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Post by ThatDenver on May 25, 2019 17:24:11 GMT -6
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!
- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'D
Prompt: Osulas is but a war-torn crater now, destroyed by a meteorite during the War. Now, however, it is full of life once more, with numerous nomad tents dotting the ragged landscape. Aodhians are here too, remnants of Flamen Lucerys’ escort, and some curious soldiers. The mood in the grounds is mirthful, if not slightly suspicious.
There isn’t exactly plenty to go around, but Serorans have always excelled at making a lot out of very little, and so there all simple treats being passed around, stories being shared, reunions and discussions.
Time to mingle!
Location: The ruins of Osulas
Time of Day: Before noon
Current Weather: Warm and sunny with a cloudless sky. The afternoon promises to be scorching.
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Post by redspaceboyy on May 25, 2019 19:44:14 GMT -6
 Casanova
Seroran Screamer At first, she wanted to cry. And she did, for a little while. Hot, ugly tears spilled down her freckled cheeks, eyes squeezed shut and unable to open until the crackling sobs could slow down. She had been alone for a little over a week now, making her way back to what she once called home in hopes to find some tired Serorans there.
Instead, she saw a meeting being called. Peace, the words sang. She felt overjoyed, but that joy lasted for only a moment. As the treaty of peace was recited to her, her anger rose.
She wanted peace, of course. But this. This wasn't fair. She stared back at the older Fury with a chilling gaze within her wide and glassy eyes. "No." She shook her head. "That isn't fair!" She looked around her. "Why do we need to treat the Aodhians like we owe them something?! They invaded us! They declared war!" That was when the tears began to fall. "I want peace, I long for peace, but watching them walk away with the deaths of our brothers and sisters without even a slap on the hoof?!"
Casanova was young, but she knew what fairness was. She knew that peace was to be had, and she knew who to blame. Her entire home was destroyed, and she now stood in its ashes. Because of them. The year of weary distress was heavy on the Serorans. She could not easily forgive the herd of fire, no matter how tired she was. They had burned down her home.
wc: 259 | post #1 |
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Post by Zookcan on May 25, 2019 21:18:06 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
  
________________________________________________
He has never tasted so much hot iron and fire on his tongue. Blood boiling in his veins, and yet he struggles to stifle the urge to cry. The only reason he had convinced himself to step out here was to search for his guardian again -- maybe, just maybe, he could catch some semblance of that fiery bay pelt. Weeks had passed since word carried that an able Seroran could pass through the barrier with the use of teleportation, but still there was no word of kind Wosil. When the colt was informed that Aodhians were among the crowd, his legs became wobbly and nausea bloomed in his stomach.
The anxiety was overwhelming. He was once a furious, angry child who bitterly accepted fate, but he had been reduced to a coward, wanting nothing more than to return to his tent and hide away from curious eyes. Sadly the crowd had grown thicker since he left. Weaving his way out from the mass of gossiping horses, some of whom mourned the losses of their homes, proved to be harder than before. Others cried out in joy for 'peace' had been reached.
It isn't until he passes by the ruins of a particular household that the world around him seems to come to a pause. The torn ends of his left ears flicked and coincidentally caught the wistful words of a foal and her father, who were lamenting over the ruins of their abode, and something else. "It was right here," the filly, who was far younger than him, whimpered. "Momma was right here. I want momma back...!"
"Shh, shh...Momma will be back soon. They'll give her back..." From how he sounded, the stallion wasn't too hopeful.
'Because they won't.' Eniah gnashes teeth and trots faster, and for a moment, he swears he's lost feeling in his legs. How many months has it been since he wore a bit in his mouth? How many days since he walked within polished marble walls? How many days since he saw other horses like him toil and die in the heat of the sun, all because they had no master? How many? Not even a year's worth? Has it really been that long ago?
Petty. Petty Aodhians. Born with silver spoons in their mouths. They claimed peace but he did not trust them. He knew not to trust them. The boy has seen them, he's seen their ways. He's seen their cruelty, and their kindness. He's been within the palace walls themselves! The boy knew them well enough -- and they took far more than they gave back.
Petty. Disgusting. They don't care. What peace is this? What about the ones they took? What of his kind Wosil? Was he gone? Were they all gone? What of the slaves he left behind? His friends? His mother? Will these horses ever care?
He's trotting faster now, blinded by his own emotions.
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Word Count: 479
Note(s): he's having a panic attack. trauma's rough. |
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Post by taebun on May 25, 2019 23:24:25 GMT -6
Tumble | 16 | Windracer
Peace. Is that what they really achieved? Is that what they were going to call it? The teen could barely keep his attention on the familiar faces on their Seroran officials. The crater surrounding them was too of a haunting reminder of what the threat of war had brought to their lands and his young mind would never ever forget it. On Tumble's face was an expression he rarely wore, a look that was difficult to read with the exception of the hurt and betrayal in his blue eyes. Beneath him his small feathered companion cooed gently and quietly, having detected the young boys legs shift as he was starting to find it hard to sit still. A part of him wanted to scream - one filled with anger and fury as much as despair. But another part of him wanted to cry and he could already feel the prick of tears in the corners of his eyes. He refused to let them run today. With the news of the treaty, Baram stepping down and another new Sultan being appointed, Tumble couldn't help but feel hopeless and more complicated that ever. He was still a child, sure, but he couldn't accept that his people were pulled into a contract of peace on Aodhian terms. Peace and Aodh - those two words didn't belong in the same sentence. He would never trust a proposal from an Aodhian. Tumble turned and walked away from the crowd of Seroran's with his heart heavy in his chest. To some this announcement may have lifted the weight off of their shoulders, but to him it only seemed to make it worse. For once in his life he felt alone. He felt sick. "Bek, let's go." He murmured. Although Tumble felt nothing but defeat, he kept his head high. He grimaced as the unfamiliar smell of Aodhian's reached his nose and all he could do was snort in disgust and shake his head. Whether or not it was rude of him was something he didn't care enough about. His eyes searched for faces, anything to keep his mind off of the enemy that was lurking so freely on their land, in the very heart of Sedo where they're beautiful capital once stood proud. They were the reason it was gone. The reason he could never truly go home again. It was the sudden flash of a familiar coat that caught his attention and almost immediately he broke into a quick jog, his bird skipping after him. "En!" Tumble called out to him, his expression finally lifting into one of relief compared to several minutes prior. "Hey, I didn't see you earlier."
Posts: 1 | Word Count: 451 |
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Post by Artistic Pineapple on May 26, 2019 11:29:40 GMT -6
Zasha & Rook Serora | Fledgling
An avian roar sounds throughout Osulas.
Rook is announcing his presence.
The thunderbird's shadow glides over the ruins below as he arcs his course in a wide circle around what remains of Osulas. From the air, the child is almost impossible to see flying beside him, but her bright green eyes are scanning the coat of every horse present as the two fly closer to the ground. She searched the Oasis for them, searched the desert, the river, the Seer... her parents were nowhere to be found.
They land together on the outside of the crowds. Rook's baritone croaks warn any who consider stepping too close and his great wings stir up a cloud of dust as he settles into a four-legged stance. The domesticated thunderbird hardly bares any semblance to tameness as he glares at the crowd of horses. He can smell Aodhian blood among them and the long feathers on his neck prickle defensively. Zasha lights down beside him, a small smile on her lips in greeting, but a heaviness in her eyes. Her brothers and sisters are around her, but the child chose to come to what remained of the city in hopes to ask something of the Aodhians. She needed to know if they knew what became of her family. Had her parents been captured and sent away? Would they be returned to their home? Why hadn't the Fury who delivered the Terms of Peace message mentioned anything about captured Serorian citizens?
The child's usual sense of optimism is missing as she quietly steps forward through the crowd, past Tumble and Bek, an enraged Casavana, and Eniah. She's searching for the dreaded dragon sigil. Rook's calloused knuckles land on either side of her, protective and threatening at the same time. His head is lowered, eyes level with Zasha's small frame. A low rumble sounds from deep in his chest. It is time to find answers.
"Where are my parents?"
The question is flung at the first Aodhian Zasha sees, her green eyes full of pleading. Rook lingers above, acting as a shade for the child.
His eyes are not pleading.
WC: 361 | Post #1
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Post by marinedoq on May 26, 2019 12:43:05 GMT -6
M I S H A
aodh
... ...
Misha rarely felt out of place. As a chevalier, he could practically be anywhere in Eithne without it feeling weird - it was his duty anyways, to be able to help and keep the people safe. Maybe except for when he had been in the sewers, that hadn't exactly felt like home. However this? This was an entirely new feeling to the chimeric unicorn. In the midst of the scorching heat in Sedo, the chevalier stood proudly by the Flamen Lucerys' side, keeping an eye on what was going on. The herd, Serora, had just gotten the news of the war being over - bringing peace to their herd once more. However, not all seemed happy about the treaty. Most called it unfair. They felt stepped on, overlooked. Misha could understand that. War was a grim thing after all. He didn't fight to kill, but to do what was expected of him. He knew the sting you felt after your family members and brothers in arms died, knew how it felt to not see anyone do anything about it. In any case, in war there was no time for burials.
As much as the chevalier sympathised with the herd he was currently visiting, he knew nothing would heal their wounds except time. Getting to know Tiresias had made Misha less angry with the world, after the news of his heritage. Instead, he started to see it differently. Although he might not feel what others felt, he could learn to understand their struggles. As he looked around, he saw tears being shed and frustration all around. However, he doesn't realize the full extent of what has happened, until he's approached by a small pegasus - too young to be alone, as her question also told him: Where are my parents?
He looked down at her, trying not too feel too uneasy about the Thunderbird staring right at him, with the small filly beneath it. Taken aback for a moment, not knowing what the answer, he thought back on the war. The possibilities were endless, really. Without knowing who her parents were, there was no way he could help. They could have been stolen and sold as slaves to the Aodhian herd. They could have been killed in an attack or gotten lost in a sandstorm, who knew? "I don't know, I'm terribly sorry. Should you want it, perhaps you'd be interested in my assistance in finding them, should they be around nearby?" Offering his assistance, he almost felt the urge to pick her up, take her back to Tiresias and tell him to help her find her parents or find a way to soothe her, should the worst case scenario be true and they were dead. He looked into the Thunderbird's eyes, before eyeing the surrounding area. There really were a lot of horses around, the possibility of them even being here might be slim. It wasn't his problem either, but spending time with Tiresias as well as his pride of being a chevalier took the best of him - his duty was to help, and right now it was peacetime.
... ... Word Count: 374 Post #1 |
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Post by Zookcan on May 26, 2019 13:17:58 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
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Somehow he's lost touch with where he is. He swears he can taste a cold bit in his mouth again, and can hear the leather and buckles swing and jostle around his head while he moved. He swears that his shoulder feels bare, and there is nothing but soft, white silk to obscure the ugly scars on his hide. A few warm tears seem to well up in his eyes, but they feel thick as blood. Maybe they were mixing in with the facepaint.
Out of habit, he chews lightly on his tongue and grinds his teeth like the bit were there. Thank the gods, a familiar voice shook him from this waking nightmare -- for if he had not regained awareness, he would have run into another horse. Eniah's pupils dilate and shrink for a moment, a cold shiver running down his spine. His hooves grind to a halt in the dirt, muddying them. His legs still shake even as he comes a stop. If Tumble were to look at his face, he may notice that the colt was clenching his teeth, blue eyes obscured by fiery locks.
That was Tumbleweed's voice, wasn't it? Eniah hadn't even realized how visibly shaken he was. He had spent months keeping his trauma -- and his history -- under wraps, and was doing a pretty good job of it, too. The calm facade had only been shattered because, gods be damned, his old keepers intermingled with Alya's children. The colt's teke took hold of the edge of his cloak and squeezed it. It was still there. His brand was hidden. They couldn't know.
"Tumble?" Eniah squeaked, failing to make so much as eye contact. The child's voice audibly quivered. "I-is this really happening?" | |
Word Count: 288
Tagging: taebun
Note(s): of course, any horse, seroran or aodhian, is welcome to come across these two. |
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Post by redspaceboyy on May 26, 2019 17:15:46 GMT -6
 Casanova
Seroran Screamer Before she had the chance to let out another complaint, a pair of familiar voices sounded in distressed calls nearby. The pale filly's head straightened, hardly paying much mind of the massive Thunderbird's shadow as he landed--a smile even fell upon her face at the sight of the well-known familiar and his small companion.
Normally, she would spout out a joke, make an attempt to sabotage the sentimental moment. But she was too tired now, too angry. She stumbled away from the Fury she had been talking to, and instead let her large ears lead her to the sound of the colts' voices.
She pushed through crowds, sometimes roughly shoving as their voices quieted down. She kept away from the Aodhians, being sure to give them a glare or bare of her teeth if they looked her way. When she saw the two, her legs nearly gave out beneath her, knees buckled but she forced her way forward.
"En, Weed!" she called, ears folding back with relief. Her voice was surprisingly loud and clear, but anyone who looked at her face could see it was mere seconds away from crumpling into tears again. Her cheeks were already spotted with small dusts of salt from previous tears, carving a gruesome path from her eyes to her jaw.
She couldn't say anything, voice too raw and shaky to do so. Instead she wrapped a tight hug around both of them, taking a few seconds each before stepping back. The tears had returned, her lip quivering as she tried to hold it together.
"I-I lost them," she choked, voice now finding its way back to her lips. "I-- are you guys okay? I-it's been a bit." Somehow, a smile curled its way onto her face, as weak as it was it was genuine. Then it shattered once more, her head dipped as she fought back the sobs. She let them speak despite all the questions that threatened to spill, looking between each of them with periwinkle eyes.
wc: 333 | post #2 |
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Post by taebun on May 27, 2019 1:57:11 GMT -6
Tumble | 16 | Windracer
At coming across his friend, relief finally washed over him, relaxing the tension in his muscles as his pace settled to a stop alongside the younger colt. "Yeah, it's me." Tumble's voice was soft. But the bright expression on his face fell as he noticed that something wasn't quite right with Eniah. Worry knitted his brows and the first thing he could think of to do was to gently nudge his friend's shoulder. Is this really happening? The question brought back the feeling of heaviness in his chest and made him sick to his stomach. He didn't want to believe it either. Tumble swallowed, huffing a breath through his nose before he nodded. "I don't want to believe it either, En." He murmured, bringing his thoughts into words. He watched Eniah carefully, a sharp pang of guilt and frustration in his gut at the sight of seeing his friend upset. The young windracer wasn't an expert in comforting others, especially with words but it didn't mean he wouldn't try his best. He tore his attention from the other colt only for a moment in order to give their surroundings another look. The large thunderbird hadn't gone unnoticed but Tumble only flattened his ears at the sight of it. The call of his name above the quiet hum of voices from the crowd a little ways behind them instantly pulled his head in the direction of the voice. He turned on his heels and the second his eyes caught the familiar face of Casanova his gaze softened and a small smile finally made it's way back onto his muzzle. But similar to Eniah, their friend also was just as upset. Tumble could already feel himself growing distressed but he forced himself to stay strong today. "Cas! You're here too!" He embraced her happily in return and tightly at that. Her tear stained face broke his heart and his ears flicked back against his head at her claim. "We're... well..." Tumble glanced over at Eniah before shaking his head, looking back to the filly with sad eyes. "I think we're fine on the outside. But... what about you? Who did you lose, Cas?" A small part of him thought he might regret asking, since he might have a pretty good guess as to whom. But the thought was almost enough to anger him.
Posts: 2 | Word Count: 399 |
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Post by buffyandbramble on May 27, 2019 7:10:02 GMT -6
Acorro
The news had spread like wildfire, for want of a better metaphor. Acorro, like many others, had gravitated towards the cratered ruins of Osulas. He'd had to pause on the edge of the ruined city to take it all in. He'd known about what had happened to the place of course, but still, actually seeing it shattered into pieces for the first time? It was humbling to say the least. He wondered how Danaë was faring - the city had contained her livelihood and home, and no doubt had meant far more to her than to him. To him, it had simply been a place of good memories; when it came to a home, he was content anywhere so long as he had his nearest and dearest beside him. He was content to follow her about, and let her take whatever time she needed.
He wasn't angry about the treaty. He wanted to be, but he wasn't. He was just relieved. He had surprised himself with the ease with which he accepted the terms that had been negotiated, happy to hear that the war was over. All things considered, they hadn't come out all that badly. The reparations heavily in favour of Aodh, but they were always going to be and he would happily pay to be rid of the Aodhians and bring peace, and most importantly safety, to his home herd. To think that they could have won against the fire nation was a pipe dream, one that cost more and more lives and livelihoods the longer that it went on. As far as he could see, the terms were manageable, and the Serorans could make do. That was their way - to make the most of what they had. So no, he couldn't manage to be angry.
Making peace with their peace terms didn't equate to relaxation. The atmosphere around was cautiously positive but Acorro was somewhat detached from it. Instead he was passively cool, erring on the side of quiet and standing with a sense of stiff formality that was usually fairly unnatural for him. He wasn't jumpy, but he was on guard. He couldn't help himself with all of the Aodhians around. He didn't think that they would do anything, and really he wanted to trust them, but they'd only been at peace for two weeks. He'd crossed blades with Aodhians - he might have been forgiving, but you couldn't forget the sense of danger that quickly.
Post #1
WC: 408
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Post by JourneyHorse on May 27, 2019 11:14:13 GMT -6
Torbek | Fury  | [ post #1 || word count: 374 ] |
The white stallion moved through the crowds milling about the brittle remains of the once beautiful Osulas. The city was a mere skeleton now, a skeleton wrapped and shaded by the multicolored tents of the Serorans. Torbek had been recalled from the desert once news of the peace talk circulated. He’d spent the past few days in Osulas escorting members of the Seroran government as they settled on an agreement of peace with the Aodhians.
Peace. The agreement made a mockery of the word. Torbek hadn’t fought for this; the countless Serorans he’d watched die hadn’t fought for this. They had fought for their home and for their freedom. Ahead an intense looking thunderbird towered over the crowd, dwarfing the small figure that moved in its shadow. The small figure’s voice reached Torbek, asking for her parents. The Fury gritted his teeth. This is not what he’d fought for. Feelings of failure washed over him, if only he had fought harder, if only they had had more forces, if only… if only. The list could go on and on and offer no more comfort than that bleak reality that many in his herd were facing as they realized they had to start over.
The Fury’s white coat was stained with the accumulated dust of the desert. He’d had no time recently to wash much less the energy to actually do so. Older wounds and fresh ones could be seen across his hide as they finally got a chance to heal while he rested. The past year had been one of constant movement, endless vigilance, and sporadic bursts of violence. Torbek was tired and the weight of the peace treaty weighed on his shoulders. They had lost. The very presence of Aodhians among those gathered was proof of that. Despite this Torbek held his head high, his crest feathers raised as he moved through the crowd. The last thing his fellow Serorans needed was to see one of their soldiers sulking in defeat. The atmosphere was one of cautious celebration, but Torbek knew there were many in the crowd who, like him, resented the terms of peace. So he kept his head up for them as he scanned the crowds looking for anyone he recognized.
Faster. Faster. Until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death. |
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Post by Luneby on May 27, 2019 11:29:14 GMT -6
D A N A Ë
"Of fire and gold."
WC: 350| Post # 1 Danaë had been following her oldest friend throughout this confusing journey. Leaving the Oasis for the first time in months, let alone leaving it without her family, left a sour taste inside her mouth. Heart pounding painfully, she couldn’t make her mind on this turn of events. Was the treaty a good thing? Did the war truly end? There must have been something else, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. There were also these dreams that woke her up at night lately and all the guilt that had been burdening her for so long. She wasn’t quite sure if this treaty would make it any easier to fulfil her lifelong goal, and to what cost.
She brushed those thoughts off when Acorro and herself reached the ruins of Osulas, unfolding it’s ashes right before their eyes. She gulped as her hooves reached for the grounds that she once walked – now turned grey and deprived of any spark of life. Although everyone knew Osulas had been destroyed, it truly was something else to witness it with her own eyes. Everything she had tried to build for years was reduced to nothingness, and she would have to start over for the second time in a year. But she couldn’t stay in the Oasis with the purpose she was gifted with - she knew how to build, how to repair and mostly how to build: Osulas was the place that needed her the most and was the place where she belonged.
She looked around, saw the many equines planting their tents already. Soon the ashes would be covered in colourful cloth – although she hated to see this place destroyed, she was relieved to see it live again and see everyone gather to rebuild it. She turned towards Acorro, timid smile rising on her face as her eyes questioned him. None of them had said anything when they heard the news – but they wouldn’t be able to avoid the subject forever. With a few gestures of her whole body, she suggested that they found a spot to plant their tent. |
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Post by Artistic Pineapple on May 27, 2019 11:32:23 GMT -6
Zasha & Rook Serora | Fledgling
"I'm terribly sorry."
Zasha looks up at the Aodhian chevalier and lowers her ears. His tone seemed genuine, could she really trust this stranger? Behind her, Rook jostles his feathers with a shake of his neck. He's not speaking to her in his dialect, but the gesture is one of distrust and the filly notes it by turning to meet his eyes.
At the offer of help finding her lost family, the filly perks up.
"They aren't here," she tells the aodhian with confidence in her tone. "We checked for them already when we flew over. I'm Zasha and this is Rook-" she gestures to the thunderbird who rumbles in reply, eyes still on the chevalier. "My parents were with me before I met him, maybe six months ago... I lost them in the Valley of Melodies on our way to the Oasis. I got lost because it was foggy and we had to hide, and then I met Rook..." She trails off, coming to understand that the rest of her story isn't going to help. "Did you take them? My father was Dorik and my mother was Edli. She was a singer and a pegasus like me. My brothers and sister were with them. Are they in Aodh? How do we get them back?" Her voice had begun to raise in pitch as worry crept up her hooves. She began to tremble slightly and did her best to hide it by taking small careful steps in place.
Sensing her distress, the thunderbird steps closer and gives the filly a gentle nuzzle on her cheek with the tip of his beak. It seems to sooth her and the child's fidgeting comes to a stop. Zasha turns back to the chevalier, concern on her features once more.
WC: 306 | Post #2
(oof sorry Misha, her folks are LONG GONE) |
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Post by marinedoq on May 27, 2019 12:04:34 GMT -6
M I S H A
aodh
......
Observing the filly as her huge Thunderbird towered over her, he saw it shake its neck. It seemed as though the filly and the Thunderbird were talking together, which perhaps wouldn't be that odd, but it was huge, and so it made the chevalier feel even more uncomfortable. He surely didn't want to piss that one off, that'd be a terrible idea. He turned his gaze to the young girl once more, now listening as she introduced herself and her.. pet. Zasha and Rook. For a moment, he wondered whether she had named the thunderbird or if it had named itself. He didn't dwell on it too long, as Zasha started explaining her situation. He'd never seen the Valley of Melodies until he got there, accompanying Lucerys to give the seroran herd their peace treaty. In the few days he'd been there, he could understand how the filly could have gotten lost from her parents. The place was a huge mess of stone and fog on a bad day, hard to navigate, impossible to make it out of alive all alone. Yet, Zasha had gotten out.
He thought for a moment, on how to phrase his next sentence, carefully selecting his words. What would Tiresias say, he was so good with words... "Zasha, I'm sorry to say this, but the chance that your parents are still alive is slim. I don't think they've been taken as slaves, not many dare venture into the Valley of Melodies unless they know it well. I'm impressed you managed to navigate that place, and find a guardian such as Rook." He was silent for a moment, looking at the filly's face to see her reaction, knowing it might be a horrified scream or sobbing. At least, that's what he'd expect.
"Zasha... The Seroran Herd is your home, your family. That's how your herd operates, isn't it? You'll figure things out, but... If there's anything I can do, give you a temporary home within the walls of New Valore or in any way support you, my name is Misha. Send for me and I'll try to help, it's the least I can do." He didn't mention her loss further, didn't want to dig deeper into the wounds that had probably reopened. His words surprised even himself as he said them. However, seroran or not, war or not, no one really deserved to lose their family and be left all alone. There wasn't much he could do, if he could do anything at all. But she deserved the opportunity, he'd try to her. Not only for her own sake, but also to show the rest of the seroran herd, that the war tore apart families on both sides and most regretted having to fight - helping each other out was the least they could do.
... ... Word Count: 472 Post #2 (i'm so sorry zasha, please let me scoop u up) |
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Post by Zookcan on May 27, 2019 14:14:27 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
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He didn't want to believe it at all. This is not the peace he wanted, but then again, the peace Eniah desired would have been nothing more than a childish fever dream -- to see those who took for granted and enslaved be brought to justice and thwarted by the desert. He almost swore he wished Alya, in all her villainy and righteousness, could sweep Aodh from the land and break the chains placed on his mother, his loved ones and their families. But he knows that isn't possible; he knows that this herd could not stand the awesome might of Ignacio's children, and all in all, his wishes are only wishes.
But this didn't feel like peace, or suffering on both sides. He knew that when war was declared, all his keepers suffered from was a broken Crucible and a small handful of escaped slaves. This was just a game to whomever had taken Amadeus' place as King. Gods, he wants to vent -- he wants to share all he knew, and warn how stupid of a decision the Serorans were making by trusting that Aodh will keep their word. But Casanova finds them and Eniah holds his tongue. The colt is shocked to see her visibly holding back sobs.
"Cassie..." Soft blue eyes flicker towards her in a brief moment of sympathy. He knows that feeling of loss. He just hates to assume that whatever she has lost -- if it was a loved one, a home, a sense of belonging or individuality, it was all at the hooves of greedy Aodhians.
That sympathy quickly twists into ire. He could fear for the slaves and a very few of his master's children who had the wool pulled over their eyes -- but he would never forgive the others. "This isn't right. None of this is right. Your sultan is wrong," Bitterness slips onto his tongue, dripping with venom. Eniah speaks in faint whispers. "Aodh claims peace, but I know them better than anyone here. They are either arrogant or blind. Don't trust them." He turns his head away, his tone softening. "I came here looking for a friend of mine, but I couldn't find him...I'm scared I won't."
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Word Count: 366
Tagging: taebun, redspaceboyy
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Post by buffyandbramble on May 27, 2019 15:13:31 GMT -6
To give credit where it was due, Osulas (or what was left of it) was doing its best to regain its old energy and charm. Horses from all over were congregating, and splashes of colour were bright against the ruins, and oddly cheerful sight in the wake of destruction. It was almost as if the spirit of the city was still alive and kicking, defiant against its wreckage and determined to bright and merry. It was funny what a collection of colour could do.
At Danaë's gesture he nodded and unshouldered the pack that contained their tent, dropping it down when they reached what seemed to be a suitable place to pitch it before starting on the unpacking. It was a process that both of them were used to and cooperation between them was easy as they worked together to unfurl the brightly patterned fabric and begin staking it into place. They hadn't spoken about the reasons behind the gathering, and Acorro still wasn't sure he wanted to broach the subject. It seemed like a pointless, and depressing, conversation that didn't serve any purpose by being had, and yet still managed to weigh heavily between them. He was currently taking the 'stubbornly-refuse-to-acknowledge-it' approach.
He paused whilst hammering in one of the tent stakes, a hoof resting on top of it a he glanced around the gathered space. The positivity that there was around was fragile and only thinly veiling the underlying heartbreak and malcontent, and he slicked his ears back with a frown at all the faces of distress around him. He wished there was something he could do to ease it, even a little. It hurt to see his herd hurting like this. He sighed as he turned back to the tent peg, stomping on it with more force than was strictly necessary, and glancing back towards Danaë, his expression almost dejected as he watched her and listening to her bells ringing out rhythmically with her movements.
His ears flicked forward at the merry little sound, and an idea flitted through his mind. He raised his head up once more to glance around and with a snort, his expression became defiant - defiant against all this lingering sadness and unease. Whatever the terms, the war was over and a new leader had been elected, it should be a time of celebration. His shoulders squared; he was a proud Seroran in the company of his fellows, and he would not be cowed by melancholy. With one hoof he began to stomp out a rhythm, a steady beat that was the beginning of one of the songs commonly sang at more traditional celebrations, before raising his voice in the opening bars and lyrics. Hopefully others around him would start to join in. They didn't need instruments, just their voices, and there was nothing like a good song to bring everyone together and lift spirits.
Or so he hoped, otherwise he was probably going to look like a bit of an idiot.
Post #2
WC: 500
OOC: Not sure what a traditional Seroran song is, but I like to think that they have some good shanty type songs that you don't necessarily need instruments for? That's what I was going for anyway. The type of song in my head whilst I was writing were drinking songs, though maybe a non-drinking version.
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Post by redspaceboyy on May 27, 2019 15:35:44 GMT -6
Casanova
Seroran Screamer Watery eyes looked between Eniah and Tumble thankfully, though a rather harsh exhale of angry breath slipped by as the red colt spoke. Casanova nodded, her eyes flickering back to look toward the small group of Aodhians.
"I know- none of this is right," she whispered, shaking her head. The tangled mess of blonde waves were coated in dust, and in small sections there was a dark substance caked along the hairs. It was blood, but whose she wasn't willing to tell. "Pa and Keke, they went to the Oasis but I-I can't find them. They said not to trust them no matter what. Now they're gone--" She paused in her rambling, now narrowing her gaze on what appeared to be the new Sultan's tent.
She was mad. Mad at Baram, mad at the Aodhians, mad at Jibriel for allowing Baram to do such a thing. But they were just kids, barely adults, and they had no place to rebut against what has already been done. That didn't stop Cas from raising her head high with a snarl on her lips when she spotted several Serorans going about sharing what little they had with Aodhians.
She looked back to Eniah. All of them were looking for something lost to them. The sounds of childrens' wails and distress as they tried to find their lost mothers, fathers, family was a heavy reminder of it. There was crying, lots of it. And not one tear was shed by an Aodhian. Casanova shook her head. "I don't wanna lose hope. But what's done is done." She bit her lip as she fought her next words. "I think... I think we need to do something. I can't sit here and watch them walk all over us." Her eyes closed, head tipped away from the sun to face the sky. Her lips moved but no sound erupted. Alya, please help us.
wc: 315 | post #3 |
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Post by Luneby on May 27, 2019 15:59:39 GMT -6
D A N A Ë
"Of fire and gold."
WC: 516| Post # 2 Danaë had been a bossy little guide to Acorro during their ascension through the ruins of Osulas. Just any spot wouldn’t do. She had put her soul in crafting this tent – as she had every time she had the chance to craft even the most mundane things, creative deprivation leaving her a little crazed and finicky in that regard – and she knew exactly on what kind of soil she wanted to plant it, she knew exactly the space they would need to make the best of it’s potential. She had crafted it as fast as she could when they learnt the news, thankfully her past as a traveller had left her with good experience in the matter of tents. Her poor friend had to follow her until they finally found a spot that she deemed satisfying enough, and after she cleared out the zone, the setting up would start. Poles and stakes were to be planted and hammered into the ground, sheets of colourful cloth stretched and laced on them, and the list went on. The golden mare put absurd focus in every single task – that way the subject would hopefully leave her consciousness. Acorro thankfully didn’t seem too eager to comment on the situation yet – which she was conflicted about. There had been things she meant to tell him for a long time now and this situation would end up bringing up her … issue. But she had waited for that long, she could wait a little more, right?
Her internal rambling was interrupted as she noticed her friend behaving strangely. First there was a beat. And then rose his voice. It had taken a song to remind her that those bells hanging from her anklets, which prevented her from being completely mute, could make music. When she was younger, they had been her best ally for dancing. She stared at Acorro for a moment, ears twitching as she listened to him singing, looking around her to try and see what the other equines were up to. In the end, she thought what he was doing was right: the war was over after all and this moment should be a celebration and an occasion to gather up in order to rebuild their broken home. Now, as she lacked a voice, she couldn’t sing.
But as sure as night follows day, she could dance.
A playful spark lit up in her eyes as she grinned, leaving her task to follow Acorro in his impulse. It was not the first time they had done such a thing: both of them used to be quite the merrymakers before the war struck. Hooves stomping the ground in rhythm, bells chiming and sparkling as she moved and red ribbons snapping in the air, she danced to his song, slowly at first, inviting and warm so others would join their celebratory circle. Bells rang louder and clearer as she moved, circling around Acorro, joyfully bouncing in relief, hair waving in the gentle wind. It was a beautiful day after all – Alya had given them her blessing through that bright blue sky.
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Post by Artistic Pineapple on May 27, 2019 19:33:42 GMT -6
Zasha & Rook Serora | Fledgling
The child stood stock-still as the chevalier spoke, tears brimming in her eyes as he bore the worst news she had heard... but it wasn't final. Clearly, this aodhian hadn't been the one to capture her family. He didn't know what became of them, which meant they were out there somewhere. They had to be. Zasha looked around her when Misha finished speaking.
Colorful tents were rising in the crater of what remained of Osulas. While many horses appeared sorrowful, the blue sky shone on them all and some had even started to dance. A gentle breeze ran through her feathers. Ayla was here today, surely. Her goddess had blessed her before she was born and the child would be under her protective wings, always. It was why Rook was sent to her, to protect her when her family could not. Now it was her turn to protect them.
"One moment please," she told the tall chevalier before turning to Rook.
In his tongue, she told him of her plan. The thunderbird rose in alarm, giving a condescending glare to Misha before returning his eyes to Zasha and grumbling in response. The two disputed shortly, but it was clear that the child won the argument because she turned back around with hope in her eyes.
"We will come to New Valore," it's obvious that the thought frightens her, but serorians are not meek. "I'll find my family and we'll bring them back home."
WC: 250 | Post #3
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Post by taebun on May 27, 2019 21:14:21 GMT -6
Tumble | 16 | Windracer
They were just children - still young to the complexity of the sensitive politics in the world. But they weren't ignorant to the struggle of hardship, no Seroran was. Sedo was an unforgiving landscape but in turn it shaped each and every one of them to be a strong people. The war had cost them so much and Tumble had complained about being confined in the Oasis. When they had left the capital he hadn't expected to come back and see it almost entirely destroyed, all but a crater left in it's place. He always admired his herd's peaceful nature. But maybe, just this once, he wished they had given more of a fight. Yes, he was angry. His head was clouded with a thick storm of emotions that he couldn't grasp and settle on just one, or even just a few. There was anger, frustration and desperation. He didn't lose his parents or family to Aodhian's but he had lost a great many other things that were worth just the same. The sight of his loved ones, his closest friends, torn and as broken as he was only fueled his disappointment in their own people. Maybe he just didn't understand, but even so, he doubted that it would feel any less unfair if he did. "I'm so sorry, Cas." Tumble murmured his response, the tone of his voice had fallen quiet and his expression showed nothing else aside from the clear sign's that he was troubled. He wasn't the best and mulling things over and combined with his already complicated thoughts he almost felt as though his head were to explode. Where was Alya? Did she still care about her children? The doubt that ebbed in his core made his heart ache. There was never a time in his left where he had even dared to doubt in their creator, for the young windracer only knew love and admiration for the goddess. But times were changing and she had been silent. "But you're right. I don't want to lose hope either. We can't." He spoke firmly, looking from both of his friends. His eyes settled on new faces as his gaze wandered back over to the crowd. The sight of Seroran's mingling with the invaders made the hairs on his spine prickle with unease. "Aodh still thinks they can walk all over us," Tumble nearly snapped, a tone that was rarely ever used. "I don't like the treaty and I'll never trust the word of an Aodhian after what they've done, what they've cost us." After several minutes of silence, of letting himself breathe and calm his nerves, Tumble's glare softened as he addressed his friends again. "Just promise me that we'll stay together. We've lost a lot and I don't want to think about losing either of you. I won't."
Posts: 3 | Word Count: 479 |
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Post by Zookcan on May 27, 2019 21:57:45 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
________________________________________________
Her words stabbed like an arrow to his heart. And yet again, Eniah questioned if he truly was Aodhian. He had the blood of Valorians in his veins, many of whom swam in and drank liquid gold. Yet, beneath his bitter and scarred hide, he had always been a sensitive child. This better nature of him had been brought out in the months he spent in the desert. Was it because he was no longer in Valore? -- no, but in his time with his last master, there were horses he met that he knew had the potential for goodness. They were just blinded by a hedonistic, arrogant society, and soon to be corrupted by their peers who were less than good.
Yes, they were either blind or corrupt. But neither trait is good. Eniah gives a deep exhale, his heart still thumping in his chest. The colt hesitates for a moment, afraid to give his opinion out of habit. Such was the ways of a former servile. It's harder to speak when you're surrounded by your former captors. "N-no, Cassie, there's..." He winces. "Believe me, more than anything, I wish that there was something that could be done. But, there's nothing that can be done."
A pause, before Eniah continues. He shudders and squeezes his eyes tight, his ears flattening against his skull. Bad memories resurface, and he tries to distract himself from them.
"Aodh is...a very powerful, massive herd. They walk all over everyone because they're the only ones that can. They are filled with arrogant, petty horses who care for no one but themselves and are easy to disappoint. Th-there's good ones in there but they are very sparse. All the ones who are in power look down upon everything and everyone else. I-it doesn't matter where you come from. Unless you were born in Valore yourself, they could take you and put you in chains and treat you like you're a possession. A-and even then..."
His breath hitches, and for a moment, Eniah feels as though he's said too much. He ends his rambling. "They're that careless. My point is, they're too easy to anger. I can expect them to skew things in their favor, but this?" His eyes dart to kind natives offering food, drink and friendly conversation to Aodhian chevaliers. "This is all wrong. There's nothing we can do to get Aodh to change its mind...but your Sultan is wrong to trust that they will keep their word and not exploit you."
Eniah was tired. Just being here makes him sick. "...I'm glad to hear that at least you guys won't. I wish I could tell your new leader about this. I don't...I don't want to see you guys get hurt by them again..." | |
Word Count: 459
Tagging: taebun , redspaceboyy
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Post by redspaceboyy on May 27, 2019 22:45:46 GMT -6
Casanova
Seroran Screamer She looked toward each as they spoke, giving her acknowledgements in small, curt nods. With a shivering breath, she sighed.
"He is our Sultan, Eniah. You are one of us now." She nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "We're gonna stick together, just like what Tums said." Her eyes braved a new look--something hopeful, as if Alya herself had appeared before her. Something about what Tumbleweed had said, to stick together, helped soften the blow of facing her daunting future. "And I know there's good out there in Aodh. We have you as proof--" She offered a small smile toward Eniah. "--but if they're willing to consider a truce, maybe they will see what they've done to us."
Casanova looked back to where the others conversed. She could see the pity on one Chevalier's face as he talked with a Seroran filly. Compassion. Something she hadn't expected to see from something she had seen as so... evil. It gave her hope, despite the anger she felt.
"I think we should talk to Jibriel. He-he might listen, if we just..." Her voice dwindled down to a soft, weary mumble. Her brow furrowed as she thought of anything she could possibly do to better the situation. It truly felt as if Alya had gone.
Perhaps, when the sky mother saw what had happened to her people, she could do something. Anything.
"Our fate is in Alya's hands," she breathed, ears folding back as she looked up at the sky. She would not be rejoicing with the others, but she would look hopefully to the stars, waiting for a sign. They would stick together, holding onto hope.
wc: 274 | post #4 |
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Post by marinedoq on May 28, 2019 12:25:43 GMT -6
M I S H A
aodh
......
He hated bringing bad news, and seeing the girl in front of him tearing up, as he told her the truth, it was not at all something he wanted to see again. However, something in her expression changed, a small flicker of hope coming back to life. Something he had said perhaps? Something that gave her the impression, that all was not yet lost?
Perhaps his proposal had come too abruptly. He should probably have thought more about the consequences and struggles it'd bring, before giving the filly the opportunity to come with him. That was all too late now though, he could sense that in the way the filly and her thunderbird, Rook he reminded himself, seemed to be talking together. She'd been very polite, in the way a child can be when they grow up too fast or when they repeat what the adults say. In Zasha's case, it was probably the first. As she spoke again, Rook looking somewhat angrily at Misha, she spoke with confidence. We will come to New Valore. I'll find my family and we'll bring them back home. Despite the confident sounding statement, she looked reluctant. But, you do what you can for family, right?
Misha was surprised with her quick decision making, knowing it wouldn't be that easy to just go back to New Valore with a filly and a thunderbird in tow. However, he'd figure something out, he owed her that now. Zasha, I'm surprised by your decision, but nevertheless I'd be honoured to keep my promise and help you out. I can't promise to take you back with us now, a lot of things need to be worked out for that, but I'll find a way. Misha shot Rook a quick glance, thinking about how to get him to Valore, where to take him.. How to feed him. Zasha was easier to deal with, Tiresias could surely help out with an extra bed while she stayed in Valore. Perhaps Rook could get a place in the stables, if only Misha promised to help look after him.
... ... Word Count: 350 Post #3 |
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Post by ThatDenver on May 28, 2019 18:59:18 GMT -6
JIBRIEL
Jibriel had left the grounds after the announcement to see off a few nomadic band leaders who could not stay at Osulas for any longer.
He was glad for the opportunity, glad to be away for a bit.
They had counted the votes before the announcement, of course. He had known a couple of days early.
Alya’s winds had he dreaded it. Of course, he had been willing to take up the mantle, but that did not mean he wasn’t terrified.
Humbled, yes. And very thankful for the vote of confidence.
But terrified.
With his history? What he had done?
Perhaps what Serora wanted right now was a warrior.
He wasn’t sure what Osprey had been before. He knew Baram had been a Mullah. Jibriel, Jibriel had ran in the dusts of Sedo marking paths and healing wounds, and before then, he had fought in the far reaches of the north for something he didn’t really believe in.
But Jibriel believed in Serora. He might not have been born here, but it was the only home he had ever known.
It was tempting to just stay away.
He knew the people weren’t happy. He’d seen it on their faces.
He understood, for happy was not the word he would use to describe his own feelings either. They had fought so hard, yet this was the best victory they could achieve.
Aodh just held too many cards. They had so much less at stake.
If he had voted against the peace, every Serora dead afterward would have been on his conscience.
Jibriel pressed his wings against his body and let his blessing surge through him. Like a whirlwind it took him across the sky, his very shape blurring out of view. The air around him budged as he moved, and when he landed back into Osulas, there was a soft boom of the air. He spread open his wings momentarily, stretching them out, and then pulling them back in.
Someone was singing.
Another dancing.
Jibriel smiled.
He settled down and began to sing as well, that very same tune. His voice was soft and gentle, almost mournful, but rang clearly as a side instrument to Acorro’s more vibrant chords.
Word count: 367
Post #1
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Post by redspaceboyy on May 28, 2019 19:44:46 GMT -6
Casanova
Seroran Screamer Our fate is in Alya's hands.
The words lingered on her lips for a long moment. Just as they were whispered, voice rasped and unclear, song sounded from nearby. At first, Casanova remained still, simply watching where she spotted the singing. She sniffled, recognizing the song from one her father had sung to her, particularly when she was upset or distressed.
She opened her mouth once more, the sounds and syllables rolling off of her tongue as if on instinct. They, the Aodhians, had taken everything from them. Almost everything. The one thing they couldn't claim, was this.
She sang, voice ringing loud and clear while still molding with the harmonics. Even as a few more tears fell from her face, she sang with clarity. The stripped filly lifted her head, letting the wind lift her matted mane, drying her tears and letting the song carry even farther.
Her hooves carried her a few steps away from her group of security, now as she clicked into perfect tune with the pair of voices that drifted over the camp.
Everything will be alright.
wc: 181 | post #5 |
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Post by Artistic Pineapple on May 28, 2019 20:53:04 GMT -6
Zasha & Rook Serora | Fledgling
"Will you to send me a letter?"
The filly couldn't really understand why the trip to Ethine couldn't happen now, but if she had learned anything in the past six months, it was patience. Misha truly seemed kind enough and so she trusted his word. At the chevalier's expression, Zasha nearly giggled. "My mother taught me to read letters," she told him with a small grin. Unlike many horses of her herd, she was literate enough to decipher the markings on scripts and paper. The smaller ones, anyway.
The child's attention was then stolen by a rising song not far from where she stood. Her chest began to lighten at the sound of such beautiful voices. It reminded her of the songs that her parents used to sing together and for a moment, she was back with them around a fire in the Valley of Melodies. The memory didn't last, as she pulled herself back to the present and turned once more to her new friend.
"The rangers bring the letters to us here, so you won't have to deliver it by yourself," she wasn't sure if the chevalier knew how the mail system worked. It couldn't hurt to explain it to him. "When we get your letter from New Valore, then we will come, okay?" It seemed as though the deal had been struck to the child. With that, she stepped forward and placed her head against Misha's chest briefly. "Wind beneath your wings, until we meet again," She told him before turning around and heading in the direction of the singing group at a lofty trot. Rook gave the chevalier one last lingering glare before following his small friend.
WC: 288 | Post #4
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Post by Zookcan on May 29, 2019 20:53:06 GMT -6
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ENIAH
your scars will be remade in gold.
________________________________________________
He freezes for a moment, Casanova's first words having hit him like a steel bell, he feels it radiate throughout his entire form. When he had first come here, Eniah had never imagined he might consider this place home. The desert was too hot, the land too barren, and too lifeless to his Aodhian eyes. But then again, at that time he pondered if he would ever belong somewhere, if he was even worthy. He certainly did not think himself worthy of being called a Seroran back then. He still isn't certain if he is!
Hearing those words ... warms his heart and makes him smile a bit. It's the first genuine, heartfelt smile he's shown to another horse in weeks, especially in gratitude. Yes, perhaps the desert does feel more at home now. He still doubts he is worthy, but he would like to call it home. He wished that could be the same for his loved ones still trapped within Valore's walls.
But very quickly, the colt's smile falls. It is but a single glimpse, a blink of pure joy in a whole scene of bittersweetness. Later in the day, he would look back on this moment and realize how strong Serora really was, not in number but in character. They had so much taken from them, and yet they persevered. They clung to and celebrated each other and whatever they had left, even when everything was gone. And of course, they remembered what was lost.
For now...it just felt morose to him. Even the song on his ears seemed like a dirge, mourning and remembering those missing. A pang of guilt strikes in his chest. His bloodline is still Aodhian, and he can't help but feel shame for what his keepers have done. Eniah looks to Tumbleweed for guidance while Casanova wanders closer to the group. Then, with faint hesitation, he begins to follow the filly. With Wosil absent, they are all he has left to look up to.
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Word Count: 331
Tagging: taebun , redspaceboyy
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Post by Luneby on May 30, 2019 3:10:17 GMT -6
D A N A Ë
"Of fire and gold."
WC: 516| Post # 3 Horses had started gathering around them, familiar faces and concerned whispers that she sometimes caught. Everyone was scared. But it was no time to lose hope. So, she kept dancing as Acorro sang. The bells at her ankles glimmered and shone in rhythm. It was a solemn and fiery dance; it was the only thing she could do to fight fear back. She let it all flow through her – the fear, the hope, the joy of being all together, her body speaking as her voice couldn’t by the arch of her neck, the way she pranced, the way her mane waved in Alya’s winds. The way her eyes burnt.
She heard someone landing next to them. She felt their gaze before she heard their voice. She shivered as the solemn harmonies rang straight into her heart.She was surprised though, when she found out that this was none other than the new Sultan himself. She wavered for a fleeting moment as her colourful irises landed on the stallion’s frame. She smiled brightly at him, giving him a thankful look before she leaped back into her dance, bells ringing on her trail.
More voices were joining, empowering her. She remembered things she had heard coming from the houses of the horses nearby, especially from one golden who walked closer.
"Aodh is...a very powerful, massive herd. They walk all over everyone because they're the only ones that can."
She heard that. She saw the sadness in his eyes, and she heard it in this voice. Those words had struck her. She was of Aodhian blood, despite how much her mother liked to deny it despite the brand carved into her shoulder. Danaë had their fire within her blood, fire she feared as she felt Ignacio looming closer and closer to her heart. But she was a Seroran. As she heard all those voices joining together, as she lost herself within the celebration, expressing with her body what a song was crying out, all the loneliness and doubt she had felt during the past months turned to ashes. She was half-Aodhian, yes. She did want to master their power, indeed. And she would do so and burn them to the ground if they ever intended to harm her herd and her family ever again. Aodh was a powerful herd – and she knew she could learn from them. And on this very day, she decided she would: she knew this was how she could become a better asset to her herd. Mastering the forge, giving up on the fear of fire, making what could not be made otherwise. She vowed to protect what she loved at all costs.
But for now, she danced. It was time to celebrate. It was not the end of the war that she celebrated, no. It was the fact that the herd had survived through it, that this war had not killed the seroran spirit and that, more than ever, they were united. Her bells kept ringing as they sang. Ashes and sand were carried away by the wind as her hooves reached the ground.
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Post by buffyandbramble on May 31, 2019 17:01:31 GMT -6
Music had an inexplicable power sometimes, able to invoke emotions and memories so easily. He found a smile coming easily to his face as Danaë joined in with her dancing, bells ringing merrily as she did so. For this moment, there was no war, no peace treaty, no heartache or strife. It was just them again, enjoying song and dance without a care in the world and oblivious to whatever was going on around them. Between the music and the motion they could have been anywhere, anywhen, from a ceremony, a festival, or just a night they'd decided was good for a dance.
Music's second great power was bringing horses together, and it wasn't overly long before first one voice, then another was joining in and Acorro felt his heart lighten with each new voice to join in. Here they were, all together - friends, family, and strangers, all coming together to enjoy some of the simplest and most beautiful pleasures in life. Whilst good company and music couldn't solve every problem in the world, there were few they could not at least improve. Serora would make do, Serora would carry on. With the song of the winds in their hearts and their herd at their sides, there was no storm that they could not weather. They were there children of Alya after all.
As the song began to draw to a close, Acorro looked about the growing gathering with a smile, and only mild concern at the looming figure of a thunderbird. Even if it was friendly, they had an unfortunate habit of not looking friendly. He found himself looking past the great bird as the last notes of the song rang out in the air, gaze settling on the Aodhian further back. Forgetting himself for a moment he almost, almost went to invite the stranger to join them before catching himself. This was not before the war, and Misha wasn't just a stranger. He was Aodhian. The soft smile the skirmisher had been wearing faded into a more passive look of caution, and as the next song was struck up behind him he simply stood and quietly watched the chevalier. In a way it was strange not to be extending an offer of company or inclusion, the concept was so recently foreign that it still didn't sit right. But he was Aodhian.
The roan dropped his gaze, ears flicking slightly and betraying his inner conflict about excluding another. It didn't change the fact that it wouldn't be right to invite him to join them, all things considered. He glanced in the unicorn's direction once more before turning away to focus back on the music, picking up the tune and lending his voice once more to the song floating on the wind.
WC: 462
Post #3
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