tria 22nd, 81381. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d come back here. His mother was dead, and all of his friends were probably long gone or something. Requiem’s hands tightened around each other until his knuckles became white. Overload, overheating, please reboot, must reboot... His problem was solved, however, as he shifted and caused the bag at his side to make a muffled but audible clanging sound - of course. He'd almost forgotten about his original plan for the evening, which had been, in the frankest of terms, to drink himself into oblivion. As such, an often-used flask of some alcohol (‘Quiem didn't recall clearly which, he had just grabbed the most accessible bottle in the house) was situated oh-so-conveniently in the messenger bag. Sighing and causing a few misguided strands of striped hair to flutter, Requiem reached into the bag and withdrew the silver bottle with slender, shaking hands. He leaned backwards and buried one hand against the frozen ground while the other lifted the flask to his lips and dumped almost half of its contents into his waiting mouth. He wondered if he bathed in the stuff if it would turn his entire being to fire. The thought was pleasing and he let his green eyes close slightly as he took another sip, the drink making him looser, bolder. Thoughts of his parents and his path of redemption fled and paled in comparison to the feeling unparalleled that boiled and magnified within him, and Requiem eventually stood up, the flask resting in the snow beside him. He opened his mouth and screamed. It was a sound that a merely mortal throat should not have been able to utter; it wound out across the ice, across the ocean, mingled with the storms on the sea, caused the dark clouds to curdle into new and unpleasant shapes. It went on and on. It resounded across the universe, and it rattled the celestial spheres. It spoke of loss, and it did not stop for a very long time. And then it did. Something drained away. Requiem’s head tilted down, and his absinthe-green eyes opened. The ghastly silence in the air was replaced by a noise that had been very familiar to ‘Quiem in his years here: the mere and simple absence of silence.
(ooc: Eek. Turned out a lot longer than I figured it would be xD 6897 characters... I've managed much longer but what the hey xD Sorry for the wait, and don't you need to timestamp the thread?) It is cold. Way too cold. That was all Mage think of, as he pressed as much of his body as he could to the back of the Garguan he was riding. He was wearing several layers of sweaters, several layers of sweat pants, a heavy parka with the hood covering his entire head, and thick, fluffy boots. This entire ensemble made him look several times wide than he really was, but he could still feel the bitter coldness of the Arctic climate. A friend of his, a Yki he had met a week back, had insisted that he travel up north to where her tribe was camped and perform for them. How the Yki could stand the freezing temperatures of the northern continent, he didn't know. He was a Lukuo, with fur so short it was no more than a bristle--definitely not suitable for wintery weather. Mesaph, Mage's fluffy white, kitten-sized companion was up to her ear-tips in the Garguan's mane. She was nearly invisible, the only hint that there was something there was a glint of gold from her tail ring, and the presence of white feathers among the thick white fur. At first she had been quite excited to go to a new place, that was until they had gotten so far north that the cold temperatures nipped at her ears. Now all she wanted to do was lay there until the Garguan took them back south. Neither Mage, nor Mesaph spoke since they had begun their journey northward. This particular Garguan was trained to walk back and forth from the Sompjufylv tribe camp and the southern end of the continent, so it had no driver. Mage was wedged between the hump at the base of the beast's neck, and the basket that they should be in, and mesaph was about half a foot above where Mage 's head was resting. They should have been riding in the basket, but the fur on the Garguan's back seemed too warm and cuddly to pass up. There was a video camera in the basket that was meant to ensure that the Garguan's passengers were safe in their seats, but Mage had Mesaph write a note and they stuck it infront of the camera explaining where they were. The two remained quiet, and their ride was peaceful. Peaceful until out of no where, the silence was broken by a loud, sudden scream. In surprise and fear, the Garguan reared up and roared, tossing Mage and Mesaph to the snowy ground before charging into the tundra, with their equipment still firmly tethered inside the basket. Mage had been knocked out the second he hit the ground, though Mesaph seemed to have a softer impact, as she remained quite conscious. She crawled towards Mage's head, and began nudging him with her paws. <span style='color:white'>"Mage? Mage, wake up! You can't sleep here!"</span> Mage gave no response. Mesaph grew more frantic with every second that passed and Mage would not wake up. <span style='color:white'>"Mage! You have to wake up! Please! Wake up! W-wake up..."</span> Mesaph was in tears now. She wouldn't accept it if her dear friend died in front of her. Tears dripped from her golden eyes, onto Mage's exposed muzzle. Mesaph was crying in full blow, and didn't notice the effect her tears seemed to have on her fallen friend. A bright gold light emanated from the spot where her tears had stained Mage's nose, and spread until his entire body was glowing beneath layer upon layer of clothing. Unable to not notice it for much longer, Mesaph blinked, tears still falling from her eyes. Slowly, the light faded, and Mage began to stir. <span style='color:navy'>"Urgh..."</span> mumbled the Arden, as he pushed himself into a sitting position while fighting off a very relieved Mesaph. He felt around himself, all he felt was snow. He could hear a scream that was just beginning to fading out. That was wrong. He could have sworn they were riding a Garguan to... somewhere. He picked Mesaph up by her wings and inquired <span style='color:navy'>"Wha... What happened Mesaph?"</span> Mesaph was clinging tightly to Mage's throat, nuzzling his chin when her friend made a grab for her. To focused on clinging to Mage to dodge, Mage had no problem plucking her off his being. She squeezed herself into a tight ball to protect herself from the chilly air that was nipping at her toes. She blinked at his inquiry, but spoke up quickly. <span style='color:white'>"Someone screamed real loud and scared the Garguan out of it's wits. It bucked us off and charged away towards the tribe's camp."</span> Great. Just great. Here they were, in the bitter cold of Druv, with no way of contacting anyone, and no shelter for miles. Nothing but open fields of snow in either direction for all Mesaph could see, and Mage couldn't even see a millimeter infront of him. Who knew how long it would take to get to the Sompjufylv camp on foot. Since they were not in the basket when all this happened, no one would know what happened until the Garguan reached it's destination alone. Mage wasn't keeping track of the time, nor was Mesaph. It could take hours or even days before they even realized they were in trouble. They'd both be frozen pendragoncicles by the time they were found. Mage got up onto his feet, and stuffed Mesaph into his parka, so only her head could be poked out if she wanted to, though she kept herself completely hidden in his coat.. All he could smell was the bitterly cold snow all around him, and he could only hear the sound of the howling wind. Nothing that would point him in the right direction. He wouldn't let Mesaph lead him if she wanted to -- last thing he needed was to lose her in the snow. Being blind sucked ass. He couldn't see, but he had to keep moving. Otherwise they would both freeze in the cold. He headed in the only direction that one particular sound was coming from -- the scream. Someone or something was screaming, and as much as he would like to put as much distance between himself and it's source as he possibly could, it could be the only hope of their survival. He kept walking in the same direction for about ten to fifteen minutes. The scream had finally died, but fortuneately by the time he did, he had already caught the scent of the source -- it was indeed a pendragon. An arden who seemed emotionally distressed, but otherwise may be of somehelp to him and Mesaph. Mesaph poked her head out of Mage's coat, and set her gaze on the greyish form of what appeared to be a cross between a Yki and another sub-species of pendragon. As they approached, she could get a better look at him. Mostly grey with acid green eyes, and various markings all over him. He also had a bunch of piercings on his ears - way cool. Forgetting about the chill of the air around them, Mesaph darted out of Mage's coat and flew right into Requiem's face, squealling <span style='color:white'>"Hello you!"</span> They were in the middle of Ramath's coldest continent, facing death by hypothermia and Mesaph was as happy as a clam -- go figure.
A phantasmal wraith of ivory sat silently amongst the snow-whispered mists, the occasional shafts of moonlight revealing a striking pair of piercing absinthe-green eyes. Shaking his finely-chiseled head to rid his mind of any obtrusive thoughts until the... opportune moment, as it were, Requiem drifted into an easy lope towards the owner of the voice he’d just heard - and allowed his powerful paws to grip and hold the earth in a viselike grasp as cessation claimed his steps. For a long moment, the white Yki did nothing; he had indeed become more and more taciturn as the nagging feeling of inner discord had grown. And slowly, almost mechanically, the arden lowered his head and let his tail fall, sitting down with his knees drawn up to his chest. He was painted in shades of alabaster and umbra, illuminated in the moon's waxen light with rime guard hairs. The duo-tinctured mane and hair of the abysmal arden rippled lightly in the wind, motes of snow and hail tangling and clinging amongst its silky luxury. Lowering his head, ‘Quiem shook himself vigorously, revealing gray undertones to his pelage as the army of snowflakes shuddered away from his slender form. "Hello!" he called back. He’d seen the ‘dragonless garguan walk towards his tribe a few seconds ago, and the powerful muscles at the bases of his ears tucked them into his hair as the cold assaulted them. Requiem rose then, as only a proper host would do, and began to walk towards the pair. He stalked forwards until he stood in front of them, the ghost of a smile lacing his lips - and then a fuzzy little furball hit his face. He lost his balance for a moment, somewhat inebriated from the liquor he’d consumed earlier, before speaking, his voice muffled by Mesaph's fur; he made no attempt to pull her off. "You two are lost, I assume?"
(ouch. first I give you a long wait and a mega long post, then give you another long wait and a short post x_x; Sorry.) Mage nodded, plucking Mesaph out of the air and away from the Yki-mix's face. Why the grey arden haden't attempted to get away from Mesaph's 'greeting' was beyond him, but hey... Maybe people liked having furballs assault their faces? "Yeah, our... What cha callem... Garguan ride got spooked and kinda knocked us off his back. Now we're stuck out here. Do you know how far the Sompjufylv tribe's camp is from here?"
ooc. I am soooo sorry. I completely forgot about this. ic. The rockstar made a muffled, grunting noise as the furball was pried off his face, and surveyed the two pendragons. One was lean and handsome, his eyes covered by a blindfold - he was blind, 'Quiem assumed - and the other a puffy sphere. Half-drunk, with inner despair settling in, a wry half-grin settled over Requiem's snow-dusted features. He wanted nothing more than to lay down on the ground and sleep, but there were two people who needed his help. "Ah..." he said, his words slightly slurred by the booze. "What are you doing all the way up here? I used to be a Sompjufylv, but I was a kylyj'cep - a color-kid, and people hated me because I was different... in the end, they knew better than to fuck with me, and then I left, got an education, and now I'm a rockstar. Heh." He laughed, a harsh, chuckling sound like the call of a crow. "But look at me now... all the way back up here, drinking and screaming my memories away. I'm pathetic, aren't I?" The boy shrugged, adjusting the bag on his chest. "The tribe is about a half-mile away - I can show you guys there. Wonder if anyone will remember me..."
