the Rift


[OPEN] Wake me up into this nightmare.

Paladin the Valiant Posts: 153
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 15 Years Buff: DANCE
Tamme
#1


PALADIN
The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head


[[Paladin is walking around the OUTSIDE of the cave entrance for your convenience - please heal him :( so that he can fall apart in a puddle of misery. ]]


The dark wraith, covered in the blood of his dead lover, walked through the fields unfeeling. A veil of night hid the sun and blended with his black and crimson form. A sinister grin was spread on his pale lips, revealing serrated teeth. The disease had done more good for his body than it had harmed. Where white hairs from scars had once littered his arthritic joints, the fur was smooth, glossy and raven black. All of the pain and inflammation in his body was gone, and he felt alive again.

As alive as this disease could make him at least. The trade-off as a madness, deep and dark. The compassionate soul was replaced by the monster who had always lived deep inside - the monster he tried so hard to keep hidden. Being a wraith amplified this side of him to the point where all other light and choices were buried so deep that he could not pull himself out. As he watched himself in the third person, he thought he was stuck in a horrible nightmare, experiencing someone else controlling his body.

Every step his hooves took was exciting, the hum of the winter breeze urging his beating heart faster. The thrill of his kill brought a blood lust to his mind, eager to battle another, eager for more blood. He wanted a battle. He listened to the wars of his youth rage in his mind, the shouts of his father on the battle field and the cries of pain and agony like a symphony. The voices of warriors and deathly screams coming together in beautiful harmony, a music fit for his soul played around him, enveloping him deeper into madness.

Paladin licked the blood from his lips and his eyes rolled with pleasure, his steps quickening through the fields toward the center of fire. He would dance around these flames, darkness bared to the world. The sacrifices he would offer would burn to delight the gods.





Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#2
OOC: Hope it's okay to post him here! I should really not be taking on more threads but omg the tempts xD



t y r a d o n

FIRE AND BLOOD!

He smells disease.

He doesn't know what brought him to the caves - after spending weeks trapped down there, he relished every moment he spent out in the open air. Perhaps it was his primal craving for the darkness and solitude of the caverns - either way, he finds himself wandering them without purpose, until his nostrils are invaded with the reek of rotting flesh and death. Cynder smells it too, and a high-pitched whine pours from her lips, her mental confusion minging with Tyradon's. Calm, Cynder, he says, voice soothing as he caresses her mind.

He moves towards the cave entrance, massive frame held tense in preparation for battle. Nobody who reeks of death can possibly be good news, so he is naturally wary as the light pricks his eyes and he sees a ghastly figure stood in the open mouth of the caverns. He sees a horn and his stomach turns, ears naturally flattening - he smells blood, and revulsion rises in him at the notion that it could be equine. But, as he gets closer, his heart skips a beat as he realises that he recognises the broken figure outside, coated in blood that cannot be his own; silver eyes widen, a mingled expression of horror and disgust flexing across his stern features.

It's him.

His mother's lover - her horned whore, putrid warmer of her bed and loins, sire of her mongrel children. But he's diseased, not the masculine, almost virile figure that haunts Tyradon's nightmares from their meeting in his youth. Cynder rises onto her hindlegs and screams, flame pouring from her nostrils as she bugles her disgust and fear to the heavens. "Broken body, broken mind," she tells her bonded, wings flexing and back claws rasping into his flesh. He pauses just inside the cave, muscles tense in preparation to fight if the elderly stallion made a move to attack. "Paladin?" he rumbles, ears hovering inches from his massive skull, halfway towards pinning them. "The hell happened to you?" Soleil told him not to search for him, but it seems luck - or lack of - is on his side.


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Tandavi The Fire Dancer Posts: 245
World's Edge Nurse atk: 6.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Natraj :: Plain Kitsune :: Fire Charks
#3

Fire dancer kicks despondent at the ash, steps sending spirals of dusky grey into the murky sky. She does not dance, cannot remember the last time she did; when Amaris was here, perhaps, or earlier, before her mother forgot her and she was cast away. Certainly while Natraj was by her side, his small steps mirroring her bold gold strides, his energy and laughter bright against her passionate reserve. Without him she is a candle free of wax, a falling crimson leaf that collapses without wind, a despondent, dirty filly floating purposelessly outside the caves, black eyes dull with too much age, too much despair.

She doesn't stray far from the caves, too weary and too wary to venture out into the world. Shallow breaths scarcely fill her lungs; her hooves drag uneasy lines in the sand as ears hang back, inattentive and disinterested in the world at large. Why does she bother going out, day after day, hoping against hope that the day will come? Why does she lurk on the sidelines, long for the sun she knows will never rise, ache for the family that has left her behind? Why does she care? Why doesn't she care? She knew the reason once, but days have passed and she begins to wonder, emptiness and teenage angst warring darkly in the twist of her soul.

She smells the wraith before she sees him. He stinks of blood, and rot, and vacant threat, disease and madness and underneath, something sickeningly familiar. Around a bend and behind a stone, her pace picks up into something joltingly mechanic, driven by a need, a twinged memory of purpose. Against her skin Lena's magic sparks, healing welling in her throat, threatening to burst into uncontrollable noise, and she wonders suddenly- can she fix him? That is why she's here, after all: to heal, to help, to risk herself for the sake of others. It's why she lurks outside the caves, why she has shunned the others around. A corner is turned, faster now, and the girl stops short in a cloud of ash, swallowing hard against the horrid sight.

Two black stallions, one whole and one not, loom dangerously in the girl's sight. One is broken, murderous, cruel, and the other diseased and grinning his rage; she sees this suddenly, her dark eyes wide, bright with the glow of the dragon's fire. Paladin, the name rings a distant chord, and she knows the other scent he carries so fate. So this is her herdmate brought low and broken, another of the Edge cast into the dark.

For a moment the girl debates turning in flight. The monsters seem occupied with one another, and perhaps have not noticed the light of her hair and faltering step. She could slip away, vanish from this certain doom... but she was no coward. Not anymore. She could not leave them here, as she had left Lace, could not acknowledge the shudders of her fear and the dread in her heart. Again she swallows, eyes darting from the broken unicorn to the black equine, wishing she were beside that dragon fire instead of at a right angle to it. It would be nice to have flame on her side.

"Paladin." The faltering note of the girl's voice hangs uncertain in the air, a hesitant song that the darkness mocks. She clears her throat, ears twitching uneasily. Lena had sung so bright and easy, but in Tandavi's throat the magic rebels, dances and fights and comes out a whisper. "Paladin," she sings again, lingering on the final n, drawing it into a hopeful hum, a promise of peace if only he hears. She hopes the other stallion will guard her back, that her foolish quest will not end in her blood, bot that hope is distant in the rush of magic that fills her ears, the overwhelming focus on power and health. Unaware, she shuts her eyes, letting the sound fill her, letting herself go, praying for his wellness while a tiny voice in her ear screams at her to thinkaboutwhatyou'redoingWHATAREYOUDOINGRUN!



THE FIREDANCER
for it was I who walked among the falling stars, and did not burn
credit | credit

o. pixel pony credit to tamme
o. permission granted to use force and magic on Tavi
o. only tag me in opening posts, please!


Paladin the Valiant Posts: 153
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 15 Years Buff: DANCE
Tamme
#4


PALADIN
The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head


The wraith stallion saw the first to answer his call, and it brought forth a distance memory, an old memory. This black figure was the stepson of the weak soul inside, a daughter of the mate, Soleil. How entirely... delightful. He could destroy an entire family in a day! What utter, beautiful and fantastic fun! The wraith could hardly contain himself and his glee, grinning madly and almost dancing closer, leaning shoulder and hip first so as to easily keep the hairy beast is in better, side vision.

So much was his pleasure that he saw the dragon too late and cowed form her fire, delight turning to fury all too quickly. Dragons. He HATED dragons. The unnatural, scaly beasts were straight from hell, and he quivered as he watched her, tearing his eyes away only by force. Well, if he killed the stallion... the dragon would die too. The multiple rows of scars that ran along his eye and neck, keeping his mane from growing longer than a brush, were all too familiar. Gossamer's blue monster had done that to him and Smoke's blue had been no better.

The stallion uttered that name again. That. Wretched. Name.

"STOP SAYING THAT NAME! He yelled, the force of his voice like a tidal wave. "STOP SAYING THAT WRETCHED NAME. WHO YOU SEEK IS DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!" The stallion screamed, spit flying from between his lips. Why did they keep calling him that? Could they not see that he was different now? Better? Stronger? No longer plagued by the disease that pained his hips and hocks, kept him so achingly tied to this body? Cruel bastards wanted him to be in pain!

The wraith lunged, serrated teeth bared as he howled, aiming for Tyradon, but he faltered mid-step. Another said that wretched name, but in a song. Paladin stepped backward, ears pinning as he was entranced by the small voice in a way that made him panic. "Wha-at are you doing..." he trailed, feeling his body resonate, warm up, soften almost. The wraith screamed and cried in agony, the noises almost ethereal and hellish as the disease began to leak from his pores like slick, black oil.

Paladin's hooves were firmly rooted to the ground, stance wide in wonder and fear, the noises coming from his throat almost impossible to believe. As the drops fell from his skin, he tumbled to his knees, weak, feeling the pain of his body hit him again, and he closed his crimson eyes, laying against the cool grass and simply breathing. Was this waking up? Was the nightmare finally over?

Could he go see Soleil again?





Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#5



t y r a d o n

FIRE AND BLOOD!

Muscles twitch as he watches Paladin's every movement, endlessly wary of what the unicorn could be planning. Tyradon knows not the symptoms of the queer pandemic that raked Helovia during his first days here, but something tells him that he doesn't want to get too close to the potentially infectious disease that runs rife through the man's bloodstream.

He's taken aback as Paladin roars at him, ears slamming into the roiling strands of his mane. It appears it isn't just his body that has cracked - as Cynder said, broken body, broken mind. The unicorn's twisted grin sickens him to his stomach, and a predatory growl rips free from his throat. "You're pretty damned animated for a dead man," he rumbles, scarred brow quirking. The beast's mind is frantic, trying to decide what to do; does he run to fetch his mother, have her talk some sense into her lover? Or does he try to seek an antidote for whatever crippling disease has taken the stallion over? Before he can decide, another joins them, an attractive palomino mare, pure and hornless. Like Confutatis, she has a kitsune by her side, and despite the situation he can feel Cynder itching to go and greet the creature. Tyradon mentally warns her away, urging her to focus. "Be careful," he murmurs to the mare as she edges closer - as though reading her mind, he moves close to her, ensuring he protects her from any attacks Paladin may launch towards her.

She speaks his name, but sings it, and Tyradon senses magic. He continues to move forwards, placing his massive frame between her and Paladin, allowing her to do what she will whilst he guards her from attack. Cynder lifts from his back and circles protectively, flame-tail lighting up the night. Paladin lunges for him, and Tyradon stands strong, his own yellowed teeth bared against the onslaught, but before the unicorn reaches him he screams in agony and seems to fall back through the force of whatever strange song is pouring from Tandavi's lips. The unicorn collapses, and the warlord lingers close to him, ensuring he guards the singing mare from any retaliation - the only time a unicorn can be trusted, on the ground or otherwise, is when it's dead, and his hooves twitch with the desire to crush Paladin's horned skull. His dam would never have to know - he would be saving her, saving her from this creature's weight on her hips and mongrel foals in her belly.

But he cannot - because, like it or not, Soleil loves this man. And Tyradon loves Soleil.

So he stands sentinel, silent and stoic as he watches the mare work her magic, glancing between her and Paladin whilst the jade war-dragon continues to circle overhead.


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Tandavi The Fire Dancer Posts: 245
World's Edge Nurse atk: 6.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Natraj :: Plain Kitsune :: Fire Charks
#6

She is surprised by the concern in the tall man's voice, a gruffly exuded warning of caution. Surprised, but not distracted for more than an instant, a fleeting flicker of eyes and nostril flare. She wonders at his dragon, small and emerald and so unlike her aunt's, wonders if she is cheerful like Aikath with a joyous whistle and- but she snaps back to the moment as her voice starts slipping, the magic growing restless in the folds of her throat, forming a tight ball of shocking light and violent health. Chestnut filly grits her teeth, a look of concentration and perhaps constipation settling on the moon-slashed face as she wills the magic to listen, wills it to behave and flow through her, out into the dun.

She nearly balks at his scream, the rage and agony of the dead man's voice. Eyes clench shut against the world as she pushes on, wills her voice not to falter, her throat not to close. Dark and seldom used tones weave a fragile mimic of what Lena sang that day, cautious imitation and bold, deep accents that make it her own- she falls into it, spiraling, and does not see the ink flow away, the contortion and rebirth and struggle of demon and man.

It is the thud of his body that jolts her back, eyes springing open and voice abruptly still. Copper girl returns to the world to find Paladin collapsed and the black stud her guard, tall form between them and scent heavy on her nostrils. It makes her shudder, though with what emotion she does not know- she cannot remember the last time a stallion was so close, the last time anyone was so close, and for a hairline of a second wants to press herself against him and feel his male heat.

Then the magic subsides, and the desire with it. Suddenly tired, the filly stumbles forward, edging around the tall black stud on shaky legs. She wants to see Paladin, confirm he is alright, ease the anxiety that prickles at her poll. Gold limbs inch around her midnight guard, circling to reach the fallen foe where he lies so peaceful, a warm skeleton of the beast who she had faces mere minutes - or was it hours? - before. Tandavi blinks her soft relief, lowering her face to breathe on him, an act of comfort once offered by her dam. She does not speak, for what little voice she had has been offered to him already, but stares with hope dark in her eyes, willing him to smile, to prove she has done well.



THE FIREDANCER
for it was I who walked among the falling stars, and did not burn
credit | credit

o. pixel pony credit to tamme
o. permission granted to use force and magic on Tavi
o. only tag me in opening posts, please!

Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#7
Ophelia the Forsaken

Ophelia had been unable to return by some strange force that she could not explain. A sickness had overcome her, but it had been much different than the darkness. She had been in the north when it hit, a strong feeling of being overwhelmed and feverish. Nights had gone by when she did not know what day it was, a strange wan light hovering over her memories. Fluid had poured from her nose for nearly a week as Tinek had brought her more and more water, worried that his bond mate would die. The fever had broken, and she regained her strength slowly, never wanting to go through that horrible experience again.

So, time had moved more slowly for the Forsaken than it ever had before. Not being conscious of how many weeks had gone by was a novelty, as her eidetic memory never allowed her to forget a single atom of experience. Sickness, it seemed, was allowed to trump her memory, if only for a short time, and she bitterly thought that she would not mind being sick again if only for the reprieve from the burden on her mind. The last conversation she remembered clearly was Midas telling her that the Foothills and the Basin had invaded the Throat and the Edge. An antlered pegasus had nearly killed her and informed her that Mauja had disappeared into the ocean.

Were all of these things connected? Did Ktulu fight? How could she betray Midas? Was she ultimately responsible? Did she set up the contract with the Basin only to leave before its culmination set its war on her friends? Too many questions.

The pale princess walked with utmost grace, cloven hooves carrying her easily across the land to the fiery center. She had lost weight in her sickness, making her already slender form appear almost gaunt, but her shimmering birdsong coat and lively, vibrant eyes told a different story about her health. Weight and strength would return in time. The alabaster strands of her mane and tail had grown long and thick, the ends a bloody, dark red, veiling the strange, dual colored blue and red gaze.

"Dragon." Tinek said in her mind, his silver form gaining more altitude to try to see what was going on. The frosty beast focused in on two equines and a unicorn on the ground, and he shoved the pictures into Ophelia's head.

Phi blinked, shocked at the images Tinek sent her. Father? Who else bore the black dun pelt with red accent other than the Valiant himself. The pale princess broken quickly into a canter, long, slender legs covering ground swiftly and coming up carefully on a strange scene. Immediately, she cast her blue and red gaze to the largest stallion present, one with feathers on his hooves, body thick and strong, much taller than she was and she was not short. Her expression was suspicious, but she tore her eyes away and moved to her father, lowering her nose and touching him gently, confused.

"Father...?" she questioned, her chime-like tones very gently. When he seemed to be all right, she turned to the bright, sunny yearling. The moon marking across her face, all lovely and white, reminded her of another, Rishima. Meeting the dark moon mare had been long ago, but the memory was clear as day in her mind. "What happened?" she asked, looking between the two of them, brows furrowed over her vibrant eyes.

Tinek, avoiding the green dragon, descended carefully, landing on her back. He was fully grown, heavier and thicker than before, and he eyed the situation carefully through bright, crimson orbs.


Credits: Image by Del-Rae @ DA




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!

Paladin the Valiant Posts: 153
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 15 Years Buff: DANCE
Tamme
#8


PALADIN
The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head


Paladin felt as if he had been run over by Archibald, and he breathed against tight ribs and a constricted chest. The silver hairs of his arthritic body began to show through again, collecting on his hocks and hips where years of fighting and war had taken its toll. As he lay on the ground, feeling in control of himself again, he inhaled the sweet smell of grass, still hearing the echo of the song in his head. Someone had healed him, and he would have to thank them sincerely.

Father...?

How long had it been since he heard that voice? The stallion's brows furrowed as he felt a soft, feminine touch on his neck, and he opened his crimson eyes, lifting his neck slightly as he regained his strength. Vertigo snatched his vision, and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to keep the world from spinning. When it faded, he heard his daughter demanding to know what had happened, and he gazed at her pale figure, admiring the woman she had grown to be.

Did she have kids? Did she and that spotted asshole...? Was she happy? Then, he saw a silver dragon land on her back, and he stiffened, gritting his teeth. Well, she was her mother's daughter, and the dragon went with the territory. Still. He eyed the creature suspiciously before trying to pull his body from the ground. The arthritis in his joints burned, and he grunted with the effort, wincing as he favored his hind legs.

"Ophelia," he said quietly, moving gingerly to stand next to his daughter. "I believe that this kind young soul helped me - from what I do not know." Paladin's brows furrowed as he looked upon the other one. He was so familiar. Suddenly, the memory was there.

"Tyradon?" he asked, disbelief in his charismatic voice. "You made it out alive!" He said jovially. "So few survive the shades. I was worried for you and for your mother." Soleil. Where was she?





Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#9



t y r a d o n

FIRE AND BLOOD!

He can feel the power in the air, thrumming like a heartbeat. Then, just like that, it's over - he looks to the young mare, half-expecting her to have keeled over with the effort. But she seems fine, and moves to Paladin's side; the behemoth shifts aside, allowing her to pass, but his silver gaze lingers on her with a note of concern in them. He fears the unicorn is faking his sudden recovery; is luring the girl closer to strike like a coiled viper, and his muscles remain tensed in preparation to fight if necessary.

He feels a weight on his back as Cynder lands, flaming tail lashing like a whipcord as she stands to attention on his rump. But, to his surprise, her focus isn't on her bonded; she stares off into the middle distance, refined skull held erect like a guard dog. What is it? he asks her, but her mind is closed to him with the strength of her focus. He follows her gaze and his blood turns to ice as he sees a slender unicorn mare, pale with red-tipped tendrils, and...oh. By her side is a regal silver, and even Tyradon in his ignorance can tell that the creature is male. Save for his grandmother's bonded blue, Saphri, Cynder has never met a male dragon - she twitches and an anguished gurgle escapes her vicious jaws. He's of royal stock, and for a lowly green like her it's like being in the presence of celebrity - Terrador's golden queen, Eridor, taught the then-hatchling Cynder how to conduct herself like a metallic monarch, but she cannot hide the fact her scales are resolutely green and that the only crown she will ever wear is one earnt by her blackened king. In dragon society, she's worthless, although not for lack of dominating on her part. But this silver - oh, he's handsome, and Tyradon's nostrils wrinkle at the sensations washing over him from the force of his bonded's emotions.

She is moments away from leaping from the bastard's back and going to the hybrid mare and her glorious companion - Tyradon can feel her desire to throw herself at the silver, to invite him to play and show that her lowly scale colour doesn't detract from her impressive strength and ability to perform aerial maneuvers. No - you are not some scarlet hussy to throw yourself at the first man you see. You are a queen, Cynder, in mind if not in colour. But his words fall on deaf ears; the jade war-dragon has eyes only for the silver, and with a snort of disgust the obsidian monolith leaves her to her devices. She's been more broody than usual lately, and he puts her interest in the silver down to the fact she hasn't been in the company of a dragon male for nigh on eight years, and she had always considered Saphri like a father. Despite her advanced age, the green beast's mind is still childish, and crushes seem to develop rather easily. Regal as she is, she simply cannot act aloof for any longer than a few seconds, and like an emerald angel of death she swoops from the warlord's back and heads towards the silver male. Chirps echo from her throat as she hovers nearby, flame-tail dangling tantalisingly as she invites the glorious ice king to play - if he will deign to lower himself to socialising with a common green.

The warbringer's own attention lingers on the mare, eyes narrowing as she addresses Paladin as father. Oh, he should have known - this must be Soleil's other mongrel child, the bonded one. Ophelia. Well, crack out the family photo albums, it's a damn reunion. He looks back to Paladin, who, to his surprise, addresses him. He quickly smothers his shocked expression and schools his face back to stone, hiding any and all reactions behind a firm mask of icy indifference. "Aye, I did," he says, because he's nervous for some strange reason, almost as if some deep-hidden part of him still seeks approval from this old stallion, despite the fact Tyradon has spent the last seven years bathing in the blood of his species. He mentions Soleil, and finally the bastard allows himself a small smile; what better way to get back into his dam's good graces than to bring her husband to her? She had told Tyradon not to search for him, but it couldn't be helped if he found the unicorn by accident.

"My mother has been searching for you - she was worried. We should find her, let her know you're alive and well." Despite everything, the demon cannot hide the love he feels for his mother; who knows how long she has left on this earth? He needs to make amends with her, or he'll regret it forever, because her choice of mate doesn't change the fact she created him.


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#10
Ophelia the Forsaken


Ophelia watched as her father came over, almost as if nothing had ever happened. How long had it been since she had seen her sire? She eyed him suspiciously, looking over his worn, dark body as he spoke. Sick with what? How? Why? The Forsaken watched him intently, looking back at his healer for only a moment. The look was grateful, but it was also very confused. How could she stand there and pretend that she had been close to her father all of these years? Of course she still cared about him in her own way, but this was just...strange. Some part of her wondered if she had stepped into an alternate reality the God of Time had created only to screw around with her for Roskuld.

"I have not spoken to you in years. What is going on?" she asked her father, staring at him in confusion. Much to her surprise, her father had addressed the massive war stallion by name, indicating that he knew him in Isilme. Mother? Had her father had a different mate? Or did Soleil have other children? Ophelia had been too young or not born when Tyradon had made his brief appearance, and she now gave the stallion a once over, seeing some similarities between him and her mother.

Tyradon's words confirmed what she thought. Apparently her mother had other children. Somehow that news did not affect her at all. In fact, she found it most curious. Ophelia looked over Tyradon with a very open and strange curiosity - like Alice examining which "drink me" vial to consume. Very carefully, she took a single step forward, her cloven hooves sinking in the grass. What could she say that would not be painfully obvious? Tyradon, you are my half-brother? What was he like? Obviously he seemed cordial enough toward Paladin - did they have a good relationship?

"The shades were brutal," she finally said, her chime-like voice hanging like find mist. "I am glad you survived. You are family." Ophelia meant those words. Ktulu had instilled in her this sense of family and of belonging. Ordinarily, such emotion would not affect her, but after shouldering her sister's weight as a child, the nature effect of evolution had taken its toll. Ophelia watched carefully before taking note that her dragon had found a friend.

During the discussion, Tinek had noticed the green female by her chirping. Unlike the green, he had been taught how to be dragon by a bear and a little, amusing black dragon. He had not developed natural dragon habits of ego, and he did not assume his kingly throne of metallic royalty. So, when she flew over, Tinek took a leap from Ophelia's back and up into a tree where he could examine her away from the pale princess he guarded.

Naturally, the male dragon was entranced. He had never seen green scales before, and they were pretty - she was pretty. "I like." He mumbled in Ophelia's head, blinking his crimson eyes as he leaned forward from the branch, sniffing at her form. He heard Ophelia hum back in his head in a coy way, so he flew from the branch toward the green, chirping in his own way and trying to arch his back to show off his dangerously shape spines.

"Tinek likes your green," she murmured softly, watching them play with a gentle, happy smile on her face. "What is her name?"



Credits: Image by Del-Rae @ DA




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!


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