"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.
Rexanna was beginning to be quite learned in the areas around Helovia. She had ventured to many different spots, attaining more information about the places she had been as well as growing ties with other creatures. She was still fairly new here and she needed to start becoming known for the things she could provide. The golden vixen felt quite uncomfortable with the feeling that she almost has contributed nothing to her home. She definitely needed to change that; so she did her best learning of others and creating acquaintances or even friendships to learn about skills and other herds. The one she had particularly heard much of was the Edge from Tembovu. While it seemed nice, it also seemed weak in some aspects. Rexanna’s comfort grew with the idea of the Sentinels that guarded her home from intruders, however the idea of it only being unicorns was a curious aspect. She wondered what would happen if a winged creature were to have appeared there, being quite friendly. What would occur then?
Yet again, the mistress found herself aimlessly wandering through the trees. She was used to travelling through these. She found herself in the forest as well as the threshold many a time. There was something different about this area, though. She was quite unsure of where this would end up going. The sun danced overhead, but the air still held a thick chill of winter as well as the snow that lined the bottom of the trees had not melted in the slightest. Her teal eyes casted glances over the objects growing in stature ahead, before she heard the sound of water nearby. Feeling as though she could use a drink, the mare wandered in the way of the water. Upon coming to the Brook, she peered out of the trees from the water’s edge. Noticing a large quite structure to her left, she grew curious. After a few moments of quenching her thirst, Rexanna turned and headed straight for the curious structure. She noticed the drapes that drifted with the slight amount of wind, tips wet from the recently felled snowfall. How interesting.
@[Rohan] Sorry it’s weird xD I never really know how to start threads.
It would seem that the Warlander has been built for this season.
The initial cold of Frostfall had begun to cut through his skin, thickening his tiger-striped coat and condensing the already thick dark hair that lines his legs and underbelly. He appears more like a Friesian now more than ever, a true beast of hair and strength, nearly draft-like if it were not for the leanness of his body. Travel-hardened muscles move over bone as he saunters forward at an extended walk, the density of his coat unable to completely hide the surge and fell of movement beneath his skin.
Arching his thick neck, Rohan exhales heavily from his nostrils—his warm breath curling in swirling wisps into the air. He roams freely, with no particular destination in mind. Helovia is a blank map to him—untouched and open to new discoveries. He had wandered from the borders of World’s Edge not long ago, seeking to mull over his thoughts more generously, without the gazes of his hosts burning his back.
Eventually he takes note of the change in scenery—the trees, once impossibly thick and fertile with growth despite the chill of Frostfall, are now beginning to thin slightly. With his green eyes narrowing, Rohan’s gait hesitates a step, nostrils flaring as he observes the scent of something unfamiliar…something ancient. Tilting his head to the side, he continues forward, curious when he stumbles across some primordial structure. “What strange architecture,” he ponders to himself when inspecting the rotunda more closely. He steps onto the circular piece of stone, lowering his head to sniff inquisitively at the pavilion’s floor.
Through the curiosity of his exploration, something manages to grasp his attention—movement. Flicking the length of his tail, Rohan shifts his weight just enough to peer through the primordial pillars, catching a glimpse of some golden figure through the seeping curtains that flow from the rotunda’s canopy. With his interest awakened, the Warlander steps out of the structure’s shadows, careful to keep out of the stranger’s eye as he returns to the dimness of the trees, his gaze lingering on the mare as he moves.
She is not quite like anything he has seen before. Her coat is gold, far more brilliant than his own, and vibrant against the white canvas of winter—almost as if the sun itself has gilded her with its glowing light. Promptly deciding that such a beauty must not go without his acquaintance, the antlered stallion breaks from the staggered line of trees, his pace measured and confident.
“And I thought this ancient pavilion would be the prettiest thing I would set my eyes on today,” his deep voice swells through the frigid air, the warmth of his broad tones pushing away the frosty wafts of winter rather than cutting through them. He approaches the horned mare from the side, his large body perpendicular to hers. “Sometimes…” he muses as he draws to a halt, his voice almost for himself, “I do enjoy being proved wrong.” Brown lips twist into a crooked smirk, fluted ears tilting forward as his bright eyes settle on her pretty face.
Her eyes seemed glued to the structure. Her eyes dancing across the different details that were carved into the sides. She noticed a variety of colors that peeked out from the drapes when they moved with the subtle Frostfall wind. Her ears perked and curious as her gold and cream body glinted with the light overhead. She might’ve wandered in the structure if it weren’t for a deep boisterous voice that compelled her attention more. ‘And I thought this ancient pavilion would be the prettiest thing I would set my eyes on today.’ The words hit her ears as she turned, angling and arching her neck to her side as she watched a large horned creature dance her way. A small smile placed upon her lips as she turned herself a little bit more forward to the male. His next set of words had her emit a small velveteen laugh before her silky voice broke from her maw. ”Ah, I thought this ancient pavilion would be the tallest thing I saw all day. Though sometimes, I do enjoy being proved wrong as well.” The mare joked, offering another soft giggle toward him. All jokes aside, however, she was curious about him. His coat golden much like hers but darker. More like a caramel color. His eyes were bright green with wonder and she began to imagine just what kind of creature he was. He seemed quite gentle and serene, but looks could be deceiving if she knew anything about them.
”All jokes aside, I am Rexanna. Who might you be?” She smiled to him, a genuine smile. After he mentioned her looks as they appealed to him, it caused a type of switch to go off in the vixen. Almost as if she felt like she needed to flaunt herself around to almost prove the idea that she was indeed gorgeous and she knew it. The innocence card playing in her books as well this time. Her blue eyes traced along his figure, taking in the size comparison. Her ears standing at attention and angled toward him as she swished her dual colored tail gently, resting her front left hoof in a nonchalant pose.
Rohan
Her laughter is silky as it chimes into the wintry air, reminding him of icicles that dangle from evergreen’s branches, pealing as they are blown by the wind. His gently skewed smirk lingers, but his deep tones do not mimic hers until he hears words leave her lips, his chuckle much broader than her own soprano tones. He is a man who laughs easily. Perhaps it is not always in a light and airy manner (he has been known to jeer more than once), but it is more than he can say for the stiff-necked hypocrites that dare not disturb their aura.
He tries not to dwell on how his father comes to mind.
Instead, he concentrates on much more delightful, much more appealing things. Bright eyes refocus on the gilded mare that stands before him, allowing his mind—as he too often does—to be happily distracted by a pretty face and sultry words. Hopefully she is kind enough to oblige.
Fluted ears tilt forward to catch her name; Rexanna. He mulls it over in his mind for a moment, feeling the sound of it out. He’s certainly no name expert, but he has been around the field enough times to get a general idea guess. Hers doesn’t particularly strike him as a…let’s say, a goody-good type of name, like Amy or Mary. It doesn’t necessarily scream seductress either, but the Warlander detects promise—if a character is shaped by a name, that is. Only the Gods know exactly what he has gotten for himself today.
“Your tall, dark, and handsome, sweetheart,” he ignores her ‘all jokes aside’ and slides it in smoothly, because the flare just sounds better. The stallion’s crooked smirk deepens, his weight shifting—because the blasted cold will seep through his thick coat before he knows it—before he continues with a mighty arch of his neck. “But you can call me Rohan,” his deep chuckle resounds again in his broad chest, clearly amused by his own antics. If only everyone was so easily charmed.
Rexanna’s wandering gaze does not go unnoticed, and he seems to puff beneath it. A man does love to be wanted, after all. “Tell me about yourself, Rexanna,” he muses, and although his demeanor suggests otherwise, he is genuinely curious; despite his flirtatious and brute characteristics, he can care, “what does it take to bring a lady like yourself out here alone?” His eyes trace her features, and the stallion notes her markings—strange streaks of ebony that curl about the lines of her face. It is quite enchanting.
The golden vixens attention seemed to be glued to the caramel creature. His antlers reminding her much of an old friend Tilney she had met briefly. A kind creature, but one that seemed to be mirror opposites of the prideful stag before her. A gentle smile stuck on her maw as she listened to his responses to her. His smooth phrases, albeit, made a gentle chime of a laugh occur once again. He was quite the entertaining one. His laugh boomed to her and reminded her slightly of Tembovu, but she did her best to put that idea to the side before she spoke to the stag before her. ”I could stick with tall, dark, and handsome if you keep calling me sweetheart.” The smile seemed to grow a bit with a playful twist as she steadied her posture to him, joking along with him. She took note of his pride when her gaze danced across him that she only felt it necessary to do the same. His words hit her ears once more and her ears flickered ever so slightly.
”Ah, where to start? I hail from the Basin. Quite charming if I do say so myself. Though I am quite new to Helovia. Been here only a couple of seasons now.” She informed him, teal eyes steadily set on him to catch any kind of curious expressions. ”I do enjoy adventure. Perhaps it suits you too for us both to be snooping about this structure.” Another joke with partial honesty bounded from her chest as she let a quieter giggle escape. Shifting her weight, her tail swished lightly, trying to keep the blood flowing with the ever sharp chill that filled the air. Her eyes danced over to the structure once more before landing upon the large male in front of her. ”So, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, let me in on some of your history.” Her voice soft yet kept that gentle smile across her pearl lips. Eyes mimicked the look quite well as she pondered over the wording of her sentence. She supposed it could go a variety of ways. He could tell her about himself, or he could inform her about his home or how long he had been residing in Helovia. Either one would do for her. Just for the sake of keeping entertaining company around. She didn’t want to let go of Rohan any time soon.
Rohan
The stallion’s smirk—so characteristic to his lips that the gesture might as well become a part of him—deepens in its amusement with Rexanna’s quick-witted response. His broad chuckle rumbles for a moment longer, his mirth reaching up to twinkle in his eyes. “I think that can be arranged,” he nearly croons, shifting the weight of his large body so that it leans just a fraction closer to her. He could chalk it up as sharing body heat on a day as frigid as this, but let’s face the truth—the Warlander delights with the presence of a pretty lady. And she happens to be a pretty lady, so why should he not enjoy it?
Fluted ears catch her voice when she begins her introduction. His brow rises slightly when she references the Aurora Basin, his interest piqued. The great mysterious North. Mention of the mystical snowy valley has caught him quite a bit lately that he can’t help but be curious—all information from the mouths of enchanting young ladies, as fate would have it. Part of him demands why he hasn’t at least wandered there yet, but then Sialia’s words return to him. The Basin only accepts those of its own kind. It is an ideal that he struggles deeply with. Why should it matter?
Perhaps a part of him is afraid that he will become so enthralled by the mysteriousness and beauty of it, that he will have no choice but to join the herd of the North. And does he really want to belong to a realm that is so sorely segregated? A proper kingdom shouldn’t have to rely on such self-absorbed prejudices.
Flicking his unruly tail, Rohan pushes these thoughts aside, sure that they are not important now. “Adventure does happen to suit me well,” the antlered stallion continues, the transition smooth with a simpering grin flashing across his lips, “my heart’s wanderlust is rarely satisfied. I am new to Helovia myself—I have yet to see a full season, and have been trying to familiarize myself with its wonders. I am loyal to no herd yet.” He ends with a sort of finality, the hunger for adventure—for excitement, for the unknown—clear in the tone of his voice. Rohan likes to think himself unbridled and uninhibited in his wanderings.
However, his demeanor shifts just slightly when Rexanna inquires of his own history. It is an innocent question, surely, but the Warlander can’t help but stiffen, his thoughts running away with him a little. Instantly he is guarded, suspicious. Promptly, he decides to abandon any mention of his royal heritage—Helovia will know him as simply Rohan; Rohan Kaerji, the lost prince, is gone. His father would be so devious to send a young and attractive mare after him, to find and exploit him, knowing well his son’s weakness for female flesh.
But before long he rationalizes with himself—he is being silly; he needs to relax, he needs to enjoy himself. He can’t allow his father’s ghost to haunt him here. All of this Rohan decides in a matter of seconds before continuing, his hesitation likely unnoticed by his pretty company. “I assure you there is nothing notable to know—only that I’m here now,” his smirk returns, “and I would venture to say that Helovia has treated me well thus far.”
She watched him curiously. Teal orbs dancing across the crevices of his face with the rise and fall of muscles while he spoke. He seemed to lean closer and it almost felt as though they were devoid of any personal space. Ha, what personal space? Rex hardly knew of such a thing when it came to a charming stag. She didn’t mind at all, though. She just embraced the warmth of two close bodies among the freezing temperatures outdoors. She watched as his smile danced into a smirk and she couldn’t help but to return the action, her mind wishing her to be even closer to this male with the intentions that he appeared to be leading on. Was he leading it on, though? Probably not. Although this season seemed to embrace Rexanna with lust. How strange.
Clearing her throat lightly as he finished his speech she offered him a small nod. ”Fair enough. I do hope it has treated you ever so kind. A handsome being such as yourself, I believe, only deserves the best.” She winked to him before her chime of a laugh came from her maw again. What his secrets were, were secrets to keep. Just as Rexanna’s secrets were her own to keep. Were she to say she had been royalty and she had a feeling that many would laugh in her face at seeing what it was she did now. So she kept all of that a secret; including the fact that she murdered her own mother. Yes perhaps now and then she’d let out that she watched her mother die. But never would she mention who was the culprit. That was just in poor favor and bad taste. That was the last thing that she wanted to be known as. For now, she was pleased in knowing she was going to be known as a gorgeous face with a fun schedule – If you knew what she meant.
Secrets were funny things in that way. One could take past experiences and learn from them for the better, or for the worst. It was hard to say with Rexanna whether or not she was one of those creatures that learned better. Had she, perhaps her parents would still be alive and she would be the ruler of the throne. Instead of being a name mentioned for fun, her name may have been feared or embraced with regality. It was hard to say how the world worked like that, but she did not dwell on the fact.
Rohan
Rexanna doesn’t probe him any further for details of his life prior to Helovia, for which the Warlander is grateful. They are memories that he wishes to forget, no matter how much they creep back to haunt him. He feels himself relax as their conversation continues on, because—surely—a minion sent from his father wouldn’t give in so easily. Comforted by this thought, his spirits are lifted, and he has every intention in enjoying the golden mare’s company while he has it.
“A handsome being such as yourself, I believe, only deserves the best.”
A short chafe of a chuckle is emitted from his brown lips, the thickness of his muscled neck arching and his broad chest puffing out proudly at her praise. Not that he needs any approval to feel the confidence that lines every swaggering step of his, but he accepts it generously nonetheless. “Then I do believe we are in accordance, my dear,” there is a more boisterous laughter in his voice this time, the mirth reaching up to alight in his green eyes. Indeed—he does deserve the best (if only everyone was so keen on accepting this fact). And at this moment, the best just happens to be the pretty young enchantress before him now.
Rohan catches her wink with a smile, the length of his dark cream tail swaying around his fetlocks. Always the gentleman, always the player. A heart might rest beating in his ribcage, but it is flighty and fickle—just the way he likes it. The Warlander twists his lips, crooked and charming, at the golden mare, the heat of her body reaching to touch his skin beneath his hairy hide.
“You are new to Helovia,” he muses, repeating to himself the words that she had spoken earlier, “and from the Aurora Basin. I have heard of the mysteries of the great North.” In his deep words lie unspoken questions—questioning the land, its splendors, its segregation, himself. He feels both repulsed and intrigued by what must lie beyond the snowy mountains, content for now to draw the fascinating beauties out from beneath its frosty peaks and into his waiting presence. He can wait to uncover the great secrecies another day.
Perhaps they are more enchanting that way.
Pursing his lips, Rohan returns the focus of his gaze to Rexanna, happily captured by the iciness of her blue eyes. They seem to pull in the frostiness of winter and hold it there, churning and just waiting to release it with a raw and fierce passion. The Warlander is greatly intrigued by what passions might lie wait in the mare’s slender frame. Shifting his large weight, he leans closer to the mare—because who bothers with personal space anyway?—and reaches out to brush the chain of her horn with his lips. “And what is this?” He murmurs, mildly curious about its origins, but it stems mostly from the excuse, the desire, to be closer to her.
The mare listened to his husky voice, the sound allowing her heart to flutter and feel quite light. It wasn’t a feeling so much of love as it was of entertainment. The excitement of the chase, almost. His laugh caught her attention again before she chimed in with her own gentle laugh. As he spoke once more, she couldn’t help but to nod. New to Helovia, true. She had come across creatures born in this land and yet here she was just stumbling across it like a newborn child. She didn’t think about it too much seeing as she was definitely doing her best to keep her reputation strong within the Basin. She wanted to be able to understand everything that occurred in Helovia. When it came to history, she hardly knew anything. Hell, in her first attempt at recruiting, she got schooled in the fact that she didn’t even know her own herd’s god. What kind of herd member is that? Perhaps she may need to spend some time learning. As for time spent, around two seasons. Hardly much to boast about. However the Basin was definitely something she chalked up to be better than what she heard everyone else say about it. She had a feeling that there were a few that disliked her herd, as for a reason why she wasn’t entirely sure of yet.
Her eyes trailed Rohan’s face gently as he reached out, brushing her chain that connected from the golden horn to behind her own creamy velvet ears. His words hitting her ears almost made her want to tell him the whole reasoning behind it. But no, he was a stranger. She wasn’t going to just express the fact she was royalty. It had strange effects on many. Her eyes on the creature before her as she tried to put words in her mouth but instead she almost seemed speechless. Shaking her head lightly, she danced the chain again. The movement resembling a wiggling worm in a way. Her smile stuck on her lips as she began to speak. ”Ah, it’s a gift from home. It's something given to children as they're born, that is, if they are horned. Some had them adorned on their wings!” Good job Rex. You did it. You didn’t say too much but you were still pretty vague. Oh she’d get better at this. Or so she hoped.
@[Rohan] Sorry it’s weird xD I never really know how to start threads.
Rohan
The shortest moment of silence settles between them after his broad voice fades into the wispy white winds of winter. Fluted ears are tilted forward, lying in wait for the mare’s answer, but the core of the stallion’s attention is drifting from their conversation, carrying his thoughts down a much more desirable, much more animalistic path. For their breath of silence, his green eyes wander from her face, following the lines and curves of her neck, her shoulder, her back. So inviting is the female body, alluring without even an effort on her part, playing games and tricks with the more lustful parts of his mind—tangling him in a web that he is only so willing to walk into.
It is Rexanna’s movement that forces the Warlander to resurface from his immoral haze (if only for a short while) when she tosses her head, playing with the golden chain that hangs from her horn. Rohan returns her smile with a more subdued one of his own, his dark lips twisting into something between a smirk and a scowl, but it is soon gone and replaced with a more neutral expression.
“Wings, you say?” The antlered stallion muses, pursing his brown lips as they twist with a dry chuckle. Where he comes from, there hadn’t been many equine creatures with wings—and the few that were there were automatically ranked low in class in consequence for their “deformities.” It was a rule that his father had pressed hard to enforce, though Rohan had never agreed with it (not that he had agreed with much of anything his father had done). If nothing else, he had always envied their wings—he could only imagine what it must be like to fly! What a truly liberating feeling it must bring.
Shifting his weight and flicking his thick tail around his muscled flanks, the large stallion returns the green of his eyes to Rexanna, evenly meeting the icy blue of her own gaze. “I wonder what purpose a chain would serve to children—discipline? A mark of heritage? Custom, perhaps?” Rohan mostly ponders to himself, the tone of his voice not requesting an answer despite his curiosity. “We apparently didn’t have such a luxury where I’m from,” he chuckles cynically to himself, shaking his head. He had the luxury of stone castle walls, servants, and duties in Etherim—nothing to keep with him, only memories that fade with time (some not fast enough).
Tucking his head in towards his chest, the Warlander peers at the golden mare from beneath his brow, his shadow-cast eyes brooding with mischief. “Why do you continue to wear it?” His tone is nonthreatening, the main part of his attention shifting with his deep voice as he continues, and though her answer is inconsequential, “You are obviously not a child anymore.” Rohan’s eyes wander again, hardly discreet, to the curves of her figure—obviously not the body of a girl, but a woman.
notes; sorry again for the horrible wait! x[ tag; @[Rexanna] “Speech.”
Uncomfort was growing within the barrel of the vixen. She watched him with curious eyes as he assessed what she had said. She thought it was pretty simple and that he couldn’t have thought too far into it. She was wrong, however. He seemed to grip the real words out of her mouth and the thought made a slight shiver pull through her spine. Alas she could blame it on the cold, right? She nodded as he spoke of wings, but took a few moments to figure out what she wanted to say in response to his following words.
The last thing she wanted to do was tell her history to a stranger.
She wanted to live in a mix of that chaos and curiosity that so many she had met did. She wanted to be part of the life that nobody truly knew where she came from or what she was capable of, and Helovia was such a wonderful land for such events. So long as she could keep her mouth shut and creatures like Rohan could keep from guessing her hidden mask.
Flicking her tail, the tresses danced across her rump lightly before seeming to float to the ground. She offered him a small smirk of a smile before a shrug. ”No reason really in particular as far as I know. You see I was sent out on my own at a young age. I think it was to teach discipline. But, it’s all I have left of home and I’ve grown quite fond of it since.” Her smirk stayed upon her features as icy blue eyes took in the large antlered stag before her. Dancing across his body lightly, oh how powerful he seemed to be.
Is that how it always went for her? She had to think of more… intimate thoughts to keep from saying something she didn’t want to?? Apparently so. She almost felt as though she wanted to change the subject, but perhaps to what? She noted that he mentioned of not having such luxuries where he was from and she tilted her head lightly at the thought before taking in an icy breath. ”What kind of place did you wander from?” She questioned. She hoped it as innocent enough and hoped that he wouldn’t sit there and explain his life story to her, otherwise she might’ve felt bad.
Rohan
The antlered stallion is all but oblivious to Rexanna’s discomfort. He hadn’t meant any harm in his curiosity, and certainly isn’t trying to pry into her past—although he can be quite hypocritical at times, he tends to avoid deep subjects like that in favor of protecting his own secrets—and he doesn’t think twice about the questions he has posed. If anything, his thoughts are still lingering with the curves of her body, the heat of her skin—ever the slave to testosterone-induced desires, thick and hazy with lust. Truly, she needn’t worry about him in regards to her little enigmas, but the mind is never so open—its own enemy as it spins its anxieties and horrors over nothing.
His large body remains hovering close to hers, his fluted ears tilting forwards and his eyes peering at her from beneath his heavy brow. Perhaps, if he had known the mare better, he would have detected her hesitation, the slightest of wavers in her voice and the uneasiness of her eyes. But, being nearly strangers to one another, Rohan recognizes none of this. Rexanna is as comfortable as ever as far as he is concerned (hardly eager to break that façade himself, to be perfectly honest—he is not in the mood to play a shoulder to cry on at the moment. He has an idea of…different things).
Still Rohan nods his head absentmindedly, his gaze roaming lazily across her face, following the exotic black lines before resting again at her eyes. “How nice it is to have something to remember it by,” he muses, although his deep tone is more polite than anything. The antlered stallion is not sure whether or not he’d want something to remember Etherim by—a large part of him wants to forget that piece of him and erase that life, to eliminate Rohan Kaerji completely. But perhaps, deep down and somehow surviving despite his stubbornness to forget, there is a small part of him that clings to those memories.
The stallion exhales from his nostrils, reminding himself that it just couldn’t be possible, and returns his focus to Rexanna when her smoky voice reaches out again. Now it is his turn to freak out. He had stumbled into Helovia not wanting to speak of Etherim again, to forget, but somehow the rolling hills and stone castles never entirely leave his mind’s eye—is it coincidence? Surely his father couldn’t have followed him all the way here.
His heart thumps fiercely against his ribcage, but like the gilded woman before him, he hides his discomfort well (or so he would like to think, at least). Steadying his breath, the Warlander takes a moment to respond, his eyes drifting to the snowy woods before his voice slips from his tongue. “A…paradoxical place, but not without its wonders I suppose,” and he leaves it at that—there is no need for more.
Shifting his heavy weight, Rohan breathes a wispy breath before turning his eyes again to Rexanna, his gaze idling before he steps forward. “I imagine darkness will be upon us soon, and winter’s wrath along with it,” he purses his lips before reaching out in a single bold gesture, the warmth of his breath billowing over the curve of her shoulder as he presses his lips to her skin. The Warlander trails his touch up her neck until he reaches her jawline, lingering there before pulling away, “you are welcome to join me, if nightfall doesn’t call you elsewhere.” He means to stay somewhere near the Rotunda tonight, in the protection of the woods. Perhaps Frostfall’s fury wouldn’t be so violent if he had a body to share.
notes; Rex can either stay or leave, doesn't matter to me! If she leaves, we must thread them again sometime ^^ or either way xD tag; @[Rexanna] “Speech.”
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