an equine & cervidae rpg
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Played by Offline zuno [PM] Posts: 8 — Threads: 2
Signos: 45
Vagabond Spy
Male [he/his/him]  |  6 [Year 501 Summer]  |  15.1 hh  |  Hth: 11 — Atk: 9 — Exp: 10  |    Active Magic: N/A & N/A  |    Bonded: N/A


When it rains, it pours. You hadn't minded that much at the beginning, when the air was still hot with the fading evening, and the offering of relief seemed like a gift. The idea you'd made in your head included exploration beneath a canopy of leaves, the sound of rain gently tapping the earth in rhythm, and a dampness laid across your coat that would wash away the sand left embedded in your coat. 

Oh, how wrong you were. 

Instead, the rain comes with a viciousness that sends you into frustration. The gentle dampness that you had expected has turned into an overwhelming amount of wet, and while it is likely cleansing the sand from your coat in the process, it brings you no happiness. Frustration is currently pulling the muscles in your face rigid, thrusting out an aggravated sigh as your pace picks up into a hurried trot. 

This is where we come to view one of your numerous flaws. You have the tendency to dive far too deep into your emotions, to the extent of almost meditation with the seriousness of your attention. You ignore any outer stimuli in favor of your own thoughts, so heavily caught up in things that only relate to yourself to care for anything else. Many of those who have had the opportunity to address it have already taken the effort to ensure that you are aware of it, and in which you are. It is by your own decision, based on pride that encourages ignorance, that you choose to not improve. 

It is with that, that you fail to acknowledge the growing density of the trees that you've been hiding in, so heavily focused upon your disdain for this weather. There is never a time where you realize they are, or that the canopy is thickening, that the raining is thinning.

The moment that captures you is when the rain stops altogether, and lays a cool breeze against your wet coat. A feeling, - instinct - grows in the pit of your stomach as you become aware of the fact that you are somewhere, not just anywhere. Walls encircle you with the mouths of hallways spread wide. Discomfort grows.

Where is everyone else?

Surely, a place with walls in this country would attract attention, seeing as you've yet to find the people in any buildings yet. It doesn't bring you relief as you shift your wings to lift them a few inches, pulling them above your shoulders a small amount but never enough to expose your sides to the world. Ears search for anything that mimics yourself, brows tense, and eyes hard as you pull your chin in. One snort, a quick pawing, and you find yourself earning interested, and confused looks from the only companionship available to you. The fox-like creatures work to make you feel as you are the one out of place, acting this way when obviously you've invaded them by your own fault. 

No one seems to be coming though, as the discomfort grows to an almost anxiety-inducing level. Standing alone in an open space, you take the option that feels best to you, quickly dipping down a hallway of your choice.

Any anxiety you might've been cultivating now finds itself discarded at the end of said hallway. For you have always loved the stars, fitting them into your earliest memories:

of your earliest memory, your mother a reminder of the nightscape with the stars painted against her, maybe that's why you were so attached to the world's ceiling; of your father, bathed in darkness, and only broken by what you could've believed were eyes broken off from the moon; of Roland, who taught you how to fly, who's skin was so frail against sunlight that she rarely left the Temple beneath the glow of day, who taught you how to map the stars. 

Therefore, it shouldn't be much surprise that you are as excited as you are to find a place to learn again, a quick gasp of excitement fleeing from your lips as the last tuft of hair on your braided tail curls over, and flickers in childish amusement. At last, something worth enjoying. 

It only further adds in your good mood as you're fast to find the pillows. It's been far too long since a proper bed, or at least something akin to the comforts you'd grown accustomed to. And after some time spent dragging them about as you please, either by a telekinetic tug, or by a determined grip with teeth, desperate for pleasure once more. 

Having at last approved of your makeshift bed, you toss yourself into it, and begin the steady process of removing the braid from your tail. 

@any / speaks / a softer theme to this thread, come enjoy yourself! 


Played by Offline wild / jet [PM] Posts: 64 — Threads: 6
Signos: 945
Day Court Scholar
Female [she/her]  |  4 [Year 503 Summer]  |  18.3 hh  |  Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 22  |    Active Magic: N/A  |    Bonded: N/A


Jane watched the world around her change, slowly and then all at once. The forest was bigger than any she had seen, the bark a dark that seemed to slowly consume her as she passed. The far reaches of the Dawn Court, Jane thought that maybe this shouldn’t be where she decided to spend her time.

But it was lonely, in Day. She saw the other mares with their groups of friends and their men, quick lovers who thought they were beautiful. They were happy and laughing and gossiping- surely about Jane, too. She felt her accent distinctly, an outlier among all these people who were so like her but not quite. She had received her education in the upper echelons of her herd as a lady in waiting for the queen, her expertise had been with mares many years her senior.

The rain had caught her out for a change. Jane now travelled under the certainty that she belonged to the Day Court by name, but her loneliness led her to travel; exploring with a latent interest the fields of this new land. Summer thus far had been hot and even slightly claustrophobic. Around her, the fillies her age exploded with the first year of availability; they hung together and gossiped under the eaves of the Day Court while the soldiers passed.

How Jane longed to be like them. Not one of them had spoken to her- instead, each day she went to court and stood in silence as she heard the news. There was one interesting thing going on; the changing of the king. She had made her vote after not being there a month, and she hoped that it would not come back to bite her.

The rain started to move harder and she pushed herself into the copse of trees, shivering slightly. Summer rain is always more vicious than winter rain. While a relief from the hot weather, it was more like rage than any other emotion. If winter rain was spit and drizzle, Summer rain was a whipping; a cat o nine tails against the flank. 

Jane glanced around the trees. She had managed to find a spot where the rain didn’t reach the ground as easily, but every now and then a droplet would find her shoulder and shock her like lightning. 

These trees were not a copse, but a hallway, she realised latently. As if in a dream, she turned and started to follow.

Soon the world became shelves, books, scrolls. Deep in her chest, Jane knew that she’d found something that didn’t belong to her.

But she wanted to belong to it.

A gossipy young girl like any other, she stood in the dark of the library with her ears piqued for input. Gold tips twitched, quivered, and she scanned the darkness for predators. Or anyone. Dust floated gently. There was light, somewhere, and she could only imagine where it came from. 

She walked, curious. This was a good place. She turned the corner and froze- for there stood a stallion; a pegasus. Jane was frozen in place, her coat shivering in the golden light of her markings. She turned to sneak out, but immediately crashed into a piece of furniture that then fell to the floor. Jane yelled in surprise and then cursed internally.

@[Abbat] / speaks / notes


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