the Rift


Soon it will be cold enough [Enki]

Ink Posts: 121
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years
Blu
#1


The sea roars ahead of me, all foam and no bite. Well, it does bit a little. The water is cold as it slaps against my fetlocks, tugging at my tail so that black streams of diluted ink pour out like strange seaweeds. The sun is warm against my back and the pale sand behind me equally as nice to the touch - not overbearing as it has been.

This is not the first ocean I've seen. I remember the Moonlit Tides from Isilme, a place I dared to call home briefly. I'd thrown my creations into the sea boldly then, hoping in vain one might survive the rough waves and the endless blue. None ever did of course. I'd though back then it meant there was no hope. In think I realize now it just means ink is weaker than water. I can be foolish sometimes. Anger particularly makes one foolish. Sadness does too, the frailer brother to anger. I'm familiar with them both. They fill you up and make you feel strong in a certain way. Yet they're incredibly empty emotions. They provide little sustenance for growth and inevitably cripple.

I can see that for the first time now. I may not always be in this mindset, this clarity, but I'll cherish this epiphany and perhaps, just perhaps, if I keep it close enough to my heart, I'll remember the way I feel right now when I feel that anger or that sadness again. I'll remember how pointless those things are, how useless they are. Maybe, just maybe, I'll learn.
One can only hope for such things.

For now though, I'm content listening to the wind and the waves and watching the trails of ink on the damp sand of the shore.
I smile an honest smile, a thing of beauty on a face of such heavy despair.

This is what happens when you suffer and then are released from that suffering. My lack of speech remains, an eternal suffering I'll cope with, but in this period of relief from the heat and my temporary loss of drawing, I now have the ability for gratitude. For the first time in my life I can appreciate the absence of something terrible, because for the first time, something terrible is absent.

For the first time in a long time I don't dwell or mope or even introvert.
I don't think about the death of my parents.
I don't think about the lack of my voice.
I don't think about the capacity for cruelty in those so like me.
I don't think about the loss of my birthland.
I don't think about the death of so many.
I don't think about this shitty, dying planet and morality.
I don't think about the sun's rage just days ago.
I don't think about those strange girls who stole me.
And I definitely don't think about why my penis had been stiff every morning lately, swinging like a tree trunk between my legs and making it difficult to pee. A small annoyance compared to the others, but a constant one, and a new one that leads to constant aggravation.

I don't think about any of this as I look out at the blue field. I feel weightless and I smile and smile and smile.

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Enki Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#2
Our prince was glad to welcome the reprieve from the heat that had plagued Helovia for the entirety of an all-too-long summer. The heat has retreated enough to allow him to spread his wings today, the massive, delicate limbs that sprout from his back and flow out so naturally, unlike the rest of his gnarled form. Were it not for the wings and the magic that our prince was born with, he would likely have died as a foal, after it happened.

Our beloved would never speak of this event, but it weighs heavily on his bitter mind today. Orangemoon always makes him feel the losses of his life more vividly than any other day. Besides, the freedom of movement in the air has allowed our prince to think clearly about other things, instead of the toil of walking. His clumped mess of a mane and tail flap behind him like solid masses of dirt and grime. Leaves, long since forgotten, shake loose in the turbulence of the flight, and twigs fall from the sky and hit unsuspecting creatures down below. A rain of muck, as Enki would call it, was what the bastards below probably deserved.

This is one of the great failings of the prince. He longs to find the beauty in the world, but unfortunately thinks badly of most that he meets immediately. Some of this is not entirely farfetched, considering the company he lands himself in, but you might still think our Enki is quite twisted, and not just physically. Perhaps the dirty prince is simply twisted, but we think not. He has a heart that beats strong and deep, but it is rare that anything touches his most precious possession. Only the truly beautiful pierce straight through to that carefully guarded secret, and there isn't a living soul that our Enki has met that he finds beautiful.

The world is beautiful to our prince. The curves of hills, the jagged tops of mountains, the patterns of wispy clouds, the graceful limbs of trees, and the glitter of snow - they are beautiful. As for the equids, they are usually corrupt and disgusting. Our beloved still has yet to find one since her, one that he finds beautiful in everyway. He likely would not, but there is a silent hope that dwells in his chest.

The expanse of blue comes as a surprise to our prince, for he had not thought that his travels had brought him so far west as to meet the coast. Not wanting to tempt fate by sailing over open waters, the cripple makes a cautious descent on powerful wings toward the water, hoping that the soft liquid would make his landing easier than if he had chosen the sand. His limbs, after all, did not handle that much shock well.

The water collides onto him strongly, but the liquid is cool. It is refreshing to his warm body, which has been getting an unexpected amount of exercise compared to his normal daily activity level. Using his wings like oars, the prince scoops his way toward the shore, layers of mud streaming off behind his dirty figure in the water, mixing in with odd black lines that joined in the ocean as well. This is when our prince sees him. A seafoam green eye peers out from behind a thick mass of forelock, caked with dirt and mats of hair. It sees a black figure standing solitary on the beach directly in from of him, but our prince does not change direction. Instead, the deformed pegasus makes it to the shore, twisted, gnarled limbs pulling him out of the water and into the sand, waving his wings up and down to expell the water from them.

Our beloved gives a sidelong glance to the stallion, a brief nod of the head in greeting, before echoing out with a sour voice. "Hey."




Ink Posts: 121
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years
Blu
#3


In my horizon gazing I notice a speck in the sky. I tilt my head ever so slightly, attention fully set now on this moving dot that seems to be drawing closer as its size increases. Before long I recognize it as a pegasus.

I wonder what it's like to fly.

Sea and foam sprinkle the surface of the ocean as the flying horse crash lands into the water. I startle at this charging forward immediately to provide aid, though I stop myself soon enough. I'd likely drown us both. I've not the frame, experience or the skill to rescue anyone, namely me, so I stand still and watch. I strain forward, my body tense as my eyes scour the water's top but the pegasus is there, alive and kicking, literally. I sigh relief, drawing back into myself and wading back to the wet shore.

As he draws closer, this stallion becomes all the more peculiar. His mane is a mess of knots and his eye seems, lumpy. His body is dirty, a grime not even the sea seems to be able to scour as he rises from it like some dingy leviathan. One land I can attest truly his oddities, for his back is humped like a camel and his legs seem not to have bones in the way they twist. One side is shorter than the other making him limp in a truly pathetic if not impossible way.

He's shorter than me, even as I am on the cusp of my adulthood, and I have to incline my head a bit downward to see him better. Some seaweed clings to his mane, and seagrass, and I think perhaps a seastar has had difficulty dispatching from his side. Most unusual.

My eyes widen.
It is not fear that gives them width, but rather concern. I cannot say what has happened to this traveler, but surely it is something terribly unfortunate. He must have been running from whatever deformed him so, explaining his water landing from pure exhaustion - not knowing flight mechanics well I do not reason that water is a softer thing to grab hold of than sand when you feet are so mangled.

Despite my best theories however, he is rather nonchalant in his greeting which only further astounds me. I would be speechless if not already I'm sure.

Perhaps he is use to being chased and mangled? Maybe these wounds are not one event but several? Is he a brave, but unlikely, warrior?

I can think of nothing to do but draw. I have so much to ask, to wonder, to tell, to say!

I whip my tail around to my said, leaving a wet smack as it hits the hard, sand here so near the water's edge. The tips bleed out the inky substance onto the ground and I craft it into a resemblance of him. I send that picture flying above us, and from the black thread keeping it in touch with my tail, a different thread sprouts and makes a variety of attacks. At first I guess pegasus, and then I try a huge dragon or even a flock of harpes! The possibilities are endless. I show him being attacked, his back lifting, his face bruising causing that strange lump. I show him flying and crash the design into the ocean.

It is a silent question, one I hope he will answer.

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Enki Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#4
Wide-eyed but silent, the stallion practically gawks at our prince as he stands before him, rotating his beautiful wings up and down, sending water droplets shooting through the air like small bullets. Our beloved is quite used to the strange looks of others upon his arrival, so he is more or less unaffected by the reaction of this stallion, who just stands and stares for a moment, even as out prince reaches backward toward his barrel and pulls loose a seastar before flinging it violently back to the ocean. "Stupid bugger," he says harshly, before looking back toward the figure of inky black.

"What? Are you just going to stand there and stare all day?" our prince's voice rings out heavily, laced with annoyance and a bitter misunderstanding. He cannot comprehend the lack of voice, for his own voice was so essentially to his protection that our beloved would likely not survive in this world without it. Abusing the use of words is a crime the earthen figure is guilty for, using them only for spiteful phrases and hateful words most of the time. The world has not been kind to our prince, though, so the reader should not look at him with disgust at his bad attitude. As previously mentioned, the thick exterior riddled with spikes is nothing more than the shell that hides the precious, delicate heart within. His ugly exterior would seem to match the interior as well, but if one could see through the light eyes, it is likely a different story entirely would be told.

A splat of black and ink on the shore startles the prince, but is the first awakening for him into what this black stallion's problem is. No speech is made, no attempt, no sound, except for the brush strokes of his tail on the sand below. Rightfully intrigued, our Enki directs his sight downward, toward the crystal sand of the beach being stained thickly with ink. The picture begins with a pegasus, which our prince quickly deduces is none other than himself. He watches with amusement as the silent stallion continues to draw, showing many creations, but all of them resulting in his "injuries". With a bark of a laugh, our Enki's voice soars forth, his only visible eye locking onto the other stallion's face.

"I was born this way," our beloved says openly. "But you can feel free to dream whatever reality you like better." His harsh voice sounds softened from the last bit of monologue presented to the black stallion, though it is hardly noticeable to many who do not know our Enki well. His gentleness is not easily recognized.




Ink Posts: 121
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years
Blu
#5


He snaps at me with an impatience I am unfamiliar with. I flinch as though expecting teeth to clip me rather than hard words, but I haste on with my drawing so he may understand sooner. Truthfully though I am hurt by this... I thought him a brave knight, but perhaps I can forgive the slight in lieu of the hard traveling he must have endured.

I paint and he watches, though he seems not astonished as everyone else. Perhaps someone as knightly and traveled as he has already seen everything there is to see? I wonder if that makes life much more boring? I'm sure it must.

He seems to understand me well enough, softening even as he speaks truthfully. I am shocked to learn his disfigurements have been with him since birth. I frown, pitying him, though I know in my heart I know I shouldn't. It's more of a kinship I feel with him than sadness honestly. He is like me in that respect, an outcast by design. I smile in return to him, flapping my tongue out of my lips, the only thing its good for. Well and tasting, can't forget about sweet grasses and roots. I bob my head, hoping to convey my disadvantage is a similarity to his.

He is hardened by this I assume, which explains his gruff tones. I am weaker than he. I took the route of fear and avoidance where he stands strong against his opposition, staring them down with anger and hatred. I can only mourn my plight and hate myself. How pitiful. I sigh, glancing away to watch the sea drift on and off the shore again.

Sometimes I feel like we're all just little ink drawings drowning in the sea, like that day in the Tides.
I start to draw black ink pooling up and rising like a tide over me, but I let it splash into the beach before it reaches my back. I must not let myself drift in such currents so soon again. Today is a good day! He said I could dream whatever reality I like...

I invite him to walk with me down the shore with a bump of my muzzle and an extension of it towards him, warm breath welcoming as it sighs from my nose. As I turn away the ink behind me runs from my tail. I let it sprout flowers, something I've always found to endure and serve as hope, and even beauty. It doesn't matter I want to tell him. Life remains strong and lovely, even if all its creatures are broken and ugly, we of all the least among them. Too many appear whole but inside are more disturbing than we. He does understand that much, doesn't he?

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Enki Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#6
If our prince had not been made so callous, he might feel sad and scared most of the time. Our dwarf did not have much to speak of in muscle, except the broad muscles connecting his wings to the defective, crumpled frame upon which they were hinged. On the ground, Enki has the grace of a drunk rhinocerous, so it would be no wonder if he cowered in fear of others. What would make one so small stand so tall? Of course, it comes from the love that is still buried deep in the recesses of that stone heart. What fuels courage but confidence? What fuels confidence but love?

Because no one could ever love such a wretched beast, many would just assume our prince was daft. This was not uncommon, especially when the stallion was young. A disfigurement of the body was seen as equal to a disfigurement of the mind, but she knew our Prince better. She knew, so he believes very much in his mind. Gritty, cold, and bitter - his mind is still a sanctuary, where there would be no crossing.

This young stallion, pitch black, is amusing to our beloved, though. He holds himself with an awkward stance, almost as if more was wrong with him than just his mute mouth. Our Enki does not really believe that being mute is an impairment; rather, he would probably think those who are incapable of stopping their words are the ones with a problem. Unfortunately, he has found that nearly every idiot in this forsaken land was absolutely in love with the sound of their own voice - something he would rather not know. This silent colt is surprisingly refreshing company, even if the initial gawking had put the dirty midget in a state of unease. Now, the almost comical lull of the dead tongue from the mouth of the boy brings a smirk.

Two cripples, staring each other in the face. For once, our favorite mask of stone seems soft, almost alive.

Standing tall, a small, deformed statue, our prince takes the nudge of the black colt to the shoulder, almost worried the inky black of his tail also poured from his muzzle. The filth would not matter much, for even as the water had washed away many caked layers, the white splotches revealed below were still tinged a strange sooty yellow. Prancing forward, an ease of movement, this boy juts forth from out beloved, leaving a warm kiss of breath on his damp skin. The swirling of the black tail touches the sand, leaving behind swirls of flowers. Our prince watches the ground with a small smile, before taking up a shuffling of his gnarled limbs to move forward as well.

This dark stallion's reality was full of flowers, but they were like a funeral procession garbed in black. As our prince shuffles past each row, a crackling noise begins. The stems of flowers turn shades of green from lime to emerald, glittering in the sunlight from above. Petals burst into an array of colors, some deep pinks and others pure white. Spikey, crystalline flowers, outlined by the artist and colored in by the cynic, are left like a trail on the beach, and our Enki gives a quick flash of a wink toward the unlikely company he has found.

"You should invest in some different colored paint." A gruff laugh gurgles in his larynx.


ooc: monday is kind of like saturday, right? xP




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