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Open Rainforest Cliffs 
Amaris
Currently championing:
#51
amaris
dragonborn
She watched as families reunited, watched as familiars recognised each other, embraced, consoled, comforted and otherwise went on their merry business.

Perhaps merry wasn't the correct term. It certainly wasn't what Amaris was feeling herself - though she wasn't feeling much of anything these days.

It was hard to miss the approach of the horned mare - if @Wessex had been unusual before, she was plain noteworthy now. As the crowd shifted to let her through, the dragonmare offered a small smile in greeting as she realised the dino-mare was making her way towards her. The smile held no real happiness aside from slight relief in seeing a friend from Helovia, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Wessex," she purred in response, nodding her scaled skull, arching an eyebrow in question at the change in the horned mare's appearance. "Everything is as O.K. as can be expected given the circumstances," she replied, shrugging her great winged shoulders noncommittally. It was not the time to divulge all that she had felt and thought since the moment she had learned Helovia was doomed.

"And you?" she questioned, curiously extending her nose to sniff at the changed crown that adorned Wessex's cranium now. "I hope you have not come into harm's way?"
sky above me — earth below me
and fire within me
Wessex
Currently championing:
#52
Are any of them truly feeling anything akin to “real happiness?” Wessex surely isn’t, with her rash proving particularly obnoxious and without a real purpose to cling to. Simple women (simple only because she prefers it that way and doesn’t seen the practicality in making a fuss over most things) like her need purposes, whether it’s training or fighting or serving a Deity. They do best with clearly demarcated steps and obstacles to overcome. This random ‘exploration’ shit is great, but she needs a team to join, a group to protect, someone to be ‘muscle’ for. And right now, everyone’s just scattered willy-nilly, and it’s really just another thing that is under her skin. Another itch which cannot be scratched.

Her large head dips in agreement with a little look that says she very clearly agrees with the dragon-mare’s assessment of the situation. They’re alive. Not exactly thriving, but that is to be expected. It’s a transition period, and an uncomfortable one at that. Seeing Amaris’s curiosity about her newest accoutrement, the warrior keeps her head lowered to allow for inspection. The blood was long ago washed away by the continuous rain, leaving a very interesting pattern on the skin – but Wessex hasn’t seen it yet, she wouldn’t possibly know what it looks like. Instead she chuckles bitterly, “The Rift seems to be threatened by me. Or appreciates the mutations and thought I’d look prettier with something a little… bigger.” She shrugs. “Either way, it looks like spying is no longer a legitimate career choice.”

Her head raises and orange-yellow gaze turns to the crowd as it dissembles. “God, can’t anyone just stay still for a little bit? Trying to find my group is damn near impossible at the moment.”

@Amaris
Yael
Currently championing:
#53
Luckily for Yael, it seems that her little outburst goes unnoticed. With a deep breath, the golden former Seer turns and tucks her wings in tightly against her swollen sides, huddling under her cloak as she braces herself against the deluge of rain. She can feel tiny hooves straining against her sides, the tightening of her body as it prepares to give life to the child she’s been protecting. The many-times over mother fights it, attempting to use sheer will power to keep the contractions at bay.

How long that will work is unforeseeable, but the tiny mother knows that she must find shelter, and perhaps solitude, if she is to deliver this child stress-free. Stress-free? Ha, that’s a good one. Part of her wants to reach out to someone, to ask them to come with her – but Amaris is with the horned woman, children will be no help, and everyone else is walking away. So Yael is on her own once again, and Adonai, she hopes her child will not fault her for it. Thin, elegant legs take her away from the gathering , breath and mind and muscles clenched in resolution about what is to come.

They would be ok. It would all be ok. It has to be.
Otem the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#54
 
another mind, another soul, another body to grow old.
it's not complicated.



Otem didn't really have time to comment on the fact that as Iskra's teeth pulled an acorn-leaf from her mane, another one simply blossomed and took its place, because her youngest and only other sibling on Isopia's side (a part from her twin), had suddenly appeared next to Iskra. Otem knew who Mauna was of course, but he'd been so small when Otem had been around (and often was hungrily nursing), that the two had never really interacted. She'd just sort of been an autumn-coloured shadow lurking as his young life began to unfold. Now though it seemed like he was actually alive; he was his own little unit with thoughts and a voice and questions.

Like, where his mom was.

Cold and weighty words began to form on Otem's tongue as she tried to think of a way to answer her baby brother's questions, but Iskra chirpily answered for her. Not yet, but maybe we should have a look. Otem's smile never faltered even as her teeth clenched together. Because Iskra had sidled up quite close to her, it made it all too easily to subtly shift her weight and aim an inconspicuous kick towards his hind leg, a gesture she hoped would accurately capture her thoughts of, what the actual fuck did you just say.

"Hey Mauna. You've already grown so much!" Otem answered instantly, speaking just a bit too loud incase Iskra decided to yelp with pain. "I'm glad you made it through okay. How do you feel? Did the Rift do anything weird to you?"

art by Chloe!



@Iskra @Mauna

You may always use magic/force on/against Otem.
Iskra
Currently championing: Caevoc
#55
A rough, boyish laugh quipped from Iskra as his nephew returned the playful rhyme and fired out his own endearing nip. Iskra thought to lounge a wing affectionately, protectively, across the lad's back. He remembered the sparks which had once been harmless now jolted, and the smell which did much the same, and so he settled for fluffing his wings and repositioning them at his side instead while Mauna eagerly introduced himself to Otem.

Just as Iskra was about to turn his smiling face back to her, she left her own touch on him. Her hoof grazed against his rear cannon. Though it did little more than smart, the abruptness of it and the unexpected retaliation caused Iskra cry out, his body tensing as he prepared to shy away, feathers fluffing up in exaggerated size. Just as quickly he recognized the purpose, and bit down on his cry, forcing it into a garbled cough, wherein he heaved so forcefully his head sunk down and he pulled his hurt limb towards his nose for better inspection. As he lifted back upright and resettled his ears flicked back halfway, and his teal gaze slid to the edge of his view to glance sidelong at Otem.

"C'mon Mauna," Iskra proclaimed loudly and suddenly, cutting off whatever conversation he and Otem had started into. "Time to get moving, I'm afraid it can be dangerous around here, so watch your legs! Let's go find your parents." Iskra ushered at the colt with his wings and bulk, trying to physically herd him away from Otem. Her kick had been a warning of displeasure, so Iskra wasn't going to stick around for anymore and he certainly wasn't willing to risk that her mouth might wield greater damage.

{Fade to black as Iskra takes Mauna off!}

Victory is in my veins
I will not negotiate
Iskra
background texture credit to Stuart Rankin at flickr.com

@Mauna @Otem

Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
Mauna
Currently championing:
#56
 
There was something underlying there – tense, acerbic, rancorous, but in his inexperience, in his ignorance, he couldn’t quite follow the lines, the sketches, the thinly drawn veils and shrouds. His head tilted, eyes briefly narrowed, nothing too expansive, nothing too scrutinizing, just red eyes trying to absorb the frailties, the mishaps, the unspoken scripts. Hidden and tucked away were barbs and thorns, and he wanted to see them, to understand, to comprehend - before he could do much of anything but wonder and speculate (dream, fragment, ponder over how many secrets were kept amidst these eerie, eldritch corridors), Iskra was dragging him away from the roots of discoveries, from the keen, overwhelming essence of other notions, other spells taking root, taking shape. However, with his head tucked around his uncle’s wings and shoulder, the little mountain child still managed to speak to Otem, a newfound sister, with his vibrant touches of earthen wares, unsubtle excitement and jubilance (not quite lost from despair; tucked into safety and deliverance, the cruel unknown, the harsh realities, by Iskra and others). “I’m okay! Are you?” He asked her despite being pushed further and further into the reaches of elsewhere, enthusiastic smile wrapped along his childish lips, not abandoning the thought of connecting to more and more kin. On her query about the Rift doing anything weird to him, he was uncertain again (was this place the Rift?) – his brow furrowed slightly, nose wrinkled, and a reply was uttered in uncharacteristic apprehension. “I don’t think so?” He shrugged, weaving it away to the back of his mind for further exploration, like so many things in this world, then called out to her as the blue and gold boy finally managed to push him into the quiet reach of shadows, nothing more to see, nothing more to know, nothing more to learn. “I’ll see you again soon!” 
Mauna
CROWNS HAVE THEIR COMPASS-LENGTH OF DAYS THEIR DATE-
TRIUMPHS THEIR TOMB-FELICITY, HER FATE-
OF NOUGHT BUT EARTH CAN EARTH MAKE US PARTAKER,
BUT KNOWLEDGE MAKES A KING MOST LIKE HIS MAKER.

image | coding

@Iskra  @Otem
Lena
Currently championing:
#57

Lena the Songbird


They were just echoes again; more of the same paradigms, conjectures, and diatribes – discourses meant for warnings, declarations, and ill omens. She took her time, biding along the outskirts of the darkness, humming beneath her breath so anyone nearby could be tranquil, could be serene (not apprehensive, not fearful; despite all the right reasons for being so). Her eyes were drawn to the mass of forms and figures, trying to decipher who and where and how they’d all come to be – looking for particular individuals she knew, trusted, cherished, and loved – and when part of her Basin comrades still remained, the Songbird breathed a potent balm of relief. More and more blended in, until she couldn’t tell which was which any longer, and the barest traces of a smile glimmered on her lips (the hushed sedition once more, forged between so many other wars – they could, would overcome this malice just as they’d done in the past). They might be refugees now, lost to the particles of Helovia, the places, the palaces, the world they yearned and craved for – but there would be a time when they’d found a way to root, to settle in, to dig into the trenches and come out the other side. They knew how to survive. She’d do that – and help everyone else along the way.

When nothing more was said, no entities come to converse, no more proclamations uttered, she turned into the shades of darkness, intending to learn what she could about this terrifying, treacherous new villa.


Image Credits
Weaver
Currently championing:
#58

ask no questions

She keeps her mouth shut. It’s just sort of the better option for her sometimes. Not that she’s necessarily against Kaos and what he says, but she’s just so damn sick and tired of being played with in someone else’s game. How did she go about getting her own pile of power so the ‘gods’ could stop fucking with her? She wasn’t their toy, wasn’t their pawn or their puppet or their means to an end. She was her own, through and through, and the idea of being shuffled about and supposedly spared when she was never even asked has got her pissed.

So she keeps her mouth shut. There are plenty in the crowd that she recognizes, but she doesn’t make her way over to them. She watches them, keeping an eye on the horses she was supposed to protect back in Helovia. Weaver had failed then, hadn’t even had a shot, but at least she could keep an eye on them here. She’d probably fail again when Kaos decided just to smite them all, but maybe by then she’ll have managed to earn enough power to at least not be so helpless.

He commands them to go explore and learn, and she does, leaving the group behind to go listen to more commands from some god she doesn’t care about. Maybe the fairies of her childhood had been better. Wicked things, but mostly, they left Weaver alone.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens