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 Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:00 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:00 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:00 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:01 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:01 pm
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Shadows on the Grave
RP with Brigitte, Xibalba, and Psyche
Psyche and Xibalba visit Brigitte, and Xibalba gets his mask
 A strange sort of reverence seems to cling to any burial ground no matter of religion or creed of those burried inside. Even without formal tombstones or markers, an air of solemness and reverence hangs in the air. To some, who are too caught up in their own affairs, this air may very well go unnoticed, and disgrace may come to a graveyard and the spirits who rest within. But to others who are more attuned with such things, even an unmarked graveyard is absolutely unmistakable.
This graveyard in particular was rather unremarkable. A few old stones huddled together within the confines of a scrub-brush land at the base of hte mountains. To a casual viewer, they might appear as nothing more than rocks having fallen from peaks above. However, their spacing indicated otherwise. As did the reverence of the forest not to overtake this land. If there were ever any names inscribed on the rocks, the wind and rain had stolen them years ago. Now, just irregular shaped rocks speared out of the ground in surprisingly regular intervals.
However, this graveyard was remarkable in one aspect: it had a guardian. Whomever or whatever was burried deep in the earth must have been significant in some regards. The forest itself seemed to understand this. And whatever subconscious drive pushed the mare Brigitte to do what she did somehow knew this. For Brigitte had long ago lost most of whatever rational thoughts she once possessed. The skull on her face was no mask, and her body seemed to be comprised of nothing more than a rippling blackness over her bones. And in that swirling blackness, faces would sometimes seem to resolve: tormented, anguished faces. Brigitte thought she could hear their voices as the shadowstuffs passed through her ears and her shadow-flesh swam over her bones. She had a sense of purpose when she was in this graveyard, but what it was, she was not privvy to, nor did she question. She was here because she had to be here, because she was supposed to be here. She would protect these grounds because it was sacred until something told her otherwise.
At the moment, it was near dusk, and Brigitte could not be seen in the confines of the grounds, but that did not mean that she was not there. Sometimes, she would lie besides one of the ancient stones, seeming to be nothing more than a skeleton in a deep patch of shadow herself. The air was thick to the two forms that clung to the outskirts of the site. The night air felt charged with energy and every breath seemed to tingle at their lungs. There was no mistaking this land to their senses; it was sacred, and two sets of yellow eyes burned with curiousity.
Xibalba and Psyche both could easily trace their parentage to the mare who called this gravesite her home, and her blood showed strongly in the young stallion, Xibalba. Dark fur was imprinted with the visages of faces that never quite seemed exactly the same when you glanced back at them, and yet no one really could recall seeing them move. A swirling miasma of energy clung to his forehooves and seemed to fill his essence, occasionally streaming out through his nose or mouth. And a short, dark mane seemed to lift about as if in a wind.
 The other figure was a brilliant blue - a mare set alight with flickering flames. And while she seemed to bear few outward traits of her grandmother, her fascination with death could come from no other source. In her mouth she carried a string of hot peppers that they had discovered while wandering through the fields. She had told Xibalba about Brigitte's apparent affectation for them and today they planned on actually facing her.
"Are you certain that she's here?" Xibalba pressed in a whisper.
"No." Psyche responded bluntly. "You never can tell. I've never seen her come or go, but sometimes she's here, and sometimes she's not. Who knows where she goes, though." She added, fascination charging each word as if she were speaking of some mythical creature. "I used to watch her a lot, you know. From a distance. I don't know if she didn't see me or just didn't care, though."
"Did you ever speak with her?" Xibalba asked.
"I... tried once." Psyche admitted. "But I guess after I heard from mother, who said that when she had tried to go see once her she nearly got her head bitten off, I decided that discretion was perhaps more in order."
"Oh." Xibalba added, a little taken aback. How mad was this mare that was his mother? He had never seen her, only herd tell of her from his half-sister, Megaera, and her daughter Psyche who had been his best friend growing up. He was now no longer a foal, and she had finally agreed to take him to see his mother. "What did she say?"
"I didn't say that she responded." Psyche pointed out. "But... when I called out a greeting to her, there was this awful noise. I realized I had stepped inside the graveyard, and then there was this strong of... well, words that I shouldn't repeat to you." She sighed. "As soon as I took a few steps back, and was out of the graveyard, she just... turned around and went about her wanderings, as if she had forgotten that I was there."
Xibalba scanned the graveyard, trying to make out any hint that she was there or not. "You know... if she is not here, I think I'd like to investigate..." Xibalba grinned, a strange insentisty behind his eyes as the colors swirled around his feet as if fanned.
Psyche had to pull herself away from staring at them. She had found the colt fascinating the moment he had emerged from his basket, and was eager to be fast friends with him. And she still found herself often lost staring at the faces in his hide or the energy that seemed to be alive. Sometimes, she would swear, she felt as if the faces on his fur were staring right back through her...
She shook her head quickly. "I ... am not sure if that is the best of ideas, Xibalba. I know that we have collected a lot together from other places... but Brigitte can be dangerous.."
"I'm not frightened!" Xibalba retorted.
"Well fine then," Psyche grinned. "You go first." She dared. Psyche, despite having had the main hand in raising Xibalba, was much more like a big sister than a mother.
And without protest, Xibalba lashed his thick tail and strode confidently into the graveyard without so much as a look back at Psyche. His hoofbeats were muffled against the soft, bare earth, and he walked slowly and curiously past the threshold . Something about this place seemed to pull at the young stallion. The energy about his hooves seemed to reach into the ground, making it difficult to lift his feet. There was some.... connection. Some recognition of ancient spirits that still inhabited this land.
He seemed drawn, pulled inwards. His eyes scoured the rocks until he was beside one that nearly dwarfed him. He stopped, eyes poring over it - he could see traces of characters. There certainly used to be writing on it... maybe... if he looked hard enough, he could make out...
"WHAT THE #!*$ BE YOU DOIN' HERE?!" A booming voice struck him as the shadows behind the stone began to move and take shape. "I will tear your teeth from your head to make me a new necklace!" A skeletal face now emerged from the darkness, eye sockets burning red with a dark energy from within. Her whole being seemed to pulse with rage, her shadowy sides forming howling faces that screamed silently. "I will-" And then, amazingly, Brigitte paused.
For a moment, a flicker of recognition echoed in her skull. Here, amongst the graves, was one of the places where Brigitte was most cognizant - although she was still a far cry from sane. But something about the stallion before her did not scream intruder like others. He seemed... right here. The essence around him sung along with the sounds she heard in her head. And beyond that... something... a flash. Colors? A skeletal face of a stallion. "Baro.." But like holding onto so much smoke, the name was gone from her before she had even finished uttering it. A deep pain, a loss... and this stallion. There was something missing. Then, without segue, she looked harder at XIbalba. "You... be missing you face." She whispered.
He was speaking, she saw his mouth moving, and his brow furrowed in confusion, but she wasn't listening. Not to him at least. Something else pulled at her attention. She reared, and struck out towards him with her hooves. HIs eyes widened but he did not move, and when her hooves struck, then hit the dirt at his feet. The earth that the miasmic energy of his seemed to pull towards. She struck twice, three times, and again until a ridge of bone was visible.
Psyche watched from the outskirts. What on earth was going on? Brigitte guarded the dead that rested here with her life. Why was she digging at the earth? What was burried there?
But if Brigitte even knew the answer, she did not explain until she leaned forward and took the bone in her own skeletal jaws and ripped it from the earth. For a moment, the rainbow energy seemed to be clinging to it. She shook it like a dog - revealing what may have been an equine skull at some point in time - but Age had taken its toll, eating away at some of the aspects. Although a straight, backwards facing horn, and long fanglike teeth could be seen still on it. And then, turning towards Xibalba, she paused for a moment. She knew it belonged. She knew he was missing without it. She tossed it towards him and then lashed out again with a front hoof, striking hard. She drove the skull onto Xibalba's face, but it did not crack. Instead that dark, swirling shadows around her hooves seemed to bind it harder. And as he let loose a scream in pain, his own energy seemed to fuse with hers, and the skull tightened... tightened...
Psyche was finally shaken from her staring when she watched Xibalba fall to the ground, energy swirling around his face and then Brigitte, stepped back, and then turned around as if distracted, and walked directly to the corner of the graveyard where she fell again into a pile. She found her way to her hooves and dashed into the graveyard. Amazingly, perhaps exhausted? who knew - Brigitte did not move. She dropped the peppers and seized Xibalba and proceeded to drag him out again.
*
*
*
"...balba.... Xibalba!" The words swam to his ears as if he was hearing them from a thousand miles away. "XIBALBA!" And then, finally, clear as a bell, his name shook him to consciousness. Golden eyes flared open beneath a bony mask and stared up at Psyche, who was poised over him, staring. Relief flooded her as she saw him wake again.
"Xibalba..? What did she do to you? Did she hurt you? I... I couldn't pull the bones off that she put on you, are you all right?"
Feeling half drugged, Xibalba rolled to his knees and took a deep breath. He could feel it on his face. He remembered the strange intensity, the purpose behind Brigitte's movements. The frenzied digging, the blow to his head. And now... he looked down at the differences in his shadow on the ground - "A precious gift." He whispered reverently.
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:01 pm
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Where the Underworld BreathesRP with Ethan and CricketOriginal RP located HERE
Original RP Link: Here
Sosiqui The soft green mountains had taken a suddenly sharp turn - one like nothing Cricket had ever seen. The slopes had grown steeper, and the only old path that they could take had led them into a mineral-encrusted valley from which steam billowed. She wasn't sure whether to be amazed or afraid of the sticky rotten-egg smell that roiled from simmering pools - but the pools, while far too hot to drink from, held astonishing colors in their depths. The earth under their hooves echoed, as if water was sloshing around below them. Like walking on a Kawani pottery jar.
Bemused, Cricket turned to Ethan. Their travel had been tinged with awkwardness, now - while they had been cheerful, the tone of their journey was not as it had been before that fateful night. She tried to ignore it, but it was there nevertheless. "Do they have things like this while you live? I've never heard of it." Her ears tipped back as a gust of wind brought more rotten-egg smell to them.
Sabin Duvert Ethan was amazed at how quickly the vibrant green of the scenery in which they had been traveling for the last few weeks seemed to melt suddenly into this barren valley. The shrubs and grasses that they had grown accustomed to were gone, replaced with cracked earth and the sparce yellow weed that seemed to barely cling to life. A few lichens smattered the exposed rocks. However, this land was ahead, and the sharp mountains to either side seemed less hospitable than this cracked earth, at least to him.
Ethan shook his head, the awkwardness of the journey since that night falling to the back of his mind as well as he looked at this strange land. "Never." He shook his head. "I've never seen anything like this before." He craned his neck to get a better look in one of the first pools that steamed with that ... unique scent. An ear flicked back for a moment.
"What do you think all this is?" He couldn't get over the odd sensation of the place as a whole. It was warmer here than the grasslands, even during the summer. The air seemed to ripple with heat, especially over the strange pools with the colorful bottoms. Ethan had enough good sense at least to presume that the water was not safe to drink.
Sosiqui "I have no idea. I've never heard about anything like this!" Cricket arched her neck to peer at a colorful pool without getting too close to the edge. "It's so colorful. Maybe this is where rainbows come from? But rainbows don't smell bad." She wrinkled her nose.
Suddenly, about twenty feet away, what had seemed to be just a funny mounded-up hole - like a normal mole-hill, only crusty and drippy with mineral deposits - let out an alarming burble. Then there was a hiss, followed up a gush of steaming water that shot straight up into the air, a temporary fountain. It only went six feet high, but that was enough to send Cricket squeaking backwards, her eyes wide. "It spat!"
Sabin Duvert Ethan chuckled at Cricket's suggestion about where rainbows came from, but at the sudden spluttering and the subsequent explotion of steaming water, Ethan backpedaled quickly, ears pressed flat against his head.
"What in the hell?!" The exclamation slipped out reflexively. HE stared at the column of stream as it blasted skywards. "Maybe... maybe you're right..." Ethan had to admit. Between the amazing colors in the water and the gout of water... maybe this WAS how rainbows formed. "It's nothing like the stories I heard, though. Unless the rainbows start in dead place like this and end with treasure... But I never would have thought that a cracked place like this would spawn a rainbow."
Carefully, hesitantly, Ethan edged closer to the font, ears pricked forward. It smelled like the pools - rotten eggs - and the hot water splattered his muzzle, but he didn't seem to pay the droplets any mind.
He pulled his head back and shook it as the strength behind the gout seemed to be dying down.
Sosiqui "Oh..." Maybe it wasn't that hot, after all? Cricket crept forward towards Ethan, but as the steam touched her she squealed and darted backwards with a skid of pebbles. "Ouch! That's hot! Ethan, are you okay?!" she stared, panting a little. That had scared her!
Sabin Duvert Ethan blinked in surprise as the steam scalded Cricket. "Are you okay?!" He quickly trotted up to her, looking at the angry, reddened patch of skin where her muzzle had gotten too close to the blast.
His brows furrowed in confusion. His muzzle had touched the spewing steam but not sustained such damage. "Yeah... yeah I'm fine. I mean, it stinks. But... no, my nose is fine."
Growing up away from human settlements, Ethan had never really experienced fires or heated water. Certainly, he could fully appreciate that some days were much hotter - or cooler - than others. But he'd never given a second thought to preferring the summer over the winter.
Sosiqui "No... I'm fine, it just scared me that it was so hot, all of a sudden..." Cricket peered at Ethan's skin. Not a burn, not a scald mark, not even any extra redness. Nothing! "How did you do that?"
Sabin Duvert Completely oblivious, Ethan shook his head with a confused look. "Do... what?" He pondered a moment, and then, in a feat of logic... leapt to the complete wrong conclusion.
"The spout? I didn't do that! It just happened!"
Sosiqui "No, no, not that," Cricket said, sticking her tongue out. "I meant stick your face in that hot water and not burn your muzzle off! Maybe it has something to do with your father, too... unless your mother could do that?"
Sabin Duvert Ethan blinked, the thought never having occurred to him previously. "I... guess so." He shook his head, bewildered. Ethan was of course not unfamiliar with the concept of burns. Plenty a cautionary story had been told by his mother about the dangers of fire, of the branding iron that was sometimes taken to the flank of a horse or other domesticated animal. But Ethan had not put two and two together in regards to the natural water spewing from the ground.
"No, I doubt mom would'a given me that." he continued, subdued. Another mark, even an invisible one, from his father.
He looked around the landscape, cautiously curious and returned to Cricket, pressing against her side. She could sense a protectiveness about him as he realized the potential danger to her.
His youthful, often puckish face was serious. "I wonder what kinda place this is... I don't see any bugs... any birds..."
Sosiqui "D'you think it's a bad place?" Cricket's ears tilted backwards, just a little. "But it's really pretty... and I don't see any predators or anything?" Another vent hissed and spat steam, and she gave it a careful look, not flinching away but certainly not getting any closer. "Water coming out of the ground, all hot and stinky and colorful...? I've never seen anything like that before."
Sabin Duvert "I dunno." Ethan admitted. "I've never even heard of any place like this b'fore. It IS pretty though. Not pretty like the places I've seen before at all." Ethan tentatively walked closer to one of the stagnant, stinky hot pools. The color that lined the basin was brilliant. But if this was where rainbows were from, where were they? The jets of hot water seemed uncolorful.
"This kinda place... you think it's gotta be for something. Other than smellin' bad and sprayin' water....? I don't think rainbows would come from a place like this."
Sosiqui "I don't think it's a bad place. Bad places are ugly and smell... er... well, this place smells, but not the same way?" There was a trace that ambled among the geysers and pools, and Cricket tentatively moved forward along it, her tail swishing back and forth. "This place isn't ugly, it's just... weird. And there's no grass. I don't think anything lives here..." Maybe they should turn back, but this journey was about exploring, wasn't it? Taking a closer look at what lay ahead couldn't hurt, could it?
Sabin Duvert "I dunno. Maybe it's a diff'rent kinda bad?" Ethan murmured as he stepped alongside Cricket. His curiousity was obviously piqued as well as he wandered forward and sniffed at a strange mound of bubbling mud. He snorted, his tail flipping to and fro.
"I wonder what lies on the other side... or if this place leads somewhere." This strange place lent an electricity to their journey - truly making it feel more like the adventure that had until recently felt like an awkward hike after their ... awkward discussion.
Sosiqui "Then let's go," Cricket said, with a decisive nod. "Maybe the pools that make the rainbows are a little further on, huh?" She trotted ahead, placing her hooves carefully, but the trace stayed a decent distance from the scalding pools.
It wound upwards after a bit, and the rocks became softened, waterfalls of stone carved by long mineral drips. "Wow..." Cricket stared and stopped, her skin twitching as the breeze blew some steam past her. "This place is just full of weird stuff." But still no grass or plants, except for a few high up clinging to the ridge.
Sabin Duvert
Ethan pressed on beside Cricket, his attention snared first by one colorful bloom in the water, and then by the strange, almost partially melted-looking rocks. Each time he glanced there was something new he had never seen or imagined. His attention was being pulled from one to another, and his close proximity to Cricket began to waver as his attention was snagged to and fro.
The cloying heat seemed to be more prevalent here as the steam wafted among the pair, even as visable as fog in some patches of extreme heat and humidity. And yet, Ethan did not seem bothered. Just as curious and shinied as Cricket, if not more so.
"I know!" Ethan echoed as he stuck his nose rather close to another burbling pool with a striking aqua patch at the bottom. "Do ya think anything at all lives here?"
Sosiqui "I haven't seen anythin- ack!" The ground trembled under their hooves - not hard, but more than enough to startle, for someone who had never felt an earthquake before. "What was that?!" When the shaking stopped, she stomped on the ground experimentally, to make sure it wasn't going to do that again.
Sabin Duvert Steam condensed on Ethan's skin, coating him with a thin layer of moisture. As he strode across the cracked, scorched earth his flanks glistened. Every nervous muscle twinge as he hesitated under a crack in the ground was accentuated by his damp fur that clung tightly to him.
When the ground began to rumble, it was everything Ethan could do to keep from spooking. His ears pressed back and he pressed against Cricket's side. It seemed as if this barren stretch of land was shaking with fury at the presence of these two intruders. It had defeated all life that may have once been here, and it was trying to stake its claim.
"I... I don't know." Ethan found his voice to respond. "It's like we're not s'posed to be here. Do you think... something lives here? Hidden in the earth? Or is it the ground itself?"
Sosiqui "Maybe it's spirits, like the two-legger... shamer?" Cricket's ears flicked back. "Whatever that thing is. When they dance in circles and talk about spirits.... er. Have you ever seen a two-legger?" She tilted her head at him, curious - and completely changing the subject.
Sabin Duvert "Shamer?" Ethan inquired with a temulous voice. "I... haven't seen any myself. But my mom, she said she had a human once. She rode with them on this great tree across the ocean with other soquili and humans. She said it was a long, hard trip without very much food... her lifemate died on the way here." Ethan was not at all opposed to the shift in conversation. Something about this place set his hair on end, and even the depressing topic distracted him from the hissing and bubbling and strange smells. After all, he had never known his mom's lifemate.
Sosiqui "A tree across the ocean?" Cricket blinked, faintly awed. "That must have been the most gigantic tree in the world!"
A nearby bubbling patch of earth belched a plume of wet, stinky steam, and Cricket made a face. "Ewwwww. This place might be kind of pretty, in a weird way, but it sure doesn't smell good at all." Maybe we should go b-"
The ground trembled under Cricket's hooves, more violently this time, and several of the geysers went off in hissing unison as if prompted by the movement. But it also prompted something else. High up on the steep hillside, some rocks were disturbed just so. Though it was out of sight of the two Soquili, the hillside of scree began to move with a rattle and finally a crash as the entrance to the strange gorge was shut off. Dust swished past them along with sound.
"... Um. I don't think that was good." Cricket's ears tipped back.
Sabin Duvert
"That's what I thought." Ethan agreed. "I never saw it, but if mom said so, it's gotta be true. She said that there were dozens of humans and soquili on board, and that it took almost a season to travel."
Ethan's narrative slowed to a halt as the tremor began to shake the ground. It seemed as if he might be on a giant tree or something that wasn't quite properly attached to the rest of the ground. His ears flattened and he pressed against Cricket's side again as he looked to and fro.
Ethan gulped, then coughed as the dust clouded his vision and stung his eyes and throat. "What... what just happened? What did we do?" He asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
Sosiqui Cricket turned and crept back along the trace they had followed to get this far, but soon had to stop - the dust and angry steam from the geysers was too much, and she began to cough violently. She backed away in a hurry, shaking her head and swishing her tail to clear the air. "I... don't think we can go that way anymore..."
They couldn't go back? They couldn't go... home?
She had always used that as her lifeline - she could go home, she could always go home.
Cricket shivered. "This was a bad, bad idea," she said, her voice shaky.
Sabin Duvert "Nuh... Naw, that.... that can't be right." Ethan nickered despite the fact that the rockslide had very obviously covered the path they had used in. Only now did Ethan see that the pathway between the craggy mountains had been so narrow. Only now did he see how steep those cliffs looked that seemed to fence the pair inside. It was like the land itself had set this trap for the two of them.
"We... we didn't know." Ethan spoke up again in a small voice. "And there's gotta be another way out of here. Maybe further in... There's no such thing as a place you can get in but not out of." He tried to sound secure in that statement, even though he had just made that up.
Only now did the sulfurous air seem chokingly hot and the valley claustrophobic...
Sosiqui "Right, right," Cricket said, hurriedly. There wasn't any grass here, no water that wasn't steaming hot or smelly... no, no, don't think about that. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Well. Let's... keep going, I guess." Ahead of them the thin, gravelly trace wound upwards, becoming a trail more suited to mountain goats than Soquili.
Sabin Duvert Forward, forward. Hoof by hoof. There was no reason to think of backtracking - that was was gone, closed. There HAD to be a way out. Ethan had never known confinement or stables or corrals like some soquili. He couldn't imagine there being such a place that one couldn't get away from. The stories of the 'boat' were so intangible to the young stallion - even when his mother had told him of those that had perished along the way. He could not relate to the concepts... until now. Certainly, winter sometimes made food hard to find, and he knew the feeling of an aching belly, but that was different...
"Exactly..." Ethan forced a smile. "We'll make it!" we have to....
Ethan carefully picked his way along the trail, finding the need to test his weight on some parts of the trail that was littered with small stones that wanted to move out from under him. Ethan didn't want to think about the reasons they had seen no other sign of life in this hellish place.
Sosiqui "Too bad I don't have wings like Euterpe," Cricket sighed, picking her way very slowly along the path behind Ethan, pausing every time the gravel shifted or even rattled in a funny way. "She could just go straight up and zoom out. Easy." The trail wound up and outwards ahead of them, over craggy rocks. It was faint, but it never disappeared completely. Someone - something - had kept it traveled, worn it into the rock. "It has to go somewhere, otherwise there wouldn't be a trail at all," she pointed out. She wasn't looking forward to coming back down this way if there wasn't.
Sabin Duvert "Yeah... I know what'cha mean." Ethan sighed as he carefully edged further up the narrow trail. He'd been fascinated by the winged soquili that he had encountered, and he had to admit more than a touch of envy. How amazing it would be to be able to explore the lands from the vantage of the birds. Or... be able to get himself out of this crag...
"Y... yeah! You're right! Something had to make this trail. And use it enough to make it." Cricket's observation lent strength to Ethan's legs as he cantered ahead a few paces, but small stones skittering under his hooves nearly causing him to slip. Barely catching himself, he continued at a more reserved pace.
Sosiqui "Be careful!" Cricket yelped, a little more loudly than she meant to; her whinny echoed around the tiny valley. Though nothing happened in response, the mare shrank inward a little bit from the repeated sound of her own voice. "Be careful," she repeated, more quietly, her voice a bit shaky this time. Her steps forward were very tentative and slow, and she winced every time a few stones clattered away from her hooves. "I hope this path isn't a very long one..."
Sabin Duvert Ethan's ears flattened back and he locked his legs, skidding a snort distance on the loose stones. His eyes widened and his tail thrashed back and forth when he finally slid to a stop.
Color rose to his cheeks and his eyes darted backwards in obvious embarassment. After swallowing down that salty lump in the back of his throat, he stammered, "Th... thanks." With a wince at Cricket.
"He sighed, once again flanking Cricket. Being next to her felt... safer. Even if technically matching hoofbeats with her might add weight to the tenuous path. "It can't be much further." He added as a rather tacked-on cover to steer the subject away from his awkwardness.
Sosiqui "No," Cricket agreed, and even though it might have been silly and more dangerous having Ethan right next to her, so close that their flanks brushed lightly from time to time when they moved, it did calm her down. She sighed and raised her head higher, then pricked her ears upwards as a cool breeze washed down over them both, the first such gust since entering the steamy, sulferous valley.
Though the trace narrowed and thinned to barely a whisper, there was enough left, and Cricket surged up the hillside - and then, at last, there was the crest, and a small flattened plateau at the top, lined in hardy evergreen bushes. The air was cool and sweet and fresh, and the view...
Cricket stared. "It's so beautiful..."
Below them, the mountains folded down into another plain, with forests here, rolling hills there, a river, and the glint of vast water in the distance. To either side the mountain range stretched like the back of a great snake, a dividing line between the known and the unknown.
Sabin Duvert The skittering of the rocks underhoof and foreboding crackling sound as he shifted weight step after step somehow seemed less intimidating with Cricket right there by his side. Despite the sweltering heat of the canyon, he could feel the warmpth of her flanks as she kept pace with him. He risked a small shy smile towards her as they scaled the narrow pathway.
And then, as they crested the top of the ridge, Ethan's breath caught in his throat. The wet air from the steam pockets must have gotten in his eyes, because they seemed to mist over and cloud for a moment.
"Ah never knew it would look so pretty." He murmured. He waited a moment before continuing. "I... didn't want to say it, but I was pretty scared that we wouldn't find a way out." He sighed, looking out at the straight stretch of land before them. Now, it seemed, it was safe enough to finally say what had been gripping him for so long. Now it seemed as if the words couldn't hurt him any more.
And then, before the words spoiled the moment, he smiled genuinely. "Look at it! Look at the... that must be the sea!" He leaned forward, squinting at the solid line of blue past the hills and forests. "Or... or at least a really big lake!"
Sosiqui "The sea... maybe we could get on a tree and float across it, like you said," Cricket said, then giggled. All the tension flowed out of her, and she let herself slump to lay on the ground, folding her legs under her - oh, how good it felt to not be stiff-legged with fear, moving in slow, tense movements lest her next step be her undoing! There was a path down from here, a gap in the bushes, that meandered down the foothills. It was wider and much better maintained than the trace they'd followed from the stinking valley. Perhaps the two-leggers came up here; she could see their teepees below here and there, spots of color against green fields.
Sabin Duvert With a sigh of relief, Ethan flopped down next to Cricket. Actual grass, clean air that didn't seem to stick to the insides of his ribs. For now, they could rest before continuing their journey. They were safe.
For just a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the crisp breeze tussle his mane. He could smell the flowers growing in the fields, and a hint of cloying smoke from the strange conical dwellings. All of the tension seemed to wash over him. While the trek through the hellish valley and rocky incline was stressful and more frightening than he would admit, things seemed more relaxed than before they entered. He felt closer to his companion whereas before there had been that tension since that one night.
Ethan's eyes slid back open and a broad, genuine smile slid across his face. "Mebbe." he chuckled. "I never saw one for mah self... or a human for that matter. Mom let hers go after she got here." His ears tilted forward as he looked over the cluster of teepees and the distant waters. "I wonder what they're like. Have you met one before? Or if the soquili here are any diff'rent than the ones on the other side of that ... place."
Sosiqui Cricket let out a long breath and breathed in the sweet air, then unconsciously shifted her weight so she leaned against Ethan. "The two-legger village by our meadow was kinda nice, I guess. The little two-leg colts and fillies would come out and leave us food sometimes, and watch us from the bushes. I knew a few of the Soquili that lived there and wore the two-legs' tack. They were nice too." She shrugged. "I didn't know them all that well since they often had to do things for the two-legs."
She was quiet for another moment as another gust brought the same lovely scents to her nostrils. "I guess we should go down, but I don't want to get up," she said, with a chuckle. There was a rock poking her in the ribs, but even that was so much better than where they'd just come from...
Sabin Duvert Ethan shifted his weight a bit and let out a satisfied whicker. The stress was gone, and suddenly the frightening trip through the valley was now a chapter in his grand adventure. An easy grin was soon to follow. "They sound neat." Ethan mused. "Momma said that her two-legger made my blanket for her a long time ago, though I never did get to meet him. Maybe we'll get to see some."
Ethan also was in no hurry to move. "We could just... rest here. I mean, we did just survive a great adventure. Or at least a part of one! We could head down there tomorrow, see who we can find! Maybe the soquili here have heard of muh dad. And... maybe we can go see the water!"
Sosiqui "Sounds perfect," Cricket said with a yawn, settling her head down against Ethan's shoulder. "But I think I wanna nap a little bit before doing any more... mountain climbing. Even if it's going down." She had no thoughts of any romantic moments, not now. She was too tired as the adrenaline ebbed. |
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:01 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:01 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:01 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:02 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:02 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:02 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:02 pm
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Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2013 2:02 pm
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RebelliousRP between Firestorm and Balrog 
Firestorm's hooves were poised at the very edge of the ledge, his neck stretched way out as he peered down, down down down at the green valley far below. A chill wind swirled over the cliffs, ruffling his long mane as he grinned down at the specs that he knew were his aunts, uncles, and cousins. They looked so tiny down there, grazing on the grass that was already turning brown with the changing weather. His now-large wings were poised, half extended and helping him balance, but the rush of the cold air through them was wonderful - almost as great as actually flying with them. He lifted a front hoof dangling it over the ledge as well, considering the drop down and whether it would be possible to catch the breeze before he hit the ground, and the expression on Maelstrom's face if he were to buzz her....
"FIRESTORM!" Balrog's voice caught the young stallion like a crash of thunder. "What in the name of the spirits do you think you are doing?" Balrog stormed up on his son with his ears pinned back and a flare of red visable in his nostrils."
Firestorm casually turned around, a laid back smirk on his face. By now, he had gotten used to Balrog's "angry voice", and he wasn't scared. At least he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. "Daaa~aad. C'mon! Chill out! I know what I'm doing! I'm a great flier - you know that. Just like all the family." He finished with more than a hint of sarcasm. "What's the point of wings if you don't Test them?"
"You are still young, Firestorm, and I am your father. You would not be the first hotheaded young stallion who overestimated his abilites. If there is not the right updraft then you can still plummet to the ground before you can catch yourself."
Firestorm let out a belabored sigh. "I know, father."
He'd heard this speach before. For as much pride as his father had in him, he certainly didn't seem to have much confidence in him. He was grown now! While maybe he wasn't quite as big as Balrog (yet) his wings were fully developed. He could fly for hours, he'd chased cougars out of the territory before. He'd heard praise from Balrog before, he'd heard criticism. But always so seeerious! Balrog always acted like everything was a matter of life and death. He was quick to point out flaws, and quick to lapse into a rant about the imprtance of this, or the dangers of that. Frankly, Firestorm was bored of it. The last interesting thing that had happened was months ago, when he was still a gawky foal. That rabbit-hunt with the strange filly that challenged him. He had gotten into a lot of trouble with that with Balrog when he had eventually gone home and asked why he hadn't been taught to hunt yet. He guessed that that made sense why it tasted so strange to him, but still... he still had dreams sometimes about that rush of excitement and fear as he chased down the rabbit with more of an intention than to just pin it. And why did that filly seem to get so much enjoyment out of the taste?
All the other soquili in the herdgrounds were old hat to him now. Most of them were related in some fashion or another. He'd heard Balrog's lessons, Storm Wild's advise. He was the golden child of the herd, he knew that. So what? The pride and joy of a herd that hung out and ate grass all day. That flew over the same skies. That chatted with each other about how much better they all were than all the poor ground soquili. Well, Firestorm was better, he certainly wouldn't argue that. But what was the point of being better if you didn't DO something with it? There was energy in his muscles that wasn't sated with just flying. The herdgrounds that had once seemed huge to the foal was now constrictive. He was bored. Things were so easy, so routine....
"But... father, I'm grown now! I can take care of myself!"
Firestorm and Balrog had more in common than either realized. But where Firestorm wanted to get out - to see and experience and to test himself against the world, Balrog was proud of the herd that he had gathered. All of the best and finest blood, all now soquili who agreed with him - who knew the strength of those that were gifted with wings. He had fought for this herd, fought to make it his dream. And now that he had it, he felt at a loss of what was next. He had called out a challenge to the spirits themselves for a challenge to this powerful herd, and nothing. His charges were happy, they were healthy, and they were having foals to be proud of. And now Firestorm - his son - his winged and horned son - was grown and reminded Balrog so much of himself as a young stallion. He was everything he could hope for - and his pride showed to everyone. Balrog did not disguise his favor. Finally, a son to be proud of.
But he and the others had been growin content - used to the daily routine. But while Balrog was now an older stallion, he felt unfulfilled. He had had this great vision that he had achieved, but he felt now empty. That drive that he gotten him to this point now sputtered and sought new direction. A challenge. Something to truly make his mark on the future. Storm Wild would probably be horrified by those thoughts, but Balrog could not help thinking it, nor would he feel sorry for them. He did not have the youthful wander lust any more, but were a challenge to face his herd, he was confident that they could stand the test.. if... there were such a challenge.
He.... could prove to himself that this was the herd that he had meant to be a part of all along. Not like when he was Firestorm's age...
But Firestorm didn't appreciate the strength of his herd. He took it for granted. He was born after the fissure of the strong from the weak. He was born after they had gathered their numbers to form a powerful, proud herd. He was born after they had found the lush grazing grounds high in the mountains. He had all of his father's fire, but nothing to burn. And he was beginin to get an attitude - even towards his own father.
"You are strong, Firestorm, but your strength is defined by the strenth of your family, your herd. The world is a hard place." Balrog responded sternly.
A grunt was Firestorm's flippant response. Another speech he had heard before. Well, how would he get harder if he didn't experience it himself? If he just lazed aroudn the herdgrounds then he would get soft as well. He looked over his shoulder at Balrog again, then, flippantly, he shot him an irreverant grin and steppped over the edge of the cliff. Balrog wouldn't tell him what to do!
His stomach lurched and the wind was all around him. He felt so alive! The ground was rushing up at him like a charging buffalo - and then, probably a hundred feet from the ground, his wings snapped open against the wind, veering him sharply away from the ground. Shrill whinnies from below reached his ears and somewhere back on the wind he could hear Balrog's angry bellows. THAT was living. |
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