the Rift - body ache

WAKER

You picked the mountain because you wanted something tall—a place high up, yet grounded. The Pinnacle feels, arguably, taller, but it's full of secrets and a blazing blue light. It's too different. Foreign.

The Summit is different. It seems to be a dormant, or even dead, volcano, sat in a small range of gray mountains. A pine forest—a tree you never saw back home, it is wondrous and strange and has a very distinct, fresh smell—cloaks the slopes, crowds close to the lake where the siren bit you. That has healed since long. Only scars remain, little ridges where the teeth tore through your black skin. It doesn't even itch anymore.

You stand upon the Summit's lip, a crater to nothing somewhere ahead of your hooves. There's no activity, no heat, nothing; it's just a mountain now, sitting high in the sky. You draw the thin air deep into your lungs. The only warmth here comes from the sun, hidden behind a thick curtain of clouds, trapping the damp heat between it and the ground. The fresh breeze is a small relief at this altitude, though, and that's why you're standing there, you suppose.

You're tired, in many ways. You've kept running around in circles around your own mind. You feel like a coward each time you think that, maybe, it's for the best that you never find home—you feel weak and filthy. But when do you give up, anyway? It's been months. The days are changing, something's happening—a shift in seasons, you guess, but there you have it. You've been here a while, and you've not found a way out. You've tried.

Can you give up trying? Can you let it be? Will you ever be able to forgive yourself if you do?

You swallow, and shimmy upon the mountain's rim. From here, everything looks so normal, so possible, like the mountains on the far edge of your plains. They were the domain of the wailers, but once, the wailers hadn't been the murderers they became at the end. You've walked their foothills, drunk from their brooks, played on their glaciers.

Those mountains looked nothing like these, but they still remind you of home.

For anyone! Maybe one of 's kids?

ROSCORRO

you and atlas are one and the same, my dear

A slumbering volcano. It's power dormant, hidden far beneath the rock. Waiting to be unleashed. In fury hurling smoke and ash into the sky before raining down upon the living world. Burring, suffocating it, blinding all. Then fire would consume the world. Pulsating, devouring as lava flows across the land, searing, burning flesh from bone. What a beautiful sight it would be, to see the world aflame. Covered in a lake of red death.

Hold up!

The stallion nearly fell from the sky as the horrific thoughts and images entered his mind. He tumbled through the air until he was able to regain control of his uncontrolled decent. Still he found his feet hitting the ground a lot harder than he would have liked. His form charging forward in an attempt to stay upright. In a awkward display of feather and flesh he burst onto the scene that Waker had been admiring second before. Coming to an abrupt halt, tail lashing, cloak billowing, the giant Clydesdale snorted. He breathed deeply as he shook his head, trying to clear it of the terrible vision he had seen within his mind's eye. But no matter how much he shook he would not be able to rid himself of the sick feeling in his gut. The knowledge that he had thought those thoughts. That some part of him reveled in the idea of causing the world to descend into destruction. His home and friends.

Coming up beside him, his orb of hope floated quietly. Roscorro subconsciously moved closer to it, seeking comfort. Inside him that same voice snickered, pleased to have shaken the stallion so before hissing as the light pushed it back. That was not him. The wanderer told himself. It was the voice's thoughts, not his own. Yet it had felt so natural as it flowed through his mind. Like it was he himself who thought such things. This terrified him. Ears flicking back the earthen clad stallion looked to the sky and took another deep breath. No, it was not him. He was not that kind of person. That voice was not him. Then who was it? Where did it come from?

He brushed these questions aside, unwilling to face them at this time. Closing his eyes he focused on breathing, until he became aware of another's presence. Turning his stormy gaze towards Waker he offered an awkward smile. "Well that was embarrassing." he chuckled as he pounded the unease and fear down deep within him. Recognition lit within his eyes as he gaze soaked in the stranger before him and his smile turned to a large grin. "So we meet again!" Turning the dragon tribrid approached Waker as if he were an old friend. The leather of his armor creaking as he moved. "How are you doing, it has been a while."

Eyes full of warmth Roscorro stopped before the dark stallion, his head dipping in greeting. "I was unable to introduce myself the last time we had met. Forgive me for seeming rude at the time, the Rift had stole my voice. I am Roscorro."

"Talk."

cursed to hold a weight you can't bear and still standing

not because you can — but because you have to

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RIXEN

i have late night conversations with the moon;

I let out a deep sigh. Which felt good, in the way that deep sighs do. It’s a sigh of… well, I didn’t know what kind of sigh it was. Other things, things that weren’t sighs, were what often occupied my thoughts. It was a nice, sunny day and perhaps that was the reason behind my heavy exhalation - relief as some invisible weight was lifted off of my chest by the warm summer afternoon.

Poking above the dark green tips of the pine trees was the massive, dark shape of the volcano on the other side of the Siren’s Summit, just visible from where I stood. It lay craggy against the bright blue sky, like a giant, ticking time bomb. Except there was no timer, no red wire or green. And the real question was not if, at some point it would erupt, but when. You’d never know when it might rain lava and rock for miles, if the mountain would destroy everything that lived below it. But I was not too concerned, because there were so many other thoughts that occupied my mind. Whenever I had a moment to myself, I was always thinking about healing the Rift - what I could do, and how it could be done. Like anyone who lived surrounded by constant danger and uncertainty, I learned to put distant worries like whether the volcano would erupt today out of my mind, and focus on the tasks at hoof.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a winged figure dart through the sky (or was he falling?) toward the ground. The shape was close enough that I could make out features I’d seen around the Rift before, namely long hair, scaly legs, and large spikes running down his spine. Before I could tell whether he meant to be flying that way or if he was just really clumsy, he disappeared below the line of trees. Feeling the need to investigate and see whether or not the stallion was okay, I immediately picked up a brisk pace and made my way in the direction I’d seen him fly.

When I stepped through the trees and into the open, I saw to my relief that the stallion, whose name I did not know, seemed to be perfectly find. Standing before him was another stallion, Waker, whose name I knew but who I had never formally met. So there I was, unsure whether or not I’d interrupted their conversation, and unable to turn back even if I wanted to because I was standing right in front of both of them. To be honest, though, I did not want to turn back. I was rather glad to see both of them there, on the lip of the Summit, because now I had to opportunity to properly introduce myself. "My apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt. But hello there, I don’t believe we’ve formally met before. Though I do remember seeing both of you around." I addressed both with a warm smile and a polite dip of my antlered head.

"Talk."

he tells me about the sun —

and I tell him about you.

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Throwing Rixen in to meet your boys, hope you don't mind! :D

WAKER

You're lost in a borderland, somewhere between here and home; your mind is a mess of loose ends and broken bits desperately trying to fit together in ways they were never meant to. It doesn't matter how much you want to rest, what a relief it would be for Kisamoa to show up and say 'look Waker, there's no way back'—family is family. You can't just stop loving your Mama, or wondering about her, how she's doing, if she's still alive. You can't just forget about your friends, and how they all went to war when they had to. Some of them you've already seen dead and cold and empty, skin split, flesh burnt, sweat and blood dried upon their dull coats. The rest are in that place with your Mama, that place where you can tell yourself they're possibly still alive.

While their death would be terrible beyond words, it is not something you can comprehend, or even know, so what eats at you is their possible judgment. Waker, the one sent to offer relief. Waker, the one who didn't make it there. What if you would've been able to make a difference?

It's the same old hang-up, and always without an answer. Your pale eyes travel the horizon laid out below you, when suddenly—

Movement pulls your eyes to the sky, and for a moment, you're not understanding what you're seeing. Then it dawns on you—something is falling, much like you did when coming into the Rift, but this isn't the Portal..? You feel your flesh push against your skin, trying to shape your body into a question mark to match the one your brain has turned into. What the..?

But before your body breaks into a shape it wasn't meant to have, the falling blob resolves into the shape of Dragon Man, who touches down like thunder and runs off the excess speed. You just stare at him, mystified and slightly disturbed. It wasn't like he was close to hitting you, but you saw him plummet, and you know that you couldn't do anything but pick up the pieces afterwards if he hadn't resolved it on his own.

You're glad he fixed it on his own, or he would've been another guilt to hang heavy on your shoulders.

You don't say anything, because you cannot find the words to put to what you just saw. You're tempted to ask him if he's alright, but he seems to be; he moves, he breathes, and though he shows signs of exertion, it's not the fast, shallow breathing of one in immense pain. You come to the conclusion that you may as well wait for him to remember what's up and what's down and the fact that you're standing there and peering at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Finally, the gigantic creature turns his attention to you, and to your great surprise, he speaks. "Well that was embarrassing," the massive equine says, his voice deep but pleasant, his awkward smile endearing. You remember your manners and pick your jaw up off the floor, blink, and flip your ears politely forward. You nod a little. You'd probably be embarrassed if you nearly fell on someone, too.

"That it has," you agree, something in your eyes still kind of blank, as if you haven't gotten over the shock of figuring out that Dragon Man can speak. "I'm alright." Dragon Man now stood very close to you, and you crane your head back a little to look up at him. You feel very small, and considering his many sharp bits, you'd have been wary if you hadn't already met him. As it is, you recall many seeming to know him and none fearing him, and besides, his eyes aren't the eyes of a predator. They're much too warm and kind.

"Roscorro," you echo, trying the name out. It fits him. "I'm Waker. I didn't think any of it—I mean, I just thought you were mute."

But that's about as far as you make it, and maybe it's a blessing that a potential ramble is being cut off, because the gray stallion from Halyven bursts onto the scene. He looks a bit startled at finding the two of you, which causes an amused smile to form on your lips. It feels like it's been a long time since you've done that—smiled.

"Hi," you answer, brightly. "I'm Waker." You think his name was R something. You've usually got a good enough memory, but there were many names that day, and your mind has, it seems, been more busy with tormenting you than being useful. "I'm sorry, I forgot your name..?"

I don't mind in the slightest <33 Also lmao we've got one character written in 1st person, one in 2nd, and one in 3rd xD

ROSCORRO

you and atlas are one and the same, my dear

The other seemed rather confused. Whether it was because he had just witnessed another fall from the sky, or because he was surprised upon hearing the stallion he had thought was mute speak, was undetermined. Probably a mixture of both. He would be rather hard pressed to find words if he was in Waker's position. Frankly he felt quite embarrassed that anyone had to witness his ungraceful decent from the sky. Not the mention his inner struggle as he tried to center himself once more. He had to look like a complete idiot to the outside observer. None were aware of what he had seen, the thoughts that had ran through his head.

They did not feel how deeply disturbed he was by it all. How much it shook him. But he would not let them see it, would not tell them. He was an open, friendly creature, but not one to reveal his darkest secrets to an acquaintance. Perhaps if it had been Kiada or Taivas, he would reveal what had happened. But then again, did he really want them knowing of the darkness that resided within his soul? Would they turn away and call him a monster?

He did not dare risk it. He couldn't lose his friends, not again. Instead of dwelling on the darkness, he smiled at Waker's words. It was far easier distracting himself by visiting with the stallion than facing his inner demons. So when Rixen came awkwardly onto the scene his smile widened. Grateful for his presence. "Greetings" Roscorro said with a dip of his head. He remembered seeing the stallion with Kiada when the matron was giving out quests. He was curious to know his relationship with his friend. They had seemed quite close. "I am Roscorro, it is a pleasure to officially meet you."

"Talk."

cursed to hold a weight you can't bear and still standing

not because you can — but because you have to

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ooc: A terrible post, but I am back!

RIXEN

i have late night conversations with the moon;

For some reason Waker smiled amusedly at me, as if I’d made a joke that he found particularly funny. That was the first thing I noticed upon looking the midnight-colored stallion directly in the face. While receiving such a look might have bothered someone else, it did not offend me, for intuition told me he meant well, and I believed it. Almost instantly I returned his smile with one of my own, a deep curve on my lips accented by a twinkle in my eye. When someone smiled at me, no matter how small, it was like for a split second everything stopped and their smile pierced through all the bad in my life and all was well again. If it was even possible, I hoped to return the feeling. It was one that every horse deserved.

"Had you not reminded me, I might have forgotten to tell you myself. My name is Rixen." I responded with a chuckle. I continued to stand before the two of them, my charcoal-colored tail brushing against my hocks as it gently swished back and forth. Then I turned my attention toward the larger stallion, Roscorro, who I found to be quite fascinating based off of his looks alone. "Hello Roscorro. It it a pleasure indeed." The last few words mold into another amicable smile. "I’m glad to see you are alright. What I saw over the treetops led me to think you'd fallen."

I was glad to have run into the two of them. Now we could get to know one another a little better than we had the last time we were all here, which was not too long ago. At the time, we’d all been thinking about other things, hoping to escape the siren’s gnashing jaws unscathed. Waker hadn’t been so lucky. I remembered feeling sheer terror as the siren lunged for me. Somehow it was almost worse, watching the needle-sharp teeth sink into another’s flesh, powerless to do anything but watch. There was an unmistakable look of dejection upon Waker’s features when I saw him on the shore, blood dripping from a gash in his neck. Hopefully his wounds healed up quickly. From my position before him, I couldn’t see whether or not they’d left a scar.

Rather than risk bringing up bad memories, I thought of something else to say instead. Something more suitable, and more pleasant for all of us. "So, what brings the two of you to Siren’s Summit on such a fine day?" It was a general question, however, that did not mean I was any less interested in hearing the answer.

"Talk."

he tells me about the sun —

and I tell him about you.

img

<3

WAKER

[ Sorry for taking so long to respond... <3 ]

As the striped, steel-colored stallion returns your smile, you realize a handful of things: that you're glad they're here with you, that you've been terribly lonely since coming to the Rift, and that, largely, it's of your own doing. You've spent so much time flying, pushing yourself to your limits under the scorching sun, trying to find.. something; a way back, answers, peace, Taivas... It's just been you and the vast, open sky, where it's so easy to lose sight of everything else.

Carefully, you tuck this knowledge away. Best not to think of it now, when you've finally found yourself in unexpected company.

Roscorro seems happy to see the steel one, and you are, too; the large, dragon-like stallion repeats his name, and any worry you felt at having forgotten Steel's name is quickly erased when he takes it in stride. He is Rixen, and when you hear it, you think, ah, of course; you've heard it before, after all. You watch him silently as he returns Roscorro's greeting. Smiles come easy to him. You like that. You think the Rift needs more smiles.

You know that you need more smiles.

So you let one slowly curve your lips again, just a small thing, warmth in your eyes as you look at your two stranger-friends. After all that has happened, there's no way you're going to label them as less, but you still don't know them.

"Homesickness," you find yourself replying bluntly to Rixen's question. Although things seem less hopeless now that you're surrounded by friends, you can't just forget about the whole thing, and your gaze travels out across the mountain's slope again. "I come from a vast plain, bordered by mountains to the northwest. They're nothing like these mountains, and yet, sort of the same..." You trail off, hating how uncertain you are all of a sudden, how this alien place has turned you into a shy, hesitating creature. You'd never been the most outspoken back home, but you'd been easy and secure in your own skin and mind. You've lost that sense of peace.

"Where did you come from..?" you ask, eyeing them both with curiosity.