cut me open [any/foals/pied piper]

[Harmonia]

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This is where it always started, where it always happened.
She'd feel the ebb and flow of the stress of the foal and decide to leave it. It was a boy ,she knew that, and she let it happen like she had time and time again. Never, ever would it seem luck would give her a girl. She'd tried to change it mid-pregnancy once...what a disaster.
They were all disasters. That's why she left them.
She'd birth them in the meadow, right where it meets the Adoption Den. Then she'd bestow on them some gift so she could find them later. Covet and Sloan had orange eyes - her only two great children! The rest rotted away like the corpses they all were. Her line was too perfect to have such a string of fucking failures. She hated them all.

And push came to shove, came to push...push...push!

The sweet eyes of a baby boy. Palomino, the color of herself...with his fathers apricot mane and tale. She was such a sucker for those men with their color - flashy. Important. Reminding her of a certain orange eyed beast she loved like only a mother could. She thinks of him in his grave all these hundreds of years after his birth and aches for that loss. For that hole.

Surgery looks up at her with those wide, beautiful eyes. Her eyes.

She must have more.

Without thinking too much more on the topic she closes her eyes and feels for all the children in the area. Young, all younger than two, all of them would be hers. She'd bring them to her then, snatching them in the night with trickery and foolery. Some would follow an enchanting melody to find her here and her birth-covered son. Others would chase butterflies or other apparitions. Straight from their safe beds to her.

She wanted them all. She wanted them now.

harmonia. surgery.
when the pied piper calls, you come

[Noroëlle]

Rhosyn wasn’t the type to lose sight of her children. She is a caring mother that want’s the best for her offspring. Sure she might have been stern sometimes and didn’t shy away from rebuking her children, but she loved them dear. Glenwing, Faolin, Dalamar, Kellin and Zokora, all named after fantasy creatures and story characters. And all raised in the Tundra, where the black mare had served her King brother and King nephew. But things wouldn’t be like that for Noroëlle, her youngest. She lost the newborn dark girl out of sight during her little nap on their trip back to the Tundra and by the time she gave up her search her voice was all hoarse from the constant screaming for her little girl. And all Rhosyn can hope for is that someone will find the little girl and raise her to be a fine lady.


Her stomach growls loudly and Noroëlle cannot help but to look around desperately. She calls out, her voice shrill and high. Panic and loneliness settle in, as her mother seems to be gone without leaving any traces. The small girl wanders around the Den, with only the fairies to keep her company. Calming words are uttered and the wind that sometimes grazes her skin remind her of her mother’s gentle touches.

It are the same fairies that guide her towards the border of the Den, pushing her in the direction that leads to the meadow. Like they told her she had to go that way to find her mother. Her aby blue eyes are slightly wide as she hesitantly steps forward, but soon she is lured. It are no longer the encouraging fairies that drive her forward, no, there is someone pulling her in that direction.

”Mommy!” she exclaims loudly, a wide and relieved grin appearing upon her black and white face. The black sabino girl dashes forward, ears pointing in the golden mare’s direction and blue eyes sparking with unshed (relieved) tears.

OOC: If it's okay with you, I'd like Roëlle to think of Harmonia as her mother (and Surgery as her twinbrother?)

[beastie]

Not for her, butterflies or flowers or lyrical chimes on the wind. No caress from her mother or warm milk to greet her. When she opened her eyes from her insensibility it was to a world fierce and snarling. She lifted a lip and growled back. Savage dark eyes, incongruous with her young features, shone into the dawn light. The girl was a tangle of limbs, orange legs jutting out from a rich black body, and a silver blaze on her forehead with a splash of orange interrupting what beauty might have been. Pale white tendrils of hair knotted and tangled from her rump. Some day, she would be fearsome.

It would be impossible to tell if the child were abandoned or escaped, this orange and black girl. She knew another had left the warm, dark cave with her but where he had gone she did not know. His scent was burned upon her nose but she cared not at all for where he had gone. Soon he was forgotten, her twin, as if he had never been.

She lunged to her feet, gracelessly, curious in the wary way of wild things. The creatures of illusion she saw were fox-like, but larger, with elongated fangs and mirrored black eyes. Like her, they possessed no charm or anything to beguile the eye. They were purely formed of instinct. The child felt at home with them at once. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she left the place of her birth and followed the foxlets across the meadow.

They showed her honeysuckle and clover and bitter running water, and she hated them, but instinctively she knew they would keep her alive and so she ate. And when she was ready, they took her to their mother. A wolf-creature with two more fox-creatures twining about her feet.

The child came to a halt at a distance from the trio, a rumbling in her chest as her eyes focused but averted. She was wholly theirs, this makeshift family. The pied piper had called and she had embraced the bugle sounds with all of her wild heart.

ooc: beastie sees you all as wolf/fox creatures. ;-)

[Harmonia]

We've claimed Volcanic Village - plz to see reply there! All are welcome