I don't think I'll ever land; twins, kirin, any

[Oswyn]

----- She hates to admit it, but she’s getting old. Her belly hasn’t bounced back as easily from the birth, and her joints creak with ever step. She’s tired, so tired. And, while she had fully planned on actually raising this child … she really hadn’t been expecting twins.  The girls are lovely, really. But so energetic. Put both of them together … and well, she’s just exhausted.  It hadn’t taken long for her mind to travel back to a few years ago when she’d found a place to drop off another daughter - Misra. And knowing how eager Kirin had been to take Misra, it couldn’t hurt to try, right? After all, both of them have colour - Rusalka’s lovely crimson ombre had been apparent right at birth, and while Rakshasa had seemed unfortunately plain, Oswyn had been pleased to notice a slight pink ticking appearing in her coat recently. Neither of them have displayed any talents unfortunately, but colour is better than nothing.  She does wait at least until the girls are both weaned, and then wastes no time in setting off for the Cove. The trip itself is short, but the girls drive her crazy with their running about, and by the time they reach the border of the little herd land, she’s feeling more than a little grumpy. “Girls!” She barks as they reach the border. “This is Kirin’s land, please be polite.” She lets out a low call for her nephew, certain that he must be somewhere nearby. Hopefully he’ll appear soon, and, hopefully, he’ll have an interest in the girls.  oswyn I don't think I'll ever  land

original html by rottie
altered by squirt

[Kirin]

keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us part

Are all old people this way, so giving? Kirin wouldn’t know, he’d never been old, nor had he ever been especially giving but it would seem with Grandmama that such was the case. Perhaps the woman had taken a keen interest in him, had a soft spot for boys or offspring of Khaos, maybe she just had grown tired of raising her offspring. Whatever it was, whatever the reason she was back, tittering a call to him from the edges of the Cove and of course he had to see what it was this time. Last time she had some with a lovely, winged little child, his niece Misra. Such a darling and he had no shame in confirming the fact that she would bare his child this coming spring. Such was the way of the world, the way of the Cove and there was no sense in changing that now.

Of course he finds them, he always does, spying the cluster from the skies and flapping his way over the expanse of seaside terrain. Walking was tiresome, especially while he was still recovering from the nonsense the fairies had pulled but never mind, Kirin would make do- he always did. Still, there was the plain and simple fact that Kirke was still missing and the only suspects to blame would be the obvious, well- better they return her more carefully than they had himself. Nasty sprites.

Anyhow he found them, titling his body towards the earth to touch down in a patch of grass. Already his eyes were having their way with the younglings, silver spheres roving over their colors though one’s took a bit of inspection to notice. Enough inspection that he almost wrote that one off completely but he was meticulous in some cases and it is perhaps luck that he takes the time on this particular one. After scrutinizing what he can only assume are gifts (grabby little thing he is) his hazel stare turns to the greyed form of his Granddam, noting the aging of her face, the weary way in which she stands. “Grandmama, you look so tired.” His voice coos to the older woman, tutting almost in sympathy. “Oh but how good to see you again. Misra is quite well if you wonder but who is this that you’ve brought to visit me?”

He doesn’t really need to gesture with his wings but he does so anyways, extending the fine feathers as if putting the twins on display in a showcase showdown on the Price is Right.

Kirin

son of khaos

[Rusalka and Rakshasha]

IF THE CLOUD COVER MAINTAINS ITS REIGN ON SUMMER
ILL STILL SHINE PALE WHITE NEXT TO A TENDER TAN

 



They'd followed willingly enough at their mother's heels, though this was a non-literal term in every sense of the word.  Being the young hellions that they were, both girls whirled about Oswyn the entire trip to the Cove, running around only to double back behind her and only rarely settling down to walk docilely next to her. It was no wonder that by the time their little group reaches Kirin's home, the mare's patience has worn thin. They couldn't help it though, honestly!  Energy crackled through their young bodies, a lightning bolt shared back and forth so that if one only happened to glance at the other, mischief could only follow.  It didn't matter if it were a silent challenge for a match race or simply a game of tag; every activity the twins shared was fun.  They both come to heel, however reluctantly, when Oswyn announces that they have arrived at wherever it was that this Kirin lived, telling them that they must be polite.  

Rusalka and Rakshasha may be young wild things, but they had still managed to pick up manners from their mother, if nothing else had stuck, and so they abandon their exploring and quickly return to her side, heads dipped politely as they see the winged stallion approaching from above.  The girls' eyes are so wide upon seeing a real live "bird-horse" that it is a wonder they don't roll out of their sockets.  They have never been shy a moment in their lives, though, and so they lift their heads proudly, in unison, as he greets their mother as grandmama and asks who they are.  Rusalka lets her "little sister" be the spokeshorse this time, watching her step forward to introduce themselves.  "I'm Rakshasha, and my sister's name is Rusalka.  She's a few minutes older than I am, so she's ancient.  Are you our nephew? " Now, that was a funny thought, since he was so much older than they were, but they manage to keep in their giggles.  Barely.  Snorting with exasperation, Ru pokes her lightening muzzle into her twin's side.  Ancient? Please.  She was just pouting over losing their last race, that brat.

Rusalka and Rakshasa

[Oswyn]

----- And then suddenly, there he is, alighting from the heavens - a vision of pale lavender and glorious feathers. He scrutinizes her for a moment, and with a sinking feeling Oswyn knows that he can see the weakness there, the time that is finally beginning to wear upon her. She snorts at his comment. “Only thanks to these two!” She is old and tired, but she still has her pride. “It’s nice to see you again, dearest grandson.” And it is, despite his impudent comment. Khaos’ blood runs so strongly in him - it’s wonderful to see this small piece of her son still living so vibrantly. “And I am glad to hear that Misra is doing well.” She wonders briefly if Kirin has made use of her yet (does she have yet more grandchildren out in the world?), but … there are other matters at hand. The twins, as bold as they are, do not wait for Oswyn to introduce them, and step up to introduce themselves. Both are wide-eyed at the sight of Kirin (something that makes Oswyn smile), and pink-flecked Rakshasa takes the lead. “Yes girls, this is your nephew Kirin.” Her dark grey eyes flick up to meet Kirin’s the ghost of a smile curving the corner of her lip. “Last time I visited I mentioned the possibility of bringing more gifts.” Her pale muzzle flicks in the direction of the two girls standing side by side. “And I thought two gifts would be better than one …” oswyn I don't think I'll ever  land

original html by rottie
altered by squirt

[Kirin]

keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us part

They are good to him, the world is good to him and it’s all in the name of Khaos- isn’t that so?
Kirin can want for nothing, save for wanting everything, a never ending unfulfillment. A hunger, a thirst for something more, something better. The lavender stallion takes as much as he can, more than he can at times and when he has it another pit of greed opens to replace the one quelled. It’s a vicious cycle really but he is that of viciousness and malice, Kirin knows little of good and he cares for the notion even less. Who wants to be good anyways?

He can appreciate youth, being youthful himself and while time has technically passed him several years now, Kirin was at a perpetual appearance of the age of five. Five was a good age when he had finally decided on it. His body was young and strong and beautiful, his coat gleamed in the sun, filled out nicely during the cold winter months and he was at optimal performance- in many areas. The girl had proved even more useful than he had ever intended and with that he regarded her his greatest gift, his one last possession from Nicia and perhaps the one thing he loved nearly as much as he loved himself. He kept few so close but rest assured that those that harbored the attention of his inner circle were those most deserving.

Rakshasha and Rusalka,,his ears flattened for a brief moment upon hearing their names, odd things that felt strange against his mind and would only cause his tongue more suffering. His protest is short-lived, midway through an eye roll they are asking him questions and for a moment he can forget their foreign monikers. Your Uncle, indeed.” he assures the two, flicking his tail past his hocks and eyeing them and their bold dispositions. He likes them well enough, unafraid as they are, proud as they seem, perhaps they will do well here just as Misra had. Time would tell. “Ancient?” he asks, biting his lip and looking between the two with mock uncertainty.

Grandmama looks weary yes, and if anyone were ancient it would be she but he would never say such things out loud. He let the girl have her joke, moving his silvered eyes away from the pair and once more to rest on the aging form of his lineage- his blood. “Of course you did and you have, I am pleased.” with that he presses his velvet muzzle ever so gently to the older woman’s jaw, before finding her ear to whisper hushed words. “Three is even better than two I should think,” and he leaves the quiet request at that.

A large smile grows steady on his face when he looks again to his gifts, leaving the topic of discussion for another time. “Ah we know who is the eldest, now, tell me who is the prettiest?” Of course it didn’t matter who the girls decided because either way he would tell them it was himself.

Kirin

son of khaos

[Rusalka and Rakshasha]

IF THE CLOUD COVER MAINTAINS ITS REIGN ON SUMMER
ILL STILL SHINE PALE WHITE NEXT TO A TENDER TAN

 

Rusalka and Rakshasha are both still pleased to be meeting a new family member, basking in the attention he gives them like cats in the sunlight.  There is a literal record-scratch in both of the girls' heads, however, when they hear their mother telling the stallion that she has brought him gifts, that *they* are the gifts.  Err, what?  The twins give each other sideways glances to confirm that they had indeed heard Oswyn correctly.  They barely notice Kirin teasingly asking them which of them is prettiest, and can only give clueless shrugs as a belated response.  All thoughts of playtime have fled their brains, and they edge closer to one another until they are physically touching.  They watch with unease as the lavender stallion sidles up to their mother and whispers something in her ear, something they both are quite sure is not suitable for fillies' ears.  

Why was their mother handing them off to this unknown relative?  They hadn't done anything wrong to cause her to want to get rid of them, much less announce that they were merely possessions to give away instead of being her own flesh and blood.  Rakshasha takes a cautious step towards Oswyn, ears laid back and eyes narrowing with concern for herself and her sister.   "Mother, what is this?  Are you leaving us here?  I thought we were a family together, the three of us.  We....we can behave better, we'll stop being so rambunctious.  Please.  "  Behind her, Rusalka nods in fervent agreement with her black-and-red sister, willing to do whatever they needed to do to not be left behind.  Neither filly cries, being made of sterner stuff than that, but their desperate pleas are clear on their faces.  Maybe this would cause Oswyn to change her mind about leaving them here.  At least, they hope that it will.

Rusalka and Rakshasa