|| Bury me and fade to black...!

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,349,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=#747170] 'You can hardly fight with one who knows all...'

[/color][/font]


The massive stallion stood without apprehension on the edge of the cliff face, clouded eyes then cast to inspect the torrential waters lapping at the sides of the island. Saggezza was reeling, withering like a fish cast from water under his command, stretching the reach of his poweress when none other than his own were there to bear witness. His mind cast a shield of thought that cradled his being, farther yielding against his dire sense of concentration. Inspeculates and inquires into the years were not to be taken in idle stride, a thought that made the far corner of his scarred lips turn up at the mere foolishness of such a gesture. There were many things in need of turning over in mind, the stag not feeling the wonder of speaking them on tongue. Mystery was a shroud he welcomed, but without the troubling pressures, a facade or an act was rendered useless and beyond comprehension. Water beaded across his skin, silencing the warm wake of the summer wind with the easy diversional cross. Greymarch was not to be played like a marionette in another's grotesque puppet show. Before the Wisdom Lord was all of the answers he needed, all the ones he desired, however bitter or otherwise they could see. Yes, he could alter them shall he choose. But that was a topic of breaking sacred oaths, intervening when time sought to run its own course. Many years he had pondered these solutions, digging deeper than most would care. Here he was as on the dawn of each new day, standing at the top of his homeland, calling to the waters, the winds, and the surroundings. Unknowingly as the sparks cracked closer. A fit of the ages just on the brink, he there to inspect and count the ways Isola would be changed.

Sightless to the wonders of the beauty of this time, ears flickered with the thoughtfullness of where one could go. Pray, where was the rest of them, hiding under rocks? A teasing breath from his throat so soundless, thoughtful, and soft. Laughter as it hung before him, swinging on a thread. What more was there to venture when all was slowly crumbling, convulsing in on itself. Pulling of lips to the knowing of a smirk. Tides could change, but not their course, brought by the endless pull of the moon. The past had already written what lay ahead, and the Chikoa knew for himself who would play the part. Yet he waited another heartbeat on his perch, contemplating victory when there was no side to choose. Running through a battle course when all he was doing was chasing wraiths. Wise was he, when that was his nature? The isle leads, the elementals and the mortals, had not hosted any sort of stance, not sought guidance, yet there was always the barrier before his mind. There was a place he needed to reach out on this day, a part of his fate need be completed, and he knew it would tip the stone farther, allowing it to fall. Just like that, without blood or flames, the balances would be cast. A ghostly haunt of smile on his features, allowing the wind to settle, the waves to calm, the air to linger, and the sparks to die. Greymarch turned away from his usual sight with a spark in his blinded eyes.

Where was that child of his? Not a matter more as a whim. Cast to the shadows, no other wise ones to heed. Mudbloods, not immortals, nothing to bask upon the isles. The foolish chasing of a tail under the bliss of an ignorance suffered. Yet he would have to leave his perch, something tasted so sparingly, though he had all the tricks under his skin, the fires in his pelt, and was not afraid. He already knew what was set. The odd colored equine could be so many things, a conquerer of lands when he took away their powers under their tails. Yet here he stayed, so humbly unsought, in the reaches of a land...maybe so some forgot. Mortals not search for Elementals in a time like this. Though an elemental had sought a mortal. What akin a thought. Disgrace, was he to feel? The iron on his skin. Nay, Greymarch already knew this stallion and his way. The path he was tottering to vacant with space, and he was once more smiling as he hit the trails past the caves. To Belle Valle he was to march, to find one who would be the first to start. What a thought for him to seek. His energy rising like the tide again.
Mark me traitor, or call me your own.

[/center]

[/size][/blockquote][/font][/color]

Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: ....

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,349,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=#000000] The place sheltered amongst the unsuspecting neither became a mirage nor illusion to the weathered eye, the pulling of concentrated contemplation as the brute moved amongst the silence pressure towards the presence he knew all too well. There was the undignified pulling of heart strings, the connection still to be made, with the winds on the rise like the settling tide, Call Me Jack was at a place that was not his own home. It was the land of his father, as justified, settling into the scope of Elemental reign as hundreds of years has been taken. Though in knowing of the suspect of secrets that this place flourished with its hiding, it was not an ease of burden that the stallion now sought, but the chastising of actions that would lament him with words, the pain already sharpening his senses with the aura of his father continued. Brushing the hairs on his coat, standing with electricity stemming from a mind Jack would never be able to penetrate with his own, from thoughts that were endlessly whispering, tugging at his conscious, but where in a whole different language, voices he could never hope to understand. Stretching before these endless amounts of energy was the trail that would lead him to the other, though it was not by choose or liking that brought him straight and true. It was the fabrication of chose, but the pull of the needle through cloth, of the quilt of no free will that he was bound to. The blind Elemental stood on the edge of the cresting hilltop, as though taking to peer down at his offspring with an elegant flare of choose and fashion. Calm was the external demeanor, feigned was the collected pose he took about his expression, for the coiling of his aura could but give away what lay under the thickened coating of his hide, the chords of muscles meaningless to what ability could be summoned with a mere blink of the eye. Call Me Jack's nostrils flared, throat burning with the inferiority that was cast down upon him by the other, his hidden eyes clouding with the memories thrust down. No matter how the grasp of his own poweress grew beyond the usual scope, there was little to be done to battle away the unwelcomed thoughts and disturbances so oft given by the proximity. Words need not be exchanged, for the whispering had an edge that made his pelt crawl and spine shiver with a new wake of cold. The young stag felt weakened, like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, his mind more than under attack, each little voice like a dagger across his pelting. Futile, wasn't it? To fight back, to push against the pressure building inside of his head. His father before him, motionless, yet the angry was distorting his figure about, as though he was not real but an illusion or haunt, a spook come to give nightmare. Greymarch. Name like adding salt to an open wound, like sticking a hot iron to the skin. Forgive me was what he may plead, for his actions were true to a fault. I was not in it for the sake of pleasure, Father, but to save her from the fate's constricted. She needed my help, and it was my task to be given. She was not hurt, nor wronged, nor burdened unjust. I was trying to help! I saved her, sire. She has been saved. At what cost? Was the reply, like nails driven into his sides. What have you done? The voice asked, as though he was the one to be burdened with guilt for the task the past would now lend, for the child he had sired, a spawn from his loins. Looking into the clouded eyes that saw more than any one equine could witness, into the blind eyes that could see. The Seeing Blind. The pain was sharp for the intrusion of tongue, for the speaking out of turn, for not listening. You are not one to save others. You are not their god, nor their slave. You are my son. You are an Elemental. Act like one, or be left when the fire's start once more. The ashen commands as Jack felt the need, the pressure without the seeking of release. I will pay for my sins. A promise without light. Don't harm the mare... You shall pay in her stead. Wilting like flowers lit by a match.

[/color]

Muse: ...
OOC: .....
Music: Requiem :: Linkin Park

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]