the Rift


[PRIVATE] Breathing Life into Battered Bones {Hatching}

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#1
The lady is no longer as fierce as some have come to know her by. A weariness has settled in about her bright plumage like a hoard of ticks to a dog; try as the maiden might to be rid of such a nuisance, the heavy feeling has decided to stay with her awhile. At first she had thought it to be due to her wounds -- she had been boiled by a lizard, after all -- but the weight in her limbs and tread in her step had stayed with her even after she had been healed. She had settled on delivering a stern word to the fae who had renewed her (apparently not wholly) but the unshakable fatigue had caused the bitter woman to reconsider. Whereas before this blight she would have relished in forcing the equine to yield, she feels no desire for such cruelty now. Could it be because of her fragile new charge that she has begun to think this way? Is it the egg's frailty that causes her to pause, or put her ferocious acts to an end altogether?

A quick glance back at the thing makes the bird believe otherwise. Nothing in this world has the power to change her. She will either choose to reform, or proudly remain the same. Yet even as she decides this, and her fiery eye scours over the egg's veined surface, the warrior cannot help but to dull the vigour in which her wings climb the sky. The powerful strokes of her instruments subside to gentle dips of her primaries; her barred legs no longer press against her ruby belly, but hang limply to provide drag instead. A sense of calm has washed over the beauty as she gazes fondly at her charge, wondering about what might be in there.

If the creature lives at all. She winces at her own harsh words, turning away from the precious item to look ahead. Had I not seen it with my own two eyes, I would have thought the creature lost. Delicate ears spring forwards at the sight of the island she had set her course for. Her sudden delight in finding such an odd land mass is dispersed by her next thought. Should it not be dead? I suffered for this puny thing. Have my efforts been wasted?

Not daring to answer that question for herself, the Aztec busies herself with the task of landing on the island. The feathers surrounding the egg upon her wither stiffen, lifting themselves higher to form a protective cage for the orb to rest in. The tendrils themselves are not very strong, but the maiden will undertake any possible task to ensure her captive's survival. Among those is landing in one of the streams that run off of the isle's edge. The water should, in theory, make for a lighter landing. Or perhaps I am more of a xolopitli than I give myself credit for.

With the darkening horizon before her the peahen makes her descent. Rapidly swaying wings appear almost to glitter with the fading light's touch, and when her hooves stir up the water it only increases that effect. Should another look upon the glistening peahen, their breath would certainly catch at such a sight. It is not every day that you see so fine a creature. Constructed of myth and colored with beauty, the vehement goddess takes pleasure in such a dazzling performance. The illusion itself, however, is shattered as soon as she surges towards land.

"-better be worth it," are her almost inaudible words as she growls at the egg. "-take forever to dry... -outrage!" Her porcelain weapons grind against each other, further inhibiting her speech. The waterlogged vixen barely takes notice of her discomfort, her mind is so focused on the prospect of finding a suitable place to dry off. When at last her orange pools rest on a copse of shedding trees, the Aztec relieves her annoyance with a snort. Could she just be in dire need of a rest? Is that why weariness plagues her so?

Dragging her wet banner behind her as she approaches, the exotic woman settles in on a pile of pink blossoms. Memories of a less desirable experience among the flowers take hold of her mind, but it is not the image of being caught in a tree that haunts her so. It is the other figure that captures her attention, the one that yells up at her and has the audacity to use her for his jests. It is not a fond memory of the silver-stained boy, but it is still a memory of him nonetheless.

The maiden lifts her blue crown, her eyes probing the darkness of this foreign island in search of the familiarity that he possesses. Briefly she wonders if he has yet to leave this place. Gull. Are you around here?


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{@[Gull]
xolopitli -- imbecile; fool; idiot}

Image Credits

Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

Gull Posts: 120
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16 hh :: 9 (Tallsun) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Splat :: Royal Zephyr :: Phoenix Shady
#2
Gull
trouble with a side of wings

Evening is falling quickly upon the island, and you find yourself restless. Since you don’t much fancy the idea of landing on the rocky peninsula below in the dark, it is too late now to find somewhere else to roost for the night. You’re stuck here until morning. With a heavy sigh and an impatient folding and refolding of black-tipped wings, you cast one last glance back at the meadow, then wander away.

Though you will never admit it, what really ails you this evening is not mere idleness nor simple boredom. The island is peaceful and still, and while there is a certain calming air to the place, it’s so quiet. You miss the roar of the ocean, the crash of waves on the rocks, the squawking and wheeling of the seabirds above—and the wind! Instead of the good, strong, salty smell of the sea, everything here smells like these awful cherry blossoms! You swear, after only a few days on this floating hunk of rock, it’s become impossible to catch a whiff of anything (or anyone) else. Kicking at the ground in frustration, you snort, as if your exasperation will erase the pink-tinged aroma that seems to have permeated the entirety of the airspace for a five-mile radius. Your old home was no paradise, but at least you could breathe without choking.

Grumbling to yourself in this vein, your hooves carry you, undirected, to the edge of the island, where a stream tumbles over the edge into a miniature waterfall. Subconsciously, you halt. The rushing water is no ocean, but it’s the closest you’ll get to waves tonight. Moodily, you stand beside the drop-off, staring out into the night—you’re leaving first thing in the morning, you decide. You’ve had enough of this frilly, flower-strewn place.

You take your sweet time brooding (after all, it is satisfying in its own angsty way), but even that grows tiring after a while and you turn from the stars wearily, intending to find a place to rest. As luck (or really, probability) would have it, the only place nearby is an extensive grove of cherry trees. But it doesn’t matter; you’ll be gone in a matter of hours, so with an irritated eye-roll, you walk into the canopy.

Surprisingly, you manage to catch her scent before you see her. Grullo ears stand at alert like twin soldiers startled from sleep when the unmistakable signature signaling “Bell” drifts past your nostrils. As quietly as you can, you inch forward, eyes straining and ears swiveling. She’s got to be somewhere nearby! Sure enough, you finally make out a dark silhouette on the ground just ahead, and your face nearly splits in two with the size of your gleeful smile. Oh Bell, caught snoozing, are we? You’ll give her a nice little surprise to wake up to. Mischievously, you lower yourself to the ground beside her, careful not to make too much noise.

@[Bellona]

OOC: Sorry for the wait! I assume she’s still awake, but Gull likes to think he’s oh-so-clever and sneaky cx

"talk talk talk"

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#3
It is not the quiet sound of hooves amongst the fallen blossoms that announces his presence, but the scent of the painted man as he settles in behind her. He smells as raw as the bitterest wind, and as musky as the Earth after a day of rain. At first the peahen is alarmed by this sudden onslaught of scents; her heart pounds in time with his breath and her feathers stand erect at his touch. The rate at which her heart beats slows drastically when she turns her crown to face him, but she does not look at him for long. Orange eyes stare intently at the egg as she moves her mouth to grasp it, setting it on the petals that rest between her forelegs but leaving her gaze upon it. The intimacy between them baffles her: she does not deserve to bask in the radiance of his simple, glorious form, but when has that ever stopped her before? Why does the closeness of this stallion suddenly make him so unattainable?

The wind caresses their resting forms, urging both winged figures to succumb to sleep. She had come to this island in search of rest, and him, but now that she is here she wants neither. Molten orbs do not peer into oceanic ones, nor do they dive into their depths to search for the promises that lie within them. The maiden's senses are heightened in his silver-stained presence, yet even so she knows that she can never truly see him with her eyes, nor feel him in his warm embrace. This is not a pleasure that she will ever have, for with as much knowledge as she has in the arts of death and war, she knows nothing when it comes to her feelings for this stag. What gives you the power to make me feel this way? What gives you the right?

It is a question that will go unanswered until she is prepared to face it, but as fearsome as the vixen is she is not ready to do that. Wallowing in her own despair is not something that she is accustomed to either, and so she breaks their silence. "You have not left this place. Why?" Her inquiry may be blunt and lacking direction, but at least it is not bitter. Or draw attention to my emotions. Perhaps it is not the best opener to a heartfelt meeting between two friends -- if that's what they are now -- but at least it's something.

The peahen dispels another sigh as the tension in her body dissipates, vacating her colorful architecture to make room for more familiar emotions. She inserts another question before the winged man behind her can even address the first. "You've found some lost damsels, haven't you? I hope you're better with directions than you are with flight." As natural as it is for her tongue to deliver sarcasm, the words strike at her heart like a newly forged blade. Her hopes -- although normally malicious -- are tender. Prove my words wrong, boy. Make me proud to call you friend.


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{@[Gull]}

Image Credits

Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

Gull Posts: 120
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16 hh :: 9 (Tallsun) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Splat :: Royal Zephyr :: Phoenix Shady
#4
Gull
trouble with a side of wings

She is awake. Before you can drop your head, you see the shape of her skull rising from the ground in the darkness and hear the soft rustle of feathers as they fan in a display that would probably have brought you to your knees…were it, that is, you were not already on the ground and the darkness wasn’t in the way. As it is, the motion startles you—she has been awake this whole time, and suddenly your gesture appears more intimate than mischievous. Uneasy at the way the thought makes you feel, you clear your throat and shift away uncomfortably. It is not so much that the action itself bothers you—heck, you’ll lie down with all of the pretty ladies if it’ll get you anything for your trouble (and you definitely mean that in a wink, wink, nudge, nudge sort of way)—but the idea of sharing something deeper with anyone…well, you just aren’t that type of guy. Not that this is going there, you backtrack. It was just a thought. Moment over. Sternly, you instruct the little voice to shut up and let you enjoy the babe who’s letting you share her sleeping quarters.

“You have not left this place. Why?” Bell’s voice cuts through the space between you, and even though it is dark, you can tell that she is not looking at you. Instead, her voice is pointed…down? Squinting, you make out the form of a large, pale egg nestled between her forelegs, and you tilt your head in confusion. Before you can ask though, she continues, answering the question for you. “You’ve found some lost damsels, haven’t you? I hope you’re better with directions than you are with flight.” In the darkness, you merely give a noncommittal shrug and a half-smirk that she probably won’t be able to see. “Keeping tabs on me, Bell?” you inquire, with a little more bravado than you intend. Perhaps it was a serious question, but like you said—you don’t do serious. “Whatcha got there?” you ask, changing the subject by tossing your muzzle in the general direction of the egg. “Babysitting for a bird?”

@[Bellona]

OOC: :D

"talk talk talk"

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#5
The sweet scent of fresh blossoms is overpowering now that the Chieftess has collected so many petals. Instead of her usual fragrance -- one most often identified by its earthen odour -- she now reeks of a much more delicate stench. Blue-dipped tresses slap against her nape as she shakes her body out in an attempt to be rid of the perfume, but her efforts are futile. She may lose the charming buds, yes, but unless she desires to go for a swim she will be tainted with their smell for quite a while. The brooding vixen doesn't know what is worse: smelling like a damsel, or acting as useless as one.

Although, according to Gull, the peahen has better things to show concern for. He had called her desirable, once, after all, and she has done her best to remain unattainable since then. It isn't as if she has made things easy on him. But am I too blunt for this vibrant creature? Do I ruin his image of me every time I am in his presence?

The maiden's barred legs shift around her fragile charge, careful not to disturb it as she finally turns to meet the silver's gaze. At first her stare is determined -- she will not be crippled by the seas that make up this perplexing stag -- but her resolve is soon forgotten when her gaze lands on his shadowed face, and drifts downwards from there. What are you doing to me, atlacatl? Orange eyes graze across his musculature like a match stick grating against emery. Her scrutiny of the silver-tipped man is forced at first, nothing more than a necessary step before an action that has yet to be significant. What comes after, though, is what really brings light to the dazzling woman's world; the reaction that occurs during the time that the match is struck. Something... glorious.

But it is ruined the very moment that he speaks. In an instance, the flames that define her desire for him flicker dangerously low.

The transformation is quick, and although it cannot be seen in the gaping vixen, it can be felt. At first it seems unattainable, impossible even, but it is a familiar feeling inside the confines of her mind. She is used to shielding herself away from others, to burying her thoughts in the shallow graves inside her mind, but she had not wanted this for him. Here she is, lying with her sloping back tucked firmly beside him, and all that he can do is play around with her? Who do you think you are?

"I only keep my eye on those I deem worthy." Which you no longer are. The mare's words are contempt, and she flicks her muzzle skywards with a snort. Screw this tender moment, and screw him too. It is better to go it alone, anyway; she does not need him. "It is my reward. For slaying its mother." Her words are vicious and perhaps unnecessarily cruel, but in the maiden's opinion, he deserves it. "Like all things that try to hurt me, Gull, I strike fast and I strike hard."


At this, the bird reaches out towards the egg, nuzzling its rough surface with her cheek as she lays her head to rest. Her body aches to chase the pegasus away from her, to scream at him and tell him to never come back, but a part of her also wants him here. It has been so long since she has wanted someone's company, and as hurt as she is by his lack of devotion to her, the warrior is governed by strength, not by delicacy. His rejection is not something that she cannot handle.

"Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

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{@[Gull]}


Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

Gull Posts: 120
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16 hh :: 9 (Tallsun) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Splat :: Royal Zephyr :: Phoenix Shady
#6
Gull
trouble with a side of wings

“I only keep my eye on those I deem worthy,” she snaps, and in case you were worried before about the moment being over, her tone signals that it definitely is now. It stings a little, but the harshness is familiar, comfortable, and you retreat into your old role with relief, settling back into your brash persona much like vagrant stirs and settles himself in a threadbare coat. It doesn’t have to be this way; perhaps the vagrant could become a king in time with only some patient wielding of soft words and a little sensitivity, but you are too stupid to sense that…either that, or you are too afraid to fully realize it.

Attention no longer on you, Bell turns to the egg that rests in front of her. “It is my reward. For slaying its mother,” she nearly growls, with a bloodthirstiness that startles you. If her tone wasn’t so dark, you might have laughed aloud. Slaying its mother? What beef could Bell have possibly have with an oversized bird? Had it been too noisy? Taken a dump on her head, perhaps? (Oh, heaven forbid…!) Every scenario you could possibly imagine is ridiculous, but the steel in her voice keeps you silent…for now, at least. If she wants to go around killing birds, all the more power to her, you guess.

You may not have kept your amusement sufficiently in check, however, for when she speaks again, even you do not fail to catch the warning in her voice. “Like all things that try to hurt me, Gull, I strike fast and I strike hard.” What’s that supposed to mean? You frown to yourself, repeating the phrase in your head. Like all things that try to hurt me… Things that try to hurt her? Is someone trying to hurt Bell? But wait, what does that have to do with the bird? And slaying?? It doesn’t make any sense to you.

Before you can voice your confusion, Bell’s bossy voice cuts through the night again. “Get some sleep,” she commands, “We’ll talk in the morning.” Though she cannot she you (or perhaps because she cannot see you), you roll your eyes at her. It’s funny how easily this girl gives orders—it’s as if she’s used to others actually listening to her. What’s funnier still, though, is that you obey. You offer a small grunt of protest, but you offer no other resistance as you settle deeper into the grass. The only sound that breaks the silence is the soft rustle of feathers as you stretch your wings—presumably to refold them. You can’t help it that a primary may brush against her barrel in the process, offering a quiet caress…all accidental, of course, should she object.

@[Bellona]

OOC: -coughs-

"talk talk talk"

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#7
As tough as she thinks herself to be, the peahen is not so strong as to resist the temptations that this man plants inside of her. His gentle touch, although perhaps unintentional, sends a shiver down the maiden's spine. Suppressing an unwanted gasp the beauty scrambles to regain control over her own body. As much as her mind yearns to return the pain that he inflicts her with, her heart and its desires win her over, and she only lies there instead.

The bird's emotions ravage her internally as the war between independence and attraction wages on, but instead of joining in on the fray she ignores her tumultuous thoughts instead. Sleep is what she needs now, and she knows that her confusion, like this man, will dissipate with the rise of the sun. Weary lids drift gently to a close, and tight lips release their frown. There is no amount of disappointment that will keep the beauty from sleep tonight.


Meanwhile, with his mother fast asleep, the unborn creature has been working away at the cell that holds him captive. A broad head presses at the shell that encloses it, but with the slight pressure that it emits the babe's crown takes on a new shape. This lack of permanence does not startle the struggling boy, though, and he does not question where this power comes from; it is as much a part of him as the woman that he is dying to meet.

Warmth spreads all throughout his body at the thought of her, and he halts his escape attempt to consider her. For as long as he has had a conscious thought, he has only ever known her. The way that she breathes, the rhythm that her heart beats to, even the fluctuating tones to her voice -- oh, what a voice it is! -- are as familiar to him as the darkness inside his cell. The darkness is not always the only thing he can see, though: sometimes, if he is listening the right way or if the woman is determined enough (which she always is, for she is magnificent) he can see what she sees, and experience what she is experiencing. She may not have detected the bond between them yet, but he can already feel its power. He might not know her yet, but he can sense that their connection is changing her, too. From what, though, he is not sure.

The unborn hopes that she is kind, and that she will return the love that he already possesses for her. Is kindness too much for him to ask of such a fiery being, though? Should it be power, or acceptance that he yearns for instead? He knows that she is strong, and he has felt her wrath first-hand, but somewhere far below the anger and the sadness and the contempt that she is so prone to, there is something just waiting to be discovered. The babe felt a little of that something tonight, when he was listening to her talk with the man that her heart beats so loudly for.

Briefly, the boy wonders why it does that. Is something wrong with her? Should he be freeing himself faster so that he can help her? With new found urgency to his movements, the writhing creature presses at his cage. His body does not take on a new shape this time, and his concern for the woman he has linked himself to is more than enough to see him through with his task.

Crackkkk. The smallest of sounds announces his arrival, and the tiny mass of slimy fur spills out from the egg to bump softly against a striped pillar. A gust of warm air startles the hatchling and he reels away from its source only to find that he is trapped. Panic sets in about his shivering form as blurry eyes struggle to find her. His dark gaze moves slowly up the barred leg that he is leaning on, climbing up towards a bright shoulder and sliding along a ruby throat.

At first he is confused by the colors that adorn the hulking beast, but as soon as his eyes fall on her face he knows that she is the one. His anxiety is soon forgotten as he watches her resting form, his gaze finally clearing so that he can look upon her with fondness instead of with concern.


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{@[Gull]

Feel free to have him sleep/stay up, whatever! The rougarou and Gull can chat, or Gull can just find him in the morning. ^^}


Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

Gull Posts: 120
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16 hh :: 9 (Tallsun) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Splat :: Royal Zephyr :: Phoenix Shady
#8
Gull
trouble with a side of wings

It seems that Bell has fallen asleep, for you’ve never heard her shut up and stay quiet for this long before. Quietly, you raise your head to look over her still form, and sure enough, the flashing eyes are closed and the slim ribcage is rising in gentle, even breaths. But you are not sleepy. Restlessness still plagues you, and try as you might, you can’t just conk out as easily as Sleeping Beauty over here can. Must be nice, you think, watching the way her eyelashes flutter from time to time. Of course, you’d be able to sleep that peacefully too if you were actually exerting yourself during the day instead of lazing around this place. Your mind drifts back to the flurry of flying and racing and fighting that marked your early days here. Whatever happened to all that? It’s pretty much just stuffing your face and chasing tail now. You never thought there could be such a thing as too much food or too many ladies, but it seems that’s the case. What you wouldn’t give to be off this floating rock right now! Well, you reconsider, there is Bell…but, at the same time, you have a feeling that when she said you’d talk in the morning, getting it on wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. So why are you here again? To play babysitter for her while she sleeps? You don’t think so! It’s just lucky for her that it’s too dark to fly right now. You’re not soft, Gull, you chide yourself, stretching your neck forward to rest your head on the ground.

It is only by chance that this weary gesture brings your eyes within inches of the egg that Bell’s been cradling between her forelegs all night. Lucky you, you think with a touch of bitterness, directing your gaze at its pale, smooth surface. Honestly, you don’t know why Bell cares so much, but--craaaackkk. The moon comes out from behind a cloud at that exact moment, revealing a hairline fracture along the egg’s surface. Alarmed, you swear under your breath. If anything happens to this thing, Bell’s going to kill you. But you don’t want to touch it—if observing means murder, interfering means suicide. You can only watch with bated breath and hope that nothing else happens. Though as the Lady would have it, of course something happens. Before your horrified eyes, the crack seems to be deepening, widening…you blink. You’re not just imagining this, right? Frantically you consider waking Bell up, because you didn’t touch it, you swear!

Thankfully the sudden arrival of the rougarou spares you an untimely death. As its wet body emerges from the broken shell, you can’t help but give a shaky laugh of relief. Of course nothing was going to happen, you idiot, you realize. The thing was just hatching, that was all. But…what exactly is this weird blob? Because that sure isn’t down, and you don’t see a beak, or feet, or even wings. “You’re not a bird…” you whisper, peering down at the little guy. But it ignores you, for it only has eyes for Bell. You smirk in amusement as you follow its slightly cross-eyed newborn gaze, which traces the curve of her neck and settles on her face with an expression that can only be described as rapture. “I know, right?” you remark. “Get a load of that, buddy.”

@[Bellona]

"talk talk talk"

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!


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