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Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386

Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8

Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD

Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time

08-27-2012, 08:33 PM (This post was last modified: 08-28-2012, 10:08 AM by Archibald.)

Like walking into a dream, so unlike what you've seen

Archibald's steps were deliberate, his head high with pride as he roamed his herdland. He hadn't had much interaction here since the meeting, sticking to his patrols, his family, and the neutral lands. He needed to be more involved in the herd if he was going to live here, he decided, especially if he wanted to advance in the ranks like Mandrake desired for him. He needed to make allies, the foreign concept of friendship still an odd idea to him. He didn't need friends, he had brothers--at least, that is how he was raised. Allies were good because they weren't unbreakable ties, and losing them did not have a large impact. Friends, on the other hoof, took time and compassion and investment--something Archibald just did not desire. Friends damaged emotions when they were lost and the mammoth stallion did not need that...even if he had more of an emotional depth than he possessed. For now, Archibald was good with allies.

As the idea of friendship passed through the dark stallion's mind he passed the waterfall, its roaring waters pushing the thoughts right out of his head and pulling in his complete attention. Turning, the great brute stood staring at the falling water. Loretta appeared at his heels, panting and lowering her haunches into a sitting position. It was admirable, really, how much power water had. It fueled everything and could destroy it all so quickly. If the Gods had no blessed him with Earth magic, he would have quested for something with water. It was so drastic, so powerful, so truly awesome. Snorting the warrior moved towards the water and dipped his head into the pool to drink. His ears twitched on his crown, listening for approaching horses above the roar of the waterfall as best he could. Its crashing was overbearing, and here someone could be so easily ambushed it taken off guard. Onlookers were masked by the heavy scent of water and their steps were unheard, how easily they could strike.

Filling his belly with water Archibald lifted his head, shaking his mane in a satisfied manner. He turned his body, walking with his head lowered to protect himself from close branches. The darkness concealed him as he walked, a monstrous shadow amongst the trees. Loretta ran ahead of her bonded, bounding silently into the forest.

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Valhalla Posts: N/A

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08-27-2012, 10:21 PM

The harlequined damsel had grown restless in her social stagnation. She was a creature of extravert; a social being, and being confined to such reclusive throttles and conduits had caused her to become a bit stir crazy. She was tired of being so pitiful, so self-loathing, dwelling on the losses she'd endured. Such a thing was not healthy and certainly it would do nothing to bring back what had been lost, thrust violently into an abyss of endless oblivion. What had been done, was finished. Isilme would be, never again. Regardless, that wondrous place would always be her one true home. She could not ignore that fact.

This land hardly held a candle to the grandeur of her magnificent, russet cliffs, but it provided a place of refuge, none the less. It was a channel she could utilize to convalesce her mourning. She had yet to familiarize herself with her fellow herd-mates, though it was not necessarily her top priority. Paladin lived here, she thought fleetingly, recalling their blithesome dalliance what felt like merely a day ago with melancholy nostalgia. His heart belonged to Soleil, and she knew she was incapable of traversing that affection.

She had missed her opportunity and perhaps had committed a bit of a fumble by simultaneously pursuing Crane in the midst of their coquetry. Did it have any real gravity in the end? Not really. Valhalla was a mare of impulse and evanescing passion. She had a tendency to get lost in the moment, giving up herself in an attempt to find some sort of normalcy, some sort of fondness and love in the one she indulged in such affairs with. In the end, though, they all boiled down to meaninglessness. Such was a disheartening curse.

In her thoughtful roaming, she had unknowingly come across a brute of a stallion, handsome and tall, with a potent, masculine aroma. Her eyes widened as she watched him, their amethyst depths non-threateningly scrutinizing his wingless contours and the canine at his feet. Feigning indifference to his presence as he slowly neared her, trees twisting from the soil all around her, she lowered her slender face to the foliage that was profuse in this area, hardly affected by the blistering heat. The tempo of his hooves grew louder, and she studied him from the corner of her eyes, her downy, ashen wings ruffling alluringly.