the Rift


[OPEN] young tree [hatching]

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
The little orb I’d been returning to throughout the course of each day, carefully hidden away in a meshing of grasses, branches, and leaves in the fringes of the Labyrinth, seemed to be moving. 
 
I hadn’t dared hide it in there, mostly because the bamboo shoots seemed to magic their way about, always changing, so that it was a new conundrum every time I went in there (or maybe I’m just bad at mazes).  So, the egg had come to live in a small, outer edging of bamboo which formed a crescent moon, which I had found rather ironic, considering the Moon had been the one to spare this land of the Rift’s darkness.
 
It was this orb that had kept me so close to the Flats; this orb that had allowed me to meet with Nymeria in battle, as well as the great Gaucho.  I hadn’t dared go very far from it, worried that someone like me might decide it should be his now; I also had minor concerns for raccoons and other creatures, having seen enough ransacked nests to know that egg children must be awfully tasty.  My own body had narrowed in the cold months, the length of the winter stealing the nourishment I needed, and while grass was not eggs or rabbits, I figured every thing else was hungry, too.
 
Birdsong had snuck up on the world just as Frostfall had tried to cleave to it, the warmth seeming to bring to life something deep within the gift the Lights had given me, so that it is now gently wavering to and fro.  As I lower my nose to investigate, the whole thing suddenly ruptures.  In a bursting radiance of light, sparkling dust, and brittle shell, the containment field of rich greens, browns, and gold is no more; instead, there is a small, damp, large eared creature with two smooth bumps on its head. 
 
His head, I think, feeling a curious tickle in my mind.  It feels like leaves, sun warmed, if leaves could drag their greenness along your brain.  I am filled with the impression of branches swaying, of rain, dripping down somewhere in the distance, its smell carried to me by far away winds.  As my eyes look over him, these sensations are met with the visage of his richly brown and black coat, the gold racing through it in a pattern I recognize as the elemental form of the Spark: lightning.  Among the lightning are bright white patches in a pattern I’ve seen young deer wear, making me think they won’t always be there, like clouds among his brown pelt.  Small, richly green plants curl along side the knobs of his cream colored horns, ribbons of gold sparkling in the pale, bone like material.  His eyes are closed, lashes a black, subtle line, and his golden hooves are tucked beneath him, almost as if he is sleeping.
 
Something in me flutters.  That flutter ignites, begins a painless escapade through my veins and thoughts that make me feel very strongly the urge to laugh, weep, and dance about all at once.  The embers are stilled by the cool presence that is this newborn fawn, serene and perfect in the shadow of the bamboo, a being that I give a name to as if it has always been his, and always will be.
 
"Wake up, Duir," I ask him.  He’s probably the only being I’ve ever gently asked anything of, not a meager ounce of demand reaching into the emotional tenor of my voice.
 
He does.
 
His eyes are forests illuminated by sunlight, and they blink curiously at me, unaccustomed to the world’s colors, so vibrant, or the vast and stark space highlighted with gold that is my figure looming above him.  He’s not afraid, though – rather interested, but quietly so, a long moment spreading between us where we appraise each other’s souls through the windows of our eyes.
 
He bleats, a tiny sound, a sound that makes me smile like a lunatic, and prance in place.  What the hell?  How cute!  It inspires me to find him something tasty as he attempts to wobble onto all fours, toppling down a few times as I trot away and come back; it’s not much, but the fresh, green shoots of bamboo make my mouth water as I set them down in front of Duir.  The small creature gives my residual saliva only the smallest of reproachful glances before he takes his first lustful bites, happily munching away with his tuft of a tail spinning.


[  OOC: BABY MAGIDEEEEEER ]


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Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#2
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
The Thief didn't know what caused her to return to the Labyrinth. Perhaps it was because of the memories that were associated with such a land - the good memories and the bad. She remembered the battle, remembered Mauja's flaming birds as they cascaded toward Tembovu while she rushed her way out of danger. She also remembered the beautiful exchange in gifts for the Elephant King after the Moon Goddess had healed him. Regardless, memories were memories, and they were there to stay. At least she had them to hold onto when she felt like nothing was going right.

The further she stepped into the land and between the stalks of bamboo that shot toward the sky, the more her feeling of unease began to die away. Marembo, her polecat companion, seemed to enjoy the view of this land the most out of the two of them. He had no association with this land other than what Rexanna fed him through the bond. Despite that feeling, he was content and rather quite excited. Rexanna had spent most of her time admiring the land as it regrew from the destruction that happened not that long ago, losing herself in her mind. The polecat always had ways of getting her attention, however. He found comfort laying across her withers, clutching to her mane and when he needed to get her attention, he would sharply tug on one of the dual toned strands and squeak to her. Which he just so happened to do. Puffing out a sigh, Rexanna faltered in her steps to swing her head around - watching the gold and brown marbled creature with an almost frustrated look. "Remy, please. What do you want now?" She sighed, seemingly out of frustration of being pulled from her thoughts. Yet, the polecat's cheeks lifted in what he thought to be a smile before tugging a bit more - a sign to the mare that he wanted to climb off. Rexanna nodded to him, shifting over to one of the stalks of bamboo. She watched him as he grabbed onto one of the stalks and did his best to scramble to the ground. Her ears flickered in uncertainty of whether or not she should continue, but he always found her regardless. So why did it really matter if she explored a bit without the tiny trouble maker?

Remy climbed to the ground and watched as Rexanna made her way through more stalks of bamboo, careful to listen for where she would go. The only thing the polecat really wanted was to do something interesting. With that in mind, Remy began to crash through the undergrowth. He danced through the bamboo without any trouble, using his snake-like body to its maximum proficiency. Rexanna was still listening, however, hearing the crashing of leaves and mild squeaks that her companion said out of surprise. He sent her a few images as he ran across the shadowed undergrowth, nothing of particular interest - until she heard something that seemed demanding of her attention. Remy did his best to beat the mare to the event, which was a lot easier for him than it was for her. He could weave around the stalks whereas Rexanna had to find her own ways around - careful to avoid getting her golden chains stuck in any branches that poked out just enough to grasp onto her trinkets. Instead, Remy crashed through the undergrowth, following the beast that created the sound. He peeked out from under the brush, noticing a unicorn and companion. He tugged at his bond for Rexanna, excited with his findings. Meanwhile, Rexanna sighed mentally at the neediness of her companion. As she approached the brush that Remy had been standing under, he ran out straight for the strangers. His run was a bit of a comical thing to see, but Rexanna felt nervous nevertheless. She tore after him, crashing through the bamboo to come face to face with the stranger and his companion.

She marveled at the fact for a mere moment before glaring at the polecat that had stopped a few feet from the two with a smug look on his face, almost as if he was saying "look at what I found!" Rexanna's blue gaze sought out the unicorn's, offering him a small apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry." She admitted, a frown finding her face as she let her gaze drop to her companion. Instead of feeling bad about his actions, the polecat gestured her gaze to the pieces of egg that he was sure the little deer had emerged from. Rexanna let her gaze land on the small cerndyr, remembering what Ashamin's newborn companions looked like at their own hatching. The smile returned to her face, and she looked to the stallion with a smaller look of apologies, but happiness for him all the same. "I believe a congratulations is in order?" Her voice was gentle, undertoned with the apology of the polecat rampage. All the while Remy just sat there, marveling at the cerndyr as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
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@Rikyn hope you don't mind! :D it's a bit all over the place at the moment. xD
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Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

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
#3
My first sign that something was coming had been a very distinct sensation of alert, followed by a mild fear, coming from Duir, who had stared out into the bordering, green stalks with such intensity that I’d followed his gaze. The bamboo had rustled, rattled, at last revealing what appeared to be some sort of mutated raccoon coming for us.

Duir recovers more quickly than I do. Before I’ve had time to back pedal two steps, his fear has dissolved into friendly curiosity, the eager pull to become friends strong as it is with all young creatures. Bounding and prancing shakily forward (he almost careens over once, twice), he eagerly lowers his dark nose towards the golden backed weasel beast, oblivious to or not concerned about the arrangement of teeth it might have. His tail swishes swiftly about his dappled backside, a loud and grating bleat of greeting escaping his mouth (I will come to learn that deer make very few pretty noises, despite their physical grace).

I’m still quite startled, however, as the very, very pretty stranger reveals herself some few seconds after the peculiar ground monster. I look quite shameful with my tangled hair splayed indignantly about my neck and shoulders, the darting light of worry still flashing through my golden eyes that are locked on the polecat – until she arrives, that is. Her golden back shimmers in the light of the Moon’s prize grove, crystal eyes framed with ink; trinkets shine on her face.

She apologizes for arriving at such a time. Her bonded does not seem to share the same polite regard, about as interested in Duir as Duir seems to be in him, but I honestly don’t mind. It’s not like she saw me cleaning him up, at least.

It was… unpleasant. All that remains of that horror is the shiny shell. I cover the shudder of my body with a full blown shake to put my mane back where it belongs. When all is said and done, I smile at her, finding that it’s easy to do. I’m in a particularly good mood (maybe it’s this winterless, sing song soul all tangled up in mine) and she’s particularly good looking.

"Thank you," I answer, nodding to her in greeting. I don’t really know what else to say. It’s awkward, being a deer dad.

"I’m Rikyn," I say next, because it makes sense, right? – and I point at the gold embellished, newborn buck, using my horn as I always do, smiling like an overly happy loon because it’s the first time I’ve got to introduce him to anybody (and she happens to be super pretty), "and that’s Duir."

[ OOC: :D:D:D:D ]

@Rexanna

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Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#4
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
The bleat took the polecat by surprise, his little furry brows wrinkling for a moment before he simply squeaked a reply, oblivious to knowing what this creature even said to him. His little tufts for ears straining forward as he sat back on his haunches, pulling his little black paws into his chest and leaning forward to inspect this giant creature and the mystical aura that surrounded him. Remy's little nose wiggled as he took in the cerndyr's scent, trying to place it in a bank to remember for the future (should he really need to). His eyes weren't great (though shown in a similar blue color to Rexanna's own eyes), yet his nose was where he managed to learn what he needed to. Scents were his way of life - he knew just what the snails and lizards smelt like and how to hunt them. However, the idea of this creature and just how large it was in comparison to him, should have turned the polecat off from becoming curiouser. But the polecat was still young and quite frankly, foolish and often sought Rexanna to try and save him in predicaments like this.

At least this interaction was interesting instead of saving the polecat from an all too large bird he tried to sneak up upon.  Rexanna finally let her gaze land on the cerndyr's bonded - taking note of his deep chocolate pelt as he shook himself off. Her eyes lingered momentarily on his golden markings, watching them glimmer just as her own golden pelt did. It was his eyes that distracted her the most, where her coat was golden and cream (a seemingly opposite color palette to the stag that stood before her), she was blessed with blue eyes instead of that all too beautiful swirling gold. He nodded to her, and she dipped her head in return. Her golden chains slid across her face in the small movement, as he began to speak again. "It's nice to meet you Rikyn and -" She turned her head then to the little deer who seemed to be very interested in her own companion. "Duir. I'm Rexanna, and this is Marembo." Her voice was gentle, but seemed to strain a bit on her pronunciation of the polecat's name. She nodded to the little weasel creature that was very intrigued by the deer. "I tend to call him Remy, it's easier for me to say." A chime of laughter escaped her lips at that comment. She hadn't named the polecat, and the way that Tembovu seemed to effortlessly pronounce the name of the polecat was now something she grew envious of.

The Thief stepped further into the clearing, her chains brushing against her sides with her movements until she stood closer to Rikyn - her blue gaze leaving him and returning to her polecat. "He hasn't learned his manners yet. Usually he decides to go rampaging in, pretending he's some sort of predator." She joked, her eyes dancing over to Rikyn to see his reaction of it. "Of course, Remy's pretty much harmless unless you're a fly." She laughed once again, shifting her weight and letting her eyes land back on the deer. There was so much contrast between all the cerndyr's she had seen here in Helovia, but if she had to say which one was the most beautiful - it would probably be Duir. Part of her entirely partial to the gentle golden details of the deer, still spotted in his youth. "He's beautiful." She commented, partially as a murmur to herself. Remy let one of his ears flicker slightly with the idea of this deer possibly being more beautiful than he was. For being so tiny, he was full of jealousy. Of course, Rexanna found him beautiful as well - more so from the white and golden that spotted through his pelt and the little black mask that lined his face. He was so similar to her, and in that fact she found it to be vainly stunning.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn DUIR IS SO CUTE.
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Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

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
#5
Amusement trills through me, unrequited, ushered in from the fawn’s heart as Remy pulled upwards onto his haunches, becoming a gold swathed and dappled tree. That they match just now dawns on my thoughts as I glance over at him with exasperation, not at all used to the sensation of being two beings, especially as easily delighted as the half which Duir is.

He ignores me. They sniff at each other curiously, Duir ending the gesture by sweeping his crownless skull upwards in the most regal way I’ve ever seen a baby do anything, large ears pulling about so that he stands like a King of Children and the Forest all in the same visage. It’s in his eyes, those big, emerald pools that twinkle with something reminiscent of the bottomless Starpool; he looks up towards Rexanna with his bonded when her sweet serenade ushers forth again.

His young gaze twinkles with earnest bashfulness at being mentioned by such a pretty mare in all the ways mine shines in slanderous, arrogant glee. She almost stumbles around her own companion’s name, which makes Duir’s soul twinkle with humor almost as much as it does my own – but he manages to hide his from making it to his face, while my lips curve into a deeper smile than the eager one already presented.

She seems to know, changing it to Remy, which sings with truth as much as her laughter makes me want to laugh along with her. Instead, my smile becomes dopey, and Duir awkwardly returns his focus to the polecat, disinterested in (perhaps even ashamed of) youthful unicorn male desires. A small snort busts from his nose – almost like an exasperated laugh.

Her chains sing, too, when she sweeps in closer, trailing the womanly perfume that all ladies seem to waft about carelessly, her curves all the more obvious where the gold presses against her own shining pelt. She continues the conversation about our companions – I obviously know very little about my brand new deer. She, on the other hand, has a firm grasp of her Marembo. Her laughter does inspire my own this time, my aureate eyes moving again to the pair of bonded creatures, Duir now prancing on his delicate, willow legs towards a nearby fallen log, eagerly glancing back to Remy as if inviting him to follow.

"They seem to get along alright," I say with a glance back to the blue eyed beauty alongside me.

Duir’s heart thrums with touch, touch, look, move, go, go, but they are not words: they are urges. My hooves move as if to follow him despite the fact that I want to stand here and talk to Rexanna, that I’m looking now with the hope she’ll turn her crystal gaze again my way, blessedly saved by her mentioning one truthful fact: that Duir is beautiful.

It makes him stop dead in his tracks (subsequently culling my own impulsive movement as well), his little head rising with his forest eyes broad and luminous, almost glistening as panic and delight meld into one throbbing emotion, beating against my arrogant joy that she praises my newborn companion so. He is beautiful, though, all struck with lightning, alive with forest shadow and shining gold. While I had always thought I’d wind up with a griffon or a hellhound like my parents, the mere sight of him had chased those dreams away. He was real, a true gift from a trail of beautiful, golden light; besides, we look good together, if I may say so myself.

It’s my turn to laugh now, not the awkwardly social laughter born of another’s, but a true rolling river of sound. Duir’s shock is so stunningly different than my own feelings on the matter, his little face so very, very emotional that it’s hard not to let out a good row of chuckles at the matter.

"It’s a good thing to be told you’re handsome by a pretty woman, Duir!" I call out to him laughingly, winking at Rexanna playfully. Something in my shout brings the buck back down from his surprise, his tail again whirling as his brows furrow at me, a rough snort wrinkling his nose slightly before he bounds back off towards the fallen tree.

"He means thank you," I continue to jest, because rather his soulful urges have changed from the curious pull of youth to touch the shit out of everything to going away. I, on the other hand, am going no where. He will just have to deal with that, I think, the first of many thousands of times I will think this in our lives together. "I must be well liked by some Divine being or another."

I smile and chuckle, playfully, not really meaning my words while meaning them at the same time. I had been told by the Time God that I was worthy of his pride post Bear God slaying, after all. Such a thing made a boy’s head grow exponentially – and it had already been pretty big before then.

"How long have you and Remy been together?" I ask, eager to continue the conversation.


[ OOC: eeeeee thank you! I'm in love with him already <3 ]

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Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#6
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
Remy watched the cerndyr bound on strong legs toward a fallen log. His head tilted slightly with wonder and the possibility of adventure without having his bonded to watch over him. Slinking over to the new companion, Remy let his beady blue gaze flicker up to him for a moment almost asking "what're we waiting for, let's go!" Yet, he understood the pause as the emotion between the bond from him and Rexanna was getting a bit confusing for the polecat. Turning his head to look back at the two and patiently waited.

The Thief smiled with a small nod to Rikyn. "That they do." Her comment hummed briefly as she glanced to him and caught his eye. A smile crossing from her lips to fall into her face - something she hadn't really had happen in awhile. Shaking her head slightly, she let her gaze fall back on the cerndyr and her companion, stifling a giggle as Duir's reaction to her comment finally began to pass. She graciously accepted the laugh that escaped Rikyn and shifted her weight, suddenly content with herself. Remy did his best to smile before reaching out in an attempt to reach out at Duir in an effort to tug him away. However, before the polecat could reach him, the time had passed and he was bounding back closer toward the fallen tree. Remy basically had to do a strange mix of a run and a gallop, his long slender back slinking across the ground in a strange vertical S shape as he raced to his new friend, afraid to lose sight of the giant beast among the grasses.

Meanwhile, Rexanna caught the wink and lowered her head away from him momentarily while she shot a glance back toward the fallen tree. She listened, her pale ears flitting with his words but saying nothing. She just listened. Something she rarely felt like doing anymore, but information was something that could be useful. And hadn't she just given her own sneaks a task to meet someone and learn something? Who's to say she couldn't be doing the same thing all while enjoying another's company that seemed to enjoy her company just as much. She turned her head back to Rikyn, her blue gaze sliding over him once more. She took note of their height differences, and the rugged scents this creature had. He didn't have the salty smell that Ilios did, nor the mystical wonders the Edge held, definitely not the chill that the Basin draped, and not the lush woods scent that Murtagh had. She wondered if he had a home and how long he had even been in Helovia. Perhaps she could learn a thing or two from this stallion.

"How long have you and Remy been together?"

The question seemed to surprise her. Rexanna widened her eyes slightly, trying to count the days and failing. So much had been happening that she didn't even remember when it was that he hatched - all she remembered was really the events that followed it. "I think it's been a couple of weeks now." She laughed, shrugging slightly. "I didn't exactly pay much attention when it happened. There was a lot going on." She admitted, letting her gaze flutter back to him in the hopes of catching his stunning metallic orbs. "I would ask you the same thing, but..." She poked him with a joke, a sheepish grin casting its way over her lips before fading in a giggle. "So I need to be a bit more creative. Where are you from?" She questioned, casually. It was an open ended question and she didn't really mind how he would answer it. Whether he told her what land he visited previous to their encounter to where he hailed from. Anything that would count as conversation was something that she was grateful for. She watched him with a smile across her face, ears perked to catch his every word. The Thief shifted her weight to sit back on her hind a little bit, swishing her dual toned tail against her leg as she got comfortable for their conversation.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn you're welcome :D
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Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Rexanna, without killing her.
Please tag in every post!

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
#7
‘That they do,’ she says, her pale eyes meeting mine in a rush of molten metals and icy depths. It makes my heart beat fast, the blood in my body a little hotter. It makes Duir look at me with an exasperated look I will come to know well. Still, I let my gaze hold her until she breaks it, finding that the thrill rampaging through my systems lingers.

I don’t even laugh when her Remy runs off with Duir, his gait rather odd and moderately hilarious.

Excited to find Marembo as eager as he was to go play, the wobbly fawn bounds away with white dapples shining in the broken sunlight, his strangely loping companion not far, a playful bleat erupting from his lips as he leaps atop the mossy log; my breath tightens in my chest, my heart flutters wildly, because his little hooves slip and clamor across the bark for a moment. I, as much as he, worry that he’s going to fall (but maybe his is more fear he had almost died than my knowing that falling hurts). Thankfully, the bold fellow quickly rights himself, flashing his emerald and gold trimmed gaze my way in reassurance, and pride.

Again, that warm, honey feeling erupts in me, nearly oozes from my pores. It’s a weird way to feel standing next to a pretty stranger, with all your blood running through you like thunder.

The thunder eases into the static rumble in crackling clouds as our conversation returns to Marembo, her smiles easing into a look of surprise that is beautiful enough it could be genuine or feigned. I don’t take the time to wonder, merely slipping into her words, her story. A lot going on, she says, and I do take the time to wonder now if her goings on were of a pleasant nature or not. I certainly hope so, a pretty girl like her…

Duir snorts in the distance.

If only I knew how fitting such a sound was, all lost in my smiles as she grins and looks into my soul again. Where am I from? She wants to know. The answer to that is sometimes harder to give than you’d think. The first option to rise to mind, at least, matches the pine and snow smell that radiates from her shining skin; tucked in the tendrils of her mane are the homesick odors of the lake’s breezy castaways, and the sulfuric waters of the Springs. It makes my hammering heart do an odd belly flip of sorrow, of longing. My belly gnaws at itself in hunger for something that cannot be found in that memory.

Not anymore.

"I was born and raised in the Aurora Basin for over a year," I begin, glancing at her with my rogue’s devious grin (it covers the deeper things coursing through me, it hides my weakness from a Lady I’d seek to impress even on a bad day); I wonder if I should tell her who my mother is. I probably should, as she’s colored almost just like her. It would be awkward to find out Rexanna was my aunt or something some time down the road... "Born the first son to Ulrik the Engineer and Illynx the GildedBlade."

My smile is tarnished, the molten glow of my eyes grows less brilliant; it is only a split second, but even the young deer pauses from his game (trying to crawl into the side of the partially hollowed trunk) to glance over at the unicorn who had fed him bamboo leaves, and seemed so eager to press his thoughts into Duir’s own.

"They do not live there anymore," I continue, the shortest of pauses falling between those words and the last, and in the meantime, my smile has returned, bright as ever, "and neither do I. I live no where now, doing as I please."



@Rexanna

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Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#8
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
The aura that filled the labyrinth was soothing and invigorating. The feeling of life vibrated against the green stalks of bamboo as they reached for the sky, cupped with a hint of majesty that encompassed the area from Duir’s birth. He just seemed to have that sort of excitement to him, a brand new world to explore with people to meet. It seemed to rub off. Marembo seemed all too thrilled with his new friend and it inevitably rubbed off on the Thief as she listened for Rikyn’s voice. Ears perked in his direction, hanging on every word with interest as her indigo eyes scanned his face - always lingering on his beautiful gilded eyes. Her interest growing further as he spoke of her home. He was born there and chose to leave? She began to wonder what for. Yet, before she could open her mouth to speak he began to talk of his parents. Ulrik and Illynx. The names stuck in her mind. Ulrik, she had heard of. Illynx, not even registering within her memory. So she nodded along, a smile falling on her lips.

I’ve heard of Ulrik. Never met him myself. I’m sorry to say I haven’t heard of your mother, though.” She admitted, offering him a small shrug. “I’ve only been here a bit over a year now.” Her voice was gentle, but held more curiosity. As he spoke of his parents not living there anymore, she only nodded. Last she had heard from the herd meeting, Ulrik had left for another herd and planned on coming back to take the Sentinel metal as they deteriorated into dust on the Basin’s borders. Illynx, she wasn’t sure where the woman had gone, but would be sure to keep that name in her memory on the off chance she met her. Yet, he continued and his smile was contagious. She smiled back, sliding closer to him. “I see. It must be nice being your own boss. Personally, I prefer the protection of a herd.” She shifted her weight, golden chains slithering across her body with tiny clinking noises. I’m more of a lover than a fighter, you see.” Offering him a playful wink, a giggle erupted from her throat.

She wasn’t sure what had her feeling so great from meeting Rikyn and Duir. But she had an idea it was probably due to the fact that her emotions were being insanely influenced by Remy as he played with Duir in the hollowed out tree. The polecat had decided to play a mock game of wack a mole, popping his head out of random holes in the tree to do his best to surprise the cerndyr. It was perfectly timed with a squeak each time, his own version of a snicker of his own pleasure. He was having a blast and so it rubbed off on the Thief through their bond. As Rexanna situated herself beside Rikyn, she realized as she closed the gap that she had to look up to him. It was a feat she was used to, but it helped her feel content in her stature. “I do live in the Basin, however.” Rexanna offered him another smile before taking a glance over to Remy as he continued to pop out of the holes in the log.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn
[Image: 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!

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
#9
I’m not surprised that she knows who dad is – just about anyone walking into the Basin would have to ask what the sentinels were, and how they’d got there, even if they were falling into nothingness without his care. However, why she doesn’t know my dam is answered as she generously shares how long she’s been in Helovia, as well; only a year. It’s not that much time at all, really, but I don’t have much more of it here than she does, despite having been born in the mountains she’ll return to when our conversation ends.

It’s probably good she doesn’t know mother. While my dad isn’t the best at making friends, and is what some would call “antisocial” and perhaps even “crazy,” mother definitely wins in the who I’d rather avoid contest. I’m also not the only one who feels this way about her, to be sure, remembering plenty of looks and attitudes from the past cast in her direction; it is perhaps good to meet someone who can know only her name, not who she was. A Lady, revered and respected, but equally feared, and loathed beyond the perimeters of her glacial haven.

I would only be revered. I think as much when the way her words trail off almost invite me talk more about them, and so I say nothing more than what she already knows, unless she asks.

I lose some of my manly focus as her hooves slip her perfumed body ever so closer to my own, the soft song of her adornments luring my eyes to her playful wink, her fairy’s grin. Somehow I can’t help but laugh along with her for a moment when she proclaims her adeptness at love, rather than battle, mostly because I truly believe her. There are very few marks along her ivory and gilded bodice, and she approached me with almost all her defenses down. Definitely not a soldier.

I should get better at noticing these things right away, not just after someone’s told me…

"It’s fun most of the time," I respond, a plethora of emotions rising to the surface as I think of my adventures – the places, the people, the pain, and the fear, the beckoning of death – most of them pleasant, but a few truly terrible. For the first time, I weigh them together, for the smallest fraction of a second, wondering if doing what I please is worth all the struggle. "Sometimes it’s dangerous though. It is certainly not the life of one who is not a fighter."

I had at least noticed her scent, and perk up a bit (from my dark memories of pain) as she affirms that my guesses at her origins in Helovia are correct. My smile, like hers, is alive with the vibrancy of the game going on outside our own conversation, and I show the newness of my bond by occasionally swaying, twitching, or stepping against my will. This time, however, the grin is my own, because I knew something before she told me.

Unfortunately, it’s timed just as Remy makes his first successful wack-a-polecat appearance, and Duir topples from a top the log, a rather ungraceful sound blurting from his mouth as he becomes all legs, and infantile terror, dropping to the labyrinth floor. It makes my mouth drop open and my eyes widen, as if it’s happening to me, and I’m forced to stomp my right foot into the ground (while Duir laughs in the distance at having fallen, as soon as he discovers he’s fine, of course) to rid myself of the frantic beating of a heart that isn’t mine.

"I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that at all," I exasperatingly admit within the first hour of having made this bond with Duir, shaking my head as I look at him, that same warm rush of emotion flooding me again as his emerald eyes meet mine, "it’s weird."

The deer’s ears flick backwards, his damp black nose snorting in a way that almost says, “right back at you,” before he’s back at stuffing his nose in the holes in the log, looking for Remy (and frustrated his head won’t fit), tail whirling in delight.

"What’s brought you so far south?" I inquire after gathering myself, returning to the lady’s last words (as a gentleman should), pairing my words with a lopsided grin, "enjoying the last bit of cool before Tallsun comes to devour us with its heat?"


@Rexanna

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#10
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
Her gaze didn’t leave her companion as Rikyn began to speak. Her ivory ears flickered to him as she listened, taking in his response to her earlier comment of being a lover not a fighter. All Rexanna could do was offer him a nod with a gentle laugh. “Most of my sparring has been between herdmates. I got my ass handed to me by the Haruspex, and then again a bit later by Erebos.” She turned her ebony marked face to look upon Rikyn once more, letting another small laugh escaped.

However, when Marembo did his feat of popping out of the log that sent Duir flopping all over the log and Rikyn to stamp his hoof hard into the floor of the labyrinth. The cerndyr makes a strange sound and then recovers, all while Rexanna’s companion watched with beady blue eyes of worry that he might have just given the creature a heart attack. How awful he would feel if he just killed this newborn fawn. But instead he watches like a cat, eyes just above level with soft round ears poking out of the holes as he waited for Duir to continue the game.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that at all, it’s weird.” Rexanna nodded to him, refraining from laughing at the ridiculousness she had found herself in. “It is strange. I never thought anything like it existed until I came here.” She admitted, a sheepish grin finding her lips. Remy sunk back to the bottom of the log, watching with pure joy as the cerndyr stuck his nose into the little holes. He watched patiently a couple of times before popping out of random holes, then waiting for him to pop his nose back into the hole that he had just erupted from. This time, however, he stuck one little black hand up to touch Duir’s nose gently - in an almost comforting yet playful way of saying “i’m here, but I could be there” as he popped his head out of another hole. A squeak of delight escaping his tiny frame.

Rexanna, however, let her gaze seek out the golden pools of Rikyn as he questioned her. A small shrug escaping her frame while he offered her a lopsided grin. “Doing my best to avoid responsibility. Plus, meeting people is always welcome.” Her voice was soft as she returned his gentle grin, batting an eyelash his way. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been in the Labyrinth. The first time I was here was during the battle for it, and… well, that was very exciting of course.” A shudder ran down her spine, remembering the flaming birds as they flew from Mauja straight for Tembovu. “What about you? Do you melt in the Tallsun heat?” Cocking her head to the side, she let her gaze fall on the chocolate beast to her side. A giggle surpassing her lips.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn
[Image: 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!

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
I still smile at her, drinking in the bells of her laughter, as she tells me of her battles. It’s interesting that she’s been in any, and also makes me respect her a bit more, that she understands the importance of being strong, and capable. That I also know both of her partners (if the Haruspex she speaks of is still Ashamin; he would be the third name I know to hold the position within my lifetime, and so I wouldn’t be too surprised if it’s someone completely new, now) is something which deepens the forming bond between us. It’s always good to hear Erebos’ name, even though thinking of Ashamin alongside my strong, handsome brother is slightly bothersome, and the smile that adorns my features blooms with the glowing warmth that can be found on the faces of boys, when they speak of their truest friends.

"I sparred with Erebos recently, myself," I say, negating to mention my feelings about the painted Haruspex (should she think fondly of him, and thereby lesser of me), "he’s so much stronger than he was when we were kids. I guess it makes sense though, his father having been the General for all those years."

Duir’s toppling and the conversation it inspires draw another chord in which we are similar, things that, to a young man, strike chords of harmony within myself that, surely, means we are meant to be friends. Mostly, however, its that she’s pretty, and that I’m foolish, and, well, in the midst of certain physical developments that make me highly interested in females. It also inspires a wonder as to where she’s from, that bonds weren’t common place. Even in the Nightwalk, some of the herd members had hounds, deer, or griffons of their own.

"I wouldn’t have remained in such a place, either," I remark with a playful grin. In the distance, Duir’s heart explodes with delight as a paw touches his nose, and the polecat appears from an entirely different hole. His searching increases its pace, questioning the peculiar magic that seems to be happening here with a restless abandon that only the very young seem to have. "It’s definitely not what I expected. Maybe I just never paid enough attention to the bonds of others know what to expect."

I don’t know what kind of animal Duir even is, though I’ve probably been told. He’s a deer, of some kind, but deer are brown, and basic, with cream bellies. Duir is magical, obvious as the gold that glitters across his body, and that makes him as much a deer as a dragon is truly a lizard.

I don’t say as much. She’ll likely think less of me if I don’t know.

More similarities continue to spawn; we’re irresponsible, we fought the same God in this very stretch of Helovia. Where she shivers, however, I try my best to hide my own fear which the rises at the memory of the wolves, nodding a yes to her question before I ever speak. Over at the log, Duir looks up at us with wonder at this new course of emotion, that seems to suggest something grand and dangerous, but the squeaks of his friend, Remy, quickly draw his attentions back to bobbing his nose in and out of the log’s holes; the horse creatures were also not doing anything obviously dramatic in any way, which was boring in comparison to magically appearing polecats.

"Certainly," I state, the small remnants of what (hopefully) will become a beard evident, not only in winter, but the warmer months as well, such as my sire’s, or Uncle Torleik’s, "being born and bred in the mountains of mountain people makes the heat particularly loathsome. While it keeps me good and snug during the snows, it sucks in Tallsun.

"Should you like to find me then, it will be alongside rivers, unless it’s dark," I laugh, trying out one of her playful winks myself to see how it feels.

It feels girly, so I definitely won’t be doing that again.

"I fought the Wolf, as well," I proudly state, my braggart’s nature worming its way in to compensate for my girly winking, "I guess it was more exciting than I recall, if I missed seeing you there."



@Rexanna

Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#12
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
He’s so much stronger than he was when we were kids.” She lifted her head to look upon Rikyn for a moment. A smile finding her lips gently as she watched and listened. “His father… Is Deimos, right?” She mused curiously. “He seems very General like. It’s facinating to me, learning of what this place was like before I arrived.” A small laugh escaped her lips as her eyes flickered with a spark of light. “It was a little strange, honestly. I was pretty much running for my life when I came across here - got taken to the Basin by Thranduil, and first met Deimos with what seemed to me at the time as a cold shoulder. I guess he’s always like that though.” Her thoughts escaped her out in the open, oceanic eyes seeking Rikyn’s to see what he had to say about it. What if there was a time where her Lord wasn’t so cold, so resesrved and pulled within himself. What was he like before then? What happened to make him that way?

And even still, the conversation continued and Rexanna nodded, turning her head back to the polecat cerndyr shenanigans. She nodded, feeling a slight amount of humor grow within her chest at the enjoyment Remy was getting out of the entire event. “I didn’t know it was possible, really. It’s nice though. Having that extra bit of sanity.” The Thief admitted, letting her gaze linger on Duir a bit longer. He seemed to be enjoying it just as much as Marembo did. The polecat popped out of another hole reaching for the deer, squeaking in delight and nearly falling over himself with the enjoyment he was getting out of this spontaneous meeting. But as Rikyn began to speak again, she turned her gold adorned face toward him.

And then he winked.

Rexanna giggled to herself. “I’m from a very mountainous place before Helovia. So the Basin just seemed very, well, homelike.” She admitted, letting her gaze stay on the stallion as a smile softened on her lips. “I’ll keep my eye out around the rivers then.” She grinned. Of course, this interaction was a very pleasing experience. She’d love to see him again at some point. And as he began to speak of the Wolf fight here in this land, she nodded. “Halfway through, I saw Mauja’s birds go out toward the Wolf and Tembovu - I decided to get the hell out of there before I turned into a crisp.” She half laughed, half reminiscing in the fact that Tembovu had been so very badly burned and hurt that day. So changing the subject, she looked away from Rikyn for a moment back to Duir and Remy. “It was before I found out I had my magic.” She nodded, offering a small smile.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn
[Image: 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!

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
#13
An amused smile plays across my face as she correctly assumes who Erebos’ dad is; I guess I get so caught up sometimes in my stories that I forget others may not know these people. It’s worse when they are from the Basin, because it leaves even more room for assumptions, and even more so when she’s pretty and distracting. While she admits she knows little in so far as what Helovia was like before she came, she openly shares what she does know.

It’s my turn to laugh when she accuses Deimos of having a cold shoulder. Maybe he does, but he’s always been that way to me, and I’ve come to know him better than some. While my mother had wanted to reap the Reaper, either to place him as artwork on her cavern walls or simply to say she’d done it (it was hard to tell with her), I’d always thought of him as big Uncle Deimos. Grumpy like every adult ever, and certainly aloof, but he wasn’t really mean in the way it takes to just ignore someone.

I would know. I am mean in that way.

"He’s not cold at all," I say through my chuckles, which ripple into submission as I hope she doesn’t think I’m laughing at her – rather that everyone seems to be afraid of my thoughtful Uncle, me included, "he can be a bit… imposing though. I guess it’s a natural side effect of having the death touch."

“Death touch” is given a verbally dramatic flair to accentuate the danger of the magic Deimos has without blatantly saying as much, adding silliness to something not silly at all, as Erebos and I had done most of our lives when it came to our parents.

I want to add that Uncle Deimos is a good man, a good man in all the ways that Thranduil is a fool, or my mother is a conniving bitch. Duir looks up at these harsh sentiments with a curious and offended expression, glancing back down at Remy for a moment in disbelief that he’s been bonded to something so bitter, and so young, before his game continues. Between his look and the jilted cries of my better self, I keep these thoughts to myself.

“…extra bit of sanity,” she’s saying. Duir is trying to help Remy not fall over, not blaming Remy a bit for not doing the same for him, probably because deer are so much bigger than polecats, even when the deer is only a newly hatched from a shiny orb fawn. As soon as the buck is assured his new friend is fine, the game continues, Duir occasionally poking a hoof into a hole, rather than his nose, now.

I don’t know if its sanity or the absence of it, as I try to cope with the incessant barrage of my thoughts against Duir’s elated flow of feeling, a pressure slowly building at the front of my head that signifies I’ll probably have a headache tonight.

"Anything is possible," I say next, genuinely thoughtful in its tone. I truly believe this, with all my heart, and I say this while looking out through the shadowy slits between the bamboo, leading to where She lies. Mortals could share their souls with other beings, pull the heavens into disarray, and slay Gods. If these are only possibilities in Helovia, the Nightwalk, or lands of equal magical magnitude, I am not sure why anyone has ever lived anywhere else, or would want to.

My wink makes her giggle, which makes my skin burn around my neck and face. Unlike some lighter pelted things, though, my black nose doesn’t burn brighter in any significant way but its temperature, so Rexanna probably won’t notice. Still, I keep my eyes for a good while on the groves of sun dappled bamboo, feeling her gentle stare bore into the side of my face until I can bare it no longer. Her eyes, inspiring yet another smile as they meet mine, are blue like the rivers I’ll be waiting for her by; a young man’s sentiments, promises cast in the midst of the moment that, for a brief few moments, anyway, might even be true.

She speaks about Mauja, a figure who looms in my own history like the mountains themselves, a voice I’d never heard, but which has always been present; his name dapples the history of my dam, and it makes him, in this way, part of me as well. The Frostheart is named alongside Tembovu, who is less magnanimous but no less present in my memories. Tall, freakily so, and King of all the Edge, making three great men listed from her lips in less than ten minutes.

Just who is this girl? Even the pressure of the headache seems less as I look at her for the first time as more than a doll to be admired. Maybe I should have expected as much with her ease of tongue, how her laughter has seemed to string me along with the gentle grace of a tacit professional, but I’m too damn arrogant and foolish to really notice these things until they are obvious.

It’s time you grow the hell up, I demand of myself. What good it does, who knows.

"Magic doesn’t really help if you haven’t the heart for war to begin with," I parrot from the lips of unicorns much older and experienced, and my own small well of experience against the Gods of the Rift and the few mortal enemies I’ve bested. However, despite my attempts to hone or utilize the art, I do have a natural talent for acting (or so I think), especially if it makes me seem better than I am, and I really have thought about how bad war is once or twice. "People die. Even worse, sometimes they don’t. They just have to keep on living, broken in ways even Gods cannot mend."

I think of Erthë, and her hobbling pace, and it makes my heart clench in pity of her. It aggravates me that I think about her at all. I think of Aunt Psyche, the Dark Empress of the Lord Frostheart, another mountain of my life, and the tale of her severed horn, left in the desert with the last of her thinly spread sanity, broken clean away by a raven colored mare. I remember the distant sight Mauja himself, weeping over the body of an owl, seemingly dead, though I hadn’t stayed to see, and how he had also falling over the bleeding, broken body of a pretty girl, a dead girl that was colored like rusty dust cast over snow.

It makes me swallow the saliva that has taken on a sour taste in my mouth. It makes Duir stop his game entirely, watching quietly from his distance with ears lifted.

"Still, magic surely can’t hurt, either," I distract myself from the topic just as she did, finding that, now that I’ve looked at it, I’d rather shove it back wherever it was before. I’m not ready to know that the world is often dark, and terrible, though it never ceases to throw these truths in my face. "I have some tricks, too."



@Rexanna

Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#14
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
He spoke of Deimos and Rexanna’s attention was immediately drawn to him. The Reaper didn’t speak much to her, but she tried her best to serve him. She didn’t always do her best, but she at least tried to please him, which was something that she didn’t even know if she had the power to do. He was a shadow, a dark veil over the Basin that seemed to appear, speak little words, and return into the crevices of the mountains and caves. But she was alright with that, in all reality. She admired him, looked up to him even. She imagined him to be that distant fatherly figure that she never really had. He spoke little, but gave her constructive criticism in his mannerisms. That for her, was more than enough. Yet, when Rikyn spoke of the “death touch” her ears swiveled in uncertainty. “I didn’t know that he had that.” She admitted, curiously wondering how it worked and what it meant for him. Did that mean nobody could love him? Hug him? Touch him even? Is that why he stayed so distant? She contemplated the many times she thought about reaching out to him to touch the stone pillar of the Basin and wondering now what had stopped her.

But he continued, and she nodded along, watching his face as he thought. Watching for the movements just barely skin deep. But when he turned to look at her, she caught his beautiful gilded eyes and seemed to stare for a few moments longer. But his demeanor changes, despite the playful atmosphere their companions had willingly tossed across the both of them in their game of hide and seek. She watched and listened, his words growing more serious. Rexanna’s smile began to falter as she nodded along with him, remembering the illnesses of the Rift wars, remembering Tembovu and all his scars, remembering her own self, covered in so much blood that wasn’t even her own. A shiver ran down her spine, sending her chains in a slight swaying moment across her gilded pelt as she pulled her gaze away. A frown crossing her features, causing Marembo to pop his head out briefly to shoot a glance at her as if saying “i’m having fun, why can’t you?”

Her ivory ears flicked and listened to him as his voice reached her ears once again. She began to nod again until his next words struck a mischievous smile to her face. “Do you?” She questioned, setting her gaze upon the ebony stallion once more. “What sort of tricks?” She asked, cocking her head to the side in innocent stupor. The only magic she had really seen had been mostly fire related, and of course Ashamin’s heart spark magic. She was oblivious to the other types of magic that were out there, but was open to learning all the same. Perhaps Rikyn could be a wise teacher to the non-native mare.

As she waited, curiosity peaked as to if he had ever experienced a magic like her own. Turning her head to the sky, she let her gaze fall upon the dappled leaves of the bamboo as they stretched overhead. “Have you ever seen fireworks?” She inquired him, still keeping her face and eyes to the sky. She felt childish in this instance, feeling strange emotions concocted beneath her flesh in ways she hadn’t felt in years. She had been far too busy surrounded by duty and the threat of death to be focused on just stopping and enjoying a good conversation. She knew it meant a lot to her and she also knew it meant far more for Marembo. The polecat was too tiny to be constantly full of frustration and fear in his tiny marbled body that the simple idea of spending an hour playing with Duir billowed excitement from the tiny creature. He enjoyed it all the same, continuing to play hide and seek with Duir, excited to see his hoof pop into the holes. His paws reaching up to touch the cloven toes with excited powerful squeaks as he continued to peer out at him with bright blue eyes.

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn so uh idk what happened but Rex might have a crush on Rikyn now??
[Image: 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!

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
#15
She didn’t know, she admits; her face says that she thinks this new information is less pleasant than some of the other things she’s been told. I think that “death touch” is a pretty awesome power, and have often reveled in what it would be like to be so powerful, that a mere touch of your body to theirs, could strip a heart of its beating. Of course, I’ve also never thought that this means he can’t participate in things that I take for granted, like nipping at a friends shoulder, or wrapping your neck around someone when either of you need it. I don’t think that, maybe, that’s why he’s so quiet and aloof, because I like to think that he’s just tougher than anyone else, believing, even now, that his solitary nature was evidence of that.

Hell, I’d even tried to shape some of myself around Uncle Deimos. While mother hadn’t liked him, I think she still respected him, in ways, and father had certainly counted the Reaper among his friends. Erebos and Lothiriel certainly loved him, and Erebos had told me even more tales of who he was than my parents had; of course, they were only the tales that Erebos had been told, the nice ones, not the ones involving the numerous wars and violent altercations that the Reaper’s life had led him on. It had colored both my blade brother and I’s vision of the man so that he was, as far as mortal men could be concerned, as close to the goal of True Knight as we could get.

Of course, I’ve also lost almost all sight of that goal, in all the ways Erebos has held fast to it.

In all my thoughts the conversation slips away, and all words that bring to mind the ebony Lord of the Basin fall away for less cheerful memories. I’m glad when the conversation wades itself into less bloodstained waters, discovering that, the more often I replay what I saw in those battles against the keepers of the Rift, the more horror I can recall. I can hear Erebos’ air be pushed out his lungs as I drive my horn towards a crocodile, that same tail I’d sought to puncture sweeping his legs and body clear across a glistening world. I hear the screams, the shouts, the crackle and roar of magic wildly cast at beings that could, potentially, will each of us into nonexistence (though surely our Gods had at least protected us from that). I hear their weeping, and the low sounds of the dying.

War is always horrible, I decide here and now. It is not the way to solve anything, unless you really hate life and happiness, and even I’m not that much of a jerk.

Her bright voice is a distraction, my gaze meeting again with hers to find that she seems genuinely interested. I’m more than happy to oblige, loving any opportunity to talk about myself, and my somewhat unusual arrangement of abilities. I certainly have never seen or heard of anything similar to it at all.

"They’re not very nice," I say with a wicked smile, a smile that alludes to how very rotten inside I can be if one starts pulling away the succulent skins I’ve wrapped myself in, "mostly involving taking the ability to think for yourself away. I believe they are all from the Spark, as His… energy is evident as I draw on them."

It’s an energy I’m familiar with; I’ve met the God three times, and on all occasions, I took my time to get to know as much as I could about him. What I knew was that he cared little for your feelings, the sort of fellow to be direct with his intention and words, and that he was vastly, overwhelmingly powerful. Even after having stood in the presence of the Moon, who was beautiful, desirous, and full of a dark mystery, and their brother the Sun, a true warrior of the world, none of them compared to the magnanimous crackling aura which perforated the air about the Master of Time.

"The first time I met Him I was very small, and I asked to be someone else," I say, the impish smile turning into one that is nostalgic, that remembers a time before when the world had been new, and rich; a time when my sister still travelled with me, before she’d become someone out of my reach. The thought that I might be overly possessive of her, that I am actively denying her the right to be her own person because it is not who I’d have her be, evades me still. It is difficult to unlearn the lessons which ingrain my childhood: that Aithniel, no matter how much I love her, is an object, a tool to be honed and used, because she could serve my people just as well as a corpse. "I think the magic I wound up with might just be His version of a joke. In ways, I get to be whoever, however briefly."

Duir has continued watching, his tail spinning from time to time when one of my words rouses his excitement around the subject of magic, occasionally looking over at Remy to make sure the polecat is catching all this. They’re talking about Gods, and magic! The cerndyr cannot help but be greatly intrigued by discussions of the Creators, and while he certainly wishes they were talking about whoever made the trees (and not who gave them what power or what it was), beggars can’t be choosers. Stooping down ever so slightly as if to invite Remy to perch along his shoulders for a ride, the buck only waits so long before playfully bounding back over to us with loud crashes through the brush, hoping to hear better by being closer; he nearly collides with me upon his return, which earns him a glance that sparkles, momentarily, at how wonderfully new and foolish the buck is.

When I look back at Rexanna (who is looking at the canopy, her gold jewelry glittering in the dappled light), she asks me a peculiar question. Fireworks? I know both of those words, but don’t know what they mean together. I guess this is probably how people feel when father or I start going on about electrical connections and lasers, or if I was to tell her that her brain is really just a collection of wires and buttons that fire on some unknown code of laws, a code I feel like I can break in the few moments I am one with its humming machinery.

"I don’t think so," I answer, because I may have, not knowing what they are, and I’m certainly about to; she’s likely going to show me, as I assume that whatever Fireworks are, she can do it. I could elaborate and ask if they are what my brain immediately pictures – a blazing fire shaping metals and stone, it’s work - but it’s probably not right, and I’m not good at feeling stupid.

I don’t like it. It makes my expression somewhat perturbed to have been made to feel the fool for once, and I remember Själ making a similar scowl.

No wonder no one likes me, if I make people feel like this all the time.


@Rexanna

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Rexanna Posts: 499
World's Edge Mare atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 7 years HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Marembo :: Marbled Polecat :: None Skylark
#16
I’ve become a simple souvenir of someone’s kill
She tore her gaze from the fondness of the canopy to look upon the stallion as he spoke of his magic. A smile crept across his face that she couldn’t miss, her oceanic eyes studying the sudden slight change as he began to speak of himself and everything he could do. He spoke with a hint of pride hidden deep within him, speaking of Gods and abilities that took thoughts from others, in what Rexanna believed to be one of the worst ways of torture. She shuddered at the memory of being trapped by Calstron as he surfaced her memories back home, pulling them out from her mind and playing them back like it was some sort of movie that he had been dying to see.

A small snort escaped her as a shiver rippled down her spine. She turned away from him then, nodding. “I’ve never met the God of Spark.” Her voice was almost timid as she admitted that despite living within the very god’s land, she hadn’t ever met the higher being before. But if he had magic like that, given to the wrong person such as Calstron, only dark and terrible things could happen. There was nothing that feared the Thief more than someone stealing the only thing she could do for herself – her thoughts, her memories. Often, she wondered where life would have led her had she not had those memories to revel in for Cal to find. Perhaps she could have gone many nights without being tortured by the very man that claimed he loved her.

She often wondered if he really truly did love her after all. But those thoughts were drawn away as Rikyn’s voice reached her ears. It pulled her from the darkness her thoughts had dragged her to. His voice, where Cal’s was rugged with dark hints of baritone, Rikyn’s was lighter on her ears. For one, she never had Rikyn screaming at her all hours through the night over how terrible of a creature she was – how in the world his father could have thrown away his crown for a “worthless, frail equine with a useless horn”. Perhaps her and Rikyn had a lot more in common, wishing to be someone else at a young age. “I wouldn’t consider it a joke.” She began, shifting her attention back onto the chocolate stallion with flecks of gold that could almost reflect her as she allowed her gaze to look upon him. “You never know what kind of things can happen when you do that to people.” She admitted, seeking his gaze. “I’ve suffered it first hand.” It was barely a whisper, turning her head away from him and back to the canopy. If it weren’t for the electric feeling within her from Marembo at the sheer excitement of Duir letting him climb up on the cerndyr, she probably would’ve saved face and tried to leave. But no, the polecat kept her drawn there. Besides, she had to show him her magic and pray to the many gods that he wouldn’t use his on hers.

Marembo, reaching up with his tiny black paws, gripped the gentle soft fur of Duir and pulled himself up – slinking his tiny body across the tiny deer before coming to a full rest at his withers (his absolute favorite place to ride) and let Duir begin to bound him back to the creatures they were bonded to. He nearly collides into Rikyn and Marembo lifted his bright marbled face to look upon the stallion with a squeak and his attempt at a toothy grin. Meanwhile, Rexanna let her eyes drift from the canopy back to Rikyn momentarily. “I’m sorry, anyway. The magic I was gifted is pretty interesting, I thought. It’s pretty to look at, at least.” She shrugged, offering him a small smile before sliding herself into more of the center of the clearing where the trees didn’t crowd as much. Her hips swayed with the movement, causing her golden chains that were once a prison to dance along her body. When she came to a halt, she flicked her dual toned tail across the grasses to her ashen hocks, lifting her exotic striped face to the canopy in a way that sent her golden spiraled horn straight in the air. Only a few seconds passed before she felt the electricity humming within her body. She focused it, pushing it forward toward her horn as she felt the warmth begin to grow.

BANG.

Just like that, a loud pop almost like a gunshot was heard as the golden red sparks erupted from her horn. It shot toward the sky but before reaching the leaves of the trees, it erupted once more. It cascaded down in glittering golds and reds, some trails falling faster than others until they were no more other than smoking holes in the very few leaves that had managed to get in the way. Rexanna had turned her head back to Rikyn, excited to see his response. A smile erupting on her lips as if saying ‘whattya think of that?’ And to continue on her previous sentence, she smiled smugly. "But I imagine it can be quite painful as well."

"Talk."
And like the sea—
I’m constantly changing from calm to ill.
Rexanna
image | coding


@Rikyn
[Image: 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!

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
#17
I miss her shivering, hearing only the name of the finest God in all of Helovia. It makes me smile that she hasn’t met him, a sad sort of smile that wonders why she hasn’t. He’s never far from where she is, not like he is from me, now. As a colt I’d often tiptoed along the rim of the lake to peer into the cavern at the mirror (and mad Zikar-Sin’s backside); when mother finally took us to the Veins to meet whichever God we wanted, it had been to the Spark’s severed stone that I’d gone to kneel.

I don’t think I ever even looked at the others. It was not until I stood along the rim of the Starpool, swirling with the spirits of the dead, or within the presence of the Moon that I’d even considered that the other Gods were worthy of my notice.

"There are old tales which say he brought the other Gods to Helovia. I think everyone should meet him at least once," I state, in a matter of fact way. Mother had told me as much, or maybe it was father; it could even have been moon-eyed Zikar-Sin, with all his stories, or some other face that has blurred away with time. Either way, the story was that Time bloomed into existence, and from the crackling might of his power, he had brought the others into existence. Why that made the Gods siblings and not father and children, no one could tell me; at least until I went to the Nightwalk, and learned of the First Gods, who must have gave the Spark his, well, spark. Everything else was sort of obvious to me (though I take for granted the fact that it wouldn’t if no one had bothered to tell me in the first place). The Earth made Helovia itself, so obviously that was important; the Sun feeds the fields with his light, and they fill our bellies. The Moon casts seeds about the world with her winds, while reminding us all to be grateful for the blessings of her Brothers as she casts shadow down upon us all. "It makes the stories easier to believe, that’s for sure."

The stories that were all on a wall in the caverns, not far from where we stood now, etched by some long forgotten person into the stone itself.

All those thoughts on creation topple down as her words chide my choice of words; meeting her eyes, which are sad, and hardened at the thoughtlessness of what I’ve said (what did I say, anyway?), my ears fall to the side of my head. I did know what it did to people, though, because I told them what to do; Volterra, for instance, had been forced to summon a table to save his gut from his own hoof, and Gaucho’s dumb bird had flown right at his face as I’d commanded she do.

Does she mean this residual effect that seems to throw walls up between us, sheer and glass, almost unperceivable, but for her lack of smiles and playful hints? She used the word “suffer;” it settles into my thoughts as the word to focus on here, while I fail to notice the most obvious fact that someone had been cruel to her.

Could it really be that bad to have someone control you? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had someone else tell me what to do with much effect at all.

I, at last, decide to shrug my nearest shoulder to her.

"You must choose unkind company, then. I’ve only used it on people who asked or deserved it," I explain, hating that I feel like I have to defend myself, and still not entirely sure how mention of a God’s joke has translated into this womanly change of emotion (I hate girls sometimes), "magic has no morality. It didn’t seek to make you suffer as it was willed into existence. The person who wielded it maybe did, but not the magic, and not the God that gave it."

Glad for the approach of my buck and his passenger Marembo, my humor returning somewhat at the combination of Duir’s near collision with my side, and the fang bedazzled grin of the polecat. I try my best to let that feeling spread, to push aside the ugly knowledge that the world is cruel and small, I look back at Rexanna as she blessedly allows the conversation to become more amicable.

Watching the sultry sway of her gold draped figure, even Duir cannot help but admire the shine of the gilded trinkets and chains which run along her body, or the ease with which she moves. Standing in a clearing, I watch with curiosity building, the buck alongside me literally prancing in place with excitement. Pretty to look at sounds wonderful to him, and I admit that I wouldn’t mind seeing something pleasant, and not hurtling towards me, as well (like Gaucho’s splendid fire bears).

An ear numbing crack of noise breaks through the clearing; Duir squalls in his heinous deer voice, hooves splaying beneath him as if to flatten his body to the earth in terror, and my ears pin down atop my head as my front end rises from the earth in a startled, partial rear. Lion’s tail sweeping around my haunches almost protectively as I land, I look up at the secondary, less loud boom which erupts from the red projectile, some of my fear (and loathing at its presence) is absolved in the awe of the bright embers which dance across the heavens.

I’m still staring with my mouth open, silent mouthing the words, “what the fuck?!” when she concludes her words with an obvious fact. Her smile is the sort of sideways thing that makes me think she’s mocking me, but my heart is honestly hammering too hard inside my chest to allow a scathing remark to immediately lash through the air towards her.

"I imagine," I almost mumble instead, still looking up at the tendrils of dark smoke which coil about where the heart of the sky eruption had been. Duir, on the other hand, literally dances in place, eager for her to do it again. Please don't oblige him, I almost plead, but refrain, as it would require admitting that I’d found the entire experience disconcerting, in the first place; looking at her at long last, I find an awkward smile lingering on my lips, a small chuckle closing my words. "Be a good way to startle a lingering covey of bats out of your chosen cave, that’s for sure, if you didn’t make the cave fall in while doing it."



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