The girl is more fragile than she alludes to; through all the smiles and capricious banter, she feels the need to have those smiles returned. Surely, her new found home has provided her with much more confidence than her dark beginnings first supplied her – she is no longer a grasping and greedy creature, a seductive minx of a woman using her curves to pave the way to greatness.

But she still has needs.

The most curious of effects Helovia has had on her is perhaps that of her attitude towards life. Once quite ambitious (dangerously so), she is now satisfied to follow the path laid before her, one which promises to bring treasures and knowledge that could never have been found in the land of her birth. She will always remember (possibly thank) the fires that chased her here; the bleak and ash ridden sky rising above the torrential horizon, glowing ruddy reds and yellows against the strength of nature that swallowed all her memories up in one great and vicious roar of power.

If the fires had not have threatened her life so greatly, perhaps she might have stayed to watch the Cathedral burn into ashes. It was, after all, a mark so saturated in sin and blasphemy that she found it quite hard to think of here in this land of magic. The world in which the Cathedral existed was simple, lack luster in comparison; a world of wolves feeding upon lambs, with no shepherd to save them from the clutches of their terror.

Her family were the wolves, the biggest and baddest of them all. It is hard to believe this while meeting the angel for the first time, but it is true – she is born from a long line of hatred and malevolence, a true princess born to a long line of powerful and devilish rulers.

If you’d ever met her brother, you’d understand. Kahlua is nothing like any of her brothers, to be honest – she is more of her mother, an untainted and pure version of what Krystal Nacht might have been had she followed a different path through life. The queen has passed on her beauty and grace to her daughter, this is undeniably true. A painted form to mimic that of her dam, her heart golden and pure as all good leader’s hearts should be; Krystal had not been truly evil. She had just been old, haggard, jaded by the world of death and dismay that sprawled around her.

Krystal had not been given the flames of freedom as Kahlua had.

It does pain her to think of her family, of the father she never knew (murdered the eve of she and Fuhrer’s birth) and the too ancient to be birthing children queen that had raised them for their first two years. She too had died – murder also, by jealous kin who sought to wear the old woman’s crown, though he (her half sibling, the perpetrator) would have been better off to wait another season for nature to take its course.

The queen had been reaching her 23rd year of life. She was old and bound to wither off the vine soon, anyway – had Kahlua the mind to think of anything, she would find herself quite blessed to have ever been born at all. Goodness knows her twin understands these things.

I suppose that is why he has had very little to do with her, even before they were separated by the disasters that befell their home. In all honesty, while he had never shared his views with his sister, he felt a deep love that was overshadowed only by his desire to see her dead.

Such were the roots of the girl’s life.

She is standing outside the Edge, looking in. The wall that she and her friends have built together stands proud, makes her own heart grow in size to mimic its mass. She thinks of very little other than the fond memories she has of making the thing – delving into herself, pondering her past, looking to the future and genuinely planning, these things were beyond her. All she had was what she could pull up in images in her mind, and this day, she recalled the sun gleaming overhead as Mirage’s dragon form moves whole trees as if they are merely bunnies, the wall appearing section by section before her as the others toiled away to clear the way for the build.

”Kahlua?” comes her name, and the familiar voice tugs her ear back, but she refuses to be made immediately depressed by the sound of Dragomir as she had been back then during the weeks of wall building.

Turning her features to greet him, a blooming and glorious grin upon her face, she is immediately smacked in the face with a ghost. Her lips fall downwards into a frown of shock, jaws numbly grinding at the air as she stares into the deep green eyes… of her sibling.

He is smiling, cool and reposed as he always has, his larger and more muscular frame a spitting image of his fathers build. Littered across his pelt, thousands of speckles and dots can be seen, and on their viewing she remembers a fun game they once played, in which she had attempted to count them all.

It turned out Kahlua couldn’t count very high. But that didn’t matter now, did it?

“Fuhrer?!” she manages to choke out, and the laughter that rumbles deeply from his throat is the same mocking sound that she has missed all these years that they have been apart. Truly, for much of it they were in the same kingdom – but so simple is the girl that she has not even noticed that he dislikes her so deeply, that he comes and goes from her life to use her as a mirror which defines all the ways in which he has not failed.

”No, the ghost of seasons past,” he jibes in her direction, shuffling about on powerful limbs so that he arrives alongside her, their shoulders gently touching. He must admit to himself, standing her in contact with the girl who had shared the womb with him, that there is comfort in her touch.
Kahlua merely stares quite blankly at him for a while, trying to blink the hallucination out of her eyes up until that spotted shoulder brushes against her. That he is really here has just dawned on her – and no wall in the world could contain the eruption of enthusiasm that rises from her as she begins to bob and jiggle in amusement, jostling her brother’s weight with her own as she chattily breaks open the ice. “Oh, Fuhrer! I had thought you had died!” she half sobs in exaltation, though the man is as stalwart and unmoving as he has always been, the partial frown rising to his lips at her usual bubbly nature only driving her enthusiasm all the more, “There was the fire and I was so afraid. I ran, I didn’t think to come find you. I am sorry, I am so very sorry that I just left you like that. I am so very glad that you have come to fi-”

He cuts her off with a short and barking laugh that echoes into the misty wood before them, his lack of fear evident in his stance and the noise that he makes along side her. Unlike his sister, he is clever enough to know when he is somewhere that could potentially be dangerous – but this was obviously her home. The forest and the figure of his sibling both smelled identical, and so he feared very little for repercussions in such a meeting place. ”I am not staying, sister,” he says, looking to her with that oh-so-serious expression that she has never understood or been able to mimic, ”I am coming through looking for my children. I have tracked Lycan and Luna this way. Perhaps, if you have found home here, the others are in this place also.”

She didn’t remember who it was he was talking about. She didn’t care. All that mattered to her was that her brother was back, better than back! He was standing next to her! Bouncily she circled around towards the front of him, looking him square in the eyes – which set him mildly off guard. Where was his coy and flirtatious sister?

This was even worse than the man eater he’d abandoned back in Avalon.

“But brother! You could stay here! I have made lots of friends, and am an important part of the herd beyond this wall here. I built the wall, brother,” she showers out, and he looks long and hard at her before stepping away from the close proximity of her face.

He admires the craftsmanship of the wall before him; it is perhaps the first time he has done anything to appease his much too needy twin.

And he cannot argue that it is beautiful, that her offer is tempting – to remain in the safety of this place, so peaceful and serene. But he has also seen the stranger creatures that wander here – he was relatively sure he’d passed a wolf horse on his way west, and that mere coincidence in combination with the pressing need to find his harem and flock of foals made him turn his gaze back to his sister.

His face is a cold mask again, as he turns to continue walking westward. ”It’s pretty. I’m glad you’ve found a home,” whether he means it or not escapes both the siblings, staring blankly at each other over the rounded curvature of Fuhrer’s bodacious ass, ”but unlike you, I acquired my responsibilities long ago, and I must honor what I have already done.”

He looks down to his hooves, the white tufts that branch off of his ankles dragging along the crisp, autumnal blanket on the earth. Kahlua is left with a beaming smile at his complements, but as with all good things Fuhrer brought to her, it is quickly wiped away and replaced with a few glimmering and truly heart broken tears.

She had finally found him, or he had found her – and he was going to just… leave?!

“But I have missed you!” she almost pleads, following him the few paces he was wandered forward to press her nose hard into the fold of his neck and shoulder; much to her surprise, she feels his weight return the gesture, his own muzzle wrapping about to touch lightly on the opposite side to which she touched. “I have thought of you often, of what befell our kingdom -”

”MY KINGDOM!” he irately shouts at her, his gentle touch removed and replaced with an indignant snarl that hovers beside her, ”you did nothing but try to fuck every big wig in the vicinity. I chose to lead, I have bled for our people. The kingdom that burned down was mine. It was my responsibility to protect them!” Stalking away from her several paces, his black and white lashes viciously behind him, striking his sides hard enough to raise welts to the surface as he spins around savagely to glare down on his sister.

The gentle pout and expulsion of tears that he is confronted with, however, softens his demeanor. By her expression, it is obvious that Kahlua understands her brother’s feelings – though he wouldn’t describe them as such, what Fuhrer was suffering from were feelings of love and loss.

How very wise she is in comparison to Fuhrer, in so many ways. If only Kahlua was smart enough to articulate this, perhaps she and her brother might have been much closer than they actually are.

”I am sorry,” he says gruffly, ”but I cannot stay.”

She nods, the tears steady and silent as they fall down her face. She understands that he cannot come home with her, that their story is once again to branch out in separate directions – but he is alive. That comfort alone is enough for the once weak mare to become strong in the face of this terrible loneliness.

It surprises her brother when she does not argue, that slow nod an image he will cherish within himself for years to come – his sister is growing up, something he was afraid she would never be able to do.

“Go then, and be safe,” mourns the woman already, looking at him with her delicate and compassionate gaze, eyes that burn through his skin and touch down into his inky black heart. He has never been able to remain stone while near her. Never. “Come back to this forest, if you can. I would like to know you.”

He nods, his own emotionless way of saying goodbye, though deep within himself he feels his heart flinch against turning away from the only familiar face he’d seen since heading out on his search for his woman and myriad children.

Kahlua takes note, for once, of the fine lines of anguish that mark her brother’s normally unreadable face, and it settles well in her heart that he will be back, someday – the fine benefits of being one’s twin.

“”

As hot as fire, cold as ice,
Sweet as sugar and everything nice.

As deep as a bite, as dark as the night,
As sweet as a song, as right as a wrong.

I don't know where I am or how I ended up here. Where ever here is. My hooves clack on black stone and these things swerve around me, screaming and honking like geese, but they are not geese. I hear squeals and shouts, ohhs and ahhs, and when I turn I see hairless, two-legged things that look like apes. They speak to one another in a language that I don't understand and they begin to crowd around me. Another one of the goose things flies past and nearly hits me. It swerves and I hear a loud crash as it slams into another goose thing. They honk again and the hairless monstrosities walk closer and all at once I lower my head and lunge at one of them. Its slow and my horn pierces its chest. There are more screams and the thing I've just stabbed collapses and my head is yanked down with it and stays that way until I work my horn free and spin around, my ears laying flat against my head and my eyes daring them to come closer again.

They all stand back, but they've formed a circle around me and have caged me in like I'm some kind of animal. I am no animal. I am Illynx. I am a queen. I've conquered and I've ruled in my domain. I lunge again and they retreat. I flick my tail, arch my neck, and trot in a wide circle and they gape at me because I am Illynx and I am beautiful. A gap opens in their ranks and I stop and turn to face several of them who have come forth, cloaked in black with shiny knickknacks attached to their chests and heavy belts slung around their apish waists. One by one they point a strange looking object at me and my head tilts to the side. It makes a loud zap! and I retreat back several steps, but they've already stung my and my body freezes, my muscles lock, and I collapse onto the black rocky ground in the middle of this circle they've formed around me. My eyes roll back in my head and my last thought before everything goes black is that they're going to eat me.

When I wake I am a prisoner, confined in a small cage. Through the bars I can see throngs of the hairless monstrosities gawking at me, asking questions to one another in their third world language. They poke at me when they come close enough to the cage they've confined me in. I do manage to bite a couple of fingers and it is at this point that I wish for the jaws of a snapping turtle so I could remove the appendages and spit them back out at the beasts. I get jabbed again and the same feeling that overcame me when I collapsed earlier overcomes me again and the world goes black.

Again, I am awakened, but this time I am not in a cage. I try to bolt, but my legs are shackled and I cannot move faster than a walk and I am strapped to something that only lets me move in circles. My head is locked in a position that leaves my neck arched uncomfortably. I try to break my restraints, but I am too weak. Music begins to play, loud and obnoxiously, and more of the hairless things file in and sit to watch the freak show that is happening in this .... hell hole. The little ones have gathered around me and are asking if I'm real. Of course I am. I am a fucking queen. They beg and plead with the idiot that has locked me to this confounded thing. One by one they are placed on my back and I am forced to walk in endless circles until they all go home.

Then it starts over the next day.

My name is Illynx and I am a side show freak at a thing called a circus.


@[Illynx]
hope you like it!

It's cold.

I am cold.

All around me I have built a barrier to protect myself from the outside world. I hide behind a layer of lies, a layer that I have built so carefully throughout my life. I live as anyone would, trying to push the past away from their heads. I try as hard as I can to forget certain pieces of my past, but tonight that portion decides to take my mind over. While I sleep, my lids closed over lavender orbs.

Pathetic.

His voice echoes through my mind as his brows are narrowed, his stern gaze has changed. He appears infuriated as he towers above me, my mother laying there, her face blank. He turns to her as though to bring his hooves upon her skull, end her pointless life. She had not given him was he desired. He wanted a strong, healthy colt to carry upon his shoulder's father's legacy. Upon seeing me he was angered, frustrated with himself and with my dam. It seemed like he wanted to destroy me, end my life here and now. But he holds off, just standing there. I'm whimpering, shivering as my mother does nothing to care for me. She leaves me there for minutes, no signal that she was even alive. Her gaze was glazed over, her sides heaving gently. The scene fades into the shadows, my vision blurred as the world swirls around me.

Pathetic.

The boys snicker as I walk, thinking that a filly was something pathetic. I would show them, I know I would. I have yet to prove myself to anyone, but I would do it. Today was a special day, all because it was the beginning of my training, a big day for me. Father stands, a devilish smirk upon his lips. He does not talk, instead, he launches at me. I panic for a moment before realizing I have to fight him. Inhaling deeply, I prepare myself. We fought, our battle was vicious. My father was strong and massive, he could have easily killed me. But he didn't. Something inside of him must have warned him that killing him would be a big set back in our lineage. So he trained me, forced me to sweat just as hard as the colts. He may have made me work even harder, just to prove them that his lineage was the greatest. Just as he stands with a proud look on his face, he disappears. Wind carries away the black mist in which he has faded to.

Pathetic.

At the newly turned age of two, I stand proud beside my father. Beneath my breast I feel fear creep through me. I am a bachelorette, there are tens of bachelors around me. I am a scrap piece of prey surrounded by vultures. I can tell they all crave my body, the way their hungry eyes devour my curves. I swallow, afraid to see who will win me. My fathers says few words, just that the most honorable stallion shall have me. Days went by, and yet I stand as the scene evolves around me. Fights and screams, blood is laid before my hooves. Finally a stallion emerges victorious, his features faded, long forgotten. The time of day changes to night, and there we are, embracing one another. Was it in my heart that I felt love? Had it been love that I felt during that sweet, sweet night? No.

Pathetic.

All around me the world revolves, and I am struck with pain. Sweat pours down my body as I fall into labor, screams whipping through the night's eerie silence. My throat is hoarse as I cry, the pain unbearable. I had faced many wounds, fought many horses, dealt with so much pain. But it was as if all the wounds I have suffered have gathered all at once, sending me through a phase of screaming and thrashing. I can feel the being that had been growing inside of me slipping free now. I was going to be free of these chains, these horrible chains that kept me away from the adrenaline of battle. A small smile crosses my lips before the last push helps the child break free, the last of my strength used to look at the little thing and begin licking it. I should have known something was wrong with it. The way it lay there limply, I should have known. It took me an hour or so to realize why it didn't move. I was frustrated and afraid. Out of pure rage is scream, "Move dammit!" But the child, my progeny, is dead. It does not bother to listen to my cries, my body shaking as I sob over my lost child. I do not bother to check its gender, I bother not to name it. I drag it away from the herd and bury it alone, trying to gather myself.

I'm not pathetic.

I am Agrona, I have a family, a family I love. A family that loves me.

I stand now in the present, surrounded by those I care for. My family, the ones not related by blood but by heart, by choice. They are all smiling, enjoying a good time. A dead animal is being tossed among the girl, Amara and her dog, Seele and Eris surveying their herd. Oxy is slumped against a tree, his lips freshly colored in green from his leaves. Circuta and Ghost lurk there in the shadows, shallow smirks upon their soft kissers. Merikh growls while Histe kicks an innocent horse's body, entrails spread throughout the area. Reizend simply hums, the only who isn't corrupt in this entire herd. Vulture stands beside Arlo, the two of them surveying the interaction. I stand and smile, exhaling. Family. Walking forward, I enter the herd and allow myself to nod my head to the Ladies. I halt then and there, my head turning. There is a blind little child, the white on his coat shifting to show images and colors. For a moment my own deceased child stands beside him, smiling. Everything freezes around me, nothing else mattered as I stare at my stillborn child. No. I tell myself, watching the child fade away. I was safe now, able to release the breath in my lungs I had been holding.

Tagged: I got @[Agrona]. And freakin' name confusions man. :I Almost tagged Angora like, 5 times. XD Anyway, hope ya like it :D <3
"Speak." Walk walk

Was there no instruction manual for this thing? He had stumbled upon the orb quite by accident, guarded as it was by a strange spirit, but it was his now. He had won, whatever that meant. He stood now where he had been given it, on the edges of the Deep Forest. In the late afternoon light, the orb glowed dimly, nestled in the decaying leaves that carpeted the ground.

For a while, the large stallion had considered crushing it, squashing the little life that had barely even begun to live. He wondered what sort of mess it would make – it was a strange little thing. Not quite an egg, not quite… anything really. Would it just pop or was there already something alive in there, growing and searching for a way to crack the surface?

He knew there was, or would be, a companion inside of it. Or rather, he had been told about it but he certainly did not mind going about as if he had knew all along. A companion! A creature that would have its soul bound to his and would be his other half, his little soul mate in another body.

The idea was laughable.

It all seemed rather sentimental and he saw no reason to get himself tangled up in anything along those lines. He roughly nudged the orb with his black nose, knocking it against some rocks before placing a hoof on the orb – pressing down with just enough pressure until he heard a small crack. Sentimentality was weak. Connections should exist for his benefit, if they needed to be made at all. Small little things, here and there: allies for the meantime or tools that he could use in the future for his own ambitions. Of those he had plenty, this land was ripe with buggers to kill and annoying little voices that should be silenced.

But then, perhaps there were benefits to having a companion. It could come in handy, here and there. A smaller creature that shared his mind, that could run and perform various little errands for him. It might even be a tactical advantage, especially if it could fly.

Oh yes there were certainly benefits.

Not enough, though. With a decisive motion and a flash of excitement in his bright yellow eyes, he focused his entire weight onto the little orb – crumpling the casing and the little thing within it. It gave a little squeak, and when he moved away his leg it twitched still.

It. was. ugly.

Of course, the damage inflicted did not help – that was probably an improvement over its natural state. It was an odd little creature. Half wolf, half Egyptian vulture. A creature that would have been fearsome to behold had it been able to grow into itself. But that was not going to happen. No drawn out, pathetic little life for the pitiful thing. It breathed in shaky breaths – undoubtedly there were some serious internal bleeding to pair nicely with the shattered bones. If he left it now it wouldn’t take too long to finish itself off, probably even before the sun slipped underneath the horizon to finish off the day.

But where was the fun in that? He wanted to feel the rest of the life pop right out of the bloody little mess. Another meeting with his hooves, plus a couple more hurried stomps for good measure, ensured that there was nothing left of the funny little creature.

The buzzards would be along soon, though there was little left to make into a meal.

Well, now that that had been taken care of – it was time to move on. A small, proud smirk twisted at his features as he left the site – not even casting a second glance back. The incident, undoubtedly, would give him pleasant dreams that night and then be forgotten.

There had never been anyone that Krieger could depend on other than himself – and that fact was never going to change.


ooc: Yay! Finally all done! I got @[Krieger] and he's a fair bit different than what I normally write so it was a bit of a challenge ;) but still fun to do! Merry Christmas dear! Hope you like it :)

Krieger