the Rift


[OPEN] Cabin Fever

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



S A O I R S E



The warmth of the sun peaked out beyond the trees. Its rays filtered heavily through the atmosphere. Despite the cool morning air, a few more seconds of sunrise would sufficiently lift spring’s lingering talons.

Saoirse glided low to the meadow as soon as its plain face broke out from the forest walls. His wing no longer ached as it once did. In fact he felt a need to expel his energy – and every muscle and feather screamed to move, move, move! And the boy was reluctant to escape the Throat, for fear of Kaos’ presence in Helovia. Despite the renewed vigor that coiled and undulated with each feathered stroke, a darkness pulled at his eyes, with an unease that kept him up most nights.

He’d frequent the temple to settle his body in a corner. Reassured that the candlelight, and the Sun God’s ferocious presence in the antechamber would ward away the nightmares, and the worries that coagulated at the edges of his mind.

What then, had brought him out?

The Throat was only so big as an island. And while he breathed and lived for the ocean air, and the deserts warm tendrils, it had become confining in the early stretches of Tallsun.

So here he was, avoiding the East and seeking easy pastures to work on his flying. Which – wasn’t really that great now that he thought about it. Gliding and moving in a straight line was all fine and dandy. Elevation was easier than descending; whether it came about in the air or towards the earth for a landing. So what better place was there, than the rolling, relatively flat lands and the safety of a wide berth to spot predators?

A moment or two past as Saoirse found ‘his spot’. In the middle of the Thistle meadows, and clear of any trees. Giving the surrounding area a good scan, he went about landing. Subject to the tingles he felt in his hooves, and the tensing of his muscles. Which, at once, made the landing choppy and difficult. The boy stumbled forward with too much speed behind him, propelling several unmeasured steps ahead. “Woah!”

With a large inhale, he hummed out the air and lifted a wing to glare at it. “Now how are we going to make this work?” When there was no reply he stuck out his tongue at the wing, and flailed his wings momentarily. Releasing a lame laugh into the open.


@Gyda   :: :3 Set early summer/late spring

Gyda Posts: 11
Outcast
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16.1 HH :: 1 Year
Linds
#2

The softening rays of spring warped the hard shadows of winter’s remains. They fell in an out of the treeline as you wandered again into territories unbeknownst to you. When you were much younger, your mother had seen to your safety, but now that you had grown old enough, you were your own guardian. You made your own decisions, exacted your own ills, and delighted in what little success your fruits scarcely afforded. However, that freedom was meaningful to your cause. It kept you moving forward when the bleak umbrella of doubt started to shield your view of divine hope.

But what had a child to worry her darling head about? It seemed a silly notion in lieu of your age, yet you had witnessed shame and embarrassment at the hands of your mother, who had suffered a similar fate at the hands of her own.

At some point in your young life, you had stopped trying to explain her absences to those who asked, and instead found that hiding from the many questions was an easier feat than facing them. In doing so, you had discovered your first task: become courageous. Your newfound courage had led you on quite the adventure into the unknown, but none of your fears were to be seen outside the vast borders of Helovia. In fact, your return had been more difficult than you could ever care to admit to anyone… even yourself.

Yet, as you floundered through the violet thistle of the meadow aptly named for the sparse nettle, you we plagued by an ever-growing sense of guilt. Where was your mother now? Where did you plan to go?

In the depths of your contemplation you failed to notice the muted shadows of the colt up above. In fact, it wasn’t until the boy had landed in a flurry of feathers and gangly limbs that you were of mind enough to pay him any attention. Of course, at that point, you couldn’t quite ignore his surprised crash landing or the deep auburn halo of his hair.

Though you were not yet close enough to address him, you faltered in your intentions, fearful that you would startle him or simply humiliate him after such a blustery entrance. Instead, you watched him from afar, clearing your throat until it had become painfully parched, before roughly calling to him, “Are you- are you alright?” Your voice broke mid sentence (betraying your normally sanguine nature), but you pursued an obvious approach thereafter. You had decided to break the barrier between passerby and curious onlooker before plunging headfirst into his narrowed universe. For the first time in a while you had decided to submerge yourself in someone else. "Looks like you came in a little hot there..." you spared laughingly. You hadn't seen another creature so unabashed as Vastra until now and it was something of a relief after so much dread and worry.

Gyda


@Saoirse

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



S A O I R S E



The youth doesn’t expect the voice that quickly snaps his gaze to her face. A voice that cracks, and ushers an unfamiliar heat into the boy’s cheeks and neck. Having moments ago cast his wings into a silly array of awkward flailing, Saoirse attempts to cool his skin and grins sheepishly between the distance.

Yeahhh, I’m good!”

He fluffs those wings that are partially spread out beside them, tipped and flecked with maroon, shuffle and tuck themselves beside him like a reassuring blanket. Their weight is noticeable to the boy, and he’s thankful he can press them near for reassurance.

Feeling remnants of the heat prick his cheeks and extend to his curious ears, he picks up his feet to meet the unknown filly. Taking note of the curious markings that blanche, and encapsulate her face. It’s hard not to stare for too long.

He stops at a comfortable distance, releasing giggles he can’t quite stop from bubbling through his mouth when she speaks once more. “So you saw the whole thing then…” Saoirse breathes out in mock disappointment. A half grin set stupidly against his maw. “I feel like I might explode,” he explains, shaking his head and wondering why he still felt hot and prickly. It’d be nice if it left soon.

“I’m Saoirse,” he offers simply, the boy’s leonine tail wagging from side to side. “Thought this would be a good place to practice, you know?” He realizes she’s without wings, and finds himself only briefly disappointed by this fact. They can’t explore the heavens together, but the prospect of exploring the grounds with another foal proves just as enticing.

“What about you?" He’s never met another foal who wasn’t a part of the Dragon’s Throat. There have been others, those filtering through the background who belong to a family, to a herd and a home during his times outside of the Throat. But he hasn’t quite met one out on this lonesome plane, sequestered from the scent of a potential mother or father. He lacks the scent of either of his parents, but the sands and the dunes – the ocean claims and threads within his smell.

She is a castaway, a vagabond that travels the earth however she pleases. So the boy waits in half curiosity and awe. He wouldn’t have been brave enough to step out and experience the life of a pirate, or a thief, or a child who is thrust into the unknown. To have been found by her, was like stumbling on a peculiar treasure.



@Gyda

Gyda Posts: 11
Outcast
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16.1 HH :: 1 Year
Linds
#4
There were so many fleeting moments in life, moments that simply never struck your soul or pressed upon your brow. Perhaps it was because you hadn’t the care enough to confront your troubles or your woes. Or perhaps it was solely because you’d never been taught to mind anything other than your own flagrant sense of wild abandon. All that you’d come to know, you knew because you’d bothered to unearth it from the dredges of your own experience. To live another life wouldn’t have been fitting for a girl of your unconventional nature. In fact, you were thankful for the evils that had placed you in the meadow that day and even more thankful for the boy and his auburn hair and charming, cornflower-blue eyes.These were things you would remember of him- moments you could carry with you.

As you watched him shamelessly, pouring over the way his feathers settled into place along his sides, you wondered what it meant to fly. In fact, you envisioned the ground falling away from beneath you until all that remained were the clouds below. Did that freedom make up for fear and the many trials and errors it took to get there? For an instant your lips had curled, poised and ready to impart a flurry of inquiries, but suddenly (and rather unexpectedly) you felt uncertain. Instead, you became transfixed on the way he spoke and the words that fluxed so easily from his tongue. He was good.
You had seen the whole thing?
He felt as if he might explode!
You smiled as response, still trying to gather whatever composure you possessed, before giggling at his expense.

Saoirse. Giggling at Saoirse's expense. How silly you felt for becoming so timorous after opening so well!

Even after he went on to explain his practice (and oh, how you adored the sentiment), you felt somewhat at odds with what came next. “I’m Gyda,” you began less assuredly than before. It wasn’t so much embarrassment over how you should behave around a colt so much as how to behave around another creature your age. What had you done with your childhood that constituted as entertainment?I guess… I was just exploring,” you returned feebly. You couldn’t quite tell the colt that he had somehow become the most exciting part of your day- at least not yet. “Would you mind if I joined you?” you questioned a little more resolutely. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around these parts.

It had been a long time indeed, though not a full year, since you’d seen your family and since you’d been back to the Throat. In fact, it made you question where exactly the colt came from and how he’d managed to find himself in your company. Gyda and Saoirse: adventurers. It had such a nice ring to it and yet you couldn’t but feel as though it was simply you against the world.  

Gyda


@Saoirse

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



S A O I R S E



As whimsical as her response was, with the return of airy laughter – prompts excitement and energy in the boy. His maw is further upturned into a genuine smile that shrugs off its sheepish nature, and embraces the other foal like, like… what?

Friend? Family?

It’s hard to tell in the brightness of Saoirse’s discovery. That being blind in its awesome radiance yields no concerns. For there is very little he wishes to recall from his home – not now, not the creeping emotions that have begun to twist into ugly things. Into that which he is finding harder, and harder to control.

The boy nods once he’s attained her name. She’s changed slightly, perhaps there is less pomp, less – ‘something’, but it does not diminish her. It only appears to follow in her voice. “Hello Gyda,” he hums into a less rancorous laugh.

But as she climbs her way through her thoughts, as her words reform into something inclusive – playful, bold… The boy’s eyes beam in the wake of her invitation. Shrugging off the haunts of his dreams, or the faces he yearns to see. “I think that would be great,” he assures her.

“I’ve never been here before. So you probably know more than I do…” The grasses are tall in the Thistle Meadows. And despite the advantage this offers to the predators in the area, Saoirse feels as though nothing could stop Gyda and himself from scouring the lands for further treasures.

The boy’s wings part from his sides, lunging playfully off to the side. Attempting to nudge her shoulder with the edges of his wings, where a more emboldened grin hangs off the side of his face. “Wanna lead the way?” His limbs became restless, eager, vibrating with the desire to take off in lands unknown. They stilled only a few steps away, turning to face her. “I’m the Demon Slayer, by the way.” He laughed, raising his head in pseudo flourish.

“What do they call you?”



@Gyda

Gyda Posts: 11
Outcast
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16.1 HH :: 1 Year
Linds
#6
Your uncertainty proves to be fleeting, cautious words left unsung. Instead, you succumb to the infectious laughter of your first (and perhaps only) friend. Though you don’t often make assumptions so forward, you hope that the assertion rings true. Somehow you feel saved by the boy’s companionship, an anchored vessel despite months spent at sea. It is weighing, a modest truth. Perhaps it is time to go home…. Perhaps you should seek out the family that was lost to you just moments ago. You’ve missed this deep sense of belonging to someone… to anyone at all.

Even if it makes you bitter to recall.

So you tuck away your truths and smile, because that is what friends do. They uplift. And that is what Saoirse does for you- lifts you up above your turmoil and your conflicts, despite the niggling idea that he is but a distraction from everything else.

I think that would be great.
Good,” you announce more playfully than before, as if the auburn-haired boy hadn’t truly had a choice in the first place. You squint your eyes at him in merry fashion, drawing him away from any earlier doubt as he talks. However, you find yourself shaking your head at his inference, your pale eyes flitting around for emphasis. “Hardly,” you insist earnestly. Helovia is nothing but a realm with designation, land and sea that makes up borders of which you are still unfamiliar. It is something that you are surprised to find the two of you have in common.

This is the first time I’ve been here,” you assure while glancing around at the lavender blooms reaching up toward your knees. It hasn’t grown too wild and unruly just yet, but you still prefer to stalk the beaten path to avoid the odd sensation of wandering through the thick of it. As you ponder the mild annoyance of trucking through the thistle versus being able to fly above it, you gasp slightly as stiff feather tips graze the maturing muscles of your shoulder.

Swiftly you turn to fix Saoirse with a challenging glare, but ultimately find yourself smiling over at him as he propositions you to lead the way on a new adventure you hadn’t planned for. You nod vigorously toward his request, but stop as he pauses to tell you that he is called the Demon Slayer. You’re unsure what he means by such an endearment and when he asks for your own, you can’t help but laugh, “I don’t know, what should they call me?” you question airily before pushing forward into the coarse thistle, grinning all the way. You aren’t yet sure where you’re going or what you plan on doing when you get there, but you dance off before him in search of a story that is all your own, but still a story shared.

Gyda


@Saoirse


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