Solanis
12-09-2017, 03:03 AM
Exploration brought Taivas toward the Western Mists, whereas she normally sat guard in a tree closer toward the Portal to the sullen land. With the receding cold touch of winter, a new itch rose in her skin and spirit. The thick coat she had built to survive the harsher months now quickly abandoned her, sloughing off en masse. Soft undercoat floated through the thick, humid air as she flew, torn loose by the heat and speed of flight. The soft pallid fur fell, mimicking the snow that had dominated the land just a couple of weeks prior. The lack of spring, or micro-spring (if the few days in which the snow melted could be called such), was somewhat jolting to the mare at first.
Now, she became accustomed to the heat. Something within her bones recognized the oppressive sun as familiar; though she had never visited the Dragon's Throat, her mother's blood knew it well.
The land which stretched below her flourished after the weight of snow and ice had receded. Vibrant green branches sprung upward, the leaves drinking in the natural moisture of the Western Mists. Below, a tapestry of neon colors could be seen peaking through the massive, oval shaped leaves and thick, moss covered trunks. To see greenery brought a warmth to her heart, penetrating deeper than the beaming sun. The mood in her mind was light and carefree, even as the summer air thick with moisture pushed in at her body as she traveled.
However, the mood was not to remain so.
Abruptly, terribly so, a voice cuts through the air like a violent knife, wrenching into her mind unbidden and unwanted. The mare is stunned by the intrusion, seeing no source to the voice, and she begins to careen downward haphazardly toward the trees for a moment. With an indelicate shove of her wings, she rights herself in the air, and takes the time to consider the request once more.
Will you come?
The voice is unfamiliar, but the tone is hopeful and bright, despite its initial disturbance to her thoughts and soul. The shaman hovers in the air for a moment, pondering her next move. Much like Uwaritace, this voice came from the air, with no apparent speaker. The burned mother tree had touched her heart, and this is ultimately what drives her decision to seek the hopeful speaker below.
Navigating into the meadow not far ahead, Taivas almost regrets her decision, were it not for two familiar figures already standing attention to the dark monster.
The painted girl lands gently in the grass below and travels herself directly toward Roscorro and the spirited filly she had met before. However, her dark set eyes are not looking at the dragon boy and his friend, but rather the nightmarish god before them.
He looks to be mangled, bleeding from various punctures along his spine, where that of another looks entrenched painfully in his flesh. Behind him, a figure swathed in shadows and gloom floated, wielding a bone-like sword. Upon his shoulder hung a blood stained pelt of a tiger. In front of him, a shining orb of pulsing energy dances, mesmerizingly beautiful, especially in contrast to the creature it accompanied. His face, though - oh, what a haunting face, indeed. Taivas's ears lay flat on her skull. Her muscles tense, protesting every step closer to the demented thing standing in front of them.
Yet, her face was calm, and, surprisingly, so was her mind. She continued to hear the faint echoes of the request, replaying steadily in that hopeful and even gentle tone. Will you come?
She falls in line beside Roscorro, opposite of the little girl he protectively shielded with his wing. Taivas says nothing at first, only nods in solemn greeting to her friend while looking at the strange, ghoulish thing before them. After looking at him for another moment, the shaman musters up enough courage to speak. The desire to help outweighs all other fears.
"Are you in need of aid?"
Now, she became accustomed to the heat. Something within her bones recognized the oppressive sun as familiar; though she had never visited the Dragon's Throat, her mother's blood knew it well.
The land which stretched below her flourished after the weight of snow and ice had receded. Vibrant green branches sprung upward, the leaves drinking in the natural moisture of the Western Mists. Below, a tapestry of neon colors could be seen peaking through the massive, oval shaped leaves and thick, moss covered trunks. To see greenery brought a warmth to her heart, penetrating deeper than the beaming sun. The mood in her mind was light and carefree, even as the summer air thick with moisture pushed in at her body as she traveled.
However, the mood was not to remain so.
Abruptly, terribly so, a voice cuts through the air like a violent knife, wrenching into her mind unbidden and unwanted. The mare is stunned by the intrusion, seeing no source to the voice, and she begins to careen downward haphazardly toward the trees for a moment. With an indelicate shove of her wings, she rights herself in the air, and takes the time to consider the request once more.
Will you come?
The voice is unfamiliar, but the tone is hopeful and bright, despite its initial disturbance to her thoughts and soul. The shaman hovers in the air for a moment, pondering her next move. Much like Uwaritace, this voice came from the air, with no apparent speaker. The burned mother tree had touched her heart, and this is ultimately what drives her decision to seek the hopeful speaker below.
Navigating into the meadow not far ahead, Taivas almost regrets her decision, were it not for two familiar figures already standing attention to the dark monster.
The painted girl lands gently in the grass below and travels herself directly toward Roscorro and the spirited filly she had met before. However, her dark set eyes are not looking at the dragon boy and his friend, but rather the nightmarish god before them.
He looks to be mangled, bleeding from various punctures along his spine, where that of another looks entrenched painfully in his flesh. Behind him, a figure swathed in shadows and gloom floated, wielding a bone-like sword. Upon his shoulder hung a blood stained pelt of a tiger. In front of him, a shining orb of pulsing energy dances, mesmerizingly beautiful, especially in contrast to the creature it accompanied. His face, though - oh, what a haunting face, indeed. Taivas's ears lay flat on her skull. Her muscles tense, protesting every step closer to the demented thing standing in front of them.
Yet, her face was calm, and, surprisingly, so was her mind. She continued to hear the faint echoes of the request, replaying steadily in that hopeful and even gentle tone. Will you come?
She falls in line beside Roscorro, opposite of the little girl he protectively shielded with his wing. Taivas says nothing at first, only nods in solemn greeting to her friend while looking at the strange, ghoulish thing before them. After looking at him for another moment, the shaman musters up enough courage to speak. The desire to help outweighs all other fears.
"Are you in need of aid?"
So seize the day 'Cause you have come so far
Watched a million frowns turn into smiles
Lost all track of time Felt the energy of a million stars
You'll feel love again after the rain
Watched a million frowns turn into smiles
Lost all track of time Felt the energy of a million stars
You'll feel love again after the rain
Taivas
[ ooc - Stand beside Roscorro, on the side not occupied by Gwyn. ]
