"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.
11-16-2014, 01:05 PM (This post was last modified: 11-16-2014, 01:06 PM by Ophelia.)
Ophelia the Forsaken
I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
they used to shout my name, now they whisper it
Ophelia had taken her time getting used to the Basin, intrigued by the mirror in the cave that reflected light like waves. The temperature was cold, bitterly cold. More often than not, she found herself holed up in a cave, watching the snow swirl outside like a painted blotting out the blemishes to start over. Her strange, dual colored eyes watched as the blowing died down, just enough to let her step outside. Deer-like prints from her cloven hooves marred the painter's canvas again, but she knew that he would just paint over her again in a few hours.
Wind caught in her bloody tresses, sending them cascading around her powerfully as she walked. Being in a herd, stuck like this, was very against her nature. She had not traveled since she had found the second body in the forest, and that was eating at her, chewing like a thousand rats at those corpses. So much death surrounded her, and it made her feel like fate was tumbling down around her ears. It was only a matter of time before she got caught in the avalanche.
Tinek spiraled down from the sky where he explored, watching the comings and goings. He landed nearby, a silver spectre in the snow globe that was the Aurora Basin. The spark that flew from his jaws was useful here, but not so much the snow. There was enough of that without his additions. Still, he seemed to enjoy it here, and she had asked if he was all right. He agreed, just glad to be somewhere new. He seemed to have the same wanderlust.
Deimos, she assumed was hiding away, but that she had not seen Illynx was interesting. Everything seemed a little too quiet, if that was possible. She hummed thoughtfully, thinking of Torleik and Illynx and Deimos. So many of these faces she knew well and some she did not know nearly well as she would like. She wanted to prove herself as useful here, to these people. Ophelia had never blamed them for wanting to stay with their own kind, but she did not believe that they were blood thirsty savages - well, perhaps that did not apply to Deimos.
"Hhmm... Tinek, what do you say we go looking for Torleik or Illynx?" she asked the silver dragon. He nodded in agreement and took to the skies as she walked.
-----------------------------------
The Spark God will be making an appearance, so if you want to be present when Phi is chosen as lead, feel free to post! So it's not a mandatory herd meeting, but 'the more you know~~'.
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
Monstrous rhythm scored and scorched the vibrant, lush vestiges of Frostfall’s breath; a disturbing figure cutting through the chilling whims with his own crafted solidity, acerbic, reticent, unholy, unkind. He pulsed, he pervaded, he filled the world of the Basin with his savage, sinister touch, a heathen forged and sculpted from the arcane, from the hollowed granules of Lucifer’s amusement, Ares’ blades, a motion, a movement, of the nefarious. His wanderings took him past the borders and outcrops of icy crags, puissant glaciers, pernicious caverns, and it would have been a languid journey of taut, rigid persistence and penetrating stares embarked upon the horizon, had a familiar scent not riveted his attention. At first, it was ghostly and tranquil, and then began to uncover slowly, bit by bit, from the seasons and ages of the Edge, where loitering forms failed to yield, failed to listen, and the death throngs built within his soul and hummed their vicious onslaught, to the days of his General hours, listening to contracts made between The Grey and his own. His jaw tightened, teeth clenched, Machiavellian calculations forming and coiling, a vindictive, malevolent haze searing across his mind: what was her purpose within the Basin? It was certainly another noteworthy pattern, a cycle of her constant, moronic choices, likely made with naïve, ignorant, idiotic haste, like an inept fool drumming around in circles and wondering why naught changed. The Reaper had half a notion to chase her out, to drive her away, to make her remember days of old, where her failure to comply nearly ensured an early demise (and how he could have pressed more, more and more and more, until she suffocated under the weight, the crescendo, the magnificent, blinding opus of his abhorrent invocations), pondered if her sister wandered nearby too – waiting to choke, waiting to smother. The beast followed the wafting smell, the flapping of draconic wings, the overwhelming frustration singeing his veins and molding his movements into fierce, feral, barbaric motions, a King bent towards annihilation, a Lord searing and boiling in the layers and lacquer of frost, of rime. His fiend ministrations brewed intimidating, deadly threads, a sinuous snap of the depraved, of the relentless, so upon his approach he was once more the deleterious, treacherous, dangerous barbarian she’d met long before. The deep, blunt candor of his vocals sliced through the edges of her amiable ease (she looked entirely too comfortable here, taking a lively jaunt in his home, like she belonged to the snow, to the peaks, to the valleys, and he loathed it), piercing through any warm, lingering moments – a puncturing, harpooning wraith of wrath. “Why are you here?”
DEIMOS
delivered from the blast last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com image credits
To Zunden learning every nook and cranny of her home was almost as important as learning to fight. If you did not know where the enemy was or how best to get unable bodied unicorns out of the Basin. She wouldn't be able to do that if she didn't know the land. A small smile played across her face as the filly wondered the area. Besides scoping out the land made it easier for her not to feel alone, or unwanted. Adelric wasn't ever around her anymore, he only wanted to be with that black colt. She was very friendless, even if she did have a family. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, it sucked feeling like you were alone. Pausing to shake her oddly horned head the filly sighed.
Voices echoed quietly up ahead, and they didn't seem to be very happy. Moving forward into a smooth canter she figured it would be best to investigate. Nostrils quivered and dual colored eyes swept the snowy landscape falling upon two horned. One was clearly the male that invoked fear as well as excitement from her heart. The other was a mare as white as the snow, with scarlet tipped hair. The red on white drew her up short, caused her breath to freeze in her lunges. Visions passed through her mind driving her crazy, blood, her father... Quivering the filly made herself move again, into their presence.
Once she was within hear shot she called softly her nicker low, but her head and tail held high putting on a facade of happiness. A few more feet and she halted smiling softly. Remembering her manners the youngster dipped her head low allowing it to brush her barbwire marked foreleg before lifting her battering ram and twisted horned head. Unsure what to say, still unsure who they both were her voice was quiet, "Nice, cold day isn't it?" Smiling softly at her joke she looked between the two, not asking for their names like she longed to do. "My name is Zunden it's a pleasure." Oh how bitter sweet being young could be.
11-17-2014, 09:55 PM (This post was last modified: 11-26-2014, 06:15 PM by Rhea.)
Ever since she had come to the Basin things had been unusually quieter than she would have expected. Normally there was some type of activity going on within the herds but so far she had found nothing of particular interest. Much had transpired since her arrival here at the icy confines that she was growing to enjoy much more than she thought possible. From the moment she had encountered the lady known as Illynx and her adviser (that she could not remember his name) things had gone over rather smoothly. The longer she thought the more she was beginning to wonder how long her trial here would be before she might be considered an actual member of the herd. What would she have to do in order to prove her worth to those making such a decision as to her fate? Sighing softly she watched the frozen air swirl around from her breath thinking long and hard about ways she could prove she was worthy.
Few had shown themselves outside of the caverns that were rumoured to be hiding somewhere beneath the ice and snow. In her ventures she had yet to come across anyone expect for the lone unicorn she had ran into down by the hot springs. Where was everyone and why was it so difficult to find anyone in this place?
Voices startled the hybrid after only hearing the sound of her hooves crunching along through the ice and snow for the last number of hours. Lifting her crown she gazed around with bicoloured focals to find those belonging to the voices. The blackened stallion was easily spotted against the white canvas but it was his fellow comrade that took a moment to find for her coat was as rich as the snow itself. The only things discerning her from the rest of it was the brilliant crimson tassels adorning her long locks. Pausing a couple moments longer the lanky youngster that she had met earlier appeared from between the drifts to join this little gathering. Heeding Illynx's words of caution she took a breath before deciding to go see what was going on for herself. Who were these strangers? Both adults seemed to air on the side of importance but to what extent she knew not.
Approaching with caution the painted girl paused a few feet from the others before letting her presence become known. " Hello, my name is Rhea. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintances yet." She commented lightly with a submissive short bow of her head. Now let's hope that she did not manage to tick off someone and set forth the wrong impression. She was already against odds bearing the ghastly mutations her mother had burdened her with anything else might as well be the final nail in her coffin.
I have been looking for Dad for sometime now. Even after running into what seemed to be some sort of family that I have within the Basin. Even a half sister. I am not sure what to think about this at all, and to be honest I don't really like it. I stalk through the snow and icy that covers the ground, my growing legs cutting through it much easier than they had just a few months ago. Then again, I myself am growing up. No longer am I the wobbling little filly my father saw the day I was born. No. I am strong and well built, for an almost yearling that is. I still have a lot of growing to do, but in my actions I am already becoming an adult.
I am wandering along the edges of our boundaries when I see them. A pale white mare with a flying silver companion. My interest is peaked as I've never seen such a companion before among any of us. Our Lord of the Basin is quick to stop her movement, my ears not catching what he says. Another joins them, with to strange horns upon her head that go out to the sides instead of straight up.
I move forward gracefully, ice and snow trailing me slightly and clinging among my ebon colored tail. Before I can get close enough yet another arrives. My eyes widen in alarm as I take in not only her horn, but WINGS. Nasty horrid wings! Wings like that jerk who had destroyed our invitations. I hated those with wings, all because of him. Now someone who had them dared to come into my home? Although maybe we could rip them off her. I'd love to have a few feathers in my mane from that...
I remain silent, watching everything as I arrive. It is not my place to speak this time. I will only act if needed. My newly discovered magic could come in handy if trouble came up. But let's just hope that doesn't happen, yet.
"Sed interdum rutrum urna, sed pellentesque sapien tempor in."
I'm braver, because I fought a giant and won.
I'm stronger, because I had to be.
I'm happier, because I've learned what matters.
I stand taller, because I'm a survivor.
11-18-2014, 12:22 AM (This post was last modified: 11-18-2014, 12:25 AM by Sialia.)
I Ain't Got Time To Bleed
Sleepy eyes open, and for a few moments my vision is blurred. It is bitterly cold, but I find warmth in the small body next to my own. Dark blue eyes turn to look down at the daughter by my side. She is still sleeping, and with a sigh of resignation I know that I must wake her. There are things to do today, and the daylight never seems to last anymore. My two toned muzzle reaches downwards, pushing the child gently awake. The filly lifts her head slowly, her face turning and icy blues blinking tiredly. Finally her sleepy eyes find mine, and she yawns before standing up. With that I am up as well. Both mother and daughter stretch, before she has her breakfast and we start our trek out into the bitter cold of the winter in the Basin.
Today we hit the steppes, patrolling the borders, making sure no enemy's come in, and checking for visitors. For a few hours we continue this cold routine before being released from duty. The plan was to move back down and snuggle up in the warm cave, but things get sidetracked. There is a crowd, and that crowd is surrounding the newcomer Ophelia. Mother and daughter move towards it, curiosity ticking at both, like an annoying bug buzzing around your face, never leaving you be. As they move closer I recognize two faces. The face of a filly I helped deliver invitations with. Mirabella I believe. Then the Lord Deimos. His voice is gruff, cold, unforgiving. He asks what she is doing here.
There are two I don't recognize, one a filly, the other... was winged? I give the winged woman an odd look, letting my eyes slip around her body, before resting on the horn on her brow. I now turn my attention to Deimos. "Why do you think she is here? She lives here. Torleik brought her in not long ago. My daughter and I had the pleasure of meeting her." My voice is harsh, and though I know I should be respectful towards my Lord, I cannot bring myself to be so. He was a fool, who asked pointless questions. Boring questions. Along with it he had an annoying arrogant supremacist attitude. I turn my attention to Ophelia, I give her a nod and a rare genuine smile. "Since there seems to be a gathering I suppose I should introduce myself and my daughter to those who don't know." I look at the winged mare, and as I speak I look to the filly with two horns. "I am Sialia, and this is my daughter Glacia." Once I finish, I step back, and my daughter grins. "Hello Ophelia! Hello Tinek! For the rest it is a pleasure to meet you all!" My daughter grins sheepishly, before looking at the filly's gleefully. She had not had a chance to meet the other children of the Basin, and this was the first time she had seen any. I couldn't blame her for being excited.
"Speech" Tag;; @[Ophelia] @[Deimos] @[Rhea] @[Zünden] @[Mirabella] Words;; 521 words Notes;; Had to edit this because Mira replied before me! X3
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image
Gold coat shivered and flinched against a draft of cold. Groaning, its wearer stands, and moving to the corner of the cave pulls a wolf hide. Its under-skin may be slightly rough, but it took the edge of the draft in his cave. The golden had been proud of this spot when he first came to it rising above the healer’s cave with a wide sweeping view of the Basin, but now he knew why it was empty. Winter in other parts of Helovia was losing its grip but he had travelled here. Why still puzzled even him, but in his state who could blame him. Nipping at his shoulder the gold reminds us of his illness. Oh but it’s gotten much worse than that. From every breath he breathes and every outlet available flies had begun to buzz from him. It was not exactly a condition he wanted to show off, nor did the beast handle it very well. With blisters about his lips and flies coming out from him the gold was assured it was just a long descent to hell, so that now, even the cold of the Basin didn’t seem to hellish, and he certainly could not keep up his charade in the Throat.
Staggering to the opening of his cave he faces the fresh air with a half asleep look. He had been watching for one particular mare up here, but had seen no sign of her. Had Illynx escaped the fate he had planned for her? Earth eyes fall away to the valley below with distant look, but then something catches them. A black charger comes gallivanting towards a white, red tipped mare. Shaking his head, and scattering flies that arose from him the gold looks closer and sees other gathering around her. Snorting out even more flies to their frozen deaths the gold pin his buzzing ears back, though his desire to see what was happening was great, he was not in a mood to keep company. Still, curiosity was always strong him in, even in this state.
With dragging steps, and weary frame the gold, and his flies come from the mountain to the valley floor below. The gathering was close to an outcrop of pines, dressed in their thick winter best, a perfect hiding spot. Shaking with bites and flies, who left a near trail of dead bodies the gold slips in behind the trees. He knows some of these horses, and takes in others, but he can barely see them. His body begs him to give up the foolish endeavor, or at least to lie in the snow, but to do such is, even the golden knows, ridiculous, so he stands quietly, listening as they make their introductions. This was all very curious.
OOC:: Poor boy is in the last stages of that crazy fruit/fly thing, and would like to remain hidden, but I can't stop you from finding him. ;]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
The Bloodskald had spent a fair amount of time in the Threshold lately, and had been mildly successful in his recruiting - two out of three so far if he included Ophelia. So it was that the Basin General made his way back towards his home, body dusted in white from the snowfall. The air seemed to grow colder as he passed the Sentinels just as it always did and Torleik wondered what kind of magic his cousin had imbued the machines with. Speaking of Ulrik...he should check in on his mad family member. It had been a while. Surely...with Illynx being missing... He shook his head. There was never a 'surely' with Ulrik. Perhaps the disappearance of the mother of his child bothered him, perhaps he hadn't even taken note.
But family looked out for one another, and the dual-horned stallion would check on his cousin soon. For now, this gathering up ahead concerned him most and he quickened his pace. What was this about? His eyes alighted on Deimos and Torleik frowned. Was he missing a herd meeting? No call had been given out.
Then he saw Ophelia and a warmth soothed his frayed nerves and limbs embittered by the cold. The dead of winter here in the Basin was harsh some days, even for a body built for cold like his was. Sialia's voice reached him, answering a question he could only assume came from Deimos given her attention to the leader of their herd, and the Bloodskald slowly took up stance next to the pale-and-crimson princess he'd ushered into this place. "She is right," he spoke to the Death Lord, unafraid, shoulders squared to him. "I brought her here. She knows more about this land and the machinations of its politics than this entire herd combined; you question the wisdom in this?" His challenge was subtler than his heart wanted him to be, but slightly more brash than his reasoning guided.
But what was said was said, and he meant the words. How could Deimos find fault with bringing in one such as Ophelia? She was an asset if the Basin had ever acquired one.
On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero
When all of Time was at your disposal, sometimes the most calming thing to do was simply listen. Silently, invisibly, the God watched, waited, and listened.
He heard the blue stir of the wind as it breezed through the Basin, and it unnerved him. Things were happening that were not quite right, things that he could not see - not even in the Time Streams - but that burned under his eyes and filled his lungs with a vibrating anxiety. Things were about to happen that were barred from his vision. Moments such as these displeased the God. The God of the Sparker, hoarder of Time and knower of things to come was rarely deprived of that which he was entitled to: the future. But when he was, it was vexing.
On this day, his attention was drawn to the Basin. Although it provided little comfort to the darkness that pooled in his mind, the God was glad that he did not miss this moment. Moments for him were fleeting - he had missed the birth of his own child after all, but some called to his vast mind, the way that this one did. It pulsed with a dying violet, calling his attention and bringing him down into mortal form. He appeared behind the ground without pomp or circumstance. No one around would notice that he had appeared, for it would seem that he had always been standing there. There was no flash of blue, no smell of petrichor or electricity.
The God was there all along, a smirk on his stoic features.
"She is here because a million billion instants have occurred in precisely the right order to bring her here."
In his mind a thousand instants swirled and danced, from the creation of the stars, to Paladin and Soleil and their first meeting, to the birth of twins - one dark and one light -, to Torleik and Ophelia's meeting and concluding with the darker stallion's offer to bring to Forsaken to this place. All of it the God had seen long ago, and allowed to occur. It amused him greatly to hear the Reaper's question.
"The marked one is right." The God continued referring to Torleik as his stocky body moved forward towards Ophelia, although not looking at her directly. "Ophelia has ... been around." His voice had a brief spark of amusement in what was meant to be a playful jab at his history with the Foresaken, before it was swamped by the emotionless tone his voice immediately acquired.
"Ophelia shall take the position formally held by the GildedBlade." He decreed, the conviction in both his voice and electric gaze offering no room for discussion. Flowers of static energy blossomed around Ophelia's cloven hooves, casting sparks that flew away as wayward balls of light. Even the air around Tinek offered a few sparks, before fizzling into a shimmer. He thought Ophelia might like the dramatic flare - she was dramatic was she not? Why wouldn't she like it? Although perhaps whatever drama the God had experienced with her was ... justified given their history. Perhaps the crimson-tipped mare was not normally so boisterous with others. Still, if nothing else the sparks indicated that her position here was upheld by his own magic, not just his words.
Sparky will be around for a few posts if anyone has anything to say to him
I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
they used to shout my name, now they whisper it
Ophelia had wondered when she would collide with Deimos. Now was a good a time as any, she supposed. His words, deep, did not betray whatever emotion he was feeling - if he was feeling any emotion at all. She assumed that seeing her so securely behind the borders of the Basin was unsettling, so she offered a smile. The pale princess watched others quickly converge on the scene, answering his question for her. She remained silent on the issue, watching Sialia and Torleik lead the conversation.
The mare was curious to see the winged hybrid here, and she raised a brow in interest. Perhaps the Basin had changed considerably since her last visit. The crowd was looking slightly more diverse. She held no opinion on this matter. Her two-toned gaze warmly rested on the boy and the winged one, her lips joining the kind expression with a courteous smile. "Greetings to you both," she replied. "My name is Ophelia the Forsaken, and I am pleased to meet all of you."
Much to her surprise and partially to her irritation, the God of Time simply appeared. She had no recollection of when he had shown up, which rocked the comfort of her memories. The expression on her face cooled to the sphynx-like mask she wore when attempting to cover her true feelings. Though her distaste for the god was rumbling in her chest.
Still, he was wise. His words were bathed in reality and a unique perspective on the world he ran. When he spoke, she listened, craving knowledge like a drug. She tracked his movement while he walked, taking offense at his jab. He was the only one she had ever been with, and even then, she remembered none of the finer details. She did not remember it at all, actually. Ophelia scowled, delicate ears laying against her neck.
Sparks erupted around her hooves, joining with Tinek who cheered and let his own powers jolt from his jaws. She shook her head slightly, but she was surprised that the God had given her this new position so quickly. The God of Time was always so full of surprises. "Thank you," she responded simply.
Then, she turned to the others, feeling a strange sense of discomfort leading those she had known for only a short time. With the Grey, she had formed deep bonds, forged in battle, stealing and trickery. They had conquered the Foothills together, united as one. Here, she saw individuals living in the same place. "Should you have any questions, I am more than willing to answer."
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
Her eyes watch the pale figure float through as if she's done it a million times before - as if she lives here - but Tangere doesn't recognize that distant face surrounded by dancing red. Quietly she watches and listens, unaware of Thranduil and the God doing the same thing. A group assembles out of thin air, or so that's how it appears. Some offer there names, most offer quaintness and welcoming; except for the 'Lord of Darkness' over there. She smirks at Deimos's usual wry, prickly question and/or remark. Torliek, whom she only knows in passing, speaks up. She doesn't listen carefully after this, instead she gets sucked into the thought of Illynx's disappearance.
Was she gone for good? Where is Rikyn? Has she died?
She wonders if the same sickness that dragged the silver unicorn into the depths of illness had claimed Illynx... It seemed unlikely. Perhaps she'd been captured, but by who? For what? The politics of the Basin as of late are a mystery to the mare and her wise bird. Neither have seen the group in months, their faces barely registering to memory as she stares from her hill down at them. The white raven extends his wings with a powerful thrust and takes to the gentle wind. He glides with few wing beats down to the group, settling on the closest low branch as he always does. He resists the urge to look behind him, he can feel someone there. His mare is quick to follow, moving to stand among the small gathering. She nods but doesn't say a word, just moving her eyes to the pale, crimson-tipped mare. Her smile is honest and wide, her glassy eyes swallowing the unicorn's full form for a moment until someone else says something and draws her attention away.
This someone is the God of Spark. She's never seen him before but the group seemed rather un-amazed. As if this happens daily. His announcement is brief, but as solid as stone. So this mare, Ophelia, she's to be the new leader. The God seems to gaze at her like an old friend, or at least a familiar of some sort.
“Welcome then, Lady Ophelia.” Her soft-chime voice is only for Ophelia, she leans in toward her nearest ear to say it and then finds her correct posture again. The sparks fly and twirl and bloom, a neat trick, her smile finds the God but struggles to stay on him. She observes for only a quick anxious second before casting her unsure gaze to her bird and then back to Ophelia as she thanks the God and then addresses the group.
A million questions explode inside of her mind but none are willing to surface. Her ears twitch and she intentionally wears a blank face, as if she's new or just simple. She adverts her eyes, attempting to not look obvious, waiting for someone to speak up.
tangere
AND THE DOVE OF HOPE
BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE...
You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
Were the Reaper not the epitome of control, he may have sunk back into the shadows and slithered away to escape the injustice, the confusion, the ridiculous proclamations swindling back and forth. Instead, because he was a master of constraining emotions, maintaining indifference, reticence, and nonchalance, he allowed the inner portions of his mind to sear and seethe, and like bewitching, intoxicating flames, they unraveled. The first notion was of complete, utter bewilderment: Ophelia had actually been invited and lived within his land, strung up and gazed upon like a princess, like a virtuous, incandescent angel, and it made him want to tear and rip apart the idiots, the fools, who glanced with slackened jaws and admiration. He ignored Sialia’s seditious crackles, he ignored the wandering children, and he ignored the spiraling remnants of his confusion roaming in a constant, everlasting circle (because what did others see in her?), but he couldn’t disregard the obnoxious sway of the General. His piercing, penetrating stare roamed to the beast, and he snorted in response to the ridiculous proclamation, because Deimos had experienced the femme’s sway several times over, and the only impressions made had been contracts, hasty moments of his past life as commander of the soldiers, or her inept wanderings into places where she wasn’t wanted. The deep notion flooded over his irritated lips, settled into the tense atmosphere, seared into the undulating coil of his fierce, ferocious expanse. “I am acquainted with her political machinations. You greatly exaggerate her capabilities.”
But then, of course, the rest of the absurd opus conjured across the plain in the form of their patron God, justifying Torleik’s speech (someone had to be joking) –
And another gavel fell – Ophelia, given the position as Lady – Illynx, tossed aside, forgotten, and his frustration peaked so intensely, so savagely, that he almost couldn’t contain his rage. It burned, it boiled, it seared, it smoldered, down past his lungs and out his chest, like a breathless, restless, heathen declaration, casting aside all innocent connotations and virtuous bracken, coating the inner layers and lacquer of his structure like a devil’s scripture. His thoughts were an overwhelming bout of questions and queries, loathing, contempt, disdain and derision for the strange, untoward notions and moments brought forth to him. Who was she to deserve the throne? Who was she to capture the icy crown? What had she ever done for the Basin? What made her worthy, when all others had worked tirelessly for the icy walls and the guarded caverns, guarding, protecting, enduring, time and time again, forging their livelihoods into the rime, into the snow, into the frost, while she did nothing? He clenched his jaw and gnashed his teeth, bit back subversive oaths towards the deity, and stewed in malevolent silence, drove his nefarious mind into other filaments, gestures, so he wouldn’t be cast into the underworld for murdering the newest sovereign of the auroras.
For, if Ophelia was replacing the GildedBlade, where was the latter? Though he held no great feeling for the banshee, she was at least capable, strong, enduring, and like a thorn in his side, he figured she’d be around forever, tormenting them all with fake smiles and golden conspiracies. But now – she’d drifted away? He was almost irrationally angry with her for fleeing and leaving him with the remains of this stupid display, but instead, he pierced through the shade, stared at the God, and hastened his query. No congratulations to the Forsaken, no clamoring or kissing at her feet. He searched, scoured, unwound for answers, for reasons why these tedious moments even had to occur. “Where is Illynx?”
DEIMOS
delivered from the blast last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com image credits
And he was immediately overwhelmed. He stared at his cousin, Torleik, standing next to a white mare, who he had to admit was very pretty. But, on her back was a silver abomination proving her mudblood heritage. Still, the horn on her head was proof that she was at least a halfling. Why? He was unsure of his stance in the impurity of her blood when visually she was so striking, built like a war maiden and with cleft hooves so much like his own.
The fact that she looked so much like them but was obviously not made him grumpy, and when Deimos spoke, he realized who she was. He had been to enough herd meetings to keep up on the important things. She had been the one to help provide soldiers for their two failed wars against the Edge and the Throat - she and the prickly, fat black one he had sparred only shortly before this day.
The Engineer scowled, but his scowl deepened when he caught sight of a hybrid with wings. What was this land coming to that a dragon atrocity and a feathered fowl were both allowed to wander in these great mountains? Overwhelmed, he glared at the God of Time, mirroring Deimos' sentiments again. Where was Illynx? Where was his son. Though he was loathe to admit it, he missed his boy, and he had searched for the lad and come up empty.
"You are placing this girl who made agreements to battle with our herd and did not show up to the fight in the position of Illynx?" he questioned rather firmly, glancing at his cousin. Torleik couldn't know the history behind this woman. The Foothills leader had to answer for her actions. While he was sure that she was capable, given that she had invaded and won her own homeland, he was not ready to accept her as their lead.
Granted, Psyche and fallen immediately, d'Artagnan didn't seem to try and he had left, disappointed.
"Where is my son?" The stallion shook, overwhelmed with the depth of emotion he was unused to feeling. Everything was happening too quickly for the Engineer to process, and it showed in the wild hue of his bronze eyes. Politics was always his undoing.
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Image by Nikkayla
"You lack the requisite spine and testicular fortitude to study under me"
-- Patrick Rothfuss
By the time the Nightshade finally turned up to the meeting there were already quite a few gathered. Even his holiness had rolled out of his sparkly bed and blessed them with his presence. With a faint frown, d’Artagnan joined the group of unicorns and hybrids. He looked across at the winged mare with an open look of disgust. What was this? In his disgruntled state of ignorance had the Basin forgotten the reason they were in these mountains after all?! Perhaps generations grew up and the era moved on, but his mind could and would never forget his purpose, past and reason for even being with this band of misfits. Maybe, just like Mauja had, they were all going through that state of “maybe I was wrong” but that glorious U-turn had yet to descend upon the Time Mender. So he stood amongst the gathered like a disgruntled old relic and played with his magic on the hybrid girl who had announced herself as Rhea. Weaving his sleep wave towards her just to see if she’d tumble to the floor and, with a bit of luck, accidentally break her neck. At least that would be one problem fixed.
The other problem was the reason for the gathering. Apparently their patron God had decided it would be a good idea for Ophelia, the girl who had claimed his own flesh and blood (albeit tainted blood) as her own. A child merely whose previous reign had already come to an end, so what made her better now? She was announced in a tumult of sparks and hailed as a Lady. The Doctor and his hound bored their eyes into the absurd performance with the shade offering a short laugh when finally she spoke. Any questions indeed. He wondered if she’d attempt to banish him from the land, given their not so great history on the topic of Mesec. ”Why here?” His gravely voice enquired, genuinely interested as he glanced to Deimos who was clearly disgruntled over the whole event to which d’Artagnan wasn’t surprised. ”What makes you think you can Lead here girl?”
His gaze was challenging. Deimos he could follow, but this child? Was the Lord of Time mad?! Part of his fur began to glow a little redder as Aramis’ markings burst into life and reflected on his side, the hellion’s pointed tail lashed back and forth in response to his bonded’s shifting emotions. Apparently if one spent too much time hidden in a cave then the world all went awry, perhaps it was best if he just stayed in that cave and never came out of it. Only bad things happened when he did these days.
The Haruspex stood calmly, broken from a certain energy that had vitalized his spirits for some seasons; everything was mild about him these days. As a matter of fact, Sin himself could confess to being somewhat neglectful of his more scientific pursuits of philosophy—engrossed, as he was, with this new predicament that faced his herd and his family, this growing threat of an unknown, untested quantity, treating this horror as though it were a newly discovered gas that climbed up from the cracks and geysers of the earth. He watched his god, that ever-powerful Lord of Time that he so revered and tried to serve so desperately, with a tranquil, steady eye. Thoughts of Myrddin were present, memories both of the animated, crotchety old man and his wrinkled corpse. It was no use trying to dispel those things from his mind, and wear the hide of a hypocrite. In all honesty the recollections barely stirred him, failing to ignite the passions of the newest Haruspex. Though Sin’s obvious sobriety should be noted, as well.
His dear Lady, Illynx, was gone as well. He gave tiny sigh of pity, a silent shudder that wracked his body once, and only once—then he was done. He had adored his GildedBlade, his Lady of golden brocade and pleasant disposition; she had been most appreciable, glimmering as she did by the side of the Reaper. Hadn’t she done her job well, and protect her citizens efficiently? Sin wouldn’t forget her, or that adorable little companion of hers, the one whom Sin mourned for as well, for he had never had the chance to investigate that creature’s anatomy closer. Ah, well. This was not the first time he has seen the herd shift underneath him, dynamic and organic, the power structures crumbling and raising from the earth again. It mattered little—unless, of course, they dispelled him from the herd. And for several years now, no one has had the heart to throw the insane away.
He did not know this woman, this pale woman of crimson tips and a rather gloriously blue eye. In another lifetime Sin would’ve been absolutely cheerful to crush that skull, examine those beautiful eyes of hers, particularly that blue one that they shared. But no, this wouldn’t do, now that his own Lord of Time had named her Lady of the Basin. She smelled of cold—but obviously a different sort of cold, a cold that had nothing to do with the mustiness of the caves, the salt of the hot springs. In short, she was not a woman of the Basin; at the very least, she hadn’t been a citizen for very long.
His Lord of Time had chosen her—there was nothing to debate. He would reserve his judgments for now, and give her the time needed to demonstrate her ableness to lead the herd. He lowered his head to her-- not quite bowing as he had with Illynx, for that had been tinged with a twisted sort of vague personal affection that he did not spare for Ophelia, not quite yet. “My Lady,” he said with lilting, gilded words of smooth honey, “it brings me honor to welcome your presence here, so graced by the light of Spark and the music of Time. I am Zikar-Sin, and I shall serve you as Haruspex, m’Lady, if you see fit.”
He lifted his head now, and turned his eyes to his dark god—shocked to see him there so suddenly, with little fanfare. Zikar-Sin had expected his god to be a man for flare; he supposed he should stop expecting anything from a god. “Divine Lord of Spark,” he said, a nothing restrained about the reverence in his voice, “I come to you now, humbly requesting guidance, if you are so accommodating….” The god was here on another appointment, it was true—but the Lord was here now, in flesh, and Sin needed counsel for his people.
“What can we do to shield ourselves from this blight?” It was a rare bluntness for Sin, someone who loved to talk and lace his words with eloquence. Yet, of course, he had just seen his old Master lying broken and dead upon the poppies. Voids didn’t break has hearts did—but they did fluctuate painfully, from time to time.
On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero
The God ignored the look Ophelia cast his way. So she didn't like his comment - oh well. She was like that. It hadn't even occurred to him that he had put her into den of vipers without any warning. He had seen that she would be the Lady at a crucial time, and so he had forced it into reality, just the same way he had seen that he would sire a child with her and forced that (in so many words) into reality as well.
What he wouldn't ignore was the piercing gaze from the Reaper, and the thoughts of doubt, distaste, and disgrace that flooded from his mind. The God's blue-tipped tail snapped suddenly against his hocks causing a flurry of sparks to fall harmlessly upon the snow. Although his stocky movements suggested aggression, the expression on his face was one of borderline amusement, barely creasing the nearly emotionless mask that he wore.
"Illynx has been sent West." He responded simply, his gaze boring into Deimos with a patient kind of mild hostility. "I have tasked the GildedBlade with a certain ... job, shall we say. She has gone to complete it and shall return to me once she does." Then, with significantly more attitude, "We are all the products of our environment Reaper. You are born with the body that you have in an environment that will mold you - but all of this is beyond your choosing. Every decision you make can be perfectly described as simply the consequence of every antecedent action that comprises the sum of your short life. This is all contingent. You kid yourself if you think that you've ever been anything other than the product of a thousand choices that were made before you were even born. Think on that before you dare to think to criticize one that I judge worthy to lead my lands based on her contributions."
His response to the Engineer and Nightshade were more or less along these lines.
"Yes I do." He responded to Ulrik without further clarification, his tail swaying idly behind his stout rear as he casually leaned to one side. "As for your son ... He is with Illynx." He concluded vaguely with a shrug. He had only needed Illynx for the task. The fact she had brought baggage along was not his concern.
"She never said she could lead. Perhaps if left your cave more often you would have been here sooner to hear that. I said she could lead." Sparks seemed to lace his words, even as his stare remained stoic and bland.
But he was growing tired of these questions. The urge to simply throw them all through his mirror and start afresh was beginning to sound better and better...But his thoughts were interrupted by Sin, who finally managed to coax a smile from his dark lips.
"So you've noticed your predecessor is dead then." He began, referring to Myrddin. "His time should have expired long ago ... perhaps who ever did this was trying to do him a favour." It was clear however that the God thought no such thing. "Haruspex, would you use a shield of wood against flames? Of glass against stones? Of iron in a battle under the sea? Of course not. What you are shielding yourself against instructs the type of Sheila to be used. And you can't shield yourselves from what you're ignorant of - Have you been following the clues? Our mystery killer seems to be ignorant of keeping a tidy crime scene. "
11-25-2014, 01:41 PM (This post was last modified: 11-25-2014, 03:01 PM by Ophelia.)
Ophelia the Forsaken
I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
they used to shout my name, now they whisper it
Ophelia was not entirely sure what to feel at the quickly claimed doubts. At least d'Artagnan and Ulrik had the courtesy to ask her if she was up to the task. Deimos seemed to make such vast judgments on her abilities when she had rarely seen him move past the walls of this winter fortress. This made her wonder how much he knew - how far the hooves of his loyal followers reached. The temptation to read his mind was great, but she withheld for now. She would reserve such wicked chicanery for when she was confident in his lack of respect for her leadership. Phi realized now that she had to prove herself, rid them of doubts with her actions.
Two greeted her warmly, and she bowed to each deeply. The mare seemed kind and beautiful, and the stallion was strange; she liked him immediately and rewarded this emotion with a smile. "I appreciate your welcome and the opportunity to prove myself to you," she returned, her chime-like voice so gentle.
The God of Time spoke further, and she struggled not to smile as he chastised Deimos for his quick assumptions. She did not speak, though, but she felt comforted by the god's belief in her abilities. Having him support her through this time of questioning made the difference between her quietly stepping down and standing firm to prove her worth. Ophelia had personal quarrels with d'Artagnan still, but Mesec was now old enough to make his own decisions. Part of her felt badly for this Ulrik, that his son left with Illynx. "I am sorry your son is gone," she said honestly. "I am sure that you will see him again soon. We will go find him, if we must."
Ophelia chose to speak for herself, particularly in response to d'Artagnan and Ulrik's concerns. She barely moved, a stone in the wind. "You have your doubts, and those are reasonable. I have no interest in changing what you have been doing, only in helping to achieve greatness in the Basin. Helovia has been my home since the land was discovered, and I have been a spy for Kri the Resolute and then lead a band with my sister. We successfully invaded the Foothills with clever tactics of sealing their warriors, orchestrated by myself, and with strong, practiced fighters of our own. I know that I cannot replace Illynx, but I will do my best to ensure that the Basin is well updated and a force to be reckoned with."
Curiously, she listened to the words between the Haruspex and the God, frowning slightly. She had seen the dead with her own eyes and was there when the God of the Earth charged them all with finding the killer. "The God of the Earth has charged us all with discovering the perpetrator of these crimes, and The God of Time is right. Whoever murdered these citizens has left behind a plethora of clues. We must be cautious now when we travel alone. One of the fallen was a warrior who served me well, Ailith, and I fear for our safety if one so strong and powerful as her could fall victim."
"I see brilliant minds, steadfast hearts and strong bodies here. Certainly we can discover this murderer and bring them to justice for the gods and for our own glory!" Ophelia lifted her head proudly, glancing at those in the small gathering. Then, she turned to Deimos. "Would you consider discussing forms of defense your citizens could use to protect themselves as they search for the murderer?" she asked. "Protecting our own is of the utmost importance."
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
The gold listened and watched through the boughs of the pine from afar. Every once in a while his body would go listless and head drop out of attention, but at the next sentence he would be back and listening again. Flies continued to tumble out of his breath, and ears freezing after only a moment in the chilled air so that after a while he had ring of them around him. Even in this state though the seriousness of what was transpiring did not escape him. The Gilded Blade was gone. And to replace her this no one came to the throne. But no ones could be curious ones for no one knew where they lie or what they were possible of. It seemed to some though, this no one was indeed someone. Deimos especially seemed ready to charge through the thick of it at her throat, and others of the old men gang pressured where Illynx had gone. That question was curious to him as well. That woman, no longer his lady he supposed, was the whole reason he had latched on to this crazy train. With her gone…what kept him here?
Of course he listened to the no one’s list of accomplishments and found them slightly above normal. What made the gold curious though was the number of them. How often did this no one switch sides? If it’s one thing the golden knew the Basin would not tolerate it was a turn coat. Or at least one who made themselves visible. Still, having been a spy for someone called the Resolute, the gold would have to consider this no one with more weight. Golden limbs began to tremble and he knew he could not stay much longer without rest and a scene more embarrassing than he’d care to live through. Perhaps he should just charge the Reaper and let the beast’s anger finish this illness and himself. A hollow sigh rattles through him, but cuts short as it sends a hoard of flies into the air and around his gut. He listens for only a moment more at whatever task Illynx had been sent on before he can stand it no longer. Turning the golden stumbles away through the trees back towards his cave on high.
Collapsing on a wolf hide rug the gold curls up into himself. To be alone, in the quiet to think is his only wish, and one he shall not soon get. Not while his illness persists. Still, he can think, if not in one fluid thought as before. This no one, this lady, as he supposed she should now be called, did not seem to fit with Deimos, but neither had Illynx. Deimos would do anything to protect his borderlands, but could he protect them from himself. It was obvious the God of Time, who’s awe the gold in his state glanced over without care, was certain this was the one he wanted. Just as it was obvious he did not know what was happening, besides there being a killer on the loose. Things happen in this world beyond the God’s power. That could be seen from the circlet atop his head. And if it was a someone well, all creatures hard their own power and destinies. Choices were indeed very powerful changers of time and fate, and someone was making some incredibly powerful choices lately. Golden harks pin back and nip at a fly struggle to survive next to the gold’s warm shoulder. Laying his head back down the gold looks out over the expanse below his hide away, shivering in the cold draft littered with snow flurries. Below he could still just make out the no one’s-the lady’s form. Ophelia. Hmm. Curling his head back in the gold closes his earth eyes, and rests. There would be other days to think on these things. For now sleep and a soothing blanket of darkness called to him. Even the fly which fluttered from his nostril and tickled along his face could not stir the gold.
OOC::
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
11-25-2014, 07:57 PM (This post was last modified: 11-26-2014, 06:15 PM by Rhea.)
The flurry of activity that followed her arrival had the girl struggling to take in all the new faces and still enable herself to pay attention to the words they spoke. As each made themselves known she could feel the piercing glare of a few select members eyeing her with distaste. Straightening her spine and raising her head proudly she refused to be intimidated by the hatred that seemed to fuel their rather rude welcomings. While no words met her ears she could only imagine the thoughts running through each of their minds at the very sight of her. Freak, Mutant, Abomination, Monster.. Each term had been used to describe herself and she was clear as to the reason why. In fact she had used many of the choice terms to describe herself as well but she had come to terms with her mutation and would lose no sleep over others simply stating what she was. Hey at least no one had attempted to lunge in her direction or rip her to shreds yet.
Passing her icy gaze over the newcomers she took note of those who seemed indifferent to her presence and those that seemed to despise it. So easy to judge on what they do not know. Well they can take their egos and shove it up their rears for all she cared. She thought venomously harbouring her own resentment from view. She would change that perspective whether or not they liked it was completely up to them but she would make them see. They would see her for the unicorn she was not for some abomination. The same blood flowed through each of their veins the only difference was their appearance lacked the extra appendages she carried. It was her mind that counted and the quicker they realized that the better off they would all be.
Thankful for the situation not being focused on her she turned back to Ophelia who also seemed to be getting the backlash of the herds opinionated idealisms. What made them so sure that this girl was so incapable? Did they know her or of her abilities? They are just a pile of judgemental jerks with egos the size of France. Get over yourselves already! A godly voice spoke out making her startle slightly and do a double take to make sure that it was real and the speaker for that matter. That stallion had not been there a minute ago? Had he? Taking clue from her last encounter with one of the goddesses she knew better than to comment irresponsibly out loud. "My Lord welcome." She commented respectfully bowing her head and neck gracefully. It was at this point that a sudden rush of exhaustion seemed to hit her like a freight train making her eyelids grow heavy. Blinking rapidly to keep herself awake she straightened up tensing her muscles so not to sucumb to her sleeplike state. Shaking her head in attempts to clear it away she forced herself with difficulty to remain attentive lashing her tail in distaste. If someone was doing this to her she would track them down and give them a piece of her mind after all this concluded. How dare they!
" God of Spark, My lady, what may I do to prove myself of worth to you both? Lady Illynx gave me passage into your beautiful land surely there is something I may do to repay such an honor." She commented as she stepped forward to make herself known before Ophelia and the spark god. with two toned eyes seeking their approval. Nothing was going to make her turn away from her quest and she would do whatever it took to get where she needed to be.
11-26-2014, 09:52 AM (This post was last modified: 11-26-2014, 09:54 AM by Tangere.)
There is a short moment they share, Ophelia and Tangere; amongst the chaos their eyes meet briefly, red and blue with a melted honey brown, they dip politely to each other and move on. Deimos growls something else, it's for the girl and Tang doesn't listen. Everyone seems to be giving this girl Rhea the stink eye. Hm.
What the fuck is happening?
Clearly this is what they (her and the bird) get for disappearing. Luckily no one seems to care about them, it's easy enough for Tangere to remain silent with a shifty, observant stare. Her attention follows the voices, noting their tones and the flicking of their ears in irritation. None of it unsettles her nerves, if anything it's about to make her brain overheat from trying to keep up. These battles waged are of no importance to Tangere, not from lack of passion but just from simply not being present. She pretends as if she's aware, pressing her pink lips tightly together in order to keep the questions from flying out.
Ulrik (whom she's never actually met face to face) breaks the air with a random inquiry about his child - though no one else seems puzzled.... Is there a child missing now? What is happening?.... Rikyn? Her mind asks the question to herself, she remembers the GildedBlade mentioning Ulrik when she taught her about the Basin when she first arrived - she struggles to remember Rikyn's face, looking for traces of Ulrik. She lets the investigation go to the wayside, pushing it into the back of her mind. Her eyes steadily find the next speaker. Her skin gets hot under her long insulating coat, tension is building and the silver mare can feel it in her bones. Her rattling mind is interupted by a subtle commotion in her peripherals. D'Artagnan is being weird, staring devilishly toward the winged girl, instinctively she curls her lip and fights the urge to bite him, outwardly she's very still, just watching him. She's much smarter than to assault him, she's aware that she wouldn't really walk away from that altercation with all of her limbs or brain cells. She is just the silent observer, a brightly colored fly on the wall, her bird is the same; listening carefully.
Oh good, no kidnapping, everyone's just on a secret mission west for the God of Time. No big fucking deal. Duh.
The Haruspex is an odd guy, she said thinks to herself, but pleasant ever the same. She cannot help hut smile very slightly when he talks, but the God's response makes her lips morph back into smileless slack. Murders? Now this is like the seventeenth time she has heard rumor (apparently fact) of murders. She doesn't dare ask anything, obviously everyone else knows what he's referring too. She will figure it out eventually, she tells herself.
Just keep listening.
Ophelia's response eases the wrinkles of doubt swimming around in her churning mind, for the moment anyway. Now she's sure that the grumpy old relics are just being silly. Hating everything with the ability to fly and questioning everything like its shit compared to their expectations. Who even has time to be so dramatic anymore?
The group seems louder, thicker - alive. This is more than she's seen them do in months.
Her eyes fall onto Rhea, blinking and tossing her head. It was d'Art, she thinks to herself, looking at him and then the onyx hybrid. She appears to fight it off, saying something about proving herself and Illynx inviting her here. The statement distracts the unicorn and makes her drift through memories of the Gilded Blade. Illynx had quite a soft spot at times, the silver unicorn pondered, it will certainly be different with her absence. She observes the miserable, contorted faces of these menfolk, these pissy, unimpressed stallions. Something was quite amusing about it actually. Unintentionally the corners of her mottled lips turn upright with a smirk. It isn't a smug smirk, more playful, teasing sort of half-smile.
tangere
AND THE DOVE OF HOPE
BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE...
You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
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