Living Life on the Edge

Living Life on the Edge

Kiuaji Posts: 40

Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 9 HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE

Matanye :: African Crowned Eagle :: None Nova

#17

03-08-2016, 06:30 PM (This post was last modified: 03-08-2016, 06:42 PM by Kiuaji.)

Burnished scales glimmered in what little light filtered through the tree's, the gnarled and ancient branches twisting and blotting out the suns attempts to shine in his sister's land. This part of the Edge seemed to see little traffic, and for the poisoner it had been a perfect choice. A perfect spot to practice his magic, it rested within his breast like a hissing beast filled with heat. Coiled and poised to strike, waiting for an opportunity to strike, rows of teeth bared and crown of ivory horns gleaming in the stunted light.

Matanye had been wary, and intrigued. She hadn't fled into the night when he had first transformed, the audible pop of bones and exhaled breath of subdued pain had whispered into the sky as she had trilled her concern. She had peered into his mind many a time, sometimes for answers, trying to prod deeply into the serpents past without invoking a snarky remark. Other times to remind him that she was here too, they had places to be or people to see to. He had felt her there then, as gold scales slithered through the ghostly grasses.

Subtle barbs, like talons pricking against supple skin — wanting to know, was he still the same? was he still the soul she had chosen? Not that she would ever outrightly emote it, she was not a creature of free emotions. They were already as guarded as his, but she was protective of her unicorn counter-part and would see him protected from the darkest parts of himself, and those that would find him an enemy.

He had grumbled a yes to her, and her concern had left her as quickly as it came. Kiuaji was still in control, that flickering, glorious golden fire streaked with shadows still burned fiercely within this scaled form he had been blessed (or cursed) with. She watched him then, from her lofty throne of dark wood and starved greenery, as he fought with the pain that wracked his form when he grasped at the beast. Willing, subduing and ignoring the pain that swept through his body each time. Her confidence a source of comfort, somewhere deep inside his hollow bones and her chiding shrill a reminder that he could do better, when a rasp came to life a little too loudly.

Kiuaji had been practicing, when Tembovu's call reached him on the cutting wind. His many crowned head tilting so he could peer at his bonded, serpentine purples meeting her warm autumn hued ones. Time to go see what dear Bov requires he murmured mentally, lurching forward on his scaled belly in a leisured motion. She took flight beside him, close to the ivory coloured spires that erupted from his scaled head. The transformation back is no less painful than transforming into the leviathan creature, flesh and sinew knit back in a mixture of shadow and earth, scales falling away into dust as soft cream brown fur returns to a form that is delicate and effeminate. It leaves him aching and a little sore, but he masks it under everything that is so painfully him.

The trip was long, the winds picked up and so did the cold as the tree's became sparse and dappled in favor of rock and sea grasses. The cliffs? in winter? Oh Bov, you do know how to pick your spots he mused idly, earning a click of amusement from Matanye as she swooped to find purchase on his horns. Others had already arrived, a great abundence of feathers and horns spread before him as he slunk out from the treeline, spotting the familiar face of his dearest friend and Tsavo — who now seemed to have a cub at her heels. Fitting, a lion cub for the lioness.

"Tsavo, my pungent flower, why are so you far away from our King?" He inquired in a sing song tune, smirk already on his delicate — and deadly — features. "Do step up, we Dorobian's must stick together in our new home, like a pride of lions." His purple eyes drop to the lion at her heels and his own companion ruffled her feathers, unsure of what to make of this one, though he didn't stay long enough for her to examine the lion further. The poisoner weaved through the bodies like silk, coming to stand at the front of the gathered.

"Bov." He greets, delicate head dipped for a moment as Matanye trilled a happy note to him, formalities, at least he addressed a stallion he could respect — not stallions drunk on their own power and station. "Your highness." Kiuaji added a moment later, eyeing the snow queen from under his tresses. They switch to glance over those that have gathered, each individual does not escape the serpents gaze. He will remember all their faces before he knows their names, names mean little when he already knows each blemish or tell tale marking upon the hides present. "This is a merry gathering, isn't it? You would think they had all been summoned to a funeral."

"talk talk talk"

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

Credits: Image by the-day-of-shadow @ DA

@Tembovu @Elsa @Tsavo