Armed and Caged

[PRIVATE] Armed and Caged

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598

Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE

Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk

12-11-2015, 03:12 PM (This post was last modified: 12-11-2015, 03:12 PM by Thranduil. Edit Reason: MY LIFE FOR TAGS )

Thranduil

A cold wind blew sharply in through the valley of the Basin, shivering the pines as it passed through their needles and rattling the stones upon the mountainside. An ill taste upon its bitter edge foretold of its beginnings up from the north, and the hell it would descend upon this land soon enough. For eons the land had felt its warning and weathered its threats made real, but it nourished those within this vale, protecting them. Now though, to him, they seemed to be the ones sending the sharp blades of cold digging into his flesh. With pinned ears, leveled head, and a quick, hot step the crowned golden lord of the north slid through the cracks of the Basin’s walls. A storm brewing in the shadows, and barely contained under the surface.

In stark contrast, a dark stag moves through the light. His usual easy gait a bit more jaunted and tense. Haldir would glance to the dark rocks now and then to see a flash of gold, but it did not ease his tension. How many days had it been building like this again? The dark deer snorted, and took a moments rest to paw a few last living sprigs of grass. His mind flips through scenes. The day of the herd meeting, and the storm in the cave. The return from battles, and their being more tense their leaving. The hours pacing the rock walls, and looking out. The long and tireless nights, where when the deer woke, the gold still stood unrested. At first the stag had not seen much change. But like a festering wound it was growing worse. Each passing day spent in these walls built a massive weight upon the golden’s chest, and it translated to his bonded. So as the stag moves off to keep up with the gold, it was with tense steps.

When the gold had come to healer’s cave he rose sharply up a small path, no more than a deer trail. The dark stag had drifted to it as well, and following along at a distance he rose up the side of mountain with the storming gold. Today it was much worse than before though, so the stag stayed wary of getting to close. He bore a bruise on his hip where he had been knocked aside on the night before for getting in the way. It was always building and building until they slipped off randomly through the Arch. Then the gold would sleep. He would eat. And he was himself again. But the Basin would always call him back, something that needed doing here or there, or just the task of prowling around its boundaries like the wolf he was. Then it would grow again. And each time it bloomed worse, darker, and more dangerous.

The gold slipped in the cave first and from outside the dark stag heard the slinging off of the wolf clock and satchel. What should have been slamming hooves on rock was silent as always, but the deer could see it. He could feel the tremors in his own legs of the vibrating stone. Slowly he came to the entrance, and peered his large pale eyes into the dark corners. The crowned lord stood towards the back pacing as usual.

It felt so close, so heavy. Gods why couldn’t he move around in here. His lungs filled with stale air, like a slow suffocation. Snorting and tossing his head the crowned golden paces, but every step causes his limbs to burn all the more for more. To buck it off, to kick it out. Anything. Earth eyes flash to the opening of the cavern, wild with thought. He could go, and leave. A short rough sharp call broke the thought. He had been gone a week only days before. He couldn’t go. He was trapped here. He had to- A cloven hoof kicks an item, and he jerks and shouts with irritation at the interruption. It sidled across the floor clambering mutedly. Harks pin sharply back and eyes narrow roughly. What was this item? He did not remember it.

In the dim light short brushed black and white fur trimmed, and sharp teeth glinting. The hairs upon his back bristle, and prick. This thing he remembered well. This thing was a stolen piece. A prized piece. Taken by order of the Lady. That was all it took. A roar like a hurricane filled the cavern and blasted from its mouth. Haldir at the entrance slunk back, head and ears low. He did not know whether to be glad or wantsome for the Lady Hotaru to be here to still him as before. It was all a mess, all to ruin lady The gold made little sense, but the reasoning behind it had no purpose. It didn’t matter if he had wanted it as his own. It didn’t matter if he had joyfully kept it all these years. None of that matters in madness. All that mattered was he had been told to seek it, by orders. And now he would see to it that the looming mountains and biting winds felt him rumble and quake, and know that this monster would no longer be easily caged.

OOC ::
"Speech"

The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.
Down came the rain
and washed the spider out.

Image credit.

@Ashamin

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Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426

Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB

Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen

12-12-2015, 02:51 PM

THE HARUSPEX
on his own

Sleep, Lochan, sleep. Those were the words the haruspex called into his cave as he left it. Then he brought himself from shadow into pale grey light and blinked away the sleep. Then he entered a scene that he was not prepared for: the Aurora Basin.

At this time of day, awash in such mist, it was nothing but a cold stretch of grey. Orangemoon turned life into lifelessness; Tallsun's brief glory was over. Ashamin's hooves made marks in soft snow that had fallen that morning and carried himself with a heavy heart. There was too much on his mind--his spars, those won and lost, his visit with the Goddess of the Moon--for him to walk with the renewed energy others might have. But today, too, was a grey day. Today lent itself, in the bucks' mind, to quiet introspection.

But others were not so quiet. Though the Laurelin's steps may have had no voice, his own clamorous call was stark against the Basin's eerie quiet. Ashamin was not terribly close, but close enough to hear the outburst and set off at the moment he did. Hooves pounded against earth, kicking snow behind them and creating a trail of dusty white in his wake.

Ashamin felt far away. As the cracks in the mountain became holes, as those holes became caves, and as those caves started to fill with faint silhouettes, he felt distant. Ashamin let the heartbeats of the herd's members fill his chest and reverberate. He collected them like stones, every step past another bearing him down until it became difficult to even hear his own heart beating. They drew him closer to being a part of something, but pushed him farther from himself.

In the end, he felt nothing like a vessel. This was what he was becoming, he realized with a shock. His eyes widened, he slowed and stopped where he ran. The cave from which the call had come was close to him but far from the others. The heartbeats of the basin faded and left him alone with his own and one other.

He was nothing but an empty shell into which this herd poured its grievances. This was something he had never prepared for but always allowed himself to be: empty, unable to find himself.

That other single heartbeat became insistent--a caught beating that drew him with confident curiousity to the offending cave. It was quicker and lighter than his own, much closer to Lochan's, but not one he'd heard before. It was maybe anticipatory? Ashamin wasn't sure. But there was an irregularity there like fear, like unknowing. And when he stepped closer to the cave, saw Haldir at its lip and the golden pacing within, he understood why?

Trinkets and great treasures were scattered across the shadow. Darkness loomed within, oppressive. But Ashamin's dark eyes were wide and awake in such gloom. Slowly, he became aware.

He did not wait to be invited in, nor did he announce his presence. He walked past Haldir, bending his features to perhaps brush his nose across the deer's dark spine, and straight into the cavern. Thranduil the Laurelin was alone and upset. Thranduil had removed his mask, and now Ashamin could see his twisted face. How ugly his lord looked, like this.

"Thranduil," Ashamin said--the light at his back and his body an unforgiving black shadow. He did not address the lord with pleasantries, he did not bow in pitiful and perhaps undeserved respect. "Be calm, my friend. Whatever troubles you, forget its pain." The advice rang hollow. The painted one was nothing but a machine, dispensing platitudes and helping others conquer over what he himself had not. Ashamin still wanted to die. He still believed he had lost the loves in life that were most important to him, believed they were irretrievable and irreplaceable. He had his own problems, his own need for advice. Maybe his hollow words rang true for others, they'd helped Mortuus and Rexanna and more, but they were nothing but ashes to his own sorrow.

And as for Thranduil... the buck didn't know. Were they even friends? Ashamin looked over the golden deceiver who hid out in the dark, avoiding responsiblity and Ashamin's touch. How many times had the haruspex tried to reach out to the Laurelin, only to find empty air? No, Thranduil did not deserve pleasantries today. And besides, could an empty vessel even dispense them? Were they even there to begin with, or could he only offer advice that were nothing more than turned words given to him by the helpless?

""

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See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598

Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE

Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk

12-12-2015, 05:19 PM

Thranduil

It was just as before. Just as terrible, nasty, and vicious. The dark stag who stood at the entrance to the cave slunk back at the roar within. In his breast he felt the roar of his bonded echo. It filled his blood with a fire, and set his nerves on edge, but he couldn’t be called to answer those like the gold. Instead he feared these. No, more than that, he hated these feelings. They became tainters, manipulators, and contortionists of the golden’s mind. They would bend and press against him until he became this ugly monster, crushing all before it. Haldir hated that thing, but he also loved it dearly. With each outburst of anger his heart strings pulled to match the golden’s own. It was a false rage, it had roots, and reasons. Ever since the night upon the Steppe when he had at last understood, the deer could connect the dots. He understood why it was so terrible to let others in. To get close. To have a home. And he grieved that that was the only thing the golden could see.

Hooves clicked on rocks and crunched on the snow, causing the dark stag flinched at the cave’s entrance, but turned round. A two toned figure rose up and instantly the dark stag’s gut knotted and sank. What was he doing here so high above the vale? But the faithful Haruspex’s decisive steps answered that question.

Oh no, no… The dark deer moved forward in front of the cave. His body wide and puffed, but his eyes gave him away, trembling. Hotaru was strong. Though the deer had feared for her when she came upon the gold in such a state, she had more than held her own. But this? Ashamin? Haldir knew him only as a gentle heart, and from the golden’s own thoughts to be foolishly bold. How could such a creature withstand the storm inside the cave? To what purpose? A flash of anger from the golden infected the deer, and birthed the thought, why did other insist on interfering? Why couldn’t they leave the gold and Haldir alone?! The Laurelin would spend himself, hopefully without much scraps and it would be done. He would crash to the rock floor in exhaustion and waste away. Not that the deer didn’t regret these times, but it left none others hurt, and the golden cleansed of it all for a while. Horror flashes about him as he remember Hotaru stepping in. No, Ashamin could not do this.

But as the Haruspex steps onward the resolution of the deer falters. His head falls slightly, and he doesn’t move to block the path further. Instead his head drops, and what had meant to be a bark of denial, turned into a soft pleading whimper. The only answer he got was the hot breath of sweet stallion upon his back. Rubbing along it as he stepped him. The still thin hair upon the deer’s back (left from the burn of one of the God battles) is brushed down, and only knowing comforting touches rarely, the deer finds himself leaning into it and relaxing. The dark deer sighs low, but the pressure from his bond with the gold infects him quickly again so that when he turns to watch it’s with fearful eyes once more.

Inside the cave, within the shadows he stood. The crowned golden draped in tension was already beginning to stain dark with sweat. His sides rise and fall raspingly and each little dust or breath of air caused his coat to flinch. The armor lay against the wall where he had kicked it, and he stands still glaring at it, planning how to tear it to shreds. He never got any further. Hooves click on the rock floor, and the golden’s body jerks awake. His harks pin back into his scattered white locks. He sure Haldir was coming in, going to try and stop him again like the other night, and he had had enough of that foolish streak in the deer.

But it wasn’t Haldir. The gold stops, and antlered head rises, though his ears stay pinned even as the shadow speaks his name. “Ashamin.” The name falls out in a dead pan tone, but laced with a subtle hostility. Hinds spin around so he faces the coming silhouette, but his mood sours as he does so. What is this creature doing here? Who does he think he is to walk within any cave he wishes? You see unlike the scene of his last cave visitor the golden was more awake this time, more focused, and the storm pounding and drumming inside him is sharper.

Teeth grind, and tassled tail lashes. Legs, still burning for release lift at random and clang silently on the floor in unrest. The faithful speaks, but harks do not rise to listen. He knows what the ever calm, ever loyal Haruspex shall say. To take it easy. To settle down. Of course that is what this dutiful thing would say. Every movement he made bowed to the mountains. Every act was for the better of all. Every care was self less, and full of heart. Good Gods! He couldn’t stand it. All this creature was nothing more than the armor upon the floor, nothing more than an order. A life bending to orders, and to see him, to be near him built the pressure within so that the gold quite forgot that Ashamin’s heart was so fragile and his spirit so easily dimmed. Forgot to hold back. Forgot he sort of liked the faithful.

So the venom left the planned destruction of the armor and turned its ugly head upon the gentle hearted Haruspex. “Who are you to say such?!” It spit from the depths of a dark heart, heated and meaning to sting. “I know you. You are nothing more than a faithful. A leashed dog.” Was it really Ashamin who was feeling the collar tighten? It was getting so twisted in the golden’s mind. Facts becoming so contorted and stretched. Where the gold fought his own collar, he blamed the painted one for always bearing his. “A collared dog who bows to every pull and ever rolls over for others. You are weak.” He was going too far. Going past a sane mind. But he could not be stopped. Ashamin had become in his mind everything the golden rallied against. Every responsibility. Every command. The eyes of the mountains, and the jailor of his cage. Heart pounds like a cornered animal, but his smile curls cruelly and viciously without mercy. “Pathetic and disgustingly weak.” He steps forward, head lowering in threat, and letting the words fall slow and sink in their weight.

From outside Haldir still watches. In his heart he can feel the twisting wrenching torture. His ears fall back to feel the tide turn against the painted Haruspex. To see how the gold pulled all his pain and placed it undeservingly upon the head of the other. It burned inside of him, rotting his flesh. This was not right, he could not do this to dear one. One who had always been so kind. Always seen the good side of the golden unlike others. So as the gold begins to spit his venom the deer stomps and snorts outside. He could not stand it! How could his bonded do such things! Where he was going too far the deer could not stand it.

The dark stag knew the unicorn was more than capable of standing up for himself. Ashamin could surely lash out as well or see past the golden’s mood, but what was said should not have been. And the righteous heart of the stag, feeling the pull of friendship could not stand idly by to hear it spoken again him. Pale eyes look into the cave, and with determined steps the deer walks in. His bruised hip aches like a reminder, but he did not care of punishment. The dark stag would no longer stand idly by, pain or not. Yet his heart hesitates as he sets eyes on the gold from around the other. Where outside there is nothing but a cruel and vicious monster, the deer sees within his bonded the cornered child. He stops beside the Haruspex, unsure. While he could no longer stand for such a temper, he was called by the love of his bonded to retreat. To obey. To be loyal. Torn in his mind he stops hesitantly by the painted’s side.

OOC ::
"Speech"

The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout.
Down came the rain
and washed the spider out.

Image credit.

@Ashamin

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Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426

Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB

Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen

12-12-2015, 06:06 PM

THE HARUSPEX
on his own

Watching the show of his lord throwing a tantrum was new but not unexpected. As the dark deer at the gate had thought, a storm had been brewing. The golden now was just releasing that potential energy, spitting it up as rage and impatient lashings. Ashamin was patient. Too empty for rage himself, and just empty enough to receive Thranduil's without breaking. For now, there was still room in the haruspex's heart for this anger.

Perhaps he was sick of it, perhaps he was nothing more than a dog, but he would take the abuse for now. He would take it until it was strong enough within him to become something else and fuel his own anger. But he was not yet full, not ready for his own retaliation.

He watched with unreadable eyes as Thranduil's sweat-soaked sides heaved. The cold air that they breathed turned to faint mists, stirred only by the errant and eerily silent kicks that the lord lashed out with. What kind of a body could produce such anger with no trace? What kind of a mind thought so coldly, and what kind of heart could care so little for another?

Ashamin took each remark in silence. Was it true that he was just a leashed creature, a caged animal with no freedom? Was it a cage he had chosen or fallen into, like some sort of hunter's well hidden trap?

You are weak... pathetically and disgustingly weak.

Ashamin frowned--his features twisted in a hollow mess, an ugly mask made to match the laurelin's. But the transgression was temporary--faded after naught more than a quick moment. He had let down his guard, let the pain of such an accusation in. But logically he could think it through and know it was not true. Thranduil was wrong. He was strong. He had scars and trophies to prove his prowess. He had defeated the son of the reaper, perhaps in some way an heir to the Basin's lofty throne.

He did not deserve to stand here and be called weak. And as if to let him know this was so the laurelin's own companion came to stand at his side, something that Ashamin read as clear and unwavering support. He wanted to bite at the lord then. How do you feel now, Thranduil, when your own companion leaves you for one with a gentler heart? The thought came to him more bitterly than he was used to, but he could stand his own buildup. Slowly, slowly....

But not yet. He did not give in to the laurelin's taunting, did not lower himself to that level. If only Thranduil would listen to him, he would know that Ashamin was right. Relaxing may not have done anything for Ashamin's troubles, but surely taking a moment to step back would help the lord at least find the source of his hate for obedience, his anger towards the innocent haruspex.

Slowly, carefully, Ashamin reached for the lord's heartbeat. Perhaps Thranduil would not even know he was being heard, most did not. Ashamin did not close his eyes, gave no semblance of concentrating to listen to something deeper, he just did. The sound and the fury and the rhythm came to him then like a low and cursed dirge. Surely it was hatred in those electric pulses, fire that burned the lord and cast his heart to this beat. The longer that Ashamin listened the harder it became for him to fight the impulsive influence of rage himself--the more the vessel filled.

But just when it was about to overtake him, just when Ashamin might have lost control, he felt something. It was a twisting, a sudden ability to shape and send the pulses when before they could only be felt. The laurelin's heart suddenly became like clay, warmed by the haruspex's caress and something that somehow, deep in the root of his magic, he knew how to mold. Softly, tentatively at first, the haruspex inserted his magic into the substance. With an electric touch, with no outwards appearance of change, he fixed his mind upon the beat and stretched it long and thin--repatterned the waves to a low amplitude, the frequency to a pounded out, slower snake. Then he coiled the electricity of it all, creating in his lord a snaked vessel. An open heart, slowed and calmed by a magic that no one in the cave would quite fully understand.

"I am not your dog," Ashamin said slowly, patiently. He realized when he spoke how dry his mouth had become, how anxious he felt. A nervous excitement buzzed through him. New magic, new power, all at his disposal. Perhaps the Laurelin wouldn't even know it was Ashamin's doing. "I am not on any leash. What you perceive as weakness is what I have harnessed and made strength," came his voice in a steady, meditative way. Everything was cool now, everything contained. "to perceive me as otherwise is your own shortcoming. You should not underestimate me, Thranduil." He paused, contemplative, and let the air hang between them as if the words were a delicate thread spun across the cave. The words, of course, were in their own way a threat of the kindest regard. Ashamin could hold his own--and he would hold down his lord, too, if he had to. "I am not who I was when you met me."

Gods, how true that was! To say it aloud filled him with something like joy, something that was certainly confidence. He glanced at Haldir out of the corner of his eye, hoping that the cerndyr would not interfere, before stepping forward and in front of the companion. Should Thranduil still wish to strike out with a calmed heart, Ashamin would not let Haldir be in the path of harm.

""

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See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead

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Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598

Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE

Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk

12-15-2015, 02:47 PM

Like a hungry snake, those earth eyes wait to watch the fall of the victim of its fangs and their venom. To see the flare of anger, the fall of chest, or the shift of a body made uncomfortable. That is what he wants to see, that is what he expects to see. Submission to the truth in this collared creature. For in some twisted way, that would release the golden. Yes, to see another accept it, bend to it, that would place this fighting, railing golden away from them. It would say, here is one who gives in, and one who does not, see the power and strength on the back of the one who does not give in. It would give him what he craved, what he longed for. A sense of separation from all of it. A sense of release and power. For in these mountains all around him was his. He held power here, and his possessiveness claimed all it saw. Yet that is exactly what builds his anger. They were his, so he must protect them. This was his land, his herd, and no one else (ignoring the other leaders for the moment) could touch them. Like a snarling dragon upon its pile of treasure he would see fire and death rain upon any who tried. But to do so for so much, so many, and to give himself so selflessly to the task, he slipped into paranoia, into frustration. For to do so, to act for the good of others and deny his own nature, was a torture. A prison. With this place and this herd as his jailors. And he had just beaten up a guard for the keys.

Yet it does not come. Narrowed earth eyes, with his heart beat racing in their pulse, trembling the picture, sees nothing. Harks pinned, but listening find no sound. The Haruspex stands there, head held in dignity, and he takes each blow selflessly. The only sign of waver, was a frown he lets slip, but even that is washed away in the next breath. The lips of the golden begin to twist from the smile as he saw all the arrows miss the dual colored hide. It went back, melting into something more vicious and threatening. How dare he. How dare he stand there like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t true. Like it didn’t hurt him. It just shows he’s a dog. A feelingless, obedient dog. Yes…that was it. It is just proof. A bile rose in his throat and his crowned head rose, ready to lash the Haruspex again. To let loose the whip and see the obedient creature flinch. To see him break under the oath, so the golden would still have his victory. Ashamin, the dear gentle soul, was no longer a being, with breath, he was a thing, as dead to the golden as the armor kicked to the wall.

The golden reaches for the words, pulling together the most vile and cruel phrases he could master, but they never leave his lips. Hooves click on the floor and the burning gold of his eyes turn upon a small antlered figure. Haldir. The golden’s full attention settles on the stag, letting the seething sight burn into him. The dark deer returns the gaze, yet his heart quivers. He knows where he is, beside another, but his heart gives in fully to the gold. He flows across their bond with the ever same love, and care it always has. He stands here, because his heart can not bare to see the golden suffer so. He stands here stuck, because he knows not what to do or how to help. Yet the golden sees none of that. Between them the bond is deathly silent, tremoring only with the tensions of each. His heart pounds, burns, and is shocked to see such betrayal. Such deceit. A traitor. Yes, that’s all Haldir’s ever been. A traitor to the golden. Always filling him with kind thoughts, and warm feelings. Its nothing but another chain, another link in the collar. The golden had truly gone mad as his muscles readied to surge at the stag.

Then, as he stared upon the dark deer, plotting its demise, a most strange thing happened. His vision which had trembled, and pulsed, shaking in the rage, and tainted with the dark and violent colors of hate, stills. It was gradual at first. But then the pupils on his eyes, so narrow and sharp, relax, and the normality of his vision returns. The golden’s breath slows, drawing deeper and longer. While his body, having been taunt and tense, peals of that layer. And within his chest the furious, high pitched pounding of his heart, slowly grinded down like a worn jet engine, to a slow, calm beat.

At first the golden only noticed his vision clearing, and his ears, no longer hearing his heart, catch the silence of the moment. Then like a great wave a drowsiness washed over him. It pulled him down from the precipice of attack, making his eyes heavy with all those sleepless nights. This is the golden though, and he does not give in easily to this new change. He wanted to rage and be angry. Earth eyes narrow suddenly, darting to the stag’s feet where trails of black wisps move, but they are small and far away. No this was not Haldir’s work. And Ashamin still stood motionless.

Then he can resist no longer and his body yields, eyes going glassy now that the sharp hot rage was pulled from them. Every muscle begins to feel the dull ache of all those many kicks, and charges, of the nights spent standing and pacing, and his knees tremble momentarily for it. For nights he had labored for rest and sleep, and like a blanket it covers him at last. The deepest neediest desire clings to it more than the arguments of rage and threat, and he forgets that Ashamin and Haldir were even there. His head even falls and turns away slightly. He forgets that there is still a collar on his neck. He forgets this world, as sleep caresses him sweetly. Secure, warm, and at ease, like a child in a mother’s lap.

Had he been alone the gold might have fallen and slept. His anger becoming like a strung balloon, hovering just above him out of reach. While he gave in though, others fought. The dark stag watched the golden with shocked eyes as he felt in his own breast the tension between he and the gold deaden. Fear pricked each hair and nerve. What is happening? What has done this? His antlered head glances to the one beside him, but Ashamin had not moved. Forgetting the Haruspex could not understand him, he bleats tense and fearful. Fear locks up knots in his throat, what is happening to him!?

The stag steps forward, fearing the fall of the gold. Yet he hesitates. His senses are alive, yet they sense the unnatural swing of this mood, but he could not process it. This was not right. It was too early for the golden to be so spent by his frustrations. It was too sudden. The release having no trigger. Though he had steeled himself against his bonded’s cruelty the deer breaks it back down. Then the stag reached out through the bond. He doesn’t find the threat of death though, instead the fluid peace and ease like a cool summer’s night drifts across to him. The dark stag stills, lost in the mists of confusion.

It was an eerie moment as the two became affected by Ashamin’s magic, but it did not last. When the Haruspex lets his gaze and ears fall from the golden’s heart it breathes on its own once more. Yet he hoovers in this moment, accepting the place it has found itself. That is until the invader speaks. A lifted relaxed ear turns to the blood stained creature, but that is the only reaction he gets. For a moment.

The golden stood looking low and away, his ears hearing the Haruspex clearly and calmly, without the blood rage pounding through them. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and do not show recognition of the others. His mind was the only thing pulsing. What has happened here? He still stood upon the pillars of his rage but felt stripped of all his weapons and armor. The fire was gone, and he could do nothing by lay among these fearful, angering thoughts like a lost child, morning. For he was at loss without the rage for a moment. The madness of the gold still there, but without its previously lofty heights. The venom still there, but languishing low like a sizzling fire. His mind then wavers upon the edge of fear. Why did sleep so suddenly come when it had evaded him for so long? Was he so weak that he was spent already? A flash of pain, fear, and worry fleck across the gold in his eyes, though it is quickly muted in the embarrassment of it. Yet it shocks his heart awake, fearful.

Ashamin speaks again, and once more his clear steady voice rises and falls in the golden’s harks. It turns bitterly in him, for the madness was still there, though clearly dulled. It twisted the stories of the Haruspex, armor and gold in a jumbled mass. The fear, the madness, the words, they all begin to wake him again. “You are blind Ashamin.” It was low and dark, yet bitter. Even as the other warned against underestimation, an understatement in itself given the creature’s spars and intelligence, the gold spoke with the same mind. His rage may be spent (or stolen) but the mass upon which all this was built was still there. The pain and agony of which it was all built still burrowed deep in his chest.

Haldir sense his companion reawakening, and his hear too leapt to life. But it also wallowed him despair for he, having opened himself to the gold fully again, could sense the same thoughts still there. The same frustrations. The same anger. The same pain. And he could see that even this lapse would not stop the rising of it again.

The golden shifted, looking back and raised that cursed crown upon his head. “Yes it gives you strength. Grow strong with those chains upon your back.” The last he spit, the venom returning, but still it was dulled and low, so he spoke next as he had the first. “Yet for all your strength when you pull against those chains, when you seek something just beyond their reach. You will not break them.” His voice had begun to sink into a strange tone so rarely heard from his lips. A voice forced and cracked, made bitter by the past. Again rises the question of who the golden was talking to. Himself or the Haruspex. “For all the years you bear it and strengthen from it, you cannot break the truth that it holds you. Binds you. Imprisons you.” The pain etched across the words began to form the walls of his frustration again. To speak it gave it more power over him, and not only did his heart build again, but his fire at last found wood to build upon again.

All these things Haldir watched, and pained over. The deer’s large ears had fallen and from the side of the Haruspex he watches, still caught between defending the gentle heart (though he should realize by now that was no necessary), and comforting his bonded through their loyal ties. But Ashamin speaks up once more and the deer shutters for he feels a spark, like from two rocks hitting, light in his bonded. “No you are not.” The voice was cold, and the depth of the previous lines lost instantly. Yet it was still low and dark. The conversation was brought back, and brought back hotly. “You have sickened.”

Head raises now, and though his eyes do not burn with the fires of rage, it smolders there, still venomous and dangerous. “For you Ashamin have accepted your chains here. You have yielded, and become a fool for you have gladly clothed yourself with them. Letting them define you in the name of strength.” The climax was building on him, yet in his breast his heart still beat only slightly elevated, for this pain, this hate transgressed rage. “All you call yourself comes from them, like a fool of a dog, comforted to not pull the leash because the lies his master tells him. Nothing but an empty, weakened tool. For you are blind to your own prison and downfall.” His gaze leveled with Haruspex, and in it smoldered and burned the fires again, soon to grow. For though the Haruspex gentle magic could quell the rage, it could not erase what had built it in the first place, and the gentle heart was only accelerating it.

The pale eyes of Haldir gazed from around the painted’s coat where Ashamin had stepped before him. The words burning in his ears. He knows, even if the gold does not, that these things are not directly solely at the Haruspex, but like a mirror pierce the golden’s flesh as well. And they sting the golden’s own chest. Aching with the full weight of it all, as the gold finishes his piece the stag timidly reaches across the bond. Mellonen…[ My friend..] But it was the wrong time and moment to remind the gold of the deer’s presence and love. Instantly the gold’s head snatches to the figure hiding behind the Haruspex. The deer’s protection by another sealed the mad thought of the deer’s full betrayal and his seething dark words flew from his lips. “Uin thang hûneg, gwarth!”[I do not need your pity, traitor] The golden’s lips bared, and though the Haruspex’s form stood in the way the golden lunged for his own stag.

OOC::

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Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426

Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB

Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen

12-15-2015, 05:52 PM (This post was last modified: 12-15-2015, 05:53 PM by Ashamin.)

THE HARUSPEX
on his own

Watching his power transform the Laurelin from rage to relaxation was fantastic. The power rushed through Ashamin just as it did his lord. He felt, more than anything, strong. And though the satisfaction could never last, it consumed him for a time. Satisfaction became pride: a deadly and horrible sin.

As the lids of the laurelin drooped, Ashamin considered it--pride. Was it really a sin? How could it be a sin to feel so fantastically good? And if it was a crime of conscience, a moral fault of any who felt its glow, what was his life like in comparison to those who did not, as he, suppress it?

Finally, the haruspex was discovering the twisted temptation of sin. He thought of the Moon Goddess, who had offered him two paths. One to strengthen himself in relation to who he had been, by first making himself weaker. Another, to strengthen himself in relation to his herd, by making them weaker.

He wanted the magic he sought to make the Basin stronger--the logic of taking away from its power had escaped him, then. But as Ashamin watched the Laurelin recover from the dullness of his slowed heart, as Ashamin heard the golden's barbed and biting words, he understood what the Goddess of the Moon had meant.

Strengthen the herd by hurting those that hurt it. Cut out the cancer, and when the wound of the surgery heals the Basin will be stronger for it. And Ashamin? Ashamin would know the skill of striking out disease. Ashamin would be stronger for it, too. How unfortunate it was that his companion was far gone and asleep. How unfortunate that no one could stop this rapid descent.

The golden's words meant nothing. As when Ashamin had spoken to the psychobabbling mare, he felt an odd frustration. They were wrong. So many, always, wrong. How could it be that he had such strong beliefs that they could try to refute? What had been curiosity and willingness had turned into empty disinterest. The more that he was forced to listen, the less he cared to learn and understand. Slowly the vessel filled. Slowly, slowly, a well of others' malformed thoughts filled Ashamin until the brim.

You are blind. The water of them licks at the rim.

You have sickened. It wets the highest edges.

You have yielded. It starts to turn out, creating a convex film at the entrance to the vessel.

Just one more. That is all it takes. One more drop, one careless slip of the carrier's aching hoof, and then the water spills. And it comes in a tongue that the haruspex does not even know: presents itself as a lunge, and the strange sounds of an indelicate, elven tongue:

Uin thang hûneg, gwarth!

At first, it happened in a split second. The magic that Ashamin had only just learned he had sprang forth, and the haruspex understood as it did exactly what he was doing.

Hurt another. Weaken the herd to strengthen yourself. Cut out the cancer. Ruin the false friend. Take down the Laurelin Lord, and use his downfall to launch your ascent. The instinct was completely impure, a desperate grab for the power that the Moon Goddess could grant him. As much as Ashamin could have tried to say it was for the good of the herd, there was something deeper, more sinister, in the lashing.

The Laurelin lunged, and so too did an electric grip upon his heart. Chaotic and powerful, a force that hastened the speed of the beat of life to painful quickness, reached out and saved Haldir from his hideous reflection.

Let the golden one suffer in that state, as Ashamin walked from the point of conflict with no urgency or fire in his empty, dead black eyes. Let Thranduil suffer, perhaps writhe upon the floor of his own home, as Ashamin walked slow and unburdened. He was tall. He was proud. He walked the earth like it was his and all the while gripped the golden's heart.

"You know, Thranduil," Ashamin said in a voice that, were he himself, would have scared him half to death, "I think you're done. Its time for me to talk."

Upon the cave floor, the cracked pieces of the vessel lay in now useless puddles. The haruspex stepped over them with ease and made his way over to the armor Thranduil had kicked to the entrance. "Are these your chains, then?" He cast a look back at the laurelin, ignoring his companion for the moment. As soon as Ashamin's gaze was upon Thranduil, he sent another shock to the lord's heart. Yes, this was his power. Yes, he had the pride to wield it.

Slowly, the haruspex looked back out into the Aurora's bright day. For once, its intrusive light did not bother him; Ashamin felt wide awake. Without looking, he reached out his long tail and tried to feel for Thranduil's face--to brush it with the coils that sparked away from his own form. He looked down at the armor with a frown. "You see, your problem is that you define something that can help you as a crutch. Your problem is that you mistake empathy for hindrance, dedication and loyalty for fetters. But those same things you despise have made me powerful. Stronger than you, perhaps." And if not now, then soon, Ashamin found himself thinking. What was this overcoming him? Was it pride or something more? It had to be, it had to be something else.

He had been beaten too long. He had listened, given in, taken too much. The puddles began to bleed, crawling towards the entrance and pooling at the haruspex's four deadly cleft hooves. "You have coddled yourself when I have suffered. You have lounged carelessly on the gold that I have broken my back and lost my life to give you. I have the knowledge you don't--the understanding that with ties, with bondage, I am someday forced to break free. And when I do, if I have not already..." Ashamin nosed the armor, as if curious and then circled it so that it rested between himself and his former, if ever, friend. He did not complete the thought: the pounding of the clay, the throwing of it to the table, the breaking of Thranduil's heart, was enough to punctuate the sentence.

Carefully, he watched the one he had worshipped for so long. And for what? To be ignored, disregarded, kicked and beaten like a dog? Maybe Thranduil was right that Ashamin had let himself live beneath others for too long. But Ashamin thought not. He thought that it had taught him something deeper, something better, something more. Now, at last, he would be free of his own accord. He kicked the armor lightly, drawing Thranduil's attention to the pile of leather and fur before he spoke of it. "What do you think, Thranduil? Would you like to see how the earth turns when I break my chains and wear yours like a crown?"

No, Ashamin thought. One could not truly arm themselves with the knowledge and power that came with freedom without having once been caged.

""

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[Permission from Hawk for Ashamin's magic to succeed in stopping Thranduil from hurting Haldir]

See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598

Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE

Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk

12-17-2015, 01:27 AM (This post was last modified: 12-17-2015, 01:27 AM by Thranduil.)

Such terror and horror the stag had never known. The elvish burned in his ears, seething with its meaning. Traitor? He was a traitor? But the tears had no time to fall, for the gold slipped from his place and a nightmare roared towards the dark stag. His whole body shook, trembling. Never had the gold been like this before. Never had it come to him directly charging his bonded out of madness. A shove or a nip, but not this. Not his burning rage. And it terrified the deer to see the one he loved so much turn the monster onto him, and it froze the deer in place. Rooted in the terror of it all.

All the golden’s mind burned. The deer dared pity him. It dared take protection under another. How dare he. He would pay for it. That deer would feel what the golden had been holding back. They would all see the wounds such as weakness as pity brought. His shoulders surged up, and head low, ready to shove the full weight into the shadow in his way. He never made a full step.

It hit. Lightning struck through his chest ripping it apart and arching through his entire body. Vision and sound instantly darkened and all things clear were tossed, like a shoved over table, onto the floor. When his hooves hit ground they buckled, for everything was chaos in him. Ashamin’s shock raced up and down his veins, searing them. And his heart. Oh gods his heart. Eyes clinch tight in agony and instincts pulled his head down to his chest. It burned. IT BURNED. But it weighed more than the mountains themselves. Like after a great run it clawed at his chest, and stole from his lungs all his air. Each long claw he could feel ripping deep. His breath sucks in, but it near chocks for panic that was all his body. He stumbles, catching himself, but only once. Earth eyes open to the world for the source of such agony, and find it spinning and spinning. The crowned head sways, and he was gone. The great golden lord of the north came crashing down to the rock floor.

Haldir was frozen, but not for the same reasons. He felt too through the bond the burning in his chest, the shockwaves racing through his body. It shook him on his lean legs, for no agony had the golden ever felt like that with Haldir. It terrified the deer more than the horror of the punishment he had just faced. It terrified him more than tigers, dragons, and gods. For on its threats he heard the whispers of death.

It was a strange stirring of emotions in that little deer’s heart. For it was in love he reached out, in love he had been frozen, and now in love that he starred at the golden upon the floor horrified. Yet it was the very hatred of that love that had caused it all in the first place. His eyes grew wet. Yes he hated to feel such love and binds. He hated that the golden always saw the worst of the world. He hated having to go through such horrors in his life. That bitter night upon the Steppe fills his chest with cold. He hated it all. He hated their bond. He wanted nothing more than to be able to turn and ignore the tortured stallion upon the floor. For how many times had seen moments were he deserved such. He hated being frozen here. He hated how much he loved that golden son.

How much he loved him…How he loved to race across the vales with him, and hear the powerful laughter boom across the landscape. How he loved to see that spark in those golden eyes and feel the energy boom him up. The deer loved it so when on cold winter nights the gold did not object when the deer curled beside him. He loved the rare but pure nudge of comfort. To feel the hot breath upon his coat. He loved to feel the bond between them, and know he would never be alone. Know that for all those hard times, they would be together. It was love and it ran deep, for the deer knew what this world did not. The dark stag knew that even through the dark days of old, the gold still stood, rallying and dealing with the past to meet the day, and challenging the lightning to come down from the clouds. The deer who loved and hated him so much, never imagined it would actually happen.

As Haldir stood shaking, frozen in place, lost in the inner turmoil, the golden lay upon the rock bed. Red stained one front knee where it had scrapped across the rock, but it was hardly felt against the rest. His chest felt like a ton of iron, yet thrashed and clawed about desperate, and sharp. Every nerve ached with shock, and his head swam like a drowning man. His whole body shivers, and his head, clutched tight in pain to his chest, lined tight, laced with pain. For an eternity he felt in the clutches of death, mute, deaf, and blind to its ways.

Then the gentle heart sheds his mask, peeling the heart of gold away to reveal one just as wicked, twisted, and cruel as all the rest. His voice breaks the stunned silence (aside from the golden’s gasps). They came though muffled, to the golden upon the rock floor, and had his heart not been flying off the tracks, it surely would have stopped still. That voice, that tone he had never expected to hear from Ashamin. That sounded like hi-but the pain raced away they thoughts, and he never finished. Ashamin was sounding like the Laurelin himself. The world turned upside down.

Thranduil may have been lost to fully grasping it, but the deer still trembling a ways off did not. His own heart sank to hear the foul tones and venom roll from the gentle heart. And like a loose spark from the Haruspex’s charges, it connects. The deer’s face slowly turned, as his whole body still shook, and he looked for once clearly into the Haruspex’s eyes. They looked over the deer to the golden on the floor, dead, cold and guilty. The sense of unnatural actions, and tingling of the nerves rang true as the deer finally realized. Magic. Which meant…The deer sucked in his breath and the name gentle heart was used no more.

The reservation in the deer’s heart broke through and he spun his head back to the golden still laying upon the floor, though his body had stilled. Panic began to race the own deer’s heart over the deadlock of love and hate. But still he did not move toward the golden. The Haruspex may have turned, but it could not drive the deer away completely. His heart beat in his throat for his bonded, but it was not enough to change what had been done. All his life the golden had wished the deer away. Haldir was not blind to it. Not blind to the dark glances and pinned ears. Not blind to the tension. All his life, the golden had deserved retribution, for pain in the past does not grant undeserved revenge in the present. The golden had said vile, vicious and cruel things, and to add, he had wished hell upon his only keeper. That truth bound the deer to the spot, unable to act.

A voice cuts through the hushed cave again. Are these your chains, then? Haldir held his breath for he knew no armor or trinket made those chains upon the golden. Those chains were forged in much hotter flames. While the thing Ashamin stood by might have been made a little copper loop, the golden’s were large as a ships chains, and made of lead and iron. The Laurelin may have distained and bucked at all around him, but that would never make chains to match those he walked his life with since before Helovia. And yet for all the dark stag knew of companion, for all his heart ached to see him suffer so much, he could not move.

Hal… The spine of the dark stag went rigid, his ears lifted and mind searched through for the voice which trailed out lost and weak like a drowned whisper. Could he be? Haldir… díhe-. [Forg-]It snapped short, as electricity singed up the bond, making the deer flinch and gripping the golden tight in a ball again. He teeth grinding to keep back the shout as lightening tore open his chest again. It struck worse than the first for his heart was already racing at high speed. Gods why hadn’t they taken that away, he wails within. Why didn’t they cut it from his chest years ago. Ripped it out like the cancer it was. It had done nothing that day but break, ache, and weigh him. He had tried, struggled, and practiced rioting its core and poising its soul, but yet the damned thing still beat and pulsed. It wasn’t enough. So much torture caused by such a small thing. So much agony over something he never wanted. You ask what his chains are. You wish to know what forges the heaviest links…It is a broken heart.

Nányë tol….[I am come…] It whispers, as if it was spoken from far away. Earth eyes open to see the world spinning, but covered by a dark shadow. They shut away again. Nányë tol. It was louder, clearer, and this time when he opens his eyes the pale eyes of Haldir, cheeks stained with their tears (mostly of frustration) gaze back at him. Haldir had slipped forward to his bonded’s head, falling to his knees to hear the gold apologize. Never had the deer heard such. It was small, and obvious, but coming from one such as he, who never should his regret, it swelled the deer’s heart and broke the deadlock of his emotions. They lay together, the momentous moment not lost, even in the throes of torture. If Ashamin had thought them completely estranged, then he had forgotten how strong the bond between companion and horse can be, and was a fool for it. For though their bond was brittle, rusted, and full of all manner of sharp edges, it was there. Able enough to even overcome the golden being as horrid as lashing out at the stag by some magically, unexplainable connection.

“Gûlië” [It is magic] The deer’s voice slips through the mists again. And at first the still agonizing gold does not hear. His mind too fleeting and swimming, but then the words break through, and the shockwaves through his mind rival those of Ashamin’s to his heart.

The deer watches intensely the golden’s face, but finds it locked away from him in the strain of his chest. Then a little white snakes weaves into his vision. The dark stag flinches, then his own anger finally fully blooms as he realizes the source. Dark antlers swiftly surge under the lion’s tail, the coils, striking their bone arch and crack among them, before the deer shakes his head to rid himself of them. His pale eyes fall upon the Haruspex and now it is their turn to seethe and burn. What a foul thing. What a low cut. Here the gold lay upon the floor writhing in the beast’s magic already, punished enough, and Ashamin seeks to cut him lower still. It was just as cruel and vicious as the golden’s heinous acts, but Haldir could see little cause, and felt betrayed by the Haruspex he thought he knew.

As the narrowed eyes of the dark stag burry into the Haruspex he speaks. This time the magic of Ashamin works against him, and the sea upon which the golden was still painfully lost, kept him from grasping most of the painted’s meanings. Instead he struggles above the waters. That Ashamin was the one locking so tight upon his heart still made his mind roll. But the truth…the reality…that this was not some weakness of his, not a failure, brought with it something strange. It brought a separation. A release. For days and weeks he had been pacing, burning with energy he couldn’t seem to rid of. Burning with a hatred he could not place. And now, now he had a solid target. Now the first blow raced across his skin and he could feel its bitter sting. Like a masochist the pain is welcomed. The racing heart burning in his chest, breaks the tensions. The first blow had been struck and he was now free to return it.

And good gods he couldn’t wait to do that. Words flirted in his harks, phrases and snippets, but under Ashamin’s hold his mind could not grasp it too long for these new thoughts filled his spinning head. What did come only fueled his thoughts further. Your problem is…loyalty for fetters….Strong than you. It was enough for the golden. The blinded Haruspex did not seem to comprehend that he was underestimating the golden. A shallow breath inhales in the golden’s chest as the Haruspex continues to talk with his back turned. He holds it, his body going completely still, focusing harder than before. The circlet atop his head shivers silently, and a purple stone in its grasp awakens, swirling black and going dead again. Instantly a smile rises, viciously on the golden’s lips, and the panic of Haldir settles. Ashamin grip was released, and now he had hell to pay.

Of course the golden wasn’t yet ready to doll it out. His heart feel from its hearts but it ached from the exertion. For a moment, the golden lay still, breathing deep to calm and ease it. He still cursed the foul thing in his breast, but for now, there was one he cursed more. Do not underestimate me, the painted had said. And that mistake, though fully his, fueled the fires of his rage against the stallion. He dare step into the golden’s cave, and trick the golden. Yet, for all the anger building against the Haruspex, there was a bloom of deep pleasure and satisfaction in the gold. He had desired release. Desired to be spent, and now he would. The words of Ashamin roll over to him. …lounged carelessly… But the golden had work to do and could not stop to listen.

He takes one last deep breath, and feels some returning solidarity to his chest. It was time. Pulling from Haldir, who remains quiet still, unsure of this change, the golden moves freely. His head rises, and while an ache slaps his chest like from a solid blow, his body follows. He may has spent his sleeping hours awake, and his body may have been blown through by the magic of the Haruspex, but there was enough madness left in him to shake the aches to the background, and let his blood flow hot with the coming struggle’s promises. He wavers once as he stands, but only once, as Ashamin spits on. ”…I have knowledge…” Feeling the blood in his legs again the golden is empowered. Through his mind it hummed. ”Anduial” The circlet atop his head, so often mistaken for some feminine trinket now shivered to life to reveal its nasty little secret. Metal, silenced by the golden’s blessed gift, expands across his back with a silent snap. Even the stag still at his feet can not help but grin as the twisted happiness pulsates through to him.

When the Haruspex turns around from his fine speech. He will find an armored golden lord of the north, head held high with threat. Of course it was a bluff mostly. The golden’s head, held at such a height felt light and the world shivered with the aftermath of spinning. And, truth be known, if he had taken a step immediately he would have probably stumbled. Yet he held, for the Laurelin, if anything, was ever a good liar. Still…it was most excellent that the Haruspex was taking his time.

Earth eyes narrow as the hoof hit the armor upon the floor. All the ties between the two still remained, for Ashamin’s words, as most spoken to the golden in his own tongue, changed nothing. That armor was still as burdensome as the Haruspex, though now the golden knew which thing was more foul. The last words of the low creature rise forth. It flashed a moment in his mind, a reminder of the tract of thought, that they were not talking exactly about the same chains. Yet this only made the golden’s lips twist into a foul curl. For he knew the weight of his chains to be great, and trusted his strength to be greater. “It’s tempting, but I fear they would crush that pretty little head of yours.” His teeth bared and he steps forward, only once, still testing his own strength behind his bluff. “And I would hate to have the joy of doing that stolen from me.” He steps forward again. His words lower, whispering into a hiss. “You don’t know me Ashamin, you do not know the true chains I bear, so now, Haruspex, you underestimate me.” He draws up, and steps again, closing this distance now.

Stopping at the armor he seethes. “Though, that might be fun.” Viciously, a cloven hoof kicks the armor towards the painted’s legs. Head leveling, while the silver horns upon his head glisten from the light outside. “You’re going to need this.” The Laurelin spat, full of the promise of threats, but like that malicious grin upon his lips, its twisted with a light air of humor. Was it madness, or the return of the gold now that finally some promise of relief arrived?

Then he’s gone. Adrenaline began to pound through his system, and it was quickly overcoming the worst of his concerns for his condition. So he steps around the painted stag, slipping by at a jog. His mind a whirl with all he had to do so quickly. “NOW Haruspex!” Came the sharp bark as he slipped outside. He couldn’t even bare to say the name, for it burned so hot upon his tongue.

Haldir stood in the back of the cave alone now. He had watched as the golden readied and rose. He had rose as well when his bonded steeled himself. It was not with a happy sight. Though their loyalties had been rebuilt, he saw the battle plans forming, and his heart was sick of it. More pain, more agony. It bristled his soul to think of it all, and the foolishness of stepping even these cruel words up. He blamed the golden, yes, but he blamed the painted creature as well. The deer had thought him wise and kind, but to buy into this sin of madness, to bring such cruelty was just as horrendous. Hotaru had come before him here, and kept her head, she had brought ease. The deer had trusted the Haruspex, who always saw the good in the golden more than any others, to do the same. But the bloodstained had betrayed that trust. He had betrayed his reason for coming. And, the deer believed, he had betrayed himself.

His hard pale eyes boring into the Haruspex. He calls out in a short breath as the golden slips out the door, calling for the painted’s attention. From the pile behind him the deer pulls out a small dark object. The bloodstained need to remember. Walking to the stallion, if he had waited, the deer dropped the object gently at his feet. It was small carving, no larger than a leaf, of a deer. It stood calm and wise, its eyes gazing out with the serenity the animals naturally carry. Looking back up to the Haruspex the golden’s stag snorts, letting the mist roll out thick. The painted one needed to remember he was not empty, tied, and weak as the golden said. For the deer, Ashamin was strong, but his strength never lay in breaking things, but in building them. Haldir may be helplessly tied to the golden’s side and madness, but he prayed that Ashamin’s shift here was just a momentary nightmare, a product of the contagious rage of the gold. For the deer missed his friend.

((Outside the golden was busy, for he knew he had little time. The landscape didn’t offer him much. Outside the golden’s cave, down a small but steep drop was a clearing on the mountain side, small but large enough for a brawl. It had a gentle slope down in general, but to the right of the cave it rose up to be a ridge in the mountain. Here the golden brought himself. And under that armored head, a vicious smile rose. For with every passing second his mind grew sharper and racing blood restored his body. Though it felt like he had already taken a hit to the chest, the golden breathed deep and found all to be satisfying and sweet. A bit of bitter copper blood is just what he was craving, even if it was his own.))

OOC:: Next time I try to write this much someone stop me. XD Please don't feel the need to return the length. I'm good to go into the spar/challenge whatever you decide. The last paragraph is loosey sort of. In order to prevent powerplay and follow rules and all I'm willing to change it if need be.

Caught Ashamin's magic in one of his two moon amulets.

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