How did I come to be? How did this all happen? I don't understand. I don't understand Sitka. This cannot be.. and yet, your tail lays limp before me. Your mouth ajar, your eyes blank, your body motionless. Your throat will never hum again, will it? Nevermore will I hear a song of mourning, of joy, of sheer and utter recklessness spill from your lips. Never again will I feel the rough scrape of your claws as you scramble grumpily upon my back so that we might travel faster. Never again will I feel the soothing embrace of your voice wrap around the shattered innards of my soul.. Sitka. No. I will not believe it..

My nose presses against your flesh, it wrinkles against the stench of the beast whose horn penetrated your heart - but not before your teeth had crushed its throat. It was of porcine descent, and that was all I cared to learn of it. My eyes crawl over you, rimmed with tears that I soon feel falling against my skin as well. As water falls, it pools, and fills with the crimson life source that so recently was contained within your veins. As you drift further and further away from me, I feel everything within me quake, and shatter.

No... I want to deny it, to close my eyes and forget it. I shiver against the cold that closes in around me, knowing somewhere in my mind that it is my own fault - I have lost control of my magic again - but not caring. how could I care about something like that, when I was faced with this?

Sitka, you can't be gone. I clutch your drenched fur in my strong jaws and shake you, but you merely fall limp at my forefeet, dislodged from the wretched beast that killed you, now sprawled out in front of me, broken and.. and, dead.

I turn away.

---

Are you proud of me, mother? Father? Sister? I fled those wretched lands when death seemed to rise up and possess those I would call comrades, I did the same as you, father. I turned my back on my family and I ran. And for what good? I survived, at least physically. I'm still here, walking this earth, flying in these skies, taking foul weather with me wherever I go. Some days I would feel a storm stir, and I never knew whether it was of my own doing or the actual god-given weather. With the wind forever lifting my wings when needed, I would allow it to wash over me, to drench me to the point where even magic could not lift my sodden feathers. But always, I seemed to land somewhat safely, whole and at most, bruised from my death-defying efforts.

There is a gaping hole within me. Part of me has died, it has ventured to wherever you went, Sitka. I can't even count the days, weeks, months since your passing anymore. All I know is that I am no longer whole, and any interaction with others has left me either fleeing their presence or doing something that causes them to flee mine. I don't know how to exist, to function, without you.

Somehow, my hooves find traction in the Meadow. I remember it, for it was a land I frequented when I lived here. A snort passes through my nostrils as I breathe in the summery air, though a hot breeze buffets me soon after - my magic reminding me of its eternal presence. My elongated tail sweeaps across the dry grasses, the sun shines overhead - my hide is a brilliant sky blue, reflecting the cloudless expanse above me. My tiara lifts, my nose pointing south, towards where I was raised. But it was also where death occurred.. and right then, I didn't know what I wanted.

Why did I return here? To face the demons, the wraiths who had plundered the souls of those I once knew? To be taken by them, so that I might join those I have lost in whatever afterlife existed?

But there is no death upon the wind, there is only new life..

Compared to the freshness of the world around me, I am the rotten corpse.

I wonder if I will ever truly live again.


[ Open for anyone :3 ]

It always was the way in Helovia. Never could one simply be alone. I never was alone, when you were by my side. I miss you, Sitka. Sometimes I yearn for you, to refill that gaping hole in my heart, but then I have to wonder, even if you did return, would we be the same as before? Would you simply be able to meld your mind with mine, your heart and soul and very being with mine own? A shiver twitches at my shoulder at the thought, though no cold weather falls upon me to give any outside physical cue. There is no point moping over it, is there, Sitka?

Do you still think of me, wherever you are, Sitka?

It is not long before a steed lumbers his way towards me. A land-dweller, and I shuffle my wings closer to my body to indicate I wasn't about to fly away should he long to shoo me away. But he seems to caught up with looking this way and that to really notice anything about me - aside from the magic that reflects the sky unto my skin, of course. What catches my eyes about him, isn't actually about him at all. It's the hound that wanders near him, the youthful pup who is cloaked in darkness, whose species I have no trouble identifying. Hellhound, I recall instantly, and can't help but compare her to you, Sitka. She is not in your class, you were more athletic, more marked with the elements that you controlled, simply more.

My sharp, cerulean gaze fixates upon her, as my nostrils attempt to dissect the air the way yours once did. I smell the acidity of her element, but there is something else too, something heady and heavy, damp and -I realise it is the stallion, whose breath reeks of something off. I don't have long to ponder the cause of it before his words, tainted by that breath, spill forth and voice the observation that is my colouring. I am almost surprised that a Helovian would find this novel, for with my birth here, my upbringing, I easily accept the strange, the weird and wonderful variety of life the gods have blessed to live upon this earth.

"Well spotted." I murmur, my lip bending ever so slightly into something softer, though the expression doesn't reach my eyes, as my attention turns briefly to the canine again, and then to a youthful, feminine voice. I can't help but wonder about all the horns around here - did the unicorns from the north succeed in their invasion? Have I wandered into a Helovia that only allows unicorns to roam and live? Or is it mere coincidence that the two lifeforms I happen to meet upon my return are of the horned variety? Perhaps if you were with me, Sitka, you would tell me that this young belle is only a halfblood, a hybrid, but I do not focus my olfactory system enough upon her to discern such details.

Are you alright? I could almost laugh at her question, the hysteria within me curdled by the fact that she then proceeds to claim her home. The Throat, the place named for the heat that pours from a dragon's maw, the sandy refuge that holds much and more about my past than I care to think of. As it is, I feel that curve deepen upon my lips, and a sound escapes my maw, one that reflects the ramshackle mess within me that is my emotional turmoil. It is a strange gurgled laugh, and it only lasts a second or two before I shake my maw at the atrocity of it all. Of course they would find me. The past has a way of catching up with the present - I suppose I had just falsely hoped it would leave me the fuck alone.

"I'm fine," I say, turning my tiara so that I might behold each of those who have decided to join me within differing pupils. A small, soft, white cloud has formed in the heavens above us - I know this without even tearing my gaze to look upwards, for it etches itself across my pelt in a way that I simply know it's there. I feel its power, the moisture gathering - the humidity has risen ever so slightly in the seconds since the young belle asked her question. How on earth do I even begin to explain all that I've been through?

Do I even bother?

"The Dragon's Throat, huh? Sounds hot." I add, a wink clicking an eyelid shut over my right eye, the one in sight of this Sia. "So," I begin again, turning my chiseled crown to view the heavy stallion more closely again, if only to see his canine companion which so painfully reminds me of you. My voice falters a moment as my breath catches again - I will get over this one day, won't I? - but I press on with my cavalier facade. "Who are you?"

@[Rostislav] let me know if you don't want to be tagged every reply c:

Damaris. I cling to the name, for it allows me to cling to your memory. Not that I ever could forget you, my beloved Sitka. I notice the shift in the stallion's posture, the stiffening, the protective, comforting mental check-in he performs with her. I know the feeling well, and I mourn at the loss of it. To have someone right there, their soul rubbing alongside your own, carrying yours, embracing it and becoming so entwined that once the bond is broken by death.. You are left incomplete in its wake. I shiver again, the tremor rubbing down my spine as I force myself to look away from the hound at last, to focus upon the stallion and his words. The filly remains quiet for now, or at least she does not do anything to grab my attention away from the stallion.

He informs me that it is 'my turn', and now, a genuine, devious smile curves my lips, the mischievousness of it reaching my eyes true and proper this time. My own posture softens as I bend slightly away from the steed, my curvaceous body taking on an appalled façade, as I swiftly replace the smile with a mocking look of pure surprise. "My turn for what?" I ask, feigning innocence with a think veil of sarcasm. I was never one to introduce myself first, never one to give away information to those I felt hadn't necessarily earned it first.

I felt the wind shift around me, and noticed the cloud above us slowly gathering in magnitude. It was subtle still, however, and I wondered whether the others would notice. My experiences with my own magic recently had been.. Unstable.

Replacing that easy, devious grin, I take a step towards the large steed, my nose tilted in towards him as my hooves aim to sketch a circular path around to his right. I wondered at his past, at who he was, and not just his name, but his very identity. But, I wasn't interested in divulging anything regarding myself, so I could hardly blame him for keeping his secrets.

Didn't mean I wasn't up for the challenge of trying.

"What would you like me to be called?" I ask coyly, revealing that I did indeed know and understand what he was asking, but choosing to dance over the subject - the fewer people who knew about my existence, at this stage, the better.

@[Rostislav] c:

I have his attention, and it sends a wave of vindictive satisfaction through me. My tail swishes to and fro, my cerulean eyes hoping to hold his own in a hypnotic trance. I don't even know why - I have never been sexually attracted to anything, and this was no exception. I suppose I wanted to test the waters, to see just how much I could wilfully manipulate another.. And I didn't even know why I wanted to try. I needed to hide myself, and why couldn't I do that by putting on a front that was so far away from what I used to be, so that no-one would suspect I was once the sky-blessed filly with a hellhound always on her heels? The smile upon my maw takes on a devious curve, my eyes flutter beneath dark, long lashes, my darkened forelock tickling my brow as my neck arcs to accentuate the chiselled contours of my crown.

The wind continues to blow, a persistent breeze that seems to swell from the back of my mind, tugging at the tendrils of hair decorating my leonine tail and curvaceous nape. My feathers ruffle as my wings lift slightly from my sides, revealing further the pattern of clouds gathering and moving across my hide. Fat, heavy droplets of rain begin, slowly, each one separated by a few seconds before the next formed.

It made me feel alive.

His tail comes near my forelegs, and my smirk deepens, a knowing glance thrown at him - though in truth, I know nothing of the sexual connotations being stirred up. "Lady isn't exactly an accurate word to use when describing me." I turn away from him, purposefully ensuring my limbs do not become entangled in the sweep of his tail. As I bend away, I peer over my shoulder and wing, now swinging my long tail back so that it might brush against his own. A low, seraphic laugh murmurs from my throat, as I add tantalisingly, "wouldn't you agree?" Just to test how far I have got him, I take three strides forward, my motions a smooth, long trot, my wings beating half-heartedly at my sides. For the moment, my focus does not sit upon the hellhound that is his companion, and while you are always at the back of my mind, Sitka, I happily allow myself to get lost in this persona, this character, and simply go with it.

All the while, the raincloud grows above us.


@[Rostislav] sorry for the wait

I did not know my grandmother, but the stories my father told me of her were clear in my mind. She was a leader, a protector and defender, she took no bullshit and she dished plenty out. She knew how to get what she wanted in a male-dominated world, she knew how to use her body to manipulate and lead those around her. Mostly, she was a competent warrior who had proven herself in battle, earning herself the title of FIreSlayer when she struck down Ignatius the FireSword, in a battle of epic proportions. There was only one steed who managed to steal her heart and mind, and he became my grandfather. I felt his spear shift in the feathers on my wing. I would not be so weak as my grandmother. I would never allow myself to feel for another being like that, I would never grow so weak as to have to rely upon another.

Because when they leave me, like you did, I would only be all the more broken.

I enjoyed the feeling of power my behaviour was earning me. He watches me, closely, drinking my body in deeply, not hiding his attraction. I never thought of myself in that light, never considered that the curves of my bodice were particularly beautiful or alluring, but apparently they were. I almost felt shy for a moment, embarrassed that I was advertising myself in this way - but it was a false advertisement, a lie, an act that I was trying out for the first time, just to see what results I could garnish. I would admit to be pretty pleased with my first attempt, and I wondered if all men were this vague and easy to twist - I wondered just how much I could get him to do without him even realising it.

"What are you tripping on?" I ask, unsure of the wording he used. He didn't seem to be falling down or stumbling, though there was still that heady, thick smell about him. I didn't know if it was his natural masculine musk or something else - my eye fall upon the strange vial strung around his neck, but I have little idea what it could be. I know there are medicinal herbs that can help a horse calm down, others that can alter one's state of mind - did this canister contain a substance like that? A brow quirks upwards as I consider this possibility. Was this steed under the influence of something that made him more persuasive? Were my skills of seduction not as good as I thought - was I just lucky to find a steed drunk on whatever poison he was taking?

Did it matter?

It was a stab to my confidence, and I felt myself slip back to the dead, empty shell of body that I have been since you left me. I hope he does not notice the gleam leave my eye, but that is the only sign of my renewed disinterest. The rain slowly gets heavier, the drops fall with more of a steady rhythm. My hide moves with the drops, a strange, dark blur of water and clouds and winds scrawling across my frame. I halt the sweeping of my tail, and pull myself away from the steed, allowing the disgust to curl my lip into a snarl-like frown. "I think I'd rather you shut up now, actually." I say dryly, peering at him though half-lidded eyes that blink from beneath a dampening forelock.


@[Rostislav] whee moody cirrus :D

What could be more satisfying then achieving exactly what I want? Heck, I didn't know I had wanted to piss the stallion off when I first met him, but the result was all the same. I smile to myself, and it is a mean, scornful smile, full of bitterness and hate. I'm sure if I was recognised by anyone who knew me, I would probably feel ashamed for falling prey to such primal and volatile emotions. But here I stand, embracing them, enjoying them, allowing them to shape and define my next actions.

He doesn't tell me what he is tripping on. I almost ask him again, but his irritable glance is met with silence and a hard stare from me. As his ears tilt back to make the horns upon his crown more prominent, so too do mine, and I feel a temptation to pluck my spear out from its hidden pocket amongst my right wing, but I resist for now. I am almost tempered enough to simply leave our interaction at that, to fill my wings with the winds of my magic and flutter away - until he does eventually speak again.

"What did you call me?" I ask quietly, turning to face him full on, no longer tempered by the danger he might pose to me, what could have or would have been fear disappearing beneath the foolish want, the unyielding need to stomp on his ugly face and add a few more scars to his pock-marked hide. My teeth grind together as my electric gaze flashes dangerously. The rain persists around us, and I demand once more an answer from this drunken fool.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME!"

@[Rostislav] Lol idek. Feel free to make your next post an opening spar post, or have Rosti reply and Cirrus will make the next move. <3