[O] Can only make it grow [Clearing] - 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] Can only make it grow [Clearing] (/showthread.php?tid=26084) |
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Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Syrena - 01-02-2017
Syrena
let the water take me
She comes here, because it is always where she comes. Today, she will not be standing with her feet halfway in the sea, but she owes it to the beach to start here. This place was home more than any other in Helovia. Yes, she lived in the Falls, but the sea was always her home, and here she could touch it. So she makes her way from where Kisamoa stands to the outskirts of the marshes, figuring someone might join her, but not really caring if they didn’t. Eventually, she finds a good place to start. It almost shames her to realize how little attention she’d paid to this part of the beach. But she always went straight over the sands to the edge of the water. Had she ever really looked at what else was around her? But she’s looking now. The bones of creatures she didn’t recognize littered the ground, mixed with dead vegetation and fallen, rotten logs. The smell was terrible. For a moment, she almost leaves. But she doesn’t. She tries to breath less through her nose though, thinking all the while that it was a shame her magic wouldn’t bring all the dead seaweed back to life. But she could only make it grow. So she trudges into the water, still cold though not unpleasant. Where the muck touches her skin, blues and greens and purples blossom on her skin. Syrena has no magic to help here, no wings or horns. Just her feet and her nose and her mouth and it all smells like hell so basically, feet. And shoulder, for the larger things. She starts with the smaller things, collecting dead plants and seaweed and shoving them into a large pile, slowly clearing the water. And she finds bones, she begins to make a pile which she’d eventually figure out how to get back to Kisamoa. Probably a whole lot of trips wanting to gag with bones in her mouth. But for now, she doesn’t think about it, but just keeps piling them up. As the smaller objections are cleared away, she begins to turn her attention to the larger driftwood, using her shoulders to shove it too clear of the marshes. Even with half of Helovia clearing all this crap away, this seemed like a hell of a task. It was going to take for damn ever. "words" darya87 | larfsalot on deviantart Open to anyone who feels like joining her! RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Tarik - 01-02-2017
RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Iona - 01-05-2017
@Syrena @Tarik COULDN'T RESIST SRY. RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Syrena - 01-06-2017
Syrena
let the water take me
It isn’t long before a voice cuts into her peace. Not quite the ‘and quiet’ part of that, since there are others around working in small and large groups. But for a brief moment she was alone with her thoughts and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. But she is not surprised that another finds her. At least half of Helovia, maybe more, were out cleaning up the dead things for Kisamoa. Some grumbled about it, some proclaimed not to trust him, and yet here they were anyway. His question almost makes her laugh, and not at it, but because it’s a rather valid question. Instead, she settles with turning her head to find the source of the voice. A stallion with dreadlocks and beads in his mane and tail. Okay then. Helovia never ceases to amaze her. There was a full on sea-horse running around, her, horses with wings in all thw wrong places, and many strange things. But he might take the cake. Maybe because he is otherwise so very normal. He whistles like he’s impressed, though she doubts he is. It’s a tiny little pile really, because she’d be avoiding anything she couldn’t kick with her hoof. Sticking bones in her mouth was just highly unlikely. Before she has a chance to respond, another voice cuts in there, answering his question. Again, she turns to find the source of the sound. A black and white mare she does not know, but who comes to join them and throws herself to work. Acceptable. The mare’s next words are all sass and for a brief moment, a flicker of a smile appears on Syrena’s lips. It feels strange there, and anyone looking would probably assume they just saw something. It comes and goes so quickly, the muscles too unpracticed to hold such a thing, the mare too stony on the outside. But it is there for a moment, and that is something. It’s quite a lot, actually. “Syrena,” she offers, largely to the mare who’s she decided she likes, but somewhat to the stallion as well. Her next comments are directed toward him, however. She has not yet decided about him, but she doesn't dislike him. There's something in those sea blue eyes that makes her suspect she will, in fact, like him. Though that may only extend so far to a shared love for the sea, but she does not yet know this. “There are often rewards,” she says in that pretty yet deadpan voice, two things so very incongruous together. But that is her in a nutshell. She swirls a hoof through some particularly foul water, letter the dead plants gather on her now blue and purple leg before unceremoniously dumping them into the pile of dead things. “Greed is a powerful motivator.” "words" darya87 | larfsalot on deviantart @Iona - you should never resist! @Tarik RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Tarik - 01-17-2017
RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Syrena - 01-21-2017
Syrena
let the water take me
She doesn’t mind the smell of the seashore that lingers on him. The rest of the smell maybe, some it’s largely sea so it’s fine. The mare that joined them seems to remain silent as they work, which doesn’t really bother Syrena. She’s perfectly fine with the quiet, though she didn’t mind the company that had managed to find her. A sassy mare who hopefully wouldn’t give two shits about Syrena’s normally deadpan nature, and a stallion that reeked of the sea. There was worse company to keep. The stallion introduces himself as Tarik. She nods, tucking that name into the ever-growing inventory of them. She kept forgetting names about as quickly as she tucked them away, pretending that she might actually remember all of them. If she remembered a third, that’d pretty much be a miracle. She keeps working, plucking at dead things with her hoof and clearly not enjoying the work. But the water needs them, and she will work for that. She will earn her place among her siren sisters one day. The stallion seems even less inclined to get dirty, as the black mare put it. But whatever, she doesn’t really care. Well, sort of. The growing pile of bones catches her attention just as the stallion takes a swing of something from the flask he carries. And then offers it to them. “Does that flask magically produce a way to carry these bones back?” she asks, assuming it doesn’t, but hoping he might jump in and find a way to get that back. Driftwood, maybe, if she can find a piece large enough. Because in truth, it was beginning to look reasonably clean in their area, but they needed to get the bones back. “What’s even in that?” she asks, not saying no. Not that she’s letting anything get as loose as the stallion probably wants. But she might admit to be curious. She listens as she keeps working, clearing dead things and she scouts about for some driftwood, finally finding a suitably large piece. She kicks it back to the pile of bones in a terribly haphazard way, and then begins scooting the bones onto the wood. "words" darya87 | larfsalot on deviantart @Tarik RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Iona - 01-21-2017
@Syrena @Tarik THE POOPIEST OF POSTS. RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Tarik - 01-21-2017
RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Syrena - 01-21-2017
Syrena
let the water take me
She certainly isn’t one to assume that being a man is what makes anyone a bad conversationalist. Have you met her? She’s a terrible conversationalist. Helovia has forced her to learn, and she’s far better than she was a few years ago. Even a year ago, really. She remembers all too well standing on the beach scaring the hell out of a stallion that supposedly also lives in the Falls, telling him of sea monsters and how she used to be one. That story never went over well, and she’s stopped talking of sirens. Mostly. In truth, she doesn’t talk of anything that she doesn’t have to. They talk of dead things and bones and drinking, which to both Iona and Tarik’s points, might be the only way to make this entire task bearable. If she could actually control the water plants, and not just make them grow, she could wander down the streams and rivers letting the plants pass the bones for them. But she can’t. She can just make a whole lot of really long seaweed. Which did them no good, because that would probably die too and then they’d have to clean it up. The black mare introduces herself as Iona, and again, Syrena tucks that name away in a place where she may or may not recall it later. Nothing personal, but after all, she forgot the name of her own Czarina. To Syrena’s tiny bit of credit, it had been quite some time since she’d seen the mare, who’d also been invaded while ruling the herd. So, there was that. She did know the names of her two current monarchs at least. She likes Tarik’s answers, the roundabout one and the straightforward one, appreciating the humor even if she doesn’t laugh or quirk a smile. But she glances over at him, which is about as much acknowledgment of the humor that he’s likely to get. Her ocean eyes sparkles a bit though, like the sun hitting the water. When he offers the flask again, she takes it, taking a swig of the stuff that burns like hell on the way down. After a moment though, in which she is oh-so-thankful that she wears a stone mask for a face, because the fire-burn in her throat doesn’t reach her expression, the fire turns to a warmth that simply spreads through her limbs. A feeling she both loves and hates all at once. But maybe, she could get used to it. There’s something pleasant about it, and she revels for a moment in feeling good, debating another swig. “Here’s to our backs,” she says, handing the flask back and curious if Iona will in fact drink as well. Then she turns back to the pile of bones and stares for a moment. She couldn’t very well kick it back to Kisamoa. “Maybe we can float it back?” Maybe the streams and rivers would connect enough they could avoid too much kicking across the land. "words" darya87 | larfsalot on deviantart @Tarik @Iona RE: Can only make it grow [Clearing] - Iona - 01-21-2017
@Syrena @Tarik |