the Rift


[OPEN] Home away from home [welcome, Marco]

Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#1
She smiled freely, unable to recoil that amusement which spread like the plague through her pale, slim face. Their expressions perhaps, were equally transparent- Africa cared little, while his reactions soothed still further the agitation leaking from Silas. She had never been one to rush through this process after all, and even though the threat of wraiths and sickness seemed to shift with the banded shadows of the trees all around, the young dappled mare began to settle her strain. She chose not to answer him at once; the time to linger had truly been overdrawn, and watched through the corner of her sharp eye while she moved southern-bound, the way Marco mimicked her graceful strides. For the sake of the mission she had presented to him (still without enforcing that vulnerability about the embrace them both), the Oracle lifted her knees playfully.

This journey- if not the last, would be a test to defy all the courage lurking in their hearts.

As the valiant colt matched carefully her pace, Africa eased gently to accommodate his determination; to make that drive a little more maintainable. With the length of her long, crimson streaked tail snapping and swishing behind, she guided him towards the fringe of the forest, where the unruly wilderness of the sickened Helovia would welcome him sourly. It was not the magical world the mare was used to, nor was she terrible pleased to welcome him into its hungry mouth. For now they could only pray to their Gods- her own Lord, the proud patron of the sunburnt southern archipelago, that some retribution could be raised to confront it. She paused tentatively by the tree line, fidgeting warily with dancing hooves and writhing adrenaline as flimsy snippets of the field beyond came back clear through the juvenile connection of her bond with Silas. She could see his swarthy silhouette sweeping vast circles ahead of them, and she pressed constantly into his mind for that sliver of worry; the hint that they were no longer alone.

‘…The Meadow… quiet… alone.’

Africa turned spontaneously to brush her whiskered maw by the young recruit’s downy ears; a swift gesture to check on him and make sure he was still able to follow. "Come…" She whispered heavily against them, and sprang forward with her lonely, useless right wing partly unfurled by instinct. Through the sea of long grass she galloped; thistles snagging viciously to tangle through the flail of her lush mane and knot together the streaming fibres of her thick, long tail. Nothing else mattered but the boy’s safety now, and she never swayed from her assignment to lead him, even when the grass concealed rogue rocks and unyielding logs. She cleared them all, and monitored Marco all the while dutifully.

She did not pause when the grasses of the meadow began to grow and hedge about her lifted, straining throat. It was a bitter sweet feeling to stagger exhaustedly with numbing legs into that strawy, head high ocean again- although they could not be seen now, those wraiths which hunted through this region might also creep unnoticed. They had Silas though and the Zephyr’s extravagant wings span, glittered with star-shine as he wheeled above them attentively. They had been so lucky, Africa could not thank the Sun God enough for that coat of protection obviously laid across their mortal spines. Silently she repeated- thank you, oh thank you… though still her haste remained unchanged.

The lake of fire glistened ahead, and for once Africa slid nearer to its formidable presence. Leaving the concealment of grass to swelter by the molten liquid bubbling by the earth’s parched crust. Watchfully she checked the colt so that he did not hesitate; did not succumb to the temptation to stop and look- to admire those gems now smiling wickedly beneath their tread. "Quickly Marco. We are almost there," she offered with the first smile in many hours, and turned her face briefly. The lake was left behind, and suddenly before them the grass was sprouting again, small wiry dry shoots at first (grasping for the scarce nutrients in their bed), and still a little further the ground opened frightfully- although the Oracle knew that their salvation lay beneath.

With gasping relief she threw her trembling, aching corpse beneath the Heart and only when The Sanctuary’s most beautiful chamber engulfed them did she stop.

"Well done. We are safe."

Africa
@[Marco]

Marco Posts: N/A
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#2

Marco
I've traveled all this way for something




It had only been a few minutes into the journey since the moment I chose to follow Africa.

The consequence of my choice would whisk me away into the unknown. If I held any powers of an oracle, I would still be discontent with the visions given to me; crystal-clear or not. Any conjuration of what the final outcome would be weighed heavily on my skull, and I even felt a twinge of a headache threatening to erupt. Sometimes it was for the best I would steer away from the paranormal, but it was always the same: what-if? Truly, I wanted to absorb the world all at once, but I bit off more than I can chew, as mama always told me. I once told her I would chew-se that, and I was positive her dish-shaped face mimicked an abstract sense of horror.

These little talks in my head soothed the boredom beginning to take shape. It did not curb the home-sickness I still felt, but I constantly reminded myself that this nice mare would ensure safety and a homeland. A herd! It was a dream I was sure no sober colt with my mindset would assume, and accept so eagerly. I wanted to ask so many questions, but a tedious portion of the journey laced itself in its irksome concept that I was sure opening my jaw would emit a loud squealing sound than a civil tongue. So, I clamped my mouth shut, and I focused on the shift of scenery compared to the entrance into a threshold, and emerging through the spine and out the maw or the backside. I hadn't a clue. It was still silent between us besides the sounds of hooves and the wind and a pair of wings merging as one. I ended up humming nothing, but an annoying sound for a few moments.

My legs constantly moved with a more speedier pace to keep up with the mare. I involuntarily became noisy in my exhaustion - my labored breathing, specifically - although nothing else seemed to signal its alarm besides the working lungs and legs. Genuinely surprised, I was positive I wouldn't survive so easily on a body kept in poor shape when instinct built itself so much on running - and fighting.

Something swiftly brushed against my petite ears. Instantly, my eyes rolled towards the origin; and to breathe relief. She spoke! It was one syllable, but it was enough. I didn't reply just yet; more mesmerized by the recognition of a wing unfurled, partially, yet it still held fascination. Nothing was said out loud over it. An extra question kept in silence. A brisk light highlighted itself in my vague attempt to emote. The attention was pleasing while I continued to keep up, and kept my face upon the one monitoring occasionally. It took me awhile to discover her body movements involved some staggering. Yet her pace never faltered.

"I don't mean to offend, but do you need to rest? You're working so hard." I uttered softly. It was the first words I had made before the journey, and I tried to sound mature about the whole thing. I don't know what the haste countered, but the landscapes seem so beautiful, yet so wistful. I was ignorant as they came - being a foreigner of this land.

More traveling; more sights to see. I still worried for the tolls it could take on an equine at this rate. Eventually, I noticed the shift in landscapes: no more grass, but I was instantly awed by the bright rocks surrounding us. I almost paused if it wasn't for Africa's voice ringing from a hearing distance between us, A glimpse of a smile formed upon the grey maw that it was voluntary to smile back with a goofy version filled with embarrassment and glee. When her head turned away, my mind thought of the gems gleaming with an aesthetically pleasing image. No doubt; at the corner of my eye, I glanced back towards the real deal and how it began to fade away as we continued to tread through and through until relief and Africa spoke together.

I wanted to collapse then and there from both exhaustion and relief, but not knowing what was the more appropriate action gnawed at my body. "Safe..." I breathed. Assumption theorized there was a lurking danger, but I was never fully confident in my own mind.
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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
#3
Silas wheeled beneath the vast, dim canopy of damp rock at last. Intoxicating relief engulfed his being just as overwhelmingly as it spread through the hum of his beloved’s mind, and the guttural sound of his cry filled the space there below the earth. Adrenaline stilled simmered thrilling fear through the pulse of his veins, and for a long while he could not stop at all, to bath in the glorious security embracing them. He fluttered between the supple branches of ethereal trees; the cloud of their glowing leaves far more beautiful than any rich rainforest above, and after a long while, his heart’s beating pace began to steady.

Worry had dissolved from the light-golden gaze of the mare as she turned with trembling nostrils and heaving breath to fumble admiringly about his downy black-brown ears with her lips. "Yep," she answered as quietly and soothingly as her rasping lungs could manage when he repeated her revelation "We can both rest now. Start from scratch if you like even..." The airy sound of her soft giggling billowed around them like a warm summer breeze, and she let weary legs fold beneath the dead weight of her frame.

"Come lie with me," the dappled mare suggested, feeling the cushy comfort of thick matted of moss and strange grass beneath. Her only wing lay beneath the roll of her barrel; it could not gesture for him in typical Pegasus fashion, so her long white-drenched forelegs curled instead to offer a comforting cradle should he wish to rest against her sweaty warmth. Even if he fell away, bold and independent like his behaviour suggested he might, she would not mind, and the Oracle’s face lifted to scout through the few bodies loitering around the room. "Where have you come from Marco. Tell me about yourself and your travels." A humbling quiet fell upon them as her voice faded away, and the lengthy tilt of attentive ears trained upon the young horse.


Africa
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#4

Africa had returned home without my notice. I’d been resting in one of the shadowy corners before Fina came flying in from yon entrance. Her talons locked around some prize that had been hard earned. She had expressed complaints about how difficult hunting had become, “Do so in the cave,” I replied, already knowing her response. There was plenty of lizards and such to be hand in our feeding lobby. To which she scoffed and said, “Rather go outside.” I shrugged, understanding her dislike for this cave. How long had it been since my own wings had touched a blue sky, overlooking a pale horizon that was burnt up by a blazing aurora? My heart lurched, yearning for the vision I could clearly see past my closed eyelids. The phoenix cooed mildly, knowing my pangs almost better than myself.

I turned toward the room filled with glowing grass and misty timbers. Fina soared on ahead, eager to find a landing spot to perch from. Sweet smelling flora greeted our approach, as did company. Africa was resting, standing by her side was a stranger—obviously not one of ours for I’d never seen his mug before. Brows rose as Fina found her spot in a nearby fir tree, its branches aglow with strange greenish light.

“Greeting sister, and to ye as well.” I nodded toward them both, lowering my muzzle toward the earthy greens and snatching up a mouthful. Feathers brushed low as I leaned ahead, they curled tightly together against barrel when I rose crewing the soft down growth in polite mouthfuls that suited lady company.

Our colours come alive when I collide with you
with you, with you
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Marco Posts: N/A
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#5

Marco
I've traveled all this way for something




My droopy eyes flickered towards Africa; hearing the crisp sound dubbed confirmation. My last word was drawled out before then, but it had to be interrupted by the chilly oxygen entering and welcoming itself as a guest in my system. Her words meant well about a chance to finally rest up, but while my mind was filled with the utter truth of an even further distance from an old life, I had to chastise my behavior for yearning on past memories. It was best to start from scratch in the Throat of the Dragon, or something along the lines of the name given to the herd I had yet to meet in a crowd. My conscience! Don't stare bleakly now; I mean no troubles that I had burdened my dear friend with to be in vain.

I think my own words had decided to challenge me as my independent mindset swiftly pursued an answer I would have to live with. I heard the suggestion. A sight to see: comforting as Africa formed a space for any to be cradled within. A chill lingered within my growing form, and it pleaded with me, a desire to fill that space, literally. My body rocked forward as if to answer the suggestion with movement, but hesitation caught myself from leaning any further. Eventually, I couldn't wait any longer, and I approached slowly before my legs allowed me to sit on the floor. Lids squeezed shut. I wonder where I landed - a few inches away from the other horse. She radiated warmth. Surely I performed some odd behavior and to go with it; a goofy smile curving the line at my muzzle. Regardless, rest was overcoming any of my typical behavior, and an old pattern of politeness ruled again.

The petite ears attached to my skull flicked forward. I never had anyone ask about my life, but the herd - my old herd - shared an extremely similar schedule so there wasn't an ounce of excitement. Unless one were a story-teller; which I wasn't. To be honest, I wasn't sure where to begin! It would immediately morph into senseless ramblings. I fell into thought until my tongue cooperated with words, "Well..."

I began with this: I was from a land far away from this "foreign" one. Rarely I had met an equine with wings or a horn on top of their forehead, but they existed as my foal-hood friends boasted. They had claimed to have seen them before, but I was quick to judge since they had a knack for lying. I couldn't blame them as I lied myself. The whole fantasy about the paranormal was quick to be shushed. Normalcy was so common that it's existence became a nuisance to the other foals, and we often dreamed of another land. One by one, the lead stallion shooed us away as the second year began to approach for each and every one of us. I wasn't the last, no, but my closest herd mates left me with a sense of loneliness, and fear.

I was next soon enough. A lot of us had scattered in several directions in hopes to seek out another herd, but I wished I could "magically" find out how to check on them and see how their lives were. I imagined them enjoying their lives after the long-winded journey, but I never realized how tiring the journey was. I would love to add a twist to include various monsters, and the unusual case of seasons combining to conjure the perfect storm, but none of that actually happened (I promise I didn't include this in my ramblings to Africa). Rather, it was a really boring journey with dozens of trees and grasslands. If there were any monsters at all, I would claim I heard hooves hitting the earthen soil, and shadows passed behind wide trunks. Perhaps those were other equines like myself, but I needed some adventure as I passed onto a new territory.

I lost track of time, but I had hoped I didn't exceed a long hour of the sort. It was shorter than when I gave the story a novelization in my head, but I did hastily mumble in the middle. I think. If an equine could blush, I would be right now.

Time passed before my stiff neck rotated and the frontal area of my head pointed towards the newcomer. A paint with huge, white wings approached and I fumbled to find my dignity. The urge to behave politely was reacting again, and I didn't want to disappoint one familiar with Africa. A nod; I nodded back.
Words: 768
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Comments: Whoops, late reply! I'll do my best to answer more hastily.
"blah blah blah."




Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#6
The arrival of sunlight where that could never truly reach; glowing glory and beauty he might otherwise have shunned drew rapidly the night-thriving gaze of the Roc. His bright lilac gaze turned towards Fina as she swept before the painted stallion through the eerie glow of the resource room, and silent delight bubbled through his mind. She held tightly in her talons an animal, that much was obvious, yet Silas was not particularly tickled by the concept. He had learned to feast upon that which his beloved enjoyed- berries, bristly pods (or the seeds they contained), the fresh growth of seasonal blooms; and now the spongy luminescent mushrooms and moss which carpeted this rich chamber. None of those streamed fresh blood; never did the thought of killing to pacify his hunger appeal.

Regardless of this, and having felt the sway of her aloofness when both Midas and Africa had spoken last (though fraught it had been), the opportunistic Roc fluttered from the brittle branch he had set himself upon to where Fina alit in a fir- minding his distance diplomatically, given that she was quite apparently preparing to dine. He cawed and croaked lightly in hopeful greeting, flaunting the lavish decoration of purple-sheened, black crest feathering as his neck lengthened to arc charmingly; all the while the peppering of shimmery starlight upon his plumage, brightened heartily in response to his heightened interest and expanding curiosity.

The colt appeared to appreciate the offer of companionship (after brief hesitation); a nurturing embrace. His lean legs brought him alongside the dappled mare and she welcomed him with the delicate flutter of her velveteen nostrils, guiding him down to lay amid her embrace. Pale eyes noted to arrival of the firebird Fina after the sudden surge of her own companion’s interest forced her face around- though she never had to wonder who had arrived; there was only one other (besides herself) who received such attentiveness from the young Zephyr. Marco began to speak of his travels and experiences, and Africa’s eyes brushed across the pallid length of his face- his young complexion, and that plucky spirit animating it. Undeniably the boy was charming- but so had been Dust and Aurelia (both had parted her side; rejected the care and fondness she offered). She could only hope now that this little bay would surprise her.

He spoke on about the length of his journey, and the one-winged Pegasus smiled encouragingly, passing her gaze back towards Midas when he began across the room to meet them. Truly, little time had passed them by. Although the colt’s story at times spilt only as thoughtful mumbling, Africa had been intrigued by all revealed and her ears portrayed her interest tirelessly as they pressed zealously towards the murmur of his voice. By the time Marco had finished, the paint Sultan had paused to graze by them- offering firstly am amiable greeting; ‘true to Midas’ gracious style,’ the mare smiled quietly to herself.

Her young friend nodded, perhaps lost for words- the stallion who had blessed their company, was indeed a magnificent creature to behold. Smiling with warm confidence in the presence of her black and white friend, Africa lifted her nose to speak. "Midas; Marco here is the newest to join our ranks. The journey through the darkness outside was hard, but this fellow’s courage never faltered. Perhaps he might find a tutor in the Throat’s army when the time comes?" Whiskered lips reached to nuzzle the tangle of his thick black mane where it slopped down between his eyes. "Marco, meet our Sultan; Midas is one of our two kings." Billowy breath was released to tumble cheerfully through the rising silence left in wake of her gentle voice.

Africa
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#7

Fina posed on her nearby branch, latched onto that meal tightly with an earthgripping force. Beak lowered and she shred into what remained of the nameless mammal. The phoenix's sharp senses of course wouldn't miss her nighttime ‘friend's,’ cawing, most certainly not. Delicate brow rose, beautiful sea colored pools turned to him expectantly. A sliver of meat hung from the side of her jaw, greedily she slurped it up and puffed out her flaming chest feathers. Glowing tail fanned once, then closed. A crude greeting, but a greeting nonetheless. An improvement I'd say, to the usual scorn which she used to treat her ‘friends' with. It was mostly out of a favor to me that she tolerated this much company. She knew I seemed to favor socializing, and various other annoying things. My happiness meant more to the little braveheart. That wasn’t to say that Africa's little nightingale avian wasn’t starting to weed past her high walls of unexplainable distaste…

Meanwhile…

I chewed quietly, ears pressed ahead to capture the Oracles words when she explained who the young seedling was. Just above the age of youth and emerging as a young adult by his appearance. Kind, almost fatherly gaze swept over his frame, searching for signs of battle scorn or otherwise markings that would distinguish his talents outwardly. When she introduced my title and name I smiled a little and bowed chin to chest sharply in a soldier's salute. “Yar,” lips parted cheerfully, the sound like a rumbling wave in my chest and gentle as a morning ray, “Tis good to have young blood among our ranks. Does ye desire battle and the tireless work of a sentry Marco?”

Our colours come alive when I collide with you
with you, with you
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Marco Posts: N/A
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#8

Marco
I've traveled all this way for something




Instantly, I felt zero regret, letting it slide freely like water unable to grip the smooth edge of a leaf. An invisible grip hid beneath my own leaf - a herd - and and I, the raindrop sent to gift the world with fertility, but bound to lose control and to fall. There were times where I had felt myself falling, falling, but this time, someone was there to catch me; another leaf to descend from the above and land comfortably within its gentle "hand." That was how I currently felt with the welcoming companionship of Africa, her guiding muzzle, and the attention given for a story maintained by myself. I was easily flattered, but I was never neglected in gaining attention either.

Caught in the midst between two adults and two avians (although the newcomer was much different than Silas) looming with one of each, I was stunned for longer than a momentary duration. Bug-eyed, I believed I stared for longer than what mannerism preached in my former life. My head lowered, same with my eyes glancing innocently at the ground I laid upon. Some cracks, and a few jagged edges to accommodate its appearance.

Africa spoke to the magnificent being in front of me. For a second, I nearly willed my exhausted frame to stand and bow to what I wanted to view as a God. My body really did move upwards before it flopped down again with an audible thump! to go with it. Sheer laziness or weariness; I haven't a clue.

I succumbed to a goofy smile appearing upon my lips because I was labeled courageous. My neck straightened before I could listen in on those words about the Dragon's Throat army. 'Army.' The word had a foreign sound to it, but it wasn't entirely a reason to etch a quizzical expression upon my face. Rather, it was a surprise to meet - didn't Africa refer to him as Midas? - Midas; one of the kings ruling over the Throat of the Dragon. Dangerous work to handle a dragon's windpipe.

The king spoke with such interesting vocab! It impressed me. Everything was still sinking in before I had begun to realize he was talking to me. "Uhhh," I drawled out on the word. My inability to reply like a normal equine was bluntly apparent at this point. "Sure. I mean - yes! Yes, sir? Yes, sir!"

I began to chuckle nervously. My face flushing under the embarrassment of burdening Africa with my reply.
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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
#9
The soft wash of glow-light soothed away the outstanding strain which had bound the dappled mare’s thoughts throughout their journey. Although it was an unnatural abode; a quite horrid contrast to the luxury of their dear Dragon’s Throat, that room in particular had indeed become a place of solace. The tumble of water drowned the drone of neighbouring conversations, and while they talked, Africa’s ears held their forward stance with little distraction- save for the frequent, soft clicks and croons offered by her young Roc companion above to his ostentatious company. Her eyes roved harmlessly about the pools of gold rock where they shone beneath the weight of the monochrome stallion’s tread, she was listening though, and drew her eyes higher beyond black capped knees to find his bottomless gold gaze studying the colt. Africa had no reservations; Marco was a well-formed athletic creature whose potential was plainly obvious. Even as the boy’s overly excited response shattered the tranquillity, and the straggling chuckle betrayed his nervousness, Africa felt immense favour for him.

"Well," she began lightly, smoothing the bay’s ruffled composure with bristly grey lips and a tender-hearted gaze, "Why don’t you settle yourself into the cave for now, meet those around you- especially those winged like Midas and myself." Africa turned easily to offer the standing stallion a thoughtful smile- few without formed the Throat’s ranks. Marco was still young, and her own heart certainly did not throb with the burning desire to spar and bruise like she had discovered many of their army’s did. The time would come soon enough for him to strike out and make for himself a worthy reputation amongst their kin. She would watch out for him closely until that urge stirred his spirit to life.

"I will tell you after you have rested, all about our home... (she chuckled, which was an unusual feat nowadays) ...Dragon’s Throat, not this cave. There is much for a young soldier to learn before he wields his first sword." Silas dropped suddenly from the canopy where he and Fina had been perched- not too closely, and landed with a considerate grip upon the silky waist of his beloved. With claws snagging all the while on the flimsy cloth, he skipped towards her shoulders, reaching through the tangle of her sweat-damp mane for a chain. When it was found, she rocked to release the small amulet from the compression of her fleshy grey breast and the young Zephyr dragged it with some effort to pull clear of her face.

Balancing with widespread white-glittered wings upon the very peak of her crest, he fluttered upwards and away to where he had been; but not before dropping the necklace in the mossy mat by her curled forelimbs. "This amulet will keep you from harm. I can’t tell you if magic ails this world right now, but if it does the warding powers within will activate at the command of your thoughts. It is an Earth Amulet, a gift to Helovians from the majestic God of Earth and Water." Africa paused to take a lengthy breath; to smile at Marco and nod with selfless reasoning towards her king. "It will absorb ill-meaning magic that is cast at you, before shattering away." She had learned much since Midas had greeted her return to their home, and the one-winged mare knew too that the trinket would aid the aspiring boy in battle should the need to fight come faster than preferred. Africa did not mention this though- instead adding, "Midas here crafted its beautiful gold chain."

With meticulous care and touch as delicate as a mother’s first nuzzle of her newborn, the mare took a moment to drape the Amulet around the boy’s own skull, drawing it slowly done the length of his unruly mane, until the intricate chain was settled about his throat and shoulders. Then she released the careful clasp of teeth, and let the pendant fall, sliding as it might around to the chest of its young new holder.

Africa
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#10

If I’d known how high I sat on some strange intangible pedestal my frame likely would have ended up sprawled out across the tropical musky floor as a roaring fire bellowing laughter, trembling each rigidly trained tendon until the porcelain cracks in my soul broke forth and tears flew free. I was no mythical creature, no god, nor hero. Nay, had I been able to peer behind the recesses of cartilage and bone—I’d likely shamed their thoughts of me with mindless humor.

The young newcomer was slow to answer at first, I waited patiently for his pause to form a complete sentence. When the lad answered with enthusiastic note and shy laugh my crown nodded, not as deeply as before but still a noticeable acknowledgement to his words and the approval of them. Africa spoke again, and it seemed to me that she was very nearly fawning over the youth; as a mother might a gangly wide eyed child. Ma traits that served her position as Oracle very well. Fina spared a disinterested glance toward Silas, with a sliver of gore hanging between clamped jaws. When he dropped away, she audibly clicked then went back to ravaging the kill once more.

Africa then did something rather unique, something that pricked my heart and crumbled the smile upon my face for a split second when the memory of Cera came blazing forward. I’d given him an amulet of protection, in a very similar fashion that she now blessed Marco with. The Oracle gave away her mythical pendant, filled with a drop of Earth blood likely without a thought toward personal need. My gaze lingered on them without seeing the two as they were, softening as thoughts ran past to place myself in her image and Cera in Marco’s. I could almost smell the warm husk of his pelt, silken smooth and tanned by the sun…In a flash my face once again relaxed back into its previous facade of warmth and compassion, likely avoiding their detection by the swiftness of recovery and their own distraction with each other.

Our colours come alive when I collide with you
with you, with you
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Marco Posts: N/A
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#11

Marco
I've traveled all this way for something




Time. It was all about the time between conversing equines and sometimes a pause or hasty reply offered some evidence in behavior. Other times, it felt like an experiment on how much one's patience could run before its damp surface shriveled up. Sometimes silence was an appropriate answer to "reply" with to others. It all depended on the situation as I often chose the silent route unless address. Quite unusual! I was normally meddling into affairs with my boisterous voice, peeving the adults, as I was told in each mild scolding. Surprisingly, I had remain quiet beneath a sky where there was no apparent sight of the radiant light housed with the sky and its fluffy, cotton of clouds. Assumption placed blame upon the awe of the cave.

I craned my head to maintain eye contact when Africa's reply rang and ricocheted off rocky walls. The frown that etched itself on my face was habitual for the usual scolding for my bold behavior, but the expression was temporary as her reply was different than the one playing out in my mind. My thoughts fell upon the peculiar features all four creatures (yes, I include the Zephyr-birds) and the mention of wings. They all shared wings which reminded me of birds - Africa and Midas being the ones graced with over-sized bird ones attached to their body. Chestnut orbs gradually drifted towards my own shoulder blades where nothing fancy stood out besides sweat and dirt collected on my coat. Which, I doubt, were worthy of mesmerizing attention. In spite of a difference, it was a silly idea of comparing when I never appreciated that thought in the long run. After all, I wasn't suppose to be in need of a mother, but the compassion given to me made a sudden return.

I wondered then. The king queried over the idea of battle. The word filled itself with an ancient, energizing feeling within my breast. Would I make them proud if I join? Irises rose to notice a hint of a more fainter nod at my recent reply. Approving, hopefully.

The winged mother had yet to finish her words, and the words "Dragon's Throat" had pulled me back into a full-fledged attention upon her. Some embarrassment unfolded as I begun to realize I had referred to my herd's name with the wrong words. I cocked my head as I listened; hearing "soldier and sword." What would make a good soldier from a boy like me? As much as I wanted to question all the details, I was still lost upon the name's origin. Surely one teensy-weensy question couldn't hurt? "Why is it called Dragon's Throat?" I questioned innocently. More importantly, what was a dragon?

Silas's movement nearly frightened me with genuine surprise. He moved all too quickly for me to grasp what he was trying to do until he approached closer to his companion, and he pulled some sort of string - with Africa's help - off of her neck before it made a full appearance. I stared stupidly at the necklace, but at the same time, it was too pretty not to admire.

Pretty, I mused. Openly, I gaped at the description of an Earth Amulet. If magic truly existed like winged equines do then I must be asleep in my former land with a wild fantasy. I smiled in response to Africa's own; a little goofy in my trademark way, but it was mostly due to the shock of what had just happened. The shock wasn't enough to temporarily bind my eyesight to another world as a trust vision recalled the present: of tenderness in appointing the amulet its new owner, feeling the weight settle around my shoulders, it was there alright. I half-expected some sort of magical bind to indicate the new ownership, but I didn't feel anything exciting besides a tingly one all over.

There were many words which threatened to spill in a jumbled mess towards her. Many questions on why, and gratitude spoken in various ways. Yet none succeeded in escaping my jaw until I decided to experiment with my speech on another topic as I finally said, "King Midas did a beautiful job!"

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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
#12
It mattered little whether the colt’s ambition matured into the strength and courage of a soldier. Africa knew well that it took a selection of nature’s finest beings; of those built soundly, with resilient minds, and the most unimaginable resolve, to flesh out an army. She was none of those things; quite the opposite in fact, and only time would tell which side of the spectrum young Marco would fall to. If not a warrior by heart, she would guide and support him readily through any other endeavour he set himself to achieve (a mentor, and friend through and through). The warmth of his body nestled against the rib-lined bulge of her barrel, filled her with calm; she could not explain the sensation, the euphoria as anything less than nurturing by nature- she was pleased that he was so cooperative, so willing to allow her fuss.

His quietly curious voice rose again around them, a question that Africa had deliberated over many a night by the fire she had once tended to passionately. Gentle eyes lifted towards the canopy beyond the guilt stallion in their company; minute leaves shimmered delicately through a shroud of mild mist, and the placid gurgle of the stream coiling through the ghostly underworld forest, seemed to offer to their waltz a magical rhythm. A harmony unseen and unfelt by lives too loud existed throughout Helovia- from the ancient groan of Threshold pines, to the shifting sands of the southern desert peninsula; and the one-winged mare felt an uncanny connection to it, an unfathomable desire to learn beyond the realms of what only the naked senses could reach. She did not answer Marco’s question right away though, instead Silas had come upon them. When the colt’s small figure jumped with surprise, Africa swiftly touched her muzzle against him to soothe away any nervousness- the Zephyr meant no harm after all. The gift was bequeathed, and she could only smile brightly between her painted friend and the bay boy; his praise for Midas’ handiwork a welcome gesture. Then, when silence began to douse the ring of voices Africa turned slowly with a curled neck to look upon the youth.

"It has been a long day. Rest now Marco and I will colour your dreams." Whiskered lips fondled affectionately the veil of his messy black forelock, brushing them from the boy’s thick lashes and to one side of his ashen forehead. There was comfort and safety in this network of tunnels and chambers, and when he woke again next, there would be much exploring to be done- certainly Africa would be available should he seek her company for anything more, but he was no foal, and her intention was not to smother his independence.

She began... truth cloaked in the wild fantasy of a creative mind. "Long ago Dragons far larger than any of those companions you will find around our country today, fashioned the population to do their bidding. Fierce, materialistic and cunning, these primordial beings were clad in thick scale armour, not easily pierced without the aid of magic; and their lungs hurled great scorching infernos at the foolish uprisings who opposed. Though few in numbers, their presence in Helovia was feared terribly and one Dragon in particular, Urulóki declared his nest to be the southernmost island of the land- a wild forest girt by sea.

That was where the infamous battle of Dragon’s Throat took place and the reason for its name today.

Back then, no desert wilderness scarred the beautiful landscape. Battle after battle took place, each revolt against the villainous ruling of Urulóki burning away more lush forest; staining the earth red with blood spilt in vain. The folk of Helovia were bold though, and concocted constantly new weapons and magic’s- poisons, self-wielding swords and the like, to bring forth and challenge the fire-breathing serpent with. On one such occasion, their fury and determination was so enormous that Urulóki was at last brought down upon his knees and slain... but not without grave consequence.

With the last breath of life, the Dragon purged an almighty fire that destroyed the island’s beauty- turned the trees to ash and dried the surrounding ocean for miles. That is how both the desert, and the peninsula it rests upon came to be. A small portion of land exists still as a lush, oasis right in the very centre of the region- that was where Urulóki had stood those final hours. It is said that the vast lake there is his very throat, and all which remain of his wicked existence. Fable suggests that when a Dragon’s body is robbed of life, it dissolves into the thing the creature fears most- water. And the burnt red-gold sands surrounding were once buried beneath ocean currents.

One tree withstood the fury of that fire- the Dragon’s Blood Tree... and its relic still stands to this day, weeping blood in place of sap for the many lives lost during its long life; those bodies still lie deep beneath its roots."



[Note: Just finishing this thread I think now. I feel like everything that could be achieved in it has been. Happy to start/join another whenever you are ready Wylfen <3 Reply if you like, but this was Africa’s last post here.]

Africa
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#13

When he asked why Dragon’s Throat was called such, Africa soothed right into our story of old. I was treated to a rare memory that drew more pleasant remembrance when coupled with sorrow. She dipped into the tale, naturally and effortlessly. Fina even paused her meal, craning beak to oneside so that she might better absorb the rise and fall of each vocal. I said nothing, added nothing to those strung words of honor and death. She repeated a story that desert foals had been told past the ages, my own ma and da shared the legacy with me on quiet summer eves.

Lids slipped closed and I sighed softly, remembering now the sweet simplistic youth of old. She spun and spun on, carrying us to that fated day in a time when dragons had thrived and our race was yet young. Those had been the days before my grandda and grandma, back when our world was much simpler and magic, rare. Perhaps it was the death of such dragons that strengthened our own bodies, gave impressive gifts that caused earth to tremble when we passed, controlled the turning of weather and even the pattern of water.

When Africa finished my gaze remained closed and mind swam with visions of immense beauty, a scorched land restored by light, by life itself. Head had fallen toward the earth and limbs locked themselves tightly. The King of sand, as I would always be called from hence forth—had fallen to sleep like a babe tucked by his ma’s side. Sweetly and without troubles I sank into unconsciousness that she hadn’t offered, but was won all the same.
Our colours come alive when I collide with you
with you, with you
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Marco Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#14

Marco
I've traveled all this way for something




Nervousness melted away immediately after Silas's sudden appearance, and the lovely gift crafted so finely by a winged king as Midas caught my interest for the longest period of time. The gesture led to a loss of control as I continued to fawn over it briefly as a velvet muzzle reminded me not to fear. The king's own presence added to the positive warmth with an extra layer of protection curbing his own frets about defense in a new world.

If a soothing touch never would have existed, surely my heart would have hardened into a cold stone. I never knew what an actual heart looked like, but I had always associated the organ with the ability to feel. Now? I began to absorb all of the emotions naturally built into the story, but orally passed down in the lovely voice none other than Africa herself. I was immediately curious, and impulse drove into asking her rather than ask the king so he could interact. It was still beautiful, and guilt stashed itself away.

A few connections were made. So we were in Helovia. Dragons were creatures. Magic! The whole story was fodder for my keen ears; my attention focused intently upon the story. I constantly focused my attention upon words of the wise, and the adults more in their prime than I currently was. I conjured some images of Urulóki's appearance, but none of them felt right. I kept imagining the dragon as ferocious and destructive. The traits sounded apparent. However, there was low appreciation for those who caused destruction to the land, but that was ancient and I'm just a boy. At least a tree stood its ground in the end.

Sometimes I imagined myself there, drifting off into a fantasy-induced daydream where I was the one to witness the war. Urulóki would stand with scorching flames building in his breast - behind thick scales guarding his vulnerable flesh - while it would eventually erupt from his angular mouth and the world would be filled with fire and drenched in crimson stains upon the desolate lands. I was unfazed, invincible to his wrath, and every imagery stood out without a blissful sight to be seen. Dark and depressing was the land after the dragon was slain, and Helovia soon birthed Dragon's Throat.

I sunk too deep into my imagination to realize I had yet to see Africa had finished her story. My senses were slow to return, and I had to blink a few times to recall what reality looked like through the eyes of a vulnerable colt. There, the grey mare was close with warmth continuously radiating from her body, and the own regal aura from the winged king. Mesmerized, and won over, I nearly drifted back into a sleep filled with dreams. The adrenaline had stopped pumping long ago so I felt the aftereffects throbbing in my legs again. Was this how a dream was? Sometimes I mused when I was dreaming and when I was fully awake on Helovian soil where magic was possessed by my kin, and dragons breathed flames upon the land.
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Comments: Alright! An excellent end by the trio. I'm ready whenever you are, as well :D
"blah blah blah."





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