Atop a stony plateau overlooking the lands of central Idalos, and growing wealthy from the gem stones pulled from the rocky soil, Etzos is a bastion of independence; firm in its belief that man should rule Idalos, not be servants of the vain Immortals who nearly destroyed it. But can the many factions set aside their conflicting agendas and see this through?
- Approved Character
- Posts: 789
- Joined: Wed Aug 10, 2016 5:43 pm
- Race: Mixed Race
- Profession: The Best Hero
- Renown: +460
- Character Sheet
- Prophets' Notes
- Plot Notes
- Player Review
- Personal Journal
Cylus 1st, 718
The screech that she gave was nothing short of blood-curdling and she flung her body off the cliff was a form of vehemence that was almost murderous. Her wings spread and with violent pumps, she forced her body to stay aloft. Her screams became no quieter as her wing beats used every amount of strength she had in her body. The only thing that kept her from shooting upwards was the steely armor that coated her feathers and glinted in the light of a nearby torch that she’d carelessly tied to a tree.
This was hell, this was completely and truly a form of torture. As a child, she’d used weights to build up strength into her wings. It had been Icarus’ idea to tie rocks to her legs and force her to flap until her very wings gave out. It took a lot of hard work, but eventually, she managed to get off the ground and from there the slope was a slippery ride to soaring. She considered herself to be better on her wings than most now, and a lot of it was thanks to Icarus. But her wings were crafted for the express purpose of speed and distance. At the end of the day, her wings were the same wings that occasionally would spasm as a child with muscles she had trouble controlling. Again, Icarus had been the reason she’d overcome that burden. He taught her how to calm down and know her own wings, he taught her every muscle and then he taught her how to meditate, from there they practiced moving every single muscle one at a time. It took her arcs to build up proper wing control and it took the encouragement of Icarus to do it.
Now, without Icarus, she wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to do this. What she was trying to do was practice flying with the armor on. It seemed simple enough. Right? Wrong! The half-breed upon first getting the armor had been able to walk about with it, the was no problem what so ever. By flying, that’s where the real difficulty started to kick in. She could barely pump her wings back in Ashan, but the woman was nothing if not viciously determined. “Fek you!” She screeched at no one in particular. She didn’t think there was an immortal devoted to physic strength. Not even a mortal born for that matter. At least, not one to her knowledge, if there was she’d be cursing whoever it was. But as the situation stood, she was just screaming at the air. “Fek you, fek you, fek you,” she grunted with each beat of her wings. The words came out in venomous huffs and growls of determination as she forced all of her strength into her wings.
Her arms practically hung limp as she beat her wings faster and faster, trying to gain altitude of some kind. The memories rushed back to her, the encouragement of her father, the gift of determination from Icarus, the burning desire to spite Ivan. Her breath was coming out in short pants and where her back connect to her wings practically burned, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have time to care, she couldn’t care. As her wing beats turned more frantic she finally managed to hover upwards. It wasn’t even an inch, but her eyes widened and with a quick fling of her body she slammed herself down onto the cliff face.
She lied there, panting, as she looked up into the darkness. Even with the suns eclipsed in total darkness, the stars glinted in the distance. Like little tiny drops of light, light that she didn’t completely despise with every fiber of her being. Faldrum’s influence could fek off for 30 days during Cylus, it was honestly the only good things. But there was no way possible to blot out Xuir. She sighed heavily as she rested, the feeling slowly coming back into her wings. It had been a long couple seasons but she was starting to make progress.
Determination, it was the root of everything the half-breed did. She was stubborn and perhaps a little bitter in some regards, but she’d moved farther in her life than some had. A heavy sigh fell from her throat as her wings began to burn. They had lost feeling after enough wing beats, but now they flared with a distinct weariness. It was almost funny. She could fly for miles and trials on the breast of the wind without even losing breath, she could sleep on its shoulder while it carried her wherever she needed to be. But the moment she attached the steel to her wings she was practically earthbound in her weakness and shame.
The steel weighed heavily on not just her wings, but her heart. There were trials when she’d been able to take flight for a couple minutes, haling herself a could feel into the air. But those were short and far between compared to how many times she ended up struggling and flapping uselessly against the downward force of gravity. “Fek you,” she growled one more time under her breath, her voice deep and husky as she practically glared holes into the sky. It was hard to fight the laws of the universe. But it wasn’t impossible! Her existence should have been enough to prove it. After all, it was a law that the great and powerful avriel didn’t dirty their blood with the lesser races. The thought alone let a bitter laugh leave her throat as the half-breed struggled to sit up. She flared her wings, keeping them stretched outwards.
It was a good method, just keeping her wings spread out without flapping. It allowed her muscles to struggle under the weight of the metal and get used to the feel. She tried to do that every time before she took it. As a kind of warm-up, perhaps? She wasn’t completely sure… She breathed deeply in and then released the breath. Her eyes hardened slightly as a new wave of determination settled into her weary body. It still hurt and for the life of her she didn’t want to keep trying, but a fire scorched her belly. “Perhaps I could use Second Wind to get in some extra practice without feeling like I’m going to try,” she joked to herself bitterly, tilting her head downwards. She stretched her wings a little farther and grunted quietly. Her wings ached with a deep resounding kind of pain.
“Block it out, just block it out,” she muttered as she pulled her wings back in and then spread them out once more. The movement did well to force a little bit of the pain out. She tried to even out her breathing and just focus on it, it was easier to block out the pain the more she focused on steadying her breathing. The sensation slipped from her mind as she slowly repeated the motion over and over, fluid and practiced. After spreading her wings enough times she stood up and tilted her wings. With the powerful pump she once again forced herself a couple inches into the air. And then another, and another. Before she knew it, she was feet into the air and climbing, trying to beat the record she had set for herself.
The pain came back full force, burning at the joins of her wings, forcing water into her eyes. She simply blinked it away and continued to breathe, focusing on it and it alone. The tears slipped out in a steady stream as she got to her maximum height with the wing armor on. It seemed as though no matter how hard she beat her wings she couldn’t climb any higher with the weight of the steel resting on her body. But she was determined and resistant and one hell of a stubborn bitch of a flapper, and anyone in Etzos could support that claim! With a scream she beat her wings harder, trying to beat them at the same pace as without the armor. She had found that she beat her wings slower with the armor on, leading to her being less speedy and not being able to climb as high. But if she needed to she’d force herself to thrust just as speedy.
Her breath came out in sharp puffs as she felt her body lurch a little higher. Just a little higher and a little more higher and just a little higher. The armor felt like stones which tore on her body and tried to bring it to the earth, but she’d felt this weight before, she’d practiced with this kind of weight before. Rocks and stones and boulders that she dragged into the air with her all, so she could drag her own weight into the sky. And just like Icarus told her she would, she did it. She could manage because this was her blessing, her right, immortals be damned. She didn’t care if her wings were a blessing from Delroth or what, they belonged to her now and they were her strength.
She managed to get a couple more feet on her max height, pulling herself closer to her ultimate goal. Content with the progress she made her wing beats slowed, gently allowing her body to sink to the earth. “Tomorrow, I’ll reach the moon,” she told herself like she did every time she practiced. It was her promise.
word count: 1615
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
Mod bombs are welcomed and encouraged!
- Prophet of Old
- Posts: 330
- Joined: Thu Dec 07, 2017 11:36 pm
- Race: Prophet
- Renown: 0
- Plot Notes
Medal count: 1
Night's dedication is always admirable, whether it's to personal improvement or to the betterment of others. This sort of exhausting, difficult mind over matter solo was a good example of just how much suffering Night is willing to endure.
If you've got a question or concern or if I've missed anything, don't hesitate to PM me!
Now that your review is complete,
don’t forget go back to your review post here and drop this image in!
Code: Select all
[style3=width:200px; margin:0px auto; padding:3px 5px; text-weight:bold; font-size:1em; line-height:1em; color:#EFEFEF;][googlefont=Almendra SC][align=left]Reviewed By[img]http://standingtrials.com/gallery/image.php?album_id=500&image_id=13200[/img][/align][align=right]Muse[/align][/googlefont][/style3]
word count: 239