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04-04-2014, 09:39 PM
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It had been one stop of supposedly many, but something about this place had utterly devoured her and she let it. It was a great leviathan rearing up from the earth to snatch her from the sky with its fleshy maw filled with the lure of promise, under the pretense of rest, but once its serrated teeth sunk into her soul, it held on fast with an iron grip and she was helpless to its whims like a seafarer pulled from shore in a rip current. A rag doll toy. But she wasn't lost and she wasn't dying; it was carrying her out into vast opportunity, the island of her future outlined in the distance. It was undoubtedly gorgeous and teaming with vibrant life, that she was sure of, even having witnessed only a minuscule amount of what was offered. In due time she would know this land as her very own. But that wasn't just it. There existed beneath the surface a vibrating spirit that sang to her own as a piece of the whole. A siren's call placed around a net that captured this little dove, preordained. Sometimes she would swear that she could see hear the beating heart of the world, if she stopped and listened. Even as she vowed to never be tied down, she had watched herself follow a virtual stranger as if it were some bizarre out of body experience. The abbess at the monastery that took her shamed mother in would have had an aneurysm --the thought makes her smile prettily, even as a shock of remorse unfurls somewhere deep inside of her-- and her mother, well, her beautiful and strange and quiet mother probably wouldn't have reacted much at all. Maybe smirk in that detached, sublime way of hers that made even the lithe Saphiron feel clumsy and adolescent. Something stings in her eyes. Both of her eyes. She squints, blinking rapidly, realizing too late that they are gentle tears that now slide down her cheeks. She misses her mother more than anything, the pain of it so raw and real, but they didn't get along. Never have. Although she never overtly hurt her daughter, she was disinterested. Too kind to be hateful, but still that shadow of resentment was there, somewhere, and sometimes it would darken those starry-dawn eyes in ways Saphiron did not fully understand and perhaps never would. Or she hoped. Her mother was suffering quietly, trapped in an invisible prison, a reminder of her damnation there with her always, a mockery made of her own flesh and blood -- up until recently. They shared their own respective brands of guilt, even after having parted. But here felt like what she thought others meant when they talked of home. She could not compare it to anything, the experience so unfamiliar. It made her chest tighten and flood with heat, engorged on pride and joy. She felt like sporting a foolish grin for no particular reason, little things triggering it. A bright sun to a black hole of a past, warming away her sorrow with a crescendo of relief, the suffering shed away, replacing it with serenity by reality of here and now. Such sheer contentment, one fulfilled and yet eager, puts a small hop in her step now whereas before it dragged and the pale cherry of her thick unruly hair bounces with the motion, turning lustrous in the fading daylight. This is what being in love must be like. Deciding to give herself a rest, for once, in preparation for future exploring, hugging those clean cut knife-sleek wings to her lean side, the henna hued mare strolls along a wide game path that weaves its way around the mammoth oak and fir. A loon begins to cry in the distance, its haunting song hanging over the lake as if trapped in the thin film of mist, heralding dusk just as it descends upon the forest grove with a certainty as old as death. She pushes through the bush upon hearing the lonely birds begin to sing, with skillful upholding of her own silence, and onto the strip of sand that surrounds the dark waters. She hesitates with her interest in checking out the temperature, one slight hoof dangling above the hyaline surface while her tail swishes idly. |
[ooc- Ignore the length, it was from two different days of writing.]
