the Rift


What is Lost [Psyche]

Prometheus Posts: 75
Up For Adoption atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 8.2 / 16.3 :: 4 months / 6 years [Immortal] HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Pyr :: Siberian Tiger :: Hypnotize & Flaming Touch Adoptable
#1


I have wings, and yet I cannot fly. I have spread them in their full majesty, gritted my teeth as the newly bonded feathers pinch flesh that is scarred and pink, but then I am stuck. I have jumped and spun, but the sensation of lifting them and pressing them down to beat the air is new and hard to master. I have maintained this form for what feels like days since my departure from the veins, perhaps to feel the pain and the reminder that once I was alive. But I was never alive like this, never with such a fearful look in my eyes and such a sensation of regret.

This was a terrible idea- all of it. I will never fly, I will never look down on the crows and plunge to crush them beneath me, I will never look down upon you and call down with fondness. No, because you are dead. Dead, and I will never see you again. For death now is permanent, they have changed the rules. The gods have ruined themselves and now take it down to those residing below.

I had thought I would rise above this madness, ascend past this foolishness, but no! I return to the desert to find your corpse, to find emptiness in a land where I am forbidden to walk. My wings fold and my shoulders ache with the pain. My body steps across the hot sand and my form seems to fall in on itself. Coming here was useless, thinking I could change things was foolish. I am as I am, and you are dead.

But perhaps the dead walk again.

For as my eyes open and take in the massive expanse of desert before me, you stand. Lit like a torch, proud and tall. Healed, but not by magic. Marked by burns and scars, hurt by my betrayal and my leaving, but alive. The silence between our minds is unsettling, the flames unexpected, but I know that you are real. You have found me in my hour of need, and you watch me now as the ends of long white hairs burn and deep orange eyes look into an empty soul.

Were we capable of speaking there would be nothing to say. I have come to the place which is my bane, but you- you are home. Together we are home. Dead and disconnected, but still with a sick sense of loved brimming our eyes. We are home.





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Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#2


She might have allowed the anger to take over, were she not so busy trying to come up with an escape plan.

She understood now the vehemence of the impures that they had gathered over the past weeks. She understood how degrading it was to be held prisoner, like a caged bird, so close to freedom and yet, metaphorical wings clipped, tied down. And she, at least, was being treated well, a weakness in her opponents that she was certainly exploited. She was the better captor, she and her band. They ensured that their prisoners were beaten and bruised, warned of the effects of attacking the superior species. And they would carry stories back with them, were they to escape. She was confident that those of the Throat had few secrets that they would be able to exploit; no more did the Foothills or the Edge have secrets. But the Basin? They were a secret.

Or they had been. But days had passed now, and surely someone would have tracked the scent of unicorn through the pass and into the valley beyond. But perhaps all would not be lost - perhaps her kin would successfully fight them off, successfully hold down the fort, as it were. Who would rise to the occasion? She had spoken highly of d'Artagnan, the Time Mender, and his Nurse, Kou; she had also named Deimos, her newly-appointed general. These were the names that she had used to quell Elizabeth's fears. But would they really do as she had said they would? And even if they did, what of the non-racists in her herd? Of course, she knew they were there. She would be a fool to ignore their presence. She had chosen to withhold appointment of some of the higher ranks, waiting to learn more of them, so she might give positions of power to those not in her little group, to gain everyone's trust. For these were the things she must think of these days...

But such thoughts made her head ache, and she found herself wishing for the simpler days, when Mauja had handled diplomacy with the herd whilst she plotted with her select few, in secret. Now she feared that their secret was very close to discovery, which could very well prove catastrophic. If she even had a secret to return to, when she escaped the gods-cursed desert. It was times like these that she missed the FrostHeart, not for what he had been to her, but for his leadership. She struggled to model herself after him, albeit in her own way; but she was not a fool. Diplomacy was a skill she ought to have learned from him long ago, not as an afterthought, not in retrospect when she had already assumed the throne.

An oddly familiar stench filled her nostrils, and with surprise the Dark Empress halted from the easy trot that she had taken up. She knew her guard would not be far; he would catch up to her were she to roam too far. One day, she would break free of his hold, but for now... The smell drew her closer, and she could not tell if it marked one that she knew or if the smell of rotting flesh was simply common in her life. Most likely, it was the latter, but there was something about it that jogged a distant, foggy memory. And then she was upon him, the little undead colt-stallion. She knew him, of course she knew him, for he had joined her Plague long ago. But she had not seen him since, and had he always had wings?

She halted before him, cranium tilted as though in confusion or thought. No, he had been wingless before. In fact, he had joined her quest to rid the world of wings. So why would he have a pair - a very sickly looking pair - riding upon his shoulders? What trickery was this? She could not think of a proper greeting; she did not know if he would even remember her. Sharp eyes gave him a once-over, maw curled into a frown, but she did not draw away from him, as she might have done had she not previously known him. Instead, at a loss, her rather brash personality kicked into gear, and she spoke before thinking. "Well, don't you look rather the worse for wear?"

[W/C | ---]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.


Prometheus Posts: 75
Up For Adoption atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 8.2 / 16.3 :: 4 months / 6 years [Immortal] HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Pyr :: Siberian Tiger :: Hypnotize & Flaming Touch Adoptable
#3


She approaches from the distance, and even though the space between us seems vast, I can feel her hate. Hatred of this place and those who lead and live in it- it appears we have something in common, she and I. But the wings upon my back, a sharp white and black set stained with the blood of the dead, betray my other belief. My belief that race is merely a construct upheld by fools, that we are all everything. The fools of the plague, among whom I used to walk, hold themselves above others. But they are mortal, and they are fools. All are food for the worms when dead, regardless of blood or standing in life. All but me.

I recall her name whispered through the ranks. Queen of the plague, lover to the King yet an unpredictable bitch. Mauja had been one to respect, however, and I will do his memory no disrespect. What was once his trusted adviser will become one I respect, even if I doubt her by the very way in which she carries herself across the sand. You settle beside me comfortingly, a fire lining the ridge of your back and burning at the end or your tail. The breeze blows and the flames flicker, leaping towards my now living flesh, and bite. With a sharp neigh my body shifts to the side, and the effects of the eclipse reveal themselves. Gift from the gods or not, his magic will harm me until our bond is repaired.

Her remarks are flippant and the pair of us are disinterested in her cause entirely. I watch her with stony, pure white eyes blinded by the magic that holds me in this glorious form. The stallion image of me is tall and handsome, and with you at my side, torn from battle-scars but still proud, we are magnificent. I can see your eyes seeking out hers and I watch as your tail twitches uselessly, but there is no effect. It seems that in the wake of the eclipse you have traded one magic for another, but I cannot help but admire your new ability more. It fits you- you who are the flame that flickers and fades but is always warm.

My hooves, cleft and sharp, dig into the sand as she waits for my reply. You look up at me adoringly, perhaps still in awe that we have found each other, perhaps apologetic for the burn. But I pay neither any mind- my emotions are dulled even now, it will take some time, likely when we are alone, for me to come to terms with it all. "Perhaps, but at least I am free," I muse with a flicker of a long lion tail and a shake of a blood red mane. "We are allies, you and I- enemies of each others enemies, with similar vendettas and a pair of cold hearts, even if mine rests more still," he began slowly, chewing his words and feeling the organs within him live and churn, "I could do so much for you now." My ears swivel towards her and await a reply, and my powerful figure shifts as muscles turn towards her. My eyes are empty, my soul is empty- but still I stare, and still I wait with a softly beating heart for her to fully understand the meaning of my words.


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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#4


Hers were vague memories, it was true, but they were memories nonetheless, and they did not include the horrific appendages fixed so haphazardously to the brute's shoulders. It was with a mixture of disgust and curiosity that she examined them now, her orbs conveying no emotion as she stared, unabashed. He was a magnificent specimen, that she would freely admit, even marred as he was now by the ugly wings upon his back. And he had been her ally, once, before his affliction, as she chose to think of it, had come to light. Had he always had the wings that marked him now as a traitor of sorts, or were they a new addition to his bodice? "...I am free," he said, and something dark passed briefly over her gaze.

He continued to speak, jumping straight to the point and offering no semblance of small talk. Allies, now? How could it be so? Even if she were to accept his help, she could never bring him into her herd, into her organization. They would slaughter her where she stood. She had fought, hard, to continue the legacy that the FrostHeart had left her, a herd that only allowed those with a pure lineage and a marked brow to enter their ranks. She would not easily allow her battles to go to waste. And how would he help her? What did he have that she did not have amongst her brethren? Or did he have a means for her escape?

She hated questions.

"It is true that we share enemies," she began, wary of his offer. "But I fear that we must also share ideals, should we forge any alliance, you and I." And she did not think he shared hers, he with his afterthought wings. Where had they come from? Did it even matter? They were there now; how could she simply ally herself with one so marked? Well, it couldn't hurt to hear his terms, now, could it? "What do you have to offer me, Dead Walker?" She could not remember his name.

[W/C | ---]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.


Prometheus Posts: 75
Up For Adoption atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 8.2 / 16.3 :: 4 months / 6 years [Immortal] HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Pyr :: Siberian Tiger :: Hypnotize & Flaming Touch Adoptable
#5


We have grown so old- was it really not so long ago that we were young and carefree? You were but a cub and I but a colt. Times were simple then. But I suppose they have never been truly simple. Not with love as distant a thing as life, not as care as foreign as my own memory. I build myself on lies and selfish advancement. There is no instinct belonging to the dead, no reflexes left in the rotting corpse of a child. I may stand as a stallion and fold my blood-earned wings tight to my sides, I may feel a heart thud against my chest and vibrate through my bones, but I will never be alive.

Never again. And oh, what a brilliant thought that is! For to be forever dead is to be forever strong, lacking the lesser weaknesses to which mortals foolishly cling. I look on into the distance, watching for the horizon to set on fire, wondering when the world will end and leave me standing alone. It is the mare's words that take me back to now and draw me closer to the mortal reality. Her eyes have crossed my wings too often now for them to not reach the topic of conversation.

Racist fool. She sees nothing beyond my image, smells nothing but the purity of one's blood. Still, if I am to appease her in any fashion I must sacrifice something, even if it is just in the form of a lie. "Do not hesitate upon these wings, Psyche. They are a curse made manifest, brought to rest upon my shoulders by the Sun God on the day of his return; I desired them no more than you wish to lay your head upon this sand at night," I whisper smoothly, taking a few careful steps closer to her. "But as dreadful as the weight may be, it is useful in its own way. Like this I am less of a suspect, particularly on this turf from which I have been outcasted. My crimes against the Sultana and her kin are many, some tailored against their race," I begin with a steady, cold blink of blinding eyes and a smooth, undetectable lie, "and others for their wasted breath." My tail, long and waving steadily like yours, does not betray my impatience. Instead my muscles churn as I step forward once more, and my mane is tossed to reveal precious skin beneath it. A short cropped coat and my body of a handsome warmblood aim to draw her in; perhaps to entrance her.

My words are but a breath, fueled by the confidence displayed so clearly upon your features as you sit in quiet contemplation. "We can offer you freedom," I murmur, longing to feel your own emotion backing up my words and buttressing my thoughts. I know you will obey, that all I need to do is ask for you to light the earth with your own touch and under cover of smoke we could part. I know that you would die here alone to let us leave, and I know that I would not let you. But with absolute certainty, I understand that the three of us will walk tonight.


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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
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Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#6


She did not trust him, but then, she trusted very few. He had been one of hers, once - had he changed so very much from the steed that she had known, however briefly, then? Or, a better question, had she changed so very much from who she had once been? To the former, she had no answer; and to the latter, an answer she knew all too well. She had changed, more so than she cared to admit. She had never known the stallion, not really, and so if he had changed, it would be imperceptible to her. And so it was left to him to make a new impression, one that mirrored the old, one that reassured her that he was not just some strange enigma, once-unicorn, now-hybrid (or something?).

Skin stretches over a muscular form as he moves closer, and the shadow-mare was distracted, for a moment, by the picturesque strength that his form suggested. She would have loved to invite a healthy, strong unicorn stallion to join her ranks, even if he did not share her exact beliefs. Provided he would not track filth into her lands, she would permit him to stay, he and his companion. But he had wings now, and even if she should invite him, how would her brethren feel about his arrival? They would not speak kind words to her, though she would have cared little previously. But she had changed in ways based on necessity, and now she had to think of such things.

"Do not hesitate upon these wings, Psyche." So he caught her staring. Well, she figured that he would. Only an idiot would have missed her obvious preoccupation. "They are a curse made manifest, brought to rest upon my shoulders by the Sun God on the day of his return; I desired them no more than you wish to lay your head upon this sand at night." The question was whether or not he spoke the truth. He had no reason to lie, she reasoned. He had no reason to help her. So why was he? He would know of her hatred of the winged and the hornless. And yet, he offered to help her, despite his recent mutilation. What did he want from her? What did he seek?

Revenge. It was a whisper in her mind, a coy little voice that echoed into the corners of her whirring mind. He wanted, of course, what they all wanted. Their goals were one and the same; they were on the same side of this battle. The Time God had been specific in his command that they remain apart from the remainder of Helovia, but he had said nothing about alliances with outcasts, loners, banished from the other herdlands. "Such a curse is a terrible fate," she offers, an emotionless form of sympathy. "But then, I suppose you would make the best of it, wouldn't you? You offer me help - what would you have me give in return?"

[W/C | ---]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.


Prometheus Posts: 75
Up For Adoption atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 8.2 / 16.3 :: 4 months / 6 years [Immortal] HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Pyr :: Siberian Tiger :: Hypnotize & Flaming Touch Adoptable
#7


A laugh. It hits the desert air, sprung from betwixt my own delicate lips and received by you as my company. You purr in slight amusement, your wild eyes sparkle at the understanding of my emotion even as it moves separate from you, and I can almost feel your laughter in response. The dark mare before us is foolish and thick; we should not need to make ourselves clear.

"I thought I made my goals plain; Kri and her kin deserve no more of this world's air. She alone has sinned enough for the rest of them, it would be a joy to see her blood on these sands," I murmur with a faint, longing tone infiltrating each word as it is spoken. "But it is easier to dream of revenge than seek it. Until her end, I would instead satisfy myself with a place among your ranks. I could be useful to your herd, young as it may be," I add with a tilt of my majestic head.

My warmblood build seems to fight against the wind here. This was never my home, just as the chains I wielded were never truly something I deserved. But nonetheless, I had them both. Now it was time to find something new, even if that meant ingratiating myself to this racist mare and her idiotic ideals.

I let my tail trace lines in the sand, and you follow along with your firm paw. My eyes, reduced to glowing, ivory orbs, watch you with a curious fascination. Your lines form pictures, your mind is put to the page of the earth. Funny that I've never considered you a creative soul- how much time I lost with you, how much I forced aside. A sad fate, but one I brought upon myself; one well deserved. But redemption will come, and with it , perhaps, the reforging of our bond. I turn to the mare, watch her with blinding eyes, and speak once more."I've built and crashed many a ship before; should you require my services and lack one already, I could take on the role of a crafter," I offer with surprising sincerity. It is a promise, one that she need only to accept. What forced loyalty I may have possessed for the Dragon's Throat would pale in comparison to what I could do for this new land and its beasts.

[[Sorry for the wait- exams]]


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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#8


He laughs, and the shadow-mare watches, emotionless. What is funny, she is unsure. He does not answer her question, not really - he would offer assistance destroying the Throat in return, simply, for a home? It does not seem to make sense, and she wonders if he, perhaps, has ulterior motives. A hot wind kicks up, spitting dirt into her face, grinding it harshly into her waving banner. She feels rough here, as though she has been rubbed raw by the very ground beneath her hooves. She wants to go home, and she is sure that she will soon. How, she does not know. But she will. And when she leaves, she can offer the stallion a place, should she choose to.

But how would her kin take it? He had wings, after all, and she had carried on Mauja's legacy of a herd only of the horned. He called it a curse, and a curse it may well be, but would it sit well with those she served, those who served her (which way was it, really?)? She doubted that they would be accepting of her latest addition, but then, the Time God had said her word was law. And he could not help being cursed. He offered himself as a crafter; it was a position she had yet to fill. Perhaps it would be a folly not to take him.

She had been silent for too long. But his offer sounds sincere, and she could use him. Perhaps. "When I return home," she began, speaking as though she had simply taken a vacation, "you may join me in the Basin. There, we may discuss your role, though your skills would be greatly appreciated, regardless." It pains her to admit it, but it is something she must do. It is also as much of an invitation as she will extend, as torn as she is about the decision to do so.

[OOC | Yuck. :| ]

[W/C | ---]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.

[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Prometheus Posts: 75
Up For Adoption atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 8.2 / 16.3 :: 4 months / 6 years [Immortal] HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Pyr :: Siberian Tiger :: Hypnotize & Flaming Touch Adoptable
#9


One last chuckle and a grin fall across my features as the mare goes on. So it seems we've succeeded, old friend. And in good time, as well- her words melt away and the silence of the desert overtakes us quickly. Night is approaching quickly, and I must away to plan the Dark Empress' escape. My body stretches like a cat's, and my hooves dig into the soft earth, I long to run, run far from her so that I might spread my wings and feel the air beneath them. It will be some time before I learn to fly properly, but until then I can enjoy the potential for freedom.

Freedom to take to the air and see with my own eyes the creatures that I despise so much- oh what a great day it will be! You may miss me below, but I will always stay close. And as for our bond, well... this silence will not last forever- can not. Should the gods try to keep us apart, I will return to them with an anger more foul than any they've seen before. For I am not a mortal, and thus I am not bound to mortal constraints. I am wicked and uniquely so, with the potential for far more. Just as my wings will lift me, my undead spirit allows me to ascend.

To ascend, but never to heaven. I have missed my chance at heaven. For a moment the thought seems a melancholy, reminiscent one, but it is gone in an instant. I lift my head high and nod to Psyche clearly before turning. "Very well then, Empress. Expect a rescue party when the dawn breaks in two days hence," I say as I depart, letting my lion's tail trail behind me without any effort. The sand beneath my hooves turns to earth and my body turns to a child's- I am effortlessly undead, dripping with stale blood and yet walking unhindered. My wings, reduced to bones, extend to caress the air. In my wake you follow ever faithful- follow even as I run. Follow even as I leap forward and take flight for the first time in my half life.



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[Image: siggy1_zpsfwdjquxw.png]
please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.


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