10-07-2019, 02:50 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Courgette&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.pteron_horse_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width:550px;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;}.pteron_horse_container p{margin:0;}.pteron_horse_message {margin-top: -50px;background: #fff;border-radius: 50px;border-left: 5px solid #587D83;border-right: 5px solid #587D83;text-align:justify;padding: 15px 30px;padding-bottom: 40px;color:#587D83;}.pteron_horse_name {position: absolute;right: 70px;bottom: -5px;font: 30px 'Courgette', cursive;color: #587D83;}.pteron_horse_font_size {font-size: 20px;}</style><center><div class="pteron_horse_container"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/NfXJ4Qtn/pteron.png" style="width:550px;"><div class="pteron_horse_message"> The dragon’s breath is hot, too hot, and then it is gone. For a moment, Pteron is too relieved at his continued existence to think, and then he finds himself standing besdie Aedan. The boy is unharmed, he thinks, but the dun stallion does not have time to look him over carefully. The princess is asking for a story, and while Pteron is still racking his brain for one, Aedan begins to tell one. He knows it by the first line; the Tale of the Reckoning always begins with a reminder of the cost of greed. The tale Aedan spins is the one Pteron knows – with perhaps a few changes, for oral tradition has a habit of taking on the preference of those who tell it, and Pteron’s family has always been given to flights of fancy – and the pegasus listens and nods.
<b>“I will tell you another story,”</b> Pteron tells the Princess, <b>“The story of how the first horses of Beqanna gained the magic that was stripped of their descendants during the reckoning.”</b>
<b>“A day came when the fairies called for bravest hearts to fulfill a quest. Many answered, but it was a young stallion, full of strength and swift of foot, that was to succeed. His name was Lone Star, and he was faced with more dangers, more obstacles, than were in the whole of Beqanna. Monsters and shadows and darkness, and worst of all: humans.”</b> He realizes, as he says this, that the Princess is just that: a human. Too thin, with only two legs and fragile little claws instead of hooves on her forelegs. Well, he supposes, having been trapped here, perhaps she already knows the habits of her kind.
<b>“They were beating the most beautiful mare that Lone Star had ever seen. With little care for his own safety, he leapt to her aid, fighting off the humans and securing her freedom at great personal cost. Grateful for his aid, the beautiful mare Banat er Rih took him to her parents, and begged them for a suitable reward. Lone Star sked only for their daughter’s hand, but the great Mystics Ziyadah and Tabari granted him three other thing as well. Immortal life, so that he might love their daughter longer than a single lifetime, a horn so that he might defend her, and wings so that he might soar among the clouds. The two of them returned to Beqanna, becoming the first with magic in their blood to live in the Sunrise Lands.”</b>
He finishes his tail, and the Princess is satisfied, for she leads them to a doorway. It will not lead back to the Mountain, Pteron knows, but there is no chance of escape. Not yet. Not in this world.
Aedan is soon lost in the darkness, and Pteron wishes him luck in a whisper that is swallowed by the blackness. Down, down, down he goes.
At first, he wonders if he is dreaming. The little blue glow has become a world above him, a world with a sound that he knows now as a whale call. He has been here before, he thinks, but this time there is no handsome amethyst-eyed stallion at his side, no chance that this might merely be an illusion. He ventures onward – upward – and the golden city at which he might have stared for hours is nothing compared to the army that swarms him.
Their rapid approach had made him defensive, and Pteron’s pale wings are unfurled before he can truly think about it. But while they do press ever closer, jostling each other, pushing, shoving, bumping – they never touch him. They are muttering words that he does not know, and none will meet his eye. None, that is, except for one some distance back. He is different from the others, clearly uncomfortable where they are eager.
Visually, he looks like the others, at least at first glance. But then Pteron looks back at those jostling around him, and then again at the one that stands alone. Had he not known a particular pair of siblings back in his own world, he might never have noticed the subtle difference. They are all antlered, but the creatures that surround him have smaller, more elegant tines. The one alone’s are larger, thicker, though the number of tines placed him roughly of median age in the group of creatures that surround him.
Pteron feels an immediate kinship, a bond with the only other male in sight.
His realization is useless though, and there is an increasing frenzy in the muttered words of the peryton female around him. They’ve not harmed him yet, and Pteron decides to take a chance. He leaps upward, and with one flap of his wings, crosses the space between himself and the other. As soon as he touches down, he feels an unexpected pain in his chest. Several pains, truly, and he twists his head to see that the other male has stabbed at him with those impressive antlers.
Pteron squeals and steps back, and finds that the muttering females have now formed a circle around the two of them, and their muttering has turned to cheers. The male Peryton charges forward again, and this time Pteron ducks away. The other comes close enough that Pteron can see the discomfort on his face had changed to determination, and Pteorn realizes – somewhat dimly and quite a bit delayed – that Pteron was the reason for his discomfort, that Pteron’s arrival had pulled away the attention of the females that must have been entirely focused on him before.
<b>“I don’t - ”</b> Pteron attempt to explain is cut off by another charge. The male shouts something in the same garbled language, and though Pteron shouts back his explanation: that he doesn’t want to fight, that he doesn’t even want to be here, nothing seems to be getting through. The pain of the first stabbing is beginning to fade, and knowing that he can’t possibly defeat an army – and also that he doesn’t want to suffer the consequences of winning, Pteron decides to take a quicker way out.
At the next charge, he doesn’t duck away. He takes the full brunt of the Peryton’s slashing antlers, even turns his head a little so he a few more tines make contact), and falls to the ground. There’s enough blood that his jugular might have been sliced (it’s only happened once before, and years ago, so he’s not entirely sure), and the female Perytons let out an enormous cheer before swarming the bloody-antlered male, who is smiling victoriously. Despite the hooves and claws of those that rush over him, Pteron does his best to remain still. Cheering and singing, the Peryton crowd moves toward the golden city, leaving their vanquished foe to bleed out on the ground.
Instead, Pteron bides his time until he is sure they are watching no longer, and disappears. It will take some time to recover from the trampling and the stabbing, but once he is healed, he means to find his way back home, no matter how long it takes. Perhaps they’ll think the tide swept him away, or some ocean creature came out of the depths to snack on his prone body. He doesn’t care what they think, as long as they don’t come looking for him.
<p class="pteron_horse_name"><span class="pteron_horse_font_size">--</span> pteron <span class="pteron_horse_font_size">--</span></p></div></div></center>
<b>“I will tell you another story,”</b> Pteron tells the Princess, <b>“The story of how the first horses of Beqanna gained the magic that was stripped of their descendants during the reckoning.”</b>
<b>“A day came when the fairies called for bravest hearts to fulfill a quest. Many answered, but it was a young stallion, full of strength and swift of foot, that was to succeed. His name was Lone Star, and he was faced with more dangers, more obstacles, than were in the whole of Beqanna. Monsters and shadows and darkness, and worst of all: humans.”</b> He realizes, as he says this, that the Princess is just that: a human. Too thin, with only two legs and fragile little claws instead of hooves on her forelegs. Well, he supposes, having been trapped here, perhaps she already knows the habits of her kind.
<b>“They were beating the most beautiful mare that Lone Star had ever seen. With little care for his own safety, he leapt to her aid, fighting off the humans and securing her freedom at great personal cost. Grateful for his aid, the beautiful mare Banat er Rih took him to her parents, and begged them for a suitable reward. Lone Star sked only for their daughter’s hand, but the great Mystics Ziyadah and Tabari granted him three other thing as well. Immortal life, so that he might love their daughter longer than a single lifetime, a horn so that he might defend her, and wings so that he might soar among the clouds. The two of them returned to Beqanna, becoming the first with magic in their blood to live in the Sunrise Lands.”</b>
He finishes his tail, and the Princess is satisfied, for she leads them to a doorway. It will not lead back to the Mountain, Pteron knows, but there is no chance of escape. Not yet. Not in this world.
Aedan is soon lost in the darkness, and Pteron wishes him luck in a whisper that is swallowed by the blackness. Down, down, down he goes.
At first, he wonders if he is dreaming. The little blue glow has become a world above him, a world with a sound that he knows now as a whale call. He has been here before, he thinks, but this time there is no handsome amethyst-eyed stallion at his side, no chance that this might merely be an illusion. He ventures onward – upward – and the golden city at which he might have stared for hours is nothing compared to the army that swarms him.
Their rapid approach had made him defensive, and Pteron’s pale wings are unfurled before he can truly think about it. But while they do press ever closer, jostling each other, pushing, shoving, bumping – they never touch him. They are muttering words that he does not know, and none will meet his eye. None, that is, except for one some distance back. He is different from the others, clearly uncomfortable where they are eager.
Visually, he looks like the others, at least at first glance. But then Pteron looks back at those jostling around him, and then again at the one that stands alone. Had he not known a particular pair of siblings back in his own world, he might never have noticed the subtle difference. They are all antlered, but the creatures that surround him have smaller, more elegant tines. The one alone’s are larger, thicker, though the number of tines placed him roughly of median age in the group of creatures that surround him.
Pteron feels an immediate kinship, a bond with the only other male in sight.
His realization is useless though, and there is an increasing frenzy in the muttered words of the peryton female around him. They’ve not harmed him yet, and Pteron decides to take a chance. He leaps upward, and with one flap of his wings, crosses the space between himself and the other. As soon as he touches down, he feels an unexpected pain in his chest. Several pains, truly, and he twists his head to see that the other male has stabbed at him with those impressive antlers.
Pteron squeals and steps back, and finds that the muttering females have now formed a circle around the two of them, and their muttering has turned to cheers. The male Peryton charges forward again, and this time Pteron ducks away. The other comes close enough that Pteron can see the discomfort on his face had changed to determination, and Pteorn realizes – somewhat dimly and quite a bit delayed – that Pteron was the reason for his discomfort, that Pteron’s arrival had pulled away the attention of the females that must have been entirely focused on him before.
<b>“I don’t - ”</b> Pteron attempt to explain is cut off by another charge. The male shouts something in the same garbled language, and though Pteron shouts back his explanation: that he doesn’t want to fight, that he doesn’t even want to be here, nothing seems to be getting through. The pain of the first stabbing is beginning to fade, and knowing that he can’t possibly defeat an army – and also that he doesn’t want to suffer the consequences of winning, Pteron decides to take a quicker way out.
At the next charge, he doesn’t duck away. He takes the full brunt of the Peryton’s slashing antlers, even turns his head a little so he a few more tines make contact), and falls to the ground. There’s enough blood that his jugular might have been sliced (it’s only happened once before, and years ago, so he’s not entirely sure), and the female Perytons let out an enormous cheer before swarming the bloody-antlered male, who is smiling victoriously. Despite the hooves and claws of those that rush over him, Pteron does his best to remain still. Cheering and singing, the Peryton crowd moves toward the golden city, leaving their vanquished foe to bleed out on the ground.
Instead, Pteron bides his time until he is sure they are watching no longer, and disappears. It will take some time to recover from the trampling and the stabbing, but once he is healed, he means to find his way back home, no matter how long it takes. Perhaps they’ll think the tide swept him away, or some ocean creature came out of the depths to snack on his prone body. He doesn’t care what they think, as long as they don’t come looking for him.
<p class="pteron_horse_name"><span class="pteron_horse_font_size">--</span> pteron <span class="pteron_horse_font_size">--</span></p></div></div></center>