Balkin
I wish you not a path devoid of clouds,
nor a life on a bed of roses.
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The spring rains are relentless. The clear drenching droplets plummet to the ground exploding as they meet their demise. The sky is dreary and grey, bringing a sense of nostalgia to the scene. Occasionally sparks of lightening flash through the weeping canvas, accompany by a vibrant clack of thunder. Honestly, the whole storm is a beautiful symphony of music and wonderful displays that speak to everyone on some small level.The play of lightening and thunder was enriching to watch; however, it is the mud and muck the storm leaves in it's wake that is such a bother to traipse through, even under the shielding layers of canopy that loomed over head.
The squishing sound of Balkin's cloven hooves sinking into the soft liquified soil made her ears twitch in annoyance. Her characteristic predatory golden eyes are sharp and watching with continued caution. Balkin was never one to trust easily. She circles a small clearing within the threshold, reluctant to leave her security of outlining trees. Circling for a few more minutes, Balkin watches and listens for anything or anyone that might be out on the prowl. Finally, the entity once known as Balkin the obscured, steps from her fortress of trees and eases into the open. This place was familar; yet, it was not. She tilts and swivels her head for a better glimpse at the area, before turning her glare towards the leaking heavens.
The roan unicorn had been on her own since the decimating sundering of Isilme. Much like before she had wondered into the Woodlands, she is once again a nomad. She held no direction or course. She simply walks and travels, never really staying in one place for to long. Her unwavering mask of diplomacy forever in place. It did not take long for forest to beckon Balkin back into it's arms. Her black threaded tail swishes at the thought of returning, the motion of her tail slings water onto her already flooded coat. The water that saturated her dappled roan coat, makes her appear darker then usually, only her white face mask stands out like a lighthouse beacon. she fights the urge she slip back into her comfort zone, and instead lowered her head to lip at the wet greenery beneath her. Her slender lobes were erect continuing to monitor her surroundings.
"Unicorn x Mare x 10 x Blue Roan x Unclaimed x No Lover"
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Ulrik the Engineer Posts: 235
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 11 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Kirchoff :: Common Hellhound :: Superspeed
Tamme |
07-09-2012, 05:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-09-2012, 05:42 PM by Ulrik.)
ULRIK
I'm not the only one who can't see why it crossed your mind
I see your life and death reduced into a product line
Engineering took muse, inspiration and desire. He needed to explore, look around at his environment and take in nature's deep designs. Ironically and much to his chagrin, he found most of his muse at the border of this land, so he walked among hot and sweating boughs and dried leaves. The wolf whirred and clinked at his heels, soullessly wandering after its master, vacant. Empty.
As he stared forward, bronze, mad eyes watched the storm thunder and rain... just beyond Helovia's borders. The stallion sneered and rumbled angrily at the sun god, casting his bearded chin toward the skies. Damn him. The crunching of leaves and the scent of wet dirt alerted him to the encroachment of another, and the stallion's black ears fell back against his neck. To say that he was in a mood was an understatement. He was getting sick of the hornless and their arrogance, sick of this heat that made him feel miserable.
Would it be another wretch who wandered into the heat abused land? The engineer moved forward into the trees, the mechanical wolf at his side listening like his master. Finally, bronzed eyes settled on a dark, blue mare - a horned mare. The stallion calmed considerably, and he studied her like a true academic - with extreme scrutiny. "Welcome to hell," he growled in his deep, masculine voice. "You will not expect rains here for some time."
[OOC: Just a note, there has been no rain here for some time because the sun god is being a tyrant. Environment Damages ]
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Credits
Balkin
I wish you not a path devoid of clouds,
nor a life on a bed of roses.
|
The spring rains had melted away leaving only the dry heat in it's wake. Having wondered into the area of brittle grass and shriveled trees. Balkin closes her golden wolf like eyes trying to imagine this place in it's hay day. The tree tops with their thick canopies spread out and waving in the gentle winds. The emerald blades that should be resting beneath her feet, giving off a soft thunk instead the harsh crackling sound that leaves little to the imagination. Grimacing she pulls herself from her minds painting of the scenery. Her senses once again bombarded with the sizzling image of fried decay.
Balkin's ears swiveled at the sound of someone approaching. She listened intently to the cracking of leaves and dried grass beneath the unknown entity's weight. She made no attempt to acknowledge the presence of another unless they made a move towards her. Lowering her head once again she moved her plush muzzle to run along the brown waterless excuses for grass. I wonder exactly what has happened here? Balkin always had a soft spot from broken things. Like the Woodlands of her past, which she tried to rebuild. It seems so bleak and desolate... For the first time in as long as she could remember, her thoughts were turned towards the softer less carnivorous side of her personality.
Welcome to hell. Balkin kept her head lowered for a few moments longer. The only sign that she even heard his comment was the almost cat like way her tail twitched, seemingly at the command of his voice. With a gentle ease she finally raised her head to eye him. Her mask fell easily into place, always the diplomat. Her eyes were bright and thoughtful as she picked through his words." Why will there be no rain? If there is no rain how will you continue to live here? Or are you simply passing through as well? She turned a sweeping gaze around at the wilted landscape. She had no knowledge of the gods that dwell within the borders of Helovia; however, chances are she would find them fascinating.
"Unicorn x Mare x 10 x Blue Roan x Unclaimed x No Lover"
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Ulrik the Engineer Posts: 235
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 11 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Kirchoff :: Common Hellhound :: Superspeed
Tamme |
ULRIK
I'm not the only one who can't see why it crossed your mind
I see your life and death reduced into a product line
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Would this day never end? Dragging onward and cruelly forward with no sense of urgency. Not that the mare was not fine company, but explaining the workings of this damned place yet again was dismal. The stallion flicked his tail in irritation, his mind rebelling at repetition. For an engineer, having to repeat was the height of agony to the working, ever mad mind. He chose to answer the original questions first; ones he had not been asked before. "I live here. My talents are appreciated in my herd."
The implication was that his talents were not appreciated before, and they were not. He was not keen on giving away more information than necessary. The machine-wolf moved up to Ulrik's side and stood with a vacant dutiful expression - one that never changed or shifted. Deep, right lit eyes stared emptily ahead, soulless. "The glaciers from the north melt and provide enough water for now. If the Goddess of the Moon does not act quickly, we will be forced to evacuate," he stated rather flatly, tail twitching at his his fetlocks.
He inhaled her scent deeply. "Your scent is familiar to a few of my brethren. Isilme? Your old home?" he asked curiously. The stallion had heard whispers of the land from his own nomadic herd, but they had never ventured beyond its borders. Being at the mercy of an ancient, fucking zombie with one wing and half a horn seemed too demeaning to their bright and glowing pride. The thought of taking orders from any creature with feathers, no matter how crippled, disgusted the stallion.
The gods here were at the very least gods. Their wings served a purpose and were not a mutation. A sick and genetically twisted defect. "The gods rule here, directly. They do not send cursed messengers to do their bidding," he growled in irritation. Then, the stallion grew thoughtful, his bronze eyes taking on a wild, brilliant light. "Though they could merely be physical representations of a much more powerful being, messengers in a metaphysical sense..." he trailed.
Strangely, the stallion turned, lost within his own mind. He began walking toward his home, muttering about wild and fantastical things.
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Credits
Balkin
I wish you not a path devoid of clouds,
nor a life on a bed of roses.
|
Her intellegent eyes bore into Ulrik. She stares at him as if he were under a microscope and she was the scientist at the other end of the lens. Balkin was not known of her trust, it was often something that had to be earned and obviously she did not even know this individual. His words and implications fell upon her ears making them twitch in response. She opened her mouth as if she were about to speak, only to close it and lower her head.
Her delicate brow furrowed together as she stared at the metallic wolf that stood obediently at Ulriks side. Balkin extended her velveteen muzzle and breathed deeply. It was unnatural and she was not sure what to make of it. Lifting her head she turned her gaze onto the unicorn. Her eyes and thoughts burned with questions about the soulless animal that stood unwavering; however she knew it would be rude to simply interrupt his spill.
An so Balkin continued to listen to Ulriks explanations about the north snow melting and the Moon Goddess, but it was when he brought up the name of Isilme. She flinched at the name as she felt a pang of pain with in her chest. " You are very observant. I am from Isilme. I am Balkin the obscure." Her answer was low and held a touch of sadness. She missed her woodlands and the comfort she drew from the ancient rune marked trees.
As from the gods, Goddess and decrepit messengers, Balkin had little use for them. They have never graced her with anything but death and decay. Perhaps that is what has shaped her belief in nothing at all. "All this talk about gods and goddess. I doubt that is what they truly are. They may have amazing powers that far surpass our own, and play with our lives as if it is their purpose; However, I would not label them as gods or goddess." Her thoughts on this subject has long since become warped.
She fell back into silence as she listened to Ulrik's interesting take on their so called gods. Her threaded tail swished about, as she watched him turn to leave muttering to himself about flights of fancy. She started after him. "Wait! I have a question for you! What is that wolfish creature?" Balkin knew that question had little to do with what they had previously been speaking about, but curiosity sometimes got the best of her.
"Unicorn x Mare x 10 x Blue Roan x Unclaimed x No Lover"
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