<![CDATA[Vivarium - Smoldering Wastes]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/ Thu, 13 Aug 2026 03:15:31 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[C’mon, C’mon, And Love Me Normally]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13234 Wed, 12 Aug 2026 22:39:11 -0400 Finnegan]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13234 Forward dated to August 14th during the beginning of the wedding feast!
[Image: 125275420_K9SvexQUVy4SVeL.png]
The afternoon sun was almost unbearably bright.

Finnegan had spent much of the journey marveling at the changing landscape, but nothing had quite prepared him for where Silvercreek had brought him. The tropical mountains rose dramatically along the coastline, their slopes thick with greenery and strange, vibrant vegetation. Warm waterfalls tumbled down the cliffs in silver ribbons, feeding crystal-clear pools before eventually finding their way toward the ocean.

It was beautiful. Almost offensively so. Finnegan stood beside Silvercreek for a moment, simply staring.

Then he remembered precisely why they were here.

A wedding.

A wedding.

Finnegan had remembered how his pale amber eyes widened slightly before a delighted smile spread across his face. You want me to go with you to a wedding? Us? Together? At a public place? There had been genuine amazement in his voice then, and it still was there now.

Of all the places Silvercreek could have taken him, Finnegan hadn't expected this. He had certainly never imagined that wolves in this strange new world would have such elaborate ceremonies for marriage. The concept alone fascinated him, particularly after everything he had once believed marriage was supposed to mean.

And, of course, he had said yes immediately, naturally. There had been no question.

Finnegan had made certain he looked his absolute best for the occasion. His fur had been meticulously groomed until every strand lay smooth and elegant, and he had bathed thoroughly before leaving, working fragrant oils through his coat until he carried a pleasant mixture of lavender, vanilla, and the faint warmth of rum that stubbornly seemed determined to remain part of him.

He wanted to smell good. More specifically, he wanted to smell good for Silvercreek. That particular realization had earned him a rather embarrassed blush while preparing.

He had arrived separately from Silvercreek's group, but Finnegan found that he didn't particularly mind. If anything, there was something rather enjoyable about having his companion all to himself for a little while. He could admire the scenery without having to compete with an entire gathering of wolves for Silvercreek's attention.

And, perhaps a little selfishly, he rather liked having Silvercreek's attention focused upon him.

Finnegan stepped closer to the silver wolf, his tail giving a pleased little sway. Thank you for bringing me here, he said warmly. Truly. I don't think I have ever attended a wedding quite like this. His gaze wandered toward the gathering, taking in the unfamiliar-yet-familiar customs and the wolves dressed and arranged for the occasion. I confess, I didn't realize wolves had weddings. There was no judgment in his tone. Quite the opposite. His curiosity was practically sparkling in his eyes.

I suppose I should have expected it. We have all the other things one might associate with civilization—medicine, trade, ships, politics, dreadful paperwork... A faint grimace crossed his features. Though I could happily live without that last one. His attention was quickly stolen by the surrounding culture.

Finnegan's ears perked. Oh. He stared toward the decorations and gathering again, his expression brightening with recognition. This is fascinating. He had always possessed an interest in cultures beyond his own. Before everything had changed, he had spent considerable time reading about distant civilizations, particularly the traditions and history of what he would have once called Oriental cultures. The architecture, clothing, ceremonies, art, philosophy, and languages had fascinated him for years.

He had never expected to encounter anything resembling those traditions here.

Silvercreek, I had no idea there were wolves from an oriental culture here as well. He turned his head toward his lover, practically glowing with excitement. Do you suppose they speak Mandarin? The physician's tail began to wag. Perhaps I should brush up on mine while we're here. It's been dreadfully neglected. He paused. ...Although I suppose being a wolf makes pronunciation somewhat more complicated?

He gave a thoughtful hum before his attention abruptly snapped elsewhere.

Look!

Finnegan practically pointed with his muzzle. A pair of male peacocks wandered through the lush grounds, their brilliant tails catching the afternoon sunlight. His entire expression transformed. Oh, look at them! He stepped closer, staring in open fascination. They're magnificent. For a physician who had spent so much of his life surrounded by books, laboratories, patients, and ships, Finnegan still possessed the wonder of someone encountering the natural world for the first time. His amber eyes followed every movement of the birds, taking in their extravagant plumage with undisguised delight.

He glanced toward Silvercreek again, his smile softening.

I think I may have to explore everything before we leave. A pause. Though preferably with you.

His tail swayed happily behind him as the tropical breeze carried the scents of flowers, saltwater, fruit, and warm earth around them. Finnegan wasn't worried about getting lost. He was far too busy enjoying where he'd ended up.

Do you think we would be able to find one of their feathers, my dear? Male peacock feathers has such beautiful colorations, it would bring out your eyes quite nicely...not that I can't stop looking at your handsome face regardless. Very smooth Finnegan.

]]> Forward dated to August 14th during the beginning of the wedding feast!
[Image: 125275420_K9SvexQUVy4SVeL.png]
The afternoon sun was almost unbearably bright.

Finnegan had spent much of the journey marveling at the changing landscape, but nothing had quite prepared him for where Silvercreek had brought him. The tropical mountains rose dramatically along the coastline, their slopes thick with greenery and strange, vibrant vegetation. Warm waterfalls tumbled down the cliffs in silver ribbons, feeding crystal-clear pools before eventually finding their way toward the ocean.

It was beautiful. Almost offensively so. Finnegan stood beside Silvercreek for a moment, simply staring.

Then he remembered precisely why they were here.

A wedding.

A wedding.

Finnegan had remembered how his pale amber eyes widened slightly before a delighted smile spread across his face. You want me to go with you to a wedding? Us? Together? At a public place? There had been genuine amazement in his voice then, and it still was there now.

Of all the places Silvercreek could have taken him, Finnegan hadn't expected this. He had certainly never imagined that wolves in this strange new world would have such elaborate ceremonies for marriage. The concept alone fascinated him, particularly after everything he had once believed marriage was supposed to mean.

And, of course, he had said yes immediately, naturally. There had been no question.

Finnegan had made certain he looked his absolute best for the occasion. His fur had been meticulously groomed until every strand lay smooth and elegant, and he had bathed thoroughly before leaving, working fragrant oils through his coat until he carried a pleasant mixture of lavender, vanilla, and the faint warmth of rum that stubbornly seemed determined to remain part of him.

He wanted to smell good. More specifically, he wanted to smell good for Silvercreek. That particular realization had earned him a rather embarrassed blush while preparing.

He had arrived separately from Silvercreek's group, but Finnegan found that he didn't particularly mind. If anything, there was something rather enjoyable about having his companion all to himself for a little while. He could admire the scenery without having to compete with an entire gathering of wolves for Silvercreek's attention.

And, perhaps a little selfishly, he rather liked having Silvercreek's attention focused upon him.

Finnegan stepped closer to the silver wolf, his tail giving a pleased little sway. Thank you for bringing me here, he said warmly. Truly. I don't think I have ever attended a wedding quite like this. His gaze wandered toward the gathering, taking in the unfamiliar-yet-familiar customs and the wolves dressed and arranged for the occasion. I confess, I didn't realize wolves had weddings. There was no judgment in his tone. Quite the opposite. His curiosity was practically sparkling in his eyes.

I suppose I should have expected it. We have all the other things one might associate with civilization—medicine, trade, ships, politics, dreadful paperwork... A faint grimace crossed his features. Though I could happily live without that last one. His attention was quickly stolen by the surrounding culture.

Finnegan's ears perked. Oh. He stared toward the decorations and gathering again, his expression brightening with recognition. This is fascinating. He had always possessed an interest in cultures beyond his own. Before everything had changed, he had spent considerable time reading about distant civilizations, particularly the traditions and history of what he would have once called Oriental cultures. The architecture, clothing, ceremonies, art, philosophy, and languages had fascinated him for years.

He had never expected to encounter anything resembling those traditions here.

Silvercreek, I had no idea there were wolves from an oriental culture here as well. He turned his head toward his lover, practically glowing with excitement. Do you suppose they speak Mandarin? The physician's tail began to wag. Perhaps I should brush up on mine while we're here. It's been dreadfully neglected. He paused. ...Although I suppose being a wolf makes pronunciation somewhat more complicated?

He gave a thoughtful hum before his attention abruptly snapped elsewhere.

Look!

Finnegan practically pointed with his muzzle. A pair of male peacocks wandered through the lush grounds, their brilliant tails catching the afternoon sunlight. His entire expression transformed. Oh, look at them! He stepped closer, staring in open fascination. They're magnificent. For a physician who had spent so much of his life surrounded by books, laboratories, patients, and ships, Finnegan still possessed the wonder of someone encountering the natural world for the first time. His amber eyes followed every movement of the birds, taking in their extravagant plumage with undisguised delight.

He glanced toward Silvercreek again, his smile softening.

I think I may have to explore everything before we leave. A pause. Though preferably with you.

His tail swayed happily behind him as the tropical breeze carried the scents of flowers, saltwater, fruit, and warm earth around them. Finnegan wasn't worried about getting lost. He was far too busy enjoying where he'd ended up.

Do you think we would be able to find one of their feathers, my dear? Male peacock feathers has such beautiful colorations, it would bring out your eyes quite nicely...not that I can't stop looking at your handsome face regardless. Very smooth Finnegan.

]]> <![CDATA[Sucks because I love you for real]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13232 Wed, 12 Aug 2026 22:02:57 -0400 KIVA.]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13232


The ocean was considerably less impressive the second time around.

Not unimpressive, exactly. Kiva wasn’t sure anything that large could ever become entirely ordinary, but Dreamsend Shores had already given her ample opportunity to stare at an unreasonable amount of water. She had learned the rhythm of waves rolling toward land, the sharpness of salt carried upon the wind, and, through one regrettable experiment, that seawater tasted absolutely terrible.

The cliffs, however, were new. Kiva slowed as the ground ahead of her disappeared. “Oh.”

Far below, waves battered themselves against jagged boulders, white water curling violently between them before being dragged back toward the open sea. In several places the water seemed to twist upon itself, forming patterns Kiva couldn’t quite make sense of from above.

A pebble shifted beneath her forepaw. She stepped backward immediately. “Nope.”

There were plenty of things Kiva was willing to die for; strangely enough, curiosity had never made the list. She gave the edge a considerably wider berth after that, continuing along the coastline with the drop safely several lengths away.

Traveling like this should have felt familiar. Sometimes it did. There were mornings in Mythris when Kiva woke beneath an unfamiliar tree and, for those first hazy moments between sleep and consciousness, nothing seemed particularly wrong. She had slept away from Wind Haven countless times before. A messenger could hardly insist upon returning to her own den every evening.

Back then, she would wake, shake the leaves from her coat, determine which direction she needed to travel and continue on.

There had always been somewhere to go, and, eventually, somewhere to return. Kiva hadn’t appreciated how much of her life in Wind Haven had been built from such painfully ordinary things.

Someone was always awake before she wanted to be. Patrols came and went. Hunting parties formed. Wolves argued over things that seemed terribly important for approximately half an hour and were forgotten by dinner. Someone inevitably needed a message carried, herbs collected, another set of paws for some irritating task, or simply company because they were bored. Kiva had been particularly useful for that last one.

She remembered returning from long routes and recognizing home before she ever saw it. The scents came first.

Wolves she knew. Patrol trails she’d crossed hundreds of times. Then landmarks appeared one by one: a crooked tree, a familiar clearing, the stretch of ground that became an absolute disaster whenever it rained. Eventually someone would notice her. Sometimes, she received nothing more than a greeting. Sometimes she was immediately informed of everything she’d missed as though Wind Haven had nearly collapsed during her absence. And sometimes there was someone she had been hoping to see. Kiva had never thought much about any of it. Why would she?

You didn’t memorize ordinary days while you were living them. You didn’t wake every morning grateful that the same wolves were still making the same noises outside.

You didn’t memorize every stupid conversation because someday you might desperately want to hear it again. You simply lived. That had been Wind Haven.

Not Ev’s landslide. Not Alu’s flood. Not even the fire.

Those things had happened there, certainly. They had divided Kiva’s life into pieces she could never quite fit together again. Before Alu, after Alu. Before Ev, after Ev. Before the fire, after. But Wind Haven had existed between those moments. Years of it, to be exact.

Warm afternoons spent sprawled somewhere she absolutely should have been doing something useful. Rainy mornings when leaving shelter felt like a personal insult. Returning from a journey hungry enough to contemplate eating whatever unfortunate creature crossed her path first. Learning exactly who would tolerate being bothered when she was bored and who absolutely would not. Listening to Ev speak, arguing with Ev, pretending she wasn’t listening to Ev and then remembering the advice years later anyway.

Her steps slowed. The wind had changed. Salt remained strongest, but something else traveled beneath it: Wolf. Kiva stopped, eyes narrowing. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Her head lifted automatically, nostrils flaring as an instinct she’d spent years developing slipped neatly back into place. Not one wolf, many.

“Well, hello.” she murmured softly.  She turned slightly inland and tested the breeze again.

The scents overlapped, but not completely. Some trails seemed to disappear toward the lush terrain farther ahead while others pulled elsewhere. Different ages, different directions, enough repetition that this clearly wasn’t the work of travelers merely passing through.

Established wolves. Possibly more than one group. For the first time since arriving in Mythris, Kiva felt something remarkably close to professional competence. This she understood. Wind Haven had possessed neighbors, allies, strangers, and territories where one misplaced paw could create the sort of diplomatic headache nobody wanted. As a messenger, Kiva had learned to read boundaries that existed without walls, marked trees, repeated trails, patrol routes, places where one collection of scents weakened and another began. Once, she had known exactly where those invisible lines were. Now she knew absolutely nothing.

Which was, admittedly, becoming something of a theme. Kiva lowered her nose toward one of the trails and considered following it, then stopped.

She had already managed to wander onto occupied land once because she’d been distracted by pretty flowers. Apparently several years of experience did not protect against being an idiot.

“We’re learning,” she murmured lightly. Rather than continue, Kiva backed away from the trail. Neutral ground seemed considerably wiser. If there truly were established groups nearby, someone would eventually pass through. Patrols still needed to happen. Wolves still hunted. Travelers came and went. They would have routines.

The thought stirred something unexpectedly tender.

Somewhere beyond those unfamiliar scents, wolves were living perfectly ordinary lives. Someone was being woken earlier than they wanted, someone was coming home hungry, someone knew which paths flooded after rain and where to find shade when the day became too warm, someone would leave in the morning and be expected back later.

Once, Wind Haven had been nothing more than unfamiliar scents beyond a border to someone else. To Kiva, it had been everything. She missed it so much. She swallowed and turned her attention firmly back toward the cliffs.

Nope. That thought could remain exactly where it was. There were memories worth examining, and there were others best handled through aggressive avoidance and perhaps a rabbit.

Kiva found herself a reasonably flat patch of earth, safely removed from both the cliff’s edge and whatever invisible boundaries might lie ahead, and settled onto her haunches. The ocean roared below. The wind tugged through her coat. Somewhere nearby, strangers went about lives she knew nothing about.

Kiva waited. After all, there was one thing she remembered particularly well about living near a border. If you sat around looking suspicious for long enough, eventually somebody came to ask what the hell you were doing.]]>


The ocean was considerably less impressive the second time around.

Not unimpressive, exactly. Kiva wasn’t sure anything that large could ever become entirely ordinary, but Dreamsend Shores had already given her ample opportunity to stare at an unreasonable amount of water. She had learned the rhythm of waves rolling toward land, the sharpness of salt carried upon the wind, and, through one regrettable experiment, that seawater tasted absolutely terrible.

The cliffs, however, were new. Kiva slowed as the ground ahead of her disappeared. “Oh.”

Far below, waves battered themselves against jagged boulders, white water curling violently between them before being dragged back toward the open sea. In several places the water seemed to twist upon itself, forming patterns Kiva couldn’t quite make sense of from above.

A pebble shifted beneath her forepaw. She stepped backward immediately. “Nope.”

There were plenty of things Kiva was willing to die for; strangely enough, curiosity had never made the list. She gave the edge a considerably wider berth after that, continuing along the coastline with the drop safely several lengths away.

Traveling like this should have felt familiar. Sometimes it did. There were mornings in Mythris when Kiva woke beneath an unfamiliar tree and, for those first hazy moments between sleep and consciousness, nothing seemed particularly wrong. She had slept away from Wind Haven countless times before. A messenger could hardly insist upon returning to her own den every evening.

Back then, she would wake, shake the leaves from her coat, determine which direction she needed to travel and continue on.

There had always been somewhere to go, and, eventually, somewhere to return. Kiva hadn’t appreciated how much of her life in Wind Haven had been built from such painfully ordinary things.

Someone was always awake before she wanted to be. Patrols came and went. Hunting parties formed. Wolves argued over things that seemed terribly important for approximately half an hour and were forgotten by dinner. Someone inevitably needed a message carried, herbs collected, another set of paws for some irritating task, or simply company because they were bored. Kiva had been particularly useful for that last one.

She remembered returning from long routes and recognizing home before she ever saw it. The scents came first.

Wolves she knew. Patrol trails she’d crossed hundreds of times. Then landmarks appeared one by one: a crooked tree, a familiar clearing, the stretch of ground that became an absolute disaster whenever it rained. Eventually someone would notice her. Sometimes, she received nothing more than a greeting. Sometimes she was immediately informed of everything she’d missed as though Wind Haven had nearly collapsed during her absence. And sometimes there was someone she had been hoping to see. Kiva had never thought much about any of it. Why would she?

You didn’t memorize ordinary days while you were living them. You didn’t wake every morning grateful that the same wolves were still making the same noises outside.

You didn’t memorize every stupid conversation because someday you might desperately want to hear it again. You simply lived. That had been Wind Haven.

Not Ev’s landslide. Not Alu’s flood. Not even the fire.

Those things had happened there, certainly. They had divided Kiva’s life into pieces she could never quite fit together again. Before Alu, after Alu. Before Ev, after Ev. Before the fire, after. But Wind Haven had existed between those moments. Years of it, to be exact.

Warm afternoons spent sprawled somewhere she absolutely should have been doing something useful. Rainy mornings when leaving shelter felt like a personal insult. Returning from a journey hungry enough to contemplate eating whatever unfortunate creature crossed her path first. Learning exactly who would tolerate being bothered when she was bored and who absolutely would not. Listening to Ev speak, arguing with Ev, pretending she wasn’t listening to Ev and then remembering the advice years later anyway.

Her steps slowed. The wind had changed. Salt remained strongest, but something else traveled beneath it: Wolf. Kiva stopped, eyes narrowing. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Her head lifted automatically, nostrils flaring as an instinct she’d spent years developing slipped neatly back into place. Not one wolf, many.

“Well, hello.” she murmured softly.  She turned slightly inland and tested the breeze again.

The scents overlapped, but not completely. Some trails seemed to disappear toward the lush terrain farther ahead while others pulled elsewhere. Different ages, different directions, enough repetition that this clearly wasn’t the work of travelers merely passing through.

Established wolves. Possibly more than one group. For the first time since arriving in Mythris, Kiva felt something remarkably close to professional competence. This she understood. Wind Haven had possessed neighbors, allies, strangers, and territories where one misplaced paw could create the sort of diplomatic headache nobody wanted. As a messenger, Kiva had learned to read boundaries that existed without walls, marked trees, repeated trails, patrol routes, places where one collection of scents weakened and another began. Once, she had known exactly where those invisible lines were. Now she knew absolutely nothing.

Which was, admittedly, becoming something of a theme. Kiva lowered her nose toward one of the trails and considered following it, then stopped.

She had already managed to wander onto occupied land once because she’d been distracted by pretty flowers. Apparently several years of experience did not protect against being an idiot.

“We’re learning,” she murmured lightly. Rather than continue, Kiva backed away from the trail. Neutral ground seemed considerably wiser. If there truly were established groups nearby, someone would eventually pass through. Patrols still needed to happen. Wolves still hunted. Travelers came and went. They would have routines.

The thought stirred something unexpectedly tender.

Somewhere beyond those unfamiliar scents, wolves were living perfectly ordinary lives. Someone was being woken earlier than they wanted, someone was coming home hungry, someone knew which paths flooded after rain and where to find shade when the day became too warm, someone would leave in the morning and be expected back later.

Once, Wind Haven had been nothing more than unfamiliar scents beyond a border to someone else. To Kiva, it had been everything. She missed it so much. She swallowed and turned her attention firmly back toward the cliffs.

Nope. That thought could remain exactly where it was. There were memories worth examining, and there were others best handled through aggressive avoidance and perhaps a rabbit.

Kiva found herself a reasonably flat patch of earth, safely removed from both the cliff’s edge and whatever invisible boundaries might lie ahead, and settled onto her haunches. The ocean roared below. The wind tugged through her coat. Somewhere nearby, strangers went about lives she knew nothing about.

Kiva waited. After all, there was one thing she remembered particularly well about living near a border. If you sat around looking suspicious for long enough, eventually somebody came to ask what the hell you were doing.]]> <![CDATA[SO WHEN YOU SEE MY FACE REMEMBER TO RUN]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13228 Wed, 12 Aug 2026 21:06:50 -0400 Princess Fairytale]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13228 Takes place the 14th the night of the wedding feast.
[Image: 110607119_M3yurm4jE8Xu4Xl.png]
Night had settled over the tropical mountains, but the wedding festivities showed no sign of slowing.

If anything, the party had somehow become louder.

Music drifted between the mountains, laughter carried through the humid air, and the warm scent of exotic flowers, ripe fruit, roasting meat, and fermented drink mingled together until the entire place smelled like one enormous celebration. Waterfalls thundered somewhere nearby, their mist cooling the air just enough to make the oppressive heat bearable.

Fairytale was having an excellent time.

Mostly because she had won.

The Rose Bride stumbled—only slightly—through the festivities, her midnight-blue coat warm from the humid night and her tail wagging with drunken triumph. She lifted her chin proudly, walking with the exaggerated dignity of a princess who was absolutely, unquestionably, completely sober.

She was not sober. She had just beaten her husband, Joxer, in a drinking contest. I WON MOTHER FUCKERS! The Rose Bride announced to absolutely nobody in particular. A few nearby revelers glanced her way. Fairytale grinned. A suspiciously pleased giggle escaped her. Her cloudy blue eyes wandered across the celebration, though the world remained little more than colorful, swaying blobs and vague silhouettes through her severely blurred vision. Fortunately, Fairytale had never needed particularly good eyesight to cause trouble.

Her nose, however, was working perfectly. She stopped and sniffed the red flowers she was oh so familiar with. The ones she would give to Isafrel and Joxer. Her ears perked. Oh. There they were. The Rose Bride immediately changed course, weaving through the crowd with the determined focus of someone on a very important royal mission. She wasn't looking for just any flowers, either. She wanted those flowers. Her nose twitched again. Fermented berries. Fairytale's tail wagged harder. Perfect.

She could already imagine the vague blob expression. She'd beaten him at drinking, and now she was going to bring him something to drink while making absolutely certain that she would get her own happy ending tonight. Was this genuine affection? Yes. Was it also an opportunity to gloat? Abso-fuckin-lutely.

Fairytale finally reached the flowers and carefully gathered a small bundle in her mouth before turning toward the direction she remembered Joxer disappearing in.

Then she froze.

...Which way was her darling husband again? She slowly turned left. Then right. Then left again. The entire party looked exactly the same. Fairytale's ears drooped. ...Oh, fuck. She stood there for several seconds, flowers hanging from her mouth. Then her tail started wagging again. Eh. I'll find him. With complete confidence and absolutely no idea where she was going, Fairytale plunged back into the wedding festivities in search of fermented berries—and her very defeated, but still darling, husband.

Jooxxeerrr honeybunches where are yooouuu?~

]]> Takes place the 14th the night of the wedding feast.
[Image: 110607119_M3yurm4jE8Xu4Xl.png]
Night had settled over the tropical mountains, but the wedding festivities showed no sign of slowing.

If anything, the party had somehow become louder.

Music drifted between the mountains, laughter carried through the humid air, and the warm scent of exotic flowers, ripe fruit, roasting meat, and fermented drink mingled together until the entire place smelled like one enormous celebration. Waterfalls thundered somewhere nearby, their mist cooling the air just enough to make the oppressive heat bearable.

Fairytale was having an excellent time.

Mostly because she had won.

The Rose Bride stumbled—only slightly—through the festivities, her midnight-blue coat warm from the humid night and her tail wagging with drunken triumph. She lifted her chin proudly, walking with the exaggerated dignity of a princess who was absolutely, unquestionably, completely sober.

She was not sober. She had just beaten her husband, Joxer, in a drinking contest. I WON MOTHER FUCKERS! The Rose Bride announced to absolutely nobody in particular. A few nearby revelers glanced her way. Fairytale grinned. A suspiciously pleased giggle escaped her. Her cloudy blue eyes wandered across the celebration, though the world remained little more than colorful, swaying blobs and vague silhouettes through her severely blurred vision. Fortunately, Fairytale had never needed particularly good eyesight to cause trouble.

Her nose, however, was working perfectly. She stopped and sniffed the red flowers she was oh so familiar with. The ones she would give to Isafrel and Joxer. Her ears perked. Oh. There they were. The Rose Bride immediately changed course, weaving through the crowd with the determined focus of someone on a very important royal mission. She wasn't looking for just any flowers, either. She wanted those flowers. Her nose twitched again. Fermented berries. Fairytale's tail wagged harder. Perfect.

She could already imagine the vague blob expression. She'd beaten him at drinking, and now she was going to bring him something to drink while making absolutely certain that she would get her own happy ending tonight. Was this genuine affection? Yes. Was it also an opportunity to gloat? Abso-fuckin-lutely.

Fairytale finally reached the flowers and carefully gathered a small bundle in her mouth before turning toward the direction she remembered Joxer disappearing in.

Then she froze.

...Which way was her darling husband again? She slowly turned left. Then right. Then left again. The entire party looked exactly the same. Fairytale's ears drooped. ...Oh, fuck. She stood there for several seconds, flowers hanging from her mouth. Then her tail started wagging again. Eh. I'll find him. With complete confidence and absolutely no idea where she was going, Fairytale plunged back into the wedding festivities in search of fermented berries—and her very defeated, but still darling, husband.

Jooxxeerrr honeybunches where are yooouuu?~

]]> <![CDATA[Youre falling, but you think youre flying high]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13229 Wed, 12 Aug 2026 19:22:17 -0400 Saga]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13229
Juuuuust outside Tianlong, Jakten will arrive at Tianlong borders by nightfall! For
Heat day one >:3

A vacation. It sounded nice, after... everything. To set her paws on a path that wasn't wandering or unsure, but would lead to fun and relaxation. Just a short trip, even, one that Saga was more than willing to go on. After so long on the road one might've thought her sick of it, but not so! For one, she'd quite enjoyed walking the land she'd longed for so many years to see! For another, she'd been holed up and healing for the last month, fighting infection first and then healing until only jagged, foul scars stretched across her skin. Saga avoided all reflective surfaces and closed her eyes to drink, unwilling to look into the gaping, empty socket upon her face.

Before long had passed with the bandages off, she had put another on - dry, just a patch to cover the godforsaken wound. She was reminded of Joxer each and every time she saw it, and had to strive not to throw up when the pain of it all came rushing back to her, the long weeks of healing, being carried up the mountain with bleeding, moss-stuffed wounds. She thought she would rather stand again in a forest being consumed by fire than go through that again. Her eye, her stomach, her throat --! It'd hurt to talk for so long, her trachea bruised and the wounds delicate. It'd hurt to walk. Still, she felt as if she had to blink, but there was no eyelid let alone eye there. With the leaf-patch over her eye, she felt better. It wasn't big enough to cover all of the fresh scars around her eye, and it was more than obvious what exactly she was hiding beneath it, but it made her feel less.... stared at, even when she was alone hiding in her nest.

She felt... vulnerable, outside of Jakten, but kept telling herself that she was safe at Jaxx's side.

When she woke to the smell, the itch, the BURN of her heat, she swore out loud, a hiss of shit, leaving her as she stood and, tucking her tail to cover the bloody mess, swept off away from the Jakten group. She had to clean herself up! It was bad enough she was... her, without reeking and being a mess. Perhaps she could find some sort of flower to shove in her fur and try to mask the smell. Should she just.... go home? She'd hate to have come all the way here to turn back now, but she didn't want to make a wedding awkward either!

Saga slipped across the plains west, knowing the sea was nearby and that she might be able to scrub herself clean and offer a salty tang to her fur. Anything -- anything to dull the smell.

]]>
Juuuuust outside Tianlong, Jakten will arrive at Tianlong borders by nightfall! For
Heat day one >:3

A vacation. It sounded nice, after... everything. To set her paws on a path that wasn't wandering or unsure, but would lead to fun and relaxation. Just a short trip, even, one that Saga was more than willing to go on. After so long on the road one might've thought her sick of it, but not so! For one, she'd quite enjoyed walking the land she'd longed for so many years to see! For another, she'd been holed up and healing for the last month, fighting infection first and then healing until only jagged, foul scars stretched across her skin. Saga avoided all reflective surfaces and closed her eyes to drink, unwilling to look into the gaping, empty socket upon her face.

Before long had passed with the bandages off, she had put another on - dry, just a patch to cover the godforsaken wound. She was reminded of Joxer each and every time she saw it, and had to strive not to throw up when the pain of it all came rushing back to her, the long weeks of healing, being carried up the mountain with bleeding, moss-stuffed wounds. She thought she would rather stand again in a forest being consumed by fire than go through that again. Her eye, her stomach, her throat --! It'd hurt to talk for so long, her trachea bruised and the wounds delicate. It'd hurt to walk. Still, she felt as if she had to blink, but there was no eyelid let alone eye there. With the leaf-patch over her eye, she felt better. It wasn't big enough to cover all of the fresh scars around her eye, and it was more than obvious what exactly she was hiding beneath it, but it made her feel less.... stared at, even when she was alone hiding in her nest.

She felt... vulnerable, outside of Jakten, but kept telling herself that she was safe at Jaxx's side.

When she woke to the smell, the itch, the BURN of her heat, she swore out loud, a hiss of shit, leaving her as she stood and, tucking her tail to cover the bloody mess, swept off away from the Jakten group. She had to clean herself up! It was bad enough she was... her, without reeking and being a mess. Perhaps she could find some sort of flower to shove in her fur and try to mask the smell. Should she just.... go home? She'd hate to have come all the way here to turn back now, but she didn't want to make a wedding awkward either!

Saga slipped across the plains west, knowing the sea was nearby and that she might be able to scrub herself clean and offer a salty tang to her fur. Anything -- anything to dull the smell.

]]> <![CDATA[and if you listen closely]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13222 Wed, 12 Aug 2026 14:40:56 -0400 Shuyan]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13222 @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Asul:wght@400;700&family=Nunito:ital,wght@0,200..1000;1,200..1000&display=swap');

the world was in bloom; the sleeping dragon did not imagine a world where it would not be.

her legs beginning to work had stirred a certain curiosity in her for the outside. no longer would these things be noticed only at a distance. perhaps she was not filled with the manic energy of her growing siblings- but the world would remain there whether she walked or ran.

she did not need to hurry.

a storm had come in the morning, and the wind was thick and wet. the young dragon emerged with nose twitching in a long and lazy stretch, ears flicking into the wind.

but though she had heard the summer storms where she curled protected and warm in the den, and had smelled the rain on the air, she had not stepped frequently behind its walls. the wind howled, and a violent gust of air crashed against her flank- more than enough to unseat a child still unsteady on their paws.

the girl swayed alarmingly, bracing as the wind flattened her fur to milk-round sides, and toppled into the wet mud with a squelch.
]]> @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Asul:wght@400;700&family=Nunito:ital,wght@0,200..1000;1,200..1000&display=swap');

the world was in bloom; the sleeping dragon did not imagine a world where it would not be.

her legs beginning to work had stirred a certain curiosity in her for the outside. no longer would these things be noticed only at a distance. perhaps she was not filled with the manic energy of her growing siblings- but the world would remain there whether she walked or ran.

she did not need to hurry.

a storm had come in the morning, and the wind was thick and wet. the young dragon emerged with nose twitching in a long and lazy stretch, ears flicking into the wind.

but though she had heard the summer storms where she curled protected and warm in the den, and had smelled the rain on the air, she had not stepped frequently behind its walls. the wind howled, and a violent gust of air crashed against her flank- more than enough to unseat a child still unsteady on their paws.

the girl swayed alarmingly, bracing as the wind flattened her fur to milk-round sides, and toppled into the wet mud with a squelch.
]]> <![CDATA[i could never live the way they want]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13219 Tue, 11 Aug 2026 23:46:18 -0400 Draugur]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13219 OOC
& —

[Image: 29571571?1765670266]
Draugur found himself traveling with someone.

As the pair moved, Draugur would find himself glancing toward his shoulder, making sure Narev was still there. But his glances were distant — fleeting. Almost as if he didn't care that Narev was there, but was clearly very motivated to know that he was.

You like this heat? The complaint lifted easily from his lips, paws burning on the sand as the sun grew full in the sky above. It was vastly different from the clouded mountains he'd spent much of his life in. When you grew up in a pack of albinos and ermine pelts, the shadows were ... your home.

To be in the sun felt ... invasive.

Pointed.

Brutal.

Draugur's tongue would fall from the side of his mouth, mouth agape in a natural pant as he glared toward his travel companion. And the Revenant would run his tongue over his teeth, inadvertently growing hungry as he recalled the taste of Narev on his tongue. His smile would widen, reserved for Narev's eyes, his weakness on display for a few secret moments before he remembered his ire.

This desert sucked, didn't it?

He could feel the heat on his ears practically burning, and the sun had barely risen.

And the Revenant would remember his anger, snarling into the sunrise. We should find shade. It was less of a suggestion and more of a demand request.
[Image: ddosoik-e19f9073-7aa7-4d74-a2a4-55514843...2La5lWvhTQ]
]]> OOC
& —

[Image: 29571571?1765670266]
Draugur found himself traveling with someone.

As the pair moved, Draugur would find himself glancing toward his shoulder, making sure Narev was still there. But his glances were distant — fleeting. Almost as if he didn't care that Narev was there, but was clearly very motivated to know that he was.

You like this heat? The complaint lifted easily from his lips, paws burning on the sand as the sun grew full in the sky above. It was vastly different from the clouded mountains he'd spent much of his life in. When you grew up in a pack of albinos and ermine pelts, the shadows were ... your home.

To be in the sun felt ... invasive.

Pointed.

Brutal.

Draugur's tongue would fall from the side of his mouth, mouth agape in a natural pant as he glared toward his travel companion. And the Revenant would run his tongue over his teeth, inadvertently growing hungry as he recalled the taste of Narev on his tongue. His smile would widen, reserved for Narev's eyes, his weakness on display for a few secret moments before he remembered his ire.

This desert sucked, didn't it?

He could feel the heat on his ears practically burning, and the sun had barely risen.

And the Revenant would remember his anger, snarling into the sunrise. We should find shade. It was less of a suggestion and more of a demand request.
[Image: ddosoik-e19f9073-7aa7-4d74-a2a4-55514843...2La5lWvhTQ]
]]> <![CDATA[love me.]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13218 Tue, 11 Aug 2026 22:08:34 -0400 Princess Fairytale]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13218 Backdated to July 30th!

The sun hung high above the flat-topped buttes, bathing the level grounds in warm golden light. The surrounding forests climbed impossibly high along the slopes, their dense canopies making the stone formations look as though they might scrape the sky itself. It was quiet here—quiet enough for the occasional rustle of leaves and distant birdsong to carry across the open ground.

Fairytale liked it. It was warm. It was peaceful. And, most importantly, she had managed to drag Israfel all the way back to Sanguine.

...Technically.

The Rose Bride wasn't entirely convinced that dragging a violently uncooperative, one-eyed bastard home counted as a successful recruitment strategy, but he was here. That was what mattered. Whether he was going to cooperate was another question entirely. Fairytale trotted across the sunlit clearing with something substantial clenched carefully between her jaws. A desert mule deer hung from her mouth, its weight causing her steps to become slightly more exaggerated than usual. She'd hunted it herself, and she had even taken the time to decorate it.

Red flowers had been scattered generously across the deer's body, their bright petals stark against the muted brown of its coat. Fairytale had tucked some carefully between the coarse fur along its neck, while others rested around its legs and across its flank, turning the freshly killed meal into something that looked almost absurdly festive.

Flowers. Pretty ones, too.

Fairytale had seen firsthand what these particular little red blossoms could do to a certain stubborn wolf's disposition. Joxer had always seemed to soften around them, his usual rough edges giving way to something warmer, more affectionate towards her. She hadn't forgotten that.

The Rose Bride had lived a very long time. She'd learned that affection rarely came from grand gestures alone. Sometimes it was patience. Sometimes it was food. Sometimes it was knowing exactly which little things made a difficult creature lower its guard.

And sometimes, apparently, it was putting pretty red flowers on someone's lunch.

Fairytale wasn't entirely sure whether the flowers themselves were responsible, but she was more than willing to conduct further research. If flowers worked once, surely they'd work twice. That was basically science.

She finally dropped the deer onto the ground with a heavy thump, shook her muzzle, and immediately began looking around.

Where was her grumpy big thrall?

Fairytale sniffed. Once. Twice. Her cloudy eyes wandered toward one of the nearby shadows, though she couldn't make out much beyond a vague, dark shape. Her tail began to wag.

Israfel? She tilted her head, nothing. Fairytale placed one paw on the mule deer's flank, as though proudly presenting her offering.

Then she raised her voice.

ISRAFEL! Her ears perked. It's chow time! She gave the deer an affectionate pat. Look what I got you!

]]> Backdated to July 30th!

The sun hung high above the flat-topped buttes, bathing the level grounds in warm golden light. The surrounding forests climbed impossibly high along the slopes, their dense canopies making the stone formations look as though they might scrape the sky itself. It was quiet here—quiet enough for the occasional rustle of leaves and distant birdsong to carry across the open ground.

Fairytale liked it. It was warm. It was peaceful. And, most importantly, she had managed to drag Israfel all the way back to Sanguine.

...Technically.

The Rose Bride wasn't entirely convinced that dragging a violently uncooperative, one-eyed bastard home counted as a successful recruitment strategy, but he was here. That was what mattered. Whether he was going to cooperate was another question entirely. Fairytale trotted across the sunlit clearing with something substantial clenched carefully between her jaws. A desert mule deer hung from her mouth, its weight causing her steps to become slightly more exaggerated than usual. She'd hunted it herself, and she had even taken the time to decorate it.

Red flowers had been scattered generously across the deer's body, their bright petals stark against the muted brown of its coat. Fairytale had tucked some carefully between the coarse fur along its neck, while others rested around its legs and across its flank, turning the freshly killed meal into something that looked almost absurdly festive.

Flowers. Pretty ones, too.

Fairytale had seen firsthand what these particular little red blossoms could do to a certain stubborn wolf's disposition. Joxer had always seemed to soften around them, his usual rough edges giving way to something warmer, more affectionate towards her. She hadn't forgotten that.

The Rose Bride had lived a very long time. She'd learned that affection rarely came from grand gestures alone. Sometimes it was patience. Sometimes it was food. Sometimes it was knowing exactly which little things made a difficult creature lower its guard.

And sometimes, apparently, it was putting pretty red flowers on someone's lunch.

Fairytale wasn't entirely sure whether the flowers themselves were responsible, but she was more than willing to conduct further research. If flowers worked once, surely they'd work twice. That was basically science.

She finally dropped the deer onto the ground with a heavy thump, shook her muzzle, and immediately began looking around.

Where was her grumpy big thrall?

Fairytale sniffed. Once. Twice. Her cloudy eyes wandered toward one of the nearby shadows, though she couldn't make out much beyond a vague, dark shape. Her tail began to wag.

Israfel? She tilted her head, nothing. Fairytale placed one paw on the mule deer's flank, as though proudly presenting her offering.

Then she raised her voice.

ISRAFEL! Her ears perked. It's chow time! She gave the deer an affectionate pat. Look what I got you!

]]> <![CDATA[Hakuna matata, what a wonderful phrase]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13206 Tue, 11 Aug 2026 03:56:11 -0400 Persimmon]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13206
Backdated, like, a week bc Im terrible lmfao, with at least who are assumed with him

Persimmon had insisted on going the long way - the way without tunnels. The scenic route, he would say if pressed too hard, the chance to spread his limbs and see what lay between Avon and the Oasis. The truth was, he didn't really want to go back, but he knew he must. It'd been... months. Months! He had not yet reached his first birthday, and so long had passed, he knew his Mutter must be so terribly sad. For all she was grumpy, and quiet, and didn't interact much, he was sure that by now she must miss him.

Or... had forgotten him.

Persi swallowed a lump in his throat as he approached the falls; hearing the rumble of them, feeling it deep in his paws and feeling welcomed. The boy sucked in a deep breath. But he didn't come alone! Several had come with him from Avon; a testament of the friends he had made (he thought fondly of ) and the family he had found while he was gone, far from alone. He could not smell the borders, and he didn't know where they were specifically, but it didn't matter. There was nothing in the world that could stop the bastard Prince from coming home and walking into his very own kingdom, not ever - this was the way of the Dusk's. Even Amrei must know deep in her bones that this place was for her, that she and her kin never had to ask to step into Dusk lands! Speaking of; her husband was pretty cool, too, but not much compared to the excitement of finding exactly what your Mutter had always told you existed! Not his Aunt, but her Aunt, no, his Grandfathers Aunt! A woman who had seen Apple grow up and knew the same histories of the Dusk Kingdom that Persimmon had heard since the day he was born, who had just as personally known Petra (HER MOTHER) and Auntie Plum and Grandma Lemon -

It was all so exiting! He hoped Mutter would be happy to see her again - the Apple in her stories and the Apple he had always known felt.... nothing, at all, alike.

C'mon, he drawled in a sing-song tone that didn't seem to come from his heart, Mutter will meet us.

Persimmon tipped his head back and sent a soft, if not nervous little Awooooooo across the falls, telling his family he was finally home! Would they swarm him, or would the next days be busy as he fought to catch up one by one?

]]>
Backdated, like, a week bc Im terrible lmfao, with at least who are assumed with him

Persimmon had insisted on going the long way - the way without tunnels. The scenic route, he would say if pressed too hard, the chance to spread his limbs and see what lay between Avon and the Oasis. The truth was, he didn't really want to go back, but he knew he must. It'd been... months. Months! He had not yet reached his first birthday, and so long had passed, he knew his Mutter must be so terribly sad. For all she was grumpy, and quiet, and didn't interact much, he was sure that by now she must miss him.

Or... had forgotten him.

Persi swallowed a lump in his throat as he approached the falls; hearing the rumble of them, feeling it deep in his paws and feeling welcomed. The boy sucked in a deep breath. But he didn't come alone! Several had come with him from Avon; a testament of the friends he had made (he thought fondly of ) and the family he had found while he was gone, far from alone. He could not smell the borders, and he didn't know where they were specifically, but it didn't matter. There was nothing in the world that could stop the bastard Prince from coming home and walking into his very own kingdom, not ever - this was the way of the Dusk's. Even Amrei must know deep in her bones that this place was for her, that she and her kin never had to ask to step into Dusk lands! Speaking of; her husband was pretty cool, too, but not much compared to the excitement of finding exactly what your Mutter had always told you existed! Not his Aunt, but her Aunt, no, his Grandfathers Aunt! A woman who had seen Apple grow up and knew the same histories of the Dusk Kingdom that Persimmon had heard since the day he was born, who had just as personally known Petra (HER MOTHER) and Auntie Plum and Grandma Lemon -

It was all so exiting! He hoped Mutter would be happy to see her again - the Apple in her stories and the Apple he had always known felt.... nothing, at all, alike.

C'mon, he drawled in a sing-song tone that didn't seem to come from his heart, Mutter will meet us.

Persimmon tipped his head back and sent a soft, if not nervous little Awooooooo across the falls, telling his family he was finally home! Would they swarm him, or would the next days be busy as he fought to catch up one by one?

]]> <![CDATA[plasma]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13202 Tue, 11 Aug 2026 00:23:14 -0400 Hiba]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13202
open to 1-2 alukhai members <3


Where is she?

She remembers nothing.

The evening is cool and the fields seem barren. The world shifts and turns before her, unsteady and warping, or perhaps it is she who is unsteady and warping.

A pain in the side of her head, radiating down her temple and reaching unforgiving claws into her jaw and neck.

The fur along her temple is wet.

Her body is sore and aching, and she does not know where she is hurt. Everywhere, it seems like, and nowhere all at once. She feels a passenger in her own skin, as though she isn't quite all the way there.

The girl stumbles and lands on her side, a soft groan slipping from her lips.

Where is she?

Who is she?
]]>
open to 1-2 alukhai members <3


Where is she?

She remembers nothing.

The evening is cool and the fields seem barren. The world shifts and turns before her, unsteady and warping, or perhaps it is she who is unsteady and warping.

A pain in the side of her head, radiating down her temple and reaching unforgiving claws into her jaw and neck.

The fur along her temple is wet.

Her body is sore and aching, and she does not know where she is hurt. Everywhere, it seems like, and nowhere all at once. She feels a passenger in her own skin, as though she isn't quite all the way there.

The girl stumbles and lands on her side, a soft groan slipping from her lips.

Where is she?

Who is she?
]]> <![CDATA[little brother]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13195 Mon, 10 Aug 2026 17:56:51 -0400 Häti]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13195
on the dim horizon lingers scent of lavender and blood. häti paces the perimeter with a quickness, increasing patrols from two to three, three to four. her memories of before are hazy, but she knows in her soul that this danger is one she cannot afford to let slip by, for the sake of her people.

day by day, judgment crawls closer in the shape of a man.
]]>
on the dim horizon lingers scent of lavender and blood. häti paces the perimeter with a quickness, increasing patrols from two to three, three to four. her memories of before are hazy, but she knows in her soul that this danger is one she cannot afford to let slip by, for the sake of her people.

day by day, judgment crawls closer in the shape of a man.
]]> <![CDATA[Year of the water ox]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13162 Mon, 10 Aug 2026 17:52:45 -0400 Batu]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13162 [Image: Byy2izq.gif]

Click for route[Image: kkq3MG7.jpeg]

Pack meeting/announcement! no posting order <3 journey will take approx 4 days travel

For a final time was the jungle at his front. Khaan loped the last of week-long trails into the steppe, under the long unification of eagle-screech. Unbroken sweeps the horizon, in every direction; nothing to lean the eyes against but earth and sky.

At last blows away a deep ache for this vastness— the other, for which he had been driven away.

There is little justice in the world, the nokud have known since the death of theirs. Spirits take no part in the lives of men once they have been born. A nomad endures what the world sends his way.

Tengri has sent to him Alukhai.

At a high ledge khaan pulls a stop to gaze about him. Below, the river valley of the ordo spreads in majesty. Beyond the vast openness rises blue mountains, where clouds billow in splendor. Overhead, the summer sky is sharply, brilliantly blue. Two hawks circle here, dipping and soaring. Behind and above the north mountains hovers, brooding and beautiful, concealing many mysteries.

This is the place.

By the time of his return to camp, sunfather has flung a golden mantle across the horizon and khaan’s paws are returned to the good earth. He calls to the clan, summoning those nokud from their gers, and from their work.

The blessed gonji— , , , with beside, he will expect to be guarded by , , and . 

Had Ulya- been coddled in his absence by and ? Or had he also taken what the spirits gave him?

, , and , four men of the steppes, four strangers he would soon come to know, if they could be rightly trusted among alukhai. Similarly are , and , three women lesser-known.

Last is , a tigress, a wintry sheen of sleekness among mongols. Will she follow the call of wolf?

It is her choice. It is all of theirs to seek what Tengri gives, this group of displaced people on the cusp of a tribe.

“I am your khaan. I will now speak,” falls mongolian directly for gathered ears, “My name is Batu.” An illegitimate man! Whose name bears no prophecy! “We are the silver people, the Mongols. When they ask, we will tell them there are no separate tribes. There is only one alukhai. This is your home. Mine also now. We are who we are; warriors, and nomads. We do not settle. Sun and the bloodfly have come to the south, so we must go north, to the uplands, near ice, and water. Alukhai rides at dawn, as one. Now has come the time to move,” green eyes are upon Ulya-Yelp, “the nokud will guide the herd to fertile grounds, where we will remain through autumn. In winter, we walk again.”]]> [Image: Byy2izq.gif]

Click for route[Image: kkq3MG7.jpeg]

Pack meeting/announcement! no posting order <3 journey will take approx 4 days travel

For a final time was the jungle at his front. Khaan loped the last of week-long trails into the steppe, under the long unification of eagle-screech. Unbroken sweeps the horizon, in every direction; nothing to lean the eyes against but earth and sky.

At last blows away a deep ache for this vastness— the other, for which he had been driven away.

There is little justice in the world, the nokud have known since the death of theirs. Spirits take no part in the lives of men once they have been born. A nomad endures what the world sends his way.

Tengri has sent to him Alukhai.

At a high ledge khaan pulls a stop to gaze about him. Below, the river valley of the ordo spreads in majesty. Beyond the vast openness rises blue mountains, where clouds billow in splendor. Overhead, the summer sky is sharply, brilliantly blue. Two hawks circle here, dipping and soaring. Behind and above the north mountains hovers, brooding and beautiful, concealing many mysteries.

This is the place.

By the time of his return to camp, sunfather has flung a golden mantle across the horizon and khaan’s paws are returned to the good earth. He calls to the clan, summoning those nokud from their gers, and from their work.

The blessed gonji— , , , with beside, he will expect to be guarded by , , and . 

Had Ulya- been coddled in his absence by and ? Or had he also taken what the spirits gave him?

, , and , four men of the steppes, four strangers he would soon come to know, if they could be rightly trusted among alukhai. Similarly are , and , three women lesser-known.

Last is , a tigress, a wintry sheen of sleekness among mongols. Will she follow the call of wolf?

It is her choice. It is all of theirs to seek what Tengri gives, this group of displaced people on the cusp of a tribe.

“I am your khaan. I will now speak,” falls mongolian directly for gathered ears, “My name is Batu.” An illegitimate man! Whose name bears no prophecy! “We are the silver people, the Mongols. When they ask, we will tell them there are no separate tribes. There is only one alukhai. This is your home. Mine also now. We are who we are; warriors, and nomads. We do not settle. Sun and the bloodfly have come to the south, so we must go north, to the uplands, near ice, and water. Alukhai rides at dawn, as one. Now has come the time to move,” green eyes are upon Ulya-Yelp, “the nokud will guide the herd to fertile grounds, where we will remain through autumn. In winter, we walk again.”]]> <![CDATA[مُقترنٌ بالفجر]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13194 Mon, 10 Aug 2026 17:50:10 -0400 Savitri]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13194 [Image: dcgnh8k-1c115a26-a91f-45ef-93e1-5faf7de9...Mk2FDkDLZY]
Night had settled gently over the strange lands of Mythris, the warmth of the day slowly giving way to the coolness of darkness. Above the flat-topped buttes, the sky stretched endlessly, scattered with stars while the towering forests stood as dark silhouettes against them. Savitri had curled herself beside her first husband, Tantamani, finally allowing herself to rest after the long day. The warmth of his larger body was comforting against the night's chill, a familiar presence amid a land that still felt so unfamiliar.

She remained quiet for some time, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Her golden eyes slowly opened. Savitri turned her head to look at him.

Even beneath the faint light of the stars, Tantamani's coat seemed to hold the warmth of the Sun. His powerful red and golden fur caught what little light reached them, while the scars scattered across his larger frame told stories Savitri knew. She admired him quietly. There was something reassuring about having him beside her.

Carefully, Savitri shifted closer, mindful not to disturb him. Her muzzle brushed gently against his before she gave him a soft lick, almost hesitant in her affection.
Her ears flicked backward shyly. She waited. Perhaps he was already asleep. Perhaps she should let him rest.

But after another moment, curiosity won over her hesitation.

In a barely audible whisper, she asked,

My beloved... are you still awake?

She kept her voice soft, almost apologetic, as though even asking might disturb the peace of the night.

Her golden eyes remained fixed upon him, waiting quietly for an answer.


]]> [Image: dcgnh8k-1c115a26-a91f-45ef-93e1-5faf7de9...Mk2FDkDLZY]
Night had settled gently over the strange lands of Mythris, the warmth of the day slowly giving way to the coolness of darkness. Above the flat-topped buttes, the sky stretched endlessly, scattered with stars while the towering forests stood as dark silhouettes against them. Savitri had curled herself beside her first husband, Tantamani, finally allowing herself to rest after the long day. The warmth of his larger body was comforting against the night's chill, a familiar presence amid a land that still felt so unfamiliar.

She remained quiet for some time, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Her golden eyes slowly opened. Savitri turned her head to look at him.

Even beneath the faint light of the stars, Tantamani's coat seemed to hold the warmth of the Sun. His powerful red and golden fur caught what little light reached them, while the scars scattered across his larger frame told stories Savitri knew. She admired him quietly. There was something reassuring about having him beside her.

Carefully, Savitri shifted closer, mindful not to disturb him. Her muzzle brushed gently against his before she gave him a soft lick, almost hesitant in her affection.
Her ears flicked backward shyly. She waited. Perhaps he was already asleep. Perhaps she should let him rest.

But after another moment, curiosity won over her hesitation.

In a barely audible whisper, she asked,

My beloved... are you still awake?

She kept her voice soft, almost apologetic, as though even asking might disturb the peace of the night.

Her golden eyes remained fixed upon him, waiting quietly for an answer.


]]> <![CDATA[Everything The Light Touches]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13188 Mon, 10 Aug 2026 13:43:57 -0400 Savitri]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13188 [Image: dcgnh8k-1c115a26-a91f-45ef-93e1-5faf7de9...Mk2FDkDLZY]
The Sun had begun its descent.

What had once been brilliant gold slowly softened into shades of amber, orange, and deep red, spilling across the flat-topped buttes and setting the forested heights ablaze. The great cliffs looked almost unreal beneath the dying light, their silhouettes reaching toward a sky painted in colors Savitri knew well.

She had settled into her sleeping arrangements for the evening, her body resting comfortably against the earth after another long day beneath the unfamiliar skies of new land. 

But sleep had not yet come.

Savitri sat quietly at the edge of the open grounds, her golden coat appearing to be glowing faintly beneath the last rays of sunlight. Her tail curled loosely around her paws as she watched the Sun sink beyond the horizon.

She had always loved sunsets.

There was something comforting about watching the Light depart only to know it would return again.

Yet tonight, that certainty felt different.

Her thoughts drifted toward the Golden Path. Her sister. The scattered Hearths. The wolves who had yet to find their way back to her.

Savitri lowered her gaze, ears flicking softly at the distant sounds of the others settling down for the night. She could hear movement in the surrounding camps, quiet conversations and the occasional rustle of paws through grass.

They were here. Some of them, at least. But how many were still wandering? How many were frightened? How many were waiting for someone to find them?

Her chest tightened.

She had become the Al-Muḍī' because her sister was gone. Some days, the title still felt like something borrowed, something too large for her to wear. But perhaps that was the burden of the Light. It did not wait for someone to feel ready. It simply shone.

Savitri lifted her eyes again as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon.


]]> [Image: dcgnh8k-1c115a26-a91f-45ef-93e1-5faf7de9...Mk2FDkDLZY]
The Sun had begun its descent.

What had once been brilliant gold slowly softened into shades of amber, orange, and deep red, spilling across the flat-topped buttes and setting the forested heights ablaze. The great cliffs looked almost unreal beneath the dying light, their silhouettes reaching toward a sky painted in colors Savitri knew well.

She had settled into her sleeping arrangements for the evening, her body resting comfortably against the earth after another long day beneath the unfamiliar skies of new land. 

But sleep had not yet come.

Savitri sat quietly at the edge of the open grounds, her golden coat appearing to be glowing faintly beneath the last rays of sunlight. Her tail curled loosely around her paws as she watched the Sun sink beyond the horizon.

She had always loved sunsets.

There was something comforting about watching the Light depart only to know it would return again.

Yet tonight, that certainty felt different.

Her thoughts drifted toward the Golden Path. Her sister. The scattered Hearths. The wolves who had yet to find their way back to her.

Savitri lowered her gaze, ears flicking softly at the distant sounds of the others settling down for the night. She could hear movement in the surrounding camps, quiet conversations and the occasional rustle of paws through grass.

They were here. Some of them, at least. But how many were still wandering? How many were frightened? How many were waiting for someone to find them?

Her chest tightened.

She had become the Al-Muḍī' because her sister was gone. Some days, the title still felt like something borrowed, something too large for her to wear. But perhaps that was the burden of the Light. It did not wait for someone to feel ready. It simply shone.

Savitri lifted her eyes again as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon.


]]> <![CDATA[Shangku chhung]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13187 Mon, 10 Aug 2026 12:55:37 -0400 Little Wolf]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13187
The cold water stung her flesh until she was ice itself. Filaments of light faded as the river’s current swept her to its stony floor. There, everything was dark. And Endless.

But then — ! She awoke with a loud gasp, lungs starved for air. She choked, coughed, sputtered, and writhed like a wounded snake. The air was hot and sunlight burned her wet face.

Something wasn’t right. Confusion speared through her.

Her.

Who? Where?… What am I?

Waterlogged fur — Fur! — squelched as she rolled over in agony on the dry grass, though there wasn’t a river for miles.

Her hands were now paws. Her scapula, streamlined and slender.

She moaned and willed herself to awaken from this horrible, horrible dream.]]>
The cold water stung her flesh until she was ice itself. Filaments of light faded as the river’s current swept her to its stony floor. There, everything was dark. And Endless.

But then — ! She awoke with a loud gasp, lungs starved for air. She choked, coughed, sputtered, and writhed like a wounded snake. The air was hot and sunlight burned her wet face.

Something wasn’t right. Confusion speared through her.

Her.

Who? Where?… What am I?

Waterlogged fur — Fur! — squelched as she rolled over in agony on the dry grass, though there wasn’t a river for miles.

Her hands were now paws. Her scapula, streamlined and slender.

She moaned and willed herself to awaken from this horrible, horrible dream.]]> <![CDATA[what's it worth?]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13183 Mon, 10 Aug 2026 02:46:48 -0400 Cosette]]> https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=13183
<3


Travel was slow, but Cosette didn't mind it. She wanted nothing more than to see the world and all it had to offer, and the glowing alabaster shadow that followed her somehow made everything seem so much more beautiful.

She'd gotten used to moving around by night, eager to keep Baal out of the sun as much as possible. Sleep was difficult for her though, and she ended up catnapping during the day more than anything. Minimal sleep was something she was acclimated to, however - the feeling of heavy eyelids and a perpetual exhaustion had become a constant.

But with Baal, the sleep she did manage to catch was deeper. More restful.

How funny it was that she could feel comfortable enough around someone else to get any sleep at all in their presence, much less slowly close the gap of space she'd always made sure to put between them beforehand.

It was wonderful, and she wished there was something she could do to make his life easier, as well.

Something to make it easier for him to travel under open skies without relying purely on the darkness to protect himself was a good start, but she had yet to figure out precisely the most comfortable way to do that. Leaves woven together was a failure - she had no opposable thumbs. Mud seemed uncomfortable. Just aloe wasn't enough. Aloe and sand felt gross on her skin.

But here, with these mazes filled with sandstone and sand and clay and dirt, she might find something.

It was a careful balance of aloe and soft clay, but she'd finally done it. The mixture was smooth and comfortable on her skin, where she'd placed it on her legs and the bridge of her nose to test it out. There was no way to tell if it would work against the sun, but there was only one way to figure that out.

But first, she needed to see if Baal would wear it at all.

Carefully she gathered the mixture into a leaf, which she picked up and carried back to where he was resting. Cosette put it down and crawled under the overhang, gently tapping her nose against his shoulder and scooting back a bit to give him space to wake up.

"Good morning, Baal," she said gently, patiently waiting for him to rouse.]]>
<3


Travel was slow, but Cosette didn't mind it. She wanted nothing more than to see the world and all it had to offer, and the glowing alabaster shadow that followed her somehow made everything seem so much more beautiful.

She'd gotten used to moving around by night, eager to keep Baal out of the sun as much as possible. Sleep was difficult for her though, and she ended up catnapping during the day more than anything. Minimal sleep was something she was acclimated to, however - the feeling of heavy eyelids and a perpetual exhaustion had become a constant.

But with Baal, the sleep she did manage to catch was deeper. More restful.

How funny it was that she could feel comfortable enough around someone else to get any sleep at all in their presence, much less slowly close the gap of space she'd always made sure to put between them beforehand.

It was wonderful, and she wished there was something she could do to make his life easier, as well.

Something to make it easier for him to travel under open skies without relying purely on the darkness to protect himself was a good start, but she had yet to figure out precisely the most comfortable way to do that. Leaves woven together was a failure - she had no opposable thumbs. Mud seemed uncomfortable. Just aloe wasn't enough. Aloe and sand felt gross on her skin.

But here, with these mazes filled with sandstone and sand and clay and dirt, she might find something.

It was a careful balance of aloe and soft clay, but she'd finally done it. The mixture was smooth and comfortable on her skin, where she'd placed it on her legs and the bridge of her nose to test it out. There was no way to tell if it would work against the sun, but there was only one way to figure that out.

But first, she needed to see if Baal would wear it at all.

Carefully she gathered the mixture into a leaf, which she picked up and carried back to where he was resting. Cosette put it down and crawled under the overhang, gently tapping her nose against his shoulder and scooting back a bit to give him space to wake up.

"Good morning, Baal," she said gently, patiently waiting for him to rouse.]]>