07-24-2017, 07:05 PM
07-24-2017, 07:05 PM
07-30-2017, 06:55 PM
He glides along, still half-blinded by the pain in his head. Those eyes, those white-hot burning eyes, do not relent. They bring him nothing but suffering, to such an extent that he wonders if death would really be the worst alternative. Anything has to be better than this, these symptoms that he knows can only be cured by accomplishing the trial he has been set.
Initially he resists the idea of completing them, because he genuinely does not know how. Eventually, after many days of pain, he finally succumbs to the desire to just do what they're telling him, and so he spends his time flying around the Rift looking for likely candidates to perform his necessary tasks with. That's what brings him over the forest as the scream reaches his ears; he pauses for a second, blinking hard as the words reach his mind through the raging agony of the white-hot eyes. Somebody....sounds like they need help. The yearling's heart erupts with hope, and he angles his large wings to bring him down towards the source of the sound. He lands amidst the trees, folding his great wings to his side with painstaking care. His long, powerful stride soon brings him towards the screamer; a filly. The yearling is not good at reading emotions, but even he can sense the girl's anger, and his intelligent mind immediately begins to deduce the reason. The things she's saying....could she be plagued with the agony inside her head, too? "Do you need help with a trial?" he asks in that monotone voice of his, curiously deep despite his tender age. |
08-01-2017, 07:07 PM
08-04-2017, 06:59 PM
To most others, the girl's giggling may feel rather perturbing. To the odd volcano-colt, though, there is no reason for him to be concerned, because he does not feel such things. Her question is enough to pique his interest, and his ears pivot as he tilts his four-horned head. "I saw them, and then they planted a white-hot pain inside my head. It only seems to ease when I think over the tasks that the eyes set me, which leads me to believe accomplishing those tasks may be the key to getting rid of the pain. One of the requests is for me to help somebody else with their trial, which has lead me to you." The yearling's voice is deep and utterly monotone, as it always is. It is as though he has no emotions - he does, of course, but they're stunted and barely visible, especially when he talks in that unwavering voice of his.
She adds that she's been tasked with harvesting the organs from a living tree, and the boy's head tilts further. As ever, he interprets it literally. "All trees are living, are they not? Their organs are not like our own - hearts and lungs and kidneys - but they are no less vital. Their roots, for example, could be considered an organ." He speaks matter-of-factly, unaware that he may come across as a smart arse. She asks about his own tasks, and he glances to the tree before answering. "I need to tell three secrets, help somebody to tell a destructive lie, and help somebody with their trial. It seems I can accomplish at least one of those by assisting you with your harvest." His emotionless voice means it's impossible to tell whether Vulkán intends to help out of the goodness of his heart, or because he'll do anything to rid himself of this pain. The filly pulls a chain from her neck and offers it to him. Arcta can be a little temperamental. Be nice to her... "I do not believe your chain is a she, as inanimate objects cannot have genders." Once again, the large yearling takes things too literally, at the risk of offending the person he's with, but he genuinely cannot stop himself from correcting this horrendous oversight. Items are not gendered - that implies that they are alive, which they are not. He takes the object all the same, and holds it against the tree as instructed. As the filly suggests he use any magic that he has, he summons the lava from inside him. This never used to hurt him, but it does now - one would think that this may make him reluctant to use it, but this doesn't cross his mind as he begins to leak boiling lava from his right shoulder. Only a wince across his face depicts his pain, and he presses his lava-bleeding shoulder against the tree to burn a great track through it, revealing the insides for the filly to do whatever she wants with. |
08-09-2017, 08:06 PM
08-12-2017, 07:42 PM
He grits his teeth against the agony as the white-hot lava touches the bare flesh of his shoulder. It's not as bad as when it leaks from his face, because then there's always the very real concern about it going into his eyes and blinding him. It seems to work, though, and he steps away from the tree with a small grunt of pain. Immediately the lava flow stops and hardens against his shoulder, and he knows it won't be long before it crusts over and hardens into a shell that he will need to crack off.
The filly reaches into the tree and pulls out a heart. It's an actual heart, too, much to his surprise. So the Rift's trees really are alive? The colt peers at the prize with evident interest, musing over this new scenario. By this logic, everything here could be alive and sentient, from the grass they eat to the ferns they brush so carelessly past. Now the heart has been ripped free, does that mean the tree is dead? If so, it seems dreadfully gruesome, cruel almost, to create something alive but utterly incapable of defending itself against a physical threat. She asks for his name; he gives it. "My name is Vulkán," he says. "Do you think that heart is enough to complete your trial, or could there be more organs you need to harvest?" |
08-14-2017, 07:46 PM
08-19-2017, 08:40 PM
The filly continues to harvest organs from the tree, leading the bulky yearling to wonder whether the tree is in pain. It does seem incredibly cruel to give a living organism the ability to suffer, but not the ability to defend itself. She asks after his wellbeing, and he casts a cursory glance across his burning shoulder. "I will be fine. It does not hurt after an hour or so." The skin around the lava-marking seems to be harder than the rest of his body, meaning that the boiling magma does not hurt as much as it would do elsewhere. He considers this a very useful genetic quirk, but it doesn't mean he doesn't suffer some pain, because he most certainly does.
Castiella thanks him, to which he nods, then takes her leave. Once she's gone, he takes the time to admire what remains of the tree, studying it to the best of his ability. It's certainly interesting, and only once he has taken his fill of education does he flare his wings and take to the heavens, leaving the area and the decimated tree behind. |
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