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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    brothers, sisters, let me be your shelter || MANDATORY KINGDOM MEETING [ALL]
    #11
    The colt heard his words and chased through the slush to listen. He slows and stops just seconds before his words begin, and he sees a few others have arrived as well. He sees his mother, sister, and younger brother coming as well - Rael had turned four and his younger brother one now. He, himself, was now a matured stallion at the age of three.

    "Offspring, I wish to be a Warrior." He hears, and it is from his sister - Rael! Her form, smooth and lean, was healthy, well formed, and fit. His was still lanky, and had a bit of filling out to do yet; he was, indeed, only newly a stallion at barely three years old.

    "And I desire to become a Warrior as well, King." He says with respect, as his mother looks at the two of them lovingly. She had raised them to be strong, fierce, and loyal equine - with a good heart and proper inentions. Their mother, flicking her ears forwards and looking towards the King once more, spoke her choice. "I wish to be a Diplomat, Offspring." She says proudly, looking at her newest son with a shining love.
    #12

    BROTHER, LET ME BE YOUR FORTRESS, WHEN THE NIGHT WINDS ARE DRIVING ON.
    I CAN BE THE ONE TO LIGHT YOUR WAY; I WILL BRING YOU HOME.

      One by one, each of them gather - some apprehensive, some eager to hear the bellowing of his words. The echo is substantial, in part because of the thin air, which he breathes in greedily as he awaits both physical and verbal reaction from those coming near to him. His dark eyes scan the various faces, some of which are familiar and some of which are less so. The permafrost that lingers behind the heavy ice wall that surrounds their lands is many miles long, and it is not unusual to go an extended period of time without seeing or hearing another soul stirring. There is one face in particular that is amiss - and though his heart sinks within his chest, he cannot even attempt to feign surprise.

      Sometimes, matters of the heart fall to the wayside, and with it, the love that once lingered there.
    Only time would tell what he should - or could - expect. He did not anticipate he would occupy Isle's side in the frigid evenings much longer.

      Emotions wash over him like the heavy ebb and flow of the ocean tide, though he clenches his jaw tightly to conceal them behind an otherwise stoic exterior. Now is no time to linger upon it - his responsibility lie first with the Kingdom, and he could not allow his mind to wander at such a detrimental time. Change was a heavy burden, strewn across the horizon, and it would wait for no one. His gaze lingers upon Vaughan; a once troubled young male who had since blossomed into himself. The way he held himself now was something that made Offspring proud to know him, and even more grateful to have him as a Brother. He knew he would accomplish great things, in time.

      "A valid point, Vaughan - that is something we can discuss; perhaps it is time to expand - in the very least, for more sustenance." He nods slightly, before casting his gaze towards Ianto, who breathes words of encouragement with a gleeful grin. The slightly uptick of a smile tugs at his whiskered lips; he appreciates his opinion and he is thankful for his presence on this obscenely sun-filled day. He nods slightly to him as their shoulders touch, chuckling softly. "Much appreciated from a great King as yourself, Ianto. I appreciate the support."

      At last, Brynmor comes forward - rather irritable, though it is not altogether unexpected. The change had been one he had not taken lightly, but had admittedly felt no need to run it by anyone else. It was a decision that would - and should - wholly weigh upon his own shoulders, which he rolls uncomfortably as his muscles ripple beneath his skin. His eyes meet Brynmor's icy blue, and he listens carefully, but he offers a glimpse into the warmth of his soul. He understands the concern, but alas. "The initiation will continue. Those wishing to seek rank, both male and female, will be expected to still enter the cave in order to assimilate into our culture. The magic has shifted, and it will no longer turn away anyone who is of age. If you are capable emotionally, and physically, it will take you - but be warned; it will not be a gentle process. No more than it ever has been."

      He allows the air to clear for a long moment, lungs exhaling a long breath of air that he'd been holding too long. A rumbling chuckle rises from his lungs as Brynmor's daughter, much to his chagrin, pipes up, eager to be a part of history. An exhausted Roan lingers at Brynmor's side, riddled with fatigue and weakness. He cannot keep the worried flash from flickering in his eyes. His own precious daughter, Maribel, steps forward as well, and he simply gazes to her with a mixture of his own concern and pride, which fills him to the very brim. Lieschel nestles against him, and he leans gently against her, savoring the warmth of her sweet touch. She is young, but she will not be for long. He makes a mental note to speak with her soon. Neverwas does not say a word, but the look in his excited eyes is not easily missed. He locks his gaze with his, giving him a solemn nod of encouragement. No words needed.

      At last, he looks to G'ren, with her children in tow. All familiar to him, and he breathes a low sigh. "Very well, G'ren. Rael Fire. Real Fire. You, too, are welcome within our ranks - but again, at a price."

      His searing red eyes peer over the crowd of many, both male and female, as the weight of the news continues to fester and simmer in many of their minds. Though some were hesitant, others were bubbling with mirth, and that alone is immensely satisfying to the scarred King. Once more, with a finality of its own, he speaks once more, his voice booming again. 

       "For all of those who are eager to become a part of our culture - our Brotherhood and Sisterhood alike; meet me tomorrow morning - at dawn - at the edge of the cave for your initiation. It is time to prove your worth to the runes, to gain the mark of solidarity and to join with us. For the rest of you, thank you for lending an ear. You are all welcome, as residents or otherwise, and I could not be more proud of those I serve. If you have any concerns, you know how to find me."




    OFFSPRING

    the ice king of the tundra




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