The Portal
He tried to move his feet, but that must've been displeasing to the beings of whatever strange realm he'd been dumped into—whatever dream he'd been sucked into (he still wasn't convinced any of this was real). Vines slithered up from the undergrowth with unnatural sentience to wrap around his ankles, tentacle like, and only then did Vroskar finally snap out of his stupor.
For a moment he watched stupidly as they twisted up his legs, his brow knit as he stooped over to investigate. He tried to lift a hoof to rid it of the errant foliage but it pulled back and squeezed tighter. Suddenly alarmed he began to thrash his hooves at them, but it was useless; they kept coming, and no amount of protest could bid them away. Higher, still, they crept, til the cold wet arms wrapped around his neck. At once his heart began to beat furiously—faster, faster—til the blood hammered in his ears and the whites of his eyes flashed bright in the sockets.
His whole body was stiff with panic as the vines then crept into his nose, down his throat, provoking tears to needle at the back of his eyes. He began to choke. Normally, this is the part where he would wake up now. Wake up now.
Wake up! cried his own voice. Not his voice, but one that sounded like it, and it echoed into the stillness as he gasped for air.
Just like that, they were gone—
The vines. The eyes. And still he was stranded in that god forsaken forest, choking for air and fighting back the sting of bile in his throat. It felt as though all the blood had fled his body, the familiar warmth stolen right out from under his skin. He shivered against the cold wetness that now became unbearably absolute. He felt... empty. Hollowed out. Like a piece of his soul had been ripped away.
Vroskar swore he heard the creatures of the shade laughing at him from their refuge, pleased with the penance they had robbed from him. For a long while he sat in silence, eyes roving to and fro trying to make sense of it; trying to remember where he had been—what had he been doing?—before all of this. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't think through the smog that muddied his brain. A smog very similar to the shades that whisked all about him.
Hello.
He quaked, still halfway prone on the ground as he wrenched his body around to confront the newcomer. Feeling rather weak in the knees, he didn't make it to all fours. Instead, he kinda sat there with his haunches tucked under him and his ears drooped indignantly. Noticing it was a horse, and not some monster come to torment him, he visibly deflated a bit, reeling his gaze away in quiet condescension, keeping an ear irked in that general direction. He was resentful of having his privacy intruded upon in such a vulnerable state as he was (though relieved all the same to encounter a bit of normalcy at last).
He felt the stranger's eyes as they so unashamedly looked him over, and Vroskar's pride bled a little; a cold wet dog left out in the rain. The stallion introduced himself as Valkyrie, which struck him as a little bit odd but he didn't have enough interest to probe any further.
Especially after he made a comment about his... trinkets?
Vroskar gaped at the stranger in disbelief and shook his head with a sigh. The absurdity of his predicament juxtaposed with the oblivious casualness of the conversation prompt made him downright irritated. He had half a mind to rip the decorations off his horns right then and there. He didn't, of course. "Valkyrie," he repeated, "of... where exactly?" His voice came hoarse and humorless.
Please just tell me where I am.
@Valkyrie
For a moment he watched stupidly as they twisted up his legs, his brow knit as he stooped over to investigate. He tried to lift a hoof to rid it of the errant foliage but it pulled back and squeezed tighter. Suddenly alarmed he began to thrash his hooves at them, but it was useless; they kept coming, and no amount of protest could bid them away. Higher, still, they crept, til the cold wet arms wrapped around his neck. At once his heart began to beat furiously—faster, faster—til the blood hammered in his ears and the whites of his eyes flashed bright in the sockets.
His whole body was stiff with panic as the vines then crept into his nose, down his throat, provoking tears to needle at the back of his eyes. He began to choke. Normally, this is the part where he would wake up now. Wake up now.
Wake up! cried his own voice. Not his voice, but one that sounded like it, and it echoed into the stillness as he gasped for air.
Just like that, they were gone—
The vines. The eyes. And still he was stranded in that god forsaken forest, choking for air and fighting back the sting of bile in his throat. It felt as though all the blood had fled his body, the familiar warmth stolen right out from under his skin. He shivered against the cold wetness that now became unbearably absolute. He felt... empty. Hollowed out. Like a piece of his soul had been ripped away.
Vroskar swore he heard the creatures of the shade laughing at him from their refuge, pleased with the penance they had robbed from him. For a long while he sat in silence, eyes roving to and fro trying to make sense of it; trying to remember where he had been—what had he been doing?—before all of this. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't think through the smog that muddied his brain. A smog very similar to the shades that whisked all about him.
Hello.
He quaked, still halfway prone on the ground as he wrenched his body around to confront the newcomer. Feeling rather weak in the knees, he didn't make it to all fours. Instead, he kinda sat there with his haunches tucked under him and his ears drooped indignantly. Noticing it was a horse, and not some monster come to torment him, he visibly deflated a bit, reeling his gaze away in quiet condescension, keeping an ear irked in that general direction. He was resentful of having his privacy intruded upon in such a vulnerable state as he was (though relieved all the same to encounter a bit of normalcy at last).
He felt the stranger's eyes as they so unashamedly looked him over, and Vroskar's pride bled a little; a cold wet dog left out in the rain. The stallion introduced himself as Valkyrie, which struck him as a little bit odd but he didn't have enough interest to probe any further.
Especially after he made a comment about his... trinkets?
Vroskar gaped at the stranger in disbelief and shook his head with a sigh. The absurdity of his predicament juxtaposed with the oblivious casualness of the conversation prompt made him downright irritated. He had half a mind to rip the decorations off his horns right then and there. He didn't, of course. "Valkyrie," he repeated, "of... where exactly?" His voice came hoarse and humorless.
Please just tell me where I am.
@Valkyrie
