| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2hh :: 3 years |
| Boom Boom! |
|
Night, its black fingers creeping through the corners of the world, choking the earth with shadow silks. Behold, in the sky, the full moon rising with golden luminosity, telling of the season. The chill in the air rushes through my feathers, through the long, magically untangled mass of silver hair sprouting from my neck and weaving down my face. My solid, bronze hooves brush the wilting grounds softly, restoring the breath of spring as I pass.
So, I am the Son of the Earth. Maybe I am crazy, the past few days being nothing more than a grand delusion built upon the insane workings of my shattered mind. I would certainly almost prefer this to be true, than welcome in the evil that my gentle father whispered of with foreboding eyes. What sort of world had I returned to from the endless sea of darkness?
I ache to return to the abyss, to the lack of thought, light, life. I seek the dead serenity of the darkness, for it was simpler there, if not crushing to my mind and myself. I suppose there are realities that simply cannot be avoided, and mine is such. I may not remember who I am, my former life, but I can feel the pulse of a strong heart in my chest. I feel the tug of purpose. I feel the need to aid this realm, Helovia, find solace in the times of darkness ahead. The flashes of familiar faces behind my eyelids certainly aid in this.
My sister, Ranjiri, was the only one I could remember for now. I know there are others. Cold, crimson eyes softening as they turn to me, warm smiles on darkened mugs. Glowing golden symbols on a sea of dark canvas, splotches of white. A small boy dipped in sunlight and a firm disposition. Who are they? What are they to me? I cannot recall.
The stars above sing their lonely songs, the wind dancing among tree branches, the dapples of moonlight peaking through trees to paint my pelt like the sky above. I hear nothing in the forest, no life that would speak to me other than the earth. Despite the waning strength of summer giving into his cold brother, the heart of the earth beats strong. I follow the pulse, much like I had on the floating island not far from here, as it is leading me somewhere. Leading me to something I had lost, perhaps, or maybe to someone who would have me found.
I almost do not see it, the Ancient Rotunda glowing in the meadow like a beacon, for it is unfamiliar. The cascading colors of the glass are dimmed under moonlight, yet distinguishable under this full moon. They glitter along the floor of the strange structure, painting it like a field of spring flowers at night. The vines grow around the pillars gently, strong legs to hold what must have been a magnificent beauty in its prime. While I am not sure how old this strange thing is, the stones speak of many rains, despite being more of less in perfect shape.
I walk closer, almost turning to circle around the great, magnificent beauty, until I hear a faint chirp. A cricket, I assume at first, ear flicking in its directly. However, the chord rings out again, more insistently, almost like the nattering of an angry child. Then a melody plays, warm and welcoming, and recognition spawns somewhere in my lifeless memories.
A harp. I used to own a harp.
Out of the vines, the weeds, the grass, out flies the white birchwood, emerald encrusted beauty of my memories, music soaring from its strings insistently. The beckon to me, trying to draw upon the flickers of my mind, draw out the one they called Hototo. "Hello, old friend," I say to the curious harp. I smile, though the emotion does not touch my heart. I am saddened more to see this relic of my former self. Another shadow in the night, reminding me that while I may be the son of the earth, I am still lost.
Songs, crying out in the dark, seeking a way home.
[ Open for anyone. ]
|
Credits: Tamme Art
| Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5 |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath
& Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath
Time |
09-06-2014, 09:31 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-29-2014, 10:27 AM by Abraham.)
abraham
And the shadow of the day
Will embrace the world in grey
And the sun will set for you
It had been so long since Abraham had been disturbed in the night. Many beings scoured the deep forest and his Rotunda during the hours of light and life, but at night, when everything was more dangerous, cold, and dark, all stayed away. He had fallen into that routine as well, though opposite the other daywalkers. Abraham roamed away from his castle during the day, hunting with his princess and discovering new things for himself. The Dauntless' prince had been given a keen eye towards the earth--he noticed when plants bloomed, how they spread, and what they did. He liked to discover new herbs to help, to aid, to restore; but, more so, he enjoyed finding new herbs to kill, to destroy, to ravish. He spent most of his day studying the flora, and his nights tucked in the tall structure, his Rotunda.
Lifting his head, the darkling's mismatched eyes found movement in the hollow of the surrounding trees. Rousing his bondmate by moving forward, Abraham descended on the being. He stopped short, however, resting on the steps of his cell, as music strung out in the darkness. The sound was sharp on his ears, but not unpleasant. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The music is sweet and alluring, as if calling out to this beast that interrupted his sleep. Glowering, Abraham cleared his throat bruskly. His white serpent, elegant in her growing body and unmistakably dangerous, crawls up to rest on his poll, grasping his twisted, twin horns. Her jaws part, smoke gently rolling from her jaws as she hisses towards the winged boy.
He is like him--a hybrid, a mutt, a contradiction. The stranger's body is strong--not as thick as Abraham's body, of his lineage, but still strong. His feet are not feathered, and his coloration is truly something strange in itself. But what Abraham focuses on is the two contrasting elements of the boy's features--the large wings that protrude from his shoulders, and the twin ram horns that curl away from his head and back down again. Abraham is like him. Gwyneverre should not be bonded to Abraham, by his appearance, but despite the horns that stand as erect weapons from his brow, he has equine blood flowing through his veins. Strong, able, Dauntless equine blood. Blood that cannot be defeated. "What is your business here?" Abraham snarls with a voice beyond his ears. The sound is thick, like molasses, but harsh and unforgiving.
In this moment he wished for Reginald to be standing at his side, to be devouring this intruder with him.
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Image Credit
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
pixel by tamme
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2hh :: 3 years |
| Boom Boom! |
|
The tones of the harp, a bird song in the night, cover the soft plod of strong hooves. I do not see the shadow of the boy that approaches, do not hear his firm approach. I am blind to his presence, looking forward the the bleached birchwood of my former life, the glittering of the emeralds of the instrument. I can recall singing, for I had once loved to sing.
Son of the earth, a wandering minstrel - perhaps I am not to remember my life through forced thought, but through song.
A rough, brutish voice makes me turn, looking at this new stranger with deadened eyes. The surprise that I would have felt before is muted. There is nothing that can surprise me, now that I had walked an island only to find a bloodied, battered corpse. Unless this colt before me suddenly burst into flames, I doubt I will bat an eye. What is your business here? he asks me, demands me, cold eyes glowering at me from behind strong features.
He is burly for a young stallion, I think. I imagine his father must be a giant much like my own. The expression on his face is not kindly, not wise, but poisoned. I long for the bearded, crinkly smile of my Father. Had he smiled in our last meeting? Am I just chasing the flickers of old memories? Everything is so unclear. Looking at this stranger, I feel like he, too, is a shadow belonging to the night. Like the menacing twists and coils of the trees painted black against the moonlight, something about this boy's expression is just not right.
"I wish I knew," I say with a tired voice, turning my eyes back toward the harp that plays eerie tones now. I feel as though my instrument does not like our new visitor. Does this mean I should be weary of him, too? Can instruments really judge character that quickly? I must really be going insane.
I feel heavy, awkward, as though I am obligated to ask this stranger something. However, I think if I asked his name he would ignore me, and by the cold glare he arrived with, I doubt he cares for mine. I guess I will just settle with: "What's yours?"
Probably a bad choice, but I can't take it back now.
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Credits: Tamme Art
| Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5 |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath
& Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath
Time |
09-22-2014, 10:04 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-29-2014, 10:28 AM by Abraham.)
abraham
And the shadow of the day
Will embrace the world in grey
And the sun will set for you
"Do not question me." Abraham growls and moves closer towards the hybrid boy. His body puffs up, making him appear larger. His neck arches and his twisted horns point towards the blue one's esophagus. The white serpent spread her wings and lifted off of her bonded's head, fiery eyes darting towards the instrument near the demi-god. Hissing briefly, the dragon opened her jaws wide. White, pure flame erupted from the depths of her belly, her stomach and neck glowing a red-orange hue from the inside. Abraham's lips twisted in a cruel smile, and he lunged forward.
The darkling's chin tucked as he aimed to slice his horn down the fleshy mound of the intruder's shoulder. "The rotunda is mine and you will leave." Memories of his past filled his brain, flashes of the yearling dying beneath his hooves, his brother standing with him, victorious in their protection of their birth home. Abraham was doing it again, protecting the place he called his own from dangerous strangers. This boy had not posed threateningly, but Abraham was not one to take chances on defeat. He needed to eradicate this winged one, make him flee in fear of the prowess displayed before him.
Circe had taught her son well. Abraham, even in his young age, was trained in the theory of battle. I have seen even your father dance on the battlefield, and you will follow that. The shadowmere's words echoed in her prince's mind, and he advanced on her training. Abraham's hooves crossed over their pairs as he side passed with ease, moving to strike out at the dun's wing with his teeth. Abraham's ears pinned to his neck to save them from the wrath of his target's own weaponous teeth, and his eyes narrowed darkly.
With a snap the reptile closed her jaws and ended her fiery reign, and with a fury descended towards the demi-god's face. Her limbs were outstretched as she projected to claw at his brow, his eyes, his cheeks. Anything that the winged girl could rip she would, and she again opened her jaws to release hell upon his hide. He will make nice meal. She cooed mentally to her bondmate, tail lashing out behind her.
|
Image Credit
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
pixel by tamme
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2hh :: 3 years |
| Boom Boom! |
|
I should not have said that.
The shrill, cloying rattle of my harp's song rings in my ears, a fervent warning of what was to come. My eyes widen in shock, for as soon as the screech erupts from my fleeing instrument I note the harsh movements of violence. His neck coils like a threatening snake, drawn in such a dangerous position as to poise his horns at my throat. I understand instinctually that he means me no mercy, by the glint in his eyes and the warp of his masculine voice.
I am in trouble now.
I rise upon my hind legs, flinging my massive body away from the creature erupting with such sudden violence. The reflexes of my enchanted instrument are too fast for the fires of the hellbeast rising from behind his thick neck, but I am not so lucky. The sharp entangled horns dance across my shoulder, painting me with the warm, crimson of my own blood. I have felt pain, surely, but this sharp, keen reminder launches me back toward those distant memories. I remember them. I remember singing.
I could call the earth to my defense with my voice.
Yet, my lollygagging has cost me precious moments in my evasive maneuvers. Despite my hooves churning the earth, trying to give me space between this massive black attack dog, I am slow. His teeth land upon my flank, missing my massive wings only because they have splayed to help keep my balance. The flashes of black in the moonlight rushing toward me, I almost do not see the white harpy descending from the sky for my face.
My head drops, the swooping creature missing her mark as I catch glimpses of heavy hooves along the floor. Black and white. Black and white.
I remember the mat of black hair clenched between the teeth of the greyed mare, bloodied and laying silent in a bed of white flowers. Murderer. I kick off from my hooves, leaping from a stand still to a rushing gait. I feel my shoulder cry with pain but am unable to stop. I must overcome this primal fear within my heart, for if this stranger is the masked ghoul that plans to take the lives of others, it ends now. So, my harp begins to play a triumphant melody, and I... I call upon the earth.
"Assassin in the night,
Painted black and painted white,
What might cause others fright,
Inspires me to stand and fight."
The earth begins to tremble, and I repeat this verse... more strongly, feeling the tumult of the land beneath my bronze hooves. I begin to circle back around, my hooves carrying my easily over the shaking earth that beats with the fluttering rhythm of my heart. I may have been startled, but I had promised resolve to my father. I could not fail him, not so soon after being assigned this task. I may have no idea of the boy I was, but I could certainly decide who I would be from this moment on.
I look upon my assailant with determined eyes, my crown of horns held high, my voice ringing out and shaking the meadow, the glass of the rotunda. I charge, lowering my head, toward his shoulder, hoping that the quaking of the earth along with the force of my body will be enough to send him flying to the ground. With a strong build such as his, it may not be easy. However, perhaps upon the trembling floor he would yield. I did not want to injure this new foe. I only wanted him to stop.
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Credits: Tamme Art
| Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5 |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath
& Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath
Time |
10-06-2014, 04:40 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-06-2014, 04:41 PM by Abraham.)
abraham
And the shadow of the day
Will embrace the world in grey
And the sun will set for you
Frustration turns to rage in the yearling's mind, tying with his bonded dragon. The harp is not swallowed by flames, causing Gwyneverre to screech again. Wildly, she trashed at the demi-god's neck, opening her wings wide to glide away from him. She wings out to the left, arching around him wide. Her fiery eyes search him, wanting to bury him in her ferocious flames, but Abraham is too close, and she will not burn her boy. Darting quickly by flapping her nearly translucent wings wildly, the serpentine bitch aims to grab on to the tuft of mane at the boy's withers. If she gained her purchase she would rake her back claws down his spine, hoping to dig deep into his skin and tissue.
The song erupted from the boy's lips as he flailed away from Abraham, and had the darkling prince not been the assailant, he may have found beauty in the tune. He did like the words, in fact, he enjoyed being called an assassin by this creature. It fueled him. The winged boy declared Abraham something to be feared, and the cruel glint in his eye exploded and his smirk turned into a wicked smile. Drops of blood dripped off of the tips of his twisting, twin horns as he turned to face his opponent once more, the taste of his hide still bursting to life in his mouth. Abraham would taste his blood, and feel the iron liquid under his hooves, unless the boy was flailing his wings to escape his clutches--and, if so, Gwyneverre knew to follow, to envelop him in crushing flame.
It did not seem that the boy was running away, and instead, turned to face Abraham as well. He watched the boy's head tuck down, and Abraham knew he intended to ram into him with those curled, blunt horns. Snorting, Abraham rocketed towards Hototo with all of his might, just as the earth began to tremble under his feathery hooves. For a moment, Abraham was startled. Had he inherited his father's ability? Were these earthquakes? Dual colored eyes flicked to the face of his opponent, where nothing but resolute determination was painted. These earthquakes did not belong to the Dauntless' prince. They belonged to the intruder. With his wicked smile turning into a snarl, Abraham tried to continue his forward movement.
The ground was shaky, and as the distance closed between him and his target, it only got worse. The boy was losing his balance, and he knew he would not be able to hold his own against a charging hit from those horns, designed for the attack he was attempting to make. Abraham stopped then, suddenly, his hooves scrambling for purchase, and he turned. He tried to jump out of the way, but he was too slow in his behemoth mass. Air escaped his lungs with a hard thudding sound as the intruder hit the draft mutt's left thigh. Pain swelled in his leg but he clenched his teeth and bucked up. A short squeal of pain escaped from Abraham's clenched teeth as he hoped to kick the other boy in the head.
|
Image Credit
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
pixel by tamme
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2hh :: 3 years |
| Boom Boom! |
10-16-2014, 12:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-16-2014, 12:25 PM by Hototo.)
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The confidence of my foe appears to be bolstered by the rocking of the earth for a passing moment. The flicker of pride on his face reminiscent of a boy trying on his father's tie. Just as quickly as it appeared, the stranger charged for me as well, racing toward each other in hasty violence. As his steps draw near, the confidence turns into a sneer, realizing, perhaps, that I am responsible for the quiver of the earth. My heart beats in time with the world. I am its son, but he would not understand.
Nor would he be likely to care.
I am thankful the quakes cause the boy to lose his stride, forcing him to fall back on his haunches in an attempt to stop. I smile. The jagged horns aimed for my heart are turned away, for he knows as well as I that should he fall from my charge, this fight would be finished.
My ram his the left side of my boy, hopefully shaking his foolish resolve to fight me. The movement of his legs belabored by his mass, striking not my head but the broad shoulder of my body as I attempt to sail by. I grit my teeth and swallow the yelp of pain in my throat, causing a momentary pause in my song and thus the quaking of the earth under my bronze hooves. I let out a breath forcefully, taking time to push off with my back legs and send my rump flying toward the left side of my opponent. I am still hefty in build, but more agile thanks to my mother's build than my foe. The cowkick is swift, but far from nimble, striking out blindly in the dark. I am no soldier.
The harp flitting about in the darkness bellows a melody for its friend, trying to inspire song from his lips to restore the shaking of the earth. I must keep him off balance.
"Son of the earth take pride,
Guarding the world from the wicked.
Keep heart within your stride.
Despair not when stricken."
Once more, the meadow dances at the sound of his voice strong and true.
[ ooc; sorry, writing short little song blurbs is harder than just churning out normal posts. xD WHAT IS PROSE PLS ]
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Credits: Tamme Art
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