the Rift


[PRIVATE] I'll take whatever is left of your heart
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#1

Darkness. Their constant companion, the shadow fallen across world and sky, the black waters rippling in towards a slate gray beach, onyx river under onyx ice, ink sliding down your throat... What had once seemed almost natural, a half-remembered memory of a distant past, had become a burden, something alien, a thing that wore away at him and grated on his nerves. It had been so easy at first, to trust his feet and his nose and his ears, to live with his eyes closed, but with each passing day, the sunrise his memories told him to expect never came. And with each day, a sense of loss settled in his soul, the stale, snow-covered grass turning bitter and brittle in his mouth, and the water tasteless. He was too keenly aware of what it was like to live trapped in a dream, and now he was, yet again, trapped in this nightmare of fate and destiny, or whatever else it was that the Gods did when they were not here to shepherd their realm. Even though he frequently disagreed with what they did, he didn't think they would've just upped and left for no reason at all – somehow, he didn't think them cruel enough to just decide to leave, nor vain enough to leave only for the mortals to grovel and beg for their return.

But perhaps it was just him growing soft again. Perhaps they truly did have hearts of ice, and deserved the title he wore more than he did.

Because he certainly had a heart.
For better or for worse, as with all things.

Again, memory guided him, frosted hooves shuffling over rocks, searching for purchase, the steady, beaten path off the mainland. He knew that the cold lava lying like the ocean by the shore would be blue, but not as blue as the water lapping against it. He knew that his own nose was dark, felt the shifts in the ground as his whiskers danced across the stones to guide him, and he knew that his own body was white, but he could not see it anymore. The memory of color and light was distant, like a lost childhood dream, and he was just the fool clinging to the dashed hopes, things that were better left alone. Why piece it together, when surely it would break again? Mired in the darkness, he felt as if he was losing his grip on the world, his grip on himself, on sanity – like a hungry man whose hunger could never be sated no matter how much he ate, whose thirst could never be slaked no matter how much he drank. Thinking of bright, vibrant colors, the sunlight glitter off the lake or the northern lights dancing in the sky, the iridescence of a magpie's wings.. it was like longing for something he could not have, driving himself mad with yearning.

So he tried to ignore it. He tried to embrace the darkness, and not miss the light when he left the lantern trees or the distant glow of the Throat's fire pillar. But how could he not miss it? No matter how cold he was, no matter how the world froze over when he breathed upon it, he was a creature of flesh and blood, warmth and life and light. He could any less live without his body that he could without light. His mind kept telling him the sun would rise, but it never did, and the internal clock was just as confused now as it had been at the sudden darkness.

Hooves scuffed over rocks, pebbles clattering off the path and down onto lava and water. It would be so easy in this unfamiliar place, to simply tumble off the edge – break a leg in the darkness, and die a broken man robbed of light, and all other kinds of things he tried not to think about. His muzzle felt raw from tracing the path, progress so slow when he didn't want to risk his life, but finally, there he was, standing where he should've been able to see the shrines bathed in some kind of light, be it sun, stars or moon; but it was dark, aside from the faint, distinctly blue glow of a few flowers clinging to Earth's shrine. They seemed too bright in this darkness, and Mauja's eyes, so unused to any form of focused light, closed against it. He peered at the shrines through his white lashes, and felt Irma grip his shoulder tighter, a comforting squeeze that sunk slightly into his scarred flesh.

And for some reason, he thought that there was hope still; and when he opened his eyes, he realized that the flowers were not alone in their strange glow. Words, runes, letters, imprints, whatever they were, shimmered as they crawled across the surface of all four shrines; Mauja turned his blurred gaze aside, and blinked several times, overwhelmed and struck silent by the sheer force of the emotion they conveyed.

He didn't even remember why he had come here.

[ @[Ophelia] <3 ]
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#2


Was the clock of the world stuck? Did the pendulum cease to swing? Night bore ever onward with no signs of stopping, but she followed the lights. Even in his hatred, she followed his lights, the sun, the brightness and goodness in the world. Ophelia loathed that she felt so aligned with his ways, so in awe of his power, of the purity of white and the glory of the mind that she could not damn his every element and action out of spite. So like a moth to that flame, a slave to the sun, she took her beating and followed path of her hooves to the south. The lamp trees illuminated her way, and she walked confidently through the shadows.

Surely they would have left a message.

The blue lava in the distance churned like a bright, moving light, but the crashing of the ocean below made her heart lurch. She had Tinek show her the way to the land bridge, her cloven hooves hesitantly touching the dusty earth until she reached the rocky island. Ophelia waited for the silver dragon to leap onto her back again before she trotted up the path to the shrines, eager to see what she could find among the wreckage. She let her gait move fluidly, her toes lending her aid as she felt the world around her more palpably than with solid hooves. The glow from the blue lava danced across her white hide and played tricks on her crimson tresses, making them look almost purple.

Tinek chirped, alerting her distracted mind to the presence of another. Ophelia's head lifted sharply on her sloping shoulders and two, pale ears tipped forward. The smell of the veins was overpowering, and she could not make out the stranger's personage. Were this individual of ill intent, she would be easy prey to shove over the edge of the cliffs to her death on the rocky oceans below, but that did not seem to deter her at all. Instead, she let out a soft, gentle call and made the final leap up onto the ledge of the shrines only to see Mauja. How had he fared in the darkness? She had run away after watching the destruction of the world in the meadow, having to make sure Roskuld and Mesec were safe and sound.

Blue flowers glowed over the stone of the shrine, leaving runes that she read with her soul and not her mind. Those words gave her hope. The gods would return, and this night would finally slip into the horizon once more. She swallowed hard, letting Tinek feel the words as she did, and the dragon exhaled a roar of triumph. Ophelia then turned to her friend, the King, and she smiled at him softly. "There is hope," she said, her voice filled with brightness once again. "Are you and yours all right in this night?" she asked kindly. Perhaps her behavior was awkward. She was unsure of how to act when the last time she had seen him she had hid her face in his snowy pelt.

Was there a glass of emotion on his blue eyes? She furrowed her brows, trying to ignore the nagging depressive thoughts that clouded her mind and focus on another.



Image by Yumpy @ DA




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every 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
#3

Clatter. Hooves scuffling over a broken path, pebbles dancing lightly to the beat of her step. Every noise was amplified, both by the silence of the world and the slowly gained sensitivity of his hearing – and all his nerves pulled taut. Frosted hooves danced lightly across the hard surface, spinning to face an unknown threat. Irma was already in the air, trying to make out who it was, but the dim blue glow was hardly enough to see by, not even for an owl. Still, as she spiraled above, she knew that it was only one approaching, and the chirp its companion gave was almost familiar, teasing some old, hidden memory...

Mauja knew better. Somehow, his mind repeated the familiar rhythm of her footfalls, playing Tinek's sounds in his mind, and this time, the pounding of his heart wasn't fear, or that constricting, choking sense of devotion. No, this was something else, fleet-footed and elated, too light to belong in his icy chest. His soul was supposed to be a snowy, desolate landscape, his emotions as frozen and solid as the glaciers, his heart like cold marble, but for all of that, it was blood, and not ice, thudding through his veins.

Sometimes, it is so easy to despair. To want to forget, to become something else.
The doubts of this entire world are wearing me down.


She heaved herself across the ledge, slender and graceful, always so much beautifuler than his memories of her. Only life, breath and blood, could do her justice, but all of those half-realized truth he buried beneath the snowdrifts. He was stealing moments from a life he had no right to, trying to fit into a skin he would have to abandon, and whenever he asked himself why he kept going, he couldn't find an answer. Each time he resolved to stop this torn identity from taking shape, it washed away when he came near her. He had a vague word for it, but the less he thought of it, the less he acknowledged it, the easier the future would be to bear.

Blue eyes trail a blue-tinged dragon.
Blue eyes trail a perfect, spiral horn.

Perhaps she had a place in his future, but she had no place in the future of many others.

Briefly, her eyes were on him, and he felt himself shift ever so slightly; his neck tugged upwards, head dipping down as he breathed in her scent. It truly was her, but her silent attention slid from him to the runes – but his stayed on her, gently tracing the lines of her body, seeking for flaws and finding none. It seemed nothing had come out of the darkness nipping at her heels, for which he was glad; but then Tinek gave a sudden roar, and Mauja flinched. For a moment he remembered a snippet of a dream, Psyche and him running side by side, crashing through the lines of an army.. coming closer to the inevitable conflict, the conflict he lived with every day, until he turned to look over his shoulder, only to see silver jaws consumed by fire.

Despite his body screaming with too many memories of burning pain, nothing came to touch him, only the incessant silence of the world. It lapped against him, a cold comfort, and Ophelia's voice was all the sun he needed. Damn, since when did I become such a fool?

Since the world threatened to take her away? Trying to teach him to follow his own advice, and care for the things he had, before it was too late? To learn what really mattered, and what didn't matter?

Problem was, he had no idea.

"We are," he rumbled through the darkness, watching the subtle wind-shift of blue across her white body. They both soaked it up, like canvas desperate for paint – it seemed that only the dead of winter, when it was full of snow and trees, was interested in shielding him. "Mostly, at least," he added as an afterthought, remembering Roland, and how it had seemed he needed some kind of affirmation, something to hold onto in the black. Slowly, Mauja drew a step forward, and Irma came down again. Wind rushed across his back before she settled, gently gripping his withers with taloned feet. "And you?" Because it could not be said that he cared terribly much for the Foothills, so he asked only of her, breathless in the darkness as he yearned to hear she was alright (or maybe it would be better if she wasn't, so he could hold her again).
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#4



Ophelia noticed from the corner of her eye the way he arched his proud neck to smell her, and she did not blame him for doing so. How could he be sure, in this madness, that this body was actually inhabited by the one he knew by the name 'Ophelia'. Without the gods, there was such chaos, much more than she had ever expected. Where she was born, the gods were much more subtle, quiet and hidden in the corners of the world. What made these gods desire such a close relationship? Were they related? So many questions...

What if the gods had just built this world poorly, so that it could not sustain itself? Either way, the place was beautiful. Even the glorious roll of the Tides could not compare to the cascading kingdom in the north, the auroras brightening the sky on the large, white planes of snow and ice. She had disappeared into those mountains once before, and she still had not learned all of their secrets. Perhaps it was time to once again exile herself between the white spires and cold snow.

Tinek took to the sky, and the loud crash of waves against the side of the rock tumbled into her ears. The dragon was gone, for now, leaving the two alone, except for his rather interesting comments in her head. She found it comforting to know his every though. He had caught a fish and was immensely pleased, and she smiled despite herself.

She nodded, comforted that his were safe and sound in their castle of ice, and she frowned slightly when he asked about her home. Irma landed softly on his back, and she looked over the bird's fluffy, pretty feathers, welcoming the brief distraction. "Roskuld and Mesec are safe," she replied. "I met with a few others, but I did not stay long." Ophelia turned her head down slightly. "I have not spent much time among my own," she admitted guiltily. "My heart weights heavy when I think of my family of Grey, and those thoughts weigh even heavier when I realize that my family should not plague my heart with pain."

A small smile crossed her lips. "With the exception of Roskuld and Mesec. I love both of them more than I thought I was capable," she murmured, looking up at him as he came closer. The bright expression was still lightly painted across her pale features. "Your heart looks heavy, from the outside," she commented, leaning forward to, hopefully, softly press her muzzle against the arch of his neck. Ophelia did not ask questions. She did not pry. Looking into his mind was not an option; he was a close and dear friend (friend?), and she would respect his privacy. For all of her faults, the Forsaken was accepting, willing to listen and not pass judgments. Perhaps, one day, that would be her redemption.



Image by Yumpy @ DA




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!


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