the Rift


[PRIVATE] let's start living dangerously

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#1

Erebos was a wandering blade, a forged tempest, a writhing, wrathful plume of foreshadowed decadence and Machiavellian strife – grown from the scalding walls of vengeance and depravity, from death and rain, from Cheshire grins and charismatic wiles. The passing season morphed him into less boy and more man. The lanky, limber columns suddenly seemed fitting, the piercing slate of his eyes suddenly seemed enigmatic (tortured? By the weight of how things were and how they were destined to be?), and the juncture of his movements suddenly seemed poised, lacking evident stumbles, or faltering steps. Drenched in the fine sinew of undulating muscles and coiled, pernicious, promising ventures, he chiseled his way through the foundations of the earth with a glimmering smile and an effervescent ploy. He laid snares behind his footpaths and beyond shadows, he fixated ruses to his brow, he gazed at power and wanted it for himself. But for all his journeys, for all his hardships, for all his wishes and yearnings and cravings, he felt he had little to show for it.
 
The infidel had his companion, had his dreams, had his ambitions. He had scars to prove fruitless tactics or scathing wishes. He had the mettle, the grit, the determination to continue laboring on and on, presiding upon a precipice of the highest order so that one day he could annihilate the beast who’d dared to take his friend.
 
But where was everything else? Where were the pieces of his past he loved and labored upon? Where was Rikyn? Gone again to crypts and catacombs, to other lands to become stronger, to bite into what he hungered for? Where was Aithniel, daughter of a God (and was he even allowed to wonder about her; or was that stepping over some mortal, unworthy boundary?)? Where was Adelric, once his best friend, and gone on a whisper of wind? Why did he seem to lose everything he thought precious, wonderful, and divine? Why, whenever he glanced towards something else that had caught his eye, his scent, his aspirations, did it seem as though another moment, another beast, another priceless piece disappeared?
 
Was it because he always hankered? Was it punishment for his greed, for his coveting, mercenary measures? Was it because the world knew him for what he truly was?
 
After all, a son of the Reaper would always know the touch and taste of corruption. He could try, pretend, masquerade, and flaunt those charitable grins and winsome smiles, but the depths of his soul had cracked; hate had been such an insatiable poison.
 
The demon didn’t see wrath, damnation, or contempt here though, along the wide, opening crevasse. He saw an earth opened, a Hell, a netherworld channel gaping and inviting its citizens to dwell within the reaches of its immoral sanctity. He saw opportunity, he saw chances, he saw failure (everywhere he looked there was a place where he’d faltered, where he’d erred), and the brooding, scathing ripples of his heart had had enough of the follies sketched in youth. It was time to seize, to shackle, to tear apart the seams of what had made him weak and pathetic. It was time to snatch and grind, to forget and forgive, and to repent for a life anew. Erebos would be remembered, he was sure, he was certain, not for the endless errors or the ridiculous debacles, but for glory, for defiance, for perseverance in slaying the cretins haunting his soul.
 
The prince, accompanied by his savage fox, narrowed his eyes and stepped upon the path of brimstone.

or
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want

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@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#2
The Heart Caves.

He had not been often, mostly because they were super boring holes in the ground, no matter what his mother claimed had happened there before he was born. The boy-man was the sort of impudent being who cared very little for the past, anyway, unless it could serve him, such as making him appear superior to another, or to earn the adoration of a pretty girl. As far as he could tell, anyway, the rest of Helovia had forgotten what had happened here, too, because nearly every time he had come, there had been no one else here to give reverence to the unity that had been born here.

The thought makes him smile, in a cruel way, as it had made his mother smile when she told of it, mocking the very being that had spared her whatever fate had come to those who had not been returned to their proper forms in time. As a child, Rikyn had understood that she was simply calloused, but as an adult, he had forgotten the truthful voice of an innocent heart. Now, he too mocked the unity that had saved so many from darkness, a darkness which had forever changed the land to the far southwest (a darkness so powerful that it was foolish to mock it, but he did it regardless). He mocked all these things because his heart had been burned, and was calloused now, too.

Perhaps that is why his eyes are drawn to the wall of fire, and the dark figure that is highlighted by the illumination of the cascading magma.

"Erebos!" he blurts without thinking, not hesitating to use his companion’s true name as he probably should, knowing that his heart brother is keen on keeping false identities, as he is. His hooves follow the forward nature of his outburst, clinking with a golden ring on the hard stone of the strange cavern of fire, lips curved in a smile of delight as he leaps and messily canters to his best friend, his fellow Prince and adventuring companion, as it always is, and always will be when he meets with the Reaper’s son…

The heart does not forget the place it met another, and Rikyn’s heart doesn’t feel guilt for disappearing for periods of time on people he loves, so long as he’s done nothing to betray that love in the time being; that Erebos might be miffed at him for running off again isn’t something that even registers to the elated unicorn foolishly clattering across the cavern. He throws on the brakes in proximity to the dark unicorn and his mischievous little fox, sliding in a childish and almost comical manor to a debris clattering stop as close to Erebos as he can manage, without slamming into him (or so Rikyn hopes, anyway).

"What are the odds of meeting up with you in a hole, huh?" he breathlessly expels, his heart thud thudding against his ribs in excitement, his hooves playing beneath him with the abandon he doesn’t allow the rest of himself as he attempts to gather control of his excitement, grin so wide it makes his face hurt (even wider when he actually remembers the kitsune’s name when he tries to), "how have you and Orsino been?"

[ OOC: super-spastic-unicorn-assault-ftw ]


@Erebos

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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#3

For all his iniquitous curiosity, the boy merely stared down into the depths for some time, slowly wandering his way into the brink of caverns and underworld precisions. The kitsune shuffled along as if he’d been born from the wretched passages (when in fact he’d hatched within the shade of the Deep Forest; perhaps his other monstrous versions all came from the same place and were sent anywhere and everywhere), grumbling all the while as his golden eyes took in the dark, Stygian crag. Erebos unwound, bit-by-bit, notion-by-notion, until he was a roaming piece of distinct, undeniable intrigue, but with no where to truly go. To the fiery pits, where his bloodline hailed from, where Ignatius stirred brilliant cinders amidst his blood, veins, and soul? Down into the catacombs and crypts, where Hell stoked and death rattled? The potential was lingering, pressing on his chest as he extended a warm breath into the lava plumes and the haunting magma, but his interest only truly stirred as a raucous sound bounded and ricocheted off the cavern walls.

Erebos! - he’s recognize that tone, that yell, from miles away. The beast’s face twisted into one of such enthusiasm, delight, and exuberance, forgetting the traces of why they’d been apart, separated, burned and embittered (if he was supposed to be mad at Rikyn, if Rikyn was supposed to be angry at him, or if they were both simply hurt by Aithniel’s confession of Gods and daughters, left alone to be mere mortals without her). They barely avoid colliding, and the dark scion couldn’t have cared had they broken bones smashing and crashing into one another, throwing his weight towards the other prince’s in a show of good fortune, friendship, and wild, savage things that never truly went away. “Rikyn!” His voice broke into a thousand wishes, hopes, and dreams (little musketeer cutlasses slashing through the wind), and melancholy vibes were tossed aside, out in the open, along the veneer, without a trace of rancor. “What have you been up to?” He asked, he questioned, as the other did the same to him, and sadly he didn’t have much to tell except of failure and triumph, except of clambering onto a soldier rank merely so one day he’d have enough strength to brutalize and annihilate his enemies. Perhaps Rikyn had been off saving king and country, collecting vast empires, shoving opponents off of cliffs; and the Reaper’s son wouldn’t be able to hold a candle tot hat. Still, he provided an answer without pretense or masks, they’d always been children of the same cloth, full of fire, damnation, but truthful, barbaric, to one another. “I’ve recently taken the rank of Soldier in the Basin.” His smile remained, sculpted and infinite, building and brimming with the exuberance, the enthrallment, of their meeting, uttering oaths and assurances. “One day I’ll be strong enough to avenge Arwen.” He nodded, as if conversations of vengeance were common-place for their rogue, blackguard natures. But it showed his purpose, his renewal, his determination to sink into the labyrinths of ferocity and violence, how he remembered those he cherished. Orsino, for his small, minute part, gave a grunt of agreement in the hallowed, hollowed room. Maybe, one day, their dreams and aspirations could combine into one archaic, mutinous display of sweet, brilliant rebellion, and everyone would remember who they were and what they stood for.

Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want

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@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#4
What if this whole crusade's a charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid

The blue black stallion in the Heart turns about to meet him, and instead of condemnation, a worry which had neglected to itch at the back of Rikyn’s mind, Erebos’ face displays the same unfettered joy at meeting with a true friend.  Their near collision is like a tribute to the ties which have bonded them since that long ago afternoon, the children of Lord and Lady, having found the droll processions of political and societal nuances less worthy than sharing with one another their names, their smallest dreams.

The two Princes, their hearts full of darkness, illuminated (and in Rikyn’s case, anyway, often consumed) by bold fire.

Their clattering hooves still, the sound of their voices rushing up to crush the echo of their clamorous meeting.  Tales of Erebos’ life, this time, do not contain murders or successions, but instead the taking of rank – the same rank Rikyn had taken when he’d returned there in the past Frostfall – and the promise of vengeance.  He mimics the nod of his friend, remembering both of Arah’s daughters well, taking a small moment, as he does when ever reminded of Arwen (he does not think of her on his own except most sparingly, having be saved from the sight of her fallen figure, and the haunting return of it that surely ghosted through Erebos’ dreams).  He thinks softly of her twin, Asche, and her broken heart.

It is a short mourning.

Everyone has a broken heart, it seems; foolish to dwell on such a common affliction for long, to feel deeply for another when his own pains had never been pitied.

"I wish you luck," he says solemnly, "perhaps we should have the delight of meeting the fiend together!"

That he already did meet said fiend, and even took the time to chit chat with him (until they were interrupted by an idiot woman) is a sorry fact for Rikyn’s poor ability to listen to what he’s told, and to pay much attention to things outside of his current train of thought.

"I haven’t been up to much, myself," he says, answering now Erebos’ question as to the lost Prince’s own whereabouts, "I’ve mostly been wandering around.  I did sneak into the Edge though!"

His eyes light up with the remembrance of this particular escapade, his body angling to display the perfectly straight, white line of a scar left behind by Elsa’s shurikens.  His smile, devious and full of the cheek both he and his friend were famed for in their youth, displays how very little he cares that he was caught (in comparison to how much he had cared at the time he had been).

"There is a lady there with magic, star shaped daggers who doesn’t like strangers," laughs the black brown stag, not a single thought given to the fact that he might have died, "it was all good fun regardless."
For the blood on which we dine
Justified in the name of the Holy and the Divine.

@Erebos

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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#5

Perhaps we should have the delight of meeting the fiend together! - the words echoed in a massive throng, building through his ears in eerie, consuming sentiments. How grand it would be – to unite once more with his brethren, with his friends, and annihilate an enemy. A longing stirred in him again, quick and quiet, then ferocious, unwinding along his throat and down through his chest, sliding against his enamel and mind, until it seemed to wrap along his skull and settle there, a snake, an asp. He wished, he prayed, he always hoped things could’ve been the way they’d used to be, and no matter how fervent, bold, and ardent that desire, it could never truly transpire. They couldn’t return back to foals running rampant over fields and follies. They couldn’t return back to days spent beneath the bloom of a Basin spring and share silly secrets. They couldn’t be at the beck and call of savage, earthling vows and oaths, following the bitter wind and the wild, untamed brutality of their ambitions and aspirations. Too much had cracked and washed away, eroded from their swashbuckling cutlasses and their piratical interludes – Erebos was immersed in his quest for vengeance, Aithniel had been taken under her father’s wing, and Rikyn appeared to simply wander, sketching out mischief and being devout to nothing. Which was the better path? Should he have followed in the bay’s footsteps, thrown everything out into the rancorous edges and escaped into naught – no expectations, no sentiments, no nuances but fulfilling a moment’s whim? No, Orsino assured him – because then he wouldn’t be Erebos, the youth built on determination and fortitude, the little beast who remembered where he’d failed and promised not to falter, fall, and stumble so hard. Yet, he couldn’t still help but feel a pang of envy slither down his throat as Rikyn recited his tales (as he imagined what it’d be like to crouch and slink into the Edge’s fine mists; he’d been there once with his father and Enna, but on a mission, not with deceptive strings and duplicitous intentions). “I’m jealous of your exploits,” he proffered, because his friend always deserved the innermost truth, even when so many others had no idea, had no notion, of what contorted and conspired through his wicked webbing. Somehow, someway, perhaps his intentions had always been inadequate compared to Rikyn’s, too specific, not big enough to take on the whole world. He’d wanted power. He’d wanted magic. He’d wanted strength. Now, all he wanted was vengeance, and it was a long, cumbersome road with no end in sight – just enemies’ names lined up in a row.

The boy glanced at the other’s scars and wondered how many littered his frame now. He was far from pristine.

“All I’ve done is spar,” he sighed, then smirked, twisting himself around and around so that his boyhood companion could survey his marks and blemishes too – comparing those pinnacles of strength through bloodstains and disfigurements. The prince failed to mention how Ashamin had brutalized him within the dark, stormy labyrinth, how bear-like jaws had enclosed over his shoulder, neck, how he’d bled and bled and bled, fought and fought and fought, held onto convictions when there was nothing else to cling to (except Enna, and even then, she’d been so mad at him). Thereafter, he ceased his movements, donning the same satisfactory grin he wore through rage, through fire, through irritation, tilting his skull in obvious curiosity. “What are you doing here?”


Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want

image || table


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#6
What if this whole crusade's a charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid


I’m jealous of your exploits,” says Erebos.

The Lost Prince feels his smile falter ever so slightly, a part of his chest clenching, deep inside. Had life truly become so droll for his brother in the absence of his childhood companions? Had he never learned to adventure, alone?

Rikyn supposed not, now that he really thought about it; the blue black boy had not followed his mother when she’d vanished from Helovia, as Rikyn had. The True Prince had never left the serene safety of home, the promise of Lordship and power had ever been at his hoof tip. For that, Rikyn was jealous of his friend, to have never lost the command found in a name, a lineage – but that envy seemed much smaller an emerald darkness when compared to the pure black absence of the delight to be discovered in discovery.

"We can go break in somewhere together whenever you want," he remarks with a smile, bright, making a small promise, to whatever within himself that tracked that sort of thing, that he would come see Erebos more, that he would lure him into the world, that they would, for a small while, delight in the laughter of being small and completely free.

Though he had never told the Erebos as much, though he may never, he loves his friend, his dark companion, the Knight of the Lake who rides alongside his burnished banners, their hearts in time. In his head, that is the scene that plays when he thinks of Erebos: not as individuals, as when they are alone, blood feeding the silent earth, or hearts breaking, and breaking, the makeshift repairs hard, and metallic.

As is common with men, the outward scars are easier to discuss than the inner: Rikyn’s golden eyes admire each warrior’s badge on the roan’s figure with the praise a brother gives another. Even if they were marks of failure, they meant they had survived it, that they were stronger than the day before. The boy meets the tilted gaze of his friend with a bright smile, happy to lead the conversation away from how many times the golden marked stag had failed to ask Erebos along for the fun. His shoulder shrugs. He rarely knows why he goes anywhere anymore, other than that he goes.

"I got to wondering about it, I guess," he answers, not wanting to delve into the fact that, sometimes, he walks just for the company of his hoof beats, the changing scenery; still foolishly clinging to the notion that his life is all roses and perfection, not lonely nights and long, parallel days, "but I think now that it was to see you."

Wandering alone does that to a mind – it teaches it to see, taste, hear things that are invisible, that are nothings unless you really stare at them. Rikyn has spent a lot of time alone. An ear tilts back, awkwardly, not liking the soft, warm emotions that his last statement has coated his tongue in, his golden eyes flashing strangely as they seal away the parts of himself that aren’t tarnished.

"Wanna spar?" he asks, manly, overly gruff, as if the notion of violence would cover the utter feminine fluff that had just fallen out of his mouth.
For the blood on which we dine
Justified in the name of the Holy and the Divine.


Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#7

The boy laughed, it was so easy to do with Rikyn, with his companion from birth, because their promises had always been the same. They cherished adventure, thought to see the world, intending to drive it apart together, and the conviction still remained, even as they aged, even as they disappeared into shadows and sunlight. Whether Rikyn’s ambitions had ever altered, changed, morphed, were unknown and foreign to Erebos – but he valued the other lad all the same. “I’ve never been to the Falls,” he winked, on a dare, on a whim of audacity, on those strands of boldness alive and well in his chest, in his legs, in his skin since his birth. The relish of freedom simmered and danced on his tongue, within his movements, so that he nearly bounced off the walls in pure, silly, stupid ebullience, all boy again instead of peering along the threshold of manhood. He forgot consequences and dove into impulses, mercurial regards and whimsical diatribes, as if the world was still just theirs for the taking, lying in wait until they snagged and clenched and grasped. Maybe they could even pull Aithniel into their midst again, forget she’d been chosen as a God’s daughter, pretend they were mere morsels and specks against the sky, chasing after prospects and chances instead of ghosts, phantoms, and revenge.

There was no resentment in his blood, in his thoughts, over his disappeared friend constantly vanishing and returning. Instead, its like a long-withered dream come true, partially, because Rikyn existed on this plain, here, tangible, real, and he didn’t have to wallow on the Sun God’s words to let things go, to cease harking back to the past because there was nothing he could hold onto there…the realms eroded, shifted, transformed, but not Rikyn and Erebos. Together, they were invincible. Together, they were a force. Together, they were tried and true beacons of an impending, greater age – when the world would harken at their beck and call, when empires would be crushed under the weight of their power, sway, and might.

“I’ve been here a couple times,” he voiced aloud to a question not asked. Once had been to cook for a turkey, and even now the notion seemed absurd (especially while the feathers remained hidden, tucked away for some random occasion), and another had been amidst the murders, speculating, pondering, wondering how and why someone could obliterate others. Sadly, he understood it now. “But maybe I was drawn here to see you too.” He winked again, segmenting his entire gaze on the Engineer’s child. He’s not embarrassed, or ashamed, to adore, revere, or esteem the other – he’s simply glad to be with him again, no matter the rhyme or reason.

Another offer was extended thereafter, as if they needed a notion for violence, for vehemence, for pilfering away from emotions and silliness – he gladly accepted the moment, the ringing of movement, of motion, of testing the limits of their power and seeing just how far the other had come. “Sure!” Then he narrowed his eyes, suddenly eager, ready, for the fray, breathing in plumes of disaster and ruin, pondering the lengths in which the other would go (he was one the scion, the prince, would never think to ruin).


Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want

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@Rikyn


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