the Rift


[PRIVATE] I'm only Human

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719
Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE
Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu
#1


It came with dawn, the pain.

What had begun as a feeling of heaviness over the past several days, combined with an increased appetite, had appeared to Ampere as nothing more than a minor cold. Oddly enough however her nose never ran and her throat never itched, but all the same she was, off.

Her mother would have laughed knowingly, and even hens would have clucked with their experience, but Ampere was blind to the workings of her body and the aftereffects of a well spent afternoon with the embodiment of the flaming orb that currently climbed the sky.

Just as the day was born, so too was a flame, in the guise of a foal.

Ampere kicked anxiously at her stomach and repeatedly folded and unfolded her wings. It felt like a stomach ache, but further back and somehow different.
With a groan she laid down to roll for a third time, thoroughly covering herself in red dust. She lie there on her left side, flanks heaving more than normal with her elevated respiration. She didn't get up, she lacked the energy, or at the very least, she thought she did.

The pain came then, gripping and overwhelming to such a degree that the edges of Ampere's gaze swam with black dots. Her nostrils flared and her flanks quivered as her body contracted against the pale shell that had finished forming.

"What's happening?!" Ampere thought wildly, her eyes rolling white as another burst of pain washed over. She knew, as she had known for a while, that she was not ill.

Afraid, Ampere found new energy and scrambled back to her hooves, her teeth grit against another spasm of pain as she struggled to stand. Every cord of her muscles was taut with worry and focus, her ears spinning about madly on her poll to listen as she frantically sought some form of shelter and isolation among the flat landscape.

A nearby grove of tree promised little but was all she had on hoof. She waddled awkwardly to it, and there fell to her side once more, dust swirling about her nose as she panted and pushed. With a final crow her egg slipped past her tail.


For a while Ampere could only lay there. She was in disbelief more than immobilization, her head repeatedly lifting from the carpet of sand to stare wide-eyed at the pale shape sitting innocently behind her. "How?" she breathed, the word barely a whisper as anxiety clawed up her throat and choked the wind from her.

"No." She said, firmer now, "No. No no no no no. No this can't be!" With a newfound vigor Ampere bolted to her feet, sand splattering the side of the egg with a delicate sound. Like some monstrous crab Ampere moved away from it, only stopping when her side bumped against a rough tree trunk.

Her mouth had gone dry and her heart threatened to thump its way right out of her chest, but Ampere knew. Deep down, Ampere knew what this was and why this was, but more importantly, she knew what it meant, and it was a responsibility she did not want and was not equipped for by most any means.

"Damnit!" she cursed as she stalked forward abruptly. He movements were jagged and harsh, though underneath the searing anger she still trembled with fear. "This is all his fault!" she moaned as she cast a forehoof into the sand beside the egg, She continued like this for a while, venting her frustrations verbally and physically as she dug a hole, an arduous task in sand intent on spilling back in where she'd already pulled it out.

Eventually her frustration lent itself back to exhaustion and with an over dramatic groan Ampere stepped away from her desert nest. With a grimace she faced the egg square, tentatively reaching down to bump it with her nose. The shell was surprisingly cool to the touch, and hard, but fraught with miniscule bumps. She held her muzzle against ti for a while, amazed by what had been made.

A hawk screeched overhead, startling Ampere from her reverie. hastily, as if the hawk might be on to her intent, Ampere nosed the egg into the hole she'd dug. As a finishing touch she piled up sand around it, so that it was mostly covered. "There," she finished, stepping back to admire her work. "That should keep you warm little one," she murmured, hoping the shade of the tree grove would provide enough balance with the heat so that it did not cook.

The sun gleamed against a bit of exposed shell.

"Stay safe," she whispered as she turned away, galloping across the sands and beginning to lift her wings into flight. She had no intention of returning. Ampere remained unbonded.

@[Tandavi]


L EAVE THE PAST BEHIND, WALK AWAY | AND THE CRACKS BEGIN TO S HOW

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

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
#2
Their intention is never to find the egg.

In fact, their intention is to find its mother, though by the time the pair reaches the scene all signs of Ampere have disappeared. Wind-washed sand lies in her wake, a nest of spirals that marks its treasure in a breath of movement, though the egg lies nearly submerged in its jittery haven.

What draws the pair is not the egg- indeed, it is some minutes and a few lines of discourse before they realize the presence of a third. It is the trees, and their promised respite from the desert heat, the glaring sun they do not remember being so hot on their last visit to this place. Or perhaps the walk had simply been shorter then, the sun unnoticed in their passion and panic and blind, running rage. Today that is absent, the frenzy of invasions, half-forgotten memories of a harsh, frantic time; replaced with calm determination and an underbelly of fear. They are not coming for haven, not exactly- they are coming for purpose, for duty, and perhaps even, for home.

So what are they to do, when as they pace beneath the desert trees they realize, eyes widening, that the patch of stone they were prepared to forlornly kick aside is in fact not only attached to something more, but not stone at all?

The girl blinks her onyx eyes. "What... is it?"

Her brother presses his nose to it. Cold, he answers. Bumpy. A pause, and then- Not rock.

Eyeroll. "Duh," she mutters back, lowering her head beside his own, nostrils pressed flush against the shell. She pulls back, sneezes- "It feels like you," and the boy peers back, gold gaze bemused.

"Not like that. Like when you were..."

Egg!

Fox's feet are better than filly, and it is not long before Natraj has confirmed their discovery with a triumphant yip. The egg sits, gleaming in the desert sand, white and coarse and so very wrong. For a minute, girl and brother sit and stare, unable to even start to fathom the reality of the situation, the presence of an egg the size of Natraj sitting unattended in the desert sand.

They wait for an hour, then an hour more. They wait until the sun starts to set, and the light in her mane to glow, and the unease of night to settle into their bones. Then they push out the egg, but are still unsure, and thirsty, and hungry, and irritable.

They sigh. What do we do? the boy asks.

"Whatever we have to," the girl replies.
Image Credits

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


Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#3


Aithniel
The first flame burned gloriously, but the second flame burns cold.


She did not know that she had been abandoned, left to die alone in the cruel world. Perhaps that was a good thing, but she would find out. One day she would know that from the beginning, the word "unwanted" and herself were synonymous. All that she knew was left in a pit of sand, moved around by the kind hearts of two, the only reason she would survive. But, they would not be mother, and they would not be father. She would be alone.

The egg began to vibrate as she struggled inside the hard casing. Yes, this was soon, very soon, but as if knowing the distress, she pressed onward. She was a fighter. She always would be. Pointed, sharp toes of cloven hooves shot against the surface, weakly. A crack formed on the pearly surface, leaving a resounding snapping noise in its wake. The night wore on as more cracks formed, and she would be still for a few minutes to regain her strength.

Sometime close to the break of day, she managed to breath through. Two, nubs of black horns pushed first and then the rest of her tiny, skinny body. Her eyes were not open yet, still sealed shut, and she trembled in the absence of warmth and comfort. A small, pathetic whine moved past her lips, hungry and alone. She was cold. Long, knobbly limbs shifted, kicking the remainder of the egg away.

Aithniel was born, and the only one there to witness was a girl and her friend. She cried again, a little louder this time, struggling but unable to stand. Food, she wanted to beg, but she didn't know the words. She just knew the feeling of hunger and of need. The ache gnawed at her bony ribs, and she was desperate, saline streaming from her eyes.



But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!

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
#4
The girl's not looking at the egg when hairline cracks begin to splinter across its face, but the boy is, over-sized ears pressed forward at the sound of scraping hooves behind the shell. In seconds the girl is by his side, staring anxiously at the crumbling wall which up to now had protected her from the responsibility of whatever lay inside. She feels the last sliver of hope that someone will come back for the egg laugh and leave her, teasing as it dances into the darkening night, and the dread of this reality settles heavily on her head. She looks to Natraj, whose face is a mask of exuberant anticipation, then back to the egg, and swallows hard the lump in her throat. She is ready, she tells herself, ready to take care of whatever poor thing (a fox? Natraj came from an egg...) emerges from the shell and onto the sand. Pulse beating heavy, she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

When the dawn threatens to creep above the eastern horizon, she eyes it blearily, black eyes tired from her vigilant watch. She has not dared sleep, not even to doze, though her body is young an in need of the rest. It is the spiderwebs of cracks that has kept her awake, the ever growing patterns of flaws and gaps, tantalizing promises of the creature inside that never seem to come to fruition, no matter how she wills it. More than once she has had to talk Natraj out of 'helping' the egg, for she dares not rush what nature has perfected. It is not until a resounding snap fills the empty air, and a segment of pale shell abruptly breaks away from the hole that she makes a half-jump forward, wide awake and at full attention, straining for a sight of the creature within.

It takes a moment for them to comprehend the small winged form that lay before them, sad and cold and tiny and weak. When it hits them, it takes another moment form them to truly understand- and by then the little filly is crying, a whimpering sound accompanied by movement that suggests an attempt to stand. It is Natraj who acts first, as usual, leaping into action to push himself against the infant's side, whining his comfort, gazing at the thing with pity in his golden eyes. Why? he asks his bonded, and she can feel his pain and anger through their bond, emotions he quenches so as to avoid scaring the child. Where is mother?

Where is Mother? It's a good question, one that applies to both the yearling and the babe, and with a pang of empathy Tandavi steps forward, willing her voice to soothe the crying child. "It will be okay," she reassures, despite her sinking suspicion that it most certainly will not. She can barely look after herself and Natraj; what is a yearling and a fox to do with a newborn babe? She takes another step forward, hesitant, unsure how best to stop the child's tears. "I'll make sure you're safe," she whispers, voice strong with the impassioned naïveté of youth. "I promise."

She means it, and in that moment, she knows that whatever else happens to her in this world or the next, she will keep her promise. She will keep the child safe.


Image Credits

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


Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#5


Aithniel
The first flame burned gloriously, but the second flame burns cold.



Words hit her ears from a voice. She did not know what they meant or what was said. Nothing about the strange murmur of those consonants and vowels meant anything. The child was hungry. What did those strange sounds mean anyway? Food? Anything. Her body was shaking, but she didn't realize why until she felt cold. The egg had been warm and moist, and out here was cold and dry.

The child finally opened eyes, revealing stunning, molten silver orbs that looked around the world in shock. Mewling and crying suddenly seemed so irrelevant as she saw for the first time the world. Something in her chest beat dully, and she just stared out at the vast dunes of sand and grass. A bright light was moving ever upward - yellow, big and round. Aithniel was transfixed. Her shivering stopped, and she breathed noisily, the mucus from the egg still stuck in her nasal cavities.

Crying was irrelevant now that the big, orange circle was coming. She felt renewed, if that even meant anything at all. The child stumbled on her goat hooves and tried to get up. Aithniel looked over and realized that the owner of the voice was also like the sun, and she looked between the yellow orb and her golden hide a few times. Connections were beginning to be made.

Her first try at standing failed. She took a tumble in the stand and whimpered. Aithniel pushed onward though until her long, spindly legs were shaking beneath her and she was breathing comfortably again. Stuck to her sides were the barely feathered bones of wings, and she pulled them from her sticky sides, looking at them as if they were alien tentacles.

Aithniel looked up at the other one. She didn't have alien bones. The babe frowned slightly, thinking that already she was different, easily abandoned. When she looked back at the remnants of shell that she came from, she realized that this creature must not be her mother. But, she was hungry yet, and hunger had to be met. Aithniel huffed and stomped her hooves.



But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!


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