the Rift


[OPEN] you're something beautiful, a contradiction
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#1
það var farið að skyggja og fuglarnir þagnaðir He was still there, a wraith above the world, as cold and untouchable as the fading stars. Frosted hooves held his weight at the edge of the world, mired by the brink of a too-long fall, and his blue eyes stared out into the paling of a new day. Breath rose like white smoke towards the slowly lightening the sky, the west still inky and dark while the east shimmered with the lightness just before color returned — before pastel peach and pale yellow would claim it, heralds of the bright disc of the sun. He'd seen a thousand winter sunrises or more, felt the cold clutch as the air was the day just at dawn, yet there he stood, dangerously close to a fatal fall, black nose stretching out as if to touch it, that hazy streak of pale winter blue.

Like some fool, reaching for what he couldn't have.

In all honesty, he didn't know why he was there. It had seemed natural to climb the closest neutral territory after Ophelia bursting into fire, to see if she was still somewhere within the foothills, but he'd not caught any glimpse of her. Not that he would from up here anyway, with the blanket of clouds lying just beneath his feet, obscuring what went on below. And yet he asked himself, why hadn't he burst into the middle of their homeland, calling out for her? Showing how much he cared? How much he worried? The answer was simply and he hated it, hated both its faces; the one that whispered you're someone else, don't give the game away and the one that said, you're heartless, forget her, it's better if she died. He hated the answers as much as he hated what he had become, and somehow, that hate made him accept it, just as he kept hating himself for accepting it and feeling guilt at doing nothing — he sighed, a heavy, burdened sound, watching his breath steam towards the sky. If only getting rid of his problems would be as easy...

He gave his head a shake, recoiled from the edge, disturbing the inch-deep dusting of snow. The prints leading up to his perch had since long been erased by the night's breeze, testament to his too-long vigil of stupidity; now he left tracks as he backed off a few yards, feeling the toll of a cold, still night upon the bruising of his thigh. At least he'd done the red-nosed a favor, and he gritted his teeth, knowing the pain would fade in a few more days.. once he healed up properly.

When he stopped backing, his eyes went to the horizon again. Just the palest touch of orange and pink was visible, and he settled in at the safer distance to wait — to waste another day in his life.

[ for @[Mesec] <3 ]
þegar úlfarnir opnaði augu hans í myrkrinu.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Mesec the Nightwind Posts: 476
World's Edge Glazier atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 16.3hh :: 7 years old HP: 76 | Buff: NOVICE
Lucius :: Royal Zephyr :: Roc & Lyra :: Common Kitsune :: Dreams Sarah
#2

  mesec</style>
      boy of the night fell from the stars</style>


So close was it to my home that I often found myself wandering to to the peak of these fields, grateful that such a place was so near the Foothills. On the most clear of nights I would come here, content to get comfortable and gaze quietly at the sky. Even if fate had placed me differently and I had not come from the Moon herself, I was certain that I would have found the very same beauty in the night time sky as I did now. Only for me, it was different; I was a part of it, after all, as the son of the night.

Any time I found myself up here without the company of another, my thoughts were nearly as many as the stars above. Mother was still one of the main subjects at the forefront of my mind, coupled with the usual questions I had regarding her. Did she truly love me? When I had met her last in the Veins, she had been so kind as to grant me a quest, yet she she'd seemed uncaring of anything other than the details of the magic I sought, She seemed proud that I had obliged for the ability to grow poisons of my own creation, and had reminded me that we were one.

'We are the Dark, and the Night and the Winds, Mesec; you and I. Never forget that.'

Soon after, I had managed to push the thoughts of my true Mother out of my head and instead to Ophelia. The thought of the pale maiden lit a smile across my face; I loved her dearly, and though I was young and far from grown into my body, I was ready to give her all that I could and grant everything that she asked of me. Even if they weren't related to me by blood, I had a family now, complete with a brother and sister who loved me(although sometimes I wondered about Roskuld), and I couldn't be happier.

As night progressed, I had finally dozed off, mentally exhausted. But I awoke as the stars began to fade, taken over by the light of the sun. It's warmth would do little good for the inhabitants of Helovia, for it was rare that its rays were capable of piercing the frigid cold and warming the backs of anyone. Shifting where I stood, I outstretched my neck and shook my body free of rigidy, prepared to turn around and make my way back home. But just as I lifted a foot to begin my journey, a sound caught in my ears and forced me to pause. It was a heavy noise, one that bothered me beyond comprehension, and turning my head, my eyes sought the one guilty of the sigh.

In the distance stood a achromic figure, who I might have mistaken for dear Ophelia if not for the lack of crimson tresses. Turning myself, I hesitantly began to approach, curious as to who this was and why they sounded so troubled. But with each step closer I carried myself, I began to take notice of the dark, obscure spots that speckled the towering beast of snow, who very suddenly I recognized as Mauja. My breath nearly hitched in my throat as I gazed upon him, but my mind quickly began to work, reminded me that the Frostheart had never shown me anything but a kind eye. I was still nervous to approach, however, but if there was anyone who knew not to judge beforehand, it was me.

"... Why do you sigh, Sir?" Came my voice, shockingly confident in its tone and surprising even myself. As I came to a halt, I was prepared for any movement that came too suddenly from the Frostheart, knowing that I could simply vanish in the darkness I had been borne of before he could bring harm to me.

"You are Mauja... The Frostheart. Right?"



Credits
please tag Mesec in replies
non-life threatening force is allowed at all times
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#3
það var farið að skyggja og fuglarnir þagnaðir He had thought that he was alone, the only foolish soul shivering the night away under cold stars and waiting breathlessly for the even colder dawn. He had thought that he was alone, but he had been wrong. Dark movement at the corner of his eye had his head turning, a rather soft motion, followed by the silken shadow of his mane – and his eyes found something surprising. Larger than last he'd seen him, but still a leggy youth, black forelock flopping over his face. d'Artagnan's boy, still hale and whole, was timidly picking his way over frozen grass and wilted flowers, as if shy of the older stallion. Mauja resisted the urge to arch his 'brows, wondering instead what had happened to him, to drive him away.. to make him approach so hesitantly, as if Mauja was a rabid beast about to take a swipe at him. Was it something he had done, though? Had he ever treated the boy as a lesser being? The slightest frown creased his face, a wrinkling at the corners of his eye. He thought he had always been kind to the boy, at least never hostile, but with both wings and a horn.. well, he wasn't so sure the rest of the Basin had been kind. Realizing Mesec had been gone had been somewhat of a gradual thing, as he'd never been too bold in their mountain home, but one day he'd simply realized he was too scarce for it to make sense.

And as with everything, he'd not gone looking. He'd never had the time to go looking. Always something to do, always some hare-brained quest, and always the wash of guilt in the aftermath. Some part of him had to operate based on the notion that those who left weren't coming back, and chasing down every soul who departed the Basin never to return would consume too much time better spent on protecting those who stayed – but Mesec was the child of the moon, damnit. In what age and time would he leave Helovia? Mauja should've gone to find him, should've seen what was up, not just let him go. He was obviously still alive, still well, bony like all young creatures but covered in a layer of healthy flesh and thin, gleaming fur. The caution was the only thing indicating not all might be well, but who was Mauja to blame him, really?

Hell. He shouldn't blame only himself for losing the boy – d'Artagnan was as much to blame, but he knew how the Doctor both loved and hated his first son. And Mauja couldn't blame him, either. He could only blame himself. He was (had been?) the Lord of the Basin. The herd was his responsibility, even if he thought fathers should care for their children.

Even ones that looked like Mesec.

Mesec's voice was at odds with his timid approach, and for a moment Mauja simply looked at him, a slight dip of his head his only answer to the question of his identity. Mauja, the Frostheart. What else did Helovia call him? That title he had taken and made his, but did they whisper of him, weave stories to frighten children and secure the next generation of anti-racists? Or did they simply treat him as a failed Outcast? He felt like both, when he thought of what he should be doing – when he thought of Prometheus' scathing words. "Do you ever feel like a weight as heavy as the world rests on your shoulders, Mesec?" he asked quietly, not knowing what else to say – answer a question with a question, because he didn't know why he sighed, other than that everything seemed hopeless and stupid, and he the most hopeless and stupid of all.
þegar úlfarnir opnaði augu hans í myrkrinu.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Mesec the Nightwind Posts: 476
World's Edge Glazier atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 16.3hh :: 7 years old HP: 76 | Buff: NOVICE
Lucius :: Royal Zephyr :: Roc & Lyra :: Common Kitsune :: Dreams Sarah
#4

  mesec</style>
      boy of the night fell from the stars</style>


When the other stallion's eyes turned upon me, I felt momentarily frozen in place, as if ice had formed at my feet and stuck me in place. But I carried on without skipping a beat, instead watching the speckled King with a wariness I had developed towards most bearing a horn on their brows. No, Mauja himself had never shown an ounce of malevolence towards me; in fact, I had rathered enjoyed his odd display during that Basin meeting that seemed like so long ago... Yet I couldn't bring myself to be completely comfortable in his presence. He was the Lord of the Basin, after all; of all the entities that could have stepped forward to stop the harm and hate brought upon me, it could have and should have been him.

A flash of anger, a stark contrast to my approach, clouded my mind as I stood before him. For a moment, I wanted to yell at him, cry out and beg to know why he had never done a single thing to try and stop the terror I lived in every single day. It wasn't fair, I decided, that I had been tormented in my very own home. I'd never caused harm to anyone, never even spoken in a nasty tone during my time there. If the wings upon my back were what fueled their hatred, then why had I never seen them scurrying after Irma, trying desperately to rip her wings off?

I shook my head at the sudden rush of thoughts, and inhaling deeply, I tried my best to keep calm. The rage I felt had been unexpected to say the least, and I did not like it. Perhaps I deserved the answers I sought, or maybe I didn't. Did I even want to know? But try as I might, it was growing much too difficult to keep these feelings from bubbling out to the surface. Lifting my eyes to the icy blue of Mauja's, I listened as he finally spoke, but it wasn't in answer to my question. The Frostheart's inquiry only flared my rage once more; if he only knew.

It had to be painfully obvious how unsettled I was becoming, but maybe I was actually doing well at hiding it? Right now, I did not know, and I did not care. "... Every day," I managed to answer in an even voice, but was unable to keep the twinge of anger from it. Flickering my gaze towards the sky, I exhaled a heavy breath, hoping that the simple beauty of the chilly morning would do something to quell my anger. "I am the child of a God; yet I am more lowly than a slave." To some extent, that wasn't true, but it had felt like it many times before. "Sometimes I find myself wondering, why did Mother have me in the first place? She certainly didn't do it because she loves children, and the same goes for my father. Surely there's a reason for my conception... But I don't know what it is."

Growing quiet, I allowed my gaze to fall back onto the speckled coat of Mauja to gauge his reaction. My voice had been bitter, but now that I had spoken, I already felt the weight in which he asked of lightening. Would Mauja chastise me for my choice of words? Understand them? Or just stare at me and ask another question..? Releasing a steady breath, I decided to beat him to the punch.

"What about you?" I asked, my tone taking on a more curious air about it, "It doesn't take a genius to see that you're troubled, Mauja."



Credits
please tag Mesec in replies
non-life threatening force is allowed at all times
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#5
það var farið að skyggja og fuglarnir þagnaðir What had the child become, tossed into the darkness and disgrace of his bloodlines? Mauja's world grew still, his eyes somehow more focused, yet he did not quite stare. There was still something soft about his gaze, and in his chest, he felt his heart slowly melt and leak blood again. What had Mauja done to him, through that simple neglect? Here he stood, a blend, a contradiction, a young stallion promising to grow into something just as elegant and deadly as the Moon, with all her star-spun beauty – yet here he stood, leggy and skinny still, somewhat disproportionate, his long black locks a youthful tangle around his refined head. And for all the youth and budding grace, he did not seem entirely at ease, and not just because he was a colt. It was almost as if Mauja's open, non-provoking question had the opposite effect. He made no move to speak, did not even narrow his eyes, simply remained silent and steadfast even as Mesec bristled for a moment.

It was true, that he had spoken the question aloud mostly for his own benefit, to explain that it was not a single, simple reason for why he sighed, but as the colt's tight, controlled voice slipped into the air, he realized that it had also been an honest question. As if simply letting go of something, exhaling, he let his own worries drop and flicked his black-rimmed ears forward, listening to every word tumbling out of Mesec's mouth, trying to understand every nuance of his voice.

Mauja didn't know him well enough to read all the subtle signs.

"I am the child of a God; yet I am more lowly than a slave." Even though Mesec looked aside, Mauja refused to; this was, after all, his failure laid bare, and he would not flinch from it. How dense had he been, if he'd thought Mesec could survive, unharmed and confident in himself, in the Basin? Why hadn't he done anything to either take him somewhere safer, or make sure the herd steered clear of him? Had he thought his goddess' blood would keep him safe, or that d'Artagnan somehow would? Flicking back through the memories, he couldn't even find a reason, a justification, no real thought given to it at all – it had just turned out that way, and he was paying for it now. The bitterness almost made him smile, but he kept it within, feeling as if they were out on thin ice. He didn't want to hurt Mesec more than he already had.

Mesec fell silent, and just as Mauja was about to speak, having collected his thoughts and memories of when d'Artagnan had mentioned his first son, he spoke up again. For a moment, the pale stallion regarded him in silence, not giving away that he'd even heard him; then, he flicked his tail and turned his eyes to the rosy horizon. Did he wear his heart on his sleeve these days? Everyone knew he was troubled, and it wasn't a good thing. I really should lock myself up, even when I think no one is watching. And what was he going to say? Oh, you know, I just killed someone by accident and then watched the Sun God throw someone I care about into a fire, and I don't know if she's still alive. Perhaps not the best thing to say.. but at the same time, how could he not be honest? Quietly he let his gaze slip back to Mesec, his mind replaying the curiosity in his voice – somehow, it felt like a chance to make amends, but to admit to murder?

No way. Someone would piece it together, and the Edge would know, and he couldn't bring that down on his herd. It was on his head, alone.

"Everyone says that lately," he admitted quietly, surprised at the slight tint of bitterness seeping through. I really should get a grip on myself. Stop moping. "I find myself in a position that is both dangerous and hard to maintain." A small ghost of his smile curved his lips, something almost self-mocking in his eyes. He couldn't tell Mesec without risking it all, and gave a slight shrug, swinging his gaze out to the cold, lightening horizon instead. "It'll pass. It'll pass, like everything does," he said quietly to the pale dawn, knowing it to be true, about everything: sooner or later they would all die, and then the wheels of his mind would – finally – stop turning.
þegar úlfarnir opnaði augu hans í myrkrinu.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Mesec the Nightwind Posts: 476
World's Edge Glazier atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 16.3hh :: 7 years old HP: 76 | Buff: NOVICE
Lucius :: Royal Zephyr :: Roc & Lyra :: Common Kitsune :: Dreams Sarah
#6

  mesec</style>
      boy of the night fell from the stars</style>


Much to my surprise, Mauja remained silent at my words. His expression was unwavering, and where I expected him to narrow his eyes, there was nothing. Maybe somewhere, deep down in that ice cold heart of his, there was a sliver of guilt taking over. I might have felt satisfied at drawing such a reaction from the speckled Lord, to know that he actually felt bad for doing absolutely nothing for me...

... But that was not my nature.

Never had I made the attempt to try and get to know the Lord of the Basin, despite his rather long absence some time ago. It wasn't my place to blame him entirely on what had happened, though if not for him, who would be to blame? Mother, Father? Psyche? Myself, even? Perhaps it was wrong of me to try and blame anyone for the things that had happened, but I felt it my right to know just why I had been turned away for more reasons than one. It wasn't my fault that my Mother had taken the World's Edge from them, nor was it my fault that I had been birthed with attributes of all equid species. I had tried on many occasions to show the herd that I wasn't so terrible, but had been turned away more often than not. Even my own sister had confided in me just how badly she wanted to rip my wings off.

When Mauja finally spoke up, I was admittedly shocked to hear a stinging bitterness on his tongue, but decided not to comment on it. The Frostheart was an enigma indeed, for not a second later, his tone seemed to calm and the smallest of smile curved the corners of his mouth. I took a moment to think over the words he had just spoken; 'I find myself in a position that is both dangerous and hard to maintain.' A look of perplexion crossed my own face, and lifting my gaze to meet the blue eyes of the Lord, even if he was no longer looking right at me, I voiced myself.

"If it's so difficult," I began, pausing a moment to see if he would return his attention back on me. By now, my voice had calmed considerably, and I hope he wouldn't taken my words in the wrong way. Moments ago, I might not have sounded it, but I wanted to help him even if he could not help me. "Then why do you not stop? Something is eating you up, Mauja; is it leadership? My accusations might have been bold, but I simply wanted to know. Was it his title as Lord of the Basin that was souring him? A gentle sigh left my lips.

"And do not tell me it will pass - it isn't always that easy."


Credits
please tag Mesec in replies
non-life threatening force is allowed at all times
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#7
það var farið að skyggja og fuglarnir þagnaðir Someone, a long time ago, had told him that lies and secrecy will be the downfall of any great leader or nation. And in that moment, he understood part of it: not because lies and guerrilla wars were dishonest (if they even were that), but because the things you were not allowed to tell anyone wanted to leap out of your mouth so bad, as if keeping them inside would make your heart explode. The words were choking up his lungs, numbing his tongue, and he kept swallowing them over and over. Was this the price he was paying for trying to come back to life? That his inherent honesty would turn all of his plans to ash? He remained silent for a long time after Mesec had spoken, still staring at the jagged horizon, eyes guarded; Mauja was a talented liar, or at least, he had been, until he had learned in the time streams what untruth could do to you. But being talented at something didn't mean you enjoyed doing it. He would rather sweep Helovia off its feet with an army, brute force and the splatter of blood, but Helovia was too vast a foe. There were times for frontline crashes, and times for subtle tricks, and this was not the time for the former.

So it was either subtle tricks, or sit and wait for better times that would never come.

"Then why do you not stop?" Mesec had asked him, and Mauja wondered if that was how simple the world could be. To him, it was a horribly naive opinion, but then again, they were worlds apart; Mauja was old and bred from a different sort, different blood in his veins. Sometimes, you had to do difficult things, and simply stopping was not an option. Maybe his tired heart wanted to, but he wouldn't allow himself to. His comfort was nothing in the long run.

"Nothing is ever easy, is it, Mesec?" he murmured quietly after what seemed an eternity of silence. Slowly, the frost-wraith's neck bent and his eyes returned to the moon-white ones of the god-child. Once, his own eyes had looked like that at night. "It's a fool's hope, that things will pass, or simply solve themselves, and I am a fool." A heartbeat's silence, surprise at the genuine desire to be able to tell someone, but the only one he could confide in was miles away in the cold of the mountains. No matter how much he wanted to lift the burden from his heart, he simply couldn't let Mesec know. "I wish I could tell you, but I'm afraid I can't. Please, do not ask about it." And again, his pale eyes left Mesec's young face and found the horizon, narrowing as the first rays of sunlight arced across the peaks and stung his eyes. His path, for now, was a lonely one, and one he must navigate alone. And his only hope was that his plans would come to fruition before the end, or he would die a man who had wasted all his breaths on a pointless task and given up his chances at the things that mattered the most to others. Dedication to a futile quest would not earn him longevity on the tongues of others.
þegar úlfarnir opnaði augu hans í myrkrinu.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here


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