the Rift


[OPEN] Can only make it grow [Clearing]

Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#1
Syrena
let the water take me
She comes here, because it is always where she comes. Today, she will not be standing with her feet halfway in the sea, but she owes it to the beach to start here. This place was home more than any other in Helovia. Yes, she lived in the Falls, but the sea was always her home, and here she could touch it. So she makes her way from where Kisamoa stands to the outskirts of the marshes, figuring someone might join her, but not really caring if they didn’t.

Eventually, she finds a good place to start. It almost shames her to realize how little attention she’d paid to this part of the beach. But she always went straight over the sands to the edge of the water. Had she ever really looked at what else was around her? But she’s looking now. The bones of creatures she didn’t recognize littered the ground, mixed with dead vegetation and fallen, rotten logs. The smell was terrible. For a moment, she almost leaves.

But she doesn’t. She tries to breath less through her nose though, thinking all the while that it was a shame her magic wouldn’t bring all the dead seaweed back to life. But she could only make it grow. So she trudges into the water, still cold though not unpleasant. Where the muck touches her skin, blues and greens and purples blossom on her skin. Syrena has no magic to help here, no wings or horns. Just her feet and her nose and her mouth and it all smells like hell so basically, feet. And shoulder, for the larger things.

She starts with the smaller things, collecting dead plants and seaweed and shoving them into a large pile, slowly clearing the water. And she finds bones, she begins to make a pile which she’d eventually figure out how to get back to Kisamoa. Probably a whole lot of trips wanting to gag with bones in her mouth. But for now, she doesn’t think about it, but just keeps piling them up. As the smaller objections are cleared away, she begins to turn her attention to the larger driftwood, using her shoulders to shove it too clear of the marshes.

Even with half of Helovia clearing all this crap away, this seemed like a hell of a task. It was going to take for damn ever.

"words"

darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart


Open to anyone who feels like joining her!

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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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Tarik Posts: 32
Dragon's Throat Stallion
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 :: 7 (immortal)
Odd
#2


"Is everyone around here always so eager to help those who ask for it?"

Tarik's voice rang out across the sands as he ambled unhurriedly towards Syrena. There was a spark of mischief in his sea-blue eyes, and easy smile on his lips. Perhaps that had to do with the sea-maiden, or perhaps it was simply because Tarik had already started drinking from his enchanted flask, and his body felt warm and loose as he walked across the sands. His accent was thick, northern-sounding, and rugged. There was intelligence there, but it wasn't always so easy to discern, especially with his flask constantly moving to and from his lips.

The viking man halted a few paces away, looking down at the pile Syrena had already formed. He whistled a low note as if he was impressed by her efforts, before drawing his laughter-filled gaze back up to her face. 

Tarik was not as of yet, anywhere near convinced that he ought to be helping. These weren't his lands - he'd just crash landed here and wasn't planning on staying. Once he and Ralik had found a new ship, they would be off. Though he had joined the Dragon's Throat, he'd offer no pledge of allegiance to them, or to anyone else. This was just a layover, and he'd nothing from this Kisamoa that had made him think otherwise.

Still, there was something in this mare ... something from the sea, and not just because scales adorned the lower parts of her body.



tarik
There's a feeling I get, when I look to the west, 
and my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen
rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who standing looking. 

Iona Posts: 100
World's Edge Specter atk: 7.5 | def: 11 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 11 (birdsong) HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Iver :: Osprey :: None Kiki
#3
I BOW MY HEAD TO THE SETTING SUN

“You’d be surprised,” the painted mare said, flatly, unceremoniously emerging from the treeline to step onto the shore. She’d seen how eager others were to obey the commands of the Gods. Iona didn’t fault them that. Well, she didn’t fault them out loud.  She did fault the blind devotion to them. She’d seen those who could be called Gods corrupted before. She’d seen them fall from their pedestals and wreak havok.  She wore the scars of said battles quite literally.  The very thought caused her to shift her large black wings - wings that had nearly been torn from her sides by one of the fallen. 

Iona was not one to operate on something as foolish as blind faith.  The painted pegasus was a pragmatist, above all else. However, she had a healthy dose of respect for magic and what it was capable of. So if an immensely powerful magical creature wanted a pile of bones, she’d produce said pile of bones and be on her merry way.  And, all things considered, she’d rather sort through bones and mud than whatever shitstorm was brewing back at home.  That was saying something. 

She wanted to be rid of responsibility and duty just for a few hours.  So this seemed perfectly fitting to her. She absentmindedly kicked a piece of bone nearby - something that appeared to be vertebra - nearer to Syrena’s already growing pile.  Iona walked past the stallion, who smelled of something she could not place and joined Syrena near the seashore.  Iona knew that using her wings to scoop out the dead seaweed and smaller pieces of bone would speed up the process, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  She took meticulous care of her wings and spent so much of her time in the skies, she was unwilling to compromise that if her feathers were covered in muck or broken by filth.  The salty air coming up from the cliffs at home was trouble enough with her feathers.

She watched as Syrena - who was beginning to turn colors where the water touched her skin - worked deftly to move driftwood out of the way.  After taking a moment to appreciate the other mare’s party trick, Iona pressed her shoulder against the next largest piece of driftwood and was satisfied when she felt it give way beneath her weight. She did her best to roll it onshore and tried not to grimace when it revealed a partial skeleton trapped beneath.  Instead of dealing with that she instead elected to deal with two larger bones in the curl of the sea, rolling them towards Syrena’s pile before looking back towards the stallion. 

“How’s that saying go...if you can’t bet em, join em?” She waited a beat before continuing, “Or are you afraid to get dirty?” she added, with a smirk. 

 I O N A
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@Syrena
@Tarik

COULDN'T RESIST SRY.

Please tag IONA in all posts.
Force and magic permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
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Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#4
Syrena
let the water take me
It isn’t long before a voice cuts into her peace. Not quite the ‘and quiet’ part of that, since there are others around working in small and large groups. But for a brief moment she was alone with her thoughts and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. But she is not surprised that another finds her. At least half of Helovia, maybe more, were out cleaning up the dead things for Kisamoa. Some grumbled about it, some proclaimed not to trust him, and yet here they were anyway.

His question almost makes her laugh, and not at it, but because it’s a rather valid question. Instead, she settles with turning her head to find the source of the voice. A stallion with dreadlocks and beads in his mane and tail. Okay then. Helovia never ceases to amaze her. There was a full on sea-horse running around, her, horses with wings in all thw wrong places, and many strange things. But he might take the cake. Maybe because he is otherwise so very normal.

He whistles like he’s impressed, though she doubts he is. It’s a tiny little pile really, because she’d be avoiding anything she couldn’t kick with her hoof. Sticking bones in her mouth was just highly unlikely. Before she has a chance to respond, another voice cuts in there, answering his question. Again, she turns to find the source of the sound. A black and white mare she does not know, but who comes to join them and throws herself to work. Acceptable.

The mare’s next words are all sass and for a brief moment, a flicker of a smile appears on Syrena’s lips. It feels strange there, and anyone looking would probably assume they just saw something. It comes and goes so quickly, the muscles too unpracticed to hold such a thing, the mare too stony on the outside. But it is there for a moment, and that is something. It’s quite a lot, actually. “Syrena,” she offers, largely to the mare who’s she decided she likes, but somewhat to the stallion as well.

Her next comments are directed toward him, however. She has not yet decided about him, but she doesn't dislike him. There's something in those sea blue eyes that makes her suspect she will, in fact, like him. Though that may only extend so far to a shared love for the sea, but she does not yet know this. “There are often rewards,” she says in that pretty yet deadpan voice, two things so very incongruous together. But that is her in a nutshell. She swirls a hoof through some particularly foul water, letter the dead plants gather on her now blue and purple leg before unceremoniously dumping them into the pile of dead things. “Greed is a powerful motivator.”

"words"

darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart


@Iona - you should never resist!
@Tarik

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Tarik Posts: 32
Dragon's Throat Stallion
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 :: 7 (immortal)
Odd
#5



It isn't long before the duo becomes a trio. With a look of one who could encounter a flying spaghetti monster and not be surprised (immortality will do that to you), Tarik's sea-blue stare finds Iona, and the edges of his lips twitch upwards in a smile at the flatness of her voice. There are often rewards, the former siren says. Greed is a powerful motivator. Tarik can't help but chuckle and agree. "A timeless truth, if ever there was one." He said, his words oddly poetic for one who looked (and smelled) as if he had slept on the seashore trying to ward off a hangover (not entirely untrue).

"Tarik." He returned, a sparkle of laughter and age glistening in his eyes.

The man took a breath as he watched the women get to work. He still didn't particularly want to go along with this gratuitous community service, but his bones ached for some sort of duty. Today, he already felt, would disagree with him should he waste it drunk on the beach. Grabbing a flash, ornately decorated and full of a sweet-smelling but dark liquid, the stallion raised it to his lips and took a long drink. As he lowered his muzzle, he sighed contentedly as he felt the rum swim through his immortal veins, invigorating him.

"Would either of you like a drink?" He offered, preferring the flask in their direction. "Something to loosen the joints?" Or anything else which might need loosening? His smile seemed to sea, as the oceanic man stepped forward.



tarik
There's a feeling I get, when I look to the west, 
and my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen
rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who standing looking. 

Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#6
Syrena
let the water take me
She doesn’t mind the smell of the seashore that lingers on him. The rest of the smell maybe, some it’s largely sea so it’s fine. The mare that joined them seems to remain silent as they work, which doesn’t really bother Syrena. She’s perfectly fine with the quiet, though she didn’t mind the company that had managed to find her. A sassy mare who hopefully wouldn’t give two shits about Syrena’s normally deadpan nature, and a stallion that reeked of the sea. There was worse company to keep.

The stallion introduces himself as Tarik. She nods, tucking that name into the ever-growing inventory of them. She kept forgetting names about as quickly as she tucked them away, pretending that she might actually remember all of them. If she remembered a third, that’d pretty much be a miracle.

She keeps working, plucking at dead things with her hoof and clearly not enjoying the work. But the water needs them, and she will work for that. She will earn her place among her siren sisters one day. The stallion seems even less inclined to get dirty, as the black mare put it. But whatever, she doesn’t really care. Well, sort of.

The growing pile of bones catches her attention just as the stallion takes a swing of something from the flask he carries. And then offers it to them. “Does that flask magically produce a way to carry these bones back?” she asks, assuming it doesn’t, but hoping he might jump in and find a way to get that back. Driftwood, maybe, if she can find a piece large enough. Because in truth, it was beginning to look reasonably clean in their area, but they needed to get the bones back.

“What’s even in that?” she asks, not saying no. Not that she’s letting anything get as loose as the stallion probably wants. But she might admit to be curious. She listens as she keeps working, clearing dead things and she scouts about for some driftwood, finally finding a suitably large piece. She kicks it back to the pile of bones in a terribly haphazard way, and then begins scooting the bones onto the wood.

"words"

darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart


@Tarik

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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Iona Posts: 100
World's Edge Specter atk: 7.5 | def: 11 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 11 (birdsong) HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Iver :: Osprey :: None Kiki
#7
I BOW MY HEAD TO THE SETTING SUN

Iona took a step back, examining their work for a moment before slogging her way out of the murky sea. The painted mare toes a particularly decrepit looking piece of driftwood onto the shore as she goes.  A dark ear flicks towards the mare-of-many-colors, who Iona has decided she likes, when she hears a name linger in the air.  She doesn’t offer her own name right away, as it’s evident that the mare has more to say.  Soon she finds herself nodding in agreement as the mare dumps truth upon the bones of the shore.  It seems that their disheveled companion had similar sentiments on the issue.

Greed.  Certainly a powerful motivator, and she’d seen its power in this land where so many were tempted with magic and trinkets.  She tries her best not to let the distaste to show on her features, but she doesn’t care much if it does.  Ironic to think that the lead thief of the Edge is one who detests something like greed.  But Iona isn’t one to hang on to her spoils for her own sake, though she knows that that doesn’t make her a noble thief either.  It all boils down to her inherent distrust of magic.  It always does, in this place.  “Hear, hear,” she adds, in agreement. 

Her eyes flicker between the two sea-loving creatures - Syrena, Tarik - names she files away into the deep abyss of her mind.  Finally, she offers her own.  “Iona,” she added, nonchalantly following their own introductions before her attention is drawn back to the pile of filth and bones. 

”Tarik, I’m going to have to take you up on that drink if we’re going to carry all of that.” she muttered, with obvious distaste, as a frown tugged at her dark lips.

 I O N A
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@Syrena
@Tarik

THE POOPIEST OF POSTS.

Please tag IONA in all posts.
Force and magic permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
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Tarik Posts: 32
Dragon's Throat Stallion
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 :: 7 (immortal)
Odd
#8



Tarik decides that he likes these women. They are to the point and though they've offered their names, they haven't offered him a bunch of useless information that he doesn't care to know. You might think that he's just being a man, and that men are simply not good listeners. Not good conversationalists. But that simply isn't the case. It's just that, from being immortal, Tarik has heard it all before. There is nothing that surprises him any longer; no assortment of life-stories that adds anything new to his understanding of the world.

So the fact that these two seem content with merely getting on with things, is something he finds very appealing.

"In a way." He replied to Syrena with a lopsided smile. "If you drink enough, you might wake up and realized that you've managed to move everything and not even remembering it happening." His smile grew, and then disappeared as he shook his bearded skull. "But no, the magic of this flask does not extend to chores given out by sea-creatures." He replied less evasively.

"It is rum, of the finest vintage." Tarik replied proudly, taking another drink before once again offering it to the two. "A little won't hurt, and might even make this labour slightly more enjoyable, for I see no other way of completing this task other than with the strength of our backs."


tarik
There's a feeling I get, when I look to the west, 
and my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen
rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who standing looking. 

Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
#9
Syrena
let the water take me
She certainly isn’t one to assume that being a man is what makes anyone a bad conversationalist. Have you met her? She’s a terrible conversationalist. Helovia has forced her to learn, and she’s far better than she was a few years ago. Even a year ago, really. She remembers all too well standing on the beach scaring the hell out of a stallion that supposedly also lives in the Falls, telling him of sea monsters and how she used to be one. That story never went over well, and she’s stopped talking of sirens. Mostly.

In truth, she doesn’t talk of anything that she doesn’t have to. They talk of dead things and bones and drinking, which to both Iona and Tarik’s points, might be the only way to make this entire task bearable. If she could actually control the water plants, and not just make them grow, she could wander down the streams and rivers letting the plants pass the bones for them. But she can’t. She can just make a whole lot of really long seaweed. Which did them no good, because that would probably die too and then they’d have to clean it up.

The black mare introduces herself as Iona, and again, Syrena tucks that name away in a place where she may or may not recall it later. Nothing personal, but after all, she forgot the name of her own Czarina. To Syrena’s tiny bit of credit, it had been quite some time since she’d seen the mare, who’d also been invaded while ruling the herd. So, there was that. She did know the names of her two current monarchs at least.

She likes Tarik’s answers, the roundabout one and the straightforward one, appreciating the humor even if she doesn’t laugh or quirk a smile. But she glances over at him, which is about as much acknowledgment of the humor that he’s likely to get. Her ocean eyes sparkles a bit though, like the sun hitting the water. When he offers the flask again, she takes it, taking a swig of the stuff that burns like hell on the way down.

After a moment though, in which she is oh-so-thankful that she wears a stone mask for a face, because the fire-burn in her throat doesn’t reach her expression, the fire turns to a warmth that simply spreads through her limbs. A feeling she both loves and hates all at once. But maybe, she could get used to it. There’s something pleasant about it, and she revels for a moment in feeling good, debating another swig. “Here’s to our backs,” she says, handing the flask back and curious if Iona will in fact drink as well.

Then she turns back to the pile of bones and stares for a moment. She couldn’t very well kick it back to Kisamoa. “Maybe we can float it back?” Maybe the streams and rivers would connect enough they could avoid too much kicking across the land.

"words"

darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart


@Tarik @Iona

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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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Iona Posts: 100
World's Edge Specter atk: 7.5 | def: 11 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 11 (birdsong) HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Iver :: Osprey :: None Kiki
#10
I BOW MY HEAD TO THE SETTING SUN

The painted mare wasn’t pleased with their current predicament, but at least the company was good. She didn’t even know why they had to go pick up bones in the first place, but the prospect of just being busy had been encouragement enough.  She hadn’t really given much thought of how to see the task through. Part of her regretted that - not having the foresight to plan.  The other part didn’t have a single fuck to give. 

So instead - she drank. She took the offered flask from Tarik with a thankful nod and appreciated the welcome burn of the liquid as it burned all the way to her stomach.  It wasn’t something she was at all accustomed to, but she could certainly get used to the comforting burn of the alcohol.  She nodded appreciatively to Tarik when she returned the flask to him. “Not bad,” she offered, with a wink.  

But again, her eye was drawn back to the troublesome pile of bones and filth that lingered on the shore. As much as Iona loathed magic, she could appreciate that having something to create a net would be much appreciated in this particular instance.  At this point, just drinking until she couldn’t feel her own bones seemed much more enticing than carting this bunch around like a mule.  “I’m all for floating them as far as we can. Maybe we can drag them the rest of the way if we find a few big palms we can put all this sh---, uh, stuff on.”  She catches herself, but is unapologetic.  Her self-censorship is the best she can do in the way of manners.

 I O N A
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@Syrena 
@Tarik

Please tag IONA in all posts.
Force and magic permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
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