she's a bit of a fixer-upper [healing]

[OPEN] she's a bit of a fixer-upper [healing]

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380

Deceased

Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE

RayoDeSoleil

02-15-2014, 09:16 PM

You were born to the darkness, and to the darkness you shall return. Somewhere, a distant memory brings a recollection of anger and hatred and sorrow. And then there is nothing - nothing but a fleeting glimpse of truth, of compassion, at the hands of a stallion unknown to you. A mystery, a seemingly long-ago tale that could almost be a dream, for it is so different than what you remember as your most beautiful self. Who could fall so far, you wonder; who could stumble from their pedestal and crash so terribly to the ground? Oh, how hard you remember working, clawing your way to the top of the mountain - and oh, how easy it was for it all to come cascading down around you. Your sanity, locked away and hidden deep within the craggy recesses of your mind, found your fall cleansing, healing - but you see only weakness, a chink in the armor through which the light threatens to break. You are determined to see it mended, shutting out that which threatened to overtake you that day in the swamp, before the darkness claimed your mind.

You watch her approach and you are reminded of days past, when she walked willingly under your banner. She was not one of your trusted, that is true, but she followed you all the same, and you find that you have a hesitant liking for this mare. Of course, that only means that you desire her heart to blacken and shrivel, that you long for her to abandon the light and join you on the other side. Think of all that you could do, with an army at your back! You are beautiful now, freed from the confines of the body that had held you captive. It is almost as though your corruption has freed you, has released that which you held so close, afraid to let go. She is not afraid of you, and a slight hiss escapes your lips as you see only dismay on her pretty features. Your fate is not a cause for sadness - no, she should be leaping for joy, falling over her own feet to join you! A low snarl builds in your throat and you want to taunt her, to screech something, anything to bring her into your grasp, but you find that you have nothing to say.

She calls to you, and you will later remember that voice as filled with sorrow, broken, as though the sight of you (or, perhaps, the sight of any in your condition) is too much to bear. And then, she sings. You back away, your auds flattening against your nape, your exposed skull thrown to the heavens, begging them not to release you from this plague. But the chords of her voice wash over you, and suddenly you find that it is not so easy to run away. There is something painfully pure about her vocals, and as you listen you become aware of bones hardening, recovering from decay; flesh regrowing, reattaching to your bones; skin knitting back together, covering recently exposed tissue; and you scream, the sensations excruciatingly overwhelming. The world goes dark, or light, you don't really know anymore, and suddenly there is nothing. You are falling away, up or down or something, but you cannot be alive, not after that.

Her eyes opened, and she was surprised to find herself on the ground. The infamous amber gaze is weak as she looks up at her rescuer, and she doesn't know if she should thank the fae or curse her. She is ashamed to find herself at Lena's mercy, terrified to find herself so close to that from which she had fled, and suddenly she is overwhelmed by the urge to run away. But if she were to do that, who is to say she would ever make it back? The pain of her transformation is fresh in her mind, and she shudders at the thought of having to go through it again. The memory of the darkness that seeped into her very pores drives her to her feet, and she is humiliated to find that she is shaking. Who would have thought that trying to do the right thing would have brought her here? She had left, had tried to live a normal life, had tried to be kind to those she had previously hated, and all for what? To end up at the hooves of her followers, most of whom would likely ask her where she had been and why she had abandoned them?

Would they kill her if she told them the truth?

Did she care?

Yes, a small part of her mind whispered, and she was surprised to find that the intricately adorned stallion from the Marsh had found his way into her thoughts, had bolstered her spirits. She didn't even know his name. This was a sudden realization, and she frowned at the memory - but the nameless steed's appearance in her mind calmed her, and she swallowed hard. The quaking of her bodice stopped, and she took a deep breath. "Thank you," she whispered, more distraught with how incredibly cowed she sounded than with the actual ordeal that she had lived through. If anything, she had deserved to be taken by the darkness, had deserved the misery of being put back together. But now what was she to do? Who was she to go to? She couldn't go home - there wasn't even a home to go to. "Where... are we?"

[W/C | ---]

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