the Rift


[OPEN] Lazy Morning Mists Rolling

Adria Posts: 36
Absent Abyss atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 :: 3 HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Hawk
#1
       

  For the first time in months, the girl slept in. She usually rose with the sun, her energy bounding and immediately pouring forth. But today, after the long journey from the Rotunda into this new home, the babe found this cozy bed of moss and spring grass too comforting to rise from (not to mention the subconscious notion that she was watched over and protected again). So it was well after dawn that those curled ears finally twitched and her sides heave with the coming consciousness.

Her sea eyes woke to the most wondrous of places. When she found this little tucked away hiding place it had been deep in the night, and now the full beauty of her choice came to her. She had slept on a bed of moss under the cascading branches of an old willow. The plant was strange to her, but it let her imagination run wild so that in this morning light she saw it as a veil, keeping her still waking self-separate from the world outside. Yet it was revealed to be just as lovely. The willow still among a small grove of polite trees, and then it cascaded down to a creek below, rippling and gurgling softly, continuing on into other groves. Tasseled tail curls and switches contentedly by her side and wings did not attempt to collect and be refined. She let herself, in some rare moment, relax the usual habits of decency, and she continued to lay upon the moss, wings cast carelessly out, soaking in the faint morning sun through the land’s mists above.

In time though it was her own body that commanded her rise. The sound of running water down below continued, and it drew from her an awareness that her lips were desperate for the cool water. It was about noon when she had finally risen and walked down to the creek edge to drink. Her wings still hung lazily by her sides and her walk was gracefully uncollected. In her distant thoughts she wondered who else lived in this herd. Perhaps even she might meet them today, or explore. The possibilities were endless, but her usual energy was still calmed by the lazy morning comforts.


OOC:: Open to any and all. =]


    

Hellsparkle Posts: 5
Absent Abyss
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: 10
Assbiter :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Neo
#2
hellsparkle
He has been a ghost in his new home—a whisper sighing like a hushed breath through the church, while all prayers go unanswered.

No one sings at his altar anymore. No one can sing anymore, with their tongues choking across their throats and blood bubbling out with the breath that no longer makes it to their lungs. And as he glides on his long, narrow wings in the late morning sunlight, he pretends to himself that he does it because he has to, and not because he likes it. He tells himself, they grow too greedy, they demand too much, they act without sanction and they defile my name—but he knows it is lies, all of it. He knows another thing as well.

The monster has to sleep.

He is black, inside out, from the tip of his nose to his eyes to his heart. He is the perfect shadow, swallowing all light: but he finds no evil in his color, no inspiration for his savage heart in it. His color, simply is, and as he drifts upon the cool breezes above his home he admires the play of sunshine upon his feathers. What is life without a little narcissism? A smile tugs on his dark lips. He has seen it a thousand times before, on each sunny day, that play of iridescent greens and blues, and he still finds it beautiful.

His pet is less appreciative of beauty; she rolls her molten eyes and swats a scaled paw at his face as she darts past him. "You're just jealous, you ugly cur," he throws after her, the only creature to have drawn genuine affection from him.

Everyone has a weak spot; he doesn't want to call her such, doesn't want to admit what she has done for him, for his life, for the quality of his deeds. But she is what she is, his Achilles heel, his vulnerability. His heart, given flame and wings and a life of its own. A small, black body, covered in scales and fur, thin armor for the furnace burning within.

Such a strange, precious thing, his pet.

She rolls her eyes again, darting away to hunt. She likes their new home—it is full of lush hunting grounds, tall grasses with field mice, birds, and best of all: warm rocks to sun-bathe on. She's a lazy thing, his pet, she loves to soak up the sun, belly full of meat and bones and blood. And he—well, he supposes he likes their new home, too. It is pretty to look at, rainbows and waterfalls and brooks, little groves of trees, grass and sunlight. So far, so good. But what about the people? Aside from Cem, he has met no one, skulking back into the shadows and soothing the sinister purr rumbling in his soul. He needs a clean slate. He needs patience.

He needs to learn kindness, for he is supposed to repent now, and this time, he has chosen healing.

His title is "Caretaker", and they have spent many nights laughing about it, him and his pet. All alone, of course. But today, he decides as he lazily spirals towards the ground, today that changes. He has grown tired of isolation, tired of singing softly to himself in the shadows—he longs for pure, divine voices to twine together into hymns, he longs for the magic of a song strung together from many, many throats.

He longs for beauty other than his own.

Long wings bend gently as the summer grasses tickle his lowered hindfeet, winds stirred up from their powerful beats as he gracefully touches down. A last beat of his wings, and then, his forehooves drop the remaining inches, and all four feet are on the firm ground again. Hellsparkle blinks. The light is always different down here, the air warmer, and each time he falls from his kingdom in the sky it is with a pang of loss. Everything is so much clearer in the air.

A few more blinks, and his black eyes are glossy, calm. He folds his wings against his sides. The grass whispers, hush, hush, hush, as he strides through it towards the crystalline creek, and the mare next to it. She is his opposite yet his mirror image; where he is all dark, she is all light, detailed in fine, crisp blue. She is tall, like he is tall. They're both refined, she perhaps a tad more so, and as he stands upon the opposite bank and watches her it is like he sees the inverse of himself.

So where he is old, where he is wicked—is she young, and gentle?

"Hello," is all he says, voice smooth as silk.

[ @Adria ]

Adria Posts: 36
Absent Abyss atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 :: 3 HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Hawk
#3
       

Cold water rolled over her senses, making the girl shiver with a chill. She still was not used to how everything in this land could be so cold (and she hadn’t even visited the Basin yet). Though she had gotten used to the satisfying wealth of water and food in this land. The girl had rarely ever been without enough, but an overabundance was a new spectacle. She had told the old gentle Kaj she would just visit, but even before meeting any others the child was already settling into the easy life. This lazy morning, calm yet stunningly lovely, with the promise of a full day’s adventure was ever so pleasing to the girl’s spirit.

A noise overhead of feathers catches a curled ear. Her mind, still so unused to the crazy notions of flight by some Helovians, jumped to think it a bird, so too no further notice and continued to drink. It was only when the heavy breath and the landing of a large creature sounded that the pearl coat flinched and her own feathers shifted. At first she merely stops drinking, her relaxed state kept her like a child dragged to early from bed (though it was near noon). To be sure she was excited to meet others, but her mind was still being lulled with a lullaby by her surroundings, and she was loath to leave its warm embrace when for so long she’d been in the cold.

Yet all things must awake. The attentive ear catches the swaying of grass and a shadow moves on the opposite bank. A shadow? No…a creature such as her. Inhaling deeply with the anticipation of meeting yet another creature who thought so foolishly that their wings were for flight, the girl hesitates. Yet, her mind also buzzed with the possibility that this might also be another creature belonging to the Hidden Falls. Feathers shuffle at her side and her head at last rises from the water.

Sea blue eyes, slightly glassy with her slow morning, yet watchful, find the shadow stepping closer to the bank. Her senses are slowly coming back to her, and the slightest grace of a smile begins to grow on her lips, and the vanes of her wings shuffle to lie flat and neat. Just as he was inwardly finding it hard to adjust to a new lifestyle and let go old thoughts and ways, so too was she. The habits and expectations set for her she still carried, marking her as clearly as the lines on her legs, or the star upon her head.

As she watches him come to a halt on the other side of the babbling creek she finds herself growing a great curiosity. Black, as rich as to reflect all the shades of the world within its darkness was ever such a rare color to the girl, and it made it precious and lovely. Her eyes swept over the dark coat as the light danced off of it in hues of rich blue, and even purple, while the world reflected on it elsewhere in green. The scars that mar the perfect inked canvas do not negate the beauty, for the girl was too used to those, and knew them only to be signs of pride. Even his wings though, held some dark captivating details, arresting her thoughts that that which bore them was a living being who might not like being stared at.  Perhaps she would be caught staring, but such concerns where not usual of her (past) class. Her fascination, like that of a child’s was caught and was being swept away in the lazy silent wanderings this relaxed morning of hers seemed to invite.

The spell was only broken with the shadow he spoke. A smile automatically broke across her face, and as her eyes lifted at last to full attention upon his the fog of her morning began to clear. Yet his voice was as smooth as his coat and it made a shiver tremble on her spine, and the tasseled tail flick back awake. “Hello” Comes her own reply, it not quite as elegant as his, but ever laced with a gentleness, promising sweet kindness and generous heart (though some might call it innocence).

At last the lingering questions in her mind, pushed back in her quiet moments of admiring his coat, are brought forward again. Yet at her feet and his, she finds a barrier, babbling on as if separating the two. So, still waking, her habits and manners keep control a little while longer. “You’re welcome to have a drink, though it’s very cool.” Her head dips slightly in the invitation, an offering. Yet with each passing moment the last drops of sleep are falling from her eyes and her more bubbling personality begins to show. So begin the ever long list of questions.“Are you a member of the Falls?”  The girl was too naïve to think that he had to be to come so deep in the territory. But she was in herself, on tip toe to know, that this was part of Kaj’s family. You see, lazy morning or not, she had still been very much alone and far away from such a thing for so very long.  

The questions though as listing through her head. Who was he? Perhaps he would take a swim (however shallow)? What does he do in the herd? Does he have one of those companions? Would he show her around? There is one question though that she olds very close to her heart, very dear and whispers it to herself only quietly. Was it him who was just flying? Though she may scoff at seeing them in the distance, this was the first she found herself, talking to one.

OOC::

Speech
    


@Hellsparkle

Hellsparkle Posts: 5
Absent Abyss
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: 10
Assbiter :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Neo
#4
hellsparkle
She's a pretty thing, he decides. There's something alluring about the contrast between blue and white, for it is just like snow; cold and pure. It isn't the creamy, milky white found scattered on others, on their faces, their flanks—next to her, they would all look dirty.

He knows that looks can be deceiving. He knows that he has gone long without company, and that even his heart stumbles into traps on occasion. Just because she is pretty it doesn't mean that she's worth his time.

Still, he is a vain creature, and as his dark hooves dig into the cold soil on his side of the brook he feels an old, familiar excitement pool into his blood. She is looking at him, unabashed, studying every angle of his body as he stands before her; his black eyes rest upon her face as he basks in the attention. It is like water for the thirsty, blood for the drained. It is divine.

It is the involuntary, happenstance worship.

It is dangerous, because it makes him giddy with excitement, threatening to pull his lips into a bastard grin—he wants to fling out his wings wide and caper on the spot, because there's an itch in his legs and his feet. But, as with all things, there is a game to play, and his role needs him sane and steady. He blows cool air on his mounting exhilaration, composes himself. He can't deny that he loves her eyes on him. He can't deny that his position here is flimsy as best. He needs to be patient, he needs to nurture and build and then, one day, they will know to either tremble in his shadow, or raise their voices in glorious praise, and she will look at him always.

“Hello,” she replies, her voice sweet as the cold trickle of water between them. But she goes on, “You’re welcome to have a drink, though it’s very cool,” and he finds himself wondering since when he needed anyone's permission to drink? It sours his mood for a moment, gives rise to a single swish of his dark tail as his mind whispers a poisonous purr, I take what I want, when I want, for this world is mine, but he schools himself to patience again. He knows nothing of this herd he is in—he knows not who leads it, who leads him, and perhaps he has stumbled upon its Queen? Black eyes blink, but his expression does not shift. "I am," he replies instead, head lowering until his soft muzzle touches the chilly stream.

She hadn't lied about its temperature at least. The clear water is sweet in the way of all things fresh, untainted by blood and bloated bodies, pure from its source; he drinks, deeply, slowly, but those glossy, dark eyes remain fixed upon her. Let her make what she will of that, but he wants to look, so look he will.

Finally, he raises his head again. Sunlight strikes the water dripping from his muzzle and the droplets clinging to his whiskers. "Are you?" he asks, returning the favor she had done for him earlier as his gaze roams her body. The hunger is there only if she knows how to look for it, and even so, it is subtle, playful almost.

Perhaps she will like it as much as he had.

[ my mind kind of operates like, "first we make the Mau posts, then we can play with this guy", but I realized if I do that, I'm never going to post this sorry bugger. xD @Adria ]

Adria Posts: 36
Absent Abyss atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 :: 3 HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Hawk
#5
       

She was ever oblivious. If he was basking in the attention, or her stare caused his chest to puff, the girl did not notice. As she stared, admiring the richness of his black coat, she didn’t notice his long exhale or his returning stare. Sleep was still gripping all her limited skills of awareness, and she had far too many other things pressing in her mind. What did come to her attention was the seeming ignorance of her offer, and his rather silent type disposition. The child who was full of questions and could have a conversation easily with a tree, found in this silence and lack of more welcome, tension. As she was waking to her usual bubbling self, she checks.

Her smile though was ever gracious. There were those before who were more silent and reserved. Certainly there were a few back home (she still had no other name for her tiny island of the past other than what it was to her, home). The lower members of the herd might only nod, but everyone always was very polite, to her anyway. She wasn’t vain enough in her simple style to demand such attentions and cares, but complete lack of any effort to invite her to conversation was odd. To have one hold back, though strange, did not jolt her into any suspicion. Besides, why should she worry? She was here, in this seeming haven of beauty, the morning mist hiding all evil possibilities from her eyes.

Anyway, she had much more important things on her mind. The velvet dark voice speaks up, and the feathers at her sides shift ever slightly out, with tasseled tail giving a swing. They were the slightest signs that she was on a baited breath within. Yet her curiosity is little satisfied. He is. That’s it? It was becoming more apparent that he, unlike she, had every capability of keeping his sentences short. The curled ears flick as she inhales to probe again, but he leans down to drink. His short words keep her manners up, as he gave her no room in the conversation for relaxation or ease.

So as he drank she waited patiently, the vanes of her feathers mindfully lying flat again, and the faint smile kept as she watched. It was impossible even for the girl to not notice that while this black rich beauty drank, his lightless eyes watched ever closely, bold as hers. Yet though she had felt uneasy at his maintaining of distance in the conversation, his steady gaze doesn’t bother the pearl. To feel eyes looking and watching over her was neither a fearful position, nor one of much compliment. It simple was always as it was. The duller colors of those without the higher blood had always looked with slightly hungry eyes (and stomachs) at the crystal clear coats and slender (yet well filled) bodies. To have them stare openly never seemed to bother the child, or perhaps she never took up its meaning (the words envy, lust?, and possibly hatred never filled her ears before).

Her brother had been different. Caspian had told her once of how he hated their dark stares, but he hadn’t been able to make his sister understand. So he never tried again. Virgil had tried another time, when it came to their attention that the girl knew absolutely nothing about…too friendly of gazes. But it got lost in translation. And the girl continued to give the same quite indifference to openly wandering eyes.

So the dark company gets to look, without remorse or reward. Nothing but the continuing pleasant smile, and warm reception. He raises his head again, and the girl inhaled breath holds once more slightly, waiting to continue on, and try and pull him from whatever quite corner he came from. There was some naïve thought her smaller mind, that she had only to pry him open slightly, and this more silent and reserved exterior (like hers) would melt away. He beats her to the question though and her tasseled tail flicks to the other side with delight at the other showing interest. Yet…the question was a bit harder to answer than she thought.

The girl drops her gaze from the entrancing black coat, and looks back up the hill from where she had wandered this morning. She had spent the night, and been invited to stay many more, yet was she a member? One ear falls back slightly. Even her naïve heart trembled slightly to claim a new family but it didn’t want to face the ice cold of claiming none. (She was unknowing about how rude or strange this might seem to her company. So many weeks alone had perhaps taken their toll on these notions even with her father’s teachings.) Exhaling she turns back, her more pleasant expression returning with her ever soft and gentle words. “Only just” this second. A shiver ran down her spine to say it, but not from regret or tension, this was the pearl after all, instead from anticipation at what that admittance now meant, what it gave her.

Of course she wasn’t about to let it end there. He wasn’t going to get away that easily. The girl was determined to label him as shy, or a stallion of extreme etiquette. Besides all her questions were still listing long and fast in her mind. “Have you been here long? What’s it like?” She could barely hold her tongue from asking a third, but she holds back. His reserve keeping up hers. Besides, the next one on her lips questioned his flight, and she still, as if ignoring the elephant in the room, couldn’t ask. There was so much that felt wrong (on both sides, the girl would admit) about the idea that he had just landed, perfectly safe, without seeming strain. He seemed, albeit quiet, completely sane, yet he had just been in the air.



OOC:: LOL That's why this poor girl's just now getting out.

Speech
    


@Hellsparkle


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