Fimbulvetr

Ren

Character OTS

OTS 1
OTS 2

Björn & Lirr

Couple OTS


Private the book of the stranger.

#1
drown all dreams
so mercilessly.
The longing that riddled the visage of the woman was enough to make anyone yearn for anything - deep sea hued optics beamed at the views upon the other side of the ravine. This was a place that Calypso found herself often as of late; near the edge of her side of the deep, dangerous ravine. What was before her, was all that stood in her way of becoming part of over there. Well, that and a certain behemoth figure known as Evandr. He too, was a reason why she remained where she was. There was only one person in her life that she would never cross and that man was Evandr. She had watched him from when they were younger, he was a force to be reckoned with; while she'd never admit her fear of him, more she fearfully respected him. They had both been through some tough and trying times, but his victory against Saren had done so much for the residents of the Wastelands. The women no longer feared of being taken advantage of, the men didn't have to fear for their lives.

A dry, what otherwise would of been cool but because of her location, hot breeze swept through, disturbing her deep train of thoughts. She spent most of her time dreaming of being on the other side, she'd often forget just how much time goes by. Sometimes Evandr is the one to find her, while out doing his rounds - or someone else. Sometimes she just ends up staying there until her body tells her it was time to go back to the Oasis. Which wasn't often. When she wasn't here, she was often near the shores, wherever she could access them. The Wastelands were harsh territory, everything made it difficult to travel anywhere. That was why most of them remained in the Oasis, not to even see outside life again. Calypso couldn't stand to do that, she didn't understand how any of them could. Sure, it was safe. It was key to their survival, but remaining in one place day in and day out. The sea maiden shook her head of the thought, her nares widened with a snort in disgust.

Lids closed for a moment before reopening, her cerulean optics continued to stare out to the mountains, the green fields, she could see what she thought may be the Slidr Lake. She always tried to piece together where everything was by the stories the other Exiles told her. Being born to the Wastelands, she had never experienced the 'outside' world. She knew nothing but the scorching sands of Vetr Wastelands. She had found herself laying within a foot of the edge, her navy hued limbs folded neatly under her. Elegant water-like tail wrapped around her right side, lengthy mane hung nearly touching the soil. "These scars long have yearned for your tender caress..." Melodic sound flowed from her inky lips, she had took to singing to herself. She was her own company, after all. "To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own. Rend my heart open, then your love profess.." At the last bit, she faked gagged; love An eyeroll was given. It had been a song her mother had once upon sung to her many times as a filly, in attempts to get her fast asleep.

"What a damn joke." She scoffed.
and leave their souls to me.
Tag: @[Calypso]

Rost Offline

Fjalltindr Commoner

  • Gender: Stallion
  • Age & Season: 11 Winter ❅
  • Height: 17hh
  • Arcana: Ore Caster
  • Level: Apprentice
  • Lineage: Local
  • Species: Equine
  • Posts: 17
  • Crystals: 25
  • Played By: Soupi

#2

Rost
far horizons, a winter's tale


The East. A dry and decrepit place that sucked the very moisture of the otherwise damp Valley dry. Scaling the jagged crag up from the Redwood's Last stand to the Hoettr Staircase had always been a perilous journey, one avoided by all who were not being condemned to the sands beyond the great ravine. It was feared, dangerous, and not quite the place a loner wanted to find themselves on an early evening day. But despite the travesties and the dark history painted around this place, it was rich with mineral. And who better to exploit this untapped resource than a blacksmith? For years the Dwalin family had made treks to the scorched, terra-cotta plateaus and their staircase for the chance to bolster their resources. While Frior and Laurel had always served them well, generations had depleted the easier to access veins, forcing the smithies either deeper into the hallowed halls of the mountains or elsewhere. For whatever reason, Rost felt it better to select the latter option.

An Ambrosius raven had sought him out for a commission and deigned himself a suit of armor. With such a fragile and lithe frame, especially around the forelimbs, Rost was concerned that the typical steel and iron would be far too heavy and cumbersome for extremities so dextrous. With every dusty, shod step up the natural, steep path winding through the sun kissed range the Ironforger contemplated various combinations to best suit the fellow. A leather base wit' silver would make fer light weight bracers tha' would keep at least claws, blades, an' talons at bay... wouldn't help with' crushin blows. But silver alone is too weak, and ta back it with steel would defeat the purpose..." A broom of sooty threads flicked at his hinds. Despite the autumnal touch, still early, the closer one drew into the Eastern realm, and the closer one drew to the Wastelands, the air dried and sucked the very Valley chill from the air. He'd elected only for his leather strappings today, foregoing the protective armor components back at the forge. It would help keep his burly hide cool, breathable, and open to the hot, dry breezes that did swell along the ravine. Plus, it helped him hook satchels and bags onto them, which he'd collect his targeted commodities in.

With labored breath Rost pulled himself up upon the crest of the Eastern Incline. Light winds whistled along the ravine edge, blowing back what mane the man did possess; it cooled the beads of sweat that pearled along his forehead and chest. He stole a moment to look back, breath adjusting to the altitude, to just witness the sheer breadth of the Valley. There was a blinding wink of the Slidr Lake through the sea of green, orange, and yellow. Cloud coverage, both from their height and the distance, consumed the purple and blue mountains that domed and enclosed their plot of heaven from the glittering oceans beyond. He lingered long enough to catch his breath and feel a swelling pride in his chest, but knew he had to keep moving if he ever wanted to get the job done in the quoted time. With another slap from his broomstick tail the hefty brute pricked his feet along the stone again. He didn't want to be here any longer than he had too.... wasn't natural, for an innocent Valley dweller to be this close to the forsaken miles of Vetr. Made the skin along his dorsal crawl.

Slowly he maneuvered along the ridge. The roar of the rapid below was a dull hum through the winds and the depth, but he knew he'd have to get closer if he were to find what he wanted. While some veins were fortunate enough to stretch along the top of the canyon others were not. And, heh... Dwalins had been in the Valley for centuries. The easier veins, as previously said, were always depleted. When he first heard the melodic voice of song he thought perhaps the heat had gotten to him and fried a bit of his brain. But, upon closer inspection, it wasn't some disembodied voice. Iron eyes squinted into the harsh sunlight, surveying his side of the ravine for some other dolt foolish enough to climb up here. But that's when he realized he'd never find the source, not unless he cast his gaze across the ravine. Jolted to a halt, all Rost could do was stare. He'd never properly seen an Exile. The Dwalins lived far enough away that they weren't typically a thought unless cursed when too much wine had been had. And whenever he had made this trip, the sands had always been vacant and lonely. But now, some sort of oceanic femme sat placidly along the ravine edge as if this were some garden party. He continued to just stare, his brow pinched with distrust and his hide rigid. Could he slink away unseen? Or would the castaway try and sing a siren song to free herself from bondage?


W C: 838
T A G: Calypso
M U S E: 4/5
O O C: merp sorry for the wait

powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.

Tag: @[Rost]