the Rift


[OPEN] Aquatic lessons

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd
#1
Isopia
thought we'd build a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake
[HELLO FRIENDS REPLY AT YOUR LEISURE WE JUST THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE AWESOME. @Rude @Aquila @Zèklè ]

"You were born here." Isopia noted, as she stood staring out at the ocean. The creature she was talking to, Hubris, sat on her withers, also staring out into the vast blue expanses. "Although ... you were ... expelled from a dragon at some point. Is that the date you were born, and the event that occurred here was merely your hatching?" Thought's whirled in the demi-Goddess' mind. How did one track the age of a shelled-creature? "What do you think?" Isopia turned her death-marked skull around to look at Hubris, who merely opened his mouth and then closed it again to indicate ignorance.

Shrugging, Isopia returned her golden stare to the waves.

Something about the vastness of it made her feel at home. The way her hooves disappeared into the sand, gently erased by the magic that flooded her veins, until she looked like a fixture of the earth itself. Which, in a way, she was. Her position on this earth was to provide balance. As she grew, she was in more and more of a position to do just that.

Her red cape billowed outwards from her shoulders, affixed onto a golden pauldron. Another gift from her Father. That wasn't her only new accessory - on her hooves were shoes which prevented harm from befalling the life that scurried or grew under her hooves. It made her feel more centered and secure to know that her movements did not cause arbitrary death. Somehow that seemed fitting; apart from how it pertained to her lineage of course.


Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Aquila Posts: 95
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.2 :: 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Craonos :: Common Narwhal Leviathan :: Boil smitty
#2
the tempest of an unrelenting sea
She rested, bobbing with the currents, above the sandy floor in a mound of camouflaged beige and electric aqua. Gill slits softly flapped open and close in her gorged slumber— she had feasted on the fish here in ‘Helovia.’ There were so many, and they were so healthy. These were not the puny, disease-ridden morsels of the Rift. No, these were succulently plump fish that overflowed from her scaled lips.

A particularly delicious, yellow varietal nibbled dangerously close to her folded forelegs. One overlarge, teal-and-yellow eye pooped open to instantly focus on the fish. In a quick strike and a small plume of murky red, the finned creature was no more.

In fluid, weightless movements she rose and walked along the bottom. Slowly it rose as she approached the shallows, webbed feet digging against the bottom in puffs of sand as she resisted the currents that wished to take her out to sea. But she had spent enough time along the bottom. It was time to discover the Isles while they were free of the Tigress.

A pang of guilt accompanied a flare of fury. Her herd, family, and culture were left behind in the Rift. A snarl curled her lips as she broke the surface of the sea, rising from the waves. The goddess had destroyed her culture. She had been sent to find a way to save them. Yet here she was, safe in the balmy splendor of ‘Helovia.’

But, from what she had seen, there was no going back to the Rift. These gods here had sealed the realm shut with gods blood. She stalked further out of the waves, taking in the shore as she thought these poisonous ideas.

Then, snarl fading, she froze at the sight of a tall winged equine. Winged creatures were predators in Aquila’s world. Especially one such as this: large and marked with a skull of death. Scaled ears tilt backwards as her head lowered, oversized eyes unblinkingly trained on the pegasus.

Helovia had been safer than the Rift, by far. Even with the god battle. But old habits died hard— especially those of survival. The militant mare watched and waited from the waves, assessing the threat of the painted wings and metallic dragon.

ooc| Yay, Iso threads! :D

Please tag Aquila in all posts.


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