the Rift


[PRIVATE] Wash Rags

Circe Posts: 101
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 5 Buff: NOVICE
M.E.
#1
Circe


There was pain, but it was hazy—just asall things were in the darkness. The ground swayed before her, the stars buzzed to and fro across her eyes, gnats to the moonless sky; her hide shivered away from her bones, her muscles melted and even her horn felt askew. The ground rocked everywhere; it pitched underneath her, and Circe would’ve been sure she was about to drown in the sea she dared walk upon, had she lacked the last vestiges of sense that told her she did still preside over solid ground.

Circe groped in the dark, her desires vague and her fears even foggier; she wanted her sons, to search them out in the dark, to make sure they still remained cloaked in the protection of the branches. Yet how could she go about finding them, when the starlight itself eluded her perception? They whirled around her, the stars and comets above, and even if some miracle of navigation descended on her shoulders, would she dare present herself to her children this way? She remembered the pale moon, some time ago, the permeating stink of her indiscretion—had she truly learned nothing from that encounter. Her heart ached, just as her stomached roiled with every clumsy step, her innards stinging with some subtle shame and the boil of wants and needs, demands and desires that she could not untangle. The shadowmere wanted to leave this place, to be done with it, to gallop drunkenly into the moonless shadow—yet how should her sons follow, when they laid there, sleeping? She wanted to find them and hold them close, to whisper her apologies into their soft, downy, growing ears—yet how should she find them, when the very ground pitched beneath her hooves, trying to throw her? Her blood ran icy cool some moments, boiling thickly in the others, craving more sweat, something heavier than the little blue jay’s sweeping form. ‘

“…Archibald? she called into the swallowing darkness, a confused, uncertain growl that rasped from her maw, a throaty challenge. She laughed a husky warble, and in the next moment she forgot about the name that she had just released. She kept walking, and her balance still evaded her; the world kept spinning, her body still ached, and the world she walked was a dreamer’s land doomed to vanish with the sun.








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