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Passing the time in the caves was a challenge. One could only pick so many fights before the appeal wore off. With everyone on edge, ready to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation, the role of instigator just wasn’t as fun. Moniz had always relished that niche, but while above ground it had earned her a certain mild infamy – thought of as something akin to an inconvenient swarm of biting flies - here in the caves, she was just one more tense, argumentative body amongst dozens of others. She wanted to be special again, damn it.
There is that well-known sinking feeling when you’re in a room with a million other bodies, chattering and going about their business, and you feel more alone than ever. You feel ever so small, like you’re constantly looking into a sea of faces and all you’re getting out of it is the sting of salt in your eyes. The uniquely painful solitude felt amidst the masses stabbed incessantly at Moniz’s hardened heart. She could not help that she was, at her core, a herd animal. She had been hard-wired to make connections and need others. It was nature’s way of pulling a practical joke on the mare who hated vulnerability and loathed relying on anyone but herself.
The pony did not want to think about why she felt sad. She ignored the feeling as long as she could. The distraction of the egg helped somewhat, and she mostly busied herself nuzzling it and rolling it warily from room to room, casting withering glares at anyone who dared threaten what had quickly become her most prized possession. Presently, she had rolled the rusty little orb back into the main cavern of the Sanctuary, where she could appreciate the relative vastness of that particular room. Absent-mindedly, she tapped the stony ground with her left hind hoof, letting the hollow drumming and the low, almost-inaudible churn of lava keep her company. She stood guard behind a cluster of stalagmites surrounding the wall of flowing lava, letting the heat warm herself and the egg that rested in a divot between herself and the wall, and contemplating just how loathsome it was to be unable to make anything happen down here.
@[Tyradon]
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CREDIT: personal photography
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE |
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Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath
Snow |
He wanders.
The cave structure is unfamiliar to him; he has been here for mere days, and does not yet know the ins and outs of the intricate caverns. He finds he dislikes the darkness, the claustraphobia of endless tunnels and passages; he craves the land above the ground, and has every intention of returning there once the wraiths are dealt with. He is not a rabbit, to cower in his burrow; he is proactive, fearless, and is simply spending his first few days acclimatising and finding his way around before he begins to set his plans into action.
Cynder soars above him, plumes of smoke emitting from her nostrils at regular intervals. She is frustrated, her mind a stream of images of open plains and forests - she hates being below-ground as much as he does, as she cannot properly stretch her wings without colliding with the ceiling. Her ever-burning tail helps light the warrior's path, and her sense of direction is far superior to his own. With her by his side, he knows there is no risk of getting lost and wandering here for the rest of his days. She flies ahead, checking around every bend in the tunnel to ensure the safety of her bonded - he appreciates her concern, but holds little fear of anything that hides in the shadows. Finally the cavern opens up, and the leviathan's cold gaze flickers around, taking in his surroundings. Stalagtites cling to the ceiling, and their floor-dwelling brethren rise up to meet them from the ground; lava fills the walls, and Tyradon can feel the heat even from over here. The open space makes a very pleasant change from the cramped confines of the tunnels, and the stallion ambles slowly into the centre, feeling Cynder's squeal of delight as she flies right up to the shadow-clad roof. This is the largest space the bonded pair have been in for days, and they both seize the advantage.
But the warmaster cannot relax; he feels exposed, and his massive skull swings to drink in his surroundings and search for threats. In the back of his mind he can hear a low, stacatto thud, that of a hoof drumming against the stone ground, and his ears pivot to devour the noise. His nostrils flare, seeking the aroma of whatever is in here with him, but in the absence of wind he can pick nothing up. She-horse, over here, comes Cynder's mental voice, her own superior eyesight easily finding the mare in the shadows. She performs an aerial loop, ending in her landing on her bonded's head, tail lifted carefully so it doesn't ignite his mane. She sends him images of a small mare by the lava-infused wall, and naturally the stallion begins to walk in that direction. His massive hooves make a series of clacks on the hard ground, almost mimicking the mare's own absent tap.
Eventually he sees her, and performs his usual mental assessment. She's small, more pony than horse, dark bay, and an equine; he seeks out any potential weaknessess to exploit, or strengths to avoid. He cannot see the egg in the wall behind her, and instead focuses his gaze on her face. "That tapping is damned annoying," he states, his baritone rumble of a voice echoing off the cave walls. On his head, Cynder leans her long neck down his face and sniffs eagerly at the mare - she can sense the presence of the egg, but says nothing to her bonded. Her claws tangle in his mane and she chirps happily as she begins to plait it, one yellow eye locked on the she-horse.
NO MATTER WHAT WE BREED, WE STILL ARE MADE OF GREED |
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The mighty rock formations that Moniz had sheltered herself and her egg behind provided some protection, but offered little assistance in the matter of keeping a lookout for trouble. Moniz was not in the habit of watching out and avoiding trouble: she created it or ran headfirst towards it when she sniffed it out. But some festering maternal instinct for the egg, combined with the bored agony of life below ground, had managed to turn the pony into a more reclusive creature. She just wasn’t very talented at this self-preservation lark. Then again, it doesn’t take any particular skill to hear the massive footsteps of the draft stallion as he approached.
Like thunder before lightning, Moniz heard him first: the dull thud vibrating in her ears long before the reddish flame floated into sight. Its glow illuminated a skull that struck the pony as absurdly large - how would you even hold your head up? - but the rest of him was quite equally massive. His tremendous dark body reflected all the firey tones surrounding them, presenting as impressive a picture as any of the twitchy beasts Moniz had encountered since her descent below ground. The eye-catching contrast of glistening green scales against the luminous lava backdrop completed the visual package, and it was a dazzling one.
Such an entrance seemed deserving of some grand, pompous introduction, but Moniz was pleasantly surprised by the brusque rebuke that he greeted her with. But she damn well wasn’t going to cede to him that easily: her innate proclivity for pushing buttons would never allow that. She gathered all of her 14.1 hands of horse flesh beneath herself, squaring her legs and staring up – way up – into the dark stallion’s eyes. Without a flicker of hesitation, she pointedly raised her hoof and smacked it against the ground with deliberate force. “A damned annoying sound for a damned annoying situation,” she droned smoothly, enunciating each syllable with the overcompensatory confidence so often employed by the physically small when they found themselves in the presence of a more massive specimen. “And who do I have the pleasure of annoying today?” It was such a transparent ploy to smooth over her physical insecurity, but Moniz had never been one for subtlety.
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CREDIT: personal photography
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE |
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Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath
Snow |
She stands up to him, and the beast cannot help but admire her balls, dwarfed as she is by his gargantuan body. Lesser animals would have squeaked their fear and cowered into the corner, hiding from the warbringer's colossal body and intimidating features. A grin twists the corner of his scarred muzzle as she deliberately and defiantly stomps her hoof once again. "Touche," he rumbles with a deep, chesty chuckle. She might be small, but she is no less fiesty for it - Tyradon tends to call that small man syndrome. Or, in this case, small woman syndrome. "My name is Tyradon, and this is Cynder." The green dragon chirps her greeting, still twisting the black titan's mane into some semblance of a plait. "And who might you be?" he asks, massive skull tilting in curiosity to eye her with that wolfish expression of his.
It is then that Cynder chooses to impart her knowledge of the mare's egg; she sends her bonded an image of the gem tucked away in a nook behind the woman, safe from Tyradon's eyes but not those of the war-dragon and her vastly superior senses. At the news, the stallion's brow lifts in curiosity. Given that she is equine, he naturally assumes her egg contains a dragon - he wonders what colour, whether it is royal gold or inferior white. He thinks of Confutatis and her two-tailed dog, but assumes they have no mental bond - with the racist superiority complex he possesses, he thinks only dragons have the mental fortitude to bond to equines. Other, lesser creatures cannot join their minds in such a way, nor can base animals like unicorns and pegasi.
It seems he has a lot to learn.
He cranes his neck, but still cannot see the egg to determine its colour. "Cynder tells me you are guarding an egg - congratulations, it is a high honour to be blessed with a dragon." Nieque himself had tamed the first dragon, and since then only a few select individuals had been blessed by such eternal companionship. In his mind, Cynder releases a shrill chuckle, continuing to tug gently on his mane and refusing to explain the reason behind her humour. Tyradon has no idea that his bonded can sense the heartbeat of the creature inside the egg, and knows it is most certainly not a dragon - but she finds it far more fun to withold this particular piece of information.
NO MATTER WHAT WE BREED, WE STILL ARE MADE OF GREED |
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Greeted with neither cowardice nor amusement, but quiet respect, Moniz found herself in an unfamiliar predicament. The tremendous stallion and his mythical beast made a mighty impressive pair, and although the pony never cared much for social hierarchy, this was altogether different. He was charming. He emanated an effortless dominance that Moniz immediately envied. Her gut wanted to spew insults at him, to call him a dumb brute and be done with it. But – damn him – the stallion took her frumpy little self seriously.
Introductions began. Moniz narrowed her dark, expressive eyes cautiously, distrusting not the stallion himself, but the uncomfortable feeling of engaging in an average conversation – one that doesn’t start with a smattering of blunt words before reaching the formalities. But before she can figure out how to respond, Tyradon’s expression changes from mild interest to high intrigue, a shift so obvious even Moniz could not miss it. His neck stretched towards the wall where her precious egg slumbered peacefully, and for the first time the pony shifted her stocky frame, moving her broad shoulders closer to the wall in a protective blocking gesture. With her thick winter coat, it was uncomfortably hot to keep her shoulder against the crystal wall, and she quickly felt her salty sweat begin oozing to the surface of that broad muscle.
Moniz herself knew little about the little rusty egg. She had found it by some fortuitous circumstance of lighting and decided it was hers, and she’d been unquestioningly nudging it across the caves’ stone floors since. Her care of it was instinctual and unrefined: she didn’t know why she had found it or why it mattered to her, but she had and it did, so here she was.
But now it made sense! Had she really found a dragon? She didn’t even know that they were born from eggs. She had – more correctly than she knew – assumed the egg was a normal bird’s egg that happened to roll into the caves; that taking care of it was something she toiled at because it was something to do in this otherwise empty underground world. But if it was a dragon, that would explain why she was so invested in it. Right?
She smiled broadly in response to the stallion’s compliment, her wariness giving way ever so easily under the weight of a few ego-stroking words. Her posture relaxed again and she exhaled the breath she had not realized she’d held. Her gaze shifted with newfound awe and interest to the green dragon, studying the strong, lean form of Cynder’s body and admiring the power evident in her small body. Silent for so long, Moniz’s words took her by surprise and escaped spontaneously in an unplanned, reverent breath, “I am Moniz. And thank you – I am a most honorable, deserving horse.” She boasted immodestly, without the faintest hint of irony in her deep voice, not knowing the false foundations of the lies she so earnestly endorsed. “You must be, too, to have been blessed with Cynder.”
The compliment felt heavy in her mouth, her tongue unused to producing genuine praise that she did not intend to use for manipulation. The novel feeling made her conclude awkwardly, and unsure what she was meant to do now, she hesitantly took a small step away from the wall, clearing a sight line for Tyradon to see her prize.
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CREDIT: personal photography
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE |
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Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath
Snow |
He notes how she protects the egg, like a mother hen - he can certainly sympathise with that. When he found Cynder's egg, he was so young he had been hardpressed to defend it, yet that hadn't stopped him from hovering over it like a curse and aiming coltish kicks at any who came near. Even the joy of being a sire does not come close to the sheer protectiveness over an egg, knowing that, whilst foals come and go, a dragon is for the rest of your life. His father had talked up the experience as well, claiming that Tyradon was blessed by Nieque, and that had only made the rash and naiive youngling even more possessive over his bounty. "You have no reason to fear - I'm not going to harm it. The more equines here armed with dragons, the better." It was the one thing that set them apart from the horned and winged abominations, the one thing they held over those other species, and it was valued like nothing else.
The day he learned that unicorns and pegasi could find companions too would likely give him an aneurysm.
He notes the mare's gaze shift to Cynder, who gleefully puffs herself up and preens. You're being vain, Tyradon mentally murmurs to his bonded, who simply sends him an image of himself admiring his reflection in a pond a few weeks ago, with a certain smug satisfaction. The leviathan snorts - likely a rather strange thing to witness to Moniz, who couldn't know they were conversing mentally - and responds; that was different, I was checking how my scar was healing. He can tell his dragon doesn't believe him, and she continues to stretch every muscle in her formidable body, batting her batlike wings and waving her flame-tail in a display of sheer delight in her own power. The mare's words cause another small smile to flicker across his tarnished muzzle. "You will do well with a dragon - they have no concept of modesty either." He casts a cheeky look over his shoulder to Cynder, who responds by dipping her tail so close to him that it almost sets his mane on fire.
He takes the woman's words as a compliment, as he has often assumed his natural strength and greatness had persuaded the great Nieque to give him the egg, instead of all other eager colts in Isilme. "Cynder and I have been together for nigh on eight years now. The bond...is inexplicable." Catlike, the war-dragon purrs. Tyradon's stony grey gaze snaps back to the small mare, watching as she steps away to display the egg. The colour of it implies a rust-coloured dragon, likely with scales of a muddy hue. He withdraws his gaze and turns it instead to the pony. "Tell me of yourself, Moniz. Are you new to Helovia?" He smells potential, somebody to draw towards his and Confutatis' cause.
NO MATTER WHAT WE BREED, WE STILL ARE MADE OF GREED |
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Moniz was quick to trust the charming pair, and Tyradon’s reassurance that he was no threat soothed her easily. She was immediately enrapt by the green dragon’s showy displays, lapping them up earnestly with rather openly envious eyes. She was already imagining her own dragon, gliding about her in effortless circles, swooping in to roost in the downy fur of her winter coat… they would be the best of friends, but more importantly, they would be so powerful. The innocently inferior egg remained stoic by her side, unaware of how dramatically quickly its unborn’s expectations were skyrocketing. Moniz was so distracted by the show that was being put on for her that Tyradon dissolved into the shadowy backdrop for several moments, and the pony did not notice the unusually extended silence. She startled visibly at the stallion’s voice, snapping out of her awed reverie with a jolt. She tried to brush the little jump off with a cool smile, determined to impress this mighty stallion and his delightful companion. “Well, there’s certainly no use in false modesty,” she crooned, stealing another overjoyed glance of Cynder as she bobbed her tail threateningly.
The pony listened intently as Tyradon shared more details about him and his bonded, nodding respectfully as she learned the length of their partnership. Goodness, no wonder they were so captivating – the sample of horses Moniz had met in the cave was heavily skewed towards the younger generation, but the quiet confidence of experience pulled her in. “I’m sure you’ve had some amazing experiences,” she praised him with a sweetness that came to her with difficulty. It is rather amazing how the right words said at the right time by the right speaker can turn even the crassest of mares into an eager-to-please puddle of a filly.
She did not want to tell him about herself; she did not want him to know the uninteresting nature of the many days she had lived. Ate, walked, fought a little, talked a lot… nothing special had ever transpired in her life. Before now, that is. But lying was something that even her presently mushy brain had no interest in, so she chose to answer his question vaguely and hoped to avoid being pressed for details. “I have been here for a season. Never lived up there, though,” she nodded her head upwards, indicating the sun-touched world they had been banished from. “You must be new though. You would have caught my attention before now. Why’d you come?” It was her hasty strategy at shifting the focus back to him, to get out of any tougher questions by practically begging him to answer her first and hopefully steer the conversation in a direction she could more easily manage.
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CREDIT: personal photography
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE |
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Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath
Snow |
Another rumbling chuckle escapes his jowls. "If you've got it, flaunt it, as they say." Cynder snickers in his mind - she certainly knows she's got it, and she is not shy about flaunting it. She revels in the mare's stares, continuing to preen and strut, her claws digging into Tyradon's thick back as she parades like a model on the catwalk. It seems to be a dragon trait, that they are vain and arrogant - his father's bonded gold was as narcissistic as they come, and her teachings had ensured the green grew up with an inflated sense of her own importance. She spreads an emerald wing and begins to groom the thin canvas, yellow eyes darting between the equine pair as she licks the dirt from her scales until they gleam like polished gems.
Moniz mentions amazing experiences, and for a moment there is a glimmer in the leviathan's eye as his mind is drawn back to the countless things he has done during his life. He certainly wouldn't call them all amazing, though. "Aye," he rumbles in agreement. The small mare explains that she has been in Helovia for a season, but that she has never lived above the ground. Tyradon does not know how she has coped - he is already suffering from being trapped down here, away from the sun and the trees. "I pray this darkness lifts soon. We are not designed to live below the ground, like rodents in our burrows." He almost shudders at the thought. He idly notes she seems unwilling to offer any further information; the stallion does not press the matter, content to talk about himself and try to bring the girl towards his way of thinking. "Cynder and I have been here for only a handful of days. We left our old home due to...certain circumstances." An image of that unicorn warlock flashes through his mind and one hoof idly paws at the ground, picturing the creature's skull beneath it, crushed to dust.
He snaps his gaze back to hers, his silver pupils level and emotionless. "In my old home, I was a king. Here, I plan to start again. Myself and a mare named Confutatis have a...mutual interest in gaining power in Helovia, and our regime is currently recruiting." He offers no further information - he is not a fool to spill his plans to any mildly interesting mare, on the off chance she has allegiances elsewhere. "Interested?" Cynder lifts her refined head from her grooming to watch Moniz's reaction with evident curiosity - she is as keen as her bonded to create their army and rise again.
NO MATTER WHAT WE BREED, WE STILL ARE MADE OF GREED |
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As the green scales glimmered in the warm lava light, Moniz listened while the behemoth mercifully allowed the discussion to circle back to himself. This was easier. Normally all too keen to talk about herself, she was a creature of the present and reflecting on her empty past both bored and disturbed her. Where had the time gone? How had so much time passed without anything real happening? She felt a knot of envy tighten around her chest; it was obvious Tyradon and Cynder had been places and done things. Her own inexperience was embarrassing, and she detested it. It was time to change.
The darkness of the caves proved to be her savior. It was the topic of conversation one could always fall back on here: instead of chatting about the weather, they could unpack this bizarre nightmare. Moniz remembered her own initial reluctance to climb below ground - how she'd promised herself it was temporary, that she'd just stir up some drama and be on her way again. But the way time froze down in the darkness was deceptive. Entire weeks could be lost, swallowed in mundane blackness.
Instead of saying all that, Moniz spat out the core of her feelings in typical brutally honest fashion. "It's pathetic." She snorted with disgust, lashing her tail against her side dismissively.
The vagueness of what Tyradon said next might have raised a quicker-witted mare’s concern, but Moniz heard only two words: king and power. A broad smile engulfed her small face. Interested? She was practically salivating at the prospect. But she managed to rein herself in enough to realize she could not agree to joining some unknown regime led by this stallion and some stranger named Confutatis. What if they were damned communists? That wouldn’t do at all. But if they sought absolute power, and Moniz could have a share in it through her participation… She tilted her head curiously before answering, “Very interested. Tell me, to what ends does the past and future king’s regime strive?” She could not prevent her coy flattery: power intoxicated her. She wanted to pretend Tyradon's answer to her question mattered, but her boundless grin betrayed her. If it gave her a chance to rise above the masses in her new homeland, she would commit herself to any cause.
Things are going to change.
The egg lay by her side in silent agreement.
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CREDIT: personal photography
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE |
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Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath
Snow |
He jerks his heavy skull in affirmation. Their proud species shouldn't be huddling beneath the ground - the unicorns and pegasi, yes, but not them. They were too noble, too coated in perfection to be forced to dwell like cattle alongside the lesser breeds. Cynder snorts her agreement, sending him an image of herself flying high above open fields and mountains; she feels like a caged beast here, trapped beneath hundreds of layers of rock and dirt. Like her bonded, she is a proud and noble creature who deserves more than to live down here like animals.
But that isn't what the beast wants to discuss. He sees a potential recruit here, in this fiery, fiesty little woman with the unhatched dragon, potential his and Confutatis' regime could unlock. "Simply put, we wish to rule, to usurp weak and unworthy leaders and replace them with ourselves until the entirety of Helovia is beneath our control. I also wish to purge these lands of the horned and winged, the abominations that infest it, and have a herd as it should be - made up of those like ourselves, purebloods. Confutatis...does not share this desire, and intends to include unicorns and pegasi in our quest for domination, but they will exist only to serve, to be dispensable." It is a shame, that the otherwise near-perfect mare and her kitsune companion do not share the leviathan's hatred of anything different; it is, however, a compromise he knows he must agree to. As long as the scum agree to bend the knee to him and not irritate him in any way, he will...tolerate them.
His gaze - which had glazed over as he spoke so passionately of his racism - shifts back to Moniz. He asks no further questions; his ears simply turn towards her, eager to hear her response and discover if he has his first recruit.
NO MATTER WHAT WE BREED, WE STILL ARE MADE OF GREED |
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The pony listened to Tyradon’s impassioned monologue with a quietly tilted ear, unable to ignore the thrill in his voice. Ruling, control, everything was off to a good start… then he veered sharply off into species superiority, and while not unsympathetic, Moniz felt quite lost. She was born in a far simpler land than Helovia: there were mares and stallions, fillies and colts. Some were bay and some were black, and a small handful were gray. They wandered in small groups, entwined in the drama of their own internal politics but oblivious to the infinite possibilities in this universe. Helovia had been a bit of a shock, with its wraiths and mythical beasts and untold secrets. Moniz had not really thought much about the dynamics between all these animals – everything was so skewed in the caves that it didn’t seem like a terribly useful endeavor. She didn’t like them, but she didn’t like most others.
But now, with the foggy glasses of hindsight bias firmly affixed to her skull, Moniz looked back over her various interactions with the winged and horned equines. They hadn’t seemed ‘dispensible’ as Tyradon put it, but they were plenty annoying and unworthy of any special respect. Sure, maybe he was right – maybe they were abominations. And pureblood… she liked the sound of that. That sounded special.
Moniz loved to be special.
Ultimately, Moniz decided she did not particularly care whether the beasts grovelling at her hooves had horns or wings or bare skulls – as long as she had some pitiful peasants to amuse her, she was happy. Of course, it was curious that the other mare, Confutatis, was not similarly aligned in her thinking about the other species. Moniz wondered what her stake in this scheme was, but she kept that question to herself. She could learn that soon enough. “Count me in,” She declared with finality and a proud smile.
OOC: I wanted to get this basically concluded before I’m away for these next few days, but if there’s anything else she needs to do or say IC-ly let me know and I’ll do it once I’m back. =) Yay!
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CREDIT: personal photography
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE |
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Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath
Snow |
That's fine! We can have another thread when you get back where he introduces her to Confutatis if you want C:
He watches her with thinly-veiled excitement, craving her reaction. Cynder, too, fixes one large yellow eye on the mare, head tilting as she scrutinises for any sign of response. Finally she speaks; an affirmation, and the stallion jerks his head, pleased. "Excellent." And it is - he feels a spasm of pride that his words alone have persuaded a mare, and a soon-to-be-bonded mare, no less, to join their cause. He knows not if she shares his racism, or his all-consuming desire to dominate, but she is a willing body and he has no reason to question her loyalty. Cynder trumpets her pleasure, taking off again and soaring up into the shadowy ceiling of the cavern, performing a complex display of aerial prowess to demonstrate her joy. She is as eager as he to see their regime succeed, to conquer as she was so used to during their previous years.
Tyradon watches her for a moment, amused, then looks back to Moniz. "I must go now, but I will seek you out in a couple of days and introduce you to Confutatis." His gargantuan form turns to leave, but before he does he arches his thick next to face her again, expression turning stern. "I will add that you must speak of our plans to nobody. If you discover somebody willing to join, send them to me and I will tell them what they need to know." They couldn't have new regime members spewing their plans around - for now, their secretiveness was their greatest weapon. A tongue of flame flies from Cynder's muzzle onto the shadowy wall above, a clear demonstration of what will happen to traitors.
With that, the beast offers Moniz a final nod, and takes himself back into the maze of caverns.
NO MATTER WHAT WE BREED, WE STILL ARE MADE OF GREED |
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