Chernobyl

Her black hair, long and so very onyx - especially against the bone white snow that is piled around her. A storm has encased the land for miles and Chernobyl is no stranger to such a situation, it is a simple and familiar solution to curl up like a snow dog and wait the storm out with some thorough rest. The frost lacing her long eyelashes cracks softly as her coal glass-globe eyes open to the sunlight. The snow falls away as she shifts, revealing her glossy coat beneath; it begins gathering warmth immediately. It takes her a moment to fully gain awakeness, dragging herself from the depths of her dream worlds and rising to her sturdy legs. Daylight is in its full, even will be approaching in several hours, she can tell by the suns angle as it stares down at the snow laden rocks and ledges. She shakes and more snow sprinkles away, curling and floating with the wind currents that flow whimsically passed the lone unicorn.

She's amongst the high hills and cliffs near the mouth of the Steppe, to the west of Heavenly Fields. After such a storm most would not follow its torn up path deeper into the Steppe, most would head to the Caves or forests; not Chernobyl.

Deeper and deeper she goes, moving along the coast. The snow flurries around her, as if to warn against the direction she travels. North and more north she goes. She plans to tangle herself into the frozen hillocks and wait for her dear Murdock. He's sure to be delighted that she has not run off again, only wandered a bit and got a bit fatter and free-er. Surely he will come, he always does. He is the only trustworthy thing in this fucked up mess of a society.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

Chernobyl

She knew he would come, he always comes. Faithfully they meet each other time after time; checking one another over and swiping the occasional soft touch. The sun has yet to set, leaving the shiny ice layer blanketing the snow illuminate like a thousand peachy lights. The peach colors fade to rose and lavender, soon they will sharpen into a bright yellow/orange - her mind is away from the sunset now though. Now she can only think of him as the sound of his feet crunching through the crusty snow echo across the vastness. The ocean's wild waves can be heard to the east, but all that booms in her ears in her own heartbeat. His voice cuts the coldness with its melting warmth, brushing the bitterness aside - instantly she realizes the heat they make with one another. The thought rolls away into the back of her mind as he reaches for her and says something of an apology. "Oh my handsome, kindred Murdock..." She chuckles wryly, "I'm the one constantly running off, no apologies from you are ever necessary..." She bubbles over with a little more laughter, leaning over to brush her hot breath against his cheek. "I've missed you so. I truly ache when we're apart. My bones, they're too restless to ever stay still for long though, as I'm sure you've noticed." A giggle flutters out of her wide fuzzy nostrils, again she leans over to touch him, this time her body slithers behind her movements. She fts herself nicely beside him, they're dark bodies meshing perfectly. Black and black, the fading sunlight reveals traces of Murdock's shadow-loving markings.

The snowflakes fall silently, swirling down to the shiny spines, fur, thorns and wings below. They melt upon contact, only gathering at the tips of the splinters adorning the black mare's horn. It is frigid but she cannot feel it, she wonders for a split second if he can feel the same thing she can. That electric, hot feeling that only his presence gives her. She decides to answer him now that they're eyes are locked into each other. "I've been well, and you? How have you been getting along?" She sniffs the air aloud, "The Edge." Her mind processes the smell of it's trees, heavy moisture and general aroma. She recognizes it. She cannot remember if she'd always known he was from there or if it is recent. Either way, it certainly much better than her past origins. Certainly the Edge would not persecute him for socializing with a unicorn. She reaches for him again, this time for longer, pressing her shoulder into his and tucking the bridge of her muzzle behind his cheekbone (into the groove of his neck). It felt good to breath him in, to lean on him gently, feeling his fur and feathers, and the delightful heat radiating from their bodies being so close. She gets lost in it, soaking it in, loving it.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

Chernobyl

The embers of sunset still burn behind the peaks, the rivers of bright light are probably going to creep out soon. Truthfully Chern would much rather the moon be shining, dominating her skyscape domain like the Queen she is - but not out here, out here she is submissive to the ruling ribbons of color that dance almost nightly in the open skies.

There is always a time to yield and a time to fight, even the moon have it engrained in them.

She listens to him intently, the tip of her head still tingling from where he lipped at her thick forelock. She's glad to hear he has found somewhere to belong, something she has yet to do. A small pang stirs in her chest when he mentions not wanting to be alone any longer. She lets it go easily, but stuffs it somewhere deep in the cogs of her dark mind. When he drapes his wing over her back she pulls halfway out of the embrace they're tangled in, only snaking her head out from underneath his throat groove and leaving her body still against his. Nightfall is ever creeping around them, but bitterness has yet to bite at her nostrils and eartips as it usually does. He asks of her adventures and she lets a chuckle softly hit the cold air. “Certainly nothing worthy of being called an adventure.” She laughs at herself a little bit, “A few scuffles and some lessons learned, but nothing special.” Her black eyes look into his, grinning deviously with only one side of her mouth. “Maybe I'm done being alone as well...” She reaches for his muzzle with her black lips, whuffing onto him affectionately before recoiling to speak again. “I'm thinking of putting together a small outcast group, with what purpose I have no idea...so far.” Her tail flicks, a subconscious action she does when her mind begins to go too far too fast. “Something.” Anything but a kingdom, but she doesn't say this aloud, it would sound too much like an insult...something she would never do to Murdock, not to mention she doesn't lack respect for the ranked subjects of the various kingdoms, she simply knows she would never do it again. Not after the Basin. Her attention comes back to him, “Tell me love,” she finds him with her abysmal dark eyes, “What do you do out there in the Edge?” Her curiosity is genuine, her voice is absent of the usual cynicism, as it always is when she talks to him.

LYRICAL GENIUS

Chernobyl

The Steppe is still. Silence wraps them as the snow falls, the only things stirring are them and the thinning snowfall that adds to the bone-white carpet already covering the barren hills. As the sun settles, disappearing, the snow is beginning cease. The weather is taming instead of bulking and rearing its enormous stormy head while night swallows day, which is what it typically does. Their gazes fit neatly together as she looks up and he looks down, the surreal connection produces electricity in her spine. The surface of her skin tingles and her hair stands on end beneath his snow collecting wing. She doesn't wonder if this is love or simply hormones, whether its a deeply rooted connection or just a natural reaction to loneliness. Despite her questioning nature she resists the instinct to do so and just relaxes beneath his feathery appendage. The warmth still encasing her, her ribcage expanding and falling against his own, her heart pulsing against his shoulder; their bodies meld as if cut from the same piece of material.

He encourages her, his touch rustling the glowing feathers tangled messily into her knotted hair. They have endured for a long while and still they seem firmly weaved into her mane after such a spanse of time (along with some random twigs and other small bits of debris).

She watches him ponder, her eyes set on him as he watches the fading crest of burning orange sink. She questions for a second whether she upset him but when he answers she smiles, playfully amused but not mockingly so. “That sounds pretty nice, actually.” She nods as he adds the last bit, light hearted laughter rising from her stocky chest. And then a question for her, she grins around the words, saying them confidently. “Oh yes, in fact I've heard there were some scrawlings of some sort in the Caves...hieroglyphs, that's what they were calling them.” She has become quite the spy as well, lurking behind and around other's conversations. Nothing important, just fun facts and treasure hunting clues. “I'm going to check that out at some point, too.” She looks out toward the falling sun and it's army of golden edged clouds. What little snow that was falling is now gone, but the chill remains, not that she can feel it. She looks up at him once again, her black eyes reflecting the dusky glow, the curves of her dark face lined with rosy-gold, “Next time we meet we should go there; you do owe me an adventure still.” She kisses her breath against his cheek, a pale cloud curling against his fur, she chuckles softly at her own affectionate jab.

I can't tell one from the other;
I find you, or you find me?

Chernobyl

Night was fading into darker night. The cold Steppe is starting to howl with a soft, but steady wind that whips through the conifers spread at the edges of the vast openness. When he leans his muzzle into her knot riddled, breathing onto her thick fur underneath the cloak of her twisted onyx hair; she closes her eyes and exhales with a hum of satisfaction. There was something raw, primal and soul nurturing about their visits with one another – all things Chernobyl had a hard time having faith in. She found any part of him she could with her prehensile lip, scratching him lovingly wherever she found a spot (most likely his neck or cheek).

The air sank at the mention of a next time, but the heaviness brought a smile to the black mare’s lips, kissing them against his muzzle with a nudge. “I will not be leaving again, Murdock – even if I were to, I’ll never be gone forever…even in death.” She whispers quietly to him, her lips still toying gently with his own lips and muzzle. He didn’t have to say aloud what was going through his mind; she did not need any magic to read him… He fidgets at the very thought of a goodbye, even with his wandering spirit, he did not like to severe the image of her from his eyes. She relishes in his steadfast affection, as if when they are apart he is sick with wanting. She is in fact sick with missing him when they are apart, but it is easy for her to put away, to hide the feeling deep on a heart she doesn’t even want in the first place – unless Murdock is around, and then having such an organ is always such a good time. She has trouble fathoming that his feelings match with her own, despite him doing everything to show her that they do. Finally she seems to catch on, that same old warmth heating up a little more as it needles through her bloodstream. She pulls away from playing with her lips against his, adjusting her position under his blanketing wing. “You know I must be off soon.” She snuggles into him, rubbing her face into his neck and mane, as if she is about to take a nap. “The next full moon though, you’ll meet me by the Cave entrance…won’t you?” She touches him tenderly from his neck to his muzzle, nibbling and nuzzling along the way, “So I’ll see you very soon, my love.” She snuggles into him again, it is a silent ‘I love you’ before she pulls away like a ghost after his own sweet farewell.

They’ll be together soon, it is only a week or so before the moon will swell up with light once again.

I can't tell one from the other;
I find you, or you find me?