When a brontide rumbled upon the mountains and warm raindrops kissed his cheek, that was wen the weary patriarch began to stir. How and when he had arrived in the Viride Forests of Novus was a total mystery, one that was just as unexplainable as how he had entered and left the Rift. It seemed, though, that finding loopholes in their universe was incredibly taxing on his body - or so he had observed since falling through time and space twice now; first from Helovia to the Rift, and now from the rift to Novus.
The first thing the stallion felt was lonely. Truly, deeply, and inexplicably isolated. Soon he began to associate this feeling to the absence of Peatree who's bond seemed to have vanished entirely, a bond forged by nothing but the most beautiful magic. The little bat was gone.
Lifting his head from the dense forest floor was a great effort, especially when ideas of Peatrees demise had begun to hook into his mind. Was the little fellow dead? Or worse, was he lost forever? The poor creature had never lived a day without hanging from Tilney's antlers or nesting in his mane.
It was as the flaxen physician sat up against the trunk of a towering oak, blinking in the sight of a rainy golden hour that he observed a strange message scrawled in the dirt not far from where he lay. A stick had been used to carve words out of a muddy patch in the forest floor, and all in the language of Tilney's homeland - one he'd taught to Peatree. "I go" it read "Look I for Arah, Jude, Byron" "Returnsing one day soon"
A sigh of relief passed roughly through Tilney's nares as he viewed his bonded's message, both overjoyed that the little creature was still among the living but also saddened to read that he had gone alone. A few more weeks or months and Tilney was certain he would find Maude - then they could return to Helovia and search the debris for any sign of their other loved ones, though truthfully, Tilney had all but given up hope. Helovia was in ashes; not a soul had survived.
It took minutes, perhaps even part of an hour for the exhausted and malnourished stag to ascend to all four hooves. His next priority as finding water, shelter, and food that was edible.
Always on the move, Valerian set his eyes on the spiny teeth of mountains inhabiting Novus. Something to get lost in, to delve in fully – mentally, spiritually, physically as each precipice defied the heavens. He would never admit truthfully to his nomadic tendencies, that it was his wings that ached to keep him moving rather than his limbs. That it was truly an ingrained sense of wanderlust, that existed fervently in each person. To be without this sense, this desire – meant like something of a death to Valerian. Who, hardly satisfied with a sedentary life style, could not envision a life confined to one familiar space. Unbroken, untested and ultimately chained to the rudimentary.
It was with a heavy, beating heart that he dove further into the winding paths. The trails became necessary to travel by, when the weather did not cooperate. Which it hardly did between mountains – how Valerian knew, and respected the giants that rested within Novus’ heart. The wind could not escape their twisting knife-edges, nor the rhythm of trapped and lost humidity. “Aye, but what a prickly heart you have,” he mumbled with a huff. “Calloused and… rough, unforgiving… son of a –,” he held his tongue between his teeth. Shivering, when a light breeze ruffled past his wet, sweaty sides. Superstitions set aside, Valerian did not want to evoke the fates upon him.
In the distance a fleet of plumed clouds sailed against him. Tall, bodacious, churning as the air filled with the scent of dust and nearly prickled against his skin. Charging the air with forewarning to those who traversed throughout the mountain’s sides. The high sun dull as the clouds moved closer.
While a jolt of trepidation furrowed his brow, a likewise smile crawled defiantly along his lips. Taking the challenge, he picked up his pace and unfurled his wings to test the airs around him. Time was on the horizon, slipping away as the encroaching storm buckled forward. Though the winds were hardly cooperative the further he pulled up. Each swoon and push became more unpredictable than the next. His eye sought a means for shelter along the road. And just as he was about to give up, Valerian spotted a ledge carved out from one of the sides. Housed by a small patch of conifers, gnarled and beaten, Valerian made his unsteady descent against its edges. The path remained at his left side, as he made purchase of the ground with his hooves. Nearly loosing his footing he stumbled forward. His wings beating to compensate for the loss of traction.
Valerian cursed underneath his breath. He crooked his head back to the left, eyeing the fringes of the rock ledge that crumbled beneath his hind hooves.
While the air whistled about him, growing stronger and steadier with time.
There were a million stars reflected on the glassy surface of the lake before her. The illusion was incomparable. It was as if the dark mare had been thrust up into the galaxy and was floating amongst the stars, despite standing perfectly still at the edge of the lake watching in dark silence. From where she stood she could barely hear the lapping of the water at the shore of the lake. The stillness of the air kept the trees and the grasses around her from rustling or making a sound. With all the critters around her sleeping now that the moon was full and high in the sky, Lyra had truly been plunged into a dead silent night.
She watches the reflections of the stars on the surface of the water, not bothering to trace her gaze towards where her reflection stood. The woman was too dark to be seen, save for the pale silver eyes staring out from the dark canvas.
One would think that she was reflecting upon her past, or muddling through intricate thoughts, when instead, with a casual backwards flick of a ear, she was straining to hear a hint of any sound amongst the silence. There was no way that she was alone in such a vast land, as she had seen the others milling about during the day- perhaps there were few creatures that wandered during the night like herself. She had long ago learnt to embrace the cover of shadows, knowing that the darkness was the one thing (aside from her shyness) that embraced her without prejudice.
As she strained to listen for anything at all, there was a small snap and a gentle rustling, yet the wind did not pick up.
And it only hurts when I'm breathing
My heart only breaks when it's beating
Noxia had felt the heat of the summer sun as it pounded against her flesh. Aye, it wasn't that horrible, as she has been moving from spot to spot until the sun had started to fall. Yet, now, she was staring blankly at the sky. Stars were littering the navy sky in a gorgeous random pattern that had her awestruck. Yes, it was so much better than what she had been trying to think of lately. Here she could just allow her mind to wander - perhaps even sometimes begin the mess of counting each of the stars in order to force her thoughts off of what she was currently dealing with.
She would start her new home here. Yes, she would. She had promised herself that she would start over here - learn to love this Goddess of the Night. She had never been one for religion, but it seemed to be her best bet at the moment. Gently, she lowered her frame into a dip between a few hills and hid most of her frame in the tall grass. Her light frame just barely noticeable against the dark ground as her mane and tail curled up around her bodice. Baby blue orbs peer at the sky, and you can hear her mumbling out numbers into the night air.
Aye, she would start over. She would build her new home here. She would gain a new life, she would be able to do this. She knew that she would able to do this. Why? Simply because she had to do this. She had no other choice now that she was in these lands...
anyone welcome ^-^ trying to get back into this rp thing DX
He can’t remember the last time he stopped. The last time he attempted to dig roots, and tap into that inter connected shit with the people around him. It was easier to observe, to try and figure out what made the mortar and bearings of their communities stick. Perhaps Valerian just didn’t try enough. Wasn’t strong enough to dismay the thought of coming off too shallow, or putting up a mask to hide who he had really become. It felt wrong, but oh so natural and safe, and easily broke and forgotten.
These were different times, he’d tell himself. Repeating it over and over, until he thought he believed those thoughts just enough. Imparting the same sense of wild hope he entrusted upon those blackened wings that carried him. With each stroke of feather gliding him towards this supposed new home, he willed it, filled the trepidation and nervous flare of excitement and unease with life.
“Home?” His wayward tones cast aloud as he crooked his head towards the earth. Preferring to keep high to survey the lands. A broken right eye was rather useless however; and required frequent checking from the other. Surveying side to side, up and down and all around – too far in land to back down now.
Today of all days he’d been blessed with a clear sky and amiable winds. It was just past the afternoon as he came upon the rolling meadows, inhabited largely by foreign individuals beneath him. “This would be the start now, wouldn’t it?” Giddiness sparked within the stallion. A rare, unusual wave of optimism blushed out from his chest and into his soul. And without a second thought he touched down with a gallant smile and sparkling eyes. Drawing now and then, to the pretty, fancy parcels carried around by some folk. Inevitably he felt the lurch to pick at it, and carried on to view the rest.
It may have been the energy of the people around him, which allowed the stallion to sway his travelling aches away. Or the ample, fresh grass that brought vigor and energy back into his limbs. Naturally he boasted this newfound spark, with the twitch of his lips and the drumming of his voice that carried him ahead.
“Aye!
The sun she burned with envy,
When I set my eyes away.
Beat my body with her devil heat,
Oh! How her rays left nothing to escape!
Oh, one eye – one eye to lead me crawling,
Ho!
One eye – one eye that led me running.”
He was unabashed, and winked to whoever cast him a glance. Sauntering with a voice that matched the harmony in his steps. And the smile that curled with unbridled, foolish abandon.
Was it enough to lure a likewise fool to greet him? With a less energetic voice, he stopped and settled in one place, humming in a somber, wistful mood, the texture of cooling charcoal and whisky.
“La de lay
Oh lady bright.
That fueled your hatred in the night.
How fair, how lonely it was,
- to exist without receiving.
The light you gave so willing.
When love was your beacon, burning bright,
No more, when I turned my sight.
One eye – one eye to lead me blind.
One eye – one eye to keep me bleeding.”
A soft smile settled against his lips. Feeling as a child might in the wake of some great history to be unfolded, right before his very eyes. Searching for something – something grand, and breathtaking.
credits :: blueshoodesigns
ooc: open to any and all! :3
put your money on me, if you think i'm losing you ◄►
you must be crazy
In the inky darkness of the night he watched, eyeing the rolling waves as they poured onto the sand one by one, over and over. He had left Denocte for a brief venture into the night - a brief venture that had turned... longer than expected. He had underestimated the draw of a starless sky, the wrap of shadows around his mahogany skin turning him into a cloaked stranger in the night, unseen and unknown. Now overlooking the ocean on the cliffside, the Night King felt the shackles of his carefree responsibilities loosening and falling to the sand, the wind running affectionate fingers through his ebony curls.
The Terminus played a melodic background to his vigil and the moon, hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, shone dully across their mountainous surface. He felt utterly wild, a raging sea of untameable passions roiling underneath his still skin, silver eyes darting over the ocean as if they couldn't settle on a single wave. He thought of Florentine. He thought of Aislinn. He even thought of Sparrow, her silver hair vanishing into Denocte's bustling heart. They moved him, animated him enough to launch into a gallop, throwing himself toward the waters edge like a shadowy spear through the night. His coins sang an erratic tune, bouncing off of his muscular shoulders and tangling in his hair, the one piece of evidence that his mother had loved him, if even just a little.
He crashed into the waves, instantly slick and soaked up to his chest. The sharp bite of seawater forced a grin from his black lips - it was something a little desperate, a little off-kilter. The Night King was close to being dangerous when the light was so absent, writhing in whatever hot mess he had underneath his bones. A sigh was drawn from his lips, agitated, vital and bursting with energy as the movement of the water stroked the lines of his muscular body.
Tonight would be an alluring and unstable evening to stand beside the King of Thieves.
The sovereign stood in silence, or rather, complete confusion as the coal-coloured lioness cursed her way across the grassland. At this angle nothing but the sway of her hips and cropped tail remained visible to Maxence, though still a smirk had found it's way to his face - were she to turn and meet her eyes with his it would be a completely different story. Avdotya had a horrifying effect on him, the kind that made him wonder if he had any kind of effect on her. "Avdotya, come on!" the king boomed after her when she began to curse her own wound or not clotting in a timely manner. "Slow yourself, give yourself time to recover" He knew he certainly needed a few more minutes, and still his breaths were escaping in heavy pants. With a groan he took a great, heavy step forward and lurched along in her footsteps, seeking to catch up to her slinking dark frame.
At first he said nothing and instead resorted to inspecting her countenance for any hints of stopping, snapping, or even a smirk. That's what he would expect of Vesper - a child - though. Still the sovereign remained silent as he trailed along near-to her side, perhaps seeking to annoy her more than accompany her, but truthfully perhaps in the bottom of his heart it was only out of concern that he did wish to remain close to her at all.
tags; @avdotya get im gurl
by blair of shine, translated to html by meverrnind
It wasn’t often the circumstance of his birth weighed on him, but for once he found himself pouting. His wings remain tucked at his side and his eyes shut tightly with both ears pinned against his skull, banjo resting at his side. For once there is no appeal in his pitiful dirges as he broods, spending his thoughts lost in angst of what could have been and what will never be.
“Listen..” Iliad says lifting his head and staring up towards the sky, as if the four wind mothers might hear him even in this foreign land. “I really don’t appreciate that because I’ve got a dick I’m not good enough for ya guys. Where are the wind dads? What is supposed to happen to boys like me!?” He shakes out his hair and then stares back down at the ground, for once he’s relieved Nicodemus isn’t here with him to see the typically cheerful smile lost from his face.
mathèo
I've been running through life and cruising toward death
If you think that I'm scared you've got me wrong
If you don't know my name, you'll know it now
I belong bodily to the earth
I'm just wearing old bones from those that came first
Battle Type: Battle. Prize: XP plus bragging rights.
Character #1:Aislinn Bonded: - Magic: - Armor: - Weapons: -
Character #2:Ulric Bonded: - Magic: - Armor: - Weapons: -
A I S L I N N
do not go gentle into that good night.
rage, rage against the dying of the light.
It was no secret that the stormsinger despised the fever of summer months; finding solace in the darkness of cooler nights and the downpour of raging storms. But not in sunshine — never in the relentless heat, under the thumb of blinding light and desert-dry throats. A self-proclaimed night-owl, a lover of the stars and Calligo's alluring shadows, she had vanished from the castle with her blood singing for war. Her emotions had roiled and tumbled into an ugly mess that had her on a constant heaven-high and trench-low; until now, as she inhaled and began to carefully hone every feeling of anger, heartache, and savagery. With each strong pump of her wings cutting through the blissfully cool air, Aislinn wove her emotions into an armor in itself. She would not falter, nor break. But rise; bloodied and bruised, but strong.
The sun had sunk completely beneath the horizon, falling into a stupor of sleep as the gods stepped aside for the Goddess of Night. Her shadows of indigo and ebony reaching as far she could see. Drifting, she found her target — a large expanse of dirt and sand that had no doubt tasted the blood of other soldiers, as well as her own. Down, down, down, the winged fae spirals, landing in a rush of feathers and sweat. Hot air pants through her nostrils, her lungs burning sweetly, as she slowly stands to straighten herself. Her gaze adjusts and takes in the wide expanse of the plateau; shaking her braided mane impatiently. Tediously, she had plaited it; a true vision of the warrior-gypsy her mother had trained her to be. The deep red paint dripping down her face and around her orbs of blue. Aislinn was a sight to behold.. and ready to take on any who dared face her.
At last; the day to sow a nation's worth of food had arrived, and while the commander would be more than pleased to finally not be getting by with old roots and rations, he was certainly not looking forward to the toil that the day would bring. Perhaps, though, the worst was over. Thanks to Inkheart's help he had managed to get enough soil transported, and with the back breaking boulder moving out of the way perhaps there ere others who wouldn't mind stopping to help work for a spell.
"Caretakers! Sages! Commoners!" The king had begun to boom from his place among the barren ground just inside the north wall of the fort. With a glance to the pile of river mud he'd transported days before, a gruff sigh falling from his lips, Maxence decided he best get to work while he waited for the others to arrive. "There's work to do!" he finally called, hoping at least a few would heed his summons. There was no way he could do all of this by himself.
The king began by taking pales of water from the spring under ground and heaving them up to stand beside the old (and very dry) well. Stretchin his neck upwards until the joints gave a satisfying crack, Maxence was sure that he was not cut out for this much physical labor in one week.
GREETINGS, here's our garden planting thread for the less boulder-moving inclined. Still lots of hard work to do so i am expecting lots of good grumping. 1 week between rounds!
Again, not compulsory, but it ould be gret to see u here!
@Velorca @Oz @Voltaire @Bexley @Eithne @Rhoswen @Raum
by blair of shine, translated to html by meverrnind
