07-23-2017, 08:09 AM (This post was last modified: 07-23-2017, 08:27 AM by Indra.)
some things you just don't forget
CIRRUS:
It was blissful, the ignorance with which they lived, those last days together, whole, a complete family unit.
Cirrus would remember them, always. They would be among her fondest memories, rivalled only by childhood memories containing her own parents, her sibling, her bondmate..
She would replay the memories in her mind: the sound of their laughter as they learned how to run across the sand for the first time; the way they smiled; the way they looked to each other so instinctively, so trustingly; the way they showed promise of growing into strong, magnificent creatures capable of doing anything their young minds deigned to do.
At the back of her mind, she knew it was coming. When she saw the blackness creep at the edges of the land, she knew what had to be done. Looking to him, to Kiro, her mate, her lover, the father of her children, she knew that he shared this knowledge, this understanding.
They had to survive.
So they allowed themselves to be pushed, to be marshalled to the area where this entity, this demon, this Kaos reigned, and the pegasus stood protectively over her foals among the crowd for as long as she could.
But she couldn't stand by forever.
Not when she saw so many she recognised go into the fray. Not when she recognised her sister go in and fight, full of electric fury as always.
"Go," she heard him say, and she looked at him, pulling her eyes away from the action for a moment, tears swimming behind the cerulean pools. "I'll be right behind you," he murmured, and she hated herself for the decision she was about to make.
To leave the foals behind, to hope that their actions might help them live.
"Follow the crowd," she whispered to them, blowing kisses upon their brows, deftly proffering the spear to her son.
"We love you more than anything else," she says to both of them, before turning, and joining other winged warriors into flight and fight.
And the last thing she ever heard, was the despairing scream of her daughter.
KIROTTU:
Bliss. Happiness. A contented existence, lived in determined ignorance of what was to come.
But it came anyway.
It crept in, slowly at first, blotting out the edges of the land we had called 'home' for such a short time. It pushed us away, us and everyone else, the populace of Helovia, all gathered to the one segment of land, to the one place where he ruled.
The Gods were there, and they all rose against this great power, this massive, entropic force that would destroy the realm.
We gathered there too, we watched. Kiro did not know any except those who held his heart - myself; Cirrus; Indra and Eira - but he watched as recognition flared across his beloved's face, as she was pulled between wanting to stay rooted to the spot by her family and wanting to leap into the fight, to try and do something.
"Go," he urged, and my heart broke as he said it, even if I knew it was what needed to happen, even if I knew it would mean the survival of the foals… He glanced at me then, his deep purple eyes imploring me. I nodded in understanding, murmuring a quiet note in response as he added to Cirrus: "I'll be right behind you."
She said her farewells quickly once the decision was made, pressing the shaft of the spear into the colt's gaping maw, breathing notes of love into their nervously flicking ears.
Self-loathing was not a new sensation to Kiro, but it stung as the implications of their decision settled upon his mind. To stand and fight, to protect their young, by leaving them forever.
It'll be all right, I offered, pressing my own maw against each foal in turn as I passed them, doing my best to give comfort in a completely hopeless situation.
It was the image of Cirrus evaporating into non-existence that sealed the deal, that truly committed Kiro to his decision. I felt the rage, the anger, the determination rise within him and scorch away the loathing long enough to force him into motion.
"Go, and live," he said hurriedly to them, choking back his emotions, before turning and running into the depth of the chaos, the entropy.
My soul was ripped apart not long after that.
I charged, stirring my own legs into motion, bowing my crown and summoning my magic, light and dark, poison and blinding, magnificent light.
But it was no match, it never was going to be, and yet still I ran, to join my bondmate in this, our death.
INDRA:
He didn't know what ushered him and his family from the beach they had been born upon to the strange marshes. Was it his parents who ushered him, or the foul-smelling, choking, black air that seemed to follow them everywhere they went, except if they went towards this place?
He stayed close to her, his sister, his sibling. His diminutive wings, scarcely feathered and very downy, always reached for her no matter which side she stood on, always seeking that contact, that comfort. He and she would be safe, if they only stayed together - right?
Tension was palpable, it made the air feel heavy, the atmosphere thick and the colt's nerves stand on end without any discernible cause. He was jumpy, twitchy - he did not like this feeling (little did he know this would become 'normal' for him).
So they moved, they walked and they gathered. Steely grey eyes watched the world, their expression unsure, unsettled - the colt had never seen so many other beings, as young as they were, they had hardly left the sides of their parents or each other, scarcely noticed that others even existed in this world.
Breaths came quickly, as in a sudden flurry, he had his mother's spear in his maw, and then she was gone, and then his father, and Younma too.
"Eira…" he said, but she was gone, and then he was moving too, moving with the crowd, the bodies pressing against him - and then he was delivered to this new world, this strange land.
A dull thump announced his arrival, a deep grunt rolling out of him as he landed quite unceremoniously on his side, his barrel deflating as he gasped, flailing until he was upright, stretching his legs out.
Where there was a crowd of bodies, there suddenly was none. Where there was his sister, there was no-one.
"Eira!" his voice shouted, but the sounds were muted, swallowed by the strange surrounds that was this strange new world.
"EIRA!!" he screamed his sister's name, knowing even without truly realising that there was no point calling for his parents now, knowing that of his family, only his sister was left - but his sister wasn't here anymore, wasn't near him, wasn't within reach of his wings anymore..
"EIRA!!"
I n d r a
sxc.hu | whimzi on deviantart
Magic:
:: [ Magic: EarthxWater | Able to shapeshift into a winged lion, retains same colours. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Immobilized for 10 seconds. ]
^ SAFE
:: [ Magic: LightxWater (P) | When coat is wet, blue roan turns to silver. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Of no use in battle. ]
Items (Normal):
:: [ Item: Spear | Offensive. Long wooden spear with a silver pointed tip. ]
^ SAFE
:: [ Item: Feathers | Two of Azzuen's feathers tied onto the shaft of spear. ]
Requests:
Would love to keep his Helovian Passive magic, however if it gets eaten by the rift, I wouldn't be opposed to it changing his appearance to essentially look like a bucket of silver paint was dumped over his top half, trickling down his dark blue roan self. Or just eat it completely too xD
The shadows writhe around; there is still more to eat, and this neon light is ever hungry. The now brightly burning lights consume you as you enter into the Rift. Though the Portal has sucked you it, it strangely shies away from the death you have left behind in the godkilling land.
The Rift was too close to death, itself, to linger where you have been.
So it slips away, shadows moving onto more magical beings.
Nestled beneath the heavy boughs of gnarled, ashen timber, the tiny orphan hid timidly from the darkness which slipped and slithered like a hunting serpent through the strange, neon forest all around her. With sombre blue eyes fixed upon its fluid lip - trained to each sly swoop and swirl - she scarcely noticed her name as it was born upon the thick, pregnant air. As it grew in both strength and proximity, however, the nervous flutter of downy blue ears swivelled forward, tasting with surprise that fond familiarity, and her gaze diverted suddenly.
Indra?
"Indra…!"
Her voice lifted through the humidity with a renewed sense of hopeful vigour, forgetting with childish narrow-mindedness, the predatory fog which had ravaged her bones and seared her collar; the miniature wings (barely larger than the size of Da’s hoof), left behind, fluttered wildly on their own accord, and the putrid smelling acid-burn between them, still ached awfully.
So too had a scalding, bumpy rash risen across the delicate young skin towards the centre of her belly. Though small, it caused her severe irritation, and constantly, unwittingly, she kicked at hard its surface.
"Indra?" She called again, feathery voice shrill with desperate anticipation. Delicate hooves scrabbled clumsily beneath the weight of her trembling, starving body, and the legs which flung about between, were weak and reluctant. Always the little winged filly searched through the overgrowth, longing for any sign that it was indeed her brother’s voice that she followed.
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."
His voice was growing hoarse with his shouts, the one word he knew best, he knew perfectly, the name of his sister, he repeated it, filling the air with his cries not a breath after the echo of the previous call had faded. His throat hurt, it ached, but he could not yet see his sister, and so he continued to shout, to cry, heedless of the tears that wet his face, uncaring for the way in which he crashed about the land, searching, looking, seeking her roan hide, her feminine form, her beautiful and simultaneously fragile, perfect, pristine self. He had to find her, he had to be near her, because they had to live - that was what father had said, right? Live!
"EIRA!" his call was almost pleading, begging his surrounds to reveal her, to present her to him. He was as demanding as he was praying to gods or whatever it was that ruled this land, and it was only when he thought all was lost to him and a moment of silence pressed against his ears that he assumed the wind had somehow breathed his own name back at him.
…Indra…
Was it his mother, the blessed cloudmare whose pelt mirrored the skies above? Was it his father, the strong and proud beast whose body sometimes failed him but whose heart always remained true, at least to his kin?
But then the colt remembered, he recalled the troubling, terrifying event that had just unfolded, the memories dancing in the forefront of his mind with stinging clarity, the fleeting images of his parents both going to their deaths as the world around them all crumbled and fell into nothing.
"Ei -" he went to begin again, but then he heard it, the sound, the cry, the question, posed to the eerie wind, the wind that they were born in, connected to. Silver streaks ran down his chiselled, youthful face, marking the tears that had fallen, but his entire posture stiffened now, rigidity casting him into a stationary stance as his steely gaze pierced his surrounds with unforgiving sharpness.
A footstep, a movement, another whisper, and he was forward again, determination filling his body now, certainty that arose from youthful naivety pushing him onwards. He called out, a whinny this time, a wordless greeting to his sister, a final plea that he might be on the right path to her, that he might know her form on the plane of his steely gaze again.
And then a movement, and hope flared painfully in his chest, as with his mother's spear in his mouth, he whirled to face the perpetrator, downy wings flared and nostrils gasping to taste the strange air before him.
But then the spear was dropped, and the colt was moving forwards with his muzzle outstretched, for it was her, his sister, his wombmate, his twin.
"Eira," he murmured, his favourite word by far, his smile unmistakable as he reached out to embrace her, to feel her against his own plush maw. The marks upon his face were fading, the tracks of his tears drying and turning dark once more, as his body hummed a low whicker, relishing in the simple pleasure he felt at this moment.
(For he hadn't yet seen that she was changed, possibly hurt, but surely when he did, everything would change once more).
I n d r a
sxc.hu | whimzi on deviantart
@Eira
I swear he'll say something other than her name in my next reply lolol
Though gangly and long, proportionately, those lean, fickle limbs covered very little ground as she strove through the dense, fluorescent wilderness in pursuit of his voice.
It was a world of vicarious colour and looming giants, both overwhelming and intimidating, and Eria found it difficult to navigate; three times already she had clambered over root and vine to find only web like blockage of growth at the end (there were no trails, no reason for her to believe that others like them were existent - but Indra was near, and he filled those ravenous blue contours with hope.
“INDY!” She screamed again (it never crossed her mind that predators might loom in to sinister snarl of flanking shadow) …
“Indra?”
For a moment she paused, pale face thrown to the leaden sky (or the jungle which obscured its view), blue eyes traipsing hither and thither, anticipating the next boyish yell; without hesitation, the closer still sound of her beloved twin, a whinny, came barrelling towards her.
It felt as though a thousand butterflies had suddenly taken flight in her belly and their tickling, tumbling wings against that taut confinement, encouraged an eager smile to crack the otherwise withered expression. The tiny filly was sure that footsteps murmured in the undergrowth just ahead, and downy ears responded quickly, straining forward, leading a sudden - precarious – headlong charge.
“INDRA! I’m here!”
He was so close she could practically taste his sweet, perfect scent on that stiff, stale air; fighting fervently to break through a snare of entangling vine and then she was free, beyond that horrid labyrinth of neon underbrush and into a clearing where the colt stood flared and fantastically brave. “Oh, Indy!” She squealed softly, springing forward without reservation to plant herself beneath his gaping wingspan.
Fondly, velvety lips nuzzled a path down that familiar girth, nostrils fluttering, drinking in her favourite flavour; “I love you so much…” though tears streamed down her face, streaking smearing silver through his murky coat, the pain of loss and confusion, fear and disfigurement, were in those moments lost - for nothing else mattered quite as much to her as the other half of her soul.
The Portal
Eira
