The Portal
07-24-2018, 01:58 AM
Yves’ eyes finish their lagging adjustments – he’s not used to psychedelic neon lighting, okay? – and he finally fully makes out his visitor. Greeter. Attacker. Whatever. Yves has height on his side, but apparently that’s about it. Despite the bungled landing, there is no denying this pegasus’ deft build; the athleticism and poise, the easy confidence with which he holds himself. Sleek and cloaked in velveteen midnight, adorned with strikingly long horn and wings – something Yves feels his distinct lack of following his foolish challenge. Sure, a talented equine fighter might stand a chance against a winged, horned athlete, but we've already been over Yves' inexperience in the fighting department. He heaves a quiet sigh of relief that he is declined, but decides to remain vigilant. You know. Just in case.
The conversation so far is stilted. Yves probably deserves at least some of the blame for that. The titles and storied lineage jumble together – the gray does enjoy history and in another life he would probably have enjoyed prying for the rest of the story, but these days he has lost his patience for that game. He gleans the information he deems most useful: Helovia. The Rift. And what the hell, he might as well store Virga’s name while he’s already committing things to memory here. “Yves. World’s Edge.” He huffs, scarcely trying to hide his attempt to hurry through the small talk and get to the crux of the issue here. He does not stop to ponder and instead jumps straight ahead to disagreement (his ever-ready first instinct): “The Rift came to Helovia, not the other way around.” Because disagreeing with reality and known facts has always proven to be such an effective strategy.
Then again, being in the Rift would make sense. The wild colors and glowing lights, the eyes and black snow, all of it was reminiscent of the strange Riftians who had started showing up in Helovia…
As the realization dawns, Yves scowl deepens. “The damn gods couldn’t just communicate with each other and let the mortals live our boring lives where we please, could they? What is it to them? Fuck off already!” His voice quickens with emotion, his accent growing heavier the faster he speaks. He's not tense anymore - now he's just pissed off. In fact, he scarcely remembers Virga is still there. “This is stupid,” he declares with finality and an irritable stomp of his front hoof. As if suddenly remembering the pegasus’ presence, Yves' eyes narrow in on the beautiful and, judging by his title, evidently battle-hardy creature expectantly. With that easy confidence, he sure seems like a man with a plan. “So what now, Virga?"
The conversation so far is stilted. Yves probably deserves at least some of the blame for that. The titles and storied lineage jumble together – the gray does enjoy history and in another life he would probably have enjoyed prying for the rest of the story, but these days he has lost his patience for that game. He gleans the information he deems most useful: Helovia. The Rift. And what the hell, he might as well store Virga’s name while he’s already committing things to memory here. “Yves. World’s Edge.” He huffs, scarcely trying to hide his attempt to hurry through the small talk and get to the crux of the issue here. He does not stop to ponder and instead jumps straight ahead to disagreement (his ever-ready first instinct): “The Rift came to Helovia, not the other way around.” Because disagreeing with reality and known facts has always proven to be such an effective strategy.
Then again, being in the Rift would make sense. The wild colors and glowing lights, the eyes and black snow, all of it was reminiscent of the strange Riftians who had started showing up in Helovia…
As the realization dawns, Yves scowl deepens. “The damn gods couldn’t just communicate with each other and let the mortals live our boring lives where we please, could they? What is it to them? Fuck off already!” His voice quickens with emotion, his accent growing heavier the faster he speaks. He's not tense anymore - now he's just pissed off. In fact, he scarcely remembers Virga is still there. “This is stupid,” he declares with finality and an irritable stomp of his front hoof. As if suddenly remembering the pegasus’ presence, Yves' eyes narrow in on the beautiful and, judging by his title, evidently battle-hardy creature expectantly. With that easy confidence, he sure seems like a man with a plan. “So what now, Virga?"
And the bones of small contention are the only food the hungry find.
header clipart: creative market
@Virga
