"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.
"There's a reckoning a-coming
and it burns beyond the grave
its lead inside my belly
cause my soul has lost its way
Oh, Lazarus
How did your debts get paid
Oh, Lazarus
Why you're so afraid
When the fires
when the fires have surrounded you
with the hounds of hell coming after you
I've got blood, I've got blood
blood on my name"
Sunset in the desert was always beautiful, but this night the full flush of birdsong life and a cloudless sky gave it a special magnificence. Fingers of light stretched from the most Beloved Sun, reaching, caressing, to light the landscape on fire. The whole of the oasis seemed to burst with the warmth of the ethereal glow and all was hushed in reverence of the perfect picture. All except one. Thump thump thump thump thump thump. Pause. Thump thump thump. Pause. Thump thump thump thump thump. Pause. Megaera paced at the foot of the great Dragon’s Blood tree. So agitated was she that even her pacing could not find a steady rhythm. She would walk a few feet, pause, turn and go the other way and turn again, all the while moving about a small object that seemed to be both the center of her pacing and its chief interruption. She would pick it up, carry it for a while, and put it down again. She would turn it. Shift it. Kick it. Ignore it. All in a cycle that repeated to no discernable pattern. It seemed to flash when it caught the light, the bleached white surface of a bone in stark contrast with the torn and tattered black strip of cloth that dangled from it.
Until the previous day, both bone and ribbon had been tied tightly into the mare’s mane. There they had rested, nearly forgotten about for two and a half years, half of the young mare’s life until, in the heart of the Deep Forest she had caught them on a branch in a particularly thing bit of bramble and they had been torn free. She remembered pausing to consider leaving the small trinket behind but in that moment the sight of the seemingly insignificant memento had flooded Megaera with the memories of how she’d gotten it, of who she’d taken it from. So she’d brought it back here, hoping the safety of home would give her the peace of mind to decide. She had been sorely disappointed. And she paced, as she had been doing for hours, while waves of turmoil wracked her insides.
The bone hadn’t been clean and white when she had taken it…. It had been bloody and sharp, still clinging to a bit of skin and shaggy brown fur that matched the color of Megaera’s own hide to a striking degree. She remembered it only if flashes, brief glimpses that the trauma of the event allowed her to recall of what she had seen and done. He had goaded her, tortured her again and again with words even if he had never struck her himself (his sons, her brothers, had done enough of that). She was small, he said, and stupid and useless and alone, he said. Her mother was a whore who left her without a thought, he said, because she was ugly and stupid and small, he said. She should thank him, he said, for protecting her and raising her, for allowing her to live, he said. The filly had killed him. He had been getting old, else she, at two and a half years old, could never have taken him. Old and alone and so convinced that his daughter was weak and stupid an worthless that he had turned his back after that final sermon and never dreamed that she would strike him. She had. Again and again, even after the life she had smashed two hooves into his crushed face and she wailed and screamed with tears and rage. And she had taken a piece as a trophy, a badge, and left the country of her birth.
It had been easy to push those memories aside, to forget in light of everything that had happened in the time since she had first come to Helovia, even with this trophy hanging just out of her own sight. She had found a home here, been accepted and befriended and grown into a warrior of Dragons Throat. This morning, she had come back in hopes that it would calm her, but she had never felt more out of place. This desert, the oasis, the fire, Africa, Alina, and Hector, had all held her, helped her, And Gaucho, he more than any. He was her commander and savior, a mix of father and friend and kindred spirit who had accepted and forgiven her, but she had never told him this. Now that she was here, the little warrior felt small again. Small and soiled, like she would infect this beautiful place. When she had come here her heart had bet bitter and angry and suspicious, and here it had felt a warmth she had never thought to look for, but she surely didn’t deserve it.
She wanted to think she had changed and grown since then, that she wasn’t the same Meg who had crossed the Threshold. But she had kept the bone, hadn’t she? Even if had lain small and un-thought of she had still kept it close, and didn’t that mean she didn’t deserve this home? She was a murderer. How could she hope to guard her family against evil if that’s what she was? No matter her motive, when the rage and grief had cleared, she had had to call wheat she had done murder. To keep it was to hold on to anger, to hold a trophy was to boast of being a killer and a coward. That’s what she had done. You’re better than that now. the thought was true and good and precious but it seemed to be fighting a losing battle against grief and self-doubt. She had to keep it. Couldn’t let it go, Wouldn’t let it go…
NO! The spark kindled deep inside the little warriors heart and she fed it depreastly, willing it to spread. Meg had stopped her pacing, and stood rigid, glaring at the white gleam bone of bone on the ground before her. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon now and the spot beneath the Dragons tree was lit only by a hazy twilight and the western sky glowed a deep pink. Meg stood there, outwardly frozen but fighting fiercely with herself to build up her resolve. She was good, and her mind worked to believe it. Whatever she had done was over, was past. She could let go, move forward and her herd would be there. She would protect them and they could protect her.
She was Megaera. Warrior of Dragon’s Throat. Servant of the Sun. Daughter of Fire.
With a yell the mare reared, pawing fiercely at the air, and her black hooves came crashing down and a small shard of white that shattered, and suddenly it was day again. The light of the sun shone on the Oasis and did not come from the western sky but from Megaera. She gave light, was light. It engulfed her, illuminated all around her, and shot into the darkening sky, a pillar of light that must have shone for miles. The light lasted only two or three seconds before it diminished, shank and withdrew into the little brown mare that stood underneath the tree.
- - -
WC: 1271 Lyrics: “Blood on my Name” –The Brothers Bright Notes: BAM! Sunlight!! You’ll have the excuse the monstrous length, but ya know, emotions and backstory, etc. NO need to match, I sure as heck won’t xD. Anywho, anyone is welcome to join! Tags: @[Gaucho] - @[Voodoo]
GAUCHO
And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good
[That was so wonderful to read! <3 ]
Gaucho rarely slept. Even so, that didn't explain the exhaustion that had neatly settled in his bones. It didn't matter. It wouldn't ever matter. Protection of his herd - that was his chief focus and would remain that way even as his muscles gnawed at his mind to cease. To sleep. The black that lined his eyes seemed to spread outwards, causing his handsome features to appear even darker than normal.
And so it was not surprising that as dusk descended the Wildfire remained alert, watching over his herd. Some milled about, some lingered by the Oasis, but they were all more or less accounted for. Tandavi and Sacre had gone to the Basin with Voodoo. Alija had recently given birth, and his son still seemed to be distracted by something. Meg was ... pacing. He had noticed it (through Mara's projection) for a while now though thought nothing of it. Although Rasta's warning in his mind indicated that he should hang out with his herd more often, on this night he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too tired, too weary from ... Everything.
However even though the Wildfire couldn't see, he was not blind to the landscape. Suddenly light shone down upon them as if they were in the middle of a scorching Tallsun afternoon. With a whistle of confusion Gaucho rolled inwards, stealing Mara's eyes to look at his herd below. With one sweeping gaze everything appeared to be in order except.
Meg.
The mare had seemingly disappeared, although she had been beneath the Dragon's Tree only moments ago. In her place was a radiating ball of light, seemingly the cause for the disturbance. From the sand dune the Sultan was resting came a flurry of black and fire. Gaucho immediately took to the skies, dark appendages beating downwards to propel his body swiftly forward. Adrenaline combated his exhausted, and he moved like one who had slept well.
Sand sprayed as Gaucho's dark hooves found the sand. He didn't need to utilize Mara's eyes to know where his warrior stood, for her body was the source of the light and emitted no shadows as she was now. His stormy (though useless gaze) tried to discern what was happening. Was this the Sun God? Was this his doing?
"MEG." He commanded forcefully into the light, as if it was no more than a trance that could be broken by the sound of his voice. The Wildfire showed no fear, although he would prefer to not have to fight his warrior again should she prove to be possessed. Still, the Sultan's flaming wings remained outstretched from his flanks, regal crowned head raised. He was taller than the ball of light, but depending on the source of the magic that was inside of her that might not matter.
01-08-2015, 07:25 PM (This post was last modified: 01-27-2015, 02:49 PM by Voodoo.)
VOODOO && OUIJA I'm so happy 'cause today I found my friends
They're in my head
Light, everywhere, all around.. but from where? Panic invades your body like a flame to a stricken match, your dark legs which were folded under your lean body had scrambled to jump up. The white creature who holds your heart with little fuzzy paws stirs from a deep sleep as you rise in a hurry. "Stay here!" you huff, gravely voice falling on def ears while she quickly falls back asleep. Chipped hooves fall quickly on warm sands as your sleepy body pulses forward into the red and orange hued afternoon. Cresting a dune, you have to squint at the bright light, pupils dilating until they can no longer shrink.
"MEG." The voice belongs to a man that no one who resides in the Throat can misplace; Gaucho. He stands across across from you, cut off by a now dying light that is taking the form of a winged body. You blink rapidly, still moving toward the two who are near the undisturbed waters; dots ranging from large to small blind you until they are able to spread into the air like oil in moving water. Both red ears sit back against tangled hair while you begin to panic at the idea of being blinded for even a second. "What's happening?!" you call out for either of your higher ranked members to explain; the concern in Gaucho's voice has you shaken. A man of such power wouldn't regularly make a show out of nothing.
Your legs buckle finally, leaving you to stand diagonal to the woman who had just been light up, bright as the sun, and the man of few words. Ratty tail tucks uncomfortably between your legs as if someone were to come up and jump on your back without warning; something you've likely picked up from the fox who stays at your side every day. Dull eyes fall to the winged woman's feet, powder and shrapnel from the bone she had crushed scattered across the thin layer of sand. Concern washed over your dark face, emotionless eyes once more finding themselves on the woman of focus.
She heard the command like it were miles away, but her heart near burst with the need to answer. She couldn’t place a name to the voice but it pulled at her like nothing else could. She was Meg, and Meg answered when that voice called her.
Only seconds passed but it felt as though it could have been days, and the sun set again as the light inside her faded to let the twilight hold sway once more. The mare that was left in place of the light was a dark bay again and still, so still as her mind tried to work. She couldn’t make sense of what had just happened She’d been upset, yes that was it, so torn that she had thought her body might be wrested in two, but there had been something else, just before it had happened, a… a sureness. So she had called for help.
There it was. As muddled as she might be, she knew what she had felt as the light had burst from her, she had decided who she wanted to be and she had called for help. The call had burst from her, a beacon in the darkening sky, and somehow she had known that something, someone, would come. Slowly, Megeara turned her head, searching, and there he was. Gaucho was at her side, stunning and regal and strong. She knew then she was safe. Not her body, but her heart. And painful as they might have been, the memories and doubts seemed to shrink and shrivel and die in the light of this knowledge. She was Megaera and she was not alone. “Gaucho.” The whisper was barely audible, a reassurance only to herself that he was there.
Dazed hardly seemed to be the right word… Shocked…Stunned…Exhausted. Yes, she was exhausted whatever power had burst out of her had left her drained and disoriented, every sound now seemed muffled, every line blurred. She wanted to sleep, to collapse. Not in front of Gaucho, not in front of him. The thought was weak by it prevailed and the mare did not fall to a heap as her trembling legs seemed to wish. At a sound she turned her head again to see the darker stallion, nearly black in the dim light. “Sacre?” The voice was a bit stronger, but still confused, like the warrior had forgotten how to speak and a bit slow from a lack of energy. No, that wasn’t right was it? “No, I’m sorry, I...” The colt’s eyes were blue and these ones were much darker. She followed their gaze down, and the sight of the bone lying shattered in the sand brought back the rest of her tortured evening to mind, but she looked on it clearer now.
Her gaze flicked between the two stallions, uncharacteristically unsure what to say or what to do next. “Did you…Did you see that?” It was a hesitant question. It was a stupid question. Of course they had. But how much did she have to explain? She stopped for a minute to collect herself, to marshal her emotions. What would they expect after that? She wasn’t even sure how or why it had happened. It had felt something like the magic that Gaucho has given her, the Sun God’s gift, and even now she could feel it nestled quiet and dormant in her heart but fierce, also, and hot as any flame. “I needed help.” She finally settled on. It was the truth, as simple as she could make it, for them and for herself. “So I…I called.”
- - -
Notes: So I just realized that I never proof-read that first post… Woops!! Tags: @[Gaucho] - @[Voodoo]
GAUCHO
And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good
Gaucho's more-or-less blind gaze did not remove itself from the ball of light that was Meg, at the sound of Voodoo's approach, nor his question. It was not out of rudeness or a desire to dismiss the horned stallion's question, but an inability to. What is happening? Only the God's knew. Whatever Voodoo saw was the same as what Gaucho did (although the darker stallion in fact saw more than the dun did, for his vision wasn't currently marred as Gaucho's was). Gaucho's tail lashed as he held his position - wings still stretching from his shoulders valiantly.
Suddenly the night sky began to grow - as if whatever spell was slowly dispersing, or as if it was a cloth slowly being pulled back. Either way, darkness descended upon them all once again, making everything appear much, much darker than it had before the pulse of daylight. Mara's vision however was not impacted by this, and she viewed Meg as she was - weakened by the effort, but exhilarated.
Gaucho's dark ear flickered towards her as she spoke his name in a voice suggested that all was, at least on the surface, fine.
The light had obviously come from her ... but how? She did not possess the ability to turn night to day - or at least she hadn't when they last spoke.
She called the stallion at his side Sacre, obviously mistaking him for the other horned brother of the sands that he so resembled. Gaucho shook his antlered skull which glowed brightly in the darkening night. "Voodoo." He corrected, but gently. She was obviously weak, and the two ... well they did look fairly similar. Both had fox companions, even. The mistake was understandable.
"Yes we see. Night sky turned to day - and Meg was the day's sun. You burn brightly like the Sun God. Is this magic? You do this intentionally?" He concluded, wondering if what she meant by I needed help, was I used this to get your attention or I needed help and this just sort of happened.
Gaucho's darkened gaze relaxed somewhat and he let his flaming wings fall against his flanks, confident now that Meg was not in any further danger. At least, none that would require his strength.
Looking down at the bone in the sands, Gaucho snorted - the bone through his nose dancing slightly as he did so. His gaze rose as he repeated the same question that Voodoo had just asked: "What happened?"
“What Happened?” such a simple question but how far back should her answer go? There were parts that should could answered the what but still could not understand the why so what explanation could she give that Gaucho and the new stallion (Voodoo, was it?) could understand. Her body still felt tired but her mind was clear once more. Gaucho wouldn’t shun her, that surety came as a comfort and gave her the conviction to begin her tale.
The warrior looked down at the shards in the sand with a sigh and spoke with her eyes trained on them as if eye contact with the others would make her falter. She had accepted that she could let those parts of herself and her history go and allow herself to move forward with her life in the Throat, but she would still be ashamed of them. “I was angry, when I took it. I could have just run, but it been years of anger and shame and there was something in me that couldn’t let myself leave without confronting him, without killing him.” It was not the same need for absolution that had fueled her last confession, but and explanation for what was moving through her mind, like saying it all aloud would help her come to terms with it for herself.
“I took his eye like a trophy, like a badge of my own strength because it wasn’t self-defense, not in that last moment. All this time I’ve kept it close, kept that anger hard in my heart, all locked away.” That part was the worst, not what she had done but that she had done it to prove something to herself, and that regret stained the voice that spoke. The mare shut her eyes against the memories, shaking her head to clear it. She turned her gaze upward, find a few glimmers of stars between the branches of the old tree and forced herself to continue. “For my time in Helovia I nearly forgot. I didn’t think about what I had done or what that meant of me but I still kept this. It tore out yesterday in the deep forest, and for all my wanting to, I still couldn’t leave it behind.”
“I brought it here but it felt so wrong to see it on the sand.” She looked at her Sultan then, and he stood as he always had in her eyes, the pinnacle of strength and honor. “I nearly left. Because even after all that you and The Sun God and Dragons Throat have given to me, I wasn’t worthy to walk amongst you with what I had done and if I still clung to an old hate. But I could not. For your gifts were worth far more than anything I could have done.” And Meg grinned, an odd grin that bore a sadness along with the gratitude; a disbelief that she would be so blessed.
“Not with all the fortitude in the world could I have left this place, left you all. I couldn’t tell you why, but once that decision was made, I was surrounded by the light. Magic it must have been, it felt like what you gave to me, but… bigger? It just seemed to burst, though it was nothing I had looked for or known of.” And a deep laugh escaped her, in spite of all, at the memory of how the light had felt around her. “It burned, the light. White hot but I felt no pain. And the light was relief, like in it I knew that help would come, even before I knew it was needed.” She did her best to describe it simply, willing them to understand but even her description fell short.
- - -
Notes: Gaucho is Megs personal confessional, lolz Tags: @[Gaucho] - @[Voodoo]
GAUCHO
And I'd bring you further roses but it does you no good
The dun listened silently.
The story that Meg painted was one that sounded roughly familiar. It was a tale of strength and honour, retribution and grief. Her need to overcome and rise above that which held her down was a desire that resonated within Gaucho. For the strong creature that appeared to be now was a misleading tale of how he had come to be that way. Gaucho had not always been a leader, had not always been strong or clever. He had had to fight and kill and force his way to the top, and there he had stayed. But he had much on his side - muscles could be built over time, bodies conditioned and trained - but he was also several inches taller than Meg, and of a much more robust build. That was not to say that his Little Warrior's physique was not satisfactory. Indeed, she was fast and agile, brave and bold.
The story that dropped and unfolded from her lips did not diminish her good standing in Gaucho's mind. Everyone had skeletons in their closets, everyone had trinkets. That Meg had kept a physical reminder showed great endurance of her mind... Most could not handle the idea of keeping around any token or momento of the injustices and wrongs done to them. Unconsciously Gaucho's skin twitched. The coloured markings that danced across his hide shimmered for a moment as the starlight caught their palette, before falling into darkness once more.
Gaucho understood. He had his own reminders of his past.
As Meg described the magic that now coursed through her, burning and cleansing, the Wildfire smiled. He remembered the first time the Sun God's magic coursed through his veins - and not just his rank magic, but his magic. Given to him by the God. It was then that his devotion had stirred and cemented itself inside of his soul.
Would Meg find the same happening within her?
Gaucho bowed his head, dark ears sliding forward. "The light a powerful blessing from the Sun God."
Again the dun fell silent, wondering if there was perhaps more she would share. Old wounds for some were healed best with words, others with fire. For Meg, a combination of the two might be needed. Although for Gaucho words had never relieved his soul, he would not dismiss the power of her words. The story she expressed was not one to be taken lightly, nor would the Wildfire forget her words anytime soon.
"Can you do it again?" He asked after a time, referring to her new ability. She would need to be able to control it if it was to serve her in battle and in defence of the Throat. For now though, Gaucho was merely just curious.
01-27-2015, 02:48 PM (This post was last modified: 01-27-2015, 02:53 PM by Voodoo.)
VOODOO && OUIJA I can't drown my demons
They know how to swim
The sky burned the same pale orange and red hues once more while the sun left only a trace of it's glorious light over the hills, the beam that flitted around the warrior's dark body now soaked back into her very being. The three of you stood around, baffled by what had just happened (Gaucho's expression much less expressive than your own), the winged woman whispered for Gaucho, then turned her eyes that were hidden in the dark on you, "Sacre?-" before realizing that you in fact aren't the colt (who could be of your own blood), she apologized, Gaucho replacing the mistaken name for your own. Something about the great antlered man knowing your name makes you want to grin, but the corners of your lips fail to leave their tight state while you still concentrate on what was happening.
You had been exposed to magic before, but the woman didn't seem to be as fond of it as you had expected. She seemed tired, her voice weak and confused while she tried to shake the veil of discomfort from her mind. "Yes we see.-" You nod into the darkness, glossy eyes watching the fading silhouettes of your herd mates while the sun dips into his long slumber. "Night sky turned to day - and Meg was the day's sun. You burn brightly like the Sun God. Is this magic? You do this intentionally?" Your attention flits from the powerful leader, back to the woman who frantically tries to explain what and how this all came about.
While she speaks, you can't help but cringe at the horrific scene that she paints for the WildFire and yourself. Flames dance across Gaucho's solid body, faint lights shimmering off of his own pelt; you want to study them further, but you can't peel your eyes from the woman as she tells her sad story. You wonder who the man was that she had killed - maybe a past lover, a family member? Eventually the woman's wracked voice stops for a moment, her laughter filling the dark air between the trio; your skin crawls beneath thinning fur, unsure of whether the laughter was a good sign, or one that should make you turn and run.
In the back of your mind you can feel Ouija stir and mumble, but she falls back to sleep easily without a thought. “It burned, the light. White hot but I felt no pain. And the light was relief, like in it I knew that help would come, even before I knew it was needed." And help did come, in the form of the protector Gaucho, and then your misfit, awkward self. You can only imagine what you look like standing next to the Sultan. The flames along the primitive stallion's body become even more visible while he dips his antlered skull, claiming that the light was a gift from the Sun God himself. You watch him with interest, still unsure of exactly what to say to sooth the woman who you believe has so much more to say.
"I-I'm sorry.. Meg." But, for what? For the burden she packs on her shoulders every day? What could it feel like to kill and carry a piece of your enemy? Silently you drop your head, jaws clenching as you peer down at the splintered bone.. The bone that had once belonged to someone. "You're very brave." You finally state, raspy voice loud in the otherwise quiet night.
"Voodoo." 'Ouija.''Voices'
Sorry for the wait!
@[Megaera]
01-28-2015, 11:56 PM (This post was last modified: 01-28-2015, 11:58 PM by Megaera.)
Megaera
Megaera did need the words. Like with her return to the throat, the weight of guilt, the crippling weight of self-doubt, could only be lifted when someone else knew, when someone else understood. She was unequivocally a social creature. If her only outlet was her own mind, every bad feeling could only circulate and build inside her until she could confess it to someone she trusted. Only in the recitation or her demons could they begin to be vanquished; absolution through confession. She had been alone once. Though surrounded by those of her father’s blood, she had been alone and for that half of her life she had been stunted. One bee cannot build a hive; one wolf is not a pack; a single soldier can vanquish no army. . As strong as the heart of the shield maiden was, she needed her tribe. Later, Meg would thank every star in the heavens, every single one of those little guiding lights that had brought her here, for she could not have made it thought this night on her own.
Gaucho stood beside her. Gaucho. For the second time she had laid her heart bare to him and the great stallion and he had not turned her away. No, he did not reject her now, but his voice broke the silence and called her blessed. Blessed! The girl quaked at that sentence from him. Her gaze was rapt upon his face and even in the low light he shined in her eyes. Father he was like to her, protector and idol. He was the voice of their God, confessor and friend.
Unbelievable it might be, that anything could have torn Meg’s gaze from Gaucho, but it was her own name in the mouth of Voodoo that broke the reverie. “I’m sorry Meg. You’re very brave” Her head turned, and black eyes looked on the grulla stallion with as much wonder as she had the dun. All the love, the devotion that was in her was doubled. Only Voodoo stood in her sight, but as far as the mare was concerned he stood there as proxy, representing the entirety of Dragon’s Throat. The friends she had made and those she had yet to meet; the ground beneath her; every tree in the Oasis. Every dune and grain of sand; The Blood Tree and the Diviner’s Fire. She belonged to them now, just as much as they were hers. The Sultan had her love, but this land had her soul.
She looked between the two and had no more words, for none could express her gratitude. It would take her lifetime, but it was the only that she could give for what she was being given. A lifetime of repayment, service, protection and love. A life’s devotion from a little warrior.
She didn’t answer when Gaucho posed his question, but followed Voodoo’s gaze to the ground. The sight of the bone puzzled her now. Minutes ago it had been everything, so huge and important, and now it was only dust fading into the sand. Hesitantly, carefully she tested herself. One black hoof reached out from where she stood to drag through the spot. Some of the fragments shifted, a few drifted below the slow sweep of sand. She felt no pain to see them go. Once, twice, three more times, Megaera disturbed the sand until every piece had sunk out of view.
Over.
Done.
Gone
And in the absence of that burdensome sight the question came back to her. Could she do it again? It was exhilarating prospect and without thought she fell inside herself. In the others’ eyes should would only stand still and straight for those few moments, eyes closed and breathing even. In her mind and heart she ran, searching for that source, that pit of glorious flame. She found it in the very center of all she was, bright and hot and beautiful. Slowly, gently, Meg tried to coax it out but when it would not come she pushed. It started to give. Even on the outside, a dim glow began to emerge above her heart, Yes! It was coming!
NO!
She had pushed too far. She had called on energy and power when there was none to be spared. With a pained cry, a muffled scream cut short like her breath ran out, the mare crumpled. Her two front knees fell to the ground and she shook violently from head to hoof. A second passed as she struggled, then succumbed to exhaustion and let herself sink all the way down to the ground. Megaera felt like she could have sobbed, could have wailed and screamed through all the emotions of the past few hours but she was so tired now. Tears made their slow way down from her eyes and down past lips the trembled with every shaking breath. For several long minutes she made no sound or motion but a few ratting breaths. “Yes… I can.” Her voice, normally so sure and strong, was a faint whisper. “It’s there, I can feel it there….But not now…I cannot do it now.”
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