The beast was painted in his blood, a mess of a man wondering the isles of Helovia like some lost madden soul. He could've gone home, sought healing there, could've gone to the edge to see his child, his Anzaine. But instead the wreck of a stallion had gone fucking north. Was it Enna or Rexanna he sought? No it couldn't be either, he was just losing his mind as the blood dripped and dripped. He had blindly thrown himself into a spar after the last time he visited these mountains, his chest still crusted with the dried blood of those antlers that had defined her resistance. Not only Enna's antlers scared him now, for the trail of deep gashes from his neck to his shoulder had too joined the antlered assaults. He could barely move his neck, the pain of shifting a single cord of muscle searing and excruciating. His legs moved with great labor, each golden dagger falling into the earth with a tired, heavy force. At the very least, his blood warmed him in the frigid air of the north.

His steps did not speak a tale of confidence or power, his stiff and sore body carrying him to wherever the hell he was going. He had beat the man, Grimalkin, but there wasn't any real happiness he gained from proving the strength he already knew he could tap into. Miseal is a powerful man, but he is not without the burdens that haunt all. He had matured, he was learning, growing, and becoming the man he had always wanted, but there was something missing. It wasn't family, he had that too, had a woman who loved him, had a child that did too, but for some reason his unfinished business haunted him. Yes that was why he dragged his bloody corpse to the North, he couldn't go home, not yet. He still was not sure as to why his mind had drug him here, but the north was some sort of addiction that housed broken souls, and it appeared Miseal had checked in for treatment, whatever the hell that meant.

His body looked dull against the frostfall colors, his blues did not glow, his stripes did not glitter in their translucent glory, he had paled as the life quite literally leaked from him. The only thing that could not be taken from him, was the molten fire the burned within his golden mirrors. He looked around, his vision slightly becoming spotty as something, someone appeared to him. Miseal's brow rose as he saw a mare, midnight blue in color, her horns looked quite like his own, tall, curved, a dangerously defensive crown. She held his stripes too, he sought to find words, but only a few stumbled ones muttered out, "Mother? Is that you?"

Had death found him? Or was this some wicked paradise he had stumbled upon? He shook his head with such a force that the pain of his actions dropped him to his knees, the beast lain broken in the bed of his hallucinations.



@Enna

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He had not gotten the glory of death, had not reached even peace, only wickedness without the paradise. He tried to focus, doesn't want to, doesn't want to see her, not like this wanting only to see the blue mare return, a feeling of childish desire washing over him, needing to be cradled in the midnight woman's arms. He had never been loved, never had the beauty of parents, or maybe he did, but his memory did not allow him to know, but somewhere inside, the chromed knew that there was no hope in his tragedy, no light in the darkness. He was alone, oh so alone.

And Enna had appeared to remind him of the hollowness inside of him, despite how much he forced himself to feel the wholeness of family. He hadn't even seen the mare, hadn't seen his child since birth, claiming he was making himself better, stronger, and the only thing he had achieved was that. A father, well he hadn't. He was empty.

His legs shook from underneath him as he rose to his staggering height, a mountain looming over the woman. She taunted him to think of his destruction, luring him in all of his agony to feel more. He shook his head sluggishly, pillars wobbling and struggling underneath his weight. He tried to keep his focus here, in these heavenly fields that had been everything but--heavenly. But the striped was so weak, his physical weakness allowing his mind to succumb to Enna's siren call to Miseal's memories.

"No-no. Enna please don't" He whines out, his golden eyes flashing his pain of those memories before he pinched his eyes closed. He wobbled, his weight threatening to fall over again, but he standed as strong as he possibly could, she had seen enough of his vulnerabilities. "My sorrows for my mistakes do not heal you, why then did you appear?" He muttered, his words holding the only power, the only deep and entrancing tones that made Miseal, Miseal.

The antlered woman had always managed to get under his skin, turn him into a monster, break his physique, shatter the walls that he worked so hard to repair, time and time again. Why! Why! Did the Gods curse him so, why did their paths cross yet again when blood poured from his veins and venom poured from her words? Did she come to watch his downfall? Even in all of his pain, if that would offer her peace for the horrors he had done, then so be it.

Your crown has fallen again Miseal, will you pick it up this time? Can you?


@Enna @Mythical Request emotion three [Emptiness]

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He wants to feel the warmth of her skin, his mind so helplessly lost, so hopelessly drowning in the mess of his own fuck up. He did not realize he had stepped closer, infinitely trying with all he could to have his but she was never his Enna back, steal her away and protect her from all her demons, all her evils, but he knows he cannot, for Miseal created them. He caused her so much pain, but yet here he was a child again underneath her gaze not wanting to be cradled by the midnight woman, no wanting to be cradled by the antlered; ferociously needing her touch, her love. He knows that the man in him is screaming at him to walk away, leave her to the clutches of this steppe, for the better side of Miseal knows that she would be better off alone then with him.

Her words stop him short, the sluggish steps he had taken towards her ending quickly as the two words sink into his chest. His eyes drop and his head sags, she was right. He couldn't tell her that his sorrows should be enough, couldn't try to think that because he said sorry and felt like it was good enough to move on, that when she didn't, it wasn't okay. No, her feelings were her own he had no room to tell her how she should be and finally the beast understood. "Enna I just-" He stops himself, he couldn't do this to her. He had to realize that everytime the chromed spoke of his feelings, it had only ended in more hurt for the woman. No longer could her pains be derived from his hooves, he was better then throwing out words that would mean nothing to her, should mean nothing.

It is then that something hits him, his face contorting in confusion as his stomach boils with the icy clutches of his quest, he feels an endless hollow void, almost as if he stuck in a maze in which there is no end, the walls climbing and climbing. He feels no joy, sees no light at the end of tunnel, only pure darkness. The man shakes his head, trying desperately to shake off the ebonite creatures that clung to his soul and stabbed him with daggers of ice but it only causes him more agony as the wound he had forgotten about stretches and allows more blood to flow out of his veins. Miseal sways, his mind losing control over all of this emotion--all that he had felt and now all that was being stolen away from him, his physical wounds eating away at his glow, the shines of his skin dulling to pales and lack-lusters.

Quickly the world is turned to blur, but even his pain wouldn't allow him to miss the worst of Enna's rage, I have wished you dead. Everything stops, the world almost if on pause as his eyes fill with shock. No one was there to calm his ache, to tell him that he deserved death, that her rage wasn't displaced. When moments before he was willing to let his death be her pacification, but when the words come from her mouth, something shattered within him-he didn't hear the rest of the sentence, didn't care to hear more words of violence, Enna was the hammer to which his heart was a mirror--oh how she shattered him.

Just as you had her.

He swallows hard, knees shaking and tingling as his body begins to give up- slipping into a state much closer to death Enna had wished then the life that he had failed at quite miserably. He cannot hear, vision fading in and out, body too battered and his heart shattered.

If Enna had felt this, felt this wicked hole that ate at everything living, so can you.

Something tells him, it was true, a crushing reality. He hadn't even felt near to which the levels that Enna must have felt, and here he was crippling underneath the blow of it. She had survived through the vortex of daggers and hammers and if the woman had, Miseal knew that he couldn't let this stop him. His hardened shock lines settle, the caress of her lips upon his skin and warmth that she offered dragging him back into reality as Miseal leans into her embrace, his broad chest wrapping her up into him if she so allowed, wanting this so feverously.

It is too quickly that she pulls away, the miserable pain gone until only the drying blood and scar was left for him to remember that it was ever there. He wants to share his gratitude, but somehow he does not think words was ever enough for the chromed and the antlered, their language was best spoken without words. He reaches out, lips seeking the porcelain whisps of her mane to pull her back to him, she looked so cold out here alone. He watches as tears well into her pale orbs, threatening to spill over. Gently, his neck extends, his maw wishing to wipe away the tears of all of her aches, all her pain that she didn't earn. If only she would let him once more touch the soft silk of her skin, brush his muzzle down the feminine arch of her back, let him once more show her what it was like to be loved.

Words spill from her, his head slightly tilting at the question, "What is it? He asked, something gnawing at his heart as it's beat sped while he waited for her answer.


@Enna

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