The Lost Islands
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Peak

The Prime Minister

Khar'pern

The Codebreaker

Ashteroth

The General

Marceline

The Companions
None None None

The Thinkers

Naydra
Titan

The Politicians

Ararat
Axelle
Hollis
Mae
Nashira
Serenity

The Warriors

Clarity
Kaeja
Lysimache
Starling

The Trinkets

Beloved
Cato
Cullen
Güneşlenmek
Isengrim
Jigsaw
Kazimir
Octavius
Starscream
Yıldırım

PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE

"None." - Leader

The Offspring

Diccon (Cicada x Khar'pern)

Rules

• The Vulcan Peak is where homeless mares come to live as a sisterhood. Stallions may not live here except as captives or companions for the Leaders.

• Warriors keep mainly to fighting, Thinkers keep mainly to raiding, and Politicians may do both, neither, or act as diplomats. Members may issue their own battles and raids, but should generally consult the General, Codebreaker or Prime Minister for permission.

• All major decisions are determined by vote, but the Prime Minister maintains order within the Peak and has the final say.

• Elections for leadership positions will be held every TLI summer, provided the qualifying criteria are met.

• You can find detailed information about how the Peak works on the Rules page.
LEGENDS NEVER DIE
Posted on February 25, 2013 at 01:27:22 AM by ANATH

She’d left well enough alone. The mare didn’t want conflict in her own home… she didn’t want a lot of things any more. Anath was growing tired. She was, dare she say it, old. As the new season would come in, it would mark fifteen years for the champagne mare. There were so many things that could happen in fifteen years. Summer had always fallen around her shoulders with a certain grace and elegance… it was lovely. Yes, she quite loved summer. It may be the only thing left for the champagne mare to love. Everything changed so fast. She could hardly keep a hold on it.

A realization had struck her not so long ago. She was the only one of the old ones left. Anyone who would remember was gone… it made her sick to her stomach. Anath had been sick for several days. Her head spun when she moved too fast and her belly churned when she tried to eat. It hadn’t been long enough to bring a gauntness to the mare, but something was gnawing at her insides. No one was around that would remember the faces of the kings… how they smelled… the sounds of their voices as they echoed loud and clear. Anath would tell the stories if anyone would listen. No one knew how to listen nowadays.

Bane was around, somewhere. Anath worried not about her daughter. The girl had genes that had survival of the fittest written all over them. Her father was just as rough, just as rugged. Anath didn’t need to know the whereabouts of her offspring. She needed to keep track of the Peak mares, but that was about it. They would knock heads as they would… they were far too much alike to get on well. Bane wouldn’t know the community Anath had, only the fact that there was unrest everywhere. That was always true. Unrest is everywhere.

At least she’d made an alliance. Not necessarily a friend, but a political alliance. A mare that she’d come upon in the Falls not too long ago should be washing up sooner or later… it would be nice to have a friendly face around. Anath shivered every time the rest of the Peak mares came to mind. There had been the colossal dark mare that she’d seemed to hit it off with, but everyone else had been cold… she hadn’t been any friendlier. Their names and faces spun around her head, and nothing seemed to gain any clarity.

Then there was Impa. Anath felt… she didn’t know how she felt. Terrible was the wrong word. Terrible was reserved for things like the death of someone important… terrible was how she felt when she thought of her ghosts. Terrible was an acidic, sick, churning feeling. The mare didn’t want to think too carefully about what had happened with the blanketed mare that day, the day she’d lost control and run off. Always running away from your problems Anath kicked the dirt. Her thoughts weren’t helping any, either. There was no use thinking about her feelings. There was something that needed to be done.

Never in her life had she been forced to make an apology on her own behalf. It had been her father’s death bed request that she send his regards to former members of his family. It had been her job to run around cleaning up the messes of a certain uncle that had a habit of screwing up. Anath was realizing now, twelve years later, that she had been impacted by it. She’d been steered off in an odd direction from birth. Anath realized that she was becoming the people who’d raised her, and that was a problem. It was even worse, in her mind, that she had to do the apologizing on her own.

Her mind was in a faraway place as she stared out to sea. It seemed more and more often that she’d stand and wait for Heart to come dredging from the sea, to stand and stare at her as if to ask why are you still up there? Isn’t there work to be done? The scene played over and over and over in her head. Anath would run to the dark mare, full speed, and nearly bowl her over. They’d fight playfully, Anath would tease the creature about the fact she smelled of sea and sand. Heart would say something about how the champagne mare had greyed, how her mane was now streaked with silver. They would chatter away about how things had changed, but how they could be together again. It’s why she didn’t say goodbye before she left… she’s coming back… she’ll always come back.

The champagne mare isn’t hysterical. Hysterics are illogical. They make her sides hurt, they make her head spin. Her chest aches as she stares out at the fading spring sun. It’ll be summer soon. Summer would mark four and a half years. For four and a half years, Anath had spent her twilights standing upon her little ledge, only large enough for two, watching and waiting. For four and a half years she’d been watching her ghosts play about in the ocean, dancing before her eyes. Those green eyes close now, and for a moment she’s weary. The champagne mare never fancies herself weak, but for this evening, she’s weary.

Anath aches.
Anath
"HEROES GET REMEMBERED
LEGENDS NEVER DIE "
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(c) 2012 and beyond.



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