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It was evening.
It was the night after the great meeting of the herd, when she had been reunited with her family. Above her, the sky gleamed in russet and crimson, garbed in the coat of her life position as a nurse. Here and there the rare star shone, a glitter of precious white bone under blood and sinew. The moon was a pale eye, clouded, Lei's eye, watching over her with a somber smile on dark lips. Even to the ghost of Lei, watching over her from the celestial palaces of the death skies, could see the quiver of Tor's white chest, rising and falling gently, the rustle as she moved along the ocean side, the wind a romping creature that tousled manes, tangled tails, and whipped forelocks. Her alabaster body was bathed in ruby light, and so she appeared as if bleeding profusely. Perhaps she was, on her delicate inside, fragile as cotton candy spun from sweet white sugar.
Tor stood silently, a sentinel facing the gasping, hungry wind that kissed her lips frozen and knotted her mane and tail, sending her long tassels twisting and turning, a pale ghost facing out to sea. Below her the waves roared and surged, battering against the hot coastline in hungry, clawing hands, snapping jaws. If she imagined hard enough, she could almost see the white salt horses of legend trying to pull themselves from the crests of waves, manes of white foaming behind them, the glitter and gleam of their silver bodies as they heaved upwards, mouths gasping for the precious air... and then the oceans smashed them to the sand hardened to rock, merciless, pitiless, breaking their alabaster bodies upon the drenched gray rocks. Even as Tor watched, her heart gave a little thud of dull surprise, sliced and cut as it was already, even if it were to be patched up. It was her, breaking on those rocks; or it had been, at the very least. Her traitorous heart was there, smashed upon the Edge of the World as she knew it. For when she looked out over the waves, she could see no hint of land, no smudge or darkness interrupting the blinding brightness of the white sun. White! Color of purity. Except she... she was tainted. No. I will undo my faults. But would she truly learn? Had the white healer, outcast to Gray to Edge to outcast to Edge, ever stayed where she had thought she would? Tor tried, she tried hard, to convince herself that she would not have come into Edge again if the gods had not meant it for her.
All was silent, save the steady beat of her thudding heart, and the rhythmic roar of waves, the howl of the wind in her ears. If this were a movie, a film, it would be the part where all went quiet, and you could hear the main character's heart. Tor was vaguely surprised at the thud of her heart, that it kept on beating. Had she not thought it had been torn, rent in two, by her petty and foolish mistakes? The white lady shifted, sighed, and let the thoughts tumble through her head. Laila. Was it her, or had her daughter been ever so slightly odd when she had first seen her? She had not said a word, instead... pulling away? Yes, she was older than she had been before. Was she entering that rebellious stage of life, or did she too know of Tor's treachery? Had it truly become so awful that Tor's own children did not love her anymore? What of Destrier than? Did he still accept her? What had she done in the first place, anyways? Why were her loyalties so twisted and scorned by the gods? Maybe the gods wanted to play with her emotions. And yet... the Earth God had seemed so kindly those days she had met him.
Tor sighed ever so softly. She had work to do, much of it. Patience she would need. There were horses to repair, and not only did she need to learn the meaning of family once more, but she needed to trust herself. Her feet needed to grow heavier, and she needed to care. No longer could her selfishness be used. She must toss it to the wind- and only keep it in the smallest of reserves for those outside of the Edge. Healing, she would continue. Even despite their broken friendship, Ophelia had told her her selflessness was a gift, and any who did not take it as such did not deserve her. Always would she heal those in need, no matter who- nor how bad they were, or cranky, such as Mauja had been in that Arch so many days ago- but she would never become indebted to others. No more promises. Tor needed to remain devoted and loyal to the end of her days. What hope Mirage had brought her should flourish, and develop into undying love for her family, no matter what promises she was brought by those outside of the Edge. After this day, she would work as hard as she could to stop being the broken one in her thoughts. Positivity and dedication was just the first step to having a family again, and this time, she would not ever abandon them. Slowly Tor wakens to the coolness of the evening wind, even during the heat of day. She hoped someone would come, someone who would not know her.
Tor was back to the start, the beginning. No more turncoat. Only unknown horse.
for Linds with Thor; open to any Tier 3 and above ranks; open to Destrier, Luken & Laila; I would like to keep this under two other characters (including Thor).
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