the Rift


Lift Me Higher | Midas

Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit
#1





Clear water was still as glass that dry morning, and Cera used it in quite the same fashion. He had been drawn to it, as he found he was quite a lot these days. Once gangly legs had finally straightened, and every day he seemed to shoot up farther towards he skies. No longer did he trip and go crashing over lengthy pillars he couldn’t control, though he would always retain a naturally clumsiness matching his boyish demeanor. Even so he remained tiny, skinny. Altogether frail and vulnerable- breakable. Cera had never thought of himself as this. Pain was a foreign concept to him, the horrors of the world hidden on the opposite side of the veil of innocence that covered his eyes. However ever since his violent confrontation with the demon in the woods, he had realized that he truly was prone to attack. He had been unable to defend himself in any fashion, though it wasn’t his fault. Somehow he knew this, but he found himself nearly glued to Midas after the incident. Sneaking away only to end up here, at the looking glass that kept them all alive. Staring down at himself, though never concentrating on his face. Familiar aspects were all blurred in his mind as he concentrated upon the badge he would wear for the rest of his mortal life. It was hardly fancy in any way. Jagged, long, and puckered. It stretched from one shoulder to the other at a slight angle, no longer red but a pinkish white.

Crushed green eyes stared down at this stripe along his chest, wings low and muscles loose. Ilaria rested between his shoulder blades, half dozing. His heart swelled with love as he thought of her, but even that could not dispel the dark cloud of thoughts that took over his head. Would anybody be able to meet him without having their eyes drop down to that scar? Would he ever be able to meet Mystique again and not be terrified of her reaction? Why had it happened to him? Were the Gods angry at him? He felt tainted, dirty. Every safety net had been burned out beneath him and he was terrified to ever leave the safety of home. D’Artagnan had taken more than a strip of his skin. He had taken every blanket of safety, had even taken away his ability to indulge in his favorite past time of exploring. Now, he found himself jumping and skittering away from every shadow and darkly painted stranger. Fearing the horns upon every crown he saw. It was an irrational fear, and though he told himself they would never hurt him he still ran from them before they even thought about turning his way. Cera knew he was being foolish, but he was already noticing the effects. Hardly able to bear Midas leaving anymore. Ever since Midas had quite literally taken him beneath his wing, Cera had understood that he had duties and that he wouldn’t be around a lot. He loved Midas, and accepted that. Never once complained, watching him leave with a smile and greeting him with affection. Always aware that he was tired and couldn’t play sometimes. But now, he had to fight himself in order to keep from screaming, crying, begging his father not to leave him alone. Cera was so frightened that d’Artagnan was going to return to finish the job, that Midas wouldn’t be there to save him once again. And who could he turn to? Bazilisk, his cherished mentor, had deserted them. It had left a welt along his heart, and it killed him to abandon his apprentice duties once again. Even so he continued to find metal, if only to sustain the dream that Bazilisk had passed on to him. The sketch of the wall remained permanently in his mind.

Mystique? No, he couldn’t drag her into it. He cherished her but didn’t want her to fear for him and certainly didn’t want her to become another target for d’Artagnan. Also internally afraid that he would fear her, as well, for having a horn upon her head. That thought sickened him, made him hate himself. Would his fears truly rule his friendships? Note? Cera adored Note, and more than once thought of turning to him. But no, he was busy anyways and didn’t seem as comfortable with Cera. Lynx? Cera swallowed a lump and remembered that he, too, had left the Throat. It hurt to know that everyone was leaving without ever giving him a goodbye, that they were leaving him at all. His young mind couldn’t comprehend the deeper reasoning behind their decisions, only knowing that they had left him without a backward glance. Sierra? She had been with him during the incident and he’d grown attached to her, but he didn’t know her very well either. That left Midas, his father. Cera desperately wanted to talk to him, reveal to him all these fears. In the end, he couldn’t. He still remembered how much pain he’d put Midas through, remembered how sore and pained he was after the dash to get him to a healer. It had been his fault that Midas had been in a fight, been in pain. If he hadn’t been out in the Deep Forest, he wouldn’t have involved Midas. Cera feared that Midas would try and change their routine to accommodate him, and Cera wouldn’t allow that. He knew that Midas loved his job, loved being a General. Cera could never ask him to give that up over a few fears. Also, deep down, he feared that Midas blamed him. It was never a thought that he had ever imagined he would entertain. He loved his father, and knew that his father loved him equally in return. But none of these thoughts were necessarily logical.

What if Midas thought he was ugly and disgusting because of his scar? What if he blamed him for having to go to so much trouble? What if he didn’t want such a troublesome son? Cera didn’t know the lengths a parent would go; he’d never encountered anything like this before. Ilaria stirred at his distress and her eyes blinked open. Emotions flowed through him through their bond, for she was unable to form words. Questioning if he was alright. Cera returned it with images of his scar, of Midas, of the enraged face he’d seen on his father in the forest. She pieced them together and pulled on his mane with her claws, reprimanding him. She was mature, far more than Cera and he found himself being at the receiving end of her corrections. Ilaria was like a stern sister, but she loved him and he loved her. Wincing slightly at the pull, he felt the disappointment through the bond and also the confusion that went through her. She still didn’t understand the complexity of emotions quite yet, but knew that Midas had never been upset with Cera. The cherub shot back at her the image of Midas wincing from his sore muscles, exhausted from his multiple uses of magic. Again followed by his angry face, followed by the mix of sadness and anxiety Cera felt at that possibility. Chittering she pulled on his mane again and love came through their bond like a wave. Ilaria didn’t know how else to respond to his sadness, and instead tried to comfort him through a display of her love for him. Overwhelmed, Cera collapsed into tears. Too many emotions were all cluttered up in a ball, and for some reason knowing Ilaria loved him unconditionally only broke him down from the strength he’d been showing in the past few days.

Midas was always strong, always so sure of his emotions. Cera didn’t want to worry him by crying or breaking down, so he acted strong for his father. But now it was all coming out again and he couldn’t handle all the emotions that suddenly assaulted him. He had never been so afraid of so many things. Had never had a reason to actually fear a person. Wrenching away from his reflection, he realized he couldn’t bear the thought that somebody- Midas especially- would find him ugly for the wretched thing. He felt odd and out of place, lonely. Ilaria cooed softly from his shoulder and he sent back the love she had given to him, trying to stop her from worrying. Turning and fleeing from the oasis. He couldn’t stare into his reflection any longer. Couldn’t see the haunted, tired eyes that had taken the place of the bright and innocent ones he had always had. Sleep didn’t come easily anymore, always afraid that the demon would come slinking from the shadows to kill him. Remembering the agony as the poison had seeped through his body. Ilaria clung to his mane and shoulders, used to moving along with him as he sprinted away from the water. Long pillars working hard until he was in a frenzy, sweat foaming a bit on his flanks and neck under the heat and the glare of the sun. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he hiccupped and huffed, trying to pull air into his lungs. Legs burned but he refused to stop, needing to do something physical to get away from his own thoughts. He felt like he was going insane, having no experience to compare it to. Didn’t know how to handle all of this. Quite literally trying to run from his fears as he pushed faster and faster, Ilaria cooing and clicking from his back worriedly; pulling at his mane and thumping her tail against his spine. He paid her no heed and slowed only when his legs began to tremble and he could no longer breathe. Cera’s walk was just as wobbly and uneven, wings hanging limp by his sides as the tips brushed the ground. Neck and flanks wet with sweat and turning a dark brown so different from his normally sandy color. White had taken over a decent amount of his eyes and he staggered slightly as he continued walking. Ilaria cooed and sent a worried ‘?’ through their bond. Cera couldn’t reply, and she scurried up his neck to sit behind his ears. Back paws clinging to his mane, cooing into his ear as he staggered over the sand. He took comfort in her familiar sounds, giving a few rough sobs that could hardly be afforded in his winded state. "I don’t know what to do, Illy…" whimpering to her, and though she didn’t understand she kept up a steady flow of loving emotions through their bond. Cera clung to it like a lifeline, his life preserver in the ocean of despair and confusion. It felt like she was all he had left.
Image by Alex
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#2
 MIDAS</style>



Questions lingered on both ends of their minds, yet neither had given voice to them. Try as I might, his innocence couldn’t have been defended forever… Just as my little one was growing up, our ever changing world was shifting toward different elements. Already we had seen a battle and the imbalance of magic, in only two seasons. Lord only knew what was coming next, and the fear of unknown was enough to rattle the nerves of even the most heartless parents. Sooner or later Cera would have realized that their existence wasn’t just full of sunlight and quaint evenings; it was a struggle and constant choice to do the right thing—over and over again.

If only this trial had come on a later date, or rather not at all.

There were some wounds that would take more than Onni’s magic to mend, I knew this and wanted more than anything to aid a speedy recovery. Yet, every single time I gazed into those shattered emeralds…anger filled soul to the point of hatred. Fury for the blood bay, but mostly I was bitter against being so incapable of protecting what mattered most. These feelings burned through blood like a flesh eating virus that bore no cure. So I looked away and buried myself in work, to ashamed and bitter against my own failures to see that Cera needed me most of all. This was my fault, had I not been wasting precious time sleeping…if I had only been more direct about the dangers of our world.

Countless if’s, yet none of them offered any semblance of comfort; and I would have none anyways—this soul didn’t deserve comfort. The honor of loving and guiding another had been placed upon these shoulders, and…I had failed. Because of this sin I was forced to watch a child grow wide with fear at even the lightest of sounds. Little body huddled against mine for something more than warmth.

I prayed, but the same pondering arose, “How could this happen to us?”

No amount of asking pried the gods to lift their veils and offer encouragement, their voices remained ever silent to deaf ears. It was an unneeded question anyways; wisdom knew the answer perfectly well. Our lord, though kind and wise—wouldn’t dabble in the everyday happenings of a mortal life. It was our responsibility to guide and protect those that held meaning, through experience we grow—through trial we shed into something stronger than before. This lesson wasn’t beyond what my earthbound knowledge could understand, but it certainly was beyond a child’s inexperience.

Guilt was upon me, for every lost moment that could have been spent readying for something like this. How could I ask for his forgiveness now? What right did I have to even pry for such selfish request? Surely Cera had grown to hate me over the past few days; we hardly spoke when together though we were together very often. I could only fathom how deep resentment was taking root.

When praying seemed to produce plant absent fruit, I turned to the words of an earthly forefather.

My parents had introduced me to the horrors of our world slowly, gently; I had been a lucky one. They taught me the basics of fighting when a bright yearling, and soon after passed from this world during a skirmish. Or so I had been told. I sought their guidance know, not knowing how to approach my son—what would they do in this situation? “Fear isn’t dust upon a leaf that can be washed away by gentle rain….you must have patience son.”That simple statement echoed back to me from a distant time when it meant something entirely different; but the symbolism of such wise offerings were the same.

It was to these words that I awoke from a dreamless sleep, realizing faintly that Cera had gone from my side. Instinctively I sniffed and picked up his tangy essence. Stretching sore muscles I stepped out from under our old magnolia tree and flexed my mind toward reaching out to Fina. She had been keeping watch of Cera’s whereabouts during hours of patrolling and rest.

Response came quickly and with more force than expected, the phoenix shot me pained image after image of a broken soul I hardly recognized as the bright foal it had been only a few days prier. A troubled expression by the watering hole and then tears, hot waves of silver that sent little daggers of ice throughout my body.

Throat closed off and I turned away as the final snapshot came through, my child was in so much pain. This wasn’t a monster that could be physically attacked, and revenge would mean nothing in this moment.

Limbs began to move, shifting toward the crying babe. I followed with scents and sights set toward a direction Fina led. What was I to do? What could I say that would make a difference? Better decide fast, it didn’t take long until we overcame a growing colt and were within ear shot.

“Son?” I called out, softly nearly timid. Fear of unknown reaction was great, but if this didn’t get put to mend now; I feared that a rift would form too wide for either side to heal, “These past few days have been trying and I…” a pause, skull dipped low in shame while limbs ceased movement all together, “I know your angry with me, if you could only understand how sorry I am…” an annoying ball logged itself within the folds of my throat causing normally firm tone to waver, “If you find any amount of forgiveness for my failure…though it is undeserved…. I…..” Breaking off entirely, my voice decided to give out, and unsaid words dripped upon the sands instead.

I faintly realized that little drops of moisture were falling from my eyes, sliding down golden dual birthmarks only to mate together toward the end when they simply ran out of horse. Fina chirped from above, feeling my sorrow as if it was her own…though she remained airborne to offer us some privacy.

“Fear isn’t dust upon a leaf…”


[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit
#3





His flight had been long and he felt weak and light headed as the heat of the day climbed steadily higher, combining with the temperature he’d created in his own body through his sprint. Energy was completely drained and he was starting to eye the sand, wondering if he could remain standing for much longer. The emotional toll was worse, and the brief respite he had from his thoughts soon ended in a rather decisive manner. He couldn’t run from it, couldn’t physically evade it and that bothered him more than anything else. Horizon blurred from the heat of the desert, fooling those who had not been born in its tender grasp. Tears only made it harder to distinguish what lay before him, but he couldn’t have summoned the energy to move if he needed to. Somehow his entire world had come crashing down, aureate lines blurring with smears of coal and shadow. Breaking down his temple of innocence and naivety with the storms of hatred and cruelty. There had been no warning, no sign of what was going to happen to him. What turned him around that day, Cera had no clue. Whatever it was, it had saved his life. That tiny nudge that told him to move his gaze away. And to see what? A monster that crawled and slithered like a serpent through his nightmares, for no longer where they able to be named dreams. Even mornings, the time of day Cera used to dread before this incident, could not be counted on to relieve him from the horrors of his mind. D’Artagnan followed him everywhere, even in his waking moments. Every shadow had dark glittering eyes. Every unknown sound was him approaching. It was driving Cera to a threadbare state, clutching at whatever he could to keep himself from some sort of breakdown.

What hurt, more than the poison that had nearly killed him, was how distant Midas had become. It only fueled his self-hatred and constant deprecation of himself. Every doubt was subtly made into a truth with every morning that Midas left without a word and returned in the same manner. Cera would watch him after he’d fallen asleep and wonder what he could possibly due to fix everything. He had to prove to Midas that he was a good son. That he regretted what he’d done. Maybe then he would decide to take Cera back, would love him again. It was his fault, he’d completely forgotten about Midas’ enforcing stare the day of the meeting, telling him not to leave the borders without another. But who else would Cera take? Mystique? The thought of her being hurt only made him want to hurt himself worse. Whatever he had done to drive Midas away, he wanted to fix it. Was desperate to fix it. He couldn’t take the silence, the stares, and the looks. Misunderstanding them, believing that Midas was only inches away from disowning him and leaving him to fend for himself. If that happened…if that happened then Cera would seek out d’Artagnan himself and plead for him to finish the job. Because Cera couldn’t live a life without Midas. Couldn’t imagine living on his own again, especially after experiencing the deep bond he held with his father. He was driving himself into a panic every day trying to figure out how to approach him, the one he so desperately needed to keep him grounded.

He felt like he was drifting, losing himself. It was too much, too suddenly. He’d never doubted Midas’ love before, and was appalled to find himself doing it now. But he won’t even speak to you, his mind hissed in reply. Only furthering the trail of tears down his cheeks. Ilaria cooed, sounding helpless and worried. He doesn’t want you, you’re a horrible son! He wished the demon would have killed you! Deep sobs rattled his tiny chest and he shook his head nearly violently to try and rid himself from the horrible voice. The doubt that had taken on his fears. Ilaria stroked her paw awkwardly over his fetlock to try and quiet his tears, chittering in his ear softly. She was lost, had no idea what to do in order to comfort Cera. Her dark mahogany eyes searched the sky for the ever present phoenix, chittering. Phoenix equaled Midas to her. She had no care for the bird like creature but her bonded was upset and all she could discern from his mind was Midas. It seemed she needn’t wait long though, for the approach of the father soon broke her attention. Her paws pulled on Cera’s hairs, alerting him a few moments before he spoke.

Cera lurched as he heard Midas’ voice, large emerald eyes turning to him. Displaying every emotion he was feeling, unable to hide away from him. Always unable to hide how he was feeling. Turning to face Midas, though he took a step back and his head lowered a little. Nearly dislodging Ilaria who seemed disgruntled and scooted back to her preferred position between his shoulders. Cera was terrified that he’d lost his time frame, that Midas was arriving only to tell him that he was no longer wanted and that he should never approach him again. But if that was so, why had he called him son? Cera flinched away from the words as he mentioned the last few days, but obediently and respectfully kept his eyes on Midas. Hoping that somehow this would end well, that Midas wasn’t going to abandon him. His words gave him pause and Cera sniffled away his slowing tears, trying to understand. Why would Cera be angry? Midas should be the one angry, Cera had been the one to cause all of it. Seeing his father so weak, even to the point of crying, had agony spelling its song across his face. All at once the tears came back and he realized then that Midas believed that Cera blamed him. For what, he couldn’t imagine.
"I-I’m n…not a-angry!" Sobbing out the words, cracked and harsh as he was still recovering what little breath remained in his lungs. Wings curled about him as if in a hug, protecting him weakly from the words Midas said. How in the world could he believe that Cera was angry at him? However those three words broke the dam inside him that held back all the emotions he’d been keeping in a big ball. Hardly able to see past the heavy cloud of tears that thickened his vision, face crumpling as if the entirety of the world had just crashed down on him and he was helpless to stop it. From there the words just came tumbling out, confessions that he could no longer keep bottled up. It was tearing him up inside, and he needed to say it before he withered away. ”I’m ugly daddy! I-I’m ugly and bad! Bad! I di-didn’t listen! A-All my fault! Daddy I-I’m sorry please, p-please don’t be angry at me!” Begging him, pouring his heart into every word so that Midas could plainly see how messed up he felt. How dirty and tainted he believed he’d become. ”I-I’ll be better! I’ll b-b-be good!” Nearly wailing now, feeling as if he could hardly manage a single breath with the sobs and the cries he was giving out that tainted every word with agony. ”I’m dirty! Th-This stupid…thing!” Stomping and gesturing to his chest with anger and despair. After that he merely dissolved into tears, unable to create syllables at all for a few moments. ”D-Daddy never speaks to me no more! And I’m scared! Scared all the time! I don’t sleep, I don’t want to eat anymore! I-I don’t want you to make me go away!” Breathing much too quickly by that point so that Ilaria poked her head up again and watched Midas warily. Unable to pinpoint why her bonded was so distraught but believing it to have something to do with the painted stallion. ”I-I so sc-scared…I dunno what to d-do…nobody listens, and y-you never talk no more…I-I don’ wanna be scared Daddy…” half whimpering, half whispering the words.

”M-Mystique…I-I don’t want to see he-her…what i-if she sc-scares me? Why am I so bad? I ruin! I ruin everything!” Blubbering and wailing, unable to contain his misery. ”Who do I g-go to?! I dunno what to do! I don’t want this! I don’t want this, Daddy!” Nearly screaming, white taking over his eyes a little as he tried and failed to keep himself from remembering that horrible day. He didn’t want any of it. The scar, the memory, the emotions…all of it only served to tear him apart. What else could he do? He was trapped, unable to run to anybody. Cera didn’t even know what he was experiencing! Unable to go on he merely cradled himself tighter with his wings, crying his heart out until Midas’ image swayed and melted into a completely different form. His heart was broken and he felt like he was shattered, afraid that he had been broken into too many pieces to be able to be put back together.
Image by Alex
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#4
 MIDAS</style>

I watched his eyes, huge with tears and constricted in pain. That broken stare shot shards of agony into heart, affliction far beyond anything this soul had ever felt before. Physical sorrow would seem a kinder fate, to die one hundred deaths even better. Was there nothing I could do to erase this? Was all my magic, strength, and armor…useless—everything totally useless in these matters? Powerless again. Our crimson dyed nightmare had rendered me helpless. Once before in woods, when I had first witnessed the creature looming above my prodigy, and now with each stricken syllable that would follow in these long moments.

"I-I’m n…not a-angry!"

Perked senses flicked back a notch, my face contorted in confusion when apology was denied proper footing, “If he wasn’t angry at me….then what?” Obviously something else was wrong, fresh tears formed in those bright eyes; and for once wisdom didn’t come to immediate aid. What solution was I missing? I blinked back pricks of discomfort that burned behind my own orbs and waited, not realizing just how deep this problem had taken root.

”I’m ugly daddy!”

Shock. That word seemed like a proper term for describing the expression that came across my facade, pure, totally honest surprise. Shaken, I dared a step forward, twisting head left and right to show outward denial. Though he couldn't see it now, time would heal this and turn wound into a badge of survival--and would later serve in providing heading for a stronger stallion. That was later though, years from this moment. Here and with each passing breath, I wished more than anything to take troubled child within embrace; sooth tears with gentle assurance and love. Everything came as onslaught though, total hysteria that gave voice pause. It would only be bested once every last word was out.

”D-Daddy never speaks to me no more!”

Skull dipped and eyes fell, guilt building tenfold at the lashing honesty in tone. The silence had been misunderstood. Neither of them took chance upon aches to voice concern, both doubting the other. Since I was an elder, most blame lay across this back. Cera was still young, far too innocent. The responsibly for first steps in communication should have been on my part, perhaps….if I had…this doubt wouldn’t be so heavily felt. His cries continued to fall like slaps against flesh, until energy was finally spent.

Silence, save for rapid breath, but it wouldn’t hold for long. Tucking muzzle inward, instinctively I sought a small button that would relieve armored collar from muscled neck. Once found and with little pressure submitted, my magically steel fell with a muffled, ‘clank,’ sand absorbing weight instead of fleshy hide. Now I stood before him unencumbered, save for an emerald pendant, hung by a golden chain. It usually lay hidden where the collar had been.

Softly and with unmatched tenderness I whispered, “My brave child, worthy prodigy,” another step was taken toward him, “It was never intent that a single ounce of anger be directed toward you…. the beast that caused wound is what tarnishes this heart and deserves full blunt.” Surprise gave way to gentleness, if this babe was true enough to lay all bare across the ground--then only equal standing would befit honesty.

My voice thickens as words continue to flow, unchecked emotions slipping through, “I would readily cut head from body before ever harboring the thought of sending you away,” again my feet shuffle to close distance, praying that he doesn’t flee, “Come to me, allow this weary warrior a chance to properly attend grievance and see bitter tears turned from memory,” wing unfurled, awaiting chance to accept them. Lowered feathers brushed earth—a single step would be all it took, “Let me be strong for you, and trust in me when I say that my love for you has never shaken and it never will."


[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit
#5





Hysteria has passed, but it has left a deep aching hole in cherub’s chest. Exhaustion is making thin limbs sway, emotional piling upon previous physical that had driven him in a headlong sprint across the sand. Running from ghosts that chased after him laughing and screeching that he couldn’t run away forever. Ilaria was worried by such thoughts, and was chittering restlessly as she scaled the two colors of his mane to rest once more behind drooped ears. His mind is a mess, scattered and drifting all over the place. Repeating thoughts in a loop that he can’t control. Miscommunication ruins lives, and it is seen so clearly in the situation that presented itself to them. He is all tired out, unable to even imagine one more word. Breaths come in harsh pants, drawing in humid desert air that does little to help him. Everything seems strange, hot. Too hot. But he somehow remains standing, tiny frame held up by stilt like legs that, should they move, felt as if they could collapse in moments.

Emeralds that once glittered have now turned into blades of crushed grass, soft and yielding. Nothing is keeping him from the metaphorical edge. Nothing but one person. Ilaria would follow him to the ends of the world, but Midas was the only person who could keep him from completely losing the rest of his sanity. Everything had turned into a puzzle that he didn’t understand. Couldn’t comprehend where he should even start putting it together. What the scene would be at all, once it was completed. Everything was tainted black and red in his mind, blood and shadows that kept him awake long into the late night hours of twilight. Feeling that if he even so much as blinked, he would be back on that sand waiting in agony for Onni to arrive. That there wouldn’t be a savior on the horizon that time. That he would bleed out on the sand, with no one to take his fear away. It seemed he was so scared, so suddenly, of everything.

Staring into his father’s familiar golden orbs, he wanted to cry again. Alas he could not, it felt as if he had cried every last tear in his body for the rest of his life. At that moment he wanted to crumple, let the wind break his resistance and fall to lay along the warmth of the desert floor. Let it consume him. Rid him of the darkness that lurked like a disease on the corners of his mind. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t hide. What was a child to do when faced with such a situation? Was he supposed to be afraid? Was this normal? And if so, what in the world was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to start? Was confessing to his father even the right thing? So many thoughts fluttered around his brain like sparrows with broken wings, helpless and nervous. Knowing that their desperation will get them nowhere.

Movement catches his eyes and he watches with dead eyes as the armor falls away. Revealing the father he’d met so long ago on a dark night, on a patrol. He hadn’t realized the difference the armor made, as he had grown so terribly used to it. Gaze roved over the newly revealed hide, taking in the familiar curves and patterns that had escaped eyes for quite a while. Cera looked to him for guidance, for some sort of reassurance that he wasn’t actually going insane. He felt like he was overstuffed suddenly, like there was no way he could ever fly if all of this was keeping him so firmly on the ground.

Painted stallion took a step forward and Cera trembled. Tiny limbs shaking. It was as if he were no longer ‘Cera’. He was just a frightened animal, not even a person anymore. For why else would he feel the desire to back away from the one person he loved more than life itself? Felt almost like a tiny fawn, hardly rid of its spots. Easily startled, flighty. But he forced himself to remain even as his crown reached skyward, neck arching back subtly. Hanging on his words, paying such close attention to every syllable that Cera himself could feel the desperation. Praying that Midas would say something, anything to make the horrible things go away. Reminder of the horrible demon had terror slipping into his eyes, but he knew that his father did not speak of him to scare him. Only to explain that he was not angered with the painted colt, that the passionate if deadly emotion was directed at the horrible thing that had left the scar upon his breast. Sniffle echoes from his nostrils, and though he had thought that no more tears could escape green eyes turn moist. Comforted by the words he spoke, telling Cera that no, Midas would not chase him away. He would not have to return to the dark landscape he had once inhabited, wondering if anybody loved him. For if he’d been abandoned then he was surely unlovable. Fears that had built in the very back of his mind, unnoticed even by him. Appearing all at once because of the horrific incident.

Again he shuffles closer and the trembling strengthens. Why he is wracked by them Cera is clueless. Deciding in the end that the only explanation is that he is about to run. But where, now that is the question. Would he run away from Midas, from the closeness he was slowly putting upon him? Or would he run forward, into his familiar warmth and scent, and allow himself to be held and comforted? It would seem such a simple decision, but to him it is not. He knows he should choose the second option, but something far deeper told him that nothing could help him. A frightened part of him that feared he could never recover, and therefore told himself that it was impossible. That Midas couldn’t help him, so why should he stick around? But the need to heal himself was far stronger, and he hoped that made him a better person for choosing the hard path instead of the easy one. Last words are spoken, bidding him to move forward. Cera hesitated only a fraction of a moment, and in that moment Midas continued to speak.

“Let me be strong for you, and trust in me when I say that my love for you has never shaken and it never will."

Those words broke the tiny film that kept the tears from touching his cheeks, and they flowed once again. He was positive that he would cry out every drop of water from his body, but he didn’t really care in that moment. Sobs were no longer great and gasping, but tiny and more like hiccups than anything. Running forward though he hardly even needed a step, crashing fragile little body into the larger, sturdier one of Midas. Hiding beneath his wing, turning so that face was against painted neck. Crying softly into the softness he found there, the familiarity. Wings drooped down so that tips touched the sand, and Ilaria huddled down on the curve of his back so as not to disrupt the bonding between them. In the quiet of his shaking sobs, hardly more than a babe’s, he whispered. ”W-What do I-I do?” Tiny and strained, but he was sure that Midas had heard it. Hiding away in the darkness of flesh and closed eyes, inhaling familiar things he’d nearly forgotten in their distance. This darkness didn’t scare him. A sort of numbed calm washed over him, as if he were floating. He was safe here. He didn’t have to run here.

The monster couldn’t get him beneath his father’s wing.
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Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#6
 MIDAS</style>



Cera came forward. Just as I knew he would. I smiled weakly, thinking that, “there was more to this colt then what lay skin deep.” Was that why a crazed coward had targeted him? Because the lad had somehow posed as future threat? Could our beast somehow have breathed in the fragrance of a warrior and knew that this foal was a generals son? With time this child had the possibility for greater things, be it battle, crafting, healing or leading. He would be a better warrior than me or even my father before.

Again, those ideas were grand, but not in the moment. I scowled inwardly at trailing thoughts and focused upon gathering a growing boy within an embrace, hugging both wings close until they covered him completely and nearly mated. Familiar scents were inhaled... the creamy cherub was no longer babyish, but musky and with growing pungent. Legs bent and carried us both to the ground, gently cradling a fragile package that was nestled close. Soft flesh would yield and conform to meet each curve until both father and son where close enough for the other to feel a separate heartbeat. Mine a strong and steady rhythm, his the fluttering beat of a child…its speed reminded me of a small bird caught between cage and predator.

”W-What do I-I do?”

Sobered I replied, “Just rest a moment, we have time for talk.” He was so tired; so completely drained of emotional and physical energy. Curled neck circled to offer full comfort through touch and presence, a thing that Cera favored even when we first met. Gently I pushed through the dark folds of feathers and just took a moment for hiccups and sobs alike to cease. We lay here…for….I don’t know how long.

It seemed like hours, but it might have been only a few minutes.

Finally when silence had fallen and all seemed to simmer down, my skull rose a little—nostrils flaring to breathe a hot whiff of air across sensitive ears, “Cera, your steps don’t have to be haunted; I will guard them until fear has passed,” pushing one wing back so he could have sight if desired I continued, “and in the meantime we will continue your training in both flight and defense.” All the training in our world couldn't wipe clean a full slate. Only time would dim mental image, and even then here was nothing that could erase memories thoroughly. No amount of preparing or task could simply wash away the pain associated. It would be a small thing each day for many days the would spark this traumatic loss, eventually those sparks would become fewer and fewer. Until only once in awhile did a shiver or grieved heart rear head for a moment of woo.

Though I wouldn’t say it to him…this sin was going to be avenged.

Either in this life or the next, I would have vengeance from the beast that caused firsthand grievance, “There are evil men and women out in the wild that live for nothing but to do harm, they come in all shapes and sizes. With and without horns, wings, and the like.” Sighing I add, “Be watchful and never leave the throat without myself or another adult that I have introduced you to.

For now, Fina will help keep watch from the sky, and should you run into any trouble--you are to call upon her aid."


My little phoenix huffed mentally but readily accepted the task, she could feel my waves or concern, a stern command was given. The child dared not disagree when it came to matters involving Cera. Besides--it also meant she had more freedom to hunt and fill a never ending appetite.

"If shelter is gone and we fail, or can't arrive quickly enough, use this,” gently my magical strings of sand pulled along fleshy neck until the slight weight of a golden chain was removed, “it will guard you when all seems lost, and protect until help arrives.”

Gold slipped carefully across creamy neck, the emerald shone with bright brilliance that never seemed to grow dull. Behind the setting of said stone, was a single granule of golden sand, not easily seen unless one was looking for it. This little grain was magical, my element, my very essence was within this amulet. I could feel its transition. "This is my gift to you, for completing your first quest."



[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit
#7





Cera remembers. In that moment, taking that courageous step forward towards Midas, he recalled something that had slipped past him in every nightmare. It had taken so much strength, that tiny step. But it reminded him that he’d held on even tighter, when he should have been killed. He knew, intimately, that with his build and age he should not have survived. Cera was simply too thin, too frail. Entirely too breakable for the poison not to have killed him that day in the forest. But, that’s not what he remembers. Though he does clearly remember struggling to hang on to that thread of life, seemingly impossible to keep up strength before Onni had taken the fight for him. No, he remembers two words. One of them spoken by the devil himself. Die. And it’s then that Cera remembers the deep, furious echo that had resounded in his very chest. No. He would not die, because he had too much to live for. At his age, he didn’t understand that. When he had grown he would look back, and know that he had fought every inch in order to return to his beloved family. That order would not be obeyed, he would not hand his life over so easily. Something far stronger was blooming inside him, encouraged by Midas’ attentive grooming. It was entirely foreign to him, but that simple ‘no’ struck him as he was pressed into the darkness of Midas’ neck. Shuddering breaths were exhaled onto the painted body and he didn’t feel strong, but maybe if he could hear that proud voice inside him once more he could continue on. It felt as though the future him had reached back to Cera as a colt and told him that he could make it. If that strength existed somewhere inside him, anywhere, Cera would draw on it and let Midas lead him out from the darkness of his own mind.

Snowy feathers enveloped him, the soft shush, shush of feathers moving a gentle whisper that things would be alright. Legs lowered to the ground and Cera followed without complaint, drained. Body leaning sideways into his father, reminiscent of the nights they spent together sharing warmth and love. Stern, caring words quieted Cera and he at last turned his head so that face was no longer pressed into the side of his neck. Opening his eyes to see past the self-inflicted darkness. Body curled closer, and Cera allowed himself to believe that nothing had happened and he was back to standing on that desert floor, childish words greeting his father for the very first time. Touch meant so much to him, and Midas seemed to understand that well. It soothed frazzled nerves, if only slightly. Eventually relaxation overtook him, and he lay limply against his father nearly drifting off. Warm air over his ears brought him back, and he shifted closer as crown lifted to hear what painted father would say. Relieved, tentative smile broke through where normally sunny grin would live when Midas nearly swore that he would not have to watch his steps so carefully. That there was nothing to fear. Turning a bit more alert as training was mentioned. The topic had been approached and they had dabbled in it quite a few times, but Cera had always enjoyed such days. It gave him closeness to Midas that he thoroughly enjoyed.

Words flowed, sadly, from his father’s mouth. Pouring straight into his ears, attentive as ever. Learning the definition and fine rules of the lesson he had learned in the worst way. Cera forced himself not to cringe or whimper, and Ilaria snuffled gently against his shoulder comfortingly. Kri had spoken the same thing at the meeting, but with it reiterated now he was going to follow it to the letter. Green orbs turned to look at Fina and smile shakily, thankfully. He didn’t know if she liked him, but he hoped so. Attention was brought back not only by the sound of speech but by the stirring of magic around his father. Watching as golden chain lifted and moved, slipping over his own slim neck and settling so that the jewel rested just below his scar. Awed, he was hardly able to listen to the words Midas bestowed upon him explaining what it was. He’d been there the day his father had received it, after all. Thankful eyes turned, gratitude and love shining out through them. ”Thank you daddy…” soft whisper only loud enough to touch the ears of his beloved father, though nobody else was around to listen anyways. Tiny muzzle reaching up vainly to eventually touch his father’s cheek, knowing that every command given would be obeyed and every word held close to heart. Cera wouldn’t disobey his father for all the power and fame in the world.
Image by Alex
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!


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