"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The invitations have been sent, the preparations have been made, his “autumn goddess” has been dressed and cleaned. He has been assertive in his plans, leaving not a single task unchecked on his list. Gleaming red apples lay bright and glistening on the branches of the deciduous fruit trees to the left. Several small streams run with clear cold crystal water to sate parched lips. They will need the substances to get through this festival. Although he can not control the weather, play with the light, or control the sound around them… He will let them decide their conditions. Their magic will run freely here, encouraged. For now the soft gentle chirping of crickets and the bubbling brook is the only music needed, soon to be drowned out by their merry-making.
They begin to arrive and he wait’s by the border with his beloved blue bird, gently caressing her neck as he greets them, ever the gracious host. There is a point when there are enough bodies assembled that he heads towards the caverns, leaving others to welcome the stragglers. This party will last for days anyways, they will all have a chance to experience the senses.
He heads to the cave where they had been keeping her. She lays crumpled against stone, her wings tightly bound in thin thorny branches thanks to Thana, wrapped like barbed wire. He had meticulously cleaned her, placing autumn blossoms and red and gold leaves throughout her raven locks and tail. Crowning her forehead with a bouquet of burnt orange mums wrapped with rosemary and sage. She is ready. He is ready.
Small circlets of thorns wrap around her hocks to keep her from escaping far. Making it painful for her to walk but she follows him willingly, knowing there is no point in fighting. Not now. He does not need to lead her by force, although he had thought of wrapping more vines about her neck. It’s better this way, to have them think she is a willing participant. As if she had volunteered for this great honor. The ghostly Bacchus walks to the center of the forest to greet his guests.
”Welcome!” His voice booms through the dimly lit forest, the golden foliage above him framing his wraith like figure. Red eyes scan them all, pleased with the turn out. ”Welcome to Sylva’s Annual Autumn Festival!” Some cheering and calls are expected and he waits patiently to continue. ”A feast for the senses, where all your wildest dreams can come true. Anything you desire…” And here he gestures to the mare behind him who wearily comes to stand by his side. His muzzle runs across a russet shoulder, inhaling her briny scent deeply before he finishes. ”Will be yours.”
Tantalize’s head is raised defiantly, her golden eyes focused past the crowd into the shadows beyond. Her lips are pressed firmly together, muscles clenched and taunt beneath her dappled hide. A big cat in captivity, caged for his amusement. She refuses to let her fear simmer to the surface, instead remaining stoic and silent. As indifferent as she can be as her heart frantically beats against her chest.
”The rules are… There are no rules.” Laughing wickedly as he searches the faces among them. ”Take what you want, eat as much as you wish, let your magic run wild. Experience the greatest of pleasures, even those you never thought were capable.” Weaving his story vividly so that fantastic images may play in their heads. His mouth gently finds a whip of ebony tendrils against her neck, lipping them lightly. ”And of course I must introduce our guest of honor. Our beautiful Autumn Queen.” He smiles with delight even as she quivers with apprehension. ”Our festival goddess to begin the ceremonies.” Mischief in his eyes, a slow spreading grin on his lips. ”Who will do the honors of beginning our festivities? Who will experience the pleasures of our Queen?” He asks the crowd, stepping back to allow anyone to come forward. To touch and taste her as much as they like.
She is completely still, dread crawling through her veins. A hunted look in the depths of gold as her pulse quickens, as her worst nightmare comes to light. His cruelty knew no ends, knowing exactly what would break her utterly and completely. There is no reason to look at him, to plead. He is her brother, she knows better than anyone that he does not care.
Gryffen
Welcome to Sylva’s Autumn "Festival". Decided to start early to give everyone more time to party =D
Here’s what you can expect: Debauchery, sex, gluttony, a true pleasure of the senses. ANYTHING GOES. No age limit for your characters, you can get as crazy as you want. It’s encouraged. Magic is expected to be used for good or bad so if you do not want magic used on your character please add a disclaimer on your posts. Same for anything like rape. You may post here in this thread or continue in private threads. Just remember… ANYTHING GOES. THE WILDER, THE BETTER. If you would like Gryffen to be involved in your party shenanigans, either tag him or PM me.
10-16-2017, 10:42 PM (This post was last modified: 10-16-2017, 11:04 PM by Minerva.)
Oh the announcement of Gryffen's party was simply all the rage. Minerva had heard from a passerby who greeted everyone they met and informed them of the date. The dark green and white mare knew she would attend to see what this party held in store.
Long legs move her over the path to Sylva, the trees whispered the way, pointing their long limbs so she did not get lost. Oh her precious babies and how she adored the flora along the way. The mare conjures a few autumn colored maple leaves to weave into her dark green mane, a bright yellow squash flower tucking itself just beside her right ear.
Sylva is much prettier than she expected. The woman was sure she would have to spread some red and gold colors here and there to put Sylva in a more festive mood but the land was pretty enough already. Her dark green eyes slip over to the shape of a creamy skin man with ruby eyes. A woman stands at his side, quiet and downcast. Minerva moves toward the crowd but does not pick up on the words before the stallion at the center of it all has stepped aside. She remains quiet as she calls to the harvest apples, pumpkins, ripe corn. She calls to the produce and piles it in a great heap behind the gathering.
Squash, apricots, spinach.
It is not hard for her to provide and it was the least she can do. The little crab apples roll between horses hooves, the lettuce 'walks', indian corn of all colors are a sweet delicacy. Minerva smiles at the buffet of food for their consumption. She wonders if she could find some of the fermented apples that were sure to liven up the party more...
She next gathers leaves of all colors. Fiery orange, ruby red, chocolate browns and urges them to weave themselves in a circle. She wills sunflowers and black eyed susans to grow and walk to the formed flower crowns and to weave themselves together. A smirk touches the edges of her lips as dozens form effortlessly near the fresh food. Mini (so the boys don't feel left out) constructs masks with leaves, a bit of sap, and twigs for structure. A bit of sweat collects on her brow with her concentration but after a bit, she is satisfied with ehr offerings to the crowd and the festival. Let this be an uninhibited masked party!
Forced to leave Nerine, where she had hoped to reunite with those of her past, Ouija had promised a gathering that was sure to attract more of her long lost Amazon family. Curiousity fueled her need to know more for the stallion offered little details. Trotting along they had just broke across Sylva borders when she hears a call. Naive, she giggled happily, "Ohhh! A party! I love parties!" Her trot extended to quickly bring them to the festivities.
Cobalt eyes glance about at those gathered. An alabaster stallion stood front and center with a companion on each side. One was definitely by choice and the other seemed off. The unique marking peak her interest and she ponders where she has seen them before. The Amazons! She thinks excitedly. Ouija had not been lying as she had suspected.
Next she notices an earthly colored mare gathering the feast. She jiggs happily in place. Having missed most of the announcement she knew not what she was getting into. After the mare has gathered veggies and fruits of all kinds she begins to fashion party favors, "Oooh can I have a mask too?!" A masquerade ball, how fun she thinks. Happily accepting the gift the mare has created. She smiles happily as she looks to Ouija, "Here. You need a mask too!" His is dark and rather fitting for himself while hers glitters in gold's, fitting for her.
The canopy of the trees are brightly lit in oranges and reds, yellows and gold's. Her brow furrows. Though beautiful this was not the mood lighting for a ball. So she gathers the shadows from under the trees and cast them upwards. Painting the canopy a brilliant indigo of twilight. But they needed some light so with specks of daylight she adds tiny, glittering bulbs into the makeshift twilight canopy. They sparkle just as the stars do in the evening sky. She giggles joyfully as she looks to Ouija who grins in delight at her powers.
Her thoughts over the leopard spotted mare had not subsided so she looks over to where she stood. The thorns that bound her were almost unseen now in the darkness. Cobalt eyes meeting the panicked gold of hers. Strange, she thinks. Who doesn't love parties...?
They are getting into the spirit of things. One mare, almost as green as that of the water walking Hyaline wolf, has taken the party to the next level. She brings with her a bounty of food. A plethora of vegetables: Gourds, corn, anything that reminds one of the season and it is there. She doesn’t stop, weaving enticing masks and crowns of flowers with her magic. He grins with the spirit of the feast, finding a fermented apple and devouring it, weaving his way by her to place a lingering kiss to the hollow of her cheek. A glimmer of mischief in the depths of red. He does not claim a mask himself, he does not need one. Not when his own magic can hide his identity so much better.
The wraith maneuvers through the crowd with ease, finding himself brushing against a shoulder, teeth raking against a throbbing neck, nipping lightly at the flesh of an offered hip. Someone else has casted their magic to illuminate the canopy above into an enchanting twilight sky with twinkling lights. Now it’s a party.
Nobody has yet to approach his Autumn Queen. He finds his smoldering eye keeps flicking towards her with anticipation but so far she stands alone. A frown begins to tug at his lips. That won’t do at all.
Slipping behind a wide trunk of oak, he casts his own powers deep into the heart of the jaguar mare. She won’t feel it, slipping in like the cautious thief he is, prying the delicate kernel of her desire and taking it as his own. And when her secret heart is opened to him, how his eyes widen with delight and how he laughs and laughs as his shimmering ghostly body fades and a brawny dark stallion takes his place. Dark as night, the crimson of his eyes remaining the same.
Now dear sister, when had this happened? When had his disgraced sibling been introduced to the “Overseer” of Tephra? What had the humorless stallion done to weasel his way into her heart? He looks at his reflection within a nearby pool of water, a smirk on his dark lips. ”Daddy issues much?” He mutters to himself, snorting with amusement at his own joke.
It is Offspring that begins to part the crowd towards her, Offspring that calls to her softly. ”Tantalize.” He plays true to his role, blazing fire in his eyes and his broody vibes rolling off him in waves. Disappointment in the flames. ”I expected better from you.”
Word travels fast around Beqanna. It doesn't take long for the whispering of Gryffen's party to hit her ears, and spark some sort of interest in her. She had heard of the wraith before, heard of his devious plans and how he managed to destroy Taiga, but hadn't had much interest in him until he raided the autumnal forests of Sylva.
"Invitation only" is how he had put it, and any trespassers were subject to capture, torture, blah blah blah. So, she waited for her chance to approach this stallion's home and see what all the fuss was about.
And that's how she ended up here tonight, among the plethora of food, sex, and fun. A look to her left relieved a mare nearly gorging herself on gourds, corn, apples, and other treats. Another mare looked wide-eyed and happy, trotting around like a kid in a candy shop. Krone scoffs - there is only one here she is looking for.
She spots those red orbs from afar, and a grin stretches across her lips. He isn't paying much attention, his gaze locked on a russet Amazon mare (the festival's "Autumn Queen" as he puts it), who acts defiant despite her captivity. She cocks her head quizzically to one side, then decides today of all days is the perfect chance to indulge in her sadistic pleasures.
She approaches the pair, head held high, emerald wings pressed to her side, while the others tend to steer clear, hazel eyes gazing at the beautiful jaguar mare. She glances over to Gryffen.
"May I step in?" She asks, her voice smooth and diplomatic, anxiously awaiting a reply.
On the day you finally see that the way you treated me
Was a far cry from love
The moment the brooding blackness of Offspring appears, the shadows finally seem to spread and part from their foggy graves. Gryffen ignores them for now, focused on his target. However she is unaware of her brother’s new “abilities” so when he, the one that had begun to put her heart on the mend (had cleansed her soul from the dirt and grime of the one before), appears before her… There is no reason to doubt his authenticity. He is too far away to feel the lack of heat, to realize she has been tricked and that her brother had become even more dangerous.
”Offspring” She breathes, her feathery wings straining against the thorns they are bound within, pinching and bleeding before him. Golden eyes wide as her jaw tightens with frustration, searching his red eyes for the flicker of fire she had grown to long for. Instead it’s an angry burn that meets her gilded gaze, making her heart flip and drop deep within her stomach. ”A sad story to what… Make me fall for you? Now look at you… Offering yourself freely to anyone at this shitshow?” Disdain spit between his clenched teeth, disgust smoldering in the red embers of his iris’s. ”How can you…” She starts, trying to show him the means of her captivity, that she was a prisoner and not a willing accomplice. He cuts her off, shaking his head and taking a step away from her.
”If this is what you want… Then you shall have it.” Taking another step back, two more come forward to take his place. To the female he simply answers with a quiet ”She’s all yours”. The male, with chaos raging in the endless abyss of it’s sockets, needs no encouragements, already stepping forward. She screams his name but “Offspring” had disappeared. Gryffen, back to his normal self, watches from behind the trees.
”OFFSPRING!” She cries again, unable to keep the tremble of despair from her usually steadfast voice. But he is gone. Curved lobes pin tightly to her skull as the brindle stallion creeps closer. Unable to tear her gaze from his even as the confusion dances across her features. Squirrels? Before she can give him a piece of her mind, her brain quiets as her blood runs cold. For a squirrel is now hanging in thin air before her, screaming and terrified.
Her heart instantly begins to ache, as she looks from rodent to stallion. ”Please… Don’t.” She whispers, already knowing it’s too late. As the pebble and stick come to join the squirrel, begins to file itself down. ”Why are you doing this?” She hisses, anger and dread mixing together into a sickly mess within her. Then suddenly the sharp point is in the squirrel and she turns her head away, tears stinging her closed eyelids as she winces against the curdling screams she can’t block out. ”STOP!” She screams again and the squirrel falls quiet. Still she doesn’t look. Not until he asks her, Shall I undress you?
There’s a sudden explosion of meat and blood, crimson droplets spraying across her chest. And then she is upside down, in a position she could never have dreamed of. She tries to fight, to put herself right side up, and only manages to cause herself more pain against her thorny bonds. From the shadows, Gryffen reappears but still keeps his distance. Fascinated by the strangers powers, wanting nothing more then to uncover their source.
The stick prods into her side and she squirms, feeling the blood rush to her head. The whites of her eyes exposed, heart in her throat, silent…Suddenly flipped back to the way she should be. Disoriented… Until he begins to carve her apart like a jack o lantern. At first she tries to not give him the satisfaction of the pain but she can only keep silent for so long. Tearing at her flesh, ripping a part of her skin from her back, her screams muffled and drown out by the sounds of the drunk and disorderly. Still someone must hear for the pain is extreme and once he pries away her flesh, his trophy, she is left panting and shaking, bleeding and stinging, alone where she had started from. Gryffen had disappeared after the gruesome display, probably to discover more of this disturbed guest, leaving her with only Krone. A few angry tears find their way down her cheeks but she is still defiant and her neck snakes out, teeth snapping and lashing out at her in warning. She would not go down without a fight.
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
He does not know why he has come, but he cannot stay away.
It is a sickening knot, twisting and tying itself tightly within the pit of his stomach, sullen and heavy – a heaviness he cannot shake, nor can he ignore. His heart, usually a steady, thrumming rhythm, is laden with adrenaline, surging within the unexplained tightness of his chest. His blood is churning through his veins, while his mind is moving as swiftly, wondering what might await him beyond a border he had yet to cross. He had never felt drawn to it; he knew of the Queen that had once reigned over it and she had been as indifferent about him as he inevitably had become about her. She stayed where she was meant to stay, and he did the same – there was an unspoken tranquility shared between he and the northern, gold-laced kingdom – but no more.
No more – it was shattered by the war-born beat of a different drum; by that of a wicked and senseless soul he had known from the cadence of his first sentence that he was not to be trusted. Taiga had fallen, swallowed whole by magma and by the sea, wrought by the chaos that the pale wraith seemed to pull along with him. He had no desire to be close to such havoc and disorder – he yearned for the quiet serenity of the ravenous ocean lapping hungrily at the sandy shoreline; for the rumbling volcano with its thick and heavy plumes of low-lying smoke, drifting beyond the horizon and staining it with its darkness.
Age had begun to settle into his weary bones, and he was growing tired – tired of diplomacy, weary of political issues, and worn thin of stepping lightly over the too easily battered and bruised egos of others. His immortality had escaped him – he can feel the tendons tethering his tired bones together growing weary and worn with time, and he could see the deep lines around his otherwise dark and brooding stare within the reflection of the water as he trudged on through evenfall. He could feel his age, and with it, he can feel his temperament slipping.
His patience has worn thin.
The woodland is so dense, and so dark, he has hardly noticed the arrival of morning until a stray ray of sunlight gleams through to bathe the darkness of his flesh in its light. It is fleeting, and the low-lying fog of the thicket soon envelopes him, drawing him deeper into the forest and beyond the eastern border. He can sense the stench of sex, of violence and the telltale metallic blood that came with such a sordid exchange – he expected nothing less, but still, the thickness of dread within his throat cannot be ignored.
There is a rumble of conversation, far off into the distance, and so he does follow it. Quietly, carefully, his behemoth form pushes through the dense shrubbery and past the tall, towering hickory and pine, while his weight crushes the drying leaves and pine needles beneath each deliberate step. He is wary, with a flicker of flame trailing down the length of his spine. He is all too aware of what has been promised – armistice, peace, but he is not so foolish as to believe that Gryffen is capable of either.
Soon, his dark, crimson gaze is peering through a crowd – seeing teeth, tongue and fervent bodies writhing against one another, while the nauseating odor of copulation and carnage combine. He cannot hide his disdain; he had never cared to be on display and lacks the capability to see the allure in it. He presses past, while slick and dampened bodies brush against his own – he flinches, only slightly, to maintain his distance, drawn in deeper by a soft echo – a cry, a desperate, pleading cry that unnerves him to the very bone, and causes his tightened, terse stomach to drop.
Tantalize, tied and bound, covered in a sheen of her own sweat and blood – trickling along the darkness of her skin, stained a sordid red, darker than the flashing ember of his burning stare.
Rage fills the empty hearth of his chest, pooling within the tender marrow of his bones and the tension of his coiled muscles – the lick of fire across his spine erupts, emerging across the surface of his marred, dark flesh and branching out into thick, wavering flames, white hot and blistering with a crackling ferocity. Crawling down the length of his strong, heavily muscled legs, the flame clutches tightly to the dried brush beneath his weight, traveling rapidly across the leaves, the broken branches and brittle bark lining the woodland soil. Effortlessly, the inferno snakes its way through the dense copse of maple and birch as if a thick stream of kerosene had been poured recklessly in endless rivulets, before climbing the dehydrated, hibernating wood, lighting up the timberland one by one.
”Get away from her!” He snarls, his scarlet stare boring into that of Krone, while the emblazoning fire envelopes around Tantalize, shielding her from the rousing tension of watchful eyes, deliberately plucking at the dried vines and flora binding her. ”Tantalize, what has he done?” he breathes, his gaze roving over her trembling body, freed at last from its binding, but he does not settle, nor does he reach to her – not yet – his gaze is searching through the darkness of the woodland, seeking the heat signature of the one that had bound her, of the one who had offered her for sexual gratification, for torture, for death.
”GRYFFEN!” he bellows, fire streaming from his pores and gripping the fertile earth again, flooding toward the pale wraith that had spilled lie upon lie to him upon the shore of Tephra so long ago – ”Where are you going? The party is just getting started!”
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
@[Nayl] - dunno if you still want to jump in; I imagine this takes place after their little "run-in"
@[Gryffen] @[Tantalize] @[Krone]
On the day you finally see that the way you treated me
Was a far cry from love
Gryffen is still not pleased. None have taken advantage of her the way he wished. Nobody has reopened the healing wound. If they won't, he will. Slowly he advances on the jaguar mare who lashes out at him and cries out with the self inflicted pain. He pushes against her, ignoring the sharpness of her teeth against him. Laughing in response as his arousal becomes evident. He raped his mother... Raping his sister would be a walk in the park compared to that. Slowly he moves behind her even as she tries to fight against her bonds once more, panting against the pain and her panic. His muzzle caresses the curve of her hindquarters, slipping towards her sensitive spots even as her tail clamps firmly against her backend. Tasting her as she cries out and tries to move away.
The forest seems to darken before the air becomes acidic. She's alone, he has melted away, and she slowly raises her head.
Something has changed. The air becomes clouded with smoke that burns her lungs and stings her nostrils. Golden eyes narrow, trying to see through the sudden haze. Flames begin to rapidly accelerate towards her followed by a cry of outrage. Instantly she knows. He has come back for her. There is a mixture in her belly, anger for betraying her in her time of need (thinking she was nothing but a common whore) fighting against the sweet relief of him coming back in the nick of time.
She does not shy away from the fire that eats at her bonds despite the way it singes her fur, she is already on an adrenaline high. Already fighting the pain and panic caused by Gryffen’s special guest. As the thorns fall away from her aching and bleeding wings, unfurling awkwardly at her sides as she stumbles forward, looking for a way out of his protective circle. His fire is spreading, eating at the dry woods and curled autumn leaves. Spreading just like his rage.
He is angry. Not at her, for her. In the circle, he is there at her side. He does not reach for her, instead he is focused on someone else. Her brother. The flames keep her from touching him but she tries to draw his attention back to her. ”Leave him.” She snarls softly, wanting nothing more then to leave this forest and collect her thoughts. To sort through the intense feelings of what has happened and to deal with Gryffen when they are not at a disadvantage. Soot and ash make her choke, feeling nauseous and remembering that it is not only her life she must care for. ”We need to go.” She yells over the crackling heat, unable to fly and needing him to give them a path to freedom and fresh air.
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
She is the voice is reason –
When he cannot swallow his rage, when he cannot rein in the ferocity of the inferno emblazoning from his chest, she reaches beneath the blistering surface of his mind, roiling with wrath, with ire and seething anger, quieting the flame. He is fire, covered end to end with a crackling, roiling firestorm, but it has already begun to falter, drawn back into his burning core by sheer will at her urging. He is so consumed by his fury that her words are soft murmurings, an echo of sound that barely reaches beyond the boundary of the blaze. Her voice is enough to soothe him into drawing back, into finally tearing his gaze away from the pale creature – and soon, fleshless bone structure – that had bound her, that had put her on such sordid display, yearning for sin and for torment.
Instead, his gaze is searching hers – seeing the anguish, the bewilderment, the seething ire of her own frustration beneath the warmth of her amber gaze. The fire is soon nothing more than an ember, glowing along the ridge of his sloping spine, with little else but the unusual heat of his skin and the emblazoning fire ravenously consuming the forest to tell of the inferno that had burned from within.
His gaze does trace the soft dappling of her skin, the drying blood intermingling with russet fur, the sweat-slickened tangling of her mane across the curve of her neck – but it is fleeting; the ash is dusting the slope of her spine, draping over her tresses and clinging to her cheek as her eyes look imploringly into his own and there is no time to wait.
The smoke is heavy, cloaking even his own lungs in filth and ash, and so his broad cheek brushes across her shoulder, nudging her toward the southern border, where the sea of bristling, burning fire does part, end to end. It carves a path away from the darkness of the woodland, away from the sinful and insidious purpose that had brought her to a fate no one deserved to be given.
”Come,” he breathes across her cheek, leading her through the heavy smoke, ash and fire, away from Sylva, away from the purgatory that the pulse to his beating heart had nearly succumbed to.
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
A great party – a gathering – Ardashir had mentioned, but Nayl paid no mind. She mistrusted the idea of it and hesitated to even consider a venture. What others perceived as a great festival, the Iron Queen imagined a great imprisonment of nations.
No, she wouldn’t fall for such a trap.
So, she bided her time until the events would slowly roll into a lull. Nothing has reached her ears of tumultuous events, no violence or danger. Perhaps, it never came to fruition.
The trek to Sylva is long, but there had been no sense of urgency until Nayl drew in a breath closer to the wooded kingdom. It’s unconvincing at first when she notes subtle hints of Isobell and Tantalize. Another greedy lungful of air is drawn in, but their scents are still there and latch desperately to the soft pink lining of her nostrils. They are reason enough for her to gain momentum and to reach Sylva far sooner than she had intended.
What she’s met with, however, is far worse than she ever anticipated.
Flames lick the canopy and smoke billows through the small gaps to spread across the sky above. It’s daylight and yet the inferno blacks out the sun and turns Sylva to night. That isn’t enough to deter her. She pushes on, but takes pause only when Tantalize – weakened and stumbling, pressing to her lover in support – steps from the gloom with Offpsring at her side. Anger churns in her gut, but it isn’t at them. No, it’s at the wound on Tantalize’s back, the way she coughs and struggles to escape the burning kingdom, the way she inaudibly screams that she was held captive. Weeks had passed in which Nayl wondered where the mare was, but this gives her answer. ”What… the fuck,” she begins to say before her eyes find the burning crimson of Offspring’s. There is no need to speak, to tell him to rescue her from this place, because she can see that is already his primary mission.
Nayl doesn’t turn to join them. Her anger is surfacing, her eyes hooded. Underneath their feet, snake-like tendrils writhe and slither. Rage and adrenaline are her power sources as the magic seeps from her body into something far larger and stronger. The ground trembles and comes to life for a moment then silence. No one is certain how long the eerie quiet lasts; it’s an eternity filled with an undying anticipation.
Then the earth cracks and roars, splitting at the seams with vengeance. No one - no one - will ever again harness one of the sisterhood and think lightly of it. Never will their strength be doubted again.
What breaks from the earth is a creature never before seen by those in Beqanna. Its roar trembles their bones and its footsteps are earthquakes underneath them, its body comprised of boulders and granite. It climbs from the chasm in the earth that split, its fists slamming down to quake the surrounding trees. Nayl allows tendrils of life to leak into this monster of rock. It rises to its feet and towers just shy of the trees heights surrounding them. It’s unfazed by the black smoke still billowing and the flames eating away the trees. It swings, stomps, kicks, roars. Hands reach for the trees and rocks, ripping them from the ground and hurling them toward the masses of horses scattered below. It doesn’t stop, fed by the fury that pulses through Nayl’s veins. The rock behemoth, spurred to life by the Nerinian Queen, brings more destruction to this quaint forest, complementing what has already burned by Offspring’s inferno.
Together, the rulers of Tephra and Nerine conclude the barbaric festival and wreak havoc on the wraith’s home, taking back what is theirs.
When Nayl eventually takes her leave, the mayhem is a smoky blur behind her. A final roar emits from the maw of the granite monster before it crumbles into a pile of lifeless boulders, no longer fueled by its master. A smug grin tugs at the corners of her mouth before Nayl melts into the dark clouds of smoke and returns home to Nerine, glancing back only once to see if Isobell will follow or depart elsewhere.
queen of nerine daughter of covet & myrina
Feel free to have your ponies injured by Offy and/or Nayl, or not. Totally up to ya'll They decided to completely destroy part of Sylva out of anger and so they can rescue Tantalize
They decided to completely destroy part of Sylva out of anger and so they can rescue Tantalize 