"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.
Pregnancy was not a new concept for the Transcended, though such excitement over her condition was unprecedented. She remembered each pregnancy with equal parts love and anxiety, for they had all held challenges. She had been afraid - at first of making mistakes, and then of never seeing her children, of being a terrible mother, of failing to keep them safe. She had been guilty, for her second child left her and her third child had been born of adultery. She had been everything but a present, supportive mother, instead hiding behind her wall of insecurities, hoping and praying that somehow, somehow things would turn out all right despite her inability to take the reins.
But this time was different. This time, she had hoped for her pregnancy. This time, she had prayed for their health. This time, she had a dependable stallion by her side, and though they were not, perhaps, the most romantic couple, they were nothing if not effective as a pair. She loved him, after all, and he her, and that had become very much enough for the angel, even though she had once been desperate for the approval of any stallion. This time, she had chosen him, and he her. This time she was stronger, and more confident, and a better mare.
And so this time, when her figure began to grow and swell, she had sought out her lover and told him, in halting and broken sentences (as he had begun to teach her his language), that she was mesilat, and she had been overjoyed as she watched her stomach fill out until she could not possible be any bigger. Her WildFire had protected her, had patiently and painstakingly conversed with her as they taught each other and learned from one another. And they had waited.
Finally, the day of the birthing was upon them. He was not there, but she knew that he would arrive shortly (she couldn't tell you quite how she knew, but she was certain of it). The Sultana paced back and forth underneath her favorite palm, close to the lake in the midst of their oasis. She had elected to stay in the Dragon's Throat for several days, wanting her child to be born in their homeland rather than the magical, floating island in the sky.
She gasped as another contraction took her, stronger than the last, and she felt an unyielding need to lie down; her knees buckled and she sank into the sand, thankful for its warmth on her body. She had broken out in a cold sweat, for though the Sun shone brightly overhead, His heat was greatly diminished on the cool Orangemoon day; and the heated sand was soothing on her writhing, tumbling belly and her aching, twitching muscles. The contractions came closer now, and she squealed painfully as she felt the need to push. And so her first son was born.
But her body was not done, and her eyes widened as she realized that she had been carrying twins. Fear took her then, for her first set of twins had been a disaster - and she craned her neck to see, praying, Please, please - and when she saw his tiny ribs rise, she allowed herself to sink back down with a grateful groan. A few moments passed, but it seemed like hours - and then she gave a final push, and it was over, and her second son was born.
It had been an easy pregnancy...hadn't it? Of course it had been, at least for the WildFire. The endurance needed to bear the weight of one child was something that the dun would never experience, much less the weight of two. But Sohalia had done so brilliantly. Their time together had been seemingly easy - days spent discussing the future of the Throat, and tutoring Sohalia in the language of his people. She had taken to the tongue fairly well, although the awkard way that she had initially pronounced his arcaic words made him chuckle. However the speed with which her awkward annunciation diminished was even more impressive. She truly was Transcended. And he loved her dearly.
Patrolling had been easy that day. With the arrival of the new Island that had suddenly appeared in the clouds, peace had fallen over the lands. Even so, Gaucho would not allow the military presence slack. It had apparently already done so under the reign of the Starry-Eyed and his kahleesi - Hector was really the only viable warrior he had seen since his return. If there were more, they hadn't presented themselves to him. That in itself was troublesome - but thoughts such as those were far from the mind of the WildFire on this day.
This day, his sons were to be born.
His blue-gray gaze had been subconsciously searching for the form of the swollen white mare, and after about an hour or so of slowly patrolling the lands, he spotted her. Gaucho flanks were covered in sweat, but not as much as Soh's were. Landing neatly beside her, he nickered gently in greeting, though did so quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the work her body was currently performing. He fanned his great black wings, and although they were lined with fire, as he beat them a cool breeze gently wafted towards the Transcended. He hadn't been present at the birth of Zenobia, their eldest child, having arrived moments after. Although he was glad that he was here this time, part of him felt childlike in his inability to aid her through this process.
Continuing to try and provide a cool breeze, he dropped his nose to her wither, gently ruffling her tangled mane to encourage her. Mara slithered up one of her legs, gently moving her forelock from her eyes, and hissing her own sort of encouragement.
Gaucho's black ears flickered backwards as the twins fell neatly upon the sands. One appeared to not be breathing. Grunting Gaucho rapidly moved forward, pushing the creatures tiny black chest. His nose - nearly the size of Rhoa's shoulder, pushed and prodded as if trying to force the small creature to breathe. Eventually, he did. Although his breathes were raspy and shallow. For a moment, the WildFire's attention was torn between seeing to the small gray bodies, or attending to Sohalia. After a moment, he left the two to rest at Soh's side, and moved towards her head. Nickering softly again, his head dipped low to gently brush against her muzzle.
09-07-2014, 07:13 PM (This post was last modified: 09-07-2014, 07:13 PM by Sohalia.)
The moment after the birth was peaceful. She was dimly aware of the cool breeze provided by her mate, the way his muzzle felt as it skimmed along her wither; but for that moment, she saw and heard very little, for she had grown so out of breath that all she was truly aware of was the exhaustion. She felt Gaucho move from her, heard the first, gasping breaths of one of the twins, and was relieved that at least they were both alive. Then the blood rushed back to her head as she rolled instinctively onto her knees, and she craned her neck to gaze adoringly at the two small forms blessing the sand beside her.
Gaucho nickered and brushed his muzzle against hers, and she smiled, leaning her cranium into his embrace. "Proud," he murmured, and she smiled. Her lightning-bird circled overhead, crowing his own excitement to the wind, for he had yet to be present for any of her children. Although he had yet to completely forgive Gaucho, he loved the children for the half of his bonded they bore, and for a zephyr as prideful as he, it was of the utmost importance that the rest of Helovia know of the wonder of their birth.
The dove place her forelegs carefully in the sand and pulled herself shakily to her feet. The aftereffects of birth were not particularly pleasant, and she felt her stomach roil and her head spin as her body acclimated to standing upright. Her head dropped as she nuzzled the two colts, carefully cleaning them and encouraging their blood to flow. The rasping breath of the first worried her, for it sounded very much like he struggled to breathe; the second, blinking sleepily up at her, had a clouded, almost colorless eye. Anxiety again overtook her, and she glanced to Gaucho, worry lining her delicate features.
Find Andromeda, shekhikhi, she told Astraeus silently. It was a plea more than an order, for though they had both been born alive, her paranoia from previous births left her with a great deal of concern over even the simplest of things. In all likelihood, Rhoa would outgrow the wheezing, and Ivezho's eye would clear soon, but she wanted to be sure. She needed to be sure. As Astraeus flew away, she nudged Gaucho's shoulder. "They are beautiful, shekh ma shieraki anni," she whispered, adding her favorite phrase of his language. This, at least, she pronounced perfectly, though she stumbled quite often over other words and phrases. "We should name them. Something... strong, and proud."
"Talk talk talk."
@[Gaucho]
@[Andromeda]
Translations ::
shekhikhi | my light, a pet name commonly used for children (or, in this case, a companion)
shekh ma shieraki anni | my sun and stars
09-07-2014, 07:20 PM (This post was last modified: 09-07-2014, 11:27 PM by Rhoa.)
rhoa
i walk in the air
between the rain
through myself
& back again.
Sometimes reality hits you hard.
For me, it was my birth. Not only did I have to share my room with my twin, which had been getting pretty cramped lately, but suddenly the darkness of the womb became darker somehow. And I began to die.
Here's what I remember: there was cramping, then pushing. I think I felt my brother kick me, but perhaps that was Mother's rib cage. Either way, my lungs that had never before experience air, suddenly felt like they had been switched in the reverse direction - instead of pulling air into my lungs, all of it was being forced out. Which, given that there wasn't any to begin with, was particularly painful. Next came a thud, and then the burning sensation of sand. Everything felt different, but I unfortunately didn't have much time to take it all in.
I was dying.
I felt something shove my shoulder roughly. If I could, I might have asked just what that was meant to accomplish. My shoulder wasn't the problem, my lungs were. At my sides, my wings, small and gray, beat feebly. As if to visually reinforce what was happening within my body, the skin beneath my feathers began to burn and glisten, as if my core was on fire, slowly bleeding through. Only it wasn't, for no heat was being given off. I was simply burning dramatically. Thanks Dad.
"urrrhhhhh-".
I just want to breathe. Mom, Dad? Ivezho?
I try to open my eyes but...nah. It's too much work. I don't think I can move anything now. I can feel all the energy draining out of my body. Have my hooves always felt this heavy? Was the world always so cold? At first the sands felt blisteringly hot against my coat, but now....Now things feel like water. Am I floating? Or am I dissolving? I can't really tell. I don't have any other experiences to compare this to. All I have known is creation - being slowly formed within the womb of my mother. Now, that I am alive, all I know is death.
I am dying.
I can feel mother. She's cleaning me. Why? What's the point? I can her speaking - them speaking, Mother and Father. About what I wonder. How I shall be buried?
I wish I could tell Mother thank you.
Thank you mother...goodbye Ivezho. Sorry I've disappointed you Father..
From foal stats: Born with a partially obstructed lung and nearly dies at birth - the lung will heal and return to normal on its own over two years.
AND YOU DON'T WANT TO BE HERE IN THE FUTURE, SO YOU SAY THE PRESENT'S JUST A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION TO THE PAST.
Until The End, his world had been warm and dark. He led a comfortable existence, kept close to his brother in their silent, mutual solitude. He was happy, or at least as happy as he knew he could be, and if it were his choice, he would have simply continued his warm, dark, easy, comfortable life. But it was The End, and now his life was over.
At first, it was just the light. It was bright and harsh, and there was too much of it. He and his brother were squeezed together, not quite tangled up together but not quite apart either, and he was all-too-aware of every kick and squirm. The light got bigger, and brighter, and it just kept growing, and he just wanted it to stop, because it was dark and warm and nice in here, and he was not at all prepared for The End. But this was The End, and so he heaved a mental sigh and braced himself, or let himself go, or something, because what was one supposed to do when faced with their untimely demise?
The sand, when he hit it, was warm and rough, and it came as such a surprise that he could not help but let out a violent sneeze. He was immediately cold, despite the sun-heated particles beneath him - there was a gentle movement in the - the - nothingness around him and it chilled him, sending shivers down his spine. He felt his body move in weird ways - his ribcage lifted, and the nothingness invaded his lungs; his ears twitched, catching the very first mumbling of sound, a deep voice that he had dimly heard before The End, as though muffled through a thick blanket; his skin quivered in the breeze and his eyelids fluttered open, and he was blinded until he shut them again.
His mother cleaned him, and his twin, and despite the pleasurable warmth she brought and the beginnings of his blood's circulation, bringing the rest of his body to life, he realized after a moment that there was something wrong with his brother. Although the nothingness that was air whooshed in and out of Ivezho's lungs, Rhoa was not so lucky. The colt struggled, even after his first breath, and Ivezho snorted, hard, as though doing so could clear his brother's airway. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what, and he didn't know how to help. It brought panic to his infantile mind, though he could not yet put a name to the feeling - the desperate need to protect this brother whom he loved so very much.
As the lightning bird-creature locked eyes with Soh, and flew away Gaucho knew that his mate too had seen the signs of distress apparent on their first born son. Tension strained Gaucho's handsome features as his attention was diverted back towards the gray bodies, laying in the sands. One - the twin who had come out second - seemed to be fine. Lines of churning red seemed to line his body, as if his core was made of igniting rock, shattered through. Although he appeared to be internally on fire, no heat was released from his body. Gaucho would have smiled at this, had worry not already permeated through his simplistic mind.
The other twin, more of a solid colour, lay nearly motionless. His wings moved slightly, revealing the same sort of ember-esque pattern that was displayed so boldly over his twin's body. Still, Gaucho would trade the magnificent colouring of both twins, to see this one move. Mara slithered down from Sohalia's neck, moving to the darker twin. Her body slid from side to side out of worry, hissing gently. Her ability allowed her to paralyze and hypnotize. But giving life? Curing it? These were not gifts she possessed. Gaucho too, felt just as useless.
Grunting, the dun's ears flickered as a raspy breath was drawn into Rhoa's small body. It was not enough to fully inflate his lungs, but it would at least provide nourishment to the rest of his body. The other twin appeared to be breathing much more easily - a small snort escaping his tiny muzzle. This made the WildFire smile dimly through his worry.
"Boys are haj." He offered, pulling his gaze from the twins, to Sohalia's radiant features. Gaucho's eyes were pained - torn between the thrill of the birth, his pride in how well Sohalia had done - and his worry about their eldest son. "Ivezho and Rhoa. Remember those words my shierak? They make good names."
"Boys are haj," the WildFire declared, and the corners of her lips turned up in a slight smile, though the expression could not erase the concern evident in the lines of her face. They will need to be strong, to be born so weak. Her muzzle traced along her elder son's fragile body, pressing gently to encourage him to continue breathing. It was inconsistent and shallow, and though his wings glowed with new life, she was afraid that he would not live to make use of them. No. He is haj. He will live, and he will be strong. She was resolute, determined, because imagining that she could control their fates made dealing with her inability to do so easier.
"Rhoa and Ivezho," she said aloud, feeling the foreign words roll easily off her tongue. "Yes, I remember." She thought for a moment, moving her maw to Ivezho, knowing it was just as important to build a bond with the younger son despite her need to help the elder. "They are good names," she conceded after a moment, pleased with their choice and delighted with their sons. Even through her worry, she smiled up at her mate, love for him and for their sons very clear in her gaze.
The dove methodically switched from one child to the other, hoping that Astraeus would find Andromeda soon. Ivezho seemed healthy enough, save his clouded eye; he was beginning to stir, and she was sure that he would be on his feet soon, though his distress over his twin's pain was tangible. She murmured softly to the pair, a mixture of Helovia's common tongue and her lover's foreign one, carefully selecting words to keep her mind from panic. Her voice was steady - more so than she would have expected. Leadership had matured her, had prepared her for more than she had ever imagined - even for this.
i walk in the air
between the rain
through myself
& back again.
I think they're still speaking. I'm not really sure. It's sort of like a hum - it might as well be, of course I don't understand any of the words. I'm sure I will one day, but today is not that today.
Today might not even be a day I live to see the end of.
My lungs feel like they are slowly started to work - whatever was holding them closed is now lessening, but it is still a struggle. Should I continue to fight? Is that what I am? A fighter? They are nudging me - is that to send me on my way? To eternal sleep? Back to the dark depths from where I so recently emerged? Or are they meant to be guiding touches, bringing me back to life?
I think Ivezho is near me - He feels different now, now that we are disconnected from Mother, it is like we've been disconnected from each other. Still, I feel him. Maybe not physically, but he is there. Somehow I also know that he isn't experiencing what I am. His lungs have inflated, his breathing is normal. He is good, and healthy. Perhaps our Mother and Father will only have one son. Perhaps there is only room in this world for one...
...
Even as I think those words, I know they aren't true. I have a place. A purpose. I will be great. I am destined for it, even though I am wholly unaware of my heritage. The blood of the WildFire and the Transcended course through my veins.
I am Rhoa. Son of Mother and Father. I will live.
Although it would be nice to have some help. With all the might in my bones, I try to suck inwards. It's a new feeling; sucking, but it comes to me naturally. I am sure there is more to life than this, and I want it. Suddenly it's all I can feel, all I can think. Those words, I want to know them. I want to know them all. Mother - I want to see her, to know her face and eyes and mane. I want to know the outside of her as intimately as I know the inside. I want to understand the ground I am laying on, and the face of my brother.
But most importantly, I would look upon the face of my Father, and I would remember it very well.
09-07-2014, 11:56 PM (This post was last modified: 09-08-2014, 12:23 AM by Andromeda.)
I've lost myself in the Deep Forest, happily ignoring my homeland. I don't want to go back there, to thoughts of Dalibor, the pain that he left me with. And I don't want to talk to anyone about it, if possible. No one but him. My thoughts are disturbed, however, when I hear a cry up in the sky. Astraeus, flying above me, his cry indicative of his search for me. I neigh up to him, and he cries down again. Instead of making him come down to me, I rise up into the sky, out of the canopy and toward his hovering form. I don't have to ask to know that he wants me to follow him, and he blinks at me just once before flying off toward the Throat.
I'm being called home.
My heart aches, and I hope that perhaps I will be in the desert land only briefly. Luckily it doesn't prevent me from flying efficiently and powerfully, easily keeping up with the lighter avian. Soon, we're crossing over the threshold of the Throat, and we begin descending toward what appears to be a gathering of equines. Not just my queen, Sohalia, whose companion is leading me toward her, but three others. One her size, and two much, much smaller. I'm careful to land a small distance away to not disturb them. As I approach, I scent males: the larger equine, a stallion, and the two smaller forms - colts. I stop just a few feet away from them and bow my head to them as a whole, but remain tightlipped. If I say even a simple hello, who's to say everything else won't come spilling out after? I look to the colts and smile softly. The stallion, of course, is Gaucho. I haven't seen him in what feels like ages, and send a smile his direction as well. I thought I'd heard about Sohalia and Gaucho becoming - friendlier - and I see now that the rumor was true. These colts... Ah.. what a wonderful blessing. I feel a certain tension emanating from the adults, and instead of wishing congratulations, I can't help but want to ask what's wrong. They have not called me here for chatting and catching up - they must have need of a healer.
AND YOU DON'T WANT TO BE HERE IN THE FUTURE, SO YOU SAY THE PRESENT'S JUST A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION TO THE PAST.
His mother was beautiful. Of that, the little princeling was immediately aware. How could she not be, with the ethereal glow that surrounded her blurred figure, the ivory-hued pelt that faded to gentle grey at the edges? He blinked once, twice, three times - and slowly, she came into focus in his left eye. His right, though, remained cloudy, and though he could make out her general form, he could not define the delicate features of her face.
He looked to his father next, a strong, powerful presence that radiated strength. The colt was immediately transfixed, fascinated by the way his mere presence commanded attention. One day, he determined, he would be just like his father - tall and strong and proud. But for today, he would be content to simply be what he was: a young, fragile newborn with a great deal of concern for his brother.
A brother who still struggled to breathe. A brother with whom Ivezho had shared a womb, a life-before-life. A brother whom he felt, intimately, and knew almost as well as he currently knew himself. Ivezho leaned to the side, startled by the way the sand shifted beneath him as he moved, but reaching his tiny muzzle towards his brother's as though his expelled breath could be the gust of air to inflate his brother's lungs. Why weren't his mother and father doing anything? Didn't they know Rhoa was struggling?
Maybe the other mare could help. He looked her over shrewdly from his position on the ground, intrigued by the pattern of her coat. Later, he would know the markings to be the likeness of stars, but for now, he merely watched the way she twinkled in the day's light. She wasn't as purely lovely as his mother, but she had a certain beauty of her own, and he snorted again, demanding her attention, frustrated with how slow they all were.
The birth of their eldest daughter had been relatively easy, and she had been born healthy. Well, her body had the tendency to shock those around her, but Gaucho didn't consider that to be a fatal flaw in any way. As he moved closer to inspect the twins, he noticed that Rhoa wasn't the only one struggling - the eye of the second born seemed cloudy and dull. The WildFire snorted gently, lowering his bone-pierced muzzle to the pale gray creature and exhaling.
As Andromeda dropped from the sky, Gaucho's dark muzzle rose from the shoulder of Ivezho. He regarded the mare solemnly, saying nothing. He was surprised to learn that she had taken on the position of healer - she had been a warrior in the days when he had led the Throat, had been some what of a loner. Where as Onni? Tandavi? Well, it didn't matter. If she had learned the healing arts then so be it; she was here now.
The dun chuckled as Ivezho snorted impatiently at the star-strewn mare. He was a clever boy already. "Rhoa having trouble breathing. Help him." He demanded. His voice was stern, but gentle. Gaucho's stormy gaze moved from Ivezho to Rhoa, the darker of the two twins, whose ragged breathing was only slightly increasing. He didn't know what had caused the problems in the boys - perhaps it was simply a question of architecture. Sohalia's body was small, even when swollen with pregnancy. She had been monstrous when carrying Zeno, and had grown even larger (impossibly so) with the boys. Perhaps there was simply not enough space inside of her, for their bodies to develop easily.
Even so, the WildFire was not worried. The blood of kings ran through his veins, and into the bodies of the boys before him. They would grow strong and true. They just needed a little help now.
The dove was no stranger to birth, nor to death; but this struggle placing her firstborn son somewhere in between left her anxious. She had seen death come too soon for her parents, her siblings, her eldest daughter - but never had she watched them struggle, as though they were trying to decide if it was even worth it anymore. You haven't even lived yet, she thought with dismay, nickering deep in her throat with encouragement. "Leshitat," she whispered, nudging against Rhoa's tiny ribs again. "Thirat." And so the Transcended waited, praying for her healer to arrive before it was too late.
It was strange, the way she slipped in and out of her native tongue, picking and choosing whichever word came to her most quickly. The angel was a quick learner, and though she could not quite hold a conversation or form sentences in her lover's language, she found individual words to be a pleasure to learn and utilize. Particularly when he was around. Perhaps she merely wished to impress Gaucho, or perhaps she subconsciously wanted their sons to know his language; but either way, it was his language in which she begged her son to breathe, to live, to grow, to be strong.
When Andromeda arrived, she smiled tiredly, swaying slightly on her feet. In previous births, her children had struggled to their feet, had their first meal, and fallen into a weary slumber alongside her by now, and she was beginning to feel the effects of her exhaustion. Gaucho spoke before she could gather herself, and so she merely added to his demand a politeness and an identification: "Please. The darker one."
i walk in the air
between the rain
through myself
& back again.
Things feel a little better now. Not by much, but a little better. If I live, perhaps Ivezho will think that he was the one who saved me - his snorting life into my chest and all. Well, if you can call it that. He more or less huffed in my direciton. Still, if I live he can take all the credit that he wants.
Wearily, I try to open my eyes. All I can see is blackness, and for a moment I think that perhaps I haven't even opened my eyes at all. Quickly the blackness begins to race away from me - and I realize that it was Father's nose. If I had a nose that big, maybe I wouldn't have such a hard time breathing. But no..that isn't it. I can feel that the problem is inside of me somewhere.
Blink.
Now I see Mother, and boy, she sure is radiant. I am in love with her already, as all young boys are. She is perfect, and the others simply pale in comparison. For a moment the brilliance of her body is all I can see - No it is all I can see. The eges of my vision are swimming; things are going black. This time, it isn't because of Father's nose. Weakily I force my eyes towards Ivezho - and even though I've never seen him before, I know instantly that it's him. I want to say something - just so that he can hear my voice even just once, but I can't.
Blink.
This time I can't open my eyes again. It's too hard.
AND YOU DON'T WANT TO BE HERE IN THE FUTURE, SO YOU SAY THE PRESENT'S JUST A PLEASANT INTERRUPTION TO THE PAST.
His mother was speaking words that he did not understand. Language was so foreign to him, so far from his grasp at this stage of his life. He stared at his father and then his mother as their lips moved and sounds came out. What was that? What did it mean? Could he do that? He was surprised when his top lip lifted away from his teeth and he squealed, further startling himself, allowing his lip to flop back into its normal position. And so he discovered that he could, in fact, make noises.
His attention shifted then, as the attention of a foal is so wont to do, back to his brother, still and motionless on the ground. His left eye made out the crisp lines of his twin's face, the too-fast rise and fall of Rhoa's ribcage, so unlike the relatively calm, deep breaths of the lighter colt. But his right eye could only make out the shape, a dark lump on the sand, vaguely glowing with an orange-ish sort of glow. It was, as far as he was concerned, a mild annoyance, though as he began to grow older, it would surely grow into something he could not stand.
His father's approval was lost on the youngling, a fact that was both a blessing and a curse. He was too young to feel so intensely the need to please his father, too newly come to know the desire to bring his parents pride; but later, when he strove for their approval, he would miss the times when it was so easily given. But he didn't think of all that. His mind merely shifted between his brother's immobility and his own newfound freedom. Perhaps this was not The End after all.
The focus of the parents is very clearly on the darker foal, who Gaucho names Rhoa. For a moment I feel affronted that they really don't greet me, but instantly direct me to the foals. Really - do I not matter? But it's a silly, fleeting thought. Of course I matter, they want me here to help their child. I mean something even if it is just as a Sun Physician. I look to the darker foal.. Rhoa.. He's lying on his side, not moving except for the shallow rise and fall of his ribcage. I step slower and slowly, very easily, drop to my knees and lower my entire body to the ground. Whatever I'm going to do, it's very hard to reach the small thing while standing up. I run my muzzle gently over the infant's body, sniffing, as if it will help me diagnose the problem. But of course, how can I know what's wrong with him? I am not so magical that I am omniscient. All the same, it's clear that whatever his injury, it's internal, for I can see no wounds. His struggle is breathing, that much is clear. I turn my head around toward his and speak softly.
"Do not be afraid, child. I am going to blow into your nostrils. It may burn a little. Try to breathe normally." In my mind, I encourage him to be brave. He's the son of Gaucho and Sohalia - of course he'll be brave. I part my lips and exhale, a steamy heat coming out and into the nostrils of the little one. I hope that perhaps the heat can help expand his little lungs, and perhaps blow any obstructions out of the way. It may work, it may not - but at least I'm making the attempt, and it might help at least a little. I draw back, and watch to see if any differences are made. I glance up at the parents. "I can't promise anything will work." I don't want them to harbor any ill will if I fail.
i walk in the air
between the rain
through myself
& back again.
I feel vibrations - although of course I know actually know that word. What I feel is a distortion in the mechanics of my world. You must understand, that for someone who has only opened their eyes twice and has spent the rest of their living moments in the dark warmth of a womb, that any sort of new empirical evidence is rather shocking. And so, still very aware of many sensations that older beings have likely forgotten about, or blocked out, I panic. As Andromeda lays beside me, the ground moves. It doesn't just move, it shakes. The rhythm of her heart sounds like the after effect of a landslide (or at least, I might have thought it did were I to know what that looked or sounded like), and as she speaks, the words rustle the hairs in my ears like a breeze wafting across a fertile field. I want to open my eyes - to see if whatever death I am experiencing has a face, but alas, I still cannot.
I will die without even knowing what it looked like (as it certainly seems to me that death is a person).
Her breath fills my nostrils, and for a moment I'm fairly certain I'm choking. My small ears pin against my skull as my body without my consent, fights. My chest convulses as my lungs try to force the air out of my stomach, which in turn causes my body to inhale shakily, but strongly none the less. Air floods my lungs - half Andromeda half Dragon's Throat.
My tongue dances with the sensation of the desert upon it for the first time, and a coolness begins to waft through me as my body finally begins to accept oxygen regularly. The embers on the inside of my wings seem to crackle with this internal reaction taking place, causing the brilliant orangey-yellow glow to increase in magnitude.
I open one eye slowly, fixating it up Andromeda, who looks very big, and very purple. I want to see Ivzho and Mother and Father...but...
snort
I sneeze jerkily as I inhale sand. The force sends my tiny nose backwards rather comically, but I don't mind. It feels good for air to be going in and out of me the right way finally.
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