Fimbulvetr

Poppy

Character OTS

OTS 1
OTS 2

Aishe & Evandr

Couple OTS


Open Under the Willow

#1
Fleur

"You were my whole damn sky"

The wind whipped across a face soft and kind behind the bold mint and cerulean colors found there. Salt-stained her cheeks in long streaks of dried emotion, speaking of a story hidden beneath her skin. There were no scars, cuts or bruises that spoke of what had brought the tears to come and go so that they stained her cheeks in such a way. No, the green flecked mare hid her troubles within the depths of her heart. Her story could have been so different, it could have been so full and bright. But it was just the tale of a broken heart with a thousand what-ifs scattered at her black hooves-- never to be answered, only trodden upon.  Her face hid the depth of her pain, as she looked out into the city, out into her new start, for there was no going back and she had to believe that this new land helped her purpose.


The ship slowly pulled to the dock and Fleur found herself reflecting on all that brought her to this moment. Finding Kjartan, and realizing she still loved him, only to hear his hateful words and fire back in her own hast to hide the sting of their damnation. Eventually fleeing to find relief from the cycle of hurt they kept putting the other through. Until she found herself alone on an island deserted from all but basic necessities. There she allowed herself to mourn. Day and night passed in simplicity. Sadness came in waves for all that could have been but wasn’t-- for a love found, realized and but ultimately lost. The sadness lessened as the months passed, and was slowly replaced by the weight of loneliness. Until one day when she lay upon the beach, alone with her thoughts and the endless sound of the waves, and a fog rolled in against the wind. Unnatural and blinding, the fog swirled about her colored features, choking her lungs with its thickness. Instinct screamed fear into her mind and she shot up from the warm sands, plunged into hazy darkness.


Tentatively she walked forward, the sand gave under her hooves and she felt the wet granules scraping against each other as she stepped. Step after step Fleur moved forward until the sand changed to a softer soil. The tickle of grass against her fetlocks was a little unsettling and she faltered for just a moment.  At that moment the fog settled slightly, and a field of tall grasses came into view. She can’t see much, no matter how she strains. But a tall tree rises in the distance, and she used it to guide her forward...whatever was before her she knew something for certain--she was somewhere very different from where she started.

template by soupi
Tag: @[Fleur]

#2

Whatever weaver of fate there was, it always seemed to draw the eldritch stallion to the Bifrost. More alarmingly so, he wasn't always sure how he'd gotten there let alone why he'd come. Taking another moment outside of the behemoth timber, bright cerulean and aqua eyes scanning the branches lost to the clouds above, Tywin considered that maybe there was no avoiding the tree at all. Perhaps there was some parts benevolent and malevolent magic that just brought you here against your own free will. Hadn't that been the case upon the other side? When he'd managed to stumble upon it? Icy nostrils flared as his mind's eye scrolled through memories of the past; of frail, navy frames and torrential rains. It had been spring time when they had crossed the Bifrost together so it seemed only fitting for some semblance of closure on his first rotation here that he would return.

Unafraid of the strange and ancient arcanum within the depths of the root labyrinth, slate daggers struck along the natural bridges that carried him cross to the gaping entrances twixt the gnarled, knobbed tree. Not a man to abandon his post, the Jarl of Arrhule concluded that he surely couldn't leave without some investigations first. Why, every other time he'd come here there had been lonely, lost vagabonds aimlessly wandering the tunnels without sense or clue where to go. If he hadn't of shown up, he wondered if they would have made it out at all or if they'd have fertilized whatever mythic spirit resided in this massive gateway. Coincidentally along his path discarded  bones lay curled and forgotten in a small alcove, the sprawling legs just so in the path that he had to take great care to stop over them.

But the unique forest and maze beneath this tree proved otherwise eventless. He weaved through the tunnels and grand, open corridors until finally it seemed all paths drew back in upon one another. With the concept of time just that, a concept, while plunged in the eternal darkness of the Bifrost's inner sanctum, Tywin found himself piqued when a dull sliver of sunlight filtered through some sort of opening in the distance. An exit, perhaps? Baroque appendages continued to traipse across the compact sod floor as if commanding the very ground beneath him. There was a height to his carriage that exuded a level of self confidence and dependability in his own character. It spoke not of fear, nor cowardice. Rather, it sang silent hymns of a self preservation unlike any other with a haunted sophistication and reverence. Quite comically, as much as Tywin found the Bifrost both intriguing and distasteful, the muddied hide upon his skin with the soft motes of cyan and seafoam fit the aesthetic of the tree.

Closer the light came, his obsidian harks sweeping forward with another rise of his visage. The sweet scent of supple grass wafted in on the gentle breezes that flowed through the tunnels, confirming his former suspicions. An exit. Or perhaps entrance? Further still he pricked gracefully through the dark, until finally his form met the warm halo of blinding light that fell into the path. Squinting into the sunlight, Tywin stood a moment at the entrance, curious if this was some sort of favor given on the Bifrost's part. "You've done so well, here's a consolation prize." A small, curt snort erupted from his glacier nares. As if. But he tried regardless, his own morbid fascination with knowledge and studies pushing him to test his boundaries. And wouldn't you know it, despite the clearly open path before him, a force held him back. A weight pushed back on him, refusing him passage back into the sweeping fields that housed the great tree. Satisfied, he stood, lids half-hooded as he squinted up into the light. He supposed it was just fine. What jarl would he be if he were to get trapped outside of the Valley? What kind of man would he be to unknowingly abandon his people? Arete? Another curt snort. He would never be that man.

Walking "Talking"

W C: 682
T A G: Fleur
M U S E: 3/5
O O C: rambly but i hope this works!
Image: magtox
Table and Coding: Raven
powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Tywin]

#3
Fleur

"You were my whole damn sky"

Never settled, never sure, she stood on the precipice of the unknown, lingering in the doorway of a new world, or just a new beginning. Her honey eyes looked through the fog, seeing nothing but the tree rising above. Behind her the wind whipped  and pushed against her teal and green rump, urging her on, but her heart faltered, holding on to the last thread of belief he would show up last minute. But it was a child’s dream a fantasy that wasn’t meant to be lived outside of her dreams, and so she let the wind move her, and she slipped through the fog, into the hazy milky white, until it was all she saw, all she felt. Carefully black hooves pick through it, with no sound to guide her,  it was all encompassing. She swallowed trying to force the moisture from her lungs to feel the ease of breath she had prior to entering this unknown space, but it was useless, the fog even snuffed out the air.

Fleur, quiet and unsure (always unsure), stopped. Her ears flicked forward then back, wishing, straining for a sound any sign that there was a way out, as the light slowly began to fade and night closed in.  Her slim frame closed in on itself and she tucked her blue feathered wings in tighter to her body. And while she was unsure of everything she had gotten herself into, she continued forward. Time was tricky here, her anxiety made each second feel twice as long, so she wasn’t sure if it had a few minutes or a half hour or so but she was ready to be out of the dense fog that grew blacker by the second. Then, as if the cosmos knew she needed a sign to continue to not curl up in defeat, a sound like wind whistling but cut short sounded. Muted and in the distance, distorted, but Fleur’s earshot to the sound causing her heart to fire in rapid succession. Friend or Foe? Harmful or Harmless? But she surges to it just the same--better harm than another moment lost in the earthbound cloud. Her voice didn’t have the same inner courage her feet did, and she called out like the broken girl she was, ”Hello? Is there anyone out there?”

She halted to listen, and again the sound rang out clearer, closer. It wasn’t the wind, it was a cough or a snort. Low and equine… it wasn’t a beast… at least not a beast in the wild creature sense. Her relief flooded her nervous system and she raced forward again her hooves flying beneath her two-toned body, forgetting the potential of the evil in the world. Fleur ran for a full minute her momentum building and her heart never slowing, pumping blood faster and faster through her veins. Until all too suddenly the fog ended in a blink of an eye and she felt the force of what felt like running into a tree. Her body heaved and she cried out a sound the combination of pain, surprise, and fear as her body was knocked off kilter and came crashing to the ground knocking the wind out of her lungs. The slender mare’s head throb and her left shoulder ached from taking the brunt of the force. She laid on the ground gasping for air, but unable to make her lungs pull the air in and panic filled her honey eyes as they darted about to find the source of her injury. She didn’t see anything… anyone. As she sat up frantically, her lungs finally unhitched and air rushed into her lungs, giving her a sense of relief that allowed her to relax a touch.  In doing so, she finally slowed down enough to notice the stallion on the ground. It was hard to tell in the dusk and the fuzziness still in her mind but he seemed to be breathing.

Shakily she rose, testing herself as she did and while she was sore, there was no major injury, to her even greater relief. She would be sore for some days to come, and there would be some scratches she would have to watch for infection-- but she would be ok. Her focus returned to the stallion and she tentatively moved forward. ”Hey, mister, um...are you ok?” She stopped short-- far enough away that he could reach her physically, and reached her nose out towards him smelling for blood, but was unable to discern anything. He hadn’t moved or responded right away so she took a moment to look around her. In the edges of dusk, this valley with the barren trees was hauntingly eerie. And one thing was sure-- this was not the open skies and towering pines of her old home. She looked back to the huddled mound of stallion on the ground and tried again to get him to respond, she moved closer. As she did she saw he wasn’t so much a dark color as a muddy hue, with almost luminescent blue streaking across his body as she did she saw his sides rise and fall as he breathed. She was a ball of nerves but seeing him breath brought some ease to her as she continued her inspection. Along his spine were spikes and she wondered if they were responsible for some of her cuts, but she saw no blood.  After her quick survey, she nudged his neck softly, braced to retreat. ”Mister. You gotta get up… you gotta be ok… And while her words were spoken allowed they were much more for herself than for him. She didn’t know what she would do if her she had seriously harmed him.

template by soupi

WC:963
Slow start, a little choppy, but more musy ending.
Tywin @Tywin
Tag: @[Fleur]

#4

There was only ever little advance for accidents. Tywin stood at the ready, hearing the desperate calling of a broken girl as she approached but still unable to procure her image through the blinding sunlight that filtered through the root-laden opening. Again his fore lifted, only for an invisible force to fight him, block his advances, and, if he believed in arcanic sentience, silently threatened him to continue. So step back he did, obsidian tail lashing with half-hearted vigor; he was agitated by the forces at work in this tree but was a smart enough stallion not to challenge something so great – both in power and size. Rather, he was in the throughs of drawing in breath to offer auditory aid for the lost stranger when she inevitably careened far too quickly through the gaping mouth of the labyrinth and collided into the Arrulan jarl.

And what force the small thing had. What air he had stolen from the atmos quickly returned, encouraged by the sheer force of their bodies folding together as his legs buckled and they tumbled backwards, literal hooves over heads, into the tunnel. It all was in clear, crisp clarity for the eldritch male. Slowly the halo of sunlight slipped into darkness as the ground beneath him fell away – not as literally as his last experience. Some part of her tore across the spines of his dorsal, but he hadn’t the time nor ability to turn back in assessment as his own visage ripped across the gnarled root wall.

White splotches burst along his vision and any semblance of orientation deteriorated. Time became unmeasurable as he, for a moment, slumped to the ground and cradled the side of his face into his chest, eyes clasped tightly and breath tightly drawn as stinging pain tore along the chiseled line of his jowl and eye. His ears rang, and the blurred world around him spun in mimics until finally they spiraled together into almost cohesive images. Cotton filled ears could hear the femme’s voice. But it was her investigative brush that grounded him, and the world slipped through a vacuum, narrowing, before flashing back together again with another blink of his sapphire eyes. Without word he snatched himself from the dirtied floor, banner lashing to free it of debris and his coating twitching away what flecks of dirt or root tried to remain.

Swiftly he turned to her, the small cut along his face an irritating mixture of sting and throb, but otherwise unharmed. She, however, seemed marginally worse off than he. She wore her own collection of cuts and abrasions and stank of adrenaline. His own nervous system debated releasing the flood gates, and while a minor crack broke and his heart thudded quicker in his chest in response, his almost unnatural control over his own emotions and body calmed himself. On the outside her remained stoic, but sharp visionaries assessed her with scrutiny. “I’m fine.” Tywin asserted after he had reoriented himself in reality. He spared one glance back towards the opening of the cave system she’d tumbled through – sharp shadows lined the once glowing halo as the roots plaited with one another, sealing them away in the darkness. Tywin had hoped that the Bifrost would remain dormant, that the danger - if that's what one wanted to call this event - was over, but this maze of shadows and illusions never seemed finished toying with any who entered. Back he turned to her, and without tarry forged into a brisk walk. “Come or stay, but I do not recommend the former,” He paused both his words and his step, turning his crown just enough to peer back at her with a cursory glance, but never did he stop, "but this place cannot be trusted."


Walking "Talking"

W C: 629
T A G: Fleur
M U S E: 3.5/5
O O C: whoopsie poopsie
Image: magtox
Table and Coding: Raven
powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Tywin]