Character OTS


Björn & Lirr

Couple OTS

it's just a flesh wound

we are the wild ones, the savages

Aishe had kept herself busy as always.

For the most part, the Oasis held no pleasant memories for the jenny. She did her best to keep far away from it, only returning when she needed water and food--then just like the night fades to day, she turns and leaves into the harsh wastes for days.

It had been some time since she'd seen another face, quietly patrolling the farthest border to keep her mind at ease. She'd be lying if the memory of Saren didn't haunt her when she shut her eyes.  His sneer was always there when she tried to sleep--by the gods how long had it been since his destruction? Aishe didn't know how to say thank you, not really. Though her heart thanked whatever being would hear for Evandr. If he had not come along, well, Aishe didn't dwell on it. Or, at least, she tried not to.

How ironic it was then, that a straggler loyalist had tried to claim her. It had happened so swiftly, Aishe had nary a moment to think. Her body had reacted as if on impulse, remembering the times she fought against the hordes before--and now the fool was left to rot in the hot sands of the surrounding deserts. Though she was no skilled warrior, Aishe had suffered wounds from the struggle.

Gods she hurt, her whole body was pulsating with pain in each rapid heart beat. Blood seeped between large cuts, the most prominent on her shoulder from a bite. No doubt the man had taken a chunk from her hide in a foolish attempt to drag her back into that hellish life. But now, she was safe, for the most part. Staggering with her jaw clenched a string of curses spilled from her wicked tongue. For a moment, she leans against the rough bark of a palm tree, exhaustion creeping in like poison. If she could just get to the water...

Tag: @[Aishe]



It was a gloomy day. Even in an oasis where the fronds of the palms and ferns were emeralds against the grits of sand an overcast day claimed the glowing asylum Frekr usually portrayed. When the skies were overcast like this there was a break in the heat. Brisk winds would usually follow. Accustom to the sweltering temperatures, even the smallest of these zephyrs sent a small chill along the Warden's spine. It had his amaranthine piebald coat standing on end as the thick skin beneath pimpled. A knit brow angled skyward, squinting into the steely atmosphere that seemed to embody his predecessor Saren's hide. Perhaps that was where the melancholy was born... even to Evandr the tyrant was a bitter memory. He couldn't fathom what it had been like for those who had been, at the time, unlucky to live within the Oasis. While he may have casted away and shunned the others to a harsh life in the sands, tragedy was not lost to the equine - mostly women - left behind in the ferns.

But the current Warden, a benevolent one he liked to claim, did not want to think of the past. Ghosts hid there that he wished not to be haunted by. So, to keep his mind from losing itself in the throes of old - such as the face of his dam, the trials of his rise to "power" - the behemoth of a man kept himself moving. Feathered hooves quivered beneath each of his strides, the thick and voluminous threads at his cornets shivering as each hidden obsidian dagger found purchase in the sand. Near-navy tassels at his nape knotted in the winds that swept through the palms, matte with a thin layer of grim that all exiles seemed to wear. Others milled about, but not unlike the sky in its monochromatic status the oasis too seemed too still. It put the Warden at unease. Stillness always equated danger for bored minds... and they were castaways, criminals, the ne'er-do-wells. What did those kind of people do when there was a lack of stimulation?

A scent rode the wind as it billowed through. Evandr's sapphire eyes widened at the metallic stench of blood in a false start, though he did not feel the full effect of surprise. Like I said... these were the exiles, after all. Immediately halting, his nostrils flared to test the air and decipher through the freshness of the wound who had been the target. Of course, it took little effort. Jolting forward, the monster of a stallion cantered through the trees with whatever speed he could master (for the sands and congested palms were realistically quite difficult for a male his size).

Following the trail inevitably brought him to a far border, one unfrequented simply due to the distance from the fresh waters of the oasis. There beneath the stone-clad sky and propped against one of those damned palms that couldn't enrapture safety but only radiated malaise a jenny rested. Evandr approached with a thick, graveled nicker that bubbled from his chest. His hooves only ceased their progress once he came abreast her, pink muzzle dipping down to her level with one of those bright azure orbs examining the bloodied chunk missing from her shoulder. His audits pinned, and he glanced out to the wastes. Whatever prints she may have left were nearly untraceable despite the short time due to the frequent wind, and with it the scents of the culprit.

"Aishe,", he growled as he turned back to her. Grains of sand spun and twitched in wide robust twisters encircling his hooves. It was that magic - that uncontrollable magic of his. Sometimes it flared with his flurries of emotion. "I assume I don't need to go after them?"

WC: 629
Tag: Aishe
OOC: <3
powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]

we are the wild ones, the savages

Biting the inside of her mouth, Aishe manages to push herself just a bit further.

Yet, as she moves to the next stub of a tree her long ears pick up the sound of muffled-by-sand hoof beats. She doesn't need to really look, if she were honest his gaits were damn near impossible to ignore. From what she had seen, there was very few his size in the wastes. Probably for the best, if there were huge titans lurking the food would be sparser than usual.

And then his voice rings in their silence, her own vibrant gaze eclipsed in a glare as her teeth grit together nauseatingly vibrating her skull. She coughs out a laugh at his comment, "Nope" Aishe winces, trying her best to hide what pain she could. There was part of her that despised being weak--and she knew the others likely thought her so. What good was the smallest of them? She was seen as easy prey from the moment she could walk.

"He's deader than dead, lord Warden" she hisses again in a chortle. Aishe looks at the wound as best she could, almost rolling her eyes at how dumb she'd been. Yes, of course! Let the guy bite you in the shoulder! What could go wrong?

Images of his body smashing against rocks flashes in the back of her mind, not unlike the very assailant who had chased her to the borders after Evandr's take over. "Could you perhaps help me stop bleeding? I would hate to die here of all places."

Her mouth was parched, Aishe was sure most of her coughing came from the lack of water. Her tongue was sandpaper in her mouth and against her teeth. It was miserable here, this was worse than the stories of hell her mother had told her. May the old jenny rest in peace.

A pang rang in her chest at the thought and Aishe had to choke it down with a noise in the back of her throat. Death wasn't something new here, not in the wastes. But every time she thought of death her mother's demise always had to rear its head. Saren's laughter would forever haunt her, and the worst part about it was Aishe never got to recover her mother's corpse. What the girl would have done with her mother wasn't the point, but something about leaving a loved on to rot in the heat never set well with her.

Her expression changed from playfully irritated to plain angry. And then, Aishe pushed from the tree and began to walk again. It was this fire that brought her to survive, after all this time.

Tag: @[Aishe]



Evandr couldn't regularly say that he admired his peers. Aishe was one of the exceptions. Her tenacity and resilience in the face of the Wastes' ruthlessness coupled with her survival of Saren's rule alone proved her strength. While others may overlook it, for the ecru jenny was only a fraction of his size, Evandr knew that of all others she was one to watch.

Hell, it was affirmed by her answer. Deader than dead. A snort burst through his nostrils, his sapphire eyes snapping back to the shifting sands as the winds continued to sweep over them. By tomorrow, the dunes would be entirely different; banks would crest where there may have been troughs and dunes would shrink to half their size depending on their length of exposure.

Her quip at his title doesn't go unnoticed. Minutely his visage tilts back towards her, audits lingering back towards the thick brambles of his mane, but not necessarily in ire. There is a soft edge to the beetle in his brow. Aishe was sharp. She had to be. With another snort, this one long and drawn as it billowed through his peach, velveteen muscle, he pivots on the thick timbers of his hinds. He's prepared to help her, but whatever had transpired within her in the time it'd taken him to turn around, she'd elected to continue forward. Evandr remains still a moment, watching beneath a curtain of obsidian forelock as she pushes herself. Next his orbs drop to the blots of blood staining the scorched sands.

"We have no healers," he calls after her, his one stride consuming her every two, or three. "We'll either have to cauterize it or apply pressure until it relents." He's caught up to her now, unwilling to demand her halt. If she wants to push herself to bleed out, he'll allow it. While it'd bring him no joy, and quite the regret, he wouldn't force her to do anything. His shadow consumes her, almost hiding the dark stain upon her shoulder that's saturated with blood. "Choice is yours," he comments, and it'd be all too rude for him to have a bit of a lit to his voice (though it could be there), "We'll either get you to one of the magma pools outside the Oasis or we'll apply constant pressure until it decides it's finished." A snort born from comedy bursts from his nostrils, causing his head to bob. "We can always do both."

Tag: Aishe
WC: 410
Muse: 2/5 whoops
OOC: idk this is terrible

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]

we are the wild ones, the savages

He was right, though she didn't like to admit it. To keep going on like this would mean certain death. Another grimace spread over her face, long ears damn near plastered to her neck. Her own blood felt hotter than the sands that shifted beneath her petite feet.

"Cauterize" she hisses out after a moment of thought, looking up only as his shadow envelops her entirely. Perhaps it was the heat, or the loss of blood, or both; but the jenny felt faint. She shakes her head to clear the splotches from her vision. Before her mind registered what was happening, her body pressed into his for the briefest of moments. Aishe took a breath and pushed from Evandr to keep herself from passing out completely.

Though she chuckled when her legs wobbled still, body shaking. Her voice was soft in her reply;"We should probably stop meeting under such zany circumstances" She winced again with yet another hiss of air between her teeth. "Y'know, I could use one hell of a drink--too bad the Oasis doesn't have something stronger than water."

As if they couldn't hold her up any longer, Aishe's body hit the sand as her legs gave out. It burned as it kicked up dust to stick in her wound, a huff of air rushing from her nose formed little sand clouds in front of her head. A groan escaped her clenched teeth, eyes shut tight in mild embarrassment and pain. "Ugh."

Evandr I don't even know, ignore her derpyness
Tag: @[Aishe]



"Cauterize." Evandr would have lied to say he was surprised, but the lack there of did not hinder the beetle in his brow. Of course it was the immediate fix for the wound. Burn the flesh, seal whatever items lay open for the filth of the world and close those that had already infiltrated within. But it was also the option at the furthest distance. While he wouldn't deny her the choice, his sapphire orbs studied the cadence of her gait and how she shook her visage; not of flies or gnats, but of an unseen ailment. Evandr was no fool. He'd spent years in the sands with his handicapped mother, and years still escorting those the Houses damned. He knew when someone was feeling faint.

"A-", he hardly had her name off his tongue when she stumbled into him. Without falter he had stopped, offering a stiff, reliable support for the petite jenny, but she failed to accept the help. Resilient, like he thought her to be, she shoved off with a stumble and chuckle. Whatever hilarity she found in her situation Evandr did not share. Rather the pinch betwixt his lapis lazuli visionaries darkened and he made no advancement after her. There was no denying it. Aishe simply wasn't in a state to travel to the pools outside the Oasis, no matter how fool-hardy she may be. "I would hope so," he agreed, albeit half-heartedly. His focus was still her gait, the way her hooves tripped over themselves.

Finally, the inevitable.

One couldn't say there was no warning to Aishe's collapse. Evandr had spotted it coming from a distance, but she wasn't the kind to accept offered help. Rather, one had to assert help. And it was time that Evandr thought it necessary to exert his authority as Warden. Not that she seemed to protest the fall. Crumpled like that on the ground, she could have curled into the crook of his neck and fell beneath his image, lost to any onlookers. Half his size, the voluminous feathering of his hooves rivaled her breadth. Beside her he walked, before buckling his knees and laying besides her, saying "Perhaps a different tactic."

Leaning forward, his chin pulled her - so very light, it sent a pulsation of goose pimples down his spine - into the coil of his neck until he'd managed to prop her against his front legs. She was hot, a symptom of the injury, and it fogged the conclusion of an infection. They wouldn't know until the sun fell and the temperatures plummeted. If it was hot then? Other remedies would need immediate action. A strange pin, he laid the side of his head against her shoulder and offered little warning - "Don't fight me," - and pressed into the wound. Perhaps another would have lapped away the sand, but for now it aided the bleeding and he left it. Already he felt it dampening the thin alabaster pelt on his visage, and instinctively his eye clasped tighter to protect itself from the foreign body.

Constant pressure would stop the bleed, and so he applied it, careful enough to not crush her (it wouldn't have been difficult) but with enough power she couldn't struggle away either, lest she wished to bleed out and die.

But Evandr wouldn't allow it.

He fell silent, waiting for the lashings, or waiting for the hisses of pain (he knew the grind of sand in fresh wounds was an affront, but there was nothing to be done now). After a moment his nostrils released the smallest of snorts, another betray of some delayed hilarity. "If we had drinks stronger than water it wouldn't be exile, it'd be holiday."

Tag: Aishe
WC: 617
Muse: 5/5 whoops
OOC: Permission to power play granted by N A K I

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]

we are the wild ones, the savages

Aishe had felt the touch of men before, and never had been with such--ah, what was the word? Tenderness wasn't quite what she was looking for.  As Evandr pulled her close, as he applied pressure to her wound he would no doubt feel the sudden restraint ingrained in Aishe's very person. Muscles pulled taught under her creme-brown hide told bits of a story that never left her lips. For anyone who lived to see the reign of Saren knew what kind of man he'd been--knew what kind of Warden he'd been.

She shuddered and then cursed under her breath at the world and at the grit of sand in open flesh.

His voice rumbled in her ears--still pinned to her head--and Aishe took a sliver of comfort in the way it seemed to reverberate from within. Something deep within calmed, but it wasn't enough to ease her into relaxing in the presence of a stallion that could crush her with one swing of his mighty hoof. "
Her voice comes out between gritted teeth and a clenched jaw as Evandr does what he can to stop her from bleeding out.

When he laughs at her half-hearted joke concerning spirits, Aishe cant help but emit a chuckle followed by a third string of curses in her mother's tongue at the pain caused by the slightest movement. In fact, it hurt to breath let alone speak. Aishe was the definition of resilient.

"Provided I last the night," She began with a shudder that ran through her body. Heat radiated from her shoulder, the sweat on her hide glistening in the sun to give her bi-colored pelt uncommon sheen. "We should raid the lowland lord's larders--just swoop in and take all their ale." she hissed in a dry chortle, almost daring to lean against the Warden and shut her eyes--how tiredness crept in so swiftly was a mystery to her in these moments. But Aishe felt as if she'd been struck with a rock, or at least tied down with many. The curly hair at the end of her leonine tail swished the sand absentmindedly."Just imagine the look on their faces."

Evandr I honestly don't know?? Theyre too cute and it hurts?? SMol and Tall??
Tag: @[Aishe]



The immediate taught that pulled not only her skin tight, but also wound her muscles into coils of boulders, sang lamented arias of times long past. His brow pinched with curiosity, but ultimately knew that an individual's past wasn't always his business. He knew she'd been here before his usurp of Saren. She'd lived that hell, just as they all had. But it had been harder for those at the Oasis. His mother's exile and their travels across the stretches of ebbing and flowing dunes may not hold a flame to some of the atrocities the twisted Warden may have inflicted. He let it be, willing that the tension release - it'd only increase her level of pain and encourage further bleeding.

Her meloncholic attitude brought a small tuft of a snort from the Warden's lips, but he said nothing. He was beginning to wonder that of all the exiles she may have been the strongest. Sure, he had taken down the tyrannical grey stallion that had waged havoc on their own semblance of asylum for years, but every day Aishe was proving to him that if she had taken the chance - perhaps if she had the element of surprise - she could have easily done the job as well. No one who could survive through the unspoken crimes against her flesh (that she did not speak of but he was beginning to deduce) as well as the constant fight between the ne'er-do-wells to the extent of Aishe. In this moment he supposed he admired her. A plum audit flicked with the thought, shooing a buzzing insect that wanted to burrow within it and drink his blood. Yes... he did admire her.

His gaze shifted down to her as she curled up into him, though there was no advantage to the adjustment of his vision save the the curl of her knees. He drew a large inhale, releasing it slowly, rotating through this meditative breath. When his mother had still lived and her fits had grown terrible and her body to weak to support them, sometimes simply laying there besides her with quiet, deep breathing calmed her enough to sleep. She had needed it, and so did this jenny. "It would be quiet the adventure." he answered absently, his vocals drawn low. His gaze flicked towards the ferns, the sunlight that gleamed betwixt their edges, and the bright sky blanketing them from above. Exile wasn't difficult now, not in the Wastes. Not as long as Evandr maintained his benevolent rule. He'd make sure of it.

His gaze flicked back to his brown and creme shoulder, where sweat and blood gave her an oilslick sheen, and he let out a strangled sigh. "You should sleep."

Tag: Aishe
WC: 454
Muse: 5/5

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]