[O] [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - 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] [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder (/showthread.php?tid=24555) |
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[Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Albrecht - 07-15-2016 He’s been here before, once, when he’d searched for an escape from the chill winds of Frostfall. He’d had company then, but today he wanders alone, moving in small, measured steps, carefully skirting the massive crater lit by perpetual flame to explore the dry, cracked earth on the other side. His interest is in this dusty plain, the curtain of stiff, yellow scrub grass surrounding it, so he leaves the pit and namesake caverns behind. Nose low, ears pricked, he walks the barren landscape searching for any sign of claw-footed activity, any slight musk to the gritty, dehydrated earth. He’s not sure what the ideal egg incubating conditions are, but he’s fairly certain that a constant temperature is important and that some kind of nesting or burrowing behavior is involved. This small sprawl of semi-desert landscape is close enough to the massive fire to stay comfortably warm all year round and hemmed in on the far side by a wall of plains grass even higher than his bony withers, evidence of at least a small amount of subterranean moisture, so as far as Helovian topography goes, this is the ideal. So he searches, zig-zagging across the amber crust until his nostrils, lips, and eyes begin to cake with dust and his lungs rebel against the dry air with intermittent fits of coughing. He stops then, shaking grit from his coat and envisioning a long, cleansing soak in the Basin’s various pools this evening, his usual state of filth and disarray finally reaching a tipping point. Grains of sand, dirt, and ash cling to his body where the hair is damp with sweat, making his skin twitch and his eyes sweep along the wall of dried out grass with an idea of rubbing his irritated skin along their withered stalks. What a thought. Breaking into a smooth running walk, a gait he once reserved for special occasions, but that suits the purpose of moving without jarring his tender left shoulder, he abandons his quest and angles across the open ground, tail flicking out to one side in anticipation. There’s nothing more satisfying to an old man than a good scratch and he knows exactly where to start. Approaching the first row of brittle stalks, he gravitates toward a small mound of reddish-orange earth, hoping to get a better angle on their tufted tops from the higher ground, but as he steps up onto the pile its sun baked top layer crumbles beneath his hooves, forcing him to step back down. He huffs angrily at the delay, being an instant gratification kind of guy, and glances down at the mound accusingly before surprise pulls his ears forward. Peeking up at him from a vaguely hoof shaped hole is a small hollow in the center of the mound. Reaching down to investigate, he noses a few chunks of broken sand-dirt-mixture away, revealing a nest of seven leathery, soft shelled eggs - Eggs! - approximately three inches long and oval in shape. The stallion’s eyes widen appreciatively, but as he lips gently at the strange texture of one shell his brows pinch together in disappointment. The egg collapses beneath his gentle touch, obviously empty. In a similar fashion he finds the second, third, fourth - Fuck! - fifth, and sixth eggs empty too, some with large gashes along one side, some split in multiple places where the inhabitants have broken free. He touches the last egg, half-hearted, already resigned to having been too late, when something moves against his puckered lip. He gasps in surprise, drawing back as if bitten, eyes wide and staring. The unhatched creature continues to move, bulging out the soft surface of the egg. Slowly he lowers his muzzle again, excited breaths washing moist heat over the wriggling egg. He imagines a miniature version of the dragons he met in the Thistle Meadow, a tiny golden queen to call his own, a powerful, incorruptible extension of himself. A triumphant grin spreads across the stallion’s features, but as the writhing creature inside the egg finally splits its leathery outer surface and forces its tiny nose through the opening, his emerald eyes are met by black scales, not gold. Well, any dragon is still a dragon he supposes, queen or not. The little black nose slides farther out of its shell, revealing a row of small pits along its upper jaw, a detail he hadn’t noticed on the white-faced stallion’s dragons, but that he assumes they must have had. Then the creature pushes its head all the way through the opening, revealing two black, lidless eyes and a smooth, rounded head that widens toward the rear, scales shrinking down to a uniform size and shape along the base of its neck. Albrecht blinks down at the tiny face, confused. It doesn’t resemble any dragon he’s ever seen, certainly not the two he’s seen up close, but he hasn’t had an opportunity to inspect very many of them and newborn animals rarely resemble their full grown counterparts in any significant way. So, undeterred, he presses his chin to the dirt in front of the egg, inhaling the scent of blood and mucus and nickering encouragement low in his throat to the small creature. The tiny head tilts, squaring one pupil-less, or maybe entirely made of pupil, eye on the old stallion. A humid, heavy sensation pulses behind the elder’s eyes. It’s like a fog in his head, but fog that crackles with electricity and uncertainty instead of moisture. The world suddenly seems too bright, too noisy with sounds and smells, vivid smells, smells like pictures in their complexity. He draws back from the creature a second time, startled, but is unable to turn his gaze from the tiny black eye staring up at him. It sees him, watches him with a possessive intensity, an assertiveness. His hooves shuffle uneasily, backing slowly away. Is this bonding? Trying to follow his backward movement, the tiny creature wriggles more of itself through the opening of its leathery confinement, exposing another inch of smooth, black scales, these broken by a thin dorsal stripe of copper running from the back of the oddly pear shaped head and out of sight inside the egg. Another inch follows, bringing renewed confusion to the old stallion’s whirling mind, and then another nine inches of smooth, black and copper neck - or does it even count as neck anymore? - ending in a stubby, pointed tip. “Where the fuck are your legs?!” He cries, backing quicker now. “I didn’t come all the way out here for a fancy fucking garter snake.” Grin turned to grimace, he turns away, fully intending to leave the ridiculous creature where it lays, where he lays – why does he know that? - but before he can take a step in the opposite direction a wrenching pain grips his heart, like a feral cry of distress piercing his ears, but silent, internal, and every bit as cringe inducing. His head swivels back to the hatchling, now fully free of its prison and standing straight up, half its length stretched into the air like a tiny, scaled sapling reaching for the sun, eyes pinned to the stallion’s turned back. Anguish radiates from the snakes expressionless face, directly from his mind to Albrecht's. The stallion sighs, unsure whether in frustration or relief, and paces slowly back to the young hatchling, his nose lowered and searching, sweeping beneath the snakes outstretched body as it leans toward him, the pain in his chest subsiding. He lifts his chin, holding the snake - his snake, because he knows in his shriveled, emaciated heart that it could never be anyone else's now, that he wouldn't let it be - on the smooth plane of his skull and watches it curl its elongated body around his brow to meet his gaze evenly. “Strom.” He breathes, naming him, claiming him, as if his actions haven't already. “Like the winding waters.” OOC // Happy Birthday Strom! He’s a male Suma (Super Mahogany) Ball Python which appears black with a copper dorsal stripe. Pic He's about a foot long right now and about the width of a fat finger. ^.^ RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kiada - 07-16-2016
@Albrecht @Kianzo (TWIN TAKEOVER also she's probably gonna be like "what does fuck mean?" LOL) RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kianzo - 07-16-2016 Kianzo While you burn at the stake, I dance with the flames.
He followed Kiada this time. Her legs, shorter and blacker than his own, carried her far south from their home. But was it theirs? Ever since finding their companions and her galavanting off with the cow-wench, the two had spent more time apart than together. And that simply would not do. So the princely took matters onto himself to ensure that they would at least be near each other, though his inner rage boiled along is golden coat. For once, he found himself wishing for the flaming magic along sister’s back, so that he could show her just how angry and resentful he was with flaming jaws of the ravenous wolves they had seen in the Basin. But he didn’t have her magic. He had his own, an ashen cloud that froze living things in place. Perhaps, he could unleash his magic on her, freezing her in place so that he could yell and shout and make her stay with him. But, while the dark princeling would not hesitate to do such a thing to any other being, this was sister. The other half to his soul. He could ever do that to her. So, instead, he stalked her across the earth. And she seemed to stalk anther, the stallion who had disrespected his mother (truthfully, the man had been ornery towards all at the meeting, but the colt’s mind only picked out his obstinacy towards his Rexanna). Why wasn't Kia stalking himself instead of this hairy, lonely old geezer? In the caves they went, neither the two foals, their companions, or the gaunt old stallion pausing, despite the dust and heat. His cub nearly yowled in annoyance, but a strong command of silence kept her young, bone-crushing jaw shut. Though her youthful attention quickly grew rapt on the scene before them, black nose twitching as the scent of blood and mucus wafted into her sensitive nostril. She was young and forever hungry, after all. The colt, in his ire, contemplated throwing his magic out and freezing the newborn, scaly thing so that his pup might have a slithery snack. He owed this stallion no favors, and at least his companion would have it, rather than Kia’s. But, just as he was about to send out an ashen cloud, Kiada stepped directly into the path of it. With a grunt and an angry yelp from his striped hyena cub, he cut his magic short, legs quickly stepping up alongside his twin. Though he kept an uncharacteristic distance between them, coldness seeping into his face and eyes as he didn’t even look at her. And his thoughts mimicked Kia’s—this companion was small. It did not have long teeth or claws like his cub, nor did it have a sharp beak or talons like Kia’s chick. “What good is it?” His bold voice struck into the air, cold and blue eyes glaring callously at the touching moment shared in the man’s bonding with his snake. @Albrecht omg he's a tiny ass RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Albrecht - 07-17-2016 The hatchling python is staring into his left eye, head tilted just so, happiness radiating through the stallion’s mind like a warm touch of sunlight across his back on a chill day, only better, the warmth settling into the hollows of his heart and mind instead of his hair and skin. He’s not sure if the wash of emotion is a sign of approval over the newborn’s christening, or simply a result of his acceptance and touch, but he’s fairly certain he’d like it to continue. This is Helovia however, so immediately a high pitched voice assaults his ears and he lays them flat in response, carefully turning his body around so that he can see the young filly without changing the angle of his head and neck, possibly jostling his newborn companion. Strom’s interest peaks as well, sending him wriggling across the stallion’s face to hang over the opposite side and peer out at this new smell, tongue flicking out and back in to draw as much information as possible from the plains dry air. Albrecht mentally spectates, trying to make sense of a world mapping system completely alien to his own, this one almost entirely dependent on smell and some type of temperature detection system while his is heavily dependent on vision and sound. Distracted, he ignores the filly’s rapid fire questions until a second little son of a bitch comes strutting up, disapproval and condescension fairly dripping from of his golden pores. Exasperation pins the stallion’s ears even tighter to his skull, but he takes a moment to gently nod his head up and down, encouraging the serpent lying there to migrate upward and find a better place to rest among the base of his horns before turning his full agitation on the intruders. “What good is anything still reeking of its mother’s womb?” He challenges the colt, pointedly dragging his emerald eyes across the boy’s immature body, currently made of spidery legs and baby fluff where one day there might be muscle and flowing mane if his ugly mouth will let him live that long. He turns to the filly then, remembering her questions as innocent and far less grating on his nerves, but looking between the two with full attention he can’t help but notice the black and white barring along their jaws and the tear tracks running down from their eyes, markings suspiciously similar to that of the Basin’s head Thief. Not only that, but the colt at least must be Tembovu’s, his body markings mimicking the Elephant's perfectly. “So you're what she's been up to.” He scoffs at the pair, always game to insult the Thief's professionalism, if nothing else. OOC // If his assumptions of their parentage are too god-mody just let me know and I will change! He was too busy feeling sorry for himself at the herd meeting to notice the twins wandering around. @Kiada @Kianzo RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kiada - 07-19-2016
@Albrecht @Kianzo you're fine :D Theyre a pretty recognizable pair <3 RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kianzo - 07-19-2016 Kianzo While you burn at the stake, I dance with the flames.
The old, grizzled is careful with his long and slender companion. The princeling can see it in the judicious movements of his head, taking pains not to jostle the think or thrown to from his two-horned brow. Annoyance prickles in him as the elder man ignores Kiada’s question entirely. He may be irked with his sister, but only he may ignore her presence. She deserved the attention and respect of others. Briefly, ash puffed in the air before him as he thought (again) to throw his magic in the man’s face, freezing the stallion helpless so that he might see the striped hyena cub devour the newly hatched snake. And the decrepit’s next words only furthered the colt’s desire to do exactly that. But there was something—perhaps it Kia sidling closer to him with a gentle pout on her lovely face; or perhaps it was the man’s sudden alluding to their mother. Regardless of what it was, there was something that let the darkling prince allow his ashen magic to fall harmlessly to the earth. Keusi whined angrily behind him, still hungering for the slithering body. But Kianzo ignored her. He was less able to ignore the leaning warmth of Kiada, however, as she edged closer and closer. And, once her shoulder hit his, his body molded around her; instantly, with only a touch, his ire was forgotten as two halves fit back together to make a whole. “Of course,” was his brazen answer to his the man’s comment, eyes beginning to glow with malicious laughter, “Did you want our mother to be with you? A useless, old nag?” He snorts, eyes darting to the snake with a venomous snort of amusement, “You’re well-matched to your companion: both useless.” In response to the old stallion’s scoffing at their dam (whom only he, her son, was allowed to scoff at) the colt’s own mean streak began to show. @Albrecht this is a little all over the place, but I wanted to get it up! RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Albrecht - 07-20-2016 Annoyance shifts to amusement as the older stallion stares down at his youthful company, a lazy grin spreading across his weathered face. The filly’s trailing voice, unsure which male to be more offended by, and her brother’s overly confident gibes remind him just how perceptive and still cripplingly ignorant children can be. They so easily pick up on subtle nuances that others might miss among the din of formality and expectation, but the advantage is immediately lost when they misconstrue the meaning of what they’re seeing for lack of any substantial context to go with it. He shakes his head at the pair, unable to take the colt’s sass as a genuine insult, though for the briefest of moments he thinks he can see the boy’s anger materializing into the air around him, thickening into a fog of weightless dust that slightly obscures his vision. Apprehensive, the stallion gathers his own magic in response, an invisible miasma of energy and intention swelling around him, but the ashen cloud dissipates as soon as the filly’s tawny shoulder bumps into her brother’s brindled side, and though he has more than enough temper and noxious vocabulary to escalate the exchange, he chooses to tease instead, peering down his nose at the colt as if examining some part of him that’s gone unnoticed until just now. “You do have quite the mouth on you,” He ponders, “How do you know we haven’t already been together?” He raises his brows then, sure the boy is quick enough to catch his suggestion without any further prompting. It’s then that his companion, comfortably wrapped around the base of one backswept spiral horn, decides to interject. The newborn python has been content to simply observe his bonded’s mind until now, gingerly examining the emotions and expressions within as they come and go, but the sensation pulling at his insides like a tiny vacuum of pressure isn’t mirrored anywhere he can feel, so he presses the idea against the stallion’s own thoughts with an apologetic edge of inquiry. “Hm?” The stallion answers aloud, unaccustomed to the silent speech of a companion bond. His left ear cups forward, trained toward and almost touching the young snake where he sits coiled. “Hungry?” He questions, feeling the snake’s emptiness seep into his own stomach as they share and explore cognitive awareness’s. He turns to the filly then, a millisecond of apology flashing through his eyes - he does like foals after all - as he realizes he's ignored her this entire time, likely dampening if not extinguishing her earlier concern. He looks to her tiny withers where a single row of corn silk hair sticks straight up along her crest, her lightly colored fluff of a companion clinging there haphazardly. Whatever the creature is, it can't be much older than Albrecht's snake, or otherwise is slow to develop. He can't even pick out any distinguishing features of the thing aside from what must be a tiny beak poking out of the darker fluff around it's eyes. The colt's companion at least has a definite shape with its black stripes, stiff mohawk, and pointed ears. Turning to the boy and his pup, embarrassment threatens to creep into his stance, but the expression quickly changes to one of shrewd consideration. “So which one of you is the better hunter?" A little sibling rivalry never hurt anyone who stands to benefit either way. OOC // Zero scruples. Zero. xD @Kiada @Kianzo RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kiada - 07-24-2016
@Albrecht @Kianzo RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kianzo - 07-24-2016 Kianzo While you burn at the stake, I dance with the flames.
Bright eyes narrow as the two-horned man alludes to the face that he may have already been with their mother. “She wouldn’t be with you,” his insolent words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, an accusation and a question all wrapped up in youthful pride. But then the man turns his attention to the slithery companion around his horn, and Kianzo turns his own attention towards Kiada close beside him. His small, soft foal lips reach out to gently lip her ear in a silent apology of his early annoyance with her. His lips part, to whisper quiet words to her, but he was interrupted by the stallion was speaking to them. His small head drew up proudly as his sister confirmed that he was the better hunter. It was true, he hunted often for and with his companion; her hunger for blood was insatiable and, contrary to her species, she preferred warm blood to cool carcasses. So, with his slender chest slightly puffing out, he solidly met the old stallion’s shrewd, green gaze. “I am,” his bold voice affirmed his sister’s statement. His bright gaze narrowed slightly, beginning to mirror the same shrewd look that was in the old man’s face. “Say sorry for lying about our mother,” his audacious voice continued, ever strong for being so young a colt, “And I’ll try to hunt some food for your little snake.” The word is said begrudgingly, almost as if naming the creature would inherently make it less useless in his eyes. But, still, his ears and body tilted towards his elder, eagerly awaiting the answer to his brazen words. His eyes glittered in dark anticipation of either a hunt or further discord. His cub yipped in excitement behind him. @Albrecht WOW he's a lil snot in this thread. Idk why o_o RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Albrecht - 07-31-2016 The stallion’s bearded head tilts, a quizzical arch softening his brows. The filly’s immediate admission of inferiority surprises him. Siblings aren’t usually so quick to admit that one is better than the other at anything, least of all while in the other’s presence and in front of company. She seems disappointed by the concession, but her response is adamant and the boy responds with a bold agreement. Brows furrowing again, he wonders how much of the filly’s personality is hidden behind the loudness of her brother’s. She’d been the first to approach him and her initial questions had been friendlier, more engaging. He would have tried to draw her out once, hinged the conversation on her responses to strengthen her confidence and temper her sibling's, but those fatherly days are over now. She'll just have to forge herself or else be lost in her brother's shadow. “Would you prefer one lie over the other?” He asks the colt, turning away from the filly and all the memories she threatens to uncover. He’s enjoyed riling the boy up so far and he's genuinely interested in his next seething response, but the prospect of having to labor at catching some small, helpless thing for his young companion to eat is more compelling than the possible payoff of seeing his pompous little face twist and fluster and turn galloping home to his mother, so he relents. “You’re no son of mine.” He admits, a challenge in the dismissal. He wants to declare his progeny better, of higher mettle, say that they’d had thicker skin and defter tongues than the willful brat before him, but he stops short of forming the syllables aloud. His boys are nothing now and what might be left behind is little more than dust and broken bones, tufts of fur in wolf scat and cries that echo in his ears at night. OOC // Sorry for the delay. @Kiada @Kianzo RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kiada - 08-07-2016
Welp, idk what happened to Kiada but she's being all DEMANDING LIKE. @Albrecht @Kianzo RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kianzo - 08-26-2016 Kianzo While you burn at the stake, I dance with the flames.
His black-rimmed ear flicked sideways, too late catching the angry gnashing of flaming wolves on her back and seeing her dark, lovely face duck away from him and into his chest as he proudly proclaimed his hunting prowess. His inked brow furrowed slightly, the burnt-out old man before them suddenly forgotten in his insignificant in the face of sister’s sudden jealous chagrin. “Sister,” his murmur was quiet, almost apologetic, muzzle beginning to reach out to close the distance that she had put between them— But then his ears and attention flicked back to the old stallion as she tartly answered his challenging dismissal of the colt’s proffered deal. A dark smirk covered his face in amusement at sister’s annoyed, sharp reply to the grizzled stallion. His brows raised slightly, eyes narrowing a bit as she turned on him, demanding his prey for the man. He paused for a moment, bright blue eyes searching her gaze. “As you wish, Sister,” his clear, surprising deep voice for a colt rang in level response to Kia’s demanding tone. And his ears sprang forward, eyes upturned to the top of the cave, searching for the flighted creatures she demanded he catch. Given it was daylight out, there were plenty of bats roosted in the nooks and crannies above them. His hyena pup yipped aloud the sudden dark excitement that flowed from the colt into their bond. With surprising acuity (the colt had practiced after the twins’ run-in with Thranduil), a small and howling thread of hyena-cub-shaped ash hissed from his darkened chest; their gaping jowls of embers hungrily reaching for the rats of the sky. A high-pitched squeak (perhaps too high to be heard by the man’s aged ears, the unkind thought simmered the back of his mind), then silence, then three quiet, muted plops. The hyena cub’s eerie laugh filled the dark cave, her front paws pouncing on the bat’s body that had fallen near her. Young, but powerful, jaws began to make quick work of the meal, though her greedy eyes stared at the fallen, furry, winged body that had fallen near the horned man and his newly-hatched companion. Her eyes also glanced at the bat that fell near the Kiada’s companion, but she knew (from experience) that the vulture was too quick and flighted to be able to easily steal her meal. Almost lazily, but definitely ominously, the colt languidly noted to the larger stallion, “That wasn’t an apology,” and his ashen hyenas silently snarled in the air before being blown to dust. (But the magic was still there—still in him). His eyes flicked questioningly to Kiada—was that better? was she happier? @Albrecht He used his magic to make 3 bats fall. One for each companion. :D RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Albrecht - 09-09-2016 The fillys patience seems to have run out, her earlier cheer and curiosity evaporating to leave a dry, chafing residue of annoyance and boredom behind. She bosses her brother and, to the stallions surprise, he obeys, felling three small bats from a shelf of stone nearby. The colts companion bounds forward to claim her prize with an unsettling yip-squeal of delight. The stallions head begins to dip in a surprised, spontaneous nod of recognition for the boy, his show of control and focus at such a young age impressive to someone so far his senior, but as the ashy jaws of his magic - jaws suspiciously similar to that of his young companion, though larger by comparison - linger and turn their sooty muzzles in his direction, his maneless neck stiffens and cuts off the movement, ears pinning flat to his poll. The ash hyenas dissipate, their tiny particles blowing in every direction at once, but the feeling of menace hangs thick in the air between them. The stallion curls his lips unpleasantly, exposing worn and yellowed teeth as the boy plays at carelessness, his true feelings evident in the undercurrent of his tone. "Magic is commonplace in Helovia, boy." The elder warns, "I wouldn't advise threatening those you don't know the measure of." Eyes glued to the colt and his pup, he steps forward until he's straddling the body of the third and smallest bat, then lowers his head to create a slope for his companion to wriggle down. The python, his tongue flicking excitedly at the scent of food, makes straight for the tiny corpse and latches onto it in a blur of motion. The bat is already dead, its neck broken the moment it hit the ground, but this is the pythons first feeding and so he sticks to the letter of his instincts, wrapping his noodle-like body around the prone corpse and locking it into a vice grip of pressure. "No time for hugging." The stallion rumbles beneath his breath, eyes still locked onto the colt and mentally prodding his companion to simply swallow the damn thing so they can leave, but even once the tiny snake manages to shift himself around to the front of the bat and begins to walk his needle lined jaws over its tiny skull it's clear to everyone present that python feeding is not a speedy affair. The stallion sighs, his scowl deepening. He is decidedly not above battling and subsequently trouncing a child, but doing so while trying to protect a squishy, newborn companion is low on his list of endeavors. "I'll tell you what," He bargains, "If you let me show you mine, I'll let you show me yours." A mischievous grin spreads across his weathered features and though he means for their magics to be the subject of the proposal, the pervert in him absolutely demands he acknowledge the innuendo there by winking lewdly in the fillys direction. OOC // @Kiada @Kianzo What am I even doing xD RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kiada - 09-15-2016
@Kianzo @Albrecht RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Kianzo - 10-09-2016 Kianzo While you burn at the stake, I dance with the flames.
The colt’s sharp gaze narrows on the older stallion’s peeled lips and bared yellow teeth—disgust at the man’s sheer age flashing across his black-marked face. “I would thank you—if I had asked for your advice,” despite his best efforts to remain nonchalant in his answer to the elder’s poorly veiled threat, the words came out as part-sneer. His bright eyes then watched the man’s newborn snake slip down to swallow its meal whole. And his chest itched with the urge to send his magic out as the small creature worked its jaws around the bat—how would the old nag feel when his companion was frozen mid-consumption? But the colt did not send his magic out, despite the lack of apology from dual-horned stallion. Kianzo’s gaze flicked to Kiada as she rolled her eyes at the ancient man’s bargaining. A lopsided grin stole across his dark muzzle at Kia’s exasperated words; and it grew as his other half leaned her warm, silken body into his. Both his head and attention swung back to the senior stallion as Kia ended with a question, a cruel glimmer growing in his glittering blue glare. “Yes, sister, it’s better for him to save his strength,” causticness entered his deep voice, pausing to look at Kia and invite her in this moment of ridicule, before continuing, “If the old man even has magic.” It wasn’t exactly a dare that fell from his youth-made-infallible lips. But it certainly seemed like an invitation. His cub yipped, still eyes the now-bat-fattened python with hungry interest. @Albrecht sorry for the wait <3 RE: [Hatching] Not the Angel or the Devil on Your Shoulder - Albrecht - 10-24-2016 The twins talk and the snake eats, a bulge in his otherwise lithe body appearing as the infantile bat disappears though his extended jaws. The stallions lips relax, falling down to cover his yellow stained teeth as the clamor of discomfort in their shared consciousness dims, warming to something near content. He glances up at the filly then, her measured voice suggesting that he simply tell them what he's capable of, and in a flash of juvenile mimicry, he wonders where the fun would be in that. The boy jumps yet again on this new chance to emphasize the old stallions age, as if being as old as he is is an embarrassment to the species, a very public personal handicap, which technically speaking it is, making his joints stiff and his muscles weaken, but the benefit of experience can sometimes overrule those pitfalls, as his spar with the young black and gold asshole so recently displayed. He ignores the taunt, but then the colt, who is well on his way to earning his own personal title in the blacks mind, has to push just a little farther. The black scoffs, pinches his brows and looks down at the boy with a mix of irritation and disappointment - mostly irritation. "Since you're so fixated on my age, you should know I'm no idiot child to be goaded by empty threats and baseless judgments. You might think yourself the superior twin because you can play God to some dust motes," He doesn't know the full extent of the boys ability, but the little shit has flashed his ash animals in the stallions face enough times through this whole exchange for him to make an educated guess. "But it looks like your sister got all the brains in the deal. You're as transparent as the glass walls of the Edge." Meal safely tucked a quarter of the way down his body, the tiny serpent raises his head from the ground expectantly and the stallion obliges by lowering his own, eyes pinned to the colt and his young, toothy companion for the surge of temper he's positive will come. This time the stallions mental urging of his snake to hurry the fuck up is met with compliance, and the tiny python whips himself up and over the blacks right horn in record time. The bearded head lifts, distaste clear on his face. "Too bad." He tuts to the colt, but his expression softens some in passing by the filly. He nods once in acknowledgement to her. She at least seems to have inherited some of her mothers grace and intelligence. He turns away from the twins then, willing to bet one free slap on the ass on the fillys tight hold of her brothers leash. He doubts it'll loosen enough to let him act out too harshly on her most recent admirer, but one ear stays bent in the colts direction nonetheless, this own magic held taught around him. "Alby talks" 'Strom talks' OOC // @Kiada @Kianzo So this thread has been going for three months. xD I figured it's about time to close it up, but I'm always open for more. :) |