the Rift


[OPEN] Bad Teacher [Crafters]

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#1

Poor girl, she just wasn't meant for the rigors of leadership, at least not leadership that required her to be in charge of others. She wanted to do her thing, to be useful to the herd, to make her creations and to get to socialize like the butterfly she was. Unfortunately, life was not so simple. Someday she was going to have to face responsibility, to acknowledge that she had disciples to teach, to take them under her wing and help them flourish. Though, to be honest, there was a small part of her that did not want to. After all, Lace had taken her under his wing and what had she done? Replaced him, taken his position without remorse? And, funnily enough, she hardly felt bad about it anymore.

Still, she had to do her job to serve her herd. She would call them. “Aaron, crafters!” she called out to the air, dancing soprano filling the woods, wondering who all would come. Dragomir. She was certain of that, and having gotten to spend more time with him lately she was actually growing rather fond of him, despite their stressful first meeting. Ayelet, perhaps. She couldn't think of anyone else she was supposed to be in charge of. It was probably better. Too many might confuse her. Maybe she'd just leave the teaching to Aaron. She'd tried with Solace, but she wasn't sure she'd done so great.

Where she stood now, she was just outside the clearing that she called her own. A small copse of trees near Resplendence's garden. Between her ears, atop her forelock, sat the metal scorpion that Ulrik had made her. She was growing rather fond of the thing. In her glass basket, set before her, was a large collection of blue stones. Today she would be working on Shadow's commission. She had finally figured out what she wanted to do for the mysterious mare that had requested something for her future foal. It had taken some time, but like so many of her creations did, it came to her in her dreams. When she wasn't having nightmares, that is. So shifting back and forth for a moment, the girl waited patiently, a pleasant smile upon her features, her mind all a mess trying to figure out what she was going to say. At least the soft clicking of the small scorpion was a brief comfort, a distraction, as it was.


Reference :: Just so everyone knows what she's going to be working on! Open to anyone interested in crafting!
OOC :: Everyone who is coming feel free to take your time, no rush on this thread :D


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#2
It was funny how he seemed to be associating with those who neighbored his own little grove of rest, from the gardener to the Glazier. The gentle and sweet tones of his teacher call out to him from her nearby residence, and his chocolate ears rise eagerly to catch her words as they slip through the misty air. The first word is a name, and it is not his own, but the next fits him well enough and he is quickly on his way towards the sound of the pretty overo.

What was even stranger, while he had experienced a mild racing of the heart at the sound of the Glazier’s summons, was that when he laid eyes upon her, as always seemed to happen, that slight racing turned into full fledged pounding, the butterflies bullying their way through his belly once more. It had been going on long enough – the wall building, the herd meeting, the arrival of the singsong angel to the gardener’s club – that he was beginning to piece it together.

The sensation was similar to that which he felt when looking upon Semira or another’s bonded dragon in that they were beautiful and alluring, though he felt no reverence for the painted mare as he did the wyverns. He felt only the bright fluttering of things that were pleasant to look upon, and after pondering it for endless hours, he had finally decided what was wrong with him anytime he got near miss Kahlua.

And he didn’t like it.

It added an extra stitch of nervousness to his steps, having found that, unusually, awareness hadn’t eased his mental discomfort as it usually did when faced with the unknown. Of all the things his parents had taught him, neither had shared the secrets of the heart beyond compassion, honor, and respect, and he found himself so sorely ill equipped to deal with this sort of social pressure that, when he arrived before the Glazier, he stood still and silent for a long while, an anxious gleam burning in his eyes that he hoped came across as nerves over his first true crafting experience.

He definitely was not ready to start talking about his feelings with the source of his inward struggles, especially not when he was so covered in the smut of his sin. Kahlua was a bright white light; Dragomir knew that his own had dimmed greatly in the wake of he and Ricochet nearly murdering the black pegasus mare, and he would not let her light shallow if he could help it. If that meant he would always pine for her along the sidelines, he could accept that – so long as Kahlua remained smiling and beautiful, he could admire her from afar and it would cost neither of them a thing.

He would learn what he could from her, share in her company and delight in every moment, but there were certain things he knew he could never know. Swallowing hard after realizing he’d been standing there quite too long to be polite, he nervously clears his throat and smiles softly in the direction of one of his few friends. Could he even call her that? "Miss Kahlua," he says, bowing his head in a sweeping motion that touches his muzzle to his chest, the same gesture that he has given to Mirage anytime the pair have met, or his father; while he may find his teacher a splendid sight to be behold, she was still his superior. He couldn’t learn if she would not teach him, and for that, she had earned the steadfast respect of the young stallion.

He notices her scorpion as his eyes return to their normal level, interest peaking in him as he gestures with a dark toned nose in the direction of the sharply whirring contraption. ”When did you get that?" he asks, genuinely curious, finding the fact that it smelled like nothing else a live he had ever encountered, but was very much living; the tiny tufts of steam that jutted from the seams of the metal playfully teased his eyes as he observed its gleaming shape, the pointed barb on its highly arched tail.

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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#3

While waiting the arrival of anyone who might come, the girl listened to the soft crashing of waves upon the cliff bottoms. The sound no longer fueled her nightmares, no longer made her stop and shudder in reaction, but if she thought long and hard enough about it she could still see Antheia walking of the cliff. Love, Antheia. What an odd thing to say just before your death. But what the painted girl had first experienced as grief, and then as terrible anger at the woman for just leaving her like that, she now simply experienced as memory. It was nice, to be able to think of the cliffs as friend again, and not foe.

However, her thoughts did not have to wander very long. It took little time for Dragomir to appear, the painted stallion seeming to part the trees as he neared her. And as he stood before her, silent as a stone, Kahlua cocked her head to the side and nickered softly in greeting. It was followed shortly thereafter by a chortling sound that seemed to break him from his silent, for he bowed his head and spoke. Miss Kahlua. Always so formal. Mister Dragomir,” she countered brightly, shaking her mane to resettle it on her neck.

Though still eerily similar to Fuhrer’s voice, the girl no longer felt heart pangs every time her pupil spoke. Just one more thing the girl was learning to live with. The crash of the waves, the sounds of his voice, becoming a teacher… was the girl finally beginning to grow up? She would deny it vehemently if asked.

As his eyes settled upon the metal creature on top of her head, she bobbed her head, setting the thing to clicking and whirring some more as its legs moved to stay hooked into her forelock and flesh. “When I gave the scorpion statue to the Basin. A crafter there gifted it to me,” she still didn’t know Ulrik’s name. She’d forgotten to ask. Perhaps there was some secret motive to the thing he had given her, but if there was Kahlua was unaware of it. She just thought the thing a cute little toy to carry around.

Still, idle chatter aside, the girl really needed to get started on the gift for the foal. Closing her eyes for a few moments, getting a good picture of the thing in her head, the girl opened her eyes and began to work. Dragomir had seen her craft before, so hopefully the sudden rush of the mists around her body would not unsettle him. “A commission for Shadow of the Throat,” she murmured as the mists began to solidify, slowly, into a glass chain. Every few links, a larger circle would form, the mists swallowing up one of the blue stones and solidifying it within the glass circle.

“Lace said you should always have a clear image of what you are working on, in your head, before you start. Be able to turn it, flip it, rotate it...” She trailed off for a moment as she kept working, waiting for him to add anything. Being teacher really was awkward to the girl, but she was trying. In her head, she made a checklist of things to say to him, but none of them seemed helpful right now. “The glass stones seem to be affected by the magic as well, but nothing else that I have tried,” she added then, looking to him, her eyes seeming to say ‘do you have any questions.’ Before her, the pretty glass piece continued to grow, the scorpion atop her head clicking and whining as it watched the scene unfold.


@[Dragomir]- Just tagging so you saw I moved this to the shadowlands!!


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#4
The cliffs were no foe to Dragomir, at least not in the traditional sense, so much as they were a star lifted to high to truly touch, a soft song lilting down from the Heavens that denies your mind a reprieve and your body the soothing embrace for which it longs. He wants to belong to the sound of the ocean meeting stone and the gentle ring of wind across the glass wall, to feel as if he is welcomed within the perimeters and that, he too, is a member of the group that fearlessly follows their midnight queen.

But he knows that he is not.

He had friends, surely, proven by the sweet flickering of noise that was the Glazier’s greeting to his silent arrival, but that did not make him a part of this puzzle. Not in such a way that Kahlua had become, known by nearly all at least by name and usually responded to with happiness and enthusiasm for her arrival. He couldn’t blame them for liking her that much, really, but it did hurt a little to know that he was not as inviting a companion as his teacher surely was, no matter that he’d already known he wouldn’t win any awards for popularity before he’d ever left home.

His parents hadn’t sheltered him from the truth of his life; they had painted its reasoning light into his head, passed on to their son that in exchange for a normal, socialized upbringing, Dragomir had been gifted the most precious joy of a peaceful, happy childhood. After having met some of those within Helovia, he could thank them, in a way, but for what he had done (or not done) to others.

He returns her cheeky smile with his own soft and goofy grin, enjoying her banter in response to his all too formal introduction and taking in her explanation of the scorpion with heightened interest. Being raised by former leaders gave a boy… most unique conversational traits, and even more unique patterns of thought, especially when that boy was as thoughtful as young Dragomir can be.

The Basin? he wonders, wondering what sort of daft notion had sent sweet Kahlua so deep into the maws of wolves. He hadn’t ever met them, of course, but Mirage had warned him of their motives in the aftermath of the invasion, and he found that they were even less desirous than the winged and horned creatures he’d been forced to suffer through so far.

Unicorns thinking that they were superior to the Queen of Dragons??

If only his father could see it. The pair could have a good and hearty laugh over it, to be sure; but for now, he only looked mildly concerned at the glass maker and her new trinket. Perhaps it was only a toy given as a token of kindness, but somehow, the lad doubted that others were as generous as himself and would not choose that path. Besides, weren’t the northern beasts murderers?

No murderer anywhere gave anyone a straight answer.

His stomach begins to eat itself in the face of his hypocrisy. Shuffling his hooves, he moves to respond to her, not sure really what to say.

Maybe Mirage was wrong about the unicorns, after all.

"I haven’t heard gifts to be what they usually give," he says with an arched brow that he hopes speak the unspoken for him, "your statue must have been beautiful to impress such rancorous animals." That his own racism was showing went unnoticed by the young stallion, feeling only an intense pride in the aftermath of his words that his teacher, the stunning and charming Kahlua, was so fine a talent that she could sway the blackened heart of malevolence itself. Either way, so worded was the statement that it could be portrayed as a simple rebuttal of their violent way of existence – which, in a way, Dragomir did share this opinion, as well.

As he had thought to himself before all hell had broken loose that soggy day in the willow grove, he did not desire a trail of blood spiraling out behind the hooves of his people as they won their proper throne. They could earn it through actions of valor, and bravery, though their mere existence they could prove that they were more wise and hardy than any of the other breeds that meandered upon the earth.

The dreams of a child; he cannot know this. He is too young to understand that he wants something that exists only in fairytales. The world has no room for his honorable ideas of conquest. It only holds room for more bones and bitter tears.

His heart races ever faster as the mare turns to her project, a collection of pretty blue stones that gleamed and sparkled, explaining her work as the glass closed over the objects and encased them in a fine layer of eternal ice.

The names mean nothing to him, though they should. He hadn’t caught the black mare’s calling or from where she had come, despite having caused considerable physical damage to the poor thing. The irony of their project slips past him, flutters like a butterfly in silent mockery about his head.

"In what way does the magic affect them?" he asks as she raises her eyes to him for inquiries, looking closer at the splendid chain that she has created in such a short time. That she can visualize all this within her head at one moment is startling to him, proof that he has much practice to undergo before he can hope to create anything as Kahlua does. It should be disheartening; instead, it fills him with a vigorous desire to become as talented as he may become. "Does it differ from stone type to stone type? Diamond is harder than amethyst and amethyst is harder than basalt," his deep voice rambles, much quicker than usual, along the trails of his thoughts, "different qualities should yield different results, I would think – but magic is not always logical."

[ OOC: And the humorous beginsssss ]
@[Kahlua]

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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#5

The concern in the face of the stallion was more or less lost on the girl as she chatted back and forth with him. Not that she would have chastised him for such a look, having certainly been more than nervous upon arrival at the borders of the snowy palace to the north. Still, had he said it aloud, she probably would have rambled on about something Kaj said about being nice and not judging your enemies and things like that. She had been affected deeply by Kaj's yelling at her for being a terrible soul and, though she was still a little confused about how to make it all happen, she had ultimately decided that she was going to make things right with the Basin, and the rest of the racists, and try her best to make the whole world get along. It was a lofty goal at best, but at least she was trying.

And, while Dragomir was surely getting at something else with his words, the painted girl only hummed and smiled brightly, quite taken by the compliment he had offered her. “Oh yes, it was rather pretty blue glass, a scorpion,” and some other nonsense words about this and that and what it had looked like. And so the stallion's racist manners, that surely would have dampened the painted girls eyes, went unnoticed for another day, for the stallion to continue hiding while he tried to live like a wolf among a herd of sheep.

As the chain work grew, as link after link formed into one another and glittered under the autumn sun, Kahlua continued humming along softly, proud of herself for what she had learned to accomplish, glad that she had finally found something in her life that she was actually good at and pleased that she had even been able to use it towards a larger goal. And she was even beginning to feel useful to Dragomir, in that perhaps she was actually offering him something he didn't already know, when he delved off into questions she would never have even thought of on her own, let alone having answers to them.

Her humming stopped as she listened, taking in his words, but left all aflutter in trying to process them into something that made sense. “Hmm,” she offered with a chuckle and a shake of her head. She had fooled him once, perhaps twice, into thinking she was smart, a scholar as well as a crafter, but illusions never last long, and Kahlua had never been good at keeping up false appearances anyway. At least she could answer the first question. “The mists will pick them up and solidify into the glass, as you see here,” she nodded to the work that was conveniently hovering before her. “Or, with the scorpion, I tried to... melt them?” Was that the right word? “So that the glass would turn blue instead of clear and it worked.”

As for the rest, she had no answer, and told him such with a bright laugh. Perhaps, if she ever gave up her position, he would be better at her than this. After all, he seemed to want to ask questions she had no desire in asking, or answering. Nevertheless, her feelings were not hurt. She was used to not knowing. “When I'm done I'll have you take this to Shadow, if you want,” she chatted on, her bright soprano continuing to fill the air. “She's supposed to give some palm leaves in trade. And- Oh! Maybe you can make friends with their crafter, too. We'll need metal hinges, at some point, you see, for Res' greenhouse... You can offer a trade!” And so she smiled brightly, pleased with herself for having thought of it at all, hoping he would accept what little job she could offer him. If she could share her magic she would...


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#6
He envisions her gift as the words slip past her lips in description, understanding now why the trinket she had been given in exchange held the shape of a scorpion as well. Again, he looks at it, the whirring and terribly interesting creature given to his teacher by the murderers, and wonders who it is that creates such things.

The scorpion is small. It is worrisome to wonder what size the artisan is limited to, what power.

His ear flicks backward with the thought on its tip, the boy resolutely deciding that he would not fret so heavily on the thing at this moment. Happiness was at his muzzle’s point, a gleaming gem with Kahlua’s name writ in its heart, and he would dwell upon the pleasant rather than the dark and foreboding for once.

"A suitable creature for the Basin," he settles on, though he figures that the image of a pile of raccoon refuse might more suit Mirage’s image of them. He won’t elaborate, however – the gleam of pride in the painted mares eyes sends another swarm of butterflies flittering through his belly, and he cannot bare the thought of crushing her smile. He has found few moments of inner peace since his arrival to Helovia, and while the rush of flutters in his tummy wasn’t exactly peaceful, it wasn’t the aching emptiness he felt when he thought of his loneliness or the sickening sensation that swept his mind whenever he thought of black feathers strewn across muddy earth.

While she worked, his body took on a posture of relaxation, hind hoof tilted with its large tip dug into the ground for balance. Every ten minutes or so, he switches the leg his weight rests on, occasionally tilting his head or drawing his nose nearer the creation to observe the magic at work.

The colorizing process was interesting as she explained it, bringing his chocolate ears forward in full attention as he eagerly nods his head in confirmation that he hears her words. He can see it, as vague as her description is, and it sends a different sort of rush through his veins than the one he feels when her eyes meet his own.

The peak of his elation staggers when she admits she does not know. Perhaps she does not know everything he had hoped she did… though he quickly shakes the thought away.

She was a brilliant philosopher, and new to her powers. Perhaps she had simply not had adequate time to study.

"It could be worth studying," he says with a bright smile, an idea occurring to him suddenly, grin brightening and words tumbling out with the most enthusiasm Kahlua has ever heard him pronounce anything with. "What if you could meld the diamond to the glass, like with the blue scorpion?" his eyes are saucers, gleaming and brilliantly blue beneath the dark lines of his lashes, "do you have any idea how strong the glass could be? As if it was of triple thickness, quadruple even, and just as clear!"

Realizing he was probably sounding an awful lot like the inexperienced, young, and very not suave stallion that he is, Dragomir’s smile grows wry and apologetic as he attempts to brush away both his own embarrassment and the rambling nature of his thoughts put to words. "Even dragon’s fire can’t melt diamonds."

When she discusses sending him on an errand, he quite woefully groans within himself though tries to maintain face for the sake of the Glass Maker. Of all those he had met who called the Dragon’s Throat home, they all had worn wings, and while he did not know that this Shadow was the mystery mare he was trying like all hell to avoid, he surely didn’t want to walk into the den of pigeons.

It just seemed so risky.

But it was Kahlua. And the matter of the greenhouse was another large interest of his, the idea simply wondrous in theory and something he desired greatly to see in place.

Curse Nieque for this fence I have found myself on, he thinks gruffly, looking at the cheerful features of his tutor with a slight down turn of the corners of his lips, and curse him for pushing me onto this side of the damn thing.

"I can do this," he says, more confirming the notion to himself than agreeing to the task at hand. Already on the wind, however, the young man cannot revoke his words, and is left with the bittersweet taste on his tongue.

Honor, he repeats to himself.

Fiend, hisses his past.


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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#7

A suitable creature for the Basin, he mused and Kahlua couldn't help but smirk a little bit, even to her own dismay. Change didn't happen overnight, after all. And while she was trying very hard, had set her mind to the task with vehemence, it did not make her a saint among horses. She was still fallible, still impressionable and still, somewhere in the very back recesses of her mind, still thought of the unicorns as frightening beasts that required caution and a gentle had, patience and persistence. The scorpion was suitable, indeed.

Admittedly, working with company was so much better than working alone. Plus, it was encouraging to have the stallion's rapt attention when she, albeit ineloquently, explained the process of melting the glass, and everything else. The juxtaposition of the two horses was a fine example of what greatness was able to be achieved with working together. The girl herself was the artistic side, the beauty, of their calling. And Dragomir? He was the brain, the logic, the scientist. Together they could make a trojan horse if they needed- the finest of gifts to be given to their enemies, but a beast indisguise.

Yes, perhaps together, they could see to it that the meek inherited the world, that the simple crafters would rise to the top and brilliant, useful members of society. If only Kahlua's strange desire for recognition, for power, involved a more ruthless technique.

And then a new tone in his voice, one she had not been graced with before- one she had not even heard in Fuhrer's voice, except perhaps when they were very, very young. And this made her truly smile. Because, for the first time, Dragomir was entirely separate from her brother. There was no longer that odd hint in the back of her mind that Dragomir was Fuhrer in disguise, that the gods had morphed Fuhrer's body and mind to come haunt her while she yet lived, that Fuhrer would shed Dragomir's flesh and stand before her in all his royal glory again. No, he was simply Dragomir, acolyte crafter, and the girl's work slowed for a moment as she reveled in the realization.

But it sped up again in time, as she grew used to the new tone and as he asked her questions of her craft that she had no earthly right being asked, let alone being expected to answer. Some teacher. And did she have any idea how hard diamond glass would be? No, not really, but she obliged him with an excited laugh and tried to imagine it. “It would be brilliant for the warriors,” she offered with genuine interest, then, as she remembered how much energy it had taken to temper Kaj's chainmail to a hardness she thought would resist damage. And even then, she wasn't sure it would hold up against all damage. “We'll have to find diamonds and try it sometime,” though she did not know where they would get them.

And if only the girl knew about Dragomir's transgressions- what would she say of him then. That he was a monster like the unicorns of the North? Ah, but she did not, and so she was only pleased when the stallion agreed to the venture. “Thank you,” she murmured in time, not realizing any of the dilemma that she had put the stallion in.

And for a while time flowed on, the thing molding and shifting, until the creation was done and she let it fall gently to the floor beneath their hooves. It looked a little large for a foal, perhaps- but how much time did Kahlua spend with young children? And besides, he would have to grow... right? The weariness in her bones was nothing like what had been felt after the glass wall, after Dragomir had nearly had to drag her away from the thing to safety, and since she could still walk steadily, she moved past the glass chainwork to Dragomir's side, nudging his neck if he would let her, and letting her voice dance out again. “Well, what do you think?”


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#8

He revels quietly in the soft turns of her lips, the way her lids flutter in concentration and how otherwise still she is while she is working. He enjoys her this way, undistracted by myriad bodies with souls she has come to love, so very unlike himself in how she flutters from heart to heart, landing for a brief moment for the lucky subject of her focus to admire the colors of her wings. This way, she is more completely his to enjoy, relaxed and comforting in her warmth, and he is peaceful around her when she too is at peace.

The lag of her work speed does not go unnoticed, the easily shamed stag mistaking her thoughts on brothers to be a dislike of his mindless chattering. His initial worry slaked back as she more vigorously worked once more, seemingly with his increased description of why it was he had been curious about the way various objects melded into the glass.

Her laughter breaks the anxious sweat that threatens to build on his brow when his words are concluded, the inexperienced man taking the sound to be one that equals his own delight rather than a noise representative of a shoulder shrug and a slow, easy “I have no idea.”

Still, her voice is enthusiastic and matches his imagined Kahlua well, and he smiles in return of her words with as broad a grin as had swept his face when the idea had first occurred to him. He truly had little clue as to where he might find diamonds, either, but he knew that there were precious stones around the Heart if one could manage to break them free of the stone.

"Indeed," he begins, watching the trinket form with even more avid interest now that it is nearing completion, "I believe there are gemstones around the Heart. I just don’t know how to get them out of the ground is all." He glances at her from one pale blue eye, smile almost apologetic for he cannot bring her all that she desires on his own. "There is a pretty thick layer of melted sand over it all – glass, I mean."

Quickly engrossed in the project at Kahlua’s hooves, the conversation slips away with minor additions in response to her thanks at this offer to deliver the item to the one who had ordered it. Before he knows it (and much too soon, truly – he quite enjoys the company of the Glazier and observing the work she does) she has finished her creation, which lies gleaming and whole in the faint, bough filtered light of the afternoon as she playfully jostles his neck.

She asks him what he thinks.

He cannot think.

For a while he stands there and pretends to be focusing on the crown, though he already knows it is beautiful and without flaw. His heart is going to explode, he just knows it. He can feel the blood pressing its way into every nook and cranny of his body, fighting its way through the layers of his flesh to surely burst outward and across all of the clearing they have spent the day in.

Thankfully, no such thing happens, and he is able to respond within a respectable amount of time. His shame is minimal; he is pleased with himself for learning to control his hormones so fully even on the day of their discovery, and it leaves him smiling most moronically, one corner of his mouth skewed at a different angle from the other, his eyes slightly off focus (though hopefully not terribly so) before he blinks away the bleariness and returns his gaze to the most beautiful Glazier. "It is perfect," he says, his grin growing more even and filling with his warm pride towards his teacher…

No matter that she was only teaching him how to be around a pretty girl.

Perhaps, even, how to earn forgiveness when one deserves none. Returning his thoughts to the task of delivery, he reinstates who it is for and where he will be going to drop it off. "Shadow, of the Dragon's Throat, right?" he asks, his brow arching upwards as he notices the size of the thing Kahlua has made, "She's awfully little, isn't she?"


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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#9

The gemstones at the Heart- she'd seen them too, many times, and always wondered how to get at them. She had grabbed a few here and there- gems that seemed to loosen themselves with time or with weather- it was how she had managed to gather the few blue stones that had been required for the scorpion but Dragomir was definitely right about the layer of glass that acted as a barrier- though the painted girl was more than a little surprised to find out that glass was really just melted sand. The things you learn.

All in all, the stallion should have counted himself rather lucky. Even with her less than astute powers of observation, the painted girl surely could have picked up on the weird, lopsided grin that he wore and the way his eyes stared off into the distance a little instead of paying attention to what as going on. But, because she was exhausted, the painted girl hardly lifted her gaze from the ground. That rush of adrenaline that came with finishing a piece of art, that moment of joy that overrode any exhaustion, was beginning to fade and she was once again realizing that the magic was not for free- her body paid the price with every creation she made.

In the end, hearing that it was perfect from Dragomir was really all that she needed- affirmation. Her smile was gentle and her blue eyes bright as she looked up to him. But her laughter was what really betrayed her tiredness. It was bright and cheery, but nowhere near the explosive brilliance it usually was. “For an unborn foal- or, well, unborn when I talked with her!” and she chuckled again, but impulse won out and she soon decided she was too tired even to continue chatting with her friend.

A yawn widened her features (though she did chuckle a little to herself that seemed to be half-asleep for half of her and Dragomir's meetings). “I think I'm going to rest now, friend,” she continued, hoping he would understand. It was not that she wanted to be away from him, it was that her body demanded this time to recover. “You can use my basket to carry it, if you want and... If you have trouble, let me know,” she offered before trying to nudge him one more time, then motioning just to the side where her basket lay nestled in her copse of trees.


OOC| merp, sorry so short, trying to finish up a few of my older threads to make room for some new ones ^.^


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#10
How fate saves Dragomir from his own innocent infatuation will be amusing to him on a later date; at the moment, it is only a deep gratitude towards the weaving of time that Kahlua does not see the stars burning in his eyes and lighting his blood on fire and a sense of failure towards himself that fills his emotional well, alongside the strange way she makes him feel with each graceful movement of her flawless body.

Now that he really looked at her, she seemed tired (much less so than after the wall, of course, but it was a curious observation to know that the magic stripped one of their physical strength much as a long day at work could), her head low and her sparkling effervescence faded. It became glaringly obvious in the subdued way her chiming laughter burst into the air, as if the bells were coated in wool.

The answer supplied all he needed to know about the smallness of the object, and he nods and laughs brightly in return, no weariness etched into his bones as it was his teacher’s. He again feels a pang of concern for the woman, his gentleman’s heart desiring to lead her to her place of rest and assure that she is left alone in the still serenity of the wood to gather her strength again. It would probably be too much though, even he knows this.

And so he only enjoys his final moments with her this afternoon, swallowing each golden second as if it is an elixir that will fuel him until he next gets to share time in her company.

It is a strange feeling, now that he recognizes it.

Almost too quickly, the conversation is at an end. He takes in her final words and nods that he understands them, but inwardly refuses the offer to use the basket. While it is pretty and Kahlua looks splendid while holding it, he disdains the idea of appearing so feminine, the Little Red Riding Hood come to deliver a shining glass tiara.

No thank you, Miss Kahlua.

"I should be back before long," he says, smiling as he gathers the tiara up in his mouth and moves to complete his task, his finishing words muffled across the smooth surface of the item, "hop’fulleh wif some pahm leafs."

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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3


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