[Self - RP Games] A Heaping of Adventure

[xo maho]

Ponies will vary per month!

 

[xo maho]

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PROMPT ENDS: 11:59PM EST Sunday 22nd January, 2023

The moon has once again continued its journey around the world and you can feel the chill of winter slowly starting to ease. It's time for new life to emerge, new beginnings and new experiences.

Submit an RP with your soquili experiencing something new! Maybe they made a new friend or went outside their comfort zone!

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Starlight carefully picked her way across the beach, following her brother to whatever it was he wanted to show her. She was happy to sun herself in the sand and let her hair shimmer with warmth, but Brightcrest... He had the heart and drive for exploration, and today was no different. A few minutes ago, he had walked over to her from wherever he had been and bopped her tail with a hoof. She needed to see this, he had exclaimed! And so, with a groan, she had risen from her comfort and contentment and followed him like the semi-begrudgingly obedient sister she was.

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Brightcrest could feel the enthusiasm vibrating through his body like an electric current. This was so exciting! He had finally explored a little ways down the beach without supervision (he was an adult now, dang it) and basically immediately, he had found something worth showing to his sister. Starlight might not care, but at least he could show her and she would pretend. He led her to a group of tide pools he had found that were far more fascinating than the ones close to their home base. Gesturing to Straight to come closer with his big feathery head, Brightcrest scooted carefully into a space between tide pools, trying desperately not to disturb any of their edges. "Look at the little creatures in here!"

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Starlight followed Brightcrest to the tide pools. Their clear water shimmered in the noon sun as they rippled in the gentle sea breeze. Tucking her tail carefully out of the way, Starlight leaned over the nearest pool. Brightcrest was right - these puddles, which were just slightly deeper than she would expect, were inhabited by all manner of small sea creatures. Starfish, barnacles on pebbles, some type of kelp or sea plant, what appeared to be itty bitty shrimp... And some odd-looking, gelatinous beings. Starlight couldn't tell if they were animal, plant, or something else entirely. They were circular and a creepy mauve color that unsettled her. It was just a bit darker and more muted than a red starfish, but it looked like something that belonged inside a mammal. "What do you think those round things are?" she whispered to her brother.

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Brightcrest peered down at the thing Starlight indicated, with its stippled texture and tiny ridges around its circular form. He shook his head, his feathers flopping from side to side. "Something that belongs in the sea proper." Some of the things had been exposed to the air, but still appeared moist. Tilting his head, Brightcrest blinked at the small, glistening creatures, then exchanged a glance with Starlight. She could tell watch he was thinking; making direct eye contact with him, she shook her head in warning. Even so, that didn't stop him.

Reaching out a cloven hoof, Brightcrest ever-so-gently poked the jelly-like creature with one toe. Before he could react, it sprayed a jet of water - directly into Starlight's face.

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Starlight squeaked as a stream of saltwater hit her squarely in the eye. Conscious of the other tiny lives around her, she quickly squeezed her eyes shut and rapidly began to blink as tears form. To her brother, she gritted out, "Help me to the stream," and she followed Brightcrest's vivid flag of a tail as he led her away from the tide pools.

When they reached the stream, Starlight lowered herself as much as she could and dunked her head into the water, rinsing her eyes. Who knew what was in the stream of water that thing had sprayed at her? Lifting her head from the water, she shook out her coat and her mane, then nailed her brother with a serious gaze. "From now on," she said with authority, "before we poke or provoke anything, we ask Mom or Grandma first, yeah?"

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Brightcrest shrank a little under his sister's gaze, but nodded nonetheless. Even though this would be hilarious someday - in like a week, he thought - it was definitely unpleasant at the moment. He might wait a minute before showing Starlight other new things, or at least before experimenting with them in her presence. When Starlight turned her back to shake out her mane again, though, Brightcrest cracked a grin. He still couldn't believe he had managed to hold down a cackle in the moment, but he had. His sister was a pretty good sport, all things considered, and he loved her for it.

WC total: 736
Starlight: 390
Brightcrest: 346  

[xo maho]

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PROMPT ENDS: 11:59PM EST Monday 20th February, 2023
Have you ever been changed by love on an almost cellular level? Was it because of the love of family, a friend, or even someone romantic? Is it something or someone that you can really explain? Try.

Submit an RP with your Soquili recalling a time love changed their life or that love is changing their life.

Calixte lay beneath the herd's center tree, eyes scanning the distant tree line at the edge of the plain. She had waited for five years now, her heart dissolving bit by bit, for her love to emerge from the forest into which he had disappeared so long ago. Kenton - gods, these days it hurt to even think his name - had been one of the first to greet her when she had arrived from across the sea, disoriented and heartbroken from a different, naïve love. He had introduced her to his lineage, the proud Cerynei herd that came from the Old Lands, who had fled fire and famine for a new life here in the Kawani. And now, he was lost to the land, and to her.

He had left on a regular patrol one day, half a decade ago, going out to check the boundaries of the herd's main territory, as he typically did when he felt the guards had had a long day of their own. Once in a while, if the weather was cool and the forest scents breathed life into the air in all their splendor, she would accompany him. She had not that day, and her heart yearned to reverse it.

She could not. What could she do? They had been through so much over the years, from the threat of those they called shifters - Rishy, the small one called Frostbite... and others who had come later, the vain Paris. They had faced a plot masterminded by Kenton's own grandchild, who sought to undermine the herd from within. They had revolutionized their boundaries and come to terms with their trauma together; they became more open with their delicate hearts, welcoming outsiders back into the herd as they recovered. Together, they had worked to make sure all who could claim a semblance of Cerynei or Nymph blood were welcome, so long as they were honest and friendly. Asylum was given to refugees from disasters and other herds.

They had fought through parenting together, through her struggle with birth and almost losing her life, then her struggle with the deep pain of infertility. When she had, finally, after years of desperately searching for a cure, come to terms with the fact that her future children would be of the heart, he had helped her heal. And then, without a trace, he had disappeared.

Cali lowered her head, ears drooping back as tears began to roll down her cheeks, gathering warmly and unpleasantly under her nostrils. She shook her head, flinging them off her face. He had left, and she was alone. Her heart was alone, for all she might be surrounded by her daughters and her sweet son and grandchildren. Herd members had cared for her in her desperate depression; her daughters had taken over her duties when she could not function to lead the herd when decisions were necessary. The patrol members advised her in turns as stand-in Protector, doing what they could to keep her informed so she could make whatever decisions necessary. But still, she felt that half of her heart had left her.

What could she do?

Raising her eyes back to the trees, Cali rose from the place she had been lying in wait. She breathed in the scent of the herdlands, letting the aromas of sweet river water and long grass fill her lungs. Her heart had been transformed by Kenton. He had shown her that she could experience more in a span of months than she thought she would accomplish in an entire lifetime where she had been before. They had raised a family together, raised those not their own, brought together others from across the lands and bonded them. He had strengthened her heart beyond comprehension, and his absence made it pang.

Taking a second deep breath, Cali moved. It had been a long time since she had ventured into the woods, but venture she did. She walked the trail the patrol had cut along the edge of the herdlands, keeping an eye to her left as she walked, toward where the trees thinned and the huge plain of a meadow of the inner herdlands lay. This was their home; this was her home. It would always be his home, should he be capable of returning, but the herd had mourned him just as long as she had, and possibly just as deep.

It was time.

Cali continued her wide circuit, gathering flowers and branches in a basket that a forager had left at a patch of tulips and daisies. She brought it back to the center of the herdlands with her, and arranged what she had gathered so she could slide it into the leaves of her mane.

It was time for her to lead her herd, which meant lowering her veil of mourning and donning her metamorphosis. This would not be the first time she took such a blow and determined that she would come stronger out the other side. It was, however, the hardest blow she had ever taken, and it had nearly knocked her out. There had been no closure, no trace of him, no clue as to where he might have gone or if he was still alive. And she would have to live with that.

For now, though, she had to live with herself, which meant loving herself. She needed to take care of herself, then her family, then her herd.

Perhaps, in time, she would love this way again... But, she knew, she could be fulfilled without. She just had to trust that she would survive this. She had so far, after all.

She would just move forward - one day at a time.

-----

WC: 954  

[xo maho]

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Prompt: You wake up in the forest. How you got there isn’t important right now. But the thing is that you’ve been given a time limit by a sinister voice who acts like this is just the first round in some demented game. Whether or not you really want to play, you do know that you don’t want to stay here.

What you need to do:
Write out facing 2-3 obstacles/riddles to overcome before you make it out of the forest. Your prompt should end with you making it past the edge of the woods.

Vale blinked, his eyelashes limned with the light of his glowing golden eyes. He felt groggy, which wasn't like him, and his lantern was missing. Something was wrong. Looking around, he found himself in a part of the forest he wasn't familiar with - assuming this was even his forest. As he looked around, from somewhere above him rang a voice that troubled him.

Whoever this person was, they had stolen his role!

Grumbling under his breath, Vale strode through the forest with purpose, aiming to get the hell out of here. Much to his surprise, walking without his lantern was somewhat easier; he didn't have something dangling from his mouth, throwing shadows everywhere. Even so, his head felt light and unbalanced without it.

Obstacle 1

Of course, a drifting head was a problem when walking through an unfamiliar forest with antlers like Vale's. It had been a long time since he had gotten tangled in anything, which was one thing the lantern was good for: bringing objects above his line of sight to his attention. He was without it for the first time in a long time, and with his being so accustomed to it... He didn't have any clue what was happening when he felt a sudden tug on the right side of his head.

Vale stopped in his tracks. His ears swiveled behind him, trying to determine if a creature had landed on the bony protrusion. But no, he didn't hear any chattering or any breathing aside from his own. Taking a deep breath, Vale timidly took a step forward, gently easing his head in various directions to see what tension was there.

Nope, he was stuck.

"Blast it all," he muttered, stomping his hoof. This was so dumb. How had he even ended up here? He didn't remember... Maybe someone he had been trying to trick had played a trick on him. If so, it really was a good trick. "I have learned my lesson," he called halfheartedly into the looming trees. "You can guide me out now."

Of course, no one responded. Clearly this entity wasn't actually one to play the game like Vale did, which usually included a happy ending. With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Vale cast his eyes upward.

Above him, a thick vine dangled from the trees in a precarious loop, swaying with his movement. Vale had really only seen most of his antlers in his reflection in bodies of water, but if he remembered correctly... Was there a section that pointed forward? Was that the problem? He had hooked himself?

Backing up, Vale gently wiggled his head back and forth once more, hoping to free the vine if it was pinched in a sharp point of his antlers. As he backed up, he felt the tension increase, and then all of a sudden, release - he was free!

Letting out his breath and an audible "phew," Vale (carefully) shook his head, conscious of his weighty antlers and now of the vines that dangled from above. "This forest seems mildly incompatible with myself," he thought, creeping forward once more.

Obstacle 2

As he became more familiar with the aerial hazards, Vale picked up his speed, heading toward what he hoped was a thinning patch of trees ahead... Could it be the edge? But as he approached, he noticed that his footing became sloppy... And the ground shifted beneath his feet.

Looking down, Vale lifted his foot and watch mud suction around his hoof. Just my luck, he thought, making a disgusted noise. Was he really going to have to get dirty and suffer an aching skull from the impact to his antlers? This just wasn't his day. Who the heck had dropped him in this place?

Surveying the ground before him as he tried to stay upright in the ankle-deep muck, Vale looked for steady ground. He was familiar with bogs and marshes, but he had never encountered such a wet spot in the forest before. But, he realized, this place was different from the forests he had encountered before. It might even be a dream.

Clenching his teeth, Vale slogged through the mud to what appeared to be an island amongst the wet spots. Navigating around the trees with their exposed roots systems and clinging lichens, Vale came upon a dry-looking path, which had been hidden behind the trees that inhabited this particular spot. Feeling cautiously optimistic, Vale pressed on -

And landed himself squarely in a muddy pool hidden by what could only have been an optical illusion in the path.

"SPIRITS ALMIGHTY!" he shouted as his whole body jarred with the impact. Much to his relief, the pool didn't go above mid-thigh, but it was still pretty much the most inconvenient thing his head could conjure up. It was dark in here, it was not the warmest place, and he was now cold, wet, and covered in goop.

Picking himself up out of the muck - slowly - Vale did his best to get to shore. It wasn't an easy task; his muscles were strong, but this much direct resistance wasn't something he had met with before. When he finally got to the edge, he was exhausted, and just stood there for a moment, gazing into the light at the edge of the darkness.

Wait.

The light?

Something clicked in his head, and Vale barreled toward the light. When he reached it, he stood at the edge of the woods... And he wasn't sure what to make of what he saw.

WC: 910-ish  

[xo maho]

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November is all about having an “attitude of gratitude” and—Scratch that, I hate when people say that but what they really mean is you can’t complain about or be upset about anything. Being grateful is good, but it’s okay to let out our emotions from time to time.

In short, it’s okay to not be okay. Say it again. it’s okay to not be okay If you’re mad, sad, or whatever it’s okay to express that from time to time–it’s even healthy.

I know this time of year is stressful. Write a 750 word RP about you soquili getting upset,mad, or in an argument. Do they rage against the dying of the light? Rant against the heavens? Finally tell someone enough is enough? Or just let someone else know how they feel, even if it’s not pretty or grateful?

Maybe you want to make the RP into a parable that mirrors real life but in soquili way. Example (which you can totally use!) IRL your car has stopped working or those vacation plans have fallen through–tell me about how your soquili’s favorite basket breaks when you need it most. How that jar of honey didn’t come out flavored how they wanted. You’ve got the right to vent, so use this as a way to let it your frustrations (RULE: You cannot make it about any human, soquili can fend for themselves.)

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Morana trudged through the ankle-deep snow, not really struggling with it physically, but feeling heavy all the same. Her lightweight scarf did nothing to block the cold. While her mask provided something of a physical barrier against the wind, it was solid and grew frigid against her face, as well. While her mane and tail insulated her somewhat, they were heavy and thick with moisture and frost. She took a deep breath and then exhaled; a huge plume of vapor escaped her mouth and nose, billowing into the air like smoke.

Winter sucked. But really, winter wasn't what weighed her down; that was the rough edges that lingered in her mind. The heavy stone in her chest left there by her father. Now, she fended for herself in this rugged wilderness. She and her sister had gone separate ways some time ago, maturing and leaving the nest that their foster mother had provided for them when everything else was lost. When she was alone like this, all she had lost enveloped her mind, filling her with melancholy. What could she do? Her only hope was to make it to spring.

WC: 190

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Horatio gripped his cloak in his teeth and pulled it more securely over his back, straightening it to the best of his ability. He wrapped his long tail around himself for warmth the best he could, grateful that the extra fluff on the lower half of his legs afforded him a little more comfort than some might experience. Out here on the craggy mountainside, there was little shelter and even less in the way of resources he might find to provide heat. He would have to make due with what he had until he found a place to sequester himself from the inclement weather. The overcast sky rained tiny flakes, which melted the instant they reached the warmth emanating from him and soaked into his fur, hat, cloak. At this point, he felt like a shivery, sodden mess.

In the moment he had looked up from his feet to look at the sky, Horatio spotted something camouflaged against the mountainside. He couldn't be sure how long she had been there - she blended magnificently well with the stony hues still not yet fully blanketed in white powder. The mare looked about as chilled as he felt; perhaps more so, though he could not be sure. A mask hid her features from view.

Unafraid, he approached her. What was she going to do, shiver at him? "Madam," he called over the wind once he was close enough, "what say you to finding shelter from this hideous cold?"

WC: 245

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Her eyes had been closed for a moment when she heard a voice on the air; she had paused in her step to rest for a moment, though she knew it was ill-advised. Momentum was what would keep her going in harsh conditions such as these. Cracking her eyes open and feeling them sting with ice upon her lashes, Morana's blurred vision detected a hint of green and black standing in the snow before her. His question echoed through her mind as she tried to comprehend it. "Hideous cold is right!" she shouted back, snapping out of her stupor and blinking furiously. She shook her head and her hold body, dislodging thousands of tiny frosty crystals that had begun to form in her stillness. "Let's go!"

Turning to walk alongside the stallion whose acquaintance she hadn't even quite made, Morana fell into step with him. She looked for outcroppings to take shelter beneath, or openings in the hillside. Before long, they found one: a cave, snow just intruding a foot or two into its opening. From its rear, a warm, slightly-foul-scented breeze blew toward the front of the cave, but Morana would gladly take that over the painfully chill wind outside. She didn't even care if another animal was inhabiting this place; with the way she was feeling, she had no doubt that she would be able to scare them away. Her despair had morphed into seething rage beneath her skin, and she felt as if she could breathe fire now that she was slightly less than frozen. She hoped this stallion understood that he had taken up with a complete stranger, and that those were sometimes unpredictable. Since she had entered the cave, Morana had been furiously pacing; her breath rose in smaller vapory puffs now that she was in warmer air.

WC: 303

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Horatio kept step with the mare as they looked for shelter together, keeping company with her in silent solidarity as his eyes combed the hills for indications of a place out of the elements. The mare ended up finding it: a cave with warm, if smelly, air. They might not want to stay here long, with it smelling the way it did, but at least it would give them a chance to shake off the cold and the damp. "Whew," Horatio said, exhaling audibly. "That was a brisk walk."

Turning from where he had been gazing - out of the cave the way they had just come - Horatio realized that the mare hadn't really ceased her brisk walk. Indeed, she paced relentlessly up and down the length of the cave. Steam blew from her nostrils. "Are you alright, madam?" he asked, concerned that something might be wrong. But perhaps she was just trying to get the blood flowing back to her legs...

WC: 161

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At the stallion's question, Morana shook her head. Her mind had turned from a frozen wasteland into a shattered nest of thought fragments, all sauntering through her head. "I haven't been alright for quite a long time, and the miserable cold hasn't made it better by any stretch of the imagination." Taking a breath and stopping in her tracks, Morana looked at the stallion, trying to make eye contact that wasn't too aggressive. "My name is Morana Tomislava. My past is somewhat fraught, and I'm afraid it makes me rather unpleasant company."

WC: 92

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Surprised at the mare's admission, Horatio introduced himself. "I am Horatio," he said. Looking over his shoulder at the worsening weather and thickening snow, he made a quick decision. "Would you like to tell me about it? It seems to be a burden, and it seems the weather is not likely to change course soon."

WC: 55

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Morana blinked. It seemed unexpected that a stranger would be interested in her life story, but at his assertion that he would be willing to listen, something in her snapped off - the last branch holding up the dam inside her. "My father comes from a proud kalona family," she began, avoiding noting that she had, in fact, saw the stallion's own kalona blood; his serpentine tail with its spade at the end told that well enough. "He is known by his family name, Tomislav, and feared for it; he fought in the war and was unafraid to shed blood. But he fell in love with a soquili of the plainest blood when he was wounded and she cared for him; they ran away together. He betrayed the future of his clan for her, shirking his duty to his family to continue the line." Morana took a deep breath. "My mother died in labor, and once my sister and I were revealed to share almost nothing of his own traits, he felt he had betrayed his family for nothing." She gritted her teeth. "He threw us away. We were raised by a lovely angeni mare who gave us a home, but the time spent with her has ended now. Now, all I think about is finding him and showing him just exactly what kind of garbage he threw away."

Morana blinked back angry tears. What she wanted to do was beat her father into a pulp with her hooves for abandoning herself and her sister; she had needed him, and her sister perhaps needed him even more. Sometimes she hated him, sometimes she desperately wanted to know him, but one thing she could say was that she understood him. But that didn't mean she needed to forgive him. "It's all I think about sometimes," she murmured. "I just want him out of my head, but I think the only way to do that is to find him and give him a piece of my mind."

WC: 334

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Horatio's mind reeled at Morana's story, comprehension blooming through him as she reached the end. She carried a powerful poison all by herself, bearing it like a corrosive pendant that grew heavier and strangled her sense of self more each day. "You probably don't need to hear it from me," he said, "but you are allowed to feel like you were betrayed, too, because you were."

Tilting his head a little in thought, Horatio considered something. "Would you be interested in company on your quest?" he asked. "That way, if you end up standing half-frozen on a mountainside again, you'll have someone to bail you out." He gave her what he hoped was an appropriate half-smile, just slightly crooked.

WC: 119

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Once again surprised by this stallion, Morana sized him up. He would undoubtedly be a valuable companion, and he appeared prepared for more than she was, with his hat and cloak, though they could only do so much against wind and snow. Her thoughts turned from their blockade of tiny pieces into hypothetical situations where Horatio might be helpful. "Will you stop me from doing whatever I need to do, should we find him?" she asked, carefully phrasing the question. She didn't plan to commit patricide, but she certainly might get physical, depending on what her jerk of a father said to her.

WC: 103

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Horatio thought for a moment. He was relatively impartial, and the story she had told was pretty unforgivable. So he answered her simply: "No."

WC: 24

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Morana brightened. "Then you have a deal." Scooting closer to him - near enough to feel his warmth but not near enough to touch him or impede his ability to maneuver - Morana assumed a sleeping posture and closed her eyes. "Thank you for listening," she muttered. Truly, she felt like a weight had lifted from her; he was the first soul she had told this to, the first one who would know the story without having witnessed it firsthand. Getting it out in the open made it feel like it belonged to her less now, and she could part herself from it a little more. Maybe, someday, she could be her own person, separate from the scars around which she had formed herself.

WC: 122

 

[xo maho]

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Second Chance Prompt: Finish an old RP you never finished OR RP out that plot you never RPed. 750 NEW words to complete an old RP OR 750 words completed RP actually doing that plot you've been meaning to do for forever.

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George swam in tight circles just outside the entrance to his grandmother's hoard cave. It had been years since he had actively sought her out - in fact, he had been actively avoiding her for quite some time. Ever since he had met Kali almost a decade ago and had his first litter of "halfbreed" children, as she would call them, as a result. Just the thought made him grind his teeth. He wasn't sure how much more stress his molars could take.

Alas, here he was. He was not here for her blessing; he did not expect it. Instead, he was here to notify. That was it, he told himself. This was a courtesy call. Still, his heart raced in his chest. The matriarch was a relic of ideas long past their prime, in his opinion, yet she remained an elder and the leader of his pod... Though, he supposed he could become a member of another one. That probably wouldn't go over well for anyone, though. Groaning just at the thought of hearing his name slandered for betrayal in addition to the inevitable complaints about his choice of mate, George looked over at his mate out of the corner of his eye. There she stood, a few yards away, silent on the seafloor. Her resolute manner reassured him.

WC: 219

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Ismae held her breath consciously - it took all her concentration. Unlike George, she had not spent most, if not all, of her time in the sea. She did not have the unconscious control he had that allowed him to swim furiously with no concern for his air supply. She rationed hers by moving as little as possible, by not speaking... not that she spoke much, anyway; that was something she reserved for George, as he was the only one she really thought was worth speaking to. He had rescued her in his way, after all. She had walked all the way from she-didn't-know-where to the edge of a body of water, and she might have kept walking, if he hadn't disturbed her by loudly yelling and splashing water in her face. She had been catatonic at the time, suffering in the wake of an incredible trauma. He had woken a teeny tiny part of her that had slowly unlocked the rest of her functioning being, one puzzle piece at a time, until she had become what she was now; something resembling an intelligible usdia. Some days, her abilities to comprehend what was before her were still lacking, stuck in the past and trying to play catch up, but she did her best. Even if her best was staring straight ahead and mumbling answers to George's questions. Which is what she intended to do today.

WC: 234

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Etain arose from her slumber with a flourish, stretching languorously to greet the day as sunlight beamed down from the hole in the top of the cavern. The rays warmed her deep violet and gold scales, flashing as she spiraled in the water, luxuriating in the current on her fins. She took in the treasure around her, then methodically arranged her rope of pink and purple pearls around her neck; today would be a beautiful day. She had been seeing a stallion of magnificent character recently who seemed to have changed her outlook from its very core; she found more and more things lovely, more things worth hoarding. For the first time in a long time, she had ventured out treasure-seeking, thinking that perhaps her cave, which was full to bursting, might just need an additional few treasures.

Thinking that perhaps, with the sun aloft already and the water warm and heavenly, it might be just such a good day for another treasure hunt, Etain pulled her loot bag from a hook near the entrance of the cave. It was unlike her, but along with that thought, she had another: perhaps Lue might appreciate a trinket or two, freely given. She'd have to find something that matched his citrine hue.

Etain hummed delightedly to herself and she meandered out of her cave, but lurched to a halt at an unexpected sight: before her swam her only grandson in the pacing pattern characteristic of the beginning of their every encounter. A few yards off, a stoic and somewhat ghoulish mare stood on the reefbed, her pin-straight hair floating spookily in just about every direction. "Grandson," said Etain, her melodic voice still dreamy, "to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

WC: 291

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George's eyebrow rose as he watched his grandmother emerge from her cave, though she was seemingly somewhere else - her eyes didn't land on him until a few moments after she appeared, she was softly singing, and she even had a treasure bag looped around one limb. When she spoke, he steeled himself, but she was not her usual, abrupt self; instead, she simply asked him a question. There was no disdain in her voice, either - what was going on?

Licking his lips and squaring his shoulders, George stilled himself after his many minutes spent pacing. "Grandmother Matriarch, Etain Genevieve, I have come to notify you that I have chosen a lifemate, though it may be unusual for the customs of our herd." Stopping short, George cleared his throat, then looked around a little bit and recentered. "Yes, that is what I have come to say. This is Ismae. She is not comfortably able to speak, but I thought you should be aware of her name and status, as you will see her amidst the pod."

WC: 175

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Etain gazed at George, then let her eyes wander over the mare who had seemingly come with him for this introduction. With her stitched body, Etain understood why it must not be comfortable for her to speak, though she could not fathom the discomfort itself. Ismae's eyes shone like smokey jewels even beneath the waves, and she had the most peculiar tail. Etain supposed she was beautiful in a haunting way. Briefly, she wondered if the mare had some kind of octopus nixie heritage, but it did not truly matter; clearly, this mare had expanded George's horizons, as Lue had expanded her own. (The fact that she could ever think a nixie was beautiful just about blew her subconscious out of the water, if she was being honest with herself.)

Inclining her head toward George, she said, "Thank you for the notification and the introduction." To Ismae, she smiled. "It is lovely to meet you. I hope you feel welcome here." Swishing her tail a little to move further from her cave, she adjusted her leg to get a better grip on her treasure bag. "Now, if you will both excuse me, I believe there are some oysters that need harvesting on the eastern reef."

Satisfied that she had fulfilled this social obligation that had been suddenly thrust upon her - and done so with flying colors - Etain set off in pursuit of lovely things to bestow upon Lue.

WC: 238

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George did his best to avoid visibly dropping his draw or letting his eyebrows rise up into his forelock as his grandmother not only did not launch into a rant, but actually said nice things to both of them. He didn't understand what was happening. He had spent most of his life avoiding socializing with nixies because of her views on them, then protecting his children and grandchildren from her prejudice. How had that all changed? And why was she treasure hunting again?

Spinning around to Ismae, George went to her side. "We can surface now," he said, aware that she did not have near the lung capacity that he did. As they made their way toward the surface, George turned the interaction over in his head - but the conclusion that he came to was that all he could do was be cautiously optimistic. Maybe the reason for the change would present itself. "You did very well. That went much better than expected. Thank you for coming with me."

WC: 169

Quote:

As Ismae's head broke the surface, she took a deep breath of air through her nostrils. This was all very puzzling to her. George had basically promised her that his grandmother's approval was impossible for a nixie to receive, let alone one that was (not in his words) defective like her. She had seen his posture loosen as Etain Genevieve had visibly stunned him with her words, which had been gentle, if not explicitly accepting. She supposed that the most she could hope for was for the members of the Grail to not swim away from her - but, George had said, there were some other spooky members, too. Maybe she would yet find a home here. After all, this very first interaction had gone a way that neither of them had expected. This was good. Turning to George above the surface, Ismae carefully opened her mouth and mumbled, "You're welcome."

WC: 150