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Open  [ I didn't think it could be true ]
Lord

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 Adult, 5 yrs  Stallion
 17.2 hh  1800 lbs
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Posted on Mar 05 2018, 3:52 AM.
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#1

Kyrian

I think I'm in love,,
 
He had to be dreaming.

Nothing, not even his wildest dreams, could come close to describing how Kyrian felt in this moment. Filled to the brine with energy, looking upon the world as if it held new beauty; he was untethered. Wings the colors of dusk were spread wide to embrace the comforting caress of the wind as he tossed back his dark head, golden eyes closed to better taste the salt of the ocean in the air. Forever the scent would remind him of his mate. Indigo tipped hair fluttered and snapped against his silver hued neck, the muscular arch as well defined as the rest of his baroque form. An unsettling weightlessness encompassed his whole body and left him breathless where he stood upon the black sand of the Prismatic Lagoon shore. Gravity had no hold on him.

Yet the draft stood rooted in place. He was suddenly and firmly one with the island, the sea, the air, and the wild passions of his heart. In all the ceaseless days and nights spent roaming the rogue had been seeking something to fill the void that gaped in his soul and he felt as though his answer had found him. She stood before him in the shape of a precious sea-gem that was crafted into living flesh; Øydis. In his heart, he saw her as a goddess of land and a maiden of the ocean because of the enormous generosity and strength held captive within such a feminine form.

They shared a single night of ardor together and he was snared for life. Though he remained unmoving it felt as though the earth listed and wavered beneath his cloven hooves. It was an untamed and ethereal feeling that left him yearning for more. Slowly his eyes opened and a feral expression etched his features when he looked upon the waves for he saw her glistening in the briny tide. The harsh lines around his eyes and lips softened the longer he gazed upon her. Above them the pale blue sky was a limitless expanse with only whispers of ghost white wisps that barely remember being clouds interrupting it. The air was crisply cool but the marine breeze held tender warmth that kept them from shivering. Instead of roaring and rushing, the breakers were whispering shhh, shhh as they smoothed the beach clean of any impressions. Altogether, the day was beautiful and the company was even more so.

By some unspoken agreement, the couple had meandered to the northern bend of the territory and sought to leave Elysium together. The pegasus tensed before bursting forward into a ground eating gallop. His brawny legs pummeled the gritty sand and sent froths of seafoam splashing upward as he raced in the in between, where land met water. He flapped his wings mightily in a rhythmic cadence before launching into the air. Spiraling and swooping low, the stallion made a show of his flight. Strong, white teeth were bared in a fierce grin. He felt youthful and ancient soaring above the cerulean waves. Attentive gaze finding Øydis amongst the surf he found himself looking out to sea, and a frown furrowed his brow because there appeared to be furiously riotous whitecaps in the distance. Flipping his upper lip, the stud scented the air for a taste of a storm but could only detect the powerful flavor of the ocean. Still the sky was serenely peaceful so he ignored the instinct that tentatively warned him.

Hours stretched by as if they were seconds or years, he couldn’t tell which. He only knew he was savoring each moment. Kyrian was tirelessly flying and his sea maiden luxuriated in the buoyant waters while they progressed ever northward while idly moving further from shore. The shore was a gray sliver decorated with verdant foliage separated from them by an undulating cobalt stretch.

When the first booming clap of thunder made its crescendo nearly atop them it caught the pair completely unaware. Burnished gold eyes rolled wide when the winged equine reared midair to look over his shoulder. He was met with a blast of frigid, wet wind that slapped him harshly across the face as if to scold him for his inattentiveness. The gale held such force that his flightpath actually wavered and the strong pinion feathers strained to keep the brute on a steady trajectory. Rain like ice pelted upon his back from a tremendous black cloud that materialized rather magically, in the mind of the bewildered stallion. The downpour was a thick, heavy wave that immediately lowered his range of visibility and the tightening in his gut happened simultaneously. Still the winds tried their mightiest to knock him from the sky as he turned his gaze once more to the sea and, at first, meticulously scanned for his precious lady. Each heartbeat came faster than the last. His breath was a rush bursting from his frightened lungs. He could not find her.

"Øydis!" The bellow was swallowed by the scream of the tempest. Like a fearsome creature, the storm howled in laughter at his attempt to dive toward the sea, for a closer look, and sent a bolt of lightning before him. Streaking faster than any living being could move, the line of plasma burned his eyes and he faltered when he closed them against the blinding pain. Every hair on his body stood on end. He felt charged with power yet utterly powerless to harness the energy. His eyes were open. It was completely black. Within the same breath, the next sound of thunder came and deafened him. The dominance of nature left his heart pounding against his ribs as his teeth rattled with the vibrations sent out by the thunderclap. Uselessly, he cried out, "Øydis!"

Even he couldn’t hear his own voice over the wailing of the typhoon – or maybe it was because of the thunder – but he didn’t have time to wonder if he only imagined shaping her name with his lips because he was plummeting. Plumed tail spread every feather wide and valiantly tried to aid the pegasus into a controlled descent but his twilight wings were soaked and couldn’t seem to catch a single straight air current. The twists and spirals were painful, out of control. He couldn’t tell up from down except that the rain must be coming from above, even though it was stinging him from all sides as he fought the ever changing winds. He didn’t have time to be angry or fearful anymore. He only had time to be clever if he was to survive. And he must survive to see her. Sable pinnae flattened to his poll as he curled his lip in concentration before forcing a deep inhale and tucking his wings tight to his barrel. All around was chaos; the loudness of the rain, wind, and thunder slowly dulled to white noise and the pegasus relied upon his intuition to guide him dangerously close to the ocean’s surface. At the last second he snapped open his wings and he would have made it. Except it wasn’t water beneath him. It wasn’t air around him either.

Kyrian crashed into a cluster of trees. They bowed down to the wind of the foul tempest. Their trunks bent to their fullest and the unyielding ended up broken. Leaves were ripped greedily from their firm hold, they hissed at the wind as it tried to take them all. Fruit and sand were cast out to sea to placate the hunger of some hidden monster but the storm raged with the anger of winter coming to an end. The still figure of a roan could be seen draped and pinned within the embrace of the grove. Though his limbs splayed naturally, the lay of his wings was horribly unnatural. Blood was quickly diluted from the many scraps, cuts, and gashes marking him from his heavenward fall as the rain continued to soak him. Kyrian was on a mesa far from the mainland and scarcely the movement of his ribs could be seen.

 
"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Øydis This has been long overdue. Anyone is welcome to find him.
Words | number


Rogue

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 Adult, 5 yrs  Stallion
 16.0 hh  1000 lbs
18 Posts 210 points
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Posted on Mar 05 2018, 10:16 PM.
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#2

Glenn was trying so fervently to be doing something productive with his life. He did not know what his real purpose in Elysium was, so he was trying to find it. From a young age, he had been taught to be someone of worth. Well, how could he be someone of worth without doing something worthwhile? It was like a strange catch-22 of sorts. Successful horses did not sit around on a daily basis; they stood for something at least. But all that the male had been doing was…absolutely nothing. He had tried to catch the attention of a pretty lady in the Dragon’s Ridge, but was unsure of his odds with her. He took a chance and had heard nothing back from her so far. It might all have been for naught. But he would continue pushing forward or he would get left behind in the dust. All of this searching might make him look like something of a busybody, Glenn knew that. There were bound to be occasions where he stuck his nose where it did not belong. But at least he would not be like some stationary barnacle on the face of a swimming sea creature.

Speaking of the sea, it was very intriguing in this place. It started out rather placid and calm - and usually always was from what he had heard from other horses – to turning into a tumultuous and voracious beast of a land. What had caused such a significant change in such a short amount of time, Glenn was unsure. A lagoon sounded like a place of leisure and relaxation, not biting winds and riotous waters. So it was quite a surprise to the Hackney-like man when he was just strolling along the edges of the land, and then he played witness to a rapidly changing atmosphere. His initial intention was not to actually go into the land, rather just to walk by and see if he could be of any use to anyone. But the way that the weather switched threw him acutely off guard. He too was pelted by the rain and tugged on in every direction by the wind. It was as if ghostly hands were trying to rip the multiple barbs straight off of his body, and leave a mess of scars while doing it.  
       
The stallion himself could not fly, but he saw and heard the other fall roughly from the air. Glenn only caught fragmented flecks of speech, which could only be interpreted as calls for aid. They certainly were not excited exclamations of fun, that was for sure. Before his brain could even process it, Glenn’s legs were leading him to the drop site. His long appendages moved at a feverish pace, his gait stretching to great lengths to close the gap quickly between them. Glenn did not do things like this for accolades or glory, but a strong desire to help and be helpful. If there was something for him to do at any and all times, he would do it. There were moments that the stallion even thought that sleep was useless, though his body refuted that notion thankfully. He would abide by bodily restraints, and that was it. Call it overcompensation for lack of meeting other expectations or whatever. But that was just Glenn and how Glenn behaved.

Going as quickly as possible, the stallion assessed the situation as best he could. His blue gray eyes were slightly hooded against the elements, and his expression was stern, but Glenn persisted. His mane and tail were tussled to and fro, cracking repeatedly against his light bay hide, but they had to be ignored for the moment. The small white star on his forehead, normally hidden indefinitely by his forelock, whipped into view time and time again. Ask and ye shall receive right? Glenn asked for something to do, and asked for someone to help not too long before. He just hoped that his request would not be fulfilled at the other stallion’s detrimental expense. Glenn navigated through the forest, stepping high over fallen branches and ducking low under the bent ones. This was a disaster, through and through. Glenn was able to remain levelheaded and maintain a sense a calm though, and focus on his newly endowed mission. He plowed through the obstacles dividing him and the roan, constantly drumming up what his proposed plan of action would be as he went along. ‘Alright, you got what you asked for, Glenn. Now what do we do about it? And maybe next time we just help a little old granny cross a stream instead of battling hurricanes, yeah?’ his mind told him. “Yeah, yeah, sure, sure, grannies and all that later,” Glenn spoke aloud. “First and foremost, I gotta check on the frequent flyer.”

Finally arriving near the roan, Glenn looked Kyrian over, and made a mental checklist. Obviously injuries like cuts, bruises, contusions, and lacerations were expected. It was the awkward positioning of the stallion’s wings that made Glenn start to worry a bit. He inhaled sharply, his gaze pulling away for moment before steering back slowly. The way it was looking, the dude might never fly again. Or it was going to take a lot of physical therapy to do so; what a shame that would be too, having the wings but not being able to use them. But therapy and flying were now secondary on the list of things to do and try. If the stallion was not alive, then clearly he could not be rehabilitated, nor could he fly anyways. Being that he did not have a stethoscope or hands to test for a pulse, Glenn had to improvise with a small stick. He attempted to place it flat on the bigger brute’s side to see if there was opposition to it. The rise and fall of any breathing would not let the stick remain balanced.

After making assessments, Glenn decided to shield the other from the rain, and then perhaps some actual work could be done. The droplets of water did not look like they were going to let up anytime soon. Judging from the sheer size of Kyrian, there was no way that Glenn was going to be able to lift him or even drag him anywhere though. There was quite a sizable difference between the two of them. The Hackney was a thinker and tinkerer though, and would probably have taken up an engineering position if horses could. So he then began building a small shelter around and above both of their heads as a makeshift shelter.

ooc - Kyrian


Lord

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 Adult, 5 yrs  Stallion
 17.2 hh  1800 lbs
162 Posts 2,848 points
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Posted on Mar 07 2018, 4:24 AM.
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#3

Kyrian

I tried (I tried),

In my dreams you're the duchess and I'm the duke,,
 
Unrelenting, the tempest continued to howl its rage upon the lagoon as it sucked whatever spring heat was previously present from the air, leaving only the barest recollection of warmth. Each gust was a burst of vicious force. The shore was a completely different vision from the glimpse of spring beauty that was seen earlier. Where only hours before the dark charcoal sand was gleaming like polished obsidian, the coarse granules were now blacker than a moonless night and particles were scattering further inland to find any nook or crevasse to nestle into. This left an abrasive layer that would chafe even the hardiest of creatures, especially their tongues as they sought to eat. And the ever persistent driving rain filled the air with its drone of splattering. Intermixed with the ghoulish wailing of the wind, it was such a cacophony that it made one wish they could remember what silence felt like because the noise was vibrating through to their very bones.

As storms went, this one was foul. The anger of Mother Nature seemed determined to take whatever payment it could from whomever it could. The baroque form remained draped as he was over the broken trees that had caught him during his fall. He was simply collateral damage in the grand scheme of indifferent weather. Apathetic to his future plight, the squall continued to make its way up the coast where it searched greedily for something more to satisfy its hunger.

It was the scent of fish, salt, and wet death that awoke him. Water was in his ears and soaked him thoroughly. Grit rimmed his closed eyes and, for a moment, he feared that he was blind until he managed to blink – once, twice. Only the blurry colors of green, brown, and black greeted him and the shapes were even less distinct. But this concern for his sight was swiftly replaced with a far greater pain that engulfed him upon trying to lift his head. Naturally, the pegasus had automatically tensed his dexterous shoulder muscles to guide his wings to their usual resting place upon his back; however, this casual movement caused his fractures to shift and his body’s instinctive response was to knock him out.

His breathing became elevated. The dark nares flared wide enough to show a tinge of red within as his heartbeat began to race. It was a few long moments before the citrine gaze manages to open for a second time. They were barely more than narrow slits like the golden harvest moon peering from behind thick autumn clouds. This time the stallion dared not move. Oddly, he couldn’t feel raindrops upon his face anymore. He felt them pattering against the rest of him so it was a peculiar sensation. His eyelids were heavy. They kept closing in spite of his best efforts to keep them open or to open them wider. "Oyedess?" he rasped weakly when he couldn’t keep them open. Slurred, harsh and coaxing, the name was spoken as if by the voice of the sea, which continued to try and soothe him with louder whispers of shhh, shhhh.

When he gathered equal amounts of strength and courage, the roan heaved his head up. The slightly roman sloped profile bobbed and weaved, achingly uncomfortable, because his neck didn’t appear any steadier than a newborn foal’s. His lips ended up kissing solid ground and he gratefully rested there. Thanking the unmoving terrain beneath him for supporting the suddenly unbearable weight of his body. It was then that he noticed hooves. They weren’t his, either, since they were round and solid unlike his pointed, cloven ones. But these hooves were attached to legs and those legs had barbs. His thoughts were piling one on top of the other and he couldn’t seem to sift through them. The rogue ended up murmuring incoherently, "Hafta findher."

Lifting his skull seemed much harder than before but he managed, only by the skin of his teeth. The motion caused his back and shoulders to tense, as his neck limply attempted to keep him upright, and the pain left him wanting to wail but unable to remember how to breathe. His vision was swallowed by darkness but he gritted his teeth to keep awake. Untamable because of the pain, he looked over his shoulder to where his wings lay and visibly jerked. Memories and reality started to merge into a clearer picture of what happened and he slowly began to recall where he was. The draft began to realize the gravity of the situation and panic pounced, ready to sink its claws into his flesh.

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Glenn you are such a good Samaritan <3 To clarify, Kyrian was trying to say Øydis. Then he was saying “Have to find her.”
Words | number


Rogue

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 16.0 hh  1000 lbs
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Posted on Mar 11 2018, 9:26 PM. (Edited: Mar 11 2018, 9:30 PM by Glenn.)
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#4

Glenn still could not help but wonder what had angered the lagoon so much in this way. He kept rolling that thought around in his head: why was this happening? Usually there was some reason or causality that made such things happen like this. From a scientific standpoint, this deviant mishmash was due to changes in weather patterns and seasons. The temporal variances could then be classified as nothing but normal. The season changes led to harsh weather-like changes from location to location. While some places began to get hotter, others began to get colder, and vice versa. The world spinning on its axis was the only reason. From a more religious standpoint, one might believe that some kind of higher power or strange deity was responsible for these changes in the atmosphere. It was a well-known fact around Elysium that horses believed in deities and others above them. Only a few moments after the stallion entered into the lands did he figure that out. Those horses with this belief system often attributed changes like these to the wraith of their overseer. That made things a little more complicated. Not only would there be a why question in that case, but also a whom, what, and a when as well. In Glenn’s mind, there was another thing happening that he could not exactly put his hoof on. It was like an itch that he could not scratch on the inside of his brain. But he would have time to think about causes and effects later; he had to focus on getting his newest comrade out of the danger zone first.

With all the speed of Speedy Gonzalez the mouse, Glenn went about fortifying the shelter above them. It was nothing fancy or anything meant to be remotely permanent; its only job was to offer a minute shield from the elements. The spiked stallion shoved large tree trunks in a semi-circle, and found random objects to hold them in place. Normally Glenn was a man of excellence and precision; he wanted things to be done well by his hand. Everything that he did was a reflection upon him, and he wanted it to be good. But it was either make an aesthetically beautiful beach cabana and end up with a dead draft horse, or build a shoddier one and have the dude live to tell the tale later. Only a numbskull without a heart would have chosen the former option. Glenn hitched things together in a manner that was good enough to where it would not cave in on them, or fall outward and leave them exposed again. He nudged it with some of his body weigh just to make sure, and then went on about more pressing matters.

The man entered the shack and looked over the roan again. He seemed to be trying, and only partially succeeding, at lifting his head. This was both a relief and a little unnerving for Glenn. It was a relief because the dude had not died in the initial process of all of this. Falling from monumental heights was enough to take out the best of them. It crushed bones, punctured organs, and stopped hearts. But, somehow, and by some force of will, the pegasus had survived it. The disparaging part of the whole thing was also that the stallion was fighting to lift his head though. He could have a concussion, internal bleeding, and more than Glenn could even know about. He was no doctor; he was not trained in the medical nursing field. Honestly, he was starting to doubt that he would be of any good use to the other stallion other than being a rain shield. Even trees could do that much, and half of them were torn up from their very roots. Glenn’s mouth twisted to the side in thought, wondering what his next plan of action would be. Fortunately it was decided for him in the beginning pronunciations of words from Kyrian.

“Oyedess?” Glenn repeated in a gentle, yet confused manner. “What exactly is an Oyedess my man? Can you tell me?” The light bay stallion wondered if the blue roan was speaking in a different language.  He did not realize at first that Kyrian was speaking the name of the woman he loved. Her name was not like “Suzy” “Samantha” or “Sally” and thus was not acknowledged as a name initially, rather a foreign tongue. The second phrase also went right over the barbed stallion’s head first before being processed as English. He spoke the words over and over again, trying to work them out. “Hafta findher. Hafta findher. Hafta find her? Have to find her? Oh, is this Oyedess is who you are looking for?” Glenn said, finally coming to the realization. His front right hoof struck the ground due to the fact that he had made some headway. But the condition that the other stallion was in…did not look too great to say the very least. He could not really hold his head up, and his body would not be any easier. It would be like a mouse trying to lift a five hundred pound weight. Glenn knew what it was like to be in a desperate situation though. He obviously did not know the relationship between Kyrian and Øydis; heck he did not even know how to properly pronounce the mare’s name yet. But he knew that this woman was important to the stallion somehow. They had to be reunited as quickly as possible, but how?

“You look to be in pretty rough shape right now Frequent Flyer,” Glenn said assigning the nickname to the roan, “But we will get you to your lady somehow, I promise you that. First, we can get your wounds cleaned up and bandage your wings. They are definitely bent out of shape. How about that, sound good?” Glenn was trying to make conversation with Kyrian in order to keep him conscious. With his lolling head and blurred speech, blacking out again would not be good.

ooc - Kyrian Aww thanks, Glenn and I try <3


Lord

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 Adult, 5 yrs  Stallion
 17.2 hh  1800 lbs
162 Posts 2,848 points
 Ritsika Offline
Posted on Mar 14 2018, 6:39 PM.
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#5

Kyrian

And your blunts are always loose

So I'm in charge of rolling dutches,,
 
The voice wasn’t one he recognized. At least, the draft didn’t think he should recognize the masculine tones but the noise of the wind, waves, and rain was also distorting his hearing enough that he could be mistaken. He was overstimulated by the uproar of the storm and too groggy to properly process the situation. Eyes as bright as sunfire winked out of sight as heavy lids the color of coal closed. Long onyx lashes fluttered when he determinedly forced them to open. In order that he might try and catch a firmer glimpse of reality, if only the world would stop shifting, he peered through the narrow slits.

A film of darkness seemed to have settled upon them, this stranger and him. The brute couldn’t distinguish the different between sky and sea; both were a riot of gray and deep, angry blue. It was only after that did he register he could focus on objects with a little more success than before. They seemed to be in some sort of shelter. Listening to the calm, reoccurring sound of the stranger’s voice, the roan wanted to nod his head or say yes because that is exactly what he needed to be doing – he needed to find Øydis. Yet he felt as if he was made of stone. The burden of speaking would sap the rest of his strength and leave him a shell upon the shore.

The sight of his ruined wings was unbelievable. He was the prey of some cruel night terror. At any moment he would be gently awoken by the satin soft nuzzling of his siren. The phantom touch would start at his withers and slowly travel up his neck until she would press her lips against his cheek. She would have a small knowing smile curving her heather lips and her amethyst orbs would be filled to the brim with emotions waiting to be confessed. They would continue their leisurely wandering and he would shower her with affection throughout the afternoon. He would be happy. If only he would wake up.

Each breath became more labored than the last. Citrine eyes grew rounder with fright as his heartbeat thudded out an unsteady rhythm. The stallion standing near to him was speaking again. Though the dread stole most of what was being said, the wounded draft heard enough to stave off the hysteria weighing in his gut like heavy, cold stones. Opening his maw to speak, giving a mighty effort to lift his gaze upward, the rogue needed to close it and swallow a few times before his parched tongue could form the words, "Y-yes, th-thank you." Coarse and sonorous, the timbers of his voice trembled from the sting of the briny water that had abraded his throat.

Stout limbs tucked themselves under the heavy body. He dared not stretch out his front legs to attempt standing because the thought of falling, even this close to the ground, was disconcerting. Flashes of black and sparks of white still danced in his vision if he moved his head too quickly, which constituted faster than a snail. But he was feeling less faint so long as he didn’t consider his circumstances too long. Instead, the dusk winged pegasus focused on small, segmented objectives. Like the scent of blood permeating the humid air. "I-is that m-myy blood," he gasped for breath and struggled to continue, "o-or yours?" Never had his ribs been this sore or his body been in such pain before.

One might consider it odd that he was worried about the welfare of this nameless stranger when he was in such terrible condition yet the loner had a compassionate heart. He was used to being the one offering help. Being on the receiving end of help was uncertain territory but he was stubborn enough to work with what he was dealt. "We n-need to stop the bleeding," he cautioned. He would deal with the wings later. He couldn't bare the thought of them just yet. Even this evasive thinking had his sable ears flattening to his poll in distress and his leonine tail curled uneasily before resting upon the ground once again. Casting his gaze outward, he squinted into the rain to see if he could spot anything that might work as a bandage or clotting agent. If only I wasn't unsteady, he thought to himself. Then he noticed a thick covering of moss upon a tree trunk not too far from them. "Perhaps that moss," he winced when he motioned with his head in the direction of the absorbent material. 

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Glenn 


Rogue

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 Adult, 5 yrs  Stallion
 16.0 hh  1000 lbs
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Posted on Mar 15 2018, 11:50 PM. (Edited: Mar 15 2018, 11:51 PM by Glenn.)
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#6

It appeared that the winged stallion was fading in and out of awareness the longer they remained in one place. The question of whether they should move back into the rain or stay in the shelter kept coming up in Glenn’s mind. He could honestly say that he had never been in something like this. Had he been in a storm before? Yes. Had he felt pelting rain against his coat? Absolutely. But had Glenn witnessed a random storm from nowhere, with backbiting rain, and Pegasus felling power? No way. This was actually the first time that Glenn had been near a winged horse too. The semi-bright contrast of Kyrian’s eyes against his dark fur made Glenn hopeful that he was trying to stay alert though. It was worth going through the motions of getting the other stallion healthy if Kyrian was willing to try and survive. Being that words were spoken to Glenn he was somewhat confident in that. “Glenn at your service and here to help,” the stag said proudly, as he swished his tail behind him. But how long they had to get things under control was undefined, and then there was the subject of blood on the air.

Glenn gave himself a quick once over, his gray eyes zipping over his frame hurriedly, and he thought the worst for a moment. Had he hurt himself during this whole process somehow? Was it possible that he had not been careful enough and was bleeding out unknowingly? It certainly did not feel like anything was wrong or out of place on him. Glenn could not feel anything oozing or gaping on him, and no crimson dappled his dusky coat. It would be easy to tell if something went on prior to, but it did not. He could not feel stinging or smarting wounds at all. That enabled him to breathe a short sigh of relief and be grateful that he was alright. That was a good sign. Everything was still functioning as it was supposed to on his end. They did not need two of them suffering in pain from this whole ordeal.

But the good news for Glenn meant that there might not be good news for Kyrian. That very thought made Glenn flinch slightly. He did not want to be the bearer of bad news, but he had to be realistic. A little white lie could turn into a big, bad mistake, and the both of them already had enough on their plates. That was like telling a zombie that their right arm was entirely chewed off, but they would be okay because they had another one to use. Glenn shook his head side to side before saying what he did not want to say. He could not exactly tell the extent of the wounds, only that they had to be fixed. “It is not me…so…I think that you might be the one bleeding,” Glenn said with uncertainty. He just made an acquaintanceship with the dark male, so there was no telling how he would react exactly. One could only hope that he would not panic too much, though it would be justified if that were the case.

The panicking did not seem to occur though either because 1) the other stallion had a strong pain tolerance, or 2) he knew how to handle crazy situations like this. Whichever one it was, it was beneficial to them both. They were similar in that manner at least; they could remain calm in the face of adversity. And what is more, Kyrian slightly impressed Glenn by offering up suggestions to help out, even in his state. The barbed stallion would have to offer up his kudos later though; there was something more to do, mainly taking Kyrian’s suggestion. The moss was the easiest thing within reach and it probably had other benefits too. It was wet, so it could sponge off all surface wounds. But also its potentially sticky properties could bandage things up. Perfect. “Yeah, I think that the moss will do quite nicely,” Glenn remarked, already heading towards the exit of the shelter.

The light bay man ducked out into the rain, instantly bracing himself for impact. He felt sharp pricks against his skin that were a million times less than pleasurable. Glenn imagined this is what it must feel like rubbing up against his barbs over and over again. He silently wished his future, nonexistent mate luck, whoever she might be. Those things probably hurt, and unless they were a glutton for punishment, touching them would not be exciting. Glenn squished through the mud at his hooves towards where Kyrian directed. Luckily his legs reached far out before him, and he did not get too muddy because he was able to take less steps. The stallion reached out with his teeth, gathering as much moss as he could in one fell swoop. Keeping the greenery in his mouth only lasted a few seconds though. It was slimy and drenched Glenn’s muzzle the moment he picked it up. A sound of disgust accompanied Glenn spitting the moss out, and his tongue rebelled against the taste. ‘Oh suck it up, Buttercup, there is plenty of water to wash your mouth out later. Get the goods and let’s go. We have a patient waiting,’ came the stallion’s thoughts.

Gathering himself together, Glenn picked up the offending moss again, trying not to purge his mouth of it. He turned towards the shelter again, and was ready to get down to business moments after arriving.

ooc - Kyrian


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Posted on Mar 18 2018, 11:33 PM.
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#7

Kyrian

And we ain't got a label

We just rolling with the punches,,
 
With forthright candor, the stranger simultaneous introduced and dedicated himself to giving assistance. Sable ears swiveled forward at the sincerity of Glenn’s tone though the expression on the dark face framing citrine eyes wasn’t necessarily surprise. It was something closer to relief. The rogue could hardly believe his fortune that such a genuinely caring bystander happened to be in the area when he so grievously needed aid. Though some might have the compassion to want to help they might lack the courage to act upon the desire. And those that might have the gallantry necessary to initiate such bold inquiry might lack the empathy necessary to bother. Few and far between were those of the middle ground, toeing the line of their moral directive that inspired their actions. Too bad his eyes wouldn’t clear, no matter the amount of blinking, and his head wouldn’t stop pounding; the injured stallion could only imagine he would have enjoyed an uncontrived conversation with Glenn had the circumstance been different.

Yet he couldn’t change the past. The series of events that lead to their meeting were paved like cobblestones upon a well beaten path. He would be able to look back upon the details at a later date but he couldn’t change the order of the stepping stones. Instead, the brute returned his attention to the here and now. He could help shape the rest of this encounter -- if only he could center his attention.

As his adrenaline began to spike, his body’s natural response to get him moving again should danger be lurking, the winged stallion felt less pain and was able to successfully keep his eyes open. Less pain was a relative thing. Threads of fire still littered his body where saltwater lingered in the fresh wounds and nauseating aches resonated from his ribs as well as his wings. On the brighter side, the slightly convex head was able to remain lifted as the arched neck kept steady support of it. He was rightfully suspicious of trying to move much more than that before taking inventory of what else might have been damaged during his turbulent flight, which resulted in his first fall. Part of him still wished that this was all a terrible dream.

When his gaze resolved itself enough to distinguish the stallion standing before him, despite the premature darkness due to the tempest and the seclusion of the shelter they were huddled in, the draft took in the sight of barbs upon the damp bay coat. Because of the thorough raining and pouring, the true shade of bay was indistinguishable. In fact, his blue roan coat with its silvery gleam was remarkably bland since the hair follicles were saturated and turned a dreary, dull gray. The spurs appeared to rest naturally on Glenn’s form and didn't appear to harm the other stallion. Bright goldenrod eyes watched the athletically built stud swiftly check for any injuries. The wetted black forelock rested heavily upon the male’s brow as he shook his head in a negative. A small furl of relief uncurled in his gut that this newcomer was safe from harm. The lone stallion felt a measure of benevolence toward Glenn when he spoke honestly, despite his hesitation.

A ghost of a smile curved his onyx lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes, when Glenn agreed and straightaway went to obtain the material. The promptness of his action was both reassuring and concerning. The roan imagined that he probably looked terrifying. Perhaps the bay was feeling similar to the way he felt when he stumbled upon Goblin – the stallion impaled with a broadsword. The baroque stud certainly hoped he looked less frightening than that sight had been. With that thought in mind, he stubbornly gritted his teeth and shifted each leg individually. Each subtle wiggle was tentatively taken. Thank the goddess he felt neither fractures nor dislocations. He did find that his forelegs were lacerated at various places. The cuts were as low as his mid-cannon and high as his forearm – they were mostly damages obtained from branches and sharp leaves as his tucked legs banged into the trees while falling. From the scent of the metallic tang, he imagined he might have some abrasions on his face and neck as well. However, those were more difficult for him to see. Wanting to be standing before Glenn came back, a tad prideful to be asking for more help than absolutely necessary, the stubborn stallion wasted little time in situating his legs and lurching upward. "Ugh!" he groaned out involuntarily as his vision went black and an sickening sense of vertigo engulfed him.

By some miracle, he remained on all fours. The ground looked like it was bucking and swaying when his sights returned. His ears could only hear the sound of his blood rushing for a long moment so he didn't realize his breathing was labored. Hotter than the heat of the brightest sun, the rogue felt like his wings would burst into flames. They hurt! Staying conscious was almost more than he could manage. But he needed to get a good look at them. In his mind, the pegasus knew they were broken but his heart, blissfully hopeful thing, prayed they were just bruised. Panting and sweating from the exertion, he waited for Glenn to return since he couldn't seem to find enough air to use his voice. The tail tipped with feathers swayed left and right, low to the ground, with brilliantly hued plumage flared to help keep him balanced while his knees trembled. Enormous wings were sprawled on either side of his body, limp. A few cadium orange and raspberry pinions were strewn on the ground. It took quite a bit of force to remove the healthy feathers from their position on his wings but, between the ravaging of the sea and the brutality of the trees, he had a number of patches missing. 

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Glenn 


Rogue

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Posted on Mar 20 2018, 10:37 PM.
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#8

The trot back to the stick shelter was quick and simple for the Hackney, if a little bit moist along the way. It seemed like the rain and the storms had no intentions of breaking up any time soon. The sky was taking the worst, most malicious shower Glenn had ever seen. It just poured, and poured, and poured to no end. Should it continue in this manner, then there was a great chance for flashfloods and mudslides to happen. It was probably best not to hang out in the area for too long. Whoever did the rain dance to bring this about should never be able to do so again; it was getting to be destructive. Glenn finagled a way to keep the moss in his mouth without it raking against his taste buds as he moved. Half of it hung down near his chin, while the other part remained clamped in the male’s teeth. It was not one hundred percent perfect, but it would have to do for the time being. It was enough to get the job done without much more complaint. Glenn felt soggy and bogged down a little bit, his fur – specifically his mane and tail - clinging to his body like Clingwrap, but he was okay. It was all in pursuit of helping someone else, and that made it worth it.    
 
Glenn had to admit that he was surprised seeing the stallion standing when he returned, even in a shaky manner like he was. The fall from above had to be a brutal one, no matter which way one looked at it. Being airborne and then suddenly slammed from the skies was no pretty thing, and a thing that could not be sugar coated. Glenn’s furred eyebrows lifted slightly on his forehead, and he smiled a bit. Perhaps after this whole thing was over, the stallion would make a complete and total recovery after all. Him standing alone was already a good start. Now if only they could keep this progress going forward, that would be great.  “Well now, look at you all stand-y and stuff like that. You are already on your way now,” Glenn said amiably. He leaned lightly against the shelter, crossing his front hooves in humor with moss hanging from one side of his mouth. He was trying to make this situation as easy and as light as possible, even though circumstances might try to say otherwise. That was all that he could do when things like this happened; try to remain realistically positive.

The stallion reentered the ramshackle fortress thereafter, carefully examining Kyrian’s damages before doing anything. The now drenched bay resisted the urge to shake his fur from the wetness, and focused in on the task at hand instead. He was quite a bit shorter than the gray toned draft, but Gleen attempted to reach places he could easily access. To Glenn, it seemed like the wings were the worst part out of the rest. Everything else was more arbitrary and surface based from what he could tell. There were a few nicks and gnashes here and there, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. But it was better to ask rather than make faulty assumptions. There was probably nothing worse than putting salt on open wounds at that point. “Alright so here is the moss as per request, nasty to the taste, yet great for the healing,” Glenn stated matter-of-factly, “Tell me where the worst of your pain is, and we will handle those first I suppose. Forgive me ahead of time for any stinging sensations that might occur. It is probably going to happen with the cuts you have got here, maybe, maybe not.”

As this whole thing began, Glenn was thinking about ways to repair Kyrian’s severely drooping wings. It made him feel a bit upset that that had to happen in such a manner. Perhaps they could make bandages with the moss at the base in a way to keep them up. That was not saying it would not hurt, nor was it guaranteed to work at all, but that might be worth a try. Worst case scenario involved taking them…no…they could not do that. A Pegasus without wings certainly was no Pegasus at all; then the other stallion would just be a horse. There had to be another way to go about this. The missing parts of Kyrian’s wings would probably have to grow in themselves eventually, and would probably still have to remain aesthetically displeasing for a while. They could try to fill in the gaps with leaves or something, but that might bring about strange looks and questions. But it was up to Kyrian in the end what he wished to do about them. Glenn assumed that flying was off the table altogether though; the other man seemed like a sensible chap who knew his limits well.  

ooc - Kyrian


Lord

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Posted on Mar 23 2018, 7:15 PM.
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#9

Kyrian

I think I'm in love

I think I'm in love again,,
 
Glenn’s return was swifter than he anticipated. Or the brute’s memory was lapsing in time again. Either way, Kyrian had to keep his citrine gaze pinned on the ebony lips of the bay to read the words coming from his moss laden mouth because his ears were still hissing with the sound of his scorching hot blood rushing through his veins. He felt awful. His skin was cold and becoming slick with sweat, on top of the rain and residual layer of sea spray ruffing the roan’s coat. The chill contrasted abruptly with the overheating of his insides. It felt as though his guts were rioting and boiling within him. Nausea and faintness warred for control over his aching body. Something felt like it was prodding his lung as he gasped for breath, always coming up short of a necessary inhale, so he could only frown with his eyes at the casual stance of his help.

He wished he could walk away from this right now. The rogue continued to beg any deity that might heed him to take this pain away, to let this be a terrible dream that he could wake from. But his mental pleas must be falling upon deaf or uncaring ears because nothing changed except his awareness of different pains. The pounding within his head, the grating ache that came with each inhale, the sting of his cuts, or the sharp, excruciating agony that resulted from trying to shift a wing – all of them took a turn at some point before rotating again.

Blinking when darkness obscured his vision once again, he sighed as mightily as he could with his lack of air. It was mostly a mental action. The dusk winged pegasus figured he was succumbing to the faintness until it registered that Glenn’s shadow had blotted out the light for a moment as he entered their shelter. He wasn’t passing out. Glenn stopped in front of him and, when he spoke, Kyrian listened through the white noise. When the genial stud apologized in advance, he nodded his head in understanding – the up and down movement slow and very subtle.

"My wings," he croaked. A pink tongue peaked out between his lips as he tried to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Admitting to the pain they were giving him was too much. "But s-stop the bleeding first."

He was feeling light headed so he let his neck relax until his nose nearly brushed the ground. This wasn’t idle for Glenn to try and reach the lacerations on his front limbs, but he was doing whatever he could to stay upright. The leonine tail continued to sway and flick behind him. Fine tremors could be seen rippling down his spine and his shoulder muscles quivered to refrain from adjusting his feathered wings. His thick legs felt as unsteady as a newborn colt’s but continued to hold his weight.

If he could, the wounded stallion would have taken the moss and cleaned his own wounds; however, that wasn’t an option today. Instead, he stood for the ministrations of the sympathetic stranger. He gave his best to move his head out of the way whenever he could so he wasn’t a complete hindrance to the process. Though air did rush in and out of his flared nares during a few touches that informed him exactly how tender that flesh was feeling. Because more information meant more accurate care, Kyrian whispered from his seawater sore throat, "I don’t feel any f-fractures in my legs but my right rib cage feels compressed." Taking in a shallow breath, he continued, "Creaked ribs, I think." Lifting his head to shoulder height, with a great deal of effort, he peered out of the shelter and saw that the trees weren’t pitching to the side anymore but rhythmically shaking to and fro.

The cacophony of the downpour had transformed into a drone of pitter patter. Individual and pairs of droplets could be heard ricocheting off the shelter, leaves, and puddles upon the ground; whereas before it was a chaotic onslaught. Distantly, the sound of thunder could be heard but no streak of lightening lit the sky. Gales would test the durability of their hut periodically, yet they were not relentless or as forceful as before. Though he knew not how long, the tempest was migrating and would soon pass them by. As the storm was at the moment it was a bearable spring event.

A small moment of respite before he continued to catalog his injuries, "I-I am dizzy and nauseous. Concussion?" Briefly his heart and soul cried out: where is Øydis? I need to find her. Yet he was in no shape to scavenge the shores but that would come soon enough for he was a stubborn fool. He just needed to grit his teeth and persist. Right now he needed to inform Glenn about the most concerning condition he was suffering from, "I think my wings are…"

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Glenn ; ~ ; he can't even say it out loud.


Rogue

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Posted on Mar 26 2018, 8:23 PM.
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#10

It was just as Glenn suspected initially. The other wounds that were on Kyrian were nothing in comparison to his horribly, bent flying appendages. The stallion was not pleased that he was right about it, but had a hunch that that was case originally. The wings looked bad, end of story. Almost everything physically looked bad on the Pegasus honestly. But the wings most definitely were harmed. Glenn clucked his tongue in thought, trying to go through solutions over and over again. The only thing that he knew to do was to go one by one, handle each cut, bruise, and hurt individually. If he looked at the whole thing as one, it really almost hurt his feelings. How could this happen to someone like this? The slate colored male did not seem like a bad horse. But that was the thing about life; we do not always have the answers. Sometimes even the nicest of people get dealt the worst of hands.

Glenn went about the task placing moss where bleeding spots were. The man’s blue gray gaze stayed unwaveringly on his work. He had to be precise if all of these wounds were going to be taken care of efficiently. This is where the perfectionist side of him came out. In situations like these, this is where it came in handy, otherwise not so much. But that was just his way and what he had been taught. It was embedded into his system, and there was no way that that was going to change any time soon either. It is amazing the things that parents pass on to their children. Be it good or bad, on purpose or not, the impression that parents leave is great. And that is why Glenn was the way that he was without question. His father’s influence was a great one, in more ways than one. And not only on him either, he had an influence on his older sisters as well. It took some convincing, but alas Glenn’s father released some of his hold on the three of them thankfully.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, the stallion sponged off Kyrian as best as he could. He saw Kyrian’s tongue come out, and added getting water to the list of things to do. They did not need dehydration on the ailments side of things. “That should do it for the lighter wounds I think,” Glenn said, finally stopping his moss dabbing. With a little time, those random scratches should close right up for good without minimal scarring. Those were the benefits of plants. Hooray. The bay nodded at his work, checking it off the list indefinitely. Now, on to fixing the draft’s ribs somehow. That would be a little tricky because there was no x-ray they could use. If Glenn could put fingers to his face to stroke his chin, he probably would have at that moment. Well, Kyrian said that his ribs felt compressed, but it seemed like keeping them wrapped up would probably have a good effect on him though. This would potentially keep them from getting jarred around enough to heal as well. “What I think we should do is bandage your sides and wings up actually,” Glenn stated, “When they feel less sore then they can probably be removed. I need more moss though, nasty as it is.” The stallion shook his mane in distaste, but it was not his sense of taste that he was worried about. “Be back in a flash.”

Once more Glenn stepped from beneath the shelter. He went back to the moss ridden spot from before, and collected his bounty. His facial expression was stern and diligent; he was doing what was required of him. The good thing about moss aside from its sponge-like quality was that it meant water was nearby. Moss was only moss because it was soggy. Whatever else it was made of did not really matter in this case. Glenn went to the beach and found a suitable shell to carry water with. Looking for the cleanest source, Glenn dipped the shell into the water. It was a balancing act between plant and water to carry, but not a whole lot had been spilled. The stallion reemerged into the shack and laid the water at Kyrian’s hooves. “This should do your throat some good, or so I hope. Bon a petit. And now for your ribs and wings,” Glenn said, trying to throw a bit more humor on the situation. He then walked around to the other male’s side and began taping together his ribs. It was better to get it done quickly before there was time for protest, otherwise it might go unchecked. And if they were going to go on some trip to find some unknown lady, that was certainly not ideal obviously.

After working on the second worst ailment, it was finally time for the Pegasus’ wings. Glenn cringed at the thought, and hoped everything would be okay. He gently attempted to lift one of the patched wings from the ground. At the same time Glenn put moss at the base of it where it connected to Kyrian’s shoulder. This was a painstaking job, one that no one should have to have done to them. The only thing worse than this was probably doing actual surgery. But Glenn was no licensed practitioner, and would not want to do something like that anyways.

ooc - Kyrian Sad


Lord

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Posted on Mar 29 2018, 7:34 PM.
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#11

Kyrian

I think I'm in love

I think I'm in love again,,
 
Given that they were mere strangers, Glenn’s exceptionally delicate tending continued to surprise Kyrian. The rogue knew that he owed the smaller bay stallion a great debt. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to repay lithe stud in full, but he would try. With each firm yet considerately tender press of the damp moss to his cuts he felt a moment of relief that he wasn’t doing this alone. Slowly the scent of blood began to dilute and the air took on the smell of damp, warm bodies and earthier things. From the hasty erection of the shelter the surrounding sod had been disturbed and dank dirt along with salty fish hung on the wind. Though he still felt chilled on the outside and boiling hot on the inside, the draft’s body was emitting steam fog toward the roof while droplets of sweat mixed with rain condensed on his monochrome coat before dripping off. Glenn was thorough and Kyrian was sorely appreciative of the commitment to the task.

A sable ear flicked when the upbeat words were spoken. This was also something the loner was thankful for – this male continued to remain positive, not annoyingly so but uplifted just enough, throughout the process. Such an attitude kept him calm and let him relax. At the mention of bandaging, Kyrian painstakingly nodded his head in agreement. He wanted to suggest something a little stronger for his wings; however, his parched maw refused to cooperate any longer and he had to repress a shiver that crept up out of nowhere.

Burnish gold eyes were narrowed in concentration, etches of pain written all over his features, when the quick stepping bay returned. He had been counting to keep from falling asleep – potentially entertaining the task to keep from literally falling – but when he saw the fresh water present itself at his hooves he wasted little time in lowering his lips to take small sips. He tried his best not to rush yet the quenching sensation of cool water on his scratchy throat was utterly splendid. Then the shell was empty and his belly sloshed with unease while Glenn began intently securing his ribs. After the initial shortness of breath and sharp, little pains he felt supported and more comfortable with the wrapping.

About to voice his appreciation, the words were cut off by an indescribable yelp of pain. White sparks flashed across his vision before darkness swallowed the world around him. The hush of the waves crashing upon the shore and the pattering of rain vanished under the pounding of his wild heartbeat filling his ears. Rather suddenly, he couldn’t smell anything. The dusk winged pegasus was a being of sensationlessness and inordinate pain. Without seeing what he was doing, he lowered onto his front knees and groaned. The sickening impression of bone grating against bone had been like nothing he had ever felt before. It was nothing he could have prepared for. Sweat soaked his brow, neck, and shoulders while he gasped for air.

"I’m not sure I’ll make it through the next one," came the raspy confession through the haze of disorientation. Taking in gulps, straining his lungs against his bound ribs, Kyrian suggested, "I don’t think I can hold my wings up. Can you find some vine, maybe? And, please, don’t stop if I faint." He didn’t enjoy admitting the last part but he thought it was necessary given his current condition.

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Glenn is a champ! I hope you don't mind it being a little shorter than normal. Also, thank you for so patiently awaiting. c:


Rogue

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Posted on Apr 03 2018, 11:40 PM.
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#12

The two males seemed to be functioning well as a team to get the Pegasus patched up. Kyrian would instruct Glenn, and then Glenn would facilitate things into working order. If there was such a thing as an eight legged creature that moved with individual and conjoined parts, then perhaps this was it. Or at least it was the closest thing to it. The situation on the whole was not ideal, but they were working together to get through it. Who knew that something like this was going to happen in this manner? Glenn surely did not; this was the worst kind of surprise. It was like the lands flicked a switch and BOOM! there the storm was. Then, on top of that, horses were crashing to the earth, dropping out of the skies like flies. The storm seemed to be settling down quite a bit from what it once started out as, but still. There was still rattling and disturbances all around. After all of this was over, Glenn did not think that he would linger for longer than necessary. He would want to just get in, get on with it, and get out as soon as possible. Anywhere other than there seemed like the place to be. But Glenn would not leave the other stallion alone like he had been. That was just asking for the hungry birds like vultures to come. Fresh meat sitting in the open…that did not make for a pretty scene. Nobody wanted to be picked apart at the claws of scavengers, whether alive or dead.

So the process of mending and tending continued onwards, making small progressions as it went along. At this rate, perhaps the draft stallion would probably heal faster than expected. But that was up to him, his body, and time to decide really. The good news was that there was a very high chance of survival, pained as it had to be in that moment. If Glenn could waive a magic wand and make it all better instantly, he certainly would have. But the barbed man possessed no such item, nor the ability to do so. Other horses might have things like that, but not Glenn unfortunately. Surely there was magic in these parts, but Glenn had no access to them. The assumption was made that Kyrian did not either, or he would have healed himself by then. He would not have endured this kind of pain if he did not have to, that much was for certain. Such as it was, they were forced to manually take care of things. Plodding along through careful care was the way that it was going to have to be for a while. The longer that it went on, Glenn felt like the other stallion was sort of like a friend or something though. He did not know his name or where he came from exactly, but friends gave and received from one another. They cooperated, coexisted, and all that fun other stuff too. And that is what this situation seemed to call for. But there was time to think about that later. There were wounds and wings to attend to first of all. Idle chatter and camaraderie would come afterwards.

And speaking of wings, the sudden yelp from Kyrian about his made Glenn hiss in surprise. He recoiled instantly, backing away from touching anything, moss dropping to the ground. The moss made a wet splat noise at Glenn’s hooves as it fell from his lips. The man’s expression was slightly twisted because he could almost tangibly feel the emanating pain. No amount of water, no soggy plant, or anything could remedy that kind of pain at that point. The only thing was that they had to wait for it to subside and pass gradually. “Oof, I know that must have hurt, my bad,” Glenn said apologetically. His gray eyes went down a moment, as a feeling of failure was beginning to creep up a bit. What if he could not handle this simple thing and could not help properly? What if his efforts were in vain and did no good? Then he would have gotten both of their hopes up for no reason. Memories of his overbearing father were crawling into Glenn’s mind, and he had to beat them back. Otherwise if he allowed them they would get ahold of his confidence and flip everything on its head. He did not want that to happen. He really, really did not want that to happen. Then he would not be able to look anyone in the eye, and hiding out would be his only option. Glenn had essentially just come to Elysium, and he did not want his fresh start to be tarnished. That was why he left home, to start anew and try to do things right. ‘Get it together you big baby. You are not the one hurting here; there is nothing wrong with you other than your pride. Others need your help, not the other way around. Let the past be the past,’ Glenn’s thoughts said, almost scolding him. The stag shuffled his hooves a bit before lifting his head at the sound of Kyrian’s voice. The Pegasus was being stronger than he was, even in his current condition. It was noble of him to be that way, and the bay had to suck it up and banish his own insecurities. That was all it was, doubting himself and his capabilities. If the other dude could do it like he was, Glenn certainly could do it too. He nodded in response to the vine question, and his confidence in himself was renewed. He would do his job, and do it well.

Glenn trekked in and out as he had done before, coming back with twisted vine that looked as good as possible. It probably was not the strongest of materials, but would be good enough for supporting wings Glenn hoped. He began the process of working on Kyrian’s wings speaking to him at the same time. “It will be okay, I promise,” he said. “Tell me all about your special lady. Where and how did you guys meet?” If anything would keep the Pegasus’ attention off of the pain, it had to be the love of a good mare.

ooc - Kyrian He's trying his best. And thank you for being patient also. ^^


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Posted on Apr 04 2018, 8:26 PM.
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#13

Kyrian

In my head yea you're in my head

I didn't think it could be true,,
 
Remaining on his front knees, his leonine tail twitching from the pain, the roan stallion valiantly tried to regulate his breathing and reorient his concentration, which was hyper focused on the agony radiating from his manipulated wing. In - one, two, three; out - three, two, one – was his internal mantra that allowed him to narrow his consciousness to the expanding and contracting of his lungs until only the fringes of pain were noticed. The passage of time could have been seconds or days, he quite literally wasn’t sure except that existence continued under the relentless drumming of his heartbeat. The barbed heels of the bay stallion could be seen a few strides from him when he could see again. Blinking to try and clear the residual sparks of white and flashes of black in his vision the draft realized that his brow was resting against the wet earth and his nares took in the damp scent greedily. His senses were returning to him slowly, already he could taste the tang of salt on his tongue in spite of his earlier drink. Through the buzzing in his sable ears he heard the apology and he regretted that Glenn would feel it was necessary to say. The quick-hoofed stud was helping when others would most likely be too fearful to. The fallen pegasus wouldn’t have gotten this far without his generous assistance. The compassionate stud had deftly wrapped his ribs and, without a single moment of hesitation, blotted the blood from his abrasions.

Lifting his head and, unable to repress the groan, the draft staggered to all four hooves. He stood with his legs stretched out and neck low, but he was upright again even though his body yearned to collapse and sleep. That was a tricky plot to maneuver later because he was certain he had a concussion and, though sleep was good for healing, he might not wake again if he slumbered too long. But first he needed to get these wings set and the guarded look upon Glenn’s face didn’t bode well. Kyrian was patient by nature so he waited. The black roan knew that whatever internal debate the brute was experiencing was one that he would have to solve on his own. Through his delirium, one might want to consider that he was making the wrong assumption and Glenn was simply giving him a moment to recover. Whatever the case, he was relieved when the other stallion nodded and vacated the shelter to retrieve some vines to bind his wings more firmly. At least he hoped.

That was all Kyrian had left in him, hope. As battered and broken as he was the loner was a creature of never ending faith. His optimism may wane and his youthful jubilance may have been soundly beaten out of him now, nevertheless he continued to believe that good would come from this. Each action had a reaction and it was up to him to decide what path to take. Sunfire bright eyes narrowed in determination as he gritted his teeth and willed himself to be resilient so that he would be able to look for her, his saving grace, his love and his heart.

At the return of the lithe bay, he was quick to bite his lower lip and concentrate on anything except the stomach roiling sensation of his wings being worked on. He knew the other stallion was working efficiently and trying his best to cause the least amount of pain possible. Bless him. At the sound of his calm and slightly inquisitive voice, the rogue felt a brief smile curve his lips at the recollection of that ethereal night, "I dare say the goddess had divined for us to meet because I happened to be on the coast of Rimrock Bay the same as she." Though his hide trembled and shivered along his withers he refrained from jerking away or crying out again. His mind transporting him back to that night. "Upon the red sands she looked like a jewel of sapphire come to life." He remembered how he couldn’t take his eyes off of her but, more than that, he felt the connection that bound them together from the start. His sea siren was actively solicitous and candid from the start. She reached his inner core swifter than he ever thought possible. Overwhelmed by emotions, the empathetic stallion flicked his ears back and narrowed his eyes against the onslaught. "I will find her again. I will," a strong emphasis was put on the second vow.

Being supported by the sturdy yet supple vines and cushioned by the moss, the pegasus turned his gaze to one of his bound wings and though his lips were pressed in a firm line he nodded in satisfaction at the bindings. Looking to benevolent male, he rumbled, "I don’t know what I would have done without you, Glenn. I owe you a great debt. If ever you are in need of a friend you can always come to me." It sounded like a farewell, but that wasn't his intent. He simply needed to express his gratitude and he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. Citrine eyes turned to peer sincerely into the soulful gray ones. 

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Øydis Glenn is doing amazing! If only they could have met under better circumstances. But, as it is, Kyrian feels like he has a lifetime friend in him. c:


Rogue

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Posted on Apr 10 2018, 11:05 PM. (Edited: Apr 10 2018, 11:05 PM by Glenn.)
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#14

The careful administrations continued until Glenn did everything that he could possibly do. He attempted to wrap a few more things in moss, dab a little bit at scratches, and then Glenn finally stopped. The stallion wiped his forehead on his shoulder and stepped back a bit to inspect everything. In retrospect, he wished that the other stallion did not have to endure such pain the first place. He wished that he could have predicted the horrid weather that blew in before it did. But that was all wishful thinking, and everything is 20/20 in hindsight apparently. It is easier to look in the rearview mirror and see what was instead of how it is or will be in the future. And even though others might not approve of such unorthodox treatment methods, Glenn could honestly say he had given it his all. Unorthodox or not, vines, moss, sticks and water had to do.

He could almost feel his father watching overhead, hearing what he would say in this situation, but the bay chose to ignore it all. There would be no more of this doubting stuff that day. This patch up job would do until someone else could do better, and even then resources were limited. They were horses for goodness sakes, not humans; they had hooves instead of hands, and natural cures instead of manmade ones. The technological advances in human medicine were different than the equine variety, and even those failed occasionally. And sure there was magic in these lands, but there was none to be had there. So that was that, and that was all. Recovery was not the easiest of processes; it required infinite fortitude and unending diligence. But Glenn was satisfied, and hoped that he had done his draft companion justice.

Glenn could not help but smile too as Kyrian reminisced about his lady. It was nice to hear about what and who made others happy. He was intrigued to hear about how special she was to him, and how their first encounter had gone. It would probably be a moment that Kyrian would never forget, judging solely by his mannerisms and speech. Typically when asked, most couples would say that the moment they met their perfect match, everything changed. It was like a whole new avenue was opened up, and they would not want to travel it with anyone but their other half. Glenn listened intently to the description of the draft’s experience, and could almost see it happen in his mind’s eye. A mare forming from a jewel was certainly plausible in a place like this one. He could hear the passion in Kyrian’s voice and understand the desire to get back to her. Glenn knew without a shadow of a doubt that his words were his bond, and that where his mare went, there he would be too. This whole storm business was simply a testing, a trial, but that obviously would be of no consequence. Any and all physical impairments were only going to be temporary. They might hurt a bit in the present, but the outlook was encouraging.

“That is a wonderful story, and your sapphire, she sounds absolutely lovely. I have no doubt that you will find her too. Surely she is awaiting your return any minute now,” Glenn said quietly. He did not want to speak louder, for that might break the concentration off of Øydis. It seemed to be where the slate colored male was gathering from fortitude and strength from, getting back to her, despite his pains. This could be just the motivation that he needed to heal quickly. As aforementioned, only time would tell how this would all pan out. It is one of the few things that cannot officially be controlled. But another thing to consider is that the body also responds to the cues the brain gives it. Thoughts can trigger actions, and actions can trigger progress.

The next words that Glenn heard and the orange flecked look made him feel like this whole thing was worth it. The light bay had not established a strong friendship with anyone since his arrival, but there was definitely a string of camaraderie formed in that moment. Glenn had traveled alone, spotting various figures here and there, but never got to the meat and potatoes of things until then. It was a friendship that Glenn thoroughly appreciated. And if not for all the bandages, he probably would have attempted a hoof shake or something of the sort like men do. It was probably not a wise idea to try it when standing was difficult, but they could probably make one up later or something.

“Presto, change-o, you are done-o, and now somewhat good to go. And any time my friend,” Glenn said with a nod.

ooc - Kyrian


Lord

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Posted on Apr 13 2018, 5:48 PM.
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#15

Kyrian

Let alone that it would be you,,
 
"And I am awaiting hers. This time apart, no matter how short it’s been, is unbearable," Kyrian admitted in a hushed breath that rivaled the discreet octave spoken by Glenn. The desire to throw caution to the wind and abandon all sense of self-preservation for the sake of galloping along the coast calling out her name in search of her was strong enough to make him tremble. The truth was he wouldn’t make it a step beyond this cleverly crafted shelter. Nonetheless, he yearned to try since the thought of Øydis being out there alone was unbearable. What if she was injured? Or lost at sea desperately trying to get back to shore? Quivering from the restraint it took to refrain from this impulse he closed his eyes and recalled their last embrace, and he could very nearly feel the velvety warmth of her muzzle against his silver neck. A sable ear flicked back, as if touched by a ticklish breath produced by a lovers murmuring, and he found his robust limbs unwilling to hold him aloft any longer though he stubbornly demanded it of them. Knees weakened by fatigue and the powerful swell of emotions coursing through him, the wounded draft met Glenn’s patient stare.

For a brief silent moment the pair shared their camaraderie. No words were accurate enough to describe Kyrian’s sincere gratitude toward the resourceful bay. The silence was comfortable though. It was filled with their steady breathing, his much improved because of the bindings around his ribs. And they were able to communication through that strange male body language that they appreciated each other. With painfully slow steps Kyrian shuffled closer before lowering his head until they were eye to eye. Extending his neck forward he attempted to press his forehead to Glenn’s unbarbed brow. The touch was meant to be similar to a short handshake or a forearm clasp. This was a physical display of his thankfulness and, hopefully, an instigation of a greeting between friends.

Droplets of rain were suspended along the entrance rim of their makeshift haven. When they fell from their place they splashed into the puddles below. Outside the ghostly wail of the wind traveled along the tropical mesa. The uproar of the tempest had finally dimmed to a usual spring rainfall. Whether the spontaneous squall was causing havoc elsewhere or had finally spent itself out was unknown to the draft, but either way he was relieved to have the comforting patter of drizzling. As with any mild shower, the isle was gaining a fresh scent. The tart, unpleasant smell of fish and blood was disappearing under the fragrance of wet bark from the broken trees, upturned dirt, and the unidentifiable fragrance that came with rain. Within his veins his blood ran a little hot, but this feverish temperature was to be expected given his injuries and it wasn’t as dangerous as before. The baroque could hear above the steady rhythm of his heart and he savored the semblance of silence. Even seabirds were beginning to emerge from their hastily discovered bolt holes to squawk indignantly at the damage wrought by the marine storm while others chirped in delight at the easy pickings of washed up fish. Everything was the same as before yet horrifically different.

Again Glenn’s chipper voice broke through before his thoughts were able to spiral out of control. Heavy lidded from exhaustion his citrine gaze managed to spark with mirth at the peculiar phrasing and he let a whisper of a smile curve his mug. "Presto, change-o, and done-o; time to go-go?" he rasped playfully. It wouldn’t do him any good to focus on negative thoughts. Instead, the roan clung to his hope and gamely trudged toward the entrance. He was sapped of energy before he made it four steps. Onyx ears swiveled back in befuddlement.

"I think it would be best if I rested." With that he began the slow process of laying down. Groaning for the sake of all the hurts that rippled throughout his body as he tucked his knees and gently lowered to the damp ground, he finished willfully, "Not long, just enough to take the edge off." Sweat still dampened his brow but along his neck, chest, and flank it was drying because of his body heat. Carefully tucking his cloven hooves near to his frame for balance, the loner curled his feather tipped parallel to his barrel and lowered his throbbing head to rest his chin on the ground. His dusk hued wings were able to completely relax against their bindings so, given the circumstance, he was comfortable. This close to the entrance he was able to watch the progress of nature and remain relatively untouched by the elements. Only a stray counter wind was able to mist his face with rain.

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Glenn is welcome to stick around or make his leave, but I think we did quite a good job with this thread. Thank you! I had a lot of fun. c:


Rogue

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Posted on Apr 17 2018, 4:43 AM. (Edited: Apr 17 2018, 4:44 AM by Glenn.)
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#16

Glenn nodded somewhat knowingly at Kyrian’s almost desperation to get back to his Øydis. And he could say that she was Kyrian’s based solely on his words, if not more based on his actions. Putting it simply, the dude was absolutely head over hooves about her, that much was obvious. And it was clear that nothing would stop him from getting to her in the end, even some potentially devastating injuries. Kyrian might never fly again if his wings did not repair right, but that did not seem to matter at the time really. Glenn had not experienced the same lasting love like the draft had, but was optimistic that eventually he would, and that the other stallion would regain his flight too. He hoped that he would never see the day when a Pegasus could not fly. Especially not the one that he had become friends with so easily like that. Glenn could faithfully say that he had made a friend that day, and was very glad of that very fact. If there was just one person – er horse – out there to be friends with, then sometimes that was all that was required. It was better to have one quality friend than millions of subpar ones. Those millions did not amount to much when all was said and done. They were the total of those that stayed around for arbitrary reasons like money or power. After those things faded away, or they got bored of things, then those unloyal ones disappeared for good.

“Are you looking for a good best man come the wedding day? If so, I happen to know someone who has some openings for whenever,” Glenn asked nonchalantly. There was an obvious teasing intertwined in his voice, one that could be picked up from a mile away. This prompted a chuckle from the stallion and he tossed his mane side to side a couple of times in humor. They had not known each other for very long, but he threw the offer out on the table anyways, just for good measure. Certainly the slate man had other friends out there as well that could fill the spot better than Glenn could, but still. They probably would have known him longer, actually know his sapphire lady in the flesh, and everything else about him. But, hey, the offer still stood. “I am glad that you have found your one. Now you just have to find her again and never let her go. If you did it once, then you certainly can do it another time, and every other time after that. Lord willing you will not have to keep searching, but you know what I mean.”

All teasing aside, when they touched heads, the deal seemed to be sealed between them. In that moment, the bond of friendship was established. Maybe one could go so far as to call it a brotherhood eventually. Whatever it was considered, it had been given a thumbs up from both of them it appeared. Perhaps even two while they were at it. The gesture seemed to be one of solidarity and trust, something that Glenn had not experienced a whole lot of. Yes he had a family back home. Yes he had siblings and parents that he cared for and a herd that he once belonged to. But here was a friend that was made organically and all on his own. That thought was so cool to Glenn. This whole thing had come through strange circumstances and unruly weather, but the hope was that everything would soon be remedied. From the sound of it alone, things were starting to clear up, and there was light breaking through the twisted trees.

The little rhyme that they came up with elicited a snort from the stag, and a short smile formed on his lips. He then watched as Kyrian laid down to sleep for a bit in order to recoup. “Definitely do get some rest, and do not be a stranger, I will catch up with you soon then,” Glenn stated. He decided that this was a good place to take his leave, and they could reconvene at a later date as they so chose. For the very las time that day, the light bay ducked out of the shelter. He was careful to mind Kyrian’s limbs and all before stepping into the mist. Thank goodness that wretched storm was finally over and done with. It spritzed him lightly, but was nothing in comparison before. The harsh beatings and batterings of the wind had almost died down all the way. With one glance over his shoulder, Glenn headed out towards the border of the territory. His pace was a light trot at first, just to get his muscles moving, and then he was gone before he knew it.

[-Exit Glenn-] 

ooc - Kyrian I had a lot of fun too my dear! <3


Lord

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Posted on Apr 17 2018, 9:31 PM.
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#17

Kyrian

I think I'm in love,,
 
Ever able to turn the mood toward happier notions, Glenn’s good-natured ribbing held enough truth that Kyrian’s gaze shifted from weary pain to thoughtful consideration tinged with mirth as he appraised the well-built bay. Drenched by the rain from all his trekking in and out of the shelter his ebony forelock and mane were slicked against his brow and upright neck. Accentuating the slope of his back, the curve of his underbelly, and the straightness of his limbs were the unique spines that were barbed similar to thorny rose bushes, in a way, and gave the athletic build a rugged appearance. Yet this prickly exterior was a guise because the heart of this loner was pure and extraordinarily pleasant. Kyrain would most definitely look forward to calling this male a friend of honor on such a special day. "Keep those dates open," he rumbled with a faint smile gracing his charcoal lips, "I’ll give you a call when we pick a day." Just the thought of claiming Øydis as his own before a crowd of onlookers, those he called friends and whomever his maiden wished to have witness, was enough to invigorate his optimistic determination. He would be clinging to these thoughts in the days to come as he searched for her.

Should fate have no say, the dusk winged pegasus would bind with his lover such that they would never be far from each other ever again. This aching, gaping hole in his chest was nearly unbearable. The thought of potentially never seeing her again was agonizing and terrifying. Something he refused to consider except in the dark recesses of his mind. His heart felt torn between fear and hope. The opposing poles were enough to exhaust him further and he was grateful to finally rest. Because the sooner he could rest the sooner he would recover enough to set out in search of her.

Nodding his masculine head slowly in agreement, the draft lowered it once again to rest. Into the cloud darkened haze of lightly sprinkling rain Glenn went while sunfire orbs watched out of half-mast lids. Already the pull of sleep was irresistibly alluring for the wounded stallion. His shallow yet steady breathing filled the wooded shelter with nearly clear-white vapor. The chirping of the birds slowly faded as they nestled down, their bellies filled with the fish that they had scavenged from the shore. They too were tired from the tempests ordeal. "Be safe until we meet again," Kyrian breathed into the wind as he watched Glenn’s receding form before he surrendered to the insistent pressure of darkness that was a heavy sleep. Restlessly, his bruised limbs twitched and his tail jerked. The sound of the ocean was the center of his focus as he relived the day in fevered dreams. Sable ears would flick back and he would mumbled in his sleep, "Øydis, oh Øydis." Each time she would disappear from his grasp and he would dream again in an attempt to keep her safe with him. 

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Glenn Last post. <3




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