"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
05-21-2019, 04:27 PM (This post was last modified: 05-23-2019, 11:48 PM by Kensa.)
i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
The portal Leliana opened had tossed Kensa onto Ischia’s shore, and getting home had taken the last of her strength. When she rises out of the lake gold glimmers through the blood, soot, and dirt that run down her skin in rivulets. Whole but exhausted the Primarch leaves the rocky shallows to stand with her back to the mirror-like surface of the water. Over Hyaline’s peaks a distant cloud of ash continues roll into the sky. Should the wind turn a dry grey snow may even fall here, leaving nothing untouched by the destruction of Tephra. The danger on that coast, and in Loess, the shaking of the world, has driven unfamiliar faces and old acquaintances up into Hyaline. These and her own few people she meets upon the lakeshore. It has taken days for her to return, only having teleported the last little way after meeting a rude pink child who had healed her wounds to a degree. Her body asks for rest, but there will be time. There are things to say first, a yoke to the past that must be broken. “All of you know by now that there has been a war.” She has failed to plan what she would say, and her gaze passes over the faces turned toward her, all she can do is meet them on even ground and do her best to tell them what she has decided.
“I do not want to discount the struggles of our friends, family, and the kingdoms in this conflict. There were deep wounds on both sides. However, what has occured is proof of a need for change in all of our lives.” Very young she had come into Hyaline, a sanctuary, and believed that its peace was a kind balance. Maybe it had been, in a different world. The years have intervened and now she sees only immobility, a kingdom with walls made of the vulnerable. “A god-monster called us to kill a man, and we did, because we craved blood and violence and were tricked into thinking we were protecting what was ours. A sickness fell over us and we hid, clustered in places where we thought we were safe or stubbornly, like myself, endured the sickness. Proud fools thinking we could hold onto something that was gone long before. Unable to change as our world changed. There has been pain too great and losses too many and it is all because we have forgotten what we are. We are not made for perfect peace or brutal war. Restraint chokes us. Many of us are like strangled newborns; we have never learned how to live because we are tangled in the umbilical that ties us to our forebearers. Our mothers and their traditions are dead, and if we hold vigil over their stagnant corpses we will die too.”
Kensa draws a deep breath in spite of the lingering pain in her knitting ribs. The breeze, full of spring perfume wisteria and apple blossom drags the drying ends of her blond locks across her face. A new Hyaline, she has known only the feeling of what it will be and yet that is enough, the words make their own way past her lips. “We must learn to see with clarity again, so that the tyrants cannot hide among us. We must open our hearts so that when dark magics try to twist us we will feel it, knowing once more the difference between the natural and the unnatural. There will be days of pain and trouble but we will have the heart to face them and shift their course. We will feed the land with our blood, our love, our worship of the pleasure of existence. Some will call it chaos, will say we are unpredictable, but we are the truth. Not zealots, or monsters, but a free people. Each of you, I charge with acting as brings you pleasure. We will have leaders, diplomats, and warriors but it is because we must preserve a place for ourselves in this new world. As many of you know I am a woman who makes friends far more easily than enemies and I ask you to do the same, but even so there are those who will not tolerate our liberty and we must be prepared for that.” If they can stir up the peoples around them through their own freedom all the better, a few ripples in the pond might go a long way toward preventing all of their destruction. “Welcome to a new Hyaline, if you wish to stay please do so. If you cannot bear the thought of change you may go. I have never considered myself your master, only a woman who hopes to forge a new way alongside you.” Those words spoken she remains still and waits, her open honest face calm and confident. "...For those who do not know, I am Kensa, Primarch of Hyaline."
kensa
love is madness
Okay Everyone, Hyaline is now a different place. We are no longer a Sanctuary, though still primarily peaceful. The motivation is to enjoy life, be light-hearted troublemakers, and create a bit more activity! A few guidelines will be added to the ranks post soon. Any questions of suggestions please feel free to PM Lyr via discord!
Rouhi had only just returned to the living, his body still trying to comprehend what was going on, in his slumber he had even managed to miss an entire war, only spotting the aftermath as it drifts over the blue sky.
The winged male shakes his body as small roses that were neatly stuck to his body take flight, their aroma still lingering as he moves through the forest. Since the plague had passed Rouhi would finally be able to rebirth, especially since he had some form of control over it at this point.
The stallion hides himself deeply within the forest, his legs already alight as he halts. Rouhi remembers the first time he had rebirthed, spontaneously combusting was a rather chaotic experience.
It does not take long for Rouhi to burn entirely, turning into a pile of ashes before reforming again, when he stands anew he notices that the flames he had created had burned the surrounding flora, a displeased expression slides across his face as he kneels to the ground "Well I'm sorry" he frowns, his nose gently touching the burnt flowers.
A small plate of light forms around his nose and the flowers re-grow, this time larger and more impressive than the last "Don't look at me like that, I did you a favour" he nods, standing and quickly leaving the forest before he insults anymore of the floran habitants.
The stallion comes to a halt as he nears Kensa, he can hear her talking about Hyaline, her speech is rather inspirational and interesting, to say the least, though Rouhi remains silent, he rather remain in the background while he is still slightly insane and allows his brain to heal up from his great slumber.
The painted male just stands, bobbing his head in agreement toward the mare.
Rouhi
It has been a while since I have written him so I had to make him at least slightly insane, plus it is late and I can't think of anything else to write
The rest of the world passes Aegean by—bloodshed and love and hate—and he barely feels the ripples of it. Sure, he can see the smoke that billows out of Tephra (at this point, everyone can, he thinks), and he hears the whispers of a war. He hears of the prisoner turned magician turned Queen who refused to bend any longer; of the justice and injustice spilled from her hands, the grey world she immersed herself in. He hears of Loess and their rambunctious, mischievous way of stirring the pot, keeping the world on edge.
He hears of the stories and finds them fascinating, but they leave no imprint.
So much of his life has left no imprint.
It is why he feels little sadness when he leaves Silver Cove. His mothers have long since moved on, and he does not feel them in his dreams any longer. Silver Cove was never his home (has he had a home?) and it does not pain him to pick up the roots when they have not yet clung to the earth.
Instead, he makes his way toward Hyaline.
He finds his way there as the young woman gets up and begins speaking. Perhaps she sees some of his mothers in him or some of his older brother, but he just watches quietly, his handsome face drawn up in soft feminine lines and harsh masculine planes. His purple eyes remain steady and quiet and the light around him pulses lightly, casting a milky glow on the floor around him. When she finishes talking, he just angles his head, a corner of an ivory velvet lip pulling upward into a dreamy smile.
“A noble cause and a worthy calling.” He casts his glance to the other stallion near him before bringing his attention back to the mare. “I would very much like to be part of it, if you would have me.”
He pauses for a second before he laughs softly under his breath.
you were a vision in the morning when the light came through, i know i've only felt religion when i've lied with you and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you
.
It has been years since she last came to Hyaline.
For years, she has ran when anything felt too heavy. She ran to shed the weight of whatever sat on her shoulders, but something she had began to learn was that no matter how far she ran, the weight followed her. No matter how far she ran, it didn’t change that Rhaegor was gone. It didn’t change that her father hated her. It didn’t change that anyone she had considered family had slowly disappeared. The girl that had once been surrounded by more love than she knew what do with was now suddenly completely, utterly alone.
When the first blaze of fire was breathed across Tephra, she had for once had a completely logical reason to run.
There was a part of her that thinks she should have gone back. There was a part of her that felt like she was abandoning something she had been trying so hard to build; a new life with Rhaegor from everywhere that they had known, a new life that was just for them. But he was gone, and with every passing day the ache in her chest grew bigger. Maybe he wasn’t coming back at all.
She walks, the smell of smoke still clinging to the raven-colored locks of her mane, and she almost doesn’t even realize the familiar path that she follows until she crests a mountain range. She sucks in a sharp breath, her dark brown eyes scanning across a sight that she had seen hundreds of times, but has long since forgotten about. The air smelled different here, and yet it stirred nostalgic memories all the same. She had missed this place, more than she had allowed herself to feel.
By the time she descends from the mountains and onto more level ground, there is a small gathering of horses, their attention focused on the one that was speaking. She draws closer, her gold-blazed face tilting in concentration as she tries to place the face, and that voice. Kensa. It comes to her once she is alongside the other two stallions – one that she does not even realize is Rhaegor’s brother – and instead of feeling the jealousy that she had felt that last time she was here, she finds herself offering the mare an appreciative smile. Unlike everyone else, Kensa had not abandoned Hyaline.
She waits until she has finished, and allows the others to speak as they wish, and when she offers her own voice she speaks to Kensa directly, “I’d like to come back, if that’s okay.” She pauses, her gaze dropping towards the ground for a moment, before lifting back to the gold-flecked woman and continuing, “I never should have left. Hyaline is where I was born, and you should not have been left to try and keep it alive by yourself.” And then, as was her nature, she glances to the other two stallions, offering them a half-smile as she introduces herself as an afterthought, “I’m Chryseis, by the way.”
He doesn’t follow her here, though it might seem like it when he draws up to the small group after she arrives. He does his best to be concerned only with the speaker, the mistress of this place but Chryseis is like a sun burning in his peripheral vision, he could close his eyes and she would glow through the darkness of his lids. He is mad. They have not known each other long enough for Aldric to be so keenly aware of her, and he conceals it.
Kensa, her scent had been a signature all around the border of these mountains and it might have drawn him had he passed close when not retreating from a roaring volcano and a world shaken by war. Just to see if the promises scrawled along her borders were even a shadow of the reality. She is more than he expected, and likely more than he can even see. How bright she burns even as she sets them free, determined to create a world where neither peace nor violence reigns. He can appreciate this, her hope to prevent vast pitches to one direction or the other, a balanced pendulum.
When she is finished speaking a young stallion introduces himself, as does Chryseis. He gives them both his attention in turn, calm and proud but his green eyes are friendly. When it is his turn he snorts softly, never shy, but unused to having attention focused on him. “My name is Aldric. I too would like to stay.”
And not just because she is. He reminds himself, pawing absently at the dust and grass at his feet.
