| 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 |
Abraham moved towards the Rotunda, tail flicking behind him gently. The remaining amulets tapped against his neck, and he knew his quest as almost complete. Soon, he would have magic running through his veins, heightening his prowess and dominance. Gwyneverre flew above him, clicking her approval at his dark and wondrous thoughts. She was powerful as well, her fire burning deep and long, unmatched in the face of battle. Her wings beat gloriously, sending her towards the roof of the Rotunda. Here, she had played and hunted on the stained glass. This would be a place she would always remember, just as it would be a place Abraham would always remember. With ease, the behemoth stepped up the stairs, mismatched eyes darting around. He and his bonded were alone, but the scents that mingled in his nostrils made his face contort gruesomely. This place, once held in such high esteem in the young boy's mind, smelled of piss and blood--and not the familiar piss and blood of his brother. Abraham growled deep in this throat, circling the circumference of the structure. Putting his head to the side, Abraham spat.
The titan moved and descended the stops once more, moving towards the water that lapped at the grassed shore. It never ceased to amaze Abraham how different the world was. This water was different than the water on the Endless Blue, where he had received Gwnyeverre, and it was different than the water in the crimson pool in the Deep Forest. The son of hellion drifted into the water, fetlocks covered in the cool liquid and soaking into his majestic feathers. Lowering his head, the crowned prince dipped his muzzle into the water, refreshing his palette as he was unfortunately required to do so by nature. It was so tedious. Eating, drinking, shitting, all of it tedious, a waste of time on the young stag's mind. However, it must be done, and Abraham should not waste energy on dwelling on something he could not change. Lifting his head once more, the behemoth looked out across the pond, mismatched eyes dancing across the forest opening as streams of water trickled down his damp lips. With a snort, Abraham turned his muscled figure to move back into the Rotunda.
"Reginald." He spoke plainly, knowing that, in time, his brother would be at his side once more.
reginald && abraham
the sons of hellion |
Image Credit
@[Reginald]
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 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. |
02-08-2015, 12:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-08-2015, 12:48 PM by Reginald.)
He smells her.
It does not matter if it’s only an echo in his mind.
Once, before, he had adored this place, these soaring pillars, these gorgeous pieces of stained treasure reaching for the heavens. It had been his place and his solitude, his throne where he reigned supreme, tinier than he is now, filled with just as much piss and vinegar to spread in his conquest. It had been his gift from the heavens, his domain and his comfort; his masterpiece, divine in the green glow of the grasslands. It had been perfect, once, before.
Before.
Before her.
He scowls as he peers into the pale shadows of the rotunda, for in his mind’s eye, he sees her specter flitting between pillars and shafts of light, just as ugly as she had been in the flesh, angrier and far more spiteful than she had been that dark, wet day. It does not matter that he had driven her away and succeeded in his endeavor to expel her from his halls—because now she haunts him with her rusty, detestable hide and those horrible black eyes that peer into his spirit, his soul, with a calmness that boomed forth in alto. He realizes her scent and how it had pulled at him them—and how it pulls at him now, a mere memory, yet now he understands the message in her odor that he had missed before, that crucial something that distracted him, set him ablaze, took away his reason and his personhood and replaced it with rage, rage, rage.
It affects him even now. He feels his blood coursing in his veins, growing thick and hot at the memory of heat and a detestable filly. He is disgusted with the primal, mindless way his body reacts to the thought of her, the idea of her need of a man; he becomes taut and poised, and blood rushes to places that he has no use for, now. A distraction. He cannot condone this enchantment with a filly he d e s p i s e s with every iota of his being. She is not for him to fuck. She is there for him to destroy utterly.
And yet, his body craves. He is convinced; she is a witch.
His brother’s call is a welcome balm now—the distraction from these distracting things an anchor to the world, to reason and sense and wholesome, male things. His body eases; the blood-rush is gone. And it is only then that he passes the rotunda, to meet his brother at the water’s edge, his hulking brother who has grown just as he himself had, whose dragon shines with scales that have settled beautifully upon her hide.
He does not hide the scowl on his features—it is not for Abraham, and his frustrations would be open.
“Abraham,” he says, careful not to spit his brother’s name, though his tongue longs for spitting, “This world is full of trash.” He cannot contain his indignation; it leaves him cool and imperious, and yet, the hint of fever does not seem to leave his brow.
reginald && abraham
the sons of hellion |
Image Credit
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
