Peak |
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The Prime MinisterKhar'pern |
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The CodebreakerAshteroth |
The GeneralMarceline |
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The Companions |
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The ThinkersNaydraTitan |
The PoliticiansAraratAxelle Hollis Mae Nashira Serenity |
The WarriorsClarityKaeja Lysimache Starling |
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The TrinketsBelovedCato Cullen Güneşlenmek Isengrim Jigsaw Kazimir Octavius Starscream Yıldırım |
PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE"None." - Leader |
The OffspringDiccon (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. |
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Posted on March 19, 2014 at 01:47:03 PM by jezibelle
 bay blanketed mare of nowhere Since the day the bay mare had opened her sister’s eyes to the reality of their father and the consequences of his abuse, Jezibelle had spent as much time as possible near the skirt of the mountain, hovering on the borders between the Peak and the rest of the Crossing. Today she stood in a small cluster of trees and stared sightlessly ahead of herself. Whenever she ventured up to the rest of the herd, Impa was adamant that they talk. All the time. About everything Jezibelle never wanted to think about again. Her half-blind sister was like the waterfall pouring over rocks: at first, Jezibelle had been able to resist the black mare’s onslaught of questions and demands, but over time it became more and more difficult as Impa wore her down.
It didn’t help that that thing was still alive, jabbing at Jezibelle with its forked tongue and casting sly glances at her aunt. It was so obvious the blood-red girl was looking for the Prime Minister’s acknowledgement it made Jezibelle sick that Impa was blind to it —and the irony in that thought did not escape her. Maybe next time I’ll make sure the Imp is standing on her left side, she thought as she sighed. It was quiet down here, but as she leaned against one of the trees in anticipation of a nap the sound of a horse in a hurry drew her eyes and ears a few yards to her left. There was a stallion there. Jezibelle stood very still but he didn’t seemed to have seen her, and so she stared at him as he, in turn, stared at the mountain. He was ugly, all shaggy-haired and unkempt in a way that suggested neglect rather than a shedding winter coat, and she recognized her own scruffy appearance in his. She looked better now that she was in a herd (though she only ever tolerated her sister’s touch), but for the last six or seven years she had looked as ragged as the silver-black male did. It was that observation that prompted her away from the trees and toward the stranger, although she moved in a slow, wide circle around the stallion and maintained a significant amount of distance between them. Should he step forward, Jezibelle would move away to keep the distance between them the same. He was uglier from the front, missing an ear and hosting an eye as clouded as Impa’s on his left side. Jezibelle stared instead at his right eye, and held his gaze with the intensity of someone who is distracted by something awe-inspiring but also terrifying: with reverence and fear. When she spoke it was as if it took her great effort to focus on her speech instead of simply staring slack-jawed at his haggard face. "Hello," she said. "Are you— are you l... lost?" And she clamped her lips tightly together as she tore her eyes away from him. They darted like moths in lamplight, moving to the right, the left, and down before finally fluttering back up to to linger shyly on his face. |
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