I am a dark stain on the paper of the world. Moving, rolling, trudging against the canvas of the world, smearing my blackness as I go. The inky substance that patters off me like rain is quickly absorbed into the snow, some kind of demented icee flavor which I wouldn't suggest tasting. I shiver as the ice tugs at my fetlocks and snags at my tail, the wet brush that paints my path behind me. Still, it's better than rain.

I stop to catch my breath; it rolls in clouds from my nose and I watch it with a boyish curiosity. The body of a tree takes my weight for the time being, which isn't saying much given my sorry shape. Though always thin I am particularly skeleton now - I am not well suited for the wilds, though I have been built for survival, as much as I sometimes wish I wasn't. At nights I ponder curling up in the snow and never waking up, but every morning there I stand, awake. Awake and miserable.

I shake my head, snow falling from it like dandruff.
Maybe it was dandruff, I hadn't bathed in a while...

I yawn, night fitting over the sky like a blanket, one which I could snuggle under, or at least, hide in a little bit better. The trees shield some of the moonlight, helping me sink into the shadows, but there's no denying my contrast against the realm's winter coat. It's not safe here, though I wonder just where safe is because I've never found it.

This place was definitely familiar to me though. Had I been here before?
Rain flashes to my mind, a yellow girl and a washed out dragon (me).
Dragon, dragon, dragon... Unbidden one flits from my mane, a heart trailing behind it after my tail. I watch my subconscious artwork, as perplexed as ever when my past tries to communicate with me. Is it a sign this place isn't safe, that dragons are here? My heart hammers at the thought and I sink deeper against the tree as my artwork disperses like dark rain.

I should go on, but I'm so tired, so hungry. Surely I can wait just a little bit longer. Anxiously I start to gnaw on the bark. It's flavorless, but it's something.

There was something about the colourless landscape that captivated the young mare’s imagination. Her eyes had been filled with admiration as the sun set draining colour from the world and turning it to an ashen view. The mixture of night and snow was dazzling, the banshee felt easily at home wherever she walked. Along with the mass of white came a new kind of natural quiet as it cushioned her feet, the shadows were many and the odd ‘hoot’ of an owl sent an enjoyable shiver down her spine. Yes, nightfall in winter was perhaps one of her most favourite things. It offered her a respite from the stresses that had come with her new twist of fortune and she appreciated every second that her mind felt at ease. When Ghost finally dragged herself from the depths of her perfect euphoria was when she noticed that she had travelled into the Threshold, where the trees were laden with snow and the undergrowth now crunched with ice beneath her feet. Her eyes briefly strayed downwards and there, stained into the pallid ground, was a trail of intriguing liquid darkness.

Curiousity piqued, the Cadaverous followed the inky path through the wintry woodland. What had made this kind of trail? It was almost like following the steps of someone who was badly injured, but instead of bleeding red, they leaked blobs of pitch instead. How bizarre?! Maybe she was completely wrong and this was a substance of a different kind, though she daren’t test it on her tongue. It might make her feathers fall off or cause her throat to close; it would surely pay to be wise when in the face of the unknown. Though the thought did excite her a little.

It wasn’t too long before Ghost caught the sound of a voice and sure enough her dark eyes zoned in on a new scene. To one side was a familiar looking appaloosa whom the Czarina remembered meeting under similar circumstances before, Rei was it? The other was the source of the mystery that had initially led her here. A stallion who was slick black, like someone had covered him in oil and dripping from his tail was some sort of strange black liquid that the banshee quickly learnt as ink (courtesy of Rei). She had never been creative of mind enough to warrant a foray into such areas of life, why would a horse need to know how to write anyway? It sounded tedious, but maybe she was missing the point.

She quickly ruffled her wings and stored them into her sides, horned face turning from one to the other before finally she spoke. ”Does it not get annoying? Leaving pools of this ink, as you call it, wherever you go?” as ever the resourceful minded, after all, if it didn’t help then surely it was more of a curse than a gift?

”You have strange taste in fodder” it’s not everyday you get to meet a horse covered in ink chewing on bark in the middle of winter. The folk who came to these forests got weirder and weirder each time she came. Not that she could be one to judge.

[SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY D: life unexpectedly ate me after I posted this.]

I suppose I won't ever know what that little dark dragon from my mane was supposed to mean, because no followers of the Dragonheart arrive to stir it further, and so the line of memory flits away like a butterfly on a breeze. The great thing about memories though, you're always making them. The present is ever spinning itself into the past, moments drifting by like water in your mind, fluid and endless.

One comes now, riding on the hooves of a speckled girl. I hear her just before she calls out, her hooves making a smack smack against the ice as she walks loosely from her exercise. At once I scatter into a plethora of ink, spraying like a dark wave on the shore of the tree. I gather myself back up, painting my existence back into a wolf. I'm trying to be scary before I run off, but the snow had slowly bled me out and I'm sloppy with hunger. Soon enough my magic falls off me like a winter coat under summer, and I revert back to my solid, horse state.

I shudder as I look at her, my head high, but not with authority.
Then she does something peculiar.

She doesn't attack, which in itself is not strange. She doesn't tallk, but more than that, she draws.
I stare at her, dumbfounded, my mouth ajar - I know because I can feel the cold drying out my tongue.

I close my gaping maw, almost clipping my lip as my focus remains trained on the figures she carves into the snow. I walk closer, not even thinking, to better see them. They are different than my pieces or art, but it's art nonetheless and my chest buoys with a certain joy I've never experienced. I haven't met other artists before.

I think I love her.

Her voice draws my head towards her, black eyes searching her face as she speaks. I've completely relaxed now, which seems foolish given how jumpy I was prior, but my paranoia like many things about me, isn't easily explained. Although a certain sorrow edges into me when I hear her talk, realizing she is not exactly like me, I'm still elated.
I bob my head at her own excitement, drawn towards her cheerfulness, smiling as she explains her berry method. I use them for colors, when I want, but generally grayscale suits me.

Another presence draws near, unheard as I absorbed myself in the painted writer. The voice and the speech do little to soothe my flesh as it ripples with surprise. I shy to the side, my black tail flushing out behind me with a stroke of ink as I move. The black substance settles like a flat snake, seeping into the snow where it falls.

In comparison to Rei this mare does not seem kind and I am instantly more wary of her. That brings on a sharper side of myself, falling easily into the old routine of survival, where as Rei allowed me to melt into beauty.

I'm sure it's awkward by now, my lack of speech. It's been long enough that a normal horse would have said something. Enough statements and questions have been uttered that a normal horse would have responded with words. I'm not normal though, not by their standards. Still, I try to fit in when I can, to make it easier, so I at least follow the cadence of greetings and speak to them in what way I can.

I draw.

I step forward, my tail swerving behind me with a black stream. It turns it, builds it, pushes it out into the world and creates - what has Ghost's tail ever done?
From my brush my art, my mind, my heart flows out. I bring to them a tree, robust in leaves and above it, an orb, or rather it's outline, to be the sun. A lone figure draws from another well of ink, joining the scene. It's a horse. Me, or how I interpret myself, a shadowy, dark husk of a horse in its most basic shape. The sun sets however, and the tree's leaves fall until its skeleton is left. All the while my tail, my body is moving, each stroke expertly placed.

From the side of the skeleton the horse grows to be thin as well.
Bark is all that there is to offer in winter. I let my gaze rest heavily on the red winged mare, my drawing falling lifeless around me in a dismal spray. Without averting my eyes I reach around and once again chew on a tree trunk.

Maybe I'm starving and she's fat on herd life, but I'll be damned if that makes her better than me.

She watched the black ooze sink into the snow. Unlike the two artists, Ghost struggled to comprehend the beauty of it, all she saw was a strange looking black liquid dripping from an equally strange looking stallion who appeared to have dipped his entire being in the stuff. What was so great about drawing? Though the more she thought about it, the more she came up with ways it could be used, like leaving coded messages or simple directions. The whimsical and imaginative nature of it, however, the banshee failed to understand or appreciate and therefore stood like a lemon in a bunch of grapes with a baffled frown upon her face. The stranger began to draw once again and Ghost watched as the ink took the form of pictures, a tree, the sun, a figure. The season changes and the Cadaverous turns to look the artist in the face, her expression a picture of stone at first before a half smile forms and she shakes her head. Smart arse. He might not talk much, but he knew the condescending ways of sarcastic humour. At least, that was how Ghost took it as she shook her head and supressed a laugh.

”It was merely a comment, chew away” she replied, her breathy voice filled with mirth. At least he had character.

She turns to Rei then, the Throat hailing Pegasus whom she had met on so many occasions in the Threshold, their recruiting missions often crossing the same path. Ghost didn’t know her well enough to say friend or even ally, but of the few times they had met the mare had been pleasant and Ghost offered her a polite nod. ”Indeed we do” she greeted her back. The bubbly throat mare wasn’t done there, however, and promptly she wondered off to gather a smattering of berries to offer to the inky mute. Ghost watched her and wondered why she wasn’t capable of being such a perfect, selfless being. Maybe her claiming success rate would go up if she was less confronting and more Rei. Life goals, she’d found another one.

What is your name? Indeed draw us another picture clever painter! Ghost wondered what else she could contribute to the conversation after being thoroughly shut up earlier. Instead she cast her gaze downwards to look at the painting Rei had drawn and then to the ink sewn mockery. ”I don’t have either of your talents, so don’t expect pictures, but I’m Ghost of the Hidden Falls, do tell us your name?” She concurred with Rei in the end.

(@[Rei] all dis ink
Sorry for the wait too lol! )

It's an interesting thing, the taste of your own medicine. For all my lifetime, not that it has been an exceptionally long one, but even so I had yet to encounter another who drew. I had come across a mute a time or two, but most relied on exaggerated body language or a close friend. Either way I was still able to understand them in some fashion.

Yet as my gaze averted to Rei, brought there by her gentle touch that was a whisper across my skin, bark still tumbling around the insides of my mouth, I was perplexed as to what she was trying to communicate. My attention was definitely divided though, still attentive to where my nerves tingled in the absence of her muzzle. It had been a long time since I had felt anyone's kind touch. It should have startled me, but I was calmed, the moment brief, light, unassuming. Shaking my head I returned my full attention to her art.

For a moment I was concerned she was mocking me - I knew very well she could talk and yet here she was drawing pegasus. The thought dispersed as quickly as it came though; she seemed to kind for something like that. Then again I could hardly claim to know the mare, but her smiles felt to genuine, so I trusted in my judgement.

I took a step or two closer, ignoring Ghost for the time being as I tried to decipher the pictures. I understood the pegasus part quite clearly and figured it was her. What did the one joining the others mean though? Was it her family, her home? Was she going to get them, leaving me to go to them, or asking me to join them?

I glanced up, confusion written plainly on my facade, but she had already dashed off. So, she was leaving then. Nice of her to say as much, I supposed.

Slowly my gaze shifted towards the black and red mare, wary of her still, but comforted by the smile she had cracked before. We stood in awkward silence for a while, and in those quiet moments I wondered why she was here, why she stayed. Rei had been inviting, but Ghost didn't seem quite as enthusiastic about my skill, or conversation in general, be it words or ink. She seemed the loner type to me, socially estranged by years of solitary life, like myself. I should have found kinship in that, but I only felt an itching desire to return to it.

As I was preparing to tell her as much, Rei returned rather abruptly. Her presence surprised me, and quickly reminded me of her picture. If it didn't show her leaving after all, as was my first guess. Then, had she gone to get her family (or friends)? I glanced to the side, neck stretching out to look behind her as she deposited the berries, but I didn't notice anyone new. What then I wondered, annoyed at my own inability to comprehend my art form.

Vexed I tore at the offered berries, black tail flicking with a splash of ink. Half way through inhaling the little balls of crimson I realized she had shown herself leaving and returning to us. What's more, she brought these delicious gifts I was being rude about. Remembering my manners I lifted my head to proffer her a guilty smile. The red juice was cracked and smeared across my teeth, dribbling down my lips; I probably looked like a blood thirsty animal, if not for the awkward teenage horse attached to it.

I bobbed my head in turn to her explanation of the berries, thoroughly enjoying them. I'm not much of a wilderness man, so I made a habit of avoiding things that could be as easily poisonous as delicious.

Now came the hard part. My name.

Always with everyone wanting to name things. I can't deny them that need, even I feel it, though its faded with my inability to use it. I can't say I really even remember my own name any more, I've gotten so many nicknames over the years, which just seems to make actual names all that less important. If they didn't matter, not really, what was the point? Just words being diluted with emotions and memories.

I sighed heavily, purposefully, and rolled my shoulders in something like a shrug. In some half hearted attempt to explain I brought my tail around with a quick, wet slap. Ink sprung from its tips, spilling across the white canvas of winter in a useless pool. Ink was my name, but I wasn't even sure if that was my true name. I wasn't born this way, but near enough to name me after it, I suppose. I'd never know though, my parents long dead, their memories fading each year from my mind.

[Sorry continuing with lazy table and no new drawings ;-;]

In the end Ghost struggled to understand the conversation that was taking place. It was like one of those awkward moments when enthusiasts of a talent that she did not possess surrounded you, how could she create a conversation when she was stuck on the outside? Even the dour patience of the Cadaverous was beginning to wane under the pressure of not really knowing what was going on around her. She watched the two dance pictures and words around one another, the recruitment of this one was most likely lost to the artist from the Throat. She stifled a sigh and trained her gaze to the ground as the slick stallion took to creating his name on the floor. His tail slapped against the cold earth and Ghost frowned, trying to decipher something from it that might lead her to a calling. In the end, Rei spoke first with ’Ink’ and the sprite looked back at the dark stranger. Indeed, it was a fitting name.

It had taken this long to exchange simple greetings and Ghost grimaced at the dancing girl. These two were surely meant for one another and Ghost was just the gooseberry in the way of creativity, perhaps it was time she left the pair to gush over one another’s ability. No matter how hard or what angle she looked at it, she failed to fit in or understand the joy in creation, though she did see the merits of its usefulness. With a flick of her tail she schooled her expression and waited a moment for her frustration to die down before addressing them. There would be no advantage to losing her temper after all. "Forgive me if I offend, but I cannot linger, a leader should never stray for too long away from her flock" she sighed, not really caring much either way if she had offended, but there was no harm in faking sincerity, was there? There was, however, a genuine lament in her words at the end as she missed her adventures in the wilds and the missions she was often sent on.

Before she moved onwards and back to her herd, she paused as if giving something an after thought and glanced back to this Ink "if you’d like to chew on something a little better than bark and more like those berries, my land is by far the greenest. There may even be others like yourself and Rei who speak in drawings." She didn’t know, of course, if there were any.

With that, she ruffled her wings with the air of haste around her, the sooner she fled from here the sooner the awkwardness of her lack of artistic ability would slip away. She hoped.

[:T I totally forgot about this, I'm so sorry!!!]

[ONCE UPON A TIME I HAD A LIFE WHERE I COULD DRAW THINGS. WHERE DID THAT LIFE GO?!?! D: Ink I'm sorry I fail you so T_______T]

Her beauty is only paled by her vigor, which in turn was dwarfed by her intelligence. My gaze turned, faintly stunned and fully warmed, towards the speckled mare that called my name so easily. The way it slipped from her lips sent a quiver through my spine. Somewhere behind me my ink drew blossoming flowers; so akin to my heart.

This could even be considered a date, all things considered. We did eat after all... even if she "paid" for it.

Surely I would seem crazy then for allowing my attention to be drawn towards the equally black bodied mare as she prepared her departure. Manners it would seem, my glance little more than a silent farewell bidden to one of decent enough company, but then what of the step or two I took towards her receding back? Was it the unseen, un-smelled sensation of promised food that she proffered in her retreat? If not that, perhaps the allure of fellow artists, ones perhaps like the speckled girl at my hoof? How could that even prove tempting though, the hollow, invisible promises of faeries when when already stood next to me, whole and real and simply delightful?

It was true she had offered me a home, a place, something I was looking for even if I myself wasn't aware of it. Yet hadn't Rei offered me so much more, in her own ways? As if to answer this query my slender neck turned, flowing like a curtain as my nose swiveled back towards her. I watched her for a moment, as silent as ever, only an audible breath or two pressing from my body in that span of time.

I was torn. On the one hoof, a girl with whom I could share many things with apparent ease. We barely knew each other, yet I felt as if that didn't matter. On the other hoof though, the promise of food and art and shelter, all wrapped up in the challenging mystique of Ghost. I had been a spy in my last life for a reason, even if I didn't know as much yet, that part of me still a haze, but my mannerisms more or less unchanged. She was like the dragon queen I served in several ways, and she exuded the career path I had fit so well.

A path I was not so keen on walking down again, but one that called me all the same.

I turned my head back towards the space where she had stood. If I didn't choose soon I'd lose her, but more than that, the invitation would be gone as well, adrift on the wind of her passing. I hated to deny myself so cruelly - weren't there enough other horses who would do the same for me, need it really be myself? There was no mistaking it though, my heart was set even if it ripped apart.

I spared a glance at Rei, drifting towards her on quick, easy steps. Gently my nose reached out to bump her shoulder, a token of our kinship. As I moved, so too did my tail, its ink splashing against the snow and creating a burst of flowers that bloomed all around her, around us. I wanted us to bloom too.

I smiled, crooked and goofy, before pulling away from her with one last puff of air. With that, I turn and fled into the foods, sprinkling ink drops as I went like a wounded artist.

[GAH IM SORRY I JUST DON'T WANT 2 CHARS IN THROAT <3333 @[Rei] ]