the Rift


[OPEN] if i've got to sin to see you again, then i'm gonna lie, lie, lie;

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#1
Bruised and battered, the mare with the golden lock prowls the wilds, searching for her lost friend.

She still limps slightly from the deadened flesh in her side, a partial chunk of her hair standing erect just behind her ears from where the bastard known as the Reaper had ripped her hair from it's upper attachments; her face is a scowl that would burn the leaves straight from the boughs of the trees around her, if looks could do such things. It has taken her nearly twice as long as it should have to reach the willow glade, and all the while she has plotted and schemed as to how she might rid herself of her mostly newly found nuisance while calling out for the lost ebony mare.

Didn't she have her mouth full enough with all these damn hornless prowling around?

"Psyche!" she calls, not caring that others may hear her. She'd been shouting her name all the way down from the mountain, anyway, and not a soul had disturbed her yet; either way, it wasn't like she really cared. Even in her currently debilitated state from the touch of death that Deimos had inflicted on her, because of her current state, truly, she was so desperate to find her lost counterpart that she feared nothing in the cause of finding her.

Though she still felt as if she had been abandoned by the Dark Empress, the layer of blame that lacquered itself over her emotions fading more and more each time the lonesome sensation swept across her thoughts; she would forgive her. Who else did she have?

@[Psyche]
Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#2
The Dark Empress was not who she had been.

It had been a difficult time, of course, there was no denying that: she had been exiled by those she had led, all because she lost a single portion of a larger war. All because she had lost her crown in the battle that they had all failed in. And yet, despite the various failures and mistakes, she had been the one to blame. She had been the one deposed, ousted from her place in the mountains. She had been bitter, yes, and weak. She had been saddened by their treatment of her, and it was this knowledge which forced her to reevaluate herself. The old Psyche would never have allowed such emotion to take over, would never have given in to the temptations of love and lust and friendship that she had found in their northern home. She would have ruled with an iron hoof, taking what she needed, doing what she wanted, lording over them all and using fear as her weapon of choice. But that mare was long gone (though it had taken long enough for her to realize as much) and in her place was a new creature, one that the shade had yet to understand.

And so she had wandered, mostly thinking, sometimes talking to a sad soul who took away the pain of being alone for a little while. She had come to enjoy the company of the little wisp of light in her banner, a lost soul all her own. Perhaps that day with Paladin on the beach had not been a battle against an unknown creature - perhaps it was a battle against herself, and how she had her own wandering ghost to wear on her sleeve for the world to see.

She had learned much about herself. She had come to see that fear was not always the best venue. She had come to see that conversation with a lesser was just as scintillating as conversation with one of her own. She had begun to find that her hatred was not directed at anyone in particular as much as it was directed at her past. She had started to understand that there was nothing for her in leadership, nothing for her in the North, nothing for her in the racism that had led her through life. She had come to the realization, finally, that she was different now than she was before, that those that had enjoyed her company then would find her revolting now, that she couldn't go back even if she wanted to. She did not want the life she had led. In truth, she wasn't sure she wanted any life at all, but she certainly did not wish the old turmoil upon her soul. She had aged, in a way, and the burden that her lifestyle had left her with was a difficult one to bear.

She walked on.

It was late morning, or perhaps early afternoon, and she thought she heard her name. The woods around her were peaceful, if a bit bare, and sound carried easily through the trees. Something pulled her in the direction of the call, though she could not say what that something was. A part of her desired companionship, as she so often did, these days; another part of her felt that this encounter would not be one that she would enjoy. Still, the voice was familiar, and one that she felt some manner of affection for, and so when she found herself face-to-face once again with a rather battered Illynx, she found herself momentarily speechless.

"Illynx." It was a simple greeting, and a sort of stunned, uncomfortable one at that. "You... look rather awful, darling. Has Deimos given you trouble?" There as a lilt in her voice, though not as pronounced as it had once been, and perhaps present more out of habit than actual menace. There was concern, too, an emotion that was not normally in her repertoire. Illynx would know that something was off about her Empress, and somewhere deep within the shade's heart, sadness bloomed at the knowledge that she was about to disappoint her oldest friend. She could not be the Dark Empress anymore, and the freedom that this realization had brought her - the freedom to feel, to express emotion, to show caring - meant a great deal more than she had ever thought it would.

Not only could she not go back; she would not go back.

And that concept was truly stunning.

@[Illynx]

"Talk talk talk."

Image Credit

[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#3
A familiar smell slows her progression, dainty woman’s head lifted to catch the scent loitering over the green smell of the slumbering branches that hang like so many limp bodies around her. It is her darling, to be sure, but where? The wind is ceaseless, it caries the scent in ripples around Illynx, and she cannot find the source for the life of her, left standing in a slight clearing looking about her quite lost for the body her shadow so deeply longed for.

When the wraith appears, the golden backed mare also stares in a stunned silence – but it is not her bedraggled appearance, the curses knitted into her heart that stall her usual bouncy demeanor (especially around her dearest). It is Psyche’s horn, or lack there of, and her lips gape wide and horrified at the image that breaks through the naked arms of the willows.

The first tear splashes soundless on the grey leaves at her hooves as her name is ushered from the Empress’ lips, the second and third following suit though she attempts to stab into her tongue with hard white teeth to bite the emotions back. Is this why they had chased her away? The feeling of sickness grows in her belly, makes the inquiry her only friend asks of her lag and delay in her mental processes.

Her nod is slow and deliberate in response, yes, she mouths, her head finishing the statement in silence: but I have nothing to mourn that may compare to your losses.

Finding herself moving forward quite abruptly in her shame (these damn tears) and emotional stupor, she attempts to bury her face in the dark shoulder of her wandering queen if the woman would allow her to touch so freely upon her scar laced pelt. Her sides heave silently, dark hair strewn across her features and blurring the unsightly image of her red rimmed, golden irises. "Was this Ulrik?" she sobs bitterly, all her anguish towards the mountain and it’s seemingly perfect inhabitants coiling like the grip of a snake beneath her delicate vocals, "What has befallen your crown my darling!" “Crown” and everything after slides forth in a deranged gurgle of hesitant rage; she would kill him if she had to.

It would be only a single name added to her list of things to be cleansed – right there in burgundy ink beneath the devilish psalm of Deimos, the Reaper.

"How could you leave me with those men?" shrieks the Lady, recoiling from Psyche’s side as quickly as she arrived there, her harsh golden eyes burning holes through the branches that surrounded them, flashing to the world around their posed frames and the Empress herself through tear-tinted lenses, "Deimos is a monster and Ulrik is no assistance in keeping that heinous mongrel under check; they act as if you were never there, as if I am not allowed to mourn you!" Her tantrum unfurled in a sparkling display of her inner drive for self preservation, her anger at having been abandoned so unceremoniously and left to the hooves of men who thought more of their own swollen cocks than those they were meant to guide; like Medusa's vicious heads, her tail snaps and writhes about her body. "The mother fucker tried to kill me during a training session! And still he struts about wearing your title like it has earned him more than my disgust! And you…" her gold eyes are hot like molten metal as they find her friend’s face, "you left me."

And now, I can trust no one.

Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#4
If there was one emotion that the DarkEmpress had truly never felt before, it was guilt. She did not feel guilty when she murdered her first pegasus. She did not feel guilty when she seduced Mauja in an attempt to gain power. She did not feel guilty when she found herself the lead of the Aurora Basin. She did not feel guilty when she had failed to win their war.

But as Illynx came into view, horror and shock evident in her gaze and accusations on her lips, the Dark Empress felt a wave of the most heartfelt guilt that one could possibly feel. For as she had fled so hurriedly, so hurt by Ulrik's taunts and Deimos' stoic silence, she had not once stopped to think of Illynx. She had not said goodbye. She had not told her of her failure. She had not told her of her loss. She had failed the one individual that had always had her back. She had failed the one true friend she could claim.

She did not like the feeling.

"I... oh, Illynx -" she began, regret in her tones. But the golden-laced mare wasn't done. There was a brief moment, as Illynx charged forward, in which the Empress thought that she may find herself impaled upon her friend's sharp sword, but the fae merely buried her face into the shade's shoulder. Just as quickly, though, she was away again, and yelling, leaving Psyche in a rather sheepish pool of confused emotions. Finally, when she was done, and she stood there with her chest heaving and her gaze accusing and tears streaking down her fact, the shadow-mare sighed heavily.

"Ulrik didn't do this," she said, her lyrics more tired than the Lady had perhaps ever heard them. "Though you may thank him for my disappearance." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I'm sorry, Illynx. I didn't mean to leave you. I just - I'm not even one of you anymore - and Deimos and Ulrik - all of them, really - they didn't care about me. They didn't thank me. They didn't love me. I was a placeholder while they waited around for Mauja to come back and -" her voice was rising, quickening, beginning to crack around the edges, too much like her soul.

She turned away, closed her eyes, and took a breath.

"But he never came back, and they were stuck with me. And what am I but a jumped up soldier playing at being a princess?"

She laughed then, a sad little chuckle that had no place in their conversation, as heated as it had gotten. It wasn't the topic that had upset the Empress so much, you see - it was the guilt, the hot, molten regret that filled her veins at the decision to leave her friend behind. It was the knowledge that Illynx hadn't even been a thought. She wouldn't go back to the Basin. She wouldn't go back to the heartless wretch she had been before. But she would go back so she could take Illynx with her. She would try to grow into their friendship. She would try to give back what Illynx so selflessly gave, time and time again. But it was too late for that.

"You deserved better than me, Illynx. I'm sorry."

@[Illynx]

"Talk talk talk."

Image Credit

[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#5
She wanted her eyes to stop burning, for the gap where Psyche’s elegant horn should be to filled with its usual obsidian splendor, for the chasm that had grown into her heart so suddenly and aggressively to knit itself shut.

Her sides heaved with her angst, coiling and uncoiling a fist-like grip on her mind, golden eyes gleaming like tear dipped daggers in the serene little grove in which she had found her lost treasures. But she didn’t gleam as she once had, no longer was she a vast, silken cloak under which Illynx might hide. This robe had too many holes, it’s edges frayed and the fabric itself thin enough to be used as taffeta rather than a covering.

The signs all gleamed around her like ever so many broken promises.

For one, the woman hadn’t recoiled from her touch, merely accepted it as a mother would the weeping of a babe – the Empress would have shunned her, as much as it would have pained the golden minx further to be denied the embrace. The sorrow that repressed her vibrant tones was a stamp on the packaged image of the new Psyche, the one who had been shamed off of her white tower and forced out here, to the gates of the Edge.

Illynx was not angry.

She was disappointed.

Even as the words fell from her friend’s lips, she struggled to truly hear them. Ulrik had not lied, then – another knife slides its way deep into her chest. If they had not loved her dearest, then surely she was doomed. Who was more an angry soldier disguised as a queen than herself? Her tears rolled heavy and thick, more a river now than they had been even during her tirade of emotions. The Lady found herself pacing savagely by the end of the words, her voice cold and crisp as ice as it broke the thin veneer of silence that had enveloped that insidiously weak apology.

"Shut up!" she snapped, pinning her ears to her head and stopping so suddenly that her dark locks twirled around her, Spanish dancers writhing in a song of passion, "Just shut up! Apologize to your damn self! They stole your horn, not your soul!"

"Mauja was but a man! Deimos and Ulrik are but men!" her lips curled savagely, white teeth gleaming in the partial shade of their meeting place, "and you are the Dark Empress! You were to let them bend and kiss your hooves; instead of demanding their worship, you fled! You ran like a child into the wilderness, and left me to bare the weight of their arrogances!" Her face replayed all the lonesome memories of her life before the Plague, before the dark wings of protection offered to her by this seemingly plain black mare. I have defended you for this life you gave me, she thinks to herself quite bitterly, do not tell me I have followed a shadow all these years. Do not tell me that life is so hollow.

"Never return to the mountain, if that is your wish -" her golden eyes narrowed as she paced nearer her friend, pinned listening utensils like sharp little teeth against her crown, "but you are a Queen and this putrid display of weakness leaves me with a desire to knock the rest of your horn from your head. You are not a child, you are not a hornless rodent – cease acting as one!"

Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#6
A small part of her, the remnants of a lost soul, struggled to sit in silence throughout the golden mare's tantrum; the larger part simply struggled not to show her boredom. She watched with tired, old, amber eyes as the Lady berated and abused her, no emotion showing on her face. Unlike old times, when her apathy was an elaborate mask, a ruse she put on to ensure her followers saw only her strength, her uncaring demeanor was, quite simply, the truth. What she should have done - what she could have done - all of this and more the GildedBlade threw in her face, and all she could think of was how dismally bleak the whole thing was, how terribly unimpressive the dramatics were. Had she been that bad? Had she thought that this proved her strength?

Was she stronger now? Even without her crown?

"Illynx," she said gently, a mother to a child who did not quite understand the severity of the situation in which she found herself, "My horn was my soul. What was my reign built on, darling? Why did anyone put their faith in me, even if it was only to await the return of a long lost king? What did I promise our followers?" She paused, letting the question sink in. "I promised to eradicate the hornless from the world. I did not deliver, and worse, when they look at me, they will be reminded of my failure. When they talk of me it will be of my inadequacy. When they consider my future, they will see only the bareness of my brow.

I cannot be a queen, Illynx; perhaps I never had a right to be one at all. You are in my position now. Do you not see the hollowness of their allegiance?"
She raised her eyebrows, a silent query: how long until they throw you from power? It was not a cruel statement, not meant to maim, but to protect, for however horrid Illynx chose to be to her, the fallen Empress, having given in to emotion, allowed it to make its home in her previously nonexistent heart, finally cared. She did not want to see Illynx suffer as she had. She did not want to watch the Lady care for those she led, only to see how very fickle their loyalty was. She wanted better for her friend.

She took a step forward. "Kill me if you must, Illynx. I'm no better than the hornless now, anyway. But it won't soothe the hurt in your soul, trust me on that."

@[Illynx]

"Talk talk talk."

Image Credit

[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#7
Soothing, the gentle way with which her friend deals with her dramatics, as it has always been. It nearly brings another tirade of tears flowing from her features, but she bites down hard on her tongue and hides the emotions under the sweet taste of her own blood. She stands shaking and drained, a hollow appearing for the first time beneath her passionate emotions that ebb and flow through her as if they are a physical ailment. She wishes that her heart will stop breaking, for this ache of loneliness to cease, and while she feels the faintest glimmer of it’s fading back as Psyche explains her own emotional turmoil to her, it is still oppressive and nagging, threatening all the while to send her back into a frenzy of hateful words and misplaced aggression.

So sharp the dagger that pierced her as the question hung heavy on the air – “Do you not see the hollowness of their allegiance?”

Such a clear definition of the paranoia that had begun to anchor itself into her heart, the fear that she was to fail no matter how hard she struggled to prove her usefulness to them, and she could find no words immediately to reply to her friend other than to shamefully hang her head, several glistening tears leaking dismally down her already damp features as she stared at her golden limbs, the scars littering their length.

The sound of hooves drawing closer rises her eyes back to the amber depths of her love, the compassion that gleamed in their depths astounding to the woman who, despite all that the pair had done for one another, still doubted that Psyche truly cared for her. Until this moment, it was never clear to Illynx that the love and loyalty she felt to the mare with the trinkets in her mane was anything other than one sided and selfish on her behalf.

"I could never kill you," she chokes out through the phlegm that has accumulated in her nasal passages and down her throat, her golden eyes so very sad and entirely revealing of what she felt inside of herself, for just once in her life. Her weakness shrouded her like a silver veil, and she gave not a single damn that others might see her this way. Her armor has been dismantled for none other than the woman in front of her, a final showing of her faith in their companionship, a gleaming omen of her love.

"I want to kill the rest of them for doing what they have done to you," meekly sounds her reasoning for her behavior, the fear of the truth in what Psyche had said burning behind the immediate glow of empathy she felt for the fallen Empress, "the mountain is an empty place without you. Perhaps it is more than just your absence. Perhaps it is the truth behind what has come to pass since that makes life seem so void and useless – that they do not love any but themselves." She pauses, swallows the truth now that it is out on the air.

She finds that she still resents the mare before her for talking of herself like she is nothing at all to be concerned over. The metallic flash grates its way back into her features as she hones her eyes in on her dearest friend, feeling the swelling of her lids but attempting to maintain ferocity despite her dismal appearance. "That does not make you any less of a queen. It makes them worth less than those we wish to rid the earth of," she smiles grimly, the wolfish aspects of the expression haunting in the hazy light of the grove, "You lost it during the battle of the Throat?" She asks as her eyes run up to the small stub of horn that remains on Psyche’s head, that strange smile still lingering on her features, having pieced it all together while attempting to regain her breath. "Would you have been there if not to defend them, their honor? I do not think so. You should be proud of what you have achieved – let the rest be ashamed for chasing so fine a creature from our ranks. I defended you," she says, letting the honestly spew forth from her pores, "I defended you even when none would rise to echo my words. To see you place yourself among the mud and insects makes my heart sour at the thought that I wasted so much breath to defend a woman who so quickly discards her pride."

Her nose angles back towards her side, the gruesome reminder of the deep hatred that had begun to grow in her veins for all the impudent and idiotic filth that were squandering her perfect mental image of the Aurora Basin. "Deimos has shown me what love he has for you. A training spar, none the less," she spat down at the earth, rancor finding it’s place among her quickly changing expressions, "but I view it as fear that my words are true, that he is a pretty statue wearing a handsome crown. What in Time’s ass were you thinking when you gave that moron your position, sister? All he’s managed to do is murder openly and assault those he lives with for no reason other than to compound his own self worth. You were never so selfish in your leadership, you gave so much weight to the consequences your actions would have on those around you."

A sigh slips from her, eyes finding her hooves again. "He cannot think of anyone but himself, and that is quite immense an observation coming from one such as myself. It will be the end of us, if he cannot even learn to resolve his issues with herd members in ways other than abuse of his magic."

Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#8
Ah, but if only the golden-laced femme understood that the loneliness never ended; if only the shadow-mare could explain that she felt no different in the wilds than she did amongst their kin. It was, perhaps, less lonely here, where she did not have to worry about gaining the allegiance of those who would follow her, where she did not have to pretend interest in alliances and battles and enemies. It was easier, yes, to get caught up in a cause that she had supported for so long. It was simpler to have something to fight for. But she was happier here, on her own, with no one to impress and no one to fear, no one to judge her actions or misdeeds. She had never lived for herself before; it was high time she learned how. Perhaps, if Illynx had understood that, they would have been able to band together as one. Perhaps that was as it should be.

But alas, the Empress would likely never know.

There is an ache where her heart would be, and it stems from the tears flowing freely down her friend's cheeks. She steps closer still, offering her muzzle for a gentle touch, offering comfort in a new and different way, not knowing what to expect from the gesture. It is something that she has only seen, never tried, and she half expects the mare to run her through with her horn. Illynx speaks prettily of the shade's time as ruler, her contempt for the position Psyche has assigned herself evident on her pretty features. Still, the jackal stands in silence, letting her friend berate her. In a way, she is right; Deimos would not have been her first choice for lead, but he was there, and she thought that his appointment would sit better with those she served for so long. Ironic, that she had sought to use her subjects, but in the end it was she who was their slave. It was really too bad that they hadn't seen that.

After a few moments' silence, she spoke again, trying to explain her position to the golden girl. "Darling, I appreciate that you stood up for me, though I don't deserve such praise. I never thought... well, you are more loyal, a far truer friend than I could have asked for. But you are mistaken, for you think I am wallowing in self-loathing and hiding in the woods out of self-pity, and that is not the case. I am happier, Illynx. Do you know how I was raised? Do you know that I cannot remember a single time that I have done anything for myself? I have given all my life to a cause that does not support me. I have given my soul to those who would take it and use it and keep asking for more. I am at peace here, my dear. Even without my horn, even if that makes me a hornless abomination, even if that places me at the top of their hit list, I am finding myself. Not who my father trained me to be, not who they asked me to be - who I want to be." She sighed, shaking her head, wishing that she could offer the fae the same escape.

"I can't be who I was, Illynx. Please don't ask it of me."

@[Illynx]

"Talk talk talk."

Image Credit

[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#9
She listens to her friend, most of the energy she’d had left when she came into the conversation lost to the length of her prior words. Her tears were wet and damp on her face, an ugly sensation that made her flesh tighten uncomfortably, and she was sure she didn’t look very elegant at this particular moment. The embrace on her flesh is welcomed rather than rebuked, though she still finds the comfort in it odd and mildly unnerving as she leans into the gentle caress; that she has panicked so deeply in the absence of her friend and proven how she feels of the woman doesn’t mean that she’s ready to let the world see them in such close contact.

They will think her weak, for needing this other mortal as deeply as she does.

Why she can’t just say this to Psyche is beyond her understanding. All she knows is that the words lodge in her throat; the closest she can come to is her vague description of the emptiness of the world the black mare had left behind.

She still does not agree entirely with her oldest companion, but she does sympathize with her in ways. The tales of their lives had woven together over the years, but she remembers what little the woman has shared with her like any true friend would. Nodding in correspondence with a life spent pleasing others, she finds herself aligned on the same path now; perhaps Psyche has lessons yet to teach her.

For one, she needed to be the Queen they needed, not this sobbing wreck crashing against the brittle and bleached bones of the life she had always wanted. Life wasn’t a toy; one couldn’t make it do as they pleased. That she had never accepted this is perhaps the deepest of her troubles, even while dealing with Psyche.

Was that why she was so upset? She sought to control the path that life chose to move on? Wasn’t she far too old and too wise to be foolishly redirecting a river far more powerful than she is?

"I will not allow them to harm you," she says in quick rebuttal of Psyche’s fears that she would become a member of the hunted; as well as she may, she will keep them away from her dearest friend, though it sours her heart to know that it is possible they will view the woman as an enemy now.

It is her turn to nuzzle softly upon her dearest, whatever comfort the touch could bring to the mare despite the broiling of her own soul.

Why had she come here to find the missing Empress was beginning to become lost on her. All of her troubles seemed so small in comparison to the train wreck that was the portrait Psyche had begun to paint for her, the image of her pristine Aurora Basin stained by acts of disloyalty and hatred. Even the Plague was being dissolved before her eyes; the words her friend shared imparted a feeling that the woman was well and done with that frame of her life.

"I ask you for nothing other than to remain you," she says, quite subdued, "forgive me for my waspish tongue. I feel as if I am falling into pieces and becoming lost on the wind. I believe you feel the same way, and so I will press you no more." She draws away from her ebony companion, her heart aching in her chest and her head pounding in threat of a headache to end all others.

"Just promise me you won’t ever leave me again like that," she asks of Psyche quite suddenly, her golden eyes returning to the woman’s face with a gleaming and vulnerable brilliance, "promise me… you will remain mine, even if the others can no longer have you."

Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#10
Later, she might thank the Reaper and his Engineer for their treatment of her. She might recognize that it had forced her to become someone she wouldn't have been otherwise. She might come to understand that her happiness sprung from the misery they had cause - and she was happy, or at least she was getting there. Her days away from the Basin had been lonely, but she had been able to relax. There were no eyes on her in the wilderness, no expectations of her. She did not have to be who they expected. She did not have to be anyone, if she did not choose to be. But here, now, with Illynx standing before her in a state of utter disarray, expressing what the Empress would once have considered a show of supreme weakness, she felt guilty for her choices. She felt that to be someone else was letting her friend down. She felt obligated to pick up the pieces.

But how was she to be someone she wasn't?

Well, it wasn't as though she didn't have plenty of practice.

"If I thought they meant to hurt me, they would never find me," she murmured absently, her gaze rolling over the delicate lines of Illynx's face. The GildedBlade's fears were well-founded - even before she had taken her leave of them, everything had begun to fall apart. Psyche had borne the weight on her own for so long - but now she was not there to take the brunt of the panic. Illynx would have been dumped headfirst into the midst of the turmoil that the Empress had so gladly left behind. Perhaps in shielding the golden girl, she had only served to harm her. The jackal frowned slightly, another apology bubbling from her throat. "I should have warned you." What she referred to was irrelevant, be it her actions or the disloyalty of those who would follow Illynx. It was all wrong. She had done poorly by her oldest friend, and she was beginning to see the toll it had taken on the pair of them.

She took a step forward, reaching to touch Illynx's muzzle with her own, should the mare allow it. Finally, a promise: "I won't leave you." It was all she needed to say.

@[Illynx]

"Talk talk talk."

Image Credit

[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#11
She smiles in reply to the first glimmer of her true friend since they had found one another in the grove, the threat twined with the nitwits who had thrown her to the wolves drawing a visceral grin to the soggy lips of the golden wench. Their bond had grown vastly because of such similarities in the two, their prides evenly matched and outweighed only by their taste for vengeance and the blood of their inferiors; the simple statement is enough to ease the concerns within the heart of the wretched woman that her dearest Empress has been broken by the foolish Engineer and his stoic accomplice.

She will not have to kill either of them, now, for her friend still remains within this brittle casing she has discovered. Though her horn is no longer whole, and her crown is worn upon the head of a traitor, her heart still burns as it always had. It nearly brings a tear of a joy to the eye of the Lady, but she has none left to spare; instead, she feels the expansion of her heart as hope refills the hollows where despair and loneliness had begun to take root.

”I should have warned you,” says Psyche, and her lips turn downward once more. How could she have warned her? Illynx knows she would not have listened, she would have argued the valor and greatness of the ebony woman and their horned kin; she had been naïve and blinded by the gleaming promise of her own dreams. Her darling could have warned her of nothing on such basis, but the sympathy is pleasant none the less. "I’d have listened?" she queries wryly, her small smile sad and echoed in the faint twinkle of sorrow in her eyes that crinkle in the gesture, a scant giggle dying almost as soon as it is born to the air.

She breathes in softly as the white emblazoned muzzle of her beautiful Dark Empress touches against her own, the soft smell of grasses and the musk of her decaying trinkets, her own unique odor borne of hormones and sweat. It is the smell of a simpler time, an era when all their dreams had been at a horn’s length, the world an empire for the taking, and her soul longs to return to such a period of her life.

They cannot do this, she knows; at least they still have each other. She hopes that Psyche does not lie, that this soft promise that touches her with a similar thrill to victory on the battlefield is true.

"You and I against the world, hmm?" she says softly, her lids pressed closed in delight of their simple touch, ears languid and loosely held upon her crown. Opening an eye and withdrawing from their embrace, she gently looks upon her friend with a faint awkwardness lining her features, though she tries to quickly cover it up with more inquiries as to the state of their former glory together. "First, we’ll need to get you fixed up," she smirks, playfully eyeing the broken remnants of the once proud and jagged crown of the Empress before returning her eyes to that of her friend, her usually devious smile broad and delightful on her face, "and then, we’ll see about this deplorable state of affairs that we seem to have found ourselves in. We’ll see if we can’t find what will make you happy."

She surely hopes it involves restructuring all of Helovia into a unicorn utopia, the throne of which maintained by herself and her darling Empress; but if such things are not plausible, she is sure she will be quite satisfied simply knowing that they will discover whatever it else it may be together.
@[Psyche]
Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#12
The shadow-mare smiled wryly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. There was something indescribably sad hidden in their depths, but it was perhaps not discernible to most. Her golden-laced friend would not have listened to her warnings, even if she had known then what she knew now. Even if she had tried. In all likelihood, Illynx would have merely looked at her as though she had grown a second head and told her to stop drinking the spring-water, that it was messing with her mind. Truth be told, she had never trusted the hot springs - can you imagine drinking the water where others had bathed?

She felt empty, drained, as though all of the emotion that had flooded her system had washed her clean, made her pure - but purity was the last trait the shade would ever be able to claim. No, she had done too much wrong, given in to too much sin, and there were many in these lands who would never forgive her. She didn't blame them. She deserved their hatred, after all that she had given them in kind. But she was glad to know that Illynx, at least, remained on her side. For now. One day, she knew, she would betray the mare's trust, if only because she was not the cruel Empress she had once been. She could put on the mask, she could be a wonderful actress, if it meant retaining the GildedBlade as hers... but deep down, she knew it could not last. She knew she wasn't the same, and her heart ached for the deception.

"You and I... I and you... us," she agreed with a playful smirk. Let the games begin. "But no... I won't change my horn. Let them see what I have become, and let them fall before me as I am. I won't hide from it." There it was, the hint of darkness lurking at the edges of her mind, ever waiting, ever watchful for the day she let down her guard and again took up her old mantle. Would it be easier to pretend to be that unicorn? Would it be easier to fall back into old habits?

Would she be happier?

Or could she forge a new path?

One day, she would find out.

@[Illynx]

"Talk talk talk."

Image Credit

[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.


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