the Rift


[PRIVATE] They Took Her Honour, Then Her life.

Eris_ Posts: 97
Deceased
Mare :: Equine :: 15.1 :: 4 Buff: NOVICE
Frostie
#1
I need an interventionist,
To intervene between me and this monster,
And save me from myself and all this conflict,
'Cause the very thing that I love's killing me and I can't conquer it.
Slowly she moved through the falls, it had been awhile since she had taken time to explore. They lived with the sane, the fear to lower her hood that cloaked her features, hunted her every day. For if the hood were to be lowered then they would see her as death. A yellowed skull with very few scraps of skin clinging to the decaying bone. Empty eye sockets that no longer burned with the fire of life. What good was a lively face of an Empress if she no longer had a throne to sit upon? If her own subject now challenged and belittled her? The skull had decided that it liked living here, but she would not remain a second class citizen for much longer. However in the mean time, she played dress up.

Her sharpened hooves continued to carry the body of gold over the grassy and broken plains. "There was was a girl named Danny." Whispered the mare to the sky. Today she was someone new, a philosopher who knew all the tales and histories of each different world and land. Her name was Flieta of The Falls, and this mare was meek, bending and yielding. Her blue eyes looked over the gap that created the falls. "The Earth god created this land and selected Midas and Seele to lead." Her head tiled to the side studying the water the drifted through the air. "Eris decided to destroy them all." A giggle pushed it's way through her chops. "One day, she did."

Flieta of The Falls turned her spotted back on the water and trudged forward wondering where her masters where today. Flieta did not want to disappoint, after all the skull of death wanted to remain here and one day lead. She dare not upset the skull, for she ruled all. For the decaying mass that held her body together was only using Flieta of The Falls as a means to an end, this persona would serve, and bend. Eris would destroy and rule over the blood spilt by her leaders. A gentle breeze blew through the blood red mane of Flieta. "Birdsong." Giggling, the young mare pressed forward, her nose in the air inhaling the scents that floated through the air to her. A sight made her pause, blood in the grass. 'Oh dear, oh dear!' Who on earth was hurt? Would they need the gift of mercy? That would require her to change costumes, what a bother! The personality of Mercy was much more exciting, delivering the gift of pure bliss to those who begged for it. Humming, Flieta continued on her path following the trail of blood. Finally the trail stopped, only there not one soul to be seen. Perhaps they would rather see Mercy, maybe they were hiding from Flieta. That was quite a shame, today Mercy wasn't coming out to play. Sighing softly, the golden mare continued through the long grass.

690 words.
"Speech"
ERIS
The Blood Empress

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
#2
 MIDAS</style>
 I can't remember why I've wasted all these tears</style>

I’d been watching them, the insane ones. The females that took head positions in this family, and my own tongue decreed it so. “You shouldn’t trust them.” Fina cautioned, her words lapsing into a slang—those eyes brilliantly wide and blue, staring at me from the trees. “What’s not to trust?” I countered, curious of her findings, “They prove themselves yet loyal to our cause.” As much as I’d like to defend those glassy eyed girls, Fina was right. They served as no kin of mine, or with anything more than a tolerance for my presence. Their eyes, masked and sticky sweet—I couldn’t see past the veil to sniff at treachery; though there was no mistake something about them, rubbed me the wrong way.

“Would they be more trusting if I’d wrap them in chains for the sack of my paranoia?” She shook her beak and purposely looked away, “Nay.” Her feathers spread; a shimmering glow of firelight sprang from each hollowed limb. “Not all approve of my appointment.” Voice came softer now, whispering more than openly talking, “Best they are made our allies, rather than each other’s enemies.”

“I don’t like them.” Fina barked, hissing with mouth gapped open. I smiled gently, “Ye don’t have to.” She blinked those great blue orbs and settled back, relaxing her grip on the bark.

It was then that the rustling of movement and soft pattering of feet caught my attention. The amber woman was talking to herself, humming and giggling over some inside joke. Distance separated us enough so that I couldn’t make out her words. Despite Fina’s sharp chirp, warning me to stay silent. I spoke up, half out of not wanting to appear as some lurker in the shadows, and mostly because I had been wanting to converse with the General of our armies, “Hail, Legatus! Long days and nights to ye.” My stance remained relax and friendly, lips slide into a gentle grin. Fina snarled from her branch and fell quiet



[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#3


GIVE ME THE BURDEN, GIVE ME THE BLAME
I'LL SHOULDER THE LOAD AND I'LL SWALLOW THE SHAME
GIVE ME THE BURDEN GIVE ME THE BLAME
HOW MANY HOW MANY HOW MANY
HAIL MARY'S IS IT GOING TO TAKE?



The woman is enervated, weary, mere tremblings of a step upon the earth, traversing beneath the twilight borne skies; mouthfuls of oxygen caressing burning lungs and feeble bones— the Rotunda and the lands of the kingdom were far birthed and troublesome to cross, and yet more so when the vagabond who flitted across them with a (shocking) lack of utmost grace and elegance coughed cruor from her throat, stained it in splatters across her alabaster lips, heralded decaying sinew across her croup and ribs, chunks of reaped flesh and flakes of once gleaming hide littering the grounds behind her.


The Nightingale looks like the scattered remnants of a wraith.
And perhaps she is; for all the conscious thought that prevailed her, a dull throb of pain — Lord, she had never known such physical cast agony in her life — and her skin shivers with the flinching tremors of muscle beneath the surface, her heart beating a fast paced rhythm in her bosom, each fluttering shadow a daemon to reap her soul from her frame and each caw in the coppice causing her nerves to dance with frightening pyre and her sluggish movements to jerk forwards. Harks flick rapidly to and fro even as her nostrils quiver with ambivalence, she feels as much use as a newborn babe, and when her hazy vision catches the faintest of flames upon the horizon, the warm hue of incense upon the wind; she feels her caged heart palpitate in her bosom. What if the childe of war had sent forth her armies, bludgeoned her kin with brutal force and burnt their ashes upon the cruor stained skies?

The white's of the Nightingale's irises gleam.
Cruor.

The Empress.
A swath of passion and ire causes her to drop into a fast-paced trot, a whimpering breath of pain and— they won't touch her, she's coming, it'll all be alright— shockwaves resonate throughout her battered framework and she despairs, trepidation fueling the wavering resources of adrenaline within her veins and she shall care less about the state she is in if only her Queen is not dead.
You'll lose her, murmurs her scrambled thoughts, you'll lose her as you lost him and the burden of it shall rest upon your withers (no, no she wants to scream to the skies, she shall not lose her as she has lost allgemeine, she shall not, she WILL NOT).

Voices ricochet. Legatus. Is that the Golden Caliph? Is it her mind, the short onyx and alabaster winged man? But even as she passes him, in a dreamlike sway, she sees whom he refers to, a woman with aureate flesh and bright, velvet cerulean spheres, she's not injured and she puffs out a strangled noise of relief even as the full weight of her exertion rests as the world on her withers, alive, alive alive alive alive alive.

Baleful violet, cracked lips, a dry song of damnation and stuttering hums to pass her maw, a chorus. What had they referred to the obsidian mare to, time and time again during her time in the swamps? She had lived in the swamps, had she not? "Oathbreaker," spots dance within her vision. "Swindler of babes, the woman with a skull for her dome."

Her neck tenses, droops, she's so sleepy.
"Regime.. in the Rotunda, she lives with them. She has purloined two babes with the scent of the north on their breath. I tried.." With a gust of the wind she falls to her knees in the blanket of tall stalks, the stretching skies swirling together in a breathtaking mixture of stars and the depths of outerspace.

And oh, the stars— she thinks, even as her eyelids cover her glazed pearls, a heaving breath and she is gone from the cruel touch of the world.
The stars are beautiful tonight.



:: I was vague on her injuries otherwise specifically on my part, as wanda and I agreed to spar directly following up the thread. tl;dr, she fainted.

THEONS
AHMEDBAKIR : VENOMXBABY : GALAXIESANDDUST : SALSOLASTOCK

Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Seele the Necromancer Posts: 210
Deceased atk: 5.5 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.2 hh :: five (ages orangemoon) Buff: NOVICE
Abba
#4



s e e l e

I had been lurking in the shadows as of late, recovering from my injuries. I was taking in all the information I could, getting used to these lands. And it was when I stumbled across the sound of Eris's voice that I stopped my movement, getting in close enough to hear my name to lead. About to emerge I stopped as she spoke of destroying them all, and that one day she did. Eyes narrowing in disdain as I recollected myself upon the sound of Midas's hooves and voice. Quietly, I begin to pull myself from these shadows only to see the broken form of Circuta. Her flesh is rotting just as mine had been and a low hiss escapes my maw. May Confutatis rot in hell. Schwere roars before I see the mare collapse.

Instantly, I shoot from the shadows and to her side. "We need Reizend. We need her now!" I bark, careful to not press my maw up against any of her rotting flesh, and the images of concern lacing through my orbs and features. "Confutatis returned me in this state, exactly, after she tried to steal me. She failed, but this is not good." I said, forgetting the words of destruction for the moment. I would speak to Midas later. What mattered now was that Circuta was given a healer. I pause, taking a breath in to steady myself. "Midas, can you send Fina? I believe she might be faster than one of us on foot..." I breathe, the anxiety in my voice. These wounds mean little more than death without a healer, and none of us present are gifted with that.

We will not let her die, Liebling says as I look back down to Circuta, "Circuta, stay with us. Please..."


Normal
"Speechy"
Voices

-- sorry it's so late.
Only tagging so you know I responded
@[Eris] && @[Midas] && @[Circuta]

We gotta take a chance while we're still young, but it's gotta be tonight

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