the Rift


[OPEN] Winter Maze

Saoirse Posts: 55
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Tribrid :: 16.2 adult :: 3 seasons [Orangemoon]
mar
#1

The young boy was becoming more bold, adventurous, slipping through the forests farther and farther away from his mother. For while she’d offered her food and warmth, in recent days she seemed to have vanished. At first it worried the boy, startled him when the idea of such a possibility could ever occur. Perhaps she was playing a game? She would come back after all, she always did – like the sun, it rose and fell, but it never ceased to return. Even in all this cold, in the vast nothingness awaiting his discovery, she – or he – would find one another.

No other choices or possibilities assaulted the child. With a grin printed across his lips, he wandered aimlessly into the forests. A disjointed humming following his small and lanky frame, stumbling, now and then on some snow covered branches or rocks. For the most part he could manage with a hop, and a giggle for the sake of filling up the silence.

He liked his mother’s voice most of all, and perhaps the simple noises of the critters were all right. But a voice was something more to the boy; a song spinning tales, and an instrument to sing him to sleep.

His would have to do, as he rounded past tree trunks and skirted around bushes. After a while the cold began to press too close, it was much more than a prickle, Saoirse nearly felt numb!

“Oh no… Mama?” A tremor of distress passed his lips. Why was she playing these games now? With an impatient squeal, those pale limbs bounded further into the maze – perhaps running faster would cover more ground. “Mama?! Eh… where you hide?”

The forest broke open to a snow laden grassland. He’d dove into its depths, too small to see above the tall bushels and lost his footing. Squeaking from the impact – he decided to rest there for now, against his side. Legs sprawled, wings tucked close beside him. Bright green eyes, miserable at that moment – stared into the grey sky forlorn and saddened.

“Mama flies. Mama, I wanna fly, too…”


Image Credits

@Albrecht        -- for Albrecht!

Albrecht Posts: 249
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1hh :: 19 (Orangemoon) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Strom :: Suma Ball Python :: None Townsen
#2
Albrecht

Already the snow is beginning to pile up, hiding the last withered blades of Orangemoon grass beneath its damp, suffocating weight. The white flakes clump together into a single cohesive ground cover, muffling all the whimsical crinkling and crackling of dead leaves that marks the end of the year. Perhaps that's why the old stallion doesn't hear the boy at first, his miniature hoofprints making barely a scuffle with their negligent size and carry weight, or maybe it's just that he is so old, his senses naturally dulled by time and wear. In any case, it's not until the boy falters and falls, his voice rising in a wild squawk of dismay, that the stallions ears cup forward.

He freezes, head high and eyes wide, his nostrils flaring to draw in the thin Frostfall air, then fluttering excitedly at what they find. He knows this scent. An invisible tremor, sudden and wracking, rattles the dust and broken shards of memory scattered around the hollow of his chest. He hadn't seen the telltale tinge of auburn sprouting from the boys crest and coloring the very tips of his infantile wings, but he knows the color is there. He knows his own son.

Surely he's too young to be alone, he wonders. Had the mare decided to abandon him after all? Even after he'd shown such willingness to take him himself? Even with the cold and damp of Frostfall falling harder every day? Cruel. His mind shudders, pricking his sides more fiercly than any spur could do and sending him forward in a hurried trot. He stills standing over the boy, his bearded head hanging into the cartoonish foal shaped cutout in the snow, staring down at the haphazard tangle of legs within that is his child. "Are you alright?" He asks, ignoring the cranky and somewhat slurred response of his no-longer-sleeping-comfortably companion.

The unexpected rush of movement had jostled the lazy sleeping python from his self imposed hibernation between the soft, protective folds of the scarf tied around his bondeds neck and - in his opinion - was a clear sign of intentional betrayal. The snake writhes grumpily, repositioning himself in such a way that no icy breath of cold can slip between the layers of cotton, his body balled up and leaning heavily against the exterior warmth of the stallions chest. He refuses to even peek his tiny head out while the horror of the white menace still exists outside, especially if doing so involves the tiny winged horse that so easily stole his bondeds interest and affection from him - and without so much as a moments hesitation! There had been no days, weeks, months of prying into that battered old heart, no tiny, begrudging admonitions of approval over time. The thing had just popped, or more accurately squelched, out of its mothers backside and suddenly the old bastard could care again. It's total bullshit, the snake asserts, not for the first time, and though the stallion flicks an ear and tries to reassure his young companion of his own importance, of his pivotal role in this newfound - if limited - normalization of emotion, the python refuses to be reasoned with. He buries his nose between loops of his own body and resolves to go back to sleep until a time when the world is right side up again.

The stallion sighs, turning both ears to the colt in the snow again. He doesn't try, but even if he had it would have been impossible to keep the edge of accusation out of his voice when he asks, "Where is your mother?"



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // So excited. ^.^ @Saoirse
image by mar!
           
[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
Violence & Magic okay.
Wish - Away - OOC


Saoirse Posts: 55
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Tribrid :: 16.2 adult :: 3 seasons [Orangemoon]
mar
#3

He’s too busy searching the sky for a sign, anything, to notice the smell in the air – the sound of heavier foot falls that approach. Saoirse can’t decide if he’s angry or sad, if he should be one or the other, or if he just wasn’t trying hard enough to find her. In any case, he wouldn’t have recognized the smell of Albrecht. The boy couldn’t recall the traumatic event of breaching into the new world, of all the smells that had assaulted him and the noises, the sight and feeling of being exposed to the coolness of Orangemoon. It was all a little too much to process. So much, that the appearance of the thin and bony face above him startles the boy; in a way that tenses his muscles, and expands his wings in a muted fright. “Ahhhh!” He tries to roll away in a pathetic attempt to avoid. But the grass is too tall and cradles him wherever he goes. Until finally he stands with energy abound, heart racing and eyes twinkling at the strange and odd stallion. And somehow, all of it, the discovery of another soul – and the curious question that presses into the air makes the boy giggle.

“ ‘m fine, missster.” Saoirse gives his tiny frame a shake, inadvertently splashing snow off his frame. “Are you alright?” He looks up at the massive frame, all bones and black, and copper hair that lines their belly. It looks warm, and the little one’s eyes glitter with the temptation of reaching out to touch it. But by then he’d caught something shuffling in that cloth-thing.

“Wa’s in there?” He gave pause, more and more questions filling his head. “An’ why you so pointy?” Mother was rather round and full bodied, she was strong and young. The boy couldn’t quite fathom old age yet, and that was the only way he could point it out to the strange stallion. Skin and bones. That they were different somehow, everything that was new and wonderful to the boy required immediate investigation.

The stranger sighs, and speaks with a sharpness to his voice. An edge that makes the boy’s skin crawl, until he realizes that he speaks of his mother. Saoirse is dumbfounded by the simple request. And stares up into those crinkled eyes, uncertain and surprised that he would ask. “Mama?”

He blinks and shies away from the old stallion’s gaze, shrugging with his small wings – not quite flight savvy; decorative fluff. And idly draws circles with his left fore hoof into the snow beneath him.

“Looking for ma. She… she could be hid-ing. Like a game? But she’s hiding real good.” Saorise meant to be chipper, he enjoyed playing and running, and jumping and tumbling into the soft cool snow. But it seemed like forever already, and he couldn’t even smell her on the air. His large brows knit together, before he shot the black unicorn a grin.

“Maybe you help me?”


Image Credits

@Albrecht      XD me too, eee, this kid is so derpy... XP

Albrecht Posts: 249
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1hh :: 19 (Orangemoon) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Strom :: Suma Ball Python :: None Townsen
#4
Albrecht

Skittish, he thinks a little critically, but then all newborns are - and they should be really. It's instinct. It's what keeps them alive in unfamiliar circumstances and when deprived of the essential protection and guidance of a mother. He watches the boy jerk in surprise, then right himself and shake off a sprinkling of white flakes from his downy coat. Two sets of emerald eyes stare into each other, both curious. Then the older smirks. "Oh, I'm fantastic." He answers the boy, his tone of bitter sarcasm softened several shades from its usual. "And that," He tucks his nose slightly to gesture at the unseen creature inside the scarf. "Is a very disgruntled noodle." The offended noodle wriggles in protest, both at having suddenly been bestowed such an inglorious nickname and at the general circumstances of its bestowing.

The python jealously despises the youth for his easy command of the elders affection. It's not as if the boy elicits any overt displays of affection or sudden affirmations of love, but for the old stallion with the barbed tongue and shriveled heart a mere absence of malice is just as good. He heaves a tiny sigh, tightening his coils until he's locked in a self pitying sort of hug and the genuine hurt radiating from his tiny mind draws the stallions muzzle back down. He nudges gently at the bundle against his chest, an overtone of almost-apology reaching out through their shared bond. He's my son, Strom. He tries to explain. Maybe the last. But to the boy he says, "He doesn't like the cold, and neither do pointy old men."

He's taken on an easy half-smile while talking to the colt, but the way he says Mama, turns the corners of his mouth downward again. He wonders exactly how long the boy has been alone, and whether he should worry about things like dehydration and hunger. He doesn't appear to be shivering at least. "Did she come out here with you?" He asks more gently, noting the way the boy seemed to shrink away before. He lowers his head invitingly, his auburn beard brushing the snow at his feet. "Maybe she's gone home to look for you. Do you know the way?"



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Saoirse

image by mar!
           
[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
Violence & Magic okay.
Wish - Away - OOC


Saoirse Posts: 55
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Tribrid :: 16.2 adult :: 3 seasons [Orangemoon]
mar
#5

Fan-ta-stic… is that good or something?” The way the old man says it is kind of funny. But the boy is too young and naïve to catch the subtleness of that sarcasm. He copies the tone right at the end of the word, for not knowing any better.

Curiosity pulls Saoirse back to the treasure trapped in the old man’s scarf. The word he uses to describe the creature makes the child bark out in laughter. ‘Disgruntled noodle’, the child reiterates in their head. The tail between their legs wiggling with amused satisfaction. At the mention of cold however, a fleck of concern hits the boy’s eyes.

“Oh? Are yeah cold too?” Because he could feel it edging nearer, drawing into his muscles. “I don’t think I like it either…” Makes a disgruntled face. He wants mother’s warmth, most of all. To smell her and bask in that security; but out here, in this vast kaleidoscope of possibilities, it was hard to focus and latch on to something to ground him. Sooner or later it would all collide and implode.

Saoirse shares a saddened gaze with the stranger and shakes his head. “I thought… I can’t remember, if I was suppose’ to stay put or… But then I thought, maybe I better look for her.” Despite the angular and time ridden hide of the stallion ahead of him, Saoirse takes comfort that they have not shooed him away. Or ignored his presence for other things. Perhaps even helpful, when he mentions a new possibility that he hasn’t quite considered just yet. And that would lead to the assumption the stallion was kind, to want to help him.

His head bobs up, and the sadness evaporates with the idea – hope burning brightly within him. “Sort of! I just… I just have to find the ocean. We live in the Dragon’s Throat, it’s the best!” Saoirse’s wings expanded out in exclamation, just as he whipped around to face the forest behind him. Pausing, once he realized he couldn’t quite see much over the tall grasses. Shyly he looked back, and sheepishly smiled. “Oh hey, mister – do you see the forest? It’s this way, right?”

He looks at where he’d tumbled in, and prematurely starts in the direction of the trough his little body made against the snow. Whole-heartedly expecting the stranger to follow him, he glanced back to make sure.

“I live on an island! The Dragon’s Throat… Do you know why they call it that?” A knowing tone hinted that he already had an idea. But he hid it anyway, underneath the cover of a growing grin and energetic eyes.


Image Credits

@Albrecht

Albrecht Posts: 249
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1hh :: 19 (Orangemoon) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Strom :: Suma Ball Python :: None Townsen
#6
Albrecht

Height gives the old man a distinct advantage in gaining his bearings in the whitewashed landscape, though age robs his emerald eyes of the clarity they once had. He can see that the colt is heading in the direction of a forest at least, and that he's backtracking - more or less - over his own zigzagging trail through the snow, which is all well and good so long as the boy didn't travel in widening circles or some other nonsensical manner on his trip out here, something that children are prone to do with their gnat sized attention spans. He sighs a noise of minor complaint, but falls in behind the lad anyway, unwilling to send him on without some kind of adult escort and clearly expected to do so already with the way the boy is walking and talking at the same time, not even glancing behind to be sure of his company. 'Stupid,' Comes a bitter commentary, jealousy and envy coloring the bond between horse and snake. The black pins his ears, mentally snapping in reply; Don't be such a clingy cry-baby.

The snake recoils sharply. If he had brows they would have been pinched uncomfortably, torn between hurt and anger, but limited as he is, he just wriggles within his wool confines, bumping roughly against the stallions chest in protest. The stallion shakes his head, as annoyed with his companions childish behavior - and realizing with the thought that he is just a child, really - as he is with his own inability to explain the conflict between them away. When he sighs a second time it's with much more sincerity, his head low and ragged beard brushing strange shapes into the snow as he trails along behind his son.

He's never actually been to the Dragons Throat before, only lingered around the outskirts to catch the occasional update on Sabias pregnancy. He hasn't heard much about it either, sequestered away behind the peaks of the Basin, so when the boy excitedly dangles some well rehearsed narrative he flicks his ears forward to listen, as much interested in the answer as in the boys grasp of the world around him. Every father wants their children to be prodigies after all. "Why's that?" He asks, shortening his long stride to stay even with the colts smaller, irregular steps.



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Saoirse We can have them travel for a bit and/or start a thread in the Throat. Maybe you can smuggle me in. xD

image by mar!
           
[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
Violence & Magic okay.
Wish - Away - OOC


Saoirse Posts: 55
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Tribrid :: 16.2 adult :: 3 seasons [Orangemoon]
mar
#7

The boy presses onwards through the cold. Huffing as he trudged through the dense layers of the meadow. Jumping out eagerly from its confines with a rigorous shake. Wings flapping haphazardly, before being folded in a meticulous method that only ever felt right when done a certain way.

There.

The boy could finally get on with his story, and shot the tall black stallion a grin as he pranced into the forest. The canopy providing less snow to trudge through, offering reprieve for the small, lanky creature whose muscles had not yet developed him for grace or power. Those emerald eyes glittered out towards him.

“My home us’t be a line of mountains. But underneath those mountains, a dragon slept – and whenever the earth moved, or groaned, the dragon slowly awoke. Yeah see, the dragon was so powerful that ol’ Sun God got kinda jealous. And that’s why he was sleeping in the first place. ‘Cause Mr. Sunny wanted all the attention to himself.”

The boy made a firm nod, with a serious gaze trapped in their eyes. “That’s a story for another time.”

He almost stumbled, forgetting to watch out for hidden tree limbs covered in frosting. Or the leaves from orangemoon, slick with moisture and frozen over with ice. “Whoa!” But he was nimble enough to steady himself. His fledgling wings sprung out to catch his balance, as he tip toed and jumped over a few hidden obstacles ahead of him. A pointed giggle barking out from his lips.

“An Sunny had some help trapping the dragon, from… from that Earthy God. Long, long ago. But Earthy couldn’t live know’n he’d be trapping the dragon for eterrr-ni-ty.” Every now and then words became difficult for the child. But he’d manage on his own anyhow.

“So, the dragon was bound to wake up some day. And with one last shiver from the ground, he rose up to face Sunny once and for all!” He yelled with a heavy growl.

The child honestly did not intend for the story to be any longer than he thought it would be. Perhaps only a few sentences to state the obvious. But now his story needed fleshing out, and somewhere along the tale it began to grow and grow with the child’s quest for something grander, and more wonderful than what he’d first started out with. His pace inevitably increased as he thought about how a battle should start, and how it would end. And was torn if he’d wanted something kind of happy, or incredibly dark and sad. Because it was obvious enough that the Dragon was gone, and Sunny was still booting around… somewhere.

By then he’d went from a walk, to an energetic trot with brief moments of running out ahead into the unknown. His breath steady, his body finally warm – the smell of the sea wafting out from somewhere. But the forest itself was truly disorientating. And abruptly he stopped in his tracks with wide eyes. His tail limp and dragging against the ground.

“Uhmmm…”


Image Credits

@Albrecht - I'm good with traveling for a little, and have my boy try to get him into the DT ;P

Albrecht Posts: 249
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1hh :: 19 (Orangemoon) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Strom :: Suma Ball Python :: None Townsen
#8
Albrecht

The boys story is interesting, if a little questionable with all its embellishments, but then again, the stallion asks himself, hadn't the gods created all of Helovia in one way or another? Dragons are real enough, though minuscule in comparison to the one in the story, and the gods themselves pop in from time to time to give and take and prove their strength beyond any mortal doubts.

In the small silences between each breathless segment of the colts narrative the stallion lets his own thoughts meander here and there, following a zigzaging trail from one idea to another. He wonders if the God of the Sun was jealous of the dragon for his flame, assuming the dragon was a fire breathing one, and whether the God of the Earth chose to help imprison the beast to prevent its powerful flame from incinerating his landscape or for some other unknown reason. He wonders if there's comraderie between the gods or if there's competition, each one heading their own herd and territory against the others. There's been peace across Helovia since the old stallion crossed the Threshold, but he's heard whispers of past wars, foreign gods, and otherworldly creatures and takes this current span of quietude to be a temporary respite from action. He thinks of the sea creature, Kisamoa, and wonders whether his appearance marks the beginning of a new conflict.

Abruptly the boy stops and the stallion, having grown accustomed to his weaving back and forth across his path, nearly collides with him, jamming his hooves into the ground just fractions of a second quick enough, his ratty beard swinging forward to brush across the youths rump, should he stay immobile. He stares down at the boy, watching invisible air currents sway the fluff of his mane for a moment before the uncertainty in his posture turns his gaze forward. He can see a thin rind of blue on the horizon, just peeking through the spaces between tree trunks up ahead, and the scent of salt water lends a cool, mineral taste to the air. Either through knowledge or by sheer accident the young boy has brought them to the edges of the the Throat after all - or very nearly.

"Lost your way?" He grins down at the colt, a gentle teasing in his tone that suggests he knows the answer, but won't force the boy to admit to anything that might elicit embarrassment. "Maybe if you were just a little bit taller." He suggests, sitting back on his haunches to briefly lift his forelegs from the ground, though only an inch or two, his bearded chin lifting to point out ahead of them as if searching for clues. He's seen the boy leaping and capering for no small amount of time now and imagines he could raise himself high enough to see the edge of the ocean for himself if he reared to his full height.

"Just like the dragon." He suggests more openly, a conspiratorial grin crossing his weathered features as he puffs out his chest and arches his neck like some malnourished, hobo-esque god readying for an assault.



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Saoirse

image by mar!
           
[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
Violence & Magic okay.
Wish - Away - OOC



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