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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook

like drowning above water.
Trial Solanis 
Taivas the Hopebringer
#1
this is fact not fiction, should have held them in your lungs.
the words I said are spinning, reeling; your wide-eyed dreams weigh a ton.
The whistle of wind and the spatter of rain are all she hears, outside of the murmur of joyous spirits flowing through the lively flora surrounding her... at first.  She is not sure when the voices begin to change, to morph into something unfamiliar and biting in tone.  The spirits no longer hum with harmony, but instead the chatter of vicious teeth and dark thoughts filter through the sound of Drench.

She is not welcome here, this worthless wench.  Taivas pauses to glance around, but sees nothing but a massive flower astride a large, ancient bough in the general direction of the sound.  She keeps walking.

I doubt she brings anything of value to the Rift.

The shaman lets out a soft snort, craning her head about, only to find flora glaring back at her.  The voices become louder.

Ah, the idiot girl finally heard us, it seems.  A gaggle of laugher and cackles.  Took her long enough.

"What would you have me do?" the painted girl lets out into the air, fully aware she might be falling victim to hallucinations and looking frankly insane.

Lend us what gives you strength, a huge, multicolored flower hisses, and see if you can still complete these tasks.

Take the feather of an Asulli of the Rainforest Cliffs to return to us, a blue, thick vine wriggles as it speaks.  Have care or you might kill it.

The last, a bright orange fruit spins about its branch, almost loosing itself from the tree.  Convince another you love them, since you're a blank faced wench.

And with that, a cacophony of laughter breaks out amid the flowers and forest, only to fall silent.
Too silent.

Panic sets in as Taivas realizes the familiar hymns of the earth have also failed to return, leaving her tugging toward the invisible lifestream without success.  She cannot summon spirits.  She cannot be calmed by their ethereal whispers.  She cannot gauge the environment or history based on their temperment.  She is alone and weak.

The shaman's eyes flit about with all the colorful flora still glaring at her through the rain, and the memory of their laughter resonating in her ears.  The moonlit girl stands starkly alone for the first time since arriving here in the Rift.

What now?
taivas.


[ ooc - Taivas is meeting her first Trial requirement: "Destroy that which you use for strength."
She has lost her connection to the spirits for the duration of her trial!  Anyone may feel free to reply.  <3 ]
Miin
#2
beyond visions of wretched smiles and the dread that they've befriended
Mid Drench, 1174.
Miin encounters the moon in Solanis.

A sloth moving through colorful forests in dim lighting and rain, her small hooves drowned out in cacophony of droplets rushing toward the floor.  Leaves and petals of a myriad of colors contrast the dull exterior of the strangely stretched maiden of white and black.  Ambling slowly toward the fallen piece of the moon, a silent mystic with four eyes radiating an air of madness.

Laughter draws her attention, the kind of raucous glee only drawn from sadistic intentions.  Something in her heart yearns to see the misfortune of another, see the misery usurp their once chipper features.  The other pieces are drawn by curiosity, for the rainforest rarely laughs like she.

From shadows behind massive petals of a vibrant flower, Miin watches the other for a few moments.  While the small girl makes no glorious show of emotion, her eyes dart about, as if looking for something lost.


"Gone, lovely," she coos, still masked by the flower and plants for several moments before stepping carefully out.  "Lost some place you can't see, I think."  She giggles, the sound strange childlike and innocent despite the full grown size of her body.  Her limbs look unhealthy and thin, though, perhaps like a foal's gangly too-long legs... or maybe that of a spider.  She turns her faces to look at the girl shining like a gentle moon in the shadows of Solanis, her black eyes brimming over with manic joy.

"Best not to spend much time worrying," she sings, her voice shrill and high pitched in the melody for a brief moment.  "It gives and takes endlessly, lovely."

All three maws stretch into a twisted grin, which flickers away into a neutral expression, but her eyes remain happy in a menacing manner.

"Might as well do as the flowers told you."
""
miin
Taivas the Hopebringer
#3
this is fact not fiction, should have held them in your lungs.
the words I said are spinning, reeling; your wide-eyed dreams weigh a ton.
The voice startles the softhearted girl. Only the slightest exhale goes to show for it, though, and the quick turn of her head in the direction of the sound. Hiding behind cover, the new arrival is not immediately visible. Still, Taivas watches warily, expecting the flowers to burst into laughter again or insult her further.

Instead, a horrifying creature slides out from behind the strange beauty of the flower.

A face framed with halves of another, four eyes staring directly at the shaman, and not an ounce of sanity to be found anywhere on them. The girl takes a cautious step backward, turning to face this strange thing walking toward her. The body is one that is equine, certainly, but the figure is distorted, long, and, frankly, distrubing to see.

Lost some place you can't see, I think.

Taivas wonders briefly if the mare can read minds, for she seemed to cut straight to her immediate thoughts moments ago. Suddenly, the lady begins to sing - not the gentle choruses raised to the skies in her former home, but broken and high pitched squeal of a song. One ear flicks back on her skull, trying to get away from the abrupt and sharp sounds. Smiles form on all three of the mouths at the bottom of her illformed face, as she gives her last piece of advice. Might as well do as the flowers told you.

The shaman takes a moment to gather her wits and thoughts, reminding herself of Roscorro, the fearsome yet sweet tempered giant. She had reacted poorly during their first meeting, yet he had become one of her friends. Perhaps, this mare might also hold potential to be friendly and kind... though, the expressions on her faces make the girl nervous.

"Do you mean the Rift itself gives and takes?"

Finally, she managed to formulate a question that would not be directed to the odd appearance of her company.
taivas.
Miin
#4
beyond visions of wretched smiles and the dread that they've befriended
Miin is flatly disappointed by the lack of response from the pallid colored mare.  A scowl forms on one of my maws, but the rest hold the same sadistic glee as before.

She wanted dramatic expression.  Fear.  Disgust.  All the darker parts of the mortal heart.
She wanted to memorize the agony of the mind on the faces of all she met.

This girl was useless.

The soft pale glow of her coat is pretty, though, and Miin wants to take a closer look... maybe too close.  Her dark eyes slip over the frame of the shaman with deft interest, seeking the fibers of her soul, the history.  Another kindly, smiling face appears in her mind, but instead of a dull shine, this one is radiant like the sun.  A hiss escapes from one maw as she withdraws from the vision with a single word - Onni.

"A mother's child carries her gifts," the crazed mystic swoons, her crown dancing precariously atop her sickly thin neck.  The chime of countless beads rings in the air, along with the softly falling rains.  "Do you miss her, lovely?"

The tone is almost soft.  Almost.

Then, the old bird remembers she heard a question float from the little moon's lips a few moments before.  She tilts her head, stepping closer and completely ignoring the distance the other tried to create with cautious steps back.  "The Rift, as you call her...  Hmph!" she sighs dramatically, her faces all wearing a different shade of displeasure.  "The pretty one takes and gives gifts, yes.  The pretty one."

From the leather satchel, a card emerges.  The card floats in front of Miin's face, glowing with a strange, eerie aura.  Upon the face of the card is a beauty of all white, inexplicably hovering above the surface of the world.  Inscribed at the top of the card is "XXI".  The surface glimmers in the dull light, and then shows, quite violently, the destruction of the Scint River, which once resided in the Rift.  It's accuracy of events is questionable, since Miin only arrived to the scene after the river had been torn from the Rift. After the vision, the card slides back into the satchel without warning.

"Destruction is the natural end, lovely, and the pretty one specializes in it.  She has been destroying and restoring this world for decades," the statement ends with a nasty chuckle of delight.  "Just like the lands, the living suffer the same fate.  Yes, yes, lovely.  The pretty one destroys and rebuilds those she thinks are weak."

Her black eyes all shift to the pale face of the mare, looking for some sort of reaction, likely to be disappointed.

"Tell Miin, lovely, what made you her new target?"
""
miin
Taivas the Hopebringer
#5
this is fact not fiction, should have held them in your lungs.
the words I said are spinning, reeling; your wide-eyed dreams weigh a ton.
Ears flicker nervously about Taivas's head as the strange, pale mare's voice becomes a soft, delicate cloud.
A mothers gift... do you miss her, lovely?  Mother.

For a moment, the dark recesses of the shaman's eyes glimmer with sadness, a mournful feeling of loss she could not quite express on the harder features of her face.  Thinking of the family she had left behind in the Fields and how she missed them desperately, the impassive canvas of her face turns slightly blue.  Still, this is likely not what the malevolent spirit beside the girl is seeking.  After all, the moonlit girl takes no notice that the strange mare had no way of knowing her pale glow was inherited from her mother.

"Yes," a single word flows into the air, but is nearly stampeded by the flurry of words as the strange unicorn remembers that Taivas had asked a question.  The tone of the oddly thin mare takes on a whole new shade of black, biting and tempestuous.  The shaman continues to try to make small steps to create distance, but her slinky companion takes no notice, drawing nearer and nearer with each word.

Uncomfortably so.

The odd bird renames the Rift as the pretty one, as if refusing the name Taivas gave the realm.  The shaman holds further questions, though, as the satchel upon the thin shoulder of her company begins to rustle open.  Out of the strange bag, a card, glowing with ephemeral light and malicious energy, slides into the air before her.  Taivas studies the cover art of the small object with great interest, though her face remains bored and unimpressed.  Within the card, a river begins to be torn asunder.

The darkset eyes of the girl widen in surprise, wondering if the cards detailed an actual event, or just the madness of the lost soul before her.  The statement offered after the disturbing cinematic clarifies the thought that the Rift destroyed its own lands.  Miin, as the mare calls herself, also makes the connection that the Rift treats its inhabitants much the same way.  She asks a question, but Taivas has no clear answer.

"I am not sure," uncertainty comes out in the form of blatant honesty.  "Perhaps, she thinks I am weak."  Taivas adopts the strange speaking formality of her company, if only to keep that horrid black expression from her face.
taivas.
Miin
#6
beyond visions of wretched smiles and the dread that they've befriended
Boring, boring, boring.

Miin clicks her tongues against her teeth in distaste.  The mare's reaction is not what our crumbled beauty wants, which is clear from the expression on her faces.  She turns her crown about wildly to the side as the moon girl watches the cinematic on the card, which quickly slides its way back into the satchel.  Bones crack against each other like demented wind chimes as it does so.

Again, the stupid girl responds with a muted answer.  However, it is somewhat interesting that she makes no excuses for her shortcomings.  She does not attempt to push the blame on her circumstances.  She does not mention a failure of her parents to raise her properly.  She claims no such favors, either mortal or mystical, and the crone looks back over her thin shoulder with narrowed eyes.

"You do not seem so weak, lovely," she coos, oddly soft but still just as unstable.  "Weak ones - they lie and they cheat, steal others' power... they do not own their misfortunes or failures.  Only whine or yell until someone rips out their gullet."  A high, sharp laugh crackles from one of her maws suddenly, while the other remain silent.

Sighing, the aging unicorn looks out into the rainforest with distant eyes.  "And they make the best toys."

And with that, she departs, her pace deliberate and slow, with no attempt to look back at the girl.
The birdbrained pegasus didn't make a suitable plaything, at least not for Miin's purposes.

Lucky for her.
""
miin