"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.
It has come to my attention that since I left our home in the dust, you have not been cared for. I am writing now in the hopes that this letter will find you with the kindness and care only a mother can provide, even if she is far.
Know that even with unfamiliar and endless miles between us, I love you. And so I've decided to chronicle my journeys for you and commit them to memory on the wind. Perhaps they will reach you, either as fact or fiction, and aid you in falling asleep in the face of nightmarish death. Enclosed is a record of my first moment in this strange and unfamiliar land; I think you would have liked it, here.
With love,
Your mother.
The night, an early morning, was the dark kind of night that I had grown accustomed to. The shadows stretched long and easy to outline my path. I was accompanied by an air of languor and exhaustion; all the memories I had made to get here were beginning to fade into background noise.
That was what it was like, the moment I first arrived in the land called Helovia.
You see, I was quite good at navigation, and I had many years of gleaning information from the chatter of travelers beneath my belt. And so though I arrived in the darkest of nights (the kind where even the dark gray of my pelt seemed bright compared to the shadows,) I did not arrive unprepared. I knew, at least, that I was entering a land of magic and division in the prime of its winter with nothing to my name save for this shivering body I considered myself to be contained within. I knew, too, that the young mare in blue had once been seen walking this way. I do not expect that many others would have considered my knowledge to be anything but eerie, had I revealed it to their younger and lighter souls.
But nevertheless;
The moon was a high bauble, dangling above the canopy with no attachment I could find, and its sway was a mesmerizing thing. I remember looking up at it with the same curiousity I expect you would have, were you at my side, and letting it guide me further. There was nothing to turn away from and only one thing to pull me in further, and so by logic's whim alone I was drawn forth into that shadow. I stepped carefully, my long tresses caught up in the wind and frost, making a spectacle of my passage.
But let it be understood that this was not all on my mind, and this was not all that came to pass. The rest would come, in time.
[[Lyn is searching for @[Tiamat] but doesn't currently know she's in the Basin, so until she finds out she might be swayed to go elsewhere. Regardless of who she goes home with, she will leave for the Basin as soon as she learns of Tiamat's whereabouts, wherever that may be.]]
Ahvelyn
i wanted to tell you that things would be different this time
He gasps as he starts awake, the temptress’ name sliding and cracking from between his teeth in a snarl, muddled and clouded with the lingering fog of sleep. The stallion blinks blearily against the darkness, adjusting to the murky shadows that lay quiet around him. In his mind’s eye, the bright light and rolling hills of his homeland slowly fades, giving way to the thick trees and dancing moonlight of what must be reality. His large, hairy body, cocooned in the white powder of winter, lies tense and sweating despite the cold, a steady pale steam rising from his skin.
The bright green of his eyes is cast frantically around, confusion knitting his rugged brow together and mingling with the horror and shock that still knot tightly in his chest—lingering from the false reality that had clutched at him so ferociously. He pants against the discomfort, white breaths curling from his nostrils in thick billows, not daring to move yet as his mind stretches and string for answers, for an explanation. It had felt so real. He could have sworn that—just moments ago—he was back in Etherim, judged and persecuted by his very own exploitations.
How could it not have been real?
Somewhere, between the place of wakefulness and dreams, he has been held accountable, and it is now back in the certain, clenching grip of reality, that Rohan knows of nothing but to escape it. Heaving himself to his hooves, the Warlander stumbles forward into the darkness, not bothering to shake the snow that clings to the hair of his body as he moves in between the trees. He doesn’t know where he’s going or where to go—only to move.
It is by the light of the moon that he catches sight of her a short while later—a mare, tall and slender, wafting through the Threshold’s woods. She is beautiful, the dark hue of her skin makes it seem as if she would melt into and become one with the shadows at any moment, held only in her current form by the exotic blue lines that lace her body. Memories of a similarly marked mare—one of black and purple—surfaces amidst the restlessness of his mind, and he wonders if this particular beauty will be as fascinating as she. Perhaps the genetic anomalies of this strange place will tilt in his favor after all.
Snorting breathlessly to himself, the large stallion strides up to the stranger with a confident swagger, as eager for a distraction as she must be for company. “You look lonely, darling,” the breadth of his deep voice is almost booming in the silence of the night, despite the neutral volume of his tone, “are you lost?” His eyes catch the light of the moon as he settles comfortably in front of her, quite contented to share her company, all but disregarding her opinion of the matter.
I had begun to think I was entirely alone when I heard a word. It was distant and not unfamiliar; it was an utterance of shock and dismay that I had grown accustomed to hearing spring forth from my own lips upon waking to find myself unaccompanied.
It is a terrible thing to be lonely, son. I hope you understand that at least you have your brother and your sister beside you, even if I cannot be there. Someday, I will be, but we won't talk about when or why, we will just be together and at peace. However I expect this will be in quite some time, though time long deserved and understood, and so I must beg you to be patient.
When he arrived, he was not unexpected. He was the shaggy sort of beast that I expected to be hanging about in woods on a night like that, and not at all dissimilar to the other stallions I'd met along my journeys that had chosen to greet me as he did that evening. He stood close to my height, and perhaps were I younger I would have lifted my head higher than his crown. As it were, he was above me in some sense. I suspected this gave him a satisfaction he was used to claiming for his own. I considered passing him over and wandering beyond him--thought him to be useless, for a moment.
But though I knew enough of these lands to have found them, I couldn't deny that he could help me, in some manner, as long as he understood that I wasn't going to play his game.
Never play anyone's games, son.
I stepped forward in shadow, exhaling the same pale that rose from his sweat-soaked figure. We were painted in mist, for a moment. If I had loved him, or if he had loved me, it would have been romantic.
He called me darling, child. That is what he said. And in that night shrouded in shadow, in that earliest morning shrouded in solitude, I couldn't bring myself to care. I had been called so many things, his flattery was no exception to the rule my life had become. Perhaps once I would have felt a shudder of excitement, a glimmer of pleasure at attention, but before him I felt nothing.
When I call you darling, it is a different thing. When I call you love, when I whisper for you at the sunset, it is with sincerity. I hope you find someone who will be so honest with you. Such clarity of the heart is rare, such consideration of one's company is hard to find. Treasure what we have, and the total truth I write to you.
So I turned to him and I did not smile. I looked into his eyes, so bright an emerald hue that even the night could not guise their brilliancy, and let the cold of my blue ones seep into that exchange. He was so much younger; did he know I was twice his age? I didn't dare go closer, didn't dare let a sliver of moonlight cross my features and reveal my wilted frown or the white hairs freckling my expression. A part of me I wish I could deny, a part too rooted in old habits to understand a new world I was trying to make for myself--a world of opportunity, you see--liked being thought of as beautiful, still.
I started to walk away, as if uninterested. I started to take account of the world around me and its complete cold, its unforgiving and all consuming freeze. This was a land seemingly untouched by time or seasons other than a winter. It was as if everything was still, and time was slowed. Every breath felt labored, as if it lingered too long in my throat, and then after too long in the air before me.
But he asked me a question, and even if I was not willing to approach I would answer. So with my gaze unmoving even as my bodice trailed further and my expression dull and unimpressed, I smacked the top of my tail (so long that its ends did not even lift from the earth) against my hind and answered him. Was I lost?
"No," I replied.
And that was all.
[[@[Rohan]--Sorry this is weird and she wasn't chatty, I will get the hang of her, new chars are just always an experiment for a while, sorry.]]
Ahvelyn
i wanted to tell you that things would be different this time
08-08-2015, 12:47 AM (This post was last modified: 08-08-2015, 12:48 AM by Enna.)
something filled up my heart with nothing
Rohan.
It is with a strange sense of relief that you recognize the tall man, your steps quickening with the excitement that ignites in your foolish little heart. You had expected strangers at the voices that had mildly piqued your interest, strangers with strange faces and stranger motives, along with another botched attempt at offering them a home. Your mind flickers back to the swan of a mare that had swept you far from here, all pleasantries and smiles. You wonder if she felt much the same as you do now upon spotting the two-toned mare, dark skin accented by sky blue.
She is enough to give you pause, your eyes darting between the two of them, but the comfort of being with someone who isn’t a complete stranger in a place that you had been strangers with for far too long wins out. And so you move to brush past his familiarity, stopping when you are shoulder-to-shoulder, the heat from his body a welcome respite from the biting air. While your body has done well adjusting to your valley in the north, you are still not entirely impervious to the chill - especially the variety night brings. For a moment you ponder the pair’s sanity, your own sanity, but dismiss the thought entirely, chalking it up to the inability to sleep. Your eyes trace the side of his boyish face, noting the snow that clings half-melted to his skin, the way he may be even more beautiful than before, beneath the slivers of moonlight.
“Considerably less of an entrance this time, I’m afraid.” You smirk at him knowingly, eyes lingering for a moment longer before skirting to the mare that stands before the two of you, your easy smile fleeing along with your gaze as it leaves him. For moments you simply look at her, the way her hair tumbles down slender shoulders, the chill that exudes from her, something only you may feel but there, nearly tangible nonetheless, but most importantly, the way she looks at him. A shudder rolls down your spine, subtle as an earthquake, shaking your tiny frame; you exhale quietly then, the smile returning thinly to your lips.
“Welcome to Helovia.”
o lawd
i just wanted this up
;-;
please tag enna in every post
violence permitted barring permanent injury / death
For a moment, it seems as though the mare hadn’t heard him (because that is certainly the only conclusion, as fickle as it might be, that would explain why she does not turn to him initially) but his lips freeze beneath her stare when she at last graces him with her gaze. Her blue eyes, as frozen and empty as ice, shine coolly beneath the moon’s incandescent light. Rohan shifts beneath the weight of the silence between them, exhaling from his nostrils in a haze of vapor and watches as it frames her face—so beautiful and so cold, he feels intrigue when he should feel doubt.
Her body moves even though her eyes do not, and he waits, knowing that she will not leave him now (as much as his fitful, confident mind could understand). The answer she gives him is simple, direct, and detached—not unlike her expression—and suddenly he sees the irony in her bearings. A deep chuckle rumbles in the large stallion’s chest, the sound warming his body where her gaze had frozen. “No?” He plays gently, glancing at her from beneath his brow, “Then I suppose that makes one of us.”
The length of his thick tail (so thin compared to hers) whisks about his lower hocks, and his eyes trail momentarily through the forest. There is a lightness in his voice, his demeanor, not willing to admit even to himself the gravity of his statement, but the images of his dream linger to haunt his mind, jarring him. Is he lost, when he had run to be found?
Brushing away the severity like a fly on his flank, the antlered stallion shifts his weight closer to the blue-marked mare, as if the proximity of a woman would ease him (as it has done many times before). “My name is Rohan. Care to indulge me with your own?” He gives her something of a crooked smirk. Of course, if she is unwilling, he will not test her secrecy—he can leave many things to his imagination.
It is a familiar voice that then draws his attention out towards the snowy woods, green eyes sparkling as they glance down to the petite brown mare that has wafted to his shoulder. He almost doesn’t recognize her without a dramatic entrance, and his brown lips warm to a boyish grin and the vibration of his laughter sounds in his chest. “Don’t look so disappointed, sweetheart—I’m sure you’ll throw yourself at me again,” he gives her a teasing wink, somehow comforted by her closeness, her familiarity, when pictures and accusations insult him in their persistence.
“Yes, welcome,” Rohan adds to Enna’s greeting as he shifts his attention back to the strange mare—so fascinating and cold in her emptiness—his eyes narrowing slightly before his typical smirk returns to his lips. “I don’t imagine you’d prefer to spend the night alone?” He asks her, his voice lilting as he plays with the line between jest and suspicion, “No need to worry, I don’t bite too hard.”
notes; Ew I'm sorry x_x but hey! I can see the board finally!:D tag; Ahvelyn & Enna “Speech.”
It appears that this stallion was thick in some way--perhaps demented. He wasn't getting the sense that he meant nothing to me, that it would take a great deal more than flirtation to change that. He asked for my name with boldness, as if it was his right to know it.
I exhaled, white breath steaming and swirling before my features, catching moist on the fine white hairs that decorated my muzzle. My forehooves ached and shifted, my hind pair halted. Apparently he wasn't going to walk with me, or away from me, just unfortunately closer.
Luckily for me, before the silence became too lengthy for either of us to get past it, another appeared. A mare not unlike the stallion, draped in earthen hues and painted with stripes, sporting a pair of antlers. Just as I wondered if they were related, the stallion made some lewd remarks that are not for a child's ears.
And then it was quiet again. They had their exchange, greeted each other as old acquaintances, maybe lovers, and left me to answer them. They looked at me like I was impossible, then. Like they could not comprehend my quiet. Maybe they couldn't, talkative beasts that they were.
Others love to talk about themselves to the point where they will forget you have a voice. I lived this way for a long time, quiet in the company of creatures who didn't care to notice. But when I came to this land of conversation, this Helovia, my silence became something of an inconvenience. I was expected to speak and answer, too many years too late. I learned the power of my voice after I gave birth to you, son, and ever since I've regarded it differently. Not to be stamped upon or quieted, no, but not to be squandered or so easily called upon, either. My voice is my power, perhaps the only power I have. I would never give that up, never, for anyone but you.
Understand that, please. I would let myself be locked into silence, or allow the wicked to draw every word ever spoken from my tongue and bend me to tell them anything, if I could see you again.
At that point, it became obvious that my presence was making the pair uncomfortable. I wondered if they had never met one marked as I was, or if my reticence was simply a burden they weren't willing to bear.
But the mare seemed kind enough, and I saw no reason to eschew her as I did this brutish stallion. So I cast him a still and quiet look, the kind that would rob anyone of ease, and then directed all comments to the mare. She, at least, would not be after my back.
There are a lot of things I could have said to him, a lot of things you could say to anyone who speaks ill of or to you. But he wasn't worth the exhalation, son. And responding to that sort of behavior will only encourage.
Keep your venoms to yourself. It is there, unspoken in your breast as lingering threats, that they are the most deadly.
"Thank you," I answered, a bare hint of warmth in my tone. My blue eyes, dulled now from exhaustion, were focused only on the mare. "I'm looking for a place to rest, would you know of one?"
I turned, my head snapping back and long hair flying with it, back to the stallion. "Don't answer that. I'm not asking you." My tone had no mercy, my eyes rolled and the words rattled out into the air with sudden ferocity. He would learn, if not now then later, that his impishness would not be tolerated.
What do you think they expected of me? Kindness?
I have lost so much, son. I have suffered. Do you think he would speak so out of turn, if he had known my life?
Ahvelyn
i wanted to tell you that things would be different this time
‘Don’t look so disappointed, sweetheart—I’m sure you’ll throw yourself at me again.'
It is halfheartedly that you roll your eyes in a backwards glance towards the man, a feigned annoyance bleeding through. You cannot deny the surge of heat the words bring, your rapidly changing body and mind all too suddenly keen for the attention of men, nor the flash of embarrassment that warms your cheeks. There is always a time and place for everything, and here and now, this is not it, and so you give no further invitation. The woman before the two of you seems less than interested in what your sandstone man has to say, his jests falling on deaf ears, or on a woman who has heard it all before and cares not for the parading of young men like peacocks. You suppose cannot blame her for that, remembering how the attentions of the opposite sex used to make you gag. Her stare still unsettles you despite it being directed at Rohan, and something like defiance rises in your heart, despite the fact that he is more than capable of defending himself.
You shift next to him, nodding as she thanks you, unsure of the chill that leaves her in waves, caught in between trying to accommodate her and worrying for the feelings of your friend. Hope rises within your chest as she asks for a place to rest, both for the opportunity to drag her attention from him and the chance to fulfill the reason you came here in the first place: to offer the homeless a home. Your lips open, though her words speak over the squeak that emits, ears flicking back as she addresses Rohan yet again. You supposed he had asked for her distaste for him, asked for the sharp words and bitter stares, and you fight back your desire to defend him, sure that neither party would appreciate your (in your opinion) precarious position, your want to make both of them comfortable. “Well,” You begin again, your gaze briefly flickering to Rohan for a shred of confidence, a silent apology for both her sharpness and your lack of doing, well, anything, before turning back to the sky woman. “I can take you North to my home in the shadow of a mountain, the Aurora Basin. There are caves that keep us warm from the worst of the winter, and natural hot springs that can soothe aches, and provide a safe way to bathe in the chill.”
A certain pride is brandished within the words describing your home, though no description could ever truly benefit its beauty, the rugged perseverance of both the land and its inhabitants. “Which, it seems like you could use, Rohan.” You tilt your head in his direction, your Madonna smile growing with a certain deviousness as your eyebrow raises. You cannot remember if he had been part of one of the herds, but you figure it cannot hurt to offer him to tag along, even if he had no intentions of actually joining. With a slight shrug, you turn back to the woman, all sincerity and hopefulness.
“That is, if neither of you mind a bit more of a walk?”
08-11-2015, 03:50 AM (This post was last modified: 08-11-2015, 03:51 AM by Rohan.)
How fickle my heart,
and how woozy my eyes.
It doesn’t surprise the antlered stallion when the black and blue mare—whom he has now oh-so-affectionately dubbed ‘Frosty’ in his mind, given her icy demeanor and the fact that she has thus far withheld her true name—either ignores or glares at him. Aside from his sensitive moments, Rohan is a character who is generally unruffled by the petty discourtesies of others (having an ego that is large enough to accommodate more than just himself). His large frame relaxes with feigned comfort, chalking up the crawling of his skin to the wintry weather and giving her an exaggerated, if not a bit scornful, expression of affectionate regard.
Who does she think she is, anyway? Standing there, all gorgeous and frozen. This lady acts as if he is the one who has been rude since their meeting, when she is the one who will not even give her name, or talk to him in any tone other than contempt—hypocrite much? In any case, who is the one giving all the icy stares here? What has he done? The young stallion amuses himself—he has nothing to feel repentant for, after all—and his brown lips twist into a taunting smirk as an almost mocking chuckle rumbles deeply from his broad chest. “No need to worry about that, princess. I have taken to the wilds myself, and I daresay they probably wouldn’t suit your…delicate tastes,” Rohan is tempted to give her something irritating—a wink, a kissy face, anything—but he settles for a crooked, provoking grin and a light of overconfidence in his eye. It is all assumption, of course—he knows nothing about Frosty—but it just sounds so good sliding over his tongue that he couldn’t help himself. Exhaling from his nostrils, the antlered stallion shifts the green of his eyes to Enna when she hesitates an answer. Looking down, he gives her a more genuine smile. Had he known her thoughts, Rohan would have been grateful for the small mare not speaking up. Despite her insecurities about herself, he does not look for help—especially not in a situation as petty as this—and considers himself more than capable of handling Frosty and her beauty and bitterness. It is quite entertaining, if he is honest—a welcome distraction to sleep’s unsettling visions. Twisting an ear towards her, he purses his lips. He hadn’t remembered that Enna was from the Basin, had she said that in their initial meeting? For all of its judged faults, the mountainous fortress certainly does breed a fine class of ladies. If only. Still, he cannot resist Enna’s tantalizing grin with one of his own, and he pauses with a baited breath before continuing. “I’ll admit a place to rest doesn’t sound half bad, but as tempting as the idea is to vacation with you lovely ladies—” a dramatically playful glance is cast to the blue-marked mare, his eyes narrowing as his smirk broadens “—I’m afraid I don’t know much about this mysterious land in the mountains; perhaps all I’ve heard is myth.” There is almost a hint of hopefulness in Rohan’s voice, but it is quickly smothered by the verdict in his eyes. Would it be possible to rank beneath a fractured kingdom, knowing its faults? (Is there a kingdom that isn’t?) His eyes turn to Enna. “What do you know of your home?” It is an innocent question, playful in its bait. Does she know about its discrimination? Its intolerance? Could he live like that again?
The situation was not improving. My first impression of this land, at least as far as that stallion was concerned, that it was one of disrespect. And the mare's persistence, her futile attempts to ease the tension, seemed submissive in a disappointing way. But in her insistence was an offer of a place to stay, and I wasn't going to turn that down.
At that point in my life, everywhere was just a place to stay. A stop on a long journey with no apparent end, a fruitless search to find a child I'd seen once, long ago, out of the corner of my eye. I don't know why I sought her out so desperately, son. Perhaps I was hoping to find in her what I lost in you, perhaps I was hoping to repent for all my sins of inaction. But when I came to Helovia I expected nothing more than to stay, to wait, to look, and give up again.
Eventually I would discover that this was Loorien's end--that this land was a peninsula, jutting out from all the territories I had ever roamed during the time of my search. That would be a day to mourn, my son. We all have days like those, in our lives.
The stallion's tone, his phrasing, his very exhalations became intolerable at around that time, and so I started to walk before I even answered the kinder one. If her home, perhaps one filled with antlered beings such as this pair, was a place where he did not roam it sounded like a fine one to rest.
He had called me delicate, but if he had known my strength...
I pressed on. I walked forward, not knowing where I was going, not giving the stallion another thought and beckoning the mare only with a glance. "Yet another short walk is no trouble," I supplied her with, my eyes caught up then in the beauty of the night above, that early morning, that scene which beckoned dawn to come. Perhaps we would be at this home of hers when we arrived.
And it was cold, was it? Well, I didn't mind the cold. I had enough aches in my bones for the pair of these two combined, you see. And I was ready to move forward.
The closer I got to my goal, the farther it took me from you, the more anxious and impatient I became. I would have to overcome this, in time.
"Let you and I press on, then," I said with strength and firmness, choosing to no longer acknowledge the useless brute at my back. Surely she wouldn't suggest he tag along, would she? Even knowing him as she may have before, would she really want such a foul colt to accompany her?
And if she did, how long had she lived in such a pitiable manner?
[[Again, sorry. These will improve when I get to know her better outside of the threshold.]]
Ahvelyn
i wanted to tell you that things would be different this time
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