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10-18-2016, 12:35 AM
"Oh, Rathunax, don't go too far ahead!" risen in such a way the dulcet tones garner a slight rasp, drenched in worry and anxiety. The closer the crimson tarragon advanced on their destination the more the skies seemed to open up for his presence. Sweet dove, lost soul — emotional compromise disallows her to follow suit. All that turbulent mind can muster goes as ‘Here again.’ Neither foreboding nor welcoming though it settles in the bottomless pit of the mind’s proverbial belly like settling dust. Utterly fascinating what the prefix of time does to the world. A turntable perinola but the game never ends in lackluster repetition with the sole realization that, in the end, there is only one lone survivor (a lone pillar) in the middle. The primordial venture into the foreign lands — a forced exploration — promoted by the rejection of a tremulous mother figure. Broken reminders sticking with her like a sick shadow. To have the same creature meant to adore and cherish become the boogeyman that plagues one’s sleep. Oh, that is a bone-deep betrayal. Battered and raw mentally and physically, the spectral reminders of her youth were immortal. Such life lessons are never easy to consign to oblivion. Demure as a hare on a hair-trigger for escaping the mottled castaway had descended on the doorsteps of these lands as unjust banishment.
Tear-streaked, broken, only to be welcomed into the warm arms of safe haven. Bereavement trailed behind her with hands held behind it’s back in wait ; no one spared the already broken the feel of loss. Inevitable, eventual, albeit the impact still slammed into the recipient like an angry bull. No outrunning it and the paper tiger of a mare must certainly could not hide. Lessons learned by the rough hand of life. Reasonably the uncertainty in the terms of absence of those she had adored with full heart bursting with the fence parting permanence to wanderlust garnered a plausible train of thought. The particular individuals that took broken doves beneath their wings to tended them until they took flight. Yeah, well Nayati was still waiting on that moment. To look upon unfamiliar lands and proclaim them home — the task was never difficult. No homestead awaited in the vast distance. Self-reproach ( a familiar friend of hers) festers somewhere dark for the windstorm departure she has taken in an attempt to put the new found confidence to use in the outside world. Rathunax as a patron saint, the gentle cherub’s steadfast ally, still there was not enough strength in attendance to stomach the possible (and likely) kick in teeth in direct correlation of facing an estranged mother.
Gods proof that she had tried to consummate the steel in her spine to get the inquisitive pondering that spun like a wash-cycle in a tireless mind answered. For simple closure. Persecuted in unfamiliar territory for rationale unknown — it is no wonder the anguish settled deep in sun bleached bones. A dark presence full of cynicism and persistent self-preservative one-sided conversations. For all the good Helovia shone upon her, the dark voice of misanthropy lingered on invincible and fed to gluttony. Ah, but the vermilion-eyed nymph questioned everyone these days. The never-ending wonder if whoever she encountered would hurt her, betray her, lie to her, or worst of all : leave her. A turbulent stream of rapid-fire questions that crept up in the silence at the most inopportune of moments. All the soft smiles and gentle, encouraging words fell flat when thrown back in praise toward her own person. To know this and still be unable to curb such instinctual rebuttal of positive praise but innately seek it? Oh, but it wears on the soul. In the harsh night a promise whispered to the skies that no one would ever cast her aside or harm her again only made her a foolish girl. How could one possibly stop the world from simply being as it always had been? Such optimism, she craves it, but her life has not given her the liberty to freely go about it even with her being as gentle as she is to the core. As vibrant as a glorious, sunny day.
Rathunax's puerile words of disappointment hold a weight that causes her to glance up at a sky she has ignored due to her own turbulent musing. A heavy shadow casts overhead and shelters the light further dampening her mood. Nayati rather likes the brightest views of the sun and moon (and it would seem Rathunax has taken the same preferences). She cannot count the stars blanketing the indigo skies in this kind of weather, however, and it causes her to harrumph quietly to herself. Hoof falls creep to still and the dark rim of a tinted muzzle tilts to rise at the scattered openings of the murky sky. The gifts bestowed, intertwined in her pale mane, twinkle with the movement ; beneath her presents a bountiful bouquet of radiant flora. 'Home now?' Rathunax prods and his deep red hide appears as hovering just above her tilted head, excitement dancing in those ruby eyes. Nayati can only curve her lips as his enthusiasm is quite alive through their bond. It is also contagious. "Yes." she answers him quietly, laughing softly at the quick, wild twirls he attempts mid-air. For all of Nayati's melancholy, the spitfire dragon has been more than happy enough for the both of them in her attempted travels. Now, she wondered if the nervousness, starting to swirl in the pit of her belly coming alive like the soft flutter of wings, would be the single entity to break her. Back here there was always the looming threat of abnegation but this place held the dagger to her demise : because if not here where else was there for her?
the rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but they also loved the dark,
where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. the roses said: you do not have to choose.
