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03-20-2013, 06:35 AM
Romani
Anger.
That was the main emotion that Romani had been feeling since the successful invasion of the Foothills, and the dethroning of her home. She had dedicated her life to the cause of protecting her home, and that job and the heartfelt dedication had been ripped from her, spat upon, and then the carcass of her previous life had been thrown at her hooves. Mixed emotions ran rampant in the palomino’s breast. One day all would be well; she could think clearly, move with confidence and be fine with the turn of events, but the next… Rage and injustice would fill her, causing her to seek solitary time away from her newly-knit family. Romani knew that Xanthos worried for her, and the mare’s agitation with herself only grew when she realized that there was nothing she could do to stop these blasted, wayward emotions and assure him that she was well.
Would there ever be a day that everything fell into place again? That she found purpose? The Haflinger had sworn fealty to Mirage and dedicated her life to protect the Edge, just as she had done the rolling hills of the Foothills… But despite her rank, family, and the new place she was supposed to call ‘home’, it felt anything but. She had retained purpose with servitude under Mirage… But the bitterness remained. It would plague her, she knew, until someone, or something could help her.
“… But how? Will I always feel like this?” No, this couldn’t be it… It was unfair. It was unfair of her to be stuck in this endless rut of inner turmoil and punish not only herself, but her dear Xanthos and their beloved Jasiri as well. Then why couldn’t she simply pull herself out of this self-induced madness?
The mare stood like a solitary figure against the cliff side of the Edge, her azure eyes dim of emotion aside of regret. The wind was strong here without the protection of the trees, the current whipping her flaxen mane and tail around unmercifully in its wake. The sun stood at its apex in the sky, sending warm rays cascading down to cover the earth in a warm embrace. Inhaling deeply, Romani tried to clear her head, but to no avail. The anger remained. She loathed having not been able to help her family defend their home in the Invasion… Others that made up her old herd had sought refuge in the Edge, much like she had done, but many had not. Idly, Romani wondered just what had happened to them… Or to Jackal.
The mere echoing of his name in her head caused Romani to grit her teeth, bitter anger once more blossoming in her breast. Oh, Jackal… Out of everything that she had found out, knowing that the Thief of Kings had left her family for dead had irked her far more than she had ever imagined. Romani had never enjoyed being around him, and now she knew why. While she had accepted him as the Chief of the Foothills, Romani had sworn her life to the Foothills, not him. If she ever saw him again the mare wouldn’t think twice on giving him a piece of her troubled mind.
“Damn it all!” She bellowed to the skies, rage and self-loathing coating every foul syllable. A thick, flaxen-feathered hoof stomped angrily upon the ground, nostrils flaring and ears tipping back in rage. “Damn it all! If only I could have done something to help…!” Inhaling sharply and breathing in the smell of salt and water, Romani stood at the edge of the cliff for a few moments longer, desperately trying to rein in her anger. She was a warrior… Letting her emotions get the best of her would be a poor thing to do.
Sparing the rolling waves of the sea one last, heart-felt look, the Protector turned on her haunches so that she was facing the tree-line once more. Where she stood was a clearing of sorts, a “C” shape that cut into the thick tree-line, leaving an area exposed. Perhaps once it had been used for sparring grounds, or a play area for youngsters… Immediately the mare’s mind back-pedaled, settling on one word; spar.
“… Would anyone grant this troubled soul a spar?” She called out towards the trees, ears tipping forward and crisp eyes searching for a potential challenger. Yes… Yes, a spar would be just what she needed to help remember herself. The simple act of relying on instinct would do wonders for her wounded spirit.
[Wordcount: 758 | 800 Word Max | 2 Posts Each with Closing Defense | Magic/Companions NOT allowed.
Setting: The Edge, midday, with the wind blowing North-East, in from the ocean. The large clearing is surrounded by trees on the North, East, and South side, with a cliff side on the West, facing the ocean. The clearing is large enough that a spar can remain a safe distance away from the edge of the cliff.
Other: This is a teaching spar with Alpacadin, who is free to make the first move if he wishes. :D]
That was the main emotion that Romani had been feeling since the successful invasion of the Foothills, and the dethroning of her home. She had dedicated her life to the cause of protecting her home, and that job and the heartfelt dedication had been ripped from her, spat upon, and then the carcass of her previous life had been thrown at her hooves. Mixed emotions ran rampant in the palomino’s breast. One day all would be well; she could think clearly, move with confidence and be fine with the turn of events, but the next… Rage and injustice would fill her, causing her to seek solitary time away from her newly-knit family. Romani knew that Xanthos worried for her, and the mare’s agitation with herself only grew when she realized that there was nothing she could do to stop these blasted, wayward emotions and assure him that she was well.
Would there ever be a day that everything fell into place again? That she found purpose? The Haflinger had sworn fealty to Mirage and dedicated her life to protect the Edge, just as she had done the rolling hills of the Foothills… But despite her rank, family, and the new place she was supposed to call ‘home’, it felt anything but. She had retained purpose with servitude under Mirage… But the bitterness remained. It would plague her, she knew, until someone, or something could help her.
“… But how? Will I always feel like this?” No, this couldn’t be it… It was unfair. It was unfair of her to be stuck in this endless rut of inner turmoil and punish not only herself, but her dear Xanthos and their beloved Jasiri as well. Then why couldn’t she simply pull herself out of this self-induced madness?
The mare stood like a solitary figure against the cliff side of the Edge, her azure eyes dim of emotion aside of regret. The wind was strong here without the protection of the trees, the current whipping her flaxen mane and tail around unmercifully in its wake. The sun stood at its apex in the sky, sending warm rays cascading down to cover the earth in a warm embrace. Inhaling deeply, Romani tried to clear her head, but to no avail. The anger remained. She loathed having not been able to help her family defend their home in the Invasion… Others that made up her old herd had sought refuge in the Edge, much like she had done, but many had not. Idly, Romani wondered just what had happened to them… Or to Jackal.
The mere echoing of his name in her head caused Romani to grit her teeth, bitter anger once more blossoming in her breast. Oh, Jackal… Out of everything that she had found out, knowing that the Thief of Kings had left her family for dead had irked her far more than she had ever imagined. Romani had never enjoyed being around him, and now she knew why. While she had accepted him as the Chief of the Foothills, Romani had sworn her life to the Foothills, not him. If she ever saw him again the mare wouldn’t think twice on giving him a piece of her troubled mind.
“Damn it all!” She bellowed to the skies, rage and self-loathing coating every foul syllable. A thick, flaxen-feathered hoof stomped angrily upon the ground, nostrils flaring and ears tipping back in rage. “Damn it all! If only I could have done something to help…!” Inhaling sharply and breathing in the smell of salt and water, Romani stood at the edge of the cliff for a few moments longer, desperately trying to rein in her anger. She was a warrior… Letting her emotions get the best of her would be a poor thing to do.
Sparing the rolling waves of the sea one last, heart-felt look, the Protector turned on her haunches so that she was facing the tree-line once more. Where she stood was a clearing of sorts, a “C” shape that cut into the thick tree-line, leaving an area exposed. Perhaps once it had been used for sparring grounds, or a play area for youngsters… Immediately the mare’s mind back-pedaled, settling on one word; spar.
“… Would anyone grant this troubled soul a spar?” She called out towards the trees, ears tipping forward and crisp eyes searching for a potential challenger. Yes… Yes, a spar would be just what she needed to help remember herself. The simple act of relying on instinct would do wonders for her wounded spirit.
[Wordcount: 758 | 800 Word Max | 2 Posts Each with Closing Defense | Magic/Companions NOT allowed.
Setting: The Edge, midday, with the wind blowing North-East, in from the ocean. The large clearing is surrounded by trees on the North, East, and South side, with a cliff side on the West, facing the ocean. The clearing is large enough that a spar can remain a safe distance away from the edge of the cliff.
Other: This is a teaching spar with Alpacadin, who is free to make the first move if he wishes. :D]
The True Soldier Fights Not Because
He Hates What is in Front of Him,
But Because He Loves What is Behind Him.
