a silver tongue cannot hide a dark heart (macabre) - " />
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
Gόneşlenmek
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.
a silver tongue cannot hide a dark heart (macabre)
Posted on December 17, 2016 at 04:46:22 PM by ARGENTO



So far Gent's time in the lagoon had been like a vacation. It was quiet, for starters, which normally he was not partial to - being a horse who preferred company and merriment - but the last few weeks it had been just the right kind of balm for his troubled mind. His mother's death had washed over him like a bad dream, but in its wake it had left a sour taste in his mouth: a taste that left him insatiable for more. More adventure, more memory-making, and more pursuing his own self-interests for nothing more than the pleasure it brought him. He had become aware of his own mortality, and he did not intend to waste it.

The tranquillity of the place was beginning to wear thin, however. Initially he had liked it for how removed from reality it seemed, but now he was becoming bored and lonely. The few scents he had stumbled upon that indicated other stallions were using the lagoon as a refuge were no longer enough to reassure him that it was not completely abandoned. The brotherly camaraderie he had found with Diamant and Ailill and the deep familial affection he held for Inka and Jetta were nothing more than distant memories now. His heart had begun to ache for a replacement, and he was becoming less certain that he would find that in the lagoon. Argento was too sociable to be alone forever.

So it was that one grey autumn day the young stallion swallowed his apprehensions and followed the trail that led back into the Peak. He did not expect to find Diamant or Jetta, or even Taika; indeed, it crossed his mind briefly that perhaps there might be no one but complete strangers in his birth home now, and that they might not take kindly to a strange stallion wandering in. 'Stallion', he thought with sceptical amusement. If I can call myself that. For though he had blossomed into a handsome young male, with his sire's bright coloration and his mother's impressive musculature, it was strange to think of himself as an adult. The world was still just as big and bewildering to him as it had been when he was a child.

This feeling – this sensation of smallness that Argento felt – had only intensified with his mother's death. And as he trekked the low foothills and stopped at a stream to drink, it was difficult to ignore the presence of the mountain looming overhead. Gent tried not to think about his mother's bones atop that Peak, turning to dust in the wind and rain, but it was difficult. There was something almost symbolic about the way she had died, so high in the sky while he was helpless on the ground, and when his mind got a chance it liked to obsess over it, as though by looking at the situation from every angle, perhaps he would be able to understand it. As if there was any real meaning in death.

The young stallion stared at his reflection in the water and felt a sudden surge of self-hatred. With a sharp intake of breath he abruptly dunked his face in the freezing cold stream, and gasped at the shock of it as he jerked his dripping wet head back up. It did the trick, at least – for a few moments he could not remember what he had been thinking about.


ARGENTO
2; bay splash blanket; friesian mutt; 16.1hh


html and character by shiva; pattern from colourlovers
image by pirate



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