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06-20-2016, 06:40 AM
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
It was a constant struggle—wake up, get up, find some meaning to each long, sunlit day. Find some meaning to grazing. Drinking. Sleeping. And at the end of each day, the sun set, darkness reigned, and then, the sun rose again, and so the cycle went on, and on, and on.
And still no divine meaning presented itself to him. Still nothing gave him reason to slake his thirst, eat the dull, ash-tasting grass, or wake up again. So he drifted, through the trees of the edge, through the fog, along the cliffs, down to the beach, pacing the water, drifting back up home again, avoiding everything, everyone, accompanied only by his owls and his pain.
He didn't even know why he was hurting anymore. He just.. did.
Many times had he looked at himself in disgust, said you're miserable and pathetic, go do something with your unending life, but just as it was easy to chew himself out over it, it was hard to actually do something about it. But, yesterday had ended a bit differently. A small, flimsy spark of energy had grown in his chest, a restless surge through his bones. He hadn't wasted time agonizing, questioning, doubting. He had simply taken off, walked the long way to the Threshold, and wandered aimlessly through the trees as the stars wheeled overhead. Not much had happened. No one had passed Helovia's borders. Mauja had grazed some, dozed off, and woken again as the first hint of dawn began to lighten the sky in the east. He figured he could stay a few hours longer, and then head home and bury his face in a tussock.
He was thinner than he should've been, but not as thin as he had been. His ribs were a tad too prominent, his flanks a tad too sunken, and there were sharp angles were there previously had only been well-rounded muscle—but, he was still alive (not that he had much choice in the matter anymore), and he decided that that would have to be enough.
The owls came in from their night's hunting, and settled along his back. Irma perched directly on his spine, sharp talons digging into well-scarred black skin, while Diego chose to sit on the crystal staff he wore over his back. It was tucked in under the straps of a leather shoulder-bag and balanced on his broad rump. "Hello," he murmured, for once speaking out loud, to the preening owls. He could smell the faint blood on their talons and beaks.
Sighing to himself, Mauja set off again, down well-traveled paths. Perhaps the rising sun would bring him more luck.
And it did. Through the trees from the east came a mare, an elegant, seal-brown creature. Well, elegant and graceful in how she moved—otherwise, she was travel-worn, her long locks matted, tangled, and partially torn out. He both smelled and saw the fresh—and old—blood on her body. Some came here as castaways, refugees, exiles. Some came here and demanded the world bow to them. Mauja tilted his head to the side. You never really knew what you would find until you found it.
"Good morning," he called to the mare, picking his way over to intercept her path and to, unless she stopped, fall in beside her. "And welcome to Helovia. I am Mauja. Who might you be?"
Once, he had heard Lace say to Paladin, "you look like shit". As he studied the mare, he figured it was an appropriate description in this case too, but he kept his mouth shut.
[ lol I effed up last night when I did your table, it should be..
@Eliaren sorry this wasn't my best post >< ]
And still no divine meaning presented itself to him. Still nothing gave him reason to slake his thirst, eat the dull, ash-tasting grass, or wake up again. So he drifted, through the trees of the edge, through the fog, along the cliffs, down to the beach, pacing the water, drifting back up home again, avoiding everything, everyone, accompanied only by his owls and his pain.
He didn't even know why he was hurting anymore. He just.. did.
Many times had he looked at himself in disgust, said you're miserable and pathetic, go do something with your unending life, but just as it was easy to chew himself out over it, it was hard to actually do something about it. But, yesterday had ended a bit differently. A small, flimsy spark of energy had grown in his chest, a restless surge through his bones. He hadn't wasted time agonizing, questioning, doubting. He had simply taken off, walked the long way to the Threshold, and wandered aimlessly through the trees as the stars wheeled overhead. Not much had happened. No one had passed Helovia's borders. Mauja had grazed some, dozed off, and woken again as the first hint of dawn began to lighten the sky in the east. He figured he could stay a few hours longer, and then head home and bury his face in a tussock.
He was thinner than he should've been, but not as thin as he had been. His ribs were a tad too prominent, his flanks a tad too sunken, and there were sharp angles were there previously had only been well-rounded muscle—but, he was still alive (not that he had much choice in the matter anymore), and he decided that that would have to be enough.
The owls came in from their night's hunting, and settled along his back. Irma perched directly on his spine, sharp talons digging into well-scarred black skin, while Diego chose to sit on the crystal staff he wore over his back. It was tucked in under the straps of a leather shoulder-bag and balanced on his broad rump. "Hello," he murmured, for once speaking out loud, to the preening owls. He could smell the faint blood on their talons and beaks.
Sighing to himself, Mauja set off again, down well-traveled paths. Perhaps the rising sun would bring him more luck.
And it did. Through the trees from the east came a mare, an elegant, seal-brown creature. Well, elegant and graceful in how she moved—otherwise, she was travel-worn, her long locks matted, tangled, and partially torn out. He both smelled and saw the fresh—and old—blood on her body. Some came here as castaways, refugees, exiles. Some came here and demanded the world bow to them. Mauja tilted his head to the side. You never really knew what you would find until you found it.
"Good morning," he called to the mare, picking his way over to intercept her path and to, unless she stopped, fall in beside her. "And welcome to Helovia. I am Mauja. Who might you be?"
Once, he had heard Lace say to Paladin, "you look like shit". As he studied the mare, he figured it was an appropriate description in this case too, but he kept his mouth shut.
[ lol I effed up last night when I did your table, it should be..
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<a href="http://nicole-studios.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">∞</a></div>Mauja
the white queen
