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Post by Person on Dec 24, 2012 13:38:56 GMT -5
Silent Storm gladly removed himself from Turnkey's back and helped the unicorn to his hooves as well. Sil wobbled slightly, the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body unwilling to stop his energetic actions.
"Good show, my friend. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Sil said to Turnkey, slightly concerned for his well-being, "But how's about we get a little sleep before daybreak? We don't want to show up at your friend's house half-conscious."
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 24, 2012 16:01:45 GMT -5
"Oh, not at all," assured Turnkey, despite the fact that he was actually aching. But alas, that is the end result of a sparring match.
"But how's about we get a little sleep before daybreak? We don't want to show up at your friend's house half-conscious."
He smiled at the thought of sleep, but mayhap not quite yet. There was one more thing he had to do. "Lead the way," he said, following up with, "Are you suffering any damage from our little game?" as soon as they had begun moving back inside.
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Post by Person on Dec 25, 2012 1:14:20 GMT -5
"Oh, nothing especially damaging, but I'll have to watch my side if I'm out flying tomorrow," Silent Storm said, referring to the area of his midsection that Turnkey had managed to kick twice, "It shouldn't bother me much."
Sil closed the back door behind he two of them once they had both entered his abode once again. He led the unicorn up a small flight of stairs into what he called his bedroom. He once again flicked a number of tongues of flame around the room, lighting various lamps and candles. It was a modestly decorated living space, but had a warm feeling to it. A couple of dressers, inlaid with celtic designs, lay against one wall next to a closet. His bed sat at the end of the room with a small table next to it, upon which sat a lamp, a bookmarked novel entitled "Troubled Times", and a framed picture of Lunar Mist next to Sil, both smiling brilliantly. The bed itself was quite large for just one pony, but Sil enjoyed stretching out his wings and limbs beneath the covers. Speaking of covers, the bed was covered with two fluffy pillows and a single large quilt that hung to the ground on all sides of the bed, its numerous squares depicting a great battle of dragon against pony.
"You can do what you like, but I'm gonna hit the hay,"Sil said and yawned dramatically. He plodded back down the stairs and over to the bean bags that were his current sleeping conditions. He arranged them together to form a makeshift bed then stood next to them, relaxed. He stomped his hoof on the ground and all the lights that had been lit on the lower floor were extinguished, taking a substantial amount of energy out of Sil's body. Though all of the lit flames were small, he'd been maintaining them from a distance away, out back when they'd sparred, and for quite a long time. He collapsed onto the bean bags and went from conscious to otherwise as soon as his head struck the soft cloth of the two voluminous cushions.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 25, 2012 2:14:02 GMT -5
Turnkey bowed to Sil as he left, then immediately let his mind set itself aglow with it's natural tasks. Meanwhile, he tuned out all but one of the lights, sauntered over to the window, and drew back the curtain. He could only just see the moon, so he decided it best to claim a better viewpoint.
After a quick teleport to the roof, he kneeled down, and began singing:
"Tonight, I am blessed, by the coolness you bring, your gift to me bequeathed, and so to you I sing. You speak to me of what is real, you take away the pain I feel, For you, I live on.
Black and white, dusk and dawn, though not the same, they yield So why are there no soldiers upon your battlefield? Your punishment, to be gone from us, your followers obsequious For you, I fight on.
In their minds, a scapegoat, to blame on, what they saw. Twas you they chose, their ruler, their fury unbridled and raw. They sent you away from this land you love thinking you were to be fearful of, For you, I cry on.
I'll wait for you, my princess, your smile, I shall miss And when to us you return, know that you bring bliss. A thousand years, I will wait for you to your name, I shall be true For you, I hold on."
Turnkey thought back to when his mother had taught him that song. It was more than thirty years ago, when he had had trouble sleeping. Later in life, he learned that the reason behind his sleeping problem was not due to the discomfort that ebbed when he heard the song, but rather, his circadian rhythm. Still, it was a comforting song, passed down in his family through the generations.
He spent another hour staring at the moon, basking in the light of the eclipse, before finally going back inside. After extinguishing the last light, he lay down on the bed, released his spell, and immediately felt a sheer drop in his energy, causing him to drop into a deep, restful sleep, riddled with dreams of ventures of his own making.
[OOC: Writing a song from scratch in a matter of an hour is really challenging, but also kinda fun. I might just write out some notation, and post the song on YouTube, so you can hear it as I do. Mayhap.]
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Post by Person on Dec 26, 2012 3:23:25 GMT -5
Silent Storm slept like a newborn foal, but his slumber was interlaced with a dream. He envisioned a young dragon with scales the same hue as his coat, a long flanged tail with flecks of the same shade of brilliant blue as his mane of fire, and a pair of wings similar to his own. The reptilian fledgling sat among a scattering of equines of similar age sitting in an open, green field with a creek running through the middle of it. It approached two of the ponies who'd been playing with a big red ball, looking at both of them with large round eyes expectantly hoping for a turn with the thing-that-bounces-fun-round-play-toy. The two, a colt and a filly, recoiled at the sight of the dragon and moved away from him toward the other ponies.
The baby dragon watched as all the ponies in the field formed a huddle, occasionally glancing at him. The group broke up and collectively walked to the stream, and the dragon watched on, curious of what they might be doing at the cold-flowing-good-drink-wet-stream after coming out of the talk-think-idea-friend-group. They all suddenly whirled around and hurled the stones they'd just plucked from the river at the dragon. He yelped in surprise and pain as the hard-pointy-hurt-rocks struck his scales and wings. He ran away from the ponies as they laughed at him, still pelting him with stones from the river. He spread his wings and tried to fly away from them, but as soon as he took off, a stone his him square on the head and he fell the the ground, landing badly on his left wing and rolled across the ground until he came to to a stop, injuring most everything else, tears welling up in his eyes. The group reformed around the very hurt dragon, laughing and pointing, and every once in a while a kick from a pompous colt would strike him from and unknown side.
Just when the dragon thought he would start to cry, a snow white filly with a long, shiny jet-black mane stood over him and instead of making fun of him or hitting him like the others had, shouted a loud "Leave him alone!" glaring at the group with eyes that glowed with fury like those of a mother bear protecting her cub from a threatening stranger. The group mumbled in an irritated manner and the dragon received another kick before the circle dissipated, the only other one near him the white filly who'd been his savior. She helped him back onto his hands and placed a gentle hoof onto his shoulder.
Silent Storm's vision distorted, then darkened to blackness as he spent the rest of the night in uninterrupted slumber.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 26, 2012 4:30:35 GMT -5
Turnkey's own sleep was visited by an apparition of his own design.
He found himself in a moonlit field, a single tree sitting in a patch of tall grass. Just beside it, a grassy patch with glowing purple flowers arranged in a circle. In the middle of said circle was a tall mirror. Nopony else seemed to be around, so he decided to look into the mirror. He saw himself, younger and leaner, and a stronger muscular structure. However, his face seemed to be a moving black mass of tendrils.
As he was pondering this, he heard what seemed to be the sound of a snapping twig, right behind him. He turned to look, but alas, there was nothing there. He turned back to the mirror, this time seeing a frightened young foal, again with his face being blotted out by the dark tendrils.
Another sound from behind, this one being a loud creak, as if somepony was opening an old wooden door with rusted hinges. He turned to look again, seeing only the field and sky behind him. This time, when he turned to the mirror, he was older. Withered, barely able to keep himself on all four hooves, with his face still a mass of writhing strands of black.
Hoofsteps behind him, but nopony to see. However, in the mirror beside him, the face of another stood. Blue eyes, coat, mane and tail, with large, fluttering wings. "Greetings, young one," said the pony, in a monotonal voice, no real expression on his face.
"Incubus," sighed Turnkey. "Why are you here?"
"You have seen into the mirror. It tells you what you need to know about yourself."
"Mirrors give reflections. Nothing else." After a brief moment of thought, he added, "Unless one is dreaming, in which case, they do the bidding of the mind that created them."
"Then it seems as if your mind is trying to tell you something."
"Like what?"
"I cannot say," answered Incubus, holding his monotone incredibly well.
"Cannot, or will not?" asked Usutora, growing a bit impatient.
"It must be you to determine what it is you are trying to tell yourself. It's not my place to meddle in your affairs."
"Then what are you doing now?"
This comment caused Incubus to crack a smirk. "Trying to point you in the right direction," he said, after a while. "I know when I'm not wanted. I'll leave you two alone for now." he then proceeded to walk off, if only his reflection.
The two of them? Did he mean the mirror? Or mayhap... He turned, and saw a lovely young mare walking up to him, a dreamy look in her eyes. She had a long, flowing golden-brown mane and tail, a radiant pale pink coat, and eyes of the deepest blue.
"It's been some time since we last spoke, Uru," she said, twirling her mane around her hoof. "Why must you wait so long before calling upon me again?"
A soft scowl made it's way to Usutora's face. "You left me. Without even a warning, you had moved on to somepony else, leaving me alone, without anypony to call my own."
"But Uru, I only did that because I loved you."
"Oh? And how is running off with another stallion a sign of affection? You left me in pain, the deepest agony I've ever felt. You don't even deserve to call me Uru anymore. I've hated that name for decades because of what you did to me."
"I'm sorry, Uru. I wish I could make it up to you." Tears began welling in her eye's and those that fell splashed to the ground one by one.
Usutora didn't mean to bring her to tears, even if she was naught but a figment of his imagination. He walked up next to her, draped his right foreleg over her shoulder, and whispered into her ear. "If you want my forgiveness, then all I want is an apology. I know Incubus is still listening in, and I'm sure he would gladly deliver the message to you. We can still be friends, even if there's somepony else in your life."
She sniffed. "R-really?"
"Really"
One hug later, they lay down on the grass next to each other, staring into the stars for the remainder of the night. When he awoke, he found one of the purple flowers tucked behind his ear. It was actually quite fragrant.
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Post by Person on Dec 27, 2012 3:48:01 GMT -5
[46th of summer]
Silent Storm woke from his gentle sleep and promptly whacked his forehead on the coffee table he'd apparently wriggled himself beneath during the night as he sat up from the large cushions. He gently rubbed his now throbbing forehead with a hoof and managed to get onto his hooves. Not bothering to check if Turnkey was awake or not, figuring the unicorn would awaken when he did and he would not interfere, Sil proceeded groggily past the stairs and into the small bathroom just beyond it, his wings dragging on the ground the whole way.
Sil twisted the knob on the sink and not for the first time, was profusely grateful for running water, which had not been existent in the Everfree when he'd lived there. He cupped his wings beneath the cool liquid then splashed it upward, spraying his face with a spattering of water droplets. After washing up, Sil drew close to the mirror and gazed upon himself closely. To his surprise, he found flecks of dark... something... at the base of his ever-flowing mane of flame. They flickered along with the rest of his mane, but were somehow foreign or new. He brushed it out of his mind and exited the bathroom and plodded to the kitchen, preparing for himself some grits with brown sugar, butter, and raisins with a cool bottle of milk from the ice chest. He ate his simple meal contentedly while pondering when Turnkey intended to bring him to meet this friend of his.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 27, 2012 4:30:01 GMT -5
Turnkey awoke to the scent of butter and brown sugar. Not that he could distinguish the scent of butter or brown sugar from any other, but that scent combination usually meant there was soon to be Crepe Suzette in front of him, topped with Creme Chantilly. He pulled himself upright, taking in the scent that had left him such happy mornings in it's wake.
When he opened his eyes, however, he felt a bit confused. This wasn't the look of his brother's home, nor his own. The closest it looked to be was that of his bedroom at his mother's house, and even then it seemed odd. But then, memories of the previous day came flooding back to him, and he realized where he was, breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn't been captured and held.
He rubbed his neck, noting the indents left by his picks, and cursing himself for not removing his necklace before bed. He swung his legs out from under the quilt, feeling the urge to cover them immediately as the cold air gnashed at his coat, but placing them on the floor anyway. A quick stretch as he walked over to the window, as part of his morning routine, revealed that he was up earlier than usual.
Suddenly, he felt his stomach rumbling, and he knew it was time for breakfast, at least in his mind. He walked over to the door, dispelling the illusions that followed him out of his dream, and trodding down the steps, thinking there was one more step than there was, causing him to comically stumble, just a bit. Despite that, he casually strode into the kitchen with a "Good morning," directed at Sil, who was already sitting at the table.
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Post by Person on Dec 28, 2012 0:40:43 GMT -5
Silent Storm swallowed his bite of grits and managed a quiet "G' mornin." to Turnkey and held back a small giggle when he stumbled forward on his hooves coming down the stairs. He made short work of the remainder of the light brown food in his bowl and rose from his seat to rinse the brown sugar and butter residue from the bottom of the bowl. After a moments thought and a quick glance behind him to see if Turnkey was looking, Sil stuck his muzzle into the bowl and licked the delicious solution from its ceramic surface, not noticing that a small amount of it had found its way on top of his nose. He then rinsed the bowl out and placed it next to the sink along with his empty glass.
Sil sat back down at the table and opened a fresh copy of the Whinnyapolis Hoof Talk, the local free newspaper that highlighted upcoming events and various goings-on in the bustling city. His eye was caught by a headline, "Rare Artifact Comes To Whinnyapolis Museum of Art and History" He pondered for a moment if Turnkey was the one who made the locks to protect such a valuable exhibit, but didn't open his mouth to vocalize his wonderings.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 28, 2012 1:30:58 GMT -5
As Sil sat back down to his paper, Turnkey realized that he wasn't about to be offered breakfast, and the molasses stuck to Sil's nose would just taunt him untilhe left. He decided, then, the best option would be to walk about town for a little while, before meeting for lunch with his brother.
"So, anyway, thanks for letting me stay here last night, it was very generous of you," he offered, trying not to sound too miffed at not receiving breakfast. "I'll likely be back here around half past five, so I can show you how to get there, but for now, I have a few things in town I have to take care of. Again, thank you. You've been most hospitable."
He walked to the front door, hesitated for a second, then pulled open the door, ready to exit.
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Post by Person on Dec 28, 2012 2:42:18 GMT -5
Silent Storm thought he detected an odd tone in Turnkey's speech as he announced his exit. With a small amount of deduction, He realized he hadn't asked if Turnkey had wanted breakfast. He chastised himself mentally for not being used to offering the common social hosptality of the meal, having expected Turnkey to just get breakfast himself without invitation.
"Hey, aren't you going to eat first?" Sil called after Turnkey just as he opened the door to leave. "You're welcome to anything in the kitchen, but I made some extra grits if you would like them. Butter's in the ice chest and brown sugar and rasins are out on the counter." He guestured to a pot and two unmarked containers that sat adjacent to the stovetop.
Sil felt something dripping down his snout and wiped it from his face as he discovered some of the melted butter had gotten onto him from the bowl. His cheeks reddened slightly, but remained marginally the same.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 28, 2012 3:02:54 GMT -5
Turnkey hesitated for another moment, now that he had been offered a second meal. He had some things to do, some ponies to talk to... But they could wait. Now was a time for food, and new friends. He closed the door and made his way back to the kitchen.
"You don't mind? I don't want to overstep my bounds..."
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Post by Person on Dec 29, 2012 1:11:49 GMT -5
"Of course I'm sure. Talking to you has given me something to do other than practice with my dagger and carve up this place's walls," Silent Storm replied, "Sometimes I go days without so much as hearing my own v-voice, it's..." Sil struggled to find the right word, "It's... isolating. Yes, that's it, isolating. You c-can think and work and set yourself to some t-task or project, but the thought that you're alone a-and that nopony wants t-to be by you s-sits there, at the b-back of your m-mind, ever-present. I-it infects y-your ideas, your c-c-core p-personality."
Sil stopped talking, realizing he may have said a bit more than he should, the surge of horrid memories flooding into his mind bringing his stutter with them. He took a deep breath, trying to push the past behind him and calm down a little.
"I'm sorry, I was rambling a b-bit," Sil apologized to Turnkey, resting his head in his hooves, "I don't know wh-what happened for a second there, I just..." He sighed and then remained silent, waiting for the criticism and apathy from Turnkey that everypony else seemed to have in such ready supply.
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Kiernan
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Post by Kiernan on Dec 29, 2012 3:15:36 GMT -5
"You just felt like opening up, and baring yourself?" offered Turnkey, plating his grits with some butter. "It happens to the best of us, though usually without the stutter." He sat down, noticing that Sil looked like a child who had broken a rule, and was prepared to be berated. He thought about his last few words before adding, "Not that the stammer is condemning, that sort of thing just happens. More often than one would think, according to Tundra."
He then realized that he had slipped up. He had used Tundra's actual name, not his cover. If Sil knew the name, that would cause him to run, and Whinnyapolis would be added to the list of cities to avoid, plus a period of hiding out for a few months, where he wouldn't be found, and then having somepony change the wanted posters, before any of the three of them could set hoof in any town again. He had become too comfortable again.
"Err, I mean, Tiaga," he added, hoping that this little slip was corrected in time.
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Post by Person on Dec 30, 2012 1:25:03 GMT -5
Silent Storm listened intently as Turnkey spoke. Surprised the denunciation he'd expected didn't come, his spirits were lifted slightly and his head rose from their rest on his hooves. His ear detected a slight variation in his voice when Key corrected himself, but Sil figured if he had something to hide it had a right to remain hidden.
"Yes, I suppose that's what it was. Tiaga seems l-like he knows quite a bit about things," Sil replied, "But my stutter isn't anything new. I used to stutter every other word or even more often. It's just a burden from the parts of my past I'd rather f-forget than remember. I stopped going to speech therapy for it about three years ago, but every now and again it comes back, sometimes only slightly, sometimes in full force."
Sil slowly got up from his spot at the table and sauntered into the main hall where he retrieved his dagger from the wall and sheath, which was laying on the table, from the previous night. He strapped the sheath on and slid the dagger into its waiting holster, then plodded back into the kitchen. After considering Turnkey's integrity momentarily, he reached into a jar and pulled out a spare set of house keys he'd never used before and weighed them in his hoof for a moment. After brief hesitation, he tossed them onto the table in front of Turnkey.
"Could you lock up when you're finished?" Sil asked, "I've gotta... fly this off. I should return in the afternoon, if you wouldn't mind picking me up then." He walked out to the back and spread his wings, smiling at the warmth of moon-muted sun on his back, then suddenly took off, feeling the cool rush of wind across his coat. He pushed himself to go faster and faster in no specific direction, his mind entirely filled with concentration on maintaining his velocity, and within minutes was speeding over the Everfree forest.
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