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 Posted: Thu Apr 28, 2011 7:53 pm
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Posted: Thu Apr 28, 2011 7:59 pm
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Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2011 8:51 am
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You know how the story goes...
The multi-colored sacs hang suspended between branches, their only movement the occasional twitch as the little larvae inside them move. He likes to think it is because they’re dreaming, happy dreams filled with sunshine and fireflies and running. He likes to think, but he knows that not every dream is happy, and some are so very terrifying. It’s why he watches, blending with the trees as his unique pelt allows. Soft whispers reach the sacs, telling of the wind rushing through your ears, of long nights watching fireflies and simply sitting contently. Of the many festivals and stories told and the terrible beauty of the Swamp. Quietly, determinedly, he talks and speaks and tells.
These words, raspy and echoing oddly in the warm water, are some of the only he ever speaks. Sometimes young colts and fillies search him out, spurred by the whispers of an ancient buck who wanders the swamp. A quiet smile drifts to his face; sometimes they think he is twenty feet tall and breathes fire, others think he eats those who ask him silly questions. Ah, the ingenuity of youth.
‘Wise’ they say. Is he wise? He’s not so sure.
Rarely do they actually find him, inconspicuous as he is. Those who do, with luck or skill, are the ones with questions to ask, and stories to tell. He listens quietly, even when they do not find him. He always listens. Sometimes he speaks, things he has learned and comforts offered, and sometimes in a low murmur he tells his own stories.
They leave soon after, some quiet and pensive and some irritated at being ‘cheated’. Bright yellow eyes follow them. He knows that they will learn themselves, that no stories or words of wisdom will help them in their journeys through life. He can only hope to offer comfort, momentary consolation for life’s woes.
Stumbling, hesitant, they remind him of what could have been. He was not always alone, and she was like the sun, laughing and bright, always racing ahead of his slow gait and doubling back to laughingly nudge him forward. His darling, sweet love. Old as he is, grief still echoes in his heart, even though tears are no longer shed. Her joy warmed his days, yes, but the look on her face as she gazed upon their own children, little fragile sacs amongst the harsh reality of the swamp – well, the thought of that look is why he sits here, why he waits for these little ones to take their first breaths in the world and tumble into the world. His sunshine was gone; foals vanished before they could breathe the humid air. But these little ones, these he can attend with careful eyes, these he protects until they totter off in search of companionship.
It is his self-appointed duty, taken up because she is gone, they are gone, and yet he is still here, wandering the swamp that was their home. It is his bittersweet life, caught between the memory of what could have been and the beauty of what is.
And as delicate membranes burst open, spilling blind and shocked foals to the marshy ground, he fades into the trees until only his eyes stand apart, and then they too vanish. Others are out there for him to find and guard, and he searches for them gladly. |
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 10:02 am
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Name| Nocturne of Shadow
Gender| Female
Stage| Doe
Obtained| Ocarina of Time writing contest
Uncert| Link
Font Color| #848482
Speech Color| #BF00FF
Roleplays|
Hidden Messages :: Grasswhistle [A.V]
Naming Dream| ♥♥♥
Keywords| social | depressing | cheerful
Personality|A darkly humored Kimeti, Nocturne of Shadows can be a bit depressing. She herself is not depressed, but she is fascinated with what can go wrong and the negative side of things. Many of her scenarios are so ridiculous as to be funny, such as a band of fireflies forming a hand and picking an unlucky Kimeti up to toss them in the air. It takes a hardy Kimeti to put up with Nocturne, and one who learns to not take her seriously – and that her pessimism is not an insult. She can be called cheerfully negative, since she always has a smile and a happy tone. Her tendency to exaggerate, even when not fabricating some ridiculous story, is enormous.
Nocturne is a very social Kimeti, always enjoying the feeling of being around others. Unfortunately, she tends to drive Kimeti off with her dismal stories and is always searching for others who can at least tolerate her sense of humor. She currently travels alone. Despite this constant rejection, she is flirty, a very physically affectionate doe. Her creativity can be put to good use when charming another Kimeti – though she does have to work a bit to put her outrageous tales out of her head, and sometimes she’ll spout an offbeat story out of habit. She always seeks out companionship, and is trying to find a group of Kimeti who complement her personality. Nocturne is a secret romantic.
Nocturne loves to sing, sometimes haunting melodies and sometimes happy ditties. When she’s not story-telling, she’s singing or humming whatever comes to mind. She loves to dance too, leaping and twirling gracefully from hoof to hoof, be it to her own music or the sounds of the swamp. Her usual walk is more of a prance, a stride of skipping steps, always graceful.
Her childhood nickname was ‘firefly’, because of her golden eyes – and her fascination with them. Nocturne can wax poetic for hours about their beauty, the reflection of their little lights off of water. She’s always preferred the night, becoming mostly nocturnal, and fireflies are definitely a part of that. The new moon night is a tradition for Nocturne, a time of introspection and solemnity. It is her alone time, the one time she actually seeks out solitude, because she finds comfort in the darkest night – she likes to talk to the Swamp, tell the Mother about her thoughts.
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Posted: Mon Jun 27, 2011 8:29 pm
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Name| Without Warning
Nickname| Surprise
Gender| Female
Stage| Doe
Obtained| Thread Raffle
Uncert| Link
speech color| #0892D0
Naming Dream| ♣♣♣
Personality| Without Warning is a hunter by trade and nature. She lives for the thrill of the hunt, finding the best places. In fact, she lives for anything that pleases her. Adrenaline junkie is the word to describe Warning. She will do anything - anything - for a thrill. The next big thing is just around the corner and Warning is going to find it, going to conquer it. Climbing trees, baiting alligators, swimming in the deep; all of her favorite things. Death is not a problem for Warning, never factors into her adventures, because if she dies then at least she'll be doing something she loves.
However, Warning has a quick temper if things don't go her way, and can be quite childish with her tantrums.
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Posted: Wed Aug 03, 2011 11:11 am
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Name| Fortune
Gender| Male
Stage| Buck
Obtained| Spetiver Contest
Uncert| x
Family| Parents| Snailshell x Vetiver
Siblings| River-swollen, Glossbones, Mugwort, Sorrel, Wallow, Baleful Glare
Children| Afterlight, Seek the Hills, Neverwinter, Downfall
Speech Color|#014421
Naming Dream| ♣♣♣
Personality| Authoritative, opportunistic, manipulative A born leader who accepts no differing opinions. Oh, he’ll let you think he’s fine with your disagreement – and then your breakfast tastes just a little off. And then your opinions never matter again. Fortune is good at rounding up a group to do a job, and do it quickly. The problem comes with the end of the job, and what Fortune feels should be his ‘payment’. Should you disagree, well, be careful where you get your food.
On the plus side, Fortune is a charismatic buck. Those nasty little tidbits of his don’t matter once you hear his voice, because he has a way of speaking that could make you approve of mass murder. Despite his ability to gather followers, Fortune prefers to spend his time alone, searching for problems to ‘fix’, and then to gather a temporary herd.
Picky as can be, and not a dedicated buck, should Fortune find a lady worth more than a passing glance, his single-minded focus can be heady. All of his considerable charisma, all of those suave-sounding words, all focused on one doe – and that’s not to mention the shiny gifts he’ll bring. Like everything else, though, Fortune demands ‘payment’ – in the case of a mating, the most promising of his children.
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