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  Summer, Year 3    Leviticus Era
The new Firstborn Vihaan is visiting the horses of Carinae in Viridian Fields!
The Lost One has appeared needing help of your characters in this site wide plot!
Congratulations to Ritsika, the new player of newly mortal firstborn, Cora!
Welcome new Empress Kashmir of Heretic!
The Red Wastes now has a sub-forum of its own! All Lyrus members can post there but outsiders beware!
The training battle between Gotham City and Caelian has been decided on a winner!


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Open  That Shit's Broken
Commoner

Aggressor
 Adult, 4 yrs  Mare
 15.3 hh  900 lbs
98 Posts 470 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Dec 22 2017, 11:22 PM.
Reply  
#1


The fields spread out below her in the hazy winter light. The grassy expanse, with a lake in the centre, was home to the Carinae herd. One that Benna herself knew nothing of. Well, she barely knew anything of the other herds either. But that was about to change. She was a spy, and what do spies do? They gather information.

Benna had a plan. Well, an idea anyway. The trees on the edge of the lake provided her with the perfect standing point. Her wings were tucked into her sides, balance poised delicately as she stood upon one of the thicker branches, hidden amongst the slightly denser patch of thicket. Her blue eyes flitted across what she could see of the land from here, quietly assessing but coming up with no real conclusions.

The herd seemed quiet. Small, even. But she couldn't draw anything of importance from simply watching. No. She needed to get closer. To infiltrate.

In true Benna fashion, the young dragon leapt from her branch, letting gravity pull her rapidly to the ground below. When her wings did open, it is only to catch her fall at the last second.

But there was a problem. It came in the form of a ripping sensation, the membrane of her left wing snagging on the low branches of a wing and tearing it apart between the second and third digits. The wound is small, but it costs her gliding ability, refusing to slow her descent to a stable speed. Her body reached the ground in a horrid slam, but she relaxed her limbs enough to prevent serious injury.

She tucked in her legs and wings, rolling towards the lake and into the open air of the fields rather than becoming a crumpled and bloodied heap at the base of a tall pine tree.

A few moments of stillness, catching her breath, pass before the young dragon raised her head again. Blood poured from a shallow cut above her blue eye. Facial wounds bled profusely anyway, but the white of her face exaggerated the gushing of life fluid.

Perfect.

Ah, but it actually hurt.

blood guts & chocolate cake
OOC|  Arête and anyone else who wants some Benna baby!



Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 6 yrs  Mare
 17.2 hh  1100 lbs
53 Posts 1,505 points
 Randalin Offline
Posted on Jan 12 2018, 12:23 AM.
Reply  
#2

   Arête

There is little here in the Fields to hold her interest today, even the air feels stagnant and bored. Pale eyes glance around almost lazily in their efforts during her daily circuit around the borders. She pines for something though she remains unclear as to what it is she craves. Adventure? Perhaps, but her place is here now and she dare not neglect her duty to the herd. Her mind stops short at the startling sound of a body crashing into the ground; having heard the sound more times than she’d care to admit, she is well versed in it. The particular way an equine shape meets the earth, the unique thud and resulting tremble as the dirt becomes spread out much like a ripple in a lake. 

A shift in the direction of her stroll is all it takes before the wind sings a song painted in crimson and iron. Blood. It is not long, mere moments, before she sees the face of a winged stranger with several lines of red making tracks down her white features. The borders are closed. She looks the mare over, gaze narrowed in suspicion. Naturally huskier vocals spill into the silence. ”Who are you?” Arête offers no introduction for herself, content to let the trespasser announce her reasoning for crossing into the Fields before providing any information of her own. The wound to her forehead, not enough of an incentive to suggest the use of healing magic; she is no charitable hostess. No, she waits in suitable silence for the woman to speak, eyes periodically checking for further interlopers. 




"Speech." | Thoughts.
 
OOCBenna
_________________________________________________________________



Do not hesitate to power play within reason! 

If you are unsure, PM me before you post and I will let you know.



Commoner

Aggressor
 Adult, 4 yrs  Mare
 15.3 hh  900 lbs
98 Posts 470 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 13 2018, 1:00 PM.
Reply  
#3


Her head spun a little, the remaining dizziness from her crash landing fading slowly. It wasn't enough to warrant any worry, but still. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. The stinging pain in her wing grew as she adjusted herself, regaining her senses as the overall shock of the impact faded. But the young dragon wasn't given long to explore it.

A mare - and a particularly beautiful one at that - had approached her. When the blue mare's gaze narrowed onto Benna, her gut clenched slightly. Not from fear - the young dragon never felt the grip of fear - but from a sense of dread, almost. This definitely hadn't been such a good idea. No doubt she reeked of the Iron from the Valley. It would be almost impossible not to notice the harsh smell, the damning scent that proclaimed her to be a loyal follower of the Heretics. But Benna was Benna, and well. She was Benna.

Her face widened into a childish grin, beaming and bright despite the obvious facial injury and stinging pain she felt at the gesture. 

"I'm Benna!" she spoke, her voice filled with the same childish glee as always. She may have the body of an adult now, but Benna would always be a child in both heart and mind.

It was then she moved her body, rocking it to the side to untangle her wings from beneath her body. And it was then the smile dropped. Her wing. Her precious - okay, maybe not-so-precious - wing was torn more than she'd originally first assessed. Yes, the wound was simply stuck between the second and third digits it. But it was larger than the inch or so she'd suspected. The membrane was torn into two limp sheets of clingfilm almost all the way along, and it hurt just to look at it.

Of course, she knew the skin would heal. She'd burnt them away entirely before, leaving just the skeletal structures of her digits behind - hell, that had been the most pain she'd ever been in - and they regrew after a few, slow months. But still. It was a jarring thing to see. 
blood guts & chocolate cake
OOC|  Arête





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