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Post by strixx-variaa on Jan 10, 2016 13:24:48 GMT -6
"I AM A GUARDIAN, YOU FUCKING -- PEDDLER -- OF POISON!!" What you must understand about Thaumas is that, on any other day, he would've been the one roused from his bed in the barracks to go out and deal with the noise complaint, and he would've chuckled a little with the barkeep afterwards about "gods-damned alcoholics," and he would've never given it a second thought. And you must also understand that yesterday was the day his heart died, so none of his characteristic scruples are in place at all, and instead every good thing in his body is trying like mad to stitch back together his broken soul. (Well, I say "broken," but realistically it was like a surgeon's knife had sliced right through it, right down the middle, and you know how clean cuts are harder to heal than rips and tears? That's why they don't like cutting the mother's belly if she can pass the child naturally. Except now it's not Thaumas's belly that's been cut, but his whole person, everything he is or was or ever will be, and even with the right kind of sutures there will always be an angry scar where the cuts were made, and instead of sutures he's chosen hard liquor.) Anyways, if you'll be so kind as to turn your attention back to our inebriated infantryman, you'll hear a lot of yelling and crashing coming from inside the tavern, and a lot of dogs barking and shouts for "Quiet!" coming from the surrounding neighborhood. It's not quite dawn, you see, and I'm not sure anyone planned to be awake quite this early. And you'll see Thaumas being tossed out on his ass (which, even though he's a large fellow, isn't difficult at this particular moment in time as he never drinks and has discovered as of several hours ago that he is, indeed, a lightweight, and with the amount he's imbibed by now he can't hardly keep his balance on solid ground anyways), and the tavern door being slammed shut and locked tight behind him. So now he's just kind of a big lump on the street, groaning at the top of his lungs about being a "paying customer" and that this sort of insolence and heartlessness is why he never patrons taverns in the first place, and trying his best not to cry. words: 394 tags: Dream-Lark notes: starting thread for thaumas & rycaron from this plot! closed thread, set approximately 25 years ago (so like, year 1675?) so thaumas is only about 25 y/o in this thread. <3 also i just realized that i think at the time rycaron would've been an emissary? and if that's true then they could already know of each other, because thaumas's mother was an emissary and is still alive and working at this date (so maybe they've met before but never talked? i'll leave that decision up to you!). also my skype is camibyrdbrain if you want to add me <3 |
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Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 16, 2016 8:38:11 GMT -6
The sun hadn't even peeked above the horizon yet, though the sky was beginning to be tinted with pinks and purples. It was early, but that didn't matter to this equine. He trotted down the street, ears perked forward and attentive, moving with a sure purpose. Rycaron had a few things to attend to before he made his way to the palace for his daily duties--and he would not be late. However, it seemed as if fate might have something else in store for him that day.
A raucous could be heard ahead, shouts of 'quiet', a few muffled crashes, then the sound of a door banging. The emissary knew he shouldn't stick his nose into someone else's business...but that was his habit, and it might prove to be some useful information to have later on. So he altered direction slightly, turning about a corner to see a bulky stallion sitting in the middle of the street in a slumping heap, groaning and muttering to himself incoherently. Nose wrinkled as the odor of alcohol reached it, ears drawing back as well. Perhaps it was just another drunken sloven, kicked out and senseless. And yet...something prompted the stallion to take a second look, and that was when he realized the slump looked rather familiar.
Yes, Ry had seen this drunk before, though never in his current state. He was the son of a prominent Emissary, that's where he remembered him from. The two had never spoken, and if memory served correctly (which it usually did) then this other was a Guardsman...out on his butt drunk in the street. What had happened? This was certainly the kind of information he'd been curious to see if he could find. From he knew, this other never even drank (so they said).
With a sigh, the finned equine walked slowly forward, so that he might not startle the drunken brute. "Excuse me, but what are you doing out here this early in the morning?" Rycaron inquired, keeping his smooth voice pitched low, so the noise might not add injury to an already hurting head. He would find out what had happened.
WC//359
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jan 17, 2016 0:44:43 GMT -6
What am I doing out in the streets at such an ungodly early hour, good sir? Why, fellow citizen, I am enjoying our red-blooded Talori freedom to play the market to my advantage! I needed distraction, and distraction did the market provide!And then what he really said was something along the lines of, "F'ckin'... excercisin' m'free right to..." And then Thaumas realized to whom, exactly, he was speaking. The sun was just coming up over Cascade's calm seas, the horizon lit anew in shades of rose and gold as the sun began its burning ascension into the sky. The bright, golden-copper chestnut horse before him was standing in what would have been perfect alignment with the birth of the new day, had they not been standing in the center of this small town. A street or two away, nearer the coast, and the godslight of morning would have risen like a halo around his fin-jawed face. And it was in the process of thus examining the speaker that Thaumas realized he'd seen that face before, with its unmistakable markings and the touch of their Wave-Mother at his throat. Somehow, he associated it with his mother. "You're... you work f'r... r'you n'Emissary?" words: 202 tags: Dream-Lark notes: lololol writing a drunk person is a little easier when you're also drunk protip |
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Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 17, 2016 7:53:14 GMT -6
He could almost see realization dawning on his companion's features, in that special way of drunk's with no control over their facial features. Which was good, because it also revealed this giant slab of currently gooey muscle retained some of his wits. Which was rather impressive, actually. Especially since it seemed the cursing might be dialed down a notch, and perhaps some rudeness as well. Though Cascade only knew if that would keep up, drunken fools were quite the unpredictable lot.
"Yes, I both am and work for, an Emissary. Rycaron is my name," the hippocampus replied evenly, tilting his head slightly as he continued to study the one before and below him. This roan was also graced by the Sea Mother, though not as obviously, for his fins were smaller, blending into his form better, his larger dorsal fin currently nearly hidden behind him. They aided his image of utter masculinity well. "You are the son on an Emissary, Thalassa, if memory serves. A Guardian," Ry commented, though here disdain touched features as he peered down at the stallion.
"So why are you drunk off your rocker and sitting in the street currently?" Words were not quite diplomatic this time, but a sight better than the phrasing he could have used, as well as tacking on that his parents would have been ashamed to see him in his current state. That might set the brute off, and Rycaron certainly didn't want to do that.
WC//245
Notes: rofl, good tip. Though that could mean you are in for quite a few dizzy nights ;p
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jan 17, 2016 13:06:07 GMT -6
"They were g'nna call -- they were -- I'm a Guardian!!" He stared at Rycaron with wide eyes and an expression begging sympathetic disbelief from the chestnut. Can you believe they were about to call me on me?And there's the rub of it all, you see. Because Thaumas was a Guardian, and Nereus had been a guardian, and now he had to think about his father in the past tense. The realization came like the foaming crest of a forty-foot swell, rolling quietly through the deep and as it crept closer and closer to shore, it rose like a giant out of the water to break on his conscious. It left him gasping for breath. And then, too, Rycaron had reminded him of something he'd willfully forgotten in his haste to leave Kiephis. "Ahhh, fuck." His mother, his poor mother, mourning alone in the watery tombs the loss of her beloved, and her only son nowhere to be found, having fled her side in his cowardice almost the moment of his sire's last breath. With a gargantuan effort, Thaumas heaved himself off the ground. He wobbled dangerously close to Rycaron on unsteady legs, trying to keep the chestnut Emissary in focus. "Not -- sitting," he said with the shame weighing down on him now in such a heavy load. "Gotta -- mum needs -- gotta get back t'mum." And so he set smartly off towards the beach and towards Kiephis, or at least he would have, except his progress was much slowed by the fact that he could not, in any portrayal of the phrase, "set smartly off" towards just about anything, and instead set rather unstably off making much good use of the walls of street-adjacent buildings. words: 289 tags: Dream-Lark notes: ahahaha! well, we might limit it to "tipsy," but i admit i'm not totally opposed to the idea. i tend to just have so much more muse! |
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Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 17, 2016 13:39:17 GMT -6
Unfortunately for Thaumas there was no sympathy in Rycaron for the other's current state. He still had no idea what had caused the other to turn into such a drunkard in the first place. However, he did realize quite quickly that he must have said the wrong thing, when the well of emotion rose up in the other. Aqua eyes caught the moisture in the other's gaze, saw him quickly gasping for breath, and he saw the sorrow.
What had happened to him? This wasn't some usual drunken binge, that much was clear now.
And then the other hippocampus was attempting to get to his hooves, and swaying dangerously. Ry wasn't sure if it would be a better idea to move out of the way, or try to offer support...he wasn't entirely sure his own more slender frame could handle the bulk of the other. He had to get back to his mother? Attention sharped once more, tail flicking behind him. A sigh escaped from chest when he saw the Guardian attempting to walk away, the state he was in he'd get no where. And he respected Thalassa too much to let her currently wayward son injure himself trying to get to her--if that's where he was going.
"Alright now, calm down. What has got you in such a state? You are going to hurt yourself if you keep this up," Ry announced, sighing again as he trotted forward, moving close so that he could help support the bulk of Thaumas and keep him a little more steady.
WC//259
{Rofl, I love Thaumas, the way you write him just makes my day xD}
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jan 17, 2016 17:19:10 GMT -6
"Ahhhh, mate," croaked Thaumas, welcoming Rycaron's offer of physical support with a liquor-enhanced level of enthusiasm. It had been a long time since he'd borrowed the structure of another horse's body to support his own, and he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened outside combat. And finally, though his newfound companion had asked since the moment of their meeting, the question of the hour finally found its way through the mess of his disorganized mind. What on earth are you doing here, you fool? In truth he'd been avoiding answering Rycaron on that subject, and even though Thaumas couldn't hardly follow one thought with its logical conclusion, later he'd realize how powerfully it spoke to the absolute impregnability of the emotional defenses the Guardian normally employed when, even stone drunk, his mind wouldn't let him give that personal information until the absolute moment when he could say nothing else and still hope to make an iota of sense. But it was a difficult thing to say. He'd never said "my father's dead" to anyone before, and the idea of it frightened him. He looked down at Rycaron, feeling the back of his throat start to burn in a precursor to falling tears, and then before he could finish his thought ("My -- my father -- my father's --") he felt his face growing hot and his heart breaking and he began to weep aloud, like a child. words: 240 tags: Dream-Lark notes: thank you so much! ry is a saint for putting up with him like this :'D |
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Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 22, 2016 11:41:58 GMT -6
The hippocampus attempted to suppress an 'oof' as Thaumas leaned against him. The other was so solid! He had to wonder just how far the Guardian had to go to get to his destination. Maybe he'd be able to call a couple of other Guardians, or maybe just one, and have them give a helping hoof? Where were they even headed? Rycaron knew next to nothing about what was currently going on, except that he had a very heavy drunk stallion leaning against him.
One who's jaw was flexing, as if he were working up to say something, but it kept failing at either forming in his throat or dropping from his lips. Ears angled to the side to better catch whatever sound would emerge from Thaumas, and it seemed like there might have been something vaguely resembling 'my' before all coherency was lost. Head jerked up a few inches as Rycaron realized Thaumas had devolved his current state. Tears were appearing in his eyes, his body had tensed, and he took a few large gulps of air before he began actually sobbing.
"Wave Mother help him," the emissary prayed gently, trying both not to look away from his companion but at the same time trying very much to do that exact same thing. What was he supposed to do now? The crying stallion made him extremely uncomfortable, and using the same calming tactics for a mare simply did not apply here.
"It'll be alright, whatever it is, and you don't have to tell me. Just let me know where we need to head, at least, when you are able?" Ry finally soothed, guessing that whatever had happened wasn't just some petty quarrel or bad day at training. Something had truly happened to shake this stallion up, and it hadn't been little. Perhaps now was not the best time to keep poking at what was clearly now a large, fresh wound.
WC//321
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jan 23, 2016 13:39:48 GMT -6
Everything seems to happen so much more slowly when you're drunk. Still, it took a good few minutes before Thaumas could get the honking, horn-like sobs of his double-bass grief under control. By this point, he was not only beginning to feel the first dull throbs of a headache (which always followed a good cry, for him) but was also starting to feel quite thirsty from the slight dehydration of a night drinking only alcohol and a morning of profuse weeping. Resting perhaps more of his weight on his new companion than he ought to have done, Thaumas took great gulping breaths of air as he came down from his fit of anguish and panic. As he caught his breath, the young Guardian nodded seriously, furrowing his brow and setting his jaw in an intoxicated effort to look more together than he actually was. "I musht -- I must return to Kiephis," he slurred, planting his feet determinedly as they walked towards the beach. They were only perhaps a couple of blocks away from the sandy azure shores now; he could see the line of the ocean's horizon far away in the distance as they rounded the corner (rather slowly and painfully) onto a north-south avenue. The happy split of rosy-golden sky and shimmering water brought a fresh wave of guilt upon him, and he began to tear up again as his wicked mind conjured an image of his mother, sad and alone at his father's bedside beneath the waves, surrounded by her pain unable to see this beauty. "I shouldn'a left my mum." He'd later claim that it was the water in his eyes that caused him to lose sight of the ground (a suspicious excuse even for the most severely-disabled victim of vertigo) but more likely than not it was the swimming in his head and the beer in his veins that tripped him, and the bulky stallion nearly sent himself face-first into the road. words: 326 tags: Dream-Lark notes: i think i might have him pass out on the beach if he's allowed to get there, as an ending spot maybe? and whether ry stays with him through it or not (i don't care either way, i figure no real harm can come to him there) we could do maybe another little flashback thread sometime that takes place after this one? i really like the idea of them being fairly close friends, if you're up for it. ^^; |
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Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 24, 2016 7:35:09 GMT -6
He was trying so hard to keep himself together, that while it didn't quite work, it was an obviously valiant effort considering his current state of intoxication. Ocean colored eyes widened slightly as Thaumas declared he had to get to Kiephis. His words may have been slurred, but their meaning was quite clear and filled with determination, the point added by the sorrow still coloring everything. That was the house of the healers, where the more injured and quite sick resided. What had happened? Had Thalassa been injured? He saw the tears pooling up once more in the equally blue eyes of his companion, and rather feared the worst. Why shouldn't he have left his mother? What had happened?
But it was clear at this point that Rycaron would get nothing of clarity out of the guardian in the current state he was in. He was too drunk, too emotional, but that was understandable. The emissary decided he would just have to find out what had happened at a later date, and he knew he would before too long. Gaze transferred to the path ahead, to see the new morning sun glinting off the water in hues of pinks and purple, touched with orange. Such a lovely morning, to have started with such sadness. It was not right.
Unable to think of anything else to say for once, the hippocampus simply continued to help the other stallion along their current route, relieved when they're hooves touched the soft grains of the sand. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Thaumas drowning, given that he was blessed as a hippocampus. It was just as Rycaron was beginning to wonder how they would manage to get to Kiephis, that he felt the bulky stallion beside him stumble, tripping over something (or perhaps nothing at all, given his condition), and begin to go down. The golden equine shifted his own weight, desperately attempting to keep it from a hard fall, and managed that. Thank the Wave Mother for the soft sand beneath them, Ry mused as he sneezed from the grains that rushed up from Thaumas's impact.
With a sucked in breath, the emissary got quickly to his feet, blinking as he stared down at his companion. "Are you alright?"
WC//378
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Post by strixx-variaa on Jan 24, 2016 18:37:28 GMT -6
"AHMMMMafuckin'seal." 'I'm a seal, mate,' is probably what Thaumas meant to say. It was a common enough expression, not unlike the phrase 'fat and happy,' which made use of the grey seals and brown sea lions common around Aquore's coastline and their inevitable fluffy fatness and happy barks. It was something out of Thaumas's childhood, too. He couldn't count the times he and his parents spent a weekend on the beach, away from the Inaria estate. Beaches and deep rivers are met fondly within the hippocampus community for obvious reasons, and his own family was no exception. It was always after they'd eaten their packed lunch, after a morning full of swimming and exploring and singing and laughing, that Nereus would roll onto his side in the sand and Thaumas would mirror him. The question (and its answer) were both routine and deeply loved. With nearly-closed eyes and a contented grin, under the blazing golden sun, Nereus would ask his son, "What's wrong with you?" as if daring Thaumas to list a grievance against their day of paradise. And without fail, the little earthen-colored colt would respond with barely-concealed laughter, "I'm a seal, dad." And Nereus would respond with a sigh, "Yeah, me too." And that was that, and they'd both have a nap while Thalassa read in the shade or something. And now, fifteen years later, Thaumas found himself on the beach (they might've visited this one when he was a child; why not?) under the gentle, warm light of a new sun to the east, an absolute travesty in the sand, telling this new companion of his (where had he seen this bloke before?) that he was a fucking seal when he obviously was anything but. "Just fuckin' -- just -- " It might have been alarming to a third party how quickly Thaumas was rendered entirely unconscious. I mean, alright, there was maybe a minute or two in between his final drunken stutterings and true loss of consciousness, but during any such time he'd be incapable of most anything except a weak, disoriented groan. And so, at least for the time being, Guardian Thaumas, son of Nereus and Thalassa, might indeed look (from a distance) not unlike the seal he so ardently wanted to be. words: 377 tags: Dream-Lark notes: ♥ |
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Post by Dream-Lark on Jan 30, 2016 9:02:52 GMT -6
A seal? A confused expression appeared on the hippocampi's visage, head tilting. What in Cascade's name did he mean by that he was a seal? Rycaron supposed the other might look like one, in a certain light. The coloring was nearly right, and he was fairly round, sitting there on the beach beside the azure waters. But still...a seal? However, he'd never really get the chance to ask this day, for it seemed as if his new companion was fading quickly. He was stuttering, trying to finish whatever thought was floating about in that great, broad noggin of his, before it appeared lost in a drawn out groan.
The emissary started forward with concern when he saw the bulky form collapse fully onto it's side, but breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Thaumas was only well and truly passed out. It probably felt better than being awake for him, at this point. Aqua colored eyes squinted into the horizon, judging the time. If he galloped, he could make his appointment just slightly late...but he it meant he couldn't stay. And really, the guardian shouldn't just be left alone here on the beach, completely insensate. However...he could drop by the nearest post, have a fellow guardian come and check upon Thaumas. They could keep an eye on him, help him out when he woke up. They'd know him better, be able to figure out what had driven this poor, splintered soul to his current condition.
With a deep breath, and a concerned look, Rycaron said a silent farewell to the snoring seal, before turning and sprinting back toward the town. He had a guardian to find, and then an appointment to make, along with a very good excuse as to why he was late.
WC//298
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