the Rift


[PRIVATE] Two Sides of a Mirror [Archibald]

Vincent Posts: 32
Outcast
Stallion :: Equine :: 19.0 :: 10 Buff: NOVICE
Claribel :: Irish Wolfhound :: None Sparrow
#1

V I N C E N T

I raised myself.
My legs were weak.
I prayed my mind be good to me.

Tired...

He was so, so tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of being afraid. His mind was rotting with fear, terror digging and plowing through the bone of his skull and settling like a fatal cancer within his brain, ticking like a time-bomb, waiting, waiting... Tick, tick, tick... One day it would go off, and with it, everything that Vincent was and had become would cease to exist.

It was driving him mad. This fear. This waiting. This anxiety. Everything.

It wrestled at his throat, scrabbling with sharp nails against his esophagus, rolling around and clawing up his lungs so every breath ached. Eating made him sick. The sun stung his eyes. Every drink swallowed felt like he was drowning.

'What's wrong with me...?' The questions, stuttered over and over throughout the day, throughout the night would serve as his lullaby, his mantra, his questionnaire to figure out just what was happening to him.

Was it due to the loneliness? The fear? Her?

Large ears tipped back flat against a sweaty skull as his mind brought up unbidden images of Her, teeth bared in fear, glowing-golden oculars narrowed from where they stared, unseeing, at the ground below massive, dragging hooves. A beast he was, huge and colossal, black as the surrounding night... But he moved like a dead-thing, like a soldier long-forgotten upon the bloodstained fields of an old battleground. Leaving him behind. Leaving him to die.

Archibald...

Heat began pooling within his coat, although the fearful stallion couldn't explain just why. Lifting his head, golden eyes blinked slowly, head twisting left and right as he tried to make sense of where his legs had brought him during his musing wanderings. Hooves scraped against rough, rock-like ground, heat pooling from the bright and beautiful displays of lava around him. The brute's eyes narrowed. Around him, three 'trees' sprouted from the very lava itself, seeming to be formed of the magma and coal, bright and beautiful and so terribly alluring that for once in a long, long time, Vincent felt his troubles washing away.

Where had he wound up...? The Veins. Right. The Veins of the Gods.

In the distance, four stone relics could be spotted, some in decay, some beautiful, but it was not they that he approached. No... He would remain here, in sight of the beautiful lava-trees, his gaze staying upon each and every one and wondering just why, seeing them, made his heart ache with pain. With sadness.

For once, since her hatching, Claribel was silent by Vincent's large side. The Wolfhound pup sniffed the air, the ground, blue-brown oculars following her bond mate's gaze as he assessed the trees. Concern for him drifted through their intimate connection, a feeling that the both of them were getting used to. Lowering his head, the brute nuzzled his muzzle into the wire-coat of the Wolfhound's back, snuffling her and lipping at her.

Never alone... Never alone, not with Claribel around. His little blessing that had come in the form of an egg.

Who knew pups came from eggs? Vincent didn't... But there was much he didn't know.

Shifting, the Shire tucked in large, long legs and slowly lowered himself to the hard, dirt-packed earth, nuzzling Claribel and greedily taking in the comfort that the pup so readily offered. Beneath the trees of lava, Vincent found himself surrounded by peaceful sadness, and he had no intention on leaving any time soon.

@[Archibald] <3

Image Credits

I raised myself.
My legs were weak.
I prayed my mind be good to me.


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