06-17-2020, 10:09 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-17-2020, 07:00 PM by Wysteria Fairy.)
Raul looked at the imposing mountainside, heart in his throat. It was covered in snow near the top, even this time of year, and barren of all growth. As unforgiving a place as he'd ever seen, except perhaps the newly born Pangea. Both had the scent of magic hanging heavily about them.
His eyes, blue and silver pools of light in his tawny face, absorbed the sight with solemn purpose. He knew why he was here, and it was this purpose that drove him steadily onward. Climbing the narrow trail that wound its way up the rocky face, he placed each step carefully.
As if it had been simply waiting for him to set foot on the path, howling winds came alive to harry him. Tears rose in his eyes only to be whipped away, body heat left him as fast as he could generate it. Steps became labors, and try as he might, the wind touched stallion could not get a grip on the biting air.
He could not stop, though he was sorely tempted to. Instead he grit his teeth and plowed forward, ever higher. When the wind was joined by rain, his body began to tremble with shivers. He could not remember the last time he was this cold. It was penetrating, all consuming, and he gasped for breath as the temperature plunged. Every breath fogged before him, a mockery of the warmth his brother generated on his own. No warmth, no peace. Not until he'd climbed his way as high as he could go, legs prickling-numb and eyes streaming with freezing tears.
Leaning against the granite boulders, he searched the scene for some indication that he was not alone. That he had not climbed in vain. The gravelly whisper that was all that remained of his voice could not hope to be heard above the whistling wind, yet he spoke anyway. If they had magic like he believed, then perhaps they could hear even him.
"I need your help," he began, squinting into the grey. "I am named Healer of my land, but it seems the title has no meaning. Not when there is greater power than herbs and rest to be had. I would petition you, fairies, for the chance at real healing power, that I might serve my people better." There was more to it, of course. There always was.
Warlight was by his side once more, and he knew that her nature was not to be a gentle brood mare. She was a warrior, through and through, and he would not see her come to harm again. Not if he could help it. A small part of him also wondered, painfully, if he'd had greater strength would be have been able to save his mother from herself? Would he have made any difference at all?
OOC: Raul is asking for non-genetic Healing. He will sacrifice his Disease Suppression for it.
His eyes, blue and silver pools of light in his tawny face, absorbed the sight with solemn purpose. He knew why he was here, and it was this purpose that drove him steadily onward. Climbing the narrow trail that wound its way up the rocky face, he placed each step carefully.
As if it had been simply waiting for him to set foot on the path, howling winds came alive to harry him. Tears rose in his eyes only to be whipped away, body heat left him as fast as he could generate it. Steps became labors, and try as he might, the wind touched stallion could not get a grip on the biting air.
He could not stop, though he was sorely tempted to. Instead he grit his teeth and plowed forward, ever higher. When the wind was joined by rain, his body began to tremble with shivers. He could not remember the last time he was this cold. It was penetrating, all consuming, and he gasped for breath as the temperature plunged. Every breath fogged before him, a mockery of the warmth his brother generated on his own. No warmth, no peace. Not until he'd climbed his way as high as he could go, legs prickling-numb and eyes streaming with freezing tears.
Leaning against the granite boulders, he searched the scene for some indication that he was not alone. That he had not climbed in vain. The gravelly whisper that was all that remained of his voice could not hope to be heard above the whistling wind, yet he spoke anyway. If they had magic like he believed, then perhaps they could hear even him.
"I need your help," he began, squinting into the grey. "I am named Healer of my land, but it seems the title has no meaning. Not when there is greater power than herbs and rest to be had. I would petition you, fairies, for the chance at real healing power, that I might serve my people better." There was more to it, of course. There always was.
Warlight was by his side once more, and he knew that her nature was not to be a gentle brood mare. She was a warrior, through and through, and he would not see her come to harm again. Not if he could help it. A small part of him also wondered, painfully, if he'd had greater strength would be have been able to save his mother from herself? Would he have made any difference at all?
OOC: Raul is asking for non-genetic Healing. He will sacrifice his Disease Suppression for it.
