"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.
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
The air is cold, the southern lands unspared by the harshest grip of Frostfall. Snow dares not to fall, courage seaping out of its veins high in the gloom of gray masses over head, coming downwards to the sands decorated and shimmering in what is day, she believes. After a childhood in eternal darkness with only her horn's guiding light to see her through the horrors, then there is a good way of knowing the difference between night and day. You learn the signs and symptoms of the syndrome that is the transition of night and day, get used to it but always take favour to another. When the night left, her horn was almost useless for her, and in return, the day became her enemy. The luminant bone, fused into her skull was her most prized possession, and what she held onto with her dear life.
For it to be useless was original sin to her species.
The void that is Frostfall welcomes her to a new year while she patiently waits to add meat to her now skinny, frail features that outline her rib cage though it is hidden before a honey shaded hide darkened by time. In Tallsun, she'll be brighter than the filly mare who stands alone against the sea. Ice doesn't glide atop the waves who once raged have no storms to distantly anger them so that they may strike upon the beaches with a vengance. Softly, tiredly, burdened by the season itself, a sigh sweeps out from her and coils its essence before her eyes in a spine shattering position. The pale colours in her irises reflect the sky she even longs for now. Where has the Sun gone? Was the Dragon's Throat not the realm of the Sun?
Sand wails as she breaks it's crystalline bones to step away from a wave that comes to greet her, the sea welcoming her to a freezing embrace that she wants to return as she has always done-the sea was her second home, behind that of the snow in the north-, her back-pedal enough to offer a wound towards the sea if it could bare a heart to understand feelings. She doesn't intend to be so cold to her lover, as she deems it at times, but the winter has made everything cold overall. Even her skin is cold, shivering slightly when the winds are harsh and she's given up that miracle that comes with dwelling northward.
A snort rises from her nostrils as she stands alone and stares out into nothing-ness, zoned out just to the gray sea and gray sky that becomes one with one another somewhere in the distance where she'll never reach.
Where the air was thin, the air was cold. It was a something Bucephalus knew well, but at the moment he could care less. He'd need the speed. Far above the ocean he circled, climbing higher and higher with each rotation. There were no storms brewing along the coast, thus he was denied his ultimate thrill, his drug. So, this stunt would have to do. It would clear his mind of all his thoughts for a while, allow him to return to what he desired. Finally reaching the altitude he sought, Bucephalus-no. Here, with only his lover to caress and hear him, he was not Bucephalus.
He was Altan Al'ekke.
Altan was high enough that he could delude himself that he was amongst the sands and skies of his birthplace. A laugh escaped him, clouding in the thin air as gold-tipped wings labored to keep him in the air, grasping at the sky. The wind licked and kissed his neck, twining her fingers through his mane, his tail, his feathers. No touch did he crave more. A change in wingbeats, and he was turning in the air, continuing his spiral. This air was not thick enough to support a hover. Gold eyes cast down to the ice-flecked sea, and a grin spread across Altan's face. Oh yes...this was going to be fun.
With an audible snap heard only by him, Altan folded his wings tightly to his body and plummeted like a black bullet. The air screamed as his wings, unfurled enough only to guide his dive, cut through the wind. Holding one wing out just a fraction further sent him spiraling, speed increasing as he spun. Had he not done this sort of trick before, he would have gotten dizzy and most likely fallen to his doom. The sea loomed, quickly growing in Altan's vision. It was time.
Wings snapped open and flared, feathers spread wide to allow air to pass through. His body jerked as if he was a puppet, his sudden dive broken by his broad wings, and his joints began to strain to keep steady under the pressure of his dive. So he dipped his wings forward, gliding swiftly over the waves. His hooves dipped into the water. It was icy cold, but he didn't care. Altan glanced at the trail his hooves left behind, and a laugh bubbled out of him once more. As his speed began to slow, the drag too much, he lifted his feet and pumped his wings, flying back up once more.
His gaze landed then on the figure upon the beach, and a faint notion of recognition pricked the back of his mind. He knew that shape... not well, but enough that he was curious. So, once again Bucephalus, he dipped a wing and turned towards the mare, gliding down to land on the beach a polite distance away. Once he was situated, he turned his focus onto the pale mare. Where did he know her... "Forgive me, i think we met, but your name has slipped my mind." Buce said, walking over with a faintly sheepish grin.
Word Count:519 Tags:@[Sikeax
Please tag Bucephalus in all posts.
Any force is allowed against short of death.
11-22-2014, 11:57 AM (This post was last modified: 11-22-2014, 11:58 AM by Sikeax.)
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
In her sacred, exiled shrine towards loneliness, hails another coming forth from the skies as if a black angel having been forsaken and tossed from the heavens that rest atop the snow-weighed clouds. Her single presence is pushed backwards evermore against the wails of ice and sand melding into one another at her heavy steps. Ears rise forth and pale, sky coloured eyes watch with heightened alertness. He is brethren, she knows only but the clearly stated fact that he has come to her within the confines of the desert; her nostrils have turned weak and almost to the point of uselessness at the flies that once daunted her. Their presence is thankfully no longer about her life at this point.
Closer up when the dark angel lands before in his majestic, sprinkled with gold flecks over his onyx blanket, a white mask to make her think of the phantoms within the caves that she had recently visited. A dreadful conversation was passed between her and the two other phantoms, but if they were to hold true to life and be breathing as she was at the time being, then there was no way of being sure of that. That darkness was empty and cold much like the day she resided in, and the light of her birthright was not even to ignite the whole room in light so that they may not life from death.
He speaks over having met in the past, puzzling her facial expression and warping them to confusion. Had they? She couldn't remember all but minute, futile details of her past life, things such as what her parents smelt and looked like, not their voices, and the events other than the large gap that lead her to the current Sikeax. Finally, she deems him a stranger. They have not met, for if they did, she would of been less on edge towards him, lacking her fidgeting and ears swiveled sideways.
Like the rest, this one wants her name. With the stranger she had met, things had been different. Instead of having names thrown towards her, there had been a sense of watchfulness and the need to know another before seeking out their calling. For that, she was in great respect of the stallion, wherever and whoever he might of been. "If we have met before, then why do I not know your name?" It was harsh, but time had come to make her uncertain of knowing every stranger there was in the mists of the land. The space that she had lead to be between them was enough for her fast and possibly fast escape, if he didn't take to his wings and chase her down. "You are as much a stranger to me as my name is to you."
Oh, what mean things they have done to her, to make her lock away even her name to herd mates. Maybe with the assistance of her nose, then she could of pin pointed out his scent to tell her that yes, this is brethren and the both of you have every right to be friendly towards one another, but lost without it, she reverts to what must be done to protect herself in these times.
@[Bucephalus]
OOC: Super sorry for the double tag!!! Had a coding malfunction that needed some fixing.
The unicorn mare was on edge. The black's white-sliced face tilted, ears pricked towards her as he pondered, trying to place precisely where he had met the mare. But her words, spoken with utmost caution and mistrust, snapped Buce from his thoughts to focus on her once more. Why did he not know her name? He did not answer her, dropping his head and sifting the sand with his nose until his lips found a small pebble, and he rolled it around in his mouth. The motions settled his mind, helped him focus as he began to retrace his time in Helovia. The places he had explored and the faces he had met.
A faint notion tugged at him, and he spat the stone out, raising his head. "I do not know your name because you did not give it; nor did i give mine... I believe we met somewhere dark... there was someone else with us." He hummed thoughtfully, a puzzled frown on his face. That was about all he remembered, or well could recall on his own. So he focused on the mare, ears pricked. "Although yes, we are strangers. If i recall, we only met once, and not for long." He said, amusement on his face now. Her harsh words had not insulted him, he considered them well-founded. After all; what was one to do when a pegasus just drops from the sky and demands your name. Crap. "Forgive me for my earlier rudeness as well. I've spoken with too many forward folk that prefer to give names at the beginning of conversation." Mayhap that would settle the high-strung filly some. After all, if she was this far into the desert, she had to be of the Throat herd, which meant they were to be 'family' then.
Word Count:300(THIS. IS. SPARTA) Tags:@[Sikeax]
Please tag Bucephalus in all posts.
Any force is allowed against short of death.
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
The stranger, black and gold angel forsaken from the heavens, gives her a response in which she can do nothing more than stare at him for. He appears more feral than herself, through all of her flightly tendencies and the need to get away from anything she doesn't know. It isn't that she lacks curiosity, but by now, she knows curiosity and courage kills the cat. Both of them lay dorment and try to learn what's best for survival with harsh instinct and cold-hearted ways. She may even envy him for the fact that he is willing to easily put it all up on display compared to her much more reserved manners.
A stone fires from his ebony, velvet lips, and the immediate reaction from the mare is to step backwards from the sudden appearance. A snort returns her feelings about the action. She tries her best to keep from coming off as insulted, which in every way she isn't because she is morphing to a skittish thing. There is no way of knowing who is who without her nose when scent reigns supreme over names and alliegances that can easily be lied over.
He rambles onwards, her attention given to him in the fullest extent as it had been before. A nod is offered at his apology, shown that she isn't trying to hold anymore ill towards him over the forward fashion. She'd been that way in the past, and understood it well.
What she learns is that he is one of the phantoms from the cave, clearly alive when he speaks before her and has left the underground to meet her. Has he come to extend the conversation? Does he want to know more as of the world or is he there all because he 'happened' upon her in her sacred place? The koi necklace strung around her neck feels colder than it has before when the salty air of the ocean blasts the pair and freezes her. "Are you here to learn more of our past conversation?"
What more could of he had been there for? To pick flowers? Surely someone above in the ranks would be displeased to see them wandering along the frozen beach in search of useless items that held no sentimental value.
She seemed so much more...reserved than she had in the dark of the caves. Mayhap it made her more...comfortable? Ghosts speaking to ghosts; faceless and without identity. He pondered her question, his gaze drifting to the sea. It was a few minutes before he replied. "I did not come here with that intention; i came to enjoy the sea. But, if you would not mind telling me, i would listen." He said, turning to face her with a wry smile that quickly slipped away. He shuddered at the wind, then blinked and quickly glanced at his hooves. Ice had begun to form on the edges where he dragged them in the ocean, and he quickly dropped his head and proceeded to rid his hooves of the ice.
"You are of this herd... yes? But i do not think i have seen you around." He hummed calmly, gaze flickering towards her. She did not seem the...well wild type. So he made sure to speak gently, with all the regal serenity he could muster to match her own demeanor. Whether he did so successfully or not was entirely to her. But he felt as if he had already set her on edge, and it wasn't in his nature to remain on stiff terms with anyone truly. He enjoyed comfortable company.
Another chill wind made him shudder, and Buce lifted his head, gazing around before he gestured to a rocky cluster with one wing. "Would you like to speak away from this cold wind? You've not the wings i do; the chill must be a bit worse." Cold deserts...bleh. Only nights should be cold in the desert, it was unnerving to see frost on the sand in the daytime.
Word Count:290 Tags:@[Sikeax]
Please tag Bucephalus in all posts.
Any force is allowed against short of death.
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
Slowly, she works to calm her firing nerves, the signs of nervousness and distress expelled from her figure with the grace of time and words. He makes no further advances, in return gaining some respect and enough paper thin trust that tears underweight that she is willing to speak softer and gentler. A shared hush is laid between the horned and the winged.
Each allow it to break, her with a sigh and him with his voice, pulling forward cream cups to the forward position, standing tall together before one finds it better to listen to the surroundings than it is to listen to him. Nodding, she replies without words. She blinks when his smile fades, mentally asking herself if she has done anything to insult. Reviewing her actions, it may of been her natural response to start at the sight of the pebble flung from his mouth. Ears drape to the sides while she watches him preoccupy himself with the ice about his hooves. Was he dumb for placing himself in Frostfall waters, or does his masculine tendencies drown his brain before it can offer much knowledge? His instinct may of failed him, and at that thought, Sikeax bares a smile.
Quickly, it is forgetton, swept away into a dark corner of existence and ignored so that she isn't questioned as of the reason. The black angel appears more foreign as he goes on, asking if she dwells in the Throat and belongs to the family right as they stand in their homeland. Orange sands didn't taint her champagne coat as much as it usually did; the presence of ice over the sands and the death of biting flies left no reason to roll about the sands. The winds were somewhat silenced, and no dust storms rattled through as far as she had been aware. "I have been for the majority of my life. I like the solitude of the sea and stay near it more than I do the Oasis: that's probably why you haven't seen me around. Or are you new?" Attempting to take in some traces of scent, a deep breath raises the front of her barrel. Nothing.
More words tumble from his vocal cords, Sikeax drinking in all of his words eagerly and hoping he has more to offer than just that. She'd rather have others control the conversation than herself, where she wouldn't have to speak as much. A look of amusement covers her facade with a short, soft laugh, smiling dimmly when he believes she must be cold. Shaking her head, she draws it all away into her abyss of emotions, back to the same old clean slate. "I grew up in the North and was raised in a cave of ice. The cold is my home, but if you are cold, then we can leave." She hesitates, watching him to assure he doesn't stroll behind her whenever she calls for her legs to carry her from the sea towards the rocks.
The silence... it is not uncomfortable, but nor is it companionable. It is a silence of a test, and when his voice broke the silence... Bucephalus wasn't sure if he passed or failed. Considering she began to speak, and had not left or grown sarcastic... he must have passed whatever 'test' there had been. "Most likely both. I am new, yes, and i think your fondness for the sea could be what prevented us from meeting...again" He said, recalling once more the conversation within the caves.
Her face grew amused, and he grew confused. Had he said some- his answer came in her words, and he felt embarrassment prickle his hide. Dipping his head to the mare, he turned to follow her, moving by her side. "I didn't know that. I was born and raised in the desert, albeit not this one. So, admittedly... the cold is not something i'm so used to, especially on the dunes." His face dropped to a faint frown as he regarded the desert around them.
He fell silent, not speaking until they both were under the shelter of the rocks, out of the wind. "So tell me, have i earned the right to your name?" Amusement glitters in his eyes as he turned his head to look at the mare, ears pricked. "Or shall you forever remain the ghost of the cave?" It was an attempt at a joke...and a poor one at that(for him, at any rate.), but he hoped she would see it. He didn't quite know what to make of this mare, she was so...strange. He liked it. Here was an opportunity to use his words to full advantage, to draw and twist conversation into something rather elegant, instead of the short, blunt and chopped speech he used as others did. He was forever mimicking the speech style of others, for if he did not he would be strange then.
And that was not something he wanted.
Word Count:329 Tags:@[Sikeax]
Please tag Bucephalus in all posts.
Any force is allowed against short of death.
12-16-2014, 12:12 AM (This post was last modified: 12-16-2014, 12:14 AM by Sikeax.)
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
The black angel wins himself something, whatever it may of been or shall be is a mystery lost to time and space. Sikeax firmly holds to her quiet demeanor, drinking in his words like sweet liquor that doesn't punch the gut when swallowed. He is smooth yet bittersweet, unique in taste in such a fashion there is no way to define him. He misplaces a few things but she never minds or speaks up. It is best for her not to create an argument or attempt to insult someone she has just met. There's a lot more to everyone than meets the eye. "There are many different kinds of deserts, whether they be cold or hot. What makes them deserts though, is that they are all empty. But that wouldn't make this a desert, would it?"
When he has moved beside her and earned more respect as of her for the politeness of his actions, does she really notice that he is a fun one to have about, and yet while her other friends, if she does still have them, were centered about other things and merriment, this one is different. He is one worth having conversations with, and maybe, if he doesn't discover a way to fuck up, then could find himself a spot to be trusted and allowed a friendship from her.
The rocks pull them into safety and confined enclosures, one that leaves her more distraught than the vast void. There was no escape or bolt holes(at least, ones she could fit into) there. If he choose to attack her, she'd be forced to injury a herdmate and a family member, and probably lose her home as such. A horn was a bold fashion statement in the Dragon's Throat when wearing wings was permanently in style.
Silence can never fill his void like it does her's, as she guesses at the amount of speaking he wishes to perform. The constant need for titles drives her mad in a sense of her privacy being invaded, but that must be why it begins with pry: everyone is trying to get into it and see just who you are without any care as of your personal values. She finally gives in when there is no freedom to seek from it. The eager will always pry and nothing will ever change that. "Ghosts have names, regardless of what they may be. Not knowing a ghost's name doesn't mean they have one. Sikeax, but Sia is a more common one as of friends."
Her pale eyes study the amusement about his golden irises, displeased that her wall was burned and torn down by aggressive needs. She wanted to be a ghost, because ghosts have names, but not everyone knows the name of ghosts. Ghosts exist but do not allow everything about them to be known and keep a suspicious, mysterious lifestyle. Overall, it was lonely, and all she ever wanted was to be alone with those that meant something instead of those that were worthless nothings. "Are you pleased, or is there more that needs to be known?" Humour taints her serious tone in a playful manner, one in such that tells she means no harm in what could be a harsh comment to many. "Who are you, so we can be ghosts with names instead of ghosts with no names." Again, she plays cat and mouse more, unintentionally performing games that Mother would of been proud of, but who is to care when they're true ghosts?
OOC: God, I love this thread and I don't even know why. xD
His amusement vanishes the moment he catches her displeased look, and he averts his gaze. Whoops. Maybe she didn't wish to be known? Or maybe had no intentions of telling him her name because... well he couldn't imagine why not. It wasn't like he was asking for her Name, just what she chose to have other call her. Maybe...she had only the Name, and not a shield-name.
But he worries for naught, she gives out her name, and he bows his head at her words. "I bow to your wisdom, Sikeax... i'll stay with that, for i do not believe we are friends just yet." He said, lips tugging up. "Sikeax..." He murmurs her name, rolling it around before deciding... he liked it. He was growing used to the short names of the folk here, but hers had a tone that rang different than the others.
He looks up to her, frowning at her next words, fixing to be insulted before he saw the humor in her eyes. Then he laughed, lips cracking into a grin. "I am never satisfied when it comes to the knowing of things, Sikeax." The truth, plain and simple. His laugh dies when she spoke again, ears pricked. "Bucephalus is the name of this ghost, Buce to those few that can see him." His eyes glitter mischeviously.
"Are you pleased?" He asks, idly leaning against the rocks to scratch his shoulder, gaze focused on the pale mare. "Tell me, ghostly one, what do you think of when you look at the sea?" He asked, ears pricked. This was comfortable. He enjoyed this wordplay, this refined mare and the speech between them.
It was something that made the black relax, his posture lacking none of his usual coiled tension, like a spring pressed down until it trembled with energy. He was still constantly moving as usual; a twitch of an ear, rolling his weight from his left side to his right, a twitch of wing, a tail flick. There was hardly a second when he wasn't in motion... but it lacked the usual fire it had, instead it was more like... idleness. Relaxed. More subtle.
Word Count:360 Tags:@[Sikeax]
Please tag Bucephalus in all posts.
Any force is allowed against short of death.
Sikeax
Turn everything off
And just cover your neck
Cause life is full of your regrets
Together, they fade into comfort, surprise sweeping atop her youthful features at his words. Wisdom? What wisdom? Was she unaware as of her capabilities, or was there something else to her? She intrigues her own self by the hand of the stallion, loosing her tensions and allowing him to understand her better.
Whether they are friends or not goes to the words exchanged, actions performed, and their time spent interlocked.
Conversation shifts at her words, glad that he has understood what was meant to be understood and taken in the right sort of way. He's smart, at least, and that can be difficult to come by. A healthy laugh rises deep from his vocal cords while her facade morphs to curiosity as of if she has pleased him in some form. Each ear pushes themselves forward further until they're at the fringes and straining against their breaking points. What is so funny about wanting to know things, and then having to face the facts as of if you have been cruel or kind? Maybe he is too naive for his own good. "Maybe it is best to be pleased with what you do know. There are things best left unknown." Bucephalus doesn't roll off her tongue when she speaks to him, warning him with her experiences and hoping along the pathway of his life that he'll understand that those are words to live by.
Steam twists, coils, entangles itself in personal estancy when she exhales, thinking over his words. Was she ever pleased? No one had ever cared to ask in the past. Was she pleased with the things that she had done? No. Was she pleased with the way that she was living? No. There is no answer to give him without giving away something, whatever it was.
Instead of answering, she turns her head away and shakes it clear, careful as of his presence and the waving as of her sword.
He must like to pick, asking as of what the sea gives her when she stares out into it's essence. A heart of her heart and soul gather each other up in their arms and cling to the other for dear life while they wither and die.
Out there is the harsh world that she doesn't want to touch while it reaches in to grab and thrash her, to let her know that reality is there and wanting to beat her like the ones that she loves has done so long. A knot ruptures in her throat after clotting her breathing and thoughts. "I see where I messed up in life and try to see the parts that everyone tells me I majorly fucked up but don't remember. It's a kind of pain that kills slowly and excites every bit of pain to a heart breaking level. I can't go back to anything to fix what I did, but when I stare into the sea, the images play over in my head where I did everything right." She shatters like a porcelain doll then, thrown onto the concrete floor. Internally, storms wage war over the seas but on the outside, she is nothing more than distant and tired, worried that if even she put trust into those words that it was too much. The tides shifted too fast and she has overstepped her boundaries. "Excuse me, I didn't intend that." Embarrassment harrasses her, and she can't eat her words to take them away. He is so calm and relaxed as far as her eyes can see, all while she dies on the inside before him. "What do you see, when you're alone?"
He grinned when she spoke, his grin only growing by the time she finished. "But if i'm satisfied with what i know how do i know that what i know is enough and i shouldn't know more?" Okay, that made little to no sense... but he just felt like being a bit playful. "Maybe there are things best left unknown... but i'm not one content to be satisfied with ignorance. I like knowledge, i hoard it... even if i don't get to use it often." He shrugged lightly, turning his head to look at the sea, content here on this beach with her.
She goes silent, pondering his last question he supposes, and in the silence he folds his legs, sinking to the ground. The sand is comfortable, supportive, allowing him to snatch pure rest. He adjusted his large wings, covering his body like a blanket. Then his gaze lifts to the sea, watching the waves crash upon the shore. It's a beautiful thing, one he enjoys, the sound of the sea filling this silence comfortably.
But then Sikeax speaks, and he looks up at her, listening. He listens carefully, his gaze holding not pity, but something akin to...understanding. "We must all pay for our sins at one point, so it's best not to dwell on our past wrongs. Just... instead try to make up for them." His words escape him. For once, Bucephalus doesn't know fully what to say. He can only hope she understood the underlying current of his words; To linger on your sins is to walk down a path of darkness.
"It's no problem... as for what i see..." He turns his gaze back to the sea. "I see something much simpler. I see wildness, untamed and pure, with none it's master. I see something that provides both life and death, that is unpredictable but constant. I see the birthplace of everything. For, without the sea, where would we be? So much of our life comes from the ocean.... the rainstorms that water the land, the floods that cleanse the earth, the tides that leave things of beauty behind." He said, glancing down and nudging a small spiral shell towards her. "Simple but beautiful things."
He looked back to the water, gaze shadowed now, his mind far away. "In Sehrau, the sea sang such a deep, ancient song that could drive you to tears of joy and sorrow. The sea sees so much, it sees mountains rise and fall, herds come and go..." Here the sea's song was plain, just the rush of water on sand.
Word Count:431 Tags:@[Sikeax]
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Any force is allowed against short of death.
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