the Rift


[PRIVATE] one hundred days

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.
 

Perhaps it was reckless coming so close, so deep in the heart of the snow’s season, but the heart of a wanderer does as it pleases, carrying one’s body along with it, and homesickness was a powerful tether.  Breasting the almost chest deep drifts, my companion bounding behind me, our bond ripe with frustration and general weariness with the difficult journey, a dark, jagged scar marks our passage through the mountain halls.
 
Occasionally, another trail veers off into the woods, or up another peak; others still drive into other vales and hollows, some of which almost lure me with the promise of the winter beauty sure to be seen there.  One such location, a small rise leading into an ancient copse of pines, pines tall as mountains themselves, and sure to be coated in thousands of icicles glimmering in the light, actually does make me pause as its mouth yawns alongside me, beckoning.
 
Looking down the snow-hidden path I had been travelling, no clearer from here to miles ahead, as far as I can tell, I look back at the easy to miss trail, and wonder if the pines had managed to keep quite this much snow from reaching the floor of their small gathering, as they had in previous years I had visited them in Frostfall.  When Duir literally plows into me (the snow too high for him to see properly), and mentally grumbles about the entire situation, I redirect myself towards one of my childhood haunts, again pressing my way through the deep blanket.
 
Though the trees are not entirely laden with icicles, as the terrain levels out, and their tremendous figures come into view, they are at least halfway so; their crowns are laden with snow, the monolithic branches low hanging and weary.  Still, the early morning light pierces through their boughs, and sends small beacons of light spilling all about the forest, as it always had in previous years.  Like the trees themselves, the floor of the forest is also snowier than it ever has been, several inches crunching beneath Duir and I’s passing hooves, but it’s far easier to travel than the rest of the pass has been so far.
 
Pretty here, he says, looking about us at the northern world with wonder, why have we not come here before?  Other than snow.
 
"It’s complicated," I tell him, not wanting to get into that now; I fall into silence again, continuing through the wood as if I had not been interrupted, though his queries and comments continue, as well.

 [ OOC: I TOLD YOUUUUU ]

@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#2
All my life I’ve been searching for something
They came on a devilish whistle in the air, when the layers of icy, shackled crescendos matched the callous endeavors of infidels, crashing through lacquer of tundra and respite, pushing past the clawing marks of rime and frost. The pair gnarled and twisted around various degrees of irreverence, lingering long enough to touch, to scorch, to maim the seditious sparks corroding along blood, sinew, and flesh, mercilessly laughing when the mountains croaked and wailed their hollowed bellows. He could have howled, sung a sinister allurement into the summit, but instead, the soldier’s cackles and snorts felt nearly lifeless, empty, because his diversions weren’t long enough before his thoughts returned to the ways he’d failed and stumbled; and the fox’s were attuned to the sounds of mercenary, capricious ambitions, coming out more like hisses, more like growls, more like an instrument of the damned. Then the scion swung, front end lifting off of snow banks, twisting along the channels of endless desolation, and barreled forth; muscles undulating, contorting through the ripples of time and space, scars, blending, merging, sculpting, chiseling the labor of his motions, of his movements, into pure weaponry (because that’s all he wanted to be now – a chasm of rapiers and cutlasses, a ferocious, silent predator unleashing one tempest, one promise of vengeance after the next). His shadowy, blue appearance was a sword against the sky, crossing over the horizon in a pattern of swinging scythes and scathing scimitars, daring, defying, raising his princely skull towards the heavens and begging for an absolution he’d never receive. Erebos knew it wouldn’t come – he’d been anointed and consecrated as a child, as a babe, but those days were long gone, scratched and tainted, driven from innocence and childish whims. Too many prayers had been given to the Lucifer shards in his soul, too many bestowals granted from Mephistophelean, Machiavellian plunges, and so he was left to seethe in the foils of his anger, of his rage, of his inability to save anyone or anything – always too little, too late. He’d have to be more, more, and more still to ever be worth the measure of power, strength, and tenacity.
 
So lost in his own rapacious sentiments, that the beast nearly missed the appearance of his old friend – a dark object caught his attention from the corner of his eye, neither shadow nor piece of wood rising from the stark traces of the desolate world. He knew who it was instantly, once he paused, once he dared to stop and cease his wicked climb: Rikyn and his companion, traced in all their finery of gold and earth. His breath billowed in sharp, pervading puffs as he contemplated his next set of actions; to leave the other boy alone, just as they’d seemingly done to one another after Rikyn had attempted to steal from the Basin, like a ghost, like a specter, as if he’d never belonged and didn’t care if he ever had – but Erebos had perhaps been the braver of the two on the pieces of waves and sand, standing near his comrade, in silence, as Kisamoa proclaimed and the Moon Goddess reshaped the sea. He wondered if he should be now, or if they’d merely been left to the midst of silence, both too stubborn to maneuver past the choices of infidels and foolishness, if there would be a day in their lives when they could be whole again. The boy cherished Rikyn, but didn’t know what else to do, what to say, where to throw out the harsh truths, forgive, and forget. He’d never even had a chance to congratulate him on his bonded, and he studied, perused, the deer in all its embellishments and strength, pondered over what it was like to be free, to chase down everything you wanted (but alone). The youth frowned, ignored Orsino’s eye rolling, and instead of slinking closer, stood midst the fir and copse, like a portion of their scenery, a blade unfurled, and called out to the other cretin. “Are you proud of all the things you’ve accomplished, Rikyn?” It came out on a shout, on a torrent of laughter and mirth, ignoring the solemn, saddened depths of his eyes, pressing a little too hard into the mischief curling upon his lips. 

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn [DUDE GOOD THING BECAUSE I'M AS SLOW AS MOLASSES.]

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#3


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.


What complicated? asks Duir for the seventh time, about to earn himself a kick to the ass if he asked again.

I roll my eyes, again, this time, steadily continuing onwards through the quiet forest, aglitter with frost. The blue stone is safe against my shoulder, between the dark flesh and the gleaming bronze which covers it, and while I try to ignore the badgering annoyance of my companion not minding his own business, I ponder it, and its potential consequences, rather than what he wants me to think about.

Being bonded means he knows almost all of my actively occurring thoughts, despite him being much better at disguising what he is thinking of from me; its aggravating, and often makes me want to kick him, like I do now, for being annoying, and making me think about other things to avoid appeasing him. Either way, I’ll be damned if I think about why I’ve been hanging out south, rather than north, as of late.

I blame it on the weather. I refuse to give him anything, the badgering fiend. Doesn’t he know I’m busy and bothered enough with my questing? I don’t have time to dwell on unsolvable problems of an emotional nature in the interim, no matter how much of an obnoxiously nosy tool he is.

His ears tilt back at that accusation, his gaze tilting over to me with his own, deer-brand of perturbation writ across it. Why can’t you just let someone in? Those eyes accuse me, but perhaps it is my own heart (for once) interjecting its opinions in the form of Duir’s silent stare.

It is then that the apparition of a voice, familiar, but haunting, and lost on me in its disembodied state, bites through the air. Immediately stopping in my tracks, I shoot my head up, my ears searching everywhere for the source. Unfortunately, the tall, barren trunks this low to the earth, and the still, silent air in the forest allow the voice to expand and bound about in echoes, so that it comes from everywhere.

That old fear comes back, the one that was born in the desert beneath the shadow of Gaucho, and the flickering shape of his fire-magic. It’s a fear I’ve tried hard to forget, to banish back away where it had hidden before I’d found it, but the nature of the beast is to loiter, waiting for a chance to reappear; occasionally being assaulted, as I was seemingly about to be now, probably doesn’t keep that feeling at bay, either.

My heart picks up its pace, as if to demand it keep beating, to force me to feel the rich cost of its pulse. Duir’s gold-flecked, woodland eyes search the trees with me, his honorable heart thudding in time with my own.

"I don’t answer the questions of apparitions. Show yourself," I demand of the hidden one, wondering already how exactly I might use my magic or blade on someone I can’t fucking see. Can’t very well make nobody do a damn thing, can I?

[ OOC: lirl Orsino is the best influence ever ]


@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#4
All my life I’ve been searching for something
Something in Rikyn’s speech was heartbreaking, and it hit the prince squarely in the chest, knocked him from where he stood. The notion was biting and raw, plunging, gnarled and clawing down the rapacious, obliging segments of his soul, and he lowered his head to stare at the forest floor, alone with the fallen pine needles. It struck a potent nerve – and he wondered if he’d always be alone, that vague apparition, never truly recognized, never truly seen, no matter how much he strived, no matter how hard he fought. Maybe he didn’t lead anyone to play wild games, to reach for grander heights, to explore the vast world for each and every adventure. Maybe he wasn’t a beacon, wasn’t a shining star, wasn’t some brilliant wave of heathen, infidel prowess everyone followed. Maybe he cherished and loved but no one else did for him in return – and he grated instead of amused, irritated instead of diverted. Perhaps no one searched for him the way he journeyed for them because they didn’t want to see him, didn’t crave for his existence, didn’t wonder what he was doing, what action he might have wronged, what silly quest he’d undertaken. Perhaps he was just another body in the background, shifting a little more into shadow day by day, first a confidant, a childhood friend, and then nothing, a vague face blurred out by so many other wiles and civilians. It seemed so clear to him now, so vivid, so damning, that he nearly curled away from the scenery entirely, a bit more broken than he’d been before. Aithniel didn’t look for him because she didn’t want to (even though he’d once saved her life, made sure her wings weren’t shorn and cut away from her frame), Adelric didn’t come back because it wasn’t worth trickling after a do-nothing scion, Rikyn severed their connection because he’d craved and yearned for items instead of companionship – the sentiments unraveled like a scythe, swung at him until he was bloody, open, and raw. He was a constant being, and they swirled around in their own directions, paying homage to something far beyond his reach, even when all he’d desired to do was gather the stars with them. The boy almost laughed at all the terrible insinuations, because he once believed he was better than his father at fostering connections, at lending his compassion, at promises and convictions, and he was so bitterly wrong. All his achievements, all his trials, all his attempts hadn’t been worth anything in the end – even to Rikyn now, he was just a specter, just an apparition, just a ghost howling from the hills. That hurt worst of all.

Just what had he been doing with his life?

Orsino wisely said naught as the boy struggled to emerge from the blistering, boiling shell corroding his stalwart ambitions and his treacherous pride; it coiled around his neck and suffocated him, made his eyes close, cursed his ineptitude. The Sun God had once told him to stay away from the past, to not bask in the glow of yesteryears and unraveling seasons, to look forward, to be steadfast into the horizon – but lord, even when he’d thought he’d listened, even when he believed he’d played the right game, Erebos had still ventured too close to old flames and fresh wounds. Thereafter, when he locked his stare back upon the wide, winter copses and the desolate air, overwhelming sullen, peevish torment clasped at his mind, tore away the kinder measures, the raptures, the reveries. He was a boy all over again, exasperated at the lengths the world strove to deny him what he longed for, and ground his teeth, clenched his jaw, removed the sadness from his gaze and swallowed back the bile corroding his throat. He wanted to throw something at the other colt, at his friend, and he wanted to run away too, be the mysterious, enigmatic wraith questioning the hillsides and tempests. But the youth was too brazen, too disastrous, too bold to merely walk away, to forgo transgressions, and he stepped out from the shadows, narrowing his stare, a solid, stoic image of storms and soullessness. “I haven’t been the one hiding,” he chiseled, a touch sharp, vocals dipped in ice, head tilted to the side to watch Rikyn’s reaction, to see if he would flee again – if everything had been mottled and ruined beyond repair (wondering why he bothered trying to fix anything when no one gave a damn about the results, when the world moved on and he couldn’t).

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#5


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.


The game does not last long, the hidden one quickly revealed.

I look to him, only now realizing that I should have noticed the familiarity of the voice echoing about me, rather than the familiar fear now embedded in my heart. I should have wondered if, this far north, he’d be here, his dark eyes always watching the horizon for friends that had left him to an empty, stone palace wreathed in ice, and memories.

Each time we meet I see it more clearly, those stark lines of sadness, where once there had only been the subtle curvature of childish surprise, and laughter. He tries to hide it from me, like I suppose he always has, but, this time, in the shadow of the forest of icicles and silence, I see it. I hear it in his words, too, and it feels like all the warmth is bulled out of my lungs momentarily as I feel their weight settle down, over the now-understood influence of the ghostly question before. My ears flick back atop my head, golden eyes searching his face for seconds, moments, gazing into the cold expression on his face and wondering if, maybe, I’ve lost him to the ebb of time, as I had others.

"I haven’t been hiding," is sternly state, at last, "not from what you think, anyway."

I’d been hiding from more hurt, a deeper sense of not belonging; running away head long from mistakes, words I didn’t mean, and a failed desire to become more than I was. I certainly had not been running from Erebos, a steady peak on the distant horizon of reality…

I’d been running from the tethers between us, and the potential repercussions of their severing. I’d had enough of being smacked and left bloody by the lines I’d bound to others, in a hope to stay afloat, and steady in the sea of the world. It was enough to make someone want to cut the lines, and head out to the horizon, winding up wherever they wound up, without scars left by that which was supposed to protect them. Being alone seemed a small cost for the freedom of the heart, and a lack of wounds marring it.

But what would he know of intentional loneliness? Even with his losses, he has more light left to him than I do. He spoke to me of hope, the last we met, when I met him with the challenge of the futility of this world. There is a middle ground between both, I’m sure, but I don’t know how to walk it. I barely know how to deal with what I’ve done, and who I am, let alone what way is the most comfortable in this world of thorns, and fires.

"I put too much emphasis on what others think, is all, and.... There is no place for left to me here, brother," I explain, diverting from the most painful truth, to the lesser truth; I look about the still woodland with the old, homesick sorrow welling in the glimmer of my gilded gaze, a shine which I attempt to disguise when I look back at him, "I am not understood, and my goals are not supported. I will never be proud of myself if I keep allowing myself to be torn down by those who were meant to uphold me, or if I allow others to create who I am."

Stepping towards him, I offer a smile, a sad one; the grimace of a boy becoming a man, learning his way in the world, and hoping to not lose all of his comforts in the process. Perhaps it is selfish of me to still want Erebos’ friendship, considering my distance, and my wandering nature; perhaps I ask too much and give too little, arriving too late to be remembered as much more than the boy who was once a friend, now but faded memories, and a familiar grin.

I will still love him, regardless, for what its worth.

"I never have the right words, anyway… I’m sure you know that," I say, a lopsided smile growing from the pitiful thing which had lingered there before, "that was mother’s thing. All I seem to be really good at is breaking shit."



@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#6
All my life I’ve been searching for something
The prince remained wisely silent through the loss of smirks and the sad smiles, listening to the taut lines of goals ruptured and dreams unraveled; on things deserved and merited. He thought his ears caught the fresh, raw burn of entitlement bristling between clips and phrases, forced himself to hold back a snort – because he’d known the world for as long as Rikyn had, knew it wouldn’t part for anyone, knew it wouldn’t glimmer and shine for a soul who merely yearned for it to glisten. There had to be motivation, there had to be expertise, there had to be learning, there had to be something that inspired others to follow – and even if neither of them could do it, even if neither of them could completely reach the stars, Erebos would know he’d tried. Most of his wiles had never been settled on land or bands – they’d always been sanctioned to requital and deceit, to trickery and amusement, to the devilish court of diversions, to the rigor of revenge. They’d both been haughty though, drawn to the pinnacles of youth, bright, bursting flames, and Rikyn had spread himself across the vast terrain instead of wiling his time away in the Basin, casting and settling his sights on whatever was to be taken – layered it amongst treachery when he’d dug his claws into ice, into the Reaper’s sword. The boy stared at his friend, features tangled into a composed, calm fixture, eyes neither enthused nor drowned in hatred, immersed in thought, in pursuits, in the words of his mother and the merits of his father. “But wallowing gets us nowhere. You make yourself a place in this world. It won’t do it for you.” His eyes glanced towards the heavens, along the horizon, dropping upon the copses, the firs, the snow-lined boughs, the stretch of isolation that hadn’t been carved for anyone in particular, allowing the words to settle within the air, partly for Rikyn, partly for himself. “No one is going to move out of the way for you – you have to accomplish it with your own schemes.” He wanted to tell stories of how the Edge had lost, how they’d been driven into refugee lands, here, in this circle of cold hell, how they’d fought and fought and fought, and that was how they were granted their own land – not because they whined, not because they groveled, not because they begged, but due to their own perseverance, their own tenacity.
 
But Rikyn would already know that story. It wouldn’t make a difference.
 
Maybe he’d misunderstood. Perhaps the other lad had done just that: been driven into hopes, dreams, and aspirations, had carved something for himself out of rubble and ruin, and when everything seemed perfect, incandescent, real, tangible, right before his very eyes, it slipped away without a second thought. But Erebos understood there was a path for everyone – it merely depended on how far they wanted to go, what they wanted to achieve, and who stood in their way. No trail was easy, no wishes granted by the light of the moon or the rays of the sun. There would always be rubble, ruin, pebbles, twists and turns. His own efforts had been clambered, stifled, and nearly suffocated by the disappearance of murderers, by friends beaten and bruised for no reason at all, and still, he didn’t give in. He swallowed his weaknesses, he embraced his failures, stumbled and fumbled again, tripped over traps and wires, then raised his regal head and defied those who only yearned to waylay him. It would make him powerful. It would make him potent. It would make him a piece of condemnation, a signal of redemption, of vengeance, of lethality – or the weight of the cumbersome intentions would drown him. His greed would lead him somewhere. What was to become of Rikyn’s, already battered and marred, scarred and scraped? When he looked back into the eyes of his companion, there was the quiet, unsung menace and determination locked in the denizens of blue; wanting to stir, wanting to agitate, wanting to incense fire and smoke. “Everyone wants something for themselves. We’re all mercenaries.” Then he nodded, stared, and furrowed his brow, his speech lowered to a whisper, as if heralding and holding each and every secrets known to beasts; when it was simply what he’d experienced in life, what he comprehended of the world around them. “Its what you do that earns support. It’s action. It’s motivation. If they’re inspired, they’ll follow. If they’re not, they disappear. The world is fickle, and we have to adjust if we want it.” His stare, his glance, his body, fixated on hope, on glory, on moving forward instead of back from whence he came, lingered back on the trees, on the hills, on the spaces they were set to conquer, on the goals out of reach for now. It wasn’t a question of if they’d ever achieve what their hearts desired, but when. “I think there’s a place for all of us,” he ended with a tenacious grin, a lofting smirk, a callous snicker; son of Lucifer’s weapon again.

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#7

Rikyn

It’s more of the same battle, Erebos’ hope against the reach of the night within my heart. I suppose I can’t blame him; his kingdom had not fallen apart, and his family had been torn by death, not selfishness. There was a difference in our lives that could never be amended, no matter how similar we were, both cut from the star studded, midnight cloth of royal standards, born under the shadow of tall, snow dusted mountains, and bound to the way of the blade, the true warrior, noble and proud, fierce and indomitable, as all of our kind were destined to be.

Sure, I had never seen a kingdom before me, mine, full of women and treasures, but I still knew such a thing existed, and that is not something I called my own. I still knew the yearning, and was still my mother’s son, fed on tales of conquest, and words of lust, lust for power, for might, for blood. I did not need to have lost it to know the ache of its absence, being a child born of pure ambition, a soldier to the wanton, unbreakable tether of a desire for more.

I would let his light deepen my depths, and lend my shadow to bolster the vivacity of his glow, if my night darkened ocean of a brother would still march with me, towards the towers of our dream-envisioned bastion. He tells me I must not wait for others to move, without understanding that my path goes about the mountain and the realms of Gods for that very reason; I have not waited. I have simply remained blind while wandering, and slowly have begun to pull away the gauze of youth and naivety, which binds my eyes.

I must learn to be a proper shadow, first; it’s hard to do, when this land smites me at every turn. It makes sense, I suppose: Helovia, the very name of the land praising the sun, and those who serve the light, rather than the darkness inside oneself.

I smirk at his words of servitude, how all of us are mercenaries; perhaps some find themselves bound to the whims of mortals, and their fickle desires, but I’ve found that I am capable of serving only Gods, and the lure of love, be it a love for myself, or those few I choose to hold close to my heart.

"I don’t doubt they all want something. But, I like to think I am servant to none but the torrent of Time," and you could be free, too, I challenge of his statements, the familiar grin worn during such verbal jousts rising to my lips. My defiant figure steps towards his with the open trust of friendship, born before our hearts had learned that trust could be broken. "They cannot have what I won’t give them, or what they can’t take."

"I say, let the world be fickle," I laugh, "to continue to flow around that which is steady. I would rather be the mountain than the snow, a horizon to move towards, not a cloud to chase. Change is for those who would follow, brother. It is the steadfast who rule. I'm still too easy to move against my will, though."

A frown darkens my countenance, though the smile returns, my eyes spotting new marks on his dark coat, the promise that his training has continued filling me with a resolution that we might one day be mountains, after all.

"How goes your training?" I grin, glancing towards my buck as he is mentioned, "Duir's hatching has kept me from the field as much, though not entirely."


It's better to push something away that's slipping
Than to risk being dragged down
@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#8
All my life I’ve been searching for something
They were the same and different all at once – a steady, stalwart combination of mountains and lineage, of shadows and veils, of amusements and petulance. But they swerved away from each other on wants and needs, because the youth had never desired a kingdom, an empire, of his own. While Rikyn yielded into the open arenas, the chariot chases, the endless opportunities of the vast, wild world, Erebos had stayed within the confines of his summits, of his peaks, of his valleys, content to remain amidst caverns and comrades, exploring regions, making connections, discovering malice and opportunities. His heart hadn’t melded or molded to a throne, to a crown, and only to the precipice of disaster, of ruin, of driving his sword into an enemy’s chest, of watching the Colossus fall apart by his movements, motions, methods, and schemes, of devastating the legions of beasts who’d dared to touch or harm an ally, a friend, a beloved piece of his life. He wasn’t sure which one was more free, more open, more capable of yielding and ensnaring their aspirations, inclinations, and impulses, but the boy knew they were capable, and perhaps that meant the most. The prince granted no other voice to Rikyn’s thoughts, indulging him in the quips, in the prose of defiance, in the art of never stooping to subservience, understanding his companion wouldn’t dare falter, wouldn’t dare tread, wouldn’t dare lower his head to anything less than himself – and he received a warm smile in return for his speeches and statements. His words couldn’t carry any longer – Rikyn would learn, he would learn, and they’d grow, they’d alter, they’d morph (no matter how much the Outcast resisted; even the Reaper had eroded in time). In the future, they would show the world what they were made of – might, determination, Machiavellian motivations, or they’d falter beneath the weight of so many stars, so much pressure, breaking under the fold of what they’d always dared to dream.
 
He was faintly amused when Rikyn altered the tone of their diatribe, slinking past to what Erebos had been doing, all the commitments, all the training harpooned and laced to his battle-ready frame. The beast didn’t tell the darker boy what he’d been hunting, why he’d been stalking, and only indulged him with the smallest of shrugs, trying to hide the apprehension, the anxiety, of the mantle placed across his shoulders. “They’ve made me General.” Maybe the notion, the title, would be enough to warrant and presume his successes (and his failures, because he’d stumbled and faltered just as often), that he’d become more than just the delighted, exuberant child racing down hills and trying to save his friends from calamity and chaos.
 
Then they diverted their conversations again, eyes glancing down towards the regal deer, a piece of the forest elements, crowned and noble, seemingly poised and prosed instead of an unruly abomination (here, Orsino sneered, like he’d won a prize for being the most condemned). “I never offered congratulations – my apologies,” he added, stare rendered on Rikyn for a split second before falling to Duir again, studying and examining the length of horns, the way they seemed to match in earthly paints, streaked by lightning and gold, marked by leaves, by woods, by copses and groves. He smiled at the smaller beast, allowing the grin to sneak its way into his stare – much more real, much more vivid, when prospering over a newfound companion and its link to his favored brethren. “Does he try your patience too?” He asked the fawn, nodding towards Rikyn, laughing with a feral fondness, a savage satisfaction. 

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#9


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.

For whatever reason, he does not continue to debate with me on the philosophy of our lives, and though it does not truly bother me, I wonder if, for once, I have actually won, having never before been able to determine a victory in either of our jousts. I had always viewed this as veritable evidence that he and I were brothers, indeed, perfect matched in the field of jabbing, mental daggers, and the sweeping rapiers of thought. He left with new knowledge, as did I, and onwards we went, to forge our great wakes through a sea of nobodies.

I sought a kingdom, to protect those I loved within, to keep them close, and unwavering; Erebos sought simply to protect them.

He is far more honorable a creature than I am, and always has been, having been raised by the truly noble, rather than wolves in royal regalia. It’s this thought I settle on, this truth, to be the foundation of my verbal conquest today; he’s just less of an arrogant dick than I am. Duir’s laughter, a silent, mental bell of warm, and closeness, rings through my mind, in perfect agreement with my rationale.

"General?" I say, my brows rising upwards, a jealous pride rising in my chest, as my smile rises again. Of course he would become a General; it had been his father’s path, after all, and it is certainly more dignified a role than any I’ve ever played in this world. Seeing some of his apprehension, knowing the furrowed lines of worry to be what they are, only because I know him. I might have missed it, were he someone less important, but it’s a familiar face, one that, perhaps, I was the first to see. He was always worrying about the repercussions, even as a child, and never the fun to be had along the way; maybe Erebos really did need me around, if for no other reason than to give him a figurative kick in the ass at times like these. "It suits you, lineage to character. It that will serve you well, too, considering your honorable ambitions, assuming they’ve not changed."

I speak, of course, of revenge, for the pale daughter of a pale woman, slain for no discernable reason, a dark grin tilting across my face at the mention of the sacred rite of blood for blood. While my memories of Arah’s twins are distant, and blurred, I do remember them; they were kind, innocent, and beautiful. That one of them was now dead was something that I don’t think I’ve ever truly thought about, other than that the memory now reveals only one filly clearly, the other darkened by burgundy. I don’t know about his other, additional marks, not having met with him enough in the passing year to know much of anything about him, but that he is my best friend, the General.

"Thanks," I say, awkwardly, not really sure how to feel about how I feel about my deer, which is very deeply, with much love, and an equal amount of frustration. It’s not really his fault. I’m just not really very sensible, or nice. He doesn’t agree with a lot of my decisions, as a result, but he’s also teaching me a lot about what it means to really care about someone. All the while, when I’d skirted around Erebos, afraid that he’d be mad at me, too, Duir had insisted I was being foolish. He still feels that way, evidently, glumly bobbing his head yes to the blue General’s question.

"Hey, no one said you two were perfect either," I remark, grumpily looking out into the trees, while Duir laughs.


Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#10
All my life I’ve been searching for something
He waited for judgment on the rank clambering along his shoulders (held his breath, steeled his heart) – perceived an incoming blow, a rankling of disbelief from a friend who wouldn’t refuse granting him what he truly deserved. The boy considered a whole notion of words would come tearing from Rikyn’s mouth, measures of why on earth would they do that and what a stupid idea curled and calculated through his sentiments (and he would agree with them too, muster up a sad smile, a hollowed laugh, and remember how undeserving he truly was of such a noble title, of a role he’d surely wreck and ruin). He didn’t have his father’s talents for natural predilection, for a possessive, decaying destruction that unfurled with his every movement, or a fierce, ferocious stature locked along his edges. He didn’t have a sizzling, bewitching depravity clinging to his skin, harbored and harpooning, threatening to dissolve in a single movement; some days, the prince didn’t know what he possessed at all, besides a labored heart, a talent for amusement, and a spirit that failed to yield when it should’ve seen the writing on the wall. But as he lifted his eyes from the forest companion to his most cherished brethren, he only saw Rikyn’s eyebrows rise and a smile linger, and thought, in the smallest of grins and the feral ease of his smirk, that perhaps he hadn’t made a massive blunder after all. Acceptance clung past the apprehension and the nerves, the destructive forces pulling him in alternating directions, bedlam’s anarchic trace pinpointing directly into his sights, into his frame, into his figure, as if he were always meant to wander into its harsh, beguiling currents. The youth didn’t say thank you to his friend, but he proffered it through the length of his dastardly grin, through the overwhelming confidence suddenly bound and tethered to his lungs, to the whole of his being sharpened to resolution and defiance, and to the glimpse of his conniving nature, the lengths in which he’d go to achieve his aspirations. “They’ve only grown,” he hinted, glancing off into the distance, not dispelling the monumental surge of acrimony and abhorrence stirred along his stare – of all the cretins he’d fell and toss out to sea.
 
Orsino simply glanced back and forth between companion shards and nods – and Erebos’ attention was reverted along the deer again, a thousand inquiries resting across his tongue (How had he acquired him? Where’d he find him? Was there a task?). He didn’t share any of them, because he presumed Rikyn would share in time, in measures, in the glories of his actions when it suited him, and laughter flickered through him just fine, in the peace, in the repose, of moments spread too thin. “They didn’t have to,” he winked towards the bay boy, a joke, a chuckle flowing his nares and along his mouth, relaxed and calm in the haze of liberation and deliverance, weaving his sights primarily on the juxtaposition of beast and fawn. Duir, he’d remember, even as Orsino eyed the regal spirit with narrowed slits and a hostile bidding; shuffling his gaze solely on Rikyn for the moment thereafter, indulging the sensation of curiosity again, never quite knowing when to cease and desist. “What have you been up to lately?” If he hadn’t been hiding, crumbling castle walls, or foiling dastardly plots, what had caught the other youth’s intentions and deeds?

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#11


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.


That his quests have multiplied draws my ears upwards, golden eyes glimmering with the same childish, wicked glow that they seem to cling to so easily in Erebos’ presence. I should have known, that he would continue on his path of justice, finding more things to label evil, and crush beneath his hooves, but, I suppose I’d also never put a lot of thought to it, either. I mean, without really realizing it, I’d already been in the company of his first mark, not once, but twice, because I’m as self centered as the Sun (you know, with all sorts of planets revolving around it); all to often, I’m focused entirely on my goals, and forget to look out for my friend’s.

His eyes grow distant on the wood as I watch him, eagerly awaiting more. When I realize that this dramatic gesture is all I’m going to get, I creep closer, moving alongside him, shoulder to shoulder, talking as I walk.

"And what have these ones done?" I ask, lips twitching into amused serpentines. I don’t want to mock his drive to cleanse the world of wickedness, but I also can’t help but think of his father, standing still in the shadow of the silenced tent, plotting the fall of the hornless empires alongside my bitch mother. Does Uncle Deimos find it amusing, too? That the Reaper gave life to a boy, who could wind up deeming his own sire a devil, fit for the culling, if he were to know a fraction of the cruelties inflicted by he, and those who had once haunted the mountain. Sure, I’d told him of the secret meeting (what boy didn’t tell is best friend about a clandestine gathering, to which he’d been swept to in the middle of the night?), but I’d been sworn to secrecy on the vast majority of the tales and history I’d been told of the Plague’s glory days, beneath the withered Mauja, and my deceased Aunt Psyche. Though my mother was long gone, in a distant land I tried to forget my love for, I could not forget the fear of her reprimand, and kept my word to her, though she had kept none which she’d promised to me.

Biting at my blade brother playfully as he continues to pick on my ego, missing, because I don’t actually want to hurt him, I let happiness and silence fill another comfortable void in the conversation. It’s easy to forget how easy it is to be around someone you really know, and who knows you too, and our old routines slip on like we’d never set them aside, for adventure, or self discovery.

"Nothing," I laugh, realizing the truth of it as it’s said, looking at him with a crooked smile, "wandering about aimlessly, mostly. I keep getting my ass kicked for taking initiative, so I’m just going to let the initiative come to me. I did go speak to the Time God, not so long ago."

"He’s a bit mad at me, too, I guess. Something about taking for granted the time I’m given," I roll my eyes with a smile, knowing all too well that the God is right; reaching into my shoulder plate, I procure the small blue stone, its uneven, lumpy shape warm on my lips as I set it at my hooves, "gave me this, though. Says if I let enough people touch it, he’ll teach me more about my magic. Problem is, it makes me their bitch, for however long they want to have me be one."

"So far I’ve been an old man for about five minutes, and almost got raped by a kid," I shudder, remembering that little harlot with the most hateful of expressions a face can muster, "overall, its been horrible. Even worse than being a nobody…"

Looking over at Erebos with a smile, I correct myself.

"Well, almost," I grin, "at least this time you can hear me when I groan about it."



@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#12
All my life I’ve been searching for something
The prince debated on telling him. He enjoyed his secrets, his furtive desires, his convictions wrapped up tightly in their wound nooses, incensed, the fuse lit, the moments concocted and ignited, bursting into flames when the time was right. He’d nearly had the Colossus before – in a gathered crowd, listening to the laments of a child who’d also had something taken from her (but not her life), and he’d shouted into the din, stirred the pot, boiled the cauldron, let it foam and bubble over, but the chance, the opportunity, the instance never came again. Another had gotten to the painted brute before Erebos, and he’d spent his hours wondering about them, speculating to the Sun God about who could help, who could assist, and it’d simply taken too long. He was caught now, again, thrust upon a threshold of doubt and waiting, just an endless, eternal pause button stuck on his skull, chomping at the bit, clenching his jaw, wondering when the serpent would rise from his hole and he, the vengeful, vindictive demon who smiled, who smirked, who joked until he seemed ready to burst, would be able to devour him whole. There were other failures too (the strangely hued beast who’d wandered into their icy midst for the sole purpose of stalking Enna and her child, the one he’d prompted into battle, but left with no satisfaction in the triumph), and somehow he figured Rikyn would mock his exploits, his tasks, his desires to eradicate those who’d wronged his companions. Perhaps it was worth listening to the derision, to the scolding and it’d galvanize him into more searching, into finding the tracks of a fleeting vagabond – or it’d just be another brutal reminder of all the things he’d tried to do turn into ash and soot, tender morsels of absolute nothingness. He held the truth tightly against his chest, wanting to keep it for himself, but in the end, his eyes flickered back to Rikyn’s, and he succumbed to those days of old (but for no one else, he swore a silent oath along the pinnacles and rites of his tongue). “Tortured and beat a friend,” and here he laughed a little, pretending it was a ruse when the whole thing was a ridiculous mess and made his heart hurt, made his thoughts whirl into seething torment, devastating calculations, and abhorrent designs. “Perhaps I should find less troublesome companions,” he even arched his brow at the last tone, indicating with a nod towards the bay boy of his encompassing nuance and existence in the stead and scheme of all things.
 
But Erebos wasn’t baited by the fake bite, standing tall and proud again, immersed in those noble, regal qualities his mother must have passed along; listening intently to the nothingness Rikyn had constructed around himself. It was an intriguing juxtaposition: taking initiative and then having it corroding and colliding back upon oneself – maybe the time hadn’t been right, hadn’t been the instant required, hadn’t been the necessary listeners gathered at his feet. The scion had always presumed Rikyn would become something great, something grand, something bold - they’d always had those dreams as children, and his brother from the mountains wasn’t destined to become another nameless vagabond wandering amidst crowds and heathens, forgotten, transcribed in barely legible letters. His faith was broad and keen, focused entirely on his blood brother, incapable of believing in anything other than his fellow’s prowess and potency. He watched, however, as the manacles of the Time God had worn themselves into Rikyn’s soul, as they snatched and asked for more (because the other had taken things for granted, and this notation the prince could believe), hovered along stones and pieces of broken parts. “Shall I add the offenders to my list?” He was serious, eyes steeled over, ivories clamped together, pondering over the antics of others, fiends and infidels who always managed to find a way to weaken another, to take something for themselves, to want and want and want with no thought to the stranger they trampled upon. Then he ceased again, tried not to become bitter, angry, hostile over the machinations of Gods once more, over the avaricious will of so many (because he had it too – they all did), brows crinkling together in careful, polished thought. “Do you think it’ll be worth it?”

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#13


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.

That he laughs at the mention of torture makes the entire idea seem brittle, and tenuous. Was he jesting? Torture was a word that could be used in a dramatic way, such as the torturous endeavor of surviving a herd meeting – but the rest? I had certainly never described a minor scuffle as a beating, and also had never used the term in sequence with “torture,” at least not in such a light hearted sense. The image all together portrayed something that wasn’t funny, so much as it was terribly dark.

"You’re serious?" I ask, pretending to ignore his commentary about the trouble that seems to follow me around (I being the first to lure him away from the safety of the Basin, and into the world; me, the adventurer, the beguiler, the head of the spear that was us, before that life shattered into too many scattered pieces to be repaired), "hardly something to laugh about, unless this friend is less of a friend than the term suggests."

Or he’s grown colder than I could have ever dreamt, which I pray to not be the case.

The seriousness that overtakes him at the mention of those who had used the blue stone against me draws a robust amount of laughter to my lips. Albrecht was not worth killing, if only because he would likely be thankful for its delivery, and the child? I’m quite capable of killing her myself, if she ever comes near me again. My laughter dies, however, when he inquires as to whether or not it will be worth it.

Will it? I don’t know. All I do know is that it’s something to work towards, some way to better myself that doesn’t involve hoping some legendary warrior doesn’t try to beat me bloody again. Besides, what could be bad about having an immortal God on your side?

"No. The elder is a broken old fool, is all, and any girl who has to rape to get dick is probably going to die of loneliness long before either of us get to her," I answer, with a chuckle and a wink, "to be honest, though, I don’t know if it will be worth it, or not. It can’t be any less futile than my fight against the Wildfire was, that’s for certain… so there’s that at least."


[ OOC: IMMEDIATELY TAGS YOU BACK YEAHHHH ]

@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#14
All my life I’ve been searching for something
The attempt to diffuse and slide away from the situation failed and faltered, like so many of his other antics. The poor miscue, humor, had derailed and only allowed Rikyn to prod further – he’d always had an uncanny ability to slide his way into places where he wasn’t wanted, to comment, to erupt circumstances until they seemed so out of shape and misconstrued that Erebos never quite knew where to tread. Words dared to slip out of his mouth (you don’t understand and you have no idea swarmed through his skull, suddenly in ruckus, in a maelstrom), and the General fought along a slender cord of control, clenching his jaw, looking away, back into the pine forest covered in snow. Not less of a friend, ever yearned to flare past his tongue too, but even he had never truly measured the ways in which Enna had triumphed over the annals in his life, filling in voids, granting warmth and kindness and devilish notes of mayhem and silliness; something he’d yet to fathom, yet to name. He cherished and promised her, likely too many oaths, too many assurances, some she didn’t want him to keep (and he didn’t care then either, bending and breaking under the roles of vengeance and justice), but Rikyn wasn’t going to crash into those walls and glance in. “Don’t,” the boy growled behind clamped teeth, stare riveted into cold fixtures and stern steel, asking, pleading for the other lad to go no further, because the prince wasn’t sure where he’d fall apart and if Rikyn would even bother to pick up the pieces.
 
He’d cried down in that dungeon, when he thought she was collapsed, fallen, and dead, when she’d been torn apart and ravaged by some unknown monster, by some disgusting heathen he'd yet to find. He’d sobbed and then he’d burned, and he didn’t want to do it now.
 
But then the bay boy laughed too and Erebos no longer understood what game they were playing – or one of the same – too many pretenses and ruses and deceptions lying at his feet. He didn’t want persecution from the monsters, from the infidels, from the cretins who’d dared to harm him? Did he presume he’d get to them at some point in his own time, along his own ventures? The next set of words and phrases confirmed they’d likely be scorned by their ridiculous lifestyles (and he had a guess about the elder, but kept it to himself), maimed and flamed against by another or by the bitter, treacherous taste of isolation, a desolation without end. “If you ever need my assistance, though…” he added in with a nod, with a confirming wink (softening somewhere in the middle of their conversation, trying hard not to taste ichor across his tongue) in case Rikyn ever changed his mind, in case the laws of the land had yet to unfold upon those he’d previously faced, in case he wanted the promise of blood, guts, and glory again. But his brethren had fought the Wildfire (the scion didn’t ask about the result; but at least Rikyn had fought someone known to be nearly unconquerable, hadn’t faltered in a storm against a monster in a mask), had painted a livelihood of trials, of tribulations, had waltzed down thorned roads, and Erebos was certain this wouldn’t stop him either. “You’ll be successful,” the boy returned with a smile, the smallest of grins settled on his lips again, one more oath leaving his mouth. I believe in you was all that was left unsaid, but likely flickering over his brow, along the coils of his figure.

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#15

Rikyn

Don’t, he commands me, and my eyes widen, my smile fades. Had I struck a chord, somehow, with such a simple question? The only way I might have wounded him with it that I can immediately contrive is that its true, because nothing bites into me quite like that unerringly straight blade does. Of course, I’m assuming, again, that he is like me, and though we were both born under the same stone effacements, the same rippling, colorful sky, and had each walked as princes among our peers, we are no more the same than the snow was to the stone it layered itself over each winter.

So, does that mean he does care, perhaps too deeply to speak of, or that love had been cast aside by the one who has earned it? I don’t speak of those ones, either, and can also sympathize with the need to avoid the ways that others have abandoned, and failed you. I can understand missing those who you had come to cherish, as little as I could understand being in love.

I’d almost loved Xynia. I remember her eyes, her smile, and the lilt of her voice, but I remember these things in reference to myself; how she had looked at me, when amused with my antics, or disappointed in my choices, and the way she her words were never soiled by whatever negative things broiled in her heart, that I had caused. Almost, because even though the scar on my shoulder still reminds me of her, when I care to notice it, I no longer think of her every day, and instead only recall her when I selfishly rifle through memories I have thrown away.

I don’t understand love. It was not something that has ever been mine, at least not in a way that was unconditional, or properly seen through.

"Fine," is a cold remark, my own brick laid down in the borders that define our relationship, suddenly feeling shut out. I had rarely denied him an answer to his questions, and feel my heart harden. Whoever this person is, they have managed to create yet another rift between Erebos and I, another gray area that neither of us dare to tread. Its frustrating, and lonely, to have it pointed out so obviously, and soon, I too am looking out into the trees, not wanting him to see the hurt that darkens the usual impish glimmer of my golden eyes.

Yet, that silence is shattered, brittle as all silences between the two of us, and, as we’ve always done, the slighted pretends to be unwounded, and carries on. My laughter seems to puzzle him, at first, the vengeful soldier unsure what to make of the foolish rogue, but it seems he accepts it easily enough. His offer, or perhaps the wink which follows it, inspire a broad smile, my head bobbing in agreement.

"Of course," I tell him, glad to not have to admit to the fact that the enemies I’ve made are actually the good guys in the ordeal; regardless, its good to know he’s got my back, if I ever need him, and I cheerfully add, "you too, you know. I’m almost always around."

That he believes in me draws a grateful smile to my lips, and because I’m not the sort to get overly emotional, the statement means a lot more to me than I let on. Though I didn’t think the task I’d been assigned was particularly difficult, there was still the chance that I would completely bomb the entire thing, and be unborn for my efforts. That Erebos was so sure I wouldn’t felt nice.

"Thanks," I say, my titled smile awkward, "you will too, you know, at getting your marks. They can’t hide forever. This land seems to have a way of pulling everyone back together, at some point."


It's better to push something away that's slipping
Than to risk being dragged down
@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#16
All my life I’ve been searching for something
Fine was the final censure, and Enna was no longer a topic, no longer a bleeding hurt crossing over the boy’s mind – a secret, covert and furtive, resting on cloaks and daggers, nestled inside his armed and guarded soul. He could look beyond the trees, not back to Rikyn now, while the other boy brooded, while they left jagged little ripples of things lost and forlorn beside them – and a part of Erebos wanted to say, wanted to yell, wanted to shatter the unspoken void with I wish you’d never left, but couldn’t position the phrase beyond his mind. He didn’t want to wreck their fragile positions, their implied, tacit agreements, forgoing the mentioning of departures and wishes; because Rikyn would likely utter some transgression, Erebos would bristle, and they’d return to heated moments and overbearing instances. He didn’t want that.
 
You too, you know. I’m almost always around. There it was again, echoing past his ear drums in a wake of devilish, incendiary thoughts, and he swallowed the statement back down again, so that it rested firmly along his throat, biding its time, wrapping its way around his vocals. He could remember so many occasions where it’d been the truth, and they’d gallivanted across so many sanctions and sections of the mountains, pummeling into snow mounds, riding the waves of enthusiasm and flourishing promise, so many beliefs, so many certitudes lacquered across their cores. He’d been by his side when they ran from wolves, when they chased down Gods, when they felled beasts, when they wounded their prides – and absent in other declarations, when he’d fought monsters in storms, when he’d felt completely, wholly alone, when the world threatened to devour him from the inside out. The prince didn’t yearn for it to be such a way any longer, but it wasn’t his choice, and it wasn’t his decision. It would rest solely upon Rikyn, who’d burned bridges with the summits, with the Reaper, when he’d tried to steal from another.
 
Perhaps that had been the moment where the bay boy had shed all of his former glories and ties. Maybe he never wanted to venture there again, into his old home, where the ghosts of Illynx’s triumphs and the rapier sound of Deimos’ hooves echoed across the chambers.
 
This land has seems to have a way of pulling everyone back together, at some point. The scion nearly burst – he’d been silent for too long, stewing, concocting, imagining a time and a place where his best friend had always been at his side, and they’d condemned the world together, consigning it to oblivion with the perilous force of their combined might, fortitude, strength, and tenacity. Then, it came without any more thought, swift and searing along his tongue before he could stop it, before he could think and dwell any further on if he should grant it voice, the eager, keen, ardent smile polished across his mouth as his words simmered into the icy realm. “You could always come home.” His eyes too, segmented solely on Rikyn, strong and powerful, demanding, wanting, for the way things used to be, could be, again. No matter how many times the Sun God had told him to stop, he still begged, pleaded, and coveted for the lifelines of yesteryear.

(something never comes)
erebos
never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies
but I’m getting close

image | coding


@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#17

Rikyn

Silence comes between us, and maybe it doesn’t bother me like it does Erebos, because silence is a large part of my life, now. When you wander alone, with only a companion to share your thoughts with, the majority of the hours are spent without any sound but that of your own heart, the wind, and your hooves beneath you. The natural void of soundlessness fits easily over my thoughts, and doesn’t bother me as being representative of an emotional disconnect, or a distance between my blade brother and I; it simply is.

Maybe he doesn’t believe me, that if he wanted to find me, he could. I doubt he’s really searched, at least not after I’d come home, and stayed. Maybe that is my fault, for leaving too many times, so that he couldn’t trust I was out there, and had grown tired of hurting more inside with each multiplied pace in which he found nothing but disappointment. At the same time, though, I was here, and there, a ghost of several haunts, and I doubted I would leave again any time soon.

Where would I go? To mother?

Fuck her, and the hellhole she has defiled with her dictatorship, guised as democracy.

You could come home,’ he says, suggests, eagerly asks without the inquiry adding to the briar laden jab at my heart. I snort, a tilted smile accompanying the tilt of my features, as I look away, into ice christened wood.

"I could?" I both ask of, and condemn the notion, knowing that I simply can’t just come home, not without another fight, another battle I can’t win. Even if its not blows, I can’t do what they’ll want me to, again and again finding that I am the greatest wall to surmount, and that the rest of them can go to hell. I won’t do it, but I can’t tell him that, not when he looks at me with so much hope, so much want, and so my smile becomes a sigh as I look back at him, some sad sort of acceptance a false mask of agreement. "Yeah. Maybe."

It's better to push something away that's slipping
Than to risk being dragged down
@Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

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


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture