the Rift


[OPEN] Hey Young Blood

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
#1

The scion had no right to be disappointed, to raise hackles, to throw frustration upon the earth, but as he mired his way through the countryside, as he wove empty movements, as he disassembled rock, rubble, and ruin, the colt took a peevish turn, a haphazard look, about the world and wondered what it meant to be left behind. He reached a mutinous level of petulance, a scowl meandering and peeking along his brows, a hoof grazing pebbles and watching them scatter across ice and rime, an exasperated layer of harsh, unrelenting, rebellious breaths puttering from his nostrils well-orchestrated by those younger than himself. Though the Sun God had told him not to strive towards the past, not to wish for things he couldn’t have (because what good would it do, to dream and venture towards objects, fates, and goal never in his reach?), he reenacted the same prose, pose, and position, swallowing bitter pill after bitter pill until they burned, until they coiled, until they clawed down his throat. They kept leaving, one by one, each as silent as the last – first Rikyn, journeying to the ends of the earth with his dam (and what had he seen beyond those great, mountainous walls?), then Aithniel, discarding him for something else, and the gilded twins (taken, murdered, massacred, and he was still too young to assert his vengeance), until finally, even Adelric – whom he’d believed was of the upmost faithful, was of absolute credence, was mysteriously absent from the realm.

He was growing up without his friends, without all the wishes, without all the aspirations, goals, and ambitions they’d had. There were no musketeer antics on the threads of his last foalhood days. There were no juvenile maneuvers. There were no distorted calamities. There were no adventures past enemy borders or scaling hostile heights. In fact, there was nothing - and he hated it.

Had he done something to cause it? Had he been too acquisitive, leaving and leading them down wayward paths, ignoring what had been right before his own eyes? Was he the reason they despaired, they disbanded, they fled? He scoffed, twisted his lips, lifted his stare towards the midnight sky, and loathed, truly loathed, the essence, the notion, the sentiments, of being forsaken.

Greedy by nature, he wound his way through the narrow pits and pendulums, striking out upon frozen floors and tundra oeuvres, searching and searching for the things, for the friends, who’d somehow flickered away from him. Orsino, careful, compliant, and composed, sat on a nearby stone and watched every fluid movement of his bonded’s distaste, silent, all knowing, an omniscient shadow, a constant, alluring demon. In that regard, Erebos was never truly alone, and the kitsune had every intention, every wile, of flourishing beside his beast, of reveling in their dark dreams and their scattered scabbards, but with both too young, with both too askew, he settled for muted dedication, a narrowed gaze, a layered, lacquered potential.

But what was to be done now? The boy could stew, could fret, could muse and speculate as evening ended and morning began, and still be without a single answer, a solid reason. The darkest murmurs of his whispers, of his cravings, of his yearnings, wouldn’t be heard, even if he called for them at the top of his lungs, even if he reached for them beyond the stars. Adelric. Aithniel. Rikyn. He could repeat their names, word for word, in loud, roaring depths, in quiet, unsung croons, and the same decibels would echo, would resonate back to him – nothingness. They were gone, and no matter how he conspired, no matter how he traced, sketched, and discovered their final steps, they weren’t coming back.

The awakening, the brutality, was a harsh, unwinding reality; so he didn’t bother chasing after the wind, after the clouds, after the constellations bearing his friends’ images, memories, and distinctions. The boy simply stared at the vast, open plain, deserted, stranded, and suddenly, hopelessly lost from all he’d known, from all he’d cherished.



OOC;; Open to anyone! ^__^
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Cathun Posts: 88
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 3 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Tai
#2

He was one with the night, with the wind-blown snow, with the stars and the darkness that enveloped them. He was wild and free, and when he jumped through the powdery dunes and his mind swelled with the elated feeling of soaring weightlessly, he could even believe for a second that he was happy.

Then he landed with a jolt in the wretched firmness of reality and the weight of it was enough to make his knees tremble, quiver with the urge to bend and cave. He was not free. In fact, he was shackled, fettered with binds stronger than any mortal magician, and the only thing he was one with was his own impending doom, the fate that had loomed over his head from the moment he was conceived. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it, and it made the youngster want to scream out in frustration, drove him to run and run until all breath escaped him and he arrived at the ends of the earth.

There, it appeared someone was waiting for him. Not that the dark colt actually were or anything, but in a dramatic epic-storyline kinda way it would be more interesting if that were the case. They were not strangers brought together purposelessly and for no reason, but brothers in arms, friends of fate destined to do great deeds together... right?

His certainty faded steadily as he approached the lonesome stag, because there was something eerie about this fellow, something he couldn't quite place. A touch upon the air, a vibration about him that Cathun had come to associate with magic at play. But that had to be his imagination, because nowhere did he see the laws of physics break, and the only supernatural in this picture was the glow of his own shedding embers - and the coiling tails of a black fox perched nearby.

Nevertheless, it was with an air of self-confidence that he approached, and without letting any of his doubts show through voice nor face Cathun paused just out of reach (just to be safe) and eyed the colt up and down critically.

"You look like you just ate a summer apple. What's wrong?" he asked, smile askew and eyes glowing in what he hoped was friendly concern.




Cathun
The firebrand


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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
#3

Irritated and vexed, he thought perhaps to move on from the Steppe, down into the throes and throngs of another world, another time, another place – maybe where clues of his friends’ disappearances lanced and laced quarters, shelters, and sanctuaries. But he grew ever more listless and indolent, piecing together fragments and notions with nothing else to settle amongst their hollow shells. A few more rocks were kicked, and his scrutinizing gaze watched them leap and bound off of several ice formations, before becoming lost in the snow. Lost – were his companions much the same way? Had they wandered down other paths, other trails, traversing lonesome, haunting, poignant valleys without anyone to show them the way home?

He fettered over the sentiments, frowning at the chilling gales and the hallowed contortions of his nearby home, Orsino silent as the grave, giving naught in return. The only lapse in complete withdrawal was the kitsune’s tiny prick of sensation driven over the colt’s – a warning, a sign, an alarm – at another’s approach, and the child quickly screwed his features into an onset of calm, of equanimity, of tranquility, seeking out an appropriate mask.

But with the echoing words, he knew he’d been found out. An air of disappointment, of dread, of shame morphed between his bones and willowy muscles, the junctures of a frame not quite matured; he thought to force his head hellbound and be given the stern lecture he deserved (to cease his moping, to stop his brooding, when he was one of the entitled, one of the privileged). Instead, because he was entirely too bold, too audacious, too much like his father, he raised his crown to stare at the individual roaming the same frosty realm as he, examining, studying, using every wile and every talent he had at his disposal to peruse and inquire through the depths of his brief, childish knowledge.

The other was older, maybe not by much, still regal, still confident, still lacquered in ability and prowess. In regard, Erebos thrust his chest out, puffing like a great monster, like an unleashed titan, jutting his chin in a princely fashion, clawing at the centuries of assurance, poise, and mettle curling along his bloodline. The elder’s eyes, however, the scion couldn’t emulate – for they were like fire, like embers, like coals soaked in a harsh, unrelenting blaze – and he was mesmerized by their mystique, by their grandeur, by their powerful adornments. They flew from his tassels, from his mane, from his tail, as if he’d been borne from the grand remnants (and how nice it would have been, to be truly made by infernos), that the unsung cluster of potential and acrimony stirred greatly within the boy’s own convictions. Could he reign like that someday – proud, strong, wielding all the confidence in the world, all the decadence crooning and murmuring in his ears?

Could he have that power too?

(How?, Orsino asked through their connection, bobbing a careful beat to the webs forming in the cluster of their membranes, tying and lacing and weaving beautiful, wicked arts; a sensation of abominations, of obliterations, of intricate, nefarious masterpieces.)

His acrid reasons, his fleeting memories, seemed so juvenile then. But he tilted his head a mere fraction, attempted to appear as though his stomach was not sour, as though his world hadn’t tilted every time a bond was crushed, smothered, and obliterated; and he wondered, vaguely, if this stag had musing, had sagacity, for how to overcome the rancorous thorns plaguing his youthful mind. “My friends are gone.” The answer was smooth, embedded in truth, seeking out all the absolutions, all the advice, that another could give. What does one do when those they revered suddenly fled without them?

And was it stupid to continue dreaming of them? Was it silly to remain in the past?




OOC;;
TAG;; @[Cathun]


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Cathun Posts: 88
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 3 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Tai
#4

If only he had felt half as confident as he seemed in the eyes of the unicorn. If only the youth had revealed a fraction of whatever awe he might have felt, how much good it would have done the boy. To know that his mask worked, to hear that he at least appeared mature and wise to others. It would have strengthened Cathun in so many ways. But just like he himself was reluctant to put his innermost emotions on display and crafted a facade, so did this dark child, and for all that the ember-maned equine had caught a glimpse of the distress Erebos might be feeling he couldn't see through the regal scrutiny, was left unaware of the prickling jealously over what he himself saw as nothing but a curse.

Cathun didn't expect to either. He most certainly wasn't prepared to hear anything other than some casual excuse followed by a more or less pleasant ticket to elsewhere for intruding, but what he was offered was neither more nor less than the truth.

It left him mute for a long while, surprised and reeling with the implications. The tone might be casual, but the weight of those words... Man, that was some heavy shit.

"Uh...That sucks. I'm sorry to hear that."
Eloquence escaped him, because what words did you use to express condolences to a stranger? 'Chin up' isn't exactly helpful.

"My mother's dead" he offered tentatively. He wasn't sure why it would make the other feel better, but hey; at least Cathun could relate to the feeling of loss, right? In a sense. Somehow. "And I haven't seen my father since... I don't know."

The smile faded, his brow furrowing at the thought of the silver-maned sire. He'd said he would come after Cathun, but he had still seen neither hide nor hair of the old man. Had something happened, or was he still too 'busy' with whatever it was he always had to go do?

Disappointment was a sour thing, hard to swallow and even worse to stomach. Cathun knew that feeling at least, and it truly sucked that this colt too had to experience it.

"Do you know where they went? If you want to go look for them I could help" he offered spontaneously, long legs stepping high over the snow in a sudden need for action, movement, something to do.

So what if Cathun couldn't do anything to solve his own issues, at least he might be able to help others? An obstinate face with red eyes and a golden blaze hovered before him with a withering look of 'I-told-you-so' and ire rose for a fraction of a second, but the youth quickly swatted it away with a supposed elegant flick of the tail. He wasn't doing anything because of that girl, alright? So she might have had a point in one or two things she'd said, but that didn't mean... well...

Oh, never mind.


@[Erebos]

Cathun
The firebrand


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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
#5

So began an expression, a sharing, of misfortunes. The scion had never truly committed an air of grievances, of his complaints against the earth – he understood he was one of the affluent, the fortunate, because he was a prince and given rites of lessons, scholarly pursuits, gifts from the Gods when they decided not to ignore him entirely – but the sensation was like a catalyst, allowing and bestowing him the privilege of others’ wounds and lacerations. As he absorbed the information the elder colt gave him (and realizing perhaps he wasn’t as bad off as the rest of the realm), the blue lad realized the world could be outrageously cruel. He’d witnessed it first hand, saw lifeless bodies chiseled into finite dust, into mere clues and discoveries and mysteries for others to solve, became a late witness to Arwen’s disastrous death – and stood before another survivor.

How did they get on in life, when everything seemed so incredibly difficult? Was it by choice, by obligation, by sheer, unfettered will? He was a determined blight, a resolved, miniature cretin, forging and bludgeoning his way along the tempests of time, stumbling, faltering, then gaining ground after missteps. What had this one done to continue smoldering, existing, planting roots and nestling plans?

For Erebos had not lost his mother, had not lost his father, had not lost his sister. He couldn’t imagine his family dissipating into the void, becoming haunting specters of his past. They were everywhere. They were nurturing. They were loving, protective, and guarding. He loved and cherished their every being: just as he’d done with his friends, just as he’d do with Orsino. The harsh reality that they’d one day be gone hadn’t settled upon his membrane, and it stirred him into further, pensive silence, drew his eyes to the ground, to a rise of vexation in the kitsune’s throat. He didn’t know what to say or how to feel, other than a choking, clotting bitterness sticking to his vocals, to his mind (because would he take an oath of vengeance again, if they were ever marred, wounded, or taken, or simply sink into despair?), and it ended with a continued measuring of stories, of tragedies. “One of them was murdered.” Beautiful, golden Arwen, with gilded locks of spirit, taken by her boldness, sullied by her audacity; and he’d been too late to do anything but sizzle and spark in rage. “I’m sorry for your losses too.”

But then the other hinted towards movement, and he raised his gaze carefully, speculating, watching, always scrutinizing and examining, as if faults would be presented to him, as though weaknesses would be apparent to his youthful mind and he could find a place to lacerate anyone and everyone fully – but the stag of embers merely seemed preoccupied, stretching across the chilling warren, and offering, bestowing, extending a chance for guidance and support. Baffled, Erebos’ stare was rendered into rounded proportions, before gathering his wits back into the fold, pondering how to answer the other. Should he tell them their names? Should he disclose their triumphs, their legacies, their revelries? He’d already gone so far as to say they were vanished – would it make it all the more real when he spoke their names? The speculation hit him with a chilling, glacial vigor that even the mountains couldn’t place, and he felt a terrible, gnawing ache along his barrel, across his chest. But, maybe the other one could help. Maybe he’d heard of them in his travels. Maybe he knew where they’d all gone, and Erebos could follow their footsteps, track their whereabouts, and bring them back to where they all belonged (with him, with the Basin, with glory at their backs and visions in their eyes). A small emblem of hope stuck to his heart and gathered, settled there, as Orsino’s poignant, gilded glare landed upon the grey stallion, and the scion chiseled his friends’ callings one by one (and if he were a siren, would they be compelled to join him in the midst, by just trumpeting their titles?). “I don’t know where they’ve gone – but maybe you’ve heard of them? A spotted colt named Adelric, a Pegasus filly named Aithniel…” He trailed off, conviction stuttering, before pressing on, because the last one hadn’t been seen in over a year, on a mission with his dam. “And a bay colt called Rikyn?”



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Cathun Posts: 88
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 3 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Tai
#6

Cathun broke out of his own reveries and listened with tilted ears as name after name was dropped. He lamented the unnamed friend - who somehow now felt like his friend too, even though he'd never met them - but focused on those stilled assumed living, sparing only a sympathetic and grateful nod at the offered condolences. Scraping an absent minded hoof over the glittering surface of the snow he mulled, searching his memory for names, faces, traces of anything at all that might be useful. Eventually he looked up at the roan, a puzzled frown twisting the features.

"Rikyn or Adelric I don't know, I'm sorry. But Aithniel... Somehow it feels like I've heard that name before. I can't say for sure, but... I might know where she could be, maybe." He was very hesitant because there was nothing concrete to this ghost of a memory, but whenever he thought of the name there was this flash of recognition within him, a vision o red sand and a feeling of muscles burning in the struggle to keep up with an instructor's harsh voice. Hadn't it been during training? They'd never been introduced, never exchanged words, but by rights Cathun ought to have met the person at least in passing if they really were part of the same herd.... Not that it was a certainty.

But hey, it might be better than nothing.

Now, there was another reason why he hesitated. If he revealed where the lost friend might be, he would have to take this fellow there, wouldn't he? Cathun had been gone from the Throat for almost the span of a season now and with every passing day he got in more and more trouble. The life as a rogue, while harsh and difficult, had its charms and they far outweighed the scolding he knew awaited if he returned. At the same time he missed Amaris....

Glowing furnaces lingered thoughtfully on the young stag, trailed from the colt to the fox and back. He could refuse to say anything more... but was it really alright for him to hold back on such information. He'd already said too much to pretend he knew nothing. Besides, despite all the things he had told Ranjiri, the grullo wasn't completely indifferent to the pains of others. He cared more than he wanted to admit, and if easing this kid's loneliness was something he could do then wasn't that enough to make up for the troublesome pain in the ass of getting back into the graces of his superiors?

"Say, what's your name?" he asked slowly, hoping to stall for time while he quietly fought to make up his own mind.

@[Erebos]

Cathun
The firebrand


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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
#7

He thought about lying almost immediately.

Here was a chance to hone his craft, to speculate, to dazzle, to demonstrate some innate prowess for devilry and mischief, but something inside him put it on pause. An inward trepidation, perhaps a warning from his mother threaded through the stars, or a pinnacle of his good characteristics and values, eclipsed the sinuous, unwinding asp motives. This stag had been kind, and unnecessarily so. He was naught like Essetia and her foul Romul, taking every notion and action he made to scold, to rebuke, to reprimand, and he’d been willing to assist him. What was one more being that knew him? What was one more figure to remember his calling?

Wouldn’t they all, someday?

The serpentine motions and movements ceased, the flutters, the flickers of his frown eroded. He felt Orsino stifle a yawn, no escalating adversities granting him action or cause for alarm, perhaps bored entirely by the proceedings, batting at a few stray leaves that had managed to survive chilling winds and frigid gales; but the scion chiseled and sculpted his doubts, his seditious clamors, to a halt. There was a glimmer of a promise, of a conviction, of an oath dangling in front of him, because his ears had pricked at the mention of Aithniel, at the potential that she still wandered over hither and non, that he hadn’t missed her in passing, that she hadn’t flown off into another warren or cave or labyrinth. Perhaps, for the mere information, for the miniscule tidbit, he could give something of himself.

His excitement grew, undaunted, sparked and kindled, expressed in a momentous bout of exuberance, drawing closer to the taller stag, crouching like a small tiger cub basking in the glow of danger and deceit, at the mounting prowess of a hunt, lion-tail swishing against the snow. The little beast’s smile bloomed and blossomed: luminescent, radiant, bright, as if he were a child completely untouched by woes, by shadows and misfortunes – when they all knew no youth grew to be so innocent, not in Helovia, where murderers plotted and cretins united and daggers were tucked beneath manes. The boy launched into a series of questions, speculating endlessly, fraying at the edges, at the seams, of a ceasing conundrum, of an unraveling mystery. “You do? Could you tell me? Does she live nearby?” Would he be permitted to find her, or did she want to remain anonymous, gliding on the winds, without the past burdening her flight? Was he a burden to her, and that’s why she never told him she was leaving, going, fleeing?

Only thereafter did he thread his calling into the reverie, allowing one more to know who he was, what he could become. “I’m Erebos.” He said naught of his harem, of the land stretching beyond their frames, beautiful and treacherous, deadly and overwhelming, holding a race of power and prestige, an empire surrounded by enigmas, history, legends, and mystique. In return, he beseeched the same inquiry to the other lad. “Who are you?”




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Cathun Posts: 88
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 3 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Tai
#8

So much for stalling. The name rolled easily enough off the kid's tongue and Cathun found himself subjected to a pair of very blue eyes that to him appeared both eager and pleading. Like an overgrown puppy longing for the remnants of a slipper it wasn't sure it really ought to have. His conscience was black as the night around them and the grullo squirmed inwardly, reluctance duking it out with a deep, profound wish to make someone happy.

"Erebos" he repeated, mumbling as he tried out the name on the tongue. He wasn't good with names or faces but he'd try to remember this one, in case any others came looking for missing friends. "I'm Cathun. I.... "

But then the young vagabond sighed, deflating as if someone had pricked the bloated balloon of his pride with a needle. The brightness of his sparks faded a little, as did the glow of the flickering gaze, and whatever confidence it was that Erebos had seen suddenly appeared a bit worn and flaky, peeling off to reveal the petulant child beneath - one not so strong or self-assured, someone that was rather more close to the angst-riddled fox-master that stood opposite.

"I think she's in Dragon's Throat" he said, relenting to the inevitable. What good would keeping quiet do? Nothing but guilt, and he had enough of that stuff to carry anyway. "Can't be sure, never talked to her, but if it's the same filly I think about then she lives there. Like me."

The last was little more than a murmur, quickly thrown out there before he was tempted to leave it out. Erebos would probably need proof of how he could know, right? Sure, he could come up with a lie, tell some tall tale of rumors and wind, but to what end?

"I guess" he continued, and now the reluctance was visible, audible, palpable in the very air, "I could take you there. Unless..." and suddenly Cathun turned his eyes on the unicorn with dawning hope in the eyes, "you know the way?"

Or maybe he was busy, couldn't go, wasn't really interested in seeing the chick after all now that he had a chance... oh it was all insane hope on his part, improbable and rather mean, but Cathun really didn't want to escort this person to the Throat. Not that he had anything against Erebos, the colt was pleasant enough (and hadn't he already decided that they were friends, tied by fate?) it was just that he wasn't in the mood for a telling off by Ampere. Or Gaucho. Or - Cathun shuddered - Amaris.

For some reason, out of the three of them the filly seemed him the most frightening. He didn't know what he'd do if she stopped talking to him. What if she cried?



@[Erebos] Please make him go home xD It's so amusing to watch him squirm.

Cathun
The firebrand


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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
#9

Cathun spilled out the information the prince so desperately craved, and though he watched as the other boy seemingly deflated, fell apart from his coals and his embers, the little blue scion found he didn’t truly care. No sympathy, no empathy, crawled amongst his bones and veins, and for a few instances, he may have been as frigid, as rigid, as distant and glacial as his father. Like a mercenary, he’d gotten what he wanted; and a more selfish inclination to flee, to escape, to wander off into the abyss snatched at his heart, at his mind, at the quiet connection between fox and boy (he could feel tiny, miniscule Orsino beating a war crescendo, a nefarious pulse, full of wiles and immoralities, and he pondered over which one was more sinister than the other, which was the antagonist, which was the provocateur).

But he was grateful too, for Cathun didn’t have to tell him a damn thing, and he’d still be searching amongst the gallows, the shadows, and everything in between. His mother’s scholarly pursuits seemed to prosper again, winning over the inevitable swing of Machiavellian, primordial longings, and fierce, resolute ruminations; the lad dropped his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Cathun.” The smile wrapped around his lips and ensnared eldritch inclinations, snagging into innocence, into hope, into concoctions and stirrings of finding his long lost friend as he glanced back upon the silver, only erupting briefly to ponder over her current whereabouts.

Because…why would Aithniel be in the Dragon’s Throat? When they journeyed there, all three of them, the musketeers, the Lilliputian daggers, the tiny, promising girl and boys of eternal winter, she’d mocked its sultry heat, its torturous sands, its woebegone state, drummed a false name past her throat, whittled it for all to see. Had something changed her mind? Had someone pressed her towards a more nurturing land? Had she found some mission, some purpose, amidst dust and dunes, instead of their ice, their rime, their regime? A portion of him was afraid to know the truth, that it would scatter and skim and then skewer all of his own ambitions, and another part of him merely coveted the savagery, the blunt, keen edge of simply knowing why she’d left and why she’d fled and why she stayed there without them. What made her wander away? What made her stray? Why didn’t she come back? Why did she think she had to escape?

Cathun’s offer was nearly perfection – and though the colt knew the way, he couldn’t relent the fact. He could pretend. He could act. He could play another one of fortune’s fools, to achieve, to acquire, the information he craved. Though the stag of fire seemed completely reluctant, a bestowal was a bestowal, and the greedy, avaricious sentiments building and brewing between the colt’s ears couldn’t be abashed. “I’d love to go there with you!” Erebos settled it with an audacious wink, as if there was naught to fear, naught to fester, not to ruin – and perhaps, on the way, he could ponder over why Cathun seemed so resistant, opposed, and unwilling to go to his own home.



OOC;; Bahahaha. X)
TAG;; @[Cathun]


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Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#10
unarchived per request
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

Cathun Posts: 88
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 3 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Tai
#11

Cathun groaned inwardly as the kids stony demeanor fell away in place of a bright, radiant, oh so grateful smile. With Ranjiri's smug looking face hovering before his inner vision the colt sighed and nodded, reluctant but unable to find any excuses good enough to take him out of this mess. He would just have to go back the the Throat, there was nothing for it now.

"Better just get it over with" he muttered under his breath, hopefully quiet enough that Erebos wouldn't hear the reluctance (as if it hadn't been plain enough already). "Are you ready to go now, or do you have business to take care of first? Doesn't matter to me either way" he said, struggling to keep a misplaced feeling of growing resentment from showing on his face. The happier his new acquaintance became the less Cathun liked him, it seemed, even if it was just a result of his own inherent issues. The joyful smile seemed somehow misplaced on the dark youths face too, for that matter. Like a blinding ray of sunlight in the middle of the night, or a dancing dolphin in a tutu flopping on a lonely mountain top.  

He shuffled his feet through the snow where he stood, quietly hoping that the other would have a ton of things to take care of before they had to leave for the south. Family to alert, friends to drag along - no wait, the other friend was missing too - leaders to notify... Then of course there were a lot of things that could go wrong on the journey to the desert island too. They could get separated, get in an accident, or Cathun could simply disappear in the night and the other would be left none the wiser...

The last was such a joyful prospect that the long-legged grullo turned the thought over in his mind for several pleasurable moments before the first traces of guilt caught up with his sense of honor. Should he really leave the younger Erebos on his own out there in the wild? Was it worth the self-loathing just to avoid a place he knew he would have to return to sooner or later anyway? Not to mention that both his honor and dignity would receive serious blows in the process... going back on his word, abandoning a person in need, betraying the trust of a new potential friend...

He sighed miserably. He never knew it was such hard work, being noble.


___________________________________________
@Erebos  So sorry for the wait!

Cathun
The firebrand


» Magic and Violence is permitted at all times
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Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#12


What if this whole crusade's a charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid


Snow breaks before me, a white depth that I plunge through with almost abandon, having lost myself in the feeling of my body fighting the sheet of white and the freedom that floods through me each time I rise over it and plunge ahead. It’s somewhat careless, as I can’t really see much beneath the veneer of snow, but I can’t find worry for my well being in my thoughts as I dash most recklessly down paths of stone and ice, too young to really believe in knowing better.

Anyway, I’m hauling ass for no good reason what so ever when I catch sight of a dark figure on the horizon, a figure that is so familiar that it actually makes me slow my pace to a heavy canter, the sound of my hooves breaking through the snow a thud that fills my ears as I breathe deep on the wind to verify what I see with my eyes. Some stranger is with him, some stranger without a horn, but I find that I don’t really care at all who the horse is or why he is there. I really only care about the bearded, dark maned unicorn who stands with him...

Erebos!

I think the name with a thrill that makes my heart nearly explode, a thrill that spreads from my heart out to the very tips of my body and sends me flying across the snow like a man chased by demons – or running into the arms of his long lost best friend.

He’s exactly as I remember him, only older, his body aged like mine and lined with muscles that had been absent in our youths, his brow adorned with a long, spiraling horn of black tipped in blue. Maybe its rude to completely ignore the gray, ember bedazzled guy here with us, but I find I have very little room in my thoughts for him as I slide, half kicking, to a halt before the skull marked roan, laughter finding my lips and reaching every inch of my figure, my tail swishing and swaying in delight.

"Erebos!"

I don’t think of how long we’ve been apart, of whether or not he is mad at me for leaving like I did. I’ve missed him, and I cannot wait to hear of his adventures, to share my own. I just now notice the dark pelted kitsune, his golden eyes watchful, and feel a delight racing through me that he has bonded, a delight that is darkened by the truth that I know nothing of his fox friend or how it was found.

"Is it really you?"

[ OOC: thread crashhhhhhhh ]
For the blood on which we dine
Justified in the name of the Holy and the Divine.





Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

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
#13

The other boy’s sigh, and strange muttering thereafter, hinted at derision and scorn, and filled Erebos with a sense of outrageous glee and mischief, as if he’d managed to conjure a token of irritation simply by being nice, obliging, and stalwart. He held his laughter in, but Orsino erupted over their connection, a manic set of giggles rampaging over him like a typhoon, cackling away with cruel, indulgent mirth, and the sneak of Erebos’ smile curled into the impending tide of a smirk. The lad forced it away, however, bending over the fractious elements, coasting through the wayward enterprise, rejoicing at the notion he’d soon see Aithniel. Perhaps he’d try to get her to come back to the Aurora Basin, where the ice still gleamed, the mountains still towered, conquered, where persistence was key, and domination was always the underlying pursuit. He opened his jaw to ensure Cathun of his readiness, and perhaps to watch the other wither and decay a little more before his eyes, nothing holding him back, nothing clinging to his skin, to his thoughts, to his threshold. “I could go now-“
 
But then, a voice shattered over the horizon. It sounded earnestly familiar, as reckless, as foolhardy, as it’d always been, posturing along rubbles, ruin, and disaster of their own making. In disbelief, the child forgot what he was saying to the ember-beast, and swiftly turned his head towards the opposing source, jaw dropping, eyes widening, heart and mind ignited by how the unruly ways of the gods, the deities, and the earth, always managed to have something more in store for him.
 
“Rikyn!” His vocals echoed his sentiments, bright, blistering, scorching flames and wild, untamed exuberance, chasing after the other soul as he came crashing into their wake – and the day suddenly turned all the more wonderful, and the chill of the unknown seemed to vanish before his eyes. One of them had been brought back to him, and he wouldn’t waste the opportunity to fully engulf his devotion, his adherence, or his allegiance to the long-lost friend. The beast charged ahead and grabbed hold of Rikyn as if he were a lifeline, intertwining his neck around the bay’s for a few precious moments, feeling the weight of so many questions, so many mysteries, unravel and billow into the mist.
 
Thereafter, he stepped back, grinning ear-to-ear, fierce and ferocious, examining, studying, trying to determine all the changes Rikyn had made in their time apart. Aside from his height, already over Erebos, everything seemed the same – the markings, the personality, the haphazard, irreverent prowess. “Where have you been? What have you been up to? We have so much to talk about!” The questions and responses flew from his tongue with alarming ease, postured and tightened, longing to be regaled, to understand, why and where all his companions drifted to, how they’d come back. The holes needed to be filled, and perhaps, given another time, another moment, another place, they’d be able to coax everything out of each other. Orsino was only one of many things that had altered the boy’s life.
 
Forgoing the potential for rudeness, he nodded towards the gray-clad, still charming, still spellbinding. “This is Cathun. He’s promised to take me to the Dragon’s Throat to see Aithniel.” Here, he pressed a meaningful look upon Rikyn, to act in pretense, to guide him along the channels of duplicity again, already stoking the flames of yesteryear, to pretend like they’d never wandered into the ramparts themselves, twisting anomalies and fashioning guises, gliding across nefariousness. “She’s gone there for some reason. I was hoping to see her.” The little lad maneuvered his skull once more upon Cathun, and flew back into potential indulgences. “Perhaps…you wouldn’t mind taking both of us?”




OOC;; Poor Cathun.
TAG;;


image credits
- table by Niki -


@Cathun @Rikyn


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