the Rift


[PRIVATE] you bring out the best of me

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
#1
well someday soon when the spring brings the sun
i'll sleep, i'll finally
feel better when the winter's gone
sikeax
The sea waits in front of them, whispering thin threats and low cries out as the distance extends into the horizon, drawing out far and wide, cloaking all of the islands living atop it’s skin. Islands that Sikeax needed to reach to find (hopefully)herbs that could be used well in the Dragon’s Throat.
“Hurry up. Monster slow. Monster need to go.”
His impatience lingers overhead like a swollen storm cloud, shifting his light, spotted stomach across the orange, damp sands, groaning as his black eyes watch the two mares bicker.
"Fly across. I’ll be right below you the entire time. "
She wonders if Amara’s wings will hold out on her, if she’ll be able to make the flight across without issues. The swim feels endless for her, but that’s how the ocean has always felt when she ventures too far out, leaving the safety the shallows to venture out into the depths. While she has no idea what lies in the black, swirling mass that deepens beneath her small, insignificant body as she goes further out, it strikes a fear into her that makes her body scream.
There was maybe once, when Hobgoblin was very young, that she had watched him dive so far away from her to that place. Nothing but darkness, fear, facing the one place she’ll never go to with a sort of courage she’ll never hold.
Now, he stays near the surface with her, constantly climbing to breach the waves and gasp for more breaths of air that she doesn’t need in this world. His songs fill her ears and take the vast emptiness away as he sings, almost beautiful, looking for something she doesn’t understand.
Low calls are coming from him as she watches, waiting for Amara to make the leap.
“The isles might be the only place with herbs as of right now, and if there is some over there, I need someone to fly them back.”
“Enough wait. Go now.”
Blue eyes follow his body as it slips into the water, bracing himself against the cold waves as the shallows rub against his stomach.
“We’ll get to spend time together. Alone. Without..” Her voices fades and carries off, standing, refusing to blink as the ocean before them repeats the same movements. It’s a clear, moderately cool day, particularly dry, with clear skies that offer no daunting clouds in the distance.
All of this to avoid saying that one thought that might go through both of their heads when she leaves it unspoken, rising tension into the air.
“...Anyone to bother us.”
Does that sound invertly sexual?
“You have new Zhu with Monster??”
Maybe in the future. We asked for a child long ago.
“Other Zhu dead?”
Never happened.”

His singing begins now, low and long.
“Head east and slightly north. I don’t know how long it’ll take you to fly, but wait on the island with the black mountain on it, on the beach. I’ll meet you there.”
In her chest is a stitch of pain, stepping away from the winged mare’s side to enter the sea at last, holding her breath as her head goes underwater completely, forced by course of habit. Hobgoblin greets her in the depths with loose calls, repeatedly crying out to her between his songs when he cannot see her, assuring one another that in a world that almost holds no boundaries that they do not lose one another.

OOC: permission to PP Amara from dark.

"Talk."
image credits


@Amara


you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed


Amara Posts: 136
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 hh :: 6 years HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Sameira :: Royal Hellhound :: Hellfire dark
#2
Amara
I had been graciously accepted into the ranks of the Throat, my need to balance out my wrong doings compelling me to take up the rank of a healer. I was under the watch of Sia, her position as Sun Physician meaning she was my peer, my guide, my teacher. I was to follow her example, to strive to be a great healer just as she was, to be there in other's time of need, when blood is shed and bones are broken. I must be there now, for people I may have never once before spoken to— they must put their faith and trust in me to heal their injuries. That— is a big responsibility. 

"Can't take it, hm? Backing out now? Already letting them down— pitiful." I feel their warmth, sending a shiver down my back as their presence hovers beside me. I turn to my left, their wicked grin settled there as to be expecting, daunting and teasing, pushing and nudging my doubts and insecurity. They chuckle, a thousand demons laughing in a chorus of haunting, eerie laughs— my knees buckle as the sound echoes through, rattling the very core of my existence. I feel like a child, scared of the shadows and dancing figures at the edges of my vision, of my knowledge of crunching bones and tearing flesh— the metallic tang of crimson staining my lips, the feel of a blood soaked grin stretching pridefully over my maw. 

They waltzed so gingerly, so exquisitely, to my side, maniac, toothy grin leaving no cell in my body untouched by overwhelming fear. I halt, freezing up and waiting— listening to their beckoning calls that summon me to the darkness— that call me from my chosen path. "No one wants to put their life in the hands of someone to irresponsible, so unstable. I certainly wouldn't." A distinct clicking of the tongue signals their disapproval of my rank, of the trials that lie before me. "What can you even do? Will your tears of woe seal their wounds? Will your childish cries bring back the dead? What can you— shameful, insignificant you— do for them? Nothing. Give up before you fuck up, before she gives up on you." They motion towards Sia, her champagne figure standing out against the red sands of the Throat. They turn back to me, lightly shaking her head and looking down on me with pity, with false sympathy. I want to cry out that I wouldn't let her down— that I wouldn't let anyone down. But that was a big proclamation to make for someone so small and feeble as I. 

"Do as you wish, but do not say I didn't warn you, mein kleine." I fidget at the nickname, swallowing my fury at them for using that nickname. "You don't deserve to call me that." I spit, turning my attention from the Skinwalker to Sia, raising my head and trotting towards her. 

My fears, my insecurities, my doubts and worries— they all melt away in her presence. She has become a soothing aura to me, a calming figure to be near. And although my anxieties over her feelings— over our relationship— were still mixed and muddled, I had no doubt that she at least did not hate me. 

This also didn't stop me from feeling like I'd intruded on something, something important and secretive that Sia kept hidden. I felt like I'd walked into her private sanctuary, that I'd brought it to ruins and damaged her prized possessions. Some nights I lay away, whispering my apologies— how I regretted flying to the Throat on a whim, how I interrupted the peaceful life she'd been living before I thundered in with calamity nipping at my heels and my childish needs slung over my shoulder. I wanted to whisper my apology, wanted her to know how sorry I felt for intruding on something so special. For that, I am hesitant. 

I spend my time drifting after her, quiet and so painfully aware of where my hooves trod. I feel like a wild storm, swirling and brewing under the flesh and skin, under a cage of brittle bone and useless veins. It was only a matter of time before it all burst, crumbling and crashing and bringing forth chaos in its wake. I could feel it, and I feared it with every cell in my being, I quaked and cowered at the possibility of it breaking from me and crushing all that I— and everyone else— held dear. 

Under Sikeax's demand, I follow her to the mysterious new Isles that were produced from seemingly nothing. I felt my stomach knot up at the idea of her leaving my sight, of flying such a great distance when my wounds were only just beginning to heal. Although the two deep, grossly infected wounds from the unicorn had been healed by Sikeax herself, I still felt phantom aches and pains resonating from the scarring tissue. Each time my wings stretched out I felt the tug of diseased muscle and tissue, screaming in refusal at the unfamiliar feelings. It would be no easy feat, flying across an ocean when I'd barely cleared the bridge between the Throat. 

I pursed my lips and nodded to Sikeax's words, feeling no reassurance in the fact that she would be below me, where I could barely see her and she could not hear my cries if anything were to go wrong. Not until it was too late. She mentions how the Isles would probably be the only place they could find herbs, and that I would be given the task of bringing them back to the Throat. 

Sikeax begins to say more, saying that we would be alone. And as much as I would love to be alone with her— my body trembled. Whether it was from the welling anxiety deep in my gut, the fear that somehow I'd manage to fuck up enough to scare her away forever, or the excitement at the idea of being in a space alone with her, where we couldn't be seen or heard by anyone (save for Goblin, who I rather we not drag along— but alas). Sia finishes the sentence awkwardly, and I had almost forgotten she'd even left it unfinished in the first place. I look at her, assessing her expression to make sure it didn't read as too awkward. I bit my lip, because I almost— almost— grinned like a madman at her words. Almost. I heard Sameira's chiding whispers, telling me to 'make a damn move before I herd you two into a corner and get you to—' I stopped listening there because she got so inherently vulgar that I didn't want to listen. I just nodded my head in silent recognition, like she could see it. 

I nodded now to Sia's directions, casting a long glance in the direction I was supposed to head. Perhaps standing here now, I could barely begin to make out the darkened shape of an island across the ocean, jutting subtly from the horizon so that if I gave it a quick once over, I never would have caught notice of it. For a few minutes I simply stood, listening to the waves as they swallowed up the shore and receded back again, washing away any evidence of Sikeax's footprints. She could simply disappear, washed away with the tides and no one would have any evidence of her. The idea of such sent my brain spiraling into a world of possibilities, tugging and pulling in every direction at all the possible outcomes of such an event. 

With my thoughts out of control, far from my reach, I thunder over the sand and become sky bound, headed for the islands ahead. My wings were made for just this— gusts of salty sea wind carrying me aloft over the foaming blue waves as they curled and crashed over one another. I was certain I would arrive before Sikeax, my speed only increasing as I soared through the scattered clouds. I slipped out of mind and out of body, temporarily giving way to the whispering, calling voices that haunted my head— forgetting everything for a prolonged moment of silence. 

In no time I found myself sweeping over the isles, coming full circle and landing atop the beach that faced the shores of the Throat. There I waited for her, my maiden of the sea— waited for her luminescent azure horn to rise from the tide and bring forth the streamlined champagne body I admire like a masterpiece.  

@Sikeax

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
#3
well someday soon when the spring brings the sun
i'll sleep, i'll finally
feel better when the winter's gone
sikeax
The sea gladly swallows her whole, taking in her body with gentle fingers that dawn teeth of foam and ice-cold temperatures once she has submerged completely, making sure that she is aware that the sea does not like false senses of security and safety. It is meant to be full of live where few dare to push, and empty where many would expect to find things. Grasses rub against her legs like the hands of needy children, and she can feel her urge to fill her stomach with food that she could’ve easily found in the oasis, but work is more important. The shadow of the mare sweeps over her body and darkens the world only for a moment, sunlight pushing it’s way through as if it had been thoroughly insulted by her blockage.
Hobgoblin, waiting distantly into the sea, no more than five hundred feet from her eyes, hangs at the surface, gasping for air, spraying droplets of water into the air with each breath. The passing of Amara’s shadow is the end to his breathing session. With his hind flippers does he finally break the water’s skin, letting a quick blur of silver flash as his body dives deeper and deeper, reaching back around for Sikeax’s glowing beacon in the abyss.
The rhythm of the ocean holds her hand as a mother does her child, loosely holding onto her body as it moves her towards the isles, pushing her lazy strides with a grace that swallows her. She feels motionless, lacking of gravity, thinking that she could go as far as she wants. The only noises hanging in her are inside of her thoughts, and now does she see that having Hobgoblin is a blessing, for if she was to never bond to him and left to the sea, loneliness and the time itself would turn her into a diseased mind.
“Like Monster.”
She tries not to listen to the bad, even though she is, drinking in every word and letting them hurt her as they should, emotions free. No one would be able to catch her in such a state in the oceans, and if she wept tears that could fuel an entire river, the ocean would lovely kiss them from her cheeks and baby blues, telling her that her pain is safe in it’s endless belly.
Sand and underwater grasses bury themselves around and below her hooves soon enough, letting her brother be the first to break their silence, rising his skull from the waves, and then choosing to snort loud enough that it borderlines a yell. No longer do songs sing from his vocal cords when he pushes himself into the sea. He will sing for no one now.
Amara is there, waiting for them. The mental image hangs in Sikeax’ eyes as she hovers, breaking into lust as her teeth tear away the grass along the floor. She doesn’t care that it tastes funny, attempting to hurriedly get food within her stomach before making another journey. Hobgoblin, past all of her wants of him being with her, turns his streamlined body against the waves and leaves for the open.
She doesn’t pursue as the water splits for her, stabbing through with her horn until there is a break. The rest simply follows naturally.
As for her lungs, they cough to clear their passageways, preparing for the exchange.
Water slips from her damp body in thinning rivers, crossing her eyes across Amara’s body to look for signs of damage to the mare’s healing body that would have to be taken care of before they returned to the Throat. Everything seems fine.
“How was your flying? Did anything go wrong?”
There is a possibility that she is pushing her too far too fast, going against the obvious limits of the chestnut mare’s body like there was something to achieve. She promised to heal Amara, not destroy her, and if she was the cause of a setback due to reckless thinking then let it be so that it haunts her like the blood of a loved one resting on her hands.


"Talk."
image credits


@Amara


you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed


Amara Posts: 136
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 hh :: 6 years HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Sameira :: Royal Hellhound :: Hellfire dark
#4
Amara
There is a time before I am no longer alone, a waiting period that goes by slowly— tick tick tick. As the minutes pass, my heart rate becomes more and more erratic, thundering like a herd of horses migrating to a better pasture. It can be felt and heard through the hollows of my body, thrumming to an imagined beat that even I cannot track. My body continues to tremble, a sudden restlessness consuming the fatigue that had cradled me so, overwhelming my sleeplessness and tearing apart my calm. 

Mindlessly my body works, digging small holes into the sand with my hooves as I gnaw at my lip and rustle my feathers in an endless cycle. The nervous paranoia that envelops my unstable mind, whispering to me that she's drowned, that in reality she was swept away by an unseen tide— tossed away carelessly by the waves she admired so much. "Can't you see her body now? Row, row, row your boat—" They hum, giving a sly smile in my direction while golden eyes settle on something in the distance. "Do you dare to drag your princess' body to shore? To see what these wretched, unpredictable waves can do to your dearest damsel?" They mock me, all the taunting voices hissing in unison, the laughter haunting as it seeps from the false bay throat. I dare not look at what their eyes are settled on, fearing that there I will see exactly what they promise— Sia's waterlogged corpse floating aimlessly among an endless blue, in a place I can never reach despite by best efforts. 

I begin pacing the shore, stopping every five feet to raise a leg and lower my neck, meeting halfway to gnaw away at the scarred flesh of my shins. My blunt teeth work recklessly through the layers of skin, not stopping even as blood blossoms from the newly opened wounds and spills down the rivets in my muscle. My wings open and close as I walk, open and close, open and close— fluttering awkwardly each time they open until my healing wounds begin to ache from the stretching of the tissue planted nearest my wings, begging for me to remain at ease as I pace. 

The sight of a familiar beige figure emerging from the ocean catches my attention, leg remaining poised on its way to my needy teeth. She comes from the ocean like the first, crashing forth with the waves and sea foam in her wake, hair wild and pooling at her ankles. But the first was stark white with virgin skin— she came with burning withers that spoke more words of her past than she ever would and a groin drenched in sin, cursed with widened hips and a sadness in her eyes one could not place exactly. And in this ascension is all the rivers retreating from her skin, moving along her curves like flowing mountain streams, tumbling back down into the sea like the tears of weeping clouds.

I stopped moving altogether, standing like an abandoned marble statue, watching eternally the push and pull cycle of the waves— the rising and retreating tide and the occasional awe inspiring unicorn that would emerge from the depths. And I found her, I found my unicorn with her glowing sea foam hide and ebony lips, with her cerulean beacon that signaled the lost that there they could find what they'd gone mad for, for safety and comfort and a gentleness that was becoming a rarity. I the statue yearned to reach out and caress the salted cheeks of my love, of the goddess I had so patiently waited for— even as my limbs crumbled and my expression wore, I stood in wait in scattered pieces of myself knowing that she would return to me.

Sure enough, here she was, inspiring an impossible smile from the weathered marble surface of my skin. Even as she looks me over, assessing the damage to which those centuries had hailed down upon me, I wanted to tell her that there was no need, that the pain I suffered was meaningless in her presence. I wanted to trace my cold stone lips against her spine, to feel the warmth an immortal shed, to touch the impossible, to feel the wild sea trapped beneath marred skin. 

I catch myself before I do, lips working to form words, throat sputtering to life after centuries of disuse. My words flow unsteadily, a raspy tone of uncertainty as I look down at my marked chest. "Not a lot of trouble, but my muscles are getting a little sore." I had lived as a grounded statue in fear that my goddess would leave if my pedestal was empty, if my marble hooves rose from my permanent place and I soared at impossibly high heights where stone could not go. 

"So what are we looking for?" I ask her, creaky vocals a grotesque and unforgiving sound to my ears that twitch in response. My eyes drift along the edge of the beach, taking a risk and peeling my eyes from the familiarity of the indigo accented body and assessing the area to which we stood before. I'd never been here before, completely oblivious to its existence and how it came to be. Perhaps it had risen from the sea as the goddess had, in elegance and delicacy it rose to form an island amid the sea, beauty among capricious weather and ever changing tides. 
@Sikeax

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
#5
well someday soon when the spring brings the sun
i'll sleep, i'll finally
feel better when the winter's gone
sikeax
Need gives way to emotion, interlacing a set of delicate fingers into the hold of rough and dirty hands, staining the beauty of a pristine skin with its ugliness. In her ears, she can hear the sea calling her name, or maybe she is finally giving into her mind and crumbling, readying herself to leave for the ocean. Her heart is heavy. Her soul is worrisome. Amara’s eyes are staring as she stands halfway between the world she can co-inhabit with her and the world that Amara cannot touch nor see into, her sanctuary.
She feels bare, exposed, naked and most of all, scared. Hobgoblin is gone. One look through his eyes tells her he has delved deep and far from her. She tells herself that she needs him now, like a child needs its mother.
Please don’t leave me, she whispers into their bond, waiting for his voice as she studies Amara, the blood painted over her lips that matches the flowing blood emerging from the bites on her legs. I don’t want to be alone. Amara’s eyes feel like the weight of a thousand stones, ones that she has found herself trapped under and can’t seem to let out an audible cry for help or move her body to try and free herself.
No answer breaks the silence.
Eye contact seems hard to hold now that she’s noticed Amara’s blood, how it fits into self-harm like a pair of perfect puzzle pieces. She had chosen to betray her the first time she was left alone as if she had no self-control. Is that what led to all their problems? Lack of self-control? A frown grows across her lips as she searches for golden eyes, wearing disappointment over her soft baby blues. I thought better of you, they seem to say.
The first step from the sea is the longest, swaying when the ocean draws waves against her tired legs and pushing herself forward when they urge her on. She keeps searching, looking for eyes, Hobgoblin’s hand to hold in the darkness, safety, just another soul to keep her safe when fear continues to dwell right behind the curtain that stands lifelessly behind the one she’s supposed to care the most for, watching, waiting, trying to find the first sign of weakness so that it can suck her dry.
Amara’s words meet her ears with speed, drawing them forward slowly as she listens in. Would time away from her senses to think over what they needed in the Throat become her downfall? Could she trust Amara not to wound her as she had tried many times in the past, both physically and mentally, time and time again?
The blood slaps her. Disgust swings in when she has to look upon the mess over her lips and over her legs, how she destroys all the work that she has put so much effort and love into without a second thought.
“Give me your leg.” Words roll out of her mouth in a much rougher tone that she had intended, but she can’t help but feel betrayed and upset. If this was how respect was going to be shown to her, then let her responses be harsh. She expected respect, not out of her rank and overall standing in the Dragon’s Throat hierarchy, but out of their friendship and bond. Hobgoblin’s eyes hang in her own for a moment, watching with increased curiosity as she waits for the chewed upon leg to be extended.
When it is finally out, no eye contact is made, soft eyes having now hardened into stones, head dipping at an angle that keeps her face hidden behind the veil of dark brown hair that sweeps forward. From her lips draws the white flame, flickering as she pushes it outwards, kissing away the wound until nothing but fresh scar replaces it.
She draws away with the same ignorance as before.
“Wash in the ocean before we head into the island. We need goldenseal and vines for the time being, and anything else that we come across that can be useful.”
Hobgoblin chuckles at her tone, toiling in the sea but ever intent on using Sikeax as a way to watch.
“You no like Monster?”
She’s making me upset.
“Monster bad. Let Monster drown. Hobgoblin drown Monster for You?”
No.
“Why not?”

Another unanswered question that causes her to feel his hatred grow, imaging that as she watches Amara that Hobgoblin is somewhere out in the sea, furrowing his brows and taking his rage out upon whatever he can find in the vast emptiness.



"Talk."
image credits


@Amara


you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed


Amara Posts: 136
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 hh :: 6 years HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Sameira :: Royal Hellhound :: Hellfire dark
#6
Amara
Like some falsely sweet fairy tale she emerges, slow in her transition from sea to land, humble and cautious steps taken through murky and unabiding waters. Deceptively beautiful and pure in the way she rises like a goddess making a brief appearance, granting a withering statue the privilege of seeing something so magnificent with such undeserving eyes.

I'm afraid to touch her, to reach out with my marble muzzle and brush it against the warm, living flesh that she wears so unwillingly— that I may stain her precious surface with my foulness, with my sins and damnation. I strain my neck in attempt to keep myself from reaching forward, eyes following each movement as she makes her way towards me, face scrunching with disgust? Disappointment?, my stomach churning as metallic eyes reach down to view the rivets of blood soaking into chestnut hide. O h, my eyes widen and mouth moves to make nothing but a fool of myself, too afraid to raise my gaze and see what more expressions befall her features.

Like a guilty child found with cookie crumbs scattered about their lips and an angry parent looming over them, I so hesitantly produce one utterly gnawed on limb, head hung in shame and shoulders hunching in. "So s o so rr y." Is all that I manage, creaky and unused vocals rattling, creaking and sputtering as they force broken syllables through. Laughter echoes through the ivory dome, voices muttering unintelligible words of hatred and judgement, millions of eyes cast down upon me (don't look at me that way! Stop!) as the wounds are kissed better— gut wrenching and heart lodging in my throat as Sia pulls away without so much as a glance, bitterness lingering over my being as she draws back. The wounds still burn.

"You've disappointed her, returning to old habits. Like a baby to its thumb. How pitiful you are, hasn't she told you before how childish you are?" Their voice ghosts across my nape, a shout among a thousand whispering souls, so prominent and there— so inescapable. I feel Their breathes, slow and blood curdling against my ear as skin touches mine, head snapping back and eyes wild. "You'll scare her like that, looking so mad." A toothy grin spreads over my vision, jagged teeth and curling corners etched into my mind as They fall back into silence.

"Goldenseal and vines... goldenseal and vines..." I repeat the names, brows furrowed in concentration as the names already begin to get lost in the whirlwind of my instability. After more than a minute, the names are sinking into the empty depths of my mind, falling back against the mountains of other forgotten discarded things that my subconscious no longer saw any need for, thrown away somewhere to collect dust until some sudden action brings them all raging back with a new found hope of being clung to, of being needed.

Eyes draw to Sikeax, distantly observing the way she stands, the way I seem so far away from her— how far away she is from me— so far that she feels unreachable, that there are unbreakable barriers between us that I cannot (will never) reach beyond. I am trapped, an observer (a caged animal) looking to the cage across from mine, watching from afar the way her features shift with each passing thought. I'm scared that if I touch her now, my skin will burn with harsh temperatures, cold enough to burn away my flesh, prolonged exposure leaving me falling apart beneath her.

"So sorry, I— I d o n't know wha t came ov e r me." Anxious tension, building up in my stomach like some kind of tumor, a sickening parasite that urged me to grasp my limb between blunt teeth and grind and gnaw and ruin— to set me back up at square one. And she was there to watch it all happen, to witness my failures and reflect on my selfishness in ways I could not, to laugh at how pathetically stupid I was for crawling back to bad habits like they were the only things keeping me alive. Not so much alive, but present.

Without those cherished moments of pain, where the wounds blossomed cherry red droplets and shed their petals, I would be lost— forgetting whether I was still a living, breathing being or just a depressingly dull mass of cells that was slowly deteriorating into a nothingness as the brain it preserved withered away without so much as a blink. And it was a complicated thing to go through, a strange, ritualistic process that I know Sia will never come to understand. Or perhaps she does, but her ritual has manifested in other ways (why do you love me when you know I can't do anything for you?).

The slip up has given way to a winding path to instability, providing all those menacing shadows those others to come crawling back to me, clinging to my fractured mind and rattling my thoughts, screaming in need. They wanted in, their eagerness off putting as I began to turn my body, legs moving at an unnervingly slow pace. I cleanse myself of my mistakes (if only), scanning the island before us and wondering where I could find those... things. What were they? Goldenseal and vines.
@Sikeax <3

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
#7
well someday soon when the spring brings the sun
i'll sleep, i'll finally
feel better when the winter's gone
sikeax
Hobgoblin is a beast of burden. His voice is deep and almost sweet, and she can still hear him in the back of her head as she watches Amara. Pain is clutching her heart. Amara’s eyes upon her skin feel even worse as the time that they linger increases, watching and listening with a sense of heavy sadness and maybe disappointment as Amara apologizes.
“Monster lost cause.”
Hush.
“Monster hurt You. Monster do no good. Monster BAD. I kill Monster. Make You happy?”
Please don’t.
“Why?”

Another thing she can’t answer. The pain hitting her chest is showing itself to be depression. Quite possibly what she feels in her eyes are tears that are steadily growing into tsunami waves. She isn’t appreciated. No one, not even her own best friend, or is Amara her mate, a lover she isn’t sure she loves when she is scared they will wound her without question or second thought, can care for the things that she does.
One, two, three, four tears slither down her cheek as Amara steps away. Darkness sinks into her soul, and somewhere off, she can hear the faintest sound of Hobgoblin’s broken, empty singing.
She doesn’t make eye contact when the mare passes by. She draws herself, stepping slowly through the sand that clings to her skin gently and hangs on with vengeance, never letting go.
Amara’s words hang like a noose in her gallows. ‘So sorry.’ But was it true? Did Amara care? Did she truly feel sorry, upset with herself for the actions she so selfishly, heartlessly, cruelly threw into the face of someone who worked their hardest to ensure that she was cared for? Someone who wanted to call her her mate, a sacred term that isn’t sure is supposed to be out of love or friendship.
She reaches into the bottom of her heart and digs, shifting tired, wounded and bruised fingers into the mess of emotions that wear knives on all of their surfaces, beginning the search for love, the kind that mates are specifically supposed to feel for one another.
A new crack extends over the brittle surface of her heart and soul when she doesn’t discover it there. She guesses that Amara doesn’t think about her while she splashes herself clean in the waves.
Any remaining tears are batted away with swift blinks, finally holding her blues wide and sighing as her throat hitches, clinging onto a sob with a fierce grip that begs her to not let go. Amara will not see her cry. In the ocean, her wet cheeks and salty tears fit into everything else, and there can she really let herself go.
Hobgoblin’s heart is sinking somewhere in the sea as she walks into the thickening vegetation. Her vocal words work feverishly to hide the feelings of betrayal and sadness that force her breaking heart to crumble more. A last bit of strength rises up with all it has just to form her words naturally, assuring the absence of her pain to the outside. “Do you know what goldenseal looks like?”
The tone is the same as it always is, fading as she waits for the answer that she already knows. ‘No, I don’t.’ She is sure Amara has taken up no time in looking for things in the wilds when she was on her own. It wouldn’t be as productive of her time as chewing and ripping away the skin of her legs and body would be, the festering wounds and infections left to course through her veins until it achieved in taking her life away. “It spreads out like a star but with one side missing it’s points, with a dried, wrinkled appearance. It has a white flower like a daisy or a small grouping of red berries in the center. It’s going to taste terrible when you pick it, but we need it.”
A moment is given for her to process it and another for Amara to accommodate to her pace and move along side her. The vines would be no problem, but the goldenseal worries her. Amara would have to learn through failure, but could she be trusted? “Would you like to come with you, or would you like to go on your own to look for it?”
But can I trust you to be alone?
A glance is stolen, directed towards the mare’s legs, counting and following the shapes of each scar, both fresh and aged. Would Amara be returning to her with more symbols of her self-abuse when she had been falsely trusted with hope things would go well?
“Let Monster go. Leave Monster after. Monster live on island forever.”
She can fly.
“Monster will be fine.”

A mental grimace covers any features she has in her brain, but she can’t help but think about the idea. She could bolt once far from the Monster Amara, slip into the sea, and never have to think about her life in Helovia again. She could experience real freedom, real hope that things would better in her life, things that she hadn’t truly felt when in Helovia. But what about the things that she would be leaving behind?
The only thing that really comes to mind when she thinks on it is Zhu, but she is sure he will function well in her absence.
Something rubs against her legs, and subconsciously she reaches for it, tugging away at a vine until it tears and migrates into her mouth.
I don’t think I can.
Sweet tastes cover her tastebuds as she chews, swallowing absentmindedly, impatiently waiting for the response that will probably be neither a yes nor a no, instead acting a jumbled mess of words that will attach Amara to her body further.


"Talk."
image credits


@Amara


you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed


Amara Posts: 136
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.1 hh :: 6 years HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Sameira :: Royal Hellhound :: Hellfire dark
#8
Amara
Like a whisper in the back of my mind, golden seal... and vines. But it's so hushed, so quiet, so insignificant that my ears fail to hear it— fail to understand the importance behind those specific things. They're easily lost to the tides, to the sound of the blood in my ears, the calls of gulls in the sky, the harmony of the world around me— all those voices (It's too much, I can't help it.) getting louder with each action, each word from Sia. There's not just one or two, but a whole populous, all the withered souls of the Damned that I'd witnessed perish before me, marble eyes reaping the lost before they can pass to greater levels (Don't leave me!).  

Someone may say that there are ways to mend broken relationships, that with time and care they will eventually stitch themselves back together, that even the deepest wounds heal with time. But for my bitter soul, for my reckless habits and uncontrollable needs, there is no waiting game to play, no precious love that can save what I've so foolishly discarded. There's nothing to mend these hollow hearts, nothing to fill these empty eyes— what I've done is brought ruin to not one (my own), but two lives (Sikeax), selfish and disgusting in the way I've tossed aside all the love, all the help that my ill mind needs craves. Look where I've ended up because of my inability to realize what I was doing (You're hurting it! Stop it please! Stop! STOP IT!), living behind a falsity so dense I still cannot escape it, clawing at the walls of my confines with bloodied fingertips in desperation.

I return, unannounced and silent as the fraction of conscious existence returned to my eyes, gold capturing the melancholic presence of the goddess. Again she says that name, goldenseal, and I remember where I am, why I am standing beside the rolling waves of blue and caught up in the pain of my existence. Hesitance, gaping mouth the only evidence I have that I heard her, unable to accumulate enough courage to offer a response— the sweltering emotion that eats away at the silence between us makes my blood run cold, spit thick as I swallow harshly. She does not wait for me to answer.

She explains goldenseal to me, harsh tones dripping with a need to escape, to flee from the monster and take minutes to linger alone where I could not find her, where no one could. She is all sharpened edges and salt poured into open wounds, cold heart and colder gaze that leaves me wishing I was a pitiful shadow rather than a physical disappointment. I wallow in the unbearable pain of my anxiety, chewed apart by the irrational fears that present themselves to me in the form of grueling scenarios, unsettling ideas of betrayal and torment, a false reality that I do not trust. I will poison myself, bite down into something that will bring nothing but the sweet escape I craved with a fierce and subtle passion, where my teeth will sink into foreign flora and offer up the chance of release— perhaps that is the better scenario.

But what of Sia? I'll ask, and they'll respond.

(He doesn't love me anymore, I- I can't give him what he needs, he- he's gone.)(Weak, weak weakw eakweakweakweak you can't even let go)(Love is foolish, don't you think Kye? Love is pointless. It's unnecessary, but we are emotional creatures, and we cannot live in such independence. Our love is packaged in so many ways, but it is always there.)(You are nothing, nothing. Sick.)

And that is the end, the others just a sea of unintelligible whispers, a lull of familiar sounds melting together to stir and comfort my lost mind. The thoughts I'd had goldenseal... vines, are swept away by the current of worry and doubt, sizzling self loathing and distaste for the childish behaviour developed so obliviously. I seek the comfort of her presence, the delicate relationship fractured by my inability to recognize the pain I'd caused. Through all the tormenting moments of darkness and wretched scents, months of slick flesh and bubbling distance, controlled by something twisted and as unstable as myself— mocking the trembling child I'd loved so closely, who could not stand on her own against the harsh silence of winter. I stood before her and mocked her like something heartless and cruel, gruesome grin stretching over tattered cheeks and poison tainting my every exhale. I scared her.

But those memories are so faded, so tattered and worn as they'd aged over the years, swallowed up by matters less more important, pushed aside carelessly and stored away in a dark crevice. They aren't brought to conscious light, never looked over with a sure mind (not yet), waiting for their time to come when they would be revealed— when I would suffer and break and finally give in to the self destruction. For now they lie dormant, and I can live another day in manageable pain, with crumbling rationality and childish behaviour.

The stare following the question (Don't look at me! Stop, stop stop I'm a monster! Look what I've done), lingering for a moment too long on the layered tissue, the tattered remnants of still present hatred, a loathing against myself turned physical. Stop stop please just don't, I want to beg on my knees, to tell her that she should just walk away now, forget about me and everything I am, let  me wither away here on this lonely island where my corpse could rot and no one would bat an eye— where I could melt into the sands and get swept away in the high tides, all my memories and suffering, all of my broken feelings and ruined dreams, taken away by the hungry waters. Maybe it'd be for the best. "Stop it."

"I can go on my own, if you would prefer some alone time—" Away from me. The words stop short, caught in my mouth before I can stitch them along with the rest. I watch her eat away at the plants, mechanic in her movements and eyes traveling along the scarring of her skin, gold wavering at the idea of who did that to her (me?).
@Sikeax
feel free to pm me if you have any confusion on the events within amara's posts


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture