A small sigh passed my lips as I found myself at the Heavenly Fields once more. It had been quite some time since I had been here and the peaceful environment was something that I was striving for. Everything had become so chaotic and hopeless in my life recently that all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide for the rest of my life. I mean, I turned five this season. How much longer would I have to survive these issues?

I made my way into the center of the field, kneeling down into the long grasses that poked their way through my mane and tail. I followed through and laid down, rolling onto my side. My golden and cream pelt meshing with the greens that sprouted from the earth. Though the greens were now past their healthiest points. The Tallsun’s blazing sun had beaten most of the moisture from the grassy blades. It was dry beneath me, but most of my body felt numb. My head was throbbing with a bright blue and purple bruise that had found its way onto my forehead from that damned feline god in the Flats. I hadn’t managed to clean my skin since the meeting with Tembovu either. Parts of my neck, chest, and body were covered in dried dark blood. Pieces of my fur stuck up randomly with the blood of my lover.

Was he still my lover? Who the hell knew? I surely didn’t. I was saddened by the events that happened, and every time I closed my eyes while I laid in the grasses all I could see was the way that Tembovu protected the mare he called Nyx. Where my heart once felt striving anger, now only felt sadness. A sadness that I could no longer hold so well – hidden behind a mask of seduction and lust. What else could go wrong this season?

I could only sigh once more, eyes slowly opening to the sun as it blasted its heat onto my dirty flesh. The heat causing more pain to my face, but I didn't want to move. Perhaps this gentle pain was just a simple reminder. I sat up, the golden chain connecting from my horn to my ear swiveled slightly, getting stuck on three more golden chains that he had given me. My forehead was extra sensitive as I felt the movements of each of those golden chains slide across it. Setting my chin on the grass, I watched the lines of the trees, wondering what kind of events would happen this day.

He moves forward—upward. Returning to that place where dreams had taken him, blurring the line of reality, ethereal and impossibly beautiful. However, when he finally crests the mountain’s peak, it is not the otherworldly perfection of his reveries—perfectly serene, sheltered from the world below, as though he has been risen to his own nirvana—this, this is reality. Flicking his creamy tail irritably about his flanks, Rohan presses on, to the edge—the precipice—stumbling ever closer to a memory.

He likely would have missed her if it wasn’t for her movement, and the muted clinking of her golden chains as they slide across her face. Tilting his fluted ears forward, the striped stallion pauses in his measured gait, green eyes glancing around before he alters his direction appropriately. Normally the mare’s gilded hide would stand out starkly against lush green grasses, but with their tips now yellowed by summer’s heat, she is not so easily visible. Still, her camouflage diminishes as the distance between them dwindles into nothing.

“Rexanna? Is that you?” Rohan’s golden brow knits together for a moment, casting a shadow over his bright eyes as he inspects the resting mare—so different, and yet unmistakably the same damsel he had the pleasure of crossing many months ago. What the hell has happened to her since then? She seems almost defeated now, like she has given up on something—on everything?—contrasting significantly to the wily enchantress that had lingered in his dreams since that winter’s night.

Given all of this, much has happened in that time—the battle for each God, in particular. Rohan himself has been changed by these events, though to measures even he doesn’t recognize quite yet. It wouldn’t be a wild guess to assume that Rexanna has felt an impact as well. “I daresay you have seen better days, darling…then again, I think we all have,” his tone is playful at first, a coquettish tease, though the depth of his voice eventually fades into brooding contemplation. The Warlander likes to think of himself as a warrior at heart, but he has seen more bloodshed these past weeks than in his entire life, and it leaves him both hungry and guarded.

He hadn’t expected battle to be so taxing on the mind.

Lowering his antlered head to her, he allows his eyes to trace the contours of her face, lingering on the dried blood and bruises beneath her skin. “Still, this…colorfulness—it becomes you,” brown lips twist into a crooked grin, dancing on the line of a smirk as the sun throws stark shadows across his rugged face.


“Speech.”

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.

My face still hurt, but with each day and hour it seemed to get better. Not noticeably, but enough to where it seemed like there was hope that my face wouldn’t be permanently purple. And with that, I was happy but also pained. After the whole issue with that gray mare and Tembovu, I nearly wished I was scarred beyond recognition. But the Rift Gods couldn’t even answer my wishes with that. I sunk down into myself briefly before I saw slight movement and words. How did he get so close so quickly without me noticing? Who was – Rohan! A pleasant surprise, I lifted my head, shifting my neck slightly to gaze upon the other golden stag. The one whom I hadn’t seen since my first visit to the Rotunda. “Rohan, my friend.” I offered him a gentle smile. One that quickly faded as he said I had seen better days.

Stretching my legs out slightly, I decided against standing seeing as the pressure would throb my bruising even more. Way past the uncomfort I felt at the moment. I only nodded to him. “I believe we all have.” I said gently, noticing he carried the same salty windswept scent on his coat that Tembovu had. And then I began to wonder if that particular scent of his – something I had gotten so used to now, was really a scent of the Edge and not so much of the large mammoth I loved. Pushing the thought aside, blue eyes numbly watched the striped creature lower his head to mine. And he spoke again. I couldn’t help but to smile at him. He seemed to know what to say to keep my mind off of things just enough. I only nodded lightly, lifting my head to greet him – hoping to bump my velveteen nose into his own.

Then, I pulled my head back in and stood. Shaking off the yellowing blades of grass from my pelt before turning my attention to him. “Thank you. Alas, the blood isn’t mine.” I said gently, my voice carrying a slight amount of humor in the beginning only to fade out with the thought of just who’s blood it was. A small shiver rippled down my pelt and my tail whipped around my ankles in a slight annoyance before I looked over the tree lines of the Fields before turning my attention on him once more. “How have you been, Rohan? It’s been ages. You don’t smell so – outcasty anymore.” I smiled to him, humor creeping into my words again. Poking fun at the last time I saw him where he held the ideas that he didn’t want to belong to a herd. What had changed?

Whether it is only because of weariness or more deeply rooted reasons, it doesn’t take long for Rohan to notice changes in the golden mare. She is quieter than she had been before, less animated and not as coquettish with her gestures, the wily gleam in her eye that had haunted his dreams now muted (perhaps nearly distinguished beneath the bruised injuries that stamp her skin). However, the Warlander doesn’t allow himself to wallow for long in his pining of that gilded enchantress. The gods only know what she has endured in the months that have passed, and he likes to think himself optimistic, accepting what he can.

His brown nostrils quivering softly, Rohan presses his whiskery muzzle to her own, their breaths mingling in the warm summer air. Given her current state—colored much more grotesque by blood that is not her own, a fact he has yet to discover—the stallion half expects Rexanna to remain on the ground. Surprise flickers briefly across his rugged features when instead she rises, pushing herself up on shaking legs before steadying herself. The Warlander hovers for a moment, ready to come to her aid should she need it.

“Really?” He muses with a low rumbling of his voice, his green eyes skirting over the dried blood before trailing to her face. There is a ghosting sense of fascination mingled with the bewilderment of his tone, his thoughts running away with what Rexanna must have done to become coated with the blood of another (and a lover is certainly not among his fascinations). “I’d hate to see what the other guy looks like then; become a heroine, have you?” One side of his brow rises in amusement, a rascally flicker sparking through his eyes.

A dark-rimmed ear slants forward when the mare continues, an ease of comfort sweeping over the stallion’s bearing with her playful tease. “Indeed,” his unruly forelock dances as he shakes his head, entwining in the lower parts of his antlers, and a deep chuckle vibrates through his broad chest. “My wanderlust still lingers, but I’ve managed to join a herd now—the World’s Edge. I’m a warrior, a protector,” there is a trace of laughter that lingers in his voice. The Edge has done enough for him now, but he is far from satisfied—the wilds of Helovia still call to him, tempt him, and he is far too reckless to try to resist. Still, it gives him purpose, a duty, to be in a herd (a desire he hadn’t known he had).

Shifting his weight, the Warlander peers at the golden mare. “And what of you, milady—” the endearment is said with a playful mischief, too saucy to be very chivalrous, “—how have you been? Aside from providing yourself with a new color, that is.” Rohan’s crooked smirk returns to twist his lips, a light of mirth dancing in his green eyes. Of course, the large stallion has no idea what dark corners he might be delving into here, too caught up in the simplicity of the question and flirting hunger in his male mind.


“Speech.”

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.

Had the circumstances been different, I probably would have laughed at the comment from the striped stag. Instead, my ear just flickered backward briefly. I just smiled to him before shaking my head. “Not exactly. Just a partaking in the recent Rift fight. There was blood everywhere.” I paused, shaking my head from the remembrance of the bloodshed and massacre that seemed to fall on that day. Instead, my eyes drifted from him briefly. “It came from saying goodbye to a good friend, one who got wounded by the giant feline.” My voice grew quiet for a few moments until he spoke again, commenting on the fact that he was no longer an outcast. I nodded to him, happy to see that he found a home that could put his talents to good use.

Blue eyes gently swept back to him, listening intently as he spoke of his love for the outside world – unattached to anything in any way. I couldn’t help but to nod, but I didn’t understand. Perhaps all my years of running away from something I never got to truly enjoy being alone and being only accountable for myself and my own actions. Actions of which I might not be proud of anymore – but actions that I still yearned for. Shaking the thought from my head, I was pulled back to his conversation as he said the world’s edge. He had become a warrior, and I knew that he would be quite wonderful at that position. He had the mass, body type, and heart for such a position. I began to wonder if my heart was in the right spot for my own position.

“Ah, the Edge. I’ve heard great things about it.” I said softly, offering him a small smile. Unwilling – or possibly unable – to admit to falling hopelessly in love with the beast that lived and served there. The same beast that had chastised me for not going to the Edge with him when I had a chance. When I could make things different. I didn’t know that then, but I was still regretting the idea that I had caused the divide between us because I wasn’t there. Would things have been different? Or would I just be faced with seeing the gray mare carry the child in my own herd?

Pushing that idea to the side, he took my mind away again with the gentle vibrations of his voice. Eyes flickered to him again as he asked what I had been up to. I just shrugged lightly, shifting my weight and tossing my tail lightly. The movement causing my dual toned tail to rest lightly against one of my legs as I pondered on just how to reply to him. I didn’t want to give in to telling him about Tembovu – or caleb for that matter – so instead I just offered him a small smile. “Serving my land as best I can. My position isn’t exactly the most relaxed position to have.” Humor spilled from my words in a small cheeky kind of way. “Aside from that, just doing my best to survive with all of the fighting that has been going on. I got a bit of that lung disease from the Labyrinth. That was absolutely horrible. But a kind creature from the Falls I think healed me. The person I was with seemed to know him, but didn’t tell me where he was from.” I shook my head slightly, but smiled nonetheless. “It’s been quite the adventure, that’s for sure. Those fights just change you, whether or not you want it to.” I admitted to him, turning my gaze away from him yet again and watched gently along the horizon as a flock of birds took off in the distance.

The stallion nods his antlered head a little when the golden mare speaks of the violent battles, continuing to explain that the blood she wears is from a friend. “I see—I am sorry for your grief,” his deep voice rumbles to mirror her lowered tone, green eyes lingering on her face even as she glances away. Of course, his apology is only half heartfelt. Not that he would wish her any pain, but the sorrow she carries is no fault of his own, and he feels no obligation or duty to remedy wrongs that are not his doing. That being said, he intends to make the most of this unexpected encounter—and how could he possibly do that when she is mourning?

Brown lips purse in his quiet musings, his thoughts filling the short moments of silence before Rexanna looks back to him. She seems to be familiar with the Edge—or at least tales of it. Something between a smirk and a smile plays across the line of Rohan’s lips, and he glances downwards before speaking, peering at her from beneath the shadow of his brow. “It is a beautiful place, it has done me well thus far,” he speaks flippantly, his mind quickly moving on to other things, and his playful smile deepens. “Perhaps you could join me one day?” The Warlander laughs deeply, hardly serious as his eyes dance in mischief.

Naturally, if he had any idea of the reality that plagues such words, Rohan would not be so lighthearted. While undoubtedly impish and unattached in nature, he is not a monster (on most days), and even he realizes that it is not in his best interests to slight a superior he actually respects. As it is, the Warlander is entirely ignorant to the painful details, blissfully unaware and free to frolic in his obliviousness.

Tipping his ears forward when Rexanna continues, the stallion shifts his weight a little, the tight, scabbed skin across his flanks reminding him of the truth of her final statement. He sighs heavily, brown nostrils curling and his thick neck arching as he lowers his head slightly. “I understand. The beauty of battle doesn’t come without its ugliness; it has its own price to demand from each of us,” spoken like a true warrior. Of course, Rohan’s understanding is likely a bit different from the mare’s—his spirits are just as lifted by battle as they are dampened, even if the reality has hit him differently than he’d expected.

“I’ve suffered from the Rift’s disease as well—two, actually,” he continues with a coltish scowl, “First those horrid boils from the Blood Falls, and then the ghastly headache from the Flats; probably the most miserable experience of my life.” The stallion shakes his head, remembering how painful the weight of his antlers had been—for once in his life, their impressive size had been a curse rather than a blessing. Still, his offhanded, joking words are not true. Rohan has experienced far greater misery—the slaughtering of his brother, the death of his grandfather, his hero, the ghastly reign of his father—but he is not one to willingly face the gravity of these situations. Better to cast it aside, and leave it to mourn at another time.

Doing just that with a flick of his long tail, the Warlander shifts closer to the golden mare, searching to meet her gaze. “What position do you hold?” He tilts his head in dramatized curiosity, caring more to close the distance between them, trailing along his words as they leave his lips. “I don’t recall you mentioning that in our last meeting,” a crooked smile softens his lips, his eyes still holding their light of mischief. Hovering close enough to touch, he waits, hoping to bait and bring out again the wily temptress of his memories.


notes; I'm so sorry for your wait!
“Speech.”

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.

As much as I wanted to say something to him about the grief I felt, I figured I didn't want to push my emotions more than was already showing. I stuffed the idea back into my mind, back down to my heart where it could be sealed for hiding as best as I could. My eyes turned back onto the striped stag as he spoke of me joining the Edge with him but all I could do was smile. I nodded to him. "Perhaps one day. I'm afraid I won't be able to take you up on that offer for quite some time." I admitted, a flicker of light sparking in my eyes. I watched him for a few moments as he recouperated himself from laughing at his remark. The irony is that I nearly felt it a viable option - if it weren't for my duties to the Basin and the fact that I was sure Tembovu hated me now. Either way, I still watched him gently as he shifted his weight and spoke of the battles that I had mentioned. I stayed silent, but I nodded along with him - agreeing entirely. And as he spoke of the diseases he contracted I couldn't help but to emit a small chime of a laugh at the headache. It really had been an obnoxiously throbbing pain. "Ah, I suffered from the Flats as well. I was lucky to not get the boils, though. I did end up getting the black slime lung stuff." I said softly, eyes flickering to him before looking away again. Remembering just how violent I had been in my arguments against Tembovu as I imagined him a demon from my past. The light that had sparked in my eye began to extinguish itself as well.

But when I turned my eyes back onto my Warrior friend, he asked what position I held. It was something I never really talked about, nor was I sure that I should have. I did know that I trusted Rohan and hoped he trusted me too if I were to tell him my job title. I watched him tilt his head and move it closer to me. A flash of mischief crossed upon his brow, and if it had been any other time I more than likely would have acted on my instinct with him - but I felt as though now was not the time. I didn't need anymore emotional pain. I watched him with curious blue eyes before reaching my velveteen muzzle out to greet his with a gentle smile. I hovered my head near his, eyes searching for his own emerald gaze. "You see Rohan, I'm of the Sneak class back at the Basin." I admitted, pulling my head away gently but also holding a bit of pride. "I'm not sure what will come of it, but I'm a pretty low rank. I'm hoping to move up in the ranks though, prove myself to someone since I feel like I've failed in that area." I let a small grin cross my faze as I swished my tail against my ankles. "It's an interesting job, to say the least. But could you imagine someone like me being a thief?" I winked to him, almost as if to taunt him with the idea that I could take the world away from someone without them realizing it. If only it came without me realizing that I already had. "I must say, though, you do look the part of a great warrior, Rohan." I resulted in a small smile to him. Eyes locked onto his frame.

It comes as no surprise when the golden mare declines his offer of a home. It had hardly been genuine after all—mostly grounded on nothing more than mischief and play—and had she given any other answer, he probably would have stammered (not that he would mind living with this beautiful woman, but to invite her there himself? The kind of implied responsibility that comes with that is something he is uncomfortable with). As is it, she refuses him graciously, to which he responds with a frisky, crooked smile.

However, the buoyant air between them quickly becomes weighted with memories—images of the battles, the diseases, the loss. Turns out that Rexanna had been tortured by the same excruciating headache that he had. The stallion empathizes with her pain, but he doesn’t pity her for it; each one of them had been pricked by the Rift’s dangerous thorns in one way or another, and he sees no point in wallowing or begging for pity from someone who is also bleeding. Fortunately, Rexanna doesn’t lower herself to such a thing. Offering her a more sincere grin, his expression softens for the briefest of moments, “I’m sorry for your suffering, darling.”

And then the moment is gone, almost as quickly as it had come. Shaded green eyes watch as the mare’s demeanor shifts ever so slightly, his grin deepening into a smirk when she breaches the distance he had left between them, the warmth of their muzzles brushing against one another. It is not quite the intimate welcome his testosterone-hazed mind had been hoping for, but he’s not one to complain.

“I think I could,” he answers her question smoothly, too distracted with fantasies of naughty and plundering seductresses to care much for reality. As far as he is concerned, she seems quite suited to the task (by what he knows of her, anyway). Puffing out his chest proudly at her compliment, he shifts his large body closer. He thrives on the mare’s praise, his mind grasping for approval he isn’t even aware of—to fill a hole that had been chiseled at every day in his youth, by the hands of an iron-fisted and dastardly father.

He is a warrior (who is he trying to prove?).

With his heart thrumming through the heat that radiates between them, the Warlander casts Rexanna a confident smile. “Why thank you, sweetheart; I do my best,” a low chuckle rumbles forth, and he arches his thick neck to lower his head closer to her level, “and if you’re looking to prove yourself…I daresay you are an enchanting woman. You wouldn’t have to try very hard.” His flirtation is hardly concealed. To him, she is already a treasure, a dream; even with her face colored and scarred, her beauty cannot be hidden. Between subliminal vulnerability and desperate companionship, he wants her in the most primal and intimate of ways.


notes; OMG I suck ._.
“Speech.”

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.

“I’m sorry for your suffering, darling.” His words chilled me. Was it because I felt confused as to why he was apologizing when he had done nothing wrong? Was it because I was the reason for all the suffering that I had endured? And just like that, the moment was gone in a flash. His words reaching my ears, bringing a smile to my ivory maw. “I suppose so.” I smiled to him, golden chains hiding a slightly bashful broken gaze from his emerald ones. I glanced away for a few moments as he puffed himself up, sighing internally – knowing that if I wasn’t as frustrated and heartbroken by the creature who’s blood meshed on my pelt, I probably would have already given in to the seduction that granted me so much trouble in the first place. I shook the thought from my head as he continued, azure gaze traveling up to the stag’s again. He chuckled at my words and moved his head closer, lust sliding from him as I felt myself drink it all up.

No.

My face was covered with bruising that thankfully hid the blushing from his beautiful words. Tail flickering with a bit of anxiety. I could just move on and sleep with someone after having my heart broken, but that sounded too much like the old me. And I thought I had been changing for the better. I shook my head to him, withdrawing my face to my chest, eyes cascading down from the captivating green ones. “I – I suppose you’re right.” Hushed whispers escaped my lips as I refrained from turning into pre-Helovia me and sleeping with every man I came across. However, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. The more I craved it. It suddenly grew slightly frustrating to me. Torn between sleeping with a stallion from his own herd. It seemed like the perfect revenge. But was I really looking for revenge.

I felt myself reluctantly give in. Ears flickering up to his. “Rohan, what are you doing to me?” I questioned, my voice shifting with a bit of a smirk playing on the corner of my lips. I was giving into the feeling in the back of my mind when I seduced the warriors that came searching for me. Is this what I was doing? Running from Tembovu like I had ran from Calstron? Sleeping with anyone who might even know of the Elephant? I couldn’t give in like this, but it was tempting. Oh so tempting.