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 Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2025 11:51 am
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2025 11:53 am
January Prompt It's a new year in the Kawani lands! Winter is in full swing and much of the land is covered in snow. Does your soquili do anything to acknowledge or celebrate the new year? Are they part of a herd or family that has a tradition or ceremony? Have they made a promise to start the new year with a clean slate and change themselves for the better? Or did they simply try to stay warm and wait for the snow to melt and spring to arrive? Write an RP responding to the above prompt. Your soquili should acknowledge the fact that it is a New Year - how they react to that is up to you.  Quote: There is something to be said for the season in which the earth sleeps.
The season of dying and harvest is, familiar. It is the first season in which they stepped into the world, as he remembers it. Even before they had names they had a sense of the world, that it was their destiny to be strong or be dead and there was only a short time to decide and make good on the promise of their blood. The world outside of their baskets had been beckoning, the dying days of summer sliding into the crackle of autumn.
That is when they had emerged, shedding bindings like the trees were shedding their leaves... spilling deep red blood on the pale gold of dry grass. They were hunters even then, so spoiled fodder meant nothing to them. They needed prey, not plant life, to make it through the coming days. They needed to kill each other, to ensure they had the chance.
Some attempts had gone better than others.
Death's Door rages against the fact that he is the Second to emerge, bearing scars from the First, contributing to the blood on the ground. The only way to correct this flaw in the universe is to kill the First, to become the Only.
He has followed the First -his blood sworn enemy, the one they call Harm- for all of his days. At times they meet and clash and break apart injured only to meet again. At times they draw apart until it seems they will never meet again, but that is not a reality to tolerate for the rest of their lives. One day Death must find him, must kill him, there are no other goals than this.
Day after day, season after season, it remains the same. Stalk. Hunt. Fight. Separate. No true dying, not yet. It is Spring again, when young from all walks of life are easily hunted. Then Summer when the South is nearly too warm to tolerate and it is more pleasant to move North to the shadows of the Mountains. Creeping in again is Autumn. Autumn which was their first season, marked by the harvest and the death of the greenery that surrounded them... The easiest season for Harm to blend in during, the most troublesome perhaps for Death. Then again is Winter, when all the greenery has gone to sleep, the trees are mere skeletal shadows of themselves, and the Mountains loom more impressive than ever. A silent world of white, thick snow and ice crystals on every surface, water gone solid, shadows blue where they cling in the wake of forests.
This Autumn saw a change when Death stepped back first, no longer interested in the relentless pursuit that would carry through snow and ice and long months with little prey to feast on. This Autumn he retreated back to the deep den in the foothills, to the cave within rock that would keep out the worst of the elements. He fed well on deer and the fat fish that had been stranded when the summer rains ended and the waters settled into their resting depths. So many shallow pools that had once been part of the river held easy pickings for him.
Death gorged and then retreated to the den to sleep, to move hardly at all for the harsh stretch of winter. He could hunt again in Spring, in the new year. This year, this year he would catch and kill the First... But for the Winter he would sleep.
***
Ice crystals crack outside of the den mouth, falling to the ground to shatter. Death flicks a blue black ear at the sound, absorbing it, cataloguing the change from the way the wind had roared and howled during the harshest of the days. Now it almost seems peaceful, not biting at the warmth of this deep place so much as whispering of a changing season. So then, the new year is here, and with it a new Spring.
Death's Door lifts his head from where it is tucked down into his paws, stirring in his bed of leaf litter and dried moss, gouged and cut by his claws or ground into scraps beneath his weight. He slowly rises to his paws and shakes, freeing much of the trapped flora from the fibers of his coat so he can pad toward the cave mouth and peer out into the weak sunlight. The last dregs of winter, but an incoming spring. Good. This year would be different. This year he would become the Only survivor of his siblings, would live up to his name once he destroyed the pale one that called himself the Spirit Bear, his brother.
"Soon, it is you who will be in Harm's Way." He mutters as he steps into the weak sunshine, keeping to his bear form for now.
Once he has found a fresh meal, perhaps something young stepping out into a new world for the first time, he will expend the energy to shift. Ground cover will be more efficient in the shape of a stallion, swifter to the hunt and swifter to the kill. The process of becoming the Only. But the bear is best first for finding a meal, for holding off the chill of the snow he can still see around him. There is no reason to approach this new year, this new hunt, with hastiness... Strategy will have to play a bigger part, this time.
Death's Door snarls at the memories, growling his discontent to the frosted-white world that shows him no prey has been through this area. There are no tracks here, he will have to continue to search and well beyond the den it seems. Something had learned where danger slept, in these woods. How irksome.
Too many failures lay behind him, in the hollow days of years past. This time must be different. Perhaps a trap to catch the False Spirit? Something to lure him in so Death can finally reach him. The Silver Bear rumbles thoughtfully to himself. Yes, a trap sounds like a nice change of pace.
But first, a meal... He hasn't eaten since last year.
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Posted: Sun Mar 16, 2025 4:48 pm
Quote: The weather is turning but mother nature has one last hurrah in store - it seems she has mustered up a blizzard that's blown down from the mountains and over the majority of the Kawani lands. This is highly unusual for this time of year, it seems winter was not ready to let go! How does your soquili fair in this blizzard? Do they see the signs early and manage to avoid it completely? Do they seek shelter in time and wait it out? Do they find themselves stranded and in danger? Do they fend for themselves or do they help others around them? Write an RP responding to the above prompt telling us about how your soquili responds to this natural disaster! Should you meet the requirements, the spirits may send them something to keep them warm!  Quote: ]'A little late for snows to come dancing, is it not?' The mixed-featured mare finds herself mutely asking the world around her, blue and yellow eyes narrowing as she searches the sky for signs her instincts are correct.
Though the sunlight gleams down on her, catching on her golden horn and spilling warmly over her darkly feathered wing backs, Stanza can feel the oncoming weather brewing before it begins to make itself known. There may not yet be churning clouds or actual falling snow, there may not yet be signs the peaceful rise of spring is about to nearly be stifled by winter's last rush, but she can sense it is so. The thin sprigs of grass and tender blossoms that have already begun to flourish are perfectly on time, but it seams there will be one last bite of cold to see how many will fall before it.
While the weather remains gentle for the moment, Stanza knows it will not last. A blizzard is coming, and it feels like a swiftly striking one too.
There's something she can't quite put her paws on that tells her so.
Something that makes her ears perk up, a humming of atmospheric sensitivity that makes the ice crystals clinging to her chime softly. She fluffs her feathers up as she considers her surroundings with a faint narrowing of her eyes, long tail lashing contemplatively. Stanza debates matters before she comes to a swift conclusion. It's no good to continue on with her scheduled journey to the mountains. For if her instincts are correct the worst of it will be coming from there anyway, sweeping southward in an unseasonable rush of snow and ice and sleet-field wind. Dangerous and unpleasant travel conditions, to say the least.
"Ugh, flying in a blizzard? Hardly worth the wing damage to attempt," the white, winged canid mare decides with a sharp spin, throwing herself into a ground-eating gallop with a lash of her fox like tail. "I think not. Back home on the ground would be wiser, and faster..."
There's a warm den just within the reawakening shield of the woods that will keep them out of the weather if she can find her mate in time. It should still have some forage stashed nearby and plays host to a convenient stream and rock pool. Even if the blizzard strikes hard it won't be enough to freeze the water source within, and plenty of melting snow means a clean water source. The oaks have all begun to reawaken which will hold off the worst of the weather conditions, meaning good grazing shouldn't be hard to find and hunting is unlikely to be negatively impacted. So it's just a matter of hunting down a certain shadow dog, and convincing him to curl up with her until these late season snows have come and gone.
Not having a better plan, Stanza races off to Underland to see if her mate has gone to tea with his family. Though he is not, once there she takes the time to have a cup herself and inform them of the shifting weather. It is hard to resist the chaos and mirth of the cousins and their games. They receive her news with good grace and perhaps only the mildest of concern. She can sense Katya is bemused by the warning but willing to believe it, though deep in the heartwood here they are unlikely to be greatly affected. Maybe a little snow will get through, more likely their trade partners will be snowed in and things quiet for a few days. Nothing insurmountable, in the grand scheme of things.
A little snow is unlikely to discourage the Cheshires from tea or games, so Stanza imagines that very little -if anything- about Underland life will change in that regard.
"Try visiting the Den you mean to settle in," the Cheshire Queen of the Underland advises, her own dark mate at her side. "If anything can be said about the ShadowDogs? Well, let's just say, perhaps he will surprise you."
***
"Since you weren't there, I went ahead and told them that rough weather was headed this way. I suspect a late season blizzard with a fairly severe bite. Since I was already there I had some tea, we talked for a little while, and then Katya told me to see if you were here." Stanza explained softly as she fitted herself to his right side, curling her pale side into the mixed shades of dark velvet of her mate's pelt as they stood in the mouth of the den and watched the snow begin to fall. "Well she cryptically suggested that I go wherever I meant to take you to, and suggested that you'd magically be there. And you were, which is probably the most annoying thing?"
There's a low rumble of laughter and she gives him a playfully irked shove in response to it.
"I can't help but wonder how you would know that I would be looking for you, when there's still very little sign of weather so severe I'd need to turn back... More to the point, how would you know to head here so that you arrived first, when there's not even a reason for you to guess I would suggest we wait out the storm here. If things had gone according to plan, I would have been winging my way north. I might have been caught in it, and I don't even know where you would be if the day started out well and then went poorly."
"You could just say I know you."
'Cryptic but romantic,' Stanza thinks fondly, giving another sulky nudge before she settled herself against his side, basking in his warmth. She affectionately curls her tail around his leg, pressing her cheek into the splash of white that wraps along the underside of his neck.
"Alright, Shadowman, you know me." Stanza allows, watching as the snow continues to fall with increasing speed. "Let's head back into the shelter and you can keep me warm, hmm? I can't think of a better way to wait out a blizzard than with you."
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Posted: Sun Jul 06, 2025 12:03 pm
Quote: For those soquili with a green hoof, it is almost time to harvest before the summer sun wilts crops. Does your soquili partake in any farming or gardening? If so, what do they plant? How do they care for their garden? Do they work solo, with familiars or are they part of a herd or family who work together? Are they farming for food, are they gardening flowers, do they grow herbs for medicine or are they trying to conserve or restore a damaged plot of land? If they don't farm or garden, why not? Do they not have the skill? Have they killed every plant they've tried to keep alive? Do they want to learn but don't know where to start? Maybe they can reach out to a farming or gardening soquili to get some tips! If they don't farm or garden, how do they eat? Do they live off the land and forage for food or are they hunters? Write an RP responding to the above prompt telling us about how/why your soquili farms/gardens if they do. Or why not if they don't and what they do instead.Quote: Though there was no such thing as a “typical” Cheshire, there were certain things one might learn to expect if spending time amongst them. An affinity for tea and cake, buttons and bran, riddles and rhymes- expected. From this, one might infer a sweet, semi-sociable nature, and a mischievous streak might also be assumed.
Esfir Lahal ‘Hunt the Thimble’ was perhaps a bit more of a solitary sort than her mother and aunts. Though close with her siblings and cousins, when it came to her personal craft of poisons and antidotes, she preferred to work solo. The loving, supportive nature of her family aside, there was something soothing about focusing alone on leaf and branch and earth, on her claws and fangs and what she could make with her bottles and dishes and various tools.
Of course, one could only go so far on one’s own. There was something to be said for consulting experts when embarking on a new venture, attempting to problem solve, and even in the case of pursuing innovative alternatives to tried-and-true classics. Though the inhabitants of her garden were far more treacherous than those that Sovanna and Ko’ikku tended to, the young Cheshire felt she had a chance to learn much from even brief tours through the other mares’ gardens. Of course, they were both the sort to offer longer visits and even a sample exchange, if only Esfir would take the time to visit.
How could she refuse?
The necessary but brief forays outside of her home territory had been both educational and entertaining, Esfir had found. Much to the dismay of her cousins, who had all been rather put out that she was wandering without them, and even without her brother in some cases. Their disapproval apparently was both due to her absence from their normal games, and the fact that in her absence they were on the hook for tending to her garden. Normally, Esfir was more likely to throw visitors out of her space than she was to invite them to tour her carefully constructed beds and the workshop where she tinkered with drying, powdering and storing them.
Still, their duties were nothing extreme, really. All she asked was that they were sure to do some watering now and then, and checking in to make sure no late-Spring revenge frost threatened her otherwise-sheltered delicate nursery beds. Hardly extravagant.
As gratifying as it was to be missed, Esfir really didn’t understand why they were all so out of shape about such things. It isn’t as if her children are dangerous? At least, they aren’t dangerous in the way her mother -Ekaterina, called Katya- the Queen’s Gardens were. The Queen’s Gardens were filled with a variety of carnivorous plants, swift-creeping vines, and all manner of typically-edible existences that had -somewhat upsettingly- evolved to do the eating.
It wasn’t unreasonable to be distraught when admiring a peony ended with one’s most magnificent tail being heinously chomped on. If her garden started taking bites out of guests, Esfir wouldn’t blame them for being reluctant to visit. But really what were a few poisonous herbs and flowers when faced with plants that might chomp you if you moved too fast or too slow? As long as everyone promised to keep their mouths to themselves, they were safe in Esfir’s gardens. Nothing could be simpler.
Not like one could guarantee such a promise in Katya’s gardens. Unless one really worked to form a relationship with the carnivorous plants, their temperaments were mercurial and capricious at best. Even Esfir’s own hangers-on, the carnivorous plants she dubbed Snicker and Snack, viewed them with misgivings. And they were kin.
So yes, she’d given her cousins and brothers extremely simple instructions, and then left matters in their capable claws. Not for long! Just long enough to see her hard work was not destroyed while she was off taking a few jaunts to the gardens and nurseries of those older and wiser than she, experienced in plants and botany in the way she wasn’t. Yet. But she was doing her best to catch up!
Though her own interests were quite a bit more varied than Ko’ikku Ahmshere’s gardening specialty of breeding rose varieties, it was there that she had started. Ko’ikku’s gardens were in the lowlands, southward toward the plains from where Esfir lived in the high reaches of the forest on the sloping feet of the mountains. While there was a bed or two of other flower varieties and some more fragrant herbs, her main focus was roses. Blooms of all colors and sizes, and a variety of fragrance intensities. Walking into her territory was like entering a strange maze of colorful petals.
Home in the North, meant that Esfir and her gardens saw more snow and the threat of ice than Ko’ikku, so she was able to share some winterizing tips with the southern, spotted mare. In return Ko’ikku had excellent ideas about raised beds, irrigation, and methods to conserve or store water on site to help maximize things like storm-water and snowmelt. Ko’ikku had to make such arrangements so she wasn’t always hauling water, but Esfir could make arrangements to save herself work in the future. They’d sort of bonded over tilling a fresh bed with flashing claws and that had largely been the end of her second day visiting, a good memory for the journey home.
All in all it had been a rather long distance to travel for a short but very beneficial visit, even overlooking the delicate rose cutting Ko’ikku had offered to Esfir for her antidotes bed. A preciously kind gift, which Esfir had returned by promptly messengering over one of her squat jars of healing unguent and a delicate bottle of antidote once she had returned home. She’d checked on her gardens, put some new practices into effect, and then softly nipped at Shah’s ear for luck before setting off again on her next visit.
Eteri Voska’s territories were in the mountains and foothills, much like the Underland Herd’s own. Her interests and gardening focus overlapped with Esfir’s, for Voska was a healer and herbalist. In addition to keeping a few small beds for fruit and vegetables to barter and trade, her main focus was all matter of healing herbs and plants. Considering Esfir’s own collection of poisons and antidotes, she’d taken a sampler of clippings in the hopes of trading for some of Voska’s own plants.
And she had not been disappointed. Voska had been all too happy to n** sprouts of this and that, sharing what names and nicknames and care tips she had gleaned for each of the offerings she made to Esfir’s collection. Peace Lily and Butterfly Palm, a new Lavender variety and a young teatree. Among the collection of ‘future’ offerings -or so Esfir wished- was a young ginkgo tree just flourishing under Eteri’s care, a gift through trade from her mate. It was from far away but seemed to be doing well with care, which gave Esfir hope for her own collection in the future.
In the mean time, she was content with the fact that her territory ensured that the fierce summer sun was of little concern. Her new water conservation plans should help take advantage of the incoming rains that threatened to wash away a lesser prepared sort. She had plans to clip and dry some new samples, and then the real fun of grinding and mixing and preparing could begin. At this rate, she’d stay busy till autumn.
But first, she’d see about getting a nap.
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