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
Güneşlenmek
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.
send me reeling
Posted on February 28, 2020 at 03:58:00 PM by Rhadra



i’m on fire, again
Rhadra blinks slowly at the intensity of emotion in his gaze as he introduces the bird. This is only a little more strange than the girl who calls her father “Mamapapa,” and again, she’s willing to go with the flow of this Someplace and see where she fits into it. Thus far she feels quite generic, as unremarkable in these lands as she was among a herd of horses around whom she’d grown into adulthood.

With a final glance back and skyward, Rhadra settles her attention back on the stallion as she walks the fine line between pretending and believing the bird will not sweep back around and attempt to clip her ears. His eyes, earlier, had held a different sort of intensity as he answered her question about the Peak, and she is shy about holding his gaze (whereas earlier, by the creek, she’d held no qualms about maintaining an excessive amount of eye contact). He is different from the “Mamapapa,” however: he radiates contentment and peace, an immovable solidity echoed by the mountains at his speckled back.

She dips her white-snipped nose, still overcome by the range and now feeling confronted by a more tangible sort of reverence, as if she’s in the presence of an idol with four hooves. “Are you a holy man?” she asks him softly. “You carry yourself with such grace, and—” Rhadra’s brow furrows slightly as she considers her next words “—there’s the hawk.” No horse that she is aware of communes with creatures outside their own kind. And he has come down from that mountaintop wearing the look of someone who’s seeing much more than the rest.
Rhadra


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