Isopia
When it seemed as though nothing further was going to happen with Kisamoa on the beach after the Goddess's departure, Isopia took the opportunity to investigate the new underwater cavern for herself. Hubris sat upon her back, clutching the red folds of her cloak as she navigated the rock-like stairs that led down beneath the sea level. It was quite surreal to know that outside thousands of tons of water roared and pulsed, and yet the earth was strong enough to sustain this opening. It didn't seem as though her Father had any part of this, but nevertheless she felt some sort of pride at the strength of the rock walls around them. The further she descended, the more the walls seemed to drip with condensation. Soon the ground levelled out, and she was able to walk forwards once again. Though this particular part of the cavern was dark, a rainbow halo of light glistened ahead of her - presumably where the Goddess had created the glass viewing portion of the tunnel. As she neared it, her maroon and cream coloured body became splotched with colour, as light from above, diffused by the ocean, glistened through the rainbow glass. And there, just behind the walls, was the coral reef that Kisamoa had shown them only a few days prior. >>Pretty<< Hubris thought, gliding from his perch on her back to investigate the walls for himself. He pressed his bronze face up against them, blowing air onto the glass, and then drawing a happy face in the fog he had created. With a toothy grin, he looked up at Isopia who looked down at him with a neutral expression. But the little dragon was not deterred, and continued to investigate the glass walls. @Albrecht |
[OPEN] Clouds in my coffee
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11-14-2016, 01:06 PM
11-18-2016, 10:42 AM
The entrance of the tunnel is disconcertingly dark, its opaque stone walls rising out of the beach and closing overhead to block out all light and sound. The stallions head lowers and his ears tilt backwards unconsciously, his wariness shaping his body. The temperature drops sharply once he passes beyond the threshold and before the last touches of sunlight peter out he catches a glint of moisture along the passage walls. The whole place smells of salt and empty space. The stallion blinks, flares his nostrils, rotates an ear, but his age-weakened senses are near useless in the dark of the tunnel. "Strom." He breathes, and the python periscopes his little head out of the safety of his cotton scarf, flicking his tongue and breathing deeply to pull as much information from the tunnel as he can, telegraphing this mixture of scent and thermal imaging into the mind of his bonded as guidance. They continue forward in this manner for a few more minutes, then bank slightly around a curve in the stone walls. Light finally penetrates the dark of the tunnel up ahead, multicolored and shimmering slightly. The stallion breathes a small sigh of relief, the weight of the darkness lifting from his back and shoulders. He moves a little quicker now, his hoofbeats ringing out in a clipped, repeating rhythm - the running walk. He doesn't slow to a regular walk until his muzzle breaches the line of light filtering down through the sea, its touch on his coat almost a tangible comfort after the smothering darkness behind. Here in the soft, rainbow light of the Moons glass he can see again, both the bizarre formations of coral and vegetation outside the walls and the massive collection of feathers and fur, hoof and horn standing within. His mind scuffles briefly over which to examine first, but since the latter is more capable of moving away from his scrutiny, he opts to come quietly to her space first, greeting simply, "Hello." "Alby talks" 'Strom talks' OOC // @Isopia albrecht & strom
11-19-2016, 09:43 AM
He smiles, never having been overly impressed with the empty, idle niceities of social demand himself, and even less so since entering Helovia. He's found that most of the natives are impeccably and uninterestingly well mannered, at least until you insult their sensibilities, relatives, or physical attributes, something that he does on a more regular basis than bowel movements. Far from being repulsed by the mares unusual tack in conversation starting, he finds her blunt morbidity engaging, a twitch of amusement softening the angle of his ears. "Drowning." He answers mildly, turning his head to gesture toward the well lit oceanscape outside. "If we were far enough down for the pressure alone to be lethal we wouldn't have enough light to see by. I think I'd prefer to be crushed by the stone and glass instead though. No need to draw it out." Drowning is a relatively slow process as far as he understands it, the body first sealing itself off from further water inhalation and then convulsively trying to draw in air that isn't available. While he accepts death as an unavoidable, undeterrable force of nature, he shrinks from the idea of unnecessary suffering, the thirty to sixty seconds of being aware that one is drowning definitely falling into that category by his reckoning. Strom, his head and an inch or two of indescriminate neck/body still free of his cotton haven, thoroughly disapproves of such morbid thoughts. His little heart clenches at the mental images being evoked. 'Sad.' He complains, flicking his tongue and cocking his pear shaped head at the sound of the bronze dragons trill. Immediately he's acutely interested in the creature, never having seen one himself and jealously aware that the stallion had intended to hatch and bond with one of those instead of him, though he doesn't hold it against the bronze. Snakes don't have any vocalization save the iconic hiss of negative emotions, so he simply stares unblinking - for snakes don't have eyelids to raise or lower in emotional intensity either - in the dragons direction and hopes that this somehow translates to: Hello. I'm Strom. Who are you? What are you doing? Can you really breathe fire? How big will you grow? What's it like having legs? By some miracle of reptilian understanding. The stallion breathes his own wordless greeting to the bronze, briefly studying its size and color in comparison to the white faced stallions gold and red. He still finds the creatures fascinating and somewhat romanticized in his mind despite his recent personal experiences which include, but are not limited to, having thorns removed from his genitals by tiny dragon hands, but the desire to have one of his own has faded dramatically since bonding with and fully accepting the bond of his own companion. Now he looks at them with a more neutral appreciation than the previously covetous obsession, a development that immeasurably pleases the young python, almost enough to forgive his bonded for basically planning his own death until the black opens his mouth for a second time. Turning back to the mare, he suddenly asks, "Do you think Kisamoa would scavenge us? Well, maybe not you. The Earth God would probably frown on his emissaries eating his children, but me at least. With that nightmare mouth, he's no vegetarian." Pescetarian, maybe, he thinks, but definitely a carnivore. "Alby talks" 'Strom talks' OOC // @Isopia albrecht & strom
01-01-2017, 02:21 PM
01-13-2017, 02:12 PM
"Hubris?” He wonders aloud, chuckling as the dragon poses and the snake wriggles, bumping his tiny nose against the underside of the stallions neck in a silent, desperate plea of, ‘up!’ Flashes of excitement burst along their shared consciousness like light behind closed eyelids: fleeting, but ever so slightly detectable. “Should’ve named mine Id.” The stallion huffs grumpily, touching his nose to his chest and cocking his head at an odd angle to provide the snake a climbable platform. The young python takes to his living jungle gym without hesitation, using the stallions jaw, brow ridge, and eye pocket as No sooner is the snake coiled around one bony protrusion than he’s demanding again, this time for down, though not for himself to get back down, but for the stallion to carry and lower him within reach of the bronze dragon like a living litter, though just as creaking and unwieldy. The stallion shakes his head, though he lowers it somewhat, firmly telling his young companion that if the dragon wants to come see him then it can damn well do so on its own four legs. Turning his attention back to the mare, he ponders her answer. He knows very little of the Helovian gods and wonders if the Earth God is a generally nice guy – nice guys usually frown on cannibalism, after all – or if the mares knowledge and subsequent view of him are sheltered by her relation. Would the Earth God oppose his being eaten by an emissary, for example, truly? He finds the idea difficult to believe, especially if the god has first met him in this scenario. He’s well aware of his own repugnance - and unapologetic. "Maybe the beast is not only fulfilling a request of the Earth God. It’d be easy enough to tack on an agenda of his own with the legitimate quest underway. Who would think to question?” And just how much leeway would completing this task give him in the eyes of the Earth God, he wonders. "Alby talks" 'Strom talks' OOC // That means so much coming from you, thank you! <3 @Isopia albrecht & strom
01-17-2017, 05:21 PM
01-28-2017, 12:41 PM
He watches the bronze respond to his bondeds assessment of ‘infantile’ with a mild amusement, attributing the sudden exchange of sass to an underlying affection not different from his own mostly good natured harassment of the young python still haphazardly draped across his face, but as the mares comments sink in and her features remain unchanged, apprehension quickly overshadows his humor. “How old is Hubris?” He asks uneasily, trying to estimate the number of seasons since his own companion hatched and reasoning that it couldn't have been more than six or seven months ago, a short enough time to still truly call him a child, but now he wonders if the snake will always be so simplistic, permanently young instead of temporarily. “Don’t they – I don’t know – absorb something of the mind they’re bonded to?” It’s worded as a question, but he’s not sure if he’s trying to argue with the mare or convince himself by posing it. “Age and experience?” He adds less with less certainty. Nothing remains entirely unchanged over time, he thinks, but then the mare is returning to the previous subject and he’s tugged away from the train of thought. He nods in agreement with her, having seen the varied faces gathered around an orb, an egg, a promise of something special, having been one of those faces more than once. Truthfully, he’s not sure what to make of the Gods and Goddess himself. If there were ever deities present in his homeland he never knew of them and never took much stock in the probability of their existence, certainly never let a decision be swayed by religious or cultural tenets, but here the gods have voices, faces, physical bodies - though he has no doubt of their malleability – and take some part in the governing of their herds, though he hasn’t seen any of that occurring in the Basin as of yet. He idly wonders if they even have a Harspex anymore, or if the blanket spotted mare has abandoned them like the limp-horned before her. He has received a magic, and though it manifested suddenly and without ceremony soon after he took up residence in the north, he wonders if the God of the Spark or one of the other three ancients personally granted it to him, if all magic is controlled and meted out in such a way, or if it's something of a chance. His eyes drift back to the reef outside their glass confines, pondering in silence until the mares question rouses him again. "I've found that just being present is usually enough. The creatures that come baring magics and items will say they've been entrusted with the decision of whom their gifts might go to, but twice I've seen them contradict themselves. Perhaps the gods choose far ahead of time." He smiles sidelong, still looking out into the oceanscape. "Ether way, help is a strong word for any action I might take, though I can certainly be bought." He turns to meet her gaze then, emerald against amber, and though he's sure he should be struck by something more - the size of her, both physical size and intangible presence, the picture she makes with her regal posture and obviously high quality accessories, the very fact that she is, at least in part, godly - it's something as simple as the color of her eyes that he focuses on, so deeply bronze and lit as if from within. He glances between her and the dragon once, wondering if all bonded pairs have some kind of matching system, acutely aware that the dorsal stripe running down his pythons back is very nearly the same shade of auburn as his beard and relenting, at least in the quiet of his own mind, that the gods may play a larger role in Helovian life than he assumes. "Alby talks" 'Strom talks' OOC // @Isopia Sorry if this is rambly, I just kind of let myself type. xD albrecht & strom | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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