|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2020 4:32 pm
Aldwyn wasn't big on exploration. He considered himself more of an observer, someone who sat by the wayside and waited and watched to uncover things because of someone else's actions, rather than his own. He would never call himself lazy, of course, but he saw the merits of patience, and preferred not to be hasty with his own safety. Or that of others. Their world was depending on them. There was no room to simply gamble with a life or risk potential ruination. And when there were problems close to home, creeping up from the Barrens at the edges of Homewood, Aldwyn saw little reason to seek adventure father than that.
In all his years, he'd never once traveled to the Ruins of Erli. Why should he? Before he'd been granted his gift, the area was nothing but a hazard to someone who could do nothing to help it. And now that Aldwyn had been granted his blessing, he couldn't bring himself to risk the danger of an unfamiliar area. If something happened to him, where would that leave his foal?
Because Bryone was certainly nothing like Aldwyn. The youngster's curiosity led him farther and farther from the den each day, and each day, Aldwyn struggled to keep up with a young buck that was growing ever more eager to stretch his legs.
When Bryone didn't return one evening, Aldwyn knew he was off somewhere he'd never been, searching for something new to explore.
The group of foals he could usually find Bryone with helpfully told him that his son had been going on rather adamantly about sneaking away to the Ruins. The others had disagreed, but to prove his bravery and save face, Bryone had gone, anyway. Aldwyn nearly bit through his tongue trying to remain polite to the other youngsters, but what he wanted to do was scream. No one had thought to inform him? No one else was concerned? He'd been gone all day and hadn't returned, for Grandfather Tree's sake, and something truly dreadful could have happened to him!
By the time Aldwyn arrived in the Ruins, the setting sun painted the area in a dusky pink glow. Sheets of metal splintered up from the ground, and the skeletal remains of buildings pierced higher into the sky than most trees. Aldwyn's ears swiveled at any sound as he stepped delicately through the streets, head low.
"Bryone!" He shouted, trying to sound more firm than desperate. "I know you're here, somewhere! Come out!" At every creak of metal or crumbling stone that answered, Aldwyn jumped a bit in startled fear, but he had to press onward. He couldn't abandon his foal...
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 22, 2020 8:17 pm
Training intensified exponentially with the presence of Miros’ new gift, his mother’s pride bursting with the exponential force of a hurricane, driving them both further, harder. Miros spent most of time sweat drenched with heaving flanks, forcing the flickering red of his magic out of him until it merged with the salt excretions of his skin. Every part of him was alight, burning with potential, raw and ragged at the edges from too much- No, not too much. Mother never pushed him further than he could take. She only wanted him to be as adept as she was, to one day earn his colors like the shimmering scarlet that painted her flanks. If he wanted to be like her, he needed to pour every ounce of his sweat and tears into mastering his gift. And he would, but for now… Miros lifted his chin to the cool breeze, shivering as the wind plucked the hot sweat from his withers and kissed him with a welcome chill. He lounged on what had once been the balcony of a third tier habitation unit; the iron-wrought guard rails consumed by rust and wobbly in their socket. The little herb garden someone had attempted to grow was now wild as the wood, flooding out of the dirt boxes and over the rails like hair spilling loose from a braid. Miros’ tail flicked over the edge, swaying with the wind as he inhaled the deep, earthy scents of the foreign herbs. He ought to rip them out by their roots, he thought. They weren’t from Vykeli… probably not, anyway. He’d ask his mother her opinion on it when he returned home. The Ruins were her least favorite place to travel. “Everything is alive there,” she said to him,” The ruins don’t need our help.” With a sharp emphasis on the word ‘our’, her unspoken curse that someone else wasn’t doing their job. Not as well as she would like. Miros loved the ruins. He loved the tang of metal - copper, almost blood-like - that hung in the air. He adored the wild spill of green across the man-made metal beams. The endless places to explore and the high scaffolding to cautiously climb. There might be nothing here for him to do, but it was… nice. To sit here with the breeze and the alien architecture and just… quiet himself for a few moments. ”Bryone!” Miros snapped upright, his hooves clanking under his body before he’d consciously registered the move.. Or the noise. He wasn’t alone here, and whoever was below him sounded distressed. He shoved his head over the edge of the balcony to look down, only to find a spotted buck searching and spooking between the shadows. “Hello!” Miros called to him. He didn’t want to startle the stranger any more than necessary. Even if he had wanted to be quiet, a cacophony of clatter accompanied his clambering over the rails to the walkway below. It was slow work, winding his way down, even taking as many shortcuts as Miros was willing, leaping from layer to layer rather than taking the - much safer - stairways. The metal creaked under his weight, but he didn’t stay in any place long enough for the grates to snap free. “Are you all right?” he said, nearly at the ground level now, watching the other buck with flicks and squints through the darkness between the cautious glances at his own foot falls. “Do you need help?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2020 9:30 am
Aldwyn's body jolted to a still at the first clatter of metal somewhere above him. His head dipped low, ears back, limbs terse and eyes blown wide as he eyed the area from which the sound had come. The Ruins to him were the least welcoming place outside of Homewood. The Others had built it up tall, with many perches and nooks for predators to hide and observe. Their domains were old and rusted, waiting to crumple to the ground at the slightest motivation. The Barrens, for all their inhospitableness, hid very little. But in the Ruins, danger could be anywhere, and an unprepared noulicorn may never even be aware of it, particularly when darkness loomed.
A dark grey head appeared over the railing, and Aldwyn twitched at the sight, still waiting for trouble despite recognizing the outline of another noulicorn. His ears flicked forward sharply, then back once more at the greeting, but Aldwyn found it difficult to relax.
Particularly when the other buck clamored from the balcony and down the rusted iron stair grate in a series of small leaps and bounds. Aldwyn was mortified. A part of him wanted to demand silence. It wouldn't be perfect if something else knew they were rummaging about. But he dismissed the thought as nonsense before it even fully had the chance to form. He'd been shouting for Bryone. He did want his foal to know he was here, though he hoped this racket didn't scare him into moving farther away.
But surely a second body would mean they were more protected than alone. A second set of eyes would make it easier to spot Bryone, if the foal found it more amusing to hide, which Aldwyn had to acknowledge that he might.
His tail swayed stiffly, and Aldwyn was slow to ease back into more normal posture. "I'm not hurt," he admitted quietly, gaze still narrowed and pinned on the other figure. And as much as he didn't want to admit out loud with the trouble was (an admission of his poor parenting abilities), he did need the help. Aldwyn gave a terse nod. "I believe my foal wandered out here," he whispered. "Somewhere in the Ruins alone. And he is so small..." It didn't feel necessary to elaborate and dwell further on what this area could mean to a small, untrained, and unlearned noulicorn.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 28, 2020 9:09 pm
Miros made the last leap with a powerful kick, landing on quiet hooves. Metal rattled an angry cough behind him, but quieted without a fuss. No harm done. Closer now, the other buck was an easy spot in the darkness with his bright, white coat. A foal lost out here? Even Miros’ mother never left him in the ruins unattended when he was small. The few excursions they’d had were to test his agility, lessons that paid well despite the cost in scrapes and bruises. Mother warned him about predators lurking here and how easy it was to get snatched up by a shadowy cat beast or bold dire rats when one barely outweighed a jackhop. “I saw some nouls earlier.” Miros flicked his ears back, consternation furrowing his brow. “I don’t remember any foals, but I wasn’t keeping watch.” The ruins were a maze of hiding places. So many curiosities calling at young foals with creeping fingers of newness scratching imagination’s itches. “But I haven’t seen any predators either.” Not a promise, a stealthy cat beast could squeeze into shadows too tight for even the most agile noulicorn. Miros preferred the optimistic route. “Bryone, right? I heard you calling that name. I’m sorry I don’t have better information but I’d be happy to help you look, I’m comfortable in the ruins, and there’s-” He turned from the appaloosa, squinting through shadows. There were so many places to disappear. The half-opened habitation units, the deep concrete gorge below with its branching sewer paths, the towers of rusted scaffolding reaching as high as Homewood’s trees, turned to black skeletal monsters in dusk. Miros shoved every second-hand worry down deep. “What would attract his attention the most? We can start there.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 01, 2020 7:50 am
'Try to be calm,' Aldwyn reminded himself as he took a steadying breath. Bryone was still young and small, but he was neither as young nor as small as he had been when Aldwyn found him at Grandfather Tree's roots. He was growing and learning, and- and perhaps he could be successful at traversing the Ruins-
But as that thought formed in his head, so too did others behind it, darker and more frightening. Aldwyn wanted to keep his cool, but no amount of trying to convince himself to relax would ease the rigidity plaguing his posture. Even the other buck's assertion that he'd seen adult noulicorns moving through earlier didn't raise Aldwyn's spirits much. There very well could be some out in the Ruins doing their duty at this very moment, but there could still be so much ground to cover, and foals were so small, capable of squeezing into places adults couldn't... It would be so easy to lose an unsupervised youngling forever out here...
He took another breath and set up a trotting pace, tail flicking in beckoning if the grey male wanted to follow him. "You've nothing to apologize for," Aldwyn murmured. "None of this was your fault. Even knowing that you did see some noulicorns walking through is information enough."
It wasn't anyone's fault but his own, and his thoughts skittered to what the other might think of him, for losing his foal out in such a dangerous place...
He couldn't dwell on it, though. "I'd sincerely hoped that if he simply knew I was here, searching for him, that he would answer when he heard my call. He must be frightened. He must be! I have never once brought him here as he is much too young for it to be anything but dangerous. These metal spires, a daring cat beast... Even if I were here to guard him, what terrible accidents could happen to an unprepared foal?" Without waiting for a response he shouted again into the encroaching darkness, "Bryone! Where are you?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 01, 2020 9:25 pm
Miros watched the rising panic cascade over the other buck, and his own heart sank in sympathy. Miros wasn’t long out of foalhood himself, but he imagined the extent of terror in the stranger’s mind. He kicked off after him without a word of protest, squinting at the grim shadows and cracked doorways of habitation units for flashes of movement. No luck. “My mother used to bring me here when I was getting my legs,” Miro started, uncertain if his story would help the stranger or worsen his concerns. “She taught me how to check for unstable platforms, how to keep my footing if anything fell. I explored a few units with her standing guard outside. It’s not terribly dangerous inside them, as long as you’re not trying to force doors open.” Miros had gotten stuck behind one in his childhood. Trapped and alone in a black room filled with alien equipment. Mother had been so angry. He’d known better than to forget his exits. She’d left him there for hours until he figured out a way to wrench a metal beam in the seal and lever his way out again. Her ferocity followed him for days. “Cat beasts keep a wide berth when adults are near, too.” Even if he hadn’t seen Bryone, adults coming through were an excellent sign. “I’m Miros, by the way.” Unfortunate circumstances to meet a new friend. Miros raised his head to the taller units and flimsy metal scaffolding reaching high around them. “I could climb back up and get a better look. If he’s out in the open somewhere, I might spot him. Do you think that would help?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2020 6:55 am
Was he an inadequate parent? The other buck- Miros, as he'd introduced himself- had been taught how to weather the Ruins at a young age, where Aldwyn had hardly ever stepped hoof here, himself, let alone with Bryone at his side. Would it be better for him, then, if he were to take his young foal to these dangerous places, so that he might see and learn and be prepared for the trials the future held? Was Aldwyn being selfish by secluding him to the safety Homewood offered?
No, he decided.
Aldwyn was scarcely prepared for such things, himself. His parents had never trained him in the Ruins, and if he did not know how to traverse these- his gaze skittered up the metal barricades of the Others' habitation units- paths, then how would he do in guiding Bryone? His tail drooped, spilling long white hairs to the cement to drag behind him as he moved. He was unprepared for so much.
"Your mother sounds as if she has a lot of passion for seeing you fulfill your duty." He wasn't at all surprised by the information. Aldwyn was sure there were many parents who behaved similarly, who wanted their children taught and ready for anything they may face. "But I don't think I could be like that for Bryone..." He'd only barely received his gift, himself. There were still so many things of the world he didn't know and areas he hadn't explored.
How could he expect to prepare a young foal, when he was scarcely prepared, himself?
He let his gaze trail up the length of the metal scaffolding as Miros indicated it, and Aldwyn surveyed it silently for a long moment. He was not agile enough to make that climb, so eventually, he gave a tiny nod of consent. "If you think it would help, I'd be very grateful. Oh- And my name is Aldwyn."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2020 6:57 pm
Mother’s purpose was to prepare Miros for his duty as wanderer, to mold him into a shining asset for Vykeli’s future. She’d poured so much of herself into him, countless ragged hours training, pushing Miros when his legs buckled and his spirit waned. He’d be nothing without her. She’d glimpsed his potential and polished it until he shone. And one day soon he’d glitter with the mark of an adept. Passion seemed a pale word for his mother. But it would be rude to correct Aldwyn, so Miros didn’t. “Everyone has a unique place in Vykeli.” Miros’ smile softened amicably. Mother didn’t always think like that. She believed Vykeli had no space for those that didn’t offer sweat and blood. ”We’re strangers here, too,” she said to Miros. “Just like the Others, only our purpose is to fix their mistakes. Our lives are for Vykeli, they are not our own.” Miros understood this, he knew his duty, and he’d never shirk it, but he watched the other noulicorns of Homewood. Watched foals play games with one another, families bond and expand in loving circles, Homewood’s culture brimming with fresh stories, the yearly festivals that brought them all together. They deserved joy, didn’t they? For every ounce an noulicorn gave to Vykeli, shouldn’t they be rewarded with friendship and laughter? That wasn’t for him. He wouldn’t shirk his duty. Miros stepped back, tracing the paths of crossing platforms, rickety metal rails, winding staircases caked brown with rust. “I’ll shout down to you, stay close.” He sprang forward, light as feathers, bounding up the first levels with sharp bursts of metal as the tiers shuddered underneath him. He twisted away from unstable grates, danced around hanging pitfalls, and wound his way up, up until he heaved himself to the highest perch. Old birds nest scattered the flat, thick with feathers and the pungent odor of their droppings. The roof complained at his weight as Miros tiptoed cautiously to the far edge. Green and brown swam together below him, with dull chinks of iron grey metal. “I don’t see…” Miros leaned forward, squinting hard. There. A flash of orange among the drab. Was it a foal or a cat beast? “There!” Miros shouted. “At the far end of the next habitation unit. Be careful!” He didn’t want Aldwyn to face dangers on his own, but panic gripped him and made his steps clumsy. He swallowed hard, shut his eyes, and sucked a deep breath to his belly. Be calm, he told himself, tinged with his mother’s voice. Be calm and do what’s needed. He started his descent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 13, 2020 7:43 am
Aldwyn's gaze narrowed. His ears pinned. "Offer sweat and blood," he repeated, tone low and terse. His tail gave a single violent lash, and even though one rolling note of dissatisfaction escaped his throat, he bit his tongue.
The zeal of some noulicorns had not escaped his notice over the moons he spent watching, observing the families of Homewood around him and how they interacted with each other. Grandfather Tree did not speak, and so it often left room for those who dared to think on it room for interpretation on what the great oak's intentions were. For the most part, everyone accepted that they had a duty to use their gifts to heal the land, but... Aldwyn was aware that there were a few extremists who wanted more than that.
He was not one to put himself into the middle of an argument, particularly not with any noulicorns with particularly insistent beliefs, but he disagreed strongly with the notion that they were only tools for the benefit of the land. How could he possibly believe that in the wake of the mistakes made by the Others, noulkind did not deserve the freedom to live a life worth living?
How could anyone believe that the land the trod on, the white oak who gifted them magic, only saw use of them if they surrender their sense of self and offered blood in its place.
If everyone thought as such, they would live in a very unhealthy society.
But he didn't say as much, and soon the other young buck was leaping away from Aldwyn, taking to the rickety metal staircases that twined up the sides of the Others' habitation units. Aldwyn kept to the streets, moving forward along the ground as Miros sprang across the grates. His gaze stayed focused ahead, searching for his foal, but his ears had difficulty taking note of anything besides the moaning metal and screeching clatter as Miros moved.
But when the other buck shouted, 'There!' Aldwyn moved at once, breaking into a gallop as he dove for the sharp corner of the building and whipped around it.
The flash of a red- brown pelt was a pair of scrabbling hooves against the dirt. Aldwyn recognized them at once. Bryone's front legs pawed desperately from beneath a thick metal sheet that had toppled over and now lay plastered flat against a shallow dip in the ground. Bryone was trapped in the pit, body too small and weak to move the metal that covered his escape. "Help!" Now that he was nearer, Aldwyn heard the scratchy sound of his foal's cries.
How long had he been there, scrabbling at the sides of the shallow trench and heaving at the metal sheeting? Aldwyn rushed forward, relieved to see Bryone still squirming, rather than horrifyingly still. "I'm here!" He called back as he approached the dip. "I'm here. I'll get you out..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 22, 2020 3:39 pm
The rush down chorused a burst of metal screeches as Miros disregarded his footing in exchange for speed. He landed roughly, buckling a knee with a hiss of pain, but he squashed the feeling down and raced onward, whipping around the corner after Aldwyn's trail. The sight that greeted him was better than he'd expected. The foal was horrifically pinned, but still alive. Too small and weak to free himself. He was lucky he'd been in the pit when the metal toppled over or he would have been crushed. Miros slowed as he reached Aldwyn's side, ears flicked back in worry. That sheet looked heavy, even for an adult. "I think it'll take both of us to lift that." There were no good places to get a purchase, except the small divet Bryone pawed at. Even at a distance, Miros could see the edges were jagged and sharp, no doubt crusted with rust eager to infect any unlucky enough to be cut. Miros sank to his knees, shoved his nose under the metal sheet, and began to lift with muscles straining and legs quivering from the weight. Metal bit into his skin and he grimaced, but this foal needed saving, and Miros could handle a pinch of pain. They wouldn't need to raise it far. Just enough for the foal to squeeze through. The poor thing, how long had he been out here? Trapped and alone? Miros knew that feeling. Hated it. Feared it a sight more than receiving some tetanus-infused cuts from old metal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
