the Rift


[PRIVATE] I've Got My Eye On You

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#1

THRANDUIL

Well that was fun. Shaking is twin horns the golden moves through the sands after leaving the Throat for the last time as a member for a while. Still there had been much to think on, and it had captured the gold’s mind so much he didn’t know exactly where he was walking to. Haldir on the other hand was enjoying this outing VERY much. His fawn eyes were wide with wonder, and ears lifted to hear the random words the golden would speak when they past certain objects. His lean legs were dancing on air at this wondrous world he was finding he lived in. So especially when they came over the rise to see the ocean and beach the young fawn nearly burst from the gold’s sides. Had he not called his bonded back the tiny creature would already be exploring along the beach.

The golden was not necessarily as excited as the small deer. His harks pinned back when he saw that tiny creature bounce without much care forward. Snorting the golden would call him back and at times nip the creature. His annoyance of the thin-Haldir had at least eased. The creature seemed to love the words the gold taught him, but he couldn’t be certain that the babe understood it all. Still it was at least getting easier. The fawn would stay where he was told, as long as the golden came back usually before too much worry occurred. He also was showing a love for the stars at night, something the golden, having been taught such feelings himself well, approved of. Still all the bubbliness of the childish youth was still most irritating. Such as now where he wanted to turn and skirt in front of the Edge to head up north to report, he was now here on the beach.

At last stepping onto the last flat stretch of beach, with the waves crashing playfully on the sands, the small deer stops and looks to the gold. This the twin horned had learned was when the small creature wanted a word. It was a strange development, but an encouraging one. “Falas [Beach]” Nosing the tiny creature forward the golden with no patience left speaks out. “Aear, nor, telio [Run, sea, play]” The excited babe needed no other release. He kicked up his heels and ran flat out for the water’s edge, loving the thickness of the sand, which clumped and balled up under his hooves. Ignoring whatever the gold thought of him, the small fawn danced about and nosed around the sands. At last though the waters caught his full attention. He stepped cautious into greet the coming wave reaching out to him. Its touch was still cool from the winter, sending shivers up his black spotted spine but he loved it instantly.

Slowly the small fawn worked his way in, and the golden was just glad to see his frolicking of before was over. True the golden had told him to play, but that was ridiculous display. Harks turned back he drags himself closer to the water, but stops a few yards out. The fawn by now was well up to his back. His boldness was dangerous though for though the waves were small that day, the current was stronger towards the deep. His hooves, cloven though they were, began to lose touch with the sandy bottom. His face, so happy and bright began to fall and he struggles to around.

The gold noted the difference. His twin horns rose and he watched without much concern, the fawn needed to learn what dangers were in the water, and also to show what strength he still needed to grow. Kicking and thrusting his head above the surface the fawn finally gave out one tiny forbidden bleat in effort. He was not precisely scared for drowning he knew not what was, but he did not like the taste of this water, and he did not like feeling out of control of his body. The golden for his part pinned back his ears, and gave a harsh reply at the call but moved into the ocean. He crowned head reached out, trying to get the least of his body wet that he could, and grabbed gingerly at the fawn’s neck. He dragged him back, but not out of the water. Instead the golden dropped him in the shallows, least the fawn should become fearful. It was not to be so though, for the tiny creature, glad to have his feet under him did dash across the shallows along the beach, spraying the golden as he went.

With annoyance at his charge clearly returning the gold moved back to the shore, shaking off his coat as he went. Glad though he was that the fawn did not seem fearing of the waves, but also smart enough not to venture so deep again, he waited for the new sensation to run its course. The golden of course loved the ocean, and especially to swim in its embracing depths, but to do so next to child was an unthinkable tarnish on his reputation.

"lieslieslies"
@[Deimos]

[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#2


Fresh from the raw, unrelenting squall with the crimson bull, the Reaper drifted amongst the shoals of the Endless Blue, savoring the seditious splendor of his victory. Like a bestial foe, like an ancient, arcane rapier, he’d polished his scythe on one more corpse, felled a beast who’d been sent to conquer him, to push him amongst the waves and gallows, to sink him into the depths of Neptune and Poseidon, to entreat him to the callous grails and graves. It’d been close, near, and while he wouldn’t forget the beckoning sirens, the cloistered waves, he also wouldn’t force away the satisfying efforts of his conquest. It’d been too long since he’d relished, tasted, forged his own path, tied the immoral threads of his prowess, of his pernicious harpoons, of his sharpened cutlass, and driven it straight into the heart of a fellow, barbaric monster. So, like a keen, avaricious devil, like a ferocious blade, he scourged and scavenged the flowing tides, the everlasting current, the hostile interludes, tracing over the foundations of his mastery – for the taste had been delicious, ambrosial, even as he laid in the sands and felt his lungs coated in fire. He possessed the element now, could sketch and etch the pulse of his father, of his ancestors lined and enameled amidst his veins, pervading, surrounding, like brimstone, like coals, like death and infernos mixed together to cultivate a mass of destruction and chaos. A threatening, treacherous muse of Lucifer, he clung to the outcrops and the dunes, slithered along the wake of the sea, and reminded the ocean’s song that it didn’t have him today. The marble monolith would have continued in his impassive, nonchalant onslaught, while his heart thrived with a rebellious tumult, a blistering, scorching supremacy, if his piercing stare hadn’t captured movement beyond the breaking tide: a deer, a fawn, adrift and bleating.

No sooner had he considered the strange circumstances did another familiar shape come into view, wholly unexpected and bizarre. The gilded Thranduil, Thief and specious soldier, arrived abruptly to drag the tiny animal away from its potential death, and the whole scene was an intriguing anomaly Deimos simply couldn’t ignore. Had the golden beast ensnared himself a companion? Did he actually care about something beyond himself (which was perhaps the oddest sentiment transpiring over the scene; because why did one heartless being bother about another’s sudden transformation?)? The notions conspired and clicked and ground against each other, and the Lord found himself staring, transfixed, by the odd elements and blistering peculiarities. Incapable of not pondering over the inconsistent manners, he maneuvered closer to the Thief, tilting his head in careful examination and scrutiny, as if deciphering and piecing together all the moments he’d known Thranduil, and not being able to fathom or process the new information. The cold, chilling calculations and machinations required answers, and the boyish curiosities of old flooded over his membrane and tongue until they poured in indifferent lacquer, one brow quirked, trapped and ensnared. “New friend?”

@[Thranduil]
tablebykite [horse©venomxbaby/bg©darkdevil16]

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#3

THRANDUIL


Standing like a parent in a toy shop the golden waits for his charge to lose interest and return to him so he can journey on. This ‘life experience’ was certainly not worth the time it was taking. Snorting the gold shifts his weight, but as he does a low familiar voice rumbles over the waves. The gold just wanted to call on his rank magic to slip away, but pity, his hooves would be seen in the sand. With a long sigh the gold turns to face the dark Reaper. “Deimos.” It slips out, and the gold nods curtly to the dark creature. It was quick to judge exactly when the dark horse had entered this scene and it took all the gold’s skill not to groan.

Haldir for his part was more than willing to admit his youthful recklessness. The voices called him to look back over his dark shoulder and see the gold standing next to yet another new creature. So many new and exciting ones to meet lately. This one was very very dark and had a long blue tipped horn. Maybe he had come onto the beach to play too! Dashing from the waves, sending water and sand alike flying about, the fawn raced up to the two, and slide to a stop in front of them. His wide grin and bright eyes nearly bubbling over at taking in this new creature. Little dark spotted body bouncing back and forth. The golden could have just speared himself through right there. Of all the creatures to catch him with such a naïve little annoyance, Deimos had to be the one. “This…”oh it pained him to admit he knew the fawn “is Haldir.” The tiny creature looked to the gold, brimming with happiness to hear his name. “Aear, telio [Run, play]” The fawn shakes his little head but bounces off all the same back into the waves to leap over and race through them.

The gold tries now to regain what little reverence his has left. He had actually been intending to visit the dark devil. Haldir of course had not been in that future, but the moment was rather ruined already. Honestly, the golden was more so doing damage control here. “I was on my way from the Throat to see you.” The gold can not meet the dark devil’s eye and so stares out to the fawn beyond still frolicking so gleefully in the waves. It made the gold pause for a moment and think back the Reaper’s own son. That colt had been rather light hearted as well. The notion gave the golden the strength to carry on. “My time there has ended, but there is news. Though they promise peace they are building walls.” Make it dramatic, give it a flare. Turning to look the Reaper in the eye he levels with him. “They will blow the land bridge, and soon.” Earth eyes note any changes, though doubt they’ll find any, then turn back to look at the ocean. He lets the long pause take over, dragging out his precious news. “Most of their herd is Pegasi, but they will ferry others over by magic passwords or boats.” Having given out the most valuable news the gold hopes to have regained his dignity. After blocking a stealth on his own armor for him, and witnessing the ridiculous displays of Haldir it was certain his reputation would be in shambles.


"lieslieslies"
@[Deimos]

[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#4


It took a great deal of composure and control not to laugh. The Thief’s high and mighty declarations, his specious regards, his lofting, lilting designs, were all being pierced, punctured, and scattered by the appearance of the little fawn. The Reaper didn’t know what he enjoyed more: to see a faltering, a chink, in the gilded stag, or to see him blubbering and muttering in discontent. The juvenile smirk, worn fondly in his youth and hardly since, chiseled its way through the entirety of his lips, locked and encased in case a chuckle yearned to float out from its compound. He said naught, choosing to bask in the glory of the moment instead, watching the tiny creature dash in and out of the waves (much like his own children had, rampaging and promising potency in future means and measures), until it decided to plant itself in front of his frame. Very carefully, stiffening, unyielding, rigid and taut, he lowered his cranium to stare directly into the eyes of the deer-child, extending his maw for one brief moment, catching the scent of the tiny creature, and bestowing it one childish rite with a short snort. Only thereafter did he recline his skull back to its former position, gaze pinpointed upon the rambunctious animal, and tones delving into their mocking fervor. “How fitting for you.” The meaning of his statement dissolved into the briny, salty air, and the darkening shades of his ire, of his worth, of his malice and menace, sharpened back into the scene, for Thranduil offered information. It’d been of little to no surprise the Thief’s time there had been shortened and erased; the golden had a way of making himself either a general nuisance or prying provocation. The snicker drew back into the King’s features, morphed from amusement into nonchalance and Machiavellian upheavals, pondering over the information the brigand had managed to gather in his short stead. Walls, explosions, and a promise of peace with hypocrisy lining its core (he could remember the last invasion, his General prowess in the heat of battle, watching as the winged mare fell at his gallows’ invocations; and now they’d have to wait even longer to even stretch themselves in one massive crusade) – like a hollow promise, like a vacant decree. How many times had they been given those? The monster’s stare narrowed into fine, blue slits, speculating and barbaric, tones plunging into a dangerous sibilance. “They mean to keep us out,” he brewed, just a smidgeon, just a hint, of all the mires and double-standards so woven and beaten into their cores from the days of the Edge, from the season of wandering, from the moments they yearned to snatch their children back from pious vagabonds. “Yet, when we do the same, we are proclaimed racist.” Even if it held the tremors of truth, it still awakened him to the preaching of the sanctimonious, how they could bear the same ideals but be heralded as victorious and glorious, while they were the treacherous, the despicable. “What reasons did they give?”

@[Thranduil]
tablebykite [horse©venomxbaby/bg©darkdevil16]

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#5
nk href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Great+Vibes' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>


The Reaper was having a right treat with this scene, and it made the golden’s ears fall back all the more. Especially as he looked down at the little fawn, staring into the bouncing babe’s eyes, the gold could tell the black was losing faith in the steeliness of his Thief. At least Haldir did not shrink in fear. It was a small victory but one nonetheless that the fawn showed not fear or weakness (besides being a child). The black spotted babe was quite delighted with this new creature, though it seemed he was like so many, and did not want to play. Still the waves were there to welcome him back. Brushing against his winter coat and giving his cheeks wet kisses.

At least it seemed the information had one back the golden some of his pride. Though really he was more annoyed that a creature so thick as Deimos could affect it. How tightly had he become bound to this herd? That was never in the plan. But, if it was one thing the Basin did well, it was reward loyalty, and the golden would not trade for a second the rank magic which settled on his shoulders so nicely. So the dark devil’s smugness at the gold’s dismissal from the Throat went ignored as well.

The dark devil speaks and the gold is in the end, slightly disappointed. The dramatic flair was for not, for the Reaper speaks what would be obvious to anyone. So the golden shifts his weight with a boredom as he looks back out over Haldir in the waves. The disappointment in the negative answer almost caused him to miss the Reaper’s question. The golden takes it as a long pause of thought. Actually, he needed to think this through. Had he heard of any reasons? Never more than usual…Well the gold would do what all brilliant people do when they don’t know anything, make it up. He did have some advantage, he knew Gaucho. “Protection. Gaucho thinks of nothing but his family and their safety.” He’d been willing to slay the gold over it just earlier. “He is strong, and has a few strong warriors, but only a few.” His mind rolled through the head counts at meetings, and then remembered a curious affair. “Though, not all seem to follow his family policy whole heartedly.” His mind rolls over to the meeting concerning their own pink spy and the absence of leaders. “Sohalia has left him, and a Pegasus by the name of Bucephalus now stands beside Gaucho as chancellor. Plus an electric blue bird boldy speaks against him at times.” So he exaggerated, but close enough.

This was it though. The golden would give no more. Not that he knew much more but, hey, if he had more it was not to be told. Control over it kept the gold from being completely under control. He did so hate that feeling, having learned long ago the ache it bears. Waiting for whatever dark comments come from the Reaper the gold moves the conversation on to something he preferred to talk about. “It seems I have need of your assistance in a small matter.” The gold turns to the black devil then again looks away. “Your block of my armor was most…appreciated.” What a gross sentence. “However, the runt that did it still seems to need…reminding, of why it is a bad idea to…break the treaty.” The gold again looks over to the Reaper, keeping his gaze. “A show of force, to remind others we’ve not grown slow and weak in peace?” That should appeal to the war monger. Now the golden shifts to face the Reaper completely. “Perhaps it all might be secured if I had but a taste of your magic on my side?” The golden now shifts his head a looks up in suggestion to his circlet. Nestled in here was a purple stone, an amulet, laying alongside three black ones. “Perhaps a moon amulet would do the trick?” A trick it certainly would do, for this clever little tale was nothing more than that, a tale. The golden would see that runt of the Edge pay by his own hand, not the magic of others, so what purpose would this amulet of Deimos serve? One last gift for a stunning lady hiding in their shadows. “Rewards, of course, might later make themselves known to you for being so generous.” Or they might not. At least though the golden was feeling more himself in this sly position.


OOC:: Feel free, if Deimos agrees, to shoot a crab or something around them. Magic need only be activated in the vicinity. (Not at Haldir please, of course XD ) And again take your time, I'm sorry I mentioned the rush. I just got too excited.
Thranduil
His words are clever and bright

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA

[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#6


The Lord mulled and ruminated, speculated and stared, listening as the waves rolled against the endless, unwavering tide, as the indifferent air pulsed and pervaded amidst the cool embers. The Throat seemed to have more in common with the Siberian lands than previously thought; protection, safety, security for their herds was an absolute necessity, and despite quarreling measures, they all still fought for the same goal. If the complexity bore any other roots, the Reaper ceased the process there, because he didn’t want to be like them, in the hot, blistering sands, and chose to brew and brood in the silence, watching the sea churn its power in nonchalant currents. While Thranduil continued, and likely conspired, the beast became wholly distracted by the thought, the notion, that they could one day be like the ocean: consistent, treacherous, deadly and always, eternally potent. A necessity, but a diligent curse, a building, dangerous storm, full of life, full of essence, full of pernicious schemes and clawing, grasping drifts pulling the inept off-balance, sending them careening, gasping, drowning in the wake of immoral demise – the lethal schemes paused as the Thief spoke again, embarking over appreciation (something the King received very little of and never truly expected, beyond gruff nods and turncoat smirks) of protection. Here he almost snickered again, because that was his role in their world, the power, the strength, the dominance, preserving, shielding, and assailing when brigands flourished and shadows crouched and condemnation thought it could spread its fire through his icy warren. He chipped and scalded and slayed, the glacial sword, the rapacious rapier, the voracious, ferocious cutlass. But the gilded fiend wanted more, another coveting mercenary, another avaricious infidel, because the world was never quite enough; yearning for spells, for incantations, only the eldritch behemoth could bestow. Death.

The heathen gave no indication to his agreement except a calculating stare, a Machiavellian persecution. A portion of him acquiesced purely out of iniquitous, licentious amusement, turning his frame towards the stag, channeling and funneling the puissant interludes of his toxic invocations. Did the beast seek to manipulate him? The notion was almost comical (and shouldn’t the other male have been more ashamed that he didn’t have the capacity to end the little rascal himself?) – but he’d still grant him his wish. If his soulless, heartless, relentless pieces and portions were spread further into the lands, into hearts, showcasing fear, displaying terror and triumph, than so be it. He wouldn’t argue or negate a ceremony of contempt, loathing, or chaos. The depth of his gaze scalded from Thief to circlet, where the amulet seemed to rest, innocent and forbearing – then the rapture of his immorality scorched upon a flock of gulls, innocently gliding high above Thranduil’s skull, searching for their next meal, for their next sprig of salty air. With little warning, other than perhaps a brief nod towards the swindler, the raw, ghastly, wraithful coils of his magic flowed to its bounty: conspiring with elegant, devilish contortions, unwinding, uncurling, uncoiling at its masters’ bidding, at the Mephistophelean charades. If they happened to fan too close, a little nearby, the Thief’s cranium, Deimos would say naught; his aim faultlessly maintained and marching towards the birds, waiting and watching for the moment they felt his ire, his wrath, his mastery, and dominance, the slash of his scythe. Only thereafter did the Reaper end his quiet onslaught, deep and blunt. “No reward necessary.”

[Suddenly this table seemed very appropriate! ;D]



DEIMOS
the reaper


texture - resurgere.deviantart.com

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#7



That bastard. The gold had stood there smug for a moment, until the dark devil’s eyes lit up with a mischief and spoke death. The gold straightened, his harks leaning back as the devil’s eyes lingered ever so low above the golden’s head. He had trusted too much. Back teeth ground together as all his nerves began to prickle and pin. The golden had apparently today much to learn about under estimating his opponents. His attempt to flatter that dark brute with this show of force had not disguised him. Had Deimos seen through him at last? The dark stag dips his horn ever so slightly at the golden’s head and despite all he trained the gold jerked back.

He almost missed it. Having his own mortality so boldly reminded of the golden almost forgot the reason for putting it on the line in the first place. Mind spoke to the stone on his circlet and it dark violet hues flashed brilliantly before smoking in a swirl of black and locking shut to ebony. It finally locked just as a gull fell with a sickening thud behind the gull. The gold grew disgusted in his gaze as he turned to look at the dead bird. This day was just going so fucking great. As if getting kicked out of the Throat and enduring Bambi over there were not enough. Snorting at the dead bird’s form the golden turns back to the black devil. “Very funny.” It was snide and crude, no more smooth accents here. The golden had had just about enough brushes with death today.

The amulet was full though. It was a little satisfaction anyway. It was safely caught and the black devil had been tricked at least in the reasoning for its bequeathal. Though teaching that little pathetic runt a thing or two about the laws of stealth and consequences was more than true. The golden turns to look out at the waves and sees Haldir. The black spotted fawn had exhausted himself in the waves and now only stood in the shallows watching the sand slip from under his hooves. “Haldir. Tolo! [Come!]” The fawn looked up with a wide grin, uncaring of the intensity of the command. He had heard it all his life. With a small spring in his step he glides towards the pair, sad to leave the ocean fun but always happy to follow the gold on adventures. He never liked being left behind.

Seeing his charge coming the golden turns back to the black devil. The golden was done for the day. He had had just about enough of playing servant and just about enough of misjudging others. And he most certainly had had enough of the large ego in front of him (never mind that his was four times larger). Looking over the dark devil he sighs out the last of his patience. “Is there anything I should know?” It was the most subtle hint he could give at allowing for new tasks and orders. The little fawn came up to the gold’s side, wagging his tail but still dripping wet, earning him a glance. Twitching his tasseled tail the gold waits, then after then he’ll stash the fawn and take a well-earned break from all the know-it-alls in his world. You know though, it’s amazing how smart a creature can be, but be such an unknowing hypocrite.


OOC::
Thranduil
His words are clever and bright

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA

[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#8


Amused and diverted, he enjoyed watching the smugness drain away from the complacent brigand, faltering away at the taste of death, gaze ignited in the pleasantries of lethal, toxic mirth. As the dying ebbs decayed and withered back into their carapace, their shell, their possessor, the Reaper stoked indifference along his face again, listened to the churn of the sea and the vexation of the Thief. The only other response Deimos mustered to the spark of indignation was a feral shrug, for the scoundrel had asked for his invocations, had coveted Lucifer claws and underworld guile. Thereafter, he was simply an icy prince scaling the rocks and crags of the ocean, drowning and shirking in its presence, never quite mustering enough power to freeze it over with the potency of his gaze. The monster’s ears flicked back and forth as Thranduil sighed, clearly done with their discussions, until the prompting of another place, another avenue, another region to explore. Is there anything I should know? Bestial machinations and barbaric manipulations scored and lanced, pried into the boundaries of their distinctions, what the future held, preludes to crusades, foreshadowing down shadowed, sheltered halls, where the avenues would seek their anarchy, their maelstrom, their bedlam. They could know many things - could slide into provocation, into kindling, into instigating, lingering between the lines of war and gloom, and the promise of damnation made him swing and twist his head back towards the gilded stag, illuminated by iniquity. He wanted victory and triumph for his land, for his sovereign, because all of their old records proved nothing but empty shackles and tired tethers, lost territories and chances never taken. And where could they find one, on the threshold of conflict and hostilities, where boughs had been broken and offers slighted? A seditious implication spoiled and dawned from the back of his throat, caustic and hollow, a quirk of his brow, an unsaid declaration the fellow sinner could read between. “Why not linger near another empire?” One not meshed and aligned with sand and dunes, one not cloaked and quartered in fog, mist, and cliffs, but a hidden gem, wrapped in falls and facades.

@[Thranduil]
tablebykite [horse©venomxbaby/bg©darkdevil16]

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#9



The moments seem to linger and it irritates the golden all the more. He was done for the day, done with this whole mess, his companion, just everything. Haldir of course was not done making a fool. The fawn still dripping wet takes on the little fawn takes on the task of entertaining himself while his waits. He jogs around the two statues, feeling tired but carrying himself high. Then he sees it. A dead bird. Only the babe did not know of death, nor it being a bird. Large ears fall back and he creeps up on the broken form. His little nose trying to wiggle out sense of what this thing was. Looking over the gold sees the scene. He sighs with the weight of a long day. “Hessa [Dead]” The babe looked up with a trembling eye, but the gold was already turned away.

The little fawn was most confused but his mind was put at ease by the golden’s tongue. He had a name to call this strange situation, and that made it categorizable and normal. Besides a little ghost crab was scurrying away, and the fawn was not about to let that thing get away without examination. As the babe runs off the dark devil finally speaks. The gold pauses, thinking through what he knows, only for a moment, before coming to the same conclusion. “Right.” It was all he said then moved to leave. A few steps forward he looks back at a noise. The babe had chased the crab but on a sharp turn lost his footing in the sand and tumbled. He was now a sandy, sea water mess. Rolling those earth eyes the gold moves on, jogging from the critical glances of Deimos. The babe picks himself up and with one last look to the dark devil scurries after the golden.



OOC:: Thran out =D
@[Deimos]
Thranduil
His words are clever and bright

Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA

[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.


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