the Rift


[OPEN] 808's and Bass Drum-Kick

Roskuld the Sparklight Posts: 424
World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE
Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric Smithers
#1

So…morning came again.

I woke up and laid there for a while, I guess because—I could. I got up—but stretched and I took my time doing it, and I farted once or twice and that was cool, too, I guess. Chico had been lying beside me, so when I left that little nest we had made and I left his whole left side exposed to the bitter morning cold, he woke up cussin’ at me (Look, bitch—). And that was normal too, I guess.

So then I was grazing and my back was covered in grass and I wasn’t really givin’ a shit cuz—well, I didn’t need to, I guess. And eventually Cheek stopped being mad at me and got up (stretchin’, stretchin’) and he shot out passed me, all white mane and grey fur and flapping wings as he ran through the frost-covered field. And I thought—fuck it—and bolted after him, snorting and bucking and farting again (and vaguely wondering if Tembovu was gonna get pissed with me farting all over the place) and racing Cheek towards--wherever. Cuz we were free to do that.

Something was happening and it was sitting weird with the both of us, but it didn’t feel bad either. It was this steady lessening of a—thing, I dunno what, but the less of it there was, the easier it was to wake up in the morning, and stretch, and fart, and breathe a little. And I guess that meant we were getting used to living in a herd.

Neither of us was sold on the idea yet. I kept asking Cheek his thoughts and he’d just sigh or lick his nuts or whatever and ignore me until the subject changed (No trust this place). He’d been like that since the herd meeting, since that one time he had been aggravated by the white Queen for no reason (Important reason). And he had dropped like I told him—but I could tell, even if he refused to say to me, that it was still a thing he was chewing on.

(No more chewing. I remember face now.)

(No trust.)

Whatever he was feeling, it didn’t stop him from chillin’ like a straight villain all up in this place. And yeah, I caught the bug too, the slow realization that there wasn’t…quite…anything for me to do at the moment. No mysterious murderer to find, no feral gods on the loose, no ancient threats. Okay, I still had to protect the world or whatever (whatever that meant) but it was clear I was doing something wrong. Living on the fringes, keeping my nose too far out of everyone’s business. How the hell was I supposed to save everyone’s asses if I kept avoiding them? So yeah—maybe there was virtue to staying in a herd. And I guess that’s why Cheek was letting me chew on the idea some more.

(Not this one.)

We kept chasing each other for a little while—not really going anywhere, not really running from anything. Instead of disappearing like it was supposed to, the morning mist just got even thicker than the shit already was, but that didn’t stop Cheek from egging me on, flippin’ the bird, anything to get me to chase him and pound my ass around the place.

It wasn’t until the bastard tried to lead me off a fuckin’ cliff face that I pumped the brakes, skidding to a stop at the very edge of a sheer drop. The Edge of the world. The asshole had taken flight after taking the jump, and I hadn’t seen him do it cuz of the damn mist. He was laughing about it too, the jerk.

When gonna fly?

My breath was huffing, my sides heaving as I tried and failed to see his soaring shadow over the churning, icy sea. One day, I ‘unno, I said dismissively. I rocked back on a hoof, taking a minute to just…chill, I guess, cool my jets while I looked out over the end of the world, wondering what it meant if I couldn’t see it clearly through all this goddamned mist.  


Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.
♥♥ kate has it going on



Please tag ROSKULD in every reply!

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
#2
He had toyed with the idea. It had been a whisper in the back of his mind for a little while— since the bright green, accusing eyes of Alysanne had told him he couldn’t afford to lose control. That he wasn’t allowed a moment of weakness. That he must always act like a King. Regency was relatively new to the Elephant. He had led soldiers— but there was no decorum there. You simply trained, planned, and tried to not get them killed. Beyond that, he was his own man (free to plot and devise the fall of an Empire). But, with Kingship, apparently more was expected.

So the idea had been whispered to life, slowly growing and solidifying, until it became its own entity: he needed to control his magic. Not the transformation magic he had discovered; no, that magic didn’t feel as chaotic and dangerous as the raging magma-elephant that burst from his chest. The latter magic had been devastating when he could not control it… He did not want to relive the burned bodies of any he cared about.

And so, in the earliest parts of dawn, he delved into the depths of his chest. Slowly breaking through the icy fear that held it in a vice-like grip (part of him wondered if he shouldn’t just leave it alone; it seemed dormant beneath the cold despair). But, carefully recollecting snippets of memories (Rexanna darting away from him at the Giving Tree, Alysanne’s accusatory shouts, Mauja’s absence at the meeting)— nothing so drastic as to elicit outright rage— he felt the cold bands begin to fall away, heat returning to his chest.

He had stationed Mbwene behind him, and she absently twirled her trunk in his tail. There, he figured, she would be safe, and he could absorb any explosion before harm befell her. He stared over the cliffs; uncertain if it was brilliance or folly to come here to practice. Part of him reasoned that the molten elephant would charge over the cliffs, harming no one. Another part of him grimly recognized that if the elephant backed him against the cliffs, then there would be no where to run.

He snorted as his attention wavered, and he felt the the heat suddenly, explosively expand in his breast, pectorals glowing red-hot. Mbwene trumpeted uncertainly, unused to the strange feeling that rippled through their bond. It was so hot, so angry.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped embraced the anger, the memories— and an elephant screamed in his skull and Mbwene trumpeted in fright; the molten beast of flames and fury erupting from his chest and charging, trunk held up and fiery eyes glowering in rage.

But it toppled over the cliff before it could even find a target, leaving a trailed of melted ice and burning smell behind it.

He snorted and pounded his front hooves in victory, the white cliffs shaking beneath his weight; but his triumph is cut short as suddenly a small being burst out of the trees on the heels of the fiery elephant, followed closely by a second form. The first went over the cliffs, the second skidded to a halt.

He gave a short bellow of warning, desperately calling for cold control over his magic… But his chest was hot, still glowing as his rage and power were close to the surface— ready and easy to sink into. He felt the trumpets shake his skull. It was hotter, growing— teeth clenched and creaked as, with herculean effort, he forced the heat smaller and deeper into his breast. But it was still there, flames licking up his ribs.

He snorted, as recognition hit his navy blue eyes. “Roskuld?” His low voice was hoarse from exhaustion, but his eyes were snapping with intensity. She and Chico had nearly been incinerated, “You should take care near the cliffs.” His sides, darkened with sweat despite the chill, moved with tired breaths, “What are you—” but his question was cut off by the shrill, insistent trumpeting of Mbwene, who abanonded her shelter of his black tail, barging through his thick legs with trunk outstretched towards the flying Chico.

Flapping ears and bright eyes indicated that she wanted to be flying, as Chico was. Until her stubby legs hit the edge of the world, and she looked down— abruptly her trumpet changed to a squeak and she turned on heel, bolting beneath the barrel of Roskuld. It was a long drop from the cliffs.
Tembovu
you thought you could outrun the world
image & coding

@Roskuld He was trying to control his magmaphant magic, so Ros has got a frazzled Tembo on her hooves.
And I'm fine with Ros or Chico busting in whenever, despite how I wrote it! :D

Please tag Tembovu.

Roskuld the Sparklight Posts: 424
World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE
Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric Smithers
#3

*“Roskuld?”*

I turned around way too fast.

It ain’t even like he calls me “Roskuld” anyway; my name was always Elding to him. So really, yeah, I dunno why I was getting so excited for. Maybe it was just hearing a deep male voice calling me by my name (knowing me—) that gave me pause, that made me yank my head around and forget the mist-thinking. It was just Tem, though.

(Just Tem. Okay that sounded assholeish, lemme fix that—)

It was the King coming to see me, Tembovu, remembering his name cuz it seemed important that I had to. Yo,” I said, eyeing him with doubt as he rolled up on me. He was breathing heavier than I expected, and I saw how ruffled his winter’s coat was, which was strange cuz it was cold as shit and the mist would cool you off before you worked up a good sweat (I tried once, believe me). So the immediate question was what the fuck he had been doing moments before that made him look like a fucked-up cactus.

His lil’ shortstack  (elephant) came barreling towards the cliffs, her big ears flapping like mad—and I realized she hadn’t been running for me, but was going for Cheek, who was roaring happily somewhere out in the mists, I don’t fucking know, but he could see through our bond that Maybelle (Mbwene) okay whatever fuck Mbwene was coming to see him in her own way. Or maybe not, since I guess those bigass ears of hers aren’t good for flying, and after seeing the teeth so far down below she ran under me instead, causing all sorts of jealous shit to flow from Chico (ha).

I smiled tightly down at the grey mass trembling beneath me. “I got ya,” I told her, dipping down to touch the edge of her flappy ear before I turned back to Tembovu. “I was jus’…I ‘unno, lookin’ around,” I shrugged; it was super casual for me to just kinda…stand there, explaining my unexplainable shit, know there was a world of emptiness behind me. “I don’t know a lot about this place…”

I don’t think he’d get the hint—that this was something that maybe I was supposed to know about, but didn’t, cuz I suck. “Kinda curious what the Moon God’s herd would be like, I guess,” I muttered, an edge I hadn’t expected creeping in my voice—but again, I wasn’t sure if he was gonna know anything about that.

Cheek came, finally, cuz I guess he realized it wasn’t really effective to show off in the air if no one can see him fly in the mists. So he swooped low over me (turd) and flapped down to the grass, zpsnk!ing into his fluffiest of forms as soon as he touched earth. I dunno how, but he learned how to smile with his eyes in every form he took, and he was certainly cheesing hard at Maybelline (Mbwene) Maryweather as he waddled his way towards her round greyness. For snuggles I guess. I dunno.

Wish they’d get a room, though, instead of doing this under me. Egh.

I cocked a brow at Tembovu, wondering if my question was rude (or impertinent if you wanna be fancy) and deciding to ask it anyway cuz I’m impertinent. “Why you so sweaty for?” I shot at him bluntly, cuz the fire before me had burned out deep in the mists where I couldn’t see (and goddammit I think that’s a metaphor).



[I hope it's not PP to assume Temb's a little sweaty! D:]

Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.
♥♥ kate has it going on



Please tag ROSKULD in every reply!

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
#4
“Yo.” The casual, if uncertain, greeting caused the edges of his worry-lined muzzle to turn up, easing some of the strain and shadows out of his black-marked face. His hide rippled, the sweat dripping and drying in the brisk, winter wind, eyes flicking down to watch Mbwene and Chico beneath the electric, bold mare.

Mbwene chuffed softly as the woman’s ashen muzzle gently touched her infant ear, bright blue eyes leaving Chico’s form that dove in and out of the mist to look up at the strange pupils of the Sparklight. Her small trunk reached out, to reciprocate in kind— and to investigate the long tendrils of hair ending in electric blue that fell from Roskuld’s forelock and danced around her face. But her attention was returning to the Elephant, so Mbwene’s returned to Chico.

Dark blue eyes raised as black and white face turned back to him. His hard breaths were slowly abating, and his dread diminished as the warmth in his chest reduced to a smolder— active flames of his magic dying to coals. Was it controlled?

Ears swing towards her as she spoke, his head cocking slightly in confusion. She knew nothing of the Edge, and yet she had nearly been Queen here? Mauja had thrown regency at her hooves, and yet she did not seek him out at their borders? His brow furrowed slightly— this woman was a complex conundrum belied by her plain, no-nonsense speech.

A lopsided grin began to spread in response to the sharpness in her voice as she reference the Moon. “We do not practice sacrifice or carry out cult practices, if that is what you were wondering, Ros,” a warm humor crept into his rumble and into his eyes. For all the dark power (the murders) of the Moon, the Edge was simply a herd of acceptance and autonomy.

Mbwene squeaked a greeting to Chico as he began to land on the cliffs, only to be interrupted by a surprised trumpet as he changed into another form entirely. Gone was the stinger, the wings, the horn, the mane. Instead, a black and white mass of fluff bounded towards her. She took a half-step backwards further beneath Ros, bright eyes wide and ears out, flapping in uncertainty.

But the smiling, familiar eyes of the skunk halted her backward shuffle. She snorted questioningly at his approach, but still reached out her trunk in greeting— and the explore the soft-looking fur of Chico’s new form.

“He changes?” Tembovu put a voice to the mixture of surprise and alarm that billowed through his bond with the elephant calf. But then a question was turned on him— bluntly asked without pretense. As if in reply to her question, head and light flashed once in his chest; but quickly, fiercely, he wrapped his power in icy, fearful constraints.

“I’ve a power— a magic— a destructive one that I cannot always control. I was attempting to gain mastery of it, but it’s harder than I thought,” a low sigh escaped his nostrils, “But being exhausted after such practice is better than having molten elephants run amok.” The last was said almost to himself, breath finally returning to normal as the sweat-darkened patches began to lighten from his thick winter coat.

He paused, eyes leaving the lighting bolt horn to gaze over the cliffs, where the magmaphant in question had plunged over and down. “So, how do you find the Edge?” His question was nearly absentminded, until his navy eyes (now relaxed and calm) returned to her face and intently studied it as he waited an answer.
Tembovu
you thought you could outrun the world
image & coding

@Roskuld

Please tag Tembovu.

Roskuld the Sparklight Posts: 424
World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE
Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric Smithers
#5

*”We do not practice sacrifice or carry out cult practices, if that is what you were wondering, Ros.”*

I was laughing before I knew it was coming out, a short, hard bark of it leaping from my jaw. “Well okay,” I said with an exaggerated shrug, “but it ain’t like I knew that before I came here, y’know?” It was a weird way to diffuse a situation that could’ve combusted and exploded in both our faces—but Tembovu found a way to break the ice and make a gesture all at the same time. That we could be friends.

Aw yeah, there we go, that’s the shit. I could feel a swelling in Cheek’s ego as Mayberry (You not trying) (Nah not really) hesitated in front of him, intimidated by his sudden change. It never failed to get him off; he just loved unnerving and mesmerizing people with a power that was so totally natural, the easiest thing he could do in the world. He kept trundling up to her, letting her thick, proby trunk touch all over his floof while he waddled his way to her leg, covering it with heat and a hug. Blegh. Too cutesie. (Stop bein jelly).

It was weird to try and straddle the two companions beneath me, but I was feeling protective I guess, so it ain’t like I was pushing them out from under me. I shrugged again when Tembovu voiced his own surprise with Chico’s power (giving him yet another ego stroke down his back). “Eh,” I said dismissively—as though this shit was no biggie at all (and honestly it wasn’t anymore), “he’s been able to do it ever since he was born…not like he used to, though, he only got a few bodies he can jump into right now. S’got something to do with him being a raghara—“

(—rougarou—)

“—a rougarou,” I corrected myself without skipping a beat.  Which still honestly sounded like some fake shit to me. But Chico clung to the information anyways, so I guess I was rolling with it until further notice.

The King was starting to look a little calmer, an inch less frazzled than he had when he had first rolled up on me—but he was still explaining the shit to me, which he ain’t even had to do, like I had any right to his business. Which impressed me in its own way, the fact he was telling me—and also what he was telling me, too. Trying to make light out of something that sounded like it could do a bunch of damage if you wanted it to; something that made him sweaty and ragged whenever he tried to control it. The fact he was trying to control it was enough to make my brow rise, impressed—not a bad choice for a King I guess.

I didn’t dwell on the other part—the part that it was a thing that needed controlled. He was trying, clearly trying, and I can respect that anyway.

“Have you…made any progress?” I asked, as his eyes turned to the mist off the cliffs. I followed his gaze, back to a space that was obscure and uncertain, one that was guaranteed to be full of danger if you let it be. It was still a metaphor, I just wasn’t sure what.

He asked me how I found the Edge—and I didn’t look at him when I answered, my eyes still fixed on the mist, on what it could mean. “S’nice,” I said, carefully, weighing the words and how I could say them without bringing offence. “It’s…quieter than I expected. Peaceful. Y’all are tight with each other, it looks like.” But it ain’t for me. I wasn’t sure how I was gonna tell him that, after living in his space for so long. So I cast for something quick to shift the topic, cuz I didn’t wanna keep treading in that territory. “How’s Lee?”

Well shit fuck yeah that made a whole buncha sense way to fucking go Ros. I sucked in my lips as soon as his name had slipped from them, unchecked and impulsive after thinking of a family in which I didn’t belong. “I mean—he—“ I stammered, trying to fix it, cuz I doubted he would know who I was talking about, “How’s Mow-ya?

My whole demeanor had changed from something fond and hesitant—asking after a friend—into a hard, metal brace. I couldn’t get rid of it, that bitter sneer that accompanied that name. I couldn’t help it; I thought that name was ugly and I hated it for reasons I didn’t understand.




Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.
♥♥ kate has it going on



Please tag ROSKULD in every reply!

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
The pride (smug pride) in Chico’s face as Tembovu asked after his shifting ability drew a snort that bordered on a trumpet from Mbwene. Her trunk reached out, trying to deftly grab his tiny, furry ear and tugging (somewhat gently, but firm enough to make her displeasure at his smugness known). Bright blue eyes narrowed slightly, ears out and waving a warning, before she scooted backwards, away from the boastful ’rougarou’, and started back towards her own bonded. But not without attempting a gentle touch against Ros’s forelimb. Her tail twitched purposefully in her (stomping) walk back toward the King.

Tembovu watched this with amusement, further relaxing in the face of Ros’s bark of laughter. His hips slanted, a thick hind leg cocked slightly as his thick tail swirled in the cold, ocean breeze. His liquid, navy gaze drifted back to Ros as she asked about his control, “Today is the first time I’ve used it since—“ since I burned Mauja, but those words were replaced with, “—since I lost control and injured others… But yes, I made progress,” the shadows framed the edges of face as small lines around his mouth and eyes. But his navy pools remained calm and soft.

Ros’s electric eyes remained in the ephemeral mist that hung over the cliffs as she answered his question. He, therefore, allowed his eyes to closely study the profile of her face as she answered, gaze following the sharp line of black and white that skated along her cheek. It was a study he committed to those who lived within the Edge— to know and see them. To pull them into his mind, so that he would recognize and—

”How’s Lee?”

The blurted question was perplexing. “Lee?” The question was out of his mouth, speaking over her stammers. Though he heard her exaggerated ”Mow-ya” just fine. He would always hear that name, no matter how quietly or haltingly spoken around him.

Just as Ros’s demeanor shifted from casual to sneering stiffness, the Elephant King’s stance morphed to rigidity. Mbwene betrayed the sudden pulse of anger through their bond with a short, belligerent trumpet. “Mauja is—“ he paused, wondering just how to answer this question. “He is a different man than what I thought. But I still hold him as a friend,” did he? or was that political-speak? “Though, I think, he needs a different friend than I, right now, to help him sort his mind. I cannot be what he needs.” His cryptic, yet still forthcoming, answer ended on a low murmur, ears tilted backwards and eyes casted down.

“Why do you call him Lee?” his last words were a question, halfheartedly asked beneath the sea of grief and anger that roiled in his head.
Tembovu
you thought you could outrun the world
image & coding

ooc| Have Mbwene's ear-pinch work or not! And I wrote her as walking away, but he can interrupt her or PP or whatever ;) @Roskuld

Please tag Tembovu.

Roskuld the Sparklight Posts: 424
World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE
Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric Smithers
#7

See—the thing is, even though Mulberry had given a little tug-tug on Cheek’s ear to try an’ shame him out of his smugness, that’s the thing about smugness. Any and all attention is a good one, even if it is a negative, a reprimand or shit like that. So she was wagging her finger at her, and he was still cheesing at her with tiny skunk teeth cuz he liked her, and when she trouped out from under me he waddled his ass right on behind her, not quite finished liking her yet, thinking to himself hmm, maybe Tembovu’s got some cuddles I can squeeze out of ‘im. Chico’s a trip, guys. Just sayin’.

The tightness in my gut was twisting too hard to really enjoy the tiny shenanigans going on kinda-underneath me, kinda-not. It was a rope that was growing tighter and tighter in my stomach, my whole body wracked with nerves as the conversation turned towards Lee(?) Mow-ya(??). It was painful to watch Tembovu’s confusion over Lee’s name, and I don’t know why, I dunno, like maybe we knew two different people and that was really scary to me. It was one (painful) thing not to know someone, another (painful) thing to know a con artist.

I didn’t think Lee was a con artist though. Or, at least, I didn’t want to believe it. Not yet.

(He had fought in a war that misplaced some babes but sure yeah I can definitely afford to give the benefit of the doubt—)

“He is a different man than what I thought. But I still hold him as a friend.”

And there was something weird bubbling up in me, something that had no place in the apprehension in my gut, the fear and the sadness that was sprinkled on top, and I realized, too late, that it was the urge to laugh. And it was weird before I realized why I wanted to laugh like that at Tembovu’s words—it was a nervous tick of relief I guess, because that sounded a lot like Lee, actually, how I had seen him when we first met on that fucked up beach, and how I saw him now—who he was to me. He was a different man what I thought. He was a King.

I didn’t actually laugh, though, cuz it would probably come out wrong and I just might cry instead and I ended up just smiling tightly, sadly, at Tembovu’s words. It made me wonder if Lee was doing okay around here, after all. Tembovu had gone tight, like me—what kind of trouble had Lee gotten himself into? Tembovu cannot be what he needs.

So then, of course, the question became: What did Lee need? And that’s the circle I’m finding myself in again.

The question came out, finally: Why do I call him Lee? I hadn’t been looking at Tembovu until this moment, my eyes cast somewhere off to the side, either side, towards the trees or the mist or some other place to consider other than my own feelings on the matter. But Tembovu had been forward about his own personal shit when he hadn’t meant to, and I couldn’t leave him hanging like that. Besides, there was a piece of me that…that wanted to talk about this, too, cuz it felt like speaking about it made it a real thing, something that hadn’t been playing out in my head all this time.

It still felt like a confession though, and the words were tight in my throat when I finally answered Tembovu. “Because,” I said slowly, uncertain and honest, “the first time I heard his name was Mow-ya was the same time I learned he was the King of the Edge.” I was looking hard into Tembovu’s eyes, deeply. “And I learned both those things from you.”

I shuffled my feet, knowing these things sounded…weird, and awful, cuz I was supposed to be Lee’s friend, wasn’t I? “I’ve known…Lee…for years,” I kept talking, not really able to stop myself at this point, “and….I dunno man. 'Lee' just comes from something I heard him say one day. Leos or whatever. We’ve…seen some shit, done some shit, and it’s like—“ I was stumbling with the words cuz even though it’s the truth, that don’t make it easy to spit, “He’d been there, y’know? Through some of the hardest shit of my life. He’d been there and I ain’t ever ask him to be but he was and—“

I sighed, or maybe I just let all my pent-up breath tumble out of me in a rush, I dunno. “I…I always thought of him as one of my best friends, man,” this came out small, almost a whisper, but Tembovu was too far away to hear those, “and it’s like…I dunno, we just were always there for each other but we…somehow we…never asked for each other’s real names. It just never mattered. He had needed help sometimes and I had needed help sometimes and it just worked and—“

I snorted, hard, a shield coming up against these soft things I was showing Tembovu, “—but he never told me when he became King of the Edge, or that he had had a family or a daughter until she was laying dead at his feet. So when—so when he needs help, he’s suddenly surrounded by a crowd of these random people and it’s like—it’s like—“ back to smallness again, “—do I even matter to him like that? I—“love him“—care for him so much, like, it feels like my stomach’s gonna blow up knowing he’s so sad, he’s so broken. But how can I go up to him like this? How can I even look him in the eye and say, ‘Yo, I gotcho back’, when there’s…dozens of others already surrounding him? Who am I to him?” Not his bestie, not like I had thought.

I hadn’t meant to spill so much of that to Tembovu, honestly; it had kinda just came out, and I wasn’t really done either, cuz it felt like there was a pressure inside me lessening, just a little, by letting the air all out. “How can you be friends with someone when you don’t even know their name? And that was my thesis statement, coming out weak and shaking.





Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.
♥♥ kate has it going on



Please tag ROSKULD in every reply!

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
#8
Navy eyes sharpened on the small smile that tightened her features, but did not reach her electrified eyes. Such a smile to follow so closely on the heels of her earlier sneer was… strange. The Elephant continued to watch her closely, some concern for Ros washing away (or overshadowing) the residual anger he felt at Mauja.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one rent by the wreckage of the Frozen Light.

His mulling was confirmed as words began to come from the voltaic mare. Slowly at first, as if gatekeeper of her throat was unwilling to share the honest intonation of her voice. But as they continued rolling, it was clear the gate was overwhelmed by candor because, even though the syllables stumbled, they still came in a flood.

She returned his intent gaze with a hard stare, nearly accusing, “And I learned both those things from you.” Onyx brows raise marginally, but he remained silent, lines around his pursed lips the only indication of his mild disapproval. But he was not here to pass judgement— this young mare was not even committed to joining the Edge. No, he was here to listen; and so, with black-rimmed ears tilted forward, he continued to do so.

“We’ve seen some shit… done some shit.” Curiosity bubbled in him as words continued to surge from her: what had they done? “…through some of the hardest shit of my life.” What was hard for her? But, still, he does not interrupt with such a selfish question. Because to ask would be to satiate his curiosity, and clearly (by this catharsis of words) this woman did not need to be subjected to the whims of his prying. She was already answer his question, wasn’t she?

His head cocked slightly as she sighed, realizing that this was much more than an answer to his simple, “Why do you call him Lee?” Or, at least, this was a much more in-depth answer than he anticipated… There were many layers to knowing another, and perhaps the foundation was their name. But many things built on their foundation: Did their face turn blotchy when they cried? Red when angry? How many lines framed their eyes when they were truly smiling— when something absolutely delighted them? What made them jealous, and how did they assuage that damning, selfish greed? And here, Ros answered so much more than how she knew Mauja’s Lee’s name— she was answering how she knew him; what he meant to her.

The depth of her emotion surprised him— although perhaps he should have expected one such as frank and honest as Ros would hold their emotions out, simply and without pretense— “I care for him so much.” Some of the confusion cleared in the Elephant’s deep, navy eyes as they scanned her face.

Who am I to him?”

He paused, waiting to confirm that she was finished, before his lips started to part to answer her--

How can you be friends with someone when you don’t even know their name?

The smallest of lopsided grins turned up a corner of his mouth as he pressed it back closed, waiting for a few, long moments while watching her to ensure he was not interrupting any last
bursts of her verbal purge. When silence held for long enough that he was satisfied she was finished, “Does he know your name?” The question was laced with surprise as it quickly slid out from his lips into the silence— but he frowned as he asked it because it wasn’t the real question he meant to say, “Or, I should ask, does knowing another's name is mean knowing them?” His eyes probed hers, “If that’s the case, then I know many friends— some of whom I’d rather not be friends with. And some—” his head cocked slightly, eyes growing thoughtful, “—who I care deeply for, and wouldn’t begrudge them ’dozens’ of others who, also, care about them; especially in an hour of need. Would you?” Would he have taken a different path if, after the deaths of those he loved, he had been surrounded as Mauja had? Would he be a different man, with fewer demons, than he was today? His lips pressed together once again, internally irritated that his thoughts turned selfish. He and his failures past were not the point, here.

“I cannot answer who you are to Mauja— or ‘Lee’— that is something only he can tell you. But I can say that, regardless of how many others he has surrounding him, it doesn’t devalue your relationship with him,” his low voice paused, head dropping to her level as he took a half-step towards her, “What you have with him, what I have with him, it is all unique— and, from what I know, he is not a cruel man,” was he? The feeling of warm blood pooling at on his horn (of angry, fleeing eyes) haunted him, but he mentally dismissed it, “So whatever you think you have is not a lie. Perhaps just needs to be—” he faltered for the word, “—talked about?”

Mbwene, swamped by the uncertainty and empathy flowing through their bond, peered out towards Chico from behind Tembovu’s back legs, trunk anxiously wringing circles in the air as the black and white, fuzzy, smug companion kept his distance from her. She had been irate with his amusement at scaring her— but now, with the affinity for Ros coming so strong from her bonded, her trunk suddenly wanted needed to be buried in his fur.
Tembovu
you thought you could outrun the world
image & coding

sorry this took awhile. Tembo had a LOT to say, but it was too much to put into 1 post, so it took a bit to organize and cut it.
I also think I butchered the use of who/whom... oops

@Roskuld

Please tag Tembovu.

Roskuld the Sparklight Posts: 424
World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE
Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric Smithers
#9

The silence stretching after my little word-vomit wasn’t long but dammit it still made me fidget and flutter with worry. I hadn’t meant to say all that I had—it had just blurghed out and now it was in Tembovu’s lap and I was suddenly super-duper nervous as to what he was gonna end up doing with it. They were fragile words with fragile things behind them and I wasn’t sure if he was gonna notice the “Handle With Care” label they were packaged with. I didn’t know him well enough to be sure of what he was gonna do. And I didn’t know that he was gonna just whiplash my ass with a simple question.

“Does he know your name?”

UH—

I clamped my mouth shut, hard, when he asked that question because it was a hard one to face from the outside. I mean, sure, I had asked myself that same shit plenty of times, but there was an extra dimension of absurdity when someone else voiced it out loud, the kind that you can’t really ignore outside of your brain pan.

And he just kept coming with those questions, though, like forreal. Does knowing another's name is mean knowing them? I don’t fucking know. My eyes drifted away from Tembovu as I thought about his implications, and I bit down on my lip as I did so cuz I guess I needed something else to hurt while I was thinking about shit that had to potential to be painful. Because what Tembovu was talking to me about—trying to teach me in that moment, I realized—had a lot more to do with me than it had with Lee. I hadn’t expected to be faced with these things like this, these insecurities and faults that I’d never acknowledged before (and that I doubt Tembovu was aware he was showing me). It somehow seemed incredibly petty of me to just focus on the shit I didn’t know instead of helping my friend with the things I did. And I knew some real shit about him, and looking at it now it wasn’t something to be proud about.

And it was worse because the next point Tembovu made—I wouldn’t begrudge them ’dozens’ of others who, also, care about them; especially in an hour of need—caused a real sick, swooping in my belly as I realized how awful it made me really feel when I thought about all those others swooping in alongside Lee. And Tembovu had a point that I would’ve gladly jumped on board with—like, say, if Bro decided he wanted to start a family and found a down bitch, there’d be nothing inside me against that shit. Or if Jiji found herself a man (or woman idk man) then rock the fuck on Ji I was gonna root my ass off for that shit to happen. And Ma? Well…okay, ya’ll know how I felt about that particular situation, but hear me out, it has nothing to do with Ma actually finding herself a man.  Like okay, the circumstances are a little sour but shit if Shapes can hit it right and keep it tight I can’t really complain, can I?

It was just Lee’s ass that made acid pool in my stomach for some reason—imaging others with Lee, extending the same kind of heart I had risked to give, cuz that shit don’t come free or easy for me. And like…it wasn’t conjecture or anything, either. He had a daughter. He had had relations before anyway.

How did I know he had only had one daughter?

How did I know he didn’t have a lover?

(Where the bitch at tho—)

And I didn’t know what I meant as I stood there, biting my lip even harder and harder by the minute and feeling so awful about this dude’s potential happiness. And feeling even worse for it, realizing that I didn’t have that kind of selflessness that Tembovu gently encouraged. I didn’t know why I didn’t have it, either. So I didn’t know where to find it.

”Perhaps just needs to be—talked about?”

I didn’t respond immediately—I couldn’t quite meet his eye, and my lip was lodged firmly between my teeth. “Y-yeah…” I kinda mumbled, rolling his words over in my head. I felt so young in that moment, like I do sometimes—except the flashes are becoming a lot more rare and a lot more stinging as time went on. But this was a lesson I had needed to take, regardless of the sickening crunch in my belly. It was something that needed to be said. Out loud.

“I, uh..” I stammered for a second, flailing for shit to say—then I finally heaved a huge sigh, my eyes finding Chico’s traitorous ass waddling towards the elephant shawty with grinning furry eyes. “…Thanks for listening,” was all I was able to mutter out.





Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.
♥♥ kate has it going on



Please tag ROSKULD in every reply!

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
#10
His deluge of questions— nearly equal to her catharsis of words— washed over the Sparklight in a very un-Sparklight silence. Navy eyes studied her face closely, seeing her teeth snag her lip. He realized, as he watched her dark lip worry between her teeth, that it was a sign of unease— of discomfort. She had done it when correcting Lee’s name to Mauja. And she did it now, tighter and tighter until he feared he’d soon see blood staining her mouth red.

And, perhaps belatedly, he realized that his lecture monologue may be overwhelming the young mare who hadn’t known Mauja’s name for a large chunk of her relationship with him. A soft sigh pushed past his black nostrils as she mumbled an offhand agreement— was it a dismissal? And mere acquiescing as she processed his words? Or a true agreement? She would not meet his eyes— here electrified gaze proved elusive— so he did not know. And he did not know her well enough to read her face, so his probing gaze was left unanswered.

Her stuttered words made his lips press together in a strange combination of regret, sadness, and empathy. “Thanks for listening.” His eyes creased with worried lines at the simple, muttered phrase. It seemed wholly meant, but it also seemed wholly overwhelmed (and perhaps partially disheartened).

So the Elephant King finished his half-steps from earlier, seeking to bring his great body closer to the stocky mare’s form, “I do not mean to criticize or dishearten you, Ros,” his deep voice rumbled as his muzzle stretched out, “We may talk about matters of the heart forever, but,” he paused as his muzzle aimed to bump lightly against her shoulder, lingering there if she let it, “Things only change or get better if you actually do something about it.”

Mbwene, abandoned by her bonded, warily eyed the approaching, grinning Chico. Despite the empathy flowing through her bond, she took steps backwards, away from the furry rougarou. Though she pined for her trunk to be in his soft fur, she could not so easily forget him scaring her. And elephant never forgets.
Tembovu
you thought you could outrun the world
image & coding

@Roskuld we can fade it here, if you'd like?

Please tag Tembovu.


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