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Origami heart - Erthë - 12-26-2015 She took a detour on her way back from the Throat. The conversation with Badger had left her with plenty to think about and somehow it was easier to do that away from the rest of the herd. The sky seemed taller down here for one thing, the horizon so much vaster and further away. Not even on a normal day was she a very big horse, but on these wide stretching expanses Erthë felt even smaller than usual, lesser and at the same time more aligned with her place in the scheme of things. Problems that had seemed insurmountable as she trekked the winding paths of the World's Edge shrank alongside her, because suddenly simple and a bit silly when compared to the wild, boundlessness of the world. Flying low over the muddy, waterlogged flats the filly dragged her feet over the tips of yellowed grasses, felt the rough straw whisper against her hooves and though of nothing, everything. Sharing her issues and problems with someone had been beyond nice - she felt so much lighter and happier now, as though a great weight had been taken off her shoulders. While her uncle might not be any better at solving them than she was, she had at least told someone, shared the load and it made her feel so good that the girl wondered why she hadn't done it earlier. Gliding on the chilly autumn winds she came upon the steaming, burning chasm of the Heart. She made to turn and fly around the thick plume of ash and smog as usual, but something on the charred, dry ground around the pit caught her eye. Curious, the little snowdrop banked and touched down on the ashen slope with the kind of soft, simple elegance that grew from long practice and painful mistakes, gingerly shifted her weight back onto smarting legs and folded the wings against her sides. Keeping her head low the filly limped slowly across the plain until she came upon the thing that had caught her eye; a large chunk of rock, thrown no doubt from the churning pit on her right. For the most part there was nothing extraordinary about it; gray, lumpy and too big to move. But as she walked around it, the pale sunlight struck at an angle and with a gasp of delight Erthë found herself nearly blinded by a vibrant display of color. Facet after facet of ice-like crystals cut deep into the center of the stone and reflected the light, broke it and scattered it around in a multitude of tiny rainbows. This was what had caught her eye and for the longest time the filly just stood there, marveling at the sheer beauty of this small, ordinary miracle. Erthë the night is calling my name @Majua @Mesec RE: Origami heart - Mauja - 12-27-2015 but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams Fearing fire, it came naturally to him to stay away from Helovia's churning, burning heart. It was one of the places he not exactly avoided, but seldom came to—and why, he couldn't quite say. It was a beautiful place, the maw of the world belching flame, such a beacon on dark nights, a place of warmth, magnificence, danger. Only twice could he remember standing upon its rim. Twice, of the countless times he had passed it by, and both times had been.. strange. The first time, his raven feathers had fallen to burn. The second time, he'd grown.. angry, out of his mind, attacking the mare Megaera long before her rise to fame and fortune in the Throat.
So, quite naturally, he avoided standing upon the Heart's rim and peering into its depth. It led to madness and vulnerability; ever watchful, ever cautious ( Frankly, he didn't want to end at all. He didn't want to be hurt at all. So he locked himself away and skulked about his emotional basement, terrified of the debris he'd left there, and of his own shadow. It glared at him from every corner, from every sealed jar and locked door—doors which glowed around their frames, as whatever he had accidentally sealed away struggled to breathe, to live, to get out. And, with his heart pounding in the back of his throat, he backed away, fled into the darkness of the corridors, until he found some new curiosity within himself to be afraid of. (Was it the beginning of the end? The fact that fear had broken free, and haunted him, day and night?) Its prison glared empty and dark, the road to it forgotten. Maybe he had never stood before it and watched it. Maybe, he didn't know how to find it. He had always been afraid—of everything. Of failure. Of recognition. Of pride, and love. Of greed, and envy, selfishness. Death. Life. He was a brittle, dry leaf trembling in the wind. And if only his eyes dared to speak of all its secrets— But they didn't, and so, the ghost that haunted Helovia remained a pale mystery, all soft smiles and soft eyes locked away in his own snow globe. Left to his own devices he existed in a kind of equilibrium, suspended between the comfortable numbness of his deadened emotions, and the tug of their existence—and he remained oddly functional, oddly kind, oddly at peace with things. Until you rattled the globe, that is. Until something saw fit to remind him of the half-life he lived, how cruel it was, how dangerous, how selfish. And the blizzard would rage all around him until the snow settled, and when the snow settled, he was back to what he was—detached, but gentle. Lately, it had been storming more than ever. It was just a breath away, just a thought away, and his heart would start quivering and mind screeching and nothing would make sense and, and— He ran from the storms in his head. It was the only thing he had ever taught himself to do. Run, and distance will pacify them. He had been raised a warrior, to stand fast in the face of their enemy, to think before charging but when committing, to commit wholeheartedly. No regrets. No fear. No doubt. (Doubt kills.) But their enemies had been tangible, flesh and blood—emotions.. emotions were a different thing altogether. And somewhere, at the start of his life, he had gotten it into his head that emotions were a liability, a weakness. Or maybe that was just after Isir died. A white streak fell from the sky, a falling star touching down next to the roaring flames, and Mauja squinted against its shape. Small, fragile, white—the complete opposite of the one whose name rang like a mournful bell through his memory. It was Erthë, and what was it she had said last they met? Or rather, shouted after him as he fled from his memories and feelings. That he was weak. (Somewhat out of context but the mind that thrives on torture likes to twist things to its own ends.) It had fired an irrational spark of anger in him; somewhere along the road he'd picked up on the notion that emotions were supposed to make you human, but more and more it seemed it only applied to some of them. And how the fuck was he supposed to distinguish between them? Bitter, angry, he stalked nearer to the white princess (gods, everyone seemed to love her, but Mauja couldn't for the life of him understand why, she was just an annoying brat—), totally oblivious to whatever object eclipsed her attention so. How come you were supposed to love in the face of fucking everything, and that was good and right, but when your love said you'd do them more good away from them, it wasn't alright to have doubts? When all he wanted was to protect her from pain, and it tore his heart out to feel like she was better off without him—that he should leave her life and never come back—it was .. wrong, somehow. It made his teeth itch for pale, cold porcelain skin between them, to grab hold of that young body and toss it like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf— With his dark maw half-open, eyes blazing and ears flat, the beginning of a snarl on his face, he stopped. Wordlessly. This was were emotion failed him. This was were emotion let him down. Blinded him. Clouded him. It stole the purity and the honesty from him—it stole the man who had regarded the world with simple curiosity, who had asked questions for truth without judging, who had almost religiously refused to pass judgment on anything without having the whole story... It stole him, and replaced him with a beast that made even his executioner days seem benign and merciful. Maybe he had been truer to himself, back in the Plague days. "Erthë," he finally said, the anger washed away, leaving him hollow, worn. He felt like a husk. An empty vessel. His head had fallen low from its icy heights, and his eyes had lost their usual clarity. Slowly, he turned his head away, to stare towards the distant midday horizon. He didn't know who he was anymore. Mauja
the white queen RE: Origami heart - Mesec - 12-28-2015 RE: Origami heart - Erthë - 01-14-2016 The filly wasn't so distracted that the sound of approaching footsteps didn't reach her. She heard the rustling of grass and soft thud of big feet against black sand perfectly well, and looked up and about well before the white stallion had reached her. The sight of Mauja coming towards her made her smile falter and die out, the glittering stones forgotten in the face of his less than warm expression. She tensed, wings shifting uncertainly - he looked angry, like he was about to scream at her again or something even worse. Not that she could blame him. Their last encounter hadn't ended well. Erthë regretted nothing of what she had shouted after him, but in hindsight it would probably have been better to stay quiet, say nothing. A wiser horse probably would have been able to swallow down annoyance and anger, but she was neither wise nor patient enough to coddle adults or dote around with feelings, as she saw it. Still. If he was going to shout at her, she would really prefer if he just got it over with so they could leave this awkward tension behind. If he wanted apologies or such Erthë would give them, if he wanted to stay pissed it wouldn't bother her overly much. She didn't hold grudges, and though they lived in the same herd it wasn't as though they were close, or even friendly. She could live with his anger, hatred or resentment - but it would be more comfortable if he let it out. But no. Not today, apparently. Beneath her wary gaze his expression changed, smoothed out like ripples fading from the surface of a pond. Before long she saw only marble skin and stony nothingness, as though he had transformed into a living breathing statue. Even his voice was laconic and dead as he said her name, and the girl shuddered at the sound of it - because though nothing of his mannerism suggested it anymore, she had this feeling that it would have been better if he had snarled and spat. Healthier, for everyone. She sighed, and forced a smile back onto her face. "Hi Mauja. You look... uh... " Before she managed to find a word to accurately describe the icy, dead-eyed stallion however, her attention was drawn off as a dark figure grew larger in the periphery of her vision. Descending on midnight wings was a big black stallion, cloaked and crowned and horribly familiar. Word and breath lodged somewhere in her throat and left her breathless as he landed and came walking towards them, smiling and greeting Mauja like they were old friends. And maybe they were, she wouldn't know, but she knew who he was and it didn't make her happy at all. Not that she had a problem with his parentage - far from it, he was the Moon's son and she loved the Lady Moon - so it was more the matter of the manner of their last encounter, and the fact that as his pale, glowing eyes turned and fixed on her something like panic rose in her throat, searing and burning like bile and fear and hot, searing anger that didn't go well at all with her cold physique. Mesec smiled at her, but Erthë only made a half choked sound and stumbled, hobbled, fled in behind Mauja. It was strange indeed how the intimidating unicorn suddenly seemed so much safer and friendlier now, compared to the wolf shifting bastard who had tried to kill her and didn't even seem to be sorry about it. He asked for her name but she didn't answer; instead she reached in beneath a ruffle feathered wing and grasped the ivory bow that hid there, prepared to defend herself should it prove necessary. "Schday awae fom me, woulphe!" she slobbered, nearly unintelligible around the handle of the weapon - though there was no mistaking the ferocity of her voice nor the seriousness of her warning as she glowered at the demi-god from around the Frostlight's haunches. Erthë the night is calling my name @Mauja @Mesec RE: Origami heart - Mauja - 01-18-2016 but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams They were ice, both of them—haughty and frigid, trapped behind the pale cold of their gazes (—hearts). She regarded him with a kind of grown-up wariness, and how could he blame her for that? He was a feral creature, a beast off his leash, eyes promising fell deeds until—
Until there was only cold ashes left in the furnace of his rage, a profound sigh blowing chilly air through empty stone halls. He didn't even know what he had been ready to do to her. Shout? Bite? Bully her to the rim of the Heart and throw her into it, knowing she could fly out of it? What had she done to deserve his anger, anyway? She had been an insensitive, callous little bitch but how did that justify attacking her in any sense? Nothing justified anything, and it was doubtful Mauja would ever do anything ever again. When rationality and logic won, passion died. "Hi Mauja. You look... uh... " Yeah, what? Terrible? Angry? Stupid? He doubted she was happy to see him—nothing in her manner said she was, she was just, neutral, despite the little smile bending her lips. (He wondered if anything could ever bend her stiff knees and neck. If she could ever bow, or if the ice along her spine prevented such a movement.) Still, he snorted, something smile-like ghosting across his face. "Conflicted?" he offered her, a thread of bitter amusement coiling around his light voice. He could've offered her a thousand different adjectives, stupid and mean, awful... None of them good, because truly, what was good about him? He was a lost, shattered creature, one moment frigid, and the next, a wounded, angry beast. If he had once been as steadfast as glaciers and mountains, he had grown unpredictable, volatile, sea and storm. But they got no further, because whatever had kept her from finding her words made itself known to Mauja too—his head turned, to follow her gaze, finding nothing but Mesec coming down to greet them. And seeing him— Gods, it broke his heart all over again— Aviya had been his sister; d'Artagnan had been his father. He had been abandoned, just like Mauja had, but where the Queen had fallen, Mesec had.. had done what? Melted away into the shadows, to find comfort stars knew where. But for all the wolves tearing at Mauja's heart, he looked so peaceful, somehow, so content, moving with ease in a body he had once seemed out of place in. He had lost his father, but perhaps he was stronger than Mauja ever had been, for he still stood whole. "Mesec," he said warmly, smiling to the dark stallion. It was strange to think how small he had once been, and how small he was not now, but—all of that ceased to matter when Erthë moved again. To the soft sound of Mesec's voice the child practically fled, gracelessly shuffling in behind Mauja, and—reached for her bow. "Schday awae fom me, woulphe!" Wolf? Wolf? What wolf? It was just Mesec there, just a fucking horse (he remembers that giant wolf standing on top of him in the Deep Forest, wolf-forest)—there were no wolves around. "Erthë?" he said, the mild concern and uncharacteristic shock; his neck bent to peer at the girl, knowing better than to try and rob her of her shelter. "What are you doing? It's just Mesec." There's no need to be afraid. But the words died in his throat. There was always a need to be afraid. [ @Mesec @Erthë ] Mauja
the white queen RE: Origami heart - Mesec - 01-24-2016 |