the Rift


irreversible [hatching; open]

Quilyan Posts: 206
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2 hh :: 10 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zarina :: Pygmy Marmoset :: Quantum Leap ChaoticMelodies
#1

But when his heart was lifted up, and his mind hardened in pride...
Quilyan
...he was deposed from his kingly throne, and they took his glory from him.


For weeks, he has been nervous leaving and returning to the Deep Forest. The egg is fragile, and he knows it, and though he has tried to hide it, he has remained fearful that someone will take it, crush it, harm it in some way. Still, every time he has returned, the egg has been there, tiny, fragile, warm. Its amber shell seems to grow brighter by the day, forever framed by the tiniest shaft of sunlight. On this day, he has brought another, and he is overjoyed by her presence. It is a far cry from when he first found the egg, a day on which he had been lost to loneliness and despair. No, today, he is cheerful, happy, smiling. "Not much farther, my lady," he tells the fae following him. He hopes that the egg is still there, still safe, for he feels that it is close to hatching, and he hopes that she will be there for it.

Sure enough, the beam of light shining through the thick foliage above illuminates the little orb, and he looks back to her with pride. It sits on a nest of leaves and twigs, carefully designed to hold it in place, to shelter it. He has spent many hours staring at it, dreaming about it hatching, hoping that his efforts are not in vain. When he brushes his maw against it, gently, gently, far more gently than he has ever touched anything before, he imagines he can feel the faintest beat of life. "Here," he says, motioning to it, urging her closer, his voice laden with pride, as though a colt eager to show off his most recent prize. But it is more than that; he feels an affection for the egg that he would be hard put to name. He doesn't try to name it, merely acknowledges its existence.

He has lowered his maw to it even now, carefully inspecting it for any changes. Perhaps it is his proximity that allows him to both hear and see the tiny 'pop' of the shell cracking; regardless, his auds prick forward and he snorts his anticipation, for this is the day that he has been waiting for. He watches as the tiny cracks spread over the shell, the most intricate pattern he has ever seen. Slowly, the shell begins to crumble, and violet gaze meets golden as a small, fluffy creature emerges. It is a monkey, the smallest thing he could imagine, brown fur standing on end. Its eyes - her eyes - are rimmed with a honeyed shade of brown, a shade that is scattered amongst the remainder of her brown fluff. She sits on her haunches, a question in her eyes as she surveys the large form before her. I must seem like a monster! he thinks.

"Hello," he says, a breath of a whisper. The youngling cocks its head to the side, regards him with some off emotion, then chirps. A rush of warmth enters his mind, and he is aware that it is not his emotions that he is suddenly feeling. The marmoset reaches for him, her movements slow, hesitant almost, and he feels the gentlest, tiniest of touches on the velvet skin of his maw. This seems to reassure her, for she chirps again, sitting back on her haunches, satisfaction on her tiny face. His lobes flicker, seeking Resplendence, and his motion seems to instruct the creature.

Her large golden eyes move from his face to the mare's, and her voice erupts into a nervous, fearful chitter. She darts quickly along Quilyan's nose, coming to a stop at his poll before he has a chance to react. He is surprised, but resists the urge to throw his head up. Instead, eyes wide, he raises his cranium slowly, reveling in the feeling of the tiny creature settling itself into his mane. "Well," he says almost to himself, amusement and wonder in his tone. "It would appear that I have a new friend." Something tells him to think calming thoughts, and he can sense that his thoughts have a direct influence on hers. It was an irreversible bond, and though he did not know how he had come to have it, he already cherished it. Zarina. That would be her name.

[W/C | ---]
Walk walk walk.
Talk talk talk.
Think think think.

RayoDeSoleil.deviantart.com | Ness8Bit.deviantart.com

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