| Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
wanda |
It is discrete, the tension that seeps and oozes from his charcoal bodice, but she notices it nonetheless, acknowledges it without word or question, marveling at his noble acceptance. She watches his lips curl into a leer more than smile, and her own vile grin crawls over mouth and muzzle; ocher lips unraveling over foaming teeth, pleased with him and his wise decision. Audits flick, faint surprise warming her features as sound of languorous 'sister' pealing from those rich vocals, a headiness blossoming in her chest. Eyelids hood over glistening orbs, and she cocks her head in curiosity, before shaking free the questions that cling unnecessarily to the insides of her skull.
"Flawed I may be, but never do I let fall those I can call brother." Toxic declarations and affirmations fall sinuous and slippery from between yellow teeth, but there is iron conviction embedded in her sly song. "I doubt you are meant to simply follow- perhaps it is just me, but I think that through your blindness, you can see what others cannot."
There is a rustle of hair over skin, and, on guard as she is, her head jerks up, nostrils flaring wide to test the air for dangers- and then her golden eye views him bowing his crown to her, the needle points of his obsidian horns touching to the snow. It is not what she expects; Mongrel's thoughts throw her back to the scornful faces of the Asylum, the cruel simpers of Seele and Eris, their continuous idiocy. And with a twitch of her shoulders, she cuts off the kitsune's persistent memories, and despite the faint pleasure at such recognition, she says to him: "Do not bother yourself with that sort of respect; family need no..." she hesitates, mouth opening but no words coming, to explain this strange humility storming into the mountainscapes of her strange and ethereal mind. "
Confutatis notes the lag in his step, allowing her to move just slightly forward, and her hearts gives a stuttering leap. She can sense Mongrel's disbelief- isn't this what she wants? Leadership? Isn't she power-hungry and ambitious, driven and determined?
Seizing the moment, she draws ahead.
"It is wonderful to meet you, Morir." Lady Death declares, raven to crow, and there is sincerity in her voice. An ear turns to him at his askances, queries and questions; she is quiet, as she mulls over what she knows.
"You have come to a world named Helovia. Here, magic runs rampant through the bloodstreams of beasts, unpredictable and fickle. One may show no outward sign of magics dangerous or helpful; others may wear it upon their coat and around them, such as myself with the acid that drips from my mouth. I have heard of magic appearing from nowhere, to give itself over to the most worthy; but more often, it is given by gods." There is a pause. "Gods do exist here, exemplifying traits from all three breeds of equines: pegasus, unicorn, and equine. There are four, the God of Time and Spark, the Goddess of the Dark and the Wind, the God of the Light and Flame, and the God of Earth and Water. Each represent two elements. Thousands of different types of magic can manifest depending on which elements they are produced from. Every once and a while, they will appear in Helovia, to bestow upon the divine gifts; they will choose a worthy individual, and will send them to quest, to show they are willing to work for what they wish to achieve."
Companions? "There is not only magic, but companions. Companions may be organisms of mythical origin or everyday; wolf, lion, dragon, kitsune, to name a few, which bond telepathically to their equine counterpart. Those of mundane birth may be quested for."
She hums softly.
Mongrel flits back to their side.
"There are four herdlands, each with a patron god. Should the Regime grow enough, we will need to acquire one; for one or another reason, any territory of the Wilds will be unable to hold sustainable numbers of equines. I have heard the strongest herd used to be in the north, living in a place called the Aurora Basin; unicorns like yourself. To the South is the Dragon's Throat, which, I believe, was ruled mainly by pegasi, although equines and unicorns could join. The World's Edge I know nothing of; the Foothills was owned by a strong-hearted medic and a sluttish spy." The disbanding. The fall of the separate empires. "But as darkness consumed Helovia, all herds were forced to flee. I do not know if many retain the same allegiances, or if the same leaders will arise from the shadows, should they ever fade."
And yet there was still more.
"There are outcast bands; one in particular, the Asylum, which contains lunatics. I am afraid I have a poor relationship with them, to speak kindly. I should think they would have secured a herdland soon, if not for this vile darkness... they are lead by two mares, Seele and Eris. When I needed them most, captured by an equine named Kipp, they left me to escape by my own means and accused me of betrayal."
"Do you need more?" She queries politely, wondering if she has satisfied Morir's thirst for knowledge; it is clear she has grown far more companionable since his acceptance of her poorly thought out invitation.
CONFUTATIS
and when you meet me, you at long last acquaintance yourself with death in all its magnificent glory.
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