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

Private  - she lives the poetry she cannot write

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Played by Offline Obsidian [PM] Posts: 65 — Threads: 8
Signos: 30
Inactive Character
#1

Sereia


The sun upon the surface of the sea is liquid gold. It is so bright it dances like sparks below the setting sun. So bright is the sea that one might easily miss the girl who breaches the surface and gazes ashore. She is as gold as the ocean that births her and she possesses all of a kelpie’s stealth.


Sereia pauses for a moment, scans the beach and ensures it is empty. Only then does she silently glide toward the shore. The secluded corner of the beach she aims for lies hidden around a corner, unseen. It is shame that drives her here and begs her body to change faster as her forelimbs touch sand. Her body morphes only as fast as it ever does, it does not heed her pleas. Sereia should know by now that her kelpie will not be rushed.  


Water pours from her too-slim sides as she rises from the waves. The meandering, rocky path that leads to the cliffs above beckons her. Sereia wonders of her sisters and at the thought a butterfly takes flight in her abdomen in delighted anticipation of seeing them again.


She moves toward the path, across the sand, her limbs still feeling slightly strange. She does not see the other horse move in the dark of cliff’s shadow. Yet Sereia does smell the scent of meat upon the air and hurries on her way. The further she is from the sea, the more disconnected she and her kelpie become. Hurry. Her heart stutters in her chest. 


@Dalmatia

 

She was brave and strong and broken all at once
~Anna Funder











Played by Offline e-cho [PM] Posts: 20 — Threads: 4
Signos: 0
Inactive Character
#2

Marisol may have released her, but she is still a caged storm. She never should have been unleashed upon the shores of Terrastella, climbing back into the shadows of the cliff like some crypt keeper. Regardless of her own health, her skinny sides still showing the prison and stone's neglect to her health, a paleness and sickness from years underground without tasting light plain on her brow, on her delicate-boned neck that does not shine as it should. A paler version of the magpie-woman she once was, the girl that helped rule over the Halcyon and enforce peace throughout Dusk despite its reputation left in shambles, she still rises like the tides that she so despises.

When she was young, it was said that her father was taken by the sea, shreds of his skin found washed up on the beaches, strewn along the innards of the swamps.

Kelpies.

Dalmatia knew their hunger made them into raging beasts, tending to their more basic natures than those within the city did. Her father had left one morning on a mission with his unit... None returned.

That day, she'd learned two things. One, her father would never return. Two, kelpies were unredeemable monsters.

Her father had not taught her to despise other creatures, not those stuck on land nor in the water, not strange sand vipers and other mixes. He'd raised her well, he treated others well... And she'd been left to wonder, as a young thing, why those creatures had taken one of the most honorable men she'd ever known?

Disgust is an ember in her chest, easily ignited with gasoline and scales into a fire that burns hotter and hotter. Today, she goes to the shore where what was found of her father, what was burned of him later, had been scattered off the edges so that he might find peace in the calm of the waves and the storms of the skies.

Today, she sees something wash ashore and quickly begin to walk. Its ribs heave, its eyes are bright, its nerves are easy to see like a rabbit before it dies at the hands of some bird of prey. There is a frown, a knotted brow, a knotted chest, and pure hostility as she darts from behind her own shadowed alcove. This thing does not smell of dusk, not that Terrastella is hers to protect anymore.

"Halt, who goes there?" She growls out, marching forward as a conqueror, a warrior of justice, a woman with a chip on her shoulder and nothing nice to say.


Beware: I am fearless, and therefore, powerful.

@Sereia | ahhh so excited for this ! thank you so much for your patience and love ;u;











Played by Offline Obsidian [PM] Posts: 65 — Threads: 8
Signos: 30
Inactive Character
#3

Sereia

Halt, who goes there?


The words come like lightning. Their sudden arrival is as loud as thunder ricocheting off the cliffside rocks. Sereia pauses. She sways, her land legs not yet used to her weight. The sea beckons her back to it. It whispers of danger and pushes itself up the beach toward her. With salt and foam fingers it reaches out for her, lapping at her heels. But Sereia does not heed to the ocean’s beckoning. Its warning is already lost as she turns her gaze toward the woman who steps out from the shade of the cliffside.


The woman is as angular as Sereia is. Their bodies have known too little food of late. Yet for one there was no choice and for the other… too much?


Covetously Sereia lets her gaze slide gently down one of the stranger’s wings before it peels away like the tide retreating from her feet. Her body still drips with the ocean. Droplets fall like tears and as the woman steps closer and Sereia retreats, a trail of dark sand marks where she has been. 


“I am just visiting.” Sereia breathes as she turns her cheek away, letting the sunlight fall away and shade crawl up to where the corners of her smile reach too far. “My sister lives within Terrastella. I have come to see her.” Her every step is newborn, ginger, as if her slender limbs are too long. There is something akin to a fawn in the way the kelpie moves, the way she watches the other woman, wary. 


“My name is Sereia.” She peers toward the path up from the beach. It is an escape, a chance to flee. For every step the woman takes toward her, Sereia continues her retreat. The smell of the stranger’s blood, the song of her heart pounding in her chest. It is intoxicating. The breeze does not help as it sweeps along the beach, brushing past the woman, carrying to Sereia every scent upon her skin, sea-salt and cedar and that wild musk of vitality. The girl trembles, as if in the wind. But truly, her ribs are rattling with the effort of keeping a kelpie at bay. 


“It was nice to meet you. But I had better hurry, my sister will be waiting.” And gingerly she moves to step around the other woman. The sunlight pours down upon the path, beckoning her like salvation.


@Dalmatia


 

She wore her hope like a crown,
an unspoken soliloquy of dreams

~ Ariana











Played by Offline e-cho [PM] Posts: 20 — Threads: 4
Signos: 0
Inactive Character
#4

Salt stings her nose, but she has long since become accustomed to its acrid scent washing away the world from her time in the prison, so close to the sky and even closer to the sea. It is the same scent that now clings to the girl of gold and blue before her, skittering away as some crab upon the beach, fear touching large eyes. Dalmatia knows that she should be afraid. Even as a walking skeleton, she is a fearsome, awful thing to behold. Every curve of her, dilapidated as an old house forgotten for years, still screams of raw power, of years spent hunting and diving from the sky until she is a grey mess upon the clouds and nothing more than a wraith in the sky.

Before, Dalmatia was one of the Halcyon's most promising and skilled cadets. She was called a wraith many a time in their unit, quiet as a ghost and twice as deadly. She was a colorless death from the heavens themselves, or perhaps she'd been an angel, a honed blade of the goddess herself to slice through those who would turn their faces away from Vespera. Even Vespera abandoned her in that damned cell.

Perhaps it is Dalmatia who has now forsaken the gods.

That sin is not upon her brow, it does not roll droplets of sweat over her sea-slicked skin. Only the sun does that as he shines upon her mercilessly, quickly drying the kelpie. Wind stirs the shells in Sereia's hair and Dalmatia's sage green gaze shoots to them, assessing and dismissing them as a threat. Strange, though. They are strange decorations to be worn in the hair. Vespera wears know shells upon her. The people of Terrastella do not always decorate themselves in such a way either.

Nostrils flare as eyes narrow. "Visiting from the sea?" she huffs out, looking to the waves for an army more of shark-toothed women ready to devour her city....

But Terrastella is not her city. It is the home that forgot her. It is the place that threw her away. She is nothing more than trash to them and it is revolting all the same.


Beware: I am fearless, and therefore, powerful.

@Sereia | exactly one decade later...











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