Opulent fingers of sunlight spread out across Ascendancy's hide, merciless and relentless against his dark physique. A white forth had effervesced along the shallow furrows of his muscles, adhering to his massive body much like an second skin. The naturally recurring oils inherent in the capillary fibers of his fur absorbed the light and created a lustrous sheen that was amplified by the perspiration which permeated him.
The sunlight melted in his dark, stoic eyes. Intense and oppressing was the infinitely humongous eternal flame that burned brilliantly in the sky, its molten saffron sinking remorselessly into his coat. Tallsun was never kind to those cursed with such an affinity to a dark wraith as he, and the heavy, metallic armor that clung like ivy to the chiseled, masculine panes of his face became easily infested with trapped heat. It was miserable, and inwardly he blasphemed the wretched sun. Frostfall was much more suited to the obsidian virile, and he avidly awaited the time when powdery snow careened slowly down like ash from the sifting, ashen bodies in the sky.
He would think so now, but as soon as the frigid bitterness transcended he would find himself once again longing for the inviting warmth of the sun and its soft kiss as her radiant sunlight poured over the world. With truth, he did admire the sun, but was weary of the vexatious essences derived from the magnitude of its heat that was unlike most summers. It felt hotter than it had in Aretha though he hadn't thought much of it.
His shadow was a stark outline as he moved across the terrain, approaching the scorching stream that slowly retreated from the open field. He could see the path on which the pristine water once traveled: an elongated crater of arid dirt the only remnant or rapture that any such current once existed. He lowered his armored face to the reflective surface once finding a suitably deep pool, and imbued the refreshing fluid, for although it was not profoundly cool it still provided him with a treasured refreshment. Ripples propagated in all directions, the stiff hairs of his maw lightly poking at the surface.
After doing so, he lowered his scarred body to the parched foliage that encompassed him, his forelegs folding beneath him first followed soon by his aft appendages. He laid like this for a short period of him, the rotund cavern of his deep chest rising and falling, accompanied with a hint of exaggeration with each expansion of his lungs. He then roamed to his broad side, compact, powerful appendages sprawled out beneath him. His dark eyes gradually fluttered shut, sleep threatening to creep forth. Gods know he needs the rest.
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| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
The earth lies open like a wound, festering and exposed, helpless against the vile whims of an angry god. Disgusting weather for horses, I could at least take come pleasure in the heat for its incubating effect on the egg I carried against my chest. Now in a firmer pouch lined with the fur of those creatures I had felled, the egg hung securely around my neck, nestled comfortably against the soft of my breast.
I would let no harm come to it.
Grazing, wandering, I drifted like a shadow across the land, following the gentle river that tracked its way south from the forest. Restless impatience battled comfortable calm; I longed for the day when the young gryphon emerged from its fragile prison, and yet I understood that these things took time. How much time, I could not say, and this uncertainty was what kept me anxiously pacing across Helovia, following the water as though it might avail to me some previously hidden knowledge.
It was nearly midday when I crossed the threshold into thistle meadow, and sweat streaks slowly grew across my ebon coat. The heat was nigh unbearable against the black of my skin; ivory threads could not lash the buzzing flies away fast enough. Bitterly, I cast a veiled look to the brilliantly cerulean sky. The Qian had gone to appeal to the Moon and Earth, yet it seemed our cries fell on deaf ears; I could sense no improvement, nor could I see any impending end to this hell-sent tallsun. Ears flicked back, but there is no other protest - there is nothing I can do from here, nothing but contemplate what to do next.
The odd glimmer of light on metal catches my eye, distracting me away from my thoughts of gods and oppression. Eyes narrow, curious, but I cannot see beyond the glare. Cautious steps are taken, dark hooves crushing dried grass with near silence as I flit forward, dancing across the field, a moonbeam in the sun. Something dark nestled beneath the foreign minerals, something that shifts as it breathes, soft and deep. A breeze taunts me with familiar smell; I widen my nostrils, mind working to place a name against the aroma.
Ascendancy. Immediately I relax, and arch a curious brow at the memory of this wounded soldier. How long had it been since I left him in the debatably capable care of the Foothills medic? That he was here surprised and delighted me more than it perhaps ought; the poor sod had been on death's door when I saw him last, leaving me with countless unanswered questions and the calamitous fall from an adrenaline rush. Strides lengthened, nest bouncing gently against the movement of my muscle structure. Three lengths from him, I stopped.
He seemed to be asleep.
A soft exhalation of mirth escapes me, quiet amusement at the sight of the resting brute. He looked so peaceful there, dark form armored and stark against the green loam, peaceful in his refuge from the world's cruelties. Smiling gently, I eyes still fixed on the stallion, I let my nose drop towards the drying foliage. Tail lashes gently against my hocks as I stand vigilant over the healing soldier, mouthfulls of grass chewed thoughtfully between ivory dentiles, curiosity, for now, kept under wraps. Let the stallion speak in peace. The time for questions could come later.
![[Image: RishiRef.jpg]](http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g240/xaiatora/RishiRef.jpg) |
The light crunching of crisp grass between ardent teeth caused the stallion's ears to twitch as the faint dissonance lightly tickled them, luring his dormant mind back into consciousness. He snorted first, eyes fluttering open and focalizing upon the amber grasses surrounding him. His nostrils flexed with the titillating sensation of a bug's feelers before a sudden upsurge of air fleetly attempted to rid it. He hoisted his armored face, small snippets of foliage coming with him, clinging to the tangled heap of his undulating mane.
He eventually rose to his broad, dished hooves, purposefully shaking the disheveled tendrils of his mane so it lay comfortably along the broad curvature of his neck. Cognizance was gradually reeled back into his body, broad face turned to regard the mare grazing beside him. Ears pricked forward with fervor at the familiar face. "Good evening, my lady." A contrivance of surprise lingered within his deep, raspy baritone as his dark eyes regarded her kindly. "How fare thee on this bright tallsun day?" A smile penetrated the perfectly convex corners of his lips; his ivory dentition revealed to her in earnest. His expression remained this way until a pestilent fly resolved to bite the brute's hardened pectus.
A hastened arching motion of his head proceeded as he strove to abolish the invasive creature from his ebony skin. His teeth prevailed across the place it had alighted, but the miniscule insect had cursorily retreated when presented with the threatening motion. "Damn flies." He snorted in displeasure. "I wouldn't be the least bit saddened if they all dropped dead." He quetched, as his lengthy tail swatted at his hocks. The heat made for an ideal ambiance for the large flies, providing yet another reason this year was so hellacious. His attention once again settled upon Rishima, keenly awaiting her feminine voice.
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| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
The snort tickles its way to onyx eardrums; I cast a dark eye on the waking behemoth, continuing to chew thoughtfully as he rose from his bed of frail grass. His rise was slow and precarious, no doubt made all the more difficult by the glinting metal armor that patched his figure; why he did not remove the stuff in this time of heat and peace was far beyond my comprehension. Perhaps they provided him with some sentimental value, or maybe he was just paranoid. Perhaps he stores his power in them, and would in fact die if they were removed. The idea is so fantastical and unusual that I find myself wishing it were true, despite a sneaking suspicion that it was not.
The basket hanging from my throat swayed gently in the wind, threatening to creep down towards the hardened floor; neck arches, crown reaching into the sky and body convulsing as I contract sinewy muscles, forcing it back towards elegant shoulders. Beside the newborn egg, the bronze treasure gifted to me by the God of Earth lay against my chest. It was all far more weight than I was accustomed to, both physically and metaphorically; the weight of responsibility, of a bond. I wondered, again, of Ascendancy's armor. What weight did that represent? What past trauma and clinging nightmares, what blood had it seen aside from his own?
Perhaps, some day, I would find the opportunity to ask.
He makes it to his feet, solid body shuddering with motion. The stallion was quite impressive when not half dead, I noted, grandiose frame encased in wild ebony, taller than I, thicker. He stands at an obtuse angle to me, opposite; in his rising, he has brought his chest up so it rests across from my own, and requires a gentle arc of my neck to catch his gaze. Moonlit mane slinks into deep eyes as I move to face him; annoyed, I snort and shake my head, just as he wishes me a good evening. Caught in the act, I do not respond at once; he continues on, asking how fare thee.
The grandiose elegance of his words catches me by surprise; somehow, I had not anticipated such diction from the wounded soldier. I pause before responding, dark gaze scrutinizing the other with relaxed curiosity. "As well as may be expected, considering the heat." The egg lies between us, suspended in midair, and I feel too aware of its still unfamiliar presence. I shove past the punctured awareness of its presence, instead hastening words forth from my chest, alto voice carrying the slightest hints of shadowy laughter. "And you, sir, were your dreams pleasant?"
Amusement glimmers in the depths of my eyes as he struggles with the invading insects, my own pale strands slashing self-consciously at exposed hocks. "Indeed," I agree; before I can say more, or mention the cold I take refuge in, a flash of light glints off his helm and forces me to squint against its fleeting glare. A slight frown mars my expression; I shift to stand alongside him, gaze drifting across his flank. The young wound is an ugly reminder of how I found the stallion, yet it seems to have healed with surprising speed - "It is good to see you again. You seem to be healing nicely," I remark, concern and pleasure pressing against the calm of my voice. "The Foothills have treated you well, I trust?"
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She was a sight to behold. It was rare that his eyes were graced with one as captivating as she, and he found himself somewhat, flummoxed. It was a restrained emotion however, one he thrust aside swiftly as she spoke. Her voice, he thinks, is soothing, just as it was the day she had found him in deplorable condition in the Threshold, death knocking on his doors, threatening to take him. He didn't bother to respond to her first statement, instead proceeding to the next. Were your dreams pleasant. He flicks his ears forward. "You could say that." He averred with a forced smile.
His gaze settled upon the egg she wore around the supple arc of her neck. "Why do you have that?" He gazed at it curiously, watching as a flash of light manifested upon her features and egressed a grimace to besiege her sculpted facade. He shifted his armor slightly, but she had already sought to escape the invasive beam. He watched mutely as she moved to stand beside him whilst agreeing to his statement about the flies, then continued in her speech.
He looked over at her briefly, his massive form exceeding the feminine stature of her own. Where he stood just shorter than a towering eighteen hands, she was poised at sixteen. There was not a startling contrast, though one was certainly evident as he stood gallantly, armored face hoisted high as was habit. "They have, though I do not desire to remain there." He regarded her kindly, though no smile permeated his ragged lips. He was raised to treat mares with respect, and even so he was also reared to believe they were inferior to he. It was nothing he could simply forget in a matter of days. It would take time to reform the cast, the mold already set and hardened as it was, though it would not be entirely impossible. All he needed was a mare worthy enough to pull him from his stupor - only then could any change be made. Of course, his mentations did not wonder to such prospects. He simply peered out across the expanse, a stoical expression wrought upon his convex features.
What lingered through the cerebral cavern could not be discerned - not without the aid of his raspy voice. "My heart yearns for something more, meaningful; something less," His tongue failed him. The word he was convinced bristled on its tip eluded his breath. Finally, it resurfaced. "stifling. I wish to explore these lands without being bound to a single herd land, and yet, being an outcast does not appeal to me." He felt he was being unreasonable, much like a heady, incessantly indecisive mare. This mare he could tolerate, however, which he found to be odd. Normally he did not prefer the company of the weaker sex, and yet he found solace in hers. Females were meant to comfort soldiers such as him, and she had managed to do so thus far. He laughed, the action muffled. "I guess I'll have to settle for one or the other, eventually." His dark eyes then gazed toward her.
"Where is it you reside, miss?"
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| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
|
Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
07-30-2012, 12:39 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-30-2012, 12:43 AM by Rishima.)
I catch the falsity in his smile, but let it slide away in the wake his question. A I follow his gaze downwards, instinctive, even though I know I can only see the faintest outline of my precious packages. "Which one?" I ask wryly, raising my head back to catch his eye. The ghost of a smile flickers across chiseled features, a suggestion of laughter lingering at the back of my voice. I was fairly certain that his interest lay in the makeshift basket, not the bronze amulet - "The life of its parents ended in grief, but I was given a chance to see that their child would live on." Compassion softens my voice, the love I have come to feel for this foreign creature momentarily evident across my brow. Then it is gone, and he is speaking, and I am calm.
I laugh lightly as he molds his words into polite and inoffensive sentences, searching delicately for suitable language. "As I understand it, one is not forced into a box when pledging to a herd," I observe, lightly biting with dry wit... yet I understood the sentiment, to an extent. While being an outcast left no bitter taste in my mouth, confinement did, and I certainly enjoyed maintaining some ties. I shift my weight, left hind lifting in a relaxed pose, curious to see how he will react to the comment.
He asked where I reside, and I found myself pausing at the question, uncertain myself. While I tended to keep north, of late I had opted to sleep within the warmer climate of the meadows and coast - and yet my sister kept her court, as I called it, bundled within the forest, and I had pledged myself to her. Which of these placed did I reside in? Or did I truly live in any? "At the moment? I reside here. Tomorrow, who knows?" Deep tones speak frankly and without sorrow. There is no regret for my nomadic lifestyle, simply an endless curiosity for the future, the knowledge that so long as something remains that might intrigue me, I shall not want.
I paused then, reflecting on the ties I could boast. While I did not particularly care if Ascendancy thought me an outcast, some lingering sense of diligence to my new extended family prompted me to break my silence. "I do claim ties to a group, the Qian," is added like an afterthought, quiet and factual, "But we are not confined by any one place."
Snowy tresses lashed at charred hocks; I was growing hot, and thirsty. Tired of telling my own tale and bursting with curiosity, I quickly followed my explanation with a question, eager to learn more about this curious specimen. I had quizzed him as we left the Threshold, but in the flurry of rescue few of my questions had been answered, and fewer of the answers heard. "What happened, that caused your wound and flight to Helovia?" Perhaps not so subtle a question, it was nevertheless well meant and honest; I did not desire to exhume the ghosts of the past so much as to understand the nature of the beast before me. He sparked my interest, but also some degree of caution. He presents a curious companion, one I enjoy more than perhaps anticipated, but still know little about, and I was anxious to avoid upsetting the brute while burning with a desire to understand him.
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