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10-18-2015, 11:58 AM
Helovia had the uncanny ability to harbor the most unusual of things. Some were scattered, bitter remains and remnants of yesteryears gone by: tranquil bits of nothings, memories cast alongside broken barbs and rueful delusions. Others were shards of the mystique: otherworldly ambitions and invocations driven across vast plains, dousing and soaking kingdoms full of riches, acrimonies, or irreverence. Then, there were the beasts housed within various sovereigns, toasting to good fortunes or boasting their talents, their wonders, or their fantasies - driven to great heights or fascinating lows. Erebos had come across the strange, the serene, the curious, and the frustrating. He’d woven his own unique spells, of ebullience, of glee, of euphoria, or treated them to lies, pretenses, and fabrications, bit over the antics of the foolish and risen to the intricacies of pride. He’d gone to great lengths to discover arrays of knowledge, to become wise in hopes of driving lands apart, he’d searched high and low and fostered incredible determination in the perils, in the follies, of his short journey – but he’d never, ever, seen something quite like this. There was a white and red unicorn sitting in a pile of fleece. From a few yards away, both he and Orsino considered their options and questions from a nearby clump of pine and bushes. There were possibilities that the creature was a lunatic, stark raving mad, gathering up wool and textures for whatever reason he deemed fit. There were chances that they could greet, ascertain, and inspect another inhabitant of the Basin – he seemed familiar but between all the faces and figures of everyone contained within the icy threshold, the prince was left with no name to this memorable fiend. But what on earth was he doing with so much material? And where did it come from? Did he slay something for it? Was it someone else’s pelt? While Erebos yearned to delve deeper into the mysteries, Orsino, blunt and keen and harsh, shook his head once, grumbling all the while. Not go see! Weird weird. Smell strange. The scion rolled his eyes and continued staring at the unicorn, curiosity getting the better of him. Perhaps, eventually, it would snag around his throat and proclaim him dead, but for that particular instant, it only made him shuffle out of their chosen thicket and into the summer plain. The sable kitsune hissed and pouted, glaring at him from the underbrush, refusing to advance from his hiding place, as the child roamed closer and closer, insatiably concerned and inquisitive. His voice bellowed as he advanced, full of cheer, full of inquiry, gesturing with a warm, fixated grace. “Hello!” He paused, nearing, tilting his head into minute fractions. “What are you going to do with all of that?” The blue boy then lowered his skull, touching one puff of fleece to his maw and enjoying the soft, layered texture of benevolence it seemed to proffer – and all at once it dawned on him that perhaps this was one of the Weavers, sanctioned to christen threads and stitch them into necessities. With a winsome grin, he returned to his former position, proud and calculating and cunning, bestowing cheer through devilry and amusement. “I’m Erebos! Are you a crafter?” OOC;; --- TAG;; @[ ] "talk talk talk" |
- table by Niki -
