| Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 12 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Talbot :: Common Hellhound :: Acid
& Name? :: Caracal :: None
Dingo |
For once, the Weaver had wandered out in the midst of daylight, squinting his golden eyes against the seering rays of the ever present sun. Although it shone forevermore above the Basin, the land was forever gripped by the cold fingers of winter, ignorant to the fact that it was still Tallsun. Orangemoon would soon be upon them, though, and all throughout Helovia the temperatures would begin to cool before finally fading into Frostfall. Thanks to the natural, mountainous walls that surrounded the land of unicorns, though, they would never feel the unforgiving winds of the Steppe even when Frostfall did come knocking that their door.
Crowley had separated himself from the rest of the herd as he went about his routine, busying himself with the mundane task of grazing. The dry shoots of alkali grass left much to be desired but it was enough to keep the belly's of his herdmates full, as well as his own. At his side, Talbot was even trying out the grass, but his lips curled back at the strange taste. Why did his towering bondmate always snack on such a disgusting thing? The pup was used to the metallic taste of fresh meat, whereas this grass was tasteless and unpleasant in his mouth.
Giving a shake of his head, the pup spat it out in a tiny clump and stepped back, looking at the shoots with a resentful glare. With a huff, Talbot turned his gaze up at Crowley, who seemed to be ignoring him more than anything else. The Weaver's mind was somewhere else today, thinking heavily on the recent Plague meeting.
Many had been present, the majority of which he knew either personally or by association. Their leader's words had been a blessing to hear; it sounded as if the Plague would be growing to even greater numbers soon enough, and Crowley wanted to play his part in bringing as many potential members to their organization as possible. He knew not what the Empress was planning, if anything, but he would stand at her side every step of the way.
Lifting his head, Crowley looked out across the expanse of his snowy home as the sun began to peak over the mountainside. With the morning rays hitting against the icy lake, he dared say it was a beautiful day; for now, to Hell with the Threshold today.
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith
|
Black mixes with white. Well at least, that’s what I wanted. My black body can’t seem to melt into the snow, and for some reason I’m a little bit more pessimistic than usual. I’m a bit sore from fighting with the Ice Princess, but otherwise I’m not too hurt. I travelled back to the herd, and the wind is blowing vicious as I walk, freezing my hot blood as my heart rate slows from the battle. I can feel my pain spike as my adrenaline dulls. My head hurts, and I feel a little lightheaded, but I know I just need some food.
I walk over to where the tastiest grass is, and see that there is already someone there. The brindled unicorn Crowley, who holds the position of the Aurora Basin weaver, is there with his new hellhound companion. Not to mention a friend in our secret racist group, the Plague. He must have proven himself well while I was gone, given the right that he can decide who to put in the Plague and I cannot. I huff mentally, getting angry at it all over again. Because I absence, I have to prove myself all over again? Well that’s just fine.
I bend myself over to eat, nabbing some grass before I look at him. His dog is trying to eat grass, and spits it out. I can’t help but stifle a laugh, and I finish what is in my mouth and talk. “It would seem your hellhound is trying to be like us. Funny, isn’t it? So tell me Crowley, how have you been? It seems you’ve been up to a lot since I’ve left, given your two new positions, hm?"
Words
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned
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| Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 12 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Talbot :: Common Hellhound :: Acid
& Name? :: Caracal :: None
Dingo |
At the sound of another's voice, Crowley instantly recognizes it as belonging to a sister in arms. Taking his time, the brindle wrapped his whiskered lips around the last of a shoot and finished it off, before finally lifting his head and turning his golden gaze upon the ebony and ivory mare. She was still a strange sight to behold, the ghost of an old friend that had suddenly resurfaced from times long ago. To Crowley's knowledge, she had disappeared in the Dragon's Throat like dear Aurelius. There had been at least one attempt to gain them both back, but it had not been successful. In the back of his mind, he often wondered why they didn't all charge in and demand them back, but from a political standpoint it would have been a faulty move.
"He's even got the horns like us," the Weaver commented with a bemused grin, to which he earned an indignant look from the stripy form of his young friend. Since his hatching, Talbot had developed quite a personality, one that Crowley only partially hoped would remain. The pup needed to learn that those without horns were no good, worthy of sinking teeth into and ultimately bringing down once and for all. Talbot was still young, however, and Crowley wouldn't fret over it until the hound was a little older.
At the mention of his new positions, both within the Basin as well as in the Plague, Crowley gave a nod of his head and turned to face the mare more directly. "I have been well, given the circumstances. You've missed a lot in your absence, Corporal; what do you think of our new home?" He spoke only, of course, of the Aurora Basin. A home gifted to them by the God of the Spark himself, whom he remembered fondly. The swirled stallion was their patron God, and hopefully, would not let them down as the God of the Moon had so obviously done in the past.
"And you?" He tossed the question back at the mare, "I hope your return has been taken well. You've many new soldiers to handle." For a moment he paused, giving a brief chuckle as he finally stepped closer to the Basin's Corporal. "Do you remember, when there was only a few of us left? You were supposed to lead us on bloody expeditions... And then you were stolen away. Why didn't you kick their asses?"
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith
|
The conversation I had started was growing to a heat debate. I chuckled at the hellhound when Crowley did, looking at the small growing horns in the little pup’s head. He was indeed like one of us, and I wondered if he was going to train him to think like us as well. His questions puzzled me at first, and then he got to the important stuff.
"Do you remember, when there was only a few of us left? You were supposed to lead us on bloody expeditions... And then you were stolen away. Why didn't you kick their asses?"
I look at him, not a glare, but just a stare. I sigh next, not really sure what my first answer should be. But I know I must answer what I can, and I can’t hide it forever. I know that I can trust Crowley, and for some reason, without my knowledge, he has gained my trust. I remember his appearance here when the gang of the Traitor Valentine and Deimos brought him home. He was interesting, she remembered, coming in with brindling marks, and the same color as her own body. He was a natural in the Plague, offering his services immediately. He has grown since I had last seen him. I know that now. I felt something for him. Something I had never felt before.
What is respect? No, no, it couldn’t be that. I felt that for Psyche and for Mauja, for my other brothers and sisters. He was my brother, and I respected him in some aspects, but it was not the same. It wasn’t hatred, for I had too much of that in my heart already, and I knew what that was like a billion times over. Well what was it then? I’ll think about it, but I answer his questions while I think. “I don’t remember much about the Basin, I’ll admit that, but I would say it looks quite comfortable for our herd, and perfect for our group. I see it hasn’t been taken over, so that’s a good sign. My welcome has been warm, of wish I had hoped, and I have taken back my position as Corporal with ease. However, I fear I have made some mistakes regarding my other warrior position. I suppose, according to our Bane, I am too “trusting”. But we need people, so I guess I should watch myself…”
I sigh again, and I look at him. He is handsome. The words appear in my eyes, and I try to speak and words catch in my throat. What did I just think? I’m at a loss, and I force myself to continue, hoping he didn’t notice my hesitance once more. “Yes Weaver, I remember. The Throat…what a hell is was. I…I wasn’t strong enough. There were too damn many of them. And Psyche was there. There was no way in hell I was leaving without her. But, in the end, I don’t know what happened. I ran in the wrong direction I guess, and I got lost. Then I ended up in an even worse place. There was a land full of hornless, and I killed some, but there were too many for me to handle, and they wouldn’t leave me alone. They were nice and kind, and even with me telling them to fuck off, they never did. Though I don’t think anyone really missed me much, did they?”
Words
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned
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HP: 45
