"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.
09-15-2016, 01:11 PM (This post was last modified: 09-19-2016, 12:24 PM by Dragomir.)
The birds, they got help from below
From dirty paws and the creatures of snow
“How perfect it all has been,” were the last words his mother had said to the world.
Dragomir was still not sure what to think of it. Should he be sad that his mother was gone? Part of him demanded his right to be, but another replayed her frail voice to him whenever the sorrow welled. How could he be sad for a woman who had lived a life so plentiful and good that she had died with a smile on her lips, her family close by? If he were to die in such a fashion, he thinks to himself, he would be a fortunate man.
His life, however, had thus far been so flawed with imperfections that he was unlikely to justify it in such a fashion when the curtain came down. He had never found a place where he felt he had belonged, the only times he had fleetingly managed to achieve that dream vanishing no sooner than he had realized he’d found them. His secondary dreams of love and family had been dashed twice; first against the distant shore below the World’s Edge, and, while he was loathe to even admit there had been love at all (what would my father say? And our God?), the second had likely been struck from the record no sooner than he had vanished into the night all those months ago.
The smell of the flowers they had picked together still lingered in his pouches, though. He occasionally found the dried, fragile remnants of them when he cast off the harness to rifle through the odd tidbits he’d picked up along his travels, and hurriedly shoved inside. Each time the paper thin petals brushed passed his nose with their bittersweet aroma, he felt a welling of emotion rise within him that was both delightful, and sad. Even worse was when the glass entwined in his tail tinkled its once comforting song, now singing, instead of psalms of friendship and togetherness over distance, sonnets of looking for someone who was not there, and of how he’d abandoned her.
It was not that he did not have a good reason, he thinks, hesitating outside the perimeter of the threshold of Helovia for a moment, staring up at their tall, orange crowns, as if they would tell him what to do. Still, it did not take away the guilt for not having insisted that they wait until morning, or having not really thought of her at all until it was too late. After then, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her, really, even when he hadn’t wanted to think about anything at all.
The sigh that falls from his lungs after a deep, bolstering breath is long, and speaks volumes of how much he both dreads and longs to be close to those within these borders again. Shifting his weight so that the leather pouches strapped to his large body shift into a more favorable position, the tobiano sets hoof back within the realms of Helovia, and makes his way to no where in particular.
The very last thing that Alysanne expected was to go to the Threshold and find a familiar face. She had started the trip here in the middle of the night a few days ago, after pacing around the Edge and only getting snippets of sleep when she did try. She was still exhausted but felt rested enough that talking a very long walk seemed like a good idea.
Of course, it was only after she recognized that she was close to the Threshold that she had been learning to fly and she could have just flown here. Being a pegasus that actually made use of the wings she was given did not quite come naturally to her just yet. Hopefully, with a little bit more time and practice, it would start to be more natural for her. Otherwise, what was the point in learning?
Hemlock swooped ahead of her, weaving through the trees when they arrived at the Threshold - trying to catch at a few of the leaves that were falling with his hooves. Every one that he caught he’d bring back to decorate Aly’s wings with, so that the pale feathers were brightened with splashes of reds and orange. After the intensity of Tallsun this year, it was pleasant to feel the cool Orangemoon breeze stir against her skin.
The two continued this pattern until movement among the trees caught their eye - and Alysanne was surprised to realize that she recognized the bay tobiano. She hurried to move around a few of the trees that separated them - green eyes trying to determine whether they were seeing false things or not. It had been quite some time since she had seen the former glazier, but that hardly stopped her from being delighted at seeing a face she knew from the past. Far enough, even, into the past that she had still been a bright-eyed, joy-filled Moon Doctor at their last meeting.
Well, she might have changed a bit since then but not enough that she was going to keep her mouth shut and not say hello. “Dragomir? Is that you?” A cautious but bright smile was tugging on the corners of her mouth as she spoke and her green eyes were bright with hope. They were little more than acquaintances but Alysanne wasn’t in the habit of forgetting faces - even if he might not recognize her.
If you could only understand—through my heart and through my veins
Perhaps there’s something wrong with her, that she never thinks of her mother or the father she never knew. She doesn’t mourn them (doesn’t, truthfully, know what’s become of them). She doesn’t mourn her sister, though their souls may not walk on this earth as hers does anymore. No, she mourns only for herself and the things she has lost. Her powers, and therefore, herself. There’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t dwell on those thoughts. There’s not a day that goes by where she finally finds herself glad to have stumbled on Helovia. No, she still resents the land that stripped her of her magic. Still longs for her nomadic life, and when she’s not at the sea, longs for the crash of the waves as well.
Syrena hasn’t made friends here, hasn’t created a family here, feels no ties to the other horses that call the Hidden Falls their home. Except Aquila, and of course, that has more to do with the fact the other mare is a sea-horse (quite literally), and loves the sea as Syrena does. That said, somehow, she has grown fond of the Falls itself. It was a constant, reassuring presence in her life, which was otherwise devoid of much of anything. The land was beautiful though, and the water plentiful. She could hide away in the pools of the Falls for days at a time, left to her own devices.
That said, she often throws herself into working instead. It keeps her mind occupied, and in some small slightly less bitter corner of her mind, she also feels like she owes it to the place she calls home. Not to its leaders (she has no feelings toward them one way or another, really) or its God necessarily, but simply to make the place great. It deserved that much. And perhaps, in the process, she could change her own nothing life into something. Something that might be just a sliver of the life she was destined to live before stumbling into the Threshold.
So, like she often does, she makes her way to the Threshold. The trek is endlessly more pleasant with Orangemoon here, if nothing else. She was almost enjoying the cold. Not that she was looking forward to the part where it would turn frigid soon, and she’d freeze instead of roast. But whatever, she was going to not think about that. She moves through the trees with an ease she probably shouldn’t have, given her size and build. But she spends a good bit of time here, and navigating is getting rather easy.
A female voice catches her voice first. It sounds vaguely like a reunion of sorts (at the very least, the mare obviously knows this Dragomir). That doesn’t stop her though. She doesn’t actually consider that maybe they want some time to catch up. Even if she did consider that fact, she wouldn’t care. They are close, and she’s there, and those two things are enough. Syrena changes course, making her way toward the sound of the voice until a mare and stallion come into view.
The mare is black and white and winged – a pretty thing, though lacking in many of the decorations common to Helovia, and Syrena at least doesn’t find herself jealous of the mare. The stallion as well seems rather unremarkable, and she finds she likes it this way. She might be remarkable (what, with the seal-gray skin, wet shine to her coat, scales and fins), but she doesn’t feel remarkable. And she hates being reminded of everything she’s lost by all the citizens of Helovia and their many wonderful colors and collections of things. She was far more than simply things before, but still, at least they had things. She didn’t even have that anymore. “Syrena, from the Hidden Falls,” she offers, voice flat as always as she comes to a stop by the group. And then she falls silent, having nothing else to add for the moment. It seems unlikey he’s knew here, if this chick recognizes him. And she might as well at least acknowledge that they may want to say hello before being pestered with recruiting spiels.
09-22-2016, 10:22 AM (This post was last modified: 09-22-2016, 10:25 AM by Dragomir.)
The birds, they got help from below
From dirty paws and the creatures of snow
‘Dragomir? Is that you?’
The tall paint turns to find a familiar face, and a welcome smile. His own face lights up at the chance to see Alysanne again, his former unease at the sight of her wings all but absent as he cheerfully approaches her, head high and ears lifted. It had been, well, years since he had seen the gardener last, but she was just as he remembered his former herd mate, albeit a bit older. Aloof, as usual, he doesn’t offer her his muzzle, or enclose her in an embrace, as was more standard for the reunion of old friends, but there is a friendliness to his entire demeanor that is reserved only for those he trusts and cares for.
Alysanne! cheerfully booms the heavy bass of his voice, his steps closing the small space still still standing between them. Hemlock, a ghost overhead, who’d been a mere hatchling the last Dragomir had seen him, is given a friendly grin of greeting. Turning his eyes back to his friend, the less than chatty stallion does his part to continue the conversation with his limited skills. Having help mill the rows with the use of the glass plow Aaron had made, and several of the glass panels of the greenhouse, his first instinct is to ask after bicolor mare’s primary job – or, at least, what had been her job the last he’d seen her. For all he knew, she was a warrior now… but somehow, he doubted that. She’d always been shy, shy like he was, and gentle in ways he wasn’t. It made his heart feel light and warm to see that she, too, had grown from who she’d been when they’d first come to the realms of Helovia. How is the garden?
As is common place in Helovia, he does not get to talk long with his old friend before another arrives. He attempts to greet her with as cheerful of a smile as he gave Alysanne, but his nerves pick up and quell the easy joy that had flooded him before. The woman, Syrena, is also rather peculiar, with fins adorning her limbs, as dark as the deep ocean, and tinted with bright azures and indigos. Despite having met others of equine blood covered in scales, rather than a natural coat, the son of Adalwulf finds it no less disturbing than he had any time before.
It’s evident in the sudden tension about his eyes and mouth, though he does he best to remain cordial and kind, as he always does. Wondering if she’d already heard his name as well as that of his pretty friend, he decides to offer it again; he’s rather interested, however, in the mention of the Hidden Falls. The last time he’d come to Helovia, Resplendence had told him that many of the former members of Mirage’s people now lived there, and he’d also heard that the God of the Earth was often seen among the rolling hills and rivers. Of the four divines in Helovia, the Earth was the closest to the God his family followed: Nieque, father of the horses. A father that, as far as Dragomir knew, was dead as the land he’d ruled over.
Dragomir, begins the stallion, nodding in what he assumes to be a welcoming way (he’s not sure). Attempting to look between the two ladies, now feeling incredibly uncomfortable in the realization he was the focal point of their attention (especially the stranger, Syrena), he attempts to continue onward with the conversation. Anymore magical lands pop up out of no where while I was away?
The incredibly short, nervous laugh that follows is as horribly awkward as he feels.
[ OOC: PFFTPFTT of course I don't mind :D Friendship forever ~~ ]
Although Alysanne would not have held it against him if Dragomir had not recognized her on sight, she was relievd to see that he did. Their few, scattered meetings throughout their collective stay at the Edge had been little more than helping out with various projects at the same time but, as far as she was concerned, he had still been a herd member back in a time when she had considered everyone in the Edge a friend.
Times had changed, sure, but she was happy to brush those thoughts out of her mind at the cheerful boom of Dragomir’s voice. She laughed with delight at his question about the garden, her mind breezing over how it had been a sore point for her lately. She didn’t want to think about anything dark, anything sad, right now. “Still growing strong! Luckily I’ve had a lot of help taking care of it.” It was vastly by the efforts of the other healers in the Edge that the garden had come back from disarray after she had neglected it.
They were joined in a moment by a dark grey mare Alysanne did not recognize but who she greeted with a warm smile. It was infinitely easier to be relaxed and lighthearted around this stranger and acquaintance. “I’m Alysanne, of the Edge.” She dipped her head in greeting to Syrena before her attention was grabbed once more by the bay stallion and his question about magical lands. A light laugh escaped her, hers coming easily and bright and she hoped it might sooth away the awkwardness in his. “No, no, you’re lucky - Helovia has been the same size for a while now.” Now that she thought about it, had anything happened in Helovia since the last time she had seen him around? For a while there, it had been wraiths chased by murders chased by invasions chased by battles with gods! Alysanne still bore the scars on her wings from one the fight in the Riptide Isles, though the feathers had finally grown in enough to hide the worst of it. “Actually, I can’t think of anything large that’s shaken the place up lately, we must be due for something soon.” Although she said it with a wink, attempting to be lighthearted, it did send a worrisome thought through her. What was next? Despite the personal turmoil she had been going through, things across Helovia had been uncharacteristically peaceful lately.
Although her attention drifted between both those she was in the company of, her attention of course drifted back to Dragomir. It wasn’t that she wanted to ignore the lady from the Falls - if anything it reminded her that this was the Threshold and perhaps this Syrena was going to attempt to recruit Dragomir.
The thought of another friend wasted on that herdland made her stomach flip uncomfortably. Even with Brisa (as she thought) on the throne, she still wasn’t sure whether it was the abhorrent Archibald or the kalamitous Kaj that ruled with her and both were dreadful options.
So she asked him a question that wasn’t about his plans now that he was back in Helovia, maintaining that sunny smile for her two new friends. “Have you been well?”
If you could only understand—through my heart and through my veins
She’s starting to feel like she’s interrupted something. Which, really, the fact that she even has a clue is a step in the right direction. Not that she ducks out of the conversation, because they are both friendly and polite, offering their names (even if the stallion seems rather tense with her sudden presence – he should be, she doesn’t blame him). No, Syrena. He should not be. What the hell are you going to even do? Nothing. It’s so strange, how easily she forgets sometimes. How the thoughts flick in her head like she was still actually a siren, with the powers the come with it. But now she’s nothing of the sort. She’s a storyteller. Which in this world is something, but in her world still doesn’t compare.
She’s also a storyteller with no stories, so currently, she just sucks at her job. And apparently some crafting magic, not that she knows what to do with that either. The conversation moves on to Helovia and its size and she should seriously know what exactly they are all talking about. That was her job now. But of course, she only has a vague recollection of all this. Yes, lands showsedup and all sorts of weird horses, but she’d been too busy mourning her own life to actually care. Dumb choice, but of course, hindsight is everything.
As it turns out, listening is hard. She’s vaguely tempted to tune out, because this conversation is taking an awful long time. She really doesn’t want to stand here and make small talk (hell, she doesn’t really know what small talk is…). She keeps her ears pricked in their direction, hoping that’s enough to make her look interested. She’s not sure how anyone keeps smiling so long as Alysanne.
“Oh, don’t say that,” she says when Alysanne mentions they must be due for something soon. No thanks. She’s got enough on her plate just trying to function in society. No more wars or random lands or creatures even weirder than her. Just no. She’s already stuck in this hell hole – at the very least, it could stop getting worse. Her deadpan voice as she says it makes her sounds rather serious, though because there’s still no emotion in it, it’s hard to be certain just exactly how she feels. Not that she tries to fake a wink or something, like Alysanna does. Syrena would never pull that off, let alone do so convincingly.
Alysanne turns it back to small talk, and Syrena can barely contain a sigh, though she does, and her emotionless face probably doesn’t give her away. “Should I give you two some time, or something? I can come back, if you have any interest in learning about the Falls.” If she were anyone else, that whole comment might sound like she was insinuating something, or like she might be just being straight up rude. Instead though, it’s delivered in a flat (though still somehow pretty) voice, and sounds vaguely like she’s actually offering to just leave and come back if he wants. Because she’s clearly in the middle of something with nothing to say, and it was just getting awkward.
"words"
darya87 | larfsalot on deviantart
@Dragomir
Sorry, she's so weird....
Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Reli
It made Dragomir quite happy to know that the gardens were doing well, mostly because it made one less thing in his life that had gone away, or changed completely. That he’d had a hand in both tilling the rows and crafting the glass building that encased them, and that they’d become something - these were pleasant thoughts, which eased the constant worry in the bay’s chest that, no matter how hard he tried, his efforts were meaningless.
Not to say that the world had gone out of his way to teach him this notion; it was simply that Dragomir was a morose creature, what some might call borderline nihilistic. Perhaps it was a concept he had learned listening to his parents tell stories of a kingdom that was now only ash, or, perhaps, it was that his soul had been tempered in a shadowy place before being fitted into his body; no matter the cause, Dragomir, even as a child, had never believed anything was permanent. He had, in part, always believed that all things would, at some point, come to their inevitable end, though he also tried to not let that truth keep him from growing attached in the first place.
It was the way of things. Nothing was forever, after all, and one had to feel a bit of sorrow from time to time to really know when they were truly happy.
Syrena’s arrival ends the discussion of the past as it pertained to the present, however, and soon Dragomir is carried out of the dingy hallways of memory, and back to the sunlit, autumn forest. The scaled woman’s remark to Alysanne’s joke is more humorous to the tri-colored stallion’s sensible nature, and he chuckles, mostly because he sort of sympathizes. He, too, hopes that things stay calm at least long enough for him to get reacquainted with Helovia.
He’s about to answer his old friend’s question as to how he’d been when Syrena’s disgruntled remark draws his crystal blue eyes towards her. What she asks makes his brows arc curiously, not sure what, exactly, had transpired to make her feel as if she was intruding. Surely, she knew that she, too, was involved in this conversation? Besides, if she was no good at conversing, as Dragomir himself was not, why had she approached them? He certainly avoided this forest of greetings at all costs, knowing all too well that it required a certain level of social eloquence that he, quite simply, didn’t have.
The sudden thought that she maybe thought he and Alysanne were, well, more than friends makes his skin flush, and a disconcerted frown come to life on his face. Not that Alysanne wasn’t pretty, but he just hadn’t ever thought of her like that, and, besides, he hadn’t the slightest clue what he’d done that might have insinuated that there was more than platonic friendship between them. Suddenly feeling quite worried that he’d been less than gentlemanly or offensive in some way, all while wondering if, maybe, she’s the rude one here, not him, he hesitantly answers the siren’s inquiry as best as he can manage.
Uh, is his eloquent response, well, I, erm… While he certainly wouldn’t mind more information about the Falls, he was also entirely unsure how it fit into what they’d been talking about before, and it left him, as many things often did, at a loss for words.
He’d been to the Hidden Falls, once, as part of an emissary party gathered by the then Queen Kahlua, and otherwise knew very little. It had been an endeavor to mend whatever rifts had been caused by a trouble making mare, a mare that the painted stallion couldn’t remember the name of. He and the rest of the party had been greeted at the gates by the then ruling Midas, who was dead now, and a woman who’s name, like the trouble maker that had brought the group there, eluded him. The hierarchies of the herds had changed so much during his time in Helovia that he simply assumed she no longer ruled it, either, so he was much less flustered (for once) by not recalling names, than he was by Syrena’s unexpected comments.
I guess? is his quavering, final remark.
[ OOC: Lirl he is way to awkward for Syrena's bluntness ]
At Syrena’s admonishment of her joke, Alysanne ducked her head in apology. While she had meant it in light-hearted jest, she had to admit that the idea of something else happening was not one that she looked forward to at all.
And her light-hearted conversation attempts were further stalled by the grey mare’s question about whether she should leave them alone. What, just because Alysanne wanted to see how an old friend was doing? How terrible of her to be such an inconvenience! A single black ear flicked back in annoyance but she remained calm otherwise and willed herself to maintain her smile.
As much as she would like Syrena to leave so that Alysanne could do everything she could catch up with her friend and to discourage Dragomir from joining the Falls, that wasn’t very kind of her. She bore no ill-will to the strange grey mare, after all, just a few of the stallions that called the herd home. After they had ripped it from the grasp of peaceful citizens who had lived there… truthfully, Alysanne didn’t know much about the state of that kingdom at all. She had heard Archibald was still king and that a new queen had been named to replace Brisa, but that was it.
Was it still the same herd that she hated?
Perhaps her devotion to her herd blinded her from looking objectively at the others. Soothing away her annoyance, she found a warm smile once more. Although Dragomir had stumbled through a response, Alysanne thought it might be more awkward if Syrena were to leave and then come back. “No, I’m sorry Syrena - I’m all wrapped up in seeing an old friend but of course you’re here doing a job. Dragomir and I will hopefully have time to catch up soon.” Alysanne cast a warm smile over to the painted stallion. Now that he was back, there was every chance that they could meet up again. She planned on it, whatever the outcome of this little meeting. “You would, of course, be most welcome to come back to the Edge as well.”
If you could only understand—through my heart and through my veins
Not just like, slight interruption, everyone can go back to what they were doing now ruin the party. No, she manages to be the girl that screams “COPS” and ends it completely. Of course she is. She wouldn’t stand in a throng of drunken dancing people bumping into her and know of any other option. Likewise, she can’t stand in the Threshold and manage small talk. They are all here for a reason – why waste time?
She does not actually mean anything by it. She doesn’t mean to be disgruntled (though any sensible creature would assume she does), or rude, or anything else (nor does she necessarily mean not to be those things, she simply never thinks about it like that). No, she comes here because her home needs her too. Because she now wears a title that, stupid her, is punishable by the Earth God himself if she fails. To her tiny bit of credit, she came before that title too – but extra motivation now.
Their responses warrant a sorry from her, though she doesn’t give it. She might, if the thought actually crossed her mind, but there really is some truth to how much upbringing matters and all. She was raised to eat souls, not make small talk. Though small talk often was the first step to that, and she really should try harder. Dragomir is perhaps rather taken aback and set off guard (as he should be), though Alysanne’s response is pleasant and diplomatic. Syrena nods slightly, trying to look sheepish (not that she succeeds) and trying to figure out something pleasant or polite to say. She can’t.
What she really needs is a little voice in her head that’s nice, and can just say things for her. Hell, she could use a talking parrot that actually just said those nice things aloud for her. She’s pretty sure they don’t have those in Helovia though.
The concept of catching up with someone, or having friends, is such a strange one to Syrena that she literally cannot find a way to empathize. At all. So instead of bumbling through some half-assed, awkward transition, she just gets to the point. It’s what she’s good at, anyway. “The Falls is, likely, different than what you know. We are now led by The Mountain that Knows,” (seriously, she still doesn’t know why someone prefers to be called a mountain than a name, but whatever) and Ranjiri,” she says, rather proud of herself for bothering to remember that name. But it seemed necessary to remember her Czarina’s names.
“It looks the same, but there are many new faces, and a renewed desire to build the Falls. We are looking for those that wish to aid in that. It is perhaps not a place if you merely want a place to lay your head.” Perhaps the Edge was better for that – less in need of members, so perhaps more tolerant of those that didn’t want to work. Not that she actually has a clue. Maybe Isopia and Ranjiri didn’t care either – she has no idea. She knows what it used to be, and operates under that still. Because really, they didn’t need dead weight. The Falls needed life. Because probably if the Earth God has to come back one more time, he’s just going to burn them all for failing.
les words "chat chat" @Dragomir - I'm so sorry, I don't know how to make her not awkward or even very nice...
Thankfully, Alysanne is better at talking than he is.
He looks over at his once quiet friend with surprise, and a smile in recognition of her offering, he remembers her as being far more introverted than this. It was amazing how time and responsibility could shape a person, of course, which Dragomir knew from his own time working with the Moon’s glass. The boy who had grown up alone, and who was afraid to speak out in groups, had become a man who was capable of not only handling a conversation now, but even giving lessons – so long as he knew those who arrived well enough to feel secure.
There had even been a time in his life when, rather than just feeling uneasy in the strange company of the former siren and her scaled body, he’d have felt a deep disgust, taught to him by a father who still followed the rigid laws of his homeland, Isilme. While his mother hadn’t truly approved of being violent towards the other species, she certainly had never spoke up against what Adalwulf had to say about Nieque’s teachings. Requiem had only spoken of the God with reverence, worshiping, rather than his ancient system of segregation and blood-purity, his ability to shape entire mountains with the slightest flexing of his will.
He had tried to take the best of both of their worlds. From the Steadfast, he had learned the value of loyalty, and honor. He had garnered the knowledge of what it was to be strong, and true to one’s path; he had learned that, sometimes, such a man can be gentle, especially while tending to those he loves. His mother had taught him of magic, and the beauty of a world in which it existed. She had taught him to drink deeply of life, and to think, always to think, before he spoke.
She had also taught him to listen when others were talking, though she herself had never mastered that art, either.
“…renewed desire to build the Falls…” Syrena is saying, and he mentally curses himself for zoning out as often as he does. Picking up from what he does hear and vaguely can recall from around his memories of home, the grief stricken and weary stallion tries his best to remain amiable, despite his confusion.
He’d already helped the World’s Edge grow stronger, having already heard that the greenhouse he had built with Aaron was serving the herd well. He understands, also, from what Syrena says, that the Hidden Falls is likely not as well off as the Moon’s people, and something nags at him that he should go with the scaled woman. Still, he’s tired, the realization sudden and heavy, and he probably shouldn’t make any serious decisions (like allegiances) with his head so muddled.
I will definitely come to see you, Alysanne, he says, smiling at his friend, it would be nice to see the garden again.
Turning, next, to Syrena, he smiles.
I will likely, also, see you at the Hidden Falls, he explains, glancing towards Alysanne, and he hoping she understands, but I will need time to think about it. I have other, friends, that I need to find first.
He, of course, means Ranjiri (who is at the Falls, if he had enough sense to listen to what he’s told), though he’s not sure what to call her, considering it feels different to think of her than it does the others he calls friends.
[ OOC: Due to timeline struggles I have had him intentionally zone out who is ruling the Falls. xD He is (hopefully, if the thread ahead of this one goes as I want it) coming to live there though! ]
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: alysanne_by_schwartze-d89se15.png]](http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2014/348/8/6/alysanne_by_schwartze-d89se15.png)