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+---- Thread: [AW] I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending (/showthread.php?tid=2366)
I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Hydra - 06-13-2018
Dawn often signified rejuvenation, symbolizing new promises that budded underneath the sun’s soft pastel rays. Some would bloom, creating flashes of vibrant colors, punctuated by the melody of laughter and peaceful sighs. These were the ones that unfurled pathways of joy, love, and contentment – an overall satisfaction with life. Others stunted and withered, never ascending to their full potential. That’s the way of things, isn’t it? Hydra mused, the thought expanding and giving the weary traveler a headache as the sun spilled over Vitreus Lake. Her pace was restless, her stout body weaving through the final bouts of early successional trees like a snake through grass. She had been so stupid to let her guard down, even for a moment, out in those mountains. The Armas had been treacherous, though they had never presented themselves as anything different. She appreciated the honesty, and berated her lapse of judgement regarding the hospitality of its inhabitants. Her earthen eyes roved to her right haunch, snapping her muzzle back quickly in disgust. Four bloodied slashes glared against her golden hide, each with dried rivulets that had trickled down from the initial wounds. The blood didn’t bother her. It was her carelessness that ate her alive. She wheeled around, throwing her hind legs at a decaying tree that exploded in a display of splintered wood, termites, and emotional displacement. “Fucking cats”, she cursed, the lithe body of the feline slinking through her dusky memories, it’s mouthful of hungry ivory gleaming in the moonlight. “At least I have a cool new scar to impress everyone in Denocte, right?”, she mumbled to herself, sneering at the thought. Vitreus Lake soon lapped invitingly at her hooves, and she blinked as she raised her gaze up to the cloudless fall sky. She lunged forward and threw herself into the lake, her breath hitching in its cold embrace as the alpine waters swallowed her. Her fitful eyes closed as the world fell away. Finally, her mind was quiet. H Y D R A *if you could only see the beast you've made of me... "Speaking" ooc. Finally! :) @Raymond |
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Raymond - 06-14-2018
One of the most interesting results - for Raymond, at least - of the activity atop Veneror Peak was seeing horses wandering up from the southeastern territory. He had resolved to investigate the territory in due time ever since Calliope's eager mention of a dragon, but had half expected them to keep themselves locked up in spite of the summons that they doubtlessly received around the time the unusual goose arrived in the Dusk Court.
Now the gates were open, and as soon as the red stallion could spare a moment he had set out to intrude upon whatever business they'd been hiding behind the rather impressive yet impractical wall of theirs.
A long stride and unhesitant confidence of the sort that lets a guy walk straight through security without turning a single head got him through the open gate under cover of night. As dawn broke over the unfamiliar kingdom, casting a mirror-shine across the surface of a massive lake, the red stallion adjusted his gait from purposeful to meandering, eyes and ears alert even if his body said he was out for an early morning stroll in a place he'd visited a hundred times.
The sound of splintering wood drew his attention to a dun filly by the lake, taking out her frustrations on the local flora. Blood-smell faintly permeated the air; he quirked a brow and pursed his lips as the scent and violence were joined by a hissed fucking cats.
Now, as someone who considered himself rather fond of cats of all shapes and sizes, Raymond was...not offended so much as intrigued by the youth's ire. All cats were dangerous - one could hardly blame a predator for her need to hunt. As Hydra leapt into the lake, Raymond slipped into the space at the shoreline that she had occupied, standing straight-backed and proud as he waited for her to resurface for air.
When she did, he said simply, "I happen to like cats."
Now the gates were open, and as soon as the red stallion could spare a moment he had set out to intrude upon whatever business they'd been hiding behind the rather impressive yet impractical wall of theirs.
A long stride and unhesitant confidence of the sort that lets a guy walk straight through security without turning a single head got him through the open gate under cover of night. As dawn broke over the unfamiliar kingdom, casting a mirror-shine across the surface of a massive lake, the red stallion adjusted his gait from purposeful to meandering, eyes and ears alert even if his body said he was out for an early morning stroll in a place he'd visited a hundred times.
The sound of splintering wood drew his attention to a dun filly by the lake, taking out her frustrations on the local flora. Blood-smell faintly permeated the air; he quirked a brow and pursed his lips as the scent and violence were joined by a hissed fucking cats.
Now, as someone who considered himself rather fond of cats of all shapes and sizes, Raymond was...not offended so much as intrigued by the youth's ire. All cats were dangerous - one could hardly blame a predator for her need to hunt. As Hydra leapt into the lake, Raymond slipped into the space at the shoreline that she had occupied, standing straight-backed and proud as he waited for her to resurface for air.
When she did, he said simply, "I happen to like cats."
Raymond.
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
@Hydra
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Hydra - 06-14-2018
Time had peeled away from Hydra’s mind as she looked up through the lake’s glassy surface. Years, hours, minutes, seconds… aren’t they just abstract constructs anyway? A diorama of the seasons wheeled through her mind, punctuated by sunrises and sunsets and playing out on the silvery screen above her. The ripples from her cannonball quickly smoothed over, erasing her and becoming a blank slate. Her black hooves scarcely grazed the pebbled bottom as she gave her body permission to go limp and simply be.
Her haunches stung before the cool lake soothed the searing lines, and only then did she realize that both had received unwelcome tears from the ambitious feline in the pass. The tendrils from her mane and tail slowly snaked their way to the top, a tumble of cream and ebony flotsam. Loose, free, relaxed - they were the physical embodiment of a finally quieted mind.
She closed her eyes just before the red stallion appeared on the bank. Water pressed against her eyes and she focused on the sensation of tightness beneath her lids, allowing herself to live in the now. The pressure flooded into her ears, fitting snugly. Comforting. It reminded her of the white noise inside of the conches back on the shores of Seasna. She let her mind wander to the strange gate she had passed, it’s odd towers far from inviting. This was the direction her aimless ship had been guided, and what did she have to lose? Thus, she had pressed onward.
The compression in her chest had been patient. It was coming time to concede to the fact that although she had been born near in the sea, she could not visit long. Lazily her lids opened, catching sight of a blazing figure on the shore the moment before she resurfaced, his color piercing even through the refraction beneath the water.
I happen to like cats, he spoke without grandeur as she blinked the Vitreus from her eyes. She remained submerged, her head sitting like a crocodile’s above the calm water, only far less menacing in the morning light.
”I didn’t explicitly say I disliked them… but I would have to say I’m more of a dog kinda gal,” she spoke with a wry smile. The puma wasn’t the main target of her cursing, this she knew. “Birds are pretty cool too…” A stirring moved the water against her fetlocks. It was a harmless fish and nothing more, but it reminded her of her roots. “And sharks, of course.” She felt its tail tickle her leg before it moseyed off into the depths.
“Are you from here? De… Denocte?” she asked Raymond directly, testing the name of the land she had been searching for. The water played on the amber flecks in her quizzical eyes as she assessed the proud stranger before her, noticing but not lingering on his bladed tail.
@Raymond
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Raymond - 06-16-2018
Raymond cast a veiled, lopsided smile at the section of the young mare's face she saw fit to expose to the open air as she answered, his overall demeanor adopting an air of polite attentiveness.
Are you frome here?
Briefly he weighed the cost-benefit ratio of lying and saying that he was. The question suggested that she herself was not a Denoctean, or was so new to the title that she had yet to familiarize herself with the locals. If that were the case, he may well have been able to pass easily as a native son of Denocte, but the leverage it afforded him would likely be having the privilege of pretending to know a lot of things that he didn't. In essence, it amounted to no leverage at all.
"Just visiting," Raymond replied with a slight shake of his head. As relaxed as he sounded, there might have been a family reunion not fifty paces off, where everyone knew his name and considered him family. There wasn't, but there might have been.
Casting a glance over the rest of her, submerged as it was, and noting the faint whorl of red leeching into the waters around her wounded haunches, he added, "I can do something about those cuts for you though, if you'd like."
Raymond was no healer, but all rendari warriors knew at the very least how to field dress a knife-wound. Such practical knowledge could very well mean the difference between life and death, and his brief bout with Pavetta had given him a bit more nuanced understanding of the process. It was the least he could do, knowing he would probably end up lecturing her at some point in the future about getting caught unawares in the first place.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
@Hydra
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Hydra - 06-26-2018
Slowly she stepped forward, her feet finding purchase along the smooth sediment teeming with death and life. She was drawn to him and his promises of something new; a bone to toss to the baying dogs of her curiosity. Her upbringing did not involve war-torn chaos, nor were her parents well versed in healing, thus leaving an expansive gap in her knowledge base.
She stopped in the shallows, water sluggishly retreating from her body and rolling off of her broad back. The blood streaked down her haunches in a rosy watercolor, lazily tracing the burned serpent mark coiled brashly on her left gaskin before mingling with the cool water. “I’m assuming you’ve inflicted your fair share,” she tipped her muzzle towards the weapon on his tail, argent as it caught the soft morning light.
She blinked from beneath a long tangle of forelock, taking a moment to assess the red stranger. He seemed competent and capable, not to mention potentially dangerous. Her youthful eyes were torn between her desperate want to be trusting, though her innate stubbornness lurked ubiquitously beneath their glimmering surface. Hydra was not adept at deceit, and though she could wield many faces, they were candid and as well-concealed as a pimple in a prom picture. She had no room for veiled intent in her repertoire, though she would come to find tucking her emotions into her proverbial pocket rather than wearing them on her sleeve an invaluable tool in time. Some things do just come with age, and for the dusky golden filly, this was one of them. With a sniff, Hydra made up her mind.
“Someone who carries a blade with them is probably well versed in treating wounds, eh?” she offered drily as she cast a sidelong look at Raymond, chin raised. “Show me what you’ve got,” she said with a twitch of her nose, taking to the bank of the lake.
H Y D R A
How the heavens they opened up
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Raymond - 06-28-2018
I'll be a stone, I'll be the hunter,
The tower that casts a shade
***
The tower that casts a shade
***
Raymond had always found the best disguise to be the one that disguised least. Lying is costly and difficult, keeping up with a lie even more so; if deception was on his mind, he preferred to distract rather than mislead. In any case, he had no intention of leading the young mare before him astray. For the time being, the red stallion was exactly what he said he was, and could do exactly what he said he could.
"It beats dying of sepsis," he quipped with a brief head bob and a lopsided smile that affirmed Hydra's assumption where his words did not. He wasn't there to brag or intimidate her - if anything, responding to the sounds of the dusty filly's ire constituted a waste of potentially-valuable time on his way to Denocte's capitol.
His curiosity had gotten the better of him, though. So there they were.
She signaled her consent by shifting to the bank, and the red stallion snaked his head around to study the wounds as he drew near. Though not deep, they continued stubbornly to bleed, and he might have paused to congratulate himself on his own fortitude for not immediately thinking of the far smaller tracks left by Ruth's helpless claws as she was wrested from his back. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then turned his attention to the wild growth near and around the lakeside.
It was a bad season for herb-gathering, and frankly he'd very much have preferred to be in Pavetta's presence with her travel pouch of medical supplies, but the familiar shape of one half-dried plant caught his eye.
Ah yes.
Catlike after his own fashion, Raymond sloped over and snipped the sprig with a twitch of his blade, looking almost professorial as he carried it telekinetically back to the waiting Hydra. Before he set to work rendering the herb, he said, "This is woundwort. If you put it into a poultice, like so...." Even through instruction the red stallion's voice was inviting and conversational. He swept his muzzle through the viscous mixture of mud and yarrow and painted it thickly over the filly's open wounds. "It will help stop bleeding and prevent infections." Perfect for knife fights.
Once upon a time his words could have spoken power into the brittle leaves as he crushed them dutifully into the damp bankmud. Today they would only be leaves and his words only informative.
The job was not glamorous. With her haunches crudely streaked with blood and mud, Hydra looked more like one of those reclusive swamp-dwelling types than a fjord horse, but it would do. "I'd probably suggest you try to avoid having to use it on yourself, though." His tone was more questioning than chastising, and he followed that up with an easy smile. "I'm Raymond."
"It beats dying of sepsis," he quipped with a brief head bob and a lopsided smile that affirmed Hydra's assumption where his words did not. He wasn't there to brag or intimidate her - if anything, responding to the sounds of the dusty filly's ire constituted a waste of potentially-valuable time on his way to Denocte's capitol.
His curiosity had gotten the better of him, though. So there they were.
She signaled her consent by shifting to the bank, and the red stallion snaked his head around to study the wounds as he drew near. Though not deep, they continued stubbornly to bleed, and he might have paused to congratulate himself on his own fortitude for not immediately thinking of the far smaller tracks left by Ruth's helpless claws as she was wrested from his back. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then turned his attention to the wild growth near and around the lakeside.
It was a bad season for herb-gathering, and frankly he'd very much have preferred to be in Pavetta's presence with her travel pouch of medical supplies, but the familiar shape of one half-dried plant caught his eye.
Ah yes.
Catlike after his own fashion, Raymond sloped over and snipped the sprig with a twitch of his blade, looking almost professorial as he carried it telekinetically back to the waiting Hydra. Before he set to work rendering the herb, he said, "This is woundwort. If you put it into a poultice, like so...." Even through instruction the red stallion's voice was inviting and conversational. He swept his muzzle through the viscous mixture of mud and yarrow and painted it thickly over the filly's open wounds. "It will help stop bleeding and prevent infections." Perfect for knife fights.
Once upon a time his words could have spoken power into the brittle leaves as he crushed them dutifully into the damp bankmud. Today they would only be leaves and his words only informative.
The job was not glamorous. With her haunches crudely streaked with blood and mud, Hydra looked more like one of those reclusive swamp-dwelling types than a fjord horse, but it would do. "I'd probably suggest you try to avoid having to use it on yourself, though." His tone was more questioning than chastising, and he followed that up with an easy smile. "I'm Raymond."
***
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
* woundwort is a colloquial term for the yarrow plant
@Hydra <3
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Hydra - 07-03-2018
SHE PAUSED, SQUINTING her quizzical eyes at Raymond from a uplifted visage. A genuine grin split her lips for a moment in response to his comment. She could read between the glints of his blade, behind his reserved composure. The red man had smelled and touched and torn the monsters who only visited Hydra as intangible phantasms in her dreams.
Perhaps she could learn a thing or two.
She remained still throughout his appraisal, ears relaxing back against a cushion of black and white upon her poll. The cooler autumn months had begun to awaken her thicker winter coat, with shaggy hair beginning to sprout at the points of her silhouette. Although her body appeared idle, her eyes were alight with ravenous curiosity. Raymond stood pensively, and as he turned to dabble in the plant life lining the placid lake, her ears snapped forward. She acknowledged the similarities between him and the feline from the pass. Fluid. Precise.
Potentially parlous.
However, fear of missing out was common amongst the youths, and Hydra was no exception. Soon she was beside him, the concept of personal space suddenly foreign to her as she lowered her muzzle to get a better look at which foliage he passed over and on that which he lingered. She devoured each move that the older stallion made, the gears of her mind silently whirring as they imprinted onto her memory. Once it seemed he had made a selection, she stepped back with a soft snort. Silently she watched him wield the weapon on the tip of his tail, this time as naturalist healer rather than warrior.
Her ears fell lopsided as her eyes focused on the tiny, pale flowers suspended before her. Their leaves were tiny, round things that crowded along the stem. A faint spicy scent wafted into her nostrils as Raymond muddled the poultice. Pleasant, she thought with an offhanded tilt of her head and pursing of her lips. Carefully, she watched as he moved to press it upon her wounds.
The muscles in her jaw clenched with a subtle twitch as the stallion applied the mixture, though that was the extent of any negative reaction. When he was finished, she took a moment to sniff at the end result and revel in the tingling tendrils that were leeching into the open rake marks.
Engrossed in her assessment, her concentration was broken by Raymond’s almost fatherly words. She rolled her eyes as she turned her focus back to him, tossing her head with a knowing sigh. She knew that her guard had been woefully down. She knew that she really should take care of herself.
Most importantly, she knew that Raymond could easily have had more important things to do than stop to help a melodramatic filly.
“Yeah, yeah… I’ll admit I didn’t entirely have my wits about me,” she spoke plainly, cocking a brow and pursing her lips as she shrugged. “Raymond. Nice to meet you. I’m Hydra. Thanks for your help, I appreciate it. Even if I now look like a creature from the black lagoon.” A genuine thank you from Hydra? Her parents would’ve scoffed in disbelief. “The puma seemed a bit… worse for the wear. I was able to pin it against some rocks in a narrow pass and scrape it off.”
Her brows furrowed as she recalled the details - the charred bits of forest she had passed, the ash-covered bones and singed fur. “It almost looked starved, come to think of it. What the hell happened in those mountains, to leave them so desecrated and burnt?” Swarthy eyes demanded an answer for the wreckage, the pyre that blighted the mountainside, and she hoped that the red stallion before her knew.
Perhaps she could learn a thing or two.
She remained still throughout his appraisal, ears relaxing back against a cushion of black and white upon her poll. The cooler autumn months had begun to awaken her thicker winter coat, with shaggy hair beginning to sprout at the points of her silhouette. Although her body appeared idle, her eyes were alight with ravenous curiosity. Raymond stood pensively, and as he turned to dabble in the plant life lining the placid lake, her ears snapped forward. She acknowledged the similarities between him and the feline from the pass. Fluid. Precise.
Potentially parlous.
However, fear of missing out was common amongst the youths, and Hydra was no exception. Soon she was beside him, the concept of personal space suddenly foreign to her as she lowered her muzzle to get a better look at which foliage he passed over and on that which he lingered. She devoured each move that the older stallion made, the gears of her mind silently whirring as they imprinted onto her memory. Once it seemed he had made a selection, she stepped back with a soft snort. Silently she watched him wield the weapon on the tip of his tail, this time as naturalist healer rather than warrior.
Her ears fell lopsided as her eyes focused on the tiny, pale flowers suspended before her. Their leaves were tiny, round things that crowded along the stem. A faint spicy scent wafted into her nostrils as Raymond muddled the poultice. Pleasant, she thought with an offhanded tilt of her head and pursing of her lips. Carefully, she watched as he moved to press it upon her wounds.
The muscles in her jaw clenched with a subtle twitch as the stallion applied the mixture, though that was the extent of any negative reaction. When he was finished, she took a moment to sniff at the end result and revel in the tingling tendrils that were leeching into the open rake marks.
Engrossed in her assessment, her concentration was broken by Raymond’s almost fatherly words. She rolled her eyes as she turned her focus back to him, tossing her head with a knowing sigh. She knew that her guard had been woefully down. She knew that she really should take care of herself.
Most importantly, she knew that Raymond could easily have had more important things to do than stop to help a melodramatic filly.
“Yeah, yeah… I’ll admit I didn’t entirely have my wits about me,” she spoke plainly, cocking a brow and pursing her lips as she shrugged. “Raymond. Nice to meet you. I’m Hydra. Thanks for your help, I appreciate it. Even if I now look like a creature from the black lagoon.” A genuine thank you from Hydra? Her parents would’ve scoffed in disbelief. “The puma seemed a bit… worse for the wear. I was able to pin it against some rocks in a narrow pass and scrape it off.”
Her brows furrowed as she recalled the details - the charred bits of forest she had passed, the ash-covered bones and singed fur. “It almost looked starved, come to think of it. What the hell happened in those mountains, to leave them so desecrated and burnt?” Swarthy eyes demanded an answer for the wreckage, the pyre that blighted the mountainside, and she hoped that the red stallion before her knew.
H Y D R A
How the heavens they opened up
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
@Raymond :)
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Raymond - 07-06-2018
@Hydra | <3 So much has developed since this thread began! Maybe we can wrap it up and pick up a new one set during the present shenanigans?
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Hydra - 07-07-2018
SHE LIKED TO think that attention to detail was one of her stronger traits, which made it all the more embarrassing to have been attacked from behind while making the arduous trek through the pass.
Her eyes widened as she listened to him recall the presence of a dragon. Immediately her mind began to wander home. She allowed herself to stroll among the memories of intricately carved boats lining the rocky shores. Their hulls were adorned with gaping sea monsters and scaled behemoths whose wings would’ve blotted out the sun. She remembered tracing the artfully etched lines with her muzzle, and smiled fleetingly at the thought of her father.
Her eyes met Raymond’s again.
“I crossed through Veneror Peak on my way here. I think I heard the voice of a god there… First time for everything, I suppose,” she mused softly, feeling as though she could still hear the deep, ethereal sound in her ears. Jaxis had called the deity Tempus. More accurately, she had spat the name out and trod on it with jaded, skeptical hooves.
“This doesn’t sound like one of those situations where you’d be an ass for assuming… I mean, how many dragons are there just lying around?” Of course, Novus was brimming with secrets and creatures that she had never seen before, though certainly she would’ve noticed if there was an exorbitant amount of the gargantuan beasts.
Her ears pricked at his invitation. She tilted her head, angling it downwards. With a light smile, she bid him to lead the way.
“Sure thing.”
Her eyes widened as she listened to him recall the presence of a dragon. Immediately her mind began to wander home. She allowed herself to stroll among the memories of intricately carved boats lining the rocky shores. Their hulls were adorned with gaping sea monsters and scaled behemoths whose wings would’ve blotted out the sun. She remembered tracing the artfully etched lines with her muzzle, and smiled fleetingly at the thought of her father.
Her eyes met Raymond’s again.
“I crossed through Veneror Peak on my way here. I think I heard the voice of a god there… First time for everything, I suppose,” she mused softly, feeling as though she could still hear the deep, ethereal sound in her ears. Jaxis had called the deity Tempus. More accurately, she had spat the name out and trod on it with jaded, skeptical hooves.
“This doesn’t sound like one of those situations where you’d be an ass for assuming… I mean, how many dragons are there just lying around?” Of course, Novus was brimming with secrets and creatures that she had never seen before, though certainly she would’ve noticed if there was an exorbitant amount of the gargantuan beasts.
Her ears pricked at his invitation. She tilted her head, angling it downwards. With a light smile, she bid him to lead the way.
“Sure thing.”
H Y D R A
How the heavens they opened up
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
Like arms of dazzling gold
With our rain-washed histories well, we do not need to be told
@Raymond Sounds like a plan! I’ll consider this thread closed.
RE: I could surrender, but I'd just be pretending - Raymond - 07-08-2018
Raymond could have shared with her a recounting of Calliope's rampage across the riftlands, when dragons did darken the sky like murmurations of starlings. But dragons seem to be as unique and varied as horses, and those had been nothing like this one seen bending to the will and whim of a smug-faced porcelain princeling.
They had also died like autumn leaves to the withering chill of Calliope's retribution, but that was a story for another day.
"Oh, you'd be surprised."
Nodding an acknowledgement, the red stallion turned and beckoned her with him toward Denocte's heart, and whatever shadows awaited therein.
Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
A crappy closer.