The Lost Islands
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Peak

The Prime Minister

Khar'pern

The Codebreaker

Ashteroth

The General

Clarity

The Companions
Geçersiz None None

The Thinkers

Bubbles
Chenoa

The Politicians

Harmonie
Hollis
Versace

The Warriors

Starling

The Trinkets

Osmanthus

PRIME MINISTER'S DECREE

None

The Offspring

Ryvar (Khyber 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.
all i ever wanted was the world
Posted on April 6, 2025 at 01:59:44 AM by Vogue

♛

The tobiano watches the younger mare as she can while turning away to lead up the hill. While she had seen the glimpse of fear in the flaxen's eyes, Vogue did her best to ignore it. The mothering nature in her vied to learn the girl's problems and help to fix them. Yet, the experiences she'd learned from told her it would be smarter to leave it alone. For the moment, the tobiao decides to do the latter.

While they walk, she allows the sounds of wildlife to fill the quiet. Her dark-rimmed ears swivel at each bird call and rustling patch of grass. When the chestnut speaks again, she's asking about the boys romping ahead of them. Vogue's manner warms as she observes the colts with an attentive gaze. Black-painted Khorvaire is shoving Salvatore's golden shoulder now as they play tag.

'Are they all yours?' The answer to that one should have been no, and yet Vogue finds that she doesn't want to tell the real story. She nods instead of explaining that Salvatore is her grandson. It isn't a stranger's business that her daughter had been made a mother too young and had rejected the golden boy. He is hers to care for; in this much regard, Salvatore is hers.

"Not six months yet, and they act like it," Vogue admits with a chuckle, warming her tone. Watching them bandy about as they do makes the mare's heart ache. How long would they be able to play like this, unaware and unweighted by the world around them?

Both of them were sired by Lagoon men --if she guessed rightly as to the identity of the "gold paint" who was Salvatore's father. Inevitably, one bachelor or the other would come looking for the boys, and Vogue wasn't sure what she would do when that day came.

"Do you have any of your own, Firefox," Vogue asks, hoping to make conversation while turning away from any particulars about the boys.



VOGUE


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