the Rift


[OPEN] playing priestess in the church ruins

Verlaine Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#1

et la vie amait la mort


Adjustment took time. Narcisse and Verlaine had closed the gap between them fairly quickly, introducing the mare to something new. She was aware of love and affection and the ways that it varied from relationship to relationship, but for him, her precious brother, their feelings were different. Narcisse gave her his happiness and endless awe of the world, drawing the spiritual mare out to see the world in other eyes. When she had been suspicious and rather annoyed by the place, Narcisse brought what she wasn't seeing to her mind in a clear view.
It had been best that met and interlocked with one another at an early point in her arrival or Verlaine's whole idea of the place might of driven her away.
His young mind was vibrant and innocent, free and filled to the endless, unseen brims with every childhood emotion. While she never was the truly adventureous type, he was more than eager to bound about and discover. The lack of bearings of the land led her to follow his wishes and trail behind, giggling in amusement when her shape shifted from reality to supernatural, his eyes bursting in their sockets in pure bewilderment at her change.
Today, he'd taken the path less traveled and discovered the Veins, leaping upwards with spring loaded legs across the black stone. Soft daylight flooded their surrounding, and for once, the small mare had given up her ghostly form for the normal. Her mane is slightly tangled without her usual grooming habits, dusted over in a thin coat to rid herself of the last of the season's biting flies.
She trails after the kit at a slow gait, ears pushed foward at their furthest point and violet eyes glued to his every movement. Amusement twinkled through her chest as he fed her his emotions. Multiple times the mare had to call the child back to her when the glow of the lava caught the better of his young mind, reminding him in a soft tone that the glowing mass was best left untouched.
Their traveling is halted by the lack of land mass to cross, Verlaine stopping and blinking in confusion at the statues before her. Crumpled bodies turned into a playground for the Fox kit, childishly bounding about the shrines.
"Narcisse! A face of surprise greets her as he freezes into place, staring at the Vicomtesse with wide eyes. "Ce n'est pas Octobre à Versailles! Vous devez avoir du respect pour les choses." The child immediately scrambles back to her, tail and ears pulled low in an expression of embarrassment. Stern lines cross her small features, demanding respect.
Before release from punishment is given to him, she waits, letting the idea settle into his mind so that he wouldn't forget his manners. A smile soothes away her anger, giving him freedom. "Tu envie de voir ce que c'est?" Her tempt teases him, lifting her tired legs up into a playful trot as if any of his previous youth antics had been tossed aside, having thoroughly enticed the mare into joining into his games.

OOC: For @[Isopia] and anyone esle who wishes to jump in.

Translations and Explanations:

Ce n'est pas Octobre à Versailles! Vous devez avoir du respect pour les choses:
This is not October in Versailles! You must respect things. This is hands-down a reference to the March on Versailles that happened in the early days of the French Revolution, when french women stormed Versailles and absolutely destroyed and murdered those within the palace(there is some very gruesome stories to this that you can search around for), so 'respect other's things when it's not October in Versailles' is pretty saying 'we're not destroying Versailles, therefore be respectful.'
Tu envie de voir ce que c'est?: "Would you like to see them now?" Simplying asking Narcisse if he wishes to see the shrines up close.

I originally put in Verlaine scolding Narcisse for not being respectful to religion, but then I rememered multiple times in history France has for sure given the Roman Catholic Church so big 'f you's'. xD

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
#2
I'm the end of a Hitchcock movie; a little dark and a lot confusing.


The girl didn't like to think of it has hiding so much as just not drawing attention to herself. Her passive magic was an interesting one - the complete opposite of her mother's. Whereas the earth would accompany Kahlua's emotion with song, it would hide the earthen child away should she be patient enough. The longer the girl remained immobile, the stronger and faster the magic took hold. On this day, the girl had been still for a very long time.

Originally she had come to look at the trees - one of which represented her half brother Hototo. His death had heralded hers into being, and for that she felt some sort of kinship to the tree that his body had grown into. Standing next to it, her legs had turned into rock and earth, appearing like some strange outcropping from the island itself. Her wings, folded easily on her back grew moss and other plant life, and finally her head and brilliant golden eyes had sprouted an extension of her body which had become a bush. She was almost indescribable from the landscape - the greenery she was now composed of was entirely real. Only those who knew that this bush and rock formation had not been present even an hour prior, would know that something was amiss.

Silently the girl listened. She knew she couldn't direct her hearing by moving her ears less her magic fail, and so she used her intellect to strain and guide her senses. The language which was spoken around her was beautiful. The way it rolled off of the mare's tongue was so elegant, even though it sounded angry. As much as the girl desired her own privacy, she desired information more.

So she moved.

As the girl's long legs tensed and relaxed, earth and stone fell away, as it the plant life which had taken root upon her shoulders. Like a statue suddenly coming to life and losing its outer shell, the girl stepped out of what was now a pile of rubble and moss. Even though the girl had only been alive for a few months, she already appeared a full year old. Her body was long and tall - about as tall as Verlaine was currently, though the girl was clearly still growing. Whereas Verlaine was frail, the girl was strong, where Verlaine's eyes were gray, hers were gold. Where Verlaine had a companion, the girl was alone. As always.

"What language is that?" She inquired without hesitation, her death-marked skull tilted slightly as her curiosity bled out onto her features. She knew Volterra and Kaj both spoke other languages, and the girl was hungry to learn of this one, which sounded so much more romantic than those spoken by her male acquaintances.


Sorry! I don't know how I missed this thread!



Abandon all hope, ye who enter here


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