personality Holds onto regret, laments not possessing more of her mother's looks. Intelligent, insightful, often too much in her own head. Reveres her father.
roleplaysSpoiler
2017 long night storytelling
"Have you heard tale of the Kimeti who haunts the mist?" Egg asked from his perch at the edge of their camp for the night. Dawn's ears flattened against her scalp at the very mention.
"No," she answered. "Don't tell it."
A snort sounded from behind them. Price had narrowed his gaze on the grinning buck. "He's telling untruths again. Ignore him."
Price coughed, the wheezing sound rattling his bones.
"Speaking of the undead..."
"I'm not undead, I'm just old. Go on then, weave us your web."
"Very well." Egg nestled himself in a comfortable mound of dirt, his eyes trained on Dawn. "Many moons ago, there was a young Kimeti who had given birth to three foals. They say a strange rage boiled within her, as wild as the wind, as untameable as the sea. One night, it became too much for her body to handle. It spilled forth like a dark curse, consuming her whole. On this night, even the stars had found themselves heavy with sleep and left the sky darker than the ink of a squid. She roused her foals from their nests of twig and grass. They followed her in a single line deep into the swamplands, until the mist grew so thick they could hardly make out the very hooves they walked on. One cried out that they could hear the bubbling of the swamp and feared falling in.
Their mother's face came suddenly from the mist, her eyes glowing a heinous red. As her lips parted they could see their reflections in the points of her sharpened teeth. The mist surrounded them once more. Over the pop and churning of the swamp water, the sickly sounds of meat snapping and bones crunching filled the night air.
When the sun rose, the Kimeti had vanished. All that remained of her foals were their small hooves, floating in the swamp. There are nights when the mist grows thick and the stars retreat... and if you are particularly unlucky, you will find her."
Despite her obvious fear, Dawn pressed her friend. "If the mother killed her foals... and no others were around... who carried the story from that night?"
The fur around Egg's mouth pulled tight in a way that made her wish she hadn't asked.
"Did I say three foals? Perhaps there were four..."
personality Price, as he's most commonly referred to, is... not what you'd call lucky. Where others are afforded the opportunity to commit a mistake and skitter off having learned their lesson without capture, ridicule or identification, Price oft feels the sins of his past riding on his very shoulders. Every misstep feels etched into memory, every misspoken word recalled by others. He longs for just a quiet space, where he can be alone with his misfortune.
roleplaysSpoiler
2017 long night storytelling
"Have you heard tale of the Kimeti who haunts the mist?" Egg asked from his perch at the edge of their camp for the night. Dawn's ears flattened against her scalp at the very mention.
"No," she answered. "Don't tell it."
A snort sounded from behind them. Price had narrowed his gaze on the grinning buck. "He's telling untruths again. Ignore him."
Price coughed, the wheezing sound rattling his bones.
"Speaking of the undead..."
"I'm not undead, I'm just old. Go on then, weave us your web."
"Very well." Egg nestled himself in a comfortable mound of dirt, his eyes trained on Dawn. "Many moons ago, there was a young Kimeti who had given birth to three foals. They say a strange rage boiled within her, as wild as the wind, as untameable as the sea. One night, it became too much for her body to handle. It spilled forth like a dark curse, consuming her whole. On this night, even the stars had found themselves heavy with sleep and left the sky darker than the ink of a squid. She roused her foals from their nests of twig and grass. They followed her in a single line deep into the swamplands, until the mist grew so thick they could hardly make out the very hooves they walked on. One cried out that they could hear the bubbling of the swamp and feared falling in.
Their mother's face came suddenly from the mist, her eyes glowing a heinous red. As her lips parted they could see their reflections in the points of her sharpened teeth. The mist surrounded them once more. Over the pop and churning of the swamp water, the sickly sounds of meat snapping and bones crunching filled the night air.
When the sun rose, the Kimeti had vanished. All that remained of her foals were their small hooves, floating in the swamp. There are nights when the mist grows thick and the stars retreat... and if you are particularly unlucky, you will find her."
Despite her obvious fear, Dawn pressed her friend. "If the mother killed her foals... and no others were around... who carried the story from that night?"
The fur around Egg's mouth pulled tight in a way that made her wish she hadn't asked.
"Did I say three foals? Perhaps there were four..."
name The Egg That Cracks (the egg that crah ks) short name Egg speaks in #cb2525
naming dream / uncert
breed Acha obtained June 2017 CC pick
personality A playful buck who always manages to find himself just on the edge of disaster.
roleplaysSpoiler
2017 long night storytelling
"Have you heard tale of the Kimeti who haunts the mist?" Egg asked from his perch at the edge of their camp for the night. Dawn's ears flattened against her scalp at the very mention.
"No," she answered. "Don't tell it."
A snort sounded from behind them. Price had narrowed his gaze on the grinning buck. "He's telling untruths again. Ignore him."
Price coughed, the wheezing sound rattling his bones.
"Speaking of the undead..."
"I'm not undead, I'm just old. Go on then, weave us your web."
"Very well." Egg nestled himself in a comfortable mound of dirt, his eyes trained on Dawn. "Many moons ago, there was a young Kimeti who had given birth to three foals. They say a strange rage boiled within her, as wild as the wind, as untameable as the sea. One night, it became too much for her body to handle. It spilled forth like a dark curse, consuming her whole. On this night, even the stars had found themselves heavy with sleep and left the sky darker than the ink of a squid. She roused her foals from their nests of twig and grass. They followed her in a single line deep into the swamplands, until the mist grew so thick they could hardly make out the very hooves they walked on. One cried out that they could hear the bubbling of the swamp and feared falling in.
Their mother's face came suddenly from the mist, her eyes glowing a heinous red. As her lips parted they could see their reflections in the points of her sharpened teeth. The mist surrounded them once more. Over the pop and churning of the swamp water, the sickly sounds of meat snapping and bones crunching filled the night air.
When the sun rose, the Kimeti had vanished. All that remained of her foals were their small hooves, floating in the swamp. There are nights when the mist grows thick and the stars retreat... and if you are particularly unlucky, you will find her."
Despite her obvious fear, Dawn pressed her friend. "If the mother killed her foals... and no others were around... who carried the story from that night?"
The fur around Egg's mouth pulled tight in a way that made her wish she hadn't asked.
"Did I say three foals? Perhaps there were four..."
name Stretched With Stars (strech d with stars) short name Star speaks in #99adde
naming dream / uncert
breed Zikwa obtained Gaia Color Schemes Star hunt
personality Filled with the glimmering shine of a hundred stars, this doe is prefers to sleep through the day and make herself known at night, when she is at her most beautiful.
name Of Night (of nite) obtained July 2018 CC Pick
name Death Brine (deth brye n) short name Briny speaks in #5a6371
naming dream / uncert
breed Acha obtained Witchsona Halloween, Deep Sea Witches
personality Briny dislikes the belief that to be in tune with one's most primal of urges reduces them to little more than an animal of chaos and need. Knowing what the MotherFather has given them in life means engaging in what runs to their deepest core. This does not preclude them from forming intense relationships, exercising patience, and being mindful of the world around them. Rather, it includes that very primal desire to love and be loved. To create life, to feed, to feel every emotion as it enters their body. So that is precisely what Briny does. Not restricting emotion - crying out when angry, laughing when joyful, hunting when hungry and predatorial. Right and wrong are not inconsequential to Briny, but they are seen as byproducts, not choices.
personality True to their namesake, Unturned Stone leaves no stone unturned, no area without exploration. To find things that are truly beautiful, Stone believes one must first sort through the muck. It's buried in clumps of dirt, foraged from rotted branches or in the depths of swamp mud that Stone finds hidden gems and trinkets. Never one to keep much for themselves, Stone is happy to impart these treasures on any kin they encounter to brighten their day.
