of wounded minds and wounded souls

the Rift

of wounded minds and wounded souls

Hector Posts: 262

Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5

Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE

Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream

#11

01-15-2015, 06:42 PM

No Time for Lies and Empty Fights

Concern pressed his brow into a deep furrow and fiery eyes scanned the youngest for sign of torture, wound or blemish – Sun only knew she was behaving like a runaway hostage. Even despite the nonchalant stew of words and abundantly expressed tenderness the girl seemed balanced across a brittle ledge of composure – and this was hardly masked by the tentative inch closer.

Trembling voice spilt inquiringly forward, and Hector watched unwaveringly, shaking his lowered skull authentically. Naturally though, the rambling woman with the short temper spoke first, though the giant appeared outwardly unbothered. Veci was curling a wicked path between her legs, vaporous form licking hungrily between heavy grey feathering. I could fix her, he cackled between the steady thoughts of his bonded, spewing visions of the mothers’ rabid keepers, Shadowmen; those who had kept her bound up beneath the ground, torn away her wings and beaten her to death. So morbid and alike to the bloodshed of battle was the vision, that the stallion’s eyes clenched closed and his brawny body stiffened where it waited still by the edge of the group. That is awful, stop it. he scolded.

...But the Boggart was bored. He had no interest in the mundane traditions of their kind; tedious, long-winded conversation and disgusting compassion. Drawing on his partners keen dislike towards the draft, his invisible form slithered along the forest floor to her rear and he rose like a caped villain behind her, hungry, unforeseen, evil. He began to take form and though the apparition flickered often, wavered or faded, the portrayal was unmistakable – a cave with only blackness winding back, and back, and back.

Emerging darkness drew suddenly the Dragon Warrior’s eye, and he turned his decorated face square towards it. A gruff snort erupted from flared nostrils – he knew well the source, and he did not for one second consent to any further terrorisation of the child. Veci! he snarled angrily, glancing across the faces surrounding to find their opinion. He thrust a cutting hoof into the soil between himself and the mare (the hovering cave to her rear), warning, challenging - but that was all just part of his wicked companion’s plan to speed the proceedings up. Wings opened upwards in full, exaggerating his appearance dramatically.

For a moment he turned to the girl with an eye stern though warm, "No harm will come to you, hold yourself still."