the Rift


[OPEN] Fly - flying fox, fly

Stellaluna Posts: 15
World's Edge Mare atk: 3.5 | def: 6.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 6hh :: 2 HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Riven
#1
Stellaluna...
Two hours pass like a blur. The little bat quickly grows tired, early in their journey, for she has played the whole night through and the distance travelled during those safe hours of dark, has already been great. So is she nocturnal too, and the growing day and ultraviolet light it brings, burns her soft blue eyes; lashes agitate jadedly, and she is reluctant to go on. The giantess though, is patient, considerate and they pause in a dank, dingy forest to rest; the pup nestles amid the boughs of yet another old oak as it bends and sways against the coursing wind, rocking and lulling her to sleep. She stirs again at evening, when the bleach white streamers trailing across blue, turn dim, dull and grey, as night's first kiss bruises the soft relic light of day; and before anything else, she is excited

Curious blue eyes plunge between the leafy arms of her host and the ancient timber’s gnarled knuckles loosen their vigilant grip; presently, the bat swings lower, descending his body with the reckless skill of youth, trusting and heedless, even as clawless toes slide and slip along the way. He will catch her, she knows, but he needn’t. The nimble-footed climber with the twisted knees, arrives upon the lowest of his limbs and from there she can see the dark image of Lyanna the pegasus, locked lightly between worlds; though she slumbers, those feminine lines etched across her long, chiselled face flinch and flicker, the lids sit weakly pressed together and the child thinks that soon she’ll wake.

Soon…

The breath of mother-night draws close and the drum of an invigorated heart resonates in her ears; what wonders lie out there, she muses restively, eagerly, and between the silent thrust of wings she swoops away through the strangely flavoured air. Into the next tree she alights, smaller-sized wood she is unfamiliar with - though he welcomes her, tossing heartily the great mass of green at his head. The bat greets him warmly with a press of her nose, but her eyes survey the area beneath; the blackening brook who's pretty babble beckons her down. The child is not hasty, at all - not with the pack still stalking behind. Only when the dark has thickened enough to shroud her, does she drop down to drink.
"Turn on the dark,
I'm afraid of the light!"

Open to anyone
@Lyanna | you are welcome to join, but its not necasary :)  Stella won't go far enough to interrupt their journey to WE. I can take out my cheeky PP too if you prefer <3
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
I like to be tagged :)
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)

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 child of stone had flown east, his journey aimed for the threshold, though a detour was made after his wings had started to tire under the weight of the creature that now accompanied him. The baby wolverine, seated in the soft, cushion-like saddle between the hobbit's wings had already grown greatly fond of flying since his hatching a number of days ago. Gifted with the trusty name of Brandybuck, the wolverine was quickly becoming attached to the hobbit - just as Pip was to him.

Finding a gap in the canopy had proved a hard task, but it was landing past the confines of the forest's ceiling all with a creature astride his back was something the half0sized pegasus was unaccustomed to. Touching down with both from feet, Pippin allowed himself down into the glade with a great huff of exhaustion, his wings buckling and steadying as he trotted around the circumference of the clearing, winding down from the speed of his descent.
Night was a time that the halfling would usually be sleeping, though not on a night such as this; beautiful and clear. Perhaps the last for a long time with the changing of seasons having just taken place.
Allowing Brandybuck to tread carefully down his wing, landing in the mossy cover of an oak, Pippin hardly noticed the other near-by. So it was as the hobbit himself made a turn for the glittering stream that he shed his leg guards, using his teeth to knaw open the clasps and buckles, leaving his slingshot, knife, and both leg guards in a neat pile by the stream before he went to enter for a which wash; certainly not noticing the smaller creature upstream from where he stood.
Dipping his wings in first, the hobbit soon progressed to washing each sand-stained feather, humming a tune so bright it lofted over every tree in the glen. Pippigrin turned, eyes gingerly fluttered closed as he gently rubbed his water lathered wing tips over his chest in an effort to scrub his skin, though, upon opening was met with the view of a stranger.
"HAY!" The halfling chortled "Are you watching me in the bath!?" He accused, shielding his loins with his wings.

@Stellaluna


art: © x coding: © x

Stellaluna Posts: 15
World's Edge Mare atk: 3.5 | def: 6.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 6hh :: 2 HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Riven
#3
Stellaluna...
The water is cold like a leaf long pillowed on stone, but it slides down the hot length of her throat easily; it is sweet, as though born from the belly of the very land she kneels upon, or maybe the soft-flowing stream carries down snow thaw from the mountains (they’d stood sharply in the backdrop of the threshold like a snarling dog’s jaw) - both are theories she entertains, there in the quiet of the moment.

Small ears waver alternately, absorbing the dim chorus of this new night-world. Mr Cricket’s lonely chirp strikes out into the darkness, but no answer follows, for the air grows cooler by the hour and his kin already sleep below ground (it is warmer there); a skitter of tiny paws in the leaf litter behind her, betray the plight of Mrs Mouse who returns to her nest with tightly packed cheeks - the bat turns curiously to see her upon crooked elbows, and they lock eyes for only a split-second before she melts away, back into the thicket.

Inhaling deeply, she samples the musty, moist flavour of the forest. The damp surface of the rocks which border this stream, she notes (because she can see, with gaping, night-conscious eyes), is covered in moss and it is soft when her velvet nose dips to touch. The lichen she knows, is rough and without any strong scent, but the tang is like no other - presently, the pup’s lips peel backwards so that blunt white teeth might chip a morsel free.

As she does, there is a sound across stream that couldn't possibly be the tiny toes of a mouse; a wing kisses the air and the sound is familiar, then hooves touch down and she knows that they come. One glance searches the shadows to her rear, but she presumes the giantess is still resting soundly. She crouches low upon knee and hock beside the gurgle of water, and wraps herself in jet-black membrane so that she might become more invisible. There is movement beyond, another strides down through a glade and her curious mind is enthralled to learn that he is small in stature - with wings.

The nuts that had gathered about her to bath and splash, disperse suddenly, shyly, though their marsupial counterparts linger bravely in place (should there arise reason to flee, they will do so swiftly). The Platypus Twins rest their queer bills above water, beady black eyes watching, waiting, and when the stranger moves to bathe, they plop beneath to paddle closer. The bat sits motionlessly, with baited breath.

He undresses, a spectacle in itself that he should be clad in anything besides hair, and the pretty melody which rings through the dingy silence only serves to feed her interest - only has she ever listened to Ma’s soothing lullaby. So engrossed does she become in his manner and the bath he begins, that she forgets to hold snugly her wings about her, and they loosen soon after to rest upon the bank.

“HAY!”

The bat took flight instantly - hooked thumbs seizing hold of the prickly, flimsy limb of an unsuspecting spruce nearby; the tree’s spindly top bent low beneath her weight as she climbed awkwardly aboard, it had not the strength of the old oaks previously. Glowing eyes return to the small male who stood now strangely, caught between fear and intrigue, and there, balanced as daintily as a crow on a dandelion, she anticipates his next move.  
"Turn on the dark,
I'm afraid of the light!"

:)  Just so you know, the aussie natives and gumnut babies she sees are imaginary!
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
I like to be tagged :)
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)

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
#4



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


The feathers only drew closer over his legs, shielding each gap and the sacred flesh behind while the Hobbit within gazed wide eyed and dumbstruck as the creature made of fuzz, skin and claw reached her way to an overhanging branch. The tiny wolverine cub toddled out from the underbrush to prod the shield of feathers his friend had created, wishing to clamber back into the warmth his down feather nest had to offer, but now was certainly not the time. Not while the halfling was caught int his ghastly state of undress with what appeared to be a lady watching.

Bewildered for more reasons than one, the halfling stayed frozen a little while longer in the creek bed, the stifle-height water occasionally pricking his stomach as he heaved his breaths in and out. What on earth was that thing who glinted and gleamed back? It's eyes were beautiful, it's shape like most under-underhill hobbits, but wings like that of a bat. How extraordinary.
"Hallo" the warrior soon mumbled, tracing forwards across the large creek stones. "I'm Pippigrin" he spoke next, wondering if she was of his kind of another hobbity breed.

"Are you watching me in the noodie?" He would press again, turning his nose on an angle yet still watching her with narrowed eyes. Surely there were better stallions to watch in the bath, Volterra for one would be a most spectacular display of hair flicking and wave crashing, rippling muscles and bending over. He found himself tracing his gaze once again over her wings and their finger-like form, soon finding their way to her bright and starry eyes. He wished to compliment them, the words on the tip of his tongue, though no matter how many times he rehearsed it in his head he couldn't help but feel it was a bit too... creepy? Instead, he settled for something much less romantic, but a compliment none the less.
"I like your wings" He whispered, reaching up with the tip of his own feathered pennon in an attempt to touch it, forgetting completely about the shield of privacy he had built with that one fuzzy wing.  

@Stellaluna


art: © x coding: © x


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture