Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
| Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire
Heather |
10-05-2014, 11:36 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-05-2014, 11:37 AM by Lena.)
Sometimes, amidst the hallowed evenings and the crisp, chilling mornings, the songbird wondered how selfish she was.
While at times altruistic and self-sacrificing, generous and compassionate, there were the moments of utter violence and villainy that crept into her soul, that warbled throughout her heart, that scarred and scratched against the bounty of her chest until all at once she was as demonic as the rest of her herd. Daring, audacious, and ruthless when the world came to counter her empire, she was also rendered without sublime tactics to combat them: in some other otherworldly void, she’d managed to always throw her own companion into the fray. Imogen never complained, and seemed to almost harbor, possess, a great will to rip, maim, sear and scorch, but the notion of her little frame flying through the air as attack after attack was launched upon the pale form, as palisades came crashing to their feet and monsters roared in voracious hunger, repelled the nymph, hurt and shattered her magnanimous qualities. Who was she to yearn a friend, a partner, a bonded, for one more assailment, for one more reeling inferno, when she herself had naught to bestow but the kindly bombardments of song, of instances and junctures to assuage, to soothe, to stitch lacerations and heal wounds? And what of her sovereign, her family, her brethren? Didn’t they deserve a mender who could wield more than just hours, stretches of time, and beautiful arias? The struggle, the war, between herself was immense, and for seasons, for cycles, she’d stretched out the queries, she’d quietly muddled over the fruit of her anguish, she’d been humbled and rendered foolish, ignorant, akin to bliss without being able to protect or fulfill the sanctions of her comrades. She always fought, always tried to prevail, but never reached beyond the finesse of her potential, too demure to outright domination and power. Instead, the sylph grinned, bore the great weight across her shoulders, and pretended – held her beatific veneer aloft for all to see.
At a crossroads, Lena stared into the heavenly sky, roamed amidst the billowing fog, and wondered if her actions were right. Was she wandering down the correct path? Would the clouds open up beneath her and consume her for her sudden, indulgent qualities? Would the shadows beseech and seize her only virtues, summon her into their underworld covenants? Would she regret the choice, the decision she was about to make? Would it all be worth it? What if there were no more wars, no more invasions, or no more campaigns (a notion quickly dashed; she knew her world too well, and even she was not so inane as to believe the realm was composed of sunshine and rainbows, she’d seen too many things and participated amongst the haunting tapestries)? Could she still foster good will while contemplating the arts, the magic, the enchantments she sought? Would it make her dangerous, toxic, treacherous, when all she wanted to do was find and seek another way, another venue, another method, to defend those she cherished?
She sighed, stilled, breathed deeply into the consecrated, sanctified sector. Once, she’d begged, yearned, and asked for invocations from the Sun God – and he’d granted her wish. Here she’d come again, into their home of repose, to appeal and bid for a more sinister aspect of her ballads: to entreat them with the qualities of distortion and the abysmal flames. Perhaps he, strong, intrepid, and assured, would refuse her altogether, too aware of the price she’d have to pay, proclaim she was not deserving of his power, or knew of some foretold, augured sway in which she’d have no inclination to wield the chosen weapons. Or maybe he’d embolden her all the more, and she’d chase after the wayward dream as she’d done with so many before: pursuing aspirations, hopes, and motivations through the sectors and sanctions of life. Like a bell, like a carol, like a sienna muse, she plucked the strings of her vocals and listened to the mellifluous hum, bore a heavy tenor to her soul, and bowed into the merciless incantations of the Gods and their schemes. Imogen remained close at hand, curious and speculative herself, an assuring beacon when all designs became frozen amidst the nefarious hands of nerves and apprehension, begging not to err, desperate not to make a mistake. She bellowed a righteous hymn, and allowed it to flicker across the crackling clouds and the midnight plumage, attempting to cover up the bites of shame lilting into her serenade. “Illustrious Sun God, I’ve come to request another favor.”
[Turning in Lena’s VOTG pass to receive her requested magic:
Active Magic :: [Fire | The ability to sing and summon fire. Can injure others/set surroundings aflame. Would have to use different tones from her healing songs. ]
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Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>
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image by safetylast @ flickr.com
| Helovian Ancient |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17 hh :: Ageless |
| Admin |
The GOD of the SUN
Burn the whole world down
|
The God of the Sun appeared in a flaming blaze of glory. Where one moment there was nothing and no one, a flickering, burning void opened in midair, a view into the land of the Sun. The opening yawned wider as the God extracted himself, bringing with him a wave of heat and light; then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the window into his world closed again, leaving the golden god glowing before the girl and her kitsune. He surely seemed immense, though he stood only a few hands taller than the songstress; his presence was massive, commanding, intimidating - just the way he liked it.
He knew this girl, the unicorn Lena. It was a vague memory, yet he did indeed recall her previous request - and here she was again, a mare of his brother's northern herd, arriving once more to request the Sun's presence, the Sun's assistance. He peered at her, snorting softly before he spoke: "You are wasted in my brother's land, you know. With your magic, you're much more suited to the Dragon's Throat." But it was distant, flippant, a simple observation thrown to the wind in lieu of anything particularly meaningful. He didn't particularly care where the girl resided - but her repeated appearance before his light pleased him nonetheless.
He gave little thought to her origins beyond that, instead focusing shrewdly on her request. "My sister would say that you mortals request favors far too often," he told her gruffly. "But I suppose I shall hear your request before turning you away. What is it, then? What do you seek this time?"
"blah blah blah."
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CREDITS
Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
| Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire
Heather |
The waiting time was harsh, for more than once she kindled and rekindled the altering calamity bolstered and harpooned into her soul: reality struck, for no matter how many times she plucked the strings of divinity or courted the hands of virtue, she was still as mercenary as the rest of the world. A few scandalous moments struck where she considered turning back, offering her immolations and prayers, then leaving them on the doorstep, to become a shrinking idol in the deity’s courtyard, but then his appearance blinded her, scorched her eyes, magnified the fluttering heart in her chest, and it was too late to back away from the challenge she’d given herself. She closed her gaze to the unwinding sun, felt unworthy over and over again in his presence, asking, yearning, bidding for something when she’d already received his blessing before – maybe it was too much, and he wouldn’t listen to her pleas. Perhaps he would shun her away, force her into the miserable brine or drop her off the clouds, and she kept bowing, for fear, for apprehension, for all the pathetic nuances circling around her mind. Was it a mistake, to want to cherish and protect one’s herd, to grasp hold of ways to touch, to taste, to relish, the sullen vows of violence, to ensure another didn’t have to do the same? He snorted and she flinched, suddenly losing her courage in the tiding of minutes, pondering if she were to become the shaking, unnerved leaf, cast off into the wind and forced to find something else to hold onto. Instead of being tossed amongst the gallows, however, he spoke, rigid, impertinent towards her choices, and she almost laughed, bemused by the notion of her fighting and healing for the Throat instead of the treacherous, beautiful Basin. Her heart had long since been enticed by icicles and aurora skylines, glacial palisades and snowflake interludes; seduced and spellbound, she was as much a chiseled portion of the Basin as the soldiers, the sleuths, the emissaries. In some fashion, in some sway, the idea, the sentiment, appeared to heighten, brew, blossom her bravery once more, and she lifted her head towards the wonder of the God, and smiled. He’d given her another thing, pluck, daring, audacity, the mighty roar of a building inferno, and she suddenly trusted her choice, her decision. The nymph would likely forever be beholden for his zealous, ardent tides, the brilliant conflagration, the bursting defiance; it offered intrepidity when she thought it lost. She too could grow like a fire, twisting and gilded, effervescent and coiled, a spring, a blaze.
“Your sister is probably correct.” She bowed once more, for the sylph knew the claws of selfishness, felt it claw down her throat and over her lungs, but pressed on in the lilt, the harmony, of her aria, beckoning for the salutations of valor to prick and scald her spine as she raised her sienna gaze back upon the enduring flame. “I come to you because I know of your strength, of your abilities. You’ve granted me a capacity to heal my herd, my friends, my allies, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful.” She paused, reflecting in her absolution, in her gift, to the masses. Even while she carried his brother’s powers of time, even while she wove strands of his feathers in her mane and listened to them sizzle, crack, and spark, she would always be indebted, appreciate, of her first ability to mend, given and bestowed upon by the holy being before her. “Now, I wish to wield it to protect others. Is there any way to alter my songs to also brandish fire?” One magic to mend, and another one magic to seize, possess, and violate, all with tunes, tones, and melody.
[Turning in Lena’s VOTG pass to receive her requested magic:
Active Magic :: [Fire | The ability to sing and summon fire. Can injure others/set surroundings aflame. Would have to use different tones from her healing songs. ]
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Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>
|
image by safetylast @ flickr.com
| Helovian Ancient |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17 hh :: Ageless |
| Admin |
The GOD of the SUN
Burn the whole world down
|
"Your sister is probably correct," the girl said, bowing; but what an illusion it was, her deference a mask for a bright inner fire. Again he lamented his loss of such a flame to his brother's icy northern lands, his lips twisting in a wry grin. Of course, if she were meek and timid, she would not have been able to capture his sudden interest. The God of the Sun was not one for suffering fools or cowards, would not have given them the time of day, much less appeared before them in a blaze of glory.
Her eyes rose again to meet his, and he watched with a vague amusement as she voiced first her thanks - as it should be, of course, seeing as he was the one with the power to grant her favor or destroy his prior gifts. So many mortals forgot their place, these days; it had been so long since the gods had truly shown their power that some Helovians thought themselves equal - or, laughably, better than - their deities. Or so he had heard. But Lena was not like that, and as she finally voiced her request, he continued to gaze at her, displaying no emotion.
It seemed that healing was no longer enough for her; for she yearned not only to cure her friends' ills, but also to prevent them from occurring in the first place. And her chosen way of doing that was not one he would have thought her to ask for; she asking for the ability to protect by force, using none other than his own flames. To think of gentle Lena brandishing fire against her enemies was strange and foreign, for he had previously doubted that she had a fighting bone in her body.
But no matter. He did not claim to keep very good track of the mortals and their many personalities.
"A song of fire would indeed be a sight to behold," he mused nonchalantly. "But have you not heard that those who play with fire get burned?" His voice turned stern. "You ask to wield flame, but have you ever experienced its kiss?" He shook his head. "Before I can grant your request, you must feel what you would bestow upon others. I suggest you have a healer handy - unless, of course, you can heal yourself."
"blah blah blah."
[[Lena must ask someone to burn her with magic. She must then heal herself and return to the Veins or the Caela Insula to seek out the God of the Sun.]]
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CREDITS
Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
| Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire
Heather |
Fair, upright, and nonpartisan, a pariah’s fallen whims and a capricious soul’s delight, festered and brewing in the murmuring genesis of fire and brimstone; she’d have her burning muse, but at a price. The deity’s command was almost expected: the Songbird would not be allowed her fiery tunes, her blazing whims, without the magnificence of its pain, its fury, its burning crescendo. Infernos for infernos, a hissing trade, a cinder quest already cascaded and entrenched with the zealous, ardent, explosion of passion and retribution, and she could admit it was rightfully so. In order to commit to the kindled violence, the ignited security and shelter of her comrades, she’d have to undergo the same pinnacles: scars, lesions, marks, and stigmata of the courageous, of the effervescent. She’d wreaked havoc while defending her people, while persecuting the unjust, the cruel, the callous, had squandered, stumbled, and fumbled in the merciless pits of prowess, had been torn and shambled into confusion and unrest, contributed, recognized, the loathing bridges of battle and lacerations. But she’d also shuddered, screamed, screeched when her body had been battered, bruised, when Imogen had cast her violent shades and been lost into the murky mist, altered, changed, morphed, and transformed when the bestial ruins shackled and chained her – poising her into beasts and vermin, composing her frame into formations she’d never thought of possessing. She never truly yearned to court agony, misery, upon herself or others, but shelter, sanctuary, meant constant sacrifices, and their kingdom had made enough (and in the back of her mind, a prickle of anxiety, a series of apprehensive coils down her spine, a ripple-effect of portended torture, augured inflictions) – she was fully capable of one more instance. Courageous, intrepid, lionhearted floweret, blossoming swallow, opened up her wings and stared into the conflagration, dreamt of days where her arts were invoked, incised, into the parallel streaks of embers, flickering into ash and coal, awarded another trial to combust within. Not marked or misguided down the streets and cities of delusion, her gaze rested on his intense, igneous wake, and accepted the campaign; dulcet clamors not revealing the fears gripping and grappling for her heart, a mellifluous shudder, a harmonic whisper. “I accept your proposal, and shall return when it’s completed.” A dainty smile hid the blossoming petals of alarm and consternation, a swift turn, one last bow, and she flowed into the heavenly bounty, feeling less holy by the moment.
[Turning in Lena’s VOTG pass to receive her requested magic:
Active Magic :: [Fire | The ability to sing and summon fire. Can injure others/set surroundings aflame. Would have to use different tones from her healing songs. ]
Wishlist
Thank you!]
Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>
|
image by safetylast @ flickr.com
|
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Music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm
