The deer paws at the moist grass, dew flying like diamonds in the moonlight. He tries to feign himself grazing, his dark crowned head lowering with the thought. But he can only snort at the winter grasses. Dropping the interest as soon as it came. For hours he does this. Wandering about in the center of this maze. Waiting. White snipped nose quivers in the mists, snorting his unease, and ears quivering with his fears. His only relief came only once in a while as he would stop, take a deep breath, and look up. Nothing but the moon above moved. And he would tremble and look down again. He should have been here hours ago. He should be here….He should…

The horizon grew lighter, the night was ending, and with it, the deer’s hopes. He now stood by a hedge, beneath its great boughs a wolf hide lay spread, with a crown awaiting its bearer. The deer lay beside the cloak, his pale eyes wet, and then he curled away from the waking world.

”Haldir-“ The dark deer leapt up. His cheeks stained dark but hope lining his rimmed eyes. ”Here!” His desperate call rang out for he could feel the weak quiver of the call, and his heart sank deep. The deer rushed to the open meadow, his eyes searching the morning, but no sound or move came. Haldir’s bark rings out, panicked.

Then the sun breaks the horizon, and the golden light blooms, and he is there. The golden sun.


”Hal-“But it is not as it should be. Black feathers are flying from out of nowhere, fluttering to the earth and blowing away into dust. The tension lining the dark deer grows. No sound comes from the creature letting the feathers fly and the deer trembles. Then, there! A rustle of the mists and an indention in the grasses. With his heart in his throat the deer rushes to the shape in the grass.

When the cloak is pulled back the dark stag can only moan in shared agony. A form of a bay bird shivers as the cloak reveals him. But it a shadow. The illusion can barely hold itself together, the vision shifting, flickering, begging to be let go, begging to end it. Cuts, scrapes, and blood stained the body, and the breath rises gasping, yet shallow. ”Hal-“ And the deer sunk to his knees, his heart still quivering. ”He-….Hen varna?” [She safe?] Came the jagged question to the deer. Rough and broken. ”La gwend, la… forod…”[Yes bonded, yes north] Came the trembling answer, for he had seen the rosen girl turn north and that was all he was asked to do. And then the bay sides heave heavy, and sigh long, not rising for some time.

The sun rose overhead slowly, but the mists shifted, distorting, leaving a pale world in the maze. The deer didn’t notice. His pale eyes saw only the still flickering bay creature. On various cuts a suave was rubbed by the deer’s gentle touch, relieved to see the golden within hiss and groan, knowing it meant he lived. Yet the dark stag could not ask it of his bonded to move or speak. How many nights before this had the golden slept? How many long days of strain did the mountains hold them for? How could he wake his bonded, even just to move him. For months the golden had barely lived, and the cost of freedom was more than he had ever intended.

At midday the Bay creature finally moves. His eyes slowly open like a drunkard, the sea blue within grey and lifeless. His breath grows quick, building, and then holding, before sighing deep. The flickering vision of the bay begins to fade, the dust falling away. But it does not fall away in relief. A cry catches in his throat as feather tremble and sink back into his flesh, and his whole body cringes with pain, until at last the golden. That proud and free golden lay broken and defenseless under the midday sun. And yet so great was his weariness that even about his neck the small token was lost to touch. The metal hawk, given so long ago, awaken, gleaming colder than ice.

Haldir can only watch, helpless. His eyes roll over the cut body, worn from its life. It will recover, but it needed rest, and relief. It needed….An idea came to the dark stag and he turns to the hollow in the hedge. He returns with a small trinket, and with great care only love can allow slips it over the golden’s horns. The circlet slides into place, home again, and a smile rises on the golden’s face. 

"Talk?"

OOC:: Anyone welcome =] He's wounded, but more so just exhausted.Set immediately after his Tingal encounter.

we live like thieves
     kings among men

The sun sat heavily upon it's golden pedestal, draping the earth with warm light and burning away the frozen mists that hung so heavily across the earthen floor. The sky was a frigid expanse of blue, carefully cradling the burning disk that served as representative for the Dragon's Throat. A deep silence was sought between the trunks of trees and stalks of grass, a sort of quiet that would resonate in one's bones and refresh the mind.

A reticence to baptize the soul.

She didn't dare break the silence she had discovered, couldn't bear to slide the knife of sound between the ribs of absence. The blushed pegasus had never been much for spirituality, but here in this forgotten fold of Helovia she could swear that she had found religion. From her lips poured breath yearning for absolution, from her winged sides dripped a craving for something of substance, something more. There was an increasing awareness of her own hoof falls, the lightness of them all at once infuriated and saddened her; it was as if the universe had forgotten the weight that it had placed on her thin shoulders, dismissed the crushing burden of the past.

Yet, she would not dwell in her sadness. Instead, the desert rose embraced the fury that sparked in her chest, opened her battered heart to the familiar feeling of fire sliding through her veins. The anger rushed over her in a sickly sweet wave, her safety blanket and lifelong companion. A bitter smile twisted at her pastel lips and turned her countenance cold. Eyes turned skyward in silent exaltation, she inhaled deep to fuel the inferno of her rage.

There were no hymns sung for the bastard children of whores and she would find no savior here.

A cruel laugh burst forth and shattered her coveted quiet, an act of violence against the machinations of fate. Let them come, let the consequences of her existence pour poison down her throat, let the very essence of the earth crash down upon her in it's spite. Let them shriek and wail and let them choke her with her own venom. There was nothing that existed in the cosmos that could make her a victim again, not a thing in the endless realm of creation that would smother her defiance.

Let them come, let them come, let them come. She would meet them there on her soul-turned-battlefield and she would stand victorious. With all her might, with all that was left of her shredded self, she would rise in spite and she would rise in flames.

She would scream them into dust.

But what was that? The anger that had flooded her heart was diverted for the moment, locked away into her subconscious by twin wraiths. Both horned, an equine and a deer were before her, yet one lay upon the earth with a heaving chest. Eyes narrowing, Orithia approached with not so much as an inkling of caution and broke the silence yet again.

"Only madmen and hierophants grin in the face of agony; tell me, which one are you?"

Oh how that cold metal warmed against his skull. The branches of silver twisting into their familiar place against his golden skin and pure locks. It belonged there, that crown, for there were titles far greater than Lord of the North to be claimed. And now that he had cast away the plastic throne, one of gold and silver awaited him.

Only he wasn’t quite there yet. A slithering voice, laced and tight with judgement echoes in the mists. Her steps sound clear, and unfaltering, though muffled by his own heart still pounding away. At her words though the golden finds humor. Ah how lovely it was. She flung condemnation at him, and there rose in his breast no fire to protect himself. No hot burning temper to silence her doubts of him. Only a cool cold laugh.

Haldir was less humored. The dark stag rose, his eyes growing hard with ferocity. All his hours of agony he would not see repeated if another came forward with weapons unsheathed. Perhaps he was a little over protective of one who less than a few days away was ready to pummel him. Yet then, as now, the dark stag found no blocks in his path to love the gold. It was there, whether he wanted it to be or not. His heart still leaping to his throat for it. So he stood, his head high. Only the golden calls his watchdog off. ”No” The deer looked hurt and confused to the golden figure. Was there something wrong in protecting his bonded? Losing himself in his own worries and thoughts the companion side steps away.

His laughter, haunty and broken, finishes rolling off his gilded tongue as the deer moves aside. From his still smiling lips he lifts his head, body unable to hide the strain it brought. From the corner of his earth eye he spies a figure of white, seeming nothing more than a collection of mists. Had he begun to lose it? Perhaps he was going mad. This brings another chuckle as his head he lets fall back to earth, the silver pressing against the flesh of his poll. “Can’t you guess?” His mood rises, eating away at the tide of pain. Had he really all these seasons forsaken this feeling for a life in the mountains? He must indeed be mad.

Legs flinch, preparing, and then he’s moving. It was the only moment his grin faltered, and then only to twist into a grimace, as his head reaches up again. Muscles protest, and bones moan, but he pulls until he at last sitting up. Head swims with the effort though, and it remains low for a moment. The weight of the crown at his skull is felt once more where it had been so sorely missed, and he edges out the pain again. When he looks again towards the creature, he sees a more solid form. Not just mists? Lucky him. “Now tell me. What are you?” It was said with more grace, but could not hide the effort it was to bring even that small flare forward. He was gaining back ground fast though. For in the end, it wasn’t medicine or even rest he needed, it was this. This unbound reveal. Broken and battered though he may be he was still the golden son, and it gods it felt good to call upon that name again.

"Talk?"

OOC:: You are more than okay dear! =D

we live like thieves
     kings among men

There in that laugh she found winter, frigid and relentless.

It doused the flames that had sprung up in her chest, tamped down the raging inferno that had consumed her vengeful heart. As the smoke coiled up and cradled her lungs, the dove noted the way that his eyes flashed; the silver-crowned child of sunlight was not truly crazed, for there in those honeyed pools did she find a cool calculation. Lips curving into a smirk, the fires of her fury finally fizzled out into nothingness; she would pin another beneath the weight of her vehemence.

It seemed that this smudged illusion of beauty that lay before her wanted a gamble.

The ivory medusa paid no mind to the huffing buck that rose before her, no doubt an answer to the ferocity that emanated from her very bones. No, her coral eyes were pinned to the injured stallion that lay before her, that icy laugh still spilling from curved lips. As the tinkling sound trailed to a stop, the Pegasus couldn't help but wonder at the power of such a laugh; if she were to stand there, unmoving in the path of that frigid chorus of sound, would the frost that so readily coated his voice layer over her? Would she come away from this meeting between strangers dipped in a crystalline gown?

There was no time to muse as the golden stallion struggled to his hooves, the pain that laced his features teasing and tempting the blushed woman to strike. Her temptations, however, gave way to inquisitiveness as the brightly shining stranger straightened to a height that matched her own. If it was at all possible, the woman would be in awe of the defiance in which the man stood. Indeed, he was a cracked and crumbled statue hewn of golden stone, sparkling in a way that rivaled even the sun.

It made her guess at his wounds and their source; were they from a god, jealous of the allure held by a mere mortal, or something far more sinister? Had he inflicted these wounds upon himself, a sort of punishment for the way he glowed so enchantingly, the way he flung his cruel beauty into the face of all things lesser?

But the day's mysteries would remain as such, for the crowned King of Nothing was speaking to her now.

What are you?

Her reply came quickly, a whiplash of words that fell flat upon the dewy grasses without fanfare or ceremony, "A husk, the offer of oblivion, a meaningless member of something striving to be anything." Pastel eyes were flat, yet they refused to waver or blink as she held the golden boy's gaze, as she stepped closer to breathe in his scent and steal the oxygen that hovered so near to his lips. There was a certain dominance that clung to her even in decided neutrality, a sort of animosity that seeped from her soul and into the atmosphere.

Not that she minded. She would not apologize for the blackness that covered her, for it only made her shine brighter in contrast.

It was that subconscious push for dominance that lead her lips to curl, her shoulders to straighten, her eyes to flash with a sort of tantalizing glee. Oh, the golden son wanted to gamble, and she would be more than glad to oblige.


"Kind of you to include me in your misery, little Sun Drop. Care to give me another taste of the wicked creature that dwells in your heart?"

Haldir watched ever cautiously from the shadows. His tongue was bid to silence but his mind still persisted. His hours waiting for the golden to arrive, and those long ones standing by him made his patience thin and his nerves awoken. So as his pale eyes watched the mare come forward, uncaring, yet smirking his mind was already setting against her. How rude could she be to press her advantage? To show no care or concern? It warned him against her intentions, but he was bid silence. So with a bent attitude he remained in the shadows.

The golden was far from being in the shadows. Though coat was dusty, and dried blood stained its usual gleam he truly was embodying his name. The golden son. Ah yes…His mood could not help but shine through the dirt and grim.

Earthen eyes regained the depth of the world as his body caught up from its rising from the dead. Shoulders roll, trying to lift the aches, and weight shifts among his limbs. He managed to escape a little better than H-her. Yet the tiger was fiercer than he had anticipated. Damn bastard he was too. Still it had been with great satisfaction to reveal himself, and to steal the- oh where were they? Earth eyes find two dark shapes in the grass. ”Haldir.” The deer, still grumbling, slips out slightly, taking the things in his mouth and pulling them back to the hide away. He lay them down there, two ram horns, as the golden asked his query.

She was quick, yet dry. His grin twitches with annoyance slightly. She had sounded like more fun when she had first spoke. Pity. Yet though her tone hard, her words still promised …something. “Ah…I do love a good riddle.” Though he wished such a twisted one could be saved for another day. She was after all presenting a very strange puzzle. Seeming nothing but mists and roses, she spoke and acted like a damned. And her titles…His thoughts were cut short as she stepped up.

Harks flick pointed back, too amused to be pinned, but not enjoying her forwardness. However, his eyes met hers, and did not back down from the challenge she issued in her stare (though his body was beginning to bed for relief). His cold looks had eased though to near nothing, or amusement if anything. For though he found her too bold, he also found the same curious. What crowns did she hold to claim her domination? What claim did she carry to her stare? Was one of land, skill, or name? Or nothing. Nothing but some dark held soul.

Still, though curious, he did not enjoy the close company. For years now few had come so boldly close, and the golden had grown used to the aura of untouchability about him. To have a stranger challenge it made his tasseled tail twitch in agitation. So as she stared into his earth eyes, her hot breath rolling and mingling into his, the crowned head tilted slightly, questioning. And she answered it.

One hark comes forward, listening. Sun drop? A snort of disgust rolls out. It was not the title he preferred. Still her proposition came at last, yet he hesitated for a second. He face remaining still. His tongue was as quick as her, breaking her speech. “Well misery does love company sweetheart.” He left the rest of her words to hoover for a moment. What did this strange child mean? Did she seek more of a lovely chat? Or did she refer to the wounds across his back? Certainly he was in no shape for the latter.

Haldir feels the golden’s concerns, and his own mind nudges the golden again. Worry lacing hidden features. Still, he is called off. ”No.” The stag’s dark ears pin back, and he looks to find a distraction for his frustration. Yet the golden was still unsure. So the golden plays it off. “Wicked creature in my heart?” His brow raises, yet his tone reveals the sarcasm. “Why what ever could you mean…” His smile raises too, unable to contain itself. “Darling, I threw out that damned organ long ago.” Yet the tease strikes closer to home than he’d wished. The golden’s face, so carefully trained does not waver, but inside he hesitates. He wish he could have thrown it out. Perhaps today would have played out much differently. Perhaps he…”Hota-“ A strong thwack of his tail against his hip silences the deer (who had been unable to find a distraction and instead kept listening). ”Dîn!” [Silence] Came his hiss to the deer…and to his own heart’s whispers.

He had long been able to keep its voice silent, yet something…or someone one, was awakening it.


"Talk?"

OOC:: You are more than okay dear! =D

we live like thieves
     kings among men

She watched the telltale signs of irritation as they rolled from him, marking them like so many tallies in her head.

An ear tilted back, a twitch of that prehensile tail, a disgusted snort.
One, two, three, and she was still standing uninjured before him.

How long would that sun-touched physique last before his patience evaporated?

His words dripped honey from sooty lips, causing her own blushed pair to stretch ever wider in response; though this grin was not borne on the back of happiness, only the risk of injury and the hint of something far more sinister proved to be her motivation here. A pet name was used as a stand-in for her true identity and for this, the ivory dove was delighted; anonymity was a fragile and unpredictable thing and she craved the loss of control that sometimes shared it's breath.

The winged child listened aptly as his words continued to flow in a sickly sweet semblance of sarcasm, each syllable dropping to the earth accompanied by the promise of some risky endeavor. Or at least that's what she told herself. There was a sudden thwacking sound as the golden strangers' tail met his side and Orithia found herself staring at him quizzically; maybe the wounds that laced his frame really were self-inflicted. She didn't give herself time to think on that possibility, however, before sidestepping the horned stallion and taking a small stroll about him.

There wasn't much flair or grandeur to the mare's movements, but each step remained a performance; she liked to pretend she was a bit of a ringleader in times such as these, poking and prodding whatever beast out of their slumber just for the thrill. What would she find lying dormant within this glowing creature? A lion or a mouse? Finishing her lap, she assessed him once more, the secretive grin that played over her features not moving an inch. What else could she say to this man cloaked in mystery and his own blood? What would rile him into action? Would he even rise to the bait that she laid before him?

She quirked a brow and let the silence sink in, carefully considering her words before tossing them into the breeze that had began to push at the surrounding mists, "A fine choice, I like to think hearts are more of an accessory." Her voice dropped in pitch as her eyes rested upon the crown that rested so delicately between curved ears, "Where is your kingdom, dear Prince? Shouldn't they be rushing to relieve you of your wounds? Or are you a king of nothing just like the rest of us?"

What had started out as enjoyable was quickly going downhill. Not only would his mind, trapped in some post stress cycle, not relinquish the thoughts of rosen maidens and tigers, but his head swam every moment as his heart struggled to pump what little blood was left up to its heights. Yet he could not break her gaze. There might have been much that was broken in him, but the pride was ever so powerful still. Gratefully though, she steps past, and it was hard to hide the slight drop in his head, or the longer exhale.

Steps sound behind him, and he’s aware of her track. Tasseled tail flicks lightly again his irritation, but he makes no other move. Perhaps it was his solidarity and pride, letting her see he cared not to be under her gaze and would not shrink beneath it. Or more likely it was that any move would reveal just how tedious his position was. Regardless of why, the sinking suspicion was coming down that this mare of the mists was something dark indeed, laying traps and playing with daggers. That was usually his part, and he did not enjoy the roles being reversed. Of course, what did he expect? Wounded, worn, and battered, he must indeed look god awful.

She comes up the other side and still the golden does not move to break the silence or scene. She stops though, grinning like the mad woman he was coming to know her for, and arching a brow. For her agreement she gains only a small laugh, pale and shallow. Any more was asking now too much. Yet then she pushes on, her gaze setting solid on him once more. Kingdom? Oh dear.

He raises a brow, the only ploy he can do to buy time. She wanted a question to corner him? Well that did it. Still at least prince was better than sundrop. What to say though? A lie or a tease? Perhaps even an inkling of the truth? “There’s more to rule over than a herd land, love.” His grin rises back for his reply, the weariness not allowing him to hide his smugness.

Had it been any other day he might have shown the woman just what powers this crown bestowed. Yet to fall to the floor for the weight of that ‘power’ might undermine his point. Even standing here was pulling ever reserve. “And worry not princess, there’s no competition for you being my nurse.” He doubted that was on her mind, but the tease felt quiet good nonetheless. “Cursed names rarely get such luxuries.” It is a whisper, for his lungs and chest were straining. And though his body willed it not, his head dropped slightly as the world began to spin, and his knees shivered. But he wasn’t out of the count just yet. “I’m sure you know as well as I.” Surely one who floated around this world such as she did not always find beds of roses awaiting her.



"Talk?"

OOC:: You are more than okay dear! =D

we live like thieves
     kings among men

The secretive grin that had been toying with the mare's pink lips had began to unfurl, blossoming over her features in the only display of pleasure the mare would admit to. His quirked brow, so cheeky for one so feeble, spoke lengths of what he thought of the winged mare before him. Despite what she assumed was a negative review, the lass couldn't help but be amused by his seemingly annoyed amusement of her.

Reciprocal amusement; the new phenomenon.

While his words brought forth a breathy laugh and a moment of charmed silence, the mare couldn't help but notice the way his knees shook, the way his head hung, the labored breathing that whistled through threadbare lungs. She told herself that she was merely humoring him; that no! Of course she wasn't feeling anything akin to empathy for what seemed to be a golden brat and overgrown boy. Eyes narrowing to slits as the grin dropped from her face, Orithia took a single step closer to the horned stag, words upon her lips falling to the earthen floor out of mere habit.

"Of course luxuries do not deign to ally themselves with our malign stars. We have only ourselves and what the wretched fates have in store." There was a pause as she lowered her head to his level, looking him square in the eye with a gaze direct and unfettered, "I would be a wretched nurse, you know this as well as I, noble Prince." Her reply was absentminded and mumbled, yet a small smirk twisted at her mouth.

Fine. Fine. Helovia is turning it's angry denizens soft.


With a sudden huff, the mare straightened, pupilless eyes cast down at the injured stallion in concern veiled as distaste. A stomp of a hoof to catch his attention, a purposeful swivel toward the way she had come, and a sharp stare all aligned to create the perfect image of a furious caretaker scolding their mischievous charge.

"No further questions. I am no princess and you are no prince. You are injured and require medical attention - if you follow me, I will maintain that you are unharmed and cared for. Whatever you intend to rule over, you won't make much progress if you're dead."

Though the golden’s strength was ever failing, his humor was not. He had missed such carefree banter, and the smirking mutual grins. Too much lately they had been nothing but anger and bent up frustrations. To let it all go, and feel the pure uncaring ease return back to him was just so….refreshing. It kept him from falling…for a while.

Her words as she stepped even closer run through his ears untouched by his mind. It may have been enjoyable, and it may have given him some strength, but it was all very thin. Though as she leveled to his eyes, they earth gaze focuses. Her note, though seemingly the most serious they had yet spoken, brought another chuckle to him. Well she may be a terrible nurse, but she was making him feel better. Who knew feeling better and being better were so different. Besides, the nicknames were getting ever better. Noble prince. Perhaps it was a bit of a stretch but he would take all the crowns he could get.

In this world he drifted, woken only by the stomp of her hoof. The gold jerks up, coming to some attention. Her sudden movement though gives his head a spin, or was the world just spinning? Was she blurring out…or? Though he would have found them again humorous, her gazes were missed by him. She scolds, and he catches her words mostly, but it’s gone much farther downhill since the beginning. As if to confirm it, instead of answering her right away, the golden’s body wavers then lowers back down to earth.

He at least managed it with some final last lines of grace and did not crash to the floor, but still it was a moment before he spoke. Being back on the ground though let more blood and though go back to his head. So when he looked back to her, he was once again more focused, and the humored voice was regained. “Thanks for the offer darling, but I don’t plan to die today, nor playing tourist.” His tasseled tail curled round him and his body shifted slightly, letting it rest more. “Sorry to disappoint angel.” And he sort of meant it…he quite liked her company. Haldir, hanging by in the shadows still looked on with concern, though no longer at the stranger. In fact, given her suggestion at a helping hand, he was quite liking her.

The gold though, was not in the luxury to follow. But he also, as he had said did not see the grim reaper behind her shoulder. He looked worse than he was, and the blood loss did cause his lightheadedness, and weak strength, but he would make it through the day and night, especially with Haldir and….”Would be a shame though to let a little half deadness ruin good company though….”As the words trailed off his head tilted. The truth is after months of just wanting to be alone, he quite liked talking to someone. Feeling the familiar rise and fall of humor and tease. It was a more powerful cure than any healer could dream up.


"Talk?"

OOC::

we live like thieves
     kings among men