J E R I C H O
a hero is born from a soul that's forgotten
Jericho had never been good at flying.
But today, having wandered alone into one of the most beautiful places he'd ever seen, the young stallion thought he might give it a shot. The wide open fields that were beyond even the clouds reminded him of his home in Janat, but beauty alone could not erase the ugly memories of his homeland. He was glad to be away from the hateful Pegasus he'd looked up to as his family, save for his mother, who had loved him despite his dark coat and lack of another pair of wings...
Shaking those thoughts away, the Thoroughbred focused on what lie ahead of him. It was a wide open field, free of any hazardous obstacles that might get in his way. It was strange that a Pegasus such as himself would be so unskilled in the art of flying, and one might be confused to learn that he had walked the whole way here. While he did not mind the feet beneath his ground in the least, he tried his best to avoid all other Pegasus in fear of ridicule. Today, though... He would try and cure himself of his lack of skill.
"Alright, Jericho, you can do this!" The black dun tried to reassure himself, and lifted his head high as he examined the wide open space before him. Pulling his wings away from his sides, the stallion spread them, taking a deep breath before taking off into a dead run. Ever so hesitantly, and only when he felt the time was right, did he sweep the tri-colored wings downwards to pull himself up into the air. His hooves left the ground and increased in distance within seconds. A brief look down, and a great discomfort settled in the stallion's chest. Never had he been taught the proper mechanics of flight; he had learned everything he knew by trial and error, but repeated failures had rendered the dun admittedly afraid of the whole idea of flight.
Still, he tried whenever he could, whenever he found himself alone without prying eyes.
"I'm... actually doing it?" He asked in his head, and just as the smallest of grins began to pull at his lips, the warmest of spring breeze's blew, catching the young Pegasus by surprise and breaking his focus. In a panic, his wings flapped to try and keep himself airbourne, but it only aided in his ultimate demise. In seconds he was hurdling towards the ground, which really wasn't that far away, and crashed into it with a loud thump. A groan sounded from the dun, and although achy, he lifted his head to give a dramatic huff. His wings lay splayed out at his sides in defeat. "I thought I was doing good," the Pegasus murmured to himself, his pride hurt more than anything else.
Pulling his feathered wings back in to his sides, Jericho got back up to his feet and gave a shake of his body, riding himself of the dirt that had collected as a result of the crash. Would he try again? Or would he simply give up for today and head home?
![[Image: Jericho-1.png]](http://i1308.photobucket.com/albums/s609/camaroblues/Jericho-1.png)
|
|
S h u l e r
The best lies about me are the ones I told.
|
Shuler had been traveling south, departing the hidden oasis of the Basin and trekking down through the mountain pass in an impulsive moment of restlessness, a fleeting, golden shadow amongst the last remains of snow that still linger in the wake of Frost fall’s departure. While he enjoyed the secluded shelter that the hidden valley within the folds of the mountain provided, Shuler was an inquisitive creature, and the wild beckoned him away again. There were things to observe, places to be, individuals to meet. Or watch, from a distance. The amount of information available simply by the process of distanced analysis was near limitless. There was no doubt he would return with something valuable for Psyche and the Plague, nothing escaped him.
The Heavenly Fields rose up out of the fog and mists of the high elevations, Shuler picked his way carefully up the mountain side, navigating the path with practiced, fluid steps, his lithe frame graceful as he continued on his way. Indifference veils him in a shadow of unknowns and uncertainties, golden-brown eyes alight with nothing but vague ambiguity, all for the purpose of remaining hidden in the background, another unimportant figure among the masses, just passing through. The cloak of mist that had shrouded his immediate vision began to clear, the fields of lore that rested atop the mountain coming into view, patches of spring grass growing and thickening in consistency as he moved toward the meadows heart. Sun breaks through beautiful, cumulous clouds that scatter the sky, rays of light bouncing and reflecting off the greenery, casting it across the dun’s coat with a golden sheen that almost seems to make him glow. He is an aureate figure in an emerald world.
He stops, casually, strides shortening, slowing, and he grabs a leisurely mouth of grass as he peruses the meadow’s perimeter. That’s when he sees him, the dark, winged boy with the all too bright ivory locks of hair that are haphazardly skewed against the inky black of his skin by the wayward wind. Shuler’s eyes narrow in scrutiny, not missing the wings that rest upon the stranger’s back, it is a sight that sends an instinctive sigh of distaste past his lips. But what interests the golden unicorn more than the fact that he has stumbled upon the winged creature in the first place, is that he cannot seem to fly at all. Shuler stops, still a fair distance away, close enough to be noticed if the fellow was paying any attention, but he does not speak. He watches the stranger struggle for a moment, his expression bored and uninterested, despite the mischievous bemusement he harbored in his thoughts.
|
 |
Image Credits. Made by Ali.<3
J E R I C H O
a hero is born from a soul that's forgotten
The more and more that Jericho looked out across the open field, the more that the young stallion found himself yearning for the feeling of nothing beneath his feet. While he had grown used to being earth bound, and held no qualms about it, he wanted to know if his views would be the same if his skills were sharpened. But would anyone even have the patience for him? For all the mistakes he would surely make, and all the questions he would ask?
With a haggard sigh, the dun found his confidence quickly deflating, if he'd even had any to begin with. Flying had become a trivial thing to him, and if it were to remain as such for the rest of his life, then so be it. He could be just as useful with all four hooves planted firmly on the ground.
It was when Jericho turned around that his copper eyes landed on the shining figure in the distance. The black horn protruding from the other's forehead made his species obvious, and with his interest suddenly heightened, the Pegasus took a step closer, but then hesitated. He was not racist himself, but already he had heard rumors of those that didn't hold the same morals as he... Would this be one of them? A quick once over of the unicorn and he could tell that the male was shorter than him, and probably older. The golden stallion was quiet, looking on in clear boredom. Had he been watching?
Suddenly, a great fear overcame Jericho, and subconsciously he folded his wings in closer to his side. How embarassing! "Oh, gosh," he finally spoke up, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, "Did you see that? I, uhh..." The ebony boy trailed off then, shifting where he stood, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Quickly he looked back to the unicorn, and hoped that maybe, he could simply switch the subject away from his ultimate failure just seconds ago. "My name is Jericho," he tried instead, "Who are you?"
|
|
S h u l e r
The best lies about me are the ones I told.
|
Harmless. This is the summation Shuler’s observations arrive at as he watches the young stallion walk through the process of his own realization. He can see the gears tick and whir in the boys head as their eyes meet, and Shuler does not miss the panicked look of insecurity that shrouds the dark Pegasus as he comprehends that his failed attempt had been watched. It would not comfort him to know that it was already cataloged and neatly tucked away into the vast depths of Shuler’s precise and detailed cognizance. The golden phantom’s ears pivot atop his head in lethargic attentiveness, painting a picture of insignificant whimsy. Let him think he would not remember him, every word, and every stutter, every flaw and fault.
“My name is Jericho, who are you?”
What an excellent question that was. Who was he? It was a question that often remained unanswered in the dun unicorn’s mind, an inquiry of the most trivial sort that required too much dedication and solidarity for his liking. Defining and confining oneself to a certain set of traits or standards irrevocably erased one’s ability to remain invisible, unseen, ever changing and adapting as they needed, unbound by trifling things like morals, ethics, and feelings. Shuler was anything and everything; a humble servant to a righteous cause, or a shrewd trickster and conniving thief. Best friend, ally, enemy, or traitor. Whatever role fate called for, he would fill it gladly. He found comfort in the ability to change on a whim, to create familiarity in the midst of a lie, a serpent of the slyest variety.
"Whoever you want me to be, I suppose.” Shuler replied in cryptic, quiet tones, words laced with sincerity. He closed the distance between himself and the Pegasus then, movements confident and structured, an opposite reflection of the uncertainty and ungainliness that haunted this young stranger in front of him. Shuler halted in front of Jericho, gold eyes dark and faintly curious as they peer expectantly from beneath a veil of his ebony forelock, split down the middle by the gleaming, barbed horn that rests upon his brow.
"Pardon me, but you do seem a bit out of place.” Shuler mused aloud, dark tail flicking against golden flanks. "A long way from home, perhaps?”
|
|
Image Credits. Made by Ali.<3
J E R I C H O
a hero is born from a soul that's forgotten
The dun's answer was unlike anything Jericho had been expecting to hear. Sure, he didn't know anything about the older stallion standing before him, except for what he looked like, and if he wouldn't speak up and answer him properly... Well, his name would be Jeffery, and he was enigma to Jericho.
When the other stepped forward, closing the gap that was between them, the Pegasus took notice to the deliberate, purposeful steps that this newly dubbed Jeffery took, and the way his eyes shined with that same look of boredom from earlier. This put Jericho in even more discomfort, and whether he knew it or not, he shifted his wings closer to his side. That barbed horn sitting atop the dun's head was impressive, glinting a shine of light at a certain angle. If this stranger decided to attack, he knew he would be at more than one disadvantage. Obviously, this stranger knew that he was no expert flyer, and while he had the advantage of longer legs, it was no secret that Jericho was not the most graceful of creatures.
'Pardon me, but you do seem a bit out of place. A long way from home, perhaps?'
A glance to the side, and Jericho swallowed the lump that had unwillingly grown in his throat. "No, not really," he admitted after a moment, "The Foothills are just past the mountains, and that is where I call home." This other stallion's piercing gaze was beginning to toy with Jericho's nerves, but somehow, he managed to keep all hour hooves planted firmly on the ground as he formed his own question.
"What about you? Where do you call home?"
|
|
S h u l e r
The best lies about me are the ones I told.
|
"The Foothills are just past the mountains, and that is where I call home."
Shuler appraises the Pegasus with amber-gold eyes, contrived curiosity giving him the appearance of a cordial, pleasant stranger enjoying a passing conversation. He is listening though, more so than the young Pegasus might have first thought. Shuler's calculative, crafty mind is already assessing the possibilities, considering the options. The dark, devious shadow of opportunity suddenly looms, ominous and slavering like a hungry wolf in the abyss of Shuler’s malicious thoughts. He is hidden beneath the pleasantness of his expression, the seemingly soft and welcoming look bore with benevolence constructed of lies and falsified with seemingly good intentions. What could this malleable, seemingly insecure young individual of the Foothills Herd do for him? What advantages could Shuler take, what whispers of darkness could he leak into this Jericho’s thoughts, what stains could he cast to taint the obvious luminescence of his innocence?
"Forgive my manners." Shuler holds the young boys gaze, his eyes unwavering and commanding in their intensity, their insistence, "I am Shuler. I come from the lands north of here, but don’t mind me, I’m simply another insignificant individual amongst many others."
While he speaks, something in the air changes and the golden stallion can feel the tendrils of his magic as he calls them up from the fiery pit of his soul, sends them stretching, reaching, crawling out to the ebony and ivory painted creature before him. Shuler smiles, a leisurely, reassuring grin of the content, and he takes another step closer toward the younger stallion, his affability a pleasant radiance that surrounds him. He dips his head and watches Jericho carefully, honey hued eyes ever observent, captivating in their concentration, veiled by thin strands of a dark forelock that falls haphazardly across his façade. Shuler focuses on the connection he now feels between himself and the Pegasus, his concentration molding, melding and meshing it into something stronger, nurturing it into vivacity, until he can feel the edges of the young stallions mind as if it were his own.
"I would like to think of you as my friend, Jericho.” The golden phantom muses, his voice a baritone trill of lyrical intonation, "I would hope that you would think of me as a friend too, yes?”
He lays the foundation for fabrications and falsehoods to configure the temple of corruption where his intentions lie, and Shuler wants his earnest offerings of camaraderie and company to shroud Jericho’s thoughts, erase any idea of doubt or unease from his cognizance, replacing them with the fictitious fantasy of amiability that he has played the part of thus far. Talk of keeping your friends close, but enemies closer, had never been so accurate. Shuler has felt the tremors of violence amongst the people of Helovia, and he has herd talse and rumors of the disquiet and discontent that now spreads amongst the herds like wildfire. Leaders are being usurped, unhappiness prowling like the destructive predator it is, and everyone is out to accomplish their own means to an end, some trying to prevent the possibility of bloodshed, others trying to start it. The value of having individuals who trusted you unquestioningly would be priceless by the time things were set into motion, and Shuler intended to be the one who others could turn to, confide in resolutely, if not for the gain of Psyche and the Plague, than for himself.
He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, patiently waiting to strike.
"I fear the disturbance that seems to be spreading across Helovia, brother, if you have noticed it.” The utmost despair and concern is visible in Shuler’s softened expression, the warmth of his voice on the still air, sincerity and earnestness apparent in the fierce glow of his eyes as he continues to watch Jericho. Beneath the mask he smirks and sneers, internally laughing like a child laughs as they burn ants into the ground with their magnifying glass, already knowing that they too shall pass into oblivion. "Do the Foothills fare well? I can only hope that the rumors of discord and discontent are talk and nothing else.”
Let Jericho think he has found a friend in Shuler, someone tolerant even. Someone to tell of all his worries and all his fears. Never mind that just beneath the surface a hatred seethes, rages and boils. He is a snake, coiled and black and dangerous, hidden in the crevices of his own malevolence, the poison of abhorrence coursing through his veins. |
|
Image Credits. Made by Ali.<3
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
