• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    I love the way that your heart breaks... {G'ren, any}
    #1

    I love the way that your heart breaks
    with every injustice and deadly fate.

    It has been ages since he had seen her. She had gone, and he had paid little heed. She would return. She always did.

    Except then she didn't.

    Normally, he would have simply moved on, forgotten she existed. But she had been one of his favorites. With her willingness to learn and her aptitude for pain, she has intrigued him. It is true, little could hold his attention for long. But he had always returned to her. Perhaps not for weeks at a time, but inevitably, he would return.

    But then she is gone, and he finds himself wondering why. So, he follows her.

    His life is filled with leisure, his whims the only thing directing his activities, so there is nothing to stop him from doing so. At worst, he would have wasted a few days. At best, he would find new and fascinating ways to entertain himself.

    Before long, he finds himself in the Tundra.

    The massive wall looms before him, casting a shadow over his massive, scarred frame. His bland gray eyes scan the horrendous thing, wondering what would possess anyone to erect such a useless, icy artifact.

    Why G’ren would choose such a place to come to, he cannot fathom. But then, he is a beast born of fire. A monster, really, with his hideously misshapen frame entirely barren of hair and blackened skin turned char.
    As he passes through the narrow opening, a shiver passes down his spine. Apparently, even he is not immune to the weather. With only a thought, flames hiss across his skin, caressing his body, encasing him in delicious heat. The frost beneath his feet sizzles, melting as it gives way to fire.

    As he continues, he does nothing to hide his presence. He doubts he will be alone long. But that concerns him little. He has come for only one thing.

    ”G’ren.” Her name rumbles from his chest in a loud, commanding time, his voice hoarse and scratchy from injury and disuse. No doubt she would not be the only one to hear.

    Never once, however, does he doubt she will come.

    Raelynx

    khaos x eyrie

    html c insane | picture c naelii.deviantart.com


    @[G'ren]

    So feel free to join in. Mostly he's here to cause drama lol
    #2
    @[Raelynx] Haha I could tell from the post lol. She's going to cause it, obviously.

    I am the dark and I am the light

     I had adapted for the cold - my coat had kept it's healthy sheen but grown long and shaggy, ears no longer bit by the frost. I had forgotten my previous life, and would often wander by the cave, peering into it's depths but never going in more than with my nose. The foreboding feeling kept me out, but ever so barely did it do so.

     Today, today I had placed my whole head and a hoof inside and was stepping in a bit more when I heard a male voice - scratchy and commanding. I shivered and backed out, looking behind me, thinking it was Offspring or Brynmor "yelling" at me for my curiousity. I didn't see anybody, so I wandered along the edge towards the entrance into the Tundra's borders.

    it had been a while, but eventually I caught, at the very corner of my eye, a equine figure, black and mutilated. My breath caught as I realized that, apparently, this was not the secretive hideaway I had hoped for - my past had still come for me yet again.

     Raelnyx.. Hello. Bit of a surprise, aren't you. I speak out, calmly, lightly, yet also monotonically. I hadn't even bothered to make a question of my last sentence in my reply. How sad of me, had I grown so indifferent, so cold just like the ice walls around us? I didn't bother asking. But I knew the answer, and it was yes.

     I slowly, gracefully, walked over to the mutilated, greying stallion - we had both grown older, indeed. Can't you see, this is home to me now? I query, eyes indifferent and emotionless. His influence on me had come out within these montone, icy walls, it had indeed. But then my dam's dominance and determination had left its mark on my persona as well.

    G'REN

    I am the moon, I am the starless sky

    #3
    Brynmor

    "With my speechless calm eyes."

    She was a strange case indeed. However, that didn’t mean they hadn’t welcomed her into the Tundra. And neither that they wouldn’t protect her when she found herself in trouble. Brynmor liked the companionship of the Tundra’s women - G'ren included-, although he had learned his lesson when it came to children. Henson wasn’t a mistake, not at all, but he wouldn’t be able to betray Roan is such a way again. Yet, there would be plenty of other males in the Tundra that would give her a child, if she wanted to.

    He didn’t know who the father of her children was, neither had he really seen any of them around in the Tundra, but her swollen stomach had been enough to tell them. It was her own business and it wasn’t Brynmor’s task to pry if she didn’t give him a reason to. However, this might be it.

    The graying male watches the stranger pass through the gate, flames licking his skin and melting the snow underneath his hooves. He’s a scarred creature, like he had been burnt alive, tortured in some kind of way, but he does no longer seem to be bothered by the flames that dance across his skin. He’s different from Killdare, the magma king of the Chamber, but in some ways they are alike. Such as in how they totally stand out in the Tundra and don’t match with the snow covered lands.

    Throwing away his cloak of invisibility he moves forward, revealing his presence. As the formerly blind male moves forward he eyes the stranger and you could say he was careful. Brynmor didn’t like strangers in the lands, just crossing the border (like the big ice wall wasn’t a big enough sign) and walking in without calling out for them.

    His muzzle brushes past her shoulder briefly, acknowledging that he was there to stand by her side, but his eyes never leave the stranger. ”And a home she wishes to be at, because she’s free to leave if she truly desires it. Something that would sadden me” he joins in, only having heard her last words. Tilting his head a bit to the side Brynmor let his eyes move over the flamy creature from close by. ”What has brought you to the Tundra, if I may ask?”

    "Nothing is coming to rise."

    #4
    Just an FYI, I deleted my previous ooc posts just to clean it up a bit.

    I love the way that your heart breaks
    with every injustice and deadly fate.

    It is true he had been tortured in the most terrible and gruesome of ways. But he wears that torment upon his skin like a hideous trophy, something to be proud of. For he is. Proud of it, that is. He had been taken, bent and corrupted by the greatest of gods. He wears his mark as a badge of honor upon the very center of his charred forehead. His cracked lips will always pull into a macabre smile at the memory of that time. It is a time any other might remember with horror, but one he recalls only with fondness.

    And, in turn, he passes that gift along. He is always open and free in regards to his intentions. None could ever say they have been deceived by him. He is not clever enough to deceive. No, all who had entered into his care has done so willingly. Or, at the very least, knowingly.

    She not the least of them.

    She comes of course. He had known she would. His bland gray eyes fix upon her the moment she comes within sight, his rounded ears pricking forward as his nostrils flare to draw in her familiar scent. A scent now tinged with ice and snow and strange male. Even as she greets him, expressing her surprise, stating her purpose, her intentions, he remains silent. There is nothing he need say to that. She would go with him. She always has.

    Stepping forward, he circles her, ignoring the other male as he approaches. Brynmor moves in next to her, expressing his – and the Tundra’s – solidarity. Raelynx moves next to her then, opposite the stranger. His muzzle caresses her hip, her back and withers, a delicate touch tinged by flame. The scars (the ones he had given her) give him grim satisfaction, reminding him, and her, of who he is to her.

    He presses close as he lifts his head, turning his fire-rimmed gray gaze to meet that of the other stallion. ”I have what I came for,” he rumbles, speaking to him over G’ren’s back even as he runs his fiery muzzle along her neck, wondering if she has learned to flinch yet. His possession is unmistakable, the claim he has made upon this mare undeniable. Her scars bear proof of that all too well.

    Raelynx

    khaos x eyrie

    html c insane | picture c naelii.deviantart.com
    #5
    The feelings I once had had for other stallions had been gone, and now I - who once was extremely emotional - now feels little. I surprised myself by actually feeling surprised by his new presence. I rumbled quietly in memory at his fiery touch - quivered happily as the flames left new marks near the oldest ones.

    I remembered the first lessons - the first touches had been painful. But now they are not. Warmth seeps through my chilled, icy body - my time in the Tundra, too, had left it's mark on me. My body had grown hardier, yet was weak. The cold no longer froze my joints, and I no longer suffered stocked-up fluids in my knees or hocks.

    Yet here you are again. You see.. This has become my home now. I say blandly, watching his eyes. I watched him closely, sensing his movements just before he made them, predicting his future moves, actions, words.

    He obviously had possession over me, but would it be strong enough to pull me with him? I did not believe so. And I walked out from between them, just as he singed the top of my neck woth his muzzle, in a show of individual-ness. As a show of self respect, of the cold the Tundra itself placed within me.

    I would have surprised him, if he had the feeling left to do so. I looked back at Brynmor. I prefer this new home. I enjoy the Cove, as well. Yet, this is my home now. I shall return when I desire. I say strongly, but blandly. I was proud of myself. I stood up for myself the best way - through words. But I had also stayed simple.

    That was when I suddenly felt a kick and looked at my swelled belly - my foal was alive! I felt a sharp pain and realized what is happening.. I was going into labor.

    I shall be back. I say nervously before quickly waddling off to where I knew would be a safe place to foal - a dark corner sheltered from the cold and wind. I stopped thinking as the pains hit. I focused only on instincts. Eventually, my mind cleared and I focused on the foal.
    @[Brynmor] @[Raelnyx]
    Holding Out on Grades
    #6
    Brynmor

    "With my speechless calm eyes."

    He understood, in some sort of strange and gruesome way. He knew he shouldn’t, but how was the scar on his chest different? The wolf paw was big and the black lines stood out against his still graying coat. Once his coat would’ve turned completely grayed out, the lines would be clearly visible. Just like Offspring’s white scar underneath his eye. Brynmor too carried the mark with great pride, but his initiation was a completely different thing than this stranger’s encounter with a creature that had proclaimed himself a god.

    But unlike the scarred creature in front of him, Brynmor didn’t land a hand on other horses. On the contrary, his touches were gentle most of the time, even when he was angry. The sole exception would be when he would have to protect himself, the Tundra or any of the Tundra’s habitants. And that included G’ren Fire. If he had to, he would launch himself at this stranger who had so boldly walked into their lands to claim her his, while he really didn’t have the right.

    He had already wondered how she had ended up in this state. Looking so defiant and scarred all the same. She was different from Roan, who’s coat was marred with scars too, much less timid and able to clearly voice out her thoughts. Home. And that home was the Tundra, not this ‘cove’ where this stranger lived. Just when Brynmor was about to push himself in between them – with force if he had to – G’ren did him already the favour of moving away. Without thinking twice the gray warrior and counsellor put himself in front of her, blocking the stranger. His blue eyes met the gray ones and his head dips lower as his ears push further against his skull. ”You’re not welcome here” he states, pawing the ground to make clear he meant it. ”I have to ask you to leave.”

    When she speaks again he turns his head a little to the side, to look at her out of the corner of his eye. He offers her a smile, a dip of the head, but his attention is focussed on the scarred, burned creature in front of him. ”You hear her, she chooses the Tundra over your home. There is nothing here for you to gain, so leave.” He snorts, shaking his head slightly. He wasn’t much of a warrior, but he would take that role if that was what needed to be done.

    As she walks away he makes sure that he’s still in between them, preventing the stranger from waddling further into their territory. And keen on keeping G’ren save.

    "Nothing is coming to rise."




    @Saphira: Please don't tag me again, I find those messages annoying.. I keep track of my threads and feel free to PM my OOC account when it takes me a while to reply, but I hate to switch accounts because of those annoying messages XD
    #7
    She preened over the foal, over it. She adored this new life, born in her home. She loved the Cove, too, but was better suited to live in the Tundra now. She loved the Tundra most now.

    Sure, she has scars, and some mean more than others, and the new burns were already numbed and froze by the fall cold. She looked around at the ice with love, as the foal started to stir. It whickered quietly, trying to get on it's feet to come nurse. G'ren nuzzled it, dried it's small form lovingly, washed her scent over it.
    Holding Out on Grades
    #8

    I love the way that your heart breaks
    with every injustice and deadly fate.

    He has never known anger or frustration. Indeed, he has truly known very few emotions except when he is giving or receiving pain. What he feels now can hardly be called either. It is little more than one might feel when bitten by a stinging fly (that is, if a fly to could come close enough to bite without suffering the repercussions of his flame), but even that much is surprising for the charred stallion.

    G’ren Fire moves away from him, unflinching as ever, and Brynmor swiftly moves between them, challenging him in a way few have dared to do so in ages. A small thrill runs through him at the prospect, memories of a lovely silver mare, of a stallion black as midnight with cruelty stamped into his eternally youthful features, tumbling through his mind. He can feel each burn pulse and throb, the brand upon his forehead tingling as his body trembles with remembered electricity and fire.

    It has been so long. Far too long since anyone has offered him pain. He misses it, aches for it. He is an addict, not of drugs but of pain.

    A grin slowly curls his cracked lips, parting across yellowing teeth and bringing a hellish delight to his scarred features. This stallion had just inadvertently placed everything he craves right at the tips of his hooves.

    With a low chuckle, he moves forward, making to brush past the graying stallion. The flames lick his skin with delicious, singeing heat. Should the other stallion refuse to move, he would feel the delight (or suffering, as most others seem to view it) of his fire. As he moves forward, his eyes fix upon G’ren Fire, a wicked, terrible light fueled by the thrill of anticipation coloring his normal bland gray gaze, and he speaks to her in a low voice. The promise in his voice is unmistakable. ”You may stay, but the child comes with me.”

    It is his child, after all.

    Raelynx

    khaos x eyrie

    html c insane | picture c naelii.deviantart.com


    Uh, yeah, he's an ass :| My apologies for his jerkish ways
    #9

    THE EARTH IS ALIVE, AND MAN IS A PARASITE.
    AND HEAVENLY BODIES MAKE US FIGHT.

       He has watched from afar; deep-set crimson eyes searing into the crooked figure looming so near to his right-hand and a female he had taken beneath his proverbial wing. He has always held Brynmor in high regard, and as such, he trusts him to be able to handle himself - yet, something causes him to linger now. An icy breeze slides along his scarred pelt as he shifts uneasily, and the tension - even from afar - is palpable. Something is stirring between the two males; something troublesome that urges him from the plateau he had been standing on. His thick muscles ripple and roll beneath his obsidian flesh, which begins to encase in a thin layer of frost as he strides forward towards the four.

       As he nears, his senses become acutely aware of the lingering scent of coal and burnt embers that lay rancid in the suddenly too still air and he sneers as he sees the intruder issue another threat. He is towering; a mass of muscle and bone - stark against the dulled landscape that lay behind him, but his pounding heart floods with a fury all its own and soon, he too becomes ice. His disheveled tendrils of hair become entangled with thick flakes of snow, and his once menacing gaze sets ablaze - a bright, burning blue as fury and ice begin to overtake the ice King. 

       His nostrils flair as he slams a single hoof into the icy permafrost, sending a shock-wave through the solidified ground. A thick blanket of ice twists and turns, crawling rapidly across the terrain as it weaves between Raelynx and G'ren Fire and her young child; it climbs and grows thickly and quickly between them while arching around them. Above them, the sky begins to rumble and stir with the depths of a brewing storm, and soon a gentle hail sets about them, a looming threat of danger that stretches far beyond first impressions.

       "I care not for why you are here, but your tiring fire tricks will not bode well here. You will not be taking either with you," He gazes to the icy barrier that now lay between Raelynx and intended victims. "she is protected within the Brotherhood as long as she wishes to stay. You have overstayed your welcome. Go. Leave, now."



    OFFSPRING

    the ice king of the tundra


    Sorry this isn't better; wanted to get him thrown in here.  Heart
    #10
    With my speechless calm eyes,
    nothing is coming to rise.

    He isn’t entirely sure he was being brave or stupid – or maybe both? – but there simply was no way that Brynmor would back down now. Not when a stranger invaded their lands and laid a claim upon one of their mares. Because yes, G’ren Fire belonged to the Tundra, by her own choice. And the graying stallion had vowed to fight for his home and to protect it, in both the political as the warrior way (though he was clearly more successful in the peace caste). If he would have to, he would fight to defend her.

    So he doesn’t caste his gaze down, his blue eyes meeting dull gray ones, and because of that he doesn’t miss the sparkle in those same bland gray eyes when the stranger moves forward. He knows he isn’t a good match, having way to little experience in battle and Brynmor didn’t possess any trait that would help him here. The kingdom granted invisibility wouldn’t help him the slightest bit, since the snow underneath his hooves would clearly show where he was standing. And if the prints wouldn’t show it, the crackling of the snow would give him away. He just stands his ground, chest puffed and teeth bared in a threating way. Instead of moving away from the fire and soaring heath he moves closer, ready to plant his teeth in the scarred skin of the stranger. There was simply no way that Brynmor would let the stallion move past him towards G’ren Fire.

    However, that doesn’t mean he was prepared for what followed. Fire licks his skin and the surprise – or shock – had him backing away. Jumping backwards even. Anger soars through him, burning as the strongest fire within, and that probably is the only reason why Brynmor is still standing between the mare and the stallion who said to claim her. His muzzle hurts, oh yes, but the formerly blind stallion tries his best to bite it back and stand his ground.

    It his Offspring who saves him, even though he doesn’t like it to admit it. The ice king made his entrance just when Brynmor had been about to reply, to tell the stranger for the nth time to leave the Tundra. His king doesn’t demand anything else, instantly backing him up even though they hadn’t even shared a glance. His pink lips are parted, trying to stop the burning feeling by preventing that they touch. Not really the most charming pose, but he had little other options. ”Like I already said, there is nothing for you here.” he speaks, a little slurring, but speaking nonetheless as he settles himself next to Offspring, backing his king up without any hesitancy. In fact, if he had to, Brynmor would throw himself at the burning stallion again.

    BRYNMOR





    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)