Kronos
In a world full of twists and cruelty
The corpse has countless stories to tell
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Actions | "Speech" | Thoughts
The rain had recently let up and a mist still hung on the pre-dawn forest. It made the moonlight appear as a haze instead of finite beams casting everything in a silver gleam. It was that moment of time when the moon was brightest right before slipping down behind the horizon. This didn't serve any purpose, seeing as the shadows in the forest were just as deep as ever and the post-rain mist was making it impossible to see very well. Still, it seemed not everything could be discouraged from walking about. A shadow of movement flickered as a small, rickety old stallion made his way along a path. He seemed to be about old enough to be thrown to the dogs. The leathery wings on his back were ratty and full of holes near the edge of the membrane. His coat was scruffy and covered in dirt stains that hid his original dappled grey coloring. His mane and tail were a collection of dreadlocks, braids, and loose hairs.
His hooves were overgrown and cracked, pieces of them were even broken off, but they didn't seem to bother him, as his stride was strong and sure... if a little unsteady as he swayed from side to side in the throes of whatever twisted thought was running through his mind. These thoughts were mostly harmless, as he had a wide smile on his face. His messy forelock hung into his eyes, hiding their color. Actually, this might be why he was swaying so badly, because he couldn't see. Still, he paused, looking downwards as he came to the skeleton of some poor sod who seemed to have run amok with his life... or hers. He couldn't really tell. Instead of running away, or acting frightened, the little pony let out a delighted chuckle.
"Kehehehe... look at the way this one's all sprawled out." His voice was high pitched, scratchy and drawlish so he seemed a, unused to using it, and b, whimsical in tone all the time. "I wonder what happened to him, hmmm? Maybe he became someone else's lunch. Ooooh what delight, oh happy day. Kehehehehe...." The old man began to tug at a cannon bone to add it to the collection but it proved too heavy for him to move so he instead broke off a rib bone and turned with the thing in his mouth to run it through one of the tangles so that it would hang as a grisly decoration. He shook his forelock out of his eyes to admire his work, nodding once in a decisive way before he continued on. The shade of the eye that appeared was an intense amber, not brown, not yellow, but a rich, soft gold.
He felt the rib bone fall out of his mane not 3 strides later, but he did not seem to care, because he did not turn around to collect it again. He was humming to himself and placing one hoof in front of the other to walk straight ahead without stopping, at least until he bumped headfirst into something, or someone. The little pony fell backwards onto his haunches and rolled backwards onto his back, looking up through his thick forelock at what, or who, he had hit with a dazed expression on his face. He din't seem to be upset though, as he simply started to laugh that eerie laugh of his.
"Keheheheh, heheheh!"
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Open!
I really don't care who he bumps into, so long as you don't mind him being a harmless creeper. xD
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Cal|variam
"Up...Up...and Awaaay..."
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Some would say a sack of old bones like Cal should be in bed at this time of dreary night; the wolves would be a'stalkin' and the coyotes would be lickin' their chops, watching a plump lil' thang like Calvariam stalk past the moonlit shadows, humming to herself and her mind gone elsewhere like an off-hand thought. She was easy prey, vulnerable, juicy and crisp to taste; there was no way in hell she would be able to defend herself against the walking shadows of the night. Was she senile? Maybe so; she was certainly gettin' there. Even now, as she trekked a steady angle southward toward warmer, sunnier lands, the landscape melted at the peripheral of her sight, and her mind buzzed pleasantly-- and not with the beauty of the thick, settling fog. No, Cal's mind was elsewhere, somewhere way up high, where the air was thin and hard to breath in, and she was free to dive for Gaia and not worry about crushing every single bone in her body....Man, those were the days...
*"...someone else's lunch. Ooooh what delight, oh happy day. Kehehehehe...."*
Cal's ears flicked forward, then back again. Her mind was elsewhere for the time being, still up in the wispy, frozen cirrus clouds, miles and miles away. The strange cackle was registered mentally, sure, but it was a disembodied warble that had nothing to do with reality and everything to do with the placating pleasantries wafting through Cal's mind. Her eyes traveled to the source of the voice; there stood one of the most absurd looking creatures Cal had set eyes on in her life. He was the epitome of crunchy lookin', what with his untrimmed hooves and his rank coat color; the scaly things that sat on his shoulders, leathery and broken in places, brought a peel of scratchy laughter to her throat. She must have eaten something to have imagined a stud like that! What was her subconscious trying to tell her?
"Looks like you lost somethin', deary," Cal said, still cackling, as she caught something white-washed and sinister fall from the tangled mass of matted mane; she recognised it as some kind of bone. The knowledge only made Cal laugh even harder, such was her state; everything was simply amusing and unconnected from reality; to her, everything was a dream. C'mon now-- a bone? In a mane?! Who writes this stuff?
Such was the power of her chuckles that Cal had stopped in mid-stride, chuckling at the nameless spectre of a stallion that made his way steadily toward her. Not for one moment did Cal really believe that he was a substantial piece of reality, that he was more than just a figment of her imagination and spirited daydreaming-- and so, when the smelly old stallion actually crashed into her without so much as a second of hesitation, the bubble within Cal's mind suddenly broke. She wasn't knocked off her feet like the poor wretch, who seemed to be laughing himself silly over the ordeal, but she still had to flap her *sore and stiff* wings a little to keep from falling over. Like her balance, her blissful contentment was gone too; she was suddenly aware of the dead of night and the thick fog she walked into, of all her aches and pains, and, more importantly, this giggling dumb-ass that had the nerve to walk right into her.
And all of it pissed her off.
"The hell you tryn' ta do ta me, boy?!" Calvariam roared in her hoarse voice, finding her footing once more as the geezer in front of her continued to roll in the misty dust, laughing his heart out. The irony of thinking of someone as an "old geezer" was lost upon Cal's annoyance; if the gal had opposable thumbs, she would have taken his overgrown forelock and throttled him with it.
~.~.~.~
(OOC: Hope you don't mind me joining? :3 )
"This Some Messed-Up Shit Right Here..
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Sumati
the Sinbird
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The Threshold was in the amicable wake of preceding storm. Mist rises ground up as a hovering cloud of blue and silver. It pets the sides of Sumati's waterproof wings as she glides just above the sporadic trees. These nightly Threshold scans have been the only source of recruitment so far. The Sinbird is patiently awaiting Kri's call for the herd meeting. She knows the Resolute was planning heavy tactics for the incoming invasion, and Sumati set out all at once, retrieving all possible warriors and even any member to add to the numbers. She finds contentment in the hallowed timber because the scents of possibility are eager in her nostrils.
Sumati hones in her ears, flicking them through the dense fog in spite of the dead silence. She hears even the twigs snap beneath opossum feet and the cracking skulls in an owl's cheeks. She is completely restless despite the hour. The sun hasn't even yawned to the horizon yet, and the moon still stands deliriously above her, chuckling in her silvery path.
The stars are the only things on her mind now, and they aren't even visible.
Her wings continue to flap onward, hissing through the thick air with haphazard angst. The clamminess of the wind is continuing to slow her mind and her flying. The mare's vivid eyes flicker in the moonlight, cautious, waiting, and hunting down her next member.
She hears a muffled crash below and following is the sound of an awkward uproar. The Sinbird rotates her wings downward and spirals to the Threshold's grass landing quick enough to stumble. She bounds into a steady canter, following the voices as they boom in anguish. It matches the tone of her heart. She rounds the last tree and stops to find a rather pathetic looking pair of Pegasi. Sumati sighs and forces her hooves to move again, sweat foaming in the corners of her body.
She doesn't have time for his. They don't even look like they can maintain flight.
Yet, she keeps calm, knowing even Kri would reward her with bringing the two back.
"Are you two alright?" She stands over them, regarding the little stallion first, she places her brown lip to his shoulder nudging him up. Sumati find some sort of sympathy for him, as he's absolutely disgusting. Her hazel eyes find his coat an unnatural color because of the dirt packed in his shedding hairs. She glances to the old mare now, finding feathers missing along the base of her wings and mane balding in short locks. She hopes to herself that she won't look like these folks as an elder. The Sultana finds the mare and the stallion to be quite healthy at least, maybe bruised perhaps, but manageable.
Sumati proceeds in a thoughtful tone, "If you're at all injured, please come with me back to my homeland, the Dragon's Throat. We have a plethora of medics waiting to be at your aid." She hopes her suggestion would sound like a good one for this rough couple.
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Kronos
In a world full of twists and cruelty
The corpse has countless stories to tell
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Actions | "Speech" | Thoughts
Even for a stud of Kronos's age and conformation, the little pony seemed more than able to roll onto his side and stand back up on his own with out help from the younger mare. He was suddenly brought back to reality as he realized he had not one other horse, but two surrounding him. He shook his mane and the forelock with it, forcing the strands of tangled hair to fall to the side, instead of in front of, on of his intense amber eyes. He flicked his one-eyed, gold gaze between the two of them and let out a shrill, snort that sounded like "KEHEHEH!!" His sides shook as he did so, heaving in the pattern of a cough.
"That's assuming your healers know what their doing." he snorted. For some reason, the stallion felt offended by the idea that a healer would look over his body. Not because he was proud, that wasn't it. He could tell not knowing why he was so flared up over this was going to bug him for a while, even more than that annoying emptiness in his head. It was as if his thoughts were simple spotlights spread apart over miles and miles of blank, dark stage. No actors, no color, no music, no audience. Just.... an echoing emptiness. He always had that feeling like he was forgetting something important and no matter how hard he thought, or how much he tried, he could never shed light on the shadows tantalizing the edges of his memory.
With a soft snort, he turned away from them both and began to walk away because he had lost himself in a random train of thought once more. His tangled tail shivered from side to side with the motion of his unsteady gait. "Bye-biii!" He nickered over his shoulder.
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Calvariam, played by M.E.
Sumati, played by Tay
Stupid smut draining my muse... makes my posts short. Sorry ;3;
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As hot and bubbling as her blood was a few seconds previously, a few deep breaths and a cleansing shudder proved sufficient to calm Cal's temper as she looked upon the stallion in the dust, rolling himself to his feet. She was still pretty damn annoyed, but it was a objective sort of anger; just that ruffled feeling of waking up from a really good day dream. It was as though she had taken a long, clumsy tumble from way up high where the ice was brittle and misty, and anyone would be annoyed if they suddenly experienced a miles-long drop from the clouds without their consent. Whatever. It was all water under the bridge at this point.
Cal's ears pinned by habit as another happened upon their unhappy little clearing; an elegant looking lady with a saunter like velvet, with the telltale signs of having just landed from a long flight; the subtly heavier breathing, the faint musk and sheen of sweat on her coat. The implication that the mare had been in the air not so long previously already sent a sick, metallic taste of jealousy in Cal's mouth, not withstanding the mare's roving, intrusive eyes and rather irritating question: *"Are you two alright?"* Cal snorted in response to this; it wasn't the same sloppy raspberry she had sent Murdock's way once upon a time, but it was still sufficient to communicate her derision. Cal was standing, wasn't she? She was breathing, wasn't she? If Cal were injured and needed help, she'd say something to the gal-- everything else was none of her business.
*"If you're at all injured, please come with me back to my homeland, the Dragon's Throat. We have a plethora of medics waiting to be at your aid."*
A spike of annoyance and amusement shot through Cal's breast; what was it with these people and healers? She must really look like shit. "I ain't need no healer, girl," she said curtly, her neck flexing slightly, "but you ain't the first to ask....Dainty lil' white thing asked the same question the first time I got here." She hmmmed to herself, also remembering that the ghostly filly who had begged for wisdom-filled stories had also invited Cal to the "Dragon's Throat". Whatever that meant; her memory was a little fuzzy. Cal supposed they might be kin-folk? She unknowingly started to eye this mare up and down, trying to discern the same face and build of that gal she had met upon her first steps into the threshold. The prospect was futile; she didn't even know their names.
"Bye-biii!"
Cal's head whipped around. "And just where do you think you're going?" she said heatedly, turning her heel and barreling after the retreating stallion; the mystery of the mare and the "dragon's throat" was soon forgotten in her excitement. "You still owe me some words, Sunny Jim." she admonished. Maybe it was her brush with Murdock that had made her so testy, and that after that little scuffle with an annoying son-of-a-bitch, she might have developed a demand for respect. Or at least manners. Or an apology. Or something.
She just didn't want to be left hanging.
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Sumati
the Sinbird
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The old bag of pale bones stares with eyes an opaque slumber. Sumati wonders to herself what kind of sights have swirled in the ancient irises. He must have lived a diligent life, because he certainly shows that age takes a massive toll on a good horse. The Sinbird flicks an ear to retrieve the sly old man's ignorant insult. The Dragon's Throat had the best medics as she was aware. The young colt, Cera, who had been attacked by the two-horned fool of the Basin was safely cured by the Illuminant. The tobaino mare knew that her herd was a place to be proud of.
"I would insure you the best of care, wise-one. The Dragon's Throat Shamans are of premium healing capability, knack, and have been training for all seasons, even gifted by the Gods. You could say that all who fulfill our positions are a proven even by those of ambrosial entity." A foot rests casually as she talks, the feeling of making herself appear monarchical faded, even though she already towers over them both. Sumati hears the old balding Pegasus rasp a croaky, inelegant snap that whiplashes above even her head.
Hazel eyes flicker, focusing on the syrup colored gaze of the elderly woman, but with an unamused sigh the Sultana opens her mouth to speak, "are you sure you don't wish to find a place to stay? Healer or not, residing in the bleak open is a very dangerous act. Many have been slain by creatures of the night, and the racist emigrates that pass through these ancient woods. This is not a place for the defenseless, and the more time we spend in the veil of the night, the closer these malignant creatures come." As she finishes the pale stallion has already turned away, and the old mare goes yelling after him. Sumati's maw dips ajar, and she has no other choice but to follow them, determined and intrigued to accept the challenge of claiming them.
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Kronos
In a world full of twists and cruelty
The corpse has countless stories to tell
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Actions | "Speech" | Thoughts
The stud stopped in his tracks, swaying back and forth lightly. His wings rustled as they folded against his sides. He turned his head to look back at the pair of them through a thick forelock now hiding both his eyes from view although he could easily see them through the strands. There was a wide smile on his lips as he looked at the older mare who was following him more closely than the other. "Ahhh... but, what kind of words, I wonder? That's always the question, isn't it? Sad words, happy words, angry words, insane words, loving words, words of awe, words of fear, words of apology, words of disdain, words of contentment, or even some mismatched words of pleasure... keheheheh... I'll have you know I'm a little too old for that, an if you're following me because you're interested, I'm not."
He stamped a back hoof as if in finality but the tone of his voice was lilting, almost song-like, and he didn't seem to be serious at all. The little pony then turned his hidden gaze to the younger mare, her words catching up with his mind. "Yes, but healers ain't the same as they were when I was a lad. Cuttin' corners and forgetting some of the more important herbs. Keh!" He turned his head away from her to spit on the ground and then flicked his mangled tail. "The concoction that could cure me's probably been long forgotten by now. I wouldn't trust them youngsters who call themselves healers with a salve for cuts, much less with the healing of the goings on in my head. But, you have a point."
He conceded as she spoke of the dangers of the forest at night. He gave her an appraising eye and then snorted again, softer this time. Turning around and very unsteady on his feet, he shook his forelock out of his eyes and gave her a steady look with both golden eyes now visible. No one could say he was blind if they'd seen his clear, amber gaze. "Alright then. Lead the way oh wise one... keheheheh" Opening up his wings, he beat them down wards and lifted himself off the ground with a shockwave of air-pressure. The flap sounded like the beat of a Bass Drum THUMP! Another beat of his leathery wings and he was 5 feet above the ground. THUMP! And another, he was even higher. When he was a good way above them, but still under the canopy of the trees, he hovered above them, the flap of his wings creating more drum beats as he flapped to keep himself airborn.
He seemed to be just as unsteady in the air as he was on the ground, sine he kept swaying from side to side and dropping a few feet unpredictably. However, his flight, rough as it was, was stable. He could fly perfectly well for an old man, proving that even if he was elderly, he could still fly, and move out of the way of danger perfectly well on his own. Still, he was interested to see how far the young one was willing to take him to be "safe." Also, he was curious about this herd of hers. Sufficiently enough so that he was willing to travel with her.
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Calvariam, played by M.E.
Sumati, played by Tay
Well, that escalated quickly. xD
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*“I'll have you know I'm a little too old for that, an if you're following me because you're interested, I'm not."*
Cal was almost speechless with the outright nerve and nonsensical aspects of the reply that came from the deranged stud-- almost. She took a deep, noisy breath through her nose, stomping her foot as she came to a halt, her ears pinned as she replied icily, “As if you could get somm’a this even if I cared!” She was very nearly screaming, as incensed as she was, “I’m talkin’ ‘bout an apology, ya scaly bast’ad! Walkin’ in ta everythin’ in shit! Who the hell you think you are?” As fast and loudly as she was talking, her speech wasn’t coming out as proper or coherent as she might’ve wanted. Whatever. At least she was making her point.
Cal watched as the scaly son of a bitch climbed into the air, flapping his large, heavy wings and rising high above him, continuing his mad, annoying cackle as he lifted himself into the heavens. Her eyes were things full of flame and brimstone, and with every thud of his wings, her own shoulders pulsated with the lingering soreness of her last flight. She was in no shape to follow him, and she had to tell herself that over and over again to keep her feet ground-based. If she attempted to follow him, her hooves would thrash wildly into the air, attempting to kick his bony ass; she was in no fit state to even support herself, much less an impassioned assault, and she knew that to try it would make her look much too foolish. Instead, Calvariam contented herself with snorting wildly, loudly, and messily at the airborne stallion, loosing a low, gut-shaking whinny as she did so, a testament to her frustration. Gah! She just wanted to be rid of him.
Cal turned her heel, almost forgetting about the irritating nymphet that insisted that Cal join a herd that held no appeal to her. She would have ignored the mare too, but the word “defenseless” floated in the air and entered Cal’s ear, and on top of the outrageous irritation Cal was feeling toward the scaly stud, a healthy dollop of insult entered Cal’s mind. Defenseless?! Crying out in a guttural neigh that was more commonly associated with battling stallions, Cal’s ears glued themselves parallel to her neck, and her hind leg lashed out smoothly and whippet-quick, with the practiced, efficient motion of a seasoned veteran. She was too far ahead of the mare for her hoof to get anywhere near her; nevertheless, after the lightning-fast retaliation to the mare’s offending words, Cal’s hoof stayed in the air, an overhanging threat.
“Let them come!” she hissed, watching the mare behind her and letting the frustration bubble to the surface, “I ain’t got time fo’ no foolish games, girl! If I’m gonna die tonight, I’mma die, an’ I’ll be damned if I run off from my fate to some herd with my tail between ma legs!” It had been so pleasant earlier, and now she had to deal with these simpletons. Was life trying to give her a lesson? Or just be a prick?
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Sumati
the Sinbird
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The Sultana has no idea how to react to the sneering madness of old people. She watches with intrigued eyes, partially stunned by their loudness. The tobiano quickly makes a wish to the stars behind the overhang of ugly mist that these two fools would at least calm down a second for her to open advertisement. Didn't they at least know that the Threshold smelt like a collaboration of races? Didn't they understand the reason why they are here?
Or did they simply not have the brains anymore?
The alabaster stallion continues to spit his nonsensical and annoying retorts while the spitfire mare rebounds with misunderstood defense. Sumati feels left alone in all of this as the elders constantly charge with mistaken or too over thought voice. She arches her 'brows, feeling awfully compelled to leave the two mad fools in it for themselves. Apparently, the Sinbird's mystical talk only worked for the filthy male, noticing his gigantic wings beat the air. Out of the corner of her hazel eye she spots a pale hoof swing at her haunch. She gathers herself, lifting off into the sky with the possibly willing male. Circling above the circus act of a mare she calls down to her, voice loud but smooth, "if you're willing, mare, you're welcome in the Throat as well."
All Sumati knows, is that she is way in over her head. She expected the two to be a sweet old couple from a far off ridge, tired and hungry, seeking refuge in a herd where they could rest. They were her one last stop before fatigue truly wore her body down. But she was obviously mistaken, finding herself in one of the most awkward situations of her life. She whisks away, hoping the pale stallion would be in tow, but not certain. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.
ooc; Sorry but Sumati is weirded out and too tired to deal with Calvariam xD |
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Actions | "Speech" | Thoughts
Kronos seemed to have already forgotten the older mare as he swayed about from side to side in midair, reveling in the feel of weightlessness as he flapped his leathery wings. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as he watched the young thing circle around him, calling words he did not pay any attention to down towards the raggedy pile of bones beneath them. When the Sinbird banked away through the trees, he followed willingly enough. He still did not know her name, nor did she know his. He planned to keep it that way, at least on his part. As they rose above the trees, his wings created bass drum-like throbs as he had no feathers to lessen the impact of air resistance against his skin. Still, regardless of how much he had swayed earlier, or how filthy he was, or how emaciated he looked, no one could say he was not still a powerful, skilled flier. He banked with the air currents, gaining and falling in altitude as necessary and keeping with her for the most part.
Eventually, though, he knew he would need to break the silence that had stretched between them and he snorted to grab her attention above the rush of the wind. "Where's this Throat you're takin' me to see? The poor bastard it belongs to got a sore one or...Is he dyin'? Oh, I hope not. Death by sickness is the worst way to go. Decapitation however... keheheh." he broke off into a fit of those creepy giggles he had employed several times so far. When he quieted again, he flapped his wings once to maintain altitude. "Erm, anyways, I like to know where it is I'm staying and who I'm staying with. You never told me your name." He said, seemingly growing serious for once.
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Sumati, played by Tay
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I'm adding him to the Throat now. This thread can be closed?
Yes, we can continue in the Dragons Throat.
If you want to answer his questions. xD
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I've got one hoof in the grave already [open]
