The water around the island is bizarrely clear. Logically, O knows it is the same water that fills the ocean beating against Novus’ shores — that there is, in fact, no real difference between this beach and all the world’s others. But still there is something strange about it. It is clear all the way to the bottom of the sea, though of course whatever’s down there is distorted by leagues and leagues of water. As O stands up to her knees in the shore and peers way, way down, the miles-far clumps of coral and schools of brightly colored fish pop out at her, as clear as if they were only yards away.
The rest of the island bustles with activity, but she is still, for now content to watch. Her strange eyes are happily fixed on the contents of the ocean. Behind her on the sand, hordes of strangers whisper, scream and laugh; seabirds crusted with salt and song go swooping through the air; the air bursts with noise and movement. And still O remains in place. Her short, dark hair is ruffled by the wind, and jungle mud specks her coat. She obviously has not been home in a few days. But she is content, and that is obvious too — her eyes are bright and watchful, her stance is strong, and a little smile tugs ever so slightly at her sooty lips.
She does not make much of an imposing figure. The island is much more dangerous than she will ever be, brimming with poisonous fruits and predators that look like friends. And most of the strangers flooding over the bridge are bigger, older and stronger than her, too; more than one of them is likely to wield dangerous magic. Against any of these, O would find herself at a disadvantage. And yet — magic hot in her blood, hurlbat heavy at her side — she feels stronger than anyone else.
The sun makes a head-splitting pattern of white on top of the ocean as the waves come crashing in, and O squints, trying and failing to keep the glare from her eyes. Even the briefest moment of distraction, she knows, could be the birth of a million problems.
Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
It was a call of constant lure, a siren beckoning, a lighthouse leading her home. But it wasn't home, it was an odd island of mystery and chaos. Nothing about it would make the young aqua-equine think of the polar caps of home, the frozen salt-water and the barren icesheets. Nor was it anything like the stories of the planet her species had once supposedly called home. There was no sense of familiarity, and yet she continued to return, time and time again. She couldn't stay away, she couldn't hold back, she could keep a distance. She returned. She returned with out fear, with determination, with haste. And each time she stepped back on the sand, she was filled with the knowledge that there were secrets buried to the core to the island, that it's secrets ran deeper than any roots the trees could place, higher than any of the odd birds could fly, all around them . . . the island itself seemed to just be a big and beautiful casing for the secret of all secrets.
Wasn't that what the others felt the relic tucked with in the forest, hidden on the island, was? Nothing but a secret, a prize; to be found? Unburied from the island that held it claim. There was still much of that particular issue (and the pantheon it was attached to) that had Bel confused, far too new to the island for the kind of knowledge necessary to make sense of it all. Her gaze traveled over the abundance of creatures that had already flocked to the island, and once again she was reminded why she preferred to travel by night, when the crowd thinned out and she could survey the island with out worry, her glow lighting her footsteps like daylight.
As she glanced around her eyes focused on a form staring out at the sea, and curiosity slowly started to build up. She pauses for just a moment before approaching the stranger curiously, watching her survey the water that never failed to look inviting for the maritime horse. Moving with far more grace and poise than typically seen by land side, the treader made her way across the sand - once again grateful for the familiar footing the island shore provided. She moved slowly, allowing her reflecting to be seen in the water so as to not startle the other, even if the reflection looked a touch odd. Between the curved silver of her horns, the long dorsal fin down her back, and the dual set of eyes, it was easy to notice the fluke tail second and the vapors trailing off of her spine, and back of her limbs last if at all.
Her gaze has moved from the other and onto the water, her voice soft, "It seems so odd, so different, although it's just the same as the rest of the sea . . . but I can't shake the feeling of wrongness I get from it." She stated conversationally, even as she moved so her front limbs where in the sea she spoke of, her body visibly seeming to relax as the water touched it and swirled around her lower limbs, just high enough to wet the fine fur above her hooves. "I keep pondering on if there's anything that would make swimming in it unsafe but have yet to brave diving deep into it. I'm built for speed in water, not so much attacking power." She humored, before finally turning to the young mare at her side, a kind smile on her alien face, her two sets of eyes glinting playfully and kindly, "My name is Below Zero, but call me Bel." She added in introduction.
When O sees the reflection in the water, she thinks, at first, that she is dreaming.
Or hallucinating. She’s been careful not to eat or drink anything from the island, too afraid of its repercussions, but perhaps even breathing in its air is enough to drive someone insane. She freezes as she catches sight of what ripples over the tiny waves near her feet. A face, white and blue with dual sets of eyes — the water ripples — and suddenly a pair of curved silver horns follows, and a body striped and sleek with fins, and O tenses her shoulders as if preparing to turn or run. Her heart bangs louder and louder in her chest. She feels it clenching and twisting until it rises up in her throat and she can feel her blood thrumming just under her skin, thinks I should go, I should run, but freezes.
The world goes quiet. Overhead the wind stirs salt from the top of the ocean, and cold foam flecks Apolonia’s cheeks. She blinks hard, trying to clear her fuzzy vision and the terrible nagging of her brain that begs to leave.
The stranger moves forward, and O tries hard not to flinch. But then she speaks. And against all odds, her voice is gentle, sweet, even, and as O turns meekly to look at her with huge, doleful eyes, she realizes that although the reflection was mostly accurate, there is nothing scary about it. No, despite the stranger’s, well — strangeness — the lines of her face are kind and soft. Finally, the girl relaxes, blowing out a long-held breath in a whoosh of sound. Her heart slowly stops racing. She even offers the other mare a small, faint smile on sooty lips.
“It does seem strange,” she offers finally, sifting a tiny hoof through the greenish water. They stand evenly, but O is so much smaller that the water reaches almost up to her knees; she can practically swim in a shore that only touches the tops of the stranger’s ankles. “I’m O. N..nice to meet you.” She’s not used to being kind, and even the attempt at it makes the words catch in her mouth, somehow both sticky and dry. She attempts to clear her throat. “You’re not from here, are you?”
Something like awkwardness floods her; maybe even a blush comes into her dark cheeks, but it’s hard to tell. (Still she is careful to tuck her head a little closer to her chest.
Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
It is not often Bel sees fear at her appearance, but just as her own vision was reflected in the water, so was that of this young mare's. Her eyes seemed wide, breathing rushed, and her focus entirely on the reflected white and blue of Below Zero. A part of the mare humors if it's her odd appearance, or her purely aquatic look in nature, remembering Asterion's own hesitation and questioning of her species. Silly Kelpies giving a bad name to anyone who emerges from the waters. But Treaders were different, very different. If the stories were to be believed (and the more Below Zero heard the origins of this place and many of it's citizens, the more she was inclined to take note of those stories) her species hailed from the stars, from a planet they could no longer reach, racked with disease . . . and death.
Perhaps she did look more alien than many others, or perhaps it was more of a basis of the stories of other scary creatures of the sea, but either way, Bel hoped to settle this young one's heart before it might explode, and so she spoke. The younger female turned to fully look at Bel now, her expression meek, and Bel meets the look with a kind smile, gentle as the other seems to relax and blowing out a whoosh of breath, and a returned, faint smile is given. Much better. Bel takes no pleasure at the distressing of others, and it's a relief to see this one relaxing as well. Bel took no joy in terrifying others, or startling them. Even jokes and pranks could be a touch taboo in her culture where one most always be fairly on guard for trouble to strike. The youth of her pod might have a bit more leeway with how playful they could be - but even then you were always looking out for each other, and always aware of the danger you might suddenly have to swim from.
In a way, despite the oddness and nervousness the island was producing in it's sudden appearance, she was grateful for the much calmer life to be lived on Novus. No more sudden bolting as the pod swam in different directions to avoid an approaching predator. No more sleeping with one eye open and getting only half the rest you should. No more watching family members and friends abandonment for a bleeding wound, knowing they will succumb to the elements alone with out the Pod there to help protect and keep warm. In a way, she'd often wondered if her Pod was just as cruel as the creatures they ran from, abandoning members when they became a hazard to the Pod, knowing that with out the Pod's assistance it was a death sentence. Yes, being on Novus, and part of this world was so much better.
The young gal does speak then, drawing Bel's attention back to the current place and time, watching as the tiny hoof sifted through the water. Bel herself lowered her muzzle, touch the water and feeling the salt fleck against her skin, as an inner plea of her being begged for her to jump in and see what this part of the sea might have to hold. But she stays still, not trusting the waters beyond what she could see. Such clarity wasn't heard of, and it still struck her as different, odd. It would be treated with caution. The other introduces themselves and she glances back at the now introduced O, her smile warm once more, "It's lovely to meet you, O." When the younger spoke again, Bel had to laugh, her smile filled with delightful amusement, "Not that hard to tell is it . . . no, I'm from a far colder place than Novus." As she said it, the vapors of water trailing along her skin turned colder, much colder at the mention; and had it not been for the special fur and blubber protecting the mare's delicate system, the touch of such cold might have been frosted and blue-ed her hide. As it was the cold was only temporary, quickly returning to a normal state least the cold touch the female beside her. But the brief moment of cool had been a comfort to the mare, who continued to speak, "Although, if the stories from my people's elders are to believe, we hail from an even further distance." Her gaze trailed up to the sky as she said it, and not for the first time in the recent weeks her mind returned to those stories, this time with the curiousness of what that planet, should the stories ever prove to be true; must look like.
She glanced back at O then, her expression curious, "So, why are you staring so intently at the waters rather than exploring the island like much of the others?" She asked, her tone non-judging, simply wishing to know.
The sound of the stranger’s voice is oddly comforting, soft and easy as the sound of the waves washing up against the bright sand. O’s natural inclination is to be wary of strangers; maybe it’s her young age, the way she was raised, the sound of her father’s voice in the back of her head saying be careful. But the fear isn’t within her now. No, the face that looks back at her — strange and foreign though it is — is perfectly calm and unwaveringly kind, even from a cloud of cold white vapor that swirls over her skin. O watches intently as the mare dips her head toward the clear water, reverent as if in a prayer, but just like her, she doesn’t move any farther in, too cautious to chance it.
The water looks normal, if a little too clear. A few yards ahead, sprigs of brightly colored, flowering coral pour upward from the sand; schools of silvery fish go slipping by, weaving, twisting and turning in the easy ocean. The air is clean with the smell of salt and moving wind, ruffling O’s short, dark hair into a frenzy. She blinks rapidly to clear sand from her eyes and squints into the breeze, then turns her head sideways against it, facing Bel more fully. Though the island may be dangerous, it is beautiful, and this stretch of beach is far calmer than whatever waits in the dark, chittering jungle that towers behind them.
I’m from a far colder place than Novus. O starts to nod, as if it makes sense, but stops abruptly with wide eyes as she watches steam curl off the mare’s skin. O leans toward it, and the vapor that brushes her face is icy, snowy cold, though only for a brief moment before it is swallowed by the island’s humid heat and fades away. “What is that? How far?” Her tone is light and filled with wonder, a curiosity much more childlike than any other part of her. She’s seen magic, more than once — used it, too — but this is not it, or at least she doesn’t think so. No, this is something different, something she has yet to learn about. Like the rest of the island.
“Well—“ the girl starts to speak, then pauses abruptly, as if trying to search for the right reason. Her gaze turns back toward the jungle, burnt green and teeming with life. She watches crowds of people pass by the shore. Songs of cats and birds ring out over the island, and O’s ears twitch as she takes it in. “It’s peaceful,” she says finally, and looks back at Bel with a smile almost too solemn for a girl her age. “More peaceful than at home.”
If O told her more — a deeper truth, the story of why home is riotous - it probably wouldn’t be so bad. Bel is kind, as far as she can tell, and might even have some advice for her. But some part of Apolonia is still ashamed that all of the things her family has done (never even mind the things that have been done to them), and so she leaves it at that, and waits for an answer to where the mare is from.
Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
Bel wasn’t always the sort for simple and calm interaction, but meeting with this younger mare, and the energy of their meeting be so relaxed was like a breath of fresh air to the creature. Sure the young soul had shown concern and even fear at her first initial approach (but who wouldn’t when first catching sight of the odd mare caught between two worlds), but seemed to be warming up to the aqua-equine soon enough – something that was of great relief to Bel. She didn’t like setting anyone at ill-ease, and was relieved that the fellow was quickly growing more comfortable with her company. Bel was not so aware of how her own calmer nature may be playing a part in it, even the others’ more aquatic personification of her attributes might surprise the mare, who never though she spoke with the easiness of the gentle swell of waves against a beach. In truth she never thought about how odd any of her more aqua-inclined habits or reflections may be . . . to she, she was merely herself.
Bel attention had momentarily turned away from O however as she looked to the water, head dipped low, even if she denied her hearts’ desire to plunge into the depths, to swim among the crystal waters and dance between the coral stalks. To weave among the fish and school with the largest, the brightest. Her heart sung to the water, and it called back to her like a siren song luring the maiden of the sea home . . . but this water was not home, and Bel doubted in its’ ability to release her should she given in . . . for even the Treaders know that only death welcomed you at the end of the siren’s melody. Instead, she denied her desires, she followed her instinct, her attention returned to O. The cool air, fresh and smelling of salt rushed past the two, though where it ruffled the other’s short dark hair, Bel herself is unaffected beyond the spiraling trails of steam being carried away from her body – she had no mane or tail to tug on.
O turned more fully to her then, her head turning sideways against the breeze as if to protect herself. Instantly Bel had moved, her steps light and graceful as her limbs carried her through the water, her body shifting to help block the sand and wind from the younger mare, even as her fluked fin flicked and danced in the water, catching the water in her tail and spraying it up and against the aquatic mare, wetting her hide far more effectively than her vapors ever did. She spoke though, telling of her cold home, and smiling when O watches the steam from her back, leaning towards it to get a face of icy vapor, “Careful.” The warning was spoken softly, warmly, not wanting to see the younger suffer, “The vapors tend to be connected to my emotions or subconscious thoughts . . . and far more importantly you’re not protected as I am from the cold.” Her muzzle touches her shoulder, feeling the slight give, the odd texture that was too smooth for muscle – the thick blubber that kept her insides from being frozen through, even at the greatest depths. Still, she allows the other to feel that cold before it is replaced, as if allowing her to touch the cold lands she’d grown up in. “It took me a very long time to swim here, but where I come from, it’s water and ice as far as they eye can see, so very cold,” She paused, for effect, before adding with a lightness in her eyes, “But on some nights, the sky lights up with ribbons of vibrant colors – like a reef was painted across the sky! Pinks, and greens and blues and yellows; decorating the star studded heavens. Can take your breath away faster than a sudden dive!”
Her voice lowered as if sharing a secret, “But the elders of my pod say we come from even further away – from among the stares on a planet so far away we had to be transported to earth through a special doorway. I don’t know if I believe the stories, I think I look more fishy than alien . . . but it would explain the four eyes, don’t you think?” She asked with a playful wink. Truthfully, the more time she spent in Novus and learned the stories of others, the more she was starting to believe it might just be possible. When they speak of the island though, Bel’s smile is almost bittersweet as she looks out towards the jungle before turning back towards the waters, her gaze on the picturesque escape, “Yes, it does appear peaceful . . . “ She doesn’t admit that she feels the hum of the secrets it carries, for she thinks that perhaps O needs the peacefulness if her mention of home means anything.
Instead, Bel moves to lay down in the water, limbs folding under her as her tail swishes in smooth movements against the water, creating little waves to surge into the shore, “I can definitely live with a little bit of peaceful at the moment.” Her moment in the water isn’t a long one, just enough to wet her sides and back before she pushes herself to her feet in a smooth and graceful move that spoke of years of living in just the water itself. Her gaze turns back to O and then the forest, “Would you like to walk with me? The birds are singing beautifully, and with so many others around, I doubt the cats want to attempt to hunt. I’d be happy to tell you more stories as well, of the arctic, or of the skies. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to tell stories.” And it sure was a good way to pass time.
As O watches Bel look toward the water, she feels a pang in her chest—something like jealousy, or even concern. She has never seen (or felt) anything like that. Sure, she loves Solterra—she was carved from it, the sand and the sun and the soot—but she has never felt tied to the dunes like Bel seems to be tied to the water, never felt homesick on any of her trips outside the border. To see someone love a place so much makes her wonder if she’s missing out, as much as feel pity that anyone should be so tied down.
Far more importantly, you’re not as protected as I am from the cold. Fair enough. Even the slight burst of cold from the vapor that O passes her muzzle through makes her flinch in surprise. She can see from here that the texture of Bel’s skin and flesh is different from hers; as the older mare tells the story of her homeland, O’s initial suspicion at its truthfulness fades away, replaced by a genuine interest and below that, awe. She has not lived quite long enough to hear stories like these, and for all the strangers she’s met, all of them have come from Novus or a land more like it than not. No…aliens.
But it doesn’t bother her. O has always been too curious for her own good, and she’s not threatened as much as she is in awe. Her head tilts upward as Bel describes the phenomenon of lights, and though the real sky is perfectly clear and blue, in O’s head she can see them: ribbons of translucent pink and purple, bruisey patches of yellow, swirling and mixing, and beyond that the gentle flickering of stars, a reminder that in some places the world is still sane. “Wow,” she breathes, and blinks, and it’s all gone. Disappointment settles in her chest like a rock.
Would you like to walk with me?
She is surprised at the invitation. Most adults don’t like carting her around—though O has been independent since the day she was born, her obvious youthfulness has kept her pushed away from certain places and people. Not anymore. She grins: “Absolutely. And tell me all the stories you have.” She waits until Bel scrambles out of the water and back to her feet, and then with an excited wag of her tail, like a dog, takes off down the sand.
Perhaps it is a blessing that they lingered so long at the sea that felt so wrong.
Out past the shore, were the trees start jutting from the pearl white sand like gravestones, there are several pairs of eyes glowing in the dark. Each set is caught on the mares standing in the muddy sand where sea meets island. Each set is glowing brighter than the sun.
There is a glare of white in the blackness, and it blinks in and out to the sound of the surf.
A bit of darkness is alive with two twin flames that flicker and dance like blood-red stars.
And then there is a pair of blue cat-eyes, larger than than the others, that never flickers and never blinks out. Those eyes move closer, and closer, and closer, through the black thicket. They move out of the blackness across the shore, and they are just that....two eyes blazing blue, moving across the sun warmed sand.
When Apolonia turns to run like a doe, the eyes blink and a mouth full of fangs appears below it. The mouth opens wide and the sun catches on the tip of each sharp tooth like it's glass cutting through the empty air. It opens wider, and wider, and wider until there are no eyes left floating formlessly along the sand-- only teeth.
No sound comes about, but their chests might feel like they are throbbing with the low echo of a roar.
A second goes by. It might feel like forever.
And then the mouth and all the eyes waiting in the darkness are gone.
Maybe they were only an illusion of a young girl looking for adventure. But what if they weren't?
@Below Zero and @Apolonia are lucky that that lingered so long by the sea. Otherwise they might have found themselves in the middle of the eyes watching them in the shadows of the treeline. But just as they turn to go, the largest formless eyes decides to come closer-- and it has a fangs.
They been awarded +100 signos for encountering a Random Event! How you reply is up to you; feel free to NPC any of the super creepy eyes.
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Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
The time had been passing peacefully between the two mares, one happily telling the stories of her heritage to the younger. But this story teller hadn't been aware of what was watching from the shades of the island. It was true she felt the island was as dangerous as any dagger filled mouth of the deeps, all serrated edges and eager to take large, large bites. But unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - Bel had allowed herself to get distracted by the conversation and company . . . she never saw the first pair of eyes watching from the leafy distance. She didn't see the second one join in, or even the next couple of dozen that seemed to wait and watch, and watch some more.
As the duo turned to walk, however, it appeared that the biggest, and most dangerous set of eyes started across the sand. Bel barely noticed them, but upon doing so the female froze, her body going suddenly still as she stared fully onto the eyes approaching them. Just eyes. Nothing else. No body, no legs, no head, no mou- Her eyes widened even more as a mouth did tear into view, one filled with fangs. The instinct with in the aquatic mare was almost instantaneous, as she reared up suddenly, her tail splaying out instantly in an act of balance and a sound that was only a quarter whinney, and three quarters dolphin-esque cries; tore from her muzzle. Both sets of her eyes had slitted, looking more reptilian, as she stroke at the air between she (and her companion), and the fanged eyes approaching. She landed with a solid clap again, shifting her body instinctively between the younger mare she was keeping company with and the unknown fanged features, her head arched with those protective ram horns angled perfectly between them and the eyes, and her voice left her in a higher quality, more sea-like as her gills flared with an unspoken desire to dive into the depths that surely most be safer than this island, "I believe this is a sign for us to take our story-telling to the main land." The tones were definitely high, and a few of the vowels had an almost cree-ing sound of them that matched the dolphin-like speech patterns of before. As the eyes seemed to disappear for now (shortly followed by the fangs), Bel was already moving, glancing to her companion in hopes O would agree that the island wasn't safe for the time being. Bel was already planning to take to the waters after this, a few hours beneath the calming waves was just what she needed.
Thoughts Speech
@Apolonia -- Notes:// I'm gonna go ahead and count this as Bel's last response, if you wanna follow up if you choose so, we can otherwise officially call this thread done :D
i feel no cold, i feel no fear inside my mind Now I'm full of energy
![[Image: i-jTNwWx8.png]](https://photos.smugmug.com/BelowZeroNovus/n-X9d9fZ/i-jTNwWx8/1/e09fb6c3/O/i-jTNwWx8.png)
