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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » Guidebook

Time Changes All
Open Halyven 
Ruwin the Hopebringer
#1
Ruwin
Mountains rise, towers fall, and oceans turn to sand as time continues to flow. Relentless, merciless. And no matter how hard one tries to deny it, to fight against it, things change. Time drums on and the world continues to turn. The Rift was evidence of the changes that come with time. Its slow decent into chaos that those with hope were now trying to halt. The way it shed lands and devoured new ones as its own makeup and landscape transformed. It all changed. Evolved. Dissolved.

Life, death. Peace, war. Everything would ultimately be irreversibly transformed by the passage of time as events unfolded and worlds ended. Even this mighty city, once thriving and beautiful, had been unable to escape the passage of time. As the clock ticked on events moved into place that would cause its downfall. Nothing stood forever. Now the stones crumbled to dust, many buildings merely a ghost of what they once were. Eventually it would be nothing but dust, bones buried beneath sand. Eventually he to would be bones left to turn to dust. The metal wings that once belonged to his father, rusting away.

Some may remember him, for a time. But eventually, like all things, he would be forgotten. Survived by no one, missed by none. Blue eyes gazed up at the tower that jutted towards the sky, as if challenging time to forget about it. To bring it down to its knees and trample it into dust. It stood, battered and broken, a testament to the builders who created it. The wanderer wondered what would posses anyone to build such a thing. An effort to always be remembered? To make a stamp in their own time that would be gazed upon for generations to come. It worked, sort of. The stallion did not doubt that this strange tower would remain standing for many more years, but the names of those who built it were lost.

Moving away from the focal point of the dead city the stallion wandered the streets. he knew not the name of the land. It was a new addition to his home, swallowed alongside the horses of Helovia. Most likely this was one of their cities. The Watcher did not care for it. Garish and flamboyant. had he been told the history of this place, he would not be surprised by how it fell. Nor would he have had pity upon its inhabitants. In truth, he would think they had it coming. But he knew nothing about the land or its history and cared little about it. The past was come and gone. What interested him was how this land would serve the Rift in the future.
talk talk talk talk
I used to recognize myself

Funny how reflections change
image credit to Marcus Castro
@ unsplash.com


@Rixen

OPEN TO ANYONE
You have my permission to use magic/force against Ru.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D
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Rixen the Hopebringer
#2
R I X E N

As the saying goes, change is the only constant. The one guarantee in life is that things do not forever stay the same. For that, Entropy, is to blame. As the gradual wearing down of a being, system or machine, it is the force that prevents anything from staying the same or continuing to function on the same level for too long. In order for the world to survive, endure, or continue to function, changes had to be made. Sometimes they were good. Other times, not so much. Personally, I held the belief that it was all for a reason, perhaps one greater than any sentient being could know. 

Change was how I came to end up in the Rift. And undoubtedly, I was a different horse then. Tomorrow I'd probably be different from who I was today. Thinking into the future, I almost looked forward to finding out who that would become. Things becoming different, even if every so often, was simply inevitable, and therefore the reality had to be embraced. As I grew, I came to accept the idea that change happened no matter how much I might try to prevent it. It simply could not be stopped. Kind of like how every living thing aged a little bit each day, hour by hour, until the very end when nature finally finished running its course. It was a grim analogy, but nevertheless true. Life was change. I never stayed the same and neither did the world I lived in; everything around me was constantly in motion, whether or not I made myself aware of it. I used to not like change. But now, after all I'd experienced, I could not help but appreciate it. 

Who knew exactly what brought be back to Halyven on this particular day. I couldn't place it myself, and yet I kept coming back. It had been two or three times now, at least. Perhaps it was my fascination with the crumbling spires, the piles of stone scattered here and there like carcasses of the once towering spires. Or maybe I had been drawn back here because I wanted to inspect the ruins more closely, so that I might be able to learn how to go about repairing them. Maybe it would help cure the Rift somehow. The third possibility was that my cause for returning was a combination of both aforementioned reasons. That must have been it. My interest in learning more about Halyven, combined with my partialness to the city that had been born the day I'd first set hoof between the stone-grey walls. As anyone who inquired on the subject well knew, I was not afraid to admit my fondness of this strange, strange place. Walking slowly among the stones, I weighed the possibility of me being the only one here, wondering whether I might happen upon someone else. The sun was shining, after all.

There was probably about a fifty-fifty chance that I wasn't alone. Sure enough, as my hooves carried me around one massive pile of ruins that was once a spire, my emerald gaze fell upon a stranger. He was a rugged looking stallion who stood at about the same height as myself. Protruding from his forehead and snout were two gleaming and extremely sharp looking horns. He had a lean build, dusty brown coat, with a darker face and legs. His neck was adorned by a lighter-colored mane that was quite thick and wild as the jungle, untamable and unruly. What distinguished the unicorn from any other horse I had seen before were the blue tattoos that decorated his face, neck, shoulders, and rump. I wondered if there was meaning behind them. Maybe he'd care to explain. 

"Hello!" He probably hadn't seen me yet, but I called out anyway. My voice rang out with a pleasant tone, echoing off the heaps of ruins that surrounded me. The spires, or what was left of them, were beautiful in an archaic sort of way, and being among them put me in a pleasant mood. "Who are you? I haven't seen you around here before." In an effort to appear more approachable, I took a few steps in the stallion's direction, waiting to see what his response would be. 

"Talk."


they heard me singing and they told me to stop
quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock



image credits || coding credits
Ruwin the Hopebringer
#3
Ruwin
"Hello!" The Watcher's ear twitched and his head to shift slightly in the direction of the stranger. He paused in his walk. The antlered stallion that now stood before him was quite chipper and friendly. And instantly he launched into questions. And he never introduced himself first. Wasn't that against proper manners? Then again, when did he ever cared about proper mannerisms?

He heaved an inward sigh. "Hello." he replied. Like all things, Ruwin had changed with time. At one point he would have engaged in pleasant conversation with this fellow, asking him all about his travels. But now, hardened by time, he cared little about socializing. He didn't care about why this fellow was here. As long as he wasn't trying to harm him, others, or get in his way, they could do what ever they wanted. Go where they wanted.

No kings or rulers governed these lands, everyone was free to do as they wished. As time flowed he was changed. Even now he changed. Normally he would have walked off and ignored the stranger and walked off. Though he was finding himself stopping more often then leaving these days. How things have changed. Though he was not sure he cared for this particular evolution in his personality. "They call me Watcher." He replied, his deep voice echoing off of the walls. He looked at the world about him. "Never been here before." Short and to the point as ever.

talk talk talk talk
I used to recognize myself

Funny how reflections change
image credit to Marcus Castro
@ unsplash.com


@Rixen
You have my permission to use magic/force against Ru.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D
Avatar Credits 
Rixen the Hopebringer
#4
R I X E N

Upon the echo of my voice reaching his ears, the stranger looked up in my direction. He stopped walking, but other than that, had no visible reaction to the sight of me. My appearance was unique, however I would not say that I was particularly interesting looking. By the looks of me it was evident that I was not from the Rift. I had no neon colors, no sharp teeth, no scales, no extra appendages. As he turned toward me, the dust-colored stallion's expression was neither eager nor shy. He just kind of blinked at me indifferently from where he stood. Though I noticed this, it did not deter me from approaching him, instead his apparent lack of interest was quickly dismissed. Taking my time, I continued to approach him at a leisurely pace, only coming to a halt when close enough to talk without having to shout.

The stallion didn't say much in the way of a response to my greeting. Not that I really expected to much after the way he reacted to seeing me there. When at last my hooves ceased to move and I stood directly before the stranger, I gave the stallion a nod in greeting. My emerald gaze examined him more closely, now that I could clearly make out his features. I wasn't really weirded out by his name. Everyone I'd encountered in the Rift had peculiar names, and I am sure that they must have thought the same of mine. Still, I was curious as to why that was his name. Had he chosen it? Or did his mother really name him Watcher? Despite the content of my words, my vocals rang with a warm tone. "Watcher? That's an interesting name." I only hinted that I might like to know more about it, but refrained from asking the question verbatim. I was about to say something else, but not before realizing that I hadn't properly introduced myself. And so I gave him my name, even though he didn't ask for it. A reticent one, this stallion was. "I'm Rixen. It's nice to meet you.

Realizing I would need to say something more to kindle a conversation, and also genuinely interested in hearing his response, I added, "Halyven is really something, wouldn't you agree? I came here to study the ruins. What brings you to these parts?" My emerald gaze departed from the stallion, sweeping across the ruins beside us. A short distance away lay the largest spire, the only spire that still stood. The rest had since been destroyed. Every time I came back, I always liked to picture what Halyven must have been like. 

Halyven must have been glorious once - a metropolis of stone and craftsmanship. I could almost hear the pleasant cheers and bustling in the streets lined by a maze of steadfast walls. Each stone once positioned perfectly in its place to form towers that reached for the sky, rather than crumbling from the top down, giving the impression of disheveled party hats. Such days I never saw. 

That single, pointed spire was the only complete thing that remained. It stood in spite of itself, defying gravity in its precarious way. Everything else in the city had worn and crumbled, their decay the only marker if time in a place of uncounted days. Light danced off of the grey stones, casting them in a silvery glow, illuminating the ruins, precious secrets of the Rift. Weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by dead clumps of grass were scattered here and there. Half-crumbled buildings lined what could have once been streets, but were now rows of cracked blocks and stones broken up by meandering tree roots. When neither one of us was speaking, the city was silent save for the whistling sound created by wind slipping through the stone corridors, weaving between the crumbling spires.
 
"Talk."


they heard me singing and they told me to stop
quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock



image credits || coding credits
Ruwin the Hopebringer
#5
Ruwin
The oddly colored stallion remained unperturbed by his disinterested attitude, instead carrying on in pleasant tones. Unlike Rixen he did not find the other's name odd. Most everyone he met had more than unique names. As unique as the world he lived within. In fact he considered them average, having only ever heard such names. What did Rixen consider average anyways? What world did he come from where a title such as Watcher was any stranger than that of Rixen? It was interesting how the world differed so. "More of a title, than a name. Though that is all the people of this land call me by." he answered. Not that he had ever tried to remedy that. Only those he truly trusted would learn of his real name. He had no one he trusted on such a deep level. Only he and the survivors of the destruction he had wrought would know of the true name his father had given him.

His gaze moved away from the antlered stallion towards the tower. "It's a new land to my home. Having appeared when Helovia devoured." He could only assume that it once belonged to the world his own had destroyed. The world that had killed their gods and sent this land plummeting into further chaos. Still he had come to explore it, seeing fit to learn the new terrain in case he ever found himself back here again. "Far too flashy ,and garish for my taste, but it helps to know the new lands that are swallowed by the Rift." His gaze returned to Rixen as the small breeze toyed with his mane. A portion of his forelock feel over one eye and a mechanical spider moved to rid it from its creator's gaze. Others clicked and whirred as they crawled along his body. None seemed all that concerned with the stranger.

talk talk talk talk
I used to recognize myself

Funny how reflections change
image credit to Marcus Castro
@ unsplash.com


@Rixen
You have my permission to use magic/force against Ru.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D
Avatar Credits 
Rixen the Hopebringer
#6
R I X E N
"I see," Perhaps I did not sound too convinced, but I was quick to change the tone of those two words so the borderline between convinced-ness and thought became almost indistinguishable. I responded to the blue-tattooed stallion slowly, as if I were carefully evaluating the merit of his so-called title. Though it seemed strange to me, I took his explanation at face value and did not question it any further. Of course, I was secretly interested to know if there was more to it, but I had the manners to tell me when it was or was not appropriate to pry further. In this instance, I decided it better to back off the subject and found no trouble in steering our conversation, if you could call it that, toward my initial purpose for coming to Halyven. 

Unfortunately, Watcher couldn’t have known much more about the broken spires than I did, from the way he talked about them. "I’ve been told that Halyven was ripped into the Rift by a god. Although I do not think it came from Helovia, one cannot be certain. I myself am from neither Helovia nor here." I recounted the pieces of information that I’d picked up in my travels across the Rift, regurgitating the words without knowing whether Watcher was already aware of some of the things I was saying. At some point this came to mind, but was easily dismissed.

He seemed to speak of the Rift as his home, an indication that he was born in these lands. This made me all the more interested in speaking to him, for I had never come across a native Riftian before. Not one that I’d known was a native, at least. Depending on his age, he had to have far more years experience living here than I did. The corners of my mouth turned down in a slight frown. It was a look of contemplation upon wondering whether Watcher would be willing to teach me anything about this place. Because the question was probably not if he had information to share, but whether he’d share it with me. By the level of enthusiasm in his voice, which was zero to none, the buckskin came off as gruff in both appearance and demeanor. This made me a little reluctant to directly ask him if he’d mind doing so. 

Having reached a sort of impasse in my mind, I continued to talk about Halyven, which wasn’t difficult considering my level of fascination with the place. "I must disagree with you and say that I quite like this place. In a way, it is almost like a sculpture of nature..." My voice was steady and smooth, polite despite the difference in our opinions. History lived here with the cracked stone paths and crumbling spires. A shadow of its former glory, worn by time and nature, the city was almost locked in another time, visible but somehow dislocated from the here and now. Halyven had a story, one I wanted to know someday. Even if I never knew its story, I'd rather walk among these ancient walls, imagining, fantasizing, thinking of ways to repair them than sitting safely somewhere else in the Rift.

Looking to Watcher, my bright green gaze took notice of the small mechanical spider that crawled up to fix his mane, following the contraption as it tucked the strand neatly back into place. "Did you craft the spider?" As it often was when asking questions, my inquiry was laced with genuine interest as I scanned the other spiders crawling about his back. Hopefully the question would elicit more of a response.  

"Talk."


they heard me singing and they told me to stop
quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock



image credits || coding credits
Ruwin the Hopebringer
#7
Ruwin
He listened to Rixen's own words with that same quiet demeanor. Though their opinions differed he did not show any signs of irritation. He did not expect everyone to agree with him. Or curtail to his whims and wishes. Rixen had his own mind and thoughts and he respected them. In fact that fact that he disagreed, but still chose to converse in a pleasant manner, sat well with the wanderer. He silently enjoyed such conversation, even if he responses were short. So he did not ignore or rebuff the other as he observed him with his clear blue gaze. he watched Rixen for a moment more before looking back over the city he cared little for. It was not likely that he would ever view the city in the same light as Rixen, that didn't stop him from taking interest in the other.

Ear perking forward he turned more towards the other man as the usual coldness when he first encountered someone began the melt. "Which god." He questioned, this was new knowledge to him. "Ours have been dead for three years now. Torn apart than reformed into the being known is Kisamoa. Assuming it was one of our's, the land would have to have been pulled in before their deaths. I do not come to these parts much, so it is quite likely...." He trailed off as he pondered this new information. Had he really not come back to these lands in that long?

He looked at the tower and thought how his father would have loved this place. Claiming it for his own and turning it into some testament to his power. And his kingdom still thrived, Rixen would not have been allowed to enter this great city. In fact, had he been caught by his father's herd, he would have been force to join it. To add his strong genes to their pool. Paired with mares that the elder and deemed a good match. All to ensure the best genes would be passed down. The strongest offspring produced. Had any of those mares failed to produce a healthy, strong foal with the Rixen more than once, they would be discarded from his match up. Produce too many unhealthy, unfit offspring and you were a disgrace, caste aside and spit upon.

His own father had been a product of this perfect breeding. Ruwin himself was a result of this selection as his mother was paired with their king. She had brought forth many strong foals, but when she gave birth to his weak sister, she had been cast aside for another. Though for all of his father's faults, Ruwin believed he did love her. He had allowed his weak child to live at her pleadings, when normally they were culled, and had continued to care for her and her mother. But this was the extent of his kindness. He never looked upon his mother again, or regarded her in the slightest. She had died in his eyes.

He pulled himself from the less than fond memories as he returned his gaze to Rixen. "Perhaps." He muttered at the comment about the city. "I've heard whispers of a group of horses that gather here to share information. In time they may come to claim this place and start a herd. Time will tell." His tail flicked contemplatively as he stood there, looking at a machine that had crawled down his leg and began to scramble across the broken cobblestone.

"I did." He said, reaching down he snorted at the spider. The gust of air sent it sprawling before it found its legs once more and began crawling anew, this time with more fervor as it moved towards Rixen.Silence once again fell between them, but this time it was far more comfortable. Head still down he looked up at Rixen. "You wanted to ask me something else, earlier." He stated, having seen the look in his eye, the way he had paused. he may be anti-social, but that didn't mean he wasn't perceptive. Though it was subtle, Ru's posture had changed as he grew more comfortable around the other. One could not say it was open, fore he would never completely trust, but softer. Less crisp and cold. Though had Rixen not been paying attention he would not notice the quiet change that settled over him.




talk talk talk talk
I used to recognize myself

Funny how reflections change
image credit to Marcus Castro
@ unsplash.com


@Rixen

ooc: Terrible post. Sorry!
You have my permission to use magic/force against Ru.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D
Avatar Credits 
Rixen the Hopebringer
#8
R I X E N
"It was Kisamoa who brought Halyven here." I answered Watcher calmly. Despite my even tone, I began to question whether the stories were true the moment that Watcher asked what god I was referring to. I knew very little about the lore of this land, other than there was a god or maybe even several gods who were by far more powerful than the other Riftian inhabitants. Upon hearing that Kisamoa ripped lands between worlds, I’d simply taken the story as fact, and it dawned on me that such a rash decision could now make me look foolish. Since this was his home, certainly the stallion would know more about the Rift and whether it was true that Kisamoa had been the one to bring Halyven here. I added to the former statement in a slightly less assured manner, to make it known that I was not a know-it-all, "I do not know that to be fact, of course. Being a newcomer, I have little knowledge of the Riftian gods." I was a foreigner to the Rift and the Rift was foreign to me. For the most part, I was unafraid of things I did not know. Even when I was, that fear was replaced by curiosity.

Watcher almost indirectly answered what I’d been wondering. One of the things I’d been wondering. The Rift did have gods, plural - he spoke of the Rift’s dead gods, of how they had been dead for three years and Kisamoa had risen to take their place. To my surprise, he spoke in assumptions, seeming not to know the answer to how Halyven came to be here any better than I did. The Rift was so vast that it was understandable that word did not travel around easily, especially without some form of implemented organization among the horses. In the end, the question at hoof was no matter. It was just a way to make meaningful conversation, and perhaps from here we could continue to bounce our thoughts and questions off of one another, even if we never found any answers. Watcher was a stallion of few words. He weighed each thought and chose the best one, and that I did not mind. This quality made him no less interesting of a character. In fact, it increased my respect for him in a way. 

He paused, taking another look around him - around us, at the ruins that looked more ancient than any bone left in the soil. The once smooth stones, the ones that composed the spires and walls, were pitted and scarred. Halyven knew how fleeting time was, how quickly the present could become the past like the important could become the irrelevant. In this hallowed, crumbling city, the trees had seen the centuries blow past in the winds of each season and witnessed the folly of the people’s struggles. Watcher seemed to be taking it all in. He looked thoughtful as his gaze scaled the tallest remaining spire, but it was impossible to tell what he might be thinking. I, too, looked on, taking this opportune silence to admire the city, which was captivating even in its ruined state. Watcher didn’t seem to agree with me on the idea, and I didn’t try to change his mind. I couldn’t make the stranger see Halyven how I did, if he didn’t want to. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, after all.  

Word had spread of our meeting at the Pinnacle. Or at least, Watcher had found out about it somehow, and he knew that we’d chosen Halyven as our meeting place. "Indeed. I was there, at the very meeting where it was decided. Like you’ve heard, there will be meetings held here every half-moon, so that we can communicate with one another and perhaps begin to consider agreeing upon a more formalized system. You’re welcome to drop in, if you want. The first meeting here is not too far off." With a smile, I invited him to come to the meetings should he so choose. I was skeptical that he’d accept, though. He did not seem like the sociable type. 

I watched the mechanical spider as it crawled up across his dust-colored hide. "How did you-" I began, before the stallion remarked that he’d noticed the question that had appeared across my features and vanished nearly as fast as we talked. "Oh, right, I was. You see-" I took a larger breath, collecting my thoughts. My gaze hadn’t left the spider, which moved as fluidly as if it were alive. In a way, with the help of magic, it was. "You like crafting things?" I finally began, thinking about where to go with this. One question at a time. 

"Talk."


they heard me singing and they told me to stop
quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock



image credits || coding credits


It's all good :D
Ruwin the Hopebringer
#9
Ruwin

“That is quite possible.” Ruwin replied in his normally thoughtful manner.
“I was born into this land, lived here for six years. If there is one thing I have learned, is that we truly know nothing about the Rift.” It was already next to impossible for one to know everything about their world. But the rift was alive in ways that many worlds were not, as the bay dun had learned in his conversations with others who had entered his own. It constantly changed. Lands came and went. Some even returned after years of absence. The Green Labyrinth was one such example.

Some had remained for as long as he could remember, while others were swallowed by darkness and lost to them. While others, were completely new to him. Such as this city. He did not condemn or think lowly of Rixen for being unsure of his words. When learning of these lands one relied much on the words of others. Hearsay and rumors, or the accounts of those who had actually witnessed it being pulled into the rift. It was in gathering these tales, no matter how outrageous they were, that one began to find common threads among the chaotic weave.

Though he cared little for the city itself, he did wish to learn of its place within his world. His only value in learning the past was simply to not repeat it. Though he doubted he would ever find one who knew the true history of this fallen city left to time. He made no comment to try and sway Rixen from his views of the city, letting the subject drop. They did not have to agree to have a pleasant conversation. All they needed was a polite civility and mutual respect for the other and their right to their opinions. It was truly depressing how many people had forgotten that. At times his words could come across as harsh, fore he never sugar coated things. Preferring to speak simply and plainly. He did not endeavor to put down another because they dared to disagree with him.

But Rixen had not forgotten how to have such a conversation with others. This was why Ruwin found so much pleasure in conversing with the other man. So when he spoke again the roamer gave him his full attention. He not only knew of the meetings, but he had been apart of the founding party. He gave a slow nod to his words. “Perhaps I will join you, one day.” He said.

He was not a social man. Never actively seeking to meet others or start a conversation. But this small band of horses appealed to his desire to collect more knowledge. He could see their value in helping to fulfill this desire. He could come for a meeting. Watch, listen and then leave. If the event proved useful to him he would return again. If not then he would simply move on. His gaze suddenly dropped to his machine as Rixen asked his question. Did he like crafting things? The corners of his lips twitched in what could have been a smile, if it had lasted longer than the time it took to blink.

Next to the spider, dust began to stir. It swirled and shifted as small pieces of ore was magically drawn from the earth. These particles danced around themselves as they fused together. Forming gears, wires and other parts need to assemble one of his creations. The taste of magic was in the air as the intricate machine was brought to life. The process to only a few seconds, an actions done a thousand times by the loner.

The dust fell away, revealing a new machine. Its delicate wings glinted in the sunlight as it stood on slender legs. The elongated body of the dragonfly looked like a twig next to the spider. As magic breathed life into its form its shining wings came to a life. A small buzzing noise floated from the machine as it lifted off of the ground to hover before Rixen’s nose.

“They serve their purpose.” Ruwin’s voice said, but it did not come from his lips. No, it drifted from the dragonfly as it watched Rixen with its jeweled eyes. “I can transfer my senses and voice through them. As such they can also act on their own and alert me when my attention is needed.” Thus giving him his name. Watcher.

The dragonfly, done with its display, flew over to its creator where it landed upon one of his wings. He had not shown Rixen his power to show off. If that had been his aim he would have been far more flashy as he went about creating his machine. A lot less matter of fact and more fluff and sparkle. But others did not often perceive things in the way he meant it. Though he did not feel this man would leap to such a conclusion. Rixen had inquired about his machines and the wanderer felt like he would appreciate the chance to see his magic at work. It was often far easier to show his magic, rather than explain it. The blue colored man was one of the few that Ruwin had shown his power to. Most simply saw the machines he had already created as they crawled upon his body.
talk talk talk talk
I used to recognize myself

Funny how reflections change
image credit to Marcus Castro
@ unsplash.com

@Rixen

Ooc: SORRY THIS TOO SO LONG! The original was so much better but it was lost to the void. T.T
You have my permission to use magic/force against Ru.
Maiming and killing is not allowed. You can always message me if you're not sure about anything/want to plot something out. =D
Avatar Credits 
Rixen the Hopebringer
#10
R I X E N
Watcher was right. We did not know anything about the Rift. Even if I thought I knew anything at all, that could never be accounted upon. I had a strange feeling that among all of its other magical elements, this place was deceiving. Who knew whether or not what I perceived to be true was just an illusion, a twisted figment of my imagination. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes to sleep, I considered the possibility that the Rift was a dream, and that when I opened my eyes again, I’d be at home again in a place far from here. It wasn’t that I disliked the Rift. In fact, it was quite the opposite - the Rift was growing on me. I missed the world I came from, and all of its familiarities. Because familiar things - the creatures, the surroundings, my place in the world - beheld a certain sort of comfort. Perhaps a fear of the unknown also played a role in my inclinations. But every time the thought of wanting to return home crossed my mind, I remembered that there was nothing to go back to. Everything I had known, everything once held dear was destroyed, and that raised the question of whether my ‘home’ was even a home at all.  

I was glad to hear that Watcher would consider my offer to come to our next meeting. Part of me had expected him to politely decline, and that made his response all the more surprising. He did not seem to be a social creature, but perhaps he could see the value in having a connection to a  group of horses who were willing to watch his back. Nevertheless, I accepted his answer without a second thought. "I do hope to see you there." Genuinely, I did. A warm smile spread across my features, reflecting my excitement even at the prospect of the blue-tattooed stallion coming. Its radiance was almost like a second invitation for him to join us in itself, with the knowledge that he would be accepted. Should Watcher decide to show up, he would certainly not be disappointed, even if we were an odd bunch. 

His response to my own question was not verbal per se, for rather than speaking aloud, Watcher began to assemble a new machine. It rose from deep within the earth, each piece twisting and contorting in the air until each gear and tube and piece was all bound together. This magical process was not without sound, the clicking and whirring of the machine as Watcher breathed life into it with invisible hooves. It was a dragonfly, not a spider like the many crawling upon his back, and I watched in fascination as it rose off of the ground. The mechanical dragonfly flew toward me with utmost ease, moving as if it were living, stopping right before my nose. I did not flinch. Instead, my green eyes traced across the machine, examining it carefully as if it was possible to see how it worked with only my bare eyes. "Interesting." Was the only word that escaped me, brows furrowing thoughtfully. I had never seen something like this before, or like any of Watcher’s mechanic creatures. I’d never seen magic work in such a way to create beings so delicate and intricate. And they were not even alive. "They are curious little machines, behaving exactly as if they are alive. Having the ability to create must be a great honor. I would imagine your creations must be of great use to yourself and others." After all, what couldn’t these machines do? In watching this new machine and the others, I saw a world of limitless possibilities. 

To my surprise, when Watcher spoke again, his voice came from the dragonfly before me. He could speak through it, and as he revealed, he could almost become the machine when he chose to do so. My gaze followed the dragonfly even after finished speaking. As it moved back to Watcher, the insect moved its wings up and down so sharply that it looked like they were under remote control, as if a tiny electrical current opened and shut those vivid, almost translucent blades. In a way, they were. With the crafting of these mechanical creatures in mind, I raised another question. By now I’d mentioned the idea to several horses, but my curiosity never grew old. "Ever since I first set hoof between these crumbling walls, my mind has been occupied with the question of repairing this place. A daunting task, of course, but… do you think it would be possible?"

"Talk."


they heard me singing and they told me to stop
quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock



image credits || coding credits


@Ruwin 
Ack that's the worst, I totally understand. :((