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Post by QuibbleCur on Feb 13, 2020 1:47:24 GMT -6
A R O K H
Serora | Outcast
”IF YOU LOSE TRACK OF ME, JUST LOOK FOR THE EXPLOSIONS!” Arokh’s tail swept the ground in an almost cat like motion as he unflinchingly met the Thunderbird’s unfriendly gaze as it regarded him. Was she sizing him up? As curious about him as he was of her? He wasn’t sure. But the stare was hot on his coat despite the chill that clung to him.
Others also piped up one by one to appease the Matriarch’s ire. The foals that seemed to be the primary translators seemed to be huge contributors to that. The fact that the small ones were brave and bold enough to even try to accomplish anything here let alone play ambassadors and be the voices for their herd and speak to this towering king of birds was something impressive.
His eyes also flicked to a strange individual. A blue roan overo who stood about as tall as Arokh himself, who seemed to bear lights shining in their dark mane and tail, this horse stepped forward to question the injury. Important, Arokh guessed by the looks the others seemed to regard the common equine with.
As the Thunderbird Matriarch spoke again with sad sighs, and her words were relayed by the translators once again with care. The kirin pushed his curiosity about Mr. Sparkles aside. If he was anything prominent and important he could ask Piper or Whirlwind, what he was all about later without this more pressing matter at hoof.
He couldn’t help the snort as Malaika voiced the belief it was a punishment from Alya. Sure, he was not of this land. This open place of wings and wind, with its strange ways, and even stranger people. He would put little passed the sky goddess and her wind change moods he was not Alya’s by any stretch. But the idea of these birds bound to a ‘purpose’ not all agreed on and sent creatures that affected everyone to punish one clan and it's leader...it seemed too cruel. Too petty.
“I actually don’t think I understand that, Matriarch.” Arokh stated bluntly. “I don’t see what would make them so certain you’re to blame. You who from where I stand seem to be the bravest and strongest of them all. It could mean anything. How do they know that its not a sign from your god to not just co-exist. But for Her creations, all of them. To unite and work together against these ‘Hunters.’ Even if temporarily till the threat is gone and balance restored"
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Post by AmaranthineRain on Feb 13, 2020 19:35:53 GMT -6
KARANILA Seroran Windracer
Karanila lays back her ears upon the revelation that Great Matriarch Malaika's own daughter had attacked due to unrest caused by the emergence of the Sandhawks. She is about to blurt out a response on reflex when the other blood bay present, a dark and proud kirin, speaks up. She nods along in agreement that Malaika has clearly proven herself to be the mightiest to be leader among her clan. "And you are not beyond reasoning," Karanila adds. "We see that your words and actions hold sway over your clan, great matriarch. Surely there are stories among you of the tough equines who put up quite a fight that would serve you among your people. Perhaps old stories from before our previously negotiated peace? I understand it may be other clans that attack us, but why else would those ones wear parts of our armor, our trinkets, and...us as trophies?"
Hostile thunderbirds wearing their kind's things and bones can rub others the wrong way, but Karanila knows it to be a simple fact of the predators they share Sedo with. She looks around, particularly at the sparkling blue roan prophet, wondering if she should continue. Perhaps...just one more point. "We would be considered valuable allies if not assets against the hunters under a certain scope, no?"
Karanila's Thread Stats [Post: 2 | Post WC: 216 | Thread WC: 516] |
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Post by Artistic Pineapple on Feb 13, 2020 20:53:29 GMT -6
Zasha Serora Fledgling
The filly translates diligently, folding her wings back to her sides when it becomes clear that tensions are dissipating. She moves sideways, standing so that she is still facing the Serorians while also being able to see the matriarch's great form out of the corner of her eye.
It is impossible not to be in awe when in the midst of a creature as great as Malaika. Zasha reminds herself to take slow breaths when her heart begins to jump at the sound of her own voice translating for such a powerful leader. She sways slightly, her green eyes flashing to Malaika's face when the thunderbird clan leader speaks of the cause of her injuries.
Zasha can't help but mimic the sorrowful tone in her translation and works to keep her voice steady. Sorrow rolls from Malaika, an emotion the child is mostly unfamiliar with. She can't help but drop her long ears as the matriarch finishes speaking, the weight of the situation finally becoming apparent. Zasha's mind swarms with questions and her blood grows cold at the thunderbird word for Sandhawks.
Hunters.
Though she doesn't vocalize her opinion, Rook's filly offers the matriarch a confident nod in regard to her final question. Thunderbird tempers tended to run quite hot - no doubt a cause for their struggling peace. But the matriarch's word was clan law, and therefore must be accepted. At least, that's what Rook would have said.
She watches the gathered equines, regarding the other speakers with quiet interest while thoughtfully flaring the feathers along her crown at the mention of an alliance.
Zasha once again looks to Great Matriarch Malaika, bright eyes brimming with curiosity as a question races across her mind. "Great Matriarch, what purpose does your daughter think you're forgetting?"
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Post by Zookcan on Feb 18, 2020 0:36:20 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
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The Matriarch's answer had bred confusion. Even as the words that slipped from her beak translated as clear as day to his well trained ears, Eniah cannot not help but struggle to make sense of them. Granted, he knows that this land is not home to his culture, and though he had been steadily adapting to Serora's ways, he has only been in the desert for a year and he still has much to learn. The only thing that he does make sense of were the hunters -- the Sandhawks, the same creatures as the skeleton that hung within Alhaj's library and the same ones that had flooded those ancient walls with sand ages ago. His knowledge of them is mediocre at best -- but he knows this much.
But why would they see reason to attack Serora? Eniah thinks to himself quietly while choosing not to speak. Seeing as those around him had reined the conversation back to a comfortable level, and that, frankly, Thunderbird customs were nowhere near his level of expertise, he felt as though he didn't need to. It boggled the colt's thoughts, however, that Alya's rage served as a reason for the strikes. It seems one thing was true about Aodhian texts; Alya was an angry god, even to her own people.
'But why are you so wrathful? What good does it do your patrons to make them suffer even more than they already have?' He pondered this briefly, but it was more of a personal question rather than an important one -- Only one very important question lingered in his mind as the Matriarch conversed with Zasha and the others: What will it take for the attacks to stop? | |
Word Count: 282
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Post by ThatDenver on Feb 19, 2020 16:11:36 GMT -6
GREAT MATRIARCH MALAIKA
The Matriarch looks vaguely amused.
”I am surprised all of you have forgotten the legends. Well, perhaps not so much the one with antlers – born of fire you might be, brother-without-wings, but I doubt the stories of sands were shared among your kin”, she says, before giving the gathered party a more serious, considering look.
”Our kind was created as adversaries for the pegasi. The Mother of Wings wished it so, and many are our stories of the Furies hunting us down, and the brave birds who fought them. This is no story – it is fact, a knowledge passed to us through generations. It is our purpose”, Malaika says, and shakes her head: ”So it stands to reason – to many – that in helping Serora, I and those who fly with me, have broken the balance. They seek to right the wrong.”
Then she scoffs, and nods at the birds accompanying her.
”I do not believe so. I believe Mother of Wings is not angry at us, but something else entirely”, she says. Her eyes are worried: ”But make no mistake. She is very angry. And it scares us, too.”
She then nods at you again: ”I still wish to be allies, but I can not force others to believe me. There is something I want to ask of you, in return, but first, I think you should feel something.”
She then calls forth another thunderbird – what must be the creatures name is a loud screech, and soon another thunderbird lands. This one is visibly ancient, more grey than red or cream. Their eyes are milky in color, and their body is gaunt. Decorations of bone and feather hang from their neck, and you realize that they look like they were made by a horse, but for a thunderbird.
The new bird flaps their wings, and lowers their head in greeting.
”This is our Eldest. Listen to his voice, sing our song, and feel what we feel”, she says, and then closes in her eyes in what appears to be reverence.
The ancient thunderbird lifts their head towards the sky, and lets out a low, rumbling sound that seems to vibrate through their whole body – and then through the ground. The other thunderbirds join in, almost in a trance.
Word count: 378
Post #4
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Post by Silverfallingstar on Feb 19, 2020 17:53:40 GMT -6
 Creo smiled at her brother as he greeted her. With all the chaos going on around the herd, she hadn't had as much time for her family as she'd have liked, even though she and her siblings shared the same rank. She nodded "I remember back when we first made contact, the matriarch does not enjoy being rushed... or snuck up on. She'll arrive when she likes and we'll just have to deal with it." She chuckled.
"I'm glad you're here too. We don't get much time together to spend as a family recently." She grinned.
She didn't manage to get much more in edgewise, as right after the rumble of thunder in a clear sky, they were here. She struck a soldiers posture, not hostile, just ready in case anything happened. Her spear was held in her teke, though the point was deliberately brushing the frost underneath her hooves. She met the matriarch's gaze, bowing her head in greeting as a show of respect, aknowledging their previous meeting as the thunderbird did. As soon as Malakia gave the serorans permission to speak, voices began crying out. Creosote snorted and flicked an ear at the sudden clamor of voices, but held silent. She was here for protection, she intended to only offer up her voice if it was needed.
Creosote took note that the sandhawks were causing issues among the thunderbirds. It made sense, the old apex predators of sedo had returned and with it, the current balance was thrown into disarray. She was quite thankful that the matriarch desired to remain allied, it was quite the learning experience during the war to fight by their side, knowing that would continue gave her hope for the future. "It is good to hear you want our alliance to continue, it was a great honor to fly at the thunderbird's side in the war." She spoke, nodding her head to emphasize her words.
The appearance old thunderbird fascinated Creo. Those decorations were made by equine hand, yet this thunderbird was wild, and revered by his peers. What else could be learned from the thunderbirds and their culture? The fury was not one to pass up the opportunity. She took a few more steps forward towards the thunderbirds as they began their strange song. She closed her ears and listened, feeling the rumbling in her chest, she did her best to join in.
(the first part of her post is from the start of the thread, I didn't wanna leave torbek hanging)
Post #2 | Word Count: 400 |
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Post by Artistic Pineapple on Feb 20, 2020 13:45:06 GMT -6
Zasha Serora Fledgling
Her back remains to the group as the matriarch speaks, intent to let the others translate for a moment. Malaika's bemused expression is telling and the filly feels a gentle pang of guilt. Was she supposed to know the legends?
Large round ears cocked toward the great beak that clacked and rumbled through the explanation, but tears began to pool in the child's eyes.
Zasha had very vague memories of hearing something or another about furies defending equines from thunderbirds. She had figured the thunderbirds in question were the same aggressive rogues that attacked nomads without warning or that ate horseflesh for fun. Rook had spoken of these tribes once and his eyes had grown dark at the mention of their terrible ways.
But to hear the matriarch speak of brave birds defending her flock against equine hunters was heartbreaking. Why would Alya pit her creations against each other? Why couldn't they all just get along like her and Rook?
She blinks the tears from her eyes quickly, intent to keep her composure in front of the matriarch as the great thunderbird clan leader nods at the two avians flanking her. What Malaika says next is reassuring and Zasha sighs in relief. If the matriarch herself has chosen to go against what her history says, why can't equine-kind as well?
Zasha returns to translating as Malaika beckons a new member to join their conversation, eyes growing wide at the sight of the Elder. As the ancient bird lands, she dips her head respectfully, keen eyes noticing the jewelry dangling from the old creature's neck. It isn't dissimilar to the makeshift totems she would craft to adorn Rook, the child notices. Of course, the knots she tied never lasted longer than a few days and the teke that crafted these decorations was clearly much more skilled.
"Listen to his voice, sing our song, and feel what we feel."
Her skin feels as though lighting is arching over it when the song begins. The vibrations seem to be coming from everywhere, even the ground below her feet and she feels something deep inside of herself begging to join in. It's an ache not to immediately hum with the resonance.
"She's invited us to join in the song!" Zasha chirps over the blood in her ears, adrenaline pounding through her petite frame. With a final glance to the familiar faces of the gathered serorians, the filly tips her head back as far as it will go and gladly lets her voice join the thunderbird song.
WC: 430 | Post #5
Header by Queerly
She's just really excited to screech sing |
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Post by Zookcan on Feb 22, 2020 22:05:58 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
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But why now? Why now, after decades of years of supposed peace between equine and thunderbird, do the clans choose to war against both kin and horsekind? Was it just because Malaika had decided to ally with Serora? Was it because of the appearance of the Sandhawks? Was it Alya's wrathful anger, stirring unrest in her creations? Or had this deep desire to follow tradition always slept, waiting for a catalyst to spark it back to life? There were many questions. Things he didn't quite understand and frustration he hadn't felt before. Alya, why do you make your children suffer this way? Was it any better or worse than the pain and crimes Ignacio and his creations had once supposedly caused all those centuries ago?
It didn't feel right, and it angered Eniah, because he wanted to understand. In the past year, his opinion of Alya had shifted from standard Aodhian bitterness to genuine curiosity. He wanted to know why the Serorans loved her so much, and perhaps, he wanted to feel the same as them. This is your home now, Ianthe had once said to him. He wanted this place to feel like home.
With a deep breath and a whimper, Eniah tries to swallow his frustration. But the facade is cracking, and as he lifts his head skyward to join in the Thunderbirds' song, he can feel his eyes welling up. Alya, do you hear your people sing?
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Word Count: 240
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Post by buffyandbramble on Feb 23, 2020 13:42:24 GMT -6
Acorro was being good, holding his tongue and holding his stance, his weapons unmoving and about as non-threatening as an armed warrior could be when on high alert. He was very far from relaxed, but he figured that so long as he was silent and still, he couldn't upset anyone. Probably. He hated politics and discussions, talks of peace and treaties and agreements. It wasn't that he was against such things - he was happy to offer his help where he could, to cooperate with others, to build friendships and strengthen bonds, but the actually hashing out of such agreements? Urgh, no thank you. It was all so complicated and he could never follow it. He was just here in case things went wrong.
He really hoped things didn't go wrong.
He hadn't realised he'd been mostly holding his breath until things started to calm down again, perceived offence to the Matriarch abated and discussions resuming. It was sort of a relief to hear that it had been her daughter that had left the mark, which was a strange thing to think he realised. But at least they knew what it had been, and it had been a thunderbird. The herd knew how to deal with thunderbirds, as a general rule. It was less of a relief when he considered that there were thunderbirds looking to overthrow the Great Matriarch. As thunderbirds went, she probably classed as 'not bad' when judged on a scale of how badly she wanted horses dead. High praise, probably.
He frowned deeply when she spoke of their purpose, explaining themselves as created as adversaries for the original pegasi. He wanted to scoff, dismiss it as nonsense because why in her right mind would Alya create giant winged monstrosities that's only purpose was to be hunted? It was madness! It was cruel! And... it wasn't something he could immediately put past Alya. She wasn't exactly the gentle type, it wasn't a stretch of the imagination to image her as a trophy hunter in it for the thrill.
He couldn't quite manage to stay still when on the summons of a screech, another thunderbird begins to approach. Instead his weight shifted to his hindquarters, ready to move at a moment's notice and his glaive was lifted in his teke so that it's butt was no longer resting on the ground. He resisted the urge to swing it down into a fighting hold, just about. Apprehension soon gave in to confusion, when the newcomer was close enough to be observed. Old, ancient, and about as non-threatening as it was possible for a horse-eating avian to be. Acorro's ears stayed fixed back against his neck, the confusion plain on his face. He wasn't following any of this!
The old thunderbird's actions did nothing to clear anything up, nor were the interpreters with their translated words. Singing? Why were they singing? (Was that noise supposed to be singing?) Acorro was a firm believer that music could bring together all sorts of people but this? This was made his head hurt, and maybe his ears too. Still... After a moment's hesitation he added his own voice to the chorus.
Post #2
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Post by AmaranthineRain on Feb 24, 2020 15:25:58 GMT -6
 KARANILA
Seroran Windracer
Much as Karanila loved Serora and strived to learn everything about it she had not known about legends detailing the relationship between furies and thunderbirds. She had known there was bad blood but...Looking around Karanila realized she could almost hear every other equine thinking about Alya - wondering, questioning, inquiring why? Karanila returned her attention to the matriarch. Stubbornness kept her from taking a step back when the ancient grey thunderbird descended to stand before them. The decorations swinging under their neck produced a sort of music in rhythm with its movements. Like many of the others Karanila imitates the bowed head in greeting. ”This is our Eldest. Listen to his voice, sing our song, and feel what we feel."Karanila jumped when the low rumbling sound that vibrated through the elder thunderbird's body started. She lifted a forehoof when she felt it reverberate through the ground and up her hooves. It was like an invisible knocking on the door of her being, like something coming coming down from the air to the entrance of a deep tunnel. She could not tell if she should describe it as bass or baritone, but when she lifted her head to allow it in the tone of it thrummed through her muscles loosening knots she did not know she had.
Relaxing into it as she would into a hot bath Karanila turns her whole self into the elder's song, her curiosity winning over any caution.
Karanila's Thread Stats [Post: 3 | Post WC: 243 | Thread WC: 759] |
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Post by ThatDenver on Feb 25, 2020 10:05:04 GMT -6
A VISION IN A SONG
At first, nothing happens, outside the absolutely horrific noise the thunderbirds have achieved.
You might even feel a bit stupid, standing here surrounded by enormous monsters, trying to rumble in the same tone and rhythm as them. What comes naturally to the birds is much harder for a equine throat to achieve, and you feel the strain.
Until it suddenly becomes easier.
Almost thoughtless, second nature.
The rumbling sounds pleasant now. Comforting. Like soft wings gliding along in a gentle, warm breeze.
Your body seems light. You feel great wings to your sides, beating softly, as if they were your own.
Passing, ungraspable memories and thoughts flow freely in the song, too fleeting to be seen, yet there.
Then come the feelings, flowing freely within this strange space.
Feelings of sorrow, of loss, of fear and confusion.
And above all you feel pure defiance radiating from a bright mind you realize must be Malaika’s.
She is not afraid.
Eventually the feelings become images.
You see a flash of starlit wings.
You soar high above the world, effortless.
Simultaneously you are deeply connected to each other and the heartbeat of Hireath, and yet far away – removed.
Safe.
Then, you feel the rage.
It courses through you like a shock.
A glimpse of glass and water.
A great storm.
Great rolling hills and a city of stone.
Falling stars and broken antlers.
You will make things right, said in a familiar voice.
Starlight underground.
A gate standing open.
Music, music in the darkness.
Again, but better? that familiar voice says.
Again, but better, confirms another.
A glimpse of a creature you have never seen before.
And then, silence.
The rumbling fades.
The elder looks exhausted, almost crumbling to the ground, their strength drained.
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Post by QuibbleCur on Feb 26, 2020 13:22:16 GMT -6
A R O K H
Serora | Outcast
”IF YOU LOSE TRACK OF ME, JUST LOOK FOR THE EXPLOSIONS!” Arokh had been surprised when another seroran chimed in adding to his words to Malaika. He flicked his attention to the mare with a nod agreeing with what the fellow blood bay had said in turn.
It was a strange feeling to be sure. But he’d been fully expecting some seroran to get uppity at him speaking here to order him to keep his ‘snake breathing hole shut’. As the words popped in his head he could practically hear them spoken by a certain ashen coated mare as though she were beside him. Hissing snake like herself in his ear as her mismatched eyes tried to burn holes in the kirin’s hide. The thought amused him. He almost wished she were here just for that.
When the thunderbird spoke again and the amused words of the bird were translated reached his waiting ears, it was with a surprising pang of guilt that he admitted that he did not know any such tales of Serora.
Alya’s people, their history, their lore, their stories they’d meant nothing to the kirin. Why would they have? Why would you learn or tell legends of herds ‘lesser’ beings, when you sought to destroy them? You don’t need to know history and lore to kill them. He thought distinctly bitterly.
He dragged himself from his thoughts, pricking his ears to listen intently as the ‘purpose’ of the thunderbirds was revealed. The story that the thunderbirds felt was fact. She made them for the furies to cut their teeth on? One way to keep the feather dusters from getting lazy, complacent and preening themselves in their own reflections, he supposed but it felt so wasteful. But then again he came from a grander kingdom where their greatest allies were the mighty dragons.
Then the matriarch wanted them to ‘feel’ something and Arokh blinked in confusion. Which only grew as Malaika called an older thunderbird forward. A very old and worn bird to be sure. The elder who stood before them flapped and lowered their head in greeting. A courtesy which Arokh returned.
“Listen to his voice, sing our song, and feel what we feel” the translators said as the thunderbirds raised their voices in screeching calls that uh did not resemble song or tunes that he knew. They are definitely not song birds. He thought amused even as his ears were assaulted by rumbles. Like thunder as it rolled through the frosty air and seemed to make the earth rumble beneath his hooves. It got worse as other equine raised their voices to join the din straining to match the tone and tune.
He didn’t get what this was meant to serve and if felt so silly. Though a certain foal made it unintentionally adorable as one of their primary translators threw her whole heart and soul into it and was living her best life. Eventually he thought what the heck did he have to lose? The request of the matriarch to join this...whatever this was. Wasn’t unreasonable and for all he knew of thunderbird culture could have been some honor.
An insult if declined.
He swallowed his pride and tried to mimic what rhythm and what little ‘tune’ he could make out. He could feel the strain in his throat. He felt truly stupid and it actually took a good few moments to notice the change in the feelings and sensations that he was both alien to yet natural. Feelings flowed through him and like when he was trapped in his nightmares it was hard to tell what was his or not.
Then came the images. They flashed quick leaving barely any context as voices could be heard “Again but better” they said. And a creature none had seen before. Then it was gone. The elder looked exhausted and practically collapsed as the visions were whipped away as though by the wind.
Arokh felt shaken as the spell of the song was lifted he looked at the old thunderbird mutely wondering if the old one had shared the vision with him. No not just him. Judging by the expressions some of the others wore they’d seen it too. or at least had seen something.
“What the heck was that?” he asked no one in particular, his heart and mind racing. And a growing sense of unease and dread filled the kirin as of the images that flashed by, the one his mind had latched on to was that of broken antlers...
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Post by Artistic Pineapple on Feb 26, 2020 23:09:10 GMT -6
Zasha Serora Fledgling
Zasha crumbles neatly into a heap on the ground when the thunderbird song fades, her legs suddenly forgetting they were holding her up.
Her wings are open, the phantom sensation of the vision still hanging on her small form. But her eyes close for a moment as she tries to regain a sense of the here and now.
It was like the sweet cactus she could sometimes find out in the desert - the taste of which would stay in the mouth for hours after eating the fruit. The vision was part of her. And she could play it back and see it all as clear as the day before her. All of it. Even the parts she didn't understand.
The filly opens her eyes slowly, as if waking from a dream. Her mind was full of thoughts and images but now they were all her own again.
The first thing that comes into focus are the thunderbirds before her and Zasha springs to her feet when it becomes clear that the Elder is struggling to stand. Her ears catch the question of one of the horses behind her, but the child is far more concerned for the ancient avian in their midst.
"A-are you okay?" She can't help but stutter the question, wings opened in concern and legs still trembling from the experience she's just had.
Her head swings to Malaika, unsure what to make of everything she had just seen and searching for answers. What would Rook think? What did it all mean?
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Post by ThatDenver on Feb 28, 2020 7:40:54 GMT -6
GREAT MATRIARCH MALAIKA
The ancient thunderbird looks at Zasha, and states softly, with a hoarse series of sounds that reveal his old age: ”It is not easy, brushing against the mind of a God. Does not come free.”
The old thunderbird seems terribly winded still, and one of Malaika’s companions comes forward, gently aiding the ancient one in walking into shade.
Malaika looks at the visibly confused crowd, and if thunderbirds could smirk, she would certainly wear that expression – a knowing, if tired, smirk.
”Indeed, brother-without-wings. This is what we have been shown – and we make no more sense of it than you do. It has us rattled, even my flock”, she says, and then looks thoughtfully to the northeast.
”Many times have I flown this vision. The great beast of feather and wing with soft mouth and lack of beak… It is unlike anything I have seen. It is no Hunter. I don’t know what it is”, she says, before seemingly giving up on trying to reason it out for now, and instead telling the gathered horses: ”Perhaps luck will favor you, more than us. Will you hear my request now?”
Upon having a confirmation, she states her case: ”I would have my flock live with you, closer to the City-from-beneath-sands. We will keep other Thunderbirds away, and do you no harm. In return, I ask only that you allow us to live there – the land is greener near the City, and the Hunters would not fly there. Too many horses.”
Word count: 249
Post #5
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Post by seechem on Feb 28, 2020 16:45:08 GMT -6
N E R O
the Prophet of Serora
'writing my poems for the few that look to me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me'
... ...
Nero pressed his ears forward as he heard their send. As strange as it sounded, the Thunderbirds were still children of Alya, and something primal and ancient reverberated with their melody. Even as the sound curdled the air around him, Nero found that the hairs along his back and throat stood on end; the specks of light around his glowing warmly as his mane whipped to and fro in the wind. Silently, Nero looked to Acuna and Tumble, giving them the most reassuring smile he could muster before straightening himself up and opening his mouth.
He had never been the best singer, but to begin with he hummed at a high, gentle note. Carefully he brought his voice into the vocal range of the birds, cringing a little at the foreign, unseemly sound that he emitted. He felt his face heat a little with embarrassment, but nonetheless he felt compelled to continue. More voices filled the air and the sound weaved a strange connection in the air so that Nero could almost picture a constellation connecting them all together. Joined in a unity of strange sound, so unmelodic and strange, and yet communal. The strain in his throat dies away, and Nero feels himself relax into the flow of the sound, as though he had tapped into something tucked deep within himself. And steadily a sensation of weightlessness overcame him.
But just as he felt untouchable a strange twinge of emotion touched him, and a rage began to consume the airy lightness of before. Glass, water, storm, hills, an expanse of stone structures, a familiar voice echoing in his head and all around him, lights glowing below the surface, a deep echoing music. Voice conversing, a figure unknown. All in a flash, all brief.
Nero barely noticed that the voices had faded, that his had naturally died along with everyone else's. Falling oddly silent after the strong force of their collective voices. For a while Nero stood stock still, his eyes still fixed on the sky. He quickly redirected his attention to his notebook, retrieving it to record the visions and words, making rough sketches of what he had seen and felt. Noting the voices. Noting the anger.
A soft thudding sound made him stir, and he tucked the book back within his saddle bag to see the elder who had begun their song crumple a little. Nero's heart quickened apace and he looked to his companions, relieved that Zasha addressed the elder. As the Matriarch spoke, the Prophet looked to her, and even though he did not understand her words, he saw an amiability in her. As the translation was fed to the group, Nero's eyes softened. It was generous of her to suggest she risk her flock for them, and the Prophet looked to his herd mates gently. "That is very generous, Matriarch Malaika," he began, bowing his head, "it is something that shall likely need to be discussed with our Sultan, Jibriel." Nero took a step closer, meeting the Matriarch's eye briefly in a show of trust and honesty, "But your request sounds mutually beneficial and fair considering the risk to you and yours." The offer did not immediately sit well with him, no matter how kind. He had no doubt that there would be fear of inviting Thunderbirds to come closer, indeed his own anxieties around the creatures was bubbling away under the surface of his calm decorum.
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Post by buffyandbramble on Feb 29, 2020 17:33:53 GMT -6
The tune was... odd, if it could really be called a tune at all. Acorro strained his ears to tune into the lilt and rhythm of the sound around him because it was there somewhere. Singing along with thunderbirds had certain not been on his list of "things he expected to do today" and yet here he was. The whole experience was kind of surreal.
Then it was literally surreal. Something changed and he couldn't put his hoof on what, but it had changed. The singing was suddenly singing, the melody easy to follow, practically leading him through the music. He almost wondered what had happened, but he dared not think about it too hard less the effect shatter and he go crashing back down to the earth below. Below? He was flying? It certainly felt like it, and it was a feeling that managed to be both joyous and disconcerting at the same time; he wasn't a creature of the air and he had never been intended to fly.
Acorro was barely wrapping his head around the strange flow of foreign feelings when they changed, becoming images he didn't quite understand. Was he seeing these? Were these memories? He didn't know. He didn't know how to know; all this spiritual kind of stuff was far beyond him. He wasn't sure how anyone could be prepared for something like this, but he knew without a doubt that he could never have been prepared.
He didn't understand. The visions faded and suddenly he was aware again of the hard stone beneath his hooves, jarring and reassuring both. He tried to orient himself, shaking his head from side to side as if the physical action would dispel his confusion. What had all of that been? Was there meaning in it? Was it supposed to make sense? He best point of reference he had was dreaming, and dreaming didn't always make sense, it just was. But this... he felt like this was more than just a dream, like there was supposed to be something deeper. Some connecting thread between all of it, but that he didn't know how to find...
He shook his head once more, the action morphing into a full body shake as he tried to clear his mind once again. He drew his head back, ears still back and confusion writ upon his face. This was so far beyond his rank it wasn't funny - he wasn't a spiritual kind of horse, he didn't care for this at all.
Post #3
WC: 418
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Post by Zookcan on Feb 29, 2020 23:39:59 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
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He never thought she'd answer. Or perhaps, it wasn't an answer, but a mere brush with a gift he never thought any mortal could possess. Throughout his young life Eniah had gone without any divine encounters, visions or experiences of the ethereal kind, save for when he had received his blessing. What he sees as the heavy droning of sound eventually joins together as continual white noise makes him shudder and smile with amazement. It feels like a lucid dream, where he can fly and beat imaginary wings at his sides and watch the world grow more and more distant below him. It was almost as though he could feel the breeze, and the stars swirling beneath him.
The dancing images. The music. Glass and a storm. Two voices in the shape of rolling hills and broken antlers. Very quickly he felt that this was not about Alya alone. It was not one god, it was all. It was Hireath. Places and creatures he never once seen yet somehow must have been connected. Their ties are as loose and frail as strings, strings that could only be manufactured in dreams. If he were asleep he would have written them off as mere images conjured by his subconscious, and nothing more. In fact, Eniah still wonders if he'd fallen asleep, and this is all just a result of poor sleep and ample amounts of black tea.
But it is not, and he confirms this as the rumbling ceases and his thoughts stumble back into the real world. Dazed from the visions that danced in his head, the ruddy colt stumbles, leaning one way before catching his balance. Just as he does, the Elder's figure buckles with exhaustion, the last of his heavy droning finished. A pang in Eniah's chest drives him to want bolt forward and catch the ailing creature ( in spite of his lacking size, ) but Zasha is quicker to come to the beast's aid. She knew these creatures far better than he did, so he decides to let her handle it.
Thank you, he thinks. He doesn't know who it's for yet; either Alya or the thunderbirds, for frankly he was still trying to piece what he say together. What did it mean? He wanted to know. Was it a warning? Events through another's eyes? Retellings of past events?
"If my companions agree, then I would love to learn more about your people and your culture, Matriarch. If you will give the opportunity," The colt bows. "It would be an honor to share Alhaj with you, in my opinion."
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Word Count: 430
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Post by Maelorom on Mar 1, 2020 16:44:50 GMT -6
 = BELLONA =
"Chin-up kid, they'd kill to see you fall."
WC: 323 | Post #2Despite having come to aid in translation, Belle had remained quiet for the duration of the meeting. To be honest she felt out of place. She had been trying so hard to fit in, but now, surrounded by so many proud Serorans, she felt distant. So she kept her focus firmly on the matriarch. The large birds, as intimidating as they were, had come to have a familiar, comforting quality. Her two familiars were almost always by her side these days and their language was almost as familiar as equine language. She did not feel tense in their presence, but in an odd way she felt she was standing on the wrong side of this meeting.
The matriarch's words were grim, and did little to improve her confidence. All this talk of balance, it drew her mind back to the doubts that had been paining her these last few weeks. And it did not seem like good news for Serora either, if the thunderbirds were in-fighting the situation was even more delicate than she had thought it might be.
She looks on curiously as the matriarch calls forth a clearly elderly bird. "Sing our song"? She squints in confusion for a moment before the thunderbirds begin their chorus. She recognises the sound, her familiars have maybe made similar sounds. Only pausing for a moment to consider the racket, she joins in as best she can. The sound that is produced is cacophonous and painful to the ears, as well as the throat. But then it changes.
She had never witnessed a vision before, it was disconcerting and a little terrifying. Even when it was over she felt dazed and confused. What on earth had she just witnessed? In her confusion she only catches the last few words of the matriarch. A deal between the Serorans and thunderbirds, it sounds fair.. and intriguing. She nods in agreement with Nero, still a little shaken. |
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Post by ThatDenver on Mar 2, 2020 16:15:59 GMT -6
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