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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
shadow play
Open Rainforest Cliffs 
Roskuld
Currently championing:
#11
roskuld
Still ignorant of all the trouble I'mma get us in


They were just so offended by seemingly everything about me--by my look, by the way I hissed at them--and honestly it added more fuel to the fire. Especially the mare, who was so indignant at being called a thief. Honestly I’d done it just to fuck with her, and it was clearly fucking with her, and I probably would’ve kept pushing it if the little girl hadn’t spoke up in a tiny, defiant voice.

My gaze is pulled to the smol-person, right as she starts emitting sparks from her back, the same way my wings constantly threatened to crackle into existence. The scowl on my face dropped; my face became slack from the shock of how fucking adorable she was. AWW~! I cooed, my once-angry brows now furrowed in an intense swoon. It caught me completely off guard--that this lil’ thing would have powers of her own, having a handle on them so early--and honestly it melted my heart to know that children could be such tiny, tiny assholes if you pushed them hard enough. I was conflicted; there was the sudden urge to cuddle her or push her over, I wasn’t sure which I wanted to do more, but honestly neither impulse was strong enough to compel me forward (She was just--over there, y’know, and I was here) so I was just stuck there for a moment watching her with dewy eyes.

*You don’t have to be rude.*

My attention was splintered again, this time by the short golden boy trying to chastise me with a stern brow. And then I actually laughed, braying like a donkey, folding in on myself until I stumbled to the ground. To be fair, I wasn’t actually laughing at him--it was the only weapon he had against me, to try and be right and proper--but he just accidently jumped on the theme of the party. “Lil’ boy, I ain’t gotta do shit,” I said with a voice shattered with laughter, “you’s right.”

I looked up at him from where I lay on the ground, my eyes indulgent and sneaky when, before, they were full of possessiveness (I’d already forgotten about that damn tree). “Kid, if you worried about people bein’ rude to you, you ain’t never gonna sleep at night,” I said, like I was giving him some sort of wisdom or something. “There’s always gonna be assholes and fuckfaces and a few of them are even gonna try an’ eat you, but even the worst ones use please and thank you before they munch your lil’ asshole. I mean, hell kid, even Kaos tip-toed is ass in our--MIDAS!!

I sat up suddenly, looking at the mare and her silver collar, my brain finally farting the random memory that was stirring under my eyes at the sight of her . Midas. “But--wait,” I stuttered, squinting at her, “Midas was a dude though.” And even though she matched the palette and the silhouette, there was just too much off for me to really be comfortable with my assessment. And, also. Midas was a dude and she ain’t got no dick.

“...who the hell are you again?” I asked, my brow cocked. Should I know you?


You know, the one at W. 103rd and Broadway?



x
Gwyn
Currently championing:
#12


GWYN
uh-oh, running out of breath, but I
oh, I, I got stamina


As she’d figured, everyone else gives in to the bully’s game; Galahad’s expression stiffens, and Zahra immediately seems to lose forty more degrees, which was impressive to Gwyn, considering how aloof she had been before. The tension in the clearing peaks, and the filly, bold, but not stupid, feels a bit of worry begin to nag at her. Taking a moment to pick a path out, if the adults start fighting, or the aggressive one goes full feral, Gwyn’s eyes fleetingly dance along the perimeter of the jungle, bordering the huge tree.

Glad when her magic seems to appease the angry person, in some way, the filly starts to smile, hiding her sudden tiredness behind a child’s pride – before the others ruin all her work. Though there is something less violent about the way the painted stranger rounds of them, this time, its still aggressive enough to make the little filly’s ears tilt back.

Shh, she wants to snip at Galahad, but she doesn’t know him very well, and he’s already said it, besides. The little one of gilded snow is then very relieved when, rather than pushing the colt over (or worse), the warrior just laughs. That relief quickly becomes wary concern, however, when the laughter leaves the stranger (who moments before seemed defensive, aggressive, and unlikely to do such a thing) falls to the ground.

The girl’s eyes hunker down, over her icy stare. She had seen grandfather fall, last, but it had been from weakness, not mirth (she was a rather serious child, our Gwyn – she knew little about giggle fits). What was she not seeing?

Listening, as the aggressive but subdued one rambles, Gwyn finds she agrees with much of it. Wondering why this person (woman, she was slowly determining) decided to speak such wisdom with so much uncouth dramatics was beyond her, at least until she suddenly shouts out what seems to be a name. The conversation there on is suddenly diverted to whoever Midas is – which is not Zahra.

Stay away from the crazy ones, arrives her father’s warning, clearly replaying in her mind.

Her name is Zahra,” the princess answers, perhaps audaciously, because the mare surely has the ability to defend and name herself. Besides - why did Gwyn even care if she was rude back? They were both rude and insensitive, and to children, none the less. Still, her father’s warnings about the mad had also come with a note of sympathy; some were just lost, he’d told her, as if he knew personally what such a statement meant. “And I’m Gwyn, and this is Galahad.

She looks to the golden boy as she mentions him, her smile supportive.

Who are you?” coolly questions the babe, her pale eyes searching the madwoman’s face.


Image by Jody Roberts@Flickr
I'm just wild
so sit the f#@k down

please tag gwyn for opening posts & mentions in group threads only
Zahra
Currently championing:
#13
For a long hard second Zahra stood there dumbly, as near to the flaming blonde as he’d allow (her mother too had burned similarly, perhaps it brought her some vaguely familiar comfort…), and with a mute expression lathered across pasty, bewildered features, she stared at the crass creature part sat-down on the soggy floor. The question posed, was one that spurred a rise of conflicted pain in her heart, so too a lurch from her hungry gut…

Who (the hell) was she?

A bubble of hesitation formed suddenly in her throat, stealing the sound brewing there and forcing her to gulp down visibly. Thankfully the cute, know-it-all filly, felt rather inclined to deliver a slice of reality on the winged-one’s behalf; Zahra nodded distractedly, pensively, to the tune of the childish voice, yet the sound of her name was rolling differently around bowl of her own twisted mind. 

Zah-ra. It stuttered.

‘Zah-ra’, came the gentle coo from her subconscious; from Ilham. 

”Zah…” she whispered beneath her breath, testing, as if trying to place broken fragments of a puzzle back together; recollection of her beloved friend and hero flashing into view. Rise and fall of the young black’s words continued like white noise in the back of her mind, and though she seemed outwardly attentive - eyes strolling between each face surrounding, ears swivelling individually to taste each sound - she was entirely preoccupied with a small piece of character, bubbling back to the surface. 

"ZERO!" she blurted suddenly, his silvery, sunset eyes materialising with all of the enticing brilliance of dawn’s first kiss. Already the beat of her heart had quickened into light frenzy, and as she poured through the events just unfolded - the marsh, all that death - a streak of panic entered her evolving expression. 

Again she gulped, forced down the weight of worry as it formed in like a stone in her throat. 

What if… 


“Like delicate lace,
So the threads intertwine,
Oh, gossamer web
Of wond'rous design!
Such beauty and grace
Wild nature produces...
Ughh, look at the spider
Suck out that bug's juices!”


― Bill Watterson, Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat: A Calvin and Hobbes Collection
Image

@Galahad
Zahra
Currently championing:
#14
What if he too had perished at the hand of the many-faced god? There was a multitude of feelings brewing within, -anger, disappointment, regret - all of which sprawled through her expressive face, unbridled. It had been so long since she’d last laid her eyes upon his slender, one-winged frame and held his gallant gaze with her own (more feeble), filled with admiration and wonder; and so much had been left unspoken.

Within her chest, Zahra’s heart pounded with escalating worry, concern, and beneath the shroud of glossy, glassy feathers, sharp, shallow breath forced her barrel to heave. There was another too, Ashamin, who had pulled so tenderly at her aching heartstrings, and she fought a flood of panic to pull an image of his face out from her crowd of memories. He had been the only horned-one to crack the shell of embedded dislike - though she’d never particularly thought of the melted ornament to be anything of the sort.

What if Ashamin had not escaped either?

While the children profess boldness of heart through word and confront the lunatic mare. Zahra watches vaguely, distantly, distractedly. Certainly they could fend for themselves, and worry for their welfare took a swift backseat to the other rising issues. "Wasn't particularly nice to meet any of you…" she spat hurriedly, eyes already dancing from their silly power-struggle, to the skirt of dense timber beyond. "…good luck."

The golden-bellied mare skipped then from their company, veering left away through the rainforest towards the smoky region that had dumped her - them all - in this new surreal land. With any luck, she would track down dear Hannah, or Ilham (goodness knew where they were), and search for trace of any faces that were really worth her time.  

{Zahra out}


“Like delicate lace,
So the threads intertwine,
Oh, gossamer web
Of wond'rous design!
Such beauty and grace
Wild nature produces...
Ughh, look at the spider
Suck out that bug's juices!”


― Bill Watterson, Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat: A Calvin and Hobbes Collection
Image
Gwyn
Currently championing:
#15
GWYN
uh-oh, running out of breath, but I
oh, I, I got stamina


Her name is Zahra, not Midas.  Maybe that’s why she’s not a ‘dude,’” the filly responds of the sudden outburst about whoever Midas was, her face a blank canvas that reads just what the girl is thinking about the big-bodied, rude mouthed mare:  what a nut-bag.

When Zahra leaves after her own, strange shout, Gwyn sees her own opportunity to escape the grouchy woman who’d burst from the trees slinging arrogance and cuss words.

Says the number-shouter,” Gwyn sarcastically jibes, her eyes rolling as she moves back towards the clearing, where her mother and sire are waiting with the herd.  Wondering if Galahad might come with her, she looks to the golden colt and nods her head towards the tree-line, and gives a small snort in response to Zahra’s remark. “You coming, Galahad?


Image by Jody Roberts@Flickr
I'm just wild
so sit the f#@k down

please tag gwyn for opening posts & mentions in group threads only