the Rift


[OPEN] Marshmallows, music and a fire (any)

Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#1
AFRICA
Diviner for Dragon's Throat

As the burning, scorching face of summer sank below the western cliff line, Africa held her breath, the anticipation of the moment almost too great to fathom. It was the passage of time; the inescapable journey of all living things; the loss of one era making way to a new. Already the cool breath of Orangemoon had been sweeping in refreshing bursts through the desert; whispering ocean tides and crisp, salty hints, washing away the dry miserable heat of the day- and the many like it, past. And so too did the light fade away, vibrant purple red sunset, fading into the demure blue-grey hues of twilight. It was a beautiful transition, fierce and frightening, and Africa’s lungs pushed the withheld air from their midst.

Only when the night’s smothering blanket had well and truly dimmed the light did the young Oracle turn from the sky. The fire was aglow as her tired eyes fell upon it, dancing, lively flames soothing and comforting to a soul that had worked tirelessly since being appointed their caretaker. Charcoal lips were dipped towards the sand, and they wrapped snuggly around the hardened arm of an old naked branch- the tree who once held it, dead also, though standing still steadfastly nearby. Africa lifted it carefully, aiming the tapering point towards the fire pit and thrust it artfully through the golden-orange flames; forcing further the offering of late Tallsun daisy’s into its centre. She had pottered all day, seeking only the finest flowers from the meadow beyond Helovia’s heart, and the fresh gift was devoured rapidly by the gluttonous blaze.

Silas watched in relative silence, purring occasionally as contentment seeped through their united hearts, roosting comfortably in the skeleton tree. The stars speckling his raven black feathers reflected the emerging milky-way above, glistening and shining through the looming night. He was a nocturnal creature, and would watch over the mare tirelessly throughout.
Africa would not sleep that night either, her head was spinning with the recent whirlwind of events and happenings, and while it churned she could find no rest. Instead she would tend the fire as usual with stewing love and tenderness; mumbling all the while to herself and her Bonded a ballad about a crude warrior, the finest of them all. It was welcome distraction from her thoughts.

“Oh, Kri the Resolute
You were the bravest of them all
Try and try and try they did
But none could make you fall

The Throat you served so staunchly
Your people loved you so
They think so often ‘bout you
They ask, ‘where did you go?’

The answers may never be revealed
Though your legend will not fade
I sing this song for you right now
Your story has been made

Our hearts forever ache with sadness
Our secret tears sill flow
For what it meant to lose you
Only your kin will ever know.”




Satanic Silk Posts: 153
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 5 (Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
#2
satanic silk

Silk pawed at the sand, unfamiliar with the texture. He liked how easily it moved at his command, and how it sprayed up around him. This new delight would be imprinted in his mind, tied to the experience of his new home, Dragon's Throat. The stallion snorted a chuckle, pleased. He liked the name of the place, too, for he had always been a fan of dragons. Indeed, his wings and their dragon-like texture and shape had always made him feel that he had some sort of special connection to the ancient beasts. I can't breathe fire though.... He tossed his head with annoyance at the thought. That would be some fine magic indeed.

The black beast continued through the sand, trodding carefully through a few deep patches of the granular earth. Fire was on his mind as he spotted a flickering light ahead. He paused and looked upward at the sky, ears cocked at awkward angles. What, is this a sign or something? His hooves dug harder at the sand as he propelled himself forward, extending his wings slightly to speed his arrival at the flames. He was so preoccupied with the fire that he barely noticed the other equine standing there, the bird that kept her company, or the ode that she sang.

He stopped short, feeling rude and oblivious. Normally he didn't care to interrupt others; he wasn't a very polite boy. But the fact that he didn't notice any of these things was more of an embarrassment - and embarrassment was something he liked to avoid whenever possible. He cleared his throat and stepped away from the fire, shrouding himself in darkness and illuminated only by moonlight.

Pardon my interruption - I was distracted by the fire you tend. He grunted, clearing his throat. He had caught the end of the ballad, and wondering idly whom she was mourning.

[Image: silkicon2_by_lainey_lou-d73bsek.png]
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Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#3
AFRICA
Diviner for Dragon's Throat

Silas clucked quietly enjoying the tuneless rhythm and muttering sound of shifting syllables. His dark gaze spilt devotedly across the illuminated mare as she poked and prodded at the fire she had become so fond of. Naturally he was not fond of the licking, hungry flames which illuminated their new bed- instinct caused his wariness, the threat to his delicate, glorious plumage (and hers) preventing him from nearing its radiating warmth. He was contented enough, clutched to the old creaking bough above, much more so than when they had sheltered for so long below the cold, burnt overhang of limestone cliff. Of course he would never admit that the den was not to their combined avian needs; Silas adored Africa immensely, perhaps more than his love of flying, and he adapted himself according to the needs and desires of her heart.

The gentle hum of her lingering voice was soon melted into the snapping, cracking fire. The young Oracle watched steadily as the fire gorged itself on her modest offering leaving naught but wildly dancing ashes, burped slovenly into the cool autumn desert air around her. She smiled, pleased- assuming quickly that the Sun God thought well of her efforts because they had not been flung out or any such thing. That was when another horse, a stranger to Africa, barrelled by and pressed himself brazenly close to the holy flame. She gasped, startled by the sudden and unexpected gush of wind roused his black form against her and staggered from his presence.

A warning cry erupted from the gnarled tree above, its piercing sound slicing through the otherwise silent surroundings. Silas was leaning forward irritably, his neck stretched downwards to better glare at the interloper who had destroyed the serenity of the moment- more so though, unsettled the relaxed pace of his beloved’s gentle heart. Another sharp cry echoed through the blackening atmosphere, though it was shorter; the shrill tail not so penetrating.
Africa, although surprised, was not so hasty like the assertive reaction of her Zephyr friend. Pale yellow eyes searched the stranger tenderly as he turned to notice her, expression all the while inviting and patient; and she smiled for him too as the flickering firelight brightened her pale grey complexion. The stallion, having turned from the glow remained shadowy and difficult to discern. The moonlight illuminated the slow flap of his silvery mane though, as the steady breeze stroked its lovely length.

“You are welcome here…” she said kindly, stepping so that her bending neck could retrieve the make-shift prong which had been dropped in the flurry of his arrival. “I am Africa, and this is the Diviner’s Fire which I tend. It's a place for our entire herd to pay their respects to the Lord of Dragon’s Throat as they wish.” She was not particularly sure whether the swarthy stallion was actually a ‘brother’, but given that was blessed with wings she presumed the fact boldly. “We haven’t met before, are you new?” As her words fluttered from her curled lips, Africa ventured back nearer to the fire- inviting her company with a Pegasus-like wing gesture as she went.



Satanic Silk Posts: 153
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 5 (Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
#4
satanic silk

His silvery mane dangled in the air as he tilted his head and grunted at the roc. The bird crowed at him, and he flared his nostrils, ears pinned back. If I wanted to do anyone any harm, I wouldn't be apologizing, would I? Dumb bird. Silk curled his lips back at the distressed avian in a sneer, then resumed a more demure disposition as he turned his attention back to the fellow pegasus.

It seemed that his abrupt appearance had ruffled more than one set of feathers. The mare seemed to have adjusted much more quickly, however, and now invited him closer to the fire. As much as he loved fire, however, he stayed in the darkness, content to remain in the close embrace of the shadows. Silk listened to her voice, which was soft and kind. So gentle, it almost made his skin crawl. He looked at what he now knew was the Diviner's Fire. Special fire gets a special name? How pretentious.... He stared at it a moment, half-expecting it to suddenly turn some vibrant color - green, or blue perhaps - with some magical quality that seemed implied by its name. Though beautiful, the fire did not change.

His lips parted to speak, but he was momentarily struck dumb as he saw her one wing wave him forward. One wing. He cleared his throat awkwardly. Curiosity spurred him forward, and he moved into the light cast by the fire. Without a pause he approached her and moved around her body, stopping only a couple feet away. He reached forward with his muzzle to inspect the scarred tissue where her other wing must have been, and his deep red eyes lit with intrigue.

He pulled his nose back and stared at the pink tissue for a moment. Silk's skin visibly shuddered as he imagined what a horrific event might have happened for such a tragedy. What the hell happened? Whatever she had mentioned about the fire had completely left his mind. He looked at her pale eyes and wondered who had fucked her up. Silk glanced at the roc, wondering if the bird could have done such a thing. No, they seemed pretty close, and he wasn't sure a bird could have done that much damage.

[Image: silkicon2_by_lainey_lou-d73bsek.png]
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Meraki Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#5
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I’d had the power to control fire – it would rise and fall on my command, it would twist in my heart and my mouth and engulf me. I was never fond of the fire, but I was content to wear it as I wore so many of the other elements – the ice I bequeathed my children, my poor, lost bargaining chips, the darkness I spun artlessly around me, the light that shone from the tips of the feathers – once upon a time, I was alight with life, and I’d never felt more terrible.

So, it was the fire that called me down to them – brought me down from my nighttime flight like a moth. I was careless; I was growing careless in this peaceful land, this place I knew not and understood less of the more I grew used to it. I could feel his presence – not here, but somewhere close, somewhere near – and it was enough to send a shiver of – something – throughout my body.

He was near.

“Diviner?” I caught only the tail end of the conversation, the stallion seemingly concerned with the mare’s state, the bird hiding with it – and, truth be told, so was I, concerned that is, the moment I saw the wound on her shoulder. It made my own wings fold around me in a sympathetic wince.

Still, it was the concept of divination that seized me – and made me wonder…

“Hello,” I said, because I had manners and manners demanded I at least introduce myself. “I am Meraki. Who is the Lord of Dragon’s Throat?”

I was quite new, after all.

And politeness, apparently, only went so far.

Meraki.

“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.”
— T. S. Eliot


Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#6
AFRICA
Diviner for Dragon's Throat

At first the stallion with the moon-lit mane remained in place, night black coat blending into the darkness surrounding; wearing the hour like a chameleon cloak. Should not the firelight’s playful glow have been dancing across the side of him bared, Africa wondered musingly if he might have simply been swallowed altogether and lost. She disregarded the silly thought literally, shaking it from her mind so that the thick mass of stippled, oily mane bounced and writhed through the cover of warm firelight. That was when he approached her- drawn audaciously into the light with prying, ravenous eyes and quivering lips, like no one before him had dared.

The feeling of his touch, of the unexpectedly gentle brush of his whiskers across the partially numbed socket-scar caught Africa off guard, and the Oracle dithered on the spot helplessly. None had before touched the raw-looking scar which shone vivid and pink on this occasion, and although the brash stallion did not press his nose against it, she suddenly felt quite self-conscious of the sagged, ugly naked skin there (that which she herself had long ago, inspected many times before). Her trembling nostrils fluttered uncertainly, turning towards her wingless shoulder also and he withdrew in the same staggered moment.

Africa could feel his discomfort and the harmony in her mild expression faded into the rising, shy nervousness that caused her to recoil from him- to find comfort close by her fire. “The fate of foolishness…” she answered simply- generously, the stick clamped tightly between her teeth, and her eyes closed as she let it’s tapering point drag through the yielding sand by her hooves. As if sent by the God himself to rescue her from her own bitter insecurity, a second horse appeared; her pale hue emblazoned as fire-glow gripped her.

Relieved for the sudden blessing of distraction after found the energy to flash a quiet smile towards he who had challenged her- no matter how unintentionally the gesture had been intended. Her eyes swam then greedily through the half-light towards the new stranger as she spoke Africa’s title; the solitary word swamped by harmless interrogation. Meraki did not pause for long and swiftly introduced herself to the pair- “The Sun God,” Africa answered easily, the smile returning to lift the weight of her secret clear from her mind. Pale eyes danced between the newcomer’s own and she added, “I am Africa, the Diviner of Dragon’s Throat and I tend this, our Lord’s, fire.” Narrowing eyes shifted towards the stallion then, hoping to compel forward his still unrevealed identity- it seemed unlikely that they were conversing with a spy or the like, but Africa knew stranger things had happened.



Satanic Silk Posts: 153
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 5 (Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
#7
satanic silk

Silk stepped back a pace, letting the cream colored mare have her space. His closeness had rattled her. His ears twitched back. He didn't like that he had unsettled her. She seemed rather timid, and fragile. Instead of feeling aggressive, he found himself wanting to protect her. In this case it seemed he needed to protect her from himself. He glanced at her bird. My wings are bigger than yours. He thought snidely. He looked back at the mare's wound and stepped one more pace away. The stallion noted her answer in his memory, and let the topic drop for now.

Instead he turned his attention toward the arriving female. She seemed like a fast talker, quick to introduce herself into the conversation, and to make known precisely who she was. Silk kept quiet as the two vixens exchanged pleasantries. The beige mare, also winged with beautiful amber feathers, introduced herself as Meraki. The 'Diviner' called herself Africa. He glanced at the fire again as Africa noted that the fire was a tribute to the Sun God. Sun God? What the hell is that? It seemed pretty self-explanatory, but then Silk had never seen a deity before and he wasn't sure that he really had faith that any deity existed. The sun rose and fell - that's just the way life worked. He never really pondered the cause behind it all.

It was a moment before Silk realized they were both staring at him. Clearly they expected him to share his identity too. He wasn't sure he was ready to reveal that much about himself yet, but a name couldn't hurt, could it? A stupid thing really. The name does not always describe the creature. In his case, he thought it did. He snorted at them, his nostrils flaring and quivering. Satanic Silk. He said smoothly and quietly. He did not care much what any being called him. There are more important things to identity than a name. As long as he knew it, that was all that mattered.

He turned toward the fire and moved closer, revealing the color over his face and in his eyes. Carefully, he released a giant wing, and dipped it toward the flickering flames. Gently, he dipped the claw on the edge of his wing in the fire. The flames licked at the bone, and Silk twitched a little as some of the flame touched the leather. The singe tickled his nose and he snorted again. As he pulled his wing back he examined the bone, it seemed to have a small amber glow to it that quickly faded. A soft, barely noticeable smile slipped across his lips. He liked fire.

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Meraki Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#8
I knew that sort of pain, of loss – though mine was not as visible, it too was the price of foolishness. I did not bear such a dramatic scar (thank the gods for that!), but I wore my captor’s brand still, and, I thought, always would, even when the horns fell away and my soul was put back together – even with his death, I would wear his mark upon my skin.

Some scars are harder to see.

“I am truly sorry,” for what, I was not sure: for her wound, for interrupting, for, well, existing. I was very sorry for the latter, indeed, but that was not the point.

The fire was utterly mesmerizing.

The mention of the Sun God made me think of Gaucho. I dismissed that line of thought with a flick of the tail and a ruffle of the wings – they came to wrap around me, naturally, as they always did.

Satanic Silk. Interesting. Africa. Very interesting. I would remember those names.

It was the divination thing that called my attention, however.

“Do you… see things? In the flame? The future?”

Part of me hoped yes. The rest of me knew how unlikely that was.

Meraki.

“I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.”
— T. S. Eliot



I, like Meraki, am endlessly sorry for the ridiculous amount of time I took to reply :o Work caught up with me. I promise I won't take as long next time, but if I do, feel free to go ahead and pretend she's just standing there looking silly :3


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