the Rift


[OPEN] Strong hands, gentle hands

Kelec Posts: 18
Aurora Basin Crafter
Stallion :: Other :: 18 hh :: 24 Buff: NOVICE
Adoptable
#1

Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men.


There were many things a centaur had to know, that other creatures might find redundant or down right odd. Much was due to their peculiar complexion, others because of a fast and quirky metabolism - and yet others due to a very vibrant heritage of civilization that was a mix of traditions and instinct.

Most important was shelter. While normal horses, with horns or without, could survive any winter no matter how harsh without more than basic protection, a half-horse like Kelec would freeze to death in a matter of days - and then he could be both hardy and naturally resilient. There were limits to everything. Thus the first priority of the lefiri once his stay in the valley had been permitted was to find himself a place to settle, something to build upon and develop. It hadn't been very hard; there were more caves in the surrounding mountains than there were horses to settle in them.

The one he finally picked lay near the hot spring, a rectangular, deep crevice that was heated by the close proximity to the searing water. Furthest in there was a slight natural hollow on the right, and a narrow crack that lead in towards the right; a draft made him guess that there was a second cave on the other side, but with his size it was impossible to find out for sure without removing stone. It was a tempting project, but dangerous; it would require blasting, and the long-haired crafter was far from experienced in the area. Knowing the basic idea of how it could be done was a far cry from mastering the technique.

So for the time being he busied himself with fashioning a resting place from piles of loose rock that laid strewn over the floor, by stacking them up neatly into a slope that would let his torso rest against it while the lower body lay comfortably on the belly. It was bedded with grass that he patiently collected and dried from the thawing steppe, careful not to deplete the supplies of greenery from inside the Basin itself. The rocks that were left once that was done were piled into shelves, empty for now but calling out for items, decorations, storage; the centaurs mind spun with all the things he felt needed to be done, and it was hard to focus on any one task.

As the days grew steadily hotter and he was able to see what lay beneath the snow, the omnivore began to gradually build up a supply of useful greens. Seeds from spring plants were gathered and kept in small pouches he made from the skin of captured birds, roots from edible flowers were dug up and saved to be planted in a more accessible areas; he had plans for a garden, but lacked the necessary tools needed. So for now he had to settle with the gathering, the snaring of birds and small animals, the preparing of their hides... and the making of baskets.

That was perhaps the more tedious of the tasks Kelec set for himself each day. It began in the afternoon just as the worst of the heat began to dissipate as the tall creature waded out into the lake and began to collect the bulrush that grew along the shore. Once he had dug up enough, both roots and leaves, he retreated to a shaded place and settled down, sorting out the material in different piles by use; the roots for food as they contained plenty of starch, long stalks for baskets and the cat-tail cobs for tinder; perfect to use when in need of a quick fire. After that was done the centaur began to weave the stalks together, a slow, steady process that left him plenty of time to think, to watch and listen to the wind and the water and the many unicorns that roved around. So far he had been left to his own devices and preferred it that way; the more time he had to settle down and make himself comfortable, the better it was.

This day too he sat in the shade beneath a tree, legs curled beneath him and with fingers dancing over, under and between the green leaves, weaved, braided and shaped them to his will. As he worked the man sang quietly to himself, a song from a land far away that drifted with the wind, tempting any who wished to come closer and listen.


Taras Kalapun @ Flikr

Frost Fyre Posts: 198
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Altair :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast prissy
#2

She wanders again, a forever roaming ghost, sent to haunt the icy world. She walks with smooth and gentle movements, her muscles rippling under her dark skin. Her pillars are fluent in movement, stretching to full length and thumping to the ground. Her cracked daggers dig into the frosted earth, the frost sticking between the cracks. She felt the moist air in her lungs as she inhales, exhaling slowly. Her white hot breath rolls into the cold air of the Basin, curling over itself before evaporating into the air.

She stumbles and gasps at the face she sees. The face. She saw no equine expressions, it was a face. The face of an ape, or, the cousin of one. And there was no horn from the brow, no crown to mark its place in the land. She walks forward, her mouth hanging open. This was no equine of pure blood. His body ended at the breast, curving into a paler skin tone, the hair fading away. His equine body has ended now, fading into the body of an odd muscled, odd bodied creature. Traveling up his unique body, she lets her emerald eyes take in the odd yet alluring features of his face. His pale blue orbs, floating rafts of blue lost in foamy sea white. She walks closer, staring down at the moving limbs on the creatures limbs, moving and working. Limbs upon limbs they were... how odd.

Mesmerized, she steps forward to the kneeling stud, her brows relaxed. She has closed her gaping maw now, but curiosity was still a burning fire in her emerald eyes. Regaining the strength to speak, the fae opens her maw, her vocals creating a harmonious voice that bounded from her lips. "What are you composed of?" She asks, head tilting to the side. Her words are gentle, directed towards the male creature. He was an oddity, a marvelous miracle of nature. He was wrapped in skin, leather cut into a shape to fit over his odd body. She walked so she stood before the stallion man, looking down. "May I lay?" She looks up at the ape faced stallion. He had such an odd stature, a strange mix of breed, an odd child of nature. She stares into his almond shaped orbs, her emerald eyes still sparking curiosity as she gazed.

"Speech."

FROST FYRE
Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change.

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Dawn is coming
open your eyes


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