Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world & the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people...
The bedlamite had established himself a mission. Disheveled and dismayed he crept like a rabid and forlorn feline through the oaks that enclosed the Foothills. The foliage thrust at his azure pelt, ravenous for his blood. Vermillion chasms darted around frantically, a side effect of the behemoth becoming ever more paranoid over the preceding months. Murder was convinced this province was out to destroy him, though he would not give it the pleasure…not yet at least. It had taken him days to reach the twin sisters’ queendom, an excursion that would have taken an ordinary denizen of Helovia merely hours from the Deep Forest from whence he came. However it was innocuous to say that Murder was far from ordinary anymore. He had left Ophelia in the forest what seemed like a decade ago, her final query during their meager encounter still occupying his wild ponderings. Where will you go now? He had not answered her, for he did not have an answer and Murder wasn’t one to speak unnecessary words. Murder had taken his leave then, back to his secluded existence, but the answer to her question had come to him a short period later. Nowhere child, for a creature whom has lost himself never truly has a destination.
Murder’s audits reposed back against his crania at this thought. It felt as if he had been in a stupor for the prior half of the earth’s rotation without his stygian cohorts. Whole days would pass and Murder could not recall what he had done for their entirety. He had misplaced his mind, this was for certain, though if he would ever find it again was a genuine enigma. Even if his brethren were returned to him would he be equivalent to his former self? No…most definitely not. Gradually Murder brought his gait to cessation; his unsettling rubicund orbs explored the façade of the mountains all the way to their veiled crests. One thing Murder hadn’t forgotten in this odious world was its hidden beauty and magnificence, of which he was tremendously grateful for.
A breeze pirouetted over Murder’s cerulean frame conveying a minor chill to ascend his vertebrae and gather up his cobalt dreads in its grasp, making them sway along with the zephyr. The sensations of his tendrils brushing against his hide triggered Murder’s muscles to spasm and bring him out of the daze he had fallen into as he gazed at the immense cliffs. Tossing his dome Murder released a grunt before watching a few autumn leaves as they glided from their mother tree to rot in the soil. They reminded him of exiled seraphs cast out of paradise to suffer and parish amongst the inferior organisms. Their fates were set in stone. Murder’s lids closed over red pits for a moment, his auricles erected once more keeping vigilant, as he inhaled the frosty orangemoon air. Murder did not know why he was here but he wasn’t about to sojourn at the Foothill’s perimeter like a timorous colt. He was no craven. Mutely he raised his skull towards the progressively dimming firmament and opened his eyes. Abruptly Murder lifted his anterior pistons from the terrain and, pushing off with his sturdy hind limbs, propelled himself into a velocious gallop within the herd land. Who Murder would happenstance upon and what would become of him he did not know, all Murder discerned was he couldn’t wallow any longer. Not only that but he had overheard whispers that a demi-god had been born of late. The offspring of his nemesis, the Time God’s brat, and she resided here…
{ ooc: Open to anyone. This is Murder's "capture" thread but technically right now he is just trespassing. }
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| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: Seven |
| paddeh |
05-30-2013, 07:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-30-2013, 07:57 PM by Irrydae.)
As hot as fire, cold as ice,
Sweet as sugar and everything nice.
Irrydae had not spoken of her encounter with Evers. Not only because it seemed personal and almost secretive, but because she had no one to tell. No best friend to gossip with. Yes, she had made friends here in the Foothills, but she was close to no one. She felt segregated from The Grey. They were such a tight family and then there was Irrydae. But she didn't mind, bonds like that took time.
Her mind today was not on Evers, but on how she had lost the egg. She was not clever enough and yet again it had slipped through her fingers like when she had first come to Helovia and tried to rescue the egg. She wanted a companion so bad. A companion would fill the void of her social life. She had heard great things about the bond of a companion.
A cold wind ran down Irrydae's spine and she shivered, pulling in her wings and splaying out her feathers to cover more of her body, trying to keep as much body heat as she could. She grits her teeth together as the bone chilling wind blows through her. She snorts as a new scent reaches her nares and she turns fluidly towards the scent. She picks up her pace, muscles bunching under her purple and bay pelt as she launches off the ground, air catching her wings and lifting her up into the air. She glides smoothly, the gentle flap of her wings nearly silent as the wind whistles in her audits, golden orbs watching the ground below her fly by.
In no time, her eyes catch the blue figure of a unicorn stallion who has not waited upon the boarder of her land. A sigh escapes her lips, wings tilted slightly to let her body float to the ground. Her daggers press into the grass, light steps taken as she approaches the stranger. She stops suddenly, still hidden in the trees, upwind of the stallion as he makes his way further into the land. Was this the so-called Murder? The one who had tried to take Ophelia? Weariness grips Irrydae as she clenches her teeth, an idea quickly forming in her mind. She glides toward him, a smile on her purple lips. "... Murder, isn't it?" She says to him almost seductively. "I've heard about you." The words slide from her easily, old habits die hard- correct? Her mother would be so proud. "Interesting to find you here." She lets her wings unfurl and fall at her sides. "That was a bad decision." The words are barely out of her mouth before Irrydae stands tall, angling her wings toward him and pulling back before snapping them forward. The shining clumps of stars and stardust burst from her wings, barreling towards him. The instant it left her, her own energy dampened but she stood balanced, poised and ready to attack again. Northern lights streamed from the stars on the tips of her wings, swirling around her, a back up to her attack.
"You're coming with me, darling." Sarcasm filling her voice as her vocals returned silent.
"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
 Murder wasn’t foolish enough to surmise that he would not be pursued the instant he set foot within the Foothills boundaries. He recognized Ophelia as a very perspicacious individual who would not allow her home to go unfortified. However when he saw the shadow of the avian damsel soar above him Murder had to concede he was quite impressed with their timing. Halting abruptly he knew it was futile to run. She may be the first to notice him trespassing but there were more where she came from and much larger wardens Murder was sure. Murder’s audits swiveled atop his crania as he listened to the thresh of her immense annexes while they severed the sky and the subtle thump as she descended, like a feather, upon the earth. Envy once again set in, as it had so many times before in the presence of pegasi, and Murder sighed with superfluous resentment. It was not xenophobia that he was expressing but in fact the exact opposite. Murder yearned to be akin to them, to have the aptitude of flight. Murder coveted wings. It was an ache he’d felt from the day he confirmed the existence of plumed equines. He felt the Gods had mocked him at birth by making him a unicorn. By giving him companions he would hold so dear with such a drastic difference to him. Murder would ever remain grounded and play the spectator as his beloveds glided through the firmament. The Deities cursed him to an existence of longing.
Though of late they had made Murder’s torment far worse.
His nares inhaled her feminine scent, mixed with a celestial aroma he was not conversant with, as it was congregated by the breeze and was carried to him, though he still had no visual on the vixen. Perchance if he convinced her that he meant no harm to her clan and even that he knew Ophelia, in more than a passing acquaintance sense, she could assist him instead of seize him. Nevertheless Murder had an inkling that was not likely to transpire.
... Murder, isn't it?
Murder’s lobes fell as he rotated his skull to face the harlot when she slid from the obscurities. Dropping his crania and pulling his jaw closer to his esophagus in a defensive stance Murder analyzed the viper with gruesome pools. It was evident she had malevolent objectives and Murder could sense his sinew tensing beneath his azure hide in speculation of the shrew’s ensuing action. I've heard about you. Her lyrics were alluring though they seemed to hold a falseness and Murder was far from captivated by her tone, in fact it set him more on edge. It was becoming ever more apparent that he would not be departing the Foothills anytime soon, and perhaps not even intact. The remainder of her dialog ran together and the final words Murder grasped before Irrydae extricated her magic was ”bad decision”.
Murder couldn’t elucidate or even comprehend what he witnessed or what happened to him. It was like viewing the cosmos detonate before his vermillion pits, it was beautiful and spectacular yet so very terrifying and Murder erected himself on his posterior limbs in a trifling endeavor to evade the blitz. The stardust collided into him with phenomenal potency knocking Murder to the soil with an excruciating crash. An atrocious scream left Murder’s larynx as he plummeted towards the forest floor. Dread plagued every inch of the defeated cerulean behemoth, though Murder was rapidly losing the vigor for even have the capacity to be afraid. His flanks heaved with labored breaths as he scanned his surroundings to the paramount of his abilities, knowing more denizens of the Foothills had to be on their way. If only Ophelia would come then Murder could expound himself and put things right. He only sought his crows, that’s all Murder ever wanted, was that too much to ask? Ophelia assured she would aid him, he never desired to hurt her.
She promised she would help me…
“Ophelia…please find me Ophelia.”
Murder’s vocals were ragged, strenuous and measured. It took all his virility to speak and he lay there hoping Irrydae would have compassion enough in her otherworldly form to do him that minor courtesy. However being an adroit creature Murder predicted nothing more than death.
{ ooc: bump? }
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image credits
| Helovian Ancient |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15.3hh :: Ageless |
| Admin |
06-11-2013, 08:37 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-12-2013, 10:52 AM by Tamme.)
The GOD of the SPARK
On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero
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The God of Time was more than a little irritated that this mortal whelp had tried in vain to "steal" him - as if he could be caught by any earthly means. Hah! Even his own siblings knew that he was barely controllable, but they tolerated him because he was rather benign (all things considered). Today was not a day to sit back and simply smile in mild displeasure at the living, breathing rabble beneath him, especially not with this slight to his god-hood hanging around.
Oddly enough, Ophelia's herd had captured him, and he might as well have an excuse to see his newly born daughter and the mare who carried her - not that he cared one way or the other. However, she did have to grow up to provide a balance; she was not born unto this world by accident.
Traveling through time was as easy as breathing for the elder god, and he simply blinked before opening a large, purple and blue portal into the Foothills. The circle was akin to a bruise on the face of reality - a little injury of the stream that made it hiss in a breath while tension filled the air. And then, the bruise faded into nothingness, leaving only the black and white god standing in the white fields of his brother Earth's land.
Well, he had not entirely considered that brother Earth may not be pleased with this, but no matter. What could he do?
The shorter, stocky god walked until he saw the chance meeting between a star-kissed mare and the bastard called Murder. Sure, he had stolen the creep's crows. No one else got to entire his land with crows. The fact that he was born with them meant nothing to the god - such sentiments were pathetic, a weakness and a blight.
"I think I owe you a smiting for your blasphemy..." he trailed, staring down the red-eyed stallion. While he knew that he could not physically harm the stallion - especially not on his brother's land, the God simply smile. With a loud pop and a burst of wind, two crows appeared, one of the stallion's familiars. No effort was required to take the body of the crow and dispose of it rather violently. A quick twist of the neck and the black body fell to the ground in the snow.
"That is only a sample. Ophelia asked for me to give you your crows back, but you could say that I am disinclined." He stood with a sour expression, not entirely sure if he should kill the entire lot of birds who hovered currently in another dimension.
[[These can be identical copies of the birds or the originals if you want :3]]
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CREDITS: Tamme & Boom
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: Seven |
| paddeh |
As hot as fire, cold as ice,
Sweet as sugar and everything nice.
Time seemed to slow as the stardust left her wings and Murder's expression grew terrified. She looked at him with a pang of guilt before her face returned to a emotionless mask. It collided with him, and she watched it shove him to the ground, embedding and soaking into his body. Her eyes widened as she watched the life drain from his eyes and fear struck her- she didn't want to kill him!
Irrydae barely made out the words that came from shaky lips. 'Ophelia…please find me Ophelia.' Her eyes narrowed. What did he need Ophelia for? He had already tried to steal her once. "Don't worry Murder. We will find Ophelia." Her tone harsh as golden eyes stare into red ones. Her tone was softer this time. "You will not die under my care." As if that was assuring.
A hissing sound reached purple audits and the Storyteller swung her head to glance a purple-blue... openining, in the air before her. Out stepped The God of the Spark. The Time God. Wonder and confusion filled her expression- why was he here? Irrydae kept her mouth shut, golden eyes watching him excitedly. Two crows appeared with a pop, and jus as suddenly they fell dead, into the snow. Puzzlement filled the expression of the star spangled mare, looking over at Murder to see how he felt about it.
'That is only a sample. Ophelia asked for me to give you her crows back, but you could say that I am disinclined.' So the crows were Murders, and he just killed them. Irrydae kept her face calm, wondering why the Time God thought it would be fair to kill one's crows. Had Murder done something to deserve this, or was Spark just playing his own game?
Irrydae's mind wandered to her first meeting with the God of Time, where he had picked her for a quest but had never given her that quest. The Storyteller was tempted to say something about it, but was intimidated by the black and white god who could kill her just as instantly as he did to the crows.
"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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please tag irry in every post! magic & aggression allowed w/o death
| Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7 |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK |
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Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath
Tamme |
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I HAVE BURNED MY TOMORROWS, AND I STAND INSIDE TODAY
At the edge of the future, and my dreams all fade away
Tinek chirped brightly in her mind, recognizing a figure below, and Ophelia furrowed her brows tightly. The distinct figure of Murder from Tinek's eyes incited a certain, protective wrath in her soul, and she snorted a thick cloud of white, ears tilting back angrily. He had tried to kidnap her from her herd while she was still pregnant, and she did not believe that such an act was forgivable. Once, a long time ago, she had promised to forgive Mauja and Deimos for trying to kill her once, but perhaps she had been a better person then. She had not forgotten.
Ophelia picked up a brisk trot, ears tilted back against her skill. Pale and crimson tail swam to and fro in her wake, the entire gait mesmerizing and perfectly balanced like a metronome ticking time. Her two different colored eyes, once filled with anger then turned to confusion. The God of Time stood before the stallion with the lost crows, and she watched with a twinge of apathetic horror as he killed two of the long lost birds.
She swiftly shoved any conflicted feelings for the god who was the father of her only child aside, and she approached the scene from Irrydae's side, looking between the god and the crow-seeker with a harsh expression. Ophelia turned to Murder first, seeking in Irrydae's mind for the manner in which he came. She had captured him, and he had called for her, seeking her as a friend. With a grateful nudge of her muzzle to the starry mare's shoulder, should she allow such a gesture, Ophelia thanked her for the use of her mind.
"You called to me as a friend and yet you would try and take me in a weakened state, why?" Ophelia narrowed her gaze, wanting to see what his purpose was. She was not overly inclined to traipse across his inner most thoughts at the moment, preferring to give him a moment to speak his peace before condemning him either way. Obviously Irrydae had used some fort of power against him as the buck was laying on the ground rather pathetically.
With a bitter sigh of white clouds she moved to where he was and urged him to stand before staring at the God of Time. Ophelia knew better than to yell at him like she had done before, and so the white mare inclined her head deeply though fire tinged with anger still roared in her strange, two colored eyes. "I asked you to give his crows back, not kill them," she murmured. "Do you not see that you drove him to desperation? What power do we have against you and your kind? None except the power of free will to rebel by any means we possess by nature. Foolish, perhaps, but when the only light against oppression is to rile the will of a god, what choice do we have?"
Ophelia's tone was not judgmental but reasoning. "If you give him his crows back, I will do something for you in return. I do not know what you desire, if anything, but I will do as commanded." The pale mare did not cast a single glance toward the darker, shadow of a stallion, and she held the Time God's electric blue gaze with honesty and confidence.
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Image Credit: haiinee @ sxc.hu
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
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Please tag me in every response!
| World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric
Smithers |
06-12-2013, 05:05 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-09-2013, 12:01 PM by Roskuld.)
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The cool part about being a tiny-tot was that big, deep grown-up things flew right over your head, and there was no consequence for it. All this junk about grudges and promises and judgmental stares—to hell with it all, I was still young, and dammit if I never really got the knack for caring about it anyway.
All I wanted was to find my Ma and eat. I was steadily weaning myself, it was true--slowly forcing myself to appreciate the sweetness of clover in my down time—but it would be some time before I severed myself totally from my milk-tooth, and right now my hunger wasn’t particularly satisfied with grass and clover flowers and whatever. So I left Jiji to her own devices and set out questing for the pale form of my Ma, toddling here, trotting there, finally bolting up and down hills and weaving through valleys screaming like a chicken with its head cut off. “MA!” I yelled in an obnoxious sing-song, “MA-AAAH-AAA~!!” Maybe it was slightly inappropriate, but that argument would only be valid for someone who actually cared….and I was not that unlucky bastard.
So I finally caught sight of my Ma, in the midst of all these strangers. Okay, not all of them were strange; there was Miss Dayday, the stary-pelted woman who told stories in a dreamy voice and looked at dudes a lot (childhood perception is a *bitch*, ain’t it?). But then there was this dark stallion that looked worse for wear, and there was a dead crow, and all in all the entire scene would’ve been super scary but I was over that filly-fear crap. I could hack it. Besides, I was done waiting for Ma, even if Grown-Folks were still talking. Dammit, she had already talked with the entire herd; grown-folks should just hurry up and talk faster. With an obstinate snort, I continued to make my way to Ma, determined to get my daily sips, and it was then my eyes slid to the other stranger present and I—
—and—
—and he—
—um—
—I, uh—
…..let me try again.
I’d never really thought about havin’ a Pa before. I was still too young to really “understand” that it was required for two horses with opposite sexy-parts to have a child. I was free from that hee-hee-horny nonsense, and it would be sometime before I really freely considered the identity of my male parent. I didn’t need one, and even if one decided to pop out of the woodwork, what would they mean to me? I knew Ma and Auntie and Big Toto and Bro and Jiji and all the rest of the Grey horses—I knew enough people to look up to that, if I decided to build a tower with them….well…it would be really really high, ‘kay? (Yeah I know that was bad shut up). Even now, this stranger with the black pelt and the swirly white patterns on his coat, with his blue eyes and that knarly beard he was sportin’, he meant nothing. Just some stranger coming to do some Grown-Folk talkin’ with mama.
Some stranger who made my chest jump and buzz with a spark.
I didn’t think about it. It meant nothing. I gave him one last token glance of irritation for makin’ Ma talk all these Grown-Up things—but he still didn’t matter. Whatever. So I turned away from him, walked straight up to Ma, nudged her tit a little to get the milk flowing, and proceeded to drink some of the sweet stuff.
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| Helovian Ancient |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15.3hh :: Ageless |
| Admin |
The GOD of the SPARK
On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero
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[Skipping, as per the rule]
It really was pathetic, in an amusing sort of way, just how often Ophelia seemed to think that her preferences and demands mattered. With an exasperated sigh, he turned to regard her casually as she approached, steadily regarding her before speaking."Perhaps. But you also have the free will to not be so ridiculously moronic, as to try and steal a GOD" His voice rose (although without any emotion, other than satirical amusement), as his dark gaze fell upon Murder. A twisted smirk graced his blunt features, as he turned back to Ophelia. "But yes Ophelia, tell us more about how trying to steal a "friend", then a God, and then getting yourself captured by a fairy, is such a show of rebellion. Boy-" He begun to chuckle, looking at Murder, and shaking his head as if impressed. "-you sure showed me."
With a crackle - his lightning wings materialized with such sudden heat, that the air around him sizzled. As it did so, his horn was ignited with light - a bolt of electricity actually - which leaped from his jagged horn into an empty patch of sky. The smell of charred flesh heralded the arrival of another crow - this one larger than the other two - as it dropped dead onto the ground. The God grimaced as he looked at the bird, as if shocked and disgusted at its sudden appearance. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned icily back to Ophelia, all sarcasm departed from his tone. "...Or not."
The God returned her stare levelly, as she vowed to do something for him in return, should he return the crows. His features darkened, almost suggesting that this had somehow stung him on some emotional level, and yet if it were so, he gave no other indication. His lip twitched and his gaze narrowed - Before he had a chance to reply, an obnoxiously child-like and annoying braying reached his ears. Turning towards the sound, he found himself looking in the face of a young filly, so similar in his own image, that the lineage was undeniable. Mine. For a moment it simply stared at him, and he at it, before it began ungraciously nursing from Ophelia. With a true look of disgust, he looked at Ophelia with an expression of shock, which quickly turned to one of anger - and perhaps even disappointed.
Indicating towards the child so greedily suckling, his lip curled up in a sneer. "Remember how well that turned out last time?" He hissed through his teeth, snorting at the end. "Oh wait. No you don't. Is this you rebelling against me Ophelia? Is this you, sticking it to me?"
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CREDITS: Tamme & Boom
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: Seven |
| paddeh |
As hot as fire, cold as ice,
Sweet as sugar and everything nice.
Murder gave no answer, and Irrydae gave a small huff, rolling her eyes. "Ah, just who you were looking for!" Irrydae said slightly sarcastically, and a her mind grew numb, a weird sensation as Ophelia stopped at her side. It disappeared quickly, and Irry smiled at Ophelia as she nudged her shoulder in thanks, realizing that she had reached inside her mind.
Golden eyes watch as Ophelia turns to Murder and then the Time God, seemingly upset about the dead crows that lay in the snow. '... and then getting yourself captured by a fairy, is such a show of rebellion,' Irrydae's golden orbs turned to Spark, snorting quietly, which could also be taken as a laugh, when she realized he was talking about her. A loud, obnoxious call reached her ears and Irrydae turned her head to see Roskuld barreling over. Tension seemed to grow thick as the foal and her father stared at each other, but then Roskuld went on like nothing happened and the starry mare realized she didn't know that her father stood before her.
'I asked you to give his crows back, not kill them,' Ophelia said, and Irrydae could see the anger flashing before her bicolored eyes. Golden pools looked at the now three dead crows, the smell of freshly cooked flesh still in the air, and Irry exhaled sharply through her nares, the smell was unsettling, though not unfamiliar to her.
A look of shock on the Time God's face quickly turned to anger as he spat words at Ophelia. Irrydae kept her mouth shut, deciding it was best to not say anything unless she was asked of something. Her expression grew emotionless, Murder must be so proud. He caused such a commotion. Her gaze leveled over to him where he still lay, and not a word had left his mouth since he asked for Ophelia. Well, she's here, Murder.
[ ooc ; sorry for the short, crappy post, irrydae didn't really have anything to do. xD ]
"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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please tag irry in every post! magic & aggression allowed w/o death
Despite Irrydae’s reassuring words it was not Ophelia that responded to his derisible pursuit for relief. Not right away…no. It was him.
"I think I owe you a smiting for your blasphemy..."
A lump twisted in Murder’s gut and an odium began to boil his blood that he’d never felt for another creature previously. When the God came into view Murder craved nothing more than to vanquish him. A deed that he justly believed would liberate Helovia and permit the tenants of this callous expanse a superior, less oppressed existence. While Murder did fear the azure and alabaster beast that stood over his effete carcass he had more formidable emotions than trepidation that kept him from trembling in the Time God’s shadow. Only one query rang in Murder’s audits as he gazed back into the deity’s cerulean pits…
Do Gods bleed?
Precipitously a lurid crack occupied Murder’s senses instead, wiping all other contemplations from his mind. He became aware of the fowls instantaneously; his vermillion chasms observed them glide through the air so impeccably and immediately recognized them as two of his companions. Murder’s heart leapt at this realization however the elysium was short lived when, as if in measured frames, he viewed one of the bird’s necks rotate 180 degrees with a nearly inaudible snap that somehow seemed to be the loudest most tragic din Murder had ever perceived. "That is only a sample. Ophelia asked for me to give you your crows back, but you could say that I am disinclined." Murder was incapable of crying out, his body so drained of vigor he could scarcely keep his eyes open yet the adrenaline surging through his veins kept him awake. It was then that she arrived.
"You called to me as a friend and yet you would try and take me in a weakened state, why?" Ophelia’s tone was icy and inimical, something Murder couldn’t hold against her. He had done unforgivable things to the pallid Queen. If she let the Time God kill him for endeavoring to steal her, then imprudently trespassing on her lands, Murder would understand and even venerate her for the verdict. Yet once again Ophelia exhibited her maturity as she approached the crestfallen bastard as he lay sprawled upon the soil like a vulnerable colt. Her warm muzzle touched his flank encouragingly and strangely sent an incentive to move through Murder’s debilitated form. On of his anterior pistons began to paw at the earth as he attended Ophelia’s dialog with the divine fiend silently. There was righteousness in the pearlescent damsel that still astonished the cobalt behemoth as his red orbs watched her with reverence. After all Murder had put her through she was still fighting for him and it made him bilious from humiliation. He did not deserve this.
The Time God began to speak once more in retort to Ophelia’s argument and attempt at negotiations. Of which the Spark evidently found to be quite droll. When the deity began to state Murder’s faults Murder exhaled steadily and let the insults slide off him. He would not let the words of someone he reviled so entirely affect him. He was better than this God. He may not be as influential, as confident and as salient, yet Murder would take being this inferior mortal form with the capacity to empathize, and even love, over being that merciless cretin any day. Suddenly the atmosphere became voltaic and febrile as the Time God’s electric wings sprung from his shoulders and a bolt vaulted from his jagged horn into ostensible oblivion. But of course there was an objective to the God’s actions which became apparent as the stench of charred flesh reached Murder’s nares and he watched as yet another one of his cohorts descended from the firmament hitting the earth with an unsettling crunch.
Agony plagued every inch of Murder’s body. With each unnatural demise of his crows it was as if a piece of him was being flayed. It was the worst kind of torture, one only a demon would sanction in the taciturn depths of hell. Finally Murder established the impetus to stand, though it took every bit of his energy just to ascend from his sorrow. Getting his robust pistons situated under him was only half the battle, the real work came while forcing them to bear his mass once more. Murder wanted to die but he would not give the God the pleasure of seeing him despair. As Murder got to his feet he looked at Ophelia with a loss in his eyes that he knew would be eternal. He wanted to explain everything, as absurd as his logic’s sounded, but Murder knew at this moment he could not properly communicate with the seraph standing before him.
Abruptly the dramatic atmosphere was shattered by the screeches of innocence. Murder revolved his crania to see the juvenile demi-god, in all her childish virtue, saunter to her mother and began to suckle greedily, ignorant to the horrors around her. She was beautiful. Slowly he turned back to the God and seized his gaze with a savagery unusual to Murder. His muscles tensed as Murder coveted to strike the false idol that was so cockily poised in front of them, though he was not foolish enough to try. Now it was not only for the injustices done to him that Murder sought to eradicate the God of Time but for the way in which the lightening stallion chastised a girl who had done nothing but serve him. Ophelia had borne him a truly remarkable child, and in Murder’s opinion when a female gave the gift of life she deserved to be honored for that not castigated. A belief the God noticeably did not share. Murder could not fathom what had angered the God so at the sight of his darling offspring. She was almost a mirror image of the brute; something Murder thought would delight the narcissistic divinity instead of infuriate him. Murder rotated his dome leisurely back to look at Ophelia, despondency in his vibrant optics.
“Your daughter is lovely Ophelia.”
Murder’s words were soft and compassionate; his eyes looked into her twice hued spheres with remorsefulness. She was the true Goddess here. He did not know how to expound what his prospects had been for the attempted stealth of her but he figured he would give it a try, Ophelia merited that at least.
“I’m sorry; I have wronged you in so many ways. I never intended to harm you; I would have kept you safe I promise. My conduct was merely me being selfish, I comprehend this now. You said you would aid me and I took that too literally. I imagined if I stole you and your daughter that the God of the Spark would be obligated to yield my crows out of his adoration for his kin. I see now that I was very very mistaken, you are just as much a victim of him as I am. You did not warrant any of this. I will not ask for your clemency, I have too many times before; I just owed you an explanation no matter how asinine my rationality was.”
Murder fell silent again. His heart beat rapidly in his ribcage as he waited for Ophelia’s reaction. Murder had a sense he would not be getting his crows back today, or ever. He was gradually coming to terms with this awareness, as hard as it was for him to grasp. Murder had made his fair share of mistakes and now he would have to pay for them, as he should. Life is cruel, but Gods are crueler.
{ ooc: Woah...sorry it took so long and is so long o.o }
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image credits
| Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7 |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK |
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Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath
Tamme |
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I HAVE BURNED MY TOMORROWS, AND I STAND INSIDE TODAY
At the edge of the future, and my dreams all fade away
The pale creature watched the god outburst again, lighting up a crow with a bolt of shock from his horn, wings now visible in all of their energy. His words still hung on her mind. In her soul, she felt tired, and the fiery passions she may have had to yell at him were numbed. "I said they were borne of desperation, not that they were in any way wise and not foolish," she replied quietly, the subtle, pretty chimes of her tones singing in contrast to his violence.
Ophelia heard her daughter - his daughter - approached, calling her by name. She smiled at the child warmly and gently nudged her shoulder to remind her that it was impolite to stare, regardless of the fact that the god was her father. When the foal went to drink, she listened to the god more seeing the sneer that covered his lips. If the ice in Ophelia's glare that she returned to him were lethal, the god of the spark would be encased in a prison of snow. The child who was at her flank was his, and he had done this to her. He did not get the luxury of judging this situation.
His words cut her deeply, and she soothed them over with hardened snow. "I have no need to rebel against you," she replied, her voice holding an unnatural calm. "I have no desire to rebel against you. And please, I would rather not speak of the mechanics of our situation around Roskuld." The filly did not deserve to bear the burden of knowing the details, not at such a young age. She deserved some form of normalcy, a life free from knowing that she had not been planned. Perhaps when she was older she would know and understand, but for now, Ophelia intended to shelter her from the truth.
The pale mare sighed, her exhaustion showing on her face. She looked up into the god's face. "I am tired," she whispered. "I do not want to fight with you. All I wanted was to help a friend, to ask you to return something that you took. She looked to Murder, and then back to the god. "I am sorry," she said quietly.
Murder spoke then, and his words struck a chord in her chest. He thought her child was beautiful, a stallion who was not even her father. She struggled against her emotions for a moment before wrestling them down, having to turn her gaze away to do so. Ophelia clenched her jaw and nodded. "I understand," she said quietly to the red-eyed stallion. "Thank you." I tried to save your crows..." she wanted to tell him pleadingly. She wanted to apologize for bringing them to the god's attention.
Ophelia turned to the stallion, nodding her head in the direction of the wilds. "I will not keep you here, captive," she said quietly. "You may go, or stay... it... matters not to me." The pale mare turned to Irrydae, apology in her eyes. "Thank you, for bringing him to me." She bowed her head to the starry mare. "I... you do not have to stay if you do not want to." Ophelia assumed that the God of Time had more to berate her about, and if he did, she would sent Roskuld along with Irry to a safer place for her young, innocent ears.
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Image Credit: haiinee @ sxc.hu
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
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Please tag me in every response!
| World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric
Smithers |
07-09-2013, 12:19 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-09-2013, 12:20 PM by Roskuld.)
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[I just got off absent a couple of days ago, thank you for your patience!]
~.~.~.~
From my position—my face lodged as it was against Ma’s stomach and teat—I wasn’t really able to see the faces and the expressions and the posture of the horses around; all I had to judge with was the tones they spoke with, and boy howdy were there some tones to here. Some sneering ones, apologetic ones, my Ma’s own solemn, crystalline lilt thrown in the mix to add a little chill to it. All of them speaking words I didn’t care to follow, big ones and small ones I could probably understand if I had a mind to, but I didn’t, so. I was hungry and that was my focus, and even if the tension was so thick I could feel it swirling around me, around my stubby legs and stump tail and through the gap in my horn. Even if there was some heavy stuff, all I wanted was milk and I was getting it so there.
That guy snorted at my Ma though, I heard that. And got immediately pissed, and I snorted too, mirroring him, breathing against my Ma’s nip and side, sorry. But I stomped a little and threw all 2 inches of my tail into the air, because how dare you, sir? Do you know who you was talkin to? This is MA, Chief of the Foothills, with all sorts of ass kickers waiting on her beck and call, including me, including me. Because you don’t treat Ma like that, you don’t treat anyone I love like that, so help me. Who’d he think he was? I didn’t turn away from Ma or stop drinkin’, cuz she had taught me about picking fights with grown folks—as in, I don’t do it, so don’t do it. I couldn’t correct this sarcastic son of a bitch and Ma didn’t seem to be in any danger other than a tongue lashing, even if she did sound tired-- so I didn’t.
But then there was a zip-snap! in the air and I smelled something gross, and another dead crow fell from the sky suddenly, a broken mass of feathers and junk, so that I spooked a little and stepped back, away from Ma, my horn thrown high and a disturbed little whinny escaping me. I’m no punk, but damn, I’ve never seen dead crows fall so indiscriminately like that before, like rain drops from a cloud of Hades. Death meant something bad and there was a lot of it here, a lot of it coming from unexpected places. I didn’t like it, not one bit.
I shook my mane a little though, getting over my jumpy fear so that all I had left was normal fear. I went back to Ma’s side, went back to drinkin because I was still hungry, but it was mostly a nervous tick to get my mind away from these strangers. Because it was dangerous here, my Ma was in danger and so was Miss Day Day and I wasn’t leaving them so easily, and there was too much death and I knew it had something to do with these broken, sad, twisted, evil busy bodies and I wanted them gone—
--I wanted them gone—
--I wanted them gone.
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| Helovian Ancient |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15.3hh :: Ageless |
| Admin |
The GOD of the SPARK
On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero
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It really never ended with mortals.
The God listened with a dull and depleting lack of interest, as Murder spewed verbal tears towards Ophelia. Ophelia. Ophelia the Forsaken she was calling herself now; more like Ophelia the fake. In the minds of Murder and those like him, he could easily sense their dissatisfaction, that he was not playing at being Mate of the Year. Jealousy. Misunderstanding; that's all it was. For they didn't know her as he did - Ophelia wouldn't even remember... In the hours before her memories were returned - when she was still unladen by grief and remembering - she had been something, then. Something truly beautiful, and worth coveting. Something with such pull, that she unknowingly drew him from the time streams and into the world again, to marvel at her side. She was an unblemished beacon of true freedom, if only for a short while. The ice in her voice and her eyes had been like Tinek's own brand of fire - icy hot; a burn to his very soul. Now, her reprimands were a bore, and her frosty stares and words did nothing but cause him to sigh wearily. Now, she was nothing. She had lost whatever it was, when she had begged his brother to give her back her memories.
Now as he listened, his vast mind laughing at the words exchanged between Murder and Ophelia, he felt as if he was looking at a shell of what she had been, of what she could be. Even before Ros was born, at least Ophelia had the animation of spirit to yell at him. Now, she merely accepted apologies and gave heartfelt condolences, in crystalline passive-aggressive tones. Did she even wear the amulet he had given her, to call upon him should she need it?
And an even more terrifying thought, did she need him?
Once the mellow-dramatic soap opera moment was over, between Murder and Ophelia, the God cast a cool, uncaring gaze towards the plain stallion, snorting a single laugh. "If you want your crows back, you must do two things. The first, is to find 5 avian companions, and bring me a feather from each. The second-" for a moment his eyes sparked, as if ignited with the same electricity that his body produced, "-is to apologize. To me." Darkly he sneered, as he turned back to face Ophelia, caring very little about whether or not the stallion would accept his terms.
His blue gaze shifted to where Ros was still suckling, before moving back to Ophelia, as if trying to weigh whether or not he would respect her wishes to protect their child from his words. Or was it actually just from him? Shifting his weight easily, he leaned casually as he grappled with the decision. Was it even worth it, to stay and hash things out with Phi? Was it worth his time (ha-ha)? Deciding that, in light of the creature he had once found so compelling, the true mother of his child, he would bear this conversation to its end, if only so that it would be finished once and for all.
"You know where to find me." He said to Murder, without shifting his gaze from Ophelia. With a dull and staticy POP, the stallion, as well as his dead crows, disappeared. For a moment, it appeared as though he would say something to his child, as his enigmatic gaze washed over her. Would he introduce himself? Win her over with a few witty words? Gritting his teeth, he snorted loudly, showering both Irry and Ros in a halo of sparks, which enveloped their forms, displacing them into the heart of the Foothills.
Before Ophelia could object, the God wearily closed his eyes and shook his stout head. "They are fine. All of them. Time grows short...things are...happening..." he advised, rather ambiguously. Nostrils flared, he raised his head slightly, but did not move any closer, although it was impossible to tell if this pleasing or not. In that moment he appeared...different, as uninformative as that adjective is. His appearance was at the same time both more, and less Godlike than ever before. The winds of time blurred behind him, displacing and erasing the scenery which should have been trees and grasses, and replacing it with violet mountains and crystalline blue water. His eyes had lost their immortal spark, and instead looked mortal, and almost kind without their icy sheen of indifference.
"Let's have it then." He said simply, void of emotion or implication.
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CREDITS: Tamme & Boom
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