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.
Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on December 21, 2016 at 07:51:38 PM by Macabre




"If Love himself weep, shall not lovers weep,
learning from what sad cause he pours his tears?
Love hears his ladies crying their distress,
showing forth bitter sorrow through their eyes
because villainous Death has worked its cruel
destructive art upon a gentle heart,
and laid waste all that earth can find to praise
in a gracious lady, save her chastity."

The Peak had entered into a somber and solemn period.

It was as if time stood still while Jetta and the few remaining herd members grieved the loss of Inka, a longtime staple in the stability and leadership of their tribe. Impa, the Peak's longtime prime minister, was no where to be found. Macabre had scaled the steepest peaks of the terrain looking for her and any other signs of life, but only found the stale scents of Inka in the breeze. It was a cruel reminder of what the Peak had once had been. The petite mare worried what would come of this place now.

Macabre did her best to dote on Jetta and the rest of Inka's family during this trying time. It was important to her that she do whatever she could to lift the spirits of the horses she truly cared for the most. But Inka's two young sons had seemingly moved on from the Peak. Jetta did not mention her young sister(s) or where they could be these days. For much of the time, Macabre felt useless.

So she hovered over Lillith and her growing filly, showing them around the Peak and doing her best to keep the remaining herd together. During the day they'd spend most of their time in the low lying areas, grazing among the valleys before finding higher, safer elevations for the evening hours. Days came and went. Summer was nearing its end and the crisp taste of autumn was beginning to roll in. Macabre thought of Vodnik and Allill, and the life she had left behind on Atlantis, less and less. But that hardly meant her mind wasn't filled with other worries.

On this particular day, Macabre found herself instinctively and obsessively checking the borders of the Peak's terrain. It was a habit she had learned from Vodnik that she clearly hadn't let go of, despite the change of scenery. She was rounding a grouping of trees that opened up to a flat valley where a cold-water stream snaked its way through, bringing chilly, pure water from the melting snow in the peaks ahead. THe chestnut mare stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the looming figure of a stallion there. Clearly this was unexpected, and her first instinct told her to flee. She trembled for a moment, frozen in place, as she studied the stallion from behind wide, dark eyes. It took a moment for her to realize there was some familiarity there... this stallion, he looked too much like Inka to be a rogue intruder. Perhaps against her better judgement, the mare issued a shrill whinny to him, her lips parting as she huffed out her call, and walked cautiously toward him.

"Argento?" She questioned as she moved closer, within speaking range, and stopped before she reached the stream's edge. Tall, green blades of grass tickled her knees as she stared at him.




"Hear then how Love paid homeage to this lady;
I saw him weeping there in human form,
observing the stilled image of her grace;
and more than once he raised his eyes toward Heaven,
where that sweet soul already had its home,
which once, on earth, had worn enchanting flesh."

Macabre | 6 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




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