"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.
Battles won and battles lost, too many stood on the other side. Though Kiara and Rostislav emerged victorious, a slew of fighters were eager to take their place. Allies and enemies fell on either side until simply number decided their fate. A clear winner was in place: the World's Edge. To fight against these numbers would be ruinous, and thus a clear consensus decided for everyone.
Those of the World's Edge were allowed to move in unhindered, giving way for the new victors to speak their piece. The land belonged to the victorious, such was the way of the world.
I will give your heart a place to rest when everything you had has turned and left.
I'll weave your names into my ribcage; lock your hearts inside my chest.
Archibald looked up at the soldiers that surrounded him. Only a handful stood battered. The majority of his force had been untouched. A wave of disappointment, a familiar disappointment, calmed over his body. The last time he had invaded these lands, come bearing down as a hammer of new judgement, the results had been just as pathetic. Sighing, Archibald walked forward. His movements were strained and he moved with a noticeable limp. Ghost had done her work to his gaskin, and he would surely need to see a healer, but those around him--friend or supposed foe--needed it before him. Resplendence seemed to have the same mind, and the little healer called to the soldiers from a knoll above them. Archibald looked up to her, gold meeting gold, and nodded to her. Her soul was good, and this fight was not out of malice, so there was no need to reject due healing from anyone. The King walked towards Kahlua, gold eyes searching for her blue. The king moved in an attempt to sidle up next to the smaller queen.
The Dauntless let his gaze sweep over the land before his bellowing voice sounded from his pedestal. "The World's Edge is victorious in their conquer. This land, the Hidden Falls, is now under the leadership of the standing triumvirate. What was the World's Edge will come to live in these lands, protected cosmically by the Earth God. This invasion, this change of leadership, was not out of malice. It was out of necessity. Our triumvirate does not look to cast the members that defended this land, or the members that remain in the shadow, into the Wilds. If you wish to stay, we will allow it. But do not meet change with friction, for change will come."
Loretta moved to stand before Archibald, her body squared and chest held proudly, mirroring her bondmate. Archibald turned his head to Kahlua, then to Kaj in turn, to give them room to add more to his speech. Although his body was the one that conquered, this was as much their victory as it was his. The purpose, the truth, the driving force of their hearts had been won. Their herd, their family, their friends and children and brothers and sisters--all of them would be safe. Golden eyes sought out his friends, then, sweeping over soldiers to land on Lakota and Ktulu. Lakota seemed to be unscathed, but Ktulu was wearing the burden of war. A small frown tugged at his lips, and the Dauntless limped toward his Captain. As he moved, his eyes sought for Ophelia, but his mind reached for her. Ophelia. He repeated, his thoughts pulsating for the white and crimson Lady.
04-19-2015, 12:30 AM (This post was last modified: 04-19-2015, 12:31 AM by Ophelia.)
And when my sins are just a memory...
Ophelia’s teeth ground together in her anxious wait, only lifting her strange, two-toned gaze from Torleik’s neck when the sounds of scuffling stopped and the winner was obvious. She snorted in frustration through her mousy, gray nostrils, her shoulder still glued to Torleik’s muscular one. Frustration mounted, a nagging little bug of an emotion only satisfied by battle; she would have to spar someone soon to release this tension. As her gaze swept over the rest of her troops, she wondered if they felt like she did, irritated and uselessly standing around. They had come though, and she was proud of them for that regardless. Absently, she filed away a memory that she would need to thank them, gather everyone together once the snowy mountains of home encircled them in its chilling embrace.
Only a few were injured, but Ghost appeared to be hanging on by a thread. Ophelia felt no pleasure in her bloodloss. Though she could not get an accurate read on the mare – not without her magic – she was fairly certain that Ghost was misled into believing the lies about the Basin. When they had spoken, ever so briefly in the Threshold, she had seemed fine with Phi’s presence. Then again, most were fine until they learned she lead the Aurora Basin alongside Deimos. Something about the Reaper and the rest of the introverted isolationist inhabitants of her home set others on edge, but she had grown rather fond of them all. Ulrik was softer than he looked, she found, even with his grumpy scowling. Deimos was reasonable but quiet.
Each of them kept to their own, and they were judged for it. That was injustice. Ophelia listened to Archibald’s diplomatic words, remembering saying something similar when they had taken over the Foothills for the Grey. Locket had joined them, defaulted, actually – then joined. The rest had mostly slunk away, licking the wounds of their pride at their crushing defeat. She wondered if these few Falls’ outcasts would do the same or if they would be wise enough to realize that they and the World’s Edge were not so different. Pride was a funny thing though, clouding rationality with its overwhelming arrogance. Certainly, there would be a few who had a clouded view of reality, and she stood on the outside, able to see so much more since this was not her fight.
Just as she was about to leave, still near Torleik’s side, she heard a shouting thought above the din of her searching magic, and she furrowed her brows. She touched her muzzle to Torleik’s side. “One moment,” she said, walking back toward the crashing sound of the Falls to where Archibald stood, looking for her. Patiently and without much emotion crosses her ethereal, pale features, she stood. “Congratulations,” she said, eyes sweeping over his minor injuries from his battle with Ghost. “You have need of me?” she asked, gaze unwavering as she looked deeply into his golden eyes. Some found this habit of hers rather unnerving.
[[ @[Archibald] and @[Torleik] because you was mentioned, ho]]
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.
04-19-2015, 12:39 AM (This post was last modified: 04-19-2015, 04:21 PM by Africa.)
Home… it would never truly be, again.
Silas crashed heavily into the soft brush laid across the bed of Africa’s golden cave. He was confident that they would not be found, barely be missed, and that both would be able to recover some while chaos rained outside. The night was growing old, a weary war had been lost by Ghost the Cadaverous and those who followed her in absence of the Czar. The zephyr’s breast rumbled angrily and sadly as he thought of the trauma which had touched the soul of his bonded this time; how undeservedly, those monsters from the snow had torn away her liberty and shattered what little remained of the heart so long ago fractured in their care. The were cruel, merciless, and deserved nothing of the liberty which seemed to surround them - they should have been locked away in that frozen hell years ago with no chance to maim further life.
He released the limp parrot from the careful grip of his talons and she rolled into the bedding silently. For a long while he simply stared at her, helplessly consumed by the pain reeling through their bond - even as she slept so soundly. There had been nothing similar shared between them, not even the misery of her time spent in the Basin, and he began to weep for all the suffering her life had endured. Hooked beak buried itself beneath the warmth of her sullied feathers and like a mother hen he cast his glittering, black wingspan across her frail body. They would not touch her again, what more damage be done? Still, he was weak, the blackness pooling about that Griffin’s claws left a sour aftertaste in his veins and he too fell into the depths of sleep, above her.
Africa woke with a start, and though the body she craned to look at wore not the blood and gore of her other, the wounds still echoed loudly through its midst. A gravelly groan passed her hard, parrot beak and she found that she was stiff - barely able to move. The weight of Silas above her shifted as his bleary lilac eyes opened. They were alive, they had each other at least; Zahra would soon be found and Midas returned to their safety. They could leave this home so deeply cherished, and its heartless, excessive captors and travel - find the sand that Midas adored so much. That was, if they could find the strength to rise through the agony.
The Roc propped his body up across his trembling legs as Africa tried to do the same. It was a task easier said than done, and she was more than grateful that he was hovering, leaning, desperate to support any attempt made. As her slight frame began to teeter, he was there beneath, and she leaned against him long enough for the pool of blood to leave her skull and flow down through the rest of her burning body - to rouse it, bring it back to life. So much emotion flowed through the bond between them, the pain, bitterness, grief - Africa so desperately need her lover; to touch him, feel the gentleness of his touch, the passion that her heart pined for.
‘Zahra?'
Silas shook his head slowly.
’We must find her, she…’ The breath caught in Africa’s dry, raspy throat and she swallowed hard the bubble of nausea, the pain rising through her core. ’…she, will be starving.’ So weary was she, even in thought, that her body slumped where it sat resting against the Zephyr. She knew that to travel quickly, to find the daughter she and Midas loved so dearly alive, she would need to fly in this form. The other was wounded terribly, gored - she could feel it. Exhausted but determined, she stiffened her posture to stand and stretched first one wing out and then the other. ‘May the wind be in our favour’… Surely these wretched Gods of Helovia would spare her that small mercy.
Fighting the surging agony tracing every movement to follow, Africa’s stocky avian body fluttered from the security of the love-nest and up onto a tree branch beyond - still higher she climbed. From their she cast her eye around the kingdom of the Gallant, the Ascended and his Czarina. The night Silas had created was failing - light was leeching away the thick anonymity of that fateful, dark hour. There was much movement; bodies everywhere, milling about like stupid cattle. She quickly recognised a few - Resplendence (to her horror), the giant black beast who had bid her and Midas touch an ‘un-welcome’ on the border of World’s Edge and even the horned wench who had pierced a bleeding heart thrice over.
‘How could they?’
Stone has no moral compass…
‘Suppose you are right.
She cannot grow here, not amongst these ravenous wraiths.’
Because in Africa’s eye they were nothing more respectable - feared, relentless, heartless. This place was no longer the home they knew, it would perhaps never be. Tears flooded the morbid picture before them and she turned achingly to sob into the cloak of her bonded. Silas opened a wing, and again embraced her. Come, he hummed soothingly, tenderly. Zahra… He withdrew in fair time and followed his weak beloved closely as she swooped from their vantage point to another still nearer to the north - a narrow glade spared the effects of this war.
Their efforts were futile from the start, and Kaj wondered if perhaps that was better in the end. Perhaps it led to fewer casualties, but nothing could ever make Kaj feel better about what he and his kin had done. Did Mirage still feel the ghosts, the haunts, of her own invasion? Kaj smiled wryly to himself, circling restlessly above the battleground. Oh, but nobody had hated her when she had made the decision. Kaj didn't doubt he'd be the one demonized in the end; not apathetic, impassive Archibald, who was meant for war and had never let anyone fool themselves into the opposite. Certainly not Kahlua, with her quivering delicacies, the way she'd trembled and frozen before all her soldiers, garnering only sympathetic glances. And his own hesitations? Only Resplendence had answered his fears, and Kaj wondered dimly why it was everyone followed him so loyally, when all he felt was dissent somehow.
The end was almost anti-climactic. Though, a sick sort of pride wound itself through his stomach, because with the force of the Edge and the Basin combined, what couldn't they conquer? But this wasn't conquering, Kaj thought quietly to himself. This was slaughter. This was war in a way he'd never known it, so different from the days when he'd numbed and killed off all sensors and receptors of emotion in his body. Still, he ruminated on the potential to return to that realm of numbness, complete apathy and impartiality. Distance. Safety. Perhaps it was the only thing that would keep him from breaking into pathetic shards, drawing the true disdain of his people. For who ever told him he was fit to be King? A murderer. And how was he supposed to trust in his own abilities with that shadow encroaching on his soul?
Din died down, dust settling, victory claimed. Time ticked on, as it always did. The only real master, the true eternal winner. Archibald's voice rose above the silence, as if even nature was waiting on bated breath for an answer, a direction. Kaj alighted beside him, surveying the land with old, sad eyes. He could feel the hatred, the betrayal, as if it had sunken into the land itself. Infected it. And he would have to live with it. But he would do it again if it meant keeping his kin safe, and he prayed any repercussions She tried to pull on them would be negated by Her brother's new protection of the once-Edgers. And still Kaj knew others would never leave the misted cliffs, even if he tried to explain to them that he'd done it for them. It would never matter. And he would bear their ill-will with the same quiet suffering he did everything else. After all, didn't he deserve it?
Even still, a wing stretched to try and drag along Archibald's flank. We are here. We are whole. We have won. Together. Pale blues slid towards gold, trying to convey that message before turning regal head to the broken, battered souls that stood before him. How could he give them hope? How could he console those who still had the flames of hatred burning in their souls for him? His eyes flickered to Ophelia, and he wondered if her mind was open to him, and he did not attempt to shield himself from her if she desired to look inside him. In some minute way he craved it, so that she may once more be the lantern that had led him out of darkness the last time. Except...it was an unfair burden to place upon her. Kaj could not be a colt, helpless and weak, seeking others to do the hard parts for him. So he implanted steel within his bones, creating a basis for his soul to stretch across like a canopy, and looked to his people.
"I urge you not to look upon us as demons. Give us the chance to be your leaders. Do not let stung pride drive you into the Wilds, for you are all welcome to remain here in the home you've created for yourself. More violence and loss is not a necessity," his clear vocals boomed out, chasing Archibald's words. Ah, but he'd already said everything before Kaj, hadn't he? Chagrined, the newly turned Czar wondered if he'd ever stop feeling that volatile cocktail of love and bitterness over Archibald. But he was just one more peg on a ladder for Kaj to be lesser than. "To those of the former World's Edge - you have fought well. Rest. Those who have the strength will watch over for today. Approach us at your own pace for healing and decisions regarding ranks and desires. May we all be safer here," he let his hopes and desires wash tiredly into his vocals, and wondered if they'd even turn ear to his words. It seemed they were all broken in some way.
KAJ
and you will fail me again and again, and I will never learn
It was the second time she had been part of a group that marched to battle in the Earth God's lands with the purpose of calling it home and it was the second time her group had emerged victorious. That was where the similarities ended. She was not leading the charge like she did with her executioners. She would not claim the throne of Chieftess. She did not feel pride in claiming the Earth God's land as her new home. The Constrictor wasn't even sure she wanted to be in the Falls. The land was different, but all the memories remained and clawed at her relentlessly and viciously. Hototo had grown there, played there, been protected there. No matter how the Earth God manipulated the land he would never erase the memories and the feelings that clung to every tree, every stone, every blade of grass. No matter how much blood she spilled she would never wash those memories away.
Archibald's voice boomed across the meadow and she turned her head to watch him as he spoke then limped toward her. Who had he fought? How had they managed to hurt him enough that he favored one leg? How could he be so nonchalant about a leg injury when she was so concerned over her own? Dark lids fell over her crimson eyes and she sighed quietly. She may have looked peaceful standing there the way she was, but she was anything but peaceful. Inside she was battling with herself, the anger she felt at the beginning of the invasion still burning like hot embers within the confines of her dark chest. The longer she stood in the Earth God's lands the hotter the embers burned and threatened to explode into a raging inferno and consume her.
Ktulu's eyes snapped open once more as her sister's voice broke the silence that had followed Archibald's speech. Her sister's gaze was focused wholly on Archibald so Ktulu looked away, taking a moment to watch the beaten and battered herd that was leaving. Kaj's voice rang out next, assuring the losing party that they were still welcome to stay. The warrior within her balked. If they were not strong enough to keep the land in the first place what could they possibly offer now? Surely they felt anger and that anger could lead to a coup in the future. Whatever. She was not the leader, it was not her decision to make.
Another sigh passed Ktulu's lips and she limped away from Archibald and Ophelia. While they handled their business she would have her leg looked at by the healers. After that, who knew?
I sat in a tree for a time, after losing Lena to that dark unicorn. I decided the ground was a bit too dangerous for a stallion of my talents (in which there were none for fighting...), and so it was that I watched the last bits of the war that was won before it started. I had been surprised earlier when so many had fled beside me. Not just foals, but cowards like me, our bellies both yellow. I hadn't served in many herds, but of the ones I knew, all had been valiant when the occasion called for it. Well, all except me.
I'm not sure why this herd did not rally. Perhaps its stolen leader was like cutting the head from a snake. Perhaps we were too small, too weak, to begin with. Maybe we thought ourselves too safe in our rocky maze, our friends too numerous, to ever assume this would happen. I say we, because I suppose it's proper. After all I was part of the herd, before, but even so I had always been me. I am still me now, and the herd? I'm not so sure what herd I'm part of nay more, but I know I'm rather partial to these grazing grounds.
I hop forward on inky raven feet as one of the fighters calls out his victory. He explains some of their purpose, and invites us to stay - me to stay. I tilt my head, happy to accept, but the presence of another distracts me. Down below a golden stallion walks, his own voice lifted to the crowd. Something inside me roils and turns, and my body hops down from the tree, shifting back into my horse shape. Inky magic begins to paint of its own accord from my tail. It's done this a couple times before; I don't particularly like it, but I can stop it if I want, and it doesn't hurt, so I let it go on. A similar illustration of a dragon is made, and beside it a winged horse. I glance at my own art, baffled by my subconscious communication. My eyes drift again to the palomino, curious about him and the change he triggered inside me.
Now I have to stay.
Curious, I slap my tail away from the drawings, crumpling them, as my own body turns into a black rain. The droplets explode out, then come back together in the shape of a dark dragon. Rumbling with wet footsteps over the hillsides, I glide on inky wings towards Kaj. I'm small, more like a companion than a beast, and aim to land on his rump. I recognize him, but then I also don't. If he recognizes me, maybe he'll help me regain my memories.
Then again, maybe he's a dangerous sort to know. He did just invade another herd after all. No use in hiding though, he'll see me one way or another if I stay here, and better he crush me when I'm only ink, than when I'm horse flesh and dark blood.
@[Kaj]
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
Why did she come back? There was no reason to return to the site of bloodshed. But where else to go? She surely was not brave enough to venture around without a herdlands. She needed a safe haven to run towards.
So she was back, anxiously dancing on her toes through the greenery surrounding the falls, fear stringing her nerves as tight as her quick movements.
Green eyes were rimmed in white as her frightened gaze skittered over the battle leftovers. Nostrils flared wide as the metallic smell of fresh blood lingered on the lush grass. This was all so familiar, a distorted echo of the blood-soaked sands of her home.
But Instead of committing ghastly acts of carnage, the victors were easily sliding into the roles of leadership. This was so much more harmonious- so much more civilized than the blood feuds of the desert.
The words of the winners slowed the golden doll’s agitated movements as they boomed over the lands. The terrifyingly large black stallion stated that they meant no malice- but Bellisma only saw the damage those large, feathered hooves could commit if they pummeled her fragile body. Though he was not crushing those they had conquered… yet.
The next to speak, a still horribly large winged stallion, spoke pretty words of rest and safety. Her tuliped ears flickered in mistrust, but her eyes were no longer rimmed in white and her body was no longer twitching in anxiety.
The long, calming breath that was loudly leaving her nostrils was cut short as a rather violent looking mare whipped her angry gaze around the field. Bell kept her distance, for the look of the dark mare was similar to the look of those who plunder their conquests. She knew that look all too well.
The only time her mouth opened as to gasp as the inky creature, whom she had seen before she fled the battle, appeared as a dragon to land on the winged stallion’s rump. A loud gasp escaped her, and she skittered in her spooky state, “Oh, to have wings!” The plea was breathy and stated unconsciously. To have wings, to be free, to fly too close to the golden sun and never touch the earth again-
Her spook had brought her closer to these warriors, to her new leaders. What to do? To bow? To run? To cry? She opted to lower her pretty- though slightly panicked- face, bright green gaze cast down. Her terror stole her voice, but it was quite evident this broken mare would challenge no one’s leadership.
Sweat marred dark copper patches on her golden flanks, and she attempted to sidle back in to the underbrush, hoping to not elicit any attention.
ooc| I just wanted an IC staying post :)
Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; but only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief. So dawn goes down day. Nothing gold can stay. -Frost
Few turn their faces towards their words, and Kaj felt a sympathetic sort of understanding go through him like a warbling, uncomfortable current. Such words fresh in the destruction were useless. Perhaps later, when a herd meeting was called and the pains had been eased both of mind and body, their words would have more affect. More impact. So Kaj allowed them to flee or disappear into the greenery, his heart heavy and soul like lead. It was he who had conjured the idea, and he felt his faults as if they were daggers inside his flesh, twisting with every move he attempted to make. The pains that made him wince to see in the window faces of those around him had been caused by him. Surely there could have been another way? But no, Kaj had agonized over the decision for endless nights, hardly slept or ate for fear that the Goddess would next strike someone from his family.
An inky figure catches his eye as his words fall on deaf, unwilling ears. Heart stops in his mighty golden chest, a bird suddenly desperate to get free. It advanced, flying on quiet, molten wings. No. It's impossible. Kaj had searched everywhere for Ink when he had disappeared on the path back home from the Dragon's Throat. The first true friend he had made in Helovia, the one who had understood his quiet, reluctant nature before Kingship had forced him into eloquence. It could not be. But the form was unmistakable, his memory too clear and precise in continuous grief and mourning over his lost friend for there to be any error.
He stared until his eyes ached, time seeming slow and thick as it choked down upon him with every bit the inky creature came closer. A dragon. And he did not move, allowing the creature to perch upon his haunches, craning his mighty head back just so he may keep his gaze upon the impossible creature. Ink bled onto his skin, familiar, tarnishing his coat with every little step the dragon made. Kaj let his breath go in a horrible, rasping exhale, unaware of when he had even begun to hold it. Everything narrowed down to that little creature, the dark eyes he could see swimming back at him. The ones that he could still place easily in his old friend's delicate, quiet face.
"Ink?" he croaked quietly towards the fluid creature, praying to the Gods that his suspicions were right. Where had he been all that time? Why had he not returned to the Edge? To Kaj? Because it still stung, his loss. Kaj had adored the quiet, lanky soul. His first brother, the one that had given him strength, the courage to pursue higher statuses. It was Ink whom he owed his eventual kingship. Was this his saving grace? His one allotted consolation for what he had committed?
Something made him turn his head, sensing the approach of the quiet, trembling mare. Blue eyes softened, momentarily allowing himself to be distracted from what could possibly (hopefully) grow into a full reunion. Her fear was understandable, and it twisted Kaj's gentle hear to see her fear, her indecision. "Please do not fear us," he spoke to her softly, meant for her ears and whomever few were near enough to grasp his syllables. "I am glad to see you stay." He hoped it would comfort her, as she slid backwards towards the foliage, clearly too uncomfortable to remain for long and try to forge ties. So Kaj allowed himself to look back over his shoulder again, as if the ink creature was a magnet he could not hope to resist for long. "Is that you, Ink?" he whispered, a little pained with the idea that it was not.
@[Ink] and @[Bellisma], Bell was only mentioned but just in case you wanted to see!
KAJ
and you will fail me again and again, and I will never learn
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