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BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY
The day was filled with the hot blaze of summer, scorching the sands like it had its inhabitants throughout the season. But today there was pressure in the air, like she had been breathing an invisible silence since morning, as if she had been watching stormclouds above the ocean form and darken soundlessly and quietly. Maybe she had been able to see them roll into the mainland if she had been paying attention. Maybe if she hadn’t been dozing off in the sweltering shadows of the rocks she would have noticed the change sooner. Mr. Teatime was restless, swiping his tail from side to side as he sat guard around her, still like a statue, but, unlike her, eyes wide awake.
She felt Mr. Teatime stand up, his emotions pushing against her own thoughts, and she looked up right when Mr. Teatime walked back towards her - which she didn’t understood. Immediately, there was a flashing light, a blaze of more warmth that ruffled the air. The mare moved to see where it came from, the extra heat dancing around the feathers of her stretched out wings. For some reason she felt her heartbeat stagger when she saw the pillar of fire dooming into her vision. Gaucho’s flaming eagles? she thought to herself, confused. Was there a herd meeting? Yet, there usually wasn’t this fiery pillar… this fire that didn’t look quite like regular fire...
She moved without hesitation, like she would’ve done for every meeting, except now what she expected to see didn’t really match what would’ve been in her head. Equines and pegasi had assembled around as Maren had slowed her pace, hesitant and unsure about how the pressure she had felt had suddenly grown in depth and darkness, as if a sudden storm had fallen in their midst, except that storm wasn’t of rain and shadows, but in the form of a body. Gaucho. She could only think his name when she looked at his crimson lit body loved y the flames — the ones she had learned to also love watching, when they swung and twirled so eagerly, so playful — the ones on Gaucho’s feathered wings faded into a slow dancing rhythm, a sad melody, if there had been music playing, until they were merely starving flames, until they were mere cinders… until they were dead. Dead like the Sultan. (It could’ve actually gone really fast, but before her eyes it had played in slow motion). She didn’t stop to question what it could’ve been. She wasn’t a healer or a detective. For some reason she just thought it was old age, a body of a warrior done its course, even though she had never known how old he actually was. She only knew that he had served their herd as leader for a long, long time. He was ascended, so perhaps she was supposed to feel angry — supposed to feel strange that he was now dead. As if the God of the Sun had betrayed his life force. Yet, she knew, there was more than that — Perhaps it was only now, that he had truly found Ascension.
Peace.
There were whispers of voices around her, coming from ones that were heartbroken or simply terribly saddened. She realized she hadn't ever been apart of his language and neither had he ever heard of hers. It was like they had always been a parallel to each other, always, except that one time that she had decided to disapprove of the fire bridge. Looking back, she thought that had been rather random of her, out of place. He should’ve punished her for pretending to know better (even if she did). Damn, what had she even said to him? She regretted to think that it probably hadn’t been anything particularly nice. Yet, he had been so kind to her; promoted her, believed in her. He had always told her not to be afraid, hoped for her to see that the fires did not hurt. And although she did see truth in his words now, she had never truly understood why he couldn't have seen truth in her ravaging complaints as well.
She was thankful.
For she would remember him as forever stubborn, a Will of Fire. She would see him in her memories as the bulky mass of crimson, feathers and bones, with Mara lingering his antlers like heaven’s serpent circlet, while Vorsa followed in his footsteps like she had been the fiery stallion’s shadow, as if to make excuse for the shadow that should’ve been in the place of Gaucho’s halo of lighted flames. In the end, she decided that her first memory of him was the best one, where she had met him along the coast, promising him she would stay and gifting him her loyalty. She had’t had anything else. And perhaps he hadn’t realized it, but that day had meant a great deal to her. After all, she had given up her wandering life; the road of travel, to sit and preach to their Fiery Lord instead. She did not regret it, maybe felt even stronger in her duty now that she knew a familiar face next to her Gods’ up in the Clouds of Glory. Even if the future of their herd was now left shaken and uncertain, she had all the trust in the world that he would be there when things grow cold; a light in the dark, even now.
She heard a voice that she recognized as Sohalia’s, the mare that had been Sultana when she had first arrived here, years ago and, who she assumed were his children, had assembled close around him. She let them be from where she stood, a bit on the sideline; respectively keeping her head low, thinking of the memories she would now sherish like he had cherished them as she said goodbye.
At some point the God of the Sun came around, which she bowed her head for again in all respect she had. For some reason she wasn’t surprised he had come, after all; He had very much blessed Gaucho with many years of leadership. She listened to her God of Flames as he announced a new leader. A new Sultana. Sikeax. His fires blazed in confidence and Maren as well immediately understood that this was a right choice and she knew first had that Sikeax had been a part of the sands for way longer than her. Like her loyalty had lain with Gaucho and Megaera, it was now with their former healer as well.
The demi-goddess Aithniel had wandered into their midst, wishing to send him to the world beyond, as she called it. After she had gone and picked a feather, Maren nodded, knowing this was how it was supposed to be.
-cries- Gauchoooo
(alsososorry for probable mistakes in sentences, didn't check it >> need to eat)
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[O] Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. [death]
