the Rift


[OPEN] the day is for honest men [First Official Order Meeting!]

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1
Яikyn
Something about today feels… important.

While I was not sure precisely what it was that makes me feel this way, I allow the curious urge to continue onwards to lead me. At first, it was what some would call a “mosey,” slow, ambling, eyes wandering all about for something interesting, but my walk soon had gathered pace. The world floats by at a swift canter, the spring smells buffeting my face, sending invigorating tremors through my skin as the Sun melts away the Earth’s meager keeping of snow. Mud puddles explode beneath me, splatter the still plush lining of my coat with murky gray brown – I charge onward.

To where?

Who knows? I rarely ever do; I just go where my feet take me.

The hillocks of the Thistle Meadow pour into little clusters of trees, their branches barely tinged with the vibrant green of spring. To the North, I can imagine the Basin blooming, its wildflowers and bees humming, the bears slowly ambling from their caverns; here, here is a different sort of green than there. Here the green is rich and verdant. It does not struggle against stone, ice, and wind, but thrives; rooted precisely where grass would chose to be rooted, if it had a choice in where its seed landed.

To the east, the Sun rises, casts long, lemon rays across the whole world in a pastel spill. He burns to my left, the same side still emblazoned with burns from an encounter not so far away, the irony not lost as I let a youthful laugh break from me, hind legs kicking out in a buck. I am alive! I want to shout at the God, the clatter of my hooves gathering beneath me as I bolt into a gallop the resonating battle cry of the soul my lips refrain from belting. I am alive and you and your behemoth pegasi cannot stop me!

The snow melt, as minimal as it was, seems to have wreaked some of its usual mayhem as I crest a large hill. The next ridge over cuts off at the middle point, dropping down in a sheer line to the ground, which is littered in the grass and earthy debris that had been the rounded shape of its other face; the sudden stop I apply causes dirt and strands of green growth to fly erratically outwards, my body sliding, pivoting, hind legs the anchor, so that I somewhat slide to a halt, parallel to the dilapidated edge of the hill.

It feels an awful like a podium, this hill; like the rocky outcropping that Deimos uses to command the herd from, the same which my mother had stood atop, and decreed her laws. My ears lift, my eyes sparkle, my tail takes on the bouncy sway and curve of a mind enraptured by the game it plays.

Turning back to stand abreast that hillock like the Prince I am, I lift my crown, proudly wearing the Sun as a garment across my burn laden skin. It glints off the bronze plating of my shoulder as the wind tousles through my tangled locks again, the Meadows sprawling out and away, reaching into trees, into the blue line of the sea, and the black, tangled masses of the cursed land.

[ - All members are strongly encouraged to participate, as they will otherwise be excluded from the selection of Leadership roles within the group, and will miss out on other key information.
- Characters who have not previously expressed interest are welcome, including those simply interested in overhearing. However, I ask that all members please be respectful of our group, and seriously consider whether or not you really need to be there. This is mostly an option I've left available so that characters who may require some IC prodding towards the group can meander in.
- We will be discussing who our Leaders will be, as well as introducing our political system. There will be the introduction of missions as well as individual characters, and plot opportunities!
- Never hesitate to ask questions here, on skype, or via PM! ]


the night for thieves.
Image Credit

Ráeru Posts: 41
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 4 HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Frostie
#2

I'll carry you on my shoulders, never set you down.
Ferry you through the coldness, never let you down.
The events of her life had been bleak, she'd needed an escape until she was ready to return. A few weeks ago she'd come back to Helovia, although she'd not returned to The Basin. There was nothing left for her in those frozen depths. Perhaps one day she would return but right now she was more interested in...well nothing. In truth the girl had never been interested in much, as soon as she'd come to care for someone they ended up dying. Which was a terribly annoying reaction to her friendship. A bored sigh puffed out from her cheeks, eyes studying the meadow. She'd been born here and her mother had died her. Although the girl took great comfort in the fact that the smell of the monster's breath no longer lurked here. The disgusting, vile stench of his breath no longer assaulted her nostrils.
The girl decided to visit the meadow first, to see if the events that had transpired here would still have an effect upon her. Aside from a wave of sadness for her mother the girl didn't really feel much else about this land.

So now she simply wondered aimlessly through the grassy fields. Glass hooves navigate with ease, her mind on the mother she'd barely known. There wasn't much she remembered about her father's nurse. There were flashes of blue eyes, a pearly coat and soft, gentle features. Blinking the faded image of her mother from her eyes, Ráeru looked around the field curiously.

She heard a noise... somewhere....there. In the distance a dark figure stood. Well, she hadn't had any company in a long time. Normally she avoided those who may want to talk. Yet it'd been so long before she'd actually had been with someone, she almost wanted to talk. Almost, night quite though. So the girl heads towards the figure in hopes of enjoying having some company, at least for a small while. Glass hooves pick their way through the field with precision, advising mud and other unsightly messes that threatened to stain her coat. She was a prim and proper doll-like creature, never dirty or (heaven forbid!) bloody. The girl did not enter conflicts, she simply turned around and walked away from them.

Still as she drew closer to the figure, she is amused by him. Standing atop his little podium she eyes him appreciatively. Then she gives a quiet gasp as she recognises him. It's the boy from The Basin, she'd met him at the school meeting. Her crowned head tilted as she looked at the boy, his gold markings and dark body had grown much since she'd last saw him. It was impressive.
It made sense, they were no longer babes, but youngsters playing at being adults.

Ráeru smiled.

 [[Lol she's just standing there like a creeper. ]]

Själ Posts: 112
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.0 hh :: 4 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Ansgar :: Plain Griffin :: Draining Clutch ChaoticMelodies
#3
Själ

Själ could almost imagine that they were twins.

The pair were nigh inseparable, had been since... after. For the most part, the princess enjoyed Nymeria's company in a way that she had never enjoyed anyone else before; but to a tiny piece of her, it was about more than that. It was about loyalty, protection, camaraderie. It was about kindness and affection, easily given and more easily received. It was about love (though she could not name it as that, having had such little experience with it). It was about friendship and togetherness and all of the things that she had longed for, but never found. Nymeria had become something precious to her, something that she would live or die for.

It was not an obsession, not quite; it was a deep, soul-bending bond that had been irrevocably built that day in the Secret Grove, cemented in the Deep Forest. Despite some instinct within that warned her to run away, not to trust, that she would end up broken and despairing, Själ placed her loyalty in the wolf-mare, her belief in their bond stronger than any doubt. She knew that betrayal was possible, that it was a risk that she placed upon herself -- but that Nymeria would ever jeopardize their friendship was a possibility that she could not even conceive of. It was laughable. Almost.

When the pair found themselves upon the edges of the meadow, the princess flashed a brilliant smile to her partner, hopeful that the wolf-mare's mood would be a pleasant one. "Nym," the girl began brightly, playfully, the blossoming of excitement evident in her shining amber eyes "want to race?" And then, without waiting for an answer, she was off, laughing over her shoulder as she gestured for her friend to follow. It was childish and meaningless, but it was a distraction -- one that, gods willing, Nymeria would partake in as effortlessly as her counterpart.

It wasn't about the race, after all. It was about the freedom of running.

The wind blustered through the girl's mane, weaving and winding it into thicker strands, tangling it into a ratty mess upon her nape. Her eyes roamed the horizon, on the lookout for danger -- always, always watching now, after -- guiding the way to wherever they wanted to go. The princess was gentle and tender for Nymeria, offering a side of herself that no one else would ever see; it was subtle, impossible, perhaps, to discern from the girls' points of view. But we, dear reader, can recognize differences when we see them. And what we see now is a pretty mare trying desperately to provide happiness for the one soul she cares for in this darkened world.

She came upon the hill almost by accident, and realized only just in time that perhaps it would be better for her to stop before she flew right by it. Hers was a sliding stop, the kind of halt that tore up weeds and grasses from the dirt beneath her hooves. She peered up the hill sheepishly at the figure atop it, cocking her head quizzically as she recognized the boy. (Well, at least he wasn't a threat, even if he was a bit full of himself, best she remembered.) Not far from her stopping place stood a girl, not much older than Själ, watching Rikyn in silence with a smile on her face. They almost seemed to be waiting for something, and suddenly curiosity was bubbling at the princess's throat.

"Rikyn," she greeted the boy with a polite nod. And then, joining the duo in their silence, she waited, hoping that Nymeria would have arrived beside her. There was something about the wolf-mare's presence that calmed her, and she didn't want to be in the Meadow with Rikyn and the nameless mare alone.

"Speak."
--Ansgar.--

OOC | @Nymeria and Själ are coming in together, so I have permission from Wanda to semi-PP that. :3
Själ

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.

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Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#4
Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise
Tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised

They are together.

For now, that is all that matters. It is a miracle, an impossibility (like trees spreading roots in the vacuum of space, leaves rustling in a non-existent breeze, greenery in a wasteland) and the bond that buds from decay and decrepitude is something to marvel at. Nymeria didn’t know how good it could feel, how pure and simple the bond between them could be: it was shelter in a sandstorm, holding hands in the rain, furtive glances and lingering touches—it was not sexual, not sensual, but romantic in the way that having that one friend could be. Utter security. Passion. Admiration. Respect. Reliability.

The days they spent together were long and strangely happy, spent finding whimsy in the forest and secrets in the fields. They were excuses for Själ to watch Nymeria, and for Nymeria to better know Själ. It was not an easy task—they had a long way to go yet—but as the sun rose and fell a little bit of Nymeria returned each day.

It hasn’t been long enough, Nym thought sadly. We need more time.

And yet she recognized that she needed to return to the Falls soon. No matter what feelings lingered (and oh, how many of them lingered) she had, determined-step-by-determined-step, recovered enough of herself to know she should advance with her goals, her ambitions. These would be best achieved by hard work and loyalty—not by frolicking in the fields.

(... You have all the time in the world, she would sometimes think: and then she would think of Volterra and Isopia and her heart would twinge. Not if you want to beat your brother.)

Someday, one day, she should tell Själ about Volterra. She had confided in Isopia; Själ was already closer to her than tükör arca had ever been... except she didn’t want to. Her mind was emotionally damaged enough without reopening old wounds.

Nym, the unicorn said to her, and Nym turned her head, encouraged by Själ’s earnest tone. There was a lovely brightness to Själ’s gaze; it forced a smile upon her mouth, upturning her lips in poetic cheer. Want to race?

Then she was off, her legs a smear of black ash against green grass. Nymeria (wolf-mare) gives chase, exhilarated by the easy rhythm of motion. Her hooves pound against soil, tearing deep scores into the earth (notes and quarter notes and eighth notes flickering up and down), and she stretches out to full length, her knees snapping high, her stride long and ground-eating. It is a pleasant excuse to shed weightier concerns, to let the mind hone in on the simple and yet important task of running straight as an arrow (no ankle-twisting, no leg-breaking, no lollygagging.)

They stop in a swirl of long hair (knotted, curled, and straight), Nymeria digging her heels in—stopping just barely in time to prevent collision. Red eyes flicker upwards, running over a dainty, opalescent unicorn; then they swing away suspiciously, coming to rest upon the king of the hill.

At her side Själ offers the king a greeting, nodding her head courteously. Nym’s brows arch upwards; her nostrils quiver, then flare, her lips drawing to a thin and pointed line. The name that Själ drew out was not the name she had been given following their spar on the beach. “Rikyn?” She doesn’t quite demand but her voice takes on a sharper note. “I didn’t think your name was Rikyn.”

Then she glances around again, caution forcing her eye to comb over her surroundings. There was a certain majesty, a certain feeling to the air—the sort that made her both uneasy and anticipatory at once.

image credits


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions


Zandora Posts: 85
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15 HH :: 7 years HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Evara :: Black Leopard :: None ShadowMare
#5




On purple daggers, Zandora left the icy fortress behind. She was tired, oh so tired of the constant reminders of her failures, her mistakes, her miseries. She left her child behind, the cursed child that wanted nothing to do with her except only when blood poured from her limbs, when Zandora bled for Cortana's life. Zandora supposed it was some twisted, dark metaphor, that only she could get wished upon her.

Her life had taken a violent turn to hopelessness, and the vixen wanted no more of it. She would build her muscle, would build her reputation, she would forget emotion, leave the shatters of her demonic past to choke and burn in the hell she was created from, and would become the epitome of power. There would be no other option, Zandora will become the Zandoralia she once was, and there wasn't going to be anyone that could stop her. She would rise a fallen angel, burned and blacked wings now repaired with the lust of something better.

Rikyn had told her about his plan, and like she said she would, the shadow mare came. A few had beaten her to the arrival, but none she knew. Soon though, these elite few would no longer be strangers. Evara stands by her hooves, the cat's green eyes calculating and curious. The companion was like her bonded--skeptical and untrustworthy. Assuring Evara that out of the few people Zandora trusted, Rikyn wasn't one to doubt. Letting her eyes fall upon the black and gold, she looks him over. Zandora had noticed the change in him, the childish curves had disappeared into strong, hard lines, Rikyn wasn't the boy she once remembered. Here he now stood, a king on his hill, armor glistening and begging for his voice to be heard. With a dip of her head, the woman offered him her silence so that he may share. Let the games begin.





OOC:

Misael Posts: 97
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 HH :: 7 years HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Lazarus :: Melanistic Lion :: None ShadowMare
#6

He had always liked to travel to the thistle meadows, had always enjoyed the sweet aroma in his nares and the pop of the river that flowed within. He brought himself from the throat here today, desiring the peace and serenity that the soft, caressing winds, and the thistle that danced with the wind offered him. He wasn't much of a nature guy, wasn't too fascinated with a flower and a bee, but he couldn't deny the effect it had on the crowned.

The massive man moved throughout the fields, his strides lazy but graceful as he maneuvered all of his bulk around. He felt like a beast, looming over the innocence that the thistle meadow gave, he stole it's peace and replaced it with his prints in the soil and looping paths within the parted grasses.

His golden eyes saw them from a distance, a gathering it seemed. He stood still, his breaths quiet as he squints to see better. The leader, he was painted in black and gold, and very quickly Miseal realized that this was the man Gaucho had protected him from, the stallion who had tried to steal something of his own stealing. Anger rose in his stomach, no one stole anything from him! Deciding to make the best out of this situation, the beast let his cloaking magic encompass him, his silent steps leading him closer until he was looming on the edge, well within hearing distance but none could know his arrival.

It was sad no one could see his grin, how wicked it was. Revenge would be so sweet, whatever the point of this meeting was, Miseal would know and the little gathering in the thistle wouldn't be so secret anymore.

OCC: a little drama for a meeting thread? I think yes. Miseal is using his chameleon magic and can't be seen by anyone @Mythical Request emotion five [Revenge]
"Speak"</style>
</style>

Art by Jen

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#7

If it was one thing the gold could never resist it was a growing gathering. Coming through the meadow in the morning, leaving his fog covered recluse he spies a shape upon the hill far off, and others gathering round it. At this the golden stops. His head turns to check the timing of the day, looking to the position of the sun, then back to the distance gathering with a head tilt. What on earth could be causing a stir this time of morning. ”Find out?” The voice whispers from next to him. The crowned head turns to the side, with a grin. Haldir stood looking sharp in his spring coat. For once the deer’s mood matched the golden’s. His sense of curiosity carrying over the usual barriers of decency and justice. ”Of course.”

Now it wasn’t any fun to go gallivanting up-wait that was fun. The golden gives a laugh, but continues. It wasn’t in his usual style to go charging up-oh wait yeah it was. That gains another snicker. Shaking his head though he reaches back into the satchel at his side. From this he pulls one of his most prized possessions, although, let’s be real, they all were prized. But this one was especially unique. Over his back a cloak of black flings, and his form then shivers and vanishes like dust on the breeze. This was more like it. Shaking his head the gold looks to Haldir again. The stag was looking blankly at the ground, where hoof’s still made imprints. The gold grinned, and set off with his deer trailing.

The stag eventually lot the site of the hoofprints, and instead too his own path, coming to stop near the edge of the clearing. So far, none here but the caller of the group, Rikyn, knew him, which he found amusing. So he only looks over disinterestedly and grazes, but his ears were ever attentive. The gold meanwhile was planning to get and up close view. Not one to be caught often among the masses he moved up the small hill, and came to a halt just behind the young prince. Though the gold would have to admit as he looked over the Gilded’s son he was growing, and had the marks to prove it. An invisible brow raised to see the sizeable burn upon the poor boy’s shoulder. Bet that hurt. Wonder what foolish act caused that.

Then a familiar voice echoes the colt’s name and the gold looks out to the crowd. Nymeria. A grin rose on his lips. He was glad to see her for after all they were, friends. And then there was Zandora….not the most pleasant mare he’d ever met. A few others were gathered as well but none he knew. Still it seemed everyone was a bit wary of who exactly was who. The golden stifled a chuckle to hear Nymeria question the prince’s name. It seemed the colt was more like his mother than the gold would give him credit for. Though it was clear by his stand and puffed out chest that he was no longer comparable to her. The gold’s grin curled into a smirk. No, this was the start of something new. The air was humming with it.


OOC:: I MADE IT. He's standing beside Rikyn, and Haldir is a bit off grazing. I don't think anyone here has met him though except Rikyn.
"speech"
image credits :: Table by Sarah because she's AWESOME

@Rikyn

[Image: 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.

d'Arcy Posts: 21
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 2 years :: Tallsun HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Laine
#8

The red girl was walking a precarious tightrope, and every day she was struggling to know when to move and when to be still, how to take the next step forward, and all the time wondering what might happen if she slipped from the narrow path she thought she wanted. On either side of this metaphorical canyon were two cliffs, one was childhood, the other was the adulthood she had cultivated a desire for: one of independence, one of power. From one side to the other stretched this tightrope she walked over the gaping cavern below. The abyss was more obscure than she might have liked; some unknown multitude of thousands of futures that some part of her wanted consider or explore. But she had set her path, and though she could not see where it led, she had chosen the the cables she would use to get her there. Knowledge, Cunning, Influence, Precision... Though she worked at cultivating only those things in herself, there were factors that threatened to overbalance and cast her, weak and vulnerable into the abyss she had barely escaped already.

It was other people.

That is where d'Arcy had first discovered a weakness in herself. The filly had cared freely, deeply, about her mother and brother and they had let her down. She considered it a weakness how vulnerable that depth of feeling had made her. It had given them power over her, and though she still could not seem to purge herself of it, d'Arcy resented it. There might still have been time, if the right person came along with just the right words, to change the little shadow's mind but it didn't seem likely. Her ambition was far too hungry and her heart already guarded against sentimentality and lately something about being in her childhood home chaffed. Her family was there, and Raeden, her teacher, but instead of leaning into their embrace the wary adolescent shied away. In the Edge she had seen what power was--when the King spoke, when the Goddess breathed--but the growing strength of the misty herdland left no room for children to make their mark. And that's what they saw her as, a child, when she was trying so adamantly not to be.

She was spending more and more time away from the Edge, taking short forays into the surrounding lands. There was an impulse, a rebellious want, to leave the safety of the edge behind but d'Arcy had never been that cavalier. She didn't know much about Helovia at large; besides her well-chaperoned trip to the borders of the Basin, she had rarely been beyond the shattered remains of the glass wall. Before severing ties, she wanted some type of plan, some other goal to work towards. She was smart enough to know that striking off into the wild unknown with no protection was foolhardy in the extreme and so she had carefully maintained her "home base" until she knew where to aim next.

Thistle Meadow was a safe option, and the centralized ground made it ideal for a kick off point for further reconnaissance. The red filly moved along the tree line along the meadow’s outskirts, the long shadows of the morning casting stripes of light and dark across her back. She knew anything worthwhile would most likely be found in the open ground of the meadow’s rolling hills, but d’Arcy was hesitant about exposing herself before she had a better picture of the situation. It wasn’t long before she spotted a gathering, just forming by the looks of it, centered around a hilly outcrop. It was a surprise to see Rikyn on the makeshift podium, but as the red girl stopped to survey the scene, she supposed it wasn’t entirely out of character. He looked all boldness and youthful pride, and though rather different from d’Arcy’s M.O., she had found it rather amusing when she’d snatched him out from under the territorial crosshairs of Raeden and Tembovu. Surrounding him were strangers (not that she could really say she and Rikyn were well acquainted) and so she approached slowly, sticking to the outside of the gathering. Her eyes lingered over each form, trying to use what she saw of pick out information on each and patterns among the group. All older than she, most unicorns... it really wasn't much; though what they all seemed to have in common was having met the darker stallion before. Under whatever name he chose to use. she thought curiously, watchful eyes fixing on him again. She allowed a bit of a smile "He tried to pass himself off as Calor when I met him, but perhaps he chooses a new one every day."


d'arcy
wear your heart on your cheek
but never on your sleeve
unless you wanna taste defeat
when I tell you that i love you
don't test my love
accept my love, don't test my love
cause maybe i don't love you all that much

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#9
Misael's stomach turns to ice, his hooves to lead. It is as if he's frozen inside of himself, hardened by the revenge which normally burned hot, but today is like the weight of the world.

Raeden Posts: 188
World's Edge Specter atk: 7 | def: 11 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3hh :: 5 Years 3Months HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Tin :: Plain Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Dressy
#10
 


So innocent; pure & sweet.



The pale specter and her companion moved slowly through the meadow. Her cream hooves following the path of others. Teal orbs watched the ground below as the pair could smell the scent of others, but she remained behind them. Her silk tresses kissed the ground her hooves walked on as she started to get closer and closer. What going on? Tin asked the pale mare as he scanned for others. I have no clue... But we are about to find out the mare answered.

As the pair got almost in viewing range of the others Tin worked his magic, and they were no where to be seen. His magic worked in wonderful ways by making them blend into the green world around them. Raeden had full trust in her companions magic as they grew closer to now hear the voices of the others. Others who she had never seen before gathered around. Most were unicorns, and one stood out as a equine. The black equines voice rang out to call someone Rikyn. Her gaze narrowed to the one standing above the others. His black body tried to look regal, but she could see through the bull shit. Pale ears pinned to her skull when she realized that the stallion was the one who entered her boarders. How would he feel if she stepped out of Tins magic and confronted him once again? Her head shook as she heard the voices speak.

Pale gold ears perked up to hear a familiar voice ring out to the others. Teal orbs found the body of the young mare D'Arcy. Raeden kept her breath quiet and looked to Tin as he spoke to her What she doing here? Raeden shook her head unsure what to think. The red girl spoke up to then say he went under the name Calor. Raeden pinned her ears straight back angered the little bastard lied to not only her but her King. Oh i am sure our king would love to hear about this little experience with Calor... Or should I say Rikyn. Her thoughts went straight to Tin as she noticed his smirk. The pair stood unseen, and unheard just waiting for the black bastard to say something.
speaking

OOC:: All speaking is done through Mind speech Tin speaking Raeden speaking Tin has used his magic to cloak them into the surrounding brush so they are not visible to others. Lets make it ironic and say she is standing right next to @Misael, but they can't see each other! Maybe we can have a fun tread after it is over Shadow and him and Raeden can talk about what they witnessed, and how to go about telling their leaders.

Image Credits

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#11
Яikyn
Others came.

At first, it was just some really pale girl, who seemed oddly familiar. She stood off in the distance, her diamond hooves and horn glinting in the spring sunlight. Across her lips is a bemused expression, one that appraises me as she stands in silence. I’m about to open up my big mouth when two others come, two others that I immediately recognize (it’s been much less time between the last I’d met them).

Själ, and Nymeria; they fly in together in a mad drumming of hooves, this look all across their faces like they know some secret about the world that I really would like to get in on. Near to one another, uncomfortably so, it reminds me of how twins should be, or lovers. As they are neither (the concept of two mares… y’know… totally incomprehensible to me at this point in my life), I’m left with the thought that they know some terribly wonderful secret. I’m alive with wonder as to what it could be when Själ says my name.

My jaw drops, mostly because Nymeria’s face takes on the look of a woman who is about to start yelling like women do, but also because it just keeps getting worse.

Zandora arrives (I glance at her from the narrowed barrel of Nymeria’s hostile gaze with what I hope is friendliness obscured by worry, a fleeting smile and nod permitted in the tension of the moment), but so does d’Arcy. And what d’Arcy says is probably the last thing I would have said to keep little miss moon-face from making me bleed all over my hillock (I’ll not soon forget her magic). My usually chatty self is lost in the conundrum of being besieged by so many female personas as once.

Looking at the blood and snow filly with a look of exasperation, I find that I recall Ráeru’s name in the gesture. Pulling my eyes away from the punchy d’Arcy I find the name literally spilling out of my mouth in surprise at actually recalling it.

"Ráeru, right?" I say, smiling despite the fact that Nymeria probably wants to kill me still, "d’Art and tiny lady’s kid?"

I will admit I do not remember tiny lady’s name. I will also admit that I may be stalling for words at this point, looking back at the hostile equine and lifting my head defensively. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I can’t help but notice something…

There is only one guy here, but three distinct guy smells.

One smells like… nothing, like the meadow, yet oddly familiar (and annoying). It could just be the outcast smell that is always here, because this meadow is outcast central. But the other man smell that isn’t my delightfully lustrous cologne is most certainly tinged with the odor of sand, and heat. One brow rises, because it’s familiar too. Some of the worry that I’m about to get punched by Nymeria in front of all these pretty women scoots over for the notion that, for some reason, we’re being spied on.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid? Besides, its not the best time to bring it up… Nym’s red eyes are still hatefully locked on me.

"I will admit I am not Calor," I say without looking at her, elevated crown titling my gaze out at nothing in particular (though it does return to her when I admit to lying for a reason other than lying’s sake), "but I lied for a good reason. And I tell like, everyone that. Almost everyone, anyway…”

I look at Själ with pleading exasperation, finding my words to conflict themselves more often than I’d like on regular days – today not being an exception, unfortunately.

“And I only have three pretend and real names, thank you very much, d’Arcy."

My eyes level out towards her with a friendly sort of grump face. I can’t hold much against her when she saved my ass back in the Edge like she did. I probably would have let Calor get pummeled by Mean Lady and Tembovu, were the rolls reversed. Looking back at Nymeria at the conclusion of it all, I still keep an ear out for any sounds that don’t belong to me, and all the lovely ladies present.

"Besides, you have to admit being less than honest about everything is… well, fun," the smile accompanying these words is sheepish, because I’m not the sort to say sorry; I let the grin say it for me, and she can take it or leave it.


in every heart a hole
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@Raeru @Sjal @Nymeria @Zandora @Thranduil @Misael @d'Arcy @Raeden @Oultik

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#12

It turned out the dark prince was just as fast on his tongue as his heritage promised him. The gold beside the other watched with the most laid back of gazes. He was quite happy to sit back and enjoy his friend Nymeria give the lad another scoff on his shoulder (might even add his own marks to the fray). But it seemed the prince was well adapt at slipping through hands. Or maybe it was a lesson taught by that scar.

Haldir on the edge looked up to the crest of the hill, his moon eyes turning over the scene for signs of the gold. But even to his eye the bonded was nowhere but in his mind, quietly humming about his thoughts. Dark tipped antlers shake and turn back to halfhearted grazing, though ears still trailed the group.

As the gold stood by watching he noted, in his usual habit the details of all. The three names the prince alludes, the other females hanging by, and momentum building. When the colt shrugs off his charges, and speaks to it as fun, the golden finds himself grinning all the more. Yes, that was more like it. It was a pity then that Rikyn always seemed to think of ill of the gold, look how much they had in common. It was a shame all the world didn’t think more like this. It was a shame as well, that those who did share this….philosophy, rarely got together.

Tasseled tail swings silently at his hocks, waiting, but the gathering seems to hang for a moment. Grin sidles into a smirk and he steps over to the dark prince’s ear. Perhaps he’d shove it awake again. His whisper hisses out low, but playful. “Get on with it.” Then he chuckles. “You’re a terrible flirt.” The gold watches the grown colt carefully, to sidestep any attention. He had many times whispered into an unsuspecting ear. Some would jump others sink with realization. It was always a very telling moment. And a good laugh.


OOC::
"speech"
image credits :: Table by Sarah because she's AWESOME

@Rikyn

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Själ Posts: 112
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.0 hh :: 4 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Ansgar :: Plain Griffin :: Draining Clutch ChaoticMelodies
#13
Själ
The two of them stopped as one, as Själ had known that they would; had she mistrusted Nymeria's ability to control her own body, she would not have run so quickly nor stopped so suddenly. The ability to rely so completely on another was foreign to her, strange and new and wonderful. For too long, the princess had been on her own, in body and in spirit; to have found someone with whom to share her days, to give bits and pieces of her shattered soul - it was satisfying in a way that she could not explain. For the first time, she felt understood and cared for. That it would have to come to an end was an inevitability that she ignored completely.

And so they stopped to stare at Rikyn, and as others appeared and gathered (as though they were all in on a secret that neither she nor Nymeria were privy to), Själ found herself in possession of his great secret. As Nymeria questioned his name, the princess found herself grinning, pleased to have surprised the jerk boy so. As he shot her a pleading look, having tried desperately to talk his way out of trouble, the princess leaned her hip towards Nymeria, hoping to make contact. "It would appear that Rikyn likes to play pretend," she giggled, mischievous humor in her eyes. "Do you put on different personalities with all those names?"

There was a strange feeling in the air, an excited tension that had the girl intrigued. What were they all gathered for? Still, whatever, the reason, Själ had to admit that Rikyn had a point. How many times had she found it beneficial to be untruthful - even if by omission? As words were spoken and names exchanged, the princess simply waited. Perhaps, if she stood still and watched expectantly, something else interesting would come of this meeting.

"Speak."
--Ansgar.--

Själ


@Nymeria and @Rikyn since she directly interacted with them!

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Misael Posts: 97
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 HH :: 7 years HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Lazarus :: Melanistic Lion :: None ShadowMare
#14

He watches like hawk, ears flipping from forwards to backwards, side to side, not wanting to miss a single word. He sees a few people he had met previously, but most were new to his eyes. He kept their faces memorized, soon he would seek them out, spy on them, the ice prince would feel his wrath, even if Gaucho's was enough.

Quite a large crowed turned out, it seemed that the young stallion had actually worked pretty hard on whatever he seemed to be conjuring up. There is a lot of mini-conversations, words passed from new fellows and past friends, glares and smiles, a whole mix of emotion. A lady nears Miseal, she too seemed to be spying from the outside, the pair like vampires in the night, hunting down their prey from the shadows and silence.

Rikyn speaks and Miseal is instantly trained on his voice, hoping, praying that he would speak of information valuable for Miseal to report back to Gaucho. If anything had gotten interesting, the beast wouldn't have known. For the moon goddess had striked again, his veins that had once ran hot, ran icy cold, his body weighed down with the mass of ice that he felt inside him. It stabbed at his sides, his stomach feeling as if an iron hand bathed in dry ice had twisted itself within Miseal's barrel. His brow furrowed in great pain, fuck the moon goddess. He tries to focus on what was going on, but his mind kept getting drug down by the feeling of his body being crushed underneath an invisible weight. Turning around, the giant headed south, heavy, slow steps carrying him there.

OCC: had to get this up for quest thread!
"Speak"</style>
</style>

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