01-21-2019, 12:09 AM
The pale colt glances up at the sound of beating wings, squinting against the brightness, reappearing as he does so. The mare who lands in front of him is as white as the snow, with a friendly greeting for both Pteron and the fox that curls on the rock beside him. He’s only just noticed the little creature himself, but has given it the same open smile that he offers to Ilma. It falters at the arrival of a fourth horse. The golden haired mare is as much a stranger to the yearling as the other two are, but the abruptness of her presence is momentarily disconcerting.
Far more disturbing is the ethereal giggle that fills the air around them.
Pteron spins, seeking the disembodied voice. There is nothing around them but the plain and the mountain, icy and empty. Without a magical mirror they cannot see the being that watches them, but it is all too clear that she is aware of their presence. She tells them that they are trespassing. Pteron frowns, for that is not quite what the Ice Queen had said in his dream. She said she needed the jewel, but she had not said that they would have to steal it from someone.
Perhaps a child with less amoral parents might have hesitated, might have worried that stealing was wrong.
Not Pteron though. He knows that the best choice is the one that is most direct, and he nods firmly and accepts the challenge that the Queen of the Frost Pixies places before them. They will find the jewel, and take it to the Ice Queen. After, perhaps he will keep see if it is useful in curing the Plague.
As the words ‘find me first’ fade to silence, they are quickly replaced by the howling wind. The blizzard it brings is impossibly quick. This is magic for sure, Pteron knows, and he is suddenly grateful for the boulder he stands against. It is an anchor in the world of white.
This is part of the challenge, Pteron reminds himself. They must get through this together.
The fox is closest, and Pteron reaches forward, seeking with his blue muzzle for where the fox might be. There – a soft puff of warmth and hair.
<b>“Jump down on me,”</b> says the dun colt, who is more familiar than most yearlings with the sensation of having a small animal crawl across him. The fox is smaller than Wombat, Pteron reasons, and if he uses Pteron’s back to climb down he will be able to know where Pteron stands. <b>“And hold onto my tail.”</b> He is very grateful that its finally grown out past his soft curly foal’s tail. When Jesper complies, Pteron stretches out one wing. His teeth chatter at the draft of cold air that hits his right side, but he needs to keep hold of his anchor as he looks for Ilma.
It’s Naia he finds instead, her gold speckled fur obvious even in this blizzard as not Ilma’s white. <b>“Keep by me,”</b> he tells her, and repeats the same when he bumps against Ilma. He must shout the words both times to be heard over the gale, and when he sidles back to the stone, he swears his teeth might be chattering hard enough to break. He doesn’t feel warm yet, which he knows is the dangerous sensation to avoid.
As long as he feels cold, he will be alright.
Pteron turns to face the cavern – or at least where he thinks the cavern is. His skill at remembering location had been honed since birth, but this is an unfamiliar land. An anchor is necessary in a world of endless grass, and as vital in a world of snow as well. He lifts his foot to forge through the blizzard just as the voice rings out once more. It comes from directly ahead of him, confirmation that the mountain and entrance to the cavern are a straight line from where they stand huddle together. Pteron isn’t quite sure how to answer her question, but he does know what he needs to do. Get them all safely inside the cavern, where the wind is not blowing so hard.
They forge ahead, Pteron always cognizant of his direction and the three bodies around him. Only once does he hesitate, when he stumbles in the rapidly building snow. Had he lost his angle, he thinks? How far had he stumbled? Pause, think.
<b>“Let’s keep going!”</b> he shouts into the wind, knowing that the storm might tear away his words before his companions can hear them. They all move when he does, so they understand at least. The wind doesn’t become anything less than painful until they are well within the mouth of the cave. The storm is a strong one, but Pteron doesn’t think about how they will leave. It’s not time to worry about that yet, so instead he takes in the cavern they have entered.
It is unlike anything the pegasus has seen before. Walls entirely of sapphire blue ice, cracked and marred with lines of frozen white. Icicles larger than he is dangle from the ceiling overhead. Some lay in chunks on the floor of the cavern and many look recently felled. So the storm was not the only danger they would face, Pteron thinks.
The others are talking, discussing options, and Pteron looks up when he feels their eyes on him. They are splitting into pairs, someone says, and Pteron nods. There are many paths to choose, and the colt is young enough to appreciate the warmth of another body alongside his in this cavernous underground world. He follows Ilma without a word, snorting a <b>“Good luck!”</b> to the fox and the spotted mare as their path branches away.
As he walks beside the older mare, he speaks aloud, as a young and curious Pteron often does. <b>“So are you like, a really good warrior? Because, like, I l practice with my dad a lot but I haven’t, you know, actually been in a battle. Do you think we’ll have to fight something? I hope not. But I mean, I’d try, you know. If I have to.”</b> His chatter is a way of filling the space in the cavern but the white and blue colt finds that his words echo off the walls in a way that never seems to stop ringing in his ears. <b>“Actually I think I’m gonna be quiet.”</b> He says, nodding his head sharply. <b>“Yeah, <i>quiet</i>.”</b> The last word is said softly, barely above a whisper, but he is still grinning up at Ilma when he says it, and is clearly not cowed by the adventure they have found themselves on.
@[Ilma] @[Naia] @[Jesper]
Far more disturbing is the ethereal giggle that fills the air around them.
Pteron spins, seeking the disembodied voice. There is nothing around them but the plain and the mountain, icy and empty. Without a magical mirror they cannot see the being that watches them, but it is all too clear that she is aware of their presence. She tells them that they are trespassing. Pteron frowns, for that is not quite what the Ice Queen had said in his dream. She said she needed the jewel, but she had not said that they would have to steal it from someone.
Perhaps a child with less amoral parents might have hesitated, might have worried that stealing was wrong.
Not Pteron though. He knows that the best choice is the one that is most direct, and he nods firmly and accepts the challenge that the Queen of the Frost Pixies places before them. They will find the jewel, and take it to the Ice Queen. After, perhaps he will keep see if it is useful in curing the Plague.
As the words ‘find me first’ fade to silence, they are quickly replaced by the howling wind. The blizzard it brings is impossibly quick. This is magic for sure, Pteron knows, and he is suddenly grateful for the boulder he stands against. It is an anchor in the world of white.
This is part of the challenge, Pteron reminds himself. They must get through this together.
The fox is closest, and Pteron reaches forward, seeking with his blue muzzle for where the fox might be. There – a soft puff of warmth and hair.
<b>“Jump down on me,”</b> says the dun colt, who is more familiar than most yearlings with the sensation of having a small animal crawl across him. The fox is smaller than Wombat, Pteron reasons, and if he uses Pteron’s back to climb down he will be able to know where Pteron stands. <b>“And hold onto my tail.”</b> He is very grateful that its finally grown out past his soft curly foal’s tail. When Jesper complies, Pteron stretches out one wing. His teeth chatter at the draft of cold air that hits his right side, but he needs to keep hold of his anchor as he looks for Ilma.
It’s Naia he finds instead, her gold speckled fur obvious even in this blizzard as not Ilma’s white. <b>“Keep by me,”</b> he tells her, and repeats the same when he bumps against Ilma. He must shout the words both times to be heard over the gale, and when he sidles back to the stone, he swears his teeth might be chattering hard enough to break. He doesn’t feel warm yet, which he knows is the dangerous sensation to avoid.
As long as he feels cold, he will be alright.
Pteron turns to face the cavern – or at least where he thinks the cavern is. His skill at remembering location had been honed since birth, but this is an unfamiliar land. An anchor is necessary in a world of endless grass, and as vital in a world of snow as well. He lifts his foot to forge through the blizzard just as the voice rings out once more. It comes from directly ahead of him, confirmation that the mountain and entrance to the cavern are a straight line from where they stand huddle together. Pteron isn’t quite sure how to answer her question, but he does know what he needs to do. Get them all safely inside the cavern, where the wind is not blowing so hard.
They forge ahead, Pteron always cognizant of his direction and the three bodies around him. Only once does he hesitate, when he stumbles in the rapidly building snow. Had he lost his angle, he thinks? How far had he stumbled? Pause, think.
<b>“Let’s keep going!”</b> he shouts into the wind, knowing that the storm might tear away his words before his companions can hear them. They all move when he does, so they understand at least. The wind doesn’t become anything less than painful until they are well within the mouth of the cave. The storm is a strong one, but Pteron doesn’t think about how they will leave. It’s not time to worry about that yet, so instead he takes in the cavern they have entered.
It is unlike anything the pegasus has seen before. Walls entirely of sapphire blue ice, cracked and marred with lines of frozen white. Icicles larger than he is dangle from the ceiling overhead. Some lay in chunks on the floor of the cavern and many look recently felled. So the storm was not the only danger they would face, Pteron thinks.
The others are talking, discussing options, and Pteron looks up when he feels their eyes on him. They are splitting into pairs, someone says, and Pteron nods. There are many paths to choose, and the colt is young enough to appreciate the warmth of another body alongside his in this cavernous underground world. He follows Ilma without a word, snorting a <b>“Good luck!”</b> to the fox and the spotted mare as their path branches away.
As he walks beside the older mare, he speaks aloud, as a young and curious Pteron often does. <b>“So are you like, a really good warrior? Because, like, I l practice with my dad a lot but I haven’t, you know, actually been in a battle. Do you think we’ll have to fight something? I hope not. But I mean, I’d try, you know. If I have to.”</b> His chatter is a way of filling the space in the cavern but the white and blue colt finds that his words echo off the walls in a way that never seems to stop ringing in his ears. <b>“Actually I think I’m gonna be quiet.”</b> He says, nodding his head sharply. <b>“Yeah, <i>quiet</i>.”</b> The last word is said softly, barely above a whisper, but he is still grinning up at Ilma when he says it, and is clearly not cowed by the adventure they have found themselves on.
@[Ilma] @[Naia] @[Jesper]