the Rift


[OPEN] nostalgia never felt so good

Azulee Posts: 62
Dragon's Throat Warrior atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2 hands :: 6 years :: Orangemoon HP: 65.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Valda
#1




The storm-maiden curls her cloven toes into the sunkissed sand with wistful affection, as though getting familiar with an old friend. Bowerbird eyes sweep the horizon, glimmering softly in the honeydew light of a dying sun with a wayward spark of emotion - a momentary flicker of bittersweet sentiment too fleet to name. Mournfully, the wind caresses her boyish curves, lamenting the return of the electric daughter in the absence of her loved ones. She shivers as hot air bristles through feathers bared to its embrace; comforting, and familiar. From plump lips comes a muffled  sigh; home, she feels compelled to proclaim, yet she is a stranger to this land of sand and sun and fire - a refugee in her own country.

Melancholy, nostalgia, overcome her, charging through her nerves like bolts of static emanating from the tips of unfurled wings, magnificent as they bask in the cool overcast of a setting sun. Beads of sweat dimple her forehead and froth in the crooks and hollows of her haunches and bosom and she is reminded of simpler days a handful of tallsun's ago. For a moment, the butterfly strokes of Cassiopeia's wings, cooling her skin, are as present as they were in her youth; the deep baritone of her father's laughter resonating in her bones. And yet, their absence was deafening. She sits in quiet remission from the struggles of the present and surrenders to peaceful reminiscence, standing along the shore of the great Throat lake.

i've got your wild-eyed ways.

http://lunarblues.deviantart.com/art/I-V...-329973819">credits
 
hard mode—HP: 65/65

physical force and magic is permitted to be used on Azulee at any time provided it does not involve powerplay (unless specified otherwise); please contact me before attempting to kill.
please tag me!

Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit
#2



Hot, arid wind caressed the pale tendrils upon the Prince's crest, tickling them gently across his skin and offering a brief respite from the heat he had lived in the entirety of his life. His rank did not ask him to patrol as often as the warriors of the sand, his duties restricted to merely patrolling in the wilds when he was called upon for each season. Cera had always taken it upon himself to do them nonetheless, if only to excuse the warriors from the tail end of their duties. He understood their desires for time alone, relaxation, but he always hoped they would find their loved ones with the spare time he had afforded them. They are not Midas, Ilaria reminded him softly. Cera sighed softly, aware of the fact that she was right, but it never stopped him from patrolling anyways. As if he had anywhere else to be, anything else to be doing.

Emerald eyes caught the dark form on the shore easily, for it stood out like a blemish upon the pale cream and clay red of the earth beneath it. Frowning softly to himself, Cera dipped his right wing towards the crystal waters below, drifting closer to the farther shore where the land bridge had once existed. The closer he came the more he squinted down upon the solitary figure, dipping the bridges of his wings and allowing the wind to slice over them, dropping his altitude as he fell from the sky to approach the patient newcomer. Wings buffeted against the sands as he hovered where he was, slowing his descent, sand and surf shifting beneath the power of his overgrown wings as his hooves touched down in the shallows of the water. 

She seemed so familiar...though even Ilaria could not properly place the child. Still...Cera recognized the lightning striking permanently upon her skin, and wondered if she was a lost and forgotten child of the Throat. 

"I am Cera, Golden Prince of the Dragon's Throat. What is it you seek?" Ilaria preened ridiculously upon his shoulderblades, for Cera rarely if ever spoke the title he'd been given as an adolescent by those around him. Though he did not fully understand it himself, he still felt pride and honor regarding the name that preceded him. He would use it here, if only to satisfy whatever budding curiosity may be arising in the woman's head. 


A hero's worth is measured by his heart
I am Ceraaaa
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!

smitty the swift Posts: 22
Administrator
Mare :: Other :: 1 :: 1
#3
unarchived per request

Azulee Posts: 62
Dragon's Throat Warrior atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2 hands :: 6 years :: Orangemoon HP: 65.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Valda
#4



It is usual that a moment of solitude should not last long in Helovia.

Azulee cranes her head upward to watch as the stallion makes his descent, ears swiveling. She chuffs brusquely as the stallion alights before her, a cloud of sand rising all about him. The woman is unsure how to receive his company; any enthusiasm would feel much too artificial, and so she keeps a stony facade, regarding him cooly as he presents himself. His golden coat most certainly matches the motif of the tideless golden sea that swallows the horizon in all directions. The creature on his shoulders, however, would appear to be terribly out of place. The lightning child peels her eyes in examination, unsure of what manner of creature this is. White-rimmed ear perk forward, hearken to his voice as voltaic eyes shift to meet his gaze.

What is it you seek?

Hm. The woman is troubled by this. Azulee has not come in search of anything. The only true calling she has ever found was in beating someone to a pulp. When she was new to the trials of courage and adventure, drifting from one land to the next had once been enough, but not now. Perhaps she has come in search of purpose, to the only "home" she has ever known, but even the place of her birth feels foreign now. Azulee is uncertain if her family holds any sort of presence here. Her father had died long ago, her mother had abandoned her, and her sister had been perpetually absent from her life for some time now. Suddenly, she finds herself surrounded by ghosts - the ghosts of Cassiopeia, of Azzuen, of Cirrus and Midas and Kri. She casts them away with a swat of her tail, as though it might scatter them to the still air. 

The woman decides she seeks answers. "Who rules here?"

i've got your wild-eyed ways.

http://lunarblues.deviantart.com/art/I-V...-329973819">credits
 
hard mode—HP: 65/65

physical force and magic is permitted to be used on Azulee at any time provided it does not involve powerplay (unless specified otherwise); please contact me before attempting to kill.
please tag me!


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