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No Music
RP Wanted The Portal 
Seiji the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc

Things beginning to fade: the crash of the waves; the way the smoke purled on a clear, still day (that exact shade of grey); a sister's voice; the weight of a dear friend's head against one shoulder. Somewhere far away: the garden overlooking the sea. Memory is not kind. It warps and trembles as it fails, until he cannot know if he recalls the way the wind moved through the wisteria branches, or if he's making it up. Worse: to remember the face of one dear and remember it wrong. To hold a lie in his heart.

He has been traveling a long time.

If he could, he would tell you this doesn't trouble him. He would smile in the strange way he does with only his eyes, which would make you want to smile, too, and he would laugh and say he never worries about such things. He has all he needs. But he hasn't said anything at all for a very long time.

Longer even than he has been traveling.

He doesn't look very old. He would laugh, too, (in his silent way) if you were to mention it. Surely one so young cannot have been on the road very long? Surely other pilgrims have spent more hours walking then he's even spent alive? This is true. He can only measure time relative to himself, so it feels as if he has been moving forever, farther and farther away from the things he loves. He wonders what his sister is doing (and cannot quite picture her face) and he thinks maybe she's grown now. Maybe he wouldn't know her anymore.

It will be a good reunion when he returns. He tells himself this. Silent. Wordless. Only the soft noise of his breath and the endless drumming of his hooves. He walks now. He moved more quickly before; he alternates to keep his muscles warm and he could move for days, himself alone, a shape like the shadow of a deer passing by all the endless hidden places of the world. He has never been in better shape; he is strong despite the slim, slim architecture of his body. He is a dancer; he moves on soft feet, and his passage is graceful to watch if only you avoid the rare, quick movement of his eyes.

He doesn't look back, though it's easy to see he wants to. His eyes almost complete the movement and he interrupts them, turns them ahead. He is very quiet.

He arrives now at a gate. Or maybe he passed through the gate before; he is aware only of being in one place and then another, a quick change like one might experience in a dream. Lights; he hesitates, one foot barely lifted, and the trees are changing before him. The forest whispers in a voice not kind. Not welcoming. It shivers down along his spine, caressing the black skin of his back, the white, white stippling on his shoulder which are scars now, white hair hiding scars, an abstract shape like a wing half-folded on his left side and like nothing on his right side. Incomplete. His eyes are dark beneath the sparse fall of his forelock, beneath the swift prick of his little ears.

It is a bad place, possibly. He doesn't feel fear often but now it flashes in his eyes, in the white just visible around the darker iris. He could go back; maybe he should go back. In his mind is a fading version of a garden filled with leaves and the voice of someone he loves.

He moves ahead.

img by Tildae @ flickr

ooc// nothing special about him (yet ;)) anyone welcome! <3
Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
The days were long and the sun beat down upon the Rift’s shifting facets with such formidable fury, that the vast majority of Valkyrie’s enthusiasm to explore, had all but shrivelled up; in fact, she’d scarcely sauntered beyond the shadowy contours of the Portal region, for more than a week. There was just no motivation. Lethargically she lingered, bathed in the blotchy shade of one gnarled tree or the next, never quite able to escape the merciless humidity of every hour ticking by. Her coat was indeed thinning; it was snagging in the bark she leaned up against, shedding like fine snow in wake of her lagging stride and though the truth pained the woman’s proud, vain standard, her appearance was looking extremely dishevelled.

The glowing orb still trailed her like a lost child and though its quiet effect was inexplicably soothing, an irrational stew of frustration and discontent, boiled increasingly in her belly. Time was passing quickly. Her Sisters would, no doubt, be returning to the pinnacle of Sunnmøre with their trophies, and she - stuck in this gutter world where all rejects were stored - had become distracted, she was dithering, well and truly muted of magic. Valkyrie drew a deep, long breath and held it, brooding in the moment over a multitude of wasted opportunity; she had no desire whatsoever to rot here. She did not belong; was not like them at all…

At last she grew tired of wallowing, and ascending from the fetid swamp of laughable melancholy, Valkyrie took the spear between her teeth and began a slow trek west - a good bath was the first point of call, and the summit held the purest water around. However, as luck would have it, she stumbled suddenly across the path of another horse before much ground had even been covered. Pausing her soft step with some element of a smile straining her lips, the pale (mud-marked), Sister moved to catch his eye.

“Hello there!” she greeted, feigning the appearance of good-nature as best her cold soul was able. There was fear flashing in the boundless darkness of his eyes, and a feeling of advantage was swift to bolster her posture. This time, Valkyrie cared little to disguise her preoccupation - she was growing impatient, lazy - and bright blue eyes deviated south to examine his gender; indeed it was there, lurking beneath the veil of his shadow. Excitement resonated through her core, buzzing, humming through the rising mania in her mind. “Mind if I join you?” Stark gaze had narrowed considerably, quite beyond her notice, and as her chin lifted through the air; the foolish, young hunter could barely resist the urge to ambush.

Seiji the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc

The forest dreams: shadows shot through with bolts of color, mist clinging to the bark and creeping low to the ground. Eyes like stars in the dark. When he is able to master the frantic pace of his heart, he knows: this place is unlike all others. Once he stood upon the sands of home and gazed out at the horizon, imagining a pit of endless darkness. Now….

It’s warmer than expected.

He dares not hope too desperately, but he wonders if at last his journey draws near its end. Perhaps somewhere, in the shadows of roots, or up high in the branches…. His eyes like inkwells, bright and full of possibility. But he needs not wonder long; a whisper of wings (so familiar, so strange) and a dawning brilliance flares to life. Something - someone - visible now between the trees. Mist parts around her as if the forest spits her out: a girl. She smells of the wood, all mud and feverish light. But his eyes, his eyes are drawn one spot: feathers. She wears them like pieces of a crown. A detail stolen from a fairy tale.

Maybe something keen shoots through him next. It goes too quickly to be sure; he would say you imagine it, the look in his eye, the sudden tension. Like a hunting hawk. At last, he thinks, but his eyes are soft again, a little wary. He turns as if shy, presenting the point of his unfinished shoulder. Bright, her voice. Keen, the steady lock of her gaze. If he were someone else, telling this story from outside, he might remark upon the way they mirror, as if they are both predators. As if each sees the other as prey. But he’s here, living it; he steps back half a pace, his head up at the end of his long swan’s neck, and her reflection is something pale and intrusive in the darkness of his eyes.

His eyes: on the weapon now. Calculating. Watchful. He never for a moment trusts the ring of her voice, but he refuses to bolt. Maybe she knows the next road he must take. So with effort - wait.

Is she - ?

His ears flick back and in that time her keen gaze has darted under his ribcage and come up again. Is that how this is going to go? The fear bleeds out of him. She looks young, doesn’t she? Younger even than he, and gazing up at him with strange, fierce hunger. Yet the fear is gone; he regards her with something far more gentle, some baffled amusement, as if this isn’t the first time someone has violated his privacy and he isn’t angry, no. He’s a little disappointed. Halfway around the world, into this nightmare place, and still, the people in it are…

He shakes his head, something like laughter softening his eyes. His lips part, but he can’t say, “My name is Seiji. It’s nice to meet you.” Or even, “My eyes are up here,” though he is far too polite. He cannot ask the girl her name, or where her parents are, or if there is a word for what she is, with living wings whispering beside her ears (and does her soul sing like a bird's?). He can only pantomime the disability, and hope she doesn’t get any more brash.

In an attempt to change the subject, he gestures at the trees. Maybe she can tell him where he is.

img by Tildae @ flickr
Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
There was a saying amongst the warrior women of the Sisterhood (there were many…), a proverb that had been repeated many times throughout the course of her indoctrination “Where are you?" Advisors of the Shield would demand, of the newest generation. "Here!" The Daughters would answer boldly together, just like a well-oiled machine.

"What time is it?" They would ask next.

"Now!" The infants would return.

"What are you?"

"This moment!…"

Young and rudely naive to the expectations of the very different world beyond, Valkyrie had grown brash, impulsive and overly hasty in both behaviour and thought; her heart was as unforgiving as her mind was tenacious - it was all crudely concocted beneath the prevalent irrationality of preadolescence. A molotov cocktail, in many ways. This brilliant defiance and unmovable arrogance was what gave the Shieldmaidens such renown ferociousness. They feared nothing, but failure. Age and size did not interfere with their terrier-like resolution. Perfection was key.

Unmoved by his lack of submission (she didn’t need him to be scared), her wide eyes held onto him with ravenous intent. What she did not expect was his stony stand of silence, and as the seconds bled by between them, her coiled and ready posture began slowly to stiffen. One ear flinched against the cold, hard surface of her helm. His eyes had softened - they no longer mirrored the predatory buzz, which yet lingered in her own. Oblivious, near blinded by her own self-absorbed ambition, she missed the gentle curve of bewildered amusement relieve the darker expression of his face; the fear, the predatory wanting.

The lips beneath it all parted as expected, hoped for even, and for the briefest moment, she indulged in the fanciful idea that he might stoop to grovel for her mercy. That’s what man was, right? Sniffling, stupid and cowardly - like Vynter. But as she watched him, a small smirk quirking the false extent of her broad, friendly grin (listening with both ears pricked and eagerly waiting), he said nothing whatsoever, and the event brought her no gratification at all; instead his nose carried her eyes away towards the trees, and Valkyrie’s ego fell like a shot duck, from its pedestal.

Confused (and so easily distracted), she scanned the vicinity directed to by his gesture.

“Yeah, trees...” She blurted, dissatisfaction written through each word and her narrow eyes doubled back with a glimmer of anger, pooling in their midst.

He was lean, lanky, though unlike the ungainliness of the colt she had seen. His throat stood quite upright with a regally placed head, and his shining black pelt was marred only by what seemed to her to be a long line of well-orchestrated bird poo. Though he looked to tower above her, he hardly did at all. Valkyrie bristled and slid a step forward.

Rift Presence
Currently championing:
There is a subtle darkness that encompasses the land as you walk in, it takes no notice of Valkyrie as it’s eyes on entirely set on you. The glowing eyes that surround the forest around the portal glow as though it is the heartbeat for such a starved creature, but there is no body attached to the darkness, just an overwhelming feeling of being watched. It wants to reach out, to find something within you it can take, but it glowers in itself as it realizes you have nothing of interest. Then, as if a light had been turned on, the darkness disperses as well as the feeling, leaving you exactly as you were before.
the Rift


Welcome to the Rift! :)
» Presence of the Rift «

Explorer Kiada
Currently championing: Vjanta
golden child, lion girl — tell me what it’s like to conquer.
There was something that had always drawn Kiada back to the Portal. It was much like being back in Helovia where she had been insatiable when it came to the curiosity of who was unlucky enough to fall into this trap of a world. Nevertheless, it was getting better, despite the fact that she was sure Drench would come soon and encompass the world in an endless stream of rain. Sighing quietly to herself, she moved through the familiar trees, Khairi gliding above her like a beam of light against the dreary and dark hued foliage. As they approached the general area of the Portal, both Khairi and her listened as voices (or simply one voice?) emerged.

They remained hidden for a brief moment, gazing at them from behind the trees as Khairi landed on her spine, her flames hidden to help her blend in and not burn the forest to the ground. There really wasn’t much, save for a rather lean male, dark as night and another one that seemed perhaps somewhat familiar in the fact she may have seen the mare at one of the gatherings for Hope – as if added to it, she noticed the ball of hope floating by the mare’s hip. Yet, the stallion didn’t have one nor did he say anything – instead he simply gestured to the trees. Immediately Kiada’s gaze landed on the mare as she spoke. Kiada’s ears wavered, clearly uncertain what the mare was getting at.

So with a quiet inhale, the mare stepped out of the brush, her tall draft-like frame was elegant and dished near her face, though her body seemed to leak power. Khairi, remaining on her spine, let his crimson gaze land on the strangers before crooning a guttural hello. Kiada, meanwhile, dipped her inky head in greeting to the two. “Hello. I’m Kiada and this is Khairi.” She began, directing her gaze to the mare and the stallion – though moreso to the stallion who didn’t have a ball of hope. Perhaps he was the newcomer here. “And this is the Rift, you’re currently at the Portal, though there are many other lands around.” She offered, giving the man a brilliant smile from her pink splashed lips. The smile began to falter slightly as her tone took a more serious note. "It can be dangerous, however. Travel with care." She informed them as she settled back in, attempting to not seem to commanding despite the fact she felt as though she'd lived here for years.

fearless child, broken girl — tell me what it’s like to burn.



Seiji the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc

Seiji knows one thing about this child: difficult. His ears settle in a position just back, a restrained frown. Trees, he thinks. Yes. He attempts a smile, strained, as one does with difficult children. But it disagrees with the set of his ears; doesn't quite warm the depths of his eyes. Where are her parents? Her broad shoulders rise to nearly the height of his own, but he sees too much youth in her face for her to be alone, unless she’s orphaned? He blinks at the spear again. Maybe he should have expected this: an alien culture for alien beings. Frustration quells his brief moment of triumph. Should he proceed alone? He considers; maybe others can help him as she cannot.

But before he must act, another joins them. Seiji’s eyes lift again to the trees; a subtle tightening of the well-honed springs in his body. His ears are up. His eyes snap to the large shape of a mare, and on her back… Again that subtle frisson, the blank intensity of his gaze. It passes in half a heart beat, and Seiji shifts his weight. He meets again the woman’s eyes, but there in the back of his mind, anticipation beats again. I am close, he thinks. So close. He studies the curved blade jutting from between those blue eyes. The second time is less surprising, isn’t it? Aware now he stands in the country of monsters - demons? - he accepts the bizarre with quiet wariness.

The woman names herself. She names the bird... Now Seiji blinks at it with open curiosity, his slim face nodding recognition. And she names the place, and he nods more fervently. A silent thank you, thank you! Something about her, maybe her stance, the commanding presence of sheer height, makes him think of - a guard, maybe. Calm and to-the-point. He’s barely conscious of the way his posture relaxes, down from tiptoe, in the presence of a sane adult - although….. She looks young as well, doesn’t she? Somewhere in the architecture of her face. Her manner disagrees, but like the first stranger, Kiada retains some lankiness of youth. Are there only children here?

And what does that mean? For him?

He nods again at Kiada’s mention of danger. Of course. He sees it, smells it, in the wood. The air. The pulsing sentience of this place. However, he appreciates the warning (even if it comes from someone his junior). He steps forward once and gestures again, first in one direction, then another, and turns an enquiring eye toward both girls. And what is that way? And what is that way? And where must he go? Even if he could, he dares not admit his reason for seeking this out - this Rift which in the safety of his home he called something else. But they must be the same place…. Yes.

There is something here, he thinks, his eyes skating over them both. Danger and novelty. Something of mine.

img by Tildae @ flickr
Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
That step nearer to the wordless, irritating male stalled unexpectedly as the muffled thud of another’s step nearby, tempted her keen ear to reverse. Quickly those ice-blue, hostile eyes swerved to follow, knifing through the shadow-licked undergrowth (though the dark veil did seem to be dissipating), until they fell upon upon a much larger-looking horse who was moving towards them from the cover. Power resonated through every flex of that enormous, angular body and the canvas of numerous colours tight around it (of markings and gloss), rippled gloriously against the sinew that must have been layered beneath; Valkyrie absorbed it all before studying, with baited breath, the pointed dagger that curved outwards from the very centre of a thick, pallid forelock.

This woman epitomised strength and beauty and the smaller, though undeniably self-assured Shieldmaiden,   regarded her with a swiftly softening, intrigued eye. Coming to rest now against newly coiled haunches, she seemed to forget for the moment, that the man still existed beside them - that he too was watching with interest. Atop the other’s spine (barely within view), a bird perhaps larger than all their heads combined, was perched and murmuring in its primitive tongue; barely a glimpse passed it by, for wildlife was not a thing that she cared for… much - although it was lovely on the eye at with a cloak of brown and salmon, and a distractingly fierce stare. Valkyrie’s focus remained fast upon the mare.

“Valkyrie,” she announced herself, boldly and without hesitation, easily asserting the young sound of her voice above the stallion (who had apparently better attracted Kiada’s notice), for he still did not speak; only nodded, and nodded, and swung his black, pointed nose about like a dull-witted tortoise hoping to mate.

Visibly frustrated, for he was nothing compared to her, the Daughter lifted forth her pale, sloping shoulders and stood a little taller; the wings that had folded themselves smoothly beside each ear unfurled in beautiful exhibit, complimented all the while by the copper-detailed feathers that fanned out from the lovely helm sat before them. Look at me, her exquisite, near-perfect (for her coat still shed in droves), demonstration seemed to shout. Without the experience of rejection to hold the ballooning conceit in check, Valkyrie plainly assumed that her presence would be irresistible in the perceived to be wanting eyes of the painted woman; just as she had been to Sigrún, on those nights of irrepressible lust.

Teeth lowered the shining spear to the ground, though her striking eyes did not sever their grip on the woman. “You are from the Rift, Kiada?” She queried as the lingering tone of the warning began to dissolve into the whispering air around them; her tone was different, humbled and gentille. It only seemed appropriate that one so ornate and mighty-looking should hail from a land as wildly impressive as this. In turn, the existence of the man and her intention to destroy him became nothing but a vague mumble in the back-noise of her mind.

Explorer Kiada
Currently championing: Vjanta
golden child, lion girl — tell me what it’s like to conquer.
The Harpy immediately notices the interaction as it changes before her eyes as she approaches, her eyes watching the stallion as he nods appreciatively toward her for what Kiada assumed was an answer to his question. Yet, Khairi continued to look at the strangely winged mare, his scarlet gaze watching her with a hunter’s eye – a predatory stillness that only came from being a fervent hunter. Kiada, meanwhile, studied the man for a brief moment before looking over to Valkyrie, her small smile still remaining on the paleness of her pink lips. She announces her name and Kiada dipped her head gently to the mare. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She adds, returning her attention to the stallion.

But there’s something off – he can’t speak? She notices it as he steps forward and gestures in each direction, unable to say anything to her. Kiada remembers the strangeness of her interaction with Vynter, the deaf child that broke her bag that Khairi had made, and sighs a bit in relief internally. At least Seiji can hear her, but she’s not sure what to call him. Putting it aside, she lifts her head up slightly, urging the orb of hope along her hip to move toward Seiji, glancing at Valkyrie for a fraction of a second in a curious thought as to why the mare hadn’t offered it. Surely she would have seen how she got it and understood how to transfer it. Regardless, she offers Seiji a brilliant smile. “Here, take this. It’s a Ball of Hope. Share it with those that do not have one.” She began before pausing to step back, allowing her orb to split and float over toward Seiji.

Valkyrie’s voice reached her ears, and her inky head swiveled back toward the mare with a small shake of her head – her smile still remaining. “No, I was not born here. I came from a land called Helovia. The god of this land – Kisamoa – ripped open a portal and pushed us all through. You see, the land here is dying which is why it’s so treacherous. However, it is our goal by sharing the Hope with others and the inhabitants of the land to try and heal it and right the wrongs.” She offered the tidbit of information to the both of them, her eyes glancing toward Seiji to see how he took the information. “I have been here for about a year, though. A few of us are working on putting together a group similar to a herd in a land called Halyven. It’s to the east of here, a large broken structure that’s pure white. You can’t miss it. We meet there now and then, so if you’re looking for others that might be a good place to start.” She paused, settling back into her space. “I’m not sure what it is that you’re looking for, but in the east it’s quite warm and almost desert-like, to the west there’s a more valley-like environment, and to the south is mostly rainforests similar to this and water. Be careful if you reach a land where there’s a black wall separating us from whatever’s out there, I hear the wall is very dangerous.” Kiada flashed him a roguish smile before offering Valkyrie the same.

After a few moments, Khairi opened his large ivory wings, stretching them out before swooping back to where they came, scouting for any dangers in the surrounding area. After checking out, he returned, perching on a large tree branch overhead. “Khairi says that all three directions are safe from predators for now, I’m not sure which way you two plan on going but it should be safe at the current time.” She nodded toward them, her inky head bobbing slightly, before realizing how strange it might look to two complete strangers that she seemed to be talking to a bird. After a small chuckle left her lips, she lowered her head slightly, her ears wavering. “I’m sure that is strange to you, but Khairi is my companion. We are soul bound.” She offered a small amount of an explanation. “Oh, and magic is rampant here as well, so be cautious of that. Some creatures have some, but mostly the inhabitants like my Helovian’s and a few of the natives.” And as if for explanation, she summoned the animal-shaped fire to dance across her spine for a brief moment, her eyes landing first on Seiji for his reaction before settling on Valkyrie, curious to see if she had magic too.

fearless child, broken girl — tell me what it’s like to burn.


@Valkyrie @Seiji -shamelessly offers a novel- also, Kiada offers Seiji a Piece of Hope!

Seiji the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc

He is forgotten. Just as well; without the ferocious gaze of the winged girl upon him, Seiji relaxes. He remains wary, of course, light on his feet, aware of the spear and the pointed horn, both. Of Kiada’s size. Of the darkness lingering somewhere in the wood. He's pleased, at least, to learn the girls are strangers to each other as well as to himself. A company of strangers makes for better company altogether than a pair plus one.

Briefly, he blinks at the winged girl when she says her name. Valkyrie: beautiful and sleek, a name for cliffs. For someone pale and cold, though Seiji thinks she runs a little hot. She doesn't speak to him, of course; amusement glitters in the dark of his eyes as he studies the expression on her face. Rapt; maybe smitten. Seiji was never so brash in his adolescence but he remembers being impulsive. The creaking of gulls, the hiss of the waves, the taste of blood and old words mingling on his tongue.

Impulsive. Yes.

The impression of a day long ago: the winding shore, wood splintered around him. The feasting of birds. Farther out: fins slicing the waves. The next time he blinks, the memory flees, and his mind roots once more in his flesh. Maybe some things are never lost to time, but he can’t see the feathers, can’t smell the blood and the rime. It become abstract. He lets out a breath.

Kiada is speaking; he doesn’t know for how long. She approaches, in her wake a miniature sun like the one Valkyrie tows. He hadn’t noticed hers, but now it moves on its own like a firefly, like something alive. His ears crane forward; his neck arches, the long swan’s bend. And it splits: two tiny suns, one traveling toward him.

For a moment, only the sphere exists. No word for the miraculous bubble in his chest, the feeling warm and suffocating all at once. It isn't alive. It doesn't speak. But it is his, his first companion in so many long days, and it trembles a little in the brilliance of his eyes. Only when it drifts beside him, dormant, does he return his face to Kiada. Thank you. Another nod, slower, deeper than the ones before. He doesn't know what it means but he senses it is a gift, a worthy gift. His eyes linger on her face - certain she must be young, as well, but so different from Valkyrie. What's happened to make her so much older than she is? He thinks, maybe suffering, but he doesn't dwell on it. Rude to wonder. Better to move on.

But she has more to say. Seiji listens politely to the rest, stowing carefully in his memory more names: Helovia, Kisamoa, Halyven. A direction: east. He has what he needs.

But he lingers, returning the girl's smile with a gentle one of his own. They could be friends, he thinks. If this were elsewhere. If his were a happier tale. He dares not regret.

He does look with interest at the bird called Khairi, something he would call familiar in the master's tongue. Something they had other names for in the languages of rock and mist. But something Kiada only calls soul-bound. As she explains, Seiji steps forward, his nose extended. He does not intend to touch, but curiosity pulls him near. Just one? He wonders. One forever? It has a name. It isn't anything he understands.

For the first time, his left shoulder is visible, with its false wing - maybe only to Valkyrie. He isn't paying attention. He's looking at the bird. He's thinking of the noise wings make in flight, the graceful arc of Khairi’s great ones. Another memory: feathers falling, falling all around him.

He isn't ready for the fire, when it comes.

With a huff of breath, he leaps back. Instinct kicks in his chest - run - but he doesn't run. He stands at a safe distance and stares at this girl who is, was, still a monster in his eyes. His gaze is quiet, vibrant, difficult to read. His ears twitch this way and that, and he’s full of - awe. Magic - how? She spoke no word. She… is it the bird?

Rapidly, his eyes flick from Khairi to the empty space of Kiada’s back. And then, with a jerk, he gazes on Valkyrie. Hesitant. Expectant. What can she do?

img by Tildae @ flickr