<font color=#414146>YOU LEFT ME IN THE</font> <font color=#1e2026>DARK</font>

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 G�neşlenmek 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.

YOU LEFT ME IN THE DARK
Posted on August 1, 2020 at 05:55:26 PM by impazienza

IMPAZIENZA

The whisper of grass over hoof is a soft but sharp sound. One of Impa's ears tick toward it as she analyzes the tread of the horse approaching: steady, strong, unhurried but prompt. Someone has been keeping watch. The whicker of greeting pulls both of the blanketed draft's ears forward and she angles her head toward the stranger to draw in another breath, confirming by scent that the speaker with the rich, feminine voice is indeed a mare, though not one she recognizes. It is hardly a surprise, given Impa's own age and the length of time she has been away from the isles, however she will not deny the small pang in her chest that it is not one of her known sisters come to welcome her home.

"Yes," Impa replies, focusing on the dark, ill-defined form of the mare to whom she speaks. It is all shadows and shapes these days, nothing distinct except what the wind carries her by way of scent and sound. Again, the musk of stallion settles heavily in her nares, and she snorts. "Anath," she says, thinking the brusque General would never have allowed this masculine invasion unless she had somehow been the one to orchestrate it, though what reasons she may have had would forever remain a mystery. Even as the name slips through her teeth Impa knows the caustic champagne who once defended these slopes with sharp hooves and a sharper tongue must be long gone, and she adds without much hope, "Or Inka."

She draws her whitened muzzle closer to her chest and presses her lips together as she shuffles through the alarmingly short list of names that still have faces attached: only a smattering of mature mares, and even fewer children. There hadn't been many on the mountain when she lived here, certainly not as many in the Forest when she was a girl, but there had been enough to liven the chilly air all the way to the heights each spring. "Perhaps more likely it is Jetta who would remember me, or Adelheid," she continues, thinking of the bay and black splashed sisters who were alike in looks but not spirit.

It seems a silly endeavor she has embarked upon, coming home with the expectation that anyone here might still know her. As good as try to raise the dead from their graves, and well does Impa know how futile that is. Before she can wallow too deeply in memories one ear is drawn back and behind to catch the uneven trample of hooves coming up from her right, hammering from a canter to a weary trot with a stilted tempo that brings one soul in particular to the very top of her heart. Impa swings her head around and knocks her nose against the face of the mare who offers a soft-spoken apology, which the three-quarters blind draft ignores to center her nose on the grulla's forehead and comb affectionately through her damp forelock while uttering soft whickers.

"You've come from the sea," she observes, drawing back now to look over her friend as best she can through her clouded eye. Though Impa has not always been a gracious companion, Mouse has never faulted her for it and instead remained, through all of Impa's travails, a staunch supporter and confidante. To know she is once more beside Impa is the ultimate boon to the blanketed draft, and she faces the unnamed mare ahead of her with a lighter heart. She settles herself to stand hipshot, hind hoof cocked comfortably on its tip, and proceed with introductions: "My name is Impazienza." She tips her head to indicate the mare beside her and continues, "Mouse and I lived on the Peak, years ago." She pauses and draws in another breath. Even with the confusing aroma of stallion, she knows this is exactly where she is meant to be. "It feels good to be home."

17�3 // BLACK BLANKET // DRAFT MUTT // MARE

html made with love for uforia by shiva

Replies:

Ain't life just awful strange - By Wasp August 4, 2020 at 07:52:06 PM
- memory is the mother of all wisdom - By mouse August 29, 2020 at 01:37:50 AM
  - YOU LEFT ME IN THE DARK - By impazienza August 29, 2020 at 02:41:23 PM
    - Ain't life just awful strange - By Wasp September 1, 2020 at 10:45:09 PM
      - memory is the mother of all wisdom - By mouse September 25, 2020 at 01:14:36 AM
        
        YOU LEFT ME IN THE DARK - By impazienza October 21, 2020 at 09:12:40 PM

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Peak

The Prime Minister

The Codebreaker

The General

The Companions

The Thinkers

The Politicians

The Warriors

The Trinkets

PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE

The Offspring

Rules