The Lost Islands
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Your King
Asmodeus
Your Queen
Nyimara
The Second
None
The Herd
Name, Name, Name
The Sub-Herd
Name, Name, Name
Allies
Name (Land)
Enemies
Solomon (Cove)
The Rules
  • There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue.
  • We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc.
  • The King and Queen have final say in all matters.
the gods contend in vain; renaissance
Posted on January 10, 2013 at 07:31:34 PM by el aran

Beschea

Morning brought with it the sun, the promise of heat, and the scent of a stallion on the wind. El Aran noted the new smell, ears pointed forward and nostrils flared wide as she drew in a few shallow breaths to add the scent to her memory. She did not think her son would venture away from the safety of the oasis or her side to investigate the newcomer, but colts were unpredictable things, especially as the two of them had been alone for the greater part of a year. The black mare ducked her head to nose at Orhan’s still-bony withers before she strolled over to the water that pooled so generously in the middle of the oasis. It was their own private paradise, and the seer was reluctant to allow another into their sanctuary. Despite all of her losses and suffering, the world still turned. When one stallion fell, another would rise to take his place. Such was life.

As the carrier of the smell was not yet in eyesight (and might not be for many days; who could tell? He might vanish as quickly as El Shetan had, perhaps without her encouragement), El Aran dipped her head to drink and focused almost entirely on the day’s routine. One ear swiveled to check the movements of her son, and before her thirst was slaked she lifted her slightly-dished head to stare out over the sands. Soon they would be hot, almost uncomfortably so under the hooves of whoever crossed them, and the smell of water would in all likelihood be a bigger draw to the newcomer than even her scent. Mares had always been seen as desirable objects on the islands— a rather backward way of thinking, in her opinion. El Aran would not be surprised if the stallion swooped in and attempted to corral her into his harem.

But for now she dropped to her knees in the water, and then onto her side. A small smile reached her wrinkled lips as her dry and dusty coat soaked up the liquid, and the black mare rolled. It was odd to feel water in her ears, but it felt good to immerse herself. She worked her back against the submerged dirt and reveled in the simple motions of her roll. Only when her itchiness was relieved and her body had mostly cooled did El Aran right herself and climb to her feet again. With a great shake all along her skinny body, she slapped her tail against her flank with the intent of flinging water at her son. She snorted, amused, and turned to watch for the newcomer.

el aran
Seer of Aşk.

html by russell for uforia


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