Jaws constrict and roll; biting into my blistered, famished gum-line. Scorched deprivation fills my mouth with briny grit; dry thirst is a flaming rod, plunged down my parched esophagus. Every square inch of inflamed meat is seeping. Foamy pectorals and heaving lungs have long become labored with rapid, dizzying pants. Eyelids squint, bracing against that expectant suffering as my bloated waistline begins to choke; contractions are the living ocean beneath my skin. Swollen crests wash in continual, breathless, unfamiliar spurts. Pain fades…but it always returns.Like a bellowing furnace; becoming more severe and insistent. Those irritates began in the early morning hours…a high noon sun now peeks out from behind sparse grey/white clouds. Below us, white flecks catch the sunlight, glittering from their frothy, animated bed. These damp shoulders tingle, but their suffering is slight compared to the crippling spasms centered around my midsection and loins.
-----
“Aroooo!”
Eyelids jerk apart; hazy and unsettled as they emerge into the brisk reality. This frantic, panic-driven heart is cantering…and despite the wintry plunge in temperature, my sensitive points are mottle with cooling excretion. Velvet dials rotate, attentively working to disprove the existence of that dream-scape wail. Morning isn’t very far off, the ebony mistress yields to navy and surrenders her power...though that first hint of amber hasn’t appeared. Strained seconds of passive silence tick on. Mini me distends …eyeing my sharp, pulsing unease with pity, ‘just a dream.’ That dwarfish occupant chimes in as well, comforting me by stirring and pressing those tiny feet against the narrow cage.
Anxious ligaments soften...sluggishly, I pull forward, yawning over the threshold into the cold embrace of another calm morning. ‘Aroooo!’ Ears twitch…that previously mistaken dream howl shatters tranquility with a hard dose of authenticity. Numbed…brackish memories crawl from their graves. Undesired familiarity morphs my expression from lax to horrified. A second voice escalates, joining the first. Their mournful screams reignite dormant terror; red-rimmed eyes are transfixed. Wolves weren’t uncommon…they often preyed in our valley…but these voices weren’t their songs. Another response…edging closer. Hindquarters shiver while the echo of their encircling voices ring in my burning ears. Feathered arms extend halfway, surging anxiously from my clammy waist. A stiff rush of icy air closes in, but does nothing to ease my shock.
‘No…’ a plea, denial of their existence; a cry of utter helplessness.
This…this isn’t real…
Wake up…
Thawing from her frigid state, my subconscious snarls, ‘move!’ She takes a stab at the icy encasement, my naïve cocoon of rebuttal, ‘you can’t stay here!’ I hear her muffled logic…But the flesh is unwilling to heed me, these forelimbs are trapped and trembling. Noah…his name, the hum of it recoils. Noah…what starts as a hum, becomes a crescendo…irises sharpen from their stunned haze. Noah?! Disorientation yields into choking horror. He’d gone off sometime in the night; maybe even beyond the dish-shaped walls of our domain.
‘Crinkle, rustle, scratch...’ Tense muscles jerk, shivering as if cold. The baby nudges me…Maternal adrenaline ignites, unrealized fury drips into these frigid crevices. Ears plant themselves rearward, lips peel apart to brandish ivory teeth. Out comes…a honeyed, splattered face. Tiny bubbles of relief flood that taut surface, easing my aggression. The titan, my eagle. He’s safe…Forefeet leap into motion, closing our distance with jittery, inflated speed. “Noah!” My smoggy, northern breath spares precious seconds to verify his reality. Diving for that heap of silken flesh with hungry resolve. Meanwhile, their voices continue to rise; snarling until every fiber is singing, trembling.
‘There isn’t time!’
Optics tilt, searching to catch his clear blue gaze, “very bad,” those foredooming words send the root of my muzzle gesturing toward the canopy, “we go.” Pastel feathers unfurl, spreading to near full scope, “no time, no fight!” Their voices are close now… a series of excited yips and snarls reach a new height from that wood-side. Twenty feet away, on the left, the cover of our glade is ruptured by a massive, olive eyed fiend. Oversized paws sink cruelly into the forest soil; pausing just beyond the tree line. That demon is pungent and worn -- obviously male -- his caramel, dirt caked body is sloped and bristling. The high curl of his tail is pointed nearly straight up. Predator lips are crimped upward, frothed with hungry looking saliva. Wings flare from his heaving, growling waist
…He…he’s twice the size of what is considered normal.
Beside him, stepping from the ashen, knife-like shadows, a leopard. Her body is a sleek ebony, dappled and feminine. Those triangular, amber eyes are fixed in our direction. Between those grinning, cheshire cat jowls, she holds something in her mouth…irises narrow. A cord? Tracing the end leads me to find its connection upon a loose, tattered grey collar around the shoulders of her frothy canine. She cruelly jerks the end of his rope and that rusty wolf snaps his teeth, snarling in response.. His powerful neck extends, dual nails bite into the earth; those tawny, emotionless eyes settle upon my golden knight.
A tight, piercing howl rivets into the air – boiling my blood and driving all logic to the wayside.
Hindquarters lurch, forefeet churn into motion…
-----
Spasms increase…my innards are buckling into every contraction. These coiled feet are straining – rotating in vain to ease the agony. The bumpy horizon loam's, becoming more tangible…but would we arrive in time? “Noah…” When another crippling wave eases off, I dig into that final thread of strength and find my voice, “the child,” torrents brush my groan aside, threatening to overpower it, “it comes.” A hot burst of uncontrollable liquid streams over my thighs…we didn’t have long. Teeth clench, grinding with anticipation.
Posted by: Oz - 06-17-2017, 04:48 AM - Forum: Archives
- Replies (4)
A GOD, SOMEWHERE IN THE SKY, TELLS HIM TO HUNT, AND HE GOES, BEGRUDGINGLY, BONES BENDING TO A TIME TITAN'S GAIT.
HE DECIDES, HE WANTS TO GO DREAM
IN PLACES NOT OF HIS OWN . . .
LIKE IN A DREAM, THE GREAT, RED-STRIPED PRAIRIE BENDS HEAVY WITH LARKSPUR AND HIDDEN HINTS OF FAIRY-THINGS, MEADOW GRASS RICH, MADE PREGNANT AND SILVERED BY THE SEASON'S WHITE DRIZZLE, AND FULL-FRESHET RAINS.
A SPRING GREEN, HORRIFIC, WOUND-GOUGED AND BURNED, NAKED MAN WALKS ALONE IN THE WHITE VALLEY, SUN STREAKING ACROSS HIS BACK, WITH BLOOD MUD-THICK AND A DISTRACTED HEAD CRUSHED BRIGHT, AND SHINING IN CORDED SCARS.
WITHOUT REALIZING IT, SOME NOW-GREYED, ONCE-TAUGHT LULLABY PUSHES FROM HIM, CALLING OUT THE HIDDEN-GRASS-THINGS AND COAXING BIRDS ONTO HIS BEATEN, EARTH-SWALLOWED PATH. FROM THEIR LACKA-DAISICAL ATTITUDE (RUNNING ABOUT HIS SLOWLY PLODDING FEET!), HE WAS MORE SENTINEL THAN MAN, THE HEAVING, BOULDER
HULL OF A
MOUNTAIN CRAG,
(INSTEAD OF ANYTHING MUCH ALIVE,)
BARELY A SOUND IN HIM TO OVERTAKE THE CHIRPING AT HIS NECK: A STRING OF BIRDS LIT ON HIS SHOULDERS, PEEPING THEIR PONDERINGS TO EARS CURRENTLY DEAF TO MUCH OUTSIDE OF HIM.
FROM FAR AWAY, IT COULD HAVE BEEN ANY RATCHETY SOUL WANDERING LOST IN QUAINT EDEN, OR THE PIOUS FIRST OF WAR PHANTOMS RETURNING HOME.
HE WOULD BE IMMENSELY ANNOYED AND WELCOMING OF SOMEONE YOUNG AND SPRITELY CHIRPING AT HIM ABOUT THE BRAVE NEW WORLD, AND ALL ITS EXPECTED RELIC-RELATED SPOILS; HE WOULD BE PLEASANT COMPANY FOR ANY OTHER VERSED IN MILITARY TROUBLES, OR WEIGHED EQUIVALENTLY; HE WOULDN'T SAY NO TO A PRETTY FACE INQUIRING, AND OPEN TO INQUIRY.
LEFT IT QUITE OPEN. FOR ANY POSTERS, NICE TO MEET YOU, AND HAPPY HUNTING. ✌
Remember that time when I said I wasn't comfortable with my own mortality? That's still true. BUT! BUTT! See what I did there? Okay focus Rosti. That is still true, however upon further exploration of the cliffs I found a path. It took a lot of wandering, but sure enough I am stepping carefully down a winding path that leads me from the treacherous (read: very high, big drop) ledge. Under the bright sun I can see the crash of the waves on the shore, lining up one after one from the rushing sea. The salty air hits me hard, forcing my senses to get with the picture, so to speak. It takes a little while but I finally reach the bottom and feel the sand around my hooves. The heat from the sun warms the frogs of my feet but somehow it is more comfortable than not.
I walk to the shore and find myself distracted from the relic search as I step into the waves that wash upon the beach. A moment of inspiration, spontaneity... whatever... I drop to my knees and roll there in the light water and damp sand. Coating myself in sand and brine was not part of my day's plan, but then nothing is going according to any 'plan' these days. I'm traveling the whole of this damn place it seems like, with no idea WHAT I'm really searching for -- literally and metaphorically. I'd be lying if I said I knew or understood.
A grin passes across my lips and for a moment I feel... kinda good. Not happy, content, satisfied... none of that. I have no alcohol (I haven't had time to gather fruit yet) and I don't have Damaris (let's not even talk about it) and I don't really know anyone except these brief introductions I've had along the way. But for a SPLIT SECOND... kinda good. To my surprise it lingers as I rise from the ground and continue along the shore, meandering in the breeze. My gaze wanders as I look for the relic, but casually. Just for now....
Leaving the pair of beautiful females behind, I move on in my journey alone the cliffs. The night has darkened, somehow, even deeper than before. The clouds have moved in to obscure the night sky and I can only rely on my own eyesight to find the way. I step slowly, my hooves near-silent on the gravely, dusty ground of the cliff. I can hear the sea on the other side of the edge, but I don't go that way to investigate. Although I would consider myself the adventurous sort, and although I have no fear of water... I am not comfortable with my mortality. Why should I push the boundaries when I don't really need to? Exactly.
My muzzle drags the ground, sniffing and nosing the ground in search of the relic of Tempus. I'm still amused at the idea that there is a Time God here, but he seems so different from the Time God back in Helovia. He is the lone creator of this world, and... does not seem to be related to spark at all. Does that mean he is not one and the same as the God of the Spark from back then? It seems so strange that there could be two that are one but different. I try not to think too hard of it as I keep up my search. I'd like to think of myself as intelligent but that doesn't mean I need to work the good ol' brain too hard if I don't need to.
Posted by: Venari - 06-16-2017, 10:03 AM - Forum: Archives
- No Replies
Venari woke to the sound of silence. As he stirred from a relatively peaceful sleep he felt a sense of eeriness wash over him; nothing at the day court stirred and for a building of it's importance and stature, that unnerved him greatly. The stallion stood up and shook out, flicking the sand grains from his ebony pelt and regaining a sense of comfort.
Azure eyes scanned the structure directly ahead of him; the architecture was outstanding. For a building build an age ago too, it baffled him to think about how it was created. Placing a hoof forward, Ven set off in a walk and kept a firm gaze all about him. He did not want to be surprised here, and while he was sure he was alone at this very moment, it was unlikely to stay that way while visiting such a landmark. As his hooves dragged against the grain (he was being lazy in his gait and still waking up) he craned his neck down to check for the sign of anything shiny. Thank god for eyelashes he thought as he managed to avoid most of the sand hitting his eyes.
*
TAGGED: Open
NOTES: short post oops
TIMELINE: Tenth relic location, fourth day, morning (halfway there woot!)
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
Another long day has passed with no luck on finding the relic. She looked to the evenings stars wondering if there was some sort of answer from the gods. When she first arrived her she felt as if there must be a reason for her to be here. It happened at the right moment, the perfect adrenaline filled moment where at one second her captor, the man who scared her so much not to run is in a fight. Some alcohol filled fight with some stranger she never met. Her heart racing behind her pale skin, she didn’t know what to do at first but then she ran for the door. She had been trying to entertain some other gentleman in the bar when she jumped from his lap and ran. Everything was happening in slow motion. The instant she opened the door she saw it was snowing. The world was black and white and she could see nothing past the light from the door, she didn’t know where she was but she kept going. Her steps leaving perfect prints in the snow. She had no shoes on and she can feel the cold in between her toes. She ran down the road through the mud of wheel tracks and hoofprints. She fell once, her knees falling in the dirt. She looked at her hands for a moment before she turned to consider the dark where she had run from the man who had turned out to be the worst decision of her life. She pushed herself up in her pink dress and kept running until her soft feet slapping in the dirt turned into hooves pounding the dirt.
In one moment, she was here and the snow had stopped. It was like she could almost see it again as she stared at the evenings sky next to this lake. This lake where she decided she would stay for the night. She may never get another chance to see this lake after the sovereigns are decided for the lands and the borders close. This is such a beautiful place. She looked over the waters of the lake with pink eyes that glowed in the evening sunlight. Bugs littered the top of the water as far as she could see. The clouds from the rain earlier are gone now and leaving the most beautiful auburn and purple sunset over the land. Her last search of the evening would be the lake shore while the sun remained and then she would sleep with the stars as her blanket and the lake her view.
Two down -- how many to go? I've come down from the mountain, taking care that my steps are placed exactly where I want them, for fear of losing my balance as sliding all the way down to the bottom. I grunted with each step, my body groaning at the effort of being careful instead of a blundering fool. I make a good blundering fool. But eventually I did make it down, to a nice and calm valley where a creek ran through.
So now you find me, where I am now on the bank of the creek. Some unnamed creek that probably means sometime to someone. Not me of course.. I scratch my muzzle on my leg, pondering how I should go about this relic searching. No luck finding it yet.. but I also don't know what the hell I'm doing.
I spare a glance at the flask around my thick neck, wishing that I could take a sip - just one sip! - to soothe the rumbling spirit inside me. Fuck it. Whatever stupid mission thing I'm on is just enough to distract me from the sorrows that are tugging at my insides. The pain of loneliness and guilt, the emptiness. If I focus on this fucking relic from this damn God maybe I can forget. Just for a little bit.
I lower my nose to the creek's bank, having no idea what I'm looking for. What scent, texture, color.. is it gold? Pink? Neon green? What's with my color choices... scaly or smooth, rough and scratchy? I grunt at the innocent green bank. Maybe it is in the water... I step into the calm creek water and stick my head underneath. Luckily on the edge it isn't too deep, and my eyes stay above the water. There's only silt on the bottom, as I discover with quivering nostrils and a scraggly, mud-covered beard.
I lift my mug from the water and grunt, then stomp a hoof angrily into the water, disturbing the serenity. "Well, where the hell is it? How do I know if I've found it?"
Well fuck me. What was I expecting - a long, happy, fulfilling life? Who knows... but certainly that is not what the Gods had in store for me, oh NO! Why would poor ol' Rostislav get to hold on to something nice? THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS!! Because Rosti has to get drunk off his fat ass and wander off into the distance never to be seen again. Of course that hadn't been my intention.. but intentions are worthless these days. Kiara, Vitani, Damaris... oh Damaris!! A pang strikes my heart like ice and I gasped for air as the unbidden tears burst to my pale eyes. Within seconds they're trickling down my face, hesitating over old scars that mar my appearance.
I fling myself to the ground, the dew from the grass tickling and wetting my face in the cool morning. I don't know where I am. I don't fucking care. Why doesn't matter now? All the I've known and loved is behind me. The emptiness is tangible. The feeling that I've lost.. everything. My friends and family, my beloved companion. I sense that she's still alive.. somewhere. But where or in what condition I haven't the faintest. My magic is gone. Even - and you'll never believe this - my VODKA is gone! That's right, the flask has run dry. I can fill it with fermented fruit I suppose but that's going to be a pain in the fucking ass.
I close my eyes and try to calm myself but the unrelenting emotions still wash over me, drowning me again and again. Breath comes quick and shallow as I can't self-soothe. I close my eyes and sob.. horrible, aching cries that a grown stallion should never cry. The tears meld with the dew. Nothing can stop me.
Except time, and finally time does stop me. The sobs ebb, my breathing slows, and I become quiet. I've cried myself out and though the pain is not gone, the well of tears has run dry. I close my eyes and listen to the sounds around me. Birds singing softly as they awaken, chipmunks and squirrels chittering angrily (most likely at me)... Never before have I wanted to be passed out, shitfaced drunk. And for the longest time nothing has prevented me. Now I'm the most sober I've been, beyond recent memory. Since childhood.
But this is the hangover I deserve... the sobriety I must suffer. These are the consequences of my actions.
Like a wraith, Nimue did not always realize where her hooves were taking her. Often she would wander, savoring the silence of being away from Court, from the minds of the other citizens with their intrepid nonsense. Just at the thought of it, she rolled her eyes. As a Sage, she was a keeper of knowledge and secrets and nothings. As a being much older than that -- cursing her lost immortality -- she knew much much more. What existed in the present and beyond. All that was lost to her, she gained to obtain again. Mindlessly, Nimue found herself climbing the rocky stairs to the top of the Peak at the heart of this world.
Stopping, Nimue swore as her hoof slipped on her blind side, catching on the mostly-melted snow on the crags. She looked up, blinking cold tears out of her eyes as the wind howled. At this altitude, the air was deliciously thin and crisp with cold. Winter still held her fingers onto the capped peak, melted in some places that were normally kissed by the sun. Moss and ivy grew in the places that were warm under daylight. Funny, that myth would say those who worship at the peak's pinnacle are graced by the gods. A folly, really. The mare would never admit aloud that she had contemplated asking the gods of the New World to strip her mortality away. Even now, she could not shake the feeling of her skin crumbling around her, her bones withering under her weight like the ruins of a castle. She felt every breath like she was flirting Death, longing for the bliss of timelessness once more.
But Nimue hadn't lowered herself to beg the gods just yet. So she wandered, trotting forward up the steep slope. The sky was a clear, cloudless night, inky and perfect in it's darkness. Stars glittered across the mass, close enough she felt she could touch them. She would not deign herself to ask the gods for guidance here; simply solace. A place to be as far away she could be. And what better place to go than one that felt as close to home as possible? Nimue scoffed. Glacies would scorn her for that one -- only the stars knew how she lived back then in another Court. For now, Nimue climbed, her good eye aimlessly tracking the path up, up, up.
---
OOC: First post with Nimue.. check! Apologizes if this is ridiculously rusty or choppy. It's been a hot minute since I've done roleplaying and equines omg O.o so please bear with me c: Also, please tag! I appreciate it <3
Thread title directly inspired by the Magicians :3
There was no love that compared to the love of his city. He had not been born within Denocte, or Novus entirely, but it had become his home as surely as the ocean kissed the sand. It did not have everything he desired - far from it, but nevertheless it was the place he called home and one of the only places he found himself dedicated and loyal to. Had he stumbled upon the Day Court he might have had more heat to burn the shame from his skin, or a better regime to fold himself into... but he had fallen into the hands of midnight instead. Reichenbach did not regret it, and never dreamed of spending his days in any other court for this was the court that had been chosen for him. It was where he had met his adoptive father and brother, where he'd met.. Swallow.
To think her name even now made him retreat, shame and longing a painful lump in his weary chest. How had the years not dulled that fierce ache? How was it that he, one of the more successful warriors of Denocte, was still riddled with regret? Distance echoed in his silver eyes, vacant and never-ending as he stared sightlessly toward the large, ancient building that used to hold the Sovereign of the Night Court. It had been vacant for too long now - waiting. The decision would be left to the citizens of Denocte, it was the way of the Night Court for choice to be available to it's citizens. It was one of the things Reich loved most - the Night Court did not expect anyone to be anything other than what they truly wanted to be, there was no judgement, only acceptance. It was how he, a thin shouldered, fierce eyed gypsy boy had become who he was today. Even better, Denocte was mostly a mystery to outsiders - though lately without a sovereign there had been more and more traffic through their vast lands.
Reich returned to himself with a slight shake of his ebony curls, noting the musical jingle of the coins in his hair and around his strong foreleg. He'd trained and trained to be where he was now, though the mischief had never left his smile, the cheek could still be found abundant within the depths of his long lashed eyes. Humour often laced his broad, open smile, and he had a bounty of friends through all of Novus - though he held none so close to his heart as his lost brother. The thought stirred him into motion, shifting his muscular neck to turn back and look at the bustling hive of activity that was the citizens of Denocte. They were the foundation of his life, they had given him food when he was hungry, blankets on cold nights and finally a family to believe in - they had given him the song that thrummed through his smouldering, ember-ridden veins. If he could do anything for their survival, for their happiness, he would do it. Including finding that gods-damned relic.
