the Rift


[OPEN] Snow Angels

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#1

What was it that Resplendence had thought? Does the girl ever stop bouncing? Today the answer was no, though Kahlua really should have been more careful. She alternately walked and trotted through the icy wasteland of the Steppe, soaking up the cool air before she had to make her way back south to the Edge. Of course, it wasn't just the cool air that was making her so joyous. She had survived delivery of her glass statue gift to the Basin and she was glad to have made it out alive. It was no secret that she was afraid of the Basin unicorns (but then, did the girl have any secrets?) and their hateful ways. If she could have patted herself on the back and gave herself a prize for her bravery, surely she would be wearing a gold ribbon right now.

Taking a moment to stop her foolish romping about the land, Kahlua suddenly realized she was somewhat farther out than she had intended to come. Now, getting lost was no news to the painted beauty. After all, she spent enough of her time traveling around the land and finding herself in strange new places; however, something was different about this. Knowing she was so close to the land of the Basin unicorns, so isolated out in the frozen tundra and so far from any of her friends, she became concerned. Nervously, she began to look around, wondering if there was anyone watching her, be they nefarious or amiable. However, hidden amongst various piles of rocks and snow banks, the girl saw little.

Luckily, the feelings of fools are fleeting. A soft laugh escaped the girls mouth and she shook her head. There was nothing to be worried about, right? Wouldn't lady moon keep her safe? Lowering her nose to touch the plum colored amulet around her neck, Kahlua was reassured. Of course the goddess would keep her safe. Hadn't she every other day of Kahlua's life? Well... most of them. Taking a deep breath then, Kahlua bounded to the top of one of the rock formations and tried to get her bearings. When she finally thought she had them, she began to move tumultuously back to the east. Subtlety never had been her strong suit. At least home was somewhere in the direction, so long as she didn't get lost along the way.


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#2


Change was an inevitable barrage – she’d embraced it once, in the woods, beneath the boughs, the warmth, the grandeur and solace of another time, another place. Now, she was afraid, frightened, of the abyss she’d sunk into, and ventured, wandered, for the strings of unattainable answers. She sought the snow, the Steppe, to cleanse her soul, wash away the agony, the pain, the distortions and anguish layered and lacquered to the grimy entity she now contained. Fixating, chilling, cool and forgiving, crushing and extinguishing the blighted circumstances into attainable truths; she’d saved her brethren from monsters and demons, she’d attempted to extricate beings, children and mothers, from a world holding them chained, locked, imprisoned. Sometimes the wires, strands, lace and ribbons of her footfalls, of her composure, of all of her trials and tribulations plaited together and wove a knot in her heart, threatened to ignite, to explode, to diminish all the whimsies and fancies she’d collected. Soft petals, rough pebbles, bright, effervescent fronds and blades, crooning gales and bubbling, mirthful whispers, christened and anointed, as if they were to never be seen again. How long had it been since she laughed, since she giggled, since she smiled and grinned, danced beneath the celestial whirlwinds and glanced forward, determined, stalwart, and brave for the future? Where had her resolution faded – in the beckoning of cannons, in the prowess of soldiers, in the haunting, poignancy of deadened emotions and crushing, gnarled apathy, leaving her essence barren, sullied and stained, just as damned as the rest. Divinity seemed only surface level, scarred and damaged, blemished and caught in the ruffian parallels of twisting, turning, anarchy and chaos, where hope and virtue seemed eager to die, wither and decay, fermenting on the sienna figurine, neither nymph, nor sylph; angelic qualities washed away into tombs, battle cries and violent symphonies. Blades too sharp, too punctured, too serrated, like elongated, piercing rapiers, had pierced deep into the rhythm of her songs, of her warbles, trills and chirps, silencing the arias, the ditties, the strains into hushed, sketched, traced tranquility.

Imogen followed close by, outlined the footfalls of her beloved with dulcet pathways, forlorn, despondent, vexed and irritated. She neither waltzed nor pranced, merely watched as the songbird, choked, strangled, muted, continued on the tundra grounds, weaving naught out of melancholy and self-loathing. The ivory kitsune paused once, twice, attempted to gain bearings across the void, a different outlook, but couldn’t find anything but the steady walls of the frozen expanse to occupy Lena’s mind, to restore and repair, rejuvenate and recompose the lost, shriveled diligence, the echoing chasms of joy and delight, rapture and reverie. Then, the sight of another traveled beyond her blue gaze, laughing in the wasteland, twirling in the wilderness (wasn’t that what the Nurse did – exotic, regal, noble, pulled into the repose and grandeur of the world – could this one teach her to embrace that again?). She chirped in riotous clarity, crooned in eager resolution, strengthened by the need, the drive, to fix the remnants of her companion. Another, Lena!

The silent connection prospered – honeyed convictions and aspirations blended into the wholesome length of the Nurse’s eyes, and the two creatures roamed, searched, peeked and lingered, watched for a few moments as the other seemed to occupy themselves, bounding, leaping, chasing down old dreams and aspirations. Intrigued by the jubilance, because she wanted to experience it again, the drifting, brilliant feeling of coquette waltzes and ambient elegance, she advanced, then noted the scent ghosting into her nares: World’s Edge. Bravery snatched and stolen in a few moments, resorting to patched threads and snarled munitions, until she was a lost girl again, resorting to hiding in thickets, gullies and copses. Imogen nearly rolled her eyes (the Lena she once knew would have danced, not shirked, embraced, not concealed), but instead, rekindled their soothing connection. Amends, perhaps? Would that save things? Would that bring her back from the deadened livelihood she now claimed, nomadic, Romani, constantly trying to appease her worn virtues?

So Lena tried her hand at restoration again, swallowed her blemished sentiments, pushed them into the brink of desolation, scarred and brutal, and beckoned with song to the stranger beyond. “Hello!”


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

Faelene Posts: 297
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE
Sica
#3

FAELENE

if i could only go back in time
ooc;If Lena wants to spot her when in her next post that's fine with me.

The rugged mountains were a welcome sight to her eyes. Long she had seen nothing but stretches and stretches of red desert with its rocky outcrops. Silver eyes could not look long from their carved faces she found comfort in. If she had strength she would have ran all the way, but knew that was another foolish want. The red maned was all about making choices cautiously. Home, to be so close and yet so far away. The lady's heart yearned to be back. Taste the crisp grass of the tundra. Have no one above her but the towering peaks. Where she could rest in familiar confines of her cave, and perhaps see if her items had returned. Where at last she could know what had transpired in her absence. A heavy sigh dove from her lips, her patched legs keeping their steadfast walk. It was great to see the plain of familiar white, each step another pull closer. The same time it was maddening how far she had to conquer till reaching the Kingdom of Unicorns.

Time of it all she ended up simply humming, and finding points against white she could reach. Pattern became just to that rock, just to that bush, and than over to that poor flower. It became something she could mark her progress, and hold onto the remains of her sanity. Greatly, she hoped returning home might kill some of the loneliness that gnawed her. She wouldn't deny how she anxious she started to feel when trying to imagine the stories she did not know. How was Lady Psyche? Was anyone else harmed? Were their spirits broken, as hers had been? The red maned knew they had not conquered the Edg, and was trying to prepare herself mentally for what she would face. It was a natural defense mechanism. Prepare for the worst. The worst would have been the Basin belonging to the hordes of the Qian or Throat. No such words had pressed in her ears. What would be the next terrible thing to return home to?

Despite the imaginative images of a golden dragonlady blowing fire, while her minions stormed the woods, and that copies upon copies of Basin Unicorns fighting themselves she had no idea of the changes. They would not be written plainly as the ones upon her skin. With a frown, and the pattern of her breath normal she nudged herself into a trot. She did not know there was a friend and possible enemy yards ahead. No, they would not yet appear in her sight, and she theirs.


edenlore1234
[Image: faeleneicon.png]

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#4

Was the girl destined to a life of surprises? Perhaps. Did she ever pay enough attention to her surroundings? Did she ever bother to think that there may be danger in the snow and ice? Of course not. Because fools dream, fools imagine, fools dance through life, but fools do not know reality. Is a fool no better than a madman, then? At the very least, the girl was somewhat aware of her shortcomings. Perhaps this is what saved Kahlua, kept her from life in an Asylum, allowed her the freedom to travel from her homeland and to the icy wastelands of the North. But if her herd had known better, wouldn't they have found a reason to keep the girl home? Sure, a madman may cause chaos and darkness in the world, but is there anything so damaging to the integrity of an organization than one with a loose tongue?

And her surprise came, soon enough, in the form of a unicorn. A simple greeting broke through the sound of winds blowing, a sound that had all but dominated the painted girl's romp through the snowy wasteland. Immediately, she stopped, ears perked, looking towards the bay mare that had intruded on her useless gayety. Although, intruded is not exactly the proper word. If there was ever a moment that Kahlua did not wish for company, it was either that she was sick or dying. And so, eagerly, she moved towards the bay lady with the white fox, her dancing soprano matching her dancing hooves. “Hello, friend!” She sounded hollow in amongst all the snow, and hated it, but surely friendly conversation would warm the air.

As she came closer, her eyes looked to the creature that followed Lena so faithfully. Her heart melted and as she stopped before the bay mare, she couldn't help but express her feelings. The painted girl had never been meant to keep secrets. “Your friend is beautiful,” she said to Lena, her voice in awe. Then, to Imogen herself, Kahlua nodded. “Hello!” Having seen so many around with companions to keep them company, Kahlua was convinced that she wanted one and hoped in her dreams that the gods might one day bless her with a companion of her own. Little did the girl know that having a companion was akin to having a child, at least for a short time, and children were something the painted girl hoped to avoid for the entirety of her life.

As the winds shifted, and Kahlua inhaled, it suddenly occurred to her that the bay mare smelled of the Basin. For an instant, her heart froze as hard as the icy ground she walked upon. Was she in danger? Was she to be ostracized or attacked? Still, she had managed to make it out from the funnel-like entrance to the Basin unharmed. And besides, she saw no hint of malice behind the mare's eyes. Were all of the Basin unicorns as hateful as Farenjar, who had attacked her, leaving a foot-long scar on her left thigh? Or did some of them live peaceful lives even amongst those who rallied for supremacy? If these thoughts entered the girl's head at all, they were fleeting, and yet her heart resumed beating and her lungs resumed breathing. This mare had sounded kind, had looked welcoming, could she really be so bad? “I'm Kahlua,” she managed at last, knowing little of the potential danger that was waiting to come upon her.


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#5


The lithe, limber femme absorbed the cold air and almost felt fey again, lost and twisted into the undulations of cool, inspiring drafts, the keen, elegant gales, the whispering decibels of sights unseen, of worlds unexplored, of time stretched, molded and sculpted into dulcet caresses, without the shifts, without the turns, without the distortions of the forlorn, the despondent, the villainous. She yearned to dance, to stretch, to bend and sway with the sun’s rays, to twirl in the vivid, pressing shadows, to revolve, swivel, pivot into the heady, ethereal minarets, in the tempestuous boleros, in the feverish, sinking pirouettes, until there was naught left of her forsaken frame. She could slide amongst the stars, slink into the heavens, crumble and croon into the petals, blossom again, whole, fresh, anew, reborn from the innards and entrails of a broken, malicious world; cherished moralities. Taffeta wings and lavished, affable grandeur, lacquered in the boughs of the beatific, harmonious, mellifluous, songbirds whistling beguiling melodies, archaic potions of whimsical fairy dust, honeyed, candied fields, delusions of persimmons and aspirations. Her eyes stole to the web of finery, the delightful rapture, the divine enamel of the painted mare, with her angelic creations, her sylph movements, her jovial, jubilant pursuits, and wondered where she’d scattered her own – across mountainsides, along peaks, pinnacles and summits? In the sinful scorches of mist and fog, in the chilling bravado of darkened chambers, in the brine of gloom or the alluring, enticing pull of iniquity, rippling, cascading, over the taut bows of each rosy sacrifice? Was this youth, floret in the ice, another depiction of what could have been, had Lena not seen, not heard, not touched, not faltered or stumbled within the swift, maneuvering labyrinth? Did this femme forgo the touches, the nuances, the haunting, poignant cries of unholy turbulence, of festering animosity, of falling to pestilence amidst all of her pixie convictions? And where was Lena to find more, to weave, to chain, to lace, to enamel and lacquer the art of perseverance, persistence, and endurance, the fortitude to withstand – to trill in the heat of treachery, to croon in the vile, fiendish woods, to remember rapture, ardor, opulence, magnificence, when savage, unyielding, cruelty made every innocent act, every Elysium thread, a wicked, damning consignment.

The Nurse found her old smile through the patchwork condemnations, floating and flooding over the reverie of her lips, flourished, exotic, sprite and imp, because despite all of her present agonies, she failed to be a stony ogre, waiting for the waves to crash and reshape her figure. Her expectations for the meeting were all but torn and shambled. Where another beast would have driven her away for the mere scent collected upon her hide: icy crests and crowns, valleys covered in rime and frost, this one ventured closer, extended compliments and intrigues, caused curiosity to tumble over the dark, clouded sentiments of the songbird. Hello, friend!, flooded into the boundaries of glaciers, melted the hardened, aloof conjectures of wintry, arctic prowess, reminding Lena over and over again how easily she’d conveyed the warmth, the tenderness, the amiability within her home, and lately, feeling the endless loss of the enthusiasm, fervor. The sylph sought to funnel, channel, her worn cordiality, her sunken spirit, diving into the fray of jumbled herds and warring cadres without malice, without menace, without blades and daggers pointed at bared throats. A sonnet, a stanza, a lyric, a tune burst from her throat, assembled in the sanctions and sections of repose, rapport, before delivering a short bow, a bob, of respect. “I’m Lena.” Even Imogen received accolades and praise, at which the ivory fox preened, chirped, warbled her approval, sniffing at the painted femme’s hooves, charmed and delighted her beauty and wonder were recognized. Likable!, the beast conjured in silent conversation, and the healer covered her soft giggle with the rhapsody of her voice again. “Imogen says thank you.”

Before Lena had the opportunity to embark upon other subjects, suddenly inspired to dabble into the sculptures of summer or the vestige of upcoming autumn, a scent drifted upon the wind – familiar, striking, an absent presence felt within the ripples of the Basin’s never-ending lake, through the twists and turns of the silent copses and glades. Instead of questioning, querying, alarming Kahlua, as the other was heralded, she remained composed, unruffled, while her mind spun rapid commands towards the kitsune, find her?, and the vixen quickly gave chase into the anarchy of wind and snow. Without lingering on the possibilities, the reasoning, behind Imogen’s sudden disappearance, she instantly waxed poetical upon the chimes, the bells, the carols of their circumstances, grinning, smiling, a welcome display of elegance, grace and refinement. “What brings you to the Steppe, Kahlua?”

Meanwhile, the blue-tipped companion sauntered, traversed, over rock and crag, blending into present snow, yearning, desiring, the appearance of another – there, down the length of an unbidden trail, and chirped wildly towards the red-maned, tails brushing against the eaves, rupturing the hushed void with a bellow, a dance, a spark of hope along the dispirited.


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

Faelene Posts: 297
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE
Sica
#6

FAELENE

if i could only go back in time
ooc;either of you can powerplay Faelene as coming into view

Limbs stretched, and pulled tugging the new flesh, but continuing to toughen its texture. It would need to strengthen. Hopefully hair would return before winter made itself known. "A little more, a little more." Voice broke in the pattern of her body's sway. Who would encourage her onward now? The words of her healer were distant, a memory. The weariness of her body was hard to fight. More stubborn than its protests of pain, because if her eyes slipped close she was sure she would slip into a temporary coma. Who was fond of blacking out? Especially in the middle of a frost desert where everyone might just think she was dead any way. While she red maned had entertained ideas of remaining a ghost, phantoms did not feel pain, nor get tired. It was not a capable part. Even if she there was such things as living corpses, she was too alive. A fact she was very well aware of. Death, please, she thought, just take me the next time you insist. Faelene was not a cat, and had already played out five of her lives. Was there one more?

A tired laugh, despite hating so she had to slow down to an amble. Had to let her lungs grab more air than they should have needed. Walking was better than stopping, and drawing past the mountains the Basin was only on the other side of the Steppe. Almost? It was unreal how long she had been away, should she worry she would not remember how to reach it? Twitch of crimson tail, a snort erupted at the idea her memory would be gone. No, she had walked this plain how many times? Silver irises scanned the horizon would it be best to linger in the ice cave for a proper rest? It was of no use if she came back in poorer condition. There was something that caught her eye. A mirage, or a poor starved tree? Shadows blurring with white, a tilt of her crown she tried to adjust the view. The distance was great enough to obscure the idea there was anybody out here. It didn't look like horses, probably more rocks that were often white. Continuing she gave eyes rest, looking down, wondering what would befall her next. Another stranger who would find her first? It seemed the pattern of this place. Nostrils scrunched, but the wind was not in her favor. Yes, exhaustion does bring out the paranoia, the dark lady tried to calm her nerves. There was a lilt, the smallest little notes, and lowering her crown she could see the colors of blue on triangle points, and in in round eyes on a small face. The fox was giving all for her attention. Even if it had simply stared the red maned could have not looked away. Knowing not the Kitsune's name she did know who she was paired with. Lena! Could she really be out here, at this moment?

"Have you come to cheer me the rest of the way?" The lady couldn't help, but ask because the sight of her was enough to lift her torn spirits. Shuffling closer, eyes focused on Imogen, trying to keep a steady hold of where she was going. What she may be trying to tell her, she willed herself to follow her until she saw her bonded. It may sound strange, not seeing another Unicorn in weeks was not setting right with her mind either.


edenlore1234
[Image: faeleneicon.png]

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#7

If she had retained any fears at all, they faded like the sun over the horizon, falling into darkness and hidden away as her new-found friend smiled. It was a simple gesture, perhaps easy to fake, but Kahlua was trusting and easy hearted. Her own smile grew more resolute, convinced as she was that she had found a welcome friend- a joyous day indeed in the girl's life. Lena, the other woman called herself, and Kahlua repeated the name to herself, determined not to forget it. In an abstract sort of way, the girl's mind was already whirling and whining, testing its limits of endurance and thought, trying to force a rational trail into the otherwise chaotic fairyland that was the overo's mind. It was just inklings of ideas, but they held bright hopes for a peaceful future.

If the inklings had been solidified, the girl might have been thinking of Lace and Kaj. Torleik upon their borders had caused quite a stir, the painted girl thrown into the chaos quite unexpectedly, and her heart still hurt from the experience. Kaj's forceful words, claiming that their distrust of the unicorns was no better than the racist thoughts of the beings to the North, had hurt the girl to her very core. Was she really? Had she been so blinded by patriotism for the Edge that her impressionable heart was beginning to fall into the terrible blackness of racism? But then, had he been so wrong? Didn't she dance with fear most times she spotted a horn upon the head of another? Didn't she hold herself ready to run at the slightest provocation without waiting to see if the heart of the other was gold or charred? And was fear of the unknown, guarding yourself against a perceived threat, the same as ignorance? Does assuming that a tiger will attack you, distrusting their motives, while walking openly into the paws of house cat make you racist or just capable of assessing threats? But then, can you condemn the pure heart of one tiger for the crimes of his brethren?

And what of Lace. She was supposed to please him, to follow his every command, to walk in his footsteps to make him proud. Her king, her lord, one of just two that could steal her gift away from her. He commanded her to walk with caution, to be wary and distrustful of strangers, to guard her home against them first and ask questions later. But if following the commands of her leaders tore her away from her friends, was she really in the right place? Would Kaj look down upon her forever for doing as Lace dictated, for steeling her heart against the unicorns and assuming them guilty until proven innocent? Had her life really fallen to such terrible cross-roads? Loyal follower or loyal friend? Could she be both or was she relegated to a life of one or the other? It was lucky the girl did not think these things, could not conjure the words and thoughts in brain if she had wanted to, or she might have fallen to tears, brain beat to its limits by philosophical questions she had no right to ponder in the first place.

She was also lucky that Lena was so willing, so accepting. Was this the beginnings of something greater? The preening of the fox made a giggle fall from Kahlua's lips, bells chiming in the frozen wasteland, and she lowered her nose closer to the fox as it came upon her hooves. But as soon as she came, she was gone again, dancing across the fields of snow to some unseen location, playing the games of a fox, no doubt. Kahlua did not question it. She understood the need to run off and dance, after all. Instead, her voice danced lightly, “An escape from the heat of the summer and a chance to explore,” she said with a smile. And, not being able to contain a small bit of pride, she continued. “I delivered a glass statue to the Basin and found this place along the way.” Her blue eyes sparkled, feeling somewhat self-important in the moment, then flickered away from Lena when they caught a flash of red against the white. For a moment she was confused, furrowed her brow just to see what she was looking at, but when she found that it was another unicorn trailing the fox, she bobbed her head in greeting. Imogen had stolen her heart already- she was certain nothing evil could come of her actions. “Hello!”


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#8


A simple camaraderie fell over the air, lithe, limber conjectures of friendship and easygoing parallels, and all the rigid contortions, all the stiff distortions fueled and pummeled into her soul relaxed, unwound. A soothing breath eased from her lungs, billowing back into the frigid ether, heartlines and disillusion forgotten in the curls of smiles, grins and promises of eager benediction – for so long she’d yearned for the return of generosity, for the cool veneer, for the numbing artifice, to crumble away from her sinful sculpture. Bells and carols, warbles and whistles, trills and chirps had been sought instead of war songs and battle cries, symphonies of indignation and hostility, and the gentle sigh coaxed from her honeyed convictions are a welcome pulse from a once cracked soul. In the midst of Kahlua, there was no fear, no violence, no heresy or immorality festering, withering, decaying; like a sense of freedom washing over free-flowing tides and rivulets, cascading down in chilling sonnets, because she didn’t need to guard, reflect or pacify the rancor, the regrets, the calamity of all their fraught pieces, had no reason to be the nurse, the healer, the mender or the unfit warrior. Only Lena, sylph and nymph, fey and fairy, pixie and sprite, flower and blossom, butterfly and swan, dipped in ambrosia, finessed in coquette strings and minuet ballads. Refinement reshaped and molded, elegance, grace, finesse polished and lacquered to forget, to bestow, to offer and proffer the better alms of her convictions and generosity, smoothly conveyed in the balance of her laughter or the tenderness of her grin. Even when Kahlua mentioned the delivery of a statue to the Basin (to a world the painted one should have despised, neglected or avoided), Lena simply arched a brow, driven to curiosity over the reasoning, over the abilities of the femme before her, but never acrimony, villainy or animosity. Had the Basin entered into some kind of treaty? What had the gift been, formed into? Did this painted figure, this dancer, this willow and oak of copses, glades and walls, possess some talent for concocting, where Lena held the art for composing? Only one managed to form across her lips, inquisitive, but not daring to pry too far and lose the arches and lilts, the arias and ditties, of a newfound friend. “How kind of you! Do you possess the ability to mold such finery?”

She became momentarily distracted by a chirp, a kindled resonance of the kitsune, rendered into her mind, poised and twinkling, like stars in the midnight sky, clear, precise, excited. Found your Thief! And in no time at all, the notion sparked some lost momentous ruin of all her nefarious sensations, leaving them in a deep, long-lost memory, shards and portals forgotten until some other slip. Faelene, come home from the shackles of another world, another place? Kahlua must have sensed the appearance, the presence, of her too, for mere seconds later she gestured another vivacious welcome, and Lena strived to match her ebullience. Imogen sauntered ahead, blue tipped tails swinging and gliding in the wintry wind, the familiar crimson mane and ebony, inky form following close behind. The femme left Kahlua for a few moments, incapable of containing her delight, her thrill, her relish and adoration for an old friend returning from sieges and despair. Her motions, traces of joviality, of harmony, of rhapsody, followed after her voice, an outcry of happiness and enchantment derived from the deepest runes of her affections. “Faelene!” Determined not to slide across the ramparts of ice and stone, she reached the endless void of companions and extended her maw to the Thief, along her shoulder, tangling her vocals into the whirlwind of reunions and fondness. “I’m so glad to see you’re back!” There were many other things to add, to ask, to query and inquire – her steady eyes focused upon the new skin, if there were any other songs she’d have to utter and coax from her mouth to heal and mend the shattered remnants of her companion, features solidifying into a gilded form of steadfast valor. A brilliant hum bubbled along the back of her throat, an ease to the tension rendered in her blood, in the pervading truth of Faelene’s old wounds, riddled and marked with former clarity, to assuage and appease, intent upon leading her back towards the painted dame, towards safety, recollection, repose.


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

Faelene Posts: 297
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE
Sica
#9

FAELENE

if i could only go back in time

There was laughter that danced across the white plain, so strange to her ears by its innocence, but some how she knew it was not Lena's. There was momentarily quizzical look, but the further dark limbs moved she could see the figure of a black and white equine. The bemused look she had only seconds carried was reflected back, but before Faelene put much thought into it it was simply gone. This unknown lady was telling her kindly hello. The red maned broke her silence with a short, low pitched whinny to the pair, pushing her walk up another notch. When silver eyes fell to Lena, the heavy remains of her heart twisted in its cage, leg and shoulder muscles began contracting, sweeping her into a choppy trot.

"Lena!" The Thief called out in turn, and it was likely the most joyous word that had ever escaped from her lips. The red maned's heart knew how close she was now, because the Unicorn bay was every bit a of home as the evergreens, and rocky mountains. Such a sight for her sore eyes, tired of Pegasus and sand. Great parts of her ached to quiet her movement, but she was able to meet her brave, kind friend with a grand smile on her face. Inside she was singing "I made it!" and even in a stranger's presence she was about to mask that. Warmth touched her skin, fondly the dark lady brushed her muzzle to deep chocolate withers. "Yes, it has been too long," she murmured in a quiet admittance, slightly overtaken by the familiar scent of home, and the gentle caring aura of the Basin nurse. A quick blink she forced nostalgia to ease back, not ready to be drowned by it all. Lifting her crown, mindful of the weapon on her head she adjusts the tilt of her skull to look more closely upon nurse. Time had passed, but Lena had fought as well, and Faelene wanted to find no new scars upon her. So far there was only a sleek summer coat, and a silent breath of relief fell from her. One down, and so many more to see to assure all was well.

Beautiful hum began, a song that reached softly to wary cells, and eased the bits of doubts and questions that could trouble her later. It was not hard to give trust, and be assured standing by the lady she had fought beside in battle, had been through exile, and dealt with change of faces. It was with readiness, and new energy, silver irises settled from warm brown eyes to the bright blue of the equine. "Nice to meet you..." With the nurse's guidance the red maned moved closer hoping to have a new acquaintance. If Imogen and Lena had no troubles with her Faelene doubted she would either."I didn't catch your name. I'm Faelene of the Aurora Basin. Where is it you're from?" Though small talk was all she could come up with it was better than standing there and forcing a smile in awkward silence.


edenlore1234
[Image: faeleneicon.png]

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
#10

“Oh, yes! I made it myself, I'm the Glazier at the Edge.” She glowed. If she could have lifted off the ground in lightness and danced among the clouds she surely would have, hooves falling in innocent nimbus clouds that layered across the sky. She was so proud of herself, so sure that she was absolutely brilliant. The painted girl was lucky she was lovable, or else she would surely become an obnoxious burden on those she met, a woman with a head too big for her own good and nothing useful to offer. As it was, she bordered on uselessness. “When you return home you'll have to look for it! It's dark blue, in the shape of a....” Her words stopped suddenly as she trailed off, looking to the kind hearted mare. She had not meant the sculpture to be an insult, had not meant to place blame on the Basin in one way or another, but standing here now before this marvelous new friend she couldn't help but feel ashamed at the thing. The scorpion.

At least for now, she did not have to finish. The soul-warming sound of the little fox dancing back to their meeting reached Kahlua's ears, followed quickly by Lena's call. Faelene! Kahlua smiled, the whinny and bright answer of the newcomer a band-aid to heal any concern that might have developed. It was another name to remember, but she was certain she could do it. Kahlua looked over the red-haired lady, Faelene's black coat in stark contrast to the white snow of the land, and in that moment all her worries about the scorpion were gone. She did not have to explain herself for now. Thank goodness.

“I'm Kahlua, Glazier of the Edge,” she repeated once more, in response to the thief’s question and in that moment she had to wonder. How was it that she had taken to such intense dislike of the members of the Basin. Of course, they had invaded her home, she knew that... but still. Weren't these two before her just like the rest of the land? Happy, easy to talk to, welcome friends? Was it really worth living her life in fear and hatred because of one invasion? And yet, even as she thought it, her mind wandered back to Deimos and Illynx, to Ulrik and Farenjer. She did not know any of their names, but all of their faces danced before her, mocking her ideals, testing her faith in the goodness of others. Instead, she sighed, trying to shake their blackness away.

However, instead of her vision becoming clear, the darkness on the horizon continued to rise and Kahlua began to shift uneasily as she shook her head again. Was the apparition real? All at once her soul began to shake, terrible memories of the eternal night that had plagued them not so long ago fixing in her mind quite suddenly. And then her real body began to shake and her shifting turned to nervous dancing in place. “I uh... What is that?” Her tone betrayed her fear and her heart began to beat faster, whites showing around her eyes as she began to move away. Still, the darkness came ever closer. And all at once, the mare decided she couldn't it take it any longer, the menacing way in which the inky clouds covered the snowy ground and moved ever forward. The girl was losing any semblance of bravery she had found. And finally all of her fear, her jigging, her adrenaline culminated into one massive shout, so unlike the painted beauty. “RUN!” And she heeded her own advice, turning tail and taking off, hooves digging into the snowy ground. She never should have come here. Home was safe. Home was where she belonged.


OOC| Silly SWP interrupting the lovely little chat these pretty ladies were having :( Sorry for the abrupt disappearing act!!


Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#11


The genial warmth conjured and congealed against the Steppe’s merciless recoil was a breath of fresh air, and she pondered over the many things she should be grateful for, instead of the murky doldrums haunting prior exploits. The ghostly trappings, the phantom noose, the unwinding fingers drumming against her soul; unsung, unholy munitions, failed to rankle and ignite as she passed the time away, soaked in the ardor, the tenderness, the kindred spirits rising into the chilling arena. Faelene, smiling, returned, brought back from sands and slaughter into their perilous void, Kahlua, a newfound companion, christened, painted Glazier, talented and motivated to bring forth gifts (her eyes would have to catch the glassy conjectures and sculpture upon her return – she wondered what the bestowal had been, shrouded and nestled in beauty) despite past, trenchant actions. How had she come to be so lucky, to be proffered repose from the slinking, crawling, mordant exploits of yesteryear? To be permitted relaxation, tranquility, strangers becoming friends instead of snarling opponents and unabashed enemies? She returned their graces with the whimsical air of her softened grins and sanguine smiles, dulcet and wondrous, opulent and radiant, just as the way their earth should have been, resolute and adamant.

Her fortune seemed to trickle away, however, moments after. Serenity drained away from the surface, scattered across rocks, glaciers, stones, rampant and wild, touching, scarring, mutilating the incandescent traces flickering there moments before; heated, bated breath curled along the fringes of her hair, the ferocious, zealous decibels clinging in carnivore abandon. A portion of her yearned to fight the delusion, the hallucination, the chimera sprung between flights of fancy, of giggles, delights and laughter, spurn and invoke some unwelcome, frigid gaze, or stand against the meticulous machinations of sedition, revolution, stalwart, steadfast, the valorous petals strung with blooming armor. But it, this unknown force of calamity and abhorrence, chained remnants of bravery to her chest, and she could barely turn her cranium to catch the springing snow, once bright, beautiful, wonderful powder, clear beneath the moon’s rays or dazzling in the splendor of its infinite kin, flung at their small group, snarling, clicking its teeth, pursuing, hunting, gathering ichor for its swallowing, all-consuming feast of toxic indulgence. She barely heard Kahlua’s warning, couldn’t wrap her heart around Imogen’s constant snarling and ominous cries (leave, we must leave), exposed to the venomous exploits, the voracious desires of the evil slithering, piece by piece, shard by shard, threatening, portended, augured. Only when the slivers of fear sparked against her spine, true, unbidden horror and terror (so much more than what the shadows invoked, than the revelry of war bid or the burdensome images of her past composed), leapt into her throat and along the beat of her heart, did she manage to move. The glass molder had already left, blending into the earth after her screech, and Lena couldn’t allow herself to be silent, threading one desperate song into the wind, hastening Faelene to follow. “To the Basin – we must warn the others!” An abrupt swing, her movements became an uncollected regime of swift intricacies, lacking finesse, elegance and refinement in the frightening hues blinding them from sanctuary, from Elysium, quick, powerful emblems of haste, of wilderness, of blending fury and panic into a righteous determination – for if she were to be chased away from repose, from reverie, from rapture, there would be repercussions to the foils of insurrection. She refused to have her sovereign, so nearby, so close, sunken and devoured by the covetous light, by the unashamed rancor, by the callous disregard of a creeping, fortuitous menace. The nymph paused only briefly, to ensure the Thief followed, before fey and kitsune became part of the enveloping shadows, to the confines of their icy threshold and kingdom.


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com


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