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Ava Her breath caught at a voice and curled ears spin towards it. Though finding herself around others more again, she still felt the beginning of each conversation with singularity and a jolt. This one even more so, as she knew that voice. She hesitates to answer it. What business would she have with him? She’d been denied her death, which was still wasn’t quite over, but the thought of returning to one who seemed to promise it seemed….wrong. Still others passed her as they came, by force or will, and the child gives in to her curiosity. She stands among the crowd, letting them surround her without much care as to who they were or what they wanted. She didn’t recognize any faces (yet) and hadn’t planned on making any here. The girl, though willing to interact more than in the past, was still lost in her melancholy. Her magic still dead within her. Still she listens, hoping it answers some questions…but instead it creates more. He addressed Helovians. The he addressed Riftians. The girl’s face falls….which did she belong to? In confusion she tries to leave the gathering, her mind troubled. She was born here…but this wasn’t home. It didn’t feel it, and she didn’t want it. But then, it was, whether she knew it or not. It was her birthplace and across the horizon were her relatives which she was sure would celebrate her return (with her sacrifice). Confusion reigned and flourished in the rich soil of her wounded soul. The pearl, still trying to understand, pauses at the edge and look back, as if searching for answers. "their speech goes here and this is the color OOC::

Image by Tamme!

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Something was happening. There was a disturbance in the ether, the currents of energy rippling and shifting like water giving way to some giant's wading legs, as if something had appeared that was capable of disturbing the very essence of the Rift. Ilunga had not felt such a presence since Vjanta reigned supreme on the Riptide Isles, but though there was some nagging familiarity about this presence it was clearly not the Tigress returned to life. Ze was sensitive to such things, after so many trips outside the body. It had a way to shift ones perspective of the world, of opening up the senses to more than the physical. Such was the nature of hir people too, that they paid attention to such matters in perhaps a higher degree than other mortal beings.

Well. At least they had, before they were wiped out in one single, mighty blow.

Swift as an arrow the sea-born warrior darted through the waters toward the epicenter of the disturbance, and felt a pang of irritation upon finding that it was tethered to the land, too far from the shoreline and high up on the cliffs where Ilunga could not go by ordinary means. Finding a suitable cave and regaining the necessary calm that was required for the mind and body to separate took time, and ze had a feeling that ze was already late.

But shelter ze did find, and before long the equine hybrid looked down upon hir body as ze floated up from it, light as a thought now that ze was not weighed down by the flesh. Allowing the presence guide hir, ze passed through the rock of the cave and floated up, past layer upon layer of rock and earth and tangled roots, until ze emerged through the surface of the cliff nearly in the center of the gathering of equids.

Whether anyone could actually see the ethereal form of the hippocamp was doubtful. Perhaps those with the ability to behold spirits or the dead might be wise to its presence, or those otherwise blessed with the gift of seeing magic with eyes or the mind... It did not matter either way.  It was not for the sake of the aliens Ilunga was there, and the dark gaze was turned not to the many mortals but to the creature around whom they had gathered.

The sight of him made her recoil, the sheer force of his being so overpowering that the frail mental projection of hirself was all but torn apart. Gasping and struggling to maintain the spell Ilunga tried to grasp what it was ze saw, but no other term would come to mind except 'god'.

And like a god, the being spoke and issued commands, and Ilunga saw the mortals around hir nod in agreement or frown in dismay, and realized that perhaps there was more to these 'helovian's' presence in the Rift than ze had thought.

"Who art Thou?" the sea-child demanded, with a voice that was no more than a whisper, a mental projection of thought that might not even reach the deity. But Ilunga thought it would, if the being was half as powerful as it seemed to think. "What art Thou, to command us as were thou our ruler?"

Already the pull of the body was beginning to drain Ilunga's energies, but the hippocamp resisted with all hir might so that ze might hear whatever reply the being might offer. If any would come at all...

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@Kisamoa - Ilunga asks who Kaos is, and -what- he is.

It was about the beginning of the second week and to her overwhelming dismay, Zahra was still alive, drifting restlessly and aimlessly between the forest of ancients and the fluorescent wilderness to the north. She was starting to understand, more so accept, that this wasn’t hell - and she was far from dead; that this was the hand that she’d been dealt, whether or not she liked it. Out of all the chaos has risen one positive to note though, her sadness - that aching, sorrowful, loneliness - had been very much distracted. 

Often she thought of her sisters, pined for their steadfast, nurturing company, and weary legs had scoured many miles over the strange new contours of the Rift (or so she had witnessed others calling it), searching for them. Hannah had vanished within moments of their arrival - a wild glint had flashed through her eye and like a feral fox, her beloved form had vanished without trace into the whispering shadow. At first, the concept of such a great loss hadn’t dawned on the grim-featured girl, but as the days wore on, and the population around her became less and less escapable, the hole left in lieu of that emotional bond began to sting. 

Occasionally there were snippets of sound from the spider who yet huddled inside the web burrow in her mane. Ilham had not fled her side, thankfully, but it was evident that their connection had grown ill, quiet and broken. Through some capacity, the tiny arthropod had been busy weaving new layers along the end of their silken ream (the resource from which her magical ability to craft, drew from). The conflicted mare was relieved to know the youngest of her dear siblings was safe. 

Though sad certainly, the dysfunction of these cherished - before, unappreciated - relationships, had inadvertently along the way, played a healthy part in the rediscovery of herself. 

Zahra had more or less made peace with the fact that Helovia was gone; for her it was a positive thing, for the realm of the four gods, the Earth, the Moon, the Sun, and the Time, was interwoven with the pain of the past and everything that had been a negative influence in her life. Though a slim weight of guilt was harder to shed, she was more than glad to find a new sort of familiar - and one that bared absolutely no semblance, the the previous. So too had her dreams begun to soften whenever she so inclined to sleep; instead of the constant harry of confusing flashbacks, she was revisiting her time spent here, in the neon wilds. 

It was true; in spite of all the destruction, the arachnophile had a lot to be thankful for. 

There came upon the wind - through the earth, resonating to life through her veins - a voice, an urge, that commanded obedience, and without ability to defy it, the winged girl slithered forward from her reflection beneath timber towards the rocky southern rim of the old, breathing forest. An assembly had gathered before the formation of a different deity - one that she had heard rumour about (perhaps), but not that she had ever seen. Or had she? With a quiet, undecided (and almost fearful) eye, she beheld him and ears tilted forward curiously to engage the message he imposed.  

Who was this?

The rain eased across her sodden shoulders as though quietened by the ominous rumble of divinity through the atmosphere, and while the light all around her dulled to a moody twilight, around him it gathered, flashed and flared in vibrant, vivid hue. The more he spoke, the more the situation seemed to Zahra, to make sense. She realised quickly that this immortal with the help of his Helovian counterpart, had sucked the inhabitants of her world into this whole new dimension; neither heaven, nor hell! It was a fresh beginning, a clean start, and in accordance with his concluding request, the spider-girl drew a deep, brooding breath and nodded (if only to validate the idea for herself). "Thank you..."

“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
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I NEVER KNEW DAYLIGHT COULD BE SO VIOLENT.

The Rift had awakened.

Sidhra wasn’t sure what to make of this development, to be quite honest. The last time there had been this much activity in the Rift, it had been nearly disastrous for this place and all who lived here.  Lands disappeared in rather traumatic fashion and the Gods had disappeared with them, never to return.  She had thought that that had been the end of of it, but she could see now how foolish she had been to believe that in retrospect.

Kaos is impossible to ignore.  The portal, for one, had not been subtle.  Moreso, the sounds of many different equines traipsing through the forest did not go unnoticed by the little fae.  Overlarge ears flicked in the direction of the hurried hoofbeats and silver-white eyes strained to make out distant shapes between the trees.  She quickly wove her way through the familiar forests, only to draw to a halt in the comfortable shadows.  Magic had never been absent from these lands, but this new creature (Deity? She couldn’t be sure) seemed to control much of this new energy.  These Helovians certainly held a fair amount of disdain for the creature.  Sidhra, however, didn’t know what to make of this creature.  

Whatever he was, this creature was clearly a part of these lands. His request was simple enough, even though the little fae still found herself wary of these newcomers.  But it seemed, for all intents and purposes, that these strangers were here to stay.  Who was she to deny these newcomers information regarding her home?

The little fae was more than content to stand and watch for the time being, keeping a wary eye out for her sister.  The tension lingering in the air was thick, and she was unwilling to but Anuya’s life in danger over something that she still didn’t quite understand.

S I D H R A

image credit

His anger is a tempestous thing; it rages like a fire inside him, burning at his thoughts, scorching at his sanity. His thoughts are on a loop inside his head - Kaos killed Isopia. Kaos killed Aithniel. Kaos killed Ophelia. Kaos killed Ampere. Kaos killed Argen. Kaos destroyed the Throat. Kaos must die. Over and over again the warlord thrusts these words against the inside of his skull until they consume him, until he's ready to explode with the rage inside him. So when the false God Kisamoa calls them, beckons them as though they are his to control, it is hard for Volterra to hold his temper in check. He wants to rip, tear, annihilate; he wants to rip apart this heathen and send the bloody pieces to Helovia to satisfy Isopia's spirit. He marches through the crowd with Vadir riding upon his haunches. He listens to the false God even as he burns inside. His attention shifts to Erthe, who is raging against Kisamoa as well; he slips to her side, lifting his lips to speak for her ears only. "We will destroy him one day, Erthë, I swear it. Not today, but one day." Volterra wants nothing more than to crush Kisamoa now, but he knows it would be impossible. He will bide his time, gather his strength, then strike. AND THE WORLD WILL END IN FIRE

dragons: iconian fonts.dafont

@Erthë

I wandered, my head heavy with whirling thoughts I could near call unease in this alien world. Since I had begun the trail had grown even more crowded as shmoke and mist gave way to humid forest and my Wings ached for want of flight but still I could not divine the curtain of sky in this place. So I walked with no heed to time or direction, perhaps truly lost for the first time in my life till at long last there came a pull, a heed, that beckoned so to me. It was subtle to the point I thought it were my own thought save that I was utterly aware that I was compelled. The twitch in my muscles for the half beat was enough to warn me, for I knew myself, but I resisted not and went hither on.

No surprise I was drawn to his presence. Kisamoa. The name came freely to my mind as one did not simply forget that face, even one that changes. Before me are a number of others, some utterly strange and others from that deceased land of Helovia, and those stood clearly apart especially for their hard words . It felt wrong to say I was of Helovia and I could not wholly word my feelings on its passing. I'd only spent little time in that land, of which I know now was the beginning of this mischief for I too had been among that first party were Kisamoa revealed himself as he did now. What happened since my ears heard of in passing from rumor and heresay but the events were grim by far and disturbing from what I could reckon. Of anything I knew those Gods of Helvoia were slain and doubtless more if I read the faces right. I had left the land in its strife only to return in time to get swept in the events of now. If I were confused I could only imagine how others fared but unlike them I did not have the same fire in me for Helovia though I could mourn it in my own fashion.

Aside, however, from what pity roosted in my chest my curiosity was roused and it crossed my mind that perhaps through my willingness to learn the ailing and wary could adapt too. Or at the very least I would know more for myself. As a traveler this was a keen opportunity for myself and it would be unwise to dismiss.

" Yes, what words would you share with me?" I say aloud, speaking to no one in particular save toward anyone who'd be willing to humor me. " I know not of this place, nothing of true fact, alas, beyond cagy rumors. Rid me of my ignorance, I pray you."

Something deep within Iskra urged him. See, magic doesn't really have a feeling, at least not something that's always there, taking up space like the bones you can push on under your skin or the lungs you watch move your sides. It's more like a sudden something, the way embarrassment can flush through you, or adrenaline roars through your veins and pricks behind your ears. So at first Iskra didn't know what the feeling was, or why it had come so suddenly upon him. Initially he glanced at Castiel, thinking the whale or their bond had something to do with it, "Is that you?". The Leviathan gave a questioning orange pulse through their connection though, drifting calmly beside him, and Iskra shook his head dismissively. "Well do you feel it?".

If Castiel did or didn't they weren't able to communicate it to one another, so Iskra was left with merely knowing he felt it, like a low vibration of need, and he was half guided, half followed, a set path through the south towards the beckoning call.When he arrived alongside so many others he was immediately suspicious, feathers fluffing up in posture as the colt's mouth filled with dread. He knew scenes like this, he knew what happened at them, and he knew who would be here.

Kaos

A low growl (pathetic given his age) kicked up in his chest as his eyes flicked over the hideous creature that dared to call himself a god. An overwhelming desire to rush up screaming with magic and weapons blazing brewed up inside Iskra. He was born of fire and lightning, and even if he'd had no reason to pick up a weapon before, he was finding one now in the horrors of Kaos. His teeth clenched, and his cheek twitched as he held onto the feeling though - the images of horses much stronger than him exploding into dust left a certain strain of caution in him too. Maybe he had those same roiling emotions as his bloodline, but he was not at the mercy of them (yet), and he rationalized himself into a steel calm for the time being.

An ear twitched at a familiar voice though, and at words that aligned with his own thoughts. Turning, Iskra was relieved to see Volterra, and he slipped up towards the familiar stallion. "Hello Sultan," he greeted kindly enough, but with a stiffness that he retained from Kaos' looming presence. Likely Volterra didn't recognize him, Iskra being just one of the hundreds of foals on the sand. That didn't matter though, because Iskra found familiarity and solidarity in him, and so he stood with a seriousness utterly unlike him in the face of this very real threat.

Victory is in my veins
I will not negotiate

Iskra

background texture credit to Stuart Rankin at flickr.com

@Volterra

(erm, reader beware. Tori is using some rather foul language)

VICTORINA
When we look up at the stars, we see only the memory of light; and though they are distant we know they still shine

So we're fucking stuck here, in the asshat Kaos's realm?! Oh this is just fuckin lovely. I have no way of going back to visit Mama's grave. I'll never see the Throat again, my birthplace and home. To top it all off, i've lost everything other than the necklace Mama gave me and the one I found right before the portal. Every last one of the amulets exploded. Some of those had been passed down from Mama's Mama. But this foul place had taken them away. Yeah, you might say i'm just a bit pissed off. Not to mention I come through and find out just how many siblings I really have.... Good Gods Papa... Did my Mama even mean ANYTHING to you?! I toss my head, the ruby gems catching the neon lighting for a moment.

But when the non-stop rain started pelting me, driving me in a certain way I go. I don't do it willingly that's for sure. I honestly want to be left alone. Alone to sulk and figure out my next move. When I arrive, I find that I was not the only one pushed this way. In fact quiet the crowd has gathered. I arrive just in time to hear a mare raging against Kaos. I tend to agree with her, and was going to make my way over until... Ugh Papa. Don't tell me she is another one of your baby mamas.

I instead stay to the back of the crowd, ready to leave when possible.

"Talk"

CASCA He had learned to be a light sleeper. It wasn’t hard, with all of the new smells and strange sounds that would keep anyone awake, but mostly, Casca remembered the terror of separation. Even though he had only been alone a short while after coming through the Portal, the boy did not want to revisit the feeling of panic he’d experienced there in the darkness, the looming sense of dread that everything would not, in fact, be all right. He wasn’t trying to be a baby about it, he just didn’t want to be by himself like that again. And so he noticed when they left. Da was the one to slip away first. The red colt roused, but did not do much more than watch him retreat through his lashes—Da often snuck off like that, but he always came back. Casca was about to return to sleep when he felt Gal stir next to him. Cracking an eyelid, the boy watched with great surprise as his younger brother rose and scampered off into the woods after Da. Now he was awake. His chest burned with indignation—Gal had hardly even spared glance back! What a jerk, the boy thought to himself. No way that Gal was going to have all of the fun and leave him stuck here with Haldir. Keeping a careful eye on the snoozing stag, Casca got to his hooves. Just like Da had showed him, he crept to the edge of the clearing, avoiding any sticks that might snap or leaves that might crunch, and then—then he was off! He could see Gal’s flames burning up ahead, and he trotted after him, remembering to stick to the soft mossy footing that would mute his hoofbeats. His brother hadn’t yet turned around, so he made a game of it as he went along. How sneaky could he be? They went along in this fashion for a ways until the light suddenly stopped moving up ahead. Seizing the opportunity to catch up, Casca put on a final burst of speed and tumbled out of the trees behind Gal. “Hey!” he wheezed in a decidedly loud whisper, “Where’dya think you were going without me? Whatcha doing?” Clearly, he hadn’t mastered the art of subtlety quite yet. "blah blah blah."

table code by kaons.deviantart.com

@Galahad

K I A D A The girl was drawn against her will. The pulsing wound in her chest, glowing teal as the liquid oozed and dripped down her leg seemed to pull her further into the cliffs, despite wanting to stop numerous times. The pain from her shoulders still evident, blood beginning to clot, though the trails where her blood had fallen was still fresh from her attempt at using her bladed wing armor. With every step, her joints ached and her mind worked tirelessly to try and focus on other things rather than the pain. But the only other thing she could think about was the force pulling her to them. Frustration crept into her mind, her temper only growing shorter with the events she witnessed in the last few days. Anger seethed beneath her skin, but where before there would have been flames acknowledging her anger in the shape of wolves and snakes lashing out, the tiniest blip of flame escaped. Her emotions were finally masked, only to peek out occasionally with a little lick of fire. Except this fire burned and sucked the air of the Rift like it was the last cool drink in the midst of summer. And yet she could consciously control it one way or another. Perhaps a blessing in disguise? More than likely, Kiada assumed the dark world around her was simply out to get her. Even still, she could hardly keep from walking straight toward the gathering. The moment her eyes landed on Kisamoa, everything began to fade. Her vision blurred, all others that had gathered simply slipped away from her mind as she looked upon the monstrosity who was her god and she his chosen. Stepping into the center of the gathering, closer to Kaos, she ignored the voices around her as she stood among the others. Her shoulders wet and dark with blood, her flames beginning to erupt in hot plumes of flame. “You.” She murmured, her voice dry and cracking, lifting her head as tall as she could as the movement pulled against the scabs trying to form. The teal liquid continued to run down her chest, glowing against the X marking. She looked like a mess. She felt like a mess. But more than anything else, she felt pissed. “I FOUGHT for you.” Her ears pinned back to her neck, darkened blue gaze glaring upon the mismatched pieces of the world that made the giant God known as Kaos. “What kind of reward is this?” She hissed at him, her flames erupting further, as if oxygen had just been granted to it. They took the shape of snakes lashing out with each lick of fire, unable to contain herself or simply listen to Kaos. But she did hear that he wanted them to learn of the land. And so she would – she would learn, and in her efforts, try to find a way to enact her revenge. She hadn't seen her father or her twin, watched the boy she loved and her best friend die by his hand. She thought she was to be one of his chosen, one of his favorites. He told her himself that there would be beauty in the chaos of following him, and she had blindly listened. There was no beauty here. at the end of the world, or the last thing i see — you are never coming home.

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