spice and everything nice { anyone from anywhere }

[Snapdragon]

sweet sweet sugar and a little bit of snap

The night was a cold one, sheets of sparkling snow lay across the field in sloping drifts. Small hooves push down deep with every step, a chubby white belly hits the snow's surface. Striding not so gracefully along, more like trudging. Snapdragon was not very tall in the slightest, making her tummy look larger in comparison to stubby legs. The golden and white tipped girl was definitely not at an advantage here, but she kept on moving. Hoping to at least find a spot in the field where she could actually stand without snow practically up to her chin. 

Horses were strewn all over this large area, all seemingly trying to group up. She was not one to be alone, but she figured she wouldn't bother a big group, too many names to learn. She snorted. She couldn't wait to reach a good spot, her blue eyes scanned the area, luckily they landed on a small bare patch under a tree on the edge of the field. "Perfect!!" she said allowed as she began to jump like a deer to get through the snow and down to the bare patch. As soon as she reached it, she circled a few times and let her knees buckle, sending her chubby rump crashing down with a loud thud. She let out a huge sigh, "how tiring..., this was definitely a lot of work for the small girl, but she managed. At least she was in a more comfortable spot, though she hoped someone wouldn't be as blind as to look over her bright gold and white form laying beneath the pine. She was ready to find a home.

Snapdragon

(so hard getting used to new characters!! and I suck at starting posts! and apparently suck at posting because I first posted this in html lab LOL)

[Romek]

fuck all your dreams; they're not all they seem.

The tiger-man was used to the cold by now. For a time in his life he thought that he would never be able to say that – the days of the Deserts, where sun and sand ruled. And then came the Tundra, icy cold in all its might, and then came the falling-down and the building back up… Taiga was a good deal warmer than the Tundra ever was, but steeped in winter, it was still a very cold place indeed. But it didn’t bother him. He wondered what their first spring would be like – the first spring of a place that nobody had ever seen before.

He finds himself in the Field today, because that’s where he had walked to to begin with. There were too many homeless around, after all, after everything that had happened. And Taiga must rise.

It’s hard at first to pick out a horse more deserving than the others, and so for a while he just sits and watches with still golden eyes, ankle deep in the snow, when he notices a small pony bounding along, very much like the deer of his home. He watches as she settles herself down on a more snowless patch, before making a move towards her, effortlessly moving through the snow as his fifteen hand frame would allow.

”Hello there,” he calls to her. ”I’m Romek. Who might you be?” he pauses and snorts, looking around him. ”Snow’s a bit deep.”

Romek

[Camelia]

I will run the streets and hostile lands, I will touch the rain with all I have
I will breathe the air, to scream it loud. My feet will never touch the ground.

The sky above her reminds Camelia of the prettier, better things in life. With the sun fully digested by the horizon, the darkness is an unfathomable depth were it not for the immense constellations and their loving moon. The stars are pale, twinkling freckles against the dark skin of the night and she cranes her neck back to watch them dance. They are so very far away and her heart aches for Heaven’s Gates.

Her father used to take her to the top of his favorite hill (the one that looked out over the beauty of the kingdom) late at night, sneaking out from under her mother’s nose. The breeze was always a little chilly, but Camelia would snuggle against her father’s protective shoulder and she’d be warmer. The stars seemed closer then – as if she could reach her small nose out and touch them. Those were her favorite times with Finnley. Sometimes he would tell stories (about the bear he once encountered, about the constellation shaped like a swan, about how he met Kaelie) and sometimes they would sit quietly and watch the stars twinkle.

Camelia inhales the bitter air slowly, allowing it to burn as it slides through her lungs. It wakes her from her wistful dreaming, forcing her to focus on reality. Tephra is in need of members and there are many homeless souls all desiring a place to rest their heads. She hadn’t planned to stay in the Field into the night, but the wintery sunset had been gorgeous and the stars even more so.

Lowering her neck, the slender mare glances around the Field. There isn’t too much activity – the day’s snowing has left the welcoming clearing high with drifts and slick with ice – but a mare hopping along catches Camelia’s interest. A smile stretches over her lips and she begins to pick her way through the snow to reach the small pony. By the time she gets there, a stallion has also arrived. His glowing spots draw Camelia’s eyes and she watches them dance in the night. Everything glows around them, illuminated by the moon and its dancing lights, but his spots seem to glow even more than everything around them.

She hears the tail end of the stallion’s words about the snow and her brown eyes brighten. “It makes everything glow, doesn’t it?” Camelia smiles once more, and despite the nighttime it is as if the sun has appeared again. “It’s just such a beautiful night.” She sighs contently, genuinely. “I’m Camelia.”

Camelia

[Wyrm]

Nighttime, the hour of the dead. Or so far as he can remember, the hour of silence. Though, truth be told, dead things were also silent so Wyrm supposes the latter of the two statements is more becoming when one thinks of nighttime and all her mysteries. That is, of course, if you’re fond of the night and Wyrm can easily say that he is. It’s not so much the terror of the hour that entices him, more so along the lines that something easily seen in the daylight could be totally concealed in the dark. Everything about the night plays tricks - vision, hearing, intentions … all a matter of interpretation when the darkness surrounds you. Brave men's bowels turn to water quicker in the dark than anything Wyrm’s ever seen before.

But tonight’s not really that sort of night, given the fact that every star strewn across the sky seems to reflect its brilliance onto the snow beneath it. The Field is practically aglow with pale, white light, and the color gives a silver edge to everything it touches. Even now, as the oddly green stallion makes his way through the drifts of snow, it seems to add an edge he’s never had before when the sun is overhead. He quite likes it. So much so that it softens his otherwise strange mood and sets him straight on a path to a small gathering of horses packed away from the mainlanders. There’s three (he sees this now as he draws nearer to them, two had been covering a third from view) and they seem to be … recruiting.

To him, Beqanna seems to have changed very little.

“Mind if I join?” He calls out, easing past the dun mare and the seemingly black stallion to take a stance nearby. He’s left to face the golden girl who seems to be the fervent object of their intentions and in her, he sees nothing but hope. How … quaint. “My name is Wyrm.” He supplies, mismatched eyes dancing from one to the next.

WYRM

Offspring of Lupei x Zojja