Sukkubus' Teepee

[soquili~teepees]

Welcome to the home of Sukkubus and her soquili





The Teepee

They live in the mountians!

 

[Sukkubus]

-- Official Post

-- Table of Contents

-- Updates

-- The Guardian, Coyote

-- The First, Primaveran

-- The Journey-Prepared, Ferrao

-- Reserved

Quote:

Please do not post until the front page has been filled. People allowed to post freely thereafter:

- EchoLimaFoxtrot

- Kamiki

- Yayoi

- ~Latonia de la Courtel~

Please keep posts in character, be it horse or Native American persona. Please remain polite and genial unless earlier RP has deemed otherwise (or if it's very much out of character.

 

[Sukkubus]

heart U p d a t e s

I'M SO BAD AT THESE~

9-9-07, Prima was found!

9-30-07, I won Firefly's and Sibalto's beautiful basket in an RP contest!

10-1-07, Prima is born! The little hellion is out of his shell and ready for mayhem!

 

[Sukkubus]

[ C O Y O T E ]
Lo! Behold the coyote's cry!

Name: Coyote
Ethnicity: Mayan
Grew up/From: Found near the cenote in Chichen Itza, but travels between the city and Uxmal

Age: Unknown, but estimated to be around 31
Height: 4’11”
Body type: Round edges, wide hips; pudgy, but shapely nonetheless
Marital: It’s difficult to explain
Occupation: Overseer of cenote offerings, Jaguar’s emissary

On Coyote
Unused to teepee life, Coyote’s home is little more than a lean-to with a woven blanket thrown over it. It is of no particular use to her unless it’s cold; otherwise she sleeps on the ground outside. She values her freedom, even in its smallest forms.

Coyote has many homes, but she claims her roots span from Chichen Itza to Uxmal – my blood runs through its clay, and my heart lays in two pieces. She was told that she was not born – as her parents she knows nothing of – but spewed from the depths of the cenote (Sagrado) when the rains fell hard. An offering from Chaac, they told her. And from the god, she was said to be for a god – Jaguar.

So when she turned twelve, she was ‘married’ to the deity, this harbinger of news from the underground.

But Coyote’s heart was wild, and when one land called, she followed. She would leave for weeks at a time, much to the chagrin of her people; oftentimes she would come back bearing news in Jaguar’s name, but they were only stories of the dreams she had to make up for her absence.

Because of her position, she was regarded at arm’s length. It was fine for her. Though sociable by nature, there was something universal within her that made her presence awkward – and being aware of your oddities made it so much uneasier.

On Jaguar
Despite the god not being a physically manifested entity, after her union with him Coyote has had a regular series of dreams in which she does see him. She disregards this as her subconscious holding onto daily talk of Jaguar, but the dreams have become more frequent and more real to the point of making her question which exactly is the world of the waking, and which is the land of slumber. Needless to say, she has become ‘touched’ to say the least, and thus has a tendency of reacting oddly in due circumstances.


Picture drawn by me, colored by my friend Unaru. Disregard the ears for this RP.  

[Sukkubus]

[ P R I M A V E R A N ]
Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't
you remain like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on
the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You
always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the
end.

Name: Primaveran
Nick Name: Prima, Prima
Name Meaning: Primavera means 'Spring' in Spanish - 'Prima' is also first in Italian
Type: Mer-soquili
Acquired: Given to Kamiki and I by EchoLimaFoxtrot after she won a game - she's amazing!
Special Markings/Attributes: Well, his fish half for starters! Also, he's covered in spots and speckles!
Family: N/A
Father: N/A
Mother: N/A
Siblings: N/A
Mate: What's a 'girl'?
History: A simple shell left on a reef to be born to the silent ocean and her hissing peaks.
Personality: Playful, just like any healthy young colt should be, with a penchant for getting into trouble - and not necessarily getting out! Petulant, obstinate, and sometimes just downright pesky, one needs the patience of a saint to deal with one as rowdy and headstrong as Primaveran. He's a real handful!
Friends:

Not Amusing (The Hatching) [Angathi and Prima] [X]

Shells! What do we have here? [Tai'jin and Prima] [X]

The REAL Down Under! [Pukka and Prima] [X]

Party Crashers [Zuriel and Prima] [X]





[Shell]

 

[Sukkubus]

[ F E R R A O ]

SAINT, n.: A dead sinner revised and edited. - Ambrose Bierce

_____[/img]

Name: Ferrao
Nick Name:
Name Meaning: Journey-prepared
Type:
Acquired: RP contest!
Special Markings/Attributes: Bright scarlet dual markings beneath his eyes, and a weeping eye insignia on his shoulder, parallel to his mother's.
Family:
Father: Sibalto
Mother: Firefly
Siblings: Dafina and Imrikalto
Mate: !
History:
Personality: Quiet, inquisitive, and well-mannered, Ferrao is a relatively subdued colt - strange for his age. He can, at times, come off as edgy and shy, preferring the familial closeness of his siblings and parents as opposed to other foals his age.
Friends:



Three New Little Lives (The Beginning) [X]


Are you of any interest to me? [Septimus and Ferrao (adult)] [X]


Old fashioned meets Anti-social [Ryu'Rage and Ferrao (adult)] [X]

Ew, Boys have cooties! [Vidia and Ferrao (adult)] [X]

Quote:

Growing up surrounded by your family has left a lasting impression on you. The love of your parents and the closeness of your siblings was always something you enjoyed and cherished. But now you've grown and wish to explore the lands uninhibited by the watchful eye of your parents.

Where do you go? How do you deal with and feel about being on your own for the first time? Is it lonely or a welcomed break from the family scene?

I apologize beforehand for its length -- but...I felt the inherent need to write, and write something true, so I hope it's acceptable. The name Ferrao means journey-prepared. Even if I don't win, I hope you enjoy the read!




The whistling began when he had come of age, a soft and seductive lark song that would spiral into the air and drift just out of reach. Oh, but he could always hear it ringing at the base of his ears. It had become steadily louder as he grew older, creeping into the proud arch of his neck and settling into the taut muscles of his legs. He found himself longing for something he could not quite place, longing for something that was just out of reach.

But why? Lying amidst his siblings, or galloping across the plains in his parent’s wake, he knew he had everything. And yet he felt like something was missing, as though his heart murmured just low enough for him to hear, but never loud enough for him to understand.

It frightened him. It made him feel selfish, foolish. He had love, he had freedom; he had the wind in his mane and the earth at his hooves. But try as he might, he could not shake the feeling. Each laugh made him ache, and his smile began to falter. At night when left to his own devices, he could not sleep, tormented by his restless yearning. The quiet that had surrounded him, the quiet that he appreciated so explicitly began to antagonize him.

And then one morning Ferrao looked to the mountains and in that moment their white-capped peaks sang to him, full-throated and beautiful. They sang of more than freedom.

They sang of independence – and it struck him breathless.

‘But why would you leave us?’ his siblings cried.

‘I’m not.’

‘For how long?’ his mother asked.

‘Never forever.’

‘But long enough,’ she murmured.

His mother’s face was etched into his memory, as though he had stared at the sun for far too long: a mixture of caution, wonder, and perhaps hurt. He had never responded after that and he was the first to look away; with his mother, he was always first.

But Ferrao was powerless to the feeling, and the birdsong soon became a siren’s call, unrelenting like the evening’s tide. He could feel her crashing over him and dragging him under until he could barely breathe. At times he felt like running, running just to run and never stopping – and then he thought of his family and kept his hooves firmly planted on the ground. And against his better judgment, against his will, his resolve began to crumble.

‘Go.’ His father said one day.

They had simply been standing at the edge of the wood, watching birds winging through the air. Alive. Free.

Liberated.

The stallion tossed his head, ‘Go.’

‘Go where?’ The chains tinkled excitedly in his ears, as if they were breaking. Shattering like glass.

His father laughed aloud then, startling pheasants from the underbrush in an explosion of burnished copper, ‘Go forth – these lands were meant to be explored, and you were not meant for the fetters I often wear.’

‘But Mother –‘

Sibalto shook his head and looked towards the horizon. The sun glittered from behind the mountains, and for a moment he felt the call himself; it was as fickle as the breeze and was soon gone.

‘I will talk to her – sometimes it’s better not to say goodbye. But go, go before she sees you. Or me, for that matter.’

Ferrao tried not to notice the sad amusement which colored his father’s face as he took a tentative step forward; instead, he focused on the pride instead.

‘I’m not saying goodbye, father – I’ll be back. Family is forever, right?’

The stallion smiled wanly at his son: ‘Only if your mother doesn’t catch us, that is! Now go! The mountains are calling you!’

Ferrao took a step forward and looked over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of his sire before he took another step forward, and then another. Before he knew it he felt himself cantering, and then lengthening his steps into a gallop, and suddenly the hoof beats were all he heard, drumming wildly in his ears in cadence with the pulse of his heart.

And the earth sped beneath him, and the call of the mountains and the pull of his spirit harmonized and Ferrao was free.

As free as the birds that winged above.

 

[Sukkubus]

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