Are you using any items? All items are in Sol’s account: Healthy pregnancy, choose gender (male). I do have a guaranteed pregnancy as well, but I dont think we need it due to the thread amount between the pair.
If the parents are of separate Courts, what parent will the foal live with? Both - Dusk
If the conception is successful, do you have an RPer for the foal(s)? Yes - Chaosy
i hold on so nervously to me and my drink
i wish it was cooling me, but so far, has not been good
it's been shitty and i feel awkward, as i should
The morning broke through her dreary state as the mare blinked open her eyes from where she and Gareth had stopped after they had set out late yesterday to journey back to Denocte. The warmth against her back and the soft, but steady movement against her side was all she needed to know that Gareth was still asleep as she lifted her head slowly, and nuzzled his cheek in a gentle greeting, being careful to not wake him up. A slight yawn was pulled from her as she blinks her gaze a little more, before lowering her head back down, using her long, bundled mane as a pillow to rest her cheek against - only for her muzzle to twist that the scent of smoke and wood trapped in those locks, making her sniff and sneeze after a moment.
Her gaze cut to the locks with a slightly narrowed expression as she lifts her head to actually take a moment to peer at the locks bound carefully by amber bands - the metal gleaming, gems sparkling, but the hair itself showed signs of being well over due for a restyling. Her quick gaze over her tail as she whipped it towards her side proved that. How convenient, for her, they had chosen to rest at Rapax River, soothed to sleep last night by their joined body heat, and the river rushing nearby. She carefully shifts, pulling away from Gareth, her motions smooth but careful to attempt to keep from waking him up, her tail carefully guiding his body into a restful position when she had to sneak out from his embrace.
Once free, she had to shake off the lingering cold from being removed from his side, but she eagerly made her way towards the river. Her tail would be dealt with first, it was always easier to unbind. A couple of careful prodding, after wetting her hair was usually all she needed to do, to properly unveil the very small latch, that would allow the bands to unsnap from her tail, Setting the gold and amber bands aside to replace later, she carefully unwound the long curls, the pale cream and ivory reptilian tail exposing as the long hair that grew from the underside and tip of the tail unwound and was soon trailing into the water, the length startling her for a moment. It's easy to forget how long her hair is thanks to how she binds it up, but it never failed to amaze her. Next however came the actual mane, and that was always more difficult.
She whisks her tail, sending those creamy strands away from her body as she prods and pokes to find the hinges on those bands, and soon they join the others, the long, wild mass of curls unwinding from the tight coils that help pull it up and out of the way, and soon her mane joins her tail in painting the water. It's at this point she happily lays down in the shallows, just letting her hair soak, watching the river run slightly dirty as it pulls the smoke and ash from not only her mane and tail, but her body as well. It doesn't take long for most of the muck to be removed from her body, and for much of the trapped foilage and grime in her long mane and tail to be loosened enough for her to begin to tackle the actual act of washing her hair.
But it's also the more difficult part, as those wild curls obscure her vision while she's trying to sort through the curls, removing twigs and leaves as she finds them, trying to keep the areas she's cleaned separated from the strands she hasn't touched yet. A gruff snort leaves her muzzle as she tries to toss her mane and forelock from her face, annoyance visible as she once more tries to sort through the mass of curls, only to become trapped in the curls, ears flicking back as she lifts her head, strands twisting around her muzzle even as she shakes her head to dislodge the most of them.
A hint of a sound catches her attention and she breaths a sigh of relief, "Gareth!" His name is a please, a huff of desperation, "Help, please!" She begs, as she finishes untangling the few strands for her muzzle, to be able to properly look up, amber eyes searching for her stallion, her expression borderline desperate, looking more like a wet, fluffy dog than a dangerous mare as the curls seem to just tangle around her, "I just wanted to wash my hair so it would stop smelling like smoke!" She explained in a whine, "But it just keeps tangling and obscuring my vision. Will you help me?"
this club has got to be the most pretentious thing
since i thought you and me
i am imagining, a dark lit place, or your place or my place
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: She's like 'nothing weird here. I'm not about to cry out of frustration. But . . . HELP ME.'
well i'm not paralyzed, but i seem to be struck by you
i want to make you move, because you're standing still
if your body matches what your eyes can do
you'll probably move right through, me on my way to you.
She hadn't exactly been invited to this festival , nor had she signed up for anything , and yet ... yet Eirene had found herself drawn to it regardless .
It's here , at home , so why not drop in ? It isn't as if she intends to do harm , or bother anyone . The small zorse had found herself wandering into the midst of it with her satchel against her side , full of herbs and salves as always , and her ears twitch slightly , lifting upward as she listens to the voices around her of various passerby . Once or twice , she gives a nod of her antlered head , smiling softly at someone that greets her , until she's moving onward .
She's just come from Denocte , actually . Visiting a friend there , a small horse much like herself , one that has had issues blending and coping with herd life . Poor Faye , she had a lot to learn , but Eirene had been more than happy to help her out and trade herbs for gems .
Now however , it's time for her own enjoyment . To settle and find a small spark of happiness in the midst of what's been going on . What she doesn't expect is to nearly bump into someone , blinking in surprise and bringing her striped body back a step or two , ears falling back a little sheepishly . " I'm terribly sorry I --- Torielle ? " Another blink of bright eyes , and Eirene feels a surge of warmth over her body , a giddy little laugh in the back of her throat that slips out as soft giggling .
" It's been a long time . You're as gorgeous as ever . "
he sun limping its way across the sky, leaning heavily on the western horizon and staining the clouds in its blood. I have peeled myself away from the river and traced a path down Amare instead. The creek babbles in my ears as I walk along. Low hanging tree branches sweep across my spine as they reach their leaves toward the water longingly, hoping for a single touch. The sound of the water is as pleasant a white noise as I could hope for, drowning out the hunger of the lioness in my bones.
I walk for several long minutes before stopping. Fylax rests in the hollow of a tree, against the bank of the creek. I watch them curl up into a marble white mound, looking startling out of place in the spring green growth—like a lingering pile of snow. The gryphon’s feathers fall flat to their neck, long tail curling to cover their beak. I cannot rest. There are too many gaping spaces inside of me for sleep. I am too busy thinking of the mountains, and the moon, and the stars, and how they will all judge me one way or another. I am too busy thinking of the sea, and of the ways I would like to be something new.
I have spent so long as an other-thing, I am not sure if there is a way back through; a way back to something that is not caged and pacing and feral. I lean my shoulder against a tree and lift my head to the sky. My hair falls back like a curtain, revealing sapphire blue eyes darkened in the slowly vanishing light. I have blades and armors and starving magic and I have always tried so hard to be anything other than what those things have made me. I have failed, every time. I know now who I was meant to be. There is no escaping the way the gods carved me, what they breathed into me when they gave me life.
all that blood was never once beautiful. it was just red.
am lingering for too long in this place. I should have moved on from the festival, which has little to offer me, but there is a part of me beneath the untamed and the savage that remembers how much I once enjoyed these sorts of events, though at one time I hadn’t understood them. There is a part of me, uncaged and free, that remembers planning them for my own people and loving to see how they enjoyed the result. Somehow, I wonder if there is any part of me that is actually left like that.
I weave around bodies like a river cuts around a stone and pause before a booth when something catches my eye. The table is dressed in Solterran colors and modest decor, but laid out upon it on trays and plates are sun cakes, candied cactus and agave-smoked sugar cubes. The familiar treats bring a memory to the surface and I find myself looking for the dark skinned, sand-colored eyes of the man I had once met selling such goods in this very meadow so long ago. How long has it been?
He is not there, of course. The food laid out upon the table is no doubt a small sample of regular delicacies from the court of sun. They are still too sweet for my taste, but I have lingered so long at the table that I purchase a cake and take it with me. I cannot stomach it, there is some big wide emptiness in me that cannot be filled with food. Instead, when I find a young boy loitering among the tables of food looking like he could use an extra meal I smile and offer the cake to him. His eyes widen in excitement and as he prances away I can already see him shoving it into his mouth.
Perhaps, I think, loping along like a wild cat, I will make my way south instead. I wish to remember what the ocean sounds like when it lashes against the shore. It used to be that I never went to bed without the sound of the sea in my ears, and now It has been so long since I have heard it properly, or seen it even. This is just not where I am meant to be.
Immortal hair streaked with daggers and iron filling her lungs each breath invitingly toxic
I leave the quiet, comforting forest behind; leave the rushing, roaring Rapax behind. There are multitudes of tents and booths marking the meadow ahead. I am shocked, somehow, to see the festival, and I am reminded of the last time I had been in Delumine under similar circumstances. I am no longer the woman that I was then. I am wilder, more reminiscent of a caged thing. I enter the meadow like a starving wolf, Fylax just beside me.
The twinge in my chest is inescapable, and I bare my teeth like a cornered dog, pushing down the feeling. Pushing down the reminder. By the time I make my way through the scattered tents and coaches, I have dropped the snarl and composed my face. The only indication of the unrest is the turbulent sea of my eyes. I am reminding myself that it is not night, that there are no glowing flowers like starlight. I am no longer a queen.
I pause at a handful of tables to browse their offerings. There are foods, services and a many other goods to catch the interest of various equines from all ages and walks of life. I walk like a wild cat, muscles flexing smoothly beneath my striped coat, feeling a little overwhelmed by the number of equines here. Life in the mountains had not helped. My shoulder brushes rather unceremoniously with another’s, and I half-turn, an apology on my tongue.
Posted by: Uzuri - 02-17-2022, 10:54 PM - Forum: The Dusk Court
- No Replies
Pure of Heart
Morning had dawned bright and clear, a song within the heart of the smith that had smiled at the vivid light. She left her bed, making her way to her kitchen to gather breakfast and coffee. There was an itching in her bones that was not going away. A desire to create, to make something beautiful. This draw that was calling her from the forge in her shop.
Finishing her breakfast, Uzi did her usual clean up of her home. One never knew if someone was going to appear and she didn’t want to be seen as slacking since she had only recently returned to her home. When she finished, she headed right to where the siren call was strongest. All of her creations that she deemed worthy were resting like gems in a room just beyond her forge. Each was lovingly polished and razor sharp. Uzi was too much of a perfectionist to allow even a single flawed work to make it to the world around her, not that she had sold any since she had returned.
Heading to a chest in the corner, she selected bars of meteorite and a high carbon steel. She began to lay them together, eyes picking out flaws that she could work out and the colors that would erupt in the Damascus. With a smile, she began to heat and weld the different metals together to create a billet. Once she had the metals combined and working together to her satisfaction, she paused.
"What are you creating today?" Came a voice behind her. She turned her splashed face toward the burnt orange canine and smiled gently.
"I am not completely sure… I am thinking a dagger with the metal composition and the size of the billet. Maybe a pair of throwing knives… That could be a pretty pair." She was murmuring her words, her eyes dancing over the materials before her as she tried to decide. The maned wolf disappeared as she split the billet in half and began to draw them out into the rough shape. There was an art to her work, a dance that seemed to take place around her as she worked.
Hours flew by, her mind fully into her craft. When she finally paused, it was lunch time and she had two well formed throwing knives. After a break, it would be time to create handles and then work on finishing them. Setting them down, she left her forge and went to find a quick meal that she could use to sustain her work.
"Uzuri"
"Neema"
@-- Notes: Open for any <3 She is losing herself in the craft of forging <3
do you believe in reinarnation?
'cause i thought i saw your soul
Where the hell was I? Other than in some sort of hell created from my own decision making.
A festival, they said. How fun, they declared.
What I fool I was to believe them. To come to this place.
Suuuuuuuure, it looked cool, but all around me bodies pressed din, tighter and tighter until I was certain that they were going to trample me. All around me were loud voices. Some shouting to buy their food, another asking others to buy their jewelry, a third sung out the joys of the cards, the ones laid out on the table like they held all of the fucking divine answers. Let me clue you in on a little secret, ain't no way those cards will tell you anything. Because divine shit, it ain't nothing but a way to hurt, and prod and breaks you apart. I wasn't expecting how much fucking happy go lucky, all is well in the world bullshit would be in these tent-lined rows.
Okay, so my mood soured the first time I heard someone pedaling their 'talent' with the cards. Messages from the gods. Here is what they have to say. Bunch of bogus if you ask me. Cause I've been questioning the gods for life times, and want to know what it has done for me. Not a single thing. Here I am, stuck in a never-ending cycle of death, rebirth, death, rebirth, death, rebirth. Oh, I bet your thinking how romantic, I'm stuck in a reincarnation loop. Well here's the big, fat, ugly truth, this ain't some romantic comedy of two star-crossed lovers always missing out on one another. I don't exist for the soul purpose to reconnect with my happily ever after, a soulmate that I cross lifetimes for.
If you're looking for that story, try my sister, Runa.
Some pretty girls get all the luck . . .
But I'm just me. Just Asta. Always here, always have been. Stuck in a constant loop, a constant cycle. Always remembering, always hurting, always hating each time I open my eyes in a new infant body, forced to grow up again and again and again and again. And always remembering . . . that's the hardest part is always fucking remembering. That stallion leaning against the caravan, hitting on the pale mare? He was once a lowly farmer in another life, but he grew the best peaches around. That large mare over yonder, the one that is looking through the weaponry, here's the funny part, the blushing little blacksmith mare trying to sell her items - I've seen at least seven different life times worth of them ending up together. Seven. The little pegasus that is chasing the unicorn through the stalls, that unicorn killed that pegasus three life times ago, over a gambling debt.
But do any of them remember any of that - nope, not a single thing . . . But me, I just can't forget . . . . And it makes it even harder to remember that they have forgotten, the ones form my past lives. The young mare rearranging her collection of flowers - fifteen life times ago, that was one of my daughters. The stallion trying to steal from that baker's stall - I married him thirty two life times ago. We've married a total of five times, in fact. Not once in those life times - or even this one, does he remember the me of the past.
So you'll have to forgive me for having a sour mood as soon as the gods, the divine world is mentioned. Because, as pretty as this place was. As excited as I was to look around, as curious as I was to see what was on display . . . As soon as I step in, I'm reminded of festivals of the past, I'm seeing faces I thought I would become dull too when they look through me without recognizing me.
I knew I should have stayed home.
Why am I such a glutton for punishment?
FROM THE MOUTH INSIDE THE MIND
@All. Everyone Welcome. Come on in. Notes:: So uhm, anyone can come in, I beg you, interact with girly girl here, yeah?
flashing and dancing on the horizon
shades of jade and emerald
Visions of your pretty face send me into hyper space
Caught up in a palentary world
Once again, the star had taken flight.
Her excitement would have been contagious if not for the fact she was making this journey alone. She smiled, her heart light as her wings carried her up higher into the sky, stardust sparkling against the bright robin blue of the sky, casting a veil of purples, pinks, and blues that left a wafting trail behind her, a shooting star.
She angled into her descent, her gaze locked ahead.
Even from the distance she was at, she could feel the power of this place humming in unison with the soft thrumming of the star in place of her heart. It was all-encompassing, surrounding her and filling her with a sense of peace, purpose, and love. A powerful feeling for a star who had spent the majority of her new life entirely alone before she had fallen through the atmosphere, struck this very rock, and found herself trapped within its gravitational field.
How odd to think that such a thing no longer bothered her.
She no longer felt trapped when she walked among the trees or grasses of this land. She no longer so this world as a simple rock. It had somehow become something more in the past few months, and she knew a large portion of that had to do with Torielle's gentle mannerisms and soothing aura. Whatever it was about the dappled and veiled beauty, the antlered woman held a powerful position within Veil's world.
Today, however, Veil aimed to shake those thoughts from her mind.
Today was to be a day of worship, and she doubted that she should be worshiping the image of her best friend . . . even if such an idea made her heart do some sort of odd flipflop. Instead, she beat her wings, arching them as she touched down in the center of the hallowed ground, surrounded on all sides by effigies and temples. She moved in silence, a ghostly figure leaving stardust in her wake, letting it pool to the ground as she bowed to each of the temples, small feathers being plucked from her own wings. Those dainty feathers were left upon the patrons of the courts, but it was before their father she allowed herself to fall to her knees.
She carefully plucked these feathers.
Choosing the prettiest, brightest, the healthiest one from each wing, tying them together with strands of her own mane, and presenting them before him. Was this truly a good enough offering. She didn't have money to buy them precious gifts, and trinkets, or the ability to prepare them meals, a fest and treats. She had nothing to offer them, but her own devotion, her own flesh, her own feather. She'd rip the hide from her hip if it was asked of her. Her eyes closed, head still bowed before King of Time, allowing herself to just exist before him. She made no motion to move.
The voices had her pausing, listening.
An offering! A gift. Treasured. Loved. Sister. Sister. Look! At the mental nudging from the stars, the universe, Veil opened her eyes to stare in wonder as her feathers shimmer, slowly disappearing, and in its place, an amulet is left. Her eyes are wide as she hesitantly reaches out, her muzzle touching the jewelry before her gaze turns, devotedly up to Tempus's relief.
"My Lord . . . Thank you."
FROM THE MOUTH INSIDE THE MIND
Open to anyone who might stumble upon her xD @Thomasin Notes:: I love her little worshipy threads <3 Where she can just be a happy monk, basking in the feelings she gets from Veneror Peak <3
Breathin' in you give me air, I'm living on your solar flare
Could you be my super nova girl?
The shadows of the late evening reached and stroked his sides, almost hiding him in their embrace. Startling icy blue eyes stood out against the tones of smooth gray and black. Jarek had come to the spring festival in search of fate. The fate that had breached his existence since he had seen her here, in this very field not so long ago. The unnamed beauty that had sparked an electric response within his being. It had since grown to a certainty, the dreams he had been experiencing only becoming more vivid as the night crawled closer.
In his dreams, they ran together on smooth desert sands. Running together in perfect formation, running towards their lives together. The moon above watched them, and often they gazed at the stars and the gods that had blessed their very meeting. Swirling desert gods formed in the sand and the skies to herald this new chapter in history. There were many of them, sometimes they melded together, changed or disappeared. They were a constant shifting force of mystery, much like the sands themselves.
Jarek had worked hard to create something he felt would catch her attention. Perhaps to show her how deeply they could be connected on a mental level. He felt it in her bones that this was something she would enjoy. The fine drape and the leatherbound book he had crafted for her. What she would write in its pages would be up to the mystery woman. His chest stirred with excited anticipation to discover what else they would learn together. He felt like he had just woken up properly for the first time, the first night of the rest of his life. He hoped that by the next sunrise that they would be closer together.
He breathed deeply, he reminded himself that he had seemingly startled her the last time they met. She had found her escape from his overbearing revelation. He struggled to contain his emotions in the moment, but he kept the forced cool outer exterior he had been trained with. His spiritual journey and that of his warrior training mingled into a confusing state of confidence and quiet self containment.
He moved smoothly and with focus, his eyes examining each mare he moved past looking for her. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once. He stood beside a central fire-pit sighing softly. He had never been so encaptured and infatuated with anyone before. It had felt truly fated that he had seen her. It definitely wasn't a coincidence that had led him to that moment. He suspected that the journey to Novus had been entirely driven by the gods to lead him to meeting the stranger. If he was right, she had to be here somewhere.
