the Rift


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Evangeline Posts: N/A
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#1

The Foothills were beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but it was not home. Home was in Isilme in the Woodlands that had sheltered her for many months. Blinded her from the sight of war as the equines and unicorns fought over the Tides, and blinded her from the sight of the original's foals as they destroyed everything. Home was where the Tome Guardian was, sitting in his castle as he waited for the next greedy mortal to come demanding magic of him. She missed the old ghost, as strange as it might seem to any who had visited him seeking magic. She had never gone to him wanting anything. She had only visited to meet him and once again to bring him a gift of apples since he seemed so bound to the ruins he'd lived in. He'd given her a gift, then. The gift of tree bending. A gift she'd lost in her mad dash from Isilme.

Standing in the shadows of the trees in the deep woods, Evangeline felt the most at home. It was not the same as the Woodlands. There was no giant hollowed out tree to sleep in and call home, but it was close enough. Tallis seemed to share her sentiment as he flew carefully between the trees, chirruping sadly. If she were home she'd probably be making this walk with Roanne, discussing strategy and diplomacy. The two of them had differed in every way possible. He had angered her terribly close to the end, but she still loved him dearly. She still missed him. It was disheartening, not seeing him in Helovia.

The copper mare sighed and looked up at Tallis as he curved around a tree and flew back to her. He landed on her back carefully, only gripping her hide with his claws for a few seconds. "I miss home, Tallis." She told the dragon. "Home." He echoed her sadly.


Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#2



       Young colt isn't so defective anymore- isn't so little, either. He gallops atop strong pillars and cuts the Deep Woods' breezes with a thickly built form. His father's bridle hangs more tightly upon his features; even feels tight in a few places. Beside him runs a fully healed pup by the name of Manhattan, her tail whipping behind her madly, her lips parted to expose a dark pink tongue and create the expression of a grin. For the first time in either of their lives, they feel joy. They chase each other through the place he was born and the place he considers his home. They play games of fetch with every loose stick that graces the forest floor, they run through patches of leaves dried by the Tallsun heat and stir up the creatures of the forest with their racket. They call out into the open air with reckless abandon, filling the woods with wild echoes of traded barks and whinnies. They leave pawprints and hoof marks in the soft forest floor, they leave a clear path behind them, and have no care in the world.

After his second visit to the corpse of his father, the bridle had choked him and flooded him with memories of the Sentinel's life. The Deep Woods had ever since reminded him of the great Woodlands and those his father had loved and protected there. He had longed ever since that day to meet some of those his father had watched over; to hear the sweet words of Evangeline and experience himself the seductive nature of Giselle. And he longs, too, to see the land his father had left behind.

He now experiences life in a different manner. He knows no wicked whispers in his mind, breathes the forest air as if it is a tonic that brings him life, and runs with Manhattan and knows that what he feels for her is that strange emotion described to him by the deformity in that frozen cave- love. He feels it strike his heart each time he gazes upon his companion.

And then, once more, at the sight of the chestnut mare and her all too familiar dragon.

He considers the experience he has had to be unusual, but despite the drastic change it has stirred within him, he manages to lack all social cues. He wishes to call out, but should he really say her name? How strange it would be to her to see a colt like himself for the first time and hear him speak her name. No, better to say something formal. Like Miss. Or perhaps M'am? He wasn't sure which was the most polite of the two.

Miss, he decided as he strode forward at a slow trot. "Hello there Mi-" he began, until realizing that, no, perhaps m'am was the correct greeting, and continuing to form a broken word of seemingly his own invention. "-m. Have we met before? You and Tallis seem... familiar."

He speaks the orange's name without realizing, thus ruining his attempt to enter subtly. His head cocks to the side with a childish curiosity, and by his hooves Manhattan settles into the ground and presses herself against him for support as she pants wildly.

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Evangeline Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#3

Evangeline swung her head around as Tallis alerted her to his and his companion's arrival. Green eyes landed upon a familiar looking colt and his companion, though what caught her attention the most was the bridle that hung over his face. There had been only one other that she had seen wear something like that. "Roanne.." No, this colt was much too young to be Roanne. There had been a little surge of hope, but it was dashed away by the realization that he wasn't the stallion she'd hoped to find roaming the woods. Maybe she just needed to give up looking for him just as she had given up looking for Ruske and Ciryas.

They were all gone.

"Hello." She replied, her stomach knotting at the usage of 'Mim' by the young colt. That was Roanne's word. Sadness washed over her, but she forced it aside and put a smile on her face. "Mim." She repeated him. More than anything that word stuck out to her. Even more so than Tallis' name, which she quickly dismissed because she had called him by his name only moments before. "It's been a long time since I've heard anyone say mim."

A moment later Eva shook her head. "No, I don't believe we've met before but you seem famiiar to me, too." She held her ground as she looked the colt over, thinking more and more to herself that he looked like Roanne. Could they be brothers? It would explain the bridle, wouldn't it? "Where did you get that bridle from?"

[oh, Tallis is an orange not a bronze -snuggles-]


Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#4



       Young colt isn't surprised when she finds him familiar- he has been told he looks much like his father. He wonders some days if he acts like him as well- perhaps this mare can tell him that. She seems to know much of his father, seems to feel much for him as well. He sees pain flit across her gaze and wonders what pain of emotion feels like himself; had his father ever felt it? Surely he must have, any with a life as troubled as Roanne's was certain to have known loss and pain.

His mind refocuses as she mentions the bridle, and he tosses his head to show off the white leather straps that bind across his features and adorn him with splendor. "It belonged to my father, and his brother before him," Knox replied, his lips curling up as he saw the faint recognition appear in the mare before him. Perhaps merely the mention of the bridle would spark the memory of Roanne for her- but, maybe, just to be certain... no, he would say more. "I am Knox, born of the late Sentinel and Mandrake," he says with a nod of affirmation as he assures himself that he speaks correctly. At his hooves, Manhattan presses her head against his hocks and whines softly, looking up at him with the wide blue eyes of a child and the convincing, undeniable look that all puppies seem to possess. "And this is Manhattan," he adds with a light whinny and a grin, reaching down to softly nuzzle his companion near the occiput. In turn she turns her head up to greet his nose with her own, and a long, quick pink tongue slides out from between her jaws and swipes across his nose.

Quickly then, he turns his gaze back to the Pure and gives her an expectant look as he waits for her reaction and subsequent introduction. He casts Tallis a brief, friendly look, as if the two have already met and are on quite good terms. Between the two is a general air of pleasantry and familiarity; Knox basks in the unfamiliar and new emotion.

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Evangeline Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#5

"I am Knox, born of the late Sentinel and Mandrake."

"The... the late Sentinel?" She felt sick to the very pit of her stomach. Her heart felt like it had leapt from her chest and left a gaping hole. She shook her head and Tallis seemed to wilt under the news. She could hope that the Sentinel that the child spoke of was not the Sentinel she had ruled the Woodlands with, but that would be foolish. As a young filly she had come to the conclusion that hope was a foolish thing to have. Roanne and Validino and even Ruske had slowly taught her that maybe hope wasn't such a bad thing, but now it was blowing up in all of their faces. Everything was suddenly so very wrong.

The copper mare forced herself to regain her composure and settled her emerald gaze on the Sentinel's son. "I am Evangeline the Pure. I ruled the Mystic Woodlands of Isilme with your father." It seemed like it was forever ago that she'd found him wandering around in the Gateway. He'd risen so fast and had come so far. His was a friendship she had truly valued even when she thought him stupid for being blinded by lust and trying to change a mare who was racist to her very core.

"It.." Evangeline paused and cleared her throat before speaking again. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Knox. And Manhattan." She said to the retriever at his side. She became quiet then, having nothing more to say and wanting nothing more than to disappear into the woods to mourn the death of one of her closest friends.


Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#6



       Young colt speaks of his father and sees recognition mixed with despair, perhaps even remorse, flicker in the sweet mare's eyes. He sees their bright green and senses a sadness stirring within is own breast as he feels a strong emotion towards her that he senses is not his own. Mother would scorn him for expressing sympathy in any form, for practicing acts other than the hunt and for exercising emotion other than hate. Lately he has felt himself less connected to mother, however.

Manhattan has helped significantly. The retriever who rests steadily at his side is a constant that there is love in this world, and that he is at last experiencing, and perhaps understanding it. She leans agains him now, her paws planted firmly in the soil but her mind floating far above them as she contemplates her short life and the happiness that she feels when she looks into the eyes of her master. She feels what he starts to feel now as he looks over Evangeline. She speaks and tells him what he already knows. He knows more of the detail than she seems willing to offer, but he pays it no mind.

Instead he takes a gentle step forward with one hoof only, so as not to disturb his companion, and nods with a warm smile across his velvet lips. "And you as well, Evangeline, despite the fact that it feels as if I have known you for so long," he comments sagely, letting his blue-gray gaze rise to match up with hers. Curiosity climbs into the conversation and his ears perk forward as it occurs to him that of all those he has known, Evangeline is perhaps the best suited to tell him of his father and even perhaps stick by his side. "I am sorry to bring you such bad news," the colt speaks with condolence, realizing the courtesy that he has failed to acknowledge, like most other appropriate social cues. "He was special to you? He asks with wonder and respect in his eyes. He knows how much Evangeline had meant to his father, he wonders if she had felt the same.

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