"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.
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
A gust of wind bursts forth from the south, filling the area in an intense stir for a moment. The tendrils of air seem to wrap around and around in one place for a moment, until a figure emerges from the whirlwinds.
Amid the sand and the dust surrounding the burning light of the Heart, a discarded body suddenly lies. The sunkissed girl glows with faint hints of life, the gift from the might lord of light reflected from every fiber of her pelt. Yet, pale eyelids remain closed, hiding the sky blue stones from peering out into the world. Heavy, shaking breaths wrack the chest where a once courageous heart beats slowly. Tinsel strands of blonde and white fan over the clay dusts, soaking in the orange colors and dirtying the pure white mask of the Illuminant's face. Weary, battered, tired, but most importantly ashamed.
Flitting about her dormant body is a small, tiny little finch painted with flecks of red and white, a creature by the name of Lyhty. His instant pecking and grooming of his fallen friend speaks volumes in the silence surrounding them, for Onni is too tired to speak, and Lyhty too solemn. Even now, with familiar sands caressing her fatigued body, the former shaman feels little but exhaustion. Physically, perhaps, she is just fine, but her mind chides her ceaselessly as the void between her and this former life grows more with each passing second.
Chasing the ghosts of your family, Onni, when will you learn? How many times must you wander, looking for the family that you lost? How many lives must you leave behind chasing your past before you finally learn?
Betrayed, abandoned, lost. Kri was her mother, but she left everything behind without warning, without explanation. Her father, the absent bastard that he was, never even paid her a second glance after the first weeks of her birth. Then, Voltaic, her true parent, slipped away through the cracks of her life, his life rushing faster onto the sands than her blessed magic could hold it in his body. What family did she have to return to now? The appearance of the shadow and the dead walking like tainted zombies around Helovia had scattered the herds. Had they even survived the long night after she had disappeared?
True to the examples she had been given, Onni the Illuminant abandoned her family here. At what price?
Now, more so than the day she was separated from Kri, more so than the last day she had seen Zodiac, more so than the day of Voltaic's death, she was a vagabond.
Perhaps the most keen injury to her spirit aside from the feeling of loneliness was the absence of the Sun. While it granted her light even in her travels, the pulsing power of healing light had disappeared from her body more the further she had strayed from Helovia. The shaman had hoped, prayed, that returning to these crimson sands would refill the void left behind by the absent magic. Instead of the fire filling her heart, the hole remained. Incomplete, imperfect, and foolish.
Chase one life, lose another. Onni learns now that chasing something often leads to you losing everything. The selfish choices we make, promises we break. They all catch up to us eventually.
Pale blue eyes open to view the reflections of the fire skitter across the sands and dried grass. Long, drawn breaths slowly return to normal. Wings begin to flutter and move, legs scrambling underneath the mass of painted white and chocolate. Once clean knees are now doused with orange as they rise from the desert floor. The Illuminant's head held low still as she folds her wings neatly. Relieved, Lyhty leaps from the ground and perches himself upon her neck, twiddling the strands of hair gently. The heaviest weight seems to rest upon her head as it lifts, ever so slowly.
Looking into the fires of the heart, the sky eyes wish for tears, but none will come. The loss is too great, the shock still holding her heart together. Even if Onni had wanted to shatter, she could not.
She hadn't the right to mourn her own poor decisions.
[ open for anyone || taking place outside of the caves o; ]
For some reason, it wasn't enough to rest in these lands; I had to see them, to give them a more thorough exploration than I had before. I told myself it was curiosity, and to an extent that was true. I had barely given Helovia a passing glance on my last tour, merely frowned upon it and found it wanting before taking my exit on an eastern wind. But something had changed, though I wasn't sure what- certainly, the presence of light in the sky and peace on the breeze gave this land appeal it had lacked on my last visit. Surely, I told myself, a brief respite could be extended. It wasn't like I had pledged myself to the place. I could leave when I wanted, would leave soon. Nothing tied me here.
Looking back, I understand my actions, fueled by deep seated bitterness though they were. The appeal of Helovia frightened me, the thought of meeting new people, of connecting... it was betrayal, in a way, the abandonment of all I had lost and left behind. The ghosts of my family still followed my trail. No home could replace the one I had, no face could fill the aching hole in my chest. I wouldn't let them come close enough to try. Why even bother? There was nobody who could possibly understand the loss I'd suffered, none who might look on me with anything but pity. Their smiles were reminders of who I was, their laughter taunting bulletins of who I'd never be.
In other words, I was a bitter old grump, and bullishly determined to remain so, thank you very much.
The air bit fiercely at my stony wings, and I relished the pain of it, beating harder and flying high. Though tired muscles ached beneath the weight of my feathers, I pushed myself harder, banking sharp turns and rising abruptly, forcing my body through a training regime. In the years of my exile I had pushed every tendon of my bulk to its limit, strained every ligament and felt aches in every bone. It was a powerful reminder of the fact that I was alive, the sacrifices made so I could feel this pain; it kept me in shape, honed muscle and mind.
As I reached the end of my aerial routine I fell into a sloping, maintained glide, lazily circling over dried grass and desert. I remembered this part of the land, though it looked different now, as though some part had been cloven away. Odd, but no odder than anything else. A fire burned bright in the center of it, and if I looked closely enough, I could make out the edges of what might be a figure at the rim of the pit. I frowned, pulling back, curiosity fighting an ever loosing battle against my misanthropic nature. Had I decided to leave a moment earlier, I might have simply flown away, ending this adventure as soon as it began.
But I lingered for that extra beat, and in that moment the distant figure rose, shook her wings, and sparked in me an ember of recognition as my mind provided a name which had not been far from my tongue. Onni.
It wasn't that I particularly liked the mare. She had been intrusive, unflapping cheerful, and convinced she knew more about my feelings than I possibly could. I had found her sunny disposition aggravating and her soft naivete moronic. Yet there was something in the light of her eyes, and the way she refused to let me escape... it was annoyingly captivating. Talking to her, I'd felt the closest to connection I had since... well.
I felt my wings fold, felt gravity gently pull on my body and felt myself reluctantly giving in. Hooves touched down behind her and some five lengths away- there was always a chance she didn't want me around, and I wasn't particularly interested in re-enacting our previously failed attempt at physical closeness. The fire played games on her silhouette, highlighting round haunches, the lines of her limbs. In another time my thoughts might have strayed somewhere scandalous and sweet, and the words from my lips might have dripped with warm honey.
"Onni." My voice sounded gruff even to me, worn down and damaged by severe lack of use. I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how tired I was, how unkept my mane and tail must be, how dusty my coat and how generally sweaty my entire body had become and how moronic I must generally be, having appeared out of nowhere after nearly a year and expecting some flicker of recognition in her eyes. I looked away from her, letting my gaze flick over the fire, mildly appalled by its perpetual nature. Nothing about fire appealed to me. It's destructive, consuming, murderous, and yet in that moment, I would much rather be looking at my age old enemy fire than into the judgmental blue eyes of the girl I'd so stupidly disturbed.
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
The sound of touchdown is distant, fleeting, and Onni does not turn her head in recognition. Her eyes are unblinking, unseeing, trapped in the dance of fire and light of the Heart. Inside, she prays the warmth will spread from her skin and fill her soul. The bleak empty feeling in her gut persists, she persists, still as a statue.
The little songbird upon her neck is not, however, and he turns a harsh eye to the stallion. Lyhty remembers this fool, who had been so brutish and brash to Onni. The mare smiled like the sun in the sky on summer days, yet the shadows of Eribor remained and even talked back. It was safe to say, the companion on the back of the disheartened mare did not like their new visitor. The deep, growl like noise of a chirp from his throat spoke of this. While Lyhty may not be able to give this pegasus a piece of his mind like he wanted to, the stone colored ass would at least realize one of them did not appreciate his company.
Onni.
One of the delicate ears twitches in the direction of her name, the scent of salt filling her lungs with sudden recognition. A male, familiar, and someone who apparently knew her name. A belabored turn of the head brings the light blue eys to rest upon those of gold and green. Perhaps on another day, she would have brightly smiled. Instead, from her still, taut face, a silent wail escapes through her eyes. "Hello, Eribor," she says, her voice light and quiet, barely breaking over the crackle of the fire and wind.
The Illuminant recalls their first meeting, where Eribor had sought shelter within the Throat. His sour disposition and general attitude had spoke of loss. Surely, now, he might understand that the brilliant glow of the sun hides much, but cannot always provide shelter for the broken hearted. "I am glad to see you well." It was true, for how many faces had she abandoned in the dark to quest for her mother? How many had she left to die, for a foolish search that came back with nothing but tales of empty skies?
I had forgotten about her little friend, but it was clear the vibrant buzzard remembered me. All my life I'd believed birds to be rather dim-witted creatures, incapable of thinking much further than the nearest source of seed. If the stream of what could only be described as avian curses pouring from Lythy's beak was any indicator, I was clearly much mistaken. From the mare's supple neck came two furious, beady eyes, black with rage and daring me to take another step. Brown brow furrowed- Don't worry, Beaky, your friend is safe.
It was a reminder of the mistake I'd made, how foolish I was to believe my presence could be welcomed, my lightless nature understood. The bird knew not why I was so morose, nor did he likely care. Just like everyone else. Gold-green eyes stared back at black, stubborn and unable to back down from a challenge, and I am not proud to admit that the wings on my back shuffled in an attempt to assert my dominance over a finch. Again, not my proudest moment.
For a moment I thought she would not turn around, that the bird spoke for Onni in making clear her deep disdain. Not surprising. She hadn't understood my the first time, and now I knew her smiles to be nothing but a mask for bemused resignation. But no, there was movement, the faintest flicker of an ivory ear and the beginnings of a bend beneath the fair blonde mane. A part of me considered flight, suddenly and stupidly unprepared to face her unending smile, her gentle yet incessant laugh. A bigger part scoffed in the face of my fear, wondering what my father would make of my cowardice, what my mother would say of my manners... I did not move, but tensed, bracing for her smile, or perhaps her rage.
I received neither.
Her voice was a whisper on the wind, a faint thing swallowed by fire and ash. But her eyes, those eyes... I had seen it before, that shattered look, the exhaustion which lined her pretty face. I saw it every time I took a drink; it was thrown in my face at every opportunity. It was my face, and in that moment I realized what an ass I'd been.
Onni didn't know what I had been through. She did not see the destruction of my home, did not hear me cry as I locked away the last of my gods. I had thought her blithe nature so very naive, her merry voice ignorant and young, but looking at her now I knew that I had not been fair. Something had happened, something horrendous, and I had no idea what it could possibly be. I was the outsider looking at someone else's grief, and in the face of it, I had no idea what to do.
I was beaten, dumbfounded, rendered useless by the sadness in her eyes.
"You as well," I responded mechanically, words easing from lips without much thought. My brain was frozen, as useless as the rest of me. I desperately wished I had just kept flying on, had never come back to this accursed land. My tongue, once ready with a smooth remark for every occasion, sat heavy and useless in my stubborn jaw. "You look ill."Yeah, smooth. Suave. Really comforting, Eribor. I closed my eyes, painfully aware of how stupid I was (still am. Some things don't change.) "What I mean to say is-" An effort to loosen my frown results in a grimace, an attempt at softness in tone just makes my voice fade. I was really on a roll. I settled at last for: "Are you alright?" then clamped shut my teeth before my tongue could dig me a deeper hole. Who'd have thought it would serve so well as a shovel? And for my own grave, no less!
I hated how badly I wanted to see that smile, to be reassured that it was all just exhaustion, that she really was fine. I didn't wish my sadness upon a single soul- and I really was not equipped to provide poor sweet Onni the support she seemed to need. I looked back at the bird, shuffling again. The last thing I needed was to have my eyes pecked out by a pile of homicidal feathers.
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
Lyhty's judgment still burst forward from his eyes, a vehemence unmatched. The possessive grip upon the mare's mane, the ruffling of his feathers, the finch defending the mare despite his tiny size. Love, entrenched so deeply in the miniature little bird, outweighed even the common sense that Eribor could crush his frail, hollow bones beneath a single hoof. Still, the fact the stallion felt the need to assert some sort of primal male dominance with his own display of feathers gave the songbird a marked satisfaction.
None of this reached the deafened mind of the painted mare, her wings drawn tight against her body, tendrils of her golden mane dancing absently against her skin. The expression on her face so bleak, empty, dramatically so. Perhaps, because the lines of her face were so acclimated to pulling into brilliant smiles the absence of happiness left impressioned holes. Weary, morose, but the empty expanse of her pale face only reaches these emotions through the thick lashes surrounding light colored oceans of melancholy.
Hopelessly, she stood before Eribor, who had undoubtedly expected a brilliant smile to greet him much like their last meeting.
The defiance present in his face upon their last meeting disappeared. Suddenly, as soon as her eyes felt for his, the motion of his body appeared as a corpse. Shocked, so very shocked, to find the golden girl's smile thrown away like trash, replaced with a blank expression and mournful eyes. There is recognition, somewhere, within earthen toned eyes, but Onni does not see it, feel it. The words which slip mechanically from Eribor's lips seem like a cruel joke in the darkened pit of her chest, as though she was well. Standing still witha fragile state of mind - the Illuminant might as well be nothing but a mere cur wishing to be kicked.
Lyhty chides her inwardly for the comment, but it's not heard. Only the deafening crackle of the fire which is absent in her soul. Only the mere glow of her luminescent coat speaking of her once favored position under the Sun. A traitor to his embrace, she might as well be outcast and forced to be reminded every waking moment that she once touched the light. What life have you now, Onni? What did you trade in for this reality?
There is little response to the statement "You look ill", for there was nothing incorrect about it. The mare felt she likely looked aged, tired, and meek. Certainly, within the chasms of her heart she felt sick, deathly ill. Loneliness had taken its toll. Guilt had shattered her hopes. Now, the gruff stallion stumbles for words to correct what may have been an insult to any other. Lyhty, certainly, was not pleased by his choice of wording. Onni just stands silently, listening to his voice break against her like waves against the shore. As for his question, she did not know how to answer.
Physically, she was fine. Tired from her long journey, but not unhealthy. Emotionally, she felt as though she had been thrown against every tree in Helovia, and into the Heart before her for good measure. No matter the case, the kindness natural within her soul could not let Eribor carry the weight of her problems. She had known upon their first meeting that this stallion carried around an unfortunate mountain himself. "Yes," she says simply, still quiet. "You needn't trouble yourself with a nosey mare."
The joke falls from her lips in a dead voice, but at least somewhere she remembered humor. In a few weeks, surely, the pain would subside. Surely, she would be just fine.
I watched Onni through careful eyes, searching for a sign that she was okay, merely tired or hungry or just having a bad day. A smile. A laugh. The flicker of life in those pale blue eyes- any sort of promise that I could leave, now, and be absolved of guilt.
I knew I wouldn't find it. I'd known since she'd turned around and I'd seen the harsh signs of devastation carved between laugh lines and faded scars. But I still searched, hoped, prayed to whichever of my gods I had not killed that I was not looking at a girl who'd suffered a level of agony equatable to my own. Selfishly, sure- I simply didn't want to deal with the sadness of a mare. But there were some valid arguments to be made in my defense. I barely had a handle on my own mental state. For over a year I had been comfortably marinating in my sorrow, soaking in the juice of misery without any real desire to emerge back into the world, hiding behind a wall of stone and not really caring about another soul. At that point in my life, I was capable of as much sympathy and support as a sapling. Onni deserved a tree.
I shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her words, not sure if the ashen comment was an attempt at humor or a deliberate jab. Had I really left so ill an impression? Probably, and I found that nearly as upsetting as the fact that I cared. Still, Onni had given me an out, claiming she was alright an dismissing my concern. It would be easy to turn and leave now, to catch a fair wind and leave this accursed place and its abundance of estrogen far behind. Onni didn't know what I had experienced, and when we met she had not cared to find out. This girl who insisted upon calling me 'brother' hadn't taken a moment to inquire why I did not smile. Not that I had wanted her to- but in my mind it was leverage, justification for committing a horrible sin. I did not own Onni my time, I reasoned. I could leave. There would be no crime.
I took a cautious step forward.
The distance between us felt so vast. So much time had passed since I had been close to someone; I did not really know how to begin. I wanted to tell her that it was alright, that I would understand- but would I? I did not know what hat broken her fragile soul. I thought I might ask her what had happened, but I doubted she would give an honest reply. Perhaps if I spoke of my own trials... but, I reasoned, she would not be interested in that information, and I was not prepared to give it yet. I was stalling, uncertain, and I could feel it beginning to show on my face, stony disinterest giving way to uncomfortable concern and morose resignation.
I settled for a lame attempt at a joke. "How could I help but trouble myself, when the nose is as fine as yours?" It sounded stupid in my own ears, a rusty reminder of a time when humor sprang ready to my tongue, when I could smooth over any problem with a charming smile and a debonair laugh. Left lip curled in a wan attempt to replicate that grin. I found the entire process painful, overall. It inspected too closely my own stubborn refusal to mend old wounds.
I took another careful step, hoping she would open herself back up, that she would heal and let me return to my isolation. I could not leave her alone with her pain. Even in my shattered state, I knew she did not deserve it. Nobody does, my mind confirmed.
At that point, of course, I was willfully oblivious to the irony in my words.
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
She had called him brother.
Not terribly long ago, Onni had stood on red stands, smiling at the earth painted stallion with stubborn cheerfulness. Despite his best efforts, Eribor simply could not have managed to rob the sunshine girl of her smile. The gruff exterior and borderline hostility of his words made the him like a stone, yet the former shaman had felt a delicate center underneath that facade. The memory felt so odd, so distant, foreign in her mind now, and reaching back to pull the line of "nosey mares" tugged oddly on her sense of self. The bright, shining mare felt like a stranger, while the cold, purposefully distant Eribor a friend.
Damage, how did it manifest? Did everyone cold and bitter close themselves off from the outside world? Was she expected to bend and fold, become a shadow in the lives of other's? Did she dare to fight against this reality?
Could someone glowing with the light of the sun ever truly be a shadow?
She wonders.
A cautious, small step is taken toward her, and the blue eyes watch with a quiet, resigned sadness. Inwardly, Onni wonders why he seems so afraid to get close. Maybe she was in danger of shattering if his breath landed upon her, but the mare thought she was not quite that fragile... not yet, anyway. His stony, emotionless face gives way to uncertainty, with a touch of odd concern. Out of place, for Onni had never seen the kaleidoscope of emotions dance across his features. To pull blood from stone, the Illuminant must be a miracle worker or truly pathetic in this moment.
The stallion matches her joke with one equally as bad, and Onni's eyes fall to the dirt. One shining emerald hoof draws nearer, while the charcoaled ones dance along behind it. The distance remained, eerie and quiet between them. An island amid the ocean, the physical space between Eribor and Onni did not make a difference. The space is closing by work of the bright emerald, brushing the dead clay. The cloud of sand dancing into the air; the wind catching the dust, sending it sailing to distant places. Inside, something shifts. Lyhty coos with sudden, alert concern.
Upon the sand, a tear from Onni's ocean eyes splits into pieces.
"I always find myself standing alone," she says, hushed and heavy. "Why? How do I always find myself here, forsaken?" As if she never truly touched anything in the world. As if everything was ephemeral, fleeting, racing away as fast as it rushed through your life. A heavy, wracked breath escapes the chambers of her lungs, head tilting away to avoid the shameful look of grief upon her face. Onni did not deserve to feel sorry for herself; after all, she had left on her own accord. It is no wonder the only one here waiting when she returned was a boulder atop a distant mountain.
For all the lives she saved, all the bones mended, all the smiles given. This is what she had to show for it.
My painful joke does nothing but make her look away, and I silently groan to the transient dirt which rises in waves from the force of my hooves. It has life so easy, dirt and sand: nobody expects the earth to care, nobody asks it for sympathy or forces guilt upon it when it doesn't oblige. It has no feeling of remorse, no terror of loss; it floats on the wind and falls to the ground, waiting for seedlings to sprout in its midst. The dirt will still be when the tall trees collapse, and no one shall blame it for causing the death.
There is no cure for the void between us. This is what I'd concluded even before I lessened the space, even before I saw her again. It was a destined outcome before we even met, because I was unwilling to let someone come close. Sure, I could offer myself on a bright silver plate, promise a shoulder and a sympathetic ear, but ultimately? There was nothing quite genuine in my regard, no no-strings-attached offer I could possibly make. The strings were there, waiting to be pulled, and soon I would have no choice but to yank them and draw back inside of myself.
Until then I could only hope to fool her, to make her believe I could actually care.
(and fool myself, of course, into believing I didn't)
For a minute I thought she might simply leave- or worse, that the silence would be my burden to fill. What was I to tell her? That it would be alright? That was a lie, which I'm sure she already knew. That I understood? I didn't even know that there was something to understand. That she needed to man up, and move on? Yes, because I was such a shining example of managing to move on. In an old world I might try to cure her with kisses, but this was a new land, and I a new me. Not for the first time I wondered why I was here. Not for the last time I was tempted to leave.
When she finally spoke her words were like gossamer spun upon the wind, sharp and surprising enough to cut through my skin, and like a coward I looked anywhere but at her face. The sand was a crater where her tear struck it down; I stared at it, wondering at the force sorrow can have, wondering at what else I wouldn't have guessed, what assumptions I'd made based on smiles and and lies. I always find myself standing alone... I had been alone for years, but at least I had the memory of family, of love, of belonging and joy to keep me alive. The thought that this girl might have none of those, yet still be able to call me brother with such sweet notes in her throat. And here I was, planning how soon I might escape.
I was a monster. She deserved so much more.
"We bring loneliness upon ourselves." It's blunt, and it's useless, but it's honest and it's what she deserves. My voice still crunched like gravel underfoot, ill-used and unkind but not heartless, not cruel. Resignation had written itself on my face, mixed with the edges of something soft, an empathy brought on by shared experience and not a good heart. "But... rarely are we as alone as we think."For instance, I'm here.
I don't mean to do it. The motion's unplanned. Looking back I know what possessed me, but at the time I did not. All I knew is that one moment I was looking at that sweet, pretty face, with the stain of a tear track and pain breaking blue eyes, and the next there was sand in a cloud by my legs, and my body had moved, and gently, so gently, I had reached out my nose to find the warmth of her cheek, intending to place there the briefest of touches, as though somehow through contact I could take on her burden and add it to my own, prove once and for all that she was not alone.
09-14-2014, 09:38 PM (This post was last modified: 09-14-2014, 09:39 PM by Onni.)
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
We bring loneliness upon ourselves.
Onni resists the urge to sob at the thought, for he spares none of her feelings in stating the truth. As if he saw through this act of sorrow like a poorly acted ruse, knowing that it is her fault she stands alone on the sands. As much as the Illuminant would pin this crushing feeling on anyone else, the knife being twisted in her heart had been beckoned by her own actions. There is a silent desperation in her stance, a choking breath caught in her throat, the crushing weight of her own actions upon her shoulders. You left them, she thinks. You have no right to be sad. No matter who had left Onni first, she still abandoned what family existed here in Helovia. Left them to rot with the dead.
All of the faces of her friends, the ones she had kept safe for years. The brilliant sun rising over the orange and crimson sands - the sky painted in a myriad of pastel hues before giving way to the ocean of the sky. The lake... the lake which reminded her so much of the Islands where Voltaic had reigned. Every splash of the surface reflecting the bright yellow lining his feathers. The wind, which rushed over the dunes and danced with the dust, forming memories of her mother even in the absence of the Resolute. The clouds which slowly pulled across the horizon playfully reminding her of the feathered, teal toned stallion named Moth. The extraordinary flowers he had lain at her hooves. Then, she had dreamed to know the meaning of love, of family, only to have each leave her.
The solace and warm touch of the sun now lost from her heart, though still radiating from her coat, was the final blow. Without the favor of the God of Fire and Light, what made her special? What would make people seek her, if not the gift of life which she called upon? Onni had nothing to offer - the muscle of her military training gone, her gift of healing thrown away. Alone, so terribly alone.
She had chosen this fate.
Yet, the shrieking in her heart reaches for the Sun, only to find it unresponsive.
Rarely are we as alone as we think.
Turning her pale face toward him, the glistening eyes of sorrow hold a question, unspoken, unable to find the will to ask if Eribor was offering his company in stead of all she had lost. As if he had read the question within her gaze, his muzzle reaches out to briefly touch the tear and dust staied cheek with infinite softness. Blue eyes widen in surprise, as though a statue had been animated to touch her, seeing the emotion softening the edges of the gruff features. The grumpy stallion she had met in the Throat throwing away his reservations, breaking all the walls she had seen that day, in an attempt to comfort her. Lyhty's chirps of protest do not register, for only one thought holds in her mind.
Perhaps, if she could no longer hold the warmth of the Sun, she could find comfort in the steady Earth.
Onni looks to the green emerald of his hoof, her voice soft but warm. "Will you stay for a while, Eribor?" Through thick white lashes, the girl peers up at his face cautiously. "Please?"
I had expected something extreme. Mares here always seemed to be acting in extremes, loudly and confidently asserting their superiority and vast knowledge, or their foolish goodwill, or their petty and ugly hatred for one another. In the moments after my unexplained attempt at comfort and Onni's response, my mind ran rampant with anticipated responses. Crying seemed most likely, some utter breakdown and the need to voice her pain. I could already envision her explosion of emotion, the story pouring out between sobs- The unicorns came back! My family is gone! I didn't fight, I ran like a coward, and now I have nobody left... It sounded suspiciously like my own.
The other likely option, I reasoned, was anger or disgust. This I would have been more comfortable with, for this would have been a stallion's reaction. After all, it was her pain- what kind of moron did I think I was, to try and help? We weren't friends, and I didn't really know anything about what she'd been through. How self-centered was I to think I could possibly understand? These words and more seemed plausible to fall from her soft pink lips, though the more I thought about it, the more the possibility waned. Onni hadn't shown any aggression toward me yet. It was unlikely she'd begin now.
Of course, there was the ideal option, the one where somehow through the magic of friendship I could alleviate the pain in her heart, inspiring her to smile, laugh, and simply... fly away. Really, any scenario which involved one of us leaving seemed pretty appealing at that point.
But no. No, it was not to be, and I shifted stiffly as the girl looked down, wings stretching uneasily against my grey hide. It had been a mistake to come here at all. She had given me an out, and really, it was my own damn fault for not taking it. Would she cry? I didn't think I could handle that. A frown creased the edges of my eyes and my ears turned away, spinning back quickly to catch her soft words. Stay, she asked, in that sweetest of voices. Please.
I wanted to groan. No good deed goes unpunished. But of course, the anger died in my throat, shifting and drying into sour ash. I looked down at her, and saw those damn blue eyes peering back at me, and there was no way I could deny her, no world in which I could be so cruel. She was almost a memory, yet firmly a mystery; so sweet, so pretty, so damned inconvenient when all I ever wanted was to quietly brood. Some day I would be glad that I let those eyes convince me. Maybe part of me was a little bit glad then.
I did not step forward to touch her again, but I softened, relaxing, trying to push some semblance of ease into my uneasy form. "As long as you like." My voice wasn't sweet, per se, but not angry either... it was mine, and it was a promise, a pledge made by soldier to maid. Almost imperceptibly, I felt my heart lighten, the heavy deadness showing an unexpected flicker, a memory of life. It felt good to have a cause again, even if that cause was something as menial as helping a pretty girl remember how to smile.
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
He remains silent for what feels like ages.
Onni's soft eyes watch him with a quiet intensity, clinging to the hope that he too would not abandon her. So strange, how someone that the mare hardly knew could become such an important part of her world in this moment. Small, simple conversations bringing them together. Now, fate brought this moving statue into her life. Eribor, despite all of his apparent bad qualities, had a softer personality than even Onni expected. Had she not been so consumed with her own misery, the painted mare might have wondered what changed him into the hard-faced, sour tongued stallion she met in the throat.
Looking toward him now, her blue eyes wet with the single tears that had fallen to the earth, pale face full of expectation and hope amid the sadness. For the silence, her heart seemed to halt, her breath calm and quiet.
Then, he wavered. Like rocks falling from a mountain slide, the unapproachable Eribor yielded. The edges of his expression softened, and before his mouth even opened, the painted girl knew. He would stay, at least for now. Onni's lips turn up into a melancholy smile. His words reach her easily, settling around her chest and making her feel less suffocated. Just the promise of his company, for this short period of time, was enough to alleviate the crushing feeling of loneliness. The mare had no intentions of sharing her life story with him, no intention of breaching his comfort zone. "Thank you," she says simply, like an exhale.
Wings slump from her back toward the red clay, finally finding relaxation. Lyhty, who had been relatively silent in the past few moments, hops down toward her withers and glares menacingly at Eribor, while twiddling with the small feathers of her wing joint. Slowly, she moves her eyes from his face, suddenly feeling self-conscious and aware of how foolish she must seem. Eribor must find her childish and inane, needing a stranger to keep her company. Thinking back to his description of mares, it was more likely than the alternatives. Crying, whining, and begging for him to stay - a selfish, cowardly soul.
Her eyes seek retreat in the flames of the Heart. Embarrassed and afraid to say anything, else he would fly away and leave her alone.
The minute the promise left my lips, I realized how moronic I had been. What in Earth's name did I think I was doing, promising a sweet and sad mare that I would stay with her? I, who was no doubt the least qualified stallion to put someone else at ease? I had my own problems- why did I feel this bothersome need to take on hers? Oh, I was an idiot to be sure, still too attached to youthful habits to think through my words before I spoke, but she was so soft, and shattered and sweet.
Just try and tell me you could have resisted that soft blue gaze.
The relief in her eyes was palpable, the innocence of her voice a dagger in my chest. Idiot, I quietly cursed, grateful for how little emotion my face betrayed. I hoped, then, that she would say more, although why I expected it is far beyond me. But I wished, and I waited for her voice to fall, for the outpouring of whatever troubled her into my patiently front-facing ears. Maybe once she got it off her chest, she would realize she was being silly, that it would all be okay, and that somewhere someone who loved her was waiting to stand by her side. (I had no doubt that somebody loved her, that some poor stallion was missing her desperately just then. Or mare. I wouldn't judge.)
But when the silence continued, I knew she was not prepared to speak. Instead she turned away from me, though the glare of the songbird did not cool, his beedy-eyed hatred clear on that smug face. I wanted to glower back at him - clearly I wasn't going to hurt his precious friend! - but the thought of her seeing me saved me that shame. The girl shifted slowly, her hips a smooth sway, and for an instant I thought she might just fly away. Perhaps she had thought better of keeping the company of Eribor, He Of His Own Problems, Grump Extraordinaire, but no, she did not fly away. She simply stared into the fire, the fire I hated and wished to leave behind.
More silence, more nothing; I grew anxious then, emerald hoof pawing distastefully at the ground. It was a bad habit, one my mother had tried to wean out of me, one which had grown worse in the time since her.... loss. Would Onni say anything? I was growing weary of standing near flame, uncomfortable with the memories it threatened to illuminate. Carefully I cleared my throat, staring to the west, away from the Heart. "Is there somewhere you wanted to go?" It seemed safe enough. Surely there was somewhere better for her than here. Back to the Throat and her family, for instance. Gruffly I continued, "I would take you. If you like."Because that doesn't sound dirty. I resisted the urge to cringe at myself.
"I find it often unwise to linger near fire," I added, trying to detract from the coltish thoughts frolicking like mayflies through my mind. I could only imagine what the songbird would do, if he knew of the way I'd (briefly!) considered his friend.
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
The silence took sweet time to pass, for the blushing girl and stubborn boy were both not likely to give the first words.
Soft, pale eyes watch the fires quietly, though ears are pinned upon the body of Eribor. The nervous clawing of the earth, the light breath escaping his lungs. Just hearing his presence was enough to comfort the aching heart of Onni, who almost expected the stallion to forget his words and abandon her the moment her eyes released their hold upon his flesh. Selfish as her act may have been, the Illuminant takes comfort in the quiet company that Eribor relinquished to her. Had she the strength to give, the pegasus would offer a favor in return. Maybe, should the flames of the heart mend her own along with the silent Eribor, then Onni would offer. There is nothing she can give except the promise of friendship.
She doubted he would want that.
Ears perk to capture the rumblings of his throat, knowing he would speak. Sheepishly, her bald face is turned toward his. Sky eyes note the distance he places in his own, peering off into a distant horizon. Surely, he had realized how silly it had been to stand at her side now. Too uncomfortable to even look her in the face, Onni expected harsh words of rejection and a swift exit. Her eyes widen with shock as he offers her more in exchange for the silence she had given him. All the stony expressions, the hard and gruff attitude - were they all a lie? Standing just a few breaths away from him, the warmth of his heart can be felt upon her cold skin. What had turned this beautiful heart to stone? She dare not ask.
"I am fine here," she says, her voice quiet.
I find it unwise to linger near fire.
Taken aback, Onni takes steps away, turning her back toward the fire to look upon Eribor's face more clearly. His golden and green eyes are just as distant, as if they are trying to shake away memories and thoughts, but the Illuminant would never correctly guess the kind. Instead, she looks upon this new found friend harshly rebuking the fire in such a casual manner. Off hand, as if he did not even consider who he spoke to. How could he know of her faith and love in the Sun's warmth, his blessed fire which had healed so many wounds? Her expression turns cold, and strength returns to her heart to defend the God she had forsaken.
She could leave him, but he would never leave her soul.
With a strong voice, calm and even, Onni's eyes staring heavily in the direction of Eribor. "Only when you leave the side of the fire do you notice the warmth it freely gives. The world is cold without its embrace." Shamefully, her eyes drop back to the floor, the passion of her heart once more crushed by her own stupidity. How could she leave the land of the Sun for a bleak, empty future?
"Do you hate it so?" she asks, eyes lingering on the emerald hoof.
That seems melodramatic, but it's somehow true: Onni's very presence was warming, a muted ray of sunlight on the black tree of my heart. Somehow I was unfurling despite my inhibitions, thawing despite the winter frost which for so long held fast to every fiber of my being. Somehow her pain gave me purpose. Even with storms in her pale blue eyes, the girl was heat on a winter day. I hated what she was doing to me. I hated myself for not just flying away. Why didn't I fly away?
Her movement drew my attention back from distant memories and shattered pain. I watched her diminish, stepping away and drawing closed, no longer close enough to casually touch. A part of me was glad. I did not like what she had done to my resolve, the arrow of her sorrow which pierced my carefully laid grumpiness. Finally, maybe, she would go away, would realize what a glorious mistake it was to seek a friend in me. I still had no idea what had happened to her, but I was obviously the wrong person to deal with it. I had my own problems. I had my own pain.
What had I said to set her off, anyway? Had my desire to leave been too much for her? I did not like fire. I did not like the way it danced, taunting me with its burning fingers, laughing and teasing with memories of broken families and empty dreams. Or had she caught wind of my straying mind, finally realized I was a strange stallion inexplicably aiding a very pretty, very vulnerable mare? Had her bird at last convinced her I was trouble? I frowned, uncomfortable with this idea, and snorted softly.
Green gaze drifted across her face, tracing the ugly scar on her delicate features, pausing in alarm as they reached her eyes. What I saw there, I did not expect and could not quite name. Anger? Hatred? Something cold. Something hard. Something quite unlike the vulnerable child of minutes before. Whatever I had done, it must have been monumental to deserve such scorn from the gentle girl. My frown deepened; one ear turned back, settling against a tight cropped mane. The other stayed on her, catching her outburst with a hint of disbelief.
All this emotion, in defense of fire?
"Yes." It was gruffer than intended, angrier, but I didn't especially care. I spend my time trying to help her, put myself ill at ease, and what do I get in return? A scowl painted the edge of my eyes, tugging at lips and flaring nostrils in dislike. Enough. Enough. I hadn't questioned her quirks, her stupid little pity party, and this was the gratitude I got in response?
I knew I was being childish, stubborn, using this as a way to hide from caring. I didn't hate fire, not exactly; I simply felt no love for the stuff. I thought I might say this, this and a million other things, but I also thought she didn't deserve to know. I wanted to leave.
But I stayed, because I had promised, to her and myself. Two tone eyes rested on the crest of her poll. Absently I wondered why she cared, and if the answer held the key to unlocking her mystery, and then I reminded myself that it didn't matter anyway, because I didn't want to know. Wings shifted against a stony hide; I wanted to see those pretty blue eyes, to wipe the unhappiness from her innocent face, but I could feel myself shutting back down, recoiling into a fortress of stone. Maybe it would be better that way, I reasoned. After all, it's not like I really cared about her. In the long run.
Onni the Illuminant</style> a heart which beats beneath these ashes.</style>
The snap of his voice is harsh. Onni flinches despite the lack of physical assault, and upon her back, Lyhty screeches in protest. Tiny wings take to flight, bringing the songbird into the air with rapid movement.
While he had remained silent during the growing tension between the pair, no one spoke to his bonded in such a manner. The crimson dappled finch soars toward Eribor's face, murderous intent in his beaded eyes. A tiny beak reaches out for supple skin to prod the stallion with likely ineffective strength before dipping away, hovering and still yelling. How dare he? Lyhty thinks suddenly, in their shared mind, and the Illuminant tiredly raises a wing, an elegant scooping motion to corrale her little friend toward her side. "Lyhty, enough."
Her voice gentle, tone flat.
She is tired, too tired to argue with him. Even should they engage in such, Onni knew that Eribor was not likely to change his mind. The grit of his voice flooded her soul in just one simply word. The strength of his hate forcing such anger from his lips.
Light blue eyes do not look up to see the boy returned to stone. Instead, her pale face turns toward the fire. Eribor had promised her company, and despite the discomfort he felt, the anger brought on by her defense of the flames, he remained. Selfishly, she stood, glancing toward the glowing show as the tongues licked at the earth. Quietly, the mare considers. Could she turn away from the warmth and comfort of the Sun, embrace the fact that Eribor resented the heart of her world? Would she turn from her God to appease a friend? Was he a friend?
Dumbly, Onni wrestles with her own thoughts and ideas before settling on the obvious choice. There is no stability the earth can provide that would outweigh even the briefest touches of the Sun.
"Forgive me for keeping you, then," she whispers, her voice quaking as her sky eyes clutch the flames for security, for stability, for anything. "You should not stay."
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