"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.
"Blood has been shed, but the outcome was clear. The QIAN have emerged victorious on the battlefield. Mirage, you may take the unconscious as your prisoners and begin instating the laws of your herd."
It was a voice that seemed to be held by the mists of the land. The little shadow mare swayed as she stepped forth from the shelter of her mate's wing. Her aching limbs and feelings of general unsteadiness were attempted to be ignored. She felt the powers of the lands, the honour of being a Leader within the sovereign lands of the Moon Goddess fill her. It was refreshing, in a mental sense. We won, she thought to her beloved dragon, eyes shutting for a moment as she held onto the taste of victory. Happiness and pride dared to start a flame within her, dared to renew her vigour for a life she had begun to question.
Then all of the doubts came flooding back.
Golden eyes peeked out from behind her charcoal eyelids, watching as those who no longer wished to stay scampered away, watching as those who were unconscious either remained so, or groggily came to. She looked to her allies, to the blood they shed, her nostrils drank the heady, metallic stench of blood with some distaste. War was not what she wanted. Fighting was not what she, or the Qian, stood for. It was the laws of the land that had forced her into this conformation of violence and forceful displays of power. She did not like it, but she wasn't foolish enough to ignore it, either. Her Protectors would be trained in the art of warfare, with the hopes that they would only ever need to use their skills in defending their homeland. She had no desires to conquer and consume all the lands for herself. We've done it. We've earned our home. She was satisfied, and she hoped her herd would be too.
Mirage walked through the fray of bodies, seriousness, sadness and humbleness permeating about her. She took her time to pause beside each one, proffering her muzzle to each of her brothers, weeping a tear over the fallen bodice of Torasin, observing with critical concern the injuries Lace sustained. This will not do. With a silent alert, Mirage knew that some of the Qian who did not choose to fight (which was their right), lingered on the outskirts. The presence of Zaffre, and Smoke, were of particular interest to the little shadow mare.
Prisoners were not something she held an interest in keeping. She hoped they roused soon enough, and made their way home. Looking upon the fallen soldier she had so ruthlessly attacked when in her dragon form, however, she knew that they would require the herd's aid. With a soft, yet commanding call, she asked for any former Edge members to hear her words alongside her allies and herdmates. The mare, who dripped blood, and sustained heavy bruising that made it difficult to breath, summoned all the strength she had left to push her words into the atmosphere, and decorate the ears of those who would listen.
"Those who call themselves Qian now call the World's Edge their home. Congratulations, my kin, you have fought well, and now you can enjoy the comfort and security of this, our herdland.
"To my allies," Mirage's attention focussed in particular on the cluster of Windtossed Foothills warriors to one side, and the Dragon's Throat Soldiers scattered amidst the sky and ground. "You have my thanks, and my word of promised aid should you ever need it. If there is anything else I can provide, you need only ask. We would not have been successful without the dedication to your words and loyalties that you have shown here." It was a fact, that Qian numbers alone would have been destroyed against the opponent in this battle. More than ever, Mirage felt a cloud of guilt over what damage her allies would have sustained, all in the name of earning her and her kin a home. There were some deep debts to be paid, in Mirage's mind. And pay them she would.
"Smoke, I must ask a request of you." Mirage addressed the grulla who stood amongst the mists, not covering the concern she felt for those fallen. "Would you step up to the rank of Moon Healer, and embrace the powers of Darkness and Wind, and heal those in need, especially the unconscious, no matter their allegiance?" The shadowy minx had faith in the grulla mare, whose original walk in life had been a Healer. She also had faith that the Healer would be capable of forming an appropriate triage, to mend those who were at risk of dying otherwise, and tend to those with minor hurts last. Mirage counted herself as a minor hurt, despite the constant throbbing of her sides. The blood was slowly congealing, scabbing, though breathing did rip open the wounds on her ribcage every now and then. Grimaces and wincing from the pain were common, and scattered throughout her entire speech. But onwards she pushed, she could not stop now.
"To those who would be prisoners, if you wish to stay, you are welcome, but you will not be held here against your will if you are able to leave. The Qian stands for equality and balance; if you do not agree with our ways, then you do not have a right to call the Edge your home." A flood of information rushed around within her tiara, the ways in which she would structure the herd had always been within her, only now were they being realised. But in the settling ashes of a raging bushfire that was a battle, she would address such matters if she felt her fellows were ready for it. For now, they needed some time to heal, both their bodies and their minds. Soon though, they would be face with more serious, sticky discussions. A dark, subtle shadow of a smile tugged at the lips of the mare. If she thought leading the Qian before they had a herdland was responsibility, she knew now that things would not necessarily be made easier.
"Speak to me what you wish you say, my kin, my family. I will do my best to alleviate your concerns." She said after a breath of air allowed a pause between her last lot of words and this one. The mare prepared herself as best she could for the backlash that might eventuate, memories of Paladin's meeting shortly after his personal fight were fresh in her mind. But those she spoke to were her allies, her friends and family.. They had proven themselves by standing by her side in this battle, surely they would not turn on her now? Collecting her thoughts and doing her best to gather her strength, the mare awaited a reply, a golden dragon hovering above her, the Moon steadily rising into the night sky across the horizon.
Finally the battle had come to an end. Kiba forlornly looked over his friend who had fallen to the ground, badly injured but he hoped the new Doctor of the land would be able to fix him. He trilled quietly and sadly as he waited for his bonded to wake, they had won after all and the brown wanted him to see it. A long scaly tail rested near the gilded body of Torasin, devoid of it's usual thrashing and flicking, blood beginning to dry on his claws.
Kiba turned his head to watch Mirage inspecting everyone with concern in her eyes. She had been accepted as a dragon herself and Kiba listened with respect and approval as she spoke to each party in turn. The mists of the Edge finally allowed to drift in peace without the sound of battle cries, this land looked eerie and the brown did not like it much. However, a home was a home.
The trigger of a familiar mind snapped the brown's attention back to his bonded. A pair of green oculars slowly beginning to appear from under buttery lids. Pain laced through them, like the pain Kiba felt from his mind. The dragon crept closer to stand by Torasin's head, feeling his warm breath on his scales and finally happy to see him awake. The winged reptile hoped Smoke would be here soon. A grunt escaped the lips of Torasin, mane was strewn across his neck, as he wished to rise again. However the steed stayed down for now, his healer instincts telling him that to try and stand could worsen his injury. Cold made him shiver and reminded him once more that he was in Throat territory. He could hear Mirage's voice in the distance and faintly smiled as she assumed command.
It was nice to finally have a home. That mysterious mare he had first met in the Heavenly Fields. She truly had come a long way since then. He grit his teeth together and cursed his injury, the magic he had painstakingly obtained would be no use to his comrades if he was injured himself.
Relief. The feeling washed through him like a giant wave and swept away any regrets that had begun to poke their ugly heads up, the way old bones always seemed to emerge with each spring. The soft voice embraced him, caressed the cooling skin much like the mist. Ethereal, disembodied and ghostly, it brought news of their victory - but also seemed to leave something in its wake. Beyond the sensation of thrill and pride that resounded through the bond from Fajira, the stallion felt like something was draped around his body. A cape invisible to the eye, intangible as the night and as uncatchable as the image of stars upon a forest pond, he felt it come to rest on his shoulders. A door unlocked within his mind, creaking hinges whispering of responsibility and ability, not his but to be wielded by him.
He didn't know what it meant, and as the voice faded, so did the sensation of pressure against the skin.
Lace shuddered and winced as the slight shift in position sent another jolt of excruciating pain through his broken leg. He had hoped that the sensation would fade with the adrenaline, but instead he only felt the throbbing even more. The flesh around the fracture was swelling, stretching the skin painfully until the leg seemed to double in size. He couldn't support any weight on it at all and dreaded the time when he would have to move to find water, shelter and a patch of grass that wasn't trampled, burned or bloodied.
Eventually Fajira lowered herself down beside him, choosing to rest upon the ground rather than to weigh him down by perching on his withers like she used to. A quiet warble echoed with concern as she looked up at him, unbelievably small and fragile beside his front hooves - it was hard to picture her as a ferocious beast capable of boiling the flesh from ones bones. Lace reached down and nudged her with the soft nose, breathing warmly over the clean scales. He found comfort in her presence, even more so as she brought his mind closer to her own, shielding him from much of the pain.
Then Mirage began to speak, and the grulla lifted the head, ears pricked forward to hear the words of his new leader. Chosen by himself, chosen by her and the allies and comrades standing around them, the stallion felt a trickle of pride as he glanced around at the others. A few yards away he spotted Torasin coming to and stirring, apparently injured much as himself. Emotions. Relief that the stallion was okay, sympathy for a pain that everyone was sharing, hope for a chance to speak more to the younger steed that now had become his comrade.
The shadow mare finished her address, and Lace found himself raising the head higher, clearing the throat from dust to speak. Pain lined every word, but even so his voice was strong and clear, carrying well through the misty night.
"Thank you for leading us home, Mirage, DragonHeart!" Simple words, but they were spoken honestly and from the heart. He had never felt like this before, so comfortable in a group of people. The land before him was unknown, full of secrets and he had payed a heavy price for the chance to see it all. Even so, it was worth it. The pain, the uncertainty of what was to come with winter and retaliations... He regretted nothing.
10-06-2012, 11:14 AM (This post was last modified: 10-06-2012, 11:14 AM by Onni.)
K R I & O N N I We are not our losses, we are only the extent to which we love.
Victory. Kri's aching body was not wasted in this cool night, as the voice rang out across the land and insinuated itself nicely in her mind. In the edges of the land, a certain tobiano mare heard the verdict too, and gave her signal to those standing by her to follow into the dark forest realm, where surely there was need of those with healing abilities.
As Mirage began to speak, Kri wobbled her way over to the gathering on unsure legs. Her exhaustion still permeated her entire body, and the chill from that bitch's magic seemed to stay clamped within her bones. In protest, the mare folds her wings, though they are quite stubborn and not so quick to yield to her commands. As dark eyes look across the battleworn faces, though, she is very, very acutely aware that her injuries are momentary and minute. The bleeding legs and hard gaits suggested that several had taken what could be fatal injuries, if no healer could assess their damage and fix them quickly.
Kri holds her head high instead, looking toward Mirage with respect. The mare had fought hard for what she wanted, and that was more impressive to Kri than any other aspect. "Well met, Mirage," she says with a smile on tired lips.
As her speech winds down, the sound of hoofbeats captures the Leader's attention, dragging her eyes to the side only to see her pale faced daughter, blue eyes filled with worry that tugged at every muscle of her face. Quickly, the girl strides over to her mother, and a nudge is placed on the weary shoulder before the healer speaks. "Are you alright?" her physician eyes already scanning her mother for any obvious form of injury, but when she finds none the knit in her brow diminishes noticeably. "I am just tired. Our comrades are much worse for wear than me." A smile on the gruff mare's lips to her gentle daughter. While there was some similarity between the two, there was still an ocean of difference.
However, the powerful note that Onni's normally gentle and calm voice takes would seem to give rise to a whole new comparison between mother and daughter. "I will be assessing the injuries of those who have fought. I cannot heal everyone with the magic of the sun, but those in dire need will be aided the most."
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[ Onni will be healing at least 3 members with her magic, and her Medics will be asked to arrive to help treat the rest of the injured! ]
10-06-2012, 11:27 AM (This post was last modified: 10-06-2012, 11:29 AM by Kiara.)
Victory! They had done it!! The voice that seemed to come from no one had spoken... Perhaps it was the voice of one of the Gods? At that moment Kiara did not know, nor did she really care. Emerald green eyes look over at the movement beside her. The fallen paint and his bonded dragon. She dared not nudge him awake, fearing if he woke to suddenly he would try to jump up and harm himself more. She smiled, blood still covering her rump from one unicorn's antlers as Mirage passed by.
There was movement from the little brown. The paint seemed to wake just as Mirage began to speak. Kiara listened and watched with a smile. They had truely done it, and they now had a herdland to call home. Softly she nosed the neck of the fallen stallion speaking calmly. "We fought pretty hard huh?" For a first time in battle, the young roan figured she did very well. Her mind quickly turned to one who had not joined on the battlefield, one she wanted here but was glad he was not. The creamy stallion who was her true comfort. Slowly she stood, knowing the one face she wanted to see above anyone else right now. Breeze. Wordlessly she shifted and moved off. Kiara would return soon, but for now she had to let her best friend know she was alright.
[ooc: one medic will be arriving late.... just saying :P]
❧
The Heart is Wiser than the Mind
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Please Tag Kiara in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kiara at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.
There was no way you could get Onni without Moth - at least not somewhere as important as this. While the stallion had truly felt entirely uninterested in helping out with bloodshed, he felt the need to follow his friend, and make sure that she was safe. You never knew what happened in the aftermath of a war. Though, all in all, he wasn't quite sure why he went to keep her safe, when he had a hard time running without tripping over his hooves. He'd never really fought, always asserted dominance with daring, reckless aerial displays, so he guessed that if anything happened, Onni would have to defend him. Or he could be a distraction, serving as a punching bag.
Whatever happened, he knew that he wouldn't be able to just stay at the Throat and twiddle his ears while she went off to a warzone. Steady beats of his wings kept him on course, and as Onni approached a small chocolate mare on the ground below, Moth veered upwards, surveying the foggy trees and the retreating unicorns. The air smelled of blood and fire - destruction.
Moth would never sanction a war.
Nature suffered too much.
He snorted, angrily, breath pluming from his nostrils like smoke. Whatever. Onni found her calling in healing bodies, though he wondered if maybe the world wouldn't be a better place without those who needed her assistance. Sighing to himself, Moth kept to the skies, slowly circling the battlefield.
Kali did not much care for the ramblings of her Mirage. What she really cared about was all the blood that had dried on her Rishima's belly, and the big ugly wound that looked like something her talons might do to a rabbit on her chest. Little gryphon, she had come flying to her beloved's rescue the moment she felt the pain through their bond, had hissed and screeched at any who dared come near, and had licked away the congealed blood from the dark mare, an instinct to somehow clean and fix the wound kicking in. She could only preen for so long, though. Now she paced, glaring at the risen equines, a tiny predator defending her loved one in the gathering mist, waiting for someone she knew to come to the aid of her Rishima. Every now and then she would dart back to the fallen mare's side, and anxiously check to make sure that the mare was breathing. Then she would pace again.
The stirrings of consciousness crackled in their bond, and as though propelled by lightning Kali was suddenly there, back, crouched by her Rishima's head and clicking anxiously. She could feel the equine growing more awake, and lifted herself on her haunches to peer more closely into her bonded's face, letting sharp claws rest gently on the soft, still breathing nose. Avian head tilted, quickly and anxiously, as she strove to take in her stirring Rishima from every angle. To any who did not understand, the gryphon probably looked ready to begin feasting on her unconscious prey. Especially when she screeched loudly, a painfully shrill sound that radiated through the mist. Very few would recognize its tone as being excruciatingly happy.
I came to and found Kali's head inches from mine, her beedy blue eye peering down with anxious anticipation. She greeted my consciousness with the shrillest, most agonizing sound she could possibly produce, and for a moment all I wanted was to lose consciousness again. Still, the happiness and love that radiated off of her touched me in ways I cannot understand - and I was excruciatingly happy to see her alive and well, too. "Hey, brat," I murmured to her, and she responded with a series of clicks and chirps all underlined with deep, delighted purring. With a groan, I rolled to my stomach, wincing at the pain from the two wounds I had sustained. Moving my forelegs resulted in the gash upon my chest opening, slowly but surely; my belly burned from where Lena's horn had so accurately sliced it. I wanted to lie down, to sleep again, but I had to know what was going on. What had happened.
Luckily for me, Mirage's voice carried over the battlefield. Home, she said, and I blinked. We had won, then? Kali confirmed this from beside me, and I felt... nothing. No pleasure, no delight, no wrath. Only tired, tired and sore and curious as to why all this destruction had been necessary in the first place, if it only meant I was to be tied down to a place that my sister loved, not I. The Qian was stirring, and as I neared Mirage I could see familiar forms, war-beaten and wounded. The stallion Lace sported a quite impressive limp, while Torasin had apparently suffered the same fate of unconsciousness as I had. Kali trilled to the dragons present, still completely oblivious to the fact that she held no place in their hierarchy, but dared not leave my side.
There would be much to do now.
I listened to Mirage's words as I picked my way into the gathering, walking on shaky limbs and fending off exhaustion. Kali had grown closer to me, lending her mind to mine in an effort to protect me from my own agony. We halted in the shadows, some distance from Mirage and the heart of the the gathering, and with a sigh of relief I let my bulk rest against a mercifully unburned tree. Too tired to speak, I listened to her, listened to those pledged to her and listened to the offerings of help. There was so much happiness, so much hope and pride, and I did not want to sully it with my own empty thoughts. To sully Mirage's golden moment. I felt no joy at our victory. Only exhaustion.
Yol landed softly and gracefully, despite his bulk, and folded his dark wings to his flanks, gazing at the many horses around him. Onni had requested that he should appear to help those injured to heal, and so he had come. It was not his code, not his way, to ignore the pleas of the helpless. After all, in his old home, he was too used to being injured in the colts' play. A brittle feeling of shame enveloped the massive pegasus as he was reminded of his father's cold, disapproving eyes and furious voice when Yol had told him of his hopes to become a healer. Bitter regrets. Had he been wrong to seek the path of a medic? They were the ones who saved the lives. But maybe it was the warriors- they were the ones who fought the battles. Maybe maybe maybe. He had been a good warrior, just not with the heart. If the need should ever rise again, however, he would fight. If he must.
"I'm here to help heal with Onni, if anyone needs me." Yol called softly, making his way through the injured crowds. Whoever called for him, he would come to. After all, Onni could not be expected to heal everyone in the crowds.
Tillas was a warrior. A power-hungry, ready-to-fight, warrior. But she was clever. When she had arrived from her journeying, surrounded by skyrats and hornless, she realized with bitter regret something had happened. Mauja would never allow this. And so, there she was, standing quietly in the ranks, uncertain. It was clear Mauja had been usurped from his throne. Should she leave, swiftly and silently? Or could she rise to greater heights? Oh no. She was not about to change her personality. Instead, Tillas was going to embark on something much larger and greater. She was going to be a spy. Quietly going through daily life, learning about things. Becoming trusted, becoming welcomed. Nobody had knew of her before- or her opinions. Now, it was time to bury her furious words and keep her head on. Now it was time to prove herself to Mauja. So when they came back, they would learn of clever skills. Maybe she would be Queen herself. Ha. Nobody else would know of her plans.
Tillas was going to play a dangerous game. But she was going to give it her all.
I watch it all from afar - this myriad of chaos, confusion and loss. In the end they say that we won, but I wonder what our shiny prize is to be when all I see is the dark drying of blood. It's shiny when it's wet, beautiful and rich in color, but now?
Now it is dark and dull and flakes off bodies like old mud.
What does anyone truly ever win in battle but more loss? I have enough loss to share with everyone if they want it so much, we need not squabble over misery when it breeds fast enough.
I hang my head in solemn quiet, as if I have another option. Around me the ground is stained too, but it is with the black paint of an artist rather than the crimson ink of the body. I guess given a few days they'll look the same though. I am no artist of war though - red is not my color, only black, always black.
Releasing myself from the sanctuary of a tree with a shove I start to trudge closer to this place we have claimed. The World's Edge they say it's called. I am anxious to travel close to that edge and look into the end of the world. I am curious though, if this is the end, where is beginning? Is it the darkness of a mother's womb, and this, the cold scythe of a unicorn's horn in the mist the final place for all of us? No, I think, wrapping my tail against my haunches as the cold presses in, this is a presumptuous name. The world's edge is anywhere that we collapse, same as it is from every cunt we fall out of. This is no end, no edge, no final place. This is just a jut of land into the sky, same as all the rest.
Of course, I am selfishly assuming that the world's start is the womb of a horse, and that the world's end is the death of one. How utterly naive of me to think that any world, least of all the one we live in, revolves around us. I would have to be a greater stallion to think other wise though. I am young yet and can afford naivety, although the price is quickly growing too tall. Soon enough I'll be poor like everyone else, and then I'll either have to purchase stupidity or wisdom. The first tastes sweet the other bitter, it all depends on your tastes. In the end, they're both fodder for the mind and drive us to act all the same.
Perhaps I'll just starve.
As I disentangle my legs about the body of a fallen blue bird I glance at the happiness carved into his stiffening lips. His greatest artwork was his demise. His blood his ink, his chest his brush, this battlefield his canvas.
Rest happy my lost artist. I have more things yet to paint and they are not in blood. So fly on, fly fly on little dead bird.
Mirage calls to us, as they always do. She is as great a queen to follow as any, and I have followed a few in my short time. I think I have abandoned all hope for peace, no matter what words their tongues spill, it is all coated in spit and froth. I resign myself to an existence of frail morality and crushed dreams surrounded by disbelief and thoughtless expectations.
Once I followed hope - she spoke of peace but marched in war and fucked until her teats swelled around the lips of fresh babes.
Once I followed a sentinel - he spoke of protection but the darkness scoured away the light and burned the fortress of trees to dust.
Now I follow a dragon. At least I see the dark on her coat and the flames in her gut. At least I see the blood on her hooves and the tarnished crown on her head. She can not beguile me with broken promises because they already lay scattered in her wake. You will not wound me Mirage, I have little left to be scarred when those before you have wielded the knife.
I submit to the cage of a herd, least the wolves eat me outside of it and I forget my place in this spit of rock and think myself greater than I am and those around me greater than we are. I see now that we are the same as the animals that crawl in the woods, snarl in the seas and shit in the skies. We are dust motes caught in a beam of light and a line of shadow.
At least I will drift in an interesting beam, I think. I will not be swept under an idle leaf but will settle in the nose of a giant until he sneezes me out.
So I stand and I watch her and all her horses and I pledge myself just as freely and just as wholly.
I clutch to the shade of a tree and slowly melt into its darkness. I will serve her best in this manner. Silent, unseen, little remembered.
My body scatters into drops of ink. Before the whole of me splashes into the undergrowth I take flight as a dark murder of crows. Black and splotchy my beaks open to scream out silence as I wing my way above them. I circle them briefly like a foreboding watch before vanishing into the mists.
I will stain this land. Maybe then, only then, I can paint it into something better.
Like I said, I can afford some naivety still.
I N K
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
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