Suspended high above the mountains and rolling white hills, she could not deny that the bite in the air was a welcome change to the dry, intense heat of the Throat. She looked down, wiggling her front hooves giddily atop the world below like a kid wiggling their toes on a sky-ride. It had been so, so long since she’d taken a soar just to clear her head. There was no other feeling so freeing, so safe. No matter where she went, she could always count on the safety of the sky, and Helovia was no exception.
Her eyes closed placidly as she took the deepest breath she possibly could, her lungs rattling with cold. She held it for a long moment before forcefully steaming it out of her nostrils and into the air before her. It hung heavy just in front of her face before wrapping around her neck, breast, legs, and then dissipating as her wings puffed her past it.
Cleansed.
Her mind, for the first time in months, was near-thoughtless. Still.
She opened her eyes once more, their pupils faintly glowing in the evening light, focused on a sloping hill that fell abruptly off into what looked like frozen waves of rock hundreds of feet below.
Gently does she lower herself, her legs lazily outstretching and then bending beneath her weight as she fluffs down into the snow. She is a vision in black, the blackest-black, a satin-bodied beacon glowing against the blue-white snow, with wind tugging at the heavy waves of her mane and tail and knotting them into the feathers of her wings.
And for a moment, she just stands, eyes cast out to the horizon where the borealis slowly begin to reveal themselves. Her wings curl around her breast, shawl-like and ever-warm, and for the first time in a long time, she is content.
Ilacta *
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north,
no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean.
|
[Open thread! Excuse the caca, I fail at random posts. She needs to meet some new faces :)]
| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
11-09-2013, 01:34 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-09-2013, 01:38 AM by Murdock.)
Battered and bruised. Both his mind and his body seemed to have succumbed to the same fate, punished by his foolishness until both were hovering on the brink of incapacitation. His weariness had led his thoughts astray, pushing his decisions past the threshold of reason into the beyond, into the depths of deliriousness. His wounds were such that his wings had become useless. Featherless. Or at least, nearly so. After his escape from the meadow and the demon who had assaulted him, he had wandered with hopelessness to wherever his feet would take him. He could not go home again. Not like this. What use was he when he could not reach the skies? What sort of inspiration was a General to his herd when he had been beaten down by one such as her?
He was not used to being grounded. In the past, his wings had been at his disposal, the sky had been at his fingertips. It had only taken a few moments, and then he was up amongst the stars. Now, he would stare for hours when the night fell, just standing in the cool grass, looking up at the ceiling of black speckled by sparkling stars. How long would it be until he could return to the heavens? There was only so long he would last without his feet leaving the earth. To break the bonds of the planet meant to break free from all worry, to push past that which troubled you and think of nothing but the air beneath your wings and the vast ocean below. At night, he remembers freedom and flies in dream. The dawn ruins it.
It was night, but even so his dark coat soaked up the warmth. Sweat soaked his chest and lower body, possibly from the heat of summer, and possibly due to infection that had begun to prey upon his open wounds. His fetlocks were bloody from stumbling across rocks and jagged ground, his legs numbed by the half-melted snow that surrounded him for as far as his blurred vision would allow him to see. The steppe had always been his favourite place in Helovia. It was so much like home. The sky overhead was vast and unbroken, and the snowy land was dotted with cliffs and high mountains. But at the same time, his heart hated it.
Everywhere he looked, part of him expected to see her again. He had travelled north not only because his mind was suffering from fatigue and he was only half-aware of what he was doing, but also because it had become a part of his nature. Whenever he was troubled, he had always come here. She had always been waiting for him, waiting to wash away the pain and insanity and make everything alright again. The hole that had been opened in his heart due to the loss of her could never be filled again, but somehow, he hoped that maybe the snow would cover it up even if just for the shortest time.
He wandered farther north, resisting the urge to call out for her above the wind. He knew the only reply he would receive was the dying voice of his echo. His bruised body shivered despite the warmth in the air, his bloodied wings trembling against his damp sides as he picked a winding path across the steppe. His head remained tilted down, green eyes focused on the ground before his feet as if it took all his focus not to trip and fall. His better judgment, if its voice had only been a little louder, would have instructed him to return to the Foothills and seek help with his wounds. But he ignored it, and followed his heart instead.
Each glance upward was rewarded with little more than a view of dark skies, jagged peaks and pale snow, until finally, his eyes lifted to rest upon something far more intriguing. His pace halted for a moment, his breath catching in his parched throat for a split second, as his weary brain registered the dark shape before him. Her body was slim, tall, dark…Just like a shadow that stood out against the moon-washed silhouettes of the mountains. His heart beat faster as he slowed, but soon it became obvious that this was not her.
The creature was of his race, with beautiful, full wings that wrapped about her sides like a blanket of dark cloud. Her feathers were smooth, uniform, and most importantly, all in their places. Her face was finely dished, tilted heavenwards toward the stars where the lights were just beginning to dance. Her coat held a dark blue sheen in the starlight, much like the body of a raven. He felt embarrassed for a moment, though surely that was the last thing he ought to have felt. His coat was sweat stained and scarred, his pale wings marred by patches of blood and missing many feathers. His markings, though, still glowed softly in pale pastels against the darkness of his hide.
He stepped forward slowly, unsteadily. His breath trembled as he exhaled, his mouth spilling steam into the fresh night air. “Good evening,” he nodded slightly as he approached, stopping a short distance away from her so that she might have some time to adjust to his ghastly visage. She was beautiful up close, much the opposite from himself in his current state. “It can be quite dangerous out here at night. What are you doing so far away from home?” He caught the scent of sand and tropical air off her coat, and assumed she was from the Throat. What business did she have up north? And so close to the Basin, at that.
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
|
|
Image Credit
![[Image: 503d3n.jpg]](http://i44.tinypic.com/503d3n.jpg)
|
The twisted maiden ventured far from the Threshold, and she did not stop. Her surroundings shifted as she moved onward, the temperatures cooled and she soon found herself surrounded by snow and icy winds. It was soothing, mild, and almost even nostalgic. It reminded her a bit of the winters of home, or what used to be home. Now was her time to find a new place to call her own. Helovia was giving her an opportunity to start anew, to begin life as Pandora. That name so fit her.
“Pandora,” She whispered to herself under her breath. The name rolled off the tongue so well, oh how she loved how it sounded. Pandora was like a butterfly, she began life as a curious caterpillar, starving for knowledge and exposure to what lay outside the walls… Now, she had come out of her chrysalis, she was a butterfly. It was time for the youth to spread her wings and soar into this new world. Behind her, of course, was trail of darkness. That could only be expected of what monsters she had release. The only question that remained though was simply, would the monsters follow? Only time would tell what path darkness would await her.
Now though, her thoughts were occupied with finding shelter. Her body was worn and ready for rest, but her mind and spirit were oh so alive. The twisted maiden’s attention jerked toward a stranger a short distance. Silently she stared in awe of the winged beings before her. So, the legends had been true. Pandora wasn’t the type to approach strangers, but this one she must speak with.
“Hello there,” Pandora called to the mare as she approached. Her voice was curious, her green gaze revealed intrigue toward this mare. Emerald eyes were locked upon the mares wings. Internally she wondered whether it would be permissible to pluck a few of those feathers, to prove that these legends existed. But then, she remembered it wouldn’t matter. Everyone to prove this to was gone. The temptation to laugh was great but she held restraint not wishing to explain herself.
Silently she gawked at each of their wings. What splendid creatures. Oh how she wished she could pluck but a single feather from their wings from for herself. Quite lovely decorations the would be for her mane or tail. She paced about the two in a circle, studying them intently with her green gaze.
“I am Pandora,” she said. “I was just admiring your wings, because you two are were believed to be mere myths in the place that I once called home.”
"Speech"*Thoughts*Action
|
|
I hope its okay if I join. If not, ignore this post and I'll delete it.
The borealis above her beamed deep green now, moving across the sky in such slow motion that they almost looked fake; projected onto the dark blue canvas by a machine. Part of her wished to make this very spot her secret, a place where she could escape the heat every now and then and just watch the sky, wrapped in her own feathers. Something about this place reminded her of her childhood home--a desert, no less--but a cold one at that, blackened out by the enormous ever-erupting volcano that sat in the eastern corner. Growing up there made her long for the cold, the dark...
Crunch...crunch...crunch...crunch...
Her head whips around feline-fast, sharp ears focused minutely on whatever was coming her way. Her gaze trails the area behind her...a thick band of evergreens, and further from them the smallest, most wind-y of paths.
Her ears flick back briefly, reflexively, revealing her irritation: she’d made a newcomer’s mistake. She was not safe, or alone.
She prepared for flight as the rustling in the trees grew louder, stretching her impossibly large wings away from her impossibly lithe body, half-rearing, leaning herself at a frighteningly diagonal angle over the cliff, hovering. Her eyes, however, remained on the trees.
”Good evening.”
And then his wings.
She remains at her angle just a moment more before relaxing. Curving the back of her left wing up and then cutting it into the air sharply, the wind turns her away from the edge. The push forces her to pivot on her hind quarters before planting her front legs down in the snow. She was facing him now; a mess of wavy-mane flicking at her neck and chest, sleek feathers wiggling in the breeze, and wind-tossed forelock dancing around her wide forehead.
Although magnificent (as most pegasi were), he was tattered and marred, like a bird who barely escaped the claws of a cat. There were numerous bare spots in his wings where dark, shiny skin beamed through, and his legs and knees were bloodied and scabbed. His face, though, was quite handsome and angular. Her eyes lingered moments too long there.
He is quiet, standing placidly next to her before speaking again. This time, she openly looks him over, taking her time at each infraction upon his body before her eyes meet his for the first time.
“I could be asking you the same thing...” she replies softly, her warm voice revealing a hint of irony. “What attacked you, a--”
Behind him, something glints golden beneath the moonlight, just enough for her to notice, and her voice stops short.
She slinks her neck to the side, eyes unblinking.
The horn was the first thing that came into her view, perhaps because she’d never seen one in person. It was long, too long, and subtly shining beneath the muted-green lights above them. She’d heard whispers of the unicorns here, that they were maniacal killers or racists or both. And oddly, she felt herself intrigued.
“Were you...” she replies dryly, curling away from the stallion to face the other stranger, her silverene eyes boring into those of the girl. The long lashes that framed them were now covered in glittering flecks of snow, giving her the appearance of some sort of backwards ice-angel. Everything was in excess with her; wings, hair, lashes. It was no wonder the girl before them stared in mild-amazement. Though Ilacta remained rather blissfully-unaware of their impressive appearances. All she saw was herself (plain and dark), and the stallion next to her (windblown, scuffed, and tattered), and the unicorn before them (fit, lean, and dangerous).
“Forgive my slight hostility, dear. As you know, we pegasus’ can never trust a unicorn...” she replies matter-of-factly, welcoming her toward them with the tips of her wing anyway.
Between her and the stallion, she was sure the horned-stranger knew not to try anything. And if she did not, she would soon learn just how quickly a pair of delicate-looking wings could throw her right off the cliff’s edge.
Ilacta *
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north,
no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean.
|
| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
With the speed of a cat, the dark mare's attention was suddenly focused on him. She reminded him so much of the one he had hoped to find on these cold, vast plains, but still, the void in his chest remained. Like the emptiness of the skies, nothing could ever fill it again. But for now, he would make do with what distractions he could find. The company of another, especially one of his own race, was a treat he was not often rewarded with. He was one of few Pegasi in the Foothills, and he had been unsuccessful in befriending any others. Perhaps this time he would be more fortunate?
He watched with a slight smile, bemused, as the mare poised herself for flight. He had almost forgotten how flighty others of his race could be. He had spent far too much time amongst those who could not slip the bonds of earth, and he missed the impulsivity that, like her, he had once possessed. Clearly, she was soon satisfied that he was not a threat. In his state, there was little damage he could do, as his wings were far too sore to move and his eyes would hardly focus for more than a few seconds.
Her inspection of his tattered frame did not go unnoticed, and he smirked dryly, resisted the urge to pose for her. However, it would do neither of them any good; any kind of movement caused more pain than he was willing to bear and in this state, he wasn’t much to look at, anyways. Her response to his initial question was dismissed, though he noted the hint of suspicion in her voice. She was right to be wary. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing so far north, as she was clearly from the Throat and they were awfully close to the Basin’s borders. The Steppe was no place for lone Pegasi.
Murdock had been attacked more than once, and usually by Unicorns. However, this last time it had been different. His assailant had been of the Equine species, though most certainly not of sound mind. Thanks to her crazed assault and the assistance of a variety of undead creatures, he had been left damaged and delirious. As such, his senses had been dulled and he had not taken notice of the mare that approached them from behind. Only after the mare before him directed her attention toward something at his back did he turn and look.
His muscles tensed the moment his gaze fell upon the horn, though the buckskin’s intentions did not appear to be malicious. Nonetheless, the way she circled them with her gaze fixed upon their wings made him anything but comfortable. His feet shifted with uncertainty across the shale, edging his body closer to the stranger perched at the cliff’s edge. He was utterly defenceless in his state, and with as few feathers as he had, escaping to the reaches of the sky was hardly an option.
He smirked slightly at the fierceness of the Throat mare; she reminded him of his mother, though it had been many months since he had seen her. Nonetheless, he knew he had found himself in good company. Whether or not this Unicorn was to be trusted or not would be known soon enough. She was not from the Basin, though. That much was evident. He knew the scent of the Basin like he knew the face of the moon, and it harboured memories both good and bad for him. He dipped his head toward her slightly, though no smile rose to his lips.
Turning back toward the Pegasus, he took in her windblown appearance with a hint of admiration. She was awfully brave to stand up to an enemy of their race. “I believe you were about to ask what attacked me?” He spared the buckskin an explanation, as she would surely be able to get the idea with one look at his scarred body. “To tell the truth, I’m not entirely sure. It was an equine, driven to madness by God knows what”. He was reluctant to mention that his attacker was a mare, mostly for his pride’s sake. He was a General of the Foothills, after all, and he was not supposed to be beaten by those as insignificant as a wandering outcast. “I’m Murdock, General of the Foothills, by the way. And you are...?” He asked, sweeping his gaze across the raven figure of the Pegasus toward the Unicorn.
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
|
|
Image Credit
|
Pandora’s ears perked as the dark mare spoke. She rolled her eyes at the pegasus’s words. She never understood the obsession others had with race. A snort and a slight shake of her head conveyed her point. “No, I don’t know actually. Your assumption of who I am is quite ridiculous in my opinion, because you base it solely on the horn upon my head.” She flung words right back, her words weren’t harsh, but had a slightly cold edge to them.
“Tell me, does my horn tell of my morality? Does it define who I am? No, your prejudice is disgusting. Did I not make it clear I meant no harm?” Her tone was growing more firm and her face hardened into a cold glare, “You make assumptions of my intentions. It is an insult to me if you match me with those racist bigots.” In fact, it would be an insult to her entire homeland. They prided themselves on acceptance and tolerance of all, with the exception of demons of course. She narrowed her eyes slightly watching the two, “Don’t put me on their level, because I don’t deserve that.” No, she deserved much worse, but they didn’t need to know that. Pandora would not let others judge her for others crimes.
Even the stallion was on edge. Both of these individuals are significantly larger than the twisted maiden, so their fear was but weakness in their eyes. She wasn’t a warrior, her thin lithe body didn’t tell of previous wars. Pandora was a creature of bright intelligence and cutting words, this she knew.
She ceased her pacing and perked her ears up when she heard the stallion speak. If he was asking for her name, she found him to be deft. She had thrown it out the moment she had approached. If he had missed it, it would be of his own fault for not listening to her words. This stallion was a general, and yet he could have his wings plucked, and she had heard of that place known as the Foothills. That mare, what was her name, Lakota had approached her offering that place as home. Each day she was more confident in her choice of a solitary life, and this stallion, Murdock was making her believe that these Foothills were weak place. The type of place she would destroy by simply walking through. Pandora was of the dusk, and demons were always close behind.
She maintained her silence, and just simply watched the two. Would they continue to be so hostile of her presence? Or could they get past their blinded prejudice?
"Speech"*Thoughts*Action
|
|
Her eyes are round with empathy as Murdock as he speaks of his attacker, her gaze drawing away from his wounds and feather-less patches. Though, the empathy was not for him. It was for herself. Once upon a time, she had been that girl, only she was not insane. Her moves were calculated, precise, predatory. She'd taken down and battered any powerful thing that stood in her way.
And for the first time ever, it bothered her.
"Did he...or she...say their name?" she asks, her demeanor slow-to-boil as she grows angry over the idea that some wingless creature managed to dilapidate an adult male pegasus. She had no place to feel vengeful for him, none at all. Her past was as tattered and horrific as his attacker's present.
But she could start fresh. This could be the first step in making it right.
And before she could ask anymore, the unicorn began to grow defensive over her words.
“Pandora, please,” she says quietly, her voice just barely raised and slightly taught around the edges. “No one here is calling you a racist, not in the slightest. We’re just...leery of your type this close to the Basin...”
She pauses, briefly casting a studying glance to the unicorn’s face. It was full of defense, holding no prior knowledge of these lands, of the cold-blooded murder that went on behind the backs of many. It had nothing to do with race, it had to do with power.
But what did she know, she’d barely been here herself - however, that hadn’t stopped her from eavesdropping on the tales exchanged around her homeland. She had never feared them, not yet, and many others did not, either. There was no sense in it when you had wings the size of two of them butt-to-butt.
That is precisely what angered them and fueled their desire to kill.
“Just off that cliff, over there,” she says, pushing her elegantly dished face out toward an area that seemed to have it’s own cluster of Northern Lights. “There are unicorns. They live to kill us - the pegasus. It’s beaten into their brains,” she pauses, looking back to Pandora. “They don’t present themselves dangerously, not in the least. They are skilled, manipulative killers. And, thus...we could not tell if you were friend or foe simply by your approach...”
She pauses, realizing that if they were to climb the hill just to their right, they would be able to see the unicorns there. The stallion was right, very right - they were too close.
Her gaze flits back to the unicorn.
“I simply moved to protect him. It would not have been wise for me to risk the assumption that you were friend, especially so close to...them.”
Her wings adjust at her side, then jut forward to curl around her breast once more. She embraced the momentary silence that hung heavy in the air between the three of them, mulling over the sudden tension, interrupting it with the steam-puff breaths that poured from her nose like boiling water.
“Oh, forgive me,” she says abruptly, looking to Murdock and then to Pandora. “I am Ilacta...I'm an informant for the Tuuli. For now, anyway. But I believe that makes us inherent friends, Murdock...”
She smiles, then pauses.
“Pandora, if you still wish to converse with us despite our sudden...misunderstandings...where is it you hail from?"
I l a c t a
*
|
| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
Murdock shook his head slowly at the winged mare’s question. The equine who had attacked him had never stated her name, though he wished she had. All he had to pin the blame of his wounds on was a dark and corrupt face, out of which the wicked, orange light of her eyes burned. The image haunted him, especially the jagged curve of her mouth, but it did not plague him the way the story of a monster might frighten a child. It bothered him because she had taken the sky from him, the very thing he needed to survive. Mere wounds were nothing new to him, and after a long life as a soldier, these were simple scratches. However, he had never been stripped of his rights to the sky before.
His mind was drawn from the dark memories made on that night, though, to the angered voice of the unicorn. He was slightly taken aback by her rage, as their assumption had merely been a safe precaution. So close to the Basin, the chances of coming across a unicorn that wasn’t racist were fairly slim. However, he knew all too well that there were those who weren’t. Apparently, this mare, who was clearly an outcast, belonged to that minority. He let the winged mare speak for him, not willing to waste his breath as the cold had constricted his lungs. He could not be blamed for being wary of Pandora, after all, in his current state, he was an easy target for anyone.
The question arose, then, of what he was doing here. He was so close to the Basin, so close to certain danger, and he had no escape route. His wings were torn beyond use and his legs too bruised to support him if he tried to run. Was he foolish? Simply desperate? Or perhaps he was chasing a distant dream, a faded memory that he was trying to cling onto with the last of his strength. To the last of his days his heart would guide him north, and no matter his state of mind or body, he would be crazy enough to follow it.
A steamy breath leaves his lips, dispersing into the cold air as he relaxes his weight on his hind legs. Conversation and company drew his mind away from the ache in his muscles and the weightlessness of his bare wings, though it was clearly not without conflict. He dips his head to Pandora as the mare at his side finishes her speech, the smallest of gestures, though it was meant as an apology. The one who had been closest to him, who had meant the most to him, had been from the Basin, and no part of her heart had been tainted by racism. There still were unicorns whose hearts had not been turned to darkness, and thankfully, Pandora was one of them.
His attention is turned to Ilacta as she introduces herself, and he nods with a smile. “That it does. What brings you so far north, then? The Throat is awfully far away.” She might ask the same of him, though the Foothills was a mere few hours away, if one was able to travel by the skies. It had been several days of travel on foot, with many pauses to rest, though it had been worth it in the end. No distance was too great to travel to visit the snowy steppe and see the vast, unbroken sky above. He only hoped he would be able to make it home.
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
|
|
Image Credit
|
Pandora wanted to roll her eye as the dark Pegasus explained the Basin. She was well aware of the existence of that group. One question filled her mind, if these two are the targets of the Basin not far off, why would they come so close? Did they not value their lives enough to steer clear? Even though she claimed they weren’t calling her a racist, she still found these two to be prejudiced. The stallion was beginning to strike Pandora as a coward, one who couldn’t even speak for himself. He had to rely on the dark mare to speak for him. Even if she wanted to, Pandora doubted her ability to attack the stallion, after all, she wasn’t a warrior. She was merely a wanderer, her muscles gained from the steep hills, and long miles had to journey through before her destinations.
Then the mare introduced herself, Illacata, Pandora committed the name to memory, after all, a name had power to it at times. Names of herds and things were still foreign to her, but she was rapidly learning. Soon she planned to know the name of each place, it wouldn’t take her long if se spent the next few weeks consistently journeying and moving about, and she could always weasel out information from these two subtly.
When Illacata asked for her origin, Pandora assumed she meant her location within Helovia, but a hint of a wicked smile passed over her lips at the thought of her burning homeland. The place that the demons had devoured and consumed, and it was all because of her devious curiosity. That information was locked within her box, no one needed to know of Pandora’s birth, or the mare that she once was.
“I am what the herds deem outcast,” Pandora said, not stepping toward the two pegasi. She could converse with them just fine from where she was. “My days are spent moving about these lands. At some point, though I may find a herd to settle in.” She had absolutely no intentions of joining that band that called themselves the Basin. There were other groups out there for her, this she knew. For now her heart was bound to wandering, after all, Pandora’s hungry curiosity had to be fed before she stepped into the land of a herd. Where she tread, destruction often followed.
"Speech"*Thoughts*Action
|
|
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
