.The. .Society. .Has. .Moved.

[sarahjane]

------------------------- welcome to the Dead Poet's society


A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild, and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen

Poet picked her way into her new home in the land of Terra De Rocas. Even though she was a Dark, she had accepted the offer to live with a Neutral's herd. But then, this herd's Lead Warrior was Dark. Poet only knew this because she had overheard some ravens chit-chatting one day. Her new leader, Fiana, had told her that she would meet her in the land. All Poet could do now was wait.

She made her way over to a patch of dying grass and snuffled at it with her ebonite kissers. She raised her crown high and let out a soft whinny, letting her new lead know that she had arrived.

[sibber-chow]

The ebony had been off with her mate and newly born foal when the scent of her newest recruit met quivering nostrils. Immediately, she ‘d rushed from her point atop Lider de Montana back to the Outlands that she scented the mare entering through. As she galloped upon the mare, a whinny met the chilled air. Halting a few feet from the essa, she gave a slight bow in greeting. “I’m glad to see you made it,” the ebony called between breaths.

Now snow was falling steadily down on the group, or what Fiana hope to be the group, for she had left the mountain in hopes her mate and filly were following. Thinking of this, the ebony looked back over her withers. And, a smile breeched her usually stiff maw as she saw her little one bobbing up behind them. Yes, there she was, Char, in all of her carefree glory. “This,” the ebony motioned at the filly,” is Char, the heiress to these cast lands.” Okay, Fiana was boasting a little, but most mares did, especially with their first born.

Char seemed oblivious that they were discussing her. Rather the creamy foal with her charred, soot markings, had deep blue orbs set on the white fluff falling from the sky. She was still jumping about as she had before her mom had darted off, but now she was trying to trap those fluffy white precipitates in her maw… and, not very successfully.

Sighing off her daughter’s failed attempts, the ebony glance back at the new mare. “Poet, do you like it here?” Her nostrils quivered beneath the snow that was picking up as she awaited the mare retort.

[Vel]

Torchwood followed a few strides after Fiana and Char. A new herd member. That what Fiana said. Their herd seemed to be growing by atleast one member every week, and that was a very good thing. Torchwood smiled to himself as the confused filly kept stumbling or looking at the surrounding in awe. His trot slowed when he saw Char slowing. Fiana was up ahead talking to a blue roan vixen. Torchwood came up beside Fiana and said to the raon, "Hello. My calling is Torchwood."

--ooc-- muse is really low

[sarahjane]

------------------------- welcome to the Dead Poet's society


A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild, and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen

Poet's crania shot up when she caught a glimpse, and scent, of another equine. She relaxed a bit when she saw the ebony that ruled the terra. Poet stood watching Fiana come her direction and finally stoop a meter in front of her. The leader gave her new member a slight bow. Poet quickly returned the gesture. She stood when a little filly appeared. She glanced to her new leader when she spoke of the filly. The filly's calling was Char. Poet nodded, the calling suited the little girl. "Hello Char." she said to the little filly.

Poet watched the filly attempt to catch the snowflakes that now fell with out success. Poet looked back to Fiana when she asked her if she liked it in Terra De Rocas. "Yes, I like it here. I like it a lot, although you and your daughter are the only equines I have seen." Poet really did want to meet all the other herd members.

She was just about to speak again, when an odd coloured palomino stag came up and stood next to Fiana. He introduced himself as Torchwood. She bowed in gretting. "Pleasure to mee you Torchwood. I am Dead Poet. You may call me Poet." She glanced to Fiana waiting for her to speak.

[sibber-chow]

It was good to hear that the mare was happy in her new surroundings, but Fiana’s own happy disposition soon faded. A raven came fluttering down in a mad rage. The onyx bird was squawking as he made his descent down to the quad. Fiana’s black towers swiveled, her long face turning to eye the frantic creature. Her lips were cast in a firmly solemn expression. Her little foal even lost her jolly step, bolting to her mother’s side and hiding her bodice beneath her mother’s barrel. The foal was tall for her age, so it was a tight squeeze for the little filly – a rather amusing sight for the grim news that was soon to pass from a raven’s beak.

“Whitefoot, the waters, Whitefoot, the waters, Whitefoot!”

Fiana was slightly puzzled as she watched the bird struggle for coherency. He perched on her mate’s withers, and if a bird could pant, he would be panting right about now. After catching his breath, the bird cawed again, “the waters, they took’em. They took’em.”

“What? What do you mean?” The mare snapped, “Where did you see him?”

“On… on… on the coast, m’lady.” Those words out, the mare reared, Char jumping away from her mother and her flailing legs. After her daughter had successfully maneuvered out from beneath Fiana, the ebony vixen took off at full canter yelling behind her, “Watch Char.” Char was baffled, taking flight after her mother. However, she was too young to keep up at that speed. A few meters out, the little filly began to slow as she realized her mother was too far ahead. Her blue orbs teared up as the filly turned to her father. Wailing out tears, she scrambled towards Torchwood, attempting to tuck her bodice beneath her father’s barrel. Fortunately, he was a little taller than her mother, so the fit wasn’t as snug.

The little filly, despite hearing the conversation, thought her mother was gone forever, and she truly seemed miserable – huffing, whining, and shivering as she stood beneath her father’s barrel. About ten minutes after her disappearance, another ebony raven came to sight to what was surely three baffled equines.

The raven, too, perched on the light-hued stag’s withers. This time, the bird was a female named Malli. “I spotted Fiana. She was in a hurry.” Her head cocked to the side as she spoke. “She, eh, yelled to me. She said to meet her on top of Lider de Montana in an hour. There will be a herd meeting.” With that, one of the best-spoken of the ravens flew off followed by her stuttering friend.

OoC|| I will have a herd meeting thread posted at some point tonight. = )