Are you using any items? twins, and healthy pregnancy (both with araxes)
If the parents are of separate Courts, what parent will the foal live with? WHAT PARENT/COURT WILL THE FOAL LIVE WITH
If the conception is successful, do you have an RPer for the foal(s)? yup, ink and me lol
Is there anything else you'd like us to know? SO MUCH PLOTTING HAS GONE IN TO THIS RIP. also the threads are basically onging at the moment, I wasn't sure if they had to be completed completed since in the rules it just said 'threads together/interacted' >.>
For once.. it was nightfall as she graced these lands. The water was calm and tranquil, compared to earlier in the day when it had been roaring and churning with the distant storms that had struck close to her heart. As was her instinct, she had hidden herself away in a cave until it had all passed, and all that remained now was the fact that the sands were wetter than usual and gritty as she walked, tangling in to the strands of her tail and turning the tips an odd white-ish hue in the moonlight.
The heat wasn't so bad now either, after the storm. The water was still as a mirror, and she gazed across the surface, allowing herself to only take a few more steps, slipping her hooves in to the grasses nearby, exhaling as she did. It was calm again, though there were tensions running among Denocte, something that had nothing to do with the weather.
Carefully, she shifted her weight, only to suddenly lift her head, wings ruffling and her heart leaping upward for a moment in her throat. "Oh no.. oh no no no..." She rushed herself forward, almost breaking out in to a gallop as she did, but stopping just short, dancing on her hooves and looking antsy.
She could have sworn she'd smelled... Torstein. But he couldn't be here, could he? It would make things much worse if Reichenbach found the Day Court Warden wandering among Denocte lands. All the same, she seemed to almost dance on her hooves with worry, her head tilting one way and then the other, before her ears went back and her gaze fell on him.
"Tor!" It was more so a hiss, and she moved forward quickly, small and.. puffy in a way, upset. Araxes puffed out her wings and looked up at the stallion, her eyes wide more than angry. "You shouldn't be here, it's dangerous!" Unlike Solterra, where the lands like deserts could be wandered through without much confrontation, this.. well. A worried sound settled on her lips, and she tried to calm herself, taking in a breath.
Well. If someone came and saw them, she would have to stop something bad from happening, right? Right.
@Torstein || i made another thread bc i suck im so sorry LOL
Relations between Night and Day had been.. tense, to say the least. Araxes knew they were, and yet, here she was wandering deep in to Solterra, her wings fanned out behind her head in an effort to keep herself cool with the breezes that felt more like blows from a furnace. Solterra in the middle of the summer wasn't the.. best of ideas, but she was curious, she wanted to go. It was likely she'd hear it from Reichenbach when she got back, but she was a driven young thing, wanting to explore the lands and ind the plants that lay hidden in the jewel of the deserts.
It felt like hours until she reached the oasis, her spotted frame shuddering, patches of sweat formed under her legs and against her chest and sides. Her mane felt heavier than usual, as did her tail, and her head dropped before.. she saw it. The glint and scent of water was unmistakable, and even in her.. odd state, she found her head lifting and her breath coming out in staggering puffs. She had run out of water earlier, with the flasks kept in her bag.
Carefully, she removed it, stepping forward and splashing in to the water, trembling as the cool liquid seeped in to her fur and against her delicate skin. Araxes pushed her head under the water even, taking in a mouthful at the same time as she lifted it, and shook herself. Walking seemed a bit tiresome lately, but not that long ago, she could have walked for long stretches and been fine. Now it was like she was gaining weight and getting tired more easily.
But she had made it.
Laughing breathlessly, she leaned her head back and basked in the sun now that she was wet, enjoying the sensation of beads of water rolling over her body as she cooled off. Refilling her flasks was a priority here, but so was gently picking herbs and, well. Finding Torstein of course. She had come for two reasons; the herbs here at the oasis were rare, and plucking a few would provide her with the seeds necessary for growing them back home, and seeing Torstein was... a bonus.
The stallion hadn't been seen in a while, and there was a pull in her chest that always seemed to tug her toward the large male. If she was lucky, it would be Tor she would run in to, and not someone else in Solterra.
@Torstein || she's here to see the pretty water i swear
The blue-black stallion sought respite from the heat of day, climbing to the heavens in search of fresher air. It wasn’t that the salt and sand of Solterra were distasteful to him – for in truth, Voltaire had long forgotten what it felt like to have something for his own pleasure and comfort. It was a place to live, plain and simple. He would serve the kingdom, because it was his duty to serve. He would heal their sick and wounded, because it was the least he could do to atone for his own sins. But he had long punished himself to the point where he could not remember what it felt like, to feel.
Still, he understood the feeling of being sticky and uncomfortable, so as he climbed the mountain, his mood became clearer and the wind was a welcome distraction from the heat. Nearing the top, his sweat stained coat shivered in the chill, a welcome change from the summer heat. And he looked around in this place of worship – knowing he was unworthy, knowing more than ever how small and insignificant his own life was as he looked down on the world that they had created, finding Solterra – red and gold against a sea of green life. Everything seemed much more in perspective from here, the least of which how little he mattered in the grand scheme.
Turning from the cliff’s edge, he found his way to the altar of Solis, seeking the one that Eden had spoken of. He would not ask for forgiveness, or even the consideration of this god – but he knew that he needed to pay his respects and show his deference to the deity which led this place where he now lived. It would not due for his cursed life to take another turn toward darkness… and he would do whatever he could to stay in the good graces of the Sun God.
He bowed his head, tipping it to the point where the jagged tip of his horn nearly brushed against the dirt at the statue’s feet, and he closed his eyes to reflect. He didn’t expect for an answer persay, as he’d gone so long in his life without the favor of the gods. But it was duty that kept him here, duty that brought him peace. Sighing to the quiet mountain, he wondered if he was even worthy to stand in this place, praying hopefully to gods he had yet to know. Would they shun him, turn him away… perhaps they would punish such a sinner for standing in their midst.
His mind was a cloud of troubled thoughts, and his lips pursed as if thinking through the consequences. Voltaire had come to this place seeking forgiveness, but if he couldn’t forgive himself, what hope did he have at deserving such things (and from the merciless sun god, of all creatures). Looking around, his ice blue eyes blinked against the ever-watching sun, a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach… for he knew the god of day saw through the flimsy mask he wore, and he knew Solterra would know him as he was.
Posted by: Pan - 09-23-2017, 03:19 AM - Forum: Archives
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Pan climbed the now familiar path – up up and up, until at last he reached the peak of the mountain. He wanted to know the gods, desperately. Up to now, his prayers had gone largely unanswered – a thought which troubled the boy… for in his past, every time he’d been in a place with gods, he’d found a way to know them. Here in this world, it was strange to him to follow gods that he’d never seen or heard from. He wondered how much they cared, how much they interacted with the world they’d created. Did they play with the mortals, setting them on paths to their own destruction and selfish desires? Or did they simply let the cards fall where they may, watching as the story unfolded? All of these were curious thoughts, but more curious to Pan was the god of the Dawn and what he was like.
He imagined that Oriens was a just and wise ruler, for Kasil was… and he was certain the Sovereign of the dawn court took after the god which he served. Maybe the god was simply tired, taking a break from all the creating the world and stuff… or maybe he was watching and letting them learn from their own choices and mistakes. That was probably most likely, especially since the scaled boy had since learned that the Dawn Court valued knowledge and learning above all else. He was probably simply playing the role of a teacher and letting his students learn in their own ways.
Sighing as he kicked a smooth pebble across the dirt and sparse grass on the mountain top, Pan found a quiet corner to call upon his god, ignoring the others sending up their pleas and wishes to whatever gods they prayed too. Knowing now that Oriens was their god, he decided it was best to stick with a single line of worship, for now.
Hey Oriens, its me… Pan. He called out to the god with a casual hopefulness that only a child could bring. I’m back again… maybe this time you have something I can do, for you – for the Dawn Court? I want to do a quest.I want to do a quest. For the boy lived for such things – to adventure with a purpose, to bring glory to the home where he resides. A quest would prove to Kasil and the rest that he could do something useful for the Dawn Court.
His words are met with little more than a whispering wind, and as he closes his eyes, Pan imagines that the caress of the breeze against his scales was the embrace of Oriens. A quiet smile makes its way across his face as he imagines such things, daydreaming in the sunlight as his ears flick this way and that, waiting to hear the deity’s voice. He waits expectantly for a bit, sighing audibly once several moments had passed... for now, it was clear Oriens would not show once more. Dipping his head in quiet disappointment, he nods to the statue of the dawn god, before turning away from the peak and returning back to Delumine.
Vespera, why do your feel so close but so far away at the same time.
Weir placed one hoof in front of the other on rocky ground dusted with the frozen flakes of snow. The ground is hard and unforgiving. The thudding sound of her hooves clattering on the stone was the only sound. Summer is starting to fade and the temperatures are dropping. Weir’s coat is starting to grow out in preparation for winter’s coming. White clouds puffed from her nostrils as she strained on the narrow goat trails to where she may be able to worship to her goddess. The sun setting in the distance lit the sky up in pinks, purples, and blues. Weir stopped for a moment to catch her breath in the thin air and to take in the majesty of the sky from way up here. If she strained she thought she could even see the dusk court. Her white hair whipped in the winds of these heights. She turned to the trail once more. Just as night was settling its cool fingers into every corner and around every stone, Weir arrived at the cave she had seen when she first arrived here. The large mouth led down a corridor where water dripped and pooled on the ground. Strange bugs, spiders, and bats lived in the ceiling and other crevices.
She had soaked some dried leaves in some flammable oil that Weir had found in the swamps. She brought along a rock that she had known to create sparks that she found near the base of the mountain. Using her telekinesis, she sparked and lit the wad of leaves and then pulled a larger pouch from her mane and up it. She laid the flaming leaves in the large pouch of flammable leaves which also ignited. The cave lit up and she could see all the paintings on the walls. They seemed to dance as the light flickered and created shadows. Creation, battles, family, love, and loss were told all around her and at the center a large portrait of a mare. The writing was in a language she could not understand but she believed this to be Vespera. Vespera. I know I should have visited sooner. I am not always good about keeping up with my prayers. I hope you got to see down by the ocean with the stormchildren. I was calling to you. Weir took a bag of healings herbs that she had brought and laid it on the ground in front of the painting on the wall of the goddess.
The light reflected off her metal leaves that swung back and forth and fractured the light around the cave and looked like twinkling stars. She began to hum a tune that her mother had taught her as a child. It was a lullaby but it comforted her. She hummed and sang the lullaby quietly for a time and then it ended and the cave went quiet again. Vespera. I need to guidance. My sovereign has given me the position of Champion of Community. I don’t know what to do. I have never had a leadership before. I think the job should do with balancing of the other champions and of the sovereign to make sure that the decisions being made for the people are the correct ones. I guess like an advocate for the people. I want to do this job well. I wish I could hear your voice. I would like to know what to do. Weir looked down. The trip here had exhausted her and slowly she lowers her body to the floor and in the quiet of this place she hums her song once again.
Posted by: Forseti - 09-21-2017, 10:12 AM - Forum: Archives
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A god had followed her across the sky, wielding thunder and lightning as protest to her continued absence from her home. The atmosphere around her shook like a force as the particles parted to make way for rain; the clouds, heavy, sighed relief and opened their grey bodies. Nothing remained untouched, not even her--one of the earth, a piece of the nature from which the rain was borne. It was a mist across the expanse of her sight, a mutable wall only few willingly crossed. If she was one of them there was no indication of either choice made. It was a storm that waged war with the land, sky and earth, and in the end neither would be victorious. It was a simple system, she knew--they would tire themselves out from futile effort made and slink off, tails tucked, to save the battle for another day. It would end just as it came, without flourish or hesitation. And she would, as always, remain mired in the middle.
The castle walls lined one side of her, the rain an endless dominance to claim everything it touched. Giant gentle wings hung loose against her figure, tips kissing the sodden ground beneath her weight. The fortress loomed, neither glaring nor inviting with invisible eyes, but it was the opposite way she looked; out, out toward the fields of wet fog as she and everything around her was bombarded with a stinging, relentless deluge. She made no motion toward the opening in the stone walls, made no movement at all as she stood a statue with the storm raging around them.
Boredom. Straight boredom. He wanders the plains in the darkness, the dawn not far off. Cloak wrapped around my shoulders, wings exposed to the cooler summer air. The day will grow hot, suffocating, but at the moment it's comfortable and relaxing. And yet he is so bored. No contracts, no bloodthirsty, revengeful aristocrats. The purpose in his life has come down to nothing. Maybe he'll start raping and murdering just to make his life more interesting. Sure he met Only, and that was the first exciting experience he's had in a long time. He met Finnian and lurked among some gathering of Dusk inhabitants. But besides that, there's been nothing.
He grunts and stands still then, looking to the East where the sun will rise. He wonders if his brother across the sea is watching the same son. If he is surviving - thriving or failing? Is that damned tutor in charge or did he relinquish his control? He sighs, his two-toned eyes shadowed. Part of him wants to know what is happening at home. The other part never wants to go back, in mind or body, ever again. The thoughts linger, fading at a snail's pace, and he stands still, only just aware of his surroundings. After all, it does no good to have anyone surprise him in this moment of reverie.
Short and museless, but I think it'll get better. @Only
Posted by: Pan - 09-19-2017, 11:55 AM - Forum: Archives
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The meeting had ended, and now Pan found himself wandering back around the Dawn Court, wondering what came next. Kasil’s instructions were pretty clear… he needed to find a job to do. Though the Sovereign had first mentioned being a warrior, Pan had immediately rejected the idea. That left two things – the Sages and the Caretakers. Pan fancied himself a bit of each, for he was a learner and storyteller, but he also cared deeply and his empathy for others could be a boon to this place. Torn between being one of many sages, or truly useful as a healer (which they didn’t seem to have many of), he’d decided on the latter.
As he wandered, he thought of other healers he’d known. Like him, they seemed to collect bits of plants to turn into healing salves and potions, so he’d taken to the task quite fervently, pulling weeds and strange flowers, and gathering pieces of bark and clods of dirt into his bag. Without direction, these plants were simply a collection of organic crap… and the longer that he carried them around, they more they seemed to stink. On his own, he was no closer to finding the means to being a healer than he’d been before thinking about it… so he decided to seek out the only healer he knew here.
Kaladin had caused something of a stir in the meeting, but Pan wasn’t one to judge. The boy was an optimist to a fault, and wished no ill will to the grouchy stallion. Humming as he traveled through the forest, he began to search for the earth-hued male. Kaladin! His child-voice rang through the trees, scaring away birds and breaking the silence of the morning… but Pan didn’t seem to mind. He pressed onward, through the forest, until at long last he spotted the stallion far in the distance. There you are! Breathlessly, he closed the gap between them in an awkwardly jaunty lope, offering Kaladin a lopsided smile as he approached. Remember me? I’m Pan! Together, the two stood in the silent glade, awkwardness falling between them for only a moment before he rushed to explain. Can you show me what to do with these? Even as he mentioned it, he dumped his bag of broken roots and wilted flowers onto the grass. Are these helpful… for healing, I mean?
That is the thought that rockets around my skull like a pinball machine as my senses start to function again. The floor - hot, dusty, hard beneath me. The air - stifling, unsatisfying. The sounds - silence, except for maybe some distant chatter. I open my eyes and see I'm in some sort of enclosure. A room.. ramshackle, crumbling, but functional enough to hold me.
Prisoner.
I look up through a foggy daze to see a door guarded by others. My brain can't piece all the details together. They seem familiar but I can't find their names in my mind. Dim light streams in from a few small windows. I don't move except to lift my head. The room is empty, Damaris nowhere to be seen. But I think I feel her presence nearby. Another cell? I'm still struggling to comprehend what has happened. All I remember is the initial struggle.. Damaris being chained, and my own vision growing dark as two Solterrans stood over me.
A prisoner of Solterra.
I lay my head back on the uneven ground with a groan. They have Damaris. Some drug is still in my bloodstream, leaving me groggy and achey. Whatever action I might take will have to wait until I feel better, and I can only hope in the meantime that someone will have noticed my absence, and care enough to come after me.
Fuck diplomacy this shit is gonna go down.
I got bored guys and I'm desperate to post Rosti. So here. Please don't leave him in limbo! Rosti thoughts | Rosti speech | Damaris mindspeak
