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There is one truth all children learn as they grow up. This world and its inhabitants have cruel sense of humor.
Have you ever had something wonderful placed conveniently across your path? Something so miraculous, so breathlessly tempting that for a single moment the pulsing muscle we fondly call a "heart," has begun embracing notions of fate and destiny. Even if you've been the biggest advocate for freedom of will, freedom of choice -- for a spilt second you're transformed into a believer of fortune; or of great wonders much bigger than your puny personal desire.
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I've had one of those moments.
Me.
A young traveler who had no family, no aspirations for the future, or regrets from the past. In a way, this soul is a blank slate; and it is blankly that two soft green irises peer up at me from this mud laced pool of water I've been peering down at for longer than most individuals consider normal. These lips are drawn into a hard line that could almost pass as thoughtful; but I knew better...that reflection mirrors emptiness, a wordless expression that is plastered upon this face. Though there is good reason for this obsessive staring, and it sits between both shoulders above my breast and all around me.
A seemingly harmless, beautiful string of nearly weightless beads of various size hang just beyond the reach of my flesh; their loop circles high around this neck. No chains, no apparent tricks maintain their separation and floating ability. They are a curious thing to watch; though, the gems themselves aren't excessively noticeable at first glance. Each clear, bubble like bead is made from a transparent material of unfamiliar origin (or at least unfamiliar to me.)
No biggie...
There was just one teeny, tiny problem.
Let me back up a little.
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The warmth from a noon sun kept the crisp breeze tolerable and for a journeyman, comfortable. This span of land went on and on, as far as my earthly eyes could see. One rolling plain led directly into another -- though it should be said that traveling was easy, both land and sky are clear and for the majority of the time flat...save for the occasional mound of windblown soil that had grown up over the years to make infant hills. I was thankful for appealing weather; mostly because the majority of sleeping was occurring at ground level. This savanna like terrain could hardly support fig trees and a local thorny species my memory could recognize. Neither beast was suitable; they barely seemed able to stand erect and stay anchored to the soil without a weighted companion nestled amid their leaves.
It was during one of the walking lapses that I notice every bush and twiggy structure had a subtile lean, as if the world was titling everything south. I zealously alter my course west when the tall brown grass begins to fade, and nasty looking smoke appears on the horizon. Eventually this land thickens, that windblown turf grew rich enough to uphold more than thistle plants or stunted fig trees. A warm, welcoming fragrance makes even the fine hairs of my nose quiver with delight. Ah, willow and magnolia; an excellent change of scenery was just ahead.
As the warm sun fades, I stretch these feathers one final time; rising powerfully in the dying light. Twilight fell. With spirits high my frame descends to explore this new stretch of territory...Hours later, evening again. I stumble upon a rare piece of landscape that stands apart for the usual bramble and brush. It holds itself erect with pale white trees -- and above, instead of greenery or the crumbling colors of autumn, its canopy is coated with a shimmery transparent covering.
I pause beneath one heavy arch and peer up at the dry, gnarly vinework. Tracing one cord with a bored eye my attention would've pulled immediately away had it not been for an alteration in the design. Something was all twisted up in that browning foliage, just barely visible. I lean forward, the speed of curiosity overriding any good sense that might have arose had my reaction been hesitation. Without concern these jaws close around the base of one twisted vine and pull timidly, it holds firm so I pull harder and the whole mess crumbles away. That faded color wasn't just a sign of season change...they'd been long dead and hardly more than powdery fossils.
The trapped thing fell, rolling across the floor before settling upon it...or rather...floating an inch or so from the surface. With shining eyes better befitting that of a child, I approach, eager to behold this new trinket and ignorant to any danger it might or might not hold. Though, I'm suddenly reminded of the strange womanchild with exp-changing water birds. Gently, these teeth stretch apart as I steer them down to reach out and brush the largest gem. Nothing alarming occurred, the cool surface met warm flesh as any lifeless thing would. It was a necklace of sorts -- and a beautiful one. Seeing as nobody else was around to fuss over it...
As I was reaching to lay claim, the spheres unhook -- or rather floated further apart; they fling themselves around my neck and start rotating counterclockwise. This body jumps half a foot in the air; bordering fear, certainly alarm my chin falls forward -- white rimmed eyes attempting to catch sight of this swirling contraption. (Truth be told I was actually handling this part fantastically well...until)...without warning, a powerful gale spun itself into action. Strong enough to fling dirt and all manner of debris away.
That cold, tornado-like wind sends me flying from the covered tree thing. Yet, no matter how much twisting, bucking, running or flying...that enduring cyclone never dims. Indeed, it seems to be taunting, following me! In ever tiring circles I run; trying to escape the spirals of air that lash around me. Finally spent, hair tangled and matted with leaves, dust and sweat. I stop, trembling uncontrollably as the storm continued.
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Which brings me back to the present. Staring uselessly at the whirlwind and beautiful necklace through a dirty, scummy looking-glass.
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[OPEN] No touchy, no feely
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04-27-2015, 10:40 PM
camon. Dreaming of a could be
04-29-2015, 10:50 PM
Her Arabian form slinks towards the serene opening in which harbors a calm lake, it's surface like a mirror, reflecting. Beside the lake, is a small structure in which Dröm has grown rather fond of. Her memories are few, but they are great. Yet now, the golden mare is not paying attention to the structure's greatness, nor the brilliant reflection of the lake, not even the array of colors thrown everywhere by the stained glass roof inside the structure. She is crying, violently. Her eyelids are squinted shut, tears flowing rapidly from them, running down her already moist cheeks. She never did learn how to cry 'stylishly', silently. She let out a heartwrenching wail, the pain and loneliness could be heard through the tone. Her golden coat was dull, lifeless. There was a thin layer of dust covering her hide, giving her already dull coat just what it needs to make her look zombie-ish, dead. It was what she felt- dead and it was if no amount of CPR could bring her back. Her golden locks lay flatly against her neck, her bouncy curls mostly gone, replaced by layer after layer of knots and tangles. The hard part of the girl's hooves are chipped and cracked and the soles of her hooves, where her sensitive frogs are located, is bruised, making walking uncomfortable and painful. She certainly knows where the bruises had come from. She's been walking nonstop over rocky terrains, and in turn, she'd gotten the bruises and chipped hooves. She'd not bee acclimated to such terrain, and now she paid the price. Still, the worst pain was from a small stone, one that had lodged it's way in the sole of her hoof. The pain was unbearable, and she couldn't not lay any weight on the leg, leaving her to hobble around awkwardly on one front leg and two back. Her stark chrome markings were no longer stark, but grey, clearly dirty.
She took a few steps forward, hiding in the thicker foliage as she glanced at the rotunda, attempting to see if any other horses were occupying the spot. Truthfully, she just wanted to be alone, to sulk and think by herself. She wasn't sure what she wanted to think through, but she knows she wanted to. She missed Elsa the most, but she also missed those that she didn't like as much. She missed her General, Rostislav, or whatever position he was (she never really asked what he was ranked, but simply knew he was a soldier, a brave one too.) And maybe, somewhere in the back of her mind, she even missed Aftica and Decembed, though neither of them had been very kind nor welcoming. In fact, it had just been quite awkward speaking to them. Still, they were family. Now Dröm is alone, fending for herself, scavenging for herself, but living for who? It was a cruel world, one Dröm wasn't sure she wanted to be a part of anymore. What was living with no home, no family, no friends? It's not living, it's being alive, just going through the motions. Through blurry vision caused by the tears in her eyes, she could make out a loudly colored figure. No doubt he had heard her wail, it had been loud. Still, she was hidden from his eye, in the shadows and behind a large trunk. Her loud sobs and waterfall of tears had nearly stopped, but it was clear she had been crying, and for a long time, too. Her eyelids fluttered, pushing the remaining salty liquid from her eyes in the form of a few tears. Her vision was clearer, no longer marred by the tears that had poured nonstop from her eyes moments ago. Her gaze focused on the stallion. He was an average height, only somewhat taller than herself, but his coloring was far from Dröm. He was a lightly colored stallion with distinct Appaloosa-like patterns. In all honesty, she wasn't really sure what color he was exactly. It was easy to tell that he was muscled, much more than the golden arab, but not as muscled as some of the horses she had seen invading her home. From his ass, a lions tail is seen. She has seen only one other tail like his before. It had been Morie that had this tail. Thinking of the dark stallion sent shivers down her spine. She had been attracted to the stallion in some strange way. He had been dominant, possessive, controlling, and she secretly loves it. Maybe that is all Dröm needed, someone to tell her what to do. He had been blind, but that didn't hinder him much, considering he even fought with a stallion that had been provoking him, and won. Maybe that was why she was taken by him, he knew what he wanted and he achieved it. Sighing softly, she wishes she could be more like that, because she had no fucking idea what she was doing anymore. She had somewhat zoned out, and when she managed to find the appaloosa's form once again, he had moved slightly, but was rearrange was that a tornado circled him, his form devoured by the circling wind. Had he meant to do that? She wondered if he was injured, for she could easily heal him if he was. She assumed that he wasn't, due to the fact that he simply stood there. She stepped out of her hiding spot, cautiously hobbling towards him on only three legs, the forth being dragged along. She didn't even try to pick her dragging hoof off the ground, it was easier to drag it, requires less effort on her part. After a few more strides, she halted. She tried facing him head-on, hoping to talk to the hybrid stallion. He intrigued her, with his tornado and coloring. She wasn't sure what to say at first, so awkwardly stood there, her eyes fixed on the ground until she decided to speak. "Hel-" her voice croaked, and she coughed, trying to clear her throat and begin again. "Hello," she said much clearer. Perhaps he wouldn't hear her accent yet, but he'd surely hear it when she strings together a sentence. Her accent is thick and it makes it somewhat hard to understand her. She remembers meeting the orange hybrid, suddenly remembering that he had the lions tail, also. So did the golden, unicorn, spy! So, she'd actually seen three others with this feature, counting this stranger, she knew four horses with lion's tails. The population with this particular kind of tail was small, but it was a feature that she rather liked. Just like some horses like chestnut horses, others like bays, others like greys, so on and so forth, Dröm likes these fancy tasseled tails. "I am Dröm, Storyte-" she cut herself off. It had momentarily slipped her mind that she was no longer a part of the Hidden Falls, and no longer a Storyteller. A frown found its way to her features, and it would appear she was deep in thought, but only for a second before she corrected herself and began once more. "I am Dröm, an outcast." Could he even hear her inside of that tornado? He appeared to be looking at himself, and she figured he was deep in thought. She quickly pondered just leaving. This conversation, no, this attempt at starting a conversation, had grown rather taxing. She began worrying about his health, wondering she should grow a flower that could heal him, worrying about her appearance, her own health, worrying that he would judge her disheveled appearance harshly, and worrying that he wouldn't understand her words at all. Her eyes quickly looked up for a second as she searched for his own eyes behind the wall of wind. By this point, no more tears were falling from her eyes and her cheeks were drying. If he hadn't heard her wail a few minutes ago, he would not be able to tell that she was crying at all. ooc: Hope you don't mind me popping her in here :3 ![[Image: 53d6f2ea9010d]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/photo/action/view_image/photo_link/53d6f2ea9010d) pixel by baylee
05-02-2015, 10:25 AM
camon. Dreaming of a could be Surprise and a light sprinkling of fear HAD made me obvious to all commotion going on outside my private bubble of turmoil. I'd stomped, bucked, and catawhooped like an idiot. Probably pissed off half the sleeping acreage within a mile of me and would eventually lure in the other half. Had this fixated brain been working, I would've hauled tail from this entire area; found some other mirror to stare at. Far from those that could have heard me.
@[Dröm]
05-06-2015, 08:58 PM
The slender girl's approach was not truly the normal way to approach a horse, but a strange way. The colorful stranger she approaches seems caught off guard. He jumps slightly as his eyes catch her emerging form. Her brow furrows slightly, and her previously somewhat confident approach is now hesitant. When she speaks, she can't help but feel uncomfortable. She'd always been friendly and had easily been able to make many friends, but something deep within her is broken now. What was broken was uncertain, and not even she knew herself. She had not been present recently, lurking in the shadows, barely eating, never speaking to anyone. In fact, this stranger is one of the two horses she has talked to in months.
He seems repulsed by her, or at least that is what she is feeling from him, and her gaze falls on the floor. She feels insecure, knowing his eyes are undoubtedly tracing over every bone that is protruding rather hideously due to being unhealthily thin. He seems deep in thought when she steals a few glances upwards, her lashes fluttering momentarily before she quickly diverts her gaze away from him in a somewhat embarrassed fashion. When he does answer her, her eyes finally find his and settle there. He questions her... alrightness. A small smile plays with her cracked lips, revealing pearly teeth. Dröm's face instantly lights up, the smile seeming to brighten all her features. After all, the prettiest thing you can wear is a smile. "I think I've a stone stuck in my hoof..." she tells him sheepishly, as if this was a thing that would only happen with a child. She in no way expects the stallion to help her dislodge the stone. In all honesty, she wouldn't even know how to get it out. Wait for it to fall out? That method sounded long and painful. Taking it out now would be better. The golden girl has never had a stone wedged in her hoof, if you can't tell. The cyclone that circles the stag does not let up, staying strong and certain. She wonders if this is a new thing for him, or if he's always had this thing encasing him. The golden rabbit had seen no thing near similar to the cyclone that guarded him from outside forces. Secretly, she wanted to reach out towards him, to know how the wind felt against her dusty muzzle. Instead of fulfilling some deep interest of hers, she simply watched him. After a moment, she realized she really didn't know who this stag was, but his company was surely much better than the company of her shadow, which never answered her. Surely the world saw her as a creature to pity, right? From an attractive golden Storyteller, to a simple herd mare, and now a dull and tired outcast. Her life had take an unexpected turn, but not exactly a bad one. Yes, she was lonely and thin and tired and had a stone in her hoof, but she wasn't stressed at all, and she didn't worry about letting anyone down because there was no one to let down. Perhaps the life of an outcast was more suited for her. Except for the shortages of food, that sucked. pixel by baylee
05-11-2015, 01:58 PM
camon. Dreaming of a could be There are all sorts of individuals in this wide, wonderful world; seventy percent are users and losers. Five percent are those who saw their life as half full, another five would testify that theirs is half empty...fifteen percent are the deep thinkers that would swear on mortal feats, (because they don't believe in heaven or hell) they proclaim this world to be a figment of our mind, nothing more than a graceful calculation. The remainder are those like my outstanding self -- that gave zero shits as to what or why any of the above thought or argue over.
@[Dröm] - sorry for the wait
 pixel by baylee
camon. Dreaming of a could be My damped luck seems to hold out. (Considering the previous misfortune and a wasted hour spent thrashing against the wind like an idiot; I certainly felt that even a small wave of good fortune was owed.) Her flesh quakes beneath my adolescent stare; it soon enough stiffens subconsciously, outlining that unflattering mudpath of hard travel. Yet, as far as I've seen, there are no glares or even a tail slap to ward away wandering eyes from temptation. With awkward practice, my expression tries to maintain it's casual facade -- even so, heat builds along these cheeks. I'm now fully conscious of those watchful eyes tracing my every move. It's not like this is the first time I've been close to a woman...ok...well...maybe it's the second.
@[Dröm] - again... sorry for the wait ^^; and sorry he is such a...idk....kid | |||||||||||||||||||||||
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