the Rift


i am nothing, i do not even have ashes to rub into my eyes

Malachi Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1

i light the fire and see the blossom dance on air alone; i will not douse that flame, that searing flower; i will burn in it.

     The moon is silent, but she calls me by name with a voice like redemption. I do not want to ask for forgiveness here, but the beating rose in my chest aches so badly as I haphazardly remember. Memories are always at bad timing and without someone warm at my shoulder, kneading the strands at my neck into plaits, I cannot move my mind back into numbness. I will always glance down a path and wait for her seatbones to cue from my back. I will wait for her soft hand to pat my neck in reassurance. But I will always see the tender face half-submerged in mirth, stony eyes piercing mine, a trail of crimson trickling from her lip, the dark water swirling with wild arms, the final hug of current, and the snatching undertow before the last breath. I watched her lungs fill with the river. I fear that I will never forget.

     But this wide moon speaks over the crest of this hill with a curing voice—platinum, pure. Her light is mine as I emerge from the trees and inhale. Air. It is sweet, sweaty, licentious, rosy—everything I cannot afford. If freedom is a sin than I am not a sinner. I am not free, for my beloved girl still holds the other end of the reins and I will obey the pressure in the corner of my mouth. She thrums within my pulse, racing within my legs like a nighttime canter. Her spirit: alive in my eyes like it should be. Like it will always be.

     I find the moon's face with rose eyes and she bleaches them to stone. I think my bones have turned to dark emeralds because I don't quite feel alive, but I know I am the color of something that is. The wind perhaps, or something from my memory whispers hope, or trust but whatever it is I believe it because it sounds like it belongs to her. I cough up the energy I have left and start picking a way down the ravine through the sparse pines. The moon is gloriously full and speaks to me softly of riches, wind crooning through vagrant ears. Clearly I'm delirious, but I'll do anything for a distraction so I go ahead and ask the moon with two wilted eyes like fallen stars,

     "will you redeem me?"




Essetia Posts: 218
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion Linds
#2
Night fell dangerously low around them with only a faint trace of orange and purple clinging at the seams of the horizon. Both equine and wolf were in sync with the nightlife beaming and trilling from the dense wood of the Threshold all around. They had spent much of the day circling, playing, and laughing between the trees but had yet to encounter another friendly face. It reminded them too much of their stint in the Wilds but also affirmed their everlasting bond, one that had been tested with their return to Helovia. However, with the shadows creeping just around the bend, Romul’s attention remained fixed ahead. However, Essetia had insisted they wait out the midnight hour before returning to the Falls even if her companion whined and begged otherwise.

He was nervous and tense with anxiety, too many cold and threatening nights behind him to ignore. His thoughts thrummed across the ether of their bond before flowering slowly in Essetia’s conscious causing the mare to stop in order to reign him in. “Calm down, we’ll be fine.” she murmured softly. However, just as she resolved that they would indeed be perfectly safe there in the Threshold, the resounding crackling of underbrush urged the mare to lift her eyes from Romul. She peered out into the growing darkness, hopeful to find either deer or forest dweller maneuvering through the wood. But she found nothing… aside from a blooming curiosity that put the pair to task.

Stay close Rome,” Essetia commanded of the pale wolf. He responded with a soft snort despite the fact that his need to scout their path weighed heavily in the back of Essetia’s own mind. He had always felt the need to protect and shield the girl from danger. But now that she was capable of protecting them both from harm Essetia had become more watchful.

Another heavy crack! broke through the quiet at their left and both Romul and Essetia paused before trailing it. Up ahead, the moon lit a narrow path leading down toward a shallow ravine. Slowly, Romul approached its lip before beckoning his companion forward; just below, in the hollow dip, stood a greyed figure. Essetia rumbled at the creature before slowly easing her heft down the left side of narrow bank. “She might just answer you someday…” she stated casually while glancing up into the stars. Upon approaching the male, colorless eyes flecked in brown found those foreign pupils gazing longingly at the moon’s wide, pallid face. His lips were parted as though he had sung to her from time to time, though Essetia could only pretend such notions were true.

I’m Essetia and this is Romul,” she stated while gesturing to the cautious wolf at her side. He had managed to plant himself quietly at her shoulder after easing down the slope at their backs. However, golden eyes did not comfort their new friend and instead warned him from making and false moves toward Essetia.

Behave,” the mare soothed silently.
Credits!


@[Malachi]

◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity

Malachi Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#3

i light the fire and see the blossom dance on air alone; i will not douse that flame, that searing flower; i will burn in it.

     The sound of my voice surprises the world, a croaking tremble too weary to be healthy, how I might imagine a ghost to sound. Cool mist slips from lips as though my words have become an apparition. I fear what I look like trapped in the exposure of the moon -- still caked in river mud from a year ago or bleached to bones in the waning rays -- neither acceptable in the presence of another. But the idea of another is too ambiguous for this reality. I've shared the year submerged beneath waters that are silver still, stagnant, probably too tainted to survive a swallow. It's a miracle that this petaled heart has only rusted at dry tips, it's a miracle that it still grows red deep in the folds. Yes, the heart has layers.

     I stagger down this acute valley, so lost in the perplexed folds of myself that I almost don't hear the ripple of another voice. It answers late and the silver waters of disillusion part enough to hear the rush of warmth from her sound. My eyes dance to the horizon, wary, but seek a promise of fervor. Confusion is a bubbly thing and I inwardly chuckle when my gaze narrows to hers. She emerges with subfuscous colors and the murk of night cloaks her safely, but something white and low crouches with tenacity, with caution. The moon catches white hair in an instant, and like fire, creates ash. The wolf, outlined so indistinctly, seems to waver. I hesitate, knowing the danger of such a thing and breathe out into the air again. But the girl continues on as though this animal is a friend. Bizarre. I dare not question.

     But she answers as the moon does, late and illuminated. "I’m Essetia and this is Romul,"

     Too withered to think, I just spill the first thing in my head; she must somehow notice the deadly fatigue reaping over my skeleton. "It's wonderful to know he's not the kind that kills." I shift my weight toward her, offer a friendly smile that is far gone in my eyes to a place of ache and lassitude. A cough shakes through the bones and I realize how old I must have become over this starving year. With each passing moment, the world continues to work a lull over my body. I fear how much I've spent, and wonder how one day as small as this can break a year of unrest. "Essetia, is this place safe for sleep?" I figure the moon is a faithful watch guard, but the presence of danger is always dense as the shadows.

     "I'm not sure how much more these legs can take."



@[Essetia]

Essetia Posts: 218
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion Linds
#4
The cold of an early birdsong night flutters lightly across the mare’s skin and try as she might, Essetia can't help the involuntary shudder that follows shortly after. Awkward tension blooms in place of concern and though she is beguiled by the idea of meeting another night dweller such as herself, she is wary. The moon’s silvery light allows her to make out the draft’s demeanor easily enough but she cannot decipher his expression as shrouded by darkness as he is.

However, when languid song fills the quiet, the mare is forced to contain the laughter that simmers hot and low in her stomach. With a smile she turns her eyes down toward Romul who shuffles anxiously at her shoulder. Even his companion found the male’s observation to be humorous, the wolf certainly did not. “Only on command,” Essetia states casually with a smile. Even if he can't see how her lips turn upward or how her eyes twinkle with childish vigor, her words are soft and carry no malice.

When introductions are quickly evaded, the mare’s smile fades just as quickly as it came. Upon closer inspection, without the haze of fascination coloring her opinions, Essetia notices just how frail the large draft appears. Whether it was her child-like ignorance or just a lack of caring, the mare fails to acknowledge the wet cough that shakes through the male’s chest. She is aware of the symptoms caused by loneliness and an insurmountable time spent a vagrant and thus sighs sympathetically before moving a step closer. “You are in Helovia friend… The Threshold is no place for idleness but Romul and I will stay with you if you’ll have us,” she breathes quietly.

However, if you believe that you can make the short journey to my home land in the Hidden Falls, I would like to offer you refuge. We can call for a Nurse if you’d like; it’s certainly much safer than spending the night here in the claiming grounds,” the mare concludes seriously. Her gaze is unwavering in the shadows and though she is mildly unsettled by his delirium, she is unable to abandon him in favor of greed and self-preservation.

Be prepared,” Essetia warns her bond mate. “We have a long night ahead of us.

What’s your name?
Credits!


@[Malachi]

OOC| Sorry for the wait and the lackluster post.

◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity

Malachi Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#5

i light the fire and see the blossom dance on air alone; i will not douse that flame, that searing flower; i will burn in it.

     Like a dying body, this night grows more cold. Sends winds trembling through the arteries of the hollow forest to creep up suddenly, first in my eyes and through my mane down my backside. It's the kind of cold that sparks fear in raising a foot or blinking dry eyes. Even motionless, the sting of frozen weight climbs up my feathered legs. I squint at Essetia, ignoring the weight of my eyelids to watch her words spill over, cloaked by softness similar to the sound of a yawn. I dip my head, confirming our standings, though far too tired to question Romul's obedience as he settles in by her side. I must look drunk here wavering in the bitter wind with the moon casting deep shade over the valleys of my ribcage. I must look dead.

     But some kind of bravery keeps her speaking, words crooning around this world, Helovia, and a safe haven bounding with falls and seclusion. I see it somewhere between the lackluster folds of an overused memory. I find a meadow behind my eyes and the mumble of water beneath my ears. I almost doze away in the warmth of her words, feel the solidity purr the lulling image through my thoughts. I can't remember the last time I talked to someone.

     Two words caught on the edge of my consciousness: short journey. An oxymoron. My thoughts move like coagulating blood, slowly, stiffly. I can't imagine taking another step on these spent soles. If I do the veins may shatter into blue glass, the muscles might splinter like diseased trees, the bones might degrade to powder. My brain shivers under the blanket of my skull. I simply don't know. Nothing spurs me forward into the arms of reality.

     "I'm just," drops from my mouth, draping open in the break of silence. Cold, I think. But it is not good enough. I loosen my frame with the turn of my head, glancing onward to where the mare came like a gift from the moon. "Weak," finally escapes the null, pushed from the back of my throat like vomit. Weaker than I thought. Perhaps I would still be swinging mindlessly through the rhythm of pace if I hadn't let stillness turn my body to stone. How do you move stone?

     I lift my foreleg slightly, just rocking through motion, more like shaking through the weight. I inhale deeply, imagine water in my lungs. Imagine swimming. And like a miracle, I move.

     "We should go," I say, taking a crippled step toward her, blinking away the ache in my legs, feeling the knives of cold. It's like deep mud consuming each leg. I don't know where we're going, but I trust the moon, the memories, and this girl at the same time. She asks for my name. Again, a brave gesture.

     I focus on my limbs, watching each hoof fall before me like precious gemstones. I do not trust them because they have failed me before, met the slide of ravines like these into the depth of water. Two mediums in one moment. A gallop does not translate in a current, the legs are free but the body isn't and it only creeps onward, at the speed of a walk if you're lucky. My thoughts are traveling backward, back into the memory. I hear my name scream from the back of my brain in a voice that is distant, vague. Dead. I am too tired to recognize it, but I repeat the utterance to feel it on my tongue.

     "Malachi."

     And I see her tender face half-submerged in mirth, stony eyes pierce mine, a trail of crimson trickles from her lip, the dark water swirls with wild arms, the current hugs her, and the undertow snatches. Kills.

     I blink to the moon, and slide into the depths of travel. Leaving more of myself behind as we make the short journey.


@[Essetia]
Psh, you're posts are great! <3
Do you want to post once more and then I'll make another thread in the Hidden Falls? We may need a healer when we get him over there, he's quite weak and malnourished.

Essetia Posts: 218
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion Linds
#6
Wide, luminescent eyes remained fixed on the draft in spite of the grief it caused her. He appeared to pass through the various stages of sheer exhaustion and, though she was unable, she wished fervently that she could do more. Nervously, the mare stepped forward, her hooves sliding unevenly over the ruts etched into the gorge’s floor. With a velveteen muzzle extended toward him, Essetia murmured softly to the wearied traveler, “Lean on me if you like.” Moving cautiously around him, so that both horses were facing the bank at which Romul sat waiting, the mare touched his shoulder with her own. It was a quick brush of skin, a reminder of warmth and light in the cold of what was becoming a worrisome night.

His voice was something like a leaf drifting upon the breeze, wavering in strength before fading entirely. The mare turned her gaze to his quivering lips and felt instantly adrift. She was unsure of herself, unsure of how to deal with such a fragile situation, and unsure of what to say to ease the man without losing her composure. “Don’t give up on me,” she croaked with a weak smile. Romul whimpered at the pair from afar but his companion only shook her head in response. The last thing she needed was the wolf panicking the draft and causing a potentially fatal fall. Looking to the skies, she sighed heavily. It was perhaps the first and last time she sent a silent prayer to the Gods, pleading for their help.

Again, soft vocals trembled in the still night air and Essetia used the opportunity to analyze the stallion in full, unabashed concern. Hard, sloping ribs pushed against his ashen hide and his flanks protruded outward, casting sharpened shadows along his hips in the moonlight. However, Essetia wasn’t given much time to ponder his state of well-being or how he managed to stumble across Helovia. She stepped away in order to allow him room as the draft rocked back into his haunches. Bringing up a large heavy hoof, he mercifully allowed her the words she’d been waiting for.

The mare nodded quickly, all business now, before trilling at Romul who turned to scramble back up the embankment. Knowing that she wouldn’t be much help in assisting the draft to the top of the ravine, she motioned for him to go on ahead. At least if he somehow managed to lose his footing she would be more apt to right him from behind. “Let’s go home then… Malachi.
Credits!


@[Malachi]
OOC| So I realized I kind of messed up your post by having her come to him, hope you don’t mind.

◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity


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