Legends ofAmarna

Warning! The anathema is here.

The doctrine that poisoned the souls of many, that wrought blood against blood, life against life. Aspasia has not been the same, nor will it ever be. As history fades into legend, and legend into myth, so too are the whispers of peace that had once brought each of the races together in harmony. As such a time faded into history, so does the chaos grow - the resentment that breeds loathing - that brings about war.

With the world pitted against each other, each race, equines, canines, and felines taking sides, the question is, which side will you choose?

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Open Asking For Forgiveness

played by Hermes

Timber Wolf

Tracker / Plotter



Home is where the heart is.

At least, that is she what has been told. But the young girl’s heart has been restless. Perhaps that is why she had wandered, why she had shirked her duties and escaped to explore. Or maybe it was because she was a coward at heart. Either way, her feet now find themselves pulling her towards a looming castle in the distance.

Word had reached her ears, even in the vast wilderness where she had roamed, that her brother Tiarsus has taken his seat as ruler of the wolves. This did not surprise Mags. Kate had been born to be a king. His entire upbringing revolved around one day taking the throne in their homeland.

A sad smile passes across the young one’s lips.

Her brother had not shrunk away, he had not run. Instead Kate had faced destiny, squared his shoulders and taken the responsibility of his people. Mags could not be prouder of her brother. She loves him and knows he is a great ruler.

Her mind is pulled to Vivendel. She hopes he is well, happy and keeping out of trouble. She loves him and hopes he knows she is proud of him too.

While Magnolia had been away she found that her wolf form was not her only form. With much experimenting she found that her elven body was still with her. That is how she appears now, an elven girl, her gown’s skirt tied up to avoid the dust that sticks to the hardpan earth. Exposed feet walk the well-worn pathway toward the looming towers.

Stomach twists and knots as thoughts of her homecoming spin and turn around in her head. Will she be welcomed? Will her brother hate her? Is Ava alright? Does the young girl despise her weakness?

Mags would not blame them if they loath the sight of her. Hell, she half hopes they do hate her for being a coward, lord knows she has spent enough hours looking into rivers and cursing herself.

Father would be so mad with her. His voice bounces around inside her skull, her imagined responses to him finding out he had raised a weakling.

Tears sting her eyes and threaten to run down her face. Pausing in her forward motion to swipe a hand angrily at her eyes, she allows herself a moment to gather some resemblance of serenity.

Calmed, for the moment, the teen continues forward.

The air is oppressive, hot and muggy. What little rain the spring had offered only seemed to make the land thirst for more. Dead grass and brown leaves, litter either side of the path.

The girl pays them no mind, instead turning her attention to the stronghold. It is almost upon her, the intimidating building, the potential reunion. It was now or never.

Feet pause momentary at the threshold, eyes roaming over to the guards on either side of the door. People flock into and out of the great edifice. Deep breath in and she pushes forward. Cool stone soothes her aching feet and the girl follows the flow of the crowd as they make their way deeper into the stone fortress.

People jostle and bump her; the air is thick with people talking and laughing. It is too much.

Breaking off, Mags find a lone corridor where the hustle and bustle dies down, allowing her a moments peace.

Just when she thinks that she can do this, that she can face anything, anxiety rips through her chest, doubling the girl over and stealing her breath. Heart pounds as tears drip down her face. She is alone, a chicken and weakling. Ragged sobs rip from her throat and she sends up a silent prayer to her father and whoever is listening, ‘Please, give me strength.’

I walk. "I talk". I think.
Words: 631 | Tags:  | OOC: Mags is back! <3 
"Not all who wander are lost."

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