the Rift


[OPEN] [PAINTING LESSON] Blank Canvas

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#1

"Lochan, Rakt! Come on," Ashamin said with a smile back to his two companions. His long tail waved behind him, beckoning the sleepy cerndyr forth. It was the middle of the day, long past all of their bedtimes, but Ashamin knew it would be the best time to find others to join in on his plan. He had spent the night gathering a collection of pine branches, berries, leaves, and more. Travels south earlier had afforded him a meager collection of quickly dying flowers; these and all the rest fell onto the ground in the center of the tent when he undid the knot of his sarong.

The tent was something Ashamin had discovered not long before, on one of his wanderings. It was pristinely white, untouched and perhaps beginning to gather dust in some corners, but it was beautiful. His every muscle twitched at the sight of it, his every vein pulsed with desire to fill it with history.

And so Ashamin had called upon Johnny. If no one else, Johnny would have the energy and excitement to help pull this off. He waited now in the center of the tent for the candyman, brimming with a fair amount of excitement himself. This was something to keep his mind off of the troubles he had faced and been a part of--a happy distraction, a chance to see those in his herd that he missed so dearly.

Piled in the corner, Ashamin had laid down his own items. There they were in a pile, ripe for decoration like the walls of the tent and the outlying caves. Lochan started towards the tent's entrance, looking back for confirmation. Ashamin needed only to nod and complete the command. Go, find Johnny and the rest.

Rakt, meanwhile, stood sleepily and swaying by his bonded's steady side. It would be a long day for the cerndyr, but as Ashamin looked down on him he hoped that Rakt would remember it fondly. The haruspex hoped, from the bottom of his heart, that the whole herd would. It was a time of change not just for himself but the whole Basin, and he could smell it on the wind. He hoped this would be a healing day.

""

Ashamin


Welcome all to the Aurora Basin's first ever painting lesson! This is a herd-wide gathering hosted by Johnny and Ashamin, and serves as a meeting for crafting and visionary rank (but all are welcome!) To keep this casual, light, and fun, there will be no post order or real rules. Similarly to the Giving Tree, if you wish to have private IC interactions or wnader elsewhere feel free to make your own thread from this. The only requirements are that @Johnny be allowed to post first, and if you don't have something you can paint with, you either write your character as gathering materials themselves or picking something from the pile that has been gathered. If you have painting materials but don't want to use them yourself, feel free to donate them to the pile (and then post in updates to have them removed from your records)

Painting material ideas:
berries (ground up--have extra? Give them to a healer for supplies!)
flowers (ground up--have extra? Give them to a healer for supplies!)
leaves (ground up--have extra? Give them to a healer for supplies!)
God's blood vials (this uses up the item and must be posted in updates--careful, it may burn!)
Ash from cave fires
God crystals fangs etc (ground up for glitter paint?)
Magic! (If your magic can make a mark without burning the whole place down, go for it!)
Feathers (make good paint brushes!)
Sticks/pine branches (paint brushes!)
Small Item Passes (can be used to make any of the above or something else!)
Other ideas? There are tons of options!

What you can paint on:
The tent cloth! Now that it is open to the whole herd and no longer just for the plague, it needs some good old Aurora Basin history in it.
The crafting cave, the caves by the hot springs, or your own home! Just not the Haruspex's cave, who knows if the Time God would consider that worship or graffiti.
Your own items (Don't have any items? Use item passes, or talk to someone with crafting magic, they might be able to help.)
Others' items (with permission only)
Yourself (Want it to be permanent? Use marking passes!)
A friend (Want it to be permanent? Use marking passes!)
Pretty much anything?

The goal of all this is to HAVE FUN! So do that. :)
Just remember to POST EVERYTHING RELATING TO AN ITEM ALREADY IN OR BEING ADDED TO YOUR RECORDS UPDATES. <3


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


Johnny Posts: 161
Outcast
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 13 hh :: 10 years
Jellybean :: Common Griffin :: Molten Dagger Sarah
#2

Ever since Ashamin had brought this frankly FANTASTIC idea I had been just bouncing with excitement over it. So much excitement, you know, that I completely forgot that I was supposed to collect things to use. Forgot right until dear little Lochan showed up and signaled that it was time. “Oh bugger.” Was my reaction to seeing the cute little deer, which is unfortunate because I rather like him and his bonded. But I followed it up with a bright little smile and nodded to signal that I got the message before calling out a cheerful “I’ll be along soon!”

I just wanted to take the long way around to the tent so I could gather up some supplies. First, though, before I left my cave, I needed to craft a little something. I’ve been carrying around my materials like a fool for a while now and you know what, keeping plant fibres and fleece in your mouth is a rather disgusting practice. It would be a lot easier for me to have something to carry it all around with. With some of the fleece left over from my excursions with Erebos and Ode, I used this delightful magic of mine to create a bag.

It took me quite a while to figure out how to get -into- it - in the end I laid down on the ground and wiggled my way in - so that it wrapped around my middle, adjusting the straps with a little bit of magic so that they were snug. The opening was wide enough so that when I turned I could plop things into the bag. It’ll do. The fact that it was just the boring old colour of natural fleece didn’t bother me too much because I was on my way to a painting extravaganza and I could get someone to decorate it for me!

I stuffed a couple more mouthfuls of fleece into the bag just in case anyone else wanted an item made and then trotted merrily out of my cave. I also went into the forest to pick up some berries - they were a little frostbitten but would do the trick once they were mashed up I was pretty sure. We could mix in a little snow to water down the mixture and make it last as well.

Once my new bag was full of materials I made my way over to the tent that I never really paid much attention to before - and was delighted when Ashamin had alerted me of its presence. These creatures in the Basin were rather odd ones, weren’t they? I enter with only a little bit of trouble and am delighted to find the sweet Harupex already there. “Ashamin my dear! Good to see you. Ready to get started?!”
come with me, honey
I'm your sweet sugar candyman
image credits


everyone has permission to paint on Johnny. GO NUTS

ALSO COME ONE, COME ALL!
[Image: Johnny%20by%20Aud_zpsi3ssx2s1.gif]
magic and physical force permitted at all times
vigorous licking strongly encouraged
please tag in all posts

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#3

Deimos the Reaper
You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this 
long and lonely road to hell
the throne must be such a sad and lonely place

The tent was moving.
 
He watched from the edge of the lake, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, senses honed and sharpened. Like a predator, like a carnivore, like a brutal, bloody blackguard, he waited, witnessed, a bold king on the fringe of his throne. The questions poured through his mind, a scythe, a cutlass, a blade, stalking and prying, scheming and unwinding – pondering over the mess of cloth billowing in the wind. Had a Plague meeting started, without his knowledge, without his wisdom, conspired amidst his ignorance? Did others converge secretly, playing in covert shells and veils, not wanting the rest of the land to know of their plans? Was something being concocted in the midst? Was his empire in danger, submerged in treachery? The queries kept coming, one after another, until he was naught more than a beast, muscles coiled and undulated, poised and tethered and taut, strung together by notches and harpoons and daggers – and he thought for a moment about murder, about mayhem, about soulless, heartless dragoons and pursuits, a Machiavellian rapier cutting through flesh and bone…
 
Then Lochan appeared at his feet, watching the way his breaths callously brewed through the air, in great, smoldering, seething, simmering puffs, twisting his fawn-head towards the canvas, nodding and extending a bestowal before wandering away, over snow and ice to others lurking across the glass.
 
An invitation.
 
The Reaper’s stare was drawn back to the ivory and rose hued stag pilfering along the way, cheerful and exuberant, ebullient and strange, shouting out things to the world, puttering into the confines of the tent where he could hear no more. He tilted his head, arched a brow, and moved forward, drawn by suspicion and curiosity, the sway and swagger of vehement beasts, completely rattled and confused as to what was going on in the hidden lair. The demon lowered his skull beneath the flap, brandishing it aside to peer within – and instead of knives or stilettos, axes or shields, he saw berries, leaves, and flowers. No rebellion, no sedition – just…idle things, nestled in the crook of the Haruspex and the Weaver’s entities.
 
The Lord was only struck with utter confusion, gawking half-in, half-out of the trappings, features hardened into their nonchalant exterior – but his eyes must have displayed some befuddlement, some puzzlement, some mystifying element – and if they hadn’t, his voice painted it for them, deep, resonating, and perplexed. “What are you doing?”


Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary

Albrecht Posts: 249
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1hh :: 19 (Orangemoon) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Strom :: Suma Ball Python :: None Townsen
#4
Albrecht
The old stallion groans as a swathe of white takes up center stage in his vision and he temporarily mistakes it for a massive snow bank. The jagged peaks surrounding this relatively flat valley seem to keep the worst of the weather at bay, but he supposes they can only do so much as the heavy clouds of Frostfall inch closer and closer. Black lips curl in disgust as anticipation triggers a mental crunch of ice beneath his hooves and the seeping, clinging cold long before either are physically felt.

Complaints spark unchecked from his tongue, "Does no one here believe in fucking road maintenance? Does it look like I need to be traipsing through a fucking-" but as he approaches the white mass takes on sharper details. He can see smooth sheets of canvas billowing where breezes penetrate and wrapping tight to a frame of what he can only guess are stripped branches in others. He quiets abruptly, a frustrated snort dismissing memories of days when a few meters of distance didn’t blur his vision to shit. He’s never seen a tent before, but he assumes from the prominent location that it’s meant to be a gathering of some sort.

Poking his head through the opening created by Tall-Dark-and-Uncivilized’s horn he peruses the interior of the tent. At its center lies a mound of various bits and pieces, apparently free to anyone who wants them. Well, he’s always up for freebies. The bony senior lumbers forward, fully intending to sift through his options when a cloying, choking scent of peppermint draws his attention elsewhere.

Peppermint-Patty-Himself stands nearby another young stallion, some sort of fluffy pouch strapped around his effeminate middle and brimming with similar items to what is already assembled. The black realizes with unshrouded disappointment that they are meant to leave items, not claim them. Always the Party-Pooper, he lifts his tail and deposits a few brown bundles to the mound. Don’t say I never gave ya nothin’. His copper beard waggles with what could almost be cheer as he turns to depart the little festival. 'Tis the season after all.


//

OOC: So uhm. That happened. Brown paint anyone? xD
Edited so that it doesn't sound like he's completely left already. He's still in the tent, just to be clear. Sorry!
The Curmudgeon
Image Credit
           
[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
Violence & Magic okay.
Wish - Away - OOC


Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#5
The days moved on and with them, I grew larger. I became exhausted faster and faster but my spirit was still high despite everything that had been going on. Today was no different. My spirits were high and I figured since I had managed to keep myself home at the Basin that I needed to travel around and just enjoy my time here, considering before that I rarely ever spent time here. I was always out and about, learning different ways to get places, meeting new faces, enjoying a simple life. Things were going to be different now. The little bundle of joy – or so I hoped it would be – would do nothing more than to keep me busy. I had a great feeling about this pregnancy and it seemed to cure a lot of my worries from my previous one. At least I hoped that perhaps it would still be living when it was born. At least right now I could feel it moving now and then which was everything to relieve me. But when the day comes to actually give birth, I’d more than likely be a mess. I knew that already. That’s why I planned on staying in the Basin until then. I didn’t need to have it somewhere that I couldn’t help it if it needed it.

Today brought a slight change in the air as it lapped against my neck, picking up my mane on the ashen tips. I took a few moments to drink in the moment before moving on and finding another gathering of sorts, involving a tent that I don’t think I had seen before. It was a rather large tent and it seemed the bodies that I could smell on the wind especially Johnny had found their way inside. I perked my ears to the tent and glanced around briefly before walking toward it, lowering my head and using my golden horn to part the flap to enter the tent. The first creature I saw looked to be quite an aged black stallion. I nodded to him briefly before my blue eyes scanned the rest of the gathering as I passed him, leaving enough room to not run into him with my growing barrel. I saw Deimos and dipped my head to him. “Hello, my Lord.” I offered him a smile before turning my head to spot Johnny and Ashamin. My ears flickered nervously in the hopes that I wasn’t going to be bothering him by showing up in the same places all over the Basin, even though it was difficult not to.

I tried to catch his gaze briefly and smile to him, reaching out with my muzzle to touch the side of his cheek gently before moving on to Johnny. I smiled to him as well and reached to greet him the same as I had for Ashamin. Then I noticed the pile that had gathered. A variety of things to use to paint with as well as a gift that seemed a bit… unorthodox. I wasn’t sure who had given that gift, but I pushed the idea aside and stepped back to my position previously, beside Ashamin. I didn’t really have anything I could contribute to the pile other than a feather for painting. I reached around to my mane, reaching for the teal feather that Ilios had given me, pulling it out of my mane gently and carrying it in between my lips, waiting patiently to find out just what we were doing in the tent on this day.

"Talk."
I had a dream you were two towns from me
GOT TO SLEEP,
     spent the whole night
running
image credits


feel free to paint on Rex and her preggo belly! c:
[Image: lovelyskylark.gif?8]
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#6

With Johnny's sweet sugary scent came the shadows and voices of others. Deimos the Reaper was next, somehow as always seemed to exude death, and Rexanna and a dark stranger followed. The haruspex felt a warm glow in his heart at the sight of Rexanna, the mother of his child and excitement stirred in his chest. He returned her gesture without hesitation, pressing his cheek to hers. However a sharp smell ruined the moment and Ashamin wrinkled his nose as the stallion left his refuse in the tent, cast the stranger what would have been a glare if not for his superior age, and then turned back to answer Deimos' question.

"My lord, so good of you to join us. I discovered this tent gathering dust, the same one the God of the Spark mentioned to us I believe. Johnny and I thought it might be a good opportunity to bring the herd together and host a lesson in painting here, allow our herd members to express theirselves and request things from Johnny and myself." Ashamin turned to the weaver then with a smile and a wide swish of his tail.

Ashamin had almost forgotten about the haladie gifted to him by Ki'irha, but seeing Johnny reminded him of the item. Slowly he reached his hoof forward to pull it from the pile and show it to the weaver and company. "If you don't mind, Johnny, I'd like to make the first request. Would you mind crafting a sheath for this?"

Rakt picked across the floor of the tent, sniffing and searching for his brother as his bonded interacted with other members of the herd. Finding Lochan still absent he settled by Rexanna, looking up at her with the same aloofness as before. Ashamin looked down at the cerndyr for a moment before looking back towards the others. "It's nice to meet you, sir. I'm Ashamin, the haruspex. You're welcome to stay with us if you'd like, and if you wouldn't mind tucking your soil away." Ashamin offered as politely as he could. Respect your elders rang in his mind and he forced himself to stay calm. He wouldn't let someone use this event as a toilet, and he wouldn't let that ruin the day if it happened anyway.

""
Ashamin


Sorry this post is all over the place... please keep 'em coming people, the whole herd is welcome! Again, no post order.


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


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#7
The two played an idle game beside the lake. While Imogen batted at small rivulets in the water, shaking and shuddering when the cool liquid brushed against her paw, Lena’s thoughts and eyes wandered over the scenery, over the hills, over the rushing tides of altering, changing seasons. Had she not been studying the ways of her world so intently, she may have missed the figures entering the tent.
 
Curiosity flickered and flared along her mind. She’d always been aware of the tent’s presence, but had never sought to enter it or wander along its midst; it had become just another piece of the Basin backdrop, like the sentinels rising towards the sun, or the peaks maintaining their vast, supreme glory. But to see others roaming into it was another matter – and she could only speculate so far as to what they were doing. Was there a meeting she was unaware of? She’d seen their Lord, and Rexanna, and someone unfamiliar…and the notion to pry, to intrude, was nearly whisked away. It wasn’t her business to go snooping. She could ponder all the while, adrift in her thoughts, catching the sun’s beams off of the calm lake.
 
But…
 
Her nose wrinkled. Her brow furrowed. The ivory fox gazed at her with a stare akin to mischief. How many times had she ever caved into her mercurial wiles, her capricious whims? How many hours had she spent in speculation, but never discovering truths and lies? For a few moments, she did nothing but debate herself, biting her bottom lip, casting her stare towards the heavens, and then allowing it to come back to the tent, to the billowing fabric, to the strange, enticing, beguiling notions left to nothing…
 
They moved quickly thereafter; Imogen chirped a laugh, and the Mender hid her grin. For once, she could play more than just the calm, compassionate beast – dreaming of fey essences, of fairy realms, dipping her head below the material (how strange not to hear any voices outside the wares!), to discover a warm, effervescent sight.
 
She managed to catch the last bits of Ashamin’s, who she hadn’t known was even within the confines, speech – riveting and rapturing her gaze to the bits and pieces strewn on the floor. Her smile enraptured, widened and beneficent, dabbled amidst her awe-d vocals. “Painting! How delightful!” Imogen chirruped again in response, perhaps delighted her bonded had an opportunity to express a sentiment other than melancholy, and they continued to move further within the tent, extending greetings to everyone with a nod for each, even the strange fellow she didn’t recognize or know. To the Haruspex, and lovely Johnny, whose appearance deemed everything must be in good cheer, she extended her composure and compliments. “What a splendid idea. What would you like us to paint?”


her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
LENA
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Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#8

Active and energetic, coiled and contorted, embroiled in the arts of chaos and the scars of devilry, he wasted no time in chasing down and watching several high-ranking members of the herd. He witnessed his father wander into the confines of the mysterious tent, the gilded Thief whom he’d recently sparred (looking significantly wider – which was very odd – had she eaten something fattening?), one of the Time Menders, and some older beast he’d yet to meet. The particulars, the details, the pondering left him quite curious; even the tent itself (how on earth had Rikyn, Aithniel, and he never managed to discover and plays in its strange periphery?) nestled a dozen or more questions. What was going on? What were they participating in? Was he allowed to embark into the folds and fabric? And if not – would be he able to eavesdrop?
 
He and Orsino stared, yards away. The boy’s brow arched, then the fox’s, until they resembled a reflection of mischief and audacity, brazen interludes blazing within both. Would it harm anyone to take a peek? To gaze inside and see what was happening? What could go wrong?
 
One more look, one more exchange, between the duo, and they both nodded, consenting to shenanigans. Their march was not slow, not chaotic, but contemplative and strong, long limbs on the colt, swinging tails on the kitsune, until they waltzed beneath the veils and curtains and listened in on the truth of the matter.
 
Painting! Nothing wild, nothing savage, nothing sinister, but mere strokes on canvas, on tapestries, on oiled walls and blank surfaces. He nodded first to all those contained within, but his interest, his inquiries, and his questions were centered on the objects lingering upon the ground. The lad’s gaze swung to the collected items: berries, leaves, flowers, and ash, perfected courtesies and tokens for them to deliver artful forms and drawn musings. In regular boyhood exuberance, he leaned closer to snag a leaf between his teeth, dipping it in a bundle of splattered berries (avoiding the obvious brown choice), and proclaiming their fortune. “Cool! Great idea!” He immediately dashed outside, Orsino following along, chasing after dreams and ambitions all the more – until he managed to drift along the outer corridor of the tent, towards the middle of the back, pinpointing towards the lake, pines and fir. With his maw, and a fine, swift stroke, he painted the first mark upon the cloth: beginning an outline of a trio (one full of feathers, two lined with horns) draped in red.
 
They were what he wanted to remember, to honor, first.
 
Then an explosion of ideas came to him, one by one. Perhaps he’d make emblems, faces, features of the creatures who used to be, who’d been apart of the blood, of the stone, of the ice and chill – but had since gone, disappeared, deceased, or disregarded.
 
It was so simple, so easy.
 
He became lost in his work, so much so that he didn’t notice Orsino making his own lines at the bottom of the tent, trying his best to model a little filly furnished in gold.

 

Image Credits

Tiamat the Ocean's Light Posts: 360
Aurora Basin Lady atk: 8 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: 6 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Nimue :: Common Orca Leviathan :: Boil Reli
#9
It is not intentionally that the ocean mare stumbles upon the little gathering. In fact, she hadn’t even realized that there was a “secret tent” within the Basin (and even less so of the original purposes for the aforementioned tent). She wanders along the valley’s borders, tucked up higher than usual, her cloven hooves picking carefully through the trees and occasionally steep rises of the mountains. Despite having returned almost a year ago now, Tiamat doesn’t feel as though she’s explored her home as properly as she should have. Not that her hunger of curiosity and knowledge will ever be fully satisfied, but an itch for exploration had grasped her earlier in the day, and so here she is, climbing along the wooded borders.

Her dainty ears prick forward when she hears voices not far ahead, beckoning her closer to the Basin’s snowy floor. Cautiously, the ocean mare finds her way down—only sliding once or twice—before settling on sturdy ground with a brilliant smile brightening her expression. Shaking herself contentedly, Tiamat presses forward, walking with an eager stride and wide, curious eyes. When the tent comes into view, she tilts her head questioningly, the mystery of the pale canvas making her excitement swell all the more exuberantly in her chest.

Trotting to its entrance, she finds that it is far from empty—other herd members are inside; most of them she recognizes, but there is one or two that she doesn’t (though she is sure that will be remedied by the end of the day!). Noticing the pile of (mostly) supplies in the center—a mixture of herbs, berries, sticks, feathers, among other things—and given the plainness of the canvas, it’s wonderfully obvious what they have in mind. “Painting?” Tiamat’s features brighten in her enthusiasm, “I’d love to help, what a beautiful idea!”

Flicking her long tail happily out behind her, the blue mare steps into the tent, her white eyes glancing around those gathered. “Hello everyone,” she gives them all a grin, the energy of her utter delight seeming to electrify the air around her. With her eyes resting on the dark, brooding, and absolutely admired Reaper, she offers him a dainty bow of her head, ever mindful of her superiors, “My Lord.” She lingers to give him a cheerful smile before moving further into the tent, eventually coming to stand at the side of the brown mare, her mentor, and her friend.

“Lena, my friend,” Tiamat touches the Time Mender’s shoulder in an amiable greeting, casting her an illuminated grin. Questions of—how are you? What can I do for you? How have you been?—rise to her lips, but with the bubbling of excitement beneath her skin, the ocean mare is easily distracted when she spies (or rather smells) the sweet candy man. “Sir Johnny!” She laughs brightly before turning quickly to gather some berries, mashing them with her hoof and then arching her neck to snatch a seashell from her mane. With all things collected, she turns to Johnny. “Hold still, please,” Tiamat instructs the little stallion, barely containing her large smile.

Dipping one side of the shell in the crushed berries, she reaches forward and presses it firmly against his shoulder. When she pulls back, a dark red-purple print stains his white skin. Dipping the shell again, she repeats it next to her original print, so that the seashells overlap to create something reminiscent of a heart. Pleased with her work, Tiamat puts down the shell and smiles wider than ever. “There! Now isn’t that fitting for a benevolent knight like yourself?” The mare’s eyes dance as she giggles playfully, casting a wink to Ashamin and Rexanna in her delight.


notes; FEEL FREE TO PAINT ALL OVER TIA :DD
Also, this is an idea of what her shell heart looks like. Yay imagination! XD
“Speech.”

     LIKE THE OCEAN KISSED THE SKY,
at the most beautiful place under the sun.
@Lena @Johnny | image credits
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Albrecht Posts: 249
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1hh :: 19 (Orangemoon) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Strom :: Suma Ball Python :: None Townsen
#10
Albrecht
Others file in, chirping greetings and introductions as they come. The black stands quiet, committing each name and rank to memory. He’s unsure what several of them mean (Haruspex? Time Mender??), but Lord he has no doubt of. Nor does he doubt the patriarchs impending disapproval of his actions. Tall-Dark-and-Uncivilized just doesn’t seem like the type to pull his punches, age and fragility be damned.

This sudden surge of motivation, heavily steeped in self-preservation, prods the old stallion to greater effort. He reaches quickly into the pile of supplies and emerges with a few tines of berries pinched between his yellowing teeth. One ear creeps forward in tentative obeisance as he holds them prominently between himself and the muscular king. Just look at me participating and shit, his puckered expression and lowered head suggest. The guy looks like he spends every waking minute dragging logs and sprinting courses for fucks sake. There's no telling what he could do to a spindly old bastard like Albrecht.

Visions of copper hair hanging ominously from a bloodied horn usher the black outside. He sidles along the perimeter of the tent until both the entrance and the young boy working feverishly at the back are out of sight, then stops to stare unhappily at the blank canvas spread in front of him. He has nothing that he wishes to remember and certainly nothing that he wants to lay down in print for others to see, but he's resigned to paint something, anything, so he dabs a spot of blue gel onto the white of the tent with his upper lip.

A red blotch follows, then a purple and a yellow. He mixes some yellow and blue gel to make a crude green and smears an undulating line across the tent beneath his other marks. The little blobs of color look like horses to him, bobbing on a sea of green goo. He uses the rim of one nostril to smear tiny lines pointing downward from each blob; little legs to carry his horses across their green hills. He adds little dots of color as neck-less heads and smears a stubby set of horns from their tops.

The little blobs are unicorns now, galloping all in a line over bright green grass. Names slink unbidden from the stallion’s mind, christening each member of the painting with a shattered memory. A chestnut filly, her tiny ears always forward and soft eyes laughing. Ellieanna. The brothers blue- and purple- roan. Fendrel and Favian. A palomino colt, bright as the sun and twice as warm. Nethanial.

Pain lances through the stallion’s chest, sharp as any lordly horn. He staggers backward, blinking hard, but the little faces won’t dissipate and the white of the canvas crowds them in from all directions no matter how hard they run. "Fucking stupid ass idea, painting a fucking tent.” He whirls away, knocking the berry branches aside and sweeping the tuft of his tail over the canvas as he turns, but the colors have set, sunk into the white fabric, and refuse to be smudged.

He scrubs his muzzle against his knees, seemingly desperate to remove the paint, stifling a heavy sniff as he does.


//

OOC: Awww... :(
The Curmudgeon
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[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
Violence & Magic okay.
Wish - Away - OOC


Johnny Posts: 161
Outcast
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 13 hh :: 10 years
Jellybean :: Common Griffin :: Molten Dagger Sarah
#11
I’m fresh out of synonyms for wonderful but I would use them all to describe the company that joined us in the tent. Well, all except for one - this elderly chap that literally dumped his contribution. Well. Honestly I don’t even know what to say in response to that completely unexpected turn of events and I don’t think anyone else does either. Ashamin tried though, asking him to tuck it away. I’d honestly craft up a piece of cloth to cover it up if that wasn’t such a waste of the materials in my bag and suddenly I’m quite glad that I didn’t place them down anywhere. I take great pride in my work and don’t want it soiled!

Luckily there were other things to focus on.

Deimos joins us and is his usual sunshine self, Rexanna who I happily return the bump of greeting - grinning brightly at her and giving meaningful looks over to Ashamin. If I had eyebrows they’d be wiggling away. The kid from these two was going to be just adorable and I couldn’t wait!

But I’m distracted from asking any questions by a request from the happy father. “I would love to, Ashamin! Any colour requests? We’ve got all the materials to make something truly wonderful today!” He could paint it afterwards, sure, but I wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for him.

A happy whicker is my greeting of the bay beauty Lena. “Hello Lena! Anything you want! This tent could use some more decorating, for sure, and Deimos could use a little sparkle.” A side-look given to their Lord and I make sure to wink so that they could both see and understand that I was (mostly) joking. Well, okay, I’m only joking because I’m worried that I might get shish-kebabed if I touch a hair on our Lord. I’d love to, of course, but I think he needs to warm up to me a little bit.  

Erebos whips in and out in a flurry of excitement and I’m happy to see the blue colt again! More delightful company follow him - my sweet friend Tiamat among them. I chuckle heartily at her use of ‘sir’ and am willing to play along with our joke from last time - bending a knee so that I am bowing her to. “Princess Tia! I am yours to command.” And, of course, I’m delighted over this idea so I stay absolutely still (which is no small feat for me) while she presses her shell into me a couple times and forms the most beautiful heart! “Oh Tia I love it!” Truly!

“Your turn!” I know everyone’s entranced by painting on the tent but I’m much more interested in painting things on my friends. I rummage in the pile of supplies until I find a bundle of berries that I think will make a good shade of purple and then a branch that fits comfortably in my mouth - the shoots of an evergreen tree work perfectly!

I waddle back over to Tiamat and am trying so hard to figure out what I should do. Or maybe it’s not so hard after all! With more care that I’ve really given anything in awhile (because I don’t want to mix this up) I use the soft new shoots of a balsam fir to brush a purple heart onto Tiamat’s hip. The base of it, the point, curled into a small spiral that he was incredibly proud of. “Now we match!”

come with me, honey
I'm your sweet sugar candyman
image credits


@Ashamin, @Deimos, @Lena, @Tiamat mentioned most!
HE GAVE TIA A CUTIE MARK
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magic and physical force permitted at all times
vigorous licking strongly encouraged
please tag in all posts

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#12

"Lena!"

The call was overjoyed, the energy in his heart bursting at the site of the time mender. How long had it been since he had seen her last? The meeting, or even earlier? He moved towards her with abandon, extending his traditional greeting and nickering softly. His mane was tangled over his eyes as he tossed his face towards hers, so happy he was to see her. "Lena, it's so good to see you again. Paint whatever you'd like, this gathering is for the whole herd to enjoy." He pulled away from her and turned to see others arriving and participating, excitement growing in him with every second.

Ashamin watched over the scene with growing pride as members of the basin gathered together and painted the canvas of the tent. Erebos burst in with more energy than Ashamin had ever seen, given that their last meeting had been riddled with injury and hurt. He cast a nervous glance between the boy and the reaper, hoping no word of that fight would be shared, but released it with a sigh of relief as the boy and fox set about to painting the tent.

The dark stallion with the dirty habit left after grabbing from the pile, and the haruspex found his brow knitted in confusion. Was he participating in any way other than leaving his refuse on the ground before them all? He snorted, at first dissatisfied, but when he saw the nose of the stallion poking through the other side of the tent, perhaps painting on the outside, a small smile crept onto Ashamin's features. Perhaps the stranger was simply too grumpy to admit he might like to paint with the herd. Very well, Ashamin would let him be.

When Tiamat burst in with her charm and cheerfulness, Ashamin felt the whole tent brighten. He watched in awe as she mixed paint from gathered materials, and playfully dipped his tail in some of the mixture so he could run it along her back as a surprise. "Tiamat!" he called out as he trotted around the weaver and back to the haladie he'd lain by the pile, "welcome to the painting lesson!"

Johnny's question, innocent, came to Ashamin and he realized with surprise that he hadn't thought ahead as to what the answer would be. He looked for Lochan and Rakt, knowing what the two of them would each say given their paintings both in his mind and now (in their favorite colors) of each other on the walls of the tent, but returned in the end to the simplicity of his sarong.

"Just white will do," Ashamin said with a smile to the weaver. "I'm sure someone will get paint on it before this meeting comes to an end, it can find its color on its own. My only request is it be made of something tough and comfortable, if I'm going to be wearing it by my chest." Ashamin watched as the weaver then moved back to Tiamat, painting her with apparent glee. With his companions and his herd all at rest or at play, there was truly nothing but pride and joy in his heart.


""
Ashamin


@Johnny @Tiamat @Lena directly addressed


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


Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#13
Rexanna watched gently as everything began to unfold before her. She carried the feather gently between her teeth, but stayed silent until she noticed Ashamin’s newest companion as he found his way by her side. A smile turned up the corner of her lips gently as her gaze danced down onto the blood red cerndyr. Reaching down, she greeted the deer gently before moving away from the father of her child and the rest of the group. She dipped the tip of the feather into a bit of a purple color, more than likely from some kind of purply berries before escaping to the outside of the tent. She noticed Erebos first as well as his companion. Offering a nod to him, she moved along to the other side of the tent.

Determination crossed the mare’s brow as she began to use the teal feather to draw what she thought looked like the opening of the entrance to Helovia, dark purples showing that just over the ridge, the Sentinels watched with an almost judgemental stare. She seemed content with how this was going so far, but soon began to realize that she needed another color. So she stepped back from the side of the tent where she had begun her environment to gaze at it and wonder what kind of colors she could find. With a thought in her mind, she stepped back into the tent and noticed as others had painted on one another. She laughed to them gently, moving toward the paint and grabbing a bit of a blue color, moving over to Ashamin once again, blue gaze hoping to catch his before reaching to him along a part of his pelt that was white near his hind, gracing it with four small hoofprints, a symbol that Rexanna thought was a great one to symbolize his fatherhood.

She offered him a smile, waiting until he saw what it looked like before she would run outside again to continue her painting. Her eyes danced between the conversations of Tiamat and Johnny and the joy that they seemed to have and waited, watching the candy man and the ocean mare with a deep happiness that seemed to be rooted somewhere between either her newly found family or the one she had all along, the Basin.

"Talk."
I had a dream you were two towns from me
GOT TO SLEEP,
     spent the whole night
running
image credits


Rex mentioned a few! However, decided to paint a few small hoofprints onto Ashamin that she thought would be like a symbol of his fatherhood :3 Also, sorry its rather short.
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Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

Johnny Posts: 161
Outcast
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 13 hh :: 10 years
Jellybean :: Common Griffin :: Molten Dagger Sarah
#14
Well Ashamin was an easy customer to please! Okay mostly. It would have been easier for him to want a bag like the one that I was sporting (and no one had commented on, seriously) but I guess I understand that those warrior types want something flashy and sturdy for their weapons. So I’m going to have to go do a little gathering. “Perfect! I’ve only got soft stuff with me so I’ll just go for a quick jog and pick up something sturdy.” I was about to leave the tent when Rexanna’s little painting project caught my eye. Well if those two weren’t just ridiculously adorable together you can just dissolve me in a hot cup of tea right now. “Oh Rexanna, you’ve got the talent to match your beauty!”

Seriously this kid is just going to be top notch with parents like these two!

Without any subtlety whatsoever, I look over to Tiamat and make a silly face at her, green eyes darting to the ‘couple’ as they painted on one another. “Wanna come with me on a quick walk, Tia?” Of course, I’m joking really - I’m being blatantly obvious about my meaning because I’m teasing my dear friends. Besides, they’re not actually “alone” in the tent and there are other members of our herd right outside of it.

This was before I knew it was enchanted to block out sound.

It was a quick jaunt into the forest to get some hardier fibres to mix in with the fleece - thankfully, “hardy” is exactly the word you would use to describe pretty much everything in the Basin.

Back in the tent, I make sure I’ve got a good idea of the size that Ashamin was looking for and call on that delightful magic of mine to combine the bits of fluffy fleece and tough plant fibres to form a slightly-off-white scabbard with a fleece-lined strap. “How about it?” I was -pretty- sure that I could re-do it if Ashamin wasn’t totally satisfied.
come with me, honey
I'm your sweet sugar candyman
image credits


@Ashamin
@Rexanna
@Tiamat
<33

scabbard is made!
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magic and physical force permitted at all times
vigorous licking strongly encouraged
please tag in all posts

Hotaru the Valkyrie Posts: 295
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3hh :: 6 Years 3 Months HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
Alice :: Royal Hellhound :: Acid Brit
#15

Tis better to be late than not arrive at all, Hotaru thought dryly to herself as she advanced upon the individuals grouped together around the tent. Alice chuffed at her heels, clearly disinterested in the proceedings but disallowed from abandoning her mistress. Not that she fully intended to, once her sharp, predatory eyes caught sight of Ashamin directing the activities. The bitter, sorrowful twang of emotion in Hotaru's breast was all the justification Alice needed for the low growl that echoed in her throat. He had left her there, kneeling in the snow and Ashamin's blood, lost and sorrowful. Just like Thranduil had. And the bitter irony of that fact had only deepened the wound, the fact that she had done exactly as Ashamin had asked - no matter how badly it had hurt her, like breaking her own bones to harm the one man she'd let herself trust after all this time - and he had still left her. And when he'd left, she couldn't tell which mirage hurt worse - the golden back, or the painted one. 

Hate, Alice snarled, a word Hotaru wished she'd never learned but an inevitable addition to her vocabulary, when she was bonded to someone like Hotaru. No. We don't hate him. And to prove it she danced closer, the weight of her heart lifting to see so many milling about, conversation disjointed with the magical properties of the tent. Her family, her herd. Even Deimos remained, though with his gawking face so out of context, Hotaru could not help but let a small laugh escape off her tongue. Like melting sugar, a sweetness she had not partaken in for so long. This was what had enamored her when she'd risen to the title of Lady. This camaraderie, this deep and unshakable bond that no herd or enemy had ever broken, and if she had any say in it, never would. 

The temptation of Deimos' sourness was too strong, and she announced herself with a soft, feminine huff of her nares before alighting them upon his flank. Bicolored orbs danced with amusement, his territorial, archaic ways amusing to her. The others were like pups tumbling about, ruining his sacred den, and they were the Alphas watching on in dismay. Perhaps Alice is rubbing off too much on her, with her proclamations of 'pack' and 'Alpha', but Hotaru can't say she isn't displeased. After all, the Basin had always been more like wolves than equines, with their hatred and their isolation and their wicked, snarling teeth. She'd rather live among the wolves, with their bare intentions and sordid machinations, than out in the rest of the world where falsity was commonplace and the felling of a heart the greatest prize to achieve. At least she understood the violent tendencies of this world, this realm that she ruled over. And she loved it. 

But there were others to attend to, and her lips slid off Deimos' skin as her head turned towards the chipper, happy voice she recognized from greeting Eldala at the borders. "Johnny," she greeted warmly, smile pulling at her beautiful face. A gracious, benevolent leader, allowing all these familiar souls to rub up against her own, shedding their light upon her and allowing her to push the darkness back away from their gazes. She would defend them with that darkness, but she could allow it to recede in their presence. It reminded her of Illynx, and she wondered idly if her once-mentor would ever look upon Hotaru and see herself. If that was a good or bad thing. 

Until she saw Rexanna, swollen with child, painting little hoofprints upon Ashamin's skin. Her own began to crawl, a deep simmering anger that took her by surprise. Hotaru was known for her selfishness and vanity, but this was encroaching upon territory she had never anticipated claiming. Such loving familiarity burned and scalded her, reminding her that while Ashamin was her only friend and confidant, it was not the same for him in reverse. Still, it soured in her gut, and she strode purposefully between the pair of them as Rexanna began to retreat, Alice grumbling low and unhappy at her side as they watched her retreat. Her eyes raked over the swollen belly, ties coming together in her mind, understanding lighting up behind her eyes. 

It hurt. And she didn't know why. 

But as she turned to Ashamin the only thing she could see was the wound she inflicted, still burned and branded upon his skin. Her face fell, and she mutely dipped her muzzle into the pale blue before her, pointedly ignoring the paintbrushes for this particularly intimate moment, before turning and casting her eyes quietly at Ashamin. Asking permission, even while staring at him reminds her of his departure, of the way she burns just to stand beside him. I never deserved to be the swan, she thinks, so quiet even in her own head that it's like a whisper, and wonders if Rexanna is that for him now. It was more fitting, with her easy smiles and her kindness. As Hotaru leans forward - careful of her horn, for she's hurt him enough - and begins to paint it across his skin, she wonders if this fire inside her heart will eventually cleanse her. It's been burning so long, and she wonders if she is so full of inescapable sin that it will never be burned through. That she will never emerge like the phoenix, new and pure, hardened against everything that still hurts her even with how far she's come. Her lips tremble as they touch him, the burn she left upon him. She won't cry, not here with Deimos and her underlings watching her. But she wants to, briefly. 

Instead, she lets her face fall slack and expressionless, revealing nothing as she paints across every bit of area the burn covers. Her muzzle is stained pale blue, but she doesn't have it in her to care. Turns and idly brushes her face against her inner leg, painting that, too. Dips her muzzle back into the gold, wonders how they achieved that shade, before turning and drawing it in a discordant slash across the blue. Stares silently, feeling like this is something important, has to be with how her heart aches in her chest like a bruise. Something symbolic. Lifts her eyes slowly to the dark pits of Ashamin's, the ones that remind her of Alice, and things like home and comfort. Things she can't allow herself anymore, not with things like Rexanna, and children, and Thranduil. Wonders when her friendship with him, something she'd never deserved and never would, had begun to feel like a cliff's edge. Surely it was her own fault for twisting this into something new, because she broke everything that had to do with matters of the heart. 

At least she knew she could not break when it came to her herd, or she'd be left with nothingness. 

Through painted maw she whispers, for his ears alone. "Your heart will always be pure and golden, no matter what runs through your veins." She knew the electricity in him, some sort of magical kinship, one she'd felt when he'd reached for her heart in the desolate wastelands of snow. Cleared her throat softly and turned, slipping past the tent flaps, cloth brushing somberly against her skin. "Come, Alice." The bitch follows after her, brushing comfortingly against her foreleg. Hotaru leaves with her head high and mouth painted, showing no sign of the torment battling itself out in the arena of her ribcage. She is their Lady, she is composed and powerful. But she muses on the fact that her heart has always been her greatest downfall, and wonders when the final blow will come. She is growing tired of these constant, painful aches. 

Mentions @Deimos and a little of @Johnny and @Rexanna if anyone wants to read! But she also leaves so ahaha
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::Strong like the sea is stormy::

Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!
Plot with me here!

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#16

Deimos the Reaper
You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this 
long and lonely road to hell
the throne must be such a sad and lonely place

  The tent was suddenly a flurry of festivities, a rushing gale of joy and ebullience and exuberance, and he didn’t understand any of it.
 
The Reaper stood, lost in the shambles and the whirling tempest, as explanations were granted and hostilities were disassembled and the world took on such a bright, silly change. He watched as mares giggled, as his son rampaged and rushed away, as streaks of paints and symbols were exchanged in fond merriment, at a complete loss as to what to do or how to act. The tent was no longer a vital piece of secret, covert information or restless, cloak and dagger meetings, but an interloping of jovial pursuits launching from thread to thread, and all he could do was look on with a blank, stunned, stupefied look.
 
Was he supposed to participate? Witness? Stare? Stand silent amongst the crowd, just one more shadow on the horizon?
 
The only art he composed was death - archaic, sinister, and brutal. The only great, grand opus he ever orchestrated was one of vile, monstrous actions – menacing pulses, malevolent yearnings, the bestial, ferocious shades of war, mayhem, and abhorrence. But none was to be found here – even to the beast who thought he could stain the bizarre, merry affair.
 
The Lord was a stranger here, even amongst the rippling tides of his members – the ones he fought for, the ones he protected, every single day.
 
“Interesting,” was all he said, bewildered, confused, and perplexed, gazing at the maneuvering frames and the wild gestures of amiability and generosity.
 
He thought about leaving – motioning back into the dark enclaves, along the twisting, noxious corridors, along the folds of belligerent, savage beasts, because he wasn’t a part of the buoyant, lighthearted crowd. The demon was comfortable in his reign of terror, in his dominating, overwhelming hate; and this, this whole charade, left him awkward and restless, strained and frayed. The dusk was more inviting, the soulless, heartless chords of his emboldened lifestyle, of his audacious, cruel, criminal sentiments, alluring, beguiling, and enticing…
 
But then Hotaru touched him, and he nearly flinched in surprise. It stole him away from his rasping reverie, and his gaze followed hers, arching slowly, carefully, tilting his head in question, in query, towards her approach and intentions – but the motion didn’t drag on for long, and he was left with more uncertainty, more vague contortions.
 
So he lowered his maw to the collection of leaves, already dead, curled, and decrepit, dipped it in a berries’ blue hue, and removed himself from the tent, avoiding eyes and stares and imminent interest, following his son’s motions. The beast allowed himself a small smile, before towering over the lad and attempting to make the tiniest of raindrops towards the top of the fabric; as if one day they could cascade down or pool in a sunken sector.



Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#17

Ashamin, preoccupied with his fatherly watch over the scene and his conversation with Johnny, didn't notice Rexanna coming up behind him. The tracing of the feather on his hindquarter was at first just a tickle like breath, but it quickly became a quicker sensation that he had to fight off. The haruspex froze, standing stiff as if in some sort of body-locked fear, and his two bondeds let out quiet brays in gentle mocking. After all, one didn't expect the warrior buck to be ticklish, did they?

Ashamin had wanted to insist that Johnny need not make an outing, but Rexanna's little act had him too shocked to reply with anything more than a stiff nod. As he slowly relaxed and curled back his head--watching Johnny go, seeing Rexanna paint--his two companions moved from their paintings on the tent canvas to stand beside their bonded. Their noses, still wet with red and black paint, turned up and pressed eagerly against Rexanna's swollen belly, just below the hip. Ashamin, eager to return her gesture, swiped a bit of blue paint from the wet lingering on his left and connected a line to those made by his companions. Together they created a knotted symbol, one of motherhood to pair with the fatherhood Rexanna had marked on him. Just as Rexanna did not break their silence, Ashamin only gave her a soft smile. Their connection, whatever it was, need not be marred by any further complication. He would treasure the mark she'd left on him just as he would treasure their friendship and their child.

After a time Johnny returned, materials floating about him, and made magic as usual. As always, watching Johnny work was a pleasure. Ashamin didn't plan to delay in thanking the weaver, but as so often happened time got away from him and others arrived and left. What came next brought with it nothing but hurt.

Hotaru, whom Ashamin had not seen since their last encounter (when he had asked for the force of her storm on the mountain,) arrived like an elegant whisper. She said little, gracing the tents inhabitants with her presence but never lingering long. Ashamin watched, something sparking within him (jealousy?) as she touched her delicate lips to the reaper and walked away without harm.

He did not expect her to draw close to him--not with the pain of their last encounter still clear on his flanks and breast, not with the hurt of it so obvious in her eyes when they met the haruspex's. But she did come closer, she took one step after another until finally she was before him. He listened to her heartbeat, drew it into his own breast with as much comfort as he could provide, and let his eyes close as she drew closer with paint upon her nose. His head dipped, his breath was steady at first and then uneven, choppy with something like desire, as she touched him.

It was so tender, so delicate, and so precise all at once. The careful maneuvering so that he did not even feel her horn, the perfection of her touch that was so far the opposite of her magic's fury. This was the Hotaru that Ashamin knew, and the Hotaru that the haruspex believed, perhaps, no one else did. His two companions watched, Rakt in vague curiosity and Lochan in perfect wonder, as the exchange took place. Hotaru's words, a whisper, struck Ashamin with the same force as her electric magic. All of it, it hurt just as much.

Ashamin spoke without thinking, a little louder than he should have, when he felt her pull away. "Hotaru, wait, I--" but when he tried to send his heartbeat to her, when he tried to recover the comfort of her beat, when he finally opened his eyes, he saw only the shadow of pink through the tent--heard nothing.

Rakt, impatient, nudged the haruspex's knee and looked up with unbroken gold eyes. Suddenly Ashamin became very aware of how many had gathered here, how public their exchange had been. His confidence faltered, his eyes scanned the tent with nervous energy, and he stuttered out his exit. "I-I must depart. I have matters to attend to... with our Lady Hotaru. But I thank you all for coming, and hope you continue to enjoy yourselves."

An awkward silence, a fluttering of his own pained heart as he stepped cautiously towards the exit. "Farewell," he added as if out of obligation before beckoning his companions and leaving the confines of the tent. He had to follow that pink shadow. He would follow her anywhere.

""
Ashamin


Thanked @Johnny
Painted a blue/red/black Celtic Trinity Knot on @Rexanna with his companions, to symbolize her woman/motherhood.
Followed @Hotaru out of the tent and left (for now)

Thank you all for participating! Ashamin has left but feel free to continue posting or depart or make threads from this, etc. Another meeting for Frostfall will be up shortly.


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



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