That's right! While I was away, Hyacinth became an adult deer. So now...it is time to celebrate!

Please help spell-spam her today, and help answer important questions like 'should she wear doe antlers, or just flowers?'

I've been sitting alone at home, being sad this past little while: I've been having major connective issues. I am sorry I did not say so sooner, but they have resolved themselves.

Anything new going on?

Right, so now it's time to ask some questions for me or mah deers. While Seed and Faris will take their questions themselves, I'll do all the verbal answering for Hyacinth, since she doesn't talk.

This means that you may not always get the most honest answers, but then again, neither Seed nor Faris are big in the lie department.

For some background information...
Hycanith's Bio
Faris's Bio
Seed's Bio

Ask Away!

Sir Faris, Knight-Errant of the forest, may often come across the wrong way, due to his love of battle. It should be known and clear, however, that he has yet to fight with anger in his heart (though he's found some occaison to lower the antlers); he loves and respects each of his opponents as brothers (and sisters) in arms.

In this spirit, I present the Wall of Valor, a perpetually updating gallery of Faris's opponents (and allies) meant to honor their fighting spirit. We salute them!


[center]The Wall of Valor


An Uknown Stag, 1-24-09 (Faris's stag day)


Spade, 2-06-09


Poltergeist, Pride, and Fenkovan, 2-12-09


Uio, 2-14-09


Uio and Pride, 2-14-09


Mar Sart, 3-01-09


Magnet, 3-01-09


GoldenWinged, 3-01-09



Peony, 3-02-09


Unknown Deer (possibly Kailani?) , 3-20-09


Mar Sart, 3-20-09

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I don't like writing these entries when something dramatic has been going on, for a number of reasons. But I think today I must, to try and explain my own actions and my inactions.

Go ahead, ask me my part in all of this. Ask me my part in this or any other story, and I will tell you the same answer: I am the fool, the first card of the tarot, well-intentioned but innefective, aware of the cliff only after he steps off of it -- but, on the way down, coming close to understanding the cliff. I am the poet, who makes nothing happen. I am Romeo as Mercutio is stabbed beneath his arm. That is my part in all of this, if I can even grant it that much drama, or that much purpose, if I am willing to grant my intentions some nobility (which I am only partially willing to do).

I woke up to a light but driving fog, the sky and all its clouds brought down to our level. In the distance, I could hear someone casting a spell, and the sound being warped by the mist, turning into a strange, whistling shriek. I should have taken that as an omen: I should have stayed under the bridge. I did not, and had a rather peaceful morning, which is not the point of this entry.

It began with Walter and I being setless. I had awoken to find Lemon, and Walter found us. We started trying to get ourselves fully clad and -- really -- it was a good time. Until, somewhen, Lemon wandered off: she says Walter shoo'ed her, and perhaps he did, and perhaps he did not. I didn't see it, either way, so it seemed that she just...wandered off. She started roaring in the distance, but, well, we still weren't done: Walter needed his antlers. And he was getting impatient. He was getting upset.

((This is just a story about Seed, taken one chapter at a time, with not a whole lot of planning, I have to admit. Enjoy my overly-vague, short prologue.))

All stories begin, in some way or another, with “once upon a time.” That time is simply subject to variance. Everything has a time, even stories like this, which happened not entirely in time. There are flowers that grew, blossomed, and died; their seeds are now beginning to grow. A new ring has been added, expanding out last year's ring. Last year’s hatchlings build their nests. That is when this story happened.

“Are you happy?” They asked him. They had asked him it all the time, since fawnhood: he had stopped listening, because he couldn’t stand to be asked it. He knew, at times, he could answer it. And, more often than not, he couldn’t.

He could watch his friends assembled, each with their beloved, and he with his own, each inside their own little microcosm, each bound by laws of attraction as they ran, looping back on one another, connected as the tiny balls of juice that made up a blue berry…How could he say that he wasn’t happy, when he was wanting, as he was, to take that moment and stretch it out like a silk cocoon being unraveled.

When he was sitting on his favorite rock, with nothing but the birds for the company he wanted, with a spot next to him left hollow, with the moments between when she – or anyone else – was with him seeming to stretch out as wide and empty as the space between the stars...how could he give an answer, feeling as he felt, when it was better if he didn’t answer that way?

The best choice, though, was to clamp his ears down tight and stop listening to those voices, dreamed or real or half-remembered.

I considered whether or not to write an entry today: I've not done so for a while; I doubt my voice is well-missed. And then I think that I should not think like that. But that, in turn, leads me to the reason I don't feel so immediately compelled to write here: when I think about my feelings about today, I feel so...petty. So small. I feel ashamed writing this, which only makes the feelings I'm writing about worse. I wonder if maybe I was expecting too much, or if I gave up too soon...But I doubt it. In the end, I decided not to go in full account of today: It only serves to re-inforce a few simple points:

First, thank you particularly to Blackhoof, 21, Zerg, and Terrant.

Second, as long as I live, which I intend to be as near as forever as I can manage, I will never have another birthday.


((I'm a little under the weather, which probably doesn't help Seed's mood much...on the other hand, he's been pretty happy later, and nature abhors a happy Seed, so this is probably essential for the universe to maintain homeostasis...Happy Birthday anyway, my little angsty one.))

Or, if it's not (there's some doubt), then it is at least close enough, and I'm choosing to celebrate his birthday anyway ^^

Happy maybe-birthday, Seed!

[center]
Hyacinth
((*picture forthcoming...Eventually.
Doing some small revamps and eventually adding a picture. I feel bad for neglecting her...))


Gender
Female

Age
Vernal

"Disability"
As further explained/explored below, she is entirely mute, although her hearing and understanding of words are fine.

Family
None, though she would love to have some

Special Friends (not like that, ya perv!)
Aaren
Blackhoof
Toukan
(She would always love more)


Appearance
Hyacinth is a a slight and slender doe. There's something awkward and fluttery about the way she moves, but there are hints at a delicate, doll-like grace to her. She has big, sad eyes the color of a new spring leaf surrounded by pale, thick lashes. She is most often in the Great Argus pelt, fond as she is of the shimmering gold and the paint-like touches of blue on the face. She wears the Golden Butterfly mask less for any aesthetic reason and more because it's her favorite of the masks she can stand to hear roar. The purple flowers hanging from her antlers have particular clusters dangling on each side of her face like bangs or earrings -- she's had a life-long (multi-life-long) fascination with flowers, and the purple looks the best on the bright sky blue of her bare antlers.


Personality

Well, earlier this afternoon, I was debating about what to do regarding my desire for a third deer. While I was thinking about this, I was browsing through pictograms, and I found one that spoke to me.

Hyacinth's Picto

I chose, as you see, to call the little doe-fawn it belongs to Hyacinth, after my favorite flower. I don't know her story yet, but unlike Seed and Faris, who were born without me thinking about if they had a story, I know she has a backstory, probably not a happy one: I get the impression, oddly, of ripping flower petals...

I gave her a little romp through the forest over, and while it was happy overall, I did discover a trait of hers: she is afraid of roaring noises up close, so if you saw her shivering at seemingly random intervals, it was becase she was near a deer that just roared. I already know that there are two exceptions to this fear: the sound the skull mask makes wouldn't scare her, and neither would the golden butterfly mask.

That's what I know about her thusfar.