| Hidden Falls Genetrix I atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 HH :: 11 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Skýlos :: Pit Bull :: None
Bunnie |
I’m back here, in this dark place with ruddy red light bleeding across my bodice and tinting me lavender in the flickering shadows, my mental bond with Skýlos telling me that she is not far off in a nearby cavern and has found something that greatly amuses her. Its best that she is distracted; I myself have no room left in my thoughts for her whims of fanciful capriciousness, my eyes sweeping across the stone face that Quilyan had mentioned those long months ago when he and I had first discussed the writing with… Tangerine? Tangaree?
No, Tangere. I hadn’t cared for her then and obviously my heart has softened none towards her in our absence from one another.
My focus is held upon the top line, the etchings seemingly the most archaic in their structure and the oldest in the room if the way they have worn is any evidence. There is a circle drawn at the very peak of it all with radiating lines rising from its circumference, initially believed to be a sun until I took note of the various, squiggled etchings within the circle itself that mirrored land masses. It was a world, then, and below it four more symbols, one of which was indeed a Sun, its centre marked with flames; the other three are also indicative of Gods of nature, a water drop encircling a tree bough or a Moon rising along the edge of a cliff face, rippling lines of wind streaking its picture, lastly a bolt of lightning ensnared by the lines of a time keeping device.
It’s very basic, at least this far. It seems the people of this land had first tried to draw a picture for every word to describe their origins, the Gods leading way to pictures that seemed to describe the lands that existed here; the pictures suggest, if I read them correctly, that the earth was made in the same day as the four Gods, and that the Gods gave life to the lands their people came to live in. I know from my flight that there are four lands in this kingdom that house enough members to call them herds, though I have stepped hoof in only one; most intriguing about this story is that the mountain land to the north is not included as a place that was shared with the Storm God’s people; the lines running from his image in the stone to his homeland end there, leading not to a small etching of several horses standing alongside each other but rather a circle with the core carved out of it and lines running from the right and left.
Its here I’ve become stuck.
There are no etchings that seem to explain why it is the Spark’s kingdom was filled with nothingness rather than life as that of his siblings, but it is all I can decide that they mean and so I sigh restlessly in my inability to come to a logical conclusion. I guess I shouldn’t stress it so deeply; surely it will explain more of this conundrum deeper into the story, as I’ve barely made it past the first month of life in the world as the ancient Helovians had come to view it.
"Well, then let’s see…" I muse aloud, lowering to the next row that seems to discuss the powers granted to the first people of each land, suggesting that once the power of the God of each place had been allotted only to those who knew their love and comfort, until I find a universal symbol that shows the magic dispersing across the same image of the earth that had been written at the peak of it all. All these things happened with one another, is my conclusion. The earth was made, the Gods were born, and from them came the people and great power. It then becomes harder to decipher what is being told as it seems the stone workers discovered that there were far too many words to have a symbol for each; the etchings become more reminiscent of those in the Glowing Room, though still not quite as advanced, as the tale relies heavily on large symbols that are whole words rather than letters.
I glance over my shoulder at the faint light pouring in from the entrance to the hole in Helovia’s Heart, deciding the day is slipping by slowly enough that I can spend an hour or two more learning how to read the great tale that wraps all about this underground haven.
[ OOC: Open for any! <3 ]
C e a l e s t i s</style>
who knows how deep the heart runs</style>
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Credits
Magic/physical violence allowed to be used upon Cealestis at any time, so long as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission.
 OBERON
These are hard times for dreamers and love lost believers
For the first time he found himself devoid of cause, a mercenary deprived of the shine of coin, unfulfilled promises and blood-drenched battlefields. A mere shell of the former stallion that had stood upon the same framework remained, the entirety of his being inundated in a marinade of nothingness. Astray and wayward, he had lost his path, held in place only by the mind-forged manacles of his own sanity.
No aims of destinations had plagued the mind as it had swayed to the rhythm of his movements, the body outrunning the responsibilities of the mind. The body did however, bruised and weary, eventually have its differences with the nonchalance of his thoughts. As he had descended upon the ever-burning flames it had reached the brink of its ability as knees collapsed under his sable stature. Sleep however, gave no consolation for the wretched as he drifted in and out of consciousness, the skin contracting under the Heart’s warm caresses.
Oberon was not able to distinguish his surroundings as they blurred and shifted before the sandbanks of Elysium towered above him, covering the sun as he stood in the casted, wringing shadows. Why here? He took an almost hesitant step forward, the soft ground underneath him giving out a gurgle as he reluctantly realized that this was anything, but shadows. “DIE. DIE LIKE ALL THE OTHERS.” Scavengers charged towards him, pecked at his eyes and slashed his skin as they began to devour him alive. Then he fell, fell through vaguely familiar memories, sequence by sequence playing on repeat before it all went black once again.
The obscurity turned to light as he regained awareness, not remembering having dragged himself into the cave by the Heart. Slouched against a corridor wall by some sort of entrance he was nearly as astounded by the sight of a blue hued mare that stood across the room, deeply engrossed by ornamented cave walls. He closed his eyes, slouching even more against the soothing cold of the walls. «Do you believe ..» Languid words cast in the malice of double entendres resonated across the cave walls. «.. In them?» Do you believe they are capable of solicitude, of redemption? What if it only gets colder?
|| OOC: He has varying sizes of blisters and second-degree burns that he is unaware of, it stretches over his right side. Infection is slowly eating away his mind, speech and ability to feel pain. He also has a bad fever that makes his thoughts incoherent and gives him bad fever dreams. *Coughs* Me is a little rusty, jaja? *Joints screeching*
| Aurora Basin Medic atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: Six Years | Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Phrixus :: White Raven :: None
Psilo |
The walls pulse with warmth, Tangere lets the smell of stone and wet curl into her sensitive nostrils; memories flow back into her mind, memories she’s let go since her last visit. It seems as though she simply left everything and everyone hanging. Her family, the Basin, will surely forgive her and Lena will almost certainly still dole out the Medic teachings, but all others have casted her outside their thoughts. She’s mostly ignored now, unlike when she first arrived. She does not mind it for now; her lonely adventures keep her busy and sharpened. Those mountains though, their bones call for her, they mutter sweetness into her own skeleton, drawing it out into the open and upward to the raw temperatures and sometimes snowy terrain. She tells the peaks to wait for her, she has one more thing to attend to first.
Phrixus shifts into a comfortable position across her withers. He is brilliantly white, the afternoon sun illuminating the pearly metallic of his long, elegant feathers. He looks much better now than he did during the darkness’ suffocation left Helovia. He was hatched just after the major event and everyone was still reeling from it, including his companion. His eyes are cold blue, icy and hollow; wide and piercing. His beak and feet are black, underneath his white plumage, so is his skin.
The pair makes their way down into the mouth of the steamy cave, Tang’s hooves clicking off of the moist stone she floats across it. Her stout, muscled legs appear to move separate from her head and neck which are propped tightly upright with big and very aware chocolate eyes darting around. She was looking for Quilyan, but she sees Cealestis instead, without Quilyan. This mare, last time they met, seemed dismissive and rather rude, but Tangere isn’t going to be picky. Before she can slide up to the mare and say something quiet and clever she hears something to the far left of her. A young [near her age] stallion slumped against the stone, not looking well. Tangere’s head cocks sideways like an intrigued puppy and as if to a queue, the white raven atop her withers swoops down to land in front of the stallion to examine him. He hops from one side to the other, never touching the horse, just peering.
“You ok, dude?” She leans her face toward him, forgetting about Cealestis for a moment.
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- You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
- Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:
| Hidden Falls Genetrix I atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 HH :: 11 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Skýlos :: Pit Bull :: None
Bunnie |
My silence is disturbed before too long, first by the arrival of Dog from the crystal labyrinth, caught from the corner of my gaze as she bounded out of the chasm of its mouth towards me with tongue lolling and hind legs flicking up and towards her right side in her rather odd, sideways charge. I dodge as she leaps, white teeth clicking on empty air and the sound of my laughter meeting her ears that she has failed to surprise me yet again.
" Boró̱ na aisthanthó̱ ti̱n kardiá sas," I explain to her for the hundredth time, and she cocks her ears back in displeasure of my chiding, a dark silhouette near the entrance drawing both of our interest as the sadness of my dog meets me (adding more proof to my words); turning to face him as my idiot leaps forward a few paces and stands in a fierce stance, I find that whoever it is seems to wish to be left alone, slumped peacefully against a wall near the entrance.
It is male, anyway.
I return to my wall and Skýlos lays down on a bed of moss nearby me, shutting her blue eyes and attempting to slip away as I look back to the symbols that allude me.
But, ah, there is something I have missed, areas where the stone has ebbed away with the flow of time, the markings faint…
These Gods.
They were not born all at once, nor was the earth upon which they ruled.
My eyes broaden, I step closer to the stone; Dog’s head rises from her rest and I think, at first, that it is only my momentary thrill of excitement that has disturbed her, but soon the figure speaks some cryptic words into the cavern and another familiar voice chimes in after him.
My ears flatten atop my head, icy eyes piercing as they narrow and flit towards the duo with disgust for disturbing me at such a pivotal moment. Snorting with aggravation as I trot towards them both, a blend of concern for the question posed by Tangere and dark, violent loathing instigated by the pretty tattoos along my pelt racing through my core, I hear Skýlos’ paws clicking along the stone behind me, the ripples of her heart reading that she is excited to meet one I know and that she is concerned, as well.
Her concern, however, is deeper than mine. I glance down to her, scenting the air with my dark nares more fully to find infection, sweet and putrid in the stale winds, emanating from the stallion whom lies on the cool stone.
Raising my wings high above me as I approach so that I can slip in alongside Tangere without having her touch them, I look down at the black and white smut on the cave floor and gasp. " Glykó anémous," I breathe, looking over to the unicorn with the air of one who finds another incompetent and asking stupid questions.
He is, quite obviously, not alright.
Dog’s sharp, high noted whine follows my utterances of horror and shock.
"Aníkani̱ sklávos, Tangere," I say, looking still to the dappled unicorn and deeply thankful for dumbness of this land in so far as my native tongue is concerned (for it allows to me to vent my frustrations upon her without wounding her heart and the insult could simply be my befuddlement getting the better of my abilities to name the stupid girl), "how far is your home from here?" Frustrated as nine hells compressed into the heart of a snowflake, I look down at the plain wretch dying in the caves and wonder, as the bell tolls louder than my heart, why it is I direct one slave to save another.
They serve me no uses; neither of them are of my chosen home and I cannot own them in this land. There are none I have seen who use their wit and treasures to hold rights over the lesser creatures they meet in their lives, and for perhaps the thousandth time since coming here I long for my darling hand maidens and all their skills.
All I had taken advantage of, believed to be something integral in other lands and easily found outside the confines of my prison, was back home in that dark cell. I could not call to them, my Purrhos was two years away from me and, while I had her knowledge locked within myself, I did not have her satchels full of instruments and herbal salves.
"No matter," I snap, the combination of my studying being ruined by dying slaves and idiots and my longing for my old life with new baubles bubbling over as I stamp a dark dipped leg down and my Dog cowers back a pace, feeling the undulations of my heart as I combat the poison and my own tender, disgustingly weak needs to help, "your legs are slow. Wait here. Skýlos, akolouthí̱soun, leave the sklávoi."
And with that, we are out into the sunlight again, wings spread broad and directing our path back towards the rolling and verdant hills where, surely, there are the herbs I will need or another who holds the magical ability to restore him to wellbeing.
And suspended this way, the world flecks of blurry color cloaking the sheer white of low laying clouds… I can breath.
[ OOC: Cealestis is off to the Hidden Falls to get herbs/maybe a healer to help patch Oberon up. :3 She’ll be back next round when I’m due to post.
Translations;
”I can feel your heart,”
”Sweet Winds,”
“Incompetent slave,”
“Follow,” “slaves,” ]
@[Oberon]
C e a l e s t i s</style>
who knows how deep the heart runs</style>
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Credits
Magic/physical violence allowed to be used upon Cealestis at any time, so long as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission.
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