❝⌘▁𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬 - o p e n !

[dilly]

♛ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕧 𝕠 𝕝 𝕜 𝕖 𝕣 ﴿

svartalfheim king | 16 | mustang | tags ; brigitta

Rarely would he have ventured so near the edge of the sheer cliffs, but the morning had demanded it of him. Snow was falling heavily, the mournful winds were howling, and the gods had left him with nearly nothing. His lead mare had gone to be with the gods after an agonizing battle against the years, and there were no colts or fillies in Svartalfheim. Brigitta remained, miraculously, and even now, he kept her in his sight. He could not risk her straying too far, and with the strange spring squall threatening to become a much more dangerous storm, he was determined to keep his remaining mare protected. The cliffs were humbling enough even on a dry summer’s day, but now, with the sea raging below and the wave-crashed rock vaulting high above, the edges bearing that dangerous gleam of ice, there was nothing that would convince the king to wander out of the vast fields toward the yawning drop-offs. Almost nothing.

A red hawk was circling high above, disappearing in the grey mist and then appearing again, drawing slow, careful circles in the snow-blind sky. Breaking free of a restless sleep, Volker had known in his roiling gut that there was a message out on the cliffs. No message from the gods was to be ignored, no matter how terrible the news. And it could only be terrible news, the somber roan knew; but it must be faced. And so, he had made his way to the cliffs, the wind snatching fistfuls of mane and cutting through his scarred coat. Keeping his mare in sight but ensuring that she herself did not approach the dangerous edges, he now stood with his head lifted, ears perked through his smoky mane to stay fixed on the circling bird. The white of its underwings blended into the blowing snow, breaking the monotony of dismal white with its black barring. Splashes of ruddy red came into view as the hawk descended, and Volker could feel the weight of its message even before he could read its face. Grim determination kept the stallion standing in place, his dark tail whipping about his slightly-sunken haunches. The bird brought itself level with his face, reaching out with its great talons to tear at his forelock. Run.

The gods had always been crystal-clear and abrupt with Volker, and he had learned to accept their sharp, even punishing tone. If an imperative was given, he was simply to follow. They might have taken much from him over the years, and they might have demanded more than he felt he had to give, but they had also watched over him, in their own way. He had somehow always persevered. At the cost of favored mares, or promising young colts, but who was he to question them? Turning on his heel, filled with a flaming energy that contrasted the bracing cold that had cloaked the land, he returned to his elegant black mare, a low whicker issuing from his pink-snipped muzzle. “We’re to leave, love,” he murmured, brushing his muzzle to hers gently, letting out a warm breath. “Odin’s own storm is upon us.” He cast his careful, dark eyes up to the sky: their best chance of evading the storm’s violence was in Drasil. The message-bearing hawks were always to be trusted. Breathing in the mare’s scent, readying himself for the treacherous direction fate had pointed them toward, he closed his eyes. The other three kings of Elysian would be there, no doubt, with what was left of their herds. The stallion was struck by a pang of shame – his herd had not been blessed, and he had only shambles now. He was going to protect his single mare as fiercely as any stud would defend his thriving band, however, and he lifted his head with a hardened gaze. For as cruel as the gods could be, he always showed them deference, and he always persevered. This would be no different.


♣ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕣 𝕙 𝕠 𝕝 𝕚 𝕠 ﴿

jotunheim herald | 9 | brabant cross | tags ; jotunheim herd

It was terrible – there had been so little food to eat! The winter had dragged on, and now, when the robust stud felt it should be nearing its bitter end, the promise of rich, lush grass nearly within reach, it seemed to be promising instead another devastating blow. It was disappointing enough that their meek cave was not filled with the curious squeals of foals, and that the mares looked so worn by the season’s scarcity. Rholio had seem mares grow thin throughout the winter before – for some it was simply natural – but this was different. The gods were truly testing them now, though he could not imagine why. Spectre had taken care of them to the best of his ability, and they were all cooperating together to make it through this storm; as far as he knew, there had been no offenses made against the ever-watchful deities. So why this terrible storm? A long, slow breath rolled through the bay stud’s nostrils, his thick forelock falling across worried eyes. Spectre and Nana had brought them safely to these sheltering caves, and while he was grateful that they were no longer receiving the brunt of the storm’s foul temper, the stallion was feeling cramped. He longed to be back out in the forests, fulfilling his duty of patrolling and watching for predators, his meaty frame carrying him soundly on large, pounding hooves. He could reliably chase off the scavengers and his size was enough to intimidate those who thought themselves strong; they would often think again. It was a sacred duty and he felt he was at his best when he was in that role, proving his use to the herd at large, aptly dispelling dangers and threats. It was something altogether different when the unpredictable sky itself was out to harm you.

His tiny ears perked above his curly black hair as he heard Spectre’s murmuring voice. What would he decide? He would leave that decision to Nana, Rholio knew – and that was for the best, as she was a wise, sensible mare who would not be driven by panic. They were safe, they would push through this trial, and the big stud lowered his head. He was hungry and uncertain, and uncertainty made him want to eat, and his stomach grumbled unhappily as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. But then his friend was speaking louder, clearly allowing his voice to echo for the rest of the herd to hear. Drasil? Ears perking again, Rholio watched the pair curiously; Drasil would certainly be a change of scenery, and perhaps it would escape the storm’s fury. Excited by the possibility of a respite, the stallion whickered in agreement to the idea, bobbing his head and then looking to the other mares. Who wouldn’t want to hurry away on a spontaneous vacation?


✻ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕒 𝕦 𝕟 𝕖 ﴿

jotunheim valkyrie | 6 | dutch warmblood | heat ; 3 | tags ; jotunheim herd

The chill was reaching her even here, huddled in the cave, and the fact that she had never grown a thick winter coat was not playing in her favor. The snow was beautiful, that much was true, even when it came slashing down in white daggers as it was now. It still seemed to glitter, and rolling gusts of wind would still send it spiraling dizzily across the sky, and if it hadn’t been so blisteringly cold and if they’d had an abundance of food, it might have been a lovely sight to behold. As it was, the winter had been callous and they were all thin; already tending toward the lean side, the young mare was feeling especially delicate. She could feel the stretch of her rib cage with each breath she drew in, and the way her skin pulled across the curved bone. Her hips, rounded with muscle in the exuberance of summer, were angled and her flank was pulled in tight; she was morose when she thought of the luster her coat had lost. With a moody huff, she swiftly adjusted her outlook: perhaps winter was not so glamorous after all.

Shivering a bit, due as much to the cold as to the foreboding pressure of their situation, the mare kept an ear trained on the stallion. How long would they be captive in this cave, while the storm mounted its senseless attack outside? Whisking her tail, agitated not only by their uncomfortable reality but by her growing heat, she made a noble effort to keep herself calm and collected. A laughable concept, really, given her volatile and excitable nature, and as soon as Spectre’s voice grew loud enough to hear, she let out a whinny of approval. Anywhere other than here, even if it did mean a trek through the biting wind and snow. Drasil would be a lovely place to spend a bit of time, if not the entire duration of the darned storm, and she pawed at the rocky ground beneath her with a small, sharp hoof.


⚜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕜 𝕖 𝕝 𝕕 𝕚 ﴿

lone valkyrie | 5 | few spot appaloosa | heat ; 2 | tags ; open

With snow collecting rapidly on her mane, the young mare was beginning to realize that a sheltered spot to wait out the storm was in order. The snow was not softening – rather, it seemed to be coming down more forcefully now – and the winds were not gradually receding. They were howling out of the sky like a ragged cry, and the mare pushed on with a lowered head, her eyes squinting against the piercing snow. Red legs clashed brightly against the white ground as she crunched onward, her muscles bunching with a sense of unease that was growing as rapidly as a weed. What if she did not find a sheltered place in time? Where was she, anyway? These felt like the last thoughts of a typical mare lost in winter, the kind of story that was told across the land during the hard seasons: if you became lost, you often did not find your way back. Gulping back these gloomy thoughts, the mare tossed her mane to rid it of its coating of snow, the red hairs mingling with the white, sending up a brief sparkling cloud as she trotted worriedly across the wind-whipped plain.

She would need to find trees, at least, though the problem then became predators. She would find no safety at the roaring sea, she knew, or up on the deadly cliffs; the options were few, and becoming fewer the longer she waited. Would the storm in fact draw on and on, or was she just being pessimistic? She did not know, and she wished she had a companion to confide in, but the facts were before her: she was alone, and exposed, and unguided, and unprotected, and all four of those things needed to change. She was likely to find company if she came across the right spot to wait out the storm, and her freckled face creased with determination as her ears flicked at the prickling snow. She was thin but not incapacitated, and for as uncomfortable as she felt, she trusted that the gods made their plans without mistake. She would find her way, though across her vision everything was a blaze of white. She acknowledged the ache in her heart: she was practical and not prone to fits of drama, but she did wish for a friend. Or a stallion with a good heart, but she felt assured, somehow, that she was not destined to end her journey out here like this. The gods might be unhappy, but this was not where her story ended, and so she pushed on with blind faith, nothing familiar to mark her directions but a faint glow in her heart, simmering just enough to keep her taking one step after another.

[CaffeinatedLlama]

♛
ＴＥＱＵＩＬＡ
[mare] [twelve] [heat: 3] [wary] [muspelheim]
[lead mare] [tags: herd] [mentions: ferox]

storm clouds rolled like giants in the sky, so black they they were almost purple. the light was dim, the air eerily silent and devoid of wind. a smallish herd stood closely together, nervous with anticipation of what was to come. a dappled mare stood warily amongst them, eyeing the brutal clouds as they threatened to break and release all hell upon the earth. she pinned her ears before letting out a questioning whicker towards a large bay stallion who was standing protectively nearby. the group’s territory was pretty ideal in normal conditions- plenty of food & water, the only main downside being the predators that frequented the area- however in a snow storm like the one that was brewing, their home could become deadly. the mountainous hills when laden with snow were deadly, often causing avalanches that had the ability to cover their grounds in mere seconds, killing whatever lay beneath. Tequila had seen enough winters to know what those clouds meant, and it was hard to deny that the air was just colder by the hour. She nickered to the rest pf the herd, calling them in closer together so that if they needed to leave they could do so, and fast. With a shiver she looked back to Ferox, awaiting his confirmation. Usually she could make this decision on her own, however the stallion was cautious and usually liked to have an input in situations such as these.

♛
ＣＡＬＬＩＳＴＯ
[stallion] [eight] [mood] [niflheim]
[herald] [tags: herd] [mentions: herd]

text.

[na'vi.]

« 𝘝𝘌𝘚𝘜𝘝𝘐𝘜𝘚 »
──────────────────────────────────────
stallion ⋅ 23 ⋅ messenger ⋅ earl ⋅ mares. duvessa & leucothea
loc. drasil ⋅ mood. weary ⋅ tags. duvessa & thea ⋅ ment. herds
──────────────────────────────────────
The winter still had a frosty, biting, grip over Elysian. He and his two beloved mares, Duvessa and Leucothea, had moved into Drasil for cover and in the night huddled together for shared warmth. As somepoint during that time Vesuvius had bedded down, the mountain of a stallion laying on the ground with his legs pulled close to his black and white frame. His head held arched, lower lip drooping lazily, and his breath coming in large white clouds of air from the warmth. His rest was unproductive, he was left with the same weary and cautious feeling he had for the past several sun rises and sun falls. Something was coming, what it was he wasn't sure but the moment the feeling prickled his spine he ushered his mares to outer edges of Drasil. Even in his age he was still a force to behold and young earls and even kings knew not to trifle with him or his two beloved mares for despite his age he was still a formidable opponent. The gods had been ever kind to their messenger. The reigning Kings, two of his sons included, were likely deep in their own territories hoping to hide away from the horrid weather and their trip here had been luckily void of confrontation, yet still unease sat heavy in the stud's old bones.

Tiny feet belonging to a bluebird danced across his painted pelt and in return the stallion flicked an ear, slowly opening his eyes as to adjust to the early morning light he peered at the bird inquisitively. They were his favorite birds to have carry his messages. Pretty little things they were, bright blue feathers all over with a tiny black mask just above their face. He would send them in small flocks to spread word of the gods. Vesuvius lifted his head, curling his neck and lipping at his side a small group, five or six blue birds, amassed on his frame. Their plump frames breaking through the thin layer of snow that fell on his thick pelt in the night. His dark gaze flicked around now looking for his mares. Leucothea's frame met his gaze first, next it was the alarming absence of Duvessa. Within a matter of seconds Vesuvius stood, his tail slapping against his hocks and nostrils flaring in an attempt catch the grey mare's scent. Both of them were intelligent mares and he knew that Duvessa wouldn't amble away without reason but there was always an archaic instinct within Vesi to know where the two of them were and to keep them close by his side. If something happened to either of them it would likely be a loss to great for the stud to bear. They both came with him when he stepped down from Muspelheim, he was bonded to them both in way that was too great to understand.

His worries were soon extinguished as Duvessa's frame broke the horizon, a warm whinny left the stallion as he stood. She was walking with purpose- his suspicions about her receiving a message had proven itself fruitful. Though when she told him he felt his bones chill and his brows furrow softly. He didn't question what she heard, he never had, but worry was ever present for his two sons that were tucked away in their own territories. Unaware of the dangers that waited for them in their own homes. His stomach twisted but he pressed his muzzle to Duvessa's cheek with a soft whuff of comfort, he moved she and Leucothea ever closer together before he sauntered just a few steps away. The stallion stood quietly in a clearing of snow before a bellowing neigh rumbled from him. Within moments several birds came to Vesuvius, the same small flock of blue birds perched atop his back, a single swallow, a red hawk, and another flock of cardinals perched atop the stallion's robust frame. While he preferred the company of other animals, namely deer which always enchanted him, birds were the quickest and most reliable way to spread word. The swallow would go to Jotunheim, the bluebirds to Niflheim, the cardinals to Muspelheim, and the hawk to Svartalfheim. Hawks were never his favorite to send, they preferred the direct route to get the messages out but he would use what he was given. "The storm torments your homes with death. Heed this warning heavily, Kings, come to Drasil if you wish to survive." The message left his velveteen muzzles as he spoke to the birds, the exact message wouldn't be passed along as each bird would say it differently but the key parts were there. With that the stallion shook them away, circling around in the snow in tight circles as he watched the swath of birds go their separate ways.

With his messengers sent his stomach eased the slightest, his sons would have ample warning- he only hoped they would listen, and bring their valkyries and angels to Drasil. They did all they could and with that Vesuvius made his way back to his own two mares, his ears perking at Leucothea's suggestion to head farther into Drasil. They were just on the outskirts of it and he agreed softly letting the cremello mare take lead he fell in behind her but his ears flicked back to Duvessa. His path forward paused and he circled back, nudging her shoulder gently he peered at the mare inquisitively. "My love there isn't anything more to do, worrying will do no one favors." His tone was soft and warm towards the grey mare. He knew she would still worry, the three of them would always worry when storms rolled through for their collective children but there was little the could do other than their part. The rest laid in the hands of the gods, he could only hope Loki didn't rear his ugly head and play cruel games in the midst of the storm.



« 𝘋𝘈𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘙𝘠𝘚 & 𝘔𝘐𝘋𝘈𝘚 »
───────────────────────────────────────────────
mare/colt ⋅ 5/1wk ⋅ lone valkyrie ⋅ heat. stage 2 ⋅ herd. none, yet
loc. svartalfheim cliffs ⋅ mood. panicky/terrified ⋅ tags. none ⋅ ment. volker
───────────────────────────────────────────────
One slip was all it would take for Daenerys to be ripped away from her little champagne colt. The palomino mare's blue eyes flicked about wildly, as if searching for something amidst the blackness that was her world. She could feel her son by her, her frame shielding him from the treacherous cliffs that she struggled to navigate. It had just been a few days ago since she successfully evaded the resident king of Svartalfheim once again but amidst her escape and the unrelenting snow she edged too close to the cliff side and away from the exposed meadows. She was indeed hopelessly lost among the sheer cliffs, her own scent lost in the howling winds and heavy snow. She wouldn't have been so scared of the cliffs if the earth under her hooves hadn't been transformed from steady, peaty soil, into slick mud that threatened to make you lost your footing at any given chance. Still she persisted forward, her white mane being whipped around by the unrelenting winds. Daenerys took a ginger stop forward, giving soft whickers towards Midas who stood trembling by her flank to encourage the colt forward.

For several moments she made headway, she was tailing the resident herd, luckily standing downwind from them she could smell them but they'd be unable to smell her, or her colt. However luck couldn't always be on the blind mare's side and it seemed as if time itself seemed to slow down around her as one of her front hooves slipped over the cliff. An almost roar like scream sounded from the sabino mare as she slipped. Her reactions were quick as she shoved all of her weight backwards, nearly sitting down she skidded for a matter of seconds before her frame stopped. She could feel the rush of warm wind coming from the ocean that slammed against the cliffs and a shaky breath escaped her muzzle. Her heart pounded in her chest as her nostrils flared. Dany sat frozen for several moments, locked into a nearly paralyzed state by the fear that gripped her heart. A warm, velveteen muzzle, that touched the curve of her rump broke her from her trance. The longer she skirted the cliffs the more she risked losing the last piece of Atreus she had left. She would have no choice but to pull away from the cliffs and risk being seen by the resident King. Surely she could defend her son from the King? She could. She would have to, there would be no other choice if the King decided to be aggressive.

"Step back Midas, I'll be fine. Everything is okay my darling." The words were delicate, and her voice was rich like gold, smooth like silk, but warm like the summer sun. Despite her young age she was a doting mother, and spoke as if the champagne colt by her side hadn't been her first foal. Her reassurances seemed to work though as the small colt circled back, the leggy little thing trembling as snow fell delicately onto his pelt, while she couldn't have see anything around her she imagined the entire ordeal was terrifying to watch. Carefully Daenerys rose, each move of her movements cautiously thought out. She would freeze at every move of a pebble but once the mare was on all fours once again she leap away from the edge of the cliff, her ears flicking back as not seconds after her hooves left the rocks you could hear chunks of the stone falling into the ocean below. The water greedily took in the earth, swallowing chunks of it whole as its dark blue waters slammed against the cliffs. Dany picked her way over to her colt, running her muzzle along the foal's body, letting out warm whuffs and reassuring rumbles she nuzzled him affectionately, before nudging his hip and walking away from the cliffside. She could smell the herd ahead and her ears flattened just the slightest. She would edge as close to them as she felt comfortable before stopping seeing as she had effectively sandwiched herself between them and the cliffs. Danger came from all sides, but she would persist.

When the scent of the stallion grew ever fresher she came to a standstill, pivoting her body so she stood between the herd and her colt she tended to her foal dotingly. They needed a momentary break, even though Midas had eaten just moments ago the colt suckled frantically- a stress response. Daenerys stood patiently, curling her head around she licked at the colt's rump gently. There was never a time more than now that the mare wished desperately for her sight- even for a few moments she wished to see what her colt looked like. Did he look like her sun and stars, Atreus? Or did he take after his dam with her golden palomino pelt that had been painted with white? Her heart ached for a few seconds before it returned once more to its usual warm fullness as the soft sound of Midas suckling greedily eased her own sorrows. She let herself slip into a small bubble of their own, grooming Midas' pelt affectionately she had her back turned to the King who was surely nearby and amidst her tender moments with her colt hadn't noticed the shift in the winds that betrayed her position- now carrying their scent to the herd instead of vice versa. If they hadn't heard her earlier they would surely smell her by now, but amidst the rush of adrenaline and insuring her foal was safe everything faded away. She was blissfully niave to the fact that staying behind then was no good now, even if the howling winds has managed to conceal her terrified scream from moments ago the scent of them was something not so easily hidden.



« 𝘙𝘐𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘠 »
──────────────────────────────────────────
mare ⋅ 13 ⋅ lead mare of niflheim heat. pregnant, mid spring
loc. niflheim > drasil ⋅ mood. worried ⋅ tags. Arkyn ⋅ ment. herd
──────────────────────────────────────────
Snow blanketed Ripley's pelt as she stood, leg cocked under her frame and head hanging sleepily as she dozed. The herd stood huddled close together and she could feel the warmth from the other members of the herd radiating around them. The smell of the salt still in the air was always welcomed by the dappled mare and a warm sigh escaped her as she was roused from her sleep. With a great shake she freed her pelt of the snow and licked at the frost that formed on her muzzle. Her gaze drifted around everyone and she noted the absence of Arkyn, with a heavy sigh she looked towards the ocean shore and felt the soft tingle of worry stir in her belly. He was always watching the waves, reading the sea for what it had to tell him. Aegir was violent in the recent days, she was sure that was why they had moved into one of the fields away from the shore.

For a few moments Ripley thought about joining her beloved King, to pick his mind and ease his woes but the dappled mare opted to stick with the other valkyries and angels. She lowered her head and moved the snow aside with her muzzle, plucking away blissfully at the tender spring shoots that just began to grow before the terrible storm. They were still sweet and packed with nutrients she was sure to need soon. Aegir may have been violent, but he was kind. She was soon to foal but thus far she hadn't felt even the slightest pain of labor. Perhaps she was in the favor of the gods this season and would foal after the storm? One could hope. Regardless she let the worrying thoughts slip from her mind as she grazed, taking advantage of the quiet moment in the morning. The wind whipped at her mane and tail while she did so but winds were normal in Niflheim and her silky hair simply seemed to float in the wind as she stood idly by.

The peaceful grazing was interrupted by thundering hooves from the distance and within seconds Ripley's attitude shifted from happily grazing to an over protective mother. She shifted her posture, working her way around the group of valkyries and angels she purposefully put herself between the others and the direction of the sound, her head raised and ears perked. Pregnant or not she wouldn't let one of her counterparts end up in harms way. Her warm chocolatey gaze searched fro Arkyn or even Callisto but when neither stallion fell into her vision Ripley opted to lash her tail against her hocks. While she was pregnant she would reek of Arkyn and she quietly hoped if the oncoming equine were some foreign earl that her scent could deter their pursuit. Her steely gaze only wavered from the horizon to glance at the small flock of bluebirds that flew and chirped lazily overhead. Vesuvius. The sight of the forest birds calmed her immediately and she stilled, bluebirds one came this close to the sea when they were sent. With that she took a soft breath, only to be further reassured when Arkyn's frame broke through the mist.

Ripley could almost feel the agitation that came from Arkyn's frame and immediately the mare was suspicious but she accepted the soft touch to her neck warmly, pressing her own muzzle to his shoulder affectionately. He would explain what the birds had to say, if they had to say anything at all. He wasn't one who got agitated easily, but his words sent a tight wash of fear over her pelt. She stepped forward from the small circle of valkyries and angels, her ears flicking inquisitively. "Are you sure Drasil is the best place to go? I don't doubt Vesuvius' message but what if this message was sent to more herds than ours Arkyn? All of the other Kings, if they are smart, will set their herds on the path from Drasil." Her worry was clear as she spoke. She spared a glance towards the other mares, before her gaze returned to Arkyn as he called out for their resident herald. With a soft snort she reached out to lip at his mane softly. She might question the decision to go to Drasil but with Arkyn and Callisto both by their sides the other Kings and any other Heralds would be foolish to try anything.

With a soft sigh she relented and as Callisto resurfaced she began to move forward, her tail lashing at her hocks as she did so. Within a matter of moments she quickened her pace from a walk to a fast trot, her breath coming out in white clouds against the cold air she was hesitant to leave their home, to leave the sea. Her trust in the gods has, admittedly, been the weakest out of them all but she trusted Aegir the most of all the gods and his violence on the shores was something that truly worried the mare. The trip wouldn't be pleasant given the weather but they could make it to a nice stream to rest at before night came.

[haru ;]

✦ ＴＥＭＰＥＳＴ ＯＦ ＳＥＶＥＮ ＳＥＡＳ . ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━ role; 七海, lead mare of jotunheimx ` location; going to drasilx ` tagged; spectre, the herd


indentationnanami heard it before she saw it.
indentationsnowstorms always sounded a certain way — like a mass of swirling, howling white destruction, one that could send a dart of fear straight into the bravest stallion's heart. nana shifted her weight from one leg to another, muzzle tilting up towards what vastness she could see of the horizon from their vantage point within a cave of a jotunheim mountain, and while a subconscious movement, she knew deep down it was one borne on a deep-seated anxiety. it didn't matter whether it was the fear of losing her herd or the pain of their deceased progenies. for the first time in a long while, nana felt her heart pick up in a sprint, a tightness in her chest that simply wouldn't go away, and she concluded with a sort of silent finality that she was well and truly worried.
indentationgods, how may we get through this? is this cave really the best option? nana asked herself. it was a question so typical of the lead mare — there were no 'whys'. only 'hows' and 'what now'. it was as if the mechanisms in her brain were oiled and ever-turning, never faltering in processing and analysing and producing, seeking out the safest method for the herd to wait out the storm in one piece. she had long claimed that sole responsibility as hers, and having been born in elysian she had come to know its lands intrinsically. nana's elegant neck swivelled round to face her lovely partner and lead stallion, spectre, whose face bore an expression not quite different from her own. it was one of concern and trepidation. she knew because she was brimming with these very feelings now, for every single one of them were famished and thin and so maddeningly cold. snow clung to her pelt, though apparently soft and fragile to the eye, possessed a mind-numbing bite that chilled her to the bone. at this very moment, the wind whipped any potential solution away from her brain just as how they tugged relentlessly at the silky strands of her mane, turning rather un-silky now the more she stood in the open, regarding spectre with a small furrow between her brows.
indentationshe couldn't help but look beyond him at the other horses of their herd. they were all significantly thinner than usual, so much so the faint curves of their ribs stood up against their pelts. even spirited aune seemed much more subdued than usual, and the magnificent rholio with his thick bands of muscle looked shrunken in size as he stood starkly silhouetted against the cave wall. her jaw clenched. she hated feeling weak. despite her nagging urge to say something, nana simply watched spectre quietly, for his eyes had adopted the same gleam they did whenever he was about to speak.
indentation"moon of my darkness, the weather is terrible, isn't it? my mane will never get untangled in this wind. how will I aspire to be the prettiest of us all now?" his following question was rather unorthodox and one that momentarily stunned her, but even nana had to acknowledge his ability to stir up humour even within the seemingly bleakest of solutions. she whinnied softly and brushed her muzzle against his neck, though the sound was quickly lost on the wind. "that might have been true, if you were the prettiest to begin with," she taunted lightly, flicking her tail in a display of playfulness not many ever saw coming from the lead mare of jotunheim. spectre's words might have been an attempt at light-heartedness, but she could clearly see the worry simmering beneath it, and it deeply pained her. she could not let him shoulder that burden alone. the herd's lives was in their hands, and nana would do anything to see that they could make it to first light the next morning. her gaze darkened as if a sombre veil had been tossed over her head, and she turned away from spectre briefly so he couldn't see the fear in it.
indentationwhen he raised the proposal, however, nana's head whipped back towards her partner, ears suddenly erect. "it may be more than just a change of scenery," she began. spectre must have had received a sign from the gods, if in any case he wished for them to move to drasil. yet a glimmer of pride stirred within nana that he sought her opinion and regarded her in so high a regard. nana immediately straightened, her proud neck arching towards the cave ceiling as she looked at every horse of jotunheim in turn. "i agree," she said finally. "in the current state of events, drasil is our best hope of survival. being such a mountainous territory, jotunheim is most prone to potentially lethal avalanches. i say we make haste for drasil, and godspeed."

✦ ＡＴＬＡＮＴＩＳ＇ ＣＲＡＤＬＥ . ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━ role; angel of niflheimx ` location; going to drasilx ` tagged; ripley, the herd


indentationmost likely with her dam ripley. if it's alright, i'm changing her name to nimue !!

[evixtus]

ＦＥＲＯＸ ♛
xxxx ❝ king of muspelheim | age; fifteen y. | location; muspelheim > drasil
mares; tequila, siv | progeny; runa | tags; herd | mentions; vesuvius, arkyn, volker, spectre

Muspelheim was never known for the amount of fallen powder that resided on the ground. Instead it involved humid temperatures, which is what was to be expected by the testy, yet so far dormant volcano of Surtr. The sudden change of weather caused many to fall sick to the change, leaving the king of Muspelheim with only three of his members. His lead mare, Tequila, was strong as ever, Siv, the valkyrie that gave him his beloved angel Runa. With the loss of many mares, he was now one of the smallest herds, Jotunheim was the largest at the moment, and it made his blood boil. But as the snow littered his bay pelt while he huddled with his mares for warmth, there was a peculiar chatter in the frozen skies.

The cardinals were arriving. The Messenger Vesuvius, who also happened to be his father, always sent cardinals to Ferox when there was danger lurking in the shadows. He arched his head, ears perked high as he nickered for the birds, letting them know of his location. The familiar claws on the rise of his withers soothed him, while another set sat atop his poll. The small flight animal relayed the message, one that sent a shiver down his spine. Drasil is safe, avalanches may be upon you. Save your remaining family, and evacuate. They whispered. He shook his neck, sending the cardinals fluttering off through the snow-laden branches. The idea of returning to the neutral territory, where The Chosen resided was not one he was fond of. He would enjoy seeing his father again, and perhaps catching a glimpse of his half-brother Arkyn, but having to deal with Volker of Svartalfheim and Spectre of Jotunheim made the large bay stallion lash his plume against his hips. But as he thought about it once more, there was a chance he could angels of other herds to join his.

He noticed the worrisome look from Tequila, and he moved closer, brushing his velveteen lips across the ruse of her spine. "We must move to Drasil. Lead Siv and Runa, I will follow tails. Predators are hungry with this weather, move swiftly, my love." He gave her a nudge to the cheek, letting her know the time to migrate was now. Raising his knees high to move through the thick snow, he pressed his chest against Siv's shoulder, lipping her mane comfortingly, and then nuzzling Runa's neck as they followed Tequila through the trees.

ＬＥＵＣＯＴＨＥＡ ✜
xxxx ❝ the baptist | age; eighteen y. | location; drasil
status; heat 2 | progeny; n/a | tags; herd | mentions; others

Her cremello pelt was flattened against Duvessa's as they lingered together for warmth. Behind them lay Vesuvius, comfortable for once in his elderly years. Though her stallion did not need such protection, the baptist felt a need to stand guard while her companions rested. Her head held low to the ground, her pink muzzle sifted through the falling snow resting on the line of the cave. She was startled slightly out of her trance when Duvessa left the shelter of the cave, but as she passed, Leucothea knew not to interrupt.

The whisperer radiated a certain energy whenever she was receiving a vision. Knowing well not to disturb her, she waited for the moment Vesuvius would rise in a sudden panic of where his other mare went. As the sabino stud rose to his feet and let out a concerned whicker for her, Thea ran her muzzle along his crest with a relaxing disposition, alerting him of what was happening. Soon enough, the wise Duvessa returned, and the cremello gave her a loving nuzzle.

The messenger birds were sent to each king, which signaled Leu to take the lead. "We should move farther inland, wait for the kings to arrive. I'm sure there are those who look for guidance." When both of the other equines agreed with her suggestion, she pivoted around, leading the way to the lake. As each hoof was raised, flowers erupted from the snowy soil, signaling that the chosen, where, in fact, on their way.

ＪＯＣＡＳＴＡ ☁
xxxx ❝ valkyrie of niflheim | age; thirteen y. | location; niflheim fields
status; heat 2 | progeny; heat 2 | tags; herd | mentions; others

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ＢＲＩＧＩＴＴＡ ♣
xxxx ❝ valkyrie of svartalfheim | age; twelve y. | location; svartalfheim cliffs
status; gestating | progeny; expecting | tags; herd | mentions; others

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ＡＢＥＬＩＡ ❀
xxxx ❝ valkyrie of jotunheim | age; nine y. | location; jotunheim
status; foal heat | progeny; deceased | tags; herd | mentions; others

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[lynettetan1]

Spectre
10 Years Old~Jotunheim King
Mentions: The Jotunheim herd
Tagged: Nanami, Rholio, Abelia and Aune

The retort was swift and light, delivered with a gentle touch and a flick of the tail. Playfully letting out a soft yelp as if he was wounded, Spectre stepped lightly to the side, looking hurt. However, he couldn't keep it up for long, and he simply let out a quiet chuckle, nuzzling her back gently before staring out across the horizon, with her in his periphery vision, the way it had been for about three years now.

Nana stared out into the distance, before turning away, and Spectre knew not to look over. He loved everyone in his herd dearly and was always there if they needed someone to turn to, and Nana was no exception. But he knew in moments of trial, especially in moments like these, Nana was a mare that was more comfortable the less others knew of the struggle. As such, he would not probe. She was the most sensible out of all of them, and whilst she had a penchant for wanting to shoulder a lot of the burdens, if she was really out of her depth, she would come to him and they would work it out together. In that way, they were a lot alike, though Spectre didn't really seem like the type.

Though many saw her as cold and distant, Spectre knew full well what motivations burned underneath that dappled pelt, and knew that woe would come across anyone who underestimated just what she would do for the herd. Nana was fiercely protective, and anyone who assumed that she did not feel the sorrow of the herd's struggles and the loss of the young ones would be foolish indeed.

It was why they were drawn together, after all. Though they were so different, they would both protect the horses that had chosen to trust in them, and ensure their wellbeing no matter what. The past three years had resulted in an implicit trust held between them, and it had not been a small factor in ensuring their survival despite being the youngest leads in Elysian.

It was also why he waited quietly for Nana's answer, even as Rholio and Aune showed that they were in obvious agreement, their spirited whinnies bringing a smile of fondness to his muzzle. He did not rush her, knowing that she was weighing the pros and cons as he had just a moment before, calculating as she looked at the other horses in their little ragtag herd.

The journey would be a rough one. With them up on the caves, they had to be careful not to slip as they made their way down, and whilst there would be much needed food in Drasil, shelter would be hard to come by in the valley. The winds and snow they had fleed from would have open access to tear into them as much as they'd like, and it might be possible that they might have to find others to huddle up with against the cold-and Spectre knew full well that he might not be fully welcome. The other Kings were also proud and preferred to stay in their own territories. Ferox, in particular, had a big ego and might not consent to them coming so close, even if it was to save each other. Ferox and Arkyn would definitely band together if it came to it, being half brothers, and Volker was a stickler that held firmly to tradition. None of them viewed him particularly well, but that was his problem. At least they'd be dealing with horses and not an avalanche.

It wasn't a particularly accurate choice of words to call it a vacation, but Spectre knew the value of words and humour. Words phrased in a certain way could influence a mindset, and after all they had been through, the herd would not do with thinking of more death and gloom. Words were often empty and optimism nothing without an opportunity, but there was something to be said about the way that hope lightened the heart, let someone keep going for just one breath, and then one breath more.

As such, when Nana agreed, logically stating the benefits, Spectre nodded. He took a step forward, pressing his nose gently against her withers and nibbling at some of the snow that had crusted there, picking it out gently. "Lead us on our way, then, love." He simply replied. The slopes were precarious, but Nana was astoundingly surefooted, and he could think of no one better to lead them down. As long as everyone followed the path that Nana stepped in, they were almost certain to reach the bottom safely. He would be at the back to make sure no one else fell behind, so he stood close, letting his warmth transmit his trust and his love. "I'll look forward to once more standing by your side when we reach stable ground."

With that said, he took a step back, making sure to angle his frame so Abelia could see him and therefore read his lips. "Well then, we have our destination set for drasil. Let's all get some food, I think I'm hungry enough to eat the twigs off of some trees." With an amused chuckle, he moved to Rholio. He could sense the hunger and uncertainty in his friend's frame, and he let out a friendly whicker, nosing the other in the chest teasingly. Rholio had been an almost constant companion over the years, and Spectre liked to imagine that this would have been how he would have treated a brother, back when he was younger. "You're still big enough to fill this cave, though, so I'm not too worried. Go after Nana and guard the point. We'll tide through this yet."

As he said so, he looked toward Abelia, scraping his hoof across the stone floor before tapping his hoof twice in a quick pattern. It was a sign they had devised since childhood, a way to communicate with each other, and it was an effective one, especially in Jotunheim, where vibrations travelled clearly and quickly through the stone. Catching her eye, he moved closer, nuzzling her and pulling her closer. She'd been through a lot. She'd had a precocious little youngster a few weeks ago, and despite being born in the winter, it'd put up a fair fight. Spectre had hopes that it would be the one that pulled through, but it seemed like the snowstorm had other plans, and the hope he'd held quickly faded away with it's fall. Abelia was soft and motherly, in every way fit to be a dam, but never quite able to keep the foal from the dangerous precipices of Jotunheim. In any other circumstance he would have stayed around her, tried his best to lift her spirits, but with the traveling to this cave and being trapped by a snowstorm, it had become something quickly shoved away, but he was not willing to let it be pushed aside even further as they headed to drasil without yet giving it voice. Even now, as he moved close, the smell of her foal heat permeated the air, as if to accent their loss. Taking a step back, he looked right at her, so she could see the expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Lia. Let’s head off, I’ll be just behind."

To be honest, he was a little hesitant to go towards drasil with all the mares in heat, but in the top of a cave whilst they were precariously finding their way down was definitely not a good time, so Spectre simply let that slide. He'd do what he'd have to later, right now he was more concerned about keeping them alive than he was about whose foals they would carry. Gesturing for Rholio and Abelia to move on after, he then turned toward Aune.

She was huddled in the back of the cave for warmth, and as Spectre moved forward, he brushed up alongside her, helping to warm her up a little. To any other horse, Aune would have looked nervous, anxious and just about ready to bolt, but to Spectre and the others in Jotunheim, they all knew that as far as this went, this was her normal. Aune was frequently turned and tossed around by her own emotions, and in fact, Spectre would go as far as to say that this was actually her when she was quite controlled. "Let's walk together, try to warm you up." With Aune, it was best to give her directions, something to do.

Her body was incredibly fit, but her mind was often all over the place and did best with a simple task. Usually, Spectre would be quite overjoyed to just follow her mind wherever it went and get taken on a journey. After all, being with Aune felt remarkably like he was living on a live wire, and what was the point of living if you also didn't have fun here and there? But here, on the edge of a cliff, it would be best to focus her. As such, he urged her on, and rounding up the back, he let out a neigh to Nana to tell her to set off.

Runa
2 Years Old~First Heat, stage 1 just beginning~
Mentions: Muspelheim herd
Tagged: Siv, Ferox

The moment Runa'd shifted closer Siv had swung her head around to help her, and though it did not help much, her heart warmed, and Runa snuggled a little deeper into her mother's flank. There were many times when Runa looked toward the horizon, excited for new things to discover and the very real possibility of going out and meeting other horses and exploring new lands.

Finding out how others thought, how the world looked... All those ideas brought a thrumming to Runa's hooves and an ache deep in her that called for her to start her journey now. But at times like this, with Siv by her side, and the gentle call of 'my dear', Runa also had to admit that there was a certain part of her that would simply like to stay forever.

Her words of assurance also brought a lot of comfort, and despite the knowledge that they were starving and the biting cold, Runa did have to admit that she felt a little strong. "Thanks, ma." She simply replied, nuzzling her mother affectionately. No matter how far she went, Runa knew that there would always be a place in her heart for her home and the horses that inhabited it, from her assured and knowledgable mother and her brave, strong father, even to stoic Tequila-though Runa would admit that Tequila scared her a lot of the time. With that in mind, Runa groomed her mother with a happy little nicker, overcome with the reminder of how much her mother had done for her. Would she be able to do the same for a little one in the future? She honestly wasn't sure.

As Ferox came to them, almost in response to Siv's words, Runa perked up, her ears flicking forward in curiosity. "We're moving?" She asked, looking at her father. He was not one that liked to leave their territory, nor did he particularly like to, so this was a rare move. Still, the thought of traveling did bring that ache thumping a little stronger in her heart, and Runa felt like her voice had come out just a tad excited.

[CaffeinatedLlama]

♛
ＴＥＱＵＩＬＡ
[mare] [twelve] [heat: 3] [wary] [muspelheim]
[lead mare] [tags: herd] [mentions: ferox, siv + runa]

The clouds were faltering, snow escaping from tiny cracks in their almost black barrier. The wind had picked up too, howling it's haunting song as it blew the ice particles around the small herd, like a scene from a snow globe. It wasn't bad yet, but in a few hours the conditions would be comparable to hell's deepest chambers. Tiny snowflakes clung to Tequila's eyelashes, mane and tail, and her already speckled coat was accumulating even more by the minute. Her ears flicked forward to greet her stallion as he approached, giving his mane an affectionate nibble as he told her what they were to do. Shivering, she flicked her tail before nickering to both Siv and Runa, making sure they were ok before heading off as she had many times before in the location of drasil. She had no doubt that other herds would gather there too, and she would have to be on high alert to try and protect her herd as best she could, from other stallions and predators alike. Wolves and other predators got very desperate this time of year, and in their hunger crazed eyes, a younger less experienced mare like Runa was nothing but a meal, and despite the 3 adult horses protecting her there was always the possibility that she or any of them could be harmed. The other dangers were stallions- herds and lone mares clustered together in such tight conditions would mean fights breaking out everywhere, and although both Tequila and Ferox would do their best to ensure the safety of both Siv and Runa, anything was possible. Her gut clenched as she thought about the possibility, and her ears pinned briefly in determination. It wouldn't happen. She wouldn't let it happen. Snow continued to fall as the group picked their way out of their home, carefully as their hooves made footprints in the ever thickening cover that lay on the ground like a white blanket. Four horses on their way to salvation or further danger- only time would tell which.

♛
ＣＡＬＬＩＳＴＯ
[stallion] [eight] [wary] [niflheim]
[herald] [tags: herd] [mentions: arkyn]

The sky threatened to break, it's purple clouds rolling and twisting. A feeling of apprehension and wariness hung in the air, thick enough to be cut with a knife and strong enough to be tasted. A dappled stallion stood a little way off from a small herd of horses, lead by yet another stallion. They were preparing to move, and Callisto was preparing himself for what was to come. They were to head to drasil, and the fact that there would be other herds and males around made him nervous. Other stallions meant competition and fights, and his job was to protect the mares in the herd. Arkyn kept him around to help with managing threats, but also because of the fact that they had been in the same bachelor band, with the older stallion taking the newly exiled colt under his wing as a mentor. Callisto was forever grateful for what Arkyn had done- taking him in when no one else ever would had saved his life on countless occasions, however he had never actually had a herd of his own. There would possibly be lone mares around, and that meant a chance to start his own herd, but he didn't know how Arkyn would react to that. He'd just have to see what would happen. His ears pricked up as the older stallion called out to him and he whinnied in reply before picking up a trot behind the mares, keeping a look out for any potential dangers.

[lynettetan1]

@evi: I’m going to just kind of assume Abelia can read lips so she can see what you’re saying if you look right at her, if that’s not okay Ill edit that haha

[dilly]

♛ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕧 𝕠 𝕝 𝕜 𝕖 𝕣 ﴿

svartalfheim king | 16 | mustang | tags ; dany & midas

A scream – the roan king came to an abrupt halt. His head instantly shot up and his ears swiveled, first back and then forward, and then back again as it became clear that they cry had come from behind them. A strange cry, one betraying a horse in immediate danger, and he could not leave it be. Turning himself around, bearing his weight to brace against the hammering winds, he turned his head to assure his black mare that he would return shortly. To have her wander onward would invite disaster, as the furious tempest around them was only going to worsen. He was loath to leave her standing alone even for the short time it would take him to lope back towards the cry, but his soul would not let him turn away. Arching his neck and laying his ears flat, he pushed himself forward into the storm that was vengefully chasing them out of Svartalfheim. Despite the hawk’s warning and the greedy progress of the blinding snow, he could not abandon the cliffs yet.

The banshee winds were disorienting, and the snow was rapidly becoming an impenetrable shroud, but he knew he did not have time to waste a single movement. Brigitta would be waiting, and they had no room for error in their retreat to Drasil. The storm was upon them, all of Odin’s mute wrath unleashed, but the bull-headed stud could not turn a blind ear to that scream. Outside of the fact that it was his sacred duty to protect all of those within his realm, stranger or not, something itched in his heart, weary as it had become. The painted mare; could it be? She had evaded him for weeks, if not months, as reliably as the midnight stars vanish in the coming light. Perhaps it was a foolish risk now, determining if the cry indeed belonged to her, because if a single hoof had landed incorrectly while traversing the icy cliffs, she would not be saved. The fall from such a sheer, ruthless height was not one a horse could be healed from, and he knew it, but he was not to be dissuaded. The scent was thick and traceable now, blown directly to him as if to encourage him forward. Pushing onward, ears straining to filter relevant noise from the howling gales, he soon spotted the stragglers.

A mare, the gold of her coat shining against the blank canvas the snow now made of the land, and a foal. Both standing still, by all accounts safe from the danger that had provoked the scream that gave them away. It was her, the elusive valkyrie; now standing silent, his thick mane blown in tangles across his neck, Volker regarded the pair with each deep, hot breath. They puffed from him in brief clouds, wrestled immediately into the wind and snow, and with pensive eyes he studied the mare. Young, but she must be wise, too, to have slid through so many times out of his sight and grasp as she maneuvered the plains and cliffs of his kingdom. Now she was here, likely trapped in this precarious position by the sudden storm, though he did not make to seal her fate with any haste. There was no need.

Taking a series of slow, careful steps across the freezing ground, he shifted his eyes from her only long enough to take in the foal. A paint, like his dam, and the stallion decided it must be of a strong constitution to have successfully traveled by its mother’s side all this time. Or perhaps the dam herself was a fierce, determined soul, but regardless of how powerfully determined she might be, she could not linger on the cliffs like this. Not only could he not allow it, but they would not survive. Lifting his nose, he sent a warning whinny in their direction – the pair needed to move, quickly. A flush of warm pride swept through his veins alongside his troubled blood; she had not escaped him entirely. Now was no time to bask in the conquest, however, as he needed to see them off the precipice. “First Bragi conceals you in my meadows, and now Loki traps you against my cliffs,” he called uneasily, his tail sent whipping and blowing about his hocks. “You have distracted all the gods here.”


♣ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕣 𝕙 𝕠 𝕝 𝕚 𝕠 ﴿

jotunheim herald | 9 | brabant cross | tags ; spectre & nana

At last, they were to be free of the cave – the burly stallion met his companion’s words with a chuckling whicker. It was no place to keep a hungry, worried herd, even if the cave itself provided some reprieve from the billowing winds and shrapnel of ice and snow. His own muscular frame and thick coat would provide him enough defense against the terrible weather, and he held himself as tall as he could as he was given his directive. He was looking forward to a solid meal of rich spring shoots, to be sure, but he was also relieved to once again have a significant role to fill. The trek down out of the caves and off the mountain would be treacherous at best, but he was going to see to it that there were no casualties. Not now, not when they had a haven of a destination in mind, and he gave his friend a consenting bob of his head. “We’ll be out of Jotunheim before this storm can really start,” he agreed with a grin, striding powerfully for the mouth of the cave. Nana would guide them true, and with his keen eye and alert ears, evil-doers would be given no pass to take advantage of their vulnerable position. Their path would be rocky and slick, but with Nana’s cool demeanor and his own wide feet to break hoofprints into the crusty ground, they would blaze a sure trail for the rest.

Confident, he stepped out of the cave and into what was becoming a blustering storm, snow whizzing past his eyes and immediately catching in the waves of his black hair. Tossing his head and shaking his neck, the great crest wobbling as he rid himself of any tingling misgivings from his thoughts within the cave, he fixed a proud gaze on the lead mare. He took his position in the herd quite seriously, and was prepared to see the worried herd down into the safety of Drasil. If that was where Spectre believed they could best resist the storm, then Rholio would plow an unwavering course there. If Nana agreed, he was especially devoted to the task; after all, Spectre could be a bit whimsical and free-spirited, but Nana was grounded and serene in thought. Her judgement would not be colored by silly, flaring emotions. Giving the mare a courteous nicker, he stepped carefully in beside her and began immediately to scan their surroundings, and the track they were going to make down through the slick mud and rock.

The other kings would be there, the stud suddenly realized – the other kings, tense and worried and possessive of their own herds. Pushing so many unfamiliar bands together was bound to create an uproar of some kind, but the lumbering stallion was not afraid. He knew his calling and he was going to uphold it: protect the mares of Jotunheim. Luckily they were all of a noble spirit, and able to defend themselves for the most part if need be, but he intended to never leave them in such a fix. He could even entertain the notion of confronting one of the brash kings, if it came down to it: it was an anxious thought, undoubtedly, but it filled him with a surge of determination that was proving useful now as he took each calculated step, managing his hefty frame with at least some measure of grace, his breath coming in thick, white puffs as he concentrated. The mountains were not kind to those who let their minds wander too far.


✻ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕒 𝕦 𝕟 𝕖 ﴿

jotunheim valkyrie | 6 | dutch warmblood | heat ; 3 | tags ; spectre

In the anxious mare’s mind, Drasil was a summer paradise: somehow exempt from the whims of nature and its wild seasons, it was, for her, a lush emerald meadow; it was a bowl of sunshine, completely hidden from slavering wolves and altogether free of deadly white storm clouds and destructive winds. Wouldn’t it lay quietly in the dappled shade of branching trees, wildflowers dotting its plush blanket of green? A cool, gentle lake of blue like the sky’s own twin? Maybe Drasil could be that wonderful place. It would have to be, in order to draw her out of the cave’s meager warmth, and she held the flickering image in mind as her laid-back king appeared at her side. Meeting his eye with a wide, expectant gaze, she flicked her tail from haunch to haunch, only hesitating for a moment before skittering forward and out of the cave.

Spectre’s words acted on Aune with smooth success, for the most part: if he spoke with carefree certainty and gentle teasing, she was sure to believe him. At least at the forefront of any given situation, and as she trotted out into the snow, she allowed his simple suggestion to calm her. Her ears briefly relaxed, her breathing gradually softened, and her feet slowed to a controlled walk beneath her. The anxious, energetic dancing was for the moment stilled, and her worrying appeased. They were moving swiftly for Drasil. Or, she was moving swiftly, at least; like any capricious breeze, her nimble mind jolted and she felt the rude tickle of snow against her nose, and across her withers, and soon all along her spine, and it sent a shiver across her ribs, twitching through her flanks. Her head came up and she flared her nostrils, her knees reaching higher as her feet pranced. The mountainous ground could not be counted upon to be always smooth and stable, but in spite of the dangers, she let her poorly-held energy control her movements. Remembering Spectre, she brought her gaze back to the king, a nicker trembling free of her nostrils. He was a comfort, but he had also always been a playmate, and it could be a challenge to balance the two, especially in such a demanding situation.

“Once we’re off these rocks, can we run?” she asked hopefully, eager to not only unleash her quivering energy, but to escape Jotunheim as it disappeared into the ravenous storm. She wanted him to chase her, and to give chase, and she bucked her head at the thought, flagging her tail as she struggled to keep herself from racing forward, even through the bodies in line before her, diligently making their way down. Hurry, hurry!

⚜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ﴾ 𝕜 𝕖 𝕝 𝕕 𝕚 ﴿

lone valkyrie | 5 | few spot appaloosa | heat ; 2 | tags ; open

With snow collecting rapidly on her mane, the young mare was beginning to realize that a sheltered spot to wait out the storm was in order. The snow was not softening – rather, it seemed to be coming down more forcefully now – and the winds were not gradually receding. They were howling out of the sky like a ragged cry, and the mare pushed on with a lowered head, her eyes squinting against the piercing snow. Red legs clashed brightly against the white ground as she crunched onward, her muscles bunching with a sense of unease that was growing as rapidly as a weed. What if she did not find a sheltered place in time? Where was she, anyway? These felt like the last thoughts of a typical mare lost in winter, the kind of story that was told across the land during the hard seasons: if you became lost, you often did not find your way back. Gulping back these gloomy thoughts, the mare tossed her mane to rid it of its coating of snow, the red hairs mingling with the white, sending up a brief sparkling cloud as she trotted worriedly across the wind-whipped plain.

She would need to find trees, at least, though the problem then became predators. She would find no safety at the roaring sea, she knew, or up on the deadly cliffs; the options were few, and becoming fewer the longer she waited. Would the storm in fact draw on and on, or was she just being pessimistic? She did not know, and she wished she had a companion to confide in, but the facts were before her: she was alone, and exposed, and unguided, and unprotected, and all four of those things needed to change. She was likely to find company if she came across the right spot to wait out the storm, and her freckled face creased with determination as her ears flicked at the prickling snow. She was thin but not incapacitated, and for as uncomfortable as she felt, she trusted that the gods made their plans without mistake. She would find her way, though across her vision everything was a blaze of white. She acknowledged the ache in her heart: she was practical and not prone to fits of drama, but she did wish for a friend. Or a stallion with a good heart, but she felt assured, somehow, that she was not destined to end her journey out here like this. The gods might be unhappy, but this was not where her story ended, and so she pushed on with blind faith, nothing familiar to mark her directions but a faint glow in her heart, simmering just enough to keep her taking one step after another.

[unnamed]

━━( 𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐘𝐍 )━━
the stallion of niflheim · 14 years
location: niflheim - drasil · tags: ripley, herd · mentions: the chosen

Arkyn was aware that Ripley was perceptive to his agitation as she always had been, capable of reading him without issue. Of course as any who'd been a part of his herd could tell you, the king of Niflheim was an open book to the mares loyal to him. He was a defender, raised by his mother and father to protect those around him and with that mindset had come a certain level of defense, a way to always appear strong and immovable. Regardless of his steely demeanor there was a certain tenderness that his mares brought forth from him and exposed to their gentle touches and assurances he melted, allowing his frustrations, concerns, and joys to be visible to all. It was how Ripley learned him and why the gentle touch to his shoulder seemed to ease the nervousness of the large stallion.

With the mares together he eased a bit, confident that their closeness brought security and despite the worry in Ripley's features he remained calm. He stepped closer to her, lipping at her forelock and gently pulled at the knots in her mane in an attempt to calm her worries. There was every reason to be concerned, Niflheim visited Drasil most frequently due to their lack of water source but those trips rarely showed signs of another horse besides the chosen three. The other kings remained buried deep within their own territories and the few times another king and his herd did surface there was considerable tension. It was a standoff, both kings eyeing each other warily and providing a barrier. It was unusual, and to Arkyn the standoff between kings was unreasonable. They had only benefits to offer each other, the promise of future angels and help during troublesome times like these. After all, they all had their own territories and the territories were so vastly different that no one had any desire to expand their own. Yet there they always stood, bodies tensed and ready to strike down Hel's wraith upon each other.

"My dear, so blessed with the foam of Aegir's grace, your worry is understood but we cannot ignore Vesuvius' message. He only sends his birds upon Duvessa's urgency. We cannot take such matters lightly and even though the other kings and herds may be present we must risk it," he pulled away, peering into Ripley's eyes in an attempt to assure the mare of his words. Despite being the second youngest of the kings Arkyn, much like the other kings, feared none of his counterparts. Well built, sturdy and tall like his father he was a force to be reckon with which was enough to turn most stallions off to begin with. Once one threw in Callisto's assistance in protecting the herd it made the mares of Niflheim a very dangerous endeavor and only the most foolish of earls usually risked attempting to snake one. His herd was solid.

Despite Ripley agreeing to the move to Drasil he could sense she still did so out of duty to him and the sight of Vesuvius' birds, it would be a dangerous move and with her so heavily pregnant it was only reasonable she be concerned. As the herd began moving further from the ocean he took a moment to listen to the faint crashing of the waves a moment longer. If Niflheim did flood it could be the last time he heard the ocean for a season or more. Though it saddened the stallion he knew it was best, trusting deeply in the gods and the Chosen as well. To begin disobeying this late in his life would bring upon him nothing but despair.

The trip to Drasil was only half a days walk, Niflheim stretched further than it did longer despite what the mist often made it seem, and with the herd moving at a comfortable trot it didn't take long to cross the territory as the mist began to thin before disappearing altogether. As the large lake came into view he spotted the Chosen a short distance away and though he couldn't see them he sense the other kings weren't far. He called loudly to the small herd, signalling to them that they had arrived before giving a respectful dip of his head.

━━( 𝐃𝐔𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀 )━━
the chosen whisperer · 21 years · stage 1
location: drasil · tags: vesuvius, leucothea · mentions: herds

Duvessa's return to the group had brought with it a certain relief and tension all at once, Vesuvius eager to see her back but a bit disturbed at the message she carried with her. Despite viewing her visions as a gift, utterly and completely, it always worried her to see her two companions stress over what she told them, nonetheless it was her duty and she carried it out willingly. Pressing closely against Leucothea she watched as Vesi stepped away, calling the birds to them, she rested her head on the other mare's back. Visions were typically rough on the mare, the ones that told of disaster and death seemed to drain her despite her best attempts to not let them affect her. It felt like holding other's fate in her hooves and the worry it brought was often tiresome. Arkyn, her first colt who'd grown strong and admirable, turning into a valiant king could often be so isolated. And Ferox, though he wasn't born from her she'd been there for every step of his life and often regarded him as another son, well he was a hermit as well.

Leucothea's words brought only agreement from the other mare, many would come to them in search of answers and guidance, if the Chosen were not there to ease worries it could be terrible. She allowed the other mare to lead without question, easily falling in line behind the other mare. Once upon a time Duvessa had led Muspelheim with a ferocity akin to that of an experienced mother, she'd helped guard and lead the herd fiercely but after a particularly difficult injury she had allowed Leucothea to step into the position as lead (though she'd never been shy about offering advice to the younger mare). Afterwards Duvessa had found comfort in following and thus had never shown a desire to return to a leadership position.

Duvessa's worries had clouded her mind and she had fallen further behind than she intended; it wasn't until the black and white splotches of Vesi stepped in front and around her that she regained her focus and blinked slowly. Her tail lashed behind her with her stress as her stallion attempted to soothe her. She relaxed ever so slightly under his touch, her worry melted away and the mare's natural optimism and wisdom returned as she spoke to him, "They will make it safely to Drasil. All four kings will keep their distance from each other, we will weather this storm as we have every other." The mare's words were sure, sturdy as ever as she spoke. For all her worrying and fretting over the horses who inhabited Elysian Duvessa could a surprisingly calm figure, though she could not see every future most found that her words were sure and typically correct, as though she could see every future.

━━( 𝐒𝐈𝐕 )━━
muspelheim valkyrie · 10 years · stage 3
location: muspelheim · tags: runa, herd · mentions: none

Siv smiled warmly at her daughter's affection though there was a sadness that lingered in her eyes. Runa was a smart, lively young mare who sought out every adventure bigger than herself. Siv admired her and the similarity the two shared. While the younger mare's relation to her mother could not be questioned the subject of her father could, and this was not due to Siv being known as some flighty mare who flirted with each stallion, it was simply because Runa looked so much like her. The same long legs and round sides, the varnished coat that marked them both as a rather unusual appaloosa. It was a trademark of Siv's lineage, leading all the way back to the first king of Jotunheim as it had been told to her. It was a proud line of horses, one that Siv thought herself blessed to be a part of and now her daughter was to carry it as well.

Siv completely unfoiled herself from Runa upon hearing Tequila's nicker, it seemed that Ferox and herself had finally come to a decision to move. While reasonable and likely the best option it did make Siv a bit uneasy at the thought of bringing Runa into the situation. Stallions, both kings and heralds alike would be prowling for the chance to snatch up angels at the first opportunity. During such dangerous times it'd likely be easy too, horses would be more scatter brained and the kings and lead mares would be paying more attention to potential dangers. If someone was smart enough they'd be able to slip behind and snake a mare away from their herd. Whuffing softly she pressed herself closely against Runa as they began walking and while her previous words were those of comfort her next were a stern reminder, "Do not move from my side in Drasil. This will be no time for courting, only tension and aggression. You'll find a proper king later, for now, be cautious."