This forum uses cookies
This forum makes use of cookies to store your login information if you are registered, and your last visit if you are not. Cookies are small text documents stored on your computer; the cookies set by this forum can only be used on this website and pose no security risk. Cookies on this forum also track the specific topics you have read and when you last read them. Please confirm whether you accept or reject these cookies being set.

A cookie will be stored in your browser regardless of choice to prevent you being asked this question again. You will be able to change your cookie settings at any time using the link in the footer.

Hello There, Guest!

| Register
Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
How to Catch a Fish
Open Mangrove Tidepools 
Galahad
Currently championing:
#1
 
The roar of crashing water is what had drawn the youth here. Galahad had enjoyed in the past scouting out his surroundings, knowing each well, and the same he’d hoped to do now. Hoping it bring….some calm to the chaos that had become his mind. As he weaved among the tide pools and trees his mind still continued to drift off. He was in the Rift. Again. But this time he was alone. Thranduil, if he had been caught in the snow storm had yet to be found, and there was no sign of Ma, or Casca. He had met a few creatures here, but the youth was out here, quietly wandering…He experienced a feeling he hadn’t in so long. He was lonely.

Horned head ducked below a low branch of a mangrove and he slipped from the small grove into the sun towards another. For two years he’d been with the gold, and though it was not always the easiest life, he was in a place familiar, with a creature who, though may cause pain, he could trust still. Now for the first time he felt exposed, and beyond the walls of safety. The young buck had surely gained enough confidence to not curl up in a small ball like he would as a colt, but he felt the feeling all the same. Especially here, in the Rift, where he’d been given his cursed feathers.

Hoof steps in water, splashing him and scattering fish. It wakes him from his mindless walk, and the youth stops. Sea blue eyes wander across the landscape around him, as if he hadn’t realized he was there. Ahead birds called out, and the mangroves rustled in the wind. Below the fish were collecting themselves once more in their small pool, and the plants on the sides of the pool looked colorful and thriving. One pale gold hark slides back. This place was….beautiful. Was it really the Rift? The other hark slides back. Perhaps he was being too quick to judge. Perhaps…The young buck exhales and steps from the water. Alone he might be, but as the gold had always said, you never knew when you’d find an opportunity. Of course he meant an opportunity to rob, trick, or wound another….Galahad was merely looking for a distraction….perhaps company.

 
OOC ::  Open to anything/anyone!
"speech"
---
credits
Korri
Currently championing: Reszo
#2
You could still be what you want to —
(what you said you were when I met you)

The sea was a distant roar in his ears. Growing louder and louder as he rode the unpredictable, freezing winds. Not a pleasant noise; it recalled too easily memories in his other senses. The sharp tang of blood, the throbbing pain of his raven's voice, the too-sharp ring of his hooves on the stone...

Korri's flight path wandered lower. There, a violent, smothering field of blue: the capricious dance of the waves. Oh, he heard it still: the way it roared down the hallways, devouring stone. He would never love the sea.

He could not imagine his raven seeking it out, but the shoreline crossed near Halyven, and he was not about to let his personal feelings keep him from exhausting every option. So he skated swiftly over the tidepools, his gaze scanning his surroundings in every dimension: the clear sky, the ugly field of the sea, the many gnarled trees bent over the rocks. It might have been a pretty place if he didn't hate it, but he did. He hated everything the sea stood for, even if this was not his sea. It tasted the same in the back of his mouth.

And Auga wasn't here.

He had lately a recurring fear: that she was nowhere. That the Rift had taken only him. Korri was comforted only by the knowledge, rooted firmly in his soul and undiminishing, that he would not live without her. He would first go mad, or die from the shock. His heart would shear in two and pour its contents into his heaving lungs. So she had to be somewhere in the Rift. He just couldn't figure out why he had yet to find her. She had no reason to hide…

He searched for black, so his eyes first skated over the glint of gold there at the edge of one of the pools. But then he caught up with his thoughts, with the information coming in from his eyes, and wheeled quickly back. There was a moment — just a moment — of strange panic or elation or both at once where the color registered and he knew it, his own color, tossed here upon the shore like the lost piece of a shipwreck…

But the boy had horns.

Korri descended anyway, curiosity smoothing out all else. He came in at an angle, his hooves dropping a polite distance away, his wings scooping out a space appropriately wide between the trees. "Hello, there!" Korri called, the light timbre of his voice an easy melody against the crashing waves. His heart still beat uncomfortably fast. Of course, upon even the barest scrutiny, Korri found the boy to be of the tall and weedy Rift type, wingless, crowned instead with a pair of horns. The color was — a coincidence. And not even the same, really, upon closer inspection. Ears pricked, Korri approached anyway. He thought the boy looked young, and wondered at finding him alone, though not enough to feel concern.

"I wonder if you've seen a raven anywhere nearby?" he asked when he had reached an appropriately conversational distance. "I'm afraid I've lost mine."

Korri
texture


@Galahad :D

collect your tears, shoot 'em down
even giants hit the ground
Galahad
Currently championing:
#3
 

It seemed the Rift was kinder to him than when he left. From above a shadow glides over him. The colt startles. It is larger than a bird. Harks fall back and his tail lashes about his legs, but he makes no outward moves of aggression as the shadow’s maker comes into view. It was wise, for it seemed the creature meant no ill-will. That much was clear from the very first hello.

Still in a somber, quieter mood, the lad only nods back to the greeting. And in his quieter way at the moment, he observes, instead of saying more. The creature was smaller than he (though the colt was yet fully grown). Still the wings gave the small creature some breadth, so he did not look quite so little. A pale dustman’s coat, and thick set finished the creature off. He was a very plain creature, perhaps of Helovia, but then he’d seem some rather colorful character there too. Might the Rift be capable of producing beauty and normality? It would have to be investigated.

He shouldn’t just stand here though. Awkward, near emotionless. He should make some effort. Perhaps a friendly tone, something he had been carrying, but the pale gold was still hungover from his daze. His mind was still too slow on the uptake. He could also take Thranduil’s side of the world. Use his skills to probe and examine the new comer closer than a microscope could. He could learn what brought the creature down and use it to some advantage, even if it was just a laugh. Yet, he wasn’t the gold. He was not his father. Bringing in knives, tweezers and scalpels to a new being had been what caused them to distance themselves in the first place. That life sounded full of adventure and tall tales, but when he’d tried, it had felt wrong. (Partly because, for him, it came so easy.) So when the dusty bird came to a stop and seemed like he had something else on his mind, the pale gold was relieved he wasn’t being asked to come up with their topic of conversation. His ears prick up and he listens with curiosity.

A raven? The horned head tilts. He was searching for a raven. His raven. “Your companion?” It comes out in a lull of a question. To lose a companion was a very serious thing. The pale remembered in anger once, asking his Da why he did not leave Haldir alone if he hated him so much. Companions though were tied to your soul, impossible to lose. Or perhaps this was a joke. One hark slides back. No, this creature was too friendly for that. Of course, his guard remained up.

Still, it calls forth something in the pale colt, and a small apologetic smile comes forward. “I’m sorry I haven’t…” Would he have even noticed though? Being in such a daze, would he have noticed one small black dot on the horizon? Guilt blooms in his mind. “…but I can help you look for it?” It was an offer, a question, to be accepted or rejected. Yet…it leaned with a desire to be accepted. After all it would mean company, distraction, even if it was not all it seemed.

As if to secure his sincerity the pale colt looks up at the sky, his eyes sweeping the mangroves and pale white puffs of clouds. He could cover the ground, and the other the sk- or you could fly with him. Fear grabs him in his throat. To cover it he smiles more at the other and clears his throat. (No he could not do that. He would not do that. Out of the question.) “I’m Galahad by the way.” The at your service seemed mute at this point, as he was already putting himself there.

 
OOC :: 
"speech"
---
credits


@Korri <3
Korri
Currently championing: Reszo
#4
You could still be what you want to —
(what you said you were when I met you)

"I'm sorry..." The same answer every time. Of course. Korri forced a faint, strained kind of smile in response to the boy's offer. He began to wonder if he was a little insane. She had existed, had she not? Everything they endured together? The king, the bears, the rebels? The castle? The sea? His expression faltered just a bit before he answered. "I appreciate the offer, but... I think I'm faster on my own, for now." Korri shrugged his wings, hoping that explained it well enough. He hadn't the time or the desire to explain how little he trusted these ill thought-out offers of help. Perhaps they came from good hearts, or perhaps they were just people looking for adventure, or to get him into their debt... No. He already served Halyven against his best reason. He would not involve himself with anyone else unless forced.

"I would appreciate it if you kept an eye out, maybe," he added. All the same. "She looks just like any other raven, though she's missing an eye." Had the wound even healed? "We were separated when I — came here." And how had he come? Korri couldn't remember. Only: the rush of the sea and the strain of his wings. The shadows and unwelcome eyes of the Portal. He sighed. How quickly good fortune turned sour.

The boy introduced himself next, and Korri nodded. It was only good manners to return the gesture, so he gave his own name in response. "Nice to meet you. I'm Korri, a scout of the kingdom of Halyven. Are you familiar with it?" He supposed if he wasn't finding Auga here, he had might as well see what information he could dig up, instead. Learn what outsiders thought of them. Learn where this Galahad came from, if other herds existed... Everything so foreign still in the Rift. He would love it if only the hole his raven had left didn't ache profoundly in the very center of his heart.

Korri
texture


@Galahad

collect your tears, shoot 'em down
even giants hit the ground
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#5
Beautiful it maybe, but the Mangrove Tidepools are equally deceptive. You stand distracted, lost in thought, memories maybe, while the wilderness around you continues its motion. Perhaps you have seen them before, the roots that jut uninterestingly from the glistening water, but these are naughtier, trickier than the common kind you know, and they can feel your presence, lingering.

There comes another like you, though wings adorn his sides and he looks to be less vague. The roots taste his nearness also, rising too subtly at first, to notice; one turns upon itself prematurely, knotting tightly around its own length. Though Flysh glide near, peering upward from their salty sanctuary to view you—the strangest of creatures, their visit is short and they skid playfully away.

While you talk—while you’re occupied—the roots again stir, fingering upwards towards one cloven, cream hoof. Their intent is harmless in a sense, unless you fail to realise their bind and begin to stroll forward. The longest, oldest of them reaches you first and slides its smooth length around your narrow pastern; it embraces you, fully and knots itself fast.
the Rift
what lies beneath
image

@Galahad
» Presence of the Rift «