"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.
And the stars are exploding in your eyes It won't be long until you're running
Ash and charcoal is spun on a pedestal of thin bones and gangly limbs, melted over twisted sinew and ineloquent muscle, and in the cold winds of the north this iron figure (normally bold, brazen, vibrant, alive) appears hardly more substantial than a wraith; one as like to drift away in the breeze as to haunt the desolate reaches of the world. The halo of fractured ice and wind-drifted snow pressing in around a narrow silhouette—sharp shoulders and hooded eyes and a smooth, breathtakingly straight profile—only enhances the reality of the vision, only reinforces the nerve-jangling image of a ghost borne upon turbulent gusts of air; but to what end, to what purpose? It is true that she, precious daughter of flame and death, bone and scale, breathes fragile life into a dull and thick reality, stirs the cumbersome boredom of subdued regularity into eccentric mystery and exotic unknown; but why she has been stolen here, she did not know. It hadn't been of conscious choice—she had simply come, listened to the mourning song of the wind and been borne north on the zephyrs, all tangled hair and weak-kneed limbs tossed into a desolate wasteland.
Nymeria breathes, and it hurts. To someone so new to the world, so young and childish, it was difficult to understand the pain which burns through her lungs and freezes her saliva and even the snot which had begun to trickle from her ebon nostrils; to understand why the frigidity existed here, and not in the heat of the south, or even why the world become so blindingly white this far away from her home. And yet forth she marches, because permeating the frost-bitten air is the siren call of her twin, the faintest of scents lingering in her charcoal nostrils, an aroma which pierced her to the very heart. Brother.
How could she resist following him, resist him?
He meant more to her than even mother, or the distant and guarded figure of father of which she had observed only briefly; he was her and she was he. Before brightness and the blinding light of the sun, they existed in wholesome entirety together, a final and absolute togetherness that she mourned the loss of; it hadn't even been they, in the darkness of their mother's womb. It was simply an existence utterly and wholesomely united, with two heartbeats and two bodies, both woven together so delicately that every breath without him was torment beyond explanation. She wonders, for a precious heartbeat, if he feels the same way; if Volterra, too, physically aches to be separated from his twin, and wants with every fibre to be with her. And then cold and wind-numbed lips curl into a light smile, even though there is no-one for her to smile for, because she knows utterly that he certainly feels the same way. How could he not?
Eyelashes flutter, dance, over ruby retinas as the sun slips awkwardly downwards from it's perch high in the sky, a yellow eye that is unable to retain a hold on it's blue nest. The spider hopes it will not disappear too quickly; she doesn't fancy trying to find mother again in the dark with only the stars to guide her. Mother would be (or at the very least, pretend pretentiously to be) furious at her quiet taking-of-leave, but it couldn't be helped. For all her dam's preaching, Nymeria knows that Confutatis wanted courage and strength and fierce wills and wild children not afraid of working to get what they wanted; she knows it would simply d e l i g h t the World Eater to awake and find her twins disappeared. Oh, she would worry; but mostly, she would be wickedly eager to find out the mischief they had been up to. And so if the spider found wanderlust taking hold, wander she would, because there was nothing to stop her.
North, north, north she waltzes, and with every step the snow grows deeper and she grows colder. The wind is in a frenzy, whipping her bare flanks and sheering icy flakes into her eyes, painting frost on her shoulders and hips and long, long lashes. Shiver and quiver she does, for she hasn't the fat of even a yearling; she is all sharp bones beneath irregular, scraggly hair and a tufty tail.
Finally, the little ghost-girl can take it no longer.
She breaks into the tumbling, inelegant run of a filly, bolting towards the strange and archaic structure she spies on the horizon, and into the depths of the ice fortress she goes.
Hooves clatter on a glassy floor.
Steam curls up from a sweating body. Home for the night.
@[Ophelia], @[Volterra]
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
Two bodies with one mind. One soul in two sparrowlike chests. For nigh on a year, they had shared a womb, curled up like kittens in the warm moisture of their home, pushed into the world together, inhaling their first breath of the same air. Nymeria received the lion's share of nature's gifts - magic, a dragon given to her right after birth, utter devotion from her brother - whereas Volterra was left to rue the queer quirk of fate that left him as second best. He is jealous, yes, but he does not resent her. How could he? He adores her, perhaps far more than should be strictly healthy. He loves Ma, of course, and has a passing interest in the shadowy memory of their sire, but each of these relationships pale in comparison to that which he shares with his sibling.
Which is why, more than once, he's contemplated 'accidentally' trampling the black egg that's so precious to his twin. Because he loathes the idea of sharing her with another, especially in such an intimate way as his father was bonded to the green dragon, and Ma is bonded to her Mongrel. She is his, and infantile anger burns through him at the idea of her being taken away from him.
After the meeting with Auriel, he had begun to wander the snowy wasteland back to Ma and Nymeria. He hadn't been particularly hasty about it, though, dragging furry fetlocks reluctantly and petulantly across the snow, putting off the moment he would return to a scolding for disappearing. Of course, Confutatis would probably be secretly proud of her son for his sense of adventure, but that doesn't make her teeth hurt any less when they snap onto slender flanks in punishment, nor does it ease the sting of her corrosive magic against tender flesh. So he is taking as long as possible, enjoying his freedom while he can, although he hates being away from Nymeria for so long - that and that alone makes him contemplate moving a tad faster.
As it is, he doesn't need to. He sees her in the distance - a blur to the untrained eye, but his eyes have long since developed to seek out her grullo frame no matter the miles between them - and loses no time in releasing a joyous whinny, tufty tail slapping his thighs as he breaks into a gangly gallop. The compacted snow is slippy beneath his feet, and he slaloms towards her with hardly any control - he scrabbles and digs his hooves into the hard moisture to gain enough purchase to propel him after his twin. "Races!" he squeals joyously, ears blown slick against his head with how fast he likes to think he's going. That is, until his fawnlike legs strike a particularly deep snowdrift, and he's sent head over heels into a crumpled, undignified heap with a loud oof. He ends up sat on his bottom, limbs twisted and tangled and a look of dazed delight on his young features as he gazes adoringly after his sister.
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ] [ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Mind weighed heavily with doubts, she strode elegantly back to her home, the siren's call of the mountains singing to her longingly. There, within the confines of winter's palace, she found prosperity and hope - a future. Never before had a herd felt so freeing without being confining, for her independence was highly valued, and she held power to live comfortably alone. However, she was pleased she did not have to, not anymore. Cloven hooves, cradled by snow, lightly padded past the cave of ice, a place which held such rich and intimate memories.
There, Mauja had burned, and she prayed for healing magic lest he succumb to fever and death. Tor had come to his aide, her once best friend. Strange, dual colored eyes glanced into the dark mouth, haunted by her own memories as she relived the breathy words he spoke and the betrayal of Tor. Her heart ached at the loss of her friend still, now disappeared into oblivion, most likely dead. Osiris too was lost, another heartbreak wrapped in wizened yellow eyes and thick, earthen fur. Ophelia owed her relationship with Tinek to Osiris and Comadre, the black dragon having taught Tinek the ways of his kind.
A puff of white powder snapped in her periphery, and she roughly inhaled the ice around her, trying to catch a scent of the movement. Ophelia's strange, dual colored gaze scanned the horizon, shapely ears tipped forward as she searched. Ah, but she had to look down. There, tumbled in a snowbank was a fluffy colt, caked in white snow and looking rather pleased with himself, and despite her worry, a smile crossed her lips. What were they doing in this treacherous weather? Where was his mother?
Her stomach lurched as her eyes saw the other one, a twin. A skull-faced mask could only have been passed down by one, cruel and nasty mare, and Ophelia struggled to keep her emotions in check. What had she said not so long ago? Children do not deserve to bear the sins of their parents? Oh, but this child did not seem so independent so much as a reincarnation, doomed with blood and body to follow along the same darklit path. Ophelia paused, struggling with two factions of her soul.
She settled tenuously on compassion, aware that she would be burned. The pale princess approached, a warm smile on her mousy lips despite the worried crinkles at her dual colored eyes. Tinek, aware of the tension, circled from his heavenly perch and tumbled headlong into the snow, leaving a wave of white cascading around them. His silver head popped from the ground and he grinned a toothy, dragon's smile. "Are you playing tag?" she asked softly, never speaking down to the children. How could you expect them to rise if you stifled their intelligence with your own words?
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
There were times when Ktulu absolutely hated the cold and this was one of them. It was Birdsong and she'd already begun to shed her winter coat for one that was favorable to the warming climate of the Edge. She was very unlike her sister who had become accustomed to the northern climate and was far more suited to weather it. The wind lifted her mane, chilled the flesh that had been protected by the layer of hair and made Ktulu shiver. She frowned and snorted, glared at the fogged breath that floated before her dark face then began to wonder why Ophelia felt so at home here. It was quite strange considering that they had both been born on the beach and she began to wonder if they had stayed in Isilme if they would have stayed on the beach, loved the warm salty air, and loathed the cold and everything that came with it.
Several feet ahead of her Eytan plowed through the snow, his coarse hair protecting him from the chill. It became apparent to Ktulu that, perhaps, just this one time she was an idiot. The dark mare snorted again then called upon the magic that she scarcely used and allowed her body to shift until she was covered by a thick layer of fur. It was noticeable just how much warmer this form was compared to the other. Eytan had paused and looked back to his bonded and watched as her body changed into one that mirrored his own and he growled his approval.
The pair continued onward with no particular destination in mind, just the objective of exploring a part of Helovia that remained very foreign and alien to the both of them. Somewhere ahead she could hear a voice but she paid it little mind, thinking it to be one of the Basiners milling about in the territory that could be considered their backyard. Ktulu would have continued to ignore it were it not for Eytan saying a name that made her stop in her tracks. 'Phelia.'
Her pale sister blended easily into the snow, all except for the bloody tips of her hair. To anyone who happened to glance it would probably just look like blood stains on the snow. 'Little ones.' Ktulu had already made up her mind that she would be heading down to greet Ophelia so she was unconcerned with Eytan's update of their being little ones with her. The Constrictor was fairly confident that her sister would recognize her because even though she looked like a great, hulking beast of a bear she still retained her red eyes and she still had the bronze markings on her shoulder and back, though they were thoroughly distorted. Then there was Eytan who trailed only a few paces behind her. Ktulu announced her arrival with a low rumble, sparing only a glance at the foals.
And the stars are exploding in your eyes It won't be long until you're running
The wind howls in her ears, a romantic notion she quite likes. It’s calls to her, singing forgotten and lost stories, curling longing fingers through her mane and kissing her muzzle, cheeks, eyelids. A lover’s embrace; a sweet serenade.
His voice cuts through it all like a knife through a finger, sharp, clean, and brutal. As she draws near to the arching palaces of the Frozen Arch, the icy halls of the unknown, the little waif reluctantly slows, petulance drawn in the tightness of her arched neck and the stiffness around her eyes. Hooves skip, dance, beneath her as she shuffles her feet (elegant for all her inelegance) turning to face her brother, but unwilling to halt. With the sweat dampening her charcoal cost and her skin warm and soft over sharp bones, old instinct murmurs to her to keep moving, lest she stop and freeze into an obsidian statue. Now that—that would be rather unpleasant.
A smile crinkles up ashy lips, the wind snapping at her mane and tail, as her dearest clumsy brother thunders towards her, big hooves smashing through thick snow and white slicking up his legs, flakes of winter thrown up by his vigor. They’re so different, and yet the very same, borne from black ash and pale bone and smouldering flame, descendants of war and destruction and doomed conquests. She can’t even claim surprise to see him here; it’s simply… natural to see him around. Even with all the leagues of Helovia, Nymeria cannot imagine them not being together, of being lost to one another. Maybe it was as mum said: blood calls to blood.
Letting her mind wander astray for a moment, the Dragon Daughter turns her vermilion gaze away, letting scarlet and cardinal wash over her newfound discovery.
Arched glass curls over her head, translucent, gilded, stuff she doesn’t quite understand. It’s pretty; a kaleidoscope of colors—pale silver and faded yellow sunlight, dappled blue and sapphire, indigo and cobalt. They dance in the faint and shifting shine from the outside world, glittering with a thousand tiny details her eyes are not sharp enough to see or understand.
Whomph. Skull-painted head snaps back to see Volterra go tumbling, a ball of black and silver and a smeary glimpse of red, and she giggles, unable to bridle back the amusement bubbling her chest. Forward she bobs, bouncing across snow with the clumsy legs of a child, shivers wracking her delicate frame. “Volt,” she snickers between chattering teeth, “how you can race me if you cwan’t even stand up?” Yet even for the cattiness purring through her adolescent chirp, she, too, can’t quite disguise the love, the adoration, the veneration reverberating through her bodice.
A flash of wheeling silver overhead catches her ever-changing attention, a glitter of ivory with the faintest hue of blood. Lips part gently, upturned eyes widening minutely in an expression of sheer wonder at that lissome figure carving downwards; a dragon. Spirit soars in imminent adulation, awestruck by the vaguely feline shape, lightness abruptly dashed as he goes tumbling into the snow. Skip, skip, skip, she bounces forwards with a worried exuberance, peering out into the snow (ignoring Ophelia in entirety) until Tinek pokes his head up through the drifts. Oh. A little smile curls up her dark lips in return to his wide grin, and she gives a little crowhop of elation.
And then Ophelia’s voice ruptures a moment of sweet, unfiltered adoration, and Nym’s delicate, distinctly foal-like head curves towards her, tiny nostrils quivering as she drinks in the scent of winter and cold. Evanescent orbs make quick route over slender hips, thin horn, slim profile. Beautiful. A sparkle of admiration glows in her eyes; she hopes she’s that pretty when she’s all grown up.
“Bro, gwet up,” she hisses over a shoulder, casually kicking out (rather admirably awkwardly) in direction of Volterra. “We got… com… compwiny.” Thick lips struggle over the word, unfamiliar and unwieldy between tongue and the roof of her mouth.
“Maybe,” she announces to Ophelia, with a little wag of her brows. “Mwaybe not. Haven’t decide yet. Stupid bro fall over before we start tag.” Another laugh, accompanied by a coy smirk. He won’t be forgetting that anytime soon—clumsy bum! Head turns, peering over her shoulder with batted lashes, checking on Volterra.
When she turns back again, one tiny hoof propping up beneath her, rose eyes nearly bug out of her head. There before her is a big, big, big furry something smelling like blood and bruises and earth, accompanied by a smaller, smaller something that smells like damp mud. Jaws gape wide in shock as she sizes up the massive predator lumbering towards them, heinous teeth and wiggling black nose and furry ears, and then with a cry of utter shock and terror she darts towards her twin, trying to nestle in behind him for protection.
Maybe she wouldn’t hear the end of this, but there was no way she was waiting out there in the open and not with Volterra when that T H I N G comes towards them.
@[Volterra]
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
Snow fills every orifice and chills him to his core, but he cares little. His sister is beside him, and when she is close to him he feels complete, weather be damned. "It'd be too easy if I stood up. Gotta give you a chance." He flashes her a toothy, boyish smirk, gangly limbs untangling and unfolding as he slowly elevates himself again, shaking off the snow that coats him but giving the smallest of shivers as the frost spreads through his sodden fur to his very bones. But he cares nothing for his own state, because he sees Nymeria wracked with shivers too - immediately he is by her side, aiming to jostle his broad shoulder against hers and pull her close, to lend what warmth he has to her.
After all, he would gladly freeze to death if it meant his twin survived, without a second thought.
His attention is suddenly snatched by a flash of silver and red, scales and wings, splashed ivory. A magnificent silver dragon skids through a snowdrift, and a whinny of pure unadulterated delight flees the colt's windpipe as he dives closer, careful not to fall over again (because falling over once is bad enough, twice and he'd never live it down). "So shiny," he gawps, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the sight of the glorious creature. Many foals would perhaps be afraid of a scaled carnivore coming within a ten-foot radius of them, but not Volterra, not the dragon prince. He is obsessed with them, ever since his father's green tied an amulet into his mane with dextrous fingers and handed Nymeria the black gift that will change her life. He does not want his sister to bond because he fears she will favour her dragon over him, but selfishly he wants to bond with every ounce of his heart. Until that day, he is honour-bound to act like a complete fanboy around every dragon he claps eyes on.
He gives a muffled oof as his twin's carelessly-flung hindleg clips him on the flank, but the stab of pain is completely ignored in his desire to get close to the silver dragon. The creature is joined by a mare, all pale fur and crimson tips, and she, too, receives a healthy dose of admiration from the young titan. He is, of course, unaware that she is blood - to him she is simply a pretty unicorn mare with an even prettier silver dragon. "Your dragon's really pretty, miss! He's even bigger than our Pa's! Can I pet him?"Kisses on a dragon! He's only assuming the dragon is a he - unlike Cynder he has a certain masculine energy, although for all Volterra knows he could be a girl as well and that would be awkward. He wants to touch those gleaming silver scales, see how solid they feel beneath his dextrous and sensitive lips; he is, after all, extremely taste-and-smell orientated, and finds he can paint the best picture of something when he puts his mouth to it.
The mare asks if she can join, and the youngling's head nods so hard it almost falls off. Having an actual adult with a dragon join in their games? Hell to the yes! But before he can respond, a veiled insult comes from Nymeria, and the colt's lower lip ejects into a forceful and bratty pout. "Hey! It wasn't a fall, it was a...stylish lie-down." Because he had totally meant it, of course. Bloody gaze turns back to the unicorn and Tinek, deciding it's only polite to introduce themselves, too. "I'm Volterra! This is my twin, Nymeria. As you can see, I got all the looks in our family." He puffs himself up proudly, sending a sly side-eye towards his sister whilst subtly edging away in anticipation of a nip.
His sensitive nostrils are suddenly assaulted by the thick musk of a predator - a smell that he has not yet encountered, but which is hardwired into his brain. Years of a herbivore's natural instinct passed down through the generations, telling him that this massive brown beast and its slightly smaller brown friend spell danger. The larger bear possesses red eyes, like him, which makes it look all the more terrifying, and this time when the colt shivers it's nothing to do with the cold. He hears a squeak and sees Nymeria disappear behind him, and the youth puffs himself up despite the fear pulsing through him, standing tall and proud in preparation to protect his sister. To die for her, to become naught but meat in the brown bears' bellies whilst she hopefully seizes her freedom. "St...stay back!" he stutters, ears pinning and lips peeling in what he prays is a fearsome, domineering expression. He hopes the mare and her dragon will protect them, but doesn't count on it; why would she put herself in danger to save foals that aren't her own? Ma wouldn't do it. Survival of the fittest. So Volterra stands large and strong, resisting the urge to quake and preparing to die fighting, torn apart in a blaze of glory for the most important thing in his life - Nymeria.
@[Ophelia]
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ] [ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Ophelia watched the foals play with a smile on her lips, touched by the innocence and beauty of youth. Such a shame they had to listen to the vile poison of their mother's egotistical words in such impressionable ears - especially when they now had every path open and all manner of potential. She watched the boy admire Tinek, and she urged the dragon with a gentle push of her mind to stand still. "Absolutely," she responded, indicating he could pet her silver friend if he so desired. Cynder was a beautiful dragon and Tinek did like her; it was a shame that Tyradon had made such... poor choices. She rather liked her half-brother.
The little girl, those cruel eyes filled with such open adoration for her brother, made Ophelia's heart lurch in her chest. Looking at her was like looking at a copy of her mother, and she wanted nothing more than to step before the children and shield them from all evils. They deserved a chance to forge their own path, one unhindered by familial obligations. The chuckled as the girl ratted out her brother for falling, and she watched, stepping forward and leaning down to join them - face at their child-like height.
"There is nothing wrong with falling," she replied, strange, dual colored eyes sparkling with wisdom and love. Her heart opened despite herself, letting in their youthful exuberance. "Life's journeys are all about how you get back up on your feet. Getting knocked down is just a part of this world," she said quietly. Volterra introduced himself, and she nodded. "Well, you are quite handsome," she admitted. "But your sister also beautiful. I think you both are quite lovely."
She lifted her neck when the scent of a predator filled her nostrils. Without thought, she stepped in front of the children, guarding them with the breadth of her body. Ophelia heard the brave little bay urge the bear to stay back, but then she narrowed her eyes, catching the details on the creature and smiling. "Eytan!" she called, trotting forward. Tinek popped his head from he ground and cooed, prancing over to his bear friend and climbing up on his back - careful not to pinch too hard with his talons.
"Ktulu!" she called to her sister. She looked back at the two children. "There is nothing to fear. This is my twin, Ktulu," she introduced. "And she has a bear, Eytan." Phi stepped back toward them, smiling affectionately. "We were just about to play tag, Ktulu - care to join?" she asked her sister. Surely Ktulu would see the markings on their faces. She held back a step, leaning over to whisper in her sister's ear. "Son and daughter of Tyradon and Confutatis... I have little doubt."
Her warning issued, Phi jumped forward on long, slender and graceful limbs, bounding forward with decreased speed. "Aahhh I am it, you had better run!"
Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.
The young one's reaction to her were predictable, the girl hiding behind the boy and the boy posturing and telling her to stay back. Even Ophelia's reaction was predictable, but it wasn't long before her sister realized that she wasn't the predator that they all thought her to be. Eytan rumbled a happy greeting as Ophelia said his name first and then the bear ran forward to meet his silver friend. Ktulu, however, stopped her approach and eyed the two young foals, recognition dancing in the back of her mind. The skull faced little girl reminded her of Confutatis and that was enough to put a bad taste in her mouth, but resemblence alone was not enough to verify her suspicion.
Ktulu looked to her sister as she spoke of a game of tag, making her tilt her large head. "Tag?" Weren't they a little old for games? Unlike her sister, however, Ktulu had never been able to take to and want to nurture foals that were not her own. How could she turn down Ophelia's invitation to play, though? She had gone to the bitter cold north with the express purpose of finding her pale sister and she had. "I guess it wouldn't hurt." She finally agreed.
"Son and daughter of Tyradon and Confutatis... I have little doubt."
"Tyradon? I thought Confutatis might be the mother..." Leave it to their brother to choose such a disgusting mare to birth his children. Ktulu stepped back, teeth gritting as her body shifted itself back to its normal form. As it ended she snorted and shook out her mane, glancing to Ophelia as she declared herself 'it' and telling them all to run. Ktulu watched for a moment before bounding away from her sister.
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