now hear the dark gun punching out
that I may love you
Pale, gossamer feathers were laden in frost, crystals of frozen dew clinging like tiny comfits to nearly every capillary fiber of the phantasm's wings. The last remaining semblances of her glossy summer coat had finally exuviated from her pale figure, exchanged with a thicker, duller mantle of ashen gray, void of the dapples which once bloomed profusely along the maiden's body. Plum eyes remained ever vigilant, gazing out across a vast expanse of murky waters, unheeding to the lifeless vessels which lay just below the surface.
This land reeked of death, of an unsettling coldness. It was a charade of danger, feigning harmlessness and beauty. A film of ivory flakes careened slowly down from the giant, looming sifters in the sky, bringing about an essence of calm. Valhalla stood mostly still, nostrils flexing and ushering forth an intumescent plume of smoke with each exhalation, frost catching on the moisture of her breath.
Frostfall had come quickly this year, she thought idly, briefly dipping a charcoal hoof into the frigid waters. She lowered her muzzle to the pristine fluid, her reflection manifesting bleakly across the surface. Ripples propagated as she snorted, and morbidly she wondered what might happen were she to suffer a fall into the icy depths. Strange fish weaved there way through beds of monotone foliage, their scales glittering vaguely in the dilute winter sunlight.
But there was something else among them, something hidden deeper down. She squinted her eyes, focusing on the figure, when it soon became clear it was the skull of a moldering body, it's eyes turned a milky white, bones poking out from the skin. Horror struck her almost instantly, lavender optics opened wide with shock. Muscles tensed beneath her flesh, and she jolted quickly backward, as if the deceased's empty eyes had transmitted a signal of palpable fear.
In her shock, she had made a fatal error. Her hooves lost purchase upon the muddy earth, causing her to plummet into the glacial waters. She cried out, frantic, struggling to swim among the stray leafage.
She wasn't ready to die. Shards of cold became diffused through her nerves, causing her breathing to grow shallow, frenzied. Was this to be her fate? -to perish by the sheer mercilessness of cold, spectated by the moldering dead? This hardly felt real. It felt like a dream, a horrific rendition of her mind but the pain she felt, the urgency that overcame her, was far too real, far too tangible.
Oh Valhalla. What had you gotten yourself into.
valhalla
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.3 :: 8 |
| Epona |
L E A N D E R
A gold form moved through the snowy wetland. A sad looking land, with all it's vegetation bare and rotting. Bronze orbs took it in, filled with their own sorrow. The battle had left his body sore and wounded, but Faelene's pull on his heart left his emotions a frayed mess. Fate seemed only to want to make his life harder. Sickly rays of sun found his marred pelt, it's blonde hairs gleaming so much less in their touch. He longed for some sign of what to do. He had fought valiantly and earned honor in the battle, but it was not enough. Nothing was enough when the one you loved would not love you.
A cry rang out through the dead expanse, feminine and distressed. He wanted to ignore the call, but something was certainly wrong in the voice. Feathered limbs threw his heavy frame into a lope parallel to the water's edge. Snow dusts flew off his massive wings and back to form a cloud behind him. The muddied ground was slick, and even with his sturdy footwork, Leander had to be careful. Soon, he caught the owner of the sound. A girl, winged as he, flailing in the water. Adrenaline gripped his chest, and he brought himself to a precarious halt on the bank. "Hold on!" He yelled to the mare, looking for the best way to get her out without getting himself into the same predicament. Stretching out mahogany feathers, he rose steadily above the ground and went to the girl's aid. "Grab on to me, I'll pull you out!" The stallions words were more shaken now. His wings strained to keep him hovering above the silver doe, and his body protested painfully. Still, he stretched his neck out, hoping she could get a grip on some part of him, even if she had to bite hard. Maybe jumping to the rescue for some stranger wasn't the best of ideas, but it wasn't as though he'd had much to live for anyways. In that moment, he wondered if Faelene would care if he simply disappeared.
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now hear the dark gun punching out
that I may love you
She heard his voice - it rang out like a mocking symphony, pleading for her to 'hold on,' cling to her fleeting mortality like the pathetic creature that she was. She needn't bother to search for the orchestrator to know it had been the voice of a stallion, masculine and husky. She was far too absorbed in her current dilemma to pay it much heed anyway, and she had come to doubt its existence, oddly enough. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her, daunting her with false apprehension.
Large wings flailed uselessly in the water at her sides, the entirety of her body burning with frigidity. Pale feathers floated in the water as she struggled to find the ground in which she had previously been standing; to find purchase among the narrow path, and yet she could not locate where it had been. Eyes of dulcet lavender evidenced the true extent of her urgency as she looked up toward Leander.
Did he really think he could hold her weight? She highly doubted it, though at that moment, she had no room to scrutinize.
Where did he expect her to clench onto him? Surely the sensitive flesh of his muzzle would induce pain should she use that as leverage. He then outstretched his mahogany wing toward her, and he grasped the dorsal part of his wing firmly between her ivory teeth. Simultaneously, as if by some miracle, she had managed to find the path in which she had traveled, a solid foundation hidden by a barrage of moss and ivy. He pulled away then, vertically, aiding her in escaping the icy prison.
Unrefined relief surmounted within her, a paramount emotion, unspoiled and unrivaled by anything else at that moment. She clung to the ground, her aft leg as well as her tail remaining partially suspended within the gelid depths, though she paid little attention to these things. Smoke billowed from her nostrils in swift recession, beads of water dripping from her nose as she began to cough, ridding the water which had intruded the recesses of her lungs. Drenched forelock laid disheveled across her face, partially veiling one of her eyes.
How pathetic she must look.
valhalla
[ ooc ; I think there may have been a bit of power play in there. If you want me to change it, just let me know. ]
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.3 :: 8 |
| Epona |
L E A N D E R
A brief flash of violet eyes met him as he worked to keep upright. There was little time to think of the strangeness of their hue, not when the girl was on the verge of either drowning or freezing to death. Akwardly, it seemed, she grabbed on to the soft velvet of his sooty maw, an odd place to hold. The dull pinch of the grip made him lose a small grunt, but he attempted to pull the dame out non the less. For a moment, he thought this poorly planned strategy wouldn't work, but the Gods must have been with them, for the mare reached some footing and was able to scramble out of the icy depths. Leander's clumsy body fell backwards as the hold on his snout released, golden haunches landing hard in the cold mud.
Some seconds passed, hot air billowing from his nostrils and coughs coming from the lady. Finally, the tawny stallion pulled himself back to his feet. What a mess he was, with dried battle wounds all over and now mud plastering his hind end. Wearily, his gilded orbs moved to the soaked mare. The slender dappled grey was easy on the eyes, for sure, and probably even more so when she was clean and dry. For now, she was drenched and appeared quite shaken. It was a wonder she'd survived. But the cold of Frostfall could easily drain the life from a wet body. "You need to get warm, Miss, or you'll freeze." Concerned tones met the air. Careful not to let himself wind up in the water, he stepped over to her side, aiming to aid her farther up on to drier land. He pressed his own side gently against hers, giving what warmth and stability he could. "My name is Leander." One massive wing slid over her back as he spoke. Hopefully the dry plumage would be a decent buffer from the cold.
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[ooc: No need to change anything ^^]
big horse, big heart
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Why had Yol come to explore such a disgusting, filthy, and scary place? He shivered, beating his dark wings nervously, circling lower to the frosted ground. Snow kissed the trails, wrapping ice fingers around the delicate grasses, plucking leaves from the barren, dead trees. It was a desolate, lifeless place full of... well, death. Another sharp bank pulled Yol towards one of the larger paths, where the yearling alighted with ease. Landing had always been the easiest part for his great bulk. Take-off was another matter.
The grasses crunched beneath hooves, and the dark gray dapple wove through the trails, relaxed and mostly remaining oblivious to anything. To the pale faces of the dead in the pond. To Leander and Valhalla flapping around.
It wasn't till he had nearly stepped on them that his minds had been jerked back into the present. "What-" Yol's voice died as his eyes made quick work of the scene. "I'm a medic." He lowered his head, sniffing the mare. No need to heal her- some warmth would do, and if they were to help her not freeze, all would be well. "You'll be alright. Just need to keep you warm." The stallion glanced at the stallion. He smelled strongly of the Dragon's Throat, so the yearling instantly relaxed. The stallion extended a dark gray wing, and wrapped it firmly around the mare's body, his huge flank nearly brushing hers.
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