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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Aug 8, 2017 19:59:02 GMT -5
The sun had barely begun its ascent through the sky when a black streak whistled across the horizon, sleek and agile and swift. The shadow cut diagonally through the pale sky, angling towards the earth in a sharp descent. Rhysand kept his mind clear, his heart-beat steady; he clung to the back of his dragon, calloused fingers clamped around the grooves between the dragon’s wings that served as natural hand-holds. Mor struck through the sky with a speed that was nearly blinding, the wind whipping by so fast that Rhys’ eyes watered almost painfully and he was certain his hair would be ripped from his head, but he clung on still. Gravity had lost its hold, and his stomach roiled with weightlessness, leaping painfully towards his throat. Faster, he quietly urged, and he felt the surge of Morrigan’s joy through his mind as the dragon answered. The ground approached at a breath-taking pace, but still Mor kept her pace, wings tucked to her side, wide tail feathers pinned carefully together to keep her form streamlined. His breath was yanked away the instant he exhaled, and it was nigh impossible to inhale as the air whipped past. The ground loomed, details becoming clearer. He remained still, allowing Mor to judge when it was time to pull from the dive.
She did at the absolute last instant, when it was almost possible to make out the individual leaves on the trees below. Silent as the shadow she resembled, Mor’s wide wings snapped out, feathers rustling in the wild breeze. She fanned out her tail feathers to cut her descent more, and as she bottomed out of her dive, she angled her nose upward, tilted her wings, and snapped her tail down to abruptly change her direction. G-force struck Rhys with such ferocity his vision blacked out for a second, but he let out a shout as the pair swung back into the sky. He laughed, drowning in the simple, exquisite joy that flooded the bond between dragon and rider. A dragon was fire incarnate, born to rule the sky; nothing was more intoxicating, more joy-inducing than the sensation of flight. Mor’s joy ran as deep as the vibrant gold veins in the earth, endless and expansive and all-encompassing. It was drowning, intoxicating, perfect. Rhys would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life on the wing, but his people needed him. Is job kept him grounded, reminded him that there was more than the wide-open sky. Still, he was never able to resist Mor’s desire to race the wind, and so each morning, as the moon gave way to the sun, the pair swept open their arms and leapt into the blue.
He shifted, leaning backward to turn his face to the warmth of the rising sun. Still, they whistled by, a shadowed streak against the pale blue expanse. The sun was warm and bright, enough so that Rhysand closed his eyes for a moment. The pale light glistened off Mor’s feathers, turning the ebon into a deep, midnight blue, while highlighting the silver feathers that danced across her form like the stars. He pressed his face into his dragon’s neck, breathing in her warm, earthen scent. To the barracks, Mor, he murmured, reaching for their bond. The Wavros snorted, and a flicker of annoyance shot down the bond, but she relented nonetheless, tilting one wing and angling her tail to adjust their course. Rhys allowed himself to fall away, to become nothing but the wind whispering beneath his dragon’s wings, nothing more than freedom. Time become immaterial, not important enough to be committed to memory. The clash of steel against wood drew him from his reverie, and Rhys turned his gaze forward as the Battle Academy slid into view. A deft flick of her wings had Mor swooping low for a landing. Her paws swung forward, talons scraping against the worn stone as she hit the ground, leapt once, and then came to a stop, folding her wings back to her flanks. Rhys dismounted, his greaves thudding against the stone in a similar manner. He placed a hand on Mor’s shoulder and caressed the bond, thanking Mor for the experience. The female dragon huffed at him, fanning her tail feathers briefly before she opened her wings again and was gone. Rhys retrieved his gloves from his belt, slid them on, and adjusted the deep auburn cloak that was clipped to his shoulder-plates, striding forward. It was time to start training.
Despite that he was the commander of the Ruby Regiment’s armed forces, he never made the mistake of believing that time spent training or interacting with the men and women that lined his ranks was time misspent. At dawn, each morning, Rhys joined the recruits in practice, honing his skills. He was one of the best swordsmen, and he was almost a master when it came to fighting with a spear or staff, but still he practiced. It was there, among the recruits, sweating and breathing heavy as he sparred with a few of his captains, that a messenger found him. “Commander,” the man panted, and Rhys paused, checking his strike, turning in one smooth movement towards the messenger. “The High Priestess requires your presence immediately!” Rhys frowned, but gave the man a nod. He reached for the bond, tugging lightly on it, calling for Mor. Her answer rumble came almost immediately, and thirty seconds later the Shadow Dragon launched towards him. The recruits barely managed to scramble out of the way as she landed smoothly. Rhys swung himself onto her back, tucking himself low to her neck as she launched back into the air.
A minute later, and she swooped for the dark blue form of Navi, the High Priestess’ dragon. With a deft twist, Mor rolled into a landing nearby, and Rhys dismounted, striding towards Juniper with powerful, confident steps. His brow furrowed at her appearance; she was pale and clearly shaken, the white of her eyes tinged read. With little hesitation, Rhys unhooked the heavy cloak from his armor, and, as he reached the High Priestess, laid it on her shoulders with a gentle movement. “My lady,” Rhys stated, bowing his head in greeting. “I received your messenger. What do you need of me?”
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Bisexual
✦ вσвσ
goodbye, my friends
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Post by ✦ вσвσ on Aug 8, 2017 23:07:17 GMT -5
The moon winked from behind the clouds, casting soft rays along the rippling surface of the glass surface of the Oasis. Despite the late hour, a sleek form cut through the air, whistling low to the water. The force of her smooth gliding caused the water of ripple even further, breaking the smooth surface and spraying up onto her soft underbelly. Her blood red scales blanched in the moonlight, just like the shadowy figure on her back.
Leighton Shayde's laugh was ripped from his mouth as Issyina glided along the water, her clawed feet gently brushing against the lake, spraying more water up to the underside of her wings. Although, it didn't dampen her, or her Rider's spirits. Instead, she seemed to purr happily through their connection, sending that ripple of warmth into her Rider. Leigh tipped his head back and straightened from his crouched position on her back. His fingers released their death grip on her scaled shoulders and let the wind whip through him, cutting him like an icy spear. His red cloak flashed behind him, folding and unfolding like a flag. "I wonder if Nysadit is watching?" He wondered, only a quiver of curiosity his answer from Issy.
He opened his eyes and collapsed down into his crouched position on her back; the tight, vice-like grip of fear had returned and forced him into a more practical position. She was reaching the end of the lake, her nose dipped down and body skimming the water as she lowered. Her wings were creeping in, lowering the dragon until they both seemed to skim the water. Issy was satisfied with herself, a smile creeping through them as she playfully taunted the water dragon with her bold flight. Whether Nysadit found it amusing, they'd never know. Leighton could see the pebbled shore now, the lapping waves grow bigger for an instant as Issyina's wings snapped out.
Leigh's stomach dropped.
She took a hard angle, sharper than he expected, and his body coiled to hold on for his life.
Issy was not an easy ride. Leigh immediately closed his eyes as they soared, higher and higher into the sky, higher and higher above the trees. He couldn't feel anything, the air bitingly cold against his skin, hands becoming stone against her hard scales. Issyina was fearless, whereas her rider hated this moment as they shot straight up into the clouds. From water to stars in a dizzying amount of time. Issyina was not quite as large as other dragons, but she was smoother, sleeker, faster than almost all of them. Hence why he was the Messenger. She was the fastest.
The ascent seemed to slow, but she didn't level out. She was quivering with glee, a feeling that wasn't coloring his experience quite yet. It was their ritual, their routine every night. Trying to get Leigh to actually enjoy flying like this. Like a dragon should fly, fearlessly. "I'm ready," His mouth formed the words, but they didn't exit on his exhale of breath because it was ripped from him. Her tail snapped sideways and they careened, letting the earth pull them down. Leigh dug his heels in, unable to open his eyes, but he still felt the wind rip him apart. The dive was hard and screeching, Issy pushing her body to her limits as she sped straight down. The only thing that was worse than the ascent was the descent. Leigh was frozen on her back, even as she flooded him with absolute joy, it only made him nauseous, the emotional whiplash.
Her wings snapped out, her nose lifting and her whole body shuddering with the force it took to pull up from her nosedive. Her tough scales and the freezing wind made her impossibly cold, even though she had an internal fire that burned hot. Leigh only opened his eyes when he realized they were parallel to the ground now. But tears flowed as she pushed herself faster, tail flicking to turn her agile body ever so slightly in one direction or another, avoiding high tree tops. "Show off," Leigh grumbled to himself, and Issy purred beneath him, her rumbling warmth flowing through him. He'd been flying just like this when he'd been thrown violently from her back. They'd twisted sideways too much, he hadn't been strong enough to hold on, and then only black.
The sun was rising now, the pale streaks chasing away the darkness and memories from him. Issy was slowing now, stretching more into a glide with only gentle flaps of her wings to keep them upright. He began to breathe normally again as they changed course slowly, taking a wide circle around to turn back towards the South of Nymphia. The Jumni in the sky was not an oddity since Messengers spent the majority of their life on their winged creatures, the voice for to the people from their Goddess.
The sun was warming the air, bringing with it the crispness of the upcoming autumn, the sky crystalline, and blue. Issyina's body shivered, even though the sun had warmed both. The High Priestesses Songstone rang out clear and strong, Leigh's stomach plummeting as Issyina lashed her tail, fanned her wings and curved sharply around. It was an immediate call, and luckily Leigh was already on her back, but he was tired. Drained physically and mentally, but still, he urged Issy on, even as her own fatigue lingered in her wings.
They were a blaze of fire across the sky, her blood-red scales easily spotted from miles away as the sun sparked her into a brilliant scarlet flame. She clicked unhappily at Leigh's nauseousness as they climbed high above the trees and raced through the air, a comet against the sapphire sky. As the temple came into view, and Issyina dove without warning, screeching to halt, her wings violently churning to control her descent as she landed near Mor, the Commander's sleek dragon. Issyina lowered herself down, flattening her wings down as Leigh shakily rolling himself off of her. He landed clumsily, his legs numb from the ride. He stumbled for the first few steps, Issyina's muzzle gently reaching out to steady him. He paused shaking out his shoulders and adjusting the bright red Messenger's cloak around his throat. He tugged Issyina's confidence and she willingly gave it to him.
He was not nearly as pale as the High Priestess, and her appearance worried him. He hurried to her, Navi still curled protectively around her rider, and he stayed several feet away from the feathered creature. "My lady," He repeated after the Commander, his eyes darting to the taller man quickly before back to the small woman who was supported only by her Dragon. His nausea returned even though he was on land now, the usual snake of worry when the Priestess received a message.
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Post by Strawberry Scream on Aug 9, 2017 9:19:11 GMT -5
Navi purred in approval as the Commander came forwards, uncurling his lean, long neck from his Rider to allow the man forwards. The dark-blue dragon rather liked the Commander, finding him amusing in ways, and wasn't afraid to show favorites as he gave a laugh-like growl at Leigh's messy landing. Juniper didn't approve of the mocking tone and sent her dislike over their bond, making Navi bob his head apologetically to The Messenger.
"Thank you, Commander Vanserra," the woman said tiredly as the man placed his warm, heavy cloak around her. She didn't realize how cold she was - the visions made her dazed and confused, often in pain and sore for days afterwards, and she was grateful for the comfort. As Leigh came forwards, the woman went to get to her feet to address them properly, but Navi snapped his jaws at her and snarled - he refused to let her stand, sensing the weakness of her muscles as she shook violently from cold and pain. With a slow movement, Navi carefully sheltered his wind over his Rider - his body heat helped her immensely with the cloak, and her shivering soon began to stop.
She shook her head a bit, trying to clear her thoughts, and rubbed her eyes - her hand came back stained slightly red from bloody tears. "The Hallowed are preparing to fight," she began bluntly, and Navi snarled at the mentioned of the other side. They were the reason his Rider had that horrible scar over her eye - they were the reason she was half-blind and her beautiful face was practically destroyed. "Their God is cruel and unyielding, and we have something that they want - the Dragons' Eye." She pointed towards the top of the temple, where the man-sized tear-drop ruby floated magically.
"Vethys says to prepare to fight," Juniper said, and Navi snarled once again. The feathers on his body bristled, but Juniper soothed him through their mental link. "Commander," the woman said, motioning him closer once more, "prepare the Military. The sword masters need to begin creating weapons again - the armories in the Green Township need to be put to full work. Whatever is coming, it'll take a long time, but we need to be prepared." As the High Priestess spoke, Navi felt her strength sapping and he curled his neck around her again, tucking his large head under her arm with a comforting purr. "Tell the troops to practice on the backs of their dragons, for now, Commander. The Hallowed fight dirty, and we need to be at our best."
She then turned to Leigh, motioning him closer. "Leigh - and Issyina, good morning - you need to spread the news that we're preparing to fight the Hallowed. Beginning at the Smith Lodge, warn the New Raisers first - that is where the Ravagers will strike first, where the orphan hatchlings are being taught. After that, the Purple Township is the fastest way of spreading the word. Tell the locals to spread the news like the plague." Knowing the Hallowed, they could spread the plague, she thought wryly to herself.
"Take the Hoppers - both of you," she said, nodding towards the glowing blue circle not thirty feet away. They were faster than dragon-riding, and while Juniper hated to take the joy and adrenaline rush from break-neck winds, she wasn't sure that would be the best route to sharing the news. The Dragons' Eye pulsed just slightly, just for the very surrounding people to sense. "Warn people and prepare them. I have to return to the temple, speak to our Mother Goddess." She took the Commanders cloak off of her shoulder, folding it expertly in three quick movements before handing it back with a thankful smile. It was almost odd to see her genuine smile - she was so bitterly sarcastic most days, it was hard to believe it was the same woman when she had these visions.
"Thank you," she intoned gratefully before Navi carefully nudged under her arm again and helped her carefully to her feet. She still spoke directly to. "Meet me at the Battle Academy right before sunset. We'll speak with the students there, see who is ready and who is not."
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Post by faundestwishes on Aug 9, 2017 11:14:15 GMT -5
She had not been to the cave for some time now, and the longing for her companion was at an all time high. However, Winna was rearing her young well, Sassafras made sure to check on them now and again. Often times she had a small hatched dragon- or perhaps an egg- bundled close to her as she traveled back to check on her dragon. It seemed even young Calliandre were as silent as their mothers; Sassafras had been ambushed by young hatchlings too many time to be comfortable. Yet, The year was almost up and Winna would be at her side soon! A few weeks- Who was Sassafras kidding. She journaled everything and forgot little. Winna had eight days left before she came back. She had cleaned, propped up her dragons large nest in the corner and prepared far too much food for Winna's return, but she was just so excited.
A hatchling in front of her makes an awkward jump at her feet and Sassafras trips right over them onto her floor. That hurt. Sassafras sits up and drags them into her arm even as they make unhappy chirps. Well, they were never happy to be caught in mischief! They'd learn soon enough not to trip her if they didn't want extra snacks. Now wrestling with the twin winged Jumni was never easy, and this little one which she had fondly temporarily named Apricot was always a bit more lively than the rest. Sassafras never thought she was made to rear hatchlings, she felt the call for adventure to this day, but her soothing coos and gentle pets had Apricot relaxing into her lap, and she couldn't seem to think she was good at this. She still wanted to be out. She wanted to be in the woods, on the roads; she wanted to talk to her sprite friends and draw their whimsical forms, see if she could see Nysadit from the safety atop of Winna's hovering form, or even run into some of the terrifying creatures near the academy. She still wandered further than she should sometimes, but always kept her work with her. Hatchlings needed to go out and explore too.
She sighs and hauls Apricot up into her arms and totes her back into her nest. Silly little thing she was. There were a few more cries from some other young ones and Sassafras just laughs. "Hungry? Well if you ate when you were supposed to and didn't play with your food like you were not supposed to you guys wouldn't be in this mess." She chided them all softly and their weak little cries got louder. She wasn't bonded with these dragons, they would not have a mental link with her ever. Her heart hurt a bit at that, but it was how it was. She understood other languages though. Their bodies, their posturing, their faces, and Sassafras liked to think that she could hear the faint whispering of their voice. Apricot is set down and Sassafras moves to the hatchlings favorite spot. The kitchen, for she wasn't cruel and she was easily swayed by their sad little noises.
She meticulously prepares the meals, by now she knew every species' nutrition needs, but she also knew all of her hatchlings favorites. Some were particular to fish and were picky otherwise. Some had no preference and some were vegetable stealers. She had detailed notes on this too; Sassafras fondly told those who bonded with her dragons all of these things, if they listened to her...she didn't know, but it made her feel good to share these things. She sets down the larger plates for those who can eat chunks and be counted on to share, gently spoons paste to those that had a harder time, and lovingly held skins full of milk to the even smaller dragons. She loved these creatures dearly and it showed in her care.
The eggs were next. They always had to be warm, and whether that was through intricate holdings over the fire, through gentle placement of coals, or through her own body heat didn't really matter. She turned a few carefully. Those who looked a little cooler had a gentle touch before she moved them closer to the heat. These were sturdier than she gave them credit for, but she was always worried they'd break. Some of these had been abandoned, some had mothers perish, each dragon got a chance and she wasn't going to be the one to somehow shatter that.
After all of this was done it would be time to relax for a while. She was sure a few of the hatchlings would join her and take a nap against her. She'd contently pet them, take notes in her journal and eventually move to make her own food. She had a feeling that a beige egg nestling near some coals was going to hatch soon. She felt it shaking a few days ago- could mean nothing, she supposes, but she was going to trust her gut. In addition a few of her older hatchlings were ready to leave... She'd need to take them so they could either find someone to bond with or be with older dragons of their kind. The reward for her job, supposedly, but she didn't want to think about it more than she had to.
She turns her last egg and settles onto the nest she calls her own. It was easier than a bed- the one she had originally had collapsed when too many dragons and Winna had sat on it. She kicks her feet back and stretches her arms over her shoulders. She wondered how the other New raiser was. Sassafras wasn't the best company, unintentionally postured herself and her clutch. Maybe the other new Raiser thought she was arrogant. Perhaps she should visit, they weren't far, see how their clutch was doing and make small talk. Make some small talk, get out of isolation and shake off the loneliness of not having Winna around. Maybe. Or maybe she would cough as a hatchling settles right on her stomach to sleep. She rolls her eyes and sighs. Perhaps not then. Maybe later.
(Hope this turned out alright, I started it on my computer and finished it on mobile yikes but I thought I'd at least set Sassafras up for when Leigh comes to warn the new Raisers.)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Aug 9, 2017 20:34:55 GMT -5
Rhys went still when Juniper abruptly announced Vethys’ message. He swore to himself, but kept his expression carefully schooled so as not to concern the High Priestess. The Hallowed Ravagers were on the war path it seemed, and there was no worse news than that in Rhysand’s opinion. He swore to himself again. Though he’d made sure his troops were well trained and kept busy during the time between conflicts, he was well aware they were nowhere near ready for all-out battle. Many of them were newer recruits, a good portion having retired from combat. They were inexperienced, and the bonds between the Riders and their Dragons were young and untested. Though nothing was more sacred than the bond, it was a difficult and traumatic experience to fly in battle, and some bonds were never the same. Rhys’ own bond quivered with Mor’s rage, as the night-colored dragon released a chilling, guttural growl at the mention of the Hallowed Ravagers, shortly after Navi had. She lashed her tail, fanning the feathers before flattening them again, over and over again. Rhys reached out one hand, resting the glove against her shoulder. He gently caressed the bond again, sending soothing thoughts to Mor. She growled at him, shifted her weight, and settled again.
I know, he shot down the bond. I know. He kept his hand on Morrigan’s shoulder as Juniper continued, rattling off more information before she pointed at the Dragons’ Eye. It hung in the sky, held aloft by the very magic of the Mother Goddess herself, a ruby so deep it was almost indistinguishable from the color of blood. Fitting, Rhys thought wryly to Mor, that it gleams with the blood that will soon be spilled.
So many… so many would die. So many children, and so many dragons. Mor’s grief was tangible as the dragon crooned in the back of her throat, whining softly. If they were lucky, their losses would be far better than those of the Hallowed Ravagers, but Rhys was doubtful. The Ravagers fought dirty and without honor, and it was inevitable that people would die. Too many people would die. “Mor,” Rhys said quietly, speaking aloud. The dragon’s eyes shifted to him, studying him. Her fire-soul shone in the heart of her gaze. “Take to the skies.” Sound the call; war is coming. We must be ready. The dragon studied him for a moment longer, before shifting her gaze to Navi and Issyina. She studied them quietly, as if deciding whether or not she trusted them enough to leave Rhysand in their company. Go, he urged, and Mor reluctantly spread her wings, reared back, and shot into the sky like a shadow. Leigh and Issyina would warn the townspeople and those who were not fighters; Mor would bugle the cry to the war dragons.
“My lady,” he said, in response to her orders. He inclined his head with thanks as she handed his cloak back, and with a deft flick he uncurled the thick fabric and clipped it back to the black shoulder-plates. As Commander, his armor was the same color as Mor’s feathers, although the dragon’s coloring was a coincidence. The plate armor was intricately carved, with a dragon curled across his shoulder-pads. His chest-plate was also decorated in a similar manner, as were his greaves and gauntlets. Emblazoned across his chest was the Ruby Regiment’s red dragon insignia. He turned towards the blue circle, and hesitated. “High lady,” he said softly, “will you be well?” Navi would doubtless protect her, but still he worried. They would need their High Priestess, their high lady in the days to come. He inclined his head, curled his hand into a fist, and thumped it against the insignia emblazoned on his chest. He strode towards the teleportation circle, keeping his movements smooth and confident, hiding the dismay he was feeling. As he stepped into the circle’s confines, he spoke the necessary magic word.
The feeling of teleportation – or winnowing, as Rhys sometimes referred to it as – was almost indescribable. The method of it was relatively simple to understand. It was as though Rhys’ current location was one spot on a tapestry, while his destination was another spot across the cloth. Winnowing was the act of folding the cloth so that the spots on the cloth overlapped. His stomach roiled as he hurtled through space and time towards the armory, and after an instant he stepped into the blue circle at his destination. The blacksmiths paused, turning towards their commander. The Master Blacksmith approached him.
“Commander,” the man offered in greeting. Rhys nodded once.
“Fire the forgers, Master Blacksmith,” he said quietly. “War is coming, and it flies on swift wings.”
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