Яikyn Something about today feels… important. While I was not sure precisely what it was that makes me feel this way, I allow the curious urge to continue onwards to lead me. At first, it was what some would call a “mosey,” slow, ambling, eyes wandering all about for something interesting, but my walk soon had gathered pace. The world floats by at a swift canter, the spring smells buffeting my face, sending invigorating tremors through my skin as the Sun melts away the Earth’s meager keeping of snow. Mud puddles explode beneath me, splatter the still plush lining of my coat with murky gray brown – I charge onward. To where? Who knows? I rarely ever do; I just go where my feet take me. The hillocks of the Thistle Meadow pour into little clusters of trees, their branches barely tinged with the vibrant green of spring. To the North, I can imagine the Basin blooming, its wildflowers and bees humming, the bears slowly ambling from their caverns; here, here is a different sort of green than there. Here the green is rich and verdant. It does not struggle against stone, ice, and wind, but thrives; rooted precisely where grass would chose to be rooted, if it had a choice in where its seed landed. To the east, the Sun rises, casts long, lemon rays across the whole world in a pastel spill. He burns to my left, the same side still emblazoned with burns from an encounter not so far away, the irony not lost as I let a youthful laugh break from me, hind legs kicking out in a buck. I am alive! I want to shout at the God, the clatter of my hooves gathering beneath me as I bolt into a gallop the resonating battle cry of the soul my lips refrain from belting. I am alive and you and your behemoth pegasi cannot stop me! The snow melt, as minimal as it was, seems to have wreaked some of its usual mayhem as I crest a large hill. The next ridge over cuts off at the middle point, dropping down in a sheer line to the ground, which is littered in the grass and earthy debris that had been the rounded shape of its other face; the sudden stop I apply causes dirt and strands of green growth to fly erratically outwards, my body sliding, pivoting, hind legs the anchor, so that I somewhat slide to a halt, parallel to the dilapidated edge of the hill. It feels an awful like a podium, this hill; like the rocky outcropping that Deimos uses to command the herd from, the same which my mother had stood atop, and decreed her laws. My ears lift, my eyes sparkle, my tail takes on the bouncy sway and curve of a mind enraptured by the game it plays. Turning back to stand abreast that hillock like the Prince I am, I lift my crown, proudly wearing the Sun as a garment across my burn laden skin. It glints off the bronze plating of my shoulder as the wind tousles through my tangled locks again, the Meadows sprawling out and away, reaching into trees, into the blue line of the sea, and the black, tangled masses of the cursed land. [ - All members are strongly encouraged to participate, as they will otherwise be excluded from the selection of Leadership roles within the group, and will miss out on other key information. - Characters who have not previously expressed interest are welcome, including those simply interested in overhearing. However, I ask that all members please be respectful of our group, and seriously consider whether or not you really need to be there. This is mostly an option I've left available so that characters who may require some IC prodding towards the group can meander in. - We will be discussing who our Leaders will be, as well as introducing our political system. There will be the introduction of missions as well as individual characters, and plot opportunities! - Never hesitate to ask questions here, on skype, or via PM! ] the night for thieves. |
[OPEN] the day is for honest men [First Official Order Meeting!]
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05-06-2016, 08:22 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-31-2016, 11:16 AM by Rikyn.
Edit Reason: switching tables as the one i started with has issues. removed the tags!
)
05-16-2016, 05:24 PM
05-18-2016, 08:26 PM
Själ
Själ could almost imagine that they were twins. The pair were nigh inseparable, had been since... after. For the most part, the princess enjoyed Nymeria's company in a way that she had never enjoyed anyone else before; but to a tiny piece of her, it was about more than that. It was about loyalty, protection, camaraderie. It was about kindness and affection, easily given and more easily received. It was about love (though she could not name it as that, having had such little experience with it). It was about friendship and togetherness and all of the things that she had longed for, but never found. Nymeria had become something precious to her, something that she would live or die for. It was not an obsession, not quite; it was a deep, soul-bending bond that had been irrevocably built that day in the Secret Grove, cemented in the Deep Forest. Despite some instinct within that warned her to run away, not to trust, that she would end up broken and despairing, Själ placed her loyalty in the wolf-mare, her belief in their bond stronger than any doubt. She knew that betrayal was possible, that it was a risk that she placed upon herself -- but that Nymeria would ever jeopardize their friendship was a possibility that she could not even conceive of. It was laughable. Almost. When the pair found themselves upon the edges of the meadow, the princess flashed a brilliant smile to her partner, hopeful that the wolf-mare's mood would be a pleasant one. "Nym," the girl began brightly, playfully, the blossoming of excitement evident in her shining amber eyes "want to race?" And then, without waiting for an answer, she was off, laughing over her shoulder as she gestured for her friend to follow. It was childish and meaningless, but it was a distraction -- one that, gods willing, Nymeria would partake in as effortlessly as her counterpart. It wasn't about the race, after all. It was about the freedom of running. The wind blustered through the girl's mane, weaving and winding it into thicker strands, tangling it into a ratty mess upon her nape. Her eyes roamed the horizon, on the lookout for danger -- always, always watching now, after -- guiding the way to wherever they wanted to go. The princess was gentle and tender for Nymeria, offering a side of herself that no one else would ever see; it was subtle, impossible, perhaps, to discern from the girls' points of view. But we, dear reader, can recognize differences when we see them. And what we see now is a pretty mare trying desperately to provide happiness for the one soul she cares for in this darkened world. She came upon the hill almost by accident, and realized only just in time that perhaps it would be better for her to stop before she flew right by it. Hers was a sliding stop, the kind of halt that tore up weeds and grasses from the dirt beneath her hooves. She peered up the hill sheepishly at the figure atop it, cocking her head quizzically as she recognized the boy. (Well, at least he wasn't a threat, even if he was a bit full of himself, best she remembered.) Not far from her stopping place stood a girl, not much older than Själ, watching Rikyn in silence with a smile on her face. They almost seemed to be waiting for something, and suddenly curiosity was bubbling at the princess's throat. "Rikyn," she greeted the boy with a polite nod. And then, joining the duo in their silence, she waited, hoping that Nymeria would have arrived beside her. There was something about the wolf-mare's presence that calmed her, and she didn't want to be in the Meadow with Rikyn and the nameless mare alone. "Speak." --Ansgar.-- OOC | @Nymeria and Själ are coming in together, so I have permission from Wanda to semi-PP that. :3 Pixel by Reli <3 Please tag Själ in all replies. Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times. Want to plot with Själ? Visit her plot page here!
Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise Tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised
They are together.
For now, that is all that matters. It is a miracle, an impossibility (like trees spreading roots in the vacuum of space, leaves rustling in a non-existent breeze, greenery in a wasteland) and the bond that buds from decay and decrepitude is something to marvel at. Nymeria didn’t know how good it could feel, how pure and simple the bond between them could be: it was shelter in a sandstorm, holding hands in the rain, furtive glances and lingering touches—it was not sexual, not sensual, but romantic in the way that having that one friend could be. Utter security. Passion. Admiration. Respect. Reliability.
The days they spent together were long and strangely happy, spent finding whimsy in the forest and secrets in the fields. They were excuses for Själ to watch Nymeria, and for Nymeria to better know Själ. It was not an easy task—they had a long way to go yet—but as the sun rose and fell a little bit of Nymeria returned each day.
It hasn’t been long enough, Nym thought sadly. We need more time.
And yet she recognized that she needed to return to the Falls soon. No matter what feelings lingered (and oh, how many of them lingered) she had, determined-step-by-determined-step, recovered enough of herself to know she should advance with her goals, her ambitions. These would be best achieved by hard work and loyalty—not by frolicking in the fields.
(... You have all the time in the world, she would sometimes think: and then she would think of Volterra and Isopia and her heart would twinge. Not if you want to beat your brother.)
Someday, one day, she should tell Själ about Volterra. She had confided in Isopia; Själ was already closer to her than tükör arca had ever been... except she didn’t want to. Her mind was emotionally damaged enough without reopening old wounds.
Nym, the unicorn said to her, and Nym turned her head, encouraged by Själ’s earnest tone. There was a lovely brightness to Själ’s gaze; it forced a smile upon her mouth, upturning her lips in poetic cheer. Want to race?
Then she was off, her legs a smear of black ash against green grass. Nymeria (wolf-mare) gives chase, exhilarated by the easy rhythm of motion. Her hooves pound against soil, tearing deep scores into the earth (notes and quarter notes and eighth notes flickering up and down), and she stretches out to full length, her knees snapping high, her stride long and ground-eating. It is a pleasant excuse to shed weightier concerns, to let the mind hone in on the simple and yet important task of running straight as an arrow (no ankle-twisting, no leg-breaking, no lollygagging.)
They stop in a swirl of long hair (knotted, curled, and straight), Nymeria digging her heels in—stopping just barely in time to prevent collision. Red eyes flicker upwards, running over a dainty, opalescent unicorn; then they swing away suspiciously, coming to rest upon the king of the hill.
At her side Själ offers the king a greeting, nodding her head courteously. Nym’s brows arch upwards; her nostrils quiver, then flare, her lips drawing to a thin and pointed line. The name that Själ drew out was not the name she had been given following their spar on the beach. “Rikyn?” She doesn’t quite demand but her voice takes on a sharper note. “I didn’t think your name was Rikyn.”
Then she glances around again, caution forcing her eye to comb over her surroundings. There was a certain majesty, a certain feeling to the air—the sort that made her both uneasy and anticipatory at once.
05-23-2016, 02:58 PM
On purple daggers, Zandora left the icy fortress behind. She was tired, oh so tired of the constant reminders of her failures, her mistakes, her miseries. She left her child behind, the cursed child that wanted nothing to do with her except only when blood poured from her limbs, when Zandora bled for Cortana's life. Zandora supposed it was some twisted, dark metaphor, that only she could get wished upon her. Her life had taken a violent turn to hopelessness, and the vixen wanted no more of it. She would build her muscle, would build her reputation, she would forget emotion, leave the shatters of her demonic past to choke and burn in the hell she was created from, and would become the epitome of power. There would be no other option, Zandora will become the Zandoralia she once was, and there wasn't going to be anyone that could stop her. She would rise a fallen angel, burned and blacked wings now repaired with the lust of something better. Rikyn had told her about his plan, and like she said she would, the shadow mare came. A few had beaten her to the arrival, but none she knew. Soon though, these elite few would no longer be strangers. Evara stands by her hooves, the cat's green eyes calculating and curious. The companion was like her bonded--skeptical and untrustworthy. Assuring Evara that out of the few people Zandora trusted, Rikyn wasn't one to doubt. Letting her eyes fall upon the black and gold, she looks him over. Zandora had noticed the change in him, the childish curves had disappeared into strong, hard lines, Rikyn wasn't the boy she once remembered. Here he now stood, a king on his hill, armor glistening and begging for his voice to be heard. With a dip of her head, the woman offered him her silence so that he may share. Let the games begin. OOC:
05-23-2016, 06:16 PM
05-24-2016, 09:24 PM
If it was one thing the gold could never resist it was a growing gathering. Coming through the meadow in the morning, leaving his fog covered recluse he spies a shape upon the hill far off, and others gathering round it. At this the golden stops. His head turns to check the timing of the day, looking to the position of the sun, then back to the distance gathering with a head tilt. What on earth could be causing a stir this time of morning. ”Find out?” The voice whispers from next to him. The crowned head turns to the side, with a grin. Haldir stood looking sharp in his spring coat. For once the deer’s mood matched the golden’s. His sense of curiosity carrying over the usual barriers of decency and justice. ”Of course.” Now it wasn’t any fun to go gallivanting up-wait that was fun. The golden gives a laugh, but continues. It wasn’t in his usual style to go charging up-oh wait yeah it was. That gains another snicker. Shaking his head though he reaches back into the satchel at his side. From this he pulls one of his most prized possessions, although, let’s be real, they all were prized. But this one was especially unique. Over his back a cloak of black flings, and his form then shivers and vanishes like dust on the breeze. This was more like it. Shaking his head the gold looks to Haldir again. The stag was looking blankly at the ground, where hoof’s still made imprints. The gold grinned, and set off with his deer trailing. The stag eventually lot the site of the hoofprints, and instead too his own path, coming to stop near the edge of the clearing. So far, none here but the caller of the group, Rikyn, knew him, which he found amusing. So he only looks over disinterestedly and grazes, but his ears were ever attentive. The gold meanwhile was planning to get and up close view. Not one to be caught often among the masses he moved up the small hill, and came to a halt just behind the young prince. Though the gold would have to admit as he looked over the Gilded’s son he was growing, and had the marks to prove it. An invisible brow raised to see the sizeable burn upon the poor boy’s shoulder. Bet that hurt. Wonder what foolish act caused that. Then a familiar voice echoes the colt’s name and the gold looks out to the crowd. Nymeria. A grin rose on his lips. He was glad to see her for after all they were, friends. And then there was Zandora….not the most pleasant mare he’d ever met. A few others were gathered as well but none he knew. Still it seemed everyone was a bit wary of who exactly was who. The golden stifled a chuckle to hear Nymeria question the prince’s name. It seemed the colt was more like his mother than the gold would give him credit for. Though it was clear by his stand and puffed out chest that he was no longer comparable to her. The gold’s grin curled into a smirk. No, this was the start of something new. The air was humming with it. OOC:: I MADE IT. He's standing beside Rikyn, and Haldir is a bit off grazing. I don't think anyone here has met him though except Rikyn. "speech" @Rikyn Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him. Please tag in every post. Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
05-26-2016, 12:23 PM
when I tell you that i love you
don't test my love accept my love, don't test my love cause maybe i don't love you all that much
05-30-2016, 11:45 AM
05-30-2016, 05:20 PM
05-31-2016, 12:36 PM
@Raeru @Sjal @Nymeria @Zandora @Thranduil @Misael @d'Arcy @Raeden @Oultik
06-20-2016, 08:38 AM
It turned out the dark prince was just as fast on his tongue as his heritage promised him. The gold beside the other watched with the most laid back of gazes. He was quite happy to sit back and enjoy his friend Nymeria give the lad another scoff on his shoulder (might even add his own marks to the fray). But it seemed the prince was well adapt at slipping through hands. Or maybe it was a lesson taught by that scar. Haldir on the edge looked up to the crest of the hill, his moon eyes turning over the scene for signs of the gold. But even to his eye the bonded was nowhere but in his mind, quietly humming about his thoughts. Dark tipped antlers shake and turn back to halfhearted grazing, though ears still trailed the group. As the gold stood by watching he noted, in his usual habit the details of all. The three names the prince alludes, the other females hanging by, and momentum building. When the colt shrugs off his charges, and speaks to it as fun, the golden finds himself grinning all the more. Yes, that was more like it. It was a pity then that Rikyn always seemed to think of ill of the gold, look how much they had in common. It was a shame all the world didn’t think more like this. It was a shame as well, that those who did share this….philosophy, rarely got together. Tasseled tail swings silently at his hocks, waiting, but the gathering seems to hang for a moment. Grin sidles into a smirk and he steps over to the dark prince’s ear. Perhaps he’d shove it awake again. His whisper hisses out low, but playful. “Get on with it.” Then he chuckles. “You’re a terrible flirt.” The gold watches the grown colt carefully, to sidestep any attention. He had many times whispered into an unsuspecting ear. Some would jump others sink with realization. It was always a very telling moment. And a good laugh. OOC:: "speech" @Rikyn Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him. Please tag in every post. Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
07-01-2016, 10:11 PM
Själ
The two of them stopped as one, as Själ had known that they would; had she mistrusted Nymeria's ability to control her own body, she would not have run so quickly nor stopped so suddenly. The ability to rely so completely on another was foreign to her, strange and new and wonderful. For too long, the princess had been on her own, in body and in spirit; to have found someone with whom to share her days, to give bits and pieces of her shattered soul - it was satisfying in a way that she could not explain. For the first time, she felt understood and cared for. That it would have to come to an end was an inevitability that she ignored completely.
And so they stopped to stare at Rikyn, and as others appeared and gathered (as though they were all in on a secret that neither she nor Nymeria were privy to), Själ found herself in possession of his great secret. As Nymeria questioned his name, the princess found herself grinning, pleased to have surprised the There was a strange feeling in the air, an excited tension that had the girl intrigued. What were they all gathered for? Still, whatever, the reason, Själ had to admit that Rikyn had a point. How many times had she found it beneficial to be untruthful - even if by omission? As words were spoken and names exchanged, the princess simply waited. Perhaps, if she stood still and watched expectantly, something else interesting would come of this meeting. "Speak." --Ansgar.-- @Nymeria and @Rikyn since she directly interacted with them! Pixel by Reli <3 Please tag Själ in all replies. Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times. Want to plot with Själ? Visit her plot page here!
Please tag in all posts, all force is permitted
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