the Rift


Afterlife [OPEN]

Nora Posts: 52
Aurora Basin Mare
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 3
Angel
#41
I swallow, cleansing my palate…Noah…mini me whispers, urging, readjusting my focus to the here and now. Anxious, taunt irises hover tentatively over his milky, gilded flesh. While tapped within those tense seconds, there appears to be naught but the shell of another proud victim. Apprehensive lungs constrict, solidifying my grief and remorse into an iron-like knot which becomes lodged in the back of my mouth. Then…I sip upon the humid air…and he…those ginormous, two toned sides strain into a yawn. He lives. I turn my face toward the splash of tepid relief. Reprieve continues to trickle in…becoming a powerful surge when the eagle stretches testily, (seeming to be as unburdened as me.) Unspoken gratitude undoes the gnarled, dark emotions trapped within me. A muffled nicker dribbles from these lax lips, a wordless gesture of consolation and acknowledgement.

As he adjusts, resolving to settle into our dirty nest of twig, blood and leaf – the movement brings awareness to my own mortal discomforts. A numbing, tingling ache is spreading beneath me, pulsing from a cramped right wing. I pull these twig legs closer and lean forward like he does – removing a portion of myself from the hinge of that crimped arm.

These shutters narrow, allowing just a crack…an unbidden sigh filters in from the depths. I feel it again. An opposing aura. It settles just above my skin, hovering like a miasma – drawing my discomfort and lending me fortitude. But the alien presence isn’t like that of the first; it felt similar...but much fainter…like the last rays of twilight, paling before the beautiful face of night. And like twilight, it vanishes swiftly into the cool embrace of evening. Another bystander deteriorates and joins us upon the ground…irises widen, surprised concern flickers beneath the strengthening haze.

The cloth laden warrior speaks, snagging my focus from the crowd (and the curious members within it) – I’m attentive to him, but those alien words aren’t tailored to suit these ears. Confusion brightens my expression in an ill way. I wait for a translation, but nothing is provided. He retreats some distance off from the us, seemingly satisfied to linger nearby...staring off into the timberline…lost within his mind.

Muscles quiver, thawing from their cramped position. Around me, it feels as though the forest is releasing a pent breath. It breaths outward, the wind rustles those stagnate treetops above us, scattering droplets of light. Optics skim their battlefield, eyeing the scattered entrails wordlessly. Then…as the quiet murmurs subside…a fresh dose of reality comes trotting in. The body…realization grates, hissing in my ears. They will find him. Find me. Horror reignites, squelching my brief moment of reprieve. I didn’t have the strength to haul it away…nor a way to destroy it. Anxiety -my constant companion- lingers on the threshold; only the comfort of numbers holds it at bay.

As our healer rises, I glance over at him reflectively…but self taught aversion corrects my impudence. Irises drop. The proximity and memory of his gentleness is recent and not easily forgotten. "Le corps," though my voice is unwavering, stronger even, it would seem muted to the crowd. A habit born early on. Still…I force myself to strain, to rise above those other voices; striving to be heard by the farthest of our group, "détruire lui." The soil is saturated with the taste of death…negativity would suggest that they will find it no matter what.

OC:-hover over text for a translation!-

@Vitani
@Noah

Noah Posts: 59
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3 :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Riven
#42
Clarity looms like a dark storm on the horizon: it nears, riding turbulent winds towards him. Though not one to stare ordinarily, his eyes fix with little discretion, questioningly, wonderingly, upon the sole speaker, absorbing the fantastic oddness of a reptilian (impossible!), mare; his existence has been a marvellously sheltered one, limited to meandering white shorelines and turquoise water (glistening skinks and bandy sea-snakes) - paradise. She is unnervingly exquisite and his gaze falters briefly; the hot flames of curiosity burn the inner shell of his skull. Nothing more than a concerned bystander is the unfittingly humble response, so his returning sensibility remains unconvinced - it chants, what is she? His eyes strain, bloodshot and weary (but addicted nonetheless), tracing the supernatural pattern of scales when they glint in the last burst of daylight.

Thoughts are bogged down in a swamp of ambivalence, but he nods to her, even smiles. He is wildly unsatisfied, but the daunting presence her appearance offers, baits his tongue to rest. After an awkwardly long while spent upon her, he pulls his gaze clear. It tracks a short distance before finding the warm mahogany face of the mother; high cheeks bones etched intricately by maternal concern, fatigue that spurred memory of his own dam. The babe too stood near, timidly, witnessing a violent aftermath that she should undoubtedly have been spared. He has spent very little time with children over the course of his years - the Yirrganydji’s bore only a single offspring, and a mere nine months after his own birth, a strict class education had commenced. Friends were colleagues; relationships were professional.

The ingrained indifference he regarded their attendance with (unbeknownst to him, the older’s touch had healed), is marred by familiar astonishment; though they weren’t ostentatiously adorned like the rest of the crowd, this pair were more striking still - smooth, radiant pearls. Not a single feather to suggest normalcy and he feels suddenly plain in their shadow, beside the absurd beauty they embody. Neither show words to suggest their identity - he is insignificant in their wonderland, just a bird passing through, and lashes dip low as his eyes wander on.

He finds the first male, a creamy, cloven hoof - and then three more the same. Long, lean legs, white and then copper, guide his pale, whiskered chin upwards; there is a scattering of ivory across the far breast, the shoulder area too he thinks; both are naked, featherless and strange. Over the nearer, a long veil of flaxen tumbles against skin (though not as glorious as his own), and from the poll a tall crown of trees grows toward the forest heights above. For a moment his eyes explore the trembling green canopy - the murder which still sit within it ceremoniously… what world is this, so unlike his home? His attention centres once more, to find green gem-stone eyes caressing the wounded dove - even from a distance, he can see the tenderness emanating. Though he couldn’t explain the feeling, it brought warmth to his core.

The last, a stallion also he assumes, stands imperiously over the broken devil. He cannot bring himself to inspect the horned stranger for this reason - and he fails too, for now, to find the link to the riddle. Preoccupied, the slender prince too says naught in answer, and sea-green pools tire; they seek refuge, returning to the quiet comfort that the ‘concerned bystander’ brings. Lips kiss upon a bent knee while he recovers his breath.

Despite the distraction, the trauma of it all, he hasn’t forsaken his darling doe. She lays a small distance from him, stirs, speaks in her exotic tongue, and he knows for the most part that she is safe (though why she has fluttered back from the ivory gates of heaven is beyond him - he escaped hell by the skin of his teeth). When his heart beats more smoothly, he turns his face towards her. Gathering the impossible strength since returned, he readies himself, flexes the network of brawn built across him - and then, with a forward focused frown, he forces his bulk to stand. Wings flare outwards untrustingly, prepared to aid should gravity tempt him to fall; he does not, and after a second’s hesitation, thick, trembling limbs carry him to her. “I’m sorry,” begins his croaky voice (he clears his throat). “I had no idea.”

@Vitani @Toulouse
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Vitani Posts: 92
Dragon's Throat Mare atk: 3.5 | def: 8 | dam: 7
Mare :: Equine :: 14.2 :: Three Years HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
Sarabi :: Common Hellhound :: Hellfire Emily
#43

VITANI
When we look up at the stars, we see only the memory of light; and though they are distant we know they still shine


I lay on the ground, trying to gather my strength. I never knew using magic and healing someone took so much out of me... Was this how Momma felt? I know she had been a healer back in the Falls.. Tori pressed against my side, laying down with me. I smile softly, looking at my little princess. Sarabi, we need to go home.... I mentally speak, seeing that we really aren't needed here anymore. You need to rest first. I know my bonded is right but the urge to get my daughter back to the Throat and back to her protective Father is strong.

I try to stand, grumbling as my body doesn't seem to agree with my wants at first. But then I make it to my hooves. Victorina scrambles up along side me and Sarabi with her. Lead us home. I speak simply. We weren't needed nor really wanted here.

Little do I know what awaits us along our long journey home.

"Talk"
Sarabi Talks



-Vitani out


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