Fimbulvetr

Ren

Character OTS

OTS 1
OTS 2

Björn & Lirr

Couple OTS


❂ vanishing grace

#1


E V A N D R


nothing is true, everything is permitted


Where Frekr Oasis could be loud with the voices of not only exiles but the foliage as well, the rest of the wastes held a quiet solace. When there was no peace to be found betwixt the emerald ferns of their bustling Oasis Evandr took to the outskirts of their enormous prison. Well... It could not be said that the amaranthine piebald considered the Vetr Wasteland a prison. No matter the shadowed light and condemning nature painted upon it by the Slidr River Valley houses and their denizens, it was still his home. And, if he had any opinions, it was far more beautiful than anything that the Valley provided them.

All the castaways had a strength that was imperceivable by the House members. Sloping, beautiful dunes cascading along the horizon, their hues and colors changing throughout the entirety of the expanse. Sometimes it was grey hills that met you as black volcanic grains intermixed with pristine pale counterparts while other times a sea of terra-cotta red stretched for miles. While the cold color combination nestled itself deep into the presence of the Valley, with its dark greys, blues, and greens, Vetr boasted bright and luxurious counterparts of gold, crimson, and ivory. Mind clear from the calls of the foliage in the oasis and Zahhak simply an extension of his being, Evandr traipsed along these ethereal and encompassing sands northwards. It had been some time since he'd last visited their own mountains... igneous rock continued to climb them higher and shape them every day, and when he had challenged Saren to a duel the fateful day that the Exiles' future changed indefinitely, this had been the place he had left his dam.

Zahhak's interest piqued, but receded as quickly as the Warden noticed it. There was a mutual understanding that the both shared - private matters were not to be exposed or abused no matter how enticing. Feathered hooves climbed the steadily firming desert beneath his hooves, until sparse grasses jettisoned through the cracked earth in dismal symbols of hope. Life tried so hard to sink its roots here but never managed. Perhaps once this place was green... Sometimes he liked to think back to the happiness and joy that brightened his mother's face when he'd left her here and he could have sworn there had been more vegetation, more greenery, that ultimately it wasn't as desolate as the rest of the wastes. But here? Now? The same beautiful canvas of a hardened, scaly world greeted him. Mountains stretched skywards, rising sharply with jutting cliffs and steep undulating sides. Even at a distance Evandr could see the weeping tears of lava seeping from the cracks in the black mountain, so bright against the khol littered sky as the volcano hacked and coughed up ash. Zahhak emerged from the sands, his cry half-hearted, with his claws bearing deep for purchase. The grounds here were rocky and firm. While the Warden was sure the dragon could withstand the lava and break through the rock, he couldn't blame the beast for emerging for less challenging travel.

Ash rained from the skies above in weightless flakes, the Wasteland's own twisted version of snow. The volcano was angry today, for there to be so much of it lingering in the air. "Resssspect the strenght of Ssskali, Warden." Zahhak hissed into his mind, those bright fiery irises of his swimming amongst the black pool of his sclera to peer over to his bonded. The draft stud let a snort billow from his nares which shied some of those weightless ash-flakes. "Respect is earned."


"Evandr talking" "Zahhak talking"

W C: 599
T A G: Open
V O I C E: Idris Elba
M U S E: 3/5
O O C: ...

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]

#2

Silver eyes gaze upon the volcanic terrain looming not far ahead; the undeniable urge to traverse that dangerous terrain floods her veins in a pleasurable shiver. The single soulless creature here worth even a measure of her time vanished weeks ago, and though she forms no attachments, a strange part of her wishes for his return. At the very least, his presence soothed the pieces of her that long for instability through risky endeavors. Not in a typical fashion, no...he encouraged the simmering darkness that so often flickers at the edges of bored eyes. A humorless smile twists silk lips the moment dark hooves slide from sand to ash and soot.

Her lithe figure effortlessly glides along the heated rocks comprised of a violent history; an explosion of magma and cinder. Yes, the heat quickly becomes stifling--more so than the desert, but she is not one to turn back once a course is set in motion. Here, amongst the gurgling plumes waiting to breach the surface, she takes a moment to open that chest of grief so tightly guarded in the recesses of her heart. It pours from the depths of ignored memories in a torrent of pain so great, a gasp manages to escape before it can be properly smothered.

To her immense satisfaction, she is jarred from the reverie by a shrill cry and pulled to the present. What is that? Curiosity burns a sterling flame in twin pools while lengthy audits tuck themselves back amidst obsidian feathers. The sound echoes throughout the region but it does not take long before a familiar form greets her, a stirring of annoyance curls her upper lip in a silent snarl. The monster standing next to the Warden (she does not recall his name) she assumes is the source, a great towering beast which reminds of the wyverns of her homeland. A pang of longing strikes her core and that snarl rumbles through her narrow chest.

”Warden.” The words leave on a strong breath, she remains unimpressed by the two-toned man. Crystalline gaze sweeps across the draconic beast and a hint of desire flares across bejeweled features. Perhaps for the smoky flavor his flesh is sure to possess, or possibly for the strength coiled in those scaled muscles. Wyverns were held in high esteem in her homeland, typically by those with enough fortitude to break their spirits, but for some, they were creatures to be admired not forced into servitude. Before the man “in charge” can turn to face her, pale features are schooled to their disdainful mask and she walks to stand mere yards from the duo.



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OOC: Evandr

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Tag: @[Avarice]

#3


E V A N D R


nothing is true, everything is permitted


The beast hears smells her, senses her even, before the Warden's harks catch her cut greeting. A serpentine neck lacerates the atmos with the dozens if not hundreds of tined points along Zahhak's plated hide as his attention turns to her. Eyes of obsidian, with irises to match the hot, bubbling pools of magma in Vulkan, bare down upon the quicksilver femme on her restrained approach. Curiosity had pulled her to them, but there was a disdain in the curves of her face that seemed to try and hide behind the crown of feathers adorning her. Evandr's attention glanced towards his new bonded, finally drawn from his own personal reflections, before following the drake's gaze. He is met with Avarice's tight enigmatic greeting, and he is surprised she even made the effort to recall his title.

A distrust is whispered in the smoky puffs of his nostrils as they flare, testing the mare's perfume. Evandr felt Zahhak probing at the back of his mind, sifting through his recollections for some sort of information about the silver vixen and her feather armaments. The amaranthine false-king saw no reason to bolster his parapets against the dragon, but rather lowered the bridge and invited him to explore what little knowledge of this women they had. "Hello." he offered simply, raw sapphire eyes trailing Avarice's image from delicate, petite hooves to the tips of her slightly curved audits - but there is not an admiration illustrated there, no. The gaze does not consume her greedily or with fascination, but a guarded examination. Her standoffishness wasn't becoming in this realm. Truly, having been (he assumed) on her own this entire time he was taken aback she had survived thus far. But, he considered, Vinter was not a plague to the exiles as it was to the Valley dwellers.

Spring had arrived, and it was Sommar that brought the castaways their trials.

"Sssshe isss interessted in me...", Zahhak whispers in the darkness of Evandr's conscious. "It would be stranger if she was not", the piebald stud mentally retorted, tossing a cursory glance to the beast. He truly was a specimen worthy of attention. With tines and plates that seemed constructed of fertile magma rock, arching and menacing in silhouette, Zahhak commanded the attention of any who could witness him. There was a mesmerizing quality to the lightness of his movements; his entire form seemed to ride the world - both aerial and terrestrial - commanding it as if he himself was weightless. And his gaze was volcanic, hot and burning, but somehow it spoke words that begged you come closer. "He won't eat you." Evandr alleged, tossing his focus back to the weeping mountains of Skali. "Don't lie, Waaaarden..."


"Evandr talking" "Zahhak talking"

W C: enough
T A G: Avarice
V O I C E: Idris Elba
M U S E: 2/5/5
O O C: ...

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]

#4

She sees the way the creature watches and she permits the briefest flare of amusement to light silver eyes before the Warden turns her way. Now, he is interesting. She ponders how such a magnificent drake came to be tied to the Warden, a man so unworthy of the title of ‘leader’ to the exiles. He is too passive to command. Avarice notes the way his nostrils take in her scent, able to pull it from the sulfuric odor permeating the mountains. An impressive feat except that she smells very much the opposite of this place but still, she allows a miniscule uptick to the right corner of pale lips.

His gaze sweeps over her but she is not offended...how can she be when emotion seems as foreign to him as it does to her. Oh. Internally, she laughs a bit at herself. What a fool you are. She chastises herself without heat, an odd humor flooding her and she begins to wonder how far into herself she has retreated that she did not recognize the familiar behavior at their first encounter. How selfish you are, Ava. Her father’s voice dances in her ears, a sweet cadence she thought forever lost. It takes her a moment to realize the amethyst brushed man is speaking. A sharp bark of laughter bursts to life. ”It takes far more than death to frighten me.” The words are not boastful or voiced with pride, no, it is a mere statement of fact. The ghost-like woman has seen more than her share of the sort of chaos that only follows Death’s march.

Nevertheless, she easily closes the distance between them to stand inches away from the Warden and his great beast. A stray gust kicks up to twine overly long tassels with his hind legs, it draws her focus back to Namira and their teasing interactions. You need a distraction. She tells herself, this time the words serve as a harsh reminder to not permit herself emotional entanglement. Do not become a weak fool like the ‘Warden’ standing here. Pale eyes flick across scarred features, disdain flickering in their glowing depths. ”Can you speak to him?” Her voice is soft yet in no way meek, the question serving its purpose of forcing her attention to something far more benign.




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OOC: Evandr This might be the worst Avarice post I've written, sorry love.

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Tag: @[Avarice]

#5


E V A N D R


nothing is true, everything is permitted


She stood there, unwilling to come close and for it Evandr could not blame her. If it was fear of the drake that compelled her self preservation to keep her at a distance, she was smart and it proved how she'd survived thus far in a wilderness so unforgiving. However, the Warden was not entirely convinced that this is what motivated Avarice. She could be described as steely, both in mind and hide, and the amaranthine piebald would have bet his title that she remained at a distance because of her disdain for himself. It'd been some time since he'd experienced someone so open and confrontational about their prickly opinions, and while it bothered him that he'd somehow offended and angered her enough to act so without knowing exactly what he'd done, he also admired her honesty.

Evandr wasn't ignorant to the people whom he was tasked with watching. While there were many like himself who were simply byproducts of those damned to a life in the Wastes, there were the criminals. Murderers, schemers, and liars slunk through the sands just as the innocent did and at times the distinction between them was as obscured and hazy as the mirages that hovered along the desert horizon. Even now, there wasn't a distinct answer he could give whether this femme was an innocent trapped in the web of corruption or an unknown danger hiding beneath a pretty face and apathetic attitude. The musings interested Zahhak, and Evandr needed their open mental connection to hear his own wondering - a low, throaty growl shook the air immediately around the beast as his fiery eyes watched the quicksilver woman. When she spoke the behemoth male did not turn back to listen, but offered the flop of an audit in her direction as his ocean cool gaze remained stalwart and forward, seeing images of years long past in the confines of his own silent construct. Didn't fear death? It begged a snort from Evandr's nostrils. So he was right. Zahhak's growl arched with a curious throw of air pulled through the complicated confirmation of his nostrils and maw, and his visage snaked lower. "Foolissssh mare... you sssshould, essssspecially me."

The Warden struggled to hide the smirk that Zahhak's commentary inspired, but finally did abandon the phantom memories of yesteryears to turn back to the obsidian feathered vixen as she inquired about the connection he shared with the beast beside him. Zahhak prickled himself. He adjusted the distribution of his weight, and while it seemed a simply thing, the spines and spiked carapaces of his hide shifted in a wave from his shoulders to the thick of his tail in an eerie silence only deadened by the crunch of sand beneath his girth. "Yesssss, Warden. Can you ssspeak to me...?" the beast's voice inquired in his mind, a strange, intoxicating concoction of handsome, fluid vocals and hoarse, scratching undertones. Evandr, also spined and also shifting so that his far less remarkable tines slipped through the atmos, adjusted further to toss an arched, furrowed view of her. "Yes." his voice was curt, but the answer did not explain the rather complex process. "In a convoluted way." Did Avarice really just approach to question him about Zahhak? Was her fearlessness in the face of an apex predator so numbed that even if Zahhak wasn't as restrained she would have wagered her life for inspection? There was a resilience that most exiles needed to survive in the sands... but as of now, Evandr wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't just being stupid.


"Evandr talking" "Zahhak talking"

W C: 596
T A G: Avarice
V O I C E: Idris Elba
M U S E: 3/5
O O C: ...

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]