the Rift


[OPEN] A Stranger in the Land of My Birth [Joining!]

Luken Posts: 27
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.0 :: Three Years [Tallsun Born] HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Sparrow
#1
If I Shout and Can't Be Heard,
I Want to be Destroyed at Your Hands</style>

While I Can Still be Called "Me"

Surely none of it would be the same, and honestly, Luken wondered just what compelled him to return to the land of his birth. Would there be anything there for him? Would there be anyone there who he even recognized? Or would there be strangers at every twist and turn? Shouldn’t he be trying to find Destrier? Laila? Someone he knew?

“I’m such a terrible son,” the draft-mutt lamented on a depressed whimper, struggling to decide if he should continue on his path or just turn tail and run away. He was a terrible son, a terrible brother, a terrible soldier, a terrible everything. What had he done in his life that warranted pride? Nothing. Nothing at all. He wasn’t a talented scholar, a battle-hardened warrior, a gentle medic… He had achieved literally nothing save learning to walk, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Zilch. Nada. The list of failures far outweighed his list of accomplishments, and such knowledge was enough to weigh heavy on a broken heart.

I’m no better than Mother.

With that dark, self-loathing thought and an equally heavy heart, Luken picked his path carefully towards the borders of the World’s Edge. Frost clung to the trees and the vegetation, the early morning sun marred by clouds in the sky and the thick canopy overhead. Mists curled about the base of the trees, and Luken dipped his pale crown to avoid a low hanging limb. Every step was carefully placed, legs carrying the painted stallion over roots and other such undergrowth, and it was only when he reached the remnants of the Glass Wall that he stopped.

An ear flicked forward, then swiveled behind him, listening. Would anyone even be around this early in the morning? Soldiers on patrol? A medic searching for herbs? A leader, refusing outsiders like him from entering their land? Large, robust muscles quivered in anticipation, waiting, watching... Hoping.

Swallowing thickly, warm, soulful pools of chocolate stared out at the familiar lands of his birth, and he nickered. The sound carried through the trees, and hopefully someone would hear. Maybe, just maybe, he could get the answers he so desperately needed, and maybe… He could come home again.

ooc: Luken is hoping to return home to the Edge. :D Everyone is welcome. <3

Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#2
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
Early matters little to someone who haunts the world—someone who drifts, like the wind, like fog, trickling in through the cracks and then whisking away again without a word. He had been away, doing nothing, anything, everything, going where his feet took him and where his restless mind commanded him. He had visited ghosts in the north, danced under the stars, and finally, he was being blown home, carried in like a single, early snowflake by a defiant wind. Frost refusing to melt to the pale, early sunshine glittered in its muted rays, bending stiffened vegetation beneath his weight and failing to pop back when he passed.

The world was like that: ever-changing, moving to the lightest of touches. Even when it felt like bringing about change was like trying to bring down a mountain you changed things, albeit not the ones you were attempting to.

The owls rode upon his back, Irma at the withers, Diego just behind, oddly enough. They were tired, of this incessant wandering, of the way he moved ceaselessly, they were tired of sleeping in trees only to have to fly like a storm to catch up with him—just as he had grown tired of waiting for them. So things changed, they slept on him, and he carried them safely home.

He was tired of being away now. He was tired of not seeing the evergreen trees of home, of chasing lost futures and trying to remember forgotten dreams. He wanted some safety, some peace, time and space to breathe, to make new futures and dream new dreams. Pieces of his past he could carry with him into the future, re-claim them in his current life, but some were better left alone in the snow.

The former was the reason he had gone all the way to the Aurora Basin, the reason he had sought for something to hold on to—a way to bridge gaps and mend distances. Had he succeeded? He didn't know. Only time would tell if a rekindled flame would take hold, or if it would sputter, and go out again, leaving them in darkness.

Perhaps he ought to have rested more on his way south. Perhaps he ought to have listened to the owls, stopped to forage and doze while they slept, but few were the times he had. The past hours clung to him like iron weights, an ache beginning to form in his shoulders and hips, a sense of hazy exhaustion threatening to cloud the edges of his attention. He was a creature made to endure, but in his sudden desperation to come home (—to safety) he had pushed past his boundaries.

Still, he could've gone another day without breaking: his body was fine, his lungs at ease, heart beating leisurely. It was his mind threatening to shatter.

The sun was mellow, half-hidden, but revealing secrets all the same. An unknown shadow had fallen across their border, the hind end of some draft stallion presenting itself to his view. For a brief, sickening moment Mauja thought it was Aaron, but the scent was wrong, and the closer he came the more obvious it was that it wasn't Aaron. This stranger was too tall, maybe a tad sturdier, too, and the colorful hellhound was nowhere to be seen. A nicker broke the early morning stillness, a cry for attention. At least he respected the borders, which definitely earned him some brownie points from Mau.

Absolute rest would have to wait a little longer. The owls slept, their consciousnesses lost in a deep, comforting darkness, a weight across his own mind, tugging at him as it had for the past hours. He wanted to join them in oblivion.

"You stand at the borders of the World's Edge," he commented when he was close enough, picking his way past roots and rocks to come stand beside the stranger. Tall, but not as tall as Mauja. He felt oddly smug about that. "And you seem as if you seek something." Mauja's voice was light and gentle, soft and quiet there in the morning; the owls would wake easily, but as well as he could he anchored them in safety and sleep. They had flown long before giving in to his stubbornness, and taken their rest. And so, he hoped this stranger would speak with the same softness, for Mauja was not sure he could mute their senses to the voice of a stranger if it cut too loud. "What is it?"

[ @Luken! <3 ]
Mauja
the white queen
image credits
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#3
Tembovu
In a rare moment of peace, the Elephant slumbered in the early morning frost. Deep, even breaths created hanging clouds, obscuring the masked face and creating ice crystals that clung around his eyes and mouth. Lower lip hung loose, drooping away from his maw and his great head was bowed, falling below his withers. Colossal haunches were exaggeratedly sloped as a hind leg was greatly cocked in his rest.

It was unusual for him; the soundness of sleep evaded more often than not. But when it came, it took the King deeply, stealing his hearing and sight while trapping him in vivid dreams. Some were pleasant, most were mindless, but some… some were so dark and so miserable that they were likely the reason sleep evaded Tembovu on most nights.

Twitching of ears and moving of eyes belied the dreams of the Elephant, but did not reveal their nature. So tightly did his dreams hold him that he did not even rouse at the whinny that called so close to where he slumbered against a tree. The quiet murmurs of Mauja did nothing to wake him either.

It was only himself, trying to rise from the hellish prison of his nightmare, that caused a stirring of his head. A fleeting frown crossed his sleeping face, telling those who watched the dark nature of his sleep. A harsh breath from flared nostrils, a twitching of his thick neck— he struggled to climb out of this slumber.

And then navy eyes flew open, glazed and unfocused against the morning light. Unseeing, they swept the forest around him, passing over the vague forms of two large stallions. Patches of buckskin hide were darkened to chocolate by sweat as his breathing slowed.

Gaze focused, seeing Mauja and an unknown stallion though the trees. Mauja was looking at the man, as if awaiting an answer. Mind still muddled by sleep and nightmares, he slowly started towards the others, coming to stand alongside Mauja and nodding a greeting towards the newcomer. Voice still thick with sleep, he opted to wait for the tall, painted man to speak before introducing himself.
There's a burning star to lead your father home,
He'll travel from afar, no matter where you roam.
Rest your angry heart, little one, don't you cry,
Soon you'll see him come across the bending, bleeding sky.

@Luken herroooo :3

Please tag Tembovu.

Luken Posts: 27
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.0 :: Three Years [Tallsun Born] HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Sparrow
#4
If I Shout and Can't Be Heard,
I Want to be Destroyed at Your Hands</style>

While I Can Still be Called "Me"

He did not have to wait long before his beckon was answered, it seemed. A spectre wove through the trees, ivory and large, dappled with ebony spots and a jewel of ice adorning his brow. He looked to be a proud thing, something not to be trifled with, and although Luken did not recognize him, the young vagabond knew better than to be rude. Even though he had been born in these lands, it was no longer his home. Warm pools of chocolate assessed the stranger, taking notice of the two slumbering owls upon his back, and the painted stallion breathed in slowly.

He spoke, this spotted stag, and Luken listened with a swiveled ear. Oh, he knew very well where he stood, these lands of twisting trees and dancing mists familar as his own heartbeat, but he remained respectful and silent, eyes watching as another stallion soon joined them. This one, however, seemed to lack the poise and grace that the spotted fellow seemed to radiate, instead looking panicked and sweat-stricken. As the other horned fellow, the one with the cropped chocolate mane and creamy stripes, nodded to him, Luken respectfully did the same, dipping his pink muzzle in the stallion's direction.

He had no idea who they were, but Luken had been raised to be a gentleman, not a shrew.

"I know where I stand, Sir," Luken said honestly, his tone light and soft as to not disturb the two sleeping winged creatures, "I was born here many seasons ago. My name is Luken, son of Destrier." Here, the vagabond's soulful brown orbs lingered from the spotted fellow to the striped one, his expression humble and somewhat meek. "I seek to return to the only home that I have ever known. I... I don't know where my family is, or if they even remain here, but I have served the World's Edge with my blood and body before, and I wish to do so again. It's all I know."

Maybe that was the truth, but speaking it aloud struck Luken with a startling revelation; he was, quite frankly, a stallion with nothing.

The realization left a bitter taste on his tongue and a throbbing ache in his chest, but he let it slide away to be pondered at a later time. Now, he need to focus on these two individuals in front of him, and hopefully they would allow him back into his home. Maybe, just maybe, if they did, he could start again. Start over.

Maybe this was just what he needed.

Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#5
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
Barely had he finished speaking before more things awoke in the early light, but where the owls slept calmly, safe and content upon their friend's back, this one had not. Sleep-haunted eyes found the duo, but no words were spoken. Perhaps whatever had driven his body into such a state had stolen his words, too; dark patches of sweat were slowly being claimed by frost. Mauja watched him approach in silence. They all had their demons. Mauja struggled with his when he was awake. It seemed Tembovu wrestled his while asleep.

He wondered which would be the most pleasant—to suppress everything when awake, but to twist and turn in sleep, or to at least sleep easy but feel like a nightmare walking.

Useless.

Both options sucked.

So he gave his head a gentle shake, and offered Tembovu a small smile by way of greeting. And thus, their odd formation was settled: three relatively tall stallions standing side by side, facing the glass wall together. Like three newcomers, except none of them were, as it turned out. Mauja stood in the middle, the owls on his back, Tembovu's cold-wet flank brushing against his with each breath. Part of him wanted to ignore this stranger, to bully Tembovu into a glade somewhere and force him to the ground, collapse upon him and sleep tangled up in his bulk and warmth, but politics prevented him. Politics, the occupation of the damned. Mauja was no longer a figure of influence here, but if Tembovu was too riddled with nightmares to deal with this, what choice did he have but to pick up that mantle again, if only for now?

So he listened and thought, rifling through his memories for names he did not find. Destrier was vaguely familiar, like something he might've heard once or twice, but someone he had probably never met. He couldn't place a face to the name, nor an occupation or an alignment. If they had belonged to the World's Edge chances were they were over in the Falls now. "I am Mauja," he simply said at first, before gesturing to the tall man nearly hidden beside him. "And this is Tembovu." By old habit he didn't include the King's title—people would follow by virtue of his blood, not the title he claimed. Still, he hoped the tall man would not be slighted (why would he, though?). It was not like Mauja made any claims to be leader instead of him (maybe just in his stead?). "As for your family, I don't precisely recall Destrier, but the majority of the old herd left for the Hidden Falls—perhaps you would find him there. However," and he paused for a breath, glancing at Tembovu before forging on, "I am certain you would be welcome here, if that is your wish."

One does not have to follow ones parents, after all. We are all free to make our own destinies.

[ Mau was standing next to Luken facing the same direction as him (as he came from outside Helovia and not within the Edge), that's how we ended up in this odd formation. ;D ]
Mauja
the white queen
image credits
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#6
Tembovu
His sleep-riddled mind had resulted in quite the awkward arrangement— three stallions abreast staring at the broken glass. Perhaps it had been because he wanted to shield his moment of weakness, his moment of succumbing to nightmares, behind Mauja’s baroque body. Perhaps it was because he sought the sleek and spotted warmth alongside his rough and sweaty hide. Most likely it was a combination of both reasons. Regardless, he curved his neck to watch the newcomer over the broad, speckled back of his friend, one ear perked to listen while the other swiveled to listen for anything else that might approach the borders.

He nodded his great head in greeting as Mauja introduced him. And any feelings of negligence at not knowing the large, piebald stallion’s father were absolved as he revealed he did not know of ‘Destrier’ either. And, given the long tenure (he assumed… though now realized he did not exactly know how long the man had been in Helovia), he felt that it was, indeed, someone he should know of.

His navy gaze slid to the back of Mauja’s spotted head as he directed Luken towards the Falls, brows marginally raising. They returned to their relaxed state once he issued a welcoming into their own herd. Finally regaining command of his voice, the low rumble follows on the tail of Mauja’s tenor, “As King, I second Mauja’s welcome into the Edge,” there is no rebuke in his voice for his friend withholding his title. But, to the old general, it made sense for those who joined to know the order of command. How else would they know who to alert when invasions or disasters struck?

“Is there a certain path you wish to dedicate your ‘blood and body’ to within the Edge, Luken?” The question was asked as he began to move forward, crossing back into the boundaries of the Edge.
@Luken

Please tag Tembovu.


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