Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on May 14, 2016 9:39:19 GMT -6
bahar from the dawn of time to the end of days High in the mountains of Bahar's birthplace, in the mist that clogged the steep crevasses of Onea's spine, it was easy to lose track of seasons. In the dead of winter, it sometimes seemed to a young Bahar like the snow had lived there for years; by the solstice, summer was a long-forgotten dream.
Her mothers, hard-working farmers who toiled to draw life from the mountainside during the short growing season, had taught her and her flock of siblings the signs of coming spring: dampness on the trees, hollow patches in the snow, green in the valley.
Warmth took its time crawling up the crags to their home near the clouds, but when the villages below began to burst with color, her family had always moved from the gray mountaintops to celebrate Kaia's spring with the herd. That was how Bahar truly kept track of her early years, now that she was old; every misty cold pit was punctuated with a week of brightness, with warm food and colors, with her father's laughter.
As a farmhand from the summit of Skeldr, the Flower Festival made up most of Bahar's early memories of the foothills; it marked every great thing that had happened in her life. Her father had won their second farm in a duel before the Stone Circle, her mother had plaited flowers in her mane for her wedding day. The festival had marked her husband's acceptance into the Shields, her own later inauguration to the Circle, and, she recalled fondly, the first time she'd seen Hetta. A whole life had happened with a backdrop of flowers.
The mountains were far off now, rolled away in half a century of mist, but looking at the colors outside, Bahar's heart was full.
She exited her home in the late morning, headed for the industrious square where the festival was beginning to come to life. Fillies strung garlands, and merchants pitched tents; she even saw the Shields stamping down the dirt arena for duels and wondered if she had one more year of fighting left in her.
The answer was, of course, always yes.
She answered every greeting she received as her people looked up to her from their work, and felt warmth in her bones that couldn't be solely attributed to the sunshine. It had been a long, cold winter. The freeze had nearly cracked the herd, and Bahar could not think of a more welcome guest than spring.
|
|
|
|
Post by Silverfallingstar on May 14, 2016 10:13:30 GMT -6
Kathra|Valkyrie
The lack of snow was something to look forward too every year.
As much as the valkyrie loved snow and ice, these was always something special about the short summers of her homeland. She left her snow leopard pelt in her quarters today, there would be no need of it. Standing tall, or as tall as someone 14 hands high could, she strode out into the city with a vigor she always had for this time of year. Happy for once, that she wouldn't have to miss anything because a few ornery apana decided to be difficult on their way to market from the farmhouse.
The city was alive, and a warm breeze was gliding through the air as the sun shone above them. Kaia and Ayla had blessed them with a good spring this year it seemed, after the long and harsh winter.
As she weaved her way through the traffic of other herd horses the chimera looked up to see a familiar speckled pelt and blond mane a little ways off. A grin spread across her face and she felt like a yearling again as she raced towards her great aunt Bahar. Sure the member of the circle was a bit traditional at times, but Kathra had never really managed the formal greeting for the large mare that she did for the others who weren't in her family.
"Aunty Bahar! Are you gonna fight in the arena again this year? Are you? Are you? You always have the best fights!"
Her cloven hooves skidded her to a stop next to the larger mare, her eyes full of that youthful admiration that never quite left her, despite her quickly approaching adulthood.
WC: 282
|
|
|
|
Post by savannauni on May 15, 2016 6:35:27 GMT -6
Zestoka | Valkyrie | Piss Pot
Zestoka adored the flower festival. She had locked down her camp site so no one could steal any valuables, which was easy since there was next to nothing to take. She stepped out into the still crisp an chili air then set out for the village in a light hearted trot. While Zet seemed like a serious no nonsense kick your ass kinda gal she loved this celebration, maybe it was the flowers that drew her in or maybe it was conversing with others. The air warmed up quickly with the sun shining down upon all of Onea. Zet paused on the mountain and looked down at the village. Even from here she could see the bright flowers that had taken over the village. She headed down to the gates following a steady flow of horses.
Once she got inside the large draft mare stretched herself out and shook her name out, what should she do this year? Adorn her mane in flowers? Join in a friendly wrestling competition(and beat all the stallions)? Or maybe try the cuisine first? There were so many possibilities today. A smile stuffed at her lips as she walked through the village, looking over wares of venders and seeing Bahar.
Zet saw the mare and her eyes light up as she walked towards the other mare. Zet would never have the guts to say it aloud but she looked up to the older mare wanting to be as accomplished as her, a hero figure in her eyes. The only horse to top Bahar would be Hira herself who save Zestoka from slavery so long ago.
"Hello." She said to both Bahar and Kathra and nodded her head.
|
|
|
|
Post by Jennycallie on May 26, 2016 15:20:48 GMT -6
Hira and Arro | War Lord and Gryphon
(and also Alistair because I am an A+ sister)
Only the strongest, most enduring of flowers could grow through stone, forcing their way through cracks that sought to smother them- but the blooms were all the most startling in their beauty, when they finally emerged. So it was with the grin that kept twitching across Hira's face, try as she might to suppress her mirth. But truly, the Flower Festival was no time for hiding joy- though this joy came at a high price indeed, and at another's expense.
The War Lord had left her stone home that morning with a bounce in her step, and utterly ignoring the dour expression of her remaining Shield on duty, Alistair. His irritation stemmed not so much from being on duty, but from being on duty, alone, while his leader immersed herself in an inebriated, un-inhibited crowd, with equines from all over Onea. The fact that he was likely to be bedecked in flowers and... propositions... only added to the palomino's foul mood.
Or it might have had something to do with the way Arro had kept falling from the sky with a mighty skree, talons swiping at Alistair's horns, his mane, his plumed tail.
"He's only doing it to get a rise out of you," Hira said, struggling to disguise the amusement in her voice. She rather failed.
"I am shipping that flea-bag straight to Aodh when I get my hooves on him," Alistair growled, setting his hooves down with a touch more force than usual.
Arro had continued to harry the Shield for most of the walk down the mountain path, finally peeling away as they neared Skeldr Town. Alistair continued to glower, his piercing gaze skewering any equine who so much as took a step towards Hira, who rolled her own eyes.
"It is a celebration, Alistair," she reprimanded, and got a growl in return.
So the pair wound their way thus through the throng, a riot of colours and perfumed air, laughter and shouts, while Hira despaired of enjoying any of it herself.
Finally, it happened. Hira had spied a group of downright predatory looking young mares, clearly prowling the crowd for a suitable partner. Deliberately Hira swung in their direction, so that her tall, golden protector was between her and the mares. He cut quite the figure, even glowering and snorting, which Hira was rather banking on.
The bait was taken.
In a matter of heartbeats, Alistair had been surrounded, garland upon garland of flowers thrown across his neck, his horns, his- tail? Hira wondered idly, as she slipped away from the giggling, seething mass of estrogen and Alistair, how they had managed that.
So it was that Hira came upon a gathering of some familiar faces, a grin still splitting her own.
"Kathra, Zestoka," she greeted the Valkyries, pale jade eyes still twinkling. Her dancing gaze traveled upwards then, and up some more. "Bahar," she added. "Enjoying the day, I trust?"
Even as the pony spoke, she kept one ear cocked behind her, listening for the sounds of an enraged Alistair, who no doubt would be on to her trail quick enough. Unless those mares were truly talented. Again, Hira thought of the garland of flowers on his tail, and she snorted with mirth.
|
|
