Aplos Riverside

Moladion’s powerful, winding river...
Aplos River is a broad, slow-moving river originating from somewhere beneath the mountains of Spirane and feeding Iromar’s moors in the south. The northern parts of the river are known for their strong currents, with the water becoming slow moving in the south. The riverbanks vary along its course, ranging from soft hummock grasses to small groups of pine, and sometimes nothing but pebbles and sand. Crossing can be difficult at times, but it can be swam or bridged by fallen trees or boulders alike.

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Just a Rainbow In The Dark
IP: 24.248.207.26

I Can Barely Look At You
But Every Single Time I Do,
I Know We'll Make It Anywhere
Away From Here




I feel a disturbance in the air. Nothing seemed amiss, there was not even wind to stir through the late autumn branches and rattle the leaves. And yet, I felt the change as surely as if Day had turned to Night in a single instant. Blue too, seemed ill at ease... the small Jay paying the fish hardly any mind as he began to bob and ruffle his feathers, clearly perturbed. When a sinister voice that seems to rasp with the same cold blooded quality of a snake to my ears, the stellar's Jay suddenly squawked and barked a few chortled warning cries before fluffing his wings and retreating to the safety of a nearby tree branch. His beady eyes glare at the uninvited dinner guest, and I felt the fur on the back of my neck prickle to life as my smokey amethyst gaze slides across his figure. He slithers out of the penumbra, the Shadows not quite willing to fully release him to the light as his reptilian aura oozed a toxic energy that feels hostile to my mystic senses even from this distance. I remain visibly calm, ever a portrait of tranquility- even as my stomach contorted into tight knots of ill-ease.

His mercurian stare roves across my figure with a sense of Hunger behind them, mixed with a sick sense of humor that I neither understood nor wished to. There was Lust there, whether it was for Blood or more I could not say, though I've no care for either ilk in this moment. My body was my Temple, and without Imprint or Mate it has remained Whole, pure and untouched. I was naiive to the games of the Sexes... but that Look, scathing as it was, was unmistakeable even to me.

I stand to my full height, obsidian and white tassel curling across my back in a dominant posture as I took a single step forward to covet my catch between my forelegs, in case this were merely a ruse by a thief looking to pilfer an easy meal. "I'm afraid you'll have to make due with what you can catch on your own, Stranger."

It is not spoken unkindly, but the notes of my sultry velvet voice are firm, and hold an undertone of warning. I did not wish for violence to break out, but I would hold my ground if I had to. I was a Shamaness born as the daughter of a Shamaness, but My heritage held the deep penetrating roots of legendary warriors, barbarians and heroes. I was not a push over. Just, a gentle Soul.

Suddenly, there is a sound, a soft gentle sound. One, that even at this moment could instill a renewed sense of peace... along with an inner joy that fizzled and crackled to Life in a single instant. I turned, my fierce expression falling into an open-mouthed gasp as I recognized the gentle masculine luaghter that tantalized my senses. Amethysts widened in surprise, drinking in his figure as he suddenly floated onto the scene.

"H..Hawthorn..." I spoke in a hushed, nearly reverent stammer. I shook myself, orbs blinking, and yet there he stood as clear as the sun. Present company momentarily forgotten, I took a couple steps towards the wayward Gypsy. "But, I thought you'd gone on... Surely you are a Specter come back from the Beyond to pay your Dear Friend Orca a visit?"

Tassel danced from side to side, a delicate flutter to mirror the inner glee I could not contain. Neck bows in an elegant, inquisitive arc, raspberry tip extending to sip of his spicy, worldly cologne before ever so gently coming to caress his shoulder. Firm. Tangible. Finite. He was warm, and very very real. No Ghost, No Angel. But Hawthorn in the Flesh.

"It really is you...." She breathed in a hushed sigh of words. This wolf who had rescued her from the flames of the Cataclysm, had raised her amongst his band of merry nomads, and been as much of a mentor to her as her own parents if not even more so. When he had gone, apart of Orca that was Me had gone with him. To see him now... it brought an onslaught of emotions swirling just beneath the surface that I could not define.

Eyes that had been transfixed upon his lovely hazel armor were suddenly broken from his spell of enchantment when he spoke, his words and attention clearly directed now to the Stranger. Thrown back into a state of alert awareness, I turned back to Czech and shook my head. "I know him naught Hawthorn,"

It is all I need say. I never speak ill of a Wolf I know nothing of, but my gut instincts tell me this stranger did not wish to make friends nor be civil, and I trusted Hawthorn's ever observant eyes would catch the subtle signs of my body language that I did not care for this other male's company at the moment.

"I am Glad you are Here..." And not just Here, for the obvious reasons, but back in Moladian. Back... in my Life again.
...You've Been the Only Thing That's Right In All I've Done...


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