the Rift


Change is coming || Rishima

Mirage the DragonHeart Posts: 414
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: Eighteen HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Akaith :: Royal Golden Dragon :: Fire Breath Whit
#1

So much had happened.

Her capture, the broken bond, her herd's capture of the Basin's General, the attempts on her friend's lives because of it, her release, Solstice's escape, Xanthos' escape… it was a whirlwind of happenings, all chaotically congesting into a cesspool of disorienting confusion, tumultuous perplexity settling into her mind and giving the WeyrLeader a monumental headache. Golden eyes clicked shut behind charred lids, the mare stood as just that; a dark, shadowy smudge against the landscape of spring forests, letting the trillions of thoughts roll through her head. Saline air pressed against her, lifting the silken threads that grew along the crest of her curved nape. There was much that had already been done; there was still so much to do.

A deep sigh filled the lungs of the mare, drinking in the surrounds; filling her with a great sense of relief and satisfaction, for the scents she was breathing in were familiar, homely, comforting and all round invigorating. She had a headache, but it could have been a lot worse - everything could have been worse if not for the aid of those she had not entirely expected to step to the fore.

They say greatness lies in everyone, that sometimes it takes years to develop, and years more to ever be recognised. Sometimes it takes a great turn of events to uncover what one is truly made of - Mirage believed that these recent events had helped her see what those around her were made of, and it humbled her to see it. There were very few who were fortunate enough to call such close friends, allies, and confidants great individuals, Mirage had suspected there was greatness in all that she chose to surround herself with, but being shown just the true extent of it was.. Well, it made her proud, to be able to call herself their friend, their acquaintance - their Leader.

A dragonsong began, cool and relaxed, happy and playful. It was a day to celebrate, for they were alive, and their herd slowly grew - day by day, member by member. Yes, there was work to be done still, yes, they needed to grow and prosper - but Mirage had faith now more than ever before, seeing her herd survive without her, that they would get there.

The dragonsong not only penetrated the eardrums of those nearby, but a gentle, subtle touch of minds was initiated, between only the one who was their sister, their confidant, the most trusted friend and beloved comrade. Akaith reached out, as she had done many times before, to the bonded companion of Rishima, Kali, as well as Rishima herself, a gentle request for their presence echoing across the ether. A small smile decorated the lips of the shadow mare, as with an arched nape she tilted her gaze to view the dark, hellish blue of the ocean below, before lifting it to seemingly survey the entire horizon.

It was time to make some changes here.


[ For Rishima only. ]

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Rishima Posts: 137
World's Edge Moon Advocate
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE
Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch Charks
#2
RISHIMA
I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky,
And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon.


They are laughing.

Why are they so happy? asks the wind of the sea, and the sea laughs and shrugs beneath a fragile sun, inconsequential motions of mortals upon stone meaning nothing to depths as old as time itself. The wind is left without satisfaction; restlessly it pursues them as they waltz beneath the trees, large black mare and young white gryphon somehow one while quite distinct. Greedy fingers pull at the dusky white of a wispy forelock, ruffles feathers, tug at limbs. They feel the wind, and laugh with it; the wind is emboldened. Why? it whispers in the mare's ears.

Because the world is beautiful, she replies.

The gryphon seems to agree. She is gathering flowers, bright spring blooms, plucking them from stalk and tree and carrying them carefully in ebony talons. When she can hold no more she drops what she has on the thin crescent of the mare's back, and they splay down her spine in a flirtatious array of aromatic petals, awaiting the next step of transformation. Already some are nestled at the base of the starlit tail, trailing downwards into a sea of gold, woven by deft claws and secured with little braids. She has enough to start on her horse's mane now, she thinks, and so settles at last upon the roost of her withers, chattering excitedly as she begins her task.

The mare smiles an indulgent smile and settles in to graze, content to let her companion braid flower and amulet into decadent two-toned locks. To her it is a merry miracle that the gryphon is whole, for not a week before she had watched her soul-mate crumple and fall, life drawn and devoured by the demonic beast she'd sought to quell. She feels pain for the suffering Kali endured; she thinks that the gryphon is too young to be put through such trauma. She feels guilt.

At the same time, she feels accomplished. She rescued her sister, or was on the path to doing so, when others had failed. She had retrieved what was hers, maintaining the bond that surpasses blood and bone and hooked a taut line between the souls of herself and Mirage. In a way, it was not unlike what she shared with Kali; and yet it is entirely different.

Both are beautiful.

Kali purrs against her withers, pleased by the emotion that radiates from the mare's soul. She is not angry; in fact, she tells Rishima, she is rather proud of herself. Isn't Rishima proud too? “Of course I am, little egotist,” laughs the dark mare, and Kali ruffles her feathers in mock offense at the teasing. The wind whispers around them but dares not disturb the hybrid at work, nor interrupt the pair as they dwell on all that has made them what they are. They are content in their solitude, joyous simply to be one with each other.

As one they hear the dragonsong. It echoes a compelling call, tugging heartstrings with ghostly fingers of melodious strains, enticing them to find its source and unravel its cause. They drift along it in idle pursuit, both too relaxed to press their pace, and besides, Kali notes, Vikram is probably with her. Neither of them know quite how they feel about the dragon hybrid, his sudden reappearance from whatever hole he'd wandered off to and his reattachment to Mirage. In the eyes of her sister, the shadow mare deserved better; and although she was grateful to Vikram for his help in defending them from the Sun God's wrath, the measure of her affection for him grows hazy after that point. Unbidden, tension builds beneath inky shoulders and shudders loose, anxious rivets rattling inside their bag of skin. Kali misses the passing stream of doubt; she has launched herself into the air, finally restless with their meandering pace, and from a distance tells the mare that she is very slow and that she ought to hurry up because their friends are waiting.

“Friends?” questions Rishima, confusion imminent in the contours of her thoughts. Kali responds with the flash of an image, a sister and a dragon against a backdrop of sea and stone, and then she is gone to join them, crashing down against endless sky, wings carefully catching her seconds before she could collide too hard against her golden sister. Prrray? she purrs, childlike wonder in avian eyes, hoping the older creature will indulge her whimsy.

Enter Rishima, stage right.

None of Kali's flowers show as bright or as radiantly as the purple bloom nestled against her ear, but all are lovely nonetheless, an unusual bouquet of color to contrast with her monochrome facade. The silver amulet once given to her by the Moon is caught in a plait at the base of her poll; Kali has stolen the other one, and wears it about her hind leg with great pride. She steps with gracious poise and simple elegance as always, dark eyes sharp and slippery as they across Mirage's inky side. She wants to laugh. Instead she smiles. She does not stay away, not today, not now. Mirage is hers, her sister and her best friend, and with firm strides she bursts their bubble of solidarity and reaches out to rest her chiseled head atop the other mare's. Shoulders brush, and the scent of flowers lays heavy between them. Her long tail beats playfully at Mirage's hock, and ivory incisors threaten an ear.

“Miri,” she murmurs, dark tones playing at the tender hairs around the younger mare's ears, an old nickname brought forth to suit the tenderness of the moment, “You're so short.”

She laughs, now, and leaps away, dancing on slender legs to escape the repercussions that are sure to follow her teasing words. She is in no mood for seriousness, the moonbeam; now is a time to delight in the beauty of those she loves, to bask in the glory of the affections she claims her own.

Image Credits

Mirage the DragonHeart Posts: 414
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: Eighteen HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Akaith :: Royal Golden Dragon :: Fire Breath Whit
#3

There is a certain sense of homeliness, and comfort, that comes when one surrounds herself with friends, family, loyal comrades who would stand before you against adversity, defend your honour in your absence, work to retrieve you, return you home, when you were forced to be away. It was a strange, peculiar, warm sensation, as if was drinking a warm, honey-laced tea, which worked by soothing the nerves and providing a warm duvet to wrap around one's soul. The golden hum of Akaith's soul that rested so close by Mirage's own curiously shaded one was a comfort that had been present for more than a lifetime, but the curious presence of her sister's company had been there longer still; since before her parents had even conceived her. The bonds of sisters was unbreakable, and despite the fact that blood did not truly link them, it was a bond forged literally more than a lifetime ago, akin to that of the soul-linking ties created between herself and Akaith. The magnitude of the emotions Mirage experienced was always so powerful, so great, they dwarfed the 'normal' range of feelings others felt.

The DragonHeart was not under any illusions as to her feelings to those who managed to earn her trust. It was inevitable for one who possessed a heart of a dragon to be able to love many, equally, brilliantly. Capable she was, and proudly she did indulge in the deepest of emotional attachments, allowing them to nestle firmly against the strong beating muscle that was her heart, a place that until recently, had only been occupied by those who shared her birth lands. She had been guarded of her emotions her entire life, it was a relief, a true indulgence, an addictive drug for her to be able to confide in others, to finally allow herself to trust them with her deepest and darkest secrets, to share and live and grow with them. Akaith chirruped from above her, enjoying the gentle tumble of at-ease, steady, relaxed emotions that were lolling about within her bonded's inner workings. Her gentle mental embrace also told her of the approach of their sister, the loyal and valiant one who had indeed placed her life on the line in for Mirage. It was with a strange sense of morbidity that the DragonHeart almost wished she could return the favour, prove that she was not just all talk when it came to her love and loyalty to her kin.

She came, the one who was a creature born of moonlight even more so than the little shadow mare herself. It was like an old glove being tugged into place as the dark, silver and gold streaked mare slung her tiara over the small of Mirage's back, a replacement of things that had been left undone for far too long. Always and forevermore, the little shadow welcomed and relished in the presence of her sister, never would she turn away from her, never would she decline the chance of embracing her, talking to her, loving her. It seems her ear is a target for hardened ivory incisors, it bows out of the way, diving beneath the flux of silky tendrils that spouts so readily from the crest of her nape and poll. The mare makes only a subtle move in return, a shifting of her weight so that the resting place of her sister's tiara would rock slightly, but otherwise she leaned into her affectionately. The gryphon is received as family, as she always would be, the difference between the avian-feline and the dragons monumental, yet overlooked with a gentle ease that instilled Akaith as a maternal figure, a guiding force - but Akaith only knew the ways of dragons, not gryphons. It was little wonder that the pale creature so easily knew how to socialise amidst the winged lizards, little wonder that Kali thought of herself as a dragon, though she was not, but just as Mirage had the heart of a dragon, she did not doubt that her sister, and her sister's bonded, held their own version of the same within their souls too.

Words of loving, adoring taunt were spoken, dancing upon the wind with many devious undertones, the affectionate moniker, the reminder of her vertical ineptitude, all caused the little shadow mare to simply snort in response. As the snort vibrated her nostrils, the magic that distorted her appearance shimmered down her bodice, swallowing her, flickering in and out of existence - and thus making her appear only every other second a whole equine. Playfulness, amusement and light dancing steps ensued soon, however, as the little moonbeam pulled herself away swiftly, the little flickering shadow was swift to follow, happy to bump her shoulder and hip against her sister in a way that was both rough but intimate, the way only a sister could do. Akaith twirled in the air with the young gryphon as the horses played below, chortling a song, chittering draconic admonishments to Rishima for her playful insult. The smooth, melodic laughter of the DragonHeart echoed from the shadowy maw, that now hovered near Rishima's own, whole once more, as the magic of her soul ceased to dance over her dark, smooth hide. Pressing her soft, plush muzzle against the firm nape of Rishima, she breathed the scent of familiarity in, the scent that reminded her of family, of their parents, their birth lands everything that had been lost, and yet, everything that still remained.

"Dearest sister, you should know by now, that the best things only come in small packages." The tones were rich with their accent of old, the words smooth and honey-rich with a deep, resonating melody that inscribed amusement, playfulness, loving teasing. Akaith took this opportunity to point out to both of them that Kali must then be this mystical 'best thing', eliciting another warm laugh from Mirage's maw. "My point precisely." She added, golden eyes drifting with open adoration for the pale feline-bird as she flitted across the skies. She sighed then, and hated to change the subject from this delightful interaction, this treasured moment, to something that would surely, eventually, end up with at least a few terse words exchanged. Mirage knew her sister, all too well.

"What do you think of Lace?" She began, seemingly at random, turning her chiselled visage to hold her sister's fathomless pools in her own, an earnest tremor bringing the suddenly serious tones of this talk into sharp clarity. Mirage had to know… Just what, she wasn't entirely sure of yet.
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