The Lost Islands
CLICK FOR IMAGE CREDITS

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.
YOU LEFT ME IN THE DARK
Posted on November 8, 2020 at 04:01:03 PM by impazienza




IMPAZIENZA

Impazienza has never considered herself wise.

Nor, in fact, had her father, and it is he she damns as she starts her ascent of the Peak. The early fall morning is foggy and cool, and the wind that shears down from the heights brisk with its echoes of ice. She thinks she remembers the path that will take her to one of her favorite vantage points, a secluded place high in the middle of the mountain where nothing blocks the wind and all one can see —could see— for miles in any direction was slope after mountainous slope amid the drifting clouds. The ground has barely begun to incline underfoot and already her hips ache. "Damn your eyes," she begins, blinking rapidly as if her curse will have any affect on her own vision. Her right eye has nearly become as useless as her left: how will she manage the sheer edge of the cliffs awaiting above when all she can see on a bright, clear day is smeared gray and muted brown?

Her name weighs heavily on her shoulders as she toes her next step, muttering, "Damn you and your short-sightedness," as she feels her way step by tentative step. This fog effectively blinds her. Impa's thoughts grow more and more resentful, her rapidly souring mood punctuating each step she takes up the uneven slope. Were it not for her father, she could be well-entrenched in a territory on one of the outlying islands, enjoying the winter of her life surrounded by those she'd grown old with and commenting crabbily on the antics of the young instead of trying to climb this old rock. Were it not for him, she wouldn't have had to chase her younger siblings halfway around the world. Were it not for him, she'd have been exactly where she was meant to be when the new overturned the old and slotted mares into the same category as stallions, and in her prime she could have risen to take what she had been born to do.

"Damn you!" Impazienza shouts suddenly, only to have her voice flung back into her face like a reprimand as it bounces off the wall directly in front of her and is swallowed in turn by the fog. Her muscles lock and, breathing heavily from her outburst, the blanketed draft mare reaches forward slowly with her nose. Almost immediately her whiskered lips encounter the cold stone face of the mountain, warmed only by her breath fogging up against the rock. Something catches in her chest and escapes her in a low moan. Impa drops her head, leaning to brace her forehead against the stony edifice.

She can't find the path even at the cusp of the valley. She is forced then to remain in the lowlands of the Peak, yearning uselessly for the taste of that high mountain air that always freed her from these mental shackles that clasp now, cold, around each feathered hock. Reality numbs the top of her head.

"Damn you," she whispers, but the mountain does not hear her.
17’3 // BLACK BLANKET // DRAFT MUTT // MARE

html made with love for uforia by shiva


Replies:

Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Link Name:
Link URL:
Image URL:
Password To Edit Post:





Create Your Own Free Message Board or Free Forum!
Hosted By Boards2Go Copyright © 2020


<-- -->