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[O] we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Printable Version

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we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Erebos - 01-01-2017


Once Kisamoa finished his declarations and intentions, the infidel pair wandered towards the Veins of the Gods.
 
Perhaps the boy thought just being near the deities and their shrines would awaken some clarity, indulge him in wisdom, make him see reasons for why his father has perished, why the earth wanted to swallow him whole, or why he never seemed to accomplish anything of worth without having it taken away from him. But he couldn’t go close enough to those sanctums without remembering the Sun God’s speech, telling him not to chase down the runes of his past (but how could he not – when it’d been everything for him, when those were the only facets of his life with Deimos still in them?), and the rage, the madness, sunk through his brow, along his vicious stare. He turned away from the brush, the mildew, the withered, decayed grass curled against memorials and monuments, holding back the crawling, grasping, clenching wounds making their way down his skull; he breathed, and the moment failed to go away.
 
All he wanted to do was grieve.
 
Orsino led him through the channels, along the flowing magma veins, down towards an outcrop of broken logs clogging a portion of the lava’s reign. Erebos stared at it, not willing to indulge in any other movement, glancing at the bubbling pool of heat and potency, struggling not to see the Reaper’s scythe dipped in infernal oil, in blades of steel and might, in waves of raw power, and the fresh, pathetic slate of tears began to roll down his cheeks. He felt his knees quake, his limbs buckle down to the ground, head hung low, nearly touching the soil, and the sable kitsune hissed near him, low and feral, frustrated and lamenting too. You must do something he proclaimed, focusing his gaze on the scion who was supposed to be more than just another figure, just another face in a sea of so many, but already consumed by one more death, one more vile twist in his life.
 
I don’t want to, the infidel said in return, for once giving over his bold, intrepid, daring valor for listlessness; trying to hear the sounds of his father’s voice again. You will be better had been his last words, and already Erebos had failed them.
 
The fox narrowed his eyes and threatened to wreak havoc, but the youth rose again, without fire, without passion, drifting over to the lake of morphed rock and savage calamity, maybe I’ll fall in it, he thought, and the kitsune stayed close by to ensure nothing of the sort happened. Slowly, the General reached forward and grabbed a stick with his teeth, wrenching it back towards him, and placing it along the shore, numb once more. Orsino watched him closely, taking miniscule steps, searching through nearby weeds for the ivory of a broken, whittled away bone, because he knew the warrior wouldn’t be able to do it himself.
 
Too much, the kitsune uttered in a silent, unholy sibilance. 

[Open to anyone! Erebos is cleaning out a bunch of broken logs clogging up an area of the lava flow and Orsino is trying to find some bones on the shore.] 

Image Credits



RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Thranduil - 01-01-2017

Posting Poetics

He was as usual, quite pleased with himself. The gold had quite a lovely trick up his sleeve to help with the task at hand. Sure he might grab some bones later, but the fun part here was certainly not in the recovery service, but the demolition crew. He was headed south, just past the Rotunda, when he saw a dark shape slip into the paths leading further south. Alone. Harks lean back and he pauses. Haldir follows his train of thought, looking as the figure slips on. The gold, for his part, shakes his head and goes on. Not wanting to get involved. Yet Haldir had a much kinder heart.


”Follow.” The stag does not follow his bonded as he sends his request. The golden shakes his head. ”He’s fine.” Yet the stag looks back to where the figure has been, his face more concerned. Perhaps the golden and the dark prince were not best of pals at the moment, but he knew better than to think the gold cared nothing for the weight of the youth. And certainly the stag knew the danger of letting one grieve alone. ”Doubt it.” Again the gold pauses, his harks pinned back. His own mind was weighed by the loss of the Reaper as well and he needed no reminders. He was not a cheerleader, or even a therapist….but he was a showman..and he did need an audience. Perhaps it was the truth, or perhaps it was the excuse he needed. Turning round the gold follows the tracks of the dark prince towards the veins, with Haldir happily trotting alongside.

He had waited in the wings for a moment, watching. Yet when Haldir presses into his bonded’s thoughts, he finds nothing much. The gold holding them close. Then, as the companion went on, the Laurelin suddenly moved forward.

“Fine day for some destruction.” It came chipper, and light, as if nothing had happened. And yet, the gold’s presence here said something had. Perhaps the youth would be annoyed. Angry. Wanting anyone but the golden to be here in his grief. And yet, that idea didn’t stop the gold. Anger was better than staring listlessly at lava pools. He had to admit as well, the heat searing from these rocks felt wonderful. For the first time this spring, the gold could feel his body defrosting. Earth eyes glance to the youth, with his smile flashing. “Come now, you can do better than that.”

With that tease, the gold set about his work. He exhales slowly, letting the gears click and unlock within. His form falls away as sand, and beneath it is found the bold buckskin. It had been a while since he’d worn another’s clothes. He forgot how strange it was to change the height and feel of the world. Yet it wasn’t for those pesky changes he had stolen this particular identity. Instead it was a magic he had witnessed years back, a rather…explosive memory. Reaching within he found a hot orb, pulsating and feeling on the breaking point already. He reached in, but instead of having to wrestle it out as he sometimes did the magic practically burst forth, even before he’d had chance to aim it.

A laugh burst from his lips as he sees a rock near the build up burst from its settings, exploded upward and smashing into the wall of trunks. Damn. No wonder the girl had such spunk if she felt her magic so violently within her like this. More prepared this time, the gold within the buckskin reaches back once more, and this time the aim is better, and another explosion rocks the damn of trees near its middle, making quite a hole. With a brilliant smile the buckskin looks back to the dark prince. “Your turn.”


"Speech"
Tag;;
OOC;;
Identities;;  Shida





Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image


@Erebos


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Shida - 01-02-2017


Shida
Delicate as FUCK
"What in the motherfucking fuck was that?!"

I know putting a question mark and exclamation mark together isn't grammatically correct, or kosher, or whatever the dick, but if you just saw some girlie-man suddenly turn into you, you'd probably be a little lax on the writing etiquette too. And don't ask me how I got here. The Veins are on my way home, and I do what I want.

And, just in case I wasn't clear enough


"WHAT THE FUCK."

Listen. Normally I'm pretty chill. My home was invaded, by Ma and sister fucked off to go be heroes in the Edge, my Da turned out to be a fucking traitor, I gave it up on one drunken night with a piece of man-meat I haven't even seen in fucking seasons and got strapped with a kid, but that was all cool. I could handle that. But this?

Nah.

A god who looks like a whale vomited, telling me I need to earn my girl-scout badge by clearing up some trash?

Sure. Why not.

But some motherfucker casually becoming me??? Hells nah. 

At my heels, Princess whined, as if half expecting me to implode on the spot. And let me tell you, I was pretty fucking close. My baby blues glared at ... well, me. All sorts of things exploded in my mind, and yet I couldn't make my mouth say a damned one of them. I shot an annoyed glance towards Erebos as if trying to decide if he was in on this or not. 

"So??????????" I manage finally, thrusting out a hip and tossing my head back slightly. 

Fuck sake, is that what I look like from the side? I scan his my body, approving of my voluptuous curves, and grimacing at others. 

Shit, I think. I need to tone it back on the seaweed apparently.



Couldn't resist ;)


Image Credits


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Rikyn - 01-02-2017


Rikyn


It is the way of fated brothers, to follow after one another, unintentionally. We both move to the Shrines, perhaps drawn by the silent proximity of the Four, myself, and perhaps, it is the same for Erebos. That the mirror of our lives encompasses more than just the paths we chose to walk was not something I expected, however, as unsurprising as it is to see his familiar shape on the heat warped horizon.

I am glad to find him here; though it has not been long since I’d seen him last, there are new, deep rifts in my heart that could use the comfort of our closeness, even as worn and stretched as it is as of late. Perhaps, I think, oblivious to the similarities in our state of being at the moment, I can hide in the revelries of youth, and camaraderie. Perhaps, with his help, I might escape this pit that I endlessly find myself scrambling up the wall off, unsuccessfully finding myself trapped at its bottom, alongside the bodies of my father, and my childish dreams of family.

Another I know skirts towards him, already; not a shadow, but a beacon of annoying questions and cloying needs. Feeling my ears fall back at the sight of him, not eager to put myself through that today, I stop. Like a bead of sunlight, Duir’s thoughts enter the abysmal well of my mind, shining, dancing, blinding. I do not know how to clench shut the eyes of my thought, however, unskilled in such mental arts (perhaps partially why I’d been so fated to carry this blue stone of hell with me), and am forced to dwell in the glimmer of his warm heart.

Go, says the buck, more insightful of the situation, and my own needs, than I am. Besides the obvious lure of another of his kind, an occurrence which has yet to have occurred for him, he too knows that mourning alone is dangerous, and his keen, endlessly wise eyes see the slump and slack in the normally proud, soldierly Erebos’ lines. As if the torment of further, mental beacons of conversation is not enough, the buck butts my rump with his vine laden antlers, his brows furrowed down over his sunlit, forest gaze.

We arrive to the explosion of rocks against branch, Duir moving away from the danger with a worried glance. Only now do I notice the dark lines of tears on my friend’s face, the presence of his inner strength, something absent within myself. My own expression is dry, empty, a mask of nothing, watching the world through flat, dulled eyes of lackluster gold.

My weeping is done within, a silent river carving rifts inside my heart.

Silently, I arrive alongside Erebos, no words shared to either of them, for I don’t care to speak. The fact that Thranduil wears his jester’s grin makes me want to kick him, so I try not to dwell on his presence long, instead moving to assist my brethren in his task. Manually, without magic – the art somehow seeming to soil the perfect distraction of having to use one’s body to its fullest extend, to press ones mind to toiling on work, rather than empty spaces in your chest. I wonder why my friend cries, but I don’t ask, instead muttering roughly to the golden one, always meeting the world with sarcasm and a shrug.

"Shut up, Thranduil."

Is cast to the wind, moments before whoever's body he's stolen this time catches him. Actually managing to draw a fleeting smirk to my lips, the mare's outrage at the gold makes my heart lift, and I curiously raise my head, nudging Erebos' shoulder to pull his attention up from the tedious work of removing trees. The faintest hint of something other than abysmal nothing manages to bleed into my voice. "Looks like he's finally gonna get some recompense for playing charades all the time."

[ OOC: ahahahahahaha AHAHAHAHAHA ohmygod I'm sorry Hawk per usual. xD OHSHIT SORRY ODD I JUST NOW NOTICED SHIDA POSTED SHIIIIIIIIIITE ]
’cause we need a little controversy
@Erebos


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Oizys - 01-02-2017

AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I'D RATHER BE DANGEROUS

One of the first things the gargoyle wanted to do after discovering her new magic was to fly. She's watched as Ker owns the air around her, wheeling and screeching through the skies with all the elegance of a creature born to soar, for far too long now. Oizys is the jealous sort, and watching Ker gain an aerial view of the land whilst she herself is resigned to the ground has been frustrating to say the least. So, only a few hours after the shocking discovery that drinking a wolf's blood enabled her to turn into one, the filly demanded that Ker offer up some of her sanguine liquid to see whether the same rules apply to all creatures.

The eagle had initially objected vociferously, not liking the idea of cutting herself just so Oizys could turn into her. Unfortunately for her, Oizys wasn't prepared to take no for an answer, and she'd summoned several birds made of spark to herd the raptor towards her. Using such techniques on one's own bonded is probably frowned upon, but the gargoyle isn't the sort to use the gentle touch when violence is a viable alternative - her plan worked, Ker finding herself mustered towards the yearling's savage horns with a cacophony of shrieks that did nothing to save her from the swift jerk of Oizys' head that carved a small slice into Ker's large chest. The Philippine squealed like a stuck pig as her blood trickled down into her bonded's waiting jaws, and as the spark-birds dissolved into nothingness she flew away to sulk on a nearby branch.

After a cold eyeroll at her companion's antics - when will the eagle learn to just do as she's told? - Oizys focuses on the new hub of power that rests in her soul. She knows what she's dealing with now, knows how much it will hurt, and there's the slightest throb of anxiety in her mind now. She's a brave creature, but unimaginable pain isn't something even the most courageous of beasts become adept at dealing with. Still, that doesn't stop her, and after a fit of snapping bones and agonised shrieks, she bursts forth from the wreckage of her own body as a doppleganger to Ker.

Flight is something that takes some getting used to for one such as Oizys, who has been land-bound for the full year and a season of her life so far. She quickly realises that it isn't as easy as it looks, and for some unfathomable reason - the Gods being assholes and mocking her for being a unicorn not a pegasus, maybe - she can't seem to gain any height no matter how hard she tries. She's instead forced to glide awkwardly, whilst Ker wheels smugly along next to her and squawks happily at her misfortune.

Eventually, though, she begins to master having wings, and whilst she still can't fly properly for whatever odd reason, she can fly enough to get her from A to B. With a still-slightly-pissed-off Ker gliding lazily at her side, eagle-Oizys arrives at a gathering of unicorns that seem to be trying to move some trees for Kisamoa. She notices one - a pale stallion - suddenly turn into a two-horned filly in order to use some explosive magic, but the eagle-yearling can't help but cackle her beak off as the very same filly then arrives as well. "That's awkward," clacks the gargoyle, and next to her Ker winces her agreement.

She's here for a reason, though, not just to chuckle at the misfortune of a man who chose the wrong girl to imitate. Two very attractive young stallions are using their bulk to shift some logs, and it seems only fair that Oizys lends a hoof as well - after all, the swag from Kisamoa isn't going to hand out itself. She tilts her body towards the ground, and with a grunt her bones begin to snap and crack again as she transforms back from eagle to filly. It doesn't hurt quite as much turning back, and the yearling emerges from her bird-form with barely a mane hair out of place. "C'mon, make room for the lady," she remarks to the two stallions with a quirk of her brow. She's a large, burly creature for her age, already well on her way to reaching the seventeen hands that she'll one day become; with a snarl of brute strength, she throws her weight at one of the logs to try and move it.

image credits


TL;DR Oizys arrives in the shape of a Philippine eagle, then helps Erebos and Rikyn manually move the logs.


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Yael - 01-02-2017

yael

What good are wings if you don’t use them? And thus far, Yael has been pretty damn useless - a thought she’s had often, but has yet to take steps to remedy. But there is this task, this great teamwork of an event, and so perhaps she can find some sense of purpose - at least for a little bit.

It is far more difficult to find one’s self again when the trail has been lost between worlds, when one’s very scent and sense of identity has changed. Who can set the dogs loose and follow their baying bodies when what they’re searching for no longer exists? Even her skin has changed. The very way others say, yes, that is Yael. There is black where there wasn’t black before, a symbol written on her chest, a darkness - a darkness that was always forced back by love. And now her loves are gone.

The golden beauty flies low over the trees - rather unsure where to go, but looking for debris that Kisamoa spoke about; though the branches have yet to bud, the brown, muddy ground looks much the same, and she does not know what is supposed to be there and what is not. An explosion - the crack of noise and resulting dust catch her attention, and she wheels in the sky to her right, quickly finding the source of the commotion. Four unicorns - no, five - and their companions. And it looks like it was about to be a party of light and dark folks, with three of each once, Yael lands. Bonus for having no one Yael knows. No one with wings either. Perfect.

Her hooves touch the ground as a mare starts freaking out, causing Yael to realize that the two other aurelian unicorns were in fact the same unicorn. Her eyes widen, then narrow, and she takes a few steps towards the three dark unicorns, asking, “I take eet she doesn’t xaf an identeecal tin…?” There’s no other reason for her to be upset, she thinks. Unless it’s that she keeps a secret self chained up in a cave somewhere, and only let it out on weekends or when the moon was full, or venus in retrograde. The lady’s brown gaze flits between Erebos, Rikyn, and Oizys, then back to the now cock-hipped mare, and her grinning clone.

"I can take ze bones back to Keesamoa, vonce ve collect t'em."


trust your heart if the seas catch fire

live by love, though the stars walk backwards

Image © littlewillow-art



Eeek, saw Oizys just posted too XD


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Erebos - 01-02-2017


Thranduil’s words echoed from behind, and the boy barely reacted. Only snippets of phrases entered his mind at all, employing movement, motion, and swift, curt maneuvers to steer and steel himself away from falling back into the trap of mourning. Several were noteworthy in their irritated fixation: Go away and leave me alone were at the top of his skull, above the rise and fall of sadness, despondency, and despair, only discernible by the determined wealth of his stare – completely stagnant, impassive, and inscrutable. There aren’t any fringes of amusement, no edges crinkled in ebullience, just a tired, saddened dose of cold indifference, a reflection of his father’s abilities, before ignoring the beast completely, and returning to his work.
 
There were a few scarce moments of silence and stillness, where he snagged another branch with his teeth and pulled it ashore, battle-honed muscles straining, flexing, glad to be of use instead of lethargic and listless, before an explosion occurred, rendering his eyes wide, his body thrust backwards on waves of instinct and defense. His gaze immediately returned to Thranduil, who was not the Laurelin at all, but curved in feminine physique, buckskin, eerily familiar to other days not lost in tragedy, but glory-seeking (which would explain the voluminous explosion – if he can recall, the girl had been blowing things up at an alarming rate). His brow arched, his chest heaved out another sullen sigh, and ignored the digs, the assaults altogether. He didn’t have the fortitude to play games or orchestrate diversions for the other cretin; he’d already played too many in the season prior.
 
But as he knelt down to pick up a smaller log, broken apart by the most recent detonation, a loud chorus of shrieking (and it sounded like rage, blistering and horrid), caused him to turn back around once more, stare focusing on the most recent arrival.
 
Except…now there were two buckskin mares, one set in pretenses, and the other grounded firmly in reality.
 
Orsino settled himself away from bone picking to simply stop, watch, and marvel at the scene, tails twitching, dastardly stare fixated at the unfolding drama. He cackled through their connection, snickering, smirking, and the prince wouldn’t have been surprised to see him rolling along on the ground, taken in by the ridiculous spectacle. Erebos simply stared – completely, utterly fascinated by the transpiring events (because maybe now, Thranduil would get what he deserved and he didn’t know how he felt about it – relieved? Entertained? Was it right to feel such a way when moments ago he’d just been drowned in grief?).
 
Rikyn’s appearance, suddenly beside him (seemingly just as gruff, just as sullen, and the boy had to wonder why, but couldn’t press the query across his teeth, couldn’t tell him the reason for his own misery, it wasn’t the right time, it wasn’t the right place), entrenched, ensnared him to the here and now. He breathed a little easier, eyes shown a little brighter, and he swallowed away the choking vexation tearing down the length of his throat, turning to his best friend and allowing the smallest of smiles to trace over his mouth (not the best, not a master’s stroke, but still there, raw and real and minute). He was thankful for him, for telling the gilded fiend to shut up, for unknowingly taking him out of the abyss, for not allowing him to drown in his desolation – mulling over his tones until it settled in a firm whisper, meant entirely for Rikyn. “What do you think she’ll do?” The flicker of amusement tore through his flesh too, until one haughty wrinkle of laughter burst from him, ill-concealed, and he poised a sling of words again, out into the air, before another rush of rash delight surged through him. “I prefer the real one.”
 
The next set of appearances didn’t bother him in the least – which should’ve been unsettling since one descended as a bird and transformed into a massive filly, and the other had a peculiar accent, but his mind was warped, his heart was heavy, and he could do nothing else but laugh or break down in front of a growing crowd. A portion of Erebos simply wanted to watch whatever was going to happen next (would the girl blow her doppelganger to pieces?), but then duty called, and he grasped hold of another stick, eyes shifting briefly to the newcomers. “By all means,” mustered through his clenched ivories, before colliding to the poised stage of disaster and triumph again.

 

Image Credits


@Thranduil @Shida @Rikyn @Oizys @Yael


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Thranduil - 01-02-2017

Posting Poetics

The gold was too engrossed in his games to watch the dark prince very closely. But the dark stag by his side was not. It was his kind heart which had dragged he gold here. He watches as the eyes remain listless, and not even a flicker awakens the young stallion. It draws his eyes and mood down.
Then it gets a bit busy. Haldir tried to warn him. The stag, having been startled by the outburst of magic had taken a few steps back, and he heard the other approach before the gold. He almost though doesn’t bother as he sees a dark shape trail behind the new arrival. Large deer like ears pop up as the second explosion rocks the scene. Yet there was deer, just like him. The moon eyes glance to the gold, and back to the dark figure trailing Rikyn. Not since Ashamin had he seen one of his kind, and asking the gold to search out that stallion was like asking for the bomb to please blow. So the deer must be forgiven for his inattention to the rest of the world, as he calls to the other across the small pool.

The Laurelin, within his buckskin clothes couldn’t be bothered. This was way too much fun. The full black tail of the vixen he inhabits swishes with play and horned head tosses up with a mischievous spirit. Perhaps the other grieved through work and comradery, but the gold healed through sass, trick, and all manner of trouble. Only when the stag calls out does the blue eyes turn to look upon the dark figure of Rikyn. The vicious smile of the gold tames slightly as it sees the two princes of the north together again. He had wondered, especially after that time at the river with Rikyn, how their relationship faired. If blade brothers could really last. It seemed it could. And even the Laurelin had to admit, he was glad for it. Anything coming from those two would be a right treat to watch.

Though it appeared, neither were in the mood. “Pleasure as always Rikyn.” The gold practically laughs at it, humored so much as he was by the two and still feeling the literal explosive magic pressing in him. Begging to be used. He was just about to indulge himself once more when a screech rises from behind. His smile never even drops though as he turns to see a mirror. Or rather a mirror with the grin turned upside down.

He had never been caught red-handed. Always the creatures he borrowed clothes from either knew it or never saw it. Those who didn’t know but saw were much rarer. Then again though, you have to ask, he wasn’t exactly trying to hide it either, with his bombastic explosions. So though you may think the gold ashamed for being caught, or angered by the end of his fun, you’d be quite wrong. Not that he was looking forward to talking himself out of this, but his laughter only grew to see her worked up over it all.

The black horned head rises and tilts slightly as she demands…something. He wasn’t even sure what she wanted? An explanation? Not needed. An apology? Ha, good luck with that. A fight? She might if she asked nicely. A scene? Oh most certainly.

“Hello to you too darling!” It said in her voice but twisted in the drops and highs of the gold’s mannerisms. He turns fully to her, letting his eyes fall all over her, and showing not a bit of shame. “You’re looking especially lovely today.” on me. His grin is ever broad on her lips. He sees why she’s got some sass and spunk. How could she not with such forces rolling around within her. In truth he couldn’t find fault with her. Even if the lass decided to punch the shit out of him he’d probably still be laughing. He was just having way too much fun with this.

Haldir then sends a pulse of thought through to the gold, and it draws his eyes to merely glance at the gathering happening elsewhere. The Princes were together, and the dark prince seemed awakened, was talking. He had not time for comment or reaction to the matter, but the gold couldn’t deny some taunt string within him loosened its tension to see it.

But of course, they were here to work, not muck about in idle chit-chat. “Excuse me dearest but there is work to do.” He doesn’t wait for her to lead, he had to have a bit more fun before it was sure the girl would have enough and he’d loose this most fun ability. The Laurelin reaches back in once more, and it only took a tap, like the popping of a bubble and another explosion rocked the trunks and limbs. There wasn’t much left of the wall, shame, party was almost over. The crowned head hisses in its humor as it turns back to where the buckskin girl had been. He was well aware though, he’d needed to be careful how he asked this question. “Care to join in dearie?”


"Speech"
Tag;;
OOC;;
Identities;; Shida





Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image


@Shida
@Rikyn
@Erebos


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Shida - 01-02-2017


Shida
Delicate as FUCK



Now, alright. Alriiiiight. We live in an enchanted world of magic, and blah blah blah. I know you're all thinking, Shida, how can you be so surprised? And so i'll tell you. It's one thing to live in a world of fucked up wanna-be superhereos with their lame ass powers, flitting all around, making shit grow, making it die, becoming birds, or lighting things on fire, and it's entirely another motherfucking thing all together to see some ken-doll with a weave suddenly wearin' yo face. And ass. And fucking being you.

So yeah, I get it, magic etcetera. But this shit still isn't okay.

AND ANOTHER THING. Y AIN'T YOU MOTHERFUCKERS AS CONCERNED ABOUT THIS AS I AM. I SEE YA'LL SNICKERING AWAY OVER THERE.


Ya'll need to pipe down or else be a helluvalot more upset than you are. For now my sights are set on ... well, me. He addresses me, but the words are in my voice, only they're in a cadence I would never use. He sounds all high and mighty, like he's talking to the queen and should sip tea from a fancy china cup with his baby finger in the air, rather than chumming it in a field with us nobody's, having been given community service by a decaying fish.

He compliments me, and for a moment, I'm inclined to agree. I do look lovely. ON EVERY DAMN DAY I feel like screaming, but instead I just flare my nostrils in a way that isn't particularly flattering. Before I can work my way up to an epically witty retort, that motherfucker starts walking away, and for once I get to see what all the fuss is about.

And let me just take a teensy weensy pause to say ddaaaaaaammmn. Now I know why the boys always love to see my go so much. UNNGG. Badonkadonk.

Alright. Unpause.

"DO I LOOK LIKE A DEARIE TO YOU." Is all I can say. Do I have motherfucking grey in my hair? Am I your grandchild come to visit, and you want to know if I want some fucking tea and cookies, dearie?! I'm still shocked to have seen him use my own magic. Briefly I think about tall, dark and ugly, and wonder if he'd ever porked this facsimile, thinking it was me. "Fucker better not have." I mumble to myself as if Reginald could hear me, before striding across the field towards...well, me. 

"This world ain't big enough for two of me, so I suggest you get yourself out of my skins before I show you how to really use that magic."

Image Credits

Tagging @Roskuld in the hopes that this craziness will bring you to my rescue <33333


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Rikyn - 01-06-2017


Rikyn

"Yeah, as always," I grumble at the ground, more so than the dapper gold, rolling my eyes as I try to work and ignore him. It’s not as easy a task as it may sound; he’s a professional aggravator. Besides all that, Duir adds to the fuel, proudly standing with eyes locked, quite firmly, on Haldir, his being brimming with interest in the elder buck, though he doesn’t move to greet him, as he does most of the bonded we come across. Not sure why he doesn’t just go say hi like he does everyone else (not understanding deer hierarchy, either, of course), I don’t really bother to ask him, silently letting the distant cheer of my companion do what it can to ease the vast, dark ache in my heart while I set to toiling at Kisamoa’s task.

I will set this straight: I don’t particularly care for Thranduil’s games, either. He asks too many questions, that I don’t want to answer. He always shows up, laughing when he should be solemn, cavorting where he should be stepping gently. For my mother’s favorite, crooked consulate, life (and its unavoidable consequences) seems to be taken too lightly, especially when it comes to the flaunting of his magic; a power that I don’t think the gold has truly considered the repercussions of. Why should he have? His gift had likely been ingrained within his tissues the very moment of his birth, whereas the similar talent I desired was coming at a price. That price, however, also included lessons; lessons about the fragility of one’s existence, or how important being an individual is.

He had not dwelled in the being of an old man, once strong, and capable, now weak, and helpless, stricken with naught but time, the curse which holds us all; he had not felt his will carefully handed to another, your life without any sort of self-control. He also hadn’t, as far as I could tell, learned anything of this land, and its ways of punishing you – or, if he had, the lesson had not stuck. Still, the Laurelin cavorted in the cloaks of others as if it was all just a game, freely drinking from a well of power that might, one day, drown him.

“What do you think she’ll do?” my brother asks alongside me, his laugh sounding out shortly after, as he raises his voice to salute the angry mare and her grinning mimic. I shrug my shoulder, glancing back at the explosive situation momentarily, before moving back to removing branches.

"I’d skin him, at the very least," I smirk, the usually vibrant expression not quite reaching my empty eyes, "she can blow things up, though."

Looking up as Oizys arrives, I nod agreement to Erebos’ statement, and shuffle over for her. On a better day, I might have eyed the three-crowned youth, to assuage whether or not she was attractive (a favorite past time of mine, you see), and whether or not I might be able to convince said attractive female to spend more time with me. Young or not, now, all young unicorns grew up… However, I’m disinterested enough in the lure of power, let alone an ass I haven’t a clue what to do with.

The question of the foreign one draws another smirk to my lips, as I turn back to look at her.

"Nope. And, the less offended of the two is actually a dude," this time, I actually do snort, because, well, it’s funny; dropping the first of what I assume to be many bones in this pile at the hooves of the bird (not adverse to the notion of her doing work for me), I flatly add, "guess I’ll just put these there then."

"Hey, idiot, I’d listen to her if I were you," I call out in warning to the gold, having overheard the not-amused threats of the buckskin, and likely taking them far more seriously than he does. I really, really don’t want to have to help one idiot defend themselves from the other, but I also don’t want to bring fresh, magically blasted bones back to Kisamoa, either.


’cause we need a little controversy
@Oizys


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Oizys - 01-06-2017

AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I'D RATHER BE DANGEROUS

Her shoulder soon throbs from repeated slams against the logs, and her limbs ache with the effort. It feels good, though, focusing her mind and exerting her muscles. Exercises like these should help her when she's of fighting age - an opponent will be no match for a pile of logs and raw gargoyle strength. Being able to transform into a bear and rip their heads off should help, too.

The buckskin mare with the dual horns seems less than pleased with being confronted by her doppelganger, and Oizys can completely understand her outrage. She would be pissed as hell if somebody stole her appearance, not least because they could do all sorts of evil shit with her new magic - if she's going to get in trouble for murder or general bad behaviour, she wants to be the one who actually gets to do it. "You should blow him up," she suggests to the real Shida, narrowing her eyes at the copycat. Of course, her own magic means she adopts the appearances of others, but due to needing to drink their blood, they usually have the good decency to be dead first. Besides, they're only beasts - this guy is stealing real people's identities.

Her gaze darts between the two handsome unicorn stallions beside her, noticing how beautifully broody they both are. The strong silent type, perhaps? Right up the filly's street. She may be young, but she's still allowed to look, even if looking is all she can do for another year. For a moment she imagines the body-stealer taking her appearance and using it to engage in such carnal activities, and the thought sends an odd shudder down her spine. That would be a gross violation of her body, and she rather thinks she'd rip his eyeballs out and feed them to him if she ever found out he'd done such a thing. It seems that the original mare that he's copied is tempted to do just that, and Oizys is fully on her side. The body-stealer is utterly shameless, though, and the yearling flicks her ears backwards slightly.

An idea occurs to her, then, the tiniest creeping of a notion that makes her chuckle slightly with the vulgarity of it. "Say, copycat, question for you," she says, stopping off from her exertions for a minute to eyeball him. "What would happen if some virile man with balls like coconuts shagged you whilst you were in a mare's body? Would you get all the feels, and more importantly, what would happen if you ended up pregnant?" She flashes a wolfish grin. "Not recommending it, obviously. It'd be a disgusting violation of whoever's appearance you were stealing, but you never know, you might one day decide you want to hop on board the pork train for a change." She winks her cold grey eyes, chortling silently at her own vulgarity, whilst Ker shudders at the image and hides her head under her wing.

image credits


Speaks to @Thranduil ! @Yael


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Yael - 01-08-2017

As concerned for Shida as Yael might be, she had not the audacity to insert herself into a situation, the foolishness to put herself between explosive magic, nor the knowledge of the two the situation affected, to do any good. She can not make the copycat shed his assumed skin, and sees no reason to calm the sassy buckskin lady down. So. Best to keep one eye on the action and another eye trained to the ground for bits of white.

At least there was a bit of an explanation offered in passing (though it didn’t explain why the guy did it, at least there was a consensus between everyone else that he was in the wrong, and he deserved whatever he had coming), which piques her interest. Aside from the Giving Tree, this is the first show of real magic Yael has seen; and it is used not for helping others or ones’ self, but for trickery and fun. The foreigner will make no judgement yet, but it seems to her that the denizens of Xelovia are just like any other land; they run the gamut of kind to selfish to downright mean, she imagines. Where those mean and evil ones are hiding, she doesn’t want to find out. It is much harder to fight against the darkness when one’s only source of light is the spark inside, the fire in one’s soul.

The three-horned unicorn’s biting taunt is amusing, and Yael finds herself chuckling. Oh - that’s happened in B’kanna before; the image of stallions with their sides rounded in pregnancy, huffing and puffing about the pains of it all and how miserable they felt - well, that would never get old. If she were Queen of the Universe, she’d make all stallions carry at least one child in their lifetime - let them know exactly what happens after they mount a mare. The underestimated strength it takes to be a mother. She’s not saying it wouldn’t cut down on the number of rapes, but she’s not saying it wouldn’t, either.

With no smart remarks to contribute, the golden pegasus simply nods when bones are dropped in her vicinity, and takes a few steps towards the logs, half-heartedly pawing at the silty ground to look for bones - but it’s clearly not where her interest lies.

yael

Image | Background



[she has nothing to contribute :/ @Erebos  ]


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Roskuld - 01-09-2017

Lightning strikes every time she moves

I came to this place cuz I wanted to make sure it was being handled justly, that the glowing trees planted here wouldn’t be over-rustled, and so that maybe I could slip Pa a word or two at his shrine to see if he’d pick it up.

But nah fuck all that cuz a shit-show was underway and Chico had already beat me to the punch, having pulled a front-row seat to see the shenanigans himself. If popcorn were a thing here he’d have a Jumbo Bucket™ and a coke with it.

“Dude--” I said, watching as two versions of the same fat-assed mare bickered back and forth. They could’ve been twins, but there was an eeriness to the way they were exactly the fucking same, which killed the idea. Also, one of them was pissed to fuck, and the other smelled…weird and familiar all in the same roll, familiar in a way that smelled like another, recent prank I’d seen. With the tiniest mental prod, Chico turned my attention to the deer thing, and everything fell into place.

“Oh balls man,” I said, with an exasperated fall of my shoulders, “Why you gotta fuck with her like this, like damn.” I could see there were still a few people who were trying to pull it together, morph into a cohesive…unit, but I wasn’t sure how effective it was.

Others seemed to like the spectacle and actively egged them on, particularly this one hUGE kid who liked to uh, wax eloquent about the implications of an imposter’s female body. I felt a sick crawl all through my body as she spoke, and usually that kind of crass thing don’t bother me none, but it was all hitting too close to home to sit comfortably in my skin. “Why his balls gotta be the size of coconuts though?” I asked anyway, because I can’t just shut my damn mouth and let shit slide.

Anyway fuck it. I moved to where there was a clearing of wood ‘n shit, and I hulked my fair share--although I was just sorta biding my time honestly, waiting until to site cleared out so I can do what I came to do.

"In ornare vitae leo eu volutpat."
Chico
and Roskuld


This was the hardest thing to write and I have no clue why.


RE: we're stripped down to our skeletons again [bone collecting/cleaning] - Erebos - 01-15-2017


The Reaper wouldn’t have stayed during this nonsense. The King of the North would’ve yielded to a higher power, to a modicum of composure, to hiding the wrinkle of a smile or the gruff, coarse laughter until he was elsewhere, moderately amused by the antics of an idiot. His father hadn’t had time for too many diversions, not when the world churned and burned, not when he brewed misdeeds and calculations, not when the Siberian realm called for him to go back to its lairs.
 
But Erebos needed this ridiculous absurdity to flicker past ghosts and what ifs, to not be subjected to constant torment, to an unwavering agony blistering just along his heart, settling along his marrow (loss, loss, and more loss - when did it end?). For a few spells of time, he simply watched, maneuvering his head back and forth between all the talking occupants, struggling to decipher the meaning beyond mirth and merriment, shuffling a small amount of logs out of the pool’s reaches before becoming distracted all over again. His ears shifted to Rikyn’s words (she could blow up things, and he suddenly wondered what it would look like if the whole earth just ruptured from her power; if they could combine their forces and bestow naught but smithereens), then to the girl, who layered her statements in almost naught but crass oaths and blunt phrases. His echoing laugh was hollow, like a bark, bestowing the yearling with an arched brow and an ominous delivery. “Don’t give him any ideas,” and then he shuddered momentarily, narrowing his eyes at the disturbing image brought to life through his addled brain – Orsino uttered some feral hiss (disgusting), and they managed to sidle a little closer to Rikyn, one of the din who managed to remain tethered to sanity.
 
Another even joined; perhaps drawn to the veins by the sheer racket, by the quandaries, the curling, coiling chaos implored by jackals and Cheshires, by the vivid mass of confusion and vulgarity. He studied her for a moment too (quite different from anyone he’d ever seen), quiet and methodical, while she spilled out more questions than answers  – and they were merely left picking up pieces of inaction. The boy waited, stupefied and torn between saying something to push them into convictions of disaster and upheaval, or to drive it all away, lull them back into calm, dignified ambitions. The bones felt entirely forgotten, resting amidst the eaves and lava flows, almost no longer a noteworthy piece of conversation along spellbinding glimpses of the ludicrous.
 

Image Credits

@Thranduil @Shida @Rikyn @Oizys @Yael @Roskuld