.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
03-26-2015, 02:10 PM
ULRIK & KIRCHOFF
Each point in space (and time) is associated with a vector that determines what force a moving charge would experience.
Each point in space (and time) is associated with a vector that determines what force a moving charge would experience.
Pale eyes raked over his skin, skipping over the arcane curves and edges of his bronze marking, and he could practically feel her tingling gaze. He inhaled a shallow breath, chest expanding against his sleek, black hide whilst a soft breeze caught at the hair curled down his chest and between his front legs. The long beard on his chin twitched as he clenched his jaw, waiting for her to be done staring as he talked. He wove his tale like the fibers of the cloth he made, but what he spoke was truth. A few details were left out here and there, but for the most part, everything he said was historically accurate. The Edge and the Throat had both forgiven them for invading some time ago – when they were intent on reclaiming the Edge after years of yearning for home again. The Falls was still relatively new, and Ophelia, their new leader, had once lead the Foothills. They had been on relatively good terms.
In fact, why the Falls disliked the Basin at all was entirely a mystery now. The only one old enough or with long enough memories to remember such old battles were Midas. Even then, Ulrik was sure that their old ways – secret ways – were hidden, buried deep. All that remained of the old Plague were a handful in the north, but a few were entirely independent now. D’Artagnan was gone. Mauja abandoned that cause long ago. Psyche was dead. He, Deimos and Aviya were the only ones still adhering to supremacy, but for the rest, their isolation was cultural – not racial.
He forgave her interjection, moving on with his tale until he stopped, awaiting her answer. Without interruption, Ulrik paused and listened, smirking a little at her threats. The stallion was not arrogant. He did not assume that he could escape her wrath if she chose to unleash hell, but he was amused at the vehemence of her words. Everyone was infallible at some point, and even mountains crumbled beneath the weight of gods. He was not special or different – just perhaps slightly more enlightened with age and a genius, mad mind.
“I expected nothing less,” he said, the words also a compliment, admiring her fortitude and suspect glances. “I am telling my version of the truth – or what I believe to be true. Actual truth is rather unattainable, don’t you think? All depends on where you are standing…” he mused, rolling his bronze eyes upward for a moment. “Even the gods differ on events – we have no chance of agreeing at every juncture.” The stallion laughed, the sound resonant and deep – like a tumbling waterfall. He shook his head, knocking thick, dark hair around his two, curved weapons on his brow. Ulrik wished that she had been born differently. How pitiful that such a mind was trapped in a hindered body.
“Unfortunately, going freely is a bit of an issue,” he replied. “See, when your herd refused to be allies, they were, by default, enemies. Whatever your leader’s reasons, he did not deign them important to share with us; he even went so far as to tear up invitations from children when we offered a second time for them to join our celebration. What I see is paranoia and prejudice – old fears lingering in a world that has moved on. I would hate to see your sharp mind serving an old man, unwilling to adapt. That could get you hurt for no reason.” He looked down at her trapped leg, indicating that it already had. Ulrik rested on one hip, wondering what to do.
“There is no sugar coating the Aurora Basin. We operate differently, you see. We are individuals with our own goals and ambitions uniting for a common goal of protection. Culturally, our kind, unicorns if you will, are rather independent, living alone for long periods of time. We have deep roots, you see, and old blood – many of us living to be much older than equines. In a way, we unite culturally, just as any society does. But that does not mean we exclude those who are not like us, but assimilation is required,” he explained openly. Ulrik smiled at her, the expression mad but not malicious. “For example, I told no one that I was aiming to steal. Neither Ophelia nor Deimos knows what I am doing now, and if I get penalized for my actions, they will not protect me only as far as my transgressions. Were I to steal from the Edge, they would leave me to my own devices, because I knew the laws of allies.”
Ulrik released part of the chain from the ground with his magic, and he gently released her whimpering companion. The stallion looked down at the white beast, frowning. “My apologies – I understand paws are more fragile than hooves.” Then, he returned his gaze to the Aurora Basin, nodding his head. “I cannot let you fully go, but I still want to show you what I know to be true. I do not want you cowing to the ravings of a mad man. Our leaders are different than those before, and our herd has drastically changed. Those who remain from before are myself and Deimos, really – this is why I remember. Mirage ran me down during the battle as a gold dragon. I will never forget the anger I felt having my home ripped from my very hooves – being labeled as wicked without proof.” The engineer shook his head, snorting.
@[Essetia]
(Please tag me in every post)
