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 August 8, 2017 at 02:33:25 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 winters on the Peak were cold, too frigid for Macabre's liking. While the terrain wasn't all that different from what she'd come to experience living in the Ridge, it was far chillier here in the colder months on the Crossing Isle. So much so that Macabre tended to avoid the higher elevations, where the air was thinner and seemingly that much more brisk. That said, as the winter storms began to blanket much of the Peak, the usually more lush vegetation at the base of their summit was the first to wither and die. Macabre tried her best to scrounge up whatever green blades were left by pawing through packets of snow. But the foal growing inside of her kept her hungry nearly all of the time. Nibbling on these cold, nearly dead reeds was not enough to satisfy her endless hunger.

Thus, she grit her teeth and began the climb. Macabre knew the rocky paths well enough to stick to more well worn inclines. It was treacherous for any horse to be climbing in the snow at this height, let alone a pregnant one. But Macabre took her time, taking easy and small steps, testing her footing on each uneven boulder before moving a new hoof to the next one. Eventually she found a healthy patch of hardened brush, where she chose to graze for some long while. She licked at the snow in an attempt for water as the sides of her barrel heaved from her journey.

When a piercing call broke through the otherwise quiet morning, Macabre's small head snapped up. Her lips twitched and so did her ears, swiveling in all directors as the call bounced off the walls of the boulders all around her. Her small, marbeled eyes searched the immediate distance until she spied the familiar frame of Rowena a peak over. Macabre swallowed what was left of the leaves in her mouth and whinnied back. Kicking up her front ankles in a silly attempt to help Rowena spot her among the rocks and the snow. "Stay there!" She shouts back, before ambling down the path in which she came with gingerly steps.

Macabre's soft nostrils flared as she scaled the next peak over. It took her a good deal of time to descend one peak and ascend the next. But when she finally reached the point where Rowena was standing, she nickered in between her heavy breaths, thankful the excursion was over and delighted to see her friend again. "Rowena." She said hoarsely, in between gulps for air. "You made it. I was beginning to worry."





"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 | 12 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




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