Cera Go ahead, you're never going to take me - you can bend but you're never going to break me Home is no longer home to the fire child. He had returned as ordered by the new mistresses of the sands he had grown up on. When the meeting had concluded he had gone to search the new boundaries that had wiped away large chunks of their border. But the oasis stood proud, and beside it, the magnolia tree. A shuddering sigh of relief ripped through him, and he moved on hesitant prancers to gaze up at the intertwined branches above him, an intricate lattice of memories. Times curled up with Midas until dawn, when his father had to depart. Most of the memories were bittersweet, for they all held that echo of temporary peace. Because even his past self knew that his father would leave him come morning once more. That he would spend the day wandering about the sands, friendless and lonely, bored for the long hours he had to wait for Midas to return to him at the end of his duties. But if sleeping could be a memory, despite him not being conscious to enjoy it, then he would count those as the good memories. At least Midas was at his side for those. But as he slept beneath those boughs once more, he awoke listless and devoid of emotions he felt he'd lost the moment he'd seen the earth go red with the blood of his father's mirage. Standing, he awaited for Ilaria to drop from the lowest bough to his shoulders, bracing them for the impact of her body onto his. A few sharp steps were taken before plume bristled, tasting the wind, and he pushed down with all the might his body possessed. Unlike his father, who had strained to rise so abruptly with no running start, Cera was limber and thin in contrast to his father's stout, muscled form. This was what his body was made for. And it embraced the currents above like a willing disciple, thoughts becoming a comforting buzz, worries fading away under the touch of the sky. Instead, he drifted, crossing the border mindlessly, uncaring. Who would miss him? Midas was not there to realize he was gone from home any longer. A twinge ate at his heart and he grit his teeth against it. No. Midas had betrayed and abandoned him. He had cast away the land he had once sworn to never leave without bleeding across the sands in rebellion. All lies. He had turned tail faster than a traitor to claim the crown offered to him. Had he not told Ktulu he didn't want to leave the Throat, even for his love for her? Cera was disgusted by him, even if it hurt to feel such a negative emotion towards his father. Even if he had only been there at dawn and dusk, he was still his father. So with a shuddering breath, he tilted the curve of his wings, growing paler as the seasons faded, the caramel of his youth disappearing. It was time to visit the Hidden Falls. It wouldn't be hard to find, he had been to the Windtossed Foothills countless times since he'd first met Hototo and Ktulu. A rather far journey, but he was well-rested and anxious to fly, to really feel the sun on his skin and know he was free from the damning confines of the earth below. It takes hours, the sun sliding from place, moving higher and higher. Cera had been an early riser from seasons of awakening with Midas the moment light touched the horizon. Now, he thanked it, for he would arrive near the moment when the sun would peak in the sky. For that moment however, he was content to drift on the currents beneath his wings, dreading the meeting that was sure to come in the near future. He curled inwards, falling in a controlled spiral to the earth. Milk and honey hooves touched down on the snow, thick and muddy beneath where the wetness had erased the stability of the soil. It was barely a kiss, with how much weight he had lost in the caves, all baby fat completely gone. Even his landings had become graceful, despite how long he'd gone without flight. Taking a deep breath, insides shuddering like leaves in a gale, he began to move onward. But this was not the Foothills. He jolted at the boundaries, skin crawling at the unfamiliar scents, and bit back the habit that told him to cross it. This wasn't his second home anymore. He had to obey the laws now. Head lifted and his voice rang out, deeper with age but just as honey thick and clover sweet as it had ever been. Ilaria dropped from his shoulder, disappearing into the undergrowth under the careful eye of her prince, dashing off to find Midas should Cera's summons not be heeded or heard. The tall youth folded his wings halfway, feeling edgy and uncomfortable on the edge of a herd that held a literal asylum of crazies. The scar across his chest, the deepest scar hidden beneath his mane where chunks had been taken from his flesh, the spiderwebbed scar down his right flank, the curved one that took up the expanse of his lower left leg. Two battles he had fought, and far more scars had been left upon him. One a fight to live, the other a fight to kill. To triumph. To destroy. And he had come out on top. They itched with a ferocity he had not felt since encountering his first wraith, knowing the insane creatures lying within. Would today be a day to go to war? Or would his father reach him first? This is open to ALL so long as Midas posts first! Please don't be intimidated, post at will, but this thread is primarily for Midas and Cera <3 however I know IC, the borders wouldn't be unguarded, so feel free to pop in when you feel the time is right! @[Midas] |
[OPEN] I Don't Need To Be The Hero Tonight
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03-18-2014, 10:33 PM
There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do. In many ways my life had been full of choices; some of which were far removed from me… others, a conscious effort to do right in this twisted world. My greatest decision and perhaps the biggest effect on both soul and mental process had been my children. Our lives might have been very different if I’d given Cera over to a tender hearted mare who could guide his every step, for isn’t that what the females of our race did? Fan the flames of our youth, bring joy. Maybe the pain I'd caused and been unable to thus far fix wouldn't exist. Alas, I had lacked an unselfish spirit during that time of youthful grief. Ktulu, had I not bedded her that night we stood in warm embrace. I’d never come to know Hototo or precious Ranjiri. All those memories we shared, playing our Tallsun days away as a family by the ocean—and sleeping beneath the dawn and rising to greet a hot musk of sand. It was those quiet moments that I often returned to in dreams. Happy times that weren’t filled with darkness and despair. Bitterness and the sting of betrayal. I stared out over my new home with a forlorn expression. My true family was miles away…pain spawned, crying out for its constant loss. I'd become a loner surrounded by those that adored my strength and leadership. Now more than ever, I stood truly alone. If such didn't change, wisdom knew that it would eventually kill me; for what purpose did a warrior draw his strength if not from a family? Like a virus racing through my body, it would start slow, sap energy and the will of mind. Wings rose to halfmast, arched high and tense. I stood on a stone in the middle of a coursing waterfall, droplets of freezing moisture splashed all around my legs—but I barely noticed the cold. His cry came to my ears, familiar and shocking beautiful. I started as if waking from a dream. The voice was not a youthful child, but a growing stallion. Fina flew in the lower valleys and also heard his summons, she dipped down and slipped with increasing speed toward the hidden entrance of our valley. Hindquarters pushed my body over the edge and I had a moment of complete weightlessness as the wind took hold of feathers and filled them to carry my frame forward. Arcing gracefully I soared down and slipped toward the mountain path, moving past the water to greet my son who stood just beyond the border. He came into view and a smile grew across muzzle, Cera had grown into a handsome man. Gone was the gangly legs of his childhood and thickened chest fluffed with layers upon layers of insulated baby fat. What once was a small, wide eyed colt; now stood as an elegant individual. Fina had beat me of course, and was singing merrily in the trees by the time I’d gathered myself for a smooth landing. Gold dipped feathers fell alongside barrel, sliding gently against fur. “Welcome son, it lifts my heart to see ye.” Patched legs moved to close the distance between us. “How fairs thee?” My gaze is soft but tired, strained almost—a visible sign of stress.
03-27-2014, 01:43 AM
03-31-2014, 08:36 PM
There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do. Gazing upon him, my heart swelled with unmeasurable pride and affection. My son had grown into a fine creature—tall and athletic. His beautiful body had flowered into sheen's of muscles that replaced everything once thought babyish. A father couldn’t be more proud of his child; and to witness the development of gangly youth, there was no greater joy. No matter what sins he committed, or treason was uttered, a parent would find little fault. Where there was sin, an excuse would be made, a blind explanation for the injustice that our spawn croaked so willingly. I moved not to embrace him tenderly as I might have, out of respect and the hint of a warning that could be witnessed behind those untrained eyes. Did he think me ignorant to not read the signs he so carefully laid in place? Especially since I’d worn such a mask around those that had been spared truth. Cera found his voice, an omission that slowly lowers my smile from face and drains these tired eyes of light. He spoke out, speaking of the Throat and a God who had never been my father’s patron. His words are like a lash, ivory sunlit feathers tighten and unbid both ears slice back. Somewhere Fina stops singing and falls dead silent. Cera needed this, to bite, to understand. He desperately needed these answers, so much so I feared that the act of asking them would send his body shattering to pieces before my eyes. And what of my answer? If the words didn’t suit his needs did I stand the chance at losing yet another special individual simply out of trying to do what was right? My gaze holds him unwaveringly, staring at the ugly truth that had become his disease. Why did he always seem angry with me? And I the constant explainer… “Cera,” I tried gently, faltering and forced to pause as he pressures on. Rising in volume and getting more frantic with each passing beat. With hushed note, my voice rises as the child of light finishes speaking. “Cera.” There is a fresh edge of pain and betrayal shortening breath and deepening this voice, “Is this what ye truly believes? Does thee think so little of my affection and love to think I’d simply abandon my kin to go lie in a bed full of vipers and wolves without due cause?” tone grows hauntingly quiet in the end, yet finishes strong in its mark. He didn’t trust me. He didn’t believe me. Without waiting for an answer I pressed on,“When have I ever lied to ye?” Fina chirps sharply in the trees, feeling my hurt swell into a mixture of anger, even if it is unseen, “Listen, I beg, listen well.” Tone rises, deepening again and offering no quarter for him to interrupt, “The god of Earth came to me in palaver during the illness that plagued this land, and it is he who has tied me to the earth your feet stands on. The god of Sun has chosen newblood to lead the Throat. I wasn’t among his pick.” “Would ye have me forsake the god of my father’s when he calls a change in path?” A question that couldn’t be answered by him, “What was I supposed to say!?” teeth clinch together, swallowing the bitter bile of frustration that swells past my walls. Frustration for this situation, frustration for nobody understanding or even caring to stick around long enough to understand, frustration that honor called me away from home countless times again and again. It takes a moment for my breath to gather again, and words to flow without the sting I felt singing through my blood, “I was not born from the loins of a god. My parents were simple folk, soldiers for Dragon’s Throat.” I never talked about my parents much to Cera; mostly because there was hardly anything to tell—I only remembered a few sparse stories that Ma used to sooth me with, “Right before my first Orangemoon they went to battle and died among the blood and rot.” My voice breaks off as memory replays the night that returning warriors trumpeted victory, forgetting that a fragile soul stood on the edge of their sand—there was no joy in my heart for their war. Only the numb tears of a colt as his parents’ names were called from the list of those that had gave their life for the benefit of others. Words came slowly and quietly, smoldering, “I found them afterwards. Or…what remained—and later buried them in that field.” Eyes lowered, teeth loosened their hold, “There was nobody to guide my steps. I was an orphan, sent to drift among the reeds of life as fate willed. Only by the sweat of brow and toil did my skill as a warrior prove useful despite a disadvantage in size; there was no gods to aid in these first few years of finding, nor was there words of wisdom coming from trusted kin.” The child that had existed back in those tender months was forever gone and with it the pain of a night spent in sorrow beside the remains of my family. Children had been cruel during my apprenticeship, they teased that small size would never amount to much—and that I should be thankful for parents who received death in battle. They boasted without knowledge of the words, and rattled idle phrases without truly understanding their meaning. In the meantime I sealed ears to ignore their taunts and trained until the majority of flesh was covered in bruises and cuts. “There is nothing that can’t be done. If you’d only set mind to task.”
04-10-2014, 01:24 AM
05-04-2014, 03:23 PM
There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do. My frustration couldn’t be smothered entirely—I'd been trying feverously to make everyone happy, and ended up appeasing nobody. The volume of bitching and complaining had increased tenfold. “I didn’t want leave,” voice quaked quietly, “I’ve only tried to do what was best…” He was angry and bitter for being left alone for so many moons—but it wasn’t possible to respin the hands of fate in a manner that would correct his grief. My child had been through so much, and seen to many horrible things; his gentle soul had been twisted beyond recognition. “I couldn’t leave with Ktulu asked it of me,” would my abandonment of home changed our relationship? Nay, destiny would have finished its bid regardless of my choice, a prolonged death was still a death. “Why does ye desire to stand as a half-god? What makes ye so unsatisfied?” He’d always had a lack in confidence when the topic of appearance came up; those emotions befuddled me—I’d always been satisfied in my skin, even when it was tight and beaten to a pulp. To yearn forcibly for something more than yourself had surely led to a lack of fulfillment. “I love thee as ye stands.” Tone had softened, and though my face was still strained I raised eyes to meet bright emeralds. This was a chance to move past our precedent failures; to rise as a phoenix from the ashes. “I’m scared Cera…everyone I’ve loved—has left me to fight alone, and I know I’m not the perfect father ye deserved, nor was I around during many hours of your childhood.” | ||||||||||||||||||||
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