the Rift


rebirth.

Asur Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#1


   The earth quivers. She breaks beneath his hooves, splinters of dusty bone becoming clouds in the slant of evening sunlight. The rhythm of his steps mingles with breath in an endless hymn and the walker walks on, ignorant of the steps ahead. He recounts those behind him in the quiet before nightfall but his ears prick toward the future, too, and a whiskered muzzle twitches so those whiskers catch the light.

   This forest smells of horse. The thick musk of their flesh clings to his throat; the thick paths left by hooves of past days lead through foliage and a fine covering of dried moss - for the air is hot. It presses his flanks like an animal, like a carnivore, and threatens lightning. The traveler’s hair crackles with this promise; his heart beats a little quicker when he thinks on it - the bright rush and the awful boom of nature’s wrath - but he pulls his mind together long enough to push his long legs forward. Strange scents and the tang of lightning offer no haven; he thinks, move. He thinks, I am not there yet. Many days have passed though since he knew his destination. Plans changed. Cataclysms threatened to thrust destinies upon him that he would not suffer. In the end, trust nearly blinded him and crippled he crawled from a place he knew as home and into the strange, vast world.

   He is newborn.

   He is infected with purpose. His face hurts, and his head jerks to the left as shadows move there, on that bad side, teasing him and brushing raw wounds with their soft breath. Recalling the joyful chorus of the wolves three days ago he snorts and moves ahead and the flash of his white limbs is brilliant in the motes of light. He is altogether brilliant - gold and scarlet, blind and brittle, a feast of light and life - but the oozing scabs on the side of his head detract from such a view. The proud cadence of hoof beats falters, too, as tired limbs grow clumsy and heavy with groggy weight. He barely recalls when the dust became moss or the plains became trees, but jagged mountains rear beside him and their shadows slip across his stained hide, darkening the orange to a hue like blood beneath a stormy sky. He breathes a long breath. Home is far away.

   Still, the traveler’s path is forward. He cannot see into the future but he welcomes it, this trail of hooves long past and broken sticks and bushes muscled to the side. He knows these things. His heart beat quickens with anticipation and not fear this time, though dark clouds rolling in render the shadows obsolete. It will storm. He will be discovered. Words will be exchanged. These things he knows. These things he welcomes.

Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
Hidden Account
Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
#2
Eyes of a dragon spotted him first, wings spread wide to ride the warm currents of air that rose from the sun-scorched lands below. Lithe body tipped, spilling air from the confines of one wing's sails so that the blue spiraled down toward the stallion moving so fleetly below. An image was sent, from one mind to another, of this stranger and key landmarks that would guide the receiver of the image onto an intercepting path.

Below, the mare who saw those images picked up her pace to a trot, moving through the trees with an ease that spoke of familiarity. The woods of the Threshold were nearly as well known to her as were the ones of the Foothills not so very far off indeed. The sun wore on her, bringing a dampness that darkened her slate grey coat to black in places, but it was not too long before attentive ears caught the sound of foreign hoofbeats in the distance. She slowed, angling those white edged ears to discern the extra direction from which they originated. Another flicker of mental image informed her instead, and she approached with quiet confidence.

Mare and dragon convened on the stallion together, one from above and one from before, and there was a brief moment of study before the blue swept past overhead to join his bonded. Wings flashed with sapphire brightness before he settled upon her haunches, midnight colored hide across his back nearly blending in with her sweat darkened coat.

"Greetings, stranger. Welcome to the lands known as Helovia."

Asur Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#3


   Shadows, blue and black stalk in periphery and just beyond the edges of his sight. The traveler slows, hampered by the sudden jerk of his head - ever to the left. He oozes blood and reeks of easy prey, and the gold and fire of his coat fades as the clouds roll in on silent, high-up wind. Below their roiling anger presses hot and humid air, and the crack of his steps beneath the forest sounds. He resents the fear fleeting through his breast but masters it with a growl, another jerk of the head. Two shadows detach from the rest and become a thing of air and a thing of earth - two things, joined. They move as one.

   He stills to stare up first at the flyer. Muscles hewn of leather and steel draw hard beneath his coat but the flyer skates past on wings lit smoky blue. It smells of sun-cooked hide and smoke, smoke like the quiet mare it moves to meet. Slowly the traveler’s eyes fix on the mare but no fear lingers in his single brown eye. He has expected her; he searched long hours for this very creature in this very place and now stands rooted by exhaustion but fulfilled. The huff of breath fills the silence in between them, and he stretches down his neck as he turns his head to better see.

   ”Helovia.” The word rattles out in a voice like gravel, heavy with breath and the masculine rumble of a deep chest. He spends a second tasting it and watching her, unnerved by his own constant need to watch and never rest. He fears what he once took for granted; never again will skyborn shadows pass without a start and a jump in his pulse. Never again will any creature outside himself stand above suspicion. The traveler heaves a sigh, and looks away as disappointment moves inside him. His eye flickers back when he speaks again, though.

   ”And who are you? I am Asur.”

Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
Hidden Account
Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
#4
It was interesting for the pair to observe the wary way in which he watched the blue dragon, combined with the fresh wounds which marred his features. It made them wonder to themselves and each other what had happened to this battered soul who smelled of no land they were familiar with. But it was not the sort of thing to inquire on a first meeting, regardless of the memories it inspired of other stallions they had known.

Calm, patient, the dark mare waited for the stranger to make his own assessments. Waited for him to decide the flavor of this encounter while her dark eyes watched him steadily, taking in every little movement and filing it away with perceived notations attached. If it bothered her now to include decisions based on potential threat level and how best to counter-act an attack, she didn't show it. The times to be gentle, to be soft, were not here and now. Not before this stranger who twitched at shadows and watched with cautionary mistrust.

His voice was deep, rumbling like the small landslides that plagued the mountainsides in spring, as he rolled the name of these lands over his tongue and watched her. White edged ears twitched as she absorbed the sound, though she remained silent and still. Waiting still. At last he rummaged up an inquiry, asking after her name and providing his own.

"My name is Smoke, known as the Wild Rose and Military Chieftess of the Windtossed Foothills. My companion here is Zaffre." She spoke quietly as she let drop those bits of information. Now he would know she was a leader and a warrior of a herdland here, and it would be up to him to decide to ask further of it, or for more information about other herds.

Asur Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#5


   Wit smolders in her eyes. Asur sees a capable soldier standing before him; she measures the weight of his movements and the keen edge of his gaze. Gradually his breathing smooths into a slow, deep rhythm and his pulse pounds even in his ears. Scrutiny of her features beyond the dull smoke of her coat reveals scars hewn in white across her breast, climbing her throat like some pale ivy. He begins to wonder where he stands in her eyes and just who he stands before, but she answers the latter with a name he thinks ironic, and a low rumble moves in the stallion’s chest below even his hearing. As she continues to list titles Asur answers with little more than a nod. He knows enough to pay respect to such a mare. His single good eye lingers on the dragon as she names it Zaffre, though. After the briefest moment he breaks contact with a shake of his head. For the outsider, guessing how much strange lands have in common with his own is almost maddening.

   He prefers to dwell on practicality.

   ”Military chieftess,” a low growl. ”Do you rule beside a chief? Or another chieftess?” Or both, his gaze suggests, merely curious. A thousand questions might burst from his tongue and Asur chooses carefully, aware that first impressions matter more than any other. He might take the ease of much work from his shoulders later if he only gains the trust of such a soldier. Still, he wonders what he might want with her trust, as well. Who is Smoke, of the Windtossed Foothills? What do others say of her? Subjects? Fellows? What battles tore her flesh? What privilege won her the blue dragon? The constant ache of his face grabs more attention than it deserves, and Asur sighs. He is in no position to judge. He crawls, afflicted, to the shadow of her mercy.

   ”Is your herd the only one in this... Helovia?” he wonders, too. He thinks not but he wonders what the answer will be, how she might shape any others dwelling in her domain. Asur spares a moment to glance at the deepening shadows and wonders if no others will join them on a stormy afternoon. If not, she paints her kind as strongest by mere virtue of her presence. He respects this twist of chance. He respects the strange mare and her blue companion, though he knows only a history of scars and a list of titles.


Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
Hidden Account
Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
#6
There is a sort of recognition in his eyes that she notes and accepts. Another's awareness and acceptance that the one they spoke to was battle tested and capable. Absently the thought ran through the back of her mind; what would he think should he learn she had been a healer first, and leader later, both political and military. It was an unusual path toward her position, she knew. But for now she was content with the respect he showed toward her and her companion.

His questions amused her, and she allowed a small smile before answering. "Both, actually. But none shares in my tasks." Not yet. Warriors and head warriors were one thing, but no military chief was there to aid her. It did not bother her now, seasons after the loss of the father of her child and the friend who could have replaced him. Her responsibilities were not such that she felt driven to lift one of her warriors that she trusted to stand beside her instead of behind her.

There was a lingering pause before this stallion, Asur, at last ventured to ask more of Helovia. "There are three herds within Helovia. To the west, near the coast, lies the World's Edge herd. It is full of unicorns, and I know naught of whether or not they accept members of the other races. Far to the south, in the heart of the desert, rests the oasis of the Dragon's Throat. It is ruled by a band of pegasi who call themselves the Tuuli, and are allies of the Foothills. They are accepting of other races, though they rested the Throat from its previous occupants to give the pegasi a home." She paused, considering, before continuing. "I know also of a loose band of outcasts who roam the lands not claimed by any particular herd. I do not know how many they number, but I call their leader a friend. She is a black mare known as Mirage."

It was fair to tell him of all his choices, about the various groups both within and without the herdlands. While he made her curious, made her want to gain some fragment of his trust in order to learn what all had happened to him, she preferred to let him make his own decisions.

Asur Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#7


   She does not rule alone. His ears move back but briefly in a moment of thought, and Asur nods again. The motion is absent, mechanical; his eyes turn inward for a moment and the pain quickening his blood beats through the stallion’s pulse. Now still, he feels the ache in every muscle and the warm cleft running down his face. As she speaks, he must listen - but the words drift by in lazy whorls, descriptions of other lands given more fairly than he might expect. Asur feels a prickle of amusement then, for the mare’s confidence. Something nags though and one ear remains cocked back as whiskered lips curl around the next query, swift and without much thought. ”Unicorns? Pegasi?” The foreign words roll strange across his tongue; she speaks them as if taking for granted his understanding. Perhaps he lived more sheltered than he thought; Asur answers this thinking with a brief shake of his head. Alarm pricks at his skin like little fingers, restless. It seems almost as if his kind might be unwelcome in some parts of this land, but none oppose them. None with mind enough to break their might...

   Asur answers his own thoughts with an abrupt shake of his head. There is little room left for vagabonds in his mind. If he might find enemies amongst the common rabble here he must be glad that Smoke found him and not whatever else. He has no strength for fighting, nor even for the careful dance of diplomacy. A sort of snort shakes from him, tapering into a growl. He hates the disadvantage of begging mercy, but finds he must ask anyway. ”I am in need of aid,” Asur changes the subject, head twisted briefly to bare the slowly healing damage. ”If I might find it in your foothills...” His tail beats through the air once. ”I can fight, when I am well. I bring no danger with me, but I’m hardly fit to run with outcasts.”


Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
Hidden Account
Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
#8
An ear twitch with small amusement as she watched him take in her words. She could all but read his thoughts in the small gestures that he made. His pain was apparent to her as well, and she itched to do something about it for him. But her magic had not yet grown as she wished it would, to simply brush a cloud of smoke over his figure and take away some of that pain. All she had was her knowledge of herbs, most of them gone or drying in the merciless sun.

When he uttered the names of the other races, she recognized him as one unfamiliar with them. Such souls were few, but they existed. "Horses not unlike you or me, save some bear horns and the others wings." She said simply in explanation. It was not her place to put opinions in his head about that which he was unfamiliar. Well, perhaps she influenced him still in that she did not find them out of place in the world. He seemed thoughtful still, and she waited for him to decide what steps were to be taken next.

The ones he chose were ones she half expected, seeing as to the condition he was in. "We have a healer of sorts in the Foothills, should I be able to track her down. I can also tend your wounds, with Zaffre's aid." She offered him a smile then, stepping closer. "You are welcome to stay amongst us if our lands suit you."

She shifted to stand near his wounded side, the dragon rising into the air before she reached him. Both were mindful of his sure blindness there, and the blue hovered patiently before the stallion, waiting. "If you'll allow me, I'll guard your weak side for you while we journey. Naught ill will happen to you while in mine and Zaffre's company." She stood there, before and to the left of him where he could still see her from his right eye without having to turn his head. Dark head dipped closer to the level his own had chosen. "The Foothills is a land of tolerance and equality, open to any. You will find unicorns there, to see for yourself."

Asur Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#9


   He accepts the explanation without comment - only the shift of his eyes and the slow twist of that backwards ear remarking on the surprise at her mention of horns and wings. Part of Asur dismisses the talk as absurd, a tale for outsiders. Another part of him simply tucks it away for further examination. Their meeting is not without purpose, and he prefers not to forget that purpose even in light of the unexpected.

   Smoke’s news of a healer comes welcome, and he nods again. ”I would be grateful,” he says in response to her offer. The land sounds just, more fair than Asur could hope for. He can do no more than judge it for himself when they arrive, and though the stallion draws tense as the mare steps near he does not step away. Cautious eye moving from Smoke to Zaffre, he answers with another nod as she offers to lead. No doubt there will be questions later but she has the good sense and the grace to hold them back for now, and he can only thank her with compliance and trust, however difficult trust comes. ”Let’s go then,” he breathes at last, head thrust forward in brief acquiescence. ”And thank you.” The last words are sincere, spoken solemnly enough to imply that he will never forget, not even when he stands well and stands with his trials far behind.


Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
Hidden Account
Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
#10
His gratitude warmed her, drew an equally warm smile to her features. Politely she pretended not to notice the way he tensed as she approached, but altered her gait to be as non-threatening as she could manage. A simple nod acknowledged his acquiescence to her offer, before she turned. Her steps were slow and measured, to not set off a defensive reaction during the simple act of pivoting.

"You're welcome." She said simply to his utterance of thanks. Deep down she knew she'd made an ally in him, at the very least. Deliberately she set out at an easy pace, maintaining an easy posture. There was no need for her to act alert, potentially cause her companion to become unduly nervy. That she left for the dragon, who darted off into the trees and out of sight, yet not too far. Together they would shepherd Asur to the Foothills, offering him as calm and as safe a journey as they could muster. It was only fair, after all he must have already been through.


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