"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
YOU CAN STAND ME UP AT THE GATES OF HELL, BUT I WON'T BACK DOWN.
The air is heavy, damp and weighted by sulfur, but there is a gentle breeze that bathes him in its resplendence. The sunlight peeks out from behind a shield of clouds, illuminating the lustrous, vibrant land that lay before him. Long gone is the land of ice and permafrost, permanently etched as a memory that would linger within his heart of hearts, but no longer is it a part of him, seizing his soul with its frigid, crystalline grasp.
Though he pines for its bittersweet, frostbitten caress against his heavy body, which is so thick with sinewy muscle and rigid bone that he is a radiator of heat in and of himself, he has grown used to the burning embers of a stoked flame within him. Though absent now in the wake of the aftermath, the burning had grown stronger and more prevalent as the weary months rolled on and he had grown used to the way it burned him within. A ceaseless reminder of what had been, of the nightmare he had endured, forever marking him a fire-wielder, though his heart yearned for ice.
While warm, the land is nothing short of breathtaking - with dense stalks of greenery, which wave so gently in the breeze, a pristine and untouched spring to provide warmth and atmosphere but potentially too scalding to touch. Far off in the distance, there is a the open mouth of a river branching from the ebb and tide of the sea, filtering away the salt and providing icy nourishment in an otherwise humid land. Surrounded on each end by the salty sea, it is a refuge, a sanctuary in and of itself - breathtaking in the way that the fog carries so low to the ground, shielding the bubbling volcano partially from sight - but oh, what splendor it is.
His limbs grow still, and he can feel the movement of others that follow. His fiery gaze take in the sight before him, his heart full, his mind rampant, his soul ready. At last, he maneuvers the breadth of his body to face those before him, which gather in awe (and perhaps some in disgust; humidity and sulfur can be difficult to acclimate to but the lustrous beauty of it is inspiring), and soon his voice bellows out.
"Brothers, sisters - today, we come together as one, to work towards something better for ourselves and for each other. Our kingdoms have been tainted by war and history, but today we leave our bindings behind us. Today, we unite. Out of the ashes we will emerge, victorious, humbled and wise - this is Tephra; we have been given the opportunity to rebuild, to create what had already previously been forged long before our time. We are its craftsmen, and now we begin. I will not rule alone - I am no King," He bellows out. "let us rule by council - a representative of each."
"Malis, with her strength and resolve, to represent the Chamber," His heart is heavy - how he longs for Killdare, to know where his friend has gone - so many were still missing, he can only imagine how many others feel the same emptiness within at his absence. "Magnus, with his wisdom and understanding, to represent the Gates." A heavy, solemn nod is given to the dappled buckskin. Without him, it would be a fragmented whole. "Eight, with his fierce mind and careful calculation, to represent the Valley." His eyes meet with the dark bay, a warmth lingering between proverbial brothers. "And finally, I am Offspring - to represent the Tundra."
His mind lingers upon Sahm, a trusted friend of both himself and of Magnus, who will be held in high regard, as Nymphetamine, too, would be.
"Together, we will merge our ideals and move towards something daunting and new, but united together, we can accomplish anything. Tell us, what is it you would like to see going forward? Your input is important; this is not only our land - but it is yours, too. Speak now. Let your voice be heard!"
OFFSPRING
Hi guys!
Tephra will be ruled by a council of four - Offspring, Malis, Magnus and Eight.
Beyond that, we'd like to know what YOU want to see.
Please answer in character, but feel free to add any details of your ideas in an OOC note or PM one of us.
Do we want castes? Do we want tasks? Perhaps a more loosely based sanctuary, with no ranking system?
Do we want diplomacy involved in leadership, i.e. representatives to be elected and voted upon for the council every 2-3 BQ years?
This is a completely new land, with all slates wiped clean - do we want to go back to tradition or try something new?
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.
Camelia knows she will mourn Heaven’s Gates with a fierceness she will not feel otherwise. There is something so achingly hollow about the place you called home being destroyed forever. To never whisper secrets against the rough bark of the Mother Tree, to never walk alongside the gentle branches of the willow trees, to never find the place where Mast and she came together – it tugged at her heart in a way she hadn’t felt before. The loss that she drowned in clogged her blood vessels and choked her lungs. But Camelia has forced herself to breathe otherwise – to find a different way to get the oxygen she needs that the Gates can’t provide any longer. That is what grief and mourning and reconciliation is about; finding a way to survive and compensate without the things you once thought you needed.
So she puts her mind to other things – to the tasks at hand, to aiding Magnus, to building someplace that might echo the tender love her home once provided. She follows them into their new home, lingering at the back of the group. She is wise in her age, and she feels no urgency. There will be time – days, weeks, months – to discover the new homes Beqanna has provided. She allows the youths to take the lead, allowing herself a slower pace to accommodate for her injured leg. Although the gash has stopped freely bleeding, the scabbing and pain is still severe. There is a constant, dull ache in the bone of her shoulder, as well as a lingering biting pain on her skin. Camelia’s gait limps along, also partially leading her to take the rear of the group.
The most noticeable thing Camelia notices is the smell. It certainly is no flowery aroma, instead a sharp tang that lingers in her nostrils well after she exhales. She resists the urge to put on a face of disgust. Instead she sends up a silent prayer of thanks to Beqanna. They have at least blessed them with a home to call their own, to protect them and welcome them. The rest have stopped in front of her and the aging mare slowly limps closer. The mighty black stallion is giving a speech. Although she hasn’t met him yet, Camelia knows he was the Tundra’s king.
Her heart swells when Magnus is mentioned and her eyes turn toward him. She nods although he might not see her. She still lingers near the rear, content with listening and not joining the pushing throng of excited youths. So she waits until he opens the floor for discussion. Camelia feels a tug to speak her piece. The Mother Tree, her parents, Heaven’s Gates, Fiasko, Mast – they all have influenced her to believe there should always be a place that accepts and loves and welcomes everyone no matter who they are or where they came from. It is a part of her personality, her history, her beliefs; she knows she should implement it somewhere that it is sure to be impressionable.
Her warm voice rises before anyone else might speak. “I believe we should have a code of acceptance.” Camelia shifts her weight slightly, wincing as her leg spikes with pain before dulling again. “I don’t care much for whatever ranking system we choose to implement. But I do think we should accept, welcome, and love anyone who walks through our borders.” Whether they are all on the same level of authority, or if they must work their way to the top, she does not care. As long as they love, protect, and adore. “Beqanna has shown us that she does not appreciate hate over silly racial differences. Tephra should respect that and even embrace it. Everyone in Beqanna should know they can come here for anything – safety, comfort, a purpose, or even a place to enjoy life.” Camelia smiles and that bright sunny smile shines through perhaps more than it ever has. Then, as an afterthought, “I’m Camelia, once from the Gates.”
Camelia
In case anything is confusing, to clarify, Camelia thinks Tephra should be a place that does not turn anyone away. She doesn't care about ranking systems or anything, but she does strongly believe this. Those who came here would obviously have to follow some sort of rules, and only be banned from Tephra if they did something incredibly serious. In order to stop chaos and disrespect, there could be a warning system I suppose. If they are warned three times and haven't stopped, maybe give them some sort of task or have them do something disciplinary.
But anyway, Camelia believes Tephra should be open to anyone, accepting of whomever walks in, and friendly toward everyone.
Few come, but they gather around the big black stallion - he has always been their leader, and they all look to him now, even Spear and Spark do.
They do not recognize the black mare, but then they were never all that familiar with all the Tundrans in the first place. Too much time was spent in each other’s company, playing in the snow and the ice, chasing foxes and staring up at the clouds - things that foals do, and they rarely involved themselves in the goings-on of the kingdom itself and its populace.
But they do recognize the two stallions entwined in one another like Spear & Spark are sometimes entwined in one another. Only love makes you do that, they think, smiling at the pair of stallions who clearly love one another.
More come, mares and stallions alike.
They go too, in search of others - family, friends, lovers.
Spear & Spark remain;
Their father nods to them, solemn and serious. They know his heart is heavy; he longs to be just a stallion at times, in search of his lover and family like the rest do, but he does not - cannot, and they know this, he is a leader first and foremost. It is perhaps the single most quality that Scalped looked for in a stallion before she bred with them, to ensure that her foals were made of the strongest stuff - blood, bone, and muscle, and an undeniable strength of will. The twins might be like him, they are still fresh and moldable as they peer up at him then away.
(Spear & Spark are more than aware of the fact that they are not Offspring and Isle’s children, but they are Scalped’s and that is enough for them. Their father has transgressed against his mate, but they are horses above all else and horses are not monogamous, not wholly so anyway.)
Offspring talks, leaves them, petitions the Mountain and secures a land for all of them --
It seems to happen in the blink of an eye, at least for the twins who come and go, serving no real purpose.
They are children, purpose has yet to reveal itself to them.
A way opens, and the mists start to clear before a path all of them can traverse. They are eager to go, ramping and snorting at the air and the possibility of adventure. It sings in their hearts, loud and clear, and darts through their blood, making their feet dance on the earth. Spear and Spark are eager to see this new land, their bodies shake excitedly beneath their still-shaggy pelts. They can just barely make out the bristling peak of a volcano above the mists that still remain, clouded close about the base of that grand hot thing that juts up from the center of the land. And they can smell water, long before they catch sight of it!
They are quick to break from the herd that tromps through virgin grass, flattening it;
They run, at breakneck speeds amidst peals of laughter, towards the river. Once there, they cool their legs in it, breathing in the sulfur-stink of the air. Small eddies of horsehair twirl away on the currents; it is too humid here for the thickness of their winter pelts to remain and clumps of fur begin to fall away.
Their fur thinned, each of them feels lighter - freer, somehow.
They go back to them, to where their father stands and talks of this day and going forward. Each of them listens, ears upright and attentive to every word that is said. For now, it means little to them - they are here, they are growing up, and they will find a place amongst the rest of them.
ooc: They are all for a council, time to do something a little different than the typical monarchy. Let's shake things up a bit! Also all for the code of acceptance thing. Castes are good too, but maybe be a little more creative there too? Like a caste for battle, a caste for diplomats, a caste for only those that steal and gather information, and maybe a caste for residents who do things of use in the land like recruit, teach the foals, etc? Let's broaden our horizons more and break away from BQ tradition. <3
09-07-2016, 11:21 PM (This post was last modified: 09-07-2016, 11:21 PM by Aranea.)
Give me reason to fill this hole, connect the space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies, across this new divide
it was a strange home. nothing like the valley, which she missed, or even the chamber. those she had known well. once upon a time the tundra, too, had been familiar to her - she had been born and raised on it's snowy peaks. aranea would have welcomed them, now.
it ached to think that they were all gone. that all that was familiar to her had simply vanished. the shadowy mare recognized that they were all in the same proverbial boat, but it did not make the change any easier. aranea had found some solace in the feathered wings that sprouted from her shoulders but she still had not decided if they were worth the cost.
with no magic she had no voice.
locked in her cage again the fiery eyed lady stuck close to their leader, to the spider king who had once known so well her spider queen mother. aranea - named for such - trusted him completely, and sought him now as she approached this little meeting. she recognized no others but was not surprised. those that she had known had likely died in the years of her absence - a somber thought that lingered as she approached those gathered.
offspring asked for input and she could give him none, though she watched intently for the arrival of eight so that perhaps she might have a way to agree or disagree. he would understand and would, perhaps, be able to speak in some way on her behalf. at the very least she trusted him more than the rest. but would he understand that she wanted power and glory again? would he remember the bits of their conversation and the pieces he had picked up when she had appeared in the valley after so long of an absence? would he remember her true nature and know that she would desire deeply to prove herself again?
aranea did not know, but she could do nothing but wait.
(aranea would vote for ranks still existing. other than that she has little opinion and supports a council. she will want to help in any way that she can ^^)
The walk toward their home is a somber one. He and Offspring do not talk much after Beqanna grants their petition; instead, each stallion leaves the other to their thoughts. Magnus is absorbed mostly with thoughts of his past, of the mistakes that led him here. He thinks of the wars he has helped to wage. The way that his heart has thirsted for power, hungry with ambition. He thinks of the rage that has always simmered just below the surface, of the way his best intentions have always twisted away from him.
With each step he takes, the faces of all those he has disappointed in the past flash before his eyes. Those he has not loved fiercely enough. Those he has not protected well enough. Those he has let get the better of his anger, righteous or not. Those he has disappointed. All of them are seared against his eyelids, branded upon his heart. He carries them like stones in his chest, reminded with each breath of his failures.
The weight of his guilt lessens as the land begins to unfold around them. He lifts his handsome head to take in the vegetation, the lush greenery that springs forth from the volcanic soil, the heat in the air, the salt from the nearby sea. But mostly—oh, mostly—he focuses on the humid heat that begins to settle into the air. His lungs fill with it, his skin growing slick with sweat in response. There is a piece of his heart that reacts violently in his chest, the humidity striking a chord of familiarity to his jungle birth home.
Home. Home. This is home.
As they grow to face the crowd, Magnus steps toward the side, letting Offspring address them all. He just nods in agreement, gold-flecked eyes flickering with emotion before he looks toward those gathered. First, he looks toward Camelia, and his smile deepens. He does not know much of her, or know her past, but he knew in their short time together that she had loves the Gates deeply. In that regard, she reminds him of Joelle and, for that, his heart grows soft for her. Even her suggestion rings true of his once Queen and he finds himself nodding in consent. It would do the land well to remember the lessons taught.
He then looks toward the children, branded with a red eye each, a clear nod to the behemoth by his side. The sight of them makes him smile, too; it was good to know the kingdom would be rich with youth.
Finally, he looks toward the silent mare who had approached him in the field. Again, his gaze lingers on her, puzzlement flashing across his features, before he nods toward her in greeting. It was good to see her.
After he had done his best to acknowledge each soul who had come with them, who had followed them, he takes a step forward, clearing the rust from his throat. “You do not all know me,” he begins, his smile crooked but warm. “My name is Magnus, once of the Gates.” At this, he glances toward Camelia, giving her a sly wink before continuing. “The truth, however, is that I have lived and served in many kingdoms: the Jungle, the Chamber, the Dale, the Gates. I have seen the good in each of them, just as I have seen the seedy underbelly. I have no desire to seek power here or repeat the sins of my past.”
There had been too much bloodshed. Too much pain. He could not, would not, let it repeat.
“I want for this kingdom what I once wanted for the Gates: a sanctuary. A land with an open border policy where travelers can come to rest their weary head without fear of interrogation. A land where the hurt can come to nurse their wounds. A place that can be many things to many, whether it be a home or a purpose.”
A pause. “That peace, however, does not come freely. We know that. Beqanna may be reeling from this latest tragedy, but the shadows will not be forever kept at bay. The wolf may someday come knocking on our door. So I propose that we maintain that sanctuary with a firm, just hand. We are a sanctuary, but we are not a place where the greedy can dip their hand to take, where the bloodthirsty can sate their hunger.”
His throat is dry from the speech, the warrior in him despising the words that spill from his tongue, but his heart prodding him to continue, to divulge his heart to those around him. “Tephra is now our home, and I pledge to you that I will live and die for her—for you. I pledge to serve and protect you to the best of my abilities, until I have no more breath or strength to give.” And then, finally, he falls quiet, his eyes burning, his heart pounding in his chest, but silence once again falling as he steps back once more.
The whole walk to the herd's new home was rather somber, quiet, as if each and every one of them were thinking of what had been left behind. Thanata was not excluded from that group. The Tundra kingdom had been a fresh start for her, a chance to leave her past behind. She had grown from the quiet, extremely shy mare she'd once been. She still had some growing, since anxiety still plagued her, but nowadays, that was moreso due to the nightmares she often experienced, which is why she often slept away from the other horses of the kingdom.
It would be no different here. Or would it? Would this kingdom provide another new fresh start? Could she adopt a whole different persona? Perhaps prove herself a worthy member of the kingdom, rather than just a one-word diplomat that would have rather communicated through body language? Thanata didn't know if she'd ever reach the same caliber as the warriors of the Tundra that she knew, but she had to learn a little bit of fighting, if only to defend herself from predators if not to shield her new home from invaders.
Yet, even then, she knew she would protect her new home. Even with all of what Beqanna had done, she had been kind enough to grant this group of rag-tag horses a home they could call their own. A place where Thanata, and many others, could feel secure.
During the journey, Thanata kept an eye on the foals that were accompanying them, wanting to be sure they were kept safe. She also checked in on anyone that might have been injured, even if it was miniscule. She wanted to make sure everyone got to the new land, safe and sound.
When they arrived, Thanata was taken aback. A large mountain sprouted up in the middle of the land, though the scent of faint ash in the air told her it was a volcano. The smell of the ash was recent, and the air was quite humid, even if it would die down in time to a more manageable state. Was it possible that this volcano had only recently gone off and created this piece of land? Had Beqanna done this, to create a home for these horses?
If that was the case, Thanata made a promise then and there to one day return to the mountain and personally thank Beqanna for doing such a thing. Large patches of green surrounded them all, the sight of it making Thanata want to race on and enjoy its healthiness. However, the black mare stayed put, knowing that the new leaders probably had some words to say.
As opposed to two of Offspring's foals, Spear and Spark, of which their names Thanata had learned during the herd's travel. They took off to romp in the grass, something which the mare felt like she should scold them for. However, she was not their dam; it was not her place.
Offspring was the first of the leaders to speak. He spoke of the land's goals, to be more accepting than the previous kingdoms had been, that the rulership would be fair. He introduced the other leaders as well, and where they had come from before.
Once he was done, a mare - who would identify herself as Camelia - spoke up, voicing her ideals, as Offspring had suggested. Thanata was a bit off-put by that idea; were they really going to be so open? Sure, Beqanna might have been mad that her foals weren't before, but during these times, there might be some horses that could take advantage of others.
Would Thanata open her mouth and speak unwisely, risking getting thrown out of her new home? Despite a tugging feeling, Thanata kept her words within, feeling they would not be wise to say.
Another new leader, Magnus - a horse Thanata had heard of - stepped up to share his piece. He said he would do his best to help protect this new land, and that he would willingly give his life to keep that promise. Thanata immediately (mentally) agreed with that. She would do the same, even if she wasn't the most skilled fighter yet.
After Magnus had said his piece, Thanata still kept her words quiet, not thinking of anything truly worthy to say at the moment. So she would wait, see what any of the other horses had to say. For a moment, her gaze drifts to Offspring, wondering how he is handling things with his love, Isle. Once again, that feeling appeared, but Thanata shoved it to the back of her mind. She would not allow her head to succumb to such thoughts. She was not that kind of mare.
Maybe one day she'd find a horse she would love, but she knew Offspring still had Isle, and if Thanata even tried anything, she would give full permission to Beqanna to cause another small 'tragedy' and see to it that the Friesian disappeared.
OOC: Camelia's ideas sound interesting, breaking the castes apart and redefining them a bit more.
With the gift of his ice Newton was finally at peace. He was no longer hollow. His family was built into his spirit and body. Sahm could see the joy in Newton as they made their way to the land that was granted to them. It had been a long few weeks. They had been separated. They both had a piece of them ripped from their core, and they had been homeless. Now they were together, whole, and traveling in the direction of their new home. Newton pressed his muzzle against Sahm’s as they walked. He exhaled a peaceful sigh. A tiny bay filly pranced beside the two stallions. Her steps were more like hops as she attempted to follow in the exact hoof prints of her fathers.
The land that was given to them was quite different from the Tundra. It was not filled with ice, but rather the enemy of it. Newton wasn’t exactly happy with the temperature and lava-spewing volcano, but in time he believed he would grow used to it. Sahm didn’t like that with the volcano there were barren rocks around it. Tephra was not the home that they would have picked. They missed the Tundra. But a home was a home. Tephra was where Offspring was. Even Magnus had joined the group.
In time a meeting was called. It was headed by Offspring, much to Sahm and Newton’s delight. They attended the meeting with Elora in tow. She was quite unhappy to stand beside her fathers in silence. Adult stuff was boring to her, and the speech the black stallion gave went on for what seemed like forever. Elora did wiggle in her spot, but Sahm was quick to scold her. Newton simply smiled at the entire situation. Their daughter was far more spicier then either of them.
Eventually the floor was opened to suggestions on how the politics of Tephra should go. Several other horses like the idea of a council. Sahm didn’t mind having multiple ruling parties, but he did have one suggestion. When his turn came he spoke. ”I am happy with the idea of a council that will convene and discuss important decisions for the land, but I do believe that there should be one horse who is above all others. That one horse would ultimately make the decision in the event of a tie. This is especially important in opposing opinions. Every house needs a head. “
Sahm, Newton, and Elora the magician, the ice shifter, and their perfect daughter
OOC: Basically in a democracy there is still a president. So Sahm simply suggests that there be someone who is the ultimate tie breaker- the ultimate decision maker- but the council would basically discuss all decisions with the head person as well. I hope that makes sense
The grullo mare panted as she found the group within the land named Tephra, her brother no longer at her side or in sight around the area. His face, smiling, saying he'd protect her til death, flashed in her memory and became him laying still, bloodied and his shine, his warmth, his life lost. Gone.
"I believe their should be more castes, with the same ranking system. That we would be open to others, and have one supreme tie-breaker, I agree with some previously spoken ideas. If you disagree, please tell me and we can come to a conclusion." She says, walking slowly to the front of the group, smiling at Sahm, Newton, and the filly with them, and she seemed out of character. But she wasn't. Not when the high chance of her brother being dead loomed over her mind, louder than any thought she speaks silently.
He was late to the meeting, typical thing for him really. He was used to being alone in his efforts, used to having a large weight on his shoulders and never once asking for help. His search for Killdare had not been fruitful. The once king had not been found, and Nymphetamine had searched all the known common lands. With the upheaval of the lands and rearranging of alliances, Nymphetamine had not checked the other herd lands yet. Not without knowing his group’s standing. It was a little tense still in Beqanna and he knew better than to go poking around-- even if it was in good will. So the diplomat returned to Tephra, and found them huddled, in conversation, he hadn’t caught the question but knew there were some differences in opinion on whatever the topic was. He listened to those still speaking, and gathered what he could about the topic of conversation. Something about structure and leadership of their new land.
It was different to be apart of something beginning. To take if from dust and watch it grow, and be apart of its success. The blood bay hoped their Chamber-like new home would be what they hoped. Bringing together 4 Kingdoms was a feat in and of itself governing them in this new era was something he didn’t begrudge Offspring, but he could think of very few better suited for the task. Nymphetamine had heard only a few speak so he knew not what was mentioned before, but he figured he would speak his piece, for the land he hoped this place would become. Sorry I am late to party, my search for Killdare took longer than expected, and I am sorry to say I have found no sign, but I didn’t check the private group lands. Not before checking in on our status with our lands, and status among the others. I hope I don’t repeat too much of what others have previously stated, but The council is a fantastic idea, and I fully support having a representative from each kingdom from before the quakes. As for the other ranks, I think the castes should be more fluid… there are too many who dabble in peace and war. I am unsure how to structure it specifically but war and peace shouldn’t be so separated. Maybe task based. And choose a few 2-3 who are in charge of tasks for each caste. I hope this helps.”
He didn’t have much else to say but wanted to start his search again, so he needed some information before he left. But he knew better than to change topics when the one at hand was so vitally important. He would wait, patience was a virtue and all that.
Like a thorn to the Holy Ones
ooc: love council. need to adjust castes away from war and peace some other attributes that aren't so limited to one thing-- i think castes need to be more connected or fluid... so maybe tasks are better suited for what I/ Nymph envisions... I just know know how to word it. message me if ya'll want my input.
also I am at work and didn't have the ability to check eveyone elses posts, so sorry I kinda ignore everyone. best i could do given my setting. <3
That was something. That was something to hold onto and clutch to her chest. She could look to him and find hope, because it had become errant and unwieldy the moment her mother left for the wild.
Woodrow.
And, of course, their girls. Those two leggy and wide-eyed fillies who now tottered at her hips, ever observant and mischievous. They had come to her in a frenzy. Her first time, though when her body rattled and called for the hardest labour of all she knew it like she once knew her mother’s nose. She is a rugged, natural thing, Longear. Of earth, of grass and bark, but so is she a separated and incomplete thing.
It had been messy and as intended, but they were meant to be together when Gardenia and Mauve came – that other soul and she – it had been a painfully lonely task, instead. (She had tried to make it to that Mountain, though the climb would have been an impossibility. At least she could say she had tried.)
“Stay close,” she says, but she knows they won’t. Not enough. They will tumble outwards like two raucous, rolling puppies. And then, in a single moment of clarity, they will rebound against her safe side. The ‘away’ is the hard part. She watches them out of the corner of her eye as she joins the group, alway vigilant.
She had followed Magnus here, because before she found Woodrow and her girls, she had found him. And for a time, he had been everything. That stranger, so familiar to her because he was her father and brother. Her eyes gravitate to him, now, because their shadows are on his yellow skin and dark hair, and there is comfort in that, at least. He speaks of home, and it does not ring gloriously to her (yet), but it is the closest she has.
The Gates. But for mere days, and by the grace of the history that tied her to the once-was.
The Jungle… a deeper wound. Her birthplace and her mother’s birthplace and her grandmother’s haunt.
Gone. So there is Tephra, and its sulfur air and volcanic folds (more like the Jungle, she thinks, with its sticking heat), and mother had always taught her to love everything the goddess-Mother made. The forests and oceans; this land, built around the roots of something living and dangerous. Besides, home is a many-headed thing, never something rigid (at least, not to her – perhaps because she had never had the opportunity to form attachments, so she sought them out in horsehair and hearts more than landmarks). “My name is Longear. From... well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,” she says finally, and she feels out of her depth, so she says little more.
---
OOC, because IC, I’m not sure Longear would have too, too much to say on this ATM: I am 100% in agreement that it would be soo cool if we all smashed heads together and tried to think up castes that are not 100% standard, boring, ARMY - PEACE. I'll have a think and PM anyone if I have an brainchild.
We’ve done that, over and over, and I’m sure there are soo many other creative set-ups if we think outside the box. Ones that inspire and have subtly, like other have said. Like, kingdoms in the past have had espionage castes and scholarly castes as well as the two standards, so it’s not like there hasn’t been that before. I need ranks, though. And for those castes to hold activities and stuff. I’m sure we can get creative with that too.
I am also in for a council of sorts! Maybe odd numbered so there is always a tie breaker/swing vote if need be? IDK, I love something non-standard and I personally am totally okay with there being no ‘head guy’. 100%.
“My heart has joined the Thousand,
for my friend stopped running today.”
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)
![[Image: nymphetamine_zpsmlx48otf.gif]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v202/dsl_devin/nymphetamine_zpsmlx48otf.gif)
