"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
The thing about friends is that Själ had never really had any.
Oh, sure, she had called Zèklè a friend, but where was he now? Regardless of how much she might miss him (I don't, she lied firmly to herself), he was nonetheless nowhere to be found. Other names surfaced, too: Rikyn, a boy who had offered her interesting conversation, a boy who might one day be a friend but was, for now, too unknown, too unfamiliar; Erebos, a boy who had convinced her that Helovia was her home, that perhaps what she was looking for was not so easily found, that friends were hard to find as a wandering, lonely soul. But the three boys that stood out the most in her young mind were mere acquaintances. They might have shared stories, laughs, afternoons, but she could not say with any sort of confidence that they understood her.
Ansgar was a friend, of course, but that was almost too simple a term for the girl's bandmate. After all, it seemed a bit blasé to name the sharing of one's soul in such a way. The connection that she shared with her griffin was much deeper: it was a melding of minds, a linking of hearts -- it was the dearest of bonds to the young princess, one that she would not defile with the inconsiderate grasping of titles. The griffin accepted this easily, knowing that she, and only she, would know her bonded's heart and mind to the greatest extent that it could be known.
So, then, who could be called a friend?
Nymeria: Själ imagined that she could feel the other mare's presence, pretended that their budding friendship could pull them physically together. The connection that they had shared, that day in the Secret Grove... the memory filled the princess with a certain warmth that she couldn't quite place. It was strange, though not unpleasant, and the girl had become determined to ensure that their relationship would grow. She would not allow it to fizzle out, to disappear as easily as what she'd had with Zèklè.
"Talk."
--Ansgar.--
@Nymeria
Pixel by Reli <3
Please tag Själ in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
She was numb, empty, hollow: a carcass, meat and flesh stripped away to reveal only the architecture of her bones. Nymeria, once dark and confident and proud, had been reduced from something living and breathing to something wounded and dying. There was no blood on her skin and no bruises on her flesh that would reveal her injury's nature, but she was still damaged and still haunted by the memories overpowering her thoughts.
Everything was suspended in limbo for now. Her dreams, her hopes, her ambitions... they were fragile things in face of the storm that devastated her. Now they were in ruin, and while she knew she needed to rebuild, all she could do now was mourn for what was lost.
So she wandered. She heeded the tug of her hooves and succumbed to the wills of instinct, drifting back towards the dark and deep forest that had once been her home. Lilómiel guided her, a solitary point of brightness in the dark, his wings and flame carving out a path among the broken sun and slaughtered whimsy of her fantasies. Some distant and buried part of her longed to return to purpose and embrace her herd duties; for now, she ignored it. Herd, she had decided, could wait. She needed... she needed time to recover.
Whether it was fate or coincidence that brought the two lonely friends together Nymeria didn't know and didn't care.
What mattered was that Själ was there and more than anything Nymeria needed someone to lean on, someone to confess to, and with Volterra out of the picture Själ (beautiful, humble, angry Själ) was one of her her only friend. Nymeria thought that there might be tears welling in her eyes; Nymeria thought that she should be ashamed for the degradation and humiliation she had suffered through.
"Själ," she sighed, her voice failing beneath the weight of her sorrow. "Själ, I—I... is it strange to say I missed you?"
05-14-2016, 09:01 PM (This post was last modified: 05-14-2016, 09:01 PM by Själ.)
Själ
The skull-marked mare appeared, as though by magic, and as she approached, the princess hovered on the precipice of a smile. She had not expected Nymeria's presence to have such an effect on her: suddenly, she was full of glee, almost giddy. The world was bright, and she was happy, and everything else seemed so very far away.
Then she saw her friend's face.
The brilliant smile (that had only ever been offered to Nymeria and Zèklè) faded, replaced by a frown of concern, a confused tilt of the head. "Nymeria!" she called. The princess closed the space between them quickly, offering her muzzle to the mare before her. She wasn't sure what to do, wasn't sure what to say -- something was wrong, and though she could feel it, she hadn't the slightest clue how to fix it. She had always been the broken one; everyone around her had always held it together, at least as far as she knew. Even Nymeria, though not as confidently whole as the rest, had been her confidante more so than not. To see her breaking, to watch her shattering into a million little pieces in front of her -- it was nearly too much for Själ to bear.
"Nym," she whispered, once she was standing beside her friend, shortening Nymeria into something intimate, special, secretive (or so she imagined). "I missed you, too." Though the words sounded strange, almost childish, on her tongue, it was true: the princess had wandered aimlessly since their fateful meeting, constantly thinking of what they would be doing if they were together. She had wondered if the skull-faced mare would like the ocean, when she had meandered along its shores. She had imagined that the wolf-mare would smile with glee under the cover of the rotunda, watching its colors dance across the marbled floors. And today, she had gone looking, searching aimlessly, hoping that she might, by chance, stumble across the mare who had claimed a piece of her heart with their childish promise: friends?
Själ's muzzle turned away from where she had offered it in greeting, moving to attempt to graze along Nymeria's neck, as though checking her for injuries. Leaning to the side, the princess could see nothing physically wrong with the other mare. Frowning, she brought her amber gaze back to Nymeria's. "Nym, what's - what's wrong?"
Nymeria noticed Själ's cheer at first absent-mindedly, her subconscious automatically deciphering the smile curving her lips. If she had been less self-absorbed, less tainted by her yawning despair, she would've been happy to return such a smile: instead she only sinks deeper into the abyss, full of self-deprecating sorrow. I don't deserve this, she thought despairingly; we've only met once before!
Själ's smile peaked and then it shattered. Too humiliated to look her friend in the eye, Nymeria lowered her head; she loathed herself all the more for causing that brightness to dissipate. I shouldn't have sought her out.
And yet it didn't matter: Själ reached out to her, brushing her muzzle against Nym's, her voice a whisper. Nym, she said gently: the equine's spirits lift momentarily and then fall. Nym. This was the first time anyone other than Volterra had called her that—and she, she appreciated it. There was, indeed, something intimate to it, something precious; even in her misery Nym reminded herself she would need to remember this moment.
The unicorn shifts, running her delicate muzzle along her neck.
The touch is agonizingly sweet. It is love she was never afforded by her mother, love she was never given by—by anyone.
She didn't realize how good it felt to be cared for, without all the messy complications of family. Her breath comes ragged now as she brings her head up, meeting Själ's amber gaze (so reminiscent of Confutatis', and yet so different.) Memories threaten to overwhelm her—memories of the beach and the sea and grey eyes watching and dragons on the horizon, glistening white and gold.
(I'm going to be sick.)
What can she tell Själ? How can she explain—how can she...
It was my own fault I deserved it I was too weak if I couldn't fight him off then he deserved this is allmyfaultallmyfault—"he... he did things to me. Själ—I can't, I don't want to remember him."
Gentility was not something that had ever come naturally to the mare born of darkness and ice; and yet as Nymeria gazed numbly back at her, she understood suddenly that some situations required a tender touch. She saw her friend coming apart at the seams, watched with dismay as Nymeria drowned before her eyes. Själ had the feeling that if she pressed too hard, pushed too quickly, the wolf-mare would shatter completely. The princess could not allow that to happen.
She would not allow that to happen.
Nym, she might have whined, prodding for an answer, a reason to the darkness laid bare for the world to see; but instead she waited in silence, concerned gaze laid unwaveringly upon the wolf-mare. When had she grown to be so fond of this mare who was naught but a stranger, truly? What was it about Nymeria that drew the princess in, brought this new, protective urge to destroy whatever had harmed her friend to the surface? Never before had she felt such an unyielding rush of hatred -- for it to be directed at nothing in particular confused and almost frightened her. But all of this paled in the face of Nymeria's pain.
Indeed, the princess hid her feelings well behind a mask adopted for Nymeria's protection. Själ dared not display her anger, not yet, not when she sensed such fragility in the mare who had been so strong for her. Yes she could not imagine the depths of anger that would wrack her soul when the skull-marked mare divulged her secret: he did things to me. And though the princess was not well-versed in the ways of men, had no true understanding of the things of which Nymeria spoke, could not fathom the situation that the wolf-mare found herself in -- she was infuriated all the same.
"Who?" she snarled, venom suddenly sparking in her eyes. Her voice was tight, angry, her jaw clenching in an effort to calm and control the rage within. "Nym, tell me who."
"Talk." --Ansgar.--
@Nymeria
Pixel by Reli <3
Please tag Själ in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
05-16-2016, 11:37 AM (This post was last modified: 05-16-2016, 11:37 AM by Mesec.)
blood coursing in the veins of the moon.
Mesec had barely remembered to pause on his way out of the Veins to find Megaera again, but he quickly had found the Sultana to catch her up on (most) of what his mother had told him. This all important quest, the reason why they had made this trip and the thing he needed was dwarfed by the screaming voice in his mind that kept reminding him of one thing. Well, two things: his children. The idea of a family was all-consuming in his mind. A family that was his - not just one he had been thrust into, not one he had been adopted into, but one where he actually belonged because he had helped to create it.
Or, at least, he hoped he would belong there with them. He wondered if Ki’irha had already given birth or if he would make it in time to be there for her. He didn’t know how long mares were pregnant for (couldn’t even remember the last time he spent time around one that he knew was pregnant). Mesec knew next to nothing about the star-mare - a fact that, embarrassingly enough, his mother was well aware of - but he couldn’t imagine a birth, particularly to twins, being easy.
The quest was important, he knew that - knew that he should finish it before going to find Ki’irha again, but he couldn’t shake the need to go north. He just needed to see her - maybe even them - once and then he would stay away until his quest was completed and he had control, until he was safe.
Lucius, always Mesec’s obnoxiously vocal conscience, felt conflicted over the issue as well and kept up a constant debate through their bond - enjoying his growing grasp on the spoken word. He pointed out that exercising restraint on seeing the children could be the first step in completing the quest but also felt Mesec’s excitement course through him and the zephyr wanted to see Ki’irha and, if they were born, the children as well.
Their path northward became meandering as the pair alternated between wanting to go there right now and wanting to complete the quest first. Mesec had been starving himself for so long throughout the winter that he needed to build up the strength to make another trek across Helovia - the one from the north down to find Megaera in the Throat had been torturous.
Which was how he found himself here, in the Deep Forest, his ears flickering towards the sound of lowered voices followed by angry, snarled words not far off in the forest - just catching the movement of two dark bodies through the trees. The end to his self-isolation felt so close (just one quest away) it would be okay to just quickly investigate, right? Lucius found a perch in a nearby tree so he could keep watch while Mesec moved forward cautiously, aware that he might not be welcome at all but his worry driving him forward all the same.
“Is everything alright?” He didn’t recognize either of them - though the skull-faced mare’s markings reminded him of Volterra - but his concern was genuine as he stepped through the trees, silver eyes flickering between the two as he paused at least two lengths away from the pair. He couldn’t know what a ridiculous question that was, but the anger in the last voice to speak had alerted him - surely there was no harm in checking.
It pains Nymeria to see someone care about her so much. Once more she thought that she did not deserve this—that her self-pity and self-deprecation did not belong here. It would be preferable to talk about something, anything, else; to hear her voice crack and her heart tremble and her head overflow with memories only reminded her of how far she'd fallen.
Dreams, hopes, ambitions: vanquished, ruined, desecrated by the unholy union of monster and queen.
Why had she bothered to think she stood a chance? He'd defeated her once before; what hope had she had of turning him away? Now, seeing Själ's dismay, seeing her alarm, Nymeria is only reminded more than ever of the memories she'd tried to forget. They unwillingly rose to the forefront of her mind, too sharp and too vibrant in 4K. How well she remembered it: salt in her lungs, the sea lapping against the shore, the dragons screaming and scrawling across the horizon in raging defiance. The colors had blurred together—white and black, gold and gray—all which formed a spectrum of misery, despair, shame, and horror. There had been weight against her, unwanted and unneeded, and then there had been her pain, both emotional and physical, as her dignity was scrupulously stripped and reduced to less than nothing.
The memories were both too real and not real at all.
What she had thought certain at the time seemed less certain now: had she been in the wrong? Had she been unwittingly leading him on? Had she really fought to free herself or had she given in? She didn't want to think that, didn't want to believe she had submitted to Abraham's poisonous touch—but maybe she was wrong.
How well do I really know myself?
Her emotions were bleeding out, threatening to split the seams of her self-composure. That day, the day on the beach, was a tumour growing inside her head, gnawing at her brain.
Själ leaned towards her, concerned; then something about her features harden, and Nymeria flinches, shifting back. It takes Nymeria a terribly long moment to realize that Själ's anger was not at her but at Abraham. Who? The unicorn spits, her voice threaded with venom and maternal fury. Nym stirs, unsettled, watching Själ's muscle and sinew flex in rigid control. There is an unfathomable beauty to Själ's indignation on her behalf—because why should she care? Nothing had happened to her, after all. If there was one thing Nymeria was certain of, it was that Själ did not deserve to be forced into protecting her.
I can protect myself.
(She laughs at that, out-loud and in Själ's face, dazed and confused and oh-so-very-clearly out of it.)
Lilómiel croons to her, soft and sweet in her ear. You can tell her, he pleads. Själ cares for you. Can't you see? Tentatively, Nym lets her gaze rove back to the amber-eyed unicorn, her withered heart swelling with admiration to see her passion. It is that more than anything that coaxes her into speech-
Is everything alright?
The voice is unexpected and strikes some hazy sense of fear back into her. Nym jerks forwards, hastily pivoting to face the newcomer. Her repositioning puts her alongside Själ, side-by-side; together they square off to the white-eyed and dark-winged hybrid. Almost unconsciously Nym presses in to Själ, seeking out that precious feeling of security; she blinks at the stallion, momentarily at a loss for words. Is everything alright? He'd said, as if he cared—is everything alright? As if anything could be alright.
Stop being melodramatic Nym you're just being a fucking bitch this doesn't matter it's your own fault.
Seizing on the moment, before Själ might say something, Nymeria snaps out: "No, nothing is alright, but I. Don't. Know. Why the fuck you care anyways."
05-18-2016, 06:45 PM (This post was last modified: 05-18-2016, 06:46 PM by Själ.)
Själ
Why did the princess care so much for the wolf-mare? It was not as though she had ever offered sympathy in the past, not truly. Her past friendships, shallow and meaningless, had been full of the lightness of childhood; in the way of drama, there had been little and less to concern or infuriate her. No, she might have felt a fleeting jealousy here or a bit of irritation there when she didn't quite get her way, or when she thought that she ought to have more claim to Zèklè than anyone else -- but that was nothing in comparison to the blind, unadulterated fury that chilled her blood as Nymeria admitted to her obvious pain. And yet, through the crimson haze that filled her mind, a part of her understood that she would have to tread lightly, to offer her friend no reason to shy away from Själ's proffered affections.
As though to confirm this realization, Nymeria shied away from the princess's touch, as though flinching away from some uncontrollable anger directed at her. Själ paused, neither moving towards nor away from the wolf-mare: she would not close the gap further, not until Nymeria relaxed, but neither would she move away. If nothing else, the other mare had to understand that the princess was not going to abandon her, not after the vows they had made to one another in the Secret Grove. If Nymeria had seen Själ at her worst, then the least she could do is return the favor without running away screaming.
What was more -- the speckled mare wanted to help. It was not enough that her friend was a friend by name; no, it was necessary that the pair rely on one another, prove that it was possible to be more than just a word. She wanted - she needed - to show herself that the earthly bonds she built were worth more than that.
Nymeria laughed then, a sad, wild cackle that almost took Själ aback with its pain and ferocity. The dragon crooned softly (the princess imagines that he is soothing his bonded), and Ansgar answered with a quiet chirp of her own. Two pairs of amber eyes were fixed on the wolf-mare, concern sharply contrasting the caged anger threatening to break free.
"Is everything all right?"
Nymeria jerked as though kicked, spinning to the princess's side with surprising speed; at the same time, Själ moved, driven by the wild desire to save her friend. Själ's ear pinned against her skull, her teeth bared, and her head lowered in an obvious display of aggression. With Nymeria pressing against her, the princess stepped forward, angling herself slightly so that she was protectively, tensely positioned in front of the wolf-mare. Nymeria had already spoken, terse, biting words flying from between her teeth toward the stallion who had emerged from the trees.
Nymeria's hatred could only mean one thing: it was HIM.
Själ might have snarled, had she been the wolf that her friend was; as it was, she spat her words at the stallion, her tail lashing angrily. "What did you DO to Nymeria?!" Had any of them known Psyche, they might have recognized the psychotic anger that coursed through Själ's amber eyes, the rigid set of her neck, the preparatory shuffling of her hooves. She would fight to defend her friend, and she would win.
“What?!” The snapping of the first mare - with the white skull mask - made some sense and it was no surprise to be treated with animosity if he had intruded on something private. But the explosion from the younger unicorn blindsided him and his silver eyes widened in surprise. The intensity of the anger rose like a sudden flame, shooting across the distance between them as she spat her words at him - accusing him of doing something to Nymeria (presumably her friend). Every flicker of movement in her body spoke of that wildfire in her and roared of danger. “No, I didn’t do anything!” But after that quick defense, Mesec quickly decided that shouting back at the younger unicorn might not be the best way to convince either of him that he wasn’t a threat - not in this form.
So he took a small step backwards, lowering his head slightly and forcing the lines of his body to relax - hoping to convey with every line of his body that he meant neither of them any harm. He would defend himself against any attack - sending a silent word of prayer to his mother that if it came to a fight, he wouldn’t shift and make things worse. At least he could teleport away, remove himself quickly from the situation, if he was lucky enough to have enough energy to grasp that magic. Instead of trying that first, which Lucius counselled would be the wiser choice, he would try to diffuse the tension he thought he had brought in.
When he spoke again, he tried to make up for his disruptive entrance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you - either of you.” His silver eyes flickered between the unicorn and equine, his expression sad and concerned. “It was a stupid question, I see that now, I just...” He didn’t know what happened to this Nymeria but whatever it was, it was bad - possibly even at the hands of a stallion from how quickly her friend was to place blame on Mesec when he arrived. The assumptions he made roused an anger in him as much as it did sadness that there were those out there that could do such things.
“I was... am -” He corrected himself - the hostility of both of the mares hadn’t changed anything “- genuinely concerned. Stranger or not, I will help if I can but if my presence is upsetting I’ll leave.” Mesec didn’t even know if there was something he could do if he stuck around but if his absence would help mend anything he would happily give it. “I am sorry.” For interrupting, for whatever had happened, his voice was low, soft, and filled with sincerity.
Själ steps forward, a veritable wall of snow-dusted flesh. Out of her peripheral vision Nymeria sees her ears sew themselves to knotted, wild mane, and her lips peel back to expose bone-white teeth. The action is touching—it catalyzes the beat of her heart, jumpstarts adrenaline and gives her a fleeting sense of pride. (What did I do to deserve this?) She is thankful (agonizingly thankful) for the protection the unicorn offers her; Själ's gesture means all the more because of Nym's vulnerability.
She feels safer now that she has ever felt in the Falls.
Red eyes turn to observe silver. There is a venomous lacquer to her crimson gaze as she spits out her 'greeting'; she does not regret it. It is easy to be spiteful when she knows she'll have the muscle (re: Själ) to back her up if necessary... and, of course, it is easy to be spiteful when she hurts and aches and shivers, her head overgrown with weeds of memory and sensation. They are dandelions, thistles, and yellow toadflax: ugly, yellow, and furiously quick-spreading, choking out what little happiness she has found over the last year.
(Why did he need to show up now? Who was this... stranger?)
(Alternatively, perhaps it is a sign. She doesn't know if she believes in an inescapable destiny: but if it was the case, then Abraham and Själ and Mesec were a part of her path, each of them leaving an impact for a reason.)
It feels good to hear Själ's rabid and rapid defence, even if her accusations were misplaced. In the brief and splitting silence that follows the wolf-mare breathes to exhale out the tension coiling in her sinews. The faintest of wry smiles flicker across her lips. Then her ears swivel, latching onto the stallion's astonished and injured reply, her smile dying almost instantaneously. The worst parts of her wish to let him take the blame, to let their words scorn and sting him for the crime of being witness to her pain—the wiser, kinder pieces of her shift and collide and grapple for dominance (you can't do that to him! You shouldn't!)
"No," she sighs, sounding as sad as she would had he been the culprit, "he's not..."Not him. Not the one with the twisted horns and heinous eyes and abominable heart.
Some of the venom disappears from her eyes.
Sending a meaningful glance Själ's way (a plead, a please hear me out) Nymeria then takes advantage of Mesec's forthcoming apology. "It is not your fault," (even if you should not be here) "I was... distraught." There is a mask, marvellous in detail, fitting itself over her features: it is not a seamless transition (she cannot muster the energy) but the unhappiness is at least partially covered, her misery better disguised for the hybrid's benefit.
"There was an incident... involving a stallion." Words choke and seize in her throat. Eyelashes swing nimbly together to hide the brittle emotions in her eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. She must stay composed. She must—and yet she is fragile and crumbling anyways, unmade.
How quickly her disguise would fall apart under scrutiny.
05-30-2016, 10:15 PM (This post was last modified: 05-30-2016, 10:17 PM by Själ.)
Själ
Hers was an empty threat, but it was a threat nonetheless. In every tense line of her body, in every angry crease of her face, there was a just-contained fury that appeared in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. Never mind that the girl had no fighting experience - she was ready to battle in all but knowledge, prepared to offer herself for Nymeria's safety. If she had truly known her mother, she might have been able to recognize how very similar she looked to Psyche just then; there was a calculated psychosis that had appeared in her amber eyes, a hunger reminiscent of bloodlust. The DarkEmpress had been an excellent fighter, (though she had greatly preferred crafty manipulation) and despite her inexperience, it was obvious that the girl had inherited her mother's instincts.
The moment stretched, tense and still. Overhead, there was silence where there was once birdsong and squirrel chatter. Even the animals surrounding the trio had gone to ground, afraid of whatever was to come.
The stallion spoke, and his genuine confusion and sorrow took the princess aback, almost smoothing her raised hackles and settling her into a glaring statue. It was not, however, until she heard the wolf-mare's soft no that the princess pressed her lips together, lifted her head, and stepped back to Nymeria's side, casting a concerned, sidelong glance at her friend. As the other mare offered words of apology, Själ noted the way the wolf-mare's mask slid into place, a practiced facade that the princess recognized well. It was her own defense mechanism as well, and her experience with it made it easy to recognize upon another - especially one whose face she had memorized, even in the few times they had been in one another's company.
Själ's mouth twisted into a frown as Nymeria finished speaking, reaching out (her heart on her sleeve) to gently touch the mare's shoulder in support. After a moment, she withdrew, blinking as her own mask clicked into place. "My apologies," she told the stranger, her voice a gentle purr that was quite different from the banshee's shriek she had released only moments before. "I was told no more than that, and given my friend's reaction to you -" (she did not say Nymeria's name, for that was not hers to reveal) "- you understand my... concern." She leaned her hindquarters surreptitiously to the right, hoping to offer her touch to Nymeria.
She smiled then, slipping easily into her new role - to protect Nymeria, to offer her a shield to hide behind, Själ would take attention as she was able, would redirect the stallion's queries. "I imagine introductions are in order," she suggested, unaware of how like her mother she was beginning to think and sound. Perhaps her intentions were different, purer, than those of the DarkEmpress, but her methods? Well... let us just say that the dark princess was just as comfortable in the shadows as her late mother. "I am Valyrica."
The lie came unbidden to her tongue, floating easily into the spring air. Even if this stallion was not the stallion, he was still a stranger, and he was still male. How were they to know that his sincerity was not an act to lull them into complacency? How were they to know if he was any better than Nymeria's attacker? The princess did not offer a name for Nymeria, but she hoped that the wolf-mare would follow her lead and allow Själ her suspicions. "Again, I apologize for my assumptions. Do forgive me, won't you?" A smile, a flutter of lashes. Still she offered her flank and her strength for Nymeria, never moving from her proffered position of support.
"Talk." --Ansgar.--
@ Mesec
Pixel by Reli <3
Please tag Själ in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
