Novus
an equine & cervidae rpg
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Novus closed 10/31/2022, after The Gentle Exodus

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Played by Offline Cannon [PM] Posts: 134 — Threads: 26
Signos: 80
Inactive Character
#1






Andras Demyan

"All you want to do is dance out of your skin into another song not quite about heroes, but still a song where you can lift your spear and say 'yes' as it flashes."
There is lightning in him--or something more than lightning, something more than thunder, something altogether different. Bigger. And he doesn't know what to do.

There is lightning in him and it is telling him to go, to fly, so he goes. Out the library doors, up, and up, and up through Viride's thick canopy and into the heavy cloud cover where he cannot see, cannot feel anything but the air rolling off his wings like thunder and the jagged blue light racing down his neck, his back, his legs, chased by an electric crackle. Oriens had wanted it to be better. Oriens had said, this will end your long-suffering rage, for better or worse. Andras had laughed.

Surely no magic dumping lightning down his back could dam the river of his racing heart. Surely his anger is too large for even his god to hold. Surely, surely. What is he without his anger? A time bomb. (What is he, with it? A Martyr? There are so many new questions when before his heart had either snarled no or screamed yes as simply as someone might choose an outfit, or a meal, or a seat.)

There is much to do in Delumine for a Warden these days. He should be holed up in the library, bent over maps or reading reports and lists until his head hurts from staring. He should be perched in one of Viride's old trees, crackling along with the leaves still clinging in spite of the cold winter wind. He should be on the hunt, searching for--something, either their fugitives or another rare corpse dismantled on the forest floor, purged of its valuable parts and left to rot, unceremoniously. There is so much to do. He cannot concentrate on any of it because his heart is singing and his skin is for once literally humming like it's always done in his head and he cannot hear the woods or its animals.

He can only hear himself, the roar of an engine, the hiss of a stick of dynamite waiting to go off. He has seen Isra and her black rage and it has sung back to him and it is because of this that Andras thinks, though he would never say it, he is a little frightened of what will happen when the fuse wears down.

Andras banks to the left, spiraling out of the cloud cover just out of Delumine's beckoning reach, gliding to a stop on the west end of Eluetheria in a wave of agitated snow. It is dark, almost midnight, but the plains' shining blanket reflects the moon's light back at it and even Andras does not have to struggle to see its gentle rises and dips laid out before him for miles. It is... peaceful. Quiet. The Warden draws a deep, cold breath and lets it go through clenched teeth. Then another. Then another.

He almost does not hear the crunching snow.


@Liam




they made you into a weapon
and told you to find peace.





Played by Offline Marthanóir [PM] Posts: 69 — Threads: 8
Signos: 10
Dusk Court Citizen
Male [He/His/Him]  |  Immortal [Year 494 Summer]  |  20 hh  |  Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 57  |    Active Magic: N/A  |    Bonded: N/A
#2

The world is different here, somehow. Compared to the Fields, this area was blanketed in a layer of snow and frost, the grasses and sparse bushes hidden beneath the white.

It was something that Liam hadn't experienced in some time, not since the night in the frozen wasteland of Angosia with his best friend and someone that he had once called a friend. The memory of it was almost too painful to think about, and so Liam doesn't; not often, anyway. Instead, he spends his time focusing on where he was going, the changing landmarks. He hadn't been in a world like this in some time. Not since his home world, that is.

Most days, he missed Angosia like crazy. With all the memories tied up in it - good and bad - it was clear to him why he would and wouldn't miss it. More than the memories, he missed having something to do. It'd been so long since he actually felt like he was worth something. The empty feeling that lingered and carved out a spot in his heart was heavy and he hated it. Liam wanted something to make him worthwhile, something that he looked forward to. Was this place finally the thing to offer him something so that he didn't feel useless?

As Liam walked, he nearly missed the herds of bison walking along in front of him. Hulking mounds of brown grunting, the herds were something that he hadn't had much experience or interaction with prior to leaving Angosia, despite having thousands of herds. Though midnight, the herds were easily picked out thanks, in part, to the moon's light from overhead. Flicking his tail behind him, Liam moved on again, the snow crunching heavily beneath his hooves. Plumes of white air gusted from Liam's nostrils as he breathed deeply, the cold wind sending shivers down his spine; his winter coat hadn't yet finished growing in, but he was sure it would soon.

A flurry of movement to the left of him had him jerking his cranium up, audits pricked fully as he stood stock-still, listening, watching. His sharp beryl chasms squinted against the darkness, watching as a black figure - almost hidden in the darkness - steps out of a pile of snow. Canting his cranium to the side, Liam gently picks up the pace into a fast walk, a gentle nicker floating into the air as he approaches the smaller figure.

"Hello? Is there something I can help you with?" He's not aware that this may be the wrong thing to say.


Notes;; Oh man, poor Liam XD
Tag;; @Andras 
Voice Claim: Chris Evans
Words;; 436



you can't justify murder
by masking it with a cause
liam












Played by Offline Cannon [PM] Posts: 134 — Threads: 26
Signos: 80
Inactive Character
#3

someone says: i have forgotten how to pray; this is not to say that there is no divinity between us, in this; merely that i do not know what to do with it.

Liam is tall, tall enough that Andras is dwarfed by his arrival, all red and gold and sunshine where he is somehow simulatenously as cold as the dirt underfoot and as hot as the core of the earth. His magic is humming in his ear, the roar of half a decade in silence, the trembling of tectonic plates in motion.

Oriens must be laughing, somewhere, with his holy fist around the Warden's throat. He must tell his priests about every cruel wrench of his hand. He must tell his priests the sad story of his country's Warden, clothed in branches of blue light that buzz like a power line.

He realizes now that he had never quite been an engine, never quite felt so full of wild, hungry energy, until it happened. There is nothing holy about this feeling. There is nothing holy about tearing himself apart, even in service, even in prayer. When Liam speaks and Andras feels his jaw tighten at tooth-shattering speed, it does not feel like a prayer at all.

Andras laughs. It sounds like broken glass, like a cough, almost. It is mirthless. Black. He doesn't care. "I sincerely doubt that." he says, a statement that is final. Percussive. It drops out of him like a rock.

A part of him wishes it didn't. A part of him wishes he was not so full of the wilderness. To close his eyes and not see gold or scales or blood or teeth would be like seeing the face of god. And now he is looking at Liam but all he sees is eyes like molten gold, scales glinting in the cold white light of winter. He would worry if it weren't its own kind of heart-pounding joy. He aches with it.

He folds his wings, carefully. The smooth black of his face does little to hide his ugly frown. "I'm curious," he says, too slowly, with too much emphasis, "what you think the problem is? Hmm?"
all you want to do is dance out of your skin into another song not quite about heroes, but still a song where you can lift the spear and say yes as it flashes.

@Liam




they made you into a weapon
and told you to find peace.





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