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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » Guidebook

Sleep well, and dream of fat prey that runs slow…
RP Wanted The Portal 

“Sov godt, og drøm om fettbytt som går sakte,” was the wry phrase that continued to resonate through her mind, even now, nearly fifteen days later (as the crow flies), was curling an existence too into her bright, bold expression as an everlasting smirk. “Sleep well, and dream of fat prey that runs slow…”

They were the words imparted by the High-Maiden to the competing Sisters right as the golden ribbon marking the start-line was sliced in two.

Valkyrie had never even seen a man before. She was riding the thrilling high of excitement still, of eagerness and determination to succeed; to win! The Daughter envisioned him to be, naturally, an aesthetically repulsive, slothful, beast who’s physical strength far outweighed his intelligence; he was of a dull, unappealing hue probably, like brown, or muddy black, with ravenous and beady, callous, cunning eyes up front. She’d been taught to detest him, to seek his eradication above all else - for justice - though also, to approach him like she should a serpent, with heed and suspicion, for he was a neanderthal-like savage who sought no better victory than control over womankind.

“Men have no place in Loorien…” She confirmed the thought in soft, yet resolute tone, feeding hungrily on the hot surging adrenaline in her veins.

She just needed to find one.

The weather had taken a turn for the worst during the early hours - it was cool, refreshing. Rain gushed down from a blackened sky and somewhere behind her, the heavens mumbled gently. The most ominous looking clouds, pregnant and brooding, had gathered en mass against the bright blue day, and the star-spangled night which had been before it; a strange wind had gathered speed - quite unsure, however, about the direction it felt it must drive. It was unlike any storm she had before encountered and it only fuelled her exhilaration for the adventure unfolding.

Still, there was always one thing missing along the way.


She traversed both field and forest, hill and valley, yet there was no trace of civilisation in the tattered, feral wilderness beyond Sunnmøre; neither equines like she, nor birds, skinks or even flies were nestled about the lush contours. It was disconcerting, to say the least, but without the curse of doubt to douse her flame,  and hamper her stride, Valkyrie continued on nonetheless deterred. Returning without him wasn’t even a consideration.

Without the sun or moon to guide her, the pale young horse soon lost track of time and direction. The darkened hours seemed increasingly endless and though her mind rang loudly on to the tune of her quest, steady limbs began to waver with fatigue. It was time to rest. Glancing between vegetation through the murky shadow of the storm, water beading on tilted lashes and flooding any bold attempt to behold her surroundings in full, Valkyrie paused her stride and began (with use of her telekinetic ability), to clear a site beneath the weighted boughs of a small, elevated grove. The spear which accompanied her, that carried also by each other member of the Sisterhood, came to rest on the ground nearby. Slowly she slid the sticks and slimy stones most visible from the earthy, wet bed, into the shape of a rough, snug ring. Before long the tired Daughter had collapsed within the makeshift nest and fallen into deep slumber.

It was unusually dark outside.

The wild wind howled loudly and whistled between jagged granite tors outside the cavern, and the warm, constant glow of the lanterns above swayed gently, soothingly, back and forth, back and forth… Against her on two sides, the warm bodies of Sisters, of Mist and Kára, pressed, breathing softly and rhythmically as they dreamt beneath the fog of deep sleep. Valkyrie could not surrender herself to the same so easily though, this night; she lay restlessly, disturbed by the whisper of childish want through her mind, and the unsatisfied flare of arousal through her core.

It seemed Sigrún suffered the same.

A shadow slipped by the room’s carved doorway, rousing the Daughter’s attention; downy jawline lifted from the nest of soft white feather and fur. Lashes fluttered, vainly attempting to mask the rise of delight through her expression - the relief and burning, ignited desire simmering within - the same look which glazed the other’s alluring gaze so unabashedly.


That breath, the hot, sensual caress as the Shieldmaidens’ lips ghosting across her quivering skin, stirred forth a familiar, irresistible ravenousness in her belly. A flustered flutter of nostrils startled the tension in the silence, and her Sister recoiled suddenly; Valkyrie’s ears followed swiftly above the shift of velvety, pink lips into the lonely void between them and ivory lids split to reveal the surprise pooling in those icy-blue eyes. Where, however, the beloved woman had stood, a wisp of smoky air waited, stagnant, and a bemused snort erupted from her lungs - it was merely mist, after all. But the thick billow of air did not recoil as intended, it lifted peculiarly, sliding around the invisible puff of disdain sent forth, like a prowling snake. Joints clicked in protest as she gathered limbs beneath her rapidly, rocking to the sky in a heartbeat - with a thundering pulse and heating core.

What in the name of the Shield?

The rain had stopped, though her coat was still soaked through. The cloud cover had lifted enough to grant light to see a fairer distance and it became apparent that the mist, was in fact all around; it had crept forward like the hand of death, silent and unexpected. With her mind, Valkyrie reached hurriedly for the spear where it lay - the strange fog licked by it, teasing perhaps, testing her resolve. The weapon swung clear, landing between the snarl of parted teeth. It was surreal, paranormal and she wasn't sure what to do. “State your business!” the Daughter demanded, pushing the sensible quiver of uncertainty from her young voice, and thrusting threateningly a hoof into the earth now shrouded in gloom. There was too, a queerer taste to the air than had been - metallic maybe? Certainly not the earthy perfume of over-watered soil…

The mist remained silent, undeterred. It loomed forbiddingly.

Hocks bent awkwardly, as she endeavoured in the next instance to reverse, but as her eyes peered around to view the path in that direction, Valkyrie discovered to her shock, that the cloud had gathered there yet thicker even still - she baulked forward in fright, appropriately unsettled by the situation unfolding. The mist split somewhat then, revealing a path that its prisoner dared not resist engaging, and neat, clean hooves found themselves sunk beneath a new, foul-smelling substrate - a marsh. It seemed not to be any ordinary marsh. Where perhaps a pond or lake should have shimmered in the twilight, a menacing whirlpool of black smoke appeared; yet try as she might to fight the herding smog, to escape, the Daughter found herself ever nearer to it - and sinking.

It was pulling her in!

No matter what amount of training had bid her heart fearless, Valkyrie was now at the mercy of ignorance and fear swelled within her like a rising ocean tide. “NO!” She shouted, scrabbling backwards through the devouring soup at her heels, “OH NO!” But her effort, the thrashing and wielding of weaponry was futile against the magic around her, and within only seconds she was plunging - sprinting beyond all will - hurtling, downwards as though through the ebb of time itself.

Should she have been anything less than a Shieldmaiden (never mind in the making), Valkyrie might have screamed until the very blood coursing through her heart ran as cold as the Sunnmørian mountains she loved missed so terribly. Instead, the brave Daughter fastened her jaws together in such furious defiance that the blunt molars within began to grind sickeningly together, and she ventured a brazen glance downwards into the depths of the silent, spiralling darkness ahead. The air grew stranger, hardly stale, though not anything like the crisp fresh wind which had worried the long, wild, ivory tendrils of her mane barely seconds before - it seemed to hum through her, to resonate like the flurry of magic as it stirred to life through her veins; it was stagnant but seemed, all the same, to suck her plunging form ever downwards, to rake at and fondle the sweating contours of her skin.

The feeling was terrifying; it was thrilling!

Soon though, after what felt to the Daughter like a lifetime, tortured by suspense and caught in the limbo of unknowing, a new canvas of smoky light emerged like a pool beneath her and she was thrust right into it by the strange, sizzling atmosphere. Hooves collided against the cushion of grassy loam, a surprise indeed, and for a moment her sight was blinded by the dazzling addition of supernatural neon hues. Though her ravaged body trembled with weariness and each burning knee begged for respite - willing the weight above to fall to the ground - Valkyrie staggered to a standstill and hung in place with a look of baited apprehension plastered across her pasty, pink-accented face.

Offensive Magic
Telekinesis: Able to move inanimate objects with her mind.

Normal Items
Helm: Detailed with gold, silver and bronze, and two aquamarine gemstones; it sits across her brow, with ornate wings that fan backwards against her own.

Spear: A detailed titanium spear.

(thank you to whoever reads it all x.x if you need any clarification skim through her history)

It'd become a habit for him to lurk around the Portal. Not that he was really waiting for anyone, or was he? It was simply that his mind had processed that creatures entered the Rift from here, and there were quite many. Big and small, fast or slow, ugly or pretty; and not to mention the brilliant variety of colors and abilities. He had been awestruck by the amount of diversity this land held, and although it lay dark for them to lighten again; he couldn't help but find beauty within those who inhabited it.

So it was on long and ungraceful legs that the yearling made his way back to the entrance. He could feel the distinct thrum within the vegetation that something was coming through. Eyes of ice were focused, and with each step he would glide slowly on the ice that instantly appeared beneath this hooves. That was another thing that intrigued the boy about this place. Whenever one would enter into these lands they would approach, take what they pleased and sometimes leave behind a gift.

His sister had lost her magic, but in return had had her amulet turned into beautiful golden flecks that graced her fiery bodice. Vynter was fortunate enough to have kept his gift from their deceased mother, but the Rift had not spared him entirely. Where before when he would talk, ice would indeed form beneath this hooves, but never would he have issues with his balance. Now as he stood still along the edge of the entrance, his hooves had begun to slowly slide from beneath him, attempting to send him off kilter once again. This didn't help his already clumsy nature.

As the colt predicted, someone indeed was approaching; as the portal began to pulsate and brighten into multiple colors; it soon spit out a paint much like himself. When she landed she was left haggard, obviously exhausted yet refusing to give way to the Rift's pressure. Her coat was pale, almost creamy, the contrast of her cremello patches barely noticeably against the stark ivory of her skin. In her skull were two large blue eyes, expressive and obviously confused as she seemed to be taking in her surroundings.

Although she was quite obviously a beautiful mare, none of this registered in Vynter's mind. What he had immediately focused on was that she had two wings sprouting from behind her ears. They indeed moved, at least he thought so from this distance; and he couldn't help but feel an urge to come forward and press his nose among the feathers in an attempt to feel if they were in fact authentic.

So it was with this goal in mind he began to emerge from the bushes; his tall yet still childish form moving awkwardly towards the beauty. With each step his crippled wing would twitch against his back, beginning to drape ever so gracefully over his rump like it were a cape. Yet he paid no mind to how he walked or presented himself; there was simply too much to explore and investigate to worry about such frivolous things.

Soon his maw was pressing itself against her wings, gently caressing them with the utmost curiosity evident in his white complexion. He was silent as always, focused on the task of discovering just how her wings worked. Could she fly with them despite the disproportions? Was it a birth defect as his wing had been? Or wherever she came from was it simply common for wings to be sprouting from behind ones ears. These were the thoughts that were running through his mind as he slowly pulled away, his breath still hot upon the appendage as his expression remained soft and focused.

It was only when he was certain of their authenticity did he finally meet the woman's gaze, gauging her response to his actions in a way only he could.

@Valkyrie <3
For someone who slipped and slid around the land on ice, Vynter could get around. Though his steps were still not as quick as they may have been. Allowing the large mix-breed to keep up with him as the yearling lead the way to the portal. The taste of magic was heavy in the air. Something was afoot. Vynter seemed to be fully aware of this as he determinedly made his way to the portal's location. Leaving Roscorro to follow in his icy wake like a deformed, smoke trailing, shadow.

Massive and imposing as ever the giant swept his head back and forth, long pointed ears ever moving, as he searched for danger. The eyes that always occupied the dark forest stared back at him. Thousands twinkled in the shadows, watching them go by. But nothing truly stirred. Perhaps it was the two pieces of hope that floated around the males that kept the creatures at bay. Or perhaps everyone knew that the Rift was at it again and were keeping their heads down. Smart. So why were they walking straight into it? Because Vynter was on some sort of mission and the tender hearted Clydesdale couldn't leave him to face portal alone.

So when Vynter suddenly disappeared int oteh brush Rscorror's heart nearly stopped. "Vy!" He called out, hurrying after him. He plowed through the brush, devastating the plants with his mass as he entered the clearing. He stopped at the sight of Vynter fondling a mare's.... ear wings? "Vynter." He rumbled. "Give the lady some space, please." She looked utterly lost, shaken and confused. The usual reaction when one finds themselves with the Rift for the first time. Poor thing. His eyes softened as he turned his warm gaze to the creamy stranger. "I apologize for Vynter's actions. His curiosity often gets the better of him." He took a step towards them. Smoke fell from his body at the movement as his scales and spines glinted in the light. "My name is Roscorro. Are you okay? Is anything hurt?" His large head cocked as he looked her over, searching for any injuries. He knew not the circumstance that brought the girl here, but sometimes those who entered the rift were hurt or not well. He remembered the starving state of Blackbird when she first came. Upon finding no visible injuries he came to stop.

He was not nearly as close as Vynter, preferring to give the mare her personal space. Spreading a great wing out, the orange and subtle blue hues flickering like flame wit the movement, he popped the boy on the head as if to scold him. Though it was not nearly hard enough to hurt. Before pulling it back, brushing the soft feathers across Vynter's head the pressure harder as he signaled for him to pull back. The motion should be enough to pull Vynter back, thanks to the ice his hooves so helpfully created.

talk talk talk talk
I believe this world ain't half as bad as it looks.
I believe most poeple are good.
You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D
For far too long she stood there with all sensibility and mindfulness quashed by a debilitating fog of confusion and concern - how could she ever return to Sunnmøre? Dumbfounded gaze wandered heavenward, scouting the prismatic blur and blinking eyes blindly; they seemed also to coat every single surface within view. In vain, she  turned thought to the ridiculousness of the situation, even seeking some form of logic from the vine like ladder now visible to the rear - restless mist streamed through it’s crude rungs, over and all around its inconceivable length.

Locked in the stupor, she might easily have appeared simple prey to the wonderful monsters that lurked down in the under-realm into which she’d inadvertently been slotted (surely there were many), but it seemed, ironically, that luck had rushed to her side. The mist, curious - almost attracted to her presence - though it seemed, came not too close, to begin with. She was left for the most part to filter through an overwhelming deluge of ‘what ifs’ and ‘what nows’ until the shadows to the front of her evolved into a living thing less abstract than the rest.

Behind it, the more plausible stranger, materialising from the ever-turning soup of changing darkness and colour, was a jungle of trees strung with vine; and beyond that, the rise and fall of perhaps a distant horizon - a future, potential.

Valkyrie blinked slowly, as though the action might cleanse the chaos in her mind.

“It’s... too hot…” she mumbled almost incoherently.

The sultry, stagnant air was intense and the wintry, almost-white coat wrapped snug around her bones did little to prevent mounting discomfort. Every breath caught in her throat, thick and unfamiliar, and she fought to swallow them, one and then another; desperate to quench the crippling thirst of her lungs. The longer she choked in this way, the faster and heavier became the weight of dizziness, wooziness, and the nonsense surrounding began to spin. Perhaps it was same vertigo which dumbed down her instinct to the touch of the other; he continued forward like a dream towards her, growing into a figure beyond the standard size of her Sisters.

But his height was barely the beginning.

The colour canvasing him was wrong, an almost marbled blend of old mud and snow, sticks and stones, and her subconscious writhed and wretched in response. Long legs grew like spindly sapling tree-trunks beneath a barrel that rolled with the awkward, almost skating action of his stride; lumps seemed to grow at each side - they could have been feathered (she was unsure, the picture was distorted), vanishing somewhere behind the dominant forequarters as she watched, head on.

Drawing from a solid belt of teachings as well as the depictions written blatantly upon cave walls, Valkyrie felt that such an anomaly could really only be one thing, a man. As though to validate her suspicion, he paused clumsily at her location without any regard for personal boundaries. Yet… she seemed in that moment of confirmation, frustratingly incapable of issuing a reprimand. His breath, hot against her ears and repulsively stale compared to the intoxicating fragrance of her Sisters, moved her stomach to twist unpleasantly; so too the bold touch of his contaminate warmth against the stiff bristle of her clean feathers, caused her skin to crawl.

She stood frozen in place, temporarily incapacitated by the shameless breach of common morals.  

Understanding began to form in her bewildered mind - this was no doubt a technique to control and conquer; stun and shackle.

…and he was still yet to speak!


The sound, as it filled the muggy air from somewhere beyond - though utterly alien - soothed the note of alarm ringing through her heart. From Valkyrie’s naive perspective, it was a quite charming blend of Sigrún’s deep and lustful, midnight hum, also rolling, booming thunder and the harried course of whining wind against the cliffs; it seemed as earnest as it was urgent. The second more mammoth beast appeared through the same tree line, thankfully pausing a safer distance behind the first, and his rumbling voice was enough to reel back in, her wayward common sense.

The horse with the unsightly coat had already drawn back a little - his eyes, perfectly blue, were gazing curiously into hers. Only very briefly did she acknowledge this, for her attention rapidly diverted back to the next, with a good amount of disbelief fixing through all, including posture.

The second was easily larger than the male, in width, length, height... In fact, his presence there in the sweltering space was rather commanding - he quite dwarfed Valkyrie. If his counterpart challenged her grip on reality at all, this creature, was a thing forged by lost memories and dreams in the darkest, deepest recesses of her imagination. He looked unreal, with what could only be described as wings (they were ill-placed, upon his body rather than head). A decent number of giant thorns - she dared not count them, turning dazed eyes every so often should he find her examination rude - protruded both down the centre of his skull, and from what she could see, behind; and an absurd quantity of hair framed the unexpected softness of his expression, growing almost as much underneath (she felt), as was cascading down from above.

Though her eyes delighted in the feast his picture provided them, the clashing bits of him were simply too much for the reasoning brain within them to fathom. As his amazingly enormous wing extended, the Daughter’s tongue rolled hesitantly, forcing back a hard gulp and small, tan-tinted hooves shuffled warily backwards a length - the man alone, she was more confident facing.

Smoke billowed about his moving, breathing, speaking figure.

Was this mist - her plunge into this underworld - his doing?

Confronted by the conflicting information soaking in (his appearance versus his tone and the message it offered), Valkyrie found that she could not withhold the warning flick of her ears; equally suggestive was the uncomfortable strain through her face. Her posture had already become rigid; ready.

“It’s no problem,” she responded carefully, sparing a glance by the other who was no longer breathing down her neck; perhaps had the smaller of the two been more alone, she might have rearranged his understanding of good manners by now… “No, I’m not hurt.

Thank you Roscorro.”

Though young and naive, she certainly wasn’t stupid, and the perceptive Shieldmaiden was quick to realise that there was danger in her ignorance and inexperience - especially here, in such a place so far from all that was familiar (and sensible). “I’m Valkyrie,” she revealed to them and made a simultaneous effort to relax the tension beneath her warm, pallid hide (still, she was prepared should either attitude switch); likewise, she let a small smile inch to life.

ooc: (please let me know if I got anything wrong! you both have amazingly unique characters. Oh, and I never expect matching length, I'm just a rambler <3)

It isn't long before the young man's usual companion is beside him. Not only to scold his brash movements, but to also delicately bring him closer to his furry side. It is in this moment that the boy relented, letting his hooves slip himself snugly next to the brute. His maw turned to touch his shoulder in greeting, having become accustomed to the man's constant company. Though the words were meant to deter the curious yearling from pestering any her further; he couldn't help but be drawn to her and her beauty. With a soft snort he took a half step forward, offering his nose out as a sign of peace.

It was only when did he sense the change in her demeanor did he collect himself, studying her intensely before looking to Rosco gently,"Pretty." His maw pointed to the wings behind her ears, small and delicate as they fluttered almost nervously. The suited her small physique perfectly. He wasn't used to seeing horses smaller than him. He knew he was taller than average, but to come across someone so petite was utterly fascinating. Despite this he restrained from invading her personal space once again.

He didn't want to make her nervous, to make her run away like a fragile bird that felt cornered. He wanted to learn more about her, why she acted how she did to him, and just how in the world did she end up with wings upon her skull. He snorted, studying her wings again with a silent curiosity only he could possess. Even though he chose to be silent around others, there certainly wasn't anything intimidating about him. He was awkward and gangling, not entirely receptive of others reactions (despite being rather intuitive), and mostly likely would never be able to keep up a conversation in his lifetime.

The only person that could truly understand him was Sister. Yet since they arrived in this place she had become a ghost in his life, and he didn't know if it was because he had learned to avoid her nagging or if she had a different agenda. There were some nights that he actually missed her. Looking at the stars he would wonder if she was watching them too, or if she was off trying to get her magic back that she likely missed dearly. Fire was as normal to Fenyx as breathing, and so when the Rift stripped it away from her he could feel the way it had changed her. Yet he still couldn't stop himself from wandering off in an effort to support her through this dark time.

Because he had been so lost in his thoughts, Vynter was no longer concentrating on keeping his balance. Before he could stop himself his scrawny bulk was sliding himself forward, careening in the direction of the filly and causing himself to nearly crash into her petite form. It was at the last second did he stop, attempting to balance himself by flapping his crippled wing to gain some sort of backwards momentum. Despite it doing nothing, he managed to right himself just as his chest was inches from her face. With hooves planted firmly on the ground, he stared at her with a slight raise of his brows and his chin pressed against his neck.

He continued to remain in this pose for a while, trying to register just what had occurred before finally tilting his head and speaking in his simple tone,"Pretty Valkyrie."

my will is a sword that cuts down anything in my way

She was completely overwhelmed. She had been thrust into their world and then badgered by two strangers. One of whom looked like something that would want to eat her rather than be her friend. He could see the sheen that began to form of her body as the heat beat down on them relentlessly. Unlike her, he was used to the heat. Welcomed it even. His body thrived within the hot temperatures, even with his massive cloak on. A gift from his dragon blood. Though it turned on him in the cold season as it nearly went into shock, unable to handle the negative temperatures.

Her gear suggested that she was been in an area where warmth was needed to survive. Surely she was dyeing of heat in it now? She continued to steal glances at him, concerned that her gawking would upset him no doubt. He smiled at her concern. Though his actions had startled her into stepping back, she did not run. Likely still too stunned to make enough sense of her world to flee. Or her core nature had taken hold as her mind whirled within, unable to collect itself. Either way she made it obvious that she did not trust them. But she was unhurt, that was what the stallion cared about. Though the heat could soon change that if they did not find some water or shade.

He gave a nod of his head. "I am glad. The passage over to the this world can be rough on some." He replied. Upon learning her name he offered a bow of his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Valkyrie." He looked down to Vynter as he blurted out a single word, describing the mare as pretty. The giant chuckled warmly as he met the lad's gaze. "That she is." He looked back to Valkyrie. "I suppose you are looking for an explanation as to what is going on. Most people who are swallowed into this world tend to want answers-" Before he could go on his younger companion suddenly burst forward as he lost his own footing. The brown, massive head of the stallion shot forward as he attempted to grab Vynter by the tail to stop him from stumbling into the shaken mare, missing it by a whisker. Alarm rang through his body and he was certain the two would go down. But they did not as Vynter managed to bring himself to a halt just a heartbeat before colliding. To which he followed up by complimenting Valkyrie again. This time throwing in her name.

The older wanderer let out a heavy breath as his shoulders sagged. Honestly. He looked to Valkryie apologetically as he struggled not to laugh at the comical sight before him. The poor thing was going through a hard enough time, the last thing she needed was to be laughed at.
talk talk talk talk
I believe this world ain't half as bad as it looks.
I believe most poeple are good.
You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D
It appeared that the woolly giant possessed a kind of decency that Valkyrie could relate to; he pulled the younger, cumbersomely mannered man back into order and she realised as he slid away with uncanny smoothness, that beloved ice was forming (even briefly), beneath his careless tread.

How she might have liked to lean into the cool freeze at that very time, or bathe in freshly fallen powder snow - instead, there was not even a wafting breeze to chill the sweat winding channels down her mane-cloaked neck. Pale lashes widened around the surprised glint in her examining eyes, but they soon turned away in favour of the mellow rumble of the greater’s eloquent, respectful words. The smile softened, lifting further through her mask. Interestingly, she’d not considered that he too could be male, and that probably contributed to the retiring level of unease for his sake; without a doubt, he didn’t present like the enemy.

…he wasn't brainless, like Vynter.

Through each pause in conversation, the Daughter studied the muddy, untidy man; scrutinised him. He stood now, close to Roscorro and murmured only a single word - a petty contribution indeed. She wasn’t surprised. In fact, his dumbness there in the queerly lit glade, only reiterated all that she assumed; everything she’d learned in the Sisterhood. An arrogant confidence began to form inside her, feeding off the presumption of his absent intelligence, and Valkyrie started subtly to assume a long rehearsed (but seldom applied), air of superiority - the kind that seemed to emanate from the giant just naturally. Women were indeed glorious, and men were an unnecessary blight in the world; perhaps he would serve the purpose of her (unexpected), arrival, conveniently.

If she could separate them somehow…

Ears drifted hitherward for a moment, as she shunned thought of him for now, to the wayside.

Roscorro, in the same moment, was assuming her thoughts with good intention - he’d been speaking the whole time. Still hiding beneath the same smile, Valkyrie nodded gently, deliberately issuing words to encourage him further, “yes, pray tell. Here I was wondering if I were dead now.” In truth she knew she wasn’t - as she’d fallen to earth, the withered, sharp end of a broken vine had stuck like a blunt knife into her thigh. Surely there was no such pain in death.

Even as the Daughter spoke, a modest chuckle icing the tone, the man on the outer was beginning to slide forward. Similarly drawn, like Roscorro’s moody blue (she thought) eyes, she watched on, tracing Vynter’s helpless, hapless, path towards her. They narrowed the nearer he came, - chin lifting, shoulders bracing - until those  clumsy heels beneath him finally drove home and forced him to a standstill; during the event it became apparent that the lumps upon each shoulder were in truth wings, pointless and maybe deformed mind you, for they did naught but wriggle and writhe about against his bland flesh.

He was more than ridiculous; he needed to be terminated.

Bemusedly she placed a cold stare upon him, and a grimace devoured the sweeter air which had previously engulfed her face. “You would do well to…” she hissed through gritted teeth discreetly, for his ears alone, but the venom in her voice fell away almost as suddenly as it had come about; he had barely moved an inch since coming to rest there in front, and his striking eyes swam admiringly between her own. “Pardon?” she replied to his statement quickly - and quite without indigence. “What did you say?”

It wasn't customary in the Sisterhood to standout (it was impossible actually, they were all ‘made’ the same), or to possess any form of individuality above the rest (the High-Maiden was, of course, the exception), so it took Valkyrie quite by surprise that Vynter had complimented her appearance at all. She was so taken aback by the concept, stunned - even flattered - beyond comprehension, that her hocks gave way, forcing a backward stagger in the end. One hind-hoof slid against the smooth surface of an object, and Valkyrie turned briefly to discover her spear laying there. Quietly, her mind called for it - then a second time, and more desperately, a third - but the weapon remained on its bed of murky grass.

Confused, and only momentarily distracted, she turned further to retrieve it with her teeth.

@Vynter @Roscorro

It pulls in like a hungry tide of wolves, black shadows rippling as if they were the backs of beasts; silent, though. No snarls, no growls, no baying and howling. Only a hush, like a distant whisper carried in by the breeze, touches your ears.

Smooth, like stone hands worn down by eons in the sea, cold and sort of wet like the same—the shadows brush up against your skin. Through your skin. Into your body, your bloodstream, your marrow, your mind. With a sigh it severs your hold on your magic, devouring it, before bleeding away like a bad dream upon waking.
the Rift
a dream deferred


The Rift devours your magic.

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» Presence of the Rift «

Even when her tone was displeased and her eyes were narrowed in his direction, the boy couldn't help but be utterly infatuated with her looks. Her pale lips were so delicate as they moved, her lilt soft and enticing. Her dialect was one he wasn't used to, but it only brought more questions to his constantly running mind. He paid no mind to her harsh words, to the way she seemed displeased with his actions; because he was focused on studying every inch of her. How did the Gods end up making something so small and delicate. She was like a flower in a summer breeze, full of life yet could so easily be swept away by a sudden up draft. He longed to find out more about how she worked.

It was only when her expression of irritation turned to disbelief did his own change, morphing into a softness that was rarely seen. It was almost as if she wasn't complimented often. How he couldn't possibly fathom, but he longed to compliment her more because of it. So with the same gusto he had before he bobbed his head with certainty, before looking into her beautiful eyes and reaffirming his statement,"Pretty Valkyrie." His nose pointed to her wings once again, resisting the urge to delicately brush his maw against them again as he softly spoke near her ear,"Wings." It was at this time that he finally took note of the injury in her hip, the wretched vine marring her pristine coat in a garish way. As soon as his mind registered what might have happened his demeanor changed, and soon he was taking one step back from the filly.

"Valkyrie's hurt," he spoke in a more serious tone, the awkward and higher pitched lilt that often laced it nowhere to be found. He spared his companion only a briefly glance, before moving away from here and towards the brush to search for some herbs. As he moved he made a soft clicking sound, and soon from beneath his thick mane movement could be seen. What emerged from the depths was Leroy the mechanical spider, who flicked his feelers to Vynter curiously before moving towards the top of his head.

As if they were in sync the spider was moving, making its way down the boy's shoulder and to the ground gracefully. It moved itself with a surprising amount of grace despite its mechanical build. It approached Valkyrie silently, beady eyes focused as it slowly made its way towards the injured hip. Finding a branch to climb it stopped just above the wounded hip, silently working its front legs while waiting for its master's next move. It didn't have to wait long before Vynter was back by the Sheildmaiden's side. He made haste with his movements, coming close to her flank and moving his head to reach for the vine protruding from her round hip.

It was with subtle ease that he removed the vine; quickly so as to not have her thinking too much of it. As the blood began to pool he brought forth water-soaked moss, pressing it tenderly against her skin to clean away the blood and dirt. He made sure his next movements were quick when he pulled away the moss, grabbing a few leaves of one herb and chewing them up thoughtfully. Horsetail to prevent infection, Marigold to stop the bleeding, and Goldenrod to help with healing. After each herb was chewed into enough of a pulp he slathered them over her wound.

Once he was certain the herbal mixture would suffice he turned to his spider companion, whom had been spinning cobweb for him while he worked. Grabbing it with the utmost care he turned once again to the damsel, tenderly pressing it against the poultice until it had it securely pressed against the wound. He took a step back to admire his handy work, looking at it with the utmost detail before nodding his head in satisfaction. It would work for now, but he likely would need to keep an eye on it within the next few days to ensure it was healing properly. Soon his gaze was meeting hers again, silently watching her with the standard calm demeanor that radiated from his being.

my will is a sword that cuts down anything in my way

It was rather cute how Vynter's simple words had flustered Valkyrie so. Roscorro remained where he stood, watching the two youngling in amusement. Though he had not heard what Valkyrie had said earlier he was no fool. Body language spoke volumes. Seconds ago she had been venomous towards the lad, now she was confused once more. Thrown completely off by two words. Her youth and inexperience shown brightly. It was somewhat endearing.

He was a silent observer as Vynter, taking notice of an injury, set to work. Curious the stallion watched his young friend, his head cocking to one side as a mechanical spider emerged from his mane. Hadn't he seen something like that before? Storm colored eyes remained glued to Vynter as he returned to Valkyrie after a short time of searching. With a tenderness he had not seen from the yearling, Vynter set to work tending to Valkyrie's wound. A sense of pride settled over the giant as he watched the normally distant lad care for another.

Though he could have healed the wound with his magic, Roscorro made no mention of it. Let the yearling have his pride in caring for another. It was good for him to step outside of himself more, to come out of that shell. As the Clydesdale observed he felt a familiar present sweep by him. Ears shooting forward his eyes locked onto Valkyrie, readying to leap in if she blamed Vynter for the sensation that was no doubt sweeping through her. As if sensing the change within the mare, Rosco's piece of hope leaped forward. With a flash of white light it split in two, the second piece offering itself to Valkyrie in an attempt to ease some of the ill effects of the Rift. Hopefully it would be enough to sooth her temper, if it flared towards Vynter. He himself had been blamed once for the Rift's actions, he did not want to see his little buddy being wrongly accused as well.

talk talk talk talk
I believe this world ain't half as bad as it looks.
I believe most poeple are good.

You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D