the Rift


[OPEN] wind and sand

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

 

sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:



A dry tendril of sand whisks across the desert, serpentine and wild.  There is something in its erratic course that makes my heart feel deep and heavy, as if one of the caverns in the Heart had miraculously replaced the real one; I’ve felt this way often.  It’s become almost comforting, the solitary silence, the deep depth of yearning and sorrow that I have no name for, the words more easily described with images.  Images of wind roused dust, swirling madly across a red sea of sand, or rain pressing down into the soft edges of an exposed hillside, carrying chunks of the earth away with it, seem almost too pristine a portrait of life to not admire, even if they carry with them this feeling.
 
"If you could predict its course, would you?" I ask my buck, arriving alongside me.  His horns, once small nubs, are now definite protrusions, with several prongs attempting to evolve beyond their rounded, growing state.  The same wind that chases (or carries, I am not sure which) the sand across the world brings the smell of the vines growing from the base of those horns to my nose, a scent which I am loathe to admit is comforting.  He meets my eyes as I breathe deeply this passing peace, the gold flecks within the emerald depths glinting with thought as he ponders the question.  Glancing out at the whirling dust, he looks back at me, nodding no.
 
I smile, feeling that heavy blanket of sensation ease ever so slightly at sharing this opinion with Duir.  More often than not, we agree, unless the question is whether or not to run to or from danger.
 
"Me either," I admit aloud, wondering when the bond of thought will cement between us; I feel crazy having a one conversation with a deer.  He often feels frustrated at being left with only implied emotional states and crude gestures. 
 
"It would be less beautiful that way," I continue, glancing down to Duir’s nod of approval, both of us looking back out at the desert with soft, sad smiles, waiting for the wind to die, and the dancing sand with it.  Even when the glittering cloud descends upon the backs of its brethren, however, the same deep, beautiful sorrow remains for some while, beginning to fade the longer the Sun beats down on my dark coat without any alluring distractions.
 
I guess discomfort due to physical elements is better than the emotional hurt I’m shoveling memories of dust devils and deer over top of.  The buck, a caring sort of fellow, has spent the past week trying to help me deal with my hurt feelings, and jilted ego.  It’s mostly got him horribly emotional conversations or swift kicks, sometimes both, but, today, for the first time since Uncle Deimos attacked me, I’ve managed to find something else.  Sure, its moderately depressing, and certainly less exciting than our usual endeavors, but it’s better than shouting or glaring at my friend, after all.
 
As if announced by my thoughts of him, Duir’s consciousness becomes evident in my own; thirst and being hot are prevalent, despite a desire of some sort (which I assume is to linger, in hopes another dusty wind arrives).  Being the older of the pair, and attempting (often failing) to be responsible, I nudge his shoulder with a cocoa rimmed nose. 
 
"Let’s start back toward the Rotunda," I say, having chosen the odd structure to be my base of operations while I figured my life out.  Eager to be in the shade, the nod I’m returned is solid and swift, and together we set off toward cooler realms.

 

sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Erthe

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Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#2

The wind continued its solitary race across the land and hit Erthë full in the face. She swore loudly as her eyes and mouth filled up with sand, already in a dark state of mind that certainly did not improve with this. At least now she had a good explanation for the running eyes and croaky voice, if anyone would think to ask about it. She hated crying, hated letting others see her cry and, most of all, she hated that she couldn't get over the reason why those hateful tears kept appearing in her eyes.

Blinking and grimacing at the discomfort, she looked up and noticed a dot moving across the plain some distance away. Through her blurred vision it was hard to make out any features, but the scent that came drifting on the wind was vaguely familiar.

Great. The last person she wanted to see such a display of weakness, and there he was trotting along like some cruel joke.

She could ignore him and just get on with her own business. It would be the sensible thing to do, seeing as they weren't friends and just barely on the neutral side of mutual dislike. The times they had bickered and quarreled stood out more vividly in her mind than that one, awkward time spent in the Rotunda, where she had forgotten why she followed after him in the first place and accomplished nothing. He was still a stranger, his motifs and reasoning as unknown to her as how fish managed to breathe under water.

What did she even want from him? Friendship? Well, to not be enemies would be a decent aim at least. It was kinda fun to bicker with him, in the same way she enjoyed poking fun at Volterra, but unlike with her big black friend she found little in the way of humor about Rikyn. Did he ever laugh and joke and play around with others? The thought was odd, hard to reconcile with her picture of angry eyes and back-turned ears.

Perhaps she just hadn't been around enough to see it. OR something about her made the unicorn see red, she wouldn't know.

She remained on the spot for a while, hesitating as she watched the dark smudge slowly move across the expanse. Conflicting thoughts and feelings tumbled through her mind, and slowly - not quite as reluctant as she would like to be - Erthë started forward, her course angled in such a way that they eventually would cross paths.

Better just do it, she was heading in that direction anyway. Yes, lets tell ourselves that.

ERTHË
I’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
Image Credits


@Rikyn

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| 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


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


The nagging sensation of being watched builds. At first, it had been only a vague tickle, and I’d ignored it, as I mostly am now, but for occasionally scanning what I can see without turning my head. Now, it had become enough of an irritable sensation that even my youthful buck had become wary, his cheerful bounding having evolved into clustered leaps of watchfulness. The pauses between his forward movements include his looking about himself carefully before bounding on, which, of course, leads him to discover her first.

Glancing over towards the north, I see her. A snowflake of annoyance limping quite miraculously through the desert, at an angle that will, eventually, force our paths to cross, if one of us doesn’t yield, or divert. Figuring its been her who has been staring, and making Duir’s instincts fire off like Rexanna’s magical color bursts, I’m already slightly annoyed with her.

It seems to be her talent, I think with an amused smile, wondering if she was raised by a cloister of professional aggravators. It makes it a little bit easier not to bite her face off when, eventually, we are close enough that she could hear me call her a bitch under my breath, if that’s what I wanted to do.

For half a second, it is. I decide against it, however, finding that I’d rather hold on to what shreds of a good mood I might have for the day. Stopping, much to the anxious horror of Duir (who is immediately hiding behind me, both interested in the events and worried that they might be negative – at the least - all the same), I greet her with the most friendly grimace of a smile I can manage.

It’s not like I really want to talk to her, after all, but she’s here. I have some manners, after all, and, besides…

Has she been crying?!

The sight makes that small voice inside my head throw its arms up in warning. My conscience both mocks and pities the sight. Another part of me wants to know what has upset her, so we can poke fun at it, while another asks to give her sage advice like we did for Glacia. Duir nearly explodes with empathy, peering around my hindquarters in a sickeningly concerned way. All these emotions tussle for prominence in my thoughts, leaving me adrift on a spinning island of awkward for some time.

"How’s life, Hobbles?" I ask, already feeling the sun trying to bake me into the ground. It’s a joke, one that she’ll probably take badly, but I put on the easy grin which accompanies such uncouth humor regardless.

sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Erthe

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Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#4

She regretted her choice of action as soon as the blob on the horizon grew into the discernible shape of a stallion. What was she thinking, throwing herself at the mercy of one of her least favorite persons in this world? Did she want him to poke fun at her? Erthë had never considered herself to be masochistic before, but then again her actions in the past could make the sanest person doubt themselves. Maybe there was a stroke of insanity running through her family tree - not that she would know, as she barely knew anything about her parents let alone extended blood relatives - it would certainly explain a lot.

Rikyn stopped when they had come within talking range - not so close as to feel cozy, but not so far as to have to shout either - and the filly did the same, still scolding herself for being an idiot and what was she thinking, and was that a deer hiding behind the big, bulky, inexplicably handsome aggravating unicorn?

His choice of greeting made her grimace, and the smile that forced itself onto her marble face was rather strained.

"Oh, you know. Dragging along, you could say. It'll be better when the snow comes and I don't feel like I'm constantly melting." There, wasn't she a good girl for not taking the bait? No explosions, no snide retorts, no sassy replies. She was being positively boring.

Pale eyes trailed over the young man in a seemingly casual way that took in more than it appeared to. It felt strange to realize that his features still were foreign to her; Rikyn had been a presence for a good portion of her life, if perhaps not a very prominent one, and in her mind Erthë had formed a picture of him that wasn't all that accurate. Certain things always managed to surprise her whenever their paths crossed; like how big her actually was, and how vibrant the gold of his eyes could be whenever they weren't narrowed in irritation.

It unsettled the young mare that she couldn't bring herself to think of him as ugly no matter how much she wished to; she was grateful to have something new to look at, quickly turning her attention upon the young stag instead.

"Who might this be?" she asked, unaware of how much her face softened while facing the cerndyr. "I don't recall seeing him last time we met..?"

Rubbing her dry, itching eyes on a knee she glanced back at Rikyn with the half question hanging in the air.

ERTHË
I’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
Image Credits


@Rikyn - ugh muse died halfway, sorry if it's patchy

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| 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


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


Instead of shouting, the tear damp snowflake returns my joke with her own play on her bad leg. My smile arrives swiftly, a small bark of laughter rewarding her humor, followed by a nod that completely understands the desire for cooler weather. Hell, just look at me, and the dark blotches beneath me, where the sweat drips off my dark body in steady supply. She’s not sweating at all, as I now notice, and it makes the smile that had risen on my lips fade ever so slightly in envy.

"I couldn’t be more in agreement in that regard," is an off-hand comment over the course of my thoughts and wonders. Why isn’t she sweating? Had she only just left somewhere cool (where? Even the caves were stifling), or, was it possible that the chill I’d felt the last time we’d met, seeming to emanate from her wings as they delicately breasted the wind alongside me, truly had come from her?

It’s an interesting notion, but it’s not like I’m about to hug her to find out. I could just ask her, but she’s already leering down my flanks at the hovering moron behind my haunches. Having been noticed, the buck feels all his muscles tense up, his head lifting, small antlers twinkling where they are corded with feint strands of metallic shine. Still, the girl seems to look at him with much more enthusiasm than her forced friendliness towards me, and so, he doesn’t bolt, or attempt to hide. He simply stares back at her with his big, youthful green eyes, the hot wind buffeting against his chocolate coat.

"He, well, hatched, as weird as that is for a deer to do, at the beginning of the beginning of summer," I answer, not giving her his name at first. I’m more hung up on the wonder of exactly when it had been in relation to the last time she’d bothered me, a wonder that is as annoying as she is. Who cares? She doesn’t matter. She’s only a hybrid girl with a lack of better sense, as the feathered horses seem to be prone.

Even if she’s one of the only people who’s tried to be your friend, aside from Erebos, and Aelin…

"I called him Duir," I smile, despite the loathsome stream of thought that swims between my words. It’s mostly because, at the end of the day, I love my companion, and talking about him makes me happy - even if he is a coward. Who the hell is wary of a female midget cripple, anyway? Get your act together, buddy. "He doesn’t seem to mind the decision much."


sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Erthe

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

Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#6

For being such an awkward standoff, this was going remarkably well. They were talking, actually conversing like grown people, as if they hadn't spent every second in the past fighting some pig-headed battle over who was more impressive. Rikyn even laughed at her self-deprecating joke, and it was such an unusual sound that Erthë did a double take and stared at him. Had he ever done that before? No, not that she could recall. In fact, this was the first time where his smile hadn't been more than a curve of the lips, a brooding line of dazzling misery that only made him look grumpier.

The effect was remarkable. Though both the mirth and the brightness that flashed over the black-pointed features lasted only moments, it was enough to illuminate the young man in a light not so tainted by prejudice or misconceptions. Something strange fluttered through her stomach, swift and ticklish like a butterflies wings... It disappeared almost as soon as it came, but the sensation that lingered was peculiar indeed - like the taste that lingered in the mouth after eating something sweet, or the tender ache in the soul when she watched a sunset.

Weirded out by herself, Erthë had to restrain herself from physically shaking the head  and forced her attention away from the unicorn and back to his bonded. It was much easier to smile at Duir, far more gratifying to hear about his peculiar birth than think about this stallion or her feelings about him.

"Really? And egg? My father has a bond too, but Vlasi was already big when I was born. I wonder if all companion creatures do that... I saw the hatching of a dragon before, but you kind of expect them to come from eggs, don't you..."

It was an intriguing thought, one she would have to look into... sometime. Right now she was.. busy. Guilty eyes turned towards the horizon, the sun-baked desert landscape tugging at her while the taste of guilt grew stronger on the tongue. She ought to keep moving, needed to get this over with...

But it could wait a few more minutes, right? Just a few, so that she might forget a little while longer.

"Duir is a great name" the filly cooed, her eyes returning to the young stag. As the smile returned - faltered for a moment, flickering like a candle in the wind - Erthë made to sidle over towards the companion, driven by a sudden urge to touch it.

"A very good name indeed, suitable for such a handsome fellow. How did you come by such a treasure, Rikyn?" His name felt strange in her mouth; rough and uneven, the sharp edges not quite worn down. Was she pronouncing it wrong? But it would be weird to say it again so Erthë reached out for the deer instead, deliberately distracting herself with how soft the brown pelt looked, how pleasant it would feel beneath her nose.

Would it be permitted? Or would the skittish creature hide behind its brother again, unwilling to be so intimate with someone like her?

Halfway through the motion Erthë faltered, doubt and fear of rejection paralyzing even her own thoughts.

ERTHË
I’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
Image Credits


@Rikyn

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| 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


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


She’s as amused by the idea of a deer hatching out of something as I was watching it happen, though it hadn’t really been an egg, per say. She talks about her father, she gives the name of his companion (Vlasi, like I’d remember it if my life was at stake), and prattles on about dragons naturally coming from eggs. Only girls can put that much information into one sentence, maybe children, of which she’s definitely both. I swallow down those clever insults and latch onto the first thought I’d had (and managed to hold onto) during her reign of topics.

"It was more of an orb, really," I elaborate, not liking that she’d be walking around spreading misinformation if she was allowed to continue the thought that my deer had come from an egg, "but, yeah. Dragons come from eggs. Zephyrs too, probably. I wouldn’t know for certain. I’ve only ever seen Duir arrive into the world, and I never listened to my lessons very well."

Kyst arrived with mother one day, new as could be, and Kirchoff, well, he’d just always been there, a part of my father. Erebos had found his kitsune while I was away. While I certainly wandered around enough to have seen more of the creatures being born, I also tended to skirt around people when I noticed anything intimate or potentially awkward happening, which was surprisingly more often than you’d think.

Erthë looks off into the distance anxiously. I note it passively, the slightest rising of my eyebrow indicating I’d noticed at all, mostly because I know how to wait for when nosiness will have the most payout.

She covers the gesture by encroaching closer on the buck, her dainty, white figure also, by default, pressing closer towards me. Feeling every pore on that side of my body tenses up, as if her hybridism would jump through my flesh somehow (that is just ridiculous, skin); my teeth grit together impulsively, and my long tail sweeps up around my opposite side. Trying not to be obviously dickish about it, I step to the side and pivot away, exposing the deer (who stares with wide-eyed in shock at my betrayal). I’m so horrified that she’s almost touched me that I don’t notice the cool which had emanated from her at first, and when I do think to think of it, I find myself distracted, trying to recall what she’s asked me.

Duir, also, feels fear fleetingly tear through his system, his head pulling back and up, and his large, soft ears tilting back. He doesn’t move, however, finding something within her crystal eyes that holds him still, and while his heart beat thunders through my head (alongside everything else), I manage to piece together enough of her words to reply - within good time, even.

"Orbs, ironically enough," I laugh distractedly, thoughts now turning more to the sensation of her body near mine as being cold, rather than just insidiously close, "a bunch of them were having a party about some pillar. I, err…"

Gods, it sounded so not cool describing this situation out loud. And why did I care what stupid Erthë thought, anyway?

"Well, they liked my humming the best, I suppose," I cut short the tale, while still including the vast majority of what had occurred. I won’t get into the deeper facts of the matter.

Besides, she’s now stopped her progression towards Duir, as if some invisible thing has grabbed her ankles. He nervously looks down at them for the perpetrator, and, finding nothing, looks over at me curiously. I shove my nose at her roughly, as if telling him to get this stupidity over with. She’ll stare at him all fucking day if not, and I don’t have time for that. I have questions that need answers, and places to be.

So he closes the distance, hesitantly, of course. I roll my eyes dramatically and earn a wave of hurt feelings for the gesture. Still, he slowly stretches his nose out towards the snowflake, a wave of surprise rising from him as he touches his muzzle to her tentatively. More boldy, he reaches out to touch her again, tiny hooves carrying him a step or two closer in the process.

The sensation of chill that is paired with it answers one of my questions, at least.


sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Erthe

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#8

Though focused on the deer it didn't pass her by how Rikyn moved away from her. Any other time she wouldn't even have registered it, payed no heed to a simple need for more space when someone unfamiliar suddenly invaded the safety of ones personal bubble. Today though, today her heart was rubbed raw on memories and the passage of time, bruised and weighed down by loneliness she normally carried without effort. He simply stepped away but for all the girl knew he might as well have kicked her in the chest; the feelings were quite similar and left her just as winded and confused. Why did he do that? To let her reach the companion easier?

Unusually considerate, this is Rikyn after all.

Had she come too close, was it something she'd said or was there something wrong with her? Maybe she smelled bad (it had been a long time since the last river, much too long since any rain had fallen to wash away the stains from her pale body) or.. had he noticed the chill that emanated from her skin, and been repulsed by it?

That was it, wasn't it.

Words filled her ears as the man kept prattling on, words that would have been interesting a moment, a breath, a heartbeat ago. Now they filled her ears with pointless noise as she stared fixedly at the Duir without really seeing him, intentions and hopes and desires wilting along with any interest she might have had in this conversation. A dead weight was building in her chest and it was heavy and dark and painful, like un-shed tears and the pressure in the head before a thunderstorm. Cancerous, it numbed her body until she could barely feel the sun beating down upon her and filled her veins with ice - that hateful ice that she loved and detested, soothing and repelling and bringing naught but grief - until she stood there, stiff as a marble statue.  

Then, quite unexpectedly, something touched her nose. It was warm and soft, a bit ticklish. There and gone again, and Erthë blinked, peered through the blizzard in her soul and out into the blazing sunlight, onto the sweet, kind little creature that met her awkward gesture and closed the distance she had begun to fear was unbridgeable. Again he reached out, the tender touch so searing hot against her icy skin that she flinched visibly; without warning, without even quite knowing why the filly felt tears fill her eyes again, too quickly to repress.

Abruptly she pulled away, her movements jerky and unusually clumsy as she stumbled backwards and jerked her head aside, off so that they wouldn't see her blink furiously, struggling and failing to keep those hateful tears under lock and key. This was stupid, so utterly ridiculous that she had no words to accurately describe it. She was appalled at herself, yes that sounded good, and utterly embarrassed - crying out of nowhere, mortally wounded by pebbles and nothings and in front of him of all people - and though she knew it was rude and cowardly and pointless Erthë turned her back on Rikyn.

"I, well.. need to get going. Need to be somewhere, gotta hurry - " she said, croaky and hoarse and much too aware of how utterly bogus that was - not even Rikyn could be fooled by that, not even he would be able to miss the shameful weakness that leaked down her face, drawing frozen rivers down the cheeks. "It was - well... Bye. "

She was about to say nice, but Erthë was not accustomed to lying, nor was her head working fast enough to come up with another option. So she broke off, shrugged after hesitating for a while, then began to hobble off towards the south with the parting word hovering awkwardly in the air behind her. Oh she had to go, had to leave, had to get away from questions and scorn and the laughter she was sure would pierce her back. Not bright and beautiful and startling in its warmth but cold, hard razors to cut flesh from bone and rupture the last vestiges of pride she still possessed.  


ERTHË
I’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
Image Credits


@Rikyn - She's not gone, just trying very hard to disappear xD Feel free to stop her or laugh or do whatever, really. Silly bae, so dramatic.

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| 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
#9


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


It seems to be going so well for once, my scathing tongue having been mostly restrained, and her equally annoying one stilled by whatever had caused the moisture on her cheeks. Despite her sadness being the only reason we were getting along at all, I feel rather positive about the encounter. I don’t normally share much about myself with others, and part of me praises my higher spirit for treating her as a person, and not just a mark on the smooth face of my “perfect world.”

Duir’s reaction to her random jettison from the conversation is almost more entertaining than my own. Standing where he had been with his mouth open, even after I’ve pivoted about to chase after her, his entire being hums with a jilted sense of confusion that would be funny, if I wasn’t so aggravated with Erthë for managing to ruin everything, literally every time we meet.

My confused expression quickly seals into the usual one I wear when I talk to this annoying, maimed gnat of a creature. The customary pinning of my ears accompanies the sweeping strides of a canter that is laughably fast in comparison to her lumbering escape. Still not entirely sure why I’ve bothered to chase her down instead of proceeding on my merry way, no longer absconded by poorly bred annoyances, I cut her off, boldly using my size and strength to my advantage. Duir scampers in alongside me, his eyes wide, and apologetic, even before I unleash a rather commonplace (for me, anyway) tirade.

"What the hell, Erthë!" I manage, perhaps not the most eloquent of beginnings. Still, you don’t just walk away from me in the middle of telling a rather important life story that you fucking asked for. "I’m not an idiot, and I also don’t like wasting time on some bitch who thinks her problems are more important than, I don’t know, courtesy, or not lying to my face. What’s wrong, anyway?" Well, that won’t work as a closer. It makes it sound like I care or something. Lifting my head up in arrogant denial of such a concept, I haughtily include: "Get a good look at yourself in a mirror or something?

[ OOC: omg rly -facepalm- ]

sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

Wishlist - Plots

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Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#10

She was, in all honesty, surprised to hear him chase after her. Oh sure, she had done the exact same thing during their last encounter, thoughtlessly chased after the disappearing back of someone she disliked utterly, but never in her life would she have imagined that Rikyn would do the same. What was even with this situation? Apart from his anger and her tears the situation was exactly the same, only mirrored and displaced from that windswept, sandy beach.

She missed the ocean, this time. In the infernal heat it was impossible to blame her tears on salty stains from the sea or too much sand in the eyes. The wind that could have aided her in the lie was long since past them, and the ground contained more rock and compressed dirt than sand anyway. She had no excuses, nowhere to run, and today she couldn't even muster up that usual spark of anger to fling Rikyn's jibes back in his face. It was a hateful situation, all in all. For long moments she just stood there with the neck bowed and wings drooping so much that the feathers trailed in the dirt, salty rivers paving their way down her cheeks. No point in running. No point in hiding. No point in pretending to be strong when she really wasn't.

If only he had actually cared, instead of flinging the question at her as if it was a weapon, as if daring her to say anything but 'nothing' or 'no point in telling you'. Did he expect more lies, more attempts to escape, more excuses? Maybe he did, maybe he didn't - Erthë couldn't tell anymore, and she really wasn't sure that she cared anymore. He moved away when she got close - it was enough of a truth for her.

Then, if she got really close, like, up close and personal, maybe he would leave altogether? A thin smile, bitter and tear stained, appeared on her lips. It was worth a shot.

"Oh, nothing much. I'm just on my way to see if there are any remains left after my moms body. She died in the third Rift war battle, see, and it's my fault she's gone, so I thought a little visit would be in place. Least I can do, you know. Go ahead, Rikyn, laugh. I'm crying because mommy is dead, isn't that hilarious."

Raising her head she met his gaze and took a step forward, prepared to see his angry expression change into one of scorn, of disgust, or perhaps even amusement. This time she would be ready; she had steeled herself, all barriers raised, thorns turned outwards to repel whatever retorts he might have. They would come, she was certain; this was Rikyn, and she was a fool for ever expecting anything other than meanness from him.



Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking
image credit to Neaqmir on deviantart.com


@Rikyn So sorry for the wait D:

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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
#11


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:



I almost expect her to plow past me and carry on with her day. Any respectable woman surely would have, not bothering to stop and appease the bratty boy who dared demand she talk about the things locked away inside. It’s how my mother would have handled it, or Xynia, if I didn’t get stabbed to boot… but Erthë?

She stares at her hooves, and cries. It is such a despicable display of weakness that I find myself scowling, again filled with the perverse pride that I am a unicorn, of the Aurora Basin, of the Plague. My steel clad heart disallows this sort of whimpering, infantile behavior, and witnessing it makes my mood curdle.

The hot wind billows through again.

So, when the cold reality of why she was crying after all splashes up against that hot anger, the result is an emotional jettison of steam. Snorting with bleak humor, and meeting her peculiar smile with my own harsh frown, I stare down at her as she attempts to use anger to defend her obviously bleeding heart.

Having a similar shard of pain in my heart, you’d think I might care more. My buck even looks at me with a bit of hope glistening in the depths of his emerald eyes, that, today, I’ll at last talk about the dark, festering pit in my soul named Mother.

"What’s funny about that?" harshly, the question strikes forth with too much contempt to disguise the truth, that her words have struck some melancholy chord inside myself. Narrowing my eyes with contempt, my tail swishes irritably behind me, not liking the fetid hurt that comes to mind when I think of loss. "Not a fucking thing."

I think about leaving, just turning away, and walking out into the sparkling, red sea of sand; the more her words rattle about in my head, however, the more tightly the lonesome feeling grips its sharp fingers into my heart, and the more angry with her I become.

She’d thought I’d laugh at her? What sort of creature does she view me as? Either way, how is she managing to act like death was some ultimate surprise, as if, all along, the end wasn’t a promise? At least it had been fate that had taken her world from her, a force that no one ultimately avoided, not even Gods. Mine had simply left me behind, to keep living somewhere else, as if I’d never existed.

Click, clatter. The steel walls and locks around my heart click and rattle into place. The angry flash in my gaze slowly dies, and becomes the muted shine of carefully bound, glass encased emotions.

I refuse to cry for that bitch anymore. She’s dead too, for all I care.

"Nothing is forever," absolutely nothing, especially not the things we have come to love (or the darkness that love leaves behind when it goes, Duir consoles), "if you can't accept that, I recommend laying down with what bones you find, and dying. This world is not suited for you."


sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


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Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#12

Again, she miscalculated. The reaction was less overt than she had anticipated, lacking the bitter venom she had come to expect from this gold-laced marauder. His voice sounded flat and unfriendly even as he rejected her challenge, but though there was no laughter or mockery Erthë wished he could have met her with something other than reason. That cold, brutal logic resounded within her, rang with a degree of truth that left her emotional outburst seem even more ridiculous than it felt. Yet for all that she wished to simply turn off all emotion and devote herself to that impersonal, rational way of thinking, her heart simply wouldn't let her.

"Death is far easier to accept than the grief that follows after it" she responded, tear-streaked cheeks glistening in the light as she looked away.

"Or the guilt over my own part in bringing it about. Maybe it is natural for a parent to die so that the offspring will survive - knowing she would have passed away eventually won't undo the sin of robbing her of those minutes, days or years. Nor will it fill the empty void inside me, Rikyn."

Pressing her lips together the young filly stared unseeing towards the horizon, unable to stop the steady flow of moisture from her eyes. There was little point in trying to describe the ceaseless ache in her chest that made it so hard to breathe, or indeed to try and convey the intensity with which she detested her own fortune. To be standing there, to be talking, walking, breathing when Shadow was not - how was that natural? How was she ever going to accept that her life had been deemed more important than her mothers, when her foolish actions had brought about such horrific results?

Perhaps she never would get over this loss. Nothing in this world could ever replace a mother, and even if the pain dulled and the wounds on her heart ceased to bleed, the loss of that most important person would forever linger with her as a scar that never fully healed.

Could Rikyn understand this? Was he capable of accepting such a weakness, and strong enough to carry on beneath that sort of burden? Erthë had never thought of herself as strong, but compared to someone who wouldn't even acknowledge their pain she was a valkyrie, battle-scarred and brave.

"Well. Now you know what's wrong. Was there anything else you were wondering about? If not then I really should go... There's probably nothing there to find, but I have to at least try..."

Tired of weeping, Erthë focused her will and froze the salty water on her face with a thought. Like glittering beads or translucent pearls the tears clung to her lashes, until she with an impatient scowl rubbed them off against a knee.

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking
image credit to Neaqmir on deviantart.com


@Rikyn

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| 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
#13


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


I listen to her in silence, my thoughts not very nice.

Grief wasn’t as selfish as this prattling, bemoaning of a lost parent, so long dead she was apparently unlikely to be found again; how much could she really care about her mother if she’d not noticed she was dead for this long? How could she manage to make the sacrifice of a mother for her child so much about her? It was despicable, in only the way things that make me think about my own awful behavior can be.

Did she not know how badly some people wanted that kind of love? How precious it was, to be unconditionally cared for? I’d followed my mother within hours of her abandoning me and her mountain, and this little bitch hadn’t even bothered to notice her mother was dead until now! Dead, and for her! The one who now went to collect dust, and call them bones!

The clichéd “void inside me” breaks my heavy thoughts, my golden eyes rolling dramatically at her girlish tears and sentiments. I snort, already preparing to leave her to her tears and southward trail of self pity without her equally self indulgent farewell, as I have little interest in telling a moron that she’s, well, a moron. Duir slowly moves to follow me, his gaze lingering on her with a compassionate need to continue to console her, but he is also wary of being left alone.

"Maybe that guilt you feel isn’t because she followed you," I say coldly, with the same faintly irritated, general lack-of-fucks-given tone I've taken on most of this conversation with, "but because you didn’t bother to look for her until now.

"Either way, she’s dead," just like my mother might as well be, wherever was more important to her than the life she already had, "and, ultimately, she’d have died, with or without your help. At least it was meaningful. Maybe you should think about that, instead of just how much it hurts you."

Proceeding to walk away, I glance down at Duir (in a horrible, impish way), my voice projected loud enough for her to hear.

"Might have been, anyway," I continue, sauntering across the red desert, back north to the verdant realms, "is a sacrifice meaningful if no one notices?"

[ OOC: I'm sorry Erthe. D: He's a horrible wretched man-baby of a hypocrite. ;_; ]

sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


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Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#14

If only he could let her leave, quietly and without comment. If only pigs could fly and the clouds really were made out of spun sugar. But wishing Rikyn would shut up was apparently as meaningful as yelling for the rain to stop falling, because he just kept going, his tone snide and disinterested all while he shoved thorns into her wounds.

A funny ringing sound in her ears forced her to strain her hearing in order to pick up everything, and it took some time for the girl to realize that the icy, burning sensation in her chest was not so much withheld tears but anger. It did not rage like a wildfire or explode into existence with the searing flash of lightning, but rather crept deadly unstoppable like a glacier, like winter and nightfall and the inevitability of death. As Rikyn started forward and walked by her she followed his path with eyes so void of emotion that it was eerie, and as he turned his back on her Erthë calmly reached for her bow, pulled it from the wing and aimed down the sight onto the receding backside of the stallion.

Without a sound the arrow flew from the string, magical energy that was so cold that it would burn and freeze its target at the same time. The blinding white light was the only thing to reveal its existence, the path along which it traveled so very short that it would take a lot for the bolt to completely miss its target...

The young valkyrie didn't really care if he managed to dodge or not. Ice was clumping together in her throat and made it nearly impossible to speak, her pounding heart so loud in her ears that she barely heard her own voice.

"You ignorant brat" she said, quiet and deadly as midwinter. "Learn to hold your tongue when you do not know what you speak of."

The bowstring still hummed when she reached for it a second time, the deadly light kindling again as she touched it with cold, numb lips.

"I did not search because I saw her life drain into the sand with my own eyes and felt it stick to my hide, hotter and more terrible than any fire. What point is there to look for someone when I know the spot on which she died better than the place where I was born?"

"I did not return for a year because last time I went to visit her bones, vultures were busy gorging on her carcass and the sight of the carnage nearly drove me from my senses. What meaning is there in seeking out madness, when my only real purpose in life is to remember her and the sacrifice she made?"


Again the arrow flew, carefully avoiding the cerndyr (it had done her no harm, and she pitied it for being bound to such a soulless wretch of a man) as it headed for the gold-stained unicorn. She didn't aim for anything vital, but should the blistering dart of winter and ice strike true she hoped it would hurt him badly, so that he might feel at least a fraction of the pain his careless words inflicted upon her.

"I notice her absence every waking moment of every day, you ignorant child, and if I happen to shed a few tears for my own sake once in a while they will still drown in the ocean I have wept for her!"

Pale feathers ruffled on her wings and shoulders, swelling her to twice the size as the cold voice increased in strength. Erthë's eyes were blazing now, and frost drifted like smoke on the wind as all the water within fifteen feet of her froze; in the air, on the ground, on the mens very hide and skin should they be foolish enough to remain that close. She advanced, steady on her feet as rage drowned out the pain of her limbs, and the bow followed with her hovering just within reach - prepared to serve at a moments notice.

"You're a stupid, thoughtless boy and I loathe the very sight of you. Disappear, and beg to the Gods that I've forgiven your idiocy next time I see you, or I swear I will hurt you for real! Now get lost! GO!"



Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking
image credit to Neaqmir on deviantart.com


Oh boy, buttons pushed. Run, @Rikyn run! :P

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| 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
#15


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


The bolt of cold which slams into my haunches is immediately enough to convince me of two things: that bow is likely about to get chucked into the fire-falls, and she’s about to die.

"What the fuck?! You idiot bitch!" I insidiously growl, not the ice of midwinter, but the hungry roar of molten stone against the brittle maw of the volcano, or the rumbling flash of white hot, destructive light.

Pivoting about with the magical arrow still protruding from my ass, Duir’s frightened bleat sounds through the air as he scampers away, and I charge towards her across the red sand, a faint trail of black, curdled blood leaking from the frost bitten wound. While my gallop occasionally stammers with the stiff pain of the arrow, I let my anger fuel me, my mind numbing itself to the very minor ache I now feel, in comparison to the devastation that is about to befall her.

The second arrow flies past me, expected; did she really think I would just let her assault me, standing still as stone to wait for the rest of her arrows? While I see her lips move in the formation of words, I don’t really hear what she says; I see only the earth colored burgundy beneath her, the thrum of my blood drumming hard in my ears.

My magic is drawn from within me as I charge, the electrical spark of mental agony that will sever the bonds between her thought and her own muscles. A third arrow grazes the flesh of my shoulder, an instantaneously cauterized wound burning as the hot air kisses it. Racing ahead of me, my hooves slowing to allow my focus to be placed more firmly on wresting her will from her, the Spark seeks to drive into her tiny, pathetic body.

She’s shouting at me to go, and I’m laughing, a dark, horrible sound that makes the bond between my cerndyr and I shudder with contempt, and fear.

"You should have let me go, then," I snarl at her, golden eyes narrow and savage, "because I will hurt you, and I can. You think being a self-righteous idiot spares you from pain? That I won’t kill you here and now because you are ever so sad and pompously sure of yourself?"

She can’t escape me on hoof, too broken by her own foolish actions to be of much use on the ground. It only makes sense, then, to disable her ability to fly. Driving towards her with hope that she’s caught in the throes of my secondary magic, I angle myself towards her nearest side, the rush of the assault flooding my veins with intoxicating levels of adrenaline. Striking down (as she’s a diminutive twat) with my golden rapier at the general region of where her wing meets her body, I hope for the squeal of pain I’ve come to associate with these sort of wounds. I follow the motion with the rest of my much larger-than-hers figure in a body-slam, hoping to knock her off her hooves, and to the ground (where worms like her belong).

"Beg to your Gods that I don’t fucking kill you!" comes in savage bouts of gravely rage, my body flowing however it must to continue to try and trap her here, on the earth with me, the monster she’s poked in the fucking ass with a frosty arrow, "you think I am afraid of you?! You can’t even walk properly, you fucking brainless mutant! Even if I am a brat, it doesn’t change what you are either, Erthë! A child, crying because the world isn’t like her fairytales. A child, throwing tantrums, still too fucking dumb to understand that wanting something to be so is not how the world works!"

I want to stab her until her screams become wet gurgles. My whole body is shaking, itching to keep pummeling her for daring to strike me at all. I’m stronger than she is, faster, better; I’ve trained to become a weapon in every sense of the word, and she’s just some naïve girl with more luck than she deserves. To think I’d actually been trying to goddamn listen to her bemoaning in the first place!

"You need to learn to live in reality before you go threatening dangerous people with your self-righteousness and easily taken away magical trinkets!" I ferociously continue, poking my horn at her in an obtrusive way, eager to use it again if she gives me a good reason, "your mother is dead because you act like you can’t die, you idiot! She’d have not been there at all if you didn’t continuously choose to tempt fate without a thought to the consequences!"


sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

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Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#16

Anger felt so much better than sadness. If only she could scream out her grief the way she screamed at Rikyn, perhaps this whole mess wouldn't have happened in the first place. But she couldn't, and it happened, and in her wound up state the girl stopped using her head and raised her weapon, and brought reality crashing down over her ears in the form of a raging beast.

The second arrow missed where the first one had struck true, and before she had time to process the fact that Rikyn had turned and was charging towards her, he filled up her whole field of vision. Shimmering bay beneath which rippled well-honed muscles, horn that glistened with gold and frost and ambient sunlight and all the rage of a rampaging demon. Erthë backed on pure instinct, or tried to but her legs wouldn't move. Her body screamed at her to get out of the way but it didn't work, and she had no idea why.

"No... no no NO STOP!"

He angled the lethal weapon towards her side and it was all she could do to watch as the razor-sharp edge cut through the air and buried deep into her body. White hot agony washed over her and tore a scream from her throat, because there was no swallowing this when she was so unprepared, so shocked, so numb...

Whatever it was that kept her from moving her body was broken by the pain, and in a shuddering motion Erthë flung herself to the side, away from Rikyn and the pain, fear rising to overthrow every other emotion she could have felt. She would never admit it aloud but he was right. She was too confident, too arrogant in her belief that everything would be alright. Though she had always thought herself wiser and more experienced than everyone else her age, she still carried that same sense of immortality that every youth seemed to possess, and she still hadn't learned her lesson. Her mother had died because of it. The relationship with her father was damaged possibly beyond repair for the sake of it. And now, now she might die because of it.

The problem was that she had never taken Rikyn seriously. Though they had argued, yelled at one another and played word games over ugly glares, he had never truly threatened her before. And the girl in her confidence had taken it as respect, as a sign of equality, but... it really hadn't been anything of the sort, had it? All he had seen was a child, a cripple and a freak - mutant? What did he mean by that, she had no idea what he was talking about! - and he was spilling her blood as though it meant nothing, as though they were nothing, had never been teetering on the brink of something more than dislike.

Hadn't they almost been friends, that day in the Rotunda - and just now, before she ruined it? Or had she just imagined it all, hungry as she was for something, anything,

anyone

to fill the hole in her heart with?

Even as she struggled to remain standing on legs that were no longer numb but aching, burning, stabbing her with needles of agony, Erthë reached for her bow again, fumbled and caught the hovering weapon between her teeth. Fumbling and clumsy she tried to turn and aim at the same time, tried to hurry before Rikyn could stab her again, before she was incapacitated, brought down, dead. Blood pulsed from the wound beneath the wing and stained the feathers crimson, the scent thick and heady and nauseating, enough to make her shudder and wince with every little movement.  

Still she leaned back and pulled the string taught, and in a motion both swift and sure - she had practiced a lot since that day when the Sun God threw it at the feet of her dying parent - she fired a fourth arrow towards Rikyn, aiming at his chest this time.

This time, she didn't stick around to see how the arrow would land. Even as the arrow left the sight the filly turned and began to run, staggering and stumbling as light and dark battled for supremacy before her eyes. Flapping the wings was the most horribly painful thing she had ever done but by some miracle the stab had missed the tendons and she was able to get herself up into the air, up and up and out of reach, hopefully before her nemesis could do more damage.

Red splattered onto the ground like red rain in her wake, but she didn't cry this time. Fear carried her south as quickly as she could move, towards the sea and the sand and the safety of a desert island no earth-bound soul could easily reach. Allies, friends, guards...

Maybe she would be safe in the Throat. Maybe he couldn't reach her there.

Please. If the Lord of Light was capable of mercy, he might spare her.


Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking
image credit to Neaqmir on deviantart.com


@Rikyn

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| 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
#17


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


It was amazing how swiftly anger could become pleading.

Sound of pain, and the stench of blood and fear meld into the air; the thud of our hooves as she attempts to flee, and I dance along after her, rises in cadence, in tempo, the thrumming of blood pulsing behind each staccato step. Her eyes are wild with fear, and I steel my own heart against the minute flicker of compassion that bids me to stop.

She has to learn!

The sound of her bow slapping about quiets, though her breath still comes ragged, and fearful, so I find it hard to concentrate on the insidious weapon at all, driven by a primal instinct to protect myself. The red of her blood is bright and beautiful against her skin, the wound obviously deep, each pulse of her frantic heart spilling more and more. I press after her, wanting to tower over her staggering figure, to further impress upon her the foolishness of her actions.

Rikyn! yells Duir from wherever he is, a sharp cry of sheer fear and preemptive pain, bow!

Literally roaring with outrage that she’d fucking dare use it against me again, I don’t balk away as the warning rings through my head; rather, I lunge forward, the hot and cold arrow again striking into the flesh of my shoulder. Aiming my horn for her body again in the evasive motion, I don’t care if it even hits her (or where), as long as she doesn’t kill me before I can slowly beat some sense into her idiot head.

This time, like her first arrow, the projectile sticks, protruding from the front of my shoulder, nestled deep. It’s too close to my chest and bone for comfort, the sort of sharp, fretful pain that immediately makes your insides sink and spin; blackened blood oozes forth among fresh bouts of red, the wound severe enough to bleed despite the magical cauterization. Suddenly, all thoughts of crushing her beneath my hooves are lost in concern that I've just been shot to death by a diminutive, hybrid cripple.

She scampers away while I gawp down at the quivering, magical shaft, assuaging whether or not I’m about to die. Testing my leg to discover it still usable, but no where near trustworthy enough to reliably give chase, I decide to let her run – for now. Laughing darkly at the sight of her insanely stupid, clamoring scramble away from me, and the rich smell of her fear upon the wind and her blood, scattered across the sand, I call after her:

"That’s right! Run, bitch! Try and hide, if you can!"

’Cause I won’t have forgiven you, the next time we meet. That I can promise you.


sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

Wishlist - Plots

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


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