The Lost Islands
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Falls

Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.

~ MY CUP RUNNETH OVER;



▻ four years - 14.3 hh - national show horse mutt - no home ◅
gold champagne sunshine pearl pangare sabino



It is perhaps the meditations dept, getting lost in the feel of the earth’s voice, that leaves her so vulnerable to not hear the splashing approach of Kamekaze. Ironclad had warned her, had kept her at least safe enough to be able to pursue the fate the Oracle had spoken of to her. The dilemma was finding that Master who was truly Master of his demesne and not only King or Emperor or whatever other title they named themselves in taking the land.

She aches to realize that prophecy, to know her Man of Fire - of what kind of Fire he was supposed to be. Was it fire in his hide that she called him thus? Was it fire in the land he possessed? Was it fire in his spirit? In his name? In his… well, if she met him now - it was likely in his loins, she laughed to herself. Somehow there was a man that would embody Fire to her and he would lead her to a land where she would rule behind but beside him. Not his queen, for rulership was not the position a Chalice ever held -- but a coveted bond that none would impede save death. An advisor, a link to the call of his demesne, a comrade in the spiritual essence of his innermost being -- and sometimes such bonds produced passions in the body.

That was the purpose of the Chalice, to produce bounty in all manners.

A bounty she would not give to any but the Master she was due by fate. Not even the handsome stranger who approached through the spray that lined her watery curtain on either side. Her blue eyes are not entirely trusting - but he offers no offense and so she takes none. "It is an exiles lament, but the tune is a beautiful one and one that I feel dearly in my core." She lays her meditation to rest by speaking, settling the ley lines so that their voice was not so loud in her ears. "I did not think I had an audience."

It is not that she is cold, but she does not verbally welcome him so much as take a few steps back and to the side to allow him to enter the chamber without encroaching on polite space between them. She can feel her season on her well enough not to trust a stranger any more than that.

Chalice
[ none (x unknown) ]
html © Riley | image © BAB



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