the Rift


[OPEN] fountain of youth

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#1


v o l t e r r a + v é r z é s

Water.

A boat trip needs water. The only problem about that is the searing Tallsun heat - Volterra has forgotten the last time he took a long, cold draught of cold water. Everywhere in Helovia it is lukewarm and filled with dead flies, hardly appetizing. As a result, the beastling has decided to use his brain, and has chosen instead to come to the land of snow and ice. There is less here than there was when he came here last, the snow spread out to patches here and there, but there is enough for what Volterra intends. Snow is cold, as he found out to his detriment last time he was here. When it melts it will surely remain cold, or so his logic suggests. It will hopefully last longer as well, and who knows how long they will be aboard the boat?

He holds the bucket between his jaws, Vérzés riding on his favoured nook between the titan's broad shoulders. The flesh of his withers is already hardened by the scars from the red's claws, and he wears the lacerations with pride. Today he intends to use the crimson war-dragon for more menial ends, as he drops the bucket on its side and signals with his mind for Vérzés to swoop down and hold it in place. Through their mental bond he can feel the blood-dragon's displeasure at being used for something that doesn't involve cutting into things, but he is of an age where he is still quite obedient, and obligingly drops down to secure the bucket. Volterra begins to use his nose to scoop snow into the bucket, the cold on his nose rather pleasant against the heat on his back. ""





@[Nymeria]

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Arya Posts: 50
Hidden Account
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 2
Minx
#2
Hundred years, hundred more
Someday we may see a woman king, sword in hand.

Swing at some evil and bleed.


Arya carried a bucket in hand moving with a leap in her step. She knew the perfect place for this quest, the north. Despite the impending doom upon Helovia, there was something eager in the way she moved. In her mind, she could finally be a hero. She could finally aid in something beyond herself. The huntress was doing what she desired most.

With Rhoa se pushed them northward with a bucket in mouth. She noticed a figure off in the distance and so she drew forward at a swift trot. “Hey!” She called through her the handle in her mouth. As she drew closer it was a young boy with his dragon. A smile passed over lips at the sight of their team work. “That’s really clever.” She glanced over at her partner. “Hey, why don’t you hold the bucket in place like the dragon Rhoa? I’m more used to the snow than you are so I can push it in.”

[Arya & @[Rhoa] ]
"talk talk talk"


• tag in opening posts only 
• violence/magic is permitted. maiming/death is not without prior permission

Rhoa Posts: 175
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 3 HP: 65 | Buff: ENDURE
Odd
#3

.....


Rhoa

I belong anywhere but inbetween.


I like that Arya knows what she's doing. She seems to have a plan, and although originally that plan was vowing to murder my father and screaming at me, I think we've really worked out our differences. Although ... well. Given that Father is now technically a murderer, I wonder if her feelings have grown stronger on that matter. I don't think I'll bring it up.

I've never been this far north before, and I try not to shiver quite so obviously when she's looking. I pretend that I'm merely holding my wings to my sides, rather than using my feathers to trap what little heat my body is giving off. As she suggests that I hold onto the bucket the way the dragon is, I nod and smile.

I think i'd do anything she asked at this point.

"Yeah. That's a good idea."

I cast a sideways glance at the dragon as I hold the bucket steady, glad indeed that Arya will be the one to fill it. How did our neighbor here get a companion like that? I think my jealousy could fill this bucket 10 times over. I silently grumble to myself, as I try to help scoop the snow in.


TAG: @[Name] | # WC | Notes if needed.

FOXX


Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#4


v o l t e r r a + v é r z é s

Ears pivot and massive head turns as he hears a voice - a rather complimentary voice. Clever, it calls him, and he can't help but feel himself swell slightly with pride like a preening bird. "Thanks!" He's transported back to his younger weeks as a beam spreads across his face, christened by a snow moustache. A small hiss comes from his feet and he looks down to see Vérzés looking decidedly unhappy, his claws rasping into the bucket as he pulls it back up onto its base, three-quarters full with snow.

Another filly arrives, and again his male pride takes a big boost as they copy his idea amongst themselves. "Are you two sharing together in the boat?" he questions, looking between them. Maybe they're sisters, although he can see very little resemblance. "I'm Volterra, this is Vérzés." The dragon chirps, forked tail lashing as he clambers up his bonded's leg to nestle into his withers. Claws dig into the colt's scarred flesh, but he barely notices the pinprick sensation.





@[Nymeria]

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#5

The snow cracks and crunches beneath her twilight hooves, sending up a puff of silver dust to wreathe about her dark ankles, glittering patterns of infinitesimally small flakes. Chilled skin quivers subtly over warm sinew, breath fogging into curlicue clouds as she moves towards the northern reaches of Helovia, taking pleasure in her idle (broaching on lethargic) pace. In the thin of her summer coat, it tastes like winter here, supported by her chapped lips and papery lungs; if she were to take a wrong turn, perhaps she would be lost to the winter labyrinth. Maybe she would freeze in entirety, and the snow would swallow her up.

Nymeria lost, forever and always.

On the horizon, dark against the glassglow, sleek contours of the steppe, she observes a clustering of equines. Even if not for the drop of violent red against the feral backdrop warning her of her brother's dragon, she would've recognized each sweep in Volterra's sinew, each curve in his spine. Wombmates; one, forever.

"Ne felejtsd el!" Slender limbs break out into a loping trot, swallowing up the distance between her and her pig-headed brother in a matter of moments. Irises (bright as rubies) flick towards the unfamiliar pegasus colt, brows curling upwards in an expression middling between vague amusement and distant coolness; and then her eyes slide towards Arya, a cordial grin flickering on her lips. "I'm Nymeria, and he is Lilómiel." The skull-painted daughter lifts her dainty muzzle skywards in an easy, sweeping gesture meant to capture the black dragon tumbling through the sky far above.

Slender ears twitch, nares cusping to drink in the smell of salt on the breeze; lids widen, almost idly, to see Vérzés and the bucket. Clever.

Volterra: 1
Nymeria: 0
Damn.
Nymeria & Lilomiel
Credits and Lineart


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions



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