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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » Guidebook

The Afterglow.
Open Uwaritace 
Taivas the Hopebringer
Place a name upon the night, one to set your heart alight
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars.
The summer heat feels like the blast from an oven after standing within the contained winter storm above Uwaritace.  Taivas feels the immediate desire to shake off the fur from her skin, disown it entirely, but the discomfort need not last.

She continues to walk for a moment before stopping dead in her tracks, turning to look back at Waker with wide, surprised eyes.  The soothing breath of a cold autumn day begins to enclose around her, chilling the patches of sweat that had begun to form in the mere minute of being outside of the magicked barrier.  "It's cool now," she says, her voice breathless and amused at the same time.  Her head cranes about to catch a glimpse of the medallion, now altered.

The shape is a small, delicate snowflake, intertwined in the pale threads of her mane.  The amulet seems to glimmer like ice under the sun, emanating the cool touch from her neck but spreading quickly.
It was as if she just jumped into a refreshing pool of water.

"I guess it is a temperature charm," her voice is warm, feeling very thankful to the matron and her kin than before.  "That will certainly be useful here in the Rift."
image credit

[ ooc - For @Waker

Immediately follows the » The Tree of Light thread. Sorry this sucks so bad.  
She lets you touch the charm. Trying to not feel weird, you extend your head and neck, and press your plush nose against it. It is, indeed, warm—not unbearably so, just pleasantly so. You don't want to step back, but you have to, and so, you do. You're not cold by a long shot, not even with the sweat freezing on your fur, but something about the charm's warmth had been so nice. You choose not to be envious, though, but rather to be happy for her.

"Alright," she agrees, and sets off towards the barrier. You glance behind you at the gathering, where Kiada is leaving with someone you've never seen before, and then you follow Taivas out from the snow and back into the cruel, scorching heat.

The difference is.. immense. One moment you're cool, the next, the dry, hot air laps against you again, and the sun's rays are no longer pale and beautiful, but somehow over-saturated and relentless. Everything has a different color all of a sudden, and you feel your confused body break out into a renewed sweat. You spread your wings slightly, hoping for some remnant of a cooling breeze to touch your dark skin, but nothing comes, and holding your wings out like this will only tire you. Still, you can't bear holding them tight against your sides just now, so you bear them up.

Taivas suddenly stops, and you do the same. You're a few paces behind her, like some weird bird of prey following her. Her eyes are wide with surprise, and for a single second you're worried that something really weird has happened; you jog the few steps to catch up and come up next to her, trying to not look worried. But when she finally speaks, what she says is, "it's cool now," and you release a breath you didn't know you had held. "Huh," is all you say for a moment, peering at the charm braided into her mane. The ember is gone, replaced by a pristine snowflake. You don't touch it again, because you haven't asked for her permission, but you let your nose hover just over it. Sure enough, the air there is colder.

Maybe it's time to get envious now?

But you don't want to be envious, so you just smile. "If this summer has been anything to go by.. yeah," you respond thoughtfully. You don't remember much of the winter you arrived in, and besides, it was mostly over by the time you got here, but blast it, it had been cold. At least, you think so. It might've been a normal winter for someone else. Your plains never had much of that season—it was mostly cold mud and cold rain.

"Uhm.." you say after a moment, lifting one of your wings to fan your neck, "speaking of the Rift.. what is this place? How did you get here?"

All the things you wish you could've asked her weeks ago.
Taivas the Hopebringer
Place a name upon the night, one to set your heart alight
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars.
When the shaman peers behind her, she sees Waker awkwardly perched with his wings slightly lifted.  Had she been more expressive and less enthralled by the strange charm given to her by the matron, she may have laughed brightly at how silly he looked.  While Waker was certainly old enough to be considered a full grown stallion, he remained somewhat childlike.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Taivas is reminded how her first impression of him had been a child.

He trots up to her side to examine the trinket as well, even as the cool breath encapsulates her softly glowing figure in the summer sun.  Dumbly, he lets out a soft 'huh' as his muzzle extends to investigate the cool air surrounding her.  The shaman does not flinch or move away, never being one to embarrass easily or be conscious of her own personal space.  Still, Waker is polite enough not to touch her without asking, it seems.

She nods in response to his observation of the brutal summer season they were currently experiencing.  While he had arrived at the tailend of the winter, he still nearly died due to the chill.  Of course, Taivas does not know how much was due to him being drenched when he arrived.  Suddenly, as if fog cleared from her mind, that detail of their first meeting becomes curious.  How did he arrive soaking wet?

The movement of feathers draws the girl's attention, and quietly she side steps closer to him, sidling up so that her folded wing is nearly at his side but not touching.  She wondered if some of the cool air would radiate from her charm toward him, helping to cool his skin.  It was worth a shot.

Her eyes look off into the distance to consider his question, thinking back to her arrival here in the Rift.  She remembered little outside of the unsettling eyes and Roscorro's timely appearance as her guardian.  "I know little of this place - only what has been told to me," she says simply and honestly.  "I arrived here by accident."

"I had been flying west to seek out my mother's former homeland, and landed within this realm after encountering strange black clouds, which I presumed to be a seasonal storm."  She turns her face to look back at Waker, with no emotion escaping from her eyes.  "It was not until later I was told the place I sought had been destroyed by this world."
image credit
You find yourself craning your head and peering at her when she moves, as if you're surprised by it—she seems like she's only half-there, like she's not one to move, or emote, without reason and conscious thought. You think she's expressive, but in her own way, yet the seemingly random way she just decides to park herself close to you takes you by surprise. Because, it's not just close, it's, well, pretty much as much as you can snuggle up to someone without actually touching them. There's not a lot of air between your folded wing and hers.

Something about it takes your breath away. It makes you want to do a lot of things at the same time—like awkwardly move away, or equally awkwardly spread your wing across her back, or ruffle her forelock. She's confusing to you, not through any fault of her own, but just because she makes your body confused.

But after a second or so of giving her that wut look, no resentment, just bewilderment, you catch a little of the cool breeze radiating from her body. Oh, you think, shifting your wing against your side. Perhaps the idea of extending it across her back isn't so bad after all. You don't have to lay it against her, just get it out from between the two of you, so whatever chill she's spreading can touch your flank directly, without the insulating feathers...

You don't really dare to, though. You flash her a small smile as a silent thanks, blue-rimmed ears flicking to her tale.

There were similarities to how she found herself here, and how you did. She had been searching for her mother's homeland, and you had been heading towards the southern rampart.

She turns to look at you, but you barely see it; your face is a mask of sudden loss, her story a visceral reminder of what you'd gone through, and how you'd never made it. What did they think of you, back home, when they couldn't find you? When you had neither arrived, nor been felled along the way? Did they think you a coward, who had abandoned them in their time of need..?

Or are they all dead..?

You swallow. "I'm sorry to hear that," you say quietly, something sad touching your pale eyes. "What land were you looking for? Have you tried to leave the Rift? Is it even possible?"

Ma, I wasn't ready.
Taivas the Hopebringer
Place a name upon the night, one to set your heart alight
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars.
The shaman does not notice the awkward air that encapsulates Waker as soon as she moves close to him. Never one for social cues or reading the intents and thoughts of others, Taivas remains passive and calm in the most unusual circumstances. This would be no exception.

All of the possible responses the boy runs in his head never cross her own mind, and she stands nearby, but with the same cool, distant expression on her face.

The dead-eyed confusion on the stallion's face does not register with her, and instead, she simply notices the smile that falls onto his soft lips after a moment or two. A silent thanks, which she answers with her own small, cool smile of you're welcome before her thoughts drifted to her arrival here in the Rift.

In the brief moments that her face is turned from Waker's, the boy's expression undergoes a massive overhaul, one that cannot even been ignored by the shaman's inept social skills. Her dark, stardusted eyes widen with surprise as she glances at his face, stricken by an emotion that is not unfamiliar to her heart. Loss. Pain. Perhaps, even guilt.

The words which fall from his soft lips are quiet, but so heavy that they crash in the air between them, causing an ear to flick back atop Taivas's skull. Without much thought, the shaman extends her own soft muzzle to attempt to gently nudge his neck as reassurance or comfort. He is apologizing to her, but the girl finds herself awkwardly attempting to soothe him from some unseen tragedy. What had the Rift taken from Waker; did he suffer the same losses as she?

"No need to apologize," she says softly to him, pulling her face away from his neck to look at him in the eyes once more. His dark set features hide much of whatever sorrow resides behind the gleaming surface of his amber eyes. "I sought Helovia, which I learned had been... torn asunder in my mother's absence."

Taivas considers his question about leaving the Rift, and briefly she wonders if he would leave if he could. She supposes he would, and in the recesses of her heart, anxiety begins to grow at the thought.

"I have never tried to leave, but since I cannot return home either way, this place is as good as any."
image credit

[ ooc - Sorry that this is so bad. Trying to shake off the dust :o ]
There's no end to the surprises.

But you can't help how your loss sits like a bruise upon your heart, and how easily it comes to the surface. You've always been easy to read, and so, it shouldn't have come as a surprise—but somehow, it still does. Taivas turns her head towards you, her soft muzzle touching your neck. Her breath is warm. Your eyes close, and you bend to return the touch.

You hadn't expected a comforting gesture from her, not because you in any way think her cold or cruel, but because she has not struck you as one for touches. Perhaps she isn't, either, but you don't want to question what she has given you.

It is too precious to ruin.

You've never heard of Helovia before, but you will hear of it again. Your ears flick forward again, and you find yourself missing the warm touch of her muzzle. Even though the air around you is too hot to be pleasant, it feels cold.

Slowly, you turn what she's revealed over in your mind. To find out that what she sought was nothing she could find anymore... Perhaps it would be a relief. And yet, what a tragedy—an entire land lost... You frown a little, looking at the forest around you, and Uwaritace behind you. You've come to understand that such a fate is what the Rift is facing, should you, and Kisamoa, not find a way to restore it.

"Why can't you go home?" you ask gently, the one thing left unanswered in this brief tale.
Taivas the Hopebringer
Place a name upon the night, one to set your heart alight
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars.
The soft, plush skin of another presses back as Taivas comforts the stallion she'd saved many weeks before in the Portal.

If the shaman was surprised by how easily he accepted the gesture, none of it showed on her face.  The girl knew all too well how fragile the injured could be, even if the scars were not visible on the surface.  Her neutral expression remained in place, even as she described her circumstances.  Easily, perhaps too easily, her lips fold and shape the words that she could not return home.  Her voice, like the pale glow of stars just before dawn, is soft and thin, but not melancholy or thick with anguish as one might expect.

Yet, it would not be fair to say she was cold or clinical.

Waker seems to take all of this information in with deep patience, quietly examining it in his mind.  The frown on his lips deepens, yet he says nothing at first.  Taivas stands in the wake of her words, unaffected by the absence or just unaware.  Hard to tell the difference.

Why can't you go home?

His question is one she does not expect, but she does not know much about Waker.  The shaman saved him with little care for him afterward, leaving him with the dimly glowing fire and never looking back.  Effectively, aside from their few run-ins, they were strangers.  It should not be a surprise that he would seek to close the distance between himself and his inept savior, but to the asocial girl, the gesture is... unfamiliar and odd.  The feeling of anxiety in her heart grows, wondering if they were perhaps friends, as she was with Roscorro.

She had never really had a friend, let alone more than one.

"A foreign has invaded my home and enslaved my kin," she says with surreal tranquility.  "Going back after fleeing only means death."
image credit
Your attention—drifting somewhere in the currents of this strange world, trying to picture whichever forest of giants Uwaritace must have come from—silently shifts back to her.

She's something you've never really encountered before: she's thoughtful, she seems kind, but her skin is not a mirror for her soul. She's occasionally abrupt in her departures, but you can't believe it's been with ill intent. And she's here now, isn't she? Perhaps your invitation to explore the effects of her relief charm surprised her, perhaps it didn't, but she's humoring you, isn't she?

For someone who feels strongly and reflects most of it on his skin, she's a mystery, but you like her, and it's not only gratitude for the fact that she saved your life. At least, you think there's more to it than that—a genuine curiosity of who she is.

"A foreign has invaded my home and enslaved my kin," she says after a moment, speaking with a distance and calm you cannot fathom. You don't judge her for it, because it seems so utterly Taivas to speak in such tones, but you know that if it had been you saying those words, they would've been laced with many things: bitterness, anger, sorrow.. your failure keeps ripping at your heart with each beat.

Perhaps her heart rips too, just silently, invisibly.

You can't know without asking, and something holds you back. Another condolence bubbles up the back of your throat, but you swallow it. Instead, you draw a half-circle in the dust of the hot, dry ground, brown blades of grass whispering as you bend them. It means nothing, it's just your body idling, your brain working.

"I suspect much the same happened to my home," you tell her quietly, not trusting your voice to carry louder, or your eyes to stay balanced. You cast them down, blinking hard. "We were in the process of being overrun when I.." That night haunts you, storm-whipped and deathly cold. It makes your throat tight, your breath trembling. It takes you a couple of seconds to gather yourself. "When I ended up here," you finish.