"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.
Andromeda ascended gracefully, her wings stroking heavily downwards, the air thick as syrup underneath her ink-dark feathers. The struggle against gravity was not always easy, not always seamless and fluid, no matter how experienced one may become in the future, and the starry-coated mare was well-weathered in the art of flight. Why? The sky was a wild cat, large and languid and loving to bathe in the warm of the sun, but a predator; she was unpredictable and wily and when she bared her teeth and lashed her tail, all pegasi knew a storm was coming, a storm that would hid the heavens and strike the red earth with a bite of lightning that would scorch the earth black with soot. Up and up she climbed, wings twisting as they dragged her up into the realm of the pale blue heavens, to the graceful arching halls and swirling spires of clouds. Soon enough the earth turned small beneath her, the world so gracefully patched in reds and greens and blues.
Andromeda may not like the desert when she stood upon its red sand, but from up here, it looked spectacular, sharp and bright, vibrant.
Inhale and exhale she did, the mid-morning air crisp in her lungs. This morning she had awaken unusually late, due to an exceptionally late night. Even now exhaustion scratched at her eyes, but for the sake of her herd and for her responsibilities, she began her regular flying rounds around the Throat, gliding low as to avoid the other pegasi who soared about this time of bright, dewy morning. Once the rounds were completed, she stiffened out her wings, and began her descent to the lake, where she planned to bathe her feathers until they were glossy once more, rather than dust and dirt.
Twice her wings crimped up, twisted and curled strangely, due to an odd patch of cool air, before she rearranged her feathers and managed herself again. Nearing the end of her descent towards the red soil she so despised, she flared her great wings, backpedaling with quick, light strokes as to maintain her speed, hind feet resting on the earth before her fores fall, splashing into the cool water and sending gleaming droplets up onto her deep onyx coat.
With a gentle hum the mare entered, flicking her wings in and out of the water joyfully, preening at her feathers carefully, pulling the clotted grit and dirt out, entering chest-deep into the cold waters, plunging her head deep to toss it up, shaking out her dark mane. Its crisp, freezing temperature awoke her from the lethargy of this brisk Orangemoon morning. Sadly did she reflect that in only a week or so, to leap into the lake would be to invite hypothermia upon yourself. Winter was coming.
05-04-2013, 09:52 PM (This post was last modified: 05-04-2013, 09:57 PM by Gaucho.)
Gravedigger, when you dig my grave can you make it shallow? So that I can feel the rain..
One such as Gaucho, was rarely at ease. He had never learned to simply be; to chill-out. His mind was far too simplistic to grasp relaxation. As such, he was almost always up and about, making him the ideal solider in more than just his ability to unquestioningly follow orders. Although it was not his patrol, Gaucho had taken to the skies as the sun spilled over the horizon, flooding the Throat with a shower of light and colour. In place of relaxation or pleasantries with the residents of the Throat, Gaucho preferred to guard and patrol. His lack of proper communication skills made conversing with his herd-family quite difficult. He often found himself frustrated, in his own simple way, when his messages were not properly received. On some level, he understood that there was a disconnect between the meanings he intended to be received, and what others heard, but unfortunately he did not have the skills, or the tools, to bridge the gap. Of course, certain messages he was able to convey physically, but many failed to see past his rugged visage, and primitive appearance. And so, Gaucho watched, and Gaucho protected the herd who had become his family. He would fight for them, and would die for them if needed - and that alone, was all they needed to know of him.
High above, Gaucho's impressive black wing-span gently buffeted against the warm currents of air. Unlike almost any other area of Helovia, the Throat was almost always warm, and provided ample thermals for gliding. Mara, his snake companion, was still nestled tightly in his antlers; being a cold blooded creature, she was less mobile in the early morning, regardless of how unseasonably warm the Throat was. Down below, his stormy gaze was re-directed by a flash of light, glistening off droplets of water. His mind recalled an image of a blue/black pegasus, who he had 'played' with (if you can call it that), in those very waters. Back? he wondered idly, as he allowed himself to tilt forward and angle his body towards the ground. As he descended, although the morning was not yet brightly lit, he concluded that no, this was not the bird-mare he had encountered earlier. This was another...He had seen her somewhere before...
SsssSSssSssss Mara hissed drowsily, sending him a mental image of the recent herd-meeting. "She talk lot" Gaucho mumbled to Mara, recognizing Andromeda now. They had all talked a lot during that meeting; save for Gaucho of course. He hardly had the time to pin down the words as they had been said. All he remembered was threat and protect. And indeed, since that meeting, Gaucho had been solely placing himself in a variety of spars, and patrolling the borders. Dutifully, the bay glided even lower - although it was not his patrol now, it was his duty as a soldier to report in to his superiors.... even if they were taking a bath.
Gaucho lowered himself onto the sands with an uncanny grace for a creature his size. Folding his wings neatly to his muscular sides, the bay turned towards his bathing Sargent, and moved in her direction. Gaucho's face was ruggedly handsome, despite the rather feral addition of the bone piercing his nose, and the tribal marking on his eye. His mane was luxuriously long, and surprisingly untangled, as it fell to his shoulders, partially masking the collar of sharpened bone-spikes that he wore for battle. As he neared, the stallion grunted unceremoniously, to make his presence known. Stoically, he regarded Andromeda with a masked stare, revealing little emotion, and remained silent. As he waited, he seemed completely unburdened by the potentially intimate or personal moment that he may have been interrupting, and continued to let his stormy gaze wander over Andromeda's features, with a decidedly masculine interest.
05-05-2013, 01:31 PM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2013, 01:32 PM by Andromeda.)
Do I find it somewhat startlingly, skin-crawling, and disturbing to shift my gaze upwards to find a stallion a full hand taller than me watching me with primitive eyes, painted in rugged earth and bloody hands, antlers curling up from his huge skull, impressively large? Naturally, I do. Immediately my flesh shivers, quivers over my skin, but I do recognize the stallion of my herd, and I do know his ferocious loyalty, even if I have hardly met him myself; I do not think the gooseflesh under my thickening, obsidian coat is solely from the bitter chill of the water piercing me to the bone. Even so, if there is one thing I immediately enjoy under his sharp gaze it is the way he does not speak. No greetings, no polite words, no sentences carefully woven from the cumbersome, hefty talk. It would be nice if most meetings were like this, I muse, as I flick my wings out of the water, and step out on the rough rocks bordering the lake, soon to be overtaken by yellowing grass. I shake myself briskly, as if a dog, sending a cascade of shining water droplets flying through the air, and then I step on. The pebbles massage my feet as I near him, stopping a few feet away from his mass.
I notice a snake in his antlers, looped neatly, and once more I wonder about companions, wondering if I would ever take one, just as I questioned myself when I met my fellow sergeants.
I smile at him, sincerely so, and near Gaucho further, reaching out to his tall dark withers, and I begin to carefully comb at the hair with my teeth, dearly hoping the grand stallion wouldn't take this as some sort of sexual contact, for I certainly don't wish to leap into a stallion trying to mount my backside. Of course, I think it would be easy to give a good kick in the guts, possibly cause internal damage, but he's my comrade, to complicate things if it came to smashing at him if he reared up. For a moment I wonder how frivolous these thoughts are, and I try unsuccessfully to imagine Kri's expression if I were to tell her I accidently led on a herd member, and now I needed a pregnancy leave. To be honest, I... no, I truly cannot imagine what she may say. I have a niggling feeling she would be a touch more than vexed in such a matter. If I were to have a mate? I think she would respect that, but I can't imagine falling in love. Romance seems so, well, fluffy. I am still young, I suppose, only six years of age, turning seven come the warmth of spring.
I arch my neck, angling my body away from the dangerous spiked collar, my teeth roaming along down to his spine, careful to avoid the accidental plucking of any of his long, warm earth feathers. Forget those thoughts, I decide. There would be plenty of time to settle down in the future. For now, I should focus on my duties as a herd member and sergeant.
Gravedigger, when you dig my grave can you make it shallow? So that I can feel the rain..
As the mare exits the waters, Gaucho is slightly startled to find that she is tall. Taller than Levi, even. Thus far, most of his associates in the Throat, are tiny compared to him: Kri, My-dus, Aryel, Vesta, and Sohalia, barely even come up to his shoulder. And yet, here striding out of the waters, comes a mare who looks like she could easily bear his weight (if you know what I mean). Flaring his bone-pierced nostrils, Gaucho bore her gentle touches patiently, even enjoying the feeling of her teeth against his wither as they gently pulled on his dark mane. Twisting his great head around to the side, he returned the gesture, allowing his bone to trace along her spine. Mares in the past had enjoyed this feeling - the oddly foreign sensation of the smooth bone, massaged between their body, and his warm mouth. Even still, as a certain lustiness grew within, his primitive mind forced the feeling down and far away. As he traced the lines of his wither - his lips gently feeling the contours of her body - he considered the upcoming tournament, assuming that she would partake in the event. It was for that reason, that he bid his desires away, for even though she was tall, he had been known to leave bruises in the past. Therefore, he would consider his sexual appetites no more, in light of the pairings of spars which were to take place. And who knows, perhaps he would have the opportunity to tango with her in a different way, then.
Knowing that her continual nibbling would only make it harder to resist the natural urges well deep within his belly, Gaucho sighed softly in her arched neck, before pulling away. Flexing his great black wings slightly, he folded them neatly to his sides, before looking up towards the morning sky. "Rain." He observed casually, his voice rich and resonant as he spoke. At the word, Mara hissed within his antlers, and, grabbing a piece of mane in her mouth to cover her head with, buried herself away in his antlers. Casting his stormy gaze back down at her, he let his eyes roam over her approvingly, once again. "You tall. Others short." He remarked, almost sounding inquisitive as he noted her height.,
I relax, enjoying the serene moment, the gentle pressure along my spine and muscles as he grooms me with exorbitant skill, and I resist the urge to lean into him as my muscles go slack and soft, reverting from the usual tautness and pulled tightness. It is these little, idle moments in life I hold dear to me, so long and yet so pitifully short, graceful and beautiful, where everything around me is no longer gently blurred by time and worries and the problems of a worried mind, but so sharp and neat, sparkling like diamonds even despite the dimming lighting as the clouds above continue their imperious march. Sometimes I wish I could toss out the bad and hold these precious seconds close to my heart. But I cannot, for the bad times define us. They characterize us by the way we handle them. One can only truly see another's real personality in the moments were all seems hopeless and futile; and without the bad, in any case, there would be no good times without the contrasting emotions.
I feel the stallion pull away from me and for a moment some part of me wants to go chasing after him and continuing the precious bonding ritual more instinct than mere thought. But I refrain, and instead smile lightly at his handsome face. Closer now, I see less of the primitive monster and more of the civilization. My vision I narrow, to seeing his face and strength, the windcatcher strewn between his powerful antlers. I wonder if he is naturally a hybrid, or if they are not; somehow they don't seem quite like they grew from his skull. Then again, I have seen few stags in my life, so they are quite likely to be real. The snake I vaguely noticed earlier I take sharper note of now; a coiled white slippery thing, with dark eyes on a pale face. Just the look of the snake looks quite lethal, and I reject the feeling to shudder, even when my skin crawls. I shift my gaze downwards, to his eyes, and let a warm smile appear on my face, finding myself mildly surprised to enjoy his company so.
My initial sense of his... more simple-mindedness appears true when he grunts his words like a rather ungainly, wiry-haired boar, and I feel it necessary to introduce myself. However, my name is long, and while elegant, I feel he might just accidently butcher it trying to pronounce it. Yet in any case, I should give him the chance. But first, I should let him say what presses on his mind, and I avoid the insistent pull on my mouth to laugh gently when he pronouces me tall and others short. Yet without sarcasm, for I have no desire to hurt his feelings, I say, "I'm tall. You're taller." I pause, inhale, and exhale, and move on, not commenting on the rain even when I notice the first drops beginning to fall. "I am Andromeda. An-dro-med-a." I enunciate the syllables carefully, and wait patiently for it he tries to repeat it back.
I'm tall. You're taller - At her words, Gaucho nodded gravely, as if she had just made an extremely prophetic and wise statement. However, as she spoke her name, his mood visually drooped. Well, she might not be short, as the other mares, but she certainly shared the attribute of having an unimaginably difficult name to pronounce. Patiently, he listened, staring at her lips as she formed the word, and then again as she sounded out the syllables. Frustration began to well within his simplistic mind, as already the clear way she had spoken, began to slip from his mind. Words just didn't seem to stick. Flaring his nostrils, the bay took a moment to compose himself, before making his first attempt.
"An-" He began tentatively, looking down at her somewhat unsurely. as if for confirmation. "An-ddd-dd-drah-mee-da" He finally managed, grinning with pride. In his antlers, Mara hissed affectionately, and looped herself down around his shoulders, to get a better view of the darker mare, who had captured his attention. Her dark eyes stared at Andromeda without emotion, as her forked tongue flicked in and out, capturing her scent. Mara was amongst the most deadly types of snakes to ever roam Helovia, and was almost certainly the fastest. She had aided him in battle a few times now, regardless of her youth. Now however, she appeared docile, and interested in Andromeda. Inquisitively, she sent a picture of Aryel's bat, who she had been interested in eating the first time Gaucho brought the two of them together. She reinforced the image with a feeling of hunger, asking Gaucho if Andromeda had a companion too.
Slowly, after comprehending Mara's message, Gaucho raised his large head up, as if to look on the top of Andromeda's head, and behind her ears. With an unsatisfied snort, he returned his stormy gaze to hers. "You have someone?" He inquired somewhat vaguely, making it impossible to tell if he meant a mate, or a companion.
This time I did not stop myself from chuckling softly at his so-serious nod, the sobriety of his face, for all the world having the solemnity of the dead. My laugh is gentle, just a whisper among all the loudness of the world, and quite suddenly I shake my entire body, sending fat drops of water scattering into the heated wasteland air.
The smile stutters and fades on my face as his brow seems to tighten, frustration, but slowly it strengthens as he restores what seems his faith and confidence with the syllables he puts back to me. My smiles widens, no longer a fluctuating thing, and I sigh happily. It is then, out of the blue, that I realize how strangely calm I feel around this stallion, how the more difficult thoughts and tactics and bits and bobs that float around my skull seem to fade, leaving my mind a blank expanse filled with green grass. Sometimes I do wonder if emotions are contagious. When others puff out their chests and lift their sparkling eyes their confidence seems to catch; when ears pin and hooves lash, more and more do as well; sometimes even my quietness seems to catch on others, and I find those of the herd speak less. Perhaps the simplicity of the stallion's thought whisper to mine as well, easing them away. "Yes," I laugh joyfully once more, wishing to dance closer to this stallion and play as two children would, in such a strange childish mood.
But I am six years old, and much too old for such silliness.
Initially, I stiffen at the next questions posed to me, but then I shake it off. It was just a simple question, but to be truthful as I record this in my memory, I did believe he was asking about my love life. "No." I answer, slowly and honestly. "You?"
Gaucho nodded almost expectantly, as she replied no, to his question of having a companion. Even to his primitive mind, it made sense. Since stumbling upon Mara's egg at the beginning of Tallsun, he had not been without her presence, even for a moment. Of course, there were times where she would place herself at a reasonable distance from him, should the need arise, but never were they apart. Gaucho, who had never been in love before, often wondered, in his own simple way, if that was what was between himself and his snake. She aided him in battle, and he provided her the warmth to keep her cold-blood moving in her beautiful gun-steel white skin. Was that love? Mutual benefit? As these thoughts passed through his mind, Mara hissed ambiguously, pressing her forked tongue against the soft hairs of his ear. And so, it made sense in terms of a companion, that Andromeda has answered no, for there were no creatures lurking within their immediately vicinity, that Gaucho was aware of.
You? Almost comically, Gaucho stared at the dark mare for a moment, his steely gaze blinking as if confused - which he was. Flaring his nostrils, his tossed his head slightly, causing Mara to reposition herself in his antlers. "Gaucho have Mara." He replied as if this was obvious, his reply answering both implications. There had been mares in his past...and most recently, there had been Ampere and Sohalia, each engaging him in different amounts of playful flirtatious behaviour, but was there more? Gaucho was a primitive creature by nature, driven by lust and pro-creative urges rather than emotional ones. One might wonder if that had more to do with his inability to communicate verbally, rather than an emotional stuntedness.
Flicking his tail around his hocks, he blew softly through his nose, causing a whistling sound to be created, as the air curved around the bone there. As sunlight bloomed across the horizon, Gaucho's gaze fell upon Andromeda's lean yet muscular build, approvingly. Without a hint of shyness or 'proper' etiquette, he let his gaze roam further along her body, noting not for the first time, how similar their builds were. Gaucho was far more muscular than she, given the hours he devoted to training, and yet the basic shape of their bodies was quite similar. He noted with intrigue, how the lighter patches of her shoulders and leg almost appeared golden, as the mornings light casted a reflected orange glare, from the red sands upon which they stood.
"Pretty." He remarked, offhandedly, as his gaze continued to fall upon her wings and neck, until finally they returned to meet her gaze.
Companions have become, recently, rather a something of intrigue to me. Call me strange for my sudden and growing mild curiosity of them; but it seemed everywhere I looked, there was one accompanying a member of a Throat! Zephyr, panda, snake, dog... so many. I did have to wonder why, exactly, these little animals held so much appeal. To have to be in constant presence of another, to have to be emotionally tied so strictly to one, seemed terribly restricting, especially in the early days where the animal would need constant watch and constant care, and if a predator, probably needing help hunting. At the same time, it did appear that Gaucho liked his snake. I watched as the white being reached out for his ear, forked tongue flickering out.
I observed- a rough word to use, for it implies an emotional detachment when in honesty I was attentive and caring for this horse of few words- the sudden confusion in his steely eyes, and inwardly sigh, outwardly swish my tail lazily, wondering if I will ever interpret his words correctly, for it seemed already I had made one or two mistakes in understanding. Or perhaps it was the other way around- I said the right thing, and he the wrong. As terribly philosophical as these thoughts were, I rather quickly buried them, instead trying not to tilt my head in confusion. Did he mean, by 'Mara', mares? Was it a mispronouciation? Surely the large stallion knew how to pronouce mares, however. Was the toss of his head to signify the snake looped elegantly on his head and antlers? Was the snake Mara? A girl then? Perhaps the topic was best dropped altogether, quizzical as I might be about this general idea, and stowed away.
I made no further comment about the pairing sort of thing.
Then his gaze dropped from his face and in excruciating slowness crept over my body, the voluptuous feminine curves and the lighter, more lithe build, the wings elegantly stored upon my back. Is it necessary to speak of my... my... inexperience with a stallion's attention on my sooty body, my charcoal hips and star-splattered shoulder? I resist the urge to recoil from his eyes, instead standing stoicly and letting myself compare to him. We are actually of very familiar build, although he has a deeper chest and heavier muscle beneath his dark skin. I wonder if he is from the same sort of stock as I; Hanoverian, dressage-like warmblood in build. But naturally we cannot leave it at that, and so he utters but a single word that makes me feel rather flushed and sweaty all over, as if I am wearing my winter coat in the summer. I want to drop my gaze but I can't. "Um..." I say, so brilliantly. Have I mentioned my lack of experience on these treacherous grounds?
If he noticed any uncomfortableness on her part, he didn't show it. This should lead you to believe that he simply didn't notice - for Gaucho is not the sort of creature who masks his observations, or is even aware of enough social norms to know when one ought to overlook certain things. In that sense, he is wholly genuine, having never misconstrued or mislead another of his intentions. Even now, as his eyes roam over Andromeda's delicate form, he makes no attempt to mask the lusty interest in his eyes, or the flaring of his nostrils as he draws in her scent. What may, or may not come as a surprise, is just how skilled Gaucho is, when it comes to the delicate art of mares. He had been with a surprising many over the years he has wandered prior to Helovia, though he has never been in love, and no one has ever loved him. He is simply a means to fill a void in most cases - His ruggedness and primitive appeal seem to provide a comfort to mares feeling unattended by their loves, and his scars and rougher-edges seem to entice and captivate the younger mares, looking for excitement. Were Gaucho to understand the motives which drove mares to him, he likely would not mind, for he was using them in precisely the same way they were using him. Gaucho, like any simple-minded creature, adored beautiful things, for the way they inexplicably gleamed and shined. Further, procreation, given his admirable blood lines, was never a bad thing either.
"Gaucho in turn-ment soon" He advised, changing the subject with a flick of his dark tail. He recalled Azzuen's death, and how a great wind had fallen upon them, and a strange bird...It was both beautiful and frightening, and yet the great warrior had provided strength to Gaucho in a spar with Note only days after. Although he had not known the previously General well, he felt proud to have his battle-strength aid him, if only for a single spar. Gaucho did not dwell on the logistics of the Tournament - who he would spar and where - he was prepared to have it come as a surprise, in the middle of the night even, for that would be the best way to see if his skills were where they needed to be. "Gaucho protect Throat. Protect family." Therein, in that short choppy sentence, was the crux of Gaucho's every decision, and every motive. He was here for them. And although he couldn't articulate it, what he could do, was stand watch and protect them with every ounce of strength he had.
I ruffled my wings mildly, trying to contain the heat lingering in my chest and creeping along all over my body, and modestly did I downcast my eyes upon my audits hearing the deep inhales and exhales of him breathing in my scent, and flippantly did I wish I could leave somehow, make way politely and withdraw. His eyes still seem to linger on my lighter form, a fact that, truthfully makes me quite shy, but still soon it will come to an end, I'm sure, and if it does not, I'm not quite sure what I will do. For him just staring at me makes me distinctly uncomfortably for extended periods of time. Perhaps a nice flight would ease my frivolous mind.
I am not Gaucho. To a degree, I am more similar to him than our different intelligence capacities would compare. In a way, my modesty turns out to be very like his peace of mind. My composure and quiet, short words, and typical facial expressions, are rather like his difficulty with forming syllables. I wonder if he wishes he could speak easier, if he could coherently form the words better, or maybe even the thought train. A slight crease marks my forehead. Well, that was just incredibly mean of me. Who knows why he was this way? He was made to be this way.
My head tilts subtly as I listen to him. I remembered him boldly declaring his entrance, and I consider this carefully. Somehow, I'm not sure how he would do as general. Certainly he is an able fighter, but the general also needs wits...
Somehow I feel my mind is running and circles, and I puff out my cheeks in mild annoyance. "Would you like to practice? Spar with me?" I ask nonchalantly.
His nostrils flared with each breath, and yet his features and expression did not change, as Andromeda quietly lost herself in thought. Gaucho was good like that - patient, nonjudgmental, and driven by instinct, which usually made him pretty easy to read. Indeed - as her mind cleared and returned to him, and she casually offered to spar, a light suddenly ignited in his stormy gaze. Eyes, normally so vague and without intellect, lit up with a child-like enthusiasm, as an honest and eager smile over took his brutish features. Pearly white teeth parted his dark lips, revealing what a ruggedly handsome creature Gaucho truly was. "Gaucho spar." He replied immediately, his voice deep and resonant, laced with an obvious excitement. "Spar And-raw-mee-dah" - Clearly he wanted this, he even went so far as to try and repeat her name, just to prove it.
Extending his muzzle gently, he nudged her shoulder, leaving his velvety lips pressed against her shoulder for just a moment longer than normal and exhaling softly, before pulling away, and turning on his hind end with surprising grace. Retreating a few feet, he once again twirled in the dusty sands of the Throat, to face her, keeping the lake on his left. With one last look of glee, his gaze suddenly hardened somehow, and his face dissolved into a mask of masculine concentration. His steely gaze, which not so long ago lustily traced the outlines of her body, now fixedly rested upon her, taking her in now, with a renewed purpose. Steadily, he lowered his antlered brow, and extended his massive black wings, as if beckoning her towards him.
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[O] soldiers lined up like knives in a cutlery drawer [gaucho]
