.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
06-20-2014, 10:14 AM
take a look in the mirror - see the truth in your face She arrives at the appropriate hour, the verdant valley spreading its wide green belly through the picturesque and watching mountains, spying the Reaper atop the highest hillock in the center of the herd. It was not her usual place to hold such things, preferring the lake or, since the Sentinel’s completion, beneath his tall, leaning shadow to hold her words with those she shared her home with, but Deimos had selected the area of the land more commonly known to host such gatherings beneath the rule of her Empress and the fallen Lord of Snow, Mauja, and she had come to fill the vale with words alongside him. It wasn’t that she particularly cared for the Lord, still; she still saw too many flaws in his persona to suitably fill the voids she felt were left in his silence and rancorous aura, but he had done well by her and the Basin since the throne of her sister was stolen by both the shadow on the knoll and the man who had sired the boy who trails after her, excitement rippling in every inch of his body as he arrives to hear the words of the rulers of the mountain. He is used to his mother’s commanding atmosphere, the way she pulls the strings around her and bends her words, but he has never met the Lord of Death, and so he stands a fair distance before the dark one as his mother directs him, watching the golden Lady rise to her place alongside Deimos. And then, it begins; first with a summons and then to the throbbing rhythm of their arrival, the myriad faces of the mountain realm of the unicorns, and the Lady all the while smiles sweetly and arches her neck and figure to appear as flawless as she might, golden eyes sparkling benignly and platinum armor gleaming and illuminated in the summer sun bleeding through the chilly atmosphere of the north. When Deimos’ voice no longer sweeps forward, his eyes glance towards her, their blue depth met for the briefest of moments before she returns them outwards towards her kin. "These changes, our growth and our strength, inspire my heart and fill it with more pride for our people than I had ever dreamed would come to me," she begins, looking from one face to the other, knowing each by name and service, a strand of memories and bonds that, while she is callous and does not truly appreciate the spiritual value of her comrades, insights true pride in her for that they have withstood each challenge presented them and rode victorious over those jagged peaks, "we are strong, a true family, and I seek to honor our prowess though a celebration of that which holds our kin together; the horn. An Aurora Festival, held beneath the colored lights of the Lord of Storms, in which all the unicorns in Helovia may dance and find merriment among one another, a communion of our species to honor that which binds our herd as one." Her smile is dreamy, golden eyes hazy in light of the visions which sweep her, the thoughts of colored taffeta caught in the chilly tendrils of the mountain winds as Frostfall sipped lightly on the umber and crimson world of the fall, a celebration of their home and their people, that which they could achieve together and the splendid perfection that was their whole. "As the meeting is concluded, those interested in participating in the celebration’s preparations may follow me. I would ask Torleik and the Weavers to accompany me, as well," she glances to the General, her eyes questioning in the slightest way, wondering if he will adhere to his prior statements that the story of their herd could be translated into song; it would be quite fine to spend the evening dancing and laughing to the sounds of their victories and origins, "in pertinence to decorations and song." The silence slips into her words, sweet and short lived as a flower’s life in ice, golden eyes closing for a brief moment before they return to those gathered before her, focusing on the white haired stallion who had called himself the Disciple. "Zikar-Sin, at the availability of yourself and either of the Weavers, there is a project to be discussed which requires your bond to the mirror and the God within. Seek each other out as you find appropriate," she broadens her gaze, sweeping it across each face in turn, "as to the rest of you, my brothers, my sisters… continue to grow, and flourish. Bring honor to the mountain and the God of Shock, push yourself towards your limits and teach others what you have learned on your life’s path." |
