"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.
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
She calmly walks around, drops of rain pelting her and the green canopy of tree leaves above her. Each cold drop of rain soaking her coat further, turning her into a darker shade of flax. Her light tresses are swaying back and forth, throwing cool liquid drops around behind her. Her head is hung low and ears relaxed backwards, allowing no rain to enter them. Caramel eyes stare ahead as she wonders what she will run into next. Will there be magnificent builders crafting away at their silver, or a lowly pond with mysteries far and wide? The adventures that lay ahead of the babe are grand, but who will be next to her for this adventure? What about future adventures?
The path the mare has taken today opens into a small clearing. However, the clearing is not clear. The trees filter out into an open space with a structure tall and grand. It's beauty is unmatched and seemingly untouched by time upon first glance. Dröm halts and just peers at the building, wondering why it is there. Who has built such an eye-catching building? There are large columns holding a glass and metal roof high above the ground. Thick curtains hug the columns and drape effortlessly before hugging the next column. The initial awe begins to wear off as she prances towards the building, a new excitement bubbling in her young mind. She hops onto the base of the building, skipping the steps as she does so. Why use steps? It takes too long for the girl that is eager to explore her findings as soon as possible.
Her ears erect themselves as soon as the stained glass roof shields her from the unrelenting rain. Distant strikes of lightning and roars of thunder can not even distract the determined girl. She halts near a column, poking her through thick curtains to reveal a running brook. She giggles with excitement. Her head drips with water as she brings it back in. The liquid running down her slim chest and forelegs. Giggling once more, she begins to study the columns, the roof, the curtains.. everything. She is too interested in this building to notice anything else. If she were approached right now, she may not hear the stranger coming whatsoever. She knows the stranger that will come will not be mean. No one is truly mean, right? Only troubled from their past.
He came bursting in without warning, a dazzling display of rain-soaked silver and molten gold that parted the frondescent curtains with a flurry of droplets, scattered leaves and ivory silk. The pale tassels looked slightly disheveled and out of place, but then again it wasn't really a weather that accommodated pristine appearances. The knight seemed slightly out of breath as he skidded to a halt, slipping slightly as slick hooves struggled to gain traction on the smooth floor, and his attention was decidedly elsewhere. He certainly appeared startled enough to find himself with company; freezing for a second he made a quick dip of the head in rushed greeting, then spun around to peer out into the rain with a frown creasing the eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't know someone was here" he whiffed after a moment of complete tension, after which he seemed to calm down slightly. "I managed to agitate a wolverine over its meal, it's been chasing after me for a good while... Seems it finally gave up though." Sighing in honest relief he turned to the other, grave expression softening into a kind smile as he discovered that he had rushed in on a young mare, of all things. It was a rather pleasant surprise indeed; she was a lovely sight to behold, light and dainty with youth written all over the finely chiseled features.
"Pardon my sudden appearance, miss" he initiated politely, barely sparing his dragon a sideways glance when she slipped in through the curtains in his wake; there was a gleam to her cold eyes and a slight billow of smoke rising from the nostrils that suggested she had 'dealt' with the persistent beast for him. "I hope I didn't startle you too much... My name is Lace, Silverthorn some call me, and this is Fajira, my soul-bound and companion."
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
The loneliness fades rather quickly as a stallion of silver and slate rushes inside of this pavilion type building, joining the flaxen babe. He gives her a simple bow of his cranium as he frantically spins around, a clear frown crossing his features. The girl cannot help but wonder if he upset because he is stuck with her. Does he prefer solitude? Dröm has met many who prefer to be with themselves and no one else. There is a tension in the air, but it is only somewhat explainable. To her, the stallion seems worried; on edge. Has he lost something valuable? When Dröm had lost her most valuable items, she had acted like that. She would scan the area for hours, but fate did not allow her to find her items. She assumes someone had stolen them. Of course, doesn't everyone have something that has been stolen or that they have stolen? It is not a rare occurrence to see stolen items being proudly worn. It must make horses feel accomplished. They have gotten away with theft, they must be master sleuths kind of deal.
He apologizes, saying that he was not aware that this building was inhabited at this moment in time. One of her ears twists backwards as she offers him a kind smile, her caramel eyes glued on him. "I rather enjoy company, so it is no bother." Her tones are soft, barely audible over the loud banging of raindrops against glass and metal. He speaks of a weasel-like animal-- a wolverine. The thought of the small animal sends slight chills down her back. They are small, but mighty, with the ability to kill prey many times larger than themselves. "Did it hurt you?" She looks over his legs and his body, unable to see any serious injuries. There are many scars along his body, the most notable being over a tree marking on his shoulder. There is also gold dusting on his back, and she wonders if he was born with all these markings. Why wasn't Dröm born with more markings? Her parents had plenty of markings.
A dragon flies in, but she is not worried. This stallion isn't worried so why should the flax girl be? He introduces himself as Lace, or Silverthorn, which is appropriate because he has a lot silver on his body. His companion, or soul-bonded, is Fajira. She is stark and divine. There are puffs of smoke billowing from her narrow nostrils, and she wonders what the scaled dragon has been doing. Did she take care of the wolverine? "It's a pleasure to meet you both." She smiles confidently, her gaze returning back to Lace's. "I am Dröm, a mare of the Hidden Falls."
"blah blah blah."
ooc: Would you like to be tagged?
The smile widens when she introduce herself, and once again he bows courteously - like the true knight he was raised to be. "A true pleasure, Dröm - I'm happy to tell that I've been in the Hidden Falls once, and it is truly a remarkable place. Suitable as dwelling for one of your beauty, do doubt."
There was a twinkle of laughter in the depths of his eyes as he said it, a soft bite of self-irony that made the phrases slightly less pompous than they might sound. As he straighten up to stand tall and regal before her once more he shake the head reassuringly; her worry is appreciated, but unnecessary.
"Not at all, miss. I am a fast runner, and with Fajira to watch my back I have little to fear. And even if it had managed to get to me, I heal quickly." He shrug and leave it at that, leaving slender muscles to ripple and swell beneath the smooth silver of his skin. The branches of the black tree that had once been branded into the left shoulder almost seem to sway in an invisible breeze; the gold, however, seem somewhat dull and faded in the gray light of the day.
"Still, it's nice to finally have some rain, don't you think?" he chatter on conversationally, stepping aside somewhat so that he won't splatter her in water as he shake it out of his coat. "I've been staying at the Throat lately; I have to say that the heat does get tedious after a while. I look forward to Orangemoon and some cooler weather."
The dragon chattered in agreement, having made a perch on the thin balustrade that separated the rotunda from the rest of the glen. Balancing deftly with the tail hanging in over the rail she looks much like a scaly cat, the thin membraned wings tucked tightly against the sides. Fajira never much liked the rain; being a creature of light and fire she preferred the blazing heat at the peak of summer or the dazzling white of the world as it became covered in snow. Even though the rain cleaned her scaled and made them shimmer and gleam like opals in the soft light, she would be happier when the skies cleared.
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
"Suitable dwelling for one of your beauty," The thunder grows louder, and the flaxen girl must listen well if she expects to hear anything. What does hear, makes her smile beam wider. She blushes slightly (if a horse can even blush), but the redness of her cheeks is hard to see while her coat is dark with water. She enjoys compliments and perhaps this compliment is... sweeter, as it comes from a handsome stallion. It does not matter if he had been cynically sarcastic, for the string of words uttered makes her feel happy. The tone of his words do not matter, the words do. "Thank you for your kind words, but I am no more beautiful than the next mare," She pauses for a moment, a glint of seduction sparking in her eyes for a moment before dissappearing back into happiness as she continues, "Well, Mr. Silverthorn," Mr. Silverthorn-- She thought is was cute. "Perhaps you could see my home once more. I would not mind showing you around. Shall we call it a date?" Perhaps she does not mean date, date. Of course, there is always the chance that she wants to go on a date with Mr. Silverthorn.
She finds herself yearning to learn more about him, but he has not divulged much information about himself. He has told her their names and that is all, but those could easily be false. It would too easy for Mr. Silverthorn to say he is one name, but he is really another. Dröm could easily tell him her name is Daisy or something dainty like that, and why wouldn't he believe her? He would have no reason not too. Has she fallen for a lie? The stallion becomes slightly cocky, but it does not faze golden girl. She is too used to that. It would take much more to offend her. "I heal quickly." Her curiosity is piqued once he says that. There is a pause of silence before she speaks. The thunder and lightning rattling the ground, making everything quiver. The Earth itself seems to dislike this violent beating the sky is giving. "More than the average horse?" Her questions have gotten her into trouble before, but she does not worry about that today. It seems like this stallion has patience for her, but that could easily change in a moment, after-all, she may not be close enough to him for him to tell her such things.
"I do rather enjoy the rain at times, but perhaps too much can be a bad thing." A moment of wisdom, perhaps? "The Throat..." The name rolls off her tongue in a feminine way. Her tones soft, yet thick-- like melted caramel: sweetly addictive. "The name sounds vulgar, but I am intrigued. I've never traveled to the Throat." She was rather new. She has not been able to travel far from her home, except when she went to the Threshold. This is the very first time she's actually gone exploring. Except, perhaps, when she had gotten lost and hiked a mountain just to find a large empty field. There, she had tried to warm a cold stallion. There had also been a glass mare, but that part was too confusing so she has chosen to forget about the eerie glass horse.
"blah blah blah."
ooc: :x it's kind of everywhere, so sorry! <3
Her modesty is becoming, yet Lace can't help but wonder in his mind whether it was truly honest. Surely every mare compared herself to the rest, struggling to measure up to, and overcome, her peers the same way a stallion might attempt to increase his own bulk, practice sparring and otherwise compete for honor and glory? Perhaps it was cynical of him to think it, but in his experience there wasn't a horse out there that wasn't well aware of their own boons and cons. The only thing that seemed to differ was the amount of attention they tried to draw to themselves - in other words, their own levels of confidence in themselves.
He had been much more flamboyant when he was younger. Never hesitating to prance and show off before others, he had been so sure of his own value. Of course he had been quite aware that he wasn't the best at everything, but with the confidence of youth he had been sure that time could only make him better, smarter, stronger and more handsome. Time, being the cruel lord it was, had however proven him quite differently. Instead of moving to the top of his herd he had been sent running for his life as catastrophe descended upon them, and once away from the relatively peaceful birth-land (in so much as there weren't any living gods, foreign races or magic to unleash upon one another, only hoof and tooth) he had quickly learned how little he actually knew. And after Isilme... well. Lets just say that he was glad to be alive and that other things mattered very little in comparison.
Perhaps this dispirited view of the world was why the gray strider disregarded the coy invitation with nothing more than a distant smile, clearly not about to take the girl up on her invitation - at least not in the meaning she might have hoped. "Please, Lace is enough" he insisted as he stepped back, the sleek coat now less waterlogged and with the tassels shimmering clean and airy down the arched neck. "I would love to visit the Falls again someday. Perhaps I will see you there if I do - a friendly face is always welcome." He settle in quite comfortably after that, feeling no particular need to go out into the rain again now that the weather is taking a turn for the worse. When he stopped moving around the dragon move over to settle on his back instead, her travel through the air a quick and silent affair that ends in a content purring sound as she curl up on his rump, duck the head down beneath a wing and go settle in to rest.
Lace, meanwhile, gave the young lady a long look as she inquire about his statement about rapid healing. It was a strange look, thoughtful and considering and oddly closed, as though he wasn't sure whether to answer or not; "Oh, I don't know about that" he eventually murmur vaguely with a nonchalant flick of the tail. "It depends on your definition of average, and seeing as I'm not..." He trail off, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he give her a quick wink that could mean anything and nothing. "As for the Throat... Dragon's Throat is the full name, it is a land south of here located in the desert. Very arid and dry, the summer days are hot and the nights cold, the sky is vast and the stars so close it seems you can reach out and pluck them down. I suppose it's aptly named - not that I know anything about the conditions of any dragon's throats. Mine says hers is quite well moisturized."
A slight, amused smile flicker across his maw at this, the dark lips expressive as his mood comes and goes. As he speak the golden gaze dance around the structure, every now and then returning to rest upon the flaxen dame. "How come you're so far away from home?" he eventually asked, tone casually curious as though the topic still was on the weather.
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
It feels like rejection. He steps away from her, and as an on the spot reaction, she stretches her muzzle out to him a little, but then realizing that he must like his own personal space, she retracts her muzzle, accepting defeat. "Sorry," she whispered quietly. Her words nearly drowned out by the noise surrounding them. She would not be at all surprised if he could not here her state her apology. As time went on, she became slightly more skittish, perhaps she was afraid she would offend him, or he would lash out. It seemed to only be a matter of time before she messed this conversation up and it would be too unbearable to stay here and she would have to walk him in the lightning and thunder.
"You're not... Average?" She asks with a new interest. Not average... What is he than, a god? A vampire? Who is she really talking to? Worry sets itself deep in her gut as she continues thinking of the thinks Mr. Silverthorn (yes, she will still call him that in her mind) could be. He continues on quickly, and her curiosity grows and the worry begins leaving, though she still wonders what he is. "Dragon's Throat. You live in... a desert?" She asked, cocking her head slightly, allowing her forelock to drape off to the side, revealing the rest of her beautiful blaze.
Her eyes shift towards the drapes, where there is a glimpse of their setting. The rain still pours heavily, lightning and thunder still at large. And every now and then a few raindrops make their way into the building, adding more water onto her rapidly drying body. Her darker coat easily lightening back up to it's normal color the more she dries. Her tresses are pristine, clean even. Her femininity has returned, and along with it her looks. Her drenched coat was unappealing to everyone, but possibly Mr. Silverthorn. What will he think of her now?
So many questions, yet she couldn't reply to his single one? Lace might have missed her feeble attempt to reach out or the apology that was drowned out by the thunder and the rain, but he did not fail to notice how she, either by accident or quite on purpose failed to respond to his query regarding her whereabouts. Suppressing a desire to frown the stallion gazed at her with an impassive face, simply smiling mysteriously when she wondered at his statement; no, he could have told her. He was not ordinary, nor was he 'average'. How many other horses could tumble down a mountainside only to rise and walk away after only a short while of rest? How many horses carried fire in their blood, had their souls tied to the long-lived heart of a dragon, how many had ruled alongside a dragon and tasted the sweetness of its dark, soft rain-soaked skin? He was a king with a broken crown, he could have said and straightened up tall and regal, and she would have been safe should she have come to live under his rule...
But he stayed quiet.
Instead he clopped over to one of the support pillars and leaned a tree-marked shoulder against it, opting to peer out into the storm rather than focus too much on the girl. Her physique was exquisite indeed, but Lace felt too old to play with mares of her age. It was bad enough that Cirrus's face haunted his dreams, worse still to think what Mirage would say if she came back to find that her daughter had fallen prey to an old geezer... Best not tempt himself, lest he do something unforgivable.
"I stay there for the time being, yes" he responded absently when the mare in question - Dröm, she had said, he should try to remember it - inquired further about the Throat. "Though I wouldn't go so far as to say I live there. The Sultana is an old acquaintance of mine, and my friends daughter has chosen to take up residence there... Home is where the heart is they say, and mine is gone with the wind."
His smile looked quite bitter as he said it, this time very much lacking any humor to reduce its bite. There was a tiredness too in the gaze that didn't belong to such a youthful looking horse, lines around the eyes drawn by experience and pain. Yet when he threw a sideways glance at the dainty chestnut it vanished, replaced instead by a polite mask that offered very little insight into his soul or mind.
"Do you have family in these parts, Dröm?" he tried again, lazily curious as to whether she would choose to ignore his questions again.
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
"I've never seen a desert." She blurts out, remembering her banished sister: the DesertRose. Her sister had been sent to a desert to die, but the mare flourished, cultivated a herd-- gained power. She was well known in her parts. Hot-headed, violent, the Rose of the Desert. Ha! They thought she would die. Do many horses flourish in the desert? Does Lace thrive there? "but my sister lives in one!" She says with a pleasant tone. However, it seems Mr. Silverthorn is very uninterested. His bitter smile stole her breath before it faded to a facade of happiness.
"Don't pretend to be happy." it's unattractive. One of her short, stubby, ears flips backwards as she listens to everything. "If your heart is gone with the wind, don't pretend to love, or whatever it is you do." She says softly, now secretly hoping she could take the words back, erase them. Maybe the wind would carry them far from Lace's ears? What she had said, in her opinion, seemed rude now that she thought of it. His smile had changed when she looked at her. This intrigued the mare. Why the necessity to make the girl believe he is a knight? Some shining hero that will come valiantly save her.
He suddenly asks if she has family here. Though surprised by the sudden change of topic, she answers him. "No. I do not have family here. They are at my old home, towards the east." She smiled softly, a smile that was clearly empty-- hollow. She was thinking about Lace's heart. What goes on in his mind? She waits to hear his answer, her eyes tracing the gold dusted line of his back, to his smoky tail. Then her eyes trace his legs and set themselves back on his eyes, trying to see something, but her search turns up with nothing.
Ha, she did answer. And yet, for all that Lace wanted to smile and inquire more about her home and that desert-dwelling sister he found himself too flabbergasted to more than stare at the girl, stunned and speechless in face of her blundered reproach. Afraid he was looking rather stupid the stallion made an effort to close the wide-open mouth, erect the ears slightly more atop the head and blink - so as not to stare quite so dumbstruck at the lady.
"Then... what would you have me do, hang lip and wallow in grief and despair?" he asked her, frown deepening the creases around the eyes; not because he took offense with her words, but rather because he tried to wrap his mind around what she could possibly mean. "I don't think I've ever pretended to be in love, and if I ever let on something else I would have to apologize... But how can it be offensive to maintain a civilized attitude when talking to a complete stranger?"
He looked at her from under the silken forelock, the gaze mild and questioning yet also slightly pointed - why, on all of earth, should he open his heart and spill his innermost thoughts and secrets to her? They had conversed for a grand total of some fifteen minutes and while it had been pleasant conversation indeed, it was hardly a basis for mutual trust. Or perhaps the girl was so ill off that any conversation in which she wasn't berated, threatened or injured counted as soulful and deep, such that she was prepared to open her heart in trust and, even more, love?
He suppressed a desire to snort at the mere idea of it, suddenly finding that the situation was growing more complicated than he had bargained for. He wasn't sure that the love of this mare was something he desired - she was pretty, oh yes, and had a sweet temperament with a surprising depth of intelligence. But... she was not a night-touched dragon cloaked in equine guise, nor did she possess sky blue eyes that made his soul quiver and swell whenever they fell upon him. It was unfortunate really, he could have been so much better off; his heart just seemed destined to lock onto mares he would never be able to have.
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
Mr. Silverthorn seems more interested in her sister than her. It was always like that, Dröm was used to it. She had always been ignored. A middle sibling, a forgotten flax girl who was nothing special. Nothing, but average. Has that changed? She is not very different from other horses, a stereotypical nice girl with a brain. Wasn't everyone like that? She wondered how to be different, but Mr. Silverthorn's problems outdid hers. She listened to his words. His voice carrying her in a gentle lull, despite his words not being the most pleasant. He asked what she expected him to do. His question disappointed her slightly, however she did not let him know that. Her expression stayed pleasant as she began to answer. "No, I do not expect you to do that. How can you ..." Her words had grown quiet until her voice was not audible. His voice immediately bursts into the air. "It's not offensive. I think it's strange, eerie. Why call a stranger beautiful and make her think you are happy, if you truly aren't? You don't need to tell me your answer. It is not something I wish to know." She paused for a moment, attempting to figure out what to say how to say it. Once she believes she knows what to say, she breathes in and begins, her voice unfaltering as each word spills from her lips in a confident way, but not cocky. "A liar once said, 'At a certain point in our rather short lives, we loose control of what happens to us or what we do to others and fate takes over.' But that is untruthful, Lace. Fate is cannot make anyone unhappy. That is something horses do to themselves. Fate is merely a mirage." She spoke, the possibility of making him either extremely upset or indifferent grows. "However, if you wish to no longer be bitter, go fix the problem instead of putting a facade of dull happiness on." Would her words make sense to the stallion that was clearly older than her. They say that with age comes wisdom, and to a degree, the golden babe believes that. Yet, she's also met some really stupid elders. "Basically saying, go fix the damn problem yourself and stop sitting on your ass waiting for something to happen." A condensed summary of her drawn out explanation might make more sense to Mr. Silverthorn than her actual explanation. And yes, Dröm did just curse. She is both surprised such words came out of her mouth, but she feels he needed it instead of her dainty insults like meanie.
"Perhaps I should go, Lace." She reached her muzzle towards his shoulder. A goodbye gesture? Perhaps the option of leaving was thrown out there so she could let the stallion just think. It seemed that was what he needed, to be honest. Dröm waited to see if he would agree that she should leave. Despite the ravenous thunder and cracks of lightning, if it pleased Lace for her to leave, she would. Dröm would not fight back, her small form would not even last a light kick.
Lace the Silverthorn It is our actions that define who we are
She answered back and with every word the posture of the stallion tautened, ears growing rigid atop the poll while the plumed tail froze in the midst of an outraged snap. She told him not to answer her rhetorics but how, how did she expect him to remain silent when the words were so insanely unfair? Withdrawing from her attempted touch the gray rogue moved to block her path, every movement expressing immense self restraint as he turned to face her; his eyes were harder now, and a tough of frost had sneaked into the previously so friendly vocals.
"No, child, you will stay. And you will listen as I answer your questions because I cannot allow you to leave thinking that you have made some kind of point." He gazed at her sternly and seemed to grow where he stood, an aura of authority and power emanating from the arch of the silver neck, the squared legs and the strong, unyielding eyes. "First of all I call you beautiful because you are, and I find no purpose in denying that. It is plain for every creature with eyes to see, and if you deny it then it will be nothing but false modesty or a low self-esteem - whichever you prefer. If you cannot take a compliment for what it is then I suggest you take up on your own advice and fix your own problems, whatever they may be."
"You would also do good in learning that pretty words are just that; words. Any idea you might have gotten from my compliments are entirely on you, because I have not given you any reason what so ever to think my feelings regarding you might be more than polite tolerance - a feeling that, I assure, is stretching thin. do not be so presumptuous, girl, because as you so eloquently put it; my heart is elsewhere. "
He had to raise his voice to make himself heard over the storm, and found that it wasn't just the roar of wind and rain that agitated his tone. Her words had stung, perhaps more because of his own inability to do just as she suggested. But really, how was he supposed to make the mare he loved stay by his side and be faithful to him if she didn't wish to do that? How did she suggest he let go of emotions that were causing him pain when everything around reminded him of her, when the thoughts of another mare made guilt and self-loathing rise like bile in the throat? It was true that Lace had a habit of running from problems but wasn't he in the process of making amends for that? He had returned to the Edge despite a deep desire to just avoid them, he had apologized for being weak and powerless and he left his first true home since foalhood because the herd would be better off without him - they had stability now, they had good, strong leaders that had the best interest of the family at heart. Even now he was making amends by aiding another herd, by looking out for the children of friends who had left him behind - because he was sorry for leaving them behind in turn.
"Secondly, how dare you presume you know anything about me or my problems! You, who are little more than a child, stand there telling me that I am not facing the challenges that are thrown at me? You have NO IDEA what you are talking about girl and I would recommend that you stop lecturing others with neither basis nor position to do so. One day it will land you in a situation so sticky that getting out of it might be night impossible - be grateful that I don't have a habit of injuring others just by speaking out of turn. Believe me, I am an exception!"
It was hurtful and unfair and while he knew there was no way for Dröm to know any of this he still found if outrageous that she could throw such words in his face when he hadn't even complained. Had he been anything but polite and kind to her? It was her own damn fault if she chose to interpret word-play and common courtesy for anything more.
Suddenly fuming the stallion stood staring down at the girl, emotion raging through him not unlike the storm outside. Rain cascaded against the glass roof and gushed in rivulets down the panes, creating a veritable waterfall that cut off access to their sheltered space from the outside world. Not only the water made it hard to get out; the trees seemed to have drawn closer too. A mass of branches and roots were churning and coiling in response to the silent anger of the Silverthorn, trees all but uprooting themselves as magic leaked from his person and fed into the wood. Lace noticed but did nothing to stop it; he didn't want to, had no desire to see this mare leave the rotunda before he'd had his say; she would remain there until he chose to let her go - perhaps after a sound apology, or whenever the hurricane in his mind had blown out.
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
She had attempted to leave, attempted to avoid whatever she knew was going to happen. Right after she spoke, Lace... changed. It made the girl scared, but far from angry. It would take much to make little Dröm angry. Perhaps if he decided to injure her, she would grow angry, but for now she was just nervous and skittish. Even the cracks of thunder made her jump slightly. Her eyes gaze at him as his words seep into her mind, every sentence hurting more than the first. It felt to her as if Lace was repeatedly slapping her with beige rubber-bands, stinging the surface of her golden hide. She stepped backwards, away from the suddenly terrorizing male.
She notices Lace keeps bringing up the compliment he gave her and she sighs, accepting defeat that her spunky ways are unknown to Lace. "I wasn't thinking we would fall in love and you'd be my knight in armor, or anything like that. It was just my way of saying that I'd like to hang out with you more. I didn't mean..." She trailed off again as his voice started again, abruptly loud. What were her problems? She had no clue. Was she too friendly? Should she hide her wisdom? She assumes horses just want the barbie doll, not the personality. They just want her to be the adorable eye-candy and nothing else. What would her friends say about that? Would thy tell her that her brain was a good thing or agree with Lace?
Her eyes looked to the ground, tracing the contours of the rock they stand on. Lace blocks the only exit, and she feels twice the amount of terror. He say he won't hurt her, but she fears that he may. Does he like quiet mares better? "Believe me, I am an exception!" She wanted to snort and yell at him that he was just like every other stallion. Oh, I won't hurt you.. yaddayadda, then BAM. The next moment you would see the little flaxen mare on the ground, dead and cold. Stallions were deceptive. As of now, she is still standing, which is a good sign. In fact, it was very much Dröm's turn to speak. Though it was out of line, she spoke in turn, but she kept her comments to herself. Her voice had never done good for her anyways. There was no escaping the Rotunda. Lace was twice her size it seemed. She was damn well stuck.
Lace the Silverthorn It is our actions that define who we are
The girl shrank away from him as his unusual display of temper flared up. This, if anything, only served to aggravate the normally so patient stallion even more. Why was she picking a fight with him if she didn't have any intention of staying to finish the job? The long tail come alive behind the hocks, pallid tresses coiling and snapping as he thrash it about like an agitated feline, and as he shift the dark hooves scrape over the stone floor; a grating sound that set his teeth on edge.
"You have a funny way of inviting people" he reproached coldly, unwilling to forgive her thoughtless words right away. "Usually one refrains from lecturing others until they give you a reason to do so - I don't see how I earned the one you just gave me." Too agitated to stay still much longer he started to pace, prowling the confined space like a tiger in a cage; the dragon had awoken by his emotional surge and raised her head from the paws, watching the exchange with eyes that was alert and ready; she always did respond to his emotions, but seeing as his anger wasn't strong enough to warrant a display, Fajira just waited to see whether it would escalate or die down again.
"Was it the sigh, was it my comment about by heart being gone? What made you think I was running from anything?" he demanded, disregarding the obvious discomfort of the little equine as he pressured her to explain her thoughts. He wasn't even sure why he was so adamant about it, just this itch to know just what it was that had made her think he deserved the scornful, insulting words. Never mind that some of them had been true - Lace wasn't in a mood to admit his own shortcomings, at least not to a downy filly that still reeked of mothers milk and thought the world revolved around her.
Dröm You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.
After everything, he tells her that usually one waits to refrain from a debate. If he hadn't noticed yet, the girl was skittish and easily spooked. Perhaps the only downfall, in her eyes, to being a lightly built arabian was that fighting was something to be avoided until skilled well. A draft would do better in a fight than an arabian, usually. She she could have said three simple words, 'You scare me,' but since his words were not formed into a question, she gave no answer. Just simply stood there, every once in a while her eyes daring to look up at him. He paces back and forth, most likely pissed off.
He asks her a question she dearly wishes she could avoid, but she can't this time. She knows she can't always hide from what she wants to. "It was the sigh, you saying your heart as gone, and the clear crack in your mask. I thought you were the exception, Lace. But I've realized you're just like every other stallion out there." Her words are soft at first, and stay soft, but there is a clear annoyance and distrust behind her words. She tries to think of a way to get out, outraged that he thinks he can just hold her here. He is just like the carnivorous moss in the Falls: growing into a huge wave and crashing down all at once, trying to eat everything in it's wake. That's the night Midas trusted her to do something big, to try to find herd members and move them away from the moss. Was she brave enough and strong enough to escape the monster known as Lace? If not, what would he do to her?
In one rather swift motion, she takes the chance to bolt. She moves quickly towards the exit, hoping to rush out and be free, but only if Lace does not stop her from the freedom she so greatly desires. She wants to leave, to get out. She does not think she has made some grand point. She believes she has told a stallion to get his shit straight, and if he can't even realize that is what he has to do, that is his problem. Not hers.
"blah blah blah."
ooc: lace can stop her if ya want! I have plenty of muse to continue this if you want. :3
Lace the Silverthorn It is our actions that define who we are
He frown at her as she whisper her response, clearly struggling to comprehend what, exactly, it was that he had done to disappoint her. "You are disappointed because I'm not really happy?" he asks, incredulity lacing through his voice. He stop, halfway trough a turn, and stare at her with such intensity that the dragon squirm on his back, displeased with the level of attention he gives someone else.
"You're angry at me for not living up to whatever expectation of perfection you painted me out to have? You know Dröm, that's just stupid... I TOLD YOU TO STAY!" Just then she makes to bolt past him and Lace growl in frustration, beyond aggravated by her skittishness. Letting the girl slip past him and the hissing, spitting dragon he instead focus on the already churning mass of greenery outside, encouraging a particularly thorny shrub of climbing roses to shoot its vines up and around the rotunda, effectively creating a wall that not only shut out the wind and the rain but also made it impossible for either of them to get out in a hurry.
"Don't do that" he barks with distaste, already regretting that he shouted at her but nowhere near calm enough to apologize. "I told you I won't hurt you, just.. You will stay, and we will talk about this until I'm satisfied, alright?" He made no attempt to go closer to her. Considering her state of mind - which, in retrospect, he couldn't blame her for - she was more than likely to panic and hurt herself. Instead he moved to the place where she had stood, leaving nothing but the wall of thorny vines (roses had begun to blossom now, erupting like flowering fireworks as if in apology for the viciousness of the barbs) between Dröm and freedom.
Breathing in deeply in an attempt at calming himself down, Lace shook the head and glowered over at the girl, trying to pick up the thread where he had left the conversation. "As I said... It's stupid to think I'm going to be anything like what you'd expect. You don't know me for one, and for the second... " he paused, hesitating. He felt tired, yet the fire within craved an end to this, a close that made sense; it wouldn't let him rest until every rhetoric knot of this tangled web had been sorted out. "Why am I like 'every other stallion? I have no idea what you mean, please explain this to me?"
It was the best he could do at the moment, but as the black-faced stallion gazed over at the young mare he felt dispirited; the odds of her actually being willing to talk this out seemed minimal.
Her attempt at freedom is thwarted by the rapidly growing bush that encloses her, Lace, and the dragon who has very much woken up. She slides to a halt, barely able to stop her body from sliding straight into the thorny bush. She ignores Lace telling her not to do that, and pretty much everything he said before. He tells her that she is staying here until he is satisfied, and he ends with an 'alright?' Like that one word will make her feel better. After all, she is stuck in here with a stallion she believes may be psychopathic. She has become a hostage, and if Lace thought this would make it better, he was wrong. Though she has lost any hope for the stallion, he is much too overpowered for her to take on. "Alright." She replies in a monotone. Her bouncy tone vanished. She faces away from him, her head peering at the large rose bush. Suddenly, flowers begin to bud and bloom, giving the green bush color. "Why is it blooming roses?" She asks softly, worried he may lash out at her (again).
Their conversation moves on, Lace appearing to calm down somewhat. Dröm has also calmed down, knowing there is no escape. If he is going to do something, nothing is going to stop him and that's a fate she is starting to somewhat except. Still, she doesn't want to face him, to see him. So, she lets him talk to her ass. "I'm disappointed because you lied to me, yet I haven't lied to you once. Yes, I expected you to be different. Oh, well! Get over it, we all know first impressions can be bitches. I don't know you, you're right, but I want-ed to." Wanted, as in past-tense. She no longer desires to know the Silverthorn. He asked why he's like other stallions, and she wishes to change her statement to 'You're not. You're ten times worse.' But she didn't feel the need for that. Instead, she muscles up the courage to twist her head around and look at him. "I'm not going to tell you, a stranger, all my secrets." This was something she was sure of.
Her past may not seem like much, but to her, every little thing that happened has made her what she is and if Lace wishes to know the secrets and inner-workings of the flaxen girl, he is going to have to cough up a few of his past stories, too. She will not be the only one doing the talking. She turns her head back to the plants and reaches her muzzle for one of the roses. She tries to touch the soft petals with her equally soft muzzle, but it afraid they will be horrible. Will they poison her, and rot her face off?
Lace the Silverthorn It is our actions that define who we are
"What? Oh..." he said distractedly, not overly interested in the roses at all. "I don't know. Because I made it to grow, maybe, feeding it with magic. Or because it's what roses do... Perhaps even to make you less scared, since you don't have a reason to be. I don't know what roses think." He shrugged a bit, suppressing a desire to sigh. Things just weren't going well for him today. First a wolverine, then the storm, now this row that had left him with a mare scared half to death and a personal, stubborn refusal to leave before he'd made up with her.
He thought he'd be pleased when she actually replied to his questions, but now all he got was more frustrating statements. He'd lied to her? When? Had he been untruthful by not wearing all his emotions on the sleeve, or was she misunderstading something else? This time the stallion sighed, a weary sound that made the leaves of the shrub flutter and whisper, stirring as though someone invisible had brushed against them while walking around the room. The sound of the thunder and rain was fainter now, muffled by the wall of green; Lace was grateful, at least he wouldn't have to raise his voice again.
"When did I ever lie to you?" he asked half resignedly and gave her well-shaped rump an exasperating look, half annoyed, half amused by her childish refusal to look at him. "I've uttered half a dozen sentences since I arrived, which one was untrue? You can't honestly expect everyone to expose their innermost thoughts and feelings to you right from the get go, it's just not how the world works."
But then she turn his words against him and throw them back into his face, and Lace sigh once more and glare at her stubborn tail. He was fairly certain that he'd arrived to the core of the matter, but if she refused to tell him what was wrong then how would they ever be able to get past this? He absolutely refused to part with Dröm if she still viewed him as a villain over something she had started.
"Alright" he said, clearly struggling to maintain the calmness of his voice again. "I'll just have to make it so that I'm not a stranger anymore then, shall I? Where to begin..."
"I was born far from here, in a land called Gassul. It was a place where neither magic, winged horses nor horn-wearers existed; whether because the gods of the land had died a long time ago, or because the region was designed like that I don't know. My mother was a common mare in one of the largest clans in the country, and my father was a knight; a soldier sworn to defend the honor of himself, his clan and everyone who lived in it. When I was six months old I was separated from my parents and put in training along with every other colt my age, so that I too might become a knight. We were constantly at war, and before I was a year old I'd already participated in battle; by two I had already killed my first enemy. They called me brave then, said I was talented and had a promising future. Life was rough and dangerous, yet I was happy; I had my family, I had friends, and I was content. Then nature revolted, a mountain erupted and covered all of Gassul in fire and ash. All the clans scattered, some in groups and some on their own; I lost sight of my family in the panic to get away, and by the time I stopped running everything around me was unfamiliar. For some time I tried to find my way back, I searched for mother and father and my friends; but as the weeks passed I realized that not only was I alone, I didn't have anything to go back to. I kept walking."
He paused to clear his voice and turned away, staring blindly into the blooming vines as he relived his own memories. It was funny - he hadn't thought of his parents in such a long time, and now that he did the strength of his own emotions was almost enough to choke him. He wondered whether they were alive still, if he had gotten siblings - or whether the homeland still was as he remembered it; dying and destroyed.
"I roamed aimlessly for about a year after that" he eventually continued, steadying the voice so that it wouldn't tremble. "Sometimes I joined in with other travelers, sometimes I walked alone. More than once I had to defend myself against territorial herds, against predators or nature itself. I was on my third year of life when I came to Isilme, a land lying not too far from here. There I came across unicorns and pegasi for the first time, and was introduced to the concept of racism. It was a magnificent land Isilme; magic ran strong through the earth, its gods were alive and plentiful; but it was also a very tragic place. Constantly torn asunder by war and hatred, the spirits of what they called Originals, powerful stallions of each race constantly goading the leaders of the herds to be better, stronger, to conquer all the world for themselves. I was eventually swept up in it all as well, recruited into the equine herd by a mare called Aera the Shadowkissed. She led a section of the enormous nation they referred to as the Equine Empire, spanning more than two thirds of the land. I didn't think much about the implications then, I was just glad to have been scouted; I was allowed to join the ranks of the warriors, and took pride in patrolling the borders with the others. I think I was happy there, in the forest by the sea. I grew stronger, I found Fajira's egg and was entrusted to take care of it; life seemed great once more. But even as I grew to care for and love my fellow herdmates, I... I wanted something else, something more. I'd made friends with those of other races, and when it was frowned upon..."
He trailed off there, clearly struggling to find words. How could he possibly explain so she could understand, describe the superior mindset, the loathing of everything that was different, the chaos and thirst for blood? Without ever setting foot in the land, it would be impossible, and Lace possessed no gift for imprinting understanding into others - as had been made quite clear today.
With a deep breath, he instead just plunged into it, eyes closed and voice tight with disgust at himself.
"I betrayed them" he blurted, refusing to look at the girl so he wouldn't see whatever reaction she made to this. "I knew Aera had a history with the leading mare of another herd, Querida the LightningQueen; so I struck a deal with her, to set up a situation where she could do battle with my leader in private. In exchange I would be guaranteed a place in her own herd; I'd have everything I already possessed, and the freedom to make friends with whomever I wished as well." It seemed such a low price now, such a loathsome thing to do. How had he even come up with the idea?
"She agreed, I led Aera to the borders with some cock-and-bull story - and then I left, leaving her there to fend for herself. I don't know how the fight ended; I never tried to find out."
"After that, war broke out between the Empire and the unicorns, joined by us from the Woodlands as alliances had been made. I participated, battling my former friends; I lost pretty badly, something I'm quite glad over now; I took it hard back then of course, because I was a cocky ass of a youngster, not much older than you are now and I thought nothing would be able to defeat me. My new herd won the fight, later known as the War of the Tides, and this just made things worse; I began to withdraw from the others, I made a mess of things as old friends blamed me for my betrayal.. and before another season had passed I left along with Fajira."
"Then... I roamed. Straying from one place to the next, searching for something without knowing what. My own innocence perhaps, or some semblance of the confidence I once possessed. Maybe I just wanted someone to point me out for what I was; a turncoat and a traitor, and give me the punishment I deserved. It never happened; instead I joined mercenary bands and worked for one lord against another, offering up my life and blood in return for what I could get; a night in a sheltered place, food... mares..." He gave her a sideways glance at this, a dry grin ghosting over the corners of the mouth. "Somehow I survived, but nothing I did could take away the despair I felt. So, when Fajira began nagging at me about finding other dragons again, I wasn't too averse to obliging. I thought that maybe by going back to Isilme I could make right some of my old wrongs, maybe I could help someone and restore my honor. But... Isilme is no more. When we came upon the borders we found that it had been overrun by ghouls, shadowlike monsters with no love for the living. It was a land of the dead now, and we had to turn back without ever seeing our old home again. I didn't know what to do, Fajira was saddened; we kept walking, and it was by pure coincidence we stumbled into the Threshold here."
Another smile flicked across the mouth, this time accompanied by a knowing look as he glanced at Dröm; surely she knew what it was like, if she too came from another place. The uncertainty, the chaos of tracks and scents, the hesitation of whether to continue or turn around...
"I was approached then by a mare named Mirage" and here his voice suddenly turned warm, completely unable to hide the strength of his feelings for the mentioned lady - not that he tried. "She tried to recruit me into her outcast band, the Qian, tried to persuade me to join her cause in spreading peace and equality... But I'd had enough of herds and wars, I just wanted to be alone; so I declined and went off on my own, determined to keep away from anything and anyone that could possibly be hurt by my presence or who could hurt me. Imagine then my surprise when I realized that many of the old inhabitants of Isilme had fled here! It was pain and pleasure all at once, so incredibly bittersweet to be able to hear their voices, to see their faces and talk about the times that had passed. My conscience awoke like a roaring beast, I dredged deeper into depression... "
"It was Mirage that saved me, really. She refused to give up, kept following me around and nagged about the Qian. Eventually she had me cough up a confession about my crimes.... and she forgave me." The incredulity at this was even now strong enough to cast light over his face, a sense of wonder and trembling hope that was almost painful to see. "She absolved me of my sins and gave me a place to stay, she claimed I was needed in her family, in her Qian... I now owed her more than she will ever know, and so I accepted. I joined her ranks, I sparred with the soldiers, and when the seasons turned I went to war against the World's Edge, which then was under the reign of a unicorns only herd. We won. Mirage was blessed with a dragon's shape, named DragonHeart and became the queen of the land, and I became burdened with the blessing of the Moon... I thought it would make me happy too, because once again I had a herd to protect, a family to treasure... " Lace sighed.
"I don't even know why things turned out the way they did. I did my best to be a good clansman, I really did. I wielded the magical glass of the Moon Goddess in the name of the Qian, I defended the herd from invations as the banished unicorns continued to hold a grudge; I have lost count of all the kidnappings, skirmishes and outright wars fought against the horned - the Aurora Basin as they called themselves after finding a land up north. Yet while the herd thrived I remained discontent, restless. I'd lost my heart to Mirage but she didn't respond like I wished her to, her emotions for me remained that of a friend or treasured brother; she called it love but it wasn't the love I desired. I had to watch her grieve as one of our most loyal brothers was murdered, watched her falter and seek comfort with another as our sister was killed not long after that. She turned secretive, elusive, and when suddenly an attack by the Basin was revealed to have been provoked by her, I'd had enough. I stepped down from my position of power, I spoke of leaving the herd since she didn't trust me enough to consult before doing reckless things. Do you know what she did, Dröm? She offered me a crown. She asked me to rule by her side, to mount her even though she'd already birthed the daughters of another stallion, as if bedding her somehow would make things better. What does it say about me that I accepted the crown but not the mare? What kind of horse am I to not be able to leave a mare even after such an insult?" He shook his head, disgusted. The tale was almost over now, his words all but arrived at the present, the shame, the biggest failure of them all. He rushed on, wanted it to be over; then the girl might judge him, and see if she could do better.
"I ruled as best I could for the better part of a season" he pressed on, sounding tired now. "My measures to safeguard against the northern threat didn't go down well however, the herd didn't seem to think that being strict and firm was the way to go. More than once I heard them speak of me as racist and dictatorial because I remained suspicious of the horned kind, as though they hadn't suffered the loss of loved ones at cloven hooves as well. Perhaps we might have been able to work something out; unfortunately there was never time to do so. Darkness descended over Helovia, a disease that made creatures mad and cloaked them in horrendous forms. Unable to defend the Edge from it I had to watch them scatter, flee for their lives when I should have been there to defend them. I could only save one child before succumbing to the illness myself... and I thank the gods that I don't remember much of what happened while I was in that state." Almost, now, almost finished. His throat felt dry, the eyes hot and itchy. The storm raged on outside yet it was nothing to the one within as his life of repeated failures was laid bare.
"I came too sometime in late spring, realizing that I was returning back to my normal health. Helovia awakened something within me you see, it helps me heal quickly, it mends my bones and sew flesh back together; it purged my body from the plague, and the last was healed by my young protégé when I arrived back in the Threshold around midsummer. Since then I have been going around to check on my friends, making sure that they are alive and in health; I am also on a mission as offered by the Sun Lord, patron god of Dragon's Throat, who suggested I might be able to start anew there."
And it was done. He had told her everything, every single detail worth mentioning; was he still a stranger now? Did she require anything more of him before an end could be seen to this argument? Perhaps she had gotten at least a glimpse of his dislike for discord, how much he hated prejudice and preconceptions. Maybe, just maybe she would find that even though he was far from perfect she didn't have to cower in his presence, no matter how much he raised his voice.
He was, however, very stubborn, and if this was what it took for her to trust him, then he'd continue to gut himself and spill all the dirty secrets, all the heartbreak and self-loathing for the world to see. May it make her happy, if only it made her stop painting him out as a villain. He didn't wish to be one.
After she asks of the roses, Lace tells her they are either their for the magic surging through from him, that they just wish to bloom, or that they are there to make her feel better, but they do not. Their sweet scent envelopes her, but they are so pretty they charm her to stay and admire their delicate petals. Lace's voice begins once more, and his time the girl turns her entire body to face him. As she spins around, her tail gets caught on the branches. She does not mind, however and lets her tail hang loosely in the thorn and roses. "When did I ever lie to you?" She is surprised by his words and speaks up as soon as the question has been asked. "Do you not remember why I scolded you? For pretending to be something else." That was the lie, and it wasn't the center of this conversation, though. It may seem the conversation spotlight was on Lace, but truly, the golden femme was looking for ways to escape, how to break past the roses and run. Run free, home. Upon returning home, she would tell whoever would listen that a stallion from the desert had effectively held her hostage in the pavilion type building, and basically forced her to tell him whatever he wanted to hear, but she couldn't quite figure out what he wanted to hear. He had not said a lie, but he had acted in an untruthful manner which is a lie.
He tells her that he will just have to no longer be a stranger, and both of her ears flick forwards, interested in what he will say. He starts by saying he was born in some faraway land, that he admits is called Gassul. This name is rather unknown to her, but she does not admit that yet. Instead, she offers a little nod, as if communicating that she is listening to his story very closely. He tells her that his land had no magic, no wings, no horns. Well, hers did. Her home was full of horses with feathers riddled on extraordinarily large appendages, unicorns with single daggers growing from their brow, and magic of war, health, anything anyone desired. She had never really thought of the gods in her home. Surely there were gods. How could the magic exist if there weren't? Lace's home seemed rather dull in her mind, yet some horses loved the simplicity of things, perhaps lace was one of them. At a young age, she learns that Lace was put into training, yet she does not feel sorry for him. Should he desire her to sob for him, he would need more than a separation, for that had happened to the golden mare, too. The program she had been put into was one that drilled intelligence into her, not war. Clearly her father, the leader of the land, knew she would not make a good fighter. When does a skittish mare ever make a good fighter? It is revealed that a volcano had split them up, and the girl figured her couldn't find them because they had drowned in the sea of ash and burnt dead bodies, trying to breath but unable get anything but ash into their lungs. She begins to pity him, but her parents (she assumes) are dead. Most likely, everyone's have also been murdered or have just died.
He turns away from her, staring into the bushes as she had been previously doing. Did he want her support? That was something she would not give to a stallion holding her hostage, forcing her to listen. He could pour his heart out all day, but that would not change the fact that she was stuck, a thorn rose bush between her and freedom. Each rose, though beautiful, has a thorn to call it's own. Yes,she could easily attempt to run through the bush, snapping branches as she escaped to freedom, but the horns would prick and cut her everywhere. The branches would rip her tresses out and leave her with an all around scraggly appearance, she did not want that.
He begins speaking about his travels to a land obsessed with power and control. He says names, but she doesn't bother to accept them into her memory for now. Aera is unimportant to her, only important to Lace. "So... they were racist? But you can't choose who your parents are. That seems narrow and closed minded of Aera and whoever stayed with her cause." Lace did not stay with her cause. He tells goldy that he betrayed her. Which wasn't the best way to handle the situation, but she doesn't argue with him-- the story far to interesting to argue with.
"Freedom is a nice thing." She remarks with a tone that borderline aggravation. He gets freedom and she doesn't. That seems fair-- not. He gets the freedom he desires and goldy doesn't. She is a simple mare, yet confined to a cage Lace has put her in. Lace continues, and she believes he has ignored her statement. He had let Aera fight some other lead and he didn't stay to find out what happened. He had made some deal, which it seemed he did not regret. The next events of his life were about war and betrayal. This did not surprise the girl. He spoke of himself as a cocky youngster, and she holds back her urge to say that nothing has changed. The stallion had come in here, right off the bat talking about his speed and calling her beautiful. Was the young mare not supposed to be lulled into his sweet words?
He left that home, a pattern beginning to become apparent to the girl listening to his quite long story. He admits it was just coincident (fate, the liars would say) that he ended up here. Was the story the same for the girl? She hadn't really thought about it, but now since the only thing she could do is think, that is what she does. She hadn't really expected to come to some majestic land. She wasn't really sure what she had thought. Exploring seemed like the only thing she could do and her exploration led her here. Until now, exploring had been kind to her, but this time it resulted in her being captured by some monster. Thus monster was unusual in his ways, and she wondered what someone like Elsa would do in this situation. She probably would have been smart enough to stay out of this situation. He glances at her and smiles. She cocks her head slightly in return. She hoped the story would continue. It couldn't just end there!
The thing Dröm doesn't realize is that the story is only halfway done.
Lace introduces a horse named Mirage. At first, Dröm thought she'd be another betrayed leader. Someone lace only used to get ahead, but it seems that was not the case. The mare named Mirage is actually a main point in Lace's life, it seems. He tells her that Mirage had nagged him to join her group, and eventually he did. He grew depressed and it was the persistent Mirage who was able to save him from the horrible depression. When she gave him a home, he realized that many isilme horses were here. It was strange that they all cane here. It seems as if everyone choose the beaten path and it brought them to Helovia. Though she continues to listen, his story is long and her brain begins mixing up facts and details, but one thing is certain... He should have stayed with Mirage.
In a twist of events, it seemed as if Mirage became a poor leader, her only solution was sleeping around and promotions. Did she not understand how to be rational? Why had no one kicked her out? She started a war, for heavens sake! She should have been kicked out as soon as possible. Lace acquired the crown, but it seemed his way was disliked by the herd. He protected then from northern unicorns, and they repay him with comments of racism. Was no one civil in Helovia? He speaks of some disease and himself succumbing to it. What disease? How had there been an outbreak? Why had Lace run? Why had he come back? Many questions bubbled in her mind, but the one she assumed most important screamed at her. Where is Mirage?
"Your story is long, yet fascinating. I do still feel somewhat like a stranger, though. My turn now?" She asked him softly, idly wondering if he would let her. In all honesty, she would say whatever she wanted and Lace wouldn't stop her. Rose bushes can't fix everything.
Lace the Silverthorn It is our actions that define who we are
The story was a long one indeed, and it left him feeling empty and drained. Fajira had settled back down to sleep somewhere halfway through, interest waning when she realized that she knew most if not all of this already - she shared his mind after all, and partook in every thought, every fleeting memory; even the ones Lace thought he no longer remembered. In many ways the dragon knew her bonded better than he knew herself. But for the most part she didn't tell him this; it was healthy to discover yourself after all.
He had refrained from interrupting himself to respond to any of the remarks the girl made throughout the tale, and saw little reason to return to them now. In many ways they had made it quite clear that she had not understood the environment he had grown up in, that she didn't see why he, as she put it, pretended to be someone he wasn't. Wearing your heart on your sleeve, letting every emotion show plainly across the face was a sure-fire way to get yourself killed. If an enemy knew that a word, and action or a threat made you upset or angry or sad they would take that knowledge and use it against you, endangering not only your own life but the life of others as well. This fact, along with a rigorous training in etiquette and a fundamentally caring personality made it second nature for Lace to hide his troubles, so as not to burden others with his own problems. It was not polite to sully a perfectly pleasant conversation with grim topics if it wasn't necessary, it was not good manners to bring up subjects that might inconvenience or trouble a friend. It was downright uncouth to get intimate with a stranger, and this long story-of-my-life went against every rule of polite behavior that Lace had ever followed. Taking so much time of this girl to talk about himself! It was preposterous, just as bad as forcing her to remain here when she clearly didn't wish to.
But as much as he regretted his words and actions, he loathed the idea of parting while she had this impression that he was untruthful and dangerous. Lace was a stallion with some measure of pride, he didn't like the idea of his reputation getting sullied by misconceptions. If he necessarily had to gain a bad name it should be because of something he had done and thus deserved - not due to a mare's wild imagination.
So, despite a desire to just remove the vines and let Dröm go, he instead nodded when she offered to finally (FINALLY!) answer his question. "Yes, please."
The mission to gain her trust was still on, he would listen and try to understand... and with some luck (or rather a huge miracle) they would be able to reconcile and leave in peace.
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[P] Silver trinkets and golden leather
![[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/photo/action/view_image/photo_link/53d6f2ea9010d)
