"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
Blackthorn (Starscream x Naydra) Canine (Garmr x Gitch Mantiou) Flynnrir (Garmr x Druna) Kythri (Khyber x Lavender) Luxor (Khyber x Vogue) Saphris (Floki x Emerson) Solas (Khyber x Khar'pern) Temperence (Tribulation x Tawa)
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.
moondust in your lungs Posted on June 7, 2024 at 04:49:06 AM by Vervain
✶
With every day that passed, Vervain’s hope of rescue dwindled. She had known, in the most logical part of her brain, that her family finding her quickly was a long shot. It hadn’t been enough to force her to give up hope though. The naive optimism in her heart promised that, any day now, someone would come. Be it her father, or brother Lir, or somehow Nephilim if he ever did return to the Prairie to find her missing, but someone would surely find her. Her heart had screamed this promise in the beginning when she’d first been brought to the Lagoon, especially when the heat of a summer day dwindled into evening, leaving her in the dark with her captor. It had been a prayer that help would keep the painted stallion at bay.
Now, weeks later, the heat of summer was disappearing and with it her hope. As much as she didn’t want it to be true, fall had come. It had come, and her family had not. Battered and bruised, demoralized and lonely, Vervain struggled now to hold onto the thought of going home. She didn’t want to be here with Peyote, but there was little choice in the matter without knowledge of the way home. With the feeling of his eyes on her at all times, the brindle hadn’t been brave enough for another escape attempt, especially after learning about the giant lizards that waited in the water. The dark man frightened her, but the thought of other, of worse men in the world beyond the ring of mangroves – yes, she’d learned that from him, too – kept the black mare ashore. Would the other men have warned her about the creatures? Or keep her away and undiscovered by the others? Would they answer questions about the land around them to sate what curiosity she allowed to peek through? Would they have simply ignored her boundaries and done whatever it is that stallions want to do? Vervain wondered sometimes if she was lucky a different man hadn’t brought her here.
Peyote, the name of her captor she’d finally learned, had become more forceful as the days ticked by. Vervain still didn’t understand his motivations, being largely unaware about the baser nature of some men. He’d pushed past her boundaries a few times and had hit back hard on the rare occasion the brindle tried to defend herself or dissuade him from coming close. A bruise still lay healing on one shoulder from a recent attempt. She had shed tears that day; it had felt like he was going to tear the flesh from her body. ”You’re mine,” she remembered him saying, ”I wouldn’t have hurt you if you would just accept it and stop fighting me.” With the pain still cripplingly fresh, it had been the first time she considered doing just that.
More and more, Vervain found herself wondering if Peyote had been right after all: if this was home, if she was his. A tender part of herself had begun to recede within her: the hope, the love for her family, her affection for Nephilim. Not gone, but it was slowly being buried with every day that passed. The core of her mind had begun to shift for survival's sake, and every small increment that changed bent the girl closer to submission. The young mare had been exhausted by fear, by isolation, and by Peyote's every word. If she was going to survive, she had to let go of anything but the present, anything but Peyote and his will. Her survival depended on it. How long would it be before his full anger with her was unleashed? How long would he be patient with her?
The brindled maiden had been nearly dozing when the stallion pressed forward, her dark skin soaking up the sunshine available to her. She had known he was nearby. Peyote was always there. In a way, it was a comfort, which would unsettle the girl if she truly thought about it. She’d grown up in constant company; there had never been a moment of solitude unless, of course, she had gone seeking it herself. 'At least,' she had thought, 'I am not alone.' Hearing the whisper of moving saltgrass, her dark ears twisted toward the sound as she glanced in the direction of its source. A single ear splayed in uncertainty when her eyes focused on the stallion moving toward her.
Despite observing his body language and finding no overt threat, Vervain trembled as his body neared her own. He didn’t seem agitated, but previous experience told her that could change in a heartbeat. Her head lowered a few degrees, a wordless show of her beaten-down will. Despite wanting to run or create the space between them again, the black maiden remained still. Maybe if she just did what he wanted, the abuse would stop. The bites, the taunts, the games: would it stop if she just let him touch her? Much of her body stiffened as he came ever nearer, but she did not move except to turn her head more toward him. It was a hell of a wager, but Vervain couldn’t see any other way to test this particular theory. She said nothing as their eyes met again, honey clashing with water, and did not move away.