Roleplay

I know! especially the little browns and radioactive ones. they make me wanna cry.

"Oh." That did explain some things, he thought, letting his wing relax to settle against Quinn's side again. The tundra could nearly be covered by it. Why Quinn shrunk after each statement, why he seemed so restless when waiting for a response, so taut with readiness to fend off a blow. Even now, he's shrunk into himself, trying to find protection in his own ruff.

Myrddin takes a breath, then says, "Quinn." When the tundra looks at him, he says, very clearly, "I am only used to considering my words before I say them. None of my silences should ever be taken as anything but a moment for me to absorb what you've told me." He speaks like he had when describing the embers of a heart, solemn and intent and sincere. His gaze, though unseen, is ancient, endless.

"It is with utmost respect, that I take such care to understand what you say."

He quirks a grin. "Though, if you'd like me to blurt whatever foolishness first comes to mind, I can do so. You might, however, tire of being called cute."

The smile that blossoms on Quinn's face makes his chest ache. What is it about this creature? he thinks wonderingly. "You have. It is as though the world has come into focus again. I can feel the salt sting my face from the waters around my domain; I can smell the sea. I can see the spray of stars in the sky, and hear the singing of the magic in the air. Everything is beautiful now, and I have you to thank."

Ugh all of them kill me, like some of the offspring are just too good

The tundra flinched softly at the single sound that let the coatl, no phrase, just 'oh'. The word stung, staining his memory like ink. A chill rain up his spine as possibilities clouded his thoughts, he knew of the mage's power and it terrified him. Never has he had to face someone who used magic, it was always the ones with strength pitted against him. Panic rose, chest tightening as the possibility of serious bodily harm crossed his mind. Quinn did not have the stomach for pain, and the warlock did not want to experience just what could be done.

The name startled him, Myrddin did not sound cruel. Slowly he glanced towards the other, body still coiled in a defensive position. Relief spread visibly throughout him, easing the tension within his tired body. A breath leaves him quickly, one he never knew was being held. Smiling softly the other felt giddy again, knowing he didn't make mistakes in what he said. The tone hit him hard, if there was any other way to show the relief that hit him the warlock did not know how to express it.

"Me tire of compliments given by a dashing mage? Now, I thought you were smart enough to know I could never tire of such things." Quinn teased, more relaxed now that he knew nothing was wrong.

"I wish I could tell you I understand the sensations, but I do not. However, I do understand what you meant, for i have never ventured out to the seas. I've heard their beauty is unmatched, then again perhaps we are talking about different bodies of water. For that statement is false, it would've seen you by now." Another flirt slipped from the chuckling Tundra, his smile hinting with flirtation.

oh bugger, the capsule makes them better, too. SIGH. you two. stop it.

The flirt surprises a laugh out of Myrddin, loud and sincere. "Beautiful, me?" he teases. "Have you not witnessed the phenomenon that is my hat?" It really is a silly thing, but Myrddin carefully chose what he wears for effect as much as anything else. And he's fond of the thing, now.

His wing settles more closely, now that Quinn is at ease, all the tension spilling away like water from a guardian's wings. His claws play idly with the vial on his chest as he lounges, dark fur mingling with pale feathers.

"If that is the case, I'll be sure to compliment you more," he teases, then whistles thoughtfully. "You've never experienced the sea? Have you lived longest here in the Icefields?" He pauses a moment, then admits, "My fortress is hidden in the seas beneath the Isles. The air there is nearly as alive as we are, and the water tosses like a living thing."

He looks off a moment, debating the harshness of his opinion, but then says, "This land has its beauties, to be sure. But...it feels rather empty."

Here, he doesn't say, it feels as though glaciers themselves are deities, groaning ancients who silently ease through the land, carving their way through their domain, unstoppable. But glaciers care nothing for that domain, only their own purpose.

Well now it's gotta be a thing, their kids are too perfect not to be a thing.

Quinn chuckled back, the laugh easing him a bit more. "I have indeed experienced it, it did sit on my head after all. " A larger smile curled, one of amusement. "At least it seems to suit you, I probably looked ridiculous in that hat of yours." Another chuckle left him as the warlock rolled onto his back, stretching out.

Fingertips rubbed against the small vial, rolling in in between them. It was a habit for the tundra to absentmindedly rubbed at the vial as he relaxed, even more so than before. The warmth the other gave to him was delicious, something the tundra had always craved but couldn't find within the ice covered lands.

"Yes. Though born in wind I was forced to flee to a place where they would never survive. So I made my way to the fields and have never left here. If they found me I could never feel safe again." Sighing softly he frowned, "This hiding had prevented me from experiencing the sea." The other glanced towards Myrddin, tilting his head a bit. "An underwater fortress where's there's magic in the air? That sounds so beautifully perfect for a mage of your caliber."

"You're not wrong, the fields are a very empty place. The few place with beauty are usually underground or made by those who make this their home." Quinn admitted, another sigh leaving him.

So many beauties around the world and the warlock was too scared to leave this lands in fear he might be found again. Even as an expert of transformation spells he trembled at t he thought of his old clan finding him. There wasn't a chance for survival if he did.

INDEED

fun fact: "myrddin" actually means "from the sea fortress", and is the welsh form of Merlin. which actually was my inspiration for him from the start.

"Ridiculously adorable, perhaps," Myrrdin says, letting it slip from him without fighting it. He grins after, teasing; he hadn't been joking, really.

Hearing that Quinn had been forced into hiding from his birth clan makes him frown deeply. His own family, proving a threat to a youngling? It is, unfortunately, not an unheard of thing, but Myrddin is suddenly more personally offended by this instance than others he might have learned of previously. It makes his feathers ruffle in anger, though he keeps that carefully smoothed away, lest Quinn think it directed at him.

"Still, those places are beauties," he says, then hesitates briefly. "...I can show you, if you wish. We do not even need to leave the safety of your chambers."

Wow that's amazing! I just like the name Quinn so he got it pfft

Quinn flushed slightly and laughed, waving off the compliment with a stupid grin. The tone in which it was said made his heart throb, such sweet things had rarely been said to the warlock in his entire lifetime. One person complimented him with that tone, and it had been the engineer.

A frown, he glanced towards the other. He could feel how angry the other had gotten, the way his feathers shifted about the same way Samael's did after one of his coughing sprees. However he didn't feel as if it was directed at him, there as something else that angered him. Perhaps their past was a subject which could bring angry, his previous love had always gotten the same way. Every time something was mentioned the engineer had pulled him close, so gentle, yet rage boiled in those deep blue hues.

Perhaps, just maybe, talking about his past angered those who cared for him.

"How could you show me the ocean without leaving this ship?" He laughed softly, "Myddrin if you put this boat in the ocean the captain will not hesitate to freeze you. It has been far too long since the ship has sailed, and their are far too many leaky boards and holes for her to stay afloat."

Myrddin watches Quinn squirm with a dumb grin. Anything sweet seemed to make the warlock melt, and it's too precious, in the coatl's opinion.

He bursts out a laugh at Quinn's statement. "No, no!" he assures him. "That is not what I meant, my dear. Indeed, this poor ship is quite embedded, and while I suspect she could sail again, I'd have to spend far too much time to get her able."

So said, he leans back and closes his eyes, reaching for his temple. He thinks of the Isles, of standing at the edge of the Starwood Strand and seeing the great crystalline mountains before him, gleaming towards the sky, singing with magic. He thinks of the smell of the sea, of the way the water churns and moves, like a slumbering beast shifting towards wakefulness, the steady pound of waves against land.

He thinks of, beneath, cliff faces of rock and crystal hidden beneath clear blue water, exotic coral reefs and the sun fracturing through the mountains to land in bright runes of light, shining to the darkness below.

He thinks of his fortress, hidden in one of those faces. A place where the water spills over a dome of air, the rock and crystal itself shaping the walls and spires of what he calls home. The breath of magic when one steps into that dome, the feeling of his magic binding every inch, this pocket of the sea that is Him because he'd wound himself into every single piece.

He grasps a string, and records of those thoughts, memories, experiences, slip free like pearls, gleaming between his pulling fingers and his mind. They're opaque and shining, and he breathes out when the last slips free, opening his eyes to examine the jewel-like beads in his palm. He's done this often, recording things he might one day forget, keeping them hidden away where others might not find them. These are particularly secret, but.

He reaches down, laying them, a hum of energy and Self, against Quinn's chest. "Here," he says, soft. "You can read them, surely. Unwind them as you would a ball of string, and their contents will be known to you."

I'm thinking about moving to plague and golly sometimes explaining a flight change lore wise can be a pain in the butt

"Good." Quinn stated, relieved. "You do not know how upset Judas would be if this ship was suddenly afloat in the waters. He is usually calm tempered but mess with his ship and well.." Quinn trailed off, shaking his head as he remembered the few scavengers who didn't last seconds against the furious skydancer.

The silence caused the tundra to turn his head towards the other, listening to the content breathing. It was nice to have a silence filled with normal breathing. Cronus and Judas never took a breath, unless intentional and Samael.. His labored breaths unnerved the tundra, something about how forced and laborious his breathing was frightened the warlock.

However, Myrddin seemed to be in thought, so the other stayed quiet, listening to the soft breathing contently. The sudden weight on his chest draws the tundras head downward, hands gently rubbing over the smooth beads. Smiling softly he just fiddles with them a bit, enjoying the texture. Though no sight came to him, he was sure they shined beautifully, amazed at the other's ability to pull such a wondrous thing from mere thoughts.

Cautiously he followed the others instructions, sitting himself up with a bit of a struggle. It seemed Quinn had a hard time getting back up once he had settled, seemed his body wanted to stay still. Gently he unraveled the strands, a bit wary of what was going to be done.

oooh, I know what you mean. I haven't budged flight-wise since joining, but that's part of why my first idea to keep a single "clan" was scrapped, so I wouldn't have to worry about it. hardly any of my dragons actually live in the isles, and a lot of them don't even live in sornieth.

in this case, hm. quinn doesn't particularly care for the icefields, judas hates that he feels nothing but cold so I would guess being surrounded by cold would be distressing--is the ship his "death" site? like he crashed and "died" here? that could be a good reason why. and, as someone who has a lot of breathing issues in the family, extreme cold can be very difficult to breathe in.

that and plague is about survival and disease, so a venomous creature and one who survived death would be welcome there, at the very least of the group.

alternatively, one of those who were hunting them got too close.

just some thoughts!!

It blossomed, slowly. A breath that smelled of brine, a distant roar of moving water. Myrddin's claws settle on his mane, gently carding through. "Relax," he suggests. "Do you trust me? Open your mind and let it show itself."

It's strange, the first time, the coatl knows. But, should Quinn ease into it...

He does, and the records bloom to life behind his eyes. He sees as Myrddin saw, smells as he did, hears as he heard, tastes as he tasted. The Isles, the great singing crystals. The stars, closer here than anywhere else in Sornieth.

The great seas, clear and lined with magic and froth. The fortress beneath, and how it feels to step into it. The records allow Quinn to experience them as though the memories were his, and when they unfurl, they end like a daydream being awoken from.

Myrddin's claws are still there when Quinn comes back to himself.

As a newbie I moved to ice and it was fun for a little bit, but my heart yearns for plague once more. Though Ice is nice I just feel the ragtag group would fit better in plague ya know. Also as I add permas it's hard to explain them just showing up.

Huh those are good ideas. The ship is indeed his death site, but he doesn't remember so much of how he died, but he knows that it was there. Just a feeling of 'something went wrong here and I didn't make it'. Doesn't help the skeletons of his crew are there. As for samael-- everything about the icefields just messes him up so he would be pleased to move and as long as quinn sticks with his group he would be fine. Cronus couldn't care less as long as he got food pfft.

I was thinking about that too. Like an attack on the ship caused everyone so much distress they decided it was for the best they move. Heh thanks for the help!

The touch eased his troubled mind, taking a breath he allowed himself to relax. His senses tingled, the smell making his heart ache, the sounds causing him to smile ever so slightly. New experiences blossomed before his very eyes and he couldn't help but hurt. It hurt he had never been able to experiences this before the accidents, before everything had crumbled underneath him.

The beauty that flashes before his eyes stuns him into silence, the ache in his heart easing slightly. Even without his eyes he was allowed to see the wondrous sights Myrddin had experienced. A tear slid down his cheek, then another, followed by more. Though, they smiled through the tears, beauty bringing them to tears. After the decades churned on he had become hopeless. If he could only experience sight in short flashes there was no possibility for him to truly see things.

Now he could, and it brought the hopeless man to tears. It tore through the wall, allowing it to crumble around him. There was finally a hope he could see again. As it came to a close Quinn continued to silently cry, those sights having effected him strongly in a way which he had given up on. The touch which had stayed offered more comfort to the tundra, the fit of tears getting a bit worse.