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O r a s
The heat of the Dragon's Throat Tallsun air was dense and stung the colt's fresh wounds from his previous mother. He had stuck mostly to Aryel on the journey over to the Throat, but had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the desert.
It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Orange and yellow hues vibrating from every rock and grain of sand, the sky burning a deep blue, though not quite as deep as his little blue eyes. Oras' mouth hung open, but he almost immediately closed it due to sand prying it's way onto his vulnerable tongue through a little wind.
Oras walked forward on wobbly legs, suddenly feeling a little light headed. Maybe coming to the Throat had been a bad idea after all. He was tired and weak from the walk, not to mention he had gotten very little sleep the past couple months of his life. Though the little colt pushed on, determined to get to somewhere he could call home.
"Speech"
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| Dragon's Throat Soldier |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.4 :: 4 |
| FennecFyre |
Traveling alongside the foal, Aryel couldn't help but grin as he stopped in awe of the Throat. "I was that same way." she said to him, recalling her first time in the Throat. "Although I was more focused on the grullo pegasus that had crash-landed into a sand dune not too far from me. Levi turned out to be a pretty good friend, and now he's my fellow Sergeant." They traveled for a few more minutes until they came to the central oasis. Nourished by the huge lake, grass grew in abundance here, making it an excellent place to find both food and water, and one of the herd's most frequent meeting places. She scanned the horizon, looking for other Throat horses. Most of the soldiers were on patrol this time of day, and the noncombatants were probably seeking shade. Aryel reared up onto her hind legs, sending a far-carrying neigh across the sands, requesting the presence of a leader, and possibly a healer, as well as a general announcement that they had a new herd member.
When her breath ran out, she dropped back to the ground to await a response. She looked back at Oras again, concern crossing her features for a moment. He was still in fragile condition, and she would need to ensure he recovered and put on a little weight. She was pretty sure foals weren't supposed to be as scrawny as he was. After they had spoken with an official, maybe she would show him around the Throat, or simply tell him the locations of a few landmarks and then find a place for him to take a much-needed rest, if he preferred. At the back of her mind, she worried that some might take offense to a unicorn joining their ranks, what with the tensions between them and the Basin, but they already had a couple of unicorns in their midst, only an idiot would argue at this point.
(Hey, can you add "healer" to the thread title if you want someone to take a look at Oras's injuries?)
Walk walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk talk."
In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style>
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image by gpabill @ flickr.com
Thanks for the good times, and no hard feelings for the bad times.
Vicer and Aryel's new threads never happened.
O r a s
Oras gazed up at Aryel, an admirable look glimmering in his deep blue eyes as she spoke of the stallion, 'Levi.' He nodded his head, looking at the red dunes as she continued to speak. "Maybe I'll get to meet this Levi one day," Oras said, a weak smile appearing on his face for a split second before disappearing.
It seemed as if everyone in the herd had a specific duty or role to be played out. If that was true, what would his role in the Throat be? Oras pondered on this thought as they walked the rest of the way to the oasis. He didn't want to be a fighter like Aryel, or Levi, oh no. They were probably very graceful and majestic in battle, but Oras had no intentions of ever wanting to hurt someone.
Still clueless about his future role in the herd, Oras stopped alongside Aryel as she neighed across the lands. He flicked his ears back tentatively, his shy side kicking in. If they didn't like him, or chose to outcast him, Oras wasn't sure what he'd do. Especially if he lost Aryel.
The thought sent a shiver up his spine as he pressed his flank onto Aryel's, hoping she wouldn't draw back. He ignored the burning of his cuts as he pressed against Aryel and hid his horned face in her feathers. The last thing Oras wanted was for the herd members to dislike him, and if that meant hiding, then so be it.
"Speech"
[ooc: done c:]
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sumati
you glorify the past when the future dries up
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Sumati felt it best that she took to the skies on clear days like this. The rippled dunes proved too much effort of the muscles in Tallsun heat. She hopes everyone is getting their share of the oasis today.
As she flies, sunburn nestles in her white patches, the skin tight and red burns ache around the pale wing joints as she heaves herself into the sky. The Sultana's vibrant eyes seer out into the blaze of mirage on the horizons, the arid Chinook breathes into them and they feel as if set ablaze. Hazel flames. She snorts with displeasure, tail flicking in annoyance - it cracks like a tree limb switch against her thigh. Anger runs in high temperatures, especially today. She thinks of how deadly beauty can be, knowing the conditions of the Throat were severe. If only there were less sand, sun, and snakes.
Sumati soon picks up speed in the skies, finding solace in the tendrils of crooning Chinook. The gale sings into her mane, and finally the mare relaxes, if even for a little bit it is enough. She doesn't feel as constricted in the clam skies when heading out towards her borders. She stretches the brown tips of her wings while settling in with a sigh. The Sinbird is not all relaxed though vaguely remembering the grave warning Kri sent at the herd meeting. Her voice still answers like an annoying beep in the back of her brain. She will do something about this Tio after the day ends and morning emerges.
Her eyes, as they scan the daunting horizon, catch a glimpse of Aryel reentering the sandy borders. The Sinbird descends, eventually taking notice of the unicorn colt. Her pale hooves sink into the ripples of desert, a wave of heat flashing over as muscles coil into grace. The huge mare folds her wings and slips into a smooth canter, before rolling into a square halt. Aryel's black eyes receive attention first, locking with the Sinbird's hazel blaze in casual greeting, hazel eyes are soft with respect for the Sergeant. Sumati's unmarked face, chiseled with approval, glances to the young boy's secondly. She takes in his features, first noticing wounds cut deep all over the poor child's body, old blood leaks from the gashes, and the boy doesn't look fazed. Only then do her eyes capture the dark horn glinting in the sun. A smile grows on her face then, as she realizes the potential this colt has as a warrior. Foot soldier would do him well, especially if he began his training now.
"Hello, son," she greets with a smooth, tender voice. "Welcome to the Dragon's Throat. I am Sumati the Sinbird, Chancellor here. We would be more than happy to have you, dear." She dips her head politely, hoping to flatter the young prospect. "We'll get you a healer for those wounds and then you can settle in. You look exhausted." The mare approaches his muzzle, meeting halfway with her own, genuinely feeling pity for the young colt. However, behind this pity is an emotion of triumph for herself and the Throat. More capable, young minds would serve well here and she knew that war was approaching fast.
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| Dragon's Throat Soldier |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.4 :: 4 |
| FennecFyre |
"Maybe." she answered. "I haven't seen him around much recently, but we tend to wander a lot anyway." Wingbeats, as well as Oras pressing himself against her own wing, heralded the arrival of their Chancellor. She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning as Oras stayed pressed to her side like a shy foal. Which he really was, she reflected. She felt another pang of pity for the child that had been abandoned so young. Sumati seemed able to defuse the situation, though, speaking with a soft, gentle voice. Aryel had caught her covert glance towards his horn, but she seemed not to mind at all, which was an enormous relief for the blue roan. "I'm grateful for the welcome, Chancellor." she said with a slight bob of her head. Her expression fell slightly as she began to explain why such someone his age was without any guardians. "I found Oras at the Threshold along with a mute stallion trying to console him." she said. "His mother abandoned him, but not before giving him a few parting injuries, as you can see. I'm going to be looking out for him from now on." She turned her head to regard Oras. "If you'd like that, that is."
Still, inside she worried she wouldn't be able to give him the level of care he needed. She wanted to take care of him, she really did, but she didn't know the first thing about children. Even as a filly herself, she had been more concerned with running wild and sparring with the colts than playing gentler games with the other girls, and her mother's attempts at educating her about rearing children tended to end as soon as she got bored and ran off. Was he even old enough to graze? Would it be awkward to ask? There were no lactating mares in the Throat as far she knew, which could pose a problem as young as he was. Aryel fought down her blossoming panic before it could become noticeable and tried to regain her calm exterior. She would take it one step at a time, right?
Walk walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk talk."
In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style>
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image by gpabill @ flickr.com
Thanks for the good times, and no hard feelings for the bad times.
Vicer and Aryel's new threads never happened.
O r a s
It seemed as if everyone in the sand place, the Dragon's Throat, had wings. Envy sparked in Oras as he stayed next to Aryel, gazing at the newest mare, Sumati the Sinbird, she had said her name was. Sumati seemed nice enough with a welcoming gaze and flattering motions. He blushed and looked at his little black hooves that blazed against the red sand.
Oras nodded his head slowly as Sumati touched her muzzle to his own, finally daring to take his gaze off of the ground. Next Aryel spoke, though he didn't hear much of it but the end. She wanted to take care of him? To be his new mommy?
"I would like that very much," Oras said, looking up to Aryel with as much respect as he would a God. A shred of doubt still hung in the young colt's mind as he realized he was pressing up against a mare with wings. They all had wings, just like his mother.
No. He couldn't think like that. Aryel was his new mother and she would never do the things that his old one did to him, ever. He knew that for a fact. Oras could suddenly feel the heat intensifying on his black coat, attracting the sun as well as giving his gashes a burning feeling. The colt shifted closer to Aryel in an attempt to get out of the heat. Where was a healer when you actually needed one?
"Speech"
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| Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT |
| Whit |
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We wandered today, beneath a strange, shady patch of cloudcover on an otherwise sunny day. It hovered in the heavens above us, keeping us cool in the midday heat, a breeze that was unseasonably chilly seemed to swirl around us too. Her mood was dark, as it always was recently, but she strode now towards a gathering with a different perspective. The art of healing was one she had not originally intended on following, she had only entered it because her father had insisted upon it. Now he was gone, a lesser being would have defected back to what she thought was a more respectable path, that of a warrior, a protector, a defender of all that is good in the world. But since his passing, she had tried harder than ever to devote herself to the cause, to obey his last wish and become something greater than he could have ever imagined.
The little bundle of a colt that was flecked with black and blue seemed out of sorts, that much she could see in her approach. My little cloud bowed her (currently) gentle visage to the leader present, Sumati, as well as the Sergeant, before allowing her attention to deviate solely onto the young colt. I walk between her legs, sleek and lanky still, growing slowly but surely taller with every passing day - soon my back will scrape the base of my beloved's chest as I stand between her forelegs, but not yet. I allow my crown to tilt curiously at the colt, my nose sniffing the air - I offer my insight into the blood present upon the dark colt's hide to my beloved, and she nods absently as the sensations tickle the back of her mind. "I'm Cirrus, a healer." She says simply, having heard the tail-end of Sumati's words.
"He needs water, and food." She spoke decidedly, the edge of her voice taking on a command as she looked to the elders. He had bumps and bruises upon him yes, but what concerned my little cloud most was the exhaustion and dehydration that threatened to steal him away from consciousness. "He will have to make do with solid food, as long as he keeps up his fluids, he will be OK." Here she lifted her wings, and her body seemed to take on a certain glow, as the magic of Light and Fire prepared to make an appearance in the form of healing. She looked to the others first, however, seeking permission to use her gift on a mere foal, when they may need it later on to patch up a battle-weary warrior.
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as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat
I enjoy being tagged.
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
sumati
you glorify the past when the future dries up
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I pitched a smile to Aryel once again in approval of her decision. I thought it was an excellent idea to let the Sargent take on motherly responsibility, especially since I knew her rank was destined to rub off on him now. I dipped for the sake of casual respect, finding endless possibilities in the horn he possessed. I found her voice lovely, glancing to the boy with ears pricked and eyes elated. I heard more of Aryel’s speech sing into my eardrums, but there was mourn in this voice, and it stung me in the parts of my body where the boy’s wounds grew. This child wouldn’t be of the slightest importance for anyone to waste away pain. Pain was only to inflict when needed, and a child did not deserve the slashes of sin. I could only see pain used when someone is old enough to understand it.
“Dearest Gods,” I exclaimed through hissy teeth. “Young boy, you are safest here with Aryel at your aid. She is one of the most trusted in this herd, and you will neither be forgotten or abused. I will assure the nightmare of your past never lay an eye on your hide. Oras, there is nothing to fear in the Dragon’s Throat.” Except maybe war…
“Such an inexcusable act,” I muttered in the haste of things returning to the black reflection of the Sergeant’s gaze, “You’d be a great foster, teach him everything you’ve come to know, Aryel. I respect you greatly for the good of this deed.”
The pain in my heart subsided for a moment, taking a breath of arid air, lungs finding a trace of solace in the sands of Tallsun. My mind flicked back to normal things, remembering duties that sought fulfillment.
War was approaching faster than I’d imagined, in fact it was coming like the offshore monsoon bloom –and that came all too literally. My eyes were a soggy pool as the young, devastated healer child appeared as a blue sheen of sadness in the desert. Her color, a reflection of a dusky sky, and clouds of madness raged across her hair. My heart wept for the girl a few days earlier. Her soul was trembling, and I could see it clearly, painted across her coat in wild whisks like storm clouds. I cried at the death of the General. I hate to admit, but not for him alone; I was locked away in the sympathy of what my eyes did not want to behold. They did not want to see the shattered, crumple of muscle and feather below, a path of blood trailing from his lips. But they truly did not want to find the tears of such a beautiful, honest family falling in dark dapples along his coat. I did not want to see his last baptism.
The child brought along the other half of her heart, Sitka. I found his watery eyes for a moment, remembering the call in his throat that took us all by our necks and dragged us into the depths of the carved caverns. His young eyes were not the same as hers, though. He was grieving, but he was not grief-stricken. I looked away from him, the call an echo bouncing away in the walls of my head, desperate to find a way out of the despair I knew she felt. I even knew that loss was the one of hardest things to deal with, next to the pain of watching loss pass by in someone’s eye like an ugly cloud.
I wished away the thoughts in my head, a sympathetic smile lifting the corners of my brown, stained lips. She’d returned to her duty, and I didn’t expect that from her. She was so young, too young to have to deal with such heartache. She still healed others, despite her own gaping wounds. I wished I could heal them, make her stronger so she could move away from what pained her. I hated watching pain. I wished to quell it.
The child earned a bow from me, tall frame sweeping the ground in one sandy, graceful swoop. “Thank you, Cirrus,” I replied as her body ignited with the croon of magic. I couldn’t find anything else to say, watching the glow of the Throat’s medic resonate to his deep wounds. |
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| Dragon's Throat Soldier |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.4 :: 4 |
| FennecFyre |
She was relieved when Oras accepted her as his foster mother. She reached her head down to give the top of his head a quick, gentle nuzzle, then looked up, perplexed, as the sky darkened slightly as a cold wind gusted for a few seconds. Did storms form that quickly here? But no, it was no natural storm. Approaching them was their younger, newly-fatherless healer Cirrus. Aryel felt pity for the filly as the mare took in her depressed posture, reflected by the cold weather that seemed to surround her. There were many in the herd who mourned Azzuen's death, but Cirrus and her mother seemed to be taking it hardest, of course. As always, the little black and blue pup followed her around, her companion no doubt. The thought of death brought to mind the looming threat of Tio, and while now she had begun to think he was just bluffing and would never have the backbone to fight them, she still worried. If war did break out, she knew Oras would need to be kept safe. And while it was extremely unlikely, in the event they did loose, she worried about how life as a nomad would affect his health. But for now, she needed to focus on the present.
Aryel's ears pricked up as the healer spoke, explaining that Oras, while malnourished, would be able to subsist on solid food if he drank plenty of water. She tried not to sigh with relief. That took care of the oh-so-awkward nursing question she worried she would have to pose. Well, she knew good places to graze, and the water hole had never run dry in the three seasons she had been here. Once his wounds were healed, maybe she could find him a meal too. As Cirrus began to delve into her healing magic, she gave Oras a reassuring look and nodded to the roan healer.
She turned her attention back to Sumati as she spoke, feeling slightly embarrassed as Sumati lauded her for taking Oras under her wing and calling her trustworthy. She did, however, agree with what she said about his previous mother. "Thank you, Chancellor." she said with a nod.
Walk walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk talk."
In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style>
|
image by gpabill @ flickr.com
Thanks for the good times, and no hard feelings for the bad times.
Vicer and Aryel's new threads never happened.
O r a s
A new filly stepped into Oras' view, a blue and black roan she was. The weather shifted almost instantly, but the colt didn't take much notice, only peered up at the new storm curiously. He then turned his gaze back to the pegasus filly. She presented herself as Cirrus, a healer, and seemed quite friendly. Everyone here seemed friendly.
The colt didn't take much notice of the rest of the conversation the older horses were having, but did in fact, take note of the glow Cirrus had obtained and the dog that followed in her wake. Why was she glowing? And why did she have a dog that followed her around? Cirrus was getting stranger by the second.
Oras sighed weakly as he looked back to his hooves. The sun was hot on his coat, as well as the cuts that bore into his skin. It was uncomfortable for him, not to mention how strained he was from his journey. Oras greatly wanted to curl up under a tree, or in a shallow pond, where he'd be cool and could rest. He barely even noticed Aryel's touch or the other adult's talking. The colt was numb to the world.
"Speech"
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| Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT |
| Whit |
Yes I know - I havea Busy status up. Will try to get to this today, but can't make promises.
as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat
I enjoy being tagged.
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
| Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT |
| Whit |
|
I watch as they look at us, as they see the melancholy that plagues, the depression that threatens to swallow my little cloud child. She has grown so much in the time that I have known her, and yet, this sadness wears upon her, it drowns any happiness that I might be able to offer her, it rolls across her hide as clearly as the clouded skies above us. Even as the fiery light of magic illuminates her form, that sadness does not shift, it is merely masked. The healing magic does bring a smile to her face, it is a kind, warm smile, as she receives the permission to use it upon this colt. She is excited to be able to bring less pain to others, less suffering, even if she was unable to alleviate her own. My little cloud steps towards the colt, her soft muzzle outstretched, towards him, and upon making contact, she encourages the flow of magic to move from herself to him. It is a curious thing to behold, that of light dancing from within the breast of my beloved, to the surface, across the point of contact forged by her nose.
It dances lightly from healer to patient, and I know though my bonded that it leaves a warm sensation in its wake, like the comforting embrace of a hug from one's mother. Cirrus orchestrates it to work upon the young Oras now, to restore his strength, to seal the cuts that mar his hide, to cure any infections that might try to plague him. Thin lines of almost healed scabs remain once my beloved calls the magic back to herself, her smile fading as she does so, the moment of happiness having passed. The young nurse takes a step back, away from the colt now, looking over her handiwork as I sniff the air with my sensitive nostrils, confirming that she had, as always, done an exemplary job. I move my form to her side once more, our matching eyes meeting fondly as I try to cling to the happiness that I saw before - but with a shift in the chilly wind that surrounds us, I know it has already been lost, despite my urgings for it to remain. I try regardless, as my beloved releases a tired sigh from her lungs - the task of a healer was one that not only utilised the magic of the lands, but also the mind and body of the healer - she was but a vessel for the great powers that resided here, and they were a burden as much as they were a blessing.
"Are you feeling better, Oras?" Her angelic voice inquired to the colt, her façade attempting to place a smile on her lips, but it is weak and shaky, small and outshined by the otherwise dreary outlook on her visage. She asked the question as a confirmation, a hope that at least in this task, she would not fail.
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as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat
I enjoy being tagged.
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
| Dragon's Throat Soldier |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.4 :: 4 |
| FennecFyre |
(Posting with bry's permission to wrap the thread up)
As Cirrus worked her magic, Aryel couldn't resist being impressed. She wondered what it was like to have magic. Was it difficult to control? When the display of light was finished, Aryel bent her head to examine his coat, surprised at how much better he look. He was still tottering on his feet, though, and she figured it was time for his adventures to end for the day. She nudged Oras gently on his shoulder. "I know a spot where you can rest up." she said quietly, recalling her den within a bramble patch. He would be shielded from the hot sun there. When twilight took dominion over day, she could find him something to eat without worrying about him collapsing from heatstroke. Surely Kri wouldn't mind if she took the rest of the day off? The soldiers didn't do much these days anyway aside from meeting newcomers.
She looked back at the two adults. "I'll take care of him from here. Thank you, both of you." She wondered how Oras would do in the Throat. Aside from Cera, she wasn't sure there were many his age. And while her job did not take her far from the Throat, she still frequently roamed over Helovia. One thing was for sure, though. He would receive much better treatment than his mother had given him. She stepped away from the group, waiting for Oras to follow.
(Bry doesn't need to reply unless she wants to, I just did this to officially finish the thread.)
Walk walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk talk."
In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style>
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image by gpabill @ flickr.com
Thanks for the good times, and no hard feelings for the bad times.
Vicer and Aryel's new threads never happened.
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