the Rift


[OPEN] Scrape the Sky

Ruske Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#1
RUSKE
As spring waxed full and warm with the march of days, my physical state began to improve. Tired strings of muscle which before only clung to bone out of miserable spite increased, grew supple. Weight began to fill in the worst of the hollows in my flanks, though more time than the single passage of a season was required to see me truly well. It had been a miracle I managed to survive illness, at all. I reminded myself of this fact often, but still I chafed at the limitations of my physical form.

The day had dawned bright and clear some time ago. My hooves scraped over a narrow trail cut into the mountainside. Ever curious, I followed its meandering way up and up, as rock walls rose on either side of me and the world drew small and insignificant below. Forest and field became one, no better than a tapestry – a map – laid out behind me. I paused now and then to study the phenomenon as I climbed, when the chance arose. Perhaps more honestly, I also paused to catch my breath.

Though I had examined my own state with as objective an eye as I might produce, I had clearly overestimated by endurance. Too much time spent wandering, vagrant and fearful, had wasted even the pitiful muscle I had once possessed. I stood gaunt and heaving at every bend in the trail, thoroughly annoyed with myself and with the thin bite of the mountain air. I was fast becoming the frail old man with little more than thoughts to my significance – perhaps not even that. I had provided aid to very few, thus far, and even my attempts at doing so had proven clumsy – uncharacteristically so. I was slipping.

Anger pushed me forward better than any other motivation. I had decided to climb; I would climb. It was no great task… Yet it required the better part of a morning. More often than not I contemplated returning the way I had come, only to step forward again with a resolute shake of my head. My younger self would be ashamed – appalled – by the sight. I had never been a soldier, but I had never required aid in going anywhere I wished to go. Mobility was desirable trait in a healer; when had I lost it?

At long last I thrust over the crest of the hill. Sweat shone in dark patches under my coat, patchy as I was – irregularly shed. I paused with an assertive snort, triumphant, at least, in my small venture. The view proved worth the cost, at least: flat, rolling grassland, sweet and green with the warmth of sunlight pooling on its head. My ears pricked forward, interest caught again. Having arrived, I sauntered over the grass at an easy pace and allowed my eyes to feast. Much to take in: the individual species of plant, the furtive movement further down the field, the low murmur of conversation just beyond my reach. I gathered I was not the only one to discover the place, but its vastness and the mingled scent of no herd in particular told me, also, I did not intrude on anything very specific. Pleased, then, I wandered forward, pausing only to twist my horn at the roots of an irregularly colored nettle, better to study its structure.

NursE
world's edge
Image Credit


[ @[Elsa] This took a while; sorry. Anyone else is welcome too, of course. ]

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#2
ELSA
I can fake a smile, I can force a laugh. I can hold the weight of worlds.


There is something breathtaking about how the sky meets the earth.

Maybe it was the way that the breath of the sky kissed her gently as she melded into it. Or maybe it was the way that it took her breath away because of the immense power it had, the power to kill her in one, giant breath. Her wings unfurled beautifully into the afternoon. They better part of the day spent intertwining with the sky, and receiving the gods blessed gift of morning. Lately, she had abandoned the better part of herself. Maybe it was because the sky had called her so often, pulling mind from body and neglecting most physical appearances. Since birdsong had began to sing, her body had dwindled in size. The usual robust, lively mare had calmed to a reverent, thing life. Ribs could been hauntingly seen in the shadows of her ribs, creating a deathly look to the pale princess.

At the very moment the sky met the earth, she landed delicately, and almost silently. A breath of exhaustion and reverence blew forth from her lungs in relief, glad for life, and patiently awaiting for death. Maybe it's because death, as she had discussed with Déodat, was more than inevitable. It was a fact of life, no one was safe from the reapers scythe.

It wasn't long until fate, or destiny, or pure luck brought into sight an odd sort of creature. His height was similar to her own, and his coloring reminding her of ancient kings and queens. One who had riddled the stories of her childhood, as lonesome, respected king. Upon his head lie a single, long horn, and Elsa began to wonder of his origins. Maybe he resided within the herd of unicorns that inhabited the north. His shaggy, irregular shed coat would more than prove that. But yet, he was so far from home. Why would he not be protecting his boarders? Elsa's mind began to fill with questions, until he heads was as full as a gumball machine. He seemed to be studying a plant, and Elsa decided it was her time to approach.

"Hello sir, out for a stroll?" She questioned with a smile, and a graceful bow. "My name is Elsa, foothills Mason. How do you do today? I can't help but state the obvious, but today is rather lovely." She stated, looking into the sky. The sun, still shining bright overhead, seemed to be raining down upon the little gathering. It granted it's sweltering warmth to all around.

"Talketh."
@[Ruske] Sorry for the wait! <3

I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask.. give you all I am.
but i'm only human. and I bleed when I fall down.

  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Ruske Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#3
RUSKE


        Before the mare spoke, her color caught my eye: pale, glimmering white, as if she were a celestial cousin to clouds. Or perhaps to snow – her hooves caught the sunlight in a particular way. My head drew up as she approached, the weed forgotten as more interesting notions pounded at my head – why had the hooves not melted? Why did she wear the frosted marking on her shoulder? She appeared, in all honesty, as an emissary of a season already past.

        I recalled with bitter sorrow the loss of my magic – so briefly won.

        "Good morning." The words broke dryly from my throat – hoarse. I had been caught thinking, rather than preparing for conversation. I had forgotten – as I so easily did – she must also have a thinking mind, in conjunction with her form. With a swallow, I cleared my throat. Were I not so distracted I might have laughed at her use of the word – sir. Very polite. Commendable, in fact. "Exploring," I answered, wary. My eyes ran over the wings folded neatly along her sides. Pale feathers, fine – I supposed they would filter the light when spread. They did not quite hide the hollows in her sides; considering those, I supposed we were two of a pair. Was she alone…?

        But no – she introduced herself as one of the Foothills. One of my ears rotated back; I knew nothing of the place, of course. Mason -- that implied… building? Craftsmanship? Intrigue caught me, and head tilted, I peered at her with the paler of my eyes – an old habit. Perhaps born of a need for intimidation, long ago, when I found others disliked the peculiar shine of it – set so in an uneven face. But my thoughts continued to scatter; I should introduce myself, if I remembered anything of conversation.

        "My name is Ruske," I said, with a twist of my tail. Reluctantly, my eyes crawled up to meet hers – for the sake of appearances. Her wings were much more interesting – and her hooves! I supposed touching was out of the question, at the moment. I took a step forward instead, craning my long neck. She stood of a size comparable to my own, those long feathers tucked so neatly against the svelte curl of her ribs…

        "I am a nurse for the World’s Edge," I explained, as if this should pardon my behavior. "You are quite thin." I might be excused for looking, I supposed, if it was in the interest of her welfare – yes. Smug, I lifted my eyes again toward her own. "Not a bad day." No, not at all. Inching forward another step, I blinked at her. "Improved by your presence, I am sure."

NursE
world's edge
Image Credit


[ @[Elsa] No worries; would you like to be tagged every post? I... think he'll calm down.. in a bit ]


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