of recoil and grace

the Rift

[OPEN] of recoil and grace

Cassius Posts: 46

Aurora Basin Haurspex atk: 3.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.0h :: 4 [Birdsong] HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE

mar

#11

01-04-2017, 01:53 AM

»› C A S S I U S ‹«

He had no reason to be there.

No right, no privilege; no idea who had died – and why there might be tears that roll from their faces. So many faces that congregated together for one stallion. Hidden against the onslaught of the rain, depriving these souls of the one tether that had – at one point – pulled them all together. As it did now.

One last hurrah, that escapes the stallion clutching what remains in vicious sobs. For all is lost, except for the memories that bind them to the man who lays still – emotionless, heart cold and hard.

The gray lingers, bearing witness to the fallen king. Loved, adored by those who came and offered their blessings for things Cassius had had no part in. But they were all realities that existed, that bled for one reason or another – serving purpose and poise for their due account.

They were not lost merely hidden behind their mortal flesh. Captured somewhere, deep within them – that sang in hushed tones, and in the corporeal ghosts that arise unannounced.

Cassius realizes that a great leader has left this world, for another. He cannot leave without imparting some sign of respect, regardless of how meaningless it was to those who knew the man. But the stallion owes the stranger more than he knows; for the mountains that keep standing, for the cold spirit of the Aurora Basin that still beats in a thriving herd. Despite its stagnant status, they have all risen to hold the deepest of their treasures for one last time.

The stallion lowers his head solemnly for a moment. Before turning away, leaving them as they are – there is no reason to stay any longer.

He is not one of them, but perhaps he may know of the great things the King had done one of these days. Perhaps he could keep the memory living, despite the decades that pass, and the generations that flourish from one after the other.

It is a loose and lofty thought however, one that is easily dispersed with the beating of the rains. Steady, drowning and painfully poignant.

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