[O] Low Roar. - 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] Low Roar. (/showthread.php?tid=24677) |
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Low Roar. - Zyanya - 07-23-2016 I paced the places and the hallways where we'd meet
hoping one day you'd come my way and sweep me off my feet. Rain.
It poured from the heavens, from massive grey clouds whose edges she could not see. The droplets were large, a cool touch on warm skin. The heat of summer abated, fleeing from the moisture and allowing the whole world to glow with green light in the forest. Instead of the orange tint of the sun, the life of the forest prevailed. Leaves sought the nectar of the sky, stretching out hands to grasp the drink before it disappeared below. Within the trunks of the trees, a woman. Her body is a slight figure of pale blue and gold, starkly opposite of the dark hued green trees. A long mane is plastered against her shoulder from the rainwater, suggesting she has been standing out of shelter for a while now. Her eyes rest steadily on the crashing surface of the ruby waters, an air of indecision wrapped around her whole body. Under the boughs and the billowing storm-clouds, the feeling of night spread among the forest in the middle of the day. Even the crimson of the ruby decorated pools darkens, almost running black as it skitters and flees from the rush of the falls into the forest. She, the pallid maiden with soft eyes, hums a tune from a distant land and time. The crashing of large droplets on the ground from above sparkle in the background of the song, seeming to fit with melody in a strange sort of way. A rain song from her home, a blessed plea to bring storms to the valleys in dry times. Listening to the showers from above, her mind drifts in and out of reality, lurking in the corners of her memories while still taking in the sights of the present. In her heart, the ache of homesickness lurks beneath a thin layer of contentedness. Maybe, should the rain fall down long enough, it would wash away even the deepest set scars. "" ooc -- For @Virga RE: Low Roar. - Virga - 07-24-2016
@Zyanya RE: Low Roar. - Zyanya - 07-25-2016 I paced the places and the hallways where we'd meet
hoping one day you'd come my way and sweep me off my feet. She does not hear him over the sound of her voice, the sound of the rain, and the hush of the forest floor.
His body is too small to capture the attention of her eyes, but he does not remain a mystery forever. Weight appears on her flesh in the form of invisible strings from the tiny, darkset eyes of an inky shadow. The weight is tiny at first, not able to permeate through Zyanya's wistful thoughts of rain and distant valleys. The longer she remains, slowly waltzing through the forest with her head in rainclouds and long passed days, the heavier the feeling is. Finally, something in the back of her mind calls for her to turn her head, to look at her surroundings. Her eyes graze over the summer spent brush and trunks of trees, until a dainty figure draws her attention. A slight, obsidian ghost lingering a few paces behind her. The song in her throat pauses, and she halts, turning her whole figure to fully view her new company. A smile finds its way to her lips without thought or reason, but the child seemed... hesitant to approach her, at the very least. Perhaps, a bright light of a smile could render his doubts useless. Somehow, she could not be certain it would. "Hello," her voice raises gently above the thrum of rain on bark, "little stranger." Other than Kiada and Kianzo, Zyanya had never met a foal in Helovia. Unlike the twins which had reluctantly stood by their mother, this one seemed much more reserved. A kindred soul, if she would be so bold as to think such of someone she did not know. "I am Zyanya." Looking out over the forest, seeing the wavering boughs of trees in the wind of the storm, the pale girl attempts to think of conversation fitting a child. She cannot quite fit the bill. Instead, she slinks back into old habit, drawing upon the conversational standby of small talk. "The rain is a nice reprieve from this summer's heat, hmm?" The question raises slightly as she turns to look at his black figure, noticing for the first time isolated islands of white in the great expanse of darkness. They remind her of a very solemn night sky, or the view obscured by many trees. The imagery resonates with the posture of the boy in front of her beyond just coloring, though Zyanya cannot quite place why. He looked lost, and maybe that is why he trailed so silently behind her. If she peered inward, the mare might find him to be more of a comrade than any she had met thus far in Helovia. At least, that is how it appears at the surface of things. "" RE: Low Roar. - Virga - 08-07-2016
@Zyanya sorry this took so long D: RE: Low Roar. - Zyanya - 08-30-2016 I paced the places and the hallways where we'd meet
hoping one day you'd come my way and sweep me off my feet. The rain obscures the quake which radiates through the colt's body as she turns, hiding much from her lilac eyes. The gentle smile does not waver, though the colt looks still uncomfortable, uncertain. Something about his nature was reserved, a strange thing for a foal to hold. Normally, the light of youth gave them a natural cheerful and friendly air. He reminds her much of Iktan, her younger brother, who had spoken very little and tended to avoid the other children. There were things that delighted him, causing a smile more warm than the sun to form on his tiny face, to fill the once solemn child and the hearts of all around him.
This child makes no attempt to introduce himself, which does not seem to surprise nor offend the mare. Instead, she simply continues on the conversation, onesidedly, the best that she can. All her training in noble courts prepared her for dull and lifeless conversation partners, but her goals had been very different then. She was to be polite, to be friendly, to be inviting, but never troublesome. Instead, the picture of a perfect lady - polite and never burdensome. Something about the way the boy says 'rain' makes the mare want to chuckle. He seems perplexed, even slightly offended, by the element of water leeking from the heavens to the earth. His question does not finish, leaving a million rooting possibilities of what he wanted to ask. "Why is it?" is all he manages, and Zyanya ponders carefully. "Ryle hira," she says, slipping into an idiom of her ancient, native tongue instead of the speak used in the outside world, including Helovia. "Life is what it is." The phrases in translated for the boy, but she does not explain further the expression of her people. The meaning meant many things, usually different depending on the speaker or the situation. Slowly, the boy creeps closer, surprising Zyanya, though she shows no outward sign. She attempts to slow all her emotions in order to not stir the fragile courage of the boy. He lets loose a small tidbit of information about himself, and judging by the horn upon his head and the hint that his home was not hot, she wonders whether he too is from the Basin. Nodding, she smiles encouragingly toward him, his keen eyes observing the length of her horn before he poses a question she feels, rather than knows, he already has the answer to. Despite herself, Zyanya begins to feel very fondly of this intelligent, awkward child, a night sky with one star. "No," a twinkle of a laugh follows her answer, swallowed partially by the song of rain about them. "I live within the Aurora Basin." She makes no hint that she already felt he knew this, instead studying the small face for his reaction. The eyes which seek his expression are soft, wearing a thin veiled smile and slight curiosity. Hoping her stare did not make him self-conscious, she turns her attention back toward the rain sliding from the leaves above to the earth. "Why are you in the forest?" she asks, hoping to glean a bit more detail about why the young boy is traipsing about in the woods by himself, instead of with his mother or father. The mare only half expects an answer, based upon the boy's shy nature. "" ooc -- no problem! Mine is slow in coming as well RE: Low Roar. - Virga - 09-18-2016
@Zyanya RE: Low Roar. - Zyanya - 10-07-2016 I paced the places and the hallways where we'd meet
hoping one day you'd come my way and sweep me off my feet. The child seems to rebuke the translation like a bitter taste in his mouth, the corners of his dainty lips puckering from the sour slap of reality. Zyanya is impassive in that moment, her own lilac eyes drifting further into the past, remembering the first lips which imparted the simple wisdom. The taste of magic clung to the tongue of her past, bittersweet when looking into faded eyes now out of her reach. Still, a smile, serene and calm, rests on her own lips.
Accusatory, the boys question fills the small gap of silence between them. The smile grows brighter on her own face, resisting the urge to giggle at the grumpy little colt before her. Instead, she gifts him a pleasant look, a softness overcoming her features. "My mother," the twinkle in her eye speaking volumes of love, and the pain in her chest remains hidden underneath that brilliant gleam. The kindly face of her mother, elegant and wise, wreathed in smiles and adoring expressions, sits within her mind's eye for a moment, both filling and emptying her heart. The boy sighs, a heavy weight resting in his small mind. Of course, the porcelain doll of a mare has no idea what could possibly perturb the small boy so much. She cannot see past the veil of his eyes into his childlike thoughts, see his own desire to curl under his mother and hide from the rain. Only the small disappointments which he allows to fall through his features gives her hints to his mood. A lonesome star, so young and yet so strangely serious. She nods in return to his confirmation that he lived within the Basin as well, eliciting another smile from her. The name of his mother is unfamiliar to her, but this does not surprise the mare. The short time she had lived in the Basin, she had met many, yet there were still a myriad of unfamiliar faces which resided within the mountains. The title of General is familiar, however, and it is one that earns respect across most cultures - Zyanya's former home included. "I do not believe I have met her yet, unfortunately." The voice is soft, wordlessly begging forgiveness from the strange boy for not knowing his mother. He seems to contemplate how best to answer her inquiry - either to guard his purpose or eloquently describe it. The small, dark eyes take on a shrewd expression, something quite comical on a face so innocent. His words are strong, giving a large import to his place within the forest - a quest. "Ah," she says, voice taking on a true tone of admiration. "Perhaps, I can help you search... if you will have me, of course." He inquires about her own purpose, catching her slightly off guard, though she is unsure why. A thoughtful expression rests on her face for a moment. Truthfully, she had no reason to be within the forest. Maybe, she sought out the familiarity of trees to her old home, an attempt to assuage the loneliness building inside. "I guess, I had missed the forest." "" |