the Rift


[PRIVATE] and all we are left with is embers [earth]

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#1


V O L T E R R A

He knows nothing but pain.

His life is consumed by the creeping, itching sensation of bones knotting together, the uncomfortable tingling of bruises unfolding and spreading across maiden flesh, and the wicked, throbbing agony that heralds each breath. The days have blurred into one, sun blending into moon with hardly a twitch of his mammoth head to acknowledge the subtle passing of time; the only constant is the pain.

Some of the pain is not even his own. Poor, broken Vadir; proud queen of dragons, savage beauty, merry murderess wrapped in golden armour, reduced to a cripple. Her ribs are in an even worse state than Volterra's, with almost every single one on her right side broken by the impact of his earthen fist. She cannot move, cannot hunt, cannot do anything but rest upon Volterra's broad back, relying on her much-maligned red brother to provide her with food. It kills her to be so helpless, and the stallion's mind is a constant red stream of rage and hatred bubbling from the cruel caverns of her mind.

Her ribs will knit and heal, and she will be back to terrorizing the skies in a matter of weeks. Her wounded pride, however, will never sew itself back together like a shattered bone, and her trust in Volterra is permanently shaken.

At first he was apologetic, profusely so. But as she continued to mention it, continued to criticize him ("why didn't you fight back, she's nothing to you, you will be King whilst she beds with the peasants, you should have annihilated her", to paraphrase), he finally snapped. You disobeyed me, he'd roared at her, his mental voice a crushing hammer-blow to her protestations, his entire body tightened and hardened with pulsing rage; I ordered you not to attack her and you did it anyway. Your injuries are your own fucking fault, and I'm not going to take another minute of your whining, Vadir. My reasons are mine and mine alone, and you need to suck it up and get the fuck on with it.

Had Vadir not been so badly injured, nor so stunned into silence, then Volterra may have embraced the grave far sooner than he'd intended. As it was, Vadir had simply hissed her fury and snapped their mental bond down to the tiniest of tendrils; she has reverted into a stony silence, refusing to speak to him or even acknowledge his existence. She rides on his back out of necessity, but blocks out every one of his attempts to converse with her. Their confrontation happened two days ago, but they have exchanged nothing since.

Vérzés is stuck in the middle; he understands why Volterra hadn't wanted to attack Isopia, but he's also keen to stay in the place he's recently found himself - Vadir's good side. The one positive thing to come from the fight is that the two dragons are on better terms than they've ever been before, largely because of Vérzés' willingness to take an attack meant for his golden sister. He hunts for her with hardly any complaints, and she even allows him to examine her wounds. Volterra watches them converse with each other with a tingling ache in the back of his mind that he recognises as jealousy; he has always been their go-between, and now they seem to be exiling him from a bond that exists inside his own mind.

None of this, though - not the persistent pulse of agony in his ribs nor the frosty absence of Vadir's mind inside his own - compares to the rancid ache of Isopia-hurt that pervades his entire body, that soaks into each muscle and each inch of battle-sore flesh like maggots through a carcass.

He has rationalised her actions by putting them down to grief. Volterra is the resident expert of transforming less desirable, less controllable emotions into ones that he understands, namely rage and lust. Sorrow, anxiety, grief, fear, love - they can all be twisted and shoehorned into anger, which he can pump through his body like fuel and wear like armour. In the leviathan's somewhat illogical mind, sorrow is weak but rage is strong, therefore transforming the former into the latter makes him strong by proxy.

He was wrong. He's only halfway through his quest for the Earth God and already he's felt far more - and suffered far more - than ever before. Indeed, twisting those emotions into anger suddenly seems not like strength, but cowardice, because they're a damn sight harder to cope with than his favoured fury and lust.

So he can certainly understand Isopia's actions, but that doesn't mean he's not hurt by them. Physically hurt, of course (moreso than he's ever been before) but mentally as well. His entire mind feels battered and bruised, as though the Mountain's attacks had smashed into his brain rather than his ribs. Barely a second goes by when he doesn't think about it - about how he'd never seen her so animated, about how it really, genuinely seemed like she hated him. And even Volterra thinks hate is a little too strong an emotion to channel from something that isn't technically his fault. Sure, his seed had created the child Isopia had lost, but that was where his involvement ended (or so he thinks). So dazed by pain had he been at the end of the fight, so intent on trying to stay conscious, he'd hardly noticed Isopia's parting words about Aithniel - they are just a dreamy, blurry daze in his mind. If he could decipher them, it would give him a massive clue as to the Mountain's reasons and mindset.

As it is, he is just as oblivious as he was when he stepped into the Fields to be faced with a raging demigoddess; just as confused, just as wounded.

After a few days, now he feels capable of moving again without exploding into agony, he finds himself heading for the Veins. The flower given to him by the serval rests heavily in his mane, a metaphorical weight upon his shoulders; with it, he can speak to a God, and he is hardpressed to think of a time when he needs godly intervention more. If he was entirely logical and lucid, he would question the sanity of speaking to the father of a mare who had just beaten the ever-living shit out of him, but his torment-addled mind is certainly not thinking logically. It is thinking impulsively, as it always does.

So, with his golden dragon resting on his back - a heaving mass of sullen silence, radiating disgust at the man she is bonded to - he hobbles slowly, slowly, towards the Earth God's shrine. Each step is a little droplet of torture; it sends needles of fire into his two broken ribs, like a starving beast trying to rip its way out of his side. His face is a mask of pain, each line hardened and chiselled as though his features are carved from stone rather than flesh. Even his eyes are like gleaming, cold rubies, vivid against the black and white mask. Vérzés flies low beside him, close to his skin as though to offer physical support.

He arrives at the shrine and halts with a languid groan. Vérzés helps untangle the white lily from his mane and places it gently atop the crumbling rock, before landing neatly beside one massive forehoof and twisting his fingers into the feathers of it as though for comfort. Volterra glances hesitantly at the shrine, and takes a second to ponder whether this is a good idea. Regardless of whether it is or not, he ploughs ahead. "Father Earth?" His voice is not the commanding, authoritative bellow that it usually is; it is wobbly, defeated.

image credits


:: [ Item: Magic Flower | White lily that will never wilt, glows white; can be used to summon any God for a God Chat. ]

Vol is using the flower from the God Chat drop to have a chinwag with Earthy! :D Set about four days after the fight with Isopia. @Mythical Request

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




God of the Earth Posts: 287
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: 22.0hh :: Ageless
Admin
#2

The GOD of the EARTH

ashes to ashes


The earth rumbled, though not quite so volcanically as it might have done. The God was aware of the injuries present on not only the monochromatic beast who was using his gift to call to him, but also the souls bonded to him. Pain was a teacher that the Earth God approved of and knew well, yet he would not cause further harm to those who sought him out. And so, as the rocks gently parted, seemingly growing the gargantuan deity from their stony crevices, the wake was kept to a minimum. There were no tremors racing outwards from where the earth yielded his body, nor any dust that rose into the atmosphere that could tax the lungs of those assembled.

The God's verdant gaze fell gently upon the white lily. It made him smile to see it placed there. With an appreciative smile, the blossom melded into the stone, creating an outline of where it had been, etched into the rocky monument. "Volterra." His voice was a gentle rumble as his gaze settled upon the gladiator. He had not expected to see Volterra so soon, for his quest had not been completed yet. He didn't mind of course, for it was rare that he had the opportunity to merely mingle with those who inhabited Helovia, rather than merely serving as a means to some end that they desired.

"You seem.." The God's voice trailed off as his stare roamed over the healing body, the dropped head, the submissive stance of the man before him. "...unwell." He concluded after a moment, resisting the temptation to merely peer into Volterra's mind and see all that was there and learn of what ailed him. But such things would likely come to light in the course of this conversation. Meddling was a vice often used by his sister. He would not fall victim to that temptation, not when he had been sought out in good faith.

CREDITS

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#3


V O L T E R R A

The earthen giant is heralded with a rumble, and Volterra finally finds the strength to lift his aching head. The black beast respects very few others, given his exacting standards about how those in power should behave, and he displays such respect even less often; Father Earth, however, is a clear exception. Volterra's skull dips in a nod of greeting, an almost humble acknowledgement of the sheer size and power of the God he has sworn his allegiance to.

The great deity has passed that power down to his daughter, too. Through the tiny tendril of bond that Vadir allows the stallion to keep, he feels an ebbing of cold hatred.

But now the Earth God is here, Volterra feels suddenly extremely small and extremely stupid. What right does he have to simply call a God to him for a chat? He hasn't completed his quest, he isn't asking for anything - will Father Earth think him a time-waster? The beast is unaware that the Gods might actually enjoy being summoned just to talk, instead of pandering to the shameless greed of the Helovian populace. No, Volterra assumes his presence is an inconvenience to the great God, and he has half a mind to simply leave before he is smited like an annoying fly dismissed with the swing of a tail.

He only resists because the God's voice does not sound angry or irritated, and he reminds himself that Father Earth has always appeared to be the most grounded of the Gods (no pun intended). It is perhaps unusual for one with as fiesty a temper as Volterra to have allied himself with the most level-headed, gentlest and kindest of the four Gods, but it is not like the giant deity is a benevolent pushover. He could crush mountains with a careless twist of a hoof, drop boulders like snowflakes onto the heads of dissenting rebels, carve the earth into fissures to consume the corpses of his vanquished foes. He commands respect with his enormous size and presence, and emits an aura of power and shameless might; that is why Volterra favours him, and why he chooses to wield his magic rather than anybody else's.

But that is not why he feels the way he does about Isopia. That is all because of her, not her esteemed sire. Still, the two are now instrinsically linked inside his mind, and when he looks at the God he can't help but see the marginally less colossal lines of his daughter. In those kind green eyes, he sees gold. He knows that great body can command the earth he stands on, bid it to rise and slam into his ribs with the force of a freight train.

He knows that earth can smash into his heart, too.

You seem...unwell. The brute tries to sigh, but it hurts too much. "I..." Volterra has never been the most wordy of beasts, but now he truly feels devoid of anything to say. Vadir sulks heavily on his back, so he cannot look to her for inspiration, and her red brother is even worse with words than Volterra is. "I have been better." How much should he say? How much does the God already know - surely he is omniscient?

"I am sure you sicken of the petty problems of mortals," he rumbles, his voice still tender and softer than usual due to the pain of his ribs and the ache in his heart. "But do you have time just to...talk?" He feels small, stupid, like a sickly child asking his father to humour him with a mock spar or adventure. Asking a God to talk to him...His uncertainty shows vividly on his face as he half-expects Father Earth to shoo him.

image credits


@Mythical Request

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




God of the Earth Posts: 287
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: 22.0hh :: Ageless
Admin
#4

The GOD of the EARTH

ashes to ashes


The God listened with the patience of a river. Volterra was like so much upturned sediment, slowly and decidedly falling back into place in the river bend. But before that count happen, a confusion of particles had to appear; an apparent cloud of disorder. And then, as if by some unseen hand, the water would clear and all would be as it was before it was disturbed. Something similar, the God judged, was happening in both Volterra's mind and his soul. And, like the river, the God allowed the process to complete without hindrance.

"Haven't we all." The God interrupted, something like a sad smile on his heavily bearded lips. His voice was whispery, almost paper-thin sounding and tired. Bowing almost apologetically, the earthen stallion indicated that he was listening, and that his interruption was merely the interjection of an old man, and not anything the younger stallion needed to pay attention to.

A wider smile appeared on his lips, a genuine one this time. His emerald eyes looked overly Volterra with that same sort of sadness. So often he heard that sentiment, Aren't you tired of this? He heard it from those who visited him, and from his siblings. From the mortals, it was often offered as a way to ... to soften the requests they wanted to make from him. I know how you feel big guy, but how about you ... He didn't mind of course, he knew how their minds worked and this subtle manipulation he took as a compliment rather than a slight. From his siblings it was something else entirely, and in fact, it made him all the happier to hear from the mortals, if only to spite them. He had time for them, even if they did not. He always would.

"Of course Volterra." The God rumbled, leaning back on his haunches in a clear indication that he was making himself comfortable. The God's verdant stare fell kindly on the monochromatic creature, who seemed weary both in and out. Still, for the mortals, time was short, and normally they resigned themselves to only the most pressing issues. Despite his ability to peer into the man's mind and deduce the problems for himself, he refrained. "Tell me what is on your mind."

CREDITS

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#5


V O L T E R R A

Tell me what is on your mind. Seven words that create a whole world of possibilities for the blackened leviathan, seven words that give him free reign to spill out his problems towards a man who possesses power Volterra can only dream of. Seven words that offer him the opportunity to unburden his troubled soul and share the deepest, darkest workings of his mind towards an all-knowing, benevolent deity who he is quite sure will keep his secrets safe.

They are also seven words that could ruin him unless he treads carefully. Speaking about Isopia to her father is like stepping towards a minefield - one wrong step, however unintended, and he will be naught but dust.

"I do not even know where to start," he says, with the smallest attempt at a lighthearted chuckle that sends crippling spasms through his side. But of course he knows where to start. There is only one place to start. Her.

"Your daughter, Father Earth, is a remarkable woman." Remarkable is quite the understatement. She is strong, intelligent, mysterious, dedicated. She fights like a woman possessed. She is...the childhood best friend that he'd felt himself blessed to have, and the adulthood more-than-friends that he'd dreamed of since the first time she led him towards her clearing. "We have been close ever since we met as children shortly after my dragon hatched." He thinks fondly of Vérzés; loyal, stoic Vérzés, physically inferior to his golden sister but possessing ten times more trust from Volterra. He, far more than Vadir, understands how much this conflict with Isopia will have hurt his bonded, because he's been there right from the beginning too.

"A few days ago, we stumbled across each other again, and she..." With his muzzle, he gestures vaguely to the broken ribs of his right side. "She revealed that she was pregnant with....with my child." He chances a glance upwards, half-expecting a mountain to be dropped upon his head for his revelation about his activities with the Earth God's daughter. There would be a certain poetry to that, given the damage that a Mountain has already caused him. "But something must have happened - she must have miscarried. And I....I don't know what to do, föld királya." The Hungarian slips easily from his tongue, as it often does in times of high emotion for him. This is one of those times. His chest aches with memories, his mind heavy with the grief that he finally allows to wash over him. It is an odd sensation, one that ripples through him and clings at his innards, pulls at his mind and makes him wonder if happiness is ever a thing that he will be able to feel again.

But then there's guilt, too. Not just guilt for the fact he could have done more to save their child, but guilt for the fact he's feeling grief in the first place. After all, the foal wasn't technically alive - it's not as though one of his living, named, breathing children has died. As a result, he almost feels like he's stealing when he is bombarded by such mourning for something he never met. Does he have any right to feel that way over his unborn son or daughter? Isopia, in contrast, carried the foal; perhaps she even felt it kicking inside her, moving against the walls of its warm, snug home. Volterra felt none of that, only the deep rackings of pleasure at the conception of said foal, a sensation that seems dirty now when he thinks of the beautiful thing it created. He didn't have the chance to develop a bond with the fetus, so what business does he have grieving for it?

He feels like a thief, like he's taking something away from Isopia's emotions by feeling them as well. It is a bizarre sensation, and not one that he can put into words, especially given his limited ability to articulate his emotions at the best of times.

It isn't helped by the fact that he's grieving for his relationship with Isopia, too. No matter what happens from now on, things will never be the same between them. That hurts almost as much as the knowledge of their dead foal, although for entirely different reasons. All of these things brewing around the mind of a man as simple as Volterra, for whom feeling more than one emotion in a day is quite the revelation let alone so many at a single time, combine to make him confused and frustrated.

"I don't know how I can make it better. I don't know if I can make it better. I know there must be more to it, more reasons for her attack than just grief, but I'm too fucking stupid to understand them." Another bubbling geyser of frustration explodes inside him. He has pieces of the puzzle, but not the whole; he knows Isopia discovered his other children, but has no idea what it was about those meetings that led her to turn against him so quickly. He assumes it was because his offspring probably mentioned him being a poor father to them, which in hindsight - given that she would have been pregnant at the time - would have given her reason to be pissed off at the man who seemed to treat responsibility like a hot iron to be dropped or passed around. If only she could see them now, though! He's worked so hard to change, to seize responsibility, to be the father he knows he can be...but it's too damn late, the damage is done. And he isn't sure whether the existence of his poorly-treated children would be enough to incite such rage in her, even when combined with mourning a dead foal.

That only adds to the heady concoction of confusion, and the stallion gives a small, sad snort.

"I'm sorry, föld királya. It is selfish of me to bring this to you, of all people, because you've lost a grandchild as much as I've lost a child." That realisation hits him swiftly and painfully; for some reason he hadn't made the connection, hadn't thought to consider the fact that the God could have had a grandchild had things not gone so horribly wrong. He sometimes thinks that Gods are too powerful to concern themselves with feeling mortal emotions like love and grief, but he knows that is quite the assumption to make. Who is to say that Gods don't grieve? Perhaps they do it more, because they are so much more than just regular creatures. "He or she would have been magnificent." And he allows his mighty head to hang, feeling a hot sting behind his eyes that he cannot place.

image credits


föld királya = earth king

@Mythical Request

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




God of the Earth Posts: 287
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: 22.0hh :: Ageless
Admin
#6

The GOD of the EARTH

ashes to ashes


The God had found that for the mortals, finding the words to describe the pain that they wore on their hearts and sleeves, was often the first step in the healing process.  And so he let Volterra speak his mind, no matter how wandering his thoughts might have been. During the pauses, the God watched with a kind stare and a slightly lowered head, for now was not the time for the intimidating and strong presence that he was normally associated with. He might have been larger than life like the mountains that surrounded Helovia, equally he could be soft in a way that stones often could not.

He was slightly surprised to know that the warrior had used his gifted flower to speak with the God about Isopia. After these long years of dealing with mortals and knowing their minds and hearts, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that one of the most valuable offerings he could have given - a chance to speak with a God about any topic and at any time - that it would be used to discuss a girl. It made the God want to smile, ruffle Volterra's forelock, and tell him that everything would be alright, as any Father would. But of course this ran deeper than a mere heartbreak. This involved murder, treachery, and a great deal of misunderstood conversations. The God did not take this relationship between the monochromatic giant and his daughter lightly, but still the lines on his face sketched a small amount of surprise none the less.

"He." The God said finally once Volterra had finished speaking. The single word sounded dry and tired as it slipped from the God's lips, and his verdant stare seemed deep and troubled. Swallowing exaggeratedly as if his throat had been parched for a thousand years, he cough slightly, and clarified. "The foal was a boy." Clearly Isopia had decided not to share that piece of information, but The God thought Volterra deserved to know, especially now that he had been made aware of the child's (brief) existence. If Isopia took issue with that, she knew where to find him. His duty was not to maintain her lies.

"You are not too stupid." The God began, finally addressing the bulk of what Volterra had come here to say. "My daughter's motives and intentions are veiled at the best of times. If she was upset with you, it is not surprising in the least that the reasons seem difficult to pin down, or understand." The God sighed, feeling as though he owed Volterra whatever explanation he could give, however meager, but also as though he was betraying his daughter. Then again the God did know that she had tried to communicate some of this to Volterra ... The man simply had not understood. Surely there was no harm in just helping to translate?

"Isopia ... thinks differently than most, and when it comes to her feelings, despite her normal nature, she is a poor communicator." Another pause, followed by a deep breath. "I'm sure the timeline of Isopia's pregnancy is no mystery to you." The God began, looking almost uncomfortable with discussing the topic of his daughter's sexual exploits with her partner in crime. "It wasn't long after that, before her sides had really begun to swell that she met both Kid and Zhu." The God frowned openly at Volterra, his face a clear ' :/ ' of disapproval. So many children, so little time, that look seemed to say. And despite the reproductive nature of, well nature, the God clearly did not seem to extend the same expectations of the mortals.

"She might have weathered the knowledge that her child would not be unique to you, or even one of only a handful that you had sired, but .." The God paused again. These weren't facts Isopia had told him, but when he came to her in her clearing, she had bore her entire mind before him, to see and learn as he would. "..she met Tyrath, son of Aithniel." The God's disapproving look softened somewhat, as he thought of his daughter and the hard edges of her life. Aithniel had been the first acquaintance that Isopia had made, so many seasons ago when he had set them about boat-building tasks. Perhaps it was just because Aithniel was her family, or because she was something like a friend, that Isopia took it so hard. "Cousins, you know." The God rumbled, that think before you act twinkle back in his eye. "And so, disillusioned by ... Well, whatever it was she felt between the two of you-" (If his daughter had not yet told the stallion that she loved him, he would not do so for her. That was a secret he was happy to keep). "-she found herself in the middle of a spar. Her opponent's magic ... " He could see Ashamin's magical facsimile, and the very real wound that it caused in Isopia's belly. "... The child would have died instantly. She gave birth to him still-born, and buried him."

CREDITS

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#7


V O L T E R R A

His conversation with Roskuld has descended into a blur, given the constant haze of pain he has been in since. Given that it was such an important conversation with so many revelations, this is not ideal. He remembers some of it, and the knowledge has been filed away deep in his mind - but, at the moment, it is too raw for him to enter that box and free the emotions stashed within. To know that he finally has his answers about Isopia is just too daunting at this moment, and although it strikes him as cowardice to do so, he's refusing to acknowledge them just yet. When he's less volatile, when the recent events have had time to cool down, then he can begin to assess.

So when the Earth God begins to speak, it is almost like new information for the young leviathan. The emotions and the knowledge in the iron box in Volterra's mind begin to quiver, thrashing against the chains he's bound them in.

He, is the first word. A son. The behemoth visibly flinches, averting his gaze from the deity as he allows himself to picture their little boy as he should have been. Alive, perfect. Loved, adored, raised as the prince he is. "I hope he is at peace." Volterra's voice is barely higher than a whisper, but still clearly audible. The pain upon his face is clear to see, written as though in ink across each frown line and distraught twitch of sinew.

A thought occurs to him, and he allows a brief glint of hope to billow across his eyes. He looks up to the God as if in prayer, and the question that leaves his lips is afire with ill-placed faith. "Can you...speak to the dead?" he asks. It strikes him as a stupid question, and yet, and yet...the Gods can do anything. They can bless the living with awesome power, can whisk amulets and companions from beneath their wings, and have the power to evade death entirely. Is it beyond the realms of belief for them to be able to speak to the dead, too? Volterra has never given a great deal of thought to what happens after, but during his few musings he likes to think that you remain, watching over the living. Perhaps a God can break that wall and speak with the lost, know them as they were before they were claimed by the abyss.

The God continues, and Volterra listens despite knowing that the truth - again - will hurt him beyond belief. He has to be brave, even though hearing it again will not be any less painful than hearing it from Roskuld. It'll be worse, in fact, because there's still a part of him that dares believe the spark-mare may be wrong, may have misunderstood. From the Earth God, however, it can only be the truth. The box in his mind wobbles again, but he still refuses to confront everything he already knows. Once Father Earth says it, though, he will be able to evade it no longer. His muscles quiver and he contemplates fleeing, covering his ears and leaving, but he stands tall and firm. Indomitable.

He confirms that Isopia is hard to read, and Volterra finds himself nodding. It is reassuring that, perhaps, it is not just his own rank stupidity that has hidden the truth for so long - that it may be something in Isopia's innate nature that makes her veil her emotions. He knows this. It wasn't long after that, before her sides had really begun to swell that she met both Kid and Zhu. The God looks at him, clearly disapproving, and the stallion dips his head, abashed. Normally he would staunchly defend his life choices and point out that he isn't a swan, isn't monogamous, that he's a horse with urges and natural instinct, but senses that now is not the time. He agrees to an extent; it was too much, too soon. He should have been careful. He wouldn't trade any of his children for the world, but there is a little voice in his head that likes to point out he could still have had them in the future. Three years old is too tender an age to be a father of six, with a seventh dead in the ground.

Confirmation comes that meeting Tyrath was the straw that broke the camel's back. The behemoth gives a sad sigh and stares at the floor, ears flopping sorrowfully to either side. Cousins, adds the God. That is an interesting concept - Volterra always wondered if the Gods were related, but this seems to legitimize it. "It does not excuse me of my sins, but I did not know of Aithniel's heritage when Tyrath was conceived. Szar, the situation is a mess. I love each of my children dearly, and would not trade them for the world. I only wish that I could have explained things to Isopia before she met them - she may have understood a little more." All in all, the situation is a clusterfuck, to use a technical term. Misunderstandings, errors, lack of communication. There's nothing that can be done to alter the past - he can only change the future.

She found herself in the middle of a spar.

Volterra jerks so hard that Vadir shrieks her rage from his back. "A spar," he repeats numbly. Blood has suddenly begun to pound in his ears, and the pain in his ribs seems to have abated slightly as a tidal wave of different possibilities bounce around in his head. "I thought she miscarried." He racks his brains to remember the conversation during the fight, but concludes that no, Isopia had never directly said that the child had miscarried. He'd just assumed....but this changes everything. "She sparred despite knowing she was pregnant?" Surely clever Isopia would know better? Even Volterra, thick as he is, knows that pregnant mares must keep away from the battlefield. Then it hits him, a bullet between his eyes, the thing he's tried not to think about since he heard of the child's death, the thing he's considered during his darkest hours but has never truly allowed himself to believe. "Or she sparred because she was pregnant?"

The world seems to crash around him. His knees wobble, weak, and his brain hammers against the inside of his skull. No. It cannot be true. She wouldn't...would she? He does not believe it of her. Volterra, a man who abhors the killing of children above all else, cannot believe that his beloved kis hollo would do something so...repugnant. She wouldn't.

But what if she did?

"No," he says sharply, to himself more than the Earth God. "I do not want to know." Please don't tell me. He can't have Isopia - and their child's - memories sullied by this knowledge. He cannot live, knowing that their foal's death may not have been a simple accident, a cruel quirk of fate. Given his vow to eliminate everybody who harms a child, he cannot have it confirmed that this happened on purpose. He cannot bear to make the choice between his iron-hard beliefs, or the woman he loves.

"Coward", comes a voice, and he realises it is Vadir's. It is the first word she has spoken to him since their argument; he should have realised she would be listening to every word. He pins his ears and ignores her.

"I hope I am not overstepping my boundaries here, föld királya," he says cautiously; an obvious attempt to change the subject. "But in your opinion, can things be repaired between myself and your daughter?" Hope glows in those eyes again - he isn't asking how they can be repaired, because he knows he has to figure that out for himself. He can't take the easy way out and get the God to sort his problems for him. But he needs to know if Father Earth thinks it possible - because after all, he knows his daughter better than anybody else.

image credits


szar - shit
föld királya = earth king

@Mythical Request

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




God of the Earth Posts: 287
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: 22.0hh :: Ageless
Admin
#8

The GOD of the EARTH

ashes to ashes

The God sighed wearily. He was not surprised at Volterra's question - indeed he might have predicted it himself - but had no answer at the ready. To speak with the dead ... it would not bring the peace that many believed it would. What would a Father say to his dead son? A son who wouldn't know him, who wouldn't understand the words Volterra would say? What was an apology, a preferring of love to someone who had never known pain, who had never seen life? "That is a gift left to the God of the Spark, though my sister and brother dabble with that magic. There are a handful in the dragon's throat who can see spirits. Perhaps they can assist you in whatever it is you wish to communicate to him. Sadly, I cannot."

As the crimson eyed giant tried to justify his position, the God had to remind himself that he was here as a God, and not as a father to Isopia. Given Volterra's exploits the God genuinely believed he knew nothing of Aithniel's heritage. Perhaps he only knew her name, but that was part of the problem Isopia saw too, was it not? Life so carelessly made, wasn't that the reason she had cited for the murder of his grandson? "Regardless of what you knew about Aithniel, or what you had time to tell, or not tell Isopia, life is precious Volterra. You are a man, like many before you. Monogamy clearly does not suit you, and in that I find no fault. But life is precious, and unchecked instinct has never had good consequences. You were created with a mind Volterra. A mind to help guide your instincts, not take a backseat to them. I am pleased to hear that you love all of the children you have sired, but did you plan them? How many came as a surprise to you? I am a Father to more life than you could ever imagine, but never has the life I have created some as a surprise to me." The God paused, his paternalistic advice falling from his lips like a waterfall. "Perhaps you think monogamy restrictive. And perhaps it is. But you are young Volterra, and already you find yourself shackled to multiple heart beats, a prisoner of your own instinct."

The God turned his eyes away as Volterra mentioned the spar; the act that led to the murder of a life near and dear to both of them. The stallion's tentative question brought the God's rustic gaze back to him, and the giant studied the ruby gaze of Volterra solemnly for a moment before he answered. "Truly I do not know. I have never known my daughter to be vindictive or hold a grudge. Then again, I would have never expected her to do the things that she has with you, and because of you, either." His great sloping shoulders shrugged. "I am not the God of Time. I do not see that far into the future..But Isopia values knowledge almost above all else. You kept valuable information from her once, perhaps it would not be wise to do so again."

CREDITS

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#9


V O L T E R R A

The God's sigh provides all the confirmation he needs that his request cannot be met. "I understand. It was a foolish thought." There has to be some barrier between this world and the next, some finality to death, else there is no reason for every living creature to fear it. There has to be some element of threat and mystery to what happens after, else he and thousands of others wouldn't fight tooth and nail to avoid it.

He decides to believe that his son is at peace, safe amongst the stars. He casts a glance upwards, as though he can see the boy's face in the murky heavens, before feeling suddenly self-conscious and looking swiftly back to the Earth God. As much as the God's quest has encouraged him to feel, he still feels raw and exposed whenever he displays a differing emotion in front of anybody. To Volterra, some emotions are private, personal, almost dirty, and grief is certainly one of them.

The deity continues. Volterra begins to feel like a child being scolded by his father, and he gives a sheepish dip of his head. He's torn between his desire to defend himself - because accidents do happen, especially to lustful young men who doesn't quite understand that actions have consequences - and his knowledge that the God is right, he should have been more careful. "You are right, of course." He could try to make excuses - he was young and foolish, he never had a father of his own to teach him how these things happen, but he doesn't. Sometimes it is better to stand tall and take responsibility, to accept the blame, take it like a man and move on.

He knows one thing - he will be more careful from now on. No more children will come in the near future if he can help it. Now his rampant hormones have dulled somewhat, his urge for women isn't so all-consuming. Perhaps he can abstain, a holy monk in the body of a stallion, repressing his desires and living in misery....no, there's little chance of that. He will try, though. That's all he can do. When he is older, when he has a herd of his own, then is the time to start building his empire of loyal offspring.

Father Earth's advice hurts. Volterra, for all his flaws, is a deeply honest man. He does not lie, and he does not deliberately withold information. There just hadn't been the right time to tell Isopia about his other conquests, and to the leviathan's simple mind, it was not an important topic to broach. It hurts him to know that he'd accidentally lied by proxy, something he's always sworn never to do and has condemned in others. He feels dirty, tainted by this inadvertent lie. But he will take the God's advice on board, as painful as it is. Humility is not one of the brute's strong points, but he displays it to the best of his ability as he nods and mumbles "thank you." It is said genuinely, and he knows he will mill over this conversation as soon as his physical injuries abate enough for him to examine his mental ones.

In the silence that follows, Volterra knows that he does not want this meeting to end yet. Winning the flower that granted him the God's company is not an opportunity that's likely to come again anytime soon, so he is determined to make the most of it. "I hope I am not taking up too much of your time," he says, hoping to portray with his tone that he wants to prolong these few stolen minutes with his much-respected Earth God for as long as he can. "I have recently joined the Dragon's Throat, which I believe is the patron herd of the Sun God, in order to help out a friend." His friends are few and far between, and Sikeax...is special amongst those select few. "However, I always imagined myself joining your herd, the Hidden Falls. This is an unforeseen change in my plans, and I do not know what to think about it. I am torn between my desire to help my friend, and my desire to follow my heart towards the place that has always held an allure for me. May I ask what you think on the matter?"

He's almost asking if the Earth God will hold it against him for joining a different herd than his own. It feels like a rather petty question, but it matters deeply to a man like Volterra, for whom the blind faith he has in the Earth God is something entirely unique and cherished within his mind. He does not respect many people, but his devotion to the colossal deity that stands before him is something he values deeply. He likes to think that the God has a tiny ounce of favour for him in return, although this is probably just an arrogant misconception born from his desire to be thought special.

image credits


@Mythical Request

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




God of the Earth Posts: 287
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: 22.0hh :: Ageless
Admin
#10

The GOD of the EARTH

ashes to ashes

The God's massive wing dismissed Volterra's concern that he was taking up too much of his time. He was a God after all, time was a gift given to him in spades. And unlike his brethren, he would happily share some of it with the mortals, when they truly sought him out and weren't merely using him as a means to achieve their ends.

The God listened as Volterra outlined the past few weeks of his life. In truth, the deity was rather surprised to learn that the monolithic stallion had joined a herd; he had always seemed like such a vagrant soul. However that the cause was because of a friend greatly softened the man's heart, and a smile gently creased his features. His empathy and understanding was large enough that he did not hold this against Volterra, as a more bitter man might have. After all, what sort of man abandons his dreams and desires for a friend, but leaves his love (and the God's daughter), alone in her despair? But these thoughts were hardly more than a flicker in the God's mind, before being snuffed out by thoughts of pride and approval.

The God chuckled. "Volterra, despite all that life has thrust your way, you are still very young. An entire lifetime stretches out before you. There is time for you to dwell wherever it is you feel you should be. That you would set aside your ambitions to aid a friend is a foundation upon which greatness is built. If you would ignore those who need you, simply to further your own gains, you would not go far in this life. At least not in my eyes." He added thoughtfully, earthen eyes tilted up at the corners as his smile touched them.

"My brother's herd has always been full of warriors. I trust that your time there will be well spent." Pausing, the God regarded Volterra with a more leveled stare for a moment, before continuing. "And I shall always be here for you Volterra, regardless of where you lay your head and night."

CREDITS

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#11


V O L T E R R A

Father Earth's words land on grateful ears. Perhaps it is foolish for Volterra to think that his herd choices have any impact on somebody like this great God, that the giant before him has any care for the living habits of mortals. But it comes as a relief when the great man says what Volterra had hoped - that choosing to help a friend over personal ambition will not count against him. His misgivings about the Throat begin to fade, and one small weight lifts itself from his mammoth shoulders. Truthfully he doesn't know why he holds the God's opinion of him in such high regard - he only knows that he has dedicated himself to following the huge tribrid and cares what is thought of him.

As much as he wants this conversation to last forever, he knows it cannot. He must take up no more of the Earth God's time, precious as it undoubtedly is, and he has received enough information to think about. "Thank you for your time, föld királya," he rumbles, and his head dips in a nod of respect towards his patron deity. He manages a small smile, although it's as weak as he feels. "I will return as soon as my quest is complete." It is harder than he thinks to complete the deed that the God has set him, and he is determined to go above and beyond what is asked of him to make sure he fully understands the power that he may be granted.

With a grunt of pain, the leviathan turns and hobbles away from the Veins, his mind spinning and his side pulsating.

image credits


Thanks for this thread, I loved it <33

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]





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