07-14-2017, 08:24 PM (This post was last modified: 07-23-2017, 01:56 PM by Zèklè.)
Zèklè
You land on your feet - in the most literal sense, and is that way only. Outwardly you are upright and steady; inside, though, you're still reeling. Your emotions, your thoughts, your world - it's a fucking whirlpool, nonsensical, dragging you down toward some dark and toxic epicenter where no light could ever reach. What the fuck happened what the fuck happened whatthefuckhappened- these are the thoughts racing through your head on repeat, panicked and garbled and in the fullest throes of denial. Its a question you have no answer to, because the truth (they're all dead), the reality (all dead), the answer(they were killed and they exploded and now they're dead, so dead there's nothing left to bury, so dead there isn't anything past a memory for you to even touch)-
-well, it's just too much to bear.
How does life go on now? How do you pick yourself up and continue to live? It helps that you're already standing. You inhale deeply. Step one: get on your feet: check. Done. Now what's step two?
Ma would know.
Ma didn't know shit!
Ma is dead.
Fuck. Okay. Breathe. Breathe. You've got this. Ma's dead and Da's dead and Iso's dead and basically everyone is fucking dead, but you aren't, and Mauna and Iskra aren't, and you have to keep on living for them, no matter what. You look around, sunbeam eyes unfocused and unsteady until they catch sight of something familiar, and immediately your gaze grows sharp. Your throat is dry from screaming sobbing, and you lick chapped lips before calling - "Sparky? Mauna? You guys okay?" Gingerly you take another step, pushing past debris and undergrowth, trying to get closer to your brother and son. "It's okay," (it's not), "we're gonna be okay," (you're not)"everything is gonna be okay."
You're a liar, Zero, but you'll lie until your tongue falls out, if only to help them.
Step two is Mauna and Iskra, and step three... you'll figure out step three when you get there. At this moment those two are all the steps you have, all the pieces that remain of your broken life.
"Talk."
And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a queen and I'm a lionheart
Magics:
{*]:: [ Magic: EarthxWater | Able to transform into an underwater panther, which retains his lightning markings. ] \n:: [ Restrictions | Transformation causes immobilization for 10 seconds. ]\n^ SAFE PLEASE\n\n{*}:: [ Magic: EarthxSpark (U) | can use minerals from the earth to make golems, which give out electric discharges on command ] \n:: [ Restrictions | golems degrade over 1 site year without maintenance; can respond to commands but lack any real intelligence; can create 1 large, 2 medium, or 3 small per season ]\n\n{*}:: [ Magic: EarthxLight (P) | Titanium slowly grows from the area where his left wing should be ] \n:: [ Restrictions | Titanium will have to be removed once yearly or else it will entirely consume his body ]\n^REQUEST BELOW\n\nEnchanted items\n{*}:: [ Item: Dagger (\"Forza\") | Offensive. A small iron dagger with a black hilt which is enchanted with an ability which allows the viewer to see an ongoing event in a nearby land when invoked with the phrase \"the watching shift goes ever on.\" (from Ampere) ]\n:: [ Restrictions | The event must be occurring in an active thread within a board adjacent to the board where the viewer writes as using the item. Due to the small viewing plane not all details of the event will be seen or understood. ]\n^SAFE\n\n[*}:: [ Item: Metal Wing | A wing built of titanium, attached to his body through the metal on his shoulder. Movement allowed by a series of gears, springs, pulleys, etc, all with the living metal on his body running through. ]
^REQUEST BELOW - if can't have the request then safe, please!
:: [ Item: Mineral Golem | Offensive. Medium sized turtle golem made of sandstone, obsidian, titanium, and mother-of-pearl (made by Zekle Orangemoon 8) ]
Amulets : 1 Kaos, 1 earth
Requests: If his passive magic and wing item could mutate into a permanent titanium wing growing out of his side I'd really, really appreciate that <3
ITEMS:
:: [ Item: Leather Dagger Sheath | To wear around wing joint. (from Ampere) ]
:: [ Item: Charm Bundle | 7 small gemstone charms on a titanium chain bundle || 1 oak acorn, 1 glowing green orb (Light of the Turtle), 1 crescent moon (moonstone), 1 lightning bolt (aquamarine), 1 raw sapphire, 1 sun (dragon's throat key), 1 crown (fire opal) ]
:: [ Item: Gaucho Feather | Normal. ]
:: [ Item: Ampere Feather | Normal. ]
:: [ Item: Zahra Feather | Normal. ]
:: [ Item: Harness | A leather harness that fits over his shoulders and wings, engraved with fire and lightning, from which hang a collection of small bags and pouches ]
:: [ Restrictions | Offers nearly no protection ]
Yeah, get your shit together, man, put your goods on the table I want to eat them eatthemeatthemeatthem—
It rips through you like a whirlwind, a cackle and a hurricane. Let it be known that this land is victim to its own fancies. Sometimes, it doesn't mind that you're happy. Sometimes, it can't stand it. Sometimes, it doesn't mind that you're sad. Sometimes, it has to gloat.
This was the latter. The shadows bloomed and pulsed and the trees groaned as they twisted.
Magic:
Transformation: Can transform into an underwater panther. The Rift eats your ability to make golems. You don't know how or why, but from somewhere, a random bone is thrown at your head. The Rift eats the growth of titanium, or rather, stops it dead in its tracks, because you'd look ridiculous ten years on from now otherwise.
Items:
Offensive: A small iron dagger with a black hilt. It bears the name of "Forza", and is enchanted to allow the wielder to see an ongoing event in a nearby land. To trigger the ability, one has to say "the watching shift goes ever on". The Rift does something to your metal wing.
Offensive: A medium-size, turtle-shaped golem. It's made by Zekle, and made from sandstone, obsidian, titanium, and mother-of-pearl. It's an irascible creature, as likely to obey a command as to do the direct opposite. On occasion, it makes pearls.
Amulets: They blow up. Poof. But Earth had that one last gift for you, and Kaos the means to power it; if it's just the purpose of the magic, or some agreement beyond the grave (this is, after all, a good thing happening) is impossible to tell, and we'll never know. But your shoulder twitches, and you just know it in your soul that just as the titanium growth has stopped, your wing is fused to you now. It won't fall off. It won't degrade. You can't exactly feel it like you can the other, but it's now part of you in a way it quite wasn't before.
07-15-2017, 05:58 PM (This post was last modified: 07-15-2017, 09:06 PM by Iskra.)
Iskra & Zèklè
I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been
Don't you tell me what you think that I can be
I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea
By the grace of the fire and the flames
You're the face of the future, the blood in my veins
It's an impossible thing to describe, the events that have just transpired in less than 24 hours, and the feelings they leave like bruises across Iskra's being.
It began in Helovia, with the bonding of his companion and the batshit break down of his mother. She became vicious, in a way that Iskra had been fortunate to never experience, but managed to glimpse on the battlefield. It was as if she looked at him with different eyes, eyes that didn't belong to her but some terminator robotic hell-mare. He was ashamed of the rage he let boil over inside of him, of the actions it seared into his muscle, like he was nothing more than a puppet to be pulled at the whims of his anger, regardless of how justified or not. It was embarrassing because it was too much like her, just reacting and never thinking, hurting instead of helping.
At some point he probably would have faced her again, an apology blubbering on his lips because some part of him would always be the child seeking her approval and her pride. It wouldn't have been that day (today actually, but it seems like a lifetime ago already), not when he still held anger in his gut like a heavy stone, not when fear still rode his back and made him tense with worry and anxiety - but he would have eventually. Except, now he can't because as he and Zekle and Mauna and so many others shuffled into the Marsh, the entire world changed.
It started with Kaos' voice, a sound that dredged up the memory of betrayal Iskra first felt when Kisamoa was de-masked and defamed. He set his teeth together with an audible click, grinding them as they marched to face the Deceiver (but to what ends, with what means but battered body and bone?). It didn't make sense at first - the horses that charged the god and were obliterated. Without any blood or light-less eyes, it almost didn't seem like death, just another magical twist of their fucked up realm. It wasn't until it kept happening, as more and more flung themselves into the fray and the wail of the ones they left behind raised into something hysterical, that Iskra started to recognize the pure panic that was seizing over him. An innate need to get the fuck out sparked inside of him, but just as equally his body was held fast and rigid, incapable of moving even as his soul screamed at it to do so. There's nothing worse than being at war with yourself (something Ampere knew all too well).
Then it was Tae and Grusha who were perishing, and a new scream added to the cacophony of disaster. Iskra was so overwhelmed by the serenade of tragedy crescendoing around him that he didn't even recognize it was his scream until he was breathless when it was Matheo that evaporated next. Soundlessly Iskra's maw gaped, his eyes so wide the tears were held back, and only his body could shudder and convulse with the unfurling despair.
Then it was his mother's voice lifted into the din, a sound so clear to him it cut across all the shrieks and the sobs. Instantly Iskra's gaze snapped towards her, still for just a moment as he watched the great lightning mare stand in the face of true death, all for the sake of those weaker than her. You can't protect them if you're gone though! Iskra wanted to wail to her, but it was too late, Kaos had already taken notice and with a waning lack of patience, removed her.
Ampere was consumed not by sparks, but black smoke and teal light until she was nothing. In her last moments Iskra saw regret. Not for the deeds she had done, or the last stand she made, but for everything she had never managed to accomplish, for the family she left tattered in the need for absolute freedom for all. The blue of her gaze searching out the crowd (searching for him and Zekle?), before locking with the green parrot at her side. Her mouth moved, but she was too far to make out her final breath; something that seemed apologetic, but not afraid. "I'm sorry Kygo," because the parrot bound to her could not escape the demise either.
"Don't be," he said forcefully into the last echoes of Ampere's mind as she vanished into powder and memories; he dropped like a stone into the rubble of Helovia below, forgotten.
Iskra can't honestly remember what happened next, because he broke. His legs, so sturdy and incapable of movement just before, now went limp and threatened to send him to the earth where the utter chaos would trample him into the marsh. He staggered instead into Zekle's body, and a flurry of teeth and shoves and shouts cast him into the portal.
He came to in the Rift, strewn unceremoniously on his side, as if he had merely slumped into this new world and been spat out in a mess of feathers and heartache. He contemplated staying on the ground, just letting the soil claim him and drag him down into an abyss; it seemed more appealing than everything he had just lived through, everything that could potentially occur again. It was only Zekle's voice that managed to rouse him, a flicker of some hope, the glow of a lighthouse cutting through the fog after a terrible storm. Iskra lifted his head, only then aware he was soundlessly crying, his body and soul too numb otherwise to fully react, driven instead to a state of shock and momentary stasis. It'd all unravel over time in the shape of endless nightmares and the involuntary flinching at life.
A faintly blue thought cascaded across his being just then as the little whale at Iskra's side bobbed around from under his wing. "Hey," Iskra said hoarsely, his throat raw and dry from his gut wrenching shrieks. He'd almost forgotten about his new buddy in the shitstorm they'd been caught within since his birth - what a way to greet the world. The little whale responded with a squeal from its blowhole, delighted that they were both 'okay'. A burst of richer, deeper blue splashed in Iskra's thoughts, evidence of this joy.
If Iskra wasn't able to live for himself, he'd definitely live for this whale. It'd prove to be his angel, and it needed as suitable a name. So, days after the whale hatched, Iskra finally named him, "Okay Castiel, let's stay together." It was a promise more than anything.
Iskra lifted himself to his feet with a struggle, a bit sore from his landing and his emotional wreckage. His head was pounding and his legs still felt uneasy, but he was alive. Items from Ampere lay scattered all around him, and he stared at them for a good long while before reaching for them. Each touch felt like her maw running across him, a faintest whisper of his voice, and quicker he moved to gather them, these last fragments of his home.
"ZERO!" he bugled out, coughing again as his voice cracked.
Magics
SAFE :: [ Magic: FirexWind | Ability to superheat air round object to move them. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Items must be within 10m radius. ]
:: [ Magic: FirexDark (U) | Ability to transform into a lion; mane is composed of fire. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Transformation is painful. Lasts one post in battle. ]
**:: [ Magic: FirexSpark (P) | Wings produce harmless sparks. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Of no use in battle. ]
** Just to clarify, sparks is both little fire embers and little lightning bolts.
Enchanted items
SAFE :: [ Item: Warhammer ("Peacekeeper") | Offensive. An iron warhammer gilded with gold and copper; fire/lightning sparks produced from hammer, feels lightweight to its owner. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Sparks cause mild pain. ]
:: [ Item: Dagger ("Ampere") | Offensive. A small iron dagger with a black hilt which is enchanted with an ability which allows the viewer to see an ongoing event in a nearby land when invoked with the phrase "the watching shift goes ever on." (from Ampere) ]
:: [ Restrictions | The event must be occurring in an active thread within a board adjacent to the board where the viewer writes as using the item. Due to the small viewing plane not all details of the event will be seen or understood. ]
:: [ Item: Shield ("Dragon's Sun") | Defensive. A metal shield capable of collapsing for easy use with leather strap. Engravings of the sun on its exterior. (from Ampere) ]
:: [ Restrictions | Is the same weight collapsed or expanded. ]
:: [ Item: Mineral Golem ("Squishy") | Offensive. Medium sized - Built in Year 5 Orangemoon (from Zekle) ]
**:: [ Item: Enchanted Bone Collar ("Gaucho") | Offensive. Worn as a thick band of leather just above the shoulders; pressing a button in the center causes bone-spikes 2 inches in length to uncoil and protrude. (from Gaucho) (from Ampere) ]
**request below
Rift-god / Kaos items
:: [ Item: Vial of Wolf God Blood | Blood from the Wolf God of the Rift ]
Normal items
:: [ Item: Boogers | A vial of boogers. ]
:: [ Item: Jewelry | Gold earring. ]
**I'd also like to bring in a blue feather from Ampere, a green feather from Kygo, and Ampere had a black feather from Gaucho I'd like for Iskra to have as well if possible!
A green glow strikes out from the roots, leaving sharp shadows. Mere moments before, it was small, dim, dying a hostile and unwilling death. Obstinance and vicious twisting of any unsuspecting creature had kept this dim glow alive.
And now?
Now its is bright and gleaming, keen and painfully bright spikes of light spearing out between buttressed roots. It singes skin; it latches onto magics, devouring what it can and leaving mutilated remains of what it cannot.
Magic:
Offensive: Ability to superheat air round object to move them.
Transformation: Ability to transform into a lion; fireworks explode in mane.
Defensive: Wings produce sulfurous sparks.
Items:
Offensive: "Peacekeeper;" Iron warhammer gilded with gold and copper; fire/lightning sparks produced from hammer, feels lightweight to its owner.
Offensive: "Squishy;" Mineral golem that parrots rude phrases repeatedly.
Offensive: "Gaucho;" Bone collar of leather and pressing button in center causes 2" bone-spikes to levitate along wearer's neck.
Defensive: "Ampere;" Iron dagger with a black hilt that turns on wielder and attempts to stab them when invoked with the phrase "the watching shift goes ever on."
Defensive: "Dragon's Sun;" Metal shield capable of collapsing for easy use with leather strap. When struck, sun engravings flash with flames.
Rift-god/Kaos Items: Light intensifies around the vial of blood you carry; an angry humming emanating from it. Your audacity at claiming godsblood has been noticed.
Amulets: Forces twist and gather, eagerly nipping and biting the sparks beneath your wings. But they are not enough--oh no. These hungry, sightless mouths go further, latching onto your wings and feathers. But your wings are large, and the Rift has gorged itself; so, it drops out of its too-full jaws small drops along your back. In a few days' time, these glowing blue spots will sprout small, frilly gills.
Sidhra hadn’t wanted to go over and greet any of the newcomers, but that didn’t mean Anuya couldn’t. She waited until her sister was gone before drifting towards the groups of creatures pouring in through the portal. Because of them this place had taken a magic from her - she could feel the absence after the hiss had wrapped around her.
They had taken their gods, and now they had taken her magic, so she wasn’t really planning on just leaving them alone - they didn’t really deserve any privacy during what seemed to be a very tragic time for many of them.
Still, when she started to approach a pair of young looking males she did feel a little bad for them. It couldn’t be that easy. They looked to be related but, really, she barely looked like any of her siblings (minus the long, fuzzy ears) but - maybe blood was stronger on the other side of the portal. Her bright, glowing eyes flickered to the portal for a moment, wondering whether she would be able to get through it to the other side the way they had all come here (and mentally making a note to throw a few rocks through it later), but then she focused on the reuniting pair.
Her smile grew bright, almost wild, as she took them in and how strange they were. She wanted to run her muzzle along the metal wing of the elder boy, and test whether their lightning markings were like the strange lights that danced across the sky here, but she stayed mostly still - her large ears twitching a little at the effort it was taking. “HI!!” She practically shouted in their faces, but forced herself to speak in a quieter voice when she continued - glancing around as though checking for someone. And she was - what if Sidhra caught her?
“You guys are new here, huh?” You know, as if they hadn’t just kinda fallen out of the sky.
Everything was fleeting, swift, intangible – he didn’t know enough to understand the pivotal weight of loss or what he’d left behind – just that his mother was gone (simply gone), and no matter where he looked, stared, over the strange, new horizon, she wasn’t there. The mountain boy had no sense of death and the end of vitality, how their bodies left and their essences faded, how bits and pieces of them simply remained in the memories of others; Isopia was still sunshine and raven talons, cunning and quiet, aloof and golden. She’d been life, that much he could comprehend, given and granted and bestowed upon his little grulla hide – and when he’d reached for her time and time again, she’d accepted his touch, his silliness, his youthful, whimsical delights, with a small smile. Now there was no glimmer, no sign, no restless corporeal signature of her existence anywhere, and no matter how many times Mauna had asked, into the wind, into his heart, into his small, fledgling soul, she’d vanished into particles of air and dust, of shadow and demise, of power and pestilence. He didn’t dare inquire his father again about her whereabouts, because he’d hate to see the pain strike across his features (and he didn’t deserve it, not his dad, who was like the very notion of the sea and waves, the air and tides, remnants of sand and surf). So the child let it simmer and settle like a riddle, like an enigma, ghostly and phantomlike, a wraith on his tongue, an emboldened venture on his mind, and thought at the first chance he’d look for her, find her flames and feathers on the fringes of this odd, bizarre horizon, safe and whole and warm, and their family would be fine, would be strong, would be enduring.
But he listened – to the way Zero’s voice shook, flicking his ears back and forth as he lay pressed against the ground, lifting his head in a cheeky little smile reserved for his sire (like delight and mischief, like joy and wonder, like an impish faction he’d yet to lose). He uncurled, unfurled, released his wings and plumage in a wondrous, evening haze, where they ran from ivory to blue, yelling over the granules of earth stuck to his maw (and the soil seemed to call to him, over and over again, but he didn’t comprehend its notions either; a pattern on this unknown plane). “Dad!” Then, his crimson gaze (too serene, too gentle now to be reminders of blood and crimson; rubies, clawed from the confines of caverns and soil) focused on another being, uncle Iskra, staring over various objects littering the ground. For a few seconds, he almost thought to inquire over what they were and how he’d gotten them, but then the shape of Ampere, his grandmother(lightning and ferocity), rekindled across his brow, all instances and moments from shattered hours, and he wisely kept the query to himself. “Are you all right?” He said instead, sidling closer to the older lad, blue and gold, offering his tiny, velvet muzzle along Iskra’s shoulder, a tepid smile in turn, afraid of how far too press, if he could see Ampere on the skyline and all would be well (too many wraiths, too many horrors, in one singular place). The tiny whale shark golem floated beside him too, angelic and enchanted, his father’s gift before the world turned and spit them all out (and all the while he could hear his sire murmuring how they’d be okay, and something apprehensive pulsed within him – eyes glancing, staring, across the endless abyss, the channels, the Rift, searching for someone who would never come again).
Then, one more – a stranger, nestled into their realm, shouting their hellos, and his stare settled on her (long ears were the first things he noticed, then the rampant hues and colors, like the midnight sky, like the constellations, like the galaxies floating up in space). “Hello,” he mumbled, much quieter than her, uncertain, unsure, flicking his attention briefly to Iskra and Zero, then back again to the stranger.
Mauna
CROWNS HAVE THEIR COMPASS-LENGTH OF DAYS THEIR DATE-
TRIUMPHS THEIR TOMB-FELICITY, HER FATE-
OF NOUGHT BUT EARTH CAN EARTH MAKE US PARTAKER,
BUT KNOWLEDGE MAKES A KING MOST LIKE HIS MAKER.
{*]SAFE (:: [ Magic: Earth | Can transform into a Mountain Lion. ] \n:: [ Restrictions | Immobilized for 10 sec. ]\n\n{*}SAFE :: [ Magic: Wind | The ability to use the air/wind to cut into opponents. ] \n:: [ Restrictions | 5m radius; superficial wounds. ]\n\n{*}Not safe: :: [ Magic: EarthxFire | Ability to control magma. ] \n:: [ Restrictions | 5m radius. ]\n\nEnchanted items\n[*}SAFE (:: [ Item: Mineral Golem | Offensive. Medium sized whale-shark golem made of sandstone, obsidian, titanium, and mother-of-pearl (made by Zekle Orangemoon 8)
Requests:
It'd be awesome if his magma magic could be mutated! ;D
The light grows ever brighter, arcing out from the hypothetical center of this displaced world—it shears through shadows and souls, trees and bodies. It is like a hot, scorching kiss, the salt poured onto blistered flesh; it leaves marks, but does not destroy.
This is not a place of balance, but it is not a place of arbitrary evil, either. It is a place of need and greed and desperation, of survival, just like any other.
Magic:
Transformation: Can transform into a mountain lion.
Offensive: Can form blades of air. The bright, green light sears your soul, and savagely wrenches the third magic from you.
Items:
Offensive: A medium-sized, whale shark golem made of sandstone, obsidian, titanium and mother-of-pearl. It was made by Zekle.
"MAUNA!" you holler back, your voice cracking as you peer toward the source of his voice, of Iskra's, hurrying forward, the need to see them, to touch them, all the propulsion you need. The light is so unnatural here, but it is not the weirdest thing. You balk and blink as your amulets explode, a surge of energy engulfing you, making your eyes water. Not important now. Iskra and Mauna are steps two and three, they're important, they're the goal, even though your wing hurts like a bitch and your side feels all dead and you're seeing little spots in front of your eyes because of the weird flashy lights. You need to find your family, your boys, to make sure they're okay - and they are, they're there, surrounded by Ampere's things (don't think about it don't think about it don'tthinkaboutit), Sparky accompanied by his remarkably cheery little whale, and Mauna...
Mauna is lying flush on the ground, and it doesn't matter that he's breathing, that he's moving, that he speaking and the neurons in his head are firing and he is so very obviously not dead. You're on your knees beside him in a minute, your wings spreading wide to sweep him up, to wrap him and Iskra and the whale into a bubble of safety, of isolation, of home, to shield them from the outside horrors. Your nose runs quickly over the newborn's hide, pressing and peering, investigating all the last little corners for secrets, or pain. When you find no obvious blemish you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. "Good," you breathe, "You're okay. It's gonna be okay." Your sunbeam gaze turns to appraise Sparky, resting fondly on the whale that seems blissfully unaware of how the world has gone to hell in a hand basket. "We're all okay."
And though you're still in mourning, though your heart hurts so much you don't know if it even exists, you feel a soft fluttering of hope, a little light of happiness in this dark, miserable hell. They're okay, and as long as you keep telling them so, maybe they'll believe it. Maybe it will be true. You let the whisper of a smile curl at your lips, let the slightest sparkle return to your dead eyes - and as though it's nothing, as though it doesn't matter and nothing matters and everything is okay, you press your face against Mauna's belly and blow, your breath forming loud raspberries, a callback to a simpler time.
It's a brief respite - all your respites are brief, these days. From behind you a bright voice rings out, and your body stiffens tangibly in response, muscles clenching into rigidity. Somehow you manage to both spin and splay, your wings still spread to protect the boys, your tailfeathers raised, your ears pinned back. Are you guys new here? - and with this the long-eared stranger seals her fate, sets herself apart, marks herself as part of this miserable place, the child of a miserable god, slayer of mothers and sisters and lovers. Your voice lowers to a rumbling growl, the hurt in your heart swelling and rising until it is a beast, the weight of your pain propelling your anger, filling you with something blinding, something reckless, something that resembles your parents in the height of their heat, the inferno of their rage. "Yes," you snap, every inch of you bristling. "And you are...?" It's not normal for you to hate, but then, what even is normal anymore? You hate her for being part of this place, hate her for taking from you the instant of happiness.
And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a queen and I'm a lionheart
08-06-2017, 04:19 AM (This post was last modified: 08-06-2017, 04:24 AM by Iskra.)
Iskra & Zèklè
I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been
Don't you tell me what you think that I can be
I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea
By the grace of the fire and the flames
You're the face of the future, the blood in my veins
Iskra blinked hard against the piercing, unnatural green light that slithered around them. He didn't notice the way it moved across him at first, didn't recognize the things it morphed or added. He knew that there was something though, because he felt it gnawing at his wings, and hastily he tucked them to his sides. Then it was throbbing against Ampere's his trinket of gods blood, humming so loudly, so horribly, that even as Iskra buried his ears in his mane he couldn't shake the dreadful sound. He backed away, but it ceased, and abruptly Mauna's touch replaced the terrible stain of the rift. Iskra jumped a bit, startled by the child, but recognized his nephew with a smile and a quiver over his muscles. The young boy was his family now, and he'd embrace him, though it was hard to lend his heart fully to the boy when it was shredded into so many bits and pieces in the wake of all that he (they) had lost.
At Zekle's approach, Iskra relaxed further, exhaling audible relief with a shuddering snort. As Zekle wrapped them up, Iskra shifted his body, shouldering new weight with all of Ampere's equipment. A brief, passing through sped past his mind - that he ought to share with Zekle, because he'd lost her too, she was his mother too. As his brother began blowing raspberries at Mauna however, Iskra decided not to bring it up, allowing a moment of selfishness. Zekle had grown enough, had loved others, but Iskra had only known her. Although she was not the things she had carried, Iskra found remnants of everything he cherished within them.
The Warhammer he had found on his own and was clumsily uncertain of what to do with it just yet, but the shield - a symbol of protection and engraved with the sun, it was reminiscent of their sandy homeland. Whether it had been named before or not Iskra gently whispered a new calling to it, "Dragons' Sun," before settling it between his wings. Then the leather strap that he slung about his neck, he knew to have once belonged to his father. Ampere had worn it, less out of necessity or use, than out of love and memory, and so Iskra bore it in the same way, and dubbed it in his sire's likeness, "Gaucho." for it was both strong and durable, smoothed for now, but capable of creating prongs to thwart off harm. Lastly, a dagger. Iskra looked down at it with a quietness, knowing it had been with his mother the longest, something she had been gifted by Helovia along with others for her allies in a war waged against the strong for the sake of the weak. It was only capable of inflicting pain, and though it was to be used aga8inst your enemies, it could easily be turned against its wielder if handled improperly or carelessly. It was too much like his damn not to earn the name "Ampere." Before putting it away however, Iskra ran his whiskers over the steel blade, remembering a time when he'd watched her with it. There was something magical about it - something she used to say.
"The watching shift goes ever on," he breathed. The blade shimmered, and Iskra expected to see within it's metal a nearby land, as he knew its enchantment to be. Yet the metal quivered for a different reason, rising of its own volition, then reaching out with hungry teeth to stab at Iskra's still outstretched muzzle.
Anuya had approached just then, and Iskra's head lifted as his ears flicked at her excitement. The blade whistled past his nose and glanced off his shoulder with an angry red line. Iskra yelped and leapt back, and the strange, albeit pretty mare, quieted and softened. Iskra couldn't focus though, because Ampere had turned back and was aiming for his side, distinctly accurate and deadly. The irony of it all was lost on the boy as he scrambled to dodge it, earning another bloody streak on his haunches. Zekle was already standing before him, prepared to shield them from this stranger, the events all unfurling in rapid succession.
"Stop!" Iskra cried out, "The watching shift stops!" he even tried as he danced around his blade. He might have drawn out his shield if he were more practiced with battle or all of his accessories, but as it was he remained harassed by his blade. "Help, Ampere is attacking me!" he wailed frantically.
Behind him Squishy loudly greeted them all with "FUCKING BITCH!"
"You're cute." She commented to the youngest of the trio, who offered her a mumbling hello. She was feeling pretty happy about how this was going! Maybe these strangers could even be friends. Her large ears were perked up and her eyes bright... until the oldest of the trio caught her scent.
She recognized the emotions but she actually looked around for a quick moment because she wasn't quite sure that hatred was directed at her. Her ears drooped when she realized that it was and she took a small step backwards - hating herself for thinking that maybe Sidhra was right and she shouldn't have come over at all. "Uhhhh I'm Anuya..." And she didn't really know what else to say after that.
Which didn't matter, anyway, because she watched in horror as a blade glanced off of the third boy's shoulder - causing him a yelp. She shouted out of sympathy for him - gesturing wildly at the angry-boy because she was definitely not who he needed to be worrying about right now.
Short of throwing herself in the path of the knife, Anuya did at least have one little trick. Focusing as much as she could, she tried to use her telekinetic abilities to still the knife and hold it in one place to help give some relief.
The Portal
