the Rift


[OPEN] Puzzles in wonderland

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd
#1
the girl.


The girl was exploring.

She had been to a few places, but never to another herd-land. Kahlua and the others had told her about them - described roughly where they were located. Her interest in seeing them had slowly bubbled over as the days grew longer and longer. The girl didn't want to stay in the Edge ... not forever, but she recognized that she was still much too young to venture off on her own. She would not rush hastily into the world, but she could explore it.

Slipping into her raven form, the girl sailed North. Having been born at the beginning of Tallsun, she had never felt anything but warm wings on her feathers and face, yet as she glided higher and farther than she ever had, she began to feel the chill of the Basin. At first it was this odd blue sensation, like an itch under her skin. In her raven form there was little to protect her from the elements, and while the wind was by no means as cold as it would be in Frostfall, it was still shocking to her youthful system. The girl dove lower, flying closer to the ground where it was slightly warmer. Part of her began to re-think this adventure, wondering if perhaps this land of snow and ice should simply be abandoned, but the tug of her curiosity was simply too strong.

As the rocky precipices of the Basin came into view, the girl flew lower and eventually landed on the bough of a gnarled and twisted tree. She could see the ominous sentinels that she had heard about from where she was, and her golden eyes scanned them silently. Her black wings hugged her avian body as her skull-marked face watched the goings-on below. Her eyes, golden and insightful as well as the white skull on her face clearly gave her away as being no common raven. However perched in a tree she wasn't entirely sure whether the unicorns below would notice.

She had been told the Basin accepted all and only unicorns. She was part unicorn - had four horns in fact. Would they accept her, should she wish to relocate? And why was it that they only accepted their own kind? Was there some lingering fundamentalist values? Was it something more sinister? Or was it purely aesthetic ?

Perched quietly on the branch, the girl wondered.



Just hanging out in her bird-form :)





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Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#2

The world was changing for the princeling, altering its course, diverting its current, streamlining down rubble-lined paths, stumbling, corroded trails, no longer lined with primroses and portended results. His, like so many others before him, was destined and fated with trials and tribulations, with glories and conquests, with shimmers of deceit and lacquer mauled, mutilated with capricious whims. Growing up was a difficult morphing, a harsh transition, and he was lost in its translation, casting exuberant smiles and buoyant grins, then swiftly changing into grim, bestial measures and sentiments, brow furrowed, mask aligned, and his grasp on the realm around him seemed short, out of reach. Friends disappeared, like Rikyn, like Aithniel, companions murdered, like Arwen, and some stayed true, not crumbling, not deteriorating, like Adelric. The yearnings, the longings, the stirrings for everything to stay the same, for them to blossom and bloom beneath the aurora sky, the verdant valleys, the crisp, mountain peaks had seemingly vanished, no longer possible for the deceased, for the discarded, for the isolated, and slowly, bit-by-bit, he found himself adrift. There was no returning to the past, no way to salvage situations (except by force, by anger, by vengeance, and those too would be settled in time), no way to return and repair broken, barren kin, to remedy situations with corrupted patches sewn by inexperienced hands. Goals seemed strange, insurmountable, unattainable, no matter how many times he crossed the line of Gods or stared upon a fragile egg, biding his time through resolution and patience, through composure and determination, only heaving small sighs when the victor was not him, when he was not favored. But they were bitter, rancorous pills to swallow, those heavy, cumbersome loads of loss, and they seemed to compound more and more each day: children lost, vanquished, murdered, youths vanished, lives in the process of upheaval, and there he stayed, adrift and twisted, transforming with the rest of the earth. Into what, the kingdoms, the empires, and he, remained uncertain.

Erebos wandered, an occurrence the boy often took, beneath the silent guard of the sentinels, eyes peeking and ghosting between the powerful slits of metal, curiosity tumbling into bouts of exploration, rather than the route of melancholy settling between his shoulders. He poked the cool material with his maw, but having no wiles or aptitude towards crafting, he eventually took to admiring the behemoths, slipping and standing back a fair distance to provide them with a keen regard and appreciation, nodding his head at their craftsmanship, at their mysterious, enigmatic qualities. The slate of his stare remained higher still, however, at the sight of something nestled within the boughs of an otherwise barren tree, tundra exposition, and a sort of mischievous, havoc seeking, sense of intrigue slunk and slithered through his mind. The bird, perhaps a raven, was unlike any he’d seen before (and he’d been witness and a chef for a massive turkey, so perhaps the notion was saying something), because where they were often black, embellished in naught but cloaks of sinister sable, cawing out their bestial munitions, this one was silent, and skull-marked. For a few seconds, he thought of Confutatis and her claim to the bones, wondered if this was her perched beyond their borders, suddenly capable of distorting into avian beasts, eager to peck out their eyes. The little beast tilted his head left and right, beholding careful examinations and scrutiny, as his sire would stare down an enemy or investigate an equal, but unlike the Reaper, his speech held naught at bay. Too entrenched and interested, but still guarded, stepping no closer, he beckoned towards the flier, summoning an energetic trace of his boyish vocals. “Hello!” Would it answer back? Reply? Helovia’s magical inhabitants possessed many strange, bizarre, and amazing enchantments, invocations, and potency; he wouldn’t be surprised if it recited riddles, famous stanzas, or shrieked cries of Nevermore.



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Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd
#3
the girl.


She saw him, though could not see that he was a prince. Had she known he was a prince, she might have wondered about whether or not 'prince' was an intrinsic property. It would have been a trait he was born with, and yet it wasn't the type of trait you could just.. see. Like goodness. You couldn't just look at something and know whether or not it was good. You had to know something about it. Is that a good rock? You might wonder and you wouldn't know until you knew what the rock was good for. Good for standing on, not good for keeping things out.

Was being a prince like that?

As he continued towards where she was perched, her golden eyes followed him with intrigue. His horn was so much longer and straighter than all of hers were. Hers pointed away from her head and were curved, while his thrust forward rather elegantly. She also noted his tail - no one in the Edge had a tail like that, nor did any of the others she had encountered in her short life. His hooves as well were unlike anything she had ever seen. What caused such qualities? Her golden eyes narrowed but she couldn't recall anything that she had learned which would explain his slightly-off appearance.

As he greeted her, her beak angled downwards and her avian face tilted from side to side as she inspected him.

"Hello." She responded politely, the voice of a young girl coming out of the beak of the bird. "Your tail is different than mine...so are you hooves and your horn. Why? How are you like that?" She inquired voicing her thoughts, completly forgetting that currently as a bird she shared none of the same traits as he did.

Perhaps that was why the Basin kept to themselves. Were they all deformed the way he was? Well not deformed, mutated perhaps. Little did the girl know that her ignorance was the reason she thought of them as mutations and not merely adaptations. Though perhaps those were really the same thing. As she waited for a response her mind conjured up a polluted water source that was fusing their hooves, condensing the hairs of their tails, and forcing their horns straight (Aithniel had curved horns and the rest that she had met had been hornless ... except for Oxy and Shida, who had multiple curved horns as well). For one who thought themselves quite observing, the girl had a pathetically small sample size from which to judge.

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Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#4

There was no reciting of famous poetry or Poe lines, no quaking storm rattling the hinges of the sentinels, but shock, amazement, and excitement were still maintained in the polished, impish grin fastened to his features. His expectations were matched and countered, blessed and anointed, because he knew of magic, of enigmas, of quandaries, and he’d met one more, resting on the boughs of his Basin. The lad’s eyes continued in their narrowed conjectures, careful studying, complex maneuvering, a mind rapidly churning and burning, hastily trying to put together rhyme and reason. The mutual inspection was uncanny, and when a girl’s voice resounded from the avian frame, his eyes became rounded saucers, indulging far too much curiosity, lending far too many buoyant possibilities. Had she been enchanted, once upon a time, a distant maiden emboldened, cherished, then discarded when she erred, becoming cursed and scarred, doomed to appear wicked and deceitful? Had she flown from land to land, seeking knowledge and wisdom, appearing in the form of a sable bird, taut, rigid, but uncanny and sagacious? Was she another God, taking wings and plumes and feathers of their favored friend, coming to greet mortals? But her words were funny, because she was a bird - of course they were different! – and he couldn’t hold back the chorus of laughter ringing from his chest, bright, gallant, strong, enjoying the presence of the unknown. She didn’t threaten, she didn’t glare, she didn’t seem to seize or possess the yearning desire to destroy, so he was left to educate her on discrepancies, play the beast to her queries. “Probably because we’re a different species.” He followed the statement on a wink, still displaying a charitable endeavor, not meant to cut or slay or slash at her whims – he welcomed questions and inquisitions, he certainly had enough of them. Perhaps she’d do the same, allow him a moment of clarity in the bizarre circumstances. To continue in their stead, the augured princeling shrugged, bordering on simplicity in her requests. “I was born this way. My father and mother have horns, feet, and tails like mine." Both had leonine tassels, cloven hooves, beautiful, long, elegant swords, emblazoned and endowed with power, prestige, and prowess; where his dam coaxed gentle angles and sonnets of the sun, his carved notches of supremacy, of dominance, across the cavern walls. “We’re Unicorns.” The latter statement floated and cascaded on a hint of pride, on the enamel and lacquer of esteem; he was always taught his specious was strong, enduring, beautiful, and at times, treacherous. “Isn’t that why your face is different from all the other ravens? Because you were born that way?” Or was there something else (and suddenly he wanted a story to sink his teeth into, some great, grand, epic tale full of adventures and skull-faced birds soaring across the sky)? Erebos yearned to spill out each and every inquiry whirling and contorting along his mind, but only the former stuck, reaching for answers and uncertainties, not wishing to continue his residence in the halls of ignorance.



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Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd
#5
the girl.

The girl hadn't learned the term hybrid yet. Or tribrid for that matter. She knew that she was different from those in the Edge, but she assumed that was merely because of her godly lineage, not because of any fundamental differences in her genetic makeup. However as the prince offered a difference in species as the foundational justification for their differences the girl felt satisfied. That did make sense.

It still hadn't clicked that she was in bird form.

As he described the traits his mother and father had passed down, and their species, unicorn, the bird-child nodded her head with sudden clarity and understanding. So that's what it took to be in these lands, one must be a unicorn. It made so much more sense to her, than previously when she had tried to distill their traits down to identifiable features. Some unicorns had lots of horns, others had oddly placed ones. Apparently cloven hooves and lion tails were not necessary features ... were they sufficient? Did all and only unicorns possess cloven hooves and lion tails? Silently she wondered. Did the prince know the necessary and sufficient conditions for Basin entry? He must. Just as she was about to ask, her thoughts were interrupted.

Isn’t that why your face is different from all the other ravens? Because you were born that way?

What? Ohhh.

The raven-girl shook her black-painted skull. Her small avian body leaned forward as her blackened wings swept out from her sides to catch her. As she descended from the tree, her body began to expand and re-shape itself. Legs, splattered with blood-like markings extended from a body no longer blackened with feathers. Her ravens' wings grew, lost their black sheen, and became mismatched in colour. The skull markings and her golden eyes were all that remained the same on a face which had become distinctly equine, though possessing for four horns.

"I was born this way." The girl clarified, the voice coming out of her mouth suiting the form that she was in now. "Well. Smaller, but like this." She folded her wings against her flanks, as her bright golden glare regarded him now much more evenly. The girl appeared nearly half the prince's age, but already she was quite tall and lanky. Her feathered hooves suggested that one day her narrow frame might extend and bulk outwards, but for now she looked more like the girl-on-a-growth-spurt that she was.

"But I suppose you are right. My mother doesn't even have horns or wings. I guess I can't be a unicorn."

Funny how little occasion there is for a child to wonder about what species they are. The girl had literally no idea. All she knew was that she very likely wasn't a unicorn.


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Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#6

The boy had seen a multitude of transformations, appearances, and masquerades in his short life, and this one still had him reeling in abundant, wild curiosity, in well-tipped and dipped confusion, and then a series of excited murmurs. If his jaw dropped and became slightly unhinged, a barrage of appreciative whispers cloaking through his speech, he paid neither any mind, focused entirely on the shapes shifting before him. Where there was once an intriguing bird, now stood a girl, marked by the same skull, emboldened and encompassed with horns, with wings, with gilded eyes and other fascinating aspects. A little bewildered, a little beguiled and spellbound, Erebos closed his maw and merely stared, tilting his head from side to side in all manners of intrigue, hoping to arrive at answers before she was forthcoming. They unfolded anyway, from the same voice, from the same timbre and lilt: born this way, endowed and imbued with every essence of species imaginable. He didn’t know what this was called, what sort of morphing had taken place, how she managed to obtain all of the elements of their world (could she grasp dragons too? Stab with her swords? Embrace the wind and sky?). He was almost jealous, for a few seconds, for she’d been given and anointed, consecrated and blessed, with all sorts of treasures. However, the privileged lad knew he had been too, just in other ways (though he couldn’t change into a bird, and somewhere he felt he’d lost some grand opportunity), had lived wondrous adventures, had dived into mysteries, had clawed and fought his way through arduous tasks; being envious of another’s abilities was not gallant at all. He smiled at her, steady, assuring, obliged towards her potency, to her prowess, extending amiability where he saw fit. “Awesome.” His boyish tendencies unfurled in an impish grin, pondering over her proffered platitudes, over the woven sentiments driven through the wind and summer. How had she acquired so many rapiers along her brow, without any blood fostering the fine curves, the sharp points? The mystery was worth investigating, and his brows only furrowed slightly, attempting to deliver the only information he had on the subject. “Hm. But some portion of you must be a Unicorn, because you have horns. A lot of them.” Logic festered and brewed, all of his mother’s stories conjured, all of Zikar-Sin’s lessons composed, but the only thing truly reminding him of anything remotely similar was that of Aithniel, the girl of fire and brimstone, curling her wrath and rage into puffs and clouds of smoke. She’d been given cutlasses and feathers, had been teased and tormented by some for them, and admired by him. The blue lad would only speak well of her, diving back into devilish smiles and charismatic glances. “You’re like my friend, Aithniel. She has wings and horns too.” Perhaps she knew of her? There couldn’t be too many of them wandering Helovia’s halls, encased in finery, in passion, in power; maybe they’d met in the unfiltered wilds, beckoned by alike characteristics. He shifted along his hooves, grimacing slightly when he realized he hadn’t introduced himself (and Huyana would be displeased, what a poor display of manners), so he allowed the query to drift, amiable and amicable. “I’m Erebos. Who are you?”



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Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd
#7
the girl.

Now she was confused. Hadn't Erebos just said that his parents, who were unicorns, had horns, tails, and hooves like him? So how could it be that she was a unicorn when she possessed no such traits? The only thing the two of them had in common was the possession of a horn. Was that really all it took then? One or more horns, and you were a unicorn? Or at least partially one? She inspected his tail and hooves for a moment wondering what other strange traits other unicorns might have.

"Four." She confirmed with a nod. Another difference - two in fact. Where she had four times the horns that Erebos did, hers curved backwards from her skill, whereas his protruded right from the center of his brow.

As he mentioned Aithniel, the girl felt both excitement and jealousy harden her stare. Of course she knew Aithniel, the two had triumphed over the tasks her father had given them during the flood. Aithniel was one of the few that she had met who was smart, and importantly, accepting of the girl's odd habits. They were friends, or at least the demi-child liked to think they were. It hadn't occurred to her that Aithniel had had other friends. The idea, and perhaps her naiviety, made her feel small and unsire. She tried to hide it behind an enthusiastic nod and forced smile. "I know her. She's my friend too." Perhaps it would have been more interesting had the girl known that she and Aithniel were cousins - it might help to shed some light on her heritage and the mishmash of species that she seemed to be. Sadly, she and the fire-child had been too focused on their tasks for idle chatter. Which, at the time, the girl had liked.

The girl knew what was coming as soon as Erebos offered his name. He is going to ask mine- and sure enough, he did. It only further affirmed in her mind the importance of picking the best name for herself. Had she even had a single conversation where someone didn't ask her name? The girl couldn't remember a single one - unless it was with someone who already knew that she hadn't selected one for herself yet. Her tail swayed gently as she shuffled her wings. Although she felt her reasoning was sound, the question still made her uncomfortable. The stares she usually received made her feel like those around her thought her haughty or condescending. She hadn't met anyone else who took naming as seriously as she did. No one else who understood.

Clearing her throat, the girl shrugged slightly. "I'm just me." She offered, nonchalantly. "Names are important so ... I haven't given myself one yet." She concluded, trying to pre-answer a question that she was sure he would ask.



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Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#8

The colt had felt the surge of jealousy before. It was alive and well within his chest, a plunging knife, a scraping, gnarled howl, a building crescendo of monotonous torture (because there were some things he simply couldn’t have, but wanted, but craved, but yearned for – and to see another enjoying it was a heavy, vehement burden to bear). Sometimes it fed and festered, or withered and shrank, giving way to other toxic vices or distractions, never enticing him fully into its decadence; he was too passionate, too fervent, too determined and tenacious, grinding away at his desires, manifesting audacious tactics, ruses, plots and tricks, diving into impish delights to grasp what he coveted. His sharp, keen eyes, sometimes like his father’s (too deep, too penetrating, too piercing), sometimes like his mother’s (gentle, charismatic, understanding), narrowed for the briefest of moments, wondering if the spark of envy had crossed over the girl’s face, or if he was seeing a reflection of his own sentiments. The lithe, feral beast said naught of her planted smile, he didn’t indulge into the capricious, mercurial notions, she was allowed her secrets just as much as he was; his grin thereafter remained steadfast and gallant, gratified to hear Aithniel had made other companions (especially this interesting filly). Even if she was no longer in their midst – he didn’t know where she’d gone, only that her scent had grown stale, her wings no longer fluttered amidst the sky – the tiny infidel was satisfied, content, she’d managed to discover security, sanctuary, and refuge with others. He permitted only the slightest stoking of disappointment through his chest, because he’d sworn to protect her, because he’d sworn to be her companion, and she’d decided to leave, to flee, without telling him, without warning him, and he’d been left behind again, the blue prince in the icy castle. Perhaps his friendship wasn’t enough? Maybe she craved far more formidable creatures, like the filly who could morph into a raven, fly high into the sky, bear skulls and runes? A heady sense of bitterness, of rancorous edges and fringes waned over him, and he pushed it aside, leaving the forlorn, cumbersome weight for another day, another moment. His bright smile curled along his lips all over again, an ebullient ghost sparking over his tones. “I’m glad she’s made a friend like you.” Not a lie, not a fabrication, but a sense of pride filtering over his bones and weaving over his temple: and he imagined the three musketeers, all brandishing their swords again. Now he was the only one left in their Siberian kingdom, waiting, growing, blooming, gaining strength each and every day. He’d find them again in the future.

Erebos focus and attention became enamored in more intriguing notions, for the girl divulged she had no name to give! He’d never heard of such a thing; he’d been christened and anointed with shadows at the moment of his birth, enjoyed using the title of shadows and darkness. It blended into the murky, sinister rhythms of his heritage, of his father’s overwhelming, overpowering nefariousness, hoping somehow, someway, he’d grow into its worth. Had the other child not been granted, bestowed, and proffered the same? The boyish grin tucked further along dimples and charms, entirely curious and speculating. “Well, I hope you find an acceptable title.” Tilting his head again, forelock folding over his eyes before the breeze caught its lingering tassels and hastened it aside, a roguish glint molded and sculpted across his features, tones reflecting a mere snippet of impertinence, only a light tease, only a meager indulgence. “What am I supposed to call you in the meantime?”




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Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd
#9
the girl.

Internally the girl began to squirm. It was encounters such as these that made her feel incredibly out of place, as if she was missing some crucial link to the world that everyone else possessed. For example, why on earth should Erebos be happy that Aithniel had other friends? Much less ones like her? What did that matter? Why was her happiness relevant to his? Why was the caliber of the girl's own friendship in anyway tied to Aithniel, or to Erebos? It was like Alysanne had told her before - friendships were not always reciprocal. They could be asymmetrical. And if that was the case then who was friends with you didn't mean much. Your happiness was only tied to who you were friends with. It might have been that Aithniel considered neither of them friends.

As Erebos asked what he ought to call her, the girl let these thoughts drift away to be considered later. Likely she would not find an answer - she was simply not built with the right kind of emotional machinery to understand.

"Do you need a name for me?" She asked quizzically. The thought had never occurred to her that Erebos might want to talk about her to someone else. She was only thinking of him addressing her now, or perhaps if they met again. But surely now, and later, they would know each other? Why would he need a title to call her? Even coming up with a fake and temporary name seemed daunting. What if it stuck? If she gave him something, she would forever be labeled as that to the people he told. Fumbling for the words, the girl chewed her lip as she considered this. The longer she remained in place, the faster the magic that worked silently within her took hold. Her hooves began to turn to stone, matching the ground upon which they stood. This marbled effect continued up her legs, until her entire lower half appeared carved out of the very ground itself.

Then, she had an idea. Kahlua had asked her for a name that began with k...perhaps if she needed a false name, she would at least honour her mother in that respect?

"You pick one for me, since it is you who will be using it." She said after a time, clearly not bothered by the rocky-magic that was growing up her limbs. "Anything you like. But I would like it to start with a 'K'."


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Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#10

She was an intriguing, curious thing – the little prince found himself enamored by how different she was from all the other youths he’d encountered. She puzzled, she perplexed, and she bent the wires of his mind into different directions. Where those of his age romped, played, gallivanted across empires and sovereigns, she turned into a bird and asked about species, why she held similar traits to him, yet still remained so contrasting, and he could venture, down down down into the confines of his own knowledge, however brief, however finite, and offer her paltry sums, but they felt bland in comparison to all of her calculations. One could see her physically maneuvering jigsaw pieces in attempts to discover and reorganize her thoughts, her patterns, her way of thinking, and he wasn’t certain of his role in the matter anymore; if he was a mere conduit, a catalyst, for learning, for sagacity, for wisdom, or just a blank slate to bounce subjects off of. The boy might have frowned, irked and irritated for some unknown reason (it rankled his spine, like edges, like fringes, of claws, curling back and forth over the ridges of bone). He’d only wanted to call her something, anything, because girl didn’t seem fair, right, or justified, everything should have some portion of distinguishing calibers – but as she squirmed, obviously uncomfortable, the scion wanted to dissolve the notion entirely. Perhaps he’d been forcing her into something she didn’t want, didn’t crave, aspiring to remain nameless, a mystery, an enigma twisting and turning on the horizon, flying by the vibrant plumes of her Pegasus lines or gliding on her second set as a cawing raven. He shook his head, felt the breeze ruffle a few downy tufts of forelock away from his brow, a little more somber, a little less exuberant. He’d erred somehow, pushed and meandered where he wasn’t supposed to (his sire wouldn’t have cared, but he gave no credence to social means, and his mother may have disapproved, hoping she’d taught him better), and strived to conduct himself in a civilized manner again. The tones of the lithe cretin bounced along, drifting towards her in a sea of apology and regret. “Sorry – if you don’t want a name, you certainly don’t have to have one. I just thought-,” his speech cut off as his gaze narrowed in harpooning speculation, furrowed and drawn together one moment, then widening the next, continually surprised by the raven filly and her abilities. He stared, though not in disbelief (he’d seen a great many things in his short lifetime), but at the stone-mason qualities of her changing form, rapidly becoming fixtures of marble and monuments, fascinated, fixated, riveted on her constant changes. Was she a chameleon? Was she capable of altering, molding, and adapting to many other appearances? Soon, she was a piece of the ground altogether, fused and embodied into the hard surface of the Basin’s boundaries, shackled and tethered to the solid foundation and fortifications. Erebos smiled again, completely enjoying the show, forgoing where his vocals had been slashed short, and announcing his intrigue. “What a neat trick! You have a lot of cool abilities.” He tilted his head, surveying and studying all over again, saying naught of names (which was too bad, because one had just burst and popped into his brain like a brilliant work of art, and he let it sit there, simmering and quelling), but more of her talents. “How long can you stay like that?”



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