Conditions Of My Parole.

Bubbles.

The perfect potion for a dull mind and a shitty day. They tingled when they popped and it was so easy to make a dozen more. He was sure he had been standing in the lake for hours, only making more and more bubbles while the cool water gently bumped his belly. Filling his lungs with air again, he could hardly keep the giggle down in his chest as his maw was forced into the liquid and new bubbles was born. This was too much fun! The large stallion almost danced of excitement as he prepared for another batch, but he stopped midway when he noticed a patch of black, oozing water just a few feet from where he was standing.

Holding his breath still, he made a few steps towards it, his curiosity too forceful to fight. Without blinking, he lowered his massive head and just slightly touched the edge of the blackness and that was it. Suddenly it felt like he was standing in the middle of a powerful river as strong current dragged him into the whirling, black water. He fought with all he had, trying to find footing to drag himself away, but it didn't make a difference. Within seconds he was dragged under and he was sure that this was it. Now he died.

But he didn't.

Water was swapped out with air as he fell. The ground did not do much to cushion his landing or make it softer, but at least his behind took most of the fall. He didn't know what had happened and therefore tipped over on his side like a tree that had been cut down. It could almost look like he was sleeping, but when he opened his eyes again, he was quick to get up. Holy shit! Adrenaline was rushing through his body while he almost frantically let his white eyes search the new place. This was not where he had been blowing bubbles and this was certainly not a happy place where someone would go and throw a party. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, letting calmness grab a hold and force his sore muscles to relax.

Well then. Let's see where the fuck he was.

OOC Notes:

Magics-

{Temperature | Active | Is capable of lowering his body temperature beneath sub-zero temperature, allowing him to freeze whatever he touches. This includes the ground.}
{Passive | The white on his coat acts like snowflakes that twinkle in the sunlight and when it\'s dark. Some fall off when he moves, but the white markings are permanent.}
{Passive | Glowing white eyes and red markings.}


Normal Items-
{Black bear hide}
{Black great sword}

Zahra and Ilham

It was pride that turned angels into devils

It was pouring. Furious rivulets formed and flurried down through the thickened winter coat that the golden-bellied girl was wearing and only brief time passed before she was soaked to the bone, shivering in the chill murk; wilting like a burdened bough in the rain. 
 

The downpour caused the frail arachnid frame of her bonded much grief; the smooth silver face of their collar offered no traction at all, and droplets still larger than the whole of her, threatened ominously to wash her downstream. Gravitating to the ebon warmth of the mare’s lean shoulder, spiked toes plunged between sleek, sodden hairs to secure a hold and pull the orb of well-nourished abdomen beneath the sanctuary of hanging, oil-slick mane. Cosy was the shelter there found, and Ilham nestled down to wait for a break in the weather.

 

All the while, the obnoxious deluge distracted both mare and companion from the silent evaporation of the amulets so cherished; they had been gifted by her parents before, each before death. Each magical trinket winked soundlessly into nothing, and with them (albeit less visibly), was stolen the enchantment from her father’s green-leaf charm. 

 

Discomforted by the cold, and the shadows which still swirled through the strange, eerie under-belly place, the winged girl found her bearings enough to travel; to seek out cover beneath the old twisted trunks of fluorescently lit timber, and the vines snarled throughout. It was an unsettlingly peculiar dimension into which they’d fallen – indeed she remembered the strangeness that had spewed from these parts, a year or so past.

 

Pale eyes search carefully, charily, unbothered by the host of searing eyes (they grew no nearer), but all the same, wary of the new, neon nightmare which had stolen from her, death. She could not step freely and it caused much frustration in the already frayed contours of her blackened mind, and each motion forward became aggressive; hoof rim striking with diminishing regard for the obstacle presented by this new, natural world. 

 

It was as she drove forward, slicing crudely through vine and glinting loam that the daughter of the Starry-Eyed came reluctantly upon another.

 

Instantly she paused, tested the waterlogged air for taste of his unfamiliar flavour, but without hint born upon it, she gestured forward with voice instead. “You, there… friend or foe?” Her tact and once fluent social grace had all but been lost in the years spent confined, and the tone written beneath cared little to disguise her gruff mood. 

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@Dreadnought

This place looked like a shithole. Not a single thing he saw pleased the eyes and the continuous downpour had already started to glue the white strands of the forelock to the red and black on his face. Well, at least it matched his mood. He sighed lightly and decided a good stretch may kick his brain cells into working properly so he could figure out how a simple pond could turn black and swallow him into what seemed to be a different dimension. Without an ounce of grace, he pushed his large chest forward, letting his back legs stand firm as his head sought towards the wet sky.

Pop.

Holy shit. He wan't a colt anymore, that was for sure! Even his back begged him to be careful. Fuck this then. He found his normal stance after giving his body a firm shake to get rid of the water, but also to loose up any muscles that had tensed after the unfortunate fall. It wasn't until he settled that he heard an unfamiliar voice. His head turned against the source and for a second he regarded the other in silence as the question hung between them.

It was not hard to figure out it was a she and that made him automatically tense up. His head was held high, his stance was close to regal as he finally spoke. "For you, little one - always a friend."

@Zahra

Zahra and Ilham

It was pride that turned angels into devils

As the giant swung his head to meet her demand, the full extent of a nightmarish, despicable impurity (from her perspective), became unsettlingly apparent; Zahra swallowed hard, but not for the sake of fear… nay. 

He was one among many, struck by incurable disease, six-times horned, unfortunately disfigured, and the golden-bellied girl couldn’t help but cast her narrow-minded judgement upon him - staring superfluously down the bridge of her pale nose. 

There was no doubting his enormity though (perhaps the reason audible condemnation was unusually withheld), and the slump of white, water-logged forelock framing that red-tattooed face, did little to mask his imposing presence. In fact, the arachnopile felt uncomfortably small, pale, in his shadow and smartly sought a less - challenging - facade to adopt. 

Interesting…

Gauging, guiltless glare slides from one piece of flesh to the next, until they have covered every available surface and she smiles reservedly, as though to banish the twinge of concern. 

"Excellent..." she croons broodingly, both touched and surprised by the smooth, mellow, masculine tone. Gullible also, stood amid that first impression. Wet tendrils licked about the bony points of each hock as the preoccupied spider-mare flicked her long, thin tail. 

Perceptive and shrewd, she had noticed quickly that those plunging through the portal had come from the same place as she - Helovia; yet, she could only presume that one as, imposing, as he, shouldn’t seem so unfamiliar if he had, in fact, fallen from there too. Dipping her chin in a feigned show of politeness, she queried calmly - "from around here are you, sir?”

Indeed it would be handy to find allegiance among the natives - even if there were stupid looking and cursed ‘bone-heads’… An overly warm smile curled her lips, and dwarfed hooves (in comparison), slid a little closer, tempting his reaction. All the while, her wings, legs, sinew stood coiled and ready to draw back. 

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Differences attracts they say. but in this case, he had not yet decided if this first meeting would mean anything at all. Only a few times had he crossed paths with souls that had buried themselves deep in his heart and mind, and still, after all this time - all these years - he still could see their faces when he closed his eyes.

A Soldier. A Queen. A Princess.

They haunted him no more, as their memories were more pleasant than an open wound stuffed to the brim with salt. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, making the scar on the right side twist almost uncomfortably. He did so while he watched her find her manners and in return, he lowered his head in a polite nod. "No." Was his answer once his head had found it's place on the craned, hairless neck. He stood his ground when she ventured closer, only to truly get the feeling of the difference between them.

The little one was small, but shared some of his coloring. Not that it mattered anything when it came to whom he found interesting or not. She could have been bright pink for all he cared. But she did have wings placed alongside that tiny frame of hers. And he did like wings for some odd reason. Before she stopped, he moved his body closer to hers. Despite his height and weight, his movements were still elegant like those of a lighter breed, as he managed to keep his head level and stop it from swinging from side to side as it normally did when he walked.

"And you, little one. You seem too pure for this place."

@Zahra

Zahra & Ilham

It was pride that turned angels into devils

The mammoth stallion appeared conveniently, to accept the sudden swing of her temperament (her forward movement), and a secretive, smug smile slithered fleetingly through her expression; in the same instance, as her subtly provocative advance he answered with an unexpected ‘no’, and with a cocked brow she swivelled her white face to study him.

No?

What sort of world would birth a face like that then, horns, if not the magical underbelly with its swarming shadow, fluorescent highlights and unflinching eyes. The arachnophile shrugged casually, dismissing the suggestion visibly before him, though internally she stewed with some suspicion over already rampant backup theories. 

In a bold gesture, her maneless company moved to eliminate all remaining distance - even before her own hooves had come to rest - and one astute ear switched to regard him. There was no doubting his elegance, that suave swing of his enormous skull and the unreal length of the silvery forelock above it; yet, all that glamour could not compete with the distraction of his helmet. Stepping clear of his foreboding form beneath the guise of faux fatigue, she slender girl forced a modest yawn, all the while aiming her swinging hips past his breast. With a blasé flick of silken tendrils in her wake, and Zahra asked, "so are you coming?”  

Always presuming he took the bait, she swanned along leisurely before him as though months (not hours), had been spent learning the otherworldly contours of the Rift. 

Distracted she answered the question deliberately left hanging, “you’re smarter than you look, big-guy…” Her tone bore sass that impressed even her, yet beneath it, lurking like the monsters in her dreams, a sobering blade of grim remorse threatened to throw her game.

'What are you doing?'

The concerned hum of Ilham’s thoughts intervened, but the golden-bellied girl defied both her better judgement and bonded, and flaunted a cute grin back over her shoulder. “What do I call you anyway?”

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@Dreadnought

A newcomer—but this one tasted… different. The shadows nearly wheeze with excitement; neon flares all around the titanous, horned creature. The gold one—she’s already been sampled; the shadows have already taken their fill of that one.

But this new creature. It’s big, meaty, with magic that didn’t scream or whine like the others. So the shadows linger; bright blue light creeps up your limbs slowly—tasting, tasting, tasting.

Then, with a sharp abruptness, the harsh glow rips away from your form, leaving you bereft.

the Rift

image

[ACCEPTANCE NOTES : DREADNOUGHT ]

Magic:
Defensive: Horns are sub-freezing and coated with red-tinged ice.
The light morphs on of your delicious magic and licks away the other .

Vanity Magic:
Vanity: Glowing white eyes and red markings.


Normal items are accepted fine! Just use this thread as link-proof in your profile :) Welcome!

The game was on.

The invitation was not easy to miss, not even when he tested her limits and got elegantly dismissed. Playing hard to get was the usual game, one that even a Queen would play out of boredom, but he - he had won more times than he could count (and it was not that he could not count high). So he stopped and regarded her in silence without answering. He always had a choice when it came to situations like this, but he rarely had anything better to do and therefore acted upon his impulses whenever he felt like it.

And he would have followed her this time too, had flares not suddenly appeared around him, creeping and hissing. It turned into a blue hue, crawling up his limbs, coloring his legs as it moved. He tensed every muscle in his body, but dared not to move in fear of what would happen. Creatures of flesh and blood never managed to strike fear into his heart, not like this. With ears pulled flat against his skull, he breathed heavily, the chest filling with air as his eyes started to glow. It was like the bottomless whiteness extended into the world, soon followed by red light from his face and left hind leg. His horns grew colder too, almost wheezing when the rain hit.

Then it was over.

Just like that the presence pulled back and he allowed himself to step to the side, as if that would bring himself farther away from whatever it was. His eyes darted from side to side, finding her and settling before he forced himself to relax. It had not hurt him, but he still felt different - better. Then it hit him - Daudir. The pelt. The two items he truly owned had been left on the shore when he had taken a swim. This was where he broke. Not caring what he looked like or how uncool he would seem, he threw himself around and went for the place where he had landed, taking long strides to cover the distance faster. There was nothing to see in the place where he had fallen, but, by a miracle, he could just see the edge of the blade hidden behind a nearby tree.

It felt like he had found a long lost friend, as a rare smile graced his glowing features before pulling out the hide and the blade. Not intending on loosing either again, he threw the bear hide over his back and fastened it with the simple leather straps that was attached. It covered him from mid neck and all the way down to his knees, hiding whatever white marking he had on his body. Had he not been glowing like a Christmas tree, he could have blended into the shadows on a dark night. "My friend." he said quietly as he picked up the sword and carefully slid it under a strap on his side. Now it would never get lost and he was whole again.

With a deep breath, he collected himself once again before walking back to where the little one stood. "My apologies. I am not accustomed to having blue smoke suddenly appear under me." With a leg extended onto the ground, he bowed as deeply as his body allowed, his horns still sizzling and his face glowing bright. "I am Dreadnought."

@Zahra

Zahra & Ilham

It was pride that turned angels into devils

But even that was impossibly short lived.

Feeling less than appeased with the whole situation, the golden-tinged girl watched warily as the giant threw himself from her company and set about searching the soggy loam, for something. Cocking one hind leg impatiently, she watched on with a bemused frown, not the least bit interested in chasing him back towards the ‘start’.

That wasn’t the game.

Sighing heavily, pointlessly, into the steady, unremitting downpour, Zahra considered abandoning him, whatever feeling, had kept her from pulling away to begin with. "Uh… guy?" She sang with some sullenness to the swinging tail pendulum of white turned towards her, but after fluffing about for that small amount of time, he slipped beneath the drape of a heavy black quilt (of sorts), and began back in her direction.

The giant apologised, and made passing comment about the blue lights which had - virtually - ambushed him; the feathered girl nodded briefly, an attempt at dismissing any remorse he felt the need to have. But he wasn’t done…

One hair-smothered hoof was extended beyond its natural realm and his enormous size buckled down towards it. Her heart lurched (though her body did not), convinced that he was going to plunge face-first into the mud; as sooty lips peeled away into a ready grimace, eyes too squinting to perhaps save him excess humiliation, she prepared to pretend not to see it. As she dared a second glance, the arachnophile quickly noticed that he was balanced there as though it were natural, and his smooth voice revealed his name, ‘Dreadnought’.

"Ah… Ok then, Dread-nought," she offered, stepping back, uncertain, staring with a quirked brow, "…are you hurt or something, in your leg?"

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It was not hard to be courteous. It surprised him sometimes how little manners other had when first meeting someone. He did not expect anyone to show as much politeness as he himself did, as he had learned the hard way to show respect to anyone new. You never knew who they were or what titles they possibly had tied to their name, so it was better to be on the safe side. But even he had limits. When he got no name back when he had offered his own, he pulled the extended leg back under himself and once again let his head rest on top of his thick, arched neck.

For a moment he did not answer, only regarded her and her words, before it seemed like he made a decision. "You mean this one?" He asked while lifting his red, now glowing, left hind leg up and close to his belly. "No. I am not hurt. It is how I was born." Not having noticed it glowed until now, he kicked it lightly as he watched it, as if he could shake off the effect. "It did not glow before though. That is new."

When the shaking made no difference, he let the hoof touch the ground again. Suddenly feeling a bit funny (and somehow naughty), a grin appeared across his maw and he leaned his head closer towards where she was standing. "But tell me, Little One - Do you shit gold?"