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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
Ouroboros
Open Solanis 
Virga
Currently championing: None

Player is absent until 30-9-2018

#1
Virga...
Today, you are without the girl. You don't know where she is, but you know you could find her if you needed to. You know she would find you if she needed you. So you walk alone, once more a dark presence in the southlands. Once more aching with every step you take: for what you've lost. For what the Rift took.

A soft silence hangs from the trees. No snow falls, but white pillows the ground and smothers the branches. Your breath is a soft cloud around your muzzle. Your footsteps are a trail of holes punched through the white, broader and heavier than the steps of smaller animals, but your steps are light. You: a black smear on the whiteness of snow. No silver feathers tip your wings. Just: the narrow thrust of your black horn. The cold lights of your black eyes. Disdain curling your mouth into a hard, crooked line as you blink at the trees. You hate them.

You hate everything about this place.

In a way, you suppose, you are hunting. You do not expect to find your quarry here, though. You don't even know if it continues to live, or if it can be killed. But thinking about it, about crushing its ugly face beneath your hooves, about driving your horn through its heart, through its lungs, through its eyes, makes your heart beat a little faster. You don't remember wanting anything more than you want to kill the Rift's beating heart. Its scheming mind.

You dream about him.

But today is not the day you find him. Today, you wander the forest, alone and silent, and you want to wreck something but you're tired, too. Tired of being angry, of missing your family, of living without the wisdom of the gods. You pause now to stare up at the cotton sky, frowning against the cold, and your heart hurts when you think of the moon. Of running across the valley of the unicorns. Even of your sister....

A push of breath, unsteady. "What am I supposed to do?" But you know she won't answer you. She is gone. She is gone, a wound in the world and in you, and you ache with it so much you want to tear everything apart.

light shines brighter in the dark
littlewillow-art
Rixen the Vine King
Currently championing: Vjanta
#2
R I X E N
If I’d come here before, it was maybe only once or twice. This place reminds me a little of the Pinnacle. Yes, because it was absolutely covered in sand - beneath the thin layer of sparkling white snow. The snow was scattered about by the steady falling and picking up of my hooves, leaving little bits of sand, little round shapes in alignment with my stride, visible in my wave. It’s nice, though, because the Solanis was at least a little warmer than most other parts of the Rift this time of year. There weren’t enough trees to fully shade the warm yellow light of the sun, keeping out its hopeful rays, shrouding the land in a bleak darkness. It was good that the foliage didn’t grow dense enough.

It was very quiet. So much so that you could probably hear the sound of a pin drop, loud and clear. It might even echo, if you were to listen very closely. The only other sounds were of the snow collapsing beneath my weight: crunch, crunch, crunch. And the steady ins and outs of my breathing as I moved forward. When I exhaled, a small cloud of steam billowed out from my nostrils in a way that was almost dragon-like.

Yet I was not alone.

There was a figure. The pegasus was impossible to miss - a splash of ink amidst the surrounding canvas of white. He was one that I’d never seen before. Of course, around here, encountering new things, horses, was no longer an unusual occasion. As a matter of fact, I’d come to anticipate its happening. By the looks of him, he was probably here for the same reason as I was, although I knew better than to assume anything solely from appearances.

I didn’t want to interrupt his brooding, but likewise, from my position behind him there was a chance he would never turn around to notice me. "Hello?" My voice rang like the chiming of bells, starting out very faint but growing louder as I approached. "Are you alright?"

"Talk."


they heard me singing and they told me to stop
quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock



image credits || coding credits


@Virga :D here you go!
{Image: untitled_drawing_by_indelyde-dceus9t.png}
Virga
Currently championing: None

Player is absent until 30-9-2018

#3
Virga...
You hear the footsteps before you hear the voice. Your thoughts may wander, but they never wander far enough to pull you from the immediacy of your surroundings. The danger of the Rift. One ear cocks back, but you don't turn until the stranger speaks. His voice is... well, not threatening. Calm, maybe. Articulate. An impression: Blue, but not the blue of ice or of the sky.

Now, you turn. All in one fluid motion: weight rocking back, forehooves pivoting around. They rise up in one place and land lightly in another. The truncated wings at your sides flare briefly to correct your balance, and then you are facing him. Head up, nostrils flaring. He doesn't smell familiar. He doesn't look familiar, and your eyes narrow as they travel from his face down the rest of him, noting only briefly the sweep of his antlers, the bright green of his eyes. Your own horn is a killing weapon; his are not. Your wings fold again with a snap. Breath plumes, thick and white, into your whiskers.

"Fine." Your ears twist: back, forward, back again. Not pinned but enough to suggest a frown. You wonder if this man is Riftian. You wonder what it means if he is. If you should kill him. You don't particularly feel like expending the effort right now. You don't appreciate being interrupted, either, though. Did he overhear you talking to yourself? (to the moon) Does he know what you are?

You think not.

"What do you want?" You grind out after a while. What you mean is less polite: Why are you interrupting me? But a long time ago, your parents taught you some kind of manners, and some of them even stuck.

light shines brighter in the dark
littlewillow-art


@Rixen :D
Rixen the Vine King
Currently championing: Vjanta
#4
R I X E N
When at last I was near enough to distinguish his facial expression, it was painstakingly clear that the unknown stallion didn’t seem too happy to see me - and I couldn’t exactly blame him. Admittedly, I’d probably disrupted whatever he’d been doing, though I hadn’t caught a glimpse of what. Maybe it was simply his train of thought. Regardless, he did have a right to be bothered. I knew all too well how important a walk alone in the woods could be.

I stood patiently as he scanned me suspiciously, evaluating whether or not I was a threat. Hopefully he would realize that my intentions were pure, and it was not my plan to bring him any sort of harm. There wasn’t even a plan in place, exactly. Perhaps, since I was now here facing him, I could bring up the offer of a herd when the right moment rolled along. For now, though, I lay low, and would continue to do so until I was certain that such a suggestion would not offend him further. He hadn’t exactly taken well to my first question, offering only a curt response.

"Very well." Was the entirety of my response, with a small nod of my head, satisfied enough by his answer. There was no need to pry any deeper. There were more important things I wanted to know.

My unwavering gaze was like two beams of emerald-colored light beamed steadily back at him, watching his every movement, trying to learn all I could about the stranger simply through quiet observation. It seemed like a better choice than bombarding him with mundane questions. Both silver-tipped ears atop my head flicked back and forth, in a manner that was almost relaxed, listening to any and every sound that they could pick up. Other than the sounds of our movement and voices, it was dead silent. Almost eerily so, if one wasn’t used to it.

What did I want? Of course he’d want to know why I was here, bothering him. Yet I wasn’t quite sure myself, and it took me a moment of thought to find a suitable answer.

Then there was the sound of my baritone voice, rich in tone: "If I'm honest, reaching out's just what I do when I see a stranger passing by. It's become habit, I suppose. Most are glad to run into someone who knows their way around here and I'm happy to be of assistance in any way I can - not that you seem to need it." I acknowledged his air of independence aloud, gesturing with a small motion of my muzzle. It wasn't very often that I encountered someone who wasn't so eager to be encountered. But that wouldn't be enough to turn me away. "I'm Rixen, by the way." Without pressing, I waited to see if he would offer me his name in return.

"Talk."


they heard me singing and they told me to stop
quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock



image credits || coding credits


@Virga this took waay too long :c
{Image: untitled_drawing_by_indelyde-dceus9t.png}
Virga
Currently championing: None

Player is absent until 30-9-2018

#5
Virga...
The stranger's voice is agonizingly sincere. It reminds you — of someone. And the memory is a bitter taste in your mouth, twisting the delicate shape of your features. How dare you, a part of you wants to say. But you are silent. You stand, your small wings folded, your gaze a heavy darkness from the clean lines of your face. You want to hate him, but you can't. He does nothing worthy of hate. You wonder how he got here, if he's happy to live here, if he was born here — and you can't tell.

"How noble," you sneer at last. Your body shifts. Some of the tension leaves. As he names himself, you answer with the faintest nod. Then your eyes flick from his blue and white shape to the trees around you both. The snow. The aching, ugly land. "You seem like a kind man, Rixen," you manage to say. Your voice is monotone, a low rumble a little at odds with the delicacy of your own shape, but you don't notice that. You're thinking. "How did you end up here?" you manage at last, your gaze flickering back to him. It comes out of your mouth so casually, this question, but it's important. It will decide the course of this interaction, for better or worse.

But for his patience, you offer a small reward: "I'm Virga. Of the World's Edge."

light shines brighter in the dark
littlewillow-art


@Rixen
ooc// no worries ;)