the Rift


Bring Me Full Circle [Open]

Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#1



HEROES MAY DIE


A thunder of hooves could be heard approaching the sandy beaches of the Endless Blue. Each hoof meets the ground for but a second, tearing away at the coarse footing before it snaps back into the air, gathering beneath the stallion as he launches into another stride. The air is pungent, thick with salt, and he drinks it in eagerly as he makes his way to the shores.

The water explodes as he enters it's shallow depths, rising up and then falling like rain onto his back. It is unlike the Friesian to partake in something such as this, a simple run alone, upon a beach no less. He is not known to be rambunctious, loud, or reckless. But today, with a warm breeze on the wind, he cannot help himself to indulge. It reminded him briefly of the rare, leisurely rides he and Bran would take away from Vallhea, away from the battles and the fighting. The beaches that sat not far from the village had been a popular place for the duo, and it was this sorrowful reminder that Destrier finally slowed his pace, coming to a halt knee-deep in cool waters.

Allowing a breath to escape his nostrils, the stallion arched his neck, casting his gaze to the translucent waters. Bran. The thought of the boy still tore Destrier up into pieces, for it had truly not been long at all since his boy was brutally taken away from him. Sure, the Friesian had been born into a life of war, a soldier from the very beginning. Wild he had been, but with Bran, he had learned to trust, learned that not everyone was as they seemed. They had shared an unbreakable bond, one to be cherished and held closer than any of those pretty women Bran had often spoken to him about...

The white foam of a wave distorted his reflection then, taking his thoughts away with it. The length of his mane was raised from the waters as he lifted his head back up, and looking out across the endless blue that this place was named for, he blew a soft sigh. Still new to this land, Destrier was unsure what it might hold for him, if anything. Fighting was all that he knew, and he doubted that it would end here. Would he become a soldier once again, or would he rise to the ranks of even a general? It was difficult to tell what fate held for him, and he supposed that these never-ending musings had brought him here in the first place. The gentle murmuring of the waves was relaxing, but even as it licked away at the sand, it did little to ebb away at those painful memories plaguing his mind.

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

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You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#2



Sometimes Tor regrets. Sometimes she struggles through. Sometimes, she wonders what would happen if she settled down for once. When she had arrived in the Endless Blue, she didn't know. She was enjoying the smell of salt and the whisper of breezes in her ears, but did not enjoy the memories so much. Ophelia. Where had her heart-sister gone? They had been close, from the start, and the mare had disappeared. Where? Not once since Birdsong had she caught scent of the white unicorn. Damn.

The draft was trotting quietly, letting the roar of the ocean sound out her thoughts, pretending the ocean salty was washing away the bothersome thoughts. Faelene was right- this world did push you back, one step at a time, then two forward. It felt like she was moving backwards. But she was only moving forwards. At least that was what the white and gray mare told herself. Time to renew and time to begin again. That is what Birdsong was for.

Yet she couldn't forget everything she had done here in Helovia. It was impossible. She just had to... figure it out. Speak to Lace eventually. Learn and live and move on past her stupid heartbreak and getting high on mushrooms and... wow. I'm not Tor anymore. Tor, two months ago, would not have done that. The change, the draft could only imagine, was for the worst, not the better.

Life only kept getting more complicated, and look ahead, there is a handsome black Friesian to confuse matters more, if that is possible. "Hello?!" The nearly-white draft calls, drifting closer to the panting stallion.




T O R



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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#3



HEROES MAY DIE


It is like glass shattering when the stallion's thoughts are interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. A sudden wave rushes through him, and quickly he turns on his feet to face the source of the voice. The painted mare that he found himself face to face with did not seem a threat, but he knew all too well that that never meant a thing. Still, she had only called out a simple 'hello', sounding as if she wanted his attention more than anything else.

"Hello," he said in reply, lifting his dark eyes to the mare's own. Her own appear to be softer, much warmer than his own, but he cannot miss the look of uncertainty within them. There is something missing, begging to be coaxed out. Perhaps one day, it could happen, but for now... He would focus on the finer things, like her name, for instance, and figuring out if she is friend or foe.

The sand beneath his feet shifts as he moves out of the waters, leaving the thick feathering of his legs drenched, the fine hairs clinging tightly to his fetlock. Beads of water run along his side, but they do not last long against the warm beams of the sun high in the sky. He focuses once again on the draft before him, who stood just a little higher than himself. He can't deny himself the fact that she is beautiful, the grey patches on her hide standing out boldly against the white.

"My name is Destrier; I am new to Helovia." He pauses then, coming to a halt a couple yards from the mare. After all, he wouldn't dare want to make her unnecessarily uncomfortable. The Friesian could not help himself for what he was going to ask next, even if a part of him was screaming just to shut up and allow her her own turn to speak. "If I may ask, miss... Are you alright?"

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

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You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#4



The sand whispers something to Tor, but she cannot understand its language, and so the message of a possible partner goes unheard. She shifts, silent, as he returns the greeting. At least he is polite.

And handsome. And tall, almost as tall as her. She tries not to stare, she really does- after all, it is so very rude of her. He is handsome, muscular, a coat like obsidian. Did her coat look like that when she was little? Again she shifts, not uncomfortable, but uncertain. The sand whispers again as the wind slips over the golden particles, and the water hits the shore again. Hush, hush, the waves cry. A seagull lands on the shore not so far away, and Tor immediately resists the urge to chase it.

"Oh..." The draft sighs, placing her attention back on the black stallion. "Sorry. I'm Tor. Wanderer, healer, explorer, adventurer. I don't suppose you are interested in adventuring with a mare, are you?" When have I become like Phae? Flirting? "New to Helovia, hmm? I remember when I first came here. Everything was fairly confusing." Inhale. Exhale. Tor laughs quietly, remembering her meeting with Paladin so very long ago. Yet Tor's mind shifts away.

"Do you give your secrets away to the first person you meet?" Because that is what she has become. A book full of confusion. "Look, let's go for a walk... and maybe we can talk about things." Is he a friend or enemy? Or what?




T O R



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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#5



HEROES MAY DIE

As he watches the mare, waiting for an answer to come from her lips, he cannot help but notice that she seems distracted. Was there truly something the matter? Had he offended her by asking something so personal, before he'd even learned her name? He hadn't meant it like that, for he simply wondered of her welfare, and would have been more than happy to try and help if he was able...

And then, she spoke. Tor was her name.

It sounded as if the draft standing before him had seen many a thing in her days. Idly he wondered to himself, had she ever taken her adventures away from this land of Helovia? Or was she just like him, new here, or just passing through? Maybe she had seen Vallhea in her days, but it was unlikely; the stench of humans and all of their strange contraptions had an uncanny way of scaring away most animals. Long ago, he had been the same.

His mindless musings were put behind him when Tor spoke again, and he could not help the confusion that crossed his features. She spoke not of his secrets, but of her own. He had not expected anything more than a 'yes' or a 'no' to his question, so when she invited him to go on a walk... It was strange, yes, but he found himself yearning to know more of this stranger, this beauty called Tor. "Of course not, miss," he answered with a warm look in his eyes, the confusion wiped completely from his face. He did not want to seem rude. "I'm sorry, I don't mean it to sound so demanding... A walk does sound lovely, however."

At this, he picks he feet up and turns to walk horizontal to the crisp waters, allowing her to navigate as close or as far away as she pleased. "So, Tor," he spoke up after some moments of silence had passed, even if he did enjoy the simple pleasure of walking alongside the frothing tide, "How long have you been here, in Helovia? Have you traveled far in your adventures?"

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

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You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#6



The pale draft falls into step beside him; the two of them remarkably contrasted together. But she only feels he is a kind soul, so far anyways, and she may as well enjoy his company with a quiet voice rather than shouting from twenty feet away. Besides, wasn't it always one of her finer qualities that she trusted everyone? While he did respond in his soft, respectful voice, Tor didn't answer, for what was there to answer with? Yes, she had been rather snappy with him, but then again, so many things were on her shoulders right now. Dealing with another stranger tested her kindness more than ever, but mostly, she struggled through.

Have you traveled far? Ha! He should ask me where I haven't been. "Well... " Tor says, slowly, her voice hardly audible over the grumble of the ocean. Then she clears her throat, and speaks up. "It would be better to ask where I haven't been. I was born in Li'Nal, a nice wintry land, very cozy despite the cold, few predators, not much to worry about. But unfortunately, the land could not hold all of the horses, and so my father requested a few of us leave. It was for the good of my family, so with good farewells, I left." And she hadn't gone back, although many times she had thought of it. "After, I was traveling, exploring, imagining myself discovering new places, before I ended up on the border of the Lost Forest, a forest so massive and wild very few dare venture in. There I found Lei the Shaman, and I was trained under her wing." A flash of a black wing in the sunlight, pale, sightless eyes, a liquid black leonine tail; and the memories were gone.

"I came to Helovia after that, and entered in Orangemoon, I believe. What of you, Destrier?" She had told him the mainly abbreviated version of her story. Now what about him, indeed?




T O R



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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#7



HEROES MAY DIE

The mare's voice is nearly washed away with never ending sound of the sweeping waves, and he cocks an ear to the side to get a better listen on what she was saying. The land in which she had been born, Li'Nal, was unknown to the Friesian. He had traveled many places in his own days, whether for leisure or for an ambush attack on an enemy, but there were still countless lands that he had yet to see and hear of. It sounded as if she had had a pleasant start to life, at least until she had been asked to leave. It had not been a direct question to her, of course, and it was for the welfare of her family, her herd; a noble act indeed, one he was not sure he could bring himself to do.

The Lost Forest was another land virgin to his ears, and the very thought of it had him wanting to know more. But when she spoke of the very Shaman who had trained her, his interst shifted, and he turned his head to to get a better look at the mare. An equine with the powers to heal; it was a foreign concept back in Vallhea, and he had not been in Gassul long enough to remember much other than the bloody battles he had been thrust in to. "You are noble," he spoke up once she had finished, his words simple, "I'm unsure whether I could do that or not."

Now, she seemed to want a story from him. There was so much to tell, so many things that had happened in his ten years of life, and yet there were some events that he simply didn't want to touch on. He wasn't ready for that yet, not again. "I was born in a land called Gassul," he began, lifting his head slightly as he recalled those memories from so long ago, "That is where I began my training to becoem a soldier. I was there for almost four years, before a volcano errupted and scattered those in my clan. So I wandered alone for six months." Now, a low chuckle escaped his throat, and he found himself wondering just how Tor might react to the next part of his story.

"Then, would you believe it, a group of elves managed to catch me. They let me settle for some time, but then they started to try and ride me, but I wouldn't have it." He let out a breath then, allowing his head to drop back to it's normal position. "Long story short, one of them finally did it. I came to trust that boy with my life, and I carried him to victory through many battles in the name of Vallhea." A pang of guilt and sadness filled the Friesian then, but before they could take grip, he managed to focus back on the sight of Tor, and flashed a warm look to her. He would not be surprised if she turned up her nose at the thought of being ridden, to give in to some two-legged creature and become their pet; but that wasn't what it had been, not at all.

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

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You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#8



The draft, the pale draft, wondered what this big horse of night would think of herself. Listening to her own story again, was like listening to a stranger's. Mother and father had become more soft and blurred in her memories, and so very frequently did she wonder if she should leave, at the very least to visit them. But she didn't, and sometimes she pondered if she didn't want to, or if she really was too busy here. No, she did miss them, like she would miss a leg, but she couldn't leave the Gray behind, not now, not ever. The Gray was her family now, at least until she did settle into a herdland.

That's noble of you. If she could've blushed, there was quite the chance Tor would, but horses don't, so instead she blinked a few times. "Do you really think so?" The draft supposed it would be quite noble and fancy and lovely of her to do so, but it just seemed like something she had to do it. It wouldn't be fair to let the grass die and wither under the mouths of so many hungry horses, and leave those hungry horses to perish in those freezing winters. Then the draft added; "I'm sure you could if you found yourself doing a simple thing for the good of the family. Lots of horses would, I like to think." Faelene's words of doubt about the good of the horses echoed in her mind. But I like to imagine the horses are kind. Tor's response came back defiantly.

Just as he had listened so politely, she pricked her ears and let every piece of his story sink in. Elves? She had seen a few elves in the Lost Forest. Nimble, slender little things, but they had never bothered to try and capture her and Lei. In fact, they seemed to respect the two of them; probably something to do with their healing gifts. "I'm sorry for your losses." Tor sighed, letting herself drift a step closer to his flank. She assumed something had happened in order to make him leave his home with the elves.

The amulet, she imagined, grew warmer on her chest, the emerald one glittering with green. "So..." The draft sculpted of moonlight and pale shadows trailed off uncertainly. What did she say now? "Have you... seen the Gods or traveled to the Veins yet?" Ah, yes. Perfect subject to pick up on.




T O R



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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#9



HEROES MAY DIE

It was strange that the mare would question him on what he'd said of her nobility, but he wouldn't chastise her for it. In all actuality, it made him curious as to just why she needed reassurance on the subject. Was she really so unsure of herself? "Of course," he answered easily then, a gentle smile pulling at his black lips, "I could be wrong, but I don't beleive there's many in the world who could bring themselves to do something like that."

When she continued, speaking of doing good for one's family, he found those memories of Vallhea threatening to come bubbling forth. While there were plenty of fond memories to be relished regarding his old home, they were the very ones that hurt him most at this time, and so with a deep breath, he tried to shove them back into the depths of his mind. But regarding what she had said, yes, he believed that he would have been able to do such a thing for the ones he loved. Besides, as the saying went... If you truly loved something, you had to be able to let it go, right?

He was so close to reassuring Tor that it was alright, but that wasn't true at all. He'd seen much death and destruction in his life and wished it could all be forgotten, but it wasn't that easy. Instead, he flashed that same smile at the mare and let loose a smooth exhale. "It happens to all of us, Tor; it is a fact of life that we will all lose something precious one day." But that didn't mean it hurt any less when it did happen.

As they walked along, leaving a trail of hoofprints along the sandy beaches, Destrier found himself enjoying his time with the painted draft. While they hardly knew each other, the Friesian could tell that they held similar qualities. She was reserved in what she said, he could tell, but there had to be a reason for it hiding somewhere deep in the crevices of her mind. Maybe one day, if they had the pleasure to meet again, he would find out why.

Now, her focus had turned to the Veins of the Gods located here in Helovia. He had already heard of them, but had he traveled there? "No," he answered her, "But I would like to, to gain armor to aid me in protecting my new home in the Edge. Again, I could be wrong, but I fear war may be lingering on the horizon."

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

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You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#10



Pale marble and gray stone was moving, knee joints cracking, as it continued beside black obsidian, the two of them wandering through the sand like right old friends. But marble, stone, and volcanic rock do not feel as these horses feel. Jaws parted, delayed hesitantly, before reciprocating Destrier's kind words. "Thank you. You are kind." Simple, clear words come from the silken pearl mouth, before the lips seal themselves.

Close enough the two steeds were that the maiden heard the dark prince's deep sigh, and sighs were so very often a sound of regret and woe. It was irresistible, this insatiable urge to query what harried his soul to let out a grave sigh, and so the mistress let her homely nature take over. "Why do you sigh so, Destrier?" Moments afterwards, there was apprehension gnawing at her stomach; who was she to tread on his worries, when she had so gracelessly refused from telling the handsome horse what was on her mind?

An apology was always in order, even if the stallion told her otherwise, and so Tor twisted her head in a firm like shake, a slight curl of her lips downwards. "Maybe so, but that does not mean one can get away without giving their regrets for another. If that makes sense of any sort..." Vocalizing it, it didn't seem to fit together the way it should've.

On the two wandered, the wind a grinning thing twisting in the air, fiddling with manes black and silver. Tor resisted the urge to let the air escape her lungs; it did seem she had got into quite the habit of her sighs. Meandering they were, and so the lady let her thoughts relax, let the sweet salty air cleanse the more bitter parts of her soul; and she did imagine neatly putting away all those regrets and anger, instead airing out the happy memories. Of mother and father and sister and brother, of adventures, of games and young, untroubled times. Did the gods, the draft wondered, create the inhabitants of Helovia? Or did they sculpt only the lands?

"It is good of you to be so caring for your family. A quality like that is something born not created." He was a softer soul, so much less mysterious than Lace... and she found herself relaxing in a way unlike any other. It was endearing, talking, learning about someone new. The painted mistress found herself enjoying every moment of this, found herself warming almost immediately to this kindly boy. "I'm afraid of war." Tor said suddenly, and immediately she wants to snatch it back. What a thing to say...

"I don't know what side I'm on."




T O R



Image Credit [Bottom of Page]
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#11



HEROES MAY DIE

As they walked on, their hooves leaving light depressions in the soft sand, Destrier couldn't help but notice how quickly the two had gotten along together. At first, the Friesian hadn't been entirely sure, but now, they were talking like old friends. They weren't, however, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that this wouldn't be the last time they spoke to one another.

When the draft's question arose, he debated on whether to answer or not. That exhale of a breath had been to clear his mind, to let those memories whirling in his head escape, so that they could not hinder him from enjoying the company of someone new, and focus on what a beautiful day it was. But he could not lie, or simply ignore such an innocent question. With a gentle look towards her, he found strength to answer. "I'm suffering the recent loss of a friend, a brother in arms," he said, keeping his voice strong, "And I'm trying to put it behind me." It was difficult to admit, but if he couldn't get it now, then when would he? He left it at that, however, and allowed for their conversation to continue.

What she said next was a sort of riddle in it's own way, and he gave a slight nod of his head in answer to it. There was a pang of regret for anyone he'd ever hurt, ever helped Bran to kill, for were they not fighting for the same thing in the end? Fighting for what they believed to be right, for the ones that they loved and cherished? It was a curios thought indeed, one that was startling for the obsedian steed to think about. But it would never prevent him from doing what he had been doing for years, not now.

His mind wandered back to the lady walking at his side when she spoke up again, and now, another smile had replaced the grim expression that had since settled upon his face. "I suppose that is mostly true," he said, "But I believe that people can change in time." Destrier was quickly growing more and more curios of the painted mare, wondering just what it was about her that pulled his interest in. A part of her seemed lost, begging to be recovered. She had at least seemed to relax in his presence, and that alone made the Friesian happy. Maybe one day, he would find himself calling Tor the best of friends, or if fate allowed, maybe something more.

But first, another question.

Destrier's face seemed to slip a bit, but it was far from upset, or any sort of similar emotion. "How many sides are there to choose from?" Was his first question, regarding the taller with a quirk of his brow. Her words alone had made him wonder if there really was a war lingering in the air, thick like the mists in the Edge. Then again, nobody had given mention to one, aside from Lace when he had spoke of their relationship to the Basin...

"You should learn more of each side before you align yourself," he said at last, doing his best to sound reassuring, which he hoped he was. Now, he had a question of his own. "Where do you call home, Tor?"

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

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You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#12



"Ah." Tor said quietly, uncertainly, as the sadness enters the ebony stallion's deep voice. She felt guilty, the kind mare, for digging up such memories, because that was her nature, the nature of Tor. No, she lied to herself- his voice remained strong. Maybe she had imagined it. Yes, the painted lady must have. Silly of her to do such a thing. Who was his friend, she wondered? But to say that would certainly be crossing the line, be much more than simply impertinent of her. Again she considered offering her consolations, offering him someone to share the burden with; then Tor decided, just as she remembered the grief of lost Lei and Nanook, such things were best left behind, and the good memories held onto fondly.

For another brief moment, there was a quiet, the silence that was treasured and respected. Before it was broken, of course, by the mind that wandered just as much as her hooves. "Maybe so. Maybe it's just that I haven't stuck around long enough to see any visible changes." He did have a good point, the lady supposed, yet still. Some qualities were just there from the beginning, and loyalty tended to be one. No- it could be grown, cultivated from a seed. So maybe... maybe he was right.

More silence. More hoof-shaped depressions in the sand. How many sides are there to choose from? Too many, the healer thought to herself. But she didn't say that. "Well... three, I suppose. The ones considered the "good guys", the neutrals, and the "bad guys". The Qian, for example, the Edge- yes, I know before you came they got a home, but it's just... the ex-Edge didn't really do anything before that. Sure, they stuck to themselves- but hasn't everyone at one point or another?" Of course, there was the Gray. But not seeing Ophelia lately, Tor had begun to doubt. Doubt the need of payment, doubt the need of poisoners and killers. Shouldn't they just pick one side or the other?

"I already know a bit about the basic enemies. Auroreans, or Basiners, are the ones in the north, only accept unicorns, considered the bad guys, and so on and so on. But the Qian were the ones who drove them out. I, personally, live in the Deep Forest... with the Gray. The neutrals, I guess- we are mercenaries, work for payment. But lately, I've been wondering if we should just pick a side or another. Payment is withholding something you can do for another if they can't afford- it's not good, not fair." It was frustrating. Just... there was nothing else to say. What would Destrier think? Would he, maybe, understand?



T O R



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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.


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