The Lost Islands
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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.
I don't want you to be afraid
Posted on August 17, 2022 at 11:46:17 PM by oswald


i got an hour or so, take my hand and let it go
call me up anytime, c'mon baby, cry

Oswald had always been a rather large colt, but now that he was nearing two in the upcoming spring, he had grown even larger. It was very clear his build was influenced by his father as, oddly enough, he hardly looked anything like his much daintier framed mother. Still, despite his largeness, Oswald moved with slow, quiet caution. His pale pink nostrils quivered as he drank in deep breaths to test the scents in the air around him and the tips of his dark red ears swiveled in his bushy, thick red mane as he listened all around him.

Having grown up in the Peak and explored extensively from the summit down through the foothills at its base, Oswald didn’t have to move as cautiously as he did. He had learned to rub his scent on various trees that lingered at the edges of wide-open expanses where he would know where it was safe for him to run. He understood where there were dangers of prairie dog dens and fallen trees that might catch his hooves and would be far more careful when it was necessary.

Even though he didn’t mind keeping his own company, Oswald had found he rather enjoyed having his young sister Filumena with him. She was much rowdier and far more boisterous than he was, but she would often act as his eyes, so he didn’t have to move so cautiously. Today, however, he was alone. Filumena was with their mother up at the top of the Peak, where she’d told him she intended to stay. Oswin didn’t come down from the summit as frequently as she used to.

Oswald had felt too restless to remain at the top where his movements were far more limited, and the wind often swept away the smells he would need to guide him about.

He walked idly, exploring the bounds of his home he knew well. Oswald wasn’t sure if the Peak would ask him to leave the older, he grew. His mother had told him he always had a home here if he wanted it, but did that remain true even without her being Prime Minister? He couldn’t imagine any of the Peak mares kicking him out (they were his family after all), but he knew this wasn’t normally a place for a stallion to live.

A soft, beckoning nicker somewhere off to his left drew Oswald to pause. He lifted his thick neck and took in a few searching breaths before catching the familiar scent of the Peak’s General. Immediately his expression brightened. Though his mother and Róisín had their differences, Oswin had done what she could to keep Oswald out of it. He had always been very fond of Róisín, looking up to her like an older sister (even though he technically had two, he’d never met them), and it made him happy to catch her again. She always seemed to busy these days. He’d pick up her scent here and again along the Peak borders, but never once seemed to actually come across Róisín.

Oswald answered her with a deep rumbling nicker of his own, then turned to walk toward where she had called from. “Roi!” His voice still had the happy exuberance of his youth as he trotted close, giving his boxy head a small toss to throw his thick red mane back. His pale nostrils flared outward as he heavily took in her smell, gauging where she was and exactly where he should reach to share a small greeting with her. As he tucked his chin back he pointed his ears at her and said, “Can I keep you company for a little bit?” He wondered if she was intending to take off soon and knew his more careful way of moving would slow her down.


...
tyr x oswin; sooty red roan splash, completely blind

image (c) pacificnoir@da



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