| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
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Screams echoed and darkness stirred the world like a bubbling cauldron. Every fiber of his being burned. As if the sun had swelled in his chest his body burned from its light. And all the pain of before was washed in its light, in its baptism of fire.
Haldir watched with a deadly still gaze at the sleeping gold. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end and every nerve shook with the terror. Yet he makes no move from his own temporary bed.
CRACK-BOOOOOM
The dark stag jumped, his moon eyes wide with fear as the thunder barreled outside its thunderous echoes. That’s why they were here in the first place. They had been wandering the south parts of this land when the wind began to whip across the meadows and forests. Trees bent backwards before it, and clouds which would dwarf the northern mountains rose up in threat. So great the threatening storm, even the gold agreed it might be best to see refuge. That is how they found themselves here, in the heart of this world, in the Caverns.
PLOP!
A drop of water falls on the stag’s white snip causing him to wrinkle his nose and snort. He looks up to the dark ceiling, but even the dim glow of this room’s strange occupants can not light the offending dripper. It was a very strange room indeed they had found themselves in. Covered in soft moss, it offered the best bed, but then it was lite with mushrooms, held aloft by trees of old, acting as guardians of this sacred place. Thranduil had said they would only graze here, and move on to another room. Yet in the dull light and soft bed, the worn creature was powerless against the tides of sleep. The stag had not known, but sleep had once again been eluding the gold.
Another crack of thunder echoes against the cavern walls and the gold body jumps drawing the deer’s moon eyes again. It was the gold’s own nightmares that had woken his bonded. Already the gold coat was stained with sweat and his hide twitched, throat rumbling with echoes of hidden voices from long ago….
”IT WAS THE LORD’S!” A yell break through the sun burning fires licking his insides. Yet they are distanced and muffled. “He is dying for your betrayal!”
Another voice softer, calmer breaks through the darkness. “I admit my sin.”
The scene goes silent, before a smack rings through the wind. “ENOUGH!” A low growling voice, halts all moving things in this dark world.
The yelling voice continues in bitterness and spite. “Nellas have wasted your love my child. That boy is not worth it. He fought for her not you. Already the high council sits and his own father has consented to his punishment…” A tense moment of silence echoes, drawn out in like a long slow acting venom. “Death. But I can save you from the same my child, I can help-”
The younger voice cuts in but has grown weak and frail where it had been strong. “I need not your protection.”
“Leave.” The dark stallion’s voice commands, and there was no room for argument this time.
A moment’s silence passes, and only the growing wind and distant thunder sound. Then hooves sound close. “It is safe my dear.” Came the same stallion’s song, only softer and older sounding, its bravado ceased. “Take care though, the Sun’s Grace may not have worn off.”
A rustling is heard and a dim shaft of light finally fills the dream. And it burns.
The gold jerks violently again. Haldir watches him ever still, his hide now beginning to tremble with anxiety all its own. Though he knew not what exact dream the gold kept, he knew its feelings, its source. And he feared, for those were not dreams….but memories….nightmares.
”Arwe-“ But he was cut off “Shhh.” Came the femme voice as it moved the last of the cover from his body where it had been hid. “She’s not here.” It bordered bitterness.
He groans, letting his heavy head fall back to earth. Lightening cracks above, making the mare jump, but the white glowing figure of the old stallion only looks above with thankfulness. “It will have to do.” His whispered.
The fires within lash out, and earth eyes close for just a moment, hissing with the pain. But then, its gone. The light inside burnt out. All agony vanished. “The flower is done.” Whisper the femme voice. The gold opens his eyes once more confused as he looks to the blue roan standing above him. “Wha—“ Shoulders roll trying sit himself up. The roan moves around with a rough grace and comes to his back, where she lays and tucks under him. Her horned head helping loft his with the tenderness only one feeling can give.
Earth eyes find his own golden flesh, and though is stained red with blood and brown with dirt, no wound marks its flesh, nor bone lay broken under its skin. “Nellas….what have you done…” His own voice cries in utter agony, though no pain should be left.
The trembling of the gold’s body was now growing, and his sweat stained his sides burnt gold. Haldir’s large ears folded back in worry. Thunder crashed above and a wind, like a hurricane tore into the cavern, rattling the old leaves and their guardians. Outside, a roar of rain begins. The deer, shivers, his own nerves getting the best of him. He calls out to the gold, his gruff voice nearly drowned by the raging storm. Yet the gold did not wake….
”I can not, Oracle.” It was solid and strong, growling with the inner strength that only one power can give. The golden unicorn rose from his bed, the blue roan with pained looks rose with him. “I will face him again.” The youth declares.
“Foolish Thranduil!” The old white stallion trembles with anger. “We have not saved you only to watch you throw it away! Your stubborn-“ Yet he cut himself short. The blue roan’s face grows confused but the gold is persistent.
“I did not ask for you to save me Oracle!” A lightening strike rips across the heavens above, drowning out his voice. “I will not flee. You told me that love was strong, and I shall prove it. She is my love, and bears my child which you praise. I’ll not leave them.“
A horn low and deep bellows under the raging storm. The small Nellas, and the gold look to a dark hill lit only by the lightening dancing all around. But for the skies and whipping wind all the world stopped.
Nellas’s trembling voice is the first to speak. “The Lord Edrahil is dead.” Tears break forth in her eyes and her sobs muffle her healer’s prayers. The gold turns to her in confusion…her reaction not making sense. Then he looks to the old white stag, hoping for answers as usual. But the gentle giant stares blindly forward with tears.
Haldir grows frantic. The gold now shifts on his soft bed, his crowned head digging and jerking, and his groans becoming audible. The dark stag noses his bonded’s wet neck, calling still over the roar of rain and thunder. Blind to any who might come through the cavern door…But nothing will stop the nightmare….For too long now he had hidden it. Now it would see him relive it with a vengeance of a years of ignorance built up in its venom.
A cold fear shivered through the gold. “Oracle….” His voice harbors suspicion. “…surely you do not cry for your traitor.” The gold’s voice is hard, but as the blind eyes turn to the golden youth his knees begin to quake.
“I do not weep for the Edrahil.” It trembles and shakes with anger, but then breaks, the tears flowing freely, and hot. “I weep for the death of your son.”
The thunder cracks overhead, but the lightning flashes on dark earth eyes, fading from the world. Knees give way and the proud gold crashes to the earth. Nellas does not move to help. The gold’s head swims and falls. His voice speaks, but it sounds foreign and already dead. “Arwen?”
A drop of rain sounds in the pool behind as the long low horn continues to sound on the hill over the coming rain. Nellas speaks with a coldness. “Dead.” Oracle’s blind eyes turn accusingly to her, but to his gaze she tucks away in selfishness. The lie was the only way. Horned head rises to the heavens above, and a cry rings above the low horn on the hill and rain, pierced with more grief and pain than it as they harmonize in the storm.
OOC:: Just so you OOC people know!
Arwen is Thranduil's lover and bears his child but is a princess and out of his caste. Nellas is a healer, loves Thran, and is secretly (known only to her and her mom) the bastard child of Edrahil, the Lord (so she's Arwen's half sister). So he was forced to fight for Arwen, but as her betrothed went for the final killing blow Arwen took it instead. Nellas came with the one all healing flower and had to decide between Arwen, Edrahil (dying of shock), and Thranduil and she chooses Thrand, cause duh love.
Oracle (the bastard step brother of Edrahil) and Nellas rescue Thranduil from prison where he is doomed to killed the next morning. They are trying to convince him to leave under the cover of the thunderstorm when the horn sounds that the lord is dead, but Thran's son also dies at the same moment a still born. Then Nellas lies about the death of Arwen in order to get Thranduil to leave and escape to safety (after this last scene).
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![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
Now we’re both casualties in this
Thunder cracked overhead, a sharp abrupt sound as though hundreds of lights burst at once. It was enough to cause the Thief to flinch mere seconds after it happened. Each time, she found herself expelling the breath she had so sharply inhaled. Rexanna knew it was just turning to Orangemoon, but there was something different about this storm. It felt more violent, more intense and brutal with every strike of lightning. She had avoided the trail of strikes, doing her best to keep out of the way of nature’s unrelenting anger. Even though she missed the strikes, they came close to her and Marembo, but instead of leaving burned flesh in place of her golden dappled hide, it came with a torrent of rain. Soon, the two were heaping masses of flesh, bone, and water. Dripping everywhere they went, containing the water that fell upon them nearly everywhere they went. It turned Marembo’s pelt into a mix of bronze and black, his once fluffy tail seeming more like a flat rat’s tail as it mopped around Rexanna’s own drenched withers. It had turned the pale golden mare into a darker cream with a dark goldenrod blanket that draped across her back. Her mane had turned easily into a heap of grays and blacks, mimicking the look of already having running mascara along her face – even though the black didn’t run further, it stayed as a sticky black mess across her face.
Every step she took, the golden chains she wore dripped with water, as if it were a cascading waterfall with every twitch and movement. It made the little chains feel heavier, weighed upon her back harshly in both physical and emotional forms. She had grown used to wearing the chains again, but it still didn’t keep her from remembering the prison it had put her into before crossing Helovia’s borders. The feeling of the chains was something ingrained into her, something she’d never forget even if she didn’t wear them. And instead of leaving them for someone else, perhaps someone who was lucky enough to not have been a bird trapped in an elegant golden cage, she couldn’t bear the idea of seeing someone else wear such a thing. And so she kept them, draped across her back from head to tail. Just one of the many gifts from the Blood Prince in her lifetime. Except this time, it was paired with the dark ebony “C” etched into her flesh and scarred over on her chest, a brand for him among the other gifts he had given her. It was new, though, as Calstron found himself in Helovia. The feeling stirred itself in the Thief’s chest, always reminding her that he might be around every corner. His orange orbs waiting for the chance to strike out against the golden harlot that he had somehow loved despite the things that Rexanna had apparently done to him.
All of her being would’ve been prepared to see him around the next corner she took, but she wasn’t prepared for what she found. The lightning crackled and thunder roared, giving the Thief a slight sight of a familiar figure as she made her way into the heart caves – seeking refuge from the wild storm outside. Her chest began to beat harder, a pounding feeling with the sound of the rush of blood. Immediately, her and Marembo diverted their course, aimed straight for the gold that lay upon the earth in a heap of his own tremors. Oceanic eyes grew wide and despite the extra heaviness she felt with the chains and the water that drenched her coat, she picked up her pace. Immediately, Marembo alerted her to Haldir’s presence. Rexanna turned her head to spot the cerndyr in his frustration, standing nearby the gold that lay in his own cage of memories and nightmares. “Haldir?” It was barely above a whisper – it had been so long since she had seen the duo she couldn’t be sure, but something in her tugged her toward the Laurelin. Perhaps to be sure it was Thranduil, maybe also to be sure he wasn’t dying before her eyes.
Marembo slid down the leg of the Thief, a little wet mop of a polecat as he rushed over to the cerndyr, aiming his tiny black paws to gently touch Haldir, as if to do his best to calm him while Rexanna moved and hovered above Thranduil. Her head lowered, dark cream of a muzzle reaching down into the soaked pelt of burnt gold. She pressed into him then, realizing shortly after that the gentle means of her approach wasn’t going to wake him. Her brows furrowed, gaze growing narrow and sharp. “Thranduil, wake up!” She began, not exactly a shout but an attempt at first. She began to nudge him more, aiming for his neck and moving over to the side along his back to avoid being kicked. She nudged his withers for a few seconds before the worry began to billow from her breast. “WAKE UP.” She shouted at him, but it was drowned out by the cracks of lightning outside. Lifting her head, she let her gaze look up into the roof of the caverns, then to the walls to wonder how much room she had to work with. It was then, she did her best to try and wake the Laurelin. She grew silent, but focused her magic. It grew as a fire within her, bursting from her golden spiraled horn like a flare. It was a crack among the air that seemed to split across the caves, echoing and bouncing from cavern to cavern. The firework shot across the air like a bullet, a sparkle of reds and oranges emitted bright and flickering before it died out.
And now, her attention was entirely on Thranduil in the hopes that perhaps something had worked, while Marembo did his best in his tiny glory to soothe Haldir.
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
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image | coding
Permission from Hawk to touch/nudge Thran! @Thranduil :D you can have him do whatever to Rex if you'd like. xD
![[Image: lovelyskylark.gif?8]](http://a.deviantart.net/avatars/l/o/lovelyskylark.gif?8)
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
09-05-2016, 04:35 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-05-2016, 04:35 PM by Thranduil.)
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Everything blurred. Melting away with the rain. All wounds healed but he could not hold even his head from the ground. Even the effort to breath was too much. He had flesh, and blood again, but all the breathed life into was hollow and black. “Arwen…”
“Arwen” The name transcends the dream, coming like a distant cry on those gray lips. It was answered by a bugle. A full cry of frustration from Haldir, but he was distanced. Cheeks burning hot with tears he was retreating. The grief and agony too great. The weight too much, he withdrew trying to reach the gold’s thoughts. His mind struggled to rise some barrier to the gold’s, trying to separate himself. Shaking the antlered head the deer calls again, weakened and pleading. Let him be. Wake, and let this agony for the both of them cease. Thunder shook the cavern above the roar of rain. To share the pain, to be by the gold’s side as he had ever promised was too much. For once it was task to great for the deer. And he wept in his weakness.
‘Haldir’ Wet eyes look with shock about, to see a blurred cream figure, and the stag goes rigid. Instinct told him to leap forward, to lower his antlers. In his head he could even see it, but the gold’s state left his companion without the will. Then, the light cracked outside, and – Rexanna…
“Dawn will be here soon.” The femme voice returns, insistent, and weighted with worry. “Yes.” Came a mournful reply of the elder. Yet nothing happens. “He has grieved enough, they will be looking soon.” Her voice was colder. The warmth in her voice, the gentleness of her whispers were gone. The elder has no answer, he knows the grieving will never end.
A warmth presses on his neck, but gains only a groan. “Thranduil, wake up.” Earth eyes open, “Arwen?” But only Nellas is there.
“Arwen” It comes again, and Haldir shrinks. It had never gone this far. Only once had such nights come to pass in his short age, and never had the gold spoken. As Rexanna bent over his bonded, the deer was still distanced. Only when a warmth touched his shoulder did the stag look from his bonded. A wet black and white face stares back at him. The moon eyes stare into the black. Being pulled back from the lost depths of loneliness that dark times fed on. The white eyes shut away and antlered head dips to the small creature, burying itself into what little was there. Into what comfort there was, for it was ever so rare for the deer. A shout rings the cavern, and the stag looks to the still trapped figure of his bonded.
“Orac...” It trailed weak where only hours before it had been so strong. “I must…” The white bathed stallion at last clicked on the cloak, but his eyes, though blind, told the answer. “You can not.” The thin life the stallion held onto wavered, he sidestepped, only to hit Nellas as she did his own cloak. Nellas.
“Nellas.” The blue roan, who’s eyes held the weight of guilt (mistaken for grief), looked to him. “Nellas,, you must claim him.” The words came hot and hissing under the roar of rain beyond the trees. “Claim his innocence.” Yet the blue healer retracks. “Thra-” “I MUST BURY MY SON.” The roar shocks them all, and leaves the gold staggering. The mare instantly is at his side. “Nellas, you know what they will do.” As all traitors, the child’s body would be fed to the hounds, publicly in celebration. His age mattered not, unless someone spoke such.
“We must go. They know.” Oracle announced in the silence. “Nellas, promise.” The blue roan turned away. The vision grew hazy. The black wisps at the edge wrapping around. The memory and nightmare merging. With stumbling steps the gold tried to follow. Lightening overhead cracks. Nothing makes sense as the nightmare wraps to its vicious conclusion. Limbs hit his back and shoulders as he struggled to follow…follow who. “Arwen!”
“Arwen!” The voices stronger, louder, the height of fear and the terror. Haldir barks at the cream mare, but she’s already awaking what lay within.
Darkness opens to faces. Old and pale. Blue. White. To each he named, to each he remembered every feature. Then CRACK New and gold, without name or face. Rosen-
He gasped awake, body jerking to sit up, as white eyes found the fading colors in the cavern, and ears rang with the echoing crack. For a second he’s still, sides heaving, and wet ever still with sweat. Yet all his mind is washed in the dream still. The faces of those he knew, reluctant to return to ghostly forms. They had been remembered at last, and it caused the burn all the longer in his vision.
The stag in the corner does not move. He dares not. His mind, still weighted by the bond, is uncertain. What would happen now? He looked between his bonded and the glimmering with rain, Rexanna. Those who usually entered some sacred space of the gold were repelled, but this? He dared not move.
Nares, trembling between held breaths, exhale and the heavy head drops. Whether spoken to or through finally awakening the earthen eyes at last turn to the cream mare. How many things can be shown through silence. The zoned out earth eyes look for a moment blinking blankly, confused and questioning. Then they focus, and heat. Nostrils flare and his chest puffs, the comings of anger. Haldir’s head ducks as what he feared seemed to awake.
But this was not like other times. There is nothing left, the draining memories still lay freezing upon his bones, and chest. So the anger tumbles away like a fallen barrier, and he drops all defenses. When he speaks at last, it is surrender to her presence, to the truth of those nightmares, to his failures. “Rexanna.”
OOC:: Just so you OOC people know!
Thranduil wants to sneak back in and claim/bury his son, because since he is a bastard child, son of this wreck of relationship Thranduil is afraid the people's anger will be placed on the babe (its been done before). Like most enemies it will suffer an unhonorable destruction, and left unburied (a huge insult/wrong doing). So he begs Nellas to do it, but duh love triangle.
And then nightmarish dream weirdness.
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@Rexanna
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
Now we’re both casualties in this
Her heart is a thunderous beat, rival to the storm outside as it conjured and snapped. All she could focus on was the writhing figure of Thranduil, a sweaty mess in his own bedding, shifting and swirling and jerking himself in something that Rexanna wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a seizure of some kind. “Arwen.” She heard the name the first time as she bent over his body, brows furrowing and uncertainty lacing beneath the exotic lines of her face. Rain dripped from her pelt and her cage of chains, dripping onto his already dampened pelt. She was trying, and trying hard to wake him. If not for the screams that trailed to her from Haldir, the companion that was more than likely facing trauma as he watched his bonded endure something that had to have been excruciating. Determination lined the creases of her eyes, the ones that had already been set by sleepless nights alongside trying to raise twins. But all the exhaustion from those nights were put in the back of her mind, hidden in a dusty closet as fear and frustration rushed into her.
She was afraid he was going to die here, and she was to be the one forced to witness it.
But she was angry that this was the outcome of her first interaction with the stallion after so long from his wisdom. She looked to the elegant golden stag of thievery. She looked to him for guidance when she was ranked a Phantom in the Basin, and yet the stag was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t find him among the many faces of the Basin, and to finally, finally see the man after his departure and the changes that had taken place undoubtedly in the both of them, this wasn’t how she wanted to think of him.
So she’d try her hardest to wake the Laurelin from the slumber he was suffering in. In all of her attempts, Marembo’s own beady gaze caught the moonlight eyes of the cerndyr, concern crossing his features as he pressed his little hands on the chest of the deer, and as he lowered his head to bury himself among the wet fur that lined Marembo, he did his best to wrap himself around Haldir in comfort. His head rubbed gently against the neck of the ebony stag, but a slight twitch of fear streamed through the polecat as his bonded screamed at the Golden.
They were remarkably similar, in some strange unknown ways. Both were glittered in gold, built into their flesh and minds. Rexanna hadn’t a clue of where Thranduil came from, but if there was some sort of being that was all-knowing, they’d know that despite the history that raged between the two of them from their other lives, at least Rexanna had the chance to bury her own dead child. And if she had somehow known that was all Thranduil wished to do in suffering the dream, she would’ve let him be – stood by and watched to make sure he didn’t end up horribly harming himself.
But she didn’t know – she couldn’t have known, and part of that frustrated her even worse. Who exactly was ‘Arwen’ and why was it troubling the stallion so much? As her fireworks shot through the cavern, her attention was entirely focused onto the Laurelin, watching silently as the rain dripped from her skin, eyes bright and narrow searching for the earthen tones of Thranduil’s, praying to any and all of the gods that he’d end up alright.
And just like that, she jumped back slightly as he gasped awake. A snort left Rexanna’s lips as she watched him, eyes trailing from his face to his chest, to everywhere else on him making sure he was alright. Marembo stayed nearly glued to Haldir, his paws trying to soothe the companion as Rexanna dealt with Thranduil – she prepared for the worst, for the screams and anger to be brushed onto herself. And for a moment she thought it would turn that way. But finally, between the staggered breaths and stretched nares, he looked at her. All the Basin Thief could do was stare, to watch the man she had looked up to and all she got in return were distant eyes and fading lights of lightning cracking above.
“Rexanna.” It sounded almost defeated. But Rexanna was persistent, and where she figured it might be a good time for her leave, she just couldn’t leave him like that. She cared far too much about the welfare of those that had helped her in her own time of need. He had been the golden man in striking armor and wolfish hide that had saved her from the patrols of the Blood Prince, and while it didn’t last long, she imagined that deep down somewhere she owed something to him. And just like that, her oceanic gaze never left his face as she knelt down beside him, golden chains clinking across the rocky structure that made up the cavern. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” She began, her voice soft and wavering amid the chances she tried to make it appear calm. “I – I thought you were dying.” She stuttered, her head swiveling away from him for a few brief moments as the fear began to drain from her body. And despite the strange things that had happened, the golden blanketed mare knew better than to mention the name the Laurelin had screamed into the air.
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
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image | coding
@Thranduil
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
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Haldir’s face melted as the gold’s fell. His hanging breath exhaled, and his own tired limbs gave way. With the natural grace he lowered to the floor beside his new found friend. Ears still stayed on the gold, but he looks to the polecat with the whisper of a smile. As much as he could manage in these times. If anyone ever understood what value a friend truly was, it was Haldir, for he so usually so short of them.
The gold was not quite as at ease. His body was still adjusting to this different time and place. Heart was slowing, body calming, and his breath eased as he took in slowly where he was, who he was, and who exactly was beside him. He only notices after she’s already still that she’s laid down beside him. Everything seems slow, and out of place. His head was still too wrapped in another life, another world, and it lashed out each time as he tried to shove those dark tales back into their boxes.
Yet he was coming to. Ears, at first lazy and hanging, now tilt back. His eyes, go from blank to withdrawn and searching. The dream…He had had the dream again. But it had been worse than ever before. It had felt so much more realistic, and those voices…those faces, they still rang in his ears. Anguish pressed his chest. Why? Why was it torturing him no- Then his confused questioning goes quiet….a rosen ghost enters his mind once more.
A sweet song of a voice, soft and cautious sounds above the still echoing dream. A weight presses his chest. Had he been fully himself, it would have ballooned into fully raging anger. Angry at her for probing, for bringing it up, for worrying, for witnessing…But the freezing fears were yet too close, and the gentle thief did not press her luck as some dared. And so in the same mindless low defeated tones his whispers upon a breath, “I-I was….I…did?” Though it trails off into another tumble of thoughts, the rest stolen by the roar of rain and distant growing thunder.
He was dying. And the gold flinches, his head turning slightly away from her. But he was….he remembered…no that was the dream…But had died. Or had he simply wanted to? He exhales long, and low. His mind still putting the world back together. He was here, so he couldn’t be dead. But was there really anything of life in him? Wasn’t this him? The shell of the Golden Thief was so completely removed, he couldn’t even find it….
Rexanna though. She was here. Beside him. His eyes life to find her’s turned away. It struck him as strange, though couldn’t place why. Rexanna…the name kept rolling in his mind blankly. The titles attached to her still invisible in the fog. The dark stag to the side lifts his head confused. The sluggishness of the gold confuses him. As he rolls through the memories he possessed of the golden mare, they infect the Laurelin’s mind like venom.
Rexanna, Thief of the Basin. Immediately Haldir feels the tension rise up and the dark clouds he feared begin to bloom in the gold’s mind. The Basin. The cursed, dreaded basin. The mountains rose up in his conscience like walls. Haldir’s moon eyes cast back down, avoiding the questions the gold began to fling at him. He adored the gold mare, especially for what she had just done, and the shame for waking the gold too quickly to her bruised his heart.
The crowned head rises up, no longer hanging and listless. He twists to look upon the cream and gold mare for the first time with any real focus. His earth eyes slowly growing shades darker, hiding the gold within, getting colder and harder. He still had not risen, he still not fly into some madness, the freezing effects of fear and grief still clung to him too closely. Yet it clearly was warming up, he was remembering. “It changed! It-“ He stammers the confusion still catching him. “Why did you do that?” The question posed with accusation but cracked with pain. The truth was though the first part of the dream had ever haunted him, he had never had the pain of reliving the second. Never let himself remember the golden babe, who’s grave went unmarked and unmade. Who's name he never called. Who's face he never even saw.
OOC:: Thran's never dreamed anything in the second post before, so he's a bit confused still. =]
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@Rexanna
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
Now we’re both casualties in this
There was something that just didn’t seem right. Rexanna couldn’t tell if it was the fact she had just abruptly woken Thranduil and he was still adjusting, or if something was seriously wrong. Instead, she turned her gaze back toward the golden man as he stuttered, speaking words that made little sense to the Thief. Her brows furrowed as he spoke, thinking that he had died, or that he did, but did it really matter? He wasn’t dead, that much was enough for Rexanna as she looked him over quickly with bright blue eyes filled with worry that creased the sleepless lines of her exotic marred face. She didn’t miss the flinch that occurred in his body, her eyes narrowing in on him as he looked away. She found a frown cross her lips and turned her own face away, surveying the cavern as he tried to put himself together. The only sound was the thunder and rain roaring outside, paired with the drips of water as they fell from her onto the earthen floor.
Marembo found himself pleased, but worried all the same, when Haldir knelt down beside him. His bright beady eyes searching for the moonlit eyes of the cerndyr with a tiny squeak, as if he wanted to say it’d be okay. A small tuft for an ear flickered toward the other companion as he found himself press his snake-like body gently into Haldir, his little black paws still gently pressing onto his new found friend. Thankful that he was alright, as well as being a kind companion, unlike the ones his bonded’s children had.
Rexanna felt Thranduil’s eyes on her for a few moments, but she continued to look away. Part of her didn’t want to look back at him with the distant look in his eye. It wasn’t the Thranduil she remembered, it wasn’t the one that was kept in her heart as a strong defiant source, it wasn’t the one that sparked such controversy at her first herd meeting when he had been named a king. Part of that hurt, it hurt because even though she didn’t know where he went or why he left in the first place, she wanted him to be okay. It was obvious to her that he wasn’t. And it was uncomfortable, a seething burning sensation in the bottom of her stomach.
However, when his head lifted up she finally turned to look at him. Her dual toned mane dripping water as she let her gaze survey him once more – doing her best to avoid his eyes for the fear of what she might find. So instead, she focused on the ivory leaf marking on his forehead, ears perked and tipped toward him to give him full attention, even if her heart didn’t bear her to. “It changed! It-” Her brows furrowed, her heart longing for him and wishing to remove whatever pain seemed to stunt the thoughts of the one person who seemed to have something to say after everything. “Why did you do that?” Her head lowered ever so slightly, her gaze drifting to the ground where marks had been left of both sweat and scrapes from Thranduil’s horn in his moments of turmoil.
She wanted to tell him that she didn’t know why she did it. That she just felt the need to. She had already told him she thought he was dying. What more could she say? She apologized, acknowledged her actions, and it still pained her as his words echoed in her mind. Perhaps she felt a similar pain beneath her chest as he had, without realizing it. It dripped from his voice and she yearned for him. She wanted to console him, to let him melt into her and express whatever pain he was feeling. She wanted to take it from him and mold him into the man she thought he was, the one she remembered. Life was difficult and unfair, though. And despite all the hardships Rexanna had been dealt through her life, she still hadn’t learned to let it not bother her.
After a few moments of silence, she allowed her gaze to wash over him one more time. “You were hurting yourself. I’m sorry.” Her voice held defeat, as if she recognized the mistake she had made. But there was sympathy mixed into it, remembering the terrors she had before Helovia and the means of which she found herself in when she’d wake. With that in mind, she reached out her pale muzzle, aiming to gently touch Thranduil’s golden shoulder in her own attempts at comfort. Maybe it was foolish of her, but she wanted him to know that she didn’t want him to be alone with whatever problems he was facing. She didn’t want him to be like she had, lost and alone to suffer and dwell on past mistakes. “I was worried about you.” Her voice was soft, yet it still cracked with honesty, and it dripped with truth.
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
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image | coding
@Thranduil <3
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
09-10-2016, 02:47 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-10-2016, 02:54 PM by Thranduil.)
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The dark stag turned his head from his new friend next to him, though the warmth of the small creature was ever so comforting. He could feel the shifting thoughts of the gold thoughts. How harsh and unfair they were growing. Yet Haldir dared not speak what he truly thought. That the dream, the nightmare, had continued had nothing to do with her. His tongue held, bitterly, from even mentioning its true possible cause. Though it should have been clear….perhaps that is what set the gold so on edge.
His mind still spun in place, confusing one for another. Still set that she had somehow caused the nightmare to extend. That it had been her fault, but that lie was getting harder to hold on to, and her silence on the matter stung him. The gold still hadn’t realized exactly how intense the nightmare’s terror had gripped him. He was oblivious to the moss rubbed into his white mane, nor the dirt and dark green staining his horns, or even the scrapes upon the ground. That he had even let slip her name was still unknown. If he had…
She hides her face, tucking it, and he watches her with intensity, following her eyes to the scares upon the soft moss bed. Gold harks flick back confused. Who were those from? Haldir’s silence broke. ’You’ The gold looks away, his gut twisting, his fog lifting, but protesting to do so. Haldir lets a few images slip of the gold only moments before, careful not to let the name go with it. The heart of the gold finally quickens. The fear (dare we call it embarrassment) quickening the beat of his heart. The shield that was his golden coat was being pulled back on, terrified that some of the scars the crisscrossed his body had been revealed, especially those upon his chest. He so rarely let it slip so fully off…so careful to keep the collar pulled high, and belt tight. Yet it had slipped from his shoulder, carelessly fallen to the floor. And so she had seen the tender flesh of his true self, and he resented her for it.
The soft gentle voice whispers into his ears again and he looks back, his eyes still hard and cold. He sees her faltering back, her strong concern, which at first had been solid and unwavering, falters. She hesitates, she falls, and it solidifies her guilt to whatever twisted crime the golden charged her with. Yet for all his rising barriers his gut clinches to hear such brokenness in her voice. Head turns back to look down upon the ground. Some unbidden reaction speaking to the ghost of humanity lingering in the dark shadows within him.
So as her muzzle reaches over and brushes his shoulder his coat flicks in shock. Head jerking back to her and shoulder pulling away. So rarely did the world reach out to touch him in some gentle…comfort. It felt foreign, but as soon as his body shifted from her, some dark mood presses of regret. Perhaps he was rising in anger, frustration, and confusion, but she laid beside him so selflessly, so wounded by his accusations, defeated without even a protest. Yet he had pulled away. Reminded so recently of the heart he had once held, he felt some of its ghostly pangs, pointing to a truth he dared not breathe. That he wanted needed what she offered in that touch.
Worried about him. Harks fall back. She worried…. More dark clouds and venom seep into his skin. Snorting, he shares his head, trying to clear it, but all that came though, though wrong it was stoked into his mind by fire of fear burning in his chest was a terrifying phrase, ’She knows.’. Golden limbs strike out and the gold mass lifts, rising from her side and shrinking away. Space. He needed space. Yet now is the returning golden thief. She had missed it, desired to see it return back to its norm. She might soon regret that. He keep his eyes locked hard upon hers, but they are unforgiving. All surrender had left his worn shoulders, all openness closed in his eyes. All left was a proud golden thief, denying any blemish on his coat. Daring her to speak of any scar she saw upon his body beneath the gold spun lies. There was a price for honesty and truth with the gold, and now she was to pay it. “You shouldn’t.” It spat, bitter, sounding like anger, but it was nothing more than a falsified front meant to cover the obvious looks of a cornered wounded predator.
It was harsh, it was unfair, and it was all in pure defense. All to keep her away, to give space, and to shove her from any possible idea she had of mentioning those things which had caused her worries. She wanted the Laurelin, the Golden Thief, she was getting it.
OOC:: Hawk's message to Rexanna:: "PUSH ALL THE BUTTONS REX. PUSH THEM"
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Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
Now we’re both casualties in this
Marembo just sat and watched, his gaze traveling from cerndyr to Rexanna, shifting to and fro. She was worried, just as the small polecat was, but he wasn’t suffering from rapid thoughts and overcoming a nightmare like Thranduil had. All the polecat could do was be a voice of reason, watching and waiting as things unfolded before his eyes. All he could do was sit there beside his new friend, watching and waiting, knowing full well that Rexanna – at least when she wasn’t vulnerable and pregnant – could handle herself. Yet, the creature didn’t know this man like Rexanna thought she did. All he had were the memories to sift through, to learn from and figure out what exactly the gilded woman imagined the Laurelin to be.
Rexanna continued to keep her head level, watching as Thranduil’s hide twitched with her touch and he pulled away. She should’ve expected it, to be honest. But there was just something about this encounter that screamed unexpected, and all the Basin’s Thief was trying to do was roll with it. Her head retreated back toward her pale chest, marred with a dark and haunting “C” in stark contrast to her light pelt. Perhaps he would notice, perhaps he wouldn’t. Rexanna always remembered, and as far as she was concerned, Thranduil wouldn’t do something so terrible to another person. Would he?
Still the words slipped from her lips, her gaze searching for his earthen tones as they darkened. He was beginning to be more like himself, part of her was glad, but part of her continued to worry. After witnessing something like that, she knew that it wasn’t something that could be completely hidden and forgotten about. She had tried many years with Calstron, and failed every time. And so, perhaps she had a bit of an attachment to him, unknowing of what the words meant that slipped from his lips in his slumber, but knowing that it more than likely wasn’t something he wanted known.
The gilded mare didn’t even move when Thranduil’s legs struck out, lifting himself from her and granting space between them. Her exotic striped head just swiveled, eyes still watching his body for any signs that something was still wrong. His voice had grown darker, angrier, not as broken as the words that slipped his lips beforehand as he told her that she shouldn’t worry about him.
She wanted to laugh at him.
But she knew it wasn’t the right time. So instead, she let the silence grow again as she lifted herself off the earthen floor, head lifting high against her smaller stature of the Laurelin. She stepped back slightly toward Marembo and Haldir, granting him more space before flicking her dual toned tail against her hocks, splattering water across the ground she had laid upon. Her ears perked, tipping toward the gilded man as her eyes sought his. A frown finding her face before she was able to speak. “I shouldn’t, you’re right.” She began, her tone not defeated this time, not afraid, but strong. “But I do.” She paused, a bit of silence overcoming the cave once again.
“I’m really nothing to you, and so you think I shouldn’t worry. After all, I hardly even know you. But I worried anyway. I worried when there was a herd meeting called and you were gone. I wanted to know what happened to you.” She paused, her head lifting higher as her eyes narrowed on the figure of the Laurelin. “I might be nothing to you, Thranduil, just another face you’ve met and recruited for the Basin. But to me you’re so much more than that. You were the first face I saw when I had spent the last year of my life running from a nightmare. You were the one that offered me a home, where I would no longer have to hide who I was and what had happened to me. Before I stumbled into Helovia, Cal’s soldiers were on my heels, ready to take me back to that psychotic prince. As far as I’m concerned, you saved my life.” Perhaps it was a bit too much information, but he needed to understand why she cared for him. Honesty laced her voice and dripped with strength. “Everyone has nightmares. Everyone has something they’re trying to run from or with they could go back and accomplish. Life is unfair, it’s a shit show at best. We’re all just trying to fix all the terrible things we’ve had to endure.” She added in, shooting a glance toward Haldir before her next set of words. “Had things been different, I would’ve stayed and tried to prevent Calstron from burning down my home, killing everyone I had ever known. I would’ve stayed and taken the punishment I probably deserved. Perhaps my first born child would still be alive. But that’s all in the past, and we can’t change that.” Her gaze narrowed again on the gilded man. "I worry about you because you changed my life."
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
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image | coding
@Thranduil PUSHING BUTTONS.
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
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Crowned head had risen, harks falling back and tasseled tail curled ever meticulously at his hooves, the white train barely brushing the ground. To her he looked down, his pride righted and eyes set still and cold. Given a few more moments some sly comments of tease might come forth. He was as he should be, outside at least. The collar straightened, the wrinkles smoothed from his coat, but the scars were still below, and his mind still rolled over to remember how they felt….how they looked….how they ached.
He has turned to face her, his accusation leaving his lips, his chest inhaling, head rising. He was pulling himself together, for he knew now what was to come. All these intrusive fellows were the same. Kahlua. Hotaru. Ashamin. And all the long list before them. They were the same. Into this world they stepped, into these dark shadows, where his eyes were cast with fears and terrors of another age. And each was the same. He always stepped away. He always spoke no (though maybe not in words they knew). And they always continued, they pushed, they stepped forward. The words always came anyway, pouring forth hot and impassioned. (Perhaps from some place of care and love but not in ways he could understand) Pushing him till he was against the wall and had no choice but to be closer, to face their hot, heated words of what he should do, of who he needed to be, and the questions, god always. Wanting to know. Telling. Lecturing. Wounding more.
All till he could stand it no more and he as well lashed out. Vicious fires of rage which had nothing to do with them, or the name which they bore, lashing out like whips to wound and repeal. To get space. To be alone in the quiet darkness. So often it repeated, and had worked. Each name which had come into his dark corners now would look upon the golden coat with hurt, mistrust, or anger. Each kept away. The glimpse they had seen of what lay below washed away in the blinding hurt or frustration he dealt. Each now gave space in the only way he had known to achieve it.
Yet it was the ritual. It was as it was. There no sense that there could be any different. Call it a punishment for not tending the gold cloth and letting it slip but he expected it, and knew no other alternative. It hadn’t always been so necessary. Before this land he simply moved on and left behind the frustrated glances, and hot tempers. Yet here, in Helovia, where for so long now he had resided, and where so many pulled at him, rosen and the like, it seemed to occur more and more. The world was getting smaller, pushing in. No other way to continue on. As much pain as it held, he needed that. He thought.
Silence. It pressed uneasily in his ears, worming into them with its soft ringing tones, and the softer roar of rain. It seemed so far away now, strange. One hark slides sideways, lifting ever slightly. Then she rises. And she retreats. Cold eyes narrow, but within their depths something shifts, stirring it alive again. No one ever gave space….no one had ever retreated. None, after what they had seen, gave ground. So while his sides let the breath out long and slow, his head tilted in confusion distrust.
When she speaks, it commands. His crowned head rights itself, the tone echoing Ashamin’s defiance… Yet Haldir was ever watchful. Through all he had remained silent. His own mind rolling with the gold’s and twisting in the same sympathy and frustration it always seemed to fall into when the gold fell into such moods. But as he watched the scene, as Rexanna stepped away, his moon eyes had grown more alert, and watchful, noticing something different. So he whispers to the distrusting gold, ”Listen”. And he does.
The defeated tones, the broken syllables were gone, and in their place was a strong voice, layered deep in what he could not even unravel. All the while his distrust build, his resentment of her continued insistence grew, and for a moment it seemed it would still end as these meeting always had. She had yielded space, but she was still here…and…..he….but she began to speak, and he for once, began to listen.
The truth came tumbling from her lips. Pouring forth things he had never even haunted upon. She was, it was sad to admit, right. To him, she was nothing but another piece…nothing more, but then…nothing less either. And she admitted it. She hardly knew him. After so many waltzed before him, swaying with sass their bold statements of knowing him, or of assuming such things (only one had ever asked to know him, and even then those efforts were wasting away, freezing in the north, by his fault and hers). None had ever admitted it…None had ever, from what he had heard, missed him either. None had ever expressed, worry. He had hoped to be needed, for surprise to take some. Deimos’s reaction had been at least a little savory, but there was something deeper here. Something even the gold’s thoughts could not pin down which pressed that notion harder into his chest. Harks twist to bend back, shifting from anger to some frozen thought. While she tumbled through her thoughts, the smooth and prideful held frame was paused, and in such, the illusion slipped.
And then she went on. And he listened. When in other times he begged for them to silence themselves. For them to be done, so he could lash out and free himself from their stares. But this…he actually listened.
Cal’s…..His mind stretches, pulling back to that day in the threshold. It was so long ago. So many ages….since he felt that way. Since he felt in control. Not the madness in which he rampaged through Helovia with weeks before, not the dark and dangerous cretin he had become in the months before that. But that proud secure being, with humor, laughter, and a mind free from ghosts and unwelcomed guests…he missed it.
Then she goes on her words tumbling forth but not pressing him as those of other do. Not shouting, or demanding, not even in comfort pushing, but laying bare all.….The words tumble out, the general proud speech trickling into darker depths, into confessions. And one gold hark lifts, while a freezing shiver rips down his spine, sucking away his breath as she spoke: ‘my first born child….’. “Wh-“ But his breath halts in its raising heights, legs shivering as she spoke about it. How could she-How could she so easily- Perhaps it wasn’t so easily, but yet she had just…Bewilderment was seeping into him as his earth eyes blinked and narrowed-surely he was mistaken and she-
All in the past. We can’t change that. Damn her! How could she be so calm! How could she talk about it as if was normal. As if those words did not have consequences for him….and her. ”Because she’s moved on.” The stag’s quiet voice whispered in gently, mournfully. But he got a hot reply. ”You DON’T move on from that.” It was bitter and laced with sharp edges of resentment. The stag dared to say no more. Yet as soon as he said it the crowned head falls away, this time he lets the silence seep in.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried. He tried to forget their faces. He tried to remove the lump in his throat whenever he went to speak their names. For many moonless nights he had tried to sleep. Yet every moment he closed his eyes he saw the faces haunt him again. The dark truths seep out, the blame resting squarely upon him. If had….If they didn’t….She could have….He tried. Yet he had always awoken alone, and worn. It had seeped into his skin, and the lack of sleep blurred the nights and days, darkening his memory. Those were dark days indeed. How he emerged on the other side was still some miracle. He found himself far from all he knew, and speaking in tongues he had not heard since before. He accepted it, and moved on, and that was how it had been ever since. Perhaps he hadn’t moved on….but he had tried, and he dared not try again.
A small bark from Haldir causes the gold to flinch back to the present. The resent was washed away yet again in the surrender to the truth. So newly pressed upon him it’s force was greater than before and he could not deny it. So when he looks back to the cream mare, with water still trailing down her, it is with some more tender lingering. This was different than other times. She had yielded space, and her words were of confession not accusation…from selfless, unwarranted concern. So it must be understood how strange it was when he looked up to her, with eyes still showing signs of sorting through his thoughts, that he looked to her and stepped towards her.
It was just one step, and he pauses soon after unsure. That had never happened before. His head tucking back again. For so long he had kept the even voiced thoughts so tightly bound within. Refusing to speak of them. Refusing to acknowledge them even within another. Yet, she had said….”Y-you” He seemed to struggle with the thought, as if his mind could not wrap around it. “You lost your child to-?” His lips open to say more. To speak a similarity, a condolence, an apology….something. But his lips had gone dry and his emotions pressed to tight in his throat. So as he stares upon the ground, trapped as he was, he only shivers and asks in a whisper of dull ache- “How?” He had changed her life, (a fact he still had yet to comprehend in all this), now she was changing his.
OOC:: <3
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@Rexanna
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
09-18-2016, 03:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-18-2016, 03:33 PM by Rexanna.
Edit Reason: i suck at tags lmfao
)
Now we’re both casualties in this
As the Thief spoke, she recalled everything that had happened on her escape. She remembered being stuck in that gilded cage, trapped and forced to tell the Blood Prince how she originated. Rexanna was young, she had no idea exactly how she grew up. The only thing the Thief fully remembered was being brought up a slave, forced to care for the King as his “prized” and the looks he had given her ever since she could remember. He had always hated her, yet asked for her specifically.
If only she knew then what she knows now.
But of course it was Calstron that had caused such a revelation. It was Calstron when she had been so excited, wanting to tell him that she was pregnant, that she was carrying their son, and another heir to the throne of Aciend. It was as if a veil had dropped upon her, as he pushed her into that stupid golden cage and used his magic to reveal her memories. And how exhausted she had been as he ravaged her mind, showing the glimpses of who she was born as, and why she had been hidden away. She was the product of an affair, and not the gift that the King of Halyven had promised Aciend, so of course they would pay for their wrongdoings.
Yet, not without a few beatings here and there. Her scars had healed from that time, but her mind hadn’t. She had grown wary, constantly over those with magic that dealt with the mind. How she was so young, escaping and running from a terrible nightmare only to land in the same place as he had. And of course, she did carry with her anger and frustration. As he had managed to find her here, how he held so much pride as he told her of his new lover, how he was friends with the King, and how he was having his happy ever after.
Something in her glazed her vision, yet she still stood strong. Her gaze never left Thranduil as he let the silence grow between them, as he took in the truth of her words. She wanted to step back, to give him more room in case of retaliation, yet her ears perked and head lifted ever so slightly as he stepped toward her. The water continued to drip from her pelt, lining the chains that had been a gift from the Blood Prince, a gift that she still wore despite everything that had happened – perhaps to be sure she never forgot.
“Y-you, you lost your child to-?” And he paused, her gaze softening upon him, losing the rage that perhaps had begun to grow at the thought of Calstron. It was replaced with a minute amount of sympathy as his words broke, his honesty breaking the surface in wanting to know how she lost her beloved child.
A frown found her lips as she looked away, lowering her head a tiny amount as her gaze fell to the floor. “It, well. It was a long time ago, now.” She began, shifting her weight. Marembo squeaked a tiny amount of encouragement to the gilded mare, helping her through the bond on how to actually speak of how it happened. She had grazed the surface with Adaeze, and even partially with Tembovu, but she’d never really gone into detail of what had happened. “You need to understand what happened where I’m from, first.” She figured, lifting her head to catch the earthy tones of the Laurelin. “I was, well, a gift to a neighboring Kingdom. A peace offering of war, really is what it was. They had said I was some sort of lost royalty, given to the Kingdom of Pegasi for the Prince there to wed, to make sure that they didn’t delve into Halyvens affairs too much. The King in my home was weak and had no children, so of course that sounded strange to Aciend.” She mulled over her thoughts, the images revealing themselves before her eyes as she spoke.
“I got there, to Aciend. The Prince seemed nice enough, Calstron is his name. He carried himself proudly, a strong build with blood red pelt and a stark white face. He was kind, but it was all a rouse.” She admitted to him. “Apparently he had a thing where he’d take women from pleasure houses, sleep with them and kill them before I was given to him.” She turned her gaze away as the words left her lips, retreating her head toward her chest and taking a few moments to regain her thoughts. “Anyway, I didn’t know about any of this. I just knew that my job was to get to know him, to bear his child. And so I did. I tried my best. Yet, the day I had realized I was pregnant Calstron came to me and trapped me within his end of the Kingdom. He had magic that could make you relive your memories, even if you yourself couldn’t remember them. That’s when he found out I wasn’t really royal.” Her gaze lifted from the floor to look in Thranduil’s general direction, but continued to seem distant. “I was beaten pretty bad by him. I had a rib or two I was sure was broken, but I didn’t think anything had happened to the child. I was still punished, though. He tied me to the flag as they marched into my homeland to burn it to the ground and make the King pay for his lies.”
“I managed to escape, though. I did my best to make my way here to Helovia, but a few months before I arrived I had to give birth.” She paused again, taking deep breaths and lightly biting down on her pale lip. “He didn’t make it.” The words escaped her lips as the ghost of a whisper. “I stayed for three days hoping he might breathe, but he never did.” She shook her head, as if she had been trying to remove the memory. “I wanted him to live, despite everything Calstron had done. He was beautiful and I’m sure he would’ve been kind, unlike his father. But he never got the chance, and I – I never got the chance to see what it’d be like.” She stuttered, stammering over her words. “I didn’t even name him, Thranduil. I was too distraught, too terrified to be found there and blamed for killing my son.” Sadness and darkness both glimmered in the distant look in her sapphire gaze. Rexanna shook her head once more, turning her head away from him as she tried to push the memories away as they came flooding back. “I tried everything I could, but he had been gone long before I could know.” She admitted, staring off into the darkness of the cave as thunder cracked from above. “But don’t let that stop you.” She began, straightening up as her anger and frustration began to billow in her chest like a wildfire.
“Even though something terrible happened, such as that for example, don’t let it stop you from moving on. They’ll understand when you meet them one day - I know my son will understand when I meet him again.”
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
|
image | coding
@Thranduil <333
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
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He hangs, half way committed to the question he posed, and half way already backing away. As the word left his lips, he trembles upon it, caught in the sudden questioning of why he had had to ask that question. Why his mind (or heart?) had reached for more, when it could barely handle the simple vagueness. Why was he searching for something more in this dark well of hopeless remembrance? There would not be anything there. Nothing would await him at its end. That he already knew. These stories don’t have happy endings, they don’t have morals and lessons. They are nothing but burdens, cast upon a back like burns upon a criminal, marking forever the wrong deeds of the past. He of all should have known, that questioning such marks never went well.
So why had he asked the gold could not say. He was not one to willingly share pain. His own memories were too guarded for that, though it was clear the watch was slipping. Perhaps in some ideal world, he thought to hear another would easy his own words. Or perhaps, more than likely, the bitterness had taken hold, and wanted to see her pay for those words so carelessly spoken. To remind her just what consequences they held.
As he watches her face fall, and the confidence blur into deeper lines upon her face as she begins. His body was frozen still, the illusion of normality he had (barely) possessed only moments was gone. Whatever the reason for asking such a thing of her, it was clear the answer was well awaited. A squeak causes the gold to jerk, and he looks to the shadows by the wall. He finds Haldir and some unfamiliar shape. The moon eyes though are on the cream mare as she begins, and his attention easily turns fully back to her. Haldir, glances back to the gold. He wasn’t watching the cream mare really. No, his eyes were only ever on his bonded, waiting, with baited breath. They had never gone this….far before. In all the reruns of these times, this was new, and the stag didn’t know yet whether to trust it or not.
With a steady, yet ever growing distant again gaze, the gold watches and listens. As she meets his eyes he does not turn away. An unusual patience settled in over him as he let her begin from the beginning. Let her explain, and describe the world she hailed from. Even as she paused the stallion did not interrupt, but nor did he move, forward or backward. Instead his eyes watched her. Watched her mull and confess. Watched her breath deep and look away. He did not revel in her discomfort, but nor did he offer her any escape. Instead, the gold only watched and listened….until…
Her head tucked to her chest, and the earth eyes follow, as she pause he looks on, yet finds there upon her a mark which he had missed before. A dark mark…a fresh mark…His eyes jerk back to hers as she speaks, but its with more unease now. If the past was so much so in the past, then what business had it in marking her coat in the present? It rose in confliction with his other thoughts as his head was becoming for the first time, too full of thoughts. As it spun in its usual mayhem, but now crashed into itself and roared out of control. The gold turned away, his constant gaze on her falling away, but ever as her soft voice carried over the distant rain, he listened.
She pauses, her words biting her own story now as her story climaxes. Even turned aside as he was, trapped in all the chains about him, he heard every breath of a whisper. In those moments, snitches he echoes…Three days…she had three days with it. Jealousy. Beautiful, ever so beautiful. Resentment. Not even a name-At his own name the gold flinches turning away bitterly. The venom of jealousy, resentment, and grief seeping into his skin once more. How long could this go on? How much longer could his body, his heart take this constant flux of despair and anger?
But don’t let that stop you. Harks pin down as the conversation shifted. The words were brighter now, charged, and echoing. She tumbles out her words fast now. And his storm within rises to a furious pitch. He wanted to let it crash. He didn’t have much strength left to hold it, and the idea of letting go…To let all the whipping winds drop their charges, to let the clothes which he clung to so tightly fall away in relief. He wanted to kneel. He wanted to confess. He wanted to morn. But he was the golden. And in the world which he lived, that option was never given to him.
A cloven hoof slams into the rock, but its force was weakened in its muteness. These stories don’t have morals. They are not meant to lift and comfort. Not for him.
“I won’t meet him.” It hissed, full of all that whirled inside of him. His hide began to tremble. Sideways to her, his face turns away fully from view, as the words lowered their dark charge. The bitter dead tones, speaking unasked, but flinging out from the whirlwind that was his head. “I don’t know his face.” His eyes, for the first time in years, grew hot and swollen as he clutched at the thin cloth across his body, feeling the scars underneath. He felt the broken skin…the jagged edges…. “Neither would she.” She was already gone whe- Eyes blink as a hot tear rolls down the line of jaw, burning in its cold touch. And the storm collapses in on itself.
He spins, his head tossing high, and eyes burning as the tears still press hot and many within them. “In the past? Move on?!” Her own words fly back at her, pitched and roaring with vicious venom. In the corner, Haldir shrinks from their echo. “You may know what pain is but you are blind as all the rest.” He hissed lower. The dark stag’s own eyes cloud as he sees the usual pattern return. As he sees the flames lashing out, and sees there source lies in nothing bearing her name. He can only beg, ”Not her, no, not this, not now-“ but he’s ignored above the roar in the gold’s own head. “Profess not the tired doctrine of moving on, when so clearly your nightmare ever follows and marks you.” His head tilts and in so motions to her shoulder. His dagger is thrown, but it’ll soon land in his own breast.
“You are just as weak as the rest. Painting yourself in the false hopes and promises of tomorrows.” His accusation went on, tearing out into the quiet cavern unyieldingly. Yet it was the last furious burst before the end. “There is not moving on.” He was losing the battle though, another tear rolls down his cheek. Yet he was not yielding. “There is no one day!” He was not ready to given in. He would fight every step of the way. To prove it, he tears the gold cloth covering those scars from his back. “Arwen is dead!” He breaks higher, reaching its peaks as he steps forward again, the whites in his eyes beginning to roll. Perhaps he was going mad. Perhaps he would die at this furious height. Though promises had been made against it, that sweet embrace seemed so promising. “And my son without a name or grave!” The voice began to crack, its harsh words now breaking with the bitter razor edges of confession. “Gone Rexanna.” And if he let them go….they’d be gone completely from this world.
His limbs shook threateningly, but he still held. His voice darker but just as cutting. “You pathetic child of hope.” The pain pressed so hot in his throat the insults rise again. To hiss them brought support to his own agony. “You, like all the rest, still ever know nothing.” Lies, but another tear rolls down his cheek. He wavered, but he was fully in the storm’s grip and in it he would stay till there was no more. “Do not show me your scars and pretend they do not ache every night.” That there wasn’t ever still some whole in her chest burning.
Then it was gone. His hinds gave first and he fell back to the floor, his white rimmed eyes rolling and shutting away as ever last ounce of strength failed. Oblivious to all around him. The strong storm was but a whisper now. “Do not pretend the nightmares ever end.” And the last thread was cut. About him the gold cloth which had for so many years covered those ridged scars lay in tatters. And within him was an exhaustion he hadn’t known for many an age. Darkness was calling him, and for once he flirted with the edge. For once its pitch black damask didn’t seem so cold and uninviting. Another tear trailed down his cheek. After all, within its dark halls, there would be no one to see him grieve.
Only now did Haldir move, only now did he dare intervene. He whined ever softly, as he tossed his head toward the still deathly silent golden, never more frustrated that he, in this life, could not speak as them. Now. He wanted to beg. Now it was done. For the first time, the gold’s vicious tirade at left him winded and empty. She couldn’t give space now, don’t give him what he seeks. The words tumbled through his mind, but all it could come across in was a soft mellow whine and stare.
OOC:: He's not dying, just wiped from the emotional rollercoaster which as become his life...
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@Rexanna
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
Now we’re both casualties in this
Part of her was surprised that he stopped to listen – that he stayed silent and quiet, watchful over her words and expressions as she let her past slip from her, crossing over the threshold to the Laurelin in her own troubles and conquers. And as such, she told him the story, his silence growing ever stronger but his eyes still dark and watching until she came to the conclusion of her story. Her gaze followed him, watching him in return as his harks pinned down. Hers, in turn, did the same – uncertain of what Thranduil might begin to say. Her words had struck a chord, and she knew that despite the words he wanted to hear – she knew that she had moved on, and nothing would take that away.
He could yell at her, condemn her, fight her all he wanted, but she would know that she had the inner strength to look toward the future. She wouldn’t let him tear her down from everything she had built up. And as Thranduil’s words left his lips, she returned the silence. ”I won’t meet him. I don’t know his face.” Part of her wanted to tell him it was a good thing, that he wouldn’t have to see the face in its haunting gaze of a piece of her and a lover that was never to be. But Calstron hadn’t really ever been her lover – and perhaps that’s how it was so easy for the gilded siren to move on. She had lost a child, but she hadn’t lost her true love. And perhaps part of her wondered if this conversation would be better suited for Tembovu – as she recalled his words of burying his baby and his lover during the siege of his homeland.
Yet, she stayed silent until he began to insult her. Ears pinned harder to her skull as she lifted her exotic face, stepping once toward him. “You are blind as all the rest.” Her gaze narrowed on the shadow of the Laurelin. He continued on, speaking of the mark that she wore from Calstron, of the hopes and promises she had tried to show him burned and crumbled beneath her at her feet. He spoke of no moving on, and Rexanna fervently disagreed. But she waited, she waited until his tirade was over. Until he would no longer be able to stand her company. Yet, the only way she knew that would happen is if he were to leave himself.
She was far too stubborn to be the one to leave after these insults.
“Do not show me your scars and pretend they do not ache every night.” Rexanna’s head lifted higher, hearing the distrust, anger, and inevitable exhaustion that left his golden lips as he spoke to her. She took one more step toward him until he continued on, and then fell. Her brows furrowed, but she could understand. She wasn’t going to rush to his side. He needed to deal with this himself, without her words trying to comfort him. But she knew, she would stay and tell him how much he was wrong about her – about her events and how she wished everything hadn’t happened to him – but if it hadn’t, would he really be who he was today? Would he be proud of who he was?
Instead, her eyes stayed glued to the Laurelin as a sound began to move from behind her. Marembo squeaked lightly to Rexanna as Haldir moved to her. He whined, tossing his head toward the gilded man in his silent state. Her gaze drifted toward the little deer, compassion crossing the anger that had bubbled within her breast. Lowering her head, she aimed to press her muzzle gently to Haldir’s nose before stepping over into the shadows of the cave as the lightning and rain continued to move on outside.
“You couldn’t be more wrong, Thranduil.” She began, his exhaustion keeping him still. She only hoped he’d be forced to listen. “I am not blind. But my story isn’t yours. It sounds like you really loved her.” She began, her words soft as she looked toward the gilded man. “And that’s where we differ. You loved her, you two were supposed to have a child – and yet, it didn’t happen.” She began, trying to sum up her understanding of the situation. “I’ve moved on because I didn’t love Cal. I loved my son, I did.” She admitted, turning her head slightly away from the still Laurelin on the cavern floor. “But I will not stand by and let you condemn me for moving on. I will not let you destroy the pillars I had made for myself.” Her voice was strong, but it wasn’t filled with anger. “I know many things, Laurelin. My scars ache every night. I’m forced to live in a land where the nightmare of my past had followed me, scaring me and marking me as his for punishment of killing his son.” Her gaze flickered back to him. “The nightmares never end, but what good is it in wallowing in what should have been. This is life and whether you like it or not, Thranduil, the world keeps moving. It keeps spinning and people keep living their lives, unaffected by the trauma you’ve endured.” She lowered her head to him, her muzzle hovering above his ear.
“It’s up to you whether or not you want to keep living in the past. But think of this, would your lover and son be proud of who you are now?”
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
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image | coding
@Thranduil <3
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
09-25-2016, 10:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-25-2016, 10:34 PM by Thranduil.)
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His world shifted in fogs of whites and blacks, as ever he let his shuttering soul flirt with the dark halls of escape. Even Haldir’s careful whispers did gain a response. So total was his exhaustion, he lay without movement beyond his shallow breaths. His total energy spent, and his scars burning against his skin as if they were fresh. The chains with each tied to him finally more than he could carry. For years bearing them had lended him strength, but now, they were simply too great. Haldir looked on, his worried moon eyes trembling uneasily. To Rexanna’s assurances he sighed, and held his place, but still uneasiness clutched his chest.
In this state, he was, as she hoped, powerless. In totally still mind, ever such a rarity, her words slip in without resistance. He really loved her? Inward his heart pangs. Love. Ever called a strength but look what that ‘real love’ did. Look where it left him….
She questions him, her breath rolling over his poll, and brushing the white mane for his leafen star. ‘Would your lover and son be proud of you….’ His face grimaces, the first outward reaction he gives. “Her name was Arwen.” His voice wavers, but holds, correcting her. Slowly his head lifts, but they stare blindly forward. “She was a royal. I was an advisors son, marred by the blood of a soldier. I was meant to keep silent and do as told. Nothing more.” A faint distant laugh left his lips like a ghost.
They came up the hill, the still frail colt exhausted by the effort. The chestnut Valkyrie was ever giving though, and her warm breath rolls over his poll in encouragement. Yet she shrinks back at the coming form. ‘You’re late.’ Came the harsh sire’s voice. The golden colt’s face contorts as he meets for the first time, his father.
The golden son trundled after his father into the wooded ring. He does not trip with worry, or duck his head in reverence, oh no. His mother was the Fire Valkyrie. He was her son, and her fire lived in him. So his head held high he steps among the judging and condescending eyes.
‘Finally Celeborn.’ Came the booming tongue of the black stallion at the head of the gathering. The Lord, Edrahil, his mother had coached him. He was to have a small chat with the Lord where he would be welcomed, then he could go find his brother.
But this was the moment, this was the hour. The small colt’s chest rose. ‘The drought continues to worsen. What news do my advisors bring of it?’ The gold chest fell. Wait…he was supposed? The child looked to his father, but the cremello’s head was turned away, speaking on about the shrinking lake.
‘Fath-‘ But a tasseled tail flicked his rump. Harks pin back as he looked around the council and all ignored the small colt. Milk teeth gritted and his small nose gave a snort. ‘I am Thranduil.’ The voice spoke volumes above what the calm others, and the meeting silenced.
The colt wavered and he looked back to his mother but he could not see her, for she had turned away in shame. But he was not afraid. ‘I am of Celeborn the Wise, and Tauriel the Fire Valkyrie.’ At her name the faces of shock turn sour. ‘I am Thranduil the golden son. And I will be recognized.’
Celeborn looked back to his son in angered regret, but the colt’s eyes were only on the Lord. All was silence for several long seconds, but the colt did not yield to the steel gaze. ‘Celeborn.’ The Lord’s harsh voice cut through and the cremello ducked his head. ‘You’d do well to teach this son his place.’ Celeborn’s eyes burned with rage. ‘Yes m’lord. Go Thranduil.’ The gold colt turned, and with a light proud trot, left.
“We met at her mother’s funeral…”
The golden face frowned to see the small white child struggle. Her shell so fragile and see through. His mind tossed uneasily, and then an idea crept into his head. He stepped from the circle of grievers back into the shadows.
The gold shadow slipped behind her dashing from her head the small trinket of a crown. Tossing it on his he stepped up to greet her. The dull gold eyes rose to the next passer, and then her head tilts. Her eyes catch a familiar object on his head, and despite herself she giggles.
“…we fell in love at my mother’s.”
The small thicket was finally silent. The colt tangled within had no tears and sobs left. It was only then she stepped forward, her steps light and her touch on his shoulder gentle. He jerks but sees her and despite what he thought, the tears press hot again. The girl lowers to him, her white mane falling over him as she curled around him.
When he calmed again, she nudged him. ‘Oracle will know.’ For she, in her fresh grief too, did not. But the wise storyteller would. The small gold head nodded, and she untangled him from the web of vines, and they stumbled through the night to the Storyteller’s cave.
“I promised her to be there forever….”
‘Arwen, I don’t understand!’ The raging white mare paused in her storming away, and spun on him. ‘DO NOT pretend to deny it Thranduil.’ Her bitterness brought tears to her eyes, and a fear drove a stake into his heart. Was this the end of it? ‘I saw how you look at Nellas. I know you two still meet at Oracles! You traitor! You bas-‘ He feels each blow of the knife in his chest. ‘Arwen!’ She goes on, standing there, her tears flowing freely. ‘I won’t have it, I know you love her!‘ ‘Only as a sister Arwen!’ ‘LIAR!’ She yells and storms on. In the shadows the small shape hidden in the grove collapse in silent tears.
‘Arwen stop!’ She goes on and the gold grows more determined. He surges forward, his hooves picking up quick and slide before her to halt her rampage. Blinded by her tears she crashes into him, her words still muttering insults. He stands there, and lets her, his shield taking her beating till finally…’Arwen…’ A broken sob chokes out. ‘Do y-you Thranduil…’ His leafen stared head falls over her neck, pulling her towards him. ‘Arwen, you know I love you.’ She pulls back her eyes still accusing him. ‘But do you promise.’ His head tilts in his confusion as she goes on. ‘Do you promise to always love me. Only me. No matter what.’ As possessive as he was, she ever his equal. The gold’s face contorts but not in regret or anguish, but in the seriousness of the love they bore. ‘I swear Arwen…’ His voice breaks, flowing freely with the smooth love. ‘I will always love you, and you alone.’
“…and she promised me.”
‘What will we do!’ Her voice wailed, it white hide shook with the fear of the idea. But the gold was too angry to comfort her. ‘Why is he doing this!? He knows you would not consent!’ The pure mare’s face lights up, with shock and fear. ‘Nellas….’ The gold turns to her in suspicion. ‘Nellas must have told him about…’ Her voice broke and she could not finish. Thranduil’s eyes glazed. She betrayed them?
Finally, the pure mare’s voice broke the silence. ‘I can’t-I WON’T.’ Her hoof stomped but the gold finally looked to her in pity. ‘You must…’ Came his whispered reply. The gold eyes turned to him, and she broke at last into tears, ran to him, and buried her head into his chest. ‘Thranduil I-‘ But he hushes her, and pulls from her, his eyes leveling to hers. ‘Arwen you must. But. Do you love me?’ Her face grows serious, but he goes on. ‘Will you love me and only me. No matter what.’ She silent for a second and then her heart breaks. ‘I will always love you, and you alone.’ She repeats. ‘Then nothing will stand in our way.’ The threat trembled behind it and for the first time all day the girl smiles. He steps forward again, nibbling at her withers…and the world fades to black….
“Then she became pregnant-“ His voice shivered. “With my son.”
The strange wildlife, so foreign, scattered as he lead the soldiers through the jungle. He was still raging inwardly as he followed the trail. It had been too long. He should have been allowed to search months ago. He shouldn’t have sent those idiotic fools of spies. They wouldn’t be able to find a haystack let alone the needle. But the Lord had commanded…and enforced the command with guards and chains. Thranduil was not to search. Fool! It was as if he’d rather see his daughter die in her missing status than let the two be near each other. He should have been here months ago, to search when the trail was still fresh, perhaps she would still be- The gold silenced the clattering soldiers behind him. Something was stirring just ahead and…’Go I heard something at the rear.’ The soldiers grumbled, they were tired of being bossed around by the bastard, but they went.
Alone, the gold stepped ahead and into the small clearing. Laying peacefully at the edge, glowing in radiant white, ‘Arwen.’ The mare’s head jerks, fearful, but at seeing the golden son, she smiles, and stands. Her stomach rises, swollen and large. The gold’s heart caught in his throat as she gleams at him. He rushes towards her. ‘Thranduil….’ But she’s cut short. The small battalion of steel rushed from the side (having ignored his orders). The white mare grows fearful, as the horns level around her blocking her in, but threatening- ‘BACK AWAY!’ A voice roared above the clinking armor. The troops look, but with growls in their throats. ‘You’ll not touch her.’ The gold closes the last few steps, the soldiers giving room, not daring to move against the gold openly. ‘You’ll not harm her….or my child.’ He sides next to her, the two touching noses as the grumbles and hisses surround them.
“The council and Lord were furious…”
’Celeborn!’ It yelled across the hills, joyful and light. ‘Father!’ That name had not accompanied it though for many years. The cremello stallion looked up annoyed. ‘Did you fi-‘ But the gold cut him off. ‘Celeborn, I’m to be a father!’ The elder stallion grumbles as he turns to the halting youth. ‘You wha-‘ Then his face falls blank, and pale. His voice shakes. ‘By who..’ The gold was still too high to notice it. ‘Arwen father. Don’t you see!’ He laughs, blind to his father’s horror. ‘Celeborn. We do not have to ally with the Algiers now we-‘ But Celeborn had recovered. ‘Silence!’ Now it was the gold’s turn to let his face fall. ‘Cele-‘ But the cremello had recovered. ‘How dare you!’ A guarded woundedness strikes the youth, and he steps back. ‘How dare you, you little sh-
“ I was to be banished.”
The council stood around him, their faces taunt and firm, but the gold’s was a match for any, as he glared at the cremello beside the black Lord as he spoke. ‘And so for your crime, as ruled by this council, you are hereby banished from this land and that of our allies, from this day till your last.’ The gold did not flinch, instead he hissed back, his eyes never leaving the cream figure. ‘Is this a unanimous decision?’ The face of Celeborn grimaces with anger. ‘It is.’ The adviser hissed.
Finally the gold’s head snaps to the Lord. ‘I will not yield.’ The council stirs and the Lord nods his head. Armor could be heard clinking at the gate to the ring. The gold was not phased. ‘I challenge for Arwen, to those who may claim her.’ His earth eyes buried into the old black’s. An eruption of murmurs and whispers rises, and the Lord’s old frame trembles with rage. The cremello at his side steps forward, his voice hissing. ‘ Silence!’ The whispers cease. ‘You dare challenge your dying Lord. The one to whom you owe everything.” The soldiers now appeared, and filled in the small clearing around the gold, but his eyes never met them. It snaps to the adviser, his chest rising and his mind set. ‘I do.’ The whispers roar louder, but Celeborn hissed in anger, and disbelief. ‘Then you are no longer my son.’ The face of the gold did not flinch. Celeborn’s rose higher. ‘I absolve all connection, protection, and allegiance to you.’ The face of the gold only grows more vicious. ‘You never showed any.’ The cremello turns and the soldiers close in.
“I fought it. I fought for her against the one who held her claim…”
‘I don’t understand m’lord…’ Said the weary advisor, the lines on his face never more drawn. The aged Lord Edrahil turned to him, his own face exhausted. ‘Three days Celeborn. The Algierian prince will be here in three days.’ The Lord’s face twists to a smile. ‘If….if the challenge is not set till then…he has the claim over Arwen’s hand.’ The cremello’s face sobers with the realization. Instead of battling the elder Lord, Thranduil would be matched, or rather clearly outmatched by an Algerian (Pegasus) Prince. His face contorted, as the last lingering wisps of pale love leave his heart. ‘He needs to be taught a lesson. I consent.’
“....but I didn’t have a chance.”
’THRANDUIL!’ Her voice screamed across the jeering field, the only one of care. ‘GET UP! PLEASE!’ The golden crumbled shape, shakily rises, though his head is low and his balance wavers, his limbs unable by break or strain to hold him. ‘Silence daughter!’ The Lord, shaking and panting with emotion, turns to her as the massive Pegasus lands beside the gold, shaking the earth. ‘You are here to see the consequences of your actions, not to cause a scene. Take her away.’ The guards at the shrieking mare’s swollen sides push her own. Her tear stained head fights to see, but they shove her own.
The massive bay stallion fans his wings, his own sides barely marked. His head rises high, his heart feeling the satisfying justice of crushing his soon to be bride’s villain, who stole her and all her virtue (or so he had been told). It was supposed to be to the end. And he would see it so. Wings lift him off, his hooves brushing the gold’s back as he swings overhead, and the subtle touch knocks the gold to the ground. ‘THRANDUIL!’ But he does not stir.
The massive cretin of the sky circles at a height and turns, diving, hooves outstretched. ‘NO!’ A flash of white. The bay pulls up.
Bay, Gold, and White collide.
“She-.” The distant earth eyes turn back to the cream and gold mare. “She took the last blow...“ His voice strains but lies dead and his eyes pull back away, shutting. “She and he.” He falls into silence, and the long second tick by and only the distant thunder sounds, before he speaks again. “ For it I was to be executed…by ruling of the council.” His voice grew bitter as the scenes of his nightmare move on. “Called for by my own father. It didn’t matter though…” The bitterness drops as quickly as it had come. “There was nothing left there.” His sides shuttered in a sigh, the exhaustion relieved ever so slightly as the burden lifted from his shoulders, even if temporarily.
A shadow moves forward. The dark stag, having heard the tale before, creeps forward. His head is low and his heart heavy, but it beats with the unending love between he and his bonded. Yet it flutters, uncertain of this action, but his goes on. His small frame coming to his and at his side, lowering beside it. The gold shifts to feel the warmth, but he eases. The stag’s legs tuck close and he watches the pair ever closely. It wakens the gold, and his earth eyes open once more.
“What do you want of me Rexanna….” It is low, still buried in exhaustion and grief. “To let them go?” His voice cracks, breaking with the thought. “Rexanna….the world spun on. It has let them go forgotten.” Even now the world was pushing upon the next figurines. A rosen one. Even now his heart, tainted by this spinning world, tainted by the span of years, felt awake because of her. Because of Hotaru. “If I leave the past…” If his heart fully leaves the past. “…they’ll die.” The warped reality was at last revealed. Twisted and mangled as it was by grief. The reason he had clung onto that grief for so long, the reason his attempts to get over them had failed, and the reason his scars still burned to hot a fresh had at last been revealed.
OOC::<333
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@Rexanna <33
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
Now we’re both casualties in this
She hovered over him, almost like a mother would do with her upset child. That was her position in this, her instinct that drew her to him like a moth to a flame. His face twitched with her words, her eyes growing softer – almost apologetic at having said the words she did. It wouldn’t stop her, though. She needed to learn the situation from him, and he needed to learn how to move on and let go. And when he began to speak, his voice quivered. “Her name was Arwen.” She wanted so badly to tell him that she knew the name, but she refrained. She didn’t want him to think that the nightmares of his own had caused him to utter the name in a frenzy, a frantic sputtering of words in his unconscious state. And so, she stood and listened, lifting her head a bit away from him but keeping her attention glued to the Laurelin that lay in pure exhaustion in front of her.
He began to speak further, his head lifting but blindly staring as he informed her his previous position from another life. And Rexanna did what she knew best, stay silent and wait. The Thief nodded along here and there with his words, understanding a similar situation that she herself had endured, yet he continued on. He filled her in, speaking words and breaks, and breathless phrases that she knew exhausted him mentally and physically. She cared for Thranduil, the gilded siren did. And she cared that he was confiding these truths to her. Rexanna would never find the correct words to tell him how much she would appreciate this. And as the story grew further and further along, and the words slipped his lips of being pregnant with his son, her eyes creased ever so slightly in concern. The azure orbs trailing over the gilded man with the leaf-like star.
His words painted a picture in the mare’s mind, imagining things the best she could to understand where he was coming from. Yet, it all came back around when his distant gaze turned to her. Her head lowered to him to look upon his face as he continued, his voice straining and pain evident as the words left his lips. ‘She took the last blow…’ Her brows furrowed and sadness crossed her gaze, dropping them from the view of the Gold. She didn’t even know where to begin. She wanted to tell him anything that would help, but her words failed. They ripped themselves off of the paper and dove into the fires. With that, she realized, no matter what she could say, it wouldn’t help like she wanted them to. She wanted to tell him that she understood – but she didn’t. She wanted to tell him that she’d be there for him, but she knew she couldn’t possibly stand by his side forever for him to confide into. She wanted to tell him that she’d never let anyone hurt him again – but how could she be sure she, too, wouldn’t be breaking a promise?
Her gaze barely returned to him, a mere whisper across his body as it shuddered. However, Rexanna’s gaze lifted as Haldir approached and settled by Thranduil. Marembo tried his best to shake the water from his pelt before creeping across the earthen floor to his bonded side. His little blue gaze surveying the pair on the ground, the sadness reflecting from Rexanna’s own heart to the tiny beating one in the polecat.
“What do you want of me Rexanna?” A frown found her lips. She didn’t know, and that was partly what hurt her more. “To let them go?” His voice cracks, and her ears flicker back. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him slightly, shaking her head ever so slightly.
“If I leave the past… They’ll die.”
She moved closer to him, her head returning to the view of the Laurelin. Her ears pressed forward, tipping toward the gilded man. Her exotic lined face lowered further, aiming to press the bridge of her nose into the side of his neck. “I just want you to be happy.” Her voice was a whisper on the wind, barely audible over the thunderous crack from the storm outside. It rumbled and argued, fighting the winds and clouds as she did her best to keep a composure for him. She didn’t know his story until now – likewise, he didn’t know her story until now. Perhaps this is what they were, simply broken stories with torn bindings and words bleeding into one another, just waiting for the right person to come along and try to fix their broken pieces. Deep down, it would never be fixed. You could replace the binding, reprint the pages, give it a happy ending, but the book would still know that things aren’t always as they seem. And perhaps that was the part that hurt the most.
“They’ll never leave, Thranduil.” She began, bringing her head back to her own space. “No matter what you do, they’re always going to be there. A little ghost in the back of your mind.” She paused. “I’m asking you to not let them haunt you. It would’ve been beautiful, that other life. Arwen would have had a beautiful son, you would have been a father, and even though it didn’t happen like that I want you to imagine it.” She began to stutter, faltering in her words ever so slightly. Her head shifted away from him once more as her knees bent to allow her to lie beside him once again, Marembo coming up to the Thief’s neck and settling there as she turned her head to Thranduil. “You can find love, make a life for yourself, and keep them there. You have to stop blaming yourself.” her voice was soft, laced with concern – as if she were telling him the words that she needed to hear for herself. “If you had a chance to speak with them again, what would they say when you told them you’ve spent the entire time since they’ve been gone blaming yourself and trying to write the wrongs off your list?” She questioned, ears flickering backward in uncertainty. “Would Arwen want you to move on, or spend the rest of your life tormenting yourself?” She asked quietly.
Turning her head away from him again, her gaze found the darkened corners of the cave. “I tried to spend all this time after leaving Halyven and Aciend blaming Calstron for everything that happened to me – yet I couldn’t. I blamed myself for never being good enough, never being what he wanted. And I constantly chastise myself for being the reason my son died. And yet, I came to Helovia and tried to turn my life around, and when Calstron came here and marked me – he was in a frenzy. He could’ve killed me, and he didn’t. He chose to torment me instead.” She paused, her gaze flickering to the dusty floor. “I’ve had children since my miscarriage. Three of them. He even put me into an early labor with my set of twins.” A frown found her lips. “I could’ve died there too, and you know what he told me after it? He told me he ’found somebody new, someone he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with’.” Sapphire orbs grew harder as she turned to look to Thranduil. “There’s no justice in this world. I’m beginning to accept that fact. I want you to join me in trying to do better than what happened in the past.” Her voice was soft as a sigh passed through her cream lips.
“I won’t let you forget about Arwen and your son. I won’t let them die, Thranduil. Only if you promise me that you’ll stop punishing yourself.”
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
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image | coding
@Thranduil <3
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
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Earth eyes star blindly forward. They were not here, not in this place. They instead danced among the shadows on the way, grown large by the dull glow of the trees about them. In the shadows he drifted, helplessly carried by his imagination, by the ghosts which ruled there. He had no more defenses. The roaring storm, the hurricane within his mind had fallen to pieces on the floor, like shattered glass in his hands. He could not distract himself from the sway of the darkest thoughts. He could not box them up, or push them off to other reasons. They were here. Just as his robes were shredded before the gilded mare’s eyes, so too were those he veiled the faces in. The veils of lies, of devotion. In those tender moments where he nursed the pain, where he pulled the white ghost forward, he had kept the truth in her eyes covered in the promises of the forever that could never be. Now those too were torn away.
A warm touch comes against his neck, and words whisper in, but the gold is caught in the crosshairs of the consequences of his reveal. He had pulled away the shroud to show the gilded mare, and now he too had to look upon her deathly face. Is this how she hoped to achieve his happiness? A bitter choke held his tongue. And all the rest was muted in his exhaustion. Only the earth eyes, captivated by the shadows beyond twisted, narrowing. The breath against his neck rolls again as she speaks, and he listens. The world too gone and dead to rise up any more walls against words, against thoughts, and against feelings.
Her words do not give immediate ease. Like alcohol it stings as she pours them over. But he was could not pull away, he could not rise to leave or lash out as he had done so many others. When all others had turned and left with wounded prides, she was staying. She alone was actually taking on the burden to ease his. Painful though it was for the both of them. Rarely do you feel how heavy your burden is until it is temporarily lifted. And the sudden rush of relief is often greeted with dread at knowing it would soon descend again.
At father the first sign of life comes through and the gold flinches. But he listens ever still. His world moved at another speed, and within a blink she was no longer standing. Earth eyes confused leave the shadow world to see her next to him, lying beside him, her face turning back to him. His eyes meeting hers. Revealing just how fragile the little life his had left in this truth telling soul he had. They are ever distrustful, but now that all had been pulled away the weaknesses, and scars revealed their claims to any strength were clearly false. She goes on and his eyes narrow, but at the sound of her name, Arwen’s name, from another’s lips, the gold can’t hold the gaze any longer. His head drops to the side and away. It was the first time he had heard it in so long. And it, cloaked in a foreign accent of another, lost in a land far from where it belonged, was like the writing upon a tombstone. Another nail in a coffin.
He dared not answer he question, but he was helpless to reject it and all it caused. What would Arwen want…It almost made him smile, but for the agony of reality. Arwen was just as jealous as he. Her love just as violent and possessive. His fingers reached out to the ghost, tracing the cold cheeks and lips. Hearing in his ears just how hot her temper would is- was…Another nail slammed unforgivingly into the windowed coffin. She wouldn’t have wanted any of this. That is beside the point. New thoughts come sweeping in under the guise of the one beside him. It did happen…Another nail in the wood. Arwen had been ever the ruler of his heart…but had she wanted him to be happy? When she stood over him, or when she pulled him to the side to sneak into some outlandish plot, had it been as selfish as he always imagined…or more. The tables then turned on him. He had done so for her. He had promised her the world to see her smile…was she the same. “Yes.” The gold head drops slightly more, the lids of his eyes growing heavy.
The last wisps which held his head up and his mind rolling were fading. So he listened still as she went on. Some faint smoke of reaction stirs in his chest at her continued tale. Some pity….some anger…but they were all yet nothing but faint airs in this state. Nothing to react on, or move with. It dragged is soul slightly deeper in the mud….to be so helpless.
There’s no justice in the world. Harks flick. There was only the justice you could make. But his body was beyond words. Her head turns to him and his gaze flicks to her. Her words like an outstretched hand reaching to pull him from this tangled web of brokenness. Arwen’s name cuts through him again, but so does her promise. The tired head tilts. She would….The idea fogs his senses. But then…he doesn’t try to fan it away. He doesn’t run through it…
Promises were fickle things, and no one knew that more so than the gold. “I don’t know if I-” It was so instinctive, so reactionary. To nurse the scars, to hide them but prick the skin to feel still the nerves they wounded…it was all the gold had ever thought he wanted. The idea of carrying such things, but no longer remembering their sting sounded….impossible. But Rexanna. A long sigh shuttered out from him, the last of everything he could give. There were other futures waiting….Other figures slipping around the hallowed halls of his mind. And he wanted to let them in. To give rest at the vigilance he kept over the now revealed cold body. To at least let another take a turn in guarded a piece of his lost heart. So it came as a whisper, a last breath. “I need you...” His eyes closed, and his head dropped to her knees, resting there if she allowed. He body going limp against hers. He had to try…for there was no going on like this. He couldn’t keep up like this. "I'll try." It was a promise it could not keep...at least not alone.
The gold fell asleep as he allowed for the first time, another to take the midnight watch.
OOC::<333
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@Rexanna <33
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
| World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None
Skylark |
Now we’re both casualties in this
It was silent as she spoke, a resounding vibration of her voice as it bounced from the cavern walls, muffled and hardly heard from beyond the opening with the storm that rang outside. Thranduil had nothing to add for the moment, and perhaps that was for the better as she explained her experience, as she tore open the stitches that covered her chest and offered him her secrets and reasons why she was like she was, laying them on a golden platter for only him to see. There was tension in the air, an almost tangible feeling as she spoke to him, but it wasn’t the gut wrenching horrible tension (at least not for her), it was more of a feeling of making sure she said the right things. Though as her gaze raked over his exhausted gilded body, she figured he’d have no energy to dispel in arguing with her.
She spoke his ex-lovers name and let her eyes trail over his weathered body. They were able to share in this, to share the experience of lost love and long forgotten dreams. Of when their plans had been entirely revolved around the Kingdom and Palaces they hailed from – only doing the best they could do to create change. As it turned out, they both had managed to ruin something that could have been so great. Perhaps they were the same in this, broken forgotten souls gluing themselves up time and time again after the weight of the burden they bore grew too much and cracked the surface. Perhaps they needed each other more than they had thought. Thranduil had been the one to inadvertently protect her when she truly needed it most. And Rexanna was, and continued to be, the one that cared too much about others.
Maybe that’s what Thranduil needed, though. Someone that wouldn’t judge him and instead care for him and join him in the dark pit that seemed to envelope his heart and mind. Someone to bear the weight through it. The heavy burden displaced upon two backs was a far easier load than on the shoulders of one. And as she looked upon the Laurelin, she began to see the cracks from where the burden had begun to break him. Her eyes softened as her body lay beside him. His words began, slowly and broken as her pale ears swung to him, soft ocean eyes watching him as he attempted to continue on with the façade he had created. “I don’t know if I-” She stayed silent as he figured out what to say, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she hoped he wouldn’t say that he didn’t need her. As far as she was concerned, he needed her just as much as she needed him – to be the weight to even out the burdens they both faced.
“I need you…”
It was only a whisper but it felt so loud. Sympathy spread through her face, creasing along her eyes ever so slightly as she began to nod slowly. “I need you too.” She wanted to say, but as she closed her eyes all she could see were those familiar earthen eyes, strong and hardened burning into her soul as his head dropped to her knees. She allowed him to rest there, reaching her own head over his and placing it gently along his neck. Her eyes found the familiar darkened corners of the cavern as the thunder raged outside, as Thranduil’s next words broke the heavy and loud silence. “I’ll try.” She smiled, then, for the first time since her encounter with the Laurelin. Those two words were all she asked of him – to try and give himself some happiness among a life lived in anger, resentment, and broken pride. And she’d try and find herself there with him – never allowing the faces from the past, from another life, to die. Yet, the thought of being able to speak of them freely without the overbearing shadow that loomed behind each thought was going to be a challenge, an adventure; one she hoped they could both be successful with.
"Shhh. Rest." She whispered back, aiming to softly rub her head against his neck in a light motion. It was only for a few seconds, but enough of an endearing notion, hoping the gilded man would be able to get a decent amount of sleep without being trapped in the clutches of his nightmares.
And just like that, the Thief allowed Thranduil to sleep as she watched over him, sharing warmth in their offside embrace. Marembo danced between the cavern opening and the trio, keeping an extra eye on the events of the outside. He’d be the first to tell Rex when light would appear, though as Thranduil slept he was sure to show the mental images of the electrified world outside clearing up. It was the calm after the storm, and as Rexanna quietly enjoyed the Laurelin’s openness she knew it would only last so long. She’d enjoy every moment of it, of sharing quiet words and tenderness without peering eyes and regret from what others might think. It would be those little secrets the Siren would keep with her as long as she lived.
"Talk."
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Every kiss and every word— They were bullets spraying hazardly from lips. Rexanna
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image | coding
@Thranduil
Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!
| Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist
Hawk |
10-16-2016, 02:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-16-2016, 02:24 PM by Thranduil.)
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The hours pass, the storm rolled on through, and the even in time, the rain stopped beyond the caves. And the gold slept. Deep and still he slept. No stir did he make, or a whisper of a groan, for his dreams were distant even from him. Faces passed his vision. A white one….a cremello, a chestnut….a gold…even a rosen and cream. They passed but nothing rose to greet them. Here in utter exhaustion, with another curled about him, the gold slept in peace. The most peaceful rest since….
It wasn’t until a dull grey light had grown in the cavern that the gold stirred. His harks twitched first, perhaps catching the sound of birds outside, and his breath rose. Haldir though was the first to stir. He too had enjoyed a deep rest but as morning began to sound his dark head rose. Its moon eyes looking to the watching polecat. Then to the gold. Though his presence, sleeping beside his bonded had not been contested, it wasn’t the greatest place to be most likely when the gold awoke. So the stag carefully took his leave. He was not silent like the Laurelin, but he did his best to slink away from the pair to his new friend at the door, to say the goodbye he knew was probably coming.
It was a while later before the gold came to. His chest heaved with a sigh, and finally the earth eyes open up, regretfully, again to the world. Still for a moment he does not move. His eyes find the cream shadow above him, and feel the warmth of another body around him, and he in truth was loath to move.
But life could not be spent like this. And now especially, the gold had work to do. The shattered pieces of his whirling mind were picking up. Slowly, but steadily he was piecing things back together. Rexanna had promised to be there, to listen. But life couldn’t be spend here. And they should both know that.
The gold head shifted on hers. He couldn’t slip out unnoticed, he knew that much. Yet the gold also knew that he wasn’t the best with goodbyes. So he says nothing as he slowly pulls from under the gentle mare’s touch. A chill shivers down his spine as the cold air of the cave replaces her warmth. It pulls back completely, stretching to his chest, but his eyes cast down to the floor of the cavern. For a moment he doesn’t speak, and if she does, he is still merely a listener. Instead, he only reaction at last, was to look up to the sea blue eyes. His earth ones had changed. Where they had been distant and unfocused, they now were sharp and clear. A sign of change…or perhaps just a sign of rest.
The edge of his lip twitches, the awkwardness coming over him. Not only was he terrible at goodbyes, he didn’t enjoy them. Yet even the gold could see he couldn’t simply leave her. So he did what might be to other a small and insignificant thing. Something unworthy or equal, but to those who knew him, really knew him, it was something rather large. The leafen starred head shifts, then slowly reached out and if she allowed, graced the side of her own nose. Just a small touch if she stayed. For a moment it hung there, rolling in the still slow breath of his waking. Then it withdrew, and the gold rose from her side.
He paused again only once, at the door of the cavern. He inhaled deeply the dew heavy morning air drafting into the caves, then his head turned halfway back. His thoughts seeming to linger on something, but he himself hesitating. Tasseled tail twitched, switching sides before he finally spoke, the voice still low and drugged with what had happened in the night. “My nightmares may be…ghosts…but take care-“ His head turned back further so his earth eyes could see her. “-yours are not.” His gaze tried to settle seriously on hers. To hint. To suggest. “Fate may not give justice, but there are ways to take it.” The earth eyes sweep over her one last time before the gold back to the cave opening. He inhales, and his voice more awake, but layered with a deeper meaning than this phrase usually held. “At your service, Rexanna.” Then he stepped on, and was gone.
OOC::<333
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@Rexanna <33
Thran out =]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
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