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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.
here the world is quiet Posted on August 14, 2013 at 00:47:09 AM by f l e e t e
fleete
It is the grey hour before dawn, and autumn's vibrant hues have been buried beneath a layer of darkness like shifting ash. The pale-tawny mare stands in a lonely vigil at the edge of the clearing where a smell herd sleeps, her hazel eyes probing the shadows. Save for the intermittent breath of wind that tousles the wayward strands of her forelock, the forest is as still and silent as the glassy pool of water beside which she stands. And yet... a restlessness, a vague wanting, haunts the edges of Fleete's aimless thoughts. Her fragile world, balanced on knife's edge for so long, is teetering, and she knows that the precarious balance she has maintained is about to be lost, the shards of her life that she has painstakingly pieced back together on the brink of shattering once more.
Beneath the shelter of her body, the dark filly senses her agitation and stirs fretfully, whimpering as the darkness that surrounds them encroaches on her dreams. Curving her neck down to brush her lips softly across the child's russet forehead, Fleete's thoughts inevitably turn to the day she had discovered the filly beside Lyonesse's unmoving body. Her first impulse had been to turn and flee, to abandon this product of misery and murderer of her daughter to the fate that inevitably awaited her. But then the filly had stirred, her hooves scrabbling for purchase in a pool of Lyone's congealing blood, and the stub of her tail dancing wildly in its attempts to balance her efforts to stand. It was that tail, that unique trademark of her daughter, that had prompted Fleete to approach with tentative, wary steps. And once closer, she had been unable to resist the instinct to clean the coat with vigorous swipes of her tongue, trying not to dwell on the fact that it was her daughter's blood that filled her mouth with its unpleasant, coppery taste. And as the dark coat dried and fluffed out, her mind was filled with memories - not only of her daughter, but of the man who had sired her.
Bondurant's memory has continued to haunt her since, growing more persistent with each season that passes. Some days she sees his dappled form through the trees and chases it until her weary limbs cannot carry her another stride; others, she cannot stand for the all-consuming ache of his absence. Fleete finds no comfort in the catharsis of her tears, no escape in the devotion she feels for her new daughter; the bay filly, conceived through circumstances not unlike those Fleete had endured when she had first met Bondurant, is both an unintentional reminder of her past and a promise of the continued anguish of her future. She had remained to haunt this forest, close to Bondurant's memory, in the hopes that he would one day return, and has struggled to accept she will never again meet the gentle probe of his emerald gaze, or borrow of the strength that had been tempered by wisdom.
Unless...
As the discarded remnants of her dreams sift down like cold ash, a new one is born. Warmth envelops her cold body, animating it as hope, and a newfound purpose, sear through her veins like liquid fire. There is no reason to believe that Bondurant would return, but if she were to leave as well - then perhaps she could find him. Fleete rouses the fillies with a gentle nudge, and then, without a backward glance, disappears into the depths of the forest, following the sea's siren-call.
By the time she has reached the Crossing, however, Fleete is forced to make a difficult decision. Fawne, who is older, had easily weathered the swim from Luthien, but the dark bay filly swayed where she stood; she would not survive the longer journey to the mainland. Driven by the wildfire desire to keep moving, the mare's hazel eyes alight on the mountain. She has been here long enough to have heard the whispers of the warrior-women, and it is with these tales in her mind that she makes the most callous and cold-hearted decision of her life. Coaxing the weary and reluctant child through the rugged terrain of the mountainside, Fleete climbs until the breath burns in her lungs, and then pauses to rest in a mountain steppe. And it is there that she abandons the slumbering child to the care of the Vulcan mares, her goodbye silent on her lips.
| akhal-teke x andalusian | mare | six | 16hh | chestnut pearl |
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