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03-24-2017, 05:16 PM
i've got my feet on the ground and i don't go to sleep to dream |
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Since everything crumbled into nothing – since everyone scattered, since their God had said goodbye just like everyone says goodbye, Macaria has not gone anywhere. She has remained here in the Falls, the empty, listless, meaningless Falls. Luckily there is plenty of fodder, plenty of water – only bummer is, there’s hardly anyone around wanting to talk, and certainly no one she recognizes anymore, they all left long ago. Ones she thought dear, ones she called family – even her own father, her older brothers, all gone. Thunderous footfall came up behind her, some hundred feet away, a stallion and a bear approached near where she grazed quietly alone in the warm daylight. She brings her white face up from the ground, the sunlight dancing in yellow ribbons across her snowflake dapples and steel-gray coat. Her tail flicks and twirls just above the ground as she watches the stranger – or, not stranger? She begins to notice his color, his hair’s red tips, she remembers him now from her childhood. Better times, times when her brothers would still visit and her father was still King. Murtagh, his name rang in her mind. She’d never seen his bear before, but then again they were merely foals last their faces met. He was grown now, a few inches (three, to be exact) shorter than her husky size. “Maybe they’re hiding?” “No.” her normally lovely chime voice is now melancholy as she calls out, edging closer with slow steps. Once she is a respectable, talkable distance from him she stops. Her golden eyes settling onto the stallion’s face, “Our God left us.” She casts a saddened look from east to west and then back to him, to his bear and then back, “Everyone is gone. This is merely common ground now.” Her tail whips anxiously for a few swaths before falling back down to tremble softly just above the grassy earth. Her head tilts curiously to one side, her black forelock tumbling off of her face, some snagging on the chain dangling at the base of her amber horn. “I remember you…” She manages a weak, but sweet little smile on her pink lips, “I’m Macaria. And you’re…you’re Murtagh, right?” She hopes she pronounces it correctly, offering him a look of hesitation. He’s been the first familiar face in such a long time, but still her heart feels so broken that hope can hardly touch it these days. Even still a small bit of brightness returns to her wet almond eyes, hopeful for what she isn’t quite sure. None the less she can feel something twinge in her little heart. Something that feels much better than the awfulness she’s been used to lately. |
macaria |
Image by Psilo!
@Murtagh
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