| Dragon's Throat Warrior atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2 hands :: 6 years :: Orangemoon HP: 65.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Valda |
With cleft hooves planted stolidly on soil, she was a soldier, with voltaic eyes and tousled locks of starless nights; with infinite wings outspread, she was a mournful dancer, balletic queen whose presence sang and sparkled with all the feral beauty of electricity. Even when she stood, grounded, she dreamed of the sky, envisioned feral storms that roared in her ears and played with her as a cat did mouse, and other skies too, more tame heavens: robin-egg blue, and spring silver, clouds laden with rain that hovered, omnipresent, awaiting the chance to shed tears.
As efforts became futile for reuniting her with family, she lingered by the gateway to the earth. Sometimes, if the right breeze came by, she could smell the fresh air, taste the frigid cold, and her heart gave an excited flutter- before she remembered out there was death waiting to steal the lives of those fool enough to venture alone. But the Ardent's daughter lacked in the sweet patience of the elderly (leave them to their virtuous restraint! She would not allow herself to be afraid of a little darkness) and convinced herself: yes, she could at least spread her wings, surely no wraiths could fly?
Correct or incorrect she might've been, but as she slid free from the grim clutches of the heart caves, she found herself confronted with a blessing. Light, dim and sullen, but a sky not just darkness.
The laughter sang up from between the cage of her teeth, and there she held it, unwilling to let it go even when it so rudely demanded freedom.
Wings unfurled.
And she leapt into the greasy gray sky, winging upwards, at last feeling the wind caressing her tangled mane and breezing by her ears and whispering through her primaries. Here in the gilded light of the sun, soaring in the endless vault of the sky, was where she was meant to be. Not locked away beneath the earth, ancient relic to grow dusty, to age, all without seeing the light of day again, but here and now, with the winter air filling up her lungs and burning in her eyes. To the west she goes, to scent brine and salt, seaweed and sand; to remind her of home in a dragon's throat. azulee
the grave looks cold, but we're still young
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image by lunarblues | table by phantom
hard mode—HP: 65/65
physical force and magic is permitted to be used on Azulee at any time provided it does not involve powerplay (unless specified otherwise); please contact me before attempting to kill.
please tag me!
| Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15.3 :: 9 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE |
| redgod |
DALIBOR
I am someone to hate
Discovering that remaining in the caves with everyone else would only drive him insane, Dalibor decided he’d risk whatever this infection was and take to the surface again. Surely only the weak were infected, those who did not know how to fight, to fend for themselves. He was a warrior. He would come out of this just like he had every other battle: alive.
So he ascended, as a Pegasus should, to the top of the earth; no winged creature should be under the ground. Not unless he was dead. The air was cold and tasted of ash and bitterness, though he saw no signs of a fire. Some pervasive miasma from the infection that plagued the land, perhaps. Maybe this was how the infection started, breathing it into your lungs from the putrid ground?
The stallion knew he was ignorant of this spreading sickness and realized that maybe his irritation with others was unfounded. Maybe they knew the only safe way to remain normal was to remain underground where the air wasn’t tainted. But the caves were open to the outside…the air was not special down there either. Still, each breath tasted foul and Dalibor wished to be on this earth no longer.
So he left it. A quick trot brought him into a powerful takeoff, wings flapping with force to lift his compact but muscular frame into the air. His altitude increased quickly; surely the air up here wasn’t polluted like the rest? A hungry gulp confirmed this hypothesis and Dalibor breathed easier, feeling less…threatened by this unseen enemy. The air currents carried him toward the sea, and a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision caught his hawkish eyes. Another Pegasus?
Tilting his wings to take him towards this newfound being, Dalibor came within a cautious distance. “Your name!” he called out, not a greeting, but a demand. He was a suspicious sort at first.
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| Dragon's Throat Warrior atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2 hands :: 6 years :: Orangemoon HP: 65.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Valda |
Sunlight glittered and glared off the raging ocean below; the bright waves, shattering the light over sapphire and azure, stormed with an incomparable power. She would not want to be down there fighting it, with it's cold wet mouth and dripping hands, foamy lips and heaving chest; in any case, how could one battle the sea? It was vast, unknowably vast, and it hid whole worlds away, countries separate and far from Helovia and Isilme— she wondered, what would it be like if she could plunge into those depths, dive below the surface and explore the endless shades of navy, emerald and turquoise? But why would she do that, when she has the entire sky to adventure through, with a landscape shaped with clouds and invisible winds that would as soon snatch her away as return her home? And I would have to have gills instead of wings!
The Ardent's daughter smiles.
There is nothing like a brisk flight to make her grin.
Endless wings shift, infinitely small movements done to primary and secondary to scoop the wind beneath her, to rest herself on a bed made of air; her leonine tail rudders, as she pivots around a wing-tip, the beach spread out below her. Ebon appendages lift, tips flaring together before she downstrokes, powering upwards, ever-higher, a bird on the thermals above the sea— yet where one seagull flocks, others follow. On the horizon line, making way from inland, is rust and shadow, scarlet and cream; the silhouette marks him- or perhaps her- as undeniably pegasus. Wings beat, driving her forward, moving to meet him, to share in this beautiful day; to laugh and smile and grin.
As she approaches, his voice shouts out, carrying over turbulence and wild sky, sharp in her ears, a demand of her. Ears pin to neck; she lets the wind, behind her, carry her forwards, pulling up and away from him when she reaches twenty or twenty-five meters ahead of him. Wheeling above him, dark as shadow against the wide, wide yonder, she shouts out her answer; "Eeluza!" It's a lie, a little one, simply her name backwards, but why should she share in her title when he screams out so rude?
azulee
the grave looks cold, but we're still young
|
image by lunarblues | table by phantom
hard mode—HP: 65/65
physical force and magic is permitted to be used on Azulee at any time provided it does not involve powerplay (unless specified otherwise); please contact me before attempting to kill.
please tag me!
| Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15.3 :: 9 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE |
| redgod |
DALIBOR
I am someone to hate
The closer he approached, the more he studied this fellow flying equine, still as of yet unable to tell if male or female. Bodies were such tricky things among their kind...
Dalibor's demand for a name was met with a feminine voice. That answered one question. Eeluza. That reminded him of elusive. He didn't necessarily like that. Sometimes names were purposeful...still. He wasn't the superstitious type before and he wouldn't start now. Flaring his wings out and giving them a vicious beat, Dalibor shot upwards to match this mare's altitude, not about to let her have the sun as an ally if she chose to attack.
This Eeluza had neglected to inquire as to his name, so he neglected to share it with her. Dalibor cruised easily beside her now, hawkish eyes roving over her form. He liked her coloring, but noted her wings were fucking massive.
Shit.
Now that he was level with her, he saw her eyes were an electric blue, which he also approved of. "Where are you from?" the male inquired, his voice no longer carrying the accusatory demand; his question was asked of curiosity. She was the second pegasus he had met since arriving in Helovia and he wondered if all pegasi lived in the same area.
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