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Description
+6 AP for 3 fullbodies, +6 AP for shading, +3 AP for complex BG

+5 Favor and +10 CS for Chapter Art rewards

+15 AP total for Honour (for when she gets in)

Gianna is looking mighty devious. Him lacking his pupils is intentional, yes. His dark, antagonistic side came out in this chapter. It was fun B)
Rae was too worried about Iscah to notice the real threat. Hehehe

Edit: I just realized I forgot the blood on the foal...oops. Let's pretend it's there >_>

Gianna | Emissary

It was just like the stories of old. Alya's people warring with Ignacio's. And just like times past, the sweet sea mother's child stood neutral in this battle. Silent.

The loud, arguing equine terrified the newborn; not understanding their words because of his newness. He clumsily tripped away from the rising voices, out from under Rae, to a quieter soul. The bloodied colt stained the white of his refuge's legs. Now, cowering under the stoic but steady Gianna, the little one felt safe once more. The tall dark horse did not falter. He needn't meet the little one's eyes to know his fear, the shaking made it obvious. As most children are, he was attracted to steadiness, consistency not this..bickering.

"Um," was all Gianna could muster as thoughts raced through his head. Contemplating, the marwari tried to figure this situation out. Should he even intervene? The answers seemed blatant from his perspective. How come no one else could see? If only the foal was more experienced, maybe then he could sense the malice radiating from his emotionless protector. Whichever herd the child belonged to (or would belong to) was most definitely debatable but one thing wasn't: If there was no foal then there would be no fighting over it's life.

Yet something urged Gianna to attempt to reason with these barbarians. Perhaps it was the mother of the sea. So be it.

"Don't Serorans believe that all life is precious?" His gentle tone finally breaking it's silence as he stayed in place, some distance away from all the others. "Here is this tiny life, already being exposed to the realities of this world. Don't you see how he trembles because of the violence?" Gianna paused, glancing at all of them, thinking of his words before saying them. "When given the chance, he chose neither of you."

Reaffirming his point, Gianna took a stronger but nonthreatening stance. Still hovering over the newborn. "If you were on a cliff, your brother and a stranger clinging to the edge, which would you save? You cannot choose both because life doesn't work that way. Both choices are evil, clearly. You're ending someone's life." Gianna snorted. His eyes serious. "The correct choice: pick the sin you can live with."

Abram | Bondmate

For several agonizing, surreal moments measured in the heaving of his ribcage, Abram remained turned away from the rest of the group, his eyes focused unseeing on the crude canvas walls of the tent. But some part of his brain- the diplomat in him, perhaps- was keeping tabs on the conversation, and eventually the information made its haphazard way to the forefront of his thoughts.

Abram blinked, turned.

“You shame Serora,” he told the group harshly, pain and despair lending a sharp edge to the normally mild stallion’s words. His gaze flickering over Stefan, Rae and Kilorn, Abram stomped a hoof angrily. “We are not alone; comport yourselves with dignity and give our guests a modicum of respect. Never in all my time as an Ambassador was I treated so rudely as you do so to our ladies here.” He let out a tight breath, tail snapping once in agitation. “We are Seroran; we rise above such behavior.”

He turned his heavy gaze to the two Ambassadors, struggling for a semblance of calm. Because the truth of the matter was that he wished, in his deepest heart, to rail at them as well, to tell them to ride a fresh wind right on out of here and leave them all be. But he could not. He meant it, when he told his group to maintain pleasantries. They were not snarling, mindless animals, but Alya’s chosen.

“Please forgive our rudeness,” he told the two Ambassadors. “This is difficult for us. It has been… a difficult year.” His gaze moved for a moment, resting on the body of the vagabond mare. A heavy, oppressive silence rang in the tent.

“It is not for any of us to say what the gods have willed, and presumptuous to attempt so,” he said quietly. “We can only do as we see best.” His eyes moved to the cowering foal, still at Gianna’s hooves. “And we must honor our word, our agreements.” He paused, and closed his eyes, as if steeling himself for his next words.

“But this foal,” Abram continued, “was born an orphan on Seroran soil, presided over by myself and Rae.” He acknowledged the mare with a dip of his head. “Had his mother lived-” he swallowed, shook his mane, “then I would have loaded them both back onto the wagons to Valore myself. But she did not; she was dead before he was born and so I claim him.”

His eyes settled, unblinking, onto Iscah.

“He is no vagabond. He is ours.”

Aodh had gained many new unfortunate souls today; they would not miss one weak, sniveling creature unlikely to even survive the voyage to Valore without his mother’s protection and nourishment. Abram could only pray that Iscah (and by extension Aodh) saw it that way as well.

Oh, Alya, Abram thought painfully, what has become of us?

Rae belongs to
And chapter foal may go up for adoption :>

Description
+6 AP for 3 fullbodies, +6 AP for shading, +3 AP for complex BG

+5 Favor and +10 CS for Chapter Art rewards

+15 AP total for Honour (for when she gets in)

Gianna is looking mighty devious. Him lacking his pupils is intentional, yes. His dark, antagonistic side came out in this chapter. It was fun B)
Rae was too worried about Iscah to notice the real threat. Hehehe

Edit: I just realized I forgot the blood on the foal...oops. Let's pretend it's there >_>

Gianna | Emissary

It was just like the stories of old. Alya's people warring with Ignacio's. And just like times past, the sweet sea mother's child stood neutral in this battle. Silent.

The loud, arguing equine terrified the newborn; not understanding their words because of his newness. He clumsily tripped away from the rising voices, out from under Rae, to a quieter soul. The bloodied colt stained the white of his refuge's legs. Now, cowering under the stoic but steady Gianna, the little one felt safe once more. The tall dark horse did not falter. He needn't meet the little one's eyes to know his fear, the shaking made it obvious. As most children are, he was attracted to steadiness, consistency not this..bickering.

"Um," was all Gianna could muster as thoughts raced through his head. Contemplating, the marwari tried to figure this situation out. Should he even intervene? The answers seemed blatant from his perspective. How come no one else could see? If only the foal was more experienced, maybe then he could sense the malice radiating from his emotionless protector. Whichever herd the child belonged to (or would belong to) was most definitely debatable but one thing wasn't: If there was no foal then there would be no fighting over it's life.

Yet something urged Gianna to attempt to reason with these barbarians. Perhaps it was the mother of the sea. So be it.

"Don't Serorans believe that all life is precious?" His gentle tone finally breaking it's silence as he stayed in place, some distance away from all the others. "Here is this tiny life, already being exposed to the realities of this world. Don't you see how he trembles because of the violence?" Gianna paused, glancing at all of them, thinking of his words before saying them. "When given the chance, he chose neither of you."

Reaffirming his point, Gianna took a stronger but nonthreatening stance. Still hovering over the newborn. "If you were on a cliff, your brother and a stranger clinging to the edge, which would you save? You cannot choose both because life doesn't work that way. Both choices are evil, clearly. You're ending someone's life." Gianna snorted. His eyes serious. "The correct choice: pick the sin you can live with."

Abram | Bondmate

For several agonizing, surreal moments measured in the heaving of his ribcage, Abram remained turned away from the rest of the group, his eyes focused unseeing on the crude canvas walls of the tent. But some part of his brain- the diplomat in him, perhaps- was keeping tabs on the conversation, and eventually the information made its haphazard way to the forefront of his thoughts.

Abram blinked, turned.

“You shame Serora,” he told the group harshly, pain and despair lending a sharp edge to the normally mild stallion’s words. His gaze flickering over Stefan, Rae and Kilorn, Abram stomped a hoof angrily. “We are not alone; comport yourselves with dignity and give our guests a modicum of respect. Never in all my time as an Ambassador was I treated so rudely as you do so to our ladies here.” He let out a tight breath, tail snapping once in agitation. “We are Seroran; we rise above such behavior.”

He turned his heavy gaze to the two Ambassadors, struggling for a semblance of calm. Because the truth of the matter was that he wished, in his deepest heart, to rail at them as well, to tell them to ride a fresh wind right on out of here and leave them all be. But he could not. He meant it, when he told his group to maintain pleasantries. They were not snarling, mindless animals, but Alya’s chosen.

“Please forgive our rudeness,” he told the two Ambassadors. “This is difficult for us. It has been… a difficult year.” His gaze moved for a moment, resting on the body of the vagabond mare. A heavy, oppressive silence rang in the tent.

“It is not for any of us to say what the gods have willed, and presumptuous to attempt so,” he said quietly. “We can only do as we see best.” His eyes moved to the cowering foal, still at Gianna’s hooves. “And we must honor our word, our agreements.” He paused, and closed his eyes, as if steeling himself for his next words.

“But this foal,” Abram continued, “was born an orphan on Seroran soil, presided over by myself and Rae.” He acknowledged the mare with a dip of his head. “Had his mother lived-” he swallowed, shook his mane, “then I would have loaded them both back onto the wagons to Valore myself. But she did not; she was dead before he was born and so I claim him.”

His eyes settled, unblinking, onto Iscah.

“He is no vagabond. He is ours.”

Aodh had gained many new unfortunate souls today; they would not miss one weak, sniveling creature unlikely to even survive the voyage to Valore without his mother’s protection and nourishment. Abram could only pray that Iscah (and by extension Aodh) saw it that way as well.

Oh, Alya, Abram thought painfully, what has become of us?

Rae belongs to
And chapter foal may go up for adoption :>