the Rift


[OPEN] speck of dust

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
Erebos
There were so many things Erebos didn’t understand: why friends left and reappeared and why they were resentful about the whole thing when they’d been the ones to flee, why the Gods promised no ounce of bloodshed and renounced the oath mere moments later, why tiny girls were murdered for wandering into open lands, why his lungs had cracked and drowned his breaths in anarchy, then felt better instances thereafter…the thoughts trickled and convoluted and spiraled around his youthful mind – and it was hardly the end of the sentiments. They were rapid and fleeting, given no ounce or opportunity of study from one to the next, lacerating and puncturing before traversing in swift, keen speed to more annals and embittered translations. No wisdom granted, no salvation extorted, puzzles jigsawed, frayed, and torn apart. Perhaps the most piercing of all was what he was supposed to be doing: when his glory would reign, how he was supposed to obtain this monstrous power, and in between all the folds, spells, tales, and myths, where did he fit in?
 
He was lost.
 
Not in the way of labyrinths or Perseus’ threads, huddled in the muck and mire of Minotaur vows or persecution, but to the fringes of his purpose. The beast knew what he wanted, but how to go about grasping, clenching, and holding it all was another matter: he’d fought, he’d stabbed deities, he’d struggled to maintain friends, he’d lied about names and nuances, and he’d grinned in the face of damnation and terror. He hadn’t fled. He hadn’t stumbled. He didn’t break across the floor when the world wanted him to shatter, shudder, or shiver. He was strong, he was bold, he was capable. Of what was the strange query cursing his essence.
 
But determining which path to cross, which trail to take, and which alleyway led to the Promised Land was one more tribulation. His father had risen from soldier to General to Lord, and his mother had delved into scholarly wisdom and polished sagacity; and the prince splintered, fractured, from thing to thing, never truly immersing himself fully into either vocation. He enjoyed fighting, and he cherished the art of pretenses. He was riveted to trickery, to deceit, to provocations, and was raptured in the nefarious nature of battles and bloodshed. Much like his magic, a blend of fire, water, and darkness, he was a combination of talents and desires – a jack-of-all-trades, but a master of none.
 
Though unlikely to hold any answers, he roamed across the pristine Steppe, encountering its overwhelming wind and flattened desolation with strength and determination, only lowering his skull briefly as the gales unwound their brawny filaments. Orsino, hissing behind his companion, presented naught of declarations or absolutions either: he preferred wickedness in whatever scope or regime. Together, they were untapped potential and scheming ruthlessness with nowhere to put their nefarious qualities to the test – and as they marched, bitter blue and black against the stark, summer snow, the two beasts left broken patterns of promises, of vengeance, behind. 

[Open to anyone! ^_^] 

I'LL SHOW YOU HOW GOD | FALLS ASLEEP ON THE JOB
Image Credits

Calista Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#2
Her taupe hooves stepped on the ground almost tentatively, as if she was expecting the land to rip apart under her weight. She didn't really think that such a thing would happen. It was just that she did not know where she was wandering and it was important to tread with caution. Calista exhaled, her chest aching with this movement as she continued to walk up the rocky path carefully. What was this place? She could not say for sure, as the land around her was flat and scrubby and it was dotted with strange, macabre rock formations. Perhaps she would be able to ask someone when she returned to the Edge. If she could find her way there. The woman pondered scavenging for herbs, but given the icy climate that surrounded her, she doubted she would have any luck.

She was alone. But she did not want to be alone. Swinging her curved neck around, she searched the horizon, dragging her gaze across the mountainous landscape with inquisitiveness obvious in her blue eyes. The woman's attention became transfixed upon the mountain again, a gentle voice laced upon the wind called for her to explore. The woman's masked face was composed of a solid expression, yielding no emotions as her heed was drawn back into her mind. Frostbitten grass crunched gently beneath her weight as she travelled. Somehow the unicorn felt weary, and yet the day was only just beginning. Exhaling heavily, her breath formed a tiny cloud despite the fact that it was summer. Never had she experienced such anything so unusual. No happiness was to fill her heart, nor smile to grace her gentle features until she found someone to discuss this peculiarity with. There was nothing more that Calista hated than being by herself.

A gust of frigid air swept across the snowy expanse, ruffling the mare's thin smoke-and-pearl coat, bringing with it the scents and sounds from both far and wide to be taken in. It was in the distance that a form grabbed her attention atop a formation of snow-powdered hills she had almost taken as a strange outcrop of it. There was little reason to approach, but little reason to avoid. After several silent heartbeats of deliberation the woman's feet carried her forward with guarded and careful steps until she was able to determine the shape of another horned equine. He appeared distressed. Dewy breath entered her lungs as she opened herself up to this unfamiliar face, like the wings of a dove extending in a luxurious display of purity. Her voice was of the gentle, courteous kind when she dipped her head curtly in greeting and spoke in tones of angelic softness, the comforting melodies of someone who had spent years avoiding conflict, "Greetings. I am Calista of the World's Edge. May I ask your name? You seem troubled." Her body showed no signs of aggression nor affability as she peered at the dark stallion curiously behind crystallized pools. She directed her head up high and held herself in an elegant manner, her alluring gaze watching the unicorn carefully, thoughts lingering behind her ocean eyes. 


@Erebos

(Hello! I'm fairly new here so I hope this is okay.)

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
Erebos
Caught in the flames of naught, the pair marched on, drumming a lethargic, listless beat of scattered purpose and wretched raptures. Two rapiers set alight on the glow of mutiny and dissidence, sullen, silent pariahs, harpooning names and faces in the sand. They could launch darts and throw stones and imagine a Colossus with his painted hide set ablaze, but it would only be delusions, mirages, and chimeras – delusional at best, pathetic at worst. Drawn and quartered and sketched from a line of craft, guile, and power, he’d hoped to achieve the rites of Arwen’s death upon that chamber of battles, chaos, and bedlam, but it hadn’t been meant to be – too much too soon, too little too late. Their only reverence was in the exultation of promised wickedness: that eventually they would dine in the reaches of vehemence and revenge and menace and might. Though incapable of finding which path led them to their desired ruin, they were steady, strong, and stalwart in the face of nothingness, drawing on the lacquer of determination formed along each brow, across fibers and sinew and marrow, driven but not desperate. They only followed the distant, desolate outcrops and the delicate balance of ice, wind, and snow, fighting against the beckoning of summer and the stretch of lazy sunlight, digging into patches and pockets of melting pools and thick slush, branching off of well-worn trails and glancing off into the horizon. The prince half-expected a sign: a foreshadowing, a beckoning, beguiling, bewitching signal and beacon of what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to go, to fulfill the behemoth wishes and the decadent, nefarious longings. All he received for his perusal was a glare of light and Orsino’s answering hiss, grunt, and snort. They’d have to make, sculpt, and carve their own desires from eldritch invocations and revolutionary vigilance; corrosive, dissident, and insurrectionary – there were no tales for him to read where the child who waited and wandered ever found what they were looking for.
 
He thought to branch away from nestled thorns and rampaging winds, settle along the heights of cliffs and moonlight while the sun whittled away, but another crept over the notion and swept it clean under the rug – Orsino, black and barbaric, uttered only one strain: Stranger!, before the newcomer embarked fully into the boy’s senses. His skull shifted, his eyes narrowed, and for a few moments, he merely studied and scrutinized, a silent void on top of his sullen mountain.
 
A mare, older than he, wrapped in ivory and marked by sable, motioned her way and broke amidst his melancholy: she appeared almost delicate, fine, sculpted from china and glass, as if she could be maneuvered into shards or tossed over a cliff. He’d never seen her before, one more foreign entity amidst this great, belligerent, grand world – but since she likely hadn’t murdered any of his companions, he didn’t entreat her with hostility.
 
How to regard or consider her was another matter.
 
He pondered, briefly, if she was going to be like that other mare he’d met amongst the caverns (blistering, lecturing, bristling with all sorts of spines and needles, chiding and scolding until he gave her nothing but a juvenile essence in return).
 
He wondered if he should appear as someone else, lie and lie and lie: if he could be Ignatius, dipped in fire and coal and ash, sparking and behemoth and God-like, a cretin incensed from embers and brimstone. He could be Nepdon, Poseidon’s gentle trident, luring and beguiling from the folds of water and the babble of brooks; an intriguing glimpse of otherworldly ethereality.
 
Or perhaps, he could merely be himself: Erebos, prince of the Basin, scion of revenge and power and prowess and potential and incapable of achieving anything but anger, hostility, and anarchy. The lad dipped his head, slowly, casting shades of scrutiny even amidst the slight movement of his skull, etching and stroking over the words and phrases the mare had framed. “Troubled?” The expression tasted bitter, resentful, and rancorous, an acrid potion across his tongue, and he struggled not to show it. His nose wrinkled vaguely, and the pull of his eyes glanced over her again, embarking on introductions before he could emphasize anything more on her observations. “I’m Erebos, of the Aurora Basin.” A pause, a break, a joining of breaths, and the fox nestled between his forelegs almost begged for nefariousness – the blue youth, with his glowing prowess and his shambled barbs, hid in the fields of isolation. “I’m not troubled,” and here a bloom of mischief carved its way upon his mouth, devilishness with luster and scorn. “I know what I’m going to do – I’m just not sure how to begin.”

 

I'LL SHOW YOU HOW GOD | FALLS ASLEEP ON THE JOB
Image Credits

@Calista

Calista Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#4
Courage is knowing what not to fear

She blinked, her blue orbs widening slightly in a fashion that could almost be called cute, had it not been from a unicorn of such grace. There was but a moment in time in which the damsel did not conduct herself in a debonair manner. Her expression brightened as the onyx prince turned to her. Calista had been worried he might run off and not be bothered to make conversation. Quickly the miniscule amount of uncertainty vanished from her head and she responded with vigor and vim oozing from her vocals."I do hate being alone. I am glad of your company, Erebos of the Aurora Basin, and of course it is nice to meet you, sir! It's satisfying to my ears to hear that you are well." Uknowingly Calista's scholarly side came out as she started to offer her best words of wisdom to Erebos. Not in an imposing or forceful way, but just musing about the nature of his debacle. She was fond of scholarly discussions. Although she was neither elderly nor experienced, Calista thought she had seen enough of the world to know a thing or two about life. Thus, it was no surprise that she launched into solving the puzzle this man presented her with. Calista could not help herself. Any chance the snow-laden lady got to be of service to another, she grasped with utmost enthusiasm. Nothing was every expected in return for these services. As much as she pleasured herself with doing everyone a good turn, her positivity could be frowned upon. Calista could not comprehend why one would not want a friend by their side. Who in the right of mind would rather mull about in their own misery like a pig wallowing in the mud? How outrageous!

Some were not so thrilled with the Moon Doctor taking such interest in their lives and problems. She always felt deadful when she was told off for her presumptuousness. One of her greatest flaws was precisely this. The woman cared too deeply about what others thought of her. The hurt caused by such rejection made Calista disgusted with herself, and tended to linger for days on end. Her mistakes were always slow to dissapear or die. For the most part, however, Calista was successful at enthralling those she met with her charms of sanguine"Knowing something and actually doing it are two separate matters. There is a long distance between them. Knowing what to do is a start. Many of us, myself included, often lack a plan. What is preventing you from executing,my friend? But please don't answer if my question is too bold or too trying for your liking." That said, she was clearly not telling Erebos to inform her of private matters, just reasurring him that she was willing to listen and offer what advice she had.



"Talk?"


image credits


@Erebos

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
Erebos
The colt hadn’t expected pleasantness – he reserved that for deeper acquaintances, kin, spirits united since birth or a shared calamity, a vivid distinction – but the mare spared no time in responding with helpful tones and reassuring interest. She was friendly, obliging, and courteous, so unlike the mare from the Caverns, so Erebos found himself comforted, listening to her insistence, to her scholarly traits, absorbing their whims and vigor like a sponge, like the child he’d once been, basking in the glow of knowledge and sagacity, listening to his mother’s tales or Zikar-Sin’s eerie diatribes. The mischief, the demonic traces, the notion of devilish scorn died on his lips, on his thoughts, and even though Orsino likely rolled his eyes at the demise of nefariousness, the boy paid him no heed. Instead, he twisted his harks and turned his ears and watched her in a steady, quiet rapture, churning over the words, the echoes, the throngs of her prudence. "Thank you for your guidance." He found himself whittling along the transcription, almost invoking the tale of all his transgressions, but ceased with blurting out the truth of his pursuits. She didn’t seem like a creature of revenge. She didn’t appear to harbor ill will. She didn’t seem drenched in enmity or rancor. She was innocent, and didn’t deserve to be dragged along contempt, loathing, and revulsion. He wouldn’t lead her down a bludgeoned, burdened road; he’d steer her away while he snagged at brambles and thorns and tore at his heartless ambitions. So the lad tread carefully, wove truth through hazy, vague, mysterious woes, anointing his mouth with more of an affable quality; as though he were one more foolish youth embarking into the strange, soulless factions of the world, and she was another elder showing him the way. “I don’t have enough power or achievements.” He paused, uncertain, glancing towards the boundaries, down the desolate chambers of ice and barren wastelands, imagining the spot where Arwen had fallen, where she’d been desecrated, then buried beneath the snow. “I need to be stronger to avenge a friend – but the foe is mighty and massive.” He thought of the Sun God and how he’d need more than just brawn, more than just durability, more than just fierce, brute strength and the desire to annihilate – but what more was there to gain? What else could he grasp to ensure his success? He knew of the girls who’d sought the same Colossus’ fall, but would anything become of them? What did they hope to achieve? What did they aspire to? He had too many questions and not enough answers, no awakening path guiding him, no sturdy trail granting absolutions. The beast was at a loss, torn between flickering hatred and irreverent enterprises, searching for a sign, a beam, a sword – anything to achieve his means. His eyes were riveted back to her, Calista of the World’s Edge, and any of the provisions she could bestow (and would she dare – he wondered, pondered – to light the way for a passage of vengeance?). I don’t know what to do, he puttered through his skull, ignoring Orsino’s obliging sibilance.

 

I'LL SHOW YOU HOW GOD | FALLS ASLEEP ON THE JOB
Image Credits

@Calista


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture