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02-26-2013, 06:43 AM
We're skipping Faelene until Sica says otherwise, I think? ^^ Correct me if I'm wrong Sica. XD
No answer but the cold silence of dawn.
The single red eye, easy to believe evil where it nestled in the black feathers, found his gaze, and, unflinching, Mauja held it. What was this nightmare beast come to haunt them? What did it want? He received no answer, only that piercing stare. A few seconds ticked by in silent impasse, but then, the first ray of sunlight arced across the horizon. The golden disc shimmered bright and yellow where it hinted, making its presence known, and cast the first shadow since the stars had gone out; bleak and pale it traced the outlines of the raven-horse's feathers, the mean curve of his beak. Daybreak had come and gone more times than he could count, and again, he had not expected this one to be any different.
But the moment the first rays touched the tall horse, something happened — feathers crumbled to dust, bones shifted and snapped, and perhaps it was testament to his recovery that Mauja was not standing with his lower jaw by his feet. Instead, he stared with hardened blue eyes, watching as, bit by bit, the sun burned the feathers away, revealing a dark, scarred hide. Thick legs came clean, the wings falling into oblivion, and with morbid fascination, the Ice King's eyes were drawn to the horse's muzzle. Nostrils drank in the morning air, the curved horn upon his forehead remaining, and Mauja's gaze swept across him once more. Even without seeing the jagged diamond mark did he know, that he knew this stallion — not well, but he had met him before, a long time ago. In silence his mind spun back, to a time before the time-rift.. before the fall of the Edge and them being cast out into the snow, like dogs.
The Edge, in the heat of summer; a stallion who had fled a miserable past, tired, haunted. Korra had been there at first, but then she had escaped to someplace less crowded, or less warm. Ravens... The sky had been blocked out by ravens, not even the harsh sun penetrating their feathers. Cawing, shrieking, their myriad bodies had blocked out the day, casting them into night, and then they had gone. But what was his name? Mauja's ears flicked back momentarily, to the sound of Snö's voice and steps, but otherwise he did not acknowledge his daughter, too captured by the kneeling half-stranger. Turned his head slightly to push his muzzle against Snö's neck, and then, he drifted forward with quiet elegance, yet something of wariness and wonder slowing him.
"Dearest King, I must say that this," and he indicated the mess of black feathers upon which he had bowed, "this is no momentary phase." It had been a year since the ravens had come to see them, and, nearly a year since Daltoff had disappeared. Had he exiled himself, too ashamed of the wings sprouting from his back at night, or had he sought answers to his curse? "I'm sorry," he said quietly, sincere, as he gently reached out to attempt and stroke the General's neck — lightly, afraid that his nerves would still be exhausted by the pain and react badly to what was intended as a soothing touch. The stallion's name was at the tip of his tongue, but he knew that the more he thought of it, the more it would elude him. Better to just speak, and let it fall when it will. "Do you know if something can be done..." He pulled back, to bring his blue eye level with the only one the raven-cursed possessed, something almost intimate in his voice as he breathed the last word, tone rising up to mark it a question. ".. Daltoff?"
He remembered.. or at least, he was fairly sure that he did.
No answer but the cold silence of dawn.
The single red eye, easy to believe evil where it nestled in the black feathers, found his gaze, and, unflinching, Mauja held it. What was this nightmare beast come to haunt them? What did it want? He received no answer, only that piercing stare. A few seconds ticked by in silent impasse, but then, the first ray of sunlight arced across the horizon. The golden disc shimmered bright and yellow where it hinted, making its presence known, and cast the first shadow since the stars had gone out; bleak and pale it traced the outlines of the raven-horse's feathers, the mean curve of his beak. Daybreak had come and gone more times than he could count, and again, he had not expected this one to be any different.
But the moment the first rays touched the tall horse, something happened — feathers crumbled to dust, bones shifted and snapped, and perhaps it was testament to his recovery that Mauja was not standing with his lower jaw by his feet. Instead, he stared with hardened blue eyes, watching as, bit by bit, the sun burned the feathers away, revealing a dark, scarred hide. Thick legs came clean, the wings falling into oblivion, and with morbid fascination, the Ice King's eyes were drawn to the horse's muzzle. Nostrils drank in the morning air, the curved horn upon his forehead remaining, and Mauja's gaze swept across him once more. Even without seeing the jagged diamond mark did he know, that he knew this stallion — not well, but he had met him before, a long time ago. In silence his mind spun back, to a time before the time-rift.. before the fall of the Edge and them being cast out into the snow, like dogs.
The Edge, in the heat of summer; a stallion who had fled a miserable past, tired, haunted. Korra had been there at first, but then she had escaped to someplace less crowded, or less warm. Ravens... The sky had been blocked out by ravens, not even the harsh sun penetrating their feathers. Cawing, shrieking, their myriad bodies had blocked out the day, casting them into night, and then they had gone. But what was his name? Mauja's ears flicked back momentarily, to the sound of Snö's voice and steps, but otherwise he did not acknowledge his daughter, too captured by the kneeling half-stranger. Turned his head slightly to push his muzzle against Snö's neck, and then, he drifted forward with quiet elegance, yet something of wariness and wonder slowing him.
"Dearest King, I must say that this," and he indicated the mess of black feathers upon which he had bowed, "this is no momentary phase." It had been a year since the ravens had come to see them, and, nearly a year since Daltoff had disappeared. Had he exiled himself, too ashamed of the wings sprouting from his back at night, or had he sought answers to his curse? "I'm sorry," he said quietly, sincere, as he gently reached out to attempt and stroke the General's neck — lightly, afraid that his nerves would still be exhausted by the pain and react badly to what was intended as a soothing touch. The stallion's name was at the tip of his tongue, but he knew that the more he thought of it, the more it would elude him. Better to just speak, and let it fall when it will. "Do you know if something can be done..." He pulled back, to bring his blue eye level with the only one the raven-cursed possessed, something almost intimate in his voice as he breathed the last word, tone rising up to mark it a question. ".. Daltoff?"
He remembered.. or at least, he was fairly sure that he did.
