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| Welcome wanderer! You seem to have stumbled across Kormada, a wild horse roleplay approaching its ten year anniversary on the net. We are a very friendly and very active community of players of all ages and experience levels. So take a look around, join us, and experience the chaos of life on a planet cheating death with every day of continued existence. Join Kormada and enter the realm! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| if it can't make you cry, make you mad, or get you high, it's just a waste of time;; evangelik & anael | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 25 2013, 12:15 AM (328 Views) | |
| madie | Oct 25 2013, 12:15 AM Post #1 |
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Icarus: had he not been made up of candle wax and bone, perhaps he would have been birthed from sea foam and ocean salt. The ocean tide still seems to push and pull against his legs even as he steps from their grasp and onto the shoreline. Sea water clings to him, reluctant to trail down his coarse winter coat and back into the ocean from whence it came, just as Icarus is reluctant to leave. Winter’s breath greets him all too soon. Like hoarfrost devouring the morning grasses, the moisture from his breath clings to and freezes against his whiskers. He turns to ensure his lady, Evangelik, has no trouble pulling herself from the sea. “Not much further, my lady.” He assures her. Their journey had been long from Dreamscapes to the Offland, but he is eager to return home. He has worried for Anael’s safety, as he had worried for Evangelik. He breaks into a brisk, ground swallowing trot. Soon the seawater is mingled with his own sweat, and his flesh grows numb to the cold. He calls out, long and low as the Tower begin to peek from between the trees that guard his home. He slows, mostly because the trees are thick, but also because his eyes are searching desperately for Anael. He comes to a halt alongside the dilapidated towers, his breath rising rhythmically to mar his line of sight. |
![]() antimony . balor . chaul . desdemona . eidothea . malady . opium . rowtag . ryse . scorn . sköll | |
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| Magnanimous | Nov 2 2013, 02:40 PM Post #2 |
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ANAEL; She doesn't mind being alone. Most days, Anael prefers the silence; the oppressive lack of sound that comes with the winter snow, the still, eerie calm that encompasses the land when all of the creatures have gone to ground, a blanket of white that settles upon the land. She likes the peace, the solitude, and so she wasn't upset when she came to the Weeping Towers and found it empty. It's an easy adjustment to life here, even if Ana is wary of the towering spires of rock above her. They feel--all encompassing and wrong; they feel like a prison, keeping her trapped here, on the ground, a pinned butterfly. It's with these thoughts hovering in her mind that Ana as wandered to the far edge of the territory, tucked underneath the tall, protective trees; it's different, even if she's still hemmed in. The trees, they live, but in a different way. They can be killed, they can fall and wither and die. Stones that seem to strive for the heavens cannot. The trees obscure the view, make her feel less...watched, studied--less of a specimen. Ana can breathe here, hidden safe among the pines. She's half-asleep when she hears the call and the accompanying sounds of movement. She tenses for a long moment, before recognizing that it is, indeed Icarus' voice, and not someone come to steal her away from the tranquility of this place, to rip her away from the only comfort she has. Reassured it's no other than her quiet claimer, Ana moves towards where Icarus is. It doesn't take long to reach him, and her skin itches because of where they are but she won't say anything; can't say anything. SO instead she smiles and murmurs, "Hello, Icarus. It's good to see you again." |
![]() we are not things; those were her words! salome | ishtar | piper| riesling | rani | anael | iscaie | silas | faolan | sven | nyss| | |
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| Bibliobibuli | Nov 4 2013, 02:24 AM Post #3 |
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She remained close, unwilling to allow much of a distance to form between her and the inky stallion. She had waited too long back in Dreamscape for her knight in shining armor to arrive to allow him to just go missing yet again; besides she hadn’t made the journey to Weeping Towers before, and with the strange and surreal threats that came with becoming of age, Eva was not keen on the idea of being alone anywhere. Inwardly, Eva wondered if Icarus was a normal stallion, with normal such desires that follows being a stallion. Though the Lusitano mare had been learning that there is nothing blatantly normal about Icarus, and perhaps he wouldn’t have been the stallion that her parents would have picked for her, but he was the first decision she made in her adult life. And because he was her decision, he had her loyalty. His quirks would enlighten her of what years of adulthood does to an equine, plus she wasn’t sure how to admit it; being around the stallion gave her a rush of excitement. Snow white mane laid divided along her extensive neck, the salty seawater manipulating them into loosely bound ringlets. Suddenly she felt her hooves knock ground, and Evangelik knew they were finally upon Weeping Towers. Wet alabaster form appeared more glossy than usual as the droplets of water slicked from her coat. His voice consumes her attention over the roar of the sea and unfamiliar sights. She smiles softly at her stallion, with tantalizing grace a nod was given. He turned, she watched. He ran, she followed. As the surrounding of her new home blurred by it became obvious the target of their pursuit, the towers the land was named after. They slowed, Eva closed much of what distance that did accumulate. She stood in silence, taking in the change earnestly. She didn’t have time however to be lost in wonder, the sound of approaching steps commanded her attention. It was a mare, and her focus did not waiver from Icarus as she drew closer. She greeted him, and Eva was curious if it was normal to overlook other mares of a herd, herdmates. ”Hello.” Her voice peeps from within her normally stoic figure. She was raised around manners, and Icarus also exhibited habitable manners. She was unsure if the stranger was unaware, or ignoring her. Deciding she was likely overthinking it, her sweet tone was omitted once more. ”You may call me Eva, which is short for Evangelik. Whichever you care for.” A front hoof dug into the ground pointedly, not wanting to slip into the shadows of the conversation when she at such a critical point in her life. |
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3:38 AM Jul 11