the Rift

[OPEN] Have violent ends [BIRTH]

Nephele Posts: 82
Dragon's Throat Guardian atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.3 :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Atreus :: Lammergeier :: None Nova
you can try to dirty my name,
but I'll wear your hate like war paint

There is no containing the fear which gripped her heart the moment her swollen sies began to quake. The tell tale trembling of the life inside desperately trying to get out. She had hoped she could last long enough, for what she could not say. An omen perhaps? That the Gods had not abandoned them as the World crumbled and blackened beneath their hooves?

No omen had come, and that optimism had bled away into grim feelings of abandonment and despair. As her knees bent down toward the grass of the meadow, she realized that those dark marks upon her heart only turned another shade darker. She would bring a life into this world, as the world in turn lost it's own. A agitated nicker escaped her as she laid her head between the vivid flowers that seemed more muted than she remembered and set to work pushing the life from her.

Sweat lined her chimeric body and each push she willed herself to give set her body alight with both pain and concern, her feathered wing lifted and gently fanning her side whenever she had the energy to spare. Nephele had almost forgot what birth was like, her children were grown and hopefully far away from Helovia by now. Caught by the same case of wanderlust she had when she was but a babe ready to spread her wings and fly. Hopefully, she could do the same for this one, some small part of her still hoped. Take them far away from the troubles which ailed around them, back to the place she had called her home in the years following her original departure.

Her thoughts distracted from the pain long enough for the last push to break through, one last lanced jab of pain as the child slipped from her and into the grassy bank she had chosen. In an instant, with more effort than she would of liked, her head lifted to glance at the small feathered mass. Gangly, she noted as she shifted enough to right her body, nose outstretched to gently to press against her child's side. The foal gave a stifled whinny, downy wings half-flapped as her daughter gasped her first few lungfuls of air as her legs set about finding their purchase. There's no denying the father, as if she had ever doubted the paternity, her dalliances with the Sultan were the only ones she'd bothered to entertain, but the skull which had gifted it's grim visage to her face confirmed that she was one of Volterra's own.

"Antiope." She muttered under her breath, as she began to clean her daughter


Art by Strixx @ DA


“She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.” 

― Terry Pratchett
Please tag Neph in all replies!
Force & violence permitted with the exception of maiming & death

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow

Given the amount of births he has attended, one could be forgiven for thinking that Volterra would be rather blase about the introduction of a new child into life. This is not the case - each time a foal of his is born, it is a miracle of its own, one that he cherishes as though it is the first one he's ever seen.

Today is no different as the onyx leviathan marches through the Meadow towards Nephele. This child wasn't planned - he and the antlered warrioress had a friends-with-benefits situation intended for pleasure rather than reproduction, but Volterra's rampant virility had other ideas. Regardless of the foal's status as a 'whoopsie', it will be loved and adored, raised to be a miniature warlord. The beast's stride is strong as he moves through the land, trying not to worry about the fact that this child is being born into such dark, twisted times.

The corrupted atmosphere has had an affect on Vérzés - he's started breathing toxic fumes in addition to his frost. He does this with gusto, causing his prey to tumble, dead, to the floor without him even needing to touch them. He demonstrates his new ability as he and Vadir soar above their mammoth bonded, their eyes trained on the birthing mare in front of them. The golden queen is less enamoured with her red brother's fledgling talent - she'd thought herself special with her ability to breathe both fire and shock.

Volterra lurks a safe distance away during the birth itself, knowing better than to get within kicking range of a female in labour. Only once he hears the familiar thud of a wet new body hitting the loam does he shift towards Nephele, swiftly drinking in the newborn's appearance. It's a filly, winged like her mother, and she is swiftly given the name Antiope. "A strong beauty," the beast booms, his blessing given easily to the newborn.

image: araxel

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]

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