the Rift


[OPEN] like wounded wolves at bay

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
#1
The Reaper donned his heathen cloak and stood amongst the threshold of the never-freezing lake, staring amidst the grounds, the territory, the great, grand sovereign he reigned upon. In the bewitching scale of dawn, along the outcrop of domination and soullessness, he pondered what had become of all of them, what had altered, what had been thwarted, deceived and mended. Why did some run? Why did some flee? Why did, no matter how hard they tried, escape to somewhere else? Why did he care?
 
How many souls had been thwarted here? How many lives had been changed? How many wiles, schemes, and ruses had been concocted, failed, and manifested again? How many times had they ruled the realm with cunning, with determination, with absolute, vital resolution? How many times had they made the world tremble from their ferocity? From their might? From their cruel, twisted endeavors? When beasts spoke of the Basin, did they still tremble? Did they still shudder? Did they remember the battles, the wars, the invasions, and campaigns? Did they recall the feeling of defiance, the pulsing, pervading itch of insolence, of contempt, of belligerent, barbaric loathing? Could they imagine the weight of their overwhelming swords? Could they piece together the art of their ethereal, savage dedication? Their persistence was an eclipsing, overwhelming stretch of bedlam and concoctions, rising past all their dismal, floundering defeats, all their humbling, impoverishing moments. Their leaders had been strong, conniving, immoral and flanked by iniquity, passion, and horror – all vile, all wicked, all strong. He wondered where he’d be remembered; perhaps scorned, perhaps forgotten, perhaps a fallen form on the backdrop of an ivory, indifferent canvas, where all their weary souls had gone to rest, where all their deceitful measures wandered off into the pale, hollowed void. Eventually, he too would be one more Reaper, slashing his scythe a final time, meeting the Lucifer, the Mephistopheles, who’d orchestrated and sculpted his frame from audacity and loathing. Another Lord sent to slaughter, another King crumbled into dust.
 
But through it all, he was a part of the mountains, a part of the snow, a part of the ferocious, ardent tirades and knotted, coiled shadows.
 
They’d been built from hate and anointed from vehemence, rancor, and vengeance. They’d wanted, they’d yearned, they’d craved, and in the end, after all their defeats, all their struggles, all their damned ruses, they’d managed to find a stronghold in the snowy, frozen abyss; tied and tethered by nonchalance, by defiance, by sedition, by rebellion. Didn’t it make sense for others to leave, subverting the decay, the savagery, because that was all they knew? All they understood?
 
Then, why, while all the brutality, all the horror, all the terror was still strung along his bones, through his blackened, cold, cruel little heart, did he remain?
 
He sighed into the aperture, watching the curl of warmth float away from him, ensuring he was still a living, breathing specimen, not just a statue, not just a column of marble or stone, then set his sights on naught but the rippling of the lake. He received not a single answer to his queries. The summits stayed vigilant and silent, proffering him naught but their dangerous, beguiling pinnacles, guiding him to destruction, to ruin, and to a mass of aspirations.

[Impending history lesson for those who requested it. Feel free to join! ;D]
Death, you bring death, and destruction to all that you touch.


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@Ming Yue @Ki'irha

Zahra Posts: 64
Outcast
Filly :: Pegasus :: 15hh :: 2 Years
Hanna :: Common Kitsune :: Fire & Ilham :: Bark Spider :: None Riven
#2
Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna
It was pride that turned angels into devils
The first night alone had been a little less comfortable than she had foreseen - no matter how misguided her anticipation had been. The Aurora Basin had beautiful qualities and perhaps if it had not been for their inspiring, soothing presence, Zahra might have turned tail and fled again into the remote, wooded wilderness that had kept them comfortable for most of the seasons they'd spent alone. Fresh, falling snow - unimaginably cold and wet - and chill that seemed to sink beneath her shivering skin and gnaw at her very bones, kept the fine-coated filly awake and restless for long (dreary) stints; even the cozy body of her well-furred companion seemed not to make a difference. It all felt like an anticlimax against the burning excitement which had just hours before, resonated and radiated through her; driven her heart to beat in frenzy for the future, for the unknown.

Had she been so fooled?

Tears froze beneath her eyes more than once during that night and she wept in vain for the routine and security now lost - the warmth and the shelter that seemed to be a whole lifetime away. She hid herself away from the eyes of those who Ashamin had called family, tucked beneath a dense thicket of pungent pine, evergreen giants whose spindly fingers whipped and whined as the wind thrashed through their tops. The frozen soil beneath, the sparse blanket of wiry grass, it was as close to home as could be managed. All the while she was miserable, surreal, bending colour bled down from the star-speckled sky; the enchanting and wonderful spectacle waltzed on and entertained her thoughts back from the brink. So too was the hum of activity further down the valley a healthy stimulation, and the yearling soon learned that through the eerie silence of the midnight hour, this family never seemed really to rest.

Soon enough light split the lonely darkness and down from the mountain's crooked peaks, dawn finally tumbled to illuminate the Basin.

Zahra was swift to rise and eager to stretch the stiffness from her aching body. Her coat was wet through - frost laid upon her hide had thawed quickly, and still she shivered without enough hair to shield. Hanna stirred too, as her sister began to move and yawned boldly as her bleary green eyes surveyed the new landscape around them. She had not been spared the sorrow of the young horse, and would have slumbered on given any chance; but alas they moved off down the hill and found themselves paused by the tree line, gazing out towards a glittering lake in the distance. Ilham burrowed still deeper into the web-hair cocoon she had crafted high in her sister's mane, appalled with the cold nature of the place. It certainly seemed the most unlikely home for any kind of family.

They trekked for a small while towards the great body of water (they'd seen it before, so it was a small and reassuring familiar), but ceased when the form of another became apparent in the strengthening light - a horned creature who seemed to blend into shadow. Not yet had it occurred to Zahra that she was unlike them. After a tentative visual examination, as discreet as could be managed, the painted Pegasus led her unsettled kitsune company towards the stallion and offered upon arrival a nervous smile, as steady as her rattling heart would allow. "Hi there." She murmured, unsure if she were interrupting a private moment between he and first morn, eyes trained awkwardly to the fierce spine dancing away from his forehead.



Note: I hope it’s alright if she joins (I can whip her out or delete if not ;)
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Permission given for all except death
Please only tag Zahra in openers and spars


Wishlist | The Spider-Silk Shoppe | Absences

Eldala Posts: 64
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.0 hh :: 3yrs (Ages in Frostfall) HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Capro :: Girgentana Goat :: None Goatfairy
#3





IT was still cold. There was still snow. But this morning brought with it one of those truly glorious views that only the Tundra could offer. The god-dwarfing mountains rose up tall across the Basin, fighting the sunrise, striving to keep the shade. Below them the glassy lake rebels and reflects the early golden light. She is struck, not for the first time, at how beautifully plain the landscape is when one truly looked. The complexity came only from the starkness of the tundra. However, hazelnut mare is thankful to be able to watch all this peaceful beauty commence from the relative warmth of her cave.  Days like these were the ones she knew she'd remember the most about this place if she ever left.

The beautiful flame in the sky is just beginning to rise up when she spots the small filly from yesterday emerging from the brush down below. /Well shit, that must've been cold./ She was easy to spot purely for the fact that she was a Pegasus in a land of unicorns. Eldala sleepily tracks the little one's path towards the big lake with vague interest. Horse watching: the best shit ever. The hazelnut mare has very little intent of getting up to follow the filly until she sees her pause. Ears perk up and ice-blue eyes dance about trying to find the source. When she finds the cause of the pause, a large and intimidating stallion, a sigh escapes her throat. /I suppose I should go make sure she doesn't die or something./


One large, laborious grunt later coupled with a quick trot and she's there just as the black and white filly utters her greeting. The terrene mare slows, as if she'd been exercising and not trying to ensure the safety of the young fem, and pulls up parallel to little Zahra. They don't quite touch but she's close enough to provide support. A small smile is offered to her along with the quiet greeting, "Good morning, Zahra! What do you say to finding you a cave house today?" It was a small offer, a hint that she'd known the little one hadn't picked a place. Shortly the short mare turned her small head to the regal stallion before her. She doesn't know who he is but bows her head a bit anyways. "And a good morn to you as well, sir. I don't think we've met. I am Eldala, an apprentice to Johnny." She left off the candy-colored studs rank for it seemed everyone who was anyone already knew who he was. The horse before her had such interesting colors and a regal nature, as if long worn down from battle, that she wondered if he were some great soldier or general.







@Ming Yue 
@Ki'irha

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△ All friendly/neutral contact is fine but no permanent injury/maiming/death △
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Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#4




The star girl came from nowhere. Well, no where in particular. She was born in a field, welcomed to the world by a swollen moon, a swarm of fireflies, and a mother with eyes like golden sunshine. Her surroundings were always changing as she aged, traveling constantly with two brothers she was inseparable from and her parents - a mother who wanted to give her the world, and a father who wanted her to conquer it. It wasn't a warm and fuzzy childhood, but instead one filled with battle and anger, teachings of hate and violence, trimmed with small lessons from a mother who would steal her starry child away to teach her about the softness that still survived in the world around her.   She never stopped moving, and though she and her brothers always believed they were moving forward, they truly had been running from her father's demons. Even after her father's death and brothers' likely demise, Ki'irha had continued running, not stopping until she had arrived within the threshold of Helovia. Even then, she still felt scattered, afraid to plant roots, unsure how to remain stationary without becoming sedentary.

Always running. Always running.

Her breath left her in a frozen whisper, rising from flared nostrils as the starry princess descended the rocky outcropping leading down from her cave. It was premiere real estate - tucked away behind several pines, but with space between the boughs and trunks to see the lake. She had been standing in the mouth of her cave for some time now, watching the shadows grow shorter as the morning sun climbed past the mountains, dyeing the sky pastel shades. It was serene. The beauty of the Basin was one of the things that helped keep her anchored, and convinced her to belong and stay put instead of continuing the life of an outcast. The Basin also provided provided the allure of home, and those who lived here she treated as family. Despite its vicious cold and harsh climate, a certain warmth came to the blue girl as she experienced something stolen from her by a set of vagabond parents. And, subconsciously, the lack of those with wings or without horns catered to a certain nostalgia imprinted on her before she could speak in coherent sentences.

But even that was changing. A pegasus girl had infiltrated their crowned ranks. Lost to her was the fact that the non-unicorn was a blessing, as the fact that tolerance had begun to sink into the bitter hearts of the northern dwellers showed progressive thinking at its finest. But it didn't calm the dissatisfaction that curdled in her heart. She needed to get over it, but today was not that day.

As she reached the foot of her precipice, long legs opened into a graceful stride, cloven onyx taking her along the jagged rim of the icy lake. She moved gracefully across the scenery, midnight pelt brushed with the soft glow of morning light. Her morning jaunts were typically spent in solitude, but it appeared as though she was not the only one who greeted the dawn upon its arrival on this particular day.

Her pace was leisurely, though her composure shifted as she adjusted her stature from morning jog to meeting with a king. A trio stood beside the water, sharing cordial salutations. The pegasus newcomer seemed to be making herself comfortable, and a chill rang angrily down her spine. Beside her, the newest crafting apprentice introduced herself. The blue tucked the girl's name away, glad to finally have it after seeing the doe several times previously. The Reaper was present, dark and ominous as always, and the star girl couldn't say with any certainty she had shared proximity to him, other than when he was doing appearances suited for the lord of the Basin. He had more important things to do than flutter about making social appearances. If he was anything like the Laurelin, he wouldn't know the difference between her and an outcast. But still, the lowly corporal did wish to make herself known to him. Even if he couldn't be bothered to remember her name, certainly he should know her face.

"Good morning, my Lord," she began, voice calm as to not disrupt the tranquility of the scene. She bowed, the gesture graceful and sweeping as she folded a leg and nearly grazed the ground with the tip of her horn. Resuming an upright position, she allowed her lionine tail to coil around a rear hoof, but remained at attention as to not show disrespect. Eyes flicked to Johnny's apprentice and she gave a shallow nod in greeting. She did not bother addressing the yearling. As far as the star girl was concerned, the newcomer was merely an oversight. Perhaps with Deimos present and here to see her among their ranks, he would be able to chase her from their home.

Or, perhaps he would mount her wings upon their threshold as a reminder to those who did not belong.

words
@Deimos @Zahra @Eldala -
~ My poor mother begged for a sheep, but raised a wolf. ~

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Ming Yue Posts: 36
Outcast
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 6 :: Ages in Frostfall
Danjah
#5


Through the shadows of the Basin she crept silently, with her cranium low to the ground. The beginning of Frostfall was biting, but gladly she was not having to feel miserable, as it had not appeared to have snowed yet. Whilst the cold ripped into her azurine patched pelt she was not shaking from the drips of water that would still cling to her regardless of how the liquid was formed. Ming Yue sighed as she continued, feeling nothing. Her bodice was empty of all emotions and feelings, much how she was feeling a lot lately, particularly after her encounter with the fae from the Throat.

Yet now in her herdland she was trying to forget yet still attempting to quell the chance to cry it out and scream. Why had she come here? She belonged in the Rift, and perhaps she should have died there...

Yet in the midst of all her thoughts that whizzed through her brain she had not spotted him, her Lord. The dark masculine bodice fed through her pools and she lapped up the familiar face of Deimos, remembering that he was the reason Ming Yue had been allowed to stay here in her times of need. She wanted to speak to him, but she could feel the warmth of other bodies surrounding him. All were unknown to him, all faes. One was very young with a light charcoal body edged in points of ivory and wings that matched the same hue. Her contrast of charcoal fading into ivory was striking, as was her stark cranium colouring. Ming Yue's thoughts stepped on the idea of this little filly being very camoflaged in the winter nights of Frostfall, but her thoughts changed to the next creature her pools laid eyes upon - the second fae. Her golden coat was indeed pretty, with a tree-like horn across a lightened almost ivory face that could have matched her tassles and the striped brindling over her rump. What caught the azurine fae's imagination the most was her bright azure pools that sparkled. She still remained silent as she lapped up the third and final creature here, a creature that almost represented herself - an azure horned fae. Her colouring almost sparkled like diamonds to her own blurry pools that were still etched with the worries and miseries of her own life.

Soon, she spoke up to make herself known to the small group that stood there. Her first words of greeting were mainly aimed at the females of the group, and her tone was high and welcoming,
"Hello, I hope I am not intruding on anything," she paused and then continued in an attempt to feel familiar in this little clearing of the Basin, "I am Ming Yue, you could say I was fairly new here." But then her attentions worked their way back to her Lord, the one whose body language gave the impression that the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. On her lithe and feminine pillars she attempted to step closer to him and greet him like any subject would do with their lord, "Deimos, my Lord. It has been a long time," she dipped her cranium and wondered why none of the others had shown the same courtesy, "It is good to see you again, I never managed to thank you for the sanctuary you granted me here. At least not properly..>" Her pools tried to meet his but they were still full of sadness and loneliness, something that her body language was easily hiding but her expression not so much. She wondered why they were all here. She wondered why she was here too.


" . "



@Deimos


Please tag Ming Yue in all threads! ♥

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
#6
  The Reaper could’ve spent hours amidst the winter edges and smoldering vehemence, strayed and adrift, brooding and brewing, calculating and devising. The desolation, the forlornness, was comfortable, safe, and familiar (and sometimes bitterly pathetic, wrenching whatever dredges of his heart still left beating in his vile chest). He could assail the world with dreaded touches and devastating strokes, but alone, without company, without others flocking at his beck and call, no ruin, no devastation, and no desecration could befall those he considered brethren.
 
But the hands changed, altered, morphed from isolation into confusion and befuddlement. For one moment, he was beside the lake, staring at the outcrops of chilling ardor, and the next, there was a child near him, winged and greeting. The narrowed glimpse of his stare took her in, painted and cloaked in feathers and plumage, fox companion in tow, and not a horn to be seen on her brow. No sword. No cutlass. No rapier. Not even a stub, an inkling of slow growth and precision.
 
His first thoughts were that perhaps he was hallucinating. They’d had several winged cretins within their midst, but all of them still carried a useful object along their crowns: dastardly blades, cutting antlers, and smoldering sabers. But this child had naught to be seen – and he wondered who on earth thought it’d be a grand scheme to allow this girl into their realm with nothing, nothing at all, to ward herself against the demonic beasts of the Basin. Hadn’t she known? Hadn’t she heard? Didn’t she understand that they were all bonded by blood, by disaster, by ruin, and they cherished it, lavished it, lacquered it to those treacherous foils extended into the sky, into enemies, into battles? He didn’t grant her the same nervous, twittering smile, the same shaky greetings – instead, all he could surmount from his mouth was the grasping, snarling query emboldening his mind. “Why are you here?”
 
And then another crossed into their midst – like foreign objects wandering in from nowhere – because he’d never seen any of these creatures (and how could that be, when he strove and dove through pathways and cliffs and icy shoals just as frequently as the rest of them?). She stood close to the filly, perhaps knowingly protecting her from the treacherous sway of their world, or maybe simply understanding his intimidating, overwhelming fixture (then why approach at all?). She didn’t even know who he was. His stare swept to her, a crafter, doomed to Johnny’s strange ministrations, and his lips parted again, attempting to delve into the odd situation. “Deimos, Lord of the Basin.”
 
More, more float across the snowy grounds as if heralded by a beacon (and surely it couldn’t be him – he always cast individuals away, and those who stayed, strayed, by his side were either patient or strong-willed to endure the unwinding calamity, the stiff, taut notions, the inability to do anything but listen and destroy). Ki’irha, all stars and strength, pinpointed his gaze from the peculiar filly (to which he could naught – not with so many eyes upon them, not with so many conflicts brewing and simmering below the surface), but he administered his salutations there as well, bowing his head in a familiar gesture. “Corporal.”
 
Even Ming Yue, all mysterious and enigmatic, all vibrant hues and collisions from the Rift - he still felt as if he knew nothing about that world – floated in, and he was stuck, strangled, and tethered to this menagerie of souls longing for his attention, for his discourse. “You are welcome,” he said to her, baffled and perplexed all the same at the amount of figures seeking his fixation. Some were menacing, some were sad, some were there out of simple curiosity. The demon was overwhelmed, plotting out an escape path by shadow and disaster, thinking perhaps to glance over at Ki’irha and see if she’d be willing to aid him in his plan, but thought better of it a moment later.
 
Did they want something from him? Did they need assurances, security, or measures he couldn’t quite comprehend?
 
He thought of his sire and the ways he’d told him to become a great leader – to love his people. But it was difficult to love, to cherish anything he didn’t know, didn’t grasp, didn’t understand – he dug his soul and buried it into the icy earth, but he hadn’t done the same for his patriots. He lowered his eyes then, perhaps a bit ashamed of his actions, of being the statue of vigilance but not the pride, not the esteemed, grand King they deserved. The beast clenched his jaw, attempted to ponder over the ways in which he could make amends for his ridiculous errors, for the same flaws he depicted and sketched over and over again.
 
But what could he do?
 
Then, it came to him, on a spark of knowledge, on a realm of sagacity. He’d been here for years, first a ghost of spectral ruin, a phantom of wreckage and havoc, and then their sovereign, wiling away on thrones and pathways – and he knew the history, knew the stories, knew how they’d come to be. But how many of them understood the lengths, the trials, the tribulations of how they’d founded their empire? The beast could tell them. He could inspire them. He could weave dedication and influence from the toils he’d experienced ages before.
 
A smile, real and genuine, small and hidden, tucked along his lips. It disappeared almost immediately thereafter, as his words melded their way into the fold, into the blooming crowd nestled at his daggers. The address was made to all of them, likely to launch a thousand stares. “What do you know about the Basin?” Perhaps the question would seem perplexing and distorted, reaching out to snag and snarl, disjointed from earlier proclamations – but he wanted to see, to visualize, what they knew of their home. How far would they go to save it, if they simply resided there, day in and day out, merely glancing at snow and rubble? How much would they cherish it if they remained completely, wholly ignorant of the people who clawed and scratched and maimed their way to ensuring the empire existed?


[Impending history lesson for those who requested it. Feel free to join! ;D]
Death, you bring death, and destruction to all that you touch.


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@Zahra @Eldala @Ming Yue @Ki'irha

Öde Posts: 145
Aurora Basin Disciple atk: 5 | def: 10 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hh :: 4.5 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Blu
#7
ÖDE
"It's cold," Öde answered as he slipped into the group, sidling nearer to Deimos than the rest - maybe because there was a spot there, or because he was drawn to the power of their crown, or just of his blood. He didn't mean his response to be childish. It was obvious maybe, but it was layered. "Not just the terrain," he continued to clarify, his red gaze flicking at those gathered, recognizing only Ki'irha, which was not surprising, he tended to keep to himself too often. "It's horses too. We are calculating as a herd, tactical and strategic, patient and prepared. The cold we endure has bred its qualities into us, strengthening us for its hardness and its bite." He recalled the desert mare, Maren, and some of the others he'd met. They tended to be brash and easily impassioned, as much touched by the heat of their lands as they were by the frost of the Basin. It was an interesting concept, and he wondered what the horses of the Falls and the Edge tended towards.

Which reminded him... "We conquered the Hidden Falls alongside the World's Edge some seasons past. We blindsided them with our devious methods, sneaking in the back and fooling at the front. They had no hope." He'd been there, and the energy and excitement of that moment brought a wide, proud grin to his features. War had been enjoyable for him. "We conquered the rift gods too," he added as an aside. Even if they weren't alone in that, their region had still been one of the first struck, their god one of the most (besides the Moon) attacked simply because there was so much confusion and uncertainty over what was happening.

What did he know of the Basin? Its formidable nature.
I have become DEATH
the destroyer of worlds.
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Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, including death - no decapitating.
Be aware active magic doesn't work in his vicinity due to his magic!


62.5/62.5 HP
Helovia Hard Mode

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
#8
He’s only just straggled into the meeting, still stiff and bleary eyed from heavy slumber because unlike the others and wholly unsurprisingly, Albrecht is not an early riser. That he rises at all some days is surely a miracle of some recently insulted or badly tempered deity bent on aggravating the land of the living for at least a few more hours.

The young stallion with red splashed across his brow, grinning and standing proud in the wake of his apparent idol, prompts a sudden outpouring of mirth. “The Basin is feral, ferocious… and yet we have babes frolicking in the snow and pink ponies weaving our wares." He teases, shifting the wrap of undyed wool coiled around his neck a little lower across his withers. "The Basin is elitist – racist - and yet we have bald faced applicants waiting at the gates, and yet we keep feathered friends among our ranks.” He nods to the white faced filly, his usual scowl softening for a moment around the eyes, silently broadcasting his lack of animosity towards her and her kind. “The Basin is changing, adapting. She’s a chameleon that takes what she needs and molds it to better effect. She doesn’t care how rough around the edges, how dysfunctional, or how unusual a character is so long as they perform a function. That is her strength.”

The more he speaks the more aware he becomes of the scene around him, the discordant mix of positive and negative emotions swirling unpredictably across the others features. He quiets suddenly, acutely aware of the attention he’s pinned to himself by speaking out so freely. Belatedly, he nods his head to the Lord of the Basin, adding a second nod for the Lord's esteemed Corporal, ears standing at opposite angles in his uncertainty.


OOC // Blabber-mouth would also like to learn some things.



Mentioned @Deimos @Ode @Zahra and @Ki'irha.
           
[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
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