Against the Grain [Finished]

the Rift

[OPEN] Against the Grain [Finished]

Hector Posts: 262

Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5

Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE

Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream

02-05-2015, 09:52 PM

No Time for Lies and Empty Fights

As the breath of their father Sun diluted the grim night at last, Hector stood by the flame of the Diviner with chin afloat, in silent prayer. Another day. May every step I take honour you.

The Festival had begun, and the tawny soldier had been tasked with daily dawn patrols along the borderline – a responsibility that he took to wholeheartedly, and he turned after a pensive sigh and final glance across the dancing golden light. Glorious wingspan unfurled, reaching into the soft hue of the early morning and shaking the blanket of stiffness night brought from their span; and he trekked by foot first towards the north, at a steady canter to warm the lax canvas of muscle beneath his hide.

Sweat lathered quickly between his thighs and beneath the rapid swing of pointed elbows. Even these first weeks of Tallsun, mild warmth lingered through the night – an omen perhaps, because the days to follow grew hotter and hotter. With the soft green of the oasis looming in the distance ahead, Hector collected his stride expertly at the pinnacle of a small rogue dune and hurled his formidable size into the air. Wind flurried as feathers sliced the air with enough power to stir loose gravel and scatter it beneath, and he lifted gradually into the brightening blue sky – to the east was painted a magnificent sunrise in golden-red, but he had not the time today to spare a second glance.

Less than one hour later, the soldier was drifting in vast circles above the northern border – the land-bridge – and a dim figure hesitating there drew his interest.

Veci, pay our guest a visit. Show me what you see.

The invisible Boggart dipped instantly as though wind himself, from the flank of his watching bonded and soon wobbly vision of the silver-tinged stallion were clouding Hector’s mind. The stranger stirred no memory – though no alarm either, all the same. He was simply waiting it seemed for one of their herd to arrive; without further delay, the heavy shadow he cast upon the terrain below began to grow. But he hesitated and his swoop ceased suddenly, when sight of another stepped into frame. Though fierce eyes narrowed instantly, they softened quickly after – Cera, the child of the Gallant, had also noticed the stranger.

As he landed amid furiously twisting wind, wings folding flush against heaving flanks, the giant touched a tender nose to the thigh of his brother. He was not sure what already had been spoken between the pair, and so set himself quietly to the side – even if only to support the painted Throat's Forger in presence alone.