"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
the ocean's touched the beach with a lover's rage, crashing, pressing it's liquid flesh with a frothy
foam unto the submissive beach. the sands did not complain, did not scream their pain,
as the wave's pummeled it's surface. the night sky had been enraged, rain falling down to the
sands and turning them into a damp, grainy, sticky mud. a deeper shade then before, it left
trails in the earth of hooves and made it's presence known by gripping the dark
equine who now strolled upon the beach as if for all the world the rain did not
bother her. it slicked her coat with chill, her already metallic glow prominent
and giving her apparel a reflective sheen. droplet's curled along her side and down her belly,
dripping to the sands below.
a faint shiver rang along her spine, down her legs, causing her skin
to ripple along the length of her bodice. as she came to the edge of the ocean,
where the sea broke and created form of it's own, she breathed in the salty
spray. it caressed her, the wind and the rain, and she took a deep
lungful oxygen; regardless of the sting along her throat.
the waves washed her, cleansed her of her unrighteousness,
and the shade bathed in it's gloriousness without moving a pillar.
she is like the rain, she thinks, as lightning strikes in the distance
and illuminates the thunderheads. it sharply glows in the reflection of her adorned crown,
and she allows the lids of her orbs to slide shut in the almighty presence from above.
the sky roars, as if it is being ripped apart, and she still moves not a muscle.
she is at peace.
and she is wallowing in her own memories. here she has found refuge, with the asylum,
with the curious equine she calls the white general. she is a shade.
but yet, she feels so distant from her kingdom. she feels, and so she is truly
cursed. it is like the peasants said.
she is a witch, without her magic, a witch sent to cause chaos
and relish in the pain of the whole.
sometimes she thinks she should be burned at the stake. other's, she considers herself a blessing.
the wind howls in her harks, and she lowers them to avoid the sensation's, for once in her
life. she is a curse.
it breaks across her mind again and again, a lash of the whip,
and a.. longing grows in her chest. she wants to be worth it.
she doesn't want to be considered a witch.
and though she scolds herself for these thoughts, she cannot help them.
sometimes they come to her, like this, and she goes away to collect herself, she is compromised,
emotionally with demons that haunt her like wolves. she is weary sometimes of their chase,
grows frail and fragile like the delicateness of end branches on a tree.
but there is a large difference, she thinks, as she remains a statue against the angry
winds of the beach. there is a difference between her and the storm, her and the ocean,
there is a difference between she and the wind.
they are purity, they are lullabies to sing to children in the midst
of the night, and though the wind sees all, it is divine, it is worthy
to be part of the earth and it's clashing elements.
FOR ALL IS NOT ALWAYS FAIR IN BOTH LOVE AND WAR..</style>
I had been walking on my own for some time now. I didn’t quite entrust myself to company just yet. The abhorrent ones were still lurking so close to the surface of my carcass. They were still ever present within my dial, whispering their disgust at my honest intentions and my kind words. ’lily livered bastard’ one hissed violently in my ears, causing me to grumble out loud as I trudged forwards. I refused to let them to get the better of me, not this time, and hopefully not ever again.
I wanted my life back. I wanted this torment between the two sides of me to end before I was literally torn in two by my lurking darkness. I wanted to one day to no longer belong to the clutch of the crazies known as the asylum. I wanted to live my life without something whispering distastefully in my ear. I wanted a chance at life, at love, at happiness. That was all I had ever wanted in the first place, not the constant battles. I had been on the battle field since the day I was born, whether literally or mentally. I was bone tired and if this continued my next friend would be the grim reaper.
I was knocked from reverie as my hooves found beneath them the soft sinking feeling of sand, and the harmonies of the sea crashing against the shore hit my harks. I had reached the beach, a place I had yet to explore since I had entered this place, the place I was supposedly meant to call home.
However, the foam hitting the rocks and the roaring of them colliding into one another pleasantly drowned out the hissing ghouls that had permanent residence in my ears. It was a pleasant relief, and one that I wanted to savour. Something about the ocean lured me closer, and before I knew it, I was up to my knees in the white horses that adorned the tops of the waves. I was buffeted around as it was a rough and stormy day and it was strangely relaxing. It was like a lullaby, lulling me off to a place with no demons skulking and no lunacy.
A thought passed through my cranium, that I should simply just walk out to sea. Just keep going, slide underwater and swim with the fishes. The peace would be heavenly. With this, a hiss reverberated through my dial;do it you coward, I dare you.. Somehow, it had taken over my senses and my impulses and it started to push me forward, to the depths of the ocean.
The only thing that brought me back into the world of the living was the sight of a crowned one on the shore, the one who had captured my rapture. The one who had me under her spell. The painted one. I wrestled back control and pulled myself from rock bottom, pushing myself through the surging current, my only thoughts of reaching her..
As I came back to the shoreline, I managed a closer look at my beloved, the one whom had brought me back from the devil. She seemed just as lost as I. She looked saddened by something and was clearly lost in thought. I moved forward gently, approaching from the front. As I came close, I reached out gently with my nuzzle, attempting to touch hers;
“My darling. What has you so consumed? You seem sad. Please don’t be, sadness doesn’t become you like happiness does. What can I do to help?”
This vixen in front of me had awoken feelings in me that I thought were long since dead. I only hoped that she wasn’t weaving a web of destruction and that she wasn’t in league with my abhorrent ones..
Think Think Think
"Speak Speak Speak"
Fugue State
Tagged: @[Circuta]
Count: 631
Notes: He keeps taking me places I don't expect!
A wave came from the beyond, racing forth and splashing against her
apparel with a force that made her dig her hooves forwards into the
soft sands. It was gentle, in comparison to the clash and thrash
of bodies in war, but it threatened to topple her
backwards, and she had to shift her
weight forwards in her body to keep her upright.
When the wave crashed down behind her,
mixing with the sounds of rain, a warrior came
towards her from the raging sea. He could have just been
made fresh from the sculpted fingers of Poseidon,
carried from the sea itself. Water cascaded
down his mane, his apparel damp. Orbs of ice,
she realized that this brute could very well be
crafted by the sea God, himself. He could even be
the son of the sea God, and it would fit him
well.
She wanted to hate him. She wanted to use him,
like she would use all of the other beast's and creations.
She wanted to rip the tenderness from his bones
and dry it out in the light of the sun, perhaps,
when the sun came back. She was the vampire,
and he the willing victim. She would suck the life
from him and turn him to the dead, if she could
get her hands around his throat.
And yet, he made her stomach turn at the idea. It irritated
and frustrated her, and she wanted to withdraw from him
as soon as she caught sight of his brilliant orbs. Wanted to slide
into the darkness, because she had always trusted in it before, and now
she was being pulled into the light of his December gaze.
It burned her, scalded her, she wanted to cry-out,
but the entangles of light and darkness would not let her.
He suffocated her. And she didn't know why.
It almost scared her. What was it, about this stranger,
whom she had barely met, that made the beating
organ in her chest warm, melt the slices of ice sticking into it?
She was not this way, not with other's,
she feared it. Feared him.
But no, she wouldn't think this way. She mustn't, she would
throw the thoughts into the sea, she was Circuta, she was the predator.
She was not a elk, and would not run from the wolf. She would
face it.
She was it.
Why, couldn't this brute see,
that she was the monster? The curse?
She moved not as the brute came close,
her indigo orbs gazing at him as she allowed
the windows to her souls to slide shut.
"I have no answer for you, white General; nor do
I require any current assistance. My state will
fix itself, soon, soldier, soon."
The shade thought it strange and interesting:
the Spy and the Soldier, standing in the same
proximity of one another, yet no fight raged
this eve.
It was then that it happened.
Through the icy chill of the storm, a red line appeared
upon the horizon, illuminating the dark clouds
that wrecked havoc upon the land below.
The droplets of rain that landed upon their coats
began to gleam in it's reflection, her metallic shade
gleamed in the new found light as it had not before; dulled
as it had been by the pale light of the moon.
But this.
A warmth, distant, soft,
touched her chill frame. Touched the sea God's son.
Her shutter's opened, and her indigo orb's reflected it's promising
light.
A smile spread across her maw, small,
visible. Lyrics came from her more freely, then,
more relaxed.
"The darkness is caught by the wolf this eve, white General."
09-25-2013, 04:34 PM (This post was last modified: 09-26-2013, 04:43 AM by Arlo.)
FOR ALL IS NOT ALWAYS FAIR IN BOTH LOVE AND WAR..</style>
I stood, patiently watching her. Water pooled down my face, dripping from my bangs and as the breeze kicked up, it caused me to shiver slightly. Goosebumps appeared, whether from her intense stare or from the cold, one could never know. Lord knows what she thought of me now, appearing from the ocean as if I was borne from it, fresh from the suicidal thoughts that had dragged me into that very water to finish it all. How would she react to the fact that it was only the sight of her that stopped me, and pulled me back from the very edge.
She would most likely respond the way that I was, in the depth of my dial, cogs whirring away, struggling to comprehend how I was feeling. How could I be feeling this way now? Why was I feeling this way? She had given me no reason to do so. Only a week or so ago I was so consumed by hate and anger that the demons had taken a grip over my entire carcass and had changed me entirely. And now I was back, and I was feeling such strong emotions of rudimental love? It was unthinkable.
I wanted to run, run as far as my pistons would carry me. It didn’t matter how I felt about the beauty who stood before me. If they found out how I felt, I would always have to worry for her soul as well as mine, for they wouldn’t leave her to live in peace. I couldn’t let her see that darkened side of my psyche, I just couldn’t. It didn’t matter to me who she was, what darkness she carried within, I just had to hide mine.
I observed her, taking in everything about her. The look she was giving me was one of confusion, almost repulsion. It told me just about everything I needed to know. She was feeling about the same as me, whether she had the strong emotions I did, she felt incensed by my forward thoughts. She was fighting the flight mechanism about as much as I was.
And then without warning, the blazing brilliance that were her purple oceans closed and went dull. She didn’t want me to see anymore of her. I understood that, for right now I wanted to hide myself away from all this. It had me almost wishing I carried on walking out to sea.
Her response to my probing answered everything. She would rather she was alone. It was probably for the best, for the ghouls were striking up a merry dance in my dial, and I couldn’t risk letting them loose right now, in front of her.
Before I had even a chance to allow lyrics from my maw, she turned away from me to stare at the sky. Turning myself slightly to be able to see what had distracted her, I had to hold back a gasp. That red ball of fire was returning to the skies. The sun was finally returning after her extended absence from her rightful place.
It didn’t take me long to realise what this meant for me. It meant at least I could have the daytime free from turmoil. The ghouls mainly shrunk away from the goddesses light, for it was too potent. It gave me liberation, at least during daylight hours. My paranoia could be saved for the moonlit times. It meant that the crowned one before me wouldn’t have to see that side of me, so long as I stayed away during the dark times.
I knew deep down that daylight wouldn’t always mean that the demons would stay away, there would always be circumstances where their pull would be too strong to stay under, even whilst the sun was up, but it was a start. A wonderful new beginning free from the shackles, and that made my spirits rise.
“Well it would seem that the perpetual night is at a close M’lady. No more lurking in the light of the moon. But alas, I can tell that you would rather be alone with your thoughts. My presence is merely an interruption. I shall bid you goodbye and leave you to it..”
With this, I turned to leave, my heart sinking a little. With one last slither of hope, I turned my dial back to her to see if she was even watching my departure.
Think Think Think
"Speak Speak Speak"
Fugue State
Tagged: @[Circuta]
Count: 735
Notes: He keeps taking me places I don't expect!
Her heart screamed it's melodies into her harks as the sky bled, crimson spreading in liquid arcs to the heavens the higher
the sky-dwelling ball of flame drew upwards. It was a rebirth, a new beginning, and she welcomed it with
spirit's high and orbs sharp. It gave her new energy, new purpose, and despite the ocean's pull and tug,
she laughed. she laughed. it was a giggling, almost insane
chuckling, but she laughed and that was something the shade was unaware she was
possible of. But here, in the murky light of dawn, where the sky kissed the water in the
far distance, she felt.. she felt, and when had she begun feeling?
The dawn is bringing her to life, a vulnerable, rare, life. It's tentative, the joy
that raises within her soul as the torrents of rain that buffet, bathe, her in cool
water. The bird escapes the coop on this day, it seems, for once, here,
with the pristine warrior of ocean's standing next to her.
She is, for all the world, a prideful, haughty being, who looks at the wings of eagles
attached to the bodies of equines and scoffs her judgment's of the bird brain's
without second thought. And yet, on this eve, she feels paradoxically as if she
has grown wings upon her back, freeing her from the chains that
drag her down to the earth once more.
She restrains herself, though, she is no child, and yet with mirth in her
indigo orb's she turns to him, cloaked bodice and all.
The pristine steed speaks of leaving, states that she wants
to be left alone on this beach as if he claims to know the
secrets of the mind. She exhales a soft blow of air through her nostrils,
taking a step towards the leaving general. The water's have washed his
coat, cleansed him, and in the light of the sun; with the rain covering them both
as blankets, she decides he is brilliant. He's one of the good one's, and she
is mildly confused at the sentiment. She's not used to sentiment. She doesn't like it.
And yet, maybe, in this radiance, she can.. open up, for the Asylum. They were her family, weren't they?
But Circuta had never had a family. Not really.
She had been shunned.
And so the feelings that accompany it, perhaps, the correct interactions, they are lost
upon her maw and her words fumble for purchase against the harmony of the
rain. "I find that the prospect of you leaving in such terrible weather is illogical and it would be smartest, based on our current situation, that you.."
Her words trail off, try to grasp what she is supposed to say, and she wishes she had the correct words
to be able to respond to the general. She wishes she did, but she doesn't, and her smooth tone momentarily falters.
It is a mere second, but it is there, the uncertain wobble. "..stay, sir."
09-30-2013, 02:28 PM (This post was last modified: 09-30-2013, 04:39 PM by Arlo.)
a r l o
As I turned away from the crowned one, my heart was screaming at me to stay. To stay whether she really wanted me to or not. It was an alien feeling to me, as my heart hadn’t so much as fluttered since the whole ordeal. I had genuinely started to believe it had withered and charred away, given the lack of emotion I had been feeling recently. Quite frankly, it had me baffled. I couldn’t understand what had brought these feelings on, at this time and this vixen. She had me well and truly enchanted and although she was a beauty, I couldn’t figure it out.
My head was muttering at me, telling me to leave and never to return to this place. But even if I wanted to, it would never work out that, for I had made her part of the asylum, I had made her part of my refuge. There was no avoidance available to me here. Bringing her into my inner circle could have been an error on my part, for even if I was to fall in love with her, I could never let her see the abhorrents, which would mean I could never really relax around her. It would cause discord and upset, and would most likely be the beginning of the end of us. And that would cause more heart break the longer I let this go on, for I could already feel the start of a tiny tear starting in one corner and it was positively painful.
Was it really possible that the sun rising could mean a fresh start? Could I really wipe my slate clean and start again? The sun had offered this land a new beginning, and I suppose it could be possible that by proxy, it could be offering me a way out, a way to have the life I had always wanted, right from when I was a little boy. But, the sun couldn’t always be in the sky, like the moon had been recently. Which means fresh start or not, the ghouls still remained and their threat was ever present. In conclusion, there was no complete break from my past, and the potential to hurt her still hadn’t been eradicated. And as confusing as my feelings were, they wouldn’t let me put her in harms way.
As I moved to wander away, dial held low, banner between my legs, dejected, heart wrenching, her giggle reached my harks. It was like music, a beautiful harmony, if a little insane. My heart lifted at the sounds and I paused mid footfall, hovering, trying my best not to turn around. After a long pause however, my heart won out, and I turned back towards my beauty, to look her straight in those violet oceans of hers. I stood there, the rain causing both of our pelts to shimmer and steam in the warmth of the newly birthed sun. Vapour cascaded from her nostrils as she breathed, causing it to swirl and shroud her slightly.
I listened intently as she spoke her words, butterflies jolting in me as she stumbled over her lyrics, asking me to stay. So, she too held the confusion over this whole thing as I did. This comforted me somewhat.
“Aye the weather is not at its best, though at least the fiery goddess has deigned to return to our skies. M’lady, a slight of rain is not one to put me off my travels. I can happily be on my way if you so wished. However if there was another reason? Then I could most likely be..”
I held her gaze here, letting her know I meant every word, and that I could leave if she wanted to be alone on this beach, waves crashing to the shore, providing a hypnotizing melody. I could see the appeal of being lonesome with ones thoughts here.
“Persuaded, though be truthful dear. For either way I will be happy, we can always converse another day..”
I moved forward, so that I was in front of her again; close enough to reach out to her, praying she would want me to stay by her side. The solider and the spy, considering life by the ocean in the pouring rain, whilst watched over by the prodigal orange goddess, oddly content.
" " Fugue 720 words.
@[Circuta]
&CROWS WILL FLEE THE SCENE, AS IF TO REMIND ME HOW LONG ITS BEEN SINCE I'VE SEEN A DOVE.
The stumbling mutters that came from her maw work as charm speech, and the general turns again towards her
face, to gaze with icy oceans into her dark orbs. The rain has begun to fade into a gentle thrum, it is no longer harsh; but
soft thump's against her apparel. It shimmers against the general's armor, turns him to the mists she had seen in the
edge of the world. Her vision is clear of her emotions, but her heart drops with the words that spill
forth from his maw. He is to leave her here, then, to leave her here alone? It is tempting and revolting,
and she breathes out a light puff into the fresh morning air.
The white general knows nothing of her true personality, it is obvious, for if he did; he would know that she cannot
allow herself to fall into his web. She has been disappointed once, by her father, and she will not follow a false
shepherd into a fool's flock. Love, if this is indeed her spiraling emotions towards him, is a errand only the
weak make. Love is a sweet lie, as life is, and death is a hard truth to swallow. She does, however, for the
simple realization that she is stronger than they. And yet, as her silence spreads on,
she cannot allow him to leave. It is with abrupt conclusion that she knows nothing, really, of this
confusing beast of storm, water, ice, sky and metal. And she thinks, she would like to change that,
if she could. She thinks she would like to know more about him, she thinks she would like to know whom she
speaks to now. And so it is then that her delicate hooves bring her
to his right with quiet steps, so that her own right faced outwards towards the crashing sea, and her left
faced his ship. A pause, as her night sky's swivel to observe his once more.
She makes no response to his question, instead, she answers it with her own.
"My general, It has come to my mind that we know little of one another."
Her voice floats upon the breeze, a flower petal being blown in the force
of the wind. It is cautious, gentle.
"Walk with me, for a little while. Tell me of yourself, general, please." And I will respond in kind, her orbs whisper. Come.
10-07-2013, 11:53 AM (This post was last modified: 10-07-2013, 03:44 PM by Arlo.)
a r l o
Iwatched the rain pour off her obsidian pelt giving it a glistening aura, it ran in tiny waterfalls from her bangs, making her look like she was the goddess of rain. She truly was a beauty. Where most would look bedraggled and soaked to the bone, she looked ethereal and completely mesmerising.
Every strand of my being was praying for her to tell me to stay with her a while. I knew that these magical moments with her could not last much longer, for the day was losing light and the reaper was creeping upon us.
Once the reaper had control of the day, I would have to leave her behind; I could not run the risk of her seeing who I really was, for I was sure the ghouls would want to wreak havoc tonight. There had been too many emotions for them to feed off recently and the more I fed them, the hungrier they got. I did not want to admit to her yet that I was not the white knight I appeared to be.
It did not bother me one bit however, that she was clearly hiding darkness behind those indigo oceans of hers, for it was always there, lurking just below the surface. I wanted to know more of her; I wanted to know all of her. Whatever she was hiding from me and the rest of the earth would only make her more beautiful to me. And yet, what I was hiding from her would only serve to make me uglier, something tainted and unholy. Not worthy of her, and I wanted it so badly.
Her silence said it all. She wanted me to leave her, standing by the raging ocean, looking as if she had been sent down from the heavens. But how could I leave something so beautiful behind? How could I not have her with me always? I needed to go now, before it pained me too much.
But, as I placed one hoof forward, soft, honeyed lyrics floating through the air towards me, slightly buffeted by the wind. My heart leapt at what they brought to my harks. She wished me to stay; she wished to walk with her. But of course, I would be by her side for eternity if I could. But how, how could I tell her more of me without spilling the poison, the truth? Alas, I could not, at least not easily. But she was more than worth a try. I would have all the courage of a lion for her. I just couldn’t tell her the whole truth.
Her indigoes were beckoning me to her side, to be with her, to learn more about her. It was like the Gods were giving me everything I had ever wished for and more. How could I ever repay them? And how could I not destroy the very gift they had given me? For was I not broken and torn inside? Doomed to destroy all gifts given for the whole of my life span, at least that was what my family spat at me when I ran from their clan. They had cursed me, cursed me into the very hell I was living in now. But, from a strange hand of fate, I had been given a way out, a beautiful way out and I was going to take it. I may well end up more broken and more twisted than I had ever been, but the gains well outweighed the cost. It was better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.
“My black dove, I would be honoured to follow you.” I paused here, reaching out towards her muzzle with mine. “I would gladly tell you most things of me. What would you most like to know?”
I could only hope that she wouldn’t like to know what resided in the very depths of my being or why I would have to leave her no sooner had I gained her, as the night fell..
" " Fugue 674 words.
@[Circuta]
Woah, he has feelings!
&CROWS WILL FLEE THE SCENE, AS IF TO REMIND ME HOW LONG ITS BEEN SINCE I'VE SEEN A DOVE.
The curse's hooves press into the muddied sand as she moves on down the beach, as soon as she hears the confirmation that the pristine Lord shall follow her steps. Her harks relax further along her dome, yet maintain the alert stance they always have. The shallow tides beneath her hooves ripple and quake in response, and her indigo orb's gaze forwards. The chill from after the storm is welcomed, though a small tremor moves through her delicate frame.
The voice of her general reaches her dome, a query, he deems her a black dove and she smiles with dry humor in response.
A white dove is adored, and yet the sight of a black dove would send the flocks away in panic for it's odd plumage. It fits her, she likes this title,
this gift of words bestowed upon her harks.
He speaks that he shall tell her most things, most? She wishes to know all, she wishes
to learn the darkest secrets of this silvery Lord. A hum works at the back of her throat
as she listens to him, then forms into a voice at her maw.
"How did you come to Helovia, my General?"
The first piece of chess is thrown with elegance. A thread of logic that begins with ease,
it is only the simplest and yet most confusing of questions. She has come to
Helovia with the shunned whispers of the damned behind her back.
What has the general, the silver Lord, done to be cast to this land?
It is certain that they all carry a demon at their backs. And yet, has he come with the title of wanderer,
adventurer? Has he come with the title of wronged hero, or darkened villian? It does not matter
to the shade, if she cared for the morality of the world she would not be found
in the depth's of the marsh, as a spy, as a liar. A thief, a murderer, a shadow that creeps along
corridors in the dead of night.
No, if she cared for morality, she would not be found in the Asylum.
She waits as she continues forward at a slow pace, waits as she listens with eager, greedy
harks for his response. She waits to devour his words, roll it along her tongue and taste it's essence.
She is patient.
Following behind her for a few steps, watching her dainty hooves make barely an imprint on the sand, I was struck by her. How elegant she was, how regal she was. Her obsidian and white patterned pelt, heck she was even adorned with a crown upon her dial. She had surely come from some high born family. She was more than a queen then the bull headed Seele, or the vermillion mentalist Eris.
I found myself wanting to be next her, walking as her equal. Oh, to really be equal to her, what a feeling that would be. To be truly worth of conversing with her. Alas, it was never to be, I was a mere lowly foot soldier to her highness. I was barely fit to kneel at her hooves, but it would be one hell of an experience to pretend, at least until nightfall. Once the reaper descended upon us, she would see how common I was, how unfit I was to be standing next to her. She would banish me and barely bestow a thought upon my memory again. I would be a mere shadow within her history, not worth a mention to anyone.
I pushed myself forward, long loping steps to bring myself dial to dial with her. I walked companionably next to her in silence, pondering on how to keep this moment alive forever. Searching for a way to keep this flame eternal, never for it to extinguish.
My harks pricked, listening carefully as she asked how I found myself here. I started a little, for what was the best way to answer this? How could I tell her I was a warrior banished, a warrior beaten, a warrior so broken that he no longer had full control over his consciousness? It wasn’t possible to tell her the full truth, perhaps not even half the truth. But I had to tell her something, something vaguely close to the truth, otherwise she would pick up on my lies. I was never a good liar.
“Well, my black dove. I find myself here as a warrior banished. My family were fighters for hire, until we lost our final battle, and as our punishment we were exiled, separated from each other. Doomed to wander the lands alone, as lonesome prey, or at least the ones who survived that is..” I cringed as the half lie tripped from my maw. It was true, we had lost, and I had been exiled, alone. But it was my family who had banished me, and they were still together. “How about you, my dove? How do you find yourself here? What twist of luck brought you to me?”
We walked, slowly making our way across the sands, the only other sounds were those of the gulls, and the crashing of the waves upon the shore.
" " Fugue 471 words.
@[Circuta]
&CROWS WILL FLEE THE SCENE, AS IF TO REMIND ME HOW LONG ITS BEEN SINCE I'VE SEEN A DOVE.
The shade feels his gaze upon her as he follows after her as a obedient dog may with it's master. She does not turn to gaze back at him, yet a smoke's puff of warm air causes her soul to quake, to shudder and crumble. A glass heart hides beneath the cold armor, breakable, tender, controlled and held
together with tied leather and string. She has been broken before, she is broken, a wisp of a girl she once was. She does not want to break, does not want to
fall beneath the grasp of a hammer, and she fights the battle valiantly. But emotions are cruel, the universe does not strip them from a
burdened childe because they wish it. It does not pity, does not look down with a gentle expression upon those who are too
damned to control the blasted flames themselves. And as a forest fire, they spread, down along her frame,
down, down, down. The ashes of her float away upon the wind, and yet still, she feels.
She feels too much, and so she is cursed with the deepest wounds, the cuts and scrapes of a warrior
sent too many times into a fight, she falls beneath hooves as if she was made of butter.
The match moves next to her, beside her now. her equal, her fighter, her warrior, her general. He is her pet, and yet she is his. Whatever the rankings shall be
in her family, he shall be her sword, her shield. She is knowledge, she is cunning and diplomatic. She pulls and cuts the strings, yet he is that which keeps her from
demise. She shall look to him for her guidance, however, she is not inclined to bow down as a loyal canine.
A complication, a mess of strings and wire that encase them alive as a spider weaves its web around its prey.
Those sharp indigo orbs miss little, the almost alarmed prick of his harks, the barest of startles escaped the rolling ocean
of his frame. She isn't a spy because she's only good at slinking in the shadows, she's a spy because she's good
at picking up slivers of emotions and piecing them into a puzzle. She's good at catching the tail of a fox and pulling it from its den,
screeching and cackling from it's hideaway. His voice seeps into her pores and she relishes its deep timbre.
A warrior, banished, a battle lost. It was as if the general slunk from her, cringed away from singing a song of sweet nothings in her harks.
The lyrics tripped and clashed, and it was quick to be forgotten as he moved to question her own past. A ship wrecked against
rocks, its men escaping unto land. Land built by the sirens themselves, to gobble their flesh and rip away their bones with greedy fangs
and greased feathers.
A twist of luck, he says? She is not brought here by luck, she was chased by a demon,
it haunts her mind and cripples her step. It hides behind her back, invisible to the love-struck general and his ship of frothy foam.
Nevertheless, her lyrics come once more, singing the broken tune. Perhaps if he knew what a monster he faced, he would leave her side, never to return. Perhaps if he knew what monster hid beneath the veil, he would be safe from the demon's claws.
"A sleep filled with troubled minds and hunters. my mother's lyrics did not reach my conscious in time, and with a dagger upon my brow I sent her to her grave. I awoke in time to see the body of my dam, not the body of a fowl demon. Labeled cursed and damned by the crow king, sent forth from my kingdom to be forever chased alongside my sire, said to be born of Hades." A monotone of agony, the siren sings. Though her tone is light, her heart is heavy.
"I left of my own accord after several years."
Silence befalls her then, bittersweet, until she changes the tune once more. "And yet we both find ourselves amidst the crazed. What haunts your conscious, general?"
Tortured soul that I was, did I really want to share that with the one before me, my dove? Did I really want her to know the very ins and outs of me, what lurked in the very depths of who I was? Or did I want to be cowardly and hide it all away from her, to continue with this mask, this pretence that I was simply a lost, lonely gentleman that had been banished from his homeland? I shook my dial in confusion, shaking my bangs softly. This was so frustrating, for I wanted nothing more than for our relationship to start with nothing but the truth, but how could it when the truth would most likely cause her to bolt and to never think of me again? I couldn’t ask her to risk her life for me. If I was to turn when I was with her, the abhorrents would immediately know who she was and take their revenge on me swiftly and easily, before I would have even a chance to blink. The idea was heartbreaking. I sighed deeply as I walked alongside her dainty footsteps.
And yet, as much as I knew I had to leave her, I couldn’t. I would never leave her side, I would never let her stray into danger. Even if it meant that I had to stand in the shadows, hidden to protect her. She may never know it, but I will always be her protector. I would lay down my life for her, follow her to the ends of the earth if she required it. It wouldn’t matter to me if I had to reside in the seventh circle of hell, for that is where I would be without her, I would still make sure she walked through her life unharmed. I knew she could more than look after herself, fight for herself and stand up for herself, but it wouldn’t stop me. I would be there, I just wouldn’t tell her. I would be her shadow angel. I was well and truly caught in her web.
Damn this thing was complicated, it was never going to be simple. It was tearing me in two; it was causing my soul to slowly rip. If my soul was to truly tear then the abhorrents would have won, they would have permanent control, I had to get a grip on this situation, before I lost my life forever. The truth would be the thing to set me free, but I wasn’t ready for it just yet. I just had to run the risk and hope my soul would hold out a little while longer.
I listened as she talked of sending her mother to her grave and being chased from her home. I blinked as I realised that she truly did carry darkness, same as I, if not more. Her soul was as twisted as mine, and yet it only served to make her more beautiful to me. So why couldn’t I tell her of my terror? Surely if I could accept her shadows, embrace them even, then she would accept mine? I guess the difference was, she showed no shame, but I was truly ashamed of my demons, the darkened side of me. It was caused by failures, the weaknesses I held within my psyche. Whereas hers were caused by a mistake, when she was clearly a mere pup. It hadn’t been her fault as it had been mine.
I nearly missed her as she asked me a question, so lost in the troubled ocean that was my thoughts, sloshing around my dial, only serving to give me a headache, and to be even more confused than I was to start with. But, here was my chance! My chance to tell her everything! She had come forth and asked me of what troubled me. Which path would I choose? I truly had no idea, I took a deep breath and started with my deep, tenor tune;
“My dove, I am not so sure that you want to know of what haunts me. I wish I wasn’t the one privy to it, trust me. You should just assume that I reside within the clutch of the crazies for I am simply a banished warrior, broken and ashamed.” I sighed, ashamed that yet again I had taken the cowards’ way forward. For one so ferocious on the battle field, I was clearly a deserter in the affairs of the heart. “My dove, tell more of what happened to you, it is a far more acceptable tale, I promise you.”
I could only hope that she didn’t ask any more questions, or perhaps the opposite. Perhaps if she questioned me more closely I would finally come forth and spill the truth..
" " Fugue 798 words.
@[Circuta]
oO I thought I had no muse!
&CROWS WILL FLEE THE SCENE, AS IF TO REMIND ME HOW LONG ITS BEEN SINCE I'VE SEEN A DOVE.
As she walks with the ocean's king, the sea greedily pushing forth to swallow the sand in the aftermath
of the storm, he sighs. It's a deep, haunting, lullaby the echoes from his maw, and the Seeker believes she may be lost in it's troubled caress.
The wind whips against her with a sudden, striking force, humid air that rushes against her violet orbs and causes them to water with the force of the
onslaught. It's a angered, harsh slap, and it screams its jealousy into her mind. It screams into her soul the stupidity of her actions,
the utter lack of reasoning skills that has brought her to this point in time. The glass shell inside her chest clangs with pangs of agony at its cries,
and as if in apology, it slows to the gentlest of kisses against her hide. But the damage has been cast,
the harsh ring of the wind's voice bitters her soul yet more. Yet she stumbles, the barest hint, onward, returning back to the graceful
pace of her steps.
Her question hangs with silence in the air, a formidable force separating the two of them from one another, and once more her gaze
is set ahead, in fear of turning to observe him. What would he think of her actions, the murder of her mother? It is only the soft hoof beats next to her that keep her steady, remind her that he is still here, for otherwise she would assume he had but raced away, disgusted, sickened by the blood that taints the ivory veil of her history.
Her dome hangs perhaps a little lower, a turmoil of emotions flooding her veins with far too much water. How much longer, how much longer until the dam breaks? The wind whispers, and she would cry out to it in anger, a feud between her long-trusted friend and her..
What is the general, what is the allgemeine to her?
What is their relationship?
But the voice calls to her again, his voice, distant, as if she herself was pressed underneath the waves of the ocean's force. She forces herself to focus on him,
despite the dizziness that has overtaken her at the wind's divine rage. He speaks of shame, a song of cowardice perhaps, cowardice? But was it so cowardly, to hide from
the bloodied sheet that cloaks your mind? Is it not the wisest choice to run from the demon, shed the old skin as a snake with it's scales?
A banished warrior, a broken, cracked general. But she is not content to go on as if he is pure, she wants to understand; she wants
to know what has caused him such self-loathing.
The mistress does not really recognize the general's next words, as she turns, as quick as the wind against her flesh had been to strike her. Sand was scattered at the force of her sudden movements, and she has paused now, her full attention given to the allgemeine.
"No."
The wisp of her voice is as the waves that crash against the stone, a timeless war between the element of Earth and Water, of Reality, and Dreams.
The ocean is dreams. She is a shattered dream.
Storms billow with emotions in the indigo depths that are focused upon the glaciers that the general deems his sight, rain and agony and hatred, though the hatred does not seem to be directed at the Lord of the Sea's. The hatred that is blown within the violet depths is much more ancient, as she remembers the angel's white wings and the taunts of his words. Half-breed, half-breed it cries, the wings seem to disappear into the oiled black surface of the crow kings dome, and with it comes so much more. Affection and horror and love and so many clashing of damned feelings that it swirls into one, dark storm beneath the pools surface. A hurricane that has been blown to sea, a battle against elements, a force so strong that it radiates from her frame and she tremors beneath the pull of the tug and war just beneath her skin.
But does the general recognize how loose the strings that tie her together are?
Does he?
The proximity of her elegant frame has become closer to the general's own, somewhere between the mixing of the elements, perhaps a step, two steps closer. Heat radiates from her flesh, droplets of water cling to her mane and tail even now from the torrential downpour they had only recently experienced. They gather upon her lashes, constellations formed at her gaze.
".. I will stand at your side with loyalty no matter what has occurred in the veil of your past. Tell me, what haunts you, my Lord?"
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
