the Rift


[OPEN] all my friends were glorious

Melita Posts: 35
Dragon's Throat Filly
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16 :: Newborn - Birdsong
Sila :: Plain Zephyr :: Wakiya Heather
#1


LET ME LIVE THAT FANTASY



She loved exploring.

It was a divine, courageous act for a child who’d known next to nothing the moment she was born – only mother and sister, the depths of the glorious, blue sky, the machinations of love and instinct pulling her closer to the earth. But she took to wandering like a primordial, ancient pull, plunging into the depths of the Throat with impeccable ease, curious and curious still, unfurling her wings, allowing the summer winds to flicker through her plumage, while she crashed and careened across the hot sands. It was second nature for her to dive and rummage, for her to seek out knowledge everywhere she could, watching the birds in flight, staring at the lush grass and the way they moved, studying the serpents slithering through sultry dunes, wondering why the sound of bees buzzed in her ear (and even further still – why it seemed like the most beautiful of melodies, all illustrious and intrepid, daring and soothing). She wanted to understand and comprehend so many things at once; the sensations were wonderful and overwhelming at the same time, luring her into beguiling sets and bewildering moments, pondering over fire, over magic, over enchantments, over the crushing, gnarled, twisted world they lived within.

Today’s adventure corresponded with the sea – she’d watched it for several days now, eyeing the lake with the slightest of interest, pondering if it was a ravenous monster intending to devour, consume, and pluck tiny youths from their mother’s sides, send them into the unknown, oblivion maybe. But she’d witnessed others hastening to its brilliant, blue allure, and eventually she too was ruled by fascination and ferocity, waiting until no one else was nearby, ducking out from behind some long grasses, walking slowly towards it. Her head inclined in several different directions, trying to discern if another would come out from some hiding space and laugh at her because she’d been frightened of something so spellbinding and utopian. The little girl gathered her strength, her courage, her might, in one swift breath, and lunged for the shore.

The cooling sensation tickling her hooves made her shudder, and when she wasn’t immediately snatched and driven into the underworld, she laughed. The chill was intoxicating, ravishing, and moments later she pressed further into its shine and fathoms, until it tickled the tips of her pasterns and she giggled again, amused, diverted, entirely sworn over to the gods of the lake. Then, because all her actions seemed raucous, unrefined, exuberant, she kicked at the liquid, laughed and laughed when it splashed over her form, when it sprayed into jettisoning spikes and droplets, when it cascaded across her mane, her tail, her wings. She stomped too, then reached deeper until it waded and wafted to her nearly to her knee, completely, utterly enthralled.


           


@Patrick @Clementine @Bellanaris @Saoirse [and anyone else who wants to join! :D]

Pippigrin Posts: 77
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind
#2












home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread


The manticores had been particularly stubborn today, perhaps becoming immune to Pippigrin's assaults and tactics. No matter how much the stone child bellowed or swooped, the strange lion-like creatures would not be moved from the temple grounds without much of a hassle, and it was becoming clear that it was only to avoid the nuisance that the pride moved on (and not because of any fearsome skill the hobbit might possess).

So it had been with a great huff, a stomp, and a good degree of hullabaloo that the disgruntled colt waddled his way across the craggy surface near to the oasis. Kicking a stray stone away from his path, the half-sized man continued his wobbly-lipped sulk to the water, wingtips dragging along the desert dirt and charcoal head hung low.

It was as his snipped lip touched the water, the smallest of tears having rolled down his face to meet the thousands of others below that his face was peppered with a refreshing splash of crystaline kisses.
Blinking and spluttering in surprise the tiny pegasus scampered backwards, pale eyes wide and aglow as he took in the sight of a joyful youth revelling in the shallows.
"Hey!" Pippin grumbled, whiping his face against his cannon in an attempt to rid the drips from his countenance.
It was as he gazed grumpily towards the desert-coloured girl that his demenor changed, and quite rapidly at that. She had practically splashed her joy into him.  

It was only a matter of moments before a smile lined his youthful face, and his sooty hocks took him deep into the shallows.  Wingbeats ushered the water from the surface, threatening the young one with a splash-attack of his own. As fast as the splashes errupted form under his stomping feet, so did the giggles from within his throat and heart.




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

Chamomile.

The scent’s not bad, he thinks. It’s soft and a humble sweet that tickles his nose. But with a grimace he spits out the bitter taste from his mouth. “Eck…” It doesn’t do well when chewed. He hopes he won’t get sick, but the boy doesn’t want to wait for the assured, and seasoned words of a healer. Most times he’s alone, and he can’t simply wait on their beck and call.

He’s rather rested underneath the shade of a short and gnarled tree. Surrounded by a patch of jade grass speckled about, with the tall greens of white and yellow centered chamomile flowers. Not far from where the oasis resides, where the gigantic palms sprawl out from forgiving waters, and where various forms of foliage bloom.

The sound of spirited laughter finally grabs his attention. Draws his gaze away from the fattened yellows of the flowers, and the 12 white petals he’d counted a moment ago. With ears pricked and mind jettisoned towards the oasis, his body, coated by the scent of chamomile darts up with a vigorous shake.

Who could that be?

The boy has forgotten the sound of pure delight, untainted by regrets and of wanting when one has nothing. And it hits his soul in a tumultuous smack. That he has no other option, but to gravitate towards the noise – followed by a slightly heavier laugh.

The boy sprints ahead, unveiling his wings and flapping rigorously as his heart begins to soar with his body. As if his soul, remembering what that sound had ‘felt’ like, was at once compelled to dip and dive into that once blissful time.

Not far off from the ground, he spots a gangly sort of girl – her wings fluffed and virgin, stomping and squealing within the water’s depths. She, fairly unknown to the boy, also appears much smaller and juvenile than himself.

Saoirse stumbles across from them on the opposite shore. Sliding to a halt, kicking up sand. With a sneeze he watches from his vantage point. Feeling the pull that grapples with his soul, and says, let’s join them! But instead the boy watches them for a moment. The girl’s companion is a stranger too. And it’s hard for the boy discern the stranger’s foalish ways from his slightly, more developed body. For which the boy hardly takes notice of.

The thought to join them still burns at the edges of his mind. And for the first time in forever, the boy finds himself reluctant.

It’s just water, he realizes. And begrudgingly dips a hoof or two from where he stands.


Image Credits

@Melita :: I apologize for my brooding bby >P

Melita Posts: 35
Dragon's Throat Filly
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16 :: Newborn - Birdsong
Sila :: Plain Zephyr :: Wakiya Heather
#4


LET ME LIVE THAT FANTASY



Too captivated, absorbed, and entranced by the water’s clear edges and softened falls, she barely heard, noticed, or regarded anyone approaching – her hooves were like mighty swords, clattering and cutting through the swirl of tides. A swell of pride hit her in the chest as she surged upon the masses, laughing again when it whipped her back in the face, when it hit her feathers, when it assaulted her wings, chiming and echoing along the dunes, giggling by herself, thoroughly entertained. So when another’s voice cut through the crescendo (Hey!), she immediately ceased, head swiveling rapidly at the abrupt sound – finally noting the stranger in her midst.

She could’ve done one of several things, and her mind coiled, curled, contorted with all the potent thoughts. She could run, chased away from her amusement and diversions, flee like someone hunted, but it seemed cowardly, and she wasn’t meant to be a weakling, hastened to the shadows every time someone new crossed her path. She could poke out her tongue and make rude gestures, noises, because she thought it was funny and she wondered what he’d do in return, this small silver stallion (and mother wasn’t here to scold her, to shake her head, to frown). She settled on another one entirely though, for little Melita was made of sterner stuff, and likely in the future something would smack her, would drown her, would ruin her all the more for the level of impudence and defiance layered through her frame, but she didn’t care, didn’t know – she savored, she relished, she devoured every ounce of triumph she could claim.

The other returned fire, and therein catalyzed the audacity, the boldness, and the fervor within her. She laughed and giggled and screeched, rising on her hind hooves and striking at the air, at the water, altering her voice so it sounded deep and bellowing, like those mighty soldiers wandering around the place, like a battle-weary champion of the dust and sun. “I’m the all mighty Water Monster,” she proclaimed, pretending, attempting not to break character by fluttering in another whirl of delight and grandeur, opting for opulence and silliness again by a feral touch and ferocious, flying liquid galvanized by the waves, attempting to poorly drown her latest victim. “You cannot destroy me!” One leg drove through the water, breaking the surface and swirling through its forces rapidly, intending to lance a sheet of rain to descend upon her newest foe (friend, like Iskra, even without a name to his face).

Then, there seemed to be another hooking, snaring, snagging her attention, a shudder of movement and sound from along the shoreline. An unknown boy lingered there, bright ivory and crimson hues dotted along the embankment (she wanted to ask him if it was like blood, glorious and triumphant, stained from slaughtering his enemies), and she shouted against the current, intertwining her loud exuberance with her actual vocals, “Come join us!” in invitation, in exultance, in upheaval, forgoing the thoughts of holding back – forward, always onward into the skies and sea.


           


@Saoirse @Pippigrin

Pippigrin Posts: 77
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind
#5












home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread


A ludic splash broke upon the hobbit's shoulder, causing his lungs to errupt with laughter and his wings to flare with anticipation for another wave of aqua. His two front feet pitter-pattered clumsily around the young one, the one who was still completely nameless, the one whos joy had plucked his from the depths of self-doubt and melancholy only moments before. Though, only a moment later he noted that her playful stomps had ceased.
Looking up with wide, stone-coloured eyes, his mouth agape and chest heaving, Pip would soon ask why she had stopped or what was wrong. Did she not like playing with him? Pippigrin found the youngin blinking back, and soon the joy began to fall from the top of his chest, fall down and down until he felt an awful sinking feeling within his ribcage. Did she not like him?

His agape, heavily breathing mouth closed as he directed his breath through his nose and sheepishly looked away, puzzled as to what he could have done wrong.
It was then that the sun-coloured babe boomed a great bellow towards him; one that caused his ears to prick and jaw to fall once more.
“I’m the all mighty Water Monster,” the bairn had spoken.

"OH!" Pippigrin blurted, his hind legs parting and wings flaring in an attempt to prepare for flight should he need to make a quick escape from such a fearsome predator. A number of moments passed and soon came the realisation that the young one was not a water monster in disguise, but was merely pretending to be one; what a close call.
“You cannot destroy me!”

Straightening his back and puffing his chest to it's full capacity, the minuscule gent soon gave a great bellow of his own. His wings stretched far and wide, causing the hobbit to appear almost triple in size (which still, was not very big).
"and I am the great Captain Pip!" He boomed, a stomp of his hoof sending splashes flying. "I deal with sea monsters every day!"

The sea monster's attention is diverted to a newcomer on the edge of the oasis, his feet gingerly prodding the water. Ah-hah! Another sea monster slayer.
"YOU SIR!" Captain Pip cheered, lifting his small bodice up upon his unsteady wings and fluttering over the short distance to the freckled child. "There be a sea monster! We must slay it!"





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@saoirse

Saoirse Posts: 55
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Tribrid :: 16.2 adult :: 3 seasons [Orangemoon]
mar
#6



S A O I R S E



The coolness of the oasis deters the youth. Having sunbathed for so long, the frigid waters appear nearly painful, when compared to the warmth of the sun and the ground. For a moment he’s blocked the pair out. His derision threatening to blot out the desire to forgo the curdling in his soul, to abandon the world for another day.

Something of monsters and captains unravel, and finally puncture out with a startling invitation - “Come join us!” She says.

The boy sweeps his gaze up, wide and lost in the filly’s abrasive joy. Golden eyes and honeyed canvass, darkened by the splatters, and splotches that mar her body. Swallow her limbs in the glistening surfaces.

With a startle, the silver bodice of the colt joins Saoirse. His voice booming and just as confident and abandoned as the filly’s mischievous pulls. Chest swelled and wings parted to deliver the boy up to speed.

“A sea monster?” But monsters were very much real, alive, and poised to destroy and kill. A tentative smile is finally ushered across his face, attempting to ignore the nightmares of the bone creature, and its talons and teeth. Begrudgingly he accepts the water’s potential ice, and fixes the filly with a narrowed gaze.

“We must hurry, before it rallies more of its kind!” And with that a grin etches against his façade, raising his head like those of the noble warriors and legendary leaders of the past. Imagining what sorts of powers the Sun God might bless them with, to conquer their foes and defend their lands. The boy lunges into the shallow waters. “Do your worst, all mighty sea beast! You cannot escape the Captain, or I, a Slayer of Demons!” The ferocity in his voice rises, more likely as a result of the frigid waters against his warm hide. White and crimson wings out stretched and flared.

Turns his gaze back to The Capitan, and nods sternly to. “By Sun and Flame we will thrive!” He is waiting for the charge, and while pretending to feel the swell of courage that inhabits his soul – he is all too easily transported into its tangible swing. Adopting what he’d heard the Mother of Companions thrust into the air – it would be a rallying call that the boy would nurture for years to come.



@Pippigrin   @Melita

Melita Posts: 35
Dragon's Throat Filly
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16 :: Newborn - Birdsong
Sila :: Plain Zephyr :: Wakiya Heather
#7


LET ME LIVE THAT FANTASY



The youth hadn’t expected or prepared to run into a famed monster-slayer, but she handled the predicament with aplomb, assaulting the oasis with vibrant, tenacious, chaotic motions of her hooves, pressing into the water over and over again, roaring, howling, giggling as the droplets cascaded over her wings, hurtling, harpooning, back towards Captain Pip. Even as he beckoned more assailments, this great, grand sailor postured in the mist and sands (she wanted to inquire how many Krakens he’d maimed or destroyed, how many had floated, belly up, from his treacherous regime), she didn’t care, and became thoroughly soaked, tarnished, and drenched from both sieges, a delusional victory in the making. For the moment, it was only play, but in the future, who knew which tales she’d write – if authors would transcribe her in tumultuous details, scoring over the tempestuous nature, the bright, emboldened graces, the feral, ferocious interludes, the layer of pride and dauntlessness ensconced in her gold eyes. Or perhaps they’d paint her broad strokes of nothingness, boldness only savoring her in scalding moments, when she’d run out of luck, out of hope, drained to the last drop, relished and savored only as she became minute and finite. She dared to dream, regardless of destiny or kismet, shrieking and pawing and igniting the world on fire for the sake of her amusements and diversions, to listen to the wind laugh in her ears, to cry out and beckon for more and more and more – greedy for knowledge, hungry for friends, thirsty for the chance to shine and learn.

Then the other joined, away from his solitary waltz along the shore, perhaps enticed by the promise of bloodshed, by the death of a fiend (and then she wondered, briefly in her little, wandering mind, if this was how monsters felt before their deaths, surrounded, yearning to be impervious but realizing, knowing, comprehending that they were about to be consigned back into oblivion).

But she didn’t back down so easily – it wasn’t in her nature to wilt, to wither, to decay back into the fronds, palms, and sands – she was too proud, too fierce, too wild, too savage. So she lowered her skull, elongated her nape, spun movements like a snake, like an asp, like a cobra, fanning out her motions in slinking, serpentine gestures, as if she were a watery Medusa, born and rising from the sea, granted invocations by Poseidon again. Melita hissed, played, pretended, struggled not to laugh in between her motions, and then shifted her wings so they flung out into the water in all directions, sending the ricocheting ripples out in a massive fan – potent, lethal, deadly to foreign crusaders and wishful heroes. “You can’t handle my worst!” The girl boasted, triumphant and thunderous, defiant and rebellious, shifting a little further into the waves, daring them to follow, to trace and beckon against her steps, so they could gulp and gape in the massive swells of her oncoming storm.  

But then, struck by her own convictions, she tripped over something along the lakebed, and was suddenly, instantly, submerged, head dragged underwater by the roll of movements. The water enclosed over her nares and she couldn’t breathe, eyes widened, taking in the sights, the sounds, before panic rose within her chest and she came sprinting, reeling, back up to the surface with a cough, a wheeze, and reverence in her actual voice, astonished by her zealous, ardent mistake. “Whoa! That was awesome!”


           

@Saoirse @Pippigrin

Pippigrin Posts: 77
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind
#8












home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread


His fluttering chest, rising and falling like waves upon a tide; it was the only thing keeping his light weight body grounded. With each playful, joyous leap his wings sought to lift him upwards, the current wishing to tear him away form his new-found friend who remained nameless and perfect to him.

The freckled demon-slayer he sought to recruit was soon at his side, his own vibrant wings knocking bullets of water and debris at the sea serpent. "Do your worst!" The ginger had boomed, "By the sun and flame we will thrive!"
Pippigrin knew not how to respond to such a well-spoken battle cry, one worthy of the gods, so he just gave a great stomp; one accompanied by an awkward, lip-wobbling murmur of the word "...Yes!"

With his new-found comrade the Captain bravely fought, his wingbeats becoming cannon fire and kicks turning into the fire of swivells. Leaping, fluttering, and at some points needing to pause to gasp for air, Pip had hardly remembered a time he had so much fun.
Soon, their predicament changed when the monster backed into the water, the depths from whence it had come. "Slayer of Demons!" Pippigrin cried "The monster - it's retreating!"

Wings flared, ears pricked and hooves beating against the oasis floor below, Pippin watched as the young fae toppled into the water. For a few moments he laughed - they were victorious!
But no; in the end, the fae sinking under the water's surface was not a sea monster, but a young filly.
"Hey!" Pippigrin boomed, bounding forth upon his coal-coloured wings. "Hey, stop! you could drown!"

When the desert-coloured girl broke once again from the water's surface, spluttering and striking from the depths, A heavy sigh of relief fell from the hobbits lips. 'That was awesome!'
"Nah!! That was scary!" Pip protested, looking directly upon her face with a concerned gaze.




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@saoirse


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