"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.
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
Zero didn't know how he got to the Throat. To be honest, he didn't even know he was at the Throat. The trip back had been a blurred adventure in color and sensations, the majority of which could be handily categorized under "pain". In the boy's current state, home and heaven were nearly indistinguishable, and separated only by a thin lane which he navigates on wobbly legs, his consciousness blinking in and out like fireflies. When he was awake, the boy remembered a jumbled mess images - fur, teeth, and glaring silver eyes - but his exhausted mind refused to assemble them into any sort of picture that made sense.
Which was probably for the best - his refusal to acknowledge that Mesec had done this was one of the few things holding Zero to this world.
The lightning boy stopped at last. Or maybe he'd been stopped for a long time. Maybe he'd never moved at all, and this was just a dream, complete with the smell of salt and the sound of the sea. Hazily, he attempted to look around through glassy sunbeam eyes- but the light was too strong, and the boy winced against it, letting his mind settle back into delirium. It was nice here, close to the water. He used to spend time by the water with Ma.
He dozed.
To all who cared to look, the boy would likely appear dead. Drenched in blood, sand, dirt, and sweat, Zero lay unmoving on the mainland beside the Throat, lungs rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. His wing lay haphazardly against the sand; his exposed side, usually bright with metal, was dull with dried fluid. One shiny right rib peeked out from among electric blue lightning. For all intents and purposes, the boy's body was ready to give up.
His brain, however, was just as imaginative as ever. In his mind Zero was in the water, swimming, flying, laughing as whales surrounded him, and his Ma was there, and his sisters and friends and even Gaucho. It was wonderful and fun, except that suddenly he was coughing, unable to breathe, and everyone disappeared but Gaucho as the boy gasped, his lungs struggling to get air as he thrashed in the sand, and Gaucho was growing bigger, big as a whale, and-
And Zero was drowning as his lung collapsed, the pneumothorax at last doing its job and bursting the boy's organ like a bubble, and somewhere in the back of his mind Zero thought: So this is how it feels when you die.
Had he and Ampere talked much as they returned from the Labyrinth? He didn't know. He hadn't allowed himself much time to think in the moments that stretched long after having found her again. The dun was too worried that if his mind settled on Ampere's continued existence beside him, that the hallucination or illusion (or whatever she was) would snap and she would be gone. And so, he coveted her out of the corner of his eye, living moment to moment on the never-quite-satisfying flashes of blue and black that he could see.
Despite all that was happening in his brain, the slow decomposition of his mind, his body was still fairly strong. His fiery wings carried him easily alongside Ampere as they flew back towards the Throat.
Back home.
It of course didn't occur to him to say anything about the fact that Sohalia was here (at this point he hardly remembered her name, only flashes of white light through crystal, and a rose..) nor the subsequent fact that they had 'broken up' 'for good' this time. He didn't think of Nyx or Nephele (those memories didn't even come with lingering associations at this point. They were mere etchings of a memory in the back waters of his mind). He only thought of those blue and black flashes out of the corners of his eye, the way Ampere's scent wafted towards him on the breeze, and the whisper of her body heat on the wind as she flew next to him.
Despite the strength of his body, without the guile of his mind in control, there was much Gaucho was (obviously) missing. Had he been in his right mind he would have seen Zero as soon as the boy became seeable. Gaucho's gaze normally hugged the curves of the Throat to ensure that there were none trying to swim their way across, none trying to access the bridge, and none waiting on the opposing shore for council. Had his eyes been doing their normal work, he would have seen the crumpled lightning form immediately, but of course, he had not. His brain was a fog focused only on those few flashes of Ampere that he would allow himself to see.
Derp. Didn't want to write too far ahead or else Gaucho would have just flown down and healed him in one post x.x . Also, @Ampere ! Yay.
08-07-2016, 10:58 PM (This post was last modified: 08-07-2016, 11:10 PM by Ampere.)
Ampere & Zèklè
They had settled back amongst each other as easily as breathing came to a babe. Ampere didn't dwell on it, for once. She was simply content to be with him, enjoying him again, letting all the past fights slip away like water through her wings. Being gone from it all had given her a fresh perspective, and now she cherished what she had nearly lost, what she had too often taken for granted.
Maybe, if she cared enough to look in the back spaces of her mind, just maybe she was aware something was off about Gaucho too. That awareness, however dull and dim in the recesses of consciousness, meant this security was fragile.
If Gaucho was her sun, then he would inevitably set upon her world and cast her back into darkness. The world had to move on. She was powerless to stop it, shouldn't stop it anyway. All she could do was revel in the sunlight while she had it; carry the warmth with her into the night. Like a memory the heat would fade from her skin and leave her cold, but she'd hold onto it as long as she could, curled up and patient until all that was golden had gone.
"Sun rises," Kygo insisted, attempting to be hopeful, though admittedly he harbored some doubt in his heart about all of this too.
Ampere smiled faintly at this notion and nodded, "Yes, the sun rises."
Unlike Ampere, Kygo wasn't considering the relationship and its mortality, but rather that of Gaucho himself. A thought that persisted even as they all traveled home together. He didn't let it sully his mind though, because they were going home, and that triumphed above all else in the small parrot's awareness. Elation infected the bond between the blue pegasus and the green conure, and together they were blissfully ignorant of anything else.
At least, so it was until the sands finally broke into sight beneath their airborne viewing pane. Peering down into the desert between her forehooves, Ampere's grin was unavoidable. Her heart swelled with renewed joy, and hurriedly she beat her wings, shifting away from her position alongside Gaucho to dart faster towards her home - not without a passing nip, of course.
Riding on the warm swells, taking in the salty breeze, Ampere spun around the desert thermals and unleashed a shrill whistle of enthusiasm. Kygo echoed her call with his own shriek of delight, and together the two of them tumbled through the sky and dropped further towards the sands.
Rolling out of a spin, Ampere leveled off with a steady pulse of her wings, and set the blue of her gaze across the terrain with an affection normally reserved for Gaucho's body. That was when she noticed him; her son.
So high up still she didn't realize at first that he wasn't dozing in the afternoon heat. So instead of concern for him, her initial response was concern for herself. Like the shield upon her back, so her heart felt armored, terrified of the welcome she might receive. Gaucho's acceptance of her was one thing, but she had many others to face now, her children chief among them. She had a feeling they would be less understanding, and certainly not as easy to coax into forgiveness. Gradually the happiness that had been bristling from her dried until it felt like ash in her mouth. She slowed, her gut flopping to and fro with guilt, though she didn't stop.
Kygo, having no such misgivings, continued on unabashed. He had never really been close with anyone - just trying to bond with Ampere was arduous enough - but his elation after such a long and undesired time away meant he was thrilled to see anything and everything about home, including Ampere's kids. So, quick as an arrow, the bird was upon the beach, squawking his hellos to the grown boy in an effort to rouse him. Except.."not sleep!" Kygo suddenly shouted to Ampere, their connection abruptly cold and swirled with dreadful black and anxious orange. Immediately she snapped out of her own turmoil, on alert to the drastic shift in emotion.
"What?" she asked sharply, uncertain what he meant, but hurrying once more all the same, because either way something was wrong. "PAIN!" Kygo trilled back, unsure of the word to use for hurt, but certain the boy was in pain by the looks of him. Worriedly he danced back and forth on the sands around the young stallion, tilting his head back and forth as he listened to the abnormal breathing.
It felt like an eternity had passed when Ampere finally caught up with Kygo on the beach, her heart pounding so loud she couldn't hear the rest of the world, could barely understand her frantic yell of "ZERO!" as she coasted over her crippled child. Her shadow passed over his broken body in a brief eclipse as her wings pulled back on the air and started to set her down with a flurry of feathers and sand.
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
They say the last sense you lose before you die is hearing. Zero wasn't dead - not quite - but his senses were certainly deteriorating as his body scrambled to compensate, to redirect its remaining energy toward the important things, like keeping his heart beating despite the hole in his lung. His sunbeam eyes, though open, were glassy and unseeing; he could smell nothing but the stench of his own blood. Pain was a constant, an overwhelming tide. Only hearing remained, as though his ears were still trying to hold on, to remind him that there was a world out there worth living for. He could hear the ocean, and birds, and the wind beneath huge black wings, and her voice calling, screaming his name, and somewhere through the fog he managed to find an answer...
"Ma?" the boy croaked, his voice barely a whisper as more air left through the puncture in his lung. It was followed by a horrible, dry and violent cough.
And she was there, a swirling thing of blue and black, the lines of her indistinct but the shape, the feel of her something Zero would recognize all his life. Ampere had appeared, an angel from above, a mother drawn to her child's distress- except it wasn't Ampere, it couldn't be Ampere, because Ampere was gone. Ampere had left him. Ampere had fled into her own world, leaving Zero to hunt her down, seek her out, trying to fill the emptiness left by her absence. Ampere was gone, and she wasn't coming back, and Zero would never see her again. He had accepted this.
So when he saw her, or rather heard her, the boy almost wanted to laugh- because now he understood. He'd found his Ma, in the last place he would ever look: in death, where she was waiting for him to finally cross to the other side. And Zèklè was ready.
Dark sides heaved as the boy breathed, his blood a slow trickle, the faintest smile on his pain-scarred face. "I found ya, Ma," wheezed the lightning boy. Another cough rocked his frame, his body shuddering as his muscles spasm, the rattle in his chest one of dryly beating bones.
Perhaps Gaucho's one saving grace throughout his perpetual state of haze, was that he was a primitive and instinctual creature to begin with. His mind had never been his most prominent or strong faculty, and so as it gradually began to wane away, Gaucho remained able to function perhaps much longer than most would. For instance, as Ampere's body darted away, Gaucho's immediately followed. Others in a similiar instance might have asked questions of why, or what's wrong?. They might have lost themselves in these questions, pushing against the mental barrier that the parasite had caused. But not Gaucho. No, Gaucho merely tipped his brawny body forward to follow the blue towards the blood-stained sands. His only thoughts were ones which his senses brought in, and were largely left unfiltered by his mind.
Gaucho's steely gaze saw the boy on the sands as soon as their trajectory became clear. Now that he was thinking about more than just avoiding looking at Ampere too long, he could smell the scent of dried shit, blood, and the lifelessness that hovers over the dead. If he had been thinking, he might have initially thought that Ampere was merely excited to see her son. But Gaucho wasn't thinking, and as the understanding that the boy was dying or already dead registered in his mind, Gaucho instead focused on what was before him. This was most certainly a blessing, for dwelling on what might become of He and Ampere should their firstborn die, the guilt and corresponding discussion of perhaps whose fault it was that Zero found himself dying alone on the sands, etcetera, etcetera.
Fire flared in a wide arch from Gaucho's wings before his hooves even touched the ground. The dun knew from experience that every second could count, and so he wasted no time in allowing the flurry of healing fire release from his wings. Dark hooves touched on the sands and still the Wildfire forced the magic from his body. Sweat began to line his already dark eyes, and a haze swam before him. But how was that different from the state he had found himself in as of late? If anything, it was easier to throw himself into the brink, depleting himself for his son, given how tired his body already was. Like Zero, in that moment, death didn't seem so bad.
Gravity pulled at Gaucho's knees, bending them. His brindled legs happily complied, yielding balance for more power and duration to the magical blast of fire that still poured from his feathers. The dun couldn't tell whether or not he had stopped breathing, but he must have, for as his knees sharply hit the ground he heard himself distantly gasp in a large breath of air.
Shaking his antlered skull, he peered outwards as the flames finally stopped, revealing the body of the sunbeamed child beneath.
"Zero." Gaucho rumbled, and despite his obviously drained appearance, the word was strong and did not waiver on his lips. Nor was it a question. It sounded more like a command, as if the sultan was demanding that his son answer him, and in doing so, prove that he was alive.
He was muttering something, but she was still deafened by the anxiety that pulsed in her rib cage. "You," some other voice said, a line of green smoke wafting through her consciousness as she scrambled to her son's side, collapsing in the sand beside him. The grit of the desert bit into her knees as she moved roughly against the grains, a product of her haste, though she was mindful not to jostle the body.
By the sun was this just a body instead of her boy!?
No, he muttered something, she reminded herself. He's alive; and it was a hard promise she held between her clenched teeth as her limbs folded in and brought her closer to the rattling exhale that was her child's waning strength. His breath trembled past his nose and his words quivered like brittle autumn leaves as he spoke, forcing her to draw close just to hear.
"You did little lightning," she breathed in response, her gaze blearing with salt. "Now stay with me, and we'll be together," she intoned softly, doing her best to feign certainty when she was anything but. Simultaneously she did her best to slide a wing under his head, an attempt at holding it up to improve his breathing.
And then Gaucho was there, a beacon of light and warmth as he let restoration wash over his son, regardless of its expense. Unable to withhold her grief any further the tears streaked down her cheeks, blazing saline trails that caught the firelight. In her frantic rush she had forgotten to call out for Gaucho, to have him heal this broken mess that was the embodiment of themselves.
The Wildfire came anyway and did just that, even as he was forced to kneel. Blurred as it was Ampere lifted her gaze to the brilliant stallion, holding her stare upon him, fierce with her love.
As soon as Mesec had shifted back into his body, as soon as he had regained control, taking care of the wounded colt had been everything. Lucius was injured but nowhere near the extent of the colt and even his own injuries - his broken jaw being the worst of all - were low priority.
Of course, the forest where they had clashed had been far in the north of Helovia so they had far to go to get somewhere safe. Multiple times, Mesec wondered about whether they should go somewhere else - but the Throat had Gaucho and healers that they knew. It was home and it seemed important to get him there.
Progress was slow, with the majority of his young friend’s limbs injured in their battle, but still they made it there. They made it to the Throat.
With one of Lucius’ wings broken, the zephyr was unable to fly the distance across the water to get to the Throat so they just had to wait. Uselessly, Mesec stood watch - aching with the knowledge that he could do nothing to help his young friend but hope and wait.
When the keen eyes of his companion picked up one flaming and one blue-and-black figure approaching in the sky, Mesec knew it was time to leave. Zero’s parents were coming - Gaucho had healing magic and Ampere was back. All Mesec had done was bring the lightning colt to the brink of death, he had nothing positive to contribute to this family (to this herd) any more.
So he disappeared.
It hurt, but what didn’t right now? All Mesec knew was that they would be safer without him - even when he had control over the warg shifting, he didn’t know that he would never hurt them again. He retreated, using some shrubs for cover, far enough away that he relied on Lucius’ keen eyes to let him know what was happening and that he hoped his black coat wouldn’t be too noticeable against the southern landscape. Only once they were sure that Gaucho and Ampere had landed, that they were caring for their son, they turned and left silently. Each hating the idea of retreating but knowing that enough damage had been caused in this family because of Mesec.
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
As you lie dying upon the ground, the world spinning and growing dimmer around you, you think about your parents, your sisters, and the many half-siblings you have stubbornly refused to get to know. Why didn’t you spend more time with them? Tell them stories, take them on adventures? Why were you so isolated, so determined to stick to your friends instead of your family?
What’s wrong with you?
Is this why Ma left?
Your eyes flutter shut. It doesn’t matter now. Ma’s back- or, more likely, Ma’s dead and you’re hallucinating. Whatever. Who cares. You’re dying. Your failures as a brother and son are mitigated by the fact that you’re drowning in your own bodily fluids, your lung is collapsing, and four of your five limbs are useless. You can smell your own blood and shit as it festers in the sun. You’re moved, but you don’t really notice it – you’re in too much pain with too little consciousness.
But you’re ready. Despite the agony that plagues you, you feel peace. Warm. Maybe this will be a new exciting adventure, one you can share with Ma. Maybe you’ll meet the Sun God. Maybe you’ll hang with whales, and be a ghost and haunt your friends, and be able to fly.
The warmth intensifies. Your breathing grows easier. Your pain seems to dim. In your addled mental state, you assume this to mean you’re dying, and that it really just isn’t as bad as you expected, and that it will all be over soon. It’s a strangely familiar feeling, and despite its firm belief in its imminent demise, your brain struggles to place where you’ve experienced it before. A face begins to take shape in your mind, and you reach for it, frowning, trying to understand as you recognize… you recognize…
Zero, Gaucho commands, and your sunbeam eyes fly open, and the stallion is there, on his knees above you, and you wonder, is he dead, too?
Oh, kid. If only you knew.
“Da?” you croak in response. A new warmth fills you, a happiness. Your family is with you, and you feel loved. The beginning of a smile flutters on your lips.
Then your eyes drift shut again, and you sleep.
----------
The shadows are long when you awake. You still smell, which is interesting – you didn’t think it would stink, being dead. You’re also still on the beach, and sand is pressing against your skin unpleasantly (also unexpected). Frowning, you shift, then freeze as you feel the warmth of a body against yours. Your eyes open and you crane your head, searching for the face that belongs to that oh-so-familiar scent. The pain in your neck is surprisingly limited, but you don’t notice this at the moment. The gashes that litter your body are pink and raised, but closed.
You don’t notice this, either.
All you notice is her, your Ma, the person you love and hate and miss and need most in the world, the one who you’d feared abandoned you but came back when you needed her most. You stare at her with wide, hopeful eyes, and then you hear your voice whisper the only explanation your brain can comprehend.
Gaucho couldn't, she understood, and secretly, she hadn't wanted him to. Much as he deserved this moment to worry, to be relieved, to embrace the family they had made, Ampere also yearned to share the intimacy of it all with only her son, reminiscent of days past. So it worked out well that the father, the Sultan, was needed elsewhere. Concern still edged on her 'brow as she watched the mighty stallion recede, weakened by his life-saving efforts, and something more. Yet she hadn't strength enough to tend to both, and so she stayed with her son, and let her sun burn on his own.
She continued to cradle her child as he slept, his body stitching itself together slowly but surely, assisted from the hot brand of the desert's healing. She whispered to him as he drifted in and out of consciousness, outpouring her heart, confessing her fears, and promising him something better. She did this because, she nearly lost him, and what if she never got a chance to tell him all those things again? The mortality of her boy rattled her to her core and there injected a cold, creeping dread. Part of her, a great part, wanted to desperately clutch him to her breast (and even now her neck was draped carefully across him), but a smaller, wiser part of her suggested she ought to enable him instead of hide him. She had always worried he was less capable than others, but had those feelings then caused this? Had she left him defenseless, simply because she wasn't willing to give him defenses?
Fuck, was Isopia right?
It doesn't matter she told herself, because regardless of wrong or right or what she had done or should have done or didn't do, this is what it was now, and that was the only thing she could change.
She feels him stir, like a rustle of leaves in the autumn breeze, but as his voice murmurs, the fall wind, Ampere pauses. Her gentle talking halted and her head lifted, ears cocked to hear the steady pulse of his still-breathing-body. Her gaze falls across him like the sea, all encompassing and wet as tears, joyful in nature despite their sad source, spring to the edges of her eyes. "No baby," she whispers to him, a broad smile shaking onto her lips. "Almost, but not now, not now," she said the rest into the hair of his neck as she dropped her head against him in relief, sighing heavily against the brown hide.
"Gaucho saved you," she went on, steadily growing more composed. "We're home in the Throat. You're safe."
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
No, baby.
Well, okay then.
If Ma says you aren't dying then it must be true - after all, Ma is infallible, her wisdom unquestionable, her devotion to you absolute. For a minute you are a colt, small and shivering, a gangly thing in your mother's embrace, new to the world and all of its terrors. Like a lost spelunker you cling to this light, placing your bets upon that little spark of sun way up in the sky. Now that you aren't dying you settle back into the comfort of life, happy to saturate yourself in the faith that you are loved, you are safe. Your mother is here for you.
Except, you remember, as you blink yourself more and more awake, the grogginess of near death slowly leaving your mind: Except, she's not.
Because wasn't she gone? Didn't she leave you? Isn't that what led to all of this, what brought you here? Yes, you're remembering now. You remember looking and not finding, remember traveling North. You remember seeking her out in the woods, and not finding her, because instead you found... you found Mesec, and then... and then...
And then...
"I... don't..."
Your face has contorted itself into a concentrated frown as you struggle to remember. There is the vaguest impression of Mesec, and then something else takes his faceplace. Working overtime, firing overdrive, your brain works hard to pull something concrete out of the sea of pain. Shadows, and a voice, and a broken jaw. Something terrible lurks in the dark. You do not feel your heart pick up, do not feel the sweat that pinpricks upon your brow. You're trying too hard, looking too hard, and you're there, and you're scared, and it's horrible, and-
Come back to us, little lightning. Leave the monsters in the dark.
You look back up at your dam, eyes still wide and not understanding. In this moment you are an infant, not a stallion, a colt regressed to his mother's embrace; you are confused, and small, and hopeful, and unsure. Where is Gaucho? How are you alive? How did you get here? How did she get here?
Abruptly, you pull away from your mother, rising shakily to uncertain hooves. Nothing makes sense in your naturally curious mind. You're reeling, unsteady; you glare at her, but there's more bewilderment and pain (so much pain!) in your eyes than anger. A minute passes; you have no idea what to say; so you ask the only question you really have, the question you've had for months, at the forefront and the back and the edges of your mind- the one that eats away at you, that you've tried to answer a million times but every time you just can't.
"Ma... why'd you leave us? We needed you. I needed you."
And then, because such is the natural progression of things, because the tears in your eyes are starting to sting, because your voice is cracking and your body is shaking with exhaustion and you're too busy keeping it from falling down to keep yourself from falling apart, you ask the one that always follows-
"Was it... was it my fault?"
You are aware of everything - the pink scars on your body, the knitting bones in your leg, your height, your childishness, your stupidity. Most of all you are aware of the ever-present absence on your left shoulder, and the way the metal shines, like it's mocking you by drawing attention to your defect, to the thing that may make you impossible to love.
Because who really loves a cripple? Who's proud to have one as their son? Nobody. We don't love cripples- we pity them, and the parents who are burdened to bear them like load-stones around their necks.
(You are being melodramatic, but in this instance we'll allow it. You did, after all, just nearly die)
She can see the creases in his 'brow, the nervous sweat collecting to darken his bay hide. She croons gently, an encouragement for him to settle, and she starts the gentle lullaby tune she used to sing when they'd sleep together at night. Except, he wasn't a child any more, even if he'd always be her child. She was reminded of this as he retreated from her embrace, his absence impossibly cold against her skin, nearly causing a shiver.
He did more than leave her side in that instance. He was making a statement, taking a stance; reminding her of things she'd rather forget. Can't we go back to how it was? No.
While she was away he had grown.
He had been aging since the moment he hatched, but he'd always retained this child-like vigor, this unfallable curiosity and delight in the world, and he's always been loyal to her even if she'd fucked up (gods how she's good at fucking up). He'd loved her, and she'd loved him. He'd shown her how to love, really, and for that she'd always be indebted to him.
For that, she'd never stop loving him.
She stays on the ground as he stands, however shaky, There's a moment when he seems likely to topple and Ampere flinches, her body simultaneously deciding to rise to help him and choosing to remain, knowing better after all. Still, she can't hide the concern that settles on her features, can't disguise the pain that darkens the vibrancy of her gaze as she watches her child hurt both physically and otherwise. Then of course he asks what she expected, and in response she diverts her gaze, unable to bear witness to the wounds she herself has inflicted on her boy. The bloody ravaging of someone else is hard enough, but she just couldn't stand the marks she made.
She hears the way his voice waivers, can practically smell the tears as they form, but she just closes her eyes, as if she would reopen them and find the world changed. No, find it better.
Maybe she'd find herself better?
"Was it my fault?"
Horror drives like ice into her heart and in an instant her head has whipped back around and she's risen to her feet. Hastily she moved towards him, uncaring if he'd reject her, she'd push through it and hug him until her felt her love; unmindful of his poor balance, she'd catch him if he fell. Her wings slid from her sides to hold him, if he'd let her, while her neck tried to drag overtop his and pull him into her chest. Her own tears had pricked at the edges of her eyes and gently spilled down, her breaths shaky, but her voice surprisingly firm.
"Don't you ever think that," the words came out rushed, and fierce, reminiscent of her anger but lacking the noise. "I love you Zèklè, more than anything!" She was desperate for him to know this, and so she forced the words out, as if it might push them into his mind and his heart that much better.
She pulls back faintly, so that she might look at him, but her wings stay outreached, trying to maintain contact. "I shouldn't have left, I;m sorry," she murmurs, a mournful sigh trailing from her nose. "It was selfish of me..." as I often am, "I-I," she struggled to explain. How could she tell him something she barely understood herself? Would the reason really even alleviate all his pain, because was there really any answer good enough for what she'd done? She shook her head, teeth clenched with self-frustration. She'd live for this mistake all her life, because her children would always bear it, and that scar would change them.
"I didn't know what else to do, so I ran, because I was scared. Once I stopped running I was a long ways away, and then I was scared to come back." Partially for this exact reason, which made it that much harder to face.
"I'm here now though... I'm here."
Begging, love me still, please.
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