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Entry tags:
Open Log ➵
WHO: Hayame and YOU(?!)
WHAT: centaur cryptid action, the angriest breeding season ever, archery, a local lurker probably yelling at kids to get off her misty lawn and stop trying to care about her
WHERE: Lohkimareen [Greentruth heights, misty depths, and forest's edge]
WHEN: Beginning of Visoseri (June)
WARNINGS: potential suicidal ideation, mentions of csa, violence, estrus
01 ➵ IN MISTS [FORESTS BELOW GREENTRUTH]➵ 霧の靡に
[The Aions have been provided lodging among the tall, fortified trees of Greentruth... But one potential member of the Pleroma group has not made use of them a single night. In fact, for the more observant types... the centaur who had been among their number that first night through the portal from Godsblood, who had hung around the edges of the welcome banquet silent, brooding, and angrily eavesdropping... has barely been seen since.
There are whispers, though, the occasional bit of gossip amongst the natives. A man who often works one of the freight elevators that transports supplies up from caravans on the forest floor who complains about an occasional extra load who doesn't even tip. Merchants who talk about being watched by a strange monster or spirit in the mist, shaped like some unnatural combination of mount and man. An armorer who laments that as much as they ought to aid the Aions in their mist, there is just this one who keeps taking shortbows- what is she doing to them?
And if someone were to actually seek out that woman... The search will take them to the dangerous mists below the safety of the Greentruth trees, where shadows play across the mist and large beasts roam. But amongst the tracks left behind by reptiles are faint imprints of hoof, there is a hollow tree that seems to have been made into some sort of crude shelter, game hanging to dry high off the ground and half-prepared pelts stretched out over makeshift racks, and when you turn around-
There might be an arrowhead embedded in a tree near your face, the arrow shaft quivering with the force that has punctured the bark.]
02 ➵ FLETCHER [GREENTRUTH, NEAR GODSBLOOD PORTAL]➵ 矢作り
[There is a downside to the intense aversion Hayame feels to using her shard for so-called "communion". Mainly... she has refused the easy way to know where people are across the planet. To her it is normal, coming as she did from a world in the year 1590 where the most advanced technology consisted of woodblock printing, looms, and matchlock rifles, but...
It means she does a lot of waiting in exchange for trying to keep people out of her head, where she has so much less control than she would like people to think. Risk emotion bleed with inexperience into a conversation that, if held in person, she'd at least be able to control? She does not fancy it.
And in waiting for the man she has commissioned a bow from to appear from Godsblood... she stands (glowers) near the portal from the coastal town, hands crossed beneath her tightly bound breasts. After a few hours... she begins to resent herself for the wasted time, and right there, her large body taking up a decent amount of space near the portal...
She just commandeers a table and starts to work, pulling a feathered kill from its place hanging at her harness and beginning to pluck feathers off it right there, squinting at each one and beginning to cut them into arrow fletching. Sorry, did you need to get past her? Wondering why she's still standing there?
She isn't volunteering. She's working.]
03 ➵ NATURAL DESIRE [RIVER NEAR GREENTRUTH]➵ 発情期
[Hayame has always resented the fact that she was born a woman.
From the moment she had been old enough to watch the empty shell of an Armless woman that was her dam be led to the mounting post each year and understand why, she had known what women were best suited for in a breeding stable. Even as she trained herself in bow and polearm and blade, threw her entire effort into making herself a warrior who would be bought by a warlord to bring him victories in battle, the possibility of being sold as a broodmare or "companion" mount had always been a possibility. Always.
And nothing was a better reminder of the femininity she strove to cover with bindings, strength, and harshness than a jinba mare's heats. The urges frustrate her as they always do, turn normal scents in the air to tempting aromas, make her body into a traitor willing to lift her tail with interest at the sight of potential mates, and force her to burn with desire that anyone with a proper nose or eye would notice.
Which is what has led Hayame to the cold mountain river she is now immersed in up to her lower shoulders, letting the water wash away proof of her want and cool her body. Thinking herself alone... she allows herself the luxury of a moment of weakness, letting down her fetlock-length ebony hair and trying to work her fingers through the tangled strands that have grown difficult to handle without her master's women to provide oils and comb.
The sounds of the water, unfortunately, mean that she is somewhat unprepared for visitors. Her bow and knife, however... are still within reach.]
04 ↣ WILDCARD ↣ 鬼札
[Hit my plotting comment/send a PM/hit me up on![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
stormcoming if you'd prefer a starter or want to discuss a specific thread you'd like to do!]
WHAT: centaur cryptid action, the angriest breeding season ever, archery, a local lurker probably yelling at kids to get off her misty lawn and stop trying to care about her
WHERE: Lohkimareen [Greentruth heights, misty depths, and forest's edge]
WHEN: Beginning of Visoseri (June)
WARNINGS: potential suicidal ideation, mentions of csa, violence, estrus
01 ➵ IN MISTS [FORESTS BELOW GREENTRUTH]➵ 霧の靡に
[The Aions have been provided lodging among the tall, fortified trees of Greentruth... But one potential member of the Pleroma group has not made use of them a single night. In fact, for the more observant types... the centaur who had been among their number that first night through the portal from Godsblood, who had hung around the edges of the welcome banquet silent, brooding, and angrily eavesdropping... has barely been seen since.
There are whispers, though, the occasional bit of gossip amongst the natives. A man who often works one of the freight elevators that transports supplies up from caravans on the forest floor who complains about an occasional extra load who doesn't even tip. Merchants who talk about being watched by a strange monster or spirit in the mist, shaped like some unnatural combination of mount and man. An armorer who laments that as much as they ought to aid the Aions in their mist, there is just this one who keeps taking shortbows- what is she doing to them?
And if someone were to actually seek out that woman... The search will take them to the dangerous mists below the safety of the Greentruth trees, where shadows play across the mist and large beasts roam. But amongst the tracks left behind by reptiles are faint imprints of hoof, there is a hollow tree that seems to have been made into some sort of crude shelter, game hanging to dry high off the ground and half-prepared pelts stretched out over makeshift racks, and when you turn around-
There might be an arrowhead embedded in a tree near your face, the arrow shaft quivering with the force that has punctured the bark.]
02 ➵ FLETCHER [GREENTRUTH, NEAR GODSBLOOD PORTAL]➵ 矢作り
[There is a downside to the intense aversion Hayame feels to using her shard for so-called "communion". Mainly... she has refused the easy way to know where people are across the planet. To her it is normal, coming as she did from a world in the year 1590 where the most advanced technology consisted of woodblock printing, looms, and matchlock rifles, but...
It means she does a lot of waiting in exchange for trying to keep people out of her head, where she has so much less control than she would like people to think. Risk emotion bleed with inexperience into a conversation that, if held in person, she'd at least be able to control? She does not fancy it.
And in waiting for the man she has commissioned a bow from to appear from Godsblood... she stands (glowers) near the portal from the coastal town, hands crossed beneath her tightly bound breasts. After a few hours... she begins to resent herself for the wasted time, and right there, her large body taking up a decent amount of space near the portal...
She just commandeers a table and starts to work, pulling a feathered kill from its place hanging at her harness and beginning to pluck feathers off it right there, squinting at each one and beginning to cut them into arrow fletching. Sorry, did you need to get past her? Wondering why she's still standing there?
She isn't volunteering. She's working.]
03 ➵ NATURAL DESIRE [RIVER NEAR GREENTRUTH]➵ 発情期
[Hayame has always resented the fact that she was born a woman.
From the moment she had been old enough to watch the empty shell of an Armless woman that was her dam be led to the mounting post each year and understand why, she had known what women were best suited for in a breeding stable. Even as she trained herself in bow and polearm and blade, threw her entire effort into making herself a warrior who would be bought by a warlord to bring him victories in battle, the possibility of being sold as a broodmare or "companion" mount had always been a possibility. Always.
And nothing was a better reminder of the femininity she strove to cover with bindings, strength, and harshness than a jinba mare's heats. The urges frustrate her as they always do, turn normal scents in the air to tempting aromas, make her body into a traitor willing to lift her tail with interest at the sight of potential mates, and force her to burn with desire that anyone with a proper nose or eye would notice.
Which is what has led Hayame to the cold mountain river she is now immersed in up to her lower shoulders, letting the water wash away proof of her want and cool her body. Thinking herself alone... she allows herself the luxury of a moment of weakness, letting down her fetlock-length ebony hair and trying to work her fingers through the tangled strands that have grown difficult to handle without her master's women to provide oils and comb.
The sounds of the water, unfortunately, mean that she is somewhat unprepared for visitors. Her bow and knife, however... are still within reach.]
04 ↣ WILDCARD ↣ 鬼札
[Hit my plotting comment/send a PM/hit me up on
no subject
[She mocks him with the words that she finds worthless, meaningless, when they come from someone who she does not know and prescribes not to care to know. Throws them back at him as if to dare him to tell her why that does a damn thing for her or for anyone, why she shouldn't just leave right now.
The problem with biting, with lunging, with escalating as quickly as Hayame was known to, however... Is that it leaves very little room for retreating with any dignity. Not that there was any dignity in retreating, the coward's choice to a woman raised on the harsh, black and white lines of a warrior's honor. She bets constantly on winning or dying, even in her arguments and petty clashes, too quick to throw everything out...
So what is left to her but to either beat him like a dog, as she had before, or seem to admit that he is right by leaving with her tail between her legs? As much as she wants to run from him and his words that for half a second had almost seemed well-meaning and nearly trustworthy...]
Don't you dare speak to me of what Matsukaze would say.
[She knows it's gone on too long. She's shown too much. She's let herself be goaded into saying more than she should have, and yet... She cannot excuse that insult, that audacity, snarling her warning with a pointed end of her bow jabbed up and dangerously near the fool's face, not even wanting to touch him, or anyone, with her hands as if she was some common beast that did not know the tools of the civilized.]
You do not know him. You do not know me.
[And if she never made it back? If she never got to tell him that she wished- That she wished if she had ever known a man-]
Or must I beat you again like a dog to make that sense reach your brain?
no subject
[ there is a pleading edge in his voice, in his eyes as he beseeches her. despite the barely restrained violence and the asperity, all Abel can see with each escalation, each protest she thrusts his way, is how very wounded she is. it's like a gaping wound being exposed to the air and he could not be more aware of its existence, can't avert his gaze from it now he's been made aware it's there.
...he implores her. earnestly. it is all he can do; he cannot force her into this - but for her to remain like this is a miserable fate he wouldn't wish on anyone. he cannot leave her this way. ]
Please. If I don't know, then... tell me. I want to understand, alright...? I'll listen to anything you have to say, listen to anything you say at all. All you have to do, is... sit with me, and try.
no subject
His words make it sound so easy. All she had to do is tell him. Tell him what it was that had lodged those first shards of hatred and despair into her hearts under the guise of pride and honor, and just keep telling him of every single occasion where those shards had been driven deeper, so deep that at one point she’d even been able to fool herself into thinking she wasn’t hemorrhaging at each breath.
And now… Anyone who looks at her can see them. Perhaps it was her change to pluck them out… but instead, she just resorts to what she knows. Trying to hide them. Shove them back in.]
Tell you. Tell everyone about myself to a man who does not even know my name?
[There are so many things she could say, there, and her name is what comes out. She hasn’t heard-
She hasn’t heard someone call her name in so long.]
Do not make me laugh.
[Yet her expression of rage and fear, confusion and defensive bravado, are anything but near laughter, even for a forced joke. As much as she hates to turn her back, to look the coward and retreat… this fool is stubborn, and if she killed him…
Of course. If she killed him, those “Pleroma” would come bother her even worse.]
If you are not gone from my territory by the time I return from my hunt, I will shoot you in the leg.