| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3hh :: 13. |
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Comadre :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath
Boom Boom! |
 The cold air stung. Like knives it raked its merciless fingers through the fur which gruffly covered the bulk of a body which trudges forth in the snow. Winter forcefully tugging at the body, golden eyes scouring every inch of the snow laden meadow for any sign of her. A thick cloud of vapor raises in his line of vision, unwanted but warm against the frigid cold that coats his face. Paw prints in the snow, trailing from edge to edge, in patterns from the edge of the frozen river to the copse of trees that demarked the exit of the territory.
Everything was cold, everything.
Like the flakes that flurried hurriedly at his sides, clinging to the coat, rising up and down with each breath, the whole terrain was nothing but a gentle reminder that he stood here alone. You are not alone, Osiris, the familiar lilt of the dragon's voice coos in his head, even as the little reptile waits patiently in the line of trees, a flash of purple and black against white. The poor thing had made itself a little bonfire, lit with a sharp flash of his own fire, a skill the wolf had not even been aware his bonded possessed. Comadre had grown over the years of their companionship, but the hybrid had felt as though he had been cut down at the knees. What was there to search for in this meadow if not his own delusions?
There was no gray pony here, no warm honey eyes to greet him. The whole of their tentative friendship, was it a lie? Virva, she had managed to come to Helovia, had she not? Had both he and Comadre seen her, felt her, spoke to her? Perhaps, it was that his own presence had driven her further still, further from the land that would be a safe haven from the creatures in her nightmares. The only nightmarish creature now was the monster standing in the middle of a frozen field, head dropped to the ground, yellowed grass whipping at his nose with each frigid gust. The only one who haunted her mind was me, the hybrid thought with a wave of self-hatred. The only one she feared was me.
A bitter laugh chokes forth from his throat as the wolf dances to life, suddenly, wheeling from his spot and back toward the river. That stallion was taking her to the river in the Thistle Meadow. After she came here, she left. She left, but they did not meet in the Foothills as she promised. They did not meet. What lies were told in a cruel tongue of a woman. Shame and pain could only be doled out in such quantities by the hand of professional, a thief who had unwittingly stolen the locked heart from his chest. The thief who was running now, wings caressing the wind a thousand times more gently than she had ever spoken to him.
"Bitch," Osiris mutters at last, a gurgling in his baritone voice as though tears had taken up residence in his eyes.
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B A Z I L I S K
I do not desire to hear your words, nor you mine.
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In my time in this frost-touched land, I feel as if most of my life has been of simplicity, of basic need to eat despite belonging to one of the horses' 'herds'. Herds. 'Herds'. Ha! They are nothing compared to quiet solitude, but I enjoy a position of languid power, I revel in the ease of traveling. Swiftly I slither, head low to the ground, muscles surging over the land with a flick of the muscles along my body. Flying it feels, flying over the snow and gathering speed very quickly, turning and twisting around the trees, the silent rustle of my scales against snow. I haven't traveled this fast for many days, not since I fled the Deep Abyss into exile... shame creates a smouldering flame inside me, and with a hiss of frustration, I speed on under the cloak of night.
Hissk, hissk, ssh, ssh. My scales go as I slip along, enjoying the taste of freedom in my body. A giant serpent free to roam! And that is how I nearly run into the wolf-horse, rear up my head, and snap at him, before backing down all in the matter of seconds. Black lips curl to expose white teeth as a red tongue flickers from my fang, tasting the air. He smells of predator, and I wonder if he ever struggles to remain a horse and not the wolf he shares family with.
"Little wolf-horse," I grumble, cautiously lowering to the ground. "My apologies."
[ooc: sorry for crap post! I really need to get off >.<]
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| Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7 |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK |
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Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath
Tamme |
Something was different, changed. Heterochromatic eyes of crystal and crimson narrowed slightly as she observed the alteration of the landscape before her. No longer was the perfect blanket of white unmarred from the night's snowfall. Hundreds of prints moved in all directions, from one end to the other in the shape of paws, and she could not help but think of Osiris. Was he looking for someone? The grey, still? Ophelia had believed she had been found on the beach that day, but perhaps she was mistaken. Either way, the frequency of the sinkholes was concerning, so with furrowed brows and a cautious gaze, she tried to follow a fresh trail.
The snow started to fall again from stormy skies, kissing her deathly pallor with a gentle whisper of cold. Crystals of ice landed on her long, thick lashes and gathered in her hair, adorning the crimson with beads of diamonds that refracted what little light filtered through the clouds in a radiant way. Ophelia barely noticed; the cold was a welcome sensation that made her feel truly alive; it sank deeply into her soul and settled with a vibrancy and pulsing warmth. She inhaled deeply, catching the scent of smoke on the crisp air, and her tulip ears tilted back in worry. Ophelia gathered her slender legs beneath her lithe figure and swiftly moved into a three-beated gait, cloven hooves moving in the direction of the harsh burning smell.
If something happened to him.... she trailed, not allowing herself to complete the thought; it was a fool's errand. Tinek, sensing her immediacy, took to the skies and looked down upon the snowy field through crimson eyes, spotting the fire almost instantly. He send his bond-mate hazy images to give her direction, swooping down soon after to land near the older, black Comadre. The silver eyed the fire curiously, his own breath causing quite the opposite response in nature, and he hunkered down near the warmth, gazing as the pale figure of Ophelia hurried into the vicinity.
The bitter laugh was not expected from the smoke, and she saw that Tinek had settled next to Comadre and the black had started the fire. Relief flooded her heart, knowing that the pair were safe. Still, something about Osiris was off. He stood with his muzzle barely above the line of oppressed grass that had been exposed from the snow, possibly by his movements. Ophelia's quiet gait shifted to a slow, cautious walk, watching from a distance as he tore himself from his spot and moved toward the river which ran unhindered by ice and frost.
A slithering, massive, black abomination moved toward her friend, and her eyes widened in disbelief, anger and shock. He, it? Was moving straight toward Osiris, and without a thought to her own safety, she narrowed her gaze, adrenalin coursing through her veins like a drug that fed the eruption of motion from her figure. Ophelia was a white and crimson banner racing across the snow, cloven hooves never taking a false step as she lowered her horn menacingly, determined to protect her friend. The distance between them was gone almost instantly, and she arrived just as the serpent bumped into Osiris, muttering something about apologizing. Apology?
The racing of her heart and movement faltered, and she broke from her gallop with a pop of long limbs and jumped to a halt, nostrils flaring. Ophelia eyed the serpent with a noble wariness, snorting a thick cloud of white and coming to stand next to Osiris, making the odds in their favor (if odds would even matter against such a monster). The mare's neck was lifted high upon her withers, stance strong and neck arched in a way that made her seem even more regal than her usual, soft demeanor. Phi cast a glance into her friend's golden eyes, a silent question of "are you all right?" settling in her left, blue eye. "I would hardly call him little," she said in his defense, the half-wolf standing much taller than herself, and she was not short.
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COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery
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tangled-stock | Salsola stock
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
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Please tag me in every response!
Djinn
No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure.
There was something almost perverse in the pleasure he gained from tailing the slender mare. After making a beeline for the Forest and the Gray, he had tired of seeing the same faces, the same old routine and that meant it was time to pick up the pieces of something vastly more interesting. A conversation unfinished, topics yet to be addressed, and oh, so much fun to gain. All it took was to catch Ophelia at the right time, and they could continue their game of mental cat-and-mouse, where no one knew who was cat and who was mouse. Or perhaps the mouse in fact was a weasel, perfectly capable of turning the tables?
It was the uncertainty that made it so exciting, and excitement was what made it worth waking up in the morning. Simple, really.
He actually enjoyed the mere task of following the tracks and scent of the bloody lady, preferring to keep quite a distance between them so that the angry frog-bat of hers wouldn't pick up on his presence. Perhaps it was too much to ask for; he didn't know a lot about dragons aside from what he'd learned as a kid, but he imagined their senses must be pretty sharp. With the head held low and senses alert, it was a simple thing to shadow her, child's play. The sturdy legs kept him at an even pace, tail held high and eyes playing to catch every sign of her passing as not to rely solely of a fickle trail of scent. There, a hoof-print in the snow. A silken strand of hair, tipped in bloody crimson. More subtle traces were the breaking of branches and signs of bark being rubbed off the trunk of a tree. To a tracker like him it could as well have been a highway with signs pointing in her direction.
When she moved out onto the meadow however, things became more difficult. How, after all, do you stalk someone secretly when the target in question could see you coming from a mile away?
You don't. So he didn't.
Instead the demon-eyed unicorn gave up and picked up the pace, following the telltale tracks of elegant hooves across the snowy plane at a steady canter. Djinn made sure to enjoy himself thoroughly as he went; Ophelia had been right when guessing he never had to be told to have fun. It came anyway, from situations where you could tease and taunt, the quiet enjoyment of a shared meal or like now, the thrilling anticipation that came with wondering how the mercenary princess would react to seeing him again. Would she be annoyed, thrilled. Secretly happy, but hiding it behind a facade of disinterest? He grinned, and picked up the pace.
When he caught up, the situation he found the lady in was a bit different from what he had expected. Instead of her being alone with the snappy little dragon she was racing at full speed towards a large, ragged looking.. thing, wolf or horse, it was impossible to tell for sure. She appeared to be tossing herself towards a large, slithering creature, a snake? that also was heading for the wolf...
Djinn didn't stop to think about it. Snow scattered around the hooves as he threw himself forward, intent on catching up with his leader and protect her if it became necessary. Hadn't he said he'd watch her back? So he would, because DemonEye Djinn never went back on his word.
'Twas a shame that his services wasn't necessary. When he caught up and skidded into a halt next to Ophelia she was already standing still, side by side with the wolf creature and apparently prepared to face off with the giant reptile (it was a snake!) should it be necessary.
The large stallion frowned, trying to take in the situation. The stranger on her other side was apparently someone she knew, otherwise she wouldn't seem so comfortable next to him. He was large, even bigger than the horned boy who had more or less reached his final height, and had a rugged appearance and hard eyes that immediately entered him on the merc's list of people to be wary of.
"You have some rather interesting acquaintances" he said jokingly while trying to catch his breath, worried expression fading away into perfect calm; he slipped in by her side, curiously regarding the black reptile before you. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not fight this one. Unless there's payment to have, of course."
Nor is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain.
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| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3hh :: 13. |
|
Comadre :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath
Boom Boom! |
A screech powerful and loud rings first across the field, the small dragon who had happily been gazing at the younger silver moments before leaping up, flying through the small flames and toward the larger black reptile. The jaws which snapped were seen as an immediate threat, and one which was met with a billow of nuclear fire. It fell short of its target, however, as the little black noted almost instantly how the teeth of the massive snake closed short of the sorrowful figure by him. Comadre does not stop moving, though, but propels past the basilisk and lands upon the shoulder of his bonded. Unfurling his wings, the dragon puffs out his small chest, letting out a menacing hiss as he looks out at the fellow scaled being protectively.
Sorrowful golden eyes peer up from the snow, all of the commotion dragging him out of the strange, pitiful stupor he had found himself in. A cloud of white smoke draws his attention even as a the forked tongue of a serpent sings out an apology. Two toned eyes rain through the vapor and the wolf blinks, seeing her rush to his aid as if this were some sort of twisted dream. "Ophelia," he says harshly, his voice still a bit hoarse. "My blood is better suited to paint the snow than yours." A smile, cooked and decorated with serrated teeth, peeks out from gruff lips. Her face contorted in worry, the lines of her delicate features painted in a shade he was unfamiliar with. Her gaze averts from his own, looking toward the large reptile that the wolf seemed either to be unaware or indifferent toward. Her words make him drift a heavy lidded gaze toward the black snake.
Cautiously, paws reverse in the snow, increasing the gap. Comadre chrips in surprise at the sudden movement. Didn't you see it? he asks, looking up from Osiris's shoulder toward the massive hybrids dazed features. "I didn't know it was so close," the wolf says, looking at the dragon to avoid confusing any to whom he was speaking. From the snow appears another figure, with black features outlining him in a flurry of snow. Golden eyes narrow in his approach, the stallion carrying himself in an oddly smug manner that set the hybrid's teeth on edge - as if he needed any more excuses to be in a bad mood today. Canine ears slick back into a mess of mane, quite displeased with the way he approached the group with judging blue eyes.
Cloaked in fur and feral expressions, the wolf listens intently to the words of the boy, finding himself becoming more annoyed with each passing second. Annoyance was like a lifeline out of the slump of depression the hybrid was to find himself in if not for the distraction. The sudden liveliness was not entirely welcomed, but it was better than brooding on things kept in the past. "I doubt Ophelia is of the heart to injure a friend," the wolf says with a sneer. "Even if they are dressed in such a garb as mine."
Speaking of mercenary work as though every new appearance was a target. What an idiot.
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B A Z I L I S K
I do not desire to hear your words, nor you mine.
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A black winged reptiles swoops at my head, a jet of glistening red flame from its mouth. It seems I have chosen well to be immune to fire, with all these pesky dragons running around trying to flame me! I watch in annoyance as a white unicorn appears, mane seeming to be dyed with blood, rushing over to level her head at my throat. Really, does everyone in Helovia think I'm going to eat them? Rediciulous. I only eat horses who have done something to make the Throat leaders very angry.
"Little lady, please, do not level your spear at me as if I'm about to attack you or your comrade. I have no intent on harming everyone." I give a long sigh, and despite my pure annoyance ticking at me, my voice is quite calm and level. I watched, even more ticked off, as another white unicorn scurries towards me, and calls me- yes, ME!- an 'it'. I snort, black coils curling under me. "For your information, unicorn, I am a male, not an it." I growl, voice filled with icy venom. Green eyes catch and hold his with distaste. I don't like this one. The rest of them, ah, so-so. "I'm Bazilisk, Artisan of the Dragon's Throat."
[Sorry not much muse for this thread. Hopefully longer posts later!]
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| Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7 |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK |
|
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath
Tamme |
Tinek picked up on the change in distress at nearly the same moment as Comadre, and the silver dragon quickly followed the small black, soaring wildly through the hair to land on Ophelia. The charcoal dragon was Tinek's only, elder role-model, and as such, he parroted the creature by crawling up Ophelia's neck and hissing, heavy frost falling from his jaws. Silver wings expand to make the infant appear larger, arching his neck to reveal a row of sharp, silver daggers that erupted from his spine. When Osiris' hoarse voice reached her ears, the words so dark and sorrowful, she furrowed her brows deeply, odd eyes filling with concern. "You are wrong," she murmured sternly, her soft, concerned expression hardened with the conviction of her words.
Ophelia heard the wolf-stallion murmur to his dragon, and she hoped that one day, she and Tinek would be able to follow suit. Suddenly, Djinn, the stallion who had spoken about watching her back from the Threshold, came bolting toward them, coming to stand at her side. Honestly, she was surprised. Even Aaron, the colt who had held feelings for her, had taken his life into his own hands, moving from the Foothills to the Edge. Why was the gray so interested in her? What did it all mean? Nothing, most likely. Ever since seeing the winged mare on the beach with Osiris, Ophelia had promised herself to not think too deeply into the ways of stallions; either she was met with their foolishness or her own.
A protective streak, similar to the one that caused her to run blindly to the wolf's aide, sparked in her heart when Djinn mentioned only protecting him for payment. The sharp look she shot the stallion was nearly hard enough to be lethal, were looks as visceral as knives. "Osiris is a friend and an ally. We aide our own without payment. We aide our friends without payment." Her words were final, firm. Even if the blue-eyed demon disagreed, he knew where she stood. However, his bravery was commendable; he ran to her aide regardless of the obvious danger to his own health. Ophelia allowed her stern look to soften as her gaze worked back to Djinn's demon eyes. "Thank you, though. I did not realize you were following me..." she trailed, brows furrowing. How had he tracked her without her knowing? Usually she was quiet and aware of her surrounding.
When the black snake introduced himself as the artisan of the Throat, Ophelia blinked, struck by the irony. Kri was certainly not judgmental of those she allowed in her herd. The white and crimson mare had discovered that first hand when her identity was stolen and used against her father and sister; even the memory brought anger rising to her throat. "I was once the sleuth for your herd," she replied, letting that little piece of her past be known to Djinn and Osiris - let them think what they would. "Did you replace Prometheus then?" she asked, aware of the fact that a half-dead creature had once forged metal for the Throat.
|
COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery
|
tangled-stock | Salsola stock
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
|
Please tag me in every response!
Djinn
No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure.
Why was it that he always found himself faced with a wall of displeased glares, defensiveness and animosity? It must be something with his charming personality, Djinn decided, because no matter where he went the faces remained the same. Not that it bothered him. It was simply a curious phenomenon, that quickly was growing into a pattern. Meetings, exchange of words, sour glares... He wished people wouldn't be quite as predictable though.
Djinn rolled the electric blue eyes at the rumbling disapproval his comments were awarded with and shrugged, caring little about the hard eyes of the hybrid male, the offense of the snake or the reprimand from the angelic lady.
"Your friends are my friends, Ophelia, but it's hard to know that they are considering I've never met them before" he answered her dryly, visibly pleased upon hearing that she hadn't realized she was shadowed. "From violent sisters to wolfmen, crawlers and frost bats... How could I ever stay away, knowing how many interesting things that gather around you?"
He slipped from the side of his lovely commander, moving with ease across the snowy ground despite the heavy built. The unicorn approached the basilisk, tentatively reaching down to nose the long, muscular back of the creature in a manner that was sure to at least irk the thing - rubbing people the wrong way was a favorite pastime of his. "For the record, I wasn't talking about you, oh friend of Ophelia, and how am I supposed to know the gender of a snake? It's not exactly written on your scales, you know. Most clove-tongued things tend to be rather quiet, as far as I've seen."
The tone was easygoing and jesting, painting him out as the fool they already took him for. Djinn didn't mind being underestimated, he'd happily run his tongue all day long, watch them all get more and more riled up - should they explode on him he would just move on. The only person he even remotely cared about was the crimson-tipped damsel - not her opinions about him, but rather whether she could be tempted to laugh for him again. That would be hard to do if he was hated, so he'd have to be a wee bit more careful when she was around.
[So sorry for the late reply]
Nor is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain.
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| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3hh :: 13. |
|
Comadre :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath
Boom Boom! |
osiris</style>
There was so much noise, nattering around in Osiris's head, like a constant buzz pulling on his mind and making him more and more disgruntled with each passing moment. Perhaps Comadre noticed this first, for the wolf could feel the eyes of his bonded fixed upon the face of the wolf, even as he calmed his stance upon his shoulder. The snake obviously did not intend to harm the hybrid, so it no longer needed his attention. Those violet eyes did notice the mimicry of movement in Tinek, though, but for now his concern was not for the dragon which adored him, but for the furry companion whose heart was currently beating at an erratic pace.
Slowly, mainly due to the vacuous feeling of abandonment consuming his chest, pushing with that negative energy until the organ could not beat with regular time. Fast, the presence of an unknown predator as well as several others. It was like each thud in his ribcage would bounce from one rhythm to another, making the wolf feel somewhat squeamish standing upright, and the only thing the large hybrid wanted was to crawl into a cave and sleep off this horrible feeling. In dreams, there was often an escape from the immediate reality, and in dead sleep, nothing touched your mind. No hopes, no worries, just a blissful sort of darkness. How he wished now was the time to succumb to such a thing.
However, the chatter in his ears only increased, making them slick back in annoyance. Head dips, heart settling on one speed due to the growing irritation of his mind, spreading like a wildfire to the edges of his consciousness. Osiris, are you okay? inquistive claws, the reptile making steady work of his coat to bring him atop the poll of his bonded, tail hanging back behind a folded ear like some sort of adornment, front talons grasping his forelock tightly. Long neck arches down for violet eyes to look straight into feral gold. Suddenly, the hybrid lifts his head, a dragon for a crown, and looks around the gathering rather peevishly.
The unicorn idiot is speaking now, his mouth rambling on and on with a nonsensical tone. "Can you shut the hell up?" the wolf asks abruptly, not really caring if he interrupts the thought process of one so dense. Whether he had been coming to a natural stop or not, the words ceased, and Osiris was grateful. "I have little patience for your humor right now." It figures that the day his heart was ripped from his chest that he would have an audience, but the wolf was not inclined to deal with the needless chatter of others for no reason.
"Was there something you needed, Bazilisk?" the wolf asks, eyes directed toward the snake now, as the creature had approached him first.
""
we resign ourselves to existence in the dark. </style>
we must stay afraid. </style>
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image by caste @ flickr.com
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