the Rift


[OPEN] everything heals

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#1
What happened?

You saw what happened, Dramyrth.

But what happened?

Not now, Dramyrth.

But - -

Not now.


It was perhaps the harshest she had ever spoken to her beloved, her bonded, her soulmate. The dragonmare was tired, spent, her body physically drained and her mental capacity swiftly following - she ached, seemingly everywhere, her chest felt like daggers were stabbing into it every time she moved, her legs just felt like they were still on fire. Silvery blood trickled from her wounds -- huh, I have silver blood -- and though the damage was less severe wherever dragonscales adorned her, they too were not immune to the immense heat that had emanated from the cheetah's whims.

Sorry, she reached out after a moment of feeling absolutely wretched. I promise I'll try to explain.. But how could she? How could she explain the fact that somewhere within her laid the spirit of a golden-dragon-queen, who rose up with a vicious, furious hunger every now and then, who changed her completely, turned her into a weapon, a primal force capable of only destruction, hatred, dominance? It's okay, came the purring, comforting response of her beloved, who blew cool air upon her wounds as he danced around her battered and broken body. Dramyrth was ever loyal to his beloved - she was his queen, always and forever, nothing would ever change that.

As her cousin healed the others, and after a quick survey to ensure none were critically hurt (she offered her muzzle or shoulder to any who needed a steadying touch, but otherwise there was little else she could do), Amaris kept walking. Crowds had never suited the belle, such was the ridicule she usually received for simply existing, and the presence of the dragons that were the pegasus mare and her cousin simply spurred her onwards - to see her cousin transform had brought up memories of events that had taken place merely months previously (for her, anyway). The DragonHeart had fallen, she had been the only one to hold that magic previously, it was little wonder that now when Amaris saw it she was sorely reminded of her. The DragonHeart, Amaris chewed on the title, not liking how it tasted - mother would always be what she called the DragonHeart, though it was always in her favour to announce such facts.

So the dragonmare walked, her gait hitched and strained, but for the most part steady, into the cavernous rooms below. Her wings spread as she entered the Sanctuary room, the footing beneath her sliding her forward roughly - more blood, more pain blossomed, a silver trail marked the path she kept taking. Suddenly, they were before a wall, but her eyes barely took in the story that danced across it; water, was all she could think now. Dramyrth, golden scales flickering in the strange fiery light, illuminated the path she must walk, watched closely as his bonded reached the bubbling pond, dipped her silver-gold muzzle into it, and drank deeply.

A coolness spread through her, a light, a cleansing sensation filled her. She drank deeply, for the water seemed to only keep coming, clearing the fog of pain and helping her body begin its healing process. With dripping whiskers, the dragonmare raised her maw at last, feeling far and away improved, better able to direct her thoughts and concentrate on her surroundings. She barely remembered how she got here -- where are the others? -- but with more time and thoughts shared with Dramyrth, she recalled everything clearly.

Looking around, she vaguely observed the great decorations that described how the Helovian Gods came here, though she was not enthralled enough to absorb much of it right now -- Dramyrth, she asked, go, get who you can to follow you back here. The water could help all who have just suffered that demons whims. The golden king did as he was bid, though not without a trailing thought that they still needed to have that conversation, much as the dragonmare would like to procrastinate it forever. Huffing slightly, Amaris summoned her magic almost to spite him - and with a surprise, suddenly found five little souls illuminating the cavern (and her mind) with the memories of their physical forms.

A green, two reds, a blue and a brown all danced before her, before she sent them too, on Dramyrth's path, hoping she might encourage others to join her down here, where it was cooler, where there was water, where they could all recuperate from the events that had just unfolded above.

The full ramifications of her experiences above, the improved strength and control of her magic that she seemed to have, tickled the back of her mind uncomfortably. Just another thing she would have to talk to Dramyrth about eventually, she supposed - for now, she waited to see if any would follow her, or if she was destined to be alone, a walk of life she had grown accustomed to despite her desire for nothing more than having a family, friends.. Quietly, she rested her aching limbs by standing still, leaning against a stalagmite, not realising that some of the glow in the cavern was being cast from the very wounds that were beginning to pucker and heal across her body.


ooc: @Tandavi
Continuation of everything burns [magic drop] :: Open thread for any who would like to RP out healing/the aftermath of the fire/light magic Drop! Feel free to follow Amaris, her companion or her magic spirits if you would like to join in C:
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#2

ask no questions

She follows the dragon mare, because something had happened. Something different to that mare than the others, and Weaver is curiosity. Yes yes, curiosity killed the cat and all that. But cats have nine lives, so they can afford to die once or twice. Weaver has as many lives as she pleases, so she can afford to die as often as she pleases. This is one of those moments where she might have preferred to die. Everything hurts. Her wings are singed, her feet fried where she’d tried to go at the cheetah’s eyes. For a while, she doesn’t even shift back, sticking to her raven form as she follows.

Raven finds her somewhere away from the destruction, joining her in the air with worry coursing through him. He can feel her pain, certainly, though he cannot reprimand him for her foolishness. Would he, even? She doesn’t know. Once, he was her mother’s, watched her with her mother’s eyes. Now, in Helovia, Raven was different. He was hers, and she’s not sure if this version of him wouldn’t blame her for being her.

She’s still in Raven form, following the trail of silver blood, when a gold dragon and colored spirits come flying by. In search of something? Someone? She’s not sure. She keeps going, finally landing and shifting back. The pain of the shift rips through her, washing away the burns for only a moment. When she’s back to her horse-self, everything hurts again, and she limps slightly on her burned feet. A strange glow comes from each, looking like she’s still on fire, though she’s not. The glowing orange wounds are not actually on fire, do not hurt more as they continue to flicker. Strange, she thinks, though she kind of likes it. Maybe she would stay like this.

Eventually, she finds the mare near some water. For a moment, she doesn’t speak, going straight for the water instead. It is cool and refreshing and though it does little to ease the pain, it quenches her thirst. Which is enough. Weaver is no stranger to pain, and she can live with that. “You okay?” is all she says when she finally can speak.Weaver may hurt, but she wasn’t leaving a trail of blood behind her like the dragonmare.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Amaris

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#3
Bird, came the message, though by which dragon Amaris could not tell. Five of them at once, five. That's never happened before, was all she was dwelt on at the moment, unable to really move past it, as the psuedo-bonds she created with each soul filled her mind with many different perspectives, thoughts and sensations. It was me, came the deep, resonate tones of her true bonded, her Dramyrth, who halted his flight prematurely and made to return to his bonded, concern for her growing within him as he realises she is close to losing herself in her newfound ability.

The dragonmare was close, but not quite there. As the distance between she and Dramyrth closed, she felt more grounded, less 'spread out' - she regained control of herself and her magic, and didn't let it sap her attention or energy any more than it needed to. She is surprised then, when a winged and horned mare arrives around the bend, with Dramyrth following not too many wingbeats behind. A few seconds pass as the paint approaches the water source (Amaris shifts herself to ensure she has easy access), where the dragonmare searches her memories of the event that had just unfolded, and attempts to recall the mare - ah, she hummed through her bond as realisation and recognition triggered, another shapeshifter.

"Better with water," Amaris replied softly with a small nod, eyeing the burns that adorned the hybrid, watching them smoke and steam. "And you?" she asked, hoping the water had a similar soothing effect on this stranger. Amaris did not usually seek to harm others, and yet there have been times when her actions have led others to be harmed; she wished she could do more to prevent it, to protect and defend and heal and correct - but there wasn't more she could do than what she was already doing. It pained her to see another soul hurt, another being's body having been ravaged and scarred.

"I've never been able to call upon five of them before," she added conversationally, as her golden king settled carefully atop her withers, avoiding any areas of her barrel that were still overly sensitive to touch. "I hope none are permanently damaged above."

@Weaver
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#4

ask no questions

She isn’t concerned with the pain. Not really. Pain just means you are alive. It’s a good thing, sometimes, brings her back to her senses in a way nothing else quite can. It means she didn’t end up getting hurt enough it was time for another visit to her friend Death. Not that she always minded going, but coming back was strange, like she’s not quite herself for a day or two. Her brain is slower, her atittude gone, her body sluggish. Never the most fun. She’d rather just live with the pain of the burns, though she can’t help but enjoy the way they flicker and glow. Better than the average scar.

Her body is litered with average scars. She’s been fighting all her life, throwing herself into on stupid situtation after another. And not because her heart bleeds for those that might be in danger in those situtations. She protects, yes, but for her own selifsh reasons and nothing more. Because she loves to fight. Because fighting often simply means she is protecting someone. But she is just as likely to be the one causing chaos and damage as she is to be the one stopping it.

“The water helps, thank you.” But even if she so often the storm, she can be poliet, she can pretend. She can claim she fought to save those that could not simply fly away. In some way, she did, but only because there’s a part of her that soars at the idea of it all, of fighting a cheetah made of fire. She finally starts to pay more attention to her companion now, the dragon that has come back to join her. A dragon mare and her dragon companion.

They are not so different in that way. Weaver is half raven (in her way, between the shifting and the raven wings that always adorn her back, no matter her form), with her own Raven companion. She’d love to call upon more of them, to create armies of raven’s instead of just the two of them. The way this dragon mare has her small army of dragons. “It’s impressive,” she admits, thankfully without any trace of jealousy in her voice. “I saw them as I was coming this way. What are they, exactly?” She pauses, waiting for an answer, before remembering to add, “Those above seemed okay when I left. Burns heal, they just hurt like hell.” Because they did hurt like a mother, and some might be a little less used to pain than a dragon or solider.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Amaris

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#5
Concern for those above always at the forefront of her mind, Amaris did her best to manage the split of focuses that was the spirit-dragons constant hum of feedback versus the present moment, here, with the hybrid mare. She had years of practise, having been able to summon them since birth, but the surprise, the shock and the newness of being able to summon five at a time still rattled her, distracted her - you are here, cam Dramyrth's grounding tones, I have you. Life with him was better, it had been only a few months (for her) since the bond had been forged, but he was so a part of her being, her soul, she did not want to remember life before that pivotal moment. He offered a new level of intuition, a new perspective, an ability to call her back to the present, to ensure she did not get swept away when her magic or her wayward thoughts ran away from her.

The other mare offered a comment on her ability, impressive, and Amaris wasn't sure how to respond. Compliments weren't something she was used to receiving, though she did enjoy sharing her vast knowledge of dragons with others, this was a unique situation where she was still concerned about something else going on aboveground. "Since I was a child, I've been able to summon spirits of dragons. Their souls, their memories, their thoughts all exist when I call upon my magic - though I've never called more than two at a time before. And I feel like there's still something.. more.. within me." It was difficult to describe, this undercurrent of power that surged through her. She was tired, and aching besides, yet she was able to maintain the souls she had summoned at some distance with relative ease, when not long ago she had struggled to send two a short distance away.

"Magic," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders ( though it turned swiftly into a wincing grimace as her skin pulled tight against the burns which glowed and steamed across her hide ). "We did just send a cheetah made of fire back to their fiery depths of Helovia's Heart, perhaps this enhancement is just a side-effect," her voice was soft, the fatigue that was plaguing her slowly getting stronger. Let go, Dramyrth's insistent tug to her mind came, and she relinquished the magic keeping the souls present on this plane - if any were looking at them aboveground, they would have witnessed the spirits simply winking out of existence.

The moment it happened, her energy levels rose. Taking a deeper breath, she nodded along to the other mare's words, before dipping her nose back into the water's surface and taking another small drink, relishing the cleansing sensation the water had as it trickled down her oesophagus. With her mind less split, the dragonmare was able to focus more on the painted hybrid lady before her - as well as the bird who accompanied her. "I'm Amaris, and this is Dramyrth -" ( the dragon cooed softly from his perch atop her withers ) "- who might you and your friend be?"

@Weaver
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#6

ask no questions

There was a short, strange and horrible moment when she’d first come to Helovia that she didn’t have Raven. In her old home, Raven had been her mother’s creation, a constant babysitter that watched with her eyes and scolded with her voice. As Weaver had gone farther from home, the magic had faded, and he’d been more Raven than magic, not quite hers. Then, when she crossed into Helovia, he was simply gone. Though her resurrection wasn’t. Perhaps whatever stripped her of Raven couldn’t strip her of the mark on her chest, or the powers that mark conveyed.

She hadn’t been in Helovia long when she found the egg though, a little baby raven nestled inside. He was her Raven. More hers than he’d ever been, even. She has no idea if this is really true, but the bond was so instantaneous and familiar, his personality the same, that she’d never really doubted they were somehow one in the same. That this was how it was always meant to be. She would never admit aloud that Raven was half her soul, flitting about outside her body, but he was. She cares for him in a way she will never care for those above.

She listens to the mare talk, interested if only because this mare is certainly different. Because she seems like she might know quite a lot, if asked the right questions. Though she doesn’t ask any for a moment, just letting the other mare talk, answering the question Weaver had already asked. “Hell of a side effect. Better than glowing burns,” she says with a laugh. Though she secretly really likes her glowing burns, and she had no intention of letting Mortuus anywhere near them. No one needed to remove the cool, story-worthy scars.

The dragonmare introduces herself, and for a moment, Weaver just looks at the mare and the dragon that accompanies her. “You seem to have an affinity for dragons,” she says obviously, curious more about the why than the fact of it. But she doesn’t ask outright, giving the mare the option to elaborate or not. After all, Weaver had a thing for Ravens, though the reason for that had no interesting answer. She’d grown up with a mother that could control, create, and manipulate ravens (elemental and real, didn’t matter), and the affinity had just sort of stuck. “Weaver, and Raven.”  Raven caws, head cocked mostly in the direction of the dragon on Amaris back. Why? Because it is shiny, and Raven collects shiny things. She’s not entirely sure he understands the difference between collecting and friends. They are sort of one in the same for her curious little companion.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Amaris

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#7
The hybrid mare before her studied her, though not unkindly; more like an academic would peer at a document they wished to understand, or a student longing to grasp a concept. The dragonmare accepted the gaze, for it was not impolitely given, merely gently curious - there was no scorn or judgement behind her eyes, no prejudiced hate or fear, merely curiosity, which was something Amaris could understand herself, and appreciate. As Weaver announced Amaris' own affinity for dragons, the golden girl allowed a wider grin to curve her lips, huffing a gentle laugh through her nostrils as she merely nodded absently.

"We all have our quirks," she responded, glancing at the dragon upon her withers who was trying to imitate the caw that Weaver's Raven had made (though it sounded decidedly too dragon-like to ever pass as a raven's call). "Dragonsblood flow through my veins, courtesy of my sire; though my mother wasn't called the DragonHeart for no reason either," she said lightly as her tiara returned to its neutral position, not thinking of the impact her words might have on an essentially unknown entity - she did not usually boast about her lineage, for though Mirage the DragonHeart achieved great things, she also left a walk of destruction in her wake.

But Amaris was not given the luxury to think of the impact her words might have on the stranger, for just mentioning her parents again brought the memories, the feelings and emotions to the surface once more. Mirage, her mother, was dead, gone, passed to the next realm - just over six months had passed for Amaris, though far longer had passed on Helovia's timescale (thanks to a most inconvenient timeslip). For that same reason, Amaris now knew she would never see her father again either - both her parents were now essentially dead to her, and she was the only evidence left of their existence walking Helovia now.

Swallowing abruptly, the dragonmare guarded her façade from showing these emotions, instead distracting herself from such things and focussing once more upon the horned, winged belle before her. "Is your affinity ravens?" she asked, recalling clearer the fact that the mare transformed earlier, noting now that though she was painted in appearance, her wings were similar in shape and design as that of her companion's.

@Weaver
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#8
Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies
She judges no one for appearances. For being too nice, yes. For being weak, yes. But appearances are nothing, meaningless things mostly. Don’t get her wrong though, there some pretty badass looking horses out there, and that’s awesome (Amaris is definitely in that category, with the half-dragon thing). There’s also some very fine looking gentleman (and ladies, she’ll admit, though she’s never really been the type to be interested in that). The problem is that looking badass doesn’t necessarily make you badass. Being a handsome boy doesn’t mean you are definitely going to flirt.

She is always curious. Curiosity killed the cat, yes, but knowledge is power. And she’s got lives to spare anyway. But no, there’s not judgment in that curiosity.

Raven perks at the dragon’s attempt to caw, sticking his head up and looking more closely at the dragon that suddenly seems less like a threat. He caws again, like he’s trying to help the dragon learn the sound. Or maybe he’s just trying to talk. Weaver’s not entirely sure. Maybe, it’s both.

“Didn’t even know that was possible,” she says when Amaris explains her heritage. “I’m pretty new here, so I admit, the name is meaningless to me. But it sounds awesome.” She adds, always willing to give credit where credit is due. Being called The DragonHeart definitely sounded awesome.

Weaver doesn’t hear bragging in the short history Amaris gives. Maybe it is bragging, but she’s never been one to look down on it. Bragging is fun, and if you have something worth bragging about, why wouldn’t you? Besides, it answered a half-asked question Weaver had stuck out there, so it was hardly rude.

“Guess they are. My mother was known as the Raven Queen. She could do anything so long as it related to ravens. The wings on my back are from her, Raven here was once my babysitter. It just sort of rubbed off on me.” Though she wasn’t born with any inclination toward ravens, she’d picked it up. Hard not to when you lived in a murder of them all the time. The Chamber had been filled with ravens, coming and going, doing her mother’s bidding.

weaver

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Amaris

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#9
Amaris tried not to judge, for so often had she been on the receiving end of it (though this had decreased considerably the more time she spent with others; the more friendships and connections she made, the easier she seemed to 'fit' into the wondrous world of Helovia). But she was not immune to the inherent flaw within everybody to make judgement upon that which one saw first, though she did her best to keep an open mind, to know that people did not always reveal their true selves (for better or worse) at the first introduction.

The dragonmare's opinion of the raven-mare was therefore guarded , but not unkind or negative in its tones, but not completely decided yet. Dramyrth, though indeed a ferocious kingly dragon, was still mostly benevolent (and the bonded to Amaris to boot), and while his nerves were still on edge from the pain he could feel from his bonded, he was happy enough to play along with the raven companion of Weaver's. As the bird makes another caw, Dramyrth puffed his chest out and summoned a deeper call, bringing forth an echoing tone that was nearer to Raven's caw - but it was still so draconic - he never would imitate it perfectly (but that wouldn't stop him from trying).

Enough moments had passed by for her to be grateful that the mare did not overly react to the mention of Amaris' lineage, vague as it had been, she was glad not to besmirch whatever impression she was giving to this mare by mentioning one who had, in the opinion of some, rained terror upon the land. Amaris offered a smile at Weaver's declaration of awesomeness; it was one of the better reactions she had had to the explanation of her bloodline.

The raven-mare then supplied her own explanation, which Amaris heard with impressed grace. She was fascinated by the lores and histories of almost anything, for they offered new perspectives, new ways of thinking - she was a Philosopher after all. "That's amazing," she commented softly, "truly fascinating," she concluded with a nod. "Do you.. miss them?" she asked tentatively, too curious to help herself, too involved in her own nostalgic emotions to hold the question back. What she was really asking was, do others feel the sorrow I feel for their pasts, their histories, the 'old times' of our youths when the world seemed both so much simpler and yet so much fuller of wonder?


@Weaver
I'm going away for the long weekend so no rush on reply <3 This has been an awesome thread!!
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#10

ask no questions

If Amaris went into her history of all the terror, it’s a likely bet Weaver would stick to awesome as her assessment. She’s not really one to judge on that front. Actually, she’s far more likely to judge someone for having a damn bleeding heart. But that’s sort of what happens when you are Weaver. Her mother, though her name less awe-inspiring, was far from kind. And Weaver had been raised without much feeling. Her mother loved her, certainly, but they were hardly the hugging kind of family.

Instead, Weaver fought the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and died in the process. Death sent her back, clearly, his rune forever burned into her chest in those strange blue marks. She knew pain and hunger and hopelessness in ways most couldn’t even begin to manage, and she knew it strengthen you. She watched her mother start a war in the blink of an eye by stopping an innocent girl’s heart in front of the other monarchs of the land. A pointless war only to leave everyone running afraid of the Chamber.

And oh, how they ran afraid.

Weaver ended up dangled from the claws of a dragon, actually, in that war. Which is when her mother gave her the wings. Not that it mattered, because at that point she’d already earned her resurrection, and they could just keep threatening to kill her and she’d just keep coming back if they actually did it anyway. She’d been quite literally beaten to death on her way to Helovia, stuck in a place that simply feared strangers without a quick exit. She came back from that, too, but damn, did it hurt.

The short of it is this: terror, mayhem and chaos are kind of her things. She’s never known anything else.

Raven does a weird flapping on his wings like a happy dance, like he’s trying to say Yes! That’s closer! in some weird bird language that quite likely, only Raven actually speaks. He caws again, less to get the dragon to copy, and more just a pleased sound at this little game and the dragon’s quick progress. Weaver rolls her eyes slightly in her companion’s direction with a little amused laugh, because in the end, she can’t feel anything but love for the black bird. Even when he was acting like an idiot.

But Amaris pulls her attention back, and Weaver rolls her shoulders in a shrug. “The ravens, or my family?” she asks with a laugh, because you do not live with The Raven Queen without also living with a veritable army of ravens. “Both, in a way, though. I had three bothers and an overbearing mother and more raven babysitters than I can count. But they were my family.” She says, hoping that explains it.

Yea, they didn’t hug, but they’d always be her family. She probably didn’t miss them as someone else might, with stabs of pain or aches of loss. But sometimes she wondered what became of her disbanded family, what her mother was doing now. “My brothers left first, and eventually me. I couldn’t live in her shadow, you know?” Maybe the mare doesn’t know, maybe she does. Maybe they all sort of got that. Some shadows were just bigger than others.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Amaris
I totally love this thread! <3 Look at Weaver being all real and honest with Amaris

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#11
Must you? Amaris enquired dryly at her companion as yet more cacophony of noise erupted from his maw. The cavern echoed the sounds, rebounding them back and forth; to a bystander outside the cave, the chaotic ambience could have convinced them that a great murder of ravens was within (even if one of them did sound rather strangled and otherwise dragonly). Yes, Dramyrth said, having recovered his sense of curious humour that had dissipated from the dragonmare's prior predicament. Like Weaver, Amaris merely huffed a laugh and mentally rolled her eyes at him, smiling companionably at the pegasus mare as their companions carried on in their fun. The dragonmare wondered if Dramyrth would have given Raven the same amount of attention if another dragon had been present, but the little king was decidedly silent on the matter - Amaris knew that had Vadir, the golden queen of Volterra's, been present, his attention would not have had time for anyone else.

Amaris reflected on the words Weaver told her, on the story about her past she constructed, wondering (as she often did) at the differences and yet similarities between them. Had Weaver been a unicorn before she was 'given' her wings? Was that customary in her homeland? Or was she a hybrid whose body did not reflect the defining twin-species attributes until such a 'gift' was bestowed? Scaled ears captured her remaining words, smiling as she described the size and overbearing nature of her family. Amaris' experience had involved a mother who was also a Queen, a sister who was her twin in all except the hue of her scales, a father who was a strong, silent bronzed warrior, and her mother's golden dragon, Akaith, who kept watch on her when Mirage could not (which was quite often, as Queen's generally were kept rather busy). The dragonmare's chiselled tiara nodded, her expression conveying her understanding - she certainly understood that which Weaver was communicating, probably more than most would.

"Yes, I know," she said softly, not sure how much information she should divulge - no doubt if the hybrid wanted to find out more about the DragonHeart, she would ask around and be told many a tale from many different perspectives. "My mother was known as many things: a leader, a Queen, a tyrant, a blessed disciple of the Moon Goddess, a cursed destroyer of homes, an invader, a friend whose loyalty never wavered, a sister," Amaris spat the titles out in a monotone, not agreeing or disagreeing with any of them. "I've heard others call her ruthless, conniving, deceitful and cold-blooded," she added in the same tone. Her eyes had wandered, her golden gaze beholding the carvings upon the great wall they stood beside. A few moments passed, and she turned her sights (which, as time passed, seemed to grow sharper in focus and scrutiny, though they looked at Weaver with a silent plea for understanding) before saying: "So, yes. I do know what it is to live in the shadow of another whose actions shaped and changed the world."

The raven cawing competition seemed to have rolled into silence as Amaris had spoken, and they stood now in a silence that seemed to contain lingering echoes of their conversation. A few more breaths of time passed, before the dragonmare softened her expression, as she chewed on all that had been said and done here. A sting from her wounds brought her back to the present, and she motioned to the cave entrance. "I think I might head back, and check on those aboveground. Wouldn't want another fire cheetah to arrive again and wreak more havoc," she spoke with a wink, a friendly smirk upon her lips as she gestured an invite for the hybrid to join her. She didn't move very quickly, but with a slight limping gait as various burns pulled and pinched at her skin. "I'm glad you're alright," honest tones murmured, "whereabouts do you live now?"



@Weaver
Between Helovia being down and life, I -finally- got a chance to reply <3
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#12

ask no questions

Raven is pretty used to being ignored by most companions, and he’s fine with that plan. Because to many of the companions he’s come into contact with, he’s prey, and some are not inclined to see past that. It was only the direction of their bonded’s and sacred nature of companions that keeps him safe. So when something that would normally try to eat him shows a playful interest, he can’t help but be pleased, always a collector of things. That included friends, however he could. He probably wouldn’t be overly offended though if one day Dramyrth ignored him, because his caring never really extended so far. Collections change, after all.

Weaver had been nothing before she’d been given her wings. Born an equine with no powers. She’d earned her resurrection first, the mark on her chest the symbol of Death. Then the wings from her mother, and somewhere along the way to here the seven horns as well. A witch who believed in the power of seven, who gave the little reaper a crown of seven. Some other strangers left a pretty girl with a pretty gem. Amazing what you can find when you wander. Another group killed her, left her body to rot thankfully. Little did they except her to be gone within the hour. Never do know what you’ll find.

As Amaris agrees with her, saying that she knows what Weaver means, Weaver finds she believes the mare. Anyone with a mother known as the DragonHeart probably understood where Weaver was coming from with her Raven Queen mother. She continues, listing the many things her mother is known as, and she finds herself mentally checking off all those that sound familiar. It is pretty much everything but the disciple of the Moon Goddess, because there were not Gods where they came from. Her mother served the Chamber as closely as one could serve a god though.

“Sounds familiar,” she says simply, when the mare is done and looking at her with that silent plea. “My mother started a war simply because she could. Stopped an innocent girl’s heart in front of the other monarchs.” Her lips twist slightly, not quite a smile, not quite disgust, but a strange mix of the two. “She’s still my mother though,” because Weaver loved Straia regardless, and she didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. But at the same time, Weaver believed in at least making sure you opponent was armed or capable.

She nods when the mare breaks the silence that stretches between them, saying she wanted to check on those above. Those above hadn’t even crossed her mind, which doesn’t shock her, because she’s never cared much about others. Though she’s finding as she lives here, she cares more than she might have expected. Than she once did. Maybe it’s easier, being out of her mother’s shadow. She doesn’t have to live up to some expectation, but can be anything she wants.

“I’m glad you are alright as well,” she offers, finding she means it. They make quite a pair, both limping along through the dark cave. Weaver had forgotten about the burns, but as she moves, the pain in her feet flares to life again. She’d be flying home, clearly. “The Basin. I grew up in forests and mountains, and some things don’t change. How about you?”

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Amaris - no worries! I know how life goes.

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#13
The silence stretches onwards, and though it lasts only a few seconds, it feels like an eternity. Weaver had proven to be a curious compatriot, of similar background to Amaris yet entirely different, her outlook on life was similarly common yet uncommon - as the dragonmare watched her through the silence, she wondered, would this ravenmare accept her words, understand them, acknowledge them? Or would she turn away, let the silence linger on forevermore, a soundless announcement of her distaste for the dragonmare who had no say in the shadow of whom she would be living?

But then she agreed with her, she again confirmed that they had common paths in their histories, though the Raven Queen sounded a fearsome being (Mirage had never been one for torture, though those who lost their home to her might disagree), Weaver summed it up perfectly: 'She's still my mother though'. That was it, wasn't it? These amazing, powerful, notable mares gave birth to them, mothered them, raised them, taught them about the world, for better or worse - they were their mothers, and Amaris would not deny that she loved and missed hers sorely. Though Weaver's opinion of her mother's actions was decidedly an indifferent mixture of distaste and delight, Amaris felt her mother had not been given the chance (or perhaps taken the chance) to plead her case to those who would view her in a negative light. The DragonHeart was bound by the laws of the land, her family, her herd, the Qian, needed a home, a residence, and the only way to take it was to fight, and defeat, and chase out those within the moonlit borders of the World's Edge to take the twilight throne it hosted. Some died, it was true, but they all fought for what they believed in - Mirage did not want to, but she needed to.

Too weary to explain this, however, the dragonmare softened her hard, stony expression as the mood and conversation moved on from such things, nodding along to Weaver's assenting tones, happy to find a comrade, a friend, a kindred spirit amongst the chaos that was Helovia. As the hybrid reveals her place of residence, Amaris' insides churn slightly - the Basin, the icy throne that once had tried to invade, to decimate, to ruin her home (though was it not simply retribution, revenge, payback for the crimes they saw the Qian did to them?). The Basin was the herd ruled by the mighty Reaper, at least until recently - though time had passed since his death, she knew it was still fresh upon the minds of its citizens, her recent interaction with Tiamat had confirmed as much. As thoughts of the watery belle trickled through her mind, Amaris was able to swallow her prejudice against the northern realm, for she knew it was petty and born of a foolish habit, not with any real sense or reason behind it.

"The World's Edge," Amaris supplied, a smirking tugging at the corner of her mouth as the pair made their limping way through the various caverns. "I was born there, but found myself wandering, particularly after the wraiths ravaged the lands and took my mother. Old habits die hard," she added with a wry glance to the ravenmare, "I find the familiar misty forests of the Edge soothing, comforting almost." She didn't really know what she was describing, or how to perfectly describe it, but instead hoped that the mare would simply understand, as she had successfully done so far.

"I don't think I've ever been so far north as to behold the Basin. I've ventured to the Steppe before - I think I might do so again soon, if these burns continue to itch as they heal," a small frown crinkled her brow as she watched where she walked carefully, her tender legs carrying her slowly, but steadily so far. Dramyrth had lifted from her back and was drifting alongside her, puffing breaths of cool, frosty air every now and then to offer some cooling comfort against the hot, melted burns of the mares.


@Weaver
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#14

ask no questions

She loved her mother, yes, but she didn’t necessarily miss her mother. Missing someone wasn’t really in their family DNA though. They were breed to believe in the ‘love em and leave em’ philosophy on life. It was hard to do what you needed to when emotions got in the way, she supposed. The Raven Queen had loved her home, had pulled it from the literal ashes of the volcano that destroyed it and had turned it into a legend. She used fear to create power and power to create fear. They were not the best methods, but they worked, and in her own strange way her mother had did what she thought was right.

Weaver’s methods would be her own. Perhaps not so different from her mother’s, but still, different. Methods designed to be better, to do more. She didn’t judge anyone for the method’s they chose though. Sometimes the high road will not take you where you need to go. She only judged those who did not try at all.

She is too new to know the history of the Basin that Amaris knows. She’s been learning the history, particularly the bits about their prejudice against wings. As one of their first and only winged members, she finds she has a particular interest in this topic. But she doesn’t yet know all that much, and certainly knows nothing of an invasion against the World’s Edge. She didn’t even know The Reaper, only his legend. But that was the past, and the future is a whole different beast. But with only three herds in a land, it seems entirely likely that history will repeat itself in some variation or another.

“Wraiths?” she asks as Amaris speaks of the Edge and her mother, forgetting to be polite and sensitive before the word is already out. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” she adds,  because Amaris is not Erebos, and she’s not going to force the truth from her as she does him. Because burying the truth destroys him, and that does not seem to be the case here. At least, not as much.

“It sounds like a nice home. Though anywhere called the World’s Edge sounds intriguing, I admit.” Who wouldn’t want to say they’d been to the end of the world and back? “I’d be happy to show you around the Basin sometime if you want. Just don’t come waving the flag from the Edge. There’s been quite a number of you lately.” She gives Amaris a sly smile, as if making an exception for a friend. And in a way, she is. Because they didn’t just let everyone come wandering around there home. Though for now, before she returns to her much cooler home, she’ll just keep on appreciating the gold dragon and his cooling breath.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Amaris

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
#15
"Oh, it's alright," Amaris said as the mare probed further about yet another detail the dragonmare had glossed over in her previous reply. She said the words with an understanding smile, almost pleading forgiveness for speaking so briefly about events that occurred prior to Weaver's arrival at the lands. "The wraiths came with a great darkness, a disease of sorts, among other things. The source seemed to be the Spectral Marsh, so that is where my mother went with her brothers and sister, while my father was charged with taking myself and my sister to his birthlands of dragons. The world seemed to collapse in on itself.. I don't remember much more than that, I was quite young."

It was a summarised version, succinctly presented as they wandered through the caverns and back towards the surface. A light laugh escaped her as Weaver's invitation was swiftly followed by a cautionary note, and the dragonmare nodded her understanding. The Edge had a quest that involved venturing to many lands, she was not surprised to hear that there had been visitors, though it sounded like a lot more than the Basin might actually want were daring to explore the icy northern realm.

"Noted," she said with a smile, before continuing: "you'd be welcome to the Edge at any time, though I recommend waiting at the gate for someone to accompany you." She spoke the last words with a playful wink, before adding: "I'm sure I'd be able to hear Raven from anywhere though, and would be happy to show you around!"

Dramyrth cawed again, intentionally laxing in this attempt to sound more draconic, pleased at the peace his beloved bonded was feeling, though still concerned for the strangeness of her emotions after the curious event of before. They were nearing the entrance now, and he darted out ahead to scout the area, and ensure no more cheetahs made of fire were gallivanting about. Safe, was all he offered as the mare breached the entrance and stood, her sweaty hide prickling at the breeze that existed however softly (it was more than the non-existent one in the caves below). Amaris breathed the air, pleased to see that most had departed the arena, which meant that most at last, had not suffered wounds too deep to manage.

With a smile that spoke of farewells and goodbyes, she turned to the ravenmare and her feathered compatriot, nodding her tiara so that her chin touched her chest (gently, given the fresh wounds), stretching her curved nape around in a gesture of respect and acknowledgement - it was an ancient act, one not many reciprocated or even really understood, but it was also a habit for the dragonmare to do so to those whose company she enjoyed or wished to convey some semblance of deference to. "Until next we meet, Weaver - it has been, interesting, and not altogether unpleasant."


@Weaver
Thought this might be a good place to wrap it up? C:
Amaris
drákos istoría
Dagwanoenyent Stock | whimzi
on deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~


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