the Rift


[PRIVATE] the awkward turtles unite.

Hototo Posts: 96
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2hh :: 3 years
Boom Boom!
#1
HOTOTO</style>
   HE WHO IS BRAVE IS FREE.</style>

A few scrapes and bruises remain from my brush with the black and white boy. I no longer think much of the pain he caused, but rather wonder what could have place him into such a frenzy. Meeting with Midas as well had been confusing, but in an entirely different way. He was a figure from my past life... before the era of darkness. I could see the outlines he imprinted on my soul, yet remembered little else.

Even names and faces coming back did not help to solve the puzzle of my life. What is worse - I am saddled with an entirely different puzzle. The murder on the island my father had told me to solve. I had been scouring Helovia for more clues, but came up empty handed. Now, I decided to return closer to the site of the crime: the Veins of the Gods, directly below the island.

My bronze painted hooves step lightly on the hardened, glowing magma. I recall the name of this place, likely because I recalled just as well my father. His altar resided on this peninsula, did it not? My eyes seek the ground carefully, remembering the black hairs near Vesta's corpse. I am looking for something, anything, reminiscent of a suspicious clue. More black hairs? Potentially hoof prints leading away from the island? I do not know for what I seek. However, one thing is certain.

I am not watching where I am going.
""

[ ooc; TEAM TEENAGE AWKWARD NINJA TURTLES GO. @[Tandavi] @[Caneo] ]

Stock Providers: Horse, Wings, and Background.

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#2

        Someone is dead.

        Caneo acknowledged the corpse with a bare interest, at first. He was far more concerned with the presence of the gods, the scent of burning and of wet earth, and the commandment of the sun. Why did they care if mortals keeled over? Didn’t it happen often enough? Weren’t they gods, used to the petty scrabble of the things below them? Caneo still regarded the strange beings with mild confusion. It verged now and then on distrust. They were not gods as he expected them to be; he did not care if some winged mare got torn up. It happened all the time.

        Maybe a small part of him, the same part withered under a desert sun, resented all the attention she got. No one but him had mourned his grandfather. No one here understood the sight of strange bones left behind on the thirsty ground. No one.

        Now away from the discomfort of that floating island, Caneo pauses to peer about. He clings to the fire girl just close enough to keep her in sight. He’s no wobbly colt, to be stuck at her side in constant need, but he is her friend and he reminds himself of this again when he feels doubt. Friends stick together, don’t they? If a murderer is loose – if the pegasus didn’t just die picking a bad fight – maybe he ought to keep an eye out for Tandavi. His ears twitch as the thought occurs to him. Is she in danger, then? Is he?

        Caneo snorts. His legs are longer than they’ve ever been. He’s good at running away.

        With nothing better to do he ambles forward, careful to keep Tandavi in sight. He has nothing to say, though, and this area is interesting. The air tastes a little off when he breathes in – it reminds him of the sea. The taste here is worse, though, and Caneo’s hooves clatter over hard earth. It sounds like rocks but looks like frozen water, black and filled with soft bumps and whorls. He peers down as he moves, every now and then. His pale eyes flicker up at intervals, though. It’s been a long while since anything dangerous happened. Maybe they’ll find another corpse?

        When he does see something, it is certainly alive. Caneo catches movement up ahead and blinks. It is a brown boy, winged, with horns like the earth man – but it is not the earth man. Caneo stops. He casts about for his friend, suddenly unsure. “Tandavi!” His voice is fine and light, a silver sound piercing the morning. “What is that?” He blinks with narrowed eyes, his ears pricked up.

sxc.hu


[ I'm sorry this is awful. >_> Got permission from Charks to act like Tavi was with him. ]

Tandavi The Fire Dancer Posts: 245
World's Edge Nurse atk: 6.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Natraj :: Plain Kitsune :: Fire Charks
#3


we walk a lonely road
beneath the fire of a thousand suns
Somebody is dead.

Why does it matter? Death is a constant occurrence, a stone in a river which will not be quelled. She has known others to die: Torasin, her family's friend, and Solstice his mate, and more, she is sure, when she was too young to comprehend, to understand the tears her elders shed. In the depths of the night when she cannot sleep despite the comforting glow of her moonstone, her sparks, she lets herself wonder who else is dead, if her mother and uncles and aunt have all fallen, and if that is the reason they never returned. She wonders if her father is dead, whoever he might be.

She is saddened when she thinks of it, but it is a distant, aching sadness, not a piercingly impassioned tangle of anger and grief, a vibrant indignation and a desire for justice. Clearly there is something darker at work; firechild burns ardent and staunch, determined to see the perpetrator punished, to lay then at the mercy of the court.

She is glad for Natraj, who lays on her hindquarters and scratches her flanks, bringing the girl back to reality. 'Will make justice,' her brother promises, his own anger quieter, smarter, focused. 'Need more clues. Need help.'

Need help.
She is reluctant to say the words aloud. Shy black eyes glimpse at Caneo, the friend who has not left her side. He seems so calm compared to her anger, so constant and quiet, and she is glad to have the soft steam of his breath, the pale warmth of his body so close to her. She wonders what he makes of the death, if it frightens him or if he finds it mundane. She wishes he would only speak, but does not demand it, because she fears what he might say. I don't care. I don't want to help. It's not my duty to being justice to this world.

Distracted, disconcerted, wrapped within her ambling thoughts, she falls behind the gangling stallion. The path is treacherous, even to those who take it as often ad the crimson child and her shadow kin. She can smell the sulfur and the salt and sea, as well as the remnants of magic which linger in every cranny, every stone; it is sensory stimulation too vast to take in, and it bogs her already heavy mind, makes it hard to focus on such meaningless things as where to put her feet. Caneo drifts to the lip of the trail, nearly disappears before his voice cuts back- Tandavi!

Musings are abandoned as action takes their place, limbs clenching and springing into focused action. It was a second before she was beside her friend, tearing to a forceful stop and sending a splattering of stone in her wake. Black eyes are vibrant, silver mane is wild; she flares her nostrils and searches for the danger, only to be met with a boy who makes her laugh, and a hundred pounds of forgotten concern drifts away from her narrow figure.

"Hototo!" the girl's voice cries through the air, followed by her figure and a laugh of relieved delight. "I'm so glad to see you! Are you okay?" She stops a moment before they might touch, reels back slightly to crane her neck and see the tall stallion's face. She doesn't remember him being so tall, so large and strong and beautifully built. The Hototo she remembers was small and soft, shy and alone and so very lost.

Black eyes look into crimson and green, and she suddenly remembers her other friend, the other boy she has vowed to defend. A smile marks the gold-slashed face as she turns back to Caneo, but it quickly fades as she remembers why they're here. Eyes turn back to Toto, again to Caneo, and she inhales, exhales, speaks hard and deep.

"Somebody died. She deserves justice."

Hard black gaze flits between the two, confidence and determination written in the lines of her face, the angle of her ears. Within she is writhing, praying, hoping that they will agree to be her team- not only so they will help her, but so she can better keep an eye on them. With a murder on the loose, she will die before she lets her friends be touched.

o. pixel pony credit to tamme
o. permission granted to use force and magic on Tavi
o. only tag me in opening posts, please!


Hototo Posts: 96
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2hh :: 3 years
Boom Boom!
#4
HOTOTO</style>
   HE WHO IS BRAVE IS FREE.</style>

A bag of bones covered with taut silk sheets. The figure is scarce, slight, graceless. I wonder briefly if the creature that catches my gaze is not some ghost sent to frighten me within the cold grips of a murder scene - the ghost of the grey body framed in crimson blood and lillies. However, the girl who stands behind him vaguely resonates in my mind.

Her body is sunkissed, bright, warm; essentially, she stands in complete defiance of her companion, who looks colder than the frozen tundra of the mountains north. Tandavi, the pale boy calls out into the morning air as his sky blue eyes of ice fall on my own frame, startled by my appearance perhaps. The dark eyes which dart to me in alarm soon fade to a joyous recognition, one I wished I could share.

Tandavi knew my name, singing it from soft lips in an uplifted tone. I freeze, unable to draw out any clues as to our meeting. I remember her face, was given her name, but am at a loss as to what else I should know. For now, I suppose I would shrug off the despairing feeling of idiocy in my gut and pretend I know. Pretend I remember. A weak smile forms on my lips.

As if murder was not a challenge already.

"I am unharmed," I reply to her question, uncertain whether it would be safe to reveal my loss of memory to her. Midas had felt safe in my heart, but this girl.... though I am taller and more thickly built, she made me nervous.

Somebody died. She deserves justice. I nod, my movement purposeful as I gaze at her with a serious expression. "My father has requested I seek out the killer," a strong voice, resolving against the nerves caused by uncertainty. "I am at a loss, though... the only thing left behind was a bunch of black hairs."
""

[ ooc; ;__; late ]

Stock Providers: Horse, Wings, and Background.

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#5

        Hototo Tandavi names the stranger. Suddenly her voice is light as wings, bright as dawn, and Caneo moves behind her as if his bones have turned to ice.

        She is so bright, and none of it for him.

        The brief, familiar ache within his chest is not quite jealousy. It has nothing to do with the dead mare, either, or any bitter memory – not really. He feels strange now, a ghost again, and a small part of him thinks about walking away. You don’t belong here, says something in the back of his mind.

        Caneo lingers.

        He says nothing when Hototo speaks – a strange voice, the words so certain – erudite. The silver boy’s eyes are empty, far away. Justice he thinks when Tandavi says the word. What does that mean? What does it matter? Caneo feels more out of place with every passing breath, as if he is beginning to disappear. This is worse than fear; it makes him want the desert again. He is quiet for a long time, his ears twitching, catching some of Hototo’s words and not the rest. Father, Caneo hears, loss, black hairs. He stares at the strange land around them, his nostrils flaring to catch the warm scent of the air.

        At last, reluctant, his pale eyes cease their twitching and rest lightly on Hototo’s face. “Maybe there will be more,” he says without inflection, offering the prediction as if it should be helpful and not horrifying. “I’ve never heard of anybody killing only once.” His tail flicks, his eyes seeking the distance again, as if he wishes to be out there, away. His mind is restless today. At heart, he fails to understand why this should be important. Caneo’s mind skips endlessly over the question, like hooves over polished stone.

        “We could look around,” he offers. “I don’t know anyone with black hair, but maybe we’ll find one.” And what then? he doesn’t ask. A battle? More blood? Justice – such a foreign word.

sxc.hu

* violence & magic use always permitted *
Do not tag Caneo unless you are starting a new thread you would like me to see! Thank you!



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