the Rift


[OPEN] goodbye to a world

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
#1
into the sea, you and me
all these years, and no one heard
i love you, let's go


Sia does what she thinks is best as a mother, trying with the last bits of her soul and strength giving out on her. Nothing about her hates anything that has led to this. In reality, Sia, not Sikeax who is steadily dying out with this world, shaking in the fear of motherhood gone wrong, is glad that all of this has happened. Volterra and her have seemingly built and mended a wonderful relationship between the two of them, her recovery proving itself to be on the way if she could just have a little bit of time, left to the rest and pray in the Throat's temple till her child came into the world and gave her something more real to do.
That would've never happened, Sikeax would've known, but she let her walls drop depsite Hobgoblin's stern advice to not to, and now the world is ending.
Tears glimmer in the light of false stars, the room actually feeling darker now that any light in the world above them is gone. Her mind can't figure out if they're from the labour contractions or her broken heart.
Hobgoblin assures Seoul that it's her heart without a doubt, because his own aches with a fury that he doesn't want while Seoul can only whine away her thin agony. Maybe it's only worse for him because he's known her so long, raised every single child she's ever had with her, been lifted to the rank of Sultana alongside her(although he definitely abused it while they had it), and ultimately ran from the only thing she's felt like she's known by her side, the last thing she truly had left to her that seemed to care for her.
For him, the situation wasn't something he could imagine going through, for Sikeax is the only thing Hobgoblin cares to know and will ever know. He'd rather die than lose her, and if she was to die or leave this place, then she could rest assured that he'd be there with her.
A whine that fast turns into a groan that nearly becomes a wail pours of her like a ghost's pitiful attempt to trying to exist. It suits her, sweat-covered and burned out, curled up in some awful position against the cold stone and damp moss decorating the floor. Seoul abandons them in this act, hidden in a perch far above their heads and only occasionally emerging to see any change of events before darting back in, chest undoubtably heavy and discomfort ridiculing her.
Her effort manages pay off despite the fact that it's slowly dying, her lids so heavy and the room thick with her agony. I'll spare you the facts on the true extensiveness of the labour because she is somewhat gone, focused so heavily on the pain and the worrying swallowing her up as of how she's going to raise her child when this world will leave her nothing to do it, seemingly abandoning them.
There's even a string of doubt that they'll lose everything but each other in this story, but when her child comes to go, well, Sia will somehow find a way to power on.
For now, she's left to motherhood, Hobgoblin sending her a small gift of happiness as he gets to declare that Sikeax's dissociation through her birth has left her with two children to fret over, but she doesn't respond in the way that he expects her to, his mind centered on believing that she'll find a touch of joy and reach out to clean and nurture her children, showering them in love as she'd done with Bella and Zhu.
Instead, what comes out of it is only panicked sobbing and a whirlwind of tears, Seoul's small head poking out of her hiding place to admire the children, sending down compliments only in native tongue. They go unnoticed over Sia's weeping, tears dripping against the cold floor as she looks at both of them, no names coming up in her head, no desperate need to love and nurture, only the fear of what to do next.

OOC: I didn't proofread or care to do much the HOS NEEDED O U T
Hobgoblin is in his serval form i think??? first person to come in and acknowledge him is welcome to pick it idc


lunarblues!

@Volterra @Phobos


you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed


Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#2


THROW THE BAIT, CATCH THE SHARK, BLEED THE WATER RED
FIFTY WORDS FOR MURDER AND I'M EVERY ONE OF THEM

So much has changed recently. He's lost his home, his crown, leaving him roaming and alone like he has been cast back to the furthest depths of his outcast life. His pride is a wounded monster, his rage a palpable weight in his chest as he contemplates all the ways he wants to destroy Kaos in a meaningless act of revenge. One thing he hasn't lost, though, is his desire to be involved in the lives of every child that comes from his seed - and now he is no longer a king, he has little else better to do than to track Sikeax as her sides swell fit to bursting.

The time is upon them, and Volterra lunges across the land like an onyx ghost. His dragons trail him; Vadir is more subdued than usual thanks to the sudden realisation that she is no longer bonded to a Sultan, so she even deigns to join her black bonded and her red brother in approaching a mare that she really, really doesn't like. Vérzés rides high on his bonded's withers, his horned head poking around the stallion's neck so as to catch side of Sikeax as soon as possible.

This isn't like last time. The similarities are there - Volterra in a very dark time of his life, a roving outcast with no responsibilities - but the scenario is very different. This time, instead of having the knowledge of Zhu thrust upon him, he embraces the birth of his newest child with gusto. This time, his son - or daughter - will not be a stranger to him, because he plans to be there every step of the way. He hangs back during the process itself, knowing that mares need space during this most painful of procedures, but when the foals - plural - slap onto the ground in a tangle of legs and fur, he's over to them in an instant.

A quick assessment tells him that it's a colt and a filly, and he beams proudly down at them. The smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, though, because it's hard not to worry about what sort of world they've brought these foals into. A world where their sire is just a pauper, not a king; a world where the Gods themselves fall at the feet of a foul heathen. "Are you alright?" he rumbles to Sikeax, his voice as gentle as he can make it as he glances between her and the foals.


[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Phobos Posts: 2
Outcast
Colt :: Unicorn :: 16.3hh :: baby
Kyros :: White Ethiopian Lion :: None dark
#3
and i'm gonna keep it one-hunda,
biting down, 'bout to rip my tongue off
He is born in a mess of limbs, entangled with a womb mate who he has grown to fit beside, two pieces of a fragile puzzle - he is only moments old and he knows already that they will never be so disgustingly close ever again with their legs a knot of dainty limbs, bodies pressed together in such a small, confined world. They are free now, spilling out onto rough, cold earth, so vastly different from the warm pool of life they had lived before now, safe from the nips of brisk cold and echoes of faint sounds. They are no longer one, uniform existence but two separate wholes, two children living and breathing, silent and still as the world retracts from their welcome. It is godless and dark, the heavens are crumbling and it is they who are the harbingers of such, the children riding on the heels of absolute chaos. And it becomes I, no longer He, no longer They, but Me.

I am born to a woman weeping, a weak woman with her tears spilling out over the ground as her tired body pushes two children from her womb, a mess of wet body fluids and membranes. I am born beside my sister, quiet and resolute, eyes shut and sides rising as the darkness, the emptiness, extends a hand. I am watching her cry, watching those blue eyes brim with tears full of uncertainty, full of hopelessness and despair. My head has risen now, cheek cold from being pressed against the stone, splotched with dust and debris that cling to the fluids of my mother. I am retracting, observing over interacting, lips kept shut as I watch her, and I am observed - a feline witnesses all that happens, looking over my sibling and I in stillness, as though loyal to my mother and only her, not the children she just bore, but her, and even still, Himself.

With inquisitive blue eyes focusing on the animal before me, I almost fail to notice the presence of another, a giant stands before us with a smile spreading across his massive features - I am suddenly reaching out, spreading shadowed hands over the room around us, unintentional, a reaction to being caught off guard, spontaneous and urgent as the fear grips the space with an iron fist. It remains over us, in the air like a thick, choking smoke as it envelopes each individual in the room. I am only staring, eyes laid down over the hulking body of the man, wondering why he smiles the way he does as he looks down at us, as though he is adoring us - I glance to my sister, who remains still, and then with unsteady, gradual breaths, I let out a violent huff.

Uneasy, newborn limbs reach out from the space occupied mostly by my sister, stretching to full length, admiring the newfound freedom granted by escaping the emotional pit dwelling within the weeping woman. There are unspoken questions that will go unanswered, such as why she cries, or who this man is - but most important, who am I? Who will I be? What is there for me out in the world, where the gods have stepped down from the heavens to fight off an evil that I have yet to witness, where there is no order, no structure, no four strong pillars to keep the world balanced - only Chaos.  

the little squirt is here and using his magic already!!!


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