"(souls are not meant to live more than once — death was not meant to be temporary, and she is so sure that every time her heart starts to beat again that irreversible damage is further inflicted)" -- Anonya, written by Colby
04-08-2020, 02:26 AM (This post was last modified: 04-08-2020, 07:04 AM by Leilan.
Edit Reason: Tags don’t work?
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
The ice dragon has never actually cared for diplomacy - that much was sure. And in the wake of an entirely unreasonable attack from the Loessian king - former king, yet king at the moment - he finds that he can’t talk it over. No. Whatever anyone meant to do, it probably wasn’t to create a warrior kingdom.
But it happened. Because in the wake of disasters and burning, retaliation was the only thing constantly present in their unnecessarily hungry minds.
It may be seen as primal and unworthy, but the Northeners - the true Northeners - aren’t the type to let others decide what’s wrong and what’s right. They owe us. They owe them for not giving any warning, for not standing up to the dragon when he came - Ruinam aside, maybe. Such a volatile dragon should be punished. Should not be king at all, if he still was. As of yet, none of the people in the far North had heard of any repercussions or statements against him.
It has become a mantra to them - Beqanna, and especially the kingdom of Loess, should give us back what they took. These Northeners are rising stronger than they did before. They are rising higher than they ever had come. They reach further into Beqanna and take what they need from them.
What rises from the ashes, is a force to be reckoned with.
He calls them and they move; the fighters among them leave the island, with one single goal - to get from the mainland that which wasn’t left to them on the Isle.
They sneak around to the most promising site they can find: the Brilliant Pampas. Meadows stretch before them, a colour green that the rogues haven’t seen in quite a while. Flowers, bees and butterflies welcome them like it’s Walhalla - hares and voles scatter when they catch the scent of quite a few predators in their midst.
There are several reasons for coming here, starting here. If anyone has a problem with it, these reasons can be explained. But they’re not backing down from what feels to them as their basic right to live.
The icicle isle is slowly recovering, small sheets of snow forming over the charred landscape, creating a new scene of life even though the island has always been rather empty of it. Tox knows that getting off the island will be good for him though, his mother has kept him here all his life, he had never even had the need to leave and so he didn't, he comfortable stayed on the island, helping the others living there and making sure they were safe.
His mother also joins him as they move toward the Brilliant Pampas, she wasn't fond of the whole idea but wanted to make sure she was there in case anyone got hurt.
The large bulk of mammoth finally arrives at the pampas, a smile hidden beneath his large tusks as he takes a stroll, taking in the gorgeous view that the brilliant pampas presents. The seemingly limitless stretch of meadow creates an almost timeless and infinite feeling, soft and fertile flora blooming perfectly in the summer weather, the flora is lush, more than he could have ever imagined having lived his whole life on the icicle isle, it was magical and the scent was even better. As he walks the glowing greenery casts an entrancing scent that fills his lungs, creating a fleeting moment of marvel in his lungs every time he takes a breath.
The stallion makes his way over to Leilan, greeting him and standing close by, awaiting what he can only imagine will become a moment of infinite grazing.
It begs, that empty knot called his stomach, he can only bend and comply.
Had he known what he was getting himself into, perhaps his actions would have been different, maybe his stomach wouldn’t gnaw at his spine and grumble just as much as he did. If the course had changed, would he be any worse off than he is now?
Where else would he have gone? Who else was there, so ready to take him on, the way Leilan had?
“Are we almost there?” It became a corrupted hymn, scowling and seething impatience, thinking only for the promised edibles.
Lacking a God to praise, he turned to condemning the situation.
Ivo was salivating before they neared the outer realm of Loess, Brilliant Pampas it was called, and it was.
The scorched tundra they had left was no feast, he’s chewed on more dry branches than he is ready to say. Here the green is expansive, the soils fertility fully expressing itself and the desire to take his fill, it is overwhelming.
“Finally,” he says, a restless tone overtaking his vocals, though it’s easy to mistake it for his usual inflection.
“Are we waiting to say grace or something? What a drag.” To further display his displeasure, he shifts his weight to his back legs, slumps his shoulders and- well, he visibly pouts.
04-12-2020, 08:03 AM (This post was last modified: 04-12-2020, 08:04 AM by Chemdog.)
The stabbing pain of hunger is not something unfamiliar to him. With age comes resilience, starving is nothing new and still it is just as raw as the first time it happened to him as a child. He’s lost weight since his decision to stay on the Isle – why? He’ll often ask himself this. His own voice booms back at him, echoing in his head, ‘Why the fuck not? Will it kill you? No.’
So a personal quest, then? A test of one’s own grit? Who knows, but either way, there are times when he questions himself and his decisions…and just about the time he’s starting to hallucinate from lack of food is when his doubt is reaching its peak.
The dinner bell chimes and they’re on the move. Not quite together, but close enough, their bodies move through the barren landscape and onto the fertile soils of the mainland. Their radar is set for somewhere prosperous with food, and this, he reminds himself with a greedy grin, is why he stayed.
Energy courses under his hot flesh, there is an extra kick in his trot as he follows the scent of Leilan through the hills and valleys. The smell of vegetation is not far and it makes him drool like a hound smelling steak. Slowly they creep across the border of the Pampas, nothing exciting unfolds immediately and this is to Chemdog’s instant delight.
He did not notice they were waiting for some formal invitation to start plucking the fruits from the vines, but he certainly was not concerned with formalities. Carefully, appreciatively, he chooses the large fan leaves of a delicious emerald plant at his shoulder. Its juices run down his chin as he chews loudly, his eyes rolling back dramatically as his head comes back up to look around.
The scent of the destroyed Icicle Isle comes with them; it’s too strong a scent to be hidden when they all arrive together. The little red mare sends her daughter away, to find shelter with Ryan and his family; she doesn’t know what to expect from this band of travelers and if they aren’t peaceful, she doesn’t want Noma to see it. She’d seen her father murdered in front of her eyes, after all; she would never subject her own child to such a memory.
Her movement across the Pampas is near-silent; the grasses she treads upon rise strong and new behind her, and the only hint of her approach is the faintest of whispers of grass brushes across her sides. For a moment, she peers at them from behind the last curtain of strong summer grass, steeling herself for an unpleasant encounter. She would rather hide with the others, and emerge when they have gone, but she forces herself forward, green eyes flicking from face to face.
They ALL tower over the little mare’s petite stature, nevermind the actual TOWERING the one does, but physical posturing isn’t Noah’s go-to maneuver anyway, and she doesn’t bother to try and make herself look intimidating. Instead she smiles at them, bright eyes warm, head slightly cocked. “Hello,” her voice is sweet and welcoming, but they will have to strain to hear her whisper even over the sounds of their own breathing and munching. It’s twofold – the first being of course that Noah rarely lifts her voice above such volume, but the second is purposeful – most beings will modulate their own volume and intensity to match more closely to her disarming quiet.
“Welcome to the Brilliant Pampas. I am Noah, and I lead here. Can I help you?” They don’t look particularly peaceful, but she will always seek the nonviolent solution if possible. But she won’t give up her homeland – this is the only home Noah has ever had and she will defend it to her last breath, though there are a few who would step in before she had to do so. Last time, she hadn’t had the time to seek her King before she had to face her opponent in battle – but she had won that, against all odds, leaning hard into the core of strength that is hidden beneath her small body and smiling face.
that's all there is
the most loveliest of tables by jassal manip by devin | stock credits: @szmigieldesign at unsplash.com madishmade, darkbeforedawn23, xxtgxxstock, cactuskim, madetobeunique @ deviantart.com
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
The roan stallion appreciates how quick some of them come, how quick they act - one joins him, one asks the question, and one provides the answer he would have given if necessary; Leilan grins a bit at Chemdog biting into the nearest greenery he can seemingly find. The ice-clad male turns to Intoxication with an amused look on his face. ”What’re you waiting for? I’m not gonna say prayers for this dinner.” he chuckles a bit, and nodding from Tox and Ivo to Chemdog as if trying to prove a point. ”Better get your fill before we move out.”
As if on cue, a small roan mare joins them - small, but mature. She greets them with the wariness written all over her face, and he can’t say he doesn’t blame her. Her diplomatic ways are just that - diplomatic - but he appreciates not being charged off (not that it is likely she’ll succeed with so many, but she could have tried), especially considering the circumstances. ”Thanks for the warm welcome, Noah. We won’t keep you long, I hope,” he eyes the large mammoth, trying to estimate how long it will take, ”We’re technically just passing through.” The roan shrugs a little, as if it’s no big deal. And, it can stay that way - the Pampas isn’t known for it’s particularly large herd, so it should easily recover from this little dent in resources.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
The sooty overo buckskin brought up the rear of the motley crew as they began their decent upon the lush Pampas. It was a major contrast not only in color, but in life. Kamali flared his nostrils taking in all the smells around him, the scent of the lush sweet green grass, the floral aroma of the wild flowers, all mixed with the woodsy smell of the surrounding trees and not even a hint of ash except what came off from the small herd.
Kamali turned his heterochromia eyes in the directions of Intoxication, who was followed by his mother. *Their bond must be strong* the stallion thought to himself as he studied the mammoth hybrids. The sooty buckskin overo's attention was taken from Intoxication and his mother as he heard the complaining coming from his left side. Ivo, the bay stud was the owner of the complaints. Kamali did not know much about the bay with indigo points, but figured Leilan would not have asked him to join without good reason.
With a sigh of contentment, the buckskin overo stud lowered his head to grab a mouthful of the awaiting grass. It was sweet and juicy, the stallions stomach welcomed it all too eager for the next bite to come. Kamali lifted his head as the oldest member of the small herd came into his view, Chemdog. Though the black stud came off a little rude, he had good intentions. Kamali watched as the older stud dug into the luscious grass. He turned his head in Leilan's direction as the silver bay roan stallion said they better get their fill. Kamali nodded and took another mouthful.
The sound of a mare's voice stole Kamali's attention. A red roan mare appeared from the tall grass near the edge of where their group had started grazing. The trick colored stallions pricked his ears in her direction before turning his attention back to Leilan. The mare must be the lead mare of these parts, Kamali began to wonder what their purpose was for coming to Pampas.
Old he is, but only in mind. His body, depending on his general mental and physical health, is almost always somewhere between 9 and 18 years old – hardly ever taking on the appearance of an old man, although it’s been known to happen in his bouts of depression. His markings are sharp white against the eely shine of his very black basecoat. No signs of graying for some years now, but with his recent life choices he is a little thinner than normal, which looks awkward on his normally pretty bulky frame. Hopefully that is about to change… he’s always meant to be a little fluffy or he looks like he’s made of spare parts. When he’s too skinny his head, chest, and barrel don’t quite match his legs and butt. He wouldn’t know much about his own looks if it weren’t for the taunting reflections on the surface of still waters, reminding him he was starving himself for a little bit of adventure.
Thoughts of starving quickly fade as he gorges unabashedly. At some point there is another voice, and among a small pile of burly dudes, this little winged roan find herself greeting them. She isn’t nasty or unwelcoming, quite the contrary, and this, along with her general attractiveness, draws him away from his feast and to Leilan’s side (a polite distance, no neck breathing). He’s in no position to jut in, but he listens, tipping on ear to Leilan and the other to Noah, as she introduces herself and her home.
He isn’t shy about staring, but he doesn’t do his usual look over as one would its prey. He keeps his focus to her face, reading the tones of her voice, reading Leilan’s too. The group isn’t so rag tag when their heads are up, eyes forward, standing somewhat close – by the hour they look more and more like the guerilla group they’re set out to be.
The fox-shifter had thought his strategy of eating everything in sight during his captivity in Loess would suffice. He thought the extra storage - extra cushion - would help to buffer the anticipated weight loss when he returned home. He also thought that Loess stealing him and using him as leverage against the North would be all there was to it. But, no! They had to burn his home, too. As if they weren't flipping him the bird, already. They flipped him off and then, jabbed and dug it repeatedly in his eye. This was personal.
The moment he did finally plunge into the cold waters between Nerine and the Isle, Jesper's sensitive olfactories wrinkle with the putrid stench of sulfur and burnt carbon. His jagged hooves find traction on land, but sink into a film of dusty ash versus crunchy snow or, smooth ice. His nose wrinkles and his lips curl upwards. Jesper stretches his whiskered muzzle towards the ground though, he is quickly repulsed by the plume of ash that flutters into his airways. He retracts with a violent snort and jerk of his poll before allowing his icy gaze to survey the charred, barren landscape. This is personal, he thinks. Jesper presses on to find his companions and family safe. That is a relief and, yet, the black feels a dark ember burning deep within his gut.
Days later, Leilan's call stirs him from his restless pacing. He answers the summons with peppy jog. The padding he accumulated during his accommodations in Loess is rapidly melting away. His barrel is no longer round but, rather, sleek with a couple of visible ribs. The pang in his stomach growls angrily and, that little ember is now a flickering flame. Jesper embraces his brother's proposal eagerly. He sticks close to the pack of misfits: the towering, reddish-brown mammoth male, his bear-shifting mom, the indigo-pointed bay male, the uniquely marked black and white male, the sooty buckskin and white male, and of course, the bay roan draft male. He remains close to all save for Sabrina. The black is perturbed that she has stuck around, and has wriggled her way back into the public scene. He keeps his objections silent as they have no place here. Absolutely nothing would stop him from pacifying this hunger.
He trails behind Intoxication and Caelestra with a lightness in his step that can only be explained by their mission today. After reaching the mainland, Jesper shifts into his silver fox skin. While his equine instincts are modified by the dual capacity of his brain, they are by no means suited for this. He needs every sense in its most acute form. He needs his body as light and agile as possible. He would also like to ensure he gets his fill and, showing up with an herbivore's stomach would have competition. His canine body can digest a wider variety of resources and so, his menu will be bigger and, his competition less.
Their arrival on the lush edges of the Pampas is largely uneventful. Everyone is able to arrive and take in the scene prior to anyone getting suspicious. He notes that Chemdog gets right to eating and, with an approving smirk Jesper nods. His aquamarine gaze surveys the thick grasses and bountiful flowers. His first thought is, Leilan is brilliant for making this our first stop!
For a moment, Jesper second-guesses his decision to order take-out as a fox since there seems to be plenty for the horses here. But then, the tip of a rabbit's ear rotating catches his eye. The silver canine notes which direction the wind passes his nostrils. He crouches low amongst the blades of grass and moves with the breeze to stay down-wind of his prey. He pauses when it turns its head and waits until it is busy foraging and, unsuspecting. He wiggles his hips and tucks his tail low. He springs off of the ground to pounce on the rodent with his maw parted. In one swift motion, he closes his jaw around the prey's neck and pins the smaller critter between his front paws. He is about to twist and snap its neck when the soft voice of a female ushers, Welcome to the Brilliant Pampas.
Jesper contemplates letting the creature go but, the rumble in his stomach reminds him that he is so close now. He repositions himself so his back faces the group. He proceeds with preparing his first meal, in ages, and twists its neck. In one motion, it falls limp. There, now it cannot run away. He turns back towards the group and sets the now-lifeless rabbit down at paws. The silver canine sits for a moment and takes in the scene. Jesper casts a fleeting glance to Sabrina to see if she would he so bold as to claim his catch for herself. Then, he acknowledges the red-roan winged mare with a smile, though his gaze remains icy. Leilan's reply is diplomatic: enough information to suffice but, still vague.
After the ice dragon finishes speaking, Jesper takes a moment to note that the rest of their motley crew is munching away. He looks back at Noah with a warmer blue tone to his gaze. His smile softens and he speaks up. "We are very hungry." His words could be a threat in any other tone but, he kept his voice matter-of-fact. The next sentences emit in a somber tone and his body language changes to match the despair he feels. "I am not sure anyone can help us." He shifts his paws and tucks his tail closer to his seated haunches before continuing. "I suppose it cannot hurt to ask. Do you know of anyone who can regrow plants?"
Alright so, he went along with it, the whole thing. Joining in on the trip to the isle, agreeing to stay, accompanying the rag-rag herd on the foraging trip.
So he isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, fine, so be it. He wasn’t sure about the lot of them either, granted he had barely been introduced to most, except for Lei. The guy was okay, maybe, sorta had ice coming out his nose when they met.
Pretty gross right? Yea, Dad had the whole soot and ash thing going on, that was weird too.
What a drag indeed, he stands impatiently, unsure at first if he is supposed to wait for everyone, or simply dig in. He was exercising restraint, using his manners, does no one see this? Well, no matter, he was already shining his hero medal in his head, breathing a warm breath against the metal and wiping it with his whiskered lips until it gleamed.
This has never happened before, the lack of food, the twisting of his stomach.
What a drag., however there is no time like the present, and once he sees the numbers build- he no longer wastes his minutes. He’s done counting, biding his patience. With a huffy snort, he walks off a bit from the others, delving into the first lengthy stalks of green.
When the winged mare approaches, introduces herself and greets them, he is surprised that she seems so pleasant and rational about the situation. Can I help you? Suppose she could help them by allowing them to graze, she had enough food it seemed, would they even miss it?
words: tags: HTML by Call
just tossing in here that he is helping himself to the foods
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