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05-18-2013, 01:03 PM
 Her smile makes you wonder where she's been Morn does not herald silent footfalls nor gracefully slinking form. Today there is no shadowy jaguar stalking elegantly, mysteriously, through the slowly darkening shadows. How strange, that they darken as the seasons change and yet lighten stubbornly upon every daybreak. It was a beautiful morning, and in fact she remembered unveiling deep royal violet irises to greet a mixture of colors that danced across the sky, coloring far more than the northern lights could dream of. Soft peachy oranges, muted goldenrod, and even deep fuchsia the same shade of the heart of a pink lily. All bleeding into a softer, paler roseate shade that eventually mated with the fuzzy weak azure that would dominate the day in later hours. Warmth that sang a nostalgic song of pleasant seasons past had crept upon them all, breaking up the slowly greying, wilting days of rain and dry lightning storms and basking all children below- good or evil, it mattered not- in pleasant buttery cloaks that road on the backs of muted colors in shimmering gowns. A small smile had unfolded upon her lips, knowing there was no other member around to see the softness she reflected back to the canvas above. In the arms of Morpheus, the frigid princess melted into a feminine doll that held no lines of anger upon a visage that could be surprisingly innocent at times. Impartial, stoic draw of lips faded into a weak upturn in slumber, guard drawn down while her growing princely child watched over her. Instinct disregarded, her belly had warmed the dew collecting around their little area as she lay peacefully upon the sprawl of emerald carpet like a newborn whose mother had wandered to graze. All was peaceful, and the day was undeniably breathtaking. Upon full awareness, however, something did not seem quite right. Not in a way that had anticipation and defense prickling along her spine like the hairs of a riled cat, but in a misplaced, queasy feeling that made her insides tremble. On endlessly long pillars she had searched out the source of this disruption, this droning fly that buzzed annoyingly, persistently, in her ears. Fashionably late to a party she had not been informed was themed, Lakota was an obvious disruption. A liability that had not been filled in. Someone to watch with careful, subtle glances. And so her heart had ached, a bird with a broken wing that fluttered and cried with every moment, but had to fly to escape total destruction. All her life she had been cursed with love, and even the tiniest hint of it in her heart had to be brutally crushed. Fear flooded her, wondering if the other she had found her pulse beating faster for would hurt her- purposefully or otherwise- and was suddenly retreating into old habits from when she was young and far more broken. Cutting those emotions until she could squeeze them into a box and bury it beneath ice, so that they couldn't touch her. Couldn't hurt her. Two kisses upon two brows, two fitting gifts from gods she had never met that would keep them safe while they slowly grew older. No words were exchanged with the new mother or her sibling, who had taken on the same title, until the very end. After years of cruelty, her aristocratic nature had stuck in her habits like glue, pressed in by scars and punishing hooves and teeth from her foalhood. It was close to painful to watch the proud father glowing, so in love it made her both ache for someone to look at her that way, and for him to stop looking in that exact manner at the one person she had connected with in this new land. Hadn't she been there, forever loyal, since they'd first met? Shadowed her, protected her, supported and encouraged her? It felt as if she was trying to justify the wailing sorrow that could not be comforted, sitting inside her throat with a fierce struggle for freedom into the air around her. Sheer will was all that kept it shackled, even as her throat began to ache and nostrils burn with chill. As soon as she had escaped the view of those three perfect figures and their two perfect daughters, she had snapped like a rubber band pulled past its breaking point. And suddenly those endlessly long legs gained from a heritage her demonic parents nearly worshiped gave her an escape she hadn't used in years. She fled. Personality always made her seem larger, more masculine. Around others, she forcefully deepened and roughened her vocals, making them a growl that dared all those near to challenge her words. Drew herself tall, puffed herself up until her mass seemed to double. For so long she had been the picture perfect model, the mannequin her mother dressed in finery that was not of her choosing. Oh, how her family cherished the delicacy of their own forms. With the draft lines in her sire, they had achieved perfect form. It sickened Lakota, not only with how vain they were, but with how her body betrayed her in its femininity that they had strived for. In reality she was frail and thin, athletic muscles that were hardly visible and the slimmest her parents could manage. After all, they may be tyrants that committed mass genocide, but they were royalty as well. How she hated them...yet she couldn't help but send a brief, sarcastic word of thanks to the sire surely burning in the afterworld meant for those of evil breeding. She had been the one to send him there, and yet she still found no guilt. At that moment, her frame was giving her speed that was likely dangerous should she trip or crash into a suddenly revealed obstacle. Did she care? No. Heart had not shattered or broken, but she had seared the wound closed before it could grow, hoping it would stop the emotions she felt for her best friend and Chieftess from growing and strengthening until they were actually able to tear her apart. Maybe physical pain would help, and she almost found herself wishing for those dangers to become realities. Ao knew better than to try and keep pace with her, instead assuming a gait that he could keep up for hours and tracking her through a bond that shivered and twanged with the volatile emotions the exiled princess was fighting down. So she turned to the only one that had become a default- anger. It was easier to be angry, to flame up instead of burn down. One might comment that the former led to the latter, but that only further proved her point. Anger, especially false anger used to protect oneself, always crumbled into emotions such as sorrow and depression. Even she was not swift enough to outrun her troubles. Nevertheless it didn't stop her from trying. Fleet-footed as she was, her hooves barely kissed the ground with each pass, but the quake inside her made them strike oddly against the greenery beneath. Surging uphill only sapped more and more of her energy, until at last she was forced to slow or risk collapse, especially with the slow thinning of air the higher she climbed. Lean pillars trembled quite conspicuously, mane wild in some parts and plastered to her neck with sweat in the other areas. Ears were constantly twitching, showing the confused emotions her body couldn't translate easily. Foam flecked off her flanks like disgusting snowflakes, evidence of her weakness. Sprinting was easier with her larger reserves of stamina, but what she had done was foolish and potentially harmful and she knew it. Instead of walking aimlessly she held her shaking, panting breath to find the closest source of water. The elevation meant it had to be running, and soon she had a direction, a goal. Something to calm herself until the task was completed. It let herself push everything beneath it, and she would work from there until she was ready to confront that tangled mess. Finally she stumbled, quite literally, upon the creek she had been tracking. It wasn't her most elegant entrance, but she was exhausted. Obsidian hooves caught in the foliage, the damper soils along the banks, and nearly sent her sprawling. Instead she hit her knees, tiny ache of old scars hidden behind the shuddering bruising force of the impact. Walking was going to be a pain, but healing magic was not reached for. This was both her punishment and her saving grace, something different and more immediate to focus on. At least her breath had stopped rattling like she would die within moments, but it still shook in emotional little pants. Struggling up like a newborn the poisoner took the last few steps towards the cold liquid she'd been looking for. Dark lips touched the surface, calming the fire in her throat with a few swallows. Ao came to her then, weaving between the cage of her legs and rubbing against her in a feline fashion to show her that he was there. Sighing softly, the doe kept her crown low and ambled into the small creek, cooling her hooves which ached in protest at her abuse. Instead of feeling angry, she merely felt hollow. Hazy, stuck in limbo between feeling the bitterness lurking inside and total numbness. Stubbornly, Aodaun charged into the shallow water and darted between her legs and beneath her hanging muzzle, growling and making strange little barks. He could not comfort her, far too young to understand what had made her so bitter towards the group they'd left and even towards herself, but he could try and lighten her mood with play. Though she tried, there was no resisting his antics, and soon she was dancing about as well, drawing delicate ankles up and out of the water to splash the cool droplets at him. Long tail swept up in a similar fashion, and though her enthusiasm was small in comparison to their normal play, she was at least slightly better than before. During their splashing and huffing at one another, a flash of paleness caught Lakota's eye and they immediately froze, Ao so close to her mind that they were both alerted at once. The fae was upstream, far enough that her features were indiscernible and so theirs would be the same, but the poisoner cursed her inattentiveness. Aodaun, however, was far more interested in running to greet this new lady. Cursing under her breath, Lakota followed him at a brisk pace, worry gnawing at her insides. The pale bear was growling happily and tumbling around the pale maiden's legs, batting at her tail and gazing up at her in hopes she would lower her crown to him. Lakota desired to run to him and drag him away from the potential danger, but didn't want to seem like a threat to this stranger either. Still standing within the stream, she faced the alabaster woman at a slight angle instead of face to face, and tried to keep her eyes on her little prince instead. Command to return to her rang through their connection, but it held desperation instead of sharpness. It worked either way, and the ball of mischief came rushing to her side once more, perfectly composed. Soft sigh of relief was unable to be withheld. Gaze flickered up to the other female at last, meeting golden irises. "My apologies, he was already excited from our play. He meant no harm." Ao wriggled and gave a soft growl as if in emphasis of her lyrics. Shadowy maiden did not feel comfortable where she stood. Her icy mask had been shattered, showing the defeat, bitter sorrow, and self-hatred in sharp relief. Legs still quaked with exhaustion, flanks and shoulders still damp with her sweat, face tired and frame quivering softly. She was weak, vulnerable, and the anxiety was clear in her eyes. Luckily, so was the sharpness of a fighter that told this potential threat she would fight regardless of her current state. Gaze flickered uncomfortably around, but always settled on the snowy miss, not wanting to give her distraction as a perfect opening for attack. Clearing her throat softly, she awkwardly shifted and let the motion carry her back a few steps. Just in case. "We didn't mean to interrupt your morning. Aodaun was only trying to comfort me with his antics, I take responsibility for his excitement. My name is Lakota, may I ask yours?" Might as well try to be somewhat friendly in her apologies, right? She was aware of the scent on this femme's coat, knew where she hailed from, and remembered her encounter with d'Artagnan. Naturally she was wary, knowing the deal they'd struck about the Throat may not be enough, that she could easily be racist and desire her death much like the bloodied stallion who'd aided her- unhappily, of course- in her quest. Yet her heart still ached, and her muscles still quivered, and she was just so so tired. Wanting to cry, but wondering if she was still capable of producing tears. Demons weren't supposed to cry.  |
