the Rift


[PRIVATE] White light burning bright

Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan
#1
@[Ophelia]
Cursive Fonts


The darkness was growing tedious. Too much shadow-night-blackness had a way of wearing down the senses, dulling the sharpness of the mind and making ones life-existence-flame burn low. It had a detrimental effect on the stallion that grazed in the clearing below, hungrily ripping away at dying grasses laid bare after hours of scraping at snow and ice. His temper had always leaned towards the brooding side, and the absence of gods-brilliant-shining-sun-star wasn't improving that particular trait. Spending time with the glittering-gold-backed Silver wasn't as pleasant as it ought to be, and she longed for the company of someone like minded, someone who understood the recent turn of events better than the four-legs.

White-taloned feet clutched tighter around the branch for a moment as delicate wings slowly unfurled from scaled sides, and with a release of powerful thigh muscles the dragoness launched up into the abysmal void that was the air and began to beat the leathered appendages hard. It took more effort to remain in the air nowadays. Not only had the fire in her gut gone out and prevented the use of heated breath to aid the climb into the heavens, the lack of winds had turned the air stale and thin. It was unnatural, something that made her scales rise and fall as though they were becoming tainted with something oily and repulsive - but what choice did she have? No amount of darkness could keep Fajira the White grounded like a wingless rat, not when flying was the reason she remained sane and strong enough to support her beloved Silver.

Rising through the inky skies she worked her way up in level with the canopies and began to circle her way over the Grove, moving in loose spirals away from the glen where Lace struggled to quench the hunger that gnawed at his guts. Half enjoying the silence of the night, half searching for something to entertain her intelligent mind, the white-lady-of-dawn-and-moon cut off her senses from his, only keeping enough contact so that she'd know if something happened to him. It was better this way. They both needed times to themselves, and Fajira quite enjoyed the sensation of independence it gave her to fly off on her own for a bit.

Now, were there any other dragons around? It was long overdue for a conversation with one of her own kin, and as she opened the sharp-toothed jaws and issued a warbling call that echoed across the region she couldn't help a tickling feeling of anticipation from forming in the belly. Who would answer? Would there be an answer?

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♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
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