the Rift

[OPEN] You came to me on a winters day [Death]

Shadow Posts: 153
Deceased atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14.2 :: 8 HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE

It had never been so hard to raise her head. And she had that day when she'd been washed up on the beach in firm memory. A white stallion had saved her that day, but it became increasingly clear that there was nothing her fair-coated little girl could do for her but cry. The icy cold nose that nudged her side gave her no energy, nor could the breaking, quivering voice rouse her to her feet.

Not this time.

"Erthë... litla dúfan mín. Listen to me..."

The child shook her head fervently, didn't want to listen. But Shadow continued anyway, her voice growing fainter for every pulsating flood of crimson that left her.

"Erthë. You have a brother. I... never told you about him, did I... His name is Kari. Find him, won't you? Tell him... Send him my love. Tell him 'I'm sorry'. Won't you?"

Shadow persisted until the girl reluctantly nodded. It was unclear whether she actually understood what was being said, what was happening, but the Blackbird had no time to explain. There were so many things she ought to have said, and done, and taught the girl! How to walk without breaking twigs every step of the way, how to blend in with the mist and the snow, how to cover your tracks and fend of predators and offensive stallions. She should have taught her more about flying, about the fickleness of the wind and how to navigate by the stars at night... How to love, and how boys weren't always bad.

Ah, but time was running out, wasn't it. The sun was blinding in the sky, but to her eyes it seemed dusk was falling early. She could feel the tug of a different wind in her blood-stained feathers, hear the call of exotic birds in the distance.

"One more thing..." She coughed. Blood splattered onto the dark lips, her voice barely audible now. "This... The horn. It belonged to a mare named Psyche. I kept it after defeating her, because... because.... Well. I don't remember anymore. Take it, and these things too. Return the horn to her, won't you? Or to her family."

Again the girl nodded, and Shadow smiled, finally able to relax. It wasn't so bad to lie there in the sand after all, was it. The pain had faded so nicely, and the sun was warm against her skin. Erthë was so pretty in the bright light, a radiant star so precious that everyone who crossed her path surely must come to love her. The best thing she ever made.

"Little dove... I love... you. Tell your... father... 'sorry' and.. 'goodbye...'"

The face of her daughters face blurred and changed, altered into the visage of the pale stallion who had captured her heart without even trying - probably without even meaning to. With his name on her lips she breathed out one final, long sigh.

And then there was only silence.


Shadow is dead. Everyone is welcome to post, just please let Erthë reply first! HP: 42

Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
E r t h ë
"And now I wish to God that The earth would turn cold
And my heart would forget it's made of glass"

"Mama? Hey, mama? Wake up... hey, wake up!"  

The child's attempts at rousing the dark mare grew more and more frantic. The pain as her pleas were met with no response went beyond went beyond words. It was a gaping void that opened in her chest, an all consuming black hole that swallowed everything. The heat of the sun that beat against her skin, the murmur of voices around her, crying birds that flew past high up in the sky... They were all pointless compared to the silence of the shadow, the blackbird, the warm shade. Blood kept leaking from the deep puncture marks in her chest but it no longer gushed forth in pulsating streams, had stilled into a gentle trickle that spread the crimson pool wider around them.

Erthë stared numbly at it, refusing to believe it. No. The god was dead but her mother couldn't be. How could she be? They still hadn't practiced gliding on the Thistel Meadow, like she'd promised. They hadn't visited uncle Badger at the Dragon's Throat either, and how was she supposed to know where to go when the heat grew intense if mother wasn't there to show her the good spots?

She looked at the horn that had rolled out from its hiding place beneath a black wing. It was gnarled and stick-like, short and twisted and ugly, and the child resented it for no particular reason. A brother... she had a brother. He was.. where? How was she supposed to find him, and this Psyche. The names were strange to her, their faces unknown, whereabouts unknown. It was an impossible task. How could Shadow expect her to accomplish that, or untie the lockets from her tangled raven hair; the two amber stones and the glowing acorn, all things she had rattled around with playfully as they settled in to sleep.

The pretty, ivory bow that lay not far away was only spared a fleeting glance; it was unimportant, unrelated. Were she to take that too? Okay. Mother told her to, so she would.

"Mama... please wake up now..?" she pleaded, as tears streamed endlessly from unblinking eyes.

"And all the pretty tulips would disappear
And never disturb me again"

@Miykael - maybe heal Erthë here? :3

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening posts |~

Maren the Crownless Posts: 264
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.0 :: 6 HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Mr. Teatime :: Siberian Tiger :: Sing Yewrezz

… The echoes returned and she remembered all the words she and Shadow had exchanged, and she wondered when exactly in this sunlit, but seemingly forsaken time the birds had left their trees. And she randomly wondered if it had been the trembling, or perhaps the lack of that embrace —

Shadow was dead: The pegasus lay there lifeless, wings striped from their precious flight and the body stripped from their even more precious soul. Nothing was left of the friend she knew. And yet, somehow, she lay there so peacefully in the halo of sunlight. Ignited by a strange kind of grace only the dead seem to adorn.She had gone and had taken all from herself. Except the mental pictures that Maren had left in her mind, and she would break them, the memories, into bits that resembled the shards of diamonds and she would treasure them, instead and as she would travel onwards through life she would carefully leave those shimmering shards behind, one by one, until she was again left with none.  

Her golden eyes still lay locked on her old friend, folded in silence. Of course she, too, wondered why there couldn’t be another one; another day, another tomorrow where she was still alive. Why the tigermare, from now on, had to live without one of her oldest friends —And that battle was simply what it meant to be mortal, so she was fine; for sadness only went as far as her priorities permitted.

She had long ago accepted that, perhaps, she was heartless and cruel (didn’t mean she was not right). Still, she sighed a whisper without really knowing why she was getting herself involved more than her mind was already. Perhaps it was because she was suddenly infected by the loneliness projected before her eyes in a pearl white figure. “Ërthe…” The girl seemed a bit broken; a fragile puddle of white fur and feathers slowly drowning in its own sadness. So a voice within her whispered to her that she couldn’t just leave the girl as she was; as she lay next to her dead mother on her own. 

Confused by the solid knowledge that this was the way things went and also her own rights as a friend, she decided to just move her golden eyes up to the sky and cursed Shadow for leaving her daughter behind like this in silence. 

So she continued standing there, still with quivering bones from the fight, bruised and burned and dripping black slime. Looking perhaps a bit awkward, because she wasn’t crying. Wasn’t doing anything except stay quiet —And yet maybe could give some kind of moral support. Maybe even become a pillar the child could grab on to when it would all become too much; a light for guidance, maybe. But all that would be after this now: this moment of rippled tragedy that she looked over and upon from a distance created by the silence of golden eyes.

*sadness* ; A ; @Ërthe

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Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo

i am the vanguard of your destruction
The shadow fails.

So many circles were closing, as haphazard as sand blown about, or the ruffled wings of a fallen bird; here, where another battle had raged, the ends tied together and maybe no one would ever know.

Had he seen it, maybe he would've known—remembered—the horn that had once been the pride of his fallen love. It was just another dark thing lying in the pool of blood.

He knew the mare—knew the pitch black of her coat, knew the lines of her face. Not well, but he knew them, for he had saved her once, so long ago, but he could not save her again. Maybe, if he hadn't then, he could've now, but he was no angel—he was just a unicorn. He was just a frozen soul with the rising sun spreading out behind him like wings, and his touch could only harm.

The water was pink where it lapped against his frozen hooves.

The end had come for yet another.

He had watched a father mourn his daughter—he had been the sentinel, the one who had seen her begin, and one who had seen her end.

Now, he watched a daughter mourn her mother, and he was simply a fragment of her past, a kind stranger upon the beach. A wanderer, who simply had happened to pass her by—not even a King.

"Mama... please wake up now..?"

It was his holy priestess who stood by the weeping child, the stars in her eyes as sharp as ever, gazing upon the fallen crow; Mauja felt too tired to feel anything. Too exhausted by this fucking nonsense to want to care.

No breath made the black sides swell. Only gravity pulled the last of the blood out of her veins.

Mauja didn't weep; cold anger smoldered in his gaze as he glared towards the Sun. He had promised peace, and instead, he had delivered death. He had left a child motherless. He—well, what the fuck did he care anyway? Mauja would never forget the raging flames destroying the Edge, the careless rage which flung an ancient mare aside like nothing of value.

There was much Mauja would never forget.

"I hope you found your heaven," he said instead, his voice cold iron. He couldn't bring himself to feel in this mess—could barely care, because the fury was so much larger than his soul.

It was easier not to feel.

Easier not to feel the dread weight crawling through his veins, the erratic sparks of anger, of fury, of helplessness—the bitter rage at the cruelty of the world, of the gods, of his own god-damned past. How many children hadn't he left orphaned? How many lives hadn't he torn asunder? How much destruction hadn't he wrought?

The least he could—should—do was feel. Give in. Collapse. Acknowledge the suffering death brought.

Stop being such a fucking coward who hid within the ice.

When Psyche died, he had cried. When Psyche died, he had lost himself in an unreality, a place where nothing seemed real. "She won't wake," he finally told the little girl, reaching down to touch her.

She was cold as Death itself.

Cold as her mother lying in the pool of her own blood.

"She's left us." Quiet voice, quiet words, quiet eyes; he breathed against the snow-cold skin.

He wasn't strong enough to feel. He wasn't strong enough to let the anger break his skull apart; to let the sorrow burst his heart; to let anything but faint echoes of the emotions into existence. Ashamed, he closed his eyes. The only thing he felt was the weight in his heartbeat, the dissonance in his veins; a quiet song humming in his blood, a dirge for all that which was lost.

We all lose, in the end.

He had saved her once, but he couldn't save her again.

He was the Light of Dawn, the last, bright star to forsake the sky—

He was no angel.

Night had fallen, and there would be no dawn again. Silence had taken yet another, and silent she would remain.

(At long last, he glanced down, and saw the bloodied horn.)

And silence reigned in his heart, too.

[ @Erthë @Maren ]
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
we live like thieves
     kings among men

Perhaps they would have walked right past it and never noticed. It might have been better. But the world wanted to remind them of the its harsher side one more time. Haldir saw it first. Having been glued to the golden’s side his sudden stop, concerns the gold. Looking where his companion did the scene unfolds in slow motion tragedy. A dark mass lay heaped, broken and still. And by it a white angel, no child. The pair, he knew them, from where…oh. “Fuck.” His narled voice sighes. His chest begins to ache and breath gros ever more shallow, the reaction to the scene unbidden comes storming in. It was too late to turn back now, and knowing that hell was all that awaited him he could do nothing else but turn towards the growing gathering.

He comes like the others around, silent sentinels watching the harsh realities of the world crash upon the fair child. But inside the sinking pit was pulling him down. Though face was cold as stone, locked in the strain of its own struggle, inside he was anything but still. He had been doing alright. The scene in the Basin, it had left him weak, the mountains before that had threatened, but the golden was still here. But this. Now. In this moment. His knees quaked and the old long treaded threads of thought that ever seeped into his nightmares begin to play before him again.

Why must he witness the too soon turning of the world? Always see the mother fall with the child still clutching their breast. Why must all be so much the same. So much like… Crowned head wavers, heavy with the thoughts, falling low. Always a babe. Always beyond his control. The black bird and her snow child had come into his world like hated trespassers. They should be gaining doing this to him! They couldn’t. It was not sane. The reaction did not match their tale. But you see, that is where the insanity of it lies. Their faces could be replaced by any around him, and it would still grip his chest in the forming ice of fear.

He was the golden son, the thief of the Basin, the golden lord of the north. A picture of power, pride, and skill. A captive. Lies wrapped around like chains forming his prison. Old wounds made sore and more tender from their constant reawakening. How many ages is it becoming now, how many seasons where someone seemed to barge into the sacred halls and pull at them. Where they gripped his neck tighter with their cold iron touch. And in the weakness of his sickness, in the near constant blur of remembrance, it took only the sight of the pair to drag his head down into hell of his own making.

God he couldn’t do this. A strained breath fails to come and he’s left to gasp and rack for air again. A soft nudge nearly threatens his balance. Haldir. The deer looks up to the gold with worry in his eyes, and already instinctive smoke rising at his hooves. Earth eyes narrow, but then a voice breaks through. Haldir looks and the gold does as well. Others were here. Watching. Next to the stoic creatures alongside him, a pathetic lord. Good gods. It breaks the scene and the trance. The lies wrapping back around him quickly, restoring the bleeding chest to its golden gleam. And just like that, even in weakness, and sickness, he is the golden.

Earth eyes grow distant and cold, dull, and the crowned head rises back up again. Harks twitch as the creature steps forward to touch the snow child. Now though his heart was locked away, and the lies ruling by some insane hand, hold their vice grip on the reins. [in elvish] “Take her home.” The dark deer looked with pained face to the gold, but found on strained and careless earth eyes waiting. ”We all go home.” The deer’s reply was stronger than the golden expected, but it was rejected. “No. Go.” The deer languished, but his frame sank, and he slinks forward. The gold watches on in forced distance, yet caught for a moment in a coughing. He does his best to stifle it again, wiping the blood upon his foreleg.

Small and meek the injured deer come closer to the snow child. He was not much taller than she. It was long ago he had come to her before, to use her for her own good. Now he hesitates on the edge, knowing what the golden wanted but too anguished to touch the child. The golden, his senses coming back after his struggle sees the hesitation. Gut clinches, threatening a relapse. “Erthe, ho-….” A cough breaks his speech and he never finishes….home waits. ....Haldir will take you to the Basin. Will get you out of my sight. Will stop you from threatening my sanity. But he couldn’t say it yet. When the trembling frame stills again he is silent.

OOC:: Crap post is crap, I'm so sorry. This deserves so much more. Haldir will escort Erthe home to the Basin if she wishes. =]

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Badger Posts: 68
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Gelding :: Equine :: 15'2hh :: 10 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE


I'd known that something had gone badly wrong during the battle. Erthë had been badly wounded, but I hadn't seen Shadow get gruesomly injured, too. If only I'd seen, if only I'd noticed...I could have saved her. But it seems lightning does not strike twice. The Gods decided that today was the day she died, and no man or beast could keep them from claiming her for their realm.

No. Oh, no. The scene I come upon is one of abect misery, and my posture reflects it. I hold my head low, my back arched and hollowed. I know I will see a body, but that doesn't prepare me for the reality of it. There she is, the Blackbird, gone. My head hangs lower, and a single tear slides free from my eyes. She's gone. Forever.

She is in a better place - that's what I reassure myself with. I believe in the afterlife, because my humans did and because the alternative - that there's nothing but oblivion - is too terrifying to contemplate. I choose to picture Shadow, young and rejuvenated, dancing through paradise. As a result, I grieve not for her, as such - although I am deeply saddened by her death - but for her daughter. Shadow is gone, safe, happy. Erthë is alone. Not in the true sense of the world, because she has her father and me, but alone in a way that I fully sympathise with. I know as well as anybody that no other living thing can compensate for the loss of a mother.

Oh, how stupid I'd been to think that just because there's no humans around, Erthë would get to keep her mother until she was good and ready! How idiotic of me not to consider the simple flaw in all living flesh - that we are all fallible, that we are all walking sacks of meat just waiting to be reclaimed by the earth! That we all die, one day, try as we might to rage against the inevitable.

I force myself to notice the others. I recognise some - Erthë obviously, Maren from the Throat, and golden Thranduil who greeted us in the Basin that time. There is also a spotted stallion I do not know, and I give him a wide berth as I approach the filly and the dead black mare. I blink away my tears and try to look strong, for her. She can't see her Uncle Badger cry. I don't deserve to cry, when I did not know Shadow half as well as Erthë did. "Oh, Erthë," I greet, forcing a smile into life on my lips. It's as false as the grin of a clown, and just as easily torn aside, but I feel like I need to do it, for her. "I'm here for you, you know that?" It's all I can say, all I can summon up. I want to offer her a home in the Throat with me, but I know she'll want to be with her father. I have no right to take her from him, when he is probably grieving as much as I am. So I hold my tongue, and offer what I can - I extend my muzzle and try to touch it to the filly's ice-cold shoulder, to try and reassure her that she will never be alone.

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Miykael Posts: 136
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 11 :: Birdsong
Eliana :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Rottie
He reassured their minds by his serenity.
His countenance, wherein his soul was visible,
expressed contempt for danger.

The falling of the beast and the subsequent actions of the Sun God signal the end of the battle. Signaling what should have been the end of the chaos. The cacophony of sounds die down, growing quieter with softer conversations splitting off to their own little groups. All except one. His blue eyes quickly pinpoint the source of the panicked screams and his heart sinks at the scene unfolding before them all. As much as he longed to turn and seek out Naerys first and make sure the girl is okay, his eyes are permanently locked onto the filly and the dark mare beside her. He sees the blood rapidly pooling beneath the dark mare and a numbness floods through him - muffling the disease, softening the pain that had been throbbing in his skull, and dulling the ache from the burn on his croup.

Without even thinking, he steps forward; his long limbs bringing him sluggishly towards the small filly as the life drains from her mother. He's too numb to cry, too numb to notice the crowd that has already begun to gather. But he moves forward anyway, slipping through the bodies he doesn't really see. For several moments he simply stands, his blue gaze watching the small girl. The healer hears their words, and yet they don't fully register - not enough to consider a reply. Wordlessly, he reaches for her - a gentle, tender touch of his black stained lips to her shoulder. Without hesitation, he pulls forth his light and focuses it on the small girl's chest. That small light grows, expanding with a soothing warmth to fill her chest and lungs.

For a moment, he wonders if he could take away her pain along with this disgusting disease. But as soon as the blackness is gone, he lets the light fade. No magic could heal a broken heart. Even he knew that. Just as no magic that he could ever possess could ever bring her mother back. The realization hurt but nothing hurt as much as seeing the tears flowing from her soft eyes. "I'm so, so sorry." he murmurs. His voice is soft, strained from the unshed tears, and barely above a whisper. His words are meant for her and her alone. With his large, angelic wings folded loosely at his sides, he turns and slips away just as quietly as he'd come.

There is no reason for him to stay. No reason to linger.
He's done all he can do, but as he walks away he can feel his heart crumbling beneath the weight of it all.


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[Awful post. So sorry but at least it's here. <3]
[Image: mikey_by_moonstone_designs-d9dgnba.png]
icon base: Bronzehalo :: from Nickel <3

permission for all except death and dismemberment.
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Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
E r t h ë
"And now I wish to God that The earth would turn cold
And my heart would forget it's made of glass"

Numb. Cold. Disbelieving.

Someone called her name, and the voice seemed to come from very far away. Erthë turned, and her eyes as she looked up and saw others gathered around the fallen mare was black with grief. There were so many of them. People she knew and people she had never seen before, familiar faces and unknown strangers. Again and again her name was called, mumbled words of regret and sympathy.

But she felt nothing but emptiness as she listened to their laments.

A white unicorn, spotted with inverted stars or perhaps dyed in mimicry of a stone-strewn winter mountain side, told her that her mother had left. That made absolutely no sense to her, because her mother was still there, wasn't she. Her body was still warm, the blood was still oozing from the gaping wounds in her chest, the tangled mane still fluttered in the soft breeze. With the lids closed over amethyst orbs it looked as though she was simply asleep, dozing in the bright, warm sunlight.

It was just her sides that didn't move, only breath that didn't stir the glittering water beneath the soft nose. The mare looked too peaceful, an expression the pale child had almost never seen on her mothers face while she was still...

While she was still alive.

Maren was there, and the painted healer, Miykael. He did something that enveloped her in a sensation of warmth, like fireflies and rays of light and glowing embers swirled and danced through her body. It tickled and warmed and chilled, and it might be her imagination but the filly felt as though it became easier to breathe for a moment, as though the black muck loosened in her lungs. The golden lord of the Basin said something, but she couldn't really make out what.

It wasn't until Badger spoke that she stirred, finally reacting to something that was being said. Clumsily the filly got to her feet and limped over to the dark equine, pain and sadness and the gravity of her loss spilling over in new icy tears as she made to press herself against his chest. There she remained for quite some time, the slender young body quivering and shaking as she let emotions take over; not oblivious to those present, just too overwhelmed to respond to their kindness and quiet support.

"And all the pretty tulips would disappear
And never disturb me again"


@Random Event - GLL healing :D

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening posts |~

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719
Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE
Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu
the Mother of Companions

When she saw Shadow's fallen body from the air, and all the slowly gathering horses, Ampere's stomach sank. Slowly, her body did too.

She had never been exceptionally close to the mare, but after rescuing her from imprisonment it had been the mare's invitation to the Throat that gave Ampere so many opportunities. She had been one of the first friends to the Mother of Companions when she'd had none. She had... she had lamented the loss of another child, and Ampere felt at fault. She had screamed at her when they got off the boat, and she tried to help, but to what end?

Exhaling softly Ampere shuffled forward, head bowed as she carried that last fight, that final encounter inside her heart. "I will find your Kairi" she whispered, the promise something unbreakable as she forged it over the body that grew cold. When her blue gaze finally lifted, she was surprised at all those who had gathered. From watching, most seemed connected to the pale filly the mare left behind, while Ampere knew nothing of her. What a strange relationship, she mused, but one she was sad to loose.
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Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Erthe is cured of GLL!

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