the Rift


[OPEN] for I never saw true beauty 'till this night [Festival Storytelling]

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#1

Lena the Songbird


They flickered and joined beneath the wondrous lights and the crystalline stars, between the caverns and pines, resplendent and incandescent, beckoned by the miraculous glow, the opulent waves of bright, brilliant hues in startling, northern beauty. She might have watched them for many seasons, but they still shown and sparkled with such awe-inspiring qualities and heavenliness that her heart fluttered and flittered at their sight – and she was even more affected by their nature at the frigid hour. Twilight hastened with autumn vestiges, pouring and pooling into frosted dew and thickening ice, falling leaves, chilling winds billowing from the mountaintops, but she wouldn’t have traded it away, not for the heat of Tallsun, not for the shackles of Frostfall. The Orangemoon conditions meant their celebrations, their festival, was imminent, and she hoped their efforts, their travels, and their preparations, had not been in vain. Would they flock to the peaks, wishing to uncover the secrets of their world? Or would they shy away, too close, too alarmed, too frightened, by the ways of the past? Would history play and plague too far, and they’d lose their souls to prejudice and rumors? The Songbird reached down, deep into her chest, into her essence, into her fairy ambience, and prayed for crowds of earnest strangers and familiar friends, for the whole world to be enlightened, ignited, inspired, by the collection of Basin pride and prowess; to let themselves decide on what the wintry world was like, how it’d grown, how it’d changed.
 
Lena wore her best smile as they descended by the lake’s edge, assuaged and soothed by the restless stroke of unfrozen waters, sturdy and valiant, strong and determined on the sandy embankment. After making several small, warm fires nestled and coiling from kindling, Imogen curled along her forelegs, brushing white tails and promises, prospering those righteous reveries Lena stoked within her mind (they’ll come, she thought, they’ll come and see how wonderful we really are). The beatific press of her force eased and quieted the nervous, apprehensive juncture simmering along her veins, and her grin took flight, resounding on the echoes of her harmonious voice, meant to gather, meant to hasten, those who tread on unfamiliar ground. “Come here for storytelling!” She announced, beckoning, a guide, a honeyed star beneath the shades of more intense lights, but not allowing herself to be dimmed, to be forgotten, to be shuffled back into the legions of shadows and darkness. The summits were more than just legends, glistening on tomes of war and disaster, triumph and ruin, loss, failure, and tenacity; the world would know, would understand, would come to comprehend the foundations of this frozen earth, with its everlasting raptures, with its unfounded strength. She’d help them see, she’d help them grasp, decipher, and fathom the fortitude and might of their incredible empire. Again she chimed, full of radiance, full of hope, full of perseverance, all the virtues of the Basin pressed within her frame, extending her wishes and boldness into the heart of so many woven threads. “What would you like to hear?”

[Festival Storytelling! Post order is a lie! Come in and and make yourself comfortable! <3]

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Adria Posts: 36
Absent Abyss atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 :: 3 HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Hawk
#2

Ava




This hadn’t exactly been her greatest idea she decided. Feathers fluffed and wrapped around her. Their normal look of sleek nearness forgotten with each chilling blast. Oh but she was here for a party! The idea made her forget the harsher conditions. The child had heard whispers of such a celebration somewhere in the north. And though the autumn wind had warned her against going north, how could she resist the idea of games, stories, and the strangest thing….northern lights? Yet, ever cornered by her old life of never needing to ask for company, she had travelled here rather alone. She’d hope to catch someone leaving from the Falls, but had only seen a few shapes travelling up the mountains, and so had followed them. That’s how she ended up here, a frozen popsicle with wings.

Oh but her heart was alive with wonder and excitement, and for a while that was enough. After all who could think about themselves being cold when there was so much to see. As the dove slowly walked across the newly formed ice and rocks in the Arch her head was ever looking up in wonderment, but it shifted to pure delightful shock when she saw the view at the other side. Mountains rose to heights she had never seen, and at the center a broad inky lake reflected the sky, literally dancing with colors. It had taken the poor child a moment to comprehend such a sight, as it was ever so foreign, but ever so stunning.

By the time she’d reached the gathering by the lake the girl had become quite chilled. Even her fluffed feathers could not keep the heat in as her own magic betrayed her and blew the frigid air around her. So you can imagine the poor girl’s delight to see the fires, though small, licking alive into the night. It was around them she was standing, when a small mare called forth to the gathering. Stories! Now that she very much wanted to hear. You may think it only for children, but the pearl was of youthful heart, and the idea of learning at last about this new land was too enticing. Warmer at last she follows the chocolate mare, letting herself be lead to the water’s edge, where her smile and sea blue eyes dance with as much delight as the sky. To the question though she hesitates, letting the others fill in the topic. Her mind was too full of the evening already to think of possible stories to hear. So she settled in quietly at the back, simply ready to let this sweet mare’s melodious voice carry them on some tale of the past or story into another world.


"their speech goes here and this is the color

OOC:: She just chills in the back, in overwhelming excitement. XD


Image by Tamme!

Alysanne the Devoted Posts: 641
World's Edge Queen atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 hh :: 11 years HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Hemlock :: Flammulated Owl :: Heal & Cypress :: Great Horned Owl :: None Sarah
#3

When Alysanne heard that there was going to be a festival in the Basin, she started looking forward to the chance to travel up there again. To see Lena and Rexanna again! It would be good to see both of them under better circumstances - when Alysanne wasn’t festering with fever and being saved by Lena from her foolishness or when Rexanna had not just gone through a difficult birth that Alysanne had luckily stumbled across. She wanted to check up on the twins, anyway - she heard from Tembovu that they were doing alright but, well, she wanted to see for herself.

And who could resist a festival?

She travelled northward with a small group from the Edge, picking their way across the terrain. Fortunately, the weather stayed relatively calm for them and they arrived in the Basin soon after sunset - a blanket of stars shining above them and making the mountain herdland look beautiful. It had been dressed up and the herd welcomed them. Though there were a few things the painted mare wanted to check out, she was drawn first by the voice of one of her dearest friends - Lena was hosting a storytelling!

“Hello Adria!” Alysanne whickered a warm greeting to the blue-touched mare, glad that their second meeting was under better circumstances. It was easier to smile, to show that she wasn’t always such a broken mare. She didn’t want to be remembered for any of that. And, of course, the reason why she was no longer bleeding and limping and dragging herself across the ground was standing at the front of the crowd, her rich chocolate pelt illuminated with the soft glow of the fires.

As always, Alysanne’s eyes were soft and warm when she looks to Lena - her smile genuine and easy in the company of her friend. She found a spot next to one of the fires as Hemlock swooped to greet Imogen. Lena asked them what they would like to hear and though Alysanne knew any story told by her friend would be delightful to hear, she played along and offered some suggestions. “Perhaps a story of the God of Time? Or of the magical creatures you see around the mountains?”


And if I fall and crash and burn
at least we both know that I tried

image by Danjah
please tag Alysanne in replies
[Image: alysanne_by_schwartze-d89se15.png]
made by the lovely tamme
non-life threatening physical force is allowed at all times, but preference is to be checked with beforehand for any injuries

Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#4

She had always planned on coming, ever since Lena and Rexanna visited the Falls. Why? She wasn’t actually sure. Because festivals meant horses. Lots of them. Which meant there would probably be some accidental touching. But she’s gotten pretty good at avoiding that, even if crowds. She’s getting more used to herd living, even if parts of it still grate on her (meetings, meetings involve so many horses). But for the most part, she just found herself bored, and figured the festival would be something to do. Or at the very least (at the time) show her another herd land and maybe she’d decide to move.

Though a lot had changed since then, and she wouldn’t be moving. Now she was heading to the festival to learn. What a strange concept. She would have to ask questions, would have to listen, would have to care. But in truth, of all the things she could do, stories were rather agreeable. Her job was to listen and learn history. She didn’t have to pretend to be nice and diplomatic about it – she just couldn’t outright insult anyone about it. She didn’t have to lift heavy objects (sometimes the phantom muscle ache of moving logs still hunts her from the damn hut). She didn’t have to pretend like she cared enough to heal, or touch anyone in spars or sneakily knocking them out.

Being a storyteller was a job she was, at least, reasonably suited to. As far as her being suited to any actual job went. Mostly, she was suited to swimming. But that couldn’t be her entire life now. She makes her way to the Basin slowly, her steps plodding but sure, even though the mountain pass. It’s not like she’s not used to mountains, living in the Falls and all. Though it’s still clear she’s not the most comfortable on land. She doesn’t move with a much grace here as she might elsewhere, and her scaled, seal-gray skin and fins give her away anyway. So she doesn’t try to hide it.

Still, she makes it to the frozen herd land without much incident. It’s markedly colder, which she already hates, but the mountains around them block the worst of the wind, and there’s surprisingly a good bit of grasses around. The sky dances with color, and if she were asked, she might actually admit it’s rather lovely. But likely, no one will asked, and she doesn’t volunteer small talk typically. She’s not there for long before a voice reaches her ears. The voice is familiar, belonging to one of the two mares that visited (she doesn’t remember which), and is the one she follows. This is the one promises stories, which is exactly why she is here.

She’s not the first to arrive. There’s a mare from the Falls there already, and Alysanne, who she recalls from Threshold recently. She slides into the group, keeping herself to the side and back and bit though. Not quite near the fire (fire and water are not friends, and therefore, she’s not a huge fan), though near enough to catch some of the warmth from it. She nods to the group, offering, “Syrena,” mostly for Lena’s benefit, since she never actually introduced herself before. “Stories of the Time God, and the Basin?” She says, inclining her head a bit toward Alysanne as if agreeing with that suggestion, but adding in her own part. She needs to know everything, but asking for “everything” seemed a little stupid. So she sticks to her still rather broad request, hoping she’s come across as polite despite the rather emotionless voice. That part is just never going to change.


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me

image credits

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by Reli

Glasgow Posts: 127
Aurora Basin Apprentice atk: 3.5 | def: 10.0 | dam: 7.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3hh :: 11 years HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Skylark
#5
I’ll taste the devil's tears
The trek to the Basin from the Edge had been a rather simple one. There weren’t any storms she had come across, no difficulty in trying to remember how to get here from the Reaper’s directions, it almost made the mare feel young again. At least, if it weren’t for the fact it had taken her a bit longer to arrive as opposed to the younger crowds. Either way, Glasgow stepped through the Basin, slowly growing further familiar with the situation at hand, curious to see what this festival was all about. Though, perhaps she was even more curious of how her Greenhouse had withstood the temperamental storms of Orangemoon.

The chill greeted her bones, but it was a rather familiar feeling as she looked upon the droves of people. There was a gathering near the lake that seemed to pique the scarred woman’s attention. Her glassy gaze drifted and stuck on those that had gathered – few familiar faces. Glasgow was pleased to see Alysanne was there, as well as a couple other creatures she hadn’t met. However, when she made her way into the group, she captured the beautiful sing song voice of Lena as she spoke of storytelling. Ivory ears tipped toward the bay unicorn as a smile found her lips – she absolutely loved stories and anything to do with history for that matter.

Dipping her dual horned head to the group as well as Lena she offered the mare a bit of a wider smile, the scars pressing and bunching with the action. “Hello, Lena. It’s good to see you again.” She spoke gently before turning her attention to Alysanne with a dip of her head to her Queen. Then, she allowed her gaze to stick to the bay unicorn, excitement bubbling in her chest at the idea of stories – despite not having any suggestions of her own to add in.

"Talk."
Drink from his soul—
but i'll never give up you.
Glasgow
image | coding


Directly speaks to @Lena and acknowledges @Alysanne

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#6
Tembovu & Mbwene
He had been notably silent their small group’s walk to the Basin. Orangemoon had fallen, giving a crispness to the Edge’s air. But, as they travelled further north, the crispness became more of a cold nip, which only further tightened the King’s massive shoulders and creased his black brows.

He had waited out the long, hot days for this cooler weather. Rexanna had promised him an answer here, in this Festival. And so there was much more to this trip than a diplomatic display between the Edge and the Basin. At least, to the Elephant King there was.

In a display of solidarity, he stood alongside his new Queen. Though, in all truths, she acted more the seasoned monarch than the distracted King. She whickered greetings to those she knew, where his own attention remained inattentive to those around him, navy gaze skimming over others and seeking a familiar golden hue. His gaze stopped only once on the woman whose gray skin was hairless and smooth, curiosity having but a moment’s hold on his single-tracked mind.

His black-rimmed ear tilted sideways as Alysanne answered the story teller’s question. His gaze, not finding his siren just yet, swiveled to the Songbird. Indeed, the Elephant knew little of the Basin’s patron God. His gaze was solemn as he dipped his great skull in agreement with his lovely Queen’s request. He should know more of the gods, and if he was not yet finding the subject of his thoughts, then he should spend his time learning from the Basin. “I am Tembovu,” his introduction was generalized, to no one in particular, but rang deeply as his low roll usually did.

So, still standing tautly, he shifted and looked back and Mbwene, who had immediately been taken by the strange appearance of Syrena’s skin. Look soft. The elephant shuffled over, tooting pertly in greeting and raising her trunk expectantly—her way of asking if it would be alright to touch the woman’s uniquely smooth skin.

The Elephant sighed softly; his matriarch would forever be her own entity, as much as she shared a soul with him.


Stands next to @Alysanne , while Mbwene approaches & toots at @Syrena

Please tag Tembovu.

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#7

Lena the Songbird


The Songbird’s heart was moved, beating a tremendous, bright, brilliant crescendo as they came on flickering flames and edge mists, on the delightful unknown and the serenest of hues, on the rush of autumn and chilling ramparts. Her smile lifted into luminescent alms, splashing into the illustrious gathering, proclaiming grandeur, opulence, a radiant, reverent decree meant for each and every soul longing to listen to the threads of their yesteryears. She might have even cried for sheer happiness, but kept herself composed – content in their regard for the world she loved and cherished, tender towards them because they’d agreed to the Thief and the Mender’s invitations, warm and compassionate because they weren’t afraid of the once perilous and dominating fortress. She extended her benevolent greetings towards the first stranger, pearlescent and beautiful in the evening fires, “Hello! Welcome to the Basin!” and continued on as they ambled forth – sweet Alysanne, “It’s good to see you again, friend!” (with a wink, with a nudge to her shoulder) no longer bleeding or withering, decaying from the inside out (who requested stories of either creatures or the Time God himself), and then a watery fae she recognized from the Falls (Syrena, she called herself, and the femme placed it in her memories). Even Glasgow, dear, quiet Glasgow, had managed to return back to the glacial quarters, and Lena offered her the same sweet blessings and generosity. “Likewise! Perhaps, when you’re not busy, you may look in on your greenhouse,” and she winked again, turning her head towards the colossal Edge King, Tembovu. “We’re pleased to have you in our midst, sir.”
 
She acknowledged their desires and appeals, pondering over where to start when she finally surmised that it should be at the beginning – when everything for them started anew, fresh, foreign, but welcome (away from the strife, the agony, the anarchy). Her tunes were spells of enchantment and woven benedictions, a contortion of artwork for the soul. “The Time God has always been rewarding.” Her eyes lifted to the horizon, to the flames, to the fires flickering along each gaze, to the grand mountains that had granted them protection and security, tranquility and perseverance. “We were once a part of the Edge,” she began, reveling at the itch of history intertwined and layered between her limbs, along her veins, threaded across her heart in scars and banners. “There were only three herds at the time: the Windtossed Foothills, the Dragon’s Throat, and the World’s Edge.” She smiled towards Tembovu and Alysanne, wondering if they’d ever been granted the information she was about to impart, and if it even mattered – if stories and legends were nothing more than dust, no matter how many had lived through it. “While we lived in the Edge, we were invaded by an outcast band called the Qian, led by Mirage, and assisted by the Dragon’s Throat.” She paused, swallowed lightly (consumed the rancor threatening to build over her composed features, her beautiful, rapturous gaze), and continued on, a smile still embedded through her lips. “We lost, and became refugees along the Frostbreath Steppe. It was a terrible winter.” The nymph could remember the overwhelming sense of loss, of failure, of bitterness clouding their sentiments, of withering, decaying, and trying to find a way to live again. But her spirits lifted, and her grin too, recalling the spectacle of the Time God and the path he’d made for them. On a mellifluous chime, she continued their pivotal tale, exuding grace and poise where she might’ve faltered seasons before. “But we endured, and soon after, the Time God appeared before us, and granted us a home.” She’d never forget the way the sun glistened over the trail along the borders, how the summits had parted, how the power of hours and sparks had been transported into the elegant hills and powerful peaks they stood beneath now. “After he moved rocks, after he maneuvered stone, he led us into a lush valley, tall mountains, and a chilling wind, he allowed us to stay here – in the Aurora Basin.” Her eyes swept over the region again, and her heart soared, blessed all the more because she’d been granted the opportunity to stay here, in these walls, for so very long. Then she waited once more, to see if they had questions, concerns, or if they simply wanted more.

[Post order still a lie! ;D @Alysanne @Adria @Tembovu @Glasgow]

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Alysanne the Devoted Posts: 641
World's Edge Queen atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 hh :: 11 years HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Hemlock :: Flammulated Owl :: Heal & Cypress :: Great Horned Owl :: None Sarah
#8

A few familiar faces from the Edge joined Alysanne around Lena, eager to listen to a tale from the Basin’s beautiful healer. Tembovu came to stand by her side and, in the peace of the moment, Alysanne even offered him a small smile. Her attention drifted for a moment before she remembered that she actually had something to talk to him about. After he introduced himself, the painted queen turned her head slightly to address him in a quiet voice. “Before I forget, on the trip up here I intercepted a stealth from a golden unicorn going after something of Arah’s. He had two dark horns and a white marking on his forehead - almost like the leaf of a red oak…” But, uncertain about Tembovu’s knowledge on matters of dendrology, she continued with a brief explanation, “like the ones you see in the Thistle Meadow. I do not know his name, but he is certainly someone we should watch out for.”

It had been the first time that Alysanne had blocked a stealth, one of her new duties that she found strange. Surely Tembovu would know better how to deal with this situation?

Lena began to weave her story and Aly’s green eyes drifted away from Tembovu and toward her friend. She did not know much about the Time God - her experiences in Helovia centered pretty solely with the Moon Goddess - and she was incredibly interested in hearing what Lena had to say. She was surprised to learn that her friend had actually lived in the Edge once, and that they had been pushed out by an invasion. It made her sick to her stomach to think of the Qian pushing out her friend - remembering how Kahlua had welcomed her into the Edge all those years ago, telling her that the Qian were the peaceful group that ruled it.

“I never knew.” She whispered quietly, perhaps just quietly enough for Tembovu to hear as he stood by her side - feeling guilty despite the fact that she hadn’t even been in Helovia then, and she didn’t know if the Qian had a “good reason” for invading. “I am glad the Time God was able to help.” She couldn’t think of what else to say, a sadness settling upon her after this story - her head drooping a little bit as she lost herself in the thoughts of sweet Lena caught up in the horrors of war.


And if I fall and crash and burn
at least we both know that I tried

image by Danjah


talks to @Tembovu
please tag Alysanne in replies
[Image: alysanne_by_schwartze-d89se15.png]
made by the lovely tamme
non-life threatening physical force is allowed at all times, but preference is to be checked with beforehand for any injuries

Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#9

She stands off to the side for a reason. Usually it works. Usually, everyone just leaves her alone. Probably because of the emotionless look on her face, or the off-putting way she keeps to herself, or the fact she’s half a fish and that’s just weird. But apparently these cues are lost on elephants, or this particular elephant. Either way. It takes every ounce of effort not to go reeling backward, away from the elephant and that outstretched trunk.

This is what you get for joining a herd. And a getting a damn title, she thinks. Knowing full well she has to be polite and reasonable and basically not herself in a situation like this. Because currently she represents the falls or some nonsense like that, and she’s here to learn because that’s her job now (oh, just think of your own personal pool though,), and she’s here to be…well, kind of sociable.

Dammit.

Her face might actually have a hint of emotion on it – something that is probably akin to agony. Because she does not want this elephant near her, but she’s trying very hard to be friendly. Biting her own lip, and against every instinct, she sticks a foot out and nods at it. Saying, without actually saying, you can touch a tiny little party. Briefly. It’s the best she can manage, and even that has her entire insides crawling and she feels a hell of lot like she might burst into flames at any minute.

As soon as the elephant touches (if she does at all, maybe Syrena’s discomfort is so obvious even an elephant can tell), Syrena drops her foot and takes a slight step back. There, she thinks, vaguely proud of herself. Everyone else would probably wonder what on the Earth God’s green earth she has to be proud of. But that is a huge leap forward for her. Take it.

Thankfully, Lena starts in on her story, and Syrena turns her attention away from the elephant (though still thinking go away now) and to the topic at hand. This is why’d she come. It’s her job to learn the history of this place – of the Falls specifically, but of everything generally. And so she listens with a level of attention she does not normally have – ears perked forward, face still a mask of nothing though perhaps with a tiny glimmer in her ocean-blue eyes.

The Basin’s storyteller is a pretty thing, her words almost enchanting. Far more befitting a story teller than Syrena – who didn’t actually like talking, or other horses. But she could be more like this. She knew how. It was just a matter of trying, of remembering what it was like when her siren powers were intact. Some of those powers weren’t magic at all, just a learned skill. Smile sweetly, sing beautifully (her voice is still lovely, even though there’s no emotion to it now).

The story she paints for them now is the beginning of the Basin. Like so many things, this place was born of ash. Given to those who hadn’t been strong enough to keep their own home. Did they make them unworthy, or did their perseverance in the cold and their hope give them worth in the eyes of the Gods? It was a question to ask the Gods, perhaps.

The story comes to an end, and Alysanne offers comforting words. Syrena has no such words to give, just a nod of her head that is, somehow, respectful (even coming for her). It is a thank you without words, an acknowledgment that it has cost Lena something to give them this information. Though she told it beautifully, it is a story that seems to be very much a part of the mare. It is also a nod that encourages more. Syrena was simply here to listen.


les words "chat chat"

Syrena

let the water take me

image credits


@Tembovu & Mbwene - i think Syrena's gonna go have a heart attack now

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by Reli

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#10
Tembovu & Mbwene
His distracted mind was drawn to his present surroundings when Aysanne addressed him directly; searching and distant navy eyes snapping to her verdant eyes in time to catch her small smile, and he returned it with a tight-lipped, tiny smile of his own. But it faded the moment she began to speak, telling him of a thief she had intercepted, referencing a leaf-marking on his forehead. Alysanne was right in assuming his knowledge of dendrology was lacking, as expressed by his blank look at her calling it a ‘red oak’ leaf. But then, upon her further explanation, realization snapped into place and his navy gaze sharpened and narrowed slightly. He knew of a unicorn who matched her description: Thranduil. His thick lips pursed, great head nodding slightly, “Thank you for telling me, Alysanne.”

But then his deep voice, still carrying despite being a murmur, hushed as the storyteller began to weaver her tales. His ears remained perked, listening intently. But his mind floated in and out of reliving her narration, the information Aly had just given him, and the fact that Rexanna was to give him an answer this evening.

That is not to say that the Songbird’s sung tales weren’t entertaining or informative. In fact, just the opposite: they enlightened the King on many matters of which he was ignorant. And thus he was glad he stayed to hear them, rather than rush off to find his lover. As was Mbwene, though the soft-looking mare had begrudged her the welcome of actually feeling her peculiar skin. The small elephant had tottered back towards @Glasgow curling at the Glazier’s feet and raptly listening to Lena.

But, after the Songbird had finished her first (if there were more) saga, the King dipped his head, “Thank you, Lena. Your tale gave life to the past.” His low rumble ended and he began to slip away, seeking answers and his lover. Though Mbwene stayed, tooting to affirm that she, too, though the story was wonderful and that she was staying to hear more, if there was any.

Please tag Tembovu.


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