the Rift


[OPEN] Keep Yourself Warm

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
#1
Under the soft shades of nightfall the cave appeared to be a frightening entity, warding off visitors until the sun again rose above the cusp of the horizon. Yet, I’d seen the magical wonders just below the surface, a beautiful maze of color and rock, and I’d delighted in the mystery once before… until meeting the strange man that was Reginald. Our meeting had been all too brief, albeit disconcerting for me to regard him in one way or another, but something in the way he exposed me, or pressured me, made me want to see him once more. He possessed such a masculine quality, one that was so rarely seen upon so short an introduction… Perhaps I suffered merely from my curiosities or perhaps I’d simply taken too easily to his wicked spells- either way, I was still left… wondering.

A distant storm bent in from the south and the scent of rain made the air thick and moist. The thunder itself rumbled low and stretched as long as my muted breath, but with the mouth of the cave lingering just ahead, I knew I would escape the coming rain. However, my apprehension kept me from pressing forward, even with the knowledge of the approaching tempest. Night had inevitably fallen over most of Helovia and my mind was torn between seeking shelter beneath an unfortunate ledge that proffered no real security from the kind of storm I was anticipating, or simply giving in to the temptation of the cave… You can imagine the more logical choice proved successful, if fearsome.

With Romul tailing behind, his eyes wavering against the path ahead and the path already travelled, I felt more at ease. His thoughts were a quiet mixture of rising inquisitiveness and awareness; he was more like a circling hawk than a spirited wolf in such situations, and I thanked him for his caution despite the incessant thrumming of my nerves. In a way, the Heart Caves reminded me of fear and awe- never one without the other. I couldn’t navigate the canals like I assumed many before me could do, and that made the cavern something altogether terrifying. It reminded me of being buried alive.

When the rushing of a waterfall became more apparent upon passing the Sanctuary, or the wall of lava that had greeted me upon encountering Reginald, I followed. It was nothing more than a dull ache at the back of my senses until it grew into something wildly erotic. At first it took many attempts to locate the right pathway, but upon finally stumbling down a slender passage that opened up into the most beautiful waterfall I’d yet seen… I was amazed. It was nothing like the ones I’d witnessed during my time in the Falls, however painful their memory might have been. Somehow it was like a rich reminder of what I’d left behind- a multicolored rush that dipped into a pool of rippling teals and blues. Somehow the sight of it lanced through the worry that had been building since I’d arrived; I was happy to discover that the cave was not all darkness, but light as well.

It didn’t take Romul long to plunge headlong into the waterfall’s base and as I watched him paddling against the current, I smiled. The tingling fear from before had not passed, but at least I could revel in the happiness of my companion, no matter how volatile the world grew just above… and for once, I didn’t mind forgetting it.
essetia & romul
Knox

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

Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#2



 Knox
          We didn't know we knew you 'til we lost you
</style>

Knox chooses to stop only briefly at the surface of the caves, feeling that his mother and elder brother's graves deserve less regard than that of his father. But still, as he follows Manhattan's eager, quick and bobbing pace into the tunnels, he cannot help but feel a twinge of guilt and sadness for his youngest brother. Where is Darwin now? Has he turned completely white, reflecting his father in all manners but temperament? And how many times has he taken flight on fiery phoenix wings by now? How much more of the world has he seen from above that Knox never will? Is Darwin now someone different than Knox had ever known? It is likely, Knox thinks.

It has been a long time.

With his head low and a cloak of shadow hanging over his features, he follows Manhattan into the deep caverns. If not for the retriever at his side, Knox would not have found these caves. He is shocked to see a whole set of tunnels and caverns beneath the heat of the heart. How long have they been there? How much has changed in the time that he has been journeying?

Knox huffs, his breath floating oddly in the underground dark. His gaze catches on the quartz lining the walls; he glimpses brief moments of his reflection, the soft glow of his bridle creating patterns of refraction that only the cave is witness to.

Soft echoes arrive, flooding Knox's ears with the sounds of water's rush. Manhattan only cast a quick glance at her bonded master, reading his thoughts, before taking leave of him and rushing forth. Manhattan! Knox growls in his thoughts, fearing unexpected company might take advantage of her exposure.

There is nothing to do but follow her--and fast. Knox darts forward suddenly, his hooves pounding against the hard of the stone and creating faint, muffled echoes through the caverns. He grimaces at the soft sound made by each landing, hating the vulnerability. How is he to return on his own terms if Manhattan insists on exposing them like this? He can only hope they are alone.

But when Knox turns the corner and the tunnel opens into a larger space, he knows his discretion is lost. Manhattan bolts forth into the water, chasing after a glimmering creature coated in white that Knox, in his hastiness, cannot make out. He halts sharply at the opening, behind but not noticing the mare who watches over the small wolf, and starts to call Manhattan back before his mind is blocked.

Let her enjoy herself, Anaan murmurs into Knox's thoughts. The young stallion snorts and kicks beneath the cloak, knowing full well the wisdom in his grandfather's words and wanting to ignore them nonetheless. Let her have her youth this once, the protector added.

Struck with guilt, Knox cannot fight back. It is for her own good, he insists weakly as he watches her splash and paddle through the water, her forepaws playfully batting towards the white wolf and her jaws opening to playfully bite at the other companion's scruff. Knox notices, now, the badger faced mare by the shore. Will she hurt Manhattan? He stiffens, but Anaan soothes his very bones with a gentle offer to take over his form.

Knox obeys and his figure flutters, revealing the handsomely greying, blue roan figure of Anaan. Knox struggles still at the protector's suggestion that the cloak be nothing more than a defense mechanism; he insists that, at least for a time, it remain. But the shadow-mask he wears is only a false sense of security. It is Manhattan that Knox still fears for: Manhattan, swaying in the gentle waters she so loves. It has been a long time since he has let her relax in this way--a long time since either of them have had a moment to. Perhaps that is the charm of returning home.

Knox steps forward and into the water, making soft ripples and immersing the scarred forelegs of his grandfather in the cool chill of the pond's shore that dips closer to the entrance and arcs behind the mare.

It is good, the protector thinks to his descendant with a sigh of relief, to soothe such old and aching wounds.

And Knox, feeling the fresh pain of the burns on his grandsire's body, lets his cloak fall into ripples on the surface of the water. For the protector's sake, for the forgetting of old, waking memories of pain, he pulls himself deeper into the water and lets it wash over his scars--dips his face into the cool, and lets the comfort of these caves slip between the brown bridle and the young, handsome face beneath it.

It has been a long time, since he has felt such a salve as this.


[[Full permissions granted. Knox is currently in the form of Anaan, behind Essetia. Neither he nor Manhattan are cloaked.]]

Credit

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
#3
The sound of the waterfall is comforting as I close my eyes against the violent rushing. I am more than content to lose myself to my imagination as I dream again of the Hidden Falls, but more so of the life I lived there. I dream of the vibrant greens and the cool blues, I dream of the moist heat and the subtle breeze, and I dream of the tall grasses that would brush my knees- a calming sensation that I so often enjoyed. Yet, those dreams are clouded by ruin that I cannot picture because I am too afraid; they are clouded by the death of Midas and the pain of knowing that my world has again been ripped at the seams. It is my vulnerability that is revealed in such loss, my insecurities showcased for the entire world to see, and I am nothing more than the daughter of a King who betrayed his crown. I am a coward just as he was.

There comes a gentle clicking that grows in volume the more I strain to hear it. At first I am convinced that it is my incessant need to fear, but when I open my eyes in order to stare out at Romul thrashing about near the shore, I am certain that the ticking is only growing closer, more frightening. My alarm is quickly transferred to Romul who, bless his heart, halts mid-romp in order to gaze down the narrow tunnel that led us into the dimly lit cavern. At first his expression is stern, volatile, but it eases swiftly into a wolfish grin that puts me at ease. However, when the wolf leans down into his front legs, eager and waiting, I cannot avoid chancing a brief glance toward the passage. But, I am too late or perhaps too shocked to recognize the black retriever when she comes bounding toward the water’s edge.

Apprehension builds in my chest when she launches at Romul with her mouth gaping and her excitement rolling off her shoulders in waves. I am suddenly torn between yelling and plunging into the waters myself, though I know Romul to be an animal capable of fighting his own battles. However, like a mother hen, I stride hesitantly into the tide until the current wavers just above my knees. I stare fixedly at the pair, confused by the dog’s sudden appearance, before finally settling. They appear to be quite chummy given the circumstances, but I worry about Romul’s nature, given how he had once received Rostislav’s hellhound. Nervously I sway, deciding whether or not I should again retreat to the shore… but there is something freeing in the water, something comfortable in my companion’s ability to play and relax. I long for such peace, despite knowing how selfish I feel for at last feeling… content.

I have no right, no permission, to appear so carefree when Midas is dead- when Africa is suffering. I have no right to move forward when so many are trapped in the past, but what about my tears? How little they matter when mounted against the loss of an entire herd, an entire family that was once mine. As I watch Romul, snorting and splashing and playing, I cannot help but feel sorrowful that I will never again feel so free. I have seen too much, endured too much, to ever again be the pale flower I was once was. It is a sad realization to know that my petals have been tinged with red…

The splashing and the romping suddenly draw to a pause and I look again to Romul and his mysterious partner, only to notice that his eyes are careful and guarded. “Essetia,” he urges silently. His chin produces a constant dribble of turquoise water and his coat is matted against the taut skin all along his chest and legs, but he still appears a force to be reckoned with. However, I am unaware of any missed steps, or rather any disturbances to our moment of blissful ignorance. Yet, the wolf is adamant and he begins retreating toward the shore with his head lowered and his shoulders hunched. When I turn to observe his train of concentration, I am suddenly alarmed and somehow calmed by the creature that has forced my companion to take up arms.

The stallion is like a ghostly vision made up of war and secrets. Never before have I seen such a battle-beaten animal with eyes like the ocean’s blue- an almost picturesque moment that leaves me speechless despite my horror at finding him at my back. The man is a heavy creature with thick bones and a muscular neck that appears firm as he bends to dip his muzzle toward the rippling current. I am no longer in question of his retriever -though I had been satisfied with her mysterious apperance only a moment before- and I am unsure whether or not to interrupt him or the tranquility we’ve achieved in our oblivion. Yet, even as I believe myself capable of conversation, I am still reeling, still pushing through my thoughts and my ideas until there is nothing left but a sense of vague emptiness.

Romul emerges from the pool, skirting the stallion to reach me, and yet watching him with crude, vicious eyes. If I were in but any other situation I would have reigned him in, but I was quite raw, nearly careless, and willingly to let the wolf support me in his overprotective reaction. He had come to know me all too well… Yet the silence is too much, and my mind too foggy, to ignore the stallion’s presence for long. “Is she yours?” I question distractedly while bringing my gaze to hopefully match his own. I am still uncertain and perhaps a bit fearful, but with death lingering just outside our door, what else could fate possibly construct to drag me further into the pit of despair I’d somehow found myself a casualty?
essetia & romul
@[Knox]

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

Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#4



 Knox
          We didn't know we knew you 'til we lost you
</style>

Manhattan's joy is short lived. Knox watches, ancestor's blue eyes narrowing with concern, as the white wolf ceases in their play and returns to the shore and the side of the mare. Presumably a companion, then. The shifter is not surprised.

Knox senses his own companion's hurt, her faint sting of rejection, and calls her to him with a mental beckoning and a low, steady hum that she has long since learned is her command to heel. She was blind when Knox first taught her this: now, after almost four years together, she feels its vibrations in her chest each time as if it were the first and remembers the pain that caused such a call to be created. She is thankful for her master's dedication and his attention. Tonight--the retriever resolves as she answers him, gliding discreetly back to shore--she will catch him a meal. Perhaps then, she her master will break his fast.

Manhattan's disappointment at being so utterly left along in the water by the white wolf, who so quickly returned to shore, is palpable in Knox's breast. But as she arrives beside him he dips his grandsire's heavy features and nudges her kindly. The roman nose of Anaan, formed by battle, traces the line of her spine with care, parting the wet fur and gently inhaling the familiar warmth of her scent. It is good to have Manhattan. It is good to have her comfort.

Just as the hunter is thinking this, the mare breaks the silence. "Ah, see, Hatta? They just didn't know where you came from, that's all," Knox murmurs lowly to his companion, exhaling and stirring the dry patch of fur between her ears. Manhattan, eyes cast blankly forward and jaw idly dripping with jealous poison, snaps her gaze to the mare and the wolf and swallows just as her magic threatens to soil the water's purity. Her tongue reemerges, lolling pleasantly, perceiving the mention of her to be compliment.

Knox smiles the bright, warm smile of Anaan. There is a tired ache in his bones, the exhaustion of fire and war, but he musters up gentility with ease. "I think it's more fair to say that she is her own," the protector says smoothly, his deep tones blanketing the surface of the water and skipping their way over to the mare, "but yes, we are bonded."

At this, Manhattan moves closer to Anaan's scarred chest in the water, starting to swim as the pool deepens, and nudges her disguised master. The protector lowers his head obediently, and the retriever grabs a hold of one side of his neck with her claws, scrabbling up and pulling herself to rest across his back. The protector winces and casts the mare a smile over the reflections between them, taking pause as Manhattan makes tight circles on his spine before laying down. Her wet coat drips water down the roan's sides, and her tail slaps the thick stallion's flank with content. "And the wolf, he is your companion?" The question is offered with a tone of compliment and no recognition of Manhattan's behavior. It is something Knox has taught his ancestors to expect from the bonded retriever. "He is an impressive creature," Knox supplements through his ancestor's lips, "surely a strong one."

Neither the protector or the hunter make a move to stir through the gentle tide. They watch from their distance, feeling no need to close the gap and no need to widen it. Anaan's silken tail floats and scatters along the surface of the water at his back; his mane's black ends gather in wet bunches that stick to his neck and chest, creating an appearance of thin stripes rising from the black burns that he sports. His blue eyes are careful, delicate, reassuring. Neither he, Knox, nor Manhattan means harm to the pair they have encountered. Knox can only hope they understand that--that his attitude have more influence on his reception than his appearance.

[[@[Essetia]]]



Credit

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
#5
It’s like watching a ghost of the past, a wavering image that pulses and writhes beneath my careful stare, before I realize it is merely the water casting its reflection across the stallion’s hide. There is only the light from above to see him by and his features are somewhat blurred by the lapping of the tide and the slanting of its translucent glow. Yet, I am contented by the vision and am somehow calmed by the moving of the shadows across the pool while I watch it gather and recede against the muscles of his chest. I study the scarring there and dream of the hell that marred a canvas perhaps once crafted in perfection. When I can no longer imagine a world of war and disaster, I move upward toward the ridge of his nose and the soft sloping of his face. I cannot tell if what I see in his eyes is wisdom or deflection and though I am tempted to speak, to say anything that might keep me from watching him any longer, I do not.

Instead I turn my pale gaze to the retriever as she begins paddling toward her presumed master. It lingers there until she arrives at his side, the stallion welcoming her with the dipping of his nose and the inhaling of her scent. It is a surprisingly intimate display that catches me off guard and I sigh –a gentle sound that is overpowered by the rushing of the waterfall— before turning to seek out Romul. The wolf is ready and waiting for my signal because he knows that what I decide will only impact his reaction to the pair, but I blow softly against his ear and he relaxes. There is certainly something magical about the love and companionship of a bonded animal… but it is only intensified by the feeling of longing and need for that creature. It is an addiction that cannot be satiated.

As I turn back again to find the great stallion still wading against the tide, I notice that his lips are moving –low and soft— perhaps entreating the retriever. The dog responds in kind with an almost characteristic smile or an understanding that far exceeds my own. They are unified by their bond, an old duo that has long since become one, and I am inspired by their closeness even if I am still unsure of their company.

When the stallion finally lifts his eyes to my own, I am struck by their deep blue once more. The distance between us does not allow me a close read, but I can see in their corners a weariness not matched in his body. For all that I know of the man, age is not something I assume him a weakness… but there is something- something untold or something that I cannot grasp in merely looking at him that simply exists in those smiling eyes. They are warm, as if friendly, but distant as if seasoned. Perhaps he has travelled a great deal in his lifetime or perhaps he is merely a quick study of the world, but I am suddenly curious to know who he is.

When he speaks, his voice reverberates across the water in waves, though his response is not entirely unexpected. I smile at his sentiment and glance down toward the retriever of which he speaks. Even as I nod in agreement at the stallion’s confession, I am again taken with the concept of their closeness. “She is beautiful,” I concede on a breath. Again the dog captures her companion’s attention and I watch as she grapples at his neck and mane, finding purchase so that she might drape herself across his wide back. I chuckle at the sight and shuffle forward a step, almost hoping to mimic the action with Romul. But I stop. I don’t want to lose myself to whatever fantasies I’ve conjured in my head… I am not a mare so easily accepting of strangers.

Romul grumbles slightly at my hesitance, or perhaps only because he is impatient, but I urge him on after sensing his desire to return to the water. I watch him go, a creature too comfortable in his own skin, and nod when the stallion inquires about our own bond. “Indeed he is… I found him as a filly and we’ve grown up together,” I answer dreamily. Romul is more than my companion in many ways because he has adopted many roles throughout my life. He has played playmate and guardian, confidante and advisor… He is everything I was denied at so young an age. “Thank you, but I’ve always believed him to be… invincible,” I state with a half-smile while staring out at the wolf as he again bites and paws against the surf. “He wouldn’t approve of anything less,” I improvise playfully.

On a whim I turn toward the stallion, whose name I don’t know, and think about how we’ve come to be here together. There is a certain bliss in his company that I have yet to witness anywhere else and for a moment I think to question his presence before deeming it altogether unimportant. Instead I forget my fears and press forward into the pool until it laps against my shoulders, the cool pressure of it slowing my heartbeat. My nerves are still electric and the creep of a hot blush makes my neck warm, but I am somehow content with the feeling and the unknowing. I don’t want to be anywhere anymore or do anything anymore… I just simply want to be.
essetia & romul

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

Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#6



 Knox
          We didn't know we knew you 'til we lost you
</style>



Knox expects Manhattan to depart and chase after the white wolf, but is surprised when, this time, she stays close to him. Now you stay, the hunter thinks to his bonded as his grandsire's eyes cast over the cool cave pond. He expects Manhattan's response to be wittier than it is, and is surprised when she replies with nothing more than a simple and honest truth.

You wouldn't have known her, Manhattan offers, and Knox knows that his companion is right. But is it a pleasure to know this other mare? Knox finds pleasure in so few things, that has always been the case. He turns his dripping face back to his companion, nudging her where she rests as if to impart his question. Will she know the answer? This mare, to Knox, she is just another mare. Some other passing ship in the night. He has known so few who have struck him to the core with kindness and something like affection--and now, for a brief moment, his heart stutters at the thought of Aylin, of Mesec, and the Goddess he left behind--and this mare... she isn't one of them. Not yet, maybe not ever. He hides a frown with expertise. Manhattan is right, she is only here because of him, but is his canine cohort the only reason he remains?

Knox looks back to the water and stares at his distorted reflection. His question is answered, then, in the same instant that Manhattan tells him why he is still here:
for Anaan.

And Knox knows, as he stares into the deep blue eyes of that battle-beaten wise one and traces the lines of those heavy black scars, the physical marks of a fear that will never be forgotten, he knows that this is the truth. This is why he stays, to bring an old patriarch comfort after so many years of pain and then darkness: so many years of a still heart.

The hunter lends the protector his life. His own history floods that of the protector, and Knox recedes, resting in the back of his own mind. Let the protector take on this role, and let him have the comfort in company he so deserves.

Anaan lifts Knox's gaze and watches as the mare speaks, taking in her every detail. She is young, but so is he--he suspects they are of a close age. And when she speaks of childhood, of growing up with Romul, he feels a stirring in his own heart. He grew up with a companion, didn't he? And he had a life of love with her, and now, she lies upon his back. Didn't I always have you, Manhattan, Anaan whispers in his mind, loud enough still for the bonded of his host to hear, were you not always mine?

And the dog knows he is wrong, that he is sad and his mind is strong but longing, and weakened now in a state of sorrow that blinds. And the dog knows that the roaned back she lies upon is not the back of the one who saved her in the deep woods so many years ago. The hooves in the water are not the ones who fought away the beasts that hunted her then, and the broad, burned chest that just rises above the surface is not the one she curled beside that very first night as a pup.

Still, she knows she must lie.
Yes, she thinks, Yours

At this thought bursting into his head, Anaan smiles widely. He smiles at the mare, who stands far and above, closer to the shore. He smiles at her white companion as he paddles in the water, away from them. He smiles at the dim shadows cast on the bay's already dark coat and the feminine muscles she sports. He smiles at the line of white so perfectly framing her features, and the starkness of her eyes in the cave where they rest. He smiles at the water lapping at his chest--smiles as the mare walks towards him and lets it do the same for her. Smiles at the way her black tail catches on the surface of the water as she moves and drags silver lines in its wake. Smiles at, he thinks, the sound of her voice as it echoes in the cave. Smiles at something more that he doesn't quite know how to explain.

When the mare is closer, he answers her at last. "She has been with me too, since I was young." Manhattan lifts her head from between his shoulders at this, extending her nose tentatively towards the mare and dropping her jaw to take in her scent. "A good thing to have a friend like this," he says with a low nod of his head, a dipping of his graceful, crooked nose. He contemplates invincibility--in some way, immortality. Is this what he has, now, as he stands here after his death? Can he know that he is still dead and that these lungs are borrowed, this breath exhaled from a soul other than his own?

"Take care, still, for the invincible," he adds sagely, deciding that even those who seem to be in power are vulnerable to something, to someone, to some power that tethers them. "If he is anything like she," and here he tosses his neck back to Manhattan, his mane flipping as he does so, "then his invincibility can only be as strong as yours."

There is a pause, a beautiful moment of silence and everything encompassed in the soft splashes of water that echo around the quartet in the cave. "Our strength is what makes us, but it our weaknesses that companions such as these two counter. Our gaps that they fill, our fears that they face for us."

The protector looks out over the water at the wolf and then deep into the mare's white eyes and the passion that lies within them. "Your eyes," he says, "it is as if he was borne from them."

And then the silence returns to Anaan, like a well covered over before the storm, and the protector lets the world impress itself upon him--the water on his scars and the object of his tireless affection resting kindly on his borrowed, ancient back.



[[Essetia]]

Credit

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
#7
The water is cool against my skin, so much so that it smarts and prickles as the gentle waves reach up to submerge me, pull me into their light. But I don’t care. I only want the world to be washed away with the dirt and pain of the past. For a moment I am so blinded by my need to forget that I slowly dip my face toward the water’s surface, wondering whether or not I can drown myself in the days to come. Everything else around me falls from my shoulders like a blanket being shed before the heat of day and, oh, how I wish I could reject it all.

I listen to Romul as he grunts and snaps at the water, sometimes crooning to the retriever in hopes that she will rejoin him. Yet I cannot find it within myself to look at anything in particular, lost as I am to the tranquility I’ve discovered in the cavern with those who have no names. But names would only ruin what we’ve created; they would shatter the fantasy we’ve drawn onto the rocks with our secrets and I’m not quite ready to admit my tragedies. I only want to relive my childhood, here and now.

When at last the waterfall and its spray become a part of the essence that nurtures not only my body, but my mind, I turn without guilt or fear toward the stallion and his scars. He appears so far away as he studies the lapping of the current and I am somehow amazed by it. I want to go there, I tell myself silently. But where did he go when his mind was set to wander? Would I ever have the courage to ask?

Instead, I press further into the pool, surpassing even the brute and his companion. In a way I seek to hide the longing that plagues my heart and the questions that dry my tongue. I have never seen anything like him, never encountered such an enigma. I feel as though I am trying to touch something intangible and give it breath where it can no longer subsist. But it does not keep me from wondering whether he would feel should I run my muzzle along his back. Or would he simply dissipate and shatter, a black shadow incapable of traversing the light that drove men from madness?

Perhaps I am the only one touched by hysteria’s sorrow this day, as mindless and distracted as I’ve become. Yet, I cannot mistake his interest when two eyes made of the summer sky turn my ghosts into sunlight. But I’m afraid to fool myself and believe in a lie that I’ve told myself time after time. He’ll leave just like all the rest, I whisper internally. What would it matter? Romul interjects, pausing to study me mid-romp. Ess, you’re never alone, he whimpers. But I am. I’ve always been this way.

The wolf’s protests are voiced openly and the timbre of his cries becomes a quiet wolf-song that carries over the waters and makes me smile. How many times had this symphony soothed the aching that slowly turned to my heart to stone? Like a disease, my disappointments sculpted a beautiful disaster from within. They were the mason and I the rock from which they forged a wall. Soon the wall would become too tall to mount. Soon, I thought, I will never get out.

"She has been with me too, since I was young."

I am torn from my self-pity like a child from the womb and I can see again the stallion’s distorted reflection in the water. It ripples and dances like a dream that I can never have and when I have watched it for too long, I turn my eyes back toward the retriever. However, the creature I find is not the one I remember. She is changed slightly, somehow unrecognizable from before, and I cannot tell if it is my own perception that has replaced her or if there was something truly different in the way she appeared. “Would you really call her a friend? It seems like a term unsuited for what they really are… They are so much more,” I reply wistfully while regarding Romul with an adoring smile. When I finally gather the nerve enough to recover from my daydreaming, I find that the retriever has bent toward the water seeking to acquaint herself with my scent. Slowly, I approach the pair with my neck arched low enough to catch an errant wave or two.

When I am close enough to inhale the scent of both companion and master, I breathe in deeply, nostrils flaring and trying to place such a fragrant mixture of earth and dust into a memory that has seen so little. As if content with the exchange, I lift my head as cautiously as I’d arrived. I am suddenly struck by our proximity but am comfortable with our closeness, even without Romul at my side. “I am careful enough to allow him what I have… even if I am left bare,” I answer in response to the stallion’s advice while looking again at the wolf, lost in his oblivion. “We are by no means unbreakable if the past has served any indication. I merely find it unjust to rob him of what little illusion is left.

I listen as the brute regales me with his wisdom and I am saddened to admit that what he says is true. I have made Romul the protective guardian of my soul and in return have fed him only weakness. However, I cannot force myself to confess to this and simply nod in agreement. I feel heavy with so many memories in which I have left the wolf to fumble and carry the slack from my inabilities. Have I ever been strong? I ask him internally. For a time there is no reply, but when it comes, I feel only worse for wondering. Always Essetia… you are always strong for me. I love him for his forgiveness and his strength to overlook what I cannot. I wish I was able to forgive like him.

"Your eyes,"

"-it is as if he was borne from them."

Again I am caught off guard by the stallion’s words, as if I have forgotten his company. I know that what he says is meant to comfort me or compliment… but it devastates me. I am so gone from who I once was that no amount of pretending will ever award me my childhood again or the love lost… “He is the only reminder that I was ever someone else.
essetia & romul

@[Knox]

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

Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#8



 Knox
          We didn't know we knew you 'til we lost you
</style>



Nothing, not even the howl so mournful and the yips and barks, can tear Manhattan from her bonded's side now. The conversation the ancestor carries on with this mare intrigues her, and flatters her too. Her vanity has always been poorly concealed, perhaps for lack of practice. She can't remember the last time she was so heavily praised. Though her master is kind and loves her truly, his pride often seems to overshadow her dutiful companionship. She knows now, as Anaan speaks the truth of Knox's heart, that this is not so.

When the other mare first speaks, Anaan does not hesitate to smile. Little pup, she's read us wrong, he thinks. Knox knows this to be true, too--for his ancestor, anyway.

You could have been clearer, she comments, nudging his neck with kindness as she does so, ignoring his misperception of her youth. She is older than him, now--let him think otherwise.

Anaan takes his thoughts to the air, speaking before the mare can again. "You are right," the protector says, his smile edging on a grin. "She is more than a friend. She was a colt's first love." And here Anaan, the protector, remembers what Knox lived through as if it is his own life. He looks away from Manhattan, the message made clear.

And he, even the ancestor, knows that she knew it too, already.

"But, I was not talking about her as a friend," he goes on, his heart warm at the implication. He has been dead, lost, for so many years. Perhaps this mare, even unknowing of his trials, will find kindness in her heart to offer him the friendship he seeks now, in these waters. If it is, after all, even friendship.

She continues to speak and he listens with care. She is so close to him now, having drawn through the water like a fish that belonged there, and just as he is sure she can smell him, he takes in her scent. It is soft, dark, and cold. The words mean nothing but they are all he has for her. Manhattan's curiosity is whetted with her closeness--Anaan's, just beginning.

What do you think she smells on us, he asks the dog on his back in his thoughts.

Manhattan thinks she knows the answer. She thinks it might be shadow and ash, she thinks it might be thirst and loneliness. But she knows too that these are abstract things, these are things with no clear definition. And she knows even better that they are not what she can tell the delicate grandsire upon whose back she rests.

I don't know, she lies, placing her head carefully between his withers as she does so. Maybe your kindness.

This, too, has no real scent. Yet, this, too, she smells on her master's ancestor.

Anaan senses the disquiet he has brought to the mare with his words, and his smile fades. His intention was never to hurt, does she know this? He nickers softly, reaching forward, perhaps letting his lips brush the skin upon her back, almost perfectly aligned beside him. Manhattan chuffs and smiles.

Breaking all his rules, she thinks, referencing their shared link, the hunter, their kin.

Anaan says nothing in reply. He does not need to justify himself, and he catches the warm, delicate, and playful approval the bonded dog sends his way with her thought. This mare needs comfort, at least he can offer her that. If he were as distant and cold as Knox, he would have gotten nowhere as good in his life as he had: would not have had two beautiful sons to show for his gentility and perceptiveness.

"I have come to think," the wise protector begins, "that whoever I was without her is no good to me, now. She has only made me stronger." He tilts his head, dipping his nose into the water slowly and thoughtfully, and parting his lips to take a sip. The swallow is hard and passionate, the water a cool relief. When the protector turns back to the mare, he is smiling again.

"It is no use wishing we were that someone else again," he answers her sagely. "And if we must, we should follow the example of the past--the ancient us."

His eyes are strong, his blue gaze striking her white one with power. If only she knew how much this means to him--how close he lives to this life of the past that she dwells in, how he breaths it every second he is gifted with the life to inhale.

"In that moment we miss, we never would have wanted to stay as we were for our lifetimes."

Manhattan closes her eyes in sorrow and threatening sleep. The protector's tail sweeps across the water, and his flecked blue eyes, deep and familiar, never leave the whites of the mysterious mare. Let her learn something from this, this half-life that he knows--now, with the unfamiliar creature on his back--that he borrows to breathe in.

Let someone be better for his pain.


[[@[Essetia]]]

Credit

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
#9
Standing this close to fire would ultimately get me burned and whether or not I survived the heat was unclear. I only knew that the closer I came, the warmer I felt. It started slow, a choking ember that smoked and crackled, but it soon became an inferno so large I feared it would destroy us all in its flame. It spiraled and grew, a rampant wildfire that refused to be extinguished, and somehow -somehow- I was content to smolder. Standing this close, inhaling the unfamiliar traces of dust and earth and a life so far away, made me faint- breathless. The world had come to expect too much of me as of late… They wanted my loyalty, my promises, and even my flesh should the circumstances require. All of those things felt so cold and formal and routine, but he was different. I felt no pressure to repeat common formalities that ultimately meant little to anyone other than myself. There was no tension and no expectation… we just were and we would forever be exactly what we saw in one another’s eyes.

There was freedom in him… or rather just and image I wanted to remember long after he was gone. I didn’t mind if I burned because of it.

Quietly, I watched as my words coaxed a soft smile from the greyed warrior –for I could only assume as much from the blackened scars he wore- and nearly laughed when he was able to tempt me into smiling in return. “There’s no finer love,” I agreed while studying the retriever who listened with rapt interest. Clearly she was better suited for conversation than play, because she had all but ignored Romul’s attempts to engage her in their earlier antics. This prompted the wolf to pause and question her change of heart and eventually he came to paddle and whine against my shoulder. Since I was not yet comfortable with a forty pound wolf trying to claw his way across my back, I motioned for him to return to shore. I didn’t mistake the look of forlorn rejection in his eyes, but also knew that he often tried to tug on my heart strings when his desires didn’t come to fruition.

Besides, I feared that he would give away the concept of our proximity and more than anything I wanted to remain at the stallion’s side, if only to imagine this was the only universe in existence. Somehow we had managed to create a niche in this world of doubt and sin and, for whatever reason I felt so at ease with the warrior, I knew that I didn’t want to let it go so easily. “If not as a friend, then what? Since I’ve met Romul I knew there was a certain connection between us, but it was a connection that had no words in which to describe it. It just was and now it is. In truth, I feel more than “love” for him –whatever it means- and something else entirely. I’m afraid I just can’t articulate it,” I confessed shyly. Even as a pup, Romul was more than just my first love, he was… so much more. He was the part of my heart that could never be stolen and until the day I died, he would remain there.

As I looked again toward the rushing of the waterfall and the reflections that were sent cascading across the cave walls, I tried to imagine how the warrior saw them. Did he find them to be as enchanting as I did? Why was I so consumed with his opinions? What about him made me question everything- wonder about everything? He was nothing like Ulrik and his logic and coarse personality. Although, the Engineer had endured my frantic raving and somehow learned to see past it… What had happened to him since we’d parted? Why did I care? Even then, as I lost myself to the beauty and tranquility of the caves he was still on my mind… even if his image had begun to fade to grey.

”I have come to think,”

It was something like an electric kiss or a quiet buzzing beneath the skin –his voice- and when he spoke I was compelled to listen. “Romul has and always will be my reason to embrace the future, but he’s also a reminder of who I used to be… back when things were less… complicated,” I concluded with a slight whisper. I hated that he would question the past I spoke of and I hated that there was a possibility that I would answer. But, I only hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t come down to that… Anything but that. “The past is a heavy thing to carry when it is burdened with rocks. Over time only more weight is added… Romul is the only one who knows what it was like when there was no weight, just simplicity. I’ve never wished for an alternative life, but only to remember that there was once a time when he was not forced to carry my burdens with me,” I allowed distractedly while glancing around and finding the wolf himself. “You may be right in retrospect… I wouldn’t want to be the naïve young child I was, but there is certainly something comforting in the thought.
essetia & romul

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

Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#10



 Knox
          We didn't know we knew you 'til we lost you
</style>



Anaan is, if anything, one with a light heart. He has lived long enough but been dead for longer. He is a ghost, but his scars haunt him even in this strange sort of afterlife. What, he thinks now, as he watches this badgered-bay, is the point of thinking on the sorrows of that time?

It isn't that he wishes to be ignorant. As his gaze tenderly cups hers, as his ears cradle her words, he know exactly what he could say in response. He, through Knox's understanding of companionship, could tell her of the wordless eternity of a bond. He could tell her that those burdens can be lifted with effort, and with time, and with the help of another. He could tell her that none of it matters and none of it is worth her worry and that scattered look, that sudden glance--too sad for her features.

The ancient protector turns his gaze and lets it settle on the white wolf at shore. His tail, heavy with wet, flips up and carries with it a splashing of water--he brings it across his back, striking Manhattan gently and rousing her. He knows, he thinks, what this bay mare needs. He knows it is not more of his words, wise as they might be. And he knows, too, it is perhaps no more of her own. He has listened to her words, caught her gaze and sent his sympathies as best as he could in silence. Anaan is quiet, now, giving them a moment of nothing in the air, a moment to reside peacefully in that quiet of understanding, of I feel what you are feeling, I understand this pain, but have no words to speak. He can only hope she understands.

Go to shore, the protector insists.
Manhattan is unsure--her true master senses it, concurs: Go to shore.

And so the black dog descends from his back, sliding faithfully into the water and paddling, slowly, to shore. She drags herself out of the water, shaking suddenly, quickly, and gives Romul her attention. In his eyes she seeks an explanation of sorts. She has never before seen Knox do anything like this. She must remind herself, as she looks out over the water, that this is not entirely Knox. This gentler ancestor is his own being--his actions, too, his own.

Is she always... The retriever's question is a fragment not directed to her master, but to the other companion on the shore. She looks into the eyes of the larger wolf, wondering what he can say to her, wondering what she can finish saying to him. Her gaze trails out over the water and she watches with bright blue eyes as Anaan turns to stand before the mare. She watches as he extends his neck, outward and graceful, towards the company. He is whispering something to her, something that Manhattan hears echoed in her mind as "Just come into the water," something like, maybe exactly, "Come here." And Manhattan cannot tear her gaze away as he turns into the water--swimming slowly like a leaden leviathan towards the center of the falls, the water reflected beams across his scars--looking for all the world like a ghost. She cannot look away as she feels him dive, eyes shut and breath caught, thinking of how the emptiness of nothing touching him feels, again, like death. She is caught in the scene when she feels what the protector feels, his face reaching out to brush the mare's chest under the surface and then striking up for air, creating the echoing sound of a crash and threatening to soak what little is left of the badger-faced one that is dry. She looks at him even as he neighs out a laugh, offers a smile. Manhattan looks at what she could hear, what she could feel through their bond, and she cannot turn away. Her gaze trained outwards, her heart full of love and despair at misrecognition, she finishes the question: is she always there?


[[Essetia]]

Credit

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
#11
My weight was shed with him, my vulnerability exposed, and the layers of my defense completely disarmed. A soft sigh escaped me as I watched the walls around me crumble into ruin… How long had I been carrying my instabilities so close to heart? How long had I been trying to hide behind them? I was afraid to ask any more questions for fear that I’d discover answers I couldn’t yet face, but a single thought –one I tried so hard to repress- would not remain silent. It begged for light, pressed against my lips, and simmered deep inside until I was forced to wonder. Why? Why did this complete stranger move me to so much emotion? What about him allowed me to breathe after holding my breath for so long?

I could see myself in his eyes, my reflection being fragmented by shadows and secrets, but I was there nonetheless. It didn’t seem to be my fire that drew him to me like Ulrik, but my weakness- the only thing I was so ashamed to admit that I’d adopted an almost constant façade. I felt somehow relieved that he saw what I sought to conceal… I didn’t need words to explain myself. He was able to read everything I tried but couldn’t say. A certain calm reached across the water and I watched soundlessly as the stallion shifted to unseat his retriever before sending her back to shore. I turned to study her as she approached Romul and the wolf grunted softly as if to soothe my reservations. I’d never had to worry about the wolf, but my nerves were so fragile and careless that I needed something –anything- to distract me from the force of sheer will that was the warrior.

On the shore, Romul greeted the retriever with a muffled whine. However, he quickly paused when her fragmented communication splintered through his bond with Essetia. Never before had he experienced such a phenomenon and it took him a great while to understand what the retriever had asked of him. Slowly, his golden gaze was drawn to his companion and a subtle, wolfish frown parted his black lips. There was something in the sloping of the dog’s shoulders that told of possible sadness or perhaps it was just her reluctance to leave her “warrior” as Essetia called him. Either way, the wolf detected something… strange. Always…? he questioned. Always what? Was Essetia always so distant? Was she always so unpredictable?

Those were all questions the wolf had answers to, but answers that he was unwilling to share. Their sacred bond was something that could not be tarnished… it was the only thing that made the young wolf mindful. With thoughts of his mare coloring his mood, Romul glanced out at the bay with admiration and love. It had been so long since she’d been able to forsake her strength and recognize her weakness. It had been far too long.

I felt his heavy stare long before the wolf confirmed it, but I was glad to know he was watching. His protection was like a blanket to me, a sense of security that wrapped itself around me until I was no longer cold with doubt. Even when the warrior approached, his muscular neck extended –inviting- I was not afraid of what he would do or say. I was only curious. The sweet scent of his moist skin and the tickling of his breath against my ear- it was all so new. Had Ulrik ever been that gentle or concerned? Even if he hadn’t, what did all of it mean? I had so many questions and no reason to find answers because somehow my existence outside the cave was unimportant. Everything else was simply… gone.

Still embarrassed by his closeness, I nodded my consent to the stallion’s request and followed him further into the pool so that the water reached for my back and my hips. It lapped against my neck and I sighed, grateful for the coolness that tamed the sudden warmth the warrior lit within me. I imagined again what he’d been through as my eyes trailed the length of his back, wandering across old scars and old stories that I’d never hear. He was a vision of light where Ulrik was darkness… the two so different in my mind and yet both inspired more than my curiosity. I battled with my intentions for a moment, sussing out reasons and theories behind all of my complicated emotions. I didn’t know what any of it meant and at that moment I didn’t care…

That is, until I was forced to forget everything in the splashing of the soft waves, turned violent by the warrior himself. As he dove beneath the crystalline surface of the pool, I all but gasped. Ess?, Romul questioned from the shore at my back. I wasn’t sure what to do or how to answer the wolf and instead focused my gaze in all directions before jumping slightly when the stallion pressed his nose into me chest from below. When at last he resurfaced, his thrashing sprayed cold, glittering water across my face and for the first time since I’d arrived, I laughed. Truly laughed.

The wolf could barely believe his eyes, but did nothing to assist his companion because the retriever seems just as spellbound by the warrior as he. Again she attempted to question him about Essetia and again he struggled to comprehend. But, there was something about the pair that put Essetia at ease… something otherworldly. For a moment, he blinked and considered what the other wanted to know. Essetia was always there… just as she was here now, but Romul was hesitant to say as much. Did it matter either way what the retriever learned of his companion? Did it somehow threaten his bond with her? Yes, he finally replied. She’s never been anywhere but here, he stated while glancing down to his chest… to his heart.
essetia & romul
@[Knox]

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

Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Jen
#12



 Knox
          We didn't know we knew you 'til we lost you
</style>



Manhattan's suspicion has been confirmed, then.

This bond, this master and servant relationship she has so long carried out, this game that she and Knox have played at, is a farce. It is not how things are meant to be.

Hadn't she hunted with him once? Hadn't they run through the woods, siblings, once? Hadn't she had a family in Loretta and Archibald that he had forced her to leave behind? What good had he done her, since he had grown?

She looks out once more at the reflections cast upon the water. She hears the way the mare laughs at the stallion's touch. That stallion isn't Knox. That stallion is one she has pitied, and one who has treated her well, but it is not her bonded. Without a word to either wolf or brute, she turns to depart the scene.

Anaan does not notice her absence, not at first. He is too taken by the joy of this moment, too stirred by the laughter he has brought to the mare. This was all he wanted: to make her smile, to make her forget her burdens for a moment. And he, dripping with ghostly youth and the waters of the falls, cannot bear to hide his happiness. He has not felt like this, so alive, so in contact and concert, for a very long time.

Were it up to the protector, perhaps he would have stayed there for eternity. But Knox was not all lost, and when Anaan's blue eyes were trained on Essetia's smile, he was feeling the tug of a furthered bond, and the tether being strained. His whisper is quiet, his longing clear: "Manhattan..." Knox turns his head towards the retreating shadow and grabs for the reigns. The enchanted bridle tugs on Anaan's broad features.
Time to go, protector.

But the grandsire is like the child at the end of the playdate, the teen before the family gathering. He does not want to leave his place, he is rooted, commanding, and sure. He snorts, softly. Perhaps for the mare, the stranger, it is out of context. For the hunter it is clear: this will be a fight.
I cannot leave her alone, Knox thinks, stern.
Neither can I, replies the protector, his soft eyes trained on the bay in the water. He doesn't think she needs his protection but still there is a frailty to her and a warmth that he'd rather not part with. Maybe, it is he that needs her company. After so long being as bones in the soil, maybe she is what he needs.

Knox will not yield. His heart hurts with Manhattan's, his being insists. Suddenly, sharply--Anaan appearing as if possessed when in fact he is the possessor--he retreats to the shore. The swimming is slow, the ancestor's resistance a struggle, but he makes it there soon enough. Were it Knox alone acting, they would have gotten there with even more swiftness.

Were it Knox alone acting, no goodbye would have been said.

The hunter stands on the shore, his image the protector. Water slides across his coat and onto the floor of the cave. He glances down at the wolf, then back, slowly, tugged by Anaan's perception, to the mare. "I am sorry, I must follow her," apologize Anaan's delicate, deep tones.
There's nothing to be sorry about, Knox thinks with a mental scowl. But still, he obliges his tired ancestor. He will let him have this, at least.

"I would like to see you again," he called from the shore, looking back down to the white companion as his voice and remark tapered to a close. But where, and when? Anaan knew these caves, did he know anywhere else?

No, these were his underground tomb of a home. Beneath their fire, he resided in the peace of undeath. "Would you meet me in these caves again, once the season has turned?" The protector slaps his wet tail against his shivering legs. Knox itches to be free of the ancestral form--to run with Manhattan, and hunt.

Don't waste time, the hunter snarls. He is impatient, time has not taught him to be otherwise. He longs for his bonded's touch at his side. She is so wrong, he knows this when he sees her thoughts. She knows so little of his love for her, and how deep a river it is that runs.

"Soon," the protector manages to squeeze out before Knox is turning him, urging him, pushing him out of the cave. After Manhattan they go, trailing into shadow, turning in and out of each other. Knox, the hunter, reclaims himself. He must follow his bonded, once more.


[[@[Essetia]]]

Credit

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
#13
Romul can sense the retriever’s discomfort and he pities the dog her woes, but his concerns do not go unnoticed by Essetia… and she knows the moment is crumbling.

Suddenly the water feels brisk against my skin as it washes up and over my shoulders. It is like an icy blanket that clears my mind of any belief that my time in the caves could last forever. I hate them for leading me on… I hate them for letting me think they would stay. Romul’s apprehension is apparent despite the fact that my blood is still rushing and my heart is still pounding- is this happiness? I can only watch as the retriever departs, but I wait in an entirely different body… Back in the water, I am frozen, but there on shore I am in motion as I follow the dog toward the cavern’s entrance. Romul allows me sight where I cannot see, and though I can’t yet understand, he holds my heart against his until I am calm.

When I return to the water, I am all but sure… Slowly, the atmosphere becomes cold and unfeeling, just as it had been when I first arrived. The distance between us that was somehow fading has returned and nothing I do to defend the tender bond forming between the stallion and I can bridge the trembling rift. Then, as if I hadn’t watched her go, the retriever’s name drifts across his pale lips and I know that he will follow. I feign surprise as I look toward the shore, counting the seconds until he moves away, surely to be lost forever to me.

Goodbye

Is this always the word I know it to be? Is it an eternal state of being that only exists in the life I call mine or have the Gods cursed me from birth, a single girl meant to live out her days in solitude…? Or a girl meant to lose herself in the mind of her wolf until they are no longer two beings, but one? I have only questions that will go without answers and desires that can never be sated. I am a lost soul who tragically abandoned herself the day her father walked away from her love of him.

As if it is not enough to leave, I am forced to endure another farewell. His voice is hopeful, if strained, and I wonder what emotions have colored its impression on me. I only nod, my breath hitching on a disappointed sigh, “You must,” I whisper soft and low as if he will be able to hear me above the rushing of the waterfall. Romul does nothing to acknowledge the large brute when he turns those ocean-like eyes to him and instead casts a longing stare across the water at me… I thank him for his attention and he rewards me with a soft, guttural moan. Can we swim? he questions brusquely, Together?

Again I nod in compliance as I watch the stallion as he waits ashore and then I turn my eyes toward the narrow passage that will take him away from me. Yes, I tell Romul so that my focus is only on him. The wolf responds by moving forward into the surf and his nose is pointed upward toward the height of the falls. I watch him -always watching- and before he reaches me, the stallion calls out and I am forced to look up and study him once more. He tells me he wants to see me again. I want to tell him no.

Yes.

He asks me if I will return to the caves when the season changes. I want to deny him.

Of course.

He says that it will be soon and I know that he’s lying.

Very soon,” I call.

Then, I watch him leave and I don’t move until he is out of sight. I don’t move until he is out of mind… and yet he is never entirely gone.

I can’t move.
essetia & romul
@[Knox]

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


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