"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.
07-08-2014, 10:20 AM (This post was last modified: 07-08-2014, 10:21 AM by Zikar-Sin.)
....Did that hurt you...?
The sky was a brewing shade of sun and raspberries, the tint growing ever milder as the morning began its ascent from behind the deepest trenches of the mountain ranges to start the day. As it was, the light of the sun was an abysmally faint thing, subdued as it was by the shadow of the north; the sky, however, sparkled and shown overhead with the glittering green tapestry of an aurora. Even now, the vibrant, shimmering emerald ribbons began to fade with the coming light of day—though for the moment they persisted in the early morning skies, a proud adornment for the clan of worthy unicorns below.
The stage was set thus as Zikar-Sin set himself up on the shores of the crystalline lake, set apart somewhat from the mundane flow of the citizen’s day-to-day business. Around him he had placed a couple of artifacts; to his left, a bouquet of alpine flowers, just picked earlier that morning, still vibrant in color and sweet-smelling; and to his right-- a skull. A horse’s skull. The skull of a long dead equine, eradicated of that awful, glorious plague that had reigned for some time across the land. It was chipped in some places, surely, but Sin was rather proud of the preservation of that particular artifact. If anything, it was perfect specimen for the children to observe.
Oh, the children! Sin took in a deep breath of the chilled morning air, releasing it in a burst of excitement. For all of these preparations were done with the children of the Basin in mind; he had even set up a pile of soft rushes before him, a mix of dried grasses, loam, and down feathers he had collected, if any of the smaller children felt the need to lie down during his narratives. For today was the day; he was named Haruspex, of course, and it was not only a privilege, but a duty to educate the younger ones on the finer points of their heritage. To learn was surely an apt passion for the scholarly stud; the chance to teach and instruct, however, was another kettle of enthusiasm in its own right.
“Children!” he called—or trilled somewhat, as was the case—looking around with a great, happy grin and his monocle freshly cleaned and sparkling bright, “Gather, children, I have stories for you!” No doubt it would be some moments before any child would venture near—it was so early, and he wondered if any of the foals had been conditioned to awaken before the sun’s rays were even visible—but he didn’t fret, as content he was with the proceedings.
[Open to ALL foals in the area, not just Basin ones. SINNY'S GONNA LEARN YA A THING :D ] ...Forgive Me...
07-08-2014, 11:57 AM (This post was last modified: 07-08-2014, 11:57 AM by Rikyn.)
What if this whole crusade's a charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
I stretch heartily outside the cave while momma tutters about telling me I need to hurry up and rouse myself to begin the day. I wonder why it is we are always about so early quite often until mother gets drawn away on some errand or another before I remember that her life requires such things; I cannot understand, however, why it is I have to be involved. As I rise, I hear the friendly chirrup of mother’s griffon as she bounds across the tops of the boulders that have long since situated themselves at this particular area, her wings catching the wind slightly as she hops from stone to stone and drift her safely across the too far to leap spans.
I like Kyst; she’s pretty like Irelyn and she keeps mother distracted from me, because she’s so small and helpless and I’m growing stronger and stronger every day. Fully lifted from my stretching I dart back towards the owl-cat, mocking her pounce as I reach the boulder she’s about to take off from. The griffon makes a meowing sound as she arches her back up and reaches out with a single fore claw to swat playfully at my face, and I flip my nose up and out of the way with a rippling laugh just as a call breaks through the morning.
I look over to momma, wondering if she heard what I just did.
Her brows knit upwards in humored delight, a smile breaking her lips as she looks over to me. ”I will see you this afternoon, then,” she says resolutely before nodding in the direction of the summons – somewhere towards the lake and the cave with the Mirror she won’t let me near. Something about it having been broken before…
I nod with a glinting smile and turn to leave, glancing back over my shoulder at her before I go. "I have things to do today?" I ask, wondering if her statement had implied that there was work beyond going to see whatever it was the Haruspex wanted. She laughs, like she often does when I speak my curiosities aloud and am wrong.
Mean, stupid bitch.
”Nothing more than the usual,” she tells me with her sugary smile, and I nod and flash my fake smile again before I’m out on the wooded trails that lead along the eastern border.
When I lay my golden gaze on the lakeside, its not hard to pick out Zikar-Sin among the pearly shoreline. He’s a dark color and his mane seems to glow in light, only adding to the air of madness that seems to follow him everywhere. I don’t mind him that much, though. He’s a good guy, I think – just a bit nutters, and momma had said he was a good friend to have. She said there was a story as to why, but hadn’t told me that one as of yet; we were currently in the middle of her own life tale and the wild eyed Haruspex was not a part of that story at the moment and I know better than to ask her to skip through the boring political intrigue of her and my Aunt Psyche.
I trot up to him and plaster a smile on my face, knowing from watching momma that this simple trick works more magic than its innocuous appearance can give on. I guess some of it does mean something, because I do feel a certain fondness for the crazy Time Seer – he’s one of the few adults who’s ever paid me any mind as more than a side decoration for my dam. "Good morning, Master Haruspex," I chime with my charming little boy’s voice, wondering each day when it will deepen into the rich velvet tones of my father and his cousin, the one called Torleik, "what sort of story?" I ask with multiple purposes in mind; mostly because I don’t want to hear more bullshit about the unicorn regime and my mother’s great prowess (cue the scoff) but also because I’m genuinely interested. I glance at the things he has brought with him, looking at the bald skull curiously for the space where a horn should be and finding none.
It was once like Kahlua, whoever this was, and it holds my eyes even if others arrive or the Haruspex answers my inquiry.
The other things are innocent enough; some flowers and places on which to lay, which I happily settle into (I am barely awake, after all) without breaking my eyes from the skull.
For the blood on which we dine
Justified in the name of the Holy and the Divine.
The stretch of morning, with its crisp hues and spellbinding colorations, was met at his father’s side, drifting in the callous wake of the Reaper’s fortress and border tending, enfolded and tucked in his shadow, yawning and unwinding from midnight dreams. As the sire, lord, sovereign moved, the child basked in his veil, in his cloak and daggers, thought of all the ways power was sought, claimed, and grasped – but then a summons echoed and bellowed, like a bird’s warble, and with silent gestures and wholesome grins, the child was off – curiosity emboldened and alive. He thought he recognized the structure of the fading nuances, the tumbling phrases and syllables ricocheting from an eerie, but not unkind creature lurking within the Basin’s shades. The Haruspex, deliverer of stories and myths (and how he loved tales and anecdotes; silently hoped there would be narratives of war and triumph, conquest and validation), reigned supreme in the dawn’s early rivulets and the lad’s clambering hooves followed the murky depths and intertwining sunlight towards the glistening lake. For a moment, he wanted to show off his latest discovery, brazenly approach the water’s edge and leap into its haven without a splash, without a sound, skimming over the brim and froth and foam, but in his haste, and notice that someone else had beat him to Zikar-Sin, he simply drove his impish features into the land, swift, strong, quick. His approach, seemingly always harried and a bit impudent, spilled over the snippets of a drove with candid, genuine delight, a ruffian smile, a Peter Pan grin, a Cheshire platitude and sentiment bounding over his lips. Erebos carefully noted the other individuals with a toss of his head, a light stretch and bend of his crest downward his mother insisted on teaching him, first to the instructor as a rapt, eager pupil, then to the opposing prince, Rikyn. Truthfully, he was much more ignorant of the latter than the former, with all of his gilded prowess and mother’s highlights, gave him a few tilts to his intrigued little skull before uttering warm welcomes and audacious splendor. “Good morning!” He stretched a little closer to the shoreline, drawn to the strange objects gathered amongst the embankment, pretty little flowers christened from the mountainside, and the other a much more fascinating appeal, a skull - horselike, without added appendages. No horn, no blade, no rapier, no dried, bleached feathers or tufts of hair, perfectly simple. He had a strong desire to poke and prod either artifact, but deciding that it was rude and far too impulsive, the boy settled back beside Rikyn – yet, the brazen tips of his soul still reached into fascination, beguilement, and trampled in fervent, avid tones. “What are those?”
EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend
Like death in its silence she approaches the call, eyes a still sea of green-runed gold. She knows none of those who call her, but she is as obedient as she is curious, and the power of the caller will not be unheeded. Snow shuffles in whispers of her passing as she nears the small huddled trio. She sees them all and sees nothing, no faces she can recognize or scents that remind her of home or friendship. But who is she to speak of friendship? Despite her age she is solitary, refined. Alone. Lonely. Her sole purpose is to serve her twin and ensure she ages well, strong and dignified, well-rounded. She is merely a stepping stone for her sister to place her hooves upon on the path of life. However, in moments when her twin is engaged with her mother, she has time to take for herself. Nothing generally comes from these precious stolen seconds, as she has nobody to meet or speak to. Her voice is reserved mostly for her twin, as she speaks to no other living being on a consistent basis.
Her lack of involvement in her community steals away any potential of knowing that who calls her. It is the speech of the other youths that suggests to her that he is their Wise One, their Haruspex. She lingers on the outskirts of the tiny group, surely a sore thumb with her apparent desire not to approach too far, but she hears all and that is what he wants of her yes? To listen. Tiara lowers in a slow, reverent display of respect towards the deeply coated unicorn before her. She is silent.
Intrigued by the skull and the brush set before him, clearly bedding for those who desired it, she inched closer until pale golden hooves brushed against it. It was sweet in her nares, delightful even, so strong and strange in the wasteland of cold and snow. But it was a beautiful morning, chilled and vibrant in color, and she hummed a soft hello to the stallion alone. "Pleasant Morn to you, sir," she chimed. Quietude was a normalcy for Asch, but she would not be rude in front of such an important member of their herd. The other foals are nigh invisible to the beautiful dame. Not because of arrogance, but because she has been conditioned to assume that she is not noticeable enough for their friendship, nor capable of the emotions required to instigate such a relationship. She is merely a servant in the presence of her family, and a princess in the eyes of the public. Somehow, she finds she doesn't fit either role too well.
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust! Plot with me here!
I unlike my Momma, have always been early to rise. I love to stand at the entrance to our cave and watch the lights play across the skies. Every now and then the lights have a pinkish tone to them, which makes me smile. I guess the lights decided to bless me with one of their rare colors across my back and down my hips. Even if it only outlines the white patch and tints a slight bit of my mane.
I turn as I hear Momma moving about. That means it's breakfast time. Eagerly and wordlessly I turn to her, my head shoving it's way to where the milk is. After all, I can't have the energy and strength to explore if I do not eat. She grunts in pain as my horn cuts into her belly, and I shove hard again as if to say 'shut up'. I do not care about the woman who gave my life. She is weak, and not like Daddy at all. It is Daddy who I both look like and want to be like.
That is when I heard the call. We children were being called to learn. With one last shove of my horn against Momma's belly I leave her to go see what is going on. I can here her grunt and laying back down. Weak.
When I arrive, other foals have already beaten me here. The oldest one seemed to be another girl, like me. I think I remember her being with the nice mare Arah at the herd meeting. I had met Arah the day I was born. Well, not really met but I at least knew her name and recognized her. The other two are boys. I do not know them, and I have to admit I am a bit shy to meet them. What if they were children of someone with a higher rank than Daddy? I know for sure than Momma, because she's a lowly soldier.... Even though I don't see how. She probably won't last as a soldier for long.
My glass horned tiara dips to the teacher, the one who had called us here before I settle into the soft nice things that the boys seem to of settled into. I hope it is not meant just for royalty... Because I am not such, yet.
I'm braver, because I fought a giant and won.
I'm stronger, because I had to be.
I'm happier, because I've learned what matters.
I stand taller, because I'm a survivor.
I'll carry you on my shoulders, never set you down.
Ferry you through the coldness, never let you down.
From crepuscule, drab gloom and insidious corridors she came. From abaft the depths of colossal, magnificent, and tremendous peaks arose the globe of immense light- from it's sanctuary and paradise, the sun comes forth distributing emanations; the faltering oscillate colours shimmered and trembled. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires and stars sang their hymns, psalms and canticles, odes as they continued illuminating the dark among the heavens, adorned in allure, exquisiteness, fascination, glamor and pulchritude. At the mouth of seclusion, isolation and secrecy stood the poise of candidness, nescience and demureness, a soul infused blessing. Akin to snow crystals that lay fated to perish, moribund and wither on the arctic ground, her budding ivory coat mirrors, echoes and epitomise the gems in the morning sky. Snowstorms for her pelt and the crash of the waves from a clear blue ocean match her azure eyes and pliable, docile madness is her linage. It is a voice that lures her out from her reverie, eager, ambitious and keen, but not irascible; it croons at her, an intangible melody. It does not gain or peak her curiosity but something natural- a raw and pure sense of the burden one carries for the greater good blossoms, an embellishment of her duties. One day she may understand.
Purpose, determination, resolution and direction dive her forwards, peaceful intentions, faint footsteps are hushed and muffled by the frost covered ground; movements are fluid and tranquil like rainwater falling across a roof. She is an apparition- a phantasm to the mortal eyes that seek her out. Sliding her cerulean gaze across the crystalline lake to where a peculiar group had gathered; fledglings, foals and yearlings huddled, convened and united the intention seemed to be innocent. Crystal hooves carry the precious bundle closer, a mask of indifference painting her delicate, exquisite and graceful features. Within a short amount of time the filly pauses having arrived with the group, her placid and amicable nature causes her to hover and linger at the rear of the gathering place- turquoise orbs observe the group's movements, hesitant to jump into the fray. They settle upon the eldest, the presumed caller, glittering like a sapphires in sunlight, ablaze with nervousness beneath the turbulent surface."It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr." Her hymn is reticent, reserved and cautious; her inexperience and weakness is clear, she is naive and youthful, grasping for a handhold on a rather sheer cliff.
She glides her stare over to the artefacts; to her right, a bouquet of alpine flowers, their colours vibrant and dynamic while their aroma is pure, fresh, crisp and sweet-smelling; and to her left is a horse's skull. The owner of the cranium must be long dead, it had no awful smell, no rotting flesh, no ounce of life left. It was chipped in some places but as it was dead surely that did not matter.
Most have gathered on the rushes, Ráeru joins them, waiting, watching, studying and silent.
"."
[Wittle Raeru has joined the party! Arwen to come next :D]
The call had reached out to all in The Basin at first Arwen was worried, suspicious as too who called the foals and why. Yet her interest had been peaked and so after watching the light show over The Basin, Arwen turned and began to wonder over to where the voice hailed from, wishing wholeheartedly that Asch was here to protect her. Her hooves crunched over the snow, grumpily, yet the air of excitement that surrounded the golden filly could not be mistaken. It was always fun to catch a break from her mother's worrying eyes and harsher rules. No, this filly much preferred the company of the dead; their stories were full of wonder, adventure and freedom. That was something Arwen craved, the freedom to escape her mother's clutches and explore the world with her twin. After all the sickness she had been born with was almost completely gone and within a few months Arwen expected to be completely healthy. Except for what when on in her mind however...the youngling knew that she was completely messed up and could not be saved.
Wondering over the frozen ground soon she slid her golden gaze over the crystalline lake to where the group had gathered. Yet her eyes sought out only one being, the only one she would sit next to and listen to stories with was her twin. There she was, already gathered and making friends with the other foals of The Basin. The golden girl paused, a slight twinge of jealously rolled through her veins. Arwen knew it was stupid, Asch was her sister, her partner in crime...hers. Just as she belonged to Asch.
Huffing slightly and tossing her growing mane over her shoulder the filly approached the group and stopped beside her twin. "Aschy, I've been looking for you." Arwen's eyes travel over the group that her sister had joined before her. Her tone suggest nothing but adoration for her beautiful sister, but in her golden eyes the flame of jealously still dance. "Making friends?" The question was poised with pure innocence; this time the golden girl was actually curious if her tough sister had let down her guard long enough to be friendly with the others that had gathered.
Turing to the one who had called them to unite under the frozen morning sky Arwen rose her voice, her mother had taught her how to be the picture of perfection and elegance. "Mr Haruspex, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." Dripping her crowned head in respect it was a moment before the young girl looked back up with a smile. "I hope the gods are treating you well?" Her slightly weary eyes traveled to the rushes that seemed rather welcoming and then the flowers that were giving off the fresh scent, next she studied the skull of the equine. Her thoughts were not quite right concerning the cradle that once was the feac of a being, she was curious as too if she could channel the dead spirit of the equine. Ask him or her what happened to cause their death.
Really, though, it was worth it to leave all of this former passions of natural philosophy in the backburner, just so the dappled stallion could stand there and gaze upon the tiny splendors that were the Basin children. He had been so removed, so isolated from the rest of his clan, enthralled as he was in his researches; it was only now that he had witnessed the full extent of the fruits of his fellows-- and my, what a wonderful yield of new blood it was! Sin could discern most of their lineages just by sight, by observing the stamp of genetics left by their forbearers; others were a little more complex for him to figure out just by sight, though he worried not, convinced he would learn their parentages in due time.
Sin was very impressed indeed with the etiquette of some of the older, more radiant fillies who approached; he bowed his head as he would any lady, returning their warm greetings with some of his own. “Good morning to you as well, my dear,” he simpered, eyes traveling from filly to filly as they approached, “It certainly is a pleasure.” He chuckled somewhat at the rather mature behavior of a pale-coated child, the ghost of the image of a certain Arah he had come to know from past herd meetings. “Yes indeed the Lord of Time has treated me well—as he has treated us all. May he maintain his good temper, hmm?” His attention was then drawn to the young prince Erebos, and he gave him an eerie wink to accompany his smirk. "All in due time, my prince. I'll explain shortly."
He took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, exhaling it passed teeth bared wide in an excited, energized grin, addressing the group as a whole “Good, morning, my little ones!” he trilled, seeming to bounce on his hooftips as he surveyed the children before him—noticing, as he did, that some had chosen to keep away from the main body. “Don’t be shy, now,” he called out to the outliers, beckoning them closer, “we’re all kinfolk, yes? Brothers and sisters of the Basin Herdlands—it’s a bond we must nurture if we’re going to keep our inner strength.” He paused for a moment, giving them time to adjust as necessary. Then he continued in the same voice of earnest cheer, “Now then, you may know me from around the herd or from word of your parents—though allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Zikar-Sin.” His eyes seemed to alight in the morning twilight, almost glowing in their manic, poorly-suppressed merriment, “I’d like to know your names as well, if we’ve never spoken before.”
He paused once more, unblinking in his merry gaze, his attention drawn to every little face who dared to speak up; then, something warm and tingly rising upwards into his bosom, Sin began, finally, the formal education of these young souls…starting with a question. “Tell me, young ones—what does this--“ he indicated the bouquet of northern flowers, “—and this--“ he indicated the skull, “—have in common?”
What if this whole crusade's a charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
To each new arrival after I have grown bored with looking on the skull I lift my golden gaze with hope that is Aithniel, though she seems to be late and every face that is not her drives my smile into a more serious line of worry.
I should have gone to get her before I came; it’s possible she thinks she may not be invited. Momma has made it clear enough that she doesn’t want my sister around us very often, and surely that rubs off on a person’s confidence to approach large gatherings over time. At least Erebos is here, laying next to me on one of the comfy pallets while I anxiously watch the other near me with silent anticipation that Aithniel is just late and will come in time to hear the story.
I can’t help but notice that most of the children in the Basin at this time are girls; but for the other dark coated prince and I, the other arrivals are all female, and some of them are pretty cute. A very young filly of pure white with crystalline details is sweet and demure in her approach and instantly earns a long, good look from me and a gentle smile of reassurance. I recognize the twins from momma and I’s wandering around the land, the daughters of Arah, but I do not know their names and am excited to catch a whisper of the darker girl’s name – Aschy.
Surely that is not her name, just as Aithniel is not Thistle Sister, but I suppose I can’t be the only one that calls their siblings foolish things.
As they all filter in and settle down on the little mats provided to us, I flick my eyes from one to the other and back out into the valley, searching for the ivory and gold frame of my sister but finding it absent. None of the older kids are here, either, which is unfortunate; momma has told me of Jorogumo and some of the other yearlings around the Basin and I am curious to meet them and learn what they know. All I can gather of this land is that it holds a vast mix of sentiments and not a creature without a horn but for the wildlife and companions that had bonded to them. Even Aithniel has a horn, which makes mother’s insane speeches on how to view her seem stupid to me. If all it takes to be “perfect” is to wear a crown, then Aith is better than perfect, because she can touch the clouds.
All the while Zikar babbles inanely and with much bravado, occasionally drawing a quirky smile to my lips in good humor of his kindness. Momma may be a bit crazy and hard to deal with, but when it comes to naming others for what they are, she is never wrong; he is a good friend to have, especially with lives that could be as dark as the ones here.
As the Haruspex rolls into his full bouncing and the meeting begins, my brows furrow and ears fall, lips tugged into a small frown that my sister has not come in time to hear introductions and surely having lost the mat next to me to the fillies that were urged forward onto them. I didn’t like making Aithniel be alone and the thought that I might have to if she came in late made me feel frustrated and irritable, and so I shuffled it out of my thoughts and took in the words of the mirror keeper.
He wanted our names if he didn’t have them before, a single ear falling on my head as I try to recall a time in which I had been named in front of him. Nothing comes immediately and I’m sure that I’ll have better chances talking to the other children if I go ahead and offer it to him, regardless. "I’m Rikyn," I answer swiftly, looking around me to the others and then back towards the Haruspex.
Finally, the story seems like it is going to begin, opening with a question that leaves me leaning forward in my place to ogle the items on the shoreline. They weren’t the same tone or shape, they didn’t smell similar from this distance at all, and aside from both being unable to speak I can’t think of much else to pair the two together – until an idea rises to me. "They’re both dead," I hazard, "plucked flowers wilt and headless horses don’t breath."
For the blood on which we dine
Justified in the name of the Holy and the Divine.
Aithniel showed up late, not because she wasn't hanging around, but because she really did not want to interact with the creepy butthead, Zikar ever again. She stood in the trees, ears flat against the back of her neck as she watched Erebos, Rikyn and all the others without feathers go to speak with him, and she ground her teeth together. Despite herself, she wanted desperately to play with all the other foals, but she couldn't bring herself to just walk up to him with them as if she belonged here.
Especially when he made it very clear that she did not belong.
Well, what was the best way to show him that he was wrong? Be brave, right? That was what Rikyn said. And even Erebos said that one day she might be able to fly. When she could fly, she could fly circles around Zikar and he could do nothing about it! Hah! So, what did she really have to be afraid of? Not that she was afraid, of course. She wasn't afraid at all. Not at all. Not afraid. She was just mad, yes.
With a small snort and the resolution to be a thorn in his side (immature, yes), she marched into the clearing and stood right next to her handsome brother, Rikyn. She affectionately moved to push her muzzle into his neck as a kind greeting, defiant and bold silver eyes not once leaving the creapy, milky ones of Zikar. Take that! Zikar knew her name, so she was not going to give it again. Kindly, she smiled at Erebos, her way of saying 'hello'.
After staring at the flowers and the skull and hearing Rikyn's very wise response, she considered the two thoughtfully. Honestly, what did it matter what they had in common? Why did that matter? They weren't common at all. "Nothing," she replied, knowing that she was being a brat but not really wanting to adjust her behavior.
07-21-2014, 01:09 PM (This post was last modified: 07-22-2014, 05:59 PM by Erebos.)
The two princes wouldn’t be the only creatures basking in the Haruspex’s fountain of knowledge, and Erebos watched, witnessed, and paid close attention to the followers of Zikar’s call, for most he didn’t know. The first trickling in after him was an older, golden filly, with interesting green eyes, lingering on the outskirts, and ever the intrigued, the little lad wished to know why. Undaunted and unafraid to take part in meeting others and making new acquaintances, he could only hazard guesses and surmise various points of her personality, but he frowned a bit at her apprehensiveness (surely they weren’t going to bite – they were brethren after all!). Maybe she was uncomfortable in a large group setting, as this lesson was likely to be, irritated, vexed, or anxious about teetering throngs and riotous dins. Perhaps she didn’t like them, though reaching for a reason beyond the notion befuddled the imp and he reflected no further. He regarded her with a bountiful, curious nature and his solid, corporeal form, a voice emblazoned from his riotous convictions. “Hello!” Another quickly flickered in thereafter, and his eyes adjusted to the differing color scheme on her pelt, a vibrant pink rolling and tumbling with sienna, and she even seemed to only extend her greetings to the master of stories. For a few snippets, the boy thought they smelled bad or produced some foul display; no one seemed inclined to gesture them with greetings or introductions, and he felt a bit foolish for being the only one inclined to do so. Regardless, he continued in his stalwart act, brushing his blue gaze over to the rose hued one. “Hi!” No sooner had he done so than more trickled in (cloaked in ivory, one a sister of the gilded) and he was silenced due to their arrivals. From there on he just became another observer, another body, in the blended foray of mixed colorations and heritage, all marked by the distinctive sword on their brows and the indomitable pride in their hearts. He even felt a bit sheepish at his lack of manners when first roaming in, because somewhere he knew Huyana would be sullen at his impudence (but he’d been so excited…), and so he cast his eyes elsewhere, listening to the Haruspex’s speech and answering his first query after igniting his boldness again, somewhere deep in the reaches of his essence. “I’m Erebos!”
The second question, however, would take more consideration than a simple calling. What did the flower and the skull have in common? He rather liked Rikyn’s response, as both were most certainly dead, laying amongst the earth with nowhere else to roam, nothing else to do but become part of time’s ancient role, eventually simmer deep into the soil and reemerge as something else. But he knew he should provide some other venue of thought, and so his stare roamed back upon the objects, concentrating immensely on their capabilities and faculties. His ears flicked back and forth at Aithniel’s arrival, the gruff rebuttal, nothing, but surely there must have been something calculating, swarming, brimming and brewing in the Haruspex’s mind, otherwise he wouldn’t have called them. The boy drew his lips into a thin line and narrowed his eyes, then reveled in the notion of power. Perhaps neither had had any; inept, frail, incapable of fighting off whatever had stolen their lives, absconded and collapsed from the brutality of others. The flower, though beautiful and well-kept in their sage mountains, hadn’t poised any defenses, carried no rapier, no poison, no cutlass to harpoon its enemies, and the previous owner of the bleached cranium could have been ignorant, oblivious, unwise about the follies of the world. Both had been laid to rest, suffering in quiet demise, because they couldn’t protect themselves. Satisfied with his solution, the scion emerged from his cocoon of thought and mustered the remedy towards the monocled stallion, hoping he’d constructed and composed something worthwhile. “They were weak?”
EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend
In the quiet prior to the words that spill from Zikar-Sin's maw, Asch lifts gilded greens to survey those around her. It is not that she fears them in any way, but her entire world revolved round that well-being and success of her sister. She merely didn't know how to interact with those close to her in age group. Certainly she was one of the younger ones, at least. The Princes of the Basin are unknown to her, in fact they are all nameless faces to the young maiden, but when golden eyes settle upon her she manages a cordial smile. Surely she should attempt to make friends? No matter how composed and aristocratically she holds her body she is still but a child, and the whims of youth demand the attempt at friendship. The other colt is far less reserved in his greetings of the other foals, and she glances at him with wide startled eyes at his exuberance. A smile curls her lips and softens her gaze, touched to be noticed at all. It is always Arwen who garners such attention, with her beautiful simplistically crafted looks, Asch the one most often overlooked with her quiet demeanor and frank attitude.
"Hello," she responded kindly, smile warm but a tad reserved, as if anticipating him to turn and forget about her in a moment. Her own attention is diverted by the arrival of her sister, who bounds into her like a boulder smashing into her side even without their hides ever touching. "Here I am," she murmured uselessly, not sure what to say in return. "Attempting to, though you know it is often others who do not wish to be my friend instead of the opposite," she laughed softly, even though the delight did not reach her eyes. Solitude was a shield worn strapped across her spine to ward off errant daggers, and while it shrouded her in loneliness it enabled her to be a more effective guardian of her twin sister.
She smiles at Zikar-Sin as he responds to her, and though she'd never met him prior to that moment, she finds him a rather...eccentric being. The filly who approaches seems not to like him, if the cold bratty expression on her features is anything to go by. Even so, Asch doesn't judge her for how she receives the Haruspex, why should she? She hated her own mother after all, she was certainly in no place to condemn others for their personal opinions of others. In time, introductions are in order, and Rikyn and Erebos are soon announced in voices accordingly soft and effervescent in turn. The youth with the wings does not share her name. Clearing her throat softly she prepared for the attention speaking to the group would bring, and shut away whatever nervousness lingered behind locked doors so none would detect such an affliction. "My name is Asch." Often Arwen introduced her, for Asch's name always followed Arwen's personal salutation and introduction. It was odd to do it for herself.
Ash. Ash like dead things, like fire, like destruction. Ash like smeared cheeks and marked bodies. Ash like acridness, like sour, like foul. Ash like unwanted.
Internally snorting she kicked such useless demeaning thoughts away. Why the fuck was she being such a self-degrading whimp? Focusing on the question the Haruspex posed to the lot of them, she stared inquisitively at the two objects as if they would reveal to her their secrets. "Life? The skull was once living, and the flowers are surely still alive despite their impending death. The different stages of life?" she ventured. The pale child with the sharp tongue made her chuckle to herself, only quieting when she realized she likely should not be laughing. Still, she was amusing in her crassness, and Asch found that intriguing.
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Ahhh I didn't realize it was my turn everyone can hit me with a ham!
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust! Plot with me here!
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