"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.
Much of Helovia has forgotten, but the mysterious creatures that work in the shadows of the land have not. They remember those many nights Africa spent deep down in the caves. They remember the seasons that passed, the way she hid from her herd and herself, the way she tried to drown her sorrows in darkness. But they also remember the happier times in her life- those days when she had friends and she stayed with them, the days when she led and protected her herd, the days when she was in love. They remember all of the good, and the not so good, that she has brought to this earth. They remember and they bide their time, watching and waiting, knowing that the time must come… someday…
From the trees a ruckus is suddenly made. Psittacines of all shapes and sizes explode from the trees, their caws filling the air with more music than this forest has ever known. A rainbow of colors invades the forest- reds and oranges, yellows and blues, greens and purples, and every shade in between. Where have they come from? The very cave where Africa had laid so many years ago. It was a place of depression. Now it is a place of joy.
The birds finally settle around the cave, landing on branches and rocks, sitting anywhere that will support their weight, cuddling when they feel friendly and sitting solitary when they don’t. They are waiting. Someone is coming. How do they know? Their master has called to Africa, a mental prodding, a feeling without words that insists that she must come to this spot… now. And who is the master? Take a look. He sits in front of the cave, waiting patiently. An albino peacock twice the size of any that has been seen before stands on the damp ground, his feathers splayed and displayed, his regal head held high. Africa will come, he knows, and so he waits. He has all the time in the world.
Silas could not feel the compulsion, the irresistible urge that begged his bonded from the tranquillity of her haven, Hidden Falls. He was oblivious, in a tizz, and soft downy feathers fell loose against the billowy valley breeze as he scrambled after her with splayed wings and a heaving breast.
Wait!
In no time at all, the mare had withdrawn all attention from the crystal clear pool by her nest-cave, and the grim rippling reflection of a face scarred by worry and fatigue. The feeling which swept right through her had been unexpected but certain, and Africa had invested all energy to transform as rapidly as she could, even despite the pain which grated harshly through her shrinking core. Mottled grey wings beat in frenzy as dander and feather fell in the wake of her departure; a parrot’s flight was erratic and playful by nature, but the Grey’s direction this time was determined. She neared the secret pool with the tricky path weaving an exit beyond, and slowed momentarily, though the lithe young zephyr was already upon her.
Together they flapped south from the Falls, Silas unsure of just exactly where his possessed bonded was headed, but loyal to her endeavour nonetheless.
The dim blur of Deep Forest stretched out below them, a labyrinth inside which her flailing heart had descended many times. In earlier times, when heat and sand had inspired her (and true affection existed as mere fantasy), an adolescent Africa had explored the sinister woodland in search of fern-root and tender mushroom delicacies; it had been a place of wonder and beauty, a place where pigeons spoke Helovian tongue and Basilisks rampaged. But more recently, it had been a refuge of sorts, where she could wallow in self-induced misery and turn over in her mind, the myriad mistakes she had made along the path to such wretchedness- pitiful, painful...
She guided their journey down suddenly, fervently, and burst through the budding Birdsong canopy, swinging left and right in vain effort to evade shadow-cloaked timber. Silas followed attentively, violet eyes set upon the swooping, descending bird, but she propped suddenly, without any prior warning and fluttered into the forked limb of a tree. Beyond her, the ostentatious figure of an albino creature, a bird type he had not before encountered, stood by the doorway to a familiar old cavern- elaborate tail feathers fanned to his rear, glistening whenever sunlight penetrated the restless awning of foliage above. He followed Africa to the lowest branch of the ragged pine and settled warily beside her.
There were shining eyes everywhere around them, watching, waiting; a rainbow of parrots, apparently decorating every surface available.
The Grey did not rest for long though, the urge in her heart did not cease. Africa dropped from the tree towards the stunning Peacock, and sharp ebony claws grazed the cool earth upon which he stood- pale-yellow eyes danced across his marvellous feathered frame, and she fluffed her own demure cloak in greeting, square red tail waggling behind.
The peacock knows she is coming long before he can see her. He can feel it in his bones, knows it in his heart, that she flaps her wings and races south for him. He has that power, that draw. How else could he control his hordes of parrots, his rainbow-hued flock, and maintain order when the court of birds is adjourned? Two new birds join them from above shortly, Africa and her Silas, and the Peacock finds it odd that the bird remains as a parrot instead of becoming what she truly is- what she should be proud to be.
Assume your true form, he commands silently, words filling her head but not the air. The words are strange, however. One gets the sense that they are spoken to in a language as ancient as the earth itself, translated to the common tongue for the benefit of the listener. Perhaps it is odd, to feel like one is being spoken to in another language but to also fully understanding the intent of the words. The peacock does not give her time to consider such matters, though. Ruffling and parading his feathers in way of return, he then settles to the matter at hand.
Follow me, he commands, entering the cave at a slow pace, not looking back because he knows she will do as he says. Within the cave there are more birds, parrots flipping and flatting, chattering and chirping, making the cave a livelier place than she will remember; however, there is also a very curious display on the left. Within a steel cage, massive though it might be, is a morning dove who coos softly at their presence. What does this bird want? he says to Africa, finally turning back around to face her. His feathers finally retract, settling behind him, as he waits for an answer. The rest of the birds in the cave also seem to subdue themselves, looking eagerly to the gray woman, wondering what she will have to say.
A voice filled her mind, heart and conscience all at once, and Africa ceased all breath and motion to observe it. Stern instruction was given; silent tongue as unfamiliar to her as the roaring song of the ocean, still more ethereal than the whispering wisdom of the elder ashen Unicorn, Hellena and the parrot obediently, without hesitation, bent her neck to focus all concentration.
Four long legs descended together from the perverted blur of writhing bone and skin, two white at the front and two sooty-black to the rear. Small light-weight frame stretched horridly to assume the length and strength of a horse and one wing shrivelled away altogether as the other shed every glossy groomed feather thatched across it (in their place sprouted sharp sheathed new growth that began to flake and itch terribly). So too did a thick, arched Spanish neck emerge and fire licked through the whirling grey mane spilling down along it- flame curled also through black and red tendrils falling to her rear in place of the wedge-like scarlet tail.
Shy and insecure, creamy eyes came at last (barely twenty seconds later), to rest upon the unnervingly commanding expression of the pale Peacock. She said nothing, and promptly the bird turned ahead of his sophisticated, colourless skirt, to guide her down into the cave. Before chipped hoof struck the cold stone doorstep, the one-winged cast a fond glance about the colourful audience of parrots gathered; bright, raucous, and a sight to behold. Silas swooped down from their midst to ride upon the swinging rump of his beloved.
The air inside their once-refuge, was cool, damp and the foul stench of mould seemed more overpowering then Africa remembered. Nostrils pinched as they descended and through the dim light she saw more parrots perched, bickering, watching and tending devotedly to the lavish, lovely plumage they carried. How she would have loved to look so striking- surely one dressed like a rainbow would feel not the burden of depression and guilt... She was hardly proud of her drab pelt (memory of His unsatisfied eye haunted her), and that lack of warm sentiment showed plainly as dense mats and patchy dull hue, heavy skin draped across the pitch of protruding bones.
Neither she nor Silas remember this cave to be so lively; so animated and inviting.
A large cage to the left caught Africa’s eye, and she stepped respectfully by the Peacock as he paused, rich voice again flooding her core. Nervous expression mellowed considerably as her tender gaze touched the cooing dove – cruel steel bars severed clear view of its smooth, pure, grey-brown form. Deep melancholy tripped the pounding of her heart; she understood all too well what the bird wanted, what it deserved. "Freedom..." Her answer leaked through a sombre sigh into an eerily still cavern, and soft lips lifted to brush by the prison, to search unconsciously perhaps, for a lock or door to unhinge. She did not notice the lull of activity in the room until her face turned to find the Peacock, with his feathers smoothed unexpectedly, gracefully behind. Please, let it be free...
She is a woman of few words, of feelings and emotions, with little voice to offer. The peacock does not mind. The one word she speaks is enough, for it holds within it a world of emotion. Freedom. Seven letters. Seven lifetimes of definitions. But it is freedom the Starry-Eyed says that the bird desires, and so freedom it will have. With a twitch of his feathers, the peacock turns his gaze from Africa to the morning dove and the cage dissolves. Where it once stood, there is left only a bird, fluttering its wings and going to join its brethren. Its happy coos fill the cave and it dances in the air a few moments before settling on a ledge with some others. She said he had wished for freedom, and so it was freedom that he received. Her wish is the birds command.
Come along, he decides at last, leading her deeper into the cave. The spring sun can no longer light the way here, but glowing plants reminiscent of those in the Heart Caves provide illumination instead. The psittacines still line the walls of the cave here, chirping and chattering, but one sun conure sits in a corner all alone. His yellow feathers seem dull and he sings no song. His lifeless eyes look around, longing for something but he has no voice to say what it is he needs.
And that one? The peacock queries, his crimson gaze returning to the gray mare. What does this one desire? What does she see in him? Do her memories in this cave affect her answers? Does her depression make her blind or open her eyes? But then, the bird is curious for something else, too. How does this mare affect what her companion sees? Turning to Silas, the peacock makes the first noises he has made since Africa arrived. He clacks and chortles through his beak, the sounds unintelligible to Africa but decipherable to the zephyr. What does your brother wish for? The same question to two separate entities. Will their answers complement or clash with one another? The mysterious peacock waits.
12-16-2014, 07:07 PM (This post was last modified: 12-16-2014, 07:08 PM by Africa.)
Solemn gaze wandered after that of the fair Peacock when it turns towards the caged dove. Long lashes peeled apart rapidly, both startled and relieved as the steel vanished altogether and the bird fluttered free, before moving to join its colourfully cloaked kin upon a stone ledge.
Africa’s own quills and the empty follicles between prickled with pleasure, and a broad smile danced delightedly through her expression. Oh thank you! lips parted to cry, but the strange voice had already, once again filled her mind. The Peacock stepped away and the one-winged mare (with the zephyr aboard), travelled behind still deeper into the darkness.
Though parrots still squabbled and gossiped along the cold walls of the cave, she could no longer see them so clearly; could not draw their bright colour out of shadow. Small lamps cast a cool, subtle glow around them and on closer inspection, Africa found them to be delicate fungus like those in the beautiful underground forest below The Sanctuary. She could not recall them from when last she crawled through these depths, though she dared not dally to try. Again their journey came to a halt, and concerned eyes found the small figure of a conure nestled alone in a crook. She strained to observe him – quite opposite to those raucous cousins surrounding.
Their guide asked her about him. She thought suddenly to ask why all of these parrots were not basking in the sunlight, chewing timber and spreading wide their wings. It seemed so unnatural and absurd that they lined cave walls like night-loving bats. She stepped nearer to the small sunset bird, tracing its motionless, dejected silhouette with sympathetic eyes. She looked to its face, gazing into eyes that seemed hardly alive. Emotion swept through her core; loneliness, emptiness, all of which had possessed her when she had entered these tunnels such a long time ago. Is this how forlorn she had been?
Thoughts turned to Silas, her bonded – her strength and her heartbeat. They had emerged seasons later virtually as one, eager to begin a fresh chapter. They had never been truly apart since... Africa could not imagine her life without her other half.
A purpose... a family. The zephyr answered the Peacock’s spoken query, clever, nocturnal eyes picking his face easily through the darkness. What value is the life of a bird without a mate to preen, build a nest with, roost with and nurture young beside. I would think my brother here would like a mate. Don’t parrot’s form life-long bonds? All should have sounded to the distracted mare like only a muddle of clacks and murmurs. Neither he nor the pallid fowl shared psittacine blood with the conure, but he imagined any avian sought the same path to companionship from birth.
Though Silas knew well that he would never see nestlings of his own fledge, the passion and love shared between himself and the one-winged mare was enough to fill and satisfy his soul. Beak clacked shut and the elaborate crest descending his star-glittered neck flared fervently. He would have it no other way.
Golden light, warm contentment and affection tingled through both Africa and Silas, and the thoughtful grey shuddered visibly, a smile rising through the air of concern. "...and sunlight." she suggested as though adding extra to an answer she had already given; resolve spewing avidly through a lifted, secure tone.
Interestingly, it is the zephyr that is the first to answer, the first to give voice to the desires of the solemn conure in the corner. The peacock ruffles his feathers, crimson eyes studying the zephyr as he speaks. The peacock enjoys the gentle clicks and clacks of the creature’s beak, his gentle voice in the cave, sounding like some mysterious creature clicking in the darkness. Thoughtfully, the master bobs his head a few times in and out, ambiguous as to whether he is simply acknowledging or actually agreeing with the words of the mythic beast.
And sunlight, the mare adds, and the peacock ruffles his feathers gently. Suddenly there is sunlight in the cavern, though it is not entirely clear where it radiates from, filling every crack and crevice. The yellow light is warm, inviting, and the conure visibly brightens. From the corridors beyond comes another yellow bird, matching in beauty, carrying a wad of young twigs and corn silks in her mouth. She lands beside the previously lonely bird and together they begin to work some of the twigs and silk into something resembling the beginnings of a nest. A full nest will take much longer, but as the two cuddle together and chatter, the peacock begins to waddle off. He has no time to waste watching the courtship of these two soul mates.
So, he leads Africa deeper into the cavern, into the deepest recesses that she might very well remember from her days of sorrow. Neither sunlight nor parrots rest in the deepest portions of the cave where the peacock finally stops. Only the gentle green glow of the luminescent moss allows them to see now. And you, he says finally, after what might have seemed like eons of him staring at her. What is it that you want? He allows his words to enter Silas’ head as well, curious to see the way the two work together.
Surely her desires will be well beyond his capacities to provide, and yet… perhaps he can help her, in some small way.
12-23-2014, 01:00 PM (This post was last modified: 12-23-2014, 02:04 PM by Africa.)
Sunlight still brighter than a Tallsun noon seemed to burst through the, cold, dark underground and Africa’s skin tingled with joy. At first pastel eyes burned, forced to shelter between shutting thick lashes, but she was no creature of the night – she cherished His sun, the warmth and the light. Silas however ducked rapidly his small skull beneath one lifted wing, shielding his sharp eyes from the sudden assault of daylight. The valiant zephyr had been fashioned for the night, cloaked in the soft-shimmer of starlight, and he could hardly bare the intense change as it exploded around them. The dappled mare felt the grimace strike her heart, the pain sear her mind and turned before following the Peacock from the conure’s lit sanctuary, to view her stunned bonded.
Lone wing lifted stiffly from her flank (it was seldom extended these days, useless in a sense), and angled upwards, backwards to shield her friend. As the dim shade fell across him, violet eyes peeled tentatively apart and Silas shuffled with a careful grip upon her spine to nestle down in the dip of her back where the sparsely feathered appendage cast the deepest shadow. He thanked her silently, feeding their bond with affection and gratitude.
Hard hooves clicked loudly against the stone as she passed behind the regal Peacock at last into chilling darkness that brought back a flood of hard memories. So many weeks had been spent in the murky depths, these depths - sorrowful and forlorn, and the haunting silence unsettled her deeply. Times long behind you, her bonded soothed, chest rattling audibly and Africa nodded, heartened by his confidence and the truth in that thought.
The vibrant, raucous chatter of parrots was no longer, and though she missed awfully their bright, endearing company, her heart held not the same crippling loneliness, blindness, that had been during their last stroll through the black. Their guide halted, and the cool glow from the soft moss touched walls barely gave enough warning. The birds gloriously long, white feathers bounced just above the ground and Africa staggered to a standstill when finally her eyes found them suddenly, almost beneath her step. Silas lurched forward with splayed wings but held well his balance irrespective. The primordial voice again filled the mind of both zephyr and Pegasus, and Africa’s slim, pale face skewed off centre as she was touched by his unnerving stare.
Silas was a swift thinker, intelligent and cunning; a predator in the natural world that held little validation for reason or consideration. He wasted no time when it came to decision making and judged those who came into contact with his beloved quickly and boldly. Africa on the other hand was a romantic, often led astray by fanciful ideas and wishful dreams. The one-winged mare was very readily distracted and pondered thoughtfully and diligently any questions come to light. She sought desperately the best from those around her, and hurt gravely when the hearts she cherished were weakened with despair.
Throughout the course of her life, she had drifted from the path she had so desired to follow (peace, humility), and so there were a great many things she wished gravely for now. Silas clucked audibly as he considered the question. His feathers were smoothed by then along his body, content and comfortable with the strange company they had adopted, and shining eyes (black in the darkness) were trained to the Peacock. The one-winged mare turned her face upon a bent neck, craning to be nearer to her beloved companion. What would you want, Silas? The zephyr’s hooked beak turned swiftly, clever eyes meeting her focus with a calculated, questioning glare.
Only very recently, Africa’s life had begun to shift – for the better. The woes that had plagued her for months (at least since the time they had spent in The Sanctuary) seemed to be dissolving from thought and opportunities – some of which she might never have expected in this lifetime, were coming to fruition. She could think of very little to compliment her fortune in truth. As it were, their present journey had enlightened her considerably. It had brought to the forefront of her mind memory of the electric, blue mare Ampere, her fellow Sultana - ‘What right do you have to take his life? What right does anyone have?’
At the time, the dappled mare had been confused and startled by the rash beliefs purged so passionately by the Mother of Companions, but now, as visions of Neve and Fina, fire and ice nestled close together passed before her eyes along with the conure and the dove, Africa felt grave longing for her bonded.
"I would like nothing more, than for Silas to have freedom..."
Silas cawed softly, and reached daringly and affectionately to grasp her mane between flame. He did not freedom, he was not trapped.
"Perhaps then someday a partner, true avian companionship, because a Pegasus is a cumbersome mate for a bird." Africa chortled softly. She had seen on many occasions the interest he had shown in fiery Fina, but alas she was aloof most times and surely dangerous to touch if ever the chance had been given. Thoughtfully then she glanced back to the Peacock.
Eons seem to pass as the peacock waits for his answer and he almost seems to grow bored, his eyes looking all over. But he is not looking around because he is bored. He looks around because he is thinking, pondering, wondering what it is that she wants that makes her think so hard about herself. When she finally answers, he knows why he has felt this nagging sensation that he will not be able to help her. She knows as well as he does, for she really must know, that if Silas were to have his freedom he would also have death. Still, there must be something he can do…
Africa offers a different idea then, and the peacock hems and haws about it in his mind. Companionship for Silas? He thinks about it. But he knows that what she asks for this time is also something he cannot provide. He can provide many things, be he cannot conjure a mate out of thin air. It appeared he did for the conure, but the conure had already known who his soul mate was and the peacock had only helped them along. He cannot imagine a love and then create it, he cannot know what Sila needs and then pull it from nothingness. He cannot give her what he asks for, but he can give her something else.
The strange sunlight returns to the cavern, but this time the origin is clear. Africa’s body glows brightly, warming her to her very soul, and the peacock seems to smile somehow, despite having a solid beak. You will find your soul more receptive to the gifts of the gods now. Perhaps you can use this gift to find the happiness you feel your companion deserves. Abruptly, the light cuts off, and the peacock is gone. When Africa turns to leave, she will find no trace of the parrots that had led her into the cave or that had lived within it. The peacock is a strange creature indeed, but he has only meant the best for the one winged pegasus.
Congratulations! Africa has been given a genetic mutation to have three active magics!
The Peacock’s unusual scarlet eyes roamed from the couple, the bird and the mare, but the Starry-Eyed remained oblivious. Her focus had centred on her companion who was touched by her consideration and care, but thought little of her idea that he should find greater happiness with a mate of his own kin.
By nature zephyrs were private, solitary nomads who soared for months on end with little contact with the earth – of course they needed to hunt or forage, but in general they were seldom seen. Silas was more than content with the bond shared with his beloved, they were inseparable and he tended to her with all the devotion he might give to any Roc mate. It seemed too that the magnificent bird paused before them understood this on some deeper level; the star-glitter zephyr had neither the time or interest to pursue such a consuming venture.
Fina was fascinating, beautiful indeed, but they were mismatched.
Africa shifted as her bonded’s thoughts tangled through her own, confused because in spite of their intricate relationship (without him there would be nothing, death, surely), there was another who tempted her heart and tickled her fancy. Perhaps it was that the equines were communal species, they craved herds and families instinctively; they were in fact the polar opposite of zephyrs. The dappled mare sighed pensively and passed her eyes across the glowing walls of the dark cavern. What could she possibly ask the generous Peacock for then? To her relief the bird’s ancient tongue grew through her mind again.
In the same moment, her body seemed to heat, her blood to boil – a sensation that perhaps one might feel if they were to sip the molten lava pooling in the heart of Helovia; she was aglow too, sunlight bursting form every orifice. There was no pain however, and her still slim frame shuddered visibly with pleasure. Silas, startled from his post, hovered by the cold, damp stone ceiling and watched in cautious wonder as his beloved was touched by the warmth of magic for the second time in as many weeks – the Earth too had gifted her special power to heal. Almost as quickly as it had swept through her however, the glow vanished and her core cooled immediately with no ill effect.
Eyes still a little glazed and drunk turned towards the Peacock and a smile was rising through her expression... but he was gone, vanished, and Africa jumped with surprise. Where is he? she asked Silas whose claws had returned to caress the dappled pelt pulled across her hips, but the zephyr could not answer, the bird had simply disappeared amid the nearly blinding flash, before the darkness had settled again around them. The one-winged mare shivered, turning, glancing all about the room. As they crept at last back up the tunnel toward the daylight, they found no trace of the parrot flock – all was eerily quiet.
"Thank you..." she whispered into the chill air, almost certain it had not all been just a dream.
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