"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.
but i've pushed myself down so far i couldnt come back if i tried
There is a certain gloom that engulfs your heart as you step in to the snow-covered meadow despite the festive air. Its beauty has never been lost on you for all the times that you have seen it in a hundred different lights, and perhaps you would be as enthralled as so many of the others making their way towards the meadow's heart if not for what had been buried underneath. You grimace, pulling your face away from the looming mountains dusted with snow, from your memories, that still-tender ache within your heart, your teeth clutching a medium-sized shell, spiraled in soft creams.
You had found it along the beach what feels like ages ago when you had tended to a man that had felt dragon's fire, the rest of the truth about him hidden under your heart to be forgotten. It is easy to find the tree that you had come to see with a stream of others, a strange turtle at its base watching as each took their turn to place their trinkets on the pine. Few you recognize, and as Erebos moves back from giving his, you reach to place your little shell carefully on a swooping arm of the tree.
He speaks of his mother, of her absence and you cannot help but wonder if gone meant only lost or passed on. You do not know which would be worse—knowing that you would never see someone again or hoping, waiting for a time that they would return to you. While your heart breaks for your friend, only a glance is given in his direction at first, your lips pressed together in a small, painful little smile. One last look is given to your shell, and it reminds you of the seaside that you once knew, once called home (and it always will be, beneath the winter that’s always in your heart). Of your brother, of your mother and father; of a man who has disappeared, left you and taken shards of you that will never be replaced with him.
You do not say these things, these things held too near to your blistered soul, too sentimental for the judgement of strangers. After moments you step away from the tree gingerly, turning to your lionhearted princeling and pressing your muzzle to his shoulder in quiet comfort.
"We're gonna be late, ma!" His excited form chirped as he leaped over another large mound of snow, mismatched eyes diligently followed the forms of the equines infront and above him as the all traveled the meadow. He'd all but charged after them with his mother in tow as she tried to keep her wayward child in line, but he'd torn ahead on gangly legs and flighted spirits. If only he had wings! He'd have been able to get there in no time, rather than his hopped steps over particularly large and perilous snow mounds. They'd deceived him once or twice in his adventures in the meadow, why just yesterday he'd stepped into one and fallen completely through the white ground into a concealed dip in the ground. He'd wiggled his way out, but not before he'd used it as a hiding place to escape his ma's keen eye.
He's the first out of the pair to arrive, they'd left his brother in the safety of the Throat and while he'd been reluctant to leave Jude behind, he knew that he'd feel better when he came back with more stories to tell. He'd be nice and toasty, and then they could huddle down together while the younger of the two had his poor ears talked off by his older brother.
True to form, his gold and emerald gaze landed straight upon the Earth Turtle, his cloven hooves already marched him forward as a grin appeared on his face. Childish glee and excitement at it's finest. Others appeared to be placing bits and pieces on the Pine Tree the old turtle stood under, but he found himself more interested in the unusual creature and his magical markings. "Hello Mr. Turtle." He greeted excitedly, then turned his attention back to the tree which now glittered with various trinkets and slightly questionable things.
What could he put on it? An ear tipped backward as he pondered, he didn't have much of anything to put on it, except the little beads his mother occasionally popped into his hair. Too small to be of any real use to such a big tree, but it was the thought that counted, right? So he took one between his teeth and popped it on the nearest branch, it's emerald appearance glinted in the frosty light. Satisfied, the young colt stepped backward toward the chimeric mare that was his mother.
No rest for the wicked, it appeared like. The warrioress trudged tirelessly over the meadow after the Sprite-like colt she called her son. He was a nonstop source of amusement and frustration for her, but she had to admit, between him and Jude, they provided a unique balance within her life. At least one of them behaved, the wild streak passed on in favor of her eldest son, leaving her youngest a docile babe she felt compelled to protect from the world lest he be shattered by it.
"Byron, don't get too far ahead." She yelled, nares flared and wings spread. Useless, for sure, he'd answer her with his usual comment and step up the pace. Such mischief. Her own unusual eyes are taken off of her babe when Atreus landed upon her back. "You're getting fat." She quipped with a smirk, the vulture huffed and uttered an offended squawk while he jabbed at her mind. "Just kidding, sort of." She mused, an invisible brow lifted to compliment her wicked smile.
It had been an unusual year, one she couldn't say she was sad to see the end of. It had gone from a summer squall to a hurricane, and now with the frost touching the horizon and the year coming to a close, she prayed to the Sun God that she might be blessed with better luck and a bigger wealth of fire in her heart as the new year ushered in.
Let it be the year I shine, she had whispered to the eternal fire one night as she'd turned to go back to her cave on rocky ridges.
For now, her thoughts of home are a mere thought on the wind. The gathered equines instead the focus of her mind and attention as she finally joined the throng. Many she recognized and many she did not, not unusual given how fast and different the land was. The ginger lad is there, and once again she bit her tongue. As much as her fire roared to march over there, Atreus and the sight of her colt stilled her hoof. The vulture had been a much needed addition to her soul, his patient and calculated wisdom and cunning helped temper her fire where it would burn without consequence. His quiet, soothing presence both physically and mentally helped her focus and see reason.
Atreus is the one who moved on their behalf, one of his reddened feathers between his beak as he tucked it on the pine tree. Her wing extended to offer shelter for Byron when he returned to her, her muzzle dropped to nose affectionately at his flaxen locks, an embarrassed snort coming from the colt.
"For when my soul connected with another." She explained simply, her gold and blue eyes flickered to the bird which swooped around the tree.
Nephele decorates the tree with one of Atreus' feathers.
“She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.”
― Terry Pratchett
Please tag Neph in all replies!
Force & violence permitted with the exception of maiming & death
I'll carry you on my shoulders, never set you down.
Ferry you through the coldness, never let you down.
The cold did not bother the girl, intact she rather liked the way the air made her skin crawl. It was the snow that she despised. Yet today she had to brave the wet, disgusting stuff. She had trailed after Alysanne, not realising that it was probably creepy. No, she had simply witnessed the winged mare wondering away and was curious about the mare's destination. In order to satisfy her curiosity the only thing to do was follow the pretty mare. When they reached the spectacle that was the turtle and his tree being decorated, the pale dove couldn't help the snort that frosted in front of her pink nose. As each person stepped forward and place an important item on the tree they stated why it was special or important.
Truthfully the tree was looking rather marvellous, it sparkled, glinted and shone with all of the items hanging from the branches. It also made her feel silly for coming. She had no such items to decorate the tree with. Nothing that held any meaning to her, after all she'd long been on her own. No one had gifted her with any such items, maybe she'd have to make some friends and eventually be given something. Nothing pretty or glittery....or wait.
Eyeing the thick pale hairs on her tail she wondered if they would be accepted by the turtle. They were pretty she supposed, glinting palely in light from the tree. Holding her tail up she inspected the stands before looking out across the meadow. Spied a log half buried in the snow she makes her way over to it, drapes her tail over the sharp end then walks, feeling the tug and finally release as a small amount of hair was pulled free from her tail. Turning and collecting the hairs the pale dove trotted happily back to the tree, grinning around the split, snapped and ruined hairs.
Waiting her turn she moved up to the branches and rather unceremoniously spat the now damp bunch onto the branches. "I don't have any items but these hairs are pretty. I guess." With a nonchalant shrug of her right shoulder the dove turned from the and returned to the outskirts, waiting and watching to see if others would step forward to add their items to the tree.
[Ráeru rips some hair out of her tail and unceremoniously spits them onto the tree.]
It was because of the burning pain inside my chest and under my feet, I found paradise.
There, waiting for her, was Verro. The darker one one of the twins stood on the snow covered banks, waiting for her. Tasokh had sauntered up to the other in her own sweet time, grinning good-naturedly. It was good to see her sister again after their time apart. This time however they would both return to their true home. "Verro!" The lighter girl greeted happily. Reaching up to her sister's neck for a quick embrace, seeking to familiar, comforting warmth of her sister. Despite having spent so much time in the Edge she still smelt like, well, like Verro. It brought her back to the time they'd reunited in the meadow and Tasokh had realised that time or location did not change the fact that Verro would always be her sister.
Together they approached the tree, both girls took a moment to study those gathered, noting her mother and the young colt hovering around her ankles. Tasokh did not truly know anyone else, few she recognised from her home. Yet never had she spoken to them, after all she'd been too busy searching for her sister. Though she did note the familiar faces of World Edge children, having played with them recently.
Her attention is returned to Verro at her sister's words, then her eyes drift down to rest upon the unusual looking turtle which sat beneath the tree. "I think he's different from every other turtle." She chuckled lightly, studying the creature. "Strange even."
Waiting until her sister had decorated the tree with her feather, Tasokh stepped forward and tugs the black feather from her hair and sets it beside her sister's white one. "A feather from my late father's wing." He was not very dear to her, in fact Tasokh barely remembered the stud aside from his flaming wings. But the feather reminded her that she had a father. Stepping back she glanced over to her mother again, raising her voice over the noise she softly called to the woman, inviting her and the colt with her to stand beside them.
This winter seemed to have laster longer than the previous one, she was tired of freezing and was more than ready to welcome the warmth back into her life. Still it would not prevent her from exploring all Helovia had to offer, cold or not she always found interesting souls during her travels. So it came as no surprise to the girl to find so many gathering in a particular place. Taking it all in her stride she held her head high and strutted towards the crowd.
At first she only had eyes for the trinkets upon the branches. The many stunning items looked truly spectacular on the tree, her breath hitched in her throat.
While it had been the gathered crowds had captured her attentions, her interest was wholly held by the beautifully decorated tree. Those gathered around it were each taking turns to add their own trinket, smiling she shook her head and pondered which item meant more to her. The dreamcatcher woven into her mane had been with her since her first year in Helovia. Gently she tugged it free, grimacing as a few strands of her dark hair came away with the leather band. Spreading her wings she leapt into the air, decorating the harder to reach places of the tree. Draping it delicately from one the branches she grinned happily and carefully landed within the crowd. Looking towards the strange turtle she gently spoke to him. "I've had this dreamcatcher for many years. It reminds me of the magic within Helovia and within myself." Having finished her piece she stepped back and mingled with those gathered, eyeing the more familiar faces of Volterra and Rikyn from afar.
[Aelin hangs her dream catcher from one of the branches.]
There is no such thing as reality. There is just you and me.
I guess jealousy's the curse that the struggle inspires.
☀ Force and magic permitted. ☀
☀ No fatal or permanent damage. ☀
☀ Please only tag in opening posts. ☀
It was so fulfilling to be wandering Helovia with company. Aelfwine had spent far too long meandering the lands with not a single soul to speak to. Oftentimes spending the day speaking to the squirrels and various creatures of the lands she spent her days in. At least this way, she could view the world the way she had always wanted to, by travels, but actually spend them with someone. And not just someone, but her brother. Family. It was far more perfect than she could ever have imagined.
She only seemed to pay attention when Bartholomeo began to slow – her emerald gaze focusing on a crowd that had begun gathering. Her eyes began to dance around the group as well, searching for the voice that rung out across them all. Spotting the turtle, her ears flickered in uncertainty until Bart’s voice quietly reached the velvet flutes. “Are talking sea-creatures the norm here, then?” He questioned and she couldn’t refuse from a small laugh. “It appears so. They’re the only things I’ve really encountered, aside from a baby elk that could talk.” She informed him with a slight wink and another small laugh.
They began to approach, however, and she watched her brother in a quiet acceptance as he pulled the small bone from his mane to place upon the tree. The dappled doe remembered how much his son loved the little thing. And what a beautiful way it was to remember someone so close on a day like this. She waited until he returned before she glanced around to see what else everyone had placed on there. There were a few skulls and various things here and there of other meanings – but when she saw Tilney’s lantern, she knew what she had to do. Lowering her head to the ground, she shrugged her shoulders until the compass that rested along her breast slid from her dappled neck. As it hit the ground, she picked it up in her teeth and gentle placed it onto the tree. “A compass gifted to me from my mother. To make sure I never got lost in my search for what I love most.” She admitted quietly to the turtle, eyes scanning for Tilney before she returned to her place alongside her pirate brother, giving him a gentle meek smile.
At first he assumes the sloppy, muddied trenches of countless overlaid hoof prints cutting through the snow will lead him to the sea creature, Kisamoa, but as the old stallion lumbers along behind the main group of curious Helovians he finds himself traveling inland rather than back out toward the coast. A sour expression twists his features and lays flat his ears, pinning tighter to his head with every squelch of cold, disgusting footing along the way. It’s not until he’s caught up to and rudely shouldered past the outer ring of expectant onlookers that his scowling eyes catch sight of the massive turtle resting at the base of an old evergreen tree.
One ear flicks forward as a stream of sunlight falls across the turtles back, bringing the images painted there to vivid life and color. Strom noses his head free of the wool neck covering holding him against the stallions chest, peeking tentatively out at the spectacle around them. He can feel, through the sentiments of his bonded, that the trees decorations and the turtle with his magic mural shell are beautiful, but he has trouble distinguishing the scene for himself with his poor eyesight and the harsh contrast of hot and cold in his thermal vision. Pouting and feeling slighted, he slips back into the warmth of his scarf with a tiny huff of disappointment.
The stallion tilts his head, staring down at the little bulge of snake inside the stained cloth, his sour expression softening. The young companion has been distant and unhappy almost without pause since escorting the blacks son to the Dragons Throat from the maze of the Heart Caves, his jealousy and hurt feelings only deepening in the silent interim since. Gently, the stallion reaches down and nuzzles into the folds of material, probing around with comical clumsiness as if searching for something. He bumps against the young python no matter how he wriggles and coils to avoid contact, gently lipping at the snakes smooth scales and pear shaped head, eventually eliciting a surge of amusement and delight as the game becomes obvious. “Look.” He beckons, pulling free of the scarf with something small and papery pinched between his lips.
Sidestepping to the rear of the tree, he ducks beneath its lowest branches and reaches up to arrange the tiny snakeskin from Stroms first shed across one thin outshoot, posing there once he's finished with his nose raised like a bridge, his thoughts urging, go see. Elation and excitement surge through the pairs bond, a bright shock like sunlight behind closed eyes, as the young python zigzags his way over the stallions withers, poll, and up the plane of his face to the branches above, keen to explore the trinkets hanging there by touch and smell.
"Talk."
OOC // Awwww. Alby places a snakeskin (and his snake) on the tree.
It had been a while since the golden had walked so confidently abroad. For a month he had been gone, for months before that he’d slunk about with more skill than a rat. Never seen, never heard, only traces found. Yet now he was feeling quite different. Now he bore his crown in power once more, and he forgot how its weight made him carry it higher.
Of course that didn’t mean he was suddenly reformed. There was much still the same about the Laurelin, especially his fondness for wandering where ever he could, and far from anything tainted with the word ‘duty’. So even though the snow covered the ground and the northern winds blew he dashed through it with a light heart and high step. Haldir, beside him, even threw in a buck or two as the journeyed looking for no one, and nothing.
There were however, some pressing details. He was still going the wrong direction. He was meant on this day to turn north and head up to the mountain peaks. The Lady of those wolves surely awaited him., and even he could not deny the primeval urges to go to her. So yes, he would travel there next, but in the calm of the day, with its soothing serenity and he had not yet altered course.
And that is how they came upon the little gathering. Well….not so little. Half of Helovia was circling a large pine. The scene these two were no stranger to. Thranduil snorted in derision, but Haldir’s face lit up. The gold hadn’t yet come down to a large gathering so publicly in quite some age, but it was about time, besides there were some very interesting objects on that tree. Haldir dashed on ahead through the crowd, taking moments to step and bellow to fellow companions he knew, and avoiding those he wished not to meet even on lite ally. He caught the whispers of the task ahead, and as the gold wound his way through the crowd, brought it to the gold’s attention.
Something must be given? The Laurelin did not answer the first probe of his companion. He was not exactly a giving creature. But Haldir was persistent as they come, and for every dark of the gold, he was light. His heart still clung to innocent notions of giving, peace on earth, and goodwill. So he persisted, explaining what he heard as the gold came to a halt near the central group. Magic day? The gold looked up at the tree littered with a shell, trinkets, some feather, a skull? His ears fall back. Yeah….real magical. This was Helovia for gods sake, surely they could do better than that… (He may not be giving but he was as competitive and vain as they come).Then an idea formed in his mind.
The gold wished to quickly forget it, it risked far too much. But Haldir had seen it through their bond and he latched onto it. There was no talking him out of it. The silent argument persisted, till the gold wished no more to risk a scene. ”Be quick so not many notice how it happens.” Was at last his consent. The stag leapt forward, and grabbed from the gold a black cloth, shimmering with potential. The stag did his work quickly, letting his own magic, the dark mists which could confounded those near roll, in hopes of screening his task. He darted around the base, wrapping the cloth around, and tucking it as high as he could. He spun as he let go of the last of it and stepped back just to see it shiver, and the base of the tree fall away like sand. The tree now seemed to hover above the earth, nothing visible holding it aloft. The gold watched with some smug satisfaction, now that was a show of magic.
"Talk."
OOC:: Thranduil adds his invisibility cloak around the base of the tree making it look like it floats!
( I hope, I never could read just what the tree looked like, so I'm hoping it had a trunk XD )
Just as a side note, Haldir gets his mists going, so it should be harder to tell how it happens,
but that's just a suggestion. =]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
Archibald knew the turtle would return, as he did every year. He did not know, however, that this year the giant elder would call for decoration. The Dauntless was not one for design--the ornate carving of his armor came with it when it was gifted to him. He did not quest for it from the gods like so many others, and the gods paint the desires of their hearts into the metal. Archibald had been something else entirely, and even though the steel hung with intricate designs etched into it, the Dauntless did not dictate it. He looked down to Loretta with molten eyes, and ambers turned skyward in a massive rolling motion.
I am not a decorator. She growled mentally. Archibald shrugged, tail flicking against his hocks as he pressed forward. The red and white cur followed, tail lifting and curling over her strong back. Keen eyes moved around to those already gathered, his sons nowhere to be seen. The Dauntless grit his teeth together, ears flicking back slightly. Ktulu was not in sight either. Where were they all? Snorting, the massive warlord watched as the horses gathered offered their items to the tree.
We could give them the feather. Loretta spoke finally, tilting her head to the side and looking up to the behemoth. With furrowed brows, Archibald nodded and knelt down. The dragon-slayer placed her paws on his heavy shoulder, gripping the feather with her teeth. With Archibald's thick mess of mane the dog had to pull hard and for a few minutes, but finally it snapped free. Turning away as Archibald rose to his massive height once more, Loretta trotted toward the giving tree and placed the feather on a low branch.
[Archibald offers Rhoa's feather.]
Archibald the Dauntless
Bury the darkness behind you.
Bury the darkness inside of you
12-21-2016, 12:50 PM (This post was last modified: 12-21-2016, 12:58 PM by Abraham.)
Abraham
Like his father before him, Abraham had encountered this large turtle before. While he may not be the most festive creature by nature, Abraham and his dragons were still drawn to the familiar gathering like the others were. In a strong trot, the leviathan stallion made his way toward those that stood in awe of the tree and in awe of the magic surrounding them. The black and white behemoth had nothing to compare Helovia to, but he knew from the stories his mother told him and his wombmate as colts that other lands were not as inherently magical as the land they were born into. For at least this, Abraham had some appreciation for the earth he stood upon.
Wardragons flitted above him, the sun glittering and glistening off beautiful scales. The pair trilled calmly, their sharp eyes seeking out others of their kind. Not now. Abraham commanded, and with a dual hiss the pair dropped from the sky and onto his broad back. Take this. Abraham nodded his head toward the charm hanging from his shoulder armor. Gwyneverre grabbed the charm and flew away from the stallion, her golden sister staying perched as a sentinel on his withers. The white circled the tree before hanging the acorn charm on a middle branch. Trilling pleasantly, the white returned to her master.
The trio stopped on the crest of a hill, the wind pulling tendrils of Abraham's thick mane. Mismatched eyes scanned those below him, resting on his father for a moment before continuing to scan.
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
12-21-2016, 01:08 PM (This post was last modified: 12-21-2016, 01:09 PM by Kiada.)
KIADA && KIANZO
once upon a time...
Finally, everything was right in Kiada’s world. She stood alongside her brother, her other half, the sun to her moon. They were able to once again adventure with one another, learn things together, fight alongside one another, and it was such a wonderful thing for her. They could finally become that unstoppable force, one that they could have been the whole time before fate pulled them away from one another. Now, she wouldn’t let him out of her sight for long. And as she moved, she kept an extremely close proximity, her ivory hip brushing against his golden one with every step.
They came upon a gathering, where a few familiar faces lurked, as Kiada’s gaze danced to the large tree in the middle. Khairi hopped alongside the trio, unable to fly slow enough and keep height on them to stay near them. And he missed Keusi far too much to be able to fly out of her sight. When they approached the large pine, Kianzo paused in his step and the filly did the same. Her flames flickering with deer of curiosity, melded with griffons here and there. Finally a confident child among the great brute force of her twin. His pale muzzle turned into a grin, and her ivory rimmed ears flickered to him as he began to speak, twitching lightly with the gentle tugs he gave her. “Oh, there’s plenty of intriguing items.” She cooed in response. “But I’m not sure if there’s anything of use to us.” Her voice had lowered into a whisper, as her blues sought his briefly as he pulled a gentle piece of her white forelock.
She stood behind, watching as he took one of the teeth that Keusi had shed and wrapped it around the tree with the piece of her mane. Immediately, she knew she had to do the same. At least, now that she had him with her. His gaze sharpened onto her as she bounded toward him, grace lacing each swift step. She moved alongside him, pressing her face into his neck gently while her pink lips trailed his own dual colored mane, aiming for a small piece of the dark brown that adorned most of his neck. She pulled a piece from his neck, grinning to him with her pink splotched lips, before moving to Khairi who had plucked a feather of his own and waited patiently for the piece of mane from Kianzo. The filly lowered the other item to the bird, who then wrapped it around his pale feather, then took off to the sky to place it high among the tree before returning to Kiada. “The two parts of my soul as well.” She answered in a light tone, her voice calm and soothing as her gaze trailed to the turtle before looking back at Kianzo, leaning into his gilded embrace.
12-21-2016, 02:27 PM (This post was last modified: 12-21-2016, 02:28 PM by Larue.)
Larue...
A Turtle? A giant, talking turtle? The lemon drop’s candied, teal eyes screw up in suspicious dismissiveness. What good is a turtle? Her teenage, holier-than-thou thoughts begin to steamroll down this train of thought, meanly tearing apart any and all good things about this turtle and his lame tree. Why had her pops even drug her here? She had better things to do with her time.
So she sat at the back of the crowd, faux-lazy stare giving judgmental looks at any and all—that is, until her attention was drawn by @Arakh bleating. The hot-with-a-captial-‘H’ colt from Kisamoa’s arrival. Lemon-freckled ears perk forward, her pink-painted limbs (still short ‘cause she was tiny, but slender in proportion to her body) sidling her up close to the grey, bull-horned colt. Even being slightly younger than her, he was still taller, bigger, dreamy. Her lashes fluttered once, “Heya—”
But before the puppy-love-filly could really get going, her attention was draw to her pops, as he was carefully placing something on the tree. Her bright eyes narrowed slightly, trying to see just what lame-o trinket he was putting—
Soft, pink lips part and her eyes widened. It was her. A soft warmth replaced the cold, too-cool-for-school indifference in her chest. A small, fleeting smile passed over her lemony face, before her gaze darted to Arakh. Suddenly, she felt the urge to place something on a limb, as well.
But, in her snarky mindset, she hadn’t prepared anything to put on the tree, herself. Chewing on her lips she slowly shuffled forward, gaze growing apologetic and abashed as she looked at the Turtle, “Sorry Turts, but—uh, all I have is—uh, well, me… But, I’m thankful to be me—and, uh— for my pops, and ma, and Beans, and the Basin, and everything that makes me, well, me.” And with that, she nipped off a bit of her lemony hide from her chest, wincing only slightly, before placing it on the highest branch she could reach (which wasn’t, really, that high).
The cold season marked the passing of another year in Helovia. And time, it’s endless marching beat, slowly wore away the proud ferocity that was Aquila. The seahorse’s limbs moved in a sluggish gait, her ridges lay flat and lifeless against her neck. Even her barbed tail drug lightly in the snow, leaving a trail behind her in the powder.
She was drawn the turtle’s call, not because of his words, but because of the feeling in them. There was some sort of promise, some hope, that her blue-blood-pumping heart was drawn to—that it needed. As she approached, her unblinking and overlarge eyes (but they were so dull, now) watched others put things on the tree. Materialistic things, but filled with immaterial, intangible meaning.
A soft, quiet breath pushed out of her ridged nostrils. She had so little that she felt she had nothing. Nothing of consequence. Nothing of worth. She hovered at the other side of the tree, apart from all these Helovians, mind turning and thinking as slowly and downtrodden as her appearance.
And then she stepped forward, sharp teeth grasping and freeing a small, grey, mercurial amulet from amid her tightly fitted ridges of her withers. “I found this deep in the sea, where my home once was,” her deep, throaty voice sounded blandly—so different from her usual boldness.
Indeed, she had found this amulet shortly after the diving expedition with Kisamoa and all the other Helovians. She had returned to try and find the reef he had showed them that day—hoping (praying) that it contained some portal to the Rift.
But it hadn’t. It had only given her this. A promise of some sort. Or, perhaps more appropriately, a consolation.
"... in a single day and night of misfortune, the island disappeared into the depths of the sea."
12-21-2016, 06:34 PM (This post was last modified: 12-22-2016, 04:51 AM by Sacre.
Edit Reason: horrendous typos what r u doing imi
)
As he trudged his way through the snowy landscape, his foxes cast out in front of him, Sacre found himself following a trail of many who had only recently passed through. In truth, the fox-boy disliked the Thistle Meadow, it was where he had been born, but also where his mother had perished and every time he came here there was a bitter taste in his mouth. He passed through silently with a haunted face and his entire focus fixed on the point ahead… A familiar turtle.
Caela Insula—that was the last place Sacre had seen this saintly old soul and quite suddenly, like a small miracle in his gloomy world, the fox-boy’s youthful smile slayed his sombre look when it pierced across his lips, lighting up his once dismal expression. Even then, as he bounded towards the gentle turtle, there was a new clarity to the world as if it was imbued by magic he had never seen before. The noises of wildlife, of nature, had never been more prevalent in his mind as he listened to the song of a Frost Oriole whilst pondering the tree before him.
Many had already decorated it in their various trinkets ranging from jewels to severed heads, which Sacre thought aptly portrayed the rather varying personalities one could find in this mismatched world. He thought about what he might contribute himself to the tree, flatly refusing to offer his red arrow, though it might be magical, it was no ornament. Instead he reached for something else, the only other thing that reminded him of magic, as he took out his sun amulet, clenching it between his teeth and placing it on the tree next to the other gifts. Satisfied, he made his way back through the crowd leaving his foxes to idle by the many items being offered and he would have continued on home only that his heart skipped in surprise. There, in the busyness of his surroundings, he noticed a startlingly familiar face, whom he thought was his mother at first glance before realising that it was his younger sister, more grown up.
“Ráeru!” he called jubilantly as he made his way over, offering a gentle nose bump to her shoulder when he got near her “my beautiful sister” he proudly beamed.
on the day that you were born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true
She was out, beyond the confines of the World’s Edge. But it was hardly a prison; from the sky the earth was endless. And the prisons merely constructs of the emotional bars, preventing the girl from expanding new, inner truths that lay dormant and decaying inside of her.
Ru found escape and bliss in the heavens instead. The sun breaking through the heavy, pregnant clouds, sending reminders of Birdsong, the distant roar of Tallsun. With renewed vigor, she embraced the sky with abandon – forgetting, recapturing the swoons of wind brushing by. The endless, possible movements of one who sought to capture nothing – and experience it all.
The feathered youth dove from high places, and careened through the coolness that day. Eventually making her way towards the Thistle Meadows, by happenchance. Memories of dragons, long ago, pass her by as she lowered her elevation – and the flat lands once more, came into view. Except this time it was filled with bodies, so many, swarming about a great and giant turtle. Adorning a tree with trinkets and things – how strange.
Preferring to inhabit the air, she watched them as she circled. The turtle, obviously, contained some or all sorts of magics that appeared to have an effect on the surrounding land. She swore she could catch glimpses of equine along its shell, but their voices couldn’t quite reach her ears – nor the images reach her eyes, in an uninterrupted flow. Rather snap shots, unknown to the youth and swathed – furthermore – in mystery that made her heart throb with want. To know, to understand…
At last, as the turtle spoke with a voice so loud and rounded, with its deep hum, she settled at the gathering’s outskirts. Steadying herself, hovering and plopping her feet atop the earth. Her gaze rested on the tree, the turtle’s words settling, quiet and still in her mind.
Magic day…?
She wonders what she could possibly offer the mythical creature. Mind numb, slow, bewildered that they would be visited by such a massive creature on this wintery day. Ru had arrived into Helovia with nothing; she held nothing, then, besides the memories and experiences that made her. She wonders if the tree will think any less of her, should she not have the beautiful trinkets that each of these strangers are offering. It worries her, perhaps, for the girl wouldn’t mind something small in return.
With a wary sigh, she stretches out a wing – neck bending, lips snapping for one of her feathers. She’d only ever offered these to friends in the past, a piece of herself – a portion of her soul trapped, somewhere within their feathery folds. Tentatively she approaches, trying to avoid any stares or glances. Large, murmuring groups – a nuisance for the one who’d spent most of her life sequestered into the oblivion of the wilds. Or the silence offered in the recesses of her chosen herd lands.
Quickly she lodges the feather into a branch. And pulls away to settle herself along the group’s outskirts. Not thinking that the tree might hear her thoughts, let alone the magical turtle. She’d merely placed the feather in good faith. And waited, watching as the others entered.
It came every so often, this tree and the turtle. Mesec almost didn’t want to approach, hesitating back by another, simpler oak tree and watching as friends and strangers drifted forward and gave offerings to the turtle. Although he knew that this visit of the turtle would in no way be as disastrous as the last - how could it? - he felt uncomfortable all the same.
He had not yet forgotten how it felt to see Ampere with Gaucho and their children, a family so whole and perfect while he…
That had been the beginning of how everything had unravelled. The rest of that year had been torture for Mesec and Lucius both but there had been two bright spots in the end that made it impossible to regret what had happened that day.
If he hadn’t been slammed with the weight of reality, if he hadn’t shifted and attacked them, if he hadn’t kept himself isolated from everyone out of fear of hurting someone else - would he have met Ki’irha? Would he be a father now to the two most beautiful, incredible foals?
So that bitter memory changed, grew into something warm and his smile grew with it.
Shifting his stance, Mesec moved away from the tree - Lucius circling overhead and Lyra, curious as ever, was attempting to scramble up Mesec’s mane so that she could sit upon his head. He paused to give her more time without the shift of his movements, and finally the black kit was where she wanted to be - with her chest smushed up against his horn and her head turning in every direction.
A lot had changed, since the last time the earth turtle had arrived.
Mesec maneuvered into the crowd, spotting @Sacre who stood by a mare who looked an awful lot like Kou - enough that it made him start. He was not close enough to hear the greeting his brother gave the mare but he was curious all the same, moving toward them. Mesec whickered a warm hello to Sacre before stepping forward and turning to take something from his mane - a glowing, black fang. A gift from Aviya.
He hung it carefully on the tree - Lyra attempting to swat at it as he did so and nearly falling off of his head (only just managing to grab onto his mane and scramble up to safety once more).
Mesec the Nightwind
image by Inspiratori at deviantart.com
please tag Mesec in replies
non-life threatening force is allowed at all times
It would be difficult for the gilded mare to let her twins out of her sight, now that they were back. She wished that there hadn’t been as much time lost with her beloved son – a sparkling mirror image of their father – and the longer her gaze lingered on Kiada, the more she realized just how badly the girl had missed her other half. It made her feel terrible, of course, but many things did these days. She was still wide, albeit not by much, but her joints groaned with the effort of movement, but her willpower kept her going.
She, alongside the Elephant King, made their way to the gathering. Her gaze remaining on her children as they grew swept up in the crowd around the tree. She only heard the tail end of the events happening, allowing her mind to figure out just what this was about, as she watched Kianzo and Khairi hang some beloved items upon the tree themselves. Her oceanic gaze traveled to Tembovu with a gentle smile, wondering what he might think to put on the tree. At least she had some sort of idea what to put there. “Shall I go first?” She questioned with a teasing tone before immediately bounding toward the pine tree – noticing the trunk of it had vanished and it appeared as though it were floating.
Curiously, she peered at it briefly before looking over to Marembo who had trailed the children the closest who had left to return to her side. She lowered her head to allow him to climb up onto her, his little squeaks and spotted body making for quite the show for whoever watched. “Gift on tree?” He questioned to her, and she answered with a mental ‘yes’. Immediately, the polecat climbed toward her forehead, unhooking the three delicate golden chains that Tembovu had gifted her so many moons ago, and took a little piece of spotted fur from himself. His little paws worked with such dexterity that he was able to wrap the piece of fur around one of the ends before Rexanna lifted her head to a branch where the polecat hung the gilded chain upon. Then, as she lowered her head back down to return to her mate, Marembo squeaked to Mbwene, in the hopes that perhaps they could venture out and keep an eye on the twins together.
The blue jay barely seemed to venture far from the Throat these days. Everywhere else seemed to be far too cold and covered in ridiculous amounts of snow that it just didn’t prove to be fun anymore. And so, as he approached yet another gathering, his eyes seemed to travel the faces wondering if Kisamoa would be around once again – but to no avail, he didn’t see the creature made from the sea, and instead his gaze landed on what appeared to be a talking turtle. And then, with that information, he decided that this world of Helovia was indeed probably the strangest place he’d ever encounter.
But, it had proved to be quite entertaining as well.
He watched from a distance as creatures came to put items on the tree in the center, and he wondered deep down what kind of things he could put on the tree as well. Nothing really came to mind, aside from his sister and one of her feathers, and as he scanned the faces in the crowd once again he wasn’t able to locate the beautiful belle. So instead, he carefully stepped up alongside another pegasus who had done the same as he would, extending a wing and plucking one of the many navy blue ones, and placing it along one of the branches before offering the small girl a charming smile. Then, he inspected his work briefly before making his way back to the outskirts once again – continuing to watch what might occur.
"Talk."
We slipped into midnight
like the death of the sun.
The phoenix was always so much further ahead than the pegasus. Sometimes, it was frustrating, but at this point Darwin decided that he preferred the idea of getting an overview on the situations he would find himself in eventually. And so, as they walked toward the meadow, Antaa had flown off, aiming to get a good look at what all the movement was about. There were scents of life and gathering here, and Darwin wondered to himself as he walked in silence, if he’d find Elsa here among the crowd. However, as he approached and came to the outskirts of the group, his gaze lingered on faces here and there in a painful almost pitiful look as he came up empty.
Antaa didn’t help much as she chirped to him a sound of defeat – hoping that she could find Edgar as well and enjoy more time spent with the icy zephyr. But there was an event at hand, as the man noticed that people were placing items upon a tree. It was a curious thing, really, this celebration of magic day. But who was he to judge? He hadn’t gone to any other events in what seemed like many years in this land of unpracticality. So he stood, probably with a slightly confused look on his face as he tried to figure out what to put on the tree. He didn’t have his own metal necklace – he had gifted that to Elsa for her quest – but he did have Antaa.
And that was something, right?
His gaze lingered on the fiery bird as she swooped down into view, landing on the earth in front of him. She knew what he was thinking – but she had an even better part to put onto it. Gently, she pulled a scarlet feather from her wing and placed it delicately on the Earth. Then, she hopped up and hovered beside Darwin and his folded wings before snatching one of his own pristine ivory feathers. Then, using a small piece of grass she had found, she tied them together. “Us.” She cooed gently and Darwin offered her a gentle grin. “It’s beautiful, Antaa.” He answered her as she picked up the feathers and flew to the tree, dangling the feathers on a branch further up than where most the decorations were located.
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