The ground was hard. Of course, since that's what permafrost tend to do to soil when the temperature only reach above freezing for a few months every year. Just barely enough to allow the snow to thaw away and give the plants a chance to grow, reproduce and wilt before the snow begins to fall once again. All of this I already knew, but I still found myself left with a feeling of discontent as I scraped away a thin layer of newly fallen snow, only to find nothing worth the effort. Pallid eyes stare grimly at the patch of bared earth, as though looking at it long enough would scare the dead grass into growing. Ears flip backward, frozen into a perpetually grumpy expression that I had been wearing for days now, and with a sharp snort to declare my dissatisfaction with the whole situation I reached down and began to nibble at the tough, dry remains of what would have been lush green grass had it grown anywhere but in this frozen wasteland.
The grass was dry and the taste bitter, but not more so than the mood that hung over the group of rag-tag soldiers and commoners that had gathered around the fallen king. Overall the unicorns were moll-tuned and grouchy, trying to hide their fears and uncertainty behind a facade of gruffness and strength. Some succeeded, others didn't, but overall it was as if a black cloud had settled over the scattered remnants of the herd and put a lit on anything that even resembled cheerfulness.
Chewing on a mouthful of tough roots I lifted the head and looked out over the plain, regarding the shapes that moved around me. The light was weak and bleary, a pale winter sun hiding behind a thin veil of clouds that threatened with snow without deigning to tell when it might come. The wind was bitterly cold and ate through the thickest winter coats, until you were left wondering if you'd ever feel warm again. And this was only the beginning, only the very start of winter.
I sighed and swallowed before abandoning the useless patch, leaving it to stroll around the area. A sense of restlessness kept me moving from spot to spot even though the bruised leg complained about the lack of rest. It felt better now than before, it was starting to heal but would still take a while more before I'd be ready to run any marathons. And I hadn't been badly injured. Even Psyche looked worse for wear, not to mention the state of Mauja before he'd been healed... Maybe it was the knowledge that nothing would happen until they had healed at least a bit more that made me uneasy. Or it was the weather, the constant chill and gnawing of hunger as I couldn't find enough grazing to fill the belly. Gnawing on ice and snow helped against the thirst, but sooner or later we would all have to move. But where? Back to the Edge to battle once more, to some other herdland that perhaps were less prepared for an attack? Maybe we'd be forced to scatter of the winter, separate into groups and see to ourselves for survival until spring came anew and the season of war opened up for new opportunities.
A crimson tail slapped sharply against the hocks, sending the pegasus feather spinning in the cold wind. Really, I just wanted to do something, anything. Something concrete, so that I wouldn't have so much time to think and feel and reflect upon every little detail of the dreary landscape around me. Gritting the teeth and biting down an urge to lash out at the first best unicorn to cross my path I kept walking, pacing back and forth - even welcoming the discomfort of my bruises as a distraction.
 |
Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE |
| RayoDeSoleil |
10-15-2012, 08:14 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-18-2012, 04:29 PM by Psyche.)
 | |
When the Sun God had been banished for the season, everyone knew that this Frostfall was going to be particularly bitter. Without the heat from the sun, snowstorms would run rampant, coating the land in ice, locked in a miserable existence until the following season. And yet, this came from those who had resided in herdlands, further south than the barren plains of the Frostbreath Steppe. There, a frozen landscape was unbroken year-round, and with the harsh Frostfall is was nigh unbearable. The outcast Edge would be lost for certain without the knowledge of their King to guide them - and even he was seeming a bit worse for wear these days. It wasn't their new home - he was called the FrostHeart, after all, and land like this was more to his liking - but the Battle of the Edge had taken some of the life from him.
The shadow-mare wondered if he would regain his sense of purpose, given time. She had certainly not allowed their defeat to make her wither away - vengeance boiled deep in her veins, keeping her warm through the frigid nights, pushing her through the pain of her slowly healing wounds. It was a matter of shame that she had emerged so poorly in the battle; and a matter of regret that she had not done more. Had she fared better, would they still be in this position? The question preyed on her unoccupied mind, though she refused to wallow in self-pity when it appeared; it simply pushed her harder to recover, to recruit, and to plan their return to the Edge. Some might call it a rebellion - but this was wrong. A rebellion is what the Qian had done. The Edge retaking their home was simply revenge.
The jackal strolled quietly across the frozen tundra. She stuck out like a sore hoof, of course, with her dark pelt and multicolored trinkets; but then, she wasn't trying to hide. No, she would no longer hide from those who did not know her name - she would become a fearful force in Helovia. She had always been destined for such greatness, from learning at her father's knee to creating the Qian. Deserting her home had been a folly, she could see that now - despite budding feelings for the FrostHeart, she could have stayed, could have quelled her weakness. This would not have happened if she had. The snow crunched softly under quiet steps. Such regrets would get her nowhere. For now, she had to relearn the members of the Plague, and begin recruiting new members. Gain their trust. Convince them to follow her. But where to start, if they were nowhere to be found in this forsaken winter?
A familiar figure appeared not far from the ebony vixen; a dark grullo color, a crimson mane. The colors in and of themselves marked her as family to the shadow-mare; in a family full of crimson markings, Psyche alone had emerged plain. Giselle had helped her to overcome that weakness, as their father viewed it. Perhaps she would be willing to forge an alliance once more. Hatred overflowed the jackal's soul; it would not hurt to let go of a few old grievances. Trust may not reappear between the sisters, of course, but the ability to work together for the greater good? Well, anything to further her cause.
Hoofbeats picked up the pace, a slight limp evident from her injured shoulder. She called out to her sibling, alerting the older fae to her presence. She wasn't sure if she would be received well, but they had fought together again, and that was the basis of their problems, was it not? Giselle had deserted her once, after teaching Psyche everything she'd needed to know to gain their father's approval, which she had so desperately sought. Perhaps the battlefield had reforged their bond. Closer now, Psyche formed words into a terse, tired greeting. "Giselle." She was not interested in playing power games just now; instead, she was out to recruit. And her cause was one that she knew Giselle would support.
[W/C | 682]
| Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think. |  |
As the call rang out across the wastes I slowed down and raised the head to look around. It wasn't hard to find the owner of the familiar voice; Psyche was always difficult to miss. Not so much because of her grim coloration in this equally grim landscape, but because of the intensity with which she always seemed to carry herself. Her mind was always so active, and it felt as if it spilled out around her as she walked. I halted and watched her as she approached, the masked face close and unreadable. It was safe to say that our relationship had never been very good. In the past we had made use of one another, but at least on my part she had never been more than another of my plentiful siblings. A pawn to move when necessary, a distraction to take my mind off.. other things. I had been her commander and superior, and I found myself returned to the olden days as she said my name, curt and perhaps even wary.
It was amusing, really. Here we were, two shards of the shattered remnants of what could have been a family if things had been different. Bonded through blood and race, of memories and history, and yet I realized that I didn't know anything about this mare that stood before me. I could read nothing from her eyes, and I suspected that she felt much the same about me. Strangers in a strange land... But perhaps we still had some things in common. The important things.
"Psyche" I replied, in the same manner as she had greeted me. I put aside the flirting and the games, instead greeting her like I had in the past; a commander to a soldier, serious and with no room for silliness. "How unusual, for you to seek me out. Correct me if I'm wrong to assume it isn't because of sisterly affection." If there ever were any from my part, it had been beaten out of me before it managed to cloud my judgment. Pale eyes regarded her beneath a mask of patience and mild curiosity. Cool, collected. Anyone who watched us from afar would have guessed at two mares chatting casually, and missed the torrents that streamed beneath the surface - of judgment and guesses, assumption, reevaluation and confirmation. Did I wish for things to have been different between us? Not really. What, after all, was the fun in knowing where I had my precious little sister?
|
Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE |
| RayoDeSoleil |
| |
If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was that Giselle was not one to dance around a topic.
It was convenient that she would not have to play the games that she had to play with everyone else. She would not have to be deceptive, conniving - to her surprise, the change of pace was almost a relief. It was refreshing to be faced with a situation in which her counterpart knew precisely who she was and how she thought, and in fact had taught her much of what she knew. Of course there was no sisterly affection between the two mares; the older of the two had always been more of an officer to the younger's soldier. The irony of the situation was not lost on the shadow-mare: she was well aware that the ensuing conversation would reverse their roles.
The smile that sprang to her maw was coy, as was habitual for Psyche. She was fully aware that her usual tricks would not be effective on her older sister, but it's very difficult to break old habits. Again this could be noted as the dark fae continued in somewhat neutral vocals rather than the authoritative, sickly sweet tone that she usually adopted. "Ah, sister, you know me so well." In any other situation, this might have been a sarcastic jibe, but in this moment, she was not up to such tricks. Amber orbs scanned their surroundings, ensuring their solitude; it would not do to have come so far only to be found out by some unfortunate passerby.
"It would be folly for me to pretend I don't have a reason for seeking you out, so I'll just cut straight to the point. The invasion of the Edge was unacceptable, and I think that with the right unicorns involved, we can easily take our home back once we've had a chance to heal, and to organize." Her voice was no different that if she were discussing the weather; after all, this topic was not a new and exciting one, but rather one that she had pushed for a long time. "Clearly not everyone in our herd has quite the same ideals, but should such a group as were deemed worthy by Mauja exist, it would be an asset should you be a part of it."
It was important to not come across as demanding, for the shadow-mare knew this would not be accepted by this mare. It would be much more fruitful to make her feel sought after, though there would be a fine line between making Giselle feel wanted and making Psyche seem weak. And interesting line to toe, but should it be done correctly, it would yield excellent results. Despite any remaining resentment of her sister, even Psyche would admit that her addition to the ranks of the Plague would be a good one.
[W/C | 480]
| Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think. | |
|
|
Cold. Maybe I should head south. The foal I carry will struggle enough being born in Frostfall, let alone me somehow damaging her (hopefully her) accidently with my travelling. I sighed. I should head south, just flee this cold-eternal-winterland. Damn place. Filled with the white-fluff-that-never-ceases-falling. Ack. My cloven silver hooves fall softly, crunching delicately upon the frozen white. As I head down, intent of leaving this place, I notice two blurred shapes on the horizon. Mares- their pure scent floats. I would welcome the company of mares after... after old-black-and-wise-stallion. The one who had sired the little body I knew was growing inside me, much to my dismay. Oh no. I hadn't been thinking. How was I to try and foster the Sisterhood if I were to carry a foal of an old stallion?! Pray tell, fathers and mothers who sired the earth.
White shutters my blue eyes as I sweep my white eyelashes close. Do I dare approach those of are more likely racist than not, as I carry the foal of a horse? A old horse. I cannot fight the disgust filling me, nor the need to feel the black stallion's warm breath on me again, nor the desire to nestle up close to his big body and watch the seasons cycle by. Why? But as it was, I flounced into a bobbing trot, puffing with the effort to drag alone my little foal. I pause, slowly to a walk, grimacing. Already, my slender white belly was chubby and rounded.
Why me?
|
|
|
Code generated by Tintedglass Layout Generator
I made myself comfortable as the younger remnant of my family tried to get to the point. Hips cocking into a casual tilt, I hung back with the tip of a hoof resting lightly against the frozen soil, effectively sparing myself the discomfort of placing weight on the bruised leg. The decorated tail swayed slowly in the cold wind, and I did my best to ignore the chill that steadily radiated from the snow. The winter coat had grown in nicely but felt somewhat lacking in the harsh climate of the Steppe. It was so tempting to just turn away and leave, abandon this gathering of pitiful losers and make way somewhere else. But I wouldn't. Not because of some misplaced sense of sympathy - I rarely sympathized with anyone, if it wasn't about hatred for the unworthy or a recognition of someone else's blood lust. No, it was because I still could find uses for them. To provide distraction, a veil to shield my own actions and draw attention away from my own sinister workings.
Apparently Psyche was thinking rather much the same way. I could glean from her words that she wasn't talking about your average military group - the frosty king would be more than capable of leading something like that himself. No, if I knew anything about how the mind of my plainly colored sister worked, this was more about stealth. Of actions taken in the shadows, pricks of a needle rather than the force of blunt hammers. It rather reminded me of my time in Anarore, where once I had been second in command of such a group.
A thin silence stretched out as I mulled over the possibilities of my sisters proposition, lips pursing as I looked at her, beyond her, toward a pale shape that slowly came meandering toward us. I noticed how the sides of the mare appeared to be swelling, likely from child rather than any excess of food. A condescending snort alerted Psyche to the fact that we weren't actually alone, but it didn't keep me from replying to her proposition. Albeit slightly less straight forward than she had been - she would still know what I was talking about.
"I've suggested the needle approach myself, but didn't receive much feedback. I'll be honest with you, I don't care much for the opinion of the FrostHeart in this case. As long as something is done beside waiting, I'd be thrilled; and then it can be approved of or not." I shrugged slightly, the crimson strands of the mane shifting as I jerked the forelock away from my colorless eyes. It was no secret that I had little to no bonds to the herd or its leader. I followed them for my own convenience, not because of some murky sense of love or loyalty.
Lids narrowed over pallid orbs as I turned the head to look at the horned femme that lingered in our proximity, revealing to her that I knew she was there and that it might be unwise to listen too carefully.
"I hope you take into consideration though, that I will not accept a workman position." I glanced at Psyche, the full awareness of my older age, rank and greater amount of experience delivered with a small look. She could protest all she wanted, I wasn't going to accept having her above me in rank. Equal was the least I would demand - that, or no participation at all. And then we'd see how much of an 'asset' she deemed me to be. Enough to give up on some of her own authority?
|
Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE |
| RayoDeSoleil |
| |
"You insult me, sister," the shadow-mare replied cooly, a too-sweet smile on her lips. The return of her devious facade was mostly for the approaching mare's benefit; she knew better than to taunt her sibling so. Amber orbs gazed across the terra firma, surprisingly cold for such a warm color. She would not be so contemptible at first glance to one of her kind if not for the pregnant status of the newcomer. In truth, it was not even the unborn babe that offended the jackal. She sensed that this unicorn was not like she and her sister; she was not hardened, angry, vengeful. Of course, her analysis could be wrong, but Psyche was very good at reading others.
Eyes never leaving the pearl fae, the dark one spoke again. "I would not be so stupid as to try to place you in the lower ranks of such a group." Her vocals were cold now, her defenses returning. If her glare did not warn the newcomer away, then surely the proud stance would, holding herself in such a way that she appeared to be scoffing. If it were any other situation, she might have welcomed the pregnant mare, tried to coax her into the Plague; however, she was with foal, and therefore useless.
The shadow-mare was careful not to promise Giselle any position of power. She was sure that the older femme would catch this trick, seeing as she was not by any means stupid. But Psyche rather hoped that with their attention on the light one approaching, it would go undiscussed until a later date. She would not give up her power, that was for certain; nor would she oust Mauja from his position as second-in-command. Should he vacate it voluntarily, Giselle might stand a chance, but until then... Well, she would just have to watch her back. Regardless of pretty promises, she knew better than to trust her sister.
[W/C | 321]
| Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think. | |
[ooc: Tillas passes by. :/ no muse for this thread and I was interrupting your flow, so sorry!]
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
