@DogTag: Determined people! XD


@Junalia Ha, well thanks very much, I liked the picture too, but the CSS was making me absolutely crazy so everyone will have to put up with Herla in a potato sack for now. I honestly didn’t think anyone would care or notice anyway. >.>

WHO ACTUALLY READS MY DRIBBLE

@Tuoho: Happy to bring some joy. ^_^

Edit: *steals her own new page*

Oh man, I'm loving this new css! I love how you showcased all the art with thumbnails. 10/10 would view again

Truly beautiful CSS~ it matches her so well. <3 Also, will always and forever love that family art. ;u;

@Norin, thank you! The coding was done by Alcinda. Mis helped me a ton too. I just like making art, CSS hates me, ha! And I’ve always had the thumbnails on Herla’s bio, used to be hidden behind a tab though, decided I wanted to showcase it a little more predominantly with this layout, that’s a lot of work done by both myself and others and I like to display my gratitude a little.

@HolyMaria, it was good to see your deer! I think they have only met in passing before. Had to huddle under the rock to escape the snow today. Nuzzles for you!

@RikkaChan, thank you! I like that picture a lot too.

@Poppyflower, Thanks! Good to see Gwen too! And yuck lag, finally decent for me today get to use my home internet finally, ha!

Thank you Snowsauria! <3 (Very belated reply ;_; )

And just a bump, I added a link Herla’s cheesy tumblr. >.>

A very breathtaking bio, if I do say so myself.

Trrrack !
i don't even remember if i track this already ;_;

@kicy3, thanks for the track!

@Nazzard Thanks for the track! And sure, I wouldn’t mind! Herla is a healer, though she only recently discovered her own Fae heritage but I think it could be interesting. You can post an interaction here if you like, though I’m about to shoot off to work so wouldn’t be able to get back to it for a while today likely.

The fever had peaked, sending the stag into vivid hallucinations of his homeland, the forest had come alive with the smells and visions that came with the fae realm. Verities of plants long since extinct flourished, vibrant birds called and fluttered their showy plumage for the innocent attention of their onlookers. It went on for hours, till there was just enough lull in the visions for Genty to grasp that his reality was the forest. With that realization, all the pent up pain from the infection stemming within his bones came rushing back, hitting him in the chest like kick in the gut. A few racking coughs shook his body, duel toned eyes glazing. The bells adorning his body rattled in a way that seemed to scream that his life force was fading, his body bending to the will of death.

She had to be nearby, every instinct he had screamed at him to call out. To ask for her aid. He hadn't wanted to meet on these terms, however, fate seemed to be forever getting its way. A pleasant bundle of rare flowers, that was his original plan, but then that wretched ram did what he did and left him in ruin. When he finally mustered the energy, his voice was cracked and gravelly from a mixture of dryness and lack of use. For a moment words failed him, the fog in his mind causing the creation of words to become a blur. "Fae healer, please my body, it is broken." The whisper that he managed was feeble and likely didn't travel far. Slumping against the tree only a few paces away from the crying idol, the fae appeared entirely defeated.

OOC: There you go ^^, if you ever feel like switching this to a skype chat feel free to let me know.

Of course his instincts had been correct, for a vaguely familiar scent brushed past his nares. The feathered doe he'd watched from afar, a curiosity he'd never caved to and the healer he'd heard so much about. Of course, it was innocent interest and nothing more. When she came into view, Genty's duel toned eyes fluttered open. The image of her was distorted and hazy, almost as if looking through swirled glass. For a moment the hallucinations threatened to come back, turning the distorted image of the doe into a scene of water and sunrise; a play upon her colors.

With a shake of his head that loosed a few pale cream petals from the crown upon his brow, he cleared his mind allowing for a small snippet of clarity. While he stared speechless, the petals that had fallen from his crown touched the ground with vibrant flashes of life, followed by the eager growth of seedlings. It was an unintentional display, but one that happened often around the feathered stag. It hinted that he was more than 'normal'.

Lowering his head, he attempted a soft smile. It was an attempt for the stag to show that he was unarmed and not seeking to harm her nor the children he'd seen prance around. As a fae, he was able to identify those with the genes of his kin by the almost inaudible hum of their magic imbued blood. Her nervous actions caused him to take care with his words, wary of scaring his only link to recovery away. "Healer, I do not seek to harm you or those you love. It it not within my power to be cruel to innocents." He coaxed, voice gentle. He was unable to lie, so the words were sincere

"Yes, it is healing I require." He managed right before yet another wave of illness washed over his features. For a moment his dual toned eyes twitched and his body spasmed, it wasn't quite a seizure, but one was certainly on the horizon. His frantically healing fae body was currently killing him, rather than mending him as it should. It's abnormal healing rate causing much more damage to the broken limb and festering infection than anything.

OOC: Sorry for the novel, I started writing and couldn't stop. I tend to have way too much muse for Genty and no where to vent it. I always understand that rl comes first, so don't worry. A post comes when it comes ^^.

The giant posessed one odd skill in the bunch. Being big came with a lot of hassle, but there was one thing he had been trained in.
Being absolutely silent.
And with that silence he had long come nearby, in the dead spot of the wounded's vision. By then he walked past the large tree that blocked him from his partners view as well, giving her a knowing nod. I’m here, I’m watching. Some of the words uttered by the, apparently other Fae confused Gehirn. Why would he start by mentioning he wasn’t going to harm those she loves? Gehirn had much the same thought process here as Herla. Fae had come to kill their child before, they had been warned they could try again. But this one seemed hurt enough, who knew how. Could have been it’s own kind, now knowing how vicious those could be. Allies were always welcome.

He stopped his movement then, his eyes had been focused on the ground in his thoughts. He would observe the odd male for a moment. Seemed pretty out of it. There had been plenty of wounded around as of late, so it didn’t seem too much of a trick to him. Finally he’d lock eyes with Herla, and give her another nod. This time his expression more calm. She could do this, and if anything would happen, he’d be there to end it.

(*Sneaks in >8D)

Herla did not alter her expression when she spied Gehirn moving stealthily through the shadows of the forest to take up a position behind the unknown male, though relief flooded her. Ruby eyes met his crimson ones for the briefest flicker, but it was all she’d allow, not wanting to give away his presence. Fae could be powerful, very powerful and her mate’s impressive size did not automatically ensure victory if the confrontation to turn to battle, surprise had been the only way they’d overcome Woden and Herla had remembered the lesson well.

The male looked and smelled sick. Her senses told her it was so. But Herla knew what Fae could do. What she could do. In the outside world, out of reach of this forest’s natural suppression of her inborn magic, Herla had wielded strong magic, she’d veiled herself in Glamour, hidden in plain view of both man and beast and called a tiger to its death. It’d been her mate, Gehirn who’d dealt the death, but it’d been the small feathered doe that had led it to its fate. She had hardly any time to explore the true extent of what Glamour could achieve but she’d had time enough to think on it. And it scared the hell out of her. Woden could wield Glamour to change his very form, it was a belief magic so strong altered actual reality.

Feigning injury with it seemed an easy leap in Herla’s view.

“The Liviitine line,” she repeated the name, not having any clue what it meant of course but she’d file it away for further research. Herla did not outline her own descent from Cernunnos and Danu. A Lurulan. She felt his magic brushing against her seeking to influence her. She hardened herself against it pushing with her own magic to shield herself, refusing to be lulled by it. She frowned when he said he’d heard rumors of her heritage. It didn’t please her. She and her family where here to hide.

His tale of purgatory confused her. Though she had heard tales enough of those here who claimed to have former lives before arriving here. Past lives and reincarnations so the idea was not completely foreign to her. “I think you’ll find this place as real and hard as any other,” she answered her tone still even, “And maybe you have, you do look very unwell.”

When another convulsion seemed to grip the male Herla kept her distance though the cut of flow of his magic perhaps caught her attention most of all, and her eyes may have widened at it. That could be faked too, but it did a bit more to convince her his injuries were not artifice. She took a few hesitant steps toward him now, dipping her head carefully, she let her lips touch his forehead and felt the fever there before quickly withdrawing on skittish hooves, uncertain what to do.

The reply that had been forming on his lips never came. Rather, his body simply slid against the tree to the ground, every ounce of energy depleted. When her lips brushed against his brow, the sensation that came with stepping into the summer sunlight could be felt. That sort of innocent happiness that bundled in ones heart, the innocence of a child playing outside simply enjoying life. It was his essence, pure brilliant white light that held no shadows, no evil, no abnormal wishes. To kill such a creature would only put out a light that would be better used to chase shadows from the hearts of many.

Once he'd passed out, their conversation went unheard and his magic slowly began to fade. The bells that adorned his body every so slowly faded from brilliant gold to a cold pale silver, until finally they turned to the tiny pebbles they once were. Thousands of them tumbled from his body, rolling to the ground to rest in small clusters. The crown upon his head had began to wither, the flowers curling in-upon themselves and dropping to the ground to begin new life. Herbs, saplings, flowers, and common greenery creeped into existence, rare and common sprouted around his head. However, where the sproutlings once would have flourished, creeped to life as if it were insanely difficult, if not impossible.

His facial features paled farther, an ashen color combining with the flush from the fever. Now upon his side, the broken leg could be seen clearly, the flesh along his hock red and angry. It was swollen severely and a thin trail of pus and blood leaked from a puncture where the bone had broken skin. Death was upon the stag and the only thing that told the world he was alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

The pebbles made even him step back, although he quickly came forward again in a motion to start stomping the plants sprouting up. That was some weird junk he did not want to deal with. Gehirn stopped in his tracks though when Herla told him not to kill him yet. Maybe trying not to stomp on him kind of tied in with that. ”Learn something? How?” Was she going to cut him open?

Not all the way dead. Gotcha. For a second he wondered if anything in this forest ever actually died. If that word even had meaning.
Gehirn watched on as she got her pouches out. Seemed she was fairly set on trying to help. Alright, well. Walking over to the crying idol, the male bend his head down to catch some of the tears in his fan-like antlers, walking back as he kept his head bend forward. Gently he would sit down next to Herla, lowering his head so she had access to the water. It seemed quicker than going to their home to get a basket. And possibly the most useful thing he could do. Except bashing his head in. That was still an option.
He wasn’t that much for killing random strangers though. But as soon as things started falling from their head and sprouting plants, all bets were off.

Herla stood back as Gehirn stomped at the seeming animate plant life that convulsed around the fallen Fae. She wouldn’t try to stop him, he was stomping and the prudent thing was to stay out of the way. He was very big.

And yes, she was going to cut him open in fact. “I’ve never met any other Fae before. None living that is. Except for Woden. I want to talk to him,” she explained to her husband, as she pulled out a tiny knife from her packets and swiftly and with practiced skill lanced the pus filled abscess on the unconcious male’s hock. It drained satisfyingly upon the mossy forest floor. The knife was made from flint knapped obsidian. Not iron or steal. It was very tiny and very sharp. She also used it for butchering game. “That’s my favorite part,” she smiled, now dipping some clean moss in the water Gehirn had brought over in his antlers, using it to clean the wounds, “Clever,” she told him, when he’d brought the water over. She would not have preferred to be left alone with the Fae, unconscious or not, while Gehirn had gone to fetch water baskets. She was returning more to her old self and perhaps a little less jittery with the Fae’s magic dampened and not battering her senses anymore.

“We still know so very little of the Fae,” she spoke further as she worked, cleaned the various wounds she found and packing them with poultices, a slurry of herbs that sped healing, slowed infection and staunched blood flow. Nothing magical about any of this that Herla did, just an in-depth knowledge of plants and mixing medicines from them. Broad leaves covered the stag in a patch work soon enough. “Ah ouch, broken. Very broken,” She eyed the broken leg, it would need splinting. She’d have to get some sturdy enough branches for the task. But that could wait. It was a bad injury though, one that would likely lead to chronic disability in this forest. Stopping bleeding had been first on the list though. She would try to dribble a bit of water in his mouth and hope his swallow reflex would still be present enough he could take it in. She made a mix of crushed willow root and honey and tried to get that down the male too. Something for the swelling and fever and some sugar. Water to help make up for the blood loss.

She wondered if what she was doing would be of any help to the injured Fae, the shriveling of his magic, while a relief at first worried her more now. It really did seem he was dying perhaps. The threat seeming diminished for the moment she found she really did want to get a chance to talk to him.

((Hello Char! Waddle away, glad you could join! ))

“I can understand that. Wanting to talk to him.” It seemed easier to talk to someone who hadn’t tried to kill your child about your own kind. The irish felt himself jump a little at the sight of Herla cutting open the abscess. A shudder going down his spine. His expression didn’t really change from shock when Herla said that was her favorite part.
At least he could help by being a living water bucket. He even got called clever for it.

“And you want to know more of the Fae I suppose?” He wondered if cutting one open was going to help with that. To him, everything looked the same on the inside. Red and mushy. He watched her go about her business calmly, like an oiled machine she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. His eyes wandered to the leg when Herla mentioned it was very broken. It did indeed look like that. He’d seen her work on broken legs before. “Do you need sticks?” He asked, pretty sure what the answer was. He sure wasn’t about to leave either. Had an important task to fulfill, being a water bucket and all.

His eyes turned towards movement rapidly, his antlers swiveling along quickly. Gehirn lowered the wall of tines towards the approacher, causing the water he had gathered to pour down in between them in small waterfalls. “Halt.” He said, before quickly gathering himself upon his legs. His burly form quickly overshadowed the approaching male. Gehirn wasn’t going to take any risks, it did seem Herla wanted to talk to this Fae, so any predator was going to need to be deterred from the smell. On second glance, this didn’t look like a predator. “What do you want?” He decided to ask, lifting his head only slightly so he could look at the figure from under his antlers.

(PARTY HATS *hands them out* )

-pokes head in-
Oh, hey. Party
I was just wondering if Herla or Neela are usually open for roleplay sand interactions and stuff?

(( I shot you an email to keep from spamming up your blog.^^ ))

Ymir raised a leg as his weight shifted to his back legs. A stance that provided the gesture of fleeing should the much larger male charge him. There was no way he'd stand a chance against those antlers should they greet his flesh.

"I- I am here because of him," he answered. An undesired quiver settling in his limbs, causing the fur along his spine, though hidden by the black cloak he wore, to rise. "He's my friend." Placing his hoof down when the other raised their head, he went on. Eyes glancing from Genty to the stag before him, brows knitting together. "My name is Ymir, and I am no fae... I had left Genty on his own in order to find someone or something to slow and maybe perhaps stop his ailments. I'm only coming back from one such outing. I had not expected the doe I was to be looking for to find him before I found her." He offered a nervous smile, ducking his head with something like embarrassment. The action caused the hood of his cloak to fall over his face.

[ -Throws confetti- Yis. I think I totally messed up the posting order, UH, is it Nazzard, Sight, Mis, and then me? Or Nazzard, Sight, Me, and then Mis? 8c ]

At his name, a long tapered ear twitched. It didn't mean much, other than that he was slowly returning to consciousness. That is, unless his bone was set before then, that would certainly knock him flat. Due to his unnatural healing speed, the shattered bone had fused in a few unsavory places, therefore required rebreaking. It would be both traumatic and painful to the Fae's already weakened body, however, if not preformed he would walk with a sever limp. A limp that extreme would mean that he'd become a target to those looking for slow pickings. He'd never be able to flee from situations where his life and potentially others were endangered. With no other means of defense other than muted light and plant magics, it would leave him in a bad place.

With any luck, once set, the leg would heal to the point where the stag only suffered a slight alteration in his gait. It would be painful to run, however, he'd still be able to flee if need be. As time passed, color began to creep back into his pallid skin, his life force hanging on by a thin rope, rather than a delicate string. Not quite out of the woods, he at least looked to have a chance. The magic that typically surrounded him was still oddly absent, which to most would be more unnerving than if the tell tell predictable hum still radiated from his body.

(Note taken, I'm typically pretty good about not mind reading and just assuming things off of body posture. However, if I slipped up, my bad D: Oh yeah, I forgot to ask, Mis can I add you on skype?)

Shaking the hood back off of him, Ymir nodded along with the list of things the larger one said, taking note. Reeds would be by the pond, and on the way he could possibly pull off the slim branches on the nearest trees or bushes. It was like killing two birds with one stone. Kinda. Alright.

When Genty began to flail, Ymir's gaze turned back to his friend. His brow knitting with worry until he calmed, and only when he calmed did the buck move forward and dip his head to look over the wound. Nose wrinkling a bit at the stench of sickness coming from his leg, but nonetheless he held a look of determination as he stood up and backed away, eyes glancing at the others before trailing to the ground. All the while biting his cheek absentmindedly.

The homonculus somewhat understood the tension that seemed to linger between the four as they all stood there. Trust. There was very little of it, possibly none at all. His mental image nodded, getting it. He, too, wasn't exactly one to trust on contact so he could settle on their level. Hence why he kept up the submissive body language so as to not call for a reason to distrust him or Genty. Keep your head low, your attitude lower, and maybe you won't find yourself being thrown to kingdom come.

"Oh! Reeds, right," he collected himself, and was quick to pick up into a trot, curving an arc around the trio in respect to their space, before dropping into a lope toward the pond. Reeds grew like weeds here, and getting his fur a little wet never came to mind as he. He was just happy, maybe even ecstatic, that the thought of his friend's health getting better was in a more greatly held percentage than it had been before.

Though the sudden adrenaline rush in his legs called for action, Ymir was patient when it came to pulling out each and every reed at the base. Picking long, healthy looking ones and throwing the browning ones back into the water whenever one happened to come up. He was being careful. When it came to scouting for healthy branches, the buck had more luck within the bushes. Only a few trees held full ones. He even found himself jumping up at one, grabbing it in his teeth, and yanking it off. Nearly stumbling when his long legs found the ground again.

After getting together a cluster of each item and shoving the majority of it in a saddlebag at his side, Ymir made his way back with a sturdy walk. Breath coming out in small huffs from his nose as perspiration built up on the underside of his neck and just along his crown. It was probably the most scurrying he had done since the day he left his homeland on that night.

The medicine worked swiftly, spreading through his body like wildfire and culling the life threatening infection. It dampened his fever and guided his confused immune system to aiding in killing off the infection. It would take days before he was 100%, but this was a start. Fae typically healed quite quickly, never down for longer than a week or two. Genty had been down for almost two due to his body's confusion and it was obvious why.

As those around him left, the fae's frazzled body relaxed and his mind slowly came around to conciseness. Duel toned eyes fought to open, his mind confused and unaware as to what exactly was going on. It didn't last long and he swiftly was dragged back into the realm of unconsciousness, this time however it being the gentle lull of sleep.

Ymir craned his neck, trying to see if he could spot things on Genty, but the doe, Herla, seemed to be just as astonished as he was when he noted how calm and less fidgety Genty had become during the time he'd been off hunting for the needed supplies. Never mind how much better looking he seemed.

A part of him wanted to settle by his friend, but another part warded him away. He didn't want to get in Herla's way after all. Instead, he took up a spot nearby, standing guard or so. Who knew what could be lurking just beyond the trees?

"I am a bit new here," he explained, eyes set on Genty as Herla worked. "I don't come from here, but it's like I was made for this place." Casting a look about at the trees, the buck took a sigh to calm the energies within him. Almost like how someone would do so in order to calm their heart after a long run. "My homeland is beyond the wall of Endlos, er, this endless forest. It's a bit of a story..." Again he set to chewing the inside of his cheek as he laid down. He'd barely given Genty the full story of his running away from home, and speaking about it to strangers made him feel a bit unsettled even more so. It was information he wasn't very willing to be descriptive about just yet.

But if he were to explain some of it, perhaps it'd make the title of complete stranger blow away.

"I'm not made of flesh and blood like so many here," he explained. "I was created, not born. A homunculus." He brought a hoof forward, drawing a few simple alchemy symbols in the dirt before crossing them out. One of them being his own marking. "My creator was a human magus. In short, things went foul and I found myself here. Where I met Genty. He was the first." Silvery, pupil less eyes turned up toward Gehirn and then Herla, a small frown making the corner of his lips twitch.

"It is why I worry." He smiled then as if he were remembering some sweet memory. "Good friends are hard to find."

Within Genty's mind, fog swirled and he was surrounded by dancing shadows with faded voices. The only light source was himself and though dim it was enough to notice the ground beneath him was that of fae crafted stone. Tile's placed in intricate swirling patterns that if gazed upon could make observer dizzy. Why was he there though, he'd been sent away from his home to recover. There was no logical way that he was actually home. Glancing around and placing a tentative hoof upon the stone, called out in fae. The words achingly beautiful, haunting in their own way. When seemingly hours passed without a reply from the surrounding whispers, he gave himself a good shake which jolted his sickly body up and away from the strange half dream.

Once lidded eyes faltered before whispering open, long dark lashes fluttering as his vision cleared. Breathing quickened from the shallow rise and fall of a sleeper. "Ymir?" He questioned, sounding like death, as the tan blur came into focus. Though they were speaking, their words were too distorted to make any sense to the ill fae. Even after flicking his ears into better positions to catch sound, they still sounded far off and distant.

One word however, did come through. Rebreak. A word that send a chill of cold fear spidering down his spine. "Rebreak?" He echoed, the whisper so faint that there was little doubt that anyone managed to hear it. Falling silent, the fae went onto that bizzare edge of awareness and slumber. Where dreams seemed like reality and reality seemed like a dream.