I arrive on the break of a storm. |
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
watercolour wishes
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12-27-2013, 03:32 AM
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
12-27-2013, 05:07 AM
Firechild is not a fan of the rain, she decides as she and her brother skulk beneath the trees. It kills her flame and makes her moody, dampening the brightness in her eyes, subduing the soft spring of her spindly step. They came to the forest in search of some respite, but the drip, drip, drip follows them even here. A stray raindrop lands on the girl's rump; another strikes her brother's nose, making him reel and squeak his surprise. She laughs in the darkness but is silenced when more water cascades from the sky, kissing her ear in the manner of an unwelcome admirer whose advances are stubborn and unable to deny. She flicks the golden precipice uneasily, scowling in the darkness and trudging on, deeper into the woods and further from the sobbing sky. The pattering of rain follows her into the woods, laughing in the canopy and mocking her attempt at escape. She ignores its cries and forges on, jaw set stubbornly and head held high. Beneath her belly Natraj trots, his sister's growing bulk a makeshift umbrella; Tandavi snorts at the implication that she's fat, launching a half-hearted kick that her Kitsnue easily ducks. The squelch of wet leaves is unpleasant beneath her hooves, the bubble of moisture digging into her frog, getting under her skin; no, she does not like the rain, and she shakes her head unhappily to dislodge all the water she can from her densely braided hair. They come across the living ink in a flurry of motion cut sharply against his still. For a moment it seems they will walk right past him, missing completely his black form where it rests among the towering trees. Scent is muted by the dense, damp air, and Tandavi is not seeking the company of others; but Natraj pauses all at once, nose raised to the air and large ears pricked ahead. He scans the area through golden eyes, while ahead of him Tandavi finally notices, and stops, arcing her neck back to frown at her friend. "What?" she questions, and her voice is her mother's, impatient and dark with a harsh, mocking light. Other, Natraj answers in the recess of her mind. Friend? Black eyes follow the fox's gold gaze, seeking through shadow to find their invisible companion. The girl does not like surprises, especially on a day like this; it makes her jumpy and singes her bones, and she feels soft anger beneath her skin. "Hello?" Tavi calls, her hard voice underlain by Natraj's soothing purr. The girl steps forward, her head held high in a semblance of confidence which masks uncertain disconnect. "I know you're there!" she declares, insecurity making her talkative, the damp bringing out her innate inner flame. "Better come out, before Natraj goes to get you!" At her feet Natraj mutters a canine dissent, calling out softly to take the edge off harsh words. Not that reassurance is so important- the boy is barely big enough to conquer a mouse, let along a horse fully grown and unhurt. - bg - table - image -
o. pixel pony credit to tamme
01-01-2014, 02:47 PM
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
01-23-2014, 11:42 AM
I had always enjoyed it. The rain that is; I haven’t felt like this in a while, that cold sensation of being completely alone. Perhaps it was the rain; the thunderous rumble that echoed through the sky caused trickery in my mind. It was a good way to cleanse your body, your mind and your soul should you have one. You might be wondering, what I’m doing out in the rain, I should be in the caves hiding like a coward, right? I’ve come to see what I should be hiding from, what dangerous illness was the flame kissed knight talking about? I had nothing to fear out here, nor there. So why should I waste away in the shadows, and skip out on a nice shower? I just needed to see what fear itself looked like. I was moving quickly through the storm, tracing my long steps back from which I came. The cold, near freezing liquid washed over me like a blanket of water. Once a painted canvas of caked mud and sweat was now illuminating and glossed to perfection. Onyx fibers mingling upon the curvature of my nape as I danced through the rain; dual toned mask turned upward to the clouded sky. I close my eyes, taking in the solace of the storm, as the rain pelted my face like little icy bullets. I was cold, and my skin trembling, but It was oddly comforting. I refocus my mind however as my eyes squint open, gazing upon the horizon of the Threshold. I slowed my pace, hooves squishing into mud and pulls of rippling mirrors upon the earth’s surface. I was back, even though the journey seemed shorter this time. The thick canopy above, eased the downpour of the storm, but droplets still fell like glitter through the trees. Eagerly, twin peaks pivoting upon my leveled tiara, while I put myself in a position to listen to all around me. Every drop, liquid dripping from leaf to leaf, trickling down the bark, it was music. Natures very own lullaby. A voice not made of the earth, echoes through the tress. It was young, feminine. I continued my march through the dense forest, doing my best to pin point the sound. Could be a child in danger. - It doesn’t sound panicked. Though it didn’t sound very confident either. Lobes pressed back against my ink threads as my eyes rested upon a black being. It’s a demon. - It drips black blood. What had I just stumbled upon, was this the demon? Did you own that voice that called me here so easily? Ivory pillars ease my form from the shadows of the dripping pine. Unaware, if this thing was evil or not I decided to take my caution, and approach with a stance of my own. He is not looking at me however, and my icy gaze follows his to rest upon a golden girl, standing alert with her tiny pup at her feet. Had he tried to harm her, attack her? So I closed in, tiara lowered level with my chest; crimson pendant bouncing off my chest as I walk, circling to the side and into view of the creature. Awkward position for a demon to be in, with a puzzled look on his knees in the mud; I couldn’t chance it. Lobes of deep crimson honey lay tight against my skull still as my attention remains on him. Threads dripping with cold liquid from above, as I seize my motion and remain silent; noting the black liquid that flows from his form, pooling upon the earth below him. He was obviously fatigued, but I couldn’t understand why. Was he running? ”Who are you.” My tone laced with warning, should he try to do anything unnerving to the golden girl. I may not know the child, but I had a certain knack for children and keeping them safe. Normal Speech Mother's Voice. Response to mother. | ||||||||||||||||
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