"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.
She had followed the Halcyon Flats almost to the Heart Caves, soaring aimlessly along the shore without really realizing where she was headed. Astraeus flew nearby. A comfortable silence stretched between the pair. Sohalia had finally found some semblance of peace, and her zephyr's worry about her had lessened. It was almost as though recent events, paired with a morning of clear skies and effortless wind-sailing, had pushed away the bad times and the painful experiences, leaving the pair fresh and new. There were still lingering doubts, of course - there always would be - but for the first time in a while, the Transcended and her companion were happy to simply be alive.
Sohalia had left Aleta under the care of her father; knowing that the girl would be safe allowed the mare a tranquility that she had never had before as a new mother. For all of her children, she had been primarily responsible for their care. She had never questioned it, really - not until Kaj, anyway. Why should the father do anything for a newborn? And yet the Aurelight did, hovering constantly and offering his assistance as often as he could. He had given her today a chance to stretch her wings, an unprecedented 'day off,' if you will - one of few days that were truly hers to enjoy, especially of late.
The mare had slimmed quickly after Aleta's birth, losing much of her pregnancy weight as a result of the hardships of Frostfall. It had been a mere few weeks, but already she was back to her old size and shape, a petite mare with little extra fat on her body. She was pristine today, glowing in the sunlight, a soft smile on her face as she soared; she had been taking proper care of herself again, darting through a waterfall to clean the dust from her pelt and preening her wings to settle each and every feather into place. She was lovely, perhaps the healthiest and happiest she had been in a while. And she owed it all to Kaj.
Or did she? Perhaps it was herself she ought to be thanking - after all, Kaj may have helped her along the way, but she had made the changes, had solicited a change in her own life.
She was getting too close to the Dragon's Throat, and though a part of her missed the desert sands, she was loathe to complicate what had become a pleasant life. She tilter her wings upward, catching more wind underneath and slowing her trajectory. She was unable to halt completely in midair, but she did manage to give herself a moment's pause. With one last look of longing toward the warm sands, she began to bank to the left, gliding out over the ocean's waters as she turned to head for home.
In all honesty, Sohalia rarely crossed his mind anymore. And why should she? Oh, her presence drifted through his thoughts occasionally, when he looked in upon the plethora of children they had created together, but that was only as sort of passing nod. She was a ghost to him, figuratively and, he figured, literally. She had been gone for seasons now, years. He was sure that she had died, for endless searching - both inside of Helovia and out - had revealed no trace of her.
She had left him, their home, their children, seemingly without a word. It wasn't the first time, but there was a slow drawn-out finality in it, it had seemed to him. Indeed, whenever he searched for her, he had expected to find nothing. It hadn't ever felt like that before - before, he was always so sure that she would return.
He didn't feel that way now.
Gliding through the Flats, Gaucho allowed his dusky blue-gray gaze to survey the area below. The dun felt a sort of kinship to this land, a protectiveness stemmed from the first Riftian battle here. He often found himself here, wandering through the reflective expanses, keeping an eye out for invisible monsters and the like. Today, he was just sort of drifting. Unlike Sohalia this was not the happiest that he had ever been. Ampere was ... as explosive as ever, but seemed deftly distant as of late. Mesec had turned into a monster and attacked his family, and his two latest additions - Tae and Grusha - had a penchant for getting themselves into enormous amounts of trouble. He didn't necessarily mind it, but Ampere did, which meant part of that responsibility fell back to him. The weariness of his long years as a Sultan had worn into him steadily, like waves crashing onto and slowly wearing down granite.
Nothing held any electricity for him anymore. There were no battles he feared losing, no children who needed him anymore. Not even any lovers within whose company he could lose himself. He had been, in his own way, entirely faithful to both Ampere and Sohalia during his time with them, and despite the oddness of his monogamy, they had both fulfilled him. Well. Until lately. But, like all bodily indulgences, the long-standing warrior had long ago learned to tide most of his cravings.
It just left him feeling weary, and tired.
A million listless and unimportant thoughts might have flowed through his mind, but all were halted. The trajectory of his body, his thoughts, and potentially his future halted when he saw her.
It couldn't be, and yet he knew that his eyes did not deceive him. Likewise, both Mara and Vorsa confirmed the sight of The Transcended. For a moment he was dumb struck.
Soh alive? He thought, his lips pursed together. When she had come back last time ... she had lingered in the Falls to heal herself. Was that where she was heading now? Where she had been? But-
no
He thought immediately, cutting off that line of thinking. If she had been in the Falls, Kaj would have told him. And, if she was out flying, she would already have been well enough to travel back to the Throat.
That only left one possibility, in the dun's mind: she had just come back.
"Soh-" His voice reached out towards her, as his mammoth body swung in the air to intersect her trajectory. There was hesitation, a sort of upward scoop in his rich vocals that indicated uncertainty, as if he was half expecting her to turn and turn out to be someone else entirely. But a much larger part of him knew that it was indeed her, and that when she turned, he would be greeted with her bi-coloured sea gaze, her delightful and serene features. Her smile.
Gaucho's heart ached painfully as he waited for her to turn towards him, years-long expectation and missing-her and love suddenly bursting to be set free inside of some hidden and chained box in his soul.
One of these days, she would realize that life would always find a way to surprise her - then, perhaps, she would no longer be shocked when her long-dead ghosts returned to life. She was turning on the breeze, listening to the seagulls that never seemed to leave the ocean calling to one another in the chilled air, watching the waves crash along the shoreline below, slowly and carefully chipping away at the landscape -- and then she saw him. Suddenly, she felt very much like the sands of the beach, eroding away beneath what she imagined, from a distance, to be a withering gaze. Why had she ever come this far? Why had she not thought to turn back sooner, to leave him in his peace with his new mate and his new children and his new life, all without her, without the drama and the complications that she always managed to bring to him?
But it was too late now, and she was metaphorically falling, brought back suddenly to the first time they had met: she had been flying, much like this, and then she had just tucked her wings, dove for the ground, wondering what would happen if she accidentally forgot to flare her feathered appendages and save herself from the crushing oblivion of death. He had saved her then -- how had she forgotten -- but there would be no saving either of them now, not this time. Not when so much had passed, not when so much of their life was already over, not when she had betrayed him (not on purpose, of course, but even so) time and again. She did not deserve his love, or whatever pieces of himself he had chosen to give her, and yet he had done it anyway. And she had disappeared.
For all either of them knew, she might have died. And now she was back from the dead, rising from the cascading waves below to haunt him in his exhaustion. Except that she was real, and he was real, and they were flying toward one another, and it was a dream, it had to be -- there was no reality in which he would greet her with such warmth, or some semblance of it, as though it were only yesterday that she had appeared before him last. She was suddenly glad for the bath she had taken, pleased with her flight along the seashore, hoping that it would mask the smell of the Falls on her. The last thing they needed was an angry Sultan at their doorstep. And she could only assume that he would be angry.
"Gaucho," she breathed, a whisper, a prayer, a slight smile worming its way onto her face without her permission. How could she not give him that, when they had shared so much of the life that they had led together? The weight of her actions, so freeing moments before, turned to a cold stone of guilt in her stomach; she could not regret her tryst with Kaj, the birth of Aleta, but oh how she longed for things to go back to being easy. Once, she had been Gaucho's queen - now, she was nothing, no one, not even supposed to be here. She had almost reached him by then, was within a few lengths from him, and without thinking she began to spiral toward the sands, inviting him down with a quick fluttering of her lashes, a flash of a smile, all a memory coming to the surface of the face of a ghost.
No, that was too far off. It wasn't that he was too tired to be angry, although it was something like that. Unlike the thoughts racing through Sohalia's mind, Gaucho was thinking of the opposite. For him, Sohalia was the one who represented a simpler time, when things were easy. Seeing her now, reminded him of that, as opposed to the mess of confusion and drama that he represented for her. He too thought of the first time that they met, of Zenobia's birth. He remembered fighting Note and publicly declaring his love for the mare. How she had been is one and true Kahleesi. More children after that - easy conversations and walks through the Throat. Sohalia's tempered advice, given softly but sternly. She stood in such stark contrast to Ampere ... and perhaps that's what made it easy for him to love them both. Neither could possibly tread where the other had stood, and each represented something so different to him...
Besides, disappearing was something that, rather guiltily, he had considered before. He could never actually abandon the Throat, but the idea of unshackling himself from this sandy and bloody world of responsibility was such an inviting thought - one that perhaps only Sohalia would understand, for surely Ampere wouldn't (he wrongfully assumed).
And as soon as she turned towards him, anything that might have grown into anger was immediately drowned out by the roar of her beauty, the serenity of her gaze. The small unbidden smile on her muzzle coaxed one from him as well, and he was glad when she began to descended, so that, he could view her from the other side as well. That, and so that they could stand and properly talk, rather than trying to fit the entirety of what would surely be a rather bizarre conversation, between mouthfuls of air and wingbeats.
Trailing behind her, the Wildfire landed with a soft thud in the sands. For the first time in a long while, Gaucho actually tucked his wings neatly against his flanks, arched his neck ever so slightly, and stood squarely. He wasn't trying to impress her or show off ... but then again, maybe he was. He was no idiot, obviously there stood a gulf between them - obviously she had left and in her years of being away and un-dead, she had decided not to come back. Something had happened. Even so, a part of him, not as hidden away as he might have thought it was, wanted her to want to cross the invisible barrier that pushed them apart, even if no part of her actually could.
But what was he even thinking?
He had to shake himself to stop thoughts of reaching forward and touching her, of spreading his wings across her back, of helping her and casually falling into their old banter. Indeed, his fought to keep his gaze level, fixed only on hers rather than letting it droop to discover the ways in which her body might have changed. A body he knew so well, but wanted to discover anew. He failed in this, a few times, and quickly forced his eyes to raise.
"Soh ... healthy?" She hadn't been when she had returned to him before. And, still assuming that she was just returning, thought she might need aid. "Gaucho can heal now." He followed up, almost sounding awkward despite the fact that his speech had been steadily increasing, even if his vocabulary was lacking.
A small part of her wondered if he would follow or if he would simply fly on, recognizing that he was likely better off without her around to complicate things. Surely, in the time that she had been away - a long time, Ivezho had informed her when she had first returned - he had forgotten her. Or, if not that, then surely he had at least pushed her memory aside? Just as their son had informed her of her disappearance, so too had he told her of Gaucho's other progeny. There had been no mention of the mother, but of course she much have been loved, at least in some small way, by the stallion. The Transcended remembered when she had thought that Gaucho might not love her -- stupid, really, given all that he had shown her in their time together. It would only make sense that his affections would have turned to someone else, given that she had apparently been gone long enough to have been presumed dead.
She hadn't meant to leave him -- perhaps one day she would tell him that. But as his hooves thudded into the sand behind her, she realized that she was loathe to interrupt the uneasy calm between them, that if she apologized, made excuses, she would accomplish nothing except to push him away. He would not, she felt, be willing to forgive her for a reason that she could not explain, and she was not ready to lose him again, not now that she found herself standing before his bulk, guilty love bubbling in her heart. Not yet.
She turned, facing him, tucking her wings against her sides to unknowingly mirror him as she did so. She cocked her head to one side, as though to consider him in all of his glory as he stood squarely before her. It wasn't necessary -- she knew every line of his body, and that had never changed -- but she could hardly close the gap between them, could she? Despite her traitorous body's desires, despite her fervent wish that she had never left Helovia, despite every wandering thought that bade her approach him... she could not bring herself to take the first step, angry at herself and afraid of his rejection. If he hated her, she realized, she deserved it.
She opened her mouth to speak, and her words leaped into the air to combine with his in a jumble. "How are you?" she tried to ask, laughed softly, nervously, as their twin queries collided. She cast her eyes shyly to the ground. "Yes, I am healthy," she admitted cautiously, peering at him from beneath her lowered lashes. A pang stabbed through her heart as she realized that he spoke the common tongue; though she was glad to find that his speech had improved, proud to see that he had worked so hard to better himself for his herd, she had come to treat his native tongue as a secret language that only they shared. It was something that had brought them closer, that had marked her as his -- what did it mean, that now he elected to forego that bond in favor of something more distant?
"I -- that's wonderful, Gaucho. I wish I could." If should could heal, perhaps she would be able to sear away the chokehold that he had around her heart. She may have been with Kaj, but there had been no love there, no passion. They had needed one another, had bonded, had become important and irreplaceable pieces of one another's lives -- but this, the fluttering of her stomach, the way her heart leapt to her throat as she realized that Gaucho could not keep his gaze from wandering along the curves of her body -- this was what she had been craving, what she had always wanted. What she had given up.
"It's -- a lovely day for a flight, isn't it?" she asked awkwardly after a moment, hating the way her voice hitched. Why did he have this effect on her? Why did he make it so hard to think straight, even though she had no right to the feelings that had lain dormant within her for so long?
Fire had already begun to rise on his wings in response to his question. He had assumed the answer would have been yes - if she was just coming back to Helovia, then surely she would require some amount of healing. But her words abruptly halted the flames, and they died back down to their usual pulsing height on his wings.
Yes, I am healthy. Her praise at being able to heal fell upon ears which were too deaf to hear them - his mind was too occupied to really discern the sound. Inside of his mind, Mara tried to help piece his thoughts together for him. Ssssssoh leave. Ssssssshe not jussssst returning. Gaucho swallowed hard as he stared into the depths of her gaze, feeling himself drowning in more ways than one. He had already acknowledged that she had left - not just left, but left him. It was stupid to think that she would return to him, that the first thing she would do when she returned to Helovia was come back to him - or at least make her presence known. Fine, fine. He could stomach the thought that he wasn't at the top of her priority list but ... not even second? Third? What about her children? No one had reported having seen Sohalia, and he knew, just based on Rhoa's temperament, that had the boy seen his Mother after so long, Gaucho would know about it. If not from Rhoa reporting it, but from the stupidly absurd smile he would see plastered on the gray stallion's face. A smile, which had been on his own just seconds prior.
Ssssssshe does not want to sssssee you. Mara concluded, finalizing what Gaucho's mind was slowly coming around to concluding.
He missed the way she was looking at him - not that he might have been able to recognize it for what it was, even if he had been paying attention. Such things were always just out of his reach. It's -- a lovely day for a flight, isn't it? Her words pulled him back, but only just, and he visibly had to shake himself and reassert his gaze back to the present.
He looked around, letting his gaze fall flatly at the golden expanses, almost as if he were trying to confirm whether or not it was a lovely day. But then - partially thanks to the two female voices in his mind - he realized she wasn't talking about the weather at all. She was just filling the silence.
She had never had to do that before.
Gaucho dipped his antlered skull slightly in agreement, feeling something hard and ugly clenching in his throat. It was his happiness - the excitement he had felt at seeing her, the rush of adrenaline, of love and nostalgia. It was now burning and charring in his throat.
It took him a few moments to pull his gaze away from the mirror-like mirages of the Flats. When he did, his gaze was soft and sad, his features not quite so chiseled and hard, but droopy, somehow. As if his entire being was being pulled down by the weighty feeling in his heart.
He tried to think of some small morsel of small talk that he could offer her in response - after all, she could have flown away, but didn't. She had invited him to land, had initiated this small talk, but he didn't know how to follow. Exhaling a few almost frustrated breaths - like the starting of sentences that just drifted off into vapor, he finally turned just to look at her. He said nothing, though, just drank her in, as if this was to be the last time he saw her. And who knew? It probably was. She was back after all. Back, but not with him. Back, but not wanting to see him, it seemed.
But she landed. He thought defensively. Why would she do that?
"Soh-" He said at last, his lips husky and loving around the shape of her name as he whispered the word into the growing and screaming stillness between them.
Watching him wither was the hardest thing she had ever had to do.
She denied his healing, for she didn't need it -- she had never needed it, not this time. She saw the flames die on his wings, as though smothered by her refusal, as though somehow her health was denying him something else entirely. She was lost, confused, aching for some way to put her thoughts and feelings into words, some way to make him understand. She had never wanted to leave! She had never wanted any of this to happen! But it was useless: she could see his attention wandering, could see the way that the vague semblance of peace between them was drifting away, rolling out with the now-distant waves to be lost at sea.
Astraeus came then, landing protectively on her withers, looking the stallion and his two companions over with emotionless, slitted eyes. He had nothing to offer to his bonded; unlike Mara, he had no inkling of his bonded's former mate's intentions, no ideas to share or advice to give. Sohalia had never needed his assistance in piecing together the puzzle, only in remaining afloat after it had caused her to drown. All the zephyr could do was offer his love and adoration, his support as he began to feel her fall apart under the stallion's dull gaze. She felt responsible for him, for whatever had caused his fire to die out. She imagined that she had broken him, tainted his vivacity and left him to fill the void. She imagined that maybe he had felt the same way that she would have, had their positions been reversed. Astraeus leaned over to preen her mane gently, offering her comfort in the gentle silence that he brought.
Silence stretched, too, between the two pegasi, but this was an uncomfortable and awkward silence, one that the Transcended sought desperately to fill. She searched, fruitlessly, for anything to say, for anything to make it better -- her lips parted, but no words came out. She had no reassurances, nothing that she could offer him to make this better, to make anything easier. He wouldn't even look at her, and somehow that was worse than the gap slowly widening between them, pushing them further and further apart.
When he did look at her, it did little to settle her growing anxiety. There was something sad and lost in his gaze that nearly broke her heart, threatened to shatter her newly-repaired soul into a million tiny pieces. No, she wanted to whisper against his skin, to keep him from falling into the same despair that she had found herself in time and again. She had never wanted him, never meant to hurt him, and she was suddenly drowning in the possibility that she had done just that -- that he had not, in fact, moved on, but had only ever sought to fill her place in his heart. Hadn't she done the same thing?
Right or wrong, her thoughts were immediately halted by the caress of his voice. It had been so long since she had heard the shortened version of her name on his lips, so long since anything about her had been spoken with that kind of adoration -- pain twisted across her face, tears springing to her eyes. (Why did he always manage to make her cry? No, it wasn't his fault, it was hers, she was in tears because of her own mistakes and their effect on him.) "I'm sorry, okay?" Her voice burst forth of its own volition. "I just -- Ivezho told me -- you were supposed to be happier -- I didn't want to keep hurting you -- I thought it would be better -- I -- I --"
She was babbling, hysterical, barely managing to keep her tears in check. Though her cheeks her dry, her voice was alive with emotion, offering all of the pain and sadness that she had harbored for so long for him to see. She couldn't possibly make sense, trying as she was to tell him that she still loved him, she still missed him, she had tried to do what was best for him, that it had all been a mistake, that she hadn't even known that she had disappeared in the first place until it was all too late -- "I didn't know -- I thought -- new family -- Ivezho -- gone -- so long --" On and on it went. She couldn't stop, couldn't make herself just shut up. He couldn't possibly want to hear this, couldn't possibly forgive her, couldn't possibly want her --
He might have dwelt longer on her apology, had Ivezho's name not been immediately mentioned. So. Their son knew. Gaucho was no idiot, he'd always known that their first born son's had taken more of a liking to their mother, and Ivezho especially, since he had gone off with her for a time. But this? This felt like a betrayel on both fronts. He could understand Sohalia leaving, at least, he sort of could. But this deception from his own blood? Why wouldn't the boy say anything to him? Unless of course ...
-and there it was, that old familiar ache that now prickled between his ribs. She had told him not to. She had wanted to see her family again, just not Gaucho.
"-happier?" He interrupted with a mumble, repeating the word as if it was foreign to him. What did happiness have to do with any of it? Love and happiness were not synonymous - love did not imply happiness. Not that Sohalia hadn't made him happy ... not that Ampere did but .. His blank expression recoiled with his lack of understanding. She had left so that he would be happier? She was everything to him then. Why should her leaving make things better?
..new family.. So Ivezho had told Sohalia about that. Gaucho didn't looked ashamed, nor would he have hidden it from her had she outright asked. His family had grown, how could it not? The Wildfire had been blessed by the Sun God to give birth to hallowed offspring. With Sohalia gone, Gaucho couldn't be expected to waste such a gift, could he? For the glory of the Sun, and the Throat? Nor would he lie about his enjoyment in creating those lives, but that hardly seemed to matter. It was as if she was criticizing for continuing to lead the Throat in her absence, or continuing to train. It was who he was, and he had been loyal to Sohalia the duration of their time together. How long was he meant to wait for her?
Clearly, he wasn't meant to wait at all.
At the thought of that, the dun had to bite back on the words suddenly filling his mouth, demanding to know where it was she was living. She looked a little too well fed, given Frostfall, to be living as an outcast. The Basin wouldn't take her, and that left only the Edge or the Falls. If it were the latter, he was sure that Kaj would have told him. Then again, hadn't he taken in one of Elsa's daughters, the now-queen of the Edge? Certainly she owed him the information about Sohalia, if nothing else. But ... he had also taken in Archibald's daughter and his sons.
They all owed him, and he had heard nothing.
For a moment Gaucho's ears flickered backwards as the roster of those who had betrayed him in their knowledge of Sohalia grew. Peerhapsssss you are wrong Mara interrupted wisely. Sssshe is resssourceful.
Still, Gaucho could do nothing but stare at her. The longer he did, the more he noticed had changed. More lines on her face, the slight difference in the curves of her body - even the length of her mane and tail. The differences felt catastrophic, and he felt like a fool for thinking that he knew for - for even harboring the thought of reaching out and touching her.
There was no real word for I'm sorry in Gaucho's native tongue, and so he had no good way of responding. Instead, he merely shrugged his blue-striped shoulders and let his gaze roam out towards the ocean once again. What was there even to say, now? The last time Soh had returned, Gaucho had had to confess that he had murdered her daughter while under the control of the Moon Goddess. At least this time there hadn't been any deaths. Zenobia had come home - was that worth saying? And Rhoa ... well, he - they - were grandparents now.
Then again, he supposed that she likely knew all of that already, especially if she'd spoken to Ivezho. Perhaps she'd spoken to the lot of them.
Unlike Mara, Vorsa was entirely uncomfortable with the entire thing and wanted nothing more than for all of this to stop. She chirped a sound to Astraeus, something along the lines of >>they stupid<<, before leaving her perch in Gaucho's antlers and gliding, rather defiantly and pointedly, towards Soh's hooves, landing on the sands there. She trilled in a huff, and folded her bright orangey-red wings against her sides, taking care not to burn Soh's forelegs.
Gaucho could do nothing but stare at the bird. Part of him wanted to follow her lead, to barrel forward and leave Soh no choice but to embrace him. But another part of him - the part that fixed his hooves precisely where they were, were far too hurt now to move. He might have understood her leaving ... but to come back in secret? To meet with their children, and to say nothing? Not even to let him know that she was alive?
Gaucho's antlered skull shook slightly, still, no words leaving his lips. What was there to say?
Except one thing maybe. One question, too unfair to possibly give voice to.
But fuck it. The silence was far too deafening anyways.
"Soh..happy now?" He asked finally, his steel-blue gaze finally rising to seek out hers.
She should have known that he would not be able to understand her motivations for staying away, should have realized that the complexity of the situation would be lost on him. It was not that she thought him to be stupid; on the contrary, she knew him to be a remarkably intelligent stallion. He had never seemed to be particularly in tune with his -- no, her -- emotions, and she wondered now as she paused, breast heaving, words catching uselessly in her throat, if he had ever really understood her at all. Oh, he had loved her in his way, she knew that, but how had they gotten so far when their communication skills were so ridiculously atrocious that she could not even apologize properly without making things worse?
She swallowed her rambling, gritting her teeth and looking away, resentment growing from some small seed left in her heart from a time when she had been betrayed by him: he had murdered her firstborn, after all, and though she had forgiven him for it, she had certainly not forgotten. She blamed herself more than she blamed the WildFire, for if she had only been there, if she had only -- but there was no use in 'if only,' not anymore, not when it was so easy to let her anger at herself morph into something cold and bitter and directed at him.
"Happier?" Gaucho mumbled, and she might have shouted in him with frustration had her zephyr not dug his claws into her withers, advising her against rash words. No matter the wikiya's feelings about Gaucho, he had no desire to feel even more self-hatred through the bond later, when his gentle bonded would no doubt come to regret her words. Besides, the stallion's phoenix had taken it upon herself to flutter gracefully to the ground before the mare, gaining interest and approval from her electric cousin. Astraeus joined her, landing on the side closest to Gaucho. The lightning-bird huffed softly, chittering a response that was something akin to agreement, then stared pointedly at the Transcended as though to prove that yes, they could all get along, so stop freaking out.
The fight went out of the Transcended then, a heavy sigh releasing her negativity into the air to be dispersed. She looked, suddenly, tired, weary, as though she had been carrying the weight of the world upon her slender shoulders. In a way, perhaps, it was even true: she had carried nothing but guilt and self-loathing ever since she had realized that she had disappeared again, only to return to be informed by her son that her mate had moved on to have a family without her. It was not that she blamed him -- hell, why should he have just waited around for someone as unreliable and seemingly uncaring as she? -- but it had hurt all the same, even more so when she had decided to leave him to his family, to hope that maybe he would be better off that way.
So, was she happier? She had flown along the beach in high spirits, but the sight of her former mate had brought the illusion crashing down. Her bi-colored gaze searched his. "I... don't know," she admitted softly, defeated, allowing her eyes to shift to the waters surrounding them. A silence followed, uncomfortable and sad, seeming to stretch for hours as though to finalize their inevitable separation. "Gaucho --" she whispered, her voice breaking with the strain of all that she had done, all that they had endured. But they were broken now, weren't they, shattering here on the beach into a million sharp-edged pieces that would never be put back together.
Did she even want to fit into the puzzle anymore?
"I heard about the Rifts," she offered softly, seemingly at random. Her voice was odd, abnormal, monotonous, almost as though she had finally died inside, as though there was nothing left to fill the void. "I don't know if I got... caught in one, or..." She sighed, shaking her head. What did it matter? Why was she still trying to explain, to convince him of her innocence? "I would have come back, but... I didn't think that you would... want me anymore," she finished in a whisper, staring at the sand, ashamed. It sounded hollow even to her, a useless explanation that would, no doubt, get her nowhere. And really, where did she even want to go, at this point?
His body eased into it, even as his mind fought against it. The soundlessness of it seemed to stretch on forever, and it was as if his body was threatening to atrophy in the silence. He couldn't read her body, not the way that he used to. Or perhaps she had simply forgot him, and fallen into a speech that he couldn't understand. Oh, that's right, you don't speak french.. her curves might have boastfully and haughtily insisted, as if he were some sewer-rat come to demand her attention. Or, perhaps it wasn't as thoughtful as that at all. Perhaps it was simply--
sssshe has moved onnn, whispered Mara with her continued skepticism. Unlike Vorsa, the snake refused to move from her position. Youuuu are like that rossssse. Ssssssomthing from her passsssssst.
In that moment as Mara slithered and hissed in his mind, Gaucho knew two things.
#1 Mara was right. Gaucho was some long forgotten trinket of a time that had passed. He was a back then, and a remember when. He was her past, encased in a shimmering tomb of crystal. The thought of the two of them together might have looked good from this vantage point, but once you got up close, you saw that the thing you wanted was actually dead and inaccessible.
but ..
#2 He didn't care.
He stepped forward.
Every ounce of his body screamed that he didn't care. She was saying something about happiness .. then the rifts, and then..
His mind, briefly, moved to Ampere. Where had she even gone? He hadn't seen her in weeks, and when he had, she had been chasing after Mesec. The girls hadn't seen her, Zero hadn't ...
Blue faded to black and then to white.
Blue eyes faded to green and a sea-sparkle blue.
Black mane faded to white.
His mind blurred his thoughts. His wings raised slightly.
He just didn't care anymore. Social tact? The politics he had learned? The distance he felt between them? Nah. He was the Wildfire, Sultan of the Dragon's Throat, Kahl of the Sands and chosen Ascended of the Sun God himself. But more than that, he was Gaucho, and she was Sohalia.
They were inches apart now and heat rose not from the hot sun that surrounded them, but from within his body. The fire on his wings rose higher slightly, and Vorsa had to scramble towards Astraeus to avoid the bits of salty sand being thrown her way. She might have hooted her anger were it not for the fact that she could clearly peer into his mind. The zephyr trilled lightly at her older cousin and hopped on the hot sand, moving a few feet away.
"Gaucho always want-" He choked, his voice thoughtful, rough as sandpaper, and full of need.
With his next breath Gaucho meant to ask her where she was staying, if she needed anything from him, if there was anything that he could do - but his body interjected. Instead his body-pierced muzzle pressed forward, seeking out the delicate but flesh-shakingly beautiful skin of her own muzzle. His ever-burning wings rose higher as if he meant to defend and hide them from the world, as he had once done so many years ago. Magic and fire lingered just below his skin, humming and thriving, flourishing and growing with all that he felt inside.
She was back.
Even if she wasn't his, that was enough.
Because even after all this time, she was still his first. His beauty to his beast. And he loved her.
The Transcended was blissfully unaware of the exchange between Mara and her bonded; in the past, she had found the snake to be a calming presence on the WildFire, a presence that had often offered support to Sohalia in times of need. If she had been able to discern the companion's thoughts, she would have heatedly fought them. Gaucho was as much her present as her past, though his place in her future was, as it had always been, uncertain. The ivory mare found herself staring at the ground, uneasy and out of place in this strange facade that they seemed to be sharing. There was so much between them now, so much that had never been there before. They had both been unfaithful - though faithfulness had never been something that she expected from her lover, despite how much she might have wanted it. Now, though... well, it wouldn't have been fair to have expected him to remain celibate for the entirety of her absence. If she had died or disappeared permanently, she would have wanted him to be happy, would have wanted him to move on. No, the only one she blamed for the mess they found themselves in was herself.
A sand-dulled hoofbeat brought her attention snapping up, her eyes lingering on his and her breath catching in her throat as he stepped closer. A brief flare of fear filled her (was he finally so sick of her that he might physically drive her away?) but was quickly dashed by the look in his eyes. That look. The look that had her falling head over hooves every time she thought it was time to finally part ways, the one that kept her intoxicated with all that he was and all that they were. Her breath held then not in trepidation, but in anticipation for whatever might come next. Her worries about her distant family in the Falls did not disappear, not really, but they lingered only in the back of her mind, suddenly a concern for another day. He grew closer still, and she swallowed hard, his looming masculinity playing tricks on whatever intentions she might have had to let him go, to return to her daughter and the hidden groves throughout the Falls, to pretend that they had never even met today --
Oh, who was she kidding?
Astraeus fluttered quickly out of the way, chittering quickly at Vorsa to follow as the Transcended's hooves shuffled quickly forward in the sand. The mare threw herself at her mate, flinging her head over his withers, wrapping herself tightly into his grip. His wings enfolded her, providing a flame-licked cavern to shield her from the world, but for once her head remained above water. She was seeing clearly, was aware that this was not the solution to all of their problems, but this was Gaucho, and since when had she ever been able to deny herself all that he was? Perhaps it was beyond the time of trying to mold him into the mate that she wanted him to be; perhaps it was time to accept their differences and simply move through them, as he had for so long tried to do for her.
"Anha zhilak year norethaan, shekh ma shieraki anni," she murmured against his hide, breathing him in as though for the first time. "Ayyey."
It was amazing how time how had so perfectly healed and disguised the wound that she had left on his heart. He should have been angry with her - furious for abandoning him once again, for leaving their children and their herd, but he wasn't. Not at all. Gaucho could feel the place where that anger should have been, but it's absence overwhelmed him and forced his massive body forwards, towards Sohalia. His wings enveloped her as they always had - always would - and he simply forgot.
He forgot the distance, the time. The things that should have mattered, but suddenly didn't. He forgot all of that, and suddenly remembered.
Remembered the way she smelled.
The way she felt.
The sing-song cadence of her voice and the way her mane cascaded in ocean-like waves down her neck and shoulders.
He remembered with bright and inhospitable lust the way that he wanted her. needed her.
She flooded his veins and he was all the happier for it. Suddenly drunk on her, his craving for her - a need that was suddenly at the forefront of his mind - bubbled with white-hot intensity somewhere just behind his eyes and deep within his chest.
"Ayyey" He agreed into the soft folds of her shoulder. "Jalan author air anni-" He thought of asking her to stay, to promise that this feeling would last and that he still had some claim to her heart, despite her admittance that she still loved him, but thought better of it. They had never made such promises to each other which was perhaps why it was so easy for the two of them to fall back together again so completely.
It also explained how they ended up so far away from each other, for so long.
But Gaucho's mind - and body - were distracted by the enormity of her presence, and the need for a promise yielded to the needs of his flesh.
Silently, without judgement - although maybe there was a twinkle of a smirk in her black gaze - Mara slithered down Gaucho's withers narrowly avoiding the pressing bodies of the two pegasi, and onto the sands. She slithered towards the birds and simply waited.
The words came easily to her grey lips, slipping from her before she had the chance to deny either herself or her lover. Despite the fact that it was once again foreign to speak in his native tongue, she did not stumble, not over this particular phrase. How many times had she mumbled it to herself, perfecting the rough, guttural accent of his people, waiting for the day that she would be able to tell him her feelings in a way that he would truly understand? It had returned to her in a rush, reminding her of the ways that she had changed for him. Perhaps it had not been entirely a one-way street, even if it had been a narrow, twisting one.
It felt so good to be pressed against him again, to feel the warmth of his flesh and the taut rippling of his musculature. She moved to press her cheek against his neck, inhaling the heady scent of him, a reminder of the mutual desire they had always shared for one another. What their relationship lacked in verbal communication it made up in physical closeness; they had always been at their best when they were feeding off of the primal energy that always found a way to blossom between them. Some might say that what they had was made of lust rather than of love, but the Transcended knew the truth: it was their lust that had always reminded them of their love.
Ayyey, he promised her, mirroring her own declaration of affection; she might have said more, might have offered some kind of apology, some kind of promise to be better in the future -- but the words died on her tongue, suddenly rendered irrelevant. What did yesterday, or even tomorrow, matter when she should be enjoying today? The WildFire loved her, and she loved him, and that was all that they would ever need for the pieces of their scattered lives to fall back into place.
Heat grew in her stomach, blossoming into confidence. She retracted her head, skimming her muzzle lightly along the WildFire's broad shoulders. Once she was able to see his face, she offered a coy smile, fully aware of the stallion's sudden reaction to her closeness. Mischief twinkled in her gaze; she was intoxicated, swept up in the rush of sexuality that had suddenly bloomed between them. She twisted gently from his grip, attempting to lift his wings with her own to avoid running into them as she turned away from him, offering him a clear invitation.
What could possibly matter now? Not distance nor time nor infidelity could pull them apart-
-or could it?
That secret still lay between them, and perhaps others as well. Gaucho had not been latent in Sohalia's absence and ... well, were truth told openly, were the births of a few of Gaucho's foals not suspect? Between Sohalia's absence and the birth of Zekle (and unknown ot him, Hertz), not a tad fast?
But truth did not separate them now - or at least, not that truth. The truths of secret babies was buried beneath the familiarity and perfectness of their need of one another. Were Gaucho more reflective, he might have noticed how easily Ampere and Sohalia danced in and out of his life - as if there were one in the same, with different aspects showing themselves to him. But he didn't, though deep down, some part of him was thankful for Ampere's sudden disappearance. Were she still around, would Gaucho have halted his actions? His love for Sohalia had never been stilted by Ampere, only ... only accompanied.
But for now there was only Sohalia, and in that moment Gaucho thought that until his dying breath, there might only be her for him.
Jalan author air anni. The declaration - one reserved only for Sohalia - replayed in his mind but remained unspoken. His lips busily sought the curves and folds of her body as his mind simultaneously drowned itself in the heat of her skin and the pressure of her flesh against his own. Gaucho recalled her vividly - the day that they had met - an angel falling from the skies. And despite the years and distance between them, she was ever bit as angelic.
"Ayyey-" He mumbled again, though this time his voice was husky, hungry, and determined. He moved forward not as one who would conquer, not as one who believed the mare before him to be lesser or forced to submit, but one to whom great pleasure and appreciation was owed. Like one proffering a great cask of wine to a distant patron, Gaucho did not hesitate with the gift he offered.
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