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I forced myself to leave, to go beyond the borders of the Throat and into the world I'd run from, that I'd feared. I'd been avoiding leaving because I am afraid, I fear that I will find Aurelia and the gods know I cannot handle such a fateful disaster, because my brittle heart has not yet recovered. So with help from Yseult (a stream of encouragement, what would I do without you? Probably waste away, you are very lazy and blue.) Shahrokh pursues me, refusing to let me walk away from him, his velcro personality bringing me mixed feelings. I am his mother, I should feel the need to take care of him, to show (that really isn't the appropriate world for this. To explore with him? Perhaps.) him the world outside of the Throat, bring him up to be kind and patient and gentle. I should be loving him, not ignoring him for being a bastard child (No father to begin with, right. Motherless? Still one mother, start with two. We'll call him a bastard child for now,) who bears gold like his irresponsible mother, he is a grim reminder that I lied blatantly to the Earth God, proved my own foolishness and ignored his warnings. Warnings that I should've heeded, shouldn't have cast aside because I was running through the world with rose coloured lenses.
I made a mistake, a terrible one but that doesn't mean Shahrokh deserves to get crushed under my self-loathing, he doesn't know why fury and hatred burn in my being for him, for his existence. He is unknowingly the physical entity of a promise, a sacred promise whispered within silent walls and under dirtied sheets, beside a sweaty companion. I can't imagine the strain I've put on him, that this situation has put on him. To know you have been born with another half, a permanent friend bound by blood, flesh and bone, only to have it ripped from your side.
I've decided to take us to the Threshold, gaze lowered as I guide Shahrokh through the trees, my wings clenched tightly against my sides as I trudge along. I haven't been here in a long time, if at all. Perhaps I should frequent it more, start carrying my weight within our herd. It's quiet, the occasional rustle of dead leaves the only sound for miles, our breathing accompanying the silence. Everything seems still and bitter, like the world is in a phase of free falling, breaking from the grasp of spring and beginning its descent into a frigid frostfall. I hear footsteps beyond ours, Shahrokh's face hitting my hind as I halt, a surprised gasp stuttering from his lips as he stumbles (Boy reckless. Yes, I know. Need to know where going.)
Gold.
I rush forward with desperation, tripping and panting as excitement and fear and an all consuming anger grips me tightly. Shahrokh tries to keep up, elegantly long legs trudging after me in desperation as I work my way through the trees, eyes wide. (Aurelia? It's her! I know it is! What if not? It is!) My heart is pounding as I focus on the place where I'd spotted it, that familiar colour that brings so many mixed emotions to my plate, piling them up and pushing it in my direction like I was supposed to handle all of them. "Aurelia!" I cry, tears welling and a smile crawling across my face. I wanted to touch her again, to beg to know where she'd been and then kick her for being such an inconsiderate shit and leaving me alone. My hatred and rage towards her disappear at the prospect of seeing her again, proving that this hate wasn't rooted into me with its nails deep in my flesh, that it was just a fly clinging desperately to me.
I come to a brutal stop, trying to catch my breath and looking up, eyes widening when I see what's before me. It isn't Aur, (Told you.) no, it's someone who just so happens to bear similar golden, alabaster tresses falling over hauntingly familiar features. I can't muster anything out, swallowing the knot in my throat and letting my expression drop. Shahrokh nudges me, his laboured breathing concerning. There's a little roan beside the girl, energetic and full of life, exactly how a foal should be (Why isn't Shahrokh like this? Disabled, no fun when he can not see.) This boy is roughly the same age, much more sociable and already he is wildly different from Shahrokh. Shahrokh was quiet, melancholic and firmly rooted to the corner, hidden and introverted. His inability to see seems like a barrier to him, something to keep him from being a member of society in the way I or this boy was. (I think I heard him say he was Murtagh?
"Ah—" I hesitantly open my mouth, clearing my throat and searching for something to say to the duo. "Hello." "Who is it?" I look back at Shahrokh, watching him drag his nose along the length of my body and tucked wing as he settles beside my shoulder with his cheek pressed against me. He looked concerned and frustrated, perhaps because he did not know if there was actually someone there, or how many bodies there were before us. I look at the two, hoping they would introduce themselves to us or merely leave us out in the dark.
"blah blah blah." "shah goes blah blah blah."
ooc: casually decides to crash C":
word count: 904 aka almost a light novel ahhha
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