the Rift

In the darkness of my dark-beating heart, I know

Vincent Posts: 32
Stallion :: Equine :: 19.0 :: 10 Buff: NOVICE
Claribel :: Irish Wolfhound :: None Sparrow

   I know I cannot control the rapidness of my chest. My heart wobbles there, balancing on a hot needle while my chest caves to ungodly heights. There in my black ribcage, are the pattering pressures that damn me. I cannot tell you how many times I've tried to resist.

   Her grey essence drags me by my forelimbs, moonlight staring me blank in my face, seeing through my yellow eyes, to lies that mock me. She knows. Celestial bondage bandages my effort. I know she's calling. Her eyes are in the moon: steely craters that whisper damnation in the gale. She is somewhere calling, and I cannot resist, though my heart may give to the withering heights if I do. But each dinner-plate hoofbeat crawls farther towards her siren stare. Beckoning. I tremble as my legs attempt to buckle beneath my massive hulk, but my eyes drive me onward, tranced by haphazard in the moonlight. I can only think of my brother while I walk. I can only imagine his matching eyes to lead me on home because none are as good, none are as true as Archibald.

   I am returning myself to the devil and her dogs.

   I can stop, but I won't. Justice is not one of those things that you can ignore. And I will not ignore the wrong I've birthed. There were more elegant ways to rip the Sentinel's bridle from his face and gloriously tie the glowing prize to newborn Knox. It was a way to secure his greatness. The Sentinel's child, born beautiful and willing, ready to undergo his training. He would drink his father's ambrosia, learning to suckle his mother appropriately. Learning that she was his only pedestal to greatness. I wronged them. I left Knox and my mother to themselves in the woodland.

   I will die, eagerly. I have accepted death's hands in mine, but only if my last breath is done right. I will not betray my mother's bidding. I will only allow the greatest to take my life. I can only imagine someone dauntless. I can only imagine my twin. He will strike his hoof to my face so my life may delicately pass, and my nostrils spew blood. I may die notoriously, readily, so my mother will not grieve much. I sacrifice myself tonight.

   But in my heart, the desire of mortality pushes in the chest, thrumming deeply, sorrowful, desperate to turn and leave - gallop back into the outskirts where I could at least be free. The battle drags on, and fear encases me. I should die this way because the guilt is eating me. I know that the quicksilver goddess watches from everywhere. She is too great to only see through her physical eyes.

   I draw to a halt, and open my eyes to the moon's harvest stare, heart ticking faster as I imagine my last breath once more. I am here atop the infamous ravine, watching the moon glow with a familiar tinge at the gates of Helovia, looking for my family to slay me as they should. I know that this is my last chance to turn back.

   But it does not matter what I know.

Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time

watch the scythe usher me astray
                A B R A H A M                </style>

Abraham, child of darkness, brother of sin, hellion prince, walked proud back to his home. Gripped in his jaw, in the space between his teeth where a man's bit would fit the damned, rested the handle of the woven basket of beach treasure. Inside the basket, nestled with the natural flotsam and jetsam of the deep, alluring sea, was a tiny egg, glowing in the cracks like a jewel in the night. Truly, what the colt carried was a treasure, and he would protect it with his life. His steps were high, feathered hooves that were already growing large, prancing on the loam. He was in search of his family to show them his newest treasure, and his search brought him to the helm of the Threshold. The colt had never been this far towards his parents' old home, and he knew naught of the stories this ancient realm held.

His prance turned into calculated steps, head lowering as his ears flicked around wildly atop his dark head. His mismatched eyes scanned the area of the looming trees, reaching out with their pine claws to run over his thickening coat. He wished to find his family soon, to feel the protection and strength their presence was. It was then that he saw something in the distance shift--a shadow of a massive, hulking creature, and he knew only one creature of the behemoth size: his father. His heart fluttered for a second before he took off at a canter that gained balance daily. He nearly forgot about the basket of seaweed in his teeth when he opened his mouth to neigh, "FATHER!". The sound was cut short as he clamped his lips closed again to keep the basket from falling. His egg needed safety. The basket, and the nest inside, kept it safe from jostling as he cantered towards the shadowy horse.

Abraham came to a stop, his heart beating crazily, and he set the basket down. He was on the side of the equine he believed fully to be his father, and he threw his head, not making eye contact with the creature. He was too excited, too childish in his wonder, to pay close enough attention to realize this equine was not the Dauntless. "Father! I traveled to the beach! There were so many horses there, some with wings I had never seen before, some with horns like me and some without, like you. None were as big as you, because none are as great. Father! There was this shiny thing--an egg--that everyone was gathered around. I knew I needed it as soon as I saw it. I had never seen anything like it before, and it called to me! Finally, this weird animal popped out of the ocean and started talking to us--it was the keeper of the object--and he gave it to me! He made this basket! I had to gather the things inside to keep it safe and warm, and, Father, he told he it was a baby dragon inside! Father, I have a dragon!"

Abraham was talking rapidly, growing body shaking with the excitement in his heart. During his speech he had jumped to the front of his believed-father, closing his eyes and tossing his crowned head happily. He made haphazard gestures towards the resting basket, until, finally, in his last sentence he made eye contact with the molten gold. It was as if the word crashed down around him, for the equine before him of monstrous proportions, was not Archibald. The colt swallowed hard, ears falling back into the thick of his dark mane, and he scrambled to stand defensively over his egg in the basket.

"Who are you, deceiver!?" The talent the child held for his breath to come out in happy bliss one second and angry ice the next was only a gift given from his parents. The child's odd eyes darkened and narrowed, and he remembered Circe's training in the forest. Carefully, the child tucked his chin and aimed his horn for the slab of muscle in front of him. "Speak your name, face-stealer!"

background by:

Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down

pixel by tamme

Vincent Posts: 32
Stallion :: Equine :: 19.0 :: 10 Buff: NOVICE
Claribel :: Irish Wolfhound :: None Sparrow

   I am finally home-bound. I stand between the eerily shaped, swaying silhouettes of sparse forest, eyes peering ahead into the quicksilver, waning moonlight. It fills the area like smoke from a distant forest fire and I'm caught up, smothered mentally, wishing with every drop of blood in my body that I can wheel on my haunches and get the hell away from Heloiva. Long shudders send me into a vibrational attack, and my eyes widen until black, gold, and white are visible. I feel glazed in this stare between the moon and I. Between Mandrake and I. She, the silent devil continues to pull at my conscious, sending me deeper into myself, wishing on a star somewhere that I will soon be slain. I imagine my twin’s hoof will be the sweetest touch across my cheekbone, the most beautiful hour of my own slipping life. What a beautiful pity it would be, sleeping away in the coming time.

   I face the solemn gusts as they pool in, Orangemoon leaves tousling in their grace. This is a nice last sight, I think, feeling my sweaty, anxious mane lift in the breeze. Numb thoughts have come and gone, but never have they been so soft, so pleasing. I've come to myself. I've opened my last door. I face the choice of walking through, entering the Threshold walls for the last time, seeing the golden eyes of my twin and then the crooning light of Neique. All in one moment. All in one decision. All in one swift shift of brain neurons.

   I can't do it, I think again, remembering the gentle touch of the Orangemoon breeze, the comforting hideaway of my season-long stay. It's not that the world has ever been nice to me. It's not that I deserve to stay — I'm afraid to go. But there is the question ringing freely in my mind, a lit dove in morning light, which stands away from my confusion and my forlorn thoughts. I wonder how many other sons lay dead in Mandrake's name? How many before the inseparable twins, Archibald and I, walk this gracious Loorien, to spread around more of our scummy lineage? How many more of us have been baptized in our father's blood, and sipped his features onto our own? What kind of curse consumes the more of us that have survived her tenacious spider web and escaped on God given wings of strength and valor? What kind of gift am I returning?

   With light in my eyes, I see out clearly now the closeness insecurity bid me, I see my own ambiguous fortune in the moon's sinister face. The hours surely seem long and telling of what ghouls reap ahead in the Helovian woods if the sun may rise to light their faces.

   But instead of ghastly beasts, out bounds a youthful spirit, laden with mischief and surprise of a familiar bearing. I leap backwards over the hill, hind end screaming to wheel, tail tucking, eyes widening. I quite literally shake the ground. Windswept strands bounce into my eyes and my body is more tense than tall. But the creature, low to the ground, keeps coming, yelling all the way. He’s seen me, I am his target. I must stand my ground, I think while planting feathered stockings into the soil. He’s just a kid. But who truly knows what he possess?

   My body shakes in its cage, rooted somehow to the earth as everything I know tells me to run. From what I see of its nearing shape, it’s a foal, harmless in youth. But it reminds me of Konx and the sins that taint him, that will pull him further down the continuous grooves of life’s throat. He’s carrying something.

   Hopefully it’s something I can impale myself on.

   But as he nears, I see that he's holding a woven basket, tightly wrapped in folds of green seaweed lays an egg. I stand taller than most youthful trees, but I cannot trust the possibility of what creature inside may forsake the world. It looks ancient. It looks valuable. It looks cursed.

   But all the while, as I stare haplessly into this basket, he's talking through proud eyes and over-joyous recognition of some kind. I'm still shaking, and I back away form him, feeling terror slip into my eyes as his tone instantly changes. His tiny, oddly colored eyes narrow and his horn aims directly at my throat. I fall back onto my hind, wheeling in the air as the razor-tip glints in Mandrake's moonlight glow, landing on hooves with a shake of the earth. My body stiffens, sidestepping through his assault of mature words, and they sting like bees on my hide.

   I think I should let him stab me.

   "Speak your name, face-stealer!"

   "Vincent!" I halt abruptly, molten eyes thickening, falling into the routine of his command. I don't remember what he called me, but it made me think of Archibald. I stand, silent, ready for his next command.

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