<font color=455c67 size=2 style="font-variant:small-caps;font-family:times;"><font color=cac5b6>"</font>I can't belong in the dirt.<font color=cac5b6>

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 G�neşlenmek 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.

"I can't belong in the dirt."
Posted on March 4, 2013 at 08:51:37 PM by arris

Arris

"-and in the dirt she lay, her dress torn asunder,
her face a mask of courage and strength."

Some few hours had passed after Arris had left her companion sleeping in the comfort of a small thicket with her tiny child. Wandering across the ridges of the mountain as she did every misty morning, the painted mare had begun to become well acquainted with the place that would be her home for as long as she willed it.

Long ago, when she had watched the blurred and distant figure of her father plummeting off the cliff in the cove, she had decided that she would never become a mother and a lover. Growing a family was only destined to create pain that she could do better without, and she had deduced that Iolar had to be a million times stronger than herself to still be the loving mother and caregiver to the child of the monster that she had once, perhaps, loved. Of course, the blue and white mottled mare would never voice her appreciation for the mare, and did her best to be the second mother to the child when the silver mare was a little less than attentive at some times.

Otherwise, she imagined that she would never have her own child.

Wandering through the thinning trees that clung to the side of the mountain, there was a clear call that cut through the air, breaking through the mist that was still settled against the lower points of the mountain, slowly receding as it found it's way into the valley below. Turning towards the sound, Arris moves easily, dropping her head to snap occasionally at some grass to whet her appetite. The eating here was good, but the food was not as plentiful as back in the savanna. Sometimes she wonders if she had made the right choice to bring the heavily pregnant mare with her, but today she is not going to dwell on the thought. Instead, she makes her way through the trees, finding the flat opening that she had stumbled across earlier in the day, and in it three bodies of horses in the distance.

Naturally, Arris is somewhat careful of group meetings since her last experience with them, and approaches cautiously. Letting her hooves drag over the thick grass on the ground, she holds her head stooped, her mouth hanging somewhere near her knees and her pale shoulders and hips standing out against the greenery. Once she is closer to the three, she notices that they are all familiar faces and lifts up her head, seeing the mare that she had travelled here with accompanied by little Beanna and the General that she had only met earlier this morning. It appeared as though figures of authority were busy in these parts.

Once she was close enough to the group, she greets Iolar first, bumping her pale nose against the mare's shoulder and making a small noise in the direction of the filly before turning to Anath. Watching the mare with pale eyes, she blinks before greeting her. �Hello again, Anath.�

html & character by Russell
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Replies:

memory is the mother of all wisdom - By mouse March 6, 2013 at 02:56:26 AM
- The art of love is largely the art of persistence - By Skylar March 6, 2013 at 05:19:07 AM
  - to the fates: - By IMPAZIENZA March 6, 2013 at 10:40:58 PM
    - You've stolen my Heart - By Aliyana March 7, 2013 at 02:18:09 PM
      - Love is poison - By G O D I V A x S E B A S T I A N March 8, 2013 at 10:39:05 PM
        
        The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off. - By Nila March 9, 2013 at 02:29:08 AM
        
        SHE�S A MESS OF GORGEOUS CHAOS - By BANE March 9, 2013 at 03:59:41 AM
        
        LEGENDS NEVER DIE - By Anath. March 11, 2013 at 01:23:39 AM
        
        Wake me up when September ends - By Iolar & Beanna March 12, 2013 at 07:49:32 PM
        
        to the fates: - By IMPAZIENZA March 20, 2013 at 02:59:45 AM

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Peak

The Prime Minister

The Codebreaker

The General

The Companions

The Thinkers

The Politicians

The Warriors

The Trinkets

PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE

The Offspring

Rules