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07-15-2013, 10:32 PM
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The night is dark and full of terrors, or at least that is what they say. At times I believe them, but sometimes I do not. This is one of the latter times. The night presses in around me, but it wraps itself around me, pulling me into its embrace, almost like a lover. Gaucho, my mind whispers, but it is an errant thought in an empty skull. There is little that catches my attention tonight as I stand atop the creation that is partially mine, and partially of those before me. I had sought to protect those I loved, I strove to build something to keep them safe. But the gods have gone, and our magic with them, and so I am again powerless to stop what may come. I shed no tears; I feel no pain. There is only acceptance now, a deep melancholy that settles in my bones, a cold and unwelcome knowing that this night might well be our last. We are not without enemies, the Dragon's Throat, and it is not without a heavy heart that I sleep. Perhaps if I had pushed myself a little harder, worked a bit longer into each night before this... perhaps if I had avoided Gaucho's advance, if I had not become laden with child... but no, that was before my gift had come, and I would not give up my daughter for the world. I could say the same of Skysong - I will always say the same of Skysong - but my heart aches for her, and for my lost firstborn Diniel, and for my missing mate Note, and for all those I could not save before Helovia. I am surrounded by sadness and loss, it would seem, carrying nothing with me but suffering for those whom I deign to love. Perhaps it would have been better if I had simply declined Rowan's offer to come to the Dragon's Throat, if I had passed through Helovia as I had so many other places, a leaf on the breeze, floating wherever the wind might take me. Had it been a better life? No. But had it been a safer life? Perhaps it had been, for everyone else. A voice interrupts my dark musings, and I find that it is one I recognize. Zenobia sleeps in the heart of the Throat, safe within the confines of the herd, and I must return to her soon, but for now I believe a talk with one as wise as Rasta will do me good. I like her, and I respect her, though I know so little of her. My hooves clang softly against metal as I make my way carefully down one of the ramps, and then they thud softly into sand. I would never have dreamed that I would love the desert as I do now, but I suppose I have never thought to have multiple lovers, either. One must adapt, or one will die. That is what they say. As I see it, it is indisputable truth. "Miss Rasta," I greet her warmly, wanting to reach out to brush my muzzle against her shoulder in welcome, but being too shy to do so. "Talk talk talk." @[Rasta] |
| Sohalia Don't wanna leave this life knowing I barely tried... |
