supernova goes pop. [Bre!]

[Cy]

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[Bre]

We were the kings and queens of promise . . .

Just in sight on the ledge of her eyling, the massive, lean form of Eceph could be seen, regally spread out as she slept. The day was done and she had allowed the embrace of sleep to drag her out of consciousness. The work for the day was done and she slumbered deeply. While she was aware the future would come, that awareness was dim to her. Insomnia was not something a simourv often had contend with. She used her forethought only to know that she needed to sleep in order to awake, fully rested, in time for her watch in the morning. Part of her mind, an unconscious part, still fully in use even in sleep, knew that her rider was absent from her bed, but that didn't keep her from sleep. When she had laid down to rest, she had known that her rider would be elsewhere.

For once, Ro'za was without the company of her great gray. Normally, they lived together, even in sleep. When they were awake, their thoughts were always touching. It was impossible to escape. Without that constant voice, dim in the back of her mind, it was so quiet. It was so lonely. After three years, three long years, it was lonely to have to acknowledge that Eceph was a little less there for even those few hours. Yet, in truth, she was no more alone than she could ever be then. She was always with company, always with Eceph. It was a consolation that few could understand. Only twenty-four riders graced the skies of Pohono. Actually, only twenty-four riders graced the depths of the universe. It was perfect, being bonded to a simourv. Utterly perfect. The universe was an unfair place but she found some small hope in being a rider.

The faintest of smiles tugged at the curves of Ro'za's thin lips. It softened them slightly, helping to smooth the sharp features of her face. She almost looked feminine, her amber eyes less feral and demanding and more delicate for the time being. With her hands tucked into the pockets of her loose capris, fitting of the fair spring weather, she wandered the gardens. They were her favorite place in their own way. They were the only place that looked so green in the eyrie. Everything else look alive, but not in the same way. So untouched by strife and blood, the gardens were peaceful. Though, knowing the impartiality of flowers and turnips, she couldn't doubt that all of the plants, so green and vibrant, would have flourished just fine on blood too. The calm failed to shake the morbid honesty of the rider's being. Peace wasn't lasting, the calm before a storm.

Silently, the Phoenix regarded the Zekiel from a half a dozen yards away. He was older then her; she could guess his age by the cut of his jaw and the angles of his skin and body. However, she didn't much care. He didn't outrank her. Not a single soul in all of Pohono outranked her. To her, of course, rank meant little, but she did have her pride. Most of her honor had long ago fled, but she still had her pride, lingering in the fiery depths of her mind. The boy in front of her was just a boy, a young man, if she was feeling more technical, a very hardworking young man. Idly, she plucked a single frond of Pohonian grass from the edge of the path where she stood, watching. It was rather more blue than green, but she knew it to be good and sweet. Any child with any proper education knew what was and wasn't poison. She chewed absently on the base.

"It's the carrot patch across from the pond that really needs to be weeded;" Ro'za said, finally feeling the urge to speak. The dark light of sarcasm danced in her eyes, thick and pure, the essence of her being. The same sarcasm danced across her lips, pulling them into a faint smirk and coloring her tone. He was taller than her, but, again, she didn't care. There was a cool, uncaring control about her, carried in the way that she lazily leaned her weight on just one of her legs. Absently, she continued to gnaw on the end of the grass she had plucked. She didn't bother to savor the sweetness. Skinny lass as she was, she liked her meat and beans. Candies held little place in her heart. The grass was just convenient, just like the boy in front of her. A little conversation never hurt anyone. Eceph would approve of her finding company.

. . . we were the victims of ourselves.

[Cy]

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[Bre]

Maybe the children of a lesser god . . .

Ro'za frowned a thoughtful, vague frown when the boy weeding the garden didn't answer her. She had more manners than that, enough manners to answer when someone spoke to her. While Ro'za was happy to have fun, she didn't take well to disrespect. It didn't even matter that she was the Phoenix. Ignoring her position, she deserved respect. With her position, it only made more sense. She knew that he had seen her. He had looked right at her and then looked at her. Didn't he know who she was? Feeling irritable all of a sudden, she stalked forward, approaching the working candidate on quiet, little feet. Dainty footed and long toed, she was quite good at moving silently when she wanted and it wasn't any fun if he knew exactly where she was going. Eceph was asleep. There was no one around who could save him from her prickly, less than fuzzy demeanor. Though he almost definitely didn't even know it, he was completely at her mercy.

"Hey, over here, buddy." Reaching over, Ro'za tapped Zekiel on the shoulder to catch his attention. She wouldn't have minded being ignore, except that his less than friendly behavior towards her had sparked her estimable interest. She liked to have people look at her when she was talking. Respect. It was all about respect. There was something predatory in her sharp features and small, lean body. She had a way of looking boyish, but there was snarling quality to her expression that more than helped to combat that look. Though she leaned over him in a disapproving manner, she didn't keep her hand on him any longer than was necessary. She hated touching strangers, especially boys. While most of her mind was fairly developed, she still retained a immaturity that she didn't often share with others. Moving casually, she took a step back, giving him a little space. She wanted to stay out of range of his longer reach. Just in case, of course.

"The carrot patch needs weeding." That time around, it was an order. Her eyes, brownish hazel, regarded him evenly, waiting for him to argue. Part of her was looking for a fight, but another part of her expected him to concede to her perfectly logical point and firm manner. She'd always had a demeanor that was good for commanding, bound into her survivalist mindset, but she'd learned to give orders well over the last few years. No one point in being everyone's friend. Motions still casual, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, fairly flat but still existent. She leaned her weight back on one heel. The frond of grass she had been chewing was long gone, lost somewhere along the edge of the garden path. Her patience wore thing, but she was content to wait. She liked to see situations through. While she wasn't above running when it was smart, she also wasn't much of a coward. Plenty of unadulterated courage and bravery beat in her breast.

. . . between heaven and hell, heaven and hell.

[Cy]

[/i] was crowding in on him because of it. Stupid wench.

With his jaw subtly tightened, his eyes were the first thing to move, drifting off of his work to move to the lower corner of his vision in her general direction. Then his head was moving, turning to the side, and then his body was shifting around before his chin could come into contact with his shoulder. It was a smooth chain reaction of motion, and it ended with his eyes finally lifting up to land upon her face once more. As if he'd somehow forgotten the details of her features in the short moment that had passed since he'd looked away from her the first time, he absorbed them again as if he'd never seen her before. As if it were a truly ridiculous idea that the same girl from before could still be bothering him. The sharp, cold increments of her face were twisted in disapproval of her own sort, her body language screaming authority and demand.

She was speaking again, reminding him of the carrot patch and its need to be tended to. It was a summary of what she'd said before, but the tone was different. The tone was firm and matter of fact, offering little room for argument and yet somehow begging for it in the same breath. His blue eyes wandered away from her, off to a random stretch of space to the left, as if on the way to look to said carrot patch, but they snapped back to her before ever reaching such a mark. "Then go weed it," he finally spoke, condescending and gruff. His voice was low and brusque, out of use, and the statement was laid out flat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And with that out there, he made to dismiss her once again, turning back around to return to his weeding on this patch.[/ul]

[ congrats, you get Zeke's very first words! XD ][/size]

[Bre]

Hopeless and taken, we stole our new lives . . .

"It speaks!" Ro'za scoffed. Her expression was actually far more dangerous than her voice. While her voice expressed genuine amusement, her face twisted fiercely, expressing darker thoughts and opinions. The condescending quality of his rough voice only made her all the more temperamental. He wasn't in control of the situation. She was. The sooner he learned that, the better it would be for him. Even if he managed to gain the upper hand, which seemed unlikely in his dispassionate state, she would cull him in the end for his insolence. She wasn't one to hold grudges when it really came down to it. She preferred to keep friends, even if she didn't treat her friends the best at times. Debts were to be paid on the spot or forgotten. She had far more important things to do with her time than bullying candidates. She was already wasting time with what she was doing.

Grabbing the shoulders of his shirt, Ro'za yanked him to his feet in own decisive motion, showing some experience with the action. She hauled him back, yanking him away from his apparently precious weeds. Perhaps kindly, she let him go once she had him on his own feet. However, she did tug fiercely on his sleeve to gather his attention. He did not seem to like looking at her, but she refused to have him look away from her. If he wanted to challenge her, he could at least have the dignity to look her in the eye, not simply stare dully at her face and body when he chose. She was not to be toyed with, not by anyone and certainly not by some foolish man. He had crossed a line and her patience was worn.

"I believe I asked you to weed it;" Ro'za growled at him. She gave him an almost playful shove. Though he was older than her, she still viewed him as just another hapless kid. She wasn't above getting physical with him. How else was he going to learn? The world wasn't made of sunshine and sugar. It was a rough and tumble place that taught lessons with scars. She had enough of them on her arms to prove that. While candidate and brats were not generally her responsibility when she could avoid it, she was the Phoenix and it was her job to make sure that everyone under her knew how to behave. She probably should have known how to behave too, but she felt no motivation to simply let the arrogant braggart in front of her go. Shoulders square, body fluid, she regarded him like a cat preparing for a fight, eyes sharp and golden brown-green in the twilight light of the canyon.

. . . through blood and pain in defense of our dreams.

[Cy]

[/b] he returned. There'd been no questions, no suggestions. There'd not even been a clear-cut command. There'd been a firm observation that the carrot patch needed to be tended to, and he was enough of a cur to be technical about the issue. His own humour.[/size][/ul]

[Bre]

Into the night, desperate and broken . . .

Ro'za is never above violence. She is not anyone's high and mighty leader. Thus what she did next was almost expectable. Not quite, but almost. Fingers curling into fists, she drew one hand back in a lightning fast motion. Then she socked him square across the jaw in one practice motion. No punch is ever the same, but the same principles go into it. Use the forward knuckles. Drive it home. Curve it. He may have been taller than her, but she had plenty of reach and quite possibly more experience than him despite his greater age. The warrior Phoenix of the Spiderlands, she had fought koxi who were most definitely scarier than he was but not nearly as scary as her. Flexing her fingers once she followed through, her aim good though perhaps not perfect or even true, she stepped back nimbly, more than ready to accept repercussions from her actions.

However, Eceph had awakened and she came winging down over the gardens with ease, having been informed of the disturbance through her rider's thoughts. She landed nimbly behind the young woman who was hers, nudging Zekiel gingerly out of the way with her beak as she alighted. No need for the pair of them to start a brawl. You shouldn't have hit him; she chided Ro'za, settling her wings against her back. She towered over both of them, an intimidating beast. However, the Phoenix refused to look ashamed of her actions. Someone had to teach the disrespectful boy some manners and she hadn't had anything better to do, aside from the massive amount of paperwork awaiting her at her desk. A stickler with a stubborn streak would go nowhere in life. She'd only hit him once. If anyone had a problem with it, she really didn't give a shit.

"I can hit who I want to hit, Eceph;" Ro'za informed the gray, rubbing her thumb against her chin as she glanced at Zekiel, just a tinge remorseful of her actions though she wasn't acting or even showing it at all. Grabbing a fistful of feathers and leaping lightly up onto the huge simourv's toes, she clambered onto her beast's back so she could peer down at Zekiel from a greater height. If hitting him wouldn't teach him a lesson, she had other ways. Ones which would greatly amuse her though she did hate to sound pompous for all her grandeur. "My name is Ro'za. Perhaps you're heard of me. I'm the Phoenix and this is my simourv, Eceph." Sarcasm definitely worked for her and a lopsided smile lit up her face with dark amusement. He hadn't recognized her and he had to learn at some point. She was one of the most powerful people in the land.

"Go weed the carrot patch;" the Phoenix told him once again, twisted grin still on her face. Eceph had stopped bothering to try to chide her and instead hurriedly launched herself into the air, carrying her rider away from trouble. The situation had been rectified. She didn't like people disrespecting the girl that she had chosen anyway. Feeling the wind playing through her hair as Eceph rose up and up, Ro'za relaxed, reclining comfortably in the gray's warm feathers. Adrenaline was pounding in her veins, but that only made her calm. The situation had been rewarding in its own way to her. A little action and excitement and stupidity never hurt anyone too bad, unless said things were done in that exact order around a koxi. Stupidity and the giant lizards generally didn't mix. Ro'za hummed to herself when Eceph came to land on their eyling's ledge.

. . . the sound of a fight, father has spoken.

[Cy]

[/i]...

Whatever he may have thought, any plans of action that may have been in the process of forming, all were brought to an abrupt and effective halt with the grand presence of the gray that landed behind the girl, his narrowed gaze opening wider upon her. She reached out to nudge him with her great beak, the gesture gentle and well-meaning, but he still recoiled from him. His hand moved from his face so his arm could jerk back and he could step away as she directed, the movement not a daring strike against the simourv as it had been for the girl when she'd dared to grab him, but now merely an effort to retreat from the contact. It wasn't out of acknowledged fear or even the lingering upset that the girl had caused, but instinct alone.

His stance was suddenly withdrawn, moreso than before. Wary, suspicious, and shut down. He watched the girl pull herself astride the large beast as if she belonged there, and apparently she did as she introduced herself in that irritatingly haughty manner that he perceived from her. His eyes narrowed again, failing to respond or rise to it. No respect or reverence suddenly gushed into his features upon the realization that she was more than just some cocky kid with a chip on her shoulder. No, now she was a cocky kid with a chip on her shoulder and the luck to have a simourv at her side. And a ridiculous order on her sharp tongue, grating against his nerve.

He was quiet through it all, watching and listening, and then she was gone. The beast shoved off the ground, took to the air, and took the girl with her. A number of moments passed before he allowed himself to release his breath, to relax his shoulders down bit by bit, and he turned his head back to take in the work he'd accomplished so far. Work done on a patch that wasn't the carrot patch. He shifted his lower jaw to the side, his eyes wincing at the throb of the swelling knot that had been made. His gaze drifted off to the direction of the carrot patch, and he still had little idea of what to do and how to respond.

Of course, when he did decide on an action, it was less than favourable as he moved over to kick all of the weeds he'd already pulled back into the patch, along the side of the path, and then turned to leave the gardens altogether. The carrot patch remained in need of a good weeding.[/ul]

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