the Rift


[PRIVATE] the end [myrrine]

Quilyan Posts: 206
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2 hh :: 10 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zarina :: Pygmy Marmoset :: Quantum Leap ChaoticMelodies
#1
Everything hurts.

A part of him marvels that he doesn’t feel it more, but perhaps that is simply what happens when you lose part of your soul. Sure, the right side of his face is all blister and singed skin, half of the flesh burned away as a result of the dragon’s attack. His right hind leg is useless, swinging listlessly as the once-proud prince shuffles forward. His right wing is ragged and crooked, held awkwardly as a result of the horn that gouged into him in the horrific attack on the beach.

But all of that pales in comparison to the emptiness stretching like a void inside his mind.

Zarina’s body, cold and still, is settled upon his withers, held carefully between his folded wings. She is not dead – or if she is, he refuses to admit it – but she is not awake, and he feels not even the slightest tickle of her mind within his own. She has been unconscious since the attack – merely a day before – and if he cannot get her to a healer soon, he knows that she will perish. Already she is slipping away, despite his repeated attempts to lure her back into the land of the living.

He is not far behind her, in truth; his movement is agonizingly slow and painful, his vision hindered by the burns that destroyed his right eye. There is little chance that he will make it to a herdland, or find anyone with whom he can find refuge, not before the end comes to claim him. If only it had ended on the beach, if only the pair that had attacked him had heeded his begging and ended his suffering. But no – their cruelty ran deeper than that.

But the Ancient Rotunda is as good a place as any to die. The stallion winces as he leans against a pillar, the gently waving cloth that drapes the entrances caressing his bruised and battered frame. How many memories this place holds for the stallion – probably more than he can remember, given his history. It is blessedly deserted now, leaving him alone to process the end of what has been a thoroughly miserable existence.

He is scared, but he is almost ready to let go.

"more words."

@ Myrrine

Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!

Myrrine Posts: 179
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 5.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 3 (Orangemoon) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Watermel0nBob
#2
Myrrine

She didn't remember when this had become her place of solace. Yet as the time had passed it was always the brightly colored ceiling and drapes of silk that lured her back into this sanctuary that hugged her deepest secrets. When she had been but a foal, listening to stories from a beautiful spotted mare like herself; running and chasing butterflies and enjoying the sunshine, meeting Quilyan in her weakest moment. The last thought caused her to flinch, the bitter thoughts returning to her mind as she tried to shake him away from her conscious. He was a different part of her life now; and although he had promised to be a part of her life and Laume's, it hadn't really happened. Whether it was because of his own choice or he could sense she truly didn't want him there, she couldn't really fathom.

What she also couldn't fathom was the sudden taste of metal on her tongue that was the telltale of blood. Ears suddenly pricking and hazel eyes searching in the utmost alertness, her gaze rested upon the rustling of the curtains of her precious Rotunda. Without another thought she was pushing through them in order to help the poor creature who obviously needed assistance. She was stopped in her tracks by the sight that hit her like a ton of bricks. There upon the tiled floor, blood pooling beneath patches of gold; was Quilyan. Right eye non-existent, sinew throbbing with each pulse of his heart and a pitiful tuft of fur between his withers that she recognized as his companion.

"Q-Quil!" his name came out liked a ragged gasp, throaty and full of the anguish she couldn't hide from herself. Soon her body was to his, pressing into him to try and keep him warm. His wing was broken, hell everything about him pretty much was, and there was nothing she could do. She wasn't adept in the ways of healing, but her minimal knowledge was telling her that this indeed was the end for him; and the thought made her soul shatter. Tears flowing, lips finding his injured face and riddling it with fervent kisses she cried into him, at him, to the air surrounding him as she refused to let her skin break contact from his,"Oh my dear Quilyan... Who has done this to you?"

He was battered and burned, a pitiful lump of the glorious steed that he used to be. The tears wouldn't stop, and she moved to grab some of the curtain in an attempt to blanket him. She had learned that you got colder when you were dying, and she was trying so hard to keep him as comfortable as possible. He's not dying! that panicked part of her screamed, the youthful voice of young love sobbing and begging for this to all be a bad dream. But the real Myrrine knew, she knew from the sinking feeling in her heart and stomach that this was how Quilyan was going to leave this world. She was choking on her sobs and looking to him with pleading eyes, moving hastily to the side where his face could see her and kissed him lovingly, whispering sweet nothings of encouragement and comfort.

"I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you Quilyan. I'm sorry I pushed you away and didn't bring Laume to see you. You would have been an amazing father," she was stroking his ear with her muzzle, shaking uncontrollably as her chest was now soaked with tears and drool from her sobs. She was a mess of emotions; of the guilt and pain and anger that was welling deep inside. She could have done more to be there, she could have pretended to love him even if just for awhile. If she had been better she could have saved him from this agony. Or maybe she was hoping she would have saved herself from the sight of him like this.

Pressing her face into his shoulder with the utmost care she continued to wail, not sure how else to help him. She didn't even know if he was awake at this point, or if the early stages of death were slipping their fingers hungrily at his consciousness. Maybe he was just too tired to care anymore. That's how she felt these days too. Yet thinking of him simply choosing to give up burned so deep that she screamed, looking to him with venomous passion,"No! You're not allowed to leave me do you understand? If you leave I will NEVER FORGIVE YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME QUIL? DON'T FUCKING LEAVE ME DAMMIT!"
And in that moment; Myrrine realized that somewhere deep within her; she may have loved Quilyan a little bit. Even though it was too late to act on it now.

"Talk."
the butterfly is proof that great darkness
can create great beauty
image


@Quilyan My heart....
Any force is permitted aside from death or maiming
PLEASE TAG ME IN POSTS! :3

Quilyan Posts: 206
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2 hh :: 10 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zarina :: Pygmy Marmoset :: Quantum Leap ChaoticMelodies
#3
A voice rings in his ears as he sways back and forth, dangerously close to collapsing against the pillar on which he leans. At first, it sounds so far away that he imagines it might be Zarina, waking up from the cold slumber she has fallen into upon his withers. Zarina? he calls to her, and he isn’t sure if he is speaking aloud or if it’s all in his head, and the floor is spinning up to meet him and the ceiling is blurring into colorful swirls in his left eye, and all of a sudden he is aware of a figure beside him, a figure that he knows that he knows from somewhere, but the where is lingering just out of his reach. The beautiful spotted angel speaks, but he cannot make out the words through the ringing in his ears, and when he tries to shake his head to clear them he only agitates his wounds further. He gasps with the sudden, sharp pains.

“M-myrrine.” There it is, the name that spews sluggishly forth off of a tongue that feels too big for his mouth. His voice is thick, his pronunciation slurring, all of the charm that is usually present in his baritone voice replaced only with pain. “Where… where is Laume?” Please, anywhere but here, don’t let her see me like this. “Is she…safe?” A spasmodic cough wracks his golden frame, the strange, wheezing rattle of death evident now. And in spite of the haze of pain, the prince feels the sudden sting of guilt that she is the one to have stumbled upon his deathbed, she who never wanted anything of him besides a shoulder to cry on. And yet, he had hurt her. He had hurt everyone, and he is only making things worse now.

“Myrrine,” he whispers. He is fading fast, her form blurring into darkness even now. He hasn’t much time, but he has to do what he can to save her from this pain. “Don’t – don’t do this to yourself. It’s – too – late for me, I’m… I’m dying.” And he knows in his bones that what he says is true. “But I’ll watch over you – both of you – from wherever I end up. You won’t be alone, I promise.” His breaths are coming faster now, growing more shallow by the second. It won’t be long before he slips away for good. He is so tired, and things don’t hurt so badly here, lying on the floor of the Rotunda. It seems that Myrrine’s sobs are from somewhere far away, and somewhere in his soul he feels something beckoning him away.

But it doesn’t seem right to leave her just yet. He will hold on as long as he can, for her.

"more words."

@Myrrine

Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!

Myrrine Posts: 179
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 5.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 3 (Orangemoon) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Watermel0nBob
#4
Myrrine

She was so stressed she hadn't even heard his first question, all she could focus on was that everything that was coming out of his mouth wasn't him. It was a stranger masked to be the man she had found beneath these curtains long ago and had found solace in. It couldn't be her golden prince who was now holding on to his last breaths like lost dreams, the one who always tried to make her feel that she was really something of worth. But they both knew this was all a lie. His struggling words of comfort meant nothing to her, she couldn't believe or listen to him as he soon began to state the obvious; the words she didn't want to hear. She screamed out like a child having a tantrum, pure anger appearing in those golden orbs for the first time in her life,"DON'T BULLSHIT ME WITH THAT CLICHE GARBAGE! YOU WILL BE GONE AND I WILL BE ALONE AGAIN!" She gasped and turned away, realizing it was all selfish now; she just didn't want to be alone.

She didn't want to lose the one person who actually validated her existence.

"Quil," she cried, looking desperately to the broken mass that she had once felt upon her spotted frame in the throes of love; the wings at his side once embracing her to make her feel better, that eye of lilac fluttering closed as he finally began to let go. And though she wanted to keep fighting him, to make him feel that he should keep trying; she knew he was in just too much pain to ask him of that. This was his salvation and she would be the angel whose wings he would fly upon to his righteousness. Kissing his dirty and lackluster cheek she sighed, trying to succumb to the numbness that he most likely felt; because then maybe this wouldn't hurt so much. She refused to leave his side, and as he slipped deep into the beginnings of eternal slumber she did the only thing she was able to do in this moment. Something that would give him the peace that he desperately needed, because who deserved to die under such awful circumstances? Certainly not her beloved Quilyan.

So she began to hum, it deep and wavering in the beginning, but turning smooth in its pitch as she steadied her breathing and focused deeply on his vanishing mind; because deep within there had to be something he could see to make him feel the love she had felt for him. Because she would love Quilyan, she would love who he was and what he was in her life, and she would love him even as this; as his soul began to fade along with the happiness in her own. The tears would never end, and her eyes closed with his as she prepared for the breaths to soon cease. She didn't know when, but when it finally did come, her emotions would be unleashed in unrelenting fury; because what the fuck mattered in this world now if Quilyan wasn't in it.

"I love you my prince," she crooned after her humming ceased, letting her skull bury itself beneath his own as she waited in silence for his final breath to come.

"Talk."
the butterfly is proof that great darkness
can create great beauty
image


@Quilyan this is so bad I'm sorry T-T BUT I LOVE HIM
Any force is permitted aside from death or maiming
PLEASE TAG ME IN POSTS! :3

Quilyan Posts: 206
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2 hh :: 10 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zarina :: Pygmy Marmoset :: Quantum Leap ChaoticMelodies
#5
The prince drifts.

He is vaguely aware of Myrrine's voice as his violet eye flutters shut. He distantly realizes that he feels... cold. But for the most part, his mind simply floats away, drifting in the ethereal realm between life and whatever comes next. It is nice here, truth be told, not nearly as dark as he might have imagined. Everything seems to be enveloped in a warm fog. It cocoons him, lightening his burdens and easing his pain. And so as a shape emerges, he is able to smile (sight in his right eye seems to have been restored), and offer a bow. "Hello, m'lady," he greets dream-Myrrine fondly, reaching to touch noses with her. She lingers, and he watches her with only the mildest flicker of interest in his gaze. He is content here, and even the presence of the mother of his child can do little to arouse him.

She sighs, eventually. It seems simultaneously as though years have gone by and as though no time has passed. She begins to walk, and he falls into step beside her. He might have asked where they are going, but following her is the most natural thing in the world. He does not question it. The fog begins to clear before them, shifting and crawling to form walls around them. The wander down this hallway and that, twisting and turning through the maze of his mind until they arrive at a door of sorts. "Look," dream-Myrrine whispers in his ear; the door disappears, and a scene unfolds.

The tiny mare is terrified, that much he can see plainly. He watches himself attempt to console her, tucking his wings in as though to make them as small as possible. When they part ways, she seems a little less frightened. He cannot remember her name, but the faintest flicker of something buds in his chest, reaching for the mare before falling back to embers. The scene disappears, and the prince keeps walking. At the next door, he hears dream-Myrrine's voice again. "Remember," she commands. In the room, he is declaring his love for the tiny mare. She looks at him with adoration before snuggling under his wing.

"Resplendence," he whispers, and then he remembers.

In the real world, the prince breathes his last, a smile on his marred face.

"more words."

@Myrrine

Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture