the Rift

[OPEN] Become thy wisdom}

Bathsheba Posts: 45
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16.3 hh :: II years
I was tired, tired and sweaty, though not like I was that first day at the Veins. That was a day that in reality, had only been several days ago, but felt like yesterday. Erthë had been loathe to leave me alone, and I had been loathe to see her go if I was being honest. It is funny though how in the last week I found myself lying more than telling the truth to the face of the angel who bothered to help me. Truth was one of Mothers first teachings, 'always tell the truth! Never lie to me Sheba, never turn your cheek and leave me in the dark.'

I shake my head, ears trembling as kol tendrils fall against my forehead, sweat curls into the corner of every fold and shadow. I am weary, I cannot stop my legs from shaking as I put one hoof in front of the other, drawing myself further... and further toward this Dragon's Throat. The heat is strong, but not unbearable, just enough to make the slide of flesh uncomfortable as I approach what appears to be a beach of some kind. The sand turns from gold to pale grey as dark, bluish waters rush up to meet my toes. My tail snakes out from around shaky hind-legs to sweep across the grainy pellets, I want nothing more than to fall into the water, weep in the cool liquid and let it massage every ache and pain away. But I remain standing, muscles cramping under the effort and for the nth time since setting off from that grove, I wish I had not woken Erthë up so soon.

Erthë, oh my powdered angel, so sweet and kind with a face surely blessed by the Gods she spoke of. Gods that she claimed could heal and help me. I close my eyes, and lift my nose to the sky, nostrils flaring wide. "God..." my lips are chapped, dry and chafing against the strained words "if there is a God... please help me."


ooc - permission to pp Erthë having left. Sheba is basically just terribly lost and looking for a healer, she's got no idea what she's doing lol. Open for anybody but a healer would be fantastic!
hear me cry,
you've burnt my pride

image | coding

Amani Posts: 99
Deceased atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.3 :: Three Years HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE


I was just about to head out on my patrol for the season. I may be pregnant, but my duty to the herd still calls. Even more so now that I am trying to understand the role healers play within the herd. Our healing ranks had fallen so low that the switch was done without a second thought. It would be perfect. I could help everyone and be able to stay mostly within the Throat and protect my unborn child. That is, minus patrols. I had not found my partners so I assume they either have already gone or are busy otherwise.

I took to the skies, starting to find it harder and harder to lift my heavier frame. My sides are swollen quiet a bit by this time. To any who meet me, it will be completely obvious that I am with child. I have still not told Hector. I need to tell him. I think he knows but... Oh. What's that? My mind had been going so fast on making plans and thinking about my future as a mother that I didn't even realize I had made it to the edge of the Throat already. The gap between the mainland and home was just behind me. But down on the sands below... I know I saw something.

Carefully, I descend to the ground once more. My ears and eyes are alert for any danger. After all I am pregnant and alone. Perfect time for anything to attack. There! I spot the form I had seen from above. A young filly stood, and as I got closer I could tell something was wrong. Gently I move forward. "Sweetheart are you alright?" My voice is soft, as I don't want to spook the girl. She looks.... Well at once I move to her side and gently stretch a wing out over her, which would drape over her back in she would allow while also trying to keep her standing.

Golden eyes frantically look for anyone else nearby. Anyone that could get help. In my current state, there is no way I could get her across alone... Specially with no key to the bridge. I lift my head to the sky, silently praying to the God of the Sun to help us. I then let loose a cry, or well more of a scream. Anything that would draw attention to someone inside the Throat. Meanwhile I can feel my magics coming to life in my veins, ready to protect us should the cry attract the wrong attention.

"their speech goes here and this is the color

Please Tag Amani in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Amani at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream

He had been doing his herdly duties, keeping an eye on the borders. He wanted to speak with Amani again, check up on her and the foal that she was carrying. He was bound to be a little over-protective of the mare. She was carrying the precious cargo of a foal, and he wanted to do everything he could to make sure she was well cared for and comfortable while pregnant. Wings flapped as he coasted over the breezes of the waters of the Throat. When a cry rang through the air, his wingflaps faltered for a few beats before beginning to beat strongly once more. He knew that cry. It was Amani. Was she alright?! His wingbeats were even stronger, harder than before even knowing that there was a possibility that Amani and their precious foal could be injured. He hoped to the Sun God that harm had not come to either mother or child.

He spotted Amani, and by her side was a young mare, black and white tobiano. He coasted down gently towards the duo. "Amani, are you alright?" He asked, gently nuzzling the bay mare to make sure she wasn't injured at all. After assuring that Amani was alright, he turned to look at the young filly. "We should get her to a healer, Sikeax if at all possible.." He said. With his words, the stallion would attempt to get the filly onto his back. To carry her still light and growing form across the waters to the island where she could receive medicinal help if need be. His attention would turn towards Amani, and he would aim to brush a gentle nuzzle along her slowly-swelling side with a gentle smile before pushing down hard with his wings to lift into the air to lift both himself and the filly on his back into the air. The added weight would keep him closer to the water, but still in flight.

Once they crossed the water, he would let the filly gently slide off his back onto the sand beneath a tree. A trumpeting call escaped the large stallion, calling for Sikeax or any healer who had considerable skill with healing magic of any sort. This filly needed some healing, of what sort he wasn't aware of. But it was obvious she needed help.

Text. "Speech."

• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times

Bathsheba Posts: 45
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16.3 hh :: II years
Some part of me hoped that when help came, it would be in the form of some divine, ethereal being - if that is what Gods looked like. Instead it came in the plummeting body of a woman, a pegasus whose wings stretched easily across the sky. Pale white eyes watched her progress with barely veiled disappointment before it transitioned into something more akin to distrust. Had she been younger and draped in snowy white, I might have looked up with more welcome. Or maybe I was slowly becoming bitter of my companion leaving me alone in this deserted wilderness, nothing but a wide swath of water and cactus to keep me company. "Sweetheart, are you alright?", her voice reached out, soft but heavy with some emotion I did not bother to decipher.

"I'm-" my voice sounded rough, parched, even to me "I'm okay, I'm... I'm lost... just lost" Suddenly I did not want to tell her, I did not want to reveal my weakness to another stranger, one that might not be so kind. I turned my body in a stumble, hoping to hide the fading grey, green marks of my shame from view. The bruise had healed considerably in the days journey it took to get here, leaving only the superficial ugliness that came from being bumped one too many times. The pain I could not account for, in fact I could not confidently say it belonged solely to my bruise anymore, it seemed to permeate every part of me. The woman continued to move closer, and although her actions were gentle and made out of obvious caution, I wanted nothing more than to scuttle away.

My legs refused to budge, skinny, willowy pillars that had firmly rooted themselves in the sand, knees knocking and ankles struggling. Then the mare was screaming, forcing me to bring my head down toward my chest, ears folding into the black silk of my mane. It did not take but a few minutes before another equine trumpeted in response, I glanced up in time to see the landing of yet another pegasus, this one was male, his bulk thicker and legs wider. This time I did move, scrambling backward, narrowly avoiding an accident over one of the cactus that inhabited this area. "N- No! No I can't, I can't!" I cried, terror latching firmly onto my tongue, making it impossible to truly express how I felt in words. I could not... I could not focus, everything was spinning and my head felt light, airy. Thoughts were jumbling together into a mushed up mess, I could... could not... (No!)

It was easy for the stallion to maneuver me onto his back, legs spread unnaturally across the curve of his barrel, the soft feathers of his wings tickling the back of my knees. I was not sure what was actually happening, only that a feeling of weightlessness struck me, it was like someone stepping on my chest pressing as hard as they could. In a way I was thankful that everything was spinning, slowly becoming more and more difficult to see as pain throbbed down every nerve and clenched through every muscle. By the time I caught a glimpse of what might have been grass, I had closed my eyes, and fallen asleep.


ooc - honestly I'm surprised my poor baby lasted this long ;A; you're welcome to pp her however you wish until my next turn c: also, I haven't spoken to anyone about Sikeax joining this thread? If you want her here you might have to tag her, but I'm not sure so... >.>
@Amani @Hector
hear me cry,
you've burnt my pride

image | coding

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
Leadership has given her a thin line to walk upon, one that she struggles with so pitifully that she questions if those that had previously supported her, cried out their allegiance to her at the death of her predecessor, still wanted her to hold this title. It throws all the agony it can manage to inflict upon her in unison. She is left with a throne that she cannot fit her small, weak body into, holding overweight sword in healer’s hands only ever stained by the blood of her work and not the blood of war, being told by the world around her and the societies outside of her southern island that change is coming, and that there’s not a single possible way to for it to be gentle. She either has to toughen up or crumble before everyone that she’s ever considered dear, but bravery and strength are two boulders that each weigh more than a ton, ones that she can barely lift high enough to wiggle her fingers beneath their brims in just an attempt at lifting them.
Hobgoblin, her unlikely savior, takes it in strife for her, but not in the way that she would personally. What she has gained has easily become his own, and in the light of it, he drives it into darkness so deep that the light cowers in fear at the mere thought of penetrating it. It brings him power, something he’s only ever wanted in this life, the right to kill and escape from his actions if he sees fit, the ability to control others so far below him that he believes that they do not breathe even the same air as him.
And at his control and might, she walks this fine line with a balancing pole extended and prepares for the worst as she hopes for the best, chasing the invisible marks of their borders painted by waves and stone. Except today, she gifts herself with the chance to enjoy her family, curled so close to Bella that they might as well be glued onto one another.
Duty laughs in her face, if not all of them. Hobgoblin’s attachment to the filly is larger than the highest mountain that he has seen in the distance, and at the shriek that abruptly haunts the stillness of the Dragon’s Throat, he digs further, searching for the safety of her daughter.
You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Words do nothing to hide the fact that she still strongly comforts herself in the idea that Hobgoblin will come with her.
He doesn’t.
She gallops on tired limbs, heaving in cold sweat by the time that the three bodies rise out of the desert and damn her into a life that she has sworn herself free from the very moment that she couldn’t save the one that meant most. The child could be dying as far as she is aware, and here she is, ready to say no, that I can’t do this to those who are begging her with their voices instinctual to save someone she barely knows with something that she no longer has that she feels as if she’s known her entire life.
This is her, all by herself, facing the world with something she’s done so many times in the past, but driven down into the stone age.
Already, she is losing her patient. Instinct kicks in as she dives, taking the blade mounted against her head and bravely thrusting it to the hip of the child, looking for a way to bring her to her attention just long enough for her to figure out what to do.
Impatience invades as she expects the child to immediately stir. Sand climbs into her coat at the knees and below as she crumbles beside her body, basking in the coolness of the shade as it climbs over her.
Don’t go to sleep on me!” Vicious outcries carried out from the seriousness of the situation lets her spare no comfort for the child. “I need to know exactly what’s going on and how you feel, what’s hurting, everything to help you, and once you do that, you can sleep. Deal?”
She needs to learn, if not today but even someday, that making deals with the ill is an useless game.
The devil will always win in the end.

OOC: just for future reference, go ahead and tag Sikeax the very moment you need her in a thread. i'll get to it quicker that way.
Hobgoblin isn't around so therefore has zero form here.
the mentioned stab was nothing more than a rough prod, it might break the skin but not dive in and do some damage.
and last but not least, please ONLY tag me when it's my turn to post.

you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed

Amani Posts: 99
Deceased atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.3 :: Three Years HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE


Everything happened so fast. Hector arrived not long after I screamed. I barely remember hearing the girl speak about being lost of something. "Amani, are you alright?" "I am fine.. My voice trails off as he nuzzles me gently. Why? Why would he do this? I am not his mate. I'm just some girl he knocked up. I merely nod as Hector takes control, saying that we needed to get the girl to Sikeax. He was right. I hope she still has some sort of healing power or at least has herb knowledge. My mind is racing in a million different places as Hector moves the girl onto his back for the trip across. Neither of us have keys, so this will be the fastest way to get her to safety.

Soon we are flying back across into the Throat, I fly low and allow the tips of my wings to touch the waters below. I can feel my magic relax back as I no longer need it at a moments notice. Either way, it is nice to know that I have it if needed. Once across things continue to move fast. Hector calls for our Sultana, who was the former Sun Physician. Surely she will know what to do. I am not yet a healer, and have no idea what i'm doing. She arrives, and moves straight to the girl. My golden eyes watch as she works, using a blade against the girl's hip. I watch, not moving as this may be information I need to know later on.

I look to the Sultana, ready and willing to go get anything she needed. Then again, how much help will I be as heavily pregnant as I am now? But I will try at least. Golden eyes look over to Hector, so many questions still swirling around my mind for him as well. That, and well he needed to him that he was going to be a father for sure... I'm not this big and round from just eating grasses around the oasis..

"their speech goes here and this is the color


Please Tag Amani in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Amani at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Bathsheba Posts: 45
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16.3 hh :: II years
I'm dreaming again- I'm walking on a plane of glass, thin, breakable, so- my mirror image looks back at me with a fearsome expression, lips are painted in some golden color, ochre liquid dribbling down her chin in a strangely seductive manner, her eyes... oh her eyes are black as kol, staring up at me like the living dead. This beautiful creature is me, I know, and yet nothing in the dark soul trapped behind the glass is me at all. Nothing. She is laughing at me, laughing at my fear, and although I cannot hear through the blinding silence, I know that she mocks my fear. She mocks my weakness. My chest burns, writhing under a heat that strangles any chance I have of breathing. Everything is rushing then and for some reason the floor is getting closer, coming faster and faster and faster- "NO!"

Pain, the first real feeling that reaches out to greet me. Cold, malleable pain that warps and curls into every fiber of my being, sliding angry, sharp fingers into muscles and joints and bones. Black eyelids peel back from glistening blue eyes, eyes so blue that if you did not know better, you would think were white. They see, and as if a switch had been flipped, I remembered how to feel as well. Everything was white hot, my very core so tired and exhausted, furious at being drawn back into the waking world. How is it that some mere bruising and a long walk could cause such drastic, terrible pain? I felt more drained and abused than I had on the day I received the actual beating that started this whole thing. (You know what it is) I am lying down, soft grass tickled the underside of my barrel, and while rocks jabbed my ribs the ground was blessedly comfortable at the same time (stop ignoring it). There is a woman above me, kneeling against my side, mane draped across my neck as I slowly, but surely, raise my head off the ground. (Stop ignoring me).

"Don't go to sleep on me!"


"I need to know exactly what's going on and how you feel-"

(look at me)

"-everything to help you, and once you do that? You can sleep-"

(please don't forget about me!)


"Sickle-hock." my voice is so small, drowned in emotion as fiery, blinding tears burst across dark lashes, burning dirty trails down my cheeks. "I have sickle-hock and I am diseased. I got beat up and when I tried to fight back all I did was hurt myself. I am weak and reliant on others to help, heal, and look after my safety and well-being. But now my Mother is gone, she never came back and I am nobody else's responsibility, my herd forgets I exist and I just want-" I look up at this woman, this woman whose eyes seem to ache with something I cannot name, something that strums familiarity in my heart, but I do not want to think about how we could be similar. I need them to know. "-I just want to be able to do something. I want my Mother, I want magic and a companion and I want to be able to return the favor to the bully who hurt me and then make sure no one else has to deal with the same! I want to mean something to more than just the trees and the animals that watch  me wait, always wondering what she's always off doing, why does she always leave me alone?" My voice breaks as I stare hard into the strange woman's eyes, I can smell the heat radiating away from her flesh. It reminds me of warm sun and tree bark. "Why didn't she come back?"


ooc - DRAMA ALERT. DRAMA ALERT. Poor baby ;_; Dream gave us permission to skip Hector, she doesn't really have the muse and says to just pp him leaving or something :3 @Sikeax (I'm so sorry to drop this on her, they can have trouble together)
hear me cry,
you've burnt my pride

image | coding

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

"I will be right back, so wait here for me until I return, okay?"

Erthë was pretty sure that was what she had said. And the girl had nodded, right? There had been a definite up and down motion of her head, one that she had interpreted as comprehension and agreement. So why, upon returning with a bundle of herbs held awkwardly in the coils of her tail, was barren rock and a cactus all that awaited her? The young mare glared at the spot where she'd left the kid as though the stones might spit her back out if she waited long enough, but when long minutes had dragged past and no sound nor wafting scent had revealed the presence of her protege she swore and turned on her heals. Taking flight without an elevated perch was always a chore, a pain in her gimpy legs but this time the sheer anger she felt at herself and the silly brat granted strength; in moments the pale bird was airborne again and had her course set for the coast.

Like a frosty northern wind she swept southward in wide circles, biting of searing curses that would have made her own mother cringe had she been there to hear them as she scoured the ground for Bathsheba. Frost spread like a blanket of destruction in her wake, all thought of control and restraint forgotten. Was it so hard to wait for a few hours? Was it impossible to listen when you were being spoken to, and stay put if you realized someone who ought to be there suddenly wasn't? What if the stupid brat had gotten herself into trouble, what if she met a mountain lion or fell off the cliff into the sea or, gods forbid, some overzealous Throat guard took her for a spy and did something rash? They didn't call it Dragon's Throat for nothing, did they?

Finding nothing on the northern shore after sweeping across it several times, Erthë exhaled in a sharp snort and set out across the strait, pushing herself to the limit as she attempted the journey she had only made twice before in her life. Unlike the time when she had visited Badger or the subsequent return to report his disappearance (no, kidnapping was the correct term) Erthë felt she had far less cause to intrude without awaiting the escort of a guard, but her worry for the injured kid overruled reason and inter-herd courtesies. Let it become an incident if it had to, she wouldn't have it on her conscience if Sheba ended up dead because Erthë hadn't been around like she'd promised... Of course it wasn't her fault that the snotty brat refused to listen to reason, but who would care if the worst should happen?

Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, she didn't have to intrude far over the border before the filly finally came into view. ERthë thought her heart might stop when she spotted the painted frame lying on the ground, with two mares standing over her and a huge red stallion moving away from them. Diving down towards the red sand, she repeated the foolish maneuver of breaking far too late; as usual the impact with the ground made her want to scream as pain shot up through the never healing front legs, but also as usual whenever she did stupid things Erthë didn't have time to stop and wait the pain out.

"Sheba!" she cried as she wobbled forward, unsteady as much due to pain as to the shifting ground under her feet. "Stupid brat, I told you to wait for me! I said I'd be back so why did you leave on your own!? I swear to the Moon, I'll..!"

But as she came upon the fallen girl and the mares - winged and horned, familiar and unknown - her furious berating was cut short as worry overtook the anger, that still expelled from her in surges of frost-cold magic. Whatever moisture there was in the air turned to glittering frost such as the desert island rarely saw, covering the coat and feathers of the young philosopher and painting growing circles upon the sand; Erthë didn't even notice, immune to the cold as she was, too concerned about the kid she'd promised to help.

But Erthë had no cure for tears, and she didn't know how to find lost mothers. Nor did she know what to say in order to restore a child's faith in the world and her own place within it. Unlike Maren, Alune and Tembovu she had no wise words or reassuring smiles, no warm embraces or calm instructions to offer. Barely more than a kid herself, she was left bewildered and helpless, left to look desperately between Sikeax and the red pegasus who's name she didn't know in the hopes that they had something to say or do that might help.

All she could do was keep the kid cold, and that probably wouldn't help much at the moment.

Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking
image credit to Neaqmir on

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