|
She is drowning in an ocean of regret.
The death-stallion says, in his sinister-cloaked voice, he will not leave. Nor will the muscled bay stallion, or the blue vixen. Blue. It represents, so often, misery as well as happiness. Maybe Tor should've been blue as opposed to white, for it seemed most regretfully she stood in place of many different emotions as well. The draft lets those cold words swill around in an empty mind, until they drift to the bottom of her grief and finally make her sit up. Pay attention, she chides, forcing away the anguish and dejection settling over her defeat.
Quickly, another arrives, this time a face slightly familiar. A foal. The filly that had appeared in the Spectral Marsh with the one that tore her apart. This time, Tor takes better note of her. Small. Must be quite young. Dun, or maybe wild bay, with appaloosa coloring. A horn spiraling from small skull. There is more to her, but Tor doesn't really note or care. Think, the pale mare urges herself, trying to open the mouth that has dried so quickly.
There are no words on her tongue.
More hoof-beats. And more. First belong to the black fae, the mare of the forest she met long ago, dark, sinister, just as twisted as her gnarled horn. Mouth opens and closes, trying to work itself into words that are legible- hear-able? Get out of the dust, Tor tells herself again, and again, trying miserably (and failing) yet again to make coherent sense. But this time, a familiar, wonderful scent washes over her.
"Ophelia?" Incredulous, the draft turns her head, eyes seeking out the alabaster form amongst the mountains dark. No! Why had she of all horses come? And then only one word registers.
Friend.
Immediately she comes out of the water drowning her, comes up nearly perfectly formed. Maybe it is just shock of hearing the word that wakes her so- maybe it is just relief. "We should talk," Tor says quietly, trying to reach out to put her muzzle to Ophelia's shoulder- then withdraws swiftly, prickled as she realizes the hard set of Phi's eyes. "And we should leave... forgive me, Lady of the Basin- I understand I have trespassed, but will you let me walk out? I will not come near here ever again." She gathers her prayers.
Please let us leave.
[Sorry if I've skimped over anyone or that it's a bit rough around the edges. It's hard with some many people in this thread!]
we all have our stories- i'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
