|
He walked with head low, inhaling the heavy scents of earth and pine that mushroomed up in little clouds with each hoof fall. No sounds tipped the dark ears from their neutral perch; no thoughts lit the dark ovals of his eyes. He waited, unquestioning and undemanding of his superiors. After all, he had no right to question, and they no need to explain.
His was not the position of decision making or even of open interpretation. He was an emissary, a deputy, chosen and tasked to perform in representation of another. He received orders and carried them out.. but he had failed. When presented with two ideal victims, half broken already, he had failed. He had let weakness into his mind: surprise, confusion, uncertainty. He had doubted.
Retribution would come. Already a low buzzing had begun in the back of his mind, a swelling of sensation. He had no control of the heat building beneath his skin or the way it twitched and began to darken with sweat. The pale, hairless patch across his right shoulder seemed to constrict, reminding him of the mark there. He did not know if it was a scar earned in triumph or in failure. He could not remember, but he feared the possibilities.
As he walked the buzzing grew in intensity. It expanded from between his ears and crowded out all other sensation. After a few minutes he could not smell the pines or soil, could not feel the ground beneath his hooves, could not see the trunks as they crowded closer and closer together. There was only the constant, terrible buzzing.
He felt suddenly overcome with claustrophobia. It was as if his hide had shrunk around his very frame, or his bones grown larger, forced apart as the buzzing grew and grew from within. There was a faint scent of burning. Burning leaves, but that couldn’t be right. He remembered a pine forest. Maybe it was his skin charring, pulled tight and seared through by the heat of the ceaseless buzzing.
He had no sense of time or direction in the burning, buzzing heat. He was disjointed, lost, transported to a world of endless pain. Flashes of light burst too close to his eyes, inside his eyes, and still the buzzing grew, expanded. There was nothing else.
Finally, something seemed to burst. There was a slow, silent release of pressure and the stallion began to come back to himself. He felt off balance, heavy. It wasn’t until he struggled to turn his head that he realized his position: sprawled on the floor of the forest. Embarrassment speared into his chest, but relief quickly soothed it. He was alive. He was forgiven.
Carefully, he stretched out each leg, turned each ear, shook out his choppy mane. Everything seemed to be in working order. With a deep grunt the roan shoved himself upright. Lethargy beaded and ran off of him like droplets of water as he took in his surroundings.
The air felt cool against his damp skin and smelled of moisture and growth. He turned in place, unfamiliar with the shaded grove around him. His body felt parched, dried out from the inside, so he quickly sought the small pool of water nestled in the roots of one trunk more massive than the rest. His lips had nearly touched the surface of the water when hundreds of glowing, crimson jewels winked up at him from below, each one reflecting tiny slivers of light that reached through the canopy of needles overhead.
OOC: Open to anyone. He's new in town, just left the threshold.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
