The days pasted by, in almost a blur. From a distance your great wings fly, green eyes wide as your make your way back to Helovia. Though you weren't born in this country, this is the best place for a colt be, where your mother should be. You know she is dead though, as you watched her kill yourself, and you tried to do the same. In your grief, you didn't want to be alone, and you turned and fell. However, the gods were with you on this day, and all you did was hurt your small chestnut body. You landed on your wing, and now it is too messed up for you to fly properly. It hurts to move it, and you are in pain, though you still feel nothing. I know you haven't changed, and even though your mother just committed suicide, you act as if it was a complete stranger, and you watched her fall for pure entertainment. You can't even get mad at yourself, and you continue to walk, head hanging low as you sulk.
Why would it be that the world tends to hate and turn it's back on you? Maybe you shouldn't have turned your back on it first, but that isn't entirely true, now is it? You had a heart once, had feelings and had loved ones, but they all seemed to fall like toy soldiers before you, made of cheap plastic and soulless. You are alone in your efforts to escape with your life, and though you aren’t bleeding anywhere else, your truly are a bird with a broken wing. A sob escapes your lips, but still you feel emptiness. It plagues you day in and day out, and there is nothing so demanding as your daily dose of depression. What was so important in your past life that gave you meaning, gave you the breath you drink in so rhythmically now like a resuscitator? Maybe it was all an illusion; the illusions made by an abused child that never had anything to live for in the first place, and that only could make up fantasies that could escape a horrid world full of torment. But the question remains: where you the victim, the marionette of the psychopathic puppet master, or were you yourself the evil overlord?
You stop, out of breath, and you feel coldness run down your skin as it starts to rain. It is not gentle rain, and it starts to flood the area, pelting your broken wing like tiny daggers. You move as fast as your small body and go, green eyes flailing about for shelter, and you find a tall tree in a greener area. By now you have traveled a far distance, through one forest and to the next, which is called the Threshold. Though of course you wouldn’t know that, and you wouldn’t care even if you did. You sit, hiding your wing close against the tree, hoping to protect yourself…from what? You hold your breath as something comes close to you. Is it friend or foe, enemy or a worse enemy? You’ll just have to find out.
OCC Note: I would like Foothills or Throat please, both if I could.
"speak"
Lusana............
..thinking of shattered dreamsA spotted figure slipped out from the shadows. Tinted hooves step lightly across the littered forest floor. An elegant creature strolls through, eyes taking in the scene. Lusana walked quietly in the threshold. It was not that long ago that she herself was here, scared and lonely. Two..no three seasons ago perhaps? And look at her now, proud member of the Throat. She loved her home, yet this place holds a special place in her heart. Is that what draws her to this place now? Lusana mused to herself. Perhaps the memory itself, still fresh in her mind, leads her back. She slowly traversed the grounds, reveling in the orange moon scenery.
A small noise coming from some nearby foliage caught her attention. The rain pattered against her smooth pelt as Lusana sidled closer for a better view. Almost immediately she caught sight of the broken wing, so much like her own appendages. A view at a better angle revealed a horse, standing there and shivering, with wings and a... Horn. A hybrid? Lusana stared, a bit confused. But her confusion eventually wore off and she found the courage to speak."Who are you?" She asked softly. are you alright? Does that wing hurt? she stepped slightly closer to the colt. would you like some help?"
She opened her wings slightly, as a welcoming gesture and to create a small space sheltered from the wind. If the horse was as badly hurt as she judged to be, then a break from the weather will be welcoming, she thought.Her eyes were full of passionate pity as she waited for a reply. |
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: Seven |
| paddeh |
As hot as fire, cold as ice,
Sweet as sugar and everything nice.
She has finally made her way back to the Threshold after being turned down, though confidence filled her. Irrydae held her bicolored head high, golden orbs sparkling as usual. Her wings are folded neatly at her sides, steps light and silent as she trots through the thickening trees. Her bicolored tail swishes with contentment as she looks for any possible recruitment.
It starts to rain. It doesn't start out light, but hard. Not as hard as the time in the Thistle Meadow with Andromeda, but it still wasn't fun. Icy daggers ran down her back, splattering on her form. She pins her ears in annoyance, droplets coating her long lashes. Flashbacks of the deadly storm run through her mind and she flinches, ducking behind a nice shelter of fallen trees whos branches had melded together. The rain still squeezed through, though, but it wasn't nearly as bad. She hears a voice and her audits prick forward, head craning as her nares flare. She smells two others and she is off instantly, gliding smoothly through the rain until she reaches two pegasi, a chestnut and a bay appaloosa. The chestnut colt leans against a tree, his wing at an awkward angle. 'would you like some help?' the mare asks and my eyes flicker over to her. She smells of the dusty, humid Throat. I nod to her before leaning down to the boy against the tree.
"Hello there. My name is Irrydae, I am the Storyteller from the Windtossed Foothills." My voice is strong and relaxed, my brow scrunched as I look at his wing. "We should probably get out of this rain, incase it gets worse. I know where a good makeshift shelter is, it's not far." I say gently, raising my head to glance in the direction, I could see the edge of the protruding roots from the fallen trees. I step back, not wanting to crowd his space, a small smile on my lips while I wait for one of them to talk.
"Speak"
As deep as a bite, as dark as the night,
As sweet as a song, as right as a wrong.
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![[Image: wu5k41.png]](http://i60.tinypic.com/wu5k41.png)
please tag irry in every post! magic & aggression allowed w/o death
And there they come, marching to and fro, both with wings like yours. Funny how life turns out sometimes huh? You look scared, but you shouldn't fear. They whisper sweet words to you, those of kindness and friendship, offering you help and shelter. What do you think about that? Hesitant of course, but you decide that you need it, since you have no idea how bad your wing it, and even if it will work again. You want to whisper back, speak and tell them everything, but you hold you tongue. If they ask, you'll tell; it's as simple as that. The Foothills sounds interesting enough, but this purple mare is saying she's a Storyteller. What the hell does that mean? And the other mare offers nothing of a home, but just offers help. You speak in a quiet, disgruntled voice that your vocal cords have become adjusted to over the time you've spend in your own self misery.
"My wing...it's broken. Help would be nice, but shelter is alright too. Do whatever you wish with me."
No emotion as usual, not even your gaze is upon them as you speak. You talk as if you are a soldier putting your head down to your general, as if you are unworthy to put your eye sockets towards those you think are above you. What are you going to do now? Motherless and broken both on the inside and out, your nothing. Words cross your mind, coming from no where: cross walks and crossed hearts, and hope-to-dies.
Crossing roads was never for you, and you always keep your heart tied, but then it broke, dropped on the floor and smashed by a giant foot till you couldn't feel anymore. Numbness collected in your soul. Your definitely a hope-to-die, trying to kill yourself after Mother Dearest did the same. What else have you got the live for Alisier? Will you choose to continue, or will you find your way back to the heart and try again?
OCC: Sorry this is late, I've been so busy :/
"speak"
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: Seven |
| paddeh |
As hot as fire, cold as ice,
Sweet as sugar and everything nice.
There seems to be silence for awhile. No answers, just thoughts. Irrydae does not press for information, she has said her name while the other's have not. Golden orbs watch the two other pegasi, purple and white tail flicking slightly as the rain pelted down on her. She held back a sigh, wanting to get out of the bone chilling rain, but just leaving would be rude. 'My wing...it's broken. Help would be nice, but shelter is alright too. Do whatever you wish with me.' His voice is so emotionless, and he wont meet her gaze. "I can not heal your wing." The star kissed mare says softly, "But I know someone who can. At my home. It is close, a short trek and then he can heal your wing." Apollo. The Earth Medic.
Irrydae should offer more information to the colt, but she pushes the thought down. The priority is to get him healed and if he would accept, a home. "Winter will be upon us soon, and I advise you to find a home before it does. If you will come, I welcome you to my home, child." Her voice is soft, but firm. She looks at him, waiting for him to turn his eyes up at her. She steps forward and reaches her wing out to place softly over his figure, sheltering him if he does not pull away.
"You must make your decision now. I do not want to be out in this storm as it gets worse. Either follow me to my home or go on your own." Her voice is patient, but she does not want to wait any longer, the rain easily has soaked her now and she shivered slightly. Irrydae turns to look into his eyes again, before nodding to the other mare and starting her trek home.
"Speak"
As deep as a bite, as dark as the night,
As sweet as a song, as right as a wrong.
|
please tag irry in every post! magic & aggression allowed w/o death
And whadda you know, you are lucky this time and got someone that's nice in the world. There's a first time for everything right? Now you listen to hear speak, and you slowly let your eyes rise to her level, looking into her own yellow eyes. They are not creepy, but are strange, and yet intruding to you. She speaks of someone that can heal you, but what you wish is help. With what? Everything But you're too pathetic for that. We've talked about this once before, remember? You're too worthless to be saved, and instead you should just kneel on the ground and suffer, for no one would ever grow to respect or even love you again. Got it?
The winter was something you weren't expecting, and now you remember what it was like for Frostfall. Snow and ice were just as bad as ash and fire, and you were afraid of them both. The rain is upon your hide, soaking you through as well, and you shiver hard, making your wing hurt. The wing she drips over you doesn't not make you scared, and you don't move an inch, expect for your eyes sweeping to met her own once more. You decide it would be best to follow this mare, and you nod at the other, offering no other words as you take your leave with the odd colored mare. What would await you in this place known as the Foothills? Who cares really, geez, your so self centered, aren't you? Enough with the thoughts, move along, we don't have all day grandpa.
"speak"
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