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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
Hanging on by a thread
Private Rainforest Cliffs 
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#1
Eira...
Eira had lost track of time since that split-second of lapse concentration when she had been severed from the love and protection of her dauntless womb-mate. Many from the ruined Helovia (and beyond), had fallen through the Portal over the blur of months to follow and some had already fled back through it – perhaps, never to be heard from again; yet she had delved deeper and deeper into the otherworldly wilderness, blind and helpless, ever searching for the missing half of her soul. The salty river of her heartbreak had now dried beneath tired, forlorn eyes and the overbearing fear of the Rift (of the monsters, Kisamoa), had paled through the unrelenting course of time. The stunted, tiny creature had resigned to this sentence of pain, isolation and hunger, and all but given up hope.

There was no safe time to travel through the wilds. Hours and hours of daylight created a suffocating burden of blistering heat and humidity, and though the night brought fair respite in contrast, creatures purged from the boiling belly of hell stalked the Rift when all was dark. A hapless foal would serve as easy prey. She had become well accustomed to these dangers, however, and worked intelligently to avoid a good many confrontations; forests threw helpful shade, sheltering her from the sun, and beneath the undergrowth down along their floor, she could become conveniently invisible and rest her malnourished bones. It seemed that she defied all odds; Eira was a survivor.

No matter the distance she roamed, the child always found herself pulled back to the forest above the sea.

It was evening as she picked a pitifully slow path between the lush fernery and mossy boulders of the rainforest. The infection which had spawned first in her mind, and across her belly in a burning flash, had become a vast rash (it enveloped her puny form almost entirely now), which crippled her almost entirely. Long silvery flight feathers were tattered and broken - bothered by the fixation of her anxious lips as she nuzzled and licked persistently at the raw, pussy flesh that lay just beneath. The filly, though in constant, visible pain, appeared to be looking for something, hunting, fossicking around the bulging buttress roots of the ancient trees towering above.
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden


Thread notes:
Trial one
A scalding rash flashes into existence on your belly. At first, the bumpy flesh seems to only be about the size of a quarter but the infection is hungry for more flesh and promise to spread. Every day it will grow a little bit bigger.

Trial two
A thunderous boom fills the air. Your hairs stand on ends as electric currents crackle and pop around you. Suddenly lightning strikes a few yards from you, the current finds its way to your nearest leg. It does not hurt very much, but your leg will feel numb for a few minutes. The lightning will continue to follow and strike you intermittently. With each passing day, the pain will increase as will the length of numbness.
Vynter the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#2
It was becoming easier and easier to be alone. It was as if his lack of hearing had brought him into this sort of shell, and the longer he remained deaf the deeper he seemed to go. His favorite spot to hide was in the Rainforest Cliffs, especially in the dead of night. Although no place was truly peaceful in these lands at the moment (aside from the places restored of hope; and even then they weren't great), the trees and calls of creatures hidden in them were a nice tune to listen to.

Leroy was silently keeping watch on his companion's skull, keeping an eye out for anyone who might decide to approach from behind should he need to alert the colt. Vynter didn't seemed all that concerned about such things right now, because it had been so long since he'd really had a moment to himself. With the events of helping the Matron restore hope in the lands, attempting to complete his trial and meeting so many horses along the way; the poor Pegasus never got any room to simply breathe. So he decided to take it for himself, moving in a lackadaisical fashion on the ice beneath this hooves. He had time, and he would take as much of it as he could to himself until something, or someone else, decided to bother him.

Perhaps he had jinxed himself, but it was as if as soon as that thought crossed his mind did he smell another on the wind. Leroy was alert, searching with his own senses for whom the boy might be sensing. What the yearling didn't understand was the additional stench of infection and sickness. Most likely wouldn't take note of such a smell, but having a healer father teaches you to look, or smell, for such things. So because of his inner need to heal, he was moving in the direction in which he smelled the rot. It didn't take long to find her, sprawled out on the forest floor and nibbling away at broken feathers. Puss oozed from her appendages, and her skin was loose and sagging on the bones that were oh so tiny.

Although she wasn't as tiny as Valkyrie, she was quite close, and the lack of nutrition made her seem even smaller. Neither of them could really compare to his 16hh and growing stature though. Taking a moment to inspect the scene from afar he checked for any other additional injuries, for bleeding or broken bones. The only other thing he could find was an intense rash (or was it a burn?) that plagued her baby blue frame. This was enough of a factor for him to take action, moving himself towards her at a calm yet brisk pace. As he skated along his mind begged him to retreat, to tread carefully around this pretty girl; because the last time he tried to help one she shunned him like yesterday's trash.

Even though he direly wanted to listen to it, to back away and seep back into the shadows, deep down he knew that he simply couldn't leave her like that. Not when he knew that he could help. And so he was finally next to her, staring into her eyes with his own bright blue ones. He said nothing, only checked to see if she was indeed still functioning. By now her adrenaline was probably in overdrive, doing everything it could to compensate for her failing body. So when he felt that she was not afraid of his presence, he began to stand upright once more. Clicking softly to Leroy he waited for the spider to fall from his head to the ground, before turning away to begin his search for supplies.

Her wings would need to be wrapped, there was no way a poultice would be the only solution at this stage. She would also need food, something to keep her strength up and to help her rest so that her body could heal. It was obvious she had been pushing herself despite every part of her encouraging her not to. He supposed given the situation he could relate.

Upon finding most of what he needed he returned, gently placing his tools at his hooves and looking at her once again. He didn't think he would need her to stand up, in fact he preferred that she continue to rest her muscles. So with a little bit of awkwardness (that damn wing never helped with his balance), he rested himself on folded legs, making sure he was close enough so that his mouth could still apply dressings to her wound. The first thing he did though, was push a ball of moist moss in her direction. She needed fluids, and this was a convenient way to bring them to a bedridden patient. He looked at her for a few moments expectantly, before beginning to work on her wings.

He made sure that she was aware of what he was doing, patiently waiting for acknowledgement before he began his work. It likely would hurt, simply because her feathers were all but shreds upon her tiny wings. He worked his way around them, plucking the broken ones as painlessly as he could and applying a salve to the infected areas. This took a long time, not only because of how big the wounds were, but how serious. She would need multiple dressings through the night, meaning he would not be getting any sleep.

Once he was satisfied with the salve placement, he grabbed a large banana leaf he had found and used it to fasten her wings to her back. Until there was progress on those wounds, she was not allowed to use them. What he did find interesting though, was that she had a second set that seemed to be unharmed. They fluttered delicately, almost as if they were a being of their own, and he tried his best to not touch them. Of course tried is a very loose term to him. As his maw found the edges of the feathers he closed his eyes, letting their softness overtake his senses. They were nice... delicate and pretty. Just like Valkyrie's.

Then his eyes shot open, and at once he pulled away swiftly, looking to her uncertainly. He had acted impulsively once again, his curiosity overcoming his manners and now he likely had upset this poor girl. She likely would lash out too, to look at him in disgust as Valkyrie did and shoo him away because she would no longer want his help. He pulled his neck back, chin pressing to his chest quietly, and despite the fear bubbling in his mind he still couldn't stop himself from blurting out quietly,"Pretty..."

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


@Eira
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#3
Eira...
At last she could tolerate the the sting of her illness, no longer. Trembling terribly, Eira’s lanky, charcoal-washed limbs gave way and she plunged belly first into the moist, fragrant carpet of soil and rotting litter; her velveteen nose swerved around at once and began at once to bury through feather, irritating the festering swamp of tissue below. As she laboured, hot tears pooling in the wells of her sunken blue eyes, the rustle of looming company initially failed to rouse her attention.

When his shadow slid over and she glanced up feebly, there was of course, to her astonishment, a pair of gleaming blue eyes gazing back in return. Startled, she huddled backwards, flattening her lean, angular frame upon the ground in frightened submission; though she did note the gentle quality in them (not at all like the ravenous intent in the hunters’ often evaded), the filly was timid and not at all sure of his motive. His gaze slipped away to scan, it seemed, the rest of her and through the moment, little Eira lay stock-still.

A fledgeling bird, camouflaged in stillness.

In time he left and the flinching mesh of visible muscles embracing her lessened their stiffness a little. Silent, for she had learned through a long absence of company to say nothing, the child watched the softly-painted movement of his long, strapping legs and glossy cape of dark feathers above, vanish into the fernery nearby. Eira let out the breath she’d been holding in a heavy sigh, but the next breath snagged again suddenly in her throat when she noticed the clicking spider left behind, in his wake. With a nervous, puzzled expression she beheld it, all the while avoiding the desire to return to her wounds, in case she missed its next movement.

No sooner had he walked off than the stranger with the blue eyes returned to find her.

there wasn’t the same fear through her, this time around and finely furred ears bristled to catch the chink of his hooves against the ice, induced by each step; this, she viewed with opened, incredulous eyes. Of course, Eira was no stranger to magic - both her blood and Indra’s had been gifted with power - so as the tall colt (his mane and tail were yet grown), knelt down beside her, the young girl’s focus returned to his face. Though neither actually spoke, there seemed to stand a strange understanding between them; she settled down against the bed of earth with the moss resting by grey lips, and he began to fuss about her wings.

With child-like obedience (he had the upper hand should her rebuke), Eira lifted the thin length of her arm into the air.

Often she winced. Once or twice she mewed, but the stranger worked with meticulous care and clemency that put her mind at ease. The filly dared not suggest a backwards glance to discover what was happening. Instead, she laid down her chin against the dirt and closed her eyes, slipping slowly beneath the agony, into a world far kinder and happier; with her Ma and Pa, and Indra, together again on the beach that they’d called home.

She did not wake again until nearly two days later. Eira never heard him speak.

There was a strange stiffness in her body as she stretched one gangly forelimb forward, and then the other. With her eyes barely even open, she turned her pale blue face to feed the well-established habit and gnaw the feathers glued to her wounds; to her surprise, blunt teeth fell upon a strange, smooth surface and withdrew in an instant, as her meek gaze approached instead. There were leaves bound snug around her wings (and they were fastened high upon her back). Strange, stained dressings were covering the gaping gore which had been, and as she considered it all in a state of growing confusion, the filly realised that much of the pain before present, was blunted.

Narrow ears wavered forward, inspecting the little clearing inside which she was lying, but there seemed to be no other nearby - even despite the beaten soil and unfamiliar scent laid thick about it. For a few moments longer, she searched with curious, guileless eyes, before turning her attention back to the queer blankets upon her. Tender lips surveyed the alien material, ghosting above it while breath pumped quizzically to gauge its reason; interestingly, where before the flesh there might have writhed, tears building in her eyes, she felt nothing whatsoever. Delicately she touched it, and though the sensation radiated through her, it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as she remembered.

Softly the filly snorted and attempted to prop herself up.
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
Vynter the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#4
It was only when he saw her eyes closed did to occur to him that she had fallen asleep. A soft breath of air had left his lips, a form of relief perhaps, but that didn't mean his task was over yet. Once he had maintained her wounds he began to focus on the rash that riddled her body. Yet as he went to tend to it seemed there was something like a force around it, preventing him from tending it. The longer he remained close, the more intense the feeling was; and he soon realized that perhaps this was the work of the Rift. As it had taken away his hearing, it had taken over her body with this rash. This was going to be a longer night than he had thought.

The next two days had been filled with much to do for him. Although he was often tired and hungry, he refused to rest until everything that needed to be done to help the damsel had been finished. Only then would he retreat to a makeshift nest he had made in the brush; not too far from her, and fall asleep. There would be times where he would wake up concerned that she might have stopped breathing, simply because she was sleeping for so long. Yet he knew there had been cases like this, where your body went for so long that as soon as it recognized it was being healed, it would shut down for long periods of time. He supposed he should feel flattered, but in reality he was more worried about making sure that everything was healing properly.

Each time he would tend to her wounds he would study her, not in any malicious way, but with simple curiosity. Perhaps it was because this was the only time he could really fully study someone without them arguing, but he found that he would take his time changing her dressing just so he could study her features. Although her legs were an inky black, the rest of her tiny frame was a soft light blue. Specks of white were scattered along her body, beautiful flecks of ivory that looked like birds taking flight in a blue sky. Her wings, he assumed once they were healed, were quite pretty; mostly the same color of her coat but tipped with a bright silver. This same silver was the color of her mane, and he was fascinated that she could sport such simple yet elegant coloring.

He would often find his lips touching the second pair of wings delicately, wondering if they were still real, and although they belonged to this sweet girl he couldn't help but only think of Valkyrie as he did. He wanted to be unhappy with her, to forget about the painted Shieldmaiden with all of his might. Yet when he dreamed at night it was of her and him beneath the stars, her eyes of blue batting at him dearly as they had for Rosco. And in these dreams he would have two wings, strong and long that could easily wrap around her delicately frame and hold her close should he choose. When he would wake up each day he would question why he would have these dreams, why he would feel the way he did each time he rose for the day. He had yet to find answers, and honestly he didn't really have time to.

It was on the third day that the girl would finally wake. He had been away to grab his usual supply of dressing, only to find the dainty skull had lifted from its resting spot and big doe eyes were looking around uncertainly. Her head began to turn and reach for her wings, and instinctively the boy called out to her,"Leave it be." As he made his way closer he placed down his belongings and looked at her. He studied her eyes to make sure that she was indeed alert and not suffering from any cranial injuries before beginning to look at her wings once more. As he pulled away the banana leaves he found a set of patchy wings, unkempt and not exactly in the best shape. Yet where the puss and blood had oozed previously was now scabs, and to Vynter's medically trained mind this was a good sign. It was at this time he decided she likely wouldn't need to be bandaged if she left them to heal.

Pulling the leaves off of her wings he began to make the usual salve, having gotten it down to a simple science. He mixed the herbs together before gently applying them to the scabs in a thick layer. Fortunately the smell wasn't too bad, in fact there was a freshness to it that the boy quite liked. Once he was finished he slowly pulled the way, instinctively running his maw along the tips of her silver feathers when she had been asleep. It had been comforting, and he had found them to be incredibly soft. He was beginning to realize just how lonely he was becoming without his sister Fenyx around. After a moment of studying them for longer, he finally met her gaze again and spoke quietly,"Don't touch."

He began to put things away, pushing a piece of soaked moss to her once more before standing upright. He grabbed the old scraps, tossing them to the side so that they could decompose back into the earth. After he did so he took this time to stretch, his wing lifting and straining to stretch out as his muscles rippled beneath this coat. Shaking his head and letting his mane swish to and fro, the young man began to turn away in search of something for her to eat.


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


@Eira
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#5
Eira...
The rainforest there above the frothing, roaring ocean was familiar to her, more so perhaps than any other area rambling through the Rift, and she took comfort in the dank blanket and the gentle whisper of the breathing wilderness surrounding. Perched half-upright across weak, wobbling knees, the young filly found herself alone once again. Though the leaves mingled and chatted together in their, hushed, well-natured tone, and the the low hum of insects attracted by her wounds filled the void of silence, Eira couldn’t help but ache for the return of the stranger who had all but vanished without a word. Bleary eyes hunted through the wall of trunks and wispy green, willing the murky shadows to spit him from their midst.

To her delight the colt appeared and as her wasted limbs gave way, his warm breath swept forth to spill across her healing form. She let her chin slip back to the cool and fragrant soil, yet her bright blue gaze never once relinquished their fast fix upon him - not this time.

The colt-foal lay warm against her as the biting sea breeze swept in flurried bursts across the moonlit beach. She could feel the steadiness of each slumbering breath he took, the rhythmic thudding of the bold heart within his chest; it beat in unison with her own, each downy body rising and falling to the silent melody of their binding love. Her eyes travelled to the glittering arc of illuminated blue-black far above before tiny velvet, slit-nostrils slipped beneath the refuge of his deliciously familiar flavour. The gentle, yet insistent lips of her mother caressed her soft silvered mane and smoothed backwards the fluffy ears propped up curiously to either side, breathing as she did so, a slow and sleepy lullaby. Resting a cheek against the cushion of her brother’s quilled wing, the babe nestled deeper against his flesh and at last closed her eyes.

Eira loved Indra, all  the way to those beautiful stars, and back.


Quietly, trustingly, she studied his benevolent expression, and at the same time, with a contemplative tilt of her head, the scrawny filly regarded the firm instruction given to not touch her weeping body. The little pale veil of hair draped between her neat, pointed ears, slipped smoothly down across the pale star on her forehead. Without another word, the stranger turned from her though, and began to sift through a collection of curious bits and pieces (leaves with lotions in their deeply cupped centres, and a variety of grasses and herbs), discarding them under a heavy cloud of silence into the litter already rotting around them. Eira absorbed it all with an inquisitive, intuitive eye.

Hours passed mother and daughter where they lay leant against each other, surveying the slow crawl of the clouds across the horizon, noting the way the wind coiled through their midst, shaping them with playful gusts and bustling them ever along on their way. The young girl wondered in quiet fascination, what sort of marvellous view their pasty, cotton-white bodies saw of the sand and surf world below - whether they were gazing back at that same moment, considering the frail blue girl who’s mind was ever lost in thought. She was captivated by flight, intrigued by all that transpired where the sun and the moon swayed around and around, just beyond one another’s reach; where her mother would tumble and swerve so free.

But she was frightened of it too, for the sky’s mood could turn suddenly, she had seen power-white blacken ominously and blinding forks burst down upon the earth; she had smelled the wood it scorched and heard the fury of its roar. She feared for her mother, blending into the grim grey of each storm, yet Cirrus seemed drawn, compelled by the energy therein. Indra wasn’t scared; ‘one day I’ll touch the clouds like Ma,’ he proclaimed.


She scrabbled to her feet with better strength than she was used to as he turned after a time spent stretching and a sliver of sudden panic streaked through her young complexion; Eira didn’t want him to leave, she felt safe with him there - like she always had with Indra. Stumbling forward across the floor like a foal on new legs, she drove her quivering nose beneath the feather cascade by his hip and nestled as near to his warm flank as he might allow. A violent crack of lightning burst down through the branches and fried the soggy ball of moss left behind; the filly’s eyes widened fearfully and she pressed even nearer. The Rift had indeed cursed her, and she was rather powerless to stop it.  
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
Vynter the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#6
He hadn't really paid attention to her reactions or what she was doing as he worked. Simply because he had become accustomed to her being asleep. Now that she was awake again Vynter didn't know what to do, mainly concerned that she would act as Valkyrie had when he had helped her. All of the tireless hours changing her dressing, staying up in the dead of night to aide in a fever spike, every minute of his attention being placed upon her well being would have felt wasted had she sent him away as the previous filly had. Yet he hadn't heard anything like it yet, in fact the girl was rather quiet like himself (he may be deaf, but he could tell when others were talking to him.)

Whether it was from exhaustion or having nothing to say the colt wasn't sure, but he enjoyed the silence while it lasted. It wasn't that he minded others talking to him and striking up a conversation, it was just usually when he did speak either they were disinterested in what she had to say, or that they were unable to understand what he meant. To say Vynter had good communication skills was like saying the sky wasn't blue. He had just finished his stretch and had begun to walk forward when he felt a sudden touch of velvet upon his hip. He instinctively started, his lack of hearing making it impossible for him to expect someone's approach. What he wasn't expecting was for the blue baby to press into his flank, her nose finding comfort in the feathers of his wings and her coat brushing with his.

As he turned his skull to look at her in muted disbelief, his eyes fell upon the lightning strike just as it decimated the ball of moss he had offered to her. Blinking for a moment or two he remained focused on the spot she had once been, before looking back at her thoughtfully. She had moved so quickly given her state, and it was as if as soon as she had made contact with him the lightning had struck. Could this mean... that she was psychic? How else could she have known that she needed to move to him at that moment? Was that even possible in this land? He wasn't entirely sure.

Another thing that he was quite fascinated by was that she seemed entirely unphased by the state of his wings. If anything, she looked to be rather comfortable and secure beneath the soft downy. Was this another part of her psychic ability? That she knew that despite his hideous appearance that he really meant no harm? When would she acknowledge that he couldn't hear. Suddenly a spark of mild excitement crossed his mind, because another thought occurred to him. If she was psychic, did that mean she would be able to communicate with him via her mind? If this were the case, it would make speaking a lot easier, but it also meant that she would have access to his thoughts.

Suddenly the paint was conflicted, because as much as he would love to experience telepathic communication, he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for the girl to read his deep inner thoughts. For the most part Vynter was an open book, he didn't have much to really hide, but given the current circumstances of his meetings with Valkyrie, he found that he was rather insecure with his thoughts at this moment in time. To have someone delve into such personal things at such a vulnerable time didn't quite sit well with her. Yet as she continued to snuggle close to him, to press herself tightly to his side and her maw nestled beneath his wing, something stirred deep within him.

He dismissed the feeling at first, but the longer they stood, and the more he grew accustomed to her warmth and sweet smell, the more his mind began to nag at that feeling. His eyes began to wander over her again, studying her small frame that he had been tending to for so long, and before he could stop himself he was turning his skull in direction. His white maw found the side of her skull, tenderly pressing his lips to her forehead before ever so slowly brushing along until he reached her ear. His hot breath blew on it for a moment, his eyes closed as he tested how he felt about the current action. This wasn't what he had planned on doing, but he had committed and so he would see this through.

His whiskers upon his muzzle twitched against the soft lining of her ear, and he couldn't help but note the feeling of it against his lips. As he remained where he was his body began to grow slack, eyes fluttering until they were half-lidded and his lips grew slightly parted. He remained in his position for awhile, deciding that he didn't quite mind the predicament he was in. His thoughts began to wander, to places he would consider uncharted in his mind, and yet in his distracted thinking he managed to breath out quite softly into her ear,"Soft..."

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


@Eira
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#7
Eira...
Though a complimentary compilation of her stocky, sinewy mother, Cirrus (daughter of the Ardent and the moonless night sky), and the noble characteristics of her father, Kirottu - the cursed and long misunderstood, it seemed unnatural that Eira should present in such a stunted and waif-like fashion.

In truth, there was barely a season between the pairs’ births, yet the scrawny filly appeared in all respects to be much younger and misleadingly helpless as she absorbed the steamy warmth of the long-legged herbalist. Her dwarfish frame was the unfortunate consequence of malnourishment, right when her need had been critical; Kaos had thrown her world into disarray, robing the month-old of her Ma (and Pa) and sentencing her to a good many months without milk.

The foal was intelligent, however, perhaps beyond her age. Through memory she retained an exceptional quantity (and quality) of information, and having had watched her parents browse on the grass and foliage about forest skirting their beach, she fought hard to survive by imitating just this.

Pure misfortune had cursed her sickly frame. The Rift, wild and without mercy, had afflicted her skin and so too caused the pain and tingling numbness in her hind-left; forks of blinding lightning frequently struck it, drawn to life by the queer static energy pulsing through her tissue. It was for exactly this reason that one such bolt had descended, and should she not have risen so quickly to follow him, perhaps she might bare yet another burn from its touch. Instead, she squealed softly, yet fearful and unaccustomed, and her leonine tail snapped tight against the taut, narrow haunches, as Eira scooted forward.

The colt was brave, dauntless it did seem, and though his eyes slipped to the point of fried moss, he barely flinched in response at all. So comfortable did she feel there beside him, bathed in the dimness of his shadow, that Eira barely noticed the gentle caress of hot breath and the very delicate fondling of her ears. Seconds bled into minutes before the soft pillow of his pastel, white muzzle collided against her skin; the filly’s breath paused and her legs looked to stiffen.

Indra’s nose was as soft as the powdery-black feathers that she knew lay beneath his wings, and as it caressed her tear-stained cheek, the horror of misadventure began to melt away. Behind them, the ocean’s incoming tide crashed on wildly across the shore; a warm Orangemoon breeze stirred it up into a white, frothing fury. The foal had been playing, paddling (for prior, she’d held no fear), until a driving back-wind forced a taller wave forward, and its murky black tunnel had swallowed her body, whole. “It’s alright,” her beloved womb-mate had whispered against the fur within her ear, “you’re safe now Eira,” and she slipped beneath his wing.

The filly’s blue eyes opened, half expecting the small roan figure to appear, yet as they wandered towards the source of the snug and soothing warmth, the painted grullo colt was there still, standing close beside. Naive was she to the slow and steady advancement of his manner, so the uncertainty which began to pluck away at her vulnerable resolve was scarcely understood. The length of her silver fringed tail flicked one way, and then the other, then he murmured a word against her, “soft,” and her gaunt mask shifted to better meet his eye. Soft? Fighting to find some context or the reason behind its sound, she looked ever imploringly upwards, an element of needy infatuation ripening also in her heart.
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
Vynter the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#8
WARNING! MINOR SEXUAL REFERENCING IN THIS POST. READER BEWARE.

Contrary to his inner thoughts, she didn't move when he advanced upon her ear. If anything she seemed receptive, pressing herself closer and letting her body gently press itself against his flank. The feathers along his gimped wing tickled her own, melding into a mix of silver and ashy grullo. A storm in the distance, and her and his coat were the sky and horizon preparing for it to come down. As he left his lips there against her receptor he was silent, feeling the moment before she was pulling away to look into his eyes.

Her own blue jewels were filled with a neediness, an intense infatuation that the boy could barely comprehend but also processed emotionally in a way he never had before. As his eyes locked with hers the feeling from before was alive once more, and with it came an intense heat that began to build from the center of himself and out. And before he could even think of what might come next the heat began to slide towards his nether regions, building and pulsating until something began to bloom that he had yet to recognize as part of him. There was a sharp intake of breath, as a deep need, an intense desire for something overtook him; and the swollen girth between his legs lashed out with a sudden twitch.

At once he was moving; pulling away from the welcoming cocoon of their embrace to give distance between them. As he walked the swollen member began to rub against his inner thighs, and although it felt incredibly uncomfortable to experience the sensation right in front of this innocent girl; it also felt incredibly good. His breath began to come in pants, and with a hot face and slightly panicked expression he bolted to the tree line with great awkwardness (having an unexpected boner did that to you). Once certain that he was out of sight from her, he at once looked beneath his undercarriage in search of the source of this sudden sensation.

It was his genitals causing the issue, it unsheathed and incredibly swollen. Normally it only came out when he was using the restroom; and it had never been this swollen. Ears pricked in morbid curiosity he attempted to bring his nose closer to investigate, but before it could it suddenly smacked itself hard against his lower stomach. And when it did a shiver ran along his spine. This was new, all too new and sudden and as much as he wanted to explore it; something about doing it at this moment felt oh so wrong. What had the blue dove done to cause this to happen? Had she cast a spell on him? Was she controlling the white hot desire that was prickling at his fur?

He didn't even know what his body wanted, but it wanted something and it wanted it right now. As he continued studying it he began to squirm, wanting to physically touch and explore to try and understand (and maybe to also make that good feeling come back), but what if she were to show up again? He was so conflicted, to the point where he began to awkwardly pace; ignoring his heavy breathing, the sweat beginning to form his body; and the obnoxious pulsing of his nether regions.

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


@Eira
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#9
Eira...
Surprisingly - and much to Eira’s dismay - the young colt recoiled without warning from the binding stare shared between them; her heart which had fluttered with innocently felt admiration, lurched and began to pound, startled.

All too quickly a cold loneliness moved to consume the void of humid space which stood now in his absence and the small blue horse’s puzzled gaze followed the swift-swinging motion of his rippling adolescent hindquarters (the hazel whisk of his tail, sweeping hock), as they hastened to retreat, away through the lush rainforest thicket; out of sight altogether. Eira sighed softly, the sound magnified by  resonating confusion, unsure what exactly had caused him to leave at that moment. For a minute longer, twin cupped ears upon her poll strained to listen - eager for the sound of his usual return journey.

Nothing but the low thrum of insects answered her longing.

It was a feeling she was well accustomed to, isolation, and though the heavy walls of rejection caved quickly in upon her paused, fine figure, Eira knew that to linger on behind him and dwell on assumptions would serve only to corrode away her good-sense - there were giants in this forest, thrice-headed predators, no less. To sway beneath the cunning cloud of distraction now, would be a very grave act of self-scarification, indeed. The filly pulled free her eyes from the line of leafy emerald which had swallowed him whole and drew a steady breath of the motionless, muggy air.

The shadows were growing around her, and the glint of scorching light beyond the towering canopy had sunk deep into the west. Darkness would smother the area quickly once the cradling horizon of hills to the west stood taller than the sun.

The enchanted rash (it was now an oozing blanket of scab) which, despite the colt’s very best efforts, refused to heal properly, was itchy and without the deterrence he’d previously been offering, Eira found her teeth eagerly raking across the surface. It was such an unbearably uncomfortable sensation, only amplified by the irritation of her touch; she craved the soothing cool of the ocean and began a slow crawl in that direction.

(Exit)
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden