HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun
A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Printable Version

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A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Raistlyn - 03-14-2016

He is being hunted.

Finally, he thinks, relieved.   

After nearly a day and night of stalking him through the swampy marsh, wading through pools brimming with shadow, decay, and even the occasional nondescript corpse, the water hag has grown bolder and less cautious.   She has decided him easy prey and will make her move soon; perhaps when the moon is obscured behind the dark clouds drifting overhead, or when the thick layer of fog fully envelopes the marsh.  

Yes, then.  He will be ready for her.

Over the years, he has frequented these Isles on various monster contracts.  Despite the familiarity they hold, it remains a hostile, dangerous place--the Isles constantly shift in the everlasting mist, a death-maze, and the monsters here are especially numerous.  The water and jungle creatures are drawn to the abandoned burial grounds in the depths of the islands, haunting the crumbling ruins and headstones marking the remains of the fallen; some are mass graves, from battles long ago and others are trenches dug for those taken by the various illnesses that plague the Rift relentlessly.  Hunting monsters was all very well (that was his line of work, after all, his career) but this latest contract was not for drowners or water hags; all of which are plentiful in the tangled, treacherous Isles. 

Instead, he is hunting a demigodess.  
Or so they say.

To be honest, he isn't entirely sure himself what manner of creature she truly is, or why he, a simple monster hunter, has been contracted to capture the girl, because in reality, that is all he saw when he first encountered her that stormy day on the mountain summit--a girl-child (and a rather spoiled one at that) dressed as a sacrificial bride.   He refused the contract initially, stating the obvious: he is a hunter of monsters, not an assassin, nor a mercenary. He remained neutral in the wars and politics between kings; he was not a player or a pawn in the game of the gods.

But even Raistlyn of the Rift cannot avoid Destiny.
Despite his best efforts, he has been tangled in the web of Fate.

Dawn is not far off; he can see ribbons of light unfurling through the haze.  He braces himself for the water hag's attack, preparing to throw either throw a magic sign her way, or meet her head-on in a physical attack. From the sound of her heavy movements, she is impressively large and quite ancient, perhaps the biggest he will ever fight.  It's a shame he won't have the time to bring her head as a trophy back to the Wood to receive a reward. But the attack never comes.  Instead, the hag emits a screech of hysteria and rage and retreats into the watery depths, disappearing into the mist.  Silence.  

And then a green bridge of light - an otherworldly being, and... a portal.

How he loathed portals.

But he desperately needed answers, needed to find her.  They had been separated by a portal--this was his best chance at locating her again. Gritting his teeth, he stepped through the shadows of the Rift and into the light of Helovia.  

That was many moons ago.

He wanders in the cold, a ghost with pale hair and pale scars and indigo eyes.  He continues the hunt because that is all he has ever known.  He thinks of the priestess left behind in the Rift and wonders if she will miss him. Is she even still alive? How could she be after the destruction and chaos he brought down upon the Wood? Interrupting that sacred ceremony had unleashed a monster, a merciless god and he had doomed them all. Raistlyn, whose sole purpose was to protect and defend, had broken his own code.  In his heart, somehow he knows she is not alive.  Raven hair and stormy violet eyes; the sweet scent of lilacs.  Despite what folk often think about his mutant kind lacking all emotion and feeling, the thought of her death pains him considerably and leaves him with a lingering ache in his chest.  He desperately longs for her touch, or even the sound of her laughter.  But it is only the sigh of wind murmuring through the trees and the cry of a faraway wolf that greets him.  


It is a fair, magical land, void of the chaos and darkness and disease of the Rift.  It’s quite unlike anything he’s ever known and he feels ill at ease here in the wane evening light of the silent Threshold, even though he knows there is nothing lurking in the shadows, no monster hunting him.  Not this time. It’s the peaceful serenity of Helovia dusk that leaves him longing for home.  He belongs in the Rift, amid the fell creatures and demons and monsters of the dark.  

After all, he is one himself.  

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Rikyn - 03-14-2016

Not the five feet of water to your chin

Destiny is fun.

It pulls you places, again and again, like I was lured away in my childhood, a nobody off to find his path in the great big world. It drags you across the surface of the realms and leads you precisely where you are supposed to be. It is the same as Faith, as the belief that you will always be and always have that which is meant for you.

I struggle with these concepts, like all who are young. I swim against the current, and am blind to the truth that the current owns us, even though I’ve been told these things more than once, standing in the tall, cool cavern of the ancient mountain, gazing at the reflections of those long dead in the surface of that strange, bottomless pool.

But Fate, Destiny, Faith…

They take me where they will, regardless.

I think I’m just continuing in my adventures, the life of a wild boy who answers to no one but himself. I go where I want, taking what I please, and each time I rest, I rest in a new place, awakening to new things. Sure, the lack of healers out here kind of sucks, my scars gathering one after the other without Lena and her songs, or Enna’s gentle touch, but no man is worthy of such a title if he doesn’t boast some sort of decoration for his efforts. Besides, I think they look kind of cool – it’s mostly the itchy part I can’t stand, and the fact that one of the shuriken wounds Elsa gave me is particularly… sticky.

The tall, behemoth pines are never barren, this wood, as well as the Dark Forest, being one of the few in Helovia (aside from those of my youth) that maintains some semblance of cool, serene shadow so common throughout Tallsun. It’s also a place I’ve gotten used to running into others, and so they both pair wonderfully for my set task this season – to not get caught by bitchy doves in the Moon’s wood the next time I come.

There is no wonder she caught me, now that I’m not playing at thief and actually trying to be one, my ears listening for my own movements in the brush and across the powder laced earth. I carelessly place my feet, I carelessly pass branches…

Who is that?

I stop quite suddenly, ears lifting and golden eyes searching through the dim light to find an equally abysmally toned hellion (what’s up gargantuan?) lingering not very far. Further inspection reveals the dark line of what seems to be a horn, and, not having had the company of one of my own kind in a long while, I decide to approach him.

"Hey," I say within earshot, taking in the peculiar arrangement of marks along his coat, figuring by the lines of his face that he’s quite a bit older than I am, but not really old, either (and is thereby good enough a companion for the evening, if you ask me), "you new around here?"

I stop some distance from him, something about the way he’s so quietly standing there leaving me with the impression that he may not be all rainbows like a lot of the ninnies you can run into out here in this forest. While not really intimidated by him, I certainly am not up to a fight, either, still wearing so many marks from my... mishap in the Edge.

[ OOC: I hope you don't mind? :3 ]

but the inch above the tip of your nose.

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Alysanne - 03-14-2016

we heal with love,
It was going to be a day of firsts, it seemed. Not only did Alysanne get to the land she had been hoping to get to (without getting lost once!) but she also did not feel the usual tug that the Threshold gave her. There was no desire to leave Helovia this time, no wanderlust filled her thoughts. Normally she felt some sort of temptation but for now - almost everyone she loved as in the same place for the first time. Only her son was missing and she would have a better chance of seeing him again if she stayed put instead of going in search of him. Although she had wanted to get out of the Edge and stretch her legs she wasn’t thinking about leaving that herd at the moment.

Besides, someone with a level head needed to stick around and keep an eye on Tembovu.

Hemlock, her ever-present owl-shadow was in the middle of pointing out just how very much she had not been level headed lately, when they stumbled quite suddenly on someone else. Two someones. “Oh!” Like, embarrassingly suddenly. All of a sudden there they were in the twilight forest, just a few lengths away. She clearly had not been paying attention or she would have seen him but luckily she had looked up before she had ran into the striped stallion. She quickly came to a stop, trying her best to replace that surprise with a graceful expression as she looked between the two. “Good evening, I’m Alysanne.”

And there she faltered, a brief flicker of uncertainty in her emerald eyes, likely shattering any impression of grace she had been trying to muster. The Threshold was a strange place, you could never truly be certain whether those in this forest were recruiters, fresh arrivals, or simply someone looking for a home. Welcoming them to Helovia without so much as a hint of which category at which they belonged to did not make much sense to Alysanne. But this uncertainty wasn’t likely giving her a very good first impression so she was quick to cover up that moment with a smile - her gaze warm in the chill of a Frostfall evening. “Sorry about that, I was just looking for some company for the evening.” There was an unspoken question about whether she would be welcome with the pair - neither of whom were familiar to her. It would certainly be no harm if she wasn't, but it seemed impolite to stumble into the pair without so much as an attempt.


if this isn't open to everyone just let me know and she can bugger off <3
also I was just about to post when Rikyn did so apologies if any of this sounds awkward! Had to try to fix things for two characters instead of just Rastilyn xD

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Ki'irha - 03-14-2016

The northern unicorn mare made her way through the forest. Evening was creeping through the Threshold, the setting sun casting long shadows as it sank towards the horizon. The frostfall sky was alight with fiery hues, illuminating the warrior's curves in vibrant reds and oranges. She moved down a trail cut by many hooves before her, and the mild winter had spared this area of the Threshold from high drifts of snow.

She stood quietly, framed between two trees, observing the stallion. He moved quietly through the wood, and she considered whether or not he wished for anyone to break his solitude. He was a monsterous stallion, towering above her in hight, and his body was etched with deep scars. She noticed the curve of his muscles beneath his grey and striped hide, and wondered where he came from. She couldn't deny that, at first sight, she marveled at his appearance. But she had not idea who he was, or where he hailed from, or why he was here. She remained silent at first, simply watching with an unwavering sterling gaze.

It wasn't long before another joined the stallion, and a soft snort escaped her flared nostrils. The gold trimmed boy, Rikyn, emerged from the treeline. The girl considered turning around and leaving. The petulant boy had caused many a headache for her, and she wouldn't mind allowing another season to pass without him crossing her path. But she was a general now, the head of an army, and she couldn't let an unsavory person like the the gilded prince dissuade her from entering a situation. Another mare entered the gathering, and a break in the testosterone was well appreciated. This was a pegasus mare, and one the blue girl didn't remember ever seeing before.

Her mane fluttered in white cascading waves down the nape of her neck, and her head tipped delicately to the side. "Hello," she began, voice even and light. She stepped tenderly forward, eyes looking to the newcomer, before turning and giving a brief nod to Rikyn. After the herd meeting, she needed to learn diplomacy, and when it was better to let some things go. A smile was then given to the pegasus mare, and warmth replaced the disappointment in her stormy gaze. "It seems as though we all shared our desire for company," she laughed, the sound warm and welcoming. Looking back to Raistlyn, she took another step forward, closing the awkward distance she had previously retained as she tried to remain unnoticed, until she stood among the quartet. "It's a beautiful evening, wouldn't you agree?" Her sculpted head carried her crown proudly as she looked towards the sky. The oranges were fading, and the encroaching evening hues accented her own starry coat.

She hoped the golden boy wouldn't start any needless drama, because she was more than content simply ignoring him, and perhaps inviting the other stallion to follow her back to the Basin. She was sure the doctor in their midst would attempt her own recruitment, but until then, they were on even ground. It would be interesting to see how this would go.
Tagged// @Rikyn @Raistlyn @Alysanne Posted before I saw Alysanne's post! So same notes as Sarah, lol, sorry if it at all sounds clunky after my edit!

image || table

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Tangere - 03-14-2016

She joins them with almost complete silence upon her approach. Seeming to emerge out of nowhere, slipping in from the shadows to stand next to Rikyn. Her pale bird finds the pines to their west and watches ever quietly from among the cones and needles. She gives the chocolate boy a grin firstly before addressing anyone else. She recognizes him as Illynx's son and likes to be reminded of the venomous warrior woman. She enjoyed the GildedBlade and once learned quite a few things from her – not to mention that her reign was a rather productive one, in Tangere's opinion. Of course she is biased though; his mother was the one who brought her to the beautiful tundra and its painted skies. She relishes in its delightful frozen embrace and even its grumpy residents whom she loves dearly despite their constant state of misery. She could never frown upon the woman's child unless he gives her good reason. “Yes it is a beautiful evening, Ki, no denying that.”  Her eyes sweep dreamily to the skies and then to the newly appointed Basin General and her gaze lights up with the quick flash of memories of their pleasant times in the snow last frostfall. She nods and mouths a 'hello' and turns her head to the mare with big gorgeous wings, a smile still upon her pink muzzle and she nods in gracious greeting. Her stare then to the subject of their intent (because let's not lie about our intentions).

She lets the quiet engulf them for a few moments, waiting to see if anyone else is going to speak. She gracefully seizes the cold air with words.“Hello everyone,” She dips her head politely to the group and quietly leaves her soft voice in the middle of them all. She is reluctant to be the first to bring up why they're all here, but she simply can't won't, pretend they've come to enjoy the sky (even if it's beautiful). “We've come bearing an invitation to the Aurora Basin, to the northwest of here. We're a strong, growing family of lovely savages.” She references Ki when she says we, laughing delightedly at her own small joke. Though being silly, there is some part of her that is serious. If given the choice again she would choose the 'savages' again and again.

non omnis moriar

Image Credit<3

@Raistlyn @Rikyn @Ki'irha @Alysanne

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Essetia - 03-14-2016

Essetia & Romul

And although I wasn't losing my mind, It was a chorus so sublime
It is tragedy that makes a mortal and courage to overcome it that makes them a God.

In such a life, everyone around Essetia strove toward divinity, toward recognition, and toward power in some way. Yet, the mare herself was merely lost, adrift. Her purpose had not been defined thusly and at times she felt as though it had perished when Midas fell from the skies amid bolts of lightning and in time with the punishing cadence of the rain. Those had been vastly different times in which Essetia was a rising star, determined to outshine the father she never knew… But death (she’d never witnessed it before) had changed her. It had made her cautious and afraid, though she often attempted to hide her losses behind wit and sarcasm. All that remained now was an empty shell bearing her face, her name, and nothing else. Her tasks were mindless and her faith was nonexistent. How she recovered from her grievances was a secret that would forever remain untold, even if she lost the greater part of herself in the process.

The Threshold stretched before her like an old, familiar friend and the returned spy was more than at ease wandering its beaten walks. She’d gone left, right, and through the sparse underbrush that sheltered creatures still unknown to her, but each time she treated it as if it were the first. When the mare had arrived at the vast tree line once again, she deliberated her course while quietly sighing against the Frostfall cold. The right would take her across a stream with narrow banks, the left would lead her into thick and unforgiving brushwood, and moving straight into the wooded glen would brand her witness to a thick, towering pine that surpassed all the rest. However, as the light of the moon began to drift across the evening sky, Essetia decided that she would pay the old pine a visit and hope that his branches would lead the way toward more promising opportunities.

A gentle, wintry gale whispered through the trees and both Essetia and Romul shivered against its bone chilling embrace. Nightfall was imminent and it wouldn’t be the first time that the pair had found their way into the claiming grounds at such an hour seeking distraction from the various obligations she’d been presented in the Throat. She longed to return to her tasks and to her passion, but it felt too large for her now, somehow too out of reach than it had before. That agony had plagued her for a time, but she had quickly masked it behind indifference and diversion…  She was not who she was before.

When the accustomed lilt of voices lifted above the growing breeze and the vastness of the Threshold, Essetia trailed the notes toward a small gathering of curious looking creatures. There was a boy brushed with gold, a man stricken in deep browns and blacks, and a beautifully painted Pegasus with rich, emerald eyes. However, Essetia was drawn most to a star touched woman with a voice as soft as morning dew (at least in her own opinion). The spy was no stranger to these such congregations though and quickly approached to join the masses. There was one among them that she’d seen before under equal circumstances and Essetia nodded diligently to the horned grey in hopes of reconciling any prior bad behaviors. Of course, the spy was not one for sincerity when it came to those hailing from the Basin, so her actions were but a mere façade at best.

However, as greetings were exchanged and well-wishes transpired and the hum-drum monotony of it all became too much to bear, Essetia nearly laughed. “Well isn’t this lovely?” she questioned of everyone with a growing smile. Romul was anxious at her side, taking a head count in case his companion’s tongue earned them both a good lashing. “Ess,” he pressed inwardly, intending to encouraged civility amongst strangers. But, Essetia was already moving on, her pale stare turning to each face in turn. It didn’t take her long to detect their object of interest (though she was quickly becoming a weed amongst flowers) and she tilted her head curiously.  He was a man hardened by circumstances Essetia didn’t care to know and also a man who’d surely encountered his fair share of demons judging by the severe look in his eye. What remained of Essetia and her once girlish ways desired his story -wanted to know his past- but stories didn’t make a man and they certainly didn’t discriminate when it came to recruiting for the Dragon’s Throat. “You have quite the entourage here. I don’t suppose you’d mind one more?” she challenged, her gaze permanently fixed upon the man and his indigo eyes. “I’m Essetia and this is Romul.”

Whether it was a new beginning for him or merely another tongue wagging false promises would be entirely up to him. Either way, Essetia and her wolf would maintain their tedium, forever visiting the Threshold just to pass the time.
OOC|| ;_;
Image Credit

@Raistlyn @Rikyn @Ki'irha @Alysanne

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Raistlyn - 03-16-2016

He hadn’t expected company but was nonetheless unsurprised when a stranger turned up.  This area showed signs of populace, though nothing of permanence.  Snapped branches and well trod trails winded through the snow-laden trees and what little sparse vegetation survived winter’s frigid kiss remained relatively un-grazed.  Ghosts entered this place, perhaps much like himself, wandering vagabonds, searching for a life left behind but unable to return. From the signs of this place, the ghosts only pass through and leave. Whereto and to what end, he couldn’t say.

Part of him hoped that there is a terrible curse or a dark monster haunting these woods that ultimately prevents a population from settling here. But nothing felt out of place; no darkness lurked here. Nonetheless, the thought is comforting, however unlikely that it may be.  

Young, Raistlyn thought.  He was surprised and mildly impressed he didn’t sense or hear the stranger's approach.  As natural as breathing and just as automatic, he honed his senses on his surroundings and became more aware of the scents and distant sounds that the wind carried.  From then on he remained more alert and vigilant than when he had first entered the wood.  His heavy thoughts and feelings had clouded his mind like a thick, damp fog.  If he was back in the Rift, that single moment of careless idleness could have certainly been his last.  But this world is not the Rift.

It was a tame world and so he lived another day.

He observed the stranger closely, noting the healing wounds first, the bright metallic glitter of a golden horn and keen golden eyes second.  He sensed nothing threatening or otherwise aggressive about the young dark unicorn, just mild curiosity.  The overall analyzation of the stranger and perhaps most especially his youth left a strange impression on Raistlyn.  He recalled a cave in the mountains.  A deep, dark cave glittering with gems and firelight.  A pool of molten silver liquid and iron shackles. And pain. Pain beyond recognition; he remembered that most.  Of eleven, three survived training. Of three, only Raistlyn survived the final Trial.  But he was forever changed and sometimes he wished he had not survived.

The stranger’s question pulled him from the memory of the cave in the mountains.  

Yes, you could say that,” he answered wryly, a bitter tone lingering in growling rasp of his voice.  His breath unfurled in the cold, twisting like a serpent.  How long had it been snowing?  He stamped his hoof and shook the snow from his silver hair.  “Ever heard of the Rift?” Somehow he had an uneasy feeling Helovians would know the word and would not willingly receive him kindly as a result of associating him with the Rift.  If a portal had brought him here from the Rift, he could not fathom what else had escaped into this fair green haven. Had destruction and chaos been unleashed here, as well as the Wood?  What heinous creatures now roamed and infested their realm?  How long could Ultima survive out there, without his protection?

And for this reason, he resisted the urge to return to his solitary exile in the shadows and remained in place, feeling vulnerable in the small clearing.  He could hear others moving through trees.  Was he being watched? Followed?  Before he could continue questioning the dark unicorn, a black and white pegasus barreled into the clearing, nearly crashing into him.  She righted herself with an exclamation of embarrassment and introduced herself as Alysanne.  He was not sure what sort of person sought company in dark forests under the shadow of dusk, but he was not one to question or inquire about things he did not find interesting or of relevance, so he did not comment on her quest for company.  How strange this realm was.  

Alysanne seemed quite harmless and perfectly friendly but he remained cautious and wary.  She glanced eagerly back and forth between himself and golden-eyed unicorn, perhaps looking for some sort of confirmation that she was welcome here.  She was neither welcome nor unwelcome, but he supposed he ought to at least acknowledge her.  He tilted his head politely.   “Evening.”  He glanced at the stallion, wondering if they were acquainted at all.

Two more emerged from the trees, closing in on the small group like wolves stalking prey.  Two unicorns, both female who smelled similarly, like mountains and crisp pine.  One with silver hair, bright eyes, and stars glittering on her shoulders.  He wondered if she was naturally this beautiful, or was it some sort of enchantment?  He wished the silver medallion on the thin chain around his neck had not lost its magical properties when he had crossed through he portal.  It would have burned his skin if it sensed any magic or powers in the immediate area.

The other female had a strong looking, black twisted horn, faint grey paint markings, and a remarkably thick winter coat.  He almost envied her; his was not very thick and the cold had a way of making his bones ache. Perhaps Alysanne had not known the golden-horned stallion, but the silver-maned female certainly did. She appraised the stallion with an icy look and then did not acknowledge him again.  But she assumed far too much; he certainly did not desire any sort of company.  He almost said so, but that would get him nowhere.  He needed information.  They desired company.  He was not sure what kind of a trade that was, but then again, this realm and its customs were strange.

Fortunately, he did not have to oblige the star-mare be entertaining her notion of the evening sky; the black-horned female with a thick coat quickly agreed, cordially addressing the other female as Ki.  Was they sky beautiful? He did not know.  At one time in his life, nature had held a certain degree of beauty and gave him a sense of peace.  Since then, he maintained indifference.  The sky was shot with ribbons of blood; he could not see the beauty in that.

Savages.  They are all savages, he thought.  He did not exclude himself, but he could not include himself, either.  He was not what they were.  A mutant, an outcast. And yet he had vowed to protect these savages from the dark and the even darker creatures that prowled in the shadows.  Again and again he had fulfilled his oath, but they remained no less savage and cruel than before.  He did not know if humanity was worth saving any longer, but serving them and following the Path was all he knew.

A home?  He finally realized what they were offering him.  A home.  The concept was nearly impossible for him to understand.  He had no home, no family. Only one single purpose that completely consumed him.  The purpose for his creation, the sole reason he lived and breathed.  He could never have home or wife, or even a comfortable life.  His place was on the Path, and it was a lonely one.  

Aurora Basin.  Northwest. Perhaps he would begin his search there, and work his way south. Before he could inquire about this Aurora Basin, a remarkably tall mare with strong shoulders wove through the trees to join them in the clearing as the colors drained steadily from the sky.  The stench of wolf filled his flaring nostrils, but no one seemed alarmed by the white wolf that trailed obediently by the bay mare’s side. He eyed it curiously, wondering what magic the enchantress must have used to tame the beast’s spirit; he would be very interested in such magic.  They must all be sorceresses. One was far too beautiful, the pegasus had a tame keen-eyed owl, and the black-horned female also had a seemingly content white raven. The thought of being surrounded by sorceresses made him uneasy-- he'd dealt with their vicious kind in the past and hardly anything good came of dabbling with their mix. Although...there had been those exquisite nights under the moonlight with two sorceresses in particular...

But that hadn't ended well either, now that he thought about it.

The bay mare seemed quite unremarkable compared to the others, except for her pale eyes and bold marking lancing across her face, but he was also quick to notice how greatly she differed.. There was a hardness to her voice.  Was it bitterness?   She fixed him with a unyielding gaze, penetrating and cold. Some sort of challenge, he sensed.  He ignored her question, still considering her thoughtfully as she introduced herself as Essetia and the wolf as Romul.  What has the world done to you?  

It was against the nature of his mutant kind to seek out the company of others, but when the situation arose, he somehow mustered enough social grace to navigate through the simpler of interactions.   Raistlyn hadn't interacted with Helovians yet; he had managed to avoid them until now.  But his Path remained uncertain and he lacked all knowledge of this place, he desperately needed answers, and the quicker he engaged in their small-talk, the quicker he could get those answers and find Ultima and return with her in tow to the Rift. He was, however, unsettled by their quick acceptance of him and how unperturbed they remained in his presence.  Why were they honoring him with offers of homes and companionship?  Did they not know the damning brand on his shoulder? Were they blind to the fangs beneath his lips when he spoke, or the slit pupils of his strange feline eyes?

They did not know who he was, or what he was.
The realization…it was mystifying.

I am Raistlyn of the Rift.”  He considered carefully what to say next, watching their expressions closely for any sign of recognition.  “A portal brought me to the Riptide Isles some time ago.”  He grimaced at the thought of the portal, the blinding green light, and the chaos that followed.  He glanced at the two unicorns from the Aurora Basin.  “Your offer is appreciated, but I must decline.  Traveling is part of my profession." Was this their ulterior motive? Recruiting soldiers to fight their wars and live and die for their kingdoms? If this was true, at least he might do some good here in the future. Where there are wars, there are always monsters, and where the are monsters, he would always be needed. "I’m also searching for someone.  My niece,” he added hastily. The idea of having a niece was entirely laughable, but Raistlyn didn’t laugh very often. "We were separated after the portal closed." 

ooc: uhhh i'm sorry this is so long and so boring omg, i'm really super rusty writing-wise and trying to get back in the hang of things! Thank you all for threading with me! :)

@Rikyn @Ki'irha @Alysanne @Tangere

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Rikyn - 03-17-2016

Not the five feet of water to your chin

At first, it’s just us two, and the steady stare of appraisal that passes between two men when they first meet. It’s not to say females don’t take the time to look one another over, but I don’t believe it is with the same light – more along the lines of who is prettier, not who will walk away wearing who’s teeth. Thankfully, his creepy eyes do their business, concluding as I have that we are simply wanderers, and that I am no threat to him.

One of my hind hooves alters its angle to one of tranquility as he speaks, though the harshness of his tone is certainly not what allows me such ease around him – rather that I’m young, and often careless. That no fight was immediately born in our meeting is good enough for me to kick back, this fellow’s bad mood having little to do with my more chipper one. Maybe he hates snow, I think as he shakes the flakes away (but they keep drifting, ever downwards)…

‘Ever heard of the Rift?’ he asks, and suddenly the interest in my gaze blazes into full fledged delight at getting to display a portion of my wealth of knowledge. Besides, thinking of the Rift brings to mind Ming Yue, and I always enjoy thinking of my friends in the North. My ears lift, my head manages to (somehow) find an extra degree of levity, and it’s all I have to not delightedly pace forward, spewing a whole lot of information way too quickly.

Take a deep breath, now…

"Yep," I say, the most roguish and youthful of grins brimming on dark lips, as I lean in a bit closer, having struck a sonorous chord already with this strange fellow, and eager to continue about how our Gods and people really gave his Gods the big stick, though I won’t get such a chance. The sound of approach draws both the stranger and I’s attention to the trees, my smile immediately falling away into the dismal line of reproach and annoyance, even before I get to see who it is that’s coming.

Like a log adrift in the sea, once you quit moving in this forest… they all start clinging to you, like wet weed or passing fish carcasses.

She is full of rainbows and sparkles, if the evidence of her arrival is enough for me to go by – a stammered “I’m sorry,” as if it would have spared her the sword were she to run into me, the sweet pitch of her voice as she smiles back and forth at the two of us. She gets no return smile from me – it’s more of an aggravated scowl. For being a full fledged woman like she is, you’d think the magpie would get some more sense about her, like, I don’t know… looking?

The stranger doesn’t seem to know her, managing a greeting while I simply stare her down like she’s some sort of buffoon. If he wonders if we know each other, I hope this answers him – hell to the flaming no.

Now, I do know the next two, golden eyes narrowing despite my attempts to contain the glare I return to Ki’irha, rather than a nod, as she offers me. I swear, some women are just so moody, and this one is definitely one of the worst. Just a few weeks ago, she was ready to rip my throat out for accidentally attacking her months ago (it’s a super long story), and here and now she’s acting almost… cordial, except that freezing cold shoulder she puts on after introductions are through.

What. Ever.

The second is Tangere, her smile kind and as I remember it from a much smaller height. Despite having been interrupted by a bird and a bitch monster, I am happy to see her, and return to the smile, even going so far as to reach out and attempt to run my lips along her near shoulder, if she’ll let me, in greeting. And so, it seems, things will return to normal, because the healer alongside me is the first to offer the very usual offering made in this wood, once they get over talking about how “lovely” snow is (I think its cold, and makes for poor footing).

That she calls them “savages” is moderately appropriate – they certainly managed to chase my whole family off well enough (speaks the bitterness of youth). Still, I can’t help but think of the mountain unicorns as being more than that beneath the veneer of smut and filth that have accumulated on their gleaming name over the years of struggle in Helovia, having been to a kingdom where things were as my mother, as the Plague, had wanted all those years ago. They could be Kings, not just Lords of a mountain valley and the idiots residing there in.

The sigh that falls from me at this thought is well timed, covered from notice (with any luck) by the entrance of yet another woman, a white wolf at her heels. My ears fall back ever so slightly, nostrils widening at the scent of the fluffy hound, so perfectly matched to the white flakes that drift from above; I don’t like this woman or her wolf even more than I don’t like the magpie, or Ki’irha, mostly because her companion makes parts of me curdle up and whimper.

Fighting against the distrust of the white wolf, I let my anger eat away the fear. Maybe it’s not smart – but this lady should meet Elsa. They both are obviously suffering from some sort of female rage problem.

‘Isn’t this lovely?’ she says with such a tone that can only mean she wants to be kicked in the jaw.

Well yes, it is, bitch. Two strapping unicorn gentlemen, two pretty unicorn women, and two ugly fucks to make them look that much better – seems pretty damn lovely to me.

I think my face says as much, the off handed angle of my relaxed hoof (which has been so even through the arrival of all the others) suddenly meeting the earth, my golden eyes pulling away from the stranger and his reactions to stare hotly at this… Essetia, imagining a thousand holes dripping all across her pretty brown skin. I can play nice, see?

The only thing that pulls my eyes away from her is the rumble of the stranger’s voice, my focus again collecting on the strangely marked features of his (to be perfectly honest) creepy face. It was mostly the eyes, all slit and orange – but I’ve also heard tell and seen enough in my two years to know that the unicorn, in particular, comes in all shapes, sizes, and shades. Raistlyn, of the Rift. I like his name as much as I am interested in the Rift, which I learned some of from Ming Yue, but certainly not enough to appease a boy’s curiosities. For instance, what sort of kingdom structure was there within this Rift? How many kingdoms, if any? And, were any of them primarily or entirely Unicorn?

Did they have tales of the True Gods?

She had known only of her own province, but had alluded that there were many more. When he explains that he passed through the Riptide portal, my wonder if he might be from the same place as Ming fades away, the likelihood of he coming through the last portal and she the first, both from the same realm, seem pretty small – not that I claim to know much about portals.

When he continues onward about being a traveler by nature, and one who is looking for something, I find that I can’t help but almost hang on his words.

While I had missed home while I wandered about as a boy too young to really be adventuring, something else had settled into my heart while I was busy worrying about its ache – a lust for adventure, for new things, to learn and to see. That this man does precisely that makes my heart beat a little bit faster in my chest, my tail swish swaying behind me in abandon to the cheerful thought of being a vagabond of purpose, such as Raistlyn is.

"I was not at the Battle for the Riptide Isles," I include with some haste, not wanting to have my moment usurped by this chattering collection of hens, "but I was at three others. Perhaps I saw your niece?"

Or maybe I didn’t, and, even if I had, who’d say I’d remember her? Still, it would help add some concrete to my next suggestion, one that, if he was serious about travelling and being alone, would probably be shut down. I am always willing to try, if nothing else – I lost count of the times mother told me to go away around four hundred, and I have absolutely no emotional connection to this guy at all. He could tell me know in eighteen languages for all I’ll care.

The notion of a missing persons search, especially one which will reunite family, is one which greatly interests me – and, if I’d known the real reason we’d be hunting her down, I don’t think my enthusiasm for the matter would deteriorate in the least. Learning is learning, and whoever his niece is, I don’t know her, and don’t really care what becomes of her.

"Either way, I know Helovia, a traveler of sorts myself. I might be helpful to you in your search for her, if nothing else."

@Raistlyn @Alysanne @Ki'irha @Tangere @Essetia

but the inch above the tip of your nose.

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Alysanne - 03-19-2016

we heal with love,
More come and Alysanne wished that one of them was from the Edge so that she would have an excuse to leave. This was supposed to be an easy little trip into the Threshold, she hadn’t even really wanted to find anyone. Fortunately, although the two males she had approached had been incredibly less than welcoming - particularly the young gold one. I was saved from retorting to the rude looks because there were others arriving. I don’t recognize a single one of them, making the crowd even less appealing. But the mares were friendly enough - a few even joking about the crowd.

Alysanne stepped back to make room for the newcomers, happily giving up space. It was odd how there were two mares from the Basin. Did they often visit the Threshold in pairs? Was it an effective recruiting method, to double up? It seemed to be a little bit of overkill to her, and probably a little overwhelming for the newcomer.

Soon they were enchanted by the introduction and story of Raistlyn - Alysanne maintained an easy smile despite her growing discomfort. It would seem there would be no recruitment here today - already declining the multiple offers to go back to the Basin. Well, he wouldn’t likely be coming back to the Edge but the mention of a niece stopped the pegasus from making an excuse to leave. The young gold-accented boy didn’t offer his name, nor any help really in finding more about the niece. “What is your niece's name? Perhaps one of us has met her - the odds are pretty good.” The smile at the joke was genuine then as she looked to the other mares that had gathered. Things would certainly go a little easier if they had a name and a description to go off of, wouldn’t they?

“I was on the islands that day and there’s a mare from the Rift in my herd that came into Helovia in the Riptide Isles as well.” There was something a little unnerving about Raistlyn and it prevented Alysanne from giving up the name freely, just in case he wasn’t friendly toward the mare she had taken in as a friend.


keeping it short since there's so many people <3

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Tangere - 03-24-2016

The energy seems to converge – a grid around the mutant. The mentioning of the rift only gets an ear flick and a slight nod of her head, she's happy to blend back into the group and stand quietly beside the GildedBlade's son. Shivers spread from where his breath brushes her shoulder and her eyes draw to him, grinning with both her stare and those pink lips. She allows him his gentle touch and returns it with a soft whuff against his muzzle, touching her nostrils to his warm skin. She relishes in the simplicity of silent, primal greetings like that. It's easy to forget such things when you're thrown into the chaos of Helovia. No one ever does these things anymore, or so she thought. She settles again to lay both ears onto the voice of Raistlyn, who politely declines her and Ki's offer. His eloquence about the refusal leaves her feeling just fine about it. Bitterness does not well up in her heart and her stare stays softly onto him, listening and watching him ever so carefully while he interacts with the group. She has no desire to turn and leave just yet.

Traveling...” She whispers almost to herself. “If you need another pair of eyes...” She doesn't finish but her offering is there, hanging between them with its obviousness. Her smile is gone but she holds no scowl, only a bland curious sort of look while her hazelnut eyes shift from body to body.

When Alysanne steps back Tangere nervously shifts and takes a half-step backward as well. It is instinct. The winged woman seems so graceful and quiet – Tangere naturally takes her movement as a queue. Her shoulder rubs against Rikyn's rib-cage as she retreats only slightly and settles again, watching the gorgeous woman with unprying eyes. The lady adds an interesting piece to this puzzle...

non omnis moriar

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sorry if it's not my turn <3

RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Ki'irha - 03-27-2016

The longer they lingered, the more that joined their meeting. Ki'irha shifted uneasily as their quaint meeting turned into a full-blown welcoming party. She enjoyed meeting others in the threshold, because typically the events were small and simple. She gave slight nods to all who arrived, and smiled at Tangere. She recognized the mare from her home, not only by the familiar smells that clung to her dappled pelt, but also because they had played in the snow like yearlings shortly after her own arrival to Helovia.

Silver eyes swept back to the buck, and he shared his name. It was uncommon, and one that she had never heard before. He spoke of his wandering soul, and how he wished not to follow any of them home. She nodded in understanding, knowing that if a home was unwanted, it would act as an anchor, and hold a vagabond's soul down and make it wary. Typically she would wish him the best and move along, knowing her venture to the threshold would be fruitless, but still she stayed. He was from the Rift, which was enough to make her somewhat leery due to her lack of knowing about the place. All she knew of the Rift was how it produced plague-like disease and violent gods. It was his intent here that piqued her interest. She had lost her brothers as she escaped certain death, so her heart ached for Raistlyn as he spoke of his lost niece. Others who spoke before her offered their services I finding her, and she would certainly be willing to assist in his gathering of information.

"Though it is not a home you want, perhaps I can still offer some assistance. Many have crossed my path and I, theirs, so maybe I have met her? I have at least one who calls my herd 'home' who came from the rift. Her name is Ming Yue, though I'm not sure where she hailed from. There may be others, so if you care to share a name, maybe one of us has seen her." She cast her eyes across the gathering, knowing the odds may be in the newcomer's favor.

She fell silent again, waiting to see if he could offer further information. Or perhaps he simply wished to journey and discover her himself. Though not the most practical of adventures, he was sure to find plenty should he wander the expanses of Helovia in search for a single soul. And if he were to find her, it certainly would be a story to remember.
Tagged// @Raistlyn @Essetia (because you're next) This post is such crap, but I just wanted to get something up. I kept it short due to the amount of people who joined. Sorry for the wait!

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RE: A WINDING, WEAVING FATE - Essetia - 04-06-2016

Essetia & Romul

And although I wasn't losing my mind, It was a chorus so sublime
There were so many. So many eyes casting their judgements, so many lips pressed together, keeping their secrets locked inside, and so many backs carrying burdens unknown. As she glanced around, still enamored by the strange monotony surrounding the act of ‘recruiting’, Essetia felt somehow disarmed. She didn’t mind those piercing golden eyes or the signs of irritation at her entrance, but instead let the insults roll from her shoulders like a stream.  After everything she’d encountered, was it any wonder that a single-minded beast with the patience of a child appeared more a weed than a flower? Weeds could be plucked and burned.

Others had fared better beneath her opinionated heel, but the spy wasn’t exactly there to make friends and proved as much by quartering herself away from the crowd itself. She tipped a rear hoof in agitation while Romul went about whining softly against her shoulder, perturbed by the mare’s insolent behavior. Yet, instead of nagging the creatures clearly in line for punishment, Essetia remained silent, listening.

The stranger was a character in his own right, a hardy and unfortunate creature to be sure, but there lurked something much deeper than his missions and his tales that kept the spy from straying. He was scarred and yet beautiful, odd and nonsensical, and possibly… unfeeling? What was it that attracted her so? Piqued her curiosities?

Everyone around her fell into place, providing answers where she could not. She knew nothing of the Rift, knew nothing of the world below or its Gods, but when the silence turned ‘round and the stones had all dropped, she allowed herself voice against the rest. “I can’t say that I’d be of any assistance to you now, but I’m sure we’ll cross paths one day for some reason another. It was good to meet you… Raistlyn of the Rift.” Then, with as little grace as she’d arrived with, she departed, her white wolf trailing in her wake. 

OOC|| So sorry for the delay! Quick exit to keep things moving!
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