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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
» every broken promise
Open Scint River 
Iona
Currently championing:
#31

I O N A

Iona had been less than social since her arrival to the Rift.  Shocking, considering the nearly 11 year old mare was in a body that more closely resembled a yearling at the present moment.  She was, blessedly, re-aging at a much more advanced pace than she had the first go-round but she was still less than thrilled about her current state of affairs.  She’d spent more than a few days lurking around the Rift wearing the cloak that rendered her invisible, lest she run into someone she know and have to explain this.

However, after some well-deserved self pity, Iona had shed her disguise and was once again unafraid to be social. That and she’d heard that Kaos hadn’t been quiet since they’d come. Iona would be damned before she let that bastard continue lurking around this place without knowing what’s going on.  She may not have entire kingdom to watch over here, but she had an ever expanding family to keep tabs on.  To keep safe.  

The biggest obstacle she had right now was her wings.  She’d not yet regained her ability to fly which was doubly contributing to her foul mood.  She’d left most of her armor back in the familiar forests of Solanis but kept her protective headpiece with her. Just in case. She wasn’t going to leave her mind unprotected in a place like this.  The yearling-Iona made her way into the gathering without preamble.  She narrowed her eyes at the form of Kaos below, watching as he busied himself with something.   “Anyone know what the fuck he’s doing?” she asked no one in particular as she turned away from Kaos and towards the gathered Helovians and company.


image credit


Please tag IONA in all posts.
Force and magic permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
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Naerys
Currently championing:
#32
NAERYS
Naerys had been ignoring the changes in the Rift like a petulant child. Fighting against the pull towards various locations until the urge disappeared so that she could happily continue on her way. She'd had no business being there anyway, no business attending to the one that placed her here instead of outright killing her. Maybe, instead of simply blocking her mother's way in Helovia she should have followed her father - not to save him, no, but to join him. Maybe then Kisamoa would have taken her, too. But that required a fair amount of trust and belief that Iona would stop Alysanne from doing the same thing, or that her mother wouldn't follow her to certain death. Yet, it's fair to say that Naerys didn't have it in her to forfeit her life like that.

She wasn't that brave.
She wasn't that careless.

For the third time since her arrival, she felt compelled to move. The exact location isn't clear, she has no name for it only a general direction: East. For the first time since her arrival, though, she gives in to the compulsion and follows it. This time, though, she can't rely on her mother to watch Alerie. Surely she'd allowed that too much already, though Alysanne wouldn't be likely to speak up. With the dark brown filly glued to her hip, she is suddenly grounded and her pace is slowed almost as dramatically as it had been mere weeks ago when she'd been heavily pregnant. Naerys, so used to traveling unhindered by small helpless creatures, finds it difficult to avoid shove the girl along, or push her pace in ways that no mother would. Despite her annoyance, never does the thought of abandonment ever cross her mind. Naerys does care for the young filly, it just isn't that simple.

With a pace that feels barely above a glacier, the mother daughter duo finally arrive at the gathering crowd near a river she'd never seen before. He is there, of course, doing more strange, secretive things. Things that leave the air thick with magic. For a moment, Naerys hesitates - stopping abruptly enough that Alerie nearly collides with her. Naerys longs for the information, longs for some semblance of the life she had before, some sense of freedom but bringing her nearly newborn filly here - around him - felt wrong. It felt dangerous. Had it not been for Iona's loud, rather blunt mouth - Naerys might have turned tail and taken Alerie far away from Kaos or Kisamoa or whatever the fuck he wanted to be called these days. As it so happens, however, her teal eyes find Iona amongst the crowd. Quietly, unceremoniously she slides in beside her aunt with her gaze warily trained on the reason they were all here.

which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy,
or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?
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Stands next to @Iona and eyeballs Kisamoa but keeps her mouth shut.
IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN AN UNQUENCHABLE FLAME
{Image: icon_naerys_by_nikkayla.gif}

permission for all except death and dismemberment
** please tag naerys in replies **
Ki'irha
Currently championing:
#33




She dances over the landscape, moving wildly and without care. She is broken, but she is free. She is deaf, yet she still feels. She is unsure when this feeling of loss will fall away, but for now she attempts to learn from it and live with it. The rain has finally stopped falling, and she relishes the moment, happy to feel dry air take the place of the heavy wetness that had seeped into her fur. She has searched high and low for her daughter, praying that she had made it through the portal. Her heart had ached every moment since they had been thrust into this new land that she wasn’t reunited with her daughter. She had parted ways with Mesec, and though she wanted him by her side once more, there was something that overtook her. The bond between mother and child was a hard one to ignore.

But there was still much for her and Mesec to discuss. Mesec had sired more children. Though Ki’irha felt ridiculous thinking that she would have been the only mare to join with him, she was still somehow hurt. Especially with how she has finally defined the warmth within her as love, it just makes the sting that much deeper.

Nothing is ever left to stagnate in the rift. Yet again, she arrives at the right place, not a minute late, and she slows her pace as she approaches the bodies gathered along the bank of the river. She watches attentively as Kisamoa moves with purpose, always staying just out of reach of the current, and he lines the banks with macabre torches. Eyes follow his movements, and silver gaze notices how many have joined her to watch the incoming unknown. She recognizes few faces, but eyes freeze upon one. Her entire body stiffens, her ears press forward, her brows furrow. Tears well within her eyes, and even though the vision of the girl grows blurry within her swimming vision, she knows.

“Vesper,” she breathes, stepping forward, slowly at first, until she is running. She is there quickly, no mind paid to those who may stand close by, and she throws her neck around her daughters, pushing close to her. “Oh Vesper, my beautiful girl. I’ve been looking for you. I wasn’t sure if you had made it.” She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing in her daughter’s scent, releasing her first sigh of relief since entering this place. Slowly the starlit woman pulls away, steps back a single step, and looks down at the girl. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner.” She reaches forward again, if the girl would let her, to plant a single gentle kiss right below her horn. Though her world is quiet, inside she is painted in vivid colors and warm light. “I cannot hear, so I am sorry if we cannot discuss all that needs to be said.”

Eyes drop to the young girls who stand beside Vesper, and a smile touches upon her lips. Like dawn and dusk, they stand together beside their starstruck sister, like perfect book ends. Perhaps these are the other children Mesec had brought to this world. It is bittersweet, seeing those who she can only assume sprang from his union with another, yet she finds joy knowing that he will not feel the loss of losing a child. Like we lost Virga.

She turns her eyes away then, finally able to break her gaze upon her family, and looks back to the river. It pulses, rises, churns, and appears to grow angrier. She stays away from the water, not needing a warning to know it wasn’t a good idea to step within the ripping tides. Shifting her body absentmindedly closer to her daughter, she waits with the rest, knowing that she was finally here, and nothing could tear her away again.

How rare and beautiful it is that we even exist

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@Vesper Sorry it's not the best
Zahra
Currently championing:
#34
Zahra & Ilham
It was pride that turned angels into devils
There was an epidemic of children running wild through the Rift. No sooner had the first appeared in the slick of sticky mud by Zahra’s feathered flank, than another arrived to stand in their company, well, the golden babe’s at least. That twinge of bitter hurt had more or less waned within her, and a feeling more contented was beginning to rise in its place; perhaps kids were not all obnoxious. Anyway, her golden gaze softened as the newest caressed her sibling on the withers, and when addressed, she introduced herself with more tenderness to her tone then expected, "I’m Zahra."

Even as the silvery-eyed hybrid assumed focus on Kisamoa, another body descended upon them in a rather glamorous flurry of snowy-white ringlets, and the watching pegasus was immediately taken by surprise; of all the encounters she’d had along the way, none yet held any historical relevance in her life (except perhaps Eleos). But this woman, as perfectly painted as the clearest Tallsun night, was a face she remembered from the brief stint spent in Ashamin’s home. 

Ashamin! That was a name she both cherished and missed.

Ashen lashes peeled away from her gaze, and lips too parted before the pretty horned mare had even finished speaking; when she did, however, an enormously dissatisfied disappointment twisted through Zahra’s stomach and molars bit down hard against the eager, ready tongue. She can’t hear?… grim thoughts hummed, searching for her bonded’s pearly wisdom for comfort. What made it all the worse, was that the second the reunion had been done, the starry-coated Basiner turned away towards the hideous God, and all without a single glance spared her way. 

Everything was so different now, everyone, since the end of the world that they’d known, and the golden-bellied mare wasn’t sure yet that it was for the better. With a heavily preoccupied sigh and long, filthy, fawn-tail hairs licking across two smoky hocks, she too set her focus back onto Kisamoa - or that prettier wall of blackness that loomed on in the distance behind Him. 
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@Vesper @Ki'irha @Noella  @Saverakinda)
Volterra
Currently championing:
#35


V O L T E R R A
HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES
I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON"

His attention is snatched by Otem as she addresses him directly. She flares her wings to display dapples that glow and dance against her earth-hued fur, and Volterra's eyes follow each subtle pulse with evident interest. "Beautiful," he rumbles, although truthfully he sees little use in magic that does not serve a purpose offensively. The glowing dapples certainly add to his daughter's already natural beauty, however - with a wry smile he wonders how long it will be before he's glaring menacingly at the legions of amorous colts that will surely pursue her. "How did you get those?" So far, he's not known the Rift bestow anything pleasant on anyone - his black, acidic saliva and corrupted golems are testament to that.

Varuna submits to his urgings, and he's grateful for this fact as he nudges the boy safely away from the bonelights. As much as he wishes he could stomp across every last one simply to spite the false God that took so much from him, he knows he must resist the urge. It's hard, as impulse control has never been Volterra's strong suit, but the faces of his children swim before his eyes each time he even contemplates giving into temptation.

Seeing the glimmer of shed tears on the colt's face, the Indomitable unleashes a heavy sigh and tries to coil his neck reassuringly against the boy's sparrowlike little body. There is a certain irony to the fact that Volterra, who once shunned the responsibilities of fatherhood like the plague, has suddenly found himself acting as both father and mother to most of his offspring. He is not so good at the latter, as he's never been the best at offering comfort or reassurance - he prefers stern words and inspirational speeches, but he's doing his level best to fufill the roles he's been set. Just another thing Kaos foisted upon him when he took the lives of so many in Helovia.

image credits


@Otem @Varuna

Vulkán
Currently championing:
#36


The voice of another colt draws his attention, and the young volcano turns to observe the newcomer. "That is an interesting concept, however I cannot help but wonder if it is a particularly logical idea. Given the amount of people Kaos killed in Helovia, I believe she would be creating so many enemies by helping him that it would outweigh any help that he could give her." He speaks matter-of-factly in his usual undeviating monotone. It all comes down to numbers, really. The fact they're both stood right by Kiada means that she can probably hear everything he's saying, too. "It is simple mathmatics, really. For example, the murder of just one person - my mother - ensures that I, my sister, my father, my half-brother, and countless more friends and relatives are automatically predisposed to dislike anybody who helps her killer." And that's just one person - Kaos killed countless more.

Another filly approaches, and the yearling's eidetic memory immediately casts itself back to the day Otem found her companion. Those were the days before he knew what it is like to lose somebody, even if his emotionless self finds it hard to really appreciate the depth of his grief.

Then, it's the original filly's turn to speak. She immediately confirms the pegasus colt's hypothesis, that she desires favour from Kaos, and she adds that she helped him in Helovia as well. Vulkán tilts his head curiously at her, scrutinising her as if she is a zoo exhibit. If only he was more normal, then he could react with anger at the idea that she is siding with the God who killed Isopia. If only he could fully appreciate emotion, then he could rage against her as his father would want him to do, instead of standing here blankly thinking he should feel something rather than actually feeling it. "So you freely admit that he killed some of your best friends, but you still wish to help him?" There's no judgement in the colt's tone - there's never anything in his tone.

"That does not strike me as a particularly logical way to survive. I would surmise that if Kaos is willing to kill your best friends despite your devotion to him, then relying on him is not a viable strategy. You stand to make enough enemies to be able to destroy you in a second, purely in the hope that a God with a track record of deceit will help you." He glances around at the small crowd around him, keen to hear their input too. As usual, he's unaware that his words may cause offense or outrage - he lives under the false pretense that everybody sees things in cold, logical sense like he does.

image: naia-art


Speaks to @Iskra and @Kiada but is within earshot of @"Zekle" , @Erebos @Mauna and @Melita too

Clementine
Currently championing:
#37
C L E M E N T I N E
"Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
with tangerine trees and marmalade skies."

Clementine had struggled with the adjustment to this place.  Melancholy rode heavily on her shoulders even as she tried to fight away the dark clouds. She knew there had to be sunshine somewhere.  But with every passing day, the rain fell.  Both literally and metaphorically.  The flower child soon began to understand that this was a world where she’d have to make her own sunshine.  

She was finding that was easier said than done. The absence of her mother left a tangible hole in her heart.  Clem felt as if she could feel her mother’s absence some days, a gaping open wound.  But Melita was her saving grace. They’d keep each other safe. Whole. That faith was keeping Clementine going.  With a small huff, the flower-girl pulled herself from the shadows, steeling herself for another confrontation with the unknown.  She wasn’t brave by nature but she wasn’t afraid, either.  Spotting Melita and Iskra, some of the heaviness lifted from her heart - the physical reminder that she wasn’t alone here helped lift her spirits.  The girl wove through the others to stand closer to them, the smallest of smiles blossoming on her lips as she made her way over.  Prudence let out a series of chirps from her nest between my ears, nestled safely in my crown of flowers.

Clementine brushed her muzzle over Melita’s neck - a near automatic gesture when she stepped alongside her sister now - but recoiled when she met something sticky. Clem discretely wiped her nose on her foreleg, alarmed to see the black residue left there.  “Melita, you’re leaking,” Clem whisper-yelled, urgently, immediately both concerned and confused by this development.  She looked at Iskra in a panic, wondering if he’d noticed, before looking back at her sister - shifting from foot to foot uneasily.  

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@Melita
@Iskra

Please tag Clementine in every post.
Force and magic are permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
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Patrick
Currently championing: Caevoc
#38
P A T R I C K
After diving through the portal the young man stumbled about, lost and disoriented, for a time that felt like it could have been days but was probably only hours. In that time he saw no one he knows. He encountered no equines at all, just a strange and pesky animal... but that is another story. Today he is steady on his feet and does not appear lost though he has never been in this place before. He holds his head high, careful not to dislodge the string of little glittering diamonds draped over his neck. He has always displayed certain hints of jealousy when witnessing the use magic and yet it was his own lack of such power that allowed passage to this place with a relatively low price. All he lost was his small tie to the God of the Sun, at least that is all he knows he has lost. Hopefully, he will make good use of the blissful ignorant time remaining to him. It can not last long before he meets someone who knows him and who also knows what became of his family. That will be a sad day for Patrick...

He stumbles out of the ghost wood surrounding the portal and wanders north-east to come out up on a flat, desert like landscape. His strides gain a lively bounce as he steps upon this terrain and why shouldn't they? Given where he was born, this is probably starting to feel like home to him. Being desert born he is ever watchful in the wide open expanse but nothing happens upon him this day. Instead, he comes to a point from which he can hear a commotion up ahead. The corner of his mouth tugs upward at that, here is another familiar thing. Reaching a gully full of mist he pauses. The sound of crashing water echoes up from below and with it comes the din of many voices. Nodding to himself he picks his way cautiously down the slope.

On the banks of the river a crowd has gathered, a typically cantankerous and generally noisy crowd of the sort that would frequently gather back in Helovia. Yes, despite the shadow and alien darkness this place does have it's small hints of home. At the center of this audience is a tall being the shape of which is proving difficult to pin down. It looms huge upon waters themselves stretching upwards from the center of a collection of bone lights which cast an eerie teal glow over the beings already creepy appearance. Patrick has encountered Kisamoa before, as have they all no doubt. This creature presents no similarities to the Kisamoa of then, however, and so the blue eyes of the young, sandy coated stallion drift over Kaos with a certain clinical curiosity but no hint of recognition.

Soon enough his attention drifts to the surrounding crowd of his fellow equines. Patrick stands at the back of the pack on a slightly raised bit of ground where he can see them all. His gaze travels slowly, catching here and there a figure that must be passing familiar if not well known. There is the blue feathered boy (Iskra), a small brown Pegasus (Melita), a shining butterfly (Clementine), and a large hard-to-miss figure with a white masked face and blood red eyes. He watches Volterra for a short time and if the former Sultan happens to glance his way he will see the long, spiraled horn dip to touch the ground in a gesture of respect. None of these four are enough to bring him deeper into the crowd though. Only one could do that right now.

So many children. Then again, there always were especially in Dragons Throat so I shouldn't be surprised. No, it is not the number that is getting to me really. It is the fact that I have realized, with a wrenching feeling of loss, that I am no longer truly one of them. This moment of clarity draws a long, tired sigh from my lips. Koh too is no longer a child and so, looking among the children for her as I always have before is, of course, the wrong approach. I let my eyes drift to the older forms, acknowledging Volterra in silent respect and moving on over the group with hopes continuing to fade as they come to each face that I do not recognize.

A second sigh leaves him as his eyes complete their roving with no luck. Of course, the rest of the group is likely to involved in their own loud conversations to hear or to even notice the otherwise silent observer standing at outside edge of their growing force. His ears swivel about catching a word here or there but finding nothing interesting enough to make him charge into a conversation as he might once have done. Instead, he remains silent and watchful, lying in wait for whatever is coming next.

will you help me
find myself?
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Patrick Notices: @Iskra, @Melita, @Clementine & @Volterra (offers a "bow" to him)
Interactions: none yet
Mbwana
Currently championing:
#39

After what happened last time, Mbwana is slightly more wary about attending this event. Those spirits from the last incident still haunt his nightmares, swarming around him like flies around a dying beast, plaguing and tormenting his every sleeping hour. Whenever he wakes in a cold sweat, he finds that his black markings have leaked into shapes across his sides, an unpleasant little side effect of the ghosts that attacked him.

Still, he cannot resist. He has Askari by his side, loyal hound at his heels, and that gives him the confidence to enter the crowd in his colt form instead of giving into the urge to arrive as a canine. Things are easier when he's a dog - people leave him alone, leave him to the machinations inside his head instead of attempting to talk to him. It is an act of bravery on his part to ignore these temptations and move forwards as a horse, a colt who is already brawny and gangly despite his tender age.

Askari stays close, always keeping respectfully behind him. The pup has grown since entering the Rift and is now almost an adult size, although his maturity leaves a lot to be desired. He and Mbwana lurk near the outskirts, hoping that their menacing glares will persuade people to stay well away.



cool quote of a few words goes here

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He's standing grumpily but plz someone talk to him :D
Zubari
Currently championing:
#40

He has been alone most of the time. The portal was not a pleasant experience for the boy and his sister. It just goes to show that not all family is worth keeping around. His heart bittered even more that what it already was. Golden eyes narrowed upon a dense bush that held a dozen glowing eyes. Lashing out powerful rear legs he nailed the thick trunk. Odd creatures scattered from their hiding hole. Some glowed others did not. With a massive snort, Zubari trotted off into the dense woods. Fuck this, fuck his family. Somedays he wished they would all die. Except for Katua. Mother was gone, father might as well be dead. Oh, let's not forget about the worthless brothers and sisters. A heaver snort came from his maw as she galloped. His large agile body moved from in and out of each tree until...

Large hooves went sliding down a moss like a hill. Rear legs dug into the soft ground as he body slammed into a halt. There were small glowing flowers placed in a path. Golden eyes looked around until he saw Kaos. A soft smile fell on his maw. The god stood in front of them. He told them not to cross the water, do not touch the bone lights. The mahogany boy shook his head softly and looked at the necklace around his neck. This was the first real gift he had ever gotten. Zubari treasured the Kaos necklace like it was made from gold. A smirk fell on his maw as he moved closer to the crowd. A painted woman speaks up. She was apart of his herd in Helovia. Familiar faces are always nice to see. He halts at her side with a soft smile. His shoulders and heavy frame grew every day. Kuuma silently rode on his back. His smile falters thinking about his companion. He hoped she would be better soon. "I am sure we will find out what Kaos has in store very soon." Bright teal eyes look over to the girl? Zubari looked for a moment. He could swear she was an adult in Helovia. Maybe Iona had a child? Trying not to stare too much Zubari looked back to Kaos. Golden spikes started to point through some black spots on his skin.

"Talk"

@Iona
Zubari
I am the Violence in the pouring rain.
I'm a Hurricane

image & codingLyrics
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