the Rift


[PRIVATE] Full Circle

Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#1
CONFUTATIS
But we're talking kings and successions



Escape! Freedom! It beckoned to her -- beseeched her, crooned a song of lovely things unto her ear, and she, she was not one to argue with the wind's call, nor was she willing to hesitate in her pursuit. It was meant to be. From the Throat she fled, from flame and ash and dust and desecration, across a narrow sea to her purpose, her calling, her final mission before at long last returning to Tyradon and finding a golden reign to glory in. A nigh-delirious grin twitched across her lips, a blissful and joyous declaration of high spirits and wild fervor. They were awaiting her. Son and daughter, both mirror images of their sire and dam, perfectly weighted to one another to achieve maximum potential.

Hers. If they remembered her -- if they knew she still existed, and hadn't lost all hope. Eyelids slither dryly across golden irises, her lips puckering in sorrowful remorse; oh, let them forgive her! And let she forgive them -- because she could not guarantee that she wouldn't want to cut their throats upon seeing them, give them a beating they had never even felt before. Her heart was no doubt soon to split in two, between the two divided wants -- her thankfulness for their [presumed] safety, how obedient they had been in staying away, and her presumptuous rage, her fury, that they had not sooner attempted...

While, they had attempted. And she had turned them back, marveling at their ingenuity and yet determined to escape on her own (out of sheer stubborn, in all truth.)

The sun crested the horizon and in the dawn of a new day Confutatis stood in where it had begun and where it would end, for her at least. Time had passed too soon -- and she should've been there longer, to better ease the twins onto the path of ambition and prowress. Still; you never really were prepared for it, the hunger and drive, the bloodthirst and insanity...

"It's time."

Mongrel glanced at her; rumbled in his throat; and disappeared in a flash of smoky fur, to fetch the twins and return them to the Heavenly Fields, a place of ascension.

Join the Regime.

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#2
Volterra & Vérzés
We're in love with defeat / And we march to the beat
But I know what I've seen's not out of reach / So give it to me, give it to me

Mother.

The mongrel kitsune that greets him can only be his dam's dog; the colt's ears prick, his thick neck arching and massive head flailing towards the sky as he unleases a bestial bellow of delight. Mother! He thinks of nothing else but the ground under his hooves as he breaks into a headlong gallop, demanding Vérzés rise into the heavens to visualize his path to his creator. In tandem, black yearling and red dragon bomb towards their source, towards the skull-faced mare who made them.

Quickly, the territory becomes familiar. The leviathan slows, snorting an icy blast of air from his nostrils as he realises where he is. A year and a half ago, his wet, fledgling frame emerged onto this very soil in a blast of blood and agony, with his sister alongside him. He remembers dragons of bronze and green, of a black egg given to his twin, of a magic-imbued amulet given to him, of the mysterious man that sired him and gave him his white forelegs, his size, and his lust. Ah, is mother dearest feeling a tad nostalgic?

And there she is, in all her glory - she emits monstrosity, she demands obedience. As he gets closer, he realises he towers over her now, and marvels at the fact he once fit like a puzzle piece inside her body. But despite his size, despite his power, he holds his proud head low, demure. She is Mother, one of the only living beings he truly respects. He wonders what greeting she has in store for him - will it be a loving embrace, or a fierce nip of venom and steel? Will she be proud of what her son has grown into, or disgusted at the fact they did not break her from her prison? They tried, of course, but it simply wasn't possible.

Vérzés lands heavily on the giant's forequarters. Curiosity tints their bond, and Volterra detects an urge to go closer, to examine the mare who smells of corrosion. He has only seen her from a distance, but now she is here in all her glory. "Mother," rumbles the beast, edging closer. There is little use lurking a safe distance away - if she wants to punish him, she will. And he, black king, does not cower. He extends his velvet muzzle, seeking to slowly blow into her nostrils in greeting, not showing a single sign of flinching away despite the fact he fully expects to feel teeth snap into the tender skin of his face.


image credits

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#3
CONFUTATIS
But we're talking kings and successions



Volterra.

Her amber eye closes as she focuses on the thickening tendril of thought between her and her companion. From the back of her mind, where Mongrel and her are tied together, there is a hazy image coming into sharp clarity -- her son. At first, through Mongrel's foreign eyes, she almost mistakes him for Tyradon. His body has swelled and flourished into something sculpted and hard, thick brawn and chiselled architecture stitched together into dark hardiness and heavy sinew. It's only her instinct -- as mother, despite their time apart, that indicates her to his true nature. She wouldn't couldn't ever forget the happy shifts to his tilted face, his slow cunning, his dedication and determination; everything that made him him, and hers.

Deep, deep within her chest, in the corners of her perplexing heart where she does her best to ignore it, she fears Volterra now, but not for his flourishing strength, but for her failure, for her inadequacies, for her inepititude. When he comes to her (and she can see him, speeding over soil with Mongrel flitting along at his galloping hooves) will he bow his head, will he submit? Or will he snarl and snap?

Soon enough, she does not need Mongrel's eyes to see that black shape on the horizon, growing in her line of sight; does not need his nose to smell her son on the breeze; does not need his ears to hear the thunder of his hoofbeats and the crashing tides of his breathing.

The World Eater stands, all pointed angles and scarred gladiator, poised and impassive. Her jaw is stiff and unyielding, her eyes slitted and jaded, and her neck curled, body language all decidedly dominating. Inwardly, she is crumpled and indisposed, coiled and desperate, lost and full of longing for what will never be. My son. My son. Volterra; with her eyes, with his father's body, and who knew whose heart?

Mother.
The boy stallion steps forwards, head reaching towards hers. The wolf doesn't move, but accepts his gentlemanly gesture nonetheless. She doesn't muster any ill will for him (much as she wishes she could); he had done what she had asked, after all.

"Where's your sister?" Her gaze scuttles away from him, skipping back to her companion; Mongrel rumbles dissatisfactorily in the back of her head, tails twitching outwardly. "... do you not travel with one another?" Acid bites into the cut of her voice, insidious cruelty working across vowels and consonants both.

credits
@Volterra

OOC: Sorry for the crappy and late post .__. Hopefully they'll get better...
Join the Regime.

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#4
Volterra & Vérzés
We're in love with defeat / And we march to the beat
But I know what I've seen's not out of reach / So give it to me, give it to me

Her rebuke does not come; her teeth don't pierce his flesh, her corrosion does not burn hair from skin. There is no affection forthcoming, not that he had expected any, but he allows his lips to flutter across her skin, tasting sweat and captivity and mother. Then he withdraws, tail swinging idly around his thickset hocks. His dragon, losing interest, takes off again. "Mother-dragon strong, to make strong hatchlings." The dragon's broken words have a valid point, and the giant flicks his jaws into a smirk. Strong bitches produce strong pups. He should never have doubted his dam's ability to escape by herself when she had the strength in her to create such powerful twins.

His mind flashes to Nymeria at exactly the same moment Confutatis mentions her. He remembers their last meeting, their argument; the closest they'd ever come to falling out. It pains him that his sister had turned out to be right, that he should never have doubted his dam. But, he reasons, he doesn't know what has happened to her during her captivity. She could have been defiled, as he had so feared - but he is sure that if so, her assailant's head and balls alike now lie in a bloody pile. She is returned, glorious and whole. Whatever happened during her imprisonment is in the past now. The future is what mattered - their glorious future, together.

He still has her question to deal with. "I don't doubt she'll be along soon," he says, abruptly, dismissively. Yes, it kills him that he and his twin seem to have drifted further apart as age matures their bodies and sharpens their minds. Yes, he wants to follow her every hour of every day to make sure he is the only one that gets to touch her, but that is easier said than done when she is her own woman. "We still meet regularly, but we think it wise to become as strong in our own right as we are paired. We spend some time apart to achieve this." Even if it kills me.

He shakes his massive head, flinging tendrils of mane like a storm around his head. "What of you, Mother? How did you escape?" His curiosity is evident. He had seen the land bridge for himself, and unless his dam swam, he cannot see how she managed to flee unseen. But she had managed it - perhaps with the power of hell itself.


image credits


@Confutatis

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#5
CONFUTATIS
But we're talking kings and successions



The rough tenor of his voice is dismissive, surly, rumpled like an unmade bed with his uncaring; a rebuke rises to her lips, a snap and snarl, but she holds it closed within, waiting, judging, her son's reaction. Instead, her body language resets itself subtly, her crest hardening, eyes sharpening, ears fixating forth--and this, this shift of her sinews and flex of her muscles, is both startling and predatory, menacing and fearsome. Even lacking the demonic spine of her armour (long-stolen by Deimos) there was an undeniable lordliness to her frame, an air of elitism and arrogance.

His explanations echo as excuses, Confutatis muses; her golden eye follows the movement of his lips with increasing skepticism. Scorn rises within her presumed apathy, distaste and rage--he should not have left her side. When had they grown apart? What had she missed in her years of confinement? They had never been this way before. Always, for as long as she could remember, they had traveled together, fought together, got into trouble together (and yet this was no longer.) Why? What had changed? Was it her absence? Or was it simply the way it was meant to be between the two of them?

Still she withholds comment, icy and contemptuous, ever-listening. When he asks his question, she holds her silence for a drawn-out minute, thinking, wondering, debating the worthiness of punishing his impertinence... and then inwardly shrugging. "The guards had grown weary of guarding me, when I had remained for so long without escape. In the night when I decided to leave, Mongrel remained to shape illusions of my body staying there; meanwhile, I swam the sea. It was doable, if not easy; Mongrel joined me after I was safely away."

And then she marched on, leaving the subject firmly closed.

"I am leaving Helovia, Volterra, once I have spoken to Nymeria. I am returning to your father, and his herd outside of this land." She drew breath, her cold eyes bidding no interruption--"it's your time here, to rule, to lead. You know are meant to be a conquerer, a king, and you will recall the lessons I have taught you. Firstly, I would suggest taking a patron god, although ultimately it is up to you. Should you earn a god's favor, I have no doubt that you might more easily be able to take his or her herdland, should you wish it--although it will be hard. Have you put any thought into where you might want to go?"

credits
@Volterra
Join the Regime.

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#6
Volterra & Vérzés
We're in love with defeat / And we march to the beat
But I know what I've seen's not out of reach / So give it to me, give it to me

Suddenly she hardens, becoming all sharp edges and refined menace. It takes every ounce of the colt's strength not to wince, shy away. He is better than that. She is silent after his question, and when she speaks, he believes her. After all, he has no reason not to. He wants to believe her, and so he does. It is far grander for his mother to have manipulated her way out of her iron cage to freedom, as oppose to simply being released out of a captor's boredom. She is the World-Eater - she rips through chains and leaves only broken bones behind. Pride blossoms in him, and he snorts his approval of her technique.

Then she speaks again. Then she crushes him. His proud posture sags slightly, each hard, rippling muscle relaxing slightly as a huff of sorrow flees unbidden from his lips. But...you can't. She wants to leave. Leave him. Leave them. What for? To fuck his father and make dozens more powerful twins? Twins who will actually get to know their sire, and grow up within a herd, priveleged and adored - jealousy flares within the beast for these unborn, fictitious siblings, and his eyes harden. She inhales, and continues, reaffirming his desire to be a king, to rule. Now his ears prick, eager. Oh, to have a crown heavy upon his head! To have a legion of mares to take beneath him at will, and strong soldiers to march into battle at his side! It is what he has always dreamed of, and what he will one day achieve. It won't be as easy as his dam thinks, though. The twins are unknown, unloved. None will support them should it come to an invasion. Before he can even think of ruling, he will need to gather followers.

She suggests a patron God, and his mind immediately shifts to the Earth God. "Of the Gods I have met, the God of Earth is the one I would most likely pledge my allegiance to. I know not what herd he patrons, however." He knows little of the herdlands, save for the fragments of information Confutatis has fed him. He has seen the Throat from a distance, danced on the edge of the Falls' borders with Isopia, but would not exactly call himself learned on the herdlands. "I confess I have given it little thought. The land itself matters less to me than the herd within it." Land is land; it is useful for battles, but a strong army can overcome geographical handicaps. "Have you any recommendations?"


image credits


@Confutatis

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]





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