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Post by strixx-variaa on Jun 12, 2016 11:42:05 GMT -6
A city in the stone, it was, and how odd that the den of his oil's vinegar should remind him so closely of home.
The Shade craned his neck upward, taking in as much as his eyes could see from his position on the absolute ground-level of Osulas. The architecture and decoration of the cavern mouths seemed to depend which "neighborhood" of the canyon in which one found oneself; in some of the wealthier (and, he suspected, more winged) neighborhoods, stones had been cut and carved to build elaborate hangings off the natural stone wall. In other, less grand-looking parts of the winding chasm, doorways and walks were cut rough, right out of the canyon itself, and decorated only with perhaps an awning of fabric and wood. It was the former neighborhoods, those in which beautiful buildings seemed to sprout right out of the stone, which reminded The Shade of Aquore.
Because in Aquore, Talorians built their houses out of native stone, too. And they built them on steep mountainsides, almost just as these people did, and in some of the smaller, oceanside towns one winding road may be the roof of the dwellings on the road below. It was enough of a similarity that the matte black stallion almost wanted to laugh aloud at the absurdity of relations between the two herds, but given that he was alone and did not want to seem too mad to the wind-walkers, he refrained.
He'd arrived in the city earlier that morning, having spied it on the horizon in his journey south. Now it was closer to lunchtime, and the sights, smells, and sounds of Osulas were playing devil on his stomach.
Food, everywhere!
Vendors on corners sang their wares in loud, alien accents. The colors were just as bright as they'd been in Aquore, but perhaps because the land here was so dull, everything horse-made looked brighter in comparison. Street cooks wafted smells at passers-by, and after weeks in the wilds without a daughter's kitchen to return to, The Shade was rather finished with wild alfalfa and rather enamored with literally any other food.
And so it was that on this hot, bright spring morning in a city he surely had no right to visit, The Shade found himself luxuriously lounging in the dry Sedo air beside a vendor's cart, waiting on his hot, spiced vegetable turnovers to come out of the fry-oil and wondering where in the five hells he could get a drink around here.
words: 416
tags: @thrutheocean
notes: i'm so sorry for being late on this starter! i started house/dog sitting on thursday, and both thursday and friday night their air conditioning went out. and we live in florida :'D so my brain melted but it's back in solid form again today, thank goodness. |
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Post by Deleted on Jun 12, 2016 13:37:29 GMT -6
Stefan bolted out of the house with boundless enthusiam, his feet clacking along the stone with resonating smacks. He trotted through the carved out halls, his excitment spiking as he thought of the city. Stefan lived in a well off (private) home, which was built far deeper (and far more extravagantly) into the canon walls as a result of his brother's position within the herd. Salvatore was an iron hoof, which in Stefan's mind translated to glorified bodyguard. His duty was to protect the Sultan, and in turn, he was showered with gifts, which ended up just being a large secluded home. Away from everything. Not what the young colt had expected - or wanted, to be quite frank. However, it was all that he was going to get. Simeon had been whisked away to Gods know where, and Silvestro had gone off after her, so the only one left to stay with was his older brother. Don't get it twisted - Stefan loves Salvatore more than life itself, but living with an older brother turned parent was suffocating. Of course, there was really nothing he could do about it. His parents had been gone for years, and Stefan's hope that they would return was dwindling by the day.
He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. He'd give anything to just forget. Forget all the shit that's happened in his short 12 years of life. Perhaps that's why he spends all his time running away from home and getting into trouble. Anything to free his mind from the thoughts that consumed it constantly.
He continued down the different corridors, the way to Osulas engraved into his brain from his countless journies to the city. The smells and sounds began to encompass his entire being, and he took in a deep breath, his energy pulsating rapidly. No matter how many times he entered the grand city, he would always be swept up in its excitement and wonder. The bustling crowds, sounds and smells made him perk up his ears, and he smiled at those he passed by, recognizing each and every face, even if he's never spoken to them before. (But of course he has - he's Stefan. He knows everyone.)
Which is why, perhaps, the sight of a strange black horse, no larger than himself, standing in his grand city made him cock his head with curiosity, and his eyes narrow with determination. A new face! He's certainly never seen the stallion before, and right away knew that there was only one way to find out who the hell he was, and what he was doing here. With a lopsided grin on his face, Stefan, blissfully ignorant (or better yet - completely aware and simply choosing to ignore his own irritating antics), approached the stallion, indiscreetly staring him down as he stood behind him in line, his gaze unwavering. The smells of the oil and vegetables flooded his senses, but he remained focused on the stranger, his brown eyes full of awe. The stallion's coat shone differently than that of any other horse Stefan had ever seen before, and his left ear was completely missing. Oh, this was without a doubt the most exciting day of his life.
~~~~~~~~~
words: 535
posts: 1
ahhh don't worry about, it's all good! glad to know that everything's fine 8)
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jun 14, 2016 19:49:22 GMT -6
"Fanks," muttered The Shade to the turnover-vendor, not having waited for the little pockets to cool before shoving one in his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in days. (He had.) The matte black stallion took the rest of his purchased food in his telekinetic grip (he'd paid the cook after ordering) and went back to his lounging spot with a pang of homesickness.
It wasn't the odd group with which he sat which made his heart hurt. These were all foreigners, and nobeast he could relate to. (Well, of course they weren't foreigners here, probably, but since he'd left Aquore, everyone was a foreigner to The Shade.) They all sat or stood alone or in groups, chewing diligently on their lunches, bought from various street vendors or the odd little hole-in-the-wall cafe which seemed common in this part of Osulas. Some smoked, some drank (the lucky devils), some looked right at him, but they weren't why his heart hurt.
And nobody would know this who knew him now, but everyone would understand who'd known him before, because his grip was wrong.
It was the wrong color, I mean. When he'd lived in Aquore, it was a happy, bright sort of ocean-blue the same color as his eyes, but as he'd gotten closer and closer to the date of his ultimate defection the color had muddied and darkened. Now it fluctuated between a dirty sort of brown color and an ashen black, and The Shade couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't an outward projection of the destruction of his soul or something like that.
He'd never expected this; it wasn't something he'd ever been taught could happen, and it was surprisingly important to him now that it was happening.
And it made his heart hurt to look at anything he held, because he had to look at it through the dark, dirty color of his own nature.
Or something like that.
Beneath an awning created by something that looked like a fabric pavilion on the level above, The Shade leaned against the outer wall of a business not but a few paces away from the turnover-vendor. Glaring at his traitor's grip but having finished his last mouthful, and feeling absolutely starved for the hot, wet, juicy filling hidden in each of his remaining pasties, The Shade took a fresh bite out of a new one and lifted his eyes to the street.
This place and its strangeness would overwhelm him soon if he wasn't careful.
words: 416
tags: @thrutheocean
notes: ❤ |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2016 21:04:14 GMT -6
Stefan's eyes remained trained on the stallion, even as he walked away and left Stefan in front of the line to the vendor. A sharp huff snapped him out of his trance, and he sheepishly smiled at the impatient mare that stood behind him. Turning his attention to the equine manning the vendor, he briskly ordered his meal before trotting along after the matte stranger, chomping away at his own veggie pocket as he wondered what he would say. Or, if he should say anything.
Stefan was prone to ignoring his more.. problematic tendencies, such as following a horse he had only seen for five minutes, and he was not being discreet about it at all. Wide eyed with his jaw practically on the floor, he studied the new face with undying curiosity and wonder. He made sure to keep somewhat of a "safe" distance (he figured from that missing ear this guy had to know something about danger), though it failed to ward him off completely. Hell, if anything, it made the young colt even more interested.
As he finished his last pocket he approached the stallion, though the gap between them was notably smaller. Stefan, despite his usual bold persona, felt oddly intimidated by the stallion, especially due to their close proximity. He dipped his head before speaking, though he probably looked like a bumbling idiot doing so. He very well knew how to be polite, he just chose not to be. Which is why, perhaps, he found himself tripping over his own hooves (Alya knows how) when he positioned himself in an upright position once more, his own brown eyes meeting crystal blue ones.
"Hi." He offered a slight (maybe even charming) smile, daring to take another step forward.
"Sorry for the intrusion, I've just never seen you around before." He continued, saying the first thing that came to his mind.
"I'm Stefan."
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words: 319
posts: 2
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jul 4, 2016 8:58:52 GMT -6
The Shade eyed this one's juvenile tail and the way his bones didn't quite fit his flesh yet.
A youth. A big one, with growing yet left to do, but a youth nonetheless.
If he'd had the time or the presence of mind to think deeper thoughts, the old stallion would've spent some time wondering what, exactly, it was about him now which attracted so much attention from the younger generations. There had been that other one, Dante (the Discord), whom he'd met in Aodh before wandering south to see the stronghold of the winged folk -- and Dante had been just as keen on him as this one seemed to be.
It wasn't something that had happened much in Aquore, is why the pattern (if you can call two occurrences of something a "pattern") caught his attention. Maybe it was because Ikran was a solitary creature by trade and by nature, or maybe it was because his many offspring warned their friends away from a strict father, or maybe it was for some other reason entirely -- but this just hadn't happened in Aquore, so why was it happening everywhere else? Was he so noticeably different from the rest of the world as to attract its attention?
That wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to be ignored, to be left alone; he wanted to observe from the dark, cool places while he sorted himself out, and being noticed certainly wouldn't help him achieve that goal.
But like I said, The Shade had other things on his mind -- like the damned good filling in these turnovers -- which precluded long trains of thought about his hypothetical noticeability.
Instead, he met the young man's gaze, and swallowed another mouthful of food. His voice was gruff when he spoke, and low in both pitch and volume, but it was not unkind. He would give this one more than he'd given the other.
"An astute observation. How old are you, Stefan?"
words: 327
tags: @thrutheocean
notes: ❤ |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 4, 2016 21:36:20 GMT -6
Stefan kept his eyes trained on the face before him, pleasantly surprised that the stallion wasn't as harsh as his appearance made him seem.
In all honesty, it befuddled the young colt to see such an odd horse in his homeland. It was a mix of all different factors that ultimately combined into his need to talk to him, but individually, those traits would have compelled Stefan to stay away.
The stallion's coat shone in a way he had never seen before, and at the same time, it didn't look like a coat at all. It wasn't exactly shiny, no, not at all, but it did glimmer under the sunlight, in a way that could only be understood if you were seeing it for yourself.
That missing ear also piqued Stefan's interest (though any missing body part was bound to make a scene no matter where you went). In all his life he'd never seen something like it, and though he was aware that it wasn't a massive deformity, it still made him stare a bit longer than he should have.
And alas, his eyes. It was only just now that Stefan had seen them - it otherwise would have gone unnoticed had they not been standing so close together. His sclera was fucking black. It was unnerving, to say the least. Had Stefan's overall persona not be so audacious, he would have turned tail and run the moment he spotted it.
However, as said before, all of these notable factors combined in such a way that all the young colt could do was stand his ground and talk to the stranger.
"Twelve, uh.." His voice trailed off, and he curiously rose a brow, hoping to indicate that he was searching for a name. From the moment he was born, Stefan was a social creature. Nothing made him more comfortable than the busy hustle of a crowded street, or the grinning at familiar faces as they passed him by. It was only natural that learning the name of a new face would make him excited. Which is why, when he felt his impatience get the better of him, he blurted out - "What's your name?"
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words: 363
posts: 3
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jul 14, 2016 12:23:38 GMT -6
Had he not been so preoccupied with the way his grip reminded him of that thick, clinging sort of mud that gathers outside a well-travelled door, The Shade might’ve been rather alarmed at the ease with which he defaulted into conversation with a youth.
At the ease with which he settled into some sort of quasi-parental attitude.
At the ease with which he reverted back to the self he’d been trying to escape for forty years.
It was a habit of young horses, perhaps, to press for information to which they had no right. Dante had done the same, treating a name like any other noun to be slung about without care for the mouths and minds which held it.
It was something he’d stamped out of his own children long ago.
Not the curiosity itself, of course, but the intrusive way most children had of expressing that curiosity. Never let them see they’ve got you, he’d tell his brood.
Aquore was safe enough most of the time, but if a Rogue ever happened to cross paths with one of his children, Ikran felt he was duty-bound to give his blood a decent chance at getting away with a full purse and unbroken skin.
The Shade, so many miles away and not so many souls apart, was no different.
“Why d’you think you need to know it?” he asked, his voice choked by the food in his belly, the fat of it still in his mouth and in his throat, coating his airways in a thick, greasy, delicious impediment he had to cough to clear out.
words: 267
tags: @thrutheocean
notes: iiiii'm a massive tool, so sorry for the lateness T_T i had a minor, temporary muse death. |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2016 22:22:25 GMT -6
To say Stefan was perplexed by the newcomer's attitude was a complete understatement, to say the least.
There was a certain "vibe" the colt had detected from him, something that was ever so slightly off. (As if his physical appearance wasn't already enough to drive others away.) Stefan, however- he could look past that. It had never stopped him in the last, but his childish naivety had led him to believe that this stranger was only unapproachable on the outside- once you look past the rough and tough exterior you'll find a heart of gold underneath.
That was not the case here (or maybe it was, and Stefan just had to keep pushing.)
Regardless, the colt's eyes visibly widened, and he looked taken aback. All his life he had only known the acceptance and openness of his herd, and he allowed himself to plant those same values onto this total stranger. A bold move on his part that backfired severely.
His voice was gruff, guarded, though not necessarily mean- but it wasn't like he was looking for any sort of affection either.
Stefan furrowed his brows, trying to come up with something to say. How can you respond to that? It was certainly something that no one had ever said to him before and so, he puffed his chest and brushed away his uneasiness. Unapologetically brash as always, he replied (though the way it came out sounded more like a question) - "Because you know mine?"
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words: 245
posts: 4
OMg I'm so sorry I took so long to reply I'm such an ass otl
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