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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
let's hear the sound of madness
RP Wanted The Portal 
Dallilja
Currently championing:
#11
'Twas a mare, the angel. Observing her as she stood up again -- her legs wobbling (I was afraid she'd fall again but luckily she did not) before balancing herself -- and rose her crowned head to the sky for water. The gleaming halo floating above her stared at me as I stared at it, and as the angel spoke it only lit up more.
"My name is Cahira. The earth… at my hooves, it gave way as I fled war, and it brought me here. M-my companions…" Companions? War? The only war I've heard of lately was yeaaaaars ago, yet of course how did I even know she was from my w-- "Those feathers, my mother had two like them. T-they were from her lover, before… before I was born, w-where did you…" --orld. Our eyes met, blue to green, and I can't take mine off her even if the green stare flickers between Shahrokh and me.

"M-my aunt Alistorie gave it to me. Before.." I paused. Wait. Who was this Cahira? Where did she come from? Who was her mother? Eyes fell to the ponytail I wore so proudly, the feather drenched by the constant pour from above. "Mom died when I was born. She told my aunts to give this to me before she went into labor.." As I told the white and red mare what my aunts had told me during the whole of the life I had with them, my voice started to tremble. I didn't remember her. They had taken her from me before my newborn eyes had even opened to see the greens and blues of the world. "Di-did you know her? Maybe our mothers knew each other - somehow."

"Talking."
ooc: #late Listen to this for extra feels because it's beautiful<3
word count: 287

inapatricia.deviantart.com

Cahira
Currently championing:
#12
and the crown it weighs heavy

The rousing, scramble of foreign epithets, faraway words on an unfamiliar tongue, she sails into an uncharted sea of relations with little more than fool’s longing, there is anticipation drenched in her skin and her gaze comes to settle tempestuous on Dallilja. There is an enigma here, a riddle, for as many eons she has wearied at the tales of her mother and their bitterly highborn descent no mention of Alistorie had clung to her memories. 

But she presses on in a terrible hope, she must find mother and tell her what happened and perhaps then they will understand this gnarled yarn of alignments, yes, mother would know, and she’d be able to explain the occurrence of the feathers too. Something listless and imperative stirs at the hind of her harrowed thoughts at the boy, something with wings and heliotrope coat and a voice like a bonfire—and then the reflection speeds away and she is left in obscurity.
“Perhaps,” she says, bewildered, “But I have never heard of your Alistorie, and would be a dreadful liar to say otherwise.” She feels vile, querying the name of her mother after the tale she has been made privy to, and her common etiquette shies away as though scorned. "What… what was your mother’s name?" And then, as if a balm, a salve to soothe any barbian ideas she may now have of her, “My mother is Delinne the Lightningborne. I am the third-born of her children, Azarel—” her voice falters, the Silverflame and Destry… her gaze veers towards the colt again, a frown heaving the rim of her maw downwards. She’s trailed away, striving, grappling at the elusive idea, slithering about beyond her reach, something about the boy...

@Dallilja @Shahrokh

'till it's banging on my eyelids

'CAUSE I'M GONNA BE FREE

AND I'M GONNA BE FINE

+
Shahrokh
Currently championing:
#13
jumping in again now that im back!!! --



The casual acceptance of my comfort is unanticipated, with the way she smells of — blood — of rust, the stench of copper singing my nostrils as I hover near her, trying to be a welcoming presence, a soothing voice in the dark as she struggles at the loss of pieces of her soul. I want to tell her that I'm sorry, that this foreign land is unspeakably cruel it seems, that it does not care who you are or what you have done - it is greedy, and all it knows how to do is take, and take. Even its false god takes, he took everything, he took Helovia, my mother, he took my home and now we are here, in this unsettling world.

She has risen, giving thanks for my words despite the wariness behind them, the uncertainty of whether everything really would be okay. I want my words to be true, to be more than empty promises of safety, to be sure that we'll make it through this, that nothing bad will come of our arrival here. But already I am wrong, from what she has lost, from what has been taken from everyone who has entered this Rift through the portal from Helovia, from other places as well - everything is not okay.

My blank eyes are shooting to empty black spaces, to the sound of her name echoing through my ears because — Cahira — I must know that name from somewhere, I have heard it before haven't I? No, perhaps not, for no memory that I dig for can ever bring up evidence of the name, of Mother in all her spitting fury mentioning the long lost bastard child, the cataclysmic birth of a Cahira who created a great divide between Mother and my grandmother. She speaks of tragedy, of loss of her companions, of her home, swallowed by the earth beneath her and spit out into a world unlike any other - she speaks of war, and I feel unease gripping my spine, raising the hairs as I remember the cries of my friends, of respected apostles and masters as they perished at the hooves of bloodthirsty bandits. That was not war, but slaughter, it had never been a fair fight to begin with, our peace and comfort destroyed at the hands of murderers, pillaged and brought to ruin. And it was not the last time I would have to witness mass death, mass destruction, for my return to Helovia brought only the same thing, the stench of hollowed corpses, sizzling with energy.

I stiffen at the mention of feathers, unable to discern whether Cahira spoke to Dallilja or to me, straining for patience, to pretend that my skin didn't itch where the feathers of my grandfather didn't rest, tucked away behind my ear as I feel my body tense, my shoulders hunch and wings close in at my sides, awkwardly hugging my body as I attempt to connect the dots. A lover from before, mother told me the story of her parents, of my grandparents, the trials of their love — I suck in a deep breath, I let myself exhale slowly as their conversation picks up, and I am left to wonder the significance of the feathers behind my ear. Mother had told me of their history, that my grandfather offered them to her dam and his children, final pieces of him in offering as he withered before their eyes. She was always so quiet and solemn when speaking of him, longing and mournful, explaining that she was never as close to him as she would have liked to have been, and alienated herself from her dam after — oh.

I tune back into the conversation to hear the name Delinne, to hear Azarel the Silverflame and Destry - to know that I have found family. A smile spreads across my lips, a falter in my words as my voice cracks, as my mind reels because here, before me, fate has offered blood. Tears are pooling at the corners of my eyes, my fear of being alone in the world is diminishing, but a plume of fading smoke as I give a sigh of relief. "I know you! I know you, Cahira. My mother - my mother is Destry. The feathers, they're my grandfather's - my mother - she - she gave them to me before I came through the portal," and then it's crumbling. The smile falls, because Mother is gone, and in my moment of relief I could have almost sworn she was still here, perhaps waiting for me just beyond the trees that surround us, that she was awaiting my arrival as I stumble upon my aunt. I remember now, the bad blood that brewed whenever Mother spoke of Delinne, of her betrayal, of the adulterous sins committed by her, the creation of Cahira. Mother may have been hesitant to forgive Delinne for such an act, only able to do so in silence, within herself, for Delinne had long since left Helovia - but she was still bitter over Cahira, over the abomination she had called her when first explaining the existence of my aunt and uncle. I will not carry on mother's grudge, her disdain for her half-blooded sister, nor for her own mother. They are family, and I am no longer as alone as I thought I was.
“talk talk talk.”
-- table by velvette --
{Image: dark1_by_schwartze-d8al7s3.png}
this is the world as i see it now,
turns out nothing is fair
Dallilja
Currently championing:
#14
Delinne the Lightningborne. A name that echoed inside my head, conversations blurred as a ringing sound started to haunt my hearing. Mom. The faint heart in my chest clenched. Oh no. No. I absolutely refused to be the one to ruin two souls by saying the mother I shared with one and the grandmother of the other died -- because of me.
Tears began to dwell and overflow the corners of my blue eyes. Reality struck me again as my nephew let out a sigh that could be mistaken for one of relief -- and spoke. "I know you! I know you, Cahira. My mother - my mother is Destry. The feathers, they're my grandfather's - my mother - she - she gave them to me before I came through the portal." There was a hint of sadness in his voice, but I couldn't focus on it at all. I had sisters. A brother. A nephew. From nothing to... this.
And... I would destroy it.

"I.." I opened my maw and the single letter was but a gasp, so I closed it again. I couldn't. Cahira's question rang in my ears. "What was your mother’s name?" The third-born... How could I ever tell her? "I.. I suppose that.." But, I had to. She was my sister"That makes me the fourth-born," the sentence floated from my lips in a whisper, staring into the giant's green gems. There didn't exist a need for me to say her name, the moniker of the lady that gave me life while her own was taken away. I never had the chance to know my sweet dam, nor had my aunts or uncles ever told me anything about her past life. They had never told me I had sisters or brothers, nothing of the sort that would've given me comfort throughout my short life. 

"Cahira, Shahrokh.. I'm so happy I found family at last." And I was. Of course, I would forever be grateful to Alistorie, Laila, Rosaria and the rest of the wonderful souls I had grown up with, yet.. These two were blood"Even if mom is gone.. I hope you can forgive me, Cah. And you, Shah, she was your grandmother afterall." Forgive me for killing mom in childbirth.

"Talking."
ooc: ;_______; @Cahira @Shahrokh
word count: 377
inapatricia.deviantart.com

Cahira
Currently championing:
#15
and the crown it weighs heavy

There is a schism, a softening in his face as Cahira watches him, watery proclamations overflowing into a vivid exuberance as bright as the sun, and for a moment all of her staggered thoughts capsize into recollection and she sees him, knows why his pinions and rapiers remind her of a peculiar pair, he carries the likeness of her bleary impression inside her head and oh, how she ought to have seen at once… But he quavers and dissolves like the warmth in her limbs as Dallilja speaks and though she longs to contradict, to inform this youth her mother is well and alive, even though she is in Azarel’s clutches, how she’s wrong. She’s wrong because mother isn’t dead, she couldn’t be dead, and even as she scrutinizes them (weak-kneed) Cahira knows Dallilja isn’t the one unsound, she is. Her heart threatens to drown, she sinks into an abyss as devouring as the shades around them and her lungs writhe for air, and then she’s splintering, too. “But… she was alive," her tone beseeches and for a mere moment she feels unreasonably bitter, at Delinne, at her mother for leaving her like this, then she slumps with faint-hearted resignation and her cheeks smolder with shame at the idea. The lavaliere of sapphire around her crown feels like iron, worn into her skin where it brushes the bridge of her nose, and she swallows.

She swears to herself she won’t weep, and then she violates her word when the girl, her sibling, seeks mercy. “What must you be forgiven for? Peace. You will find no malice with me," Cahira replies, and though her voice never falters, it is plainly damp, “But if I must suffer this loss, I will learn to love you as well," and she says this as a oath, a insurance of her care. Maneuvering with leaden hooves towards her nephew, she smiles, though it is feeble and sallow she tries and finds she means it, and murmurs gently, “Shahrokh.” The moniker Dallilja has given, she fancies it is his name, “You remind me of her. Your mother, I ought to have known.” She has many things to say, how she wishes she knew Destry better, where she is, though the anguish she saw in his face the moment he spoke of the portal, the snarling rip in time bridles her tongue. "What happened?"

@Dallilja @Shahrokh

'till it's banging on my eyelids

'CAUSE I'M GONNA BE FREE

AND I'M GONNA BE FINE

+
Dallilja
Currently championing:
#16
She was alive. Blue eyes filled with sadness as the white angel swallowed. A small sapphire hanging from the spiraled horn upon her brow intrigued me, flashing a pair of ocean pools in my mind. 

Long lost memory of cold, wide-open eyes staring into nothing as I was pushed away by the aunts and uncles I've grown up with pierced my thoughts, though with a shake of my head the image disappeared right as Cahira eased my sadness with soothing words. I smiled as she promised to learn to love me, feeling my heart grow three times in size. 
She moved closer to Shahrokh and I stared at the blood splashed across her, my maw hovering near her alabaster skin as she spoke to the boy -- our nephew --, telling him that he reminded her of this Destry. Looking over at him, I saw only lightning struck across his skin, piercing the darkness of it. I felt like an outsider, not knowing who his mother is and not to say the least, our own mother. When he said nothing to her, I chimed in.

"Sister.." Oh, it felt good saying that word, "We can catch up on everything another day. This new world.. Let’s explore it together." A smile across my maw appeared and I bumped her bloodied shoulder gently. Time to see what the Rift had to offer.

"Talking."
ooc: sorry for skipping, but we just want this archived now<333333333333
word count: 229
inapatricia.deviantart.com