He knows only walking: one foot forward and another and another. Shadows slip away and only the steady beat of wings leads them on through a hazy dusk, through hot winds streaming over dry earth. Asur's tongue lies thick in his mouth and the stallion forces down a painful swallow in between the labor of dragging breath. He is weak; he feels weakness seeping through his veins and struggles on despite the miles lost behind. Now is not the time for counting; halfway up a mountain only fools pause for the view and never make their goal. He shakes his head and the flash of pale limbs follows the flash of Smoke's small hooves. The stallion's head aches; his hooves drag heavy trails through the dust. Hot, breathes a sluggish voice in his mind. This is a dragon land, baking and inhospitable. This is a place beyond his might; it would crush him without care.
Gradually the afternoon diminishes into true dusk, and their shadows slide lazily alongside the pair. He lifts his head to watch the sky turn orange, and more mountains rise ahead. Jagged peaks - he recalls the teeth of wolves. Some of the heat seeps from the air, and the fire in his coat dies down and simmers into something bearable. Asur breathes once more, like a beast awakening. Like a man dead on his feet recalled to life.
The chieftess moves on his blind side, but Asur's head swings to offer the good eye sight. Shadows reaching from the mountains stretch out to embrace them now, and wrapped up in hospitable air, he feels a looming end. "This is your home." The strain of slope weighs on his limbs, but trees drape branches overhead and Asur's lungs fill with damp air, the promise of water. "It's beautiful," he observes, the gratitude heavy in his voice. He has too much to be grateful for tonight, and willingly or not finds himself allied with a stranger, but a good one. Hopefully. His keen eye moves about the place in earnest curiosity but always travels back to Smoke, awaiting her direction.
"You said you could help... this," Asur says at last, the most direct attention he has paid his wound since setting foot within Helovia. He gives a twist of his head to bare the wound again, half healed and caked with blood and grime. No embarrassment finds its way into his tone - just anger, and a good deal of staggering pain. He does not expect the mare to have forgotten; his statement is a plea, a last reminder. Begging anything is still strange on his tongue.
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Jackal2 the King of Thieves Posts: 71
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 ½ :: 3 years |
| zz |
Dusk swept day away with a vibrant palette of colors; deep magenta and orange and gold, with the occasional cloud rimmed in bright pink and light yellow, drifting over the snow-capped mountains of pale purple. There was no lack of color in Helovia, he had noticed, given his vision of the world were the faraway memories of Anarore, desaturated in comparison, perhaps a snatch of dark dull bloodred, or the electric cobalt of pulsating runes.
The dripping colt rested by a grove of stunted windblown trees, their skeletal arms offering only minimal protection from the dying rays of hot sunlight. Since his discovery of the immense waterfall at the center of the Foothills, the hardy dun had embraced it as his home, playing in the cool shallow pool at its foot during the hottest hours of the day, lingering beneath the looming shelves of stone when the world grew dark. He had scarcely seen anyone else at this oasis, save for the occasional wren, which led him to wonder if he was the first to find the white veil of water crashing down like all his troubles. The prospect of being an explorer, a pioneer, brought him unjustifiable joy, so he pretended to being the sole witness of this brilliant cascade.
His dragon companion sat on the stony ground with a plump mouse before him, hunched over as he tore it apart with his wicked teeth. Fur clung to the scales of his jaw, an absurd beard of mute grey fluff with the occasional accent of white. Jack watched his friend, mesmerized by the brilliant play of colorful light across his metallic bronze body. Belatedly, the pungent scent of blood and meat entered his nostrils, causing the colt to flick his ears backwards in disgust. How could such a wonderful creature devour something so foul? The consumption of living, breathing things always perplexed him, and his dragon, a blatant carnivore, was no exception.
When the bronze finished picking off the bones, the duo crept down the mountain, through a narrow stony pass, raw granite and gravel crunching beneath the strong horn of his broad striped hooves. His heels clicked cordially on the rock, accompanied by the muted sound of leather wings gliding over thick summer air. His hide was cloaked by the shadows of the mountains, slanting down greedily as the sun continued its descent.
From his vantage point, the appaloosa colt could see the entire herdland bathed in golden light, the distant specks of horses grazing in the glades between trees as entrancing as the play of light and shadow across his bronze friend's scales.
Continuing down the steep trail, his dragon fluttering over the gutwrenchingly open air besides him, Jackal spied two horses in the distance below him - a handsomely colored chestnut stranger and the familiar robe of a grulla mare. Excitedly, the young dragon flitted down to greet them. The colt smiled with impossible fondness toward his bonded, and he moved swiftly down the trail to meet the equines gracelessly.
When he could see their features, he paused respectfully, a brief wind coaxing his wild tail into a style which suspiciously resembled the tail feathers of a turkey. He smiled at his great-aunt first, and then at the stranger. Dei flew away easily from the other two and perched easily on his bonded's shoulders, solemnly sending the gruesome image of a half-healed scar and a milky pale eye. The stallion, he is wounded? The colt could only see the stallion's whole side, the healthy brown iris. He wondered how such an injury had come to be, but decides against the rudeness of asking.
"Smoke," the yearling said tentatively, his youth evident in the uncertainty of his speech. Eyes of mercury and quicksilver and sapphire, speaking of cornflower skies and gentle babbling streams and unspeakable sorrows, find themselves focused upon the newcomer, but he could not bring himself to say anything to the chestnut for some reason, resigning himself to watching and listening.
[please kick me if I'm making too many assumptions of their location xP]
Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT |
|
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath
Kachie |
It took much longer, in the heat of tallsun and at their slow pace, to reach the Foothills than it normally would have taken the grulla mare. She did not begrudge her companion though. Instead she planned what she could do for him, and in what order things should be done. The sun traced its way across the sky, at last sinking behind the trees and laying dusk across the landscape.
They moved amongst the woods of the Foothills now, and she was aware of the way Asur moved his head from side to side to observe his surroundings. An ear tilted to catch his words, and a smile crossed her features. "Yes, this is the Foothills." She said simply, moving over the terrain with practiced ease. "I mean to bring you to the waterfall at the heart of our lands, where you can drink and rest while I have Zaffre scout for herbs and our healer." This was spoken in response to his carefully-worded reminder.
A trill broke the almost silence, alerting the mare of another nearby. She knew who it was before she spotted the young bronze winging toward her and Asur, and the dun colt trailing behind. Dark head lifted toward the bronze, a whicker of greeting passing her lips even as her blue swept out of the sky to fly circles around his bulkier brethren. Smoke chuckled then, her gaze going to the yearling who hovered nearby. "Hello Jackal. Would your Dei like to help Zaffre go herb hunting? Zaffre knows which ones I need, and another set of eyes are always welcome."
A sweep of her tail coaxed the colt closer, encouraging him to walk with them. "Jackal, this is Asur. Asur, this is my nephew Jackal." She offered them both a warm smile with these simple introductions. Her pace was steady though, picking up the path that led up amongst the rocky hills and to the waterfall nestled amongst them with its pool of cool water below.
Above Zaffre chirruped to Dei, imparting images of particular herbs and their likely resting places. The blue was well accustomed to hunting herbs for his bonded, and just as familiar with lifting the knowledge he needed from her. Colors, shapes, textures, locations... all appropriate for the season, regardless of the unseasonable heat. Then he was off, a dark shadow against the gathering fall of night. His primary missions was seeking herbs, but he'd stop to alert Poppy should he stumble upon the mare.
Wings flashing in the sunlight - dust and shadows suddenly detach themselves from rock, from the embrace of trees. Asur’s ears lift to twist forward and for an instant white limbs fumble. He hesitates; adrenaline, unnecessary, pings through his chest. Then one brown eye follows the flight path of the bronze dragon and lands near a chestnut stranger, a colt - spotted. Asur breathes. He sees the trees again, and Smoke before him. He shakes his head, and tendrils of bright hair escape his braided mane to fall across the stallion’s neck. A tired pounding takes up residence within his skull and Asur sighs.
The boy greets Smoke and stares at him, and Asur stares back, gripped by unfriendly silence. He wants the waterfall; he wants to kick this boy from the path, no more than a nuisance on a bad day. As Smoke names the bronze Dei, Asur looks at it again and slowly the stallion’s ears cant back along the slope of his neck. The flash of sunlight on its hide wields unwelcome power over him; the stallion’s pulse still beats loud in his ears when Asur finally finds time to swallow, and answers with a mute nod. He’s become skilled with holding his tongue and making agreement, it seems. ”You all have dragons?” is the only mention made of their new companion. Say something, wills his brain, but there is too much and nothing to say. His single good eye lingers on the bronze and then he looks away, his heavy hooves hard at work tracing Smoke’s footsteps.
The scent of water thickens as they march on, and the shadows thicken too though Asur pays them little mind. Before long his mind lingers on the roar of so much water closing in on them, and strange things flicker at the edges of his vision - black lights and falling stars, the whisps of forelock flooding through between his ears. He is tired, he thinks. He is beyond the art of decency, beyond striving to exist as more than moving bones and ligaments and blood.
The falls, when they come into sight, receive only the dullest welcome.
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[ Since his face is pretty much infected and gross right now, I'd like if whatever healing he manages to get just fixes that, rather than mending the whole thing, please? :3 ]
The dragon found her while she slept, tucked away out of sight behind a sad and wilting Juniper bush, breathing deeply of the smell and dreaming that she was a great apple tree, growing succulent fruit for all of her herd who she loved so dearly and they ate it up and smiled at her and thanked her and loved her back, but suddenly there was a flash of thunder and one of the foals with stick-heads fell over because he was dead and they all stared at her in shock and outrage and she cried and cried but she was a tree so they couldn't see it and she tried to explain that she didn't know it was a bad apple but she was a tree so she couldn't talk and she tried to run away when they came at her with fire and their horns but she was a tree so she couldn't run and then there was the smell of fire and scale and a shrill chirping which didn't make sense but then she woke up, drenched in sweat and tangled in the Juniper which had tangled around her protectively, and it was just a dream and she was not a tree and everything was okay.
Except that Zaffre was there, a handful - clawful? Pawful? She was not sure of the terminology, and she tilted her head, puzzling it over, while the vines on her side relaxed out of their defensive coils and withdrew their two-inch thorns back into their inky mass, budding leaves that wilted to show her weariness. Suddenly she started, pulling herself into a sitting position (the Juniper still refused to let her stand), and stuck her nose out to sniff at Zaffre's herbs. Something registered in her brain then, some lucid recognition and familiarity. "Fix herbs," she muttered, taking in their scent. That must mean... she gasped and launched herself up, small scratches tearing her breast as she tore free of the Juniper, using her magic to absorb some of the strength it had stolen from her. Then she took off after Zaffre at a run, little grey body skidding to frequent stops as she reached down to grab additional plants, holding them gingerly between age-stained teeth.
She reached the waterfall in little time but more than needed normally; however, the collection of plants she carried was quite impressive, and perhaps worth the wait. The smell of blood was enough to lead her to the source of the problem, excitement glittering in her ruby-rimmed eyes. The silky vines on her ashen sides curled and uncurled anxiously as she approached the small gathering, gaze drifting from the grey and striped mare who she thought was maybe someone she might know (she was far better at recognizing dragons than equines, for some reason), to the brown and white spotty colt, who was someone she did not really know she thought although she might and maybe she just didn't realize it but that was too hard to think about so she looked away, to the bright orange horse who was bleeding on his face and that was why she had come.
The diminutive mare dropped her pile of plants and got to work. All-business for all intents and purposes, she trotted over to the stallion, craning her neck to examine the tear that crossed his eye. A shiver ran through her, the red patch on her shoulder shaking violently; her vines sprouted spade-shaped leaves and she nodded to herself, agreeing with her thought. Turning around, she rustled through her stockpile, pulling out an Oregano plant - roots and all - and dropping in in front of the big orange horse. Face recoiled at the sight of how unappealing and dry it looked; This would not do. Slowly, creepily, the roots began to move, digging into the ground and launching the plant upright in a foreign and bizarre motion. In a burst of energy, the newly re-planted herb sprouted a great mass of leaves and flowers, blooming rapidly and unnaturally. To any onlooker, it would perhaps seem bizarre and terrifying. But there it was, a flourishing plant in a dry spell, growing contentedly on the banks of the water hole. "Eat," the little mare instructed, turning away to grab her next ingredient. She picked up a strip of Tamarack bark. The great tree had once whispered that it could make things not swollen, and right now the orange stallion's face was quite puffy. She chewed it thoughtfully, examining the wound with a concentration unusual for the scattered doe. The cut crossed directly over his eye, and she did not want to get anything in that - she did not know how to fix eyes. But she was not know how to be careful enough... a thought. Excitement. She turned to the others, almost prancing in the brilliance of her idea.
"Dfwagorns hwropw?" Gibberish; words obscured by mashed up bark. She frowned, spitting the mound of wet, goopy tamarack onto a stone in front of her, then tried again, carefully forming the words, trying to make her speech clear. "Dragons help," she said, looking at the striped and spotted horses for approval. "Can put fi- medicine, on hurt?"
[ ooc || I hope I didn't accidentally powerplay Zaffre finding her xP ]
![[Image: 2m7t3j5.png]](http://i44.tinypic.com/2m7t3j5.png) |
Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT |
|
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath
Kachie |
A sense of success caught the attention of the grulla mare, head turning with forward tilted ears, gazing unerringly after her dragon. With a small smile, she turned her attention back toward Asur, easing in closer to him in preparation for Poppy's appearance. "Some of us have dragons, yes. There is one other in the herd with a dragon, though I know several outcasts who have bonded with dragons."
Shortly after came the sound of returning wingbeats and approaching hooves, and Smoke shifted into a supportive position besides the stallion. "That would be Zaffre returning with Poppy, our healer." She murmured in warning explanation, just before the pale, vine-wrapped mare appeared and approached. Both mare and dragon held bounties of herbs that tantalized with their scents. The grulla drew in those scents willingly, identifying several with an approving nod even as she watched Poppy begin her medical assessment.
When the other mare wrought her magic on one particular herb, making it take root and grow, Smoke watched with a growing idea sprouting in her own mind. But that was something to be contemplated at a later date and coordinated when there were less pressing things to deal with. Ears twitched when Poppy gazed expectatly at her and mumbled something around the bark she was pulping. When that hindrance was spat aside and the words respoken, the grulla smiled. "Of course, Poppy. Zaffre is particularly knowledgeable at that, he used to do the same for me. Just tell us what you want us to do." Truthfully, she had a fair idea at what was intended, but was curious to see just how the pale mare would go about this task.
Poppy, Smoke names the sound of new hooves even before Asur sees the vine-clad mare. The smallest shuffle of pale limbs draws him back; Poppy appears in a rush of activity, trailing the pungent odor of plants and covered in them, too. Their leaves move when the grey mare speaks; one orange ear tilts up to follow this, and the brightness in Asur’s good eye betrays more than a little surprise - but the feeling dulls as soon as it rises. His body resents this constant newness, resents his varied demands and lack of concern for its suffering. Asur breathes out, and lowers his head to follow the healer’s work in silence.
She works fast, he thinks. Feeling no threat he leans in, attentive, moving only to eat when she bids him eat. Something about her mannerisms, the distracted babble of her voice communicated, too, through frenzied movements only Poppy seems to know the pattern to, tells him the mare knows her duty well enough to brook no argument. So Asur chews, and watches, and feels a vague tingling spread up along the length of his jaw. For a while only that sound and the noise of Poppy’s movements interrupt the quiet, a dull screen of white noise cast by walls of falling water just behind him. Only the mare eventually speaks, and he blinks as if broken out of a spell - sleep, really.
”Fire?” Asur’s head jerks back, and suddenly the keen glint of his eye darts for the dragons. Muscle strings taut under his orange hide and the stallion jerks back, standing tall again and lean and glancing at Smoke in search of some help. He becomes a series of trembling limbs and scorching distrust in an instant, slipping back and away and frowning, growling like a beast newly caged. ”You said fire,” he glares at the grey mare, his tail wringing.
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It pleases her, the stallion's cooperation, because she wanted it to all be better and while maybe she could make the orange stallion eat the plant but she did not really want to do that although it could maybe be interesting and she wondered if she really could do it, or if the plant would just eat him because sometimes plants ate bodies but usually when they were dead. She frowns, stopping in her motions, and perhaps would have been lost to them but for the words of the striped mare and her assent towards having the dragons help, which was good because she would need them unless she wanted to stick her nose in the blood, which she did not.
She smiles, and she wants to reply to the mare and give some directions to Zaffre, but then the orange stallion jerks and she jumps in surprise, and he really is very tall and she's a little scared. His voice is accusing, and all she wants is to hide behind her little mostly-eaten oregano plant and wait for him to not be angry. The word penetrates her foggy, fear-muddled mind, and a new wave of terror washes over her. Frantic, she shakes her head, dark mane jumping across her poll and veins growing thick and woody. "Fire!?" she cries, crimson eyes frantic. "Where is fire?!" Small beads of sweat pool on her ashen brow, nares flared in concerned panic. She does not know that dragons make fire, you see; and let us pray she never finds out. She is a creature of the earth, and the earth does not love fire, except sometimes when it is dead and needs to be healed. But there was no need for that now. There was no need for fire.
She turns to the stripey mare, eyes entreating and desperate. "If fire cannot fix hurt but need to fix hurt and dragons help but fire bad and need to go away and where is fire?"
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Jackal2 the King of Thieves Posts: 71
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 ½ :: 3 years |
| zz |
06-29-2012, 01:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-29-2012, 01:29 PM by Jackal2.)
[sorry this took forever :C]
With a flash of gold and heady bronze, the young dragon greeted his blue counterpart with joy, chirping and speaking in dragon-tongue, jade eyes sparkling with youthful excitement. Jack fell into place besides his grulla aunt at her signal, thankful for her warmth.
Although his speckled coat was still damp, dry wisps of rust and orange-gold mane flickered silently at his crest as a tepid breeze tousled them. Smoke suggests Dei go herbhunting with her Zaffre; he offered her a ghost of a smile. "I think he would," the appaloosa said quietly, urging his companion to follow the little blue. Go, and off the dragon flies, tailing his dark friend.
There was uneasiness between the older chestnut and the yearling, but besides Smoke, there would be no trouble. She reminded him vaguely of his own dam, at least the warm grey of their coats and the white speckling on their bodies (although Smoke's was artificial, unbeknownst to the colt) and their expressions which told of fearlessness, of courage - but also of a heart which could love fiercely, but Wild Rose's eyes were not the passionate shade of amber of his mother's, which made him sad. He wondered if she had lived, but decided to push those thoughts aside, because they would rip him apart; he was not as strong as his blood had promised.
When he realized where they were heading, Jackal's ears plopped down dejectedly. They knew where his waterfall was, and he was not an explorer, just a silly spotted colt with a head made of loam and rotting wood.
Meanwhile, the little bronze followed the blue, twirling and dancing through the air, gilded wings carrying him smoothly over cool air currents as the night grew dark and the stars peeked over the mountains. He helped Zaffre gather the healing herbs, and afterwards they went to the healer, a diminutive grey mare entwined in a bush. She was strange, with strange mannerisms and strange speech. Dei tilted his head curiously - he had never met an equine such as she.
Jack's striped heels clacked noisily on the stone footing of the cascade, tail swishing idly. He stood close to Smoke, like a little newborn foal. She smelled of sagebrush and high mountain air. He liked that.
With little fanfare, a small grey mare with curious markings sped into sight with the two dragons. They all carried grass (as far as he could distinguish) and seemed terribly frantic about it. She tended to the stallion's face immediately, bidding him to eat. Poppy seemed to be an expert in such arts, and the little appaloosa could do nothing more than watch in awe.
When the herbs had been relieved, Dei flitted over to his bonded, chortling happily at Smoke before landing gracefully on the broad dun back.
Something Poppy had said made the chestnut balk in fear, eyes shiny in the soft light of the waterfall. It had made Poppy nervous too, and she began speaking quickly - too quickly. Jack's mind reeled with her chattering and he felt his body tense. What was wrong? He pressed close to his aunt, watching them over the strong curve of her back, slate eyes wide. He had heard the word fire, but did not see any. Perhaps it was a magical fire - invisible? Dei barked quietly, a plume of smoke unfurling itself from his tongue.
Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT |
|
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath
Kachie |
The dynamics of the interactions that flowed amongst them were closely observed by the grulla mare, the rise and fall of tension within Asur and the level of activity in Poppy and Jackal's quietness. And then chaos broke out... had Smoke a hand to press against her dusky forehead, she would have then, as Asur and Poppy both reacted rather dramatically to some perception of fire.
A weary sigh rumbled out of the mare before she stepped forward and placed herself between Asur and Poppy, pretending not to catch the scent of smoke that wafted into the air from behind her, where Jackal and Dei were. "There is no fire and nor will we be using any tonight." She spoke up firmly, looking from stallion to mare with a look that brooked no argument. "Poppy, will you make up a poultice for Asur's face with the herbs you have? Asur, we need to clean your wounds before we apply anything to them. Zaffre is already getting some moss to wet in the pool with which to wash them."
The blue had darted off just before the fuss got out of hand, and now flew back with front legs grasping a dripping bundle of moss. He settled on Smoke's haunches, and trilled softly. "If you would lean your head over my back, Asur, Zaffre will clean your wounds and then apply the poultice that Poppy makes." Her demeanor had softened again, with the intent of encouraging calmness to proliferate here. Her gaze flickered back to Jackal, and she offered the colt a smile.
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