the Rift


[OPEN] dusk encroaches in

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1
R I K Y N   &   D U I R

The hour is late by the time I return from the cave of the Haruspex; I’d, of course, wanted to be accommodating, and answer questions that were asked, and to not rush them back to the rest of their gathering.  Still, by the time we rejoin the large group at the fore of the land, the Sun is midway to fallen, and the shadows are long, but not yet excessively tall and lean, as they are in the final hours before night.  Duir, still among them, playing with Remy and admiring the small Safiri (he’s not seen a foal since the last we’d met with Virga), looks up at my approach, and blasts his loud, shrill deer-creature call to me.

Why? I ask him, answered with an emotional blast of cheer and elation as he bounds towards me, pivoting back about to prance alongside me as I make my way towards Rexanna.  Nodding farewell to Ingrid and Akumi, as well as the others from the Edge, and leaving the affairs of where they go from here up to them and the soldiers, I move to tend to my promise to Rexanna.
 
Bouncing happily with graceful leaps, Duir returns to Marembo, dropping his nose to breathe around his soft ears.
 
"Are you all ready?" I ask the familiar mare with a smile, my head at shoulder’s height, "his resting place is not too far.  Miss Safiri should be able to make the walk there and back, I’d think."

I look at the little one, wondering what sort of things we could set her doing once we get there.  Aside from the pile of rocks that is Uncle Deimos’ tomb, there’s jack-all out that way to do.  Duir, looking up from his games with Marembo, cheerfully intones:  me and Remy got that, don’t worry!


this is not destruction
this is your birth



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Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#2
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
The ex-Thief waited patiently with her daughter as time moved along. Stories were passed, many of which Rexanna had heard before when she lived within the towering mountains and snowy valleys. A place she still considered home, even if she didn’t live among them any longer. It would always be her home, and no one could tell her otherwise. It wasn’t fathomable for the gilded mare. It would be her home even on her deathbed, even if she didn’t step foot within the borders ever again.

Hoewver, it wasn’t long until Rikyn returned with the other Edge members and then attended his direction toward her and Safiri. “Are you all ready?” He began, mentioning that Safiri would be able to make it to the tomb and back. A soft nod left Rexanna as she turned to look to the little filly with a smile. “We’ll go slow, darling.” She mentioned to the child as she stepped away from the cart that had previously been attached to her. There she stood, beaming at Rikyn for the opportunity, just as she had before with her golden hide and gilded chains, no swelling of her belly, but instead a product of it at her hip.

Marembo, as usual, was overjoyed to see Duir. As he leaped and bounded to the polecat, he shrieked in excitement with his grabby hands reaching for the softness of Duir – though not quite as soft as he had once been after birth. He was also much larger than he had anticipated, wondering if he was ever going to stop. A small chime of sounds escaped the polecats lips that almost sounded like giggles before Marembo returned to having all feet on the ground and scampering around.

Rexanna offered a small giggle at the polecat’s excitement, looking to Rikyn briefly. “Lead the way, if you will.” She offered him a gentle smile, allowing Safiri to take the lead after Rikyn if she so wished.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Safiri @Rikyn so sorry for the wait ;-;
[Image: lovelyskylark.gif?8]
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#3
R I K Y N & D U I R

Eager to be on our way, to have time enough for myself to wind down for the evening, when the time at last came, I head north, towards the path which will lead us through the shallow pine wood, to the tomb, not far beyond. Setting my pace at one which is not particularly quick, in order for Safiri to have time to walk with leisure, and even look around some, if she wanted.

As I’d promised, though, it doesn’t take long; the well travelled trail is wide and clear of branches, kept tidy by those who passed this way on their ventures to the various caverns of those who lived this way, or the Lord’s Tomb, to which we were now headed. When we pass the path down to my cave, I glance down it, wondering if I might steal a glimpse of Glacia, or Gwyn, but don’t slow my step.

Quiet at first, I don’t think to even say much, at first, too worn out from talking all day. Besides, the silence is pretty comfortable, for me, anyway, and there’s not much along the way to point out to the filly, and, if she’s at all like I was as a child, just the new sights are good enough. It’s only the adults who need more to do than see, really, having already looked at most everything enough times to be disinterested in something as casual as the scenery of an evergreen woodland. When I do finally start to speak, weary of the time to my own thoughts (and the places I avoid there) I choose a topic that is not as somber as the task which we make our way towards.

"So, a temple, huh?" I ask, glancing back with a smile, "who’s idea was that?"

Hopefully not the Moon’s; it wasn’t that much after her murder spree across Helovia, after all, and even a Goddess should, you know, take at least a few dozen years to start demanding homage from the people she had slain.

Letting that conversation fill the short time remaining between where we start talking and when the trail clears out, and the Tomb arrives before us, I gesture towards the carefully arranged rocks. The sound of the sea is faintly evident, hinting at the close proximity of the shore, which is hidden from view by trees and the mountains, and though I try to keep my feelings at bay, the peace of this place stirs my heart, as it always does, and I’m drawn ever closer to the mourning shadows inside me that I strive to avoid.

"There it is," I say softly, clearing my throat before I more audibly add, "I can go if you would like some time alone."



this is not destruction
this is your birth



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@Rexanna @Safiri

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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#4
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
He was quiet at first, which Rexanna didn’t mind too much about. It was a solemn thing to do, to take somebody to a grave of all things. So she understood the awkwardness, instead of being upset by it. Nobody really wanted to talk about death, let alone someone with such power and importance – someone that had changed and touched so many in their lives. She was thankful, too, however that Rikyn questioned her on the temple. A small chuckle escaped her lips as she continued to walk with Safiri. “You know, I honestly have no idea.” She admitted, glancing over at the boy – now king – with the faintest hint of a laugh resembled on her lips.

I hear it might hang over the edge. Sounds a bit risky to me if I’m honest.” She added in. However, it wasn’t much longer of a trek before they officially arrived at the site. The rocks were arranged in a meticulous way, and suddenly Rexanna wondered if Erebos had been tending to them to make sure they were always properly placed. Sadness filled her heart as she looked upon it, motioning to her daughter to hang back while Marembo chose to stay with her. Then, Rikyn spoke and she nodded quietly. “I would like that… if you don’t mind.” Her voice had now dropped, quiet and melancholy as she glanced back at the new Lord of the Basin.

Then after a few moments, she stepped closer, closing the gap between her and the final resting place of the Reaper. The environment was very serene, peaceful, and beautiful. She lowered her head to the grave, closing her eyes as if she could imagine the stone-cold stare of the Reaper, as though he was beside her as before – with his quiet stance and the extremely rare hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye.” She finally began, feeling the tears burn behind her dark eyelids. “I’m sorry I left and didn’t return to see you again. I don’t have any excuses for it, being cooped up in a cave in the Edge.” She sighed to that, lifting her head slightly. “I think you’d be very happy to see how Kiada’s turned out. When you crowned her as the winner of the recruiting contest, she was elated. She took so much pride in that, in your praise.” And then the words caught in her throat, unable to actually articulate anything else as she tried to regulate her breath and keep her tears at bay.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn and once he leaves @Erebos can show? <3 :D
[Image: lovelyskylark.gif?8]
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#5

Perhaps he was the true ghost of the Basin, living, but barely, existing in a haunting, intangible sphere around the stones and charms, biding his time until he left the earth too. He was so removed, so misshapen, so wrapped and shackled in discord, in agony, in grief, that his days were tied to duty and then nothingness, staring into the void, hoping to see the vision of his father around the edge of his eyes. But there’d be nothing, and he’d have to be content with dreams or nightmares, screaming for him to come back, come back in his sleep, before Enyo woke him up or Orsino invaded his thoughts. He chiseled his way down into exhaustion most evenings, patrolling until there were no lines he’d yet to cross, coasting on the lake’s surface until the sun fell behind the mountains, wishing, hoping, and praying for a way to turn back the hands of time – ignoring the Sun God’s request over and over, because he simply couldn’t fathom how to press forward. He stuck to rituals and habits, swallowing his grief into silence, weaving all the airs of his mischief down into the nefarious bits of his soul, so when someone glanced at him all they’d see was this useless husk, a broken shell, a battered vessel – streamlined into muscle and skirmishes because that’s all he was good for now. The prince yearned for more, but had yet to find the way to sail past his anguish the ways others had – couldn’t adjust into colder sentiments like Rikyn, couldn’t press on or disappear like Hotaru and Thranduil, couldn’t sink down into the elements – some days only wishing he could bury himself into the soil, into the sand, into the snow, until someone found him and told him what to do or where to go. Other moments he merely settled into his grief and wept, curled and coiled in the back of his cave where no one could see his follies, his weaknesses, his crumbling, twisted soul, splintered, fractured, and torn apart. Damned and damned and damned again, then forced to pretend that naught was the matter and everything was fine, and the pretenses were ripping, flickering apart, warped at the seams.
 
He wandered then too, much like he always did, down along the throngs of the lake’s banks, then pressing on, on, and on, Enyo lowering her head and Orsino tall and proud; until he reached the trail towards the Reaper’s tomb. The General ceased all motion and movement, however, when he noticed another standing there, and two more figures close by, drifting and placed in shadow – and a part of him seized, clenched his jaw, forced the selfishness rattling his bones to be buried amidst the other rubble and devastation. This was what he’d wanted: for his father to be remembered, not scalded away, not sent into oblivion, not tattered by scavengers. He moved closer then, silent, a chiseled guardian, and paused only momentarily when he saw shown beneath the flickering raindrop and glowing charms: Rexanna. A portion of the youth wanted to be ridiculously bitter and hostile, angry at her for being another one to leave, another being who fled the world for their own asinine desires, leaving the Reaper to continue his efforts till he faded away. But it wasn’t her fault the mighty King had perished, had fallen, and there was no one to truly blame – time had taken his father away and left him with nothing in return. It was cruel and wretched, and worse still to catch the bits and pieces of her speech, the apologies driven towards the rocks, and he had to look away, down past the pathway, into the desolate, forlorn alleys, wondering when the world would swallow him whole. The General tried to swallow down his resentment, his hostility, his rage (even when it was all he had left, beyond the scope of his misery, wrath coiled in his marrow), and maneuvered a ways up the trail, so she could hear him when he spoke. “He was disappointed when you left,” he stated, clear and fluid, face unreadable, aiming daggers at multiple hearts; harpooning it directly into his too, exasperated with himself because at least she’d bothered to come when the rest of those who’d run away did naught (and wasn’t that always the way – they followed the same damned pattern, day after day, night after night, wasting, decaying, still ignorant and useless). Was it worth it?, he wanted to ask her, but couldn’t, couldn’t spill the harsh veracity from his mouth, his tongue, tempted to just crumple right then and there. “But thank you for coming now,” was all he managed to muster thereafter, the steel gaze flickering apart.

Erebos
clever got me this far - - then tricky got me in

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@Rexanna

Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#6
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
She didn’t know when the Prince of Darkness arrived. Her skills which were once so great in making sure she knew exactly what was happening around her had dissipated, long gone for the life of becoming a mother to a child with specific needs. When he spoke, her hide twitched with the surprise, but she remembered the man. As she looked up to see him, blinking away her tears to the best of her ability, his face masked and hidden beyond what she could only imagine to be such a horrible nightmare. “I was too.” She admitted quietly to him after a while.

And then, then Erebos thanked her. She tried to search his face, to see what kind of emotions were unraveled beneath, but came up empty. A small frown began to crease the corners of her pale lips as she shook her head. “I came as soon as I heard.” She added in briskly before lifting her head up a bit taller, watching the stallion before her with sad, icy eyes. “You resemble him so much, you do know that right?” Her head cocked slightly, figuring it probably wasn’t the best thing to mention, but it was the only thing she could think of.

He was stoic, quiet, always surveying his home – his kingdom – hidden away, even sneaking up on you when you least expected it.” She paused, the corner of her lips twitching as a smile tried to break through – yet her eyes remained glassy, sad, tired. “You’ve done well accomplishing his ways.” Rexanna looked away from him then, to look back down at the grave.

I’m so sorry you had to lose him, Erebos.” She finally mustered to say.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Erebos
[Image: lovelyskylark.gif?8]
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#7
R I K Y N & D U I R

She shares what she knows with me about the temple, which isn’t much. Wondering just who I could badger to get more information about it, I look over at her with a face that reads a lot of what I think about precariously dangling a building off the side of a precipice that was called the World’s flipping Edge. She just says it, of course, but it’s with her usual grace and whimsy, rather than what I have come to understand is my over all petulant and undiscerning reaction to anything I find stupid, foolish, or bothersome.

"Well, she did kill a bunch of people not so long ago," I say, looking over with a grin and a chuckle, "sounds like she’s getting crafty. Get ‘em all in one building, drop it into the sea…"

Nodding when Rexanna says she would like me to leave, as I’d expected, I take my departure no sooner than we’d arrived. Slipping into the trees, Duir nudging his Marembo farewell before following after me, I mentally reach out to my companion as the shadows wreath us.

Stay here, and tell me when she is ready to leave, I tell him, moving further along the trail after he pauses, asking if he can go back to play with Marembo, if that is so. No. Stay hidden.

Nodding slowly, allowing his magic to ebb over his figure, the buck returns to the tree-line, clandestine and silent as shadow, to do as he is told, though he is unsure why he is not allowed to enjoy the company of his not often here friend. But, when Rexanna begins to speak, her tears slipping down her cheeks, suddenly the cerndyr understands: this was not a place or time for play, even more resolutely set in stone by the cool arrival of the stoic General…


[ OOC: Rikyn out; he is not far off from Duir grazing - plenty far away to give you guys privacy. <3 Duir is waiting to let Rikyn know when Rex heads out. ]

this is not destruction
this is your birth



image credits

@Rexanna @Erebos

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#8

The anger, the wrath, lay unsettled across his tongue, vicious and savage, twisting, intending to lance and pierce over the shade of the tomb, because he was so damn frustrated with the way life had turned out – knew it wasn’t her responsibility, understood the blame couldn’t rest with her, but it still sizzled and seethed within him. Then why did you? - he wanted to ask, he wanted to shout, anything to mask the hurt and grief and anguish; for the boy had always been taught about loyalty, had watched his father wear away and whittle apart when his mother disappeared, when his sister followed, when the world stared truly caving in on all around him, and he stayed, caught in between, blistered, scorched, decimated to this infernal rubble of the beast he used to be. It didn’t cross into the air though, too blunt, too harsh, too cruel, she didn’t deserve it, and all he wanted to do was hang his head and leave – he shouldn’t have come, he should have wandered further out into the plains and lost himself amidst the mountains, where no one would bother to find him until his next responsibility descended upon his shoulders. The prince was nearly devoured by his own void, the desolation and forlorn grasps coiling over him, dragging over his throat like a noose, listening but rebelling all at the same time, yearning to shake his head at her statements, at things that hurt and singed and bruised and flayed him apart. You resemble him so much, she added, and he almost loosened a bitter laugh from his throat, because he didn’t, he didn’t - had been touched by his mother’s graces and watery hues, hadn’t always been so stoic, so quiet, so reserved, hadn’t meant to become his shadow, hadn’t meant to be anything other than a little scion searching for glory and triumph. But the boy had fallen to his knees too many times in front of his father’s altar now, had wept and prayed and wished for things he could never possibly have again, and nothing seemed to matter. His hatred spiraled out of control most days. His vengeance, his promises, his oaths had seemed to flicker, fade, and die away – the only persistence he’d entangled himself within was duties and tasks to the herd, a vacant shell, a haunted entity, the phantom of what he used to be. “He was so much more than that,” he started, a scorching sensation of malice simmering across his mouth, irritated because the Reaper shouldn’t have been fashioned into mere reticence and silence – and she should’ve known, she should’ve understood, just what the beast had stood for. Was that all she could remember about Deimos?
 
“I’ll never be as great,” the prince whispered, muttered, murmured, ground against his wares, lowering his crown because all that seemed to flow from his mouth was spite and suffering – and that hadn’t been her intention, but it pulsed and pervaded through his soul. He’d never intended to be like his sire in all those potent, powerful ways – he’d admired him, he’d cherished him, he’d loved him, but his path was littered with stones and rubble and ruin now, couldn’t see past the trees, the forest, the doom, the devastation, forgetting what Weaver had told him (believe it), drowning himself in the wake of kings and fathers who’d allowed their children to thrive without encasing them in the walls of what could be and what ifs. Erebos knew better though, comprehended his limitations, had become too haunted, too deluded, too strangled by the set of his own suffering and agony to believe in potential, to puff out his chest and show everyone what he was made of. Her last sorry fell into silence, and he didn’t have anything else to say; he was sorry too, he was pathetic, he was empty, he was useless and vanquished, defeated by heartbreak. 


Erebos
clever got me this far - - then tricky got me in

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@Rexanna


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