"For every brother you bring to our
midst, you may keep a trinket all to
yourself. She will not be sullied or traded, unless you deem otherwise. But should you bring a mare here without a new brother first, then I will consider her property of the Lagoon as a whole and do with her as I see fit." - Garmr
The Offspring
None
Rules
• The Lagoon is where homeless stallions come to live as a brotherhood. Mares may not live here except as captives or companions for the Leaders.
• Soldiers keep mainly to fighting, Thieves keep mainly to raiding, and Associates may do both, neither, or act as diplomats. Members may issue their own battles and raids, but should generally consult the General, Marauder or Boss for permission.
• All major decisions are determined by vote, but the Boss maintains order within the Lagoon 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 Lagoon works on the Rules page.
• Upon election, the Boss can issue a rule for members to follow during their tenure. It is up to leadership to enforce.
cold to the core Posted on June 14, 2022 at 02:48:20 AM by charybdis
there will be blood in the water Blind as she is to half the world, she sees, with clarity, that something invisible hangs in the air around the mare who appears without warning, like a storm brewing unseen over the horizon. And Charybdis has no desire to get caught up in it. Still, out of respect for the polite stranger, and too, perhaps, the stallion to an extent (since it was evident they were familiar with one another, and the red-shouldered mare was the unbelonger here), Charybdis tilts her head, and acknowledges Oswin. In case the Peak mare hadn’t caught her name before, Charybdis repeats it: “Charybdis of the Ridge,” and then she turns away.
But not before she pauses, to level a look at the stallion.
It is in the angling back of her ears that she expresses the mix of displeasure and disappointment, but aggression still remains far from the surface of her, and she does not challenge or push back. It is enough, more than enough for her, for now. In her heart, though, she hopes Jabari will learn that she came for him, if he doesn’t already know. Surely, asking to speak with him will mean something, even if it isn’t the main reason she came.
The thief who had taken him, wasn’t either, Charybdis had just used him as an in.
Promptly turning aside from the pair of leaders, Charybdis splashes over to Charon and Acheron, where they have watched the battle unfold. The young males make as if to turn and head further away, correct in the belief that Charybdis needs to speak to them privately. But the half-blind mare stills them with a soft snort. She needs to tread lightly here, of this she is acutely aware. And it is enough, she thinks, this small distance from Charon’s father, especially given the heaviness that Charybdis still senses in the air.
She takes a moment to study them both, her crooked heart swelling in her breast at how they’ve grown. The silence lengthens, and she reaches slowly, offering her muzzle. Skylla’s son is the one who reaches back and moves to meet her. The small and slender shadow beside him stays right where he is, the blue of his eyes skimming over her only briefly. It is better this way, Charybdis thinks. Especially in light of what she is about to ask of the one she thinks of as Guide.
All rivers run their own paths, and the silent young stallion will be no different. Maybe it is only at the end they’ll find their way back to her.
But maybe not all of them.
“Dere is a boy,” Charybdis begins, dragging her eye from Acheron’s face to meet Charon’s steady, patient gaze. She believes, and perhaps it is naive and presumptuous of her, that there will be no judgment from this red and white boy. (How the colours of him, the contrast and the sharpness made soft by the tranquility that edged every line of him, pressed down on her, so that it hurt to breathe, and it hurt to be alive). “I ran from 'im, into de shadow of my mountain, because 'im frightens me.” There is no shame in the truth she speaks. The face of a ghost would surely frighten anyone who had sense and was sensitive to the world in the way she was.
“You cannot find him,” Charon murmurs with quiet confidence. At an affirmative nod from the white mare, the sooty stallion hums beneath his breath. He knows, he knows what she’s come here to ask. And he knows that she won’t be able to ask it. Not with her mouth, at any rate. Words fail her. But her eye, he sees all in that keen eye of hers. It is a maelstrom, and he will drown in it if he looks too long. “I have not dreamed of green upon the horizon,” the young male says at length, his words soft, and carefully measured out.His gaze is unfocussed now, and though he stares at her still, he sees beyond Charybdis. “Perhaps he is not where you left him. If you wish to find him, humbled hierophant, you must be thorough.” With the words still hanging in the air, Acheron turns away, and Charon moves to follow.
They leave Charybdis in their wake, and she lingers a few moments longer, her face darkening under the shadow of deep thought. And then she, too, turns, angles her face toward the stallion as she departs the way she came, though it is her blind eye that passes over him, so she does not see. Wading through the deepening water, the salt still stinging in the same old wounds, Charybdis kicks off from the sand beneath her hooves, and allows the waves of the ocean to carry her Home.
the half-sighted augur of the ridge