"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.
The light of a spring moon is pale and distant. It is hazy, weakened, tired from battling the sun over sovereignty of the sky. Often you can't even see it, but over the land that has been blessed by the lady of wind and shadow, you can always find it.
Beneath the canopies of mist-wreathed trees, green and blossoming in the recent warmth, the darkness is cool and everlasting. Shadows hold a certain density here at the edge of the world - sometimes it even seem like they move around. Shift, stir, swirl along with the ever present fog that blows in from the sea only to grow stagnant in the forest.
This is a land for mysterious creatures, riddles and dreams, and to some... it is home.
At a certain place, situated deep within the heart of the land, a spring bubbles up from the bowels of the earth and shapes a small pond. Normally the black water is hidden by a thick veil of fallen clouds, protected from sight and touch - and from knowledge of its existence. Few ever come to the small glen, where pale trees seemed to have stepped aside and now formed a barrier around it, a wall of dense forest and dancing petals, pink and white that swirl and fall in a sudden breeze. Here the birds are quiet, the rodents scarce. Untouched, unknown - serene.
When the Glazier slips from the embrace of the forest and steps out into the moon-touched world, it is with a dazed expression. The eyes are hazy, filled with the sight of the moon, the glen, the white dragon that fly quietly across the sky in silent reverie. Without a word he see the beady white veil slowly disperse from the surface of the pond, revealing the surface that is still black, empty.
Thoughtless, wordless. Something beckon him forth, and without question the blessed steed step into the water, so softly that the quiet surface doesn't even ripple around his sooted legs. But when he look down into the inky liquid, he beholds what few others have ever seen.
For the waters of the pond are far from empty. The darkness is only a perceived darkness, a preconceived lack of color and transparency. The truth is different entirely; for the waters simply reflect the vastness of the sky above, the black arch that curve softly above the face of the earth. When he look deeper, he find that the darkness is not eternal. It is broken, shimmering, speckled with the light of stars, so vast and deep that the mind boggle at the thought of what would happen should he fall in, drown, loose himself completely within it. He wishes to dip the muzzle below the surface and drink, fill his entire being with this water, consume until nothing remains and the creature that is Lace has vanished completely.
A shudder pass down the spine, and with great effort he tear the eyes away from the haunting sight.
The gentle touch of a breeze bring him back to reality, to the purpose of his visit to this peculiar place. He had been seeking these starlit waters, searched for them, because he had a vision in mind he wanted to bring to reality. An image, a thought - an idea, so interesting and tantalizing that he could almost taste it upon the tongue.
With a deep breath, the stallion graced with the gift of the Moon closed his eyes, gathered all focus to the one image in his mind. He held it lightly as a reference, and carefully, as if handling a very dangerous animal that might bite as gladly as follow his command, the thoughts reached out into the night. From beneath the bowing branches of the blossoming cherry trees he gathered the darkest shadows, from grass and under sleeping flowers the densest darkness, brought it to him and piled it up, stacked it high.
Slowly, patiently, the glazier began to shape it, and as he did the world around him began to transform. The night seemed to brighten, while the area right next to Lace darkened. Darkness came alive, wrapped around him, coiled and wreathed like a thousand reluctant snakes, attempting to escape his mental grip. Every shadow beneath the eye of the moon came alive, dancing madly around their source - fearing, hoping, wanting, to be selected and chosen to do the bidding of the Moon's proxy.
It was going to take most of the night to complete this. What he had in mind was big, and the task difficult; but hopefully, the result would be well worth it.
(gather round, and watch the Glazier at work. You may speak, but Lace won't answer - he's too busy at the moment)
Tor did not want to appear a stalker. Not at all. But she felt awkwardly enough she was stalking him. Did following him constitute as stalking? She wasn't... collecting his hair or anything. Ohmygosh. But she had found herself coming after him again, for reasons she wasn't sure of. Hadn't rejection made her feel guilty or sad at least? And you know... walking after him on a cold night didn't appear very... un-stalkerly. Dear me, not only had her feet found herself ghosting through the Edge's forest, but she had come to a halt in a sheltered glen, where pink and white petals ran their silky hands through her mane and rested on her broad back.
And there was the stallion the ghost had been haunting. (No I haven't! I'm sorry, that was Tor snatching away my keyboard.) He seemed entranced, pulled into the water of the pool of ink scattered with handfuls of glistening white stars. Unease gnawed at Tor's stomach, worry. It looked almost as if... as if there was a haunting being under the water, cooing his ears, a kelpie come to seduce him only to drown him. She wanted to say something, wanted to interrupt his silent ceremony that echoed chillingly in her brown eyes.
The stars began to shine brighter, but darkness, roiling darkness, gathered around the one her heart went out to. Her intuition was crying to leave this place. It wasn't natural to be here, in this sacred place. Everything in her screamed to run, but she stayed unmoving, eyes watching. What was he making? She was prickling and she sneezed, loudly, interrupting the peace, or the deadly silence, that had been suffocating her. Her skin itched, her pelt crawled. It was too silent, too dark, too... chillingly haunting. The moon glittered on the spring, a glittering white disk spun of sugar. Leave this place! Her instincts tried to tell her in vain once more. But leave she did not, and so she observed with eyes used to taking in desperate situations within one beat of her heart.
"talk talk talk"
move move move think think think
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
Yseulte didn't know why she chose to follow him, but she did.
She knew it wasn't very polite of her to go snooping after him, but the grullo stallion had intrigued her with his ageless eyes and strange acts of kindness and his interesting display of affection for his Edge herd mates. He was a most bizarre specimen, one she had never met the likes of before. Zjarri would have despised him. And perhaps that was why she slunk after him like some feral cat, stalking him like his own shadow. Or, more likely, Yseulte simply had a certain disregard for rules and social norms.
While Tor might have been stressing about being a stalker, Yseulte embraced it.
He wouldn't notice her presence, not unless she wished it. She was accustomed to moving with the shadows, blending like a wraith into the night. Only fleeting flashes of blonde hair shot silver by moonlight and a whispered hush of flattened grass hinted at her passing presence. Her eyes were lit with starlight, and the canopy over head laced her back in patterns of trembling leaves and pine needles. The spring moss underfoot felt cool and springy, and the grasses brushed against her knees with a delicate touch. She used her pearl horn to sweep a curtain of tangled ivy apart, her gaze never leaving the silver stallion's movements.
She was somewhat surprised when another moonlit figure joined the chase just ahead of her, follow Lace just as silently. She certainly didn't recognize the pale mare, but that didn't mean she wasn't from the Edge. Yseulte only knew a select few from her new homeland, and so perhaps she simply hadn't met this one before. However, it made no difference where the mare was from. What mattered was why she was here. Why were they both here, in this silent, still grove?
Oh, oh no.
A moonlit affair? Yseulte wrinkled her nose in disgust, like a child who had discovered a particularly revolting bug. She almost abandoned the stalking of Lace right then and there to leave him with his lady, determined to find a nice sea cave to sleep away the nightmarish images that swamped her head. However, as she begin to turn away, she realized one set of hoof beats had faded. She risked a brief glance back, noting the mare had stopped her advance and was huddled in the shadows, watching. Frowning, Yseulte directed her gaze to Lace, who had stopped near the spring's edge, and was summoning thick strands of darkness from the shadows, and it was then Yseulte realized what she was witnessing.
Creation.
Creation far different than the sort she had previously assumed was about to take place, of course. No longer worried about keeping her presence hidden from the mare or Lace, Yseulte strode forward with paces soft as the starlight on the water's surface. She halted a respectful distance away from the stallion so that she wouldn't interrupt his taming of the darkness, and watched with open fascination as he fashioned wraiths of darkness to do his bidding. So enraptured by the mastery of his craft, the presence of the unknown mare was forgotten.
Until she sneezed.
Yseutle flattened her ears in an irritated manner, shooting an annoyed look across the clearing in the mare's direction.
Their coming was like the wing strokes of night flies. He noticed that they were there, like he noticed the wind as it tugged at the pale strands of silk that hung down to the ebony nose, and the trees that sheltered the clearing. But much like the very landscape around him, the presence of the two mares was of little to none importance right now. The Glazier was busy, much too busy with the things at hand to notice the wary glances passing from one lady to another, or to pay any heed to a tickling nose that broke the silence of the night.
Continuing to stack the darkness, little by little a shape began to form. It was large, almost as large as the stallion himself and similar in shape, yet the thickening darkness was sectioned and jagged, and as of yet it was still see-through.
Patiently molding and shaping, Lace then reached out for the water that surrounded the knees, grasped the starlit liquid and brought it up from the pond to mix with the shadows. Like small rivers flowing upwards, tendrils of water rose from the surface of the pond, joined with the slithering mass of shadow. Following the map before his inner vision, slowly a new object was being born - wreathed from the very elements of nature.
It took time. As the cob-webbed stallion worked, the moon moved inch after inch across the sky. The wind picked up and stirred the mist like a ladle might stir a thick soup, sending it swirling across the open grass and making it disperse. Heartbeats, breaths, thoughts and guesses. What was he making? Not even the pale dragon knew, the white one that eventually tired of her game of tag with the moon and came down to land next to the painted draft mare. Warbling a soft greeting to the two onlookers, Fajira curled up on the ground and joined them as audience and watched her bonded at work. She was pleased. Finally he made use of the gift that had been his for so long, and even without her having to prod him for it to happen. It took so long time though, was the thing he made really that big?
Well, it was. As the mixture of shadow and water slowly began to grow more dense and the shaping and molding of the matter became more visible, the object in question became clear. No doubt inspired by the scales of his dragon, Lace was fashioning a suit of armor. It was dark, like the velvet blue of the night sky yet with a certain sheen to it that kept it from being gloomy, it was forged entirely from frosty glass. Thin, supple, it would probably be heavy to wear but strong enough to withstand impact without shattering. Made as to adjust to the size of different races and breeds of horses, it was truly a magnificent piece of artwork; art with a dark purpose, for it was clearly meant to be used.
And so, when the moon finally began to sink and a pink blush began to color the sky in the east, the last piece sunk down onto the ground, finished - and with a tired sigh, completely worn out and chilled to the bone after standing so long in the cold spring water, Lace stumbled back up on solid ground.
"This armor is hereby gifted from the Glazier of World's Edge, to the WingLeader of the World's Edge. May it be used by them, and them only, forever to belong to the highest ranked soldier at the World's Edge. Now and forever more." He was tired, yet the neck was held high and as he turned the head to look at the mares, taking them as witnesses of the event, the gaze was firm.
A jubilant cry was heard from the white dragon at the announcement, and in a sudden flurry of movement she threw herself into the air and began to fly in circles around her bonded. He smiled at her, then slowly began to make his way over to the ladies - carefully, since the legs were all but numb from cold.
Last to arrive, but just in time to see that the armor that the Glazier had made for whoever was to be made the WingLeader. She smiled, glad to see that this herd was becoming more of a family every day and looking for ways to protect each other. The only thing that would make it better was if Breeze were with her. The way the flowers fell above her head was just perfect, the white and pink mixing with her mane and tracing down her backside. One flower, a beautiful pink one broke off right into her cream forelock near her right ear. The soft light that had begun to filter through the trees made her coat appear to be a rosy red, instead of the normal roan. Two other mares were nearby the grulla who had been hard at work, but in the early morning light the nurse could clearly tell one seemed at home and the other did not. Her emerald green eyes narrowed, watching the one who did not seem like she belonged.
She moved forward, becoming instantly protective of her herd mates until she saw the little white at the painted mare's hooves. The girl had seen the dragon before, knew it was bonded to the grulla she was moving to protect. She relaxed, left ear flickering back to hear Lace making his way over. She turned to look at the crafter and smiled politely. "Good Morning, looks like you have been hard at work while some of us slept." She then turned and spoke to the two ladies as she had not yet learned their names. "I am Kiara, one of the apprentice nurses..." She left it open for the other two to speak.
"talk talk"
❧
The Heart is Wiser than the Mind
❧
Please Tag Kiara in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kiara at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.
Sliver-rimmed clouds herald a vibrant sunrise soon to come, the lightening of the eastern sky a surefire indicator of a clear, cold day. Spring's kiss left dewdrops on the grass, little pearls of water that break and flow against my dark and searching hooves, sent down to nourish the new green life and saturate the earth. The pre-dawn moments are a lovely time, an hour to be cherished and enjoyed, and really, a time when I would not have minded being fast asleep. But such was not to be my luck today.
Unlike the younger, more dedicated crowd, I no longer spend my nights stalking attractive stallions. Kali's hunger had spurred my into alertness, her claws tugging at my mane and hooking my mind away from pleasant dreams of a moonlit sea. Sluggishly I'd blinked at her, eyes narrowing as they came into focus and absorbed the sight of her innocuous, cerulean gaze. Hungry, she had told me with her movements, long tail wrapping around her feline haunches as she purred hopefully. "Aren't you old enough to hunt on your own?" I'd replied grumpily, but my protests held no strength. I yawned, stretching and shaking the nighttime dew from my back and mane, glancing at the still dark sky and then back at Kali's delicate frame.
As Kali rose into the still morning air I began my daily walk, pale mane clinging diligently to the dark length of my neck in anticipation of the first rays of sun, which would disperse its lingering moisture and free it from the comfort of my skin. I had taken to pacing the borders of our home in my spare time, ostensibly to keep guard of the borders but realistically to maintain some distance from my herd mates. With Mirage's recent disappearance into the hold of the Aurora Basin, I felt naked and exposed, a failure of a sister left to tend to herself in a land of strangers. I would rescue her, and soon; but I could not do it alone, and the idea of approaching the strangers who shared my borders was not an appealing one. Why this loneliness had overcome me once more was beyond my insight to discern, but my antisocial nature relished the separation.
Which brings us here, to the edge of a clearing where many have gathered, and where I have somehow wound up.
Kali sent me the image of the strange mare, a blue and white paint who followed the one she knew as 'her' Lace. Despite my distance from the herd, Kali had been cultivating her recognition of who belonged and who didn't; she fully embraced the idea of family, my gryphon, and all of them belonged to her. As her excited thoughts flooded across our bonds, I caught snippets of images, a glow surrounding a distant pool and a growing crowd surrounding our glaizer. A glassy creation too beautiful and strange to quite comprehend. It wasn't until Kali spotted a rabbit and the images stopped that I realized I'd been making my way towards the little gathering. In the rising dawn, I stopped, and for a brief and floating second my body tensed in preparation to turn away.
Then I stopped, and laughed at myself, and carried on.
The first I saw was Lace, his steps hesitant as he approached the little group. They stood away from me, across the pool, two unknown and one I recognized as Kiara, the young mare resplendent in the growing light. I could hear her introduction, her open tone and invitation for some explanation as to the strangers' presence - no, not strangers. Kali had only denoted the equine as not belonging, although the unicorn was still as stranger to me. But so was everyone, these days.
With a nodded greeting to the exuberant Fajira, I left the group to mill about itself for the moment. Far more interesting than a bunch of fawning mares was the discarded creation of Lace, a glassy thing left upon the ground where the stallion had stood, glittering in the dawn and enticing all my curiosity. Gingerly I stepped forward, testing the damp ground before placing a hoof down, mud splashing up onto the starry patterns that marked my legs. My neck extending, I reached a nose to touch the stuff, snorting at the chill of the transformed sand. It was lovely, whatever it was. It brought back memories, the vision of a great black steed decked in bloodstained silver and another, golden mare with metal wrapped around her hocks. Was this the same, perhaps?
Temporarily finished with my inspection, I lifted my dark crown, finally offering some acknowledgment to the others present. I let my gaze pass over the blue and white mare, the slightest narrowing of my eyes indiscernible to any but those who know me best, head held high in uncomfortable authority. Measured steps brought me closer to them, slightly - "You look exhausted, Lace." Quiet concern makes its way into my voice, genuine and sudden. Lace had been a central pillar of support for our herd in the absence of Mirage, filling the place I should have stepped into, and any resentment I might have felt for his strength was offset by my gratitude. It would do no good to have our craftsman work himself to death. Again I stepped forward, an easy pace from the grullo stallion now, ready to offer physical support should the smaller equine need it.
Glass. Dark blue glass flowed, twisted, turned, carved as the glazier worked, melding and forming and welding together the heavy pieces, eyes almost vacant, seeming far far away. There was silence. A mare came, another, but time was trickling through the invisible hourglass like water pouring through hands. In other words, Tor did not know, nor really cared, when they came. But he did complete his work, many hours later, and Tor had realized she had stiffened and her knees had locked.
For the WingLeader. The stallion had said, as he slowly folded to the ground, looking exhausted. Armor. Blue and dark, draconic as well. Intimidating. No, she didn't know him. Why did Tor love him? Why? You know nothing about him. Not who he likes, who he dislikes, who his friends are. You are an outsider- an Outcast. It seemed only then did her title hit her. Not Tor the Wandering Healer, not Tor of the Foothills, not Tor of the Edge- Tor the Outcast.
The draft considers making a quick exit, now that so many mares have appeared to coo to his ears and stroke him with soft words. Maybe he loves the black mare who approaches him on silent feet. There is a moment of hostility, of completely out-of-place jealousy blossoming in the mare's belly, before she pushes it away firmly with a shake of her head. It wasn't her place to tell any other mare away from him. He's not mine. "A fine gift to your herd." She says, uncomfortable, and with a slight duck of her head, the marbled lady moves away.
She cannot thinking about the mares surrounding him, even the filly.
Does he love one of them? Or does his heart really belong to no-one?
"talk talk talk"
move move move think think think
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
It is beautiful, of course. All gleaming bright with marbled blues and blacks, polished with stardust and darkness woven into the strongest of protection. Fascinated, she was unable to remove her eyes from his glorious creation, in awe of his superb craftsmanship. He moved towards them with stiff legs, woken from his bone-deep trance at last and his eyes glitter bright with the colors of dawn. His dragon shrieked and twirled through the air, and Yseulte couldn't help but envy him.
For his craftsmanship and for his loyal companion.
Another approached, a roan mare with eyes green like the spring, and Yseulte could hardly bother herself to recall if she had met the mare before, though she vaguely remembered the mare's face from the bonfire gathering during Frostfall. The girl possessed a sweet, cheerful aura, and Yseulte could only marvel at the mare's ability to be so...chirpy. After greeting Lace in a somewhat exuberant manner, she turned to Yseulte and the black and white mare, introducing herself.
"Yseulte," she offered bluntly, and then motioned to Lace with a brief shrug of her horn. "His apprentice."
A shadowy mare laced with polished gold and even darker, cold eyes prowled near them next, and Yseulte's ears twitched with sudden curiosity. The mare was unusually formidable with a strong stance and proud posture. Her eyes, like Lace's, seem far older than her face, as if she had seen many things in her lifetime though she seemed neither young nor old. Yseulte shifted slightly at the sudden appearance of the mare's companion—an animal Yseulte had not seen before in her travels. It was a curious mixture between a sleek feline and a bird of prey, and Yseulte found it most fitting for the dark-eyed mare.
Yseulte's own body language communicated strength and dominance, though she was hardly aware of it. Her expression was indifferent, relaxed and serene, but her eyes were bright and missed no movement made by her opposite. She was dangerous, Yseulte decided to herself with a vague sort of amusement. But then again, she liked dangerous. Slight feelings of animosity churned in her stomach, but was instantly checked by an even stronger emotion. Respect.
Their eyes met for a fleeting second—and something unmistakably malevolent clashed between the two mares.
But then the moment passed, and Yseulte could not be sure it had even happened at all.
Sometime between his arrival and the completion of the armor, the glen had become filled with mares. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed them, it was just that Lace hadn't had time to reflect upon how many they were until his task was finished. Now, as he moved away from the spring with a pale morning sun caressing the golden strands across his back, he felt the cheeks heating up upon realizing how much of an audience he'd had.
He smiled gently towards a roan filly as she slipped in by his side and presented herself, and reached out to nibble the tips of her creamy mane in a friendly way. He'd of course heard her name and seen her figure in the herd before, but this was the first time they were formally introduced. And not a moment too soon.
"Haha, indeed, and good morning to you too. It's good to see that you are well, Kiara. We were all relieved when you came back home.. I'm only sorry we couldn't bring you back earlier." Gilded eyes strives to capture her gaze for a moment before releasing it once more, offering a look of quiet apology for his inability to keep her from being kidnapped in the first place. It was something he would always regret; but indeed, he was equally glad to see her there.
Not pausing in his slow stride, his attention was soon captured by the arrival of Rishima. Silent like a shadow and just as elusive as her dragon-hearted sister, she paused to inspect the pieces of glass strewn over the grass by the pond before eventually joining him; the stallion couldn't quite suppress a smile at her words. Nodding, he could but agree. "It took more effort than I thought it would" he told her, coming to a halt only when the two others were close enough for everyone to carry on a conversation. "I wasn't even entirely sure how to go about. I just had an idea, and a notion that I had to make it real before the image slipped from the mind. If I'd known it would take the entire night, I would never have attempted something as complicated and arduous as a suit of armor." Accepting her silent offer of support, he allowed his weight to shift to the side, carefully leaning against her black shoulder. The warmth seeping from her hide was welcome, as was the company of those he considered as family and friends.
"Magic is harder to control than one might think, isn't it? I never had much to do with it before I came to Helovia, but now it seems it's thrown at me from all directions, even required of me to wield. I doubt I'll ever really get used to it..." He sighed in played desperation, offering a charming smile at the ladies in hope that they might pick up on the topic.
Silence wouldn't be an option here, that much was certain. Even as he spoke, the silver grulla took in the sight of Tor and Yseulte measuring each other with their eyes, only for his lavender hued apprentice to do the same with Rishima. Whether the sharp glance was returned or not he didn't see, but it was enough of an indicator to make the stallion want to sigh inwardly. Did mares always have to squabble amongst themselves?
As if it wasn't enough, he himself felt somewhat awkward as he glanced at Tor. What the healer was doing this deep within the Edge was hard to explain, but he didn't object to her presence - he just wished that their last meeting in the Secret Grove could be made undone, so that he didn't have to feel the weight of words unspoken hang in the air between them. It was all he could manage to offer her a smile and pretend that nothing at all was wrong between them, before he reached out to give Yseulte a nip just below the withers - a pitiful attempt at distracting her from her glaring contest with Rishima, and potentially avoid a situation that could turn really ugly really fast.
Lace greeted her warmly, nibbling the tips of her mane in a friendly way and catching her eyes as he spoke as if to express an apology. She smiled, trying to convey that no apology was needed. After all, she was tough. She would rather is had been her taken, than the mother of children. That brought her mind back to Solstice, the mother who was still captured. "I am grateful to be home, but would return if it meant Solstice could come home to her family instead." Kiara remained quiet as Rishima also arrived shortly after she had. She merely watched as the ebon mare moved to offer support to Lace, something Kiara had not thought of. Green eyes watched the glance the unicorn was giving... Almost possessive and hostile. The young roan had seen enough hostility lately by being prisoner in the Basin and snorted harshly her eyes narrowing.
The growing hostility however made the fem uneasy, even more so as the one who did not belong to the Edge herd moves away without speaking her name. Merely that it was a fine gift for his herd.. However the purple unicorn did speak her name finally. Yseulte.. and she was Lace's apprentice? Well that made more sense now. It seemed the grulla to felt the hostility as he tried to get the others to speak. The easiest topic of course was magic. "I agree. I never knew of magic, or even the bonds to others until I arrive in Helovia. But I think I shall soon seek magic of my own.. So that I can better aid others." She smiled hopefully, really not wanting to see anyone get in a fight this early in the morning.
"talk talk"
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The Heart is Wiser than the Mind
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Please Tag Kiara in All Posts
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kiara at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.
Contaminated glances and misdirected tensions cast spiderwebs of crisscrossed emotion to weep blood and morning dew into the midst of our marbled gathering. There is a lack of kindness that is infectious, a centralization upon the only male of our midst causing skin to crawl and breath to waver. One, two, three, four; we are mares bound only by friendship with this stag, some ill-begat affection or vain vision of importance in his eyes. We surround him, oozing pestilence of hormones and emotion. We watch, we follow, we bicker and smirk. It is a wonder he has not drowned in the weight of our heavy gazes and cloudy thoughts, that he does not flee us and the demons of our gender as we gather around and engage each other in a battle of fluorescent tonality and wicked stares.
I have never been the greatest fan of my own sex. So as the mares glance and glare, I respond with more intrigue than hostility, following the tension and trying to decipher its purpose. My entrance, it would appear, is marked with more disgust than interest- why? The crass scowl of one, the subtle glower of another, and the innocuous filly who tries to bridge gaps left by silence that stretch between her elders. She speaks in gentle tones, and Lace answers with just as staunch an attempt at airiness; and we, the mares, are still.
Lace's words lead me closer to the hoard, his tired strides inviting me to enter into their little circle of unfamiliarity. I hear his words and take his weight, a faint smile playing with the lines of my mouth and the corners of my eye. His gentle nature is contagious and soothing, and it is impossible to remain stoic as he boldly presses for some peaceful reconciliation of opposing factions. "They say that genius is more perspiration than inspiration, you know," I murmur, adding- "You're going to have to sweat a lot more, but this is a good start." Wry humor softens the dark tones, lyrical accents projected to the collective of mares and the stallion alike. Starry limbs shift as I adjust to the weight of the stallion, gold-tipped forelock pressing irritably against the black of my eyes. I shake my head and snort.
The first to arrive is the first to leave, the giantess looking uncomfortable and hurt as she turns tail and ambles away to her own sunset. Had the tired weight of Lace not been pressed against my side I might have followed, to question the motives behind these bizarre actions, her five minute visit cut short by company. Her interest seemed to lay in Lace alone, for she looked upon me with something akin to loathing, I think, or perhaps just mournful fear. Why, I do not know. But I will never understand the subtleties of mares; but we know this already. I watch her depart, and am left unsatisfied, confused, and ultimately, indifferent.
Now there are four, and I settle back to watch and listen, hopeful that the departure of the one who does not belong will strengthen the unity of we who do. the voices of Lace and Kiara continue to fly out and puncture the bright rise of morning, forced cheer and cautious tones rich with youth and goodwill. They discuss magic, and as they do I find my attention drifting to the one I have yet to hear speak, sensual unicorn of dim blue and proud stance. She stands tall, she carries herself well; I wonder what gives her this authority, then laugh to myself as I recall- youth. Beauty. The feeling that the world is yours, if only you can claim it. I remember that wonder, that joy, but it has been a long time since I looked upon the world as a trove of treasure awaiting my bold step.
I catch her eye, and in the briefest of seconds I can see her with startling clarity and painful truth. Malice, malevolence, hate. A blink; darkness; and it is gone, and I am left wondering why, why had she fixed me with so vengeful a look, when I had done nothing, expressed nothing, shown nothing? Why must mares judge and loathe without any knowledge but what we see? Is all this truly just a shallow act of vying for my friend the Glazier's attention?
Is he even my friend? Now, here, surrounded by mares, Lace suddenly seems foreign to me. What has he done to incense such emotion from these two different mares, to provoke them from their feminine slumber into chaos and coy? How has he toyed, their hearts on a string, playing them with his gentle charm and quiet manners so that they turned on each other like cats in heat? Tension; I grow tense, and I wonder if he can feel it. I should not have come here.
"I was born in a land of a magic more subtle than what Helovia boasts." There is a faint sheen of ice in my otherwise bland tones, a curious emptiness as I add my piece to our storytelling collective. "And I have seen many things since, wonders you would not believe." A pause as I reflect, reflect on a life spent rootless and wandering, a life of little meaning but much knowledge. They do not understand; they will never understand, perhaps, for they have made their roots and laid their beds. I want to say more, but something stops me, holds me back, and I leave the remainder of my thoughts unperturbed.
Behind me, Kali is swooping into the clearing, her breakfast finished. A rabbit's leg dangles lifelessly from her right talon, some sinew and fur still connected to the bloodied bone. She lands on the ground with a graceless stumble, long tail lashing at the air behind her, wings unfurled. Curiously she glances about, bright blue eyes seeking and finding the small white dragon who accompanies Lace. With an avian grin she extends the dismembered limb, chirping happily, oblivious of the tension that coats the morning air. An innocent in all this; I smile at her with fondness, tension melting away in the presence of my dear companion, the holder of my heart. Let mares glare, let Lace tease; Kali's mischief is all the company and entertainment I need.
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