aybe the days here wouldn’t be so bad, Liseli quietly thought to himself as once again he entered the festival. Again like the days he’d been here before the noise and light-hearted chaos drew him in, it was funny really. He had kept trying to go back to the forest and to his pondering isolation but the sub-conscious reminders of home here seemed to draw him closer every time. The sounds and lights were all to similar to those he’d grown up with around his families lands far away. Every time he tried to leave he ended up just going deeper in to the maze of tents and fires.
It was upon this night, the crowd seemed rowdier than usual, may of the equines around him in passing smelled a bit… sour. Sour perhaps wasn’t the exact word for it, but Liseli knew what types of drinks they were partaking in. Spirits are called spirits for a reason, he chuckled lowly a bit at the thought of his own joke. Equines could be seen all about the street some with their wares posted in the tents, others laughing and loosely bumping in to their friends. Liseli had not been in any one land for long and he still wasn’t totally caught up in the customs of this land, but he was learning. A small part of him hated to admit that he was a little lonely, ever since…
Liseli stopped and shook his head fairly violently shaking loose a feather or two from his illuminated wings and stomping his large hoof against the compacted dirt beneath him. He’d not had that twinge of sadness in his chest for quiet some time and he’d preferred it that way. He surveyed his surroundings once more, all the laughing the shouting, smiles all around. Perhaps there is something to all this spirit… Liseli had had spirits in the past but was never one who was ever particularly taken with them, his youth-time friends would often get in to trouble with them when the grown folk were not around. Some good times, others bad, but while it was all happening no one ever seemed all too terribly down about it.
Liseli huffed and outstretched his wings upwards for but a moment before resettling them against his body, sometimes you just had to let the things breathe. Being one with a preference to walk, flying wasn’t so much out of his knowledge he just simple still had to let so blood circulate back through them. Liseli went on through the path and turned down a bit more of a narrow secluded alleys created by the tented walls. It wasn’t crowded here aside from the view of the passers-by at the very end of it. He liked it here, a bit cooler and darker than the rest of the festival, spared from the heat of the fires and bodies.
As he walked he was stopped around the center, a smaller back out let type of tent was facing in towards the alleyway. A lone horse, a pony probably of short stature and unkept mane. He seemed nice enough when he beconed for Liseli to near him. “Son you seem awfully lonesome, no one comes back here less they’ve got somethin’ on they minds.” Liseli smirked a bit and approached the older, by markedly smaller stallion. The pony chuffed and reached under the table that was part of his tent and pulled out two glass of small spirits and placed them in front of Liseli . Before Liseli could speak the elder cut him off, “Well I gotta get back to the front but you may take those for ye troubles.” And with that he was gone again vanishing through the heavily purple fabrics that deprecated the little spot from the much large main tent towards the center of activity.
Liseli glance from side to side and the stared back at the blue bottles as if they were speaking to him. He didn’t excitably trust them, but did he really not want to know? Why two? So he just stood contemplating his choices, body relaxed and wings falling to the side…
“Give.” Slam. “Me.” Slam “An answer!” Slam, crack, and an echo that breaks the air that has returned nothing to the screaming woman. She doesn’t know how long she’s been slamming her hooves into the rock in front of her, demanding an answer from the statue next to the rock. Io has prayed to Atara - truly prayed for the first time in years - she’s prayed to Acrux, to Hemanta, to every Deity that she had ever followed so far. And now she was here in the mountains where the citizens of Novus worshipped their Gods. She had originally prayed to each statue, hoping that one of them would answer until, finally, she was here, beating the shit out of a rock until it’d cracked, and screaming.
Io’s panting as she stares at the rock she’s cracked, rage still boiling up inside of her. “All. I want. Is a fucking answer. I don’t care who it comes from.” Raising a hoof she slams it down again, the rock now too small for both hooves, with a loud snort, and the narrowing of her golden eyes. “What happened to me? How do I fix all of this?” Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply to calm the emotions in her, to soothe the ever-burning anger. “Why am I always so angry? When did I get like this, when did I stop feeling anything other than this? I don’t want to be full of rage and pain anymore so tell me, tell me how to fix this. How can I fix me?” Tears have started to well up in her eyes, threatening to fall until she lifts her head up to the sky, blinks them away, and sighs heavily. “Is this some kind of terrible curse? Does the world truly hate me this much?”
She’s so tired, tired of anger, tired of being tired, tired of always screaming and crying, she’s tired of it all. Luvena had been like gasoline poured on a dying fire, igniting it into sudden and violent flames. Io wasn’t angry at Luvena, no she could never be angry at her, but she was angry at herself. Angry that she’d always been refusing to face her problems, refusing to face herself until she was forced into it. Her sister had been the one to hold up the mirror. Even more so she was angry that she'd lost herself along the way by simply shutting herself up and away from the world; she'd put pieces of herself that had chipped off high up on a shelf where she could pretend they weren't there if she pushed them back against a wall.
When was the last time she'd thought about Vander, about Andante, Ezera, any of them? Was it Totem? Maybe it was when she'd seen Oberon? She couldn't remember. Hell she couldn't even remember her age anymore, not after all the times the Gods had decided to ''gift'' her immortality. At this point Io is pretty sure she's around 15, maybe even 16? The golden eyed woman doesn't think of it much, she doesn't want to focus on that. All she knows is that she can feel the weight of her age pulling down on her bones, on both her soul and heart that had slowly been infected; left to rot slowly as she ignored it. Io doesn't like having to acknowledge that something dark has bloomed up in her after so many years but oh god it's there, it's there thriving while she ignores it all. There's a thought that slowly seeps into her mind, nestles itself into the grooves of her brain to whisper poisonous sweet nothings to her. How lost am I? As the thought makes itself at home she slams her hoof into the rock one more time before turning away from it. "You're all like the rest: just pretty little lies we tell ourselves to feel better." Walking down the path her curled ears are tipped back, fighting away tears that threaten to spill over thick lashes. All she had wanted was an answer from a God, just once she wanted an answer. The only one she'd ever gotten was from Acrux and she's sure that she's disappointed even him.
Stopping in her steps Io takes a step closer to the edges of the path, peering over it with a passing thought of how far was the drop? Were there rocks down there? And if so how many, how sharp? How much damage had this path caused? In all those thoughts one sticks out: If I tumbled over where would I go? Into the skies with Acrux again or would I get dragged down by Gwathren or even Fuin? Where do I belong in death now? An even more poisonous thought sinks into her, causing her ears to flatten against her skull and her eyes to clench closed. And who would care besides Gaston? I have no one anymore except him. Io pushes those thoughts down, expels them from her brain to return to the path. Which path she's metaphorically on she doesn't know but she'll just focus on this one for right now. Focusing on this, letting herself rot up, everything she's doing is better than crying again. Better than thinking about the past, than mourning, than feeling the guilt pull at her. Yes, yes it's better to focus on the uncertain path in front of her isn't it? At least right now when others are awake, she'll try again tonight when the moon is out instead.
"Talk." IO'S NATIVE LANGUAGE, HOVER OVER ME Thoughts Chandrakant
he colors, the warmth, the light and chatter all around! What an exciting place to be! It was a clear night as the shinny copper splash equine made his way through the crowds. The liveliness of the place brought to him a sense of excitement and a bit of nostalgia. He walked with his head high, heterochromatic eyes darting to and from the different booths and beings. Some tents were the essence of luxury, elaborate and extravagant while others were of the more humble variety. A bit ironic, Liseli thought, how usually the later seemed to be the postings surrounded by the most laughter. Liseli was just excited to take it all in, he’d seen little like this in his whole life.
Liseli had spent the better part of the following year in isolation, traveling through the forest and over the lands to reach Novus. Through the few encouragers he’d had with various fellow travelers he now new that he had been in Novus for some time, just in a place generally reserved for those called the vagabonds. It was also though his encounters he’d learnt about the kingdoms of Novus as well. Once he’d helped a deer clean and mend a flesh wound upon the mountainside, where he learned about the kingdom of Delumine and the equids of the Dawn Court. These fancy terms meant little to Liseli, but he did know they were looking for new blood. Liseli figured someone with his gifts could be useful to them.
It was to the castle upon the hill that was his original destination, but the crowds here tugged at his curiosity enough for him to deviate from his original path. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d hope to find here but it was tantalizing to the senses. All of the gathering reminded him of the fires of his family when he was young, everyone would gather together and dance. Embracing the warmth and company of one another, words carrying stories or world long gone and those from far beyond. He listened now as he walked around the dizzying maze of tents and allies created by them, equines sharing stories of all the ways they’ve lived. It would come in bit and pieces but Liseli would lie to himself if he didn’t admit a part of him missed it all.
As Liseli ventured through the alleyways the lights from the various lanterns and fires was setting his coat alight. All the copper areas of his body had this metallic sheen over them reflecting off in soft violets, bold periwinkle and blue hues. Though his wings were tucked he was growing used to the slight bumps and soft passing rubs from the other festival attendants. A few individuals yelled at him a passing compliment, though he just smiled politely and continued on. He assumed that some, if not most party goers were doing just that, partying. While he tried to keep his wings small his horns were another matter. It wasn’t long before he had been lost in his own observations that he accidentally entangled them for a moment in some low hanging fabrics. As he shook his head gentle trying to wear off the threads he was brought back to reality. It had been so long since he’d had any type of fun and this seemed like the type of place to indulge himself, even if just a bit.
He headed to the nearest opening where he quickly tried to find a less populated area on the fringes, but somewhere that the larger bonfire in the center’s light could still reach him. He’d almost forgotten what genuine heat felt like after so many weeks in the forests. He stood easily upon his long legs, allowing his crown to dip forward and watch as the other equids dance around joyously. Though it was so loud, Liseli thought he could almost fall asleep. It wasn’t because he was bored he was just at peace and happy. His curious mind thought that he should dance with some of them, but his wall flower nature was still overcoming him. I am having fun.
“Speak”|Thoughts|@ALL WELCOME (first post with my first character)
Every day that goes by continues to cripple Fever’s mind – she is haunted by imaginary scissors coming to cut the length of her tail, to sever the only cultural tie she has to her slave-mates, her mother, and the buried past of her childhood in Solterra. The abstract woman has spent the beginning of her spring season occupied at the festival in Delumine – and now she is home, festivities and false prattle now distant, and she can refocus her attention to the root of reason for her homecoming.
To find her mother.
To see her previous slave-mates free.
To rekindle the very few yet precious relationships that she was sure had blown away in the wind, like ash, to slip through her fingers and forever remain unattainable.
It was hard to imagine when she was a child, sneaking over the wall, desperate to reach the place where the sun rises. Just a filly running through the adobe streets, forever eager to reach the capital, to see where the King sits on his throne.
At the time, Fever truly believed she would see the throne room, certain that every pleasure she was ever denied as a kid would manifest and become tangible gifts: gold riches, luxurious silks, strings of diamonds that reflected the prisms of the sun. All the nobles that surrounded her often, they were such beautiful people – at that time – their elegance and sophistication, the way they effortlessly charmed one another, kissing their friends’ cheeks, enjoying tea and exotic fruits.
Enjoying clean water.
The soldiers in the barracks were treated like royalty as well; showered with blessings, praised like they fell out of Solaris’ womb, and they could never do any wrong as they grabbed their pikes and armor and raced into the sands, hungry to slay the monsters that roam the deserts tirelessly.
Fever would never get that praise. She’d never effortlessly be accepted in the socialite circles of the elite, and her body didn’t carry the muscle or scars of a warrior. She had been born a slave, and so she remained at the bottom of Solaris’ foot – an afterthought as He steps on her.
She was so tired of warring with everyone.
Convinced that the world needed to suffer because no one ever showed her a helping hand when she was a baby. No one ever came to the rescue – the other slaves content to live within the exhibits like work animals.
Fever was exhausted as she climbed the stairs of Day Court, finding an open courtyard that overlooked the countryside – lolling hills of dry brush and sand, and there at the horizon, the ocean. As the sun was beginning to set, she would watch the colors metamorphosized, pale yellow to rose pink, and then to rich salmon and amethyst clouds.
Once upon a time, Fever promised a friend they’d escape Solterra and go see the ocean.
She feels the rims of her eyes sting and she softly closes them, leaning against the railing, taking a deep breath – she swiftly checks her surroundings to ensure she is alone, and although the city was always full of chatter, she was certain no one would approach her here. So she lets down the walls, and with the weight of her responsibilities finally dragging her down, she’d carefully slide down to her knees, crumpled and pressing the side her face against the clay banister. Quickly, the viper bites down on her lip, and she curses Solis, the flame in her ignites into a wildfire that threatens to burn her alive.
But she doesn’t cry like she needs to, she just furrows her brow, hugs herself to the cool adobe stone, trying to breathe through her anger.
She was supposed to take her mother to the capital – and here Fever was, experiencing it without her.
It makes the bile in her stomach bubble and simmer, it makes her mouth taste like rot, it makes her want to scream Temper’s name into the night.
But she doesn’t. She knows that if Temper is still enslaved, that announcing her only saving grace would certainly be the death of her.
If she wasn’t already dead.
Fever kills the thought of her mother possibly never surviving the assault on their masters.
Instead, she remains crumpled, desperately blinking away the rage, determined to pull herself together and continue searching this damned city. Certainly, a few moments alone wouldn’t hurt. Her long tail swats and wraps her up, like a comfort blankie, and she patiently waits for her temper tantrum to pass.
SPOTLIGHT ANNOUNCEMENTS!
All prizes - both signos and EXP - have been distributed!
Congratulate @Dyzzie on winning Member of the Season!
From Scapeh: Dyzzie is just such a light in the chat, always joking, and plotting and encouraging people to get involved. To buy that art, to follow that idea, and she is utterly supportive. For me, personally, I was having a very hard time writing regularly, but she's always down to plot whatever you are, bounce ideas, and be patient while you figure things out. She's so helpful when it comes to offering advice or opinions when you need them, and I am 100% certain that some of the character developments I have going wouldn't be possible without her. She's such a staple of the Novus community, always active with several characters in several threads at any given time, and always looking for more.
Congratulate @Jane on winning Character of the Season!
From Scapeh: I'm so excited to see how Jane handles her current situation, how having the relationship with Veil will help her blossom, and maybe heal herself, and forgive herself. Jane is feeling a lot of turmoil over family, but this season looks like it might be the sign of her finally shifting into something greater and better for herself, and I cannot wait to see where that leads her.
From Nastyalicorn: I love reading and watching this relationship evolve - there is a magical and wholesome bond between these two lovely ladies; i look forward to continuing to read their journey as they navigate all that is to come their way. No matter what is thrown at them, I know their friendship will thrive and grow.
From Morphi: The emotions and fun in this just run so deeply.
Congratulate @Veil Nebula on winning Quote of the Season!
From Winds of Change — "Because you were my star when my loneliness was closing in like a black hole. You may have left, but I have to also acknowledge you were going home. We both know, I would have done the same to you, if the stars had told me how."
From Scapeh: Honestly, I'm trying not to cry again, haha. This is just such a pure response from Veil to her beloved sister. The understanding, the compassion, the empathy is so raw and beautiful. The unspoken forgiveness that Jane needed to hear in this moment, to know that everything was going to be okay, was still right between these two women, thick as thieves. It really gets me. If you haven't read the whole thing by now after I've made three nominations from it, you really should.
NOMINATIONS WILL BE OPEN UNTIL 11:59P EST ON 04/07/22!
Spotlight Nominations for Year 508 Spring are now open! We're looking at YOU guys to give us the nominations on who you think would be the best for the following categories:
MEMBER of the Season
@nastyalicorn, who won Player OTS for Year 507 Winter, isn't available for nomination!
"Because you were my star when my loneliness was closing in like a black hole. You may have left, but I have to also acknowledge you were going home. We both know, I would have done the same to you, if the stars had told me how."
"Talk it out with me then, Jarek. Tell me; what it is about Torielle that made you so certain she was a prize presented to you. Perhaps, if we can figure out where this all started, we can see things have led you astray, and we can return you to the proper path of growth and moving forward."
And ideally, help him realize Torielle was not a gift he could unwrap and control.
Unwrapping Torielle was to be her job.
Prizes
Spotlight WINNERS will receive 250 signos, +5EXP and be highlighted in our Spotlight section! Member otS Winner can choose any (1) of their characters to apply their +5 EXP prize to, or save it for a future character.
First person who nominated a Spotlight winner will also receive an extra 250 signos and +2EXP to any (1) of their characters.
Anyone who submits a nomination will receive 50 signos and +1EXP to any (1) of their characters, up to a max of 250 signos/5EXP.
Rules
Post the below form in a reply to this thread, or message staff directly if you'd like to stay anonymous.
You may nominate for 1, 2, 3, or all categories - and may make multiple nominations per category!
You can nominate those already listed under current nominations, but be aware that multiple votes won't increase their chances of winning! Please try and suggest someone different, if you're able to.
We know it's tempting but unfortunately, you cannot nominate yourself or threads that you've participated in!
Inactive/pending characters or members are not eligible to win Spotlights, including if they were active when nominated by deactivated before the winners were determined.
Players/Characters who won the previous season's Spotlights cannot be nominated this time around. This doesn't apply to those who were nominated last time but not chosen. They may be nominated again!
<b>Which OTS</b>: CHARACTER, PAIR, THREAD, OR MEMBER OF THE SEASON
<b>Show us</b>: TAG THE CHARACTER(s) OR MEMBER VIA @NAME, or <a href="LINK">TO THE THREAD</a>
<b>Reason:</b> TELL US WHY YOU CHOSE WHO/WHAT YOU CHOSE!
<b>Send signos/exp to:</b> @CHARACTER. MUST BE THE SAME FOR BOTH SIGNOS & EXP. WHICH OF YOUR CHARACTERS WOULD YOU LIKE TO RECEIVE THE 1EXP/50SIGNOS FOR SUBMITTING A NOM? YOU CAN ALSO CHOOSE TO SAVE FOR LATER
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take a drunk girl home
let her sleep all alone
leave her keys on the counter
your number by the phone
pick up her life she threw on the floor
The air was sweet to the taste. Smoke curling up from applewood, as it lit the world up with the flickering, dancing hues of amber and burgundy. Staring at the flames as they danced, coiling up into the air was bittersweet to her heart, as bittersweet as the knowledge, that if her father was aware she was here; the consequences would be dire. Not just because the 'accident' was out in public, but because the entire situation hummed in her blood with the familiar wildness that her mother had been known for. With her eyes closed, basking in the heat, the glow; of those swirling flames, the pyre could shift to the ones lit in her memory - laughter and joyous voices switching to old melodies as rich as the sands, as desert dancers swirled, and played, and the tribe guided her step by step through the dances of their cultures, as they bedded down within the circle of the caravan wagons. She remembered those days with a sense of bittersweet desire, with a heavy heart of one who had everything and traded it for nothing.
She drew the khaki shawl slightly tighter around her features, shrouding her face, distorting and obscuring her identity as she had been trained to do under Addy's gentle guidance. Ways to give her freedom while avoiding the open palm swing of her father's dominance. Power and wealth had no protection when you were the spare. No, not even the spare. Because the other daughters lived in the manor with precious gems, silk, and satin, women of power and wealth and beauty . . . she was the one that shouldn't be there. A daughter born from the night of passion with a passing gypsy, returning in the wind, long enough to wreck a life. She was her father's greatest regret, the precious treasure tossed aside unless she had political use.
He had barely looked her way until he realized she was now of marrying age - and suddenly she had just enough value as the highest bidder. An auction for who would be her next enslaver, when her heart yearned for the freedoms of those desert nights, existing within the caravan of gypsies, a wildflower growing in the sunshine, warmth, and abundance of love beneath the open sky. Now she was a rare Juliet rose that was grasping for the faintest hint of sunlight as she is trapped under the shade and shadow of her half-siblings, her father. Only Addy provided her with that much-needed attention, ever the attentive older brother who wanted to see her flourish. The only individual she had fighting for her, in her own corner.
But tonight, she wasn't Swahili Atraer. Beneath the stars that lit the sky as if they had been flecked into existence by a painter's bristled brush; she too felt that returned sense of freedom to just be Swahili, as her mother had wanted. Wild, free, exotic. She stood still on the outermost reaches of the bonfire, watching the other dancers, a small smile on her muzzle from the shadows created by the dense population of colorful tents. She'd avoided coming earlier in the day when others were more curious of those around them. Now, later in the evening with wine and alcohol flowing freely, and many individuals already clinging to one another, she felt a little safer to embrace that rare moment of freedom.
And in the darkened shadows of those looming tents, with the glow of the bonfire in the distance, the wildflower felt her limbs step into the familiar movements, delicate ankles following the steps as if she was once more being guided by her mother, and grandmother, aunts, and cousins. She felt their touches upon her skin, phantoms in the night, guiding her through the motions once more, and the bittersweet smile turned to a moment of joy, as she spun, and swirled, like a petal in the wind, a long-stemmed flower in the breeze, and child of desert rain, and temptations. In this rare moment, separated from the world, the figure felt freer than she had been since she showed up on her father's doorstep at the tender age of 6 months old - hearing how she should never show herself in public, how she shouldn't exist.
In this rare moment, she felt she existed, even if she remained in the shadows, never dancing before the flames of life, always obscured from the eyes of the others. A hidden treasure that's been purposely hidden behind shinier, well cared for toys on a child's shelf. An ancient relic, unknown under years of muck and dirt, just waiting for someone to polish her and see her shine. Until that day, however; when the freedom she yearned for was achieved, she didn't mind dancing in the dark, her laugh soft, carefree, igniting upon a few of those ears who stayed to the edge just as she had as they would glance towards her, and smile slightly at the hidden wildflower dancing among the cover of obscurity.
"Speech" Thoughts
@For anyone Notes: <3 FIrst Swa post <3 <3
—
« I was a princess made of ashes; there is nothing left of me to burn.
Now it's time for a queen to rise. »
Sovereign... The word was terrifying and electrifying all in one. A word that meant the world to many that heard it. A word that described a select few that put their courts before their own whims. A word that nearly sent the mare to her knees. The court had decided to agree with Liam. To give her the chance to prove herself more than just a simple blacksmith. To give her purpose that went above and beyond everything she once thought her world would have. These thoughts drove Uzuri from the bed in her home. The home she was still trying to decide what to do with. Even though she knew that she had a place in the citadel, she also knew she couldnt give up the home that she had once shared with her mother.
Pacing through the house, she gazed over the boxes and trunks that were ready for their journey to her new home. Was she truly ready for this? Shaking her head, she moved to her armory. What was left at least. Nearly everything had been packed and was ready for transport. Almost. Sitting on a hook, a pendant was gleaming in the early morning light. Even though she had not made it for herself, the mare could not find it in herself to part with the striking piece. A richly colored blue sapphire sparkled in its silver setting, the piece simple and elegant without being over the top or boring. "What do I do with you?" She whispered softly as she took it from the hook and placed it into a small wooden box to protect it.
"Still struggling?" The warm voice of her bonded danced along her flesh and brought a surge of warmth to the mare. Uzi turned to see the vividly colored creature and smiled. "Maybe just a little." Uzi laughed as she approached the canine and nuzzled her back. "I never expected to be special, to be a big part of the court. Not again..." She whispered, her chocolate eyes closed as she pressed her muzzle to the warm fur. "Now I am one of the biggest. I am one side of the face of Dusk. That idea alone is intimidating. What if I fail?" She asked softly.
"But what if you succeed? What if instead of falling, you fly higher than ever and make a real difference?" Neema asked her in return, vivid green eyes warm and kind. "Think of failures as opportunities. You have the chance to learn and grow when things dont go well. Dont dwell on the bad. Let each possible failure be a stepping point from where you try again and reach higher." The maned wolf said before licking the mare's cheek.
"When did you grow so wise, my dear?" Uzi snorted as she ruffled the fur and then lead the way out of the house. "I wont find that strength staying inside of the house. I need to be out, to meet those that are part of my court and familiarize myself with everyone. No queen can successfully rule from behind the forge." She said with a laugh as she entered the court proper. Neema stayed at her side, a comforting presence as Uzuri lifted her head and smiled at those around her.
"Uzuri"
"Neema"
@-- Notes: Open to any <3 Uzi wants to start meeting her court properly
Credit: Character by Chaosy, Art by LizzArtStudios
looking at it now, last december we were built to fall apart then fall back together your necklace hanging from my neck
The stallion was abuzz with energy, a boyish, handsome grin on his painted muzzle as he seemed to hover between the state of giddy excitement, and nervous pride. He was finishing the final touches on his stall. To one side, a rack with dainty necklaces, bracelets, and all kind of exquisite bead work, accented with feathers, and leather ties, all hand crafted, hand dyed - clearly his pride and joy in his work. Off on another side was carefully laid out leatherwork, bags of all sorts with careful beaded images: birds in flight, small flowers, elegant motifs all done by his own hand (or magic rather) on the flap of each piece of carefully put together work. Other sorts of jewelry - ties for the hair, feathers to braid in, dangling beaded works that were in such odds with the silver, crystal and gems he'd seen others put out.
This was where he was nervous. Next to fine works of art - crystals, gems, bells and priceless metals, his stall looked so . . . old, antiqued. Beads, and feathers, leather and thread. But he still stood tall, as he finished repositioning one of the necklaces topped with an odd tooth he'd found washed up by the beach. Arrowhead pendants, shark teeth, odd, but pretty rocks wrapped up in leather and wire. Techniques that have been long traded out for other means, yet each piece, despite having taken so long, had clearly been worked with care.
The good ol' boy turned to head into his actual stall, where the rest of the wears, the more impressive ones were put on display, packs hanging on stands - a few types of leather armor, some for work, others clearly ornamental on display. The stallion himself happily plopped down on a pile of blankets and pillows in a corner, as Tyee, his wolfdog pup ran in circles around the interior of the stall. Keokuk was nearby, Rylan could feel his presence, despite his spirit stag of a bonded being invisible to the eye. The stallion himself relaxes, and pulls out his work bag, and lays out a small multicubied case filled with beads, and a long piece of fabric cut for a cloak, and began to continuing to carefully sew the beads onto the edging in the diamond pattern he had started a week earlier - keeping himself busy, hoping someone may just choose to stop by, rather than over look his wears for something that shined a little brighter.
the night we couldn't quite forget
"Speech" Thoughts
Keokuk
@Anyone <3 Notes: <3
when we decided (we decided) to move the furniture so we could dance baby, like we stood a chance two paper airplanes flying, flying and i remember thinking
are we out of the woods yet?
The festival had turned into a bitter disappointment. The forms of others seemed to slip past him continuously, writhing in their hedonistic enjoyment. Mares, stallions, creatures of all kinds interacted around him. It felt as though the world had lost its balance, and he had experienced a less than stellar interaction with Torielle. She didn’t seem to want to be around him, and he couldn’t piece together as to why that might be.
He felt like he had tried to provide her with all the reasons why they were fated. She obviously didn’t believe a single thing he had said. She had fled his side in both their short interactions. Each moment striking further into his heart his obsession with her, the further she slipped from his grasp the more he desired her. Nothing else in this world held significance. Nothing else mattered.
Until they were side by side, running in the night. He felt that she was the balance he required, that was why the gods had driven him here. He suspected his mother would be fond of Torielle. He felt as though he knew her, they had been born on this very plane for each other. The smell of smoke reminded him of his mothers cooking. The joy of the citizens around him, reminded him of what his home had been like before he had lost his mother.
He stood in deep introspection, icey blue eyes staring into the dancing flickering flames. The desert devils kicking up their heels and tormenting him at his inadequacies. Taunting that they had clearly chosen the wrong stallion for the job, that he may as well just not bother. Others snidely remarked that he simply had to try harder, that she was unimpressed with his lack of effort. Other whispering voices simply told him that maybe there were others that would like him better.
It was difficult at times to piece together the separate whispers of the desert gods. The devils and gods were much the same. They were different forms of the same grains of sand of the desert back home. They too had traveled all this way with him. He wondered what they would form to look like for Torielle or others if he could show them. What things would they whisper to her?
Uzuri breathed in the fresh air. She had been secluded within her home so much, trying to come to terms with the changes that seemed to be coming for her. The knowledge of what Liam had recently asked weighed on her and fears were circling around her mind as she worked. Her work lately had not been as consistent as before, but she had still made beautiful weapons.
Uzi and Neema had brought a large chest full of weapons with them, offerings for those that were enjoying the festival and seeking possible wares. Most were pieces that she had made in the past. Within the chest, however, was a smaller chest. Inside, a small collection of jewelry pieces were gleaming. While she had not been brave enough to start working on armor, at least not until she felt more settled in her world, she had spent time working with various metals and materials to make beauty as well as strength.
Finding the tent that she had been assigned, Uzi sighed and smiled at her companion. Taking the cart into the tent, she tucked it in the back corner and began sorting items onto a few tables. The smaller chest of jewelry, she tucked in a corner where she could keep an eye on it. Once she finished, she gazed at the tent of goods with a sigh.
"Uzuri, breathe. You have beautiful pieces and you are starting to have a place to belong. Stop stressing." The canid huffed and she curled up under one of the tables where she would be safe from hard hooves. The mare laughed softly and turned to gaze at those that were mingling outside of her tent.
"That may be, but it is still hard to not be afraid of the possibility of losing everything when I blink an eye. What if Liam changes his mind? What if I fail at helping him?" The fears that had swamped her were starting to come from her lips and she shoved them back down as she neatened her appearance. "Sorry… control slipped and words erupted from the fear." She murmured as she settled where she could see the entrance and her wares.
