| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 |
| Whit |
06-15-2012, 05:29 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-27-2012, 12:48 AM by Ázzuen.)
It would have been unusual for the stallion to not feel sad following his brother’s departure. Though he wore a strong façade when with his family, he could not help but get carried away with his grief when they were not nearby. Today he was overwhelmed, the heat of the day having piqued his temper a bit, and he left this post in the Dragon’s Throat to simply, get away. He didn’t want others to suffer his dark, potentially foul mood, so once he freed himself from his duties along the borders of his home, he flew, hard and fast. It was like he was punishing himself, with the Sun beating down upon his raven hide, he was sweating even before he began his speedy flight to lands that he had never ventured to before. It was no wonder he was drawn to them, for they held the calls of those who had passed, and maybe the stallion hoped that he would hear his brother’s voice amongst them once more.
Gone! Voltaic was gone, why? Why did he have to die?
“WHY?” the shout echoed across the skies, and angry tears burned down his cheekbones. The brute landed roughly in the midst of the Marsh, surprised at the dryness of the lands that were normally so muddy. Wings were held lifted from his sides, trying to capture any memories of a breeze to cool him. But no such thing existed today, and the stallion gnashed his teeth in frustration at the fact. Ears were plastered against his skull, and his hard hooves pounded against the earth beneath him as he pawed his anger out. He tried to soothe himself with thoughts of his loved ones, thoughts of his daughter and beloved mate, but it was difficult to see past the haze of grief-inspired frustration. With his eyes shut, he concentrated on their faces, on Cirrus and Cassiopeia, who were safe, at least, in the Dragon’s Throat, and he willed the tension of his temper to leave him be.
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| Up For Adoption |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15.3 :: Eight |
| Adoptable |
"Because death is inevitable, my friend."
Vayu had not meant to intrude on the black stallion's mourning; he simply had the same idea. The palomino had flown to the marsh in hopes of finding some respite from the despicable heat, and instead was met with dissatisfying, dried mud, and humidity in the air. Still, it was better than many other regions of Helovia, save perhaps the Desert - ironic, no? In the depths of the Throat, water remained plentiful. Vayu snorted in dry amusement. The Sun God's wrath was hurting all except the ones who toppled his regime, the ones who had killed his oracle here on earth.
Ra. Vayu's oldest friend was dead, and he still could not wrap his mind around it, the same way he could never understand what had possessed the pale stallion and turned him into a zealot in the first place. All say he had paced through the dried marshes, contemplating the lion's fall. Pieces of a puzzle that he had long been trying to construct were falling into place within his mind, curious threads weaving a complicated puzzle of a stallion tormented by a dark secret. What the secret was, Vayu could not yet say; he had known for some time now that his friend was plagued by it, but the golden stallion was not astute enough to determine its nature. Instead, he had been forced to watch helplessly as Ra succumbed to madness, maintaining a cheerful face and the hopeful outlook that everything would be better someday.
It did not get better. And now Ra was dead.
The shout of the dark stallion echoed through the marshes, so full of anguish that it sent a shudder through Vayu's golden form. Despite his own torment, or perhaps because of it, the stallion sought out the source of the voice, following the echoing cry to its origin and stopping a wingspan away from the stranger. Yet it was not a stranger - it was one of the invaders. Vayu eyed the black brute with wariness as a name floated to the forefront of his mind. Azzuen, he recalled, now general of the Throat. Was it his brother who died, stealing Ra's last breath? The pegasus was not positive, but based on the dreadlocked general's countenance, it seemed a good guess.
Vayu rustled his wings loudly, hoping to alert Azzuen to his presence without startling the stallion. "Death is inevitable," he repeated, ears laid back in sorrow and displeasure. He did not approach, did not dare come closer; he only watched through two-toned eyes, sadly, sympathetically, and if he were to be completely honest, a little angrily. If only they had stayed away, these Tuuli, then none of this would have happened. Neither lion nor pegasus would be dead; the drought would not plague the land; neither stallion would be here, now, drowning in emotion they could not escape.
| Helovian Ancient |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17 hh :: Ageless |
| Admin |
06-18-2012, 03:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-18-2012, 04:53 PM by God of the Sun.)
I'll never see any side of heaven
I'll walk for miles through a blazin' hell
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Vayu. A once loyal follower of the faithful servant Ra. Vayu. A stallion held in high esteem by the God of the Sun. Death is inevitable. Oh death, none can excel. The golden God followed through the marshes, careful to keep the strength of his flaming figure to a minimum. The dried grasses and trees here would catch quickly and spread wildly. He had no intention of hurting the faithful Vayu.
Another. An interloper. One who toppled his once glorious regime here on earth. Dark. The God of the Sun narrowed his eyes angrily and followed the two. Vayu, ever wise, even in the disappearance of his leader, made the God of the Sun proud.
Silently and carefully, two odd qualities for the Sun God, he approached Vayu, standing at his back in a silent but potent message. He would stand by those who honored his name. Two, twisted horns spiraled from his brow proudly, and the deep, golden eyes stared at Azzuen with barely contained rage.
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 |
| Whit |
06-20-2012, 02:23 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-27-2012, 12:48 AM by Ázzuen.)
Words were spoken, they bashed against his ear canals like bare bones banging tunelessly on a drum. He winced, and daring to open his eyes a crack, the stallion saw the gleaming, golden winged stallion nearby. His own eyes were yellow, bright and strange, a stark electric current amongst his charred frame and messed forelock. What was done was done, the battle had been waged and the only fight actually fought resulted in death of the warriors on both sides. Azzuen had no care for this Ra, just as Vayu would have no care for his brother, but the words Vayu spoke were harsh, ruthless, and did nothing to soothe the stallion’s already vexed temperament, even if his now herdmate spoke them with the means of developing comradely acquaintances with himself. Had the Tuuli done nothing at all, what would have become of the lands – would they have been driven into ruin? Did the Pegasus band merely accelerate the decay that was already occurring?
Azzuen liked to comfort himself with that thought.
And then another came, one who smelt strange, different. Instinctively Azzuen activated his magic to enhance his sense of smell, trying to decide who or what this figure was. It took more effort than usual, but he got there soon enough, and openly inhaled the atmosphere nearby to get a better sampling of the scent. So much could be interpreted by scent, and Azzuen had become an expert at divulging the secrets of many a person’s aroma. But this one surprised him, for it smelt like the Dragon’s Throat, it reminded him of fire, it made him think of the weight of the sun’s rays bearing down upon his back when he flew across he lands. Odd, yellow eyes stared piercingly at the horned, winged brute who stood by Vayu, squinting slightly against the palomino pair who gleamed so brilliantly in the day’s oppressive heat. Though Azzuen was not an Atheist, he had been brought up with different Gods, so naturally it took him a moment to understand that he was standing in the presence of one of Helovia’s gods.
The Tuuli did not worship, each individual was free to decide for themselves what path of righteousness they would take. The lands of the Throat was blessed by the Sun God – and suddenly it all fell into place for Azzuen. Ra, that accursed lion, he led the Order, the Order of the Sun. Oh shit, and we destroyed him, we destroyed the Order, and now.. He didn’t need to finish his thoughts, instead he felt his knees crumple as the realisation struck him. It is our fault, this drought, our fault.. And yet they were the ones whose lands remained only slightly warmer than a normal summer’s day, their lands still grew juicy grasses and had plentiful water. It didn’t make sense to the Pegasus – why punish the rest of the world and spare the lands were the supposed traitors rested? The question resounded in his cranium before he could control it, and he was now certain that the Sun God would have heard it.
Tears burned behind his eyes, thought they evaporated as soon as they tried to drip from his eyelids. He bowed his head, his knees still scraping the ground, terrified and confused for what might be in store for them all.
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