the Rift


pick me apart

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#1
I don’t even know why I’m running anymore.

Perhaps it is because my pursuers still haunt me from the back of my eyes, or that this world is entirely strange and different and unnerving, or perhaps it simply feels good to move (because if I stop, if I rest like my lungs and muscles beg me to do, then I will be chased by a different (a more malicious) demon, one that I am tired of fighting). This physical, throbbing pain is so much easier to bear.

Days, weeks, maybe even months have passed—I haven’t cared enough to count the time. All I know is despite the thick snow around me and the white breaths that fog my vision, I don’t feel the cold. My body is damp with sweat, my legs are numb, and my muscles have long-passed the point of bodily exertion. I fall unexpectedly, my legs giving out beneath me without a sign of warning, and suddenly I am tumbling through the trees before landing like a dead heap against the base of a trunk. I attempt a groan, knowing my bony middle is going to bruise.

I lay there for a long moment, in spite of my natural instincts screaming disjointed words from somewhere in the back of my head, instead choking back tearless sobs that silently grip my throat.

Is it over?
I dare to think weakly; even the tone in my mind has seemed to lose hope.

My muscles quiver violently when I finally try to use them. I’m like a child, unbalanced and graceless as I struggle again and again to my feet. When at last I am standing, I haven’t the will left to travel any further. Pressing my shoulder against the rough tree, I lower my eyes, blinking away the hair that has stuck to my clammy, sweat-slicked skin. All the while thinking how good it would feel to let go and cry.


notes; Open to anyone and everyone!
“Speech.”
mihtal

image | coding
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Kiuaji Posts: 40
Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 9 HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Matanye :: African Crowned Eagle :: None Nova
#2



The dorobian serpent has been uncharacteristically quiet as of late, and like a good dorobian noble, he'd never truly kiss and tell his own motivations for laying low. Usually, he might have spun a daring, enthralling tale of debauchery, espionage and a sacrifice or two followed by waking up in the silken sheets of a Korofi noble — sadly all of those were in short supply, and he dared not change from his usual story note.

If there was one thing present, it was wine. While it was no sweet dorobian vintage, nor the pale white nectar which came from the eastern plateaus, it did it's job in keeping the sleuth positively jovial through frostfall. All things considered, he'd been zapped by a god and found himself having a rather sinister if not totally him plan. He was allowed wine.


He's not quite sure why he'd left the comfort of his little cave, Matanye certainly echoed the disgruntled opinion of moving in the cold. He'd never liked the chill nor the snow, the dreadful white stuff belonged anywhere but where he laid his head. Sure, the tales of wild northerners with their rugged beards and thick accent allured him the way one might oogle the most handsome stallion at the gathering, in the end you knew better. You knew that your charming fantasy of being roughed up and loved down was just that. Snow was a darling concept, a romantics vision — the reality was it was cold wet slush and hidden pitfalls.

Kiuaji's companion is the first to spot the smaller mare, her vibrant plumage cutting a striking figure against the winterscape. 'New comer in snow.' her silken voice prodded at his mind, not so gentle claws that pulled him from his internal monologue. 'looks tired.' Her comment drew a hummed sigh from the spy and finally, after trotting a terrible trot with exaggerated steps he broke into a true one.


"My dear, you are going to catch your death out here." His chords are the first to greet her as he finally found her, Matanye's large frame perched in a nearby tree. A beacon for him to follow. He's sure if it was birdsong or tallsun he might have spared her the usual introduction, shaken her hoof and handed her the helovian equivalent of a welcome brochure. Unfortunately it's frostfall, and he's freezing his skinny ass off. There will be no welcome party from the serpent this day, though if others happened upon them, they were welcome to pick up his slack. "Come, let us find you some shelter and warmth, before both of us perish."


 "talk talk talk"




Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts



Credits: Image by Littlewillow-Art @ DA
[Image: kiuajipixel_by_abbie1234_d9nzm2x_by_drea...9nzm7u.png]

"let me shatter your frame of mind, my dear"

force & magic permitted on Kiuaji at all times
with the exception of maiming and death.

Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#3
The steady beat of flapping wings is the first thing I hear, and considering the fact that I’m currently nestled somewhere in a forest, I’m not inclined to any initial alarm. I keep my head low, eyes half-lidded until my vision is distorted to blurry smudges of color, listening to the sound of my breath as it rasps from my lips. Thoughts tumble and leap and twist through my mind—both rational and irrational fears, worry for both the past and future, and the ever-present turmoil of self-inflicted doubt that manages to linger behind everything. I try to numb my mind, not focusing on any particular train of thought as I simply exist against this large tree.

When the stallion’s words reach out to break the silence, I am noticeably (embarrassingly) startled; I feel the ache in my muscles tighten as I jump away, a gasp hitching in my throat while I blink furiously to peek through the mental blinders I had subconsciously raised against the world. Hairs that had stuck to the backs of my thighs from sweat are now torn free as my tail flicks twice in agitation. I tear my gaze away, trying to steady my breaths with measured inhales and exhales.

Finally, (as the milliseconds seemingly turn away into hours) I have enough composure to face the taller stranger. I am aware of every muscle in my face as I appraise him, trying to keep my expression into something of neutral amiableness, though even I can feel the hollowness in my gaze. With a twist in my gut, I notice his appearance is reminiscent of many of those in my homeland, but I am sure he was never a patron of mine (‘how?’ one might demand, because there have been countless men in my life, but let me assure you, I could never forget a face—even if I wanted to).

Shifting the weight of my body away from the stallion (and ignoring the fact that my weary legs have begun to tremble again), I clear my throat before speaking. “Hello,” I respond awkwardly, exhaling heavily from my nose as I press my lips together in a stiff, half-hearted smile. The familiar aroma of liquor clings to the stranger, stirring horrible memories of the balmy nights at home, when drunken men had not been so cordial. “You’re very concerned for a stranger. Is that normal in these parts, or for you?” Worried now that I’m making too much eye contact, I force my eyes to wander, lingering on the tree I had been resting against.

I don’t intend to sound accusing with my observations, but perhaps the tone of my voice is too flat to convince otherwise. After all, for my entire life thus far, very little good has come from a stallion expressing interest in my attention, casual or otherwise. Part of me (beaten, broken, trained) is already expecting his gold and bed—or perhaps more accurately, cold pleasures in exchange for warmth from this winter. Considering the damage already done, I wait uneasily for his response, counting my breaths to pass the time.

-Breathe in- one, two, three -breathe out- one, two, three, four


“Speech.”
mihtal

@Kiuaji | image | coding
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Najya Posts: 90
Dragon's Throat Alchemist atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 15.1 :: 7 (Tallsun) HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
A'mal :: Plain White Dragon :: Shock Breath Kiki
#4

It had been a long time since Najya had returned to the Threshold.  Too long, perhaps. But here she was again, winding through the trees, all but lost in a sense of nostalgia.  The memories returned to her hot and fast and it seemed like only days ago that she had stumbled her way across the border - sides heaving as if the hounds of hell themselves were chasing at her heels.  But those demons had been left behind now - she could no longer feel their hot breath on her fetlocks as they snapped at her legs, but she never truly forgot the sensation.  Today, better circumstances brought her to this place.  Today she had a new home, and she was finally at a place where she truly felt comfortable calling Helovia home.

She picked her way carefully over snow-dusted branches before distant movement drew her gaze.  She watched as a lone mare recklessly tore through the trees - reminding her so much as her initial foray into Helovia that her heart caught in her chest.  Instinctively, her legs carried her in the direction of the stranger, but she knew better than to run. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten her.

When she finally caught up, the mare had already been approached by stallion who was unfamiliar to Najya. Her curled ears flick forward as she catches their exchange before drawing to a halt a comfortable distance from the pair. “Hello!” she offers, with a little dip of her circlet-adorned head. “I’m Najya. Welcome to Helovia,” she offers, politely, though the second part of her greeting she directs specifically towards the mare.

“Are you alright?” the little mare asked, gently, as her hazel eyes flicked between the stallion and the obviously new mare. Najya could still remember how overwhelming it had been crossing the threshold. How desperately she had wanted to find shelter but how she had wanted nothing more than the leave this place and run all the way back to lands that were less overwhelming and more familiar in the same heartbeat.  She entirely aware of just how intimidating this place could be, even though now she knew just how much Helovia had to offer.  It had all been worth it.

On that note, Najya remembered how startled she’d been to see Ophelia’s dragon when she had crossed the Threshold, so to ward off any more discomfort she spoke directly to her own dragon through their bond. A’mal, keep your distance until I call you. I don’t want to frighten her. For her part, the little dragon was not offended in the least, and set off to amuse herself in the treetops out of direct sight of the equines until her bond mate called for her.

“Are you injured? Or perhaps just looking for shelter?” She asked, however she did not press for answers to her queries.

N A J Y A
Image Credit


@Mihtal
@Kiuaji

Please tag NAJYA in all replies. 
Force & magic are permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
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Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#5
-Breathe in- one, two, three -breathe out- one, two, three, four -breathe in- one

I’m still methodically counting my breaths when another voice breaks suddenly into our conversation. I startle again (much to my embarrassment) though, mercifully, not as obviously as I had when the stallion had approached me. Closing my eyes in a long blink and exhaling pointedly from my nostrils, I try to ease the stiffness in my sore muscles before glancing towards our new company, my amber eyes large and flat. Shallow pleasantry attempts to soften the edges of my expression, but I can feel the unease screaming from every pore, and I can only pray that they don’t notice it (very much, at least).

“Hello,” I say with obligatory politeness when the other mare greets the two of us, the lone word falling clumsily from my lips. Don’t forget to breathe, I remind myself. “Thank you,” I mimic Najya’s welcome with a rigid inclination of my own head, the natural law of my low-class heritage forcing me to dip my head well below my company’s. I force a smile, and while it feels strange and unnatural across my mouth, maybe I’m too much of a stranger for them to notice.

Much to the displeasure of my frayed nerves, Najya doesn’t waste much time before continuing. (Or is it a normally appropriate pace for conversation? I wouldn’t know). Her question is gentle and unassuming, but it still manages to echo throughout every thought until my head is ringing with wild speculations of those seemingly innocent words. (What have I given away? What did she see? Am I acting too weird? Do they think I’m a freak?) I manage to hold my smile, but it feels completely different from the second before (worse, somehow). “Yes, I’m fine,” I assure her with feigned laughter shadowing my voice, and I hope that it’s convincing enough. Act normal, I chide myself, I must seem more normal.

What is normal?

Flicking the long banner of my sweat-greased tail, I glance down briefly to my feet, observing how the snow fluffs up in between my cloven toes. “I’m…Mihtal,” I add hastily as an afterthought, looking between the mare and stallion while I blink away the hair that has fallen in front of my eyes. I wonder if they will know what it means, what I have been branded as—what I always will be.

Suddenly I feel my throat tightening again, choking me, and forcing tearless sobs to shudder through to my very core. Unexpectedly, I’m grateful for my weary muscles, and how they tremble—because then everyone won’t know how I weep inside, how I gasp and sob and scream. Like the rest of me—this tangled, writhing mess that is me—it is all conveniently hidden in a shallow, clean little package. (After all, only freaks are falling apart at every seam, right?)
I can’t let them know.

It takes me a short moment to answer the next of Najya’s questions; I almost didn’t hear what she had said. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long journey,” I shake my head, sure that mine is not a story unlike those who have already crossed into this new world. As if to emphasize my point, my knees abruptly buckle under my weight again, and I have to stumble in order to catch myself from falling completely. I feel my cheeks flush with blood. Hurriedly I carry on the conversation, wanting desperately to distract from my embarrassing behavior. “Shelter would be nice though; I’m not used to the cold,” I look between both of them, uncomfortable with just going with either of these strangers, unsure if I should really trust anyone. Then again, I don’t know anything about this place—I would undoubtedly die on my own in this kind of weather.

And I can’t help but question, would that really be so bad?


notes; Sorry to skip you, Nova! Feel free to jump back in, I just got impatient and wanted things to move along :3
“Speech.”
mihtal

@Kiuaji @Najya [/size]| image | coding
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Najya Posts: 90
Dragon's Throat Alchemist atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 15.1 :: 7 (Tallsun) HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
A'mal :: Plain White Dragon :: Shock Breath Kiki
#6

“It’s good to meet you. I’m glad you’ve fared well on your journey,” honesty is the only thing that pours from the little mare’s lips, because she’s certainly seen those in quite a state in the Threshold. She herself had been panicked and half dead when she’d collapsed upon the borders.  Though Najya was certainly concerned that the mare - Mihtal - was showing visible signs of exhaustion though she did her best to keep them concealed.  Najya did find it curious that the mare seemed almost, well, uncomfortable in giving her name - the words came almost too quickly.  However Najya simply wrote it off as anxiety given the current situation, for she did not know the meaning behind the name.  She was far more concerned when the newly arrived mare nearly fell to the ground, but pressed forward as if nothing had happened at all.  Najya admired that, though it sparked her concern as well.  Normally she’d send A’mal to fetch something for the girl to eat, but she was still hesitant to call the dragon to the gathering. “If you’re thirsty, there’s a creek just over the rise,” she gestured back over her shoulder, “There should be something to eat along the banks as well.” Again, Najya left the decisions under Mihtal’s control.  She knew better than to order about a stranger.

The girl’s comment on the cold does bring a small smile to the little mare’s face. “I wasn’t either when I first came to this place, and to be perfectly honest - I still have little tolerance for the cold,” Najya offered, lightheartedly.  She’d been born and raised in a desert and her only experience with the changing of temperatures had been when the unrelenting heat gave way to bitter cold when the sun slipped beneath the sands.  But she’d certainly never had to deal with anything such as snow or lingering cold until coming to Helovia. But even now, Frostfall was difficult to deal with in the northern lands of Helovia.

“I’m from the Dragon’s Throat, the southernmost herd land of Helovia.  There are three others, one far in the north, one on the far western coast among the cliffs, and one hidden away not far from here.  You’d be welcome to stay in the Throat, if you wished, even if just to get your bearings.  The Desert offered me sanctuary when I most needed it, I can certainly offer that to you.  And if you decide, in time, to stay you’d be more than welcome. Our Sultana, Aithniel, would be happy to have you amongst the herd.”  Najya’s offer was not pressing, for she wanted Mihtal to know that she had the option to say no. She also looked over at the violet-eyed stallion, assuming that he had a similar offer if he was from one of the other herd lands she’d mentioned.  The little physician remembered how much pressure she had felt in the moment - trying to decide who to follow where, and then ending up fleeing from that place anyway when the herd she had chosen on the premise of peace had immediately turned and invaded another.

She’d certainly had a rocky start upon arriving to this place, fleeing and running and not finding a place to truly heal until she’d found the Throat.  That’s why she’d taken up the mantle of healer now.  To somehow attempt to return the favor.

N A J Y A
Image Credit


@Mihtal
@Kiuaji

Please tag NAJYA in all replies. 
Force & magic are permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
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Mihtal Posts: 26
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.0 :: 8 years HP: 56.0 | Buff: Novice
Reli
#7
I don’t try to do much more than smile politely when Najya mentions how ‘well I’ve fared on my journey’—for fear that the tears that sting might surge free, or that these silent sobs might roar into cries of frustration and anger with the world and all of its unfairness and brutality. Yes, I have made it to—Helovia—alive, but that doesn’t do anything to sway justice or happiness in my favor. The hellhounds of that godforsaken oasis still bite at my heels, and the flames of its sins still burn through every memory (even every sip of joy) that I’ve ever had. Tell me—how is that ‘faring well’?

But I don’t dare challenge the russet mare with questions even I can’t fathom the answers to. I have long since given up trying to make sense of the world’s injustice, or trying to understand the reasons why some things happen to those who least deserve it. (Why pompous, cruel men sit comfortably on their wealth and women, while the humble ‘filth’ of society is only being pushed further and further into the dirt). I swallow these things like I have always done, shuddering from reasons other than the bitter cold.

With large, flat eyes and hollow breaths, I listen when Najya suggests some food and drink. “I—” Instinctively I begin to reject her offer, never wanting to trouble anyone else or be more of a burden than I already am. However, I am suddenly, painfully aware of the dryness of my throat and the throbbing of my empty stomach; I try to remember the last time I had drank or eaten anything. “I could probably use some water, thank you,” I dip my head to her again, barely making eye contact.

The winter wind howls distantly through the trees. It’s deeper than the whistling moans of the desert, the frost biting like the sands, and grating against my skin until I feel both numb and sore at the same time. With one ear slanting back against the cold, I train the other towards Najya, limply cupping her words. She calls her home the Dragon’s Throat, and explains that there are three other herd lands in Helovia. With a twist in my gut, I realize that perhaps it is not unlike the politics of my own home; how each region is divided, fending for their own people, alienated from one another. I wonder if there are carnal oases like that of my own desert prison home; where empty promises were whispered and sweet nothings forced from bared teeth while you give up your body for the lonely hope of food. Where the poison of reality is glossed over and hidden by the flare of bright colors and supple hips.

“The desert does offer many things,” I whisper brokenly, uncertain if the others would even be able to hear me (and unsure if I even want them to). There are too many secrets within Dorobian sands that I clutch close to my heart (and not for their precious qualities, but for the contrary—for their black, writhing, and venomous nature, secrets that should not escape their obsidian, locked prison).
They mustn’t know.

Feeling the increasing throb of my heart in my throat and the quickening of cursory, rasping breaths in my ears, I turn my eyes away. Feverishly I blink away the threat of tears, clearing my vision of the brief blur of mangled emotions. They will only recognize it as exhaustion, I try to reassure myself, hoping that it is convincing enough. Fighting the urge to simply run, I lean back on my haunches, closing my eyes tightly and holding a breath before I return to the conversation. “I do appreciate your offer. It would be nice to rest a little while and get my bearings in order,” I direct most of my attention towards Najya, though my eyes soon flicker towards Kiuaji. “I appreciate your concern as well, Sir.”

I say it out of courtesy more than anything. While his concern, if genuine, is appreciated, there is a larger part of me that would just rather be ignored. A conversation is often far too difficult and strenuous to sustain between strangers. “Uhm,” I stutter before continuing, shifting my weight and turning my eyes again to the other woman, “Where is this water you mentioned? If you wouldn’t mind, I should probably rehydrate before I start travelling again; I might not make it much farther otherwise.” I attempt a humorless laugh, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I tell myself that it won’t be long before I can relax again.
Soon it will be over.


notes; SO excited!! First pony in the Throat :D
“Speech.”
mihtal

image | coding
@Najya
please tag Mihtal in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Najya Posts: 90
Dragon's Throat Alchemist atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 15.1 :: 7 (Tallsun) HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
A'mal :: Plain White Dragon :: Shock Breath Kiki
#8

Najya watched Mihtal with keen interest, but I do not wish her to feel as if this is an inquisition. Her secrets are her own to have and to hold if she so chooses. Some who step through this Threshold elect to begin anew and leave their ghosts at the doorstep, others find that doing so is an impossible task. Najya had attempted to continue running from hers past the far reaches of the herd lands until she was standing at the edge of the sea. And then they’d all caught up with her - forcing her to stare down her demons that she’d been too afraid to face. She didn’t know what lurked in Mihtal’s past - what made the woman skittish and wary - and she wasn’t going to be the one to ask. But she did fervently hope that she too would find the sanctuary that she had found among the sands.

She tries to measure the mare’s reaction, but is careful about reading too much into her hesitation just because of the very nature of where they are. The little mare is, however, pleased when Mihtal takes up her offer of food and water. At least then Najya’s anxiety of the woman would have the physical stamina to make the trip, for she was certainly worried about her physical well being first and foremost.

Even though frostfall was waning, Najya wanted to ensure that the closest source of water was not frozen. Unlike the previous year when frostfall had refused to relent, already the air felt warmer - no longer did her lungs burn with each step further north. That still did not mean that the current conditions were at all pleasant for the thin-blooded desert mare. Water over here, A’mal calls from her perch high in the trees, Not frozen. Food too. The tiny dragon had reacted to her bond mate’s discomfort and new that answers would provide much more comfort than anything else. Thanks flooded the bond as Najya chanced a glance up at the trees, but the dragon was well concealed among the wide branches.

“Follow me - it’s just this way,” Najya said, simply, before dipping her head towards the stallion and moving off towards where she knew there to be water. It only took a few moments, and Najya was careful to monitor Mihtal’s progress before the thin trickle of water came into view. “We can rest for a bit and wait until you’re feeling refreshed before heading south. And please let me know if it’s too taxing - we can find a safe place to rest before continuing.”


N A J Y A
Image Credit


@Mihtal

I'll post to get her rank changed and we can end this thread here and pick it up in the Throat :D

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