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 Posted: Sun Jan 12, 2014 4:27 pm
 Ciaradh had a reputation amongst the members of the Burning Sun Clan. If it was a reputation for anything else--levelheadedness, wisdom, strength, calm--he would have been commendable. Unfortunately, it was a reputation for obsession, violent outbursts, general rebelliousness, and, worst of all, a romantic sensibility. Head-in-the-clouds daydreaming was alright if a star could turn it off--Llewelyn could turn it off. Laminira could turn it off. Ciaradh's grandfather Mintos could turn it off. But Ciaradh could not. And being a romantic was even worse if it was paired with a love of battle. Ciaradh was a berserker. And that had most of his clan worried.
He had been obsessed with his little sister ever since she'd been kidnapped by his Shadow Herd father when they were foals. Ciaradh didn't even know her name--he had been named soon after birth, but she, alas, had not. He still remembered what she looked like, though. Brilliant green. Purple hair. Beautiful. Utterly beautiful. He was offended whenever someone suggested, purposefully or by accident, that he was in love with her. Ciaradh was not in love with his sister. He loved her, certainly, even after all these years, even though he had not seen her since they were foals. But he didn't want to be her mate, or have any relationship like that. He just wanted to rescue her, to reunite her with his family, to see his sister every day. He would do anything to get her back.
Maybe that was why he was staring into the woods on the eastern border of the Sunflare territory. The thick, tangled woods of the Shadow Herd were dark and foreboding. But just last night, he'd seen a shooting star dart across the sky from east to west, seeming to come from the direction of this drear forest. He took it as a sign. Today, he would meet his sister again.elfstar89 Like seriously. Can I have Irishstorm's babies? She's so gorgeous!
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 7:32 pm
 Irishstorm had gone scouting. No official missions today, beyond just a desire to train somewhere private. Besides, if an accident was going to occur to upset the Line of Succession, she wanted to be ready and waiting when the opportunity arose. After all, Prince Belenus wasn't officially crown prince, and could lose his rank just as easily to his own offspring as to his yet unborn half siblings. Extra chaos wouldn't go amiss, from what she'd heard by eavesdropping on Fire Duke Plamen von Hoelle.
And thus it was, that she was patrolling the ever-popular Sunflare-Shadow border. Besides, famous incidents had happened in the vicinity, and being a war hero might help her be positioned quite neatly later on. Peering around beyond the woods that marked her herd's territory, she spotted him. Her brother. The one who'd stayed with their other father in the Sunflare. Ciaradh. The intensity of his pale gaze didn't really faze her or worry her. After all, the rest of the military Stars in the Shadow were varying forms of weird and crackpot. But the idea that he might have such an obsession with his long-lost sister to the point where it could be potentially creepy had never occurred to her, and probably wouldn't even after talking with him for a few minutes.
What did cross her mind was the repeated instances of suave political misdeeds that had happened in this vicinity numerous times, including by Queen Blodeuwedd herself and the queen's missing father. And the idea of messing with her innocent brother was too tempting to resist. Irishstorm stepped out, flicking her Arcturus tail and tossing her violet mane, letting a finely polished sheen catch the light as she strolled out, apparently totally unconcerned about seeing a kinsman here. From the looks of it, none of the rest of the Sunflare, let alone all their various royal kinfolk, were anywhere nearby.(OOC: We shall see what we shall see.)
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Posted: Sun Jan 19, 2014 8:55 pm
Aquarius be praised! As the star had predicted, emerging from the tangled mass of the Shadow forest like a dream, no, a goddess, a Sign came the mare, just as elegant and even more radiantly beautiful than her brother had imagined her to be. May all the spirits of this world and all others be praised for this miracle! A happy, dopey smile grew on Ciaradh's face and he charged towards his half-arcturus sister. The sun glinted off of her silky mane and her skin seemed to glow from within. Ciaradh heard harp music, he swore he did!
Reunited at last! "Sister!" he cried out in joy. His pale eyes were wide with undiluted joy as he tried to nuzzle his sister's lovely face. "Sister, it's been so long! What did they name you? Never mind, it's not important, I'm so glad you're back!" Wait, there was no way the Shadow would let her go so easily. He glanced over her shoulder towards the forest beyond. "Did anyone follow you?" he asked anxiously. "Don't worry, I won't let them get you. I'll protect you, you don't need to be afraid."
Nereocystis was fond of saying that Ciaradh had eyes like a dandelion puff. He had no idea what it meant. Unbeknownst to him, it meant that when he was all a-flutter he missed certain vital clues. Like Irishstorm's cold, imperious gaze, her complete lack of joy at seeing him, and the toned muscles under her skin that came from a lifetime of training under an unsatisfiable boss. He was too happy to notice quibbling details that didn't match his view of reality. His view of reality was the only one he needed, no one else's. Reality could go shove itself.
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Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2014 3:04 pm
Irishstorm was surprised at the sudden, elated charge of her brother and the almost forceful, childlike nuzzling that ensued. A flicker of irritation crossed her face. This was her brother. Ciaradh. The sheltered one. Maybe Stormlight-Da should've taken Ciaradh with when he came for Irishstorm that night so long ago. Made him less of a fluffy pansy.
But she did notice the toned muscles and power coursing through him. Physically strong, emotionally fragile. Great combo. Unfortunately, Irishstorm didn't have much experience dealing with such Stars as equals. After all, Death General Retinadeath was supposed to be very emotionally delicate, too, but Irishstorm would probably always be too rookie to interact with her as an equal.
While pondering what to do next with care, she put on a carefree mask. "No one followed me here." She'd have tried to find a way to thrash them quietly if they had. "I know I don't need to be afraid." No candidate for Death Knight should be afraid. Especially if that candidate wanted to be in a position to be very powerful in a very evil herd, beyond even being a Death Knight. "Our other da calls me Irishstorm."
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Posted: Sun Jun 01, 2014 5:26 pm
Irishstorm. Ciaradh tried the name out, first in his mind, then out loud. "Irishstorm. That...does sound like a name he might pick. No matter. Your name is your name, and it is yours to keep. Irishstorm, please, let me show you our old home. You can stay for as long as you'd like." He hoped she would stay forever. In fact, scratch that--she would stay forever. If the Shadow wanted her back, then tough luck. He would fight them for it. He was not a pushover. He could fight with the best of them. He had something to fight for, and he would fight to the death for it--against anyone at all, even the Death General herself.
"It hasn't changed very much, truth to tell. Still as beautiful as always. Not as beautiful as you, but not a lot is." He wrapped his wing around his sister's shoulder and led the way deeper into Sunflare territory. His mind was bright and racing with possibilities and thoughts. Not useful thoughts, but a few of them nonetheless.
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Posted: Fri Oct 24, 2014 12:23 pm
Irishstorm felt the tug of her brother's wing around her, dragging her deeper into enemy territory. Shrugging inwardly, she followed him, ready to do a bit of constructive spying while she was here to see what was what, and if she could mess with Ciaradh's head. Odds were good that one of the Chaos Dukes or the Death General or the Queen herself would find her spying beneficial.
On the other hoof, given the pushy gestures of affection, Irishstorm was starting to get the darkling inkling that the best way to get away from her brother might involve sneaking off, or, worse, fighting her way out, which would blow her cover. Sticky, and too soon to leave. Well, she could always pray to Ophiuchus and the dark spirits of her Shadow father that sneaking out would be a viable option.
In the meantime, as these thoughts roiled beneath the surface, Irishstorm smiled a false smile, as her brother twittered on emptily about the Sunflare, and creepily about his beautiful sister.
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Posted: Fri Mar 24, 2017 3:32 pm
Nothing could ruin this day--absolutely nothing. It had been a long, long time since last Ciaradh had seen his sister. He couldn't remember what she was like--wistful? Was that it? She'd certainly always seemed to be looking for something else, some other thing, as if she felt unfulfilled. He hoped that she felt better now--or that she would now that she was home. He didn't like the thought that she might still be feeling empty. After all, he knew--perhaps better than anyone else in the herd--how it felt to feel empty inside, as though there was a part missing.
"What have they had you do in there?" Ciaradh asked, flicking his tail towards the forest. He looked her over again. She was smiling--good. He wanted to make her happy. But his own thoughts about what she used to be like was slowly casting a pall on this best of days. "You always seemed to be looking for something, when we were...younger," he said softly. I hope you never found it in there. "Maybe you can still find it here?"
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Posted: Thu Mar 30, 2017 10:56 am
Wistful certainly was not the description Irishstorm or Stormlight would've used for the young filly who'd been spirited away in the dead of night. Curious, bored, and restless would all apply, but not wistful. All facts that Irishstorm would not apply to what was happening now until much later.
Ooof. Tough question. How best to answer such a sticky question, without giving away the whole shooting match? She flicked her Arcturus tail as she considered her options. "Nothing terribly much, some training, certainly, but that's such a fixture of life in the borderlands, now isn't it, brother mine?" Good. Vague answer. Truthful, and hopefully one that would coax some secrets out of her weirdly obsessive brother. It might not be that hard to mess with him, the way he seemed to be behaving toward her.
"You know, I can't recall," Irishstorm lied. She knew what she'd been looking for. She just hadn't cared in a very long time. She had, of course, found it the night the Other Parent, as Stormlight was sometimes still called in her thoughts, had taken her out of the Sunflare. Mystery solved, case closed, and Irishstorm was content with the state of affairs. Time to move on with her life...and maybe not give Ciaradh an opening to keep her here, if her instincts were right, and he really did have a sister-complex.
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Posted: Thu May 18, 2017 5:00 pm
Well, at least there was something that Ciaradh had in common with his sister? They had both been trained, yes, so they had something they could bond with each other over. Yes. He had to focus on that. Honestly, though, he was...
Well, he was...disappointed?
It hit him like a lightning bolt to the chest to realize that. She had had training. He looked her over again, this time paying attention. How had he not noticed her musculature? How had he not noticed how strong she was? She was graceful, to be sure, but it was not a grace born out of...whatever he'd thought before, but the easy movement of a well-muscled star. And confident, too. She was moving with a confidence that he hadn't noticed before. She isn't weak, he realized. She's strong. She's a fighter. A warrior, maybe even.
No, that couldn't be it. If she was a fighter, she would have scars, wouldn't she? They could be on the other side of her body, his treacherous thoughts pointed out. They could be somewhere I can't see. Or maybe...she doesn't have scars because...Because she's vain...? She might not be. She might not be obsessed with her own looks. But, hurt and confused as Ciaradh suddenly was, he was beginning to realize:
His sister was not who he thought she was. She was not a damsel in distress, waiting for her brother to rescue her. She was a warrior. And a warrior in a place they didn't want to be could fight their way out. She hadn't, so...
So she was the enemy. A Shadow warrior. The lightning bolt to his chest turned into a frigid cold. Irishstorm was not his sister, but an enemy, and one he had come so very close to leading into the heart of his home territory. He swallowed his anger and his betrayal and kept his face looking as, as gormless as it must have been before. Tricky, cunning, false... He had been so stupid, and so naive, as well! "Training," he said. "Yes, I'm beginning to think everyone's getting training these days! Things are just so...violent!" he said. "I wish we could stop this fighting. Don't you, Irishstorm? Wouldn't it be nice if we could be happy again? Brother and sister, together? Then we could be a family together! Oh, you have to join us!" he said, his voice as enthusiastic--and innocent--as could be. "Then you don't ever have to worry about danger ever again. The Shadow will never be able to hurt you, ever!"
Shadows only hurt light. They don't hurt each other. Ciaradh wondered how the rest of the herd would react to his taking a prisoner, even one as unimportant in the structure of the Shadow as his former sister (if she was high-ranking, he would surely have heard about it by now?).
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Posted: Thu May 18, 2017 7:12 pm
Irishstorm thought she saw something strange flicker across her brother's face. But then, seconds later, it was gone, and he was as soppy-looking as he had been before. Or was he? Had this idiot figured it all out? What could have ticked him off?
Damn. He had eyed her more carefully for a brief moment when his face had gone strange. For the damsel in distress Ciaradh probably thought her to be, Irishstorm looked too much of a fighter. Not scarred, much, but that was because Irishstorm prided herself on her fighting abilities, and never picking a fight she didn't have good odds of winning. Yes, selfish, and potentially unchallenged, but also not possessed of a death wish. And the half-Arcturus did push herself from time to time in a fight, but she hated defeat, too.
Which meant that her plans would have to be stepped up. No time for spying now. Probably no great opportunity for it, either. But, on the other hand...if Ciaradh had indeed realized the truth, at least he was likely hurt to the core. Not necessarily the intended form of pain, but still a form of damage to her brother.
The next words out of Ciaradh's mouth cemented it. It was time to get out now, while the getting was good.
Irishstorm shrugged as innocently as she could, different escape methods running through her mind. "I wouldn't know, the borderlands seem the same as they ever have." Which was true, since skirmishes were quite rare between the two highly antagonistic herds. "And I don't know how the fighting would end, anyway," she continued lightly.
Aaaand he wanted to have a fluffy family reunion where it sounded like he wanted to lock her down. Definitely time to pick the best scenario. Deceit and running for it would have to do, possibly with some violence, if push came to shove.
"That does sound...ideal. But, first, there's something I've always wanted to do, brother mine. Would you care for a little race, first? Just the two of us. No wings, no violence, to the base of the next valley up along the border?" she suggested innocently. Which, if she'd trained well enough, could offer two ways out: either throw the race, let Ciaradh have his little victory, and disappear once he was distracted or out of sight; or push as hard and fast as possible, get out of sight, and get back into the trees before Ciaradh could stop her.
The trees of the Shadow, where Ciaradh would have trouble tracking her with any speed. After all, it was well known that the lands of the Sunflare were open valleys, good for flight, but the Shadow's woods were too thick in most places to allow for any great usage of wings. Lyrae did exist in the herd, but they didn't always have a lot of room for flight.
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Posted: Thu May 18, 2017 8:57 pm
Now that Ciaradh knew that they were playing a game, he knew what the game was--and what the rules were. Deceit was the name of the game. Irishstorm was going to attempt to flee from him, returning to her home in the Shadow.
Ciaradh was no less determined to keep her here than he had been when he didn't know she was lying to him. And fair enough--she had lied to him, now it was his turn to return the favor. That was something that had always rankled him about the Sunflare herd. They were never going to make any progress against the Shadow herd, against wiping them off the face of the earth, if they continued to be so...nice. If they continued to give their enemies the same freedoms that their enemies would not give them. We'll never win so long as we just keep running all the time.
No violence, eh?
Without hesitation, Ciaradh nodded. "Of course, dear sister!" He flicked his tail as if embarrassed. "I've always dreamed about getting to run with you again." He folded his wings flat against his body and stretched his legs. He had a plan in mind. Would it work? He had no idea, but it was worth a try. He kept himself looking eager, like a stupid baby bunny. "On the count of three, right? One...two...three!"
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Posted: Tue May 30, 2017 6:50 pm
Irishstorm wasn't sure what was going on behind his eyes. But some of the stupid baby bunny stuff was probably gone, even if he wasn't showing much, if any, of that stupid baby bunny in front of a slavering wolf look.
Irishstorm tensed up as they prepared, muscles prepared for the bunch and release of an explosive gallop. Even if she had no intentions of winning, even if it was probable that Ciaradh knew what was going on, it was still appropriate for her to act as though she cared about winning this little race. Though, after a fashion, it was a true race--albeit a race to get away from her creepy, dumb baby bunny of a brother.
She flicked her tail, as though in eagerness, but just managed to hide the snap of impatience in the gesture. Ciaradh gave the signal, and Irishstorm leapt forward, cloven purple hooves cutting into the dirt of the hills as she moved forward with the easy grace of the average Dark Knight, which was, to tell the truth, one that practiced and trained and drilled every day. Not slow, but, compared to a proper competition that Irishstorm actually cared about, still not giving maximal effort. Not until she knew the pace Ciaradh would set.
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Posted: Wed Dec 04, 2019 11:17 pm
Interesting. She was much faster than he would have expected for a Star that grew up in thick brush and woodland. Here in Sunflare territory there was plenty of space to stretch your legs and race around the hillsides, but he wouldn't have thought you could run very far in the forest without running headlong into a tree.
The mental image of someone powerful--like Blodeuwedd, or Retinadeath, crashing headfirst into a tree was actually quite amusing. Ciaradh let himself grin a little at the thought as he watched his sister. He was going to give her a five second head start. He had time. He had quite a lot of time.
She was probably making a run back to the Shadow Herd. With a pang in his heart he hadn't thought he could feel after that lightning strike earlier, he realized that a part of him no longer thought of her as his sister. He'd thought about her for a long time, and now...well, she wasn't his sister. Not really. She wasn't the mare he'd made up in his imagination. She was an enemy warrior, and even if she was small fry in the grand scheme of things (and he knew she was small fry in the grand scheme of things), he knew he couldn't allow even a mook like her to make it back to the treeline.
She'll make it back, he thought. She's fast. But his berserker rage demanded something. Scare her. Make her afraid. Make her never try this again. Keep her out of Sunflare forever.
Make it so you never see her again.
Alright, her five second head start was over. Ciaradh grinned a feral grin and lunged forward. For a few steps, he kept to the ground, but after that he used his strong legs to launch himself up off the ground and into the air.
She'd said no wings. How cute. If Shadow wasn't going to play by the rules...
...why should he?
"Keep going, Irishstorm!" he called out to her. Lazily, he flew over to hover above her. "You're really fast!" He smirked. His pale yellow eyes had gone dead and cold. This was an enemy. Not a family member. Just another neon monster from the other side of the border.
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Posted: Tue Dec 10, 2019 6:42 pm
No hoofbeats reached her ears for a few seconds, and she managed to only falter for a stride before pushing herself faster. For one of those noble Sunflare warriors, he had given up on the rules and any pretense at honor rather quickly. Irishstorm could hear the flap of wings above and cursed.
So maybe he wasn't a stupid baby bunny of a brother after all. It was just possible that there was something latently psycho in Ciaradh's psychology, and if she had to make a bet, probably inherited from their father Stormlight.
But this was no time to ponder the psychology of the Star flying above her and taunting her.
Irishstorm snorted softly and pushed herself to maximal speed, scanning the ground ahead, looking for places where she could either get further ahead (unlikely, since he'd chosen to start flying), or where she could duck and render his wings useless in the pursuit.
"I enjoy a good run, brother mine! Do you not enjoy using your legs as much as your wings?" she replied, trying carefully to keep anything mocking out of her tone. If Ciaradh had a psycho mode, it was better not to get on the worse side of it; if Ciaradh was just being ultra creepy and thinking about enforcing her stay in the Sunflare, it was better not to do anything to encourage him to do anything precipitous. At least, not until she was far enough away.
Of all the things she could've inherited from Stormlight, it could've been wings or a horn, but nooo, it had to be cloven hooves and a damn tail. Useless father, both of them.
Topping a hill, Irishstorm took a risk, bunched herself, and jumped down as much of the slope as she could. She winced as pain lanced through her forelegs, but was relieved when she didn't lose her footing. She'd regret it later, once she got back into the woods of the Shadow, but for now, given the pain, she'd probably make it home fine.
She swore, she was supposed to be the evil one who didn't play by the rules, she was the one raised by the Shadow. How did the psycho baby bunny of a brother wind up with less regard for the rules and less compassion than a Dark Knight?!
There, across the ravine. The woods. Safety.
Irishstorm sprinted faster toward the ravine, ignoring the throbbing in her forelegs.
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