[complete] Event 2 Task 3

[The Goddess Nike]

The sun dips low, marking the end of the second event. As the points are tallied, the scores for the event change to reflect the second task. 

Team Alpha, Modicum Mortem has earned you 12 points
Team Beta, Jesper has earned you 15 points
Team Gamma, Hestia has earned you 14 points
Team Delta, Saedís has earned you 12 points
Team Epsilon, Ilma has earned you 12 points
Team Zeta, Amorette has earned you 19 points
Team Eta, Imperial has earned you 12 points
Team Theta, Nymf has earned you 12 points
Team Iota, Belgaer has earned you 19 points
Team Kappa, Wound has earned you 13 points

____________________________________________________

They are gathered once more, and the goddess is pleased with what she has seen. They seem to have enjoyed her little magic trick with the floor, although it has since been restored to its natural dust. She appears, glimmering redly in the sunset light. 

"It would seem that Beqanna does not lack for intelligence. But tell me, do you have wisdom?" 
An apparition appears in the center of the arena. She is small, frail, and weeping softly. The grey hairs about her face betray a great age, and her entire countenance is one of deepest loss and regret. 
"Behold, the grieving soul. She was once like you, full of life and possibility. War came and took everything from her: home, family, freedom. After a long period of suffering at her captors brutality, she finally died. This may seem odd for a test of intelligence. But there is more than one form of smart, and emotional intelligence can get you just as far as academia, if perhaps in different directions. Go to her. Ease her suffering, if you can." 

The Goddess looked on as one by one, the contestants attempted her task. 

 The question who's answer will validate your response is: The chordae-tendonae are more commonly known as what? May be answered OOC

Word count must be 500 words or less. As this is the third task, additional points will be awarded based on how well you complete the task, beyond the time and question accuracy.

Edit: Fixed the name of Theta's contestant

[Hestia]

OOC: Otherwise known as: heart strings or cord-like tendons.

Word count: 233

She discloses information about the girl. Hestia thins her lips. All things she’s experienced. Her words echo true in her own soul. Maybe not to the extent of this girl, she cannot know the details of her life. But she understands the details of her own. For the first time (not even on hearing of Fennick’s disappearance did this happen) tears slip from her eyes. This girl, The ancient mare looks on her something cracking open inside herself. How can she comfort this, when she can’t comfort herself? Truth is nothing can heal those wounds. The best you can do is find a reason to live, and move past the horrors. The black mare approaches the girl lips trembling. She doesn’t say anything instead just closing her eyes, lowering her head, tears running down her face. Her nostrils breath hot steady air against the girls shoulder. She doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. This is something there are no words for. She stands there allowing them to connect without words. Feeling hands on her face she doesn’t startle, just allows the girl to do what she needs. She does this until the girl is able to stand on her own before walking away silent to the golden mare. She isn’t sure if she is more angry that the woman made her live through this, or selfishly grateful that someone else can understand her pain.

[Amorette]

The memory of her father puts a smile on Amorette’s lips. Quite some time has passed since she last saw him, but all her memories are fond ones. And thus they don’t form an obstacle here and now. Anticipation is high as she watches Nike, waiting their next task.

When she tells them, it comes as a surprise to Amorette. She had though the games a fun challenge and a way to meet new faces. Perhaps even some bonding between kingdoms would come from it. But this, this creature of despair is not fun at all. Blame it on either her soft nature or her hormones, but the sight breaks her heart.

She does not hesitate to approach. Her muzzle drops and with slow and careful hesitation she moves forward. ”Don't cry..” she murmurs, hoping that the soft sound wouldnt scare the grieving creature. ”You're not alone.” As to put power to her words, the short ebony mare reaches out to brush the velvet of her muzzle agains gray hair. Gently her breath blows the hair from her face, revealing not only old age, but also signs of abuse. This pains her even more. Nobody should go through such thing.

Her instincts tell her to hold the creature close, and thus she drops down, yet making sure she does not object to it. ”I'm here for you.” She means it. ”Let it all go, you're safe now. I got you.” Talking might open another flood of tears and she might have to re-live her pains, but once it was spilled out, it would lighten one’s heart and hopefully drop a little weight from her shoulders too. Amore keeps humming softly, listening, as she leans in closer. Her neck wraps around the frial figure, hugging her close to offer support.

Gradually the crying becomes less, but Amore does not pull away. Softly she keeps telling the woman she dus well, had lived a though life, but was now free. No more abuse, no more inflicted pain. ”Spread your wings" she says softly. Figuratively of course. ”Become the dove you were meant to be.”

Ooc: answer is heart strings!

[Belgaer]

It seems, as with the first event, the third task will be the most challenging. The first had been mere logic, the second knowledge the contestants had either known or simply needed to apply quick wits to find; the third task is of a completely different nature, with the grieving soul placed before them, and the order for them to ease her suffering. It is as if no others exist in the arena now, at least for Belgaer, as he cautiously approaches the stranger. He takes care to keep his demeanor soothing and quiet; wings tucked against his sides, head lowered, muscles relaxed, eyes averted at first as he approaches and extends his muzzle for a moment of greeting.

Bel observes that she smells sweet beneath the saltwater tears, and he hesitantly presses a comforting touch to her neck (just above her shoulder) before he speaks. "Hello," he offers, but that seems so mundane and useless. "I'm Belgaer." And he smiles, and for a moment they are just quiet together; he wonders when the last time she had any real companionship was.

It's peaceful, unhurried, when he finally nudges her again, urging her to turn her face towards the sky full of bright stars. "I've always found it reassuring that the night sky never changes," his voice is deep and calm, as he releases himself fully into the moment in order to best try and help her. "Even if it's obscured sometimes by clouds or storms or the dark of the moon, when the stars and the moon are visible again, they are reliable. They reflect the change in seasons, in time, and go on despite the fickle nature of life beneath. I've always found comfort in the idea that when we lose out loved ones, they are somewhere up there looking down on us, guiding us, eternally. And after we die, when we move on, we are able to see them again."

But that's only half the problem, isn't it? Her death, the loss of everyone she held dear, it's a symptom of greater evils. There have been no great evils in this world while Bel has inhabited it, but he certainly has heard the stories from his father of darker, dangerous times. But despite everything that has happened before, Brennen still has one thing that this mare seems to need; hope. "I'm still quite young, but my father said something that stuck with me. He said that hope is like the sunrise - even when all seems lost, it will still come. Perhaps not as soon as we'd like it to come, but come it will. Someone will rise up against the evils you were forced to endure, and make the world a better place for those that come after you. Perhaps they will even do it in your name, or your memory. But regardless, the dark cannot last forever."

Answer: The Chordae-Tendonae are more commonly known as "the heartstrings".

[Modicum Mortem]

Modicum Mortem was intelligent in many things (war, murder, stalking, sex), but he would’ve been an idiot to not realize he had always lacked in one area.

He was incapable of empathy.

So when the goddess brings forth the frail old woman, he does not gasp, his heart does not ache for her. He simply stares blankly as Nike asks the group to go to her, to try to comfort the grieving mare. Why a challenge such as this? Couldn’t she have given him something easier, something he was more capable of? The last two tasks he handled quite well. How would he be able to calm the woman when he lacked the capacity to?

He steps forward, a great sigh escaping his lips. He travels to the woman, and to his surprise, he meets her eye line. He stares into the dark, miserable pools and grows uncomfortable (something foreign to the stallion). ”Why’re you crying?” He asks.

”They took everything from me. Didn’t you hear her? I am nothing without my family.” She weeps. Mortem stifles a cruel laugh (he loved to watch others suffer). He tries his best to piece together helpful words.

”I know your family was important to you. I know how you feel,” He lies, he never cared about his family. ”But where there is life, there is hope. No matter how bad life gets, there’s always something you can succeed at.” What he lacked in compassion, he made up for in wisdom. He only hoped his words would be enough to succeed at the task.


Answer: They are more commonly called “heart-strings”

[Nymf]

Nymf's relief was short lived as the Goddess lay before them yet another task. The ghostly figure of the woman before them appeared all to familiar to her. Though age was written upon her features there was an undeniable kinship between  the two mares. Even before being hidden to do so, Nymf felt herself begin to gravitate towards the weeping creature.

She knew the loss that wrote itself so clearly upon the elder. Words were inadequate against such pain and suffering. Left to the quiet, it was just the two of them within that space. The mumbling of the crowd had evaporated into silence and, even the Goddess' bold presense their fell to the wayside against the challenge set before her. 

Tentatively she stepped forward, tucking her wings tightly against her so that she appeared smaller than she was. Gently she brought herself alongside the weeping creature and gently nuzzled her cheek. 

Nymf knew grief all to well. The loss of her own family had left it's scars upon her soul permanently and she knew that she would never be the same as she was before. The loneliness that had overtaken her. The helplessness. If it hadn't been for another she would not have been standing before a Goddess.

Life was funny, in a way. It kept moving, despite the pain it dolled out. One could either get lost to their sorrows, allow it to wash over them and take them away with its current, or you could attempt to pull yourself together. To grow. 

Nymf was trying and, often times failing, to pick herself up. Everyday she chose to press on she was faced with the same challenge.

In a way it almost felt as of she'd been tasked to comfort herself.

Leaning in close she wrapped her wing around ths bruised and beaten mare. Whispering gently she said, "You are not alone."

---

Answer :: heart-strings

Word count :: 315

[Ilma]

OOC: chordae-tendinae are known as heart strings

Ilma is an emotional creature; she feels for the weeping female. She’s lost everything. Her heart aches; she steps forward and wordlessly offers her a hug; a touch to help her feel more grounded. She knows there is nothing more to do at this point until the other mare finally stops weeping. Softly, Ilma whispers. ”I’m sorry. I hope you will feel better with time; perhaps you can offer your wisdom to those around you with a similar fate.” She smiles hopefully. ”But don’t forget to always take the time that you need. I can wait, the world can wait.” She nuzzles the mare’s neck and steps back. Nothing more can she give; can anyone give

[Jesper]

Ceil blue gaze watches the map of Beqanna disappear and, in the very middle, appears a grieving figure. Immediately, the ebony steed feels his cardiac muscle flutter with despair. He yearns to help her and, when the Goddess reveals their next task, he steps forward. Limbs shuffle in a slow pace so as not to overwhelm her. Poll drops and lobes fall to half-mast as Jesper attempts to portray as unimposing of an image as possible. He knew that body language is just as loud as words and, he hopes to emit a comforting presence. As he steps before her, muzzle lowers to the earth. Hushed words slip through parted maw as he introduces himself. “For what you have endured, I offer my condolences. Your story pulls at my heart and, mists my eyes. I, Jesper, offer you my support.” Stepping forwards he positions himself so he is parallel to her, but facing the opposite direction. He then, pivots and, moves until he is side-by-side with the woman.
 
He presses his warm physique against her rocking form and, his rubbery labrums to her nape. He permits her weight to rest against him as much as she desired. Warm whuffs of air exhale into her pelt before he speaks again. “I am right here. I know that no words can truly ease your pain. Just know, that I wish to share your burden and, alleviate your sorrow.” He pauses for a moment and then, softly utters, “I may not have wings but, please, grant me permission to carry you.” With these words, limbs slowly fold under chassis until he is lying down alongside the lady. He lowers his body in order to shim beneath her weight. He slowly pulls his mass to the side so that he maneuvers under her frail form. Once she rests upon his back, he heaves himself back to his solid hooves. He stands now, having lifted her off of the ground entirely. He swings his muzzle back to tenderly bump her cheek and, allows the remaining tears to absorb into his soft flesh.
 
“There, there, my dear. Now, we have each other. I promise to hold you up and, always, keep you close.”
 
OOC: The chordae-tendonae are also known as the heart strings. <3

[Imperial]

Again he watches everything before him change.  The map fades to the dusts and his eyes are peeled upwards again.  The angelic voice of the Goddess draws his attention once more.  

What appears before them is not a quiz or a lesson of history, it is a women.  A mare, lifeless and dull.  His charcoal ears perk as the Golden Goddess explains her condition, but his gaze does not waver from the aged mare.  He hears of war and her misfortunes.  He looks upon the worn lines of her salt and pepper face, the sunken hollows of her eyes.  Her body thin and weathered, hide drapes loosely over her skeletal frame.  He wonders briefly how she has suffered for so long.  Had she not had family to come find save her?  He thinks to his own family, their own trials.  How Kuma, his partner, had suffered under the wrath of a tyrant.  Burns blistered her body as he had tried to save her.  It was a failed attempt at first but eventually his persistence prevailed.

He finds his eyes softened to this mare as he nears her.  Silver aproned face lowered and ears flicked to the sides.  She remains unmoved, emotionless but sorrow seeps from her every pore.  He hears her soft weeping and he can't help but want to reach out to her.  To bring his muzzle to brush along her cheek and dip under her chin.  The bridge of his nose rising her face just the slightest.  There are no words.  Never was.  This amount of pain could not be relieved with such basic things.  It needed time, security, love.  True love, that does not waver with time nor circumstances.  The love like he had for his partner, his adopted children.  He could not give that to this mare.

Word CT: less than 500

Answer: heartstrings

[wound]

It’s the final challenge and, though Wound has enjoyed the contest, she is glad it will be over soon. Her heart already aches for the shivering girl. Wound has soothed the weeping only a handful of times, but she considers it one of her positive attributes.

She steps forward, coffee-brown eyes searching the girl’s face. After hearing their host tell the story of the girl’s life, Wound wonders if she will even have the right words to say. It always seems to go that way — she becomes at a loss for words within herself only to find them again at the exact moment she needs them. So she initially merely steps close to the girl, pressing a gentle kiss to the other’s shoulder.

Wound is silent for a moment, standing beside the girl with an ache in her heart and a sorrow on her lips. She begins to softly groom the girl’s mane, just as she had done with Warrick in his time of grief. Her teeth tug soothingly at the tangled knots until they are free and then she waits a moment longer still, watching the sun go down slowly.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.” Her voice is not pitying (there is no way any of them will be able to escape the threats of danger and evil) but it is tender, almost with a warm motherly tone to it. Her mind thinks of Warrick and Wishbone, of Longclaw and Femur, even of Tephra. If she were to lose everything she’s ever held close to her heart, she would be just as distraught as this girl.

The silvery mare takes in a shaky breath. “I have a daughter. Her name is Wishbone and she’s the fiercest little shooting star I’ve ever met. If something were to happen to her…” She almost chokes on the thickness in her throat, but manages to compose herself. “I don’t know what I would do.” Wound turns her face, using her muzzle to wipe the tears from the girl’s wet face. “We have sadness because we have love.” Her lips are salty with the taste of the physical sorrow. “But even when everything is ripped from us, we will still have love. Because that is who we are. That is how we have been made.”

The sun is nearly gone now and the stars are flickering into sight above their heads. Wound glances upwards, remembering Warrick’s philosophy on the passage of his family. “Whenever you feel alone or scared or lonely, look to the stars. Your family and friends and all your loved ones who have passed on — they are up there, watching and loving you.” She realizes with a cold tendril in her stomach that this girl is gone as well, lost amid constellations and stardust. But Wound falls silent regardless, merely sitting beside the girl until the Goddess might call her back. Otherwise, she would stay the night at the weeping girl’s side.

Words: 495
Answer: Heartstrings