"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.
Dark eyes gazed upon her, but she offered only an obscure smile to the Reaper's silent inquiries. He would grow fond of her yet, and she was intrigued by him as well. Perhaps her sense of pack and loyalty had infiltrated her too deeply, desiring a bond with the other Alpha she led with. His touch did not scald or draw from her the essence of her life, and she knew with his docile reaction - not that she'd ever allow him to hear such a word from her mouth in description of him - that she would soon do so again. But he was not the man that held her attention, and she had fallen into the obscure depths of Ashamin's eyes as she always did. And she hated herself for it, for the way her lips trembled and her mask cracked along the edges, revealing weaknesses she could not bear to recognize in the mirror. He brought out the remaining humanity in her, and she cringed away from it, from the thought that she still had something precious left for the world to destroy. And destroy it would, for she was never safe from the tempestuous fates and their cruel mockery of life's joys. He reflected the few battered good things she had left in her possession, he among them, and she could only see all the different ways that they would be crushed and taken from her.
That he could be taken from her. If he had not been already, by swollen sides and friendly faces that did not go icy and regal beneath the curious eyes of others. As she strode from the tent, Alice hurrying to her side, she could feel it. Feel the small, withheld smile betwixt her lips, as if she had not just stood beside the sun and dared to touch it. As if her entire world did not quake when she drew near him, because he represented all that she had once understood but had forsaken. And she had forsaken them for good reason, Hotaru desperately tried to remind herself. He had no right to enter her life and worm his way into her graces - she could not say her heart, could not call it what it was because she'd never be able to make it out of this tent, she would turn and throw herself before him and everything would be over. He had no right to tote his wholeness before her, experiencing emotions she'd frozen and burned out of herself so long ago. To tempt her with the idea that maybe she could nurture those barren fields, restore herself and her emotional capacities. Because it would make her weak, and while she may have been able to be convinced before her ascension, she could not afford it now. If not for her own sake, then for the herd's.
But his voice still has that unfair magnetic pull to it, and she wonders if anyone notices how her steps hurry as she hears her voice on his tongue, that soft baritone that makes her think of things like hope and new beginnings that she has never deserved and never will. Alice keeps careful pace with her, her own opinion silenced, and Hotaru could not help but let her gait quicken as she finally fell indistinct on the horizon away from the tent. They could not see her, nor label her evasion as a retreat, and so she let herself find speed if only for a moment. Deeper into the evergreens, their boughs brushing cold and ticklish against her sides. If they were to do this, if he were to chase her...
She had always been the one to chase. She had chased Thranduil, was still chasing eternally after his fading form. Phaedra had chased Tolio to the ends of the earth until at last he admitted defeat and did not attempt to evade her love. Hotaru had grown up with the belief that the woman was the one to hold both the power and the pressure, and yet here she was, fleeing from Ashamin. It was like a surrender all of its own, for he made her nervous, and not the rightful way around. She wanted so badly to speak to her mother, to ask for wisdom, for advice. But instead she slowed, she paused, and Hotaru tried not to recognize the way her heart both ached and beat like hummingbird wings inside her chest. You love Thranduil, she agonized, and didn't let herself ponder why she had to tell herself that in this moment.
But if he did pursue her...if he cared enough to come, then...she turned and faced him. Her muzzle still stupidly painted, clasped between the hugging branches of the evergreens, more child than queen.
"You should return to them. It was your orchestration after all," she pointed out, trying to maintain her regal and detached air, trying not to notice the quiver of her voice that was far too prominent to make her words believable. And she prayed he would have mercy on her.
From the moment that Hotaru had pressed her painted nose to his breast he had felt something, a strange and mixed up feeling that burned like jealousy and regret, like want and guilt all at once. He followed her like a creature that survived on instinct, with his nostrils flared and his black eyes wide. Out here in the cold, descending day he wanted nothing more but to speak to her.
Or maybe something else, maybe something warmer. Whatever it was, Ashamin needed to be near her. The sight of her running off into the distance sent him doing the same; he could not let her escape him again.
Given his training, she was not difficult to keep up with. Ashamin found himself slowing to give her space and letting his sturdy legs shorten their stride. The painted buck would find the lady when she wanted to be found, and let her choose when they should meet again. He would run until she needed him, run until she wanted to turn, to look, to maybe say the words that he wanted to hear. That was the truth of it, painful but inescapable: Ashamin would never stop chasing her love.
His companions reach her before he does, the both of them circling the scene in wide and curious arcs. Rakt makes small, murmur like lows to issue forth a call of discontent; the smaller cerndyr cares little for the drama of the lord and the seer, and would rather return to his painting. But Lochan understands, perhaps because of his age or perhaps because of the deep well of his empathy. Lochan has seen the relationship between these two turn from formality to confession. He, even he, understands the signs of desire.
The moment of silence that hangs between them is thorny and tangible. The words from her lips, when finally spoken, are another insistence he must ignore. "They've moved on, they don't need me there anymore. I brought them together, that was all I needed to do to make them realize how much they could learn from each other," Ashamin answered, his ears flicking back as it occurred to him how simply his "job" was. Was he anything more than a glorified host?
But it was true, they didn't need him--not like he hoped Hotaru did. Cautiously, the painted buck stepped forward on long and thickened legs. "But I needed to talk to you, or to at least have you listen. There are things..." his voice trailed and he looked down, his eyes trained on her delicate hocks. Softly, the marking she had painted upon him began to glow. For now, the change was barely perceptible, perhaps passed off as a trick of the light. In time, it would grow. "...there are things I need you to understand, Hotaru." About me, he thought. About us, he knew but could not yet understand.
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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Maybe she must admit to herself that she does not know Ashamin as well as she had thought, or perhaps he'd simply been changing, subtle but insistent, while she had not been looking. A part of her had been hoping for the meek, submissive soul he'd once been, the one that would have let her run and escape him, because she wasn't ready for these looming feelings and what they symbolized. In fact she had not anticipated him tracking her down at all, though perhaps she did not give him enough due credit. Maybe she was just clinging to the last dredges of hope that she could get away from this confrontation and live in merciful ignorance a little longer.
The sound of his hooves seems to ratchet up her heartbeat, breath coming in short, helpless gasps even though she does not tire. Alice whines softly where she circles uncertainly in the grove of evergreens, wanting to help but not entirely sure how. She understands Hotaru's conflicted emotions, but she has never loved anyone other than the rosen girl, and does not know how to advise her on such matters of the heart. But Hotaru rejects it violently, because she can't admit that this is in any way relevant to her heart, to the burnt-out husk sitting uselessly in her chest. Ashamin's clean, gentle hands did not deserve to be stained with the ashes of her once-love. Why he would seek it out - he isn't, don't be stupid, that's not what this is, calm down - when it was so useless? Why did he not return to Rexanna with her gold-dipped everything? He deserved better, and that was the only reason she turned around. Because she had to convince him of that before he signed on the dotted line and sold away his life and love to someone like her.
His words seem odd to her when he responds to her pitiful attempt at keeping him away, because she knows she's avoiding the topic just as surely as he is. Her eyes flicker hesitantly between the dark of his muzzle and the dark of his eyes, hooves shifting restless and demure. He makes her shy, and he is so completely different from Thranduil that she is left scrambling and drowning, not knowing how to fight against this current when she has no experience with it. He strides toward her, tentative in his approach but sure in his movements. Her heart jolts and her skin is trembling, breath held captive in her throat as he bears down upon her. She knows she should back up accordingly, keep the space between them, but she can't. Her legs won't obey her, and a part of her wants him to come closer. Wants him to take this power away from her, but not rip it from her hands as everyone else does. She wants to place her entire being within his hands, wants him to move her, embrace and caress her with that gentleness that had first drawn her to him. Hotaru knows that he is as much man as any other, but sometimes she forgets. She remembers now, as he murmurs in his deep voice, the void of his eyes drawing her in. Maybe he could take care of her, maybe she could trust him to.
But she can't, she can't fall to the soft throaty rasp of his voice. She can't be seduced by the gentle way he treats her, because she's not precious, she's not something to be held so delicately. She doesn't deserve it, nor does she deserve his soft, urgent stories or the warmth of his skin in the middle of the night when she hides from the world. Her head begins to swing back and forth, a denial of what he's working himself up to say. "Ashamin," she whispers, and is both ashamed and petrified by how her voice breaks loud and clear on his name. Hotaru's slim ears dance nervously atop her crown, flickering back only to helplessly prick forward to catch his words. She wants to run, embrace her cowardice and leave him to the beginnings of...of whatever this is, because she can't let herself be deluded even for a second into thinking this is anything like a confession.
"No," she moans like she's dying, and she is ashamed that her eyes are beginning to swim with a thin film of tears that do not fall but cling like diamonds to her eyelashes and strike rainbows across her vision. "You don't know what you're saying," she urges, faltering a few steps back. Hotaru doesn't want to sound presumptuous, doesn't want to pretend like she knows what he's going to say. He's not, he's not, he can't. But she has to stop it anyways. "We...we can talk about this later, right?" Hotaru tries to force her voice into lightheartedness, as if labeling whatever he intends to say as simplistic. Something that can be said in any moment, not something of great magnitude. And she hates herself for how badly she wants to fetch up against his chest. (When did you grow so strong, Ashamin?) She hates how even as she tries to deny him and redirect him, all she can imagine is falling into him, letting him touch and love comfort her.
But Hotaru does not let those desires take root long enough to come to fruition. Even still she is left standing, knees shaking and skin trembling, with the force of her wanting.
With his gaze locked on Hotaru's hocks, he saw every delicate shift of her hooves. He saw her shy maneuvers and they drew his eyes up. Black pits, painted with an indelicate sheen, looked over her with something Ashamin didn't recognize. Was it anger? Was it sorrow? Was it need?
Even though the haruspex wasn't surprised that Hotaru resisted him, he felt his heart skitter with impatience regardless. His head shook, quicker than hers, and he stepped closer to her insistently. "No, Hotaru," he said, denying his own lack of knowledge, "you don't know what I'm saying. Which is why I need you to listen."
The painted buck moved closer to his lady. On the outskirts his companions stilled, ceasing their circle and leaving delicate tracks in the frost.
"Hotaru. I told you about the bird, didn't I?" He asked the question needlessly, and snorted as soon as he finished. "No, why ask? I know I did. I've never told anyone about it but you," he said with an ache in his heart, a dull fire in his chest that burned so much it threatened to extend outwards, to light up, to glow.
Threatened so much that within moments it did.
"That story belonged to my father. I cannot tell you if it is true, but..." again Ashamin found his throat catching, just as it had when he had first told Hotaru the tale "...I choose to believe it. I really do. And maybe that makes me a fool, or a romantic, or--"
The haruspex stopped, finding himself unable to speak. His chest began to glow softly, but not with enough strength for him to see. He took another step, he extended his neck. Ashamin felt his eyes roll as he reached for the comfort of Hotaru--the comfort of his great goddess the bird.
"I want to be the mountain that cradles you. And I know it's not my place, that you're a queen and I'm only a stargazer, but the mountains rose to greet the first snowfall, and..." Words, for the first time in so long, failed him completely. How could he explain to her how deeply he felt? Ashamin's chest burned and glowed--his magic crackled, showing electric veins in his heart where a manifestation threatened to appear.
Show, Lochan said softly in their bond. Ashamin looked down to see the glowing of his chest, to hear the electric sparking of his power. He didn't have time or the clarity of mind to wonder about the magical marking Hotaru had given him. Lochan was right; Ashamin just had to show her what he saw.
The haruspex stepped away, dragging his face from her shoulder if she had allowed him to touch it. His eyes shut and his magic reached for the mare, pulling from the heart in her chest the beauty that the painted buck saw. Within moments it appeared, an electric vision: the bird in the sky, the mythical swan-like beauty that had fallen and made the earth move.
"Please" he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. His own heart, something so lost that it had no form, surrounded the bird in an embrace of spark as he spoke. "I need you to see what I see. Please... don't be afraid to fall."
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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04-03-2016, 11:47 PM (This post was last modified: 04-04-2016, 03:00 AM by Hotaru.)
She tries, valiantly, to recall her own strength of character. She has manipulated and broken men far stronger than the likes of Ashamin - had she not told him that, in the flickering light of his cavern? That she held no remorse for the destruction that lay in her wake? She who held monopoly over the hearts and loins of lesser creatures, twisting them cruelly to align with her own motives? Hotaru had never let them influence her, for the moment she did, she no longer held the power. Even Thranduil, in all their perfectly matched, sadistic equality, could not sway her far. Until Ashamin, he had been the only one to throw himself against the cracking facade she held, intent on finding and utilizing her weaknesses. But through the shadows Ashamin had sidled close, intoxicating her with his gentle nature, his unassuming, trustworthy countenance. Hotaru had never learned to shield her heart from the likes of love. What little she knew of it was dead and dust - unattainable. Mere memories, like a glimpse of a ghost or a faint scent that reminds you of something better. Something lost.
She has broken so many souls, has dug her pretty hands into the gaping caverns of lonely chests to sink her nails into the yielding flesh of a thousand aching hearts. But maybe she was wrong in proclaiming that she had mastered stallions far greater than Ashamin. Maybe all along he had been far better than they, with their simplistic desires and disgustingly plain motivations. Because no matter how she tries to lift her chin, to reclaim power over the situation, she can't. In fact she feels quite feral, backed into this corner he has built just for her. A trapped animal waiting to lash out and injure in her own desperation. Because she cannot grasp that thread of power, where it lingers beyond her reach. Hotaru is nothing but another mare in his eyes, and she cannot sway him. She cannot save herself from this.
Do you want to? Alice's voice comes softly as Ashamin steps forward, crowding her, sending her stumbling further back into the snow. The deer and the hound circle ever on, her own sister trapping her in this situation. It's a betrayal she cannot focus on, not with the intensity of Ashamin's dark eyes, the insistent press of his body closer to hers that she tries to counter with her own pitiful retreat. The Queen hates herself deeply, intensely. She loathes her own cowardice. How is she any better, in this moment, than those she has conquered in the past? A weak, pitiful creature. A slave to her own heart, an organ dedicated to misleading those who could be great.
His words are like background noise, except she cannot help but listen even as her thoughts spiral into depths she cannot fathom. As if the idea of ignoring him is preposterous.
At first Hotaru can still fool herself, pretend he is merely trying to coach her divergent morality. Reaching out to her on common ground, the story she clutched ridiculously to her heart even after all this time. The great, beautiful bird that haunted her dreams when it had no right to. It reminded her of Phaedra, of Stella. Perhaps, if she was feeling particularly hopeful that evening, maybe even a little of herself.
But then he's stepping closer and reaching out for her, and her skin shivers but she's frozen, trembling all over like some delicate maiden. I'm not, I'm not, don't take this from me! But her lips won't move to give birth to her begging. She's not sure whether it's a blessing. Because Hotaru knows. She knows that if she lets him see through her, a rosen glass casting subdued light over all he sees, that she will lose everything. Her power will be nonexistent. She will always have an Achilles heel, a glaring weakness for others to exploit. Love is life's greatest disease. It is the lie, the illusion, that culls and controls the weak masses.
Yet even as her mind is screaming in abject refusal of this impending proclamation, the Lady does not move. His breath is warm, a contrast against the cold fear leeching at her bones, the cold snow against her ankles. She bears his touch like a weight upon her shoulders, and yet leans into it like it's a sweet drug and she a mere lowly addict. He is a study in contrasts in application to herself. But what does it reveal about her own dual nature, to be reacting so passionately? It's unbearably intimate, the touch of his lips behind the crook of her jaw, the warm caress that flutters up against the edges of her ear, and she whimpers softly. It's inherently sexual and yet not. If he were that type of man perhaps she would not be here in this moment, so deeply controlled by the presence of his untainted emotions.
"I want to be the mountain that cradles you. And I know it's not my place, that you're a queen and I'm only a stargazer, but the mountains rose to greet the first snowfall, and..."
The soft, agonized moaning spills from her mouth once more in denial. There is no denying Ashamin's intent now, no escaping through averted eyes and the common agreement to forget that anything potentially happened. "Ashamin," she whispers, because where words will fail her, he never has. And the truth must surely lie within his name, this title she has shouted, whispered, laughed. Hotaru has expressed more emotion through the medium of his name, his mere existence, than most souls have ever seen her display in their lives.
Until he's stepping away from her, and the ashen remains of her heart lurch, sending one hoof skittering rebelliously forward as if to follow him. But two differently painted eyes fall to his chest, this canvas he paints upon with the currents of her heart, the electricity he utilizes to show her what he means. He doesn't need to - the image has been part of her dreams ever since he spoke the words to her from across a crackling fire. Nothing more than two acquaintances, a Queen and her underling. How did we come so far? But Hotaru watches, enraptured, nonetheless. Sees the beautiful bird spinning, falling, her death as poetically profound as it is grievous and sorrowful. Remembers the rest of the tale on her own. The first snowfall, the tears of loss that nobody could explain. The way the earth moved to cradle the remains of her pure existence. Brought into being by her life and will alone. Standing in testament to her until the earth itself broke apart - the most loyal kind of love.
Is that what he is offering her?
And she realizes, as the electric currents of her own heart show the last moments of the gorgeous bird, that he sees her in that magnificent creature. When even she found herself unworthy in the nighttime hours where she contemplated her connection to the tale, he saw only the grandeur they both shared. Her tear stings her cheek as it falls, because she doesn't deserve this kind of respect. This kind of love, damn it, because that is what he's offering her.
He pleads with her, a broken murmur of sound, but she cannot look away as his heart's currents embrace her own. It's easier than gazing into his eyes, where she will have to face the rawness of his devotion. Devotion she shouldn't have earned. He is too pure for her.
"I'll ruin you," she choked, because she had surely warned him before. Why didn't you listen back then? "Ashamin, I -" it hurt to speak past the lump in her throat. She wrenched her eyes up to his, her heart surely stuttering hard enough to ruin this beautiful image he has made for her. "I can't do that to you," she urged, manic in her fear of what lay beyond this encounter. I can watch them all burn, but not you. Never you. "I love you," she croaks, and it burns to be the first to say it. No matter how heavily he implied it, she would always be haunted by the fact that she broke first. That this weakness was hers to carry. "I love you and I can't let myself ruin you." It was a refusal, one she hated to utter. If only I was pure, if only I was whole, if only, if only, if only. But she wasn't. She was made for the likes of Thranduil. Her heart was destined to belong with him, to tear each other apart in their possessive, unkind love for one another. She wasn't allowed this kind of deviation from fate. She could not pretend that accepting this beautiful love would lead to anything more than heartbreak and ruin for the gentle stag. And she could not bear that kind of end for him - a demise orchestrated by her own fatal love.
Hotaru loved him so much that she refused to love him at all.
04-23-2016, 12:46 PM (This post was last modified: 04-23-2016, 01:52 PM by Jen.)
The Painted Buck
He could barely make out her face through the electricity.
It almost burned him even though it was harmless, a bright wide beautiful arc that he could witness. Extensions of their beings made manifest. That organ, that beating drum in the chest, had a soul. If Ashamin believed in anything it was that. Souls. Love. Something mixed up in between that was maybe hate or maybe just a lack of control.
Perhaps Ashamin the haruspex simply had too much love for this world. Perhaps Hotaru was right, perhaps he really was pure. But when she spoke, when the bird he had created turned into nothing but faint sparks scattering across the snow and his own heart ate itself up in between them, he wasn't really sure.
Because if Ashamin could feel anything other than love it was anger. Maybe he didn't know it yet but he would enough soon. He was not pure. He could be broken, but it wouldn't be by love. That was a burden he would always have the strength to carry; even if love kicked and bit, struck his spine like a comet without resistance, Ashamin would carry it home.
So who was Hotaru to turn him away? Who was she to say what he could and could not do?
His heart is sucked back up inside of him like the worst kind of black hole and all he can do is stare. Stand watching her like some empty eyed fool with those coal pits and that glowing, burning chest of his. Would he ever be free? No, perhaps not. Not for as long as all those that he loved lived on this earth, and perhaps not even after.
Lochan stepped closer to his bonded, pressing his side to Ashamin's, as if in comfort. As if the haruspex had failed. But no, there was no way Ashamin would consider this the end. Hotaru couldn't just walk away, at least not for a reason as poorly founded as that. Was it an excuse, something to get him to leave when she really just didn't care for him? Maybe. Maybe. But Ashamin didn't want to belive that she would really just take advantage of him like that, use him up as a sounding board and then leave him dry the minute he had something real that he wanted to say to her. Something important like this... he couldn't keep his mouth shut this time. He couldn't just nod and smile. He couldn't turn around and pretend he didn't care.
"Maybe you're right, maybe you'll ruin me, that's your choice. But you can't decide whether or not I get to take that risk, Hotaru." he said with a step forward, extinguishing a spark left on the ground with his hoof absentmindedly. She wasn't in control right now. She couldn't micromanage her whole life until there was no one left in it but her and that hellhound. He moved closer, trying to part the space between them, to touch, to press his warmth against hers in this cold, cold world. Was he really so deluded, had he really read her so wrong? Did she really not feel the same? Then why had she moaned like that, why had she looked so sad to turn him away? What had she told him she loved him, something even he didn't yet have the confidence to say without her acceptance?
"Do your worst," Ashamin said, inviting her with another step, another breath, another sound beat of his heart.
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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04-24-2016, 06:13 PM (This post was last modified: 04-24-2016, 06:14 PM by Hotaru.)
Why did he remain? After all of this, after seeing her icy guise melt beneath the sincerity of his affection, why did he still stay by her side? He knew, or had at least glimpsed, every broken, sordid part of her. There was nothing left to entice him with, no lie or fantasy she could concoct that he would not see through. In baring herself to him, she had removed any potential appeal. The mask was where it all lay; the beauty, the mischief, the power and control. The haunted shards that gave voice to the mask were worth less than nothing. The girl from the Foothills could never have become a queen. Hotaru had created herself from nothing, she knew how much she was worth.
It wasn't this.
It wasn't dark eyes and black voids of pain and suffering that she had enabled. It wasn't a quiet place to rest and a crackling fire. It wasn't a love so selfless that she couldn't stand to harm him. She, who had conquered every soul through sheer, stubborn desire and a tongue as sharp as her wit. Standing across from Thranduil, oozing blackness as she crumbled before him, she had wondered what the love between her parents had been like. She had never known a love like theirs, the tale she'd rehearsed from her mother's lips. A love to leave loved ones for. A love to move mountains and cross oceans for. A love to change the fundamental structures of your very existence. A love to make history. Tolio and Phaedra would live forever in the intertwined trunks of the trees where they had given their lives for one another.
She had looked up at Thranduil and she had wondered - is this the same love? Hotaru would never be able to atone for the mistakes she'd made in regards to her family, to her mother. But she could live her life trying to make Phaedra proud. And so she gazed upon the Clovenheart and she tried to imagine what Phaedra would say if she were standing there beside her. If Hotaru had ever had the chance to introduce her to the two stallions playing tug-of-war with her heart, who would Phaedra tell her to pursue? Tolio had surely never been the stallion everyone suspected Phaedra would end up with. In fact he was likely the very last candidate on the ballot. So why, why had Phaedra given everything for a man like that? What had she seen in Hotaru's father?
He had called her angel. She remembered that much. He had doted upon her even as he broke her heart, the call of his people too strong against the love he had for her. He had burst into the Foothills, a hellion returned from the lands outside Helovia, to drag his angel from the skies to join him in the ash-streaked lands of purgatory. It reminded her of Thranduil, the beast her father had become, the one she'd known growing up. But in the beginning...her eyes drift to Ashamin.
Regardless of how Tolio had changed, his love for Phaedra transcended the darkness of his soul. My angel. And maybe Hotaru wasn't worthy of a title as profound as that but...
Even the most powerful and quick-witted of queens can fall in love. And they can deserve it.
She was allowed to want this. They could ruin each other, but she couldn't let the fear of the what if's keep her tied. Mother give me strength to love like you did. With that last begging prayer, the most sincere she'd ever concocted, she let one trembling leg move forward. He moved to meet her, a quiet challenge - a plea - playing on those soft vocals that burned through her body like whiskey on a cold night. She let him press close, let the heat of his body scorch her until her insecurities lay in ashes between them. Hotaru lifted her face to bite gently at the crook of his jaw and tried to ignore the way her lips trembled with fear. What about Thranduil? Her mind couldn't help but hiss.
Alice cut sharply across their connection, words like flashing fangs in defense of her beloved. Thranduil is not here. Ashamin has always been here. Never mean. Never hurt. Whether that would remain true through the seasons...Hotaru had no way of knowing.
"Okay," she whispered for his ears alone. There was no hiding the shadows of fear and nerves that were painted plainly across her pretty face when she turned to try and catch his eye. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is the knowledge that there is something more important than that fear. "You have me," her voice hiccuped, not sorrowful but tentative. For once letting him take the reins, handing them over with her own shaking hands, transferring the power to someone else for the first time in her life. "Will you love me?" Do you love me? Her mind howled treacherously, but Hotaru steadfastly ignored it. Love was not possession. Love was not hurt and the collision of two powerful forces. Maybe this was love. Her mother had never told her of the nights crying, the weakness she'd encountered that came alongside her love for Hotaru's father. This was all Hotaru knew. Ashamin had to teach her the rest.
05-25-2016, 09:03 AM (This post was last modified: 05-25-2016, 09:03 AM by Ashamin.)
The Painted Buck
As the space between the haruspex and his hesitant lover disappeared, the rest of the world fell away. Above him, the sky expanded into a wide display of the cosmos. He shut his eyes and saw stars behind his lids, bright and unending. He opened them and saw Hotaru's pale and freckled form, pressing into his with heady intent. He did not turn away as her teeth gripped his cheeks--did not return the gesture. The stallion only tucked his nose to his chin and pressed his long, arching nose and mangled horn to fit into the gentle slope of her spine. She bore the topline of a mountain that had formed at the dawn of time. Hotaru didn't know it, didn't know all that she could carry, but she was strong.
Ashamin would show her just how strong she was. Her words faded into the cold around them as if they'd been spoken on the wind but he still caught them, cradled them, in the little soft folds of his ears. It wasn't a question as to whether he loved her. It might not have been a question as to whether or not she loved him. Ashamin knew that it mattered, he was not so low a beast to succumb purely to lust, but he also didn't feel as though it needed to be spoken. Wasn't it implicit? Their love, a tacit agreement like religion.
Maybe it should have given him pause that she needed reassurance; maybe he should have stepped away. Perhaps he should have even felt hurt. Ashamin, though, had not yet learned to value himself as much as he should of. Still growing, he spoke as a boy mere steps away from learning what it was to be a man. So no, he did not need assurance of their love. But if Hotaru did, if his bird in the sky needed to hear... Ashamin would do anything for her, then.
"Hotaru, I already do." came his whispered reply, spoken to her back as he trailed his nose along it, as he blessed her with tender kisses.
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
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