Sunset Days. [Kalta]

[♕BEFERA]

The air was cold and quiet as the Empress stepped down into the bowl of Tiff Cliff. Her violet eyes were calm, but there was a flickering of gloom deep within their abysmal gaze. Her reign would soon come to an end, and she felt as though something was missing. Styx was a yearling now, and she had been allowing him to go off on his own as long as he stayed within Imperium's boundaries, knowing that he would learn from the mistakes he would make, the words he spoke to strangers. Curled locks dangled long and unruly as the brindled Queen began to make her way to the center of the arena. Atticus soared above her, watching the area around them for any unsuspected visitors. Even in his old age, his first priority was to protect his mistress. Nirvana recalled the battles that had taken place here, though they were battles she hadn't seen. She had heard of battles from long ago, the ancients fighting to the death. She had heard of son fighting father, but aside from that, how long had this land sat idle, no blood shed, since she had taken her throne? Years, she thought. The war battles had taken place on the Light territories, keeping them from escaping, fleeing to new lands, away from the Empress's eye. The tangerine hellion huffed a snort and looked down at her hooves: hooves that had walked hundreds of miles. The Queen was tired, but she had to keep fighting on, she had to prepare her son for what was ahead. She knew he would find allies with his charismatic ways, much unlike herself. Nirvana remembered when she had first met Alexei, a time that she recalled often, for reasons she didn't really understand. The Empress, before she was Empress, before she knew Obascus, was a harsh and angry creature. She was guilty but proud, pompous but desperately wanting the appreciation of others. A walking contradiction. She had assumed, back then, that everyone would obey her and welcome her as Queen. It was a given, to her, that this place would become her playground, where her subjects would dance in their Darkness and that one day she would reign over everything. Everything? She did not rule everything, and now, she realized that she never really would. Her high point had passed. Her life was in its settling stages, in its decline. She had changed the world, and somehow, that wasn't enough. Maybe Styx would take Altus one day. How proud a mother she would be then. The Harbingers had stepped down, abandoned the gift they had accepted from the dying lips of Vita Cinis, the mare slain by one Nirvana had begun to call a friend. Pestilence. He was an old brute, but a wise one. His past had weighed on him too heavily, and he took his revenge. Was he right? Was he wrong? The Empress decided that she would never know the truth. Pestilence would be stupid to come back here. He would be hunted and killed by those who loved Vita as their Queen, their sister in arms. The Empress closed her violet occulars and lifted her face to the sun, letting the trickling warmth of the last few days of autumn bury itself in her fur and caress the skin beneath. It was warm, comfortable. What better a place to feel comfortable than a battlefield? There would be no battle here for Altus, much like how there was no battle for Altus before it became Altus. A gust of air, eight prickling talons. Nirvana lowered her great skull and opened her eyes. Atticus side-stepped up the mare's spine and tugged at a piece of her scraggly mane. The Queen did not respond, purposefully waiting for what the bird would do. A small noise came from the ivory beast, a sad sound. Nirvana twisted her skull toward her friend, looking him in his coral voids. He cared for her so much, more than any stallion would. More than her children would. More than her family did. He loved her for everything she was, and stayed with her unless she commanded him otherwise. He was the truest of friends. "We've come a long way, you and I," the Empress spoke softly. The raven dipped his head down and up again, agreeing. The brindled Queen smiled. words: 724 tagged: Kalta muse: SO MANY FUCKING FEELINGS

[RANJIT;;]

KALTA

[smear:f04602]holy water cannot help you now
a thousand armies couldn't keep me out
i don't want your money
i don't want your crown
see, i've come to burn your kingdom down[/smear:541d3b:1]

Oh but do the decalescent temperatures caress his abyssal form! Languidness does bleed into every lissome stride; colourless tendrils dance at silken hinds and twine about two-toned hocks. Baking winds lick at a muscled chassis and a shiver does run down that perfect spine; leathered labrums curl into a ferine smile and sanguine pleasure can be read within pastel oculars. Burning is he and burning is he not; oh but he craves that burn to drive out the terror of the C O L D. Loathe the cold does the hessian and but the merest semblance of contemplation of such a thing drives twin towers to press down into tanged tendrils. Smile vanishing, adenoids flare to inhale and boiled wisps of air carry forth the pong of some other being and now interest is writ upon that heavenly countenance. The streaked visage does rise upon a starless scruff and there can be seen curiosity within those terrible visionary spheres. Ebon daggers press to cracking soil and forth does that two-toned chassis move, purpose within steady strides and he is but poetry in motion, the vision of perfection; nape beautifully arched with caudal a swirling banner of pride, honor, and valor. This creature, whose embodiment appears only to be owned by so pure a soul, must truly be a brilliant being, one without malice, without cruelty, with a h e a r t.

Down does this angelic being descend and now the terrible odor of death life blood and DECAY enter into plumed nasal passages. Olfactory nerves all but twitch at such an abhorrent assault upon such delicate senses and those finely fluted aural receptacles lower to pin once more to that starless poll. Beneath one inky dagger, ivory does shatter and splinters fly everywhere; a downward glance of pastel visionary pools reveal to this hessian that he has stepped into the ruins of an equus skull, which has broken beneath his mass. If this abrupt realization perturbs the statuesque beast, nothing of it shows upon that striped façade and indeed, if anything, this creature seems amused. To auditory senses come to silken croon of some femora; scent alone would reveal sex to him but nothing but a female could purr that breathy murmur. And stir does this interest into this terrible but beautiful monster and forth does he all but glide on languorous cannons until this creature once veiled in shadow appear before his eyes. Pastel carmines might have widened upon another visage but too controlled are terrible emotions to become visible on a streaked façade. Yet even this charming beast cannot deny his own curiosity at the sight of an avian companion with this femme fatale.

”My, my,” comes forth that svelte, affluent voice; there may be an accent to her auditory canals. From shadows does he seem to unfurl, ivory markings upon that visage and those sleek cannons appearing first then the vague figure firming before her. Filaments fall with grace along his visage, playing over sparkling visionaries and oh dear, he is s m i l i n g – danger does lie here in that charismatic smile. Will she see it? Oh, but he finds himself hoping that she does; a challenge within this creature would excite such passions within him! Vocal cords vibrate upon unused air and a low chuckle purrs forth from his throat. Yards off he does stop, respectful of this towering bitch who holds some hands upon him still. ”What a lovely creature stands before mine eyes! And such a handsome companion for so beautiful a mare. I am Kalta, comrade,” left fore slides forth and his nape extends down in a flamboyant bow; that final word forms something as an affective, brimming quiet respect that perhaps this ember burnt femme has not yet earned. That sleek skull down arise and twin towers twist forth to listen to whatever syllables might fall forth from such a perfect maw; if he is poetry, she is prose, an inexorable force of beautiful nature that stops before nothing, bends before no one, and obeys solely Nature herself. ”A lady such as you can only be the ruler of this little land. Am I worthy of your name, temptress?”

count. 701
tagged. Nirvana
notes. trying a slightly new style with him, similar to the one i use on tumblr now. kinda shit because i've been awake for basically ever (going on 20 hours now xD) but will get smoother/better/longer.

[♕BEFERA]

Atticus broke their heartfelt moment, his pinked occulars darting away, toward an approaching form, dark and splashed white. Nirvana's expression melded back into its stoic, bored form, her violet eyes glossing over, like she was preparing to welcome another visitor into Obascus. The brute was far shorter than she was, and much smaller than most equine she had come in contact with since she had arrived in the lands. His voice was sinister in a way that the Empress couldn't seem to pinpoint, but she watched the brute's movements, looking for hints of any devious motives. It was obvious that not many creatures set foot on this land when there was no battle to witness, and the Queen naturally wondered, why was he here? He complimented her, and a smile twitched and fluttered at the corner of the orange witch's maw, but she kept it under wraps. He spoke his name, then bowed, winning him further brownie points behind Nirvana's blank stare. She noted the seemingly affectionate term he laced at the end of his greeting: comrade. The wicked Empress had seen many-a-quirky creature in her time, those who greeted with strange words or gestures, but she had never seen anyone who used that particular word. In fact, it wasn't a word she had heard often in her life to begin with. She assumed it was truly meant to be a term of endearment, coupled with his compliments on her beauty. There was something behind his kindness, though, but the brindled villainess didn't bother to decipher it, at least, not now. She rose a brow at his final statements, slightly amused at his lack of knowledge. He must be new around here, not quite aware that the Cliff was owned by no one. Maybe she would be able to educate him. Nirvana eyed him for a few moments before speaking, feeling Atticus shift nervously upon her spine. "You are correct that I am a ruler, but not of this land. I am Nirvana, Imperium Empress. It is a pleasure to meet you, Kalta. I don't see many these days who will bow to their Queen, therefore your actions are welcomed." She paused, but did not look from the pastel voids of the bleach-barred brute. The Empress was still in the midst of enjoying the sun on her pelt, and flickered her curled whipcord against her fetlocks, missing the moment of peace before this stag came upon the scene. "I imagine you are a newcomer here. This place is called Tiff Cliff. It is a hallowed battleground. It is not owned by anyone in particular, though the blood and bones of those who fought here have more right to it than anyone." The Empress tried to lighten her expression with an awkward twitch of a grin, but she wasn't too determined to make this stallion like her. She wasn't interested in asking him why he had come, for he had more than likely just wandered until he found another to speak with. Atticus relaxed, realizing that a brute this small couldn't possibly be too much of a threat for his champion Queen. Nirvana noted that this stag was not young, that his visage showed his years. He was about her age, it seemed, possibly a bit younger. She wondered what he had seen in his lifetime, where he had been, what wind tossed him into this valley. words: 563 tagged: Kalta muse: good, sorry this is a bit short. i'm about to head to work. the next post should be longer/better.