Holiday Exchange :: Writing

the Rift

Holiday Exchange :: Writing :: Writing Stage

Agrona Posts: 115

Hidden Falls Tiro atk: 6 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4

Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: Seven HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE

Adoptable

#38

12-31-2013, 10:08 PM

The cool mist of night fog lingered over the swaying grasses, the white glow of the oversized moon casting eerie shadows of leafless trees across the earth. Silently, the shadow mare lays beneath a rough-barked tree, her dark face pressed against the trunk. Her head raced wildly, ears tipped backward as each thought seemed to become more and more heavy on her weary mind. Dark eyelids begin to drop over vibrant eyes, her dark nose slowly dipping down to rest against curled legs. The fog is thick and chilly, but the silent body does not twitch or shy away from the cold, instead she greets it, more memories of her past home flooding the gates of her dark mind.
Sleep washes over the Warmblood's body, allowing her to drift into a warm blanket of endless dreams.

A clear cut of incinerated trees, nothing live spurts from the ground, only seared branches and stumps, the occasional rickety top of a tree waiting to make some poor mare a widow. Her body feels heavy, as if someone had draped a thick cloak over her shoulders and vack. With careful steps, the black figure begins to search the remains of the apparent fire zone, amber eyes flitting around nervously. The thick clouds of smoke still linger and pollute the once crisp air, choking out small animals that try to hide in the near trees that had not been scorched. A tan hoof stomps down into a deep amount of water, catching her by surprise and causing her to wheel back some short distance. Massive appendages unfurl from the mare's side in turn of being startled, the weight that had once seemed to reside on her back now hanging awkwardly in the air.

She swings her cranium to the left, then to the right, bright eyes wide with disbelief. A repulsed snort erupts from her thin chest, the wings going limp and hanging at either side as if they had suddenly become broken. An anger boils in her guts, her heart pulsating hard against her rib cage, the once eerie silence of her surroundings is now replaced by the loud thrum of her heart. Panic, fear, and anger all twist and knot together in the confused female's lithe body. She darts forward, the white that paints the bottom of her long legs turning into a dark, spotty grey as ashes cake to her limbs.

The puddle that she had before stepped in has somehow developed into the hot springs that bubble happily in the Basin, small shoots of swamp grass and reeds poking out around the edges of the waters. Bright eyes are weary and frightened, the whites showing on either side of her soft yellow irises. Hooves splash loudly through the gruesomely hot water, each droplet that hits her hide stinging her dark skin. That's when it all stops; her feet, her lungs, her pulse, even the quiver of molested waters.. there, in the water, stares back a mare that looks exactly like Psyche herself... but without even a broken horn jutting from her skull. Instead, there is an empty space, just a white stripe cascading down her dark face, partially hidden beneath fuzzy forelock.

The wings unfurl from her sides once more, beating the steamy air multiple times without her control. The loud swish of air paddles through the air, bouncing between invisible walls and vibrating through her brain. Psyche is no longer Psyche, but she is what she had grown to hate, had destroyed so many of. Her very physical appearance revolted the mare. As if something snapped in her brain, she felt a pang of anger bolt through her body, her skull reacting by lurching back at her own right wing. A mouth full of feathers is departed from her body, blood trickling from the fine pores that dapple the skin beneath the horrendous appendages.

This goes on for what seems like hours, feathers being dropped into the hot water that now has no effect on the maiden's legs. Each black feather floats away with an imaginary current in the still pond, some being sucked beneath the surface and fed on by ravenous make-believe creatures. Blood begins to bead together and roll off of the half-bare limb before dropping into the dark pond. Tears stream from amber eyes, deep breaths inhaled sharply between sobs that are muffled by feathers.

They come one by one, various faces that have feared her, faces that have cherished her, faces that had followed her. They watch in silence, keeping their distance as if she were in a glass cage. Illynx stares at the shadow mare, her golden eyes furious and full of hate. One last scream erupts from her gaped mouth, teeth tainted in her very own blood, before she drops to her knees, legs buckling and bending beneath her until she lolls onto her side, her face propped perfectly from the water to keep breathing. This is when they come after her, like a hyena to the scraps of an antelope; their horns of all shapes and sizes glint in the darkness before she is engulfed by their hungry bodies.

Snapping out of the wicked nightmare, Psyche's skull pulls high enough into the air to make her front portion want to follow, her front legs shooting out as if she were to run. Heart beating at a ridiculous rate, she can feel her mane sticking to the side of her sweaty neck, as well as the dampness that seems to cover most of her body due to both the fog and her own perspiration. Nostrils flare and flutter, large to small, large to small, taking in as much oxygen as she can in order to gain control of her heart beat once more.

There is not a single life around her, no golden eyes glaring down at a winged body, not even the flap of an alien limb on either of her sides. No blood pools beside her body. She is Psyche as she knows herself.

[@[Psyche] sorry this took me so long to get up! Merry belated Christmas! <3]

[W/C | 1003]

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.