"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.
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
The world is a vast and silent place.
Snow had a way of muting sound when it fell—and fall it did, in large, tranquil flakes. It hid the darkness of tree trunks and boughs, masked the sharp edges of rocks and stones with a soft, white padding, and covered tracks. It would be easy to become lost in snow, taken by winter, and kept somewhere in the kind of frigid perfection of the weather.. until spring would come with its long days and rays of sunshine, burning and burning and burning until the perfection turned to rot. Spring had a way of always finding what winter had hid, and ruining it.
Briefly, he had the cheerful thought that he would rather be frozen solid and stay a glacial statue, than become a putrid, rotting carcass slowly falling apart.
And he wanted to say, 'of course I would rather be alive', but as he peered through the snowfall he couldn't say it with full honesty. He felt cold within, a chest full of icy jaws and black holes—he felt tired of grasping at the light everyone so praised and finding it to be like smoke, too elusive to hold and not inclined to shine on him anyway. Each time he left the sanctuary of his shadows and blizzards the sun touched him, thought about it for a moment, and then said 'nah' and left him within a shadow of its own.
He would rather stay in the shadows by choice. It made it hurt slightly less when he noticed it.
[ @Naerys .. I'm not sure why it decided to be so short, but it did. xD ]
08-13-2015, 11:26 PM (This post was last modified: 08-13-2015, 11:30 PM by Naerys.)
N A E R Y S
The death-like silence of winter was rather quickly becoming a welcome friend. It didn't matter any longer that winter was (and is) synonymous with cold, and vice versa. As she grew, Naerys changed. Not just in size or looks but in temperament. She had grown quiet and contemplative. Taking pleasure in the silence of a gentle winter storm. Winter means the cessation of nature's songs; no birds, no insects. Just the steady, consistent sound of her heart thrumming in her chest and her breath whooshing from her nostrils. And her flowers. Of course, how could she forget those persistent blooms. They grew, ignorant of the season, pushing through the snow and bursting to life with their bright purple and white blooms. They exist, dependent upon the contact of her hooves, and with her movement, they wither and die.
Life is so very fragile.
Teal eyes (the perfect blend of her mother's green and her father's blue) focus on the large passionflower blooms as she lifts a hoof. For a moment she is still, watching as the flowers near that hoof begin to rapidly wither away - the blooms shrivel and close, the petals begin to fall. And then she is gone; leaving the rest to suffer the same fate. Soon they would be covered by the snow once again. Soon every trace of them would be gone. Naerys moved quietly through the snow, her pace slow and deliberate. There is no clear destination in her mind, she simply moves.
She wanders until a tall figure, shrouded by shadow and snowfall, appears before her path. Her skin prickled with the surprise and her legs froze, though she managed to prevent a gasp from erupting from her lips. Recovering quickly, she moved closer - this time with purpose. It doesn't take her long to recognize him. In fact, his face was one that was difficult to forget (and that isn't even a sexual innuendo). His face and eyes aren't readable - perhaps because she is but six months old and has a lot left to learn or perhaps it is because he is so cold. Perhaps he is made of ice, somehow. Briefly, her imagination wonders if he would be cold to the touch - the way the ice or snow feel against the most sensitive areas of skin. Instead, she stands a few feet away, feathered wings hugging her sides for extra warmth. "Hello." she states simply. Nothing more seemed necessary. She knows who he is, if only by title, and she isn't important. Just a pegasus filly with passionflowers growing up around her hooves in the depths of winter.
[Well, she's being awkward. xD Sorry about that. Let me know if you want to be tagged. :D]
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
[ I am so, SO sorry about the wait on this :x ]
I can't see you
I can't hear you
Do you still exist?
The snow brought him something. In the peculiar silence-yet-sound of his clearing it came, slowly, at first little more than a disturbance at the outskirts of his awareness: something different to the sound of the snowfall, the hint of a scent in the still air... Black-rimmed ears flicked forward, and his head turned in her direction. Dark nostrils widened, drew in air, sampled it. Let it out again. He didn't think he knew her, but then again, he hardly knew everyone in the herd—a fault on his part, but also a consequence of inheriting his kingdom from a herd scattered.
Also, he thought sourly, the consequence of having a King he did not get along with, who could invite whomever the fuck he pleased and Mauja wouldn't have a clue.
(Not to mention Mauja could do the same, but that was not the point: the point was that Mauja did not wish to share power.)
But all that reflected in the blue labyrinth of his gaze was mild curiosity, a look he bore more as a memory of a time past than as a conscious action. Then, he had been all about smoothness, a small smile curving his lips, and that open way he looked at others, and thought, refusing to pass judgment until he had all the facts. Now.. well, now he sort of looked the same, out of habit, but when the tides turned within his mind, the change was rapid and often came leaking out in ways it never had before.
He simply wasn't strong enough to contain himself anymore.
What came out of the woodwork, though, was neither entirely unfamiliar nor did it seem dangerous. She was small, white splattered with a pleasant brown; leggy and young yet, but promising to become proportionate. Slim. Feathered wings were clutched to her sides, but that wasn't what drew his attention. The days when he had cared about such things were long gone.
No—that which caught his attention was the snow shifting around her feet, making way for.. flowers. They rattled the snow, forced their way up through the cold blanket and into the air, blooming and thriving with no sunshine and only the snowfall all around. His gaze flickered to her trail even as she greeted him. Where she had left them, they lay withered and dying.
Something about it was both beautiful and heartbreaking.
"Hi," he said, quietly—as always these days. He was tired of sound and of brashness, choosing to step with caution and care and listen rather than boast. Slowly, his head tilted to his side as his gaze traveled up to hers. The long mess of his forelock slid off of his face. "What's your name again? Ne, Na, something?" He had heard it, once; he had heard it goddamnit, but he was older now—more tired, more worn. Things stuck neither as quickly nor as deeply, and it left a guilty little bite in his heart.
WE HELD TOGETHER THE FRAGILE SKY TO KEEP OUR WAY OF LIFE
Her small hooves drag through the snow, soft yet careless, carving paths and disturbing the purity of the snow's previously untouched surface. It was simple child's play, an attempt to grasp for any semblance of control. With each step the divots grew gradually deeper until her hooves were scraping against the cold and frozen surface of the earth. The cut is deeper, the contrast more startling but the snow on either side collapses down upon it; healing it, hiding it. Soon, she knew, the falling snow would fill in the rest and leave little more than a memory. There is no reason to hurry. As a filly, her duties are heavily limited and mother disliked it when she left the Edge on her own. Mother worries but her reasons in this are just, at least.
Finding the KingQueen standing alone in a clearing wasn't exactly what she had expected to come across today but it also wasn't the most surprising. He seemed detached, cold even - more likely to be alone than the heart of a crowd unless he must. But who was she to judge? She whom had only seen him once before? She, a mere filly with so little knowledge of the world. Despite the hint of mild curiosity in his blue eyes, she approaches him with strength and resolve in her heart. Self-assured yet peaceful, almost tender - like she could somehow brighten his day.
The passionflower trail she'd left behind, quivering in death, drew his attention - brief but clear. Many had noticed them in her rather short past and many more are likely to notice in the future. Passionflowers, are quite impressive with their large blooms but they also have their uses. Uses that even she didn't know or understand yet. For a short time, the silence continued to envelope them; wandering gazes, nostrils 'tasting' each others' distinct aromas. He is large, far larger than her, with enough muscle to be both intimidating and... comforting. Perhaps strangely so. Mostly white, he blends in with the snow far easier than she especially - she considers with mild amusement - during a winter storm. Envy buds in her chest at the thought of being so shrouded. Hiding without hiding.
When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly quiet though not entirely unpleasant. Teal eyes search his face, seeking any hints of emotion, but come up empty. The spotted Queen, it seems, has a wicked poker face. He moves slowly, tilting his head. Her eyes follow his forelock as it slides off his face but snap rather quickly back to the ice blue of his gaze when his voice breaks the silence once more. "Naerys." she replies softly, offering him a gentle smile. Right now, she's a nobody; not even remotely special. To take offense to him not remembering her name would be petty and foolish. "And you are Mauja, unless you'd prefer I call you something else." like Queen? Her voice is gentle and warm, echoing his quietness with her own. "Do you like being alone?" she asks innocently, pinning him with her curious gaze. Truth be told, she prefers quiet solitude - large crowds with their boisterous tongues are enough to make her wince. Absently, the small girl fluffs her feathered wings, fighting off the chill that has begun to send shivers throughout her petite and lean body.
[ @Mauja this post really didn't want to come out but here it is. they should improve with time! ]
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
Once, he had been perfection: every detail of life carved into his memory, etched into the very lining of his skull. Once, he would never have forgotten her name, and needed to ask for it again.
But that had been then—a hazy past lost in these very fogs, scattered in the blizzards of the north.
Now, he was broken. No one. Nothing. He was a dreamer and a drifter, stubborn and restless, bound and fettered by his own beliefs, unable to act, yet malcontent in this peace. He was without purpose, fragments of the past flickering across his body as he tried to make his way through this changed world—through his changed self.
It wasn't only his memory and attention that was broken. Once, he had had a purpose, and now he simply mourned how easy life had been then, how.. given. He had risen, he had plotted, he had breathed in the toxic fumes of his misled faith, and there .. he had failed.
He peered at Naerys through the softly falling snow. Would she stand there, so peacefully, if she knew of all the vile things his mind had thought? If she knew of all the plans he had once harbored and nurtured?
And never carried out.
The closest he had come to tasting life had been his little spat in the Throat, the one that fell so short of its mark and left the Plague in shambles. Before that, they had been an unknown, reckless force, perhaps capable of great evil—they had battered themselves against the rest of Helovia, and bled out into the sand like so much blood. Harmless. The power of the unknown broken.
Was this grief? This drawn-out process of remembering, of reflecting, this burning frustration at all he had been, and could not be anymore?
He could still be cruel; he simply could not justify acting upon it.
"I prefer Mauja," he answered her, his voice a soft sigh, his gaze absent-minded—too lost in the past he was trying to shake off yet clung to as if it was the only thing that could save him.
Irma swept down from a nearby tree, white wings ghosting through the snowfall, and settled lightly upon his scarred withers. The pin-prick pain of talons breaking skin was familiar, old and comforting; ruby red droplets glittered against the snowy white of his skin. Something about it reined his mind in, made him blink, some focus returning to his gaze. Naerys was peering at him with curiosity, her question hanging in the air. And what would he say? If he said, yes, would she leave?
He didn't want her to leave.
And yet part of him wanted to simply.. walk out of the Edge, and wander again. See what the world brought him. See the sunrise from the Fields, dance under the auroras on the Steppe, watch the light bounce through the icy perfection of the Arch, explore the parts of the Meadow he had never explored before... See the world; see what it would bring him; dull the pain in his chest with the simple act of doing and saving his bitter tears for the loneliness of darkness.
"Sometimes," he said instead, white tail flicking once. A heartbeat later, "Do you?".
10-03-2015, 11:53 PM (This post was last modified: 10-03-2015, 11:54 PM by Naerys.)
WE HELD TOGETHER THE FRAGILE SKY TO KEEP OUR WAY OF LIFE
To say that Naerys would be equally as content to stand before him with the knowledge of his past or the inner workings of his mind would be a lie. She would likely behave with a bit more caution but she would not and could not run from him. Thoughts that never lead to action are simply thoughts; good, bad, or indifferent. Perhaps it is mother and father's influence or perhaps it is her childish innocence but, to her, there is good in Mauja. Being stone-faced or simply showing very little emotion is hardly a crime. If anything, it gives her a challenge. One that she is ready and willing to accept.
But don't misunderstand, she doesn't want to change him. To her, there is nothing to change. Mauja is who he is, shaped and molded by his past. Changing him is the furthest idea from her adolescent mind. Instead, she longs to see past his icy exterior and into the tenderness she believes lies within. Perhaps she could even learn from him. His brand of stoicism certainly has uses, right?
The snow continues to fall softly around them, blanketing the soft feathers of her wings and coating the dark strands of her youthfully short mane. Her warm breath fogs the air just past her velvety nose. Her eyes continue to watch him, hardly daring to shift; even for a second. Afraid, perhaps, that he would slip away in the snowfall and disappear - either out of a desire to be alone or to seek the peace that her mere presence has shattered. But he is steadfast; unflinching. Reinforcing in her the idea that the ice hasn't permeated to his heart. Building on her childish hopes with unfounded, and perhaps even reckless, abandon. 'I prefer Mauja,' he confirms, his voice a soft sigh; a mere whisper of breath on the cold air. Suddenly, he just seems...tired; worn down by life. Naerys simply nods, finding no use for words, and knows she won't forget.
The pale beauty of a snowy owl descends silently to land upon the stallion's withers. It took everything the girl had to not bound towards them and bombard Mauja with questions. Somehow, she managed to retain her calm, collected composure. Her light-hearted gaze drifts to the bird; the girl's eyes are brighter, more reminiscent of a tropical sea. "She's beautiful." she remarks, a smile curling her soft lips. "Mama has an owl, too. He's much smaller, though." the girl explains, as her gaze finally drifts from the owl and back to him.
She takes a step forward, then another. Abandoning the pillow of passionflowers that had grown and bloomed from around her hooves as though it were spring - breaking through the snow without care. The girl inches closer and closer, part of her wondering when he would tell her to stop, or if he would turn away, or back up. Would he try to escape or remain frozen though ever cautious, ever careful? Would he welcome her closeness like a father figure? She couldn't help but wonder. Couldn't stop her hooves from gliding carefully forward in the snow, step by precious step decreasing the distance between them. Only does his voice cause her to pause. She'd been expecting his answer, so it was hardly a shock when he admitted it to her. Though that didn't stop a pang of sadness from touching her heart, no matter how brief. His question hangs in the air between them for a heartbeat, maybe two. "Sometimes." she confesses, peering up at him through snow-dusted eyelashes. "When I want to be alone, I just... explore." she replies, then with one more step forward she simply pauses - torn between asking if he'd like to take a walk with her and simply seeking the warmth of his body by her side.
The flowers behind her wither and die, the snow slowly burying them. Those dead and gone are slowly replaced with new flowers beneath her still hooves. It is an act and a reminder; one that plants a seed of hope in her chest. "Would you like to walk with me?" she asks, almost cautiously. Surely mother wouldn't mind. She is safe with him, right?
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
To think, that once he would've liked to tear the wings from her shoulders. Envy is a powerful thing, dark and brooding, a slow, crippling poison—envy coupled with fear even more so. It was, he figured, what brought nations to ruin, and families to war.
Back then, he had been afraid, and not of hollow bones or feathers—no.
He had been afraid of himself. Of what lay deep within his frozen soul, buried in hundreds of feet of snow and ice.
Now, he simply knew it for what it was—bittersweet envy, and a dream too painful to dare to touch. Because what in this world could be more cruel, more hope-shattering, than a deep, profound desire of something you could never achieve? Something you could never feel? Something you longed for so much it made your heart ache?
Wanting to fly was like wishing the beloved dead to rise.
So, he hid those dreams still, let them lay asleep in tombs of ice and marble—but where they had been forgotten before they now had carefully engraved headstones, lovingly labeled and sometimes dusted off.
But still, they were hopeless dreams, broken thoughts, barely-acknowledged realizations and longings. Painful. Distant.
Hardly worth ripping out wings over.
Had to be stupid in your youth, though. How else would you grow wise?
The lens through which he saw the world was much different now—and it saddened him that so much of his existence had been reduced to a comparison between now and then, like it could somehow explain things and give him purpose again. It was no wonder he was so down, so lost, when now simply became another then, a yesterday, a day before yesterday, until it would be years past.
For Mauja, there was no today.
"She's beautiful. Mama has an owl, too. He's much smaller, though." People tended to call Irma beautiful, look to her for some sign of affection, appreciation, thankfulness for their kind words and kind attitude—but Irma was a stone cold beast, with a heart as frigid as her eyes. Yet to deny the girl's words would be stupid. The palest white of winter coupled with the deep, metallic blue of Spark (he supposed; he'd never asked the God if he was behind it) spread out across her back.. she was beautiful, and deadly, and all the more beautiful for it. "Oh," he simply said, though part of him wanted to flip his forelock and fire off a brash grin and say you should see my other one, he's even bigger. "What kind of owl is he?" Maybe his would've seen it around. Maybe, they already knew he was a bondmate to someone, and let him be for that reason.
Then.. she came closer, leaving her passionflowers behind to wilt without her presence. His gaze drifted down to them, to their struggle for a life they would not have, devoid of sun and summer warmth—brief, beautiful, and gone just like that. Where she stepped, they rose, and when she passed, they died. It was cruel.
Mauja had always been composed out of small signs, the bat of an eye, a slight smile, the twitch of his tail—never one to scream, never one to cry.. and when the darkness was kept at bay, that was still true. Fragile warmth nestled in his eyes as he watched the girl approach, wondering what about him that drew them in. Myrrine had shown much of the same hesitant fascination. And then, she paused when he replied, before mirroring his answer back at him.. and mentioning exploring.
The small smile on his lips turned bitter and curved.
"Would you like to walk with me?" she asked. Explore, he thought, something dull ticking in the back of his head. Explore, maybe her as much as the world; him, as much as the world.
"Of course," he responded, drifting into motion, silent as the snowflakes.
[ @Naerys -- he's not giving much yet but :x hopefully it'll come in the next couple of posts! ]
11-11-2015, 02:35 AM (This post was last modified: 11-11-2015, 02:36 AM by Naerys.)
Hold on to me because I'm a little unsteady
He would have to rip her wings from her shoulders for her to distrust him or treat him with the caution he might deserve. Perhaps that makes her foolish but even if he told her the deep, dark secrets of his heart and mind right then and there she still wouldn't reject him. She still wouldn't run from him. The man he used to be might have torn her wings from her body but he isn't that man anymore. What she sees is largely a mystery, his strangely stoic, frozen expression does little to reveal him and whom he really is down to the darkest depths of his soul. Her instincts, as innocent as they are, tell her enough. Somewhere beneath that icy exterior is a softness and warmth. Somewhere beneath the layers of snow is a tender, vulnerable heart. There had to be, right? It isn't possible for him to be some sort of abominable snowman on four legs, or is it?
No. In her innocence she is adamant of her answer. Her king - scratch that - queen isn't as cold as he appears. It just isn't possible. Her refusal to believe in the existence of anything dark and negative shouldn't entirely come as a surprise, though. The girl is young, after all, a mere baby beside Mauja; in age as well as experience. What experience did she really have? She'd been born in the Edge and it is here that she still lives. She was there for the Earth God's quest, though to say that she was old enough to make sense out of the need for the flood would be a lie. Collecting the buckets of water, the food, the animals in pairs - the whole thing had been a simple but fun game for the girl at the time. After that came the invasion, of which she saw nothing. Arguably, her worst or darkest experience to this day was the separation of her family; watching her father walk away and never come back.
Yet even that likely pales in comparison to Mauja's experiences.
Naerys could probably compliment the snowy owl all day - her beauty, as deadly as it could be, is endlessly attractive to the young girl. But she'd never expect anything in return. Never. Largely, she expected the owl to ignore her, or to give her the same cold stare that frequented the stallion's face. The compliment is given without expectation of reciprocation. More than anything it was simply a statement. A statement of something so obvious the words themselves seem pointless. 'Oh, what kind of owl is he?' It's a simple reply, short and to the point. Truth be told, she'd been hoping for something more. The girl is trying to worm her way through his icy exterior and into the warm depths of his heart but despite her efforts - he gave her nothing. She doesn't allow herself to become disheartened, instead she simply offers another one of her winning smiles. "He's a flammulated owl." she says proudly, only half amazed she said it without fumbling over the awkwardly long word. Compared to Irma, Hemlock is an absurdly small owl. Almost comically so, but the small owl is no less feisty. No less stubborn.
She seems to abandon her flowers without so much as a second thought. Instead, he is her focus and for a moment she saw a warmth in his pale eyes that she hadn't noticed before. It lifted her spirits while it was there, pressing the smile more firmly into her lips. That tiny glimpse only increased her desire to bridge the gap between them, stoking the longing to press her lips to his shoulder or bury her face against his muscular chest. The very thought made her heart race and flutter inside her chest. But in her hesitation, the moment slips away from her grasp.
'Of course.' he says and, as quietly as she'd expected he drifts into motion.
As gracefully as she can manage, she falls into step beside him. This time, though, the space between them is minimal. The girl longs to feel his heat, yet relishes in the nearness of his larger form by her side. She is careful to follow his lead, careful to avoid tripping herself or him. "Where would you like to go?" she asks, even though where doesn't matter to her so much as the company. Naerys, the naive youth, would follow Mauja to the ends of the earth. Is it a mistake? Maybe. Does she care? Not in the least.
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
"He's a flammulated owl."
"Oh."
What was a flammulated owl, anyway? He wasn't sure he had ever heard the word before, and it sounded really weird, like some stupid mixture of flambé and mutated. Flambutated owls... If it hadn't been for the clear and proud way she had pronounced the stupid word he would've thought she'd gotten it wrong, somehow—and that had nothing to do with age. Mauja was sure the only reason he would remember flammulated was because it sounded so darn stupid. Then again, he might as well remember it incorrectly because it sounded like nothing else and for all anyone knew he might as flambutated the next time.
In the back of his head Irma snorted, and flashed him an image of a tiny, black-eyed owl. The size of it was ridiculous. So either flambutated owls were ridiculous or Irma was exaggerating the whole thing.
But then they were moving, slipping through the forest—through the snowfall, like something in the corner of his eye tracked the pattern of the snowflakes and let him weave around it, leaving only his filling hoof prints as proof he had ever passed at all. "Where would you like to go?"
She was radiating warmth in the snow, her feathers whispering as she moved, their tips sometimes stirring the air so close to his skin but never quite touching—shorter legs unfurling to keep a steady pace, hooves and passionflowers finding purchase underneath the white blanket. The falling snow covered those up, too, those wilted corpses, and as he glanced down at her he forced himself to not peer at them. Something about the brief, fragile lives, their beauty and fragrance, broke his frozen heart.
"Anywhere," he simply said after a moment, lapsing into silence as his eyes returned to the winding path ahead of them.
(Anywhere, as long as it is with you—)
She brought him peace.
[ @Naerys || Just have it end here, maybe? <3 And yes to more Maurys. ]
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