the Rift


You wanna teach me to dance? [Blu, open]

Ahriman Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1

silver's meant to burn forever

The handsome yearling flicked his paperthin lobes in skepticism, as he stepped cautiously across the soggy marsh. Even though the sight of the treacherous swamp made his stomach churn, it also sparked curiosity in the depths of his mind. With a glance, the blank surface of the water seemed so peaceful, a special kind of decaying beauty, but thinking about what might lurk below sent chills through him. Pristine white locks fell in silky curls down his long, slender nape, his entire figure seemingly glowing bright white in the gloomy light that was so characteristic of the area. Lowering his maw to the water, he inhaled the smell of the rotting waters and grimaced in disgust. He thought about turning around, heading back to safety and the familiar, but instead, he stepped forward and slowly worked his way deeper into the marsh.

AHRIMAN

Ink Posts: 121
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years
Blu
#2


I pass through the eerie waters like a dark wraith.

I care little of the foul swamp clinging to me, wading through mire and murk with equal eagerness. I am lost within the whirl of my mind, troubled extensively by the recent events.

I think part of me wishes that one of the dead will rise and drag me beneath. Perhaps an end would be more peaceful than an ongoing existence.
I doubt I am brave enough to truly accept that should I be faced with it though.

The soul rebels against the idea of death. It is in our very nature to live and survive.

Sighing I glance up and lock eyes with the pale colt. I recognize him as one of the herd. I know little of him, never having met him, but holding my rank as I do it is imperative that I know my fellow herd mates.

Perplexed as to why a small colt would be out here I approach him, curiosity seen in the cock of my head. Cracking a frail smile as I near sweep my tail around and draw flowers for him. They pop from the decay here, black, but still beautiful in their own right. I hope to bring him comfort, but I think I do it more for myself than he in this moment. A sign that there is life and hope even in the most dismal of places in the darkest of hours.

I N K

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Ahriman Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#3

silver's meant to burn forever


The yearling looks up and into the black eyes of the older youth, slightly startled to see a familiar face there. Well, familiar may be too generous a word, as the two had never officially met, but the little one had watched Ink from a distance. They were opposites in everything, Ahriman was as pale as the other was black, and the colt couldn’t help but smile at the notion. The pupilless eyes of the older gave a slightly eerie feeling, but when the other started drawing flowers upon the ground before him, he felt instantly reassured, a wide smile spearing on his face.

In his mane, he carried proudly a white flower that had been given to him by one of the spirits in the Veins when he had been there; despite the many months that had come to pass, the flower did not wither away. It was most certainly magical, Ahriman told himself. “Those are beautiful, thank you,” he spoke in his light voice, stepping a little closer to the other. “This place gives me the chills. Do you venture here often?” he inquired, peering out across the murky waters, the air thick and unpleasant. “I am Ahriman by the way, I don’t think we have been introduced.

AHRIMAN

Ink Posts: 121
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years
Blu
#4


The boy was surely a braver one than I. Though his eyes were tinged briefly with white, he seemed quickly at ease with my approach and he held himself almost comfortably in this strange and sad landscape. Though not much older than he I felt significantly younger in comparison.

I glanced away, shuffling my hooves unceremoniously as he awkwardly complimented me. He speaks freely and I find myself glancing back towards him, shaking my head with a frown at his question. I couldn't imagine coming here often. Although I am not bothered by the place in the moment, tangled as I am in worries far beyond this land, it is a far cry from an enjoyable atmosphere regardless of your mood. Perhaps if I was truly planning on suicide, I may find some crumb of comfort here among the dead I'd soon be joining.

I exhale in a burst of steam, the clutch of frostfall not fully dispersed yet and the air a cool kiss on my hide that has grown warm with my wandering. It is a response to his query. A weary turn of conversation that I always flinch from. I suppose I am well trained by my past, too eager to duck from exposed teeth regardless if smiling or bared. This question has always been the defining moment of discovery in my peers. My previous silence could be brushed away as shyness, but none ever refused their name when asked.

None but I.

If it is not anger that becomes them, assumptions on my manners taken, then it is understanding that dawns in their face. They finally realize in what way I am lacking, and either drown me in pity or insults. Either one is cruel.

I roll my shoulders in a shrug, bobbing my head faintly. I do not wish him to think I am ignoring him, but can't he understand my limits? I sweep my tail around once more; it lands with a wet splat by my side. From its tips the black liquid pours freely and begins to turn into a deer. A reindeer to be specific. I draw it grazing, and then listening before it bounds away into the marshes and dissolves in the water like black blood spilling from a forgotten corpse.

I glance expressively at him, my eyes arched high with hope and reluctance all the same. Will he know?

I N K

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Ahriman Posts: N/A
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#5

silver's meant to burn forever


Ahriman wanted to believe in the good in all living things, much like his mother always had. From birth he had been taught tolerance and trust, and the sight of a familiar face made him relax instantly. Ahri had been born with an ancient soul, wise beyond his years and often acting much older than he really was. He had taken upon himself to protect his mother and his younger siblings, and it had matured him on many levels; for a time, his life was good. But he had no idea yet what was in store for him.

Lobes were perked forward in interest, but the other did not seem to have any intention of answering his question. The cold seeped slowly through his thin, pale coat, already shed and ready for summer. Shivering lightly, mulberry gaze flutter to the shadows that seemed to gather everywhere; was there movement? Attention was turned back to the black youth in front of him, but yet no response was given, only an exhale of air and a shrug of the shoulders. Pale colt looked puzzled for a moment, not quite sure why the other would not speak to him, but then realized that maybe he couldn’t.

The picture of the reindeer captured his attention, and he watched it intensely as it seemingly moved. Glancing up at the older colt, he spoke. “I think I understand,” the colt replied, a friendly smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Will you accompany me on a walk? It’s getting dark and I’m freezing, to be honest.

AHRIMAN

Ink Posts: 121
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years
Blu
#6


He reacts in a way I do not expect.

There is no sneer that spreads on his features signifying the hatred of one so different and weak. There is no pained light of pity that crinkles in the corners of his eyes, secretly a thanks that he should be stronger. There is no confusion or fear or ...anything. He stays the same.

I exhale heavily, perplexed by this attitude. It's not one I've ever met, even in those I would loosely consider friends, they had all undergone some change towards me once they knew.

I tilt my head, cautiously curious, but nod when he mentions taking a walk. With my mind not so cocooned in the ills of my fate these past days the stench and the chill of the bog has begun to set into me as well. I cannot ignore such a din any longer when there is a brightness so close to hoof. As Ahriman turns to move I smile shyly and fall into place beside him.

As we walk I paint for us, trying to smudge away some of the atrocities of existence and recreate a world significantly more beautiful.
If only I truly could.

I N K

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Ahriman Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#7

silver's meant to burn forever


Walking along slowly, the pale youth stepped with caution as the deceitfully calm waters could be a deathtrap for the reckless. He stayed close to the black artist, feeling the warmth of his body faintly against his own. Mulberry gaze watched the magnificent drawings that unfolded before him, smiling in appreciation; it was rare that anyone did anything for him to make him feel better.

For a fleeting second, his eyes left the drawings and drifted to the other’s face, before flickering away. What he felt in that moment disturbed him, but he did not let it show.

The bog was a little less grim in comfortable company. “I don’t live in the Edge anymore,” he spoke silently. It had been a painful decision when his mother chose to sever the bonds and live as an outcast, but Ahriman had followed her. “I need to look out for mother, and the little ones,” he continued after a small pause, not quite sure why this subject was suddenly brought up. Maybe he had had a need to talk about it that had been neglected for a while. It wasn’t like he could talk to Daenerys about it; he didn’t want to hurt her or make her feel bad.

What Ahriman did not realize was that he was the kid and she the parent. Such a young soul should not have to worry about those things. In time, he would learn.

AHRIMAN

Ink Posts: 121
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years
Blu
#8


There is an odd fascination that the noisy have with silence. It draws something unique in everyone, although prevalent themes seem to stand out most prominently. Often I have found that the quiet surrounding me causes others to whisper and soften, as if they have intruded upon a new plane of existence that does not permit the ruckus of beyond. Others seem to think the opposite, perhaps fearful of the pale hum of nothing. They rebel against it, their voices rising until they sound like rain on a hollow, metal cave.

Then still others, feel the need to fill the void with something. I wonder if they think that talking enough for the both of us would perhaps gift me with their speech, or that they're doing me a favor in providing the static of normal life. Maybe it's just a guilty conscious ringing in their ears, only finally heard when their voices stop. Once heard they are driven mad and pour it out of themselves, fervent to be rid of the beating heart echoing in the hollow of their mind.

I glance at Ahriman as he begins to talk, wondering which place he will slip into, especially considering his deft avoidance of being like any of the others in that first application. Where there has always been sameness he is so far different, but we can only be so different before we are once again, same.

He speaks gradually, which implies he feels no fevered rush to be rid of weights pressing on his soul. I flick my ears towards him, a sign that I am readily listening, one thing I am very good at. The lack of a voice gives strength to those in others, who otherwise find themselves drowned out. The mice stand up and become bears. I think Ahriman is use to being the mouse, all ears and little else. Yet now I am the ears, with nothing more to give, and so he begins to stand.

I bump my muzzle on his shoulder when he speaks of his departure from our home. My paintings have stopped for now, my interest captivated and my resources saved for communication. I let him catch my gaze, deep with thought, but not judgmental. He has not been the first to leave a home - I have gone through many in my young age. We must follow our hearts, although I realize now, I will miss him. Strange how we only ever learn to miss something once we lose it. I had a companion nesting right beside me and never knew until he'd flown away. Now I've got nothing but sticks, feathers and shit.

Ahriman continues, his words a soft patter of sound in this dingy mist. He has a calm and casual way about him that I enjoy, but an age to him that I lament, given the truth to his seasons. This latest confession wriggles into my very gut, casting my ears to settle uncertainly on my poll. I am no one to follow in the footsteps of, being an orphan with no parents to care for me or for me to care for, so my ideas are skewed.

I begin to craft a painting, depicting first one horse, dark in color, then a second horse. The second is Ahriman. I have made him only an outline, so that he is as pale as I can design, and I've made him smaller than the first horse, his mother, at least to start. I have him grow, soon standing above her. He is her protector, her guardian, though she should be his with her age shown by her height.

I glance at him.

I then draw a third horse. This one is messy and sketchy, owning no identity. It stand level with Ahriman's, then above.
I want to know, who will care for Ahriman when he is caring for others, least of all the one that is supposed to be caring for him?

I N K

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.


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