[O] Like a fungus - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: [O] Like a fungus (/showthread.php?tid=19829) |
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Like a fungus - Camon - 06-14-2015
@[Zahra] RE: Like a fungus - Zahra - 06-16-2015 Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna It was pride that turned angels into devils
The reprieve in weather – within which Zero was discovered, and the crow-mare – barely lasted the length of a single day. It was certainly not enough to thaw the frigidness from the hibernating world. It had only worsened through the hours that followed, days, perhaps weeks (she soon lost track). Daylight was weak beneath a heavy grey blanket across heaven’s doorstep and the sun seldom sank through the canopy to touch the hidden land below with its warming glory. It felt like the northern snow she had once traipsed amid was spreading, like a puddle’s girth into which rain constantly fell. Seeping slowly to drown anything not already prepared – well accustomed to the wrath of the icy season. The orphan foal huddled in grim shadow beneath the groaning forest roof, was hardly expecting this, her first Frostfall, to be quite so brutal. A magnificent web that easily rivalled the span of surrounding boughs had been strung about the makeshift shelter discovered many days ago – a glistening signal upon which gathered frost-crystals, a beacon of life and beauty, when the weight of winter disheartened young hearts it beckoned chattering smiles across thin inky lips. Zahra was cold, bitterly so, and her bony, fleshless body shook violently where it curled in a tight ball upon the furrow-nest their brother had helped dig. Camon had left early in the morning – the trips he was making seemed to grow in length all the time – and she was missing both his company and warmth terribly (even if he did not always reciprocate with the same level of childish affection). The physical battle to stay alive, she fought both bravely and ferociously, fuelled by each morsel the stallion returned with. Though she looked ever tattier by the day and her strength wavered precariously as the cruel fingers of hypothermia caressed her prickled, shivering skin, she rose to nuzzle Camon and dress him comprehensively in gratitude whenever he came back. One morning amid a string of many the same, Zarha woke to the gentle nudging of her brother – a request for attention, and she was immediately surprised to find he had not yet left to forage. She turned her black nose towards him slowly; the bag she had given him (that which had been one her mother’s most valued possessions), was slumped beside her – a puny, pitiful defence that offered a small sliver of body reprieve from the breeze. The little filly smiled for him, brightly, and her movement spurred the cosy-warm kitsune cradled across her legs, also to lift her face. He spared no time for tender greeting (the sort which once she had shared on any and every occasion with doting parents), he rarely did, and summoned her from bed to find another. “Alright,” she answered softly, though she knew in truth it was a matter of follow or freeze – Camon strained a smile and turned then to leave. Stiffly and across uncooperative legs she rose beneath the heavy collar (she refused to remove it), trailing slowly at first, but eventually finding movement more freely. Not long after, the poorly clothed child was cantering gently by his hip, a clumsy, jolting speed that switched often between the rambling gait of his father’s lineage and that loping, long gracefulness of her mother. Perhaps eventually one would become more comfortable than the other. Ilham had retreated promptly into the toasty burrow crafted with web to the centre of her sister’s stunted mane, and Bird shadowed her older sister’s path from a distance, keeping hungry eyes peeled for the slightest flicker to suggest that breakfast lurked nearby. For the moment however, her stark white incisors held firmly the old leather satchel in their gasp. The sweet tinkle of moving water drew Zahra’s interest almost as easily as it did the stallion she flanked. It was easily the most exciting feature of this endless forest that they had come across in days, and her nostrils purged breath after sharp breath as she searched ahead for the glint that might reveal its location. “Zis our new place?” she waffled eagerly, aiming an uninvited nuzzle beneath the long feathers of his wing. “Coz… I really like water…” she lied quietly through gritted teeth. It was a fear learned when she had slipped during a waterfall adventure when she had been even younger still (a memory blurred by magic, but rooted still deeper then such power could touch). Not nearly as shy as she had been around the stallion (he had offered her vegetables now on many an occasion) and driven by overbearing thirst, Bird swept by her dithering sister. The bag fell with a muffled thump as she went and as the icy shell shattered well beyond the battering the puppy’s tongue discovered water colder than ever it had tasted before. RE: Like a fungus - Camon - 06-25-2015
@[Zahra] RE: Like a fungus - Blu - 08-09-2015 unarchived per request RE: Like a fungus - Zahra - 08-10-2015 Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna It was pride that turned angels into devils Young, naïve, and apparently far lesser travelled than she had first presumed, Zahra could not help but be swept up by the wild beauty – the feral wilderness – which seemed to grow by the second around them. The sounds grew ever louder, nearer, like the rouge, ringing welcome of an early-bird meeting the dawn. The chorus in this dank region was far less cheerful, and not at all inviting – a loud and penetrating ’kee-ow’ stunned listening ears backwards, but the strangely rhythmic rattle of a frog nearby called them forward once again. So too was the stench startling and thin nostrils tasted it with a cautious wrinkle between; water, mould and the reek of those who had wandered through before, lay thickly upon the hardly moving air. Zahra pressed nearer to the stallion’s warmth. He on the other hand, struck the film of ice keeping the pool at bay. “Oh but Camon I-I… I like dry places too.” The scrawny filly blurted gullibly, entirely uninspired by the newest of his revelations despite her best efforts to remain gracious. “… And warm ones.” she mused further as an afterthought, remembering again that warm nest, snug beneath the rocky mountains great golden heart. He hurried her to drink, and the gilt-bellied child dipped her lips promptly to the biting cold water. She sucked through softly pursed lips and gulped hard the burning bubble that built in her throat. “Its horribly cold…” she murmured, more to the pale kitsune crouched to her side than any other – she could feel the fluid leak into her stomach like the prickle of gnawing bot-flies in summer. Though Camon soon stepped aside, the foal remained to fill the void which solid matter seemed never to satisfy. It was only as his nose plunged suddenly that Zahra pulled clear, and her small canine sister rumbled disconcertedly as she too withdrew swiftly. Together they watched (almost suspiciously), as he pulled free and dropped a small selection of things. “What’s that?” She queried, naturally interested in anything that snared the stallion’s. Neat toes dither forward towards the slumped leather as it took possession of the treasures, but Camon shot a glance by her which prompted a pause to her wondering. “Alright,” small tone answered quickly, and she turned to bump her white cheek against the puppy. She wasn’t that interested anyway… |