the Rift


The Violet Hour

Saga Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#1

Saga
In the dark you tell me of a flower
that only blooms in the violet hour




The sol-star is on his golden descent, making room for the silvery shimmer of Lady Luna. The colors burst together, leaving behind a beautiful show of violets. The clouds move quickly in the colorful sky, managing to obscure the white pin pricks that are just beginning to arrive. With the steady loss of the Sol-star, nights bitter winds whisper through the evergreens. The stout scent of pine is everywhere, latching on for the ride. It is a smell that is as fresh and crisp as the frostfall air. For some it is a great deterrent. While for others it is an alluring aroma. The creatures of the night are starting to wake from the slumber. The sounds of the owls hooting in the distance, echo into the steadily growing darkness.


Saga moves at a slow pace through the frosty forest. Her ears swivel about on her head trying to pick up any distinct sounds of approach. However, she only hears the sound of her own chilling heart beat and the rhythmical drum of her feet. She finds that she is at peace here within the shielding arms of the forest. The long branches of the firs bring her comfort as they stroke along her sides as she passes them by. The wild smells flood her senses with something that is familiar. It made her ache for something more then the cold...home. Saga eases herself down the ramp into the clearing at the threshold. Stopping a moment to access the situation, her deep eyes map out the area. She steps farther inside the opening, propping her head up high looking more like a deer ready to flee then the unicorn that she is.

Saga's features appear statuesque as she stands at attention. The snow is beginning to waft to the ground. Dragons smoke swirls from her black fleshy nostrils as she exhales. The muscles in her legs are shaking and no matter how much she wills them to stop they just are not listening. Despite all this beauty, it is a deadly facade. She heaves as travel fatigue settles in. Finally, willing to split her attention, she shoves her wind chapped muzzle into the soft snow. As she finds tufts of wilted and soggy grass, she pulls them from their frozen grave and swallows them.





Yseulte Posts: 68
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize roni
#2



It is so dark.

She hates it, almost as much as she hates herself. But they are one and the same, Yseulte and the darkness, and so she simply endures it, as she always has. There is no ridding yourself of darkness, she's learned, because only from light are shadows cast. Surely that meant she wasn't entirely terrible, right? She could feel Itzal sneer in her mind, playing on her doubts like a predator that toys with its prey before shredding it to pieces and devouring it in the same bite. He is the darkness, she realizes sadly, but his darkness is mine, because he is part of me.

She sees shadows of her father in him, from time to time. In the beginning, she did not dare to look too long, fearing what she would find refelected back at her in those violet depths of her tiger companion's luminous eyes. Despite her best efforts, she would find herself enthralled and ensnared in his gaze, frozen like a leaf in a winter pond. It unnerved her, what Itzal could do by simply looking at you. Trapped. That was the feeling she often pondered as she stood rendered immobile before him, unable to move or pry her gaze away from his until the sensation of falling abruptly jolted her from his grasp. Zjarri, her monstrously beautiful father, had been able to do the same. The power of his presence was nearly irresistible, but once you looked into his eyes, you were his.

Forever.

She had difficulty imagining her father as a child. Nonetheless, she was distinctly reminded Zjarri whenever she found herself watching Itzal's reckless antics. He was a sourly, angry youth, full of resentment, bitterness, and arrogant pig-headedness. He was especially prone to reckless, impulsive behavior, and enjoyed bullying lesser animals than himself. It concerned her, more than she even dare express to herself, lest Itzal pry through her thoughts and extract it himself. He would only increase the behavior if he knew it unnerved her.

Despite their many differences (as well as an uncanny resemblance of character that she preferred not to think about), the two journeyed together in the darkness. She followed the luminous violet glow ahead of her, catching flashes of his eyes between the trees, iridescent purple and silver. Snow kissed her withers in the gentle embrace of winter—one she was all too familiar with, and her crippled hind leg simply ached thinking of that wintry night atop the mountain, when wolves had bayed all around her in the night. The lack of light and warmth was suffocating, and the dense trees pressing in all around her did naught to relieve her frayed nerves and aching leg. Instead of freezing her voluptuous purple ass off, why didn't she simply abandon this fruitless voyage and return to the blazing fires of warmth and comfort at World's Edge? She did not know which grieved her more—the darkness or the flames. Both awakened long-dead memories and sins she would much rather leave forgotten in the darkest cobwebbed corner of her mind.

Instead of turning back, she presses on blindly, stumbling in the darkness and leaving every remembrance of warmth and light behind her with every passing step. Itzal snarls softly somewhere to her left, a familiar sound that he uses when he swears under his breath. That could only mean one thing: they had company.

And my, what a comely creature she is. Curious and cautious, Yseulte watches the damsel before revealing herself. Glimmering moonlight washes the stranger's coat a silvery-brown, but in the sunlight, surely there could not be a color more rich and dark and lovely than the dappled brown of her skin. And those eyes! Like Itzal, she sports venomous violet eyes that are unusually bright and bold in the darkness. Violet It is the name Yseulte has long since chosen for her future daughter, should she ever conceive such a child.

The unicorn is beautiful, certainly. More beautiful than herself? It is a thought that amuses the iron maiden, with her cold, beautiful face and diamond-hard eyes. Perhaps, and perhaps not. She considers her greeting ahead of time, and decides flattery might yield the best results. Flattery is next to useless when used on Yseulte herself (she is perfectly aware of her beauty and does not need constant reassurance), but in her experience, she has found mares desire beauty above all else.

But Yseulte genuinely hopes the intelligent glitter to this unicorn's eyes will prove her wrong.

"You have lovely eyes," Yseulte says at last, revealing herself and striding slowly through patches of moonlight, doing her best to conceal the limp that plagues her every step. But the stranger is not without weakness, either, Yseulte notes. The brown damsel's legs shiver violently, but whether from the cold or simply exhaustion, Yseulte doesn't know. Perhaps both. Nonetheless, Yseulte boldly approaches, her expression as iron and unfathomable as ever. "But your lovely eyes won't keep you warm, dear sister."

yseulte & itzal
will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? ♥

image credits


ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.

Saga Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#3

Saga
In the dark you tell me of a flower
that only blooms in the violet hour




Saga continues to nose around in the cold snow, occasionally finding her spoils hidden beneath their frozen grave. Her thoughts now gradually drift towards her sister, Balkin. The very reason she left everything familiar to her. As much as Saga loves her, some small part of her is bitter for her disappearance. Balkin and Saga are very much alike, yet, so very different. An now she was tired. Tired of hunting and searching and finding little more then a ghost; A whisper. If Saga really wants to be honest with herself she would admit that somewhere deep down inside she hopes her sister is dead. It would ease the pain of having to face Balkin and ask why. Why so many years without a word from her.

Saga's anger was on the rise, because of her embittered thoughts. However, a feline like growl brings her up short on her painful stewing and emotion baggage. She did little in reaction, so not to bring more attention to herself. It is like a switch that instantaneously turns on. Her black tipped lobed swivel about like radars listening in all directions. Her piercing eyes take on an almost predatoral stare as she watches the darkness. The darkness, it was her solitude. She found solace in it's eternal embrace.

You have lovely eyes. The sound of the approaching unicorns voice made Saga lift her head to meet the entity face to face. An if it was not so cold, she probably would have laughed at the remark. Instead she opted to stay silent. She knows exactly what her eyes truly look like; They are calculating, yet, feral. Saga took mental notes of Yseutle's approach. Her color, features and the limp that she tried so hard to conceal. It was pointless. Anyone who listens to the rhythm of her walk or sees the occasional dip in her step, would know that she was injured. She files all this information away in the files of her brain.

Saga tilts her head slightly at the sight of the white mask that plasters itself on Yseutle face. It was much like Balkin's she thought to herself. Balkin often hide behind her cold expressions to keep people at length. This iron maiden seemed to work so hard at hiding her signs. But as much as one wishes to hide their true self, some are a little more adept at reading those little tells. It can be something as simple as a twitch at the corner of their lips or a casual shift in their weight. Saga's sister gave was great practice at this art.

Pulling herself back to reality she realized The unicorn had added to her statement. Of course pretty eyes did not keep one warm. It was smarts and survival skills that did that. Saga's muscles are still twitching as the cold wraps itself around her body. She is also to tired for pleasantries. "Eyes can do amazing things. They can seek out shelter, and food. They work to keep you safe from potential harm." Having finally spoken, one can here her mild accent. She stands back from this entity waiting for a intellectual response.




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
#4
Does your silence speak the words I hear,
does your reserve mean what I fear?
The world as he knew it was no more. Change had come upon them, sudden and merciless, sparing no one, and forcing them all to cope. There simply was no other way to go about it; the queries cried into the dark on that fateful day, the screams of sheer terror and fright, would not solve a single thing. Perhaps Mauja was hardened by having grown up in a place where he went for weeks without the sun crawling over the horizon, and that was why he remained largely unaffected by the dark thus far, but he had to admit the suddenness of it had startled him. He hadn't been prepared, and his body certainly hadn't been. He should've spent the past weeks eating more food than necessary and basking on the sunning rocks, soaking up what sunlight he could during the too brief days, preparing for the slog through darkness. Even before the sun failed to rise the days were pathetically short and pale, and it took a great toll on the minds of some. Mauja had never been particularly bothered – most born during the darkest times weren't. Summer foals had a harder time coping with it, for they had been born when it never set.

And so, Mauja was rather at ease in the darkness itself, even though his body was shocked at the sudden loss of vital light, warmth and guide. The temperature had dropped steadily, but finally seemed to have evened out somewhat, and his bloodlines had saved him from freezing to death when the sun wasn't there to warm them anymore – in fact, it was a bit like it had been at home.

No, the physical aspects of it he dealt rather well with, but the mental? The Gods were gone. His magic was gone (and while he missed this instinctual, offensive defense, he had to admit it was somewhat of a relief to not have that violent darkness hovering at the outskirts of his mind all the time, even if it felt like he'd lost a limb he hadn't been aware of having). Light was mostly gone; they had some, still, odd sources that nestled in the trees and lit highways across Helovia, and the mirror up in the Basin cast its glow upon the lake. There were no northern lights, for there was no sun to cast it. And Irma.. Irma said it was beautiful, all those trees glowing in the perpetual dark, but she seldom ventured high enough to see it. In fact, she seldom went beyond twenty yards away from him, except when hunting. And then, she always kept an eye on him.

He didn't blame her. In fact, he took comfort in it, while realizing life had to go on. So here he was again, trying to pick up the pieces of his hastily dropped life, weaving among the dark trunks of the Threshold. Irma flew ahead of him, listening in on a conversation, feeding him tidbits of it even as he approached them – two mares, both unicorns, one bearing the distinct salty smell of the Edge. And finally he saw them, one muted to gray in this dark world, the other bearing the barest hint of warmth, of a darker color. She smelled of the world outside. Did she know that the sun would not rise when the clock ticked to morning?

How long were they going to be trapped in this? How long until the trees gave out and died? Would the grass grow fresh in spring?

Too many worries, too many questions, and no answers at all.

She was shivering, he abruptly noticed as he halted a few yards out, raising his pale head in the darkness. "Eyes," he said in a low voice, vaguely amused by something. "Sound an awful lot like ice. But there's more ice than eyes in this world, so keep yours safe." He wasn't even sure what he meant, or what kind of advice it was. Gently he cocked his head to one side. "These are, quite literally, dark times, stranger, so I'll be blunt. I can give you a home, and a family if you so wish. Protection, or the opportunity to protect." He didn't know what kind she was, was merely watching her through the dark, his eyes gentle. "We live in the north, but mountains shelter us from the worst of winds, and hot springs keep our earth warm and soft. You would be most welcome among us."
Mauja Frosthjärta
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Yseulte Posts: 68
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize roni
#5



Those lovely eyes don't miss much, do they? They swept her body, evaluating, analyzing, calculating her flaws, her strengths, and everything in between, but the process was so subtle, so fleeting, even Yseulte could not be sure it had happened. But those violet eyes lingered one moment too briefly on the lower half of her body, sweeping her legs as if those violet eyes possessed x-ray vision. Who knew? Perhaps they did. So the stranger was clever, as well as beautiful; Yseulte would give credit where credit was due. There were not many mares who could boast of being both.

Itzal prowled from the trees into the dim clearing, feathers protruding from between his needle-like teeth and pearls of blood beading his pale throat like a necklace of rubies. He looked so young, so harmless...seemingly no more than the frightened cub she had rescued what seemed like an age ago. Despite his obvious youth, she caught glimpses of something dangerously powerful in his strides, and in his devious mind, she saw his sly and cunning nature, and was oddly proud. Although she could not understand him yet, she almost knew him better than she did herself. It especially unnerved her to realize the darkness and anger in his heart belonged just as much to her as it did to him. What had she ever done to make him despise the world so? His venomous eyes glanced at her briefly, as if pondering the same question, before he turned away, and settled down in the snow in a nonchalant, bored manner, cracking the feathers between his glistening white teeth like bones.

Well, Itzal might be comfortable in this bone-chilling cold and smothering darkness, but Yseulte was not. She was a wild desert flower, conceived and born of fire itself onto sands scorched and burned beneath the sun's hostile gaze, raised with the dry desert wind in her hair and the shifting earth and scorpions beneath her hooves. Even the seasons were different here in Helovia—this Frostfall was an alien concept to Yseulte (only last year had she experienced snow for the first time), and her lithe desert body was ill adapted to such a frigid environment. She was thinner than she ought to be, and colder than she would ever admit, even to herself. Twitching her ears in an irritated manner at the sound of the bird crunching between his teeth, Yseulte refocused her attention on the dark unicorn. She listened to the violet-eyed mare's statements thoughtfully, amused with their easy banter. It took her mind off the darkness, however brief the distraction might be.

Before she could reply, however, another joined them in their shared darkness. Even in this never-ending night, he was a pale, ghostly thing, and the faint glimmer of his horn reflected the inky darkness like black ice, reminding her of the frozen glacial caverns she had explored last Frostfall. His eyes, too, glittered like a thousand shards of shattered ice, and she did not doubt for a second that his mind was not as razor-honed as the rest of his body. While she could appreciate intelligence in her female companions, it was to be scorned in the opposite gender. An intelligent man is an unpredictable man, and an unpredictable man is a dangerous man, and smart, unpredictable, dangerous men must be respected. All around, it was an unfortunate circumstance, and his cold beauty did not, by any means, further her recruiting cause. Threatened it, more like. She thought of her father, then, this stranger's cold, other-worldly beauty distinctly reminding her of Zjarri's divine eyes and body. It dismayed her.

Above all else, beautiful men are not to be trusted.

Despite her heart's misgivings, she held her expression in check, ever the dutiful iron maiden. As men have a tendency to do, he blabbered on about something or some such, before cutting straight to the point, as blunt as the rockslide she imagined in her mind's eye sweeping this meddling man far away. He was a northern man, was he? Cold and cunning as winter, surely, and she, a southern woman at heart, passionate and blazing as the desert heat—both unpredictable as raging sandstorms and freezing blizzards. Scorn him, she might, but it would not do to underestimate him.

And what of this stranger, where did she come from? Perhaps from somewhere in the middle, by the sound of her lingering accent. It was a charming, exotic sound. "All the same, eyes are useless in this darkness," she said bleakly to the unicorn mare. She glanced briefly at the stallion, as if noticing him for the first time. "Especially when discerning friend from foe." Two can play your game. "I offer you the same, of course. I come from the west of our good northern gentleman, from World's Edge. There, we call the sea and sprawling forests home, where the trees are so thick and grand that the snow rarely touches the earth, and our fires burn throughout the night." Home. It tastes odd in her mouth; false, somehow, as if she were attempting to convince herself of World's Edge rather than the stranger. "We are lead by a fierce queen, Mirage the Dragonheart, and a compassionate king, Thor the Gentleheart. I owe them much for their generosity."

And I am repaying them by leaving.

yseulte & itzal
will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? ♥

image credits


ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.

Saga Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#6

Saga
In the dark you tell me of a flower
that only blooms in the violet hour




Saga did not realize that the sunset she had witnessed before crossing the borders into Helovia would be her last. Darkness was a welcoming feature for her, because she was more like the wolf. She enjoys hunting at night and in a pack. However, it is often hard for her to trust others so easily to watch her back. Trust was something that came with time, not because she is the newest member brought into the fold. Her sharp violet hued eyes narrow as another being materialized from the black abyss. She cast her net taking in his confident stride and gentle eyes. She raised her head even higher, her lobes standing erect and tuned into his direction.

Mauja's appears to be strong and captivating. His mind is sharp. This simple fact made her feel the need to always stay two steps ahead. However, at the moment she was at a bit of a disadvantage. Her body and mind are tired of the rigors of travel and the bombardment of winters wraith against her. This ethereal beings words are blunt and to the point. On one hand Saga respects his straightforward approach and on the other it unnerves her. Her tail twitched at all the uncertainty that surrounds her. For whatever reason, this beautiful creature reminded her of a venus flytrap and she was the unsuspecting fly.

It did not take long for the brindled unicorn to speak up and throw her offer of acceptance on the table as well. Saga tilted her head at both of them. She realized that she was suddenly becoming a piece of meat, to be played tug-o-war over.A subtle frown tugged at the corner of her lips. I do not even knows these peoples names! Her mind raged at this fact. It was common courteous to introduce ones self. Apparently, that is a social grace that they lack here. A sigh slipped past her numb and parched lips. " How can you expect me to simply make a choice when you have not even told me your names..? Well then, let me be the first in this ménage à trois to introduce them self. I am Saga.

She stepped back patiently. It did not take long for her odd stained eyes to drift to the feline creature that obnoxiously crunched on the bones of a small bird. While she listened for the others responses, she lowered her chiseled head to get a closer look at the tiger. It was still young, but it was a predator none the less. Saga was not personally a cat person, she definitely preferred canines. She turned her face upwards,"This is a beautiful specimen." It was a statement completely off the current subject, but Saga had a deep interest in other species, especially those that bond to unicorns. She would have to remember to pick her brain on the matter someday.




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
Does your silence speak the words I hear,
does your reserve mean what I fear?
The balance always shifts when someone new arrives. It was inevitable, as inevitable as rain from heavy clouds, or was death coming after life. There was always something, a guarded look in an eye, a restless flick of the tail, shifting the weight – even no physical reaction was a form of reaction, an exercise in control. And Mauja, he was always watching, those patient, gentle blue eyes drinking in every detail they landed upon. He thought little of it, simply gave them a once-over, ignoring the tiger crunching upon a bird. He didn't even need to touch Irma's soul to know it was not her; he wouldn't insult her by even fearing it was her. She was not one to get caught. She had led him here and spiraled off into the darkness, waiting upon a branch, her touch on his mind her compass. No matter how dark the world, she would always find him.

His stance remained regal, relaxed even, tail flitting against his hocks with its usual swish-swash sound. He knew well the small surge of bitterness at competition, how it irked to have someone else show up and try to whisk away your target, and his myriad encounters among these trees had left him with some sort of respect for the other recruiters. He did not enjoy beating about the bush and wasting both theirs and his time by not being to the point; questions he did not mind answering at all, but why not be honest about why you were here, pouncing everyone? Because the truth was, you wanted them, body and heart and and mind, and you wanted them in your herd, or band, and you wanted them before someone else had the chance to claim them. This was the marketplace of Helovia, and while the goods made the decisions for themselves, they were being bought with words. Mauja did not find it strange, nor shy away from it, but listened with a familiar, dull ache to her descriptions of the Edge. It was his, by right.. but here he was, stranded. He refrained from sighing, refrained from throwing a humorless grimace at the titles they had chosen. Dragonheart. Gentleheart. And here stood the Frostheart. All the hearts! He didn't even have one!

He couldn't recall the decision of calling himself Frostheart anymore, and wondered if it had ever been his.

And.. it was not what he had expected. Names? She wanted names? What did it matter what name Mauja bore? Wasn't it more important to peer at his shaded face, remember the cast of his body and its color? A name could be changed at a whim, yet it seemed so important to her. He gave a slight shrug of his snowy shoulders. "I would not have expected my name to make a difference when you judge my herd," he said, quietly. "But perhaps you think us savages for not adhering to courtesy." A slight grin, as if shy of breaking out in the darkness, curled his lips. "Or perhaps the darkness ate the last of decency. I am Mauja." He inclined his head in the darkness, feeling the rustle of wings – hearing it, too. Irma swept out of her tree like snow blown from a branch, caught herself upon his withers and rested there, folding her wings tight. Attention went to the tiger, and Irma sent her disapproval of it; it was a predator, an unknown, a youth, finding game on her territory. Gently, he reminded her Helovia was not hers. Sourly, she disagreed, and he smiled absently.
Mauja Frosthjärta
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Yseulte Posts: 68
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize roni
#8


Of the five that had greeted Yseulte in the mists of the Threshold over a year ago, two had become kings. The Gentleheart and the Lionheart. What had become of the Lionheart, she couldn't say, but her Gentleheart with his gentle eyes and gentle voice, she had left far behind. The thought made her heart ache with a fierce longing, a longing for the sea roaring against the Edge of the world and the screams of seagulls. But she could not turn back, not after coming this far.

Yseulte had wished more than anything that she might belong to World's Edge and had dared hope that she had found her refuge in that kingdom by the sea, a sweet sanctuary that accepted her regardless of the murder staining her heart. And it had, for a time. She discovered friendship in the most unlikely of places, in Lace, her gentle mentor with the sad, distant gaze, as if he had lived a thousand previous lives and none of them happy. And Torasin, her summer-eyed friend, though the wounds of his recent murder still ran deep, raw, and red in her heart; leaving behind her first family in Helovia only salted those wounds further. She had even dreamed dreams of creation and purpose rather than darkness and destruction, and learned from a valiant, fearless queen and her kind, compassionate king.

She would miss them, she realized.

She had never truly been part of the Qian, however. She pretended, mostly, but in reality, Yseulte felt very much like an outsider. A sham, pretending to be something she was not. She belonged in the world of thieves, and murderers, of backstabbers and liars. She didn't deserve belong to this...this honorable family. The word was foreign to her in a way that made her heart ache strangely. It had been doing that a lot lately. She wished the heart wasn't such a weak, vulnerable organ that felt so much.

And so she could understand the violet-eyed mare's need for nothing more than a name, a simple name. Although a name could not say half so much about an identity as actions could, Saga had a right to them all the same. The pale stallion introduced himself first, a thin smile curling over lips like velvet. Mauja. She was not unfamiliar with the name—but then again, neither was the whole of Helovia from the tales of history Lace had once spun for her. But whether or not she recognized the pale unicorn as the ex-king of World's Edge and the reigning Lord of the Basin, her expression did not say. He was a nobody to her, for now. She would not dismiss him completely; no, that would be both foolish and dangerous. Perhaps there would be a time in the future where they might use one another, but until that day, they had no interest in each other, only in the unicorn before them.

Icicles chimed together, a haunting, hollow sound in the dead silent of the forest, and moments later, a great pale owl swept through the darkness, gliding through the air like a ghost and alighting on the stallion's withers. Itzal sneered in her mind, and cracked another bird bone audibly in the brief silence, taunting the bright-eyed creature, daring her to retaliate.

"And I am Yseulte. That beautiful specimen is Itzal, and if he does not behave himself, I shall make myself a lovely fur cloak out of him." Yseulte gave him a cold look, not wishing to see him torn to shreds by that cruelly hooked beak and those gleaming talons. He returned to his meal sullenly, but not before giving her a bitter, venomous look. Let him sulk. He must learn humility. Perhaps the owl ought to teach him a lesson, after all—no doubt it would be more effective than Yseulte lecturing him. To Itzal's mind, she was simply his butler, and an ill-tempered butler at that.

"If neither of these options appeal to you, I would have you join me," she said at last. She did not extend this invitation often, but in Saga, she saw something she liked. What would Mauja make of this new twist? He could make of the Valkyries what he liked. Let him ponder their existence or dismiss it completely; she cared not. "I cannot offer you a safe home surrounded by mountains or fancy walls, but then, what are walls and kingdoms compared to freedom? Join my Valkyries, and you shall have it."

yseulte & itzal,


ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.

Saga Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#9

Saga
In the dark you tell me of a flower
that only blooms in the violet hour




It was not that the name was truly important, but for one to judge the herd, they must first examine the only thing that is laid out before them. Saga is not usually for all the pomp of introductions, but this is the first time she has ever been outside her own lands. However, she has been traveling for so long now. Her eyes ravaged over both of the creatures that stood before her. Mauja seemed to be a wonderful exhibit of his herds stock. He was beautiful. If that word was a suitable description for a unicorn male. He possessed sharp eyes, that appear so gentle, but seem to miss nothing. These were a combination to be admired, but to also be very weary of.

Saga's deep pools looked over Mauja as he introduced himself. She cocked her head to the side, like a crow eyeing a worm in a hole, as his snowy companion perched itself on his back. Her first reaction was to ask how he could stand the sharp claws against his skin, but she seconded guess herself and decided silence was the best option for the moment. It was still very fascinating. It intrigued her that a bond could be so strong or at least appear to be. She had seen it only a few times here and there during her travels.The sound of Yseulte's much more feminine voice pulled her from her more studious nature. "Mauja...Yseulte, it is a pleasure to meet you both."

Saga looked over the purple unicorn that had been the first to approach her. She was....respectable, and something in the way to spoke, made Saga stop to listen. Rounded lobed narrowed forward." Valkyries you say? Hmmm, that is a very interesting offer. However, I do not want to seem rude, but I am tired of being cold and I am extremely sick of soggy grass." Her delicately accented voice was chattered. The wintry winds were merciless.

She took a step back , so, it was pankossible to address both of them. "Mauja, th you for yout offer. I will accompany you back to the basin." Her statement held the finality of her decision. "Miss Yseulte, I am not a fan of the ocean, and for that I apologize. But, I am interested in more information about your Valkyries. So, if it is possible I would love to continue this conversation very soon." She gave a sharp nod of her chiseled head to Yseulte. Saga liked her. She seemed so cryptic. An cryptic people held some of the most lively stories.

She squared herself up so she was staring wide eyed at the spotted lord. She was waiting for him to lead the way. Without even giving a glance; She reminded the purple dyed mare that she truly wished to talk and learn more. " Do not forget. Soon we should meet again. I would love to learn more about your Valkyries, and your young bone crunching companion." Her wind chapped lips had begun to crack from what little conversation that had past between the three of them. She was ready to leave. " Mauja, I would also like a chance to pick your brain as well, about your...." She trailed off as she craned her head so that she could look at his owl. "Friend. Of course, whenever the time is convenient for you."

An so she waited to see what the Basin would bring.





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
#10
Does your silence speak the words I hear,
does your reserve mean what I fear?
[ Sorry for the wait, Eomie :/ Work is not really conductive to posting. ]

Oh, how her cold soul itched for the simple touch of magic, the rush of darkness so similar to the one that flowed through his veins when the ice saluted the sky – but the thrill of power was simply gone, the stores of dark energy exhausted, depleted by something unknown. When the Gods had gone, they'd taken the magic with them, and with it, Irma's plaything. She longed to twist the silly little tiger's mind around, to breathe fear into his mouth and make the world around him whisper dark things, to find what he dreaded the most and make it all come alive. Talons sunk deeper into her bondmate's skin, the longing pouring through their entwined souls, until she felt the flickering response in him, a silent, sudden yearning to send the ice to the sky and through that pristine white body.

But nothing, nothing, was at their beck and call. Only silence flowed through their veins.

Her name was Yseulte; his name was Itzal.

His head tilted slightly to one side, gaze skimming over the white predator before returning to the mare they both had come for.. Saga. Slowly, he inclined his head, his white mane flowing about his neck with the gentle movement. Conversation always flowed like the tide, rising and ebbing, and it was his turn to fall silent, and listen. Yseulte spoke of something that could only be a small group, perhaps and Outcast band or a faction of the Edge – Valkyries, she called them, valuing freedom, and somehow he got the feeling they did not reside in the Edge.. not if freedom was what they had to offer. Constant danger and strife, more like it, his mind murmured, but he said nothing of it. There was no reason to make an enemy out of someone when he didn't even know their agenda, but it was undeniable that many small bands had sprung up all over. Pirates, assassins, and now these Valkyries, whatever they were.

But it seemed the lure of a stable home was greater, though Mauja had to smother a snort at the reasoning. Tired of the cold? Welcome to the north. Soggy grass? Well.. was the Basin grass soggy? No.. the winters up there were dry, weren't they.. but what about the warm ground? Did it melt the snow? It was awkward to realize he'd not spent much time at all in the Basin this winter, and barely remembered the last one.

"Well, Saga, let me warn you that the way to the Basin is fairly cold," he interjected smoothly, once the decision had been announced, and chose not to comment on Saga's interest in the Valkyries. While he disliked the notion of harboring someone and just waiting for them to leave, perhaps he could convince her (or leave someone else to convince her) that the Basin was worth staying in – maybe, he could even convince her to spy for them.. but that was a task for another day and time. Now, he had to get Saga home in one piece, through the compact darkness. Maybe she wouldn't want to leave once she was in the Basin, given the utter darkness of the Steppe. You had to know your way by heart to get across it.

At the comment of Irma, Mauja laughed, the sound both soft and deep in the darkness. "But of course; when we walk, perhaps? Yseulte, it was a pleasure meeting you. Have a good, well, day – I really don't know what point of a normal day it is right now..." He offered the tiger-mare a smile, inclining his head, before turning to face north and west, to lead Saga out of the forest by the Foothills and then, the long trek through the cold, dark north.

[ soo, idk, do you guys want to get a last post in? and Eomie, do you want me to start something for us in the Basin? :3 ]
Mauja Frosthjärta
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Saga Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#11
OOC:We can finish up here if you would like! An yes I would love to start something in the basin!


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