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05-04-2016, 11:50 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-04-2016, 11:54 PM by Persephone.
Edit Reason: Added OOC note about being released by Archi.
)
this old world has brought me pain
but there's hope for me again
but there's hope for me again
The sunset mare returns to the familiarity of the Halcyon Flats, remembering her arrival to the land of Helovia through the Rift. She remembers how afraid she had been to leave the salty waters and barren landscape. At least here, she could see when a stranger approached - everywhere else she had visited, however briefly, had left her feeling jumpy and claustrophobic. There is something mildly comforting about the sand and the water, something that calms her rapidly beating heart. It has been days since she has been truly calm - since before the great Archibald found and claimed her invited her to the Hidden Falls. The name of the stallion's home had offered some small comfort, for she remembered vaguely that it was where the kindly Agnodice had hailed from. In any case, she is looking forward to having a place to call home. Even if one of its leaders terrifies her.
So caught up in her past and in her future is she that she fails to realize that shadows linger where they ought not exist. It is not until she wanders into a faint darkness and begins to fall into the grasp of her deepest memories that a panic seizes her, but by then, it is far too late.
"My darling," her father's voice breaks the silence that reigned over the sunset girl's solar. "You look so sad, my sweet."
Her gaze falls upon her father, tall and strong; a smile bubbles to her lips. "I'm sorry, Father," she says sheepishly. "It's just... Mother." She doesn't have to say more: her father smiles, understanding in the deep lines of his face. He knows that the sunset girl's mother is difficult to deal with, at best; Persephone is forever a disappointment to her, for one reason or another. Her father, though, is always there to comfort the girl when Mother is on a rampage. She loves him dearly for it.
"Ah, my dear," he says with a sad sigh, "your mother loves you very much. She wants the best for you, even if she doesn't always show it the way you'd prefer."
The girl nods, looking away. Her father's words are wise, but she cannot help but doubt them in her all-knowing youth. To her, it seems that Mother wants to mold her into something that she can never be. Despite her best efforts, she cannot seem to please the older mare.
"But I have an idea, my darling," Father proclaims suddenly, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. Persephone looks to him hopefully, wanting desperately for him to accompany her to the market or to the forest, anywhere to get away from the court for a while. "I've a project that I've been working on, and I think you might be able to help me with it." It is not the escape that she had wished for, but she grasps it desperately nonetheless.
"Of course, Father," she agrees automatically.
They descend into the stallion's workshop: it is a dark, dank place more akin to a dungeon than the laboratory it is meant to be. Torches flicker angrily on the walls, casting long shadows that make the sunset girl's heart flutter with nerves. She notices that a hallway diverts from the main room. It is lined with bars, and she wonders with the first hints of fear what her father keeps caged. He would never harm me, she tells herself, though a small voice in the back of her mind flares in warning all the same.
When they halt in the middle of the room, her father tells her to wait and disappears down the hall of bars. A strange, red marking is drawn on the floor before her, thought she can't quite make out what it means. The fear is stronger now, making the girl nauseous. Still she does not believe that her father means her harm.
A shuffling sound emerges from the hall. Soon, a sickly colt stands before her, watching her with dull eyes. His ribs and spine stand out starkly against his malnourished skin, and he is covered in mud and feces. Her nose wrinkles in spite of herself at the smell, and her eyes widen in disgust and fear. Horror immobilizes her.
"F-father --" she manages to squeak, but the stallion is already moving.
He rises on strong hind legs, lashes out with one precise strike at the boy's poll, and then the colt is crumpled on the floor and she is screaming, tears streaming down her cheeks as she backs away from the man she had loved so dearly. Now all she can see is a monster, and she wonders how she has never seen it before. She wants to run, but her father has moved to block the door; no doubt he would catch her if she tried to flee, anyway. Her screams die down to gasping whimpers, and she cowers in a corner as her father walks nonchalantly toward her.
There is the smallest stain of blood on his hoof, a splatter so insignificant that it is a wonder that the strike that caused it was a killing one.
"Raise him," her father commanded, any affection for his daughter replaced by greed. The sunset girls stares at him, uncomprehending. "Raise him," he says again, his voice harder now, demanding and threatening.
"B-but -- but Father, I --"
"Raise. Him."
And so the first of her father's army was born.
Persephone gasps, stumbling backwards, almost falling over herself in her haste to get away. Distress is written on her pretty face; tears fall in heaving sobs. Trembling overtakes her body. It had been so real, real in a way that she never allowed her memories of home, her memories of him, to be; she is terrified, horrified, full of shame once more for the sins she committed at her father's command. She remembers building an army of undead for him, for the king and queen, remembers running away when the weight of it all became too much to handle.
She remembers promising never to do it again.
She no longer has the magic, but the promise remains.
So caught up in her past and in her future is she that she fails to realize that shadows linger where they ought not exist. It is not until she wanders into a faint darkness and begins to fall into the grasp of her deepest memories that a panic seizes her, but by then, it is far too late.
"My darling," her father's voice breaks the silence that reigned over the sunset girl's solar. "You look so sad, my sweet."
Her gaze falls upon her father, tall and strong; a smile bubbles to her lips. "I'm sorry, Father," she says sheepishly. "It's just... Mother." She doesn't have to say more: her father smiles, understanding in the deep lines of his face. He knows that the sunset girl's mother is difficult to deal with, at best; Persephone is forever a disappointment to her, for one reason or another. Her father, though, is always there to comfort the girl when Mother is on a rampage. She loves him dearly for it.
"Ah, my dear," he says with a sad sigh, "your mother loves you very much. She wants the best for you, even if she doesn't always show it the way you'd prefer."
The girl nods, looking away. Her father's words are wise, but she cannot help but doubt them in her all-knowing youth. To her, it seems that Mother wants to mold her into something that she can never be. Despite her best efforts, she cannot seem to please the older mare.
"But I have an idea, my darling," Father proclaims suddenly, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. Persephone looks to him hopefully, wanting desperately for him to accompany her to the market or to the forest, anywhere to get away from the court for a while. "I've a project that I've been working on, and I think you might be able to help me with it." It is not the escape that she had wished for, but she grasps it desperately nonetheless.
"Of course, Father," she agrees automatically.
They descend into the stallion's workshop: it is a dark, dank place more akin to a dungeon than the laboratory it is meant to be. Torches flicker angrily on the walls, casting long shadows that make the sunset girl's heart flutter with nerves. She notices that a hallway diverts from the main room. It is lined with bars, and she wonders with the first hints of fear what her father keeps caged. He would never harm me, she tells herself, though a small voice in the back of her mind flares in warning all the same.
When they halt in the middle of the room, her father tells her to wait and disappears down the hall of bars. A strange, red marking is drawn on the floor before her, thought she can't quite make out what it means. The fear is stronger now, making the girl nauseous. Still she does not believe that her father means her harm.
A shuffling sound emerges from the hall. Soon, a sickly colt stands before her, watching her with dull eyes. His ribs and spine stand out starkly against his malnourished skin, and he is covered in mud and feces. Her nose wrinkles in spite of herself at the smell, and her eyes widen in disgust and fear. Horror immobilizes her.
"F-father --" she manages to squeak, but the stallion is already moving.
He rises on strong hind legs, lashes out with one precise strike at the boy's poll, and then the colt is crumpled on the floor and she is screaming, tears streaming down her cheeks as she backs away from the man she had loved so dearly. Now all she can see is a monster, and she wonders how she has never seen it before. She wants to run, but her father has moved to block the door; no doubt he would catch her if she tried to flee, anyway. Her screams die down to gasping whimpers, and she cowers in a corner as her father walks nonchalantly toward her.
There is the smallest stain of blood on his hoof, a splatter so insignificant that it is a wonder that the strike that caused it was a killing one.
"Raise him," her father commanded, any affection for his daughter replaced by greed. The sunset girls stares at him, uncomprehending. "Raise him," he says again, his voice harder now, demanding and threatening.
"B-but -- but Father, I --"
"Raise. Him."
And so the first of her father's army was born.
Persephone gasps, stumbling backwards, almost falling over herself in her haste to get away. Distress is written on her pretty face; tears fall in heaving sobs. Trembling overtakes her body. It had been so real, real in a way that she never allowed her memories of home, her memories of him, to be; she is terrified, horrified, full of shame once more for the sins she committed at her father's command. She remembers building an army of undead for him, for the king and queen, remembers running away when the weight of it all became too much to handle.
She remembers promising never to do it again.
She no longer has the magic, but the promise remains.
"Persephone speaks."
Persephone
Surprise me, please! Persephone likes pretty things, but I like there to be something spiffy about items that isn't just like, "Oh look, a shiny!" I have no ideas or expectations for this if I was to win, so pretty much anything that isn't like an offensive weapon-y type thing would be great. :D This is awesome!
Also, Time gave me permission to enter her since Archi is going to be releasing her next post! :)
![[Image: 5626e4bc4fe1a]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5626e4bc4fe1a)
pixel by Kiara <3
Please tag Persephone in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Persephone always goes by the alias "Cora."
Want to plot with Persephone? Visit her plot page here!
