"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
It wasn't much to look at. I pursed my lips as I regarded the landscape as it rolled by, the pace steady and as easy as my own strides. Row after row of tall, dry-looking trees interspersed over dry-looking ground, rolling hills that gradually grew taller and steeper as the land rose to the west. The sky was blue, the water cold, and all signs pointed towards a shift in seasons altogether alien from what I was accustomed to. But, if I had to be fair - and I do like to give it a try when I get a chance - the place did have a sort of rugged back-wash country charm to it. At least it wasn't humid. That fact alone was enough to make my day; it meant that I was far from home, far far away from the idiocy, the assholes and the glorified bullshit that my life had consisted of so far. It didn't even matter that I was alone. I had taken care of myself since I was big enough to place one foot in front of the other, and that did not change just because I replaced one setting with another.
There was a pleasant warmth in the air as I picked my way through the woodlands. I would never call this a forest. Compared to the dense jungles I spent my childhood in this was barely worthy of the comparison. Too dry, too sparse, too quiet for my taste - where were all the crying birds, the chirping insects, where had the monkeys gone with their shrill cries and wild rampage through a dense canopy? Remembering the homeland made this place seem dead, even emptier as I had no idea what to expect of flora or fauna. Would I be able to find forage, if the grasses weren't the same? Would I recognize a poisoned plant or berry before setting my teeth into it, or would this arid landscape become the burial tomb of a woman too far away from home, dead by her own stupidity?
I wasn't worried, mind you. Death ceased to frighten me a long time ago. There were only so many ways to find it, some more and less pleasant than others - but dead was dead, and may they finally find rest in sweet oblivion. No, death was nothing to fear, merely the goal everyone headed for. Compared to that kind of blissful erasure, life was far more terrifying.
Yet far from being afraid, I found myself aglow with a new sense of excitement as the trees parted up ahead. There, spreading out before my feet lay a whole new world of possibilities, as clearly within reach as the silvery snake of a river coursing through a lush green landscape. A rush of wind swept up from the south and tugged at the crimson of my hair so that the chains jingled and swayed before my face, and I breathed in deeply, as if trying to taste the world on my tongue. It was far to go yet. Many miles of dark green forest lay between the solitary rise I stood upon and the open landscapes ahead, but I still couldn't help but grin. All that space... there had to be others living around here. New people meant new opportunities, and this time I was not going to fail. I screwed up once before, but it would not happen again. Not on this side of the grave!
Long, wistful minutes passed as I greedily absorbed the sights before me, but as a cloud sailed up to cover the sun I turned and moved on down the hill, shivering as cold air fingered its way through the bone-white hairs along my back. It would take some getting used to this climate...
He ventured out into the wilderness – free and untamed, jubilant, buoyant, and savage, drinking in the morning air as if he were a hungry, wolfish predator. They clambered as one bestial unit, over sand and soot, over rock and rubble, over ruin and paradise, slithering in and out of shadow until it wasn’t certain which was which; watery pelt dyed in Stygian pursuits. They were a discordant ideal; so strung by exuberance, but so tempted and tethered and tied together with temptation (enticement, the layers, the lacquer, of danger, of treachery). Though the prince had been instructed by their General to aspire to greatness, to never fold, to preside like a strong, diligent being, he’d nearly always been pressed to these potentials, by these demands, on his own. He’d chased after glory and triumph and vengeance with determination, with diligence, with rapier wit, trials, and tribulations – the slash of his sword and the mercenary degrees of his follies. The world was full of merciless victories, and he’d found them in sea beds and in the folds of darkened forests, between the nooks and crannies of Gods’ sagacity, along the sable corridors and nestled amongst the Machiavellian pursuits of his own companion. Actively recruiting, however, was another measure entirely, and though he’d hunted for beings, individuals ready and eager to make names for themselves, he’d only been marginally successful. Sometimes games were meant to be played, and he’d smirked, snickered, laughed when things went awry and chaos erupted by the trench of his footfalls – and other moments had been calculated with increasing favor. There was no telling what was due for them on this winding road.
They slowed and wandered for a time, over hilltops and beyond streams, flowing down the broken barbs and boughs. Orsino sniffed at the ground and would growl, grimace, hiss, or merely frown, and Erebos wore his handsome features into roguish delight when they finally caught an unfamiliar scent. Rendered into silly, carnivore bliss, they traversed over the fallen logs and sprouting brush, leaping over brooks or stepping lightly upon their precipice simply because they could, delivering catastrophic strides across valleys and puncturing, piercing, slabs of log. Minatory decrees and degrees were only measured on the cruelest-looking branches, shifting his skull downward so his cutlass met splintering wood, then traversing on, finally pursuing the stranger entangled into the enigmatic threshold and its locked gates.
The unknown…that tempted him too.
When the pair, fox and boy, soldier and kitsune, finally glimpsed upon the femme, all they could see was red. She reminded him of the Blood Falls, crimson and blood, tangled in the knots and plumes of rushing water and edges of uncertainty, struck by crème hues and far larger than he. He presided in silence for a moment, determining how to advance forth, before walking forward, confident, assured, self-possessed, as if he’d always belonged here and there (and he had in most cases, born and bred in the wiles and wilds of the Basin, raised to be secure and composed). “Hello!” His voice ricocheted along grasslands and oaks, clambering in a silly spiral of boyish charm, tipping his head to the left in careful perusal, then nodding, bobbing his head, in assurance of respect she’d likely earned somewhere along the way. Erebos continued moving, closer and closer, until he was yards away from her frame, out of shadow and appearing like he belonged on the edges of uncharted, furtive sojourns (or in the fire, in the flames, where the darkness carved a brilliant, blazing inferno), an amiable smile adorning his face. “Welcome to Helovia. I’m Erebos, who are you?”
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want
I'd always possessed a heightened sense of my surroundings. Call it a talent if you will, or merely a bi-product of an unhappy childhood; regardless, there were few things that passed me by even in my less attentive moments. As I was traveling through unfamiliar territory, this was certainly not the case. Though perhaps not going so far as to call it hyper-vigilance, I was still wary of all the sounds and scents that encroached upon me, sensitive to the texture of the ground beneath my feet and keenly aware of every sigh of wind brushing across my skin. I couldn't really pinpoint when the sensation of being followed surfaced from the subconscious, or why I thought so. It was... instinct. A woman's intuition perhaps, or simply the fact that I was more used to the presence of others than the absence of the same. It came to me nonetheless, as I followed down the path of a dried out creek, like a whisper on the wind and a new pressure in the air. Not close, not at first, but persistent, and when the skin along the spine began to tingle with the sensation of being watched, I paused to look around.
Narrowed eyes cut across the scenery with no pretense of hiding their inbred suspicion. Blowing away red strands from the eyes my ears caught the faintest sound, and in a swift, decisive move I honed in on the direction from whence it came - and found myself standing face to face with a stranger.
"Hello!" he said, a clear and cheerful greeting that was met with stony silence. He approached, dark and handsome in a young, boyish and very charming fashion, and with every easy stride I tensed more and more, ready to bolt, to fight, to do whatever it took to come out of this situation with the upper hand. The ease with which this colt had snuck up on me hinted at a familiarity with the land - confirmed as he indeed extended a welcome and mentioned a name that meant nothing to me and could indicate everything from this particular part of the hills, the forest in general or the overall region I found myself in.
A native then. Charming. Or at least he tried to be, but the greeting was crude and poorly phrased, clearly lacking the complicated eloquence I was accustomed to and framed by an accent that sounded foreign to my ears. Not incoherent, but decidedly strange.
(A worrying thought in itself. Was I perhaps not so far away from home as I had thought? Perhaps I should keep moving on, and stop only when the indigenous tribes spoke gibberish.)
Ah, decisions, decisions. What to do now... I could try to overpower this young rogue and demand truths from him, information that would prove vital in future dealings with the peoples around here. I would probably win, but there was always risk involved in open confrontation and if ever there had been a time to conserve ones energies, this was it. There were a few other options I could go with, but after weighing each in turn I decided to settle for the easier route, the long way around so to speak - more time consuming, yet safer in the long run.
Safety was imperative. I could accomplish nothing if I was dead.
"Master Erebos?" I repeated in a surprisingly deep, sultry voice, heavy with accent - and not quite as casual as I would have liked to make it. "It is this ones honor to be Tamaya, a traveler from far to the east and south. This one is pleased to be introduced to your esteemed self."
I made a show of hesitating before continuing to speak, quietly hating every second of this approach - the charades, the pretense, the sweetness in my own fucking voice!
"If one may be so bold as to inquire; this He-lo-vi-a, this is the tree region where one stands?"
Again; it was hardly even worthy of the comparison to a forest, and I was not going to honor it by calling it woodland either. To be crept upon in a place such as this was as close to disgrace as I had ever come, and while it was petty I took some pleasure in degrading the location - if perhaps in ways too subtle for this barbarian to notice. At least he should be able to pick up on my apprehension; I kept my horn firmly aligned in his direction, not openly hostile yet with a clear warning not to approach further without invitation.
Being beautiful had its down-sides. I was not nearly as flirtatious as my blushing coat and voluptuous physique could lead a young man to believe. If he tried anything funny, chances were this boy would find himself returning home without the family jewels, so to speak. Now, wouldn't that be tragic.
It is nothing more than a sense of need, perhaps of boredom, that keeps you moving through the silly little trees in the silly little forest. You have stayed away from this place, opted to keep your sanity rather than dealing with those that trickle through here steadily; all lost, all with one reason or another to act as if the world owes them something. It had been a strange concept to you from the beginning, a place for Helovians to seek strangers to bring into their homes, knowing nothing of them, asking nothing of them, a place for strangers to be offered things they didn’t even know they wanted.
It is still strange, and yet you wander. Wander because of the lack of familiar faces within your home, whether to your own negligence (you had made yourself increasingly scarce, meandering at night to avoid curious eyes, prying questions, or not at all) or whether your little family had become even smaller; wander because there could be someone worth moments of your time.
‘I’m Erebos, who are you?’
You smile as instantly as you hear him, recognize the name, the syllables and the all too confident way that he talks. His voice is followed by that of a woman’s, quiet against the quiet of the forest. The smile turns in to a smirk as you recall the time that you had met him, and how easy it was to fall to deviation, to fall in to him, become totally and completely ensnared. Only as you look to the woman do you notice the way she positions herself, the angle of her horn sending a jolt of anger through you.
Her threat, however subtle she may think it, however mild, does not go unnoticed. Without hesitation you break from the line of the trees, press to your little lion’s side with a smile as you brush your muzzle across his cheek, step trivially in front of him as if you could defend him any better than he could himself. As your eyes lift to meet the girl’s strange ways, strange words, there is a distinct edge, your body tensing for the slightest moment as your smile dissipates.
You hardly notice her height as you look to her, used to being smaller than practically everyone; it is the tone of her muscles, the sculpted way her body holds itself, the odd color of the curls hanging loosely around her neck. “This is the Threshold; it is the only way in or out of Helovia.” You pause, inclining your head slightly. A sideways glance is given to Erebos, yet another smile working its way up your dark lips, laced with memories of mischief, with attempts to provoke him to the devilry you know is never far from his mind.
“Welcome.”
i had to throw her in here for old times sake :DDD
hope you don't mind? <3
please tag enna in every post
violence permitted barring permanent injury / death
In an instant, there seemed to be a battle of enigmas.
He watched her, she watched him, and the young beast felt the air coil, tense, pull taut against the strings of humanity and morality. There were moments of restlessness between the forest limbs and the unwinding shrubbery, and his stare refused to divert away from her, presuming she was on the hunt – too many predators enclosed in one space. Orsino crackled within their connection, a seething, molten mass of sable fox and deluded dreams, but Erebos maintained, remained, in the same composition as before. He wore a duplicitous garb and armor, cloak and dagger, appearing wholly nonchalant, harboring no ill will, no sword tucked behind his back, no dominion of licentiousness curling over his veins. His smile still radiated, his welcoming effervescence still plucked the weight of the leaves and the tangled wear of the Thresholds’ gates and keys, but inwardly, he measured, he calculated, he pondered. As if nothing bothered him at all, his composition was firmly, intricately, intact; cool, calm, self-controlled under the oddest of circumstances. Even when her sword was placed in his direction, the hellion didn’t budge, didn’t break, didn’t shuffle. He knew the depths of his power, what it could do, where it could ensnare, rip, and tear.
She was silent for too long – and he presumed she was machinating as well, going over the facts and figures of possibilities, of intrigue, of devastation, of who could maim who before the next bout of spring wind. The boy’s eyes didn’t even narrow, didn’t even reflect the crude bout of nefariousness gathering from within, of dastardly wakes and soulless plunges – and he was immediately at war with himself, because he’d been on a mission to bring worthy beings back to their icy mountains, to institute a new realm of warriors and disciples.
Master Erebos?, she’d finally spoken, and he wanted to laugh, for he was master of nothing but anger and vengeance, requital and renewal, king of determination and prince of diligence. She continued, providing a long whirl of introductions, where he could pinpoint on a name, a faction, a direction from whence she’d came.
Before Erebos could answer, surprise ruptured and rippled over his features, unbalancing their unreachable veneer as he turned towards the approaching, fellow mischief maker – he hadn’t expected her, back within these valleys again, twisting and intertwining with capers and devilry. Their last concoction together had been silly and ridiculous (but hilarious all the same; a strike against the ramparts and a reverie solidified by their ability to gain nothing). The utter delight of her arrival peeked over the edges of his lips in a disastrous, cunning smile, revealing everything and naught all in the same fiendish element (two halves of a wily, spiteful whole). The brush of her maw along his cheek may have covered it, but the depths of her movements caused the grin to unravel slightly, and he moved ahead of her in kind – protection for protection, brutality for brutality, peering away and back to the newcomer instances later, pretending as if neither had invoked the game. He flicked an ear towards Enna, wondering where her son was, how they might war against this strange mare while simultaneously pulling her towards the Basin, trying with great difficulty not to be enveloped back into his friend’s infernal contortions.
“Helovia is far larger than just the Threshold.” He paused, wondering how quickly they could send her out into the abyss, lost and forsaken, conceited and arrogant and suddenly unwound by the barbarity of everything consuming, swallowing, and devouring from within. The fiend took moments of gallantry up, for a second, for a snippet, to encourage and coax the purpose of his entity here – before being swindled and enticed by Enna again. “There are four empires, the Aurora Basin, the Hidden Falls, the World’s Edge, and the Dragon’s Throat, and then wilderness in between.” Too curious, too inquisitive, too insightful and twisted for his own good, the boy unraveled more intrigues and queries. “What do you seek here?”
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want
Barely had my oh so eloquent words parted from the tongue before trouble doubled before my eyes. Emerging from the woodland backdrop like some beast of the wild, I spared a glance to this newcomer to the game and wanted nothing so much as to sigh in apprehension.
Now, call me biased if you will, but in my experience it is far more difficult to play women for fools than men. Stallions, while certainly powerful and cunning in their own right, were still stallions. In many ways they were predictable, ruled by their bodies in way that made them vulnerable to innocent smiles, casual touch and half-spoken promises. Where the most accomplished warlord might see naught but a pretty face however, his sister would likely see past a mask however well fashioned - guided by intuition perhaps, or more closely attuned to the actions of a fellow female. It was not always the case, but as I'd had bad experience with the stallions in my life so far, I was naturally inclined to be more wary to the vixen as she closed the distance and wrapped her sticky paws all over the young lord.
A glint of amusement flitted across blue eyes as she placed herself between me and Erebos, only for the colt to repeat the motion in turn. Noticing the touch of steel in the crowned girl's eyes I shrugged and turned my head away, removing the threat of deadly retribution from their proximity while simultaneously stepping away from the pair. Two against one were not odds I appreciated, but I was not so gullible as to trust strangers, no matter how affable they appeared. There was still space enough between myself and them to allow reaction in case something changed, and in any case... well, lets just say that waving weapons around was not quite part of the plan anyway.
"One is honored by the generous welcome of the fair mistress" I replied smoothly, inclining my head a fraction towards the mare. "Your Helovia sound to these ears as a land of marvel, well worthy of further exploration. Please, be assured that this is the only intent of this lowly servant, as the world is vast and full of wonder and this one has been blessed to witness only a fragment of its splendor."
I bowed again, slightly lower this time and tried for a reassuring smile as I regarded the horned adversaries from the shadows beneath the forelock. They were not exactly forthcoming with information, but I had not expected them to be either. What little had been said so far was informative never the less however, as was their presence in this backwash. If this indeed was the only way in and out of Helovia then these should be guards, recruiters or both, wardens of the gate so to speak with the purpose of allowing entrance or denying it, perhaps guiding my path towards either of these nations if I passed whatever requirements they went by.
Inwardly, I congratulated myself on the decision to not attack the young stallion. Even should I have emerged victorious from the bout it would have landed me in a sticky situation, maybe even a disastrous one. By opting to engage in conversation I had done myself a service and if nothing unforeseen happened, I might be able to continue my trek without further incident.
"Would it be presumptuous to ask for the guidance of such well informed travelers as yourselves? Surely the masters possess knowledge of where one might find marvels to please the eye, succor to appease the weary traveler and could divulge the secrets of where one would be wise not to tread. Your humble servant is low on means but assures she will repay such generosity in whatever way she can."
Through a graceful gesture of deference by head and hoof I indicated that I was placing myself at their disposal, and produced another smile; a curling of lips that did not quite reach the eyes.
I confess that acting is not my greatest suite. Though forced to learn as a smile and a gesture could win over those who were not impressed by the threat of violence, it always made me itch with impatience whenever I had to employ these tricks. Preferring by far the swift movement and decisive action of raids, battles and duels, long conversations such as these quickly had my teeth on edge, my skin ablaze with the longing for scrapes and bruises - nostrils flaring as if by taking a deep breath I would be able to smell the blood I so longed to spill. It would be easier by far to lash out, cut open the pretty skin of the pretty girl and watch her thrash and writhe as the poison upon my horn worked its gruesome magic, more pleasant by far to greet the smiling young stallion with bared teeth and flying hooves than to keep up the affable facade I had plastered onto myself.
But with no small regret I kept suppressing these impulses, instead passing my gaze over the horned ones, across the surrounding landscape and onto a small, fox-like creature I had only registered briefly before. The presence of it amidst so many larger beings was curious and strangely alarming, adding yet another layer to this encounter that had my thoughts whirling about, even as I appeared to wait attentively for a reply to come my way.
06-04-2016, 06:58 AM (This post was last modified: 06-04-2016, 06:58 AM by Enna.)
something filled up my heart with nothing
Her assurances are met with a half-hearted smile.
As she turns her head away, you fall into acceptance, pretending not to notice as you inch ahead of your prince, trying your best to swallow your grin, all of your childish amusement. She speaks more, and though you want to correct her for the terms of masters and servant you refrain, assuming that perhaps where she had come from—wherever that may be—it is normal to speak in such ways. Instead, you focus on her questions, shifting as you begin to speak.
“The Edge is a forest that looms above the sea, the Throat a desert, the Falls grasslands. I have never been to the Throat or the Falls myself, but I’m sure they have their own merits, beauty, things to be discovered. Erebos and I are both from the Basin, a snowy valley nestled within the North. It is well-protected from its open border, caves which provide us with shelter from the worst of the weather, a lake that never freezes…”
You pause, playing back into the easiness of a smile, into the pride, the love you hold for (some of) your kin (you look to your little lion again, the ends of your smile growing wider, wilder), riddled within your heart. It all but vanishes within moments as the thought of dragging her, the woman who not moments before was threatening Erebos, home, where everything, everyone (except a man crafted of sand that sleeps to the sound of waves, too, too far away) you cherish waits, slips back into your mind. Would she even dare act so brash as to be openly hostile in the presence of wolves? The doubt that finds you then remains well hidden, and instead of laughing, turning her away without so much as a chance, you shrug a shallow little shrug, looking back up to the strange girl.
“You may come see for yourself if you would like.”
ew.
but its 5 am and i wanted to get this up before bed. tadah. ;-; @Erebos
please tag enna in every post
violence permitted barring permanent injury / death
He watched her smile, serpentine and sinuous, an unwinding, unfurling snake elongating across the grass; he listened to her preen and goad, segmenting on the deference, on the display, on the way her horn shifted. Though he was young, he was not stupid – he hadn’t been dulled by the ways of the earth, all naivety and innocence. The little beast had bludgeoned monsters and conquered foes and dreamed of ways in which he could tarnish many, many more – he knew trials and tribulations when he saw them. She was likely another untamed, wild thing, born to be savage and barbaric, nefarious and immoral, laying waste to kingdom and country. The question remained: what to do with her?
Erebos’ answering grins were not half-hearted, continuing to be full of delight, merriment, and the upheaval of devilry, too immersed, coiled, and contorted throughout his blood narrowing his gaze for a few moments in careful perusal, in silent scrutiny and study. While Enna provided information, he wondered, he pondered, he calculated beneath the layers of quiet, charismatic valor. Should they lead the witch back into the icy grove and watch chaos unravel? Would she handle the rime, the glaciers, the convictions, or would it undue her too, like so many before, pushing them into mist and shadow and nothingness instead of inhale one more breath of chilling, unattainable magnitudes? Would she be an Amazon, something they required, a strong soldier in the face of danger, or prattle on her own, respecting nothing and no one, wandering as she pleased, alone in the strife, as desolate as the mountains? He tilted his head for a moment, and Orsino mimicked the same movement, two beings conspiring amidst the brewing noiselessness. The fox would’ve liked to taunt and terrorize, and the stag didn’t know what he craved beyond amusement and diversion.
But he’d still play the game, set up the pretenses, snares, ruses, and traps. He’d watch, he’d wait, he’d witness, how she stepped, stopped, or proceeded. “It all depends on what you want to see and do,” he proffered, leaving their offers for the taking, or allowing her to drift off into unknown denizens, where even predators could become prey.
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want
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