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Post by brandvandet on Dec 31, 2018 0:45:28 GMT -6
Hello Starborn, and welcome to Serora Plot 702: Games Team Leaders: Jemin Participants: Aliyah, Andine, Eniah, Ianthe, Ouusaldus, Tumbleweed, Yemina. Please keep the following in mind!- Posts must be a minimum of 175 words. There is no maximum!- No strict order is enforced, but there must be at least two posts between your own character's.- No god-moding or reading characters' minds (unless your pony is a literal telepath, anyway)
- Always get consent before harming another character!- Your team is precious. Try to interact with everyone. <3- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'D
Prompt: Someone has to watch the kids, even in this near paradise. After months of confinement here, even Jemin has been asked to help out. With a gaggle of teenagers, young adults and children, anyone that could possibly be entertaining has been pressed into service. Perhaps they could play a game? Location: Oasis Time of Day: Twilight You do not have to wait for your leader to post!
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Post by Zookcan on Jan 3, 2019 17:44:38 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
  
________________________________________________
Figures while everyone else is busy, he gets stuck with the rest of his peers. What else was new, to a boy who had once been a watchmen over the many of his master's offspring? A horse who sheltered his dignity ( the best that he could, that is, ) Eniah liked to see himself as above games. He was thirteen, still growing but able and mature! Or at least, he saw himself as that.
Inner gripes and complaints aside, however, the fire-pelted colt would not openly argue with the fact that he had been rounded up with some of the young folk and presented with the opportunity to relieve some pressure. His guardian, Wosil, was far outside the barrier, and possibly far away. Unfortunately, Eniah knew just what fate would await the stallion if he were to be caught by Aodhian Chevaliers. The colt kept his secretive past hidden under the blue cloth of his shawl, with the scars and the dragon burned onto his shoulder.
Comfortably he kept himself beside Tumbleweed, and close to Ianthe, one of the two horses whom he could reach out to in this lonely world. Their company had provided him with some relief from the constant pressure, and the weightful feeling of hopelessness that lingered in his chest every moment his eyes fixed onto that barrier. At least he could take the opportunity to hide behind one of them if need be. His companion kestrel sits on his withers, vainly preening.
Brows furrowed over sky blue eyes, Eniah waits patiently, but inwardly groans with each second he waits for these games to begin. One question lingers in his mind: Is Jemin any good with kids?
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Word Count: 280
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Post by lovellatorendo on Jan 3, 2019 17:46:38 GMT -6
LovellaTorendo as Andine [post 1 | word count 300+]:
It had been a hectic day under the hot desert sun. Andine still isn't sure how she ended up responsible for watching seven children all by her lonesome self. That was almost unheard of in normal times but, as evidenced by the tent camp and the sealed oasis tunnel, these certainly are not normal times. Mother promised that it was just for today and that others would come to take over before sunset. Those promised others were late. With a heavy sigh the sixteen year old turned to take another head count. Three younger siblings, two cousins and two... honestly she had no idea who the last two were or where they'd come from. Anyone under ten years old who wandered into Andine's line of sight got an unofficial eye kept on them though so the two unknown youngsters had been part of her count all day long. Coming up with the correct number of heads she relaxed a little and resolved to remain patient until the relief force arrived.
Her thoughts wandered momentarily toward the solid oasis wall, the wall that really shouldn't be that solid. On some days thinking of it made her feel safe but on most it just made her worry more about the members of her family that were not present on her side of that wall. Suddenly a rock whistled buy just short of hitting her right in the muzzle. With a grunt she turned back to the, um... charges.
"Alright, which one of you threw that?"
Her narrow eyed gaze meets with a quickly emptying space and her twitching ears with squeals of laughter added to the patter of scattering hooves as the whole troop scrambles to hide.
"Desert dust! Don't you lot ever get tired? Fine then... 1... 2... 3... 4... 5! Ready or not, here I come!"
Sure she'd maybe cheated a bit on the count but they had tried to hit her with a rock. As she starts after them she spots the approach of others. She can't tell yet who they are but they look to be her own size and larger which seems promising.
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Post by taebun on Jan 4, 2019 8:06:45 GMT -6
Tumble | 16 | Windracer
Babysitting. Tumble shook some sand from his mane as he stood at his faithful post by his closest friend's side. He knew Eniah most probably would want to be anywhere but here, away from the responsibility that was handed to them to not only watch but entertaining their fellow Seroran youths. Normally the teen Windracer wouldn't have batted an eye at the idea of playing games all day but his usually bright demeanor was masked by a cloud of worry and anxiety because he wasn't with his family. Ehren had been summoned elsewhere and to Tumble's dismay, so had Tito. He wasn't the type of individual to mull over every possible scenario that could happen with his loved ones out of sight, but it was nearly impossible not to have some kind of worry. At the very least he was relieved to be here amongst a handful of faces he knew. As Andine's voice stood out momentarily amongst the giggles and laughter of the younger children, Tumble turned his attention towards the older adults in the group. Was it really necessary for him to be stuck here when there were two capable adults that could tend to this rather unruly flock? A huff was all that Tumble could manage, his long ears flicking at every warm breeze that blew over them. After several minutes he couldn't help but to try and stifle a yawn, which was interrupted by a sharp 'ow' from himself as Bek, his small roadrunner companion, pecked insistently at the back of his ear. Having been rudely interrupted from his thoughts Tumble carefully raised his feathered friend from his shoulders and placed him on the ground. Several of the younger foals had noticed and almost immediately bounded over to greet the long legged bird. "Gentle play only." He told them carefully, lowering his head to speak to them as a smile finally turned up onto his face. "And no feather pulling, please. I'd be very happy if he didn't come back bald, okay?" Tumble's words of caution received several giggles of amusement before he was answered with a simple 'okay!' before Bek had set off on a sprint, calling for the children to follow him to which they did, playfully bounding after him and spraying sand behind them. Maybe this couldn't be as terrible of a time as he had thought.
Posts: 1 | Word Count: 402
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jan 5, 2019 4:30:08 GMT -6
He was no model of Seroran virtue but Jemin had been on rather good behavior, all things considered.
Since the Oasis had sealed - this turfen prison they called a sanctuary - he’d spent his days evading repercussion, his lanquidity interspersed by impromptu violin performance in the event that someone went through the effort of dragging him from his day drinks. He hadn’t goaded any disputes (not any that weren't entirely called for, save for the other few that’d been just for fun) and hadn’t infringed on any of the laws of the land. Just once. Maybe twice. Overall, he’d say he’d been alright. On the ‘down low’.
Perhaps, with the new job, he had credibility on the line.
More likely, he simply didn’t entertain the idea of having nowhere to scramble should things go to shit.
And so it was with grit-teeth reluctance that he’d been coerced by smiles too big and the persistent urge to ‘chip in’, cornered into a gaggle of the herd’s youth. They were a self-sufficient bunch, as old as his own child and anything younger, split into cliques based upon familiarity. A few were content to run exhausting circles. Another couple were terrorizing either a mop or a small bird, while the oldest among them watched over the procession with an innate sense of responsibility. Some hurled dirt. Some tried doggedly to braid his tail when they thought he wasn’t looking.
Beyond the children he recognized the hulking silhouette of Ouusaldus - far enough away that he couldn’t gauge the warrior’s expression, but still too close to offer any comfort.
He attempted to play it off, leaning a shoulder and wither to the cool valley wall. Twilight had stained the scene in bruised blue and purple, and frankly he was tired. Tired and ready to skimp. There was better company to be had at this hour and with only one other adult in the vicinity, surely it wouldn’t be too hard to get everyone to turn a blind eye.
A shriek from his right - a child trying to pick up a snake with a stick - solidified his resolve.
“Alright… kids! Gather up! No, don’t eat that, could be poiso - you know what, never mind. And you, drop the snake - drop it - oh, fuck, like I care. Keep it. Get over here before I turn gray.”
He smoothed back his forelock, indeed concerned that it might be going white. The children and teenagers proved difficult to gather and even harder to keep still, but eventually he deemed the audience to be attentive enough.
The musician smiled, sharp. Begrudging.
“Let’s play a game.”
Jemin - Serora - Creator P #1 | WC 441 |
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Post by PaganStars on Jan 5, 2019 14:38:12 GMT -6
Ouusaldus Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
  
x | x Relaxing under the shade of a luscious tree, Ouusaldus had quietly dragged his whetstone down the crest of his axe, sharpening the blade with keen precision. He had removed the staff, the wooden and leather wrapped pole resting next to him as he had focused on the darkened metal, the tip already shine and ready to pierce should anything come to close. It calmed his mind, his soul.
Being trapped inside the Oasis had been slowly driving many mad. They had each other, their families and friends he supposed, but he could tell that these horses were used to their wide open spaces, their life of travel and exploration. He couldn’t blame them, but being held up in the Aerie for months on end, for years and years had made him used to the whole “hiding in one place” kind of thing.
It was the fact that he felt so useless that made his skin itch, his feathers ruffle. He was a warrior through and through, hardened through years of training and mercenary work, the work of the flock and those he called comrades. Sitting here, under the shade sharpening his axe. Ouusaladus felt like anything other than a warrior. He sighed, eyes flicking up to look as Jemin herded the group of children towards himself. The other reason he was currently away from his tent.
He was close enough that he could hear them, and them hear him, so when Jemin suggested a game the dark stallion had risen an eyebrow and slowed his whetsone. He smirked ever so slightly “How about truth or dare? Or maybe a story from old uncle Jemin” his deep voice had called, as gravelly as usual.
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Post by SagaWolf on Jan 6, 2019 12:53:11 GMT -6
Ianthe
the Folk
Ianthe wasn’t in the mood to deal with children, in fact she wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone really, aside from close friends and maybe her direct family. She was having a bad day, constantly pondering if sealing the Oasis had been the right thing to do, if it wasn’t just the lesser of two evils. There was no space in here, at least not space as she needed it, and there were even more responsibilities being passed around than usual. Work which should help take her mind off of things but instead gave her space to worry and sulk.
Usually watching over the little ones was one of her cherished activities, but today it was just, ugh, such a bother, something she’d mumbled quite a few times to Eniah and Tumble, fishing for sympathy and support. They would be used to her mood swings by now but that didn’t make them easier.
The children screeched and the children played, someone found a snake and a stick and that woke up Ianthe as she set off towards the little devil briskly. While Jemin barked orders which were hardly heard, Ianthe wrestled the stick and snake from the child, spearing her wings ‘intimidatingly’, which send a handful of the small ones screeching towards Jemin. She dumped snake and stick in a bush and then joined the gathering, mock biting at the little troublemaker. It was all in good fun, there wasn’t any real anger to detect from the rainbow unicorn, and the kids simply loved the ‘danger’.
Herded together and with ideas for games being tossed around in the air, Ianthe parked her butt unceremoniously in the sand, using a wing to gently fan herself. Ouusaldus’ words got her attention and she smirked crookedly at Jemin.
“I heard old uncle Jemin has all sorts of appropriate stories for little ones, quite the storyteller he is! Wouldn’t you all want to hear what incredible tales he has for you? “ she asked the kids, excitement laced into her words and hopefully bleeding into the little ones. A story meant a bit of a break for the older overseers and Ianthe really wanted to do nothing.
Word count: 364 | Post: #1
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Post by Kytte on Jan 6, 2019 19:11:49 GMT -6
 She hated it. Hated being here when she could be up there in the sky, the sky that was her birthright. Yemina had taken to the aging potion a lot more violently than her twin. Although Aliyah had come out of her shell and was more talkative, Yemina was ready to wage the next war herself. Hormones and cramped spaces and nowhere to go meant she was a lot more volatile, energetic and hard to keep still. Nights and days passed here in the Oasis and the twins had found themselves in a very awkward place. The foals they once played with were now far younger than them, and the older teenagers that looked down upon them now of equal height. Yemina did not take well to this new in-between place.
There were many in this place, many whom although they had been entrapped here with, had never really met. Yemina looked around and sighted a few familiar faces, most notably Ianthe who had the most splendid plumage Yemina had ever seen. As a filly, she had looked with awe and wonder, but now at an older age, she looked on with a new added feeling. One she was not too sure about yet. Yemina smirked as the younger colts and fillies bickered or rolled about tossing rocks and trying to rid themselves of any unkempt energy.
Yemina wanted dearly to play, move, do something exciting but there were very few close to her age. The mention of stories from the one called Ouusaldus bored her to the core. Yemina was far more interested in how he looked. He was clearly forged from battle, a hide littered with scars. But perhaps a story would suit the moment well, enough to keep the smaller ones distracted whilst she could get to know those closer to her age a little better. Shyly, Yemina walked up to the one called Ianthe and spoke softly “Would you really prefer story time over a game?” She chuckled in jest and introduced herself “I’m Yemina. But I guess you may have seen me when I was their age…”
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Post by Kytte on Jan 6, 2019 19:56:20 GMT -6
 Aliyah, unlike her sister, had taken well to the aging potion. Although still shy, she grew surer of herself every day. With this new-found maturity, came an increasing sense of calm. Aliyah worried for her sister and was seemingly the only force that could calm her. But in turn, Yemina was easily the force that quickened her. It gave her energy and life as they had always done to each other in their youth. Complimented. But now things had changed, Yeshua and Adonis had given them both an aging potion – fearful of what might happen when and if they were ever freed from this Oasis. How could two newborn fillies ever hope to survive in a war-torn land. Although confident in her ability to help others in any way she could, there was still a sense of doubt and shyness that overtook her. Here she stood, no longer with her peers but above them. The younger fillies and colts that she would muster the courage to meet were now far apart from her. Different.
She had always been told to be cautious of the one who was now clearly overlooking the group. Aliyah remembered the foul bickering and battles that occurred between Adonis and Jemin and although she was far too young or scared to understand the full grasp of the situation, a deep reluctance still rang within her. A learned behaviour. Anxiously, Aliyah looked over to Yemina who was clearly distracted by the one with the magnificent feathers, looked around to some of the others. Most of the younger horses when Aliyah was a filly scared her, and now they stood as equals. As the energy built around her, she could not help but feel a little uneasy. A game? She did not want a game, she just wanted a moments calm. Space.
The one with the deep voice mentioned a story. The bright feathered one spoke in agreement of a story. Aliyah nodded and spoke softly to the one with the deeper voice “Do you have any stories...er…….?” She had heard his name once but it was difficult to muster. “My name is Aliyah”
She was clearly trying to avoid any sort of interactions with Jemin.
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Post by SagaWolf on Jan 6, 2019 20:13:13 GMT -6
Ianthe
the Folk
Ianthe smirked and shook her head some when a voice questioned her, ruffling her wings.
“Honestly I’d prefer a good old fashioned race, but that’s probably not the best idea with these little buggers. We’d have them scattered all over the Oasis. And I do wanna see Jemin sweat and try to censor himself, “ she snickered back, turning her head some to catch sight of Yemina, whom she recalled as being much, much smaller. It startled her some, a brief minute twitch of her body, quickly replaced by an air of nonchalance.
“I’m Ianthe and you’ve had the potion! Girl, you grew tall, nice! “ she chirped as if it wasn’t obvious Yemina had aged at a breakneck speed. Then Ianthe dropped her voice down low in case she’d disturb any fantastic tales Jemin might share and leaned towards Yemina a little. “Jemin is terrible with kids, in fact, he’s terrible with any sort of social interaction. I’m just waiting to see how long before Ouusaldus clobbers him in the face again. That’s him over there by the way, “ she said with a smug grin and stuck out her chin at the scarred stallion.
“Buuuut if the kiddos aren’t in the mood for old dusty stories, we could always play Duck, duck, goose. It’s got them contained and spending energy. Me and my siblings used to play it all the time. “
Word count: 233 | Post: #2
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Post by Zookcan on Jan 6, 2019 20:33:02 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
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No, definitely not good with children. Jemin's efforts are laughable at best, and cringe-worthy at worst. This was like a playdate at his old master's villa; children of various ages, romping and gallivanting down the halls, smashing valuables and playing mischievous pranks on unsuspecting horses, himself included. Eniah had had his fair share in babysitting kindlings, and he had hoped he would never have to do it again in his young life. The colt watched as Ianthe tussled with a child who had been too eager to play with a potentially venomous snake, rolling his eyes as similar memories flood into thought.
The grit flying off of Tumbleweed's pelt stuck in hie eyes, and he had to take a moment to clean them from sight before flashing a disgruntled look up at his friend. Out of everyone in this group, Tumble and Ianthe were probably the only two he felt comfortable expressing disdain and indignance in front of, an emotion that he knew would have been met with admonishment in the face of Aodhian nobles. His ear flicks back towards Sol, his familiar and companion, as the kestrel remarks something in his own tongue. "Poor bird best run fast, lest he'll be plucked to death by those fledglings, that's for sure. Wouldn't trust them one bit." Eniah chuckles at this.
"I don't know, Tumble. You're sure they'll be gentle with Bek?" He translates, a cautious smile gracing his lips. His words expose some of his softer side briefly, before it retreats itself back into a stoic hide. With silent contemplation, Eniah turns his gaze thoughtfully toward Ouusaldas, who perhaps, was the most interesting character out of all these strangers to him. The stallion was covered in scars and wielded an axe that has probably seen bloodshed. Back home, Eniah had always been jealous of the warriors and pit fighters who bore scars on their pelts, because they had won them out of glory and battle -- not pain and misuse like he has. But now, he was just intrigued; what stories did this mysterious stallion have to tell?
The colt would have stared at him for a noticeably long time, when a new voice shook him back to his reality. A newcomer who he had not seen before, roughly Ianthe's age but with a mane of silver and wings of violet, had approached the older filly in an attempt to socialize. At this, Iathe had suggested a simple game of duck-duck-goose.
"...I think I'll pass..." Eniah returns quietly, and folds his legs underneath him to lay in the warm sand. Although the colt was barely even thirteen, sometimes he felt like he were seventy.
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Word Count: 442
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Post by taebun on Jan 8, 2019 19:46:51 GMT -6
Tumble | 16 | Windracer
A snicker tickled the colt's lip at his younger friend's warning, partially agreeing that he may be right. Tumble turned his ears towards the sound of excited laughter and squeals and let out a sharp, long whistle. It was only a few moments before his feathered companion scrambled back up onto his shoulders in a flurry of feathers and angry squawking. Tumble could barely hold back his own laughter which earned him a few angry pecks to his back. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry, Bek." He mused, ears flicking towards his companion and offering an apologetic smile. "But come on, you could've outrun those wet-nosed kids any day." With his bird settled on his back Tumble's attention turned towards the others in their party. He already knew Eniah and was the closest to him compared to everyone here. There was Ianthe, Tito's elder sister who he was surprised to see. It was difficult to hide his troubled expression as his gaze rested on her beautifully colored feathers for a long moment. How could she be here while her younger brother was sent elsewhere? Was Tito safe where he was? Tumble exhaled a sigh through flared nostrils, shaking his head as he dropped his eyes towards the sand beneath him for a few seconds before raising his head to see if he was able to recognize the others. He would have to put his trust and faith in Alya that his loved ones were safe. Tumble's gaze found two other pegasi whom were amongst the few he did not recognize. Normally he would've been thrilled to be in the company of such a number of them but he wasn't in the most uplifting mood today. His ears managed to catch the mention of games and...stories. "Storytelling?" His thoughts escaped through his voice and his smile disappeared as he let out an annoyed, childlike groan. "These kids have too much energy for stories." Tumble muttered more to himself. He knew he didn't exactly have any ideas to offer as an alternative but anything was better than sitting still and listening to one of the adults talking on and on for the gods knew how long.
Posts: 2 | Word Count: 371
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Post by PaganStars on Jan 9, 2019 0:55:45 GMT -6
Ouusaldus Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
x | x Head bowed once again and eyes trained on his axe, Ouusaldus continued to slowly bring the whetstone against the metal, ears still trained on the group before them. He could hear the conversation between Ianthe and Yemina, eyes glancing up to regard the twin pegasi for a moment. The thought of an aging potion had crossed his mind numerous times, late night conversations with Aisling as they had watched their young daughter sleep. Sighing inwardly, Ouusaldus shook the thought away and let his mind focus on the conversation.
Ianthe’s bright tone and words caused him to snort in laughter, shaking his head ever so slightly at what she had implied. Yes, his last conversation (which had been months ago, he could hardly tolerate the stallion) had not exactly ended well, nor in favour of either of them. But they were trapped together and so Ouusaldus had let his rage simmer and boil away, as he had been taught to do. There was no point relying on the past. Looking up, Ouusaldus caught the gaze of Aliyah, ears flicking towards her as she questioned him.
Lifting his head, Ouusaldus smiled softly, his scars pulling at his eyepatch (he had been doing well at letting his scars be seen, the scars that marked his past and used to be his shame) “I have many stories, but I fear that some may be too... scary for the little ones,” his voice mocked a whisper, fanning his wings ever so for dramatic effect “I come from far away lands, you see. Sedo has only been my home for a little while.”
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jan 9, 2019 1:31:16 GMT -6
Shepherded by the older teenagers and lured by the promise of activity, they clustered in close, too close for Jemin to move much in any direction. He didn’t hate children, per say - not in the way he hated broken violin strings or community service - but it did take a large sum of dwindling patience to manage this task. It felt increasingly like the latter annoyance.
Suggestions had begun to be passed about, one child, one young adult to another. He was startled to hear Ouusaldus’s baritone finally join the mix, caught sight of the white of his subtle grin and the glint of his axe (his axe). Swallowing bile, he managed a dry snort. “On the contrary, I’m feeling - “ he grunted, felt a tug at his hind leg, “ - young as ever.”
To his further startlement (and more poignant exasperation), Ianthe piped up in agreement to the suggestion of a story. He recognized her easily from the prism feathers and that wide, wide smile - a smile like she was privy to an inside joke. Donned in similar bright plumage was the council schlump’s twins, both a fair bit taller than he remembered them being. Perhaps that was simply how age worked. The quiet one, the wallflower with the skittering eyes - he watched as she approached Ouusaldus and, craning his long ears, caught the gist of her question. Ouusaldus had begun to spin a tale.
Now that - that was perhaps the brightest idea he had heard. It’d distract the whole lot of them and he could merely slip away.
“If they can handle your face, I’m sure they can manage your stories.”
It was easy to feel emboldened when one had a small sea of watchful children in front of them.
Waiting not for permission and trying deftly not to trip over the little ones, he ushered them to their new item of awe. There was a certain expectant joy on their faces; scrambling to plop down near the scarred Aquorian. Two boys did not share this enthusiasm, and Jemin gestured to them, with a cock of his chin, that they should join their fellows. “Scoot.”
The less roving eyes, the better.
Jemin - Serora - Creator P #2 | WC 370 |
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Post by Zookcan on Jan 13, 2019 0:48:44 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
________________________________________________
Childish though it was, Eniah couldn't help but let out an airy snicker. An airy snicker that soon burst into a bubbly laugh as Bek came squawking away from the team of squealing children, feathers bristling. Sure, the colt took pity on the bird but seeing Tumble receive a scolding from it earned more than just a small chuckle. Perhaps it was coming from his trouble-making rival that he could laugh in such a way. However, such a genuine expression of amusement from him would be made very brief, as a trio of the rambunctious foals, probably half is age, look expectantly toward his withers. He immediately rose up. He knew they were eyeing his own bird, perched on the rim of his shawl.
"His turn! His turn, his turn!" They all cheered, eagerly trying to reach up. Instantly, Eniah felt his heart sink and his ears flatten reluctantly. In the household of Cabrera-Soleil, he gave in to the commands of his master's children, no matter how much he hated it. But gods, if he gave up his familiar for their entertainment, he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it ( and no way did he trust Sol with these kids! )
"I swear, don't you dare surrender me, I'm not a foal's toy!" He heard his kestrel screech. "Uh, Sol isn't for being played with." Eniah translated, lifting his hoof up with clear reluctance. He almost wants to gnash his teeth for denying such a request, as simple as it was. His old servile ways proved to be tough habits to break. He felt Sol leap off from his withers to perch next to Bek. Tumbleweed was taller and therefore much harder to push around.
The fire-pelted colt would hardly have time to hear the ever brief exchange between Aliyah, Ouusaldus, and Jemin before the latter of the trio slipped out a final quip: "If they can handle your face, I’m sure they can manage your stories.”
Feeling reminded of his own scarred hide, Eniah couldn't help but feel the corners of his lips twist in faint resentment. He cannot help but imagine that the pegasus had earned his burns through an epic and noble cause.
With a grunt, he passes one last glance toward the mule before turning his head toward the stallion with the axe and whetstone. Pulling his own staff out from its holder, Eniah lets out a slow sigh and walks toward him. Sol would take off from Tumble's withers and perch himself in the tree just above them, where he could look down upon his companion, but be far out of reach of the eager foals. Though he didn't admit it, Eniah very much had interest in what Ouusaldus had to share, and if he could find any sort of sympathy in him.
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Word Count: 470
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Post by PaganStars on Jan 13, 2019 22:13:30 GMT -6
Ouusaldus
Skirmisher Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
x | x Rolling his eyes, Ouusaldus snorted as Jemin began to herd the little-er ones towards those who were already gathered around himself. Jemin’s words made his ear twitch and his eye gazed coolly at Jemin “Oh yes, as if your stinky hide isn’t already sending them running,” he retorted back, smiling at the giggles it earned. Shifting his wings, Ouusaldus carefully sheathed his axe head as those around him settled, tucking it behind his body incase at wandering souls decided to play with the dangerous weapon.
It was strange now, to sit idly yet comfortably as the children and teenagers gathered around him, eyes no doubt roaming over his numerous scars and eyepatch. A little over a year ago Ouusaldus would have flinched and secluded himself if anyone were to see his scars, his shame from so long ago. Aisling had helped him work past it, helped him peel the layers back. But it was a long journey and even now, Ouusaldus felt the damaged skin tingle and almost burn, the need to pull his scarf up bubbling ever so slightly.
But Ouusaldus merely shifted his wings and smiled at the children, ears pushed forward “What kind of story would you all like?”
Post 3 | 226
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Post by Kytte on Jan 14, 2019 2:34:32 GMT -6
Yemina chuckled at the thought of several small colts and fillies peppered across the oasis whilst a crass and dishevelled Jemin tried to keep everything calm and amicable. It seemed and sounded impossible but stranger things had happened before. Yemina nodded at Ianthe’s remark “Yeah, I guess Adonis and Yeshua thought it better this way. That we might have a better chance to survive whatever was to come.” She smirked “Me personally? I’m thankful it happened and so ready to take the fight to whoever these people are that have locked us here.” She stomped her hoof on the ground “The sky is ours and we can’t even taste it!” Yemina was easily worked up by the topic of her captivity. How could everyone stand idling by when a flock of angry Pegasus could clearly take on the enemy? Yemina had an awful lot to learn.
By the time Yemina could act on Ianthe’s suggestion of a game, Ouusaldus had spoken of what kind of story the children wanted to hear. Ever since she saw him, she was curious. He was often seen tending to his weapons and nursing a many scars across his hide. He had seen battle, and she surely could learn a lot from him. Maybe he could even teach her to fight. Although she still clearly had enough energy and wanted nothing more than to race and whip around, Ianthe seemed keen on the story and it was clear the Yemina was trying her best to impress the brilliant feathered girl.
“Tell us a battle story!” she shouted out from the background. Aliyah would surely disagree.
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Post by Kytte on Jan 14, 2019 2:50:48 GMT -6
Many of the children burst with energy or expressed disinterest with the idea of a story. But Aliyah knew that it was what was best for the group. She thought back to the stories that her fathers had told her. They were often heroic tales of Alya that Yeshua gladly told or mysterious, gentle stories of cascade which Adonis often spoke of quietly to Aliyah. Yemina was easily bored of the stories that Aliyah liked, and was more interested in hearing about the curling seas or booming thunderstorms. Aliyah’s ears picked up as she watched Yemina protest loudly about the situation and it was clear she was trying to show off to the colourful one.
Her ears perked up at the mention of his origins. Although she was less interested in hearing about a gruesome battle story, she did wish to learn more of the world were he was from. Speaking softly, Aliyah addressed the large dark Pegasus littered with scars “I would like to know where you are from! What kind of far-away lands are you from?”
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Post by taebun on Jan 18, 2019 17:34:36 GMT -6
Tumble | 16 | Windracer
The teen's eyes settled on the largest horse in the group and he couldn't help a cold shiver shoot up his spine, raising the small hairs along his back. Tumble stayed rooted on the spot he stood while the rest of the group, along with the children, began to gather towards Ouusaldus, drawn in by the intriguing mention of stories of his travels and scars. Although he wanted to do anything else than sit still he preferred staying close to those familiar to him and now it seemed that even Eniah's curiosity had been caught. Bek made a quiet, low sound at his ears, a small encouragement to give his owner that extra push to finally follow after his friend. Tumble was incredibly reluctant, not being able to push aside the unease that twisted in his gut at the stallion's heavily scarred appearance. Of course there would be stories behind them. Tell us a battle story! What kind of far-away lands are you from? Tumble's long ears twitched as he forcibly kept them from pinning against his head at the questions. The two older fillies, sisters he had assumed, were clearly not hesitant in voicing their interest. He stopped at the edge of the group, sky blue eyes warily resting on Osuusaldus. It was unusual for him to feel uncomfortable around Seroran's but this war had been nothing but a cause of anxiety for him. Tumble would admit that sure, perhaps he was a little curious about where this warrior had come from, but he wasn't sure if he truly wanted to know. If there was any chance he was formally a Vagabond he wasn't sure if he would have it in him to sit and listen for very long. The subject still struck an incredible amount of fear and the memories connected to the lawless equines wrought his head with throbbing aches that made his mind feel numb. He looked away for a moment as he took in a breath to calm his nerves. He let his mind wander elsewhere before turning to face the others. Through his anxiety Tumble thought of Ehren, remembering his words when times like this arose. He was safe here and he had nothing to fear from his fellow Serorans. He would give the story a chance.
Posts: 3 | Word Count: 391
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jan 20, 2019 11:17:27 GMT -6
Ouusaldus’s retort didn’t quite knock a notch off what was left of his ego, but it did warrant a crude tail-flag. The flash of teeth, a returned smile that was none too pleasant.
It was with surprising ease that the children became distracted, engrossed by this foreign presence. Just give them something to gawk at, someone’s word to hang on - someone who wasn’t a tiring wash-up - and they’d suddenly been gathered up, neat and tidy. Jemin briefly congratulated himself. Surely, children weren’t so hard after all.
Which was why he figured there’d be no hard feelings when he passed his responsibilities - non permissioned - onto Ouusaldus’s broader shoulders.
“Watch him closely,” he murmured to the nearest onlookers, gesturing to their storyteller with a jerk of his chin. “I’ve heard that Aquorians have forked tongues. Like a snake.”
He passed them a wink - a secret to be kept among them - and watched as they promptly returned their focus to Ouusaldus with renewed attentiveness.
The rest of the children busily pining for tales, the mule took a step back from the far-rear of the group. Then another. It was dark at this time, the off-blue of it seeping into his ruddy complexion. With hooves more quiet than they had any business being, he decided now was his chance to slip away undetected.
Jemin - Serora - Creator P #3 | WC 225 |
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Post by brandvandet on Jan 22, 2019 21:02:20 GMT -6
admin notes As Jemin takes a step, the sound bounces off a nearby wall and throws back at the small group, clear for all to hear.
Like a snake.
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Post by SagaWolf on Jan 23, 2019 9:56:39 GMT -6
Ianthe
the Folk
“Me personally? I’m thankful it happened and so ready to take the fight to whoever these people are that have locked us here. The sky is ours and we can’t even taste it!”
Ianthe tilted her head some at Yemina, chewing on her words for a moment.
"You know we locked ourselves in here, yeah? " she said with a raised eyebrow, knowing well enough that it had only happened because of the attacking Aodhians. She just... hated talking about the war happening out there, of all the unrest and everyone who wasn't shielded in the Oasis, so she needed to shoot the conversation down before it even begun.
As the kids were being herded towards the scarred pegasus, Ianthe stayed behind the group where she could keep an eye on all the small ones, making sure they stayed put and none tried to wander off to go looking for scorpions or whatnot. Ears perked at Yemina's request for a battle story and her sister wanting to know about Ouusaldus. Both were good ideas, both would be entertaining, and as she glanced around to make sure that all were indeed gathered at the stallion, Eniah got a bright smile and Tumble a wink to try and cheer him up. The two fellows seemed a little too far down and depressed for her liking and hopefully, the story would turn that around. Otherwise, she'd have to do something about it and-
Like a snake.
The words startled her immensely, made her jump on the spot and her feathers ruffle. It was the unexpected direction, loud and clear for all to hear, that got her by surprise and had her tapdancing a moment while trying to locate the actual Jemin. Once she did she snorted, flattening her ears just a little and pulling lips into a tight, irritated line.
"The heck was that for? " she huffed, stalking towards him, assuming he was trying to disrupt the storytelling for some dumb, selfish reason, as she'd only caught the words reflected off of the barrier. A blessing no doubt, to throw his voice. She had once admired Jemin for daring to speak his mind always and freely but that had changed swiftly in the last half a year. Especially when they were trying to desperately to protect the Oasis, and all Jemin could do was spit his bile everywhere. Well, she was not gonna let him mess this up.
A-hole...
Word count: 358 | Post: #3
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Post by PaganStars on Jan 23, 2019 13:36:26 GMT -6
Ouusaldus
Skirmisher Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
x | x As the children settled, Ouusaldus had smiled softly and wondered how Prim would have reacted to a story from her father. It wasn’t to say that he had never told her one, no, on the contrary, he told her a story of his and Aisling’s life every night (without some of the messy details) and at this point he was sure that she could react them quite perfectly with the other foals. But she was resting with Aisling today, a cold gently holding her small body down as her mother gently nursed her and kept her comfortable. Having never dealt with a sick child, Ouusaldus had been worrying 24/7 until Aisling had kicked him out and told him to relax for a bit.
A year ago, Ouusaldus would have scoffed at the idea of relaxing and would train instead.
The differences still astounded him, but he was happy as was Aisling, and that’s all that mattered.
So as the children gathered and giggled amongst each other, he thought of which stories he could share with them. Yemina and Aliyah seemed the most eager, questioning and requesting various things. Ouusaldus had smiled, but it had faltered when he heard Jemin’s careful whispering and Ianthe’s own response, his ears flicking back and his face suddenly darkening. He felt anger bubble under his skin and his teke itched to grab his axe and challenge the stubborn fool “At least us Aquorians do not hide away from our own people with false smiles and quick words” he shot back, eyebrows furrowed. Jemin was due for another smack to the head, but he would not do so in front of the children.
“I will tell you a story, children, of my homeland. It is much different from the desert that you have welcomed myself and my family to and I often find myself missing the heavy condensation that saturated the air,” he smiled now at them “But your desert is fine, and your winds are stronger than I have ever experienced. Your people, mine now as well, are hearty and good-willed and even if there are disgraceful dogs amongst you, I am still honoured to be among you all, aside from one.”
Post 4 | 395
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Post by Zookcan on Jan 23, 2019 14:39:21 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
________________________________________________
“Me personally? I’m thankful it happened and so ready to take the fight to whoever these people are that have locked us here.” Yemina's words hit his ears like hot irons and Eniah visibly stiffened for a moment, feeling a taste of bile rise up in his throat at the thought. He doesn't know whether to call her naive or just too optimistic. Out of all the horses in this group, Eniah knew the Aodhians the best -- after all, he spent his entire life living amongst them, ordered by chevaliers and bridled and chained in a slaver's stall. He has even had the fortune of being inside the palace walls, though he didn't recall those memories with great fondness. Eniah doesn't dare speak his mind, but the boy does not believe that these people stood a chance against the armored chevaliers that he had once served. Still, their hope is unbridled. It was almost enough to make him think that maybe the horses of Sedo stood a chance against the Aodhian army.
He keeps himself silent. Eniah was quickly able to note Tumble's apparent hesitance. In the time he has spent with the older colt, he had gained the impression that Tumbleweed was eager and willing, like the two twins that prodded Ouusaldus for information. But for some reason he seemed ... oddly reluctant. Not wanting to intrude, Eniah casts the donkey a long gaze, as though silently inquiring what was wrong. Then he looks to Ianthe for some sort of reassurance. The filly was smiling and winking at them. The look on the colt's face softens a bit -- he does not smile, but he appreciates that she's trying to lighten their spirits a bit.
However, the exchange between Jemin and Ouusaldus snatches Eniah's interest up like a rat in a snake's jaw, with his torn ear flicking and the other tilted toward the scarred stallion. He was from Aquore?! The home of those Talorian savages? From what he had read in books and tomes back in Valore, he had always imagined the Talori to be flea-bitten, mysterious jungle horses, and pirates. Pirates, missing eyes and ears and legs, and spitting all sorts of sailor talk that he knew would get him scolded if he ever spoke. "You're from Aquore? The Talori?"
Like a snake.
Jemin's words echo clearly for them to hear, and immediately, Eniah's ears flatten is dismay. His head swivels toward the mule, and only then does he realize that the horse was trailing away from the group. So, the jackass is trying slip away, is he? The colt thinks to himself, disposition immediately shifting. Eniah didn't believe that Jemin was willing to put in half the effort to keep an eye on them, based on his words. This only seemed to prove his point. "Oh, leave him be, Ianthe!" A bit of his old snark seemed to bubble up from within. He shot a quick criticism in Jemin's direction. "Could you be any more indiscreet trying to slip off?"
But that left him wondering, what kind of fool announces his presence in such a way while trying to wander off?
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Word Count: 526
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Post by brandvandet on Jan 23, 2019 20:07:53 GMT -6
admin notes The sentiment, shockingly, turns against Jemin as his voice bounces back for the whole group to hear. Voices lift after that, most berating the mule. Piecemeal, the acoustics sling part of Ianthe's sentences back at the group.
"yeah. The heck"
The faint sound of earlier laughter follows.
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Post by Blubber-Bun on Jan 25, 2019 16:12:33 GMT -6
At worst, it was a cold shock to have his own voice, slick with swift tongue-in-cheek comment, slung back at him from everywhere and nowhere at once.
At the very least, it was a terrible inconvenience for his attempt at hooky.
He slid to a stop, the whites of his eyes flashing dumbfounded. Logically, he knew that these kids, even if they cared to try (and never mind the fact that he was a good head shorter than a few of the older ones) hadn’t the authority to halt him - but it’d certainly have been easier if he hadn’t been so abruptly exposed; one hoof lifted, tail to the congregation. A deer in headlights. The story paused long enough for Ouusaldus to offer more beratation, for Ianthe to come marching over. Merriment forgotten, her mouth twisted in accusation. A ruddy boy piped up in similar contempt. Jemin could only fumble through the rise of protest, heat rising in his face.
“That - that wasn’t me.” He finally managed, tone incredulous.
No sooner had he spoken did yet another segment of conversation come bouncing back - now, in Ianthe’s youthful voice.
“The hell...” Heartbeat in his ear, he snapped his head back around; eyes slit as a serpent, scanning his darkened surroundings. There was sparse, stringy undergrowth and a smattering of rocks. No culprit in sight. Their corner of the Oasis was sequestered so not to bother the adults of the community - quiet and utterly alone.
“So.”
He clicked his tongue, swallowing his nerves, and swiveled once more on his heels to face the group. Their eyes were wide, their ears craned. While he was mostly unnerved - more startled than he’d care to admit - another small part of him was grateful to avoid more accusations on the matter of his evasion.
“Who wants to go check it out?”
Evidently, he was not eager to volunteer himself.
Jemin - Serora - Creator P #4 | WC 319 |
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Post by taebun on Jan 25, 2019 23:25:15 GMT -6
Tumble | 16 | Windracer
Like a snake.
His long ears twitched at the sound of the voice before his head followed suit. It took several moments before his eyes finally found Jemin, his brow lifting in surprise. That was rather...odd. But before he could open his mouth to speak his attention was instantly grabbed by Ianthe who had questioned him shortly after, the bright colored pegasus steadily approaching him and appearing quite unhappy now that it was clear that the older equine had been meaning to slip away. Tumble's ears swiveled as he turned his head in just about every direction, forcing himself to hold his tongue as the group began exchanging sharp remarks. There was a tension building in the air and it pricked beneath his skin, bringing a dreadful sense of uncertainty. Although it may have only been small comments shot from one individual to the next the context behind the words were making the young windracer uncomfortable. But it also appeared that it wasn't just the mule's voice that had echoed so clearly in their ears - it was Ianthe's too. Amidst the feeling of uncertainty threatening to settle in his gut, Tumble gave one glance back at the group behind him before he started towards Jemin, blue eyes round with a new found interest. "I'll go with you." He said it simply, followed by a small flick of his tail. His feathered companion, Bek, who sat between his shoulders seemed quite displeased at his owner's decision as he ruffled his feathers. "It beats sitting around," Tumble murmured with a huff, not caring too much whose ears his words would reach. He stood a little ways from Jemin once he had approached and faced one side towards the group while his attention was focused elsewhere. There was certainly something curious in their midst and the call for a little adventure had always been something the colt could never resist.
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Post by PaganStars on Jan 26, 2019 1:07:56 GMT -6
Ouusaldus
Skirmisher Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
x | x Ouusaldus had smiled at his remark as he watched the mules face, eyes quickly turning to the children as they began to absorb his story. He had opened his mouth to start once more only to lose his words as laughter echoed around them, as Ouusaldus listened as someone- something spoke while Jemin’s lips stood still. Alarm bells quickly rang in his head and Ouusaldus took count of the children among them as he jumped to his feet. Jemin’s words quickly cemented Ouusaldus thoughts and the pegasus quickly unsheathed his axe “This is no time for games, Jemin” the stallion retorted, moving towards him and from where the voices had echoed behind. It could be someone playing a game, a child not from their group or even another teenager working out frustrations. But this seemed off, more off than the dome that trapped them.
Turning to protest the children coming along, Ouusaldus knew from his own youthful adventures that they would not be sitting still, even if he asked nicely. So Ouusaldus had turned to Tumble and the others, furrowing his eyebrows “Keep your wits about you, this could be someone playing a trick but from what I’ve heard the Oasis is… filled with the unknown.” Turning to gaze at Jemin, the older stallion gave him a stern look. There are kids among us, if any of them get hurt im pinning it on you. He hoped the other stallion got the message.
Post 5 | 266
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Post by brandvandet on Jan 31, 2019 22:56:07 GMT -6
admin notes
"Wasn't me."
It's Jemin's words but the faint breath of a borrowed giggle that is spliced after them turned the incredulous tone to mocking.
"What" plucked from Aliyah, "wits" and it finished in Ouusaldas's tone.
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Post by Kytte on Feb 6, 2019 1:06:31 GMT -6
“You know we locked ourselves in here, yeah?”
‘Speak for yourself, I had no say in it’, Yemina thought to herself. It was true, she had soon after aging, learnt of the scope of the Seroran’s safety plan. Perhaps it was the hormonal surges, the frustration, the insecurity that made Yemina so aggressive, but there was a pure shred of truth in it all; Pegusai should not be grounded. Rather than say something back to Ianthe, she chose to keep quiet as she noticed that the rainbow plumed one was uneasy at the topic. Embarrassed at not being able to impress Ianthe, Yemina desperately looked for an out. She was not alone.
“Like a snake.” Words with no clear origin permeated the group and seemed to bring the beginning storytelling energy to a still. Yemina immediately looked to her twin, who seemed equally startled by what had occurred. Jemin, the one tasked with taking care of the group was trying to escape. Yemina focused, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound, paying no mind to the start of the story. After a few brief moments it occurred again and again, the force plucking words playfully from conversations and words past. “Wasn’t me……what…..wits” the words trickled in varying tones and Yemina furrowed her brow. The purple one wondered…
“It’s…playing with the air…with sound?? Is it Alya???”
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