the Rift

[OPEN] From shadows to shade
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
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Ophelia walked with practiced ease through the autumn vibrancy, her cloven hooves a useful tool in navigating the terrain. She was quiet, most of the time, often preferring silence to noise, and Tinek had taken flight from her back, giving the sky a silver banner. The pale princess journeyed slowly with Glasgow, not keep on pushing the mare too far, and she was constantly trying to lead her in the direction of the thicker meadows and rich grasses. Food was plenty here, most of the time, so there was no reason not to stop and graze. Besides, this skinny, poor creature needed her strength.

Though the Thistle Meadow they walked, traversing the map laterally for a time to give Ophelia a chance to orient this stranger with their land. Her own, flawless memories provided a perfect map, one that was walked on nearly every corner. "We are moving east," she explained softly. "Toward the coast. But, the World's Edge lies far above the shoreline. You can smell the ocean from time to time, and the trees obscure the sudden drop deeper into the forest. Walk with caution until you are confident where the cliffs begin and safe ground ends," she warned gently.

Meadows were fast replaced with trees, the tall, fortress of firs growing ever more dense. Mists, silver and mysterious, permeated the lands, rising and falling with the time of day. "I have heard that these are the mists of the Moon Goddess," she said, walking inward. "They come and go." Ophelia paused then and turned to her charge, smiling softly and perhaps a little darkly. "Welcome to the World's Edge, Glas," she invited, bowing deeply.

"The Kings are Mauja the Frostheart and Torleik the Bloodskald. Both of them are warriors and rather unmistakable. Perhaps one will show up to greet you, but I have not been... home... in some time." Home. What an interesting word to apply to this place now. It did not feel like home - not without Torleik at her side.


Credits: Image by Schwartze @ DA

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.

Please tag me in every response!

Glasgow Posts: 127
Aurora Basin Apprentice atk: 3.5 | def: 10.0 | dam: 7.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3hh :: 11 years HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
It had been such a long adventure. There was a slight spark of content slowly beginning to grow within the barrel of the broken mare. Steps following Ophelia to the new place she would call home. Ears listening as she explained the land around. It was, interesting, to say the least. It wasn’t like she came from a place that nothing like this had come from. However, she was interested to see how it worked in other places of the world. As Ophelia noted to Glasgow that they were moving east, a gentle nod occurred from the mare; not speaking once more. She was grateful for this kind mare. Allowing her to stop and fill her stomach every so often. It had been so long and now the phantom mare’s stomach no longer ached with pains and sounds. The sound of what the World’s Edge held within them made Glasgow excited for a change. It didn’t look like it, but her mind was swimming about the idea.

Looking around at the surroundings she took note of the gentle mists and dense land almost made her feel comforted in its secrecy. Listening to Ophelia once more, she turned her glazed eyes to her, nodding yet again. ”It looks wonderful. Thank you again for taking me home.” There was a gentle pause in the cracked voice of the scarred mare as she said the word ‘home’. It had been so long since she had known of such a phrase, but to know that she had a place that might actually be comforting and helpful with people around that hadn’t experienced anything she had endured, was quite refreshing. A new home, a new start, a new appearance. At least she felt as though people wouldn’t truly know her story, to know that she hadn’t always been like this. That might make things easier for her in the long run.

As she listened more, she learned of the Kings of the World’s Edge. Two kings, how interesting. However, when Ophelia said she hadn’t been home in quite some time, Glas was curious but didn’t want to step on any toes; the mare refrained from asking. Instead, her ears danced with the new sounds and smells around as she took another look around. ”This place seems wonderful. What kinds reside here?” Her head swiveled to view Ophelia once more. Curiosity engulfing her. Back home the only ones her city had housed had been horned and winged, or even both. She had known and come across quite a few plain species but she was curious if she would come across any of those types around this area, or if it seemed to be really only their kind. Overall she wasn’t sure how this area worked when it came to that, but she had heard of places back home being rather exclusive.

OOC: @[Ophelia] Sorry for the delay, school and work >.>
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Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo

i am the vanguard of your destruction
Two pale little princesses... A fractured border, and one fractured heart.

“I’m my mother’s rape.”

“She…she didn’t say that b-but….it was that…that huge rat bastard she calls her….”

“It’s like-- sometimes, Ma just gives me this look—and her eyes go dark and she’s not even looking at me anymore, it’s like I’ve got Pa’s face and...”

He hadn't—well, fuck, what had he expected? She lived in his herd now, and not just in his memories (fuckfuckfuck; he wished he could just turn back time a few years, set him up in some place before all this shit had gone down, a—a time and a place where their paths could've crossed as often as they were bound to now before everything was too late.. before Roskuld, before he left, before Torleik, and that word ringing like a siren in his head (FILTH)). She had a role, a duty, as head of their rogues and spies—she was the memory to Thor's thought.

Of course he was going to run into her. Of course it was going to be like running headfirst into a glacier. Of course it was going to make his heart and mind explode in a thousand different directions at the same time.

There was anger—oh, was there anger, something black and bleak and hot unfurling, the tar in his veins melting and turning to fire, floating with his blood.

There was sorrow. Regret. A mournful dirge for every future he had lost with her.
(But there's something final to it, like a burial, like it's already dead but he just needs time to let go properly—)

There was pity. There was.. confusion. In his love-struck folly he had put her on a pedestal, and not only had she fallen, unforgivably fast and far, but how she could consider Torleik worthy of her—good enough for her


He couldn't say that he loved her anymore; what he had loved had been.. either who she had been, or nothing but an idea, a flickering, transient dream.

If Ophelia had chosen—if she had said that Torleik was good enough.. then Mauja would respect that, no matter how much it confused him.

He realized he had stopped moving, his white coat standing out like a beacon against the darkened backdrop (if he couldn't have mountains and snow, he should at least go live in a birch forest, right?) of firs and fog.

The anger had run its brief, fiery course, and left him just empty.

And aside from having noted the white mare she came with, he hadn't paid her any attention, so when she moved he blinked, like he suddenly realized she was there. His gaze ran over her once. No one he knew. Dainty, porcelain white, and—woah. His gaze snapped back to her face, thankful there was still some twenty yards between them to hide the movements of his eyes. Those were some wicked scars.

Two horns, one broken, rose from her skull. A cascade of ashen gray surrounded her slim neck.

Tattered and tarnished holy whites.

Everyone was clad in them these days.

Feeling decidedly awkward, because he was always awkward when marching up to newcomers and trying to introduce himself, he figured he should at least make himself more known instead of stand there like a mist-veiled creeper. "Welcome," he said, his light voice raised to carry the slight distance as his feet began to take him forward again; ears pointed curiously at them and gaze light. Experience masked the secrets in his heart, and masked them well.

[ @[Ophelia], @[Glasgow] ]
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Torleik the Bloodskald Posts: 354
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 11 HP: 66.5 | Buff: SWIFT
Irelyn :: Plain Griffin :: Molten Dagger RedGod
Torleik the Bloodskald

Like tomorrow doesn't exist

He spotted Ophelia but, no real surprise, it seemed Mauja spotted her first. His woman claimed there would be no issue working with the Frostheart, that they both could interact professionally.

He thought that was bullshit.

Mauja was too much of an emotional cripple to handle this, and Torleik felt as though he was simply counting down the days until Queen Polkadot tried something he'd have to put him down for. He prayed it never came to that, but he was more realistic than optimistic in this regard.

Still. For as insecure as he might feel, to know that Ophelia had relegated Mauja to the realm of nothing was...a comfort as he approached, seeing not only the Frostheart and the Forsaken, but a newcomer as well. A female unicorn with horns that reminded him of his cousin Ulrik. Approaching with curiosity and hospitality, the rabicano took his place next to Ophelia, close to her, as a silent reminder to his philandering co-leader to keep his distance. Insecurity was rather much of a bitch, despite his intentions to try to be a better man.

"Indeed, you are most welcome,"the Bloodskald rumbled. "I am Torleik, and, if I may - I overheard your question to Ophelia. All kinds are welcome here, as the merit of a being is not measured by physical form. What is your name?" he queried, noting her coloring, and the scars on her face. What must have done that to her? He desired to know out of empathy - and undeniably, curiosity - but he would not dare ask. Such scars spoke to a traumatic event and to exhume that kind of emotional corpse would bring nothing but pain.


"talk talk talk"

Art by Veradaine @ DA
[Image: 531c0b471919e]

No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D

Please tag me in all posts! Thank you!

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