the Rift


[OPEN] lost and found

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.

He stumbles through the woodlands blindly, searching for the one that he has lost. His golden-splotched pelt, usually so well-kept, is dusty, though Zarina has not allowed him to give in to filth, and he has agreed thus far to remain clean for her sake. She wouldn't like him dirty, now, would she? The elegant wings that have so often lifted him into the sky are folded along his sides. She doesn't like his wings, they scare her, and he doesn't want her to run from him. He wants - no, he needs to find her alive and well. He has never been driven like this before, never felt this loss. He had fought for the Foothills and lost with the Foothills, all for her. To protect her, to keep her from harm, to gift her with a home that could not be taken from her.

He has failed.

He has searched for her for far too long now. He had almost found her once, in that wretched marsh to the west, but it must have been an illusion, a vision brought on by the persistent ache in his wing. Zarina has pleaded with him to find a healer, though not in so many words. She is not yet capable of even the slightest bit of mind speech and resorts instead to vibrant images which she shoves forcefully into his mind every now and then. She is a jealous creature, and wants his attention, but these petty feelings are hidden beneath a layer of worry, for she knows what he refuses to admit. His right wing is immobilized now - not forever, no, not if he finds a medic - and from the wound there is the stench of infection. She has begged him to take pause in his search, implored him to go to someone, anyone. But he has ignored her.

He stumbles through the brush dejectedly, his head lowered in a position of defeat. The physical misuse that his body has been through is bad enough, but he could handle that - it is losing the one thing in this world that he truly cares for that has driven him mad. Zarina is curled in her customary place at the base of his neck, nestled into the tendrils of his mane that group there. His banner, at least, is free of tangles, for she has found that it comforts him when she runs her paws through the strands. His tail has not fared so well, for it is much more difficult for the pygmy marmoset to reach it all. He hardly notices when he passes into the herdland that he had tried to protect. He follows only the faint scent of Resplendence, though he knows she is long gone.

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

RayoDeSoleil.deviantart.com | Ness8Bit.deviantart.com

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Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

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Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zola :: Black Cat :: None Sparrow
#2
He wasn't sure what drew him out of his self-induced solitude today.

Since the strange events in the Heavenly Fields that he had shared with Midas, Apollo had been plagued with the need to remain alone, meandering through the trees and speaking with them as if they could truly listen. One day, perhaps, he would hear a response again... The overo's thoughts were dark and troubled, almost uncertain and physically weighing, yearning for the light feeling that had developed in his breast after he and the Dragon's Throat General had saved the female jackelope. It faded days ago, that feeling of peace and satisfaction, leaving the spotted Medic with little he could do but try and obtain that sensation again.

Whatever it was left a hole in it's place after its disappearance, and while the memories of that adventure were refreshing and joyful, exciting even, something about it caused a familiar sadness to stir inside of him. Loneliness... Apollo snorted a scoff. Would he always be alone? The monochromatic stallion had long sense given up on trying to win the heart of Phaedra. After all, she could have anyone. Why would she settle with him? He was hardly capable of keeping up with the Intelligence leader's flighty ways.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to deal with his loneliness...

Heaving a deep breath, Apollo did his beast to snap himself out of his melancholy reverie. It was a nice day in the Foothills, after all. The sun was out and a cool breeze danced through the air, tousling the stallion's black mane and toying with the beads in them like a playful kitten. The thought made Apollo smile and chuckle softly to himself before he continued along his way. Each step was muted in the lush grass of the Foothills, the sound of the nearby waterfall nearly drowning them out. Occasionally a hoof woud strike the rocks hidden beneath the green grass, but not once did the Medic stumble. No... Living in the Deep Forest for so long had helped the overo learn balance.

The wind blew again, this time fiercer, and along its invisible wings came the scent of another. It was unfamiliar, this smell, yet somewhere in the back of his mind Apollo recognized it. Lifting his head, soft honeyed eyes surveyed his surroundings. He was standing upon the crest of a hill, one that wasn't too terribly tall, but he could spot immediately the one who's scent had been carried to him. A pegasus, by the look of it, with caramel-hued splotches upon his white base coat... Squinting, Apollo looked the stranger over. Why did he seem so familiar...?

Within the next second, Apollo recognized him. It was... Oh, heavens, what was his name? They had encountered each other only briefly. Both times they had been preoccupied... Once had been in the Deep Forest, when he had stumbled across Phaedra and Tor indulging on thos damned glowing mushrooms. Yes, he had been there, flirting shamelessly with Phaedra. Yet... This pegasus, if Apollo rememered correctly, was also sided with the old Foothills members when the Grey had invaded. Yes, that was right. The realization caused Apollo to bristle. What did he want?

Yet as Apollo's stern gaze watched the spotted pegasus, something seemed noticeably off about the way that he held himself. The Earth Medic could remember the way that he had strut around in the forest, with self-confidence that rivaled Phaedra's, but now it was missing. The overo's stern gaze faded slightly, replaced with genuine concern. Was he injured? While the pegasus could very well be a threat to the Grey, Apollo couldn't simply ignore a life in need. It was his job, after all, as Medic to help those who couldn't help themselves.

"... Greetings, stranger!" Apollo called out at last, lifting his head high as one dark hoof stretched forward, beginning his trek down the hill and slowly approaching the newcomer, "I believe we have met, once upon a time... But I'm afraid that I can't recall your name." His rather jovial greeting, however, was quick to end, as the stallion's keen eyes drew in on the wound upon the fellow paint's wing. It looked ghastly, but Apollo wouldn't know more about it until he was given permission to look it over, if this outcast would even let him.

"... You're hurt, brother," he murmured in concern, his heart welling in sympathy, "Perhaps I could be of assistance...? I'm Apollo; the Earth Medic of these lands."

Credits


I Just Want You To Know Who I Am

Please Tag Apollo in All Posts!

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
#3

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.

His hooves beat an emotionless path through the grasses. He has hardly noticed that the woods have given way to meadows, though Zarina chirps a worried warning. Though she cannot say it in so many words, the images she passes through the bod seem to say, "We're too exposed, they're going to find you, don't you know where you are?!" He shakes his head absently, muttering feverishly under his breath. The sudden movement almost dislodges her from her nest and she chitters angrily, grasping at tendrils of mane. His quiet words seem to shift for a moment - is that an apology? - and then return to their rapid rhythm. Zarina huffs, but cannot stay angry with him, not when he is clearly so distraught.

Instead, she clambers easily along his nape, holds herself in place with her hind legs, and picks up a few strands of mane to stroke softly. A vague sense of relief flows briefly through the bond, and she feels the faintest satisfaction. It is a good thing that she has come to know him so well, though perhaps she wishes it had been under different circumstances. Would it have been different, if they had not been through so much so soon? They will never know.

His appearance had once been a matter of pride, and would be again, if he found her. Then he would again swell with self-confidence, hold his head high, and prance to and fro for everyone to see. He would be different, that much is certain, for she has irrevocably changed him. But he would be happy. For now, though, he is stuck in a rut, treading the same path day in and day out, stopping only because of Zarina's persistance. He had travelled for far too long, making his way throughout the lands of Helovia, avoiding this last because he knew she wouldn't be here, of all places. And yet she had been nowhere else, and so here he is.

If the circumstances were different, he would recognize the steed that calls out to him. He would notice him long before he arrived at the deposed prince's side, would place him in his memory. Gods, it seemed so long ago that he had frolicked carefree in the forest, flirting outrageously with that gorgeous pegasus. She had been beautiful, and she had known how to play the game, and she had challenged him, an intoxicating combination for the steed to behold. But if he sees her now, he will not give her more than a passing glance, for she cannot bear a candle next to her.

The voice, then, is what catches his attention. His anxious mutterings halt abruptly as he looks up, barely bothering to lift his head. Recognition briefly colors his violet orbs, but it is replaced quickly with that ever-present anxiety. Zarina has scurried to his poll in order to view the stranger; she feels the flash of recognition, but without emotion, she cannot tell if he is friend or foe. Worry stabs through her again and she chatters anxiously. He seems friendly, the way he talks, although perhaps a bit wary, though she doesn't blame him, not with the way her bonded is acting. When he notices the wing and expresses his concern, she sighs with relief. Perhaps now her bonded will stop acting like an idiot.

Of course, it couldn't possibly be that easy, and she listens with dismay as her bonded raises his head to look this 'Apollo' in the eyes. "No," he says simply. He is not disrespectful, nor does his tone give any indication of contempt. He would stop there, but Zarina's anger flowing through the bond forces a few more words out. "I can't." Then, worry and anxiety flood his features. He leans forward earnestly. "Where is she, do you know?" he asks, his voice thick with pain and concern. "Where is she?" His hooves shuffle aimlessly in the dirt, as though searching for a direction and finding none. "Where is Resplendence?"

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

RayoDeSoleil.deviantart.com | Ness8Bit.deviantart.com

Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!

Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zola :: Black Cat :: None Sparrow
#4
To say that he was taken aback by the blatant deny for help would be an understatement. Honestly, the overo stallion had been expecting some sort of agreement, so when the dull chorused 'no' left the Pegasi's lips, Apollo was left rather flabbergasted. The black steed's head tilted slightly, horn pointed askew towards the heavens, and he eyed the stranger. Perhaps what was truly ailing him was far deeper than his wounds...

Apollo's eyes drifted then when a flash of movement caught his eye, honey-brown orbs spotting the small creature that clambered up the winged-steed's crest to rest upon the top of his head. What a strange creature she was, and instinctfully Apollo stretched his muzzle out to take in her scent. Why, he had never seen anything quite like her. He refrained from getting too close, however, for the last thing he wanted to do was be mistaken as a threat.

"Where is she?" Came the sudden accusations, which only further added the fuel to the Earth Medic's confusion. Who? "Where is Resplendence?"

Resplendence...? The name registered nothing in Apollo's memory, and for yet another moment it was all he could do to stare, scrutinizing this not-so-stranger before speaking. When he spoke, his words were careful and gentle, for the last thing that the medic wanted to do was upset this wandering Pegasus even further.

"I'm sorry," Apollo began regretfully, his lips twitching downwards in an apologetic frown, "I don't know who this 'Resplendence' you speak of is, nor where you can find her... But please, if you intend to search for your friend, you shouldn't do so in your state. Let me help you, then you can continue in your venture. Please?" Whether or not this stallion would accept his aid, Apollo didn't know, but he just had to try. Then, however, an idea came to the Earth Medic and his frown turned into a somewhat timid, but genuine, smile.

"Perhaps... We could strike a deal? If you let me heal your injuries, I will help you find this Resplendence. Would that be alright...?"

Credits


I Just Want You To Know Who I Am

Please Tag Apollo in All Posts!

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
#5

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.

Somehow he knows before the painted steed responds what his answer will be. If the deposed prince himself could not find her in his frantic travels, how would this brute have been able to find her in the confines of the one place that she had surely fled? Even now as he breathes in the bland scent of grass and dust, there is no trace of her. This was her home, he wants to tell Apollo. It was hers, and you took it from her. But he doesn't. Instead, he sways ever-so-slightly in the gentle breeze without even realizing that he moves, humming softly under his breath. It is a song from his homeland, though now he can scarcely recall the words.

Zarina cooes quietly in his ear, pulling gently on a strand of forelock. The insistent pressure on his poll catches his attention, and he flicks an ear back in annoyance, resisting the urge to shake his head. A small part of him recognizes that she is trying to help him, in her own way, but the vast majority is too far taken by the madness of loss and fever to see it. She knows that the minority is there, though, and she does not take offense when his mind-voice snarls a rather grumpy expletive. She remains where she is and he settles, though it is a slow thing: an ear pokes forward, and then another to one side in a show of relaxation, or at least the closest he can get to it at the moment. His body, though, is still tense, particularly through the wings and shoulders. Perhaps if he were in his right mind, he would wonder if he could even move the accursed limbs anymore, they were so stiff, but for now, he dares not relax them and risk scaring her.

Apollo's voice seems to hold his attention for the briefest of moments before the last of his hope is extinguished. He is already shaking his head gently, aware enough of Zarina's presence to at least avoid losing her. "I must find her," he insists. "If she is not here, she is lost. If she is lost, she is afraid. If she is afraid, she needs me. I protect her, you know." He reflects on this last statement. A sad look comes over his face, his orbs filled with a new kind of pain. "I could not protect her from this," he admits, so quietly that he is almost inaudible. His entire being seems to droop, and it takes years of practice to keep tears from squeezing from his violet eyes. A prince must always be in control of his emotions, he had been taught, and although he is not particularly in control, he does know enough not to cry.

The deal that the paint offers, though, is a difficult one to resist. Would it not be better to search with six eyes rather then the four that he and Zarina share? Would it not be better to call with more voices than one? He frowns, considering. Will it scare her, to hear an unfamiliar voice calling her name? Probably. But if he only gains a pair of eyes and ears and nostrils, won't that be worth it? Apollo need not lend a voice, only a helping hoof... Zarina chitters near his ear, her light, feminine vocals low. He cannot understand her speech, but through the bond he feels her urge him towards acceptance.

But then he sees Resplendence in his mind's eye, and his resolve shatters.

"I have to find her," he says desperately, the manic gleam returning to his almost-sane gaze. "I don't have time to wait. If she isn't here, she isn't here. Thank you for your offer, but I really must go. I can go, can't I?" He takes a step back anyway, preparing to flee. He cannot afford to be captured here, to be held against his will. "Perhaps when I find her, we could return here for your help?" An unsure smile that does not touch his eyes leaps into place on his maw as instinct takes over, offering the courtier's manners to the steed.

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

RayoDeSoleil.deviantart.com | Ness8Bit.deviantart.com

Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!


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