| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Jen |
image by deadair @ flickr.com</style>
round up all the pieces, but they just don't fit the same.</style>
Young Stallion walks what feels like empty halls. his constant companion and only friend trails behind, but her steps are delicate, her gaze is wary. The pair do not belong here, not so soon after Knox's quest to blind. What a capacity it has; to hinder before the kill, to hide from one the most gruesome tragedy of their life, to conceal the face of the killer. What he has done with his magic was wretched and foul, but what he has done to others... that is his greatest sin.
He still feels the thick coating of blood over some parts of his body. He has not washed since the murder, has not felt the need. Cleansing himself in body will not cleanse his mind. He is impure, he has been ever since drinking his own father's blood. He is not entirely himself, he feels as if he is a beast possessed. Possessed by the past, by its manifestations in his mind and action.
Has the curse of a soulless beast carried on in him? No, he has a soul. A hidden one, one that lies quiet in its deep, pitch, and rank cell. It is a compliant prisoner, one that has long since ceased to dream of escape. It rattles in the chest of a monster, discontented but too tired to show it.
Manhattan scouts ahead reluctantly, wanting to protect her master but also fearing for her own life. The bond between them is shattered for a time by some unknown force, and it leaves a hole where her dear stallion had once resided. She fears she is losing him ever still as his eyes glaze over with a blessed blindness and he overtakes her as he walks slowly towards the shrine of the Moon. The wicked sister of the gods that Manhattan suspects of foul play; the one he has chosen to love.
The night air plays across their figures and toys with the stallion's mane, which grows long and wild. He does not speak, he waits. Waits with his only friend resting beside him, yet still alone.
[[Knox seeks: Dark Magic | The ability to shapeshift into his ancestors using the magic in his bridle. His bridle would turn black upon usage, and he could shapeshift into any that once wore it, which includes the stallions on his father's side for generations. The shift is painful at first, and the longer he occupies one form, the more painful it is to leave it. He retains his own consciousness no matter what form he is in. As the bridle is the center of his power, should it be removed, the power would weaken to a flickering illusion overlaid over his own form until he can put it back on.(Optional/Editable)]]
knox</style>
& manhattan</style> |
| Helovian Ancient |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.2hh :: Ageless |
| Admin |
A mist, thick and shimmering like a blanket begins to fill the space. Moonlight dances upon the fog as it embraces the pair, guiding them up the steps to the shrine where the silvery clouds begin to take shape. The figure, feminine and lithe, is without a doubt the Goddess of the Moon, beautiful and frightful for she holds the magic of all things wicked and cruel. She is a stunning blasphemy, a creature too perfect to be the ruler of such darkness. And yes, she rules it well, perhaps because of a darkness on her own soul, but none can see it; she keeps everything well hidden behind a layer of honey-sweet words and delicate touches.
Blood was a satisfying scent on the young colt whom she blinded not so long ago, and he had grown into a handsome specimen. Perhaps she would have more use for him yet, and she took her final shape, the deep lavender of her pelt and the silver of her hair solidifying. She approached with an alluring step that was too natural to be gaudy, but it was bordering on that line. The Goddess stopped, mere breaths away from the boy.
"You desire power in those who have passed before you," she murmured quietly. "Why?" She was always curious about the reasons of mortals, for it often gave her clues into how to grant the magic they desired.
"Hm... I accept this request to take on the shapes of your forefathers, but in return, you must do something for me." She spoke this words most naturally, but what the Goddess requested was not normally a walk in the Thistle Meadow. "Go now and fetch me a bone from your father's body. I know you know where you left it..." she trailed, a smirk on her lips. "Then, go to Mandrake. Have her claws etch the bone in her other form."
"Return to be when this is done."
|
 |
| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Jen |
image by deadair @ flickr.com</style>
round up all the pieces, but they just don't fit the same.</style>
Young stallion would have been a fool to deny her. She stands before him with unmatched beauty and a wicked grace that only the shadows themselves can understand. She stands before him the most wonderful thing he has ever seen. His knees hit the earth shatteringly quickly, lending him a slight shudder of pain as he willfully falls, but a warming sensation of being where he belongs. In his troubled times he looks towards the moon, the same moon that blinds him and lets him see as he needs- what he needs. Her gifts are grand and innumerable, ones to treasure and keep safe.
Manhattan is concerned- her young brow furrows, her tail curls slightly between her legs. Her master's devotion seems ill-acquired. Her master's love, sent so far from she... it is only the breaking of the bond, she comforts herself with. She has not yet lost him. Not yet. But the feeling grows as his eyes glaze to silver and he bows his head. He thinks he is unworthy of the Goddess' grace; Manhattan thinks him worthy of the world.
But Knox knows nothing of Manhattan's dreams for him. Her hopes that someday he will rise above what circumstance has forced him to become- heartless, cold. He seeks a warmth, but only to let him sleep at night. Something to even out the kills of the day and the love that's been lost. He seeks it now, kneeling before the Goddess of the night. The very same Goddess that speaks to him now, and asks of him a simple question.
There is no hesitation in the reply, only consideration. He would be a fool to interrupt her, but one all the same to leave her query unanswered. And so he waits, waits until the task is given with care that he does not yet comprehend. And then, he speaks into the silence.
"I have heard tales of my forefathers- great ones," he begins, lifting his head to look on with sightless eyes. "Tales of valiance and love; of crusaders and revolutionaries. To be them... I hope to be them will someday be to know them, and to know their passion." He lets his gaze turn down and away, towards Manhattan's place beside him, steadfast. She is a love, but a love lost. He does not feel her now in the cold of a birdsong night. His fathers were great, regardless of their shape. Johnny just as brave as the Sentinel, the phooka just as fearsome as the lion. "The night is cold, great Goddess of the Moon. I only hope their bodies might warm me in the darkest hours."
He rises then, slowly and with hesitation, wondering if he should have waited for her command. Then again, her command to return seems dismissive enough. "Thank you, I will do as you require," Knox answers faithfully. The draft dips his head, but does not return his sight. He has fallen from here once and won't do it again. He knows his way now in the darkest of nights- has Manhattan to guide him and the wind to pull him home. Whatever home is anymore.
[[Technical questions due to Alex choosing a complex magic like a problem maker- will he retain his blinding magic while in other forms or lose it, with the explanation of he can't use them both at once? Is this upgradeable at all to include the very weakest forms of their magics as a part of their forms, or no? As for for form details (number, names, appearance, etc.), if I work out those and then send 'em to you for review is that okay?]]
knox</style>
& manhattan</style> |
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Ancestral Body [[Goddess of the Moon]]
