the Rift


[OPEN] Hey Young Blood

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

The scion had no right to be disappointed, to raise hackles, to throw frustration upon the earth, but as he mired his way through the countryside, as he wove empty movements, as he disassembled rock, rubble, and ruin, the colt took a peevish turn, a haphazard look, about the world and wondered what it meant to be left behind. He reached a mutinous level of petulance, a scowl meandering and peeking along his brows, a hoof grazing pebbles and watching them scatter across ice and rime, an exasperated layer of harsh, unrelenting, rebellious breaths puttering from his nostrils well-orchestrated by those younger than himself. Though the Sun God had told him not to strive towards the past, not to wish for things he couldn’t have (because what good would it do, to dream and venture towards objects, fates, and goal never in his reach?), he reenacted the same prose, pose, and position, swallowing bitter pill after bitter pill until they burned, until they coiled, until they clawed down his throat. They kept leaving, one by one, each as silent as the last – first Rikyn, journeying to the ends of the earth with his dam (and what had he seen beyond those great, mountainous walls?), then Aithniel, discarding him for something else, and the gilded twins (taken, murdered, massacred, and he was still too young to assert his vengeance), until finally, even Adelric – whom he’d believed was of the upmost faithful, was of absolute credence, was mysteriously absent from the realm.

He was growing up without his friends, without all the wishes, without all the aspirations, goals, and ambitions they’d had. There were no musketeer antics on the threads of his last foalhood days. There were no juvenile maneuvers. There were no distorted calamities. There were no adventures past enemy borders or scaling hostile heights. In fact, there was nothing - and he hated it.

Had he done something to cause it? Had he been too acquisitive, leaving and leading them down wayward paths, ignoring what had been right before his own eyes? Was he the reason they despaired, they disbanded, they fled? He scoffed, twisted his lips, lifted his stare towards the midnight sky, and loathed, truly loathed, the essence, the notion, the sentiments, of being forsaken.

Greedy by nature, he wound his way through the narrow pits and pendulums, striking out upon frozen floors and tundra oeuvres, searching and searching for the things, for the friends, who’d somehow flickered away from him. Orsino, careful, compliant, and composed, sat on a nearby stone and watched every fluid movement of his bonded’s distaste, silent, all knowing, an omniscient shadow, a constant, alluring demon. In that regard, Erebos was never truly alone, and the kitsune had every intention, every wile, of flourishing beside his beast, of reveling in their dark dreams and their scattered scabbards, but with both too young, with both too askew, he settled for muted dedication, a narrowed gaze, a layered, lacquered potential.

But what was to be done now? The boy could stew, could fret, could muse and speculate as evening ended and morning began, and still be without a single answer, a solid reason. The darkest murmurs of his whispers, of his cravings, of his yearnings, wouldn’t be heard, even if he called for them at the top of his lungs, even if he reached for them beyond the stars. Adelric. Aithniel. Rikyn. He could repeat their names, word for word, in loud, roaring depths, in quiet, unsung croons, and the same decibels would echo, would resonate back to him – nothingness. They were gone, and no matter how he conspired, no matter how he traced, sketched, and discovered their final steps, they weren’t coming back.

The awakening, the brutality, was a harsh, unwinding reality; so he didn’t bother chasing after the wind, after the clouds, after the constellations bearing his friends’ images, memories, and distinctions. The boy simply stared at the vast, open plain, deserted, stranded, and suddenly, hopelessly lost from all he’d known, from all he’d cherished.



OOC;; Open to anyone! ^__^
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image credits
- table by Niki -


Messages In This Thread
Hey Young Blood - by Erebos - 06-14-2015, 06:46 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Cathun - 06-14-2015, 07:20 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Erebos - 06-16-2015, 05:29 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Cathun - 06-17-2015, 10:52 AM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Erebos - 06-18-2015, 08:09 AM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Cathun - 06-19-2015, 03:54 AM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Erebos - 06-21-2015, 12:02 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Cathun - 06-21-2015, 07:56 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Erebos - 06-29-2015, 04:45 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Blu - 08-10-2015, 10:43 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Cathun - 08-11-2015, 11:44 AM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Rikyn - 08-17-2015, 05:59 PM
RE: Hey Young Blood - by Erebos - 08-18-2015, 09:07 AM

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