the Rift


[RANDOM EVENT] A flash and then nothing

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#1
"So it has come." The God sighed wearily, bracing himself against the time winds for the battle brewing on the horizon.

"Be well, all of you." The God of the Sparks voice crackled out through the Aurora Basin. Taking a deep breath, the God winked out in a small shower of sparks, muttering one word under his breath: "Fuck"

Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Astor
#2
for there are many ways to kill a man they say
Be well, all of you…

Jerking her head up, Wessex turns her head to the cold, clear sky and in her next breath, waits for more. But there is none, no forthcoming explanation for the ominous words, or the shower of sparks that lit of the darkness like a meteor shower. Just a cold, wintry wind and the uneasy feeling that that was the chosen farewell from their normally terse God. It seemed a blessing, compared to the usual ‘Don’t fuck up’ message.

A blessing, a wish – no, that cannot be a good sign.

Gritting her teeth, Wessex glances towards the dark mirror and then back towards the cave opening. Her gut tells there would be no answers in its silver depths tonight. Better to seek the rest of the herd. Erebos. She needs Erebos. And Rikyn.

Goddamnit, fucking hell! The world must be coming to an end if she thinks they might need each other.

I am Iron and I Forge Myself
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#3
Erebos
The nightmares reigned; slow, cumbersome, overbearing weights pressing behind his eyelids, through his skull, rotating, circulating, beating, beating, beating in vivid throngs and savage slashes. They were inescapable, blinding streaks of wrath and contempt, disgust and loathing, then treachery, always treachery, the slice of a knife, the keen, harking wail of his flock falling down, collapsing in on themselves, led into battle then slaughtered. No matter what he did, no matter how loudly he screamed, how hard he pressed into those brutal, sadistic schemes his mind concocted during the witching hours, naught could be done. He was only a witness, a watcher, a bystander, as they fell apart – just as he’d been for so long, entrenched and embedded into the earth, into the soil, flickering at the seams, unraveling, uncoiling, until he was nothing like he used to be. The brightness was gone and replaced with anguish, and when he finally stopped hissing in his slumber, when his eyes opened and he only saw the darkness of the cave, the silent, sentinel appearance of Orsino, the careful approach of Enyo, his heart cracked a little more.
 
Everything seemed ominous and wretched, a slate of foreboding dragging across his surface, poised along each and every muscle, reaching, grasping, clenching for answers, truths, declarations, when he had nothing else to offer. He stared out into the void and the void only stared back, endless and uncertain, perilous and inescapable, and he didn’t open his mouth to declare his wishes, his ambitions, or his dreams. He didn’t glance anywhere but the Stygian aperture, blue eyes yearning (for what, he almost asked himself, when everything seemed so decrepit, so withered, so decayed down to his very bones), catching the crackling of a booming voice, the shattering of sparks, the surrounding stars seemingly burning out.
 
His eyes narrowed and speculation ran rampant; the pounding ache in his cranium pervaded amidst Machiavellian schemes and desperate measures, rising from his curled position and glaring back into the heavens for another sign, for another signal. Only echoes resounded and remained, and he stood there amidst the pillars of confusion, upheaval, and apprehension, wondering if the world was truly going to crumble around him and he’d finally be swallowed whole. Enyo clicked her beak in disregard, shaking her head, while Orsino’s brow only rose the tiniest fragment, inclining his fox eyes towards the Haruspex’s cave, far wiser than anyone else in the midst of the three. Perhaps Wessex would know, would comprehend, would have been given information from the Time God himself, granted wisdom and sagacity from the curt, brief, and rash tones. No more, he almost begged as they crossed from cavern to pathways, chasing after one more unblemished hope. Please, no more.
 
“Wessex?” The General bent his head towards the entrance, nares widening, presuming she was there in the shadows, but not daring to go in, swallowing down the potential to ruin something else. “Do you know what’s going on?” His head, once so noble, so silly, so hellbent on mischief instead of sorrow, glanced towards the sky again, then back to the pressing darkness.


I'LL SHOW YOU HOW GOD | FALLS ASLEEP ON THE JOB
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@Wessex

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#4
Ravens caws above her, unsettled, flying about the Basin like he cannot bring himself to sit still. She lets him go, keeping a hold on their bond to make sure she is alright, but she’s not sure why he’s so anxious. There is something though, something wrong, something heavy in the air like…ah. The voice cracks across the Basin like lightning, but without the usual storm. She knows their God’s voice well, but there is something wrong in it now too, or so it seems. Raven comes back, cawing again, something silver and sharp dangling from a chain in his beak. “What did you find?” He doesn’t answer, of course, but flies down toward her, helping her pull the chain over her neck. The pendant is long and black, the end almost deadly sharp.

She grins at her companion, pleased with the gift through curious where he might have found such a thing. It’s something that deserves some thought, but she doesn’t have time to really think about it. Maybe the world really is ending and the Gods are just reigning weapons down on them in preparation. Little does she know how impressive of a weapon it is, but she doesn’t stop to examine the necklace more. Instead, she sets off, trying to find the others. Now is not the time to stand around alone, though she’s tempted to fly off and see if she can figure out just what is going on.

Instead, she finds Wessex and Erebos, their Haurspex and General. Though were they now? Was there a herd left to protect, a god left to speak to, or were they on their own now? Somehow, it felt like the latter might be true. Weaver has only truly followed Death as her God – she bears his rune on her chest, after all. Still, she didn’t quite understand how Sparky could just desert them, how Earthy had done it to his herd. Some Gods. Erebos is speaking into the cave, calling for the only horse around that might have more of a clue than they do. Weaver joins them, her cape askew, trailing on the ground off her right side. Raven caws again from the sky, unable to still himself, and she’s starting to worry. He is never like this.

“Kaos?” she asks, half a question, half a statement. It must have something to do with him, there is no other option – but what, exactly, did it all mean? She stops beside Erebos, his eyes to the sky like their Gods might answer. Maybe their Gods didn’t even know. She would pray to Death, but he would not answer. He wasn’t that type of god, though she suspects they may see him soon.

- weaver -

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Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#5

It’s hard to say just how loss affects me, anymore. Sometimes I don’t feel anything, other times it hurts like first time, and, sometimes, like now, I just get overwhelmingly frustrated with everything.

What does he mean be well? Don’t get exploded? It’s only a God four Gods can’t beat… I grumpily demand of Duir, making my way towards the small cluster of my herd mates already gathering, tail lashing irritably behind me, and ears partially flattened. My companion makes his way warily along behind me, his ears partway back in healthy fear of my current mood. Not sure how to respond to me, he instead opts in for silence, which, to be fair, is probably the best route…

Still, it’s annoying.

"Obviously," I flatly remark to Weaver’s somewhat rhetorical answer, the misplaced hostility more intended for Duir, than her. Whatever Lordly regalia I’d been pretending to wear has hence forth and forever more been cast away in the dirt. I’m not going to butter up my words for the sake of this place anymore; just look at what it’s doing to my best friend, what it’s done to me. For fucks sake, it made my mother. My tense tone softens when I look over at Erebos, his questioning eyes making me want to smack him about the head, because, surely, he knows, the same as I do. "He’s never left since he gave our parents this place, as far as I know."

Running my tongue over my teeth with a frustrated sigh, I don’t look to the sky for help from the Gods (clearly useless); instead, I cast my eyes to the ground, and feel my hooves seem to root down into it, though I don’t move. Looking back up with a stern expression, I try to come up with a plan.

"Get everyone together, okay? If this is going to happen, our best chance is to face it as a group. When we fought the Rift Gods, many died, including Gods. And this just feels like bad news. You all saw that… thing Kaos made," my ears fall back, and my heart hollows out, as I think of what comes next, in my quickly contrived plan, "we all heard what the Time God said just now. I think it would be wise if we also considered being ready to evacuate this land, and quickly."

I’d been in a war party, once, as a young man, and had seen how quickly a society can become another, by rite of blood and clamorous noise. It did not have to be a world you wanted. It just was, and I’d be damned if I dwelled in any place that felt more like a prison than a home.




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Glacia Posts: 111
Aurora Basin Medic atk: 4.0 | def: 8.0 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 Years HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Name :: Snowy Owl :: None Nessie
#6
Glacia

The crackling of magic and a voice woke me. I could feel something wrong. Everything was wrong in fact. In some way, you could feel the magic of the Time God here, but now I felt nothing. I shake my head, but it doesn't take long to clear it. I look back at Gwyn, muttering a quick order to stay put, and then I left the cave in a rush. My leg stretch out into a gallop, headed for the place where someone might actually have the answers, the haruspex's cave.

I slow as I reach the cave, making my way inside. Upon hearing voices I slow even more, to a halt. I couldn't see anyone just yet, but I knew two of the voices. I listened, so that maybe I could discern what was happening. Rikyn's voice caught my attention. Gather everyone. Thats when I knew I had to leave. I would come back, I always did, but I needed to go before I was forced to stay. Quietly I retreat, and make my way back to get Gwyn. Before everything ended.
"Talk."

For plots sake, Glacia is peacing out of the Basin with Gwyn to find Mauja. She will return and probably have a freakintfout Rikyn. Also, if Duir wants to see her leave, thats fine :D

image | bckg

Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Astor
#7
for there are many ways to kill a man they say
It doesn’t take long for them to show, a common thought of ‘wtf mate?’ linking everyone who seems to take an active role in the herd; if Wessex had a moment to think about it, she might be proud that they all gather at her cave, but time for such things was fleeting and now is a luxury she may no longer indulge in. With one hoof already inclined towards the cave entrance as she dons her leather armor, it only takes the Haruspex a moment before she appears out of the shadows, a straight-lipped, grim look about her. “Erebos,” she says in greeting, after tightening a leather strap.

Perhaps in the dim light he cannot see her jaw clenching, her air of resignation that simply says shit is about to go down. No, she’ll play the part for him, because she’d do anything for him, even if he doesn’t know it yet. And if Erebos needs her to pretend to be wiser than she is, then damnit, she will without hesitation. “The Mirror is empty. Dark. I may not have been here as long as you have, but something tells me that if the big guy is wishing us well instead of warning us not to fuck up, we’re probably on course for something big and bad.” Others have joined them, and so she moves to the mouth of the cave, spikes lashing in a wide arc behind her.

Weaver, Rikyn - both come with the same assumption, and Wessex cannot help but agree. Which means that this is war, and all petty differences must be pushed aside. Let the Lord take the lead, let the General, and she can take care of the rear. “Send the companions - and we should gather useful items, just in case,” she suggests, knowing that Raven and Duir and Orsino are familiar faces, and that if everyone carries a little something with them, be it weapon or blanket or freaking herbs, they might be a little better prepared for what’s to come. “Now isn’t the time for stories, but what kind of shit did you face with the Rift Gods?” And then, after a cursory glimpse around the area, a query that she tries to keep nonchalant. “And has anyone seen Tiamat?”

I am Iron and I Forge Myself


Idk what this is but hiiii frans
@Erebos  
@Rikyn  
@Weaver  
@Tiamat
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#8
Erebos
The prince had always been good at pretending, at putting on masks, at charades, at facades, at holding pretenses for hours on end to appease the masses, to trick himself, to yield into a more satisfactory outcome, to veil and shroud the incoming upheaval. He’d endured, he’d persevered, and he’d flickered apart too, because Helovia was never a stagnant, dreamy world where roses ran rampant and demons never tread – he’d seen them first hand, and it was only the beginning of the end now. Eventually, they’d be consumed, and he could feel it, he could sense it, he could glance at everyone else as they shared the same roughened sentiment, the same bleak outlook, and he still harpooned against it. He’d grown up twisting and turning away from truths, from realities, preferring chaos, rebellion, and revolution, but not when it came at the cost of themselves. Everything was maddening, tangled, knotted, gnarled, twisting back upon them with naught in return – the Time God split, vanished, gone into the midst, granting naught, no advice, no counsel, no guidance (what did you expect? Orsino hissed, and the General didn’t have an answer). Too many things went on at once, and he wondered if this was how his father must have felt back in the days of wraiths and disease, where friends became enemies, where companions became monsters, and there’d been nothing else to do but flee. Their ancestors had the caves, dormant and safe, a sanctuary from the incoming fiends and heathens. Where was the escape now? Where were they supposed to go? Were they meant to abandon everything – the mountains, the landscape, the summits, all the layers and power and dominance they’d built up? The boy wanted to scream, wanted to stomp, wanted to shout back at the heavens for something other than good luck and feral fortune, but he just listened instead, grating his teeth, locking his jaw, becoming enraged and despondent all at the same time, irked, irritated, annoyed, anguished by how methods and measures and determination hadn’t mattered. Nothing had.
 
He yearned to fight against Kaos, against the loss of hope, against the unwinding truth spiraling out around him, but it kept hitting him in the face, smacking against his chest, clattering along the stonewalls of his heart. “We can gather them right in front of the borders,” he answered instead, trying not to spew out venom, trying not to focus on the what ifs, the parallels of bedlam curling and coiling around them, bending over their necks like nooses, his nightmares born, tangible, clear, and monstrous. Erebos’ gaze centered on Orsino for a moment, on sending him out into the beyond to find anyone and everyone who hadn’t heard the signal, who hadn’t understood or known the world was about to end, but then was distracted by Wessex, who’d never seen the Gods (once fallen, he almost said, because they’d been dead before, but risen again thereafter). “We faced disease and monsters.” And we fought anyway, echoed through his soul; they’d fought and fought and torn the beasts apart (but it didn’t matter, because it’d all been a farce, just a cruel, ridiculous farce). “We believed them conquered and dead. You’ve seen what became of them.” Abominations, features decrepit and disfigured, morphed back into an unholy beast, incapable of defeat by their mortal instruments. Then, to her silent question, he didn’t know – he hadn’t seen the sea lady, their ocean Queen, and his brows furrowed while his shoulders shrugged, gaze focusing on Weaver, on Rikyn, in hopes that they’d witnessed her recently, and she wasn’t one more lost to the perils of their earth.


I'LL SHOW YOU HOW GOD | FALLS ASLEEP ON THE JOB
Image Credits
@Weaver

Tiamat the Ocean's Light Posts: 360
Aurora Basin Lady atk: 8 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: 6 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Nimue :: Common Orca Leviathan :: Boil Reli
#9
the Ocean’s Light
“So it has come.”

The voice of their patron god continues to echo through every dark corner of the blue Lady’s mind, even if he has fallen silent many moments ago—she can still hear him, clearly and hauntingly, even if she wishes with the entirety of her delicate heart that she couldn’t.

“Be well, all of you.”

Such thoughtful words, unassuming words, like a well-wisher’s blessing of good grace and health. It is wrong how they send an icy chill down the ocean maiden’s spine, and wrong how they provoke exactly the opposite of their face-value blessing within her fragile breast—instead she is plagued with a sense of doom and goodbyes, of the end rather than the promise of days to come.

What is happening? Her heart cries, though her naive mind recoils from the answer, too content in the bliss of ignorance, and terrified to face the black, writhing shadows of reality. (Because, surely, this can’t be happening!)

It just can’t.

Her cheeks are wet from tears she doesn’t realize have fallen, her are eyes wide and frozen, and every breath seems more difficult than the last as she fights whatever it is that has an iron hold on her chest. The Lady’s movements are wooden, broken like the earth beneath her feet. “Did you hear him?” She asks them dumbly, knowing that they have—they all have—and now they only have themselves and their dying world.

“He’s gone,” she murmurs, unable to believe the words even as they fall gracelessly from her lips.

He will come back, she wants to tell them.
It’ll all be okay, she wants to promise them.
Kaos cannot win, she wants to assure herself.
This is not the end, she wants to believe.

But she can’t.

“He’s gone,” is all she can say, brokenly, defeatedly, while her glass heart crumbles into pieces.


“Speech.”
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
there’s a land that I heard of once
in a lullaby.
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#10
She flattens her ears at Rikyn’s flat words, rolling her eyes though she bites her tongue. Now is not the time for pointless bickering, though she would like to have some pointless bickering over how worthless saying “obviously” was – aka just as much as her half-question. She doesn’t, instead letting herself be additionally annoyed when Wessex offers up Raven to gather horses. The last place she wants her still very young companion is running around while a bunch of Gods have a magic pissing match somewhere.  Though again, she bites her tongue, face returning to her usual impassive mask though lacking it’s typical mischievous look. This is no time for being her usual self, really.

“Earthy started a trend,” she mutters as Raven takes off to find the others. He’s so restless he might have gone even with her prodding, though she can hear him cawing as he goes. This time, he’s trying to call attention, trying to make sure the herd hears him and follows to the meeting spot. She’s already carrying all the things she owns, which isn’t much, but it’s enough. The cape in particular might come in handy, though she doesn’t want to wear it into battle. She might have to give it to someone to carry, but for now, she reaches around to pull it on her back again. “I can hit the greenhouse, and I swear I’ll grab things other than the fun stuff.”

Of all the places she can go, why dose she pick there? Mortuus comes to mind, and she hopes he’ll be there if Raven hasn’t already found him. If not, she can check his cave, make sure he knows just what the hell is happening. She doesn’t quite yet though, making sure there’s nothing else that needs doing before she does. Tia joins them, but their Lady is in shock, and it’s rather clear the mare is not a warrior right now. “We’re bigger and badder than one God, or fuck, four of them. We'll survive, and we’ll make it right again.” Somehow, whatever right would be in their unknown future (how useful her old burning tree of futures would be right about now). All she could see was the obvious, that they just had to survive whatever was to come.

- weaver -

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Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Astor
#11
for there are many ways to kill a man they say
There are logical reasons to do things, and then there are catalysts. And for the record, Wessex isn’t the kind to just go into a rage like this, but godfuckingdamnit, those tears in Tiamat’s eyes just makes her lose her shit.

How dare the God of Time make her cry. How DARE he.

All action and plans a moment ago, Wessex stands dumbly at the arrival of their Lady (is she, now? There is nothing tough about her, and this is a time for mental and physical fortitude), watching as she moves out of necessity, and without much purpose. She hears the cracks in Tia’s voice, the tears that wet her cheek, and remember the last time she’d seen the woman like this. Only last time, Wessex was able to save her. This time, she isn’t so sure – because what can she possibly do, in the face of an absent God? It sets something afire in the horned woman, something far more volcanic than the initial calmness. Everything quickly ignites while her nostrils flare and jaw clenches and Aside from Weaver’s assertion that they are bigger and badder than a single (or better yet, four) God, there is silence in the devastated woman’s wake.

The smoke is practically curling out of her nose as she turns and heads back into the cave without a word to the rest of them. They might be able to see her, they might not be able to, but quite frankly she doesn’t care. The sounds of her hooves fade, there is silence, and then the sound of a violent crash and glass falling to the stone floor. It’s all terribly dramatic and out of place for Wessex, even more so as a large shard comes skittering out towards the group, hopefully to stop in Tia’s vicinity.Now he’s gone,” she says quietly, darkly. That seed of something which remained when Erebos first hit her with his magic seems to have taken root, and something in her delights in the rebellious, defiant, sacrilegious nature of her actions. “Abandonment is not something to cry over. Weaver is right.”

No one, neither God nor mortal, makes her Ocean Lady cry like that and gets away with it.

She'll keep a piece of the mirror as a reminder or memory, or what have you. But there's no going back now. "Shall we?" she asks the group. There is nothing left for them in that cave. Time to move on.
I am Iron and I Forge Myself



WESSEX SMASH
@Tiamat  
@Rikyn
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#12

Duir goes without complaint at Wessex’s suggestion, making his way towards the crafting caves at a swift, head bobbing walk. I watch him, because it’s something to look at other than Weaver’s useless scowl, or Erebos’ depressingly dark eyes. The request for stories of the first Rift battles draws an ear, but not my gaze at first.

It’s the second question that does, a dryness netted to my tone that implies just how thick the walls I’ve thrown up for the time are. I won’t allow myself to become emotional. Nothing ever goes well, when I do.

"Likely weeping somewhere," I say, almost in time with her appearance, stricken with tears. Looking at her with a gentle nudge of my horn, as if to say, see, I follow it with my eyes, which are soft at the sight of her pain. I had not expected her to come, as much as I had expected this: she was gentle, Tiamat, gentler than I had ever been, even as a boy. Never in my life had I met a single soul who was a set upon the path of the Light and Just, and it left her hopelessly adrift in a dark sea, such as this.

Wessex takes more action than I do; the sound of the mirror breaking in the cavern meets my ears and shoots through to my heart like a knife, but I swallow down the sound of pain that wants to rise to my lips, instead clenching my eyes shut, and bowing my head to it all. Tiamat’s crying, Weaver’s nonchalance, unaware of the danger impending, Erebos’ strange calmness; the fragments sliding across the stone, and Wessex’s hateful answer to the problem (abandonment is nothing to cry over, bitterly says one who has never been abandoned). I don’t want to hear any of it, not anymore.

The abysmal well looms dark, darker than I remember leaving it: suddenly there again, right beneath me, all my flimsy covers cast off by the cold wind that blows hard through my heart. When I open my eyes, I’m falling. I don’t even reach for the sides anymore. I barely look up for the light at the top.

Abandonment: it rings through my head.

"Come, Lady Tiamat," I ask her, softly, turning lifeless eyes in her direction, gently touching her face and then her neck, as she has done for me, before, hoping it fills her with the sense of belonging it had me, that it does not hurt as it had for me, too. Not sure why I’m being so gentle, I reason that its just easier to deal with someone else’s feelings than my own, and only one of us here is visibly distraught… not to say Erebos’ still face impends good things, either, but still. As a man, I’d be embarrassed to be coddled by anyone in front my peers. "You can cry all the tears you must, but we must also be ready, to prevent the worst. We have each other, still. This is only a place."

I tell her, feeling the words crush me, looking around me at my home, my birth land, with an inner rage beginning to broil in the desolation yawning within me. This is bullshit! I think to myself, turning away towards the crafting caves, to hide my sudden emotional fluctuation, ashamed that I’m not strong enough to be like Deimos, father, or even mother.

"Duir’s at the crafting caves. I’m going to go meet him," I tell them, and prowl away.





Art by Esa82@DA

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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Tiamat the Ocean's Light Posts: 360
Aurora Basin Lady atk: 8 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: 6 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Nimue :: Common Orca Leviathan :: Boil Reli
#13
the Ocean’s Light
She’s a hopeless mess; her entire world (both literally and figuratively) is crumbling to pieces, haunted by a monster and its choking darkness, and she can do nothing to stop it. Never before has she felt this utterly helpless. Only in nightmares has she ever been preyed upon by her incapacity to do anything—left to only stand and watch while the world around her falls to pieces. Now it is their reality. Every breath is a struggle against the tightness in her chest, every beat of her heart is painful, and she feels weak as her muscles tremble beneath her satin skin.

The ocean mare doesn’t notice Wessex’s absence at first. Comforted by the Puppeteer’s gentle embrace, she leans into him, weeping quietly into the curve of his neck. He is stronger than her, especially at a time like this, when her fragile mind can hardly comprehend this abominable disaster as real life, and she calls upon him now for relief (for sanity).

Suddenly there is the shrill shattering of glass, startling the Ocean’s Light as she turns her watery eyes behind her. There lies a large shard of reflective glass, a piece of the Mirror of the Haruspex. The blue Lady moves (her legs carrying her woodenly to the object, her head lowering haltingly to gaze into its surface). And it is empty. All at once, she is overwhelmed—by the fact that their god, with no amount of warning, has left them to fend for themselves, by the despair of her own weakness, and frustration at the injustice of it all—in that single fragment, she sees all of it.

Sapphire lips part in a cry of misery and anger and grief, her head thrown to the sky while a cloven hoof lashes out. The glass abruptly shatters across the stones and grass, shattering like their world, their lives.

“If being forsaken is not enough to warrant tears, then what is?” Tiamat cries brokenly, blinking away fresh moisture that blurs her vision. Pearly eyes are cast briefly to Wessex, brimming with sorrow, and pleading silently for her not to answer.

Sniffing uselessly, her attention falls back to the shards at her feet. As much as she wants to blame the Time God for all of his mistakes, for his abandonment, she knows that he (along with the other gods) intends to protect the whole of Helovia, no matter where borders lie. She has to believe that. Carefully, she picks up a small piece of the Haruspex Mirror with her lips, and tucks it into her scarf for safekeeping. “This is home,” she whispers hoarsely, glancing around at their mountain valley, at the only place in the world that has ever rivaled the sea for her heart.

Eventually she turns her eyes slowly to Rikyn. “But you are right—you all are right. We need to protect our people; I will not allow a monster to tear apart what we have worked so hard for. We have built more than a herd—we are a family,” Tiamat tries to piece together a smile, tries to remind herself of what she has always known, “We have each other.” Still, her voice breaks, and as the others fall away to their duties, Tiamat turns to Wessex. Leaning against the larger mare, she buries her face in her neck, breathing in the warrior’s presence because it has always meant safety. “We need to stick together,” Tiamat whimpers against her skin.


“Speech.”
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
there’s a land that I heard of once
in a lullaby.
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Astor
#14
for there are many ways to kill a man they say
Perhaps the former Haruspex had done the deed for shock value, anger directed towards pulling something out of the assembled leaders of the Basin, even when Tiamat mourns enough for all of them - the only one comfortable enough in vulnerability to say what they’re all thinking. She’s a beautiful tidal wave, Wessex thinks, watching the tears flow from her eyes, passion and misery wiping away everything before her, until she retreats once again into a calmer state of mind. The mottled woman keeps her mouth shut, following the ebb and flow with eyes that want to apologize for inciting anything at all, but the walls forbid it. So instead, she watches silently, lips turned down into what can only be described as her version of sadness.

Whether or not they’re all swept along with Tiamat’s emotions, she doesn’t know, but the stoic woman is glad when their audience begins to break up. Her gaze linger on the shards of the Mirror, broken even further by her Lady’s hooves. She should keep something of it, if only to remind herself of what she accomplished here - on the off chance that whatever is coming doesn’t kill them all. It’s a fear she dare not voice, dare not give it reality and power.

And then it’s just the two of them, the way it was when she first came to Helovia, only this time they may be leaving it, and all she wants to do is curl herself around the blue maiden and make everything go away. Instead, she manages to swallow the frog in her throat to ask quietly, “Where’s Nimue, Tia?” Because they have to keep doing productive things, they can’t stop and let it all soak in - that’s when the emotions come. In the dead of night, when all anger is exhausted and all that’s left is her mind with the realities racing by - that’s when the emotions come too fast and too fierce and leave a puddle behind. Not quite like the puddle that is Wessex when the Ocean’s Light presses her dainty head into the thick arch of the warrior’s neck.

That puddle is much different.

We need to stick together, the woman breathes into her skin, and it feels like that small patch is on fire - not with sexual desire - but with an unbridled need to make whatever this darling woman wants, come true. Yes, yes! her mind screams, of course, of course we’ll all stick together. But Tiamat doesn’t know the reality of battle, the way the chaos surges and your focus narrows down to concentric circles of attention, how everything can be lost until all of a sudden, there’s no one left to fight. Wessex’s breath catches in her throat as she tries to form a reply, stuck on wishing for wings in which to engulf Tia, something more soft for her to rest her head upon, than the rock-hard muscles of her shoulders and the spikes which sprout from her various ends. It seems like forever before she is able to reach out and run her nose down the blue’s neck in a comforting manner, soothing her whimpers and petting her softly until she can form some appropriate words.

“Don’t worry, love,” comes thickly, gruffly even, as if she were trying to mask the emotion in a deeper, reassuring voice. “If I have to herd us all like cats, I will. Even Beloved.” It’s supposed to be funny, but maybe given the circumstances… it isn’t. A deep breath. “You know I’ll always be… with you. At your side. Protecting you… if you need it, I mean. I will always keep you safe.” Fuck, she’s messing this up. “And the Basiners, too, of course. But you, especially.” And then there is silence, because she can’t bring herself to say what the air already knows. Not when she knows it isn’t reciprocated that way.

You needn’t worry, because I love you. Because I would die for you.

I am Iron and I Forge Myself


@Tiamat  
Gahhhhhhh someone just put her out of her misery XD
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

Mortuus Nox Posts: 187
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 3.5 | def: 10 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: Immortal HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Dressy
#15
Mortuus Nox
Your fears have just become all too real, for the Devil at the cross road wants to make a Deal
His heavy breath took a sigh. He knew this day would come, but he was not sure when. Cold gray eyes looked to the world outside of his cave. Sparks flew through the sky as the God finished speaking. Well fuck. The Time Mender grabbed his wolf pelt and slid down the mountain side. Heavy demonic horns looked for others, but they were not easy to find. Cracked hooves walked steadily through the frozen land. He did not let an ounce of panic fall upon his face. Heavy black muscles shifted under the wolf pelt. Looking to the sky he smiled seeing a familiar form. The small bird flew through the air and Nox watched knowing that Weaver had to be close.  Finally, he could see figures standing together. The general, Lady, Lord, a woman he did not know too well, and Weaver all stood together. Gray cold eyes fell upon the blue lady, then shifted to the beautiful painted woman. Finally, the beast came to a halt next to Weaver. He just caught the end of the conversation.

"There are some things in the healer cave that I can grab as well. I can go with Weaver. The buddy system is always best in these kinds of times"" Worried orbs shifted to each of them standing there. Sighing, the beast caught a little of what the horned mare was saying. He wanted to question it but now was not the time. He also cared for Tiamat, but the beast knew it was more of a friendship. "Let's get going dear."" His words were encouraging and kind, but the ghostly stag was worried. Something was not right. There was something much more to this than meets the eye. Shaking his heavy skull the beast turned and started towards the greenhouse.

"Talking here""

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Please tag Mortuus Nox in all posts
magic & permanent injury is permitted excluding death.


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