the Rift


Chardonnay and Oxy

Reyna Posts: 6
Outcast
Mare :: Hybrid :: 17.2hh :: 6
Wyvern
#1
Reyna

The first thing she becomes aware of is the dimming of her scales. They no longer gleam and resonate with the powerful light of her inner magik. Reyna is no fanciful creature, she does not panic as she watches the glow of her blood fade from her skin. Each scale is still a perfect, tangible sapphire blue. Each ridge is as it should be, and they remain warm and comforting where they are embedded in her body. A soft sigh of loss is all that can be heard, rolling off the tongue with a sense of defeat. Intense orange gems look to the horizon, to the future she can no longer determine. Behind her lay thousands of miles and a home she could not return to, all for the sake of the shattered stone piece that lay warm and pulsing against her breast. A kaleidoscope of colors, chameleon, changing. Wrapped in white gold, a piece of her history, turned into naught but jewelry to those who would meet her. Decadent, useless. It sang for each of its brethren, seeking unity and wholeness. Reyna could not allow such a catastrophic scenario to take place.

It is far warmer than she remembers...the lowlands had been abandoned thousands of years ago, the dragons fleeing to the northernmost reaches of the earth where they built spires and towers of ivory. Reyna's home. Here, there are no paths of stone that lead into this battered world, no signs that tell her the name of this primordial land. Instead there is lush grass, the whisper of old frost on her skin that she feels as clearly as any ray of sunshine. A telling of time, of passing seasons. There were no seasons where she hailed from, only the intense chill of winter's grasp, frigid and everlasting. These lands sing a song of simpler times, of primitive violence and a love so strong it batters at her weathered heart.

Each sapphire hoof is placed with surety, a land that has no name no more daunting to her than a stroll down her favorite arctic path. There is nothing to fear in newness, that is something she has come to learn. A nomad must never long for a home that never exists, for they moved with the winds and the tides, swaying and changing with the shift of the magik within the earth. There is no sadness to be felt as they travel onward, because a home is not dictated by a piece of land. They are pawns upon the mercy of the Mother, and She will lead them true. For She does not belong to any of them, and they must obey her whims. Her presence is strong, wherever it is Reyna has landed. It is not prevalent in the way the little shadow was accustomed to, and her magik shied away from the foreign immortality that impressed itself upon her soul. For She will reign upon her soul forever, and Reyna will not allow another celestial to rule her heart or mind.

Bloodless locks swish in silent tempo to the jaunt of her gait, scales rippling as her crown rises to survey her surroundings. A meeting place, surely. She can feel the souls that have melted into one, see the marks they have placed so temporarily upon this place. Fleeting, meaningless. A threshold to be crossed, a ribbon to be snapped. A thousand magik signatures had imprinted upon the earth here, and yet none were permanent, none were coalesced into a singular entity. Travelers, weary and lost.

Reyna does not consider herself lost. A nomad is never lost.

Nonetheless, there are habits to abide by, rules to take into consideration. Perhaps it would be polite to do the same as those old wanderers had?

Elegantly she drops to her knees among the clover, curling and shifting until she is poised in the greenery, long white locks a contrast that draws attention to her charcoal form. Intimidating features are relaxed, refined as she gazes out across the horizon. Awaiting whatever shall confront her, the new path that her soul is bound to take.

devils don't fly
Credit

Reginald Posts: 165
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E.
#2

Some say you're trouble, boy Just because you like to destroy All the things that bring the idiots joy Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?

Females have captured his interest and attentions, lately. He detests this new obsession of his, this insistence of his body he cannot control. The day is lovely, his spirit enraged and harried surely by something intangible—for birds tweet and the wind blows, stupid and docile, wafting amongst trees he does not remember. Has he ever traveled so far east? They tower above him, looming giants, old as time itself; heralds of traditions immemorial. He does not know his mother trekked here once before; he does not detect he echo of his father’s footsteps ringing throughout. He is angry with the women in his mind, the blood that boils strangely, familiarly.

He sees her, sitting dumb and striking in a bed of clover. Grey eyes scan and pick the body apart, an expert stare by this time—prone to dissection. He wonders what’s wrong with her legs and why she chooses not to use them; he ponders the curious infection that splays across her skin, marring it with its brilliant sapphire hue, mismatched and ugly against the sable hide. It is some moments before he realizes they are scales, and those of a dragon, at that. Who would lay with a dragon? he asks himself, his mind flown into some jauntish fancy, no doubt due to the queer passions of his gut, the lovely day around him, what dragon would deign to lie with a mare, instead of eating her? He approaches; his gait is smooth, his eyes are even, his thoughts are his own. Perhaps he came back later, searching for sweeter meat.

It pulls a smirk from his lips, these grotesque things he imagines; when he faces her, finally, he fails to stifle the grin. Lady,” he greets, a boyish charm finding its way to his throat; he was undecided what to make of this thing before, this creature sitting in the clover. He decides now to play with it, and taste. “You’ve come to an...interesting place.” He smells her, that queer scent mixed with reptilian sweat and the spoor of a mare--a mare, he finds, and not the filly he believed her to be. She’s larger than he first realized, sitting in the clover—and so very different from the land he knows, her scent, the eeriness of those dully glittering scales. "Who are you?" he very nearly whispers, young and rakish all at once. He wonders where she is from—for her scent does not place her north, south, east, or west. She does not smell of sand or winter cold; of salt or the powerful odor of solid rock.

He wonders where else there is, on this world. Yes, he will play for now, and taste instead of bite. She presents a riddle to him; the riddle of an unknown world outside his own; the riddle of a mare that he has found himself interested in. Somehow, she seems so much less useless than before—but he does not know why.

[CRASHED FOREVER]
"talk talk talk"

day1953@pbase



--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!

--All force is allowed to be used against this character!



Rei Posts: 140
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14hh :: 5 years HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Anka :: Oriental Short Clawed Otter :: None TierRen
#3
Rei
“In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.”
― Michael Jackson


It was Birdsong! Birdsong! Birdsong! Rei felt her spirits rising up with the seedlings, stretching and groaning like the still groggy creatures emerging from hibernation.

Winter had been hard. It had taken its toll on the mare and she was glad to see it pass.

Rei came to a dead stop and cocked her head at the sight of the newcomer in the Threshold. Her brown eyes took in the exotic coloring of the mare before looking into the eyes of vibrant orange. What would they think of her color back in Lytninia? Would it land her as royalty or as something much less?

Either way some beings demanded respect simply by their appearance alone and this mare was one of them whether she was aware of it or not. Remembering her time as a filly in the privileged grounds with her mother Rei knew how to greet someone who had that feeling about them with ease. All too often she had witnessed her mother's side of the family get treated to the extra attention.

With flair that made herself grin Rei dipped her head while also fanning out one of her wings to its full span in a welcoming salute. Pride ran deeply in her veins but this was fun. It was like putting on an elaborate act. Winking at the mare Rei stood up and stretched before stepping over and laying down nearby. It was more of a plopping descent but she attempted to daintily position herself. It was a lot easier to look graceful whenever she was still.

"I am Rei of Dragon's Throat. Welcome to Helovia. You have chosen a wonderful time of the year to visit us." Or to make this your home, a lightheaded feeling fueled by joy surged through her at the thought. It always delighted the pegasus to dub a Threshold wanderer into a full fledged Helovian. "It is a wonderful land. You would not believe the things I have seen in my time here." A darker, uncharacteristically broody expression passed over her face at the thought of some of the recent things that she had seen. Part of her wondered if they should be turning newcomers away. Helovia was wrought with a terrible sickness that none knew the cause of. How many had been killed so far? How many more would there be?

A shiver overtook Rei and she brought herself back to the current moment. She would save future worries, for the future. "Cool breeze, huh?" It was almost funny to think that she had attempted to cover such dark thoughts with the excuse of a playful breeze.

Credits: Thank you Shady and Tamme!
Magic usage is okay.
Just ask before doing any actions that may cause a great deal of damage first.
I am also okay with being tagged.

Reyna Posts: 6
Outcast
Mare :: Hybrid :: 17.2hh :: 6
Wyvern
#4
Reyna

Silence envelopes her, as warm and woven with ease as the spring air that plays with her long icy tresses. October eyes slip to a close, lashes like butterfly wings as they kiss her cheeks, reveling in the abnormally warm zephyrs that curl and kiss on her coat. Welcoming her to this foreign land, deeming her a treasure to be gazed upon, of enough import to secure the attentions of the wandering denizens that were sure to be drawn by her presence. Was this the reasoning behind the wanderlust magik of the area she had found herself part of? Did it draw forth those that claimed seniority to attend to the lost and lonely? The song it sang to her soul was a peculiar one, a foreign language with only a few familiar words, and thus undecipherable.

Whether her suspicions are worthy of confirmation or not, evidence is presented to her nonetheless. From the oddly inviting shade of shadows brought upon by this abnormally warm land, a youth saunters forth, macabre and skeletal in the nomad's eyes. He is peculiar, and she watches him with the intensity of a lioness waiting for her prey to venture too close to her deadly claws. There is an arrogance in his form, a haughty toss of his head that does little to impress her. Even so, he is a satire in the cruelty of her past few hours, a quenched thirst to her parched curiosity. Her own tiara tilts to mimic him, eyes sharp like sphalerite gems. Unyielding, demanding he reveal his secrets to her.

Mischief curls on his dark lips, sin and secrecy like poison on his maw as it widens to taunt her with a demeaning name that arches a brow of her aristocratic features. "Boy," she rumbles, though it is cold and aloof, uncaring. A miming of his own words, but with a splash of cold that underlines the fact that she does not care to rise to his antagonistic ways. She does not deign to rise from her little bed of clover, gazing up at him calmly, watching the concealed emotions that flicker like rushing entertainers behind thick curtains. Hardly perceivable, yet there all the same, whether definable or not.

"It has yet to show me that it is as interesting as you proclaim," Reyna states, for all she has seen of this strange land is what lies around her, exempting the odd youth that seems to falter and quiver beneath her unwavering gaze. No smile stretches her lips, as intense as she had ever been, and though she does not care to take pleasure in his squirming there is no reason to put up a false pretense of kindliness. It seemed he would not be one to appreciate such a forced notion, as well.

Another comes, and Reyna's head tilts to observe the spotted fae that flounces into her little clearing with the same gaze she had cast upon the less friendly colt. Feathers fan in display, fine body put on a pedestal worthy of show as the exuberant soul exudes her joy and joviality with every delicately crafted fiber of her being. Slowly, for Reyna lives only on her own time and never the time of others, the mistress gathered her long legs beneath her and ascended to her full stature once more. The lady's introduction and the boy's unanswered question prompt the same response.

"You may call me Reyna, daughter of Priestess Scotia and Her Majesty Nerezza, heralder of lightning and shadows. Though in this land, those titles are meaningless." With unerring ease it is shrugged away, as if such intimate relationships mean nothing now that they are lost to her. Colorful irises turn to the boy who stares at her, as if hungering for a taste of her flesh. Idly, her tail twirls round the delicately boned structure of her left ankle, seeking his gaze. "You view me strangely. Are my scales unnatural in this...Helovia, you say?" Briefly her eyes flicker to the maiden at her left, and though it is said with clear uncertainty, it is as if she has rehearsed each word, with how composedly it leaves her lips.

"I do not doubt the wonders you have seen. Though I will reserve my judgment of this...place, for I have little substance to review." It is a clear, unspoken meaning that Reyna does not hold much weight in the words of these strangers. They may tell her it is a beautiful, perfect world. The queenly mare is unable to be fooled, for she is more than aware of the fact that such lies could spin off tongues as pure and naive as gold. The mare's shadow is noticed by the nomadic woman, but she reserves her desire to call her out on the obvious lie that slips from her mouth. More reasoning for why Reyna would not deign to leap for joy and profess her newfound love for this 'Helovia'.

"Your name remains a mystery, young warrior." It is not odd to her to label him as such, for where she hails from, all are proficient in battle. All are warriors, regardless of literal status. "Shall you share? I am most intrigued by you." Such blunt confessions do not give her pause, the orange fires burning in her eyes centered wholly upon the nameless youth once more. Oh, but she had a thousand answers for his tremulous questions. Surely he would desire a trade?

devils don't fly
Credit


@[Reginald] Still open to all!

Reginald Posts: 165
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E.
#5

Some say you're trouble, boy Just because you like to destroy All the things that bring the idiots joy Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?

The grin becomes genuine as he listens to her response, no longer the shadow of a ludicrous thing stretched across his face. He is shocked, sincerely; her words are even and biting, speaking tangible things instead of heated by some cloud of oblivious, buoyant passions. His interest settles, fixed in his mind. Thousands upon thousands of inquiries invade his skull, stretched for truth like feelers for salt in the ocean current; his hypotheses morph and evolve from the solid truth of an ignorant filly. Mares, he guesses, are different creatures entirely; they are solidified from the vexing puddle that is the fillyish pestilence, perhaps into something that perceives instead of feels, that sees the path they walk instead of rushing forward, blinded by tears, or arrogance, or hatred.

He forgives this arrogance, easily; he is amused by her. He settles backward, right hind cocked beneath him, easing into his stance as he gazes on her clover-swathed form. A ghost of laugher slips his tongue when she calls him boy; it escapes again, louder this time, when she confesses her ignorance of the bedlam that has encased Helovia, the chaos that adores to shift mongrels from left to right, helter-skelter, to lose their heads to unfathomable panic, to piss in places where they don’t belong. “It will,” he says, simply, his warning, his only hint. He does not care for her ignorance—or, truly, her enlightenment on the battlefield she deigns to enter. He only knows that she is interesting, for now.

Another joins them—drops from the skies in a burst of black and ivory, feathers flying everyplace, loosed from their mistress’s wings. Reginald’s ears pin swiftly; he edges away from the sudden explosion of a Pegasus. Yet another mare, whose words bubble and froth from her mouth eagerly, almost endlessly. He narrows his eyes, listening to her speech, looking passed the vague annoyance of shrill notes to the information she so willingly gives. The Dragon’s Throat--he does not know this place. He is enthralled, surely, because he cannot sanction an unknown territory—and also because of a peculiarity to her scent that captures his attention ludicrously, harshly. The scent is familiar; she is a stranger, but the sun-baked something that lingers about her stirs in his memory, doing nothing to quell his earlier restlessness. He does not like her for this simple reason, for a transgression she could do nothing to prevent.

His attention returns to the lady of dragon-scales, a gilt title flowing from her mouth in a familiar way, a lilting cadence of annoyance that he has come to associate with blueblood brats--then it is dropped, suddenly and mercilessly, and he finds her to be honest. His bemused pleasure with her rushes back into place, pushing away the disgusting memories that aggravate, and haunt. The sensation vanishes completely when she directs a question to him; his ears perk forward, his striking gaze uncensored as his curiosity is given permission to express itself. “Not on dragons, no,” he answers her, soft and frank. He settles again into a stance of ease. “Many here bond with dragons…though not in the same way.” His smile is charming; he does not mean to be so provocative. It is truth, and he feel s no shame in admitting his confusions. She asked.

His name is a mystery to her? Well, it had always remained so for everyone, for the longest time; who is there to give himself to, to lay bare his identity? But she has reason; he’s here to taste and not to bite, and it is only right that he gives his name in return for her own lengthy, useless title. It is only fair. “I am Reginald,” he states, his name a rasp that gargles in the pit of his throat. He’s not one for titles or ancestry; he is good enough of a thing to be, supremely so.


"talk talk talk"

day1953@pbase



--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!

--All force is allowed to be used against this character!



Rei Posts: 140
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14hh :: 5 years HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Anka :: Oriental Short Clawed Otter :: None TierRen
#6
Rei
“In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.”
― Michael Jackson


Rei's mouth twitched at the mare's speech pattern. Words slipped from her mouth to float around them like a golden mist. This strange mare was what Rei's mother had been. Everything that her mother had attempted to teach her to be. But the pegasus had inherited much more than her father's freckled hide. This newcomer almost seemed cold though; how easily she dismissed everything. Bright eyed Rei's gaze brushed fondly over the blooming forest. How did she not see the excitement that was taking place around her? The forest was coming out of its slumber.

Rei's eyes widened and then slit at the hulking stallion. What had that look been for? Her black ears pressed against her neck. "No need for such looks. I have not done a thing to you." Rei shook herself shaking away the irritation he had cast upon her. Now look at what he has done! In her irritation Rei's feathers had ruffled up; with a few muffled grumblings she began to smooth them.

Quietly she listened to Reyna and Reginald speak. As her feathers settled back into place so did her good mood.

"Where are you from?" Her gaze fell upon Reyna, if her ears reached forward any further they would snap. Surely the scaled newcomer had come from a land filled with excitement.

Rei paid no mind to the stallion that had already managed to rub her wrong in their few moments of knowing each other. His look should not have bothered her so badly but sensitive Rei could not shake the sting she felt from someone not appearing to like her.

OOC: Not satisfied with this post at all, the next will be better!

Credits: Thank you Shady and Tamme!
Magic usage is okay.
Just ask before doing any actions that may cause a great deal of damage first.
I am also okay with being tagged.

Reyna Posts: 6
Outcast
Mare :: Hybrid :: 17.2hh :: 6
Wyvern
#7
Reyna

There is a prominent underlying tension that exists between the two strangers that come to meet her. Though Reyna has no business wondering over such gossip and dramatics, there is a mild curiosity as to what has inspired such a ruffled expression from the feathered fae. Perhaps she has missed something in her constant switching of her own gaze? After all where she hailed from it was not only customary but respectful to hold another's gaze while speaking to them. To not do so was highly insulting. Perhaps the shadow boy had made a silent remark with his expression? Or was the spotted dame merely sensitive? Whatever answer lies behind their relationship, whatever dynamic it may hold, Reyna's focus lands on the smile that spreads over the boy's face like a bloodied daybreak. He is simply fascinating, not that the doe to her left is not of course, and Reyna finds him to be much like a peculiar puzzle. Something to be played with until solved or thrown away in frustration. Oh, but Reyna had patience abound. If rewards such as his sincere amusement lay at the heart of such a transfigured, warped masterpiece, then Reyna would wholeheartedly devote her attention to solving the mysteries that seemed to cling to him like wisps of smoke.

Her own smile rises like a creature from the depths of an eerily still lake, small and reserved but as sincere as the one he proffers her. His laughter is all that can widen it, for she is as equally amused by him as he seems to be of her. Though he is but a hatchling to her, as if eggshell remains should soon be found with how his body still searches for the skies too quickly, the dark wisdom in his gaze reminds her of the exiles in Vulthane. Reyna did not yet know of the fact that her lifespan was significantly shorter in this realm, and as such considered him but a flightless hatchling, it only thusly intensified her curiosity. Rei, on the other hand, was like the exuberant snow dragons that happily showered the denizens in snow, crafting each snowflake with pride and inventiveness that Reyna could appreciate. As happy and pure as the snow they ruled, and nearly similar in color, Reyna had already attributed the two of them to the closest things she knew. They were contrasts, and she was pleased to have them vying for her attention, regardless of their motives.

Surprise is the first emotion to have crossed her face in this entire encounter, as the young shadow claims that creatures bond with dragons. "This place does not have the magik signature of draconic beings. It is very faint. Have you mere hatchlings? A dragon is tied to the element it is most in tune with, I would not fail to sense them. Forgive me, my culture must differ from yours, I am not normally so inquisitive." Though she asks for forgiveness verbally it is a mere formality, her surprise mingling with faint doubt and confusion. Bond? What could the boy mean by such a word? Mate was a better adjective, surely? Or were such hybrids nonexistent in this Helovia land?

"Reginald..." she sighs the name, letting it roll delicately on her tongue, holding her silence sincerely before giving a will-o-the-wisp smile and nodding regally. "A noble name for such an intriguing shadow boy. A very powerful name, in my land." It is the quiet snowdragon dame that draws her attention next, seemingly casting off the distemper she'd held prior to any verbalization. On her lips is the contrast to Reginald's explanations, a query that flutters into Reyna's ears like an overexcited butterfly consumed by curiosity.

"I hail from Vulthane. As far into the northern reaches as you can imagine, surrounded by dragons and magik of Olde. Where ivory towers rise high into the skies, and mechanical birds entertain young hatchlings. I could regale you with fantastical stories, for the hundreds of years I have lived in my land." It is spoken so freely that it signifies the lack of knowledge Reyna has on the subject of equine longevity. She has seen mountains shift and die, new ones steadily climb to take their place. Mortality is a foreign concept to her, for it only existed when a magnificent creature was slain. Her mentors and the Priestess Order had lived for countless centuries, their magik powerful and almost as ancient as the Olde. Her eyes drift back into another place, another time. The stone on her breast glows faintly as if disturbed, drawing her attention back. Clearing her throat softly she turns to Rei once more. "Though I am far more interested in what the two of you consider home in this...Helovia." Listening and absorbing, after all, were just as important as sharing and teaching.

devils don't fly
Credit


@[Reginald]

Reginald Posts: 165
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E.
#8

Some say you're trouble, boy Just because you like to destroy All the things that bring the idiots joy Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?

*"No need for such looks. I have not done a thing to you."

Interruption. Reginald’s thoughts hold; his contemplations on the ugly, interesting lady of dragons are dashed against the pitted rocks of the Pegasus’s words. He turns to look at her fully, this mare who smells of rock and sand and warmer places—a scent he unwittingly despises by association. He has never seen this mare before, this lady so quickly affected by the rhythms of his body, the tempo of rage that beats steadily beneath his skin. Things leap within; sudden anger, quick, dashing, yet it spars also with a savage joy he has never recognized, a depraved satisfaction at her reaction to him. Do his emotions really hang about his visage so easily? Is his wrath so physical, so present and tangible, that one can feel them radiate outward in molten, sickening waves? He learns. His hatred of another filly—one he cannot even contemplate without his lips curling in disgust—has seeped into the regard of this nameless speckled wench. He had not noticed before; he will be vigilant.

Does he care for her distress? No, not truly; he refuses to believe such foolish falsehoods. He is curious, though, for he has heard the name of a strange place, an unfamiliar territory blotted against an acquainted plan. She must be from there; this Pegasus hails from there as well. It would not do to try and fabricate something horrible with her so that he may see these mystery lands—but this mare? She is an opportunity. He does not want her to leave. Not yet.

So his brows rise as he looks at her—truly looking at her for the first time. He decides she’s ugly. He discovers that he detests spotted creatures. “You startled me,” he says plainly; boyish voice soft, explaining his plight. His tongue is smooth; it speaks no lies. Feathers had flown everywhere, suddenly. “If I’ve done the same to you, I apologize….It was not my intention.” His anger is not, was not, for this spotted creature. There are greater fools for vexation. He smiles again, quickly—becoming accustomed to the action, making it easy and genuine. Females seem so careless, so flighty; they move across the earth with abandon, leaving a wake of restless destruction, crashing into others, creating mischief—then whine in your ear if your eyes are not correct, or your smile is not easy and genuine.

His attentions are drawn back to their guest: the lady Reyna, sitting regent and pointedly sapphire in her confessed misperceptions of Helovia’s dragons. He does not know what she means by the magics she claims not to feel; her concepts are lost to him, utterly senseless. He blinks; his shoulders shrug. “I’ve never known a dragon to be large,” he says slowly, chewing on the thought that guides his tongue, “They breathe fire, but they’re small, flitting through the skies on leathered wings…” He thinks back to his Abraham’s dragon, she of white scales—that serpent that adorns his brother’s sable, corded neck. She was a tiny thing, he remembers; he still remembers her egg, and how its intrusion had puzzled him greatly.

He accepts her dry praise with equanimity; the swell of pride is evident only within the burbling cauldron of his inner passions. If there is greatness in his name, he will be the one to place it. He listens to her fantastic stories, stories of dragons and their roosts, their machinations, their fanciful architectures and evidently superior cultures. All of it falls on Reginald’s ears the same way as his father’s dragon fire--something long lost, something best forgotten; a relic of greater times, or perhaps the dream of something superior to life. She claims to have lived hundreds of years; he believes her a liar, and smiles in those orange eyes, excited by it.

Words return to home and a quandary that returns to the forefront of his mind. “I was raised in the wilds of this land,” he explains quietly, “I’ve never known a herd. I began to wander these hostile climes the moment I was able to wander from my mother’s tit.” Hmm, and now he cannot find her again; what cruel irony fate has decided to fall upon him. He looks again to the speckled Pegasus. He remembers that her name is Rei; he supposes it’ll be polite to address her as such. “Rei,” he begins, careful, hesitant, almost sincere, “You say you hail from the Dragon’s Throat? I’ve…never heard of such a place. I’m…curious.”


@[Rei]
"talk talk talk"

day1953@pbase



--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!

--All force is allowed to be used against this character!



Rei Posts: 140
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14hh :: 5 years HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Anka :: Oriental Short Clawed Otter :: None TierRen
#9
Rei
“In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.”
― Michael Jackson


Her black ears were split between the pair. Rei's head spun as she tried to figure them out. The mare's speech was so eloquent and she was so elegant that the pegasus felt like nothing more than a pesky fly buzzing about. Then the stallion had rubbed her wrong from the get go. It was an uncomfortable situation, there was no denying that. Her eyes scanned the Threshold around them looking for an excuse to duck out. Silently Rei sent up a prayer for some other friendlier sort to prance into their midst.

"It is okay!" Mentally she had now checked him off as a friend, maybe he wasn't the newly crowned king of grumps afterall. Quick to befriend anyone she came across her ears had sucked up his apology and it bypassed her brain for analysis and went straight to her heart.

"Yeah, that's my name." Eyes lit in excitement Rei began to tell him about her lovely home. "It is everything you dream of and everything that you hate meshed into one." A fond smile danced across her features.

"It is terribly hot sometimes, so much so that the air from your lungs seems to flee to find cooler places. But whenever it rains in the Throat it is one of the most brilliant things to be seen. It is wide open sprawling land so you can see the rain come towards you. While you are still rejoicing its approach it comes upon your spot and the droplets hit the dry ground with these plopping sounds before the thirsty ground pulls the water in."

Throughout her talking Rei had loosened up again. At the start she had been cautious and thought about the answer, but by the end her eyes were closed blissfully as she thought of her home.

"I could take you there. Either of you; or both. Just let me know anytime you get a Throat itch!" Rei grinned halfheartedly at her own terrible attempt at a pun. It had gone nowhere and wasn't well thought out. She just couldn't get to feeling confident around Reyna and the stallion. Had he introduced himself? Why couldn't she remember his name? Staring at him she tried to place a name to his face and waited to see what either had to say.

@[Reyna] I am so sorry for the wait! I had thought so hard about posting back that I guess I convinced myself I had.

Credits: Thank you Shady and Tamme!
Magic usage is okay.
Just ask before doing any actions that may cause a great deal of damage first.
I am also okay with being tagged.

Reyna Posts: 6
Outcast
Mare :: Hybrid :: 17.2hh :: 6
Wyvern
#10
Reyna

They come together like a clashing of ice and fire, two extremes of innocence and depravity that bite and retreat cowardly before her eyes. They are mere children to her, and she sees in them squabbling pups, biting at the other's nape only to run to mother's softness when sharp newling teeth bite back. Cocking a hind leg, Reyna watches them, sees the shadow of a lie that crosses over the blunted teeth of the one that so catches her eye. Further amuses herself with the saddening naivety of the winged one, who drinks his manipulation like a parched wolf would a poisoned spring. It has little to do with her, so she does not intrude, merely observing the odd smoke and mirrors act that had never dared to exist on Vulthane. Draconic children were not so cruel as to delve into mysticism and deception without necessity. Seeing it come to life like a blackened rose blooming in the snow around them is a new experience, one to add to her thousands of lives already lived.

Reyna is patient, and she knows as well as she knows the pattern of her own breaths that their attention will turn to her in time, like polar magnets of attraction while they shove one another away before her eyes. Sure enough, Reginald is first to consider her once more, meeting the calm stare of her hypnotic october eyes. Though there is a sense of indignation, to be told that dragons in Helovia are small (a horrifying thought, to her), it is something she must take in stride. Helovia is not Vulthane, and the priestesses would scold her for not opening her mind to the possibilities of other planes, other worlds and the rules that surely govern them.

A frown of contemplation pulls at her pretty, black lips. Far from upset, she merely considers what the boy has told her. "An odd thing, but I suppose I shall discover such things in time." Reyna was not one to allow herself to be ignorant, she would seek out such information until the need to know had faded into nothingness and she was contented.

It is not until words slither like an oily serpent from the boy's lips that she regards him with any different emotion, and her smile is nearly fond as it folds her lips subtly. "I, too, am a nomad. My kind never keep to one place. Perhaps I can ask you for your knowledge of these lands later?" Discovery and adventure were appealing, but Reyna did not like unwelcome surprises, and Reginald's existence alone was a sign that impure souls lurked in the shadows of Helovia's being.

The little one, Rei (truly she is not little, but her personality pulses with innocence, and she is young beyond belief even in comparison to the physically younger Reginald) draws her mind. Eloquent phrases detail a life she cannot imagine, one of heat and distress painted in the fantastical light of beauty and an adoration Reyna cannot comprehend. How can one love a land? She has loved a thousand lands, a million particles beneath her hooves and a billion more that she had absorbed inside herself the many years she'd lived. Land was intangible to her, for though it existed beneath her, solid like masonry and the mantle of the inner earth, it was merely an idea. The earth ruled itself, after all, and she was merely sustained by it.

Her curiosity drives her, and her head tilts to regard Rei with a new intensity, as if intending to pry the flesh from her bones and reveal the answers through brutality, for daring to hide these things from her. "I would like to see this land you speak of. Especially if it is called the Dragon's Throat. The idea of permanent residency is...strange to me." A soft snort punctuated her thoughts, and for the first time since she'd stood, Reyna moved forth on light hooves. "I would be grateful if you were to take me there."

devils don't fly
Credit

Reginald Posts: 165
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Ka'Mate :: Harpy Eagle :: None & Ka'Ora :: Harpy Eagle :: None M.E.
#11

Some say you're trouble, boy Just because you like to destroy All the things that bring the idiots joy Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?

The grin is easier than ever, a tad more genuine—for he is deeply impressed with himself, amused by these events. It is this indulgence that pardons the spotted Pegasus from her flighty anger and a scent she cannot help, a grudge she does not know. She’s become useful to him, and the chuckle in his throat is stifled behind a handsome, granite mask. There is no reason to laugh in her face—but oh, she speaks a terrible pun, an awful play of words, and the glee slips from his throat, tiny wisps that are lost in the Birdsong breeze. He is laughing at her adorably, painfully terrible joke. He grows accustomed to this game.

Blue Reyna, her of dragon scales—she confesses herself a nomad, expresses interest in his knowledge of the wilds beyond. He dips his head to her—grey eyes flash, wondering briefly, in a heady and boyish sort of inspiration, if he could play the game with this one as well? She speaks sense—her passion’s cold and level, but there’s still a gash underneath her tail, a gash he finds himself sorely aware of. Mares are crucial, and he does not know why. “You’re welcome to it, later, if you should wish it,” he says; words become smoother to him, easier to speak. He does not rasp anymore, there is no sickness on his breath, weakness in his vowel and his tongue. It’s so easy, so spectacular; he swells from inside, enjoying this, falling in love with himself more, and more, and more.

However,” he continues, his eyes flickering back to Rei, “I find myself just now more interested in a place I’ve never seen before, myself.” The question of a herdland crosses his mind—the detestable situation of living in a swarm of others, in their hot bodies, their horrid stench and unworthy shit piling around him, disgusting, lesser. He cannot fathom his father’s need in protection of so many others; he cannot forgive his father’s lack of a care for his missing mother.

Could he do it? Stand to live amongst strangers in a land that must be shared, drink from a pool or a river where so many mundane lips have touched—sleep amongst dreaming, useless cannon fodder, partake of the same grass in the same fields? Sweat in the heat with others, bask in the rain to the cries of other, foolish fillies and mares, such as these? Could he ever do something such as this?

Is it necessary?

“I will follow you as well,” he says evenly, almost pleasantly, to Rei. He will….see this land, for himself. Consider its heat, its burning sand and the promises of gorgeous rain. He will ponder it, the idea of a herd land—its necessity in future schemes, and what it would mean to a monster.



@[Rei]
"talk talk talk"

day1953@pbase



--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!

--All force is allowed to be used against this character!




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