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 Posted: Sun Nov 16, 2008 11:34 am
Your Name: Lady Sin
Soquili you own/co-own: None
Name for the basket: Ipalnemoani ( Possible nickname: Ipalai ) [The Unknown god.]
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? The Foal will have to face the world alone, well alone in a sense, like his mother he has a strong connection with the dead and can hear strong spirits around him they will be his guides through his early life , defiantly at least for the first part of his life later I will be open for adoption or other friendship plots.
Prompt Response: 2
2. You've read the story so far. Tell us what happens to your basket from there! Is it found by someone else? Does the foal emerge from the basket and face an insane mother? Does someone else manage to find and rescue the basket from the gravesite?
Eyes opened slowly, blinking his body felt heavy almost drugged with coltish sleep. His memories of this world so far were far from clear, just flashes of sensation, being squeezed and pushed from safety against his will, coldness and creeping appendages over his body, clinging to him and twisting into him and around him from the ground below they were with him now, those wisps of consciousness and so he was no alone in the new dark warm enclosed space which his body had been settled into. He didn’t remember that even happening. He just knew he wasn’t where he had originally been dropped into the world anymore.
The voices around him lulled him now comforted him in the dark and soothed him, they were his friends although as yet he had no real concept of the word. But he would learn for now the voices were urging him to eat and he smelt something sweet that had been placed by his nose. Closing his lips around it he pulled each morsel into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. He already felt a little and stronger and was he finished he felt more prepared to face the world, the voices would help him. And now they told him ‘push’ and no they didn’t exactly speak, not in any words that could be defined as sounds or syllables but he knew what they wanted.
So pushing his small body up on shaky legs his head pushed up against the top of his basket, his ears pushed back against his skull with the effort as he pushed harder. And he could see light, making him squint even this dim luminescence more than new untrained eyes could handle just now, but the voices kept urging him on encouraging him, instead of pushing straight up now then he started to push his head towards the gap forcing his nose out into the world he sniffed and a whole battering ram of new smells assaulted him making his nose twitch followed by a sneeze.
But he kept pushing and with a final effort the latch snapped and the basket was pushed onto it’s side. The colt was throwing out rolling in a jumble of long and awkward limbs. He tumbled until he hit a rough shaped stone hard enough to knock it sideways. Dazed his vision blurred but the voices were trying to tell him something, shouting at him, warning him and from above a shadow had fallen. When he looked up he met fierce red eyes and a aura that could chill most any creature to the bone but the colt simply stood there. Meeting the dangerous gaze he sensed he should be scared but he felt no fear of her, and she seemed almost puzzled by him in turn.
However this stillness could only last a short time, the mare’s eyes landed on the stone and she started to speak, what could only be anger sparking in her. The colt tried to listen but more voices were invading his head making that impossible and they screamed one unifying message ‘run...run...run!” and so he turned legs scrabbling on dirt pushing him up on shaky legs he started to run, well stumble would be a more accurate description as he forced himself to move just in time to avoid flailing hooves which would have surely crushed him. Obeying the consciousness which swirled around him he made it out of the clearing and into the safety of the trees, here the voices told him that she would not follow, and indeed when he looked back the back behind him was empty. He came to a shaky stop and flopped down in the leaf litter. His small sides heaving with the effort the small sprint had cost him. And on the wind the spirts called his name, the new creature born of a good and a monster as the foal once again fell asleep “Ipalnemoani”
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Posted: Sun Nov 16, 2008 7:34 pm
Your Name: Makette Soquili you own/co-own: I own/co-own none. Name for the basket: Yayauhqui – “black smoking mirror” named for the dark color and smoke. Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? The basket will face the world alone, and this will fuel his resentment of his mother and father. He has an odd aspect in that he can sense his mother's approach, or when she is around in general, and becomes very hateful of her because of it. Only... he doesn't know that the mare in the graveyard is his mother. xD Prompt Response:Quote: 2. You've read the story so far. Tell us what happens to your basket from there! Is it found by someone else? Does the foal emerge from the basket and face an insane mother? Does someone else manage to find and rescue the basket from the gravesite? If you choose this prompt, please include at least some RP with the emerged foal, not JUST the basket rescue by a third party.The basket, surrounded in muddled red smoke, stayed hidden for weeks. Its mother never found it, for it blended in with its surroundings very well. There was nothing to disturb it, aside from the wind and silence of the graveyard. The little foal inside the basket slept in darkness, not knowing what he would face upon leaving the basket. That fateful day came almost too soon for the foal. He pushed his way out of the basket, the red smoke following him. The foul looked around the graveyard in search for someone to call ‘mother’. He found none. He had no name, either. All he knew was he was alone. Very much alone. Days past and he ate from the shrubbery around him. He had the strangest feeling of home in the graveyard, surrounded by all the death and silence. More than once he saw a black mare, with smoke on her hooves and a skeletal head, head into the graveyard. There was some kind of pull he found, one that told him she was important to him. In what way, he could not be sure. He slowly came to despise the mare, however. This pull he seemingly had for her was beyond annoying, as if this mare was his family. He had no family, or if he did, they did not care about his wellbeing. The foal would wander away from the graveyard when he felt (another annoying aspect to the pull: he could feel when the mare was close) her come. He began to slowly learn about the area around the graveyard with each of these outings. It was during one of these outings, he came to name himself. He’d sensed the mare coming, and fled the yard quickly. He stayed within the shadows, disliking and the distrusting the light. The breeze blew around him, the muddled red smoke moving with it. The dark foal’s ears twitched as a word came across the wind. “Yayauhqui… yayauhqui…yayauhqui…” it said over and over, like a whisper. He did not know what it meant, though it struck something in him. He could not be sure whether someone was actually speaking it, or if the wind was. He did know, though, that he liked the sound of it. The wind said it many more times to him, and the young foal dared to look for where came from. He walked from shadow to shadow, trying to follow the words. Like the wind, however, the words kept changing direction, never staying in one direction for more than a few of his steps. He walked until the sun was setting, casting an orangey glow over the sky and land. He was not making any progress either. He walked the same three hundred steps multiple times, following the words. The foal stopped and stamped in frustration, letting out a bleating noise. This was getting nowhere! The words came back to him, in the same whispery tones. “Yayauhqui… yayauhqui… yayauhqui…” He snorted and shook his head annoyed with it. He turned on his hooves and walked back to the graveyard. The mare was still there. He snorted again and left the safety of the burial site. No use in going back to a place where he held contempt for someone. He heard the words again, as if they were following him. “Yayauhqui…” he said softly, slightly surprised when it flowed from his mouth. Yayauhqui… He was Yayauhqui. He was the “black smoking mirror.” He wasn’t sure how he knew this, or what a ‘mirror’ was at all, but it seemed to fit. Yayauhqui didn’t know why, but it fit him well. The muddled red smoke covered dark foal walked away from the graveyard into the coming dusk, a growing hatred for the ones who had left him in that graveyard, and an already present contempt for the black mare. Only time would tell what would become of Yayauhqui…
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Posted: Sun Nov 16, 2008 8:54 pm
Your Name: Lady Aria Starstone Soquili you own/co-own: AyidanName for the basket: Ahulliztli (Means Joy) Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? Aydian/Aria (human character) Prompt Response: (Prompt 2) Ayidan stumbled through the graveyard he'd somehow gotten into. He didn't know how he got there, he didn't know where he was! This was BAD. He wanted out of here. He didn't like this place, it scared the somewhat timid stallion. "Th... this is... nu... AHHH!" He yelps, stumbling over something. He almost trips... almost... then rights himself, and he looks to see what he tripped on. He stares. Oh no, that can't be right! A basket? Here? He had to rescue it! Something, surely, had happened to the poor little foals parents, and he'd get it to safety. Aria and he could see if they could find the parents later. In the meantime, he had a duty to this poor basket. He carefully manages to get it picked up... and heads back, the way he came. He'd worry about anything else, once he'd found the way home. After what seemed like hours, he got the little basket to the TeePee he lived at, with his human, and brought it inside. Aria was sitting there, embroidering a jacket for the coming winter, and she looks up. "A... basket? Where did you get that, Ayidan?" He tells her the story, as concisely as possible, with no stuttering, for he knew Aria well enough to feel safe. Aria ponders, then says "We will care for the little one... If we find that one's parents, and they want him or her back, we shall do as is right... If not, we shall raise the little one as our own." She ponders, then says "And we shall name it Ahulliztli, for we shall try to bring joy to the little one's life." Weeks passed, and despite his best efforts, Ayidan could find no word of parents missing a basket, or of any who'd had bad things occur in the graveyard. And then the child emerged. It was a filly, a pretty little girl, and Ayidan took to caring for her, as, of course, did Aria, but he kept her close... He felt protective of her. Ahulliztli seemed to need it... She was sweet and kind, but sometimes... Well. She seemed to just drift off, lost in her mind, whispering odd things, almost as if she heard people talking to her that weren't there. The rest of the time, she was fine, and seemed normal enough. Taking her to the river, one day, Ayidan sits besides her, and says "Ahulliztli... be safe, little one." He closes his eyes, resting. Ahulliztli giggles, and runs to the edge of the water. She didn't want to play in it, as it was cold, but she liked staring at herself in the water. She looked down, and gazed, with intensity, into it. Her little tail flickered, as she studied herself. She looked so different from her 'Uncle Ayi', and she found it amusing. As she stared, though, she felt odd. Oh she didn't like it when this happened, Uncle Ayi worried so! But she couldn't fight it, so she let it happen, her eyes focused on nothing, though she still appeared to look at the river. "The god... calls... he seeks his brother..." She murmurs, her face emotionless. "Texcatlipoca, burning water..." She shakes herself, suddenly, freeing herself this time. Bah. Such oddness. It was pure nonsense, of course. Gods! HAH! And water didn't burn. How silly.
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 7:31 am
Your Name: melodymh4
Soquili you own/co-own: Reikon Taberu, Blaithin(Full rights have been given to me here), Houndoom(Co-ownership agreement)
Name for the basket: Xiuhcoatl (Pronounced: Shou-co-ot )(Meaning: Fire Serpent / weapon of destruction)
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? Houndoom will, as he finds the foal in the prompt below, but will give the foal freedom to wander about as he wishes.
Prompt Response: 2
He was lost.
Not that the stallion cared to admit it; it wasn’t pride that kept his lips shut, but confidence that he would, somehow, find his way back. After all, it wasn’t as though he had a specific home, and Houndoom was flexible with any surroundings and any kind of soquili. Even the darker surroundings he was entering didn’t faze him much, only triggering mere surprise that such a place existed in the peaceful lands of the Kawani. The stallion only smirked, reminding himself of the existence of soquilis like the skinwalkers and kalonas...the latter of which many frequently mistook him for.
He felt himself fall silent as he surveyed his surroundings, the atmosphere was bleak and stones jutted out of the grass, giving it an eerie ambience. There was something about this place that spooked him, as though there was a spider crawling up his back, and he frowned, repressing a shiver. It wouldn’t do to be too curious, he mused and after a debate in his mind, the rational part of him won and he decided to turn back and attempt to retrace his steps.
As he did, a yellow shimmer caught his eye and he quirked an eyebrow, bending his head to nose at the dark blades of grass that shielded the source. It was a basket, he realised with a jolt of surprise, and he felt a little guilt seep in. His own children, his two daughters, he remembered. He had been so proud of them, but now, he had no idea where they were. At least, he reasoned, he took care of them when they were young foals, but this basket’s parents were nowhere to be seen...it was as if it was abandoned. His heart knotted, and he nosed at the dark green basket with his muzzle. “Hey kid.” He murmured quietly. “Know where your parents are?”
He was answered with a tap; and he jumped back in shock, for he had not expected a reply. The stallion watched the basket warily and the cover opened, slightly to reveal an eye, a gleaming yellow one that matched the gem on the basket. The gaze settled on him, and he stared back in mute shock before realising what had happened, and gestured for the foal to emerge from the basket. It took a few seconds of meeting the foal’s apprehensive gaze before the cover rose and the foal stood shakily, stepping out of the confinement in which he had been in since he was born.
“Who...” The foal began unsteadily, stumbling over the words he struggled to pronounce, keeping a distance from the strange horned soquili. “...You...?”
“Uh.” Was the only word that spilled out of Houndoom’s mouth and he was rewarded with another curious stare. “I’m your caretaker. For now.” He had pondered over it before speaking again; it was the only right thing he do, he believed. Until he found the foal’s parents. It would weigh heavily on his heart to leave the little one alone.
“Oh.” The foal answered back simply, swishing his tail as he contemplated over this, frowning. This...soquili was his caretaker? No matter how strange or different he looked from himself, if he was here when he emerged, it would be okay to follow the other right? Besides, if he heard correctly, the stallion had no idea where his sire or dam was, and neither did he. It was better than trying to fend for himself, he reasoned.
“Okay.” He agreed, and tagged along as the horned soquili trotted off, gesturing for him to follow, his eyes following the dark forked tail of the other with fascination. Oh well, this would seem interesting. He pondered, turning to give the graveyard, his possible birthplace, a last glance. Had his parents left him there? To die, to leave him alone in the world, or simply forgotten about him? Either way, they didn’t love him, he was sure.
All he had was this stallion, and he didn’t even know who he was.
Such a strange, strange world to be born in.
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 11:37 am
Your Name: Perky Persocom
Soquili you own/co-own: Joseph [co-owned with _-cheeky_chobit-_]
Name for the basket: Yashodhara - it is traditional Indian for he who earned the right to fame
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? He grow up with Jo and Taharial ^-^ who will be his foster parents
Prompt Response: 2
Yashodhara smiled as he walked around his home with a small hum as he looked towards his foster parents who were sleeping near him their warmth cradling his fragile little body. He smiled he loved his parents but it had come clear to him that he was not there true son, even though he wished he was he wanted to ask them so much that they did not know. He was taught that god works in mysterious ways so I guess this was the all mighty's way of telling him that this was where he was meant to be even though he wanted to meet his father and mother one day. He was in no rush he had friends here other foals that played with him and also he was getting a great education from his foster parents. He was well fed and well sheltered in a way he felt spoiled but he knew that they did it because they wanted to because they loved him. He snuggled down against Taharials fur with a small laugh of joy before he closed his little yellow eyes with a wide smile painted across his face. “Morning.” He mumbled in a little voice he still had not got the hand of the whole talking thing yet but he was sure he would be able to manage soon enough he was told he had a lovely voice like a little angel. It was funny how people could call him such a name, but his parents were color blind they did not distinguish between good and evil they believed everyone had a heart of gold and he took in there belief it was like a ray of hope that even a demon like him could find happiness. He looked up at the clear sky at the morning that had just blessed them with its rays of warmth another day forever peaceful with the family he would always treasure even if he did meet his real family these guys would always be his TRUE family. “Mom, Dad wake up I want to play!” he chuckled nudging them gently as his fathers eyes scanned him a sweet smile of affection painted across his lips. “Morning Son have a nice dream?” he asked in a soft and accepting tone.
((I decided to write something sweet after all he was raised no different from any other foal and up to maybe accidentally meeting his mother or father one day his life will be normal and blissful and he will always be a calm gentlemen ^-^ unless his parents influence him otherwise =3))
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 2:34 pm
Your Name: ArashiX
Soquili you own/co-own:
Eton with Kesmi
Arithyl with MMP [I've got 50% RP rights, so no need to bother with a link]
Aleera
Name [Ideas] for the basket:
+ **Tezcatlipoca (tes-cat-lee-poh-ka) or "smoking mirror" was the god of the night, the north, temptation, sorcery, beauty and war. According to the Aztecs, he was also the god of discord and deceit as well as the god of robbers, but he was also the god of rulers, warriors and sorcery. He was associated with the notion of destiny or fate and with the jaguar, and was known for inciting wars between peoples. Attributes of both Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl originally came from pre-Aztec traditions of the Olmecs and the Toltecs. The Aztecs assimilated them in their religion, and the two deities were equated and considered twin gods. They were both equal and opposed. Thus Tezcatlipoca was called "Black Tezcatlipoca", and Quetzalcoatl "White Tezcatlipoca".
+ Tzitzimime were said to be stars once but were cast out to become lords of the dark underworld, and were a danger both at night and especially during an eclipse. Each dawn and dusk they would battle the sun. It was prophesized that these star demons would descend to earth and devour the few humans who survived the destruction of the Mexica world and universe when it ended in earthquake and famine.
Note: I've tried picking out names that will reflect the personality I have sketched out for him as an adult. Tezcatlipoca might very well be my best bet, as it's essentially the embodiment of my ideas~ 83
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? I rather imagine he will face the world alone; he might well run into Soquili that will guide and help to shape the way he thinks and acts, but that would be about the extent of things.
Prompt Two You've read the story so far. Tell us what happens to your basket from there! Is it found by someone else? Does the foal emerge from the basket and face an insane mother? Does someone else manage to find and rescue the basket from the gravesite?
Prompt Response: [664 Words]
The large oak tree creaked and groaned in the wind, and the colt within the wicker basket shuddered. It was time. Was it safe? Instinct told him to push out of the basket and into the world that was nearly dark. For some reason, the foal felt safest when it was dark...but sunset would do. He needed to see. Needed to make sure it was safe. Parents? He didn't know if he had any. He thought he did...
Emerging from the basket was...a task. A slow one, at that. Using his legs for the first time to stand upon them... Well, it made for a wobbly colt. He hardly dared to breathe as he stood upon his own four hooves until he was overcome by the urge to snort the musty scent from his nose. He wibbled and wobbled, rocking unsteadily yet not falling to the ground. His ears swivelled as he listened to the sounds, eyes adjusting to the fiery light cast by the setting sun. Curious, he looked around the burial grounds, not exactly afraid...but there was a sense of disquiet and unease he couldn't shake. Craning his head, he looked at himself...and felt disappointment at what he saw. Something rose and curled around his body like a visable mist. Distressed, he sniffled, and caught a new scent.
...her...
She was indescribable--or at least, his limited knowledge couldn't describe her. But he felt the instinctive urge to flee. Flaring his nostrils against it, he splayed his hooves and looked long and hard at what could only be described as...well, hellspawn.
The mare snorted, and something shifted as it hovered around her. The colt, startled, rolled his eyes and stumbled backwards. She--! She had the same floating...mist...around her body. Was she his mother?!
He tripped over his own basket and fell to the musty ground before scrambling to his feet. He stared at her, wide-eyed, the whole time. She had a mad look about her, a threatening aura that he found chilled him to the bone. And when she lunged forwards, fire-red eyes glowing bright, he shrieked and flailed with his coltish legs, somehow managing to move out of the way. She turned and screamed one word out of fury.
"Tezcatlipoca!" The sound was horrific--a snarl of feral fury, a wail that sounded like lost souls shrieking for revenge and retribution. Perhaps she'd meant to say Quetzalcoatl...but in her moment of insanity, so unlike most times that she was in her graveyard, she named her son.
What the colt couldn't remember - only recall faintly - that he'd heard the same wails before. It was the night that his siblings were taken away...and when Brigitte returned, she'd been making those same sounds.
Frightened out of his wits, the colt acted upon instinct, letting it drive him away from his basket, away from the burial grounds...away from the screaming mare that frightened him so. He ran blindly, rolling his glowing yellow eyes, flecks of foam forming upon his sleek dark hide as he came closer and closer to exhaustion. All he knew was that hte mare was angry with him. Him. He'd done nothing wrong.
...was Tezcatlipoca his name?
What had he done? Who was she? Was she his mother? He didn't know. He didn't want to find out. He ran until he could run no more, and fell, tumbling, over an exposed tree root. He got a nose-full of grass and dirt, but didn't move, save to rearrange his legs from the awkward and uncomfortable position he'd landed in. He'd hit his head, though he wasn't aware...but as the darkness closed in, his thoughts faded, and for now...the image of the terrifying dark mare left him alone.
When dawn came...he would face the new day alone and survive. Survive...
Little did Tezcatlipoca know, that word would strike a chord in him. His will to survive would be unerringly strong. It was fortunate, for he would need it as he grew.
[( Additional Notes: -Squeal.- This has me so excited. And yes, I realize there isn't much via the colt's personality right now--aside from a few flicks here and there--that, as I've said, will start to develop after this point. As it's preferred he's to be RP'd, it'll make for many good encounters with other Soquili, both saintly and evil, to get my desired result--something that's somewhat akin to Brigitte with shadows of Quetzacoatl, though as his name suggests, it'll be somewhat opposite of the stallion. :3 Thank you so much for giving us this opportunity. )]
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 5:35 pm
Your Name: Epinari Soquili you own/co-own: None Name for the basket: Huecuvus
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? Alone Prompt Response: Quote: 1. He is now an adult, and despite not having a clear memory of his birthplace, he finds his way back to the graveyard where he was born. Strangely, the place seems right to him. However, just as he's exploring this connection that he has with this location, he comes face to face with Brigitte. What does he feel? How does he act? Huecuvus followed his feet like his had all his life. He was used to the searing of the grass, green or brown, as it burnt away from the fire that curled around his sharp hooves. The world around him seemed to hold its breath as he passed; waiting for some calamity or another to happen in his wake. And the word would not be wrong. Drought had been continual in the plains as he had stayed there, and many creatures started to starve as no new grass grew to replace the dying. No rain replenished the streams, which dried into deadly beds of mud that trapped helpless victims in the depths and held them until death finally claimed them, from the heat of the sun or from starvation. And the only water that did flow in the streams was brackish. Those that dwelled on the plains finally decided that it was he who was causing this to happen. That he had brought the plagues onto them and their livestock, and drove him from the only place he had known as home. So now he traveled again, finding someplace that would be safe for him to live, though he did not find it. There was always something happening wherever his feet trod, and soon no living thing would draw near to him. That's why, when he found his feet entering the graveyard, he stopped and looked around. There was not even bird song here, and he nosed at a tombstone, knowing that it signified someone lay there in death. There was nothing living here. Nothing would run from him. He couldn't hurt anything. The grass was already dry and withered. The trees barely had their leaves on them anymore. To him, it was perfect. He made his way through the tombs, studying things that looked oddly familiar to him, when a noise drew his head up. Before him, was a black mare that seemed cloaked in shadows. Around her neck was a necklace of bones, with a human skull in the center. When she spoke to him, it was in nonsense, and her eyes chilled him, though comforted him strangely. This was one he was sure had lived through a life that he had. And it had driven her mad. He could very well be looking at an image of himself in later years, when all hope and life had left him, and anger had replaced even the strange stirrings of care he had in his soul. He backed away respectfully from the mare, making sure that nothing was stepped on or marred by his passage, and headed out once again, finding his way once more. It was a comfort to know that he was not the only one that could find comfort among the dead. He would find his own place to call home. That graveyard was hers. And as he walked, he started to piece together why the graveyard was vaguely recognizable. And why he was sure that he had been there before. He was sure that the mare whom he left behind must be his mother.
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 6:33 pm
Your Name: Ruler of Everything
Soquili you own/co-own: Kipenzi - 2nd/3rd Post
Elawi's co-ownership agreement has not been posted yet - Naysha only offered the co-ownership to me last week or so, and seems to be being lazy. ;]
The yellow basket I own was given to me; I'm in sole ownership of it. ^^
Name for the basket: I'm thinking, right now, I like the name Huitzilopochtli for him. Huitzilopochtli was the god of war of the Aztec culture, and because I see the basket being a nagger, and someone who likes to cause turmoil, or little mini-wars, I think it's fitting. ^^
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? I think it would be interesting to have my [co-owned] Soquili, Kipenzi, raise the basket. Of course that would involve self-RPs (most likely quite a few), but I'm okay with that. I'm always up for other suggestions, but as I stand now, Kipenzi raises the basket until it's old enough to live on it's own - then they drift away from eachother, because they're so different.
Prompt Response: [[Prompt 2]]
Moonlight bathed over oddly colored, flaming basket. It blended into its surrounding, looking dark and dreary with only a sliver of color. Sitting behind a large, rounded gravestone didn't help much, either. It seemed as if the lone basket would reach a horrible fate. At least, that's how it seemed until Kipenzi came along.
The overly happy, optimistic mare known as Kipenzi tramped her way through the forest near the grave sight. The light-colored fur around her front hooves was covered in barely-wet mud; which was odd for Kipenzi, as she usually looked near-perfect. She poked her large, black nose through the last of the trees and peered out onto the graveyard. It was a very dreary place, covered in spider webs and sadness.
She cocked her head looking at the place, all the while stepping out into the open. The slightly crusty grass crackled under her large hooves as she continued to stare out into oblivion. The graveyard didn't look nearly as pretty when the darkness reared its ugly head.
Continuing to look around, Kipenzi stepped out onto the land a bit more, careful not to disturb any of the resting dead. She swung her head about, looking for anything that looked remotely similar to herself; happy. That was when she spotted a gold glint out of the corner of her teal-colored eyes. She quickly whipped her head around the see what it was.
Sitting in the shadow just behind a beautiful headstone was a firey basket, an enchanting golden gem place upon the front, adorned with deep-colored feathers. Kipenzi stared in awe at the glorious basket before stepping towards it, deciding to allow the curious part of her mind take over, and guide her to what would later be a tale of its own.
A large yawn escaped Huitzilopochtli's mouth, emitting a breath of deep, bloodred fire. Smiling, he looked over at Kipenzi, lashing his tail while in deep thought.
Because Kipenzi and Huitzilopochtli were so different, they often had little conflicts of personality. Of course, with Huitzilopochtli, these confrontations were usually on purpose, and meant to tear at Kipenzi's self-esteem.
Smiling evilly to himself before turning his head, Huitzilopochtli glanced back over at Kipenzi. "Kipenzi," he snarled, his mouth turned down into a from, "Why must you always be so... happy all the time? It's disgustting!"
Kipenzi only glanced at him for a second, pleading in her eyes, then turned away, as if embarrassed by her lack of pessemism or the young foal she had a hand in raising. Of course, this only empowered the demon inside of Huitzilopochtli.
"I bet your annoying attitude is the reason you still haven't gotten a mate yet, even though you're old as them rocks over there!" He flicked his tail lightly to direct her eyes toward a large circle of boulders, rocks that were believed to have settled on the land way before the first Soquili did.
When Kipenzi turned around, her ears nearly spewing smoke, Huitzilopochtli knew he had done wrong. Of course, this only made him happier. But when Kipenzi started to speak, he knew he'd poked her sore spot.
"Do. Not. Tease. Me. Because. I. Chose. You. Over. Males." Her nostrils flared and her tail lashed back and forth; something Huitzilopochtli knew was extremely uncharacteristic of Kipenzi. When she turned around, Huitzilopochtli stalked off, feeling sour. Why had that not worked as planned? Why didn't things go the way he wanted? How wondered and wondered, but knew he'd never get an answer. I chose this over homework tonight. Yay for staying up late and procrastinating? xD -fail-
Good luck everyone. <3
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 7:48 pm
 Your Name: FlamingStar-Sama Soquili you own/co-own: [ Ame ] <3333 Name for the basket: Zuma - Lord Frowns In Anger Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone?: He'll be all alone.. D'awww. :< Prompt Response:Quote: 1. He is now an adult, and despite not having a clear memory of his birthplace, he finds his way back to the graveyard where he was born. Strangely, the place seems right to him. However, just as he's exploring this connection that he has with this location, he comes face to face with Brigitte. What does he feel? How does he act? A rainbow of darkness loomed over a young stallion this evening. The suns rays shone horribly bright, but he managed to make his way to the shadows of the undiscovered. Zuma had traveled many places. He had been calmly alone all his childhood. But that never bothered him, the empty feeling actually felt comforting. Then again, the mysterious darkness always appealed to him.
Zuma had traveled quite a few places.. But he had made his way to a place he had never thought he would see. A dark heaven that he couldn't possibly have even imagined. A magical fog hung over the area. Dead plants, and memories filled the air. Something about this place felt so familiar. Like he had been here before. But Zuma would have surely remembered a place so magnificent, like this one.. Wouldn't he? Either way, he was drawn. Like a plant to sunshine. How could he have not have found this haven sooner in his life. This was the most he had felt home.. In forever. He couldn't help but make his way into this graveyard. There weren't any formal tombstones or markers, but he could tell what it was.. The wind lightly swept Zuma's dark and kept hair, as he softly made his way around. He couldn't help but try and spot where someone might be. Where their loved ones last saw them. But where were they now? Not here. Forgotten in a graveyard with the honor of a new presence.
Crackling leaves filled the air, as he made his way around. He admired the surrounds, as his eyes stumbled across a few hurddled rocks. Hidden behind scrub brush at the base of the mountain. The rocks hadn't seemed to have fallen from the mountains. Someone, or someones, had to have put them there. They were so precise in their placement. They were surely their to show someone, or something where their territory lied. He could feel the presence of someone. He didn't know who, but it was someone who used to be very powerful. Or atleast, someone who used to have a lot of power. It only felt stronger the longer he stayed in his new found sanctuary. But something told him he wouldn't be staying for long. Not matter how much he wanted to stay, and appreciated the surroundings.
A tense feeling suddenly took over his chest. The air became thicker then he had remembered it being. He could feel his insides twisting with sudden fear. But wait.. Zuma loved the feeling of fear. The unexpected surprised he didn't know was coming his way. The undiscovered future, and the tension of his mind. But this fear wasn't the fear he had experienced. A fear of warning, and a sudden unwelcoming. He had to get out of this beautiful haunted area, before all his insides started to callopse. Stumbling, he managed to make it out before his insides disagreed with his admiration. Once he made it out, all was fine with the world again. He could breathe fine. The unexplainable fear was gone. What had caused it?
Looking back, there stood someone, or something. What ever it was, blended marvliously with the surroundings. But their red pircing eyes send chills down Zuma's spine. However, he wasn't afraid of it, not one bit. Stairing more closely at it also seemed a bit familiar. He couldn't put his hoove on it, but there was something most familiar about it. What kind of connection could this place, have with him..? With what ever it was he was stairing at? The only thing he knew was that he was rather intruiged with his new found haven. He wanted in. And not even the protector of the graveside was going to stand in his way. He had a new ambition now. And he wasn't going to let anyone stand in his way. The wind swept off his mane again, as he staired down the new company who seemed to familiar. But not familiar enough to let his pass it over. Trouble and confliction would soon loom over this sight more then ever before...
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Posted: Mon Nov 17, 2008 9:29 pm
Your Name : Kailey Koreco
Soquili you own/co-own :: I own Jaci, Beatrice [ agreement ], Amaris [ agreement ], and Marius [ agreement ] but have Rp rights for only the first three.
Name for the basket :: Baron la Croix (Croix for short)
Name Meaning :: A Loa spirit of the dead, a.k.a "Baron of the Cross"; is connected to/a manifestation of Baron Samedi (Baron Saturday) and Baron Cimetiere (Baron [of the] Cemetery) - source, second source
Temper :: Debonair - not seen in the prompt due to not enough positive life experience to properly form that type of personality, his more gentleman's side would form as he was raised by the mosaic-like herd that would be taking him in.
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? Croix would be found by my persona, Soki, after his solo escape from the cemetery. Soki would then turn the colt over to Beatrice to raise him "properly" - Jaci would become his secondary care giver, seeing as the stallion now has his own children and therefore understands how to deal with foals.
Prompt Response ::Quote: 2. You've read the story so far. Tell us what happens to your basket from there! Is it found by someone else? Does the foal emerge from the basket and face an insane mother? Does someone else manage to find and rescue the basket from the gravesite? The miasma was thick, choking -
He couldn't breath.
The oxygen filtering through the crevices in the warm artificial womb had been all he needed, accompanied by what food and drink he vaguely recalled being placed in the basket with him days prior - no, weeks... months? How does one tell time from the confines of a basket?
He could see the ever growing and fading light that trickled through the cracks, hear the various day animals scurrying around, the variations caused by the nocturnal varieties in turn. One in particular always caught his attention, drove him to ponder nudging the lid open to peek out. He never did though - the air drafting in from the outside was too cold - but the hoof beats made him wonder. Always there was something moving out there. Once or twice the sounds grew loud, as if the being had drawn close to his safe little home, but then they'd move away and he'd be left alone again.
Always he could see dark smoke creep into the basket when it came close though, wrapping around him like a blanket before vanishing into the still air. Much like the darkness billowing from his own form.
Unlike now though.
The colt coughed, shaking his head as much as the limited room the basket allowed. As if on fire from within, dark rust smoke shoved itself through cracks in the weave, blocking sweet air from entering and filling his tiny lungs. Coughing and coughing, he hoped to wait out the sudden flux in shadow matter emanating from his body. Seconds flashed to a minute, and his restricted world was spinning. Coughing, gagging, gasping for air, he twisted to shift his body upright, shakily shoving himself up onto his quaking hooves.
The lid slid off his head with a nearly muted thud, serpentine eyes blinking feverishly to clear his vision as he sucked in more air than he could hold. Coughing further due to his greedy folly, it took a moment till his systems calmed and adjusted enough to finally see the expanding world around him. The moon glistened high above, unmarred by clouds with the stars not even remotely close to rivaling the beauty of the giant, pale yellow orb. Its generous light guided him through the shadow marred land, turning it to near daylight with it's brightness to eliminate any foreboding thoughts.
Slowly his ears began to twitch this way and that, taking in the silence without much care. Something felt right about this place, like he had nothing to worry about here despite the night and the shadows. The miasma that almost killed him moments before now curled over the ground like a stretching cat, pleased and comforted by the strange soil and broken rocks jutting from the earth in intervals. He'd stopped to gaze upon one in particular, noting how it seemed to have almost uniform cuts across its surface. Vaguely he could make out the shape of what looked to be the skeletal remains of a horse behind the collection of strangely marked stones, nestling into a patch of thick shade. With disinterest his eyes returned to the headstones, trying his best to ignore the chill running down his back from viewing such a ghastly sight.
All too soon petrified eyes were forced to returned to the grotesque collection as the bones slowly drew to their hoofed feet, blinding red eyes staring at him as darkness swirled and collected around the bones. The skull opened its broken maw, and for a moment there was not a sound in the land, until such unlike he had ever dreamed ripped from the blackness where he guessed the creature's throat was, ethereal faces bellowing with it along its flanks.
The bright eyes were all he could see; still shaking as if a twig in a hurricane the screech echoed and filled his head. His entire body vibrated from the unearthly sound itself, a cord plucked and painful deep within his core. The miasma from her body mingled with his that still curled along the ground, the resulting sense of familiarity more frightening than the mare's appearance. Why would he feel such a wretched thing for this - this... this thing was not safe! This thing would surely kill him, add his bones to the macabre necklace round her throat. There was no source or reason or safety in affection towards it!
"'Da 'ell you be doin' 'ere?" the monstrous shadow-clad skeleton hissed, her figure beyond the exposed bones impossible for him to keep track of against the ink of the night despite the blaring moonlight, leaving only those piercing eyes for him to accurately focus on. Those cursed eyes that burned themselves within his mind and sent him into fits of hyperventilation and thundering pulses...
Snorting towards his silence, gnashing her teeth, she made her way towards him, almost oblivious to the rocks between them. Two sets of ears flickered towards a clatter of rocks that had tumbled somewhere to his right and the world stopped breathing.
A fox searching for scraps had caused them to fall as he sniffed about. Hope sprang into his system, heart ready to explode in his chest as the shadow mare melted into the background, shooting off after the stupid thing, distracted and seeming to totally forget about his presence. With her interest in him gone, and with that only care in the world he took his panicked leave, racing from the burial grounds. As he left though, he couldn't help but notice how that same pained cord from before echoed again when his body broke from the boundaries of the mare's land, some detached voice moaning out the single word - Croix - as if it were the meaning of life itself; as if it were a valid reason for him to remain where he belonged. No, how stupid – he didn't belong there with that crazed...
Thing.
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 5:02 am
(( It's 999 words long...I've checked. Just under 1,000. Sorry it's so long, I got slightly carried away. )) Quote: 1. He is now an adult, and despite not having a clear memory of his birthplace, he finds his way back to the graveyard where he was born. Strangely, the place seems right to him. However, just as he's exploring this connection that he has with this location, he comes face to face with Brigitte. What does he feel? How does he act?
Soquili you own/co-own: None currently. I'm waiting on my custom that I got a slot for in October at the moment, though.
Name for the basket: Temor, meaning "fear" in spanish. I’m sorry that it’s not in Aztec and such; I tried to make one, though.
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? The basket will have to face the world on its own. Poor guy...
Prompt Response:
There was a full moon out tonight.
Nights like these always made him feel adverturous. There was this weird feeling of some sort of thrill about these types of nights; yet he wondered, was it because of the moon's only light, piercing through the darkness but still too weak to stop the demons of the shadows. He'd never met one, but that didn't stop him from believing thier existance. Besides, they had helped him survive up to this point of his life, after being abandoned by his parents. Unless they had a good reason why they did it, he felt as if he could never forgive them. Anyway, he had always felt some sort of dark presence coming out of the shadows, and then he had these voices in his head, the voices of the shadows that had helped him climb his way to the top; now nearly no-one messed with him. And one way or another, they had always seemed to be with him, as if they wanted to help him and fill in the space for his parents. And if he ever did run into his parents, they better have a darn good excuse.
He felt the moon tug at his back, trying to pull him in the opposite direction; but the pull of the shadows was a stronger force, no match for the tug from the moonlight. He trudged on, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils, the scent of the night intoxicating him with its lure. He closed his eyes, trusting where his hooves landed as he walked this new, unfamiliar path. Then, Temor’s eyes opened as he detected a new scent. This new, strange smell reawakened something deep inside his most precious memories, creating a spark of familiarity to him. But something wasn’t right. He knew he had never even came here before, and besides, he could now hardly see where he was anymore. The darkness had swallowed him up.
But what was that?
Something had caught his attention. Up ahead, he saw the faint reflection of moonlight being casted off a rock of some sort. If he could, he drew back his lips, in a way, being slightly cautious if anyone was tricking him. But if there was someone tricking him, why would the shadows lie to him? Or were these shadows summoned by another? Who knew.
Breathing in deeply, he continued to step through the shadows, keeping his ears flicked forwards in alert at all times. His eyes widened in amusement. The demons of the shadows had lead him here….to a graveyard. He knew he had never been here before, but it felt so familiar.
Why?
Why was this place familiar, and why did these scents….not smell right? He smelt the dirt, the earth, and the slight scent of the rotting corpses, but what was this other smell? It made his back tingle in a small fear…a fear he had not felt since he was a young, young foal. It made him feel very uncomfortable. But whatever it was, it had no business here, this new territory. He would make it his, like all the other times with the same fear he sent through their bones. He snorted, and then took his first step inside.
Many others may have found it creepy, but he found it…comforting. The darkness crept over every stone, every piece of dirt, just engulfed everything. And these corpses….they all had once held the knowledge of some sort in their lives, maybe enough knowledge that could of possible made him become a shadow god. Could he even get that far? Of course he could.
Suddenly, Temor looked up. And there it was.
Well, she was. It had the body of a shadow horse, but the front legs of bone. Her face…was an amazing skull, with the brightest, glowing red eyes he had ever encountered. Just looking at her sent chills through his body. He had never felt chills in his life….ever. She looked extremely tough….but so majestic and beautiful. Could she be a shadow god? He couldn’t tell. Who was she? There was something about her that was also….familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
Suddenly, there was a glint of recognition burning in her eyes, and a sly, mischievous smirk crossed her face. Temor thought he heard a small, evil-like chuckle come from deep within her throat, before she lifted her head up even higher than before. Yet again, this was one of the first times that he had felt something in a very long time, and this time, it was because she was putting some type of vibe that screeched at him that she was the dominate one. Then, time just seemed to freeze. Nothing was moving, and nothing dared to move.
“Hello, my son.”
She had finally spoken. It could have been seconds, minutes, even hours or days since time seemed to freeze over. She smiled that same, sly smile before, like she was planning something. Suddenly, Temor felt a burst of some sort of energy, breaking her inner grip on him for a few moments. How dare she? How dare his mother come to him like this? And she was the one putting fear onto him? How DARE she? If he could, he pulled his lips back over his teeth, showing signs of his anger and uncomfortable feeling. He took a few, menacing steps forward, showing no fear. He was the one who would be in control of the fear now, not this so-called mother of his. Then, his muscles froze up. His eyes went blank with thought, and ideas crossed his mind. There were now so many questions to ask her….too many. Maybe she had been with him all this time, with the demons of the shadows who prowled with him. Maybe she could help him to become…a god of fear as well. Well, could she?
So many things to ask, so many things to know. This was all now getting to be very…….intresting.
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 11:56 am
Your Name: Kirowyn Love Soquili you own/co-own: Aethereal, Crisanto and KendaliName for the basket: I promise to keep the South American/Aztec/Mayan/Vodoun theme, but I would like to wait on a name. For the response I will refer to him as "???" (IE insert name here) Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? The stallion I just got, Kendali would raise her. He's going to be (I have yet to RP him) a happy go lucky horse. His head is always in the clouds - he lives in his own world. Prompt Response: (Prompt 1) Kendali didn't know why his charge wanted to go back to the dismal graveyard he had picked him up from, preferring more cheerful places himself, but he realized that the basket he had raised was now a full grown stallion and could make decisions for himself. He knew this is something that should be done alone, so he told him where to find the place and wished him luck.
Finally away from the sickeningly cheerful pseudo-parent, ??? started making his way back to the place he must have come from. He had known as a young foal that he was not in the right place. He abhorred colorful and happy things. They made him miserable. Kendali had tried to change him, but you can't change something that's born into you. He was perhaps a little more tolerant of those who walked in the light than he would have been if he hadn't been raised the way he was.
After awhile, the birds chirping overhead, flitting from tree to tree started to grate on his nerves as he made his way towards the graveyard. Why couldn't they just be quiet? The solemnity which he walked towards his goal should be just that - solemn. It was too hard to think when his thoughts were constantly interrupted by the twittering songs of birds. His tail suddenly lashed out as one of the colorful avians flew behind him. He smiled as he heard the thwack as it hit a tree.
When he thought he must be drawing close to the graveyard, he noticed an absence of the typical forest noises. Finally, he thought to himself, peace. The sun was just setting as he entered what must be the graveyard Kendali was talking about. He could see why it would give the shiny stallion the creeps. It didn't give ??? the same feelings though. His heart was racing, but it wasn't from fear. It was from excitement. The muted greens and blacks of his body fit in perfectly with the scenario. He glanced around quickly, but it seemed he was alone to explore. Slowly he started to make a round of the graveyard. Tombstones were old and decrepit; the names could no longer be read. Decaying leaves crunched under his hooves as he walked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been left alone… Ken was always hovering close to him, making sure he didn’t get into trouble. There were a few times during the night that ??? would be able to sneak away from the sleeping stallion, but he always went back to him. No matter how much the idiot Soquili annoyed him, he couldn’t bring himself to leave him forever.
He paused as a new noise in the graveyard interrupted his ponderings. It sounded like heavy breathing. For just a moment, ???’s skin crawled. He didn’t like being snuck up on. Turning around to face the newcomer, the shivery feeling ran through his body again. What the hell is the matter with me? When he finally saw what had made the noise though, he could understand his body’s reaction. A creature with wild black hair that seemed to float on the wind, shining red eyes and bones protruding from her face and forelegs stood before him. Beautiful. He felt a longing in his heart. He knew her… from a long time ago. “Mother?” he asked.
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 3:07 pm
Your Name: Capricorn Sunchai
Soquili you own/co-own: Ayelen
Name for the basket: Itzcóatl [meaning 'obsidian snake'.]
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone?: The basket will face the world alone, but will encounter and meet others as they wander the lands. Someday I would hope to have the foal meet up with his mother when he is older.
Prompt Response:Quote: You've read the story so far. Tell us what happens to your basket from there! Is it found by someone else? Does the foal emerge from the basket and face an insane mother? Does someone else manage to find and rescue the basket from the gravesite?
Within it a quiet rustling could be heard, barely audible even in the silence of the cemetery. Brigitte had wandered away for the time being, not knowing or caring that the last of her children lay alone and forgotten. The mare hadn’t sensed or paid mind to it when she had returned, her madness loosing the memory of even having three foals from her mind. How long ago had that been? Days? Within the confines of the wicker basket time had no meaning.
The rustling grew in intensity and a soft whinny could be heard, the foal’s voice searching desperately for something, anything nearby. When nothing came it grew quiet for a moment before the lid lifted just a little and a tiny muzzle poked out from within.
Another lonely whinny, searching distraughtly for attention.
Why was he so cold?
Where was his mother?
The colt knew nothing except it was chilly, hungry, and alone. Forcing his face out just a little more, his golden eyes looked about wistfully, searching for any sign of life that would offer at least a sense of warmth.
Nothing.
The dark mist about the basket swirled as the foal forced the lid off the rest of the way; it hit the ground with a soft thud as he lifted himself on wobbly legs to stand the best he could manage. He shivered, ebony and emerald pelt flat and opaque in the morning light. Why… was there no one around for him? Instinct screamed to him, told him this was wrong, but helped to only alarm the young one further.
As the colt stepped carefully out from his protective basket and further into the graveyard, he lowered his head inquisitively to sniff at every other passing stone or so, smelling moss and dirt and rain. He discovered quickly that these scents were a reassurance, something familiar even though he hadn’t been out of his basket for more than five minutes. His golden eyes watched as beetles scurried away from his tiny hooves out of fear of being squashed. Why were they afraid of him? Had he done something to them?
Come to think of it, many small insects were scurrying for shelter, hiding away and out of sight.
Before the foal could think about it any longer, a bellow of rage came from somewhere behind him. Startling heavily he looked about with his ears forward, seeing only a much larger form of swirling darkness; its glowing red eyes looked wild with insanity as they glared down upon him. The words coming from… her? It must be. They were merely a string of words, mashed together in nothing coherent- curses and exclamations as the dark mare advanced on him.
Terrified at this sudden outbreak, the colt turned tail and fled, tiny legs carrying him with a cold body and empty belly as fast as they could away from whatever that was which lurked within the depths of the graveyard.
--
[[ Thank you for the opportunity, and good luck to everyone else! <3 ]]
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 4:36 pm
Your Name: [ vance ]
Soquili you own/co-own: None at the moment; one custom coming =)
Name for the basket: Oyoac ( "dirty; black" )
Temper: (This wasn't asked, but I thought I would provide it for story context.) Melancholy
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone?: The latter.
Prompt Response: (#1 -- near the end, at least. Most of it is backstory, hope you don't mind.)
Wretched is he who wanders Earth alone, with naught for company but his own tangled thoughts.
Born from darkness, grown in solitude, the only home he knows is the endless road. They call him Oyoac for his black coat, its once-glossy sheen matted with dirt and burrs, for that is all they know; the rest is resigned to hushed whispers and gazes from afar.
They know he appears at random on the roads, a murky form amidst the fog, accompanied by the hollow, lifeless thud of hooves. They know that he speaks to himself: a low, unintelligible murmur as he passes, sometimes urgent, sometimes slow and broken, as if losing and regaining thought. Some claim to have seen him in midnight clearings, yellow eyes blazing through the gloom, rolling madly as he rears and paws at imaginary foes.
They say at these times, crimson smoke billows from his hooves, and his screams fill the air like those of a caged monster. They know he is strange, and they know to stay away.
Oyoac thinks nothing of these others. They are mere breathing ornaments along this walkway, this neverending road that is his life. Since birth he has been on the move, chased by unanswered questions and lingering unease, haunted by the haze of his past. Somehow, if he keeps walking, things will become clear. If he keeps walking, he will find himself. He will find out why at times, the blood boils deep within his veins, sending him into fits of agony and monstrous rage.
He has been walking for a very long time now. Centuries, it feels, with nothing but his thoughts for company through the long winter nights; but even those have ceased to bring him comfort. He finds no answers during these restless years, no inkling of what he is, from whence he came. Yet Oyoac continues, his weary legs steered forwards, as if by machine. It is not purpose that drives him now, but mere habit-- the need to keep moving, to keep walking.
The living world eventually fades to the background, ceases to matter; he has slipped closer to the other side. He finds himself drawn to places of darkness and shade, where life is scarce: dank, mossy caves; charred skeletons of forests; graveyards. The latter especially he finds soothing, to lay among the worn stones blanketed by silence, to feel his weary, troubled soul mingle with those of the dead. There are no secrets here, no questions-- just the utter, comforting finality of death. These are the only places where he can truly welcome the relief of sleep.
Oyoac's travels, one night, lead him to one of these resting places. But something causes him to pause, his ears to flick, as he regards the mist-shrouded entrance. The blood within him stirs, and he cannot explain why, but he does not feel the madness, the senseless rage that usually accompanies such stirrings; rather, he feels magnetized. Something calls to him, beckons to his wandering soul, like returning to the home he never had. His heart thuds as he steps inside, feeling as if he has finally found something he is looking for.
He is nervous. There is no reason for it; this site looks the same as any other, and yet... each weathered stone that he passes, every crack and pit in the parched earth, speaks to him. He hears his name in the rasping calls of black birds above. Something tickles the strings of his memory: a warm, compact space that smells of hay-- then suddenly, all is darkness. Oyoac turns, and sees her.
At first, he does not know what he is looking at. Her form is similar to his, yet she flickers and smokes, tendrils of blackness whipping about her body. Skeletal legs crunch ominously upon the soil as she approaches, a bone mask gleams in the darkness, and he looks into the eyes-- red, and wild, so much like his own yellow ones when he descends into fits of frenzy-- and Oyoac finally understands.
Slowly, he begins to cough and wheeze, which gradually resembles broken laughter as he works long-unused vocal chords.
"So. You have finally come to me... or rather, I have come to you." He takes an unsteady step forward and faces this black vision, this graveyard terror-- this reaper.
"So this is how it ends, after all these years-- not with answers, nor discovery... but with the blissful shroud of nothingness. Yet, I cannot say that I haven't looked forward to this."
Oyoac takes another step and holds his ground, baring himself to the swirling shadows. "Come now, reaper," he rasps, black lids heavy over his eyes, like two dying moons. "Come and take me. There is nothing left for me here."
He is tired, but he is not afraid. For the first time since birth, Oyoac is at peace.
(( Apologies for the length! And hello there, I'm very new to the community. But I plan to become active as soon as I receive my first Soquili, whether it be my custom or-- by a stroke of luck-- the basket from this contest. =)
If that comes to pass, you have my assurances that he will be RP'd. His family lineage/backstory is too awesome not to be! ))
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 6:26 pm
Your Name: Silver_Tygress
Soquili you own/co-own: none
Name for the basket: Ohanzee, meaning shadow
Who will raise the basket, or will the basket face the world alone? He'll face the world alone for the most part guided by the spirits around him and by observing other soquili, begining with his mother then others as he travels beyond his birthplace.
Prompt Response: Prompt 2
Hidden in the shadows the basket remained. The little one was safe and secure within where he stayed for much longer than most other young soquili. There were no reassurances from without to urge him into the world, just whispering shadows and occasionally the babblings of his mother. But he could not remain in the basket forever, one day he would have to enter the world...
That day the colt awoke to a feeling of panic; the basket that had been his cozy haven for so long was suddenly a confining trap. He flailed about until finally the lid of the basket flipped open. Chill evening air and moonlight poured in and he blinked at the light and sniffed the air, promptly sneezing. Less frantic now that the lid was off, he slowly arranged his limbs and finally stood. Alone but for the shadows that seemed to be drawing around him at odds with the bright moonlight, he made his first steps from basket to graveyard. It was awkward at first with only the moonlight to guide his steps on the stony ground, but soon he was walking without too much wobbling.
As he walked the shadows continued to follow him and spoke to him in the whispers he vaguely recalled from his secure days. Suddenly though they went silent and coiled around him sending a shiver through him that the chill night air had not. A spot of darker shadows approached and the colt took a step back as a pair of glowing eyes turned to him and she let out a snort. Born of the place and surrounded by the shadowy spirits just as she was, he was just another part of the graveyard. Perhaps some spark of the responsibility she felt toward the dead was transferred to this new coalescence of spirits that surrounded her youngest child.
There was no real acknowledgement, Brigitte simply turned away and her son followed. No words passed between them in the time he remained with her except for the day she gave him his name. She had been speaking about something the little one could not understand when suddenly she turned those glaring red eyes on him. "O han zee," she said and gave a decisive nod before continuing on with her previous "conversation." Brigitte’s life continued as it always had, the strange mare ignoring the fact that the collection of spirits often following her was soquili shaped and more solid than the rest.
Though Ohanzee learned a lot through observing his mother, most of the time he spent alone with his own shadows. He awoke in the evening and spent the night roaming the graveyard, following his mother, eating, and speaking to his spirits. Then he went to sleep as the sun rose. Deep within him, however, was a growing restlessness, a need for something more, something he could not quite put into words. One day as the sun began to rise, he resisted the urging of the shadows to find a shaded place to spend the day. That line of brightness growing on the horizon spoke to that restlessness within, lighting the world beyond the narrow confines of the graveyard. Even his mother ventured out there at times…
Ohanzee continued to watch until the light grew too bright for him and in pain and afraid of the wide world he raced to the welcoming shade and his shadows. “You can never come back…” the shadows whispered to him when afterwards he dreamed of exploring the wider sunlit world. Deep down he knew it was true, his mother would never let him back once he stepped outside the bounds of the graveyard. For now the little security he had in this dark home was enough to hold his restlessness at bay, but someday he would venture forth and have to face his mother’s reaction should he try to return…
((I hope my use of Brigitte is acceptable. I read and reread her information and the recommended rps to see if this reaction would make sense. If I do win I'm perfectly willing to give him a different history than what's in this entry if her reaction doesn't fit with your own rp intentions. Thanks for the opportunity, Tygress))
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