Zaravich has been apart of the Dale for a couple of seasons, between visiting the field and meadow she has yet to meet anyone other than Weir. She gets slightly depressed that the dale is so quiet as the mare is so active. Although she will shortly have something to give the kingdom. A foal of her own, through careless meeting in the fields the mare has found herself pregnant. She was unsure if she would ever see the stag who courted her again and now she was terrified to raise a child on her own. She was afraid of what weir, her only friend, would think of her when he hears the news. Keeping this to herself for the time being would be her best option, soon she couldn't keep it a secret, but for now she could.
The mare picked up a canter and moved around the dale flawlessly, her tail was flicked in the air effortlessly. She wanted to run and never stop, once the life inside her was ready to come out she would be to uncomfortable to run. She gave a whinny wondering if Weir, or anybody was around to give her company. Zara would be staying in the Dale for most of her pregnancy in fear of an attack. Slowing to a halt she gave another whinny hoping someone would come to her call.
- Year: 232
- Season: Autumn, Breeding
- SWP: None
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
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The Dale will get stronger [Any]
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03-24-2016, 01:41 PM
 The battle plays out in his mind every night. While he sleeps in the comfort of home, his body stirs and his mind trembles. He relives the fighting, sees the blood and the flames falling around him as if he was there in the Chamber. He sees Weir opened and splayed, his heart still beating in his open ribcage, his merry laughter still echoing alongside the crackle of the fires. He watches Joscelin burn from within, her light brightening until she combusts into a million little pieces. He feels the hooves raining down on him, enemies crowding him from all sides, their blows endless and devastating. Death watches Ramiel as he finally submits to the fighting. As he falls, the scythe falls too, closer to his neck. At the last moment (he can feel the sting of metal at his throat; he cannot avoid it), Death smiles at him. Mine, He says. Mine as before. Mine eternal. He wakes and still feels Death’s eyes on him. Ramiel doesn’t sleep well, and his healing follows suit. His shoulder is still a ragged mess from where Demian’s fire burned him down to the muscle. When he walks, he pulls apart the skin that has begun to knit itself together again, re-starting the healing process over and over. The other burns, the small peppering of stray sparks across his body, have nearly disappeared under his lengthening monochrome coat. Fall makes the land bleed in an entirely different way as the leaves turn from bright emerald to coppery crimson. Winter will soon be upon them, and Ramiel starts to wonder if he’ll have to limp through the piles of Dalean snow. Today is not so bleak, however. The sun streams down across the browning hills of home, casting long shadows that point towards the west. It is still early – early enough to put some real work behind him if he’s so inclined – but he lingers in his exhaustion. From his shelter under a towering hill-top pine, Ramiel watches the rest of the kingdom come to life. A sudden movement catches his eye; a black blur races across the field just below him. It brings an easy smile to his face. After the war, life goes on. Horses come to the Dale seeking a home as they always have. This newcomer testing her mettle and speed against the wind is affirmation that all is not lost, even after terrible violence. Life goes on, even if he will be forever changed. It takes a terribly long time to reach the mare (once she’s stopped and let loose a whinny) but eventually he does. He wrangles the painful grimace into a genuine smile. “Hello, I’m Ramiel.” The grey and gold king notices the slight bulge at her sides. It has been far too long since the Dale witnessed a birth on its soil; he hopes she stays and provides it come spring. “Are you new here?” A cool breeze sweeps down from the North and he is reminded again that winter is not far off. If this mare is new and plans on staying, he will have to warn her of the impending weather – Dalean winters are their own brand of harsh beauty. “Forgive me if not. I’ve been away from home for a while.” R A M I E L this is a man pulling at his iron chains
03-30-2016, 01:34 PM
The stillness is home to him. This mare will come to know the quiet of the Dale, should she choose to remain. It is pervasive and equated with the mountainous land; it is all he’s known since his childhood. But rather than scorn the silence that curls like fog through the pines, Ramiel relishes it. Other than his comfort in it, he finds it makes the noise all the more enjoyable when it fills the land. They have always been a small kingdom, after all. Nobody expects the Dale to be as bustling as the Amazons or to grow a reputation as infamous as the Chamber. This doesn’t mean they have escaped the drama, though - they’ve had their fair share of it over the decades. But their response has always been to lapse back into the quiet comfort of Dalean sanctuary at the conclusion of chaos. It’s written in their stories; it’s based in their blood. And it suits him, more than perhaps it should. The woman before him jumps at the rumble of his voice. Too quiet, he thinks, she’s nearly left her skin behind in her fright. “Sorry,” he says easily, dipping his head to give her time to compose herself. If a simple ‘hello’ can scare the living daylights out of the residents, what does it say about their reluctance to engage with each other? Fortunately, changes will come with the spring. It is time to build from within now that the war is behind them. Zaravich, as he soon learns her name, is only the beginning of this rebuilding. She’s petite and pretty (not requirements to fill his new quota, but aspects the young man notices nonetheless) and quickly recovers from her scare. Her face illuminates, even under the weakened autumn sun, and he finds himself smiling in return. But when she begins to bow, he protests, shaking his head lightly. “Please, there is no need – I am happy to make your acquaintance.” And he is, more than happy. Because while he doesn’t mind the silence, it has perhaps lingered too long without pause. Faces have begun to disappear without promise of returns, taking the familiar reassurance of their voices with them into the gloom. He thinks of his parents, Exemplary, Kellyn, Elysteria. Not Weir, thankfully. Zaravich mentions his name and Ramiel’s smile grows again. “I have no doubt his tour was both gracious and informative – perhaps even exhaustingly so?” The grey and gold stallion laughs under his breath but eyes the girl all the same. He is always curious to see how receptive others are to Weir’s odd ways. Of course, their opinions hardly matter to him - Ramiel would be the first in line to defend his strange but loyal mentor. “They are,” he says in response to the mare’s question. “My lands and your’s, if you want them to be. We are like a family here.” He looks once over the hills rolling away from them, dipping into the low-point of the river below. Its’ surface sparkles; standing along its shore is his favorite place to be in the entire kingdom, he thinks he’ll go to it once this conversation ends. War had taken him away from too much: his hideouts, his home, his family. More than anything, though, he’s glad to have his mind returned to him. Too many nights were spent wondering, worrying. Now that it’s over, he feels free of many (but not all) of his burdens. “Are you looking to live or work here? Or both? You are welcome either way.” R A M I E L this is a man pulling at his iron chains ooc: just let me know if/where you want her on the board! =)
04-07-2016, 01:17 PM
He doesn’t know the extent of the mare’s hyper nature, of course. There are few with personalities like hers’ that choose to reside within the mountain lands. Perhaps she won’t enjoy the silence as much as the rest of the kingdom does. Maybe she will grow bored of their stretches of quiet and find another swath of soft grass to rest her feet on at night. Or perhaps it is exactly her exuberance that the Dale needs these days. Recovering from a multi-kingdom war will not be easy or happen overnight; they all need to heal, and forging ahead with as much joy and positivity as one can muster will surely expedite the process. Yes, he thinks Zaravich will fit right into their small family. “Weir is quite the character all right.” Ramiel’s mouth curves as he imagines the red roan leading the newest mare around, showing her the sights and teaching her about every bit of flora and fauna they come across. He is surprised Zaravich has not excused herself from the conversation in order to recover. Instead, she seems to want more information on the snow-man. Ramiel is more than happy to oblige her curiosity. “He is a man of endless knowledge and talents both. Darwin is actually his soul in visible form.” The ghost-king pauses, gauging her reaction to see if she is receptive enough to the idea for him to continue. When she doesn’t snort or take off for the border, he assumes it is safe for him to explain further. “When one commits to the Dale, they become full-fledged members and are able to see their own souls in our sacred springs up in the mountains. Once you drink from the pools, your spirit appears and can emerge from the water.” Ramiel glances at the black woman’s face briefly, wondering what she thinks of the magic, wondering if she believes him. He is certain it must sound strange to those who hail from the outside lands. Would he believe her, if their positions were reversed? “If you choose to stay, it would be my honor to take you to the springs myself, if it is something you are interested in.” At that moment, Ramiel’s own spirit flies overhead. Its’ V shape cuts through the air but doesn’t send a shadow racing along the ground. The spirit-vulture descends and lands on the stallion’s back with practiced ease. He doesn’t feel the dig of non-corporeal talons on his back, but its presence is felt regardless. Zaravich confirms that she will stay, and Ramiel’s smile grows again. “I’m so glad to hear that. The Dale will be fortunate to have both of you, come spring.” His golden eyes find her swollen belly pointedly before he looks back at the mother-to-be. “We have two castes here. You may join the peace caste and become a diplomat, where the focus is on negotiations within and outside of the kingdom. Or you may join the army, where your responsibilities include defending our home and its people in times of crisis. Or you can join both. Are you drawn to either of these duties?” R A M I E L this is a man pulling at his iron chains |
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