"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 rushed through his veins, much like his body rushed over the lands below him. Wings cupped the air as if the wind were their lover, feathers dancing and tilting as the rhythm of wingbeats slowly increased. The stallion knew not where he flew - there was so much to look at, so much to explore and discover. How could he hope to see it all, learn it all? He wasn't an explorer, nor a discoverer of new things - he was Ivezho, a beast never meant to leave his home.
But left his home he did, upon the same wings that brought him to these fields that touched the sky, and though he wanted to feel regret for his actions - he found himself living for the first time instead.
It didn't mean he would never return - it just meant that he wasn't ready yet. He wanted to be selfish, to live and learn and discover without feeling the need to explain himself to anyone - to his father, his mother, his brother, and probably the island full of siblings the Throat contained now as well. He wanted to be free from it all, if only for a little while - and yet he knew he shouldn't.. But the guilt wasn't enough. He didn't feel homesick, he didn't feel the urge to return to the sandy plains - yet.
Somehow he always knew he would return, for it was his home. Ivezho glanced with emerald pools to the south as he landed atop this mountainous range, and he sighed - he would return there, just not yet.
As she grew Mordecai had begun to spend more and more time outside of the borders of the Dragon's Throat. She shirked her duties because she preferred the time she had to spend alone above the time that she had to spend patrolling with horses she didn't care about. Were it not for her mother and father and her siblings she would have bid the Throat 'goodbye' the day she'd been old enough to care for herself. But they kept her bound to them, chained to a life of duty and honor and loyalty that she didn't want. She wanted to be free, not a captive to the ideals that her parents wanted, so badly, to instill in her.
It was when she was alone that she got a taste of what a life of freedom would be like. When she was alone the only loyalty she held was to herself and herself alone. It was when she got back to the Throat that she found herself envying those who got to keep the life that she wanted so badly. Like Abraham, free to wander wherever he pleased, just him and his dragons. No one to tell him where he needed to be or what he should be doing, or worrying over what kind of impression he needed to give to anyone he met.
She had departed from the Dragon's Throat before the sun had even risen into the sky to avoid her mother's (judgemental?) stare as she, once again, left behind her family for her own selfish desires. The sky was just beginning to turn brilliant shades of orange and gold and yellow when she finally landed on the mountain top field. There she stood and she watched the sunrise alone, but she wouldn't remain that way for long. The sound of wings filled the air sometime later and the girl turned to watch as another, someone she'd never seen before, landed in the field. Rather than speak she stood silently watching him, looking for subtle nuances that would tell her where he had come from.
"."
MORDECAI
maybe life is nothing more than a curse inside the blessed
i'll fight this bloody war with every strangled breath
The rising dawn tugged at his vision, pulling his attention to the east, to the brilliant colours dancing across the sky and the fiery orb that rose on the horizon. Ivezho seemed to draw in the Sun's light, his own glow seemingly increasing, a beacon of fire and light and purity - a stark reminder of the home he had left behind. Look at you, he recalled Ranjiri's words, you belong there, she had said, and he ground his teeth at the memory. It annoyed him, that he should be so 'blessed' with the Sun Lord's magic, that his friend thought that should be enough of a reason for him to go home, to be satisfied with his lot.
He wasn't satisfied. He wasn't homesick for the sandy basin of his home, the fresh waters of the oasis nor the salty air that rolled in off the ocean that surrounded his home. He just wanted to be, to exist, as he was, without restriction or chains dragging him home.
If only he could realise that it was those chains he yearned for, for they would have brought him a sense of belonging, a security blanket to hold and cherish.. Alas, he was decidedly not interested in returning home, not yet - not ever?
He huffed at the thought of never returning, letting the feeling, the idea of it, wash over him, even as he knew he would return one day. When? Whenever I want, he bit back at his own thoughts, ears twirling atop his crown as he mulled and chewed on everything.
So embroiled in his own inner monologue was he that he neglected to notice the presence of another, not until the sun in its entirety was free of the eastern horizon, beginning its lazy ascent up and over the heavens that were slowly turning bright hues of blue and white. Even then, it was his eyes aching from the prolonged squinting at the horizon that caused him to turn away, to shake his crown as if shaking the image of the Sun from it, and realise that he was not alone.
She was a raven, stark in her blackness, except for the paleness of her tail. The young stallion raised a 'brow in interest, wondering what she was doing here, who she was - why is she looking at me?
He murmured a low call, a greeting, both an invitation for her to approach him and a request to see how she might react if he were to approach her.
He glowed. Why was he glowing? Mordecai's head tilted as she continued to observe the taller boy and there was something about him that struck a chord within her. He was familiar, but she knew she had never seen him before. She would have remembered if she had. She wracked her brain, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar and when Gaucho's face finally popped into her head, her eyes narrowed a bit. Rhoa's face, the boy that had helped save her when her mother had tried to kill her was the next face she thought of, and her head tilted. "Maybe." She thought. There were similarities, but she wasn't convinced that he could be related to the Sultan or Rhoa.
"M'ath." She said after her called to her, but she made no move toward him even though she wanted to investigate farther. "Fin hash yer?" She said before it occurred to her that more than likely he wouldn't understand her. She had not met many that were fluent in the tongue her father had taught her. "Who are you?" She amended, her voice rough as she forced out words in the common tongue that she did not particularly care for.
Her nostrils flared and she breathed in the stallion's scent in an attempt to decipher where he came from. All she smelled was stallion and sweat, which to be fair, was common in the Throat, but he held nothing else that suggested that was where he'd come from. Mordecai snorted softly and began to walk toward the unknown man. Her head was held high, which spoke volumes of the confidence that she had in herself. "Where from?" She breathed in his scent again as she got closer. "Don't smell like Throat." But you resemble Gaucho, somewhat... and Rhoa.
"."
Translation:
m'ath - hi
fin hash yer - who are you
MORDECAI
maybe life is nothing more than a curse inside the blessed
i'll fight this bloody war with every strangled breath
The rising dawn illuminated the belle in a most enchanting way - Ivezho thought he saw tracings of stripes scrawl their way down her withers and flanks, but then again it could have been the trick of the light, an illusion, a fantasy. As her dark lips uttered words he so very easily understood, his ears pricked higher, surprise lightening his face as he considered the implications of her knowledge of the Dothraki tongue. It thrilled him, actually, to meet another of who knew of the native tongue of his father - Ivezho was fluent, naturally, his mother being a linguist and his father being a khal in all aspects of the word. He smiled as the young mare translated her words, before replying with smooth efficiency; "Ivezho anha hakelat," Ivezho is my name, "fin hash yer?"
He repeated her own question back at her, his curiosity piqued, his interest hooked. She came near him, and he welcomed the closeness, happily investigating her with all of his senses that she would allow - he drank her appearance with his emerald eyes, he swallowed her scent into his lungs and explored what history her personal musk could tell him - he even reached out with his velvet maw to try his chances at brushing her cheek with a gentle, yet firm caress, in greeting, and polite investigation.
"Anha yol she qile ki shekh akka qeshah," I was born in the land of sun and sand, "vosma arrek anha…" but then I… He paused, wondering how much he should tell - how much did she truly want to know? They were perfect strangers, perfect strangers except she was almost definitely from the Throat, and she somehow knew that he was from there too - he was the pale version of his brother, after all, and his frame did mimic the mighty Gaucho's too. "Anha lei," he concluded simply, succinctly, wondering if it would satisfy this certainly compelling femme.
Her head lifted, her expression brightening a bit when the boy answered her in the tongue she was most comfortable with. A grin curled the corners of her mouth toward the sky as he gave her his name and asked for her's in return. "Anha zin Mordecai." He reached out to her and for a split second Mordecai's ears fell back against her head and she felt the urge to nip at his muzzle, a warning for him to keep his distance. Just as quickly as the urge surfaced it disappeared and she allowed Ivezho to touch his muzzle to her cheek. It was a strange feeling for the girl who usually did not allow anyone to touch her, but it actually wasn't too uncomfortable.
He spoke again and Mordecai studied him as he claimed to have been born and raised in the land of sun and sand. Why hadn't she seen him, then? Why was he so strange and unknown if he was from the same place that she called home. "Fin hash yeri mai akka ave?" She asked when he paused before claiming that he had become lost. "Lei? Kifinosi?" She questioned. How did one become lost in the Dragon's Throat? It was nothing but a big sandy island with little cover. And how did he get so far away if he was lost? It didn't make any sense unless he had left the Throat and gotten lost and that was why he was so far away and she hadn't seen him there. That made sense, she supposed
"Tat yer nesat jin akka irge?" She found herself asking the lost soul. "Anha laz attihat yer jin akka irge, vosma Anha zin vo hethkat elat." She offered and, boy, would her mother be proud of her for being nice to someone that she didn't know.
"."
Translation:
Anha zin Mordecai - I am Mordecai.
Fin hash yeri mai akka ave? - Who are your mother and father?
kifinosi? - how?
Tat yer nesat jin akka irge? - Do you know the way back?
Anha laz attihat yer jin akka irge, vosma Anha zin vo hethkat elat. - I can show you the way back, but I am not ready to go.
MORDECAI
maybe life is nothing more than a curse inside the blessed
i'll fight this bloody war with every strangled breath
Mordecai, she called herself, and immediately he ran it through his mind, trying to find its root, its meaning; his mother had imprinted upon him languages from across all the realms of Loorien. Her name was spoken in a tongue he hadn't touched on much, but from what he could recall, he saw a warrior; it was a powerful name, its meaning was deep and many layered. Warrior was but one way to define it; there were histories, stories associated with it. And what was there to his own name? Beast, there was nothing great or strong in his name, nothing but what he saw as dark connotations. Beast, like he was something mindless, something soulless, something worthless. And yet his brother, Rhoa, whose name shared the same meaning, had resolved to live a purposeful life, a life where he certainly wasn't worthless; why was it that Ivezho felt so this way?
The tension his proposed touch caused through the mare was obvious, yet he didn't waver or hesitate in his attempt, and smiled against the mare's cheek as she did allow it. Ivezho was a creature of touch and feel as much as he was one for speaking and weaving words and learning all that there was to gleam from this life (something which he was admittedly poor at too).
Why she wanted to know who his mother and father were irked him a bit, but he was too swept away with speaking to someone who knew such an uncommon tongue that he relented - and he prayed he would not regret revealing the bloodlines that flowed through his veins, he prayed that she would not treat him any differently, that she would still allow his touch, as he gently made to move his maw down her nape with whisper-light caresses, pausing to rest near her withers. "Khal Wildfire anna ave, Khaleesi Transcended anna mai," King Wildfire is my father, Queen Transcended is my mother. Her next question caused him to think a bit more, his brow furrowed in thought and his words were chosen with delicate care. "Anha nesat jin akka," I know the way, he says, allowing a smile to curl his lips as he echoes her last sentiments back to her, "vosma Anha zin vo hethkat elat."
He was confident and Mordecai could appreciate that. Had he hesitated when she'd tensed before she would have taken it for weakness and aimed a bite at his face. His muzzle moved from her cheek, down her neck to her withers and the sensation of it was something that the girl had never experienced before. Quite suddenly her stomach felt as if there were butterflies fluttering around and she snorted softly. It wasn't unpleasant but it was strange and she wasn't sure if it was a good strange or bad.
She noticed the way he seemed to stall when she asked of his parents but then he revealed that Gaucho was his fire and she grinned to herself. She had been right when she had spotted the similarities. It had to mean that Rhoa was his brother, but she didn't press on that subject. Instead, she wondered if Ivezho was as strong as his father. "Zhokwa vorsa." She murmured as she thought of the khal and his flaming wings. The first time she'd met him she'd been terrified of him, but as she'd grown that fear had diminished. "Mae et san yalli." But she didn't know who this Queen Transcended was as she was no longer queen. "Khaleesi Sunspear ajjin anna mai."
He claimed that he knew the way back to the Throat, but if he knew the way back how could he have been lost? "Hash yer sekke lei?" The dark girl asked as she reached to push her muzzle against Ivezho's shoulder. She paused, then, and she breathed in his scent and let it wash over her. "Che hash yer seris?" She whispered.
"."
Translation:
Zhokwa vorsa - big fire
mae et san yalli - he has many children
Khaleesi Sunspear ajjin anna mai - Queen Sunspear is my mother
hash yer sekke lei - are you really lost
che hash yer seris - or are you free
MORDECAI
maybe life is nothing more than a curse inside the blessed
i'll fight this bloody war with every strangled breath
The mare was primal, ancient and direct with her actions, her behaviour. Her presence called to a similar creature within Ivezho - to the beast who lived and breathed in a very physical world, a world where only body language was sung, lived, enjoyed. She didn't balk at the beast's touches, though perhaps she shivered - if she were human, maybe gooseflesh would raise small bumps on her skin - either way, the beast continued, and Ivezho mentally stood aside, merely an observer of the actions his body instinctually performed. Lips began, with small circles traced in her dark (striped?) pelt, and then teeth slipped through, making the massage firmer, working into whatever areas she proffered, whatever place desired the soothing itch-relief they could give. He liked the taste of her; feminine, wild and- she tasted like home, like sand and heat and sun, like spars and family and-
She spoke again, commenting most aptly on the ascended flame that was Ivezho's father. The beast grunted, a deep groan resonating in his chest, a lion's purr of agreement - he would almost agree to anythng right now. The number of siblings Ivezho had was mentioned, at least in the capacity to say that said number was large - and again Ivezho gave a low, guttural acknowledgement. "Anha zin ki mae atakiyol rizh," I am of the firstborn sons, he murmured with his deep, rough tones, the tongue they had chosen to speak in encouraging the beast within him to consume him entirely, completely.
He was surprised to hear that she descended from a Khaleesi herself, but he did not hesitate in his motions or his words (and he prayed that she would have told him if she were his sister), for he hated when others treated him differently once they knew the blood that writhed through his veins also belonged to the Wildfire, and so he endeavoured to take this mare based on what she was offering him, on who she was rather than the bloodlines that created her. "Sek," he said when she spoke of freedom, "seris," he repeated emphatically, leaning into the touch she made against his own shoulder, happily closing the few breaths of air that remained between them. He lipped and tugged at the strands of mane that lingered, windswept and unkempt at her withers, enjoying their texture, their taste, before offering to her, "tikh seris ma anna" - (be free with me) - "akka fin disse ha asshekh" - (even if only for today).
His touches continued, grew firmer and even more confident and she decided that the strangeness of the encounter was not the bad sort of strange. She found that she enjoyed the way his teeth nibbled against her flesh. She shifted closer as he said something about being on of the firstborn sons, but it mattered very little to Mordecai right at that moment. He could have told her that he was actually the Khal, that the sky was purple and goats farted rainbows and she wouldn't have cared as long as he kept talking. She liked how the roughness of the Dothraki tongue made his voice sound gruff, almost harsh, and so very appealing.
Yes, he said when she asked if he were free and she felt the pinprick of envy. How she would love to have the freedom that he had, but why couldn't she? Then he offered it to her, asked her to be free with him even if it was only for the day. But she didn't want freedom for one day. She wanted an entire lifetime of freedom. "Anha tat vo zala tat tikh seris ha disse jin asshekh." She murmured against Ivezho's shoulder. "Anha zala tat tikh seris ayyey." But who was she to deny a day of freedom, true freedom, when it was offered to her? Was it not what she so desperately wanted?
Ivezho tugged at her mane and Mordecai lifted her head, her dark eyes searching for Ivezho's emerald ones. "Attihat anna." She whispered. "Attihat anna hash tat tikh seris ... akka fin me ajjin disse ha asshekh." She did not think on the implications or the weight of the words she spoke. Ivezho had appealed to her most primal desire and she had caved quickly and easily.
"."
Translation:
anha tat vo zala tat tikh seris ha disse jin asshekh - i do not want to be free for only a day
anha zala tat tikh seris ayyey - i want to be free always
attihat anna - show me
attihat anna hash tat tikh seris ... akka fin me ajjin disse ha asshekh - show me how to be free ... even if its only for today
MORDECAI
maybe life is nothing more than a curse inside the blessed
i'll fight this bloody war with every strangled breath
Freedom - what was it? And how did one obtain it, and hold onto it? Freedom was an ideal, a state of mind, was it something that any one person could give another, or was it something you had to take for yourself? Ivezho thought about it - about the freedom he claimed to have - did he really have it at all? Freedom of choice was one thing, but true, real, tangible freedom?
What even was that?
He was tugged away from the potentially too deep and meaningful thoughts of freedom and liberty by the insistent caresses, the pressure of her maw against his shoulder, the taste of her on his own tongue and within his own nostrils - Ivezho had been this near to one other before, but he had restrained himself, for his other party that time had not wanted the nearness to linger too long, and so Ivezho had restrained the beast within, the creature that lived on instincts and primordial urges and desires.
With every word she spoke, she abolished what restraints Ivezho still held over that beast, that creature of primitive, primal drives. It broke free - and Ivezho stored away another meaning for freedom in his mind.
Mordecai lifted her tiara, seeking his gaze out, and he leaned his larger, masculine crown toward her own to hold that gaze, his eyes a deeper green than they ever had been, filled with the lust, the desire that she had awoken him. Was this freedom? Could he give it to her?
Or was she giving it to him?
He heard her, the command she gave him, the permission, and Ivezho could not hold back, could not contain the beast. Heat ran through him, as his wings lifted high - even in the daylight, he glowed, he shone, a beacon filled with light and life, a Sun in his own right. He began by extending his maw to her own, lipping at her whiskery lips, moving along the refined edges of her mandible to lick at her cheek - he wanted to taste every part of her, to discover and know everything that she was. He moved near her ear then, before tracking down the jugular curve of her nape, coming to her chest, her pectorals.
They were taut and plump, and he lipped at them for a moment, before pressing his own chest against them, and slinging his crown over her withers - he held her, none too gently either. He was Ivezho now, the beast their shared language spoke of, not the polite boy raised with good manners and shy smiles - no, that boy was free now, free to explore, to grow, to live.
He held her, and felt the rush of blood accelerate his own heart, he felt his muscle pounding within his chest and knew that she could feel it too. She wasn't short, but he was taller, and he stretched his glowing wings around her in an embrace too - his maw working across her back while he did so.
She was different to the last mare he had done this to - but then, Eldala had shackled him, she had paused the heat that flowed through his veins (and he had let her), but Mordecai, she was different she unclipped the leash and collar and then threw them away. She invited him, and he was all too happy to take that invitation.
Somehow, he had moved down to her flank, lipping at the sensitive flesh there, (and welcoming the gesture if she so desired to return it with a rush of heat to whichever area she might caress). Every now and then his teeth placed a scraping bite upon her - he wanted her to feel the heat, the pain of the lust he was feeling. He wanted her to taste what he had to give her (and he wanted to taste all of her, too). His motions never ceased, continually he inched closer and closer to where the beast within wanted to be - but he had to know, to see if she truly wanted what he had to offer, if this was the freedom she wanted. The heat grew within him, the desire, the lust, and Ivezho didn't know if he could put that restraint back on it for long - with his shoulder near her hip, he teased at the dock of her tail with his lips…
Strange, strange, strange. Mordecai could not shake just how strange it was to be so close to someone she didn't know and to want them to be even closer, nor could she shake the excitement that made her heart beat faster. Unbidden, her body trembled, the anticipation and excitement building as his lips moved to her cheek. He was taking his time exploring her body and for once the girl had patience. Each touch was like a little spark of electricity shocking her system and she pressed her muzzle against his neck. "Anha tikh vo samvolat." Her voice was dark, her tone rough as she spoke and she nipped sharply at Ivezho. She was Dothraki, she was not some delicate princess that needed to be handled with care; she was born and bred to be a fighter. She could handle whatever Ivezho had to throw at her.
It was then, after she spoke, that he shoved his chest against her own and she could feel the weight of his head on her withers. She nipped at him again at him to encourage him to keep going. He stretched his wings and wrapped her up in them, holding her where she was as his carresses moved across her back. She, in turn, nibbled and nipped at his shoulder and neck and wherever else she could reach.
His wings fell away, the warmth of his embrace disappearing and leaving her warm flesh exposed to the cool air in their mountain top meadow. He worked his way down her body and as he did she was able to reach more of him. She bit at his withers, scraped her teeth against his back, and nipped at his belly.
Keep going...
Her breath was shallow, rapid, and she couldn't bite back the gasp when she felt his muzzle against the dock of her tail. It twitched, the tangled white threads of it whipping against Ivezho's chest as she turned her head to look at him. Lust had made her dark gaze even darker and she began to move, to turn so that her back was to him.
Don't stop...
Mordecai looked over her shoulder at him, stepped back to press against him and encourage him to do what they both wanted. There was no stopping, no containing the wildfire that raged within the both of them. Only Ivezho could douse the flames of lust that he had ignited within her, but would he do it? Or would he be a demon, a beast and keep teasing her?
"."
Translation:
anha tikh vo samvolat - i will not break
ooc://
we can fade to black whenever c:
MORDECAI
maybe life is nothing more than a curse inside the blessed
i'll fight this bloody war with every strangled breath
It was an intense, fierce collections of moments, each one as vivid as the last, each one profound, exquisite, extraordinary.
Each touch lit a new flame on his senses, each bite was returned by his own lips, his teeth scraping at her skin, his tongue leaving marks as it tasted her sweat, her musk, her. It engulfed him, the flames of their desire, their lust, and he was consumed, wholly and completely - he glowed, a beacon upon heaven's mountaintop, a stallion in all senses of the word, a boy yearning to recognise his manhood, a beast ready to take it, to claim it.
It was deep and guttural, the echo that rumbled through his barrel and croaked through his gullet. It was sensual, as she pressed herself close to him - did flames dance between their frames, or was it just desire? It was torturous, the waiting, the decision (and he was so close, so close to relinquishing control altogether, to succumbing to the beast and just taking her, for he didn't know if he could contain it any longer, he was so close, so close..)
And then he felt the pale strands of her tail splash against him, he smelt her wholly, completely, and he relinquished that control.
It was instinctual, the urge to rise and embrace her hips with his fores, the desire to spread his wings over hers and clamp then down to her side. His teeth reached out, aiming to bite and hold firmly the maned base of her neck.
Ivezho wasn't going to douse the flames of desire that was raging between them.
It wasn't until Ivezho slipped from her back and the cool breeze washed over her skin that she realized how cold it was. Had the temperature around them dropped or had their combined body heat really been that high? She snorted softly and quickly decided that it didn't matter and she didn't care. He was still close, she could still feel the ghost of his teeth against her neck and his feathers against her sides among other things that she didn't dwell on. The fire that he had ignited within her was beginning to flicker and fade. The momentary taste of freedom dissipated as the real world began to come back into harsh focus. The freedom that Ivezho had offered her definitely didn't last long enough for her taste, but it had been fun.
Mordecai felt as if she should say something or do something instead of stand there and look across the meadow, but what was there to say? "That was fun, lets do it again sometime? It was good? Ready for round two? Take me again? Go away, I'm tired of you?" What did you say to someone you fucked that you didn't love or really even care about? Did you cuddle or stand there awkwardly and wait for the other party to leave? If he wanted to cuddle, she decided, he could make the first move since he was probably the more experienced party.
"Majin rek's seris?" She finally said as she continued to stare across the meadow. She wanted to be lost in whatever world it was that Ivezho had dragged her in to, the one where the only thing that mattered was his skin against her's and the fire between them. Even though she was young she knew that that type of freedom that he offered wasn't one that would ever last forever, but it was nice while it lasted.
"Atikh yer athessazar tat Dragon's Throat?" Came her next question and with that she turned looked to Ivezho to watch his expression. "Fin yer tat anha tikh tihat yer save." And... perhaps have another taste of his special brand of freedom.
"fin yer tat anha tikh tihat yer save."
Translation:
Majin rek's seris - so that's freedom
Atikh yer athessazar tat Dragon's Throat? - will you return to dragon's throat
fin yer tat anha tikh tihat yer save - if you do i will see you again
MORDECAI
maybe life is nothing more than a curse inside the blessed
i'll fight this bloody war with every strangled breath
Ivezho felt tired but energised at the same time, he felt like he had gone for a long fly, or sparred, but it was different than all that, it was more - he felt alive.
He liked it.
Sweat darkened both their hides, and he lingered by her side, quietly enjoying her company - making mental notes of all the bits and pieces of her that he couldn't see before. There were stripes on her back, dripping down both of her sides, faded brindle markings that seemed to blend into her. He noticed it, just as he noticed the curve of her hips, the happy fatigue that seemed to quiet her down, the way they simply existed together. He was content - though, if she wanted to stroke the flames of desire within him again, he wouldn't deny her.
So that's freedom? she asked, and he huffed a small laugh, moving his crown to reach for her mane and lip at it playfully. "Jin akkate ki seris," a kind of freedom, he agreed with his deep tones crafted around the mother tongue of his father's lands. He wondered how she knew it, how she seemed so comfortable in its rough edges - how she seemed to embody the very language with her simple yet elegant appearance. A quiet power seemed to emanate from her, and it reminded him of home, of family and friendship.
For the first time in a long time, Ivezho felt connected to another - not necessarily in a loving, doting sort of way, but more of a familiar, friendly, comradery way. She mentioned the Throat, and he hummed a low "Sek" in reply.
To her last comment, he grinned, and shrugged his shoulder against her own. "Anha tikh allayafi rek," I would like that.
And finally, the idea of going home seemed wholly more appealing.
@Mordecai
Happy to let this thread fade to black - we should have another when he's back in the Throat ^^
veerdesigns | larfsalot on deviantart
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts I write what I feel at the time and hope everyone else does the same c:
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
