12-03-2019, 09:33 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Source+Serif+Pro|Reenie+Beanie&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style>#cassian{ width:368px; border:1px solid #44555d; box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #44555d;}#cassianpic{ position:relative; z-index:0;}#cassianwrapper{ position:relative; z-index:1; background:-webkit-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(149,171,168,0), rgba(149,171,168,1)140px); background:-o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(149,171,168,0), rgba(149,171,168,1)140px); background:-moz-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(149,171,168,0), rgba(149,171,168,1)140px); background:-linear-gradient(to top, rgba(149,171,168,0), rgba(149,171,168,1)140px); background:-ms-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(149,171,168,0), rgba(149,171,168,1)140px); padding-top:20px; padding-bottom:40px; margin-bottom:-158px;}#cassiantext{ font-family: 'Source Serif Pro', serif; font-size:13px; color:#222e34; padding:25px; padding-bottom:35px; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px}#cassianquote{ font-family: 'Reenie Beanie', cursive; font-size:20px; color:#ffffff; line-height:16px; margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:-12px; padding:4px; position:relative;}#cassianname{ font-family: 'Reenie Beanie', cursive; font-size:50px; color:#ffffff; opacity:0.8; margin-top:-55px; margin-bottom:10px; margin-right:10px;}</style><center><div id="cassian"><div id="cassianwrapper"><p id="cassianquote">gotta do it in the penthouse<br>that's where I keep my pen<p id="cassiantext" align="justify">He’s not entirely sure what wakes him. Truthfully, he doesn’t even give the odd little shiver more than a passing thought before dismissing it. Yeah, sure, he’s had a few odd things happen in his life, but not enough to make him suspicious of every little weird tingle on his skin. Besides, it was probably just Casi glaring at him as she flew by.
Just in case, he scowls a little.
Shifting, he stretches forward, a yawn cracking his jaw, before dragging himself to his feet and shaking himself roughly. As he settles on his feet, dark locks tousled, he looks every inch the aimlessly roguish young stallion he is.
And maybe that’s why he’s chosen for the coming adventure. For all that he wears the cloak well, he’d never been meant to waste his life like this.
Whatever the case may be, he’s not really paying much attention when the mist begins to swirl around him. Doesn’t even notice, in fact, until it grows thick and murky enough that he realizes he can no longer see the meadow all that clearly. Frowning, he eyes the mist with an abrupt wariness, neck arching as he snorts uncertainly at it.
Not that that does him much good of course. But, well, he’s never <i>actually</i> had to be useful before.
Feet shifting nervously, he spins around, trying to (unsuccessfully) discern why the warm light of the meadow had been so suddenly obscured by heavy fog. But as he moves, he realizes his feet aren’t hitting firm ground, but rather sinking into something shifting and spongy.
Well crap. He had a feeling he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Suddenly intrigued (no one ever accused him of being consistent), he kicks experimentally at the ground. The sensation of something spraying against his legs startles him. With another snort, he bursts forward just as the mist lifts, leaving him stumbling over the peak of a sand dune.
With an unexpected <b><i>“hmmph”</i></b> escaping his lips, he tumbles forward, hooves unable to find purchase in the shifting sand, leaving him to fumble gracelessly down the dune before landing in an uncomfortable heap at the bottom. With a disgruntled groan, he flops over to squint at the sky.
<b>“Huh,”</b> he says after a moment of perplexed silence. <b>“This is not the meadow.”</b>
Honestly, if there were anyone who had the misfortune to witness that whole spectacle, they’d no doubt wonder at what kind of idiot he must be. Which, while probably not far from the truth, is at least mitigated by the fact that he realizes he is, in fact, stating the obvious. But, well, what the hell else is one to do when they find themselves suddenly dropped into the middle of a blindingly bright desert?
Ok, probably not that, but it was a start at least. And when he becomes aware of a niggling sensation pulling him in one certain direction, he has already come to accept the fact that, like the last time he’d found himself randomly dropped somewhere, there was probably something he was supposed to do.
Which sounds infinitely more entertaining than what he <i>had</i> been doing. So, with a sudden burst of exuberance, he climbs to his feet for the second time, shakes himself, and sets off in the direction of that mysterious… whatever it is.
Of course, as you can probably imagine, in a hot, dry desert, exuberance can only sustain a body so far. It soon becomes abundantly clear, as his steps slow and sweat begins to darken his neck, that perhaps he had bitten off more than he can chew. But, well, at this point he’s committed.
At least until he places his foot in the exact wrong place and a muffled crack sounds from beneath the sand. He doesn’t even have a chance to wonder what it was before his unfortunately placed limb collapses beneath his weight, wrenching painfully as his own momentum draws him forward even as the caught hoof stops him dead in his tracks.
<b><i>“OWWWWWwww!”</i></b> The pained yelp is dragged from deep in his chest even as he awkwardly twists his body to relieve the weight torquing his leg.
With a huff, he grimaces at the offending limb before tugging experimentally, wincing as it aches sharply in protest. After a few steadying breaths, he wiggles it again, gritting his teeth as he tries to ignore the pain. A regrettably unsuccessful endeavor, as it turns out.
Closing his eyes, he breathes slowly for a few moments. Then, jaw clenched to muffle his yelp, he heaves back abruptly, pain screaming through his shoulder as he brute forces his leg free from the hole. Breathing heavily, he steadies himself on three limbs. It takes him a moment to test his weight on the injured leg, but when he does, despite the rather embarrassing flinch at the pain, he finds it able to bear his weight.
But he’s not entirely certain he could make it where he needed to go like this. He does at least manage to slowly hobble another few miles before night begins to fall. Still, at this rate, he wouldn’t make it much farther. So instead, he does the smart thing for once: he stops for rest. Long enough at least for the throbbing in his shoulder to ease slightly.
------
Though Cassian has always been a reasonably athletic fellow, even he finds the journey across the shifting sand grueling. By the time he stumbles across yet another dune to find the heavenly sight of blue and green highlighted by the breaking dawn just there in the distance, he is exhausted, sweaty, and thirsty. Were it not for his stubbornly affable nature, he might have found himself devolved into a regrettable reflection of the father he’s never met.
Still, the whole unfortunate exercise has rather taken its toll on his good humor. More fortunately though, as he closes in on the oasis, he notices he is not alone here. Not only is he not alone, but one face is shockingly familiar. Suddenly cheered immensely, he tries to trot forward, only to be recalled to his injured state by a sharp protest in his shoulder. He <i>does</i> manage to hobble a little more quickly though, so that’s something.
A tired, lopsided grin brightens his features as he limps to a halt alongside Lilliana. He eyes her companion briefly, curiosity tempered by exhaustion, before greeting the young chestnut mare familiarly. <b>“So I take you didn’t get a bucket this time either?”</b></p><p id="cassianname" align="right">Cassian</p></div><div id="cassianpic"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/05MjqdY9/Cas.jpg"/></div></div></center>
Cassian is currently unaligned
Just in case, he scowls a little.
Shifting, he stretches forward, a yawn cracking his jaw, before dragging himself to his feet and shaking himself roughly. As he settles on his feet, dark locks tousled, he looks every inch the aimlessly roguish young stallion he is.
And maybe that’s why he’s chosen for the coming adventure. For all that he wears the cloak well, he’d never been meant to waste his life like this.
Whatever the case may be, he’s not really paying much attention when the mist begins to swirl around him. Doesn’t even notice, in fact, until it grows thick and murky enough that he realizes he can no longer see the meadow all that clearly. Frowning, he eyes the mist with an abrupt wariness, neck arching as he snorts uncertainly at it.
Not that that does him much good of course. But, well, he’s never <i>actually</i> had to be useful before.
Feet shifting nervously, he spins around, trying to (unsuccessfully) discern why the warm light of the meadow had been so suddenly obscured by heavy fog. But as he moves, he realizes his feet aren’t hitting firm ground, but rather sinking into something shifting and spongy.
Well crap. He had a feeling he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
Suddenly intrigued (no one ever accused him of being consistent), he kicks experimentally at the ground. The sensation of something spraying against his legs startles him. With another snort, he bursts forward just as the mist lifts, leaving him stumbling over the peak of a sand dune.
With an unexpected <b><i>“hmmph”</i></b> escaping his lips, he tumbles forward, hooves unable to find purchase in the shifting sand, leaving him to fumble gracelessly down the dune before landing in an uncomfortable heap at the bottom. With a disgruntled groan, he flops over to squint at the sky.
<b>“Huh,”</b> he says after a moment of perplexed silence. <b>“This is not the meadow.”</b>
Honestly, if there were anyone who had the misfortune to witness that whole spectacle, they’d no doubt wonder at what kind of idiot he must be. Which, while probably not far from the truth, is at least mitigated by the fact that he realizes he is, in fact, stating the obvious. But, well, what the hell else is one to do when they find themselves suddenly dropped into the middle of a blindingly bright desert?
Ok, probably not that, but it was a start at least. And when he becomes aware of a niggling sensation pulling him in one certain direction, he has already come to accept the fact that, like the last time he’d found himself randomly dropped somewhere, there was probably something he was supposed to do.
Which sounds infinitely more entertaining than what he <i>had</i> been doing. So, with a sudden burst of exuberance, he climbs to his feet for the second time, shakes himself, and sets off in the direction of that mysterious… whatever it is.
Of course, as you can probably imagine, in a hot, dry desert, exuberance can only sustain a body so far. It soon becomes abundantly clear, as his steps slow and sweat begins to darken his neck, that perhaps he had bitten off more than he can chew. But, well, at this point he’s committed.
At least until he places his foot in the exact wrong place and a muffled crack sounds from beneath the sand. He doesn’t even have a chance to wonder what it was before his unfortunately placed limb collapses beneath his weight, wrenching painfully as his own momentum draws him forward even as the caught hoof stops him dead in his tracks.
<b><i>“OWWWWWwww!”</i></b> The pained yelp is dragged from deep in his chest even as he awkwardly twists his body to relieve the weight torquing his leg.
With a huff, he grimaces at the offending limb before tugging experimentally, wincing as it aches sharply in protest. After a few steadying breaths, he wiggles it again, gritting his teeth as he tries to ignore the pain. A regrettably unsuccessful endeavor, as it turns out.
Closing his eyes, he breathes slowly for a few moments. Then, jaw clenched to muffle his yelp, he heaves back abruptly, pain screaming through his shoulder as he brute forces his leg free from the hole. Breathing heavily, he steadies himself on three limbs. It takes him a moment to test his weight on the injured leg, but when he does, despite the rather embarrassing flinch at the pain, he finds it able to bear his weight.
But he’s not entirely certain he could make it where he needed to go like this. He does at least manage to slowly hobble another few miles before night begins to fall. Still, at this rate, he wouldn’t make it much farther. So instead, he does the smart thing for once: he stops for rest. Long enough at least for the throbbing in his shoulder to ease slightly.
------
Though Cassian has always been a reasonably athletic fellow, even he finds the journey across the shifting sand grueling. By the time he stumbles across yet another dune to find the heavenly sight of blue and green highlighted by the breaking dawn just there in the distance, he is exhausted, sweaty, and thirsty. Were it not for his stubbornly affable nature, he might have found himself devolved into a regrettable reflection of the father he’s never met.
Still, the whole unfortunate exercise has rather taken its toll on his good humor. More fortunately though, as he closes in on the oasis, he notices he is not alone here. Not only is he not alone, but one face is shockingly familiar. Suddenly cheered immensely, he tries to trot forward, only to be recalled to his injured state by a sharp protest in his shoulder. He <i>does</i> manage to hobble a little more quickly though, so that’s something.
A tired, lopsided grin brightens his features as he limps to a halt alongside Lilliana. He eyes her companion briefly, curiosity tempered by exhaustion, before greeting the young chestnut mare familiarly. <b>“So I take you didn’t get a bucket this time either?”</b></p><p id="cassianname" align="right">Cassian</p></div><div id="cassianpic"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/05MjqdY9/Cas.jpg"/></div></div></center>
Cassian is currently unaligned