 The sky was gray and the sea a deep shade of steel blue. Heavy mist obscured the horizon and made the two merge together somehow, lending the usually pleasant beach a bit of an eerie feeling. Out of the mists the dwarven steed strode, slowly and with a slight limp. His healing body did not take well to traveling, but he had to come back here, pretend that nothing had happened. Pretend that he still had somewhere to call home. Inside, he scolded himself for not appreciating it more when he had the chance, but this might be one of those cases where you don’t know what you’ve got until you lose it. He tried to stay his usual chipper self when around his herdmates, but when left alone he found himself still grieving. The Edge had been the first real home where he had felt comfortable. Happy, even. But it had been ripped away from him brutally and he found it harder to see the bright side of things.
This early afternoon, he felt as clouded as the sky above; it was one of those winter days where the sun never seems to rise. Aurelius was tired, but physically he was recovering. The wounds that he had received during the battle were healed and his shoulder only pained him when he was under stress or pushing himself too hard. Walking upon a dune, the short stag halted and glanced up toward the cliffs with his mismatched eyes. He dared not trespass on their borders, or he might be taken for hostile, though he had no such intentions. It seemed lately that he had started to doubt that he would ever feel anything besides this heavy knot in his stomach ever again. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger; Aurelius just felt weak. He needed to put some space between himself and the pacing Mauja, who was gloomier than ever and plotting his revenge upon their enemies. The dwarf couldn’t watch it for one moment longer, so much unlike him, he had left them behind.
Now, he took a deep breath of the cold, salty air and felt the lazy breeze tug on his tresses. They were not as rich and heavy as they used to be, some having been scorched by dragonfire in the battle, but it was growing back nicely. Eyes drifted out over the iron colored waves, lapping lazily at the shore, filling his ears with a rhythmic, pulsating sound. He felt comforted by surrounding himself with the familiar, and a deep sigh escaped his small maw. His winter coat had grown in, making him appear shaggier than ever, and he appreciated the milder weather at the shore. Sure, he was born for the cold, rocky landscapes like the one in the Steppe, but his heart had always longed for a more pleasant life. Might be this was his punishment, for always striving for something more, something better, when he should stop and smell the roses. In silence he stood, like a tiny statue, mismatched eyes slightly glazed as he crumbled from within.
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| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: 15 |
| Alex |
If I had pity, most wouldn't know it. I don't even know 'pity'. "Sympathetic or kindly sorrow evoked by the suffering, distress, or misfortune of another, often leading one to give relief or aid or to show mercy". Pity is weakness. Therefore, it is non-existent within my gray body. Pity, like sadness, is a way past hard armor. So I utilize it, but I do not feel the definition of it. Act it, yes. But feel it, no. Weaklings would say pity is what develops one, creates an emphatic and understanding character.
It is a pity I do not feel pity.
I had, in fact, been walking this shore for quite some time, debating on the righteousness of entering the World's Edge and the righteousness of mares or femmes in general. It is a disgrace for mares to lead, unless, of course, it is me. Mirage- Kri- Svetlana- ha! They deserve to be ripped off their high thrones and thrown into the dumps, to be replaced by a proper queen, one such as me, or by my sons. I do not wish to hold the throne myself- I do not have visions of grandeur. I wish all my sons were to achieve greatness, like Archibald and Evers. Those two have reached great heights, and they haven't fallen yet.
I squint, half-closing heather eyes, glaring at a stallion with the horns of a ram. Cute enough, in a shaggy kind of way, with frosty brown fur that hangs off his chubby, round frame. Certainly not a warrior enough for children, although I'm not certain I want to raise another son at the moment. What's he doing lingering near the World's Edge cliffs? He does not smell of the pine-salt-rime Edge. Ah. An Outcast. One of the fabled bad guys, the Ex-Edge.
"Whatever are you doing here?" I call, hooves digging into the wet sand as I narrow the distance. I consider morphing to a black jaguar, just to watch the goat run in fear, but I do not want to pounce and roar and chase, so I will talk. If he disappoints, well, I'll reconsider.
"Something to say."
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Someone approached. Petite lobes perked in the direction where dump hoofbeats were drifting toward him, but he did no further to acknowledge the presence of the stranger. Whoever it was, he felt certain that they would merely walk on and leave him alone; he hoped it. Being sociable was not something he felt like at the moment. Fog clung to his fur, freezing into tiny ice crystals and reflecting the sparse light that was allowed through the clouds. His eyes stayed on the blurry horizon; feeling like he was being sucked into it and his consciousness was engulfed by the soft whisper of waves.
Until she spoke. Her call grated through his ears uncomfortably and a snort escaped the dwarven steed. Maybe if he ignored her, she would give up and leave? Alas, he was curious to see who would stride around neutral territory with such an authoritative attitude. So he turned his head, meeting her gray eyes with a gaze of black and green. But his eyes were numb, cold even, as he looked her over. Plain at best, he thought to himself, looking from her provocative face to her stumpy tail. The pony did not answer right away; instead he flicked his tail over his rump and let his lobes slant back in slight annoyance. He waited just long enough. “One might ask you the same question, mare,” he simply spoke in an indifferent tone. He was not going to be bossed around by some wench walking up to him. A bitterness that dwelled within him was growing still, and this mare and her ways were only prodding the embers.
It was not pity he wanted. He had plenty of pity for himself; he didn’t need others to add to it. Aurelius was a warrior; he had proven himself and now had the scars to bear eternal witness of what he had been through. Something within him had changed, realizing that he could inflict pain upon others as had once been upon him. It could not go back, could not be the same as it once was. Somewhere within him was still the good-natured dwarf that had entered Helovia, but to protect himself, he had had to hide that part of himself for a while. Might be one day he would peek out again, but now was survival.
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| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: 15 |
| Alex |
11-15-2012, 05:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-15-2012, 05:43 PM by Mandrake.)
I'm the queen of playing games, and toying with stallions' minds. As for mares, I would rather just kill them straight-away. He's lucky he's not not a mare, for I would kill him right there and then for the insolence of making me wait for an answer. It's outright rude. And as for me, I will not tell my buisness to some bumbling leprechaun idiot running around questing mares! "I do not believe you're worthy of such an answer, colt. But why not? I'm here to find a foal to steal, silly. From the World's Edge, naturally." I narrow my eyes at him, half-wondering if I'm serious or if I'm just making up things on the spot. The thought whisks me away, back to my sons. I want to see them- I really do need to talk to them. I want to watch them hunt again, I do want to raise a child in the blood of his father, I want to watch my sons succeed, I want to hunt down stupid horses like this midget and kill them. I'm hungry to do something, instead of standing here gathering dust. "Now, you should tell me what you're doing here before I decide you're wasting my time. And you don't want to waste my time." The salty wind snatches at my black mane, winding it into curling knots, but my stone-gray eyes are cold and oblivious to anything except for this small stallion.
"Something to say."
[SO sorry for late reply!!]
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“Why of course, could it be any more obvious?” His voice dripped with irony, but the small steed no longer cared if she heard, nor did he care for any petty insults she might get creative with. He owed her nothing, least of all his time. Why should he even believe her? The whole point of keeping up a conversation with her was hard to find, but apparently, she was not taking the hint that his chill attitude was a polite way of telling her to get lost. Instead, he watched her with mismatched eyes as she got herself heated up, expressionless as ever. It was hard for him to feel anything these days; the once cheerful display of emotions had turned into a scowling, indecipherable façade. She is pathetic. It is not a sudden conclusion that he came to, he had known from the moment she opened her mouth.
“I owe you nothing, least of all an explanation. I do not care for your schemes, nor do I care to waste the breath,” he put simply, a dwarven statue as he stood there, like he had been carved out from the rocks of the lands that had once been his. His whole life had taught him to be tough, to turn the other cheek, and no matter how much she acted out, he couldn’t care. Turning his eyes back to the cliffs of the Edge, he stood in silence and let his gaze slide out over the ocean. Silently, he wished that she would leave this moment to him, that she would at least show him the respect of leaving him alone when he had made clear that he did not care for her company. But he was certain she wouldn’t. This mare was of the kind that does anything to spite you, to get some kind of reaction out of it. Aurelius felt it stirring under the surface, but this was not the time or place to unleash the ugly creature that had laid siege on his heart. He refused to give her the pleasure.
[I'm late too, but have been struggling with the muse for my little guy. Apologies.]
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