the Rift

[PRIVATE] How Long Have I Been In This Storm?

Quilyan Posts: 206
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2 hh :: 10 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zarina :: Pygmy Marmoset :: Quantum Leap ChaoticMelodies
The water is so blue, even in the middle of the night.

It is some time after midnight, and the painted stallion is staring at the waves as they crash against the shoreline.  Somehow that is calming, more than anything else he has seen - the wave the whitecaps ebb and flow, ceaselessly bombarding the sands.  And yet, despite their best efforts, the seas cannot destroy the land, not all at once.  No, water works slowly, pulling away grain by grain, tirelessly working until there is nothing left.  He wonders if one day all of Helovia will be pulled under.

-You're being morbid,- Zarina tells him, chittering uneasily upon his withers.  

It is dark.  There is no moon tonight to light the way.  Stars dot the skies, but they do little to illuminate the world below.  Zarina doesn't like when her bonded thinks these things.  She is still so full of life, so full of hope - he, on the other hand, is desolate, uncaring.  She feels it as harshly as if it was her who was depressed, and it scares her.  He has always cared about something, and yet now... now there is nothing that keeps him grounded.  Not even her.  In truth, they have been divided since they awoke in the Halcyon Flats.  He could not remember, and she could only do so much to help him.  He couldn't even remember her, and they shared a soul.

-What is to become of us now?- she wonders, more to herself than to him.

"more words."
counting on the night for a beautiful day; | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart

@Mordecai @Abraham - kill him.
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Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

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Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time


It had been weeks since the twin dragon companions had feasted in the proper way. They had been surviving on small game; mice and squirrels filled their bellies when it was necessary. Abraham kept them hungry, kept them at his side. The trio had been stalking the pegasus for quite some time now, and Abraham had decided it was finally time to move in on the opportunity. His dragons were hungry, and they did not like to be kept waiting any longer than necessary.

The behemoth slithered silently in the darkness, the sand muffling his massive hooves from making noise. This beach is where he gained Gwyneverre all those years ago, and it was this beach on which he would shed blood to feed her properly, as well as her sister. Dangerously, the stallion lowered his massive head and pointed his dual, twisting horns for the pegasus. He seemed mesmerized by the churning, wine-dark waters before him. The leviathan knew this was the perfect timing. Stepping forward just a few more steps, the finally struck.

Haunches tucked and tightened, tree-like legs propelling him forward with an impressive amount of strength and agility. He came like a shadow and sought to devour the pegasus as the night does to the day. Feathered hooves struck out toward the stallion's hind legs, an attempt to render him immobile and helpless. Twin horns sought to puncture through the muscle protecting his right femur.

In the sky, the warrioresses moved quickly. Gold and white glinted in the moonlight silently, their assault quick and powerful. The gold aimed to swoop down and grab the companion from the pegasus' back. The white opened her jaws and blasted her white hellfire toward his face, well enough away from Abraham to save him from burns.

Holy water cannot help you now

See I've come to burn your kingdom down

@Mordecai @Quilyan

Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down

pixel by tamme

Mordecai Posts: 77
Aurora Basin Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: 3 years HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE

The night was dark, the only light that illuminated the beach was the light of the stars and they were nearly useless. The ceaseless crashing of the waves against the shore had lulled Mordecai into a sense of calm and she had begun to fall asleep. Sounds, however faint it was above the crashing waves, roused her back to a state of total consciousness. Her head turned, eyes adjusting to the darkness as she looked down the beach. It the blackneess of the night she saw the dragon fire, saw the way it very faintly outlined the features of another horse.

Her body turned, ears tilting forward, and eyes straining against the darkness. Something in her pulled her forward, whether it was curiosity or the thrum of her blood that called for the thrill of battle like a wild animal she was unsure, but she could not stand rooted in place. Like a panther she slinked through the darkness, her heart racing beating faster and faster with each step she took. As she moved her mind replayed her own fight against her mother, one that introduced the thrill of battle to her. In the darkness of the night, with a fight waging not far away, she found herself craving that same thrill.

The fight was well underway by the time that she arrived and she was aware of only two things -- Abraham was fighting and  it was his dragon's fire that had pulled her in. She hesitated, watching the way Abraham's muscles rippled under his dark coat as he attacked the pegasus. There was no wondering why the pegasus was being attacked, no wondering who he was, where he was from ... the only thing that Mordecai could focus on was the way her blood screamed for battle.

Not a word was spoken by Mordecai as she threw herself into the fight, her magic already seeking out the blood that pulsed in Quilyan's veins. She hoped that the pain of his blood turning to acid would be enough to render him immobile -- easy pickings for Abraham and his dragons. As her magic went to work she circled, putting herself on the opposite side of Quilyan from Abraham and it was at this point that she charged, her aim to use brute force to shove Quilyan toward Abraham, and hopefully into the lethal point of his horn.


she uses her magic on quil then tries to shove him toward abraham


when the last light warms the rocks and the rattlesnakes unfold
mountain cats will come along to drag away your bones

the emptiness that we confess in the dimmest hour of day
in Automatown they make a sound like the low sad moan of prey

Quilyan Posts: 206
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2 hh :: 10 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zarina :: Pygmy Marmoset :: Quantum Leap ChaoticMelodies
The attack comes out of nowhere. One moment, the prince is staring dejectedly at the choppy waters of the sea; the next, his ear is swiveling to catch the slightest shift of sand from behind him.

A great many things happen then in quick succession.

A burst of pain explodes in the prince's right hind leg. His wings fly open suddenly in reaction, an angry, frightened scream bursting from his lips. A shadow blurs beside him, its horns drilling into feathers instead of femur. If the prince is lucky, his involuntary movement will have buffeted his attacker in the face. From above, a gold flash plucks a screeching Zarina from the stallion's back; a white flare precedes a sudden rush of flame. The prince shies away, to his left, trying to escape both the unicorn attacker and its dragon. He is too slow, and fire blisters the right side of his face from poll to nose.

Zarina! he shouts inside his mind (or did he yell it out loud?), desperation turning to panic as he catches a glimpse of her clutched within the dragon's talons with his left eye. His right has been rendered useless by the dragon's flame. His thoughts are muddled, confused - who is it that attacks, and why? What has he done to elicit such a reaction from someone? His right hind hovers uselessly above the sand, unable to bear his weight; his right wing is bleeding heavily, a horn torn into the flesh. Feathers fall, floating and spiraling gently downward to land hopelessly upon the sand. He will not escape to the skies. A part of him realizes already that he will not escape, but self-preservation refuses to allow him to give in so easily. His face is on fire - if not literally, then figuratively, for already the second-degree burns have exposed the muscles of his cranium and destroyed his eye.

All of this - the initial attack, his reaction, his comprehension of his injuries - takes mere seconds. Excruciating pain is all that he knows, but somehow he tries to turn away, as though maybe he can limp away to safety. There is no thought, no coherent plan - there is nothing but pain. Zarina is screaming in his mind, but he can't make out the words, can't quite understand her meaning. Everything they have been through, everything they have weathered, it has all been for nothing -

His blood boils in his veins, and a tortured shriek climbs into the dark sky above. He barely feels the shove from his left. Suddenly he collapses, writhing in the sand, his entire body burning from the inside out, as though acid had taken over his circulatory system and become intent on eating away at him until there is nothing left. The torment seems to go on for hours, days, weeks, until he can no longer tell where he is. Perhaps he is back in Th'orqui, perhaps this is the end that the Anarchists had envisioned for him all those years ago. Perhaps Helovia had been a dream, a manifestation of his will to survive. Perhaps none of it had ever been real.

He doesn't care anymore.

His voice has long since gone silent, his throat hoarse from his screams of pain. Everything hurts, and even Zarina has gone silent. If she is dead - if her half of his soul has been ripped away - that pain has been overshadowed by his own. He can't find her. He can't find anything.

"End it," he rasps, his voice betraying the cancer of depression that has swallowed him. "Please," he begs.

Perhaps the next life would be kinder.

Better yet, perhaps there was nothing after this.

Perhaps he could pass into blissful oblivion.

Nothingness would be better than this.

"more words."
counting on the night for a beautiful day; | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart

Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!

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