the Rift


Sentinel on the Cliff | Ysuelte

Torasin Posts: 132
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 8
imi
#1

Torasin stood by the stone sculpture, it's frigid presence like a banner one would stick in the ground to claim territory and victory. Decorations from previous visitors adorned it's mutated appearance as Kiba sat on a stone limb in a pensive mood. His painted bonded looking on in concern, their communication severed by a moon misplaced leaving the world silent. Torasin had never realized just how much he spent living in a sea of talking, the constant presence of his companion had been much welcome and easy to get used to that it now seemed completely unreal to hear absolutely nothing. They both looked out across the wild sea, a wind grabbing at his pale mane and ravaging it.

The herd was quiet as peace among peers set in, the lull of war and a slow rise to power. Mirage had been taken by their enemy and her presence had disappeared from the Edge. Torasin didn't know what to do, where to go, others had left to save her. He wanted to go, to find Solstice as well, but who would guard the borders? Lace was a fine stallion and with him gone to find their leader it was up to the gilded friend of many seasons to watch over her lands, protect her comrades and keep the peace they had worked so hard to gain. It was tough, but everyone knew the boy was best when saving lives than taking them, a heart so kind and open did not kill easy. That being said they both would not hesitate to fight should it arise, the fires of his brown would light up the sky in warning to all, should such a problem arise.

Kiba trilled a low sad chime, eyes desolate in his struggle to find his bonded's mind. To fill it with joy and the images of dance, to chirp songs and scream danger. Tail hung limp down twisted statue and wings were uncharacteristically folded.


made by kukulein.deviantart.com

Yseulte Posts: 68
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize roni
#2
[Image: ysueltetable.png]

yseulte*




She'd always thought the Shrine rather ugly.

And so naturally, like all unusual and out-of-the-ordinary things, she loved it. Padding through the soft wraiths of pale mist, she's rather surprised to see a figure hovering near the massive structure. Yseulte often lingers near this area of the sheer cliffs to watch the churning sea below while brainstorming crafting possibilities, and most importantly, she comes her to avoid thinking too much.

It's mid-morning, and so there is still a frigid chill lingering in the air and she suddenly longs for the warmth of the bonfires, but knows she will never go near them again. She shudders inwardly at the thought of the tongues of flame, writhing and twisting like a thousand serpents all cast in one pit. She despises fire and the destruction it can cause, and yet has an insatiable hunger to control it, like her father and grand-mother before her. Every day, she must resist the heavy temptation to journey where the Gods' touch lingers, and every day, it is a terrible struggle.

But for now, she distracts herself by pacing towards the stranger, who she very soon recognizes as Torasin, the gentle healer of World's Edge. She did not know him other than a brief "hello" at the bonfires during the herd gathering in the dead cold of Frostfall, but she had recently met his sons. Sweet children. She stops by his side, always uncertain what to say in a situation like this.

His children, they have the same kind, warm eyes. And she notices, like Lace, he and his scaly companion are somber and hollow-eyed. She wilts a little bit inside—everything has been as listless gray as the sea since she's been here. Little happiness is to be found among the residents of the Edge and Yseulte can only stand awkwardly on the outside looking in, experiencing none of the pain and sadness these loyal Edge dwellers suffer. She is not the comforting sort, and so doesn't waste her time and his pretending everything is going to be okay.

She can't comfort, but perhaps she can distract.

In one of her brave, random impulses, she scoops up a last bit of spring snow-slush in her mouth, and then flings it at his neck before wheeling away, peels of laughter rippling from her lips like a bubbling spring. Her eyes have a wicked, playful glint to them, daring him to retaliate.

apprentice craftsman of the edge,


ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.

Torasin Posts: 132
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 8
imi
#3

Something cold slaps against his golden neck and trickles down, two pools of green slowly widening in surprise. So deeply lost in thought he didn't even notice her presence until the aptly timed snowball. Kiba, however, was already airborne and preparing to exact revenge for him. Leathery wings flapping as he whisked a long tail downwards and flicked a trail of snow at the vibrant coloured Ysuelte. Trilling in playful spirit, his apparent dreariness lost in childish frolic as he awaited her next move. Torasin turned to see the craftsmen's apprentice standing before him, her lips curled into a wicked smile. Like a filly daring a colt to chase her for a moment in her embrace, this was his first time meeting Ysuelte properly. Brief nods and greetings in gatherings were all the contact they'd had. So it was with curiousty and a playful tilt of his head that Torasin regarded the blue taffy.

"You're a little outnumbered ma'am" he replied in his customary polite tones and gentlemanly curtsies. He watched her back dance away and he took moved into a stalking prance, lowering his head to the ground and flicking a clump of icy slush at her rear. Laughing and bolting to the side, Kiba merrily dancing with him with trills and chirps of delight. Finally they had found something to distract if only for a minute or two, Ysuelte had done an admirable job in her bold move.

Kiba ducked and flew up again, turning to lithe mare and sounded his challenge. A taunt. He knew she wouldn't be able to hear it. Nor would Torasin. Yet he said it anyway, daring in his every note.

"Catch me if you can!"


made by kukulein.deviantart.com

Yseulte Posts: 68
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize roni
#4
[Image: ysueltetable.png]

yseulte*




The little dragon retaliated faster than she managed to flee through the spring slush, and a thread of snow splattered across her shoulder. The shock of the cold and ice caused her to shriek with indignation, and before she could charge after the little brown, he was suddenly floating on a breeze overhead, trilling and teasing at her. Yseulte snorted with amusement and frustration, unable to do anything but pace the ground below the whir of leather wings as if she were a cat stalking a flitting sparrow.

She glanced at Torasin, wondering what expression she might find lingering on his gentle face, or if she would find one at all. Such a brooding, dark expression did not fit the stallion's light features and so she was glad to see his green eyes glittering with mischief, although she couldn't understand why. After being alone for so long, she'd become so wrapped up in her own survival and well-being, it was no longer in her nature to care for others. Selfish. Cruel. Savage. Those three words caused her throat to seize up uncomfortably, and she wondered if she was becoming the person she loved and despised the most.

Her father.

And how long had it been since she'd last played? Many seasons. Years, even. It was Finn who introduced her to the concept of "play", and she remembered splashing in the stream beneath the willow trees in the gentle meadow, chasing shining minnows and wading through the shallows to overturn rocks with their soft noses to gape and squeal at the disgusting slugs beneath. But even then, her tentative friendship with the boy named Finn was short-lived. A monster stole him away from her.

"So it would seem," she agreed, tilting her head and peering at him beneath her long eyelashes with a devilish grin. She glanced towards the trees for a fleeting moment, an idea striking her just as suddenly as the slush slapped against her rear. Yseulte kicked up her heels with a start and then shook her body thoroughly, her white-blonde hair shining bright and cold in the morning light. "What's a poor girl to do...two against one." She pursed her lips to avoid smirking, and took off towards the cover of the trees, intending to even the playing field.

The score was two to one. This was unacceptable.

apprentice craftsman of the edge,


ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.


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