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| When the Morning Comes; Full! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 21 2014, 07:32 PM (480 Views) | |
| Zinc | Jan 21 2014, 07:32 PM Post #1 |
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The Owl Waife
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The cold season had set in heavy, blanketing the Academy’s grounds on occasion with thick blankets of snow that could be there with biting winds one day, and then gone with the rising of the sun the next, leaving the soil in a perpetual state of permafrost to frozen mud in a daily cycle that would likely remain monotonous until the Spring’s first official thaw took place. Until that time, most of the dragons and their riders preferred to lock themselves within the warm confines of the white walls of their home, but there were occasions to celebrate, such as the yule times and other such things that were quite able to draw dragons from the tempting warmth of their hovels in search of a different type of blazing heat. As it was, the first females had already rung their clarion calls and the season had officially begun by their verdict as the males had hurried after them on the wing and into the sky, vying for their attentions. Silently observing females had all waited for the proper time at which they too would rise into the air to be chased, some forgoing the activity all together whether out of fear or their own predisposition to the event itself. Others had patience and simply waited for the best time to take to the skies, having carefully put to plan what they would do to test their suitors, and others, caring not for patience or anything likening to it, had thrown themselves skyward both near and far from the alabaster walls of their home to call forth any and all who were willing to listen, some favoring the Tainted kind that they had recently warred with and the possible spirit of danger they added, and others still spurning their presence utterly and wholly. Of the recently graduated class, several females had already looked to the skies and flown, chased by their own classmates and veterans alike, and now in the deep of winter, it came the time for yet another of Sekkai’s latest youths to find her way into the midwinter skies. Though the season was hardly something that suited the young Forest, it was, whether she liked it or not, the time that her estrus revealed itself as it did with other females. Though the cold of the Winter seemed to dull her powers to a state where she felt more vulnerable than ever, and near constantly tired or lethargic, she still saw the need to put her sharp mind to work as she prepared for the coming occasion that would be her Flight. Aedre helped sometimes, though more often than not, with less enthusiasm than one might have expected, preparing to emotionally distance herself from her dragon for the actual event of her mating. The human had little interest in the reproductive occasions of dragons…or humans for that matter, and aside from the occasional friendly rivalry, had shown little interest in anyone in that sort of sense. Astraea often wondered if she would at all, but never pushed the subject. Though due to her winter based exhaustion, the work of preparing the tasks that Astraea had planned for her flight took many weeks of preparation in comparison to what, under normal circumstances and duress might have only taken one or a mere handful of days. She employed help of a few other dragons for the event itself, though she was uncertain of just when she might finally give into the wash of hormones that had been bubbling throughout her body and utter the cry. The best she could inform them of was ‘keep an ear out’, and apologize for the lack of concrete timing. As it were, the occasion came at dawn, heralded by a faint pink glow on the horizon, where the clouds had begun to break apart after the fresh wash of snow that had bathed the grounds in clean white the night before. Astraea lifted her head from her nest, feeling the burning in her gut tighten and the unmistakable need course through her. She turned to listen for Aedre, sleeping in her bed, and figured now would indeed be the best time, and heaved herself to her feet on silent hooves. The girl did not so much as stir as the Forest spread her wings and took off into the silent morning that was broken only by the sounds of her wing-beats. She passed the guard on the wall and peeled away from the Academy’s main spread of lands, towards the fields and to the forest that lingered beyond their marked reach by wooden fence posts and slats. She slowly dropped, losing altitude until she was barely skimming over tree tops. A careful twitch of her wings yellow-green membranes and she had angled away from the reach of the stubborn branches upon which still clung dead and dry leaves that had been lost to the first freeze. Beyond them, deeper into the forest, the ever-green reaches of Nyushi showed a few miles in the distance. Astraea cast her head in their direction before she turned into the open air of the fields and landed at the edge of the trees, tucking her wings carefully to her sides, her breath misting out in icy clouds around her even as she entered the trees, her hooves clearly marking her path in the snow. The walk she had begun quickly broke into a trot, then a gallop, the easy gait assisted by her rather equine shape until she was full out sprinting through the trees. Behind her, snow melted away, and above her, the trees began to regain their leaves and greenery within the depths of Nyushi. She only slowed when she reached her first marker, an uneven clearing broken by stubborn patches of clover and browning grass that had been affected by the chill and the frost that had breached here into the arms of the forest. She turned and angled her wide ears, her unseeing eyes beholding nothing even as she took stock of the world around her with the rest of her senses reaching like finely tuned fingers. The wind brushing through branches, the scent of the oaks and pines, the light, airy smell of the small patches of Jacob’s Ladder that marked the entrance of her maze, and of course…the life that brimmed around her, available to her touch and reinvigorating her as it fed her information that she herself missed. The kirin-like Forest took a deep breath, her misty eyes shutting beneath her lank grey mane as she took a deep, steadying breath. Nerves were not something that she was familiar with, but even now, she could feel them knotting up within her, threatening to undo her and send her into a panicked run right back to the Academy. No…she would not allow such. She exhaled, opening her eyes again and lifting her head towards the crisp, clear sky. There was much to do, and running would solve nothing. Fanged mouth parting wide, she elicited a clear, screeching call into the morning air, misty breath clouding the morning even as the sound carried back to the Academy and any who might be about in the early hour of dawn. Though the forest was starting to be dyed by the pinks and oranges of dawn, the effect was lost on the female who simply sat and listened, waiting for the first sign of a suitor to challenge her tests. --- OOC: Okay! So this is Astraea’s flight, DUE TO REMARKABLE INTEREST THIS SHALL ONLY BE ONE ROUND. Like last time, I will be setting post dates for my responses, so that way I don’t have to stress over waiting on people as they know when each deadline is. If you miss a round, that’s not to say you’re out entirely, but you /must/ make it up in your next post. Post cut off for the round will be Friday afternoon, possibly earlier depending on my schedule :> Good luck suitors! |
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| Ula | Jan 22 2014, 01:17 PM Post #2 |
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Unregistered
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The frigid fingers of winter gently caressed his smooth scales. Its icy tongue lapped against his parted wings while the frosted fangs dripped rivulets of chilly sensations into his veins. A slight shiver shook his body causing the overlapping scales that drew an end to his wiry tail to clatter against one another in a mock rendition of the irritation that coiled around his head. Hemlock was not a creature of the snow and yet, he chose to soar beneath the snow-weary clouds with a solid determination that flooded the brains of the Academy males with a rush of hormones. It was those hormones that urged them to continue their bloodlines, to face off against their war-brothers, clutchmates, and even tainted in whatever array of challenges the female of choice could muster up. It was funny, really, how one brief season could bring equality in the form of Sekkain and Tainted standing side by side yet tip the tables for that very equality to hover on the edge as the same males danced a dance of puppets with their master being whichever female was lucky enough to gather them. Perhaps it was that reason the Forest held off for so long. Despite the Flights acting as a suitable way to test his skill at working around puzzles of both the physical and mental kind, Hemlock couldn't put his pride to the side long enough to stand beside the other competitors. After all, he was as fit a mate as any--why must he prove himself if the woman could see it for herself the moment he touched down to land? In spite of that, each season passed with more and more stress as the will to ignore what nature so bluntly flashed in his face with each rising female grew weaker and weaker. Hemlock met the need in stride, of course; how else was he to impress if all he could show for was the desperation that was surely to show? So, with the best smug expression he could manage to wear at the moment, Hemlock took to the sky with war-wounded wings beating against the wintry air. By now, of course, the look of pride had been wiped away. It was hard to keep up such appearances when the body yearned for the warmth of the sun yet could only find the arms of snow and ice. Having been aloft for a little over an hour, Hemlock felt alone in the air. Did he miss his chance during the only season that ever called him to join in? What irony it would be if that was the case, however, it was not. The ghostly whistle came just in time to renew the dying passion. He took a moment to pause in midflight, using a series of circular arches in his flight pattern to keep him in place before eventually pinpointing the source. The finding only urged him on with more strength than any as it originated from an area where he would feel at home. Deep wingbeats brought him closer and closer to the jungle, past the broken remnants brought to a periodic death by the cold and onto the core that still grew vibrant with life. The field of green was beauty to his eyes as he tested his powers with a faint twitch of his hands. It was a minute persuasion capable of being missed by the naked eye but to the Forest, he could feel the magnetic tug he had over the foliage if only for a second. He could have gone on forever simply soaring above the canopy if not for the sharp break in the tree line that stole his attention. Tucking his wings, the Forest backtracked until a safe path through the vegatation became clear. With a downward angle of his wings, Hemlock cupped his limbs closer to his body, careful not to end up caught in the knobby branches like a fly in a spider's web. When he finally touched down just at the edge of the clearing, the maker of the call received his full attention by nature's sweet intent. "I have heard your call and here, I have come," Hemlock greeted, flaring his vivid frill as an accent. As it was his first time taking part, his words came forced with an air of unsurity. Was he to tell her his name or his intentions? His intentions should be obvious given the certain event that was to be the grand finale so he tacked on his name for extra meausre. "My name isss Hemlock." |
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| Foxikoosh | Jan 22 2014, 04:54 PM Post #3 |
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BOTANY
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Despite graduating, and despite his rider finally learning to call him by name instead of 'dragon' or 'that thing' or 'you' or 'it' or 'that beast' or 'mutant beast' or anything else equally insulting and equally impersonal, their arguments had not really improved. They'd had most arguments at least once, now, but that didn't seem to phase Jaime. Prometheus had long ago started ignoring him-- sometime around their disastrous lesson where he'd intentionally terrified his idiot rider and the boy had run off and hidden for three whole days. Sometimes their arguments were actually all in good fun, no malice intended from either party. There was name-calling aplenty, and the hurling about of past mistakes. But sometimes they fought with the intent to hurt each other. Usually Jaime started it, because Prometheus was above such childish behavior. But he wasn't against finishing the arguments when Jaime started them, and because they were bonded, both knew exactly what to say to hurt the other. When Jaime really wanted to upset Prometheus, he resorted to sly insults about his parentage. They weren't direct insults about either his mother or his father, but implications that Prometheus didn't really fit anywhere, that he was every much an outcast as Jaime because he was a mutt of two opposite elements-- air and earth. He'd been in rare form today. Prometheus had known it was going to be a bad day when Jaime woke up in a bad mood. But the personal insults were a bit much, so he finally left. Let Jaime try to take his wrath out on Sleipnir-- the little horse was a bit daft and Jaime couldn't hurt him if he tried, which he wouldn't. Prometheus was pretty sure Jaime liked the gargoyle better than his dragon. Rather than taking a living space on the ground with the other, bigger Earth dragons, Jaime and Prometheus had chosen one a few stories up. From here, if the wind was right and he wasn't too lazy to use his air element to his advantage, Prometheus could take off and sometimes find a thermal to assist him into the sky. When Jaime's bad attitude had become more than he could handle, he'd rolled his eyes and thrown himself from their abode with a mighty leap, legs stretching foreward and wings reaching out to their full extent while he pulled at the air, pushing it under his wings and tail to get some lift. He glided out over the forest, icy wind doing little to impede his progress. "You're too effin' big and clunky to be an Air, and too small and feathery to be an Earth. You're just as out-of-place here as I am." Prometheus shook his head and gathered some more air under his wings, flapping in long, slow strokes just to maintain his altitude. He couldn't carry this on for too long at a go without landing, but today he was in the mood to go until he nearly fell from the sky. Jaime was just being vicious, of course. He felt out of place because he was horrible at being a human being, and he was taking it out on Prometheus. He was projecting, the jackass. Prometheus snorted and shook his head. It didn't mean what he'd said wasn't true. A call snapped Prometheus out of consideration of his own place-out-of-place and he twisted his long tail-feathers to steer over toward the sound. He wasn't sure he wanted to participate in flights. They seemed a bit silly, really, and who knew what would happen to the kid of a mutt. It wasn't like there were other mutts. For all Prometheus knew, there had been other mutts, but they hadn't ever hatched. On the other hand, that strange, undulating half-shriek-half-who-knew-what-sound interested him on more than just the academic level. He snorted again at the stupidity that was his own hormones apparently rebelling against him. Well, he could try. His luck, this would be an Air who would require never-before-seen acrobatics out of her flight-worthy suitors, in which case there'd be no place for him. Again. Despite his stunning good looks (he preened at little) there were some things that could not be helped. He was slightly surprised when he reached the source of the noise, only to find one of his classmates in the middle of still-green forest. But then, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised by the forest. Astraea was, after all, a Forest dragon. Maybe the forest had listened to her and stayed green when perhaps it should have gone to fire colors. Prometheus landed carefully, the wind under his wings failing as he let it go and landed with a heavy thump on all four feet at once. And here he was, a giant mutant in the company of two Forests. He preened briefly, determined to look like he was not the least bit uncomfortable. After all, he knew he was handsome. His Air ancestry had given him that much. "I'm Prometheus--we were classmates, but I don't believe I ever truly met you. It's a pleasure to finally do so," he said smoothly, striding from where he'd landed to join the two Forests and greeting the lady first. He nodded to the other male, as well, though he didn't recognize him. It was always best to be polite, no matter what one's rider seemed to think. |
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| Nherva | Jan 23 2014, 11:46 AM Post #4 |
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Lurker Queen
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He had gone. For what reason he knew not, the Water had bade his rider a temporary goodbye under the excuse that he was simply going to stretch his wings. However little that helped with his gracefulness anyway. Fathom would never fly so nice and neatly as some other breeds, as his element and his shape was best suited for the marine environments, but he seemed to think that the more he practiced the better he might be. Perhaps he also needed some time to clear his head. He’d now been turned down twice by a female whose call he answered. It was possible that now that Narcissa’s flight was over and that disappointment fresh that he could go back to enjoying his life as it should be without the worry of answering any more siren sounds echoing over the distant landscapes. He could ignore them all, but first he had to nurse his wounds of rejection. Was there something wrong with him? What was the average success rate of a normal everyday male dragon? Was he just too young? Was he too friendly or not friendly enough? So many questions swarmed his mind like a hive of bees. Ahnu was always criticizing him for his manners and his lack of a realization of personal space and he’d been working on that, but it seemed there was still something else. Something more he was not seeing. Maybe he needed to get to know a lot of females, so that when the time was right, he might know one well enough to be chosen at last, to find not only a love he could call his own but also produce offspring—which he was certain he’d love just as much as anything. Perhaps waiting was the best choice for him. He could ignore the calls. Or…maybe not. He was flying over the jungle again, in search of a quiet stream in which to submerge himself and think on things when another heated cry broke his concentration. The sound of the cry raked down his silvery scales like teasing claws. He shook his head. No, it didn’t make sense to do it again when he’d only just been rejected. But…Narcissa had said he was handsome. Was he? He wouldn’t know if it bit him in the ass. But the Air herself was so regal and pretty surely she knew what she was talking about. Not all females cared much about appearance, sometimes it was their smarts. Fathom never claimed to be the smartest dragon in the world, but he thought his crown was particularly clever at the time. Maybe he did just need practice. You had to play to win after all. He convinced himself in the span of a few seconds and angled toward the sound of that calling female, his belly nearly scraping the tops of several trees as he made the awkward motion to change directions. He could see shapes above the trees in the distance. Others. He didn’t see competition, he saw friends, which might have been his mistake all along. Regardless, the amiable Water swooped down toward the source, following the small Forest as he descended. Fathom didn’t see the odd little crossbreed from the last hatching until he landed, but once he did, all of his frills rose happily as he greeted them all. But first he addressed the female, he remembered her. She was younger than he, hatched at the last hatching he witnessed with gusto whilst his rider snoozed in the stands next to him. “Hello Astraea,” he said, bowing his head respectfully whether she could see it or not—manners, he repeated to himself. Then he looked back at the other males. “Hello! I am Fathom,” his huge tail thumped once on the ground. Teal eyes regarded both Hemlock and Prometheus with geniality and he barely caught himself from starting a conversation with Prometheus about what it was like to be both Air and Earth. He had never seen a crossbreed dragon before but he supposed it must have been interesting, maybe even fun, to have control over two elements instead of one. But there were other times for that. Astraea was the one that should have had all of his attention. “Pleased to meet you all. Especially you Lady Forest,” he told Astraea, using the most polite and friendly words he knew of so that he didn’t turn her off or disgust her outright with his demeanor. One of these days, he was going to learn, come hell or high water. |
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| Nimirra | Jan 23 2014, 03:47 PM Post #5 |
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Meathods of Madness
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Night loomed with its dusky cape still draped across the horizon, slowly rescinding its curtain to the creeping light of dawn dusting the sky’s seam with rose blush. The fresh drafts of white snow blanketing the ground camouflaged the alabaster stone of the Academy impeccably, giving the expansive grounds an ethereal atmosphere, monochromatic yet still stunning despite the pale lack of pigment to paint the scene. Upon one of the many terraces boasted by the mighty fortress lay the scholar, breaking the semblance of single tone supremacy with splotched black dripped over pearly scales, ink splattered haphazardly on the ghostly visage of the Chaos to compile his specter’s form. He watched the changing colors of the sky with a different color tinting his thoughts, bleak but positive hope dwindling with the fading of the stars just as watching the sunsets for so many evenings had woven his mind with a precarious web of doubt. A web that stretched far beyond a matter of months, spun from the depths of his early days training within the Academy, from the fateful battle that had lost him his leg and slim soldiering of his own elemental empowerment. But even amidst the primordial darkness that he believed his soul lay, the self-searching exercise from the Rosemary’s flight had allowed the small rays of possibility to spark, flashing with fleeting promise just as the fireflies golden glows had. Perhaps there was promise yet for even the most condemned of spirits yet. Maybe there was a way to harness what he had hardly fathomed probable. A shrill cry rang out, disrupting his mulling mind in a heart-pumping rush of adrenaline and answering hormones. Where once he would have attempted to fight or flee the sensation he now mused inwardly, breaking down and deconstructing the probabilities of what that clarion call entailed as it sang out from the depths of the forest. Perchance, if for no other reason than his own wry amusement, he would bid one last female his answering presence. If nothing else, at least a good test from the other gender might drain his unstaunched energy he’d been unable to cognitively exhaust from Anastasia’s exotically orchestrated ritual hours prior. Leathery, obsidian sails unfurled their vast canvases, a cloak catching and filling with chilly breezes as they swathed along his sides to assist him in righting himself to his three paws. With the soft rustling of membrane and rattle of scales, Mazhrekan slid off the lip of the dais, wings snapping open and billowing with the air collected from the short-lived dive, fueling his aerial travel to the source of the ringing sound, runes flickering with aurum and carmine holograms to light his pathway into the wooded paths below. Snow soon dispersed in the thicket, kept out by way of magic or nature’s innately stubborn will. Soon the countenance of the creature whose call had summoned them coalesced before his salmon hued eyes. She was as curiously built as the arachnid Rosemary he had met earlier in the night, distinctly a Forest in her own right judging by her chosen arena and the curving canines that jutted past her upper lip. The rest of her was nearly as unusual as he himself, a wondrously maned mistress with thick, bark-like scales that scalloped her back and delicate hooves that graced the ground tenderly beneath her. Having gathered a good look at her as he had pulled up for a cautious landing, he let his pinions tuck to his sides and spines settle along his back. Snaking his jaggedly crowned head regally atop a swanning neck, he offered his greeting to the Forest, devoid of his usual depreciation of himself, “Nature whispers and so the Chaos answers. Mazhrekan is my name, if you will have me here within your dominion.” |
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| Kialish | Jan 23 2014, 08:09 PM Post #6 |
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Unregistered
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Ever since his encounter with Narcissa and her enjoyable flight, Pierre had been out in the cold much more than before. Although he avoided the muddy mess that was between the frozen days, he was in the air near daily. The rooster based air dragon had been listening more keenly for the calls of the females, more eager now to answer to the primal call to sire children, to continue his line. He had lost in Narcissa's flight, however he held the winner no grief; Zeal had shown an absolutely amazing display (although he still thought his was better...) and had won her heart in the end. But he was sure that he would have his chance to sire if he flew more females! However, he was asleep when Astrae's song had cut through the dawn. Pierre jumped to his feet, skittering around at the soft song. Durens snores were obnoxiously loud, as he had obviously not heard the darlings call, so Pierre felt no grief in leaving. With a scaled talon, he pulled back the tarp that blocked the dragon entry, leaping into the wind eagerly. His element reached up to greet him as he snapped open his quartet of wings, taking the inertia of his jump to speed along. The song was still echoing in his head, giving him a location. And other males, as well. Manipulating his element, he rose on higher winds, speeding up. He hoped the singer of the song would be patient, not be hasty in her decisions! He wanted a fair chance to impress her! He flipped in the air excitedly, shooting off towards the jungle. The call had come from a clearing in the dense forestry, where the small forest female resided. Ah, yes, she was an interesting one! Young, but beautiful and very unique. A most beautiful female. But of course, such a lovely female would attract many worthy competitors! He was nary the first to arrive, but he had a feeling he was the last. Among the small cluster of males, he recognized at least one face, that of Fathom, the water male who had been a competitor in Narcissa's flight as well. He dipped his head in greeting to the other males, before landing on terra firma. "Air Pierre has answered your call, my beautiful forest goddess," He crowed extravagantly, bowing a scaly knee before her. He knew she was blind, but still felt compelled as a gentleman to do so. |
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| Zinc | Jan 23 2014, 09:36 PM Post #7 |
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The Owl Waife
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The blind Forest stood in the calm stillness of the cool morning. Her ears twitched occasionally, breaking her peaceful, yet statuesque posture as she awaited the arrival of any suitors. Though uneasiness warred with the burning lust that demanded she move, move, move, she knew in that logical part of her mind that often overrode the instincts that led her kin, knowing that so long as she remained, the males would come. She was all in favor of allowing nature to take over in some cases, but she had her own plans and particulars for this event, and would allow for a…lapse in judgment…at a later occasion. A part of her felt a little thrill at the thought of such an event, and she felt Aedre stir on the far end of her bond, and the Forest summoned that calm façade she had constructed prior, allowing the scent of the pines and the evergreens to wash through her and cool the fire once again, though even such settling reminders of her grounding element were unable to quench the flames completely, especially when the first signs and sounds of her suitors began to appear. One by one, then until there were five in all. The Forest was taken aback by the number that had come to heed her call, but felt she had adequately prepared for such an occasion at the behest of more experience riders and other females whose opinions she had sought. The first male to arrive the forest reached for as surely as it reached for her, heralding him as one of her own breed. His scent was sharp and vivid like fresh sap, and though his display of flaring his vivid flares was lost to her and her sightless eyes, she still smiled benevolently in his direction, “A pleasure, brother of my element,” inclining her head in a courteous bow before she turned to the next suitor, shaking her lank mane out of one blind eye, which seemed to fix unerringly upon her old classmate, who landed on heavy feet. It took her a moment to place his voice, though his introductions summoned his memory in her mind causing her to lift her head a bit in recognition. “Ah, indeed, Prometheus, I know of you.” She stated easily, that same smile appearing on her features, clearly her diplomatic expression, used to give away nothing but her more positive thoughts and not the thoughts behind them. If Astraea remembered correctly, he was the dual breed that had been an unexpected arrival on their sands. She had seen little of him, and had not spoken with him, though she, and likely the rest of the wyrmling class, knew there was turmoil between him and his bonded. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you formally as well.” Even as she was speaking, one long ear was already swiveling to take in the arrival of the iridescent Water, Fathom. Astraea felt a flicker of surprise that this stranger knew her, but she supposed as a youth from the latest hatching, being known by the other dragons was not to be unexpected, and aside from a slight parting of her jaws, managed to keep the surprise from her muzzle. That same cloudy grey eye peered blankly in Fathom’s direction, and she heard the soft scrape of scales and the ruffling of frills as the dragon moved, possibly in a respectful bow of sorts. Astraea felt uncomfortable for a moment, knowing she did not have Aedre to help bounce images to her to get a better grasp on what she was sensing in the world when sounds might have confused her, but aside from a hesitant half step backwards and her ears flicking first back, then forward, she recovered quickly. He smelled cool and clear, like mountain streams, if not a bit fishy. But she supposed that was just a trait of Waters. There came the heavy thud of his tail before he greeted the other suitors as well, and Astraea felt a small twist of pleasure that the male had thought to acknowledge his competition as more than simply other pieces to beat. “Well met to you as well, Fathom, though I fear you might know me better than I do you.” She laughed softly. A heavier sound of wings rushing to the clearing interrupted the silence between arriving suitors to herald Mazhrekan’s arrival, and though he seemed…wrong to Astraea in all the senses she could grasp his form with, he still greeted her properly and respectfully. The grass did not cringe from him as it did from Taints that had sometimes graced the Academy’s walls, but it did acknowledge the otherness of the dragon, who stood upon it’s surface with only three legs. He was crippled, Astraea realized, her ears straining forward as she listened to the male’s greeting. “Hail and well met, Chaos.” She returned respectfully, before her mouth tipped up around her long fangs. “It would be a pleasure to have you here for this day which some might consider auspicious.” She paused, “Though I would hardly call this my dominion.” She smiled a bit toothily, turning her head to listen as the wind blew through the winter-dry trees. Oh no, she would be a fool to think she owned any of this. She, like all creatures, had come, and would go. But they would remain. It was when the fifth male arrived that Astraea decided it would be a good time to begin. She heard the careful slip of air through smoother wings than those of the prior males aside from Prometheus with their wings of sail and skin. Four limbs beat the air, indicating the presence of an Air, yet another she had not met, leaving her with only the acquaintance of Prometheus as her only familiarity in this Flight she was undertaking. Enthusiasm seemed the cape and scepter of this male, who crowed jubilant introductions and showered upon her the compliment of forest goddess. Had she the capability to, the dragoness might have blushed, but she instead, ducked her head just a bit, chin tucking close to her chest in a movement some might call self-conscious. “Well..I…” she cleared her throat a bit, shaking herself out like a bothered horse, trying to regain her composure in the face of a bit of girlish flustering. “Thank you for joining me, Pierre.” She finally managed. “And I thank you for the compliment.” She added, managing to keep her diplomatic tone before she stepped back and swung her head along the line of suitors. “Thank you all, for seeking to chase me, but as you and I both know, there is only one suitor that I will pick, and for that, I have created a challenge.” Behind her, the doorways to her challenge remained sealed as she spoke. Astraea saw it as important to address her interests now, so any males that were uninterested in her reasonings would have their chances to leave, though she desperately hoped that her logical means of going about this weren’t off-putting to any of them. Though she supposed most males wouldn’t care… “For my Flight, while I find as well as any female that a strong mate is important, I am looking for a combination of both a sharp mind as well as a strong body.” Her ears fluttered about, listening for any comments or grumbled thoughts any males might voice as she spoke. “So my challenge will be a combination of the two.” She stated, sounding confident. “You will partake in the challenge which you find within, and as you go through it, you will be looking for a slip of parchment, upon which will be written a riddle. Once you have found your riddle, it is up to you to come up with the answer, and then seek me out in the depths of the forest to present your answers. And it is then that, based on your performances, that I shall decide a winner.” She finished, and then hesitated a moment before she inclined her head to all of them. “I wish you luck.” Behind her, the walls of brush and small saplings suddenly shifted aside as if heralding the kirin-like Forest as she turned to walk through them and disappeared into the forest. The path remained open behind her, and the males would find that it branched off into five distinct pathways, one for each of them. --- (Hemlock) As Hemlock proceeded down his chosen path, he would find that it was lightly covered by branches and other leafy boughs of evergreens, though the trees quickly thickened into interlocking weaves, looking almost like a network fencing with their wild growth. The trees form a tunnel before breaking apart into a large clearing that appears to have been covered by a fine net. In the middle of the clearing a single man stands and in front of him are what appear to be two dozen gryphons of varying colors. At seeing the serpent-like Forest’s arrival, all the gryphons let out alarmed shrieks and take off into the air, flying hap-hazard patterns. The man, after relaxing from his protective posture he assume din the flurry of take off, goes to meet the male. “Them’s all from the postal wing. Don’t hurt em none, or I’ll stick me boot firmly up yer arse.” He put his hands on his hips, inspecting the Forest without fear for a moment before he continued, “One of em’s got yer riddle round it’s neck. Though they’ve all got pouches.” He explained, gesturing to the still harried creatures zooming about. “Think it’s a brown.” He shrugged. “Can’t really remember.” A wicked gleam entered his eye though as he looked smugly back at the Forest, “But I do know they ain’t been trained yet. They don’t like dragons. Good luck. I’ll be watching, and she’ll be waitin.” He stepped back to stand on the opposite side of the clearing that Hemlock had entered by a secondary tunnel. Roll a Dice! 1-3: Haven’t you already caught that gryphon before? Ouch. He seems to remember you! He’s out for blood! You struggle to find the right gryphon, but eventually get it right! 4-7: Well, it took a few tries and the gryphons certainly aren’t thrilled with you, and most likely vice versa, but you got the right bird! 8-10: Well done! You found the right bird after maybe one or two mishaps! You didn’t hurt him right? Well…he’s probably fine…probably…Claim your riddle and move on! Riddle: What is put on a table, cut, but never eaten? --- (Prometheus) The path taken by Prometheus seems to get darker and murkier as he goes, as if he’s wandered in the direction of a more swampy part of the forest, the dark firs growing thick and dense around him as he moves and the heavy smell of peat fills the air. The cold air grows slightly humid and seems thick and dark, even in the early morning. Half frozen marshy soil underfoot heralds the clearing before Prometheus sees it. A small peninsula extends into a large pond of soupy green water. A rounded island inlet houses one lone tree, tall and stark with it’s bare, bone-like branches reaching towards the sky, it looks as imposing as the environment in which it had been situated, but the path had not steered the crossbreed wrong, as nailed to the tree, the beige parchment stark against the greyish bark, the curled paper of the riddle was situated. As the crossbreed would step out onto the peninsula, he would quickly see that things were not as simple as they would seem however, as with sudden lashing like a viper, and seizing any piece of the dragon they can tighten about, be it wing, tail, or limb, coming from both sides and tightening like a noose dragging him to the ground. If the vines are freed unevenly, the unsuspecting crossbreed faces the possibility of being dragged into the water, though the threat of drowning is none, as if such happens, they will release and allow him to fetch his riddle unimpeded. If the tree is reached before the vines manage to drag him into the water, they cease their attack. Roll a Dice! 1-3: You are dragged into the water. 4-7: You are nearly dragged into the water before you shake off the vines and manage to reach the riddle. 8-10: You see the vines coming and manage to avoid enough of them to get to the riddle in time to avoid any serious harassment from the vines. Riddle: Lives without a body, hears without ears, speaks without a mouth, to which air alone gives birth. --- (Fathom) This path seems more open than the rest, and more well tread. Soft dirt and sandy soil lines the pathway which is wide an inviting with the beginning dapples of pinkish and orange morning sun trickling through the branches. The path swells out into a wide hollow, which is surrounded by deciduous trees, though no grass grows within the central part of the hollow, which is comprised of the same sandy soil as the path that the Water traversed prior. The hollow is occupied by another dragon, a rather sleek and scarred female Lightning who appears more bored than anything. She sharpens and straightens up, sparks running over her blue-grey scales at Fathom’s appearance however, and calls a greeting. “Hey there,” she grins. “I’m your challenge.” She puffs out her chest proudly, electricity humming between her horns for a moment. “You’ve got to fight me. And win.” She adds, sounding smug and haughty, confident in her abilities. “Let’s say…pin me.” She decides. “No lethal force, though element is certainly allowed, even encouraged.” Here she grins, more electricity humming across her body in a quick circuit before it extinguishes. “Then I’ll give ya your riddle, ‘kay lover boy?” she asks teasingly, batting her eyes and laughing. No dice roll for this! Simply beat your opponent in any manner you see fit! She is totally yours to puppeteer, and once you have beaten her, she will give you her riddle (by paper or orally, it’s up to you) and then you can continue on your way in search of Astraea! Riddle: When one does not know what it is, then it is something; but when one knows what it is, then it is nothing. --- (Mazhrekan) As Mazhrekan travels his path, he will quickly find that the sandy, soil-like ground that was similar to Fathom’s own path quickly becomes hard-packed and stony underfoot. The trees around him begin to disperse and become fewer as it becomes apparent he’s nearing the edge of the forest and heading towards the canyon lands not far beyond the edges of the reaches of the trees and grass. The path ends before the trees however, and open into a large, irregular clearing full of pale, hard packed soil and small pebbles scattered here and there. However, there is quite the anomaly decorating this clearing. It’s littered with dozens and dozens of grey stones, perhaps the size of large dogs, and perfectly round. Assisted by an Earth no doubt, these have been placed all over the clearing in varying patterns and irregular sets. Chaotic, suiting to it’s suitor indeed. But in the very center of this irregular clearing one of these grey stones rests in two halves, split evenly down the middle revealing the brilliant geode in the center. Within one of the halves lays a single bloom of a Jacob’s ladder, indicating that within one of these stones lays the riddle that the Chaos seeks. Roll a dice! 1-3: Of all the rotten…you nearly clear out the entire clearing before you find where the riddle is hidden. 4-7: Remember that patience is a virtue! You find the riddle after going through about half the stones. 8-10: Luck was with you today! You manage to find the riddle fairly quickly. Riddle: I can run but never walk, I have a mouth but never talk, have a head but never weep, I have a bed but never sleep. --- (Pierre) Perhaps the shortest of the paths, this one seems to be full of tall and imposing trees that stretch themselves towards the skies and grow tightly together. These old giants creak and crack in the cold like grumbling old men keeping their own council. When they finally give up the ghost of their secret challenge within their depths, it is revealed to be the smallest of the clearings. At least in circumference, for the canopy stretches high, high above the head of the Air who has traversed his way into their depths. But the air above is a spider web of woven patterns of vines and platforms offering places to land and calculate moves. It’s clear that once the first platform is reached, that there is very little hope for true flight within the depths of this maze, and it will call for precise movements and quick aerial work if you want to reach the top, where the riddle that you seek hangs upon a bit of string, blowing delicately in the breeze. Roll a dice! 1-3: You have quite a bit of trouble, and get tangled up in the vines, mostly wrecking the maze and probably your pride too. 4-7: Though you’re hung up a few times and stumped by where to go next once or twice, you manage to navigate the maze without too much trouble. 8-10: Vine maze? Hah! You could do this in your sleep! You nearly did it seems! Bully for you! Riddle: I’m the part of the bird that’s not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean yet remain dry. --- OOC: Okay guys! This is the test! Accomplish your tasks and figure out the answers to your riddle (Try not to use google? I mean I can’t stop you but that’s no fun when everyone automatically gets the answer right xD). The dice rolling was mostly so I could also get a variety of experiences with how you all handled your mazes and tasks, after all I didn’t want it to all be simple ‘second try I got it’. Blame me for liking flavor. A good resource for a ten sided dice is random.org, and you can enter 1-10 as your numbers and then randomize for your result. Please be honest <3 And bad performance won’t ruin anything. My next post with Astraea will go up Tuesday, where she’ll accept your answers and make her decision! Good luck with your tasks, suitors! |
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| Nherva | Jan 24 2014, 02:02 PM Post #8 |
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Lurker Queen
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((Good lord Astraea I am sorry for this xD )) Fathom looked to see two more males join them before the answers to Astraea’s call seemed to cease. If he could have blushed, he might have, for he realized at the Forest’s admission that just because he remembered seeing her when she hatched, didn’t mean she knew who he was. Frills drooped slightly as he thought he might have hurt his chances by being so forward. Apparently it was going to take a lot more practice and perhaps a lot more losses before he was going to actually learn how all this worked. Just being friendly wasn’t all there was to such things—that much he had learned so far. Females didn’t always want friendly. They wanted strength, smarts, and sometimes the ability to stick around and care. Fathom was almost sure he could do all of that if he tried, particularly the latter, for he tended to get attached quickly and anyone that was his friend he was loyal to no matter what. He was only strong by virtue of his build, but that didn’t mean he was a good fighter. He wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box, but he was far from stupid, he just had a more concrete way of thinking of the world. Briefly, he wondered if he could show this female all those things in her one given trial. He could do anything she asked of him. And he would. With her announcement of her task, the kirin Forest revealed the entrance to his challenge. It seemed pretty easy from the looks of things, but then, Kadrim’s trial had seemed easy. But he had failed at most of those riddles and there was to be another here. The Water steeled himself, telling himself that he could figure it out, he just had to put his mind to it. He could Impress this pretty lady. Moving forward, his lengthy body seemed to surge on his shorter legs like the swell of a wave as he disappeared, leaving the other suitors to their tasks and Astraea to hers. The path itself was easy enough, though he kept his eye out for pitfalls and challenges that might be hidden in the brush. Being a larger breed of dragon, he had to stop and look around several times to see everything he might have otherwise overlooked for being too small, but he managed and soon came upon his challenge. Fathom froze at the sight of the scarred, but spark wielding female there in the clearing. She was certainly no monstrous Mycotic Earth, but she was there to fight him. Another fight. Again. Fathom and Ahnu hadn’t had the opportunity to become ingrained into the serious fighting of the war, having been wyrmlings through the end of it, so he hadn’t had much in the way of training. Besides, he always thought there were better solutions to problems than fighting unless the other party insisted. But it was a sacrifice of actually knowing how to fight well. This female looked experienced, and she spoke as though she was experienced. He was bigger than she was, but somehow he doubted that mattered. “I um…are you sure we have to fight?” he shifted his weight uncertainly on his feet. “I don’t want to hurt you...not even by accident. I’m a little clumsy…,” he admitted to her, hoping she would let him pass anyway, but her task had been set before her by Astraea and it was unlikely she would deviate from it. The Lightning only laughed, “Sorry kid, you don’t have a choice unless you want to give up. Trust me, you’re not going to hurt me,” she gave him a sharp but confident look, sparks arcing over her spine and spreading out over her thickly membranous wings in a visual challenge. “So what’ll it be? We going to do this or are you going to chicken out?” Fathom’s head snapped back into an offended S curve. “I am not a chicken!” He was more offended because his main concern had been her well-being and not his own. “If this is what Astraea wishes me to do for her to prove myself then I will, but I am not afraid of you.” He snorted, but he didn’t get a chance to return the Lightning dragoness’s challenge, for his admission that he was going through with it was enough for her. She leapt at him, jaws agape and sparks flying through her teeth. He just barely had time to roll his massive serpentine body out of her way. As a youngster he might have yelled about how underhanded and unfair her pounce had been, but as it was he didn’t have the time for such things, and her insult had incited his ire at last. As she barely missed where he’d been standing, he whipped his head around and blasted a stream of freezing water in her direction, hoping to knock her off her feet so he could simply turn and pin her, but she’d expected it. As an afterthought the Water realized she’d probably set him up, because she lashed back with her own element, which clung to his like a desperately drowning man to shore and traveled up his attacking stream in the blink of an eye. White fire exploded behind his eyeballs and his body gave a painful spasm as electricity raced through his synapses and hydrophilic cells. He yelped in pain and staggered backward, shaking his head to clear his vision and regain some sense of his extremities. Everything felt numb. “Nice try,” the Lightning cackled. She hadn’t jolted him enough to kill him, but it certainly hurt like the dickens. Fathom gulped in a deep breath, his seafoam eyes re-focusing on his opponent as she stalked tauntingly in front of him. Oh why was he even here? He’d already been rejected twice for reasons he hadn’t figured out yet. Surely if there was something wrong with him, this was part if it. His inability to truly want to take down an opponent. He didn’t want to hurt her, even when he was under attack the most he ever wanted was to disable his attacker enough to be able to get away himself. Killing or hurting anyone wasn’t something he ever wanted. He was holding back on purpose, as he always did. He was meant to hold back this time, she’d said no deadly force, but if he truly wanted Astraea, then he was going to have to act and keep his wits about him so he didn’t do anything harmful on accident. Using his brain and his body at the same time, that was going to be fairly new. “Aww, did my little shock scramble your brains? Poor dear.” The lack of true concern in the Lightning’s voice did for Fathom what he could not do for himself. He would not be put down as the little greenhorn Water that he had been since graduation and let the others know he had failed. It was time to grow up. Without words, Fathom surged forward, arcing his body toward the Lightning in one direction. She made to dance out of his way, but he had used his brain for once and anticipated that she might, he brought his heavy tail around and blocked her. Her body slammed into that wall of silvery flesh and it was her turn to stagger backward in surprise. It brought her right into his trap. Long, sinuous body curled in upon itself, wings tangling with hers even as he circled her as a constrictor might encircle its prey. Short forearms raised off the ground just enough to stabilize on the Lightning’s slender shoulders and he forced her to the ground, fangs bared. “Uncle! Uncle!” The Lightning cried. Half of her was trapped in his coils while the other half was forced onto the soil beneath them. It took Fathom a second to realize she was calling it finished, but the fire in his eyes died in an instant and he backed off, unfurling and releasing her, a regrettable look on his face, fins held back against his scales in shame. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her. “I am sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I--,” “Now that’s what I’m talking about. You might make a fine warrior one day if you stop letting that complex keep you from doing what you were born to do,” she said as she preened herself to correct any misplaced scales or feathering. She seemed seasoned enough to know that it was his mind getting the best of him in situations like that. The scar on his shoulder was evidence of that as well. “Now then, your prize.” She settled down in the clearing and cleared her throat. “When one does not know what it is, then it is something; but when one knows what it is, then it is nothing. Answer this for your lady and you might have a chance at being her choice. Now go before I zap you again, ha!” She sparked again, one arc reaching dangerously close for the Water once more. “Thank you…um…have a good day,” he said kindly and backed out of the clearing, not turning his back on the Lightning until she was out of sight. Now he had this riddle to figure out. He had managed to fight and win…but riddles were the worst. He’d failed at least two with Kadrim, which was probably why she hadn’t chosen him even though he returned with a few things, so if he failed this one, then Astraea might turn her nose up at him too. “Oh…what’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbled into the dappled light of the rest of the pathway as he slowly made his way to the end and hopefully the Forest. He stamped a webbed foot on the ground and pondered as hard as his little brain could manage. “What the heck is something when you don’t know what it is and nothing when you do know what it is?” He bellyached out loud, frilled tail lashing behind him. As he continued to walk, he talked to himself, repeating it over and over again aloud. “It’s something, then it’s nothing…it’s something, then nothing…how does that even happen? What is just there and something…then not there and nothing?” He made circles and circles around, then finally collapsed in frustration, his breath sending up great plumes of dust into the air. He couldn’t just approach Astraea with nothing… Or…could he? It dawned on him in those moments of lying in frustrated coils in the middle of his pathway on the ground. The very answer to his riddle, was the riddle itself! It had to be, what else was nothing once you knew what it was? Now his riddle was nothing but a collection of words, it wasn’t a riddle once you knew the answer. Renewed with a burst of hope, Fathom sprang to his feet and romped the rest of the way to the end, where he skidded to a halt in front of Astraea, so proud of himself he thought he might burst. “I know it! I know it! I know what it is!” he pranced in place. “The only thing that can be something when you don’t know it but nothing once you do is a secret! Or a riddle like this one,” he trilled happily. At this point, even if she outright rejected him for his enthusiasm or anything else, he couldn’t have cared. He had just done two things that were far from his strengths. It meant he was developing, becoming smarter and stronger, and nothing could sour that sort of improvement for him. |
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| Foxikoosh | Jan 25 2014, 04:35 PM Post #9 |
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BOTANY
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Prometheus considered the path in front of him for a long time before he strode forth to follow it. The path was certainly big enough for him, but not so big as to be entirely comfortable, and he kept his wings pulled tight to his body, feathers all slicked down as the way grew darker and the air grew more humid. He paused every so often to scent the air, recalling the last time he'd sensed such a change in the air. He even tried to use his earth sense and air sense to tell him what was ahead, just in case it was another giant tentacley angry sea beast, but everything was quiet. If there was anything ahead, he couldn't tell. Granted, he couldn't usually tell… but it'd been worth a try. He was waiting for something to jump out of the murky air, for a tree to try to snag him or something, but the trees were still. It smelled like earth here, more than anything else except damp. Somewhere nearby, he knew, there was thick, spongy, dark earth perfect for drying and burning. Peat, a peculiar phenomenon of damp, cool places with lots of plants, was somewhere nearby. Despite the water-logged half-frozen ground on which he now walked, this gave him some confidence. Water-logged air was not easy for him to work with, but perhaps he could work with water-logged soil. His wings dropped slightly as he let the smell of soil wrap around him, helped a little bit by a sluggish cloak of air. When he reached the strange clearing with the slightly creepy tree, he raised his head again to sniff at the water-laden air and watched the murky green pond. It was too small for a kraken, at least, but he didn't trust it, and he didn't like water. He didn't like it when it was clean, mercifully clear, and contained within a pre-built pond back at the Academy. Usually he took dust baths unless he had no other option, and because it pissed Jaime off and made him sneeze. But he was going to have to go near this water if he wanted his riddle, because it was pinned to the tree out in the middle of the pond. At least he didn't have to go in the water-- there was a little slip of land going out to the island. He supposed he always could have flown, but he was uncomfortable leaving the ground here. It was too hard to see, and the trees would stop him anyway, clearing or no. It certainly wasn't a large enough clearing for taking off, anyway. Still sniffing intently at the air and swinging his head back and forth to watch the forest and the water, he took a step onto the land bridge. Nothing happened, and he raised his head, ceasing his search of the immediate area. He fanned his tail thoughtfully and ruffled up the feathers along his neck. Perhaps the difficulty inherent in this task was in overcoming his own tendency to overthink and worry himself. He took a more confident stride out in the the middle of the land bridge, eyes on the tree. He never even saw the first vine that erupted from the water to lash around his foreleg. With a squawk, he pulled away, only for more vines to reach out from both sides, grabbing at wings, legs, horns, and even his beak. He was sure another kraken was attacking him, and he responded accordingly, pulling and lashing out with his claws and trying to bring the earth to his aid. But, distracted by the vines, he couldn't hold his attention long enough to do anything of real significance, and even his attempts to bite the things binding him ended when the one around his beak constricted, wrapping several times around to hold it shut. They yanked at his legs until one went out from underneath him, slipping on a patch of frozen grass, and he screeched furiously as he went down, using his momentum to roll. He felt the vines on one side give and latched his claws into the ground to keep himself from rolling all the way into the water. The vine around his beak likewise snapped, and he shook his head to dislodge it. Now that he'd realized they were vines and not a kraken, he wanted the vines that were trying to keep him from his goal dead. He wanted them deader than dead, because they were hindering him and they'd frightened him, and he did not appreciate being frightened. The vines apparently had other ideas. Though Prometheus had grabbed onto the earth and willed it to hold him, climbing up his lower foreleg to anchor him, the vines didn't stop pulling. First his hind end went into the freezing water, and he yelped at the cold, trying to pull himself back up onto the land. Then his concentration slipped and the earth fell off from around his front leg, and the whole rest of him fell into the water. He squawked disgracefully as the water closed over his face just momentarily, and then the vines fell away. Frantic, he scrambled back onto the comparatively dry land and stood there, shaking and cold. Rather than wait around, he flung himself to the tree and pulled the riddle from the twisted bark before bolting back across to the safety of the mainland. The air was too wet for his usual drying trick. He couldn't even trap warm air next to his freezing body because his body wasn't warm and the air was even colder. Instead, beak clamped shut against shivering, he shook himself as dry as possible and looked across at the island. He snorted softly at it--so there-- and marched resolutely from the little lake and the tree and the horrible vines. The piece of paper was likewise clenched in his beak, but he didn't remember until he reached the end of the path. He hadn't even read it, but when he reached the clearing, he opened his jaw and the paper fluttered to the ground, where he looked at it out of one eye and then sat back to think. He was still water-logged, shivering, and cold, but he could do this. What was it? What heard without ears? This was a riddle about one of his elements, for the First Rider's sake. He tried to pull some warm air around himself, but all it did was make a contrary little wind blow about his face, which was utterly unhelpful. He let the wind drop and stared harder at the paper. Wind. It didn't exactly hear, but it listened to the air dragons, and sometimes to mongrels if the command was simple. It was certainly alive as far as he was concerned, and full of the smells that came from life-- good and bad. And it spoke. Anyone who'd heard the feral whistle of a storm knew that the wind was more than capable of speaking when it wanted to be heard. He smiled, the lower half of his beak gaping open with an audible pop as the stress of keeping it clenched shut was suddenly released. Ow. Prometheus shook his head and clacked his beak shut again. "My lady, is the answer to mine 'the wind'? Certainly it meets all those criteria," he ventured, shaking again to dislodge more water from his feathers and then sighing softly when it didn't do much good. This was an utter disaster-- but he was going to pretend he'd fallen into the lake on purpose, or that he at least wasn't bothered by being drenched in water in the middle of winter. No, it didn't bother him. He was a grown dragon, not a wyrmling. He could deal with a little cold. ((In case anyone wonders, I ROLLED A ONE.)) |
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| Ula | Jan 27 2014, 11:03 AM Post #10 |
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Unregistered
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Hemlock felt his frill fall flat as the sounds of wings slapping the air paved the way for the appearance of the colorful mixbreed, as odd as it was to refer to the youth as such given how plenty around shared parents of different elements. There was little time to reflect on the matter as a handful of hopeful males fell from the sky to join them. A shimmering water and a crowned Air with a Chaos in between, all dwarfing him in size. If this was to be a flight of brute strength and stamina, Hemlock felt unprepared. No doubt trying to outshine any of them would sap the very energy from his bones in a matter of minutes. Not to mention the fact that the centerpiece of the evening as actually blind and would miss any visual cues of impression, which the Forest had overlooked even as she turned her head to greet Prometheus thus revealing a milky eye. His chest heaved with relief as she spoke of sharp minds and riddles, doubting the capability of the other competitors to stand up against his agile mind. The mind was his terrain and puzzles, his mastery. A belief held firm in his mind that none could trump him in such a game, the arrogance pressed on by the conceited way the Forest perceived himself. Most of his free time was spent on strengthening his mind, after all. As he pranced off with the sassiness of a proud pony, Hemlock failed to catch what really mattered in the end: her choice. It was her game, her rules, her time and effort placed behind the elaborate challenges. Regardless of who succeeded in answering the riddle, Astraea had the final say over which one of the suitors would leave a victor. As the thought was lost to his churning mind, the Forest proceeded down his path with a smug smile parting his scaled lips. It faltered as the trellis of bent trees broke into a sizeable dome built of a lighter framework. The razor-edged calls of the gryphons pierced the air as they took flight. He trailed their movements with faint irritation brewing behind his slitted pupils, eventually landing on the human that greeted him. Hemlock listened with only half the focus he should have. Luckily, he was able to catch the truly important parts regarding the riddle although only a few words were worth listening to. He had half a mind to hiss a distasteful remark about whether the man had a big enough boot to shove wherever boots were shoved in the human society, and maybe alluding to the saying that often graced words spoken between friendly males about big and small boots and their relation to other parts of human physiology. Thankfully, he didn’t have to time to let the comment come to fruition. He took a moment to shuffle through the chaos of feather and fur that filled the empty space above him. It was hard to pinpoint just one out of the mess, let alone a single gryphon with a slip of paper around its neck. A quiver of anticipation snaked down his spine, ending its journey with an erratic spasm of his rattle. This would be tricky, he thought. In slow precision, his smooth wings unfolded to grasp the air with clawless fingers. The ground fell away as the Forest ascended through the air. A few of the flying felinesque birds screeched out their dismay but quickly fell quiet once Hemlock let out a sharp hiss in return. He didn’t wait to take aim at any particular gyphon. Instead, he’d let whatever predator slept inside him take flight. There was nothing to worry about, after all. The net above them was surely strong enough to keep the gryphons contained. Hopefully. The first gryphon he managed to catch was a frenzied silver. Hemlock landed just long enough to inspect the ruff of feathers around its neck. “Nothing,” he grumbled, sending the creature off by tossing it aside. A few feathers fell from it as it took to the air once more. Something regarding the unfairness of it all crossed the Forest’s mind before he, too, rejoined the flying mass of gryphons for a second time. The next was a lithe brown that streaked past his dexterous fingers one too many times for his liking. By the time he closed his hand around its tiny body, there was no point in landing to see he had yet to catch the correct one. Repeatedly, Hemlock grasped at the wrong gryphons, each mistake adding an ounce of roughness in the following capture. It only took one squeeze to pull a pained squeal from a dainty orange that resulted in a fit of nervousness overcoming the Forest and eventually bringing him down to the ground. Their caretaker shot a blazing look at the contender but was cut off by Hemlock’s quick explanation. “Jussst a few feathersss, nothing dire,” he said with a motion to the crumpled plumes the color of the sun not too far from where he sat. Although he felt there was little time to state an apology to the creature, the guilt was evident in the way he held himself in a hunched posture. It wasn’t the correct way to experience the feeling as it came to a head out of believing the blunder would cost him whatever chance he had of cultivating eggs, not from knowing he brought agony to the tiny orange gryphon. When he finally worked back up to taking to the sky a third time, a vein of luck struck Hemlock. A heavyset brown caught his eye though not for the intricate speckling that dusted his wings. The grin returned with intensity. Buried in the thick collar of feathers was his riddle, peaking out just long enough to grab at his attention. He took off as quick as he could in a windstorm of gryphons, no longer letting their calls and harried flights aggravate him. It took longer than he expected to grab the thing although he should have guessed as much now that he no longer reached for the first gyphon that crossed his path. Both dragon and gryphon were pretty fed up with each other by the end. The creature even lashed back with beak and talons to peck at Hemlock's waiting fingers and hand. No lasting damage was done, of course. Maybe a lost scale or two but nothing that wouldn't grow back. The spirit of the gyphon may have gained him some respect from the Forest but who could really tell. Hemlock was in no way going to stop and shake hands with the bird or congratulate him on his efforts. He put as much care he had behind plucking the slip of paper from between his feathers, thankful for the dexterity he possessed. Gryphons were such fragile creatures compared to dragons. Too much strength put behind one little movement by him would spell the end of death for the spirited gryphon clasped between his claws. There would have been more insight into just how lucky this challenge was for both Hemlock and the flighty creatures if he didn't already have eyes set on the words written down. He released the brown gryphon without a second thought then went to work on solving the riddle. What is put on a table, cut, but never eaten? A perplexed expression crossed his face. That was it? He did all of that just for a sentence? He shifted his weight to settle further into the ground, etching out a little wallow for him to sulk in the anticlimactic finale to his challenge. He let the words tumble over his mind with his sour mood halting the progress every now and then. "We don't ussse tablesss," Hemlock mumbled, flicking a claw at a little clump of grass. But people do, and for many things than just eating. His tail shook at the answer came to him, sending up a clacking melody to join in the sharp calls of the gyphons. He shot past the man as quick as he could, kicking up grass and bits of leaves in his rush to find Astraea. He was not the first to arrive nor the second. The joy left his face momentarily as he graced the crossbred youth and the Water with a 'pleasant' expression. "It'sss a deal," he said, taking no time in cutting to the chase. His eyes left the other males to fall upon the light form of the Forest. "What isss put on a table, cut, but never eaten? A deal." He felt like a deeper explanation was meant to be given but for the sake of not talking down to her, Hemlock pressed his lips together in a smile. He had this one in the bag. |
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| Kialish | Jan 27 2014, 09:32 PM Post #11 |
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Pierre was quite pleased that she showed appeal to her comment. He didn't put too much hope into it, however; if words could woo females, he would surely have had himself a harem by now! But still, it made him happy to know he could still entice females with words. The rooster air waited patiently as she gave her words, wings fluttering eagerly. He eyed his competitors curiously, wondering if they could compete with him. No matter her challenge, he would surely impress her! His past few flights had ended not quite so favorable. Perhaps the beautiful, blind female would show him favor in this run. He watched as she retreated into the forest pathway, eagerly following after her and the males. A pathway split before the five males, each path made for each male. As the others took their leave, Pierre trotted forward, leaping into the air and taking his element beneath his wings. The trees around him were tall, twisted, and imposing. Were he another male, perhaps he would be daunted by them, worried of the secrets that would await him at the end of the brief path. But no! He was confident, ready to take on whatever challenge would rise before him! And then he came upon the small clearing, the true nature of his challenge exposed at last. He circled beneath it, the ball of twisted old branches, vines and leaves a mystery. What hid within it? Was it a maze? A battle? No matter! He took a deep breath, chest puffing out in pride as he flew up towards the first platform. Landing, he observed the tightly coiled walls of the entrance. He would have no chance to fly here, his element little help. Tucking in the quartet of wings, he entered, bird-like claws grabbing for holds within the darkened mass of plant life. It was essentially downhill from there. His first few steps were fine, but as he turned a corner, he stepped in a soft spot, squawking indignantly as his claw fell through the maze. He huffed and clucked, tugging himself free and continuing, hoping to escape with his pride. Perhaps she had not heard? But whether or not she had heard him, she would hear him soon enough. The maze was dark, only bits of dawns light piercing the vegetation to provide him with meager lighting. He could make out his path barely, but not well enough, as he was suddenly entangled in a mass of vines. "My GOODNESS!" He cried out, flailing and scrabbling at the ropes that were wrapping around his neck. Out of instinct, he flared his wings, finding branches jabbing into his soft under-wing and taking out part of the maze in one fell swoop. He tore off the vines, grumbling now and taking more cautious steps. It seemed his caution was completely unrewarded, as yet again he found a mess of vines, and then took out an entire wall, the sky begging for him to take wing. But no, he had to continue, if only for the females heart! And perhaps... Just... Maybe for his pride. He hit several dead ends, was jabbed at least a dozen more times by stray branches, and had accidentally sliced through the maze flooring more then his fair share. By the end, he was sure that the female would disqualify him for making an absolute fool of himself and destroying her carefully crafted maze! His feathers were entirely askew, feathers and a few stray twigs finding themselves homes in his normally so cautiously cared for feathers. He was making low, angry, fowl noises, stretching his wings and more than pleased to be rid of the mess of plant life! It was surely a challenge he had not expected to struggle with so terribly... And what met him at the end was not the female, but a piece of parchment, upon which was scrawled a riddle. "I’m the part of the bird that’s not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean yet remain dry." He muttered, smallish eyes narrowing. He had never been keen on riddles, nor Duren either. They were silly in most times, and a bother the rest! But this was part of his challenge. "Part of a bird... thats not in the sky... Swim the ocean... remain dry..." He ran ideas through his mind. A feather was a part of a bird, but if a feather went into the ocean, it certainly didn't remain dry. A song? No, no, it couldn't be that... His wings ruffled as he thought, shaking lose leaves and twigs. This riddle made no sense at all... All parts of a bird were in the sky, and could get wet! All were physical things, parts of the bird. It might as well be a shadow! Pierre stopped and blinked. "A... Shadow?" He called out cautiously. A shadow could be a part of a bird, and shadows swam in the ocean but could not be wet, for they were not physical things at all! "Yes, a shadow! That is my answer, fair maiden!" |
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| Nimirra | Jan 28 2014, 04:48 PM Post #12 |
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Meathods of Madness
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The runed specter stood silently by as the young Forest offered each new arrival her welcoming words. Her admittance to the jungle being far from her sole property earned her a studious inclination of his crowned skull, both marveled by and impressed with Astraea’s vast insight at such an early age. Mazhrekan patiently waited for her challenge’s instructions to be laid bare for the gathered males, crimson scripture and golden veins lacing their cryptic translations glowing faintly in the dappled lightning offered by the leafy canopy with hushed anticipation for what may soon come to pass. Not long after the kirin bade them each the best of luck, she trotted lightly off upon nimble hooves into her maze as woven saplings and underbrush untangled their interlocked limbs in her wake, granting her simple passage the other trails surely would not uphold. The Chaos remained long after the others had taken their leave, choosing their pathways with articulate care while he remained stalwart in his frozen vigil. Salmon eyes remained trained on the final route remaining, reflecting on the likened deja vu of the autumn Forest whose woods labyrinth he had embarked upon the prior year. History certainly did have an amusing way of repeating itself, he internally noted to himself, wryly entertained by the ironic parallel he had traversed into. Sluggishly sinew beneath piebald scales rippled to life, driving his long frame into his oddly gaited ministrations with his wing arm flexing and extending to take the stead of his missing foreleg. At his own lumbering pace, he prowled along, softly churned earth easily allowing his curved talons to dig in for a secure grip before rotating to the next limb. Noticeably, the texture rapidly began to change underfoot, moisture sapped from the soil as if the sun sought to quelch an insurmountable thirst from the retained water within the dispersing forest’s floor. Pebbles replace the scattered leaves beneath his padded paws as if a meticulous hand had slowly swapped the quantity of flora for flint at a transitional rate, making the illusion appear harder to detect of environmental change until it was too late. And so it was too late, Mazhrekan noted, eyeing the clearing littered with carefully constructed boulders behind rose irises. He gave his progress pause for only a second, sweeping the area for any obvious sign of a devious trap awaiting to be sprung, before yielding to curiosity and shuffling closer to the halved geode that rested at the natural hub. He half expected to find another chick nestled in the faceted depths of the cloven mineral deposit, peeping innocently up at him as his avian companion of present had done upon their first meeting within Hadassah’s maze. Luckily for Ramsis, no fledgling sun bird waited for an unlikely savior that would fall prey to the weighing of life and death’s scales. A simple swatch of Jacob’s ladder nestled in the glittering hollow, quietly weaving the mysterious environment into a simple conclusion. His riddle lay in the magically grown, monstrous geodes, or one of them anyway. His gaze roved over the expanse, the weight of the task before him to seek out what was necessary to continue bowing his shoulders. Bedlam. He stood in a field of chaotically splayed boulders that were equally as disjointed as his own element. Sighing deeply, the half-formed phantom ambled to the nearest slate-hued stone, analyzing it carefully for any fault lines that may be proffered by the surface. A small, hairline fracture lent itself as a plausible weakness in the structure which the Chaos sought to take advantage of. He reared high upon his hind legs, steadied by unfurled wings as he brought his full weight crashing down on the blemish through the force of his remaining palm. The rock shattered obediently, obliterated into a dusty heap of sharded crystalline rock. Any sheet of parchment would have easily been demolished in the wake of the dragon’s first physical lashing, but in a strange course of satirical luck, no shreds of yellowed skin floated by on the settling debris. After searching through the destroyed geode for confirmation that no shredded riddle remained, the Chaos tried a different approach for his next boulder. Lining his tail up with an innocuous target, Mazhrekan swung his skeletally spined tail tip into the lumpy sphere, cleaving it apart in larger quarters once the spider-webbing splinters caved under the sharp pressure. The scholar’s sinuous neck snaked to nose over the remains, admiring the better kept condition of the fostered amethyst growths but unfulfilled in his search for the elusive written riddle that evaded his capture without the slightest measure of effort. A second deep-chested exhalation escaped his maw, exasperated at his immeasurable progress, or lack thereof, with the opaque stones that contained the missing puzzle piece for continuing. The tribal holograms emitted from his body pulsed with the pumping of blood within veins, matching the tempo in a visual exposition of exertion. Stumbling to a third spherical slag, the Chaos collapsed on the craig for support. It was at this opportunity his wayward power leapt forth, spilling from his form in a rush of flaring runic light into the geode as the closest point of contact. Pandemonium in arcane configuration went to work instantly, breaking down and rewriting basic elemental code to its haphazard liking. What once was gritty, solid stone began to shift, morphing slowly from the inside out. Crystalline amethyst copied itself and altered the remaining minerals, slowly encompassing the orb of rock until it sat clear and glittering in the soft amber light of dawn. Clear as a pane of colored glass, the fully crystallized boulder’s faceted fragmental interior was revealed, and within it the small scroll of parchment the dragon sought. Carefully, Mazhrekan extended a talon to the large gem’s surface, daring to draw near as his breached magic seemed to have subsided. Unfortunately, the appearance of arcane stability was a mere illusion. Upon the claw’s contact, the orb rippled, collapsing upon itself in pale lavender waves as colored quartz liquified into fluid, purple glass that had yet to cool and set in a new shape, molecules unbinding and breaking apart as easily as they had been assembled. Amidst the wash of liquid amethyst, the soaked parchment drifted to Mazhrekan’s feet, it’s contained message barely legible from the bled ink and saturated pulp. Squinting with pink-orange eyes, the words that were too smudged could be assembled from memory as the Chaos recognized the quandary bestowed unto him as the Forest’s final challenge. Gently, the Chaos collected the fragile strip of hide and cradled it in his palm, using his pair of pinions as forelegs to steady his wyvern-ish walk as he doubled back into the forest, seeking Astraea’s council. When at last he found her, the other four had already bested his timing, the Air uttering his perceived answer to his own riddle as Mazhrekan approached as the last contender yet again. Splitting open his predatory jaws, his entombed voice rumbled forth, “I can run but never walk, I have a mouth but never talk, have a head but never weep, I have a bed but never sleep.” He quoted from memory, laying the scant remnants of the wilted parchment before him for Astraea to see its barely discernable state of existence. “I have read this riddle before, in one of many philosophical reads my many years of study have allowed me to gain purchase of. A river is the answer you seek, likely, as that is the one of common knowledge. But at times, I wonder, is there another answer that, like the first, is simply within a deeper current waiting to catch a weary traveler in its undertow?” The Chaos absolved, letting his enigmatic articulations return to their more somber setting within his mysterious mind. |
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| Zinc | Jan 28 2014, 05:55 PM Post #13 |
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The Owl Waife
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Astraea had found her way to another large clearing, likened to the one in which she had met her suitors, though it was far deeper into the forest than the prior, and seemed to be comprised mostly of trees of the evergreen variety, their sharply scented sap tainting the air with the smell of green things. The ground here was covered in sparse patches of grass and a carpet of springy needles that had fallen within the clearing over the decades in which the trees had occupied. The kirin Forest had knelt down onto the ground, her wings folded neatly at her side, and her tail tucked around her even as her head remained up and her ears swiveling and alert. She relaxed, allowing herself to sense the forest even as she began to feel her suitors arriving to their challenges. The first one she felt to reach his own, whispered in the sigh of the winds through the trees was the Water dragon, Fathom. She watched and listened to the fight with the eyes and the ears of the forest around her until the victor was decided, going to the Water male, though she was certain, after the battle of electricity versus water, that the victor would surely go to the lightning female she had employed for the task. Her lips curled around her long fangs, happy to proven wrong and know that her suitors were strong enough to overcome. He found his way along her path soon enough. The next to come to his challenge was her old classmate, Prometheus. The strange dragon who was what happened when earth met sky seemed to understand the due caution that might be afforded to her challenge she had laid before him, but unfortunately, such didn’t extend far enough when the trigger of her powers was flipped. The vines seized him, and though he fought and managed to break several of them in sequence, it was the wrong ones that the thrashing dragon had snapped, and he unavoidably found himself dragged into the soupy mess of water before he was released. The cry he had screeched echoed to where she lay, and her ears twisted to catch it as she blinked her sightless eyes in surprise. Perhaps she had been too…forceful. A miscalculation she would not make again. When he emerged from the mess of swamp, he didn’t seem to take much time to stall before he seized the riddle from the tree and skittered away in search of her. Then there was Hemlock, the dragon who was kin to her own breed, though she would not call him family. He seemed slyer in nature, more cunning, and the young Forest wondered if perhaps that would suit his favor in his challenge. As the gryphons took flight, the handler gave his warning. Astraea certainly hoped that the male would heed it, as she herself had promised that no harm would come to the birds so long as they were lent. Though it may have been foolish to extend the promise to protect the birds on behalf of males she did not know, she had faith that they would come out unharmed. Though as Hemlock’s challenge went on, she wondered if perhaps it had been a fool’s promise after all. His frustration seemed to grow until he at last found the proper riddle and like the two before him, found his way on the path that led to her. Then there were the remaining two. The first of which, was Pierre, who, if not for the brush of his wings against the trees, the Forest would have lost track of all together as he made his way down his own path. The mass of vines that had been woven into the maze-like structure for him to traverse seemed to prove perilous for one of his breed. It was possibly more designed for a dragon with one set of wings or a lighter build, judging on how many times he seemed to get caught and catch himself within the vine’s hold. Like with the vines that had ensnared Prometheus, she made a mental note that altercations would need to be made if she were to attempt such again. It seemed that vines were a folly with her, at least when used outside of their intended purpose to grow and climb. But the Air, despite his struggles, reached her riddle, and made his way out of the clearing in which his challenge had been set. Then there was the strange, crippled Chaos, Mazhrekan who’s slow, loping walk had deemed him last to arrive to the challenge she had laid for her suitors. His was an intriguing one, which, like the gryphon’s was built to test patience as well as strength, though the former test required more agility and memory than this one. To her pleasant surprise, he didn’t seem to take much time at all to complete his challenge, though his methods were unorthodox. She could feel the trees that observed, keeping counsel with the young dragoness, proclaiming of the strange touch of that same otherness that touched the stone in which she had held her parchment of riddle. Something in nature shifted and changed completely. She reared her head back, blinking in surprise before she turned her attention away as the first of her suitors came bounding into the arena, then the others in order of their completed challenges. Fathom with his boundless enthusiasm that she could feel in the ground as he galloped in her direction, proclaimed his answer to be ‘A secret’ or ‘A riddle’. Pushing herself back onto her hooves, the dragoness swished her grey tail, smiling in the male’s direction. “That is correct, Fathom. ‘A riddle’ is the answer I sought, and you have brought it to me.” She inclined her head. She had little time to say anything else as Prometheus came next. There was a pop of his beak opening once then shutting again. The dragoness could smell the swampy water upon his feathers, and the cold damp that carried it to her wide nostrils on the wind. It appeared he hadn’t quite managed to dry himself adequately in the duration of her challenge. Oh dear. But he still found it within himself to answer her. She tilted her head, ears folding back just slightly. “The wind is a clever answer, Prometheus. But I am afraid it is not the one I sought. I was looking for ‘an echo’, if you will.” She inclined her head slightly, then paused. “I am sorry that my challenge resulted in you ending up rather…water logged.” She winced a bit. Hemlock’s answer was thrown to the wind as soon as he entered the clearing, and the dragoness looked up in surprise, momentarily baffled before she realized it was the answer he had chosen for his riddle. Astraea’s ears slid forward as she contemplated that answer. “As with Prometheus before, that is a clever answer that works as well as the original, though I sought ‘a deck of cards’ instead of ‘a deal’.” But she respected the answer he had given, and gave him a small smile. The Air Pierre gave his answer next, though he was not nearly as confident in the answering at first as he had been with his compliments that had made her blush so bashfully. Regardless of the fashion in which he answered however, bold or meek, the answer was correct, and she beamed him. “Excellent, Pierre, that is correct.” She inclined her head. Then came her final suitor, heralded by that strange power that the world around her could sense and the sound of his odd gait that was stilted by three limbs and what she was beginning to realize was the sound of one of his wings braced against the ground so that he might keep himself from falling awkwardly if he happened to shift his weight. It did not allow for quick progress, but Astraea was patient. When Mazhrekan revealed that he had heard the riddle before, the young Forest let out a soft chuckle. “I should have known that there would be a wise male amongst my group of suitors. I fear perhaps things might have been slightly in your favor then, but in any case, your answer is correct.” The blind forest paused and listened to the rest of his words and let out a soft sound. “It is quite possible, and most certainly something to contemplate. Many of the others here today came to me with answers I did not expect, though they fit what I had asked regardless.” She offered the Chaos a warm smile before she turned away, walking a few paces from her suitors, one ear angled to listen as she thought carefully of what to say now. “I believe now will be the point at which I come to my decision.” She said softly, though in the calm stillness of the clearing, her voice was audible to every male. It was no easy task for certain, choosing which suitor had impressed her the most, but they had each revealed aspects of their skills that she had seen fit to judge. Hemlock had proven a cunning mind after all, but his aggression and frustration had led him to make mistakes, and near break the only rule that she had laid out for him within the challenge. There was Fathom, who had displayed excellent courtesy to her as well as to the males who were his competition in the beginning before he had faced the Lightning dragoness in a mock battle, overcoming himself, it seemed, so that he might find victory. Pierre and Prometheus were both impressive specimens, and she had found them both to be clever, especially Prometheus, given his unexpected answer that, despite not being what she sought, fit the criteria of the riddle’s words. Then there was the Chaos, Mazhrekan, who had shown wisdom with his prior knowledge of her riddle and displayed an interesting glimpse of the power of a Chaos upon his challenge. Astraea also found him fascinating, perhaps, due to the fact that like herself, he was crippled, yet functioned adeptly in the world around him. Astraea lifted her head, lank grey mane falling into her unseeing eyes as she let out a soft sigh, the steam of her breath clouding the air of the morning, now fading into shades of light blue as the dawn faded and broke into the calm of the day. She turned and faced her suitors. “I thank you all for your participation, but as you know, there can only be one.” In that strange, and unnerving way that she had, Astraea’s head turned unerringly towards Fathom. “Fathom,” she said softly, sounding perhaps a bit shy. “Would you please join me?” she tucked her chin towards her chest a bit self-consciously for a moment, before she pulled it away, raising her head, proud and confident in her choice. |
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| Nherva | Jan 29 2014, 11:13 AM Post #14 |
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Lurker Queen
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The Water’s heart was fluttering with pride. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get that riddle, but perhaps the answer being the very same as the question is what helped. Either way he wasn’t going to question it, as long as he was correct. As Astraea herself told him, it felt like every scale and fin raised along his body with delight. He had pleased her, even if another of her suitors pleased her more, it was a triumph that he had come this far and been correct in his guess at the answer. The silvery Water waited patiently as the others arrived, giving their answers to their riddles, some correct and others close but not completely there. Suddenly he felt like maybe he’d had it easy, and there was no way otherwise he would have been able to guess at the answer. The duel with the Lightning had been fairly simple once he’d gotten over his reluctance and controlled his actions so he could still be effective without causing harm. Now that he knew he could do that, he would try more often. Regardless, had he chosen the easy pathway? He felt a little bit dull when the Chaos finally arrived and admitted to having seen his own riddle before. Perhaps Fathom needed to goad Ahnu into reading to him more often. More studying might be helpful in situations like this—not that studying was his favorite pastime, but if it helped him be smarter then maybe he should look into it. He didn’t expect that he would be chosen this time either, and he’d already chalked it up to a good learning experience, something that he could use as a springboard to move forward with. He would wait though and do the honor of allowing the blind kirin-esque Forest to make her choice. He owed her that much after she had put forth a challenge for him that made him begin to grow in better directions and look in upon himself and see what was really there. Fathom watched Astraea as she walked around, speaking to each suitor in turn before circling to stand before them all to make her choice. Teal eyes bounced from male to male, all the way from the crowned and crippled Chaos to the Air, the other Forest, and finally Prometheus. All of them were just as promising as the next. Fathom didn’t have a clue who—based on Astraea’s statements to all of them—she would choose, though he tried to guess. The wizened Chaos seemed a good choice, but so too did the Air and even the crossbreed of Air and Earth. On the other hand, Hemlock was of her own breed, a comfortable familiarity which she might prefer over something different. Then he heard his name. The Water’s head snapped to attention and he blinked wide eyes at the kirin Forest. “M…Me?”He was taken aback with surprise. He hardly thought his performance was worthy. After all, it had never been worthy in the past, only a learning experience which he’d come away from determined to do better. He assumed that would be the same in this case with all these other worthy males surrounding him. “I uh…are you sure?” He lowered his head, frills rising and falling in question as he crept closer to her somewhat shyly. Surely there had been some mistake. But he’d heard his name, and none other. “Not that I am accusing you of making a mistake or anything…I just…oh of course I will join you!” The war of uncertainty in his head was won and he followed her to whatever comfortable place she had chosen to fly with her chosen suitor. “For as long as you will have me,” he added, want Astraea to know in the best way he could that he would not abandon her once his contribution was complete. He hadn’t gotten zapped by a Lightning and wracked his brain over a riddle just to give her what she needed and then leave again unless she wanted him to. |
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