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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
You're a dream. Like everything else.
Open Halcyon Flats 
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#1
Eira...
Near the outskirts of Halyven, a section of which had been nominated for (Rixen and) Roscorro’s new herd, and towards the opposite direction taken to find The Portal, a low range of dunes gave way to a span of sandy flats and shimmering horizon, at least, for as far as Eira’s eye could see.

She stood one rainy afternoon, upon the ridge of one golden hillock, gazing across the curious region with a heart yearning to explore. Seldom did her heart stir with courage enough to slip from the sanctuary of those she had come to trust: Roscorro, Vynter and Kiada particularly, yet on this occasion, burning intrigue felt stronger than her worry. Too thin, misshapen and tired to flee from danger, the shaggy blue filly understood well her vulnerabilities in The Rift.

She stepped down after a good length of contemplation and found her clumsy stride quickening beyond control as the sand beneath gave way. All too soon Eria found herself colliding with the bottom, landing with knee-knuckles forward to cop the brunt; used to such falls though, she lifted and shook, dipping her lips only briefly to inspect for any damage. Sand. It was soft and forgiving, less so in this weather, but the hybrid had avoided cuts and bruises, so it seemed, thus was able to continue on without concern. A marvellous landscape opened around her, a pattern of delightfully glittering pools and a labyrinth of land woven between, and with inspired, wonder-filled eyes, she embarked along the nearest bridge, east.

There was a strong brackish flavour to the air that she sucked, sour, though not altogether unpleasant and the rain, she thought, added a sweet note. Her oversized head (for a body that was starved), lifted suddenly and dark blue eyes widened as the blue she had been following began to take on shape.

At first it appeared to be a forest, dark, with similar shades of green to the one down south, above the cliffs, but the nearer she walked, the better the mirage’s picture appeared to be: it was their beach, Ma and Pa’s, the one that she had Indra had raced the length of; the same ocean beyond who’s tides, Ma had told her, followed the call of the goddess, Moon.

Eira was amazed, so much so that she quickly forgot the swath of darkness that had swallowed the home that she’d known. The small black and teal wings upon her pounding breast fluttered wildly, enlivened. With staggering steps, legs burning with excitement, she hastened innocently and unsuspectingly towards it, “Ma! Pa! Indy!

It’s me! It’s Eira!”
 
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden

Open to any! 
Eira needs to coerce someone to kill something with her here. She is mute, though her inner voice could penetrate the mind of someone nearby.
Mortimer
Currently championing:
#2
Rain, Mortimer had decided, was a marvellous thing. It blurred most things in front of him, so he didn’t have to think about the next lonely horizon, the noise was a nice change from Mr Sobbing Sunshine that followed him, and it offered him a quick bath without him having to go to the trouble of swimming. The droplets smattered against him, plastering his forelock to his face and turning his coat a darker colour than its usual startling red and gold. He’d been travelling for some time now, not really caring where he went, living a simple nomadic life; eating, sleeping and moving on. At first, he found himself a little lost in the tedious routines of day to day living, having finally shaken off the attention of his grandfather, Mortimer had been left predominantly on his own. Not entirely, of course, he still had Sunny for company and despite the fact he didn’t talk back, Mortimer had developed a habit of having a one-way conversation with the moving figurine. At least it felt like someone might be listening. By now, Morty was used to his routine and had quite readily accepted that he might well be destined to live his life by himself.

Until now that is.

A familiar beach spread out before him, shimmering where the light hit it, which wasn’t that often in this weather, but Mortimer had a creepy feeling that he’d seen this place before. He might not know the whole story of what happened in the place he had been born, or what had caused the furore that had taken his father’s life, but Mortimer had noticed the Rift had some similarities. Now and then he would look at something and a tingling feeling of déjà vu would slither up his body and quickly he’d move on. His Grandfather probably knew more, but Mortimer had no intention of running into d’Artagnan anytime soon. 

It’s me!

Mortimer slammed to a halt.

“Was that you?”, he asked Sunny, who burst out crying in reply. 
“Obviously not”, Mortimer muttered.

It’s Eira!

“Who?” Morty swung his head, eyes a little wild as the rain splattered against him. Nothing… Did he imagine it? Eira? Who was that? Was he going mad? A frown shadowed his face as he tentatively began walking again—only to catch movement up ahead. 

A filly, small and skinny, too skinny, her legs seemed to struggle beneath her body along with a head that looked quite out of proportion with the rest of her pale blue self. She had wings too, although they looked rather moth eaten, but still they fluttered lively around her. A flash of sympathy flickered across Mortimer’s burnt red face to join the initial confusion—was she the one who said something? Although it wasn’t like it was said… aloud. Or was it? 

The filly hobbled across the beach, excitement brimming in her gaze though at what Mortimer couldn’t fathom for there was nothing but sand and water for miles. She was so wafer thin and delicate that autumn’s son half wondered if he was hallucinating her along with the voice.

Only one way to find out.

He approached tentatively, followed by the sobbing Sun God, cloven hooves sinking into the wet sand as he picked his way through the fluorescent waterscape.

“Are you… uhm… Eira?” it felt weird, talking to someone else, after so many days and weeks and months of not seeing anyone. She might not even be real.
Tomorrow we may come this way, and take the hidden paths that run
Toward the Moon or to the Sun.




Mortimer the Coerce-able at your service
{Image: kIxUuK9.gif}
the heart it hides such unimaginable things