the Rift


Unlock the Door and Lay the Cornerstone [Open]

Marco Posts: N/A
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#1

Marco
a long, long, long, way, way from my home




Mama had always told me about the rite of passage.

Her reserved voice commonly recalled her own bank full of memories when she had seen her former children, my brothers and sisters, pass through the rite of passage. I heeded her warning that I would be swiftly removed due to my gender, because it was the cycle of life in the horse herd - instinct reigned in the kingdom we drifted along in the abstract wall guarding from another world. Back then, I disapproved immensely of leaving behind mama. But I matured each day since the words were spoken where I realized I was already weaned, and capable of dimming the mother-son bond we had. Melancholy spread through every fiber of my emotions; evoked by the thought of leaving, but mama told me that I'll be fine.

It was already time for me to begin the rites months later. I was urged onward towards the east where my isolation would begin. What did I feel? Fear, no doubt. I felt it's unattractive nature seep into my confidence on survival. I began to questioned my own abilities where the best of what I could do was speak. Fortunately, the instincts to migrate to an unknown destination finally kicked in, and I began to travel for what felt like an eternity. My legs sped with intensity to find a band, but I often forgot I had any limits in my body. An urgent ache was one miniscule spot until it grew, and spread throughout my body. Exhaustion caught up with me.

The sensation was peculiar, as if I had crossed into a new region. It was a silly thought! Obviously the region was certainly a stranger to my eyes, and the other senses I was gifted with since conception. My vision focused in on the unfamiliar details while the forest-like scenery had some similar feel to add to my comfort. I wasn't exactly in the zone of complete stillness. My body fidgeted as I took it easy, in spite of how heavy my breathing was and my lungs hissed at the drudgery, and the reminder it was conceived in my organismic form. Perhaps the feeling of energy pumping into my veins was what kept me going when my ears attempted to catch waves of sound from every direction, eyes peered towards the blurred landscape in the distance, and nose catching whiff of territorial markings. Smell of equines, which pumped more blood and quickened the pulsing muscle. The idea of meeting other horses was an amiable idea, but I was on my own now. Sooner or later, I would have to confront someone in order to complete the instinctual rite of passage.
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Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#2



By the grace of the Sun God, naturally, and with the help of her avian counterpart, Africa slipped from the vastness of that exposed meadowland and into the concealment of the Threshold forest. The journey had not been without trepidation; always the thought of those insatiable wraiths licking at her wayward heels drove her harder and faster, covering the plagued landscape between The Sanctuary and the verge of Helovia at breakneck speed. As she fell into the ribbed tree line, thickest there by the southernmost perimeter, the mare’s heaving breath broke through the clench of her pearly teeth; spewing into the pungent, familiar hue of that region that welcomed her now into relative safety- those who had been scouting this far, proclaimed it to be untouched still by the wraiths spanning the country.

Theirs was a partnership built on the foundations of compromise and objectivity; both held conflicting aspirations- she was tender-hearted and he was militaristically-minded; each benefited from the stark contrasting motivation of the other. On this occasion, they had fled the subterranean refuge in favour of Silas’s quest for approval by the army; the resistance, and ventured north courageously despite the many perils lurking through the ever expanding shadow of Helovia’s Darkest hour. Naturally Africa might have preferred to hide away and let those overly ambitious, thrill seeking souls throw their own lives into jeopardy, but for the sake of her mate and the bond shared, they had left.

Feeding on the anticipation and wild danger surrounding, Silas guided them deeper into the Threshold- and there the pair began to hunt for the lost and wandering; the newcomers, and those searching for a fresh start in the old familiar land. Regardless, Africa and Silas were determined to bring those souls to safety; preferably into the warm bosom of their own stalwart herd. And soon enough their quest came upon another, a colt perhaps just above the brink of childhood; his brown coat tattered, mane and tail tangled and entwined with bramble and burr- evidence of a journey, no doubt.

Silas swept rapidly into the low bough of an oak near to the small horse, and summoned his beloved through the powerful bind of their hearts. The Oracle answered readily, her hurried stride without the natural care which so often governed her arrival- there was no time for elusiveness; for gracefulness and majesty. The mare found them quickly, pausing to note the colt’s lack of wings, the absence of a horn thoughtfully; and with her face lifted high to test the air which billowed constantly around them, Africa began. “Hello, I’m Africa, and the Zephyr is Silas.” Quickly and appropriately she gestured towards the avian whose shining dark gaze darted between the one-winged mare and her company. “We hail from the herd of Dragon’s Throat.” For a moment she paused- despite the waves of urgency dealt into her mind from the bird.

What is your name?” The Oracle asked. ‘No time!’ Came the silent murmur, and she glanced apprehensively at Silas; her pale gaze softening when it returned to the colt. She waited only for his answer, and continued then with rather more haste- none should stay roaming when later the sun set, and neither Africa or the boy held capacity for flight and the security that proffered. “We must travel south quickly. A sickness haunts these lands, and to avoid it we must be fleet of foot. Can you gallop with me? As fast as you can?” It wasn’t a test nor challenge, but she needed the colt to understand that the insistence lacing her words was humourless; that grave danger would shadow their every move along the way.

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Marco Posts: N/A
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#3

Marco
a long, long, long, way, way from my home




Choices were to be made delicately. Surely I had put my head and my heart in front of me when I had begun what felt like an eternity to my weary form (still moaning at the discomfort I had inflicted upon it). I was not meant to direct myself without help. I was no navigator! My appearance was enough to reveal that I had taken more than a stroll across the valley. I questioned if any passing equines saw the dazed language my body was instinctively posing as. I felt dazed, confused. The paths branched out endlessly, and the appearance of the entire landscape laid out in front of me made any hopeful decisions to choose the right path useless.

Rapidly, my neck rose and my body stiffened at the sound of hooves hitting the earth. Before my second year, self-consciousness had ravaged my love for my exterior based solely on the petite size of my ears. It took me some time to realize I could still hear as vividly as any other colt and filly, and I channeled what memory laid in store within my skull to recognize sounds in case peril lurked nearby. Whether it had graced me with effectiveness or not, I found myself waiting.

A blur of grey emerged from the darker shade of the trees casting their shadows, and highlights from the sun peered through nooks and crannies. Its movement involved a sense of speed overcoming the aesthetic animation. I could finally spot the full view of a slightly older equine standing in front of me - a mare, and a bird creature with her. I felt a twinge of guilt for not approaching another living, breathing organism and having to be the one found without even trying anymore. Nothing stirred in my instincts as danger! to the silent voice that was my conscience. Rather, I was fascinated by the bird serving as a companion; wings apparent, a darting gaze. Imagine having wings! The topic swiftly transitioned to another branch based upon feathers where I caught sight of a wing attached to the skin of the mare. To be honest, my herd surrounded itself with grounded equines. Never a winged one possibly capable of unfurling wings and gaining altitude in flight like a bird!

My ears tuned in: I listened intently to what could be a life-changing moment. Once upon a time, I was naturally cheesy with the lines in my mind where I fantasized a glorious adventure with old playmate. I still did. I finally could distinguish with names if I ever wanted to use the vocals I was blessed with.The mare was Africa and the bir- no, a Zephyr - was referred to as Silas.

"I'm Marco." I answered; my brown eyes gleamed brightly. The words, however small, had escaped my jaw in a better tone than I expected. Recently, I had fretted over a conversation-starter with the first stranger-horse I would meet. "Dragon's Throat", though? I had some odd uncertainty this journey would end vainly. In a throat of a "dragon."

My reply was hastily answered. My thoughts had to be canceled to heed words of reality from Africa. Her voice implied nothing with what I had originally expected, but I could sense there was an issue at hand. Did I need to decipher it further? I did not know why I even brought up more questions that I wanted to ask. I would stall! I felt my own bones chill of the thought of a plague roaming around when I had just got here. Dread closed around my enthusiasm when it made sense I would have to make movement again. I had some time to rejuvenate, but the childish part of me was openly vocal to let out a low groan.

I tried to straighten out my form to prove I could push through the ebbs and towards my strengths - to my true speed. "I-I think I can still gallop. I mean, I have enough energy! I may be a new arrival, but I can still follow!" I finally responded. I nearly scrambled the words, and with low annunciation due to how fast I sped through it. Urgency prodded at the core where all my energy inhabited it; during the slow recovery, too. I might as well gamble what I could spare in following Africa and Silas.
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"blah blah blah."




Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#4



Lathered in sweat; fine foam formed where her skin rubbed and grazed together, the Oracle needed not suggest the taxing nature of all that world soon envelope them. Her long mane clung in sodden ropes to the steaming breadth of her long, quietly arcing neck; the thick wad of forelock at its crowning, spilt heavily to the right of the same eye, where the subtle angle of her face insisted it rest. A haze of flies bothered her constantly, allured by the inevitable stress of her journey north, and intermittently her crimson strewn tail snapped viciously to lash at the generous bow of her hips. Weeks in the cool, dank underground had been apparently more comfortable than she had imagined, and even now when the cool shift between summer and winter doused the country, she felt the burden of humidity.

‘No time!’ Silas repeated, the sharp hook of his beak clacking loudly into the half beneath warningly. He was fidgeting as he watched, dancing his agitating across the gnarled limb which groaned resentfully at his impatient animation. ‘Fear darkness…’

She was a kindly creature, though recent tensions were inescapably wrought throughout the dappled canvas stretched to fit her lean, classy frame. Despite that, the worry lurking behind the pale softness of her eyes was diluted with compassionate understanding that was a gift to match the countless experiences sharpening her mind, and those grim lessons humbling her heart. The colt who stood before her so innocently, so oblivious, retaliated to her counsel with a steadiness that was not anticipated; wavering ears bathed in coaly-grey down grasped only the cooperative words of a soul whose trust had perhaps not yet been tried by those cruellest in the world- she felt his courage, even though his voice fumbled with the rapidness of her own heart.

A gentle smile wrapped snugly around the velvet taper of her face and she stiffened appropriately, shielding him from her yielding nature for now. Should a brow have perched above the almond curve of her eye, it might have cocked to portray the interest with otherwise leaked into the translucency of her pretty pallid face. “Excellent Marco.” She fought the affectionate smile pinching the wrinkled corners of her mouth, not wishing to trump the seriousness of their situation with the sensitivity brimming within (the colt was endearing, she could not deny that), and continued with a chivalrous nod. “You might prove to be a very valuable asset to our herd with such longsuffering legs, and spirit to match. I can only a hope a home is something you seek.

Fluttering nostrils released warm approval and Africa began to turn herself towards the south- the never ending labyrinth of trees, the fringe of the meadow and the danger beyond. ‘Let’s go…’
The bird swooped with such propulsion that the branch hosting him swayed unhappily, and Silas continued ahead to scout their path. “It is time valiant one, let’s go.” There would be ample time to discuss merit and futures when the stone walls of The Sanctuary surrounded them- for now though, the young mare struck out at a brisk trot; one which would in turn increase to a swift gallop to trial that valour which echoed Marco’s willing words.


[ooc: Huge apologies for holding Marco up. Crazy life has slowed again! After your reply here, I will put up a thread for them in the Sanctuary and we can continue there <3]


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Marco Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#5

Marco
a long, long, long, way, way from my home




The words flowed freely from my mouth. Noises made, communication heard, and comprehension left unspoken with only body language to indicate what was bound to occur. I fell into this cycle of repetition: politeness in front of strangers was key as mama had often drilled into my skull. Until the short-term thought was no more, it rattled my vulnerable musings of foreign topics compared to communication. I chattered before, and it was how most could grasp what I wanted whether it was to go off and frolic with my fellow playmates, or question what my curiosity pulled myself through and through. Sometimes I regretted to grasp the true concepts behind silence.

As always, my vision focused briefly on the bird - Silas - sometimes darting focus in another direction. I caught wind of his urgency unless my ability to observe needed work. It was unusually elating; satisfying my inner boy, and contributing to a silent fantasy. The fantasy? I conjured a fabricated future where I could admit that I met an avian companion during my rites. The whole process upon a feathered creature could get tedious after some time. Instead, I turned to other topics: the sunlight; and the warmth surely cooked the tender skin beneath my fur by now.

Africa had caught my attention again. I habitually caught myself off-guard more times than I should, but the heeded words lingered, and tapped against the surface where the boundaries were laid for forgotten lines and others stalled to remain longer. Her face was genuinely benign, and it reminded me of those back home with soft expressions. Homesickness was quick to surface, but instinct reminded me that life wasn't exactly going to return to former times. Still, her words made my excitement increase with minimum, voluntary effort.

My bottom jaw was quick to drop open, but the hinges still worked if I wanted to muster up a reply. Glee enveloped me in its positive feeling. Eventually, I could say something, "A home?" Obviously, I took to flattery which was openly willing to leak into my mild expression. The offer was more appealing, and my heart swelled, "I get to join your herd?"

The sore muscles bunched as I lifted my legs one by one. I bent a few in a gradual fashion to eventually transform into an excitable dance. I would escape this foreign region on a valiant journey! My eyes trailed towards her actions. Her movements indicated a shift in direction. I mimicked her movements until the front view faced the south of the tree labyrinth. Every small detail in how her gait transformed was mimicked - the unsteady transition into a trot before I struggled to catch up by converting to a full-blown gallop. My chest expanded to allow oxygen to inhabit my lungs.

The start was difficult all around. Another trial needed to be overcome near the end. The rites of passage was now over because I had found the finish line.
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Comments: 'Tis all good. This should be a good ending point for this thread!
"blah blah blah."





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