null and void [open]

the Rift

null and void [open]

Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459

Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5

Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE

Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan

09-06-2012, 07:40 PM

LACE

Who, in his mind,
has not probed the dark water?

The ocean was in an uproar. Dark, blue-black clouds hung low over the horizon and a strong wind whipped across the water, stirring up the waves and causing them to foam and thrash against each other. With a fury seldom seen they rushed towards the beach, built up tall and threatening before cascading down upon the pale sands as if they were trying to crawl all the way up to the grassy dunes. All along the coastlines the storm was brewing, thunder rumbling with a sound of thousand horses charging over a plain or a giants beating upon a mighty drum. Lightning upon lightning seared the air and struck the surface of the water, some far away into the distance and some so close that the skin tingled and the hair rose into the air from the static.

Screaming from excitement the white dragon tumbled in the strong wind, playing cat-and-mouse with the frothing waves that time and again were just about to swallow the little creature up before she rose higher and avoided them. It was a daredevil game, dangerous and breathtaking, but she enjoyed the thrill, the adrenaline that surged through her. The White was small but fearless, as lithe and swift in body as her mind was gentle and strong. Unbending and unbroken, as free as she had ever wanted to be. She wanted to share her love of the world she was living in, wanted to celebrate every breath she took and declare her passion to anyone around. The shrill sound of her voice was carried far along the beach, carried even further by the howling wind; but the only one there to listen to her joy was not paying attention.

He had closed her out. Usually the cheerful nature of his bonded helped the stallion but today he couldn't stand the brightness of her soul. It was blinding with its never fading light and it made him feel even darker, all the more corrupt and soiled. The weather suited him just fine. The black clouds matched the inky darkness that bathed his thoughts and the waves seemed to mimic the grim, aching restlessness that haunted him. Lace felt like pacing back and forth, scream and thrash and hurl himself along the endless beach until he could no longer run, until he fell down and couldn't get up any more. He wished to throw himself into the raging sea and fight with the waves, feel them tear at his body and experience the shock of a hundred lightnings through the liquid embrace.
But he couldn't move. His body was frozen in place between the earth and the sea while sand slowly devoured his legs. The hooves were long gone, sunk into the stirring ground and water splashed high up along his legs for each charge of the breakers. Head held high and with the white mane whipping like a luminous banner in the wind, the blue dun stared with empty eyes into the storm, unable to appreciate the spectacular beauty of the evening. Everything inside him screamed in agony, he was locked in a torrent of loathing and despair that never seemed to end. It dragged him down as steadily as the sand was swallowing his body, relentless in the grasp it held on him. One part of him wished to let go, to allow the void to consume him; another knew that it would be dangerous and clambered on to the only small shred of light he had left.

Lace had never had much. The bonds with his family had been fleeting and easily broken, and he never missed them. The herds he had joined had never really managed to gain his interest, and neither mare nor stallion had been able to awaken much passion within him. He held no interest in the pleasures of the flesh, held little patience for the philosophy of the elder and the wise, and never had he understood the charm of foals and youngsters. While experienced and capable of defending himself, he knew that he was not a brilliant warrior; rather a soldier, able to fill out the numbers and hold the back free for the more skilled, the more passionate ones. In everything he did he felt mediocre. The only thing he really had prided himself of had been his honesty, his untainted honor. Never as a youngster had he gone back on his word, never fled a battlefield or turned his back on someone that needed him. But that had been ruined, by none other than himself. The bitterness of that knowledge knew no ends, because even though he was no longer pure Lace knew with him that he would never be capable of flipping the coin completely - he could never become dishonest, cruel or cunning. He had too much conscience for that, too much goodness left within.

A long, heavy sigh tore from his lips and slipped away with the breeze. His eyes felt dry, the pain in his chest did not seem to want to path way for tears. His plea to the unfamiliar gods of the lands for a sign, anything that might tell him what to do, had been met with nothing but silence. It had left him empty, the last hope blown out like a candle; only darkness remained, and the small, warm dragon that refused to let him give in to oblivion.

"What will become of me?" he whispered desperately into the storm. "I wish..." But he didn't know what he wished for. He had no goals, nothing to strive for. Nothing to live for, save for the little White. Could he really cling to her as a sole reason for existing? It didn't feel fair to her. The vagabond longed for something, a goal, a purpose, something he could devote himself to and call his own. Something to be a part of... But he wasn't worthy. How could he ever be worthy of someones trust again?

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