04-13-2016, 12:47 PM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Lato' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style> #talbackground{position:relative;z-index:1;width:500px; padding:20px; background:#fff url('http://www.designbolts.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/Beautiful-White-tiles-Seamless-Pattern.jpg'); box-shadow:0px 0px 15px #413f42;} #talcontainer{position:relative;z-index:2;width:500px; padding:2px; background:#404042;}#talcontainer p{margin:0;}#talcontainer img{position:relative;z-index:3;width:500px;} #talgradient{position:absolute;z-index:5;width:500px;height:100px;top:260px;background:-webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%,rgba(255,255,255,0)), color-stop(1%,rgba(164,165,167,0)), color-stop(30%,rgba(64,64,66,0.43)), color-stop(69%,rgba(64,64,66,1)), color-stop(100%,rgba(64,64,66,1))); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%,rgba(164,165,167,0) 1%,rgba(64,64,66,0.43) 30%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 69%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 100%); background: -o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%,rgba(164,165,167,0) 1%,rgba(64,64,66,0.43) 30%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 69%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 100%); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%,rgba(164,165,167,0) 1%,rgba(64,64,66,0.43) 30%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 69%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(255,255,255,0) 0%,rgba(164,165,167,0) 1%,rgba(64,64,66,0.43) 30%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 69%,rgba(64,64,66,1) 100%);filter:progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient(startColorstr='#00ffffff', endColorstr='#404042',GradientType=0 );}#talmessage{position:relative; z-index:10;text-align:justify; padding:0 20px 10px 20px; font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height:1.5; color:#171f19;}#talname{font:42px 'Lato', sans-serif; text-shadow:3px 3px 0px rgba(0,0,0,0.3); color:#a36d3e;letter-spacing:4px;text-align:center;}#talquote{color:#232228;font:14px 'Lato', sans-serif; margin-top:-20px;}</style><center><div id="talbackground"><div id="talcontainer"><img src="http://s5.favim.com/orig/140616/adventure-blonde-nature-retro-Favim.com-1842037.jpg"><div id="talgradient"></div><p id="talmessage">Talulah wonders, mid-air, if she’s revealed her cards too early. Should she have waited to play her hand? Should she have saved her disappearing act for the moment he was about to strike instead? Perhaps invisibility is most effective as a defensive, rather than an offensive, tactic. But it is too late to change her mind, too late to ignore gravity’s call. He tries to evade her invisible assault by twisting to his left, but it isn’t enough. The soft give of his skin beneath her hooves is all the validation she needs that she’s made the right decision. She hits him squarely on his exposed right shoulder (not the target she intended, but a successful blow had been her primary goal, anyway). She doesn’t have time to evaluate the change in his movements before she is off again around his left side.
Well, she had <i>meant</i> to go around his left side. His blind pivot to his left, however, forces her to change course and veer around his right side. The Dalean soldier comes back to visibility just as a wave of heat rushes over her head. The base of her neck tingles in response to a fire that is all too familiar. It burns the ground here but also ignites her memories. She doesn’t even have to look at the white-blue flames licking the sand to know where they originated. She doesn’t have to trace the ever-closing curtain of unrivaled fire to know its source, to fully realize the implications of its wielder. Somehow, somewhere along the line, Lupei’s story was intertwined with Tiberios’. And the only possible final chapter to the story was written in blood. Either their bloodlines had crossed somewhere (is he yet another child by Tiberios she didn’t know of?), or he had taken the once-Falls’ king’s gift by simultaneously taking his life.
She’s never known what killed Tiberios, after all.
And it has to have been a <i>what</i>, not a <i>who</i>. The black sabino’s body had been mangled beyond recognition, beyond sense. Whatever had murdered the scorched man, it hadn’t been the dull hooves of another equine. She has taken comfort in that, at least, when the nights are darker without his flames to light them – at least some great, unavoidable beast had felled him, not political gain or the whims of their devious world. He had been <i>consumed</i> by the jaws of a fearsome beast, like her own mother; they are deaths that had wrenched away parts of her soul, but hadn’t been without cause. <i>Unless.</i> The word echoes in her mind like the tolling of a bell, as it has countless times since she discovered his death. <i>Unless it had been both beast and horse.</i>
She can’t and doesn’t suspect that the very same creature lies dormant within Lupei. The wall of flames that he summons sends her mind spinning (his living, whole face and his dead, shattered face take turns appearing in her head) but does not stop her legs. Talulah shakes the thoughts violently from her head, even as she is already trying to evacuate the fiery circle before it is complete. She closes in on the remaining open space and she thinks she will make it. But the stallion’s control over the blaze is too great. Her muzzle slips through just as the white-blue curtain hisses closed, singing the tip of her nose and immediately blistering. The grey’s hind-legs bunch under her with her forceful stop, each displaced particle of dirt hitting her belly its own kind of blessing; she shudders to think what might have happened if she hadn’t been able to in time.
But just as she thinks she is safe enough, the wall moves in even closer. Handcuffed in her motion and far too close to the crackling wall, Talulah back-steps until she has enough room to spin on her heels. Her gaze immediately locks on the mint and teal man, her amber gaze hard and scrutinizing. She understands his plan to draw her in and she is rather perturbed it is working out as he intends. So instead of making it even easier on the Chamberling, she keeps her backside as close to the wall behind her as is safe (not that any remote proximity to the wall is safe). Quickly, Lupei charges in response. It is an easy distance for him to close; she hopes it feels more like a vast, perilous desert with his injured shoulder.
He is on her in no time. She waits to move until he is there (why not conserve the energy?) and ducks to her right just as he swings in front of her to his own right. His hind legs raise in a flurry of movement, but she is already turned away too much to see it. She senses, rather than sees, that his blow is imminent. She feels, rather than avoids, the contrastingly sharp pain in her forearm brought about by dull hooves. She is fortunate. If she was any other horse, it might have crippled her to the death. But she is different; her body is different. The metal shield she wears as comfortably as another’s own skin falls in an ombre of density along her legs. His mark hits along her well-protected radius. Had it struck lower, she might be downed rather than wincing in pain with every step of her left foreleg.
Lupei shoots away after his attack. Talulah does much the same, picking up a canter that is impaired by her throbbing left forearm. They are heading in opposite directions around the bowl of fire like comets, destined to collide on the opposite side. Even with the fire-wielders’ expansion of the wall, it doesn’t take long for them to reach each other. The grey can feel the heat against her right side. Her eyes water from it, but she blinks the tears away as quickly as she can. Once again - if she has been successful in tracking Lupei – he is right in front of her. But this time, she is partially handicapped. When she leaps to her left further into the circle of fire, her leg screams with the effort. The metal-mare grits her teeth and leans into her front left leg, kicking out against Lupei’s right side. She hopes she has jumped far enough ahead to hit him further back. Perhaps she will crack a rib or two under skin that is less muscled along his barrel. If not, she might land a blow on his other shoulder or further down on his foreleg (let him see how <i>that</i> injury feels).
Talulah moves into the middle of the ring and goes invisible. She just needs a moment to collect herself, to steady her breathing. By the time he moves to find her, she has moved as well. The grey allows herself to become visible again only when she has found the fire’s edge. Hopefully it will distract and disorient him for a minute.
</p><p id="talname">t a l u l a h</p><p id="talquote">metal woman of the dale</p></div></div></center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient(startColorstr='#00ffffff', endColorstr='#404042',GradientType=0 );}#talmessage{position:relative; z-index:10;text-align:justify; padding:0 20px 10px 20px; font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height:1.5; color:#171f19;}#talname{font:42px 'Lato', sans-serif; text-shadow:3px 3px 0px rgba(0,0,0,0.3); color:#a36d3e;letter-spacing:4px;text-align:center;}#talquote{color:#232228;font:14px 'Lato', sans-serif; margin-top:-20px;}</style><center><div id="talbackground"><div id="talcontainer"><img src="http://s5.favim.com/orig/140616/adventure-blonde-nature-retro-Favim.com-1842037.jpg"><div id="talgradient"></div><p id="talmessage">Talulah wonders, mid-air, if she’s revealed her cards too early. Should she have waited to play her hand? Should she have saved her disappearing act for the moment he was about to strike instead? Perhaps invisibility is most effective as a defensive, rather than an offensive, tactic. But it is too late to change her mind, too late to ignore gravity’s call. He tries to evade her invisible assault by twisting to his left, but it isn’t enough. The soft give of his skin beneath her hooves is all the validation she needs that she’s made the right decision. She hits him squarely on his exposed right shoulder (not the target she intended, but a successful blow had been her primary goal, anyway). She doesn’t have time to evaluate the change in his movements before she is off again around his left side. Well, she had <i>meant</i> to go around his left side. His blind pivot to his left, however, forces her to change course and veer around his right side. The Dalean soldier comes back to visibility just as a wave of heat rushes over her head. The base of her neck tingles in response to a fire that is all too familiar. It burns the ground here but also ignites her memories. She doesn’t even have to look at the white-blue flames licking the sand to know where they originated. She doesn’t have to trace the ever-closing curtain of unrivaled fire to know its source, to fully realize the implications of its wielder. Somehow, somewhere along the line, Lupei’s story was intertwined with Tiberios’. And the only possible final chapter to the story was written in blood. Either their bloodlines had crossed somewhere (is he yet another child by Tiberios she didn’t know of?), or he had taken the once-Falls’ king’s gift by simultaneously taking his life.
She’s never known what killed Tiberios, after all.
And it has to have been a <i>what</i>, not a <i>who</i>. The black sabino’s body had been mangled beyond recognition, beyond sense. Whatever had murdered the scorched man, it hadn’t been the dull hooves of another equine. She has taken comfort in that, at least, when the nights are darker without his flames to light them – at least some great, unavoidable beast had felled him, not political gain or the whims of their devious world. He had been <i>consumed</i> by the jaws of a fearsome beast, like her own mother; they are deaths that had wrenched away parts of her soul, but hadn’t been without cause. <i>Unless.</i> The word echoes in her mind like the tolling of a bell, as it has countless times since she discovered his death. <i>Unless it had been both beast and horse.</i>
She can’t and doesn’t suspect that the very same creature lies dormant within Lupei. The wall of flames that he summons sends her mind spinning (his living, whole face and his dead, shattered face take turns appearing in her head) but does not stop her legs. Talulah shakes the thoughts violently from her head, even as she is already trying to evacuate the fiery circle before it is complete. She closes in on the remaining open space and she thinks she will make it. But the stallion’s control over the blaze is too great. Her muzzle slips through just as the white-blue curtain hisses closed, singing the tip of her nose and immediately blistering. The grey’s hind-legs bunch under her with her forceful stop, each displaced particle of dirt hitting her belly its own kind of blessing; she shudders to think what might have happened if she hadn’t been able to in time.
But just as she thinks she is safe enough, the wall moves in even closer. Handcuffed in her motion and far too close to the crackling wall, Talulah back-steps until she has enough room to spin on her heels. Her gaze immediately locks on the mint and teal man, her amber gaze hard and scrutinizing. She understands his plan to draw her in and she is rather perturbed it is working out as he intends. So instead of making it even easier on the Chamberling, she keeps her backside as close to the wall behind her as is safe (not that any remote proximity to the wall is safe). Quickly, Lupei charges in response. It is an easy distance for him to close; she hopes it feels more like a vast, perilous desert with his injured shoulder.
He is on her in no time. She waits to move until he is there (why not conserve the energy?) and ducks to her right just as he swings in front of her to his own right. His hind legs raise in a flurry of movement, but she is already turned away too much to see it. She senses, rather than sees, that his blow is imminent. She feels, rather than avoids, the contrastingly sharp pain in her forearm brought about by dull hooves. She is fortunate. If she was any other horse, it might have crippled her to the death. But she is different; her body is different. The metal shield she wears as comfortably as another’s own skin falls in an ombre of density along her legs. His mark hits along her well-protected radius. Had it struck lower, she might be downed rather than wincing in pain with every step of her left foreleg.
Lupei shoots away after his attack. Talulah does much the same, picking up a canter that is impaired by her throbbing left forearm. They are heading in opposite directions around the bowl of fire like comets, destined to collide on the opposite side. Even with the fire-wielders’ expansion of the wall, it doesn’t take long for them to reach each other. The grey can feel the heat against her right side. Her eyes water from it, but she blinks the tears away as quickly as she can. Once again - if she has been successful in tracking Lupei – he is right in front of her. But this time, she is partially handicapped. When she leaps to her left further into the circle of fire, her leg screams with the effort. The metal-mare grits her teeth and leans into her front left leg, kicking out against Lupei’s right side. She hopes she has jumped far enough ahead to hit him further back. Perhaps she will crack a rib or two under skin that is less muscled along his barrel. If not, she might land a blow on his other shoulder or further down on his foreleg (let him see how <i>that</i> injury feels).
Talulah moves into the middle of the ring and goes invisible. She just needs a moment to collect herself, to steady her breathing. By the time he moves to find her, she has moved as well. The grey allows herself to become visible again only when she has found the fire’s edge. Hopefully it will distract and disorient him for a minute.
</p><p id="talname">t a l u l a h</p><p id="talquote">metal woman of the dale</p></div></div></center>