the Rift


Same Old War (Ki'irha)

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#1



There was a certain allure to winter, in that the thick drifts of snow caught any passing sounds, silenced the howl of wind and offered a change of scenery, though no variety of colour, for the world had been reduced to greyscale. Even after so many years of living in the Basin, Roland harboured little love for the snow, and even less for the cold. He had grown used to it, his coat coming in thick and long in the winter, a distressing slight upon his usually well groomed appearance, but despite the added insulation he felt no urge to embrace the season.

So he tucked himself away beneath the ground, beyond twisting and turning hallways, pillars and pedestals of stone, and there he passed the days. A new confidence had been stirring within him ever since he had acquired magic, a dangerous notion of invincibility now that he had power, privilege, and it gave him courage. He had yet to put his abilities to a vigorous test, but once the snows no longer barred him into the valley he would learn of their limits. It was a pleasant thought with which to pass the time, a promise of excitement, a change of pace, new frontiers and grand ventures, but the anticipation also made him restless. The caves he took shelter in could only keep him content for so long before he began to think of them like the Sanctuary, barred in above and below, trapped and near sightless, with nothing but the tireless mantra of dripping water echoing in his ears, a maddening accompaniment to his ruminations. Roland half expected to see the haunting black cat materialize from the rock to taunt him with more riddles and mind tricks.

After days spent staring at the same dark walls and unforgiving ground, he braved the chill, the biting breeze and slippery ice. Though he longed to bask in the heat of the hot springs, and perhaps never leave until the frost around it thawed, he knew the water would freeze upon his skin the moment he left its warmth, and he would be worse off than he had begun. He did not stand idle beneath the boughs of leafless trees, however, hoping to soak up any weak rays of sun that managed to escape the mass of cloud. Instead he paced the open flats of the valley, determined to find some enjoyable aspect in the bleak of winter, and wishing to be spirited away to a southern oasis all in the same thought.

There was only one solution to abating the cold, beyond bathing himself in hot steam, and that was to get his blood pumping, to create his own source of heat and shake off some of the ice that had frozen in his joints. He walked at a brisk pace, his breath fanning out before him like great billows of smoke, until he had finally found a place that was not piled too high with snow. It reached up to his fetlocks still, and he could feel the coolness seeping into his skin, but it was manageable. The stallion repressed a shiver as he looked out at the dark expanse of the unfrozen lake, still and silent. The air felt like ice in his throat, dry and cold against his tongue, and he wished for a moment that he was back in the damp, dark, questionable comfort of the caverns.

Clouds overhead threatened yet another snowfall, but he reckoned it wouldn't be upon them until nightfall, and the sun had only just begun its descent into afternoon. How easy it was to lose track of time when, literally, living under a rock.

His voice interrupted the eerie silence, echoing across the rocks, resounding through the copse of trees in a wordless challenge. It was almost too loud even to his own ears, glancing off the drifts of snow. Roland doubted he would receive an answer, when the weather was so foul and all seemed to have fallen deathly still; but he needed to persist, to find something to occupy his time lest he stagnate and turn to ice himself. If that required facing a fear, taking up the sword, then he would deal with it.

Roland filled his lungs with the frosted air while he awaited an answer, pacing through the snow and leaving a winding pattern of footprints through the thick powder underfoot. He sank up to his knees and withdrew, continuing back the way he had come as if to carve out a makeshift sparring ring in the snow. While he worked, he listened to the soft hiss of snow falling from the nearby trees, the pulse of a bird's wings as it passed by overhead, the crunch of ice under hoof, and continued his circle.

---

@[Ki'irha]

[WC: 800/800
Frostfall Seasonal Spar.
Setting: A patch of shallow snow- fetlock height- between the lake and a small copse of trees. The sky is cloudy and there is very little wind.

Ki'irha can have the first attack if she wishes!]


Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.

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Messages In This Thread
Same Old War (Ki'irha) - by Roland - 06-22-2015, 05:53 PM
RE: Same Old War (Ki'irha) - by Ki'irha - 06-23-2015, 04:47 PM
RE: Same Old War (Ki'irha) - by Roland - 06-29-2015, 06:56 PM
RE: Same Old War (Ki'irha) - by Ki'irha - 07-03-2015, 02:20 PM
RE: Same Old War (Ki'irha) - by Blu - 07-27-2015, 09:19 PM
RE: Same Old War (Ki'irha) - by Blu - 08-05-2015, 11:29 PM
RE: Same Old War (Ki'irha) - by Blu - 08-29-2015, 01:21 PM

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