Rainforest Cliffs
07-31-2017, 07:08 PM
"Hey," he greeted Otem softly as she placed herself beside him and Volterra, quietly attentive to Kisamoa, as they all were. Iskra couldn't know all the workings of her mind - he still barely knew her in any fashion at all - but he suspected she shared some of his same thoughts given both their mothers had been destroyed because of this monster in front of them. In a show of solidarity Iskra leaned slightly into her so that if she didn't move away his shoulder would press against hers; a method of support, of comfort (even if not for her, then for him). Was she just as angry? Was she also wondering how to take down this titan of entropy? Iskra might have been shocked to learn she wasn't.
Volterra's voice saying his name refocused Iskra on the Sultan. He smiled at first, thankful for the familiarity in the black desert-dweller, glad for the image of a leader in this wayward time, and happy that the stallion knows him by name even. Yet the grin falters, and Iskra stiffens a bit, eyes glancing away. What exactly do you say to that? "Thanks for your apology, it means a lot? I feel better now?". It wasn't anything Volterra did wrong, Iskra knew that, besides what else can you even say when someone dies, much less like that? There's nothing but grief and emptiness, and hollow words to fill it. "We've all lost something," Iskra finally mumbled in response, glancing back up. "We have to make sure that doesn't continue," he says with a strength and certainness that won't remain for long - just a puffed out chest and a stern face for the crowd.
Ears fell back as Kaos spoke, teeth tightening on each other as the merciful being mocked and insulted their ruined homeland, fallen deities, and tattered families. "You were wrong, I am right, so bow to me now or die," was the gist of it - a charming introduction to the church of the Rift.
Is Iskra understood more about the truth of what drove Kaos, he might have been more understanding. All he knew was the fables his mother had shared though, and all that was apparent to him was a cruel and spiteful monster that was not above deception and betrayal, qualities that did not seem worth worshipping in any god (one of the Moon's greatest flaws on Helovia). The end does not justify the means - if Kaos was truly wronged, then doing more wrong would not make anything right. He punished the innocent and guilty alike, all in the name of vengeance and just deserts. Iskra was left to suffer for the wrongs of his mother, while others who had actively participated in the slaying of the Rift gods were left alive. There was no sense in the punishment, and so it did not, could not, settle inside Iskra.
That the creature spared them and promised rewards did nothing but solidify Iskra's disapproval. If killing them all isn't the answer then surely bribery, right? Iskra snorted. No matter what flowers this beast decorated itself in, it had already shown its true face, and it was ugly, and Iskra would never forget.
Teal gaze darted back towards Volterra as Kaos made his departure, though soon enough Iskra was ducking under his raised wings to keep the abrupt rain off his back. Thus he didn't see the teal mist travel to Otem, and only turned back to her when she nudged him.
"Hmm?" he asked, distracted with all these strange, uncomfortable feelings of hate churning inside him. "Oh uh yeah here I'll get it out," he murmured as he reached to tug one of the leaves from her mane, oblivious to their magical nature of even the fact Otem might like them.
Whether she moved away from him, or he continued to absently struggle with the leaves, didn't matter once a familiar voice prodded him from the side. Iskra paused for a moment, sucking in a breath of apprehension, before turning to Mauna with a freshly drawn smile. "Hey Mauna Mauna, fee fie foe fauna!" Iskra greeted cheerfully, hoping to raise the little colt's spirits with his silliness if nothing else. He reached over to gently tousle the boy's mane-fuzz, lipping affectionately at his withers. He could see the weariness in the boy and it troubled him, but he mistook it for sadness, for a mellow personality, not the gradual malnutrition he was combatting. So when Mauna asked him if he'd seen his mom, Iskra didn't let his smile falter even if it was like pompeii crumbling into ash inside of him.
"Your mom kid? She was smote," just didn't seem like the proper thing to say, no matter how much you classed it up. Besides, Iskra would let the father lead that discussion, and if Zekle hadn't told him yet, Iskra bet he had good reason. Better to save him from some pain, at least for a while.
"Not yet, but maybe we should have a look!" he hoped he sounded as upbeat as he imagined in his head because it was all he had not to let his voice crack, not to let his eyes dull or his features falter. Quickly he glanced over at Otem, hoping she'd be tactful enough to be kind in this moment. "This here is your sister though, Otem!" Iskra stepped back a step so Mauna could get a better view of the leaf-maned girl on his other side.
Volterra's voice saying his name refocused Iskra on the Sultan. He smiled at first, thankful for the familiarity in the black desert-dweller, glad for the image of a leader in this wayward time, and happy that the stallion knows him by name even. Yet the grin falters, and Iskra stiffens a bit, eyes glancing away. What exactly do you say to that? "Thanks for your apology, it means a lot? I feel better now?". It wasn't anything Volterra did wrong, Iskra knew that, besides what else can you even say when someone dies, much less like that? There's nothing but grief and emptiness, and hollow words to fill it. "We've all lost something," Iskra finally mumbled in response, glancing back up. "We have to make sure that doesn't continue," he says with a strength and certainness that won't remain for long - just a puffed out chest and a stern face for the crowd.
Ears fell back as Kaos spoke, teeth tightening on each other as the merciful being mocked and insulted their ruined homeland, fallen deities, and tattered families. "You were wrong, I am right, so bow to me now or die," was the gist of it - a charming introduction to the church of the Rift.
Is Iskra understood more about the truth of what drove Kaos, he might have been more understanding. All he knew was the fables his mother had shared though, and all that was apparent to him was a cruel and spiteful monster that was not above deception and betrayal, qualities that did not seem worth worshipping in any god (one of the Moon's greatest flaws on Helovia). The end does not justify the means - if Kaos was truly wronged, then doing more wrong would not make anything right. He punished the innocent and guilty alike, all in the name of vengeance and just deserts. Iskra was left to suffer for the wrongs of his mother, while others who had actively participated in the slaying of the Rift gods were left alive. There was no sense in the punishment, and so it did not, could not, settle inside Iskra.
That the creature spared them and promised rewards did nothing but solidify Iskra's disapproval. If killing them all isn't the answer then surely bribery, right? Iskra snorted. No matter what flowers this beast decorated itself in, it had already shown its true face, and it was ugly, and Iskra would never forget.
Teal gaze darted back towards Volterra as Kaos made his departure, though soon enough Iskra was ducking under his raised wings to keep the abrupt rain off his back. Thus he didn't see the teal mist travel to Otem, and only turned back to her when she nudged him.
"Hmm?" he asked, distracted with all these strange, uncomfortable feelings of hate churning inside him. "Oh uh yeah here I'll get it out," he murmured as he reached to tug one of the leaves from her mane, oblivious to their magical nature of even the fact Otem might like them.
Whether she moved away from him, or he continued to absently struggle with the leaves, didn't matter once a familiar voice prodded him from the side. Iskra paused for a moment, sucking in a breath of apprehension, before turning to Mauna with a freshly drawn smile. "Hey Mauna Mauna, fee fie foe fauna!" Iskra greeted cheerfully, hoping to raise the little colt's spirits with his silliness if nothing else. He reached over to gently tousle the boy's mane-fuzz, lipping affectionately at his withers. He could see the weariness in the boy and it troubled him, but he mistook it for sadness, for a mellow personality, not the gradual malnutrition he was combatting. So when Mauna asked him if he'd seen his mom, Iskra didn't let his smile falter even if it was like pompeii crumbling into ash inside of him.
"Your mom kid? She was smote," just didn't seem like the proper thing to say, no matter how much you classed it up. Besides, Iskra would let the father lead that discussion, and if Zekle hadn't told him yet, Iskra bet he had good reason. Better to save him from some pain, at least for a while.
"Not yet, but maybe we should have a look!" he hoped he sounded as upbeat as he imagined in his head because it was all he had not to let his voice crack, not to let his eyes dull or his features falter. Quickly he glanced over at Otem, hoping she'd be tactful enough to be kind in this moment. "This here is your sister though, Otem!" Iskra stepped back a step so Mauna could get a better view of the leaf-maned girl on his other side.
Victory is in my veins
I will not negotiate
I will not negotiate
Iskra
@Mauna @Otem @Volterra
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
