| World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Bunnie |
D R A G O M I R
just pretend that you want me & be my baby, be my baby
It was the oddest occurrence he'd ever experienced in his short life, even including that band of travelling pegasi he'd met some several hundred miles back - the sun had set in the middle of the afternoon, no sooner than he'd laid eyes on the forest which he had been seeking out since he had met with the winged creatures, who had pointed him in this direction and promised civilization. His large hooves beat upon the earth in a solid tempo, the large painted stallion making no motions as to quiet his steps despite the ominous darkness that lingered over this area of country side. It crossed his mind as he reached the perimeter of the wood to turn back, remembering the tales of the shadow creatures that had swallowed Isilme whole that his mother had shared with him, his pale blue gaze searching the shadowy path of that led into the kingdom called Helovia with some curiosity as to whether or not the pegasi had sent him here in the hopes he would be devoured by whatever beasties had claimed the land as theirs. But as he breathed in a deep lungful of air, he found the breeze to be heavily scented with the odors of equine and a clean smell he believed to belong to a unicorn, as well as the strange feathery odor of pegasus. It seemed improbable that there would still be so much life in a place that was being savaged by any sort of disaster, and so he tentatively made his first steps into the wood, choosing now to move with a quiet grace that he had learned from his early life playing with young dragons on the isle his parents made their abode.
After walking through the wood for about a hundred yards, a bright bauble of light caught his gaze, the white marked bay carrying himself towards the glowing orb. When he arrived, his eyes were caused upward with mild amusement to find that the light hung from a tree alongside a cleared path, a trail of them leading off deeper into the forest and, he assumed, the eventual kingdom itself. The grey bark of the oak was weathered and ancient, he noticed, the bare branches covered in a thin veneer of frost the glistened in the pale glow emanating from the lamp, and while snow lay in drifts along the earth left exposed to the sky everywhere his eyes could land the path remained worn clean, either by magic or a constant traffic. He heard no one near by, but he could assume nothing from such simple observations, knowing that there were those so silent upon their hooves that they were more shadows than living beings, and the heavy smell of others upon the wind made it hard to pinpoint where more individuals aside from himself may be lingering in the darkened forest.
He drew then a conclusion that he would remain here, under this old tree, it's roots plunging deep into the soil, his eyes admiring the fine craftsmanship of nature and the bounty of Aarde's strength, streams of misty breath billowing from his nostrils upon every exhalation. The young stallion thanked the Gods for his thick coat, grown in over his months of wandering in search for his true purpose, if not simply a place where he might belong.
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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
Mirage the DragonHeart Posts: 414
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: Eighteen HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Akaith :: Royal Golden Dragon :: Fire Breath
Whit |
Darkness.
Had the moon been high in the sky, illuminating the world below, Mirage would have felt like she was transformed back to her old roots, her land of eternal midnight, where one did not track the motion of time by the rising and setting of the Sun, but rather, by the rise and fall of only the Moon. This, however, was different, and all the more unsettling because of that difference. The mare found what comfort she could in the lack of magic, without her illusionary cloak to cling to her hide, she reverted to practices of old, roaming the shadows like a shadow herself, masking the sound of her footprints with careful placement on soft ground. It was fortunate that she knew these tracks reasonably well - and being born in a land where only night illuminated the sky, her eyes were naturally prone to being more sensitive than others in times of weak light.
Above her, a golden dragon flew. Though the WeyrLeader was troubled with the terrorism haunting her herd, she needed to do something. Movement, exploration; restlessness had taken hold of her, and she was not about to leave Helovia altogether - no, but she had to get out, to explore, to stretch her legs and run for miles in the darkness, her dragon as her guide.
The forest surrounding them was one she recognised, one that she had visited many times before, though perhaps not as recently or frequently as she should have. Life had kept her from the borderlands of the realm, she did not often find herself able to get to the Threshold, to guide potential newcomers to her home, to present a welcoming front to those who proved themselves worthy of such treatment. She was well aware of the potential tensions that might run high in these strange times, and even if she had been able to, she would not use her magic this day. A scent, equine and male, seemed to float by her senses; ears pricked as her tiara turned in the direction she thought it came from, confirmed as Akaith flew higher and extended her range of sight.
Pale against dark, the sparse splotches upon the hide of the stallion were recognised slightly off the beaten track. The little shadowmare slowed her pace, turning her bodice towards the steed, tiara tilted so that her nape was arched into a shallow, but respectful nonetheless, nod of acknowledgement. Akaith filtered down from above, landing lightly upon the back of her beloved, crooning a soft song as she did so.
"Greetings, stallion, and welcome to Helovia." |
background pattern by webstreats @ flickr.com
| World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Bunnie |
D R A G O M I R
just pretend that you want me & be my baby, be my baby
If he only knew the power that came down the bauble strewn path, he might have grown anxious in waiting, the black mare that revealed herself upon the trail simply creating sensations of admiration in the young stallion. She was beautiful and proud, the delicate arch of her neck speaking volumes of her self-worth, and Dragomir found himself relating her posture to that of his mother, a woman who had once been queen of her people. He ran his pale blue gaze across the ebony pelt of the stranger, wondering if she too was a leader among the residents of Helovia, just as the stunning gold dragon alighted upon her shoulders. The chirp issued from her dangerous maw was friendly and musical, the stallion's ears perking up at the noise and a smile finding a place upon his face despite himself. His mother's Israfel was large, a bronze beast with scales that seemed to burn as he moved in the sun, and his father's green was large for her variety, but this golden drake was by far the larger of the bonded dragons he had ever encountered, and also spectacularly beautiful. The pair made quite a fitting duo, he mused, the ebony minx's pelt in stark contrast to the glimmering yellow hues of her eyes and the vibrant scales of her bonded, and he was glad to find that he already felt comfortable in this one's presence, unlike he had with his encounters with the vagrant pegasi or the various other equinites he had happened upon in his travels. While it very well may have simply been the presence of the dragon, the quiet strength with which she carried herself resonated deeply within the tri-hued horse, having been raised by parents who were both of a stoic nature and, by course of nature, gave birth to a son who was also rather aloof in his mannerisms. It was possible that he was even more isolated within himself than either of his folks, however, as he had never been made to deal with a standard herd situation, something that made him itch with anticipation but also drew worries to the surface, many involving his abilities to function in a large group but also general concerns within the young male as to whether or not he even had anything to offer them.
The head of the charcoal hued mare bobbed in neat unison with the song of her dragon, speaking volumes of the strength of the bond between a horse and her drake, and for maybe the thousandth time in Dragomir's two years of life he felt the thrill of the unknown but desperately desired burn through him. He remembered the first instance of the strength of the bond he had experienced in his life, when Israfel had caught the scent of a stranger on the borders of the Isle, some ten to twenty miles away from where his mother and father had been teaching him old lore of their people, and how enraptured he had been to witness the connection at play as the thoughts instantaneously traveled between the bronze dragon and his mother, that the pair could share images and emotions across vast distances as easily as he could speak. His blue eyes met those of the dragon draped upon the black mare's back with a glimmer of respect, knowing that it was liable the wyvern had first spotted him here beneath his tree. From what he had learned of the scaled beasts in his youth, they were always eager to please, even the wild dragons that prowled the jungle-like forests of their island (though not so much as the bonded pair of his parents), and always seemed to be full of a bright energy even when they were poised perfectly still. It was pleasant, he realized as he looked upon the pair, to encounter others so similar to his family, and while it was a dubious prospect that this mare had known any of his kin, she reminded him of those he had left behind so deeply that it brought melancholy up to the surface of Dragomir's stirring collection of emotions, and not for the first or last time, he wondered how his parents fared back upon their Isle.
He returned her polite nod of the head with a bit more flourish after her greeting than she had given with her own minute bow, his light tan muzzle sweeping down to brush the soft velveteen end upon his chest, his thick mane sweeping forwards in the motion before spraying back as his head rose once more. It was simply within his nature to be overly courteous to females, his chivalry much deeper than many who wandered the face of the earth, and while his kindness towards the gentler chromosomal set had never been tested by the boundaries of bloodline, he found that he was quite good at being polite to equine mares, elders, and children. In this particular case, not only was this stranger a woman as well as his elder, but she seemed to be of great importance due to the carriage of her well built frame as well as the color of her bonded, Dragomir knowing enough of dragon lore to understand that the gold was considered the most elite of the wyvern breeds, and so in pairing with his soft heart for the softly curved ladies, respect had found its way into his carriage about her. Even if she had done nothing more to earn it other than arriving upon this path with a golden dragon, Dragomir felt that was ample reason enough to watch his actions about her. "Thank you, m'lady," he said, his voice deep and rich like the darkest bands of wood upon an ancient and well lacquered chest, a voice that he was aware was rather robust for a fledgling stallion, but that was also beautiful and almost morose in it's tones, no matter the mood of the painted stag. So the pegasi did not lie to me, he mused, wondering if it had been dark here when they had left or if it was a new occurrence, but remaining silent on such matters for the time being; it made little sense to instill fear of your new abode within moments of arriving, the stag desiring more reasons to stay than leave at this particular moment, weary of travel and also anxious to begin his new life. He felt mildly uncomfortable now that he had spoken, however, not sure if it was enough but not really desiring to say more, either. His pale gaze searched the older and rather pretty mask of the black mare, the stallion feeling desperately overwhelmed by his underwhelming social skills, one ear falling back into a tilt as he decided upon a final quip to add in. "I am Dragomir, son of Adalwulf and Requiem."
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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
Mirage the DragonHeart Posts: 414
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: Eighteen HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Akaith :: Royal Golden Dragon :: Fire Breath
Whit |
Moments passed, and many an observation was made. From the sparsely coated splotches of ivory through to the musculature beneath, she was able to hazard a guess at the age of the vibrant young steed, as well as his general knowledge of dragons and even perhaps, his expectations of Helovia. He did not seemed surprised to see Akaith, at least, not in the same respects that she had seen others respond to the golden dragon - and he seemed to assess and reassess his manners towards the shadow mare herself, which caused a mental smirk to be shared between dragon and bonded. But he was respectful, and wiling enough, it seemed, to prove that he was worth her attention. Golden eyes from both dragon and equine viewed his gesture of a flourished nod, approving of it, for it was a custom from their lands of old, their birthlands, that they had carried with them throughout life, and only occasionally had others know and reciprocate it. Such a simple notion - a bow, an acknowledgement - that carried so much weight. As she heard the names of not only himself, but his lineage, she had to wonder at her luck in crossing paths with him this evidently fateful evening.
The name which labelled him was draconic in its essence, and the mare was educated enough in dragonlore to know that with his parents having both bonded, it was surely only a matter of time before he found his lifemate as well. Dragomir, she repeated to herself, knowing that her mate would enjoy meeting him without even knowing much more about him. Requiem resonated within her as well, as she reflected on her times in Isilme, a gathering of those who were bonded with dragons - there were a great many there, and Akaith was better than she at remembering all who came. Bronze. She spoke with assured certainty, just as Mirage noted that the gold would have been but a hatchling at the time of their meeting. Adalwulf was a name she knew slightly better, having had a small handful of encounters with him indirectly, as well as the constant repetition of his title and his deeds jumping up at her throughout history of the land. Even as she considered it, she wondered whether this stallion held the same ideals as his father, the same supremacist yearnings, the same desire to exterminate all who were different just because of the extra appendages on their body.
She wondered whether she should just walk away from him.
But then, the DragonHeart had been known to offer chances, to seek information, if only for the chance that in the future, that information could prove useful, life-saving, life-changing. "Dragomir, it is a pleasure." Her voice was warmly and smooth, reminiscent of honey and silk, her façade honest as her eyes sought to hold his in a deep and penetrable stare. "I am Mirage, and this is Akaith." With a tilting gesture of her crown, she allowed the queenly dragon to lean her forepaws upon her nape, to stretch her own elongated serpentine out and test the air with a forked, barbed tongue. "What do you seek from Helovia, Dragomir?" The mare was not one to provide information without first receiving it, and so she voiced the query with a gentle pointedness, her gaze unwavering as her interest was conveyed through the subtle curiosity painting her tones. Just what was he doing here? What did he have planned for himself? Was he to enter these lands and attempt to overthrow them, much like his father? Or did he simply want to etch a living out for himself by serving others, or perhaps seeing if he could survive it alone, in the wilds. Either way, the little shadow mare was very interested in this Dragomir. |
background pattern by webstreats @ flickr.com
| World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Bunnie |
D R A G O M I R
just pretend that you want me & be my baby, be my baby
The glint of recognition that lit across the black mare's face was not missed by the painted stallion, as many of her other facial changes and body language would be; he was glad to have been respectful thus far, in this light, as it was his last intention to reflect negatively upon his heritage. He was rather proud of his parents, regardless of their fallen status as keepers of the Dragon Isle, and had been taught from both that his actions resonated upon the reflections of others, not just himself. It crossed his mind as to how the older equine knew his family, and if they were in good terms, but as the expression upon her face did not seem to gain any threatening darkness at their mentions, he felt that it was likely she either cared for them or cared nothing at all, both of which were preferred by young Dragomir over outrage or disdain. There was a moments hesitation in her that he did not understand, letting his pale gaze drift across the fleeting change of expression with the mildest peak in curiosity before he face returned to the same friendly one with which she had first approached.
Her name was Mirage, and the golden drake perched upon her spine was called Akaith. He searched his mind for a time that she had been mentioned in the tales of Isilme, but he couldn't remember a particular time in which she had come up; never the less, their names were stowed away into a special place, remembered always as the first who he would know by name within the kingdom of Helovia. The dragon lounged itself upon her with ever the more leisure as he smiled and gave a nod in reply to her words, her golden limbs angling across the sweep of Mirage's neck, her own slender and scaled throat extending to pry at the air with her snake-like tongue as the mare upon which she sat spoke once more.
It was a question, to which Dragomir's ears became all the more alert and small lines furrowed their way into his face as he pondered precisely what it was he had come here for. He knew he sought companionship, perhaps love, but those were general ideals for those who arrived in new places, and he felt that it would be foolish to respond so obviously. There were of course the dragons, but he had more than enough of those to chose from back on the Isle, having witnessed several hatchings in his youth and spotting many more nests on his solo adventures through the jungles. Truly what Dragomir wished of Helovia was a purpose to drive his life, a place to make a name of great honor for himself and his people, to become the instrument of Aarde that, surely, he was meant to become, no matter if the God of his blood had long perished in the fall of Isilme. "I wish to give my life purpose," solemnly stated the tri-hued male, his pale blue eyes searching the yellow glow of Mirage's own for an expression of understanding, a slight hope that through her knowledge of his kin she might gather a fuller image of what exactly he might be looking for than others he may have chanced upon, "through deeds of great honor in the eyes of Aarde and our noble people." Our was said with an inclination towards Mirage, the ebonite woman a shining image of Aarde's children in the youthful opinion of the son of Adalwulf; she was strong, her eyes holding years of wisdom, and upon her back the most prized of all honors peered at him from a divinely crafted reptilian face.
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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
Mirage the DragonHeart Posts: 414
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: Eighteen HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Akaith :: Royal Golden Dragon :: Fire Breath
Whit |
Curious, gentle eyes watched him, drinking him like an alcoholic would swallow a refined scotch with appreciation and unwavering steadfastness. Son of Adalwulf, seemed to echo in her mind, as she considered just what that meant. Had he been raised by the grey stallion? Taught in the ways of supremacy, of world domination? Mirage's own views were equalist - she judged others based on the moral fibre that existed in their hearts - and she did truly hope that 'good' resided in everyone. Life was a balance to her, a delicate ying and yang, a dynamic equilibrium where the scales could be tipped either way at any given moment. There was no space for racism in her heart, her soul, that sought to always keep this balance.
Purpose, he said, and this pleased her, though she guarded herself well to refrain from reacting in any way to his words. It was best now, especially, to let him continue to unravel himself before her, so that she might know whether she could help him - or whether he could indeed help her. Aarde was what she heard next, and she recalled swiftly now, the quest she had helped Gossamer with all those years ago, a task of searching for ingredients to ensure the colt's survival. If she hadn't helped then, what would have become of the demi god Isilme revered so? An internal scoff was had, a silent amusement shared between the bonded pair at the thought of fate, and its many intricate twists and turns. Our noble people was received next, and the emphasis was not lost on the mare - though still, she remained immobile, impassive, thoughtful.
A breath was inhaled, and as it was exhaled, the mare seemed to move with liquid motion. Shadows danced all around her, seemingly unwiling to release her inky form from their hold, as she angled her path to surround the stallion - openly absorbing all that his physique had to offer. Reaching a muzzle out to him, she might have ran her whiskers along his spine, breathing in his scent, letting her own breath cascade over him. Akaith did similar, leaning over her bonded's nape so that she came quite close to him, purring a low song every now and then as she made her own draconic assessment of him. He was built much like how she remembered Adalwulf to be, though he was younger, in body and mind, with the muscles of a traveller already making their mark upon him, giving her an idea of the potential he could become, if allowed.
And what would happen if he did reach that potential? Would he use that body and mind of his to conquer and rule? To exile all those who were her friends yet did not necessarily share the same species genome in their blood? Was that something she was willing to risk?
"Helovia runs at a different pace to Isilme." Her voice broke the silence that followed the cessation of her footsteps, as the mare aimed to stand parallel to this steed, shoulder to shoulder, her tiara tilted gently to better view him. She knew full well that he hadn't mentioned Isilme precisely, but she was more than happy to prove her knowledge to him by demonstrating their potential shared indirect history. "There are four Gods here, each of them taking the form of equine, unicorn and pegasus - at once." Here she paused, and regarded him with a level stare, daring him to react, to criticise, to be disgusted by it all. "The creators of this land do not take kindly to racism." She added in a quieter, but no less serious or significant tone.
"There are those within these lands that call me DragonHeart. There is a land, my home, called the World's Edge, where they call me their WeyrLeader." A weyr is where a dragon lays, Akaith's voice murmured within her, as Mirage flicked a single ear to the little queen that rested upon her nape, before refocussing upon Dragomir. "I judge those around me by what lays in their heart and souls. Not by what adorns their body." The tone she used was simple, matter-of-fact, not accusatory or demeaning - merely explaining how she operated in concise and clear ways. "What lays in your heart, Dragomir?" Here she tilted her tiara more, expressing her genuine curiosity, and perhaps a glimmer of hope behind those golden pools, hope that she had not made a mistake in lingering, in persisting to learn more about this very curious individual. |
background pattern by webstreats @ flickr.com
| World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Bunnie |
D R A G O M I R
just pretend that you want me & be my baby, be my baby
The pair of eyes that ran across his flesh were rather pleasant, Dragomir not used to strangers admiring him in any way; even those travelers who had crossed his path had shown little interest in his demeanor as this mare did, and he found it intriguing. He alleged it may be the difference between a chance encounter and one with purpose, as surely he was being judged at this moment in ways that he could not yet understand or prepare defenses for, his youth and naivety lending him no wisdom in how to present himself in the best light possible. He only knew who he was, and what little social skills he had gained while playing with young dragons and learning of the world from his parents; the twins had not been around much during his life, and so from him he learned how to treat those who were important but rather distant from himself. But this proud mare and her golden bonded were only strangers to Dragomir, no matter that he knew their names and that he found their company pleasant enough, that he respected her for the simple nature of her being that had been presented to him thus far.
When she moved, he watched her as if she were a gem gleaming in a riverbed, her black flesh riveting in the magical glow of the orbs in the branches overhead, and he remained stationary, his pale eyes following her curiously as she made her way along his side. As her hot breath broke the chill of the winter air upon his skin, he felt the pores contract in a most unusual way and a ripple of sensation vibrated across his pelt, pleasant and riveting, the dragon's even hotter breath a note following that of Mirage's exhalations. He wondered what she was looking for, smelling him like this, and if it would be impolite to not smell her back; surely he would not be permitted within her own personal space as she now invaded his, but he found that her appraisal was alluring in a way he had never encountered and rather didn't want to offend her at this moment. He'd never had anyone examine him so closely before, especially not an older woman with such prestige as this, and he found himself standing rather awkwardly and mentally confused by the time all was said and done, the black mare's odor of ash and foliage permeating his nares as her words trailed out alongside him.
The ear nearest her tilted to catch her words, his eyes having never left her as she and Akaith had took in what value they could of his appearance and scent alone. His smile in response to the mentioning of Isilme was still knitted with the remnants of his reaction to her approach to his side, but the words of the Gods that roamed these lands that followed erased the strange grin and replaced it with eyes that were wide and hardened with the strangeness of these words, the already frazzled mind of the painted stallion now firing into overclock. All at once? How was that even possible? If one had a horn or wings, was he not a unicorn or a pegasus? What room was left in that to be proud of the equine, the most noble of the breeds, who held firm their heritage despite their lack of mutated anatomy, when one was a beast who wore both horn and feather? He could have scoffed as she stated the obvious, that these strange beings of time immortal would frown upon those who were proud to be uniquely individual, unlike their creators, but the words were lost in the battle of logic that raged in his young mind, the conflicts between his upbringing and the divines of this land made him question more than he had been planning on today by far.
Her greater calling, DragonHeart, salvaged his conscious from the melee within the back of his mind, when paired with that which her people called her. He let the blasphemy of her earlier words wash away from his face, replaced with a respectful smile as he nodded in honor of her titles. No matter the conditions of the religion of Helovia, he could not deny that it's rulers were worthy of his respect if they were all as this one, even while he doubted that there were any others as traditionally honorable as the lady Mirage and her golden Akaith in a land where the deities wore the markings of all their children, choosing none over the other despite the obvious ways in which they were out weighed by one another. He found Mirage to be much like his mother as she explained her views, a mare who had come from a land inhabited by nothing than equines, a conflict in and of itself that Dragomir had never come to understood; his dam's origins were a part of his finely constructed logic on the superiority of their species, having heard of no other realms where only the horned or the winged resided.
When she asked him what might lay in his heart, however, Dragomir could pull no words to mind with ease, his ears slipping backwards in thought and his lower lip protruding ever in the slightest as his gaze left Mirage's to stare forward down the path. He assumed she meant for him to elaborate upon what he had said earlier, but now that he knew she disagreed with him, he knew also that he would have to wise in his selection of justifications. He was not as his mother, that was for certain, but he was not his father, either; he felt little ill will towards the others, no desire to harm them or create suffering, merely wished to remain seperate from them. In a way, the Gods and Goddesses of Helovia were his greatest fear walking - a point in time when the equine would simply cease to be visible, a ghost within the portrait of a being that was a blended line of the three separate races. His fear, in a way, was just as much for those who were different than he was; he wanted their bloodlines, each unique and individual, to continue as they were, the cultures inspired around their physical attributes to live on for the rest of time, however long that may be.
"In my heart I feel that we are a greater people than the rest," he began, his deep voice resonating in the quiet and darkened wood as he returned his eyes to the golden gaze of the DragonHeart, "and we should honor ourselves through both act and company." She had probably never had the thought of the equine race blending out of existence cross her mind, but she had also not been raised by Adalwulf. He took a breath, planning out the rest of his words thoughtfully, as he attempted to do at all times. Dragomir was not one for wasting breath. "You see no differences, and that is the danger. I desire only to ensure that the equine race never becomes as it is portrayed these Gods of Helovia - unseen."
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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
Mirage the DragonHeart Posts: 414
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 6 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: Eighteen HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Akaith :: Royal Golden Dragon :: Fire Breath
Whit |
It was clear to see, the wave of shock that ran through the stallion at her words, the blasphemy he felt she had committed, the sheer disbelief - or rather, the challenge of his own beliefs. Was it fair, to throw all of this information at a steed who had been raised a certain way for all his life, who had travelled away to find a purpose for himself based on predetermined values, who was still so young and perhaps unable to handle the change of regime this land would force upon him? Probably not, but such was the way of things. Mirage could no more take back her words just as he could not take back the surprise he displayed when first hearing them. At least she knew where she stood with him - at least he was honest with her, though she was unsure as to just how honest he would be capable of being to loved ones who did not necessarily hold the same genetic makeup as she. She wondered at what he would make of hybrids, not just one's like her beloved Aylin, but even like her daughters, and her mate - she could not risk their safety. She saw potential within him, but did she see an ability to adapt, to change, to grow and learn and accept? The DragonHeart could not be sure, and she was not willing to risk the lives of her beloved kin on the ambition of one supremacist equine.
That wasn't to say she wouldn't try, of course.
"We want the same things." The voice that replied was slightly warmer, almost laced with amusement, though not mockingly so. "We long to bring honour to our families. To protect them, to provide for them." Previously she had been looking ahead as she spoke, but now she cast a gentle, good-natured glance upon his own gaze. "When you cross paths with the gods here, for I am certain you will, in some way, should you choose to stay here, you will not doubt the third of equine that each portrays." She spoke with a quiet certainty, an assurance that was given with past experience with most of the Gods of the land first hand. "I see plenty of differences." Once again, the hint of amusement entered her tones s she addressed the accusation he had made of her. "But I choose to see and feel with my soul, not my eyes. Perhaps, one day, you will learn to do the same." Here, the mare moved slightly, stepping forth and turning so that her bodice arced before him. This brought Akaith to the level of his eyes, and the little dragon was eager to lean over her bonded's shoulder and aim a gentle but firm caress of her scaly maw against his brow.
The child named for dragons may have felt a touch from her motion, but the little golden dragon offered much more than that. With her physical touch, she attempted to extend a version of the bond shared between herself and her bondmate to the youthful steed, to see just how sensitive he was to a dragon's true caress - a gentle embracing stroke of the fibres of one's very soul. It had been successful only a handful of times - with Torasin, and Vikram, and those times had been dire and pressing, requiring immediate effort where the little dragon barely thought about what she did before embracing their minds with her own. Here, she was purposefully guarded - and burdened down by the sheer lack of magic that was upon the lands. But still, she made an effort, and without knowing whether it was successful - or even if it was successful and the stallion simply did not recognise what had just occurred - the DragonHeart continued to speak. "I should like to offer you the chance to see if you continue to feel the way you do after spending a season or two in my company." It was an offer she did not make lightly - the mare truly did want him to say yes, she wanted this venture to be successful, she genuinely wanted to help him, to let him grow and reach his potential - but she was wary that in reaching his potential, she might just be allowing him to eradicate those she held dear to her.
[ ooc :: So sorry for the wait <3
Up to you if you want to have him 'feel' Akaith or not. Others in the past have simply described it as 'a foreign sensation upon one's very soul'.. Or the likes C: ] |
background pattern by webstreats @ flickr.com
| World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Bunnie |
D R A G O M I R
just pretend that you want me & be my baby, be my baby
She spoke of honor, of family, the words meshing with the weave of Dragomir's soul completely enough to allow the slight of this mare's company at this World's Edge to wash away, feeling again a connection to the black mare for reasons he could not decipher; it was perhaps that he had been alone too long, homesick and weary, but there was also the chance that Mirage and Akaith were interwoven with his fate in a way that he could not yet glean from such a young age. He knew, though, that the words that followed were true, an inescapable fact of choosing to live within the lands beyond this forest. He began to mull over her assurance that he would see the strength of the earth children in the build of the keepers of Helovia, unable to comprehend what she meant by looking with one's soul and thus choosing to ponder the things he might understand without being forced to walk down that particular trail of life. He didn't notice her step forward, so preoccupied were his thoughts and comfortable his mind around the ebony femme and her bonded dragon, his head alive with the tales of Aarde and the first horses, images of his proud and regal parents surrounded by the dragons of the isle. He felt their honor in every mental glimpse, but when his brain strayed to that of the tri-beings that watched over the land here, he found himself unable to picture the natural and solemn power of his people.
He was brought back to the forest by a smooth caress upon his face, just above his eye, and he found himself enveloped in a warm, rushing sensation, his heart seeming to rise out of his skin in a million pieces, pulling all at once toward the place where his chocolate coat had met the golden scales of Akaith. He felt her heart, fluttering faster than his, deep in the sweep of the temporary bond, and while her emotions were shielded by some strange current, it was similar to when Israfel had come to examine a wound Dragomir had inflicted while climbing a collection of boulders along the beach, about nine months into his life, and so he did not recoil or flinch as the sensations swept through him. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, wondering if it was possible that his strangeness to the dragon had shielded the connection in some way or if the murkiness of the bond was related in some way to the lack of a moon and the mid-afternoon sunset he had encountered on his way here. There wasn't enough time to thoroughly think about it, however, as Mirage's voice continued to draw the attention of his ears; an invitation.
This raised his curiosity to another level, the young stallion having believed his prior words would have made the black mare decide he was not the proper material for her fold of various breeds; she had made it quite clear that her own opinions did not match his own, and that she thought him to be foolish for believing so. Perhaps he was; his mother had always believed that others were only to be judged by their actions, and while she had softened the hard shell of racism that had been baking in the sun around the painted colt from birth, she had not done away with it entirely. "I..." will not go, he wanted to say, but the smiling face of his mother stopped him in his tracks, the remnant hums of the dragon's contact with his skin working in harmony with the mental painting to trap his voice within his throat, an ear falling back in a partial tilt as a tumble of emotions ushered through him. Would he be standing here today if Requiem had not followed her guide home, to the Valley? For some reason, he did not think so, and he certainly had not traveled so many miles to rest under a tree for the rest of his years. "I will accept your offer." The pale light from the orbs spilled across his face as he turned to search the sharp features of the golden dragon, wondering if he was making a mistake or taking his first steps towards his fate by following this one and her ebony mare back to the World's Edge, but took comfort, momentarily, in that he had been offered a home at all, and the sincerity he had felt in the dragon's touch.
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Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
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