"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.
02-03-2014, 04:23 PM (This post was last modified: 02-09-2014, 04:11 PM by Delinne.)
It had been a long time since we were here. My hoof prints were clear in the white layer of snow that covered my home. Cold wind bite my black skin, making me shiver uncontrollably. My son shivered as much, even if we were trying to keep warmth by walking side by side, coat to coat. Our faces and bodies were covered in small wounds as the result of our journey outside of Helovia, but we were as strong as always. We had to be. Purring vibrations wandered up my leg, and as I looked down, my dearest looked up. Dezba was scarred as well, but she was tough. Her beautiful, black-ringed fur was covered in red and brown lines of dried blood and exposed flesh while her face only wore the scars of my son's birthday. Dezba was big now, as well. Her head reached to my dark shoulder blades, as she was almost full-grown. My bonded looked at me and I caught eye contact, practically staring into her electric eyes.
There had been many - too many - who had tried to kill my bonded during our journey outside. They had seen her as a threat, something that I both couldn't understand and understood perfectly why. My bonded was a jaguar, a melanistic one who in some lands was seen as bad luck.
The only thing they had wrong was: She was my lucky charm. She was the one who had protected me and my son from the worst of dangers, she had taken the damage for us. A gash on her right hip, filled with dried blood, was the proof to just that.
My dearest wildcat still had her eyes on me and... It almost looked like she smiled at us. 'I will always protect you, Deli. We're a team, remember?' I smiled at her, locking my blue, hazy gaze on her. 'I know... We will always be a team, Dez. No matter what, remember?'
Sound of a cough made my snap my head to my other side, where my son was. He had grown so much during our journey together, from being only a little colt to a yearling. His long, dark legs were still dangly but they were stronger and could hold more. They could damage more, something that I unwillingly found out not too long ago. Aza grinned subtly at me, nudging my neck softly. "I'm okay, Mom."
I looked at him a bit longer with a worried tension in my posture. He wasn't okay, because he had been coughing for weeks now. I hoped to the deepest of my being that it was just a cold and that it would be over soon, but you never knew if the Gods liked you or not. "Aza... Promise me that you will tell me if you ever feel worse." I whispered, earning a slight nod from the golden boy.
We continued through the forests of Helovia and I almost thought we were walking in the Deep Forest, but everything looked so... Different. I barely recognized anything, because it was so dark. Everything looked dead, covered in dirt and pure darkness. Glowing eyes among the trees made us uncomfortable, but we knew that we could fight if we had to. We had practiced, trust me. Not exactly something I was proud of though. But eventually we reached the open lands, once known as the land between the Throat and the rest of Helovia. Another cough from Aza made me tense up again, but I just had to look at him to know that he was alright. My boy was big, he had a good immunity system. I hoped. The non-existent knowledge if Azarel was going to be okay was gnawing on my bones and soul, but I just had to deal with it until we found a medic. If... If there were even anyone left here.
Not a single horse had been seen since we entered Helovia and when we first left.. There had been screams. Horrible, horrible screams that left you with nightmares for weeks, making you wake up screaming in fear and sweating as if you had been running for three hours straight. Our minds were scarred and we knew back then that we would never be okay ever again. All we could do was to continue on with our lives, to leave all those screams behind and find safety. All we could do... Was to run away. I still remember the day we left as if it had been a few hours ago. I had been with Brighid, bonding and crafting a new friendship, and... Then the shadows came. Darkness. Screams that ripped your heart and very soul apart. Blood. I had taken Azarel and Dezba and just ran away from all of it.
You would think that they would understand, but... Nobody did. Not a single herd accepted us outside of Helovia. We were outcasts, wanderers who journeyed and did almost anything for just some food. We were homeless.
Dez woke me up from my memories and roared quietly. We were there. We were finally here. The heart of Helovia. It didn't look like before, because now a giant hole sloped down in it. When I tried to look down, I only saw darkness and I suddenly realized how dangerous this was. Looking at my two beloveds, I took a deep breath to steady my voice before speaking. "I'll go down first to see if it's dangerous. You two, stay up here and call for me immediately if anything - anything - happen." With that said, I walked down as carefully as I could down the hole, consumed by the darkness.
As I came down, I saw a wall of lava in front of me, flowing like a waterfall into a gigantic pool of fire. What was this place? The only reason I knew that the Heart had changed, was because of those last words I had heard before leaving Helovia. Those very last words, called out by an unknown voice. "Get into the heart."
My son and bonded stood on the brink of the slope and looked at me. Even at this distance, I could see the fear in my son's dual-colored eyes and felt the well-known urge to have both of them close to me. "Come. It's safe." Azarel went down first and he almost crashed into me as he managed to get his hoof on a spot of wet mud. Dezba on the other hand came down without any troubles at all. Our wounds burned from the heat of the lavafall, making us cringe and jinxing each other when a sigh left us all. We looked around, observing the place we never knew had existed and felt the urge to know if we were alone or not. "Erhm... Hello?" My voice was shaky from the fear that had grown attached to my heart, making me sound too insecure for my taste. I was for fuck sake an adult. I wasn't supposed to be scared... But sometimes I just couldn't help it. My son called out as well, a little louder than me and with much more confidence: "Anyone here?"
I had given up hope that Mother, Azarel and Father were going to return, only appearing before me in dreams. Even now Father's face is hazy, he had been absent for most of my days. I had been dependent on Mother for most of my childhood, because she was always there for me, a shoulder to cry on when I needed it most. Before the darkness swallowed Helovia, she and Azarel vanished without a trace, without a note to tell me where they went. I searched for them for ages, desperate to find my missing family.
I never found them.
That is, until now.
I'm nestled in a corner, feathers and down littered around me. Stress has caused me to pluck at my feathers, red and deep violet falling to the ground around my hooves. I cannot handle being alone with no one to talk to, my mind in a craze to find a soul to speak with. I had looked for eggs, nothing. I've looked for souls to converse with, none of them looked appealing to speak with. A sigh escapes my lips as I lay along, the cold stone floor pressed against my gut as I gaze at the bleak cavern walls. Doesn't my life seem so fun? I was fatigued, too depressed to lay my head to rest. I was losing some muscle as well, my wings growing stiff from staying tucked in almost all the time. There was no place for me to fly, and the caverns were so crowded, stretching my wings was rarely an option. As my eyes close, mind at ease, I hear a gentle clatter of hoofsteps.
My red eyes open almost immediately as the hoofsteps grow closer, dark ears tilting back as I watch shadows dance across the wall across from me. A larger shadow followed by a smaller one, both of them with near invisible horns along their brows. A large figure follows, not equine, but feline. My heart skips several beats as suspense befalls me, my eyes growing wider as I await the faces to be unveiled. Within a few moments the first figure is visible, my body suddenly shaking as I realize just who it is. A battered, skinny mare slinks into the light, my eyes watering profusely. My lip trembles as I gaze at her, followed by a golden body and a dark predator, suddenly realizing how much I've missed them. I'm standing up almost instantly, lanky legs carrying me towards Mother's frail frame. My words echo across the walls, hitting my ears broken and battered. "Mamma!"
This moment is joyous, my heart bursting as I race towards my mother, who appears wounded. I move forward to embrace her, awaiting to feel her warmth, to feel her dark skin against my dark violet. I'm sobbing now, too afraid to move even if she's moved from me. My emotions are toying with me, biting away at me as I stand before her. I inhale deeply, whispering as I move to bury the left side of my face into her neck, "I've missed you." I pull away to gaze into her electric blue eyes before passing her to gaze at my little brother. A smile sweeps across my face as I gaze at him, reaching forward to ruffle his forelock with my muzzle. "You've grown a lot haven't you?" I stare down at Dezba and smile at her, "same for you, Dez." I'm pleased now that I know my family is okay.. but there's just one member missing. My smile's faded as I glance around, a hopeful tone to the single word I spit out. "Father?"
02-05-2014, 05:47 AM (This post was last modified: 02-05-2014, 05:51 AM by Circuta.)
Do you know the tale of the daughter Leto, childe?
.. I do.
Allow the Nightingale to explain the mythology of the daughter Leto in what appears to be a forgotten tale of a (dying) land.
Centuries ago, in a civilization known as Kos— was born the childe Leto to the sire and dam of the Titans Coeus and Phoebe. The childe was blessed with divine allure, a seraph among her kind; a blessed woman of the night in a realm of cruelties and damnation, a salvation of her people, a gem worthy of the eye of Zeus himself. The haughtiest of the Olympians; the crowned King of his armies and ruler of the skies was a difficult creation for a mortal's eye to catch— for he was the almighty, the crowned, ichor ran in his lineage as claret runs in yours; and his infatuation Hera was that of a Queen amongst her kind. But Zeus was a fickle God, for when he believed the eye of Hera to be turned back, he danced among to the filthyness of Loorien to conceive new birth with the woman Leto, twins, in royalties and bloodline. They were to be the Moon and the Sun, opposing forces as the night is from the day, and the woman Leto to sit the throne of Olympus with her kin.
But the Queen was not so short-sighted, was not so moronic and foolish to believe in the words of her fickle lover, and so she found the seraph Leto during her pregnancy and caused the very bowels of the land to shun her, to chase and hunt, to wallow in the epiphany of her agony— but the seas took mercy on the Goddess of a mortal known as Leto and laid her upon a island separate from the waving tides themselves, to which she gave birth to the children of Zeus: Artemis, the Moon; and Apollo, the Sun.
The Nightingale once knew Leto, as well.
Her Leto's tale was much different than the fairytale of Queen Hera and her fretful jealousies at the distracting eyes of mortals, however.
All creations have a point in which they cease to form, to wage war against the elements of the earth and stars; to crumble and collapse into eradication, to fracture as a pane of glass upon elder cement. She is not sure if she has reached this point— if she has rose above the bony fingers in which grasp her throat as arctic daggers in which to pierce flesh and fragment bone, or lies beneath it's looming wings. Drink was inevitable, for she was no fool, and she would not falter at the greedy hand of death (she beckoned it at the very edges of her conscious, willing, hopeful) when the hearts and souls of those beneath her relied upon her so heavily, when her people were in desperate need of salvation. She was not a fool, no, and so her throat was not quite as dry as it had been, not quite as aching, although her pillars tremble with the almighty force of hunger; and the depths of her stomach writhe and snarl as a beast from the outside realm. The caverns are well supplied with divine air, succulent grasses and glimmering petals rising up from packed earth towards delicate tendrils of light (as if the apocalypse did not wail at their doors), but she does not take part in the feast of her kinsman. She waits, she listens, she devours each contour and curve of the caverns until she knows it as she knows the flesh on her bones, until each crevice is no different from her then the faltering mind inside her skull is her own. She cannot sleep, cannot lull the images of a rotted corpse of a dam and a clown faced ghoul of a Queen from her mind (their voices haunt her even now), and so she does not try, she does not rest among her men, does not take part in the silence so many others have come to appreciate in the anarchy that has taken over her civilization at it's very roots.
She cannot rid the image of the claret Prince from her mind, cannot wash the foul scenting stains from her dome no matter how much she washes, no matter how many flowers adorn her crown. She knows it's still there. She can feel it drip, as heavy as iron and as salty as the brine, drip drop drip drop and if they look at her as if she is a fragile container that may break at the slightest of touches they're not so far from the truth. The Nightingale has begun to count the steps in which she takes, the (precious) breath that leaves her lungs, each pounding beat of her core in her mind a lyrical chain of song and poisoned knives. They clatter and clash as the cries of war, harsh syllables and yet harsher hallucinations to etch scars within her sinew that she is well aware shall not fade nor crumble as time meanders it's agonizing way on. Jester.
And so she moves, she does not stop because she will collapse and they will chase her as daemons within her mind, she does not sleep because she is terrified to rest. Seraph.
She finds herself near the entrance of the damnation that which entombs her— a blessing and a curse, she remembers the Frostheart and his owl; the first time that seems as eons ago in her mind she traveled here alongside her brethren. She remembers when the only caverns she traversed were those of her own conscious. Apollo. Leto.
She remembers the warmth of the Sun upon her flesh, the harsh cold of the winter, the days in which she complained about the heat on her skin. She thinks she would take that back, as well, if the chance arose, she thinks she would take it all back and she would beg to the divines if she knew they would listen. Allgemeine.
But the truth is, she knows that they won't. And so when she sees a grouping of four, a purple sheened onyx woman with storms across her sinew, a young lad of gilt and obsidian, vermilion and poison; she is not surprised.
Because she knows that they aren't there. She knows the feline that prowls at the woman's side does not exist, she knows the frightened twinkle in cerulean pearls are not truly there. Because she's seen them a billion times in this same position and she knows that they aren't alive and that she's alone and that they will never, ever return and it's all her fault.
So the Nightingale is not overcome with astonishment, with joy, with happiness at their arrival. Because they have not arrived. Instead, she gazes upon them with dull intentions, unsure if the onyx and vermilion girl at their sides is a figment of her imagination, or a equine of flesh and claret as well. She thinks she's not there, she thinks she's a soul generated from the tombs of her conscious— but she isn't quite sure and so she doesn't look at them, either.
The Nightingale is starving and she's dying in her own sinew and she doesn't react, she doesn't move because if she moves they're going to disappear and she'd rather the taunting cries and the vicious insults then be alone.
She croaks out some semblance of a bitter laugh; warbling and stringent, and it caterwauls into a shuddering cough that wracks her entire, swaying, emancipated frame.
When they subside, she breathes in deep, hard lungfuls of oxygen; salty pinpricks from the coughing and the guffawing blurring her already bleary vision into near blindness, wobbly and brittle lyrics rising from her throat before she can get enough breath down into her bones. Her mind is dizzy, trembling at the edges, and she thinks she doesn't know how much longer she can take this.
"You're dead," she blinks with furious intent— attempting to clear her faltering vision. "What's it like being dead?"
She knows her reasonings, and so she stumbles forwards, despite the knowledge that they will disappear. Maybe the onyx girl will talk to her.
"You're always dead. Where were you? Where did you go?" Her voice is rising in volume, stentorian and croaky, ringing around the small space, echoing through the caverns. "Did you think I would forget? I WOULD HAVE PROTECTED YOU! I COULD HAVE PROTECTED YOU! And you LEFT ME! You.. you both.. left me. Like everyone else. You always le-ave me. Always.."
The blinking is in vain, for gallons of saltwater seem to be spilling from her eyes and there's some mundane hope that perhaps if she doesn't stop they'll rise up and drown her, she'll choke to death on her own tears and maybe she won't have to deal with this anymore.
Can you choke on your own tears? The Nightingale isn't even sure.
"No.. no you didn't. I left you, didn't I? I left you and its my fault. I know it's my fault. Why can't you stop making me remember that? Don't you think I know? I know it's my fault. You're all gone and its my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm SORRY."
She doesn't speak after that— her lyrics fading into choked little snuffles, because she can't speak and what more is there to say?
Is it possible to break a heart a million times? Because I never would've thought that my heart could break ever again, after all these years in Helovia, after everything that had happened to me. My home had been taken away from me, the herd left me on my own, my love... My love got chased away from me. Then I had been chased away from my home, my child and the herd I thought I had known so well. Apparently, it was possible to break it even more after all of that.
The voice of your own child that you haven't heard in several months, was the very thing that would make the little that was left of your heart explode into non-existence. A voice that spoke a word so powerful, so beautiful, that tears started to blur my vision. It was the echo of a word from a voice that I missed so much. "Mamma!" So much.
"Des..." My voice broke and I knew deep inside of me that if I continued to talk, I would break down. I couldn't do anything but embrace her when she was close to me, pulling her closer with my head over her withers. Oh, my dear daughter. She was sobbing and I felt how she rested the side of her face against the crease between my neck and shoulder blade.
That area was a bit sensitive due to bruising - invisible against my dark bodice - but I didn't care. I wanted my daughter as close as possible. "I have missed you too, my treasure..." Again, my voice broke even if I only whispered the words before tears started to run down my white-marked cheeks.
Destry pulled away her dark purple body from me, gazing straight into my eyes. Oh, I wish she hadn't. The eyes she used to look over me wasn't hers.. They were Azzaron's. Red gemstones of love, filled with sorrow and joy, drowning me with memories of the golden pegasus. It hurt so badly whenever I thought of him, yet he had been the one occupying my thoughts whenever I tried to come home.
The golden boy next to me smiled, too with tears in his eyes, when she ruffled his purple and red forelock. They were perfect siblings, matching colors with matching personalities. A perfect mix between me... and Azzaron. My heart flew up to my throat and I felt the lump of sorrow when I tried to clear it. Azarel wore the golden pelt from his father, decorated with flames of silver. His mane and tail were dark purple, tipped with blood. Destry, on the other hand, was the opposite. Her coat was the darkest of purples decorated with red lightnings, born with wings of bloody stars and darkness. But her hair was as light as her father's, tipped with blood just like her brother. Both of them had been born with horns upon their foreheads, colored in russian violet, even though Aza's horn had a maroon red tip.
I sighed and looked away for a short second. Azzaron had become the very reason why I still lived. His love had given me courage to go on and continue my life, if not for him... There wouldn't have been two children and a companion by my side right now. I turned my head and locked my gaze once again on the dark, young mare and felt my soul twist around when she observed our surroundings only to spit out a single word.
A single. Painful. Word. "Father?"
More tears breached the waterlines of my blue eyes, blurring my vision even more before I blinked them away. Why did she have to mention him? I did not blame my child, but it... It was just too painful to hear her say that word. It hurt even more to know that you had to say something to answer her question. "I... I don't know where he is. W-why isn't he here with you?" I stuttered and it was hard to get my mouth to cooperate with me. Then I realized.
Destry wouldn't have asked for Azzaron if he was here.
She wouldn't have looked around for him if he was here.
He simply wasn't here at all.
Azzaron had left us.
It felt like a thousand lightning bolts had hit my very being. Azzaron was dead. He had to be. He couldn't be alive with these things outside. I hadn't seen him since the birth of our son. Dezba looked up at me, mournful sadness in her gaze. No. No. 'I'm sorry, Delinne.'
To top this all off, I noticed that another one had joined our group. Someone whom she recognized with joy in the middle of the sadness. Circuta."You're dead. What's it like being dead?" What? My bonded took a step closer to the white-decorated mare while my son took a step back. "It's Indigo Eyes." He whispered, and I still couldn't get over how deep his voice had gotten in the last few months. Circuta took a step closer to them and she almost looked like she was drunk. Except, she wasn't. The dark mare was skinny and had a mad look in her - as Aza's nickname implied - indigo eyes. She had gone crazy at last. "You're always dead. Where were you? Where did you go?" "I'm not dead, Amika. But I am happy - oh, so happy - to see you again. Friend." But the mare didn't seem to listen to what I said. Her voice became louder and louder while her words continued to break down my mental state. "Did you think I would forget? I WOULD HAVE PROTECTED YOU! I COULD HAVE PROTECTED YOU! And you LEFT ME! You.. you both.. left me. Like everyone else. You always le-ave me. Always.."
No. "No.. no you didn't. I left you, didn't I? I left you and its my fault. I know it's my fault. Why can't you stop making me remember that? Don't you think I know? I know it's my fault. You're all gone and its my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm SORRY."
No.
"Amika, stop. You didn't leave us. We didn't leave you. We ran away in fear that we would be taken, but..." I gazed over my son and bonded. "...it seems like I maybe would've been safer here with you. I am so sorry, my friend. Amika..." I stepped closer to Cir, to embrace her like the sister I never had. She was like my sister. She had saved me and my family, she had saved us. "I am not dead. Can you feel my heart beat? Can you feel the warmth of my body against yours? That is real. I am real, and so is my family." I tried to smile, but the sadness forced me to limit it as a pokerface. Azarel and Dezba stood by Destry, and when I looked back at them, a smile forced away the sadness. We were here. We were safe.
We were, most importantly, alive and we would stay like that for a good while more.
"Talking." "Azarel Talking."
ooc: Q-Q word count: 1248 tagged: @[Destry] @[Circuta]
I'm sobbing into her side, unable to hold in the pain that I've felt. Questions bubble among my emotions, burning a hole in my skull as I press my face against her warm skin. I'm a child again, clinging to my mother because she is all I have. She feeds me, cleans me, watches over me as I sleep. I feel like that tiny, long-legged klutz again, tagging along by her mama, innocent as can be. I've forgotten those days, my life of hard, raw emotion sweeping me away from that innocence. I cannot breathe anymore, my tears are choking me as I press against mama. I didn't want to move, but I did anyway. I remained close to her as our gazes collided, tears falling from her dazzling blue eyes. "Why did you leave me? I- I thought you were dead." I fall back towards her warm bodice for just another bittersweet moment, another taste of serenity to keep me sane. Moving to Brother, who was also touched by the emotions that radiate from Mama and I, tears forming at his dual-toned orbs.
The bomb is dropped, a war begins between us. I can feel the pain, see it in her eyes as she hears my voice bring up The word. My heart drops, realizing she doesn't know where he is. Pain pierces me like an electric spear, shock and horror eating away at my body. I begin to crumple, knees quivering as my reality falls back down, my walls of safety being shot down with cannons of fear and pain. Father's absence.. the thought that he could be dead... it scared me so much.. made my gut twist and quiver with every breath. I cannot describe the feelings that go on in my heart, how much it hurts. I'm beginning to lose my will to stand, to be proud just for Mama.
I turn my head as a gentle clicking can be heard, a thin mare with a crazed look in her eyes approaches. I press myself closer to Mama, fearing this Madwoman and the way she speaks, staring at Mama. She says Mama is dead, and asks her what being dead is like, uneasily I glance at Mama. My body trembles, my lips shivering as I ask her who this mare is. Azarel speaks, calling the mare Indigo eyes, which makes my stomach turn. How come they knew her and I didn't? Was it because I had been absent for many a season, just as Mama and Father have? I gaze at the mare in pure terror, fear eating away at me as her unstable gaze focuses on Mama. She begins to scream at us, my ears falling to the back of my head as I gaze at her in horror.
Mama steps forward as she talks to the mare, calling her Amika. The dark blue mare steps forward to embrace the black, asking her if she could feel her heart beat, if she could feel the warmth of her skin. She glances back at us, a smile crawling across her lips. I swallow my fears and smile as well, my first smile in a long time. I glance at Azarel, my opposite. He's golden like Father, his hair dark and tipped with crimson, his dual tone eyes glimmering. And then I glance at Dezba, Mama's desired. She had grown larger, coat still black as night and eyes still bright blue. A slight shiver as I glance back at Mama and the mare, stomach knotting as I think of what that mare could do to Mama... because she didn't look healthy, her eyes were crazed, her bodice thin like she hasn't been eating for a while. Despite my blurry vision, I'm able to make out the two bodies of the mares, meaning that if I had to, I could use my magic against her. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they do just that.
Slow, weary hoofsteps ring through my ears, a hoarse yet familiar voice echoing off the walls.
"Del-Delinne?"
"blah blah blah."
ooc: gah so much painnn ; _ ; @[Circuta] && @[Delinne] word count: 677
Will you still love me
when I got nothing but my aching soul?
I am dead.
There is no life within me.
I am no longer that radiant, energetic stallion with brilliant rubies that glimmered every day. I've lost that all when my Life slipped from my hands, fading away with my son and my daughter. The only reason I breathe heavily today is because I've forced myself to hold on just for her. I've waited so long to see her again.
I strain myself just standing, my weary old bones unable to take me very far. I cannot stand the pain my joints cause me, even if my body is small and skinny, its a pain to stand for too long. My wings are bare, so much plucking has done a lot of damage to me, stress and fear the cause of it all. My ribs protrude from my sides, my cheeks hollowed and my hips poking outward in an odd way. My left hind is twisted in an odd manner, all because of the tumble I took when entering the caves. It had been a few weeks since the incident, and I knew already my leg was done for, the bone unable to heal properly. My mane and tail are no longer luscious and full, instead knotted and unkempt.
Clouded red eyes search helplessly around the caves as voices ring, my ears tilting forward as my vision fails me. I'm going blind, I have for several months now. Ever since my family vanished, I've been having trouble seeing. At this time, I can only see a few basic colors and few shapes. My runny nose twitches as I try to take in a breath, lungs in pain as I shuffle along, towards the voices. I stumble, hitting a wall and wincing as my left wing takes the damage, fragile bones cracking as I collide with the cold stone wall. The wind in my lungs is drawn forward, I desperately try to grab that air again, gasping as I'm in pain. Suddenly I can hear Her, my Angel calling out to me.
I thank Fate, moving slowly towards my darling Angel. I let loose a quiet cough as I move forward, thin tail brushing against thin thighs as I move closer. Finally I can hear them, my family. Tears are brought to my eyes as I step forward, no longer in the winding tunnel. I could smell her anywhere, even with mucus clogging it I can still smell her sweet scent, now tinted with blood. "Del-Delinne?" I can no longer hold my head up high, so I simply perk my ears and let loose a delicate smile. I rush forward, my hind leg screaming out in pain as I race for my love. My blurred vision is no aid to me in searching for her, however her voice guides me. I realize she's talking to someone, and my head turns slightly to gaze at the black and white mare. Her eyes are a faded purple, and immediately I know who it is.
She is unimportant however, for all I care about is Delinne. I reach forward, straining my weak neck as I do, wishing to touch her warm skin once again. My muzzle moves about in the emptiness, struggling to find her (did I mention my depth perception is also a little screwed up as well?). I let out a grunt as I step forward to touch her, glancing upwards to look into her sky blue eyes. Oh, those eyes. I can never forget how she uses them, the way she can use them to melt my heart, how she used them to gain my love.
I turn myself towards my children, realizing that it was pitiful appearing before them looking like this. No matter, I step towards them, taking delicate little baby steps as I reach out to touch Destry's side. I can tell she's panicked, not knowing what to do as I lean towards her. She takes a hesitant step back, a frown drawing along my lips as I gaze at her, a pathetic father who was never there for her. I merely glance at Azarel, not even bothering to touch him.
My children probably rejected me, probably hated me, because I was never there for them. Even now, I was barely here at this moment. I was so pale, my coat and eyes so dull, one might consider me a ghost. My dry, raspy throat produces no sound as I move my lips, my tears having stopped. Why? I mouth, wondering if they'll understand me or think I've gone mad. I could cry no more, for in this lifetime, I've cried all the tears I've been given. I cough and wheeze, body trembling, my breathing shallow. I struggle to speak how I feel, to apologize for my absence in my child's lives. Instead I produce a stream of spit and blood, trickling from my pale lips as I glance at Delinne. There is nothing left of me.
If I'm even here at all.
Breathing is a sudden task for me, although its been one for quite a while, this time it takes all my energy to inhale. My head throbs, my heart feeling weak as I take a wobbly step towards Delinne. Suddenly my legs give out, fading away and leaving me in a fit of panic. I realize what is happening within my body, what will happen to me within the next hour or less. My outer extremities will go first, and slowly my organs will shut down, (if a few haven't already) and slowly but surely my heart's pulse will fade away, leaving just a dull corpse behind. I look at Destry and smile, my firstborn deserves these rights. Inhaling deeply, I motion for her to step forward. Hesitantly, she does as she's told. "Remove my amulet, wear it with pride." I can tell she's afraid, her dark blob looming over me, graceful neck aiding her as she slides the amulet from my own neck, her touch is warm, just as her mother's. I inhale, pain piercing my lungs. The amulet is large on her, but she would grow into it. I glance at the blurb that is Delinne, whispering gently, "I've always loved you, don't forget it." My voice breaks as tears are summoned to my eyes, a knot forming in my throat as I begin to gently close my eyes, awaiting death to fall over me.
It seems like only a few moments that I'm laying there, lids closed over my eyes. My breathing has shallowed out, no longer strenuous as I lay on my side. I can feel Death's cold grasp begin to caress me, Death's frigid fingers sliding through my soul, It's eyes peering deeply, evaluating my life. It is true one watches their life flicker before them, their first steps, their first love, and other big events. I see Delinne's delicate features several times, and then Destry's and Azarel's, watching them age into beautiful children. I see Circuta fighting the beasts that prowl during my son's birthing, Dezba being scratched up by the creatures. I see the pale figures of Mother and Father, bathed in golden flames. They open their wings, waiting for me to step forward into their loving embrace. Hesitantly I follow them into the burning flames, letting warmth spread over me as I draw my last breath before my heart stops. My inner fire flickers out, never to light again.
"Words of a wise old man."
ooc: -curls up in corner and sobs profusely- i'm so sorry for any pain this post/thread causes anyone ; - ; word count: 1249
"When you grow old, you will die and rot on the ground, Other horses will dance when you all crumble, when your kingdom falls. When your crowns break."
02-08-2014, 12:46 AM (This post was last modified: 02-08-2014, 12:50 AM by Circuta.)
Apollo reacts to her as if she is a monster.
If only he knew she was.
The woman bathed in the light of the star's does not truly hear her, does not understand that the Spector has deemed her a title she has almost long forgotten, a name the ghouls that haunt her never deem her.
But the Nightingale hears her next words, the trepidation Leto speaks of, that the two had fled in hopes of sanctuary outside their homeland, that she may have been safer with, and the elation that begins to hesitantly bubble up within her throat at the meager hopes of these two not figments of her fractured cranium rises as the wind within a storm. She comes forth, the storm blessed flesh of her friend against her own clammy frame, and the tremble that stutters out in the stead of words is soft as rainwater. "You're real?"
But they do not have long for celebrations, for from the shadows comes forth the aureate frame of Zeus, diseased in appearance, malnourished and emancipated, and her frame goes still with fright.
She only watches in horror the proceedings, the saliva mixed with claret that is spat from his mouth, until he drops as a dead weight upon the ground.
He doesn't move again.
The Nightingale recalls the taste of claret upon her tongue, harsh in it's realizations, the flavor of the tides on a warm summer's eve, she remembers the damp splatter of vermilion against a chaste childe, she remembers the sound of her dam drowning in her own life's fluids. She remembers the startled inhale, the glaze of once vivid honey pearls — she remembers and so she is damned to the voices that ricochet as gunfire within her mind. And when the second screech rises in a choir of echoes between cavern walls, when argentate flames blind her vision in the sure and complete illuminance of their brilliance, she is lost, a vagabond amidst her own memories.
The first thing she comprehends when the terrors of twilight end is the daemon upon her croup, the scalding breath upon her withers, the bile that rises as a swelling wave against her sinew is the liquid that dribbles into her nostrils, the vibrance of ripe strawberries and the bitterness of the brine, the stickiness of it's embrace. The second thing she comes into remembrance of is the bosom pressed into her dome, the source of the stickiness that dribbles as slaver down into her lashes, the banshee's wail of agony, the star-kissed flesh she recognizes as easily as the skin on her back — and when the childe of the Revere, the last remaining bloodline of the Sorcerer, Parvon, finally manages to rip free the scythe from her dam's bodice, it is far too late for childish apologies and fretful medics. For the Revere's last glance of the realm of Loorien is seen within glazed amber, the heavy and wet thud of her frame against the earth and the crack of skull on stone her last words, the final breath drawn from shuddering lungs resulting in spittle laced claret, gurgling within her throat. But what confuses the young Nightingale is that her dam does not move, does not herald the beat of confounded men with a thrum of her heart, does not whisper sweet nothings and promises of love and forgiveness into her dome, and the high-pitched words that escape her maw are tremulous in nature, a shuddering cry against parched lips. "Mom? Mom, I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to. Mom? I-I can go get a healer, if I must, Mom. Mom..? MOM, MOM! Wake up, Mom, w-waaake up, pl-ease, Moo-m.."
.. But until the russet hued morn fell upon her civilization, until the ship of her sire found the girl standing still above the still frame of her dam, the wind was the only response she would receive in return for her efforts, it's gentle caress the only comfort she would find (for many eons to come).
When she is dragged forth from her memories, set sail upon new waters, she finds the stench of death in her nostrils, the crying frame of a silver blessed childe standing above his sire's corpse, and the trepidation that boils inside her bosom along with the abundances of grief and sorrow scalds her, burns her as the wake of tears along her cheeks. Leto has fallen to the earth, trembling frame, and her voice croaks from her lungs. "Zeus, no."
The Nightingale suddenly feels enervated, as if the weight of the realm has been draped across her withers, as if her veins have turned to led — the wobbly song of her voice aches, the back of her throat aches, the violet pearls set within her dome sting and flare akin to salt pressed into fresh wounds.
She had learnt long ago that the world was unfair in it's cruelties, endless in it's rage, a force unable to be reckoned with by divine nor mortal, the childhood tales of joyous after endings as false as she was the Goddess of the Lunar realm above.
A dry wail escapes her alabaster lined lips. "Zeus, Zeus no, no no no."
It is the only thing the Nightingale feels capable of saying, for she is aware she cannot heal the dead, cannot undo the tug of the Reaper himself, cannot give salvation to the ruined. What more can she do? What more is there to do?
She feels the woman's icy gaze upon her flesh rather than see it, almost expectant in it's silence, and the resolute and hoarse echo of her voice escapes her maw, rough in it's timbre. "We bury him. It's — it is what separates us from the beasts that prowl at our door." The Nightingale does not meet Leto's gaze. "It's.. it is only moral, it reminds us we are alive, with consciousness, the opposite of the monsters that seek our demise."
She swallows, for she cannot allow them to do the deed themselves, cannot allow them to do so on their own. "I'll.. I'll do it, Leto."
--
This post is bad because I wrote it on my cell. Many apologies.
Slight PP for future knowledge is given permission to by Ina, to know what Azarel and Delinne are doing.
And the hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.
You know that feeling when the world explodes and your life flashes by? The world inside of you, I mean. It's one of the worst feelings ever, I can tell you that. When you think the one you love the most is dead, there's no worse feeling than when you turn around and see them standing there, very alive, only to die right in front of you. You feel as if you are psychic, but it's not as great as one may think. At least... I didn't think so.
When I turned around to see to whom the echoing hoof steps belonged to, I did not expect him. Him. He was only skin and bones, looking dead already, but I felt as if my heart stopped beating and imploded in my chest. My soul broke down and even Dezba shivered from all the strong feelings radiating from my body. And I was certainly not prepared for the moment when he spoke my name. I was not prepared... At all."Del-Delinne?"
He walked until he was close enough to reach out to me, yet he didn't reach me. The red gemstones that had once been filled with life, joy and love were clouded. Dead. Dimmed by the darkness and loneliness that I had caused him. I couldn't move. Every bone in my body had turned to stone, making it impossible for me to even move my mouth to say something. All I could do was to let the tears fall down my cheeks, letting them fall onto the ground. All I could do was to stare at him. My tongue refused to cooperate with me, leaving me with an open mouth and trembling lips. He looked me in the eyes, and I couldn't move my gaze away. I stared into the dimmed rubies and the memories of our time together flashed before me as if it had all happened just a few hours ago. I remembered it all. When we met at the Thistle Meadow, he had flown down from the sky on steady wings filled with lush feathers and he had landed - not so gracefully - before me to take me by surprise, only to charm me with his kind and joyful personality. A day later, we had met in the Deep Forest, where we told each other our pasts. We had accepted each other and the love had sparked, leaving me with new hope about my future.
This couldn't be the same stallion.
We had then conceived Destry, without me knowing it at first, and met by the Secret Grove to confess our true love to each other. He had shown me his magic, which seemed to have left him as he stood before me now. There was no fire in his eyes, there was no warmth. Only a grey cloud over the passion that once had been so visible in his red gaze. Why had this happened to us? Why did only sadness follow our hoof steps? I had then been stolen by the Foothills, waiting throughout almost the whole pregnancy until he found me and saved me. We had wandered around, ending up on the Meadow once again where I birthed Destry. No, this couldn't be the same stallion. This wasn't the same stallion who had helped me when I was giving birth. This wasn't the stallion that I had thought so badly of and left. I left him. More than once. He had come to see me and Destry in the Basin weeks later, when I was at my worst. And... I had just let him go. I let the others chase him away. I thought he had lied to me.
Why did I ever do that?
And when he had been stolen by the Reaper... I did nothing. He saved me once, and I did nothing to save him. I only watched from a far and cried. Destry only met her father three or four times. Azarel spent his first year only meeting his father twice and the second time they met, Azzaron died.
I could only watch as the golden pegasus turned to our children. He took a step closer to them, touching Destry carefully. I saw the panic in her eyes, the fear. And Azarel... He didn't even touch his son. Didn't even look at him. Was he ashamed? Was he embarrassed that he hadn't been a part of our children's lives like I had been?
The peg glanced at me again, turning his head to me and I let out a shocked gasp when I looked at his lips. Blood. There was blood, coming out of his mouth. The red drops fell to the ground, creating small puddles. He took a step closer to me... and fell to the ground just like the bloody drops had. "No..." I whispered. I stared with an open mouth, trembling lips and teared up eyes. Why couldn't I move? I could only watch as he called Destry forward, telling her to remove his amulet. No. Dezba stepped closer to me and sat down next to me, staring at Azzaron just like I did. My daughter did as her father said and removed his amulet from his neck, letting it fall over her head and set itself on her dark body.
No. No. NO.
The golden stallion gave me a final glance with his clouded eyes, and it almost looked like he smiled. I felt my heart break down. Implode. My whole inner being imploded and exploded. "I've always loved you, don't forget it." And he was gone. And, finally, I could move my lips. "AZZARON!! NOOO!" I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
I felt as if I just broke, as if my whole body just exploded into millions and billions of different pieces. My legs wouldn't support me anymore and I just fell down, hitting the ground hard enough to leave a bruise on my thin legs. I just screamed. My son stood on wide-set legs, trying to keep his balance as he stared with tear-filled eyes at his dead father. And there was fire.
My son was on fire.
"AZA!" My scream came out silent and my lips' movement was the only evidence of me saying the golden boy's name. Azarel on the other hand didn't say a word, he only stared at his father with shock in his dual-colored eyes while he burned in silver flames. The white fire licked his skin without even harming him, lighting up the whole cave that we were in. He didn't even seem shocked by the fact that he burned, that his shoulder was being licked by silver heat. I shuffled away from him as good as I could, staring at the bright light. I could feel it hurting my eyes, but it didn't matter. My son was on fire. He only stared, tears wetting his golden cheeks. "Father... FATHER!" At last he moved and I watched as he fell down next to his dead sire. He was still on fire, but the flames didn't harm anyone. They didn't start to lick my loved one's skin or feathers, they only caressed the light gold surface as if it was an old friend. "Dad, please... Please start breathing again. I... I wanted to get to know you. I need you, by my side. Mom needs you. Sis needs you. Please, Dad, breathe." The colt's body started to tremble and I heard him sob, mourning his dead father that he never got to know. Mourning the winged stallion whom he had only known for a short while.
I didn't know what to do. I had never been prepared for this. When my mother had died, my father had only told me to forget about her and move on... But I was better than Treand. Azzaron had meant something to me, and he was the father of my two children. My dark, lightning-marked body started to tremble just like my son's and I felt the sorrow drown me like a wave of the ocean. Azzaron was dead. I was alone, with my desired and my two kids. Dezba put her paw across my right front leg, which was bent halfway in front of me, and looked up at me. The cat's eyes said it all. 'We have to raise two kids all alone. We can do it. We are strong. Deli, we can do this. We're a family. A team. Remember?' How could there possibly be so much wisdom inside of a jaguar's skull? How could there be such a good friend - no, soulmate - in such a dangerous animal? I kissed the cat's forehead, feeling the scars scratch against the velvet skin of my lips. She had been there for me and my family since we first met. She had saved us several times, more than I could count, and I trusted her with my family's and my life.
Suddenly I remembered Circuta, who still stood by my side. I turned my head and looked up on my friend, watching her. What was going on inside her mind? One second, Azzaron had stumbled in here alive, but the next, he had fallen dead onto the hard cave ground. Oh, my soul ached at the very thought of it. I lowered my gaze onto my dead lover, listening to my friend's shaky words. Azarel had laid his head across the destroyed wing of his sire, a wing that had once been covered with fiery colors but now was plucked, consisting of bones and skin. My son was still burning, his eyes closed with tears running down his cheeks. His whole body was shaking.
Why us?
Did the Gods hate us?
"We bury him. It's — it is what separates us from the beasts that prowl at our door." Shocked, I looked up at her. And with the strength I carried deeply inside of me, I stood up. My knees were shaking and for a second I thought I was going to fall, but I managed to keep my balance. "It's.. it is only moral, it reminds us we are alive, with consciousness, the opposite of the monsters that seek our demise.""Mother... What is she talking about?" My son now stood up as well, looking down at the ground but I caught him glancing under his red and purple forelock. His normal eye, the red one, was swollen and red where the white should be seen. The blue one had a purplish tint instead in the corners. I looked over at Destry and then finally at Dezba. The black cat nodded slightly at me, and I turned my head back to Circuta.
"Amika..." But I didn't come far when the black mare spoke again. She didn't look at me, but I could see it in her indigo eyes that she was sad. Circuta had only met Azzaron once, so I didn't understand why she did this. 'She's doing this for us.' I heard Dezba's well-known voice in my head and sighed. Only seconds later I heard Circuta again. "I'll.. I'll do it, Leto." It hurt inside of me when she said the name that she had always called me. I was Leto to her, as well as she was Amika to me. My friend. "O-Okay, Amika. I... Thank you." I whispered, looking at her longer than I had to, before I turned to my children. Azarel was looking at me with a frown on his pale lips. His shoulder wasn't burning anymore, all that was left was the silver flames that he had been born with. Markings that he would never be able to remove. Markings that I now knew contained magic. "We... We should go further into the cave." I glanced back at the mare I called a friend. She did this for us. She helped us. 'And we shall return the favor whenever she desires it.' My blue eyes glanced at Dezba and I wanted to smile, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to smile for a good while. Nothing would ever be the same.
I knew that I would never ever love someone as much as I loved Azzaron - bless his soul - but I had to be strong. I had to fight, survive, win over the sorrow and darkness. For the kids.
For myself.
For us.
"Talking." "Azarel Talking."
ooc: ;______; word count: 2057 tagged: @[Destry] @[Circuta]
02-08-2014, 06:50 PM (This post was last modified: 02-08-2014, 06:50 PM by Destry.)
I never thought I would be this sad, not even the past few seasons can compare to this — my entire life — cannot compare to this moment. There is so much joy, so much pain that floods my body as I watch the damaged figure hobble out into the light, bones protruding from his dull golden coat. His mane and tail are falling out in tufts, his skin appearing irritated, coat rubbing off. I cannot tell anyone how much I wanted to beg the Gods to tell me it wasn't real, it was just an illusion, and that my real father was actually fine, appearing healthy as can be. He calls out Mama's name, his voice raspy and painful to listen to, because it sounds nothing like the sweet, caring voice he once held. He steps towards her, my magic stirring as he gets closer — and closer to her. My heart stops, my body tense as he stares blankly into her blue eyes, as though he knows where they are but cannot focus upon them.
Oh my Gods.
He turns, unsettling cloudy rubies falling upon me, who's frozen in place beside Brother. Inside there is panic, my body trembling slightly as the ghastly stallion approaches, reaching out to touch me. I panic, stepping back to avoid the touch of his dry muzzle. He frowns, cracked lips curving down as he merely glances at Azarel, walking right past him. There is some type of pity, some feeling that I'm given as I watch Father walk past Azarel, only offering him a glance.
Then — it happens.
I can see shimmering crimson droplets falling to the ground from his lips, sunken orbs beginning to glaze over. I know exactly what is happening, glancing at Mama with fear in my eyes, awaiting her reaction.
She stands there, frozen in place just as I.
I'm called forward by Father, hesitant to take orders from a man I barely know. Nevertheless, I take small steps towards him, heart racing as he commands me to take the amulet from around his neck. With shaky movements, I remove it from his neck, and let it fall to my breast, the fiery gem clinking against my dark chest. His eyes glaze over completely, closing slowly as he whispers his love for Delinne, sighing as his breathing shallows —
Then stops.
I watch and wait, mother's screams echoing through the caves. I do not move, my eyes glued to the body — the stallion, that was once my father, the stallion who helped me lift off from the ground, the one who constantly chased me and Mama when we were in the Basin, the one who wouldn't give up on us no matter what.
Look where it placed him.
I watch as a blinding light flickers into the corner of my vision, where Azarel stands. Turning my head, I see silver flames licking at his thigh and his shoulder, consuming his white markings, leaving the skin unharmed. I cannot manage words, listening to Mother panicking over his newly found magic. I finally manage to move myself, stumbling like a drunk towards my father's body, my legs giving out from beneath me. I wrap my neck around his, feeling the last of his warmth fade, an ominous cold feeling seeping through his skin into my own.
I never meant to do it, to let it happen.
In a fit of rage at the world, I scream out, my tears staining Father's dirty coat. Spit dribbles down my chin as I scream, my throat beginning to go hoarse. Red lightning flashes, striking a rock off to my left, watching it sizzle and crackle, charred. I'm breathing heavily, sweat beading on my skin. I take deep breathes, trying to calm myself. I take a mouthful of his sleek, golden feathers, the few survivors of his stressful plucking. I take three, walking towards Mama. I reach up, beginning to weave the golden feathers into her mane, behind her ears. I jump to Azarel, beginning to weave a feather within his mane, the same place I had weaved Mama's. I remember Cir, and offer her a feather as well, hesitant as I approach the strange, unstable mare. I raise my crown, beginning to weave the golden feather into the mare's silken black mane, stepping away to admire my handy work before I offer the two last feathers to Mama, hoping she understood what I wanted her to do. She does, stepping forth to weave the last two feathers behind my ear before resuming her original position.
I lay down now, on my side, and curl up next to father. His feathers rustle behind my ear, an unfamiliar feeling brushing against the back of my lobes. I weep, shutting my eyes and wrapping myself in his unfurled wings, using my teeth to pull his limp, near bear wing over me. I then sob under his protection, whispering to him in choking, painful gasps.
"Daddy... why did... why did you... l-leave me?"
"blah blah blah."
ooc: ; ______ ; @[Circuta] && @[Delinne]
(given permission to pp delinne, azarel & circuta to put feathers in their manes and to aid in putting feathers in destry's mane.) word count: 832
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