the Rift


Constellations [o]

iscariot Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1
[Image: 2yyxfu0.jpg]
He moved with the wind, allowing it to embody the emptiness in his heart and drag him forward — at least forward was not backward, because to turn back now would be to condemn himself to certain madness. Time had melted into an oblivion which he knew by name; he knew it's voice when it whispered bittersweet memories against his cheek, and he knew the way it wrapped it's cold fingers around his throat... oh yes he knew it well. He always had. And he couldn't remember how far he had travelled from home, from the demons that snarled at his heels. It had been months, surely? Iscariot no longer had any way of knowing these things, too lost in his own desolation.

The auburn-skinned stallion paused, quite suddenly, breaking free from the breeze and took a moment to study his surroundings as though for the very first time. The trees loomed into the heavens and shadows lurked, snickered, in the corner of his eye; how different this forest was from the desert kingdom he had ruled over. It had been a harsh landscape full of heat and aridity, but it had held a beauty that, as yet, remained unparalleled in Iscariot's eyes and memory — aside from... Severina. Her name slashed and sliced at his heart, and the old scar on his chest began to throb as though reopened once more. Time, it would seem, was yet to heal this particularly tragic wound.

Limping onward, Iscariot felt the numbing ache of his club foot, and though he did not visibly display his discomfort it was clear that sooner or later he would have no choice but to stop and rest. The thought caused ripples of uncertainty to permeate out across the synapses of his troubled mind; movement had been his solace. It had been his defense against a grief he was not yet ready to bear, and so to stop was to face the despair head on. Was he ready? Did he have a choice? Perhaps it was time to find out. His storm-grey eyes flickered in the dark as he heaved a tired sigh —

"Oh, Sev, just what am I going to do?"


Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#2
All must press forward, accept their fate for reality -- forgive failures. I knew this better than anyone. Since youth, my body had been put forth for the service of others. Leadership. Yar. The days of being nothing more than a foot soldier under the banner of yon distant salt and sand was a fading memory. Being brushed away by the storms of sand and wind -- earth eventually reclaimed all things...even timeless ones.

Fate had been cruel, but also merciful. I sometimes felt the path we walked was not our own; instead the walkways were twisted with oppressions, barriers and the like. They forced us onto a trail of their choosing. Some naive folk called it free choice...

I've found the name for such destiny to be unknown by our language. But it certainly wasn't freewill.

______

Body broke cover, scratchy branches clawed at my fur and feathers. Pieces of bark, bramble and leaves clung as I pressed on down an overgrown trail. When the flood waters had receded, they left an earth full to burst -- weed grew sporadic, young trees sought energy, stretching vainfully for the sun that seemed constantly in shadow. Frostfall would see such younglings gone from this world.

There was always a sense of anxiety in these timbers. Though the soil had been washed, I still felt it within the earth. Like a diluted stain unseen by the eye on a blanket of white, the threads still held hues of misery and telling signs of abuse.

A presence...

Gaze shifts from my shuffling toes to the figure ahead, bound not by wing or horn. A small grin slips to my face, mostly out of habit. "Well met," I called, politely, evenly. These forests were full of strangers, tis hard to know which was friend or foe.

Word count: 304



MIDAS

[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#3
Ophelia the Forsaken


The pale princess of the north waltzed through the sweat darkened, humid forest beneath the relentless sun of the season. Sweat lightly caught on her sides, turning her otherwise pale, ethereal coat a gentle, blue tint, and her long, thick mane matted around the slight sides of her neck. Weather like this, though exemplifying the might of the Sun God, was stifling, and she longed for the forever-winter of her home. Thankfully, the sun broke across the horizon, and with it, the heat. Evening, soft and gentle, had arrived, and she breathed, listening to the chirp and call of bugs in the summer's air. A bright light shone from her forehead, a little charm hanging and dancing from her spiraled, perfect horn.

Shards of stone, stuck in her hair from years past, sparkled in her hair and gave her body a gentle, angelic glow in the beauty of the night. Cloven hooves, soft and careful on the ground bounced on the softened ground, and strange, dual colored eyes swept the horizon of trees, watching the way the full, boughs blended into shadow at the limit of her vision. Ophelia saw a crimson stranger, the burnished copper of his coat almost metallic against the night sky. She quickened her pace, approaching curiously as bloody ended tresses trailed in her wake.

Tinek, her silver dragon, curled down around her body, floating effortlessly to her back and sitting, perched proper. His shimmering scales were offset by crimson accents, much like his bonded. Ophelia smiled at him, approaching this stranger but frowning sourly as she noticed Midas standing close. Determined not to make a scene in front of this newcomer, she withheld the urge to yell and instead smiled kindly at this chestnut stallion, plagued with scars and eyes filled with emotion.

"Greetings to you," she said softly, her voice elegant and soft like chimes. "Welcome to Helovia, friend. My name is Ophelia the Forsaken and I am the Lady of the Aurora Basin." Her introductions were warm, lacking the chill of the land from where she hailed. "Who are you, stranger?"

@[iscariot]

Credits: Image by perfectperfection @ DA




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!


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