Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

For Serian couples and more intimate RPing.
Willows surround a shaded vale, sheltering all within.
Vineda
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Re: Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

Post by Vineda »

Gypsy tried, he really did. He bit his lip and counted to himself. He looked around at their surroundings in an attempt to distract himself. It was hopeless, however. A deep male giggle escaped him and he struggled not to pull his hoof away. Her lips tickled like mad! Did you plan that, miss? Mock stern, understated wink to show he jested.

She steadied him when she was done with the torment, and he smiled his gratitude. The gentle glance pulled him up short as he read a bit of longing there. More food for thought. His mind would be getting fat at this rate... Needing something to cover up his amazament at his discovery, he cast around and quickly reached around to his own tail. Grabbing the longest ribbon, he gave it a hard and fast shake. The purple ribbon shook open to be more of a scarf really, and he offered it to her. Might brush the sand off a bit better than your already sandy leg. Actually... here, let me... he mumbled around his clenched teeth. He brought the scarf forward slowly, that she would see what he made to do and avoid the danger of splitting skulls. With a toss of his head the scarf floated suspended in the air for just a moment. Ducking his nose under the fabric, he brought his now scarf-covered nose up and brushed over her bridge, her nose, her lips, and her chin. There now, much better, yes? He draped the scarf over her shoulder.

After today, gypsy mare, I shall be rushing to see you any chance I should get. He’d maybe still just met her, but he was impressed by her and pleased by her company. Ahhhhh and he could see she loved a challenge. One could almost see the cogs turning. Tinker... he considered quietly even as she dismissed the idea. And then she brought forth Magpie. A wistful sigh; how he coveted wings. That she was so happy with the name was plenty enough. Such a nickname pleases me no end! I thank you kindly. He had dodged the bullet for now, not that her sharp mind wouldn’t catch it before long. But now she knew him as him first. Gypsy with the stories was not his only face, no complaints from here.

Homestly I had no designs for this day before I met you... Would you like to journey up that rocky path to the peak there? On the other side is a grand view and grass that would be soft on our battered extremities. Or we could journey around the bend in the beach yonder, I’ve no idea what the land does in that direction.. He was happy to have a partner in crime today... Gypsy-Magpie could only hope the sun was lazy and the day would be long.

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Re: Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

Post by Songhue »

So sweet, this mysterious Magpie. She glanced at his ribbon-scarf, carefully propped on her shoulder, and while she didn't quite understand it - it certainly wouldn't suit her, but must instead be returned - she was ever-conscientious of the token, careful lest it fall.

A jest of the tickling, before the scarf, but now a new puzzle was given. The shoreline, or overland? A debate, and a hard one; she wished to go overland to the soft grasses for his sake alone, and yet the rocks between were quite honestly daunting after all the trouble to gain their feet in the slippery shallows. And for her, at least, the journey always began at the sea; perhaps it would lead to a gentle cove, or the beach may well cut off and lead to steep cliffs topped with more grasses. A saltwater lake, perhaps; she'd met some of the sweetest leviathans in saltwater lakes. There was one that was having trouble finding enough food because everything else kept eating all the fish, so when Tribe stumbled upon a group of manticores she'd promptly led them back to take care of the intruders. Didn't really hurt the manticores much, but it did make the others aware of what the manticore venom was doing to the rest of the land; made the bests a bit more careful, which is always a good thing.

Have you ever tried to reason with a manticore? she asked, apparently at random - even she had trouble tracking her thoughts, at times. No, nevermind. Never try to reason with a manticore. Really, just don't. It doesn't tend to end well.

There was a thought; what had her new Magpie friend been up to, in order to end up out here without so much as a direction in mind? Was he running from something?

Want to charge into the unknown? she asked, and gave a brilliant smile full of mischief. They'd turn inland at some point, surely, but those stones really didn't seem that appealing to stumble over. Maybe they'd find a way around.

Some of my best stories start by aimless wanderings, she chattered companionably, setting off down the relatively smooth beach. The ribbon still sat on her shoulder, accentuating the smooth roll of her long traveler's stride - not that she noticed, much. Her eyes were split between the landscape and her companion. Is that what you were doing, my mysterious Magpie friend? Like I did when I found the sand thieves? I was following a cloud at the time. But no, she hadn't shared that story yet; she wasn't as yet ready, even still. Her chest tightened for a moment with the emotion of memory; too fresh, not yet, not yet.

I wanted to see where the seas would take me, here. Did you know there are so many shimmer spots to other places, other realms, out in the seas? You just need to find them. It isn't easy though, they tend to move. Except when they don't. Well, it made perfect sense to her, at least. I found a little spot to here from a place with dolphins that walked on the land. Nice folks, honestly, although they're a bit pushy about playing. I mean in a play-or-die sort of pushy; it's the central basis for their culture, I think. Helps keep the peace, for them anyway. You should see them use a straw through their blowholes - now that's a sight that won't soon leave you!

Inane chatter, filling the silence, stretching between the steps. Nothing like a real story, not the ones she truly tells. It was hard to shake the summer out of her head, but it was all so convoluted and she'd said to share a laugh, not anything heartwrenching. The sand thieves led to the thunderbirds which led to the griffins and their kits and all of it tied up with soul stones and dead babies... No, no, not that story. But what, then?

But which tale would you prefer, now, sugar? Something to brighten your day, I may think; perhaps something about the singing fish? Or the fire dancers, maybe? Or just the different skies; there are so many different skies, so many beautiful places. Would you visit them all, yourself, if you've a fondness for my own wanderings?

That was helping, focusing on him, on what he would prefer. It drove out the shadow of all the rest of it, still too raw to go home, still with too little to bring along that would shed light and bring smiles to those she loved.

Still so far yet to go, before she would be comfortable resting, and even then it would be for only a short time. And until then, the long empty nights, left alone with the memories. So it really was best to enjoy today while it lasted, to take the company while it was available. She would miss this tonight, when it was all so much harder to chase away.
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Re: Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

Post by Vineda »

Golden eyes dropped to the uneven ground. She seemed to dislike the scarf, but there he'd done it already. He'd collect it later when there would be little fuss about it. To each their own musings for a few moments, then a break out of thought. Manticores? I cannot say that I have. Though from your tone it sounds like it'd be similar to trying to reason with a Molduga. That does not go so well either. He shook his head at the memory. The beast simply would not come to terms and finally the entire community of nagas had begun a scheme of throwing rather unpleasant things onto the sand for the sand-whale to snap up. They finally succeeded in driving him elsewhere. He wished there had been a chance for reasoning instead. Ahhh well.

The unknown it is, then! You do make it sound so very appealing. He shook himself from head to toe, flinging away the last bits of excess water and clearing his mind for a new beginning in their journey. A grin split his features as he pointed himself in the right direction and fell into step beside the flowing mare. Why were you following a cloud, pray tell? He wondered at the sad look she brushed aside so quickly. Travels certainly did expose one to many different experiences and cultures, and some of them could be quite dangerous or require healing time to recover from. The look made him want to give her a hug. He hoped that eventually they two would be familiar enough for that sort of thing to be common... welcome, even. She seemed a kindred spirit.

He thought about her question a moment. Shimmer spots. Flight has told me similarly of the sky, and I experienced it once while journeying with a band of sky pirates. My own desert wanderings have been confounded and contorted by such shimmers. Not all of the waves in the air are from heat, you know. It was to his dismay he found that he'd been rather negligent of the seas to date, and he confessed as much. You see, I've explored many shores and shallow waters. Large lakes, even. But my only real experience with the sea beyond the shoreline has been limited to sailing on a voyager ship, however. Frozen seas do not really count.

Pink-red nose tipped her way in an absorbed head tilt. She had the best stories by far, he could not get over the treat of it. Wouldn't he just love to spend a day lazing and listening to her tell of the different places she'd gone and things she'd done. She really seemed to take an interest in the cultures she came across, and that was a treasure. Now that's an interesting people. I've always heard dolphins were friendly to travelers, but they sound as though they've got their own race here with some different rules. What on earth did they use straws for, I wonder?

The snippets do leave a bit of mystery in it, don't they? I do like to hear them as they cross your mind. What or who are fire dancers, then? I certainly would like to see them all for myself. Love how there's always more out there, don't you? I have a bondmate who sees things in her looking pool... Sees so many many things. And another who dreams them. But there's naught like being there, being part of things. Letting them change you, bringing change with you to other places. His step had picked up as his heart rose, soaring on the joy of having a friend on the road.

Ears swiveled forward as Gypsy studied the first view around the bend. An archway rose up over the beach, anchored in a rock formation in the shallows. It looked like tide pool heaven, and through the archway he could see at least one more arch beyond that. They formed a dramatic landscape ahead, dramatic enough that even if no treasures were found he thought it likely to be memorable.

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Re: Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

Post by Songhue »

Oh, and this sort of view was why the beach made her heart sing. Just look at that, and the little tide pools just barely glimpsed as they drew nearer, so filled with the bright colors of the sea's treasures - even if those treasures were most likely to be fishy in nature.

Oh, I wanted to know where the clouds went all day, she answered, and smiled as if this was perfectly normal. Of course, for her it was perfectly normal. What would a cloud see while it skittered overhead, what lands did it pass in its haze? Travel as the bird flies, or the cloud drifts, either way.

And I am honestly glad you don't mind my little ramblings, darlin', she continued, arching her neck slightly to get a better view as they came upon the first arch. In all honesty I've not met too many who can keep apace with my wandering self in any manner, although it seems you've done a fair bit of it yourself, yes?

She glanced back at him, smiling warmly, inviting more talk of his own travels; Moldugas and the shimmers in the deserts. She'd seen those ones, but was still learning how to distinguish heat from travel. There was some small little difference she couldn't quite peg and couldn't reliably discern. The skies, of course, were a whole other beast of adventure, especially with someone like Caelum around - and what might this poor fellow think of their Caelum? Flight, he'd said, for his bondmate; a small clue to where he may hail from. Whom did she know what was bonded to Flight? She had heard tell, once...

And then they crossed under the arch and a rather impish sea breeze scooped in and swept the scarf right off her shoulder.

I do not think so, she said sternly, and without so much as a by-your-leave she leaped into the air, sprang off the softstone archway, and snatched it right back out of the wind to land a good two lengths into the shallows.

I'll have none of that, now, she continued, her mouth literally stuffed with the scarf as her thought-speech blared angrily at the wind that was making a good effort of pulling it free. You've been in quite the mood today as it is, and that is quite enough. Shame on you, stealing that which was entrusted for me to carry! This is no lost treasure, Oceantide, it's simply difficult to get it back in the poor fellow's tail. Now shoo! Go and make a storm. That's enough out of you for today.

She waded back to shore with that last declaration, having apparently finished chewing out the ocean breezes, and very carefully shook out the brilliantly colored scarf-ribbon again to set it over her shoulder. It had to have been for her to carry; the purple-blue-green fade in the piece was beautifully rendered, a perfect compliment to his sunset coat, and much too pretty for a simple mare like herself. Remove the bangles, the gems, and she had only a stripe across her cheeks, a coat so soft in tone is was pale and washed out. Only the lavender of her legs, the highlights to her mane, gave her anything unique, to her own thinking.

The silly thing would never know that many of her bondmates thought of her as a jewel of the seas.

Please do pardon the outburst, she said, and gave a shallow bow to show her sincerity. Sometimes we simply need to put a few things straight, right, honeysuckle? Like you said yourself; being changed a bit, and maybe bringing a bit of change with us, too. That was the reason for the straws, by the way, sweetheart. They'd found them, you see, and were determined to find a use for them. Once I showed them how they were meant to be used, well, their mouths couldn't very well handle it what with being dolphins, but they made good use of blowholes that day!

She chuckled and shook out her mane, stepping closer as she turned her head to see what may be just beyond that second arch - and then twisted her neck around to get a better look at what lay just beyond her own hooves.

The tale of the fire dancers, then, she said absently, and didn't realize that her ears perked happily at the mention of them, and all the more fitting for being in sand.

She looked up, smiling once more, and set her stage; it was time for a story, one of her very own, told as only she may tell it.

There came a day where she had wandered far, the gypsy mare who would follow moon or star, music or battle. There had been a new realm, a place of harshness in all areas, and every piece had been explored, every secret and treasure revealed, save for one; The Fire Dancers.

This realm had pockets of eternal storms, plants that would devour flesh, swamps that melted bones; there was no moderation, no peace to be had, save for that which could be found in the company of another. Simply seeing a new day was made a struggle by the very nature of this place. And yet she had wandered it all, finding teeth and hunger, cold and darkness, waiting to devour her.

It had been thrilling.

It had been terrifying.

But our wanderer voyages the seas; always the sea, all journeys begin within the waters. So the storms that ripped the oceans were first to be discovered, and the place of the Fire Dancers was farthest in her journey, last to be found, last to be dared, for theirs was a place that even those which haunted the rest of the realm avoided.


It was first and foremost a place of sand, she explained, and accompanied the declaration with the appropriate theatrics of burying her hooves in the sandy beach until not a single speck of golden bronze could be seen. Even above all else there was sand; even in the air, scratching your throat as you breathed.

It can't be said rather the fire dancers are a result of their environment or the cause for it. They are magnificent, whatever the case, and for all that this strange realm had shown her wonders already, it will always be best remembered for what she found amid their sandy homes.

It had seemed a desert, at first, like so many others that had been explored. Sand and sun and dry, dry heat. She couldn't smell a drop of water anywhere within this pocket of extremity, but there was some just to the other side of it; she could pass through, see what it was that even monsters found to be a bigger monster than themselves. If she was very lucky - and our wanderer is hardly ever so lucky - she might even escape notice.

But oh, the curiosity would not let her leave without at least trying.


This is, of course, why I tend to have such ill-conceived luck, Tribe confided, and spoke as if sharing some great secret.

The sand shifted as she walked, subtly at first, so that it truly did seem but a mere desert. It was as the bits of sand seemed to be growing larger as individuals that she noticed another strange thing; the air itself was on fire. Surely it must be so, for the sun had not come down to the ground to scorch her eyes with its rays, and yet there were flickers of flame shimmering before her very eyes and-

It was melting the sand. Those were the larger chunks, the fine grains of sand turning to pebbles as they melted, then melting further into a smooth, clear, reflective sheet beneath her hooves. The fire was intense, as severe as the rest of this place, and surely it was strange. It kept above her ears, just too high to cause true damage, and yet the whole back of her would be burnt and tender for some time to come from the passing.

The sheet gave way, eventually, to sand packed into cracked earth, shifting and crumbling under her steps. The earth would not melt under the flames, but it broke and roiled, near-liquid as it slapped against the melted sands. Still, however severe, it did not explain the aversion to this place; surely there were some creatures that would even find it welcoming.

They came, then, as sand and earth and melting sheets converged beneath her hooves. She had thought them illusion at first; the heat was too much for her, surely, the water still too far away. And still they came.


The fire dancers, she said quietly, and swayed just a little, snapping her tail with tiny trembling flickers.

They were fire and flesh, air and earth combined. Their eyes burned bright, their hair danced and reached for the sparks that flickered in the air, and their shapes were impossible things, strange fancies that seemed changeable in an instant.

They spoke in whispers and pops, crackling in their laughter, and they were around her within moments while her addled mind was still trying to make sense of what she saw. Living fire, flesh of fire, shifting and flickering and glowing jewel-bright, and always moving. She became entranced by the movement.


She closed her eyes, a soft smile lighting her face as she swayed and twisted, tiny steps, a hint of motion, almost untraceable. The dance of the flames.

This, then, was the trap. Not of horror, not a monster to make the other monsters step softly; the trap was to allure, to be so enchanted that the very structure of the place would be your end. For surely, these creatures that pranced around her, that mirrored her shape, making it their own, surely if they wished her harm she would have worse than a few blisters on her ears.

Never too close, never burning, but they moved around her, guiding her steps - and yes, there were steps, a movement that couldn't be helped. She thought then, this gypsy mare who had seen so much, that she might die in this place. Surely there could be worse fates than to be too enchanted to survive.


But enchantment is a funny thing, Tribe whispered, and a wicked grin curved her mouth as she opened her eyes and lunged forward, it only works in subtlety.

Enchantment, yes, a hypnosis in movement; and she wasn't being brought to the edge of these burning lands, but deeper. Sand to sheets of melting reflections, broken into molten ground, giving way to stone burnt so hard it was stronger than metals. The center to all of it, here, under this stone that was metal-hard, jewel-hard, stone that would break even bone.

A forest; or what was left. They consumed, these dancers, they burned and devoured, and they needed something more to fill the hollow trees that could not survive the onslaught of their hunger. They knew only that their food had come from these trees, but nothing more of what they had destroyed.

Perhaps if they placed her in one, she would become food.


And it is so hard to struggle when exhausted from the heat, she murmured, and sounded eerily dreamy. It's too tempting to follow the lure of the dance, to let it draw you back into comfort; so tempting to turn away from fear.

It may have worked, may have proven the final thing she would ever be curious about, if not for the water bearers.

She had met them long ago, leviathans of the ocean's currents, bringer of storms. And moon dancers, each one. She had lived with them for a time, learned their ways, come to understand their dances.

So too, could she understand the dance of fire.

She found the pattern, knew the movements, and within minutes she was shifting through and around, under and between, untouchable as she matched and countered.


She twisted, shifted, and the scarf came to join her, met the air once again. Twisting and tumbling, accentuating the movement, hiding the steps, fluttering as a flame itself upon the air as it danced with her, around her.

She thought only to evade, to make a small enchantment of her own. Twist and duck, stretch and leap, away, away, ever away from their endless hunger. When she finally stopped it was to the feel of soft, sweet grass upon her hooves, of rain upon her back, of the howling ocean winds ripping through storms.

The sand had gone. Safe, once more, but she would hold within her the dance of flame.

It would follow her into her dreams as she finally collapsed upon the moist ground.


A proper dramatic finish had her crumpled on the beach, looking for all the world as if she had truly just up and fainted, spent by her own story.
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Re: Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

Post by Vineda »

Barely able to keep his happiness contained, Gypsy smiled and nodded. He'd never met another so willing to follow up the details that didn't seem important. Where the clouds went, who had stirred up the winds passing by, the origin of a line or worker ants in their formation, how far the walking trees traveled. Many of his bond-kin simply dismissed these things as normal things-that-happen, with not a wonder for them.

I think I would have a sore time trading your 'ramblings' for the world, to be truly honest. He studied that arched neck a moment longer than was entirely necessary before he gave his answer, rolling it off his mind still in thought. Well Talon wonders about some things, but he's a bit of a homebody. Flight's an adventurer but has not the, er.. attention for some of the subtler mysteries. Galaxies, Sunna...Theirs is not to journey with the likes of an old traveler like me. Treasure likes to stay with her Avvie. And I then wander quite a bit on my own, yes. Know you any of my bond-kin, perchance? He'd no idea which stories were yet unshared, aside from those most recent that had not yet been told to anyone. If he divulged any that she recognized... He worried she might end up a bit miffed that he'd never owned up to his mention before. She seemed to go with the flow more, seemed happier to simply be happy. But he hated to chance it. Gypsy let the debate go on.

And then that pesky scarf he'd so unwittingly tossed over her shoulders took right off for a ride on the breeze. Before one could even contemplate chasing or abandoning, she was off with a right growl. He listened to her scolding with wide eyes before a guffaw escaped him that turned into a chuckle which grew into a laugh, and not three seconds later the sunset stallion was belly laughing.

It was a good few minutes before he was able to collect himself and apologize. Truly, you are a ferocious one! I apologize, but I don't believe I've ever heard the winds receive such an earful. A pause, nose up to the air to test the wind. Nor witnessed it listen so well before! You have shamed it indeed, milady. Well done! He fell in beside her with a friendly bump. It was true, no breezes teased his tufts of mane for the time being. Tribe drew his eyes yet again, this time in admiration of her fighting spirit.

Apologies for the pesky scarf. It really does fold back into my tail-band easily. I thought you would bring out its colors with your beautiful fade, and I rather admired it on you as i never did when it trailed in my locks. Your loveliness improved it my miles. He groaned inwardly. Worlds-traveler he may be, but good at complimenting mares he needed quite a bit of work on.

It was like listening to an oracle. Musical voice took on a different quality as though the story would be preserved somehow in the very air around them. His eyes could naught help but close, feeling the sands and dry and heat. His first love had been sand; this story was sounding fantastic already. Rose-colored flesh pimpled and shivered with the eeriness of it, the anticipation. Did she know she was swaying as she retold it? Lost in the story altogether she seemed. Then the shock of her sudden movement, the devilish grin a revelation. Jolting him out of the story that had in itself enchanted him. Wariness, mistrust of what was to come. For clearly she stood in front of him, but the danger of the story seemed so imminent.

At the end of it, he was standing utterly still as yet she moved in her shifting paces, remembrances of her dancing. Staring at her in wonder. I think, my dove, that t'was not ill-fated luck at all. Rather lucky actually considering you had met the leviathans before your travels to the fire dancers' realm- And her collapse. Dramatic indeed, for it fairly stopped his heart. Gypsy's mind darted in a dozen directions - had the dance steps brought on some remnant of power? - had she spent herself so much in travels this day? - was there something else causing her pain, some hurt or wound he'd not noticed? - He dove forward to her, pushing his nose again on her, right up to her neck below her head. There! a heartbeat! That lifeblood essence of Serians was right there in her, and strong... And breaths! Were he being played for a fool? But she did not seem to hold back any mass of giggles or glee at fooling him, no malicious smile tugged at her lips. All in but a few moments his frantic thoughts had plunged and dived. Lady Tribe? Is there anything I do to help? Are - are you all right? Is sure seemed a silly question to him, but he needed some place to start. He cast around him, and brought his eyes flashing back to her again instantly, unable to leave them elsewhere.

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Re: Wandering Hearts (Gypsy and Tribe)

Post by Songhue »

She couldn't help herself any more, and hopefully it wouldn't spoil such a wonderful stretch of company as she had found in this one. He rushed to her, checked on her - all part of her performance, for what good was a tale that didn't draw the listener in? - and at his inquiry she lifted her head and snuggled into his neck and shoulder, the gently faded scarf having landed on her face and leaving her blinded.

Sunna, he had said; she knew of this herd, of who he had been bound to. She had taken a wander or two with Sunna herself and found her to be wonderful company; but as he said, not one to wander with such old travelers. Who he was, precisely, may still yet be a mystery, for there were many who shared that bond; and yet he was kind and tolerant of her strange ways, enjoying the antics that some had found disconcerting, complimenting the tones in her coat, proclaiming his enjoyment of her company, glad for her discovery of moon-dancing leviathans that had taught her to see things just a little bit differently and helped her gain freedom from the devouring fires.

I'm well, sweet Magpie, she murmured, and found herself sitting up with the scarf sliding down her neck to catch in her mane, her muzzle still tracing along the curve of his shoulder. It had been part of the story, not meant to alarm you, but... Your concern is so kind.

She couldn't seem to stop, now that she had finally allowed herself the expression of touch. Did he know, at all, what his kindness did for her poor travel-weary soul? Did he know how her gaze had lingered whenever she turned her face to him, how his tales had eased the weight of isolation? Someone else who knew what it was to ask after the small things, to have so many you loved that never quite understood the extent of your journeys - well, she was just not so alone as she had thought. Only Gypsy, she had thought, would ever hope to understand, with the hypnotic songs of his grand travels.

She didn't know who that illustrious traveler had bound to, didn't even have much of a description of the stallion that was never still enough to get a firm grasp on, but she thought that, perhaps, in this most perfect companion - well, perhaps her dreams had followed the wrong stallion.

It seems strange, my friend, not to know your proper name even still, she admitted, and tugged gently as one of his tufts of mane. You understand more of the wandering ways than any other I've met, and still, for such wonderful company as you've given me, I have nothing more than my own nickname for you. Might the mystery end, sugar? I would place more than Magpie to your face.
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