.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-05-2014, 09:11 PM
AFRICA Diviner for Dragon's Throat
Guiding the filly between the fissures through the hard-packed clay, and well from the molten pit’s hungry fingers pitching upwards every so often in the form of wicked blue-centred firelight, Africa felt the wave of reassurance sweep through the mind of her avian bonded; although the element had in many ways been forced upon their demure world, he still found little comfort in its daring, cunning warmth. “Fear not!” She thought silently, goading him, despite fire being possibly the only matter he had ever showed discomfort near. The opportunity to play and joke rarely rose between them; their bond was still as soft and new as the palest dawn, and each held a seriousness and carefulness that had not yet been breached altogether by the comforts of effortless understanding. Silas grumbled in response to the teasing, and sank beneath the silk his razor-sharp talons a little deeper. The pinch caused Africa’s mood to stiffen slightly, and her companion clucked in triumph. At last they came to rest by the sheer wall of straw-like grass; it grew tall and rigid, easily passing above the dappled mare’s withers. The loam was still parched and dusty, and her weight was not cushioned like when she paused through the sand of her home, but Africa was contented enough to simply be rid of the ominous red-glow, and infernal, revolting heat. A warm, dry breeze swirled around them, lifting the sheet of powdery dust from the rust-red crust beneath so that the gemstones glistened as the face of the crowning sun shed its ultra-violet light upon them. “Aren’t they lovely?” Africa mentioned, lowering her nose with a snort to further cleanse the treasure which had caught her eye, more so than the others strewn below the ground surrounding. “Did you know, Cypress, that these gems cannot be unearthed? Even the greediest heart could not conjure the strength to thieve such beauty from this bed of clay. There is a tale of one monster; part-horse, part-man, whose eyes were as green as the kelp lining the bottom of the sea, and skin as naked as the fish who feeds upon it. He found this land one summer and spent every hour trying in vain to excavate the gems so that he could hide them away in his mouldy, stale den, and never share them with the creatures of Helovia. So selfish and so gluttonous were his intentions that he became too distracted to notice his skin burning, peeling and withering away- and soon too, his body melted into the earth. It is told that his blood boils still to this day with rage… (she gestured back the way they had come, to where the lake still bubbled beneath a rippling blanket of hot air), and the dust stirring around us is all that remains of his body.” Africa didn’t know truly if the story was real, the winds travelled Helovia whispering a myriad of tales, all captivating and utterly believable. She smiled and shrugged though, remembering that Cypress had wanted to speak some time ago now; gingerly the Oracle reached with her nose to encourage her young friend. “Tell me everything dear, from beginning to end.” |
