| Aurora Basin Mare |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 3 |
| Angel |
06-07-2017, 11:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-07-2017, 11:52 PM by Nora.)
When suffocated embers have long been extinguished, the blackish atmosphere -filled to burst with rhinestones- is our consolation prize. A quarter-moon lends her cold light for the final leg of our journey, shedding her iridescent, blue hue over the rugged terrain. Our destination impends, within seconds I’ll push these burdened wings through that archway; into the mouth of a stern, impassible ridge. A fortification that juts into heaven like wolf teeth; encasing the innards, acting as the sanctuary for parasites on a moist tongue…
Interludes have been frequent, but these desolate, frosty crags act ruthless. Northern gales surpass the gaunt autumn coat encasing our bodies. Successful foraging becomes scarcer; additionally, the crusted slab has barely a stump to crouch beneath for shelter. Fatigue is quick on my heels; the effects of constant travel are taking their toll.
Divine forbearance takes pity on our situation and sheds some weight. The moment we hit that forsaken bedrock, our (unexpected) traveling companion (whose chronic presence squelched any breath of privacy) mercifully struck out on his own. Since his companionship had been tolerated for Noah’s sake…my façade of remorse (indifference) only further highlights the relief which came from watching that sodden, nauseating funk of a man stride off into the vast, sterile landscape. Mini me is melancholy, seriously doubting that he’d find safe passage through the frigid, treacherous mountains. Though…rather than aid him further…she too is unsympathetic toward that stranger and his unlabeled plight.
When the eagle descends into those gloomy, overcast foothills – my creamy hollows all but cry with eagerness to disembark. Before long, these dainty toes have collided (attentively) onto that spongy turf; both soil and reeds are painted with a new husk of frost, each step summons a crunch beneath my feet. The air (though warmer compared to outside, beyond the canine-like fence) is frigid. Smog dances from trembling nostrils into the icy air. Those summertime annuals (we dined upon months ago) have died out – their stalks are placid, bent and withered. But…beneath their rot...shafts of new growth is protruding.
I can't stop quivering...despite how my hide has been thickened over the better part of a month as we'd edge closer to these northern walls. Ears overlap the near black fibers on my poll -- they rotate, following these eyes to find the extraordinary soul who’d led me halfway across the world... and back. Exhaustion burns in my joints, hunger growls menacingly; but those physical demands aren't nearly as crippling as the plea to spill the truth at his feet… Now that we are finally alone…and unburdened for security. My subconscious frowns and produces visions of his reaction from a blurting mouth, ‘you’ve waited this long; a few more minutes won’t hurt.' The anxious tightening in my chest disagrees.
OC:
@Noah
| Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3 :: 3 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Riven |
A creature who, though lacking in words had been more than overflowing in insolence, had flanked their north-winding journey for the better part of several days; it was a long, tedious slug on foot, for his ‘very broad’ shoulders, had been unfortunately devoid of blessed feather and what might have taken the travelling duo alone, one night and one day, extended into a great blur of many more. Often along the way, an unintentionally suggestive posture of her’s would trigger in his mind a visualization of that night – of the moments building towards their union – and the fire within him would rekindle and flare with ravenous ferocity; but alas the droll-natured man was on hand to quell that urge. His dove seemed similarly impressed, for while she lingered nearer to his deliberately, competitively ‘pretentious’ air, (to him) she felt all the more distant, retreating into that impenetrable labyrinth of female thought.
…And so the time spent trekking between the threshold and the tundra, was spent in relative silence; brooding, reflecting, and to a larger degree, flaunting the new edge of masculinity Nora had gifted him. There came a time however, that the other stallion grew tired of their strange-kind of company, and he’d ventured off alone through the course of one night. Noah had searched, for the sake of good manners at most, but after a morning well wasted, he soon lost motivation for the welfare of his unanticipated recruit. Beneath the cold hassle of pre-winter wind, he had taken his darling into the safety of heaven’s sanctuary. In his absence, a small slice of Nora’s sweet ambience returned, yet unavoidably spotted was the lethargy plaguing her pace and the quiet discontent there clouding the pretty colour of each eye – even her boldest side seemed subdued. It was enough to quell the rampart nag of his heated hormones.
At long last, the masked mountain pass guides them into the belly of the basin – like a mouth, swallowing them all over again – and Noah glides downward along its vast stretch. He finds the familiar grove which served as home during the first months of their stay, but instead of aiming his path that way, he curves sharply right towards that unfriendly face of cliff-side so favoured by his dove. Her hovel, the dank, uninviting hole, smiles horribly as he stills before it; legs trembling wildly, numbly, as blood slithers and slides down each length and he turns away, eyes scanning the glistening green region beyond. It is colder than he recalls, and damp skin shivers involuntarily as his core works to retain warmth; shoulders want to slump disappointedly, but they hold stiff posture stubbornly, the joints within panging as the breath of Jackfrost buffets. Not even the spray of downy insulation he has been breeding can hold back the chill.
Searching eyes find her quickly, and a warm smile beckons to her across the distance. I’m coming, he thinks, even mouths, and breaks into a vigorous trot to prevent her the need to go further. The grass crunches queerly beneath the heavy motivation of his tread, and knees bounces higher, unsettled, though his focus does not stray. "Nora..." he greets her tenderly, concern leeching from his midst to embrace and lift her. As his body curls carefully about her, nose following the swollen curve of her tiny frame, one wing lifts above her protectively and closes down into a loose, gentle hug. Though the canyon-like language barrier is shrinking all the time, he can’t help but cling to the few words which matter to them most. "Alright? Food? Rest?"
Noah I was born a warrior
I was born a warrior |
|
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
Please tag me in openers and spars
Permission for all except death
(no need to ask)
| Aurora Basin Mare |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 3 |
| Angel |
With total complacency, I yield into his mercy. Easily allowing it to encase, reassure. Cherishing the fleeting diversion of having his thick, robust flesh laying claim upon mine. The shield of tawny fringe curbs the wind from piercing. My head tilts, seeking a favored junction just elevated above his mountainous triceps. These cool, quivering whiskers brush over the memorized arch of his drizzled canvas. Delicate nostrils widen, drowning in that masculine, toxic fragrance…actively hunting for the resolve my insecurity perilously requires.
Childhood wasn’t spent at the side of a parent(s.) Our underground community required guardians to submit their offspring into a sterile environment…a nursery…run by a few, kindly ashen elders…But the age/energy of our chaperons was failing; they oversaw our lives from afar…but didn’t raise the fledgling troop. Older colts/fillies rose from our ranks…they (the gentler ones) looked after the soft foot children (those who hadn’t seen their six-month milestone.)
“Cold,” I whisper, melting into the curve of his broad, feathered shoulder with a sigh. “Yes…” easy agreement, though the mere thought of seeking physical gratification makes my stomach twist sideways. It's time... Mini me vaults, scowling disagreeably – while a tangled surge of illogical emotion pours into my expression like a tsunami. Circumstance had influenced the decision to withhold information; but no longer…interruption couldn’t be used as an excuse. ‘He might reject you,’ her blunt attempt to scare is received with a mix of fear and anguish. Our truce, partnership… the flame…resilient during ideal situations...but would it crumble beneath the weight of looming maturity?
“N-noah,” a soft petition, trembling from the undertow of a shaky exhale. Despite how his proximity offers comfort and insulation, I can’t seem to halt those violent shivers as they continue to defy me...My breast pinches sorely; the pulse is battering, overpowering. “We,” my tongue becomes like lead, rooted in place. Fibers are wooden. My forehead bears upon his solid neck, attempting to foolishly pull on his unwavering strength, “I-I…have child.” Shutters crack…the hot smog enveloping his neck becomes trapped inside me… waiting...
OC:
@Noah
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