the Rift


[OPEN] these days of dust

Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
#1
rohan
It’s probably about time that the Warlander returns to the Edge—his herd land, his home (even though it has yet to resemble anything of the word). Granted, he tends to be a fairly nomadic individual on most days, so the lack of attachment to the thick mists and moist forests is not entirely surprising; he tries, and that is enough for now.

A short while has already come and gone since his official acceptance—another bloody battle won, and then even more blood and…mess…while lingering at the side of the little bay mare, the terrible event of her pregnancy an experience that he both cherishes and detests. How fickle and strange the heart can be.

Having escorted her safely to borders of her own mountain home, the antlered stallion had wasted little time in bidding her farewell. She had protested at first—beckoning for him to join her, to step inside, fearful of her solitude—but already aware of the guiles and temptresses that lay wait in that northern Basin, he had stood fast in his rejection. Let them bring their sirens out to him, drawing their enchantments out from the mountain’s shadow (for if he were to step into their fold, he fears he would be too weak to escape from Jezebel’s call, and his pride is much too stubborn to allow that). And so even with her silent scowl piercing his back (adorable in her little tantrum), he had continued his way to the west.

It is with an unceremonious flare that Rohan finally crosses into the familiar borders, his large, sweeping gait carrying him proudly forward. Cautiously he steps over the shattered remains of the glass wall, a few long threads of his tail snagging on the jagged shards and he casts a short glance over his shoulder. “Just as welcoming as ever,” he laughs dryly to himself, brown lips twisting into something of a cynical smirk before he presses on again.

The glimmering light of mid-dusk filters in through the trees, laying a patchwork of shadows across the ground, left damp from the heavy mists of spring. Beneath the leafy green boughs, the land is cast into a haze, the stallion’s body haloed by golden light from the sun’s dying glow. He breathes easily, dark-rimmed ears resting at idle attention, little more than the occasional chirping of a bird to accompany the muted sound of his hooves.


notes; For Nuray, but open to anyone who wants to hop in! I'd like him to become more acquainted with his herd xD
“Speech.”

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
image credits
@Nuray
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.

Nuray Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#2
stars in your multitudes, scarce to be counted. filling the darkness with order and light.
You are the sentinels. silent and sure. keeping watch in the night.
A skilled artist painted the sky with beautiful hues of orange, pink, and purple. Dusk was a wondrous time of day. Not only were eyes blessed by the sight of the masterpiece being drawn in the sky but it was also a time when the power shifted. As the Sun went to sleep the Moon began to rise overhead. There was a moment where they met, colliding in a brilliance performance, as the Sun handed the crown to the Moon as she took her reign over the skies.

It was around dusk, which whispered of the coming night, when the ethereal figure came out to play. Her eyes yearned for the stars to come out, so that she may read the stories they held. However today was different than usual. This moment lacked allure. Instead golden orbs squinted in displeasure as the light still seemed so awfully bright. Darkness was beginning to shroud the lands yet still she could not focus, her vision overly-sensitive to the bright colors.

She slumped through the shadows away from the herd. Each step was correlated with a thumping in her head: as if she was marching to a drum only she could hear. While her insides welled up with contempt, the maiden was able to keep her delicate and graceful pose. She walked with purpose even if she was just lurking in the darkness the trees presented.

A voice caused her ears to swivel. Her mind scowled as she pressed forward. It did not wish to continue this walk nor did her brain wish to hold a conversation. Still the silken mare was curious. There was also that matter that the pale woman hardly knew the members of her herd. Information was a valuable, valuable resource.

From the shadows she stepped, dipping her crown in a silent greeting. In the light casting down on her she looked ever so vulnerable with most of her body nakedly exposed to the world around her. The cunning in her eyes, however, was enough to make one instantly wary in believing that she was a harmless damsel.

"The broken glass resembles the herds resilience. While it may lay shattered on the ground it is hardly defenseless, nor powerless. With one wrong step it could slice through a tendon. It's a wonderful metaphor." she mused. "'Tis also a lovely way to warn those who would seek to intrude ours lands by the cover of the night." Only foolish horses would try such a thing. It was under the cover of night with the moonlight shining upon them that the World's Edge was at its strongest.


"Talk?"

ooc I am so sorry I forgot about this ^^"
@Rohan
image credits

@Random Event - HFH

Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
#3
rohan
The stallion’s ears tilt backwards before they turn to focus on the arrival of someone else, someone new. From the swirling mists she steps towards him, her willowy body unlike any creature he has seen before—both naked and haired, nimble and elegant, she reminds him of a minx—enchanting and cunning in her wiles—as she sweeps forward to greet him. The stallion comes to a smooth halt, the thick length of his tail swishing once around his lower back legs, some strands entwining with the dark hair that feathers their front.

She speaks to him in metaphors, her voice as smoky as the murky fog that surrounds them, likening their herd’s resilience to the shattered glass wall that lays crumbling behind him. Rohan’s brown nostrils curl as he exhales slowly, his thick neck arching as he casts a glance to the crushed clear crystal. While certainly intriguing, he has never found himself particularly drawn to its jagged remains—it has never seemed welcoming. Not that the Warlander cares much for such things, but even he recognizes that (surely) there must be a difference between a fortress and a home (even if the Edge has yet to become just that).

Perhaps it is all a moot point anyway.

“Who’s to say I’m not an intruder myself, sweetheart? The jagged edges have done little to sway my advance,” there is an ominous edge that colors his deep voice, playful it might be, accompanied by the crooked smirk that skews his lips as he turns his face to look back to her. His long forelock tangles with the lower points of his antlers, draping over his brow in creamy, unruly curls.

Of course, Rohan doesn’t mean to oppose the pale mare, merely challenge her a little bit (because what’s the fun in a game, if there is no competition?) in any case, she seems to be more than up to the task. Shifting his weight forward, the striped stallion continues almost absentmindedly, his voice slipping musingly from his lips. “Either way, I believe a wall would do better—and it’d certainly be more aesthetically pleasing,” his green eyes wander again to the broken glass, considering it for a moment, before returning to the horned minx, “but it would seem the Moon has seen fit to grace me with enough beauty tonight.”

He flirts with her shamelessly, giving her a coquettish twist of his lips and an enticing—hungry, even—gleam that flares through his earthy eyes. Lowering his large antlers and curving his muscled neck in an overly dramatic bow, the Warlander introduces himself in a flourish of practiced, theatrical charm, “My name is Rohan, I’m a warrior for the Edge.” The glowing light of late dusk halos them both, beckoning night ever closer with starry, velvet fingers.


notes; Sorry for the wait and...kind of awkward post xD
“Speech.”

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
image credits | @Nuray
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.


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