Dunes

Updated and marked as final!

Oooh, rockin'! That was a cool read. Makes me feel like I should expand on her relations with her family... Right now it sorta seems like her tribe doesn't like her, when really, most of it was "kids can be major jerks sometimes". (Even in a nice place where everyone generally gets along! E.g., Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara.) Her aunt definitely holds a grudge, but there's one of those in every family. I'm gonna put on some tunes and work on this!

Ooh, I just had a thought about this - would a charlatan fortune teller fall under this? Sort of like a spooky con artist? She could be a weirdo aunt or something. I haven't actually made said pony yet, but I like the idea of a family full of black sheep. (Figuratively speaking...)

Dollhouse yesss. Why do so many of Joss Whedon's series get cut short? FIREFLY. >:[ I pretty much got into Buffy because my roommate liked it. Growing up, I had friends who loved that series. Specifically, they loved Spike and/or Angel. A lot. Like, "Let me tell you alllll about the hot things that Spike did on the latest Buffy episode!!!!! Even though you don't watch the show!" (They did the same thing with anime. To this day, I still reflexively groan and roll my eyes anytime I hear the word 'bishie'. Or 'Naruto'.) Turned me off of it for a long, long while. But then my roommate was watching it one day, and it was on a scene with Willow and Tara being all couple-y, and... What can I say? I am a simple woman, with simple likes. Aaand I watched the series from the beginning so I could get to those bits, but fell in love with the show on the way. I can definitely see how not everyone would like it, or would have problems with some of the writing, though.

Heyyy, that's a good point. Growing up, half of the stuff I packed WAS toys. My mom often had to go in my suitcase after I was done and make sure I'd actually packed clothes. What kinda kid doesn't take along at least a handful of their favorite toys? I almost always at least brought a stuffed animal. That said, there was also something about grandma's house that radiated boredom rays no matter how many toys I brought (probably the fact that it was a lot quieter), so I can see how Sweetie Belle would still be bored, even if she had brought a suitcase full of toys. This episode made me smile! Also made me realize I was a horrible big sister growing up, dang. >.> I got over it, though; my brothers and I seem to get along pretty well now, at least. (We're even all bronies. I kind of have a rockin' family.) I just wish it hadn't taken me until I moved away to college to stop brushing them off.

I hadn't thought about it that way. I reckon it depends on the individual situation and individuals involved. A lot of my thinking came from the standpoint of the abused having to wonder, "Can I really trust you to never try to hurt me again?" ... Of course, now that I've had time to stew on this, the kid was older by this point, and presumably wasn't in danger of being put under his father's power again, so that does alter the dynamic. Some of my thinking was along the lines of battered wives/husbands going back to their spouses because they're acting nice again, which isn't totally applicable to this situation from the kid's point of view (though it might be from his mother's). I was thinking very much in terms of the danger of future physical threat, but a 20-something (I think he'd be, if I remember the numbers right - I don't have the article open) isn't likely to move back in with his formerly abusive father. From that standpoint, having a lunch with his father wouldn't hurt, but I still don't think it should be something he should've been pressured into doing. I think, regardless, it would need to take a considerable amount of effort on the part of the abuser to prove, yes, they have changed, and they're not just acting. ... Also don't care for the idea of it being anyone's "turn" to dole out abuse, either.

Maybe it wasn’t smoke, not really. Maybe a nose full of sand just smelled like smoke. Maybe she was imagining things, or maybe… No, Milky smelled it too. Crystal dropped her bags and galloped towards the scent. She could see a smoke trail, slithering its way up towards the sky. She aimed herself for it, willing her aching muscles forward. She tried to keep from coughing, but the dust still in the air made it difficult. She didn’t know what she’d do when she got there, but she had to know… Had to. She skidded to a halt, raising a dust cloud around her. Of course. Of course it was the house. There wasn’t much to burn but the well. Her hindquarters sunk. Then her head sunk. Maybe her mother had been right. Maybe she’d have to go back to Manehattan, with its rain, and nice weather, and firefighters… And stupid snotty ponies who had laughed at her when she said she wanted to start a farm. She slinked over to the well, her hooves making sad little ‘whuds’ as they kicked up dust. She poked her face in, and sniffed. Water. There was water in there! Maybe she could... Crack. Something collapsed behind her. She looked over her shoulder. The cabin wasn’t much more than crumbled embers by now. No saving it. Crunch. She stuck her face back in the well. It was nice in there. There were no burning cabins in it. She tried to get a glimpse of the water at the bottom, but it was too dark. She’d left her bags with that other pony, hadn’t she? It didn’t feel like it mattered much at the moment. She stared into the dark, thinking. Shadowbolts! That was it. Milky looked like someone she’d seen at one of their shows. Maybe she’d been one herself. That would be exciting. Fwoomph. Something caught fire anew. Yes, the Shadowbolts would be much more exciting than hearing her new cabin burn to the ground. She made the decision to think about that instead. She looked up, a little dazed, and shouted, “Hey! Were you ever in the Shadowbolts?” She had no idea if the other pony was anywhere nearby.

That's probably true enough. The only abuse in my life is that my friends have experienced, and I've been there for the fallout. My best friend still has nightmares about it that she calls me to tell me about. Every time my roommate's father calls her, she ends up in tears. So I do tend to get very defensive over abuse victims (maybe more vocally than I need to be - most folks in their right minds generally agree abuse = bad ), because far too many of my friends have been on the receiving end. Thankfully, though, all of my experience is second hand. That guy oughta be ready to do a lot of crawling, though. But if he's serious and he really has changed, he probably knows that. For all I know, he's ready to try to make it up to his family for the rest of his life. And if that's the case, then I genuinely do wish him the best. But eh! It's all pretty much theory from my perspective - I don't know this kid, or his father. I wasn't deliberately trying to be persnickety at y'all, so apologies if I came off that way!

I don't know how easily I'd forgive someone who beat me or my mother. Especially my mother. I'd certainly never trust them again. If he truly has changed, then he needs to work frickin' hard to prove it; not just show up for a lunch, say sorry, and expect his family to welcome him back with open arms. He should have to face the damage he caused. And if his son never wants to see him again, he should respect that. Leave an open invitation for the kid to come talk if he ever changes his mind, sure. Leave the ball in his court. But I don't think anyone actually owes anything to their abuser. Forgiveness would be very, very big of the kid, and accepting any healing the man has done would be a nice outcome... But to say the father deserves a second chance effectively places his needs over those of the family he once abused, in my opinion. EDIT: Re-reading, I feel I should clarify. This is not to say I think the father is irreparably a horrible human being and actually deserves to be shunned forever and ever because of what he did. Just that, in a reconciliation over physical abuse and that inherent abuse of power, all of the power should, by rights, go to those who were abused. Even if it doesn't result in a satisfactory outcome for him. Even if it means they opt never to see him again. Once someone crosses those boundaries, and breaks that fundamental trust between parent and child (or spouse and spouse) with violence, you shouldn't feel obligated to give them the time of day if you don't want to. Victims of abuse have been controlled quite enough already - any interactions with their abuser should be entirely on their terms.

Edited to add some WIP pictures!

F-f-f-fiiiifth... element! *whud* I could probably quote that movie in my sleep. I do love it so. Also, I thought the Lion King made a pretty decent translation to 3D. Wasn't perfect in some spots, but bits like where Simba was following Rafiki through the brambles gave me chills. (Though that was probably at least equal parts 'oo 3D!' and 'omg nostalgia I LOVE THIS MOVIE SO MUCH')

"Ah! I can see that. I had wondered about the mane - it's lovely, but unusual. Is it like that naturally, or do you... use product..." her voice faded out. They were out in the middle of nowhere. What were the odds of there being a salon anywhere near here? Besides, she was trying to leave all that frou-frou gunk behind her. But... it was so fun sometimes, especially when no one was making her do it. Besides, this mare looked like she probably hadn't had a pony-pedi in all her life. Who didn't love a pony-pedi? "Probably coincidence, then. Still, I get the feeling you look familiar somehow. Ever been in the theater? Or papers?" She thought for a moment. Was she making this mare uncomfortable? She seemed uneasy. "Ah, maybe you just look like someone I know," Crystal shrugged. Crystal grabbed the remaining two bags, with more effort than she remembered them requiring before. She was so tired and thirsty! And that storm had been so stressful. She tried to suppress a whimper as she felt a muscle pull in her back, but coughed instead. She felt more than a little pathetic, but she had to save face. "Thank you for showing me about. And you're more than welcome! I only wish I could offer you something of greater value. These bags cost a pretty bit back home, but I have a feeling they're not worth so much now." Crystal trotted alongside her guide as best she could. She was going to have to toughen up. And stop coughing so much in front of someone who actually lives here. 'She's going to think I'm a "city-slicker"!' she thought. 'She probably already does,' said a cruel thought in the back of her head. But this mare was asking about plants! She knew plants. "They're a sort of grain. Not the best by themselves, but they grow well in hot, dry places, and make good bread. And chili peppers, ha! Those are my specialty," she pointed at her flank. "The ones I grow burn your mouth when you eat them. It's such an exciting sensation! Supposedly, some ponies have grown them so spicy you can't eat them, but I haven't met a pepper yet that I can't eat." She beamed. A breeze came head on, blowing some sand in her face as it did so. Crystal coughed, and blew some sand out of her nose before she knew what she was doing. Mortified at her lack of decorum, she looked up, "Er, begging your pardon." She sniffled. She sniffed, and sniffed again, more intently. She made a face. There was a scent on the air... She squinted at the distance. The dust and sand must still be settling - she couldn't see a thing. "Can, uh," she coughed. "Can you smell smoke?" she asked.

UGHH I want to so badly, but then I have to consider that I'm starting student teaching in January and I won't be able to justify the money spent, since I'll maybe, possibly be able to work 5-10 hours a week while student teaching, if I'm lucky. =/

That's the only way I can think of it without my brain breaking. But then, I sing to myself, "If you're wondering how he eats and breathes, And other science facts, Then repeat to yourself 'It's just a show, I should really just relax."

My friends were doing it. I was, like, 12? 13? Something. One of my online friends had another friend who started a RP board about brightly-colored, magical, talking cats. (Obviously my tastes have matured, having moved to... brightly-colored... magical ponies. MOVING ON.) Most of the people involved were artists of some stripe, and I kept seeing my friends post drawings of these cool-lookin' cats and I was like, "Eff it, I want in!" But I was terrrible at responding, and too scared to let anything bad happen to my characters, and I eventually gave up. My friends did some realtime RPing on Furcadia, but I wasn't on every single night like they were, so I tended to get left out of the serious plot stuff they came up with. (My preference was for fun, jokey stuff anyway.) Sometime later I came across a board for a comic I kinda liked, and it was all talkin' wolves. I kept that up for a while, but eventually the drama ran me off. I've kind of avoided RP since then, but the world FiM has set up just seems really inviting and like there's a lot to build on, so I got back into it. Plus, I've gotten better at writing. Orrr I've at least gotten better about not wanting anything bad and/or embarrassing happen to my characters, and am capable of writing characters beyond "flaming, effeminate dude".

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Quartz!" She said, nodding her head in deference and offering a hoof. She thought for a moment; where had she heard that name before? "Hmm. Quartz. Quartz.. I could swear I've heard that recently." She scrunched up her face in thought, running through her recent memories. Had she heard it in town? On the train? She knew she'd heard or read something like it recently. It was famous for something. And this mare did look strangely familiar. Had she seen a picture of her? Think, Crystal, don't embarrass yourself... A-ha! "Quartz, of course! Would you happen to be of the Fillydelphia Quartzes? I believe my mother had some dealings with their jewelry business some time ago." She looked thoughtful. "I think I was dragged along to one of their dinners as a young filly." She made a face. Her mother had made her wear a constricting, itchy lace dress, and then she'd had to 'play' with one of their snotty little foals... He'd spent the entire evening taunting Crystal, and then put liquid soap in her hair. Come to think of it, she didn't really like the Quartzes at all... But oh! What if this mare actually was related to them? She'd probably just insulted her by saying she was dragged, and then making such a face. Oh dear. She looked again at her companion. This mare looked nothing like the fancy ponies she'd met as a filly, now that she thought about it. Besides, weren't the Fillydelphia bunch a unicorn family? The name was probably just a coincidence. No matter. "I am supposed to be headed towards... Twenty Needles, I think they called the place. Southeast of here, I believe? It's supposed to be a bit of a dumpy little cabin, but I think that sounds exciting. The gentlecolt I spoke to did at least mention there was a well," she beamed. This was quite exciting, sand or no! "I'm starting a little farm down there. Trying to, anyway. I brought along some pearl millet seeds, pigeonpea, and of course my chili peppers! I'm looking forward to it; I think the habaneros will get quite spicy here with the heat. Heavens above, I don't know how they grow apples here when it's so arid." She paused. She should probably stop before she went into one of her tangents. She found that most ponies tended to get a little glassy-eyed when she started talking about botany and biodiversity. Wait, Milky had asked a question, hadn't she? "Oh! Help with bags would be just lovely. I'm afraid all my bits are in the bank, but I could offer you some... 'corned-bread' I think it was. Mother gave it to me before I left; said I should have a little taste of my new home. Mind you, it did come from a bakery in Manehattan, so it's not exactly authentic..." She felt a little awful offering paltry food to this pony who'd offered her a helping hoof, but what was there to do? She didn't want to head back to town and make a withdrawal. She hoped she hadn't just insulted somepony who'd offered to help, after all.

You have my deepest condolences. Losing family is always hard, especially one so close. I know words from even the closest friends and family can't heal those wounds, let alone those from a stranger on the internet, but for what it's worth I am thinking of you and your family, Artax.

Would I be allowed to come up with a few basic conventions for this tribe she comes from? (Subject to approval and input, of course.) Simple stuff like "dudes tend to wear this kind of jewelry, in these colors, and girls tend to wear this stuff, here's what they tend to wear in common, here's some examples of what their body art looks like and means..." Since tribes aren't all that interconnected and all, and there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of zebra activity, I wondered if it might be within bounds to do so. I... I just love worldbuilding so much.

Holy awesome! Thanks for finding those! I LOVE the lion-face guy. *Squint* Though... I think the guy with the face paint might... just have a watermark over his face. It would be totally badass as face paint though. Buahaha, I guess this means I get to draw some super ornate jewelry! I think I'll draw her as going over-the-top. And maybe draw some male zebras too. I feel all inspired now! I think it would be fun to write her in a pony jewelry store or something. BUY ALL THE THINGS!

H-hey, that was a pretty fair article! I was pleasantly surprised. ... And then I go and read the comments. Le sigh. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised most of the negative comments are along the lines of, "KIDS THESE DAYS. GET A HAIRCUT, YA PANSY." Haters gonna hate, I suppose.

Ohhh I totally missed the map! That's awesome. Oops, yeah, forgot the bit about the cutie mark field. It was rather late when I wrote this - flash of inspiration and I wanted to get it written down before bed, y'know. Her personality is sorta still in the works, too, but I do see her as being determined, devoted, and loving, but without much of a sense of humor and easily irritated. One of those "nice if you get to know her, but kind of a drag otherwise" types. Which I do think would be fun to contrast with "loves frou-frou girly stuff". I'll do some thinking on it and tinker with that a little later today. But oh! The thought occurs that I'm not exactly sure what the norm is for male zebras, so I am not sure what appearance standard she'd be rebelling against. I know Zecora wears jewelry, and the neck rings she wears are probably equivalent to the neck rings that women in a few African and Asian cultures wear. Would male zebras wear jewelry, and would it be significantly different than what the females wore? Hmm. I do intend to see if I can start somethin' in the zebra boards, but thought it might be a smart idea to work it into her story that she'd pop up in a variety of places, considering how slow it is over there at the moment!

Name: Akila Sex: Female Age: Mare Species: Zebra Coat Color: White Mane/Tail/Markings Color & Style: Typical zebra marking pattern. Medium brown/ginger stripes. Mane looks like a typical zebra mane, albeit a bit messy. Hair on tail is all one color, and generally spiky and windswept-looking. Eye Color: Pinkish brown. Tribal Symbol: See spoiler tag below! Physique: Tall and muscular. Bigger and generally more masculine-looking than the other mares in her tribe. Origin: Savannah, but wanders around quite a bit, and not entirely by choice. Roleplay Type: Mane Occupation: Warrior (more like a tribal guard/defender), but is on a mission. Quest. Thing. Motivation: To live a normal life in her tribe, and do her duty. They do not always coincide. She also wants to be a proper singer for her tribe, but is willing to let it wait until she is older and not so good of a warrior anymore. Likes: (optional) Singing, keeping the ones she loves safe, not being stared at, her dog (Jelani, a rhodesian ridgeback/african lion dog), girly stuff/anything that shows she is Not Male Dislikes: (optional) Situations she can't muscle out of, being stared at and/or mistaken for male, wastes of time Character Summary: It started with a dream; one she now regrets having. Akila's life had been as ordinary as it could've been for a zebra such as herself. Her ginger stripes meant she stuck out as it was, and then she had to go and grow to be so much bigger and more muscular than the other fillies. The others often joked that she looked like a colt. Her cousin, Eulah, was the most frequent and cruel. Akila tended to get in a lot of fights, and won them frequently. Her brawls with Eulah became a frequent occurrence; Eulah was one of the few who matched Akila for strength and determination. Akila hated it, but the tribe saw it as an opportunity. Here was a filly who was big, strong, and distinct from the others -- the perfect distraction and defense should the tribe be attacked! With some urging, she trained for the warrior rank. When she was grown, she undertook the Warrior Trials. She passed tests of speed, strength, and endurance, and spent a month in the dry grasslands, alone - a test of survival. Upon her return, she was accepted to the warrior rank, and was given her tribal tattoo. Apart from occasional monster attacks, when the warriors of the tribe would pull together to defend their home, the Warrior Trials were the hardest thing she'd had to endure. As a grown mare, and a warrior of some rank, she even commanded some respect within her tribe. The taunts had stopped, and many of her former tormentors became friends, or else kept respectful distance. She and Eulah had even begun to mend bridges. She felt somewhat apart from the other mares in her tribe; she found she had much more in common with the other warriors. She got more of their jokes, for one thing (not that she got many, even then). It wasn't as if she wasn't clever, precisely. She just understood things she could touch a little better than she understood wordplay. Warrior jokes involved far more foodfights and pranks. She liked those. She did want to be closer to the other mares. They traded jewelry, which she liked, and they sang songs, which she really liked, but she felt a bit like an elephant in a pottery shop around them. Still, they were nice enough to her. All in all, she was happy, and felt she'd found her place. But then she had that inconvenient dream. In it, strange, angry creatures she had never seen before swarmed the village. They were all so different. Some looked like large, gaunt zebras, but with no stripes, and were of different colors. Some had horns, some had wings, some had none. Others looked even stranger - creatures that were half-lion, half bird (such a thing!); ones that looked like ordinary lizards, but so much larger; still others she couldn't make out at all. Monsters certainly lurked close by, but these were like nothing she had seen before. It was the most fitful and unsettling nightmare of her life. Akila thought that so terrifying a dream must be an illness, or perhaps something slightly mystical. So she sought the advice of one of the tribe's elders, known for her mystical wisdom; her aunt. The elder's interpretation was quite a bit more mystical than Akila had hoped. These creatures, the elder explained, did exist. Not half so corrupted and terrifying, but they walked the world nonetheless. The twisted forms she saw might have been angry spirits, or a symbol of these foreign creatures bearing their village ill-will, perhaps readying an attack. That Akila saw this meant she was to take steps to prevent it - she must go abroad and seek the source, be it spirits or earth-beings. "But I'm not a mystic, or a diplomat, nor do I want to be!" Akila said. "Too bad. It was your dream," her aunt grinned. Akila had a funny feeling this was retribution for all of the swollen eyes and bruises she'd given her cousin over the years. Still, though she might have heard descriptions of foreign creatures abroad when she was a little filly (she couldn't quite remember), and it might have just been a nightmare from all that stress... Her aunt was an elder. Akila didn't think she could very well go on with any respect in the tribe if she ignored a direct request, especially one that sounded so important. She was of the opinion it was a colossal waste of time, and wasn't entirely sure how much of that spiritual mumbo-jumbo she really believed anymore, but Akila the Warrior never shirked her duties. She'd treat it with all due reverence... stupid a task as it was. So, with only a vague idea of what she was supposed to be doing, and a nagging feeling that she was being punished, she and her dog Jelani set out to explore. Maybe she could scrape together some proof that she'd pacified something, just to shut her aunt up. -------------- (And, yes, the intention is that her aunt is just messing with her; I'm not trying to set her up to be some sort of Mythical Tribal Savior, tempting as it would be to have her shout, "I AM THE KWIZEBRA HADERACH!") --- EDIT: PICTURE FINISHED! Akila and Jelani! First time I've ever done anything in Flash. Can't believe I'd waited that long! That program is awesome once you know what the tools do. Jelani's little ridge is dyed red. I'm debating putting other tribal markers on him, but he's a dog. He might just lick them off. Tribal mark explanation behind the spoiler - I squeezed as much of her personality into it as I could! Marking this as final.

So someone was there! Crystal sat upright, knocking her head on the roof of her luggage-fort. She scooted out backwards, with rather less dignity than she was hoping. "Yes, I'm - pleah," she spat out some sand, "I'm fine, thank you for asking." She shook herself, attempting to rid her mane of some of the sand. The wind had made such a mess of it, though; it was a futile task. "My, I must look ridiculous," she said, pawing at her mane as she talked. She looked at her former shelter. "And, ooh, that'll be the end of that luggage. I just hope the peppers are okay... I suppose this sort of thing happens often, does it?" She stopped and looked up. A rather... severe looking white pegasus was standing before her. Severe, with interesting taste in headgear, though she supposed that goggles probably came in handy here. And what was that brown thing? A mask, maybe? Whatever it was, it looked like something her mother wouldn't move without a long stick. She realized she was staring. A mane full of sand and a pounding headache or no, the Towers family were never rude. "But, oh! I do apologize. Manners, ah. I'm Crystal Towers. What might your name be?"

I've been active at my university's gay-straight alliance, and there are people there who were kicked out when they were underage (either permanently or just for a few months). A couple were disowned. My cousin moved out of my aunt's house when she was seventeen because her mother kept sending her her to religious counseling after she came out. So it's possible, and considering the whole "boys liking girly things is SHAMEFUL" attitude that most people are so well-trained to believe, his parents might have equated "likes girly ponies" with "he is a homosexual/pervert" (and, for some folks, those might as well be the same thing). But, yeah, I don't know if I swallow the idea of the police saying she's within her rights to kick him out, assuming that's what was said. But I'm not sure of the legality of the situation.