The Lost Islands
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Common

Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.

kufa ni yetu sabili
Posted on April 21, 2020 at 09:52:41 PM by Nzingha


Nzingha did not have long to wait, though she would gladly have stood until the sun had made a full circuit if that was the spirits' will. The cream-colored mare who approached was one whom the shaman's eyes had touched only briefly, finding nothing to hold them there in that instant. But she was held now - motionless as a stone, captivated by the sway of the feminine creature's belly. Mjamzito... of course. Life was sacred - and those who carried it a vessel for the spirits, whether they heard them or not. This was surely their will.

The woman's voice was so soft that Nzingha could scarcely hear it over the murmur of the sea; she leaned forward subconsciously, her dark figure yearning towards the light. Curled ears likewise strained forward so that their tips brushed one another, twitching once at the warning her new companion imparted. Of course, the dangers present in any place were not of particular concern to Nzingha, who had communed with the souls of the departed and braved the darkest shadows. But it did give her cause to wonder what sort of creatures existed here, who might profane such a sacred place with blood and violence.

"Must one be lost in order to be found? If so, then I suppose that I was," the Marwari offered in response... speaking - like many of her kind - with a shadow on her tongue. It was her slender body that communicated her intentions with clarity, quivering with excitement as she offered her muzzle in the customary exchange of breaths. No sooner had her dark skin brushed the other mare's freckled lips, however, than the gesture was interrupted by the arrival of another white-gold creature, this one male.

Nzingha's head listed to one side as he spoke, her dark eyes politely bemused. She had never known the spirits to concern themselves with courtesy before, but this Solomon had indicated that they would be displeased if an exchange of names was not offered. A skeptical frown curved the shaman's lips, but she hastened to introduce herself regardless. Even if the spirits didn't care, after all, niceties must still be observed when they were called for.

"I am called Nzingha," the black woman offered, dipping her skull-masked head in greeting. She paused long to allow her companion to speak, then continued in a more impassioned voice that held an edge of irritation. "And it was the spirits you speak of that led me here. I am but a servant to their will - as are you, whatever mission you may claim here," That said, Nazingha's gaze returned to the other woman's rounded figure. It wasn't quite a dismissive gesture, but it was clear in the tension of the shaman's body and the twist of her lips that she had been irked by Solomon's comment. "And you, my dear?" The Marwari prompted of the white-frosted female. "What is your purpose here?"

It was a question far more important than the syllables they used to call each other, and she awaited its answer with a burning eagerness.
NzinghA
mare . six . black sabino overo . marwari . 16.0hh
html by russell


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