the Rift


[OPEN] You are not the Sun.

Dragomir Posts: 275
World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Bunnie
#1

D R A G O M I R
oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
chasing the lies that no one believes...
The sea.

Blue and broad, it reached out before him for miles and miles, carrying with it a uniquely scented wind that was sunlight, salt, evaporation and the green smell of seaweed all tangled together and buffeting his dark hair about his face as he drags another bent and worn branch out of the sand to inspect it.

Like some of the others he’s pulled up, this one suits his purposes, with a hardy main branch and several smaller ones breaking away from the core, still flexible as he presses down on them with his muzzle. Humming as he works, some unknown song with no name he cannot remember ever hearing, he lilts the pitch of his voice to match the tempo of the sea and wind, together the three of them singing quite the song into the afternoon sunlight.

It is the first moment of true serenity he’s found since Kahlua dropped his heart into the sea. Maybe that’s why he’s come here, to look for it beating on the shore, and perhaps he has found it while searching for objects to use in his projects and practice. He wears across his shoulder a poorly constructed rope of vine converted into twine, his first attempt to create such a thing; it does have more tension strength than the initial materials, he has taken note of, but it is frayed and not as tightly wound as it might have been. At least he’d figured out a way to solve the ends coming loose when he’d tried a bit of sap along the ends and allowed it to harden.

It wasn’t doing the best job, however, and he couldn’t help but notice that the three twines of material were separating and stretching the sap as he tucks this branch in the loop that least upsets the balance of the strap laying across his shoulders.

He also needs something to hold the rope in place better… he marks this in his list of things to do.

For now, the stallion has gathered a good ten pieces of driftwood that he thinks are pliable enough to be of use to top glass bottles, the next project he has in mind. He’ll take the wood home, bury it in soft earth, and wait for it to moisten enough that he can push the sodden bit into the hole of the glass and create a snug fit once the wood dried and expanded; glancing at his packs and deciding their relatively even, he continues walking the beach looking for the last few things on his list.

A conch shell or two, large enough to be used to hold sap and warm it over low flame (of course, he would need the fire first) to make the rope dipping more simple, maybe some smaller ones for pretty things for his friends (as, when he stops to think about it, they’re mostly girls or women).

[ Open for anyone. :) Shell hunt! Haha. ]
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Cirrus Posts: 233
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
Whit
#2
They always say a criminal will return to the scene of the crime.

Was I a criminal? My actions, though cowardly, childish and not something I wanted to think about, (though inevitably ended up thinking about most of the time), couldn't be classified as truly a crime, could they? We had fled the lands when the shadows fell, I had lost the magic that the Dragon's Throat had bestowed upon me, and then, I had lost you.. Sitka. I remember coming to these sands to hunt for you. I used the spear that was now lodged amongst the feathers of my right wing, its wooden shaft sometimes brushing against the bony part of my wing, as each downstroke brought me further over the sandy shores. Was it natural for me to return here? Was it some kind of hope that I clutched to, that by being here, perhaps even by hunting for you again, you would come back to me?

But you weren't coming back to me, were you?

The wind that forever filled my wings continued to do so, the beating of my wings was minimal - I would almost admit that it made me a lazy flyer, as I was essentially able to glide everywhere. Even as the salty air removed most of the natural thermals that bounced off the warm sand as my path led over the ocean, I was able to stay aloft relatively easily, even able to dip down so that the hoof of my left foreleg skimmed across the surface of the deep blue sea. There were scattered, white, fluffy clouds in the sky, and so, there was a mottled pattern of them across my hide as well - as my father would say, I was a cloud in flight.

Though more years have passed since his death than yours, Sitka, I still mourn for him. He was everything to me, my idol, my mentor, my protector - if it weren't for you, Sitka, I would have never recovered enough from his death to continue to live myself.

But now you are gone. What am I do to?

A figure takes shape upon the shore, and at first, from a distance, I think it is merely a pegasus with his wings folded by his sides. But as my wind pushes me onwards, I see the awkward, stiff nature of the appendages by his sides, and realise they aren't appendages at all, but wood?

I was used to the strange, to the weird and wonderful. And while I took an extra few seconds to process what I saw, I accepted this with relative ease too.

He was a large steed, taller than I with a sturdy frame, made all the larger by the gear he draped across himself. He seemed focussed upon the sand mostly now, as if looking for something. It was not that outlandish, considering I was barely a yearling when I came here, spear poised, to kill whatever I stumbled across in the hopes of earning the loyalty of..

I really must stop talking to you, Sitka. I don't even know if you can hear me, wherever you are.

"What're you doing?" My voice drifts out across the expanse of water that separates me from where the steed stands upon the shore, though I swiftly close the distance with a tilt of my body and a graceful sweep of my wings. Landing lightly upon the damp sand, I openly peer at him as the feathered appendages fold down neatly to my side. Though I had accepted that he was indeed, carrying around a pile of thickened, wet sticks, I still didn't know why exactly, which led to my question. Curiosity got the better of me, and without realising it, I allowed myself to be distracted from my grief, at least for now.

@[Dragomir]
bg - table - manip
as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Dragomir Posts: 275
    World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Bunnie
    #3

    D R A G O M I R
    oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
    chasing the lies that no one believes...
    The sky asks him what he is doing.

    Raising his head quite suddenly and with eyes bright with wonder, he is met with the visage of a figure that mimics the white dappled blue above them as if her entire figure is a mirror, and he must blink twice before he understands that it is not truly the sky asking him these questions but a woman, carrying her weight on dark tipped wings. She lands quietly on the sand and he spends perhaps too long staring at her before remembering she’d asked him a question, the query still lingering on the lines of her face.

    "Picking up shells," he says, dumbly unaware of the fact that she means the question more fully towards the sticks strapped to him that, if he though about it, really would make him look like a really strange pegasus from above. He doesn’t think about those types of things, though, too simple to dream of being anyone other than himself, but he at least advancing enough to know that simply the obvious is not enough of an answer to such a question, and so he elaborates…

    "I am, er… well its sort of complicated."

    …or tries to. Her wings make him nervous and he hadn’t really expected company this late in the afternoon when most of the day had been spent alone. Not to mention he doesn’t know her from any memories he can recall and she doesn’t smell like the Edge, and so she obviously has no idea who he is or why in the world he’d be out here picking up random artifacts of nature.

    "I am a glass maker from World’s Edge," he begins, mouth furrowed into a line that displays both the racing of his heart and the thudding of his brain as it mocks him for his dumb tongue, "I guess I’m supposed to teach others how to make things like I do. I need the shells to hold sap in for a lesson on how to make this stuff." He reaches over his shoulder and grabs hold of the rope lightly with his teeth, wiggling it slightly and frowning as the end frays even more right before his eyes.

    Teach them. Yeah right… he can’t even make it properly. But he doesn’t suppose it would be any easier trying to teach someone how to channel the Moon’s magic when they didn’t have it, and it was a much more viable skill than crushing rocks (which had been his first and probably worst idea after he’d learned he was expected to be a teacher as Kahlua had been to him).

    "Or did you mean the wood?" he asks, suddenly turning his eyes back to her as the realization finally hits him that she may have meant none of the things he’d just explained, brows high with embarrassment.


    [ OOC: lmfao apparently Cirrus has blown Dragomir's mind. ]
    @[Cirrus]
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    Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #4
    The boy,( for I feel calling him a grown stallion would be a bit too generous), stares blankly at me for a handful of moments, and in that time, I am reminded of a fish I speared when hunting for you. I remember it's large, vacant eyes, staring into space, its mouth gaping and gasping for air (or water?) dumbly. Perhaps it was unfair of me to compare him to a fish, for I am yet to hear him speak, and if I were to judge everything on its ability to speak, I probably would fall into a spiral of thinking myself greater than everyone else, and I knew irrevocably that that simply was not true.

    How could I possibly call myself better then anyone else when I had lost you?

    He speaks, and my ears prick forward eagerly, looking forward to hearing an explanation for his strange - well, not necessarily strange, as I had seen stranger, but perhaps, different? - behaviour. I am rewarded with three words that explain why he was looking at the sand, at least. Amusement begins to spark behind my eyes, and I almost feel guilty for it. The emotion is lighter than what I have felt recently, and I am not sure I am entirely ready for it. There is little time for me to consider it, however, as he elaborates. Or, at least, attempts to. His fumbling words allow a small smile to cross my lips, kind and gentle in its contours. I suppose my arrival took him by surprise, he did seem quite enraptured in what he was doing, and I can't help but admire him for it.

    I was never enthralled by my chosen path of study, the art of healing was something I had chosen because my father had willed me to. In saying that, I was fairly accomplished in my art, receiving the rank magic and studying under the wise eye of Onni, who was always such a natural at all things healing. I had always wanted to follow in my father's hoofsteps, to fight and defend my home, to perhaps rise to the rank of General, to lead and teach others how they could defend not only themselves but that which they held dear too.

    How could I deem myself worthy of such a goal, such a rank, now, when I had failed to defend you?

    He mentions that he is from the World's Edge, and without even meaning to, I allow my glance to drift to the cliff that shadows the northern end of the beach whose very sands I was born upon. As he continues to speak, revealing, perhaps by accident, his insecurities in himself, I feel for him. I remember being in a similar position, one that I wasn't entirely comfortable with but slowly coming to grips with. The smile upon my façade only glows with more genuine determination, and I decide, as fumbling and bumbling he seems to be, he is almost, cute. I wasn't attracted to him physically, but even though he tripped over his words and explanations, there was something genuine and true about him, something that hinted even if he wanted to lie, he wouldn't be very good at it. Perhaps it was a naivety I recognised within him, one that I knew existed within myself.. Or one that used to, at least.

    "I did mean the wood," I admit softly, feeling so bold as to take a step closer to him, my eyes focussed upon the rope he had dangled before me. "But everything else is fascinating nonetheless," I add, trying to soften the blow of his mistake. It wasn't a true mistake anyway - he wouldn't be the first one to function less-than-appropriately in a social situation. I remember with some guilt, my methods as a healer, of attempting to get a patient to call down, simply giving up and telling them to shut up.. We were all put here to learn and grow, were we not?

    "What.. Would you use all of it for?" My curiosity is genuine, and I hope I am not overstepping the social bounds I had just observed before.. I am surprised to find myself hopeful to have made a friend in this odd, different and yet delightfully refreshing steed.


    @[Dragomir] :D whee random table change~
    Cirrus
    the Wind Dancer
    x - x
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Dragomir Posts: 275
    World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Bunnie
    #5

    D R A G O M I R
    oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
    chasing the lies that no one believes...
    She is friendly enough, he gladly takes note of, observing the lightening of her eyes at his fumbling words but also seeing a sadness in their depths as she casts their weight out towards the Edge. That she knows his home fills him with some pride, and wonder as to whether or not she was once one of them too – and, if that had been the case, why she was no more. He takes in her scent again with all the secrecy he can muster and discovers that she smells like no where at all, as if she lives in the wind and truly is the sky as he first thought her to be.

    What a strange woman.

    When she looks back to him she’s smiling, and he can’t help but return the gesture but finds it falling as soon as she admits to him that he supplied all the wrong answers before landing on the right one. His grimace of failure is short lived, however, as the sky painted mare admits that all of it was interesting and in thus must have been pertinent to the inquiry in some way. He often, at these moments, finds himself wondering why his parents hadn’t taught him more of their eloquence, neither of the once leaders having stumbled on their tongues as often as he found himself.

    She says all this as she walks closer, the stallion eyeing her with the usual reservation that he regards all strange things with but feeling less of the usual rush of anxiety flood him, his experiences in Helovia having deepened his resolve against the fear of the unknown and the cleansing water of his home having stripped him of most notions that the winged and horned would kill him as soon as learn his name. The world, for all his parents had said it would be, was not so; most he had found here were kind, especially those of the Edge, so wonderful each soul that he often found himself feeling as if he was not truly meant to be among them, if Mirage had been wrong by thinking he might belong.

    Still, he is here doing work for them, in a position of great honor. He knows he should not doubt himself so much when it is obvious they see value in him – but he worries none the less.

    What she asks him causes a brightness to flood his gaze and all worry to vanish beneath the undulating enthusiasm he feels when he thinks of his projects and the security he has found in creating things. It was one aspect of life he could completely control – the glass never did anything but what he asked it to, and while the rope was not of magical nature and thus more prone to failure on his behalf, he had thoroughly enjoyed the learning and work he had put into the straps he now wore across his back. That the mare (who is quite smaller than him, he finally notices now that he has something to focus on other than the massive breadth of her wings) wants to know about it invokes the same reaction from him it always does.

    A lot of words.

    "So many things," he says wistfully, "it carries a lot more weight than the vine does naturally, and so it makes excellent carrying straps. I also figured it could be used in combination with slats of flat bark or stone to create stacked storage surfaces by simply tying the ropes to a high branch and running the rope through holes on the end of each tier, knotting it in places to hold them fast at the height they require. The sap stiffens it and holds the ends in place. Its theoretical that the rope could be woven over a chunk of glass and covered in sap then slowly heated to hardness – I could go back and remove the glass to leave a receptacle." And so it continues, his deep voice rumbling and brusque in comparison to his usual cheerful but droll way of speaking. "Of course if it can make baskets it should also make nets. I’ll need to learn how to weave those, if I ever figure out how to lessen the width of the rope without loosing the strength. That then leads to jewelry and other more delicate things as well…"

    He realizes he is rambling, his smile growing wry and aware as his crystal gaze twinkles in apology. "Many things," he says again with a laugh.

    @[Cirrus]
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    Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #6
    Images of my father float through my mind. His passion for life, his dedication to his family, his herd, his duty. The admiring glances that used to be given to him, the training and guidance he used to provide, the sheer ownership of his position as General that he embraced. It was why I had wanted to be a warrior, why, even as a weanling I had attended his training days and put myself through his exercises. I craved his passion, his determination, his comfort in the knowledge of where he belonged.

    Where did a broken soul like me belong?

    Perhaps this was why I liked him, why I felt drawn to him. It was not necessarily him I liked, but the passion and excitement he displayed for his rank. He knew his duties, and while he did not hold the confidence in himself consistently, when he did truly embrace his work, he was passionate about them. I could not help the smile that danced across my lips, the admiration behind my amusement, the polite curiosity that kept me listening.

    He mentions many things, a lot of them I barely see the use for even as he insists they are useful, some things I concede make sense. I was a creature who lived in the skies, if I could live on the wind and rain alone I would. The only use the ground held for me was a source of food and water - such things as shelves and ropes and nets and jewellery were simply, unnecessary.

    But maybe not to everyone.

    It was understandable, I suppose, that one who resided in a herd, who decidedly stayed where they were, could find use in such things. And while jewellery didn't appeal to me, it might appeal to some - some who were willing to trade services in exchange for it. I never truly appreciated a crafter's job, but I was beginning to see just how useful they could be. I thought of the wall that circumvented my own home land, with its draconic gate and metal holdings. I remembered flying over the wall that rimmed the Edge's land, -and again, my gaze flicked towards the outcropping of land that held the home of this Dragomir.

    I sighed quietly, before returning my gaze to Dragomir as he laughed away the end of his explanation. My smile had not faded, my genuine interest still shining as my shimmering blue pools held his own. "Many things." I repeat, the laughter in my voice akin with his. I was glad he had not rejected my interest, but instead, shown me just how interesting it could be. This was the first social interaction I had had in a long time that I could probably call normal, at least since you left me.

    "I've seen mares' manes done in strange braids before.. I think their companions might have helped them. A gryphon or a dragon perhaps, with dextrous claws, could help to create similar ties in your ropes." The thought came to be unrestrained, unfiltered, and spilled out all over my tongue with such speed that my mind barely had a chance to register its existence. The surprise is even written upon my face, surprise at my own idea, at my own attempt of holding some kind of knowledge in the crafting realm. My gaze becomes questioning, almost hopeful, as it considers the painted steed once more.

    @[Dragomir] sorry for the wait!!
    Cirrus
    the Wind Dancer
    x - x
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Dragomir Posts: 275
    World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Bunnie
    #7

    D R A G O M I R
    oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
    chasing the lies that no one believes...
    He’s glad to find that she’s still smiling and not offended that he has just rattled on and on about rope and trinkets, and their shared laughter is pleasant and uplifting to the awkward male who expects most to reject him. It’s an odd part of him, truly, for few have shunned his presence but for those he’d lost his temper on, and even those encounters had left him feeling guilty in more ways than one.

    She adds her insight to the onslaught that had spewed from his mouth which broadens his grin and sends a hidden pang through him that he still hasn’t bonded with a dragon of his own, but he does know plenty of the bonded dragons in the Edge through his relationships with their masters. It is a good theory, one that could prove useful when he sets to working on his more fine strands of rope for the making of jewelry twine. He almost chuckles at the amusing rush of wonder that sweeps the strange mare’s face at her own words, humored by the fact that he had driven her mind to create thoughts she didn’t know she could have.

    It felt good to see his own passion spreading out into someone he’d just met, and he nods vigorously in agreement that her idea is a good one. "I hadn’t ever thought of that, but it would make it a lot easier," he chuckles in good humor of himself, always thinking but never thinking of it all, his thoughts slipping back to Semira and her mention of making musical instruments – another idea that had come from a woman that was surely useful, "my other methods have thus far failed." He frowns and his eyes wander upwards to the skies for a moment before he hums a low sound in his throat and returns his eyes back to the winged stranger with his smile back in place.

    "I’m Dragomir, by the way," his white streaked tail snaps at his sides to ward away the audacious insects that try to bite at his flesh.
    @[Cirrus]
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    Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #8
    It was odd, the feeling that I needed this strangers approval suddenly. That he might consider my idea silly, stupid, useless, that he might disregard it completely suddenly filled me with a sense of deep-seeded doubt. The feeling consumed me, and though I didn't outwardly change, I felt wound up tight, nervous, anxious to know what his thoughts on the matter would be. To be rejected by a complete stranger - why did it suddenly matter so much? No matter what we discussed here today, all I was bound to do afterwards was carry on with my simple life, and he with his. Why would holding his approval (or disapproval) change that? Why did it consume my every thought, make me want to research further into his field so that I could impress him with my knowledge, knowledge that I have yet previously held no desire for?

    But he nods, enthusiastically confirming that my idea was not simply a farfetched, passing thought, but an actual, potentially useful one. I smile now, my surprise chased away by the reassurance of his deep voice and the low, mumbling hum that resonates from his throat. He surprises me again by then informing me of his name, and my ears bounce to alertness to capture it. Dragomir, and as he says it, I wonder at whether his parents named him in hopes of him one day bonding to the draconic creatures only an equine's soul was conditioned to accept. I hadn't had terribly much exposure to them, but enough to hold a wary admiration for them - I could only imagine the bond that occurred between they and their equine counterparts were similar to that which once tied us together.

    "Cirrus," I say by way of reply, muscles twitching along my back, as with the prolonged period of standing idle, the insectile inhabitants of this beach have decided to finally settle upon us. A foreleg shifts in the sand as a particularly insistent bug attempts to gnaw at my skin. I frown a little, though the insects have succeeded in giving me yet another distraction from my misery, and fear of rejection. "Want to swim?" I lift my gaze once more, looking at Dragomir, the query alight behind my eyes. "It'd help get rid of the insects." I add, realising belatedly that my query probably sounded random to one not tuned directly into my thoughts. My bodice turns towards the shifting shoreline, my hooves sinking further as the sand I walk on becomes more wet, as waves begin to lap at my pasterns and the spray of the ocean darkens my cloud-painted hide.

    I smile over my shoulder at him, inviting him to take a break from his collection of things and simply enjoy the simple pleasures of life by an ocean.


    @[Dragomir]
    Cirrus
    the Wind Dancer
    x - x
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Dragomir Posts: 275
    World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Bunnie
    #9

    D R A G O M I R
    oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
    chasing the lies that no one believes...
    She is called Cirrus, a strange name that makes him think of the very clouds with which she is painted, as she says it he runs his eyes again across the painted mirror that is her pelt, fascinated more so than he had been made nervous at her first arrival now that the conversation has settled into friendly words and the moments beyond the first few awkward minutes of the realization she was not a threat to him. She’s still odd, to be sure, and not the sort of girl his father would approve of as his son’s company, but Dragomir feels less and less worried about what Adalwulf would think the longer he is in the land called Helovia.

    The land itself forced such notions as racism from the minds of young wanderers, at least in his case; there was simply too much to negate what he had been taught within the confines of the Edge, much less once he’d started his ventures across its wide, wild face. The idea that one species held power over another became more and more diluted the more he learned of the three-breed Gods and the closer he grew to his herd mates, many of whom were not equine – but were also not evil or cruel, wild and without intelligence as he had been warned.

    Her question draws a happy grin to the mouth of the young stallion, his eyes drifting over to the sea and ushering in a hundred memories of splashing through the shallows with wild dragons dipping through the air above him, occasionally splashing down to rise into the heavens with a flailing fish caught in their talons. He doesn’t need the additional logic of warding away bugs to nod vigorously his yes, because the idea of playing was one that delighted him and an activity he had participated in hardly at all since he’d come to Helovia (unless he was with Semira – she seemed to make everything into a game).

    She doesn’t wait for him to follow before she is heading to the water, the stallion wondering in his thoughts as to how her wings would be affected by the liquid; some winged things couldn’t fly with dampened appendages, and he has had little experiences with pegasi to know the outcome of a swim on their ability to fly. It’s a comforting thought to think that, maybe, she’d be land bound afterwards, and that by submerging herself and loosing her ability to take to the skies, she was displaying a level of trust towards the stallion that he rarely gave to others, much less expected. It left him with a warm feeling in his heart as he lowered his muzzle and allowed the ropes and the wood to clunk over his whithers and into the sand, bulky frame bursting from his solitary position once he has rid himself of his cumbersome carrying tools, leaping into the ocean at a bounding canter with a smile plastered all across his simple features.

    The water is wonderful, instantly ridding his flesh of the gritty sand that has collected on his legs and belly from his wandering of the beach, the salty scent pungent in his nostrils as it bends with the smell of fish and seaweed; his tail floats along behind him, a black and white streak that bobs and ebbs with the wake, and a robust laugh breaks into the air as a small wave rises up and dunks his head underwater for a brief moment.

    His hooves can still feel the squishy bottom of the shoreline, but just barely so; if he was to venture forward another few paces, he’d be left to only his own strength to remain abreast the sea. Instead, he pivots to head down the water, shaking his head to send myriad droplets glittering through the air, landing with plinks and plops among the surging sound of water dividing to allow him to pass.

    Suddenly, he halts his progression and sends his muzzle hard into the water and towards the pegasus mare, his laughter still hovering on a genial face as he attempts to splash the mare named Cirrus.


    @[Cirrus]
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    Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #10
    The Glazier joins me, and I find myself plunging forth into the waves with a joyous kick of my feet, attacking the ebbing liquid with enthusiasm. I feel myself become weighed down as the long strands of my tail become waterlogged and heavy, but I use it as an exercise to strengthen my haunches, lifting and swinging my long tail though the water instead of letting it drag along the ocean's sandy base. My wings lift high, though feather still get damp - droplets roll off them, repelled by the dander that coats all feathered creatures, through with the prolonged submergence they too eventually soak in the liquid. The fact that flight is less of an option now does not trouble me - I find myself trusting this steed, perhaps because I feel I could take him on if a physical altercation arose or because I felt he was an honest worker of the Edge, a herd I once knew to be peaceful. Either way, I was unconcerned with the need to flee to the skies in the immediate future.

    As the water lapped further and further up the sides of my barrel, I revelled in the sensation of washing away the dust and grime that had been building up across my hide. As the ocean engulfed my withers, I laughed as Dragomir did, with my wings sticking up from the great blue, dark pillars of feathers that glittered with the splashing and crashing waves. I toss my damp forelock from my eyes and do similar to he, dipping my nose into the water and leaning back on my hocks. As I rise and spin, my wings flap, sending a broad spray of droplets across the vicinity, before pushing myself now towards the shore and the painted hide of the steed. I laugh as his muzzle encourages more droplets to cascade towards me, and I do similar, only I use my wings, skirting them along the surface of the water before surging them upwards and towards him, a broad grin upon my maw.

    It is times like these, when I am filled with such careless happiness, that I am then hit with a truckload of guilt.

    Your absence burns through me, suddenly and all-consumingly. I shudder to an abrupt halt in my motions, my bodice tremoring in the shallows of the beach. Perhaps it looks as if I have run out of breath, or swallowed copious amounts of water - I would gladly do any of those things and more than to face the reality of the horrible thing that was actually the cause of my sudden shift in perspective. I coughed and spluttered, interrupting a laugh, my wings drooping by my sides as the realisation of your absence once again swallows me whole. The coughs turn into sobs, and it isn't the first time recently I have had such a shift.

    My eyes blink as they peer down at the water that swirls between my dark forelegs, my tail dragging along the sand basin behind me, my entire body shaking with the effort of crying, and trying to hide said crying. Normally I would worry at what he would think of me, but right now, all I can do is think of you, your smile, your howl, your dazzling blue flames.. I think of them, I remember them, and I miss them terribly. Sitka, how can I ever be happy without you by my side?

    @[Dragomir]
    Cirrus
    the Wind Dancer
    x - x
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Dragomir Posts: 275
    World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Bunnie
    #11

    D R A G O M I R
    oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
    chasing the lies that no one believes...
    Taking the face-full of water that Cirrus claps up towards him with her wings, he can’t help but think that she has an unfair advantage in this game of splashing. His nose and legs can’t move that much water at once, and as the waves roll across his body and he bobs like a tricolored cork, he takes in the sound of her laughter and decides he doesn’t mind. Its just a slight advantage, anyway – he’s stronger than he is and seems to be able to cut the water better than she can, though she is more bold and had swam further out than he would ever dare before having looped back around to play with him.

    He ignores the notion that it’s a game at all (no matter that it is), disliking the child-like sound of the word and deciding in his mind that it is only a brief escape from the confines of adulthood, a glimpse into the bright spring of his life before he was forced back into its summer. Pushing his hind hooves into the soupy sand beneath the water, he propels his body through the water, languid and slow despite the power of his push, forelegs tucked up to his chest and hooves flicking upwards to send another sheet of water playfully pattering towards his newfound friend.

    Yet, even before the water reaches her, her smile has fallen and she seems to fold in on herself, as if made of paper and finally overcome by the water that saturates her. Limp, her wings drip to either side of her, and a faint trembling overcomes her skin that the sensitive stallion takes note of most immediately; with a rush of concern sweeping his features he busies his hooves in the water to carry him quickly towards her side, wondering if she has breathed in some of the sea or has hurt herself on an unseen boulder or submerged branch.

    She’s choking when he reaches her, a horrible sound that turns into sobs that flip his heart inside out.

    The wind picks up around them, making the water cold where it streaks down his pelt and back into the ocean where it had been borrowed from. His blue eyes are crinkled beneath brown lids in worry, his dark muzzle reaching out tentatively towards the woman he barely knows but does not wish to see so sad.

    "Cirrus?" he asks, many questions folded neatly into her name and held back for fear of making her crying worse, and while he hesitantly and fretfully hovers about her, the worries cascade through his mind and stumble upon on another as his hooves do in the clear, warm water below,
    "Cirrus...are you okay? Let’s get out of the water. Did you breath some on accident?" Gently, he walks alongside her, placing his bulk nearby enough to be a guide and a shoulder to lean on if she wishes it, but his worries that she is drowning on swallowed water flit like deranged flies through his thoughts and the deeper ones that he has offended her somehow ping and patter in his thoughts like a freed maelstrom of bullets and hail.

    He won’t leave her here if she doesn’t follow, but he’d certainly feel better to have her safely on the sand.

    @[Cirrus]
    Wishlist | Table Tracker  

    Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #12
    Weakness. I felt it shake me, shatter my resolve, break down the levy banks that I had built up against the flood of horror and torment that swirled out of control within me. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and it was unlikely to be the last, still raw was the wound that your absence, your death inflicted upon my soul. I am broken without you, lost, adrift, and whenever I think I find my footing, I remember that you are no longer there to be my shadow, to light my way, to support my soul. How was I meant to live without you? How was I meant to go on, to find happiness again, and even if happiness came across me, how was I meant to enjoy it without feeling the guilt of your absence pulling me back into the darkness?

    Were you happy wherever you were, Sitka?

    I feel the warm shoulder of the stallion beside me, and though my initial instinct screams at me to recoil and pull away, I find myself clinging to the touch, wanting it, holding onto it, willing it never to go. With my eyes shut, I can pretend that his touch is my father's, that his voice, as it asks after my wellbeing, it the Ardent's warm and caring tones. I let him lead me from the ocean, my limbs shakily carrying my weight onto the drier sand, my bodice becoming patterned with said sand as it was lifted up by the wind that my agitation summoned, and spattered across my wet self. Anxiety crept into me then, a need to keep moving, to run away -but my wings were drowned, flightless, my limbs still shaking from the sobs that rattled me, my breathing still laboured and heavily. Running wasn't going to happen for a while.

    "Yes," I said, clinging to the excuses he offered, refusing to let him know the horrible truth behind my crippling depression. I coughed and spluttered, and though tears still streamed down my façade, they slowed as I shook my tiara to and fro, pressing my eyes shut against the constant flow of saline drops. "Damn wave caught me off guard," I add, snorting roughly and coughing some more. The actions weren't entirely fake - apparently crying your heart out is similar to swallowing half an ocean by accident.

    "Th.. Thank you." I say, eyes opening and blinking as they tried to lock onto the stallion's own, m tiara nodding, supporting the gratitude I was trying to convey. "I'll be okay.." my voice murmurs, though I don't know who I was trying to convince - Dragomir or myself.


    @[Dragomir]
    Cirrus
    the Wind Dancer
    x - x
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Dragomir Posts: 275
    World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Bunnie
    #13

    D R A G O M I R
    oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
    chasing the lies that no one believes...
    The wind came harder, the water rough against them as they shuffled towards the shore; in normal circumstances, he would be frightened by a woman who churned storms with her tears, or by being within the sea when it began to quake and toss beneath rising gales, but in this instance he is filled with the need to get the weeping mare to the shore and forgets himself for long enough to reach the sand and safety before worry for his life can clutch at his heart.

    She leans against him as the sand buffets their legs, riled by the winds that have seemingly risen with the sounds of her sobs, and for a few moments there is only silence, and the howl of Cirrus’s wind and tears. But she answers him, after a time, a single ear tilting downward to catch her excuse.

    It’s play off of his earlier questions, and not all that believable – but he takes in her coughs and sputters and decides that maybe swallowing some water was part of a deeper problem. Maybe the salt had burned her heart on the way down, where life had worn it raw. It was easy for the young man to justify depressions and random crying fits born from an emotional pain when he kept his own quiet sorrows, and while he rarely let them escape as the mare alongside him now did, he was envious of those who could find a passage through which their sadness can vent.

    It seems his only wells within.

    She meets his eyes with her own tear blurred and blinking ones, and he tries to smile for her sake though it comes out rather worried and lack luster.

    "Hey, I know it’s none of my business," he says, "but it must be lonely living alone in the wilds." It’s a slight probe at what might be an underlying issue, but its also one that bothers him anytime he runs across a vagrant soul, someone without a family or herd to turn to. He had once spent an afternoon talking Ranjiri into going home. He could do the same for Cirrus, if it would help. He’d only just met her, but he rather liked her; she was kind, a rare facet to be found in strangers. "If, uh, if you ever need a place to ground yourself for a while, I’m sure Kahlua wouldn’t mind you crashing in the Edge a few days," he smiles, a soft and warm thing born of thoughts of his herd mates and the offer that had been shared between Ranjiri and himself (a promise of shelter, of kinship and trust), "I’ve made a lot of friends there. They’re good people."

    @[Cirrus]
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    Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #14
    He speaks of being alone, and I cannot help but cough out a chocked laugh at the words. Yes, it was lonely living in the wilds, but that was the idea. I couldn't bear to be around others, not when everything was still so ridiculously raw, so open, not when I was so weak I couldn't even enjoy a swim at the beach without feeling a tidal wave of guilt just about knocking me over. Perhaps, in time, I would be able to interact normally again.. But what if I never did?

    He keeps talking, only this time I give him half an ear's worth of attention instead of my entire captivated attention. He talks of the World's Edge, and my gaze drunkenly makes its way to the cliff that stands tall and domineering in the distance. He mentions a name I don't recognise, a Kahlua who I assume is the newest ascendant to power in the lands - it only serves to remind me how absent I've been, how much I have missed. Gone are the times when I had earned myself respect in the herd, so much so that Kri and I had travelled together, to meet with high-ranking delegates from herds all over. Gone are the times when others would call my name, seeking my skills as a Healer, or more rarely, a defender of the borders. Gone are the times when I was recognised by an entire herd.

    Gone are the times when you and I shared a soul.

    Would those times ever return?

    A shaky sob catches me off-guard again, as I blink back the tears that tried once again to well up behind the sharp cerulean orbs of my eyes. I shuffle my wings closer to my hide, and I attempt to pull the wind into line - the last thing we needed now was a summer hurricane destroying the beach through my careless, thoughtless loss of control. It settles, slowly, slipping occasionally from my grasp like a bar of soap in wet hands. I breathe in, shutting my eyes against the world, and seemingly rebalancing myself again.

    "Thanks," I say quietly, after I've spent a handful of moments finding my equilibrium again. I open my eyes, and I look to the painted steed with sincere gratitude. He had no cause to be so kind to me, to offer me refuge in his home. Perhaps I would think him foolish - if I wasn't so tempted to take him up on his offer. But I couldn't, I simply could not commit to meeting an entire new herd, whether for a short stay or to take up permanent residence.. Not yet. Not so soon after.. Everything.

    "Another time," I say quietly, sadly, sighing after I spoke, wishing my words wouldn't cause hurt and disappointment but afraid and resigned that they will do just that anyway. "I'll definitely visit you, sometime." My maw curves in a small, lopsided grin as I consider him through a tilted gaze. I move to press my maw against his, to gently hold a form contact for several seconds, so that we might, for those moments, share the same breath, and feel the world around us in the same way. "Thank you," I say it again, though I do not dare elaborate the full extent as to why I am so grateful. "You're very kind." I add, somewhat lamely, pulling myself back into my own space and turning my gaze out over the expanse of the ocean - halfheartedly, I wished that my wings were strong enough to carry me to whatever laid beyond that horizon.

    And then the other half was glad that my wings would take the rest of the day to become dry enough to take flight again, so that enough time would pass for me to realise that I could never leave Helovia again.

    @[Dragomir]
    Cirrus
    the Wind Dancer
    sxc.hu | larfsalot
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Dragomir Posts: 275
    World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Bunnie
    #15

    D R A G O M I R
    oceans arise, washing over me; cold company, dark shades of harmony.
    chasing the lies that no one believes...
    She sobs again, and he instantly goes back to his hovering from a distance with his fretful eyes and frowning face. The wind is almost unnoticed, tousling his wet mane into individual thick ropes (though the unkempt state of the thing leant to such occurrences naturally) and tickling the soft flesh of his neck.

    He’s not really very good with crying girls, but he does try. That his words have made her almost cry again is distressing – he instantly regrets his offer even if the next word is thanks.

    How lonely must she really be if even the thought of not being alone anymore was so painful? What had she done to be so hidden from others, who had she been in her life before now? He remembered his first few weeks after he’d assaulted Shadow, hiding in the outskirts of the Edge and pondering just disappearing for the betterment of them all.

    He looks at her with a new soft sadness, a realization and possible answer coming to his mind that is a terrible one, one he had narrowly avoided himself and which he buried away in shame, in horror of who he could be, of what he had been in that moment and the beasts that lay so close beneath the surface.

    She’s looking back at him, though, and he doesn’t want to talk about what he’s just thought of anymore than she wants to talk of what truly has left her soul so broken; he hides the bleak thoughts behind a smile, a faint thing that hovers meekly on his lips. He knows it’s not always easy to change your life around, but her simple offer to visit him is a cheerful one, an odd occurrence considering she wears wings – but he does wear the feather of another mare, one who calls herself his friend.

    Is it redemption enough for him?

    Her nose is suddenly next to his, and a sudden shiver of anxiety wracks him where only worry had resided before. His eyes widen, his muscles bunch, but he does manage to hold his muzzle fast where it is though his ears splay backwards in inexplicable, illogical terror of being so near to someone else.

    She smells like wind, skies, like clouds and rain and snow, saturated in the salt of the sea and saline in her tears, and her breath is warm and pleasant as he shares his own with her.

    When she pulls away she’s awkward more than sad with her thanks and complements; he finds himself smiling despite the fact that his ears are still partially backwards and he likely looks like a total moron.

    "Thanks," he says, clearing his throat gruffly as he relinquishes the stiffness in his muscles and his face manages to return to its normal placidity, "it rubs off on you living in that forest." His laugh is rich and full, one of the few true ones he’s let loose into the wind since coming to this land – but despite the sadness of the girl who’d found him on the beach and the usual heavy thoughts he carried around with him, he can’t help but laugh as he pokes fun at the cheerful band who have stolen his heart.

    And somehow, he thinks Cirrus needs it right now, too.

    @[Cirrus]
    Wishlist | Table Tracker  

    Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3


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