"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
"You're not happy here."
For a moment longer Mauja looked out across the land far below, white shoulder propped against the deep, ancient rocks of the mountain. On the horizon, beyond the narrow pass, he could almost make out myrkdalurinn. Slowly, one black-rimmed ear flicked back, and with a sigh he turned from the watch post to look at his brother. Sarazheha was watching him with that keen, concerned look Mauja had grown terribly familiar with as of late. When had his little brother grown up to become so wise, so sensitive?
While you were busy becoming a monster.
"If the Heimasborg were a fire, you're leaning away from it, not into its warmth."
"I'm not their hero, Sara."
Soul and eyes filled up with blue... not even in the midst of the battle, the fire in his veins and the bone-shaking roar of the Magnar, had it released him. When had he become this tired old thing? Someone had stolen the heart out of his chest, and bit by bit he'd slipped into darkness, floundering, unable to find his feet. The weight of the world lay heavy across his shoulders; home was nowhere. This was home, in many ways, and yet it wasn't—had stopped to be all those years ago.
"Oh, but you are," Sara replied, his voice so warm in the cold, cold world. Dark and elegant, Mauja's little brother came closer, reaching up to tug at his white mane. "You're just not your own hero, Mauja."
Mauja grimaced, but said nothing. A moment later the faint hope in Sarazheha's eyes dulled, and the black stallion sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if you've stopped trying..."
The words were a mumble, a rush of warm air against his neck, but for all of that it felt like he'd been dunked in icy water. It tasted like betrayal—like everything else did. Slowly he clenched his jaws, drew a deep breath, and held it. Counted to ten. Released it. "No," he responded quietly, feeling, more than seeing, the way Sara hung onto his every word, how he soaked it all up for the things hidden between the lines—the things words could not convey. "I just don't know what to try anymore." And still, a small smile curved his dark lips as he watched his brother. He had no reason to care, no obligation. Mauja had left them all behind, never explaining anything, and yet here his brother was, almost revolving around him.
"You're the only family I have left," he'd said once, when they had just returned.
"Honesty, brother," was what he said now, turning his head to rest his black cheek against Mauja's neck, shoulder to shoulder with only the cold armor in-between. A moment's silence.
He felt their pulses align.
"Come," Sarazheha finally said, pulling back. "You're a ghost in these halls, haunted and haunting. It's not fair to keep you here; you've done all, and more, that we needed. They have no right to truth on top of that."
"Sara..."
"I don't need to know, brother. It was a long time ago."
Was it truly so simple? That just because it had happened a long time ago, it was alright? Or was it just his brother? As the gale died down around them, Mauja thought it was the latter; perhaps Sarazheha did not need the truth, but it was inevitable that the others would. He'd begun to hear the whispers, the rumors, the theories of what had happened—hopeful, hushed conversation when he was nearby, bait for him to come over and finally solve one of the many mysteries regarding his past. No one had cared much when he returned; it was only after he became their hero they did. Hero, pah. All he did was hold their plan together, and refuse to be afraid.
The last of the unnatural winds faded, their storm-crowns of white and black settling in rugged messes against sweaty necks. Eight frosted hooves stood solidly upon the ground, the sparse beginnings of the Threshold forest in full summer's glory just ahead of them—Mauja turned his head sideways, eying his brindled brother. Even if their homeland wanted to contain him, all because of some runes scribbled on his skin, they couldn't. Ever since Sarazheha had realized the wind sang in his blood he could go wherever he wanted. Reckless and dutiful. Mauja snorted softly. "Godsblood," he said, and Sarazheha laughed—he sounded like a storm, like thunder, always did whenever he commanded the air. Irma perched on his black shoulder, smoothing out her ruffled feathers. Mauja didn't need to ask to know she him. "Then you are too, brother." Mauja snorted. "As if. There's nothing godly about me.""No, no, not at all—you just happened to save us all, you know?""Anyone could've done that! All they needed was to stop being afraid of change." Sarazheha slowly shook his head, but let it be, for which Mauja was glad. He didn't like being the center of their attention—didn't like getting all the glory when it didn't belong to him. Really, the only thing he could take credit for was the peace treaty.
Slowly, Mauja took his eyes off Sarazheha, and onto the forest ahead. The trees, the gently rolling, soft ground of summer, were all familiar, even this far out, still on the other side. Would the sun blacken and fall out of the sky once he crossed the invisible border? Would he be plunged back into that darkness? "I'm not sure this is home, either," he said quietly, drawing in the scents. "But maybe here, I can find peace and quiet at least." Sarazheha said nothing. When Mauja raised one hoof to begin the journey into the familiar forest, he followed like a quiet black shadow, keenly remembering the circumstances of their departure, and unwilling to let his white brother go. Not when I just got your back, hryggur bróðir minn.
[ They're actually talking in Icelandic, but I'm too lazy to do the translations when it's just the two of them. xD ]
"Mauja?" The pale nurse's voice carried through the forest. She could have sworn that she heard Mauja's voice echoing through the woods, but could it be her imagination playing tricks on her? It had been seasons since the pale king had disappeared. How long had he been gone, anyway? It was since before the Edge had taken her and her two young sons captive and that had been before the Basin's failed invasion. Naturally, she had wondered about it. Would the invasion have been successful if Mauja were in their ranks? Would he be able to rally the troops in ways that Psyche had been unable to?
Kou held no ill will against the fallen Empress, nor did she hold any ill will toward the disappeared King or the new leaders that had risen to claim their thrones. But she had not pledged herself to them. She had pledged her loyalty to Mauja and Mauja alone. Following Psyche had been purely out of respect for the stallion that had chosen the dark mare to lead with him.
"Mauja?!" She called again when she heard his voice yet again. Her heart thrummed within her pale chest and excitement worked its way through her veins as she became confident that he had returned. Cloven hooves carried her carefully through the forest, but as her excitement turned to anxiety all care was forgotten and she began to crash through bushes, ignoring the way they tugged at her tail and the tree branches that slapped against her neck, shoulders, and face.
Finally the nurse came upon the very stallion she had been seeking and she skidded to a stop, her hair flying around her face before settling on her neck in wild disarray. Kou blinked and stared at Mauja, taking little notice of the stallion that was with him. "You're back." She said as a smile lit up her face.
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
Each step he took, he expected disaster: Midas coming out of the woodwork, Mirage descending as a giant dragon, the sun sliding out of the sky, his brain randomly hitting the magic tap and bleeding himself dry... It was almost as if each hoof that touched the warm ground yearned to lift off again, and retrace the motion that brought it down, rewind the tape before the end—before things had a chance to get out of hand. He didn't even know where the unwillingness came from. He'd stood steadfast in the midst of battle against a foe many had never faced, had held his ground and played his cards, putting all his faith in hope... It had been the only way. The only way. And somehow, they'd held it together, pushed to the brink of their existence. Fail then, and they would have failed forever.
Against that, he had stood resolute. Yet here he was, wanting to back out of a forest he knew like the back of his hoof—out of the land he knew so well. Helovia: Hellovia. The shuffling of his feet slowed, until they were all four on the ground, and none lifted to move forward. He couldn't even pinpoint the source of it.. fear? Wariness? He knew they wanted him, Mirage, Kri, and their hounds. He knew many things he had done, and more he hadn't. Was it death he feared? Death, at their hooves? Since when had he feared death? A slight frown creased his face; he didn't like the notion of that. But it didn't feel like that.. like it was fear.. even against their hypocritical minds and biased logic, surely the truth would prevail?
The truth. Sannleikann. A sour smile curled his lips. The truth was the truth. Heiðarleiki. As he turned to Sarazheha, who was watching him with quiet consternation, a voice cut through the warm forest: "Mauja?!"
And so, I am found.
There was no turning back now.
The sun was still in the sky.
"Eitthvað hefur breyst," he murmured to his brother, who nodded, still so dark and watchful of eye. Mauja swallowed. The sun still shone. His magic hadn't exploded in his mind, in his veins, through the ground. No one had come to abduct him. He knew who it was that crashed through the forest, making such noise—knew her by voice alone. Loyalty, anger, care, and here she was, crying out for him as he returned. It was so easy to become bitter, to wonder if he deserved it, if she would, if she knew; if she would assume?
Her mane was flying every which-way, tangled up in the air, until it fell against her pearly white neck. "You're back," she said with such a radiant smile it almost made him heartsick. He felt like some kind of villain standing there, something dark and heavy in the presence of an angel. "Yes," he simply said, eying her for a moment, distant and blue—before the sun broke through. Dark lips pulled into a smile, head bowed, and the four feet which had been so firmly planted in the soil drew him forward, to bring his black muzzle close to hers. "I am."
Shuffling along, her little vessel trips over roots trying to maintain a pace equal to hers. She hears another whimper and wail escape her vessel's lips. Turning around, the fae raises a brow and exhales, rolling her emerald gems. Her half was so uncoordinated, did it really have half her soul? Surely it'd walk with much more grace then it does now, with better coordination. Shrugging the question off, the fae continues weaving in and out of trees, her tail streaming behind her and her Keeper following farther behind. An innocent wail escapes its lips as she leaves it behind, her pace too fast for the little thing. Halting, the fae turns and waits patiently, features gentle as her Keeper races after her. Once united, they march onward.
The fae hears voices, their words in a language her mind cannot decode, her ears flicking back at the unnatural syllables. Heading in that direction, the fae finds herself upon three horses, two larger men and a smaller Arabian built woman. The mare and one of the studs were familiar to the fae, the other one appearing odd to her, an outsider for sure. The white leopard was Mauja the FrostHeart, former Lord of the Basin. The mare was Kou, d'Artagnan's nurse. She had happened upon Kou and the Doctor about to conceive a child long ago, when she was but an innocent child. Gazing at them with her emerald eyes filled with curiosity the fae opens her own lips, speaking fluent lyrics. "Welcome back Mauja."
The fae knew her mother had a little feelings for Mauja, but that obviously didn't matter now that her mother was among the dead. A frown was placed on her kissers, and the fae knew she must have looked solemn, for her Keeper began to whimper and nudge her with his nose. She bent down and touched his forehead reassuringly. Mauja leaned closer to Kou, leaving the fae to stare at the dark one who was with Mauja. "Who is this?" The fae wonders, tilting her head to the side to admire the stallion. She struts a few steps to the side, getting a better look at the runes weaved in with the white brindling.
"Speech."
[thread crasher extraordinaire lol]
FROST FYRE
Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change.
11-19-2013, 07:07 PM (This post was last modified: 11-19-2013, 07:08 PM by Torleik.)
Torleik
A lone man loved by none:
How long can he live?
Irelyn had heard the newcomers before he, so Torleik had situated them in a safe position, a place that was easy to watch from and hard to be seen. He did not assume the two that approached were dangerous but he did not feel compelled to reveal his presence and speak to them just yet. One was dark, the other light, an interesting dichotomy of good and evil to his eyes.
Did they truly represent such factions?
Was the light one pure and good? The dark less so?
Torleik was used to others assuming he carried ill intentions simply because of his coloring so he often liked to compare the personalities of those he came across to the shade of their pelts. Did the personality fit the pelt, or was it the other way around? He could never be quite sure. These two seemed to interact in an intimate way that spoke of family, and the well of loss he kept a firm lid on within his chest bubbled over, trickles of pain making him grimace and Irelyn ruffle her feathers in confusion at this new sensation. She nipped at his neck gently and he leaned into her tiny little form to reassure her everything was all right.
The language they spoke sounded familiar in such a sweetly hurtful way, bits and pieces of it similar to his own native tongue, the speech of his great-grandfathers and their ancestors. But, he knew these two did not come from his home; he would have known them, had their names within his memory, their faces. After all, their appearance was not mundane.
As he watched, it seemed that this white male, Mauja, was known to others within Helovia. Had he been here before recently? A long while ago? Torleik was curious now, and wished to know. Emerging from his hiding place, he gave a respectful nod to the darker stallion that seemed to hang back and was wholly ignored by the others. Rude, the rabicano thought, wondering why no one else would acknowledge this one. Well, perhaps not horribly rude - one of them seemed to inquire as to the identity of the dark one after a short while.
Approaching quietly, the dual-horned demon stood quietly to the side, rather like the other shadowy male, and watched. The first mare seemed to be overtly pleased this Mauja was back. Had they been romantically involved? The second mare seemed less outwardly thrilled, but still happy. For just a moment, he opened his mouth but decided against it in the end. If these two knew this Mauja - large and majestically white as he was (though the spots on his coat seemed to soften the starkness and imposing nature of the brilliance of his white coat) - Torleik did not want to interrupt.
The Nurse's smile began to fade as Mauja stood staring at her, the distance in his gaze driving a knife through her heart. Had he been gone so long that he'd forgotten about their friendship? She then took notice of the darker stallion that had seemingly arrived with Mauja and one ear tilted back. Was he the reason for the distance? Was Mauja putting on some kind of act so he wouldn't seem weak? The very idea of the icy king being weak was laughable to Kou and as all these thoughts ran through her head Mauja finally stepped forward and extended his muzzle toward her. The mare took the invitation and stepped closer and touched her pale muzzle to his, the smile returning.
"I've missed you." She said, not caring how it was taken by anyone who had arrived and stood observing. "The Doctor may not admit it, but he's missed you, too." After a moment Kou stepped back, her eyes again drifting to the stallion who had come with Mauja before she looked at the others who had gathered. Frost Fyre, she knew mainly because she had sent her away so she and d'Artagnan could have a moment's peace and attempt to expand their family. The other stallion she didn't know and assumed that he had to have joined the Basin (since he didn't smell of the other herd lands) while she had been held captive in the World's Edge.
"Hello." She greeted them all, offering each a smile that was no where near as radiant as the one she had greeted Mauja with. "I am Kou, a nurse in the Aurora Basin." Her gaze lingered on Torleik before it drifted back to Mauja. "Are you staying?"
11-22-2013, 05:31 AM (This post was last modified: 11-26-2013, 12:46 PM by Mauja.)
Gently nudges @[Frost Fyre]
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
[ No worries. I have a hard time posting on work days myself, so. :/ ]
Of course he hadn't forgotten—how could he, ever? Too many faces lingered in the dust of his mind, encounters and words drifting along the borders of just-remembered and half-forgotten, coming back to life whenever he touched them with a thought. And those, they were the ones who had come and gone, the ones he had but seen and met briefly; not the ones who had stood by him for ages. Mauja didn't forget his friends—or his enemies.
She looked like she had the last time he saw her, that smile always close at hand, so warm, small and elegant. His own smile grew a fraction wider as he felt her warm breath, black-rimmed ears flickering back suddenly. The pounding of his heart picked up, his sense of smell overwhelmed by the nearness of Kou, but it was Irma that saved him: you know this one, she said, in her own way. And true enough, it was Leyra's daughter that came to stand beside them, some strange kind of young deer with her. "Frost," he said by way of greeting, before Kou's admission of having missed him. And as ever, that bitter part of him reared its ugly head, wondered if he deserved it, what about him was it that they loved? Once, he had been something great, but then he'd fallen so low he wasn't sure he'd ever gotten off the ground again. He had let them down, simply by not succeeding, yet they still cared for him.. followed him.
He shoved it all aside. He couldn't let his own monsters taint what good there was left in his world.
"I've missed you too," he murmured, aware of Frost's bright, emerald eyes. Sarazheha shifted by his flank, maintaining a look of composure, but if Mauja had known his brother better he would've seen the small signs of anxiety, and discomfort. "And d'Artagnan. Do you know where he is?" Typically, in Mauja's experience, the Doctor was the one who cavorted around Helovia, always up to no good, and not Kou; was he somewhere nearby, with her? The Red's blunt sense of morbid humor never failed to cheer him up, and despite his promise to attempt Sarazheha's remedy, he wanted someone to bludgeon him and shove him back into the rhythm of things.
Finding yourself is never easy.
Being found, however, seemed particularly easy on that day.
Two familiar faces, and a stranger; tall, though not as tall as Mauja but maybe the height of Sara, dark and graceful, with a splatter like snow on his belly. Dual horns rose from his skull, a heavy crown to bear; it gave him a distinctly evil-looking appearance. Mauja's blue eyes narrowed a fraction. Friend or foe? Kou didn't seem alarmed, at least, and he smelled vaguely of the north—but Mauja had never been good at trusting, always assuming the worst. One ear moved to the sound of Frost's question, but his eyes remained on the stranger a moment longer. Close, but not close enough to be an immediate threat. If he moved, they'd have time to react. Irma, still perching on Sarazheha's withers, gave him a mental roll of her eyes before settling to watch the two young animals present. He felt a slight stir of her hunger.
"This is my brother, Sarazheha," he told Frost, before his eyes flickered to said brother. He looked vaguely suspicious, and Mauja laughed gently at him, trying to not let Torleik's foreboding presence eat him up. So far, he kept it under lock and key, somewhere deep down in his soul, but he wasn't sure how to juggle the situation when it seemed everyone was talking almost at once, barely giving him time to register one thing, and reply, before it moved on. "Just smile at him. He won't understand what you say." Kou had introduced herself to the other black stallion (or so he assumed), and Mauja gave him a nod, forcing himself to trust in Kou's lack of alarm. "I'm Mauja," he offered, before glancing back to Kou. The small smile he'd so often worn in the past returned, slightly lopsided, and with a hint of amused irony he answered her question: "Somewhere, certainly."
11-27-2013, 11:05 AM (This post was last modified: 11-27-2013, 11:05 AM by Frost Fyre.)
The girl does not know if she should stare at the stallion and frown, knowing he must have been part of her mother's pain. She flicks back her lobe, an act of cautious as her green gems study the older stallion and his companion. She lets her elders speak briefly, the cremello lady speaking of how much she had missed the man in white. The fae simply shrugs, not knowing what to do with the return of the king. One question lingered in her mind, one she would speak out within due time. The speckled steed asks of the Doctor, and the maiden lays eyes on the Nurse once again.
A gentle tug pulls her attention from the Nurse as her companion gazes at another stallion, who has just entered. Trailing behind him is a strange little creature, similar to the girl's own Vessel, but... not. It wasn't a deer-like creature like her's, it was instead a cat-like being, gifted with the wings and face of an owl. The fae was ever so confused with the thing, wondering if it was a Griffon, which had once been a fable in her mind, now turned to a reality. The girl simply admires the little hatchling for a moment before turning her head to her own, young Vessel. He had begun growing now, slowly growing larger by each passing week. But the bond between the maiden and her Vessel was still anew, too fresh for them to speak mentally just yet.
The fae nods her head as Mauja answers her question on who the stallion accompanying him is, telling her it is his brother. The fae flicks her ears forward, taking in this new bit of information. A brother of Mauja's? The girl steps forward curiously to see what she makes of this new, strangely marked stallion. Mauja mentions something about his brother not understanding them, sparking questions in her mind. Did he not speak the language they spoke? Was he not formal with the native tongue of Helovia? The girl simply presses these questions farther away, her emerald gems trailing off to the Nurse as she asks if the FrostHeart is staying. "Will you come back to the Basin?" The fae wonders, knowing that question must be running through the minds of the gathered.
"Speech."
FROST FYRE
Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change.
The dual-horned stallion continued to watch these exchanges rather than speak, finding he learned more by being a bystander than a participant. Eventually he knew that role had to come to an end, but he would prolong this state of silence for as much time as he could manage. Torleik was decidedly uncomfortable in social situations like this where he was the only one who did not know the person in question. He felt particularly like an outsider in such moments and that did not sit well with his kind, curious nature; he would never admit to it, but it bothered him to be left out more than it bothered him to be isolated on his own.
Irelyn began to gently preen bits of Torleik's mane that were not braided, trying to be affectionate and soothing. Touched by this action, he turned his head back and softly pressed his muzzle to her tiny, fluffy, baby-down feathered head, earning a pleased avian purr. One of the mares introduced herself to him, and perhaps the other dark one with this new (old?) stallion as Kou. The stallion followed with the name Mauja and Torleik knew he could no longer stay silent.
"I am called Torleik," he said, looking between Mauja, Kou and the other mare whom he still did not know. "You have lived here prior, I take it, Mauja? It seems you would be welcome in the Basin, from the reception I've witnessed." Whereas he usually felt in control of the offer, since this stallion had been here prior, there really was nothing of the usual power exchange. Mauja knew the lands and the homes. He would stay where he wished. Would this newcomer throw a kink into his schedule? His future? He seemed...influential. That could be useful, or detrimental.
Thoughtful, he slipped into silence again to resume watching.
What smile had been on Kou's face disappeared when the once-king asked about the doctor and his whereabouts. She had since forgiven him since he had not come charging into the Edge to rescue her, but she still did not know what to think of him denouncing his position within the herd. A lot had changed since Mauja had disappeared and the Plague did not feel the same without its Crux and Bane. "The doctor does not live within the Basin any longer." She answered and again the question reared itself within her mind of whether or not she should follow him or remain within the safety of the Basin.
But was the Basin really that safe? Her children had been stolen. She had been stolen.
"A lot has changed since you've been gone." She whispered to Mauja as Torleik introduced himself. Her eyes shifted to Torleik and the smile graced her features once more as he voiced his question. "Mauja was our king." He was their rightful king, the backbone of their herd and the Plague, but she dare not mention the Plague while in the company of Torleik and Frost Fyre. How was she to know if they had joined the group?
Frost Fyre then asked the question that had been on Kou's lips since the pale king made his return. Would he return to the Basin or had he moved on with his life and washed his hands of them? Though she was loathe to admit it, whatever choice the king made would affect her decision to stay within the confines of the Basin. He was her king. He recruited her and befriended her. He offered her a home. He protected her. He was her king, not someone who stepped up and claimed the throne when he had disappeared. It was him that she had pledged her loyalty to, no one else.
And so she stood there, patiently waiting for Mauja to answer the younger mare's question.
and it's like you're shouting out my name in the dark
but I can't hear because there's ice in my heart.
How long had he been gone? The snows had not yet thawed and melted when he disappeared, at least not in the north; the nights had still been longer than the days. And if the lingering warmth in the air was something to go by, it was late summer now—half a year, then? So much had happened since then, to him, and to them. That much was obvious, given even—what world would pause and hold its breath just because one of its failed kings went away? He had known things would've changed, balances shifted. Surely some he knew had died. Kou's smile faded, and even in his state of disarray, Mauja's heart stumbled in his chest, a cold claw contracting around it; had something happened to d'Artagnan? Illogical fear clashed with the logic of Kou's earlier statement, until the words betrayed the truth: "The doctor does not live within the Basin any longer." He swallowed the question, silenced the why? and instead reached out to touch her cheek with his muzzle, terrifyingly aware of all the others watching.
It was nearly paralyzing; so much easier to pretend to be strong if he could stand still, mask everything with ice and iron certainty. It was worse than being a shadow in the Basin, as he had so long ago—it was like being afraid, of living, when the only thing that had changed was knowledge.
Gently, he blew hot air against her, before pulling back, soothed by the warmth of Sarazheha by his flank. To think that his brother had done so much lately: save him, spirit him away, coax him into becoming a leader, and finally, break him all the way down with a gentle, yet firm, suggestion—or order, if you wished. I've fallen, brother, but I cannot wait for someone else to pick me up.
And so, he kept pretending that things were normal, even as his soul lay on its side and stared at a raging sky.
Kou's whispered voice mirrored his own sentiments, and as his sharp eyes remained on Torleik he inclined his head, to show that he'd heard. It was obviously something she'd not wished to say out loud, and he remembered enough of the game to not give her away; instead, he added another name to a face, storing it somewhere in the back of his mind, and tried to force his spirit to calm. The thick stallion seemed to be one of the Basin herd, then, and maybe it should've soothed him, but it didn't. He wasn't sure what the Basin was anymore, or what he was, and maybe finding himself would be easier if he wasn't around those who expected certain.. things, from him.
Perhaps there were different kinds of strengths.
"Mauja was our king." There it was, that small word: was. He'd been their King not only once, but twice, and let them down both times: disappeared, in a flurry of snow or wind, leaving no trace. No farewells, no explanations. The set of his jaws grew a fraction firmer. No King ought to leave their people. He felt like he'd failed everyone, let everyone down, and truly, was no closer to his redemption than he'd ever been. "A pleasure meeting you, Torleik," he simply said, suddenly finding a part of himself again—he was no King, but his body remembered. Something loosened in his stance, the set of his withers grew less jagged, and his ears flickered forward, eyes bright, alert; inviting, somehow so open of face while giving nothing away, not truly.. always these bits and pieces of a past monarch flickering into life, but not quite touching the heart anymore. "Will you come back to the Basin?"
And there it was, the point upon which everything turned. The question he hadn't decided an answer for, the choice in which he did not know what to do, which path to walk down, and which to abandon. Slowly, he turned his head around to face Frost Fyre, and was surprised to feel Sarazheha's cheek press against his barrel. Irma's talons squeezed the black stallion's withers, her impassive eyes upon the youngest mare, and if he could, he would've stopped time. What do you say, when you don't know? When you want to keep wearing that mask, to pretend you're not on your knees? To, somehow, convince them all you're still strong, still so certain, when in reality you feel like you don't know anything at all anymore? He hesitated a moment, a span of silence counted down by the thunder of his heart—he felt like a deer in the headlights, trapped between hungry wolves. His silence stretched, a second longer, he had to say something before his silence gave it all away.
"No," he finally said, heaving a sigh that seemed infinitely small in comparison to everything he held back within. "Not right away, at least. There are.. other things I have to take care of, first."
And thus, he had made a choice, taken the first step down an unknown path. Somehow, he found himself thinking Sarazheha would be proud, if he only knew what had been said.
[ Mauja is...being more silly than he should. I'm sorry this is rambly and ugly we're trying to figure out things again. :x ]
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