the Rift


[OPEN] leaving with a fat lip

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1
Яikyn
I hadn’t made it far, only some few hundred yards, before the storm managed to increase its tempo (how was that possible?), and vision was reduced to nothing.  So, I’d pulled off the main trail to a cavern that was really more of an overhang, deep enough that some five feet or so within was covered only with the finest veneers of powdery snow, blown in by the rancorous gusts of the blizzard itself.  Like many ledges and rifts in the mountains, this one is overhung with Johnson grasses and moss, creating a sort of awning, saturated with ice; on sunny days, the cover would glisten and drip, but in the storm, its without shine, waving in a most abysmally slow fashion.
 
Sleep comes and goes, my left leg held on its tip, tail curved neatly about the crescent of my right hind.  It comes and goes because the wind occasionally bites in and rouses me, or because one of my various hurts decides to set to throbbing, as if some cruel pixie keeps sneaking in to poke at them with sharp sticks.  Occasionally, when I wake, I look back to my leg, see the red still running in a fine line from the gaping, heinous bundle of skin that is my left hip.  I wonder when it will stop bleeding, if ever.
 
I can’t help but think that its lack of blood that leaves me so weary, not the cold, not the droll wavering of the moss and grass cover of this ledge I hide beneath.  I also can’t help but be very aware of the truth that I lack any sort of skill in healing, having always had Lena or her gathering of nurses to run to before, and when I search my brain for those distant lessons alongside all her herbs, all I seem to be able to remember is how very, very beautiful Arah’s twin daughters were.
 
Maybe mother wasn’t always wrong to smack me in the head when she caught my attentions wandering, after all…
 
[ @Voodoo or a healer of some sort, maybe?  This is set after his fight with Volterra – he has three broken ribs, a very minor sprain to his stifle, and a good handful of bruises/lacerations, the most notable being a particularly bad bite along his hip region (oh la la flesh flap) from Verzes.]


there's no place to hide down here
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Aelin Posts: 67
Outcast
Filly :: Pegasus :: 15 :: 2
Frostie
#2

'Don't go north.' They told her. The only thing Aelin was left wondering was 'Why did I wait so long to head north?' Up here in the frozen lands, the world was so different! It was beautiful and a spectacular change from her sand, hot desert home. Her wings were stretched to their fullest extent, her eyes wide and staring. All around her the world was a beautiful white haven, something new and something she desperately wanted to explore. With a gleeful laugh she soared higher and higher then plummeted towards the ground, swooping back up again before her hooves brushed the white powder. The sky growing darker and darker with each passing moment should have been her first clue. The weather anywhere could change it's mind in a moment but the princess of the throat didn't know any of the warning signs of an impending winter storm. Everything happened so fast Aelin wasn't sure what the exact turning point was. One moment she was exploring the darkening skies, the snow falling thicker and faster wondering if she should take shelter, then next she was hurtling towards the ground struggling to pull up. Slamming her left shoulder into a rocky surface the girl cried out in pain, tears springing to her eyes. She wished Rhoa was here to help her, the only brother she felt she could count on. Tilting her tear stain had backwards she let out a sob that sounded exactly like his name.

Tears blurring her already struggled vision, eventually her sight was reduced to nothing. Nothing could be seen through the snow but she knew that she desperately needed shelter. Following the rocky surface around in an effort to at least attempt finding some shelter she came to a cavern it didn't seem particularly deep but it's five feet or so would do just fine. The girl stumbled into the cave, within the area was covered only with the softest and sparkling powdered snow, blown in like her by the rancorous gusts of the blizzard itself. A flew feathers blew into the cave, disappearing into the darkness. As she entered the overhanging grasses and moss reacted to her presence. They had created a sort of awning, saturated with ice; yet it's colours grew vibrant, bright and lively. They seemed to reach for her magic, desperate to be fed. Yet it is not the plant life that she is focusing on, there is a dark mass huddled in the corner. "Rhoa?" She whispered, daring enough to allow a hopeful spark to fill her chest. It fizzles out quickly as her eyes adjust and she is able to make out the features of the huddled mass.

It's a boy, older than herself, who appeared to be dead. A scream almost burst it's way through her lips, until the heap rose with a breath and she heard the exhale. The feathers that she'd lost had blown over to the crumpled boy. "Hello?" Her voice was unsure, and she moved closer. It was then she was able to see the state of his body. "What happened?!" Her duel coulred eyes studied the many lacerations that wept over his body. Not giving a second thought to personal space (who would at a time like this?!) Aelin rushed forward, stopping right beside the other boy and studied his battered body. The bruises that diluted the colour of his dark coat looked extremely painful and her eyes came to rest on a bad bite that ran along his hip region. The pain in her shoulder had disappeared from her mind, her mind could only focus on the boy's pain. In the morning she'd sport a wicked bruise and a few minor scrapes whereas she doubted the boy surviving the night. "You need a healer." Of course the older boy was probably already very much aware of this. Taking a step back she attempt to catch his golden gaze within her own. Still not giving him a chance to speak the girl demanded, "where do you live?" If he didn't tell her then she would simply fly back to the Dragon's Throat and get one of her own people to help them. "I'll go get them and bring them back here." Despite the fact that it appeared the boy was about to die, she was remarkably calm.

Only Aelin's plan had a fatal flaw in it, one she hadn't considered yet - she was unable to fly in the storm.

There is no such thing as reality. There is just you and me.

@Rikyn - Imagining her lost feathers covering him ROFL
I guess jealousy's the curse that the struggle inspires.

☀ Force and magic permitted. ☀
☀ No fatal or permanent damage. ☀
☀ Please only tag in opening posts. ☀

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#3
Яikyn
Soft feathers flutter into my hiding place.

I watch them, their slow drifting dance, and wonder if I’m dying – and, if I’m dying, why it is my brain has chosen to see brown feathers, rather than white, and black, aglitter with gold. At least the vibrancy within the moss, the grasses, the strange sight of their re-growth amidst ice sort of makes sense, but these shimmering, coffee feathers…

Tiny hoof beats lift my ears. My eyes move from the feathers and up, towards the sound. Perhaps I am not dying, I think, as her little face peers through the awning of green things, as she dances in after her feathers. I see the wet smudge of snow across her shoulder, notices the way she avoids its use as much as she can while still shuffling into the shallow cavern, as clearly as I notice that she is quite young. Obviously, she’s terrified. Any other time, any other day, I might use it my advantage, chase her about the swirling snows outside until her breath came ragged, gasping.

I only look at her now, wondering what the First Gods mean by sending me a strange pegasus, so close to the land of unicorns.

Rhoa?

Hell no, I think, rolling my eyes in time with my head, turning away from her, a shallow snort escaping my nostrils; despite having crawled into a cave myself, in the midst of a heavy storm, not much different in age than she is, despite having whispered mother to find no answer, and not some just a name of some companion or another…

No one cared for me, when I was lost - and I am not Rhoa. I am Rikyn, and I can’t help her find her way home.

The snort draws her like flies to honey, or maybe it’s the blood, the pool of it her chocolate feathers cling to like the leaves of the willow, in the grove, to the southwest, to the shores of the pond hidden there.

Hello?” her small voice trembles through the darkness.

Leave me alone, little sparrow, I think, in silence.

She doesn’t. Her voice picks up volume, speed, the emotions in her voice changing from worry for herself to worry for me.

Is it really that bad? Or has she just never seen anything terrible before?

It’s not until she asks me where I live - nowhere - that I look back at her from the strangely vivid green of the icy wind cover shielding us from the blizzard outside. She says she will bring someone back here. I don’t think she has the slightest clue how dumb that makes her sound, so I let my backward slipped ears rise and my clenched jaw loosen, forcing myself to turn towards her.

All my anger, all the harsh words I’d wanted to throw at her, they crumble into a panting half sob, half yelp of pain as my ribs scream at me for asking this of them, the flaps of severed flesh along my hip grotesquely twisting to reveal the pale white tissues within, the dappled pricks of red vein obvious. The world sort of wobbles, but I manage, looking at her with residual pain laced across each feature.

"It’s just a dragon bite," I say, like it’s a splinter, because the blood doesn’t hurt as bad as the broken bones do, throbbing, each heavy stab a white light stealing the sight of her and the black cavern from me, "besides, it’s hell out there. Why do you think I’m even here, if travel was possible?"

A grunt breaks from me as I rudely look back out into the swirling, white arms of the snow visible through the overhang, not having enough patience to explain the obvious with tact, or to be thankful she gives a damn about some strange, bleeding man.


there's no place to hide down here
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@Aelin

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Aelin Posts: 67
Outcast
Filly :: Pegasus :: 15 :: 2
Frostie
#4

No, this boy was most definitely not her brother. Pressing her chops together in a hard line, she watched him rolling his gaze and head away. A little unsure as to why the boy had turned away from her she continued to observe him, frowning as a shallow snort escaped his nostrils. The girl went to take a step closer but winced as pain shrieked it's way through her shoulder, tears threatened her eyes. Aelin trembled as she swallowed them back, refusing to allow any to fall. Right now he needed her to be strong, she might be his only solace through this storm.

The boy does not respond to her calls, concerned she thinks he must be too weak to respond. Or deaf. There was no way he was simply ignoring her, not when he clearly needed her help. As she inspects the wounds on his body she wonders what kind of horrible soul would inflict such damage. Who would willingly bring a boy into this state? There was no doubt that if this boy had been a Dragon's Throat member her father would hunt down the inflictor and make them beg for mercy. Only her father wasn't here...neither was a healer. It had (rather suddenly) become Aelin's responsibility to tend to this boy's injuries and look out for him.

Finally he responds to one of her questions, not verbally mind you. Instead he simply rolls back and scrutinises her, judging. She looks at him and he looks at her, after a moment her head tilts to the side. He's a strange fellow to be sure, his golden eyes also didn't appear friendly. Although if she were in his position she'd likely be terrified and not friendly either. Still, she'd not leave him until he was healed and able to head home - wherever that may be. His lack of an answer suggested to her that he was an outcast.

Tonight, the world had decided that he was her responsibility and she would not abandon someone in their time of need. Not even if they were unfriendly and grouchy.

Within moments the boy's persona changed and he panted out a half sob, half yelp of pain. She was taken aback for a moment, then waited for the sounds to quieten, hushing him with what she hoped was a soothing noise. Aelin didn't see the point in lying by telling him it would be alright, in truth she wasn't sure if he would be alright.

The girl tired not to look at the flaps of severed flesh along his hip which grotesquely twisted with his movements. Aelin had seen battles from afar but never remained to examine the consequences. Yet when she found a healer she'd have to be able to describe his injuries, they'd have to know what equipment to bring. Sucking in a breath the girl turned and looked. The pale white tissues underneath were revealed and she could further see a red vein, pulsing with what remained of the boy's blood. Trying not to display her disgust on her face she looks away and greedily sucked in breaths as her own world wobbled. After a moment she realised the boy was looking at her. Pain laced across each feature, the girl look back at him. There was no pity in her gaze or face, only fear mixed with sincerity.

'It’s just a dragon bite,' it's the girl's turn to snort, which she does loudly and derisively. "Uh-huh." the sandy princess mutters back, for the first time a flicker of affection towards the boy warms her. So he was pretending to be brave? It reminded her of Hawke, it was something he had done in the past. The knowledge that he acted similar to other boys was comforting. As he speaks of the weather outside she frowns and turns to look as well, he was right of course. Aelin had barely been able to land, there was no way she'd be able to leave during the storm. Besides, she couldn't leave him. "Alright, alright." Fustrated with herself for not seeing this flaw in her plan (how could she be so stupid?!), the girl turns back to the boy, it looks like they would have to share this cave tonight.

The boy grunts as he once looks towards the swirling, white raging clouds of snow, still visible through the overhang. Aelin watches him now, without a plan she is unsure about what to do. Not to mention now that she'd stopped flying the cold from the world around her had started to creep in. Moving into the cave so that she was more protected from the elements she sighed, "best get comfortable." It was said with a level of sarcasm, as if the boy could get comfortable in his situation! It looked like his body was falling apart. It was then fury burned it's way through her body. Fury at the boy's injuries, her lack of knowledge, her helplessness and...and...just the entire situation! Not wanting to worry the other but unable to look at their dire situation for a moment longer, the girl closed her eyes to the bleeding boy and turbulent snow for a while.

With her lids still firmly closed she instructs the boy further "try get some sleep." It was true she couldn't do anything for his wounds but she could keep him safe in other ways. With the ability to watch over and control his dreams she'd be able to keep the nightmares away. What he needed now was rest so he could get better. "I'll keep watch." While the girl had heard this expression quite a few times she wasn't actually quite saw what she should be watching for. Aelin felt it applied to this situation as she would be waiting for a break in the storm in order to get some help.

"Let me know if you get" the girl's words stumbled, "...if you need anything." Cold. If you get cold. Keeping her eyes closed to the snow outside still, she mentally hit herself over the head with a long, heavy, thick stick. Replaying the moment over and over in her mind, she felt as if she should just leave and battle the snow anyway. Embarrassment was going to kill her anyway. It wasn't like she was particularly keen to snuggle up next to a corpse. Or to get his blood all over her, she thought defensively. However, if she was in his position she'd like to be held and comforted. Unfortunately she didn't have any fire magic, so his only option was...her. Ew. Hoping instead he'd just fall asleep and she would be left alone to think she finally opened her eyes to the distance.

"That Basin is close by." Nervously she swallowed thinking about the warnings she had received. Perhaps she could help him there and then sound the alarm, hover high in the sky until someone found him then fly off? It was risky, what if someone saw them arriving assumed it was her who'd attacked and in retaliation attacked her? What if he wasn't friendly with those in The Basin? What if one of their own had attacked him? Then the closest herd would be the Hidden Falls or World's Edge...but they were weeks of travel, slower with the boy in his state. Grunting in frustration she glanced to the boy beside her, "who are you?" Aelin demanded.

There is no such thing as reality. There is just you and me.

@Rikyn
I guess jealousy's the curse that the struggle inspires.

☀ Force and magic permitted. ☀
☀ No fatal or permanent damage. ☀
☀ Please only tag in opening posts. ☀

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#5
Яikyn
For all the horrible things the girl thought of Volterra for leaving me in such a state, I thought the opposite: he had done no more than what was required to hone his skills, and to temper my own. That she doesn’t understand is a common affliction of the sheltered, the demure; it has been explained to me more than once by my mother – that leaders are born to protect the sheep.

She must be a sheep, this girl, all dusted with white.

She cannot be expected, then, to know that this was how you became a man, a warrior. The fires of war care not for what they consume, or who is burned. It was a necessary part of life, as far as I was concerned, anyway, to learn to survive that ruthlessness, and the easiest way to learn was to become ruthless yourself.

That she pities me for my rites of passage is something that I might take offense to on any day other than this, but I honestly hurt too bad, and the sympathy almost feels good, because it means that, for the time being, anyway, I’m the most important thing on someone’s mind.

While her face says she wants to argue with me when I shove off her concern, she doesn’t. I appreciate that, like I don’t appreciate how she seems to settle in alongside me after being admonished for thinking she could go somewhere.

I guess it’s my fault, anyway, arrives a conclusion as to who to blame when I feel the urge to push her away from me clutch at my conscious thoughts, she’d have left if you’d let her just now.

But she might have died.

Who cares?

Try to get some sleep,” she oddly commands, her voice too youthful to be the whip she wishes; it earns her an amused glance, the tilt of my features revealing a glimmer of laughter hidden behind the stoic guise I believe all knights should wear. Besides, the words are no spell, and sleep evaded me the entire time I chased it before she arrived; does she think she can will my body to cease feeling with her words? “I’ll keep watch.

I smile at that thought as I watch the wind ripple the moss, unable to repress it as I had for her first overly serious comment. Watch for what? Harpies, looking for somewhere to hide from the blizzard? Nothing and no one is out here, girl, but you and I, and you were terrified from the wind alone. The thought of her meeting with any of the local wildlife (aside from the rabbits and squirrels, of course) almost makes me sputter with laughter out loud.

She’d likely pee herself at the sight of a Yeti.

Is she trying to insinuate something? I wonder at her hesitance, feeling the cold wind run through the cover and across my skin. The velvet of my coffee coat is thick, prepared for the cold, but hers is the fine, delicate silks of the desert people to the south, so lightly layered in warming down that I suddenly feel quite the mammoth, my chin covered in a thick curl of bristles (that I hope is growing into a beard as fine as my sire’s, and uncle’s), coat coarse with thick, heat holding growth. I was bred from stock bred for mountains, born to this mountain’s maelstrom in the midst of a lightning’s crackle.

She is not a snow queen. She is a princess of sand and sun. The only part of me that is cold is the part which is soaked in my own fluids. I don’t wonder if every part of her is freezing.

"Are you cold?" I roughly grumble as I look over at her, feeling my belly clench and my heart revolt at the notion of having to touch her, but disliking the thought of letting a woman – a freaking filly, at that – freeze to death even more, especially while she does her best to make sure I don’t bleed to death on her watch.

Why is she even here? Why does she even care?

When she gets seemingly frustrated out of no where (females) and demands my name, my ears fall back (and who the fuck are you?!) and my tail sways irritably behind me for a moment, my mind doing its best to gather the emotional outburst threatening to kick her in the mouth for being so unreasonably bossy (pegasi). The world wobbles again as I look back to her, she spins, becomes topsy turvy and then right side up again.

She’s just upset, I remind myself, she’s never seen someone so hurt before. She’s lost. It’s hell out there.

Don’t be a total asshole for once.

Also, don’t pass out. Can’t be the big hero if you fall over like a bitch.


"Does it matter?" that’s not quite what I had in mind, mouth, I take another look at my wound (it’s stopped bleeding, the cold freezing the previous flow into bright red flakes that cling, and glisten); a sigh of relief finds me, my eyes closing ever so slightly.

Maybe I should try to sleep again, the dark comforting, calm.

"Rikyn," I offer after some seconds, frowning because why didn’t you lie to her?, frowning because its so very hard to make my eyes open again to look at her, to seek her pretty eyes – two tone, the color of fields and rivers, I notice, only now – muted in the dark light and the refracted light of the snow churning outside, against the stone at our hooves, "my name is Rikyn."


there's no place to hide down here
Image Credit

@Aelin

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Aelin Posts: 67
Outcast
Filly :: Pegasus :: 15 :: 2
Frostie
#6

Well, she supposed, if she was amusing him then he wasn't for the time being dead. The boy passes her an amused glance, it tilts his young, handsome features and reveals a glimmer of laughter. Who knew that mirth was hidden behind the grouchy, irritable and sullen gaze? Aelin does not mange to smile back, instead she breaks from his eyes. Turning to look down at her bruising shoulder the girl tenderly puts some weight on it. The pain has faded to a dull throb, he chill of the world soothes the ache. Turning away from her shoulder her gaze returns to the boy, wondering how he'd managed to endure so much pain. The ache of her shoulder was enough to make her want to head home and be cuddled by family. This boy was nearing death with each breath, yet his act of bravery had still held up. His tolerance of the pain admirable, in fact she wasn't sure how he was managing to hold a coherent conversation with her. In truth she was very impressed by the dark boy, not caring if he though less of her. She might not be an almighty warrior (like her father) or a respectable woman (like her mother) yet but she had a good heart. That, she believed, warranted some kindness and good thoughts on his part.

Her eyes narrow as he smiles, wondering what she'd said now that amused him. By the gods...sometimes so could be so stupid. No doubt she'd soon become the laughing stock of outcasts. Turning from the dark boy she's once again studying the raging storm outside, praying for it to stop. She'd never felt so useless in all her life, if only she'd been blessed with the ability to heal. Then she'd heal up this dark (grouchy) stranger and they'd be able to wait out the storm in a much more comfortable situation. Sighing she pondered the idea of settling on the cold ground. Scuffing her hoof against the rough ground she wondered if eventually she'd be warmer with her wings wrapped around her body. The feathers might be able to chase the chill away from her bones. Still pondering her options she looks to the boy, wondering if he'd be needing her heat to survive the night.

It was now that she truly looked at the boy, past the injuries and surly exterior. The difference between them was clear - he was built for this weather. Rugged in fur, strong and enduring. She was not - draped in silks, ornate and enduring of heat. The black coat is worn proudly, thickly and clearly held more warmth than hers. It must be luxurious to wear such apparel in this climate. It is decorated as well, the princess of the open skies eyes the gold. Barely visible she sees the adornment on his right rear leg and the gold strange marking under the boy's right eye. They too are gold, unnatural (yet wholly enchanting) compared to her earthly, emerald green and sapphire blue. These orbs wondered down to the boy's chin, eyeing the thick curl of bristles. It almost amused her to see a boy with a beard, she'd not begun to dress herself in her mother's finery yet. 'Yes, he definitely older and he belongs here.' The girl decided, then turned her curious eyes away from him.

Still, he will one day be a handsome beast. Should they never meet again after this encounter, the girl knew she would think of him, wondering how he had grown.
Would the scars on his body tingle whenever he thought of her? Or would they only serve as reminders of whom had place them there?

His grumbled question is still not enough to return her embarrassed gaze to his form. The sandy princess faltered in her response, her tongue tangled around her speech. She'd never been cursed with a man's ego. This was not about being the more cable or better being, this was about him needing her for support. Aelin wanted him to trust her and allow her to care for him, not make him feel as if she was another problem he had to think about. "I...yes." She'd not force him to hold her and share his warmth, or want to make him uncomfortable. Perhaps he was not a boy familiar with sharing affection, let alone touching another. "I'm more used to the temperatures of the southern lands." No doubt he had realised she inhabited The Throat at some point during her life, and quite possibility still lived there. "Don't trouble yourself." Her words weren't completely sure, her voice growing smaller. She didn't want him to move, not wanting to be any trouble. Besides if he moved then he risked opening his wounds again, Aelin would not know how to staunch the bleeding. It did not seem worth it, she wasn't the one dying after all.

His ears fall back and her demand for information, orbs flicking towards his tail swaying irritably behind him. Aelin could not help the smile that spread across her lips, so that was how she'd get a reaction out of him. It hadn't been intentional, she did desperately want this information from him but now she knew how to get under his skin. By being pushy, figures. Not a trait commonly associated with Aelin, she was generally a polite and placid soul. A shiver rolls down her spine, it rolls over her entire body, eyes still trained on the boy. The boy, after all, has been successful in permentaly burning himself into her memory. She'd never forget the bleeding, aristocratic boy she'd met in the frozen mountains.

This was one of the most horrible yet curious encounters she'd ever been involved in.

Aelin can't quite understand why he didn't think his name was important. A name was apart of your identity! How could he not want to share the very first thing that identified him as an individual? "I think it is." He voice was shy, this time a softer response. Not wanting to annoy him any further she decided not to push the subject. In the short silence that settled a sigh of relief is realised from the boy and she sees his eyes closing ever so slightly. A tiny smile pulls at the corner of her chops, perhaps sleep wasn't that far away after all.

When he offers his name the girl's smile widens. It didn't clear up anything, or help make a decision about where they should head next but it was certainly a start. The sandy princess doesn't want to rouse him, yet she can't quite fight the urge to speak. "Hello, Rikyn." Softly she repeats his name in greeting, having wanted to just whisper the word that labeled this mysterious being. Her tongue handles the unsusal name with little difficulty. Rikyn. She liked it and it suited him quite well. "My name is Aelin." He hadn't asked for it, but she thought it polite to share her own label. She continues to smile and watch him, wondering if he'd finally fall asleep. The girl can feel her magic awakening, alerted by the sight of his eyes drooping.

"Atthirarido, Rikyn." Not quite sure why she does it, but her vocals pick up the nursery rhyme that her mother would sing to her and Hawke. It's soft, her voice was not as gentle or as beautiful as her mothers but she feels calmer. It's been a while since she'd hummed the melody, yet she remembers each note. When the melody finished she returns her gaze to the storm outside. She'd protect his dreams and be here when he awoke.

There is no such thing as reality. There is just you and me.


@Rikyn

Atthirarido - Dream
Sorry this took so long! Been busy with finals, critical essays and reading projects. It's chaotic at the moment. ;-;
I guess jealousy's the curse that the struggle inspires.

☀ Force and magic permitted. ☀
☀ No fatal or permanent damage. ☀
☀ Please only tag in opening posts. ☀

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#7
Яikyn
She stammers that she is cold, almost as if she is ashamed of herself.  It makes the discomforting notion of having to keep her from freezing to death a little less horrible for a moment, a smile fleetingly crossing my lips.  I nod when she admits to being from the south, having figured as much, what with the wings and the linen thin pelt.

Don’t trouble yourself,’ she says, and I want to laugh, but don’t.  She should be troubled, if night falls before the snow quits.  It’s really chilly when it’s dark out up here.  I look between me and the stone wall to my right, and the curtain of emerald to the left.  There is enough room for her between me and the curvature of the stone if I scoot over a little bit, but just barely so.

Her wings will probably be touching me.

I only remember touching Aithniel’s a few times.  They were slick, glossy, like leaves, but they rustled and parted, left a sensation of tingling touch behind that had been incredibly unpleasant.  I hadn’t said as much to my Thistle Sister.  It would have only hurt her more than she already had been, by those around her – but this filly is not Aithniel.  She is some strange girl, and she doesn’t even have a crown like my sister does.

I don’t want to touch them.  I really don’t want their foreign, cold masses pressed against my side.  The thought of accidentally touching the longest of them with the curve of my tail makes my stomach clench and throat feel sour.

Do I really want her to be cold, either?  I guess not.  

Whatever may have come of this trail of conversation is broken when she rouses my temper, lost entirely as it subsides and we exchange names.  Aelin, she calls herself, and it’s a pretty name, flowing like Aithniel’s is.  Maybe all birds have musical names.  It would make sense, I guess.

Some weird word comes out of her mouth as I almost drift away, some weird word that for whatever reason reminds me that she’s from the south, and that there is a blizzard out there.  Her pretty song is pretty though, and I’m quite susceptible to things like that at this moment.  Shaking my head swiftly to clear the grogginess for a moment, I shuffle over with my wounded leg raised, making more room so that she doesn’t have to touch me (she probably will).

"Come stand here, out of the wind," I dictate, arrogantly demanding despite my weakness, aureate horn pointing to the space between myself and the stone, "wake me if the storm stops."

Whether she listens or not, I don’t care; she can be cold if she wants to be.  I’ve offered all I can.  It isn’t but a second or so before her humming has me again anyway, and I’m asleep, in a soft dark world.



Ahead of me is a stretch of grass which reaches out over the ocean.  The precipice plunges down into the steely blue water, the overhanging grasses tousled by a wind that almost whispers encouragement as my legs begin to charge towards the edge.  

A part of me tells me that this is only a dream, but it is too realistic to be just any dream; the grass tickles my ankles, the wind tangles wildly through my mane.  Birds cry overhead in a warm, spring sky.

I should be afraid, is a cursory wonder as I careen towards this jutting brim of land, knowing that I will die if I fall…

But I’m not afraid.  I gather speed, confidence rising in my chest, the strangest knowing that I will be
just fine filling me as the edge comes closer, and closer.  Behind me through the croon of the wind I hear hoof beats; they are not mine.

The edge looms.  Instead of sliding, stopping, feeling the breathless rush of adrenaline surge through me as I evade death, my body leaps outwards, out into the blue expanse of sky.  Dark shadows appear to either side of me.

I turn to look upon them, and find wings, glossy and black, their ends rich cocoas tapered with gold.

Fear does find me now, where it did not before.  I almost plummet from the sky because I forget that this dream body knows what these are, and how to use them; I almost plummet because its horrifyingly real, and a dark voice deep, deep inside of my head is screaming that I am
condemned.  

But, somehow, with the strange, peculiar magic of a dream, I do not plunge into the playful ripple of the sea below, but find myself again flying, the notion that there is someone close a distant song, a hummed melody in a cold place.

Amazement broadens my eyes to watch the glistening water pass below, endless in any direction as only the sky had seemed to me before.  The white shapes of the clouds are so close overhead, as if the aureate tips of my wings might carve through their bodies and leave wispy trails.  While I still feel an unsteady discomfort rush though me when the wings beat to hold me aloft, I manage to forget their wrongness in the sheer sensory overload of
flight so palpably real, and tangible.

Just as I’d noticed the hooves running behind me, I notice the sound now of wings, buffeting the dream wind.  Glancing over my shoulder, I find Aelin…

And she smiles at me.


[ OOC:  Hope this is okay! ]
there's no place to hide down here
Image Credit


@Aelin

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Aelin Posts: 67
Outcast
Filly :: Pegasus :: 15 :: 2
Frostie
#8

As she hums, he's drifting. It calms her to see him being lulled to sleep, hopeful that this rough situation may become easier. As she whispered to him he's almost gone, sleep calling to him. Rolling her aching shoulder she does her best to resist the urge to move closer to feel some of his heat. His blood on her coat wouldn't matter if she ended up becoming an ice sculpture. Her song is strong enough to take her home, her mother and brother smile at her. Their phantom warmth melts the ice in her body. The movement of him shaking his head swiftly and sleep staying a bay for a moment isn't quite enough to stop her song. Rikyn shuffles over with his wounded leg raised, Aelin realises to make more room. More room for her. A tiny grateful smile lights up her face.

At his demand she ruffled her wings, the motion is minuscule. Perhaps she had not realised just how much the sight of his mangled flesh disturbed her. Still, she would not refuse him, wanting to keep him happy and calm as to not aggravate his wounds further. Crossing the short distant between them the girl does listening, standing above him. But her melody proves to be soothing him into a lull and within the next passing moments Rikyn is asleep.

Her magic burns to life with an almost crippling force. Perhaps because she was eager to meet him in her kingdom rather than what she had met in this arctic wasteland. She wants it. She can not fight it, as he slips into her kingdom and magic pulls at her, almost forcing her. Fighting it is futile, she knows this. Yet, despite her own desires, she does not wish to intrude into the boy's personal thoughts, the sandy princess tries to resist. The internal battle takes it's toll and within seconds she's collapsed beside him, rolling her body she curves along his. Her nose mussels into his mane, and she inhales his scent. It's foreign, it's intoxicating. It's virulent. The shock of his warmth against the cold she had been feeling is enough that the girl looses the fight.

Aelin knows when she next comes to, she'll be there with Rikyn and he will be whole...


It takes the girl a moment to gather her wits as she materialises into Rikyn's dream. Somewhere, some part of her is still inhaling his scent. It tethers her to the real world. She should fight but instead she allows her senses to explore the world Rikyn had built. The stretch of grass reaches out over the ocean, Aelin's eyes studied the colours and the way it moved. Rikyn is ahead of her, she eyes him and his curious movements. The girl's eyes study the precipice that plunges down into the steely blue water. Fear does not churn in her stomach, why does a pegasus need to fear a cliff? Why would Rikyn need to fear a cliff in this world? Quite clearly he does not. The girl's eyes drifted down to the overhanging grasses, they are tousled int the soft wind. She gasps in shock as Rikyn begins to charge towards the edge. After a moment she chases after him, partly curious, scared and excited.

He will be safe, with control over this landscape she will catch him if he falls. Just as she had done with Hawke she would vanish from this spot and paper underneath the unicorn. In this realm she's strong enough to carry him. So Aelin continues to watch, birds cry overhead but the young princess remains behind Rykin. For she wants to leave the shape, events and colours of this dream up to him. Here they could fight dragons or save the damsel or...well leap off the cliff.

Is he afraid? Or is there nothing but adrenaline pumping through his veins? Arlin's body prepares to catch him but there is so much confidence in his movements that she does not allow herself to be afraid.

But he's clearly not afraid. Rikyn gathers speed, Aelin watches as the confidence takes over his body. Watching him charing head first and not slowing fills her with delight. The edge edge closer as she begins to chase after him, her legs stretching in each stride. Her hair streams out behind her and either side of her two wings spread wide, preparing to give her lift. Just as boldly she charged behind the dark boy, ready to catch or cheer him.

Before them both the edge looms, she knows that he will no fall. As she had excepted Rikyn did not slide to an abrupt stop. Her breath was sucked in harshly as his dark body leaps outwards, away from the cliff. Then she exhales as her eyes see his body out into the blue expanse of sky with dark wings appear to either side of him. The girl studies them as she draws closer to the edge of the cliff. The beautiful feathers where dark, glossy and black, and the ends appeared to have been dipped in molten gold.

Her hooves reach the edge of the cliff and her back hooves pushed off and she joined him in the open expanse.

Closing her eyes she enjoys the freedom of flight. It's unlike any other pleasure in the world, there is nothing so invigorating, so restoring anywhere else. The first time she'd flown the feeling alone had been enough to be sure that she'd never felt quite right on the ground again.
Delicately she began to change the wind, wanting to to softly play the song of her childhood. It was subtle, only to be heard if you listened closely.

Aelin wants to laugh at his almost childish wonder, it was exactly as she felt about flying. That childish wonderment was an almost perfect reflection Together their bodies break the clouds into pure wispy trails. He wings beat proudly, strongly and assured. This was yet again her domain, the open skies was where she belonged.

Finally he turns and his golden gaze finds her.

And she smiles at him.

"Rikyn." It's soft and blends into the dream wind, almost as if her voice isn't real. Did she actually speak? Proudly she beats her wings and moves to circle him. Hovering above then dropping elegantly to his side. The grains of sands that cling to her coat begin to roll over her body, glistening and wrapping around her middle and eventually trails behind her in a patterned cloak. It's made of silks and flowers, woven together and ripples around her. The ends fade and come back to life, fading in and out of the dream behind her.
Golden beads appear behind her ears, weaving through her dark hair, shining proudly under the sun light.

In this world they could do, normally she'd take over but there was a certain excitement in just allowing Rikyn to take control. She wanted him to explore his desires and join him on whatever adventure he manages to create.

Dragons.
Demons.
War.
Darkness.

Anything he wanted, she was just here for him. Here to support him.

Somewhere, far away, her nose again inhales his scent.


There is no such thing as reality. There is just you and me.

@Rikyn
I guess jealousy's the curse that the struggle inspires.

☀ Force and magic permitted. ☀
☀ No fatal or permanent damage. ☀
☀ Please only tag in opening posts. ☀


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