the Rift


A Blessing

Dusk Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1

dusk  
live by love though the stars walk backward

    When I fly off to Heaven I won't remember my first love. I won't remember by parents. I won't remember how many times I almost died. I won't remember the scorching fire that raged beyond my pupils and sang hot in my ears when I saw the world submit to darkness time and time again. Naught foul war, nor the decadence in a woman's fragrant hips, not even indulging in the scene of a single lotus flower upon the creek. Perpetua couldn't even catch my attention, it blew right by me. I have a feeling it will be the weary moments like these, where I see frost painted ravines by specked starlight and a golden moon just overhead - a defining night where I reflect all the hues of indigo and violet, ancestral stars burning right into my flesh - the night where I become part of the world again, appearing after a long lost vanishing act from smoky clouds of fate and beautiful reconcile that I see when the light blinds me. But I'll remember frosty wind whistling through my primal feathers, singing into my mane, when the night and I merge into one essence. One last time.

    I find a similar path from the clouds, hoofprints trace jaded pathways through the pallid blanket of fresh snow. I descend through gilded feathers, squealing faintly against the rush of cold draft, my breath marks the air. Starlit wings catch a final push of nighttime breeze and inky hooves press into winter's froth, so delicate, so quiet as not to disturb resting birds. I am the Nightingale, too polite to disturb such a fragile night. I fear it might break open before me like porcelain if I so much as whisper in its presence. Nature speaks for itself. So, quietly I gather wings at my sides, arcing starry neck to inhale the winter purity, smelling stale travelers, a well-marked highway of all kinds. These trees remind me of Isilme, the scents of husky vagabonds and the occasional perching duchess linger in their morning fog and I'm lost amongst them, happily at their direction as I offer a few steps onto the beaten path, so ready to lose this loneliness.


Nayati Posts: 116
Outcast
Mare :: Equine :: 14.3hh :: four years
Rathunax :: Common Red Dragon :: Shock Breath cailyn
#2

I know your wavering heart, intimately</style>


Soft voice is raised in lilting sighs and crescendos, a soft song pouring from pale ivory lips, gliding on airwaves to the accompaniment of dragon song. She hums when in need of breath, and laughs at the form of her hatchling gliding on new, unsteady wings above her. There is no hurry to her steps as she glides across the cold, compact ground. Behind her, flowers bloom, untouched and unaffected by the cold around her, magically inspired to spring forth as if winter is a thing of dreams. Color flows in a river behind her, leaving her mark on the world, a way to follow her if anyone ever desires to find her. Unlikely, for she is a lonely soul with few acquaintances. She has come to accept it, for with her soul tied with Rathunax's, she does not feel so alone anymore.

Her singing is clear and beautiful in the crisp, cold air. But it fades when Rathunax gives a soft noise, dragon song pausing to alert her, their vision switching so she may see from his view from above. The noise touches her ears moments later, unable to detect such fine noises as Rathunax, and the flutter of wings and the soft landing of a pegasus is distinguished. Her face is warm at the fact he may have heard her singing, but she is far more curious than embarrassed. Rathunax soars overhead to greet him before she may, even with her quickened step. Circling the gold and cocoa boy, he gave a soft 'ryuu' of contemplation, drawing it out on a serpent's tongue as he looks down upon him with ruby red eyes. There is a level of distrust in them, but it is disrupted by a soft harmonic laugh as Nayati ventures upon them.

Endless snowy locks, flowers trailing within the tresses to accompany the baubles given to her by the fairies, keep her warm in the chill of Frostfall as she views the newcomer with a sheepish look upon her delicate features. "Please, sir, excuse my companion. He is very protective, and as such rather distrustful," she giggled softly, somewhat embarrassed by his behavior. Rathunax huffs, soaring down to half-crash upon her shoulder, still not used to the landing. She turns her head and gently uses her muzzle to place him more firmly upon her, waiting until his claws are secured in her mane before moving closer to the poor fellow Rathunax had been circling like a vulture.

"My name is Nayati, and his is Rathunax. This is Helovia. May I know your name, good sir?" He is outrageously tall! She gasps unattractively in her head, wishing she were not so petite, staring up at him so disrespectfully as she must. If she may help him through the process of the Threshold, then she will, both to apologize for Rathunax's actions and because she simply liked to help people. She remembered how scared she'd been when she'd collapsed bleeding and on the verge of crossing to the other side of life when she'd first arrived.


the rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but they also loved the dark, 
where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. the roses said: you do not have to choose. 

Dusk Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#3

dusk  
live by love though the stars walk backward

    I'm cased by the cold. The fingers of it wrap around me from behind digging into every cranny of every hair, on skin that puckers to protect blood vessels. A thief it was. It stole the breath from my lungs, the air was beautiful. Crystalline. As if I was exhaling snow. The beauty of it almost let me forget the numbness I felt in my hooves, that were shocked by the impact of landing — the feeling that is like needles through sole. I shook it off, letting go of the shivers, ordinarily, as though my heart could thaw frost.

    I don't want to think about winter as the burglar who steals warmth. But as much as I could tell myself to embrace him, cradle him like everyone wishes they could cradle the homeless, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't. This was an unforgivable act. Had it been wished upon me? As I stepped into the world, inevitably, this winter robbed my identity. It evaporated like snow to steam and my colors, the reflection of heavenly stars, ascended from my flesh. It happened in a flash, as though the last step I took into the trees was the entrance to a new reality. My eyes followed the mist into the sky, until I saw them merge to the stars. The colors only dusk could own, slipped back into the crannies of cold feathers, itching coat. I dressed back into my day skin; it's like sleeping in jeans. I glared at the sky with envious green. I unfurled my feathers. I let myself curse. This place, this winter just stole my skin.

    It is easy to deceive an optimist. It is easy to beguile those to the grasp of beauty and devour them entirely.

    I look back over my shoulder to see that buckskin plume replaced inky sky, and then to where I had come from. Was someone trying to tell me something? Did someone want to mess around, at this time of night? I felt the blood drain away from my face, it seemed like every other limb became numb at the same time. I took one step forward, into this hostile land and addressed the bare pines, the light snowfall that looked more innocent than a jury, "What are you?"

    It almost surprised me that someone didn't answer. I sighed; let breath snatch away into cold air.

    I quietly asked, "what else can I give you?" chuckled, and stepped into the bare winter.

    There was something about surrender that gave good riddance. My shoulders swung low, nose tickling the snow like a hound in search for a suspect. If I couldn't live in my own skin, I'd have to find someone else's. Surely there would be some other kind of fantastical occurrence. Sensitive ears caught the familiar sound of flapping wings overhead. I rolled eyes upward, green irises chased down the ruby glint that circled above like a starving vulture. It wore beady eyes that traced me as though I was a foe. Was this the work of that crimson nuisance? It had been a long time since I'd met a dragon like this one. They were common throughout my birthplace, speaking from the souls of those without wings. It was interesting that such a place could share the same fauna. Though Isilme was treacherous, it never dare steal the identity. The stretches of my mind sought out Sephagus, and sent him a small prayer. I had an unconscious looming, a vague distrust, in whatever was around the corner of knotted tree limbs.

    But I'm amazed by what I see. She is pallid as the banks around and frothy like a cloud, the earth adorns her in leopard spots. Night ellipses her details, but my eyes adjust to her features. She laughs harmonically, and my ears catch the hopeful sound. I'm glad she wasn't the typical type that wore red-eyes, though I full-hardheartedly expected a horse that grew spikes instead of flowers. With relief, I smiled back to her and then to the gilded Rathunax that landed in her mane.

    "Please, sir, excuse my companion. He is very protective, and as such rather distrustful."

    I didn't expect any of this, honestly. I laughed in coincidence while she laughed in shyness. This was utterly ridiculous. My daytime appearance becomes my night, a small flower-girl bears a fearsome weapon, and now what? Everything here proved contradictory.

    "My name is Nayati, and his is Rathunax. This is Helovia. May I know your name, good sir?"

    Suddenly, as soon as the last word exited her mouth, I remembered. Vast archaic ruins spread across the time of racism and unwise Gods; raspy voice after birth, hoarse mother who'd given two twins to the world, the father who licked me clean. All of it revealed through the slight snow, the clear words. The Gateway, marking the dawn of Isilme's darkness, welcoming lords who turned the world black and bore magic on their sleeves. The crash and the burn. The hope and the doubt. It was so long ago, what a desolate memory. Was every land going to be like that? Was this all of my life?

    She gave me a good question. Who was I? The proper question would have been: 'What was I?' Without the night on my back, I wasn't sure. I gazed at her with questioning eyes, feeling around for some much needed help before finally muttering, "Dusk," through feeble lips. I remembered people who thought I was kidding. But the tragedy of being called Dusk was all that I could never explain.


Nayati Posts: 116
Outcast
Mare :: Equine :: 14.3hh :: four years
Rathunax :: Common Red Dragon :: Shock Breath cailyn
#4

I know your wavering heart, intimately</style>


Wary features turn skyward towards Rathunax, the bonded soul sighing at his behavior, so prominent once more. It kept others away, kept her lonely. A soft, hurt sound came from the dracon circling high above the pegasus wandering the mists of the forests. Her sincerity hurt, sometimes, but so long as it barred her companion from chasing off and intimidating away those she could potentially befriend, she would continue to speak it. The world in his eyes became hers as she approached, shifting from spectator to actress, drawing their eyes into one solid world.

As she rounds the obstacles in her path their eyes meet, brief and instant in the way they judged one another. Not in any particularly bad way, merely awareness of the other. He seems both startled and distrustful, but it does nothing to dwindle the petal-soft smile on her lips, the entreating glow of her rubies. All she desires is to welcome and inform him, bring him into her circle of acquaintanceship and possibly, hopefully, bring a tentative light into the darkness of her soul that created so much loneliness as it festered inside of her. Perhaps selfish, in a way, but solitude could drive even the most selfless to lengths they did not recognize.

A smile is what meets the lilt of her laugh, the cloud of ivory and ice that clings to her maw like static warming her ace in the oddest of appearances. From him she inspired tones of amusement, the two of them sharing in the sound for far different reasons, but neither borne of ill meaning. He watches her silent and inquisitive, but her gaze is merely encouraging, for she cannot find nor speak the answers for him. Moments later, he speaks, a singular word she nearly mistakes before realizing with a dawning of knowledge that it is his name. She smiles and tilts her head at him, wishing his secrets could unravel before her the longer she looked into his form.

"The darker stage of twilight...transitional. Caught between the darkest and the birth of light. It's a beautiful name," she spoke softly, the warmth of her smile bleeding like crushed rose petals into each lyric she bestowed upon him. Turning, she smiled and inclined her head to invite him to walk alongside her. "Would you like to accompany me, Dusk? It is lonely at times, traversing these woods. Perhaps you have questions I can answer?" One tentative step is taken, snow white shocking against the dead and dying of the earth below.

@[Dusk]


the rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but they also loved the dark, 
where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. the roses said: you do not have to choose. 


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