| Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.0 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 14.1 :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Oatmeal :: Two-toed Sloth :: None
Veer |
EZITAL
This far north, the brief warmth of Tallsun had already begun to turn like spoiled fruit. It was barely mid afternoon, and already Ezital's breath painted the air white with each breath. He wasn't even certain that the feelings of antipathy towards the weather were his own, or if they originated from the unruly mop of fur sprawled over his withers and a death grip on his mane.
Oatmeal was, thankfully, quiet. The sloth was dozing lightly against Ezital's neck, and the bond between them was radiating contentedness. Of course, this was only after hours of walking and pacing the length of the Basin and murmuring soothing nonsense to the little beast. He had quite the set of lungs on him, and he seemed to squeak and cry at the slightest provocation. The latest cause of his fractiousness seemed to be the recent cold snap. The little snout snuffled against his crest and he lifted his knees a little higher to sway the sloth back to sleep.
The past few days had blurred into a certain surreal jumble. He couldn't believe the mess fate had dumped on him. It had to be punishment for some unspeakable crime he'd committed, because no one in their right mind would let him raise a baby. He clearly wasn't qualified for this. It had taken ages of trial and error to even figure out what Oatmeal would even eat. Even then, he wasn't entirely convinced he hadn't just been saddled with the fussiest, pickiest creature ever.
It was the most bizarre thing to have someone else's thoughts and emotions invading his own mind and staining his perceptions. It was like an unwanted, petty color commentary expressed entirely though squeaking and disgruntled poking.
Oatmeal's toes wound more securely into his mane and he dragged himself upward until he was completely submerged in a curtain of dark hair. Ezital glanced back at him to find two beady little eyes peeking out at him, accompanied by a small peep that sounded almost apologetic. They stared at one another for a long moment, before Ezital sighed and groused to himself. He drew his knees higher to his chest and continued on as a wave of unfiltered delight and joy spilled into Ezital's mind.
talk
@Erebos
![[Image: veerpixel2_by_abbie1234_d9s5c3u_by_veerd...9s893u.png]](http://t07.deviantart.net/V8lsIAQR8eL_TzjoN44uHsDlyuE=/fit-in/150x150/filters:no_upscale():origin()/pre14/5b3b/th/pre/f/2016/049/2/0/veerpixel2_by_abbie1234_d9s5c3u_by_veerdesigns-d9s893u.png)
Please tag Ezital in all replies.
| Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE |
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Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
& Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch
Heather |
 Take just what I came for |
He’d been born to the wind, to the glaciers, to the summits, to the valleys, and when the chill pressed into the air it only fueled his bones, his limbs, and his muscles into action. The prince was an otherworldly menace on the fringes of the shadows, the twist of moonlight, the warm, infernal reaches of the sun, poised to take flight without wings, crossing over boundaries and flickering past the stars, a notion, a motion, a capricious edge of savagery and might. He asked his frame for more and it responded in kind, honed, coiled, springs of elastic movement fueled his frame, and he was a blistering figure dashing across the valley, strides reaching forward, forward, and forward, embracing the cold, the splendor, the decadence of one more rapacious day. When this wasn’t enough, he lingered along the borders, beneath the decaying Sentinels, wished them the same hellos and hallelujahs since his father had passed, then traced the outer walls, sketched the icy foundations, before lingering back into their own mountainous threshold. Orsino and Enyo watched the entire production from their spot on the lake’s embankment, the first yawning, stretching out across stones, and the other witnessing and spying intently, feline eyes casting a lingering look on their bonded.
An outline stuck against the horizon nearby, and the prince followed the unfamiliar shadow (a threat? An omen?) until it became less hazy, more apparent, a stranger from the midst (some companion tucked into tassels and mane). While the warrior’s appearance might have pulsed and pervaded a resolute, persevering nature; all fortitude and strength, honed deep into his marrow because some days, some hours, some moments he had nothing else to cling to, this newcomer’s was like a mask. Erebos appreciated the ivory pretenses and sentiments, for he knew what it was like to forge a masquerade, a lie, a specious instance – and pondered over the notion of kindred spirits, brethren marching to the same tune. “Hello!” He gestured and bellowed from yards away, amiable and friendly, Enyo making her way over, Orsino hissing and sneering in his sleep, emboldened by the reality of one more patriot he didn’t know. When he grew closer, he bobbed his head in greeting, a faithful art of respect his mother had instilled within him, before venturing into more exuberant words and charismatic introductions, easygoing, simplistic convictions sprung from a curious mind. “I’m Erebos. Who are you?”
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image credits
@Ezital
| Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.0 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 14.1 :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Oatmeal :: Two-toed Sloth :: None
Veer |
EZITAL
Ezital had seen some strange things in Helovia, and he liked to think by now he was immune to most of it. Purple streaked horses, golden forest hermits, and that one pale mare whose mane grew weeds like a chia pet. However, he wasn't prepared for the sight of a hulking midnight beast with two little pets in tow, like an eccentric cat lady.
Perhaps that was a little hypocritical, because his own little leach was clinging to the side of his neck. The bond between them was fluttering with uncertainty and nervousness, even as Ezital sent soothing nonsense and images of the stranger in a ratty bathrobe and a herd of clingy housecats. Clearly, Oatmeal's sense of humor would need some work.
Recalling the way Tiamat had greeted him, and obviously being an authority on the matter as a Lady, he stepped forward until his muzzle would nearly brush the other stallion's if he allowed it. He only had to strain upwards a little to reach, so he could only assume he'd grown taller recently. "What's up? I'm Ezital, and this bit of fuzz is Oatmeal. We're new here."
He shifted slightly, drawing the sloth away from the stranger and keeping the slender bulk of his body between them. "Hold up, did you say Erebos? Tiamat told me to find you, I'm your new warrior!" He struck a pose, sure to impress the stallion, with tail flung out like a flag and knee drawn to his chest. It wasn't lost on him that he needed to make a good impression here, if this guy was essentially going to be his boss.
"So…" he said, drawing out the word with a little flourish. "What's first? Someone need a little shakedown? Patrol the merciless tundra? Scale some godforsaken mountain?"
He grinned brightly up at Erebos, quivering with eagerness that finally seemed to bleed over into Oatmeal. The little sloth gave a curious peep and poked his face out to look at the stallion.
@Erebos
talk
Please tag Ezital in all replies.
| 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 |
Take just what I came for |
He hadn’t expected many things to unravel in that moment – for the beast’s maw to stretch towards his own, for the announcement of a new warrior, for the bright ambience or pose striking, and for a few seconds he just stared in disbelief. His eyes widened a fraction or two, losing their steely, ferocious quality, fading right into the boyish aspirations and follies of youth, chuckling softly before extending his muzzle towards the other stag’s. He didn’t know why the sanction struck him as funny – perhaps from fatigue, from agony, from torment, his mind, his body, his frame eager to rid itself of brooding monstrosities and soulless thoughts to simply unravel, unfurl, for a slight occasion. “A pleasure, Ezital and Oatmeal,” he said at first, and it wasn’t a lie, because he was thoroughly amused, his smile rising into reality, into a sculpted art instead of forced pretenses and masquerading details. Even Ezital's companion was entertaining, all toes, claws, and fur, and Enyo started to lean toward it too, attempting a close inspection with her beak, while the prince, the General, attempted to forge through the rest of the conversation – pleased that there was one more to add to his warrior flock (even if he were the worst kind of shepherd to have; brutal and acrimonious, twisted and turned for his benefit, for the ways of the cold-blooded valley to become something again). “I’m glad to hear another has joined our ranks! Do you have any experience as a soldier?” Some had been carved right out of the hills as swords and daggers (Wessex, for instance, always reminded him instantly of a tank, clearly meant for the battlefield, for domination, for assault and sieges), fledgling hours and days spent mustering arms instead of alms. The eagerness, the fervency, radiating off of the other stallion was enough to hasten a bout of glory, a searing pledge of triumph, because it seemed he wouldn’t have to spend his days hounding this one (and he’d been lucky regardless, for all of his beasts seemed ambitious, determined, and dedicated). His head tilted and voice resounded again, marking off the particulars of what Ezital could accomplish. “You should familiarize yourself with the entire Basin, wall to wall, tree to tree. We often patrol the borders and open lands, especially recently, in regards to Kaos.” He didn’t know what the newcomer understood or comprehended about the malformed God corrupting the world outside, but if he yearned to hear the story, the General wouldn’t mind retelling it. “You could spar some of your fellow warriors.” Then, if possible, his grin grew broader, as if prompting the latter, emboldening, emblazoning, and fueling the foretold outcome.
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image credits
@Ezital
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