[O] bakemono - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: [O] bakemono (/showthread.php?tid=21497) |
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bakemono - Imonada - 11-18-2015
@Tembovu @Anyone else is fine, too =) Got an OK from Tem to invoke a bit of fluid time for the news! RE: bakemono - Tembovu - 11-18-2015 Tembovu the Elephant
A giant stood among the swirling mists that lingered in the trees, protected by the morning’s dampness and moon’s magic. The heat of noon did nothing to the thick soup that pervaded the numerous trunks, and the Elephant King silently watched the eddies and swells of the fog around him. He had come to appreciate the unique beauty of the Edge’s mist— nearly enjoying even the cool wetness that accompanied it. The moist air decorated his pale buckskin coat with a film of dew that glittered in the afternoon’s sun, a glimmering statue surveying the boundaries of the Edge. Ephemerally he drifted in and out of view with the ever-shifting mist. Azure gaze casts skyward once, watching crows squawk their irritation at an overzealous hawk. Thick, grey lips press in a small, amused smile. Raptors were forever trying to raid nests for meals, never checking if the parents are nearby. They rarely learn. Could equines? His question was answered as his eyes tracked slowly back to earth, catching a black shadow molding itself along a chunk of glass (that he must have missed while cleaning as Glazier— it was a never-ending job). The equine form shifted into amorphous shapes as it moved along the broken glass, until finally appearing at an opening in the failed wall. He studied her, unmoving from his statuesque stance, perked cream ears twitching at her shrill whinny. A slight mare of normal build, her coat was a deep and light-eating ebony. She was a flighted equine, yet her left wing fell awkwardly from her shoulder. Thick nostrils flare— she did not smell of the Edge and he had not seen her here before. He had become comfortable in knowing all those who now lived in the Edge— his herd. Gently shaking his head at such a thought (never would he imagined to have leadership over such a thing), a shiver runs through his thick hide to dislodge the majority dew droplets. A glistening spray surrounds his massive body for a moment before his long, rolling strides being to take his heavy form towards the inquiring mare. Large hooves and long legs make short time of the distance, and he is quickly standing in front of the shadowed mare. “Who is it you are calling for, black-wings?” Low and rumbling, the slightest undertones of authority color the congenialness to his question as his blue eyes questioningly meet her dark ones. RE: bakemono - Imonada - 11-30-2015
@Tembovu RE: bakemono - Tembovu - 12-03-2015 Tembovu the Elephant
His ears perked further forward as the interesting accent floated into their thick funnels. It wasn’t one he had heard before— and he quite liked the ebb and flow of syllables chirping from the ebony mare’s mouth. The barest of smiles tilted up the corners of his thick mouth and crinkled the edges of his deep eyes. Though, once over the initial, pleasant surprise of her accent, the substance of her words permeated his mind. The cogs of an old, rusty machine that is the diplomatic decision-maker in his brain began to turn. The leads of the Falls sent a liaison to meet the new Edge’s King? And to offer an alliance? Surely that is something that must be discussed between leads directly, not via messengers. Though, is that what was truly being offered, here? And, who was he to judge when he had done naught to visit the other leads in their lands. Thoughts swirl through his mind as he watches the slight bow of the jet-black, regally built pegasus. A slight dip of his muzzle was given in recognition of her respect, as he studied her a few moments longer, cobalt eyes unusually impassive in his calm, black-marked face. Vaguely his mind appreciated the flare of golden light on her lustrous coat, and the blue-black sheen on her impressive feathers. The Falls had sent a lovely messenger, regardless if it was to slight the Edge or form an alliance. Finally his low voice rumbled once again as he took a step back from the border, large body inviting the mare to cross into his herdlands, “Well met, Imonada. I am Tembovu, the Edge’s new King,” a grin crosses his face, “So it seems you've found who you seek.” He paused, feeling the urge to physically move as his thoughts mulled in his head. “Walk with me,” though said as an offer, there was little option to refuse as his long strides started to carry his heavy body along the border that Imonada had traced while on the other side of the broken glass. He walked only a short distance, before slowing, “I welcome goodwill with the Hidden Falls, though I should like to personally meet the leads. And I value a trustworthy liaison between the two herds,” he paused, studying the smaller, black mare once again, “Tell me, is there anything Archibald or Kaj wish to relay to the Edge?” He halted, still along the Edge’s border, waiting for his answer. RE: bakemono - Imonada - 12-04-2015 His mouth creasing back into a smile that sparkles in his pale, piercing blue eyes --she thinks of the silver minnows that glitter along the edges of the Hidden Falls' many crystal pools-- has her fighting to tame her own grin in involuntary response; the battle ends tied and her expression settles on something akin to shy, subdued delight. She openly studies his face as he considers her words, noting his broad cheeks, strong jaw, and the striking shades painted across the regal slant of his superior bone structure; sable-black bands across silvery fawn, their pairing most divine. The morbid side of her steals a moment to wonder at his horn, too; he could skewer someone with that thing. One well placed jab and it would be game over, especially backed by the force he undoubtedly possessed.
Naturally, she picks up on his lingering regard of her; not so much different than any other memorizing her features upon introduction, but the budding attraction she feels toward him turns her into an exposed nerve under his gaze. The smooth rumble in his deep voice makes her pulse quicken, but the next words settle very greatly upon her, sinking in heavy. She stills. Of all the damned things, she didn't expect him to actually be the first to greet her, but once the shock fades away she is overjoyed; a surge only minimally tainted by a slight intimidated. "I am honored to meet you, Your Majesty." Her head nods low again, innately graceful. She quietly concedes to his request, forcing a small trot to her own steps to reach him; when she does, she keeps toward his flank. She catches his scent finally, finding it warm and pacifying, spiced and heady. Hanging back, with little instinct in her to lead, she watches his movements and body language with a raven's naked curiosity. She knew better than to bring herself to even keel with him, unless he invited it. Some rulers were congenial with others, treating them equally. Still, just as many demanded the utmost respect to station. Given his particular title, she prefers to stay cautious and attentive. And deferent enough to pay him his dues while clearly keeping her own herd, and her submission to it, her cor aut mors. Of course she considers lying, exploring those consequences in her head and weighing their worth after he questions her. But, manipulating events for one's ideal version of the world need not always be filled with lies; not only was her moral compass still relatively intact, a poorly laid web of deceit could ensnare her far more easily than any of her enemies. "They didn't send me," she says bluntly, choosing not to treat it as a potential regret. "I took my own initiative. I don't have the authority to offer an alliance, sair, but tis no reason not to begin friendly talks. As intelligence, not only is it my job to find these opportunities, but I must create them, as well. What good am I if my wings are clipped, so to speak?" A smirk, self-depreciating in its humor, curls her lips for a moment. "I am confident, however, that they would be very pleased to hear of your desire to meet them. I can relay this, of course, Your Highness." Oh but he was both beautiful and handsome, observant and sharp insofar as she could ascertain of him yet, his species to hers just exotic enough to tempt, older, obviously strong and wonderfully built, and --knowing no shame-- a king! Once, many nights ago, in the spring, when she had fallen ill with the Green Labyrinth Lung, she had met another stallion whose presence affected her so. Thoughts of him were not so perfectly recalled as normal, with the memory made under the fog of plague. And yet a feeling remembered flashes through her, vague, but compelling enough to give her pause. RE: bakemono - Tembovu - 12-09-2015 Tembovu the Elephant
A cream ear tilted sideways in unease as she addressed him with ‘Your Majesty.’ The stuffiness and the formality of her regal neck bowing so deeply did not sit well with him. Though he brushed it aside during their short walk devoted to his mulling thoughts. His thick hide vaguely felt the brushes of her intent gaze while his blue eyes just barely noticed that she walked at his flank instead beside him. Though after he stopped, after she spoke of taking her own initiative, and after she addressed him with ‘Your Highness,’ the subtle deferences to his rank leapt to his attention, as did her bluntly honest words. He studied her closely, then, this slender black mare of magnificent wings and melodious accent. His own mouth smiled sightly as he watched her slender black lips smirk with self-deprecating humor. Dark blue eyes left her mouth, searching for her dark and deferent gaze, “You may call me Tembovu. ” The low rumble faded in the small distance between the Elephant and the raven, as his study of the woman continued and his great head tilted ever so slightly. “Your honesty is refreshing, Imonada. I appreciate it,” his bass sounded her name carefully, “And it would be a shame to see those elegant wings clipped," eyes flickered to the raven wings in question, "So, please, do relay my wish of good will to your rulers at the Falls.” He fell quiet for a moment, an ear swiveled to catch the futile cries of the aforementioned, thwarted hawk. There was little else to say, and yet… “Intelligence?” his low voice questioned. He wanted to ask more— to know more of what made the mare beneath those feminine, yet strong onyx features. “Is there a reason you chose such a path, Imonada?” again, his low rumble meticulously sounded her name, for he quite like the feel of it on his tongue. The King knew their business had ended. The spy had her information, the new King had given his message. But, still, he asked. RE: bakemono - Imonada - 12-26-2015
RE: bakemono - Tembovu - 01-04-2016 Tembovu the Elephant
Ears twitched in response to her foreign words and gentle sounding of his name— mirror the twitching of his generous manhood. Subtly, he shifted, willing and commanding his urges to heel (or at least attempting to). He lost her dark and lovely eyes as they look away— in shyness? A coy act? He was unsure. But he gladly regained the dark gaze and her enchanting accent as she responds to his question— though the brief silence is not missed by the King. Perhaps he had overplayed his hand, perhaps it wasn’t ‘Kingly’ to personally inquire after a spy… He shrugged inwardly, for he had wanted to know more of this captivating creature. At the mention of her wing, his eyes turn to the listing left appendage. His muzzle quivers once, wishing to feel the old injury, stroke the silken black feathers, perhaps even knead away any spasms surrounding the offset bones— he blinked rapidly once, twice, thrice. That’s enough of those thoughts, Elephant. She continued to speak, his mind grappled and fumbled to hear and register her words. But suddenly she is angling towards him, closer than before. He just barely caught himself, stopping his thick columns of legs from moving backwards and away from this small, yet powerfully bewitching, winged mare. He had started in control of this conversation— what had happened? That’s what he got for asking further questions of the raven. “I could never meet you again in my lifetime, but now that I have seen your face, I will always remember it exactly as I see it.” His preoccupied mind had caught this phrase. “Remember things exactly? A useful skill, though I hope we do meet again,” thick lips are moving before consulting with his distracted brain. And his mind is shouting at him— she had asked a question! He needed to reply, what had it been…? Ah, why was he king? Features, which he wasn’t certain how expressive or impassive they had remained in his moments of internal struggle, wipe entirely clear. He supposed tit-for-tat was fair, but this was a question weighted with the blood of a child. Quickly and easily, it weighed and focused his head, lips pressing together slightly as he considered his answer. Much of it was his spotted friend’s personal woes to tell, not his place. “I have never aspired to power or monarchy,” he quietly compromises to give a but of personal information, “but when Mauja stepped down as King, I was there to be appointed.” Silence fell after his somber words, their breaths creating quiet eddies in the mist. His gaze, now on her face, glances to the a break in the shattered wall behind her, “The pleasure was mine, Imonada. Safe travels back to the Falls.” And with that, the King quietly dismisses the raven. @Imonada I really like them threading together ;-; can we do it again? :D |