| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
![[Image: winter_snow_by_ladyfey-d5g626q.png]](http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/271/6/a/winter_snow_by_ladyfey-d5g626q.png)
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Enough. It was enough. She couldn't take it any more- not being black or white, being gray. Maybe once she had enjoyed wandering, getting lost, getting into trouble. She had cherished Ophelia's companionship- but Ophelia was gone now. So tired, she was so tired, so sick of it all. It was time to declare her colours, permanently, time to forge a proper tie down somewhere, time to finally settle. Destrier's words echoed in her mind, the words of studying each side. Hadn't she been studying, examining, the sides enough?
Tor was not very quiet- rather loud, in fact, her hooves clumsy, crushing grass underneath her- as she traveled from the Endless Blue, up towards the Edge. Slowly the soft, golden, pale sand had turned to coarse yellow-tan-pale-green grass, and from that beach-grass to a deep, rich emerald, wet and sweet and full of delightful tastes. The sun was a bright, vivid thing this morning, brightening the trees into vivid jades, painting shadows deep and heartlessly black. The big-boned draft's mind was mostly empty, quiet, as the sun rose higher, into the very peak of its ascent, until she finally reached the forest thick and deep.
For a long minute Tor listened to the birds, the trilling, singing birds who flitted from tree to tree- spots of crimson and scarlet, ebony and pale pearl, sapphires and oranges. Then she waited, lingering on the border, mane spilling cream against silver shoulders turning ever paler by the day. By Tallsun, she would surely be a pure white horse, the idea of which rather made her fret. White? What sort of colour is that? Everyone immediately thinks of purity when looking at a white horse. But surely she couldn't be pure all the time!
[Sorry not the best post. They'll improve through the thread.]
"talk talk talk"
move move move
think think think
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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
The fading mare is not alone. Though the mist burns beneath a brazen sun, evaporating into waif and shadow as spring heat rises, I find no trouble making myself invisible. Too many years of wandering in solitude have left me more inclined to silence than sound, a fan of the darker shade of life, of delicate footfalls and winding trails closed to pursuit. Today, I am on border patrol, a spirit of the night sky cast down into a merciless day far outside my element of comfort. I would rather weave through shadows in the twilight air, or dance beneath the twinkling stars. I would rather be sharing a conversation with someone I hold equal, learning the secrets that the universe holds.
I would rather be alone then here, on the border of the Edge, then forced to investigate the obnoxiously loud steps of this to bumbling mare: but I have a duty, a mighty one that I must fulfill to earn my place in this marvelous herd, a duty to guard and protect against potential friend or foe.
The fading mare is not alone. I emerge from behind her, lanky stride and nebulous legs flickering as fingers of mist cling to them like old and needy friends. "Hello," I say from behind her- surely she has noted me by now, but if she hasn't, the dark tones should act as a rather thorough alert. Behind her, I am smiling, a wry curve tugging at the line of my mouth.
But I am in for my own surprise, for all at once I know the mare, a dim recollection springing into the shadowed curiosity of my mind. She was there the night that Lace crafted, a quiet creature that did not belong and made her escape at the moment of my arrival. Her... attachment to the Glazier had been obvious that night. The smile fades; dark eyes narrow; silver locks whip at dusky hocks. Vaguely I wonder what it is she wants, what she's doing here now and what she hopes to gain. If she sought the company of her friend, why linger on the borders like a cautious ghost? She'd found no trouble in trespassing before. "Why do you hesitate?" I ask now, mocking amused and dry and all of it empty. On my face there is nothing but curiosity, polite and unblemished; the whirling of my mind is not for her to see. "You have walked in these woods before."
![[Image: RishiRef.jpg]](http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g240/xaiatora/RishiRef.jpg) |
| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
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A feather, rosy, veined pale pinks, edged in filigree gold, drifted from the trees tall with rustling leaves sweet apple and olive; emerald and moss; jade and viridian. Surrounded by the forest bursting with life, youth and old age, new beginnings and cycles turning once again, Tor felt strangely small, overshadowed by the burgeoning life; the mice peeking out from under leaves, delicate pink noses tentatively twitching, the birds fluffing downy wings and tending to hatchlings, the rabbit pounding through the woods, feet beating a rapid tattoo on the forest floor.
Spring. It is the turning of the year, the renewal, the rebirth, the renaissance, the awakening. It should be a time to put the memories ill behind oneself, to let the breeze smelling of budding flowers bring the good ideas, the values. Yet right now, Tor only felt heavier, only felt more pressured. How did she explain it? Like she was fragile, spreading thin over bones, but outwardly she appeared very little different, apart from the gradual paling of her coat.
The lady shifts her heavy bones, easing a hoof underneath her, ears searching for that tell-tale crunch of another soul moving through the trees amongst the birds' chirps and chords and songs. Indeed, her ears do catch the sound, and for a moment panic enters her, seizes her, clutches at her bones, threatens to suffocate her as it enters her lungs; what is she doing here? Why is she breaking bonds from the Gray? Won't Mirage set new restrictions on healing now? Then the alarm is gone, and the world comes back, mists pale and hued with gold.
Tor turns, this time placing her feet a little more carefully under her, nostrils filled with the scent of Edge and the scent of new life. Her soft brown eyes, so very clearly kind and selfless, settle on a mare nearly a hand smaller than her. She is darker than a starless sky, with a kind of rippling shadow-like form to her, and she somehow seamlessly is one with the world, like she has sprung up from the ground. Gold flares up, like the sun hitting the night-cloaked world, from her legs, gradually fading into the ebony coat, broken by a white strip upon the mare's haunches. Tor recognizes her, faintly, and is met by a fresh surge of guilt upon the mare's words.
Why do you hesitate? You have walked in these woods before. Her voice is dry and almost emotionless, despite remaining cordial, and for a strange moment Tor resists the urge to run away. Yet her feet cloaked in feathers remain still on the floor. "I was not myself when I trespassed earlier. It was rude, and careless, of me to do so. And I was hoping I could perhaps speak to one of the Edge."
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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
01-05-2013, 06:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-05-2013, 06:04 AM by Rishima.)
She flutters with all the grace of a giant moth caught within a spider's silk, her thick haunches leading the charge as the body bends and curves towards me. I notice that she has brown eyes, deeply expressive; they expose some hesitancy, some fear, and an innocuous smidgen of innocent kindness that seems an unfitting decor for so ambivalent a creature. Past her eyes I do not look, though I itch to find some motivation within the dark recess of her flustered mind; for no doubt she is flustered, faced the with meaningless accusation of droll lips. The dim space between us becomes alight with words; senseless and rollicking they dive off the pink of her thumb and land in the black of my ears, where they nestle against downy warmth and are regarded languidly, to be deciphered and decided upon as whimsy takes me.
Silence falls between us like a curtain, muting the ambient calls of insect and avian into a dull and empty husk. It is brief, but poignant, a break for me to cast some judgment on this two-toned creature before breaching the topic of her desires. For of course she desires something; everybody does. To speak to one of the Edge- why? So she might intrude further into our woods, learning our secrets and joining our family? Or is she merely a tourist biding time; a diplomat sent to treat with us; a ghost of the past lingering within the familiar, seeking some degree of resolution before departing this realm for good?
The voice that breaks against spring's brisk grasp is dark and even. "I am one of the Edge." Blandly I reflect on the wording here, the declaration that I am one of the Edge, as though my being is a slice of some land rather than a soul unbound. It is not true, strictly speaking. If anything, I am one of the Qian. But, alas, this is not the time for such reflection. "You may speak to me." Something about her sets me on edge. The way she ogled Lace before slinking away, or the way she weaves a tiptoed path around our border, as though afraid she'll see rejection the instant she crosses, or certain that any moment her mind might change. She does not smell like one without family, I realize. She smells like others, others I cannot place but dimly recollect. Where are they now, is the question that slips through the spaces in my mind, followed by a languid, why are you here?
Kali chooses this moment to reappear from whatever adventures have kept her occupied. Silent and deadly, a gold-edged spear of ivory and ebony, she dives down from the cloudy sky. Corkscrews and dips; she is a show off and a child, but I look at her with fondness, gaze torn from the bulky mare by the insistent desires of my frolicking companion. A flicker of a smile dances across my face now, an unwilling softness overtaking me as the elegant beast that is my soulmate at last settles upon the ground to my left, inquisitive blue eyes fixed upon the draft. Friend? she asks in silence, turning the deadly beak my way. I can see now that it is messy with the residue of whatever she ate for breakfast, dried blood crusted against deft talons and the feathers of her breast. My nose crinkles. I don't know yet. You're filthy. She yawns widely and arches her back, spreading wide wings in an unconcerned fashion, then settles in to preen. Her demeanor screams I'm doing this because I want to, not because you said to. Pale mane dances across the wave of my neck.
I look back to the mare.
"Tell me: if you were not yourself that day, then what are you?" Color drips from the velvet words, if not warmth; still, I let my indifference melt somewhat, and look upon the mare with a curious eye. The relaxation of one cocked hoof is offset by a consistent authority in the carriage of my back, the arc of my neck. The sentence was not butchered, the wording intentional- I do not care who she is so much as what. Where did she come from, what does she want. Why should I let her continue on her little foray into my home.
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| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
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Tor watched the mare with eyes a mixture of caution and something hidden, something more deep, more forcefully tended to, and to one, perhaps, who knew her well would immediately be on alert, for it is so very rare the giantess would ever hide something- but she is and does. Yet it is something more private, benign to the Edge, even if it looks like she plans something dreadful and is not trained skillfully enough to hide it.
For those few seconds, she does not shift uncomfortably as she so often does, the slightly awkward mare Tor may at times be, even despite her most predominant nature of maturity and kindness. Maybe it had something to do with living with a small herd as a foal, or maybe her upbringing, or maybe it was she was just too kind, and only now did she begin to wonder the wisdom of her actions. The sweet pale mare is not simple-minded exactly, but neither is she terribly wise and clever to speak of- she gets on, she tries not to over-think, and she tries her best to live in the present.
Yes, this mare is one of the Edge, as Tor knows. The mare did suppose she had not worded her request the best. Where had she seen the ebony mare, turned gold and marked cream, before? With Lace, an insistent little voice squeals in the very back of the mare’s mind. Oh. But she didn’t love Lace anymore… not in the way she had. Things didn’t have to be complicated unless she made it. What would Lace think of her joining? What would Destrier? Would Mirage still recognize her? Or had Mirage not even noticed Tor’s desperate attempt to save her?
Just as Tor opens her mouth to speak, to respond to this mare who seems one with the earth and so confident with herself, yet not cocky- will I ever be like that?- a bird dives out of the sky, and Tor starts. But it is not a bird, as the mare’s large, warm ocher, earth eyes notice immediately. It’s a gryphon. She cannot recall ever seeing such a creature before, one that grafted so smoothly from eagle to lion it’s hard to tell where one animal begins and the other ends. Despite the pecularity she would think would come with having two animals mashed together, there was an undeniable beauty to the companion of Rishima (not that Tor knew Mirage sister’s name) and she found herself rather drawn to the idea of such a fine creature. Once again she wondered about companions, what it was like to be bonded. Tempted she was, immediately- more and more she found the idea attracting her. Magic was one thing, but having a creature bonded to her, bound to her in love, was wonderful. Someone who would travel with her… but did companions ever not bind?
“I’m sorry, I was distracted by your companion.” Tor said, realizing with a start her thoughts had drawn her away farther than she had intended, yet her eyes stray from Rishima’s to the bloody-breasted gryphon to the right (Rishima’s left) of the black mare. “I wish to find home and sanctuary with the Edge. I’m Tor, part- or was part, perhaps- of the Gray, a mercenary group, yet I find more often the idea of having those in need to pay, turning me away from it. I’m a healer, and a wanderer who wishes to settle, I suppose you could say.” Carefully she did tread around how she had healed the Edge, or the Auroreans, after being driven out, yet even a skilled tone-reader would not be able to tell. Except if they had excellent intuition.
Then the black mare does not query of ‘who’, but of ‘what’, Tor is made of, and the draft finds herself at a loss. Yes, who is she? Wanderer… but no longer does she wander. Fighter? Oh no, certainly not. Lover, friend, mercenary, healer? True, all of them, but the words don’t fit quite right. “Everyone can have a different opinion about one horse, but truthfully… I think I am sometimes stupid, sometimes take on too many allies, sometimes am too kind for my own good, and I make mistakes. But I try my best for my family, and I need to settle these legs before I find myself lost, not just physically but mentally.” Tor exhaled slightly, shuts her eyes for a brief moment, and opens them, almost reluctantly. She worried, you understand, about rejection. Of being turned away. Of telling the poor mare too much. Maybe she had only wanted a simple ‘I want a family’ or ‘I’m nice’.
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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 8 |
| imi |
at what speed must I live, to be able to see you again?
The sound of voices disturbed the feasting brown dragon who had also smelt the familiar scent of Kali, Rishima's demon griffon who always shouted at him. He edged closer along the fat branch he had been sitting on to find out who Mirage's sister was talking to, sending images back to his bonded as he did so, he would be approaching the pair soon. Golden eyes peered downwards and immediately Kiba recognized the familiar patched body of Tor, a healer much like his bonded. The curious brown felt a wave of surprise projected from Torasin at the image, who subsequently increased his pace to greet the pair he called friends. Even if he and Rishima did seem to possess a rocky relationship since after his quest. Kiba stayed on his branch, not too interested in wanting to alert the griffon to his presence.
Painted in gold and alabaster, Torasin walked in as Tor was finishing speaking. Her voice seemingly stressed about loyalties, right and wrong seemed to be the most prominent. With a cheery smile and his customer bounce, Torasin pranced forwards to join the pair in conversation. Offering his more genial voice to the obviously troubled mare. "One could never be too kind, milday Tor. You scold yourself too much, it appears to me that you haven't quite found who you are yet, ma'am."
The healer let his gentle observation sit for a moment before continuing onwards. He knew the mare from last they spoke to be quite earnest and mindful of others, an expert in healing knowledge which would surely help the lands of the Edge. If she truly had left the Grey then the paint would kindly offer her a place her, amongst kind horses who would benefit from her talent.
"I am Moon Doctor here now, ma'am, and I know of your talents and the benefits they would bring. However, are you sure you wish to cut those ties and put all your heart and love into one herd? These horses would become your new family, would you serve them with the dedication you have shown in the past?"
They were important questions. She had to be sure, to commit oneself to one herd was not a simple thing. It tested loyalties and restricted the freedom you would normally have as a nomad. There were many benefits too of course, but as kind hearted as Torasin was, he wouldn't let her join if only half of her heart was in it. Especially into the profession they both shared a love for.
[I thought I'd pick this up for you, I know Charky is on absent atm]
& kiba
torasin
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how much more do I have to lose, before my heart is forgiven?
image by schwartze @ deviantart.com | table by phantom
| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
01-14-2013, 08:11 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-14-2013, 08:12 PM by Tor.)
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If the dark mare was about to reply, however, she was smoothly cut off by a more familiar horse, painted golden like the sun and coat cut with white. The smallest of smiles appeared on Tor's face, and she resisted the urge to immediately cross over to him, away from this mare that had uneased her so much. "You are, Torasin, of course correct. It's true I'm finding difficulty... in discovering myself, as you put it." Was it really that easy to read her emotions? Tor really wasn't certain of her position in this life. More and more often she seemed to flip back and forth. Being accepted into this herd wouldn't be another choice to back out of- she had to mean it. Was she ready?
There was the quietest of rustlings as something disturbed the silence- the mare's eyes moved upwards to rest on the brown dragon clinging to the tree. Kiba, wasn't it? Tor tipped her head ever so slightly towards the little scaled creature, feeling it would be the polite thing to do. From what Lace had told her, companions meant very much to one, and she couldn't imagine the bond being a figment of imagination- so surely they must be aware of greetings, even if not with one's own species?
For a moment the mare let the words sink into her. Even if Torasin spoke breezily of it, she knew it was a serious question. With a sudden twist of her heart Tor recalled Paladin, and Tor telling him she would join his herd even if not ruler. Broken promise? No... she had changed. Yes, that doesn't mean she's bound to it anymore. Besides, the Foothills had seemed to be changing leadership too much recently.
"I'm ready Torasin. I have very often not wanted to settle. I will not back out on this promise to the herd- I will do my best for care for them, as I have done for countless others. But this time, I will not leave, not a week after healing, not a month, not a year- I will be here." Tor spoke softly but firmly, despite the quietness of her voice at the beginning, gradually her voice strengthened.
She didn't really like how noble and valiant she sounded. It sounded boastful to her, but how could she change it?
[Thank you for picking it up for me imi ^^]
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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
She sputters and speaks, and her words ring hollow against the a creature of caution and words too soft for her frame. Impassively I hear, and in hearing I grow confused, bemused, wondrous as to what, exactly, she hopes to achieve in this convoluted appeal of flustered ideas and broken stories. She seeks to be a part of my home, yet she claims alliances and membership among a group I know not. She is, she was, she wants to be; ears dip back, eyes lay narrow, and I attempt to puzzle together the mystery that is Tor.
The more I see, the less I trust.
Kali stretches, growing bored with the conversation, and begins to chase the grasshoppers who think the springtime is the best time to emerge. She leaps beneath my barrel and I kick her softly, bumping her rump and sending her sprawling across the soft grass. She hisses, but is having fun; too playful for her own good, she abandons her grasshoppers and leaps for my mane, talons grabbing at the golden end and clinking against medallions hung about my neck. "Not now, Kali," I chastise, but my companion's enthusiasm is in truth rather welcome, for as Tor speaks again I dip my head to nip at Kali's wings, forelock shielding my eyes as thoughts and decisions race through a dark and winding mind. What shall I do with this one, this follower of Lace and seeker of family?
Her new tirade does nothing to alleviate my disease, but I do not get the chance to retort- no, one who is far more well-versed in the intricacies of social interaction has come to save me from that fate. Torasin's bulk of gold and cream is both a comfort and a concern. It has been some time since I saw the stallion my sister once held such affection for, and his very existence is something that troubles me slightly - but I suppose such will be the case with all of her suitors, no matter how long I live. Not that he has done much to endear himself to me in the time since. The stallion's foolish actions and cruel words at the behest of the Sun God are not something I have forgotten, but he has proven himself a true member of the Qian since. Still, the geniality of Torasin's voice, the open kindness and lack of questions, the blind trust and willingness to accept; it makes me cringe inside, and turn back to the pair with inquisitive eye and pursed lips.
I watch the interaction in silence, releasing Kali to go pursue Kiba, the ivory gryphon launching herself from the ground awkwardly and darting to the smaller companion's tree. Belatedly I realize that at some point she managed to steal my amulet of the Sun, and she holds it out to her peer excitedly. She, at least, seems to have forgotten the animosity that once hung between them. If only I could be so forgiving.
But now I am done listening. I am tired of this mare's contradictions, of the tales of history that speak against her own supposed devotion. Almost apologetically I snort, the voice of the mare still dying against the spring air. "I'm afraid I have to interject," are the words that escape the confines of blackened lips, quiet yet forceful. Neck draws up; authority, find authority. Eyes of coal turn to Tor, and there is no apology in my voice, no softness to shelter her from the harsh reality of my words. "I have heard you speak, and all I hear is inconsistency. You belong, you do not; you promise to stay as soon as you leave another. You claim to be a mercenary, and a healer, and a wanderer. In one breath you profess your difficulty settling and your confidence in your ability to stay. And-" and there is something else, something I have forgotten until now, a piece of this puzzle that still confuses "-you have been here before, but it was not of your own volition, was it?" Lace had stolen her. Mirage told me, and to this day I do not understand why he did it, but it adds to my irritation. The edge of my tone grows sharp.
I sigh. This girl should be grateful. Most can't get so many words from me in one go. Dimly I wonder if they will hate me now. Cruelly I realize that I care, and the realization hurts, and I push it away. Let them.
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| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
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Had the mare, the stygian black and dark, taken a personal dislike to Tor, or was she simply always like this? Tor didn't know and couldn't help a creeping feeling she was being examined, like the bird that had been trapped under the unicorn's hooves so many days ago, when she had come across him in the threshold. Then there was another unicorn... and another... and more and more horses had comes, flooding, as if drawn to the scent of blood and pain on the air.
It was hard for Tor to naturally dislike someone. It was difficult, indeed, for her to even become suspicious or wary of a horse. Secrets of herself were frequently in the air, should a horse ask for it, but she did not betray those trusted to her. It was one thing to reveal about oneself, but the stories of Ophelia's memory and Lei's lies were not hers to give, and so she had remained silent, and would continue to. But she found herself feeling shadowed, tied down by this mare who seemed so grim and silent, who could not let her simply join.
Is that all Tor wanted? To just join and be done with it? She found herself stung by this mare, the mare who drew herself up tall and stared out of black eyes. Not even Mauja had bothered her so much. Fear was one thing. This unfamiliar dislike was another. The only other horse she could find herself recalling to dislike was Psyche. That was it. The mare who had a mane of feathers and bones and a twisted horn that represented her skewed beliefs in unicorn superiority.
At least Torasin was there, a soothing gold presence. The draft felt relief in her, with the painted stallion kind, a healer of a similar nature. Yet she could not stop the ebon mare's voice from remaining regal and harsh. There is no gentle edge in that voice. It hurt. Tor found herself struggling to remain neutral, to remain polite and cordial as she always has. She did not betray it outwardly, but Tor was wondering what would happen if she simply said it was none of this mare's business and she knew several who would speak for her.
But she couldn't say that, so Tor allowed a moment of quiet, interrupted only by birdsong, before saying- "You do not know my reasons for leaving the Gray and they are my reasons alone." Do you always try to gain members by sticking your nose where it is not your place? "You do not know me and you question me when you have not even offered me your name. Does it not comfort you to see that one of your herd members welcome me?" Did it? Or was it meaningless to the mare that Torasin welcomed the draft, even if serious. "Should it be of comfort to you, I left my homeland not out of disloyalty, but because I was loyal. The land could support no more and so my father asked me, the eldest daughter, if I could leave." Why am I getting angry? Be polite! "I left and became a healer under the training of a mentor later killed." And don't bother asking who the mentor was. "I came to Helovia and became one of the Gray, as the head of healers. Now you question me and my wandering. Is it wrong of me to want to leave a mercenary group, when I could, perhaps, serve better in a herdland where several of those I have met before live?"
Of my own volition. Oh, how she puts it! Tor didn't raise her voice, or speak quicker, or anything at all to show how mild-quickly-growing-worse annoyance. "Yes, Lace wanted me to meet Mirage, and he did not know where to find me. If you don't want me, tell me. I would rather not share my whole life with a stranger." There. Straight and to the point. Tor only hoped this mare would just say get out or get in, and stop with bringing up memories she has only really just put behind her.
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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
| Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath
Chan |
LACE</style>
before the sun sets
GLORY
</style>
"I'm afraid that's not how it works, Tor" a mild voice said from behind, soon followed by the sound of quiet footsteps. As if summoned through the very mention of his name, the grulla appeared from the depths of the forest with the pale dragon perched on his back, busy picking through the silken mane; she looked up long enough to offer Kiba and Kali a brief greeting, but then returned to the preening.
Slipping into the group as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Lace paused by the side of the painted healer, eyes gentle and with a smile on his face.
"You of all should know that trust needs to be earned. You told me so yourself, not very long ago. Can you truly blame them for wanting to know more about the one who comes to our border and asks to let them into our midst? To graze beside us, sleep neck to flank, share our secrets... You're not the only one who have things to protect, my friend. "
A soft dark nose reached to touch her neck briefly, sensing the growing tension within the mare. Breathing a huff of warm air towards her skin, gilded eyes darted quickly towards Rishima and Torasin, silently asking them to lighten the pressure on the rouge lady for a moment. A simple glance, no more than a second; then his focus was back on Tor again with the smile intact.
"I don't want you to think that we're trying to drive you away. It is true that we need for this herd to grow larger, but precisely because of that we need to be all the more careful. What if someone sent in a spy to find out all our weaknesses, or try to lure our children away, or learn about our routines? I'm not saying that you would anything like that, but we need to consider all possibilities."
The look the Glazier gave his vagabond friend was kind and somewhat thoughtful. Trying to assess the mood of everyone around, he came to rest where he stood, hips lazily cocking to the side as he let the shoulder lean against a nearby tree. Unconcerned with the dragon who kept fiddling with the Earth Gods amulets hung across the neck and tied into the mane, he did what he could to relieve the tension that hung in the air, so thick it was almost palpable.
"Sometimes" he continued after a while of silence, "you have to give in order to get something. You say you want to become one of us, and that makes me happy. You're my friend, and I'm glad to know that you're interested in coming to this place... But in order to stay here, we need something from you, Tor. We need a promise that you won't disappear on us, we need to know as much as we can about you, who you have associated with and why you wish to come to this particular place. I know it might be hard to stick out your neck like this, but do you really think that me or Torasin will do anything to harm you?"
A faint hint of sadness crept into the voice as he spoke, paired with a faint hope and an encouraging smile directed straight at the draft. The expression remained calm even as he gave a brief jerk of the head towards Rishima.
"Now her I can't understand if you're scared of. Imposing, isn't she? I do hope that you'd be willing to consider answering a few of her questions, and perhaps send you on a bit of a test before we give you a definitive answer. Don't worry though, I'll protect you if she decides she wants to bite..." Sooted lips curved into a more lopsided smirk, and with humor glittering at the corner of the eyes, Lace offered their guest a wink, hoping she'd allow herself to relax a little.
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CREDITS: Schwartze | venomxbaby | 116802
♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden
| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 8 |
| imi |
at what speed must I live, to be able to see you again?
Torasin watched in surprise as the conversation continued without him, first Tor then Rishima and then Lace. It appeared the mare before him had in fact met more of his herd mates and made different impressions. Rishima seemed distrustful as always but the paint had to wonder. What exactly did the pitch mare want from Tor. Only time would prove her loyal, her actions would have to speak louder than her promises. There was nothing the Tor could say right now that would satisfy Rishima, it was a pointless conversation that went nowhere. A sigh threatened to leave his maw, it always seemed others knew more than he did and at the current situation it seemed he wasn't really needed.
A little confused on how he should continue he waited patiently until Lace had finished, stifling a laugh and holding back a wince at the grulla's final comment. Best not anger a mare like Rishima any further, Torasin still didn't know if he was forgiven in her books. Heck, Torasin didn't even know if he was ever in her good books. There was something different between Lace and Tor too, but the stallion couldn't put his hoof on it and gave up the thought.
The Moon Doctor gave the Glazier a nod of brotherly comradely and greatly appreciated his interjection. A tender, quiet trill of acknowledgement came from the mouth of Kiba to the white, Torasin could also feel the relief of his dragon to be in the company of his own kind and one who wouldn't attack him. With a flick of his creamy tail and a twitch of lobes the healer motioned to his brown and turned a little away from the group. "I'm a little out of the loop it seems, my opinion wouldn't really count for much in such a situation but I adhere to Lace. You will come to no harm from me ma'am, for now I must go attend to my duties." Kiba now landed smartly on his rump, curling his tail around himself and began cleaning his scales
Quietly, the Healer nodded to both Lace and Rishima, feeling a little like an ignorant bystander before heading off into the wood. Wondering how it would resolve... If it resolved at all.
[bah, so sorry for my lateness and for him leaving. I need to cut the number of threads im in and I didn't really think he could contribute much more to this c:]
& kiba
torasin
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how much more do I have to lose, before my heart is forgiven?
image by schwartze @ deviantart.com | table by phantom
| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
Bicker, they bicker, the youth of the world. They are strapping an ill informed and believe that they are always right, that they have the right to be right, that we should accept them on the merit of words that bear no weight against the test of knowledge and reality. I listen to her and my face stands still, a soft rigidity taking over elegant lines and distinguished poise. I hear myself speak, but do not feel the movement of lips: "Torasin's welcome is all that keeps me from sending you away, now." Hurt, anger, dry and miserable humor; how do I do this, entice such vivid streams of emotion from the world when all I want is to understand the meaning behind its facade? I glimpse at Torasin, and I wonder if he knows what I did not until a moment ago, that his trust and judgment do mean something to me- but I doubt he does. He probably cannot stand me, just as she cannot, just as so many seem to feel. You don't know me, I want to say, but don't.
I have seen so many fall.
She speaks, and her words wash over me with the credence of a lonely sun, warmth without comfort, feeling without conviction. Yell, if you are angry; prove to me I am unreasonable; but she does not. Instead a life story unfolds, a whisper of wandering and self-sacrifice. I don't care about your past. I care about who you are now. But this is what she has to offer, and perhaps I should give her a chance to escape the web of disconnect and contradiction she has so cleverly ensnared herself within. I listen, and I think, and then Lace arrives.
His voice is smooth and soothing, diplomacy clear through every syllable. It only adds to my heaping frustration and the hazy disappointment I feel with myself, the concern that I will never quite manage to endear myself to others, never successfully convince them that I am worthy of some vague amount of affection. Does it matter? Yes. No. Maybe. Who's to say? I shift my weight but the tension remains. Somewhere nearby, Kali is distracted by a caterpillar. A bird cries. The sun drifts westward, but not enough to herald the fall of evening.
I let Lace speak and hear the simple eloquence of his voice more than the words he says, and I watch him interact with the painted mare, and I wonder. Was that why she followed him, that night? Were they close, closer than perhaps the average friendship would suggest? Does she love him- she had been so jealous that night, had left as soon as I arrived. Does he love her back?
Does that matter to me? Somehow, it does.
Attention snaps back to the duo as Lace's tone shifts, and I am suddenly an indirect subject of his monologue. Dark eyes that have been distant grow sharp once more, and I frown. I've never thought of myself as imposing, and frankly, I can't see it. But fine, imposing is better than terrifying, or irrational. Against my will the ghost of a smirk pulls against coal-bitten lips. "I don't bite," is the dark response, less stilted than before but not without some reserve. "I leave that to Kali." As though on cue the brat lands squarely upon my hips, her snowy bodice still splattered with drying blood; curious blue eyes look over the large mare, and her tail twitches contemplatively. Too big food, she confides to myself and, I suspect, Lace. There is some amount of humor in her childish voice. Fajira helps?
Little barbarian. I ignore her.
"I don't have some great quest to send her on, Lace, although now that you mention it..." there's lilting amusement in my drawl, a warmth that I hate the stallion for drawing out. Fucking Lace and his good nature. I turn to look at Torasin, but he's disappeared- when? Why didn't I notice? Kali points out that she remembers, and I shake my head. I am growing unobservant in my old age, it seems.
Back to Tor, the problem child. Lace's speech has had the benefit of forcing me to relax, at least a little. He's managed to express my concerns with grace and diplomacy, two traits I have at no point in my life possessed, and I suppose I'm grateful to him for that. "Lace is right," I concede, nodding to him before returning to the mare. "I do not seek to drive you away. But you had not painted yourself in the most flattering light, and I..." I pause. Glance at Lace. Fine. I'll play nice. "My sister was stolen from us recently," I inform her curtly. "I have no desire to introduce even the potential of a repeat occurrence." And you don't sport the greatest resume.
I raise myself up, but this time I attempt to strike a pose that is less imposing. "If you will let me check your motives, I shall be satisfied. I have the ability to... skim, your intentions." I don't say that I can read her soul, her biology, her being. I have no desire to repeat that venture, for it's a rather traumatic experience all around. Besides, I suspect that the soul of this mare would be a simple, muddled thing, too confused for me to even hope to untangle.
Irritated and tired, I turn to Lace, glaring at the stallion... but I am not angry with him, not really. Nice enough? my eyes ask, more expression than usually trespasses across the delicate lines of coal. I am too wound up to be any nicer.
[ ooc || really sorry for the wait, and that Rishi's such a grump! And that it's really bloody long. x) ]
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| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
02-08-2013, 06:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-08-2013, 11:48 PM by Tor.)
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Too much was happening too swiftly. Things were so much less... complicated at home. You were born into the herd or father took you in; and you were expected to uphold the righteous codes of honor and loyalty, and you would bear that burden, and gift, with a smile worn upon your face until you moved on. Of all horses, Lace appeared, and his words were gentle yet in a way stern, much like a leader's words, she imagined. He spoke to her softly, and her stiffening body eased, and she nearly wept for sorrow.
How could she be muddling through so much? It was confidence she needed, collection, and yet it's so very difficult to dreg up, pull together into something; she quivers and wavers and stumbles, and right when she think she finally has pieced the puzzle together, she finds there is a piece missing. Tor wags her head, just a slight touch, as if dazed, or perhaps a wet dog shaking herself clean from the clinging touch of water; and closes her eyes briefly, inhaling the sweet spring air, with the sharp tang of strong ocean salt. It's a soothing scent, one that reminds her of the cold oceans where the waters were gray and turned to slush in the winter, a thick sort of silver sludge, where horses huddled with the caribou in order to stay warm and it was the one season of the year where the deer tolerated them in their midst, with their young. Whitefoot had known a bit of reindeer; it was complex to translate, mostly because they communicated through their massive antlers, but it got the message across they meant no harm.
Lace's muzzle brushed her, and the tension filtered away from clenched muscles, and she felt cleaner, more wholesome than before. Maybe it was just the mare that bothered her, in general; she seemed hidden, clouded, in a way that Tor could not explain. Like the dark side of the moon; unknown. His words were clean and collected, and they made sense quite unlike Tor's rambling. Relief and guilt both momentarily filled her mind. "You are right, of course. I don't know what's gotten into me as of late." The paint confesses, feeling more at a loss than ever as he moves away, amulets flashing in his mane. Not so much for him moving away; but for what he speaks.
Of giving and taking. "I'm sorry, I really am. I'm just... I don't know." Tor shifts slightly, tail whisking across her flanks (does she need to address the comment about Rishima? Is that important?) and she tilts her head back to look up at the trees. A bird flashes across the sky, followed by another, twittering like mad. They seem like clueless things, birds- perhaps that would be a blessing. "Well... I mean, I guess if you want me to do something, I'll do it. I just want a home." And a family not of murderers. Another little sigh escapes her lips. She certainly seems full of them these days, full of concerns and heart weighed down with manners that will not let her mind rest.
Tor wonders what Rishima means, persay, by... 'skimming her mind'. Can she read thoughts? Or is it the feeling behind it? But either way, it will be easier than speaking she is sure- "I am sorry for the loss of your sister; you are welcome to look within my intentions, for at least I feel it will convey myself better." Who is the dark mare's sister? Tor knows Mirage was stolen not long ago- but was Rishima really her sister?
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WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
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