< atton revisited > The information page for Atton has been fully revised and updated with the new map!
< updated calendar > The Fortuna calendar has been updated in the "Other" lore section! This includes a document which displays the calendar for you to see, making it much easier to understand.
< moving map > The first functional map has been released in the News section! This map is also interactive, allowing you to drag and drop between points in order to determine distances. This is the first iteration, and there's more and better to come!
< first annual awards > The results for the First Annual Fortuna Year-End Awards have been posted! Go and take a look at who the finalists were, and who took home the big prizes!
< new default skin > Our new skin has passed the beta test, and is now the new Default for the forums! If you have any issues with this skin, send a PM or Discord to Mellie.
< human lore update > Humans have been updated with TWENTY-FIVE subraces/subcultures which add numerous options, and a little extra lore and flavour.
< magic lore update > Magical Lore has been enhanced with the addition of a post on Magical Education. From Beginner to Expert, this is how you learn the spells.
< a change to member groups > Member groups are now based on storyline! You can change your displayed storyline by editing the settings in your profile.
Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
The ice was a comforting balm to her soul, almost as surely as the evocation magic that ran through her veins. The lack of warm was something comforting and familiar for the young elf, and always had been. A childhood growing up in warmer climates had always been a little bit too stifling for her, even as part of her would always miss it. She was a being of ice, in her own heart, after all. It spread from her fingertips and clung to her shoulders when emotions ran too high. It was part of her. So yes, it was safe to say that Crissatha Pandora enjoyed Aissic fairly well. [break][break] She had taken great enjoyment from a series of engagements that had proved one after the other to be more fruitful than the last, allowing herself to take a higher class of engagement once or twice for the sake of the bills, though she preferred her little pubs and bars and smaller gatherings. It had been good for her reputation, which she enjoyed spreading and growing as she herself aged and grew, worked on her skills and her music and longed for that… perfection recognition. It sung to her as surely as a true melody. [break][break] So what was it that had her scowling and emanating a low growl that had people backing off, the slight magical effects of her temper only hidden by the already low temperatures of the region? That was a very simple and yet very complicated story that she could not, for all that she tried, wrap her head around. Lianna Lux proved to be the reason in this case. Cris had managed to book a gig that would be fantastic, that would get more ears before her, that she longed for and… she had refused to travel there for reasons she also refused to share. [break][break] Perhaps once upon a time, the increasingly nomadic young elf would have taken off on her own and left Li, hoping to rejoin her later. But she happened to enjoy travelling with her closest friend, even if at this very moment she was having trouble remembering why. Perhaps because Li put up with her best and she was most entertained with the pair of them wreaking havoc. Couldn’t fathom why at all. So they had been warring the past few days about it with no end in sight and Cris had taken to wandering about where they were staying. [break][break] She had even had to take yet another gig here in order to help pay for their rooms. She didn’t ask what her best friend did to cover her side of the rent. She was aware, but she liked to pretend that she didn’t. It was best for both of them. [break][break] It had once seemed a blessing that they got on so well, that they were both temperamental in their own ways but perhaps she was questioning that a little bit right about now. When she wanted to growl and curse but was holding it in. Instead, she was wandering once more—a piece of her soul, that is to say her beloved instrument, strapped to her back as she did. She was attempting to work off her temper a little bit before she tried to convince Lianna again that it made more sense to confront her demons than run from them and try not to consider herself a hypocrite for she was still running from her mother. With good reason. [break][break] But truly, she knew the only real way to work off any sort of temper with her and that was why she had brought her beloved with her. Walking could only do so much and she wasn’t going to punch someone and get herself into any sort of trouble—though that was a thought, maybe if she did they’d have to leave. No, she knew what usually worked best when it came to calming that roaring tempest he pretended didn’t exist because if you asked her, she was made of ice. She had to play. [break][break] So she quite happily found a place that was not too far out of the way, but enough open space that she didn’t feel confined and she sat. It took her some time to tune the strings to fix what the cold had done, but before she could get to worked up about it and cause herself anguish over that, her fingers were working their magic along the strings and she was playing. Not singing. She often didn’t like to sing with her playing unless she was performing and then she reluctantly would add her voice. But playing. A melancholy little tune that suited her mood that she refused to actually express like a normal person.
say hello to something scary
TIME: 6th of the Empty Lanturn WORDS: 797 COMMENTS: woo first post, I apologize, my starters are never stellar
but peace within a raging storm and the serendipity that can be found within the storm
The storm howls and like a beast she purrs; Aissic grants the strong winds a figure of ice and snow, heavy flakes stolen from their feet and made to dance. Lianna watches, fingers twitching in sync to each spin and twist, an innate grace that calls to her--sings to her.
Brows furrow and eyes harden, and like an order nature obeys. The winds swirl and swirl and swirl, until it is a dance no more but an attack; there is no melody here, no symphony but only chaos, whipping and cutting like a dagger thirsting for blood. People scurry to escape into the warm confines of their homes, but Lianna remains.
For what home, does she belong to?
Where is home?
There is a dull ache within her centre, an ache that has been hurting for over 20 long years, an ache that she has been trying, wanting, hoping to null.
(but half of her has been ripped away; and the other half still grieves)
Pulling her cloak tighter around her, she fishes out her tobacco and rolls herself a cigarette, finding the routine comforting. She walks as she smokes, one hand tucking back her hair behind her ear, watching as each exhale is whisked away to join the others. Lianna is waiting—for what, she is not completely sure. But she feels aimless, and the feeling is almost jarring; she is torn, she thinks, she knows, and the decision feels heavy, settling at the bottom of her chest.
Cris wants to go to Rielcia.
(is rielcia her home?)
Lianna refuses—she cannot, will not go back.
Not without him.
She inhales once more and feels the burning end uncomfortably too close to her fingers, and flicks it away. If Cris wants to go, then go, she wants to say, let her fuck off and do whatever she sees fit. But the words are not even spoken and they feel wrong—if Cris truly leaves, then Lianna knows that she will follow.
Even embodiments crave connections; she has already lost one family, she does not think she has the strength to lose another.
With a sigh she focuses her path, and soon hears the echoes of a song, pointed ears twitching, straining to hear the tune. As ever, with her instrument, Cris is transparent—an oddity compared to her usual glacial manner, a contrast in which Lianna finds amusing; but people all have their spots of weaknesses that betray how they truly feel. A small but stark change in facial expression, tone of voice—or in her case, the ferocity of the wind that chases her, stitched to her like a shadow.
She sees her now, and Lianna stops a foot away before she lets herself drop onto the floor, lazily crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands.
”I don’t care what bullshit reason you got,” she barks, throwing discord into harmony, ”I’m still not fucking going.”
She pauses, one brow arched, silver eyes gleaming.
”We’re not fucking going.”
518 lol sorry this was terrible i'm still so fkin rusty
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
Last Edit: Mar 11, 2017 11:15:17 GMT -7 by Deleted
The music swirls around her like a cloak in a winter storm. It calms her, reassures her, buoys her up out of her current sense of anger and annoyance. It doesn’t alleviate the feeling, it doesn’t strike it through its core but it does lift her out of it for long enough that she’s able to find a sense of peace in her heart and feel a bit more at ease. At the end of it, this is why she plays. It’s the heart of the matter, to be quite frank about it. Of course she adores her level of skill and the enjoyment she derives from learning a new instrument or song but that, that emotion… that is the true joy she seeks from her playing. [break][break] Of course, even if Li was to ask her, she would say that it was merely because she is so good at it and she enjoys the music itself. Perhaps she knows the reason, Cris never bothers to ask, why bother? She enjoys the fact that Li doesn’t push her on any of her issues so she does the same. Except when it comes to this one. This one is interfering in her own life. So damn straight she was going to grown. [break][break] And push. [break][break] What is that saying people are always going on about? Speak of the devil? Well, perhaps thinking of it would draw the attention of the person as well because there she was. Cris spotted her out of the corner of her eye even before she came over towards her. She didn’t pause in her playing, she would never do that for anyone. Her music always got first priority, no matter what. Besides, she was annoyed at her best friend at the moment. Like that wasn’t obvious. [break][break] She doesn’t care the reason, she is not going. They are not going. Cris rolls her eyes and finally focuses on the storm made into a person that is her best friend. She just eyes her for a long time with those cursed blue eyes of hers that she now adores as she finishes off the last of her song and instead shifts to absently strumming the strings. And since when do you decide for the both of us she replies, tone as ice, cold. Though she knows why. IT’s the same reason that she’s still here instead of leaving, instead of leaving her behind. [break][break] ”What bullshit reason do you have” she tosses back her own words at her, eyes narrowing, one hand leaving the neck of her guitar to instead prop up her body as she leans back, but there is nothing at ease about the pose. She’s not going to show her emotions, her music already did that for her. And she does not think that any reason her friend can offer will appease that. Li is the only person she’s put up with for a long time but that doesn’t mean she’s going to cut her slack. She wants to get going, she has to make this gig and she intends to do so.
say hello to something scary
TIME: 6th of the Empty Lanturn WORDS: 527 COMMENTS: ohhey
but peace within a raging storm and the serendipity that can be found within the storm
There is a pause—Lianna thinks that perhaps it should be Cris who should be the true embodiment, personification of all that is ice. The elf carries on playing, refusing to be interrupted, and Lianna simply waits. She has known the girl for far too long to expect any different; a friendship as long as theirs demands certain absolutes, and when it comes to music, Crissatha Pandora is not to be disrupted.
This is not a battle Lianna will win.
The melody comes to an end, the tune shifting, slower, softer, effortless. Cris finally rewards her with a roll of her eyes as a reply, and Lianna follows suit, levelling silver against blue.
“And since when do you decide for the both of us?”
Her tone is glacial; eyes narrow and Cris mirrors Lianna’s pose, only there is something rigid about the movement, reminiscent of a beast tensing before attack.
“What bullshit reason do you have?”
More than you know.
It is a standoff; there is a moment where Lianna is tempted to tell her the truth, to shut down this asinine want of hers and just leave it be. But they are not the kind to indulge in secrets, tragic back stories that have led them to here. Wind rustles through and toys with her hair, her skin rapidly cooling to a pastel blue.
”Since when did we have to explain ourselves to each other?” She shoots back, allowing the wind to grow stronger, subtle yet poignant. ”What is it you want, exactly? For us to hold hands under candlelight and whisper about our feelings?”
She tosses her hair back over her shoulder and hardens her eyes to a glare—she is aware that she is losing, but Lianna has always been an underdog, and fighting dirty is not beneath her.
”Didn’t realise you were becoming so soft, Panda.”
She is a breath away from informing Li that the question she reacts so annoyed to is one that the other had asked first. It’s a very near miss, in perfect honesty. She chokes on the words. Childish as they are, she’s tempted to say them. The wind rustles, sings through the air, the best friend making a point that Cris is not the only one who can growl, not the only one who has a tell when it comes to the emotions they both leave unspoken. [break][break] She doesn’t reply, however. She sits and lets the embodiment speak, talk about how they are not the sort to do it, to talk about how they’re feeling, to braid each other’s hair as it was and she resists they urge to roll her eyes once more. Li is just as aware as Cris is that the very idea would make her gag at the best of times. She simply doesn’t understand this reluctance to move forward and head somewhere that is a change of pace, somewhere she can further her goal and further her reputation, make it more well known just how damn good she is. It sounds selfish but she doesn’t quite care. [break][break] If it were any thing else, she would agree to pass it up, but this is big. If it were anything else she would agree to stay here longer. Aissic is a place that calms her, with its ice storms and freezing winds, with its constant snows and frosts on the windows. She feels at home here, and at home where no one notices if she has lost her temper because how could they notice a bit more ice in a place that is full of it? And now, to answer the unspoken question, she is well aware of how to stop it from happening. She’s old enough, trained enough, but she enjoys the shivers. [break][break] Thoughts are dismissed and eyes are narrowed at her best friend’s accusation. It is more at the fact that she called her soft. It is also at the fact that she called her Panda a nickname she despises, though that’s more out of habit than any real annoyance. It is long ago that she came to terms with the fact that she has no intentions to stop calling her that so it was better just not to care. ”I didn’t realize you were a chicken Bug” she tosses back at her. She’s not sure what the reason is but maybe the reaction will clue her in. Is she really afraid? The girl who plays as if nothing can touch her? [break][break] Cris isn’t sure. [break][break] ”I’ve every right to know why you are fucking with my career” she says, in the end, after a moment of thinking about what she wants to say. There, the unspoken truth that they travel together. There, the unspoken truth that she is truly annoyed by this delay and would likely lose her temper without her usual habit of keeping everything to herself.
say hello to something scary
TIME: 6th of the Empty Lanturn WORDS: 517 COMMENTS: psh never a worry. go with the muse
By Reesa for the Ice B*tch
Last Edit: Mar 13, 2017 17:32:36 GMT -7 by Deleted
but peace within a raging storm and the serendipity that can be found within the storm
“I didn’t realise you were a chicken, Bug.”
It is a fatal bullet—the words resonate within her, and she can feel her control start to slip. The storm howls once more, only she does not purr; allows herself to be devoured, to let the winds whip and tear and destruct.
It is on the tip of her tongue; malicious little comments, comments she would ordinarily not hesitate to unleash.
It is an Auran’s curse. Hurricanes by nature are strong, power enwrapped by force, but by the same string they cannot be controlled. It is Lianna’s blood right to be wanting for chaos, to lust for carnage. Her temperament is pandemonium—with difficulty she swallows her poison, her pride, and struggles for calm. Instead slowly arches a brow, teeth grit, body rigid: this is a warning in its rawest form, animalistic in its intent. Careful, now. This may be a game they are playing, but there is a line that must not be passed.
She exhales. Slowly. Deliberately.
Waits for the storm to pass.
There is another pregnant pause.
“I’ve every right to know why you are fucking with my career.”
Lianna bites her tongue once more—what career. There is something fierce and terrible within her, fighting to escape, eligible to come forth, but she inhales, exhales once more, and lets the lie swallow deep, smothering it until it is nothing but tendrils of smoke.
As much as she refuses to go back, her need to for this friendship runs deeper.
”Don’t fuck with me,” she drawls, lips curling back to show teeth, ”you know neither of us have any rights when it comes to each other.”
The solution is so simple: tell Cris the true reason, tell her of Elijah, of his death, of his wretched little death that truly killed her too. Tell her that it is simply too painful, that it has taken twenty long years to overcome the hurt, that it will take one simple visit to unravel all that she has accomplished.
But to say is to acknowledge, and Lianna refuses to allow it. Her brother is dead, her parents never wanted her, and that is a truth she’d gladly bury.
”Gigs come and go, and I’m saying Rieclia is a fucking shit hole.” Her words are blunt, but her tone is softer—it is almost a plead. Almost.
”Cris.”
Even softer; nearly a whisper. There is something urgent in her eyes, an ambiguity that demands to be listened.
It is a fatal bullet she has launched, she can see that just by looking at her friend. Fear. Fear she understands. Fear races in her bones whenever she’s shut in a place too small, leaks in the form of ice to crawl along the walls she gets too close to, always too close to. Fear she understands. Fear, Li doesn’t want to admit she has if the anger of the storm that’s threatening is any indication. She watches with cold eyes as Li gets herself under check. [break][break] She watches, ready to anchor herself down if Li doesn’t. [break][break] She waits to see what the outcome of this will be. Wonders who will budge. Knows she won’t any more than Li will. [break][break] It is a meeting of two tempers. This isn’t the first time but by her estimation it’s one of the worst. They’re two strong personalities. Usually that allows them to sail happily along next to each other, unspoken truces and agreements flying as silent white flags alongside. But every now and again… every now and again she wonders why they thought they were able to make their personalities work as best friends. They do. Of course. But it still zings and stings if she lets it. [break][break] If they manage to let lose something that can hurt the other. [break][break] A pause before she speaks once more. [break][break] She snorts at Li’s answer. After a moment, she snickers. After a longer moment, her fingers start to stir on the strings again, playing little melodies that come to mind. No rights with each other? She shakes her head and doesn’t answer. She has no answers. What answer can she give something like that? She will go. She has already decided she will go. It’s something that is anchored deep into her. It’s a big gig. An offered gig and not one she sought out as they were passing through. A rare honor she will not pass by. [break][break] ”It’s not a shit hole, I’ve been there” she replies, absently, her voice more lost in the music than present, music she began playing again to keep herself from losing her temper. She’s not the sort to do that if she can help it. She is ice. She is frozen. She is trying to keep from launching any more bullets. She is ice but with Li she remembers Arianna and what it was not to be so harsh and cold. It bothers her to let someone in like that. So she focuses on the melodies instead, twsting them into little songs. Distressed and angry little songs but little songs. [break][break] Sharp as nails and biting as ice little songs. [break][break] CRIS. Her name. She glances up and arches a brow, fingers never slowing, she doesn’t need to look to play. She’s been playing for decades now. We are not going. She shakes her head. It’s too much for me to pass up, Li” she says. If she were a different person she would plead. If she were a different person she would relent and allow for such a thing. Another gig. Li is afraid. But she’s not a different person. And she holds on to little hopes every time she plays. It’s time to move on for her.
say hello to something scary
TIME: 6th of the Empty Lanturn WORDS: 549 COMMENTS: lol Cris isn't being much more normal. Trying to get used to her older, and steadier xD
but peace within a raging storm and the serendipity that can be found within the storm
The blue haired elf snickers, a crack in the ice, followed by soft melodies—a welcome distraction that Lianna gladly listens to, focusing her anger to dissolve amongst the harmonies. Changing the course of a storm is not an easy feat, but alas the winds begin to still, slowing and relaxing in sync with the music.
The both of them are far too stubborn, too temperamental to ever truly work, and she supposes it is a wonder that they have made it this far.
(she supposes it is because they are too stubborn that they have persevered, an irony she chooses to ignore)
“It’s not a shit hole, I’ve been there,” Cris replies absentmindedly, and Lianna’s eyes flicker to where the true focus lies—watches as the elf expertly strums the strings, the swift change from soft to sharp melody not going amiss. It is not an answer she expected; for the first time she thinks of their friendship a curse, not the company but the rules they hold as their manifesto. No need for details, no need for anything remotely akin to intimacy. It is a blanket of secrecy which Lianna has previously admired, but when it comes to times like this, times where she is at risk of losing her closest friend, her only friend—her mind is reeling.
The anger dissolves; panic takes its place.
There is no use of an ultimatum, even Lianna knows that. She is aware of the importance of her friendship to the girl, but again, when it comes to music, Cris will kill rather than save.
The shake of a head—her heart drops.
“It’s too much for to me pass up, Li.”
There is no use of an ultimatum, so Lianna will not give her one.
”Then I guess this is it, Cris,” she murmurs—she will not allow her voice to falter, will not allow herself to show hurt.
I am being abandoned once more.
Lianna arches her back, head lifted high; takes notes from her dear friend, and allows herself to freeze into ice. She is glacial in the way she regards her; if Cris refuses to give in, then neither shall she.
She supposes this is for the best, after all. How silly of her, to think her loneliness would ever have an end. How naïve of her, to think she deserved anything but.
”I’m never going back to Rielcia.” She speaks like it’s an order, an order she cannot refuse. Lianna shrugs her shoulders, eyes lowering just for a second, more than enough, before settling back to bright blue.
”So if you’re going, I guess that’s it.”
She has already survived so much, surely she will survive this.
468 jk uno she comin with
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
Last Edit: Mar 14, 2017 14:04:54 GMT -7 by Deleted
She was the dream, the swirl of consciousness that came, enticing, with the still of night; the hood of the stars that impelled the droop of heavy lids, the waking of the mind in all it’s wonder for the world, dulled in consciousness but alive in slumber.
She did not dream.
But she had dreamt.
Her meditation had gone astray, her mental wanderings brought to a spontaneous recess, her search, her perpetual search, for the dim light of her mother’s pondering mind brought to a halt by the stirring of the dreamscape.
This was none of her nightly intrusion; no midnight seduction of some unwitting psyche. She didn’t enter this dream willingly, a participant; she was pulled into it, intangible body yanked into physical existence, a world materializing around her in the once-bare plane.
There were trees, endless trees, and the flora and fauna seemed to crane towards her, leaves wide in her direction, as if Solana herself were the source of the light that fed them. Buds sprouted, stems thrilled in the wind; and she knew this place, knew the soft sod that cradled her soles.
Niseca.
Home.
Solana stepped slowly into the clearing she had materialized into, that the plants craned for, and the turf underneath her feet dewed. Silver eyes dipped, catching the flow of a gentle tide just beginning to wet her toes.
The clearing was a lake; and the forest did not face her, but another, so much like her, with a shock of dark hair brushing the small of her waist, olive-toned fingers kissing the ripples caused by her searching feet. Though not the vision of allure Solana was, her shadow, the elf was beautiful in her half-hidden grief, the way that the water seemed to caress her skin as she sunk into it, cupping the curve of her waist, clinging, desperate, to floating tendrils of dark hair.
The woman paused, so briefly, and the forest around her hushed in hopeful anticipation, knowing the turmoil of her warring mind.
Solana stepped forward, eyes on the figure so near to her own mirror, lips parted; was this the dream she searched for?
The woman heard the footstep, soft as it was; or felt it, in the subtle reaction of water’s fold. She turned, dark eyes catching the sterling of her daughter’s.
Mom –
But no sound issued from desperate lips, and Wyynter’s eyes did not rest on Solana, but drifted past her. Seeing nothing.
This was no dream Solana had been thrust into.
It was a memory.
There were soft green stems arising from the water, slipping along bronze skin, embracing slender arms, the slope of sunkissed shoulders as they dipped beneath the water.
Solana Heiralei watched as the ivy held her mother underneath the water, dark eyes blank on the sky.
She watched as her mother shuttered, body resisting the ensnaring flora, neck craning for air as the frantic mechanism of instinct rebelled against her fatal mind.
Solana discovered that, seated in the ride of memory, sharp nails could not cut. Magic did not shock the life from creeping vines. Arms held no strength to raise a body sinking slowly into the water.
But tears still caused ripples in too-still water.
Only in death did it seem that dark eyes saw Solana.
The elf was yanked from the memory with little aid into the harsh of reality, the sting of emotion still tugging at silver eyes.
But now she was angry.
With nowhere to go, the sudden onslaught of necrotic energy jolted through stiff muscles, and the elf grit her teeth against the wave of agony, worse each time she stole the life from someone unsuspecting, and it only served to feed the fire of her fury.
She felt helpless.
Was it a true memory she had stumbled upon, a skill new to her magical arsenal? Was it the fretting of an anxious mind, too long plagued with the absence of her mother’s spirit?
But the voice, the voice that spoke to her, guided her, in a whisper…
Too unsuited to the puppet-strings of moving emotion, Solana rose and strode out into the cold air, the brisk of wind a welcome distraction from unsure nightmares.
She hopped atop her black stallion, rode.
And rode.
And rode.
For hours, it seemed, she galloped through the frigid air; in reality a swift forty minutes, far enough into the barren wasteland of ever-snowy Aissic that she didn’t expect the stir of voices on the wind, the dance of smoke lost quickly in an icy breeze.
It seemed she wasn’t the only one running from something.
Kept toasty enough by the cloak wrapped snugly about her shoulders, she spun her horse to the stirring in the distance, the poor beast still sluggishly shaking away the cobwebs of sleep.
” – guess that’s it.”
The voice was low, the words dipping at the end of the clipped statement, leaving no opening for opposition. As she strode closer, wind stilling in an eerily obedient way (some magic commanded it here, she thought), Solana heard another voice, though it took her a moment to realize it was not the woman before her.
This one had the same cadence, the same brusque quality to it.
This one was male.
Tell her to stop blaming herself.
This one was inside her mind.
For a moment, she considered speaking back to it, but it seemed silly to speak aloud to a voice that wasn’t real; and so she squinted at the form half-lost in the wind, no more than a hundred yards from the restless form of her midnight horse.
He spoke again - She won’t go because the place stinks of guilt to her; guilt she doesn’t deserve.
Silver eyes narrowed, and her own mind flickered, a response, hand clutched away from the twin forms in the snow she knew to be trouble brewing.
Who are you? ( – and what? she wanted to ask, but the extent of her knowledge was best kept a mystery, far better to be assumed wise than ignorant… )
Her brother.
Quickly-numbing lips muttered a curse; he was dead, and as likely to haunt her as he currently did his sulking brat of a sister. Her mentor from centuries ago had told her of the ability some necromancers possessed to speak to the dead, but, honestly, had never cared much to test the magic. What could the dead say that would interest her?
Just tell her to let me go.
Another curse.
Was it worth the trouble to go over there and meddle in a spat of a few squabbling children just to rid herself of an obnoxious ghost?
Then again – what could a few squabbling children really do to her?
With a miffed snort, she spun her stallion to the shifting shadows – two women, it seemed, and both elven.
Perhaps not squabbling children…
But still not her problem.
The horse was swift, trusting enough of her after several months together, but tossed it’s head at the look of the shifting blue girl on the right – not all elf, that much was clear, but with a harsh shht from it’s master, the beast subdued, eyes still wide with harsh whites.
There was a moment of silence that hung in the air, falling as slowly as the snowflakes suspended in the slow dance of time about them, and the sterling of Solana’s eyes met their twin in Lianna’s.
Yes. Her. Tell her I do not blame her.
She shifted her eyes swiftly to the other – the one who was truly an elf (or so she seemed, but she was clad in near-nothing, out here in the snow…) – before jetting back to their mirror in little less than a second, appraising.
She lifed a chin, her hood falling, dark hair whipping in the wind; a vision of the shadows with bronzed skin and the midnight halo of whipping tresses, ebony cloak fading into ebony steed –
"I'm not here to get involved," she prefaced, eyes flat with potent disinterest, "but he doesn't blame you, so stop blaming yourself."
With that, and the leading tug of bronzed fingers, the stallion spun away, mane whipping in synch with his rider's.
And tell her I love her, he said.
Anyone ever tell you you're damn needy?
[attr="class","solnotes"]W O R D S 1435
T A G @crissatha
N O T E S I honestly don’t even know you guys I was bored at work and just kept...... writing.......
[attr="class","solbreak"]
[attr="class","solfooter"]TEETH
[attr="class","solbreak"]
[attr="class","solpic"]
[attr="class","solcredit"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0
Cris has plans. She has ideas of how these things should go. [break][break] But, as usual, it seems that life has plans of its own. [break][break] Well, life is a bitch who needs to mind her own business. [break][break] Cris long ago vowed to turn herself into ice. Solid, unfeeling ice. Arianna had broke. Allowed people to walk all over her, shut her up, lock her away. She had let herself be a broken little puppet, nothing more than something to be molded by the people in her life. She was soft. Loved the one person who is not allowed to be hers because he isn’t tied to her with the red strings of blood and silvery ties of genes. Allowed love to sink into her bones and her very being only twice to lose it, have it ripped from her along with some pieces of her very self. If some being up there decided to put ice at her fingertips, than she would lock it over her heart as well and this is what she’s done. She’s allowed it to grow over her. Perhaps it’s not wise but… [break][break] She has lost a best friend before. Though she still carries him in her heart, allowed to return to him whenever she sees fit as long as he still remains where she has left him behind. At least this time it is mostly her own choice, isn’t it? She is the catalyst. It is not the words of the other bidding her to leave. Of course it is her own choice. She will carry Li in her heart too. This parting is no more permanent to her than the last. It is nothing she will allow herself to feel. Perhaps if she had had a softer influence in her life… another Merria to find her lost heart strings and pluck them but no. No. It is better this way. Always better this way. She should have known better than to… [break][break] So why is it that her fingers play a sad tune? All full of lilting notes that sing of sorrow and angry partings. She hums along with it low in her throat as she waits for her answer. She waits for the verdict that Li will deliver in reaction to her words. Her music is important to her. This show is important to her. This possibility that he—oh no. She will not sing that note. That forbidden melody that zings along the outer ridges of her mind. She will not ruin her career as she once did for the sake of feelings and her heart. [break][break] Even ice can break but she’ll play that tune later. [break][break] This is it. She says it at a low murmur and Cris looks up to meet the eyes of her friend. She had a feeling. She has braced herself. She is fine. She wouldn’t have bothered to keep arguing with Li about it if it was fine, she would have simply left She has been alone before. She will won’t miss Li’s entertaining snarky comments, her wild winds, wondering if Li’s watching her play or there to pickpocket the crowd. She will be fine as Li continues to speak. If she’s going, that’s it. That’s in apparently. A sigh might escape, but she refuses even that little tell. She nods. You’ll miss me, bitch”[/b[ she forces instead before someone else interrupts them. Before they are stopped by an interloper. [break][break] A fae, that much is clear after a moment of looking. Her focus is mostly on Li, which makes Cris arch a brow. She tries not to think too hard about what her friend did for a living, to tell the truth, but wonders if this has something to do with it. The new comers gaze transfers to herself for a moment and Cris arches a sardonic brow, asking what and not flinching. Same silver as Li, now that’s fun. Either way, something’s up so with a sigh, her guitar is slipped back into her case and she sits back, waiting. She’s not a patient person but she does a good job at pretending to be. [break][break] In truth she’s itching to find out, though mostly she’s itching to curse at the other woman. What? It’s just her natural inclination. She gets along better with men. [break][break] And then the words are delivered. He doesn’t blame you so stop blaming yourself. The other brow is arched. ”Well that’s fucking cryptic” she mutters to herself as the other woman turns to go and that makes her unable to refrain from speaking up. It doesn’t really matter to her that it wasn’t aimed at her. ”Wow, you just look so fucking cool delivering that message and then riding off into the metaphorical sunset,” she can’t resist the snark. As Arianna she was too quiet. As Cris… well, she snarks. She readies herself. If something will happen, well, she may be a bitch but she’s a bitch with a friend. A bitch that will get back to the earlier conversation about leaving said friend later.
say hello to something scary
TIME: 6th of the Empty Lanturn WORDS: 851 COMMENTS: weirdo that is Cris. @liannalux Solana Heiralei
By Reesa for the Ice B*tch
Last Edit: Mar 16, 2017 15:43:38 GMT -7 by Deleted
The skin OTHERWORLD was made by JAWN of WICKED WONDERLAND.
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