"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.
Her Lavender eyes opened after the bright blinding light went away then she saw it. The world was crimson and her golden body stood out greatly from the red leaves and blood like falls behind her. She had no clue what just happened all she knew is she wasn't at home anymore The Rift was gone. She was in a new place. Her black markings started to turn a light purple as her eyes widened then as she looked down she realized she was standing in the bloody water. She stood up on the bank around the others that might know what was going on in this strange strange world. Her beautiful golden coat was drenched with water as she stood up on the bank and her black markings glowed purple and the scent of lavender was very relevant due to the growing lavender flower from her mane. Her thick black tail flicked as she began to walk over to the others."Where am i at?? And who are all you ?" She rolled off with a thick French accent as she drew closer to the crowd of confused equines "I am Adonné" She drew with a heavy breath wondering closer and closer to the Natives of this so called Helovia.
The scent of Lavender flooded around her and her glowing markings illuminated the shadows under her fit body. Adonné peered out of her long flowing forelock as she awaited an answer. She played the sweet innocent role for now, there was no point in trying to play any other role right now. She knew exactly what she had to do. She needed to find out what is going on then get away from all these people to make her mark on this new world. She was taking advantage of everything she could right now and she will get what she wants here at all costs. Her purple glowing hooves slowly started to fade back to black as her emotions started to calm down she had to get this under control. "So what is this new land called?" she bumped in softly with a sweet voice dripping from her mouth like honey.
IF THERE'S ONE THING I'VE LEARNED IN LIFE ITS TO FIGHT. FIGHT FOR WHAT'S RIGHT. FIGHT FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN, WHAT'S IMPORTANT TO YOU. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, FIGHT FOR THE ONES YOU LOVE, AND NEVER FORGET TO TELL THEM HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU WHILE THEY'RE STILL ALIVE.
Amani and I had left the Dragon's Throat together to travel North for our assigned patrol. The plan had been to get to where we needed to be and wait for the rest of our group to arrive but.... the plan ended up changing. I think we were both curious when we looked down and could see horses all seemingly migrating in the same direction. And, well, we were patrolling so I figured we might as well see what was going on. So I signaled to Amani and I changed my course and flew in the direction that I could see others heading.
It only took a few minutes for us to get there since we were able to fly, but there was already a crowd. Among the crowd I saw my aunt, Roskuld, and Cathun... and some bloody stallion that I hadn't seen before. It took all of my will power to stay were I was and wait for Amani to land when every fiber of my being was pulling me toward Ros. I snorted to myself and tucked my wings tightly against my side and I tore my eyes away from her and looked at everyone else. What was even going on? Who were they? Why were they so ... strange looking?
And then I kind of realized how red everything was. Like the whole land was drenched in blood, absolutely soaked in it and it made my stomach churn uneasily.
"What is this place...?" I wondered and I looked toward my partner as if she would have an answer even though I knew she wouldn't. The only thing I knew for sure was that we needed to tell Gaucho or Megaera or even Ampere about this land that we'd never seen before.
They were brats, naive and reckless and so incredibly stupid in their wanton bravery that Cathun didn't even have the heart to snap back at them. Instead he simply followed, cursing under his breath as he descended into the forest, silently quivering in unease as dusk settled around him, tinted in red and altogether horrible.
He hated the thought that his newfound friends would think of him as a coward. The truth however was that he didn't even want to be brave in situations like these. What was there to gain by throwing yourself into the jaws of danger, what could one possibly achieve by meddling with things that went far beyond your own levels of power or understanding? War was one thing, but this kind of situation where strong magic was at play was a completely different matter.
He loathed himself more and more for every step he took, he knew he would end up paying for it sooner or later, and no sooner had he appeared at the edge of the clearing than he felt his predictions had come true.
Aliens. There was only one word for it; he had no other way to explain the vividly colored, misshapen and peculiar creatures that crowded around each other. The air was full of confusion, suspicion and wariness, and at the center of it stood a creature that reeked of so much power that Cathun blanched, nausea mixing with anger, hatred and fear.
A god. It had to be. That, or something very similar.
Well, that settled it. He wasn't sticking around to see what would happen from now on - if this was some kind of cult getting ready to worship he was out of here.
He had already turned to leave when a familiar face flashed across his consciousness from amidst the crowd. Ranjiri? Wishing to disbelieve but unable to disregard his own eyes the young stallion pushed his way over to her, agitation only barely suppressed behind a mask of worry.
"Hey, we should get out of here!" he urged, for the second time that day. "I don't know what's going on, but this is not a good place to be."
His amulet was humming worse than ever, the enchantment fluctuating under the force of the god's presence - or was it the whole place? It didn't matter, he didn't care, all Cathun knew was that he couldn't afford to linger much longer.
"I'm getting out of here, I'll..." he scrambled for the fist thing he could think of, desperate for any excuse that wouldn't label him as a sissy or coward, "go alert the Throat of what's going on. You should too!"
And he hurried off, hardly staying so long that a reply would reach his ears. He didn't want her to dissuade him or fill his brain with any heroic thoughts of self-sacrifice or heroism. That wasn't for him - he had little enough time as it was anyway without playing savior of a world he didn't give a shit about.
@Ranjiri
Wonder Why A Lone Wolf Don't Run With A Clan
only Trust Your Instincts And Be One With The Plan
DEAD I AM THE DOG, HOUND OF HELL YOU CRY
DEVIL ON YOUR BACK, I CAN NEVER DIE
Child. The giant's ears flick backwards in irritation - he is almost a man grown, as far from a child as it is possible to be. The mare addressing him is a queer combination of bird and unicorn, and he flicks his crimson gaze up and down her, quickly coming to the assumption that she is one of the newcomers. Unusually, he has a small amount of tolerance for her jibe, because this woman has likely just been spawned here out of nowhere and perhaps where she is from, one is considered a child until their tenth year, or something similar. At her question, he looks over to the white-painted man who tingles with electricity; he has never met him before, but the behemoth could hazard a guess that he is a God. "Helovia is a land - the land you now stand in. We are its residents. Where are you from, and how did you get here?" He fixes her with his stern, bloodied gaze.
She asks about the reigning Gods, and again he looks to Sparky over in the corner. "I am not too knowledgeable on the Gods - I have only met one, named the Earth God. He is a stallion far larger than you or I, and he can bestow his earthen abilities on those he deems worthy." Like me, he thinks, and almost ruffles with pleasure. "There is another, a Moon Goddess, but I have never met her." He only knows of her through Isopia; she had killed the filly's brother. If the spark-stricken man is also a God, that makes three, but Volterra cannot be fully sure of that, so he doesn't elaborate further.
Do you work with the darkness? The beast's massive head tilts slightly. I AM the darkness, he wants to say, but doesn't. "I work for nobody," he rumbles instead. On his back, his blood-dragon scrambles up and perches between his ears so he, too, can scrutinise the stranger. "Owl-smells," comes his bonded's voice, still a strange sensation in the yearling's head. Indeed, this woman appears to be more than just a pegasus, or a hybrid like Isopia; she is elaborately coloured and feathered. "What is your name?" he questions.
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ] [ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
Some would say that there was nothing worse than having to fear for your life each minute of everyday. Yet for those raised amongst the turmoil one learns to tune themselves out to the white noise of it all and just focus on the bits that mattered. Hardened to the reality you would think that there was nothing that could catch you off guard and throw you for a loop, but as always you would be wrong. As the planet revolves things change and if you wish to survive you either adapt or die along with the rest of them that were either unsuitable for this new world or weak and decrepit. Thus was the way of the world whether you liked it or not. As the season's progressed things had always stayed relatively the same until that fateful day that would change everything they had ever known.
Picking his way through the diseased landscape the young stallion wandered. No destination had ever really been decided upon but for as long as the world remained this delluded hell nobody was ever safe. Movement meant survival for if one stayed in one place too long you would either become infected by the land or perish along with the weak and unworthy. Today had been one for the record books though with such strange occurances. One minute everything around him carried the tell tale dullness of home and the other..well he wasn't entirely sure how to describe it. It had begun with the loud crack of lightning followed by everything going black. Whether things had finally reached their breaking point or he was dead remained unknown to the young lad as he struggled to get a grip on what was happening. Disoriented and blinded by the darkness he felt his body falling until everything around him was consumed by a flash of light. Where there had once been air, a liquid now replaced it cutting his breath short as panic shot through his frame. Ripping his eyelids open he briefly thought that this was death for everything around him was consumed by a red liquid. Was he drowning in his own blood? What in the hell was going on!
Flailing about violently he felt his stuggles moving him along somewhere. Trying desperately to see he whipped his head back as his feet strained against the fluid until air once again managed to fill his lungs. Coughing harshly in an attempt to expel the water from his lungs his hooves dug into something that felt oddly like dirt. Not caring what it may be he managed to heave his body to shore only to collapse in a heap. The presence of voices roused him enough to risk opening his eyes once more. Expecting to see blood he was highly surprised when greenery and the figures of other horses/horse species filled in the gaps around him. In the middle of the confusion a lone figure stood out amongst the rest for the sheer powerful aura he admitted was immense. Stumbling to his feet he was amazed to find himself alive and for the most part in one piece, albeit soaking wet but ALIVE! Hacking once or twice more he finally managed to find words. "What in the hell just happened? Where are we?" He commented echoing the same questions as a few of the others nearby. This was not the same place he had been only moments before... for shit sake there was a blood red waterfall behind him! Others had spoken of other lands before but all had been myths and legends...or were they?
•• TAGS: •• NOTES: ••
“Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie.”
In such a short time, there were so many faces. Her heart accelerated, fear spiking bright and white-hot against her mind, coursing through her blood. She trembled, muscles quivering as she watched them; those she had seen, those she had not but were from the same great place she was, the broken world of the Rift. So many echoed her questions, so many talked but Seren listened and in between the cracks and crumbling, she heard what she needed - Helovia, a new land. A new place. It was not Nocturne, dragging her back so she could face her demons. It brought her little comfort, but she was still feeling overwhelmed. She needed to run, run away, and let things become quiet again to find her bearings. Panic grew inside her chest, and the horned woman, shimmering light from her coat and her horns, turned away from them; she did not leave, but she moved away - she wanted to fade into the outskirts, to be unnoticed, and so she listens to them. So many unfamiliar faces.
So she would listen and learn, but Seren did not take part in their conversations. She wanted to run, but she knew she could not run. She heard the one with the bright red eyes speak of Helovia as well, and how tall he was - but she remained dead silent, lips locked hard against any intrusive thought. She did not want to bring attention upon herself.
So on the edge she will remain, but so ready to run at the smallest provocation, panic holding her heart captive in its terrible claws...
note; this is Seren out, she'll be listening but won't be posted again here <3 she has arrived, and if anyone wants to thread please send me a pm! :D <3
Ashamin awoke. Ashamin heard the world expand in a great sound like a bubble bursting. Ashamin ran east.
With every hoof-fall he wondered if he was right. As he cantered forth into unknown territory, beyond his cave with Lochan left behind and asleep, beyond the frostbreath steppe, and to a place he'd never before seen, he wondered if he was right. He looked for purple, he listened for the sounds of war.
But everything was only electricity.
He looked down at the scene from atop the crest of a hill, his heartbeat so rapid he felt as if her were floating, and surveyed. In a waterfall seemingly soaked with blood, a god rested his wounds.
And though Ashamin had never yet seen a god, or his god, he knew it was a god. And he knew, with the faint hum of lightning crackling through the air, it was the God of the Spark.
He bowed. Far enough away that he could not make out faces and could only recognize the rather colorful crowed to be full of strangers, it was quite likely that he was unseen. But he bowed, his knees grinding into the earth, and lowered his head. His sarong, white and bloodstained, touched delicately to the earth. His ears hummed with the pumping of his own blood.
The haruspex was young, and without the company of his companion he was in some ways alone. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't know where he was, or who it was that made up the vast crowd before him. He thought he spotted Rikyn. Maybe others, it was all a blur. But he knew, he was in the presence of a god.
And then, Ashamin heard His voice and started to shake.
""
[[Migraine crap. Wanted to get this in while I still could.]]
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
Love, I apologize for the great length of time that has passed since I have last written to you. Your brother has needed my tending. Understand that he is younger than you, now, by so many years that it feels unimaginable. You are the strongest of my children, I have always known that and considered you to need my advice less and less as you age.
But perhaps that was my mistake. And so I will regale to you now the story of the clash of the worlds and the Gods that occurred not long after my arrival in the land called Helovia, and with patience and trust I hope you will listen. I understand this land is distant form yours, perhaps you cannot even picture it.
Still, I will ask you to try.
I had only just settled into the Aurora Basin when the whole world seemed to shift. I was given the impression that I had arrived at the wrong time, but still I had arrived and there was nothing more to do about the matter.
Following what appeared to be droves of other equines, a sea of activity, I headed East. Eventually I came to a place that I could not describe to your brothers, but I trust you can picture without fear.
It was a waterfall, a fountain, made of blood. At least, upon first blush, that was how it appeared to be. But as I drew closer, pushing past a rather incredulous and dumfounded looking young paint with his nose practically buried in the earth, I saw the the fuss was not about the strange appearance of the land so much as it was about the great beast resting in its center, and the collection of equines and creatures around him.
Being as new as I was to the land, I knew nothing of gods, nor the fact that this corner of helovia was never before seen.
So I simply waited, and watched, and observed.
In a few moments, everything would change.
""
[[As with Ashamin, this is written with a migraine so please forgive any grossness.]]
[ Apologies if this sucks, it's a bit too much of a thread to read through properly and react to everything... :( ]
The world yawns wider.
He was vaguely aware of moving.
Come!
It echoed around in his head like a bouncing ball, come come come come come come, excitement blurring the lines between where one word ended and the next began.
He was pleasantly stuck in a state halfway between sleep and wakefulness until two things happened: Diego screeched in his ear, and the world trembled to the sound of a wet drum.
Blue eyes snapped wide-open. He was out on the Thistle Meadow (when had he gone there?), the sky was—well, the sky was the sky, but his owls were screeching and before he even knew what he was doing he was running.
He followed them blindly and it let him to a scene he had not expected to ever see; the God of Spark, bleeding in a pool of red. Elding, holding a sword. Ophelia, Nyx. A few other half-familiar faces. And lots of weird creepers looking lost.
Okay, they weren't that weird—they were colorful and different, with growths, changing coats, outlandish in a way that he mostly found artful or interesting.
He knew where he had to go, though. First he passed Nyx, touching her shoulder in greeting. Then Ophelia, offering her his muzzle, but not pushing it—would not be hurt if she did not greet him back. Then, eyeing the bleeding God warily, he moved up to Roskuld—
—and that's when all hell breaks loose for him.
lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
The land had been strange for so long now that when whatever powerful magic that held it fast in its stationary slumber finally broke, Torleik felt as though a considerable weight was suddenly dragged through his body. Like he'd suddenly been yanked forward through all the time he had unknowingly been absent from participating in. Confused at this feeling, and at the strange pull he felt calling him north, the Bloodskald shook his head, trying to think back on the days past.
What had he done?
What had anyone done?
Why could he not...remember much? A frown scarred his dark features, mirrored by a feeling of unease permeating the bond between himself and Irelyn, but the two of them moved forward. An urge in Helovia almost always meant something magical, and Torleik was not fool enough to ignore it. If there was something magical happening, especially if it had anything to do with the gods, odds were Ophelia would be there - and he certainly would not shirk the responsibility of arriving to keep his woman cared for. Safe. Not that...she needed him, overmuch.
'Stoppit.'
He couldn't help but smile a little; Irelyn had his emotional interests in mind always. The trip was not short, but he kept to the north coast as much as he could, avoiding incidental trespass in the Hidden Falls when the land loomed. He'd fought here. That memory was still intact. Interesting. The rabicano crossed the river that fed into the herdland just south of him and met mountainous terrain, spurred still onward, the feeling stronger now. What was here? What was he going to find? A sense of dread began to fill him; such urges, while magical, were not often good. Gods help him if...he was drawn here because of Ophelia.
'Sparks.'
Torleik's mood plummeted. The goddamn Time God? Really. 'And Ophelia?' he queried in return, using Irelyn's eyes as a scouting tool.
'Yes. And daughter.'
Fabulous. A whole damn family reunion, he growled bitterly to himself. So it was that the shift of the environment went somewhat more unnoticed than it would have to the Bloodskald, veiled as his perceptions were by anger and suspicion. But it was impossible not to notice what seemed like blood everywhere, and the panic threatened to rise up from the miasma of unease that flooded his system. Irelyn had said nothing of Ophelia being injured, he reminded himself, so surely she was fine? Spotting her pristine white form amongst the others that had gathered (so he was not the only one to feel the call) was as simple as taking a deep breath and he cut a wide, firm path to her side.
His glacial eyes were affixed, however, to the Time God, no empathy found in his breast for the bleeding divine. If a god could bleed...it could die. This was a warrior's assessment of the enemy in front of him - and Torleik very bluntly considered the God of the Spark anything but an ally.
And then there was Mauja. Moving on, but the Bloodskald was no fool. He'd seen the drawback of his white muzzle, and the dark male tried to suppress a sneer and the urge to slice his pretty face. Two threatening others was...perhaps more than the general-turned-leader could properly take. His temper was not so controlled, his self-confidence not so thick, his faith in anything at all not so strong. Silently, he bumped Phi's shoulder with his muzzle, and as the security of being next to her sunk in, the pikes in his defenses lowered every so slightly. A wounded god could die, yes, but would not a wounded god look favorably on a mortal who did not take advantage of such a state? Besides, what would it benefit him to see the Time God ended, other than a panacea for his insecurities and jealousies? Such...petty, mortal things, Torleik mused dourly.
And as his thoughts and emotions worked themselves out, he wondered: what had been powerful enough to make the god bleed? It was...a potentially lethal thought. If it could wound a god it could annihilate mortals - and that was of concern. This place, drenched in what appeared to be blood...he had hallucinated comparable visions in his lifetime and was not overtly unsettled now that he'd come to terms with the other assaults on his being. It did not damp his curiosity about whence this had come to be - or if this was why they were here. Because the God of the Spark had pulled this land from elsewhere? Was that why it bled? Rent from its previous earthly body, did the magic that was interwoven with the fabric of life and time run red, calling out the Spark God's guilt?
He did not look guilty, but raping another was a skill set he undoubtedly possessed.
08-23-2015, 11:18 PM (This post was last modified: 08-29-2015, 04:15 AM by Maren.)
As if the darkness of a forest had turned upside down: Drapes of white tangled her vision into an impossible sharpness. Her sight could not comprehend as it all fell and shattered. She saw the light; the white. Her whole body became enveloped in its embrace as her ears popped and her lungs begged for air — and somewhere she thought it must’ve taken all the light in the world to create the brightness of the flames of white that bleached her sight.
But of all the eternity it might’ve been able to last, it was barely a splinter of a splinter of a moment — the inside of a shooting star. Burning, disappearing.
And it burned up so quickly she had not noticed enough to think anything of it… wasn’t it that something crucial had changed. There was a new disgusting stench in the air.
The tigermare’s pace stopped halfway her movements. Her eyes that had been looking at the hills; her skin that had been caressed by the high-up winds; it seemed to be gone.
(Poof.)
As if in the Potter-universe; she felt like she — in all her perfectly mortal ignorance — had carelessly walked into another's’ portret. One portraying the tales of bloodbaths and gore; demons and despair, an alien-world — instead of ones of marbles and glory; cotton clouds and cushioning sunshine.
The priestess’ eyes waded over the scene like snails through oceans of salt as a waterfall sang a peaceful melody of clashing water. It drowned, however, in the voices of confusion that was left with the horses of Helovia and the ones that did not seem to belong here. She had walked into something unusual and unexpected, it seemed.
Except her eyeballs no muscle in her body had moved. Now, finally, she turned her head to look what was behind her. Still no hills… Now that it was finally starting to sink in she continued on to watch those curious and fallen; shattered. Maren chewed her tongue in thought and for a moment as long as a star fell down of the sky, she debated whether to walk up to one of the new arrivals as well — But they reeked and she decided to stay out of their way, within the framing of red leaves.
Yes, she prefered her angels with their trumpets over these disconnected, alien horses smelling like dirt; accid; illness and filth that had fallen like demons in their world.
Clouded eyes of judgement watched those that had crossed the Rift. Them: With their shattered souls split by the dusts of time. For as much as she was forever a crownless priestess, she was also a hypocrite.
In your mind, there is so little that has happened, that you wonder where it all went wrong.
You felt the impeccable absence of His thoughts within your mind; where did He go and why? Was He mad with you, for some unknown reason? There were far too many questions for so little time. The gnashing, churning pit that sucked the world out from underneath it was horrifying, at best. You were nowhere near water to begin with, but you felt yourself pulled like you were standing dead center in the middle of a raging whirlpool. Inexplicably, it was a feeling like you've never known. In the pull, in the warping, stretching absence of time and space, you suddenly feel suffocated.
Your nostrils fill with water, and your eyes burn and blur. Your throat is tight and your heart aches within your chest. There is an adept feeling of loss that fills your soul to the brim, overwhelming and making your limbs heavy and numb all at the same time. Your mouth opens to try and suck in air that is not present... but while you feel like you are choking on the water you think surrounds you, nothing enters your lungs. Not water, not air - just an empty nothingness that is perplexing and confusing to the mind.
In mere seconds, you feel like you're surfacing - but when had you ever stepped foot into water to begin with? Where were the dead rocks and dry falls that were once your safe haven?
The blood red waters of the falls churned as she emerged. Mane splattered messily about her face and neck, water pouring out of almost every orifice until she gasped and heaved for air. Disheveled forelock covered both of her eyes and hindered her vision, and she found herself tumbled sloppily onto the shores of the Blood Falls. As her vision returned to her, she struggled to get her balance, the rooted tree at her shoulderblades taking on a substantial amount of weight with the water that had soaked it to its core.
Her eyes darted about, to the absolutely massive amounts of individuals that plagued this poor blood red pool. Shaky legs planted into the rich mud of the shores as she steadied herself, and heaved her body upwards. This was not where she was; this was not her home. Where were her Followers? Where were those familiar faces she craved?
That is when it hit her, like a bag filled with half-ton bricks. Her mind was inexplicably silent. Ears tipped backwards, worried at the impending anger that silence always brought from Him. She stood to the front of the group, staring mindlessly into the vast amount of bodies that just appeared to seep from the woodwork of the forest... but there was no expression in her face, no life in her eyes.
Where had He gone from her mind? What was the silence a metonym for? The strong sense of nothingness scared the white mare, that even the black that marred her pure coat was nothing compared to the fear of His anger.
The God that plagued her thoughts - her God - spoke in visions of anger, revenge, and sacrifice. But now there was an absence of Him - no intricacies that wove a story to life in images that filled her mind, no feelings of lust nor anger nor pain. For once her life, the mind of this beaten Oracle was silent...
And she didn't like it one bit.
With the silence, her mind opened. It soaked in the surroundings, the people, the new faces and this blistering new land. The smells were intoxicating, overwhelming, and oh so sweet. Sickeningly sweet. The musk that prevailed over her Home was gone; instead, the humidity and sweet nectar of this land filled her nostrils and made her eyes water.
But what was more confusing than the scents, was the people whom she did not recognize. It was easy to pick out the ones that were not like her, but she recognized not a single face from those that looked more akin to her. Where were they from? Most of all... why did she concern herself with these trivial matters all of the sudden?
Her attention snapped back to all the 'Helovians.' The sparking god - certainly not her God - who stared with a fierce anger and adeptness at the group of rank individuals clustered into the pool. She sensed power from him, but she was not sure of what kind... maleficent, or caring, her senses were so dulled by the years of torment that she could not tell right from wrong.
It was like her lips had all of the sudden touched the fruit from the Tree of Life... knowledge flooded her mind - images so sharp and painful that it caused her hide to twitch. With this information, came the onset of intense emotion. Anger filled her head; why would He forsake her? Why did He torment her - a faithful servant all these years, through sacrifice and torture, through moral good and bad?
So blinded by her emotions - ones that she truly thought she lacked - was she, that never a word left her lips.
That is the only exchange before Knox sets off running, reluctantly leaving the start of his new family behind but shedding some of the weight responsibility has place on his shoulders with every hoof-beat. Manhattan is leading him somewhere--has something to show him. He is only as patient as one like him can be.
They run in silence; the hunter is anxious. What is it that she cannot tell him now, what is it that is so urgent he must run to see? Perhaps it is irritation more than nervousness. He feels older than he should, as if finding Aylin again has matured him immensely. And Manhattan has said so little to him since his mare has come home to him. Even now, she doesn't speak through their bond.
It is only when they arrive, both cloaked beneath Knox's powerful magic, that she breaks the quiet. And it is then, staring down at the red falls and the crowd around the god, that there is nothing to be said.
Time.
That is all she says--and Knox, who has not seen a god in a very long time, is unsure if he is filled with anger or respect. He knows what he should do: he should leave. He doesn't belong here before a God, in a situation that might incite his temper and put him in an unexpected position. He has Aylin to care for, and soon the two of them will have a child. A girl, he is sure of it; though he has not told his mate for fear it will reveal his premature excitement, he has already begun to consider names.
But none of this is on his mind, now. None of his minds, so many that they are, can think of it. All he can think of is the sight of that bleeding god at the center of a throng, and all he can know is that he should turn back.
At last, it seems, they have returned. Whether or not his favor has, however... that remains to be seen.
It's like he's surrounded by idiots who don't know where the fuck they are.
Well, Madigan sure (thought he) did, his muzzle turned to the sky, the ground still a little unsteady underneath him as they all came rolling forward on all types of different hooves. Others arrived as well, falling into the weird atmosphere with a lightness about themselves that he hadn't seen in many for a long time.
A smile spread from cheek to cheek as he trots forward and greets everyone he sees with a long and proud bow, in this movement maybe in the light another could see the spots all over his pelt start to glimmer and glisten and glow as his body darkened to a dark shade of the night, stars sparkling his body in a matter of minutes. Seconds.
A sarcastic voice fell from his jaw and into the atmosphere, "well that was uncalled for." He smirks at his own body, seeing as the stars glisten and glitter across his pelt like the night sky. He knew that if he got excited or anxious or mad his body would change to match the colors. He knew well. Though it never really flattered anyone at all. It was a regular thing back in his homeland. For equines to have this magical ability to do things like this to their body out of extreme emotion or just will. It was regular.
But the horses around him, covering up the space around the blood-red falls...they seemed just like him, but a little bit more regular in a way.
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![[Image: 531c0b471919e]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/531c0b471919e)
