after the fall(open)

Luthais Posts: 2
Unclaimed
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 3 years
mono
#1
denial, denial is all that I’ve known, holding me hostage I’m never alone
Eventually you'll wake up,” the voice sounded odd - distant, almost like an echo of a memory. Luthais felt the fog thicken around his head as he blinked bleerily. The usual chirpy chime of his companion that followed his waking was silent. He stilled, brow furrowed. In fact everything seemed oddly silent.

Elior?” his voice cracked as he raised his head slowly. A strange weakness creeped through his body as he shifted gently. It was dark, but he could make out the distant sound of wind rustling the treetops. Night, than, and he was outside as well. His ears gave a gentle flick as he blinked again. Where was that small parasite? Usually she would be voicing her sing-song complaints by now. With another slow shake of his head, Luthais took a glance down towards himself.

He was whole - thankfully - but the scarf he usually donned was notably gone. He suspected the pink scars the material usually covered were completely on display. Swallowing hard he shifted once more and brought his legs close to him. “Elior, this isn’t funny,” he tried again as he pushed himself to stand. There was a moment his body wavered, unbalanced. Where was he? This forest felt strange and almost numbed. He couldn’t feel the ebb and flow of magic that he could usually beckon.

Alarm slowly filled him as he turned around again to look for his small companion. But again he couldn’t hear her miniscule voice. His dark eyes widened with realization. He was alone here. His small companion - a mantis - was gone. His magic was gone. Everything was gone. “No,” he gasped quietly. Spinning around he looked back and forth between the endless trees.

His vision blurred and his steps felt unsteady. The usual coursing of magic he relied upon was completely cut off. His world felt strange - something vital was severed and he was left to adjust. This wasn’t what he wanted when he asked for a new start. Swallowing against the panic, Luthais tried to calm his breathing. His expression was carefully schooled back into that of neutrality.

The chaotic feelings were still a storm inside of him.

What kind of land was this to have stripped him so? He felt exposed and raw. His scarf, his magic, and even his companion were lost. He could only hope that Elior was safe. The cruel twist of a witch’s lips flickered through his mind. Trickster. His sides heaved with labored breaths as he tried to keep himself balanced. Luthais could only hope that the weakness in his limbs were wear off soon.

luthais,
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Ingrid Posts: 34
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 4.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.0 hh :: 2 (Frostfall) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Sky
#2

Reference Credit


Ingrid wound through the trees of the forest, it felt strange now, somehow familiar despite the fact that she'd only actually been through it once. She was here because she felt homesick. A little part of her was sure that someone would arrive with news from New Rheven. What are you, a teary housewife? Get a grip, she thought, rolling her eyes. She suddenly felt very stupid for coming here. What did I expect, for Linger to have come a hundred miles for tea?

She pawed at the dirt, turning to leave, but then she saw somebody she did recognize. A little squirrel with mushrooms running down its back chucked a berry at her face. She clumsily caught it in her mouth, "Hey buddy, nice to see you too!" It scampered down the tree and gave her leg a quick squirrel-hug before it started frantically pointing left while jumping up and down. "Alright Mr. Twix, I got it." Pleased, the critter guided her through the forest until she could see a very lost looking someone in the trees. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the twix vanished.

She edged towards the horse, thinking to herself that he looked a little like Sacre. Closer now, she realized that the stallion wasn't just confused, he was practically teetering along. She rushed forward, "Oh shit, shit, don't fall. Don't you know better than to get hammered in the woods by yourself? Gods, look at you, you're cut off. If you've still got the booze, you should probably give it to me, you know, for uh safekeeping... Then you can tell me what the hell happened to you."

@luthais

Stellaluna Posts: 15
World's Edge Mare atk: 3.5 | def: 6.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 6hh :: 2 HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Riven
#3
Stellaluna...
Like a leaf on the wind, the little bat is tricky to tether. Already she has memorised the aerial path to the threshold of this mysterious world; there are ancient trees who wave weathered old arms in the wind below, a snaking river that winks and sparkles like starlight and a vast muddy-gold meadow within which familiar old Mr Oak stands like a lighthouse on a cliff (they are landmarks on the internal map she reads). She studies the constellations hidden throughout the dazzling, glittering sky, and trails exactly opposite the slow pattern of her beloved Moon as She sails ever downward west. Stellaluna is an artful adventurer hailing from migratory lines, and it is through the hours of darkness that she moves (for she is nocturnal).

The murky breadth of deep forest (the dank, shadowy underworld she recalls), lies already in wake of her open, leathery wingspan and she drives north east with the jagged top-line of redwoods well in sight.

Valid reasoning called her back from the sanctuary the giantess had given her (that comfort, home which she had accepted gratefully); the pup was yet to hear word of her smaller sister, Charlotte, and loneliness gnawed a hole in her heart. Giant pupils, so large that her gleaming gaze appeared black, scoured the surface of the canopy, the forest’s crown, searching for trace of a flying fox; she was not alone, Mr Frogmouth flanked lower through bent bough and stiff, bark trunk and Mr Wombat (muttering miserably, for he was a bad-tempered fellow), bumbled and bustled through the undergrowth below. Between, nuts and blossoms whispered and gossiped, yet never had sign of the Little Red been found.

Well after the hour of midnight, the little bat needs to rest and she alights at last upon the outreaching arm of tired old White Oak’s wife (she is younger than he, and barely notices the light creature there). Long, hooked thumbs sink beneath the tree’s elaborately wrinkled skin and she balances with precision, high above the littered floor; safe, secure. The cold wind whispers busily by, stirring strange needles to hiss all around her, and the leaves of her host to flap and snap in wild frenzy; there is mention of Banksias and of them the child is wary - she knows they have infiltrated these parts. They are wolves, hungry and terribly cruel by nature, who serve faithfully wicked Mrs Snake.

A murmur down below rouses a quickening of her heartbeat (the pulse thunders through her ears), and savvy eyes dart that way, expecting perhaps the scuffing venture of tiny ‘baby’s feet’ (the sound was too meek to suggest lurking villains and far too loud to be the movement of marsupial friends). Someone did linger there, in the dismal depths nearby, bound unfortunately by the shackles of unrelenting gravity, and the figure as it rises to a standing position, is entirely unfamiliar - a good thing. Over the course of the following minutes, the stranger mumbles and gasps, turns and teeters; Stellaluna is quickly captivated, curious, and after a good while watching, draws enough courage to interrupt.

“Who are you talking to?” She almost asks, ironic coming from the girl who speaks often to the characters in her world of make-believe. All the while she is perched on that branch, watching with wide, inquisitive eyes, though her knees are knelt lower to rest and the membranes of her naked wings have wrapped snugly like a warm cocoon about the flesh of her body. Another speaks instead; the voice is hurried, scattered, barely feminine as it barrells along before the pale-face’s entrance. The bat fails to comprehend the words it bears forth, but she is compelled to sit in silence - to see how the interaction plays out beneath. Young Ringtail slips from her mother’s sleek back and nestles in close beside, lured by the bright tennor of concern.  
"Turn on the dark,
I'm afraid of the light!"
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Luthais Posts: 2
Unclaimed
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 3 years
mono
#4
denial, denial is all that I’ve known, holding me hostage I’m never alone
Don’t fall, she said - like he was purposely wobbling about the woods on weakened legs. The magic that might have stabilized him is, again, gone. He is reminded of this with every passing second. He wanted to call upon it to help - to feel it’s presence coursing under his skin with a gentle warmth. Instead he is met with a bitter cold that seeps deep into his bones. With a huffed sigh he turned his head to glance upon her. Cut off. Booze. Hammered. If only this was some intoxicated nightmare that he could pass off as a bad drink come morning. But he was lucid enough and his head was beginning to clear.

Not booze,” he grumbled. Once again he was reminded of a cruel twist of lips and that gentle, cooing voice that tempted him so. Her promises - that witch - had sounded good. He knew he had wanted to believe. Luthais expression darkened for a moment as he kept his focus upon standing upright. “Might have been mushrooms, actually,” there’s a bitter tug to his lips with this admission.

The small hut had been cozy, welcoming. By that point he had known the witch - why couldn’t he remember her name? - for weeks. Drawn together by a mutual connection with magic he had spent many nights theorizing with her, talking with her. But there was a haze over these memories that left him unable to recall any specifics. His brow furrowed as focused his attention back upon the mare with him now. “Or a bad run in with magic. I feel drained. And why does this forest feel so numb? Dead. Where am I?” the question finally slipped past his lips as he tried to keep the desperation off his face.

He’s grateful in that moment that he’s spent so much time learning how to wipe his emotions from his face. Liar, traitor, a spy. He could be none of those things if he could be read like an open book.

He remained completely oblivious to the company within the tree tops. Maybe, just maybe if his magic had still be with him he might have noticed. A gentle flow that coiled around and within every living creature. It was difficult to wrap his mind around the idea that he might not ever feel that connection again. Whatever this place was it was presenting him severed and bare to those within.

luthais,
art by vivaliis

@Ingrid @Stellaluna
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Ingrid Posts: 34
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 4.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.0 hh :: 2 (Frostfall) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Sky
#5

Reference Credit


No booze? Damn, Ingrid sighed. That would have made all of this much simpler. Simpler for the stallion, who would have been able to sleep off his ailment, and for her, because booze makes everything simpler.

"You're in Helovia: Where brilliance is good, and melodrama is better... Or something. There's magic here, it makes you squirrely. Maybe that's what you're feeling. And I don't know what mushrooms you ate, but if you want, I can take you to see a doctor."

Her eyes scanned the stallion, whose legs were still shaking. "That doesn't mean I'll carry you," she added.

"If you want to come with me, we should probably get going. My bedtime is three hours after sundown. If I'm not asleep by then I get grumpy, and I occasionally kick people. Wait—" There was a small rustle from one of the trees above, "did you hear that?" Then, a tiny owl swooped through the air past them and flew off into the forest. She turned to stare after it, and shook her head. "Whatever, never mind."

@Luthais @Stellaluna

Stellaluna Posts: 15
World's Edge Mare atk: 3.5 | def: 6.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 6hh :: 2 HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Riven
#6
Stellaluna...
The pair and their lackadaisical conduct is nothing short of enthralling, and before she even becomes aware of herself, the tiny black point of her nose is inching nearer, lips agape, engrossed expression dangling down from her wooden refuge - of course, she blends well into her murky, night-black surroundings, so the chance of her insignificant presence luring notice still seems slim.

There is a moment, while the lighter-coated woman speaks, that the little bat’s grip falters and old Mrs Oak shudders, tossing auburn leaves in mild protest. A soft kiss presses into the rough, cold bark and she regains her balance quickly, evading in turn, the flick of glowing crimson eyes beneath; at the same time, the canopy gives birth to an owl’s bothered flight.

A silent yawn stretches past elastic jowls, for the pup is still young, and tiredness nags at her wandering mind. Baby Ringtail draws back to her side, attracted to the warmth radiating beneath the thin membrane of her wings, and Stellaluna huddles down upon her roost while the pair banter on below. She moves a glance by them again, curious tangled through fatigue, but the long-lashed lids above grow too heavy to bear; they blink once and recover, blink twice and roll back with a serene sort of calmness.

While the wind buffets by, the swarthy bat succumbs to the delightful lull of sleep and the commotion below becomes naught but the soft drone of imagined berceuse.  

Quickly falls the painted canvas of all things past across her sleeping conscious; the raucous chatter of a flock called to wake by the dim caress of evening and the flight that would see them into a field of summer fruit, all ripe for the taking. The bat swoops among them and the little red fox swings beside, there is no strain between them for they are yet to fall apart, and the ‘tiggy’ game they play denotes the pure innocence of their youth.

[Stella out]
"Turn on the dark,
I'm afraid of the light!"

@Luthais
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