and every spell and scourge of god may be obedient unto me thou spiritual sun: satan, thou eye, thou lust.
There was a difference between the stallion that stood on the edge of the Field and the man he'd been a few years prior - years where someone might have recognized the rhino's horn that rose from his forehead and split at its end like something electrocuted. Not better, certainly not better. But perhaps less willing to show his hand as early. Age brought wisdom but not a lengthening of temper, and Arka had only grown more poisonous.
The stallion he'd once been would have resented standing there, seething at the implication that he was directionless and needed to be scooped up. He might have foregone the ritual entirely, instead continuing to wander...but that had been what got him in trouble in the first place.
No, instead he stood and waited, a hind hoof cocked behind him to shift his weight.
He'd been here before, when the land had been shaped a little differently and the Chamber had still held sway. He'd recruited. He'd walked these same paths, in the crispness of winter and humid grip of summer. The beauty of autumn didn't escape him, but there was very little that could be read from him outwardly. He looked bored.
His eyes scanned over the herds of mares grazing together, occasionally giving him a glance as if waiting for him to make a move. In another life he might have, gathered some others and unfurled some lecherous retreat. Gone, he thinks.
He can't resent the implication that he's directionless, because he is.
ARKA
the wandering scumbag
OOC: Looking for any and all offers. Been a couple years since I've been on Beqanna and I've got to learn about the new kingdoms, etc. Seems like the best way to do it. - Kaily
The crisp winter air brought the dappled mare out of hiding, her home barren as the trees lost there leaves. It seemed as good a time as any to visit the field, a trip she has not made in some time.
She took her time to reach the field, but the movement kept her warm as the days grew colder. She cautiously explored, a target still on her back until Sinner comes back a champion from his battle. Her belly grew a new spawn, but she still held onto her slim figure for another weeks at least.
As she thought about heading home as a failed visit her eyes catch another. A bay stag with horns protruding from his head. A small grin appears on her maw, as her eyes scan the thin white blanket on the floor she allowed her pelt to match it, though her hooves remained ruby.
She trots up to the stranger, coming to a halt before him. Hello there, her head turning to scan the horizon before shifting back. What brings you out to the field? She looks at him with curiosity, though she was not able to pick up a scent on him.
and every spell and scourge of god may be obedient unto me thou spiritual sun: satan, thou eye, thou lust.
Though he found socializing to be an incredible bore at best, a tedious and maddening strain at worst, he was grateful for the stranger's intrusion on his observations. The mares waiting for someone to come pick them up were grating on his nerves, the occasional laughter - which could only be described as an unflattering bray - spilling from their grazing circle a poorly veiled attempt at getting the attention of anyone walking by.
That his annoyance was his own problem never occured to him.
The mare that spoke to him was striking, her hooves like streaks of blood through the lightly dusted ground. She smelled like leaf-cover, the pleasant depth of a forest.
Her question is unwelcome if only because he can't think of an answer that doesn't make him angry. He recognized the importance of choking the impulse to reply with something unkind. (Your problem, not hers.) It wasn't a rationale so much as the knowledge that he wouldn't get anywhere without at least pretending to understand civility.
He nodded his head towards the mares laughing shrilly. "Eavesdropping on some scintillating conversation," he joked sarcastically before shaking his neck to rid his mane of a few stray snowflakes falling from the sky. "That, and I heard this is where people with no other place to go visit. Seems stupid in retrospect."
He was hard to read, her presence didn't seem to bother him, but at the same time he appeared happier alone. She also didn't care too much, and it was too late.
He motions his head towards a group of mares, noting he was eavesdropping. She slightly laughs as she watches the herd of mares, rather annoying bunch. The dappled queen much preferred stallions over mares, her encounter with the same gender had never been pleasant. Anything interesting? She asks as her eyes remain on the group.
They were all moody, and mostly backstabbing. It was easier to find a loyal friend in a stag. Her eyes shift back to the oddly horned male when he spoke again. This time he expands, that he heard the field was where you go when you had nowhere else.
She nods her head slowly, Seems to be that way, she shrugs. They also come here to find a home, is that what you are seeking? Her head tilts ever so slightly, curious to the intentions of this stranger.
and every spell and scourge of god may be obedient unto me thou spiritual sun: satan, thou eye, thou lust.
Arka, for his part, was an equal opportunity misanthrope. He didn't much care for anyone. If the group of mares hadn't been in front of him to pick apart and instead some stallions were posturing, he would have been equally as annoyed. In his mind, he reduced them all to stereotypes. He saw no differences, himself as an aberration simply finding entertainment in the meantime. (The narcissism was, classically, lost on him.)
Purpose, more like. But the hard part about finding purpose was that it required something to care about. So he latched on to ideas instead of others.
Left too long without something to defend, to care about, to consider worth his energy...Arka was better driven out, kept away. Boredom was a bone he gnawed on, and if left with it too long it would snap in half from frantic gnawing.
He considers her question. He was dirt, but he wasn't a liar. Even he had standards. "A job," he finally decides on, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth as he picked his words. "I don't really need a home, but I do need something to do. If that's defending someone else's home, that's fine with me." He left out the part about as long as they don't get in my way.
"You got one of those? A home?"
ARKA
the wandering scumbag
@[Mary]
RE: scattered in the mud; any - Castile - 07-10-2019
and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
”What kind of job?” Castile’s voice is low, rumbling from his throat as he lumbers toward the pair with an arrogant, predatory sway. The muscles in his shoulders ripple, visually chiseled even underneath his winter coat. There is a mischievous gleam in his eyes as they flicker from male to female.
Ah, Mary.
Of course, he had seen her – smelled her, even – but he plays surprised to see her here for a fleeting moment. Truthfully, Castile solely mistrusted the Sylvan leaders. They could have kept their home if they remained loyal despite the ongoing tension. But gloating isn’t on his agenda. ”Mary,” he mumbles her name emptily; his voice lacks anger or joy. It’s as level as the barren plateaus of Pangea. For a hearts breadth, he holds her eyes curiously prior to tipping his head back in acknowledgment of the male. ”I’m Castile,” he offers after a brief skim from beneath his unruly forelock. And although his question – which came after Arka’s final statement – was mostly answered, the Loessian stands in quiet patience for a response while mulling over the opportunities.
There is much to offer. The opportunities are potentially endless now. But where to begin?
After another moment’s pause, deliberate and thoughtful, Castile presses on. ”I can perhaps provide you a purpose in Loess, for starters. Loyalty is easily rewarded and challenges always possible. It all depends on what direction you see yourself, what ambitions litter your mind.” His mismatched eyes gleam roguishly, his lopsided grin softening the hard ridges and scars of his face.
Her gaze remains on Arka as he ponders her question. A few moments pass before he finally responds, a job is what he is looking for. It was interesting that he responds with that, most equines want to be protected without working for it.
She didn't get the chance to respond, as soon as the vile smell of the dragon creature passed her nares his voice coild be heard from behind. He inquires what kind of job Arka was seeking, she rolls her eyes before turning to view the white and black stag.
He finds a spot by the pair, giving a greeting of sorts to Mary. She glances over him for a moment before responding, Castile. She did not fear him, though perhaps she should a bit more. The outcome is what it is, though she wishes her children were not run out from there home, she accepts her own fate.
Her eyes flicking back to Akra as he speaks, he asks if she had a home. But again before she could respond Castile barges into the conversation. When he finally falls silent her gaze turns back to the horned stag.
Make sure you know who you are devoting your loyalty too, monsters live in this world. But to answer your question I don't have a home, not now anyway. Her gaze flicks to Castile before returning to Arka, Good luck, I hope you pick the right home! And with her departing words she leaves the group.
MARY
@[Akra] @[Castile] sorry, i didnt mean to run her out but with the changes I wanted to finish up all open threads on my closeted ponies
and every spell and scourge of god may be obedient unto me thou spiritual sun: satan, thou eye, thou lust.
Oh, interesting.
It occured to him that he could be irritated by the mare's sudden departure, or that she'd never had a home and had just been chatting him up for the fun it seemed. But in this case he wasn't, which for Arka meant that a situation had presented him with something equally and even more interesting. Dreams of joining the wrong side just for the fun of it dissappated as the mare disappeared.
The stallion he was now standing with alone was taller than him, built like a wall with a predatory grace common to someone familiar with a fight. Arka evaluated almost everyone in these terms, and while he put little stock in size being the determining factor in a tussle, it was something to consider. For his part, heritage and training made Arka naturally muscular and solid, though he lacked the sheer presence of something reptile in the other stallion.
There's a sour taste in his mouth at the idea of being provided something, one of several sins poisoning him. Pride won out, though not enough to spoil his response. "I'm Arka. I've done my fair share of fighting. I'm no diplomat - I have the words, and I can speak them nicely enough, but people don't tend to...like me," he said with a punctuated smile, no trace of a joke despite the expression. "I like to earn whatever I'm given though. I don't like hand-outs."
A stallion came along near the group of mares Arka had been watching, sweeping them off to somewhere with little convincing.
"What are Loess' goals? Peace? Power? Domination?"
ARKA
the wandering scumbag
No problem @[Mary]! Thanks for threading - my first one back after a long BQ hiatus. @[Castile]
RE: scattered in the mud; any - Castile - 07-16-2019
Mary quickly dismisses herself, an act that Castile should have anticipated. What could she possibly do here? Sylva is no longer hers to own, to recruit for, to love. It’s a casket of memories that she abandons with a snide glance and rushed steps. Quietly amused, he watches her departure before swinging his gaze back to the male whilst observing the rhinoceros horn protruding. A fascinating upgrade, he muses with eyes that glimmer thoughtfully and mischievously.
”Arka,” he repeats in a low whisper before crinkling his chin and nodding as though in approval, ”well met.” They hold each other’s attention, Castile’s intrigue piqued by the soldier’s confession. It berths a low, gravely chuckle. ”That’s fairly relatable. I’ve always been geared toward fighting as well. I never possessed an eloquent tongue,” although he isn’t terrible at the trade, it certainly isn’t his forte. Thus far, he has been fortunate in that most of his diplomatic visits have been among friends and family. Those outside of the ring are more commonly enemies that do not deserve kind words and amiable smiles. His world, it appears, is starkly black and white. ”Loess can certainly use more soldiers,” he rests the bait down thoughtfully, contemplating what role the kingdom will have in the near future. ”No, no. I don’t give freebies. You earn what you deserve,” he pauses to look at the worn path Mary took to leave, ”And I will it back if you prove dishonest or disloyal.” For a fleeting moment, a stern sense of malice shadows his brow. ”Mary was a victim of that.”
He says nothing more of the matter, deciding instead to veer toward Arka’s question. It lightens his face, albeit slightly as the battle relives in the back of his thoughts.
There is so much that he can say, so much that he can admit to. So, why hesitate? Dishonesty boils his blood and so he decides against it. Instead, he rests in front of Arka an open book. ”To give you a taste – Loess is ambitious. We do not bend to anyone. We recently destroyed half of another kingdom during a war. We – I – just took back Sylva from the hands of traitors,” Loess would have supported him, but it was a sole battle between kings that he took victory over. It was Castile that ripped the forest from traitorous hands – no one else. ”We enjoy chaos and waking up a slumbering Beqanna, but we also know when to sit back and relax.” In a sense, it can be perceived as domination, but he hesitates to use the word. ”Through friends and family, Loess’ reach is expanding. It has found success on the shoulders of those that work hard and work for the benefit of the kingdom. There is potential found in many places now should you have the interest or ambition.”
