the Rift


[OPEN] LIFELESS.

Ailith Posts: 47
Deceased
Mare :: Equine :: 15.0 HH :: 8
Adoptable
#1
 Dry lightning cracks across the skies
Those storm clouds gather in her eyes
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It had been some time since she had been able to call the Foothills her home and not resent the fact that her allegiances had been swayed. She hadn’t thought that it would be easy and maybe she enjoyed the pain it caused her- it was deserved after all. The tightening of her chest and the panic that rose from the depths of her dark heart were becoming feelings that were all too familiar. The light of her days had all but faded and now that she stood in the indefinite darkness, she couldn’t help but feel alone.

Dusk was slowly coating the skies in pinks and purples that offset the approach of Fall and while it was beautiful, the sight did nothing to lift the mare’s spirits. In fact, to look up to the heavens caused her so much hurt that it was quickly becoming her namesake. How long would she remain broken? She’d been handed purpose and yet still felt lost. The storm had passed and yet the thunder still echoed through the caverns of her desolate mind- had she done the right thing? Day after day she tried to justify her actions and day after day, no answers came. When would the suffering end?

It had felt like months since Ailith had been able to sleep peacefully through the night without visions of the invasion haunting her dreams. So many had moved on without her and while she looked on from the walls of her new prison, they thrived within theirs. Where had her confidence gone? Had it been buried with the dead hopes of the former Foothills? Maybe her grief would serve as a reminder that not all things were so easily avoided. She certainly couldn’t escape the battle unscathed and she imagined that for some time she would have to live with the consequences. She was clearly uninformed, clearly foreign, and clearly misled.

When Ailith had crossed over the dunes and into the outlying forest she was glad to shade herself in the shadows. It felt natural for her to hide there, lurking amongst the darkness that now swelled within her heart. She was whole when hidden away from prying eyes, at least until guilt consumed her and made her gasp for relief, for forgiveness. Perhaps that’s what had kept her up so many nights before… Perhaps she needed consolation. She was aware that many of her former friends and family had taken refuge in the Edge, but had they forgiven her for joining the forces of the enemy?

Quietly, the golden mare weaved through the low hanging limbs and floundered over unruly brush. She wasn’t sure where she was headed or where she would end up, but at that point she wasn’t really concerned anymore. She had once again given in to the pain that often shocked her nerves into submission until she was finally just… numb. She enjoyed the feel of it and furthermore relished the emotionless state of limbo that ensued. It was colorless grey that painted her world in tints of tarnished unrest and at times when it all became too much, she ran with it. She delved deep into her thoughts and turned back time until she was left reeling in the past far beyond Helovia itself.

Finally working her way into a clearing long past any of the Hills that she had come to know, she paused. The fresh scent of water lifted her face from the ground and she followed the earthy fragrance to its source. Alas, she had stumbled upon a small pool of eerily blue waters and as her reflection looked back at her, she could imagine the beauty she had once inhabited. However, now, all she saw was the liar she had become. She was quiet for a time before finally dipping her dark lips to drink from the still surface of the mysterious pool. Like her, it had been long forgotten and upon finding it, she felt refreshed and new. But how long would she be able to pretend that she was comfortable in this skin?

Could she ever find release? Or would she be lost forever in the eternity of her shame…

Image Credits

Lines by Tamme! Paddeh Coloring

Circe Posts: 101
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 5 Buff: NOVICE
M.E.
#2
Circe


There was no reason for Circe to stay outside of her own borders this late; there was no excuse to keep Circe from going home, no matter how hard she searched for one. Her day was done; the work was over. It was time for rest, no matter how heavy her heart sat in her chest. And so, the shadowmere forced herself to angle her body towards her home, her head held low for once, her breath heavy plumes of mists as she snorted.

She looked up briefly, into the whirl of color that was the evening sky, and gave a bitter chuckle in spite of herself. The land was beautiful, in its own way; it was elegant and bewitching, no matter the season. The docile, dying light did not deserve the scorn she gave it; the verdant lands she called home gave her shelter and safety from the shadows that prowled Helovia. They were battled-for and valuable in their own right. It was not the land’s fault that Circe associated those hills and skies with bitter loss and hopeless rage, and yet it was so, and the shadowmere grew increasingly desolate with every step she made towards her home.

Her heart rattled as she walked, pounding with a familiar ache that refused to die with time; Circe walked slower so that the pain wouldn’t overwhelm her. The shadowmere constantly came so close to tears these days; she swallowed the prickling in her throat, willing her resolve to strengthen itself before she properly entered the territory. It destroyed her for others to see the anguish she felt, and so Circe hid it; she strove to lock away the hurt and put a fresh face on for her comrades—they must not see her broken.

It was the scent of another that managed to distract Circe enough to escape her gloom of depression briefly. The aroma was faintly familiar; it scratched at the back of Circe’s memory in an insistent way—she should know this scent. Almost subconsciously, Circe found herself angled toward the scent, supposedly to discover the identity of its owner. It wasn’t long before Circe stumbled upon an unfrozen pond of vibrant azure water. The brown mare who stood there already sparked even more recognition from Circe—the impression of some long lost joke wafted in her mind—but it wasn’t until Circe glanced into the magenta eyes of the lady that she was finally able to place a name upon her partner in arms.

“….Ailith,” Circe stated quietly, her subdued voice filled with acknowledgement. She dipped her head, tentatively reaching with her lips for the water as well, her movements filled with caution. The memory of their last meeting was starting to flood within her mind—and Circe recalled it had not been an amicable one.








Ailith Posts: 47
Deceased
Mare :: Equine :: 15.0 HH :: 8
Adoptable
#3
 Dry lightning cracks across the skies
Those storm clouds gather in her eyes
</style>

Her voice is harsh upon soft ears and something about the way she says it makes Ailith refrain from turning to look upon her. Circe. A Grey native, her family, whatever she might be in this setting does not make Ailith any more susceptible to her greeting. Perhaps she is thick-headed or stubborn but she cannot face the other girl with a smile plastered upon false lips. She cannot lie when the truth is so close to her heart… But she does believe in allowing her formality and so she turns her quiet face to her companion and nods solemnly. It is a halfhearted greeting on any account and the buckskin mare does nothing more to make her guest feel welcome. Instead she continues to peer into the porcelain reflection of her fate, pretend that things had gone differently in her life… pretend there was reason behind her cause now that she stood so close to the brink of realization.

For a time, Ailith stands facing the pool with her head low and her shoulders dropped. She is defeated. Whatever resemblance of her former courage and determination had all but disappeared and she is weak with the reminder of her submission. Tentatively, she backs away to turn lightly on her heel, coming face to face with her captor. In all reality, she is not caged or imprisoned, but her heart insists that she is just as much an outsider to these lands as those that left the day of the invasion. “Circe.” The word is a bare whisper upon her tongue and she is tired and lost and perhaps just a skeleton to the girl she once was. But she is alive…

Or is she?

There is nothing to suggest that the ghost not standing before such a strong mercenary had ever been filled with light and laughter. But then again, was there ever a moment in her life that was not filled with the melancholy of disaster? “Why are you here?” Her eyes are suddenly ravenous, hungry for explanation and for the truth that was so dutifully hidden from her in their last meeting. She demanded respect and she would see to it that it was rightfully given.

But of course, what Ailith couldn’t understand was that respect was earned, not granted.

The cold breeze of winter seemed to consume the two mares, disconnecting them from the present as they spoke with one another. It was a hauntingly beautiful sight to see but only the great creators would be able to recognize such abysmal attraction. However, behind closed doors, Ailith decided that for once she would let fate decide her path, even if that meant sacrificing her pride for the bridging of two worlds.

Image Credits

Lines by Tamme! Paddeh Coloring


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