Rhaja
May 7th, 2012 at 4:33pm

A knife was buried deep inside of her heart. She had fled her home, to
escape the perdition that had bred there. Diseased mindsets spread
like fire, a plague sent upon the earth for a simple purpose; to
disperse ignorance, and to shadow the truth in an undying umbra of
poisonous contentment. She was about to flee. But the night before she
left, as she slept, her home was raided by the disciples who knew she
would leave, and tell the world of their flaws. She fought as hard as
she ever remembered. She spilled the blood of the so called innocent,
but when they slaughtered her children, she flew into a furious rage
that devastated everything around her, and everyone who had sought to
ruin everything she worked to build. She murdered every single raider
there, and strewn about the scene was nothing but the bloodied ground
and torn flesh. Covered in the crimson liquid of her enemies, she took
to the skies, tears falling from her enraged gaze as the wind stung
her once beautiful visage.

Upon these lands, there was a sense of deceptive peace. It was as
though the breath of solitude and serenity was but a lie, strengthened
by the determined faith of those who sought falsity over truth. The
truth, remained, that the world was filled with nightmares. Rhaja was
one of those nightmares, carved from the tragedy that had instilled
with her a need to not only defend herself, but to rule, to ravage the
land with all that her fury entailed, and lead the world into the
damnation that had nestled deep in the abyss of her aching heart. She
longed for her children. She longed for the life she once had. But
never would she show it, for a new chapter in her existence had began.
This harmony, this concordance, would never last; would it be she who
would wrench it from its sacred niche and transform its loverly
tranquility into something ugly and infernal? Furious, violent, deeply
disturbed, she wandered, long and far, into the strange domain, and
further, ever so much further, into her mind, a disease in the making,
waiting to spread.

---

Mirage
May 9th, 2012 at 10:27pm

There was a curious trail of thoughts drafting a path through the
membrane of the obsidian mare. Dreams and ambitions rose to the
surface, memories of what once was hoped to be achieved by a filly so
young and naïve. But looking over those thoughts again with the
experiences that she had of the world, they didn’t seem so silly. What
do you think Akaith? The words were hardly thought, more emotive and
silent in nature. In response, the sense of pride and trust welled up,
with a small snippet of thought being sent back. Anything is possible,
and you are capable of anything. The mare smiled inwardly to her
dragon, comforted by the trust, and hoping that she would be able to
inspire others to feel the same way. Would they follow her?

Peace was non-existent. The ability to co-exist while respecting the
balance of chaotic love, life and death was the closest reality to
peace one could ever hope to achieve. Understanding that to live,
others needed to die – this precious reality we lived in could sustain
only a finite number of souls at any given time. The obsidian maiden
understood this, and strived to mark this realm with her presence for
as long as possible – whether physically or through the memories of
others. Nares drank the environment around her, she was upon the
Threshold once more, this time with more in mind than simple games –
though of course they would be had too. The metallic tint of blood
curled her lips, she was not one to relish in bloodshed but understood
its necessity in some situations. War games were child’s play to this
devious creature, she and her dragon had much larger roles to play in
this world of chaos.

“Weary traveller,” The voice spoken is bodiless, though perhaps a
shimmer or a shadow could be spied if one’s eyes were sharp enough and
looking in the right direction. Golden orbs peered at the crimson
stained mahogany coat, eyeing the curve of the wings by her side,
noting the fatigue that the one before her ignored so very well.
Mirage spotted similarities in this maiden that she knew she herself
possessed; stubbornness, a will to live, and the same understanding of
the workings of the world. There were of course a thousand
differences, but perhaps it would be these similarities that would
forge a potential friendship – an ally for things to come. The
accented harmony broke through the trees again, this time the raven
mare dropped her illusion and stepped forth, expression guarded and
respectful. “You needn’t walk much farther should you wish to find
refuge.”

She offered the snippet of information freely, halting before the
other smoothly. “Though perhaps refuge is not all you seek – enlighten
me if you will, and I will see what can be done for you.” The
glittering golden companion that was the dragon Akaith flitted about
the canopy above them, her bodice obscured by the many leaves and
branches one would encounter should they try to climb directly to her.
Patient as a statue and moving as little as one, the raven mare
awaited a response, any response, from the bay Pegasus whose eyes
gleamed like crimson droplets of blood.