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10-16-2016, 03:39 PM
Everything is awesome, when we're living our dream!
So much happens. Within moments a crowd assembles around you, basically the entire population of Helovia massing in response to the stranger's call (and how did they all here it? Did they really just happen to be on the beach - all of them? In the middle of fall? It's quite fishy, if you think about it.
But of course you don't. Wouldn't want to go breaking down any carefully constructed walls, now, would we?)
The stranger seems content to wait for the crowd to stop growing, and so you wait, too, your bright eyes taking in the assembly of Helovians with something akin to awe. @Erebos is the first one to really make an impression on you, the older boy you met once before coming to stand beside you in a show of friendly support. You grin at him - "Whaddya think is gonna happen?" - but your voice is drowned by the myriad of others, and before you can really get a response even more people show up. You try to catch sight of familiar faces, craning your neck back and to the right, until suddenly you feel something odd and whip your head around, coming face to face with a small, horned filly whose teeth are inches from your metal side.
For a second you can only stare at @Esinakh, your face awash with abject confusion. People have reacted oddly to your absent wing before, but very few have tried to it. "Uhh..." you manage, before your eyes slip past her and to the colt who sulks by her side, and suddenly a lightbulb goes off in your head. @Arakh was one of the collection of kids at Gaucho's death, you remember, and though you do not know his name, the combination of the memory and the distinctive barring on the childrens' legs is enough to suggest that these must be more of your countless half-siblings. Your expression softens into a smile, and you laugh good-naturedly at the curious girl. "You can touch it, if you like!" you informyour sister, "But I'd rather you not bite me- your teeth look awfully sharp." You wink at the boy, trying to pull him into the game. They may not know you're related, but now that you do, well...
Let it never be said you aren't a sucker for family.
The next voice to pierce through your reviere is one you'd recognize and welcome any time. "Själ!" you exclaim, delight illuminating your features. "Ansgar! I dunno," you answer in a whisper, as though this reduced decibel will somehow make it easier for you to converse. "But it's pretty cool, right?" There is no denying the earnestness of your smile, the excitement in your eyes. You nudge the princesses's shoulder, warmth blooming at the simple fact of being in the presence of your friend. A lot has changed in the short time since you saw her last, and you want to tell her everything- but before you can, the Stranger is speaking, his voice a rolling wave above the assembled crowd.
Kisamoa, he says he is, a cousin of the Earth God. Does that mean he's related to Isopia?, you wonder, and crane your neck unsuccessfully to catch sight of the Mountain Queen. He says he left the blackened waters (Water can be black?) to seek out your help, and instantly your ears perk up. You are, after all, a particularly good helper, a hero of small stature but excessively large heart. Already people are volunteering, their voices rising in offering of assistance, and yours is quick to join- with a string of questions, of course, tacked onto the end.
"What happened to the Black Land?" you wonder, though the question is addressed to Erebos and Själ as much as Kisamoa. They seem very knowledgeable, especially the older boy. "Ma said it died after the wraiths, but why? Is it sick? How come nobody goes there? Maybe we oughta get all the healers together to try an' clean out the infection, before we go into it? An' the warriors, in case there's monsters? An' then the crafters can make armor. An' spies can go scope it out first, of course." Your mind and motor mouth run a mile a minute, assembling a plan with far more zeal than thought. You look to your friends for their opinions and approval, thoroughly exhilarated by the idea of something so big. This is much better than getting attacked by giant tigers and nearly dying, you decide.
But of course you don't. Wouldn't want to go breaking down any carefully constructed walls, now, would we?)
The stranger seems content to wait for the crowd to stop growing, and so you wait, too, your bright eyes taking in the assembly of Helovians with something akin to awe. @Erebos is the first one to really make an impression on you, the older boy you met once before coming to stand beside you in a show of friendly support. You grin at him - "Whaddya think is gonna happen?" - but your voice is drowned by the myriad of others, and before you can really get a response even more people show up. You try to catch sight of familiar faces, craning your neck back and to the right, until suddenly you feel something odd and whip your head around, coming face to face with a small, horned filly whose teeth are inches from your metal side.
For a second you can only stare at @Esinakh, your face awash with abject confusion. People have reacted oddly to your absent wing before, but very few have tried to it. "Uhh..." you manage, before your eyes slip past her and to the colt who sulks by her side, and suddenly a lightbulb goes off in your head. @Arakh was one of the collection of kids at Gaucho's death, you remember, and though you do not know his name, the combination of the memory and the distinctive barring on the childrens' legs is enough to suggest that these must be more of your countless half-siblings. Your expression softens into a smile, and you laugh good-naturedly at the curious girl. "You can touch it, if you like!" you inform
Let it never be said you aren't a sucker for family.
The next voice to pierce through your reviere is one you'd recognize and welcome any time. "Själ!" you exclaim, delight illuminating your features. "Ansgar! I dunno," you answer in a whisper, as though this reduced decibel will somehow make it easier for you to converse. "But it's pretty cool, right?" There is no denying the earnestness of your smile, the excitement in your eyes. You nudge the princesses's shoulder, warmth blooming at the simple fact of being in the presence of your friend. A lot has changed in the short time since you saw her last, and you want to tell her everything- but before you can, the Stranger is speaking, his voice a rolling wave above the assembled crowd.
Kisamoa, he says he is, a cousin of the Earth God. Does that mean he's related to Isopia?, you wonder, and crane your neck unsuccessfully to catch sight of the Mountain Queen. He says he left the blackened waters (Water can be black?) to seek out your help, and instantly your ears perk up. You are, after all, a particularly good helper, a hero of small stature but excessively large heart. Already people are volunteering, their voices rising in offering of assistance, and yours is quick to join- with a string of questions, of course, tacked onto the end.
"What happened to the Black Land?" you wonder, though the question is addressed to Erebos and Själ as much as Kisamoa. They seem very knowledgeable, especially the older boy. "Ma said it died after the wraiths, but why? Is it sick? How come nobody goes there? Maybe we oughta get all the healers together to try an' clean out the infection, before we go into it? An' the warriors, in case there's monsters? An' then the crafters can make armor. An' spies can go scope it out first, of course." Your mind and motor mouth run a mile a minute, assembling a plan with far more zeal than thought. You look to your friends for their opinions and approval, thoroughly exhilarated by the idea of something so big. This is much better than getting attacked by giant tigers and nearly dying, you decide.
