the Rift


[OPEN] Like a fungus

Camon Posts: 40
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15.2 :: 2 :: Birdsong Buff: NOVICE
Angel
#1
That late season rainstorm brought in a downpour of frigid antarctic air from the northeast. Tolerable pellets of moisture quickly merge to pea size balls of sleet. Wet conditions combine with a dropping temperature and both make for a cold, unforgiving bed to sleep upon. The forest is slicker than the belly of a fish -- even the denser groves of the clotted evergreens are coated with transparent ice. It wasn't long before the fragile first flakes of snow begin to fall, their appearance is begrudgingly expected. With the arrival of winter I've hit my roughing it limit.

The surrounding area (at least two miles out) is scuffed with marks of intense forging, all for the sake of a half starved filly. By now the acorns and tuber roots had run out -- a day ago Miss. Lady Luck smiles upon our miserable situation. I find a cluster of wild frost onion, young and sweet -- without bitterness these lips form a fib about eating my share of the find, successfully giving it over to Zahra. Luck would sustain life for another afternoon. The following morning saw those fragile greens buried beneath hard frost and covered with a thin layer of snow. This forest would become a grave for us both if we didn't move soon.

Impatient I turn these weary eyes to the first light of another dreary, cold, and wet dawn. A scowl furrows my brow and the chilling breeze sends vibrations straight to the bone. These limbs turn back to our bed, the butt of my moist snout shuffles to bump against a cold black shoulder. Without fondness these emeralds glare at our soon to be abandoned home...shelter. This was far from being even what I would consider homely. A fine layer of frost had collected overnight -- it made the slushy ground firm to touch. Perhaps her soft feet would have an easier time treading on terrain that didn't squish and squash.

"Come on," my tone is soft, but the plush notes are tainted with exhausted frustration -- "Let's find someplace warmer..." brows pitch toward the canopy, the tangling was good for blocking wind -- but it also was a blockade against our sky view and any warmth that might filter down. "Sunnier," a forced smile chases across these creamy lips, pointlessly convincing, it fades just as quickly. I turn away, expecting her to follow without argument and only halfway wondering if I'd care to handle a rebuke.

During our exhausting trek of slipping and sliding along many different paths -- my mind drifts to warmer places in an attempt to feel a tiny bit less like shit. One such place stands out from the rest, a blue fire spiderweb. With the memory comes remembrance of a massive individual. I level my attention wordlessly on the swirling torrent around me; that heavy wind has gone from frightening, confusing, highly agitating, annoying, frustrating, until finally with a long sigh...I'd come to accept it. Zahra and Bird had done a good job being a distraction. To think I've almost grown accustomed to living in a bubble. Almost. Zahra had called this place, Deep Forest. Deep Forest. Deep Wood. Same stretch of land...right?

That mountain god did mention (before vanishing) that 'Deep Wood' was in the east. Helpful... By way of rising sun, (which is now at our back,) I'd come to the obvious conclusion long ago that we had gone east. Crown lowers to the stiff trail with another frustrated sigh, mud pockets are frozen solid -- dead, wet leaves stick up from our path. The hard tips are half fringed with white. A mile later the way branches off from its zigging pattern, it sways gently to the left. Eroted soil creates a gully and the faint musical tinkling of icy water catches the interest of two ears that sit nicely upon my skull. Even from twenty feet away I can see the surface is liquid crystal, fragments of debris had fallen on the pale surface. The flab of skin in my mouth is dry. Dehydration was less noticeable in these conditions, but no less an issue. Our headway takes a detour -- my forefeet will serve as a perfect battering ram to break the swell.


Art by Bronzehalo. Table by Riven


@[Zahra]

Zahra Posts: 64
Outcast
Filly :: Pegasus :: 15hh :: 2 Years
Hanna :: Common Kitsune :: Fire & Ilham :: Bark Spider :: None Riven
#2
Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna
It was pride that turned angels into devils
The reprieve in weather – within which Zero was discovered, and the crow-mare – barely lasted the length of a single day. It was certainly not enough to thaw the frigidness from the hibernating world. It had only worsened through the hours that followed, days, perhaps weeks (she soon lost track). Daylight was weak beneath a heavy grey blanket across heaven’s doorstep and the sun seldom sank through the canopy to touch the hidden land below with its warming glory. It felt like the northern snow she had once traipsed amid was spreading, like a puddle’s girth into which rain constantly fell. Seeping slowly to drown anything not already prepared – well accustomed to the wrath of the icy season. The orphan foal huddled in grim shadow beneath the groaning forest roof, was hardly expecting this, her first Frostfall, to be quite so brutal.

A magnificent web that easily rivalled the span of surrounding boughs had been strung about the makeshift shelter discovered many days ago – a glistening signal upon which gathered frost-crystals, a beacon of life and beauty, when the weight of winter disheartened young hearts it beckoned chattering smiles across thin inky lips.

Zahra was cold, bitterly so, and her bony, fleshless body shook violently where it curled in a tight ball upon the furrow-nest their brother had helped dig. Camon had left early in the morning – the trips he was making seemed to grow in length all the time – and she was missing both his company and warmth terribly (even if he did not always reciprocate with the same level of childish affection). The physical battle to stay alive, she fought both bravely and ferociously, fuelled by each morsel the stallion returned with. Though she looked ever tattier by the day and her strength wavered precariously as the cruel fingers of hypothermia caressed her prickled, shivering skin, she rose to nuzzle Camon and dress him comprehensively in gratitude whenever he came back.

One morning amid a string of many the same, Zarha woke to the gentle nudging of her brother – a request for attention, and she was immediately surprised to find he had not yet left to forage. She turned her black nose towards him slowly; the bag she had given him (that which had been one her mother’s most valued possessions), was slumped beside her – a puny, pitiful defence that offered a small sliver of body reprieve from the breeze. The little filly smiled for him, brightly, and her movement spurred the cosy-warm kitsune cradled across her legs, also to lift her face. He spared no time for tender greeting (the sort which once she had shared on any and every occasion with doting parents), he rarely did, and summoned her from bed to find another.

“Alright,” she answered softly, though she knew in truth it was a matter of follow or freeze – Camon strained a smile and turned then to leave.

Stiffly and across uncooperative legs she rose beneath the heavy collar (she refused to remove it), trailing slowly at first, but eventually finding movement more freely. Not long after, the poorly clothed child was cantering gently by his hip, a clumsy, jolting speed that switched often between the rambling gait of his father’s lineage and that loping, long gracefulness of her mother. Perhaps eventually one would become more comfortable than the other. Ilham had retreated promptly into the toasty burrow crafted with web to the centre of her sister’s stunted mane, and Bird shadowed her older sister’s path from a distance, keeping hungry eyes peeled for the slightest flicker to suggest that breakfast lurked nearby. For the moment however, her stark white incisors held firmly the old leather satchel in their gasp.

The sweet tinkle of moving water drew Zahra’s interest almost as easily as it did the stallion she flanked. It was easily the most exciting feature of this endless forest that they had come across in days, and her nostrils purged breath after sharp breath as she searched ahead for the glint that might reveal its location. “Zis our new place?” she waffled eagerly, aiming an uninvited nuzzle beneath the long feathers of his wing. “Coz… I really like water…” she lied quietly through gritted teeth. It was a fear learned when she had slipped during a waterfall adventure when she had been even younger still (a memory blurred by magic, but rooted still deeper then such power could touch).

Not nearly as shy as she had been around the stallion (he had offered her vegetables now on many an occasion) and driven by overbearing thirst, Bird swept by her dithering sister. The bag fell with a muffled thump as she went and as the icy shell shattered well beyond the battering the puppy’s tongue discovered water colder than ever it had tasted before.
image credits
Permission given for all except death
Please only tag Zahra in openers and spars


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Camon Posts: 40
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15.2 :: 2 :: Birdsong Buff: NOVICE
Angel
#3
New place? With trademark bland disinterest I reply simply, < font color= white>"Nope." Attention shifts to the foggy mirror below. Each hot breath comes as a plume that spins around my hovering muzzle, inches from the surface. The nearest velvet listener eases toward Zahra, her cool exhale brushes against the length of one long feather. A quiet smirk flicks across these lips when she exasperates her opinion of water. So young and already so brilliant. "The place I've got in mind has loads of water." One brow rises, these gems shift to regard her compacently, "Since you seem to be continually enjoying it." During these painful weeks I'd almost forgotten how it felt to be warm and DRY.

Irises flicker with endangered warmth, the same amusment is playing across these lips in the form of a coltish smirk, "Of course it won't taste near as good," my right forehoof rose, the adolescent hairs are damp and only going to get wetter. With a slight jerk the foot crashes into the thin surface, "This." With concealed rush my mouth lowers to the glassy water and inhales quick gulps of the crisp liquid, hardly tasting its earthy flavor. "Come on." Amber chin rises, still dripping. My stomach sloshes, full, yet unsettled by the shock of such cold refreshment. "Drink up, you haven't had anything since last night." Zahra was usually quick to obey, perhaps my unarguable tone was bordering bossy -- no biggy...it wasn't like I cared what she thought of me.

I start to step aside, allowing the gilden filly ample room to drink her fill beside Bird. Below the stagnant water, a small ivory stone catches my eye. Limestone (or so I guess.) The stones around it are bland and brown, but this one is glossy, smoother looking then the topside of a waxy palm leaf. Even if the color might've caught my gaze, that alone certainly wasn't enough to hold it. Aside from it's unusual color and shine, the center is set around four stems, or leaves is a better term. Each leaf is separately branching with less than an inch from it's sister. In a sense, it looked like a big clover leaf -- smaller than the frog of a foot, yet larger and more complete than an average pebble.

Without extra ceremony I sink my muzzle below and snatch it up (along with a few of the adjacent stones that rest on either side.) Gems shift to the pale dog lapping at the pool; they turn to the heavy satchel which now lies sluggishly on the ground. The tanned leather was sturdy enough to hold plantlife, though it's deeply weathered. This winter would probably be the last good one it saw. Dropping my bounty, which consists of that ivory leaf limestone and three brackish stones, "Let me carry the bag awhile," I level a hard look at my traveling companions, wondering and sadly guessing they likely didn't understand the gravety of our situation. Traveling companions. Ha! My momma would be laughing her tail off is she saw who and what I was bedding near.

Or she'd curse me and herself for whelping such a fool headed son.

One of the two...

"We've got a long walk ahead of us..."


Art by Bronzehalo. Table by Riven


@[Zahra]

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#4
unarchived per request
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

Zahra Posts: 64
Outcast
Filly :: Pegasus :: 15hh :: 2 Years
Hanna :: Common Kitsune :: Fire & Ilham :: Bark Spider :: None Riven
#5
Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna
It was pride that turned angels into devils

Young, naïve, and apparently far lesser travelled than she had first presumed, Zahra could not help but be swept up by the wild beauty – the feral wilderness – which seemed to grow by the second around them. The sounds grew ever louder, nearer, like the rouge, ringing welcome of an early-bird meeting the dawn. The chorus in this dank region was far less cheerful, and not at all inviting – a loud and penetrating ’kee-ow’ stunned listening ears backwards, but the strangely rhythmic rattle of a frog nearby called them forward once again. So too was the stench startling and thin nostrils tasted it with a cautious wrinkle between; water, mould and the reek of those who had wandered through before, lay thickly upon the hardly moving air.
 
Zahra pressed nearer to the stallion’s warmth. He on the other hand, struck the film of ice keeping the pool at bay.
 
“Oh but Camon I-I… I like dry places too.” The scrawny filly blurted gullibly, entirely uninspired by the newest of his revelations despite her best efforts to remain gracious. “… And warm ones.” she mused further as an afterthought, remembering again that warm nest, snug beneath the rocky mountains great golden heart. He hurried her to drink, and the gilt-bellied child dipped her lips promptly to the biting cold water. She sucked through softly pursed lips and gulped hard the burning bubble that built in her throat. “Its horribly cold…” she murmured, more to the pale kitsune crouched to her side than any other – she could feel the fluid leak into her stomach like the prickle of gnawing bot-flies in summer.
 
Though Camon soon stepped aside, the foal remained to fill the void which solid matter seemed never to satisfy.
 
It was only as his nose plunged suddenly that Zahra pulled clear, and her small canine sister rumbled disconcertedly as she too withdrew swiftly. Together they watched (almost suspiciously), as he pulled free and dropped a small selection of things. “What’s that?” She queried, naturally interested in anything that snared the stallion’s. Neat toes dither forward towards the slumped leather as it took possession of the treasures, but Camon shot a glance by her which prompted a pause to her wondering. “Alright,” small tone answered quickly, and she turned to bump her white cheek against the puppy. She wasn’t that interested anyway…

image credits
Permission given for all except death
Please only tag Zahra in openers and spars


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