the Rift


[OPEN] Weary Steps

Hellena Posts: 64
World's Edge Seer
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 hh :: 26 Buff: NOVICE
Whit
#1
Hellena
It had been difficult to orchestrate, this extraction of a pegasus who had lost her power of flight. I could only imagine the pain, the suffering she went through, and entertained myself with the notion that it would be akin to my horn fracturing and falling away from my forehead; departure of a limb, a vessel, a crucial and defining point of one's body and soul. The mere thought of it triggered a shiver to rattle down my spine; if I feared anything, that would surely be it.

Violet gaze welcomed the sight of our warriors, brothers to the WeyrLeader herself, walking back through the mists of our home, each one shouldering the fallen pegasus. I could not be sure of her conscious state, I could only guess as to the amount of pain she was in, I could only wonder whether she thought all of this but a dream - a nightmare.

"You are safe here, child." I murmur with my deep, warm lyrics, my tones purposefully welcoming and soothing, extending towards her like a warm embrace, hoping to carry her into a deep slumber where she could rest in safety beneath the stars and the mists, where we can set to work to mend her broken bones and hopefully, eventually, her broken spirit. I do not know what this cherub did to warrant such a violent punishment, such a cruel and strict judgement - though rumours tell me that merely the sight of her wings would be reason enough to those in the north - but she is a sister to us through the home she has chosen to reside in, and so we would stand loyal to her cause, if only for our loyalty to Kri the Resolute.

"Rest now." I step towards her, pressing my muzzle against her, nodding to the winged compatriot that lingers nearby. With a grateful tilt of my tiara to the brothers, I dismiss them from their duty, capable of guarding this guest in the mists of my abode. Summoning my voice, I sung into the mists then, calling for a healer - the only healer we have left, the Wild Rose and her cerulean companion - to mend the broken bodice of the Spanish beauty before us.

[ ooc :: Okay, so I've taken some liberty with this post - if I've done anything you don't approve of just let me know and I'll change it. This is set before the Dead Magic plot.

Basically Madyrn and Maskan are the ones who rescued her and escorted her back to the Edge, she is now somewhere deep in the mists with Hellena alone, who has just called for Smoke.
Tagged;
@[Africa]
@[Smoke]
Open to anyone else from the Edge (or Throat for that matter) <3 ]
in rumor we find truth and in life we find lies, death offers only a temporary respite.
credits

Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#2
Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding

It had been well less than a season, perhaps insignificant compared to others who had been taken before her. To the everlasting child though, who had left the sanctuary of her beloved homeland all those moons ago so oblivious to the malice gripping Helovia; ever trustful and innocent, a lifetime had been lost; devastated, ripped from her sweet soul. The cruel incarceration had been burned into her mottled hide, wounds, abrasions and a gory hole would become thick scars, to remind her forever of her imprudence; her reckless transgression into the enemy’s territory. Her suffering was great and the point of her mistake had well been proven by the morbid hand of death, and with the brutal spilling of her own blood; torture and humiliation. Broken physically, with dying spirit and a sour heart, Africa drifted resignedly between delusion and truth.

Silas was overwhelmed by the sorrow and hurt his splintered heart leached from Africa’s. His world was awash with grim desperation; their misery had escalated far beyond his understanding; his culpability. The young ebon Zephyr with stars speckling his back, could only keep the fallen mare company as she mourned away her life, though distraught, perched atop the subtle rise and fall of her barrel; open wings ineffectually shielding her from the fluttering, relentless snow.

-

Something unusual happened around the fortieth moon, the sun had not warmed the Basin for many days. The blizzards had settled at last, though they had smothered the lush Basin with deep, soft snow, and beneath the drift lay the dapple grey Pegasus with only one wing.

Two horses came through the choking blackness of one freezing night. One was cloaked in midnight itself- hardly noticeable if not for strange crimson flames burnt into his hind legs and a glowing blaze spanning his chiselled skull. He came upon the little rock overhang where Africa lay. Startled, barely weeks old and half starved, Silas could do naught but flee into the skeleton of a nearby tree and watch bewildered as he the mare was stirred from the brink of death. The shadowy stranger was not like the bloodthirsty demons here; his face, visible to such a creature of the night, did not wield a spear; his stark orange eyes glowed with something that was not merciless or ravenous.

Africa’s head lifted tiredly as though it were made of solid marble. She gestured without opening her eyes, shooing the stallion incoherently as though he were merely an inconvenient fly.

The stranger persisted however, reaching with bristled lips to rouse her again. The other stallion moved forward too; he also blended perfectly into the thick night, apart from crimson flames which wrapped inanimately about his forelegs, and he too wore a bright blaze over his smooth face. Together they worked, tenderly obliging Africa to her feet, and Silas watched motionless and confused as they turned her between their hulking bodies and began to move her forward- they guided her out of hell’s pit.

-

"You are safe here, child."

Africa’s eyes opened weakly, only just, and what she saw through dense black lashes was the blurred figure of a Unicorn ghost looming before her. The voice, she felt dimly as she swayed between her enduring guards did not match the wickedly sharp bone which drew her fading, fuzzy focus, and bathed in exhausted confusion Africa closed her blood-shot eyes again, believing easily that she were dead.

"Rest now."

She did not notice the two strangers slip away, or that the bitter cold which licked through Aurora Basin did not claw at her grazed shoulder; the gaping, bloodied socket above it where once a glorious, feathered wing unfurled. She did not notice her knees buckle; she did not feel the welcoming pillow of long, supple and frostless grass welcome her sleeping mass upon its bed. Africa surrendered, beneath the watchful gaze of Silas, who had followed the strange turn of events from some distance, nervously curious for the sake of his bonded.

[ooc: Africa has grazing across her left shoulder from falling on rubble, an infected spear wound on her croup from Deimos's horn, and her left wing has been severed and stolen entirely from its socket by Crash Course. Also bruising and strains from all that took place.

Whit: I can change any of this if you don't like it.]

credits

Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
Hidden Account
Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
#3
Unexpectedly a call came, from deep within the mists. Ears twitched and swivelled as the Moon Doctor looked up in surprise. The Seer wanted a healer? Why? It was almost more for curiosity's sake than her sense of duty that the grulla mare stirred to answer. A flicker of thought drew the attention of her hunting soulmate as she headed deeper into the mists, awareness tracking his location as he abandoned his hunt to investigate himself.

In the near distance, almost lost amidst the mists, she noticed the figures of the Dragonheart's brothers. Dark eyes tracked them as they moved off in the opposite direction, quite obviously not the cause of this call for aid. But still, she watched until their dark forms were lost in the mists, unable to help herself from trying to tell them apart when their bodies were obscured so.

A soft chirrup from overhead drew her attention back to the matter at hand, hastening her steps until the pale outline of the Seer materialized from the deep mists. And at her feet... "What... happened to her?" Bewildered and concerned, the Wild Rose immediately bent to the task of analyzing the pegasus mare huddled at Hellena's hooves.

It was the blue dragon that noticed the young zephyr with the feathers near as dark as his own hide. Deliberately he settled onto the ground a careful distance away, wings flipping closed, before padding closer. His head bobbed as he trilled a friendly welcome, followed by a reassuring croon. Dragon and mare alike knew the way emotions could -and would- filter through the bond between companion and horse, even at this young age.

"I can do nothing for the lost wind, save close the wound. She will be grounded unless the Gods bless her." It was a muttered commentary, deliberately loud enough for Hellena to hear. "But this infection and the overall battering I can heal." Even as she spoke, she wove the magic of the Moon, swirling tendrils of darkness showing starkly against the drifting white of the mists. Following the intent of their wielder, they lay against the bloody, open sock that should have held a wing, cleansing the blood and mending the skin. Again they lay against dappled grey flesh, ridding the gash upon the mare's croup of corruption even as muscles and skin were stitched back together. Finally they wound their way over the peaks and valleys of the pegasus' body, soothing the worst of the aches and working out the deepest kinks.

The darkness dissipated as the grulla mare snorted out a breath, dark grey coat dampened by sweat. Wearied by the sheer amount of willpower and control it took to mend so many ills, she had left the smallest, simplest ones undone. Stepping back, Smoke stood with her head bent, drawing in deep breaths. "I have done what I can. Infection will not take her, and the worst wounds are closed. She will still hurt, but not nearly as much. It is best that she rest and recover as much as possible before making the return trip." Dark eyes lifted to study the pale figure of the Seer, thinking. She had caught the scents of Basin and Throat on the mare during the healing process. Basin most recent, Throat older but unmistakeable. A poorly treated prisoner, obviously. The Wild Rose wondered at the intensity of the reaction that would arise from the Resolute and the Tuuli when this mare's situation was revealed. The Basin had better beware, before they bit off a bigger bite than they could chew.

Hellena Posts: 64
World's Edge Seer
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 hh :: 26 Buff: NOVICE
Whit
#4
Hellena
It was a comfort to know my call would be answered, no matter the true reasons behind the obedience. Those who were our enemies may be cruel in taking from us a healer, but at least we had another, experienced in the art of directing the shadows and wind into the confines of the body, putting their power into mending, knitting together broken sinew, reconnecting disconnected vessels, ensuring the heart and mind were sound. My tiara nodded to the grulla as she arrived, my horn tilting towards the drake who accompanied her as silent, quiet acknowledgement. The concern in my eyes flickered to meet her gaze, and then focus solely upon the fallen pegasus who slept restlessly at my hooves; I did not answer her query, merely allowed her wise mind to put the pieces together, and get to work swiftly to rectify the clear wrong that had been done here.

I felt the magic of the lands swell and gather, I always felt them, in the mists, in the moonlight, and it was humbling for me to witness another wield them with expertise and respect as I would do. The mists followed my commands, gave me clues as to the past, present and future that may unfold, but beyond that, they held no direct interaction that I could use upon another, friendly or no. The concern in my mask slowly gave way to relief, though the lines of worry did not completely fade - I was no fool to think that such a journey of healing could ever be so easy. I could only imagine the mental torment she was going through, the fear that would grip her, the depression for her own situation that would plague her. I could not bear to send her home unless she had come to terms with her ordeal, but I felt that such a thing would be impossible to do in a reasonable amount of time - and I did not intend on keeping her here, against her will, for the rest of her life (for I assumed that the trauma would haunt her forevermore).

Raising my warm violet irises to view the Wild Rose once more, I finally motion to speak to her. "At least she can rest now, without waking to agony every time she twitches. Thank you Smoke, Zaffre." I looked to the dragon, and the consequently to the exotic bird that was the bonded of Africa, the one we had rescued. "Guard her dreams, little zephyr, ensure they are soothing and long lasting." I speak with warmth and welcome to our winged friend, hoping that he would recognise the relative peace his bonded would be feeling now, hoping that he understood my plea to encourage his beloved to sleep through until morning and beyond if needed; the path to healing began with resting one's mind, preparing it to face the day ahead. Turning my sights back to Smoke, I offer a smile that held no happiness.

"Dark times are ahead." The words drop from my mouth with the abstract notion that contained no real context. Smoothly, I moved my body so that I might lay near the fallen mare. Though infection did not plague her bodice any more, it was not warm in this season (though it would invariably be warmer here than her previous prison cell), and while she still shook with dreams of violence and fear I hoped to at least soothe the tremors that might rack her body. I could block out some of the chill with my own ivory hide pressed up against her similarly grey one, legs folded neatly beneath me, elongated tail draped over her haunches, and my nape running parallel to her own, to increase the skin to skin contact and therefore, the warmth that might spread between us. Sleep was not something that came to me often, and tonight would be no different; I would meditate, philosophise and ponder the events that had unfolded, and wonder at what would continue to unravel as our futures became our presents.

[ ooc :: It's totally fine Riv <3

You're welcome to have her wake up in the morning, or whenever, Hellena is lying by her side for warmth - I assume Smoke is nearby also. ^^ ]
in rumor we find truth and in life we find lies, death offers only a temporary respite.
credits

Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#5
Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding

Whatever the level of understanding and sympathy shared between reptile and bird, the lonely little star-spangled Zephyr frequently sought the dragon’s reassurance through that first night; free from whiteout-winds and hyper vigilance. Often a soft mismatched trade of clicks, croons and chirps rattled through the billowy mists of that mysterious forest, and while Silas could never understand the messages relayed by the exotic dragon’s tongue, he found some solace when he finally dared hop through the limber grass, to settle in the empathetic company offered.

The dapple grey mare stirred often, provoked by memories both violent and raw, ricocheting through her collapsed body. The little shadowy bird’s heart would lurch fearfully in response each and every time; his troubled lavender gaze leaping helplessly from Africa’s jerking limbs, to the sleepless watchful embrace of the white mare’s violet eyes. Silas rested little, only when exhaustion briefly gripped his bonded’s frail mind, allowing her to slip away into feeble bouts of oblivion- that was when her heart steadied, and he was soothed.

When morning broke, diluted sunlight saturated the ancient forest and mild warmth slowly began to melt away the night’s bitter chill. The mist lingered though, and when bleary honey eyes opened at last, they did not immediately recognize the change of environment. While they adjusted, very gradually, Africa remained slumped where he had fallen the night before. She thought, as a searing headache pulsed angrily against her sunken temples, that it was odd that she could not feel anything else. For so long, she had been tortured with the aftermath agony dealt by the spiteful and heartless, that it had become somewhat normal- debilitating, but familiar.

Her burning mind was a mere, bearable flicker of the lasting pain which had now seemingly vanished. Thick mottled neck curled upwards suddenly, the realisation that something was not right, sweeping through her as a sickening surge of renewed adrenaline. Obliviously overcompensating for the weakened state of her legs, Africa heaved herself off the earth so that she might rest her spinning head in a slightly more upright position. To her astonishment though, the action occurred quite effortlessly and she toppled right over to the other side, powerless with reduced means to balance. Shocked and confused, the young horse scrambled promptly and shakily to her feet and poised in static bewilderment there, wide suspicious eyes absorbing the drastic shift of tundra to woodland, and wet, cold snow to lush grass.

Already Silas was fluttering about the mare’s face, filled with the same apprehension now portrayed through every flinching line of his bonded’s wasted frame. Desperately he reached out for her erratic, frightened gaze with his own gentle eyes, to settle her and comfort her; so that she would not balk and flee, because her confidence had been broken down to unrefined instinct, he knew.

Africa saw her friend then, the little glossy angel who had appeared one day, to touch her heart, and fill the lonely void. It had been a miracle, she had presumed ignorantly at the time, when there still had been some sliver of arrogant hope in her. She had been warmed by his company, blessed, but alas the seed of depression; of guilt and sorrow, had already been sprouting through her soul.

"Silas" She cried aloud, with a wild and shrill voice that was not her own. She was noticing for the first time that unfamiliar company loomed nearby; but the Zephyr’s eyes had shed the panic still rampant in her own. There was mellowness about them, a contagious calm that melted away the uncertainty and distress; and Africa held her breath, though swinging defensively from reach of the two strange mares, to stare at them with inconceivably renewed vigour, head on.

credits

Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
Hidden Account
Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
#6
In the wake of healing, as her own shadow-clad figure sought to recovery from the exertion of magic use, only then did white-edged ears hear the soft words spoken by an exotic voice, tinged with the wear and wonder of more years than the Wild Rose could imagine. They were polite words, ones spoken in quiet appreciation and thanks, and they earned a low hum of acknowledgement and a slight incline of a head already head low. Dark eyes watched dragon and zephyr, voices lifting in high-pitched but quiet chatter, the exact meanings of which were lost by all but the one uttering them, yet the gist of the meaning was there. Friendship, understanding, acceptance, comfort.

It was a sound that often punctuated the quiet of that night, as the grulla mare stood silent sentinel, half drowsing on her feet. An ear was ever cocked, listening to the uneasy stirring of fever-sleep, growing alert whenever the dreams wracked the ill mare to a severe enough point that the zephyr's twitching woke the dragon coiled around it, sharing the internal heat of his fire with the youngster through the night. Then she would turn to watch the dappled pegasus where she lay beside the pale Seer, watch until the height of the dreams subsided and allowed her patient to rest more fully.

At last morning came, lighting up the mists with a dim but warm glow. The Wild Rose was awake, nosing through the bracken and loam for a nibble or two of grass or perhaps some specimen of herbalistic healing. At first she was not aware the pegasus had woken, until a sudden flurry of motion in her peripheral vision had her turning to look. Inwardly she cringed as the other mare lurched up in a panicked surge of motion... only to tip over almost immediately. It was good that she'd made sure that empty socket was healed up solid, or else the air would already be filled with the scent of fresh blood from a broken-open wound.

Zaffre was awake by then as well, rudely woken by the zephyr that clambered over him in its mad rush to reach and calm the panicked pegasus somewhere between the first and second passes for a more vertical view on life. Grumpily he peered blearily at the pair, blinking jade eyes clear of sleep, before begrudgingly unwinding himself in a long stretch of rustling wings and swaying tail.

A quiet chuckle escaped the grulla mare at the slow roll of emotions that thrummed between herself and the sleepy dragon, but it was a sound swiftly cut off at the shrill cry of the hitherto unnamed-in-present-company zephyr. Silas. "So that is the name of your brave little friend." Her voice was quiet and kind, warm and honest. "He followed you here when the Dragonheart's brothers stole you away from the Basin's captivity. You are safe now, my dear. There is no safer place for you than the heart of the Edge, guarded by dragons and your loyal zephyr."

Slowly she stepped forward, head dipping low to meet the blue dragon who padded over to join her. It brought her closer to the pegasus mare, yes, but the innocuous reason of greeting her still-sleepy bonded, in the eyes of a mare soul-bonded to a zephyr, would perhaps not be enough to spark a flight-or-fight reaction. She brushed her ebon muzzle against the dark hide of the blue dragon who arched up into her caress like a bizarre version of a house-cat, wings partially unfurled as a crooning sigh of contentment vibrated out of his pale chest. Affectionately she lipped the crest of the dragon's arching, undulating back, until a tail switch had him bounding over to her left hoof and then leaping straight up. The feat was aided by a quick, rather noisy beat of his wings, but the end result had him poised on the Wild Rose's withers for a heartbeat. Then he tip-toed down her spine to sprawl across her haunches in his customary location, a dark shadow over slate-gray hide.

"I used my magic to heal you," came the quiet murmur as Smoke looked up from her rarely viewed morning interlude with Zaffre. "But I could not heal everything, I am sorry to say. Only the Gods could have done more, last night." Had Torasin still been alive, she could have wielded the Moon's power alongside him to heal every ailment save that lost wing and the missing feathers on the other. Neither she nor him, though, could do anything for the loss of an extremity. Not the physical loss, nor the emotional one. Only time could do anything about that, and perhaps the blessing of a kind deity at the end of one of their bizarre quests to prove oneself.

Hellena Posts: 64
World's Edge Seer
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 hh :: 26 Buff: NOVICE
Whit
#7
Hellena
Though the infection was gone, the feverish nightmares remained, evidenced by the tremors and moans that travelled through the poor mare laying beside me. My only comfort when thinking of her suffering, was that it would all be over soon. For once, I welcomed the rising of the Sun, the warming of the ground, the beginning of a day that would eventuate in the beginning of a long healing process; things could only go up from here - we would not allow it to get worse again. As the Sun rose, so too did I, feeling the stirrings of consciousness take the mare, I was sure to be out of range of flailing limbs and appendages. As she rose, and shouted to her bonded, I could only smile a small, warm smile, it's presence upon my lips inviting and welcoming to the idea of kinship shared not only between the bonded creatures, but between all of us, as sisters of herds in a firm alliance. The same observation is made of the healer and her dragon, and I wonder if I would ever be fortunate enough to bond with a companion - if it was even possible for one of my ancient bloodline, and age. I digress, however.

"Africa," I speak warmly, as Smoke's words come to a halt, my voice filling the silence that would otherwise consume us into a further delirium. "I am Hellena, and this is Smoke and Zaffre,"- it mattered not how I knew the names - it was my duty to know all that occurred within the herd, and so I did -"we are allies, my dear, and shall deliver you home again once you feel up to the journey. For now, please, rest, eat, heal. Listen to your bonded - he will help you remember what pain might have blinded from your mind, if you wish to validate our words." Asking the mare to revisit her pain was, in my opinion, better to be done sooner rather than later. But she was among friends, kind souls willing to listen to whatever she had to say, whatever questions she had to demand of us, whatever needs she required filling. I had to wonder whether she would hold judgement against me or my words for the horn I wore upon my brow, but those of the Throat and Edge were generally tolerant of all species, despite the abject racism of those in the North suggesting supremacist ideals to exist within each unicorn soul.
in rumor we find truth and in life we find lies, death offers only a temporary respite.
credits

Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#8
Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding

"So that is the name of your brave little friend." The unfamiliar though warm voice of the slate-grey mare broke through dense confusion and uncertainty gripping the moment. Africa’s strained expression snapped towards her. The equine continued tenderly to explain all that had had taken place; that which had led Africa to this point where she stood across clenched, splayed legs before the two mares and the little blue dragon. The Edge...? Africa questioned silently, pale brow lifting to reveal her surprise. Her head hurt, pounding all the more when she tried to venture back through fuzzy memories to establish why that name sounded so familiar. She could not break through the chronic infection which was her time spent imprisoned however, and closed her eyes tightly to ward off the vision of snow-crust, rock and rime- and all that would surely follow.

As the grey Pegasus’s heart rate settled, so too did the nerves of her Zephyr companion, and she watched closely as the small dark bird lifted between gentle flaps to perch across a low branch, just beyond the mare who had spoken. The mist still lingered about the knees of the three horses, even as the softly seeping sunlight thawed the frosty air, and while Silas wanted to remain close by his friend’s side, he found the strange old forest unnerving; he felt vulnerable and exposed upon its clouded floor. Africa never questioned his reasoning, as her eyes locked with his for a fleeting moment; somehow she could feel his unwaveringly fierce loyalty- and this was only assured further by the words of the wingless, hornless mare beneath him.

A deep, pensive sigh slipped through Africa’s barely parted lips and she lowered her pale, amber eyes to look upon the mare and dragon as they came together; reconnecting fondly through affectionate touch. The young grey’s eyes softened as a serene sort of pallid glow glazed across them, she did not know that Silas too was watching the couple, and that between herself and her bonded a shared composure could have been allowed to strengthen. When the dragon at last was lying sprawled and comfortable across his mare’s hindquarters, the grulla began to speak again. Quickly, Africa switched a narrowed glance towards the other mare, both curious and cautious because she was yet to speak. She could not have known that it was this quiet heart who had coordinated the mid-night stealth, nor that she held no affiliation with the feral clan of the north. For now though, still with very slight traces of her former self buried beneath the aloof, untrusting posture, Africa did not pass any spiteful judgement.

"I used my magic to heal you," Quickly, she glanced towards the speaker though her eyes were not focused; could not centre. Heal me? Her mind’s eye whispered inaudibly while the Shaman spoke on. Filled with sorrow, she remembered that nauseating sound; the popping joint, the crunching ligaments that could grip no longer. At that point her stomach began to tremble and twist, and Africa felt as heavy as she did dizzy, closing her eyes and frowning pitifully as she fought to steady her swaying balance. The squeamish horse did not dare spare even the slightest glimpse towards her naked left shoulder. She could not...

"Africa," A second voice instantly filled the void left when the other ceased, "I am Hellena, and this is Smoke and Zaffra." As her eyes began to swell with hot melancholy, tears of desolate despair channelled through the grub and grim which coated her pale, dropping face. Not that it mattered, but she knew then why the Edge was familiar- Thor’s kindly features drifted past her closed eyes, a face from what felt now like long, long ago. Hellena continued, her voice soothing and sympathetic, but Africa was shrinking into herself; escaping her morbid reality into a tunnel of miserable isolation through which no one would be able to reach her; nobody could harm her. Sinuhe, she recalled sullenly, had not paid the ultimate price.

Africa wanted to collapse forward and bury herself in the caring embrace of these two mares; to prove her appreciation, because not one inch of her resented being removed from the Basin’s wretched walls. A chirp, saddened by the sudden gush of his bonded’s emotion, danced down through the group; but there was nothing Silas could do, his presence was only the smallest grain of light in the broken mare’s heart. Just like the weeks passed when Africa had shut the world out and submitted to defeat, he felt hopeless grief. The Zephyr’s short life thus far, had been the most gut-wrenching rollercoaster to say the least. Brave and true though, his love did not falter, and his eyes bled the depression which filled her soul.

She did not want to go home; she did not want to face the judgement undoubtedly waiting by the terracotta borderline of her home. Africa sobbed bitterly; renewed hate for all that had happened to her, forcing uncontrollable convulsions through her hunched over frame. She wanted to grovel like the pitiful traitor she had become, to beg Hellena and Smoke if she could stay with them, in their sanctuary, forever. Panic filled her as Kri’s stern warning began to resonate inside her pulsing skull, and Silas swept down to sit faithfully by her stiff leg. Africa was a coward and she cursed herself wretchedly, clamping her eyes tighter with each loathing breath.

credits

Cirrus Posts: 233
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
Whit
#9
Our Northern venture had proven interesting if unsuccessful, so far. Clinging to the back of my beloved as we flew, the wind as our guide, we drifted, almost out of habit, along a line that would put us near the borders to the World's Edge, our herd led by a mare whom Kri herself considered much a sister, and so Cirrus inherently felt safe with them. I felt the trickle of thought go through her intelligent tiara, considering pulling over to rest, to see how they were coping through the winter, and perhaps, to see if she could learn anything from their healers, much as she had intended to do with the guild . The morning's sunrise was splashed across her pelt, the sparse clouds patterning her with pale, soft-looking markings, marred of course by the fact that a great black and blue hound was sprawled across her winters and spine. It was awkward, but functional, and so we continued to use it when travelling across great distances, such as that from the Steppe to the Throat.

We landed upon the borders, and it was there that I departed from her back. We were quite north to the realm still, and as I relieved myself nearby, I could not help but detect the most curious of scents, accompanied by a very interesting trail. Three sets of hooves, two of them almost identical, one of them done by something very weak, and stumbling, and injured, and feathered… and from the Throat. My sensitive nostrils did not miss much, and as I began following the trail, so too did my bonded soon rush to my side, worry whirling all about her as she trotted to keep up with my determined pace. We met the brothers of darkness and flame whose hooves had marked the trail earlier on, so similar to their sister, the leader here, they were, that Cirrus was struck silent for a moment. A few passing words, and we were permitted, almost encouraged, to pass by.

The fog thickened, but it did not hinder my nose's capabilities. My tail was set determinedly behind me, taut and straight, my back alighting in those dancing blue flames to better allow my beloved to see. Even though sunlight broke out above us, it was densely forested here, and sight was obscured further by these thick mists, so it was by scent and sound that we travelled by mostly. I paused, just before we both stepped into a strange, small clearing of sorts, a low whine emanating from my throat as we did so, as we assessed what was before us. "Africa!" My beloved little cloud exclaimed, shock, happiness, surprise and horror all revealed in that one word. With barely a glance spared for the other present, my beloved young healer surged forth and draped a wing over her friend, rubbing her muzzle along her nape, attempting to dry her tears with the soft velvet touch of her maw.

"What happened?" Swiftly she threw a glance to the others present, forgetting completely to introduce both herself and me, simply demanding answers without considering the consequences of her unannounced arrival. I sat on the edge of the group, hoping to appear small and nonthreatening for the time being, shaking my head slightly as my bonded forgot everything about manners for the sake of wanting to help a friend in need.
background pattern by Patrick Hoesly @ flickr.com
as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:


    Smoke the Wild Rose Posts: 128
    Hidden Account
    Mare :: Equine :: 15.2 hh :: 10 Buff: SWIFT
    Zaffre :: Common Blue Dragon :: Fire Breath Kachie
    #10
    It was reassuring to watch from the corner of her eye as the pegasus mare slowly calmed, lulled by gentle words and innocent actions, settling into an even mindstate. But that shifted after the mention of healing, bringing an alert reaction from the grulla mare. Slow steps were taken as she watched the subtle swaying of the mare, Africa. That was the name revealed by Hellena after her own words fell silent and the Seer chimed in to actually do introductions.

    Feather-light, her muzzle reached out to touch the curve of a lowered neck, wordlessly offering unasked-for support. Low crooning erupted from the dragon upon her back, a quietly soothing melody of reassurance. Even as he sang his tune, the one usually reserved for foals wakening out of nightmares, his ever-alert gaze fell upon a stranger and alerted his bonded just heartbeats before a young voice cried out in recognition of the battered mare.

    The scent of the Throat was rich and exotic in the healer's nostrils as the young mare rushed forward to stand beside Africa, a flurry of movement and emotions. A draped wing, comforting touches to wipe away tears, the sudden shift from attentive and caring friend to sharp inquisitor.

    "She was prisoner of the Basin, and ill-treated there. Two of our protectors rescued her, and I've done what I can to heal her physical ills. But I can do nothing for the damage done to her soul."

    Hellena Posts: 64
    World's Edge Seer
    Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 hh :: 26 Buff: NOVICE
    Whit
    #11
    Hellena
    The depression that took her was saddening to watch. I observed her resolve, built up on fear and paranoia, finally crumble, the pieces falling down bit by bit, until all that was left was an empty shell. A frown creased my brow, as I yearned to chase this terrible emotion away from her - but I did not know how, and so I remained, standing, silently watching, drinking in all around me. As Smoke reached her muzzle out to the mare, I wondered just how much the simple gesture could do - certainly I had never experienced it myself, at least not from a physical being - the mists of the Edge was an exception. They were my constant companion.

    The hustle and bustle arrival of another was received with quiet continued observation. It was so much that I knew she was coming, but when I heard her footsteps nearby, I had guessed quite accurately at just what would unfold. A friend, a loved one, a young, vibrant girl from the Throat. I did not refute her entry, nor did I blame her for the emotional display she performed. I was glad even, that she had taken on the burden of standing so near to our fallen friend, lest I begin to feel awkward for my decidedly distant approach. With a violet gaze touching upon the canine that waited just on the cusp of the shadows, I nodded in agreement to Smoke's words, before offering my own with quiet assurance.

    "I am glad you are here. She will need help to return to her home, when the time comes."

    [ ooc :: Sorry for the wait love!
    @[Africa] ]
    credits

    Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
    Deceased
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
    Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
    #12
    Look down, the ground below is crumbling
    Look up, the stars are all exploding

    There was a flurry of air; whirling mist, and rapid movement,

    Quite unexpectedly a fourth mare burst through the grove of old trees which had harboured the unsettled group through the chill of night. Africa’s heart lurched with surprise as the winged creature leapt towards her, an illusory blend of Cirrus’s young, worried expression and that of a horned predator pouncing, flashing through peeled open eyes. "Africa!" The mare’s voice flew ahead, scattered with confusion as it fell across startled, pricked ears. With barely a moment to blink, the light touch of rustling feathers had curved inflexibly over the dip of her mottled back; softly tender lips explored the dejected droop her nape, and still more delicately they brushed away the stream of warm tears which had saturated her drawn, lowered face.

    Africa did not immediately recoil from the gentle touch perhaps dumbstruck and confused herself. Through the narrowed eye which Cirrus’s muzzle fussed beside, the broken mare struggled to piece together the buried, lost history and her identity amid it. There was a clash of sand-dust and wilderness strewn about her- Africa could only guess that they shared the desert, as home. Whether unintentional or marred with some form of guilt fuelled deliberation, her damaged mind could not climb through the flimsy amnesia which hovered as a thick, impenetrable fog therein. Pulling only blanks, Africa stepped to the side and out from beneath the caring clutch of the wing, a distorted sort of rue straining through her shy bewilderment. Only that night, far back during late Orangemoon glazed her memory; her journey into the lion’s den by the side of a white herd mate. The desert was where it had all started.

    "What happened?" Cirrus demanded at once, and Africa was secretly glad that the spotlight above her had switched away, even if only for a moment while they summarized the situation. She mused bitterly and in silence, hoping the the mists lapping by her knees might grow hungry and swallow her away.

    Smoke answered first as the dappled mare shrank discreetly, still further from the reach of the group. Silas watched her with a careful, unwavering eye, sensing within his own heart her discomfort as the crowd stewed in seriousness; mulling over what had been, obviously. The snowy unicorn’s smooth, tone followed appropriately, and fear of what condemnation would inevitably result from her arrival home, trembled through Africa’s hunkering frame.

    credits


    @[Cirrus]

    Cirrus Posts: 233
    Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
    Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 8 HP: 69 | Buff: SWIFT
    Whit
    #13
    Many things occurred, most of which I am sure went unnoticed by my beloved. But I watched, from my position on the cusp of the shadows and this misty abode, I saw it all. I watched as the grey one recoiled from my beloved's touch, as my little cloud's attention was taken by the words of the others, as all the attention seemed to focus upon getting this poor broken mare back to a place she should be thrilled to see again - home - but the mare in question seemed to want nothing more but to disappear altogether. I padded my way softly around the group, before angling myself so that I sat directly in front of her, my cerulean gaze peering up at her with silent questions emanating from them. Why do you run? they seemed to ask, why do you hurt?. They were simple questions, but ones I felt needed to be asked of her, now. It was a shame I had no way of communicating them directly to her - but as I looked to her companion above us, I whined softly, hoping to inspire him to provide more of a supporting buffer to his bonded, just as I did when my own little cloud's father passed away.

    Said little cloud, meanwhile, listened to what the others had to say, barely registering that Africa had placed distance between them, so focused was she on knowing just what had befallen her friend - she had forgotten all about her actual friend. She nodded to those present, before I pressed quite urgently upon her mind, calling for her breezy attention to come back to me, to Africa, to decipher this dark and torturous mystery that tumbled in and about the one-winged grey. With worry upon her brow once more, my beloved moved with a breeze swirling around her, pressing herself between the others until she was standing behind me, facing Africa, once more.

    "Africa, it's okay..." Her voice was soft and apologetic, her maw reaching out again to touch upon the mare's damp cheek. "We'll get you home when you feel proper and ready again. There's no rush. And I'll.. I'll get you your wing back. Somehow." A small frown of concentration had etched itself across her brow, as I felt her thoughts twist and turn along just the path she would take in order to do just what she promised. I loved my beloved and her sense of optimism, but even I could not see how it would be possible. "You will be all right again, Africa, I promise it." The determination leaked into her tones, the stubborn decision settling firmly in her mind. I felt the summons of her soul against my own, urging me to ride upon her back once more, but I did not listen to it - I did not want to leave here just yet. My beloved sighed, as she looked to her company once more. "Thank you." She finally said to them, unsure of how else to repay our allies, our sisters in morals and lore. "I'll be back soon."

    Her words were given to all those present, her electric gaze peering with earnest at Africa, hoping for some kind of reaction, some kind of affirmation that she was still there, somewhere, beneath the many layers of tortured body and soul. I too, searched, reaching out my damp nose to brush it against the pewter muzzle of the broken maiden. As my beloved moved, spreading her generous wingspan and ensuring that she did not clip any of those present, I leaped to her back, and held on with paws and tooth, as the wind filled the space beneath her feathers and lifted her from the ground. We were off, flying mostly east, a goal set in mind with little clue as to how to achieve it known.
    background pattern by Patrick Hoesly @ flickr.com
    as changing as unforgiving as the wind, as bitter and chilling as the cold, as warm and deadly as the heat


  • I enjoy being tagged.


  • please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
    I write what I feel at the time
    and hope everyone else does the same c:



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