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.

tear me to pieces, skin to bone open

isn’t it lovely, all alone
filly - 2 - EE aa nD - 15.1hh - Björn x Kirova
heart made of glass, my mind of stone

Ravine’s only memory of the Lost Islands was Tinuvel’s cold, pebbly shore as her mother ushered her into the sea, but it was enough. She was nearly two years old now - old enough to choose her own path. She snuck away from her mother’s side on the Mainland before the light of dawn, and though her memory of the Islands was tarnished by time, it was all she had to follow.

The ocean at night looked hungry, and for a few minutes, Ravine reconsidered her decision to return. Her small hooves pressed into the sand where she stood, looking out over the waves, her ears twisting uncertainly through her tangled mane. Seawater swept up around her feet, swirling her dark feathers around her still-spindly legs. Was she really ready for this? The grullo mare swallowed. She was afraid to leave her mother, but she had to see her home - had to see the place she was born. There was a chance her father was still there, or maybe siblings. Even if she could not find any family out there, Ravine knew she could not stay here. She was an outsider, the child of a different land, and her mother’s family treated her differently for it.

Ravine hated it. The young mare took a breath to steel herself, and pushed forward into the sea.





By the time Ravine’s hooves touched soft sand, the sky was bright and warm. She hauled herself out of the surf, numb with exhaustion, eyes and throat dry and stinging from the salt. Beneath her tiredness, she felt pride for making this journey, as well as guilt for sneaking away from her mother the way she had. The guilt was strong now, but Ravine knew it would fade. Even as she looked with wonder at the land before her, she felt the remorse chipping away to reveal awe. She could smell other horses through the brine, and she took a shaky step forward. Sand turned to grass beneath her feathered hooves, and she let out a hoarse cry.

”Hello?” she called, searching for any others who might tell her where she was, confirm that she had found the right place; she knew in her heart that she had, but she wanted to hear it from another.

Ravine;
dante


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