the Rift


[PRIVATE] tempestuous

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

 

sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:



So, maybe I should have been gathering my things together, like I’d told everyone else to, but, to be honest, the sort of things I want to bring aren’t those you can carry.  I want to take the mountains, pack along the snow and stone; my heart wants to will the Sentinels to follow me out, to bid the trees to uproot themselves and come along.  The power to be able to, say, put a whole realm in a bubble and pack it somewhere (like exactly what had gotten our home into this mess) would be really nice right about now.
 
Consequences, Duir rationally replies, of course grounded in logic, while I’m off in my headspace dreaming of impossible things.  Per usual, his remark earns my rancor, my ears falling back, and gaze pinning on him, where it had been pining on the northern horizon, and the powdery snow being cast about by a swift wind.
 
"Who gives a shit about consequences?" I bitterly remark, broodingly moving away from him, towards a nearby copse of trees that I’d played in often as a boy, the familiar landscape doing little to ease the sour taste of anxiety broiling in the back of my throat.
 
The Gods certainly hadn’t thought of consequences, when they’d barged in to save a dying land from its fate, and simply drug it here, with the accursed lands and people they’d ever so graciously extended their aid to.  Why should I, if eternal, allegedly wise beings didn’t care to look ahead?  No person who was supposed to make the decisions seemed to, really, but it was less pitiful that the mortals in my life had let me down with their short sightedness than it was being let down by beings who were self-proclaimed Divines:  infallible, almighty, and useless.
 
My buck watches me go, for a time, before he slips after me, silent as a whisper as he wends through the trees (I as loud as a rampaging rhino).

 

sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Ki'irha

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

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#2
K I ' I R H A


The starlit girl travels slowly, with purpose, cloven hooves carefully picking along the permafrost. The wind caresses her, welcomes her, gently pushes her forward, encouraging her to travel the path she has worn smooth with each time she followed it back to the Aurora Basin. She sees the mountains towering, formidable, ominous, but knows within those stony walls, nestled within the valley, lays a herd which she used to call her own. She remembers, now, standing watch, can imagine the creaking groaning sentinel towering beside her as she lended her own eyes to protect their threshold.

Yet, here she stands, the freezing wind buffeting her side, and though it is gentle in its encouragement, it also reminds her that a bitter crystalized death waits for those who linger too long upon the open expanse. For some reason, she cannot will herself forward. Deep in her gut writhes the memory of her post as general, how she had vanished and perhaps left their home unprotected. Erebos had assumed her role, and as much as he deserved it, she was envious of all she had lost. Would she be welcomed warmly? Would she be invited back with open arms, be able to join as the lowest warrior to earn her glory back one battle at a time? Or would she be chased from the valley, forsaken, banished?

A sigh leaves her, slipping free from her lips, and it rises in a white puff of steam. Slowly, step by step, she proceeds forward, trying to shake from her galaxy-coated curves the frost and the fear, the terrifying sense of unknowing. What she needed to do was find her children, yet somehow her path had led her back here, to the only home she had ever known in this place, and she found herself stuck in a purgatory of waiting, unsure which family she should return to.

Another gust of wind shoves at her. The air seems to be growing impatient, so with a huff and twisting ears she proceeds forward at a trot, knowing she should find shelter to protect from frostbite if she’s going to continue to mull the decision over. A ways off, a grove of trees break up the sprawling nothingness, and it looks as good a spot as any to shield her from the cold. But as she begins to move forward, a small buck, much to small to be an elk, but with enough antler crowning it’s head that it must be full grown, slips into the copse of trees, and Ki’irha freezes. She freezes and the rock within her stomach swirls and spins and moves to her throat. Sure, many people have cindyr companions, but there is one in particular who calls one his own. It has been seasons, years, since she has seen the Clovenheart. Had he returned during her absence? Had he climbed back through the mountain passes and resumed his own place as Haruspex? She was too far away to tell, so that only meant one way to answer her questions.

She reaches the trees with ease, her body fully healed and repaired by the magic Lena had provided, and she enjoys being able to finally stretch her legs upon the steppe again. Slipping through the trunks, she moves effortlessly, her body made for the winding wood. But sound disturbed the turbulent silence, like a bull thrashing through a thicket. Ashamin wasn’t a graceless beast, so certainly her excitement was snuffed. Still she continued forward, curiosity getting the best of her.

Fuck. Of all the beasts she could have found here, of all of the glorious friends she had made before her accident, of every godforsaken soul upon this desolate hellscape, it had to be him. She came to a stop, watching him stomp around like the petulant child she remembered. But still, despite the distaste that wanted to land on her tongue, she felt the smallest flutter of happiness. The stallion before her, in all of his terrible glory, was someone who she remembered, and though he could easily hold the crown for Helovia’s biggest asshole multiple years in the running, she couldn’t help but be pleased to see someone who had once been an integral part of her life, despite his impact on it.

“Rikyn,” she said, the word a statement, a purr, with no negative or positive inflection. She stepped free from her hiding place, hoping he would stop his thrashing, hoping he would turn and see her and recognize her. She could deal with his venom, deal with his bite, for her bite and sting were just as sharp as they had been so many years ago as they battled and bled and seeped black tar.

Although, she did hope today would end off a little better than that.




There's a fine line in between
our progress and our instability



image credits

@Rikyn ~
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

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


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


They never come for apologies or hard answers when I’m ready, when the world is peaceful and my head is put together, and my heart not slamming inside me like a rioting mass. They come now, when my rage coils like snakes, when I am full of anger that is misplaced and sudden: like bolts of lightning from a swollen and black cloud, I don’t care if you’re struck down, or if the world rises to flame in the wake of my reach.

As Ki’irha approaches, my name tossed forth from her lips, as if she knows me, not just sees me, I turn that brooding storm to her, and let the rain proceed to drench her. Stopping my forward motions, nostrils flared and a hot blast of air procured from within my very core, I meet her with hard golden eyes that flash with everything that brews inside me. My face contorts into a welcoming grimace, incapable of smiling, and suspicious, too, of her motives here.

I don’t immediately think of how she’d been absent; I don’t think, either, of just how long it’s been since we have seen each other. All I remember is being sick, having mistaken her for something else, and attacking. What had come thereafter was her utter refusal to accept that, maybe, just maybe, it had been an accident, and I wasn’t really to blame.

Her sharp looks had followed me anytime I’d found myself in their line since. Maybe it was why I hadn’t cared so much they’d gone away.

Duir, more amiable than me at this moment, greets with a small baying noise, his ears lifted. Mine can barely be conceived so, and my face is certainly not one of good cheer and welcome, such as his is.

"What do you want, Ki’irha?" I ask, bitterly, "as clearly I’m out here in the middle of no where, looking for someone to talk to."



sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Ki'irha

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

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#4
K I ' I R H A


She steps back, ears pinning for a moment, as he spits venom at her. She was still at a loss for what had caused such a rift between them, the memory of their battle shrouded within a murky shadow, with only glances and blows flashing clearly through the haze. She composes herself, veils her features beneath a smile and a raised brow. "A pleasure as always," she retorts, sidestepping the sword beneath his words, seemingly unperturbed by his behavior. She casts her smile to the small deer, true warmth sparkling within her churning stormy gaze. "Hello to you too, handsome boy," she croons, hoping to reward the contrast in greetings between man and bonded.

Again she looks to the gilded stallion, and for a moment has to credit the gods for the way time had treated him. He had grown remarkably, handsome features carved into his face, despite the forced facade of a smile that had found its way to his lips. He had shrugged off the last hints of childhood, and stood powerfully, handsomely, among the trees. Rumors had told her the Basin had found a new king, promising a Puppeteer, a young stallion with a familiar name, and though it was shocking to hear that anyone would crown a reckless youth, a wild outcast, to lead them, she could gather that perhaps he had grown to the role. Still, she hated to assume.

"Who says I was out here looking for trouble," she replies, shrugging her graceful shoulders dismissively. "I was simply roaming, reminiscing, wondering who patrolled the steppe these days." Wondering if I could still find my home in these mountains. With a careful flick of her tail, she discarded the final thought. No reason to tempt the man, no desire to flaunt a desire before him so he could snuff her out, banish her before she could even make an honest attempt at returning.

A cold chill ran across her pelt, sending a shiver down her spine. Things were changing, and not just the seasons. Something bigger, something more profound, hovered just past the horizon, waiting to breech the line between earth and sky, wanting to devour the sun. She shook off the feeling, knowing it was just nerves playing with the loose strings that hung from her agenda.

"So, Rikyn," she continues, ignoring the obvious desire to shake her from his path to resume his acts in solitude. She leans back on her delicate and sloping haunches, cocking a rear hoof. "I heard through the grapevine that they decided to give you a crown?"

Despite the coyness of her words, hidden somewhere beneath the derision, was a warmth, a playfulness. And though it could be easily missed, it was very real, and very much there, if one was willing to hear it.



There's a fine line in between
our progress and our instability



image credits

@Rikyn ~
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

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
#5


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


She’s sweet in response to my fire, which, honestly, makes it rise further, with an audible crackle in the sound of an annoyed groan as my eyes roll. Duir, delighted to be complemented, smiles in his deer-like way, tail fluttering behind him swiftly. Looking back at me with his green eyes vibrant, he mentally notes.

Like her, in such a fashion that it is wreathed in the smell of pine needles and snow, symbolic of how he likes the Basin; pretty but cold, glittering and serene.

You would, I retort, looking back at the star-strewn mare with a sidelong glance that retains every ounce of my bratty nature. She wants knowledge, at least, which is well enough; for a while there, it seemed like people were coming out of the wood work to kick my ass. It’s been a while since I’ve been attacked for no logical reason, whatsoever, and I’m glad that, for now, at least, my good behavior continues to pay out in conversation, rather than battle.

Of course, my behavior is also starting to border on less than well mannered…

"No one we don’t see," I remark, because its probably true; many of our warriors patrol enough to not get proper rest, me not included. The full embodiment of annoyance here has nothing to do with lack of sleep. "Few of them are the faces you remember, would be my guess. They’ve flocked elsewhere."

Like the sheep they are, too craven to feel at home among the wolves of the north. I let the silence grow between us, watching as she casually rests her figure so that her hips become curves, her shoulders sloping and graceful. What she sees is age; she may forget that with age comes other impulses, and they lure my eyes to these soft angles of her body, when I think I can steal a glance without rousing her outrage.

Some women, they get really mad when you look at them for too long.

"Well, they didn’t like the idea much at all," I explain, recalling Wessex’s face most poignantly of all, with the first genuine smirk that has crossed my lips since this encounter’s began, "sorta had to go with it, what with it writ in the sky and all. It means nothing now, of course."

I don’t talk about Him, the one who put the words there, because fuck Him. He’s no better than mother, than any of those cretins who’d been there, that night we’d crept out to hold a secret meeting in the depths of shadow; all of them who turned their backs to the peaks and walked away, leaving behind everything they’d promised to protect and uphold.


sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Ki'irha

Wishlist - Plots

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

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#6
K I ' I R H A


The cerndyr simply shines with glee, and the star lit girl smiles down at him, nearly missing the way the Puppeteer glares at her. He burns fiercely, like an out of control wildfire, and she loves the way her dancing heels help spark the tinder that fills him, begging to be ignited. He is fire and she is ice; his heat causes her demeanor to chill, the perfect paradoxical reaction. She wishes to be hard edges and perilous spikes. She urges him on and he coaxes her, and together they hurdle towards imminent disaster.

She can't help but catch his wandering eyes, and though before she would have most likely snapped her teeth and reminded him to keep his bits where they belonged, she felt a sudden coyness envelop her. Sure, she would never, not in a million years, allow herself to fulfil any studly desires he might harbor, but what of her own? She had only known one in such an intimate way, and his touch had been gentle, and the results had been beautiful. But there was something raw and consuming about they way he looked at her, the vehement sparks that flew when they clashed, that makes her wonder, just for a moment.

Since last meeting Mesec she had been consumed by the blossoms that had bloomed, the warmth that had filled her, the overwhelming desire she felt in wanting to fall into him again. Her admiration makes her know that she would not smash the fragile thing between them for some cheap thrill. Would her decision be different if she knew he claimed another? That what they had created was no longer solitary, that more seeds been planted and had grown to fruition?

The Nightwind's hold on her kept her from falling into Rikyn's golden gaze. Still, she rolled her shoulders when she spoke, let her neck slope and arch ever so slightly, and allowed him to enjoy the thought of her however he wished. The attention made her heart flutter, and though she tempered her desires with her loyalty, the embers still smoldered.

"I see," she finally replies, shaking her sculpted head sadly. "But I'm sure many had their reasons for leaving. Besides, not everyone is made to belong in the Basin. The herd is probably better off. And who knows, some may drag themselves back to the doorstep in hopes of returning." Another smile dances upon her lips, a smirk dancing at the corner. "Though, I assume they'll just as soon turn and leave knowing that you're their proud king."

He speaks of the herd, and she listens attentively, hoping to hear of more than dissatisfaction of their appointed leader. But he spares many details, and the smile lessens. It vanishes completely, however, as he says nothing matters.

Ominous and dramatic, as always.

"What do you mean?" She tips her head, furrows her brows, wonders if he is trying to confirm the rumors that have been flying. She is sure to hide the fear that begins to creep up, reaching desperately for anything, the closest emotion, the nearest thought, to hide the discomfort behind.

She nearly burns herself upon leaping dancing flames.

"Everything means something," she says, the words nearly a purr. She shifts towards him, taking a single gentle step, looking towards him with soft silver eyes peering through long lashes. Her body sways, leaning towards his warmth. "You know things don't happen without reason. At least, I hope you've learned something across all of these years. Unless you're still as brutish as before, attacking innocent mares for reasons still unexplained."

A snake in the grass, unpredictable, wild, hiding beneath a field of flowers. Though uncharacteristic of her, to play such games, the world was coming to an end it seemed, and with the world burning, she just wanted to dance in the flames.




There's a fine line in between
our progress and our instability



image credits

@Rikyn
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

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


sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:


I’m surprised to find that she’s sort of into my wandering eyes, just as I’d been drawn in by Ampere’s playfully sexual nature. The magnetism of women who are comfortable being all curves and smoldering embers pulls me in like a moth to a flame, my gilded glances all the more freely cast as she slopes her body into all the more alluring of shapes.

I do not know that the handsome boy with the stunted wings I had met twice in my wanderings was hers, nor did I know that he belonged to a set of two; that she is a matured woman, shaped like my women, now that they have born fruits, it is clear that she is no longer a sapling, instead crafted to bear weight. It gives them all a sloping softness, a rounded shape that is not the tautened muscle of youth, and while some might find it off putting, I find them all the more feminine for it. Even Ampere, too old for me, even I know that, had worn the weight of her years in a way that a young woman could not manage.

It was true grace; not just wild, simmering beauty, but the tempered mastery of it. Knowing the full range of their arsenal, they knew how to use their power in all the ways the young girls didn’t. Her seductive glance dances over the crackling annoyance I feel at the world; it eases its way like thread pulled by a needle through the weave of my consciousness, so that all at once I am every sort of tension bundled into one body, so that I look at her with hot eyes that burn above the slant of my dark smile, and my deer anxiously shifts his weight from one hoof to the other alongside me.

I plan to draw her in with my narrow words. I might lose myself in the throws the darkness that looms beyond the roar of my anger, and the rousing crackle of lust, drawn towards games I despised, and had once pledged aloud to never play, but it is better to move pawns than to focus on those which have been struck to dust by time and fate. Scraps, I feed her, small bits of information that do little more than draw more questions, more time within this tension heavy moment, and it works. It works better than I’d ever expected it to, as she slowly sidles up along side me, her starry velvet breasting ever so near to my coffee black sides. The sound of frustration that explodes from my nostrils at her final statement is born from the words, and the fire-like ache to touch her that has slowly begun to build in my veins.

"That was a long time ago, and an accident. Sure you’re not just mad I beat you?" I ask with a dark, roguish smirk, disguising my wonder as to whether she has felt the emptiness in the air, as the Gods of Helovia convened and prepared for battle, or if she is simply ignoring it; I certainly could not, and I was not an idiot, despite my many negative qualities. I could hope that the battle would go well, that the defeat of our Gods multiple times in the past year by this deceitful monster they themselves had drawn in was not ominously suggesting that, again, they would fall… But men like me have little faith left, for such concepts as hope. We really on what we know, and feel in our hearts, and if she is not yet afraid… she should be. My smile falls away as I continue on, the dark reality I had learned churning restlessly in my breast: Gods could die. "You really have not felt it? I have, ever since the Time God told us all to be safe, and vanished. If the emptiness is not enough, were you not there, the first time we fought these Rift Gods? I can’t help but wonder if they’ll still think of me as a king, if the God who made me one dies."

‘Oh, let’s just do what that great big crackling loser said,’ they’ll all cajole, ‘he only got himself killed. What a great inspiration, what a leader! Surely he knows a good Lord when he sees one...’

Duir rolls his eyes alongside me, his head shaking in sad disapproval of my childishness.


sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.


Image by TheArtlex@DA

@Ki'irha

Wishlist - Plots

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


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