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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
» every broken promise
Open Scint River 
Kisamoa
Currently championing:
#1
YOU WERE STITCHING UP THE SEAMS
ON EVERY MANGLED PROMISE THAT YOUR BODY COULDN'T KEEP


It had gathered in the East for a few days now, the scent of power, a metallic taste in the back of your mouth—something was happening over there, but whatever it was, it was slow. It took its time. The shadowy wall blocking the Eastern Flats from the unveiled parts of the Rift looked just the same as any other, smelled the same, sounded the same.

But slowly, it had begun to change. That smell of magic, unbound and raw, the feeling of it crawling over your skin as you went a little too close to the wall of nothing, only to realize.. it wasn't in the same place, or it wasn't as thick, because with each passing day, you had been able to discern more and more. The Rainforest Cliffs tapered out into what seemed a mossy slope, and then there was the hint of a ridge on the other side—a valley.

And with the thinning of the veil along the Scint had come the whispers.

They were very faint at first, barely audible, something you noticed only when you moved away and they grew silent. Whatever force held the East in its forgotten, hidden state was weakening. Perhaps it would yield soon. Perhaps it had you waiting by its border, too curious to leave, or perhaps you only checked in on occasion, to see if anything had changed.

So perhaps you were that day when it did not rain, and perhaps you weren't.

He was, though—a tall creature made of shadow and shifting parts, a mind ever-spinning, a heart with four chambers and none of them originated in the same body. He waited patiently, even though his body did not. It churned and morphed, never quite the same as the second before, but the beast within was still and silent. He answered no questions, and he returned no looks, but it was obvious that he was up to something, for he carried things with him. They were half-hidden in a fold of magic and flesh.

Then, with a hush, the whispers grew louder, and the black veil pulled back. Yard by yard it revealed a mist-shrouded valley, with a placid river running down its center; it came from somewhere far to the north, lost to a gray horizon, and kept going far to the south, likely ending in the Southern Seas.

Kisamoa's head rose higher, and on the tail of the retreating shadows he strode forward. The river came closer and closer as his legs swallowed the distance with improbable speed, until he finally stood upon its banks. The veil crept beyond the ridge on the other side, then hung there. He scowled at it for a moment before turning to any mortals who might linger near him, and when he spoke, his voice echoed the length of the river. These people were strangers. They did not know the dangers of the Scint. "Do not step into the river," he warned them, his unnatural voice too loud. When he spoke again, it only carried to those nearest. "And do not knock over the bonelights."

And with his warning delivered, he pulled the first of the strange objects from where he carried it half-fused to his own body, and set it in the soft bank. It was a bone, free of all flesh and sinew and cartilage, unmarked in every way, and at its tip sat a Solar Flower, casting both light and warmth.

Kisamoa stepped into the river, and placed another of the bonelights, and another, and another, in a seemingly haphazard pattern covering both the shores and the river. It was not a circle, it was not a star, it was not anything in particular, yet he seemed to know exactly where to put them. And with every bonelight pressed into the earth, the scent of power grew stronger, the wind more cutting, until he drove the last light into the ground and stood within a small storm. It reeked of magic, a surge in the atmosphere that was likely felt far, far away.

The river began to run stronger. Faster. Deeper. The whispers rose to cries, wordless whimpers, shrieks; the teal lights in his eyes pulsed as he inhaled.

This was it. He scanned the mossy, windwracked slopes, to see who had come—to see if he, the root of all this, had come.
beauty in darkness
kaos in light

Rounds will be variable in length, but likely 3-5 days each!
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
Crowley
Currently championing:
#2
He walks with remarkably care towards the east, leaving the Portal behind him and with it, his petulant, vacuous son. What the boy is left with after their encounter, he cares not; Abigor could have died beneath his hooves for all he cared, a crumpled mess lying in his own lifeblood. Perhaps doing so would’ve been a favor to the boy, to spare him the pain that life so often burdened its inhabitants with, a pain that the brindle had once been so very familiar with. But now, the walls of his mind have been fortified, standing tall and strong against all it has endured. What lies ahead, both physically and metaphorically, he doesn’t know, but cloven hooves trudge fearlessly onward.

Standing atop his rump is the young caracal that the brindle has reverently dubbed Freya after his mother, but if one should ask, he would never dare to tell. Already Crowley is much more fond of the kit than Talbot; she’s brave, if not a bit reckless in her ventures that have thus been short and rather uneventful. Once she surpasses adolescence, he can only imagine the things she might be capable of, even if it won’t be for quite some time yet. She’s fascinated by her own mobility and continues to struggle putting her feet in the right place at times, but what captures the young feline’s curiosity even more is just how fast she seems to be able to go and everything she can see when standing atop him, so long as his movement is precise, calculated and, admittedly, a bit slower than he would like to go.

But that’s alright – he already loves the feline so.

Up ahead, the darkness grows thicker than he’s seen yet. He slows in his pace and looks on through narrowed eyes, straining to see what’s up ahead and listen to the faint whispers that mesh with the ones that have followed him for years, though he fails to decipher them. Unafraid he may be, but Crowley isn’t a fool to think that there are no stronger beings than himself, that he’s somehow impervious to harm. For a moment it seems that he’s alone until he steps boldly further, and that’s when he catches his eye; the one responsible for everything that had happened, the murderer of families, the destroyer of homes, the squanderer of hope.

But Crowley has none of those things, not anymore, and so he does not judge.

Silently he watches the ever-changing deity, or demon, whatever he was truly meant to be stride forward, seemingly chasing away the perpetual shadows that clung to the land with an iron fist. The brindle steps slowly after him at first, golden eyes wide with bewilderment at the sight he’s just beheld. With a shake of his head he breaks the trance and quickens his pace, trailing behind the God at a distance. He stops and speaks a warning to he and any who might have followed after him, but Crowley’s attention is solely on that of the God and the tasks he seems so intent on carrying out.

Coming to a halt at the edge of the river bank, Crowley lowers his head to inspect the lighted bones closer, cautious not to draw any nearer and mindful the location of the bones. He’s tasted the power of a God once before, and he cares not to again. Freya comes bumbling down the length of his back and intends to halt at his withers, but the clumsy kitten instead falls halfway down his neck. She barely manages to catch herself in a tangle of his mane, but by then the stallion is stepping back, assuring that she doesn’t go tumbling into the river to suffer unknown consequences.

Lifting his gaze to meet and hold that of the God’s, if he allows such an opportunity, Crowley speaks the burning curiosity nagging in the back of his mind, and surely those around them as well.

“… And what happens if we do?”

"Speech"

Crowley & Talbot
oh lord won’t you save me
save me from myself
oh lord won’t you forgive me
for I have lost control

Varuna
Currently championing:
#3
VARUNA
Your growing bravery takes you farther than you've ever adventured. A few days ago, you found yourself at the edge of the rainforest. You adjourned yourself from the labyrinth of tress to find a thick veil of shadow impeding your venture onward. It breathed like smoke, wispy and receding, and you decided on sticking around to investigate. 

The curiosity of a babe knows no bounds, and you are still brand new. Something about the wall has snagged your impressionable mind; it tugs at your bones like puppet strings, marionetting you closer and keeping you near because like instinct you know something magical is happening. You taste it in the air like salt on a sea breeze—bitter and pungent and heavy—and it is leavened with notes of caution. You hear mother's voice: Take heed, child; and are reminded of a time when you were chased from your birthland by a similar shade... 

There are monsters in the shadows.

You soon realize it's not your mother's voice you hear, but a choir; disembodied and strange. It tickles your ears and disrupts your rest. You lift your head and blink the sleep from your mismatched eyes, noticing that others have gathered... to see him

You remember. The shifting shadow parts of his chimera body have often visited your dreams. You doubt you'll ever forget it, nor the day the sun went out and you were dumped out of the sky into this place of neverending rain. It stands tall and silent, shadows like snakes writhing about it, seemingly more alive than the creature they shroud. You're not sure why, but you hate it. Where did it take your mother? Your ears pin to your nape. Do not knock over the bonelights.

…And what happens if we do?

Tears claw at the back of your eyes and you bare your teeth, white flashing between black lips like lightning splitting a dark sky. Bright rage coils in your chest, a tight and white-hot knot. It boils til the floodgates fling open, and, knowing better but not caring (you are brave!) you charge toward one of the "bonelights" the ominous voice told you not to knock over and try to do exactly that. In a desperate tantrum you reach down and try to yank it from the ground with your teeth, thrashing your head like a dog playing tug-of-war.

Take that, scary dark shadow thing!
Dear Varuna, you should learn more about the world before you go and get yourself killed.

and calm your heart,
the dark is still the dark
image || coding
Otem the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#4
otem
You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold

"Don't" Otem's voice was a squeal as she burst through a bush and towards Varuna.

Anywhere Kisamoa was going to be, Otem vowed to be there too. She had sworn off the Helovian Gods for what they had done to her mother, but Kaos was a different story altogether. He was a different entity all together, and not even just one entity. He was so much more, and because he was so much more, Otem was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He'd only lied once after all, and there were always instances were lie telling was deemed appropriate, right? Otem had lied plenty and her life had barely just begun, so who was she to judge? People in glass houses and all that.

Besides, he'd given her gifts. He'd made her feel (or rather, she let herself feel) special in this world where nothing of who she was or what she had mattered. Sure her earth spirits now occasionally vomited silent clouds of black smoke, but didn't Kisamoa also sort of do that? Was this not also some sort of gift? Just because she didn't understand it, didn't make it any less of a prize.

"He told us not to touch his pet, and then it ate some people. He told us to go into the portal or else, and look what happened. You really want to keep testing him?" Although Otem was still growing, she was already quite tall. She angled her slender body towards the hybrid boy. Briefly her mind wondered if this was one of her many Volterra-created siblings, but decided that didn't matter. Brother or not, she was still going to stop him. Her shoulder aimed for Varuna's, while an earth sprite appeared behind Otem moving to hover menacingly in front of one of the Bonelights like a ghostly gargoyle. The sprite opened its mouth and black smog poured out, falling towards the river and the glowing flower.

"DON'T. YOU'LL RUIN IT." Otem concluded plaintively, despite the fact that she didn't know what it was. All she knew was the once upon a time Kisamoa had said he wouldn't lie to them again, and in her naive heart, she believed it.


Image Credits


Otem tries to knock into Varuna to make him stop fucking with the bonelights :| she puts an earth sprite to stand guard.

You may always use magic/force on/against Otem.
Varuna
Currently championing:
#5
VARUNA

Don't!

Your (unbeknownst) sister's shrill command is enough to make you falter. A tremor races through your body as you jerk your head toward her, ears pinned. You have half a mind to stick your tongue at her and do it anyway, more determined now that another has forbade you to do it, but you don't have the chance. 

Like a scolded child, you twist your lips into a pout and furrow your brow in quiet condescension. She bullies her shoulder toward you and you crane your neck into a battering ram, rearing up as you try to butt your head into the muscle. Why is she defending him?! If he let his pet eat people and forced them all into this strange, dark, wet place, why shouldn't you sabotage whatever it is he's trying to do? You growls in frustration, feeling small and powerless. You glance back to the skeletal lamp-thing and find a sprite guarding it. Once again tears burn behind your eyes.

"How do you know he won't just eat us anyway!" You shout in protest, flaring your wings in desperate emphasis. You don't fully understand the concept of death, yet, but you understand the whole eating thing.

All you can think about is that you want mother, and the desperation builds inside of you with a vengeance. You are angry at the mare for yelling at you! She must not know what it's like to lose your mom... A lump forms in your throat and you try to swallow it down, grimacing. The tears come anyway, hot and angry. Deep inside of you your magic stirs, dormant until now. It reaches out toward the winged filly, hungry.

Mismatched eyes bore holes into her, burning with misplaced hatred. You feel hot, as the magic reaches out to leach the moisture from her skin, your teeth grinding together. You are completely oblivious to the power you wield but it awakens anyway...

and calm your heart,
the dark is still the dark
image || coding


@Otem I hope it's okay to post again?? someone please tell me if it's not. I just thought it was appropriate to reply to Otem's post immediately please kick me otherwise
Zahra
Currently championing:
#6
Zahra & Ilham
It was pride that turned angels into devils
The rain had ceased for the first time in many weeks (though perhaps it had eased once or twice, she wondered if it had ever really, truly stopped). Bold, bleak clouds still clung with tireless vigour to the otherwise vast openness overhead, though they seemed ready to purge again, pregnant, always filled to the brim with more bitter rain and Zahra glanced by them broodingly, curious, for the mood in this strange world had shifted in recent days. She and Eleos had returned to the rainforest after a long stint spent adrift in the west, and though the young winged mare couldn’t explain the inner yearning she felt - it grew, and the magic within her churned restlessly - a quiet hum still further east, whispers that perhaps had been, pulled her yet closer. 

Lured her unquiet mind, like a moth to the flame. 

After a while, the trees began to thin and she paused for a moment to regard a quiet notion, to pass comment that felt absurd, "I'm sure this part was thicker before…" Ilham too, agreed, for the last time they’d strolled through this leg of the otherworldly ancient forest, trees had gathered in tight cluster, and provided almost no route through; now, however, pale amber eyes observe the wall of smog beyond, thick black - though thinning - and ears flicker atop an ever evolving feeling of uncertainty. 

The hair along her spine prickled wildly, madly, as though fingered by a force she couldn’t pin. The writhe of energy within her too was pinging, jarring through the network of gold-infused veins. 

It was exciting, and Zahra bent most willingly to its beckon call. 

There was a movement beyond the darkness, the shadows, which seemed all the prevalent here in the Rift, and the painted girl made haste down the slope towards the river where they stood. The God who she had seen now when each new region had been unveiled, restored, stood upon the bank in lordly fashion. His ethereal voice boomed through the air, the earth, her body when he warned they mind their distance, and with forward flicked ears, she noted the sound of the second trailing - that they should not knock over the bonelights. 

"Bonelights?" 

With widening eyes, undeniably enthralled by the grotesque monster poised before her, Zahra watched on as he produced a pristine bone from the folds of his tainted-looking flesh, and set it soundly than in the bank - the flower that perched at its top was enticing, casting forth fond light and warmth. Kisamoa proceeded to place others just the same, some on the shore and some in the water, and with a fascinated, wary, eye the young horse watched in silence. 

Inadvertently - perhaps distracted by the magic nagging visibly below her skin (ants tracked aimlessly over white and a snail above the black) - Zahra had come to stand near to a somewhat murky looking stallion and his pet kitten. He raised the question that she couldn’t deny had crossed her thoughts, and no sooner had the words slipped free than one of two children closer still to the water, began to squabble. 

"Hush, please," she motioned to them both, bothered by the shouting; and the show of combined childish defiance, that could very well interrupt His words to follow - unlikely, given the resonation of that voice through all things dead and living. Zahra, as she strode from the proximity of the stallion, was oblivious to the work of the colt’s magic as it veered from his miniature frame, and as she neared the boy, a gentle gesture forward with her plush nose was offered. 

There was no mother straining forward for her child in those heated moments following the God's directive, and after the recent influx of orphans purged from the loins of their now-dead-home, Helovia, it troubled her to think that he could be all alone. "Where are your parents," she asked softly after, ready to take heed should the deity again speak. 
 
Image

@Varuna (and to a lesser degree, Crowley and Otem)
Otem the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#7
otem
You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold


Otem hadn't actually expected the boy to fight back, and so as his body rose to meet hers, the sudden defiance of his muscle against her own caught her off guard. Her shove was far less effective than it might have been if she had prepared better, and this miss made her pin her ears against her ram-horned skull in annoyance. "Haven't you been paying attention to anything?" Otem scolded, trying to mimic her mother's academically condescending tone, but falling far from her goal. "If he was going to eat us, he would have already. Besides, he's said that we've been helping him. Why bother telling us to learn and explore if we're all just appetizers? And if you believe he's really going to eat us, why are you even here?" That last bit Otem thought was pretty clever, but she didn't have time to bask in her verbal bitch-slap, as the boy's magic begins to cause her skin to prickle.

Had Otem known what was going on, she might have thought it a bit ironic that she, the granddaughter of earth and water, was now currently being sucked dry by this half-sibling of hers. BUt of course she didn't, and since it only appeared that Varuna was glaring at her rather than casting magic, she didn't even really associate the itchy feeling inside of herself with the hybrid. Otem's mouth suddenly felt thirsty and her skin felt far too dry, like it had lost all of its moisture.

Hush, please. Zahra interrupted. Otem turned one burgundy and one golden eye towards the mare, and narrowed her gaze.

"Why should we?" The tribrid snorted, and despite her on-going altercation with Varuna she was more than happy to lump him in with her if it would make it 2 vs 1. The mare asked where her parents were, and Otem felt herself visibly deflate. Tears wanted to form in her eyes, but it was like all the liquid in her body was suddenly gone, and so instead she swallowed a muffled sob (down an incredibly dry throat), and shook her head at Zahra. "Why does everyone keep asking that?" The oak-marked filly asked, voice quite soft now as she hugged her shoulders with her wings.


Image Credits

@Varuna and @Zahra

You may always use magic/force on/against Otem.
Crowley
Currently championing:
#8
It isn't long before two children enter the picture. One recklessly dives for a bonelight, one that the God has clearly commanded not to touch, latching onto it with an iron grip and shaking it furiously about. Crowley turns his head to watch the colt and see if he, like so many others, would burst into a cloud of curling black smoke before disappearing forever; after all, Kaos hadn't seem opposed to offing children before. He's trailed by a filly who appears a bit older than her companion, and far more intelligent at that.

A monochrome mare speaks from near his side and causes his ears to flatten, equal parts annoyed and even offended. Perhaps he isn't the best to speak or even think on the matter, as Crowley definitely isn't up for any father of the year awards any time soon, but that doesn't mean he can't believe in allowing children to be children, making their own choices as they began to shape themselves and in turn take up responsibility for what they did. Telling them to hush would certainly do them no good.

"Let them be," he speaks sharply with a narrowed gaze, "If the boy wishes to show defiance before a God, then let him." He had every right to, just as the filly had every right to talk her friend out of doing something potentially stupid. At the question of where their parents were, Crowley heaves an exasperated breath and glances back towards the Riftian deity and then back to Zahra. He wishes to speak, but for now, he bites his tongue to resume his previous silence.

"Speech"

Crowley & Talbot
oh lord won’t you save me
save me from myself
oh lord won’t you forgive me
for I have lost control

Varuna
Currently championing:
#9
VARUNA

The earth-filly's voice grows more stern, more biting, and more tears drip down your face. The muscles in your jaw play like piano keys hidden in your cheeks, grinding your teeth til the flesh is sore. Mismatched eyes lock onto the filly as though they could freeze anything in their path, your anger building.

"He's a liar!" You plead, flaring your wings to emphasize your point. Tingles races up and down your spine as your magic gains strength. Your brain feels light and full of static and the feather in your mane begins to zap violently against your skin. You hate being scolded. You hate being told that you're wrong. She doesn't understand! "He ate my mum and all she did was protect what she loves!" Maybe you were foolish to try to sabotage the shadow-god-demon's ritual or whatever it is he is doing, but if he smites you what difference does it make? 

Why are you even here?

That makes you want to hurt her. You don't know why you're here more than any of the rest of them do. How could mere mortals, let alone children, understand the grand workings of magical beings thousands of years older than themselves? You are alone and confused and have no direction, and the question makes your innards boil. Frustrated and overwhelmed, you try to butt your forehead into her shoulder again; it seemed to get her attention the first time. 

Another voice rises into the mix and you hardly care. It tells you to hush but why should you? She can't tell you what to do. You level your gaze onto Zahra when Otem shares the sentiment. Suddenly your hatred for the gold-flecked filly is forgotten as you aim your tiny rage at the older mare. Perhaps they can join forces in their defiance for a moment. 

The black mare asks where your parents are. You feel like volcano ready to blow. She reaches out to touch you, nudge you forward like you are still some babe! This infuriates you. You lash out with a nip, and your magic reaches out to suck her dry now, instead.

Let them be, comes a fourth voice.

With a pout, you glare at the black mare and move to stand beside Otem... because even though she yelled at you you find a bit of courage in the taller filly.

and calm your heart,
the dark is still the dark
image || coding


@Otem @Zahra
Castiella
Currently championing:
#10

Giggling, skipping, and carrying on about her normal day. This place was always exciting! The fallen angel danced and swirled about the trees to a tune made up in her head. Creamy milk tresses floated behind her god-like sparking body. Blood colored wings loosely dragged the ground leaving a small trail behind her. Oh, course the black shit was growing flowers everywhere, but it was not worth fighting over it right now. She just giggled and continued through the woods... OH! how could she forget about the glowing eyes? No, that is not what she needed to worry about. Not right now... she will deal with the glowing bastards later.

The dense Forrest started to thin. Her masked skull twisted and looked around. Something was different; something was not the same. Her head tilted, and she smiled...." Ohh goodie...." Giggling she followed the path. It soon let out to a soft moss filled green slope. Giggling she made her way down carefully descending. The glowing light flickered over her white and back haunches as she grew closer and closer to the growing crowd. Teal eyes brightened to see no one else but KAOS. A smile dripped across her painted face as she chuckled. Marvelous! She loved being around the monstrous god. Castiella was never scared of him; she never felt the reason to run. She only wanted to know MORE about him. Glowing eyes looked down to the odd flowers placed on bones. She never reached out to touch them... she would heed his warnings. The creamy girl knew what would happen if she didn't.

Long strands of silky white tresses clung to the grass under her body. Humming and giggling the girl looked around. Then her masked skull froze as she found a FRIEND. Giggling Castiella skipped over to the autumn colored girl. Otem must like being around others because a small group was forming around her. The smile on her maw soon fell to a scowl as the painted woman spoke. Blood splattered eyes narrowed upon the girl. WHO the fuck was she?! Black ears pinned against her skull, but Otem was already addressing the girl. Teal eyes flicked to the corners of her eyes watching an approaching man. He felt oddly familiar, but Castiella could not place him... His words were darkened, and she thought there was a faint whisper following the stag. Castiella was not sure; the river produced its own screaming banshee in the background. "Clearly they do not understand that some of us might not have a live parent..." Her voice was passive. It was an indirect blow to the painted woman who apparently stuck a soft spot on Otem. She sparking shoulder rolled as her masked skull looked around. Fucking ADULTS... So far most of them seemed like starting Ass holes... Oh, the boy... the stupid boy... Castiella giggled softly before stepping away from the little beast that was screaming as Kaos... She would not be associated with the colt. Teal eyes focused back on Kaos waiting for shit to hit the fan, AGAIN.

"Talk"

@Otem @Zahra @Crowley @Varuna
Castiella
I'm Well acquainted with villains
that live in my HEAD
image & coding
Violence may be used at any time, but Castiella is volatile 
THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING
 {Image: UbaggXG.png}