S k e l l s
When you, soldiers, are called into battle, and the odds are grim and there is no hope, do not run. You will only die tired.
Solitary travel was nothing to be jovial about. It consisted of only himself, and the antagonizing company of his own thoughts, which him the male travel rather aimlessly across vast Helovian lands. It seemed as though the earth changed beneath his dark hooves, morphing from lush clover to now parched sands. He lifted his head, his ebon forelock tossing gently in the hot wind, and silvery pupils scrutinized the acres. It was dry. Barren. Sick with dehydration, except for a body of gleaming water that he first thought was a mirage.
His jet black barrel expanded with a great breath as he inhaled. The air tasted parched. Despite the arid territory, Skells continued forth, thrusting his knobby forelegs forward as he walked alone. On the horizon, bathed in the milky glow of the moon, the Pegasus could make out tall silhouettes - palm trees. He'd never seen such vegetation before, so he allowed a quiet nicker of curiosity to escape from his chest. With ears pricked upward, the stallion kept a slow pace toward them, the moonlight playing on his white-bald face. Not many measurements from where he'd met the sand, the creature's hooves met the earth with a benign splash. In surprise, he let out a jolting whinny and rose onto his hind legs, unsure of why he'd stumbled into the shallow end of the lake. But there was no harm. Caught off guard, caught off guard. The brute thought to himself, rolling his eyes back into place so that the whites where no longer exposed. Instead of shying away from the lapping edge, he followed it, scorning himself. One day I'm going to spook at even the gentlest of moths.
And so he traveled, searching for nothing in particular, following the gentle call of the wind-tossed sand beneath his foot. Aromas of arid earth and thirsty shrubs clogged his throat, which was already feeling discomforted, and made him snort. What kind of place was this? Were there others like him that had wandered here? He hoped that they were not yellowed skeletons by now - as it seemed there was little here to support a healthy lifestyle. Africa was right, Helovia is worth exploring. Even the driest of homelands, might I say. But he grew weary of being along in his travels, and soon hesitated from ambling across the barren countryside. Exhausted, he whipped his ebon tail across his flank, keeping his orbs set on his surroundings. For all he knew, there might be predators lurking nearby. Now frightened by his own thoughts, he let out a nicker of anxiety.
"Hello?"
433 words.
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Table by Frostie <3
| Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14.1hh :: six (ages in Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Ettore :: Red-Tailed Hawk :: None
Abba |
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give me your eyes for just one second,
give me your eyes so i can see
everything that i keep missing
They were being invaded. She couldn't believe that they were being invaded. She had been put in charge of watching the young ones - or, at least, she had put herself in charge of the young ones. The other informant, she believed her name was Shadow, had gone head first into the throws of battle. Rasta could fight, yes, but she didn't understand how this magic worked, and if she ended up with another winged creature she would probably be more of a hindrance than anything else.
So, when she felt someone who seemed anxious and worried about everything she only shuffled her feet and gave out a snort. Nicker of anxiety, and a hello. He seemed older, but exhausted. Not in a state to fight. So, pulling out a little bit she called out to him, "Gods help your soul if you attack. This way, and please state your purpose," She called out to him, shifting her weight and standing a little taller as she took in the pegasus that stood about ten feet before her.
She was not in the mood for games. She was not in the mood for insanity. She was not in the mood for anything then pushing these horned creatures out of her new home. Cautiously, she ushered him away from where the heat of battle was, careful to keep an 'eye' on the children as she awaited a response before realizing that she also required a name. "And your name, sir. I am Rasta." Her maw was held in a stern line as her blind gaze danced from place to place upon him -staring past him. And please keep in mind - I will not hesitate to snap your wings in two if you think about harming my family here...
303 words
@[Skells]
Sorry it's so short. And, sorry that Rasta's a little hostile. XD She's on edge
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S k e l l s
When you, soldiers, are called into battle, and the odds are grim and there is no hope, do not run. You will only die tired.
Just as abruptly as he'd heard the clamor of hooves moving his way, a distressed yet firm sound voiced out to him, and he swiveled his pointed receptors forth, clearly startled by the sudden approach. But once he realized the owner of the voice, a mare bathed in alabaster flesh, the feeling of fright soon vanished down his spine. He straightened himself up, keeping his head held high, and he looked her in the eye, her bright iris' somewhat captivating as she spoke through a whiskered maw. Gods help your soul if you attack. This way, and please state your business. Obediently, the ebon male slowly began to bring himself towards the female, thrusting each white sock ahead of him until he'd achieved the distance between them, and he could smell her breath. Something was wrong. The shiver returned, and he studied her bright eyes. They were distressed, yes. Something was wrong. He inwardly wondered if his coming had severed her from something more important, so he wasted no time in telling her his intentions.
"I will not harm you," he began carefully, keeping his silver twined pupils on her spotless frame. He soon heard her name. "Rasta. I am Skells, an Outcast of the Helovian society. I am looking for homelands, perhaps you could take me in? I will earn my keep in due time." He shifted his weight, and the red sand beneath his hooves felt irritable, as if it were chafing away the material in his foot. Even so, he kept his discomforts to himself, as they were of lesser importance to his current situation. He would have like to stretch out his wings; they were sore from being constantly folded against his heaving ribcage, but he didn't want to somehow alarm Rasta. She seemed to worry of something, and he felt as though releasing his full wingspan would only provoke worse matters. Maybe she'd think he was attacking. She did say something about that.
328 words.
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Table by Frostie <3
| Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14.1hh :: six (ages in Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Ettore :: Red-Tailed Hawk :: None
Abba |
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give me your eyes for just one second,
give me your eyes so i can see
everything that i keep missing
With the sound of her voice the stag seemed to straighten himself. Good. Manners were included, hopefully. Her words were harsh, concerned, but they were also polite. He moved forward, seeming to take her in. The vibrations wrapping around him pulling to call toward his distress at the fact that she was distressed. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't know what. Good. If he was as distressed as she then she supposed he was not going to be attacking them anytime soon.
He will not harm me. He was careful with his words, watching her. Her hawk marking glowing vibrantly in the darkness, as a beacon, but that was all. Skells. An outcast. She quickly stored the information away in her cranium, continuing to listen to the vibrations of the young ones as she listened to the rest of his conversation. Looking for a home. Earning his keep? His frame shifted, placing his weight on a different side of his frame. His wings were trembling, as if in pain from being stuck near his side. But he awaited her response. He awaited to know what was going on.
With a gentle snort Rasta only bobbed her head very slightly in response before allowing all of her thoughts to meld together. "Skells, you may be earning your keep earlier than expected. We have an invasion going on - those trying to take over our land, and our sister's land. But, before you do anything you must understand we may very well be outcasted - meaning you would be in the same position as before." Rasta's voice was silken, still laced with stress. Her muscles ached to churn and fight to help defend her land. Her heart ached to protect those she knew. Her mind knew she needed to gather what information she could and protect the young ones before her.
313 words
@[Skells]
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S k e l l s
When you, soldiers, are called into battle, and the odds are grim and there is no hope, do not run. You will only die tired.
An invasion. The bothered female's uncertainty was now understandable, and the melanoid creature ran his silver pupils over her, seeing her muscles tremble and tense, as if she were going to combust beneath her stress. Sensing her sheer fear, Skells felt a pang of pity for the female. Clearly, she wanted to protect her homeland. Instead, she was here, mildly with him. Guilt soon flooded him, but it evaporated as Rasta's voice carried through the darkness again. "Skells, you may be earning your keep earlier than expected. We have an invasion going on - those trying to take over our land, and our sister's land. But, before you do anything you must understand we may very well be outcasted - meaning you would be in the same position as before." He allowed a breath to blow from his quivering nostrils, and carefully resituated his hooves beneath him before a reply. "I am sorry for holding you back, ma'am. If you must flee, go on." He nodded gently, but inwardly he didn't want to be left alone again. The feeling was forlorn.
It ached him to see a mare so fretful. The jet Pegasus was one of manner and respect, and to watch any equine be tormented by their own thoughts was heart sickening. Carefully, he moved his bald-white face towards Rasta, and gently brought it to hers, as if to comfort the mare for just bit before he pulled it away. "I can come with you, and help you." He was almost urgent now. He wanted to prove something to those of Dragon's Throat - prove he had a place here. He could fight for them, with them.
278 words.
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Table by Frostie <3
| Hidden Account atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14.1hh :: six (ages in Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Ettore :: Red-Tailed Hawk :: None
Abba |
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give me your eyes for just one second,
give me your eyes so i can see
everything that i keep missing
Tense. Uncertainty. She should calm down. But could she really? Her mind kept switching back toward the foals a few feet back. He could tell she was stressed - it seemed to be rubbing off on him. He was watching her, studying her - but she was doing the same. And as soon as she explained what was happening something on his face changed. Something that seemed to signal guilt.
She spoke. She explained. She shifted her weight. She tried to keep her nerves under control. He let out a breath through his nostrils before speaking of holding her back. She shook her head, giving her a tiny nod. "I am not fleeing, sir. But, come in a little deeper. I don't wish to be too far away from the foals." She said, stepping closer to the group of foals that were in their land - that had come for protection only to be back in the throws of a battle. He moved closer, his face gently touching up against hers, as if to comfort her. But, nothing would comfort her unless it was her snapping a horn in two or the beasts who were invading returning to where they had come from.
He can come with. He can help. Urgency flooded his voice. It was as if the drive to protect his land as well had come into his system. Gently, she let out a sigh. "I don't need protection - but if you can try and hold people back from the foals that would be lovely, sir. Also, if you could tell me how many you saw trying to come in. Perhaps I could send out a message for more warriors. Thank you, sir. Thank you. But I still stand by in that if you try anything against us, I will personally be the one to show you why you shouldn't have tried it..." She said, grateful he was willing to help, but still a little hesitant. She didn't know him. But if he was willing to aid them, then she would not let the opportunity go. Grab the information she needed and protect the foals. That was all she cared to do. And he had offered, she would accept.
"Welcome to the war-plagued Throat."
"blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah"
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Image Credits
S k e l l s
When you, soldiers, are called into battle, and the odds are grim and there is no hope, do not run. You will only die tired.
Hot wind blew around his alabaster ankles in lazy bursts, furling up with it the red sand that adorned the seemingly war-plagued land. He would have never guessed. When he'd arrived, all was quiet. The moon shone lazily on the Dragon's Throat, and he'd heard none of the distant war cries nor the gnashing of teeth. But now, he was made aware of the battles that raged just distances from where he stood now, and the thought of such violence sent a shiver down his spine and in his flanks. Rasta informed him of the foals, of whom needed to be guarded from danger, and he quickly wrenched the muscles in his neck to nod. "Of course, Rasta. They will be safe with me." He would guard them with his life, of course. This was going to be his new home. While his heart leapt inside at the thought, his outer frame stood still. There was no time for giddiness, especially now. He needed to be with the young ones.
The zephyr pulled and tampered with Skells' jet black tassels, tangling them together as they danced in the wind, knotting themselves as if they were playing lazily in the breeze. His tail swayed too, to the rhythmic melody of the wind. Even his lobes were animated, flickering constantly in the moonlight, as if he were listening for the sounds of the battle. Perhaps it was moving closer to them, and he'd really have to fend the enemies from the young ones. The though created another shiver, which tingled through his legs and hooves. How would he manage to fight anything off? He was still so diminished from his travels. But nevertheless, he would do anything for the next generation of his homeland.
With a nicker, he moved closer to the foals, keeping his head low so that he didn't startle them. From his nostrils a gentle sigh blew, and he called out to them. "Don't be alarmed, I'm here to protect you." Carefully, he looked back at Rasta. Was he doing this right? He was never good with the young ones. Pricking his ears towards her for a moment, he dragged his metallic gaze back to the foals. Gods, I do hope I'm not scaring the little things... He reached them, achieving the short distance from where he stood, and he turned his skull back to the alabaster female, as if waiting to be told he was okay to approach them. He knew how protective some horses could be of the youth, so he didn't want to provoke anything unnecessary.
430 words.
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Table by Frostie <3
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