the Rift


the lanterns won't go out at night
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#1
A white, black-spotted stallion strode through the snow. A white, black-spotted owl rode on his shoulder. Two sets of pale blue eyes watched the world, watched the small flakes of snow drifting from a hazy sky.

But they were neither here, nor there. They were not in Helovia as you know it.

Mauja's frustrated strides slowly bled out into nothing, like the flow of a river as the years dam it up: it was how he felt, too, as if he could measure himself in eternities and not mere years. He felt like the tree that had fallen, unbowed, like the mountain that was cracked without crumbling: defeated, but not broken. His hot skin steamed in the dark night, breath clouding his muzzle and ice adorning his whiskers. He knew this place. He knew every inch of snow, every curve of the horizon, every bump in the landscape. He was alone, and yet not alone at all.

"I love you, my dear," her ghost had said, black as the darkest of skies. "But why are you so cold?"
"Because I am made of ice," he had snapped at her, frustrated. She had flinched, hurt. She was nothing of her sinister smiles and poisoned purrs, nothing of ambition and sharp edges - just soft and loving.
She was not Psyche.


His head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut as he raised his muzzle to the sky. Frigid air burned his throat as he whispered his mantra, over and over again: "I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive..." but doubt laced his every syllable. Desperation and will drove him to take the next breath, for his heart to take the next beat. The burning sensation of cold air in his heaving lungs felt good. ".. I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive..." But how can you be alive, when everyone you meet don't exist?

Or when those who should exist, didn't?

Sometimes they shifted. Sometimes they changed. One day, Deimos had turned up in his life, just as randomly as he'd turned up in the World's Edge. But there had been no sinister vibration in the air, no glow of blue upon his poll and horn: there had been no words spoken in that odd blend of roughness and poison, so feline. He'd even been nice.

A few days later he'd shown up, again, as a scarred, scared stallion who had been shunned by society.

And at some point, the Edge had stretched out for miles on end into the sea, and once when he ambled south, the Veins of the Gods had been nothing but a few scattered rocks and the peak of a volcano, not yet having spewed out that which formed what it was - today? No, he scolded himself, still whispering ".. I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive I'm still alive...", today doesn't exist. I don't exist anymore.

Are we all dead?

He hissed; since Irma had gone silent, he'd begun to think he'd actually died. That at first, it had just been some state of comatose, but that he'd since then given up, his heart collapsed, and the tenuous link he'd had with his bird had shattered. Each probe he sent her faded like the day's heat after sunset, but for some reason she remained with him - perhaps because death had never known them to be apart, even in life? Mauja had tried to give up thinking - tried to swear off doing it, but how could he stop his mind from spinning frantically when each time he woke, he was still trapped here? Only in sleep was everything silent, and in sleep he fled to the life he had left behind - if it had been a life at all - and dreamed of those he had loved and since lost.

Not caring that he stood in the middle of the snowy tundra, he sighed, tilted his hips and leaned a hind hoof on its tip. Perhaps he would dream of nothing, and awake where he belonged.

As he slipped into the embrace of sleep, he felt - as always - that fearful spasm of not waking, that this time, there would be no going back, and then his mind slid off into oblivion.

this thread is for Ophelia.

( For those of you who aren't up-to-date about what's going on with Mauja, he's trapped somewhere in time, in a shifting alternate reality of Helovia. He's able to meet "alternate selves" of characters on the site, how they would've been if things in their life had played out differently etc, so it has nothing at all to do with how they actually are, or their actual histories, as the reason for their "different behaviors" is based on the fact that their actual histories never happened. )

Note to self: De/Vision - Turn me on
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#2


Was it wrong to feel this anger? The memories were there. They were in her mind, but every time she tried to look back in that reservoir, she was met with nothing but bright light. Ophelia snorted angrily and focused more, eyes closed and face twisted into a pained grimace. Nothing.She struck out violently with a front cloven hoof, as if her physical anger would break the unrelenting white barrier in her mind. The curtain of light was resilient and unyielding. What had caused this disaster? What had she done to deserve this? To forget everything and everyone she loved. Even the silver dragon that followed her around with mournful cries seemed to know who she was, but she did not.

Who was she? Memories, experiences, life shaped the individual, and she was now lost in her own skin. In this world, she was no one and knew no one. She was a blank slate that was tainted by the memories of others and not her own. She was nothing. Absolutely nothing. A heavy breath moved past her lips in a puff of white from the snow. Why had she come here? Something about this place seemed to set her at ease, calm her ever wandering mind. As her hooves glided across the pristine white snow, she tightened her jaw, emotions flowing freely from her unguarded heart.

My body is a cage.

A pearl of tears slid down the pale fur of her refined cheek bones, and she shook her head to try and rid the ducts of any liquid. Anger, pain, sadness... every emotion was hardwired to her eyes now, and she stood, powerless against the ocean that began to tumble down her face. How could she not remember her own twin sister? After searching Ktulu's mind and seeing her own, infant self from those stunning, crimson eyes, Ophelia had broken into hundreds of pieces that she was trying to sweep back into some semblance of structure. In Ktulu's mind, she had seen the way her charcoal figure seemed so sad, even from birth. She watched herself stand tall on the Tides with Nyra's horn at her side. She watched herself stumble with exhaustion as she shouldered her sister's weight across the vast wasteland until they reached Helovia.

Everything she was existed behind that barrier in her mind, and until it lifted, she would be nothing. The sky above began to dance with aurora's of brilliant color, and as she watched the dusk shift to night, Ophelia welcomed the distraction. "I am sorry," she murmured into the empty expanse. "To everyone I have injured in my absence, I am sorry." Emotional exhaustion was nearly as taxing as the physical, and she blew out a heavy breath before moving snow out of the way with her hooves. In the shadow of a mountain, she laid down on the rocky ground and tucked her grey nose in the crook of her knees, white and crimson mane a curved veil of her closed eyes.

Her mind wandered through the time and space of the confines of her own subconscious, exploring unknown futures, distant pasts and uncertain present. She wondered what unrecognized face would act upon the stage of her dreams this evening.




COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#3
How do you know when you dream? How do you know that the pounding of your heart isn't real, that the shadows stalking you aren't really there? How do you know? How do you tell?

You don't. Until you wake up.

Hounded by transparent creatures, presences, malicious eyes glittering at the edges of his vision and jaws snapping, crackling, at his haunches, he fled across the landscape of his mind. Unseen, but felt, his own stress chased him relentlessly, herding him: bloody cuts marred his hindquarters, a crimson trail left across the face of the world. He would be easy to find. Too easy. But each time he tried to take a path of his own choosing, flee into the dark, tangled forest that loomed on the horizon, those entities were there, and he never realized it until it was too late - when their teeth were already in his flesh, their claws tearing up his skin. And as he fled, he realized he was sobbing and screaming, crying out the names of those he had known.

He had no sense of time, no sense of how long he was chased - seconds? Hours? Covered in sweat and blood, he saw his own reflection for the fraction of a heartbeat: a wall, a blank, reflective sheet, loomed in front of his tear-blurred vision, but he had no chance to stop. His heart was hammering in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears, but he could still feel - smell - the invisible hounds chasing him, and with a wordless yell he tucked his head, the frosted tip of his horn leading as the next stride carried him through it. With a sound that didn't match the shattering of the mirror the ground shook, shards with fragments of his life falling like a silver rain around him - and his front hooves met nothing on the other side. Head over heels, Mauja tumbled into darkness.

He fell for what felt like an eternity. For most of the part, he was quite certain he fell head down, but then it changed, much in the way that things do in dreams. It felt - peaceful, almost, as if the air brushing past him stole away his worried thoughts and calmed the frantic gallop of his heart. Sighing, he closed his eyes, and accepted the dark.

A sound like water lapping against shore convinced him to open his eyes, and in surprise he saw that he lay in it, on a foreign shore. The moment he raised his head, Irma took flight into the sky, crying out, and with her she took the sun: her wings guided it up above the horizon, spilling golden light upon a small grove of apple trees. The water he lay in was cold and dark, the beach nothing more but a thin strip of gravel. Beyond that stood the grove, lush grass and wildflowers covering the ground; dark, thick trunks rose, healthy green leaves and shiny red apples sprouting from its branches. Irma had disappeared into the sky, and, frowning, Mauja got up and clambered onto the ground. It wasn't so much a slope as the rim of a basin. Shaking himself thoroughly, he paced into the grove, peering at the flowers - not even noticing that the sun dried him in an instant.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#4



Why do we dream if our thoughts mean nothing? Dreams speak in a deeply symbolic language.


What roused Ophelia first was the smell of soft, fresh, green grass, more real than the beating of her own heart. She opened her eyes carefully, taking in her surroundings with an ethereal familiarity. Ophelia had been here before, she was sure. (Right?) However, some of the scenery had been altered slightly. The roaring of the ocean in the distance could not be heard from where she was laying in the grass, and the sky overhead seemed even more endless, but she did not have to squint when looking into the sunlight that seemed almost softer.

The shade of the tree whose heavy leaden boughs danced over her made where she rested rather cool, and she inhaled deeply, relaxing in the sanctity of her own isolation. Deep, red roses began to grow in a circle around her, dotting the green landscape with crimson that matched the ends of her pristine white hair. She wondered why the roses decided to grow around her so beautifully, but she did not question the wonder. Instead, she gathered her cloven hooves beneath her and lifted her frame.

Red roses followed in her wake, sprouting forth from the ground with every weightless step she took. The salty smell of the ocean was not followed by the roaring still. Carefully, she stood in the shadow of a tree, roses sprouting and then staying still, quivering as she spied a stranger on the beach, an interloper in her sanctuary. Like a doe eyeing a predator, she stared at the white and black stallion with her dual colored eyes that were void of any visible sign of recognition. One hoof moved forward toward the stranger, nostrils quivering to catch his scent from the sea, but he held none. The air around him did not shift in her direction, and like a ghost, he did not possess of corporeal presence here.

Icy blue eyes met her own, and she froze, heart racing in her chest. Something about that gaze shook the very core of her being, rattling against a white, bright cage that struggled to contain a flood of memories. Something about that gaze made her remember things which were forgotten, things that were stolen. The familiarity was disturbing, and she knew that she should run. Run away from remembering. She had a purpose. There was a reason. In an instant, her limbs spun her body around, and she leaped forward, disappearing into trees. Too quickly, she drifted beyond forests and a pool of water that was golden instead of red. What was the reason?

"I should not know you," she whispered into the silent wind that moved past her fur soundlessly.

The trees gave way to white, thick snow, and still, the roses followed, leaving a crimson trail. A dark mouth of a cave beckoned her softly, and she slid into the icy darkness, spinning around to face the entrance. Her breath was white, but she did not feel the cold. Roses, feeling the beat of her frantic heart sprouted wildly, covering the entire floor in blood. She waited, wondering if he would find her, if he would follow.

"I cannot know you."





COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#5
And all of a sudden, she appeared, like something from a dream, a saint, an angel, come to carry him home. It slammed like a horn into his skull, seeing her like this: how many times had he not dreamed of those he had been forced to abandon, and how many times hadn't it wrenched his heart to see them, only to wake and find himself alone in that world were nothing, nothing, made sense? And yet again she stood in his dreams, and yet again it broke his spirit to see the ones he could never reach, never touch. The ghosts of his past come to haunt him again, and as his sad, tired eyes met her own, he wondered if the dead could die again, to truly be at rest.

Nothing mattered anymore. Captured by the brilliant crimson and glowing silver of her eyes, even the red apples seemed dull and lifeless. A breeze smelling of clover tugged at his mane and tail, watering his eyes, but he refused to blink, afraid that she'd disappear if he did. In his chest, his heart ached and yearned, but he was rooted to the spot: cold as ice, and were her roses came near him, they withered and died. Pain reared its ugly head inside again, threatening to choke the very life out of him - just because he couldn't let it out. Overwhelmed, he gave in to the urge, blinked, and she was gone. Like a doe, clad in the pelt of winter and with the wind under her hooves, she bounded away. "Wait!" he cried, his voice raw with desperation, emotion: as if his one hope of salvation was bounding away into the boundaries between life and death. The frigid bubble of air around him shattered as he threw himself into motion. Where she ran, light as the wind and with roses to mark the trail, the earth shuddered under his body and the ground shattered in his wake.

The red led him across the world, but for each step he took, she seemed to take two; as she passed out of his sight, the sun crashed abruptly beyond the horizon in a display as red as blood, before stranding him in darkness. It seemed to have hands, reaching out to stroke him when he passed, grabbing for his legs and clenching its fists around his heart. On a snowy field of roses he stopped, the breath catching in his throat. The world was gray, all color leeched from it, and he could not see which trail was hers. Opening his jaws wide, so wide that he possibly could, he screamed like he had never screamed before - a shrill sound of raw frustration, pain, and fear. He screamed, and the sky shattered just as the world did. As the ground caved in and rifts spitting steam threatened to consume him, a piece of the heavens fell to the ground and where it had been shone a star. Without hesitating, he ran again, bringing the end of the world with him.

And the roses were there again, somehow shining red in the light of the star, spinning, dancing, leaping, forming a path for him to follow. Faster he ran, forcing his legs to work, trying to outrun the destruction chasing him: another piece of the sky fell towards the earth, the reverberation of its impact shuddering up through his legs. He didn't dare look behind him. He didn't dare look at the dark mouths in the ground for fear of slowing.

He even barely looked ahead: all he cared about was following the trail, and only in the last moment did he realize that it led into a cave. A cave full of flowers, with a ghost in it. Forcing his stride to quicken, he thundered into it, somehow sliding to a smooth stop in the matter of a yard, passing through the roses without damaging them; he spun on his haunches, staring out into the world as it fell apart - but the floor of the cave remained whole, the sounds of the destruction muted, the reverberations only faint echoes. He could feel it thrumming up his legs as another section of the ground gave way and fell into nothing, steam hissing up from where it had been. The mountains on the horizon crumbled one by one.

Slowly, he turned to look at her - if she was still there, or if she had run again. As he tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart, the shuddering of his breath, he realized that he was shaking, little tremors rocking him from the inside out.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#6



Ophelia became acutely aware of the sound of destruction growing ever louder. She stepped through red roses to the mouth of the cave, looking beyond the vast expanse. Dual colored eyes were wide, staring through the fog to the other side. A yell of raw emotion carried on the cool wind to her ears as she tipped them forward, and a distinct crack, like the sound of lighting followed by thunder, rattled the ground beneath her hooves. Ice from the cave began to star like broken glass and chunks fell into the darkness that now was endless.

The sky above was breaking. Like a rift in the earth, a darkness more black that the night sky began to show through. Stars, pieces of the heavens, tumbled from the sky and landed in the distance, erupting in light that was almost blinding. A shockwave hit her squarely, but she helf her ground, nothing but the billowing banner of mane and tail caught in the madness. Ophelia stood like a bright beacon of another life, unaffected and unafraid of the apocalypse that followed in the stallion's wake. She watched him hurdling closer, slowly, as if he was running through transparent water.

Behind him, steam and the bowels of the earth rose, filling the cracks created by his motion with signs of the end. The smell was sterile, but her ears were roaring with the screams of a million voices and the cracking of shattering skies. As he moved closer, she backed into the darkness of her cave, and he slid inside, the roses moving out of his way. She watched him curiously as he turned to see the end of the world. Cautiously, she moved to his side, gazing as the ground, mere inches in front of her cloven hooves, gave way into endless blackness. Mountains, crafted through thousands of years of wind, rain and wear, crumbled with a groan of a dying deity, and the stars continued to fall like fiery rain.

"Are we going to die?" she asked, looking up now into his icy blue eyes with a new found courage and curiosity. Her voice was gentle, soft and gently tilted with interest. Ophelia appeared completely at ease with the thought of death, peaceful. She recognized that something was familiar, but the shaking veil of her memories did not waver. Instead, she leaned closer, knowing that if this was the end, she was glad to not be spending it alone. Tremors from the ground beneath them radiated up her long legs, and she wondered when their footing would tumble out from beneath them. However, the roses remained firmly rooted in place, tangling in the soft fur just above her hoof.




COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#7
She gave him sanctuary. She gave him space. And he breathed, deeply, steadying even as the world broke apart, as if he stole the stability from the very ground. But even as the sky fell, the star that had led him refused to join its brethren on the ground; hidden beyond the other side of the mountains it watched in quiet desolation as the dream fell apart, swallowed up by darkness. And within the bowels of that cave, of the sanctuary, Mauja watched as she came closer, closer, closer. She had once run - why? - but now she did not. She seemed unafraid, unfazed, drawn close to him in a way that both warmed and chilled him. One by one the stars winked out, leaving nothing but blackness for their eyes to meet; he kept looking at her, though, the way she inspected the rim, the nothing just beyond their hooves. She was so close - he remembered it, remembered standing beside her, the merest touch of her body against his - he remembered how the heat would radiate from her, to infect him, but despite their proximity he felt nothing. She was a ghost, down to the ivory of her coat.

"Are we going to die?" she asked, meeting his eyes - but she was not afraid. She was no creature he needed to soothe, to shield. He had no reason to steady under her gaze, to curve his lips into a gentle smile, and yet he did: "No," he told her, with a certainty that had merely moved into his soul some time in the recent past. She leaned in even closer, and he thought his heart would stop. What was this doing to him? What was it about her, that always did this to him? If she had been giving off heat... Without any subtlety whatsoever, Mauja tried to bump his shoulder into hers, to feel the firmness of the bone beneath the skin and thin flesh - but he felt nothing, except a weirdly gross sensation as the image of his body seemed to slide into hers. He recoiled with a grimace as the last star winked out, stranding them in complete darkness except for the soft glow of the roses. It painted the underside of her body crimson.

"So.." he said after a moment, his voice thoughtful. His gaze slid down, to the roses touching her fetlocks: more and more he came to realize, that this was just another dream.. but he wasn't quite sure when it had begun, or where it would end. It was not the first time he had dreamed of her - unlikely the last, too. It wasn't the first time he talked to his own mind when he dreamed, either. "We're in a cave. As usual, I guess." In fact, he spoke to himself when awake too. Call it mad, but it was better than talking to all those imitations of those he knew - those twisted, twisted beings who weren't themselves. They claimed the same names, but nothing about them was the same. Nothing. He sighed, the ethereal calm cloaking him like the snow had cloaked the ruin world. Odd, how quickly the mood shifts in dreams. Frowning, he peered over his shoulder into the darkness, but the glow of the blood-colored roses just faded into the black veil.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#8



Something about this situation nagged in the corner of her mind like the ticking of a clock. The prickling sensation that she knew him, truly knew him was a feeling that wrapped itself around her like a blanket, forcing her muscles to act. At first, the sensation told her to run, to flee what her mind could not understand or grasp, but now, curiosity had taken hold and refused to let go. No heat moved off of his pale, dotted figure to seep into her own fur. Something about him, even though he was perfectly solid and cast a shadow, was ghostly. The strange stallion was not truly here, she knew, but she found herself longing to be close, especially with a comforting smile moved across his lips, bright, blue eyes glancing down at her with an openness that threatened to swallow her whole.

The stallion reassured her that they would not die with a certainty that was powerful enough to raise mountains, should he but speak that truth into being. One, simple word was enough for her to accept, and she nodded, averted her gaze, save her soul crush beneath the weight of his blue eyes. When he moved closer, her breath caught into her chest, but he moved right through her body. The intimacy was hindered and shackled by a disgusting cold, clammy feeling that pervaded her entire body. She recoiled as he did, snorting a puff of white breath that disappeared into darkness when the final star in the sky came crashing down. A shockwave of light without sound made the horizon glow for a brief moment, glazing both of them in a golden light with harsh, deep shadows. But nothing bright or lovely would last here, not when she knew that her only companion was not even real. That fact made her grimace sadly as the star died in the distance, and she dipped her head low, exhaling her loneliness.

Like the reflection on a lighted pool of water, the red glow of the roses painted her underside with a bloody red and his figure was glowing with the crimson hue as well. She regarded his handsome, muscular figure appreciatively. (This was her dream, after all). The deep tenor of his voice broke the silence and her wandering gaze, and she looked in the direction of his voice, still able to see him despite the absence of light. He mentioned that they had been here before, and she felt that this fact was familiar. She did not know why, but this was truth. She accepted it blindly and nodded. "Remind me?" she asked, wanting to relive the moment that she was unable to grasp from her own mind.

The darkness that lay behind them was tempting, and she gazed over her tall withers as he did. The glow of the roses disappeared, and she wondered if they would continue to follow her steps, even into the nothingness beyond. Would he be able to follow? Curiously, she turned with a grace only capable in dreams, and she walked boldly into the depths, glowing roses continuing to weave and grow all around her hooves, making a path. Ophelia had a kind heart. She would not leave the strange and familiar stallion to wander in his abyss alone, so she paused and turned back, a gentle smile on her lips. "We are left with but one path to follow," she murmured softly. "I do not wish for you to travel alone."




COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#9
Crimson blossomed like strange flowers, gentle, glowing light pooling on their white hairs. Mauja flicked an ear back for a moment, wondering if she had ever been so open before - he was no fool to the wandering of her eyes across his body, nor to the way he responded, arching his neck and raising his tail slightly. If this was how his soul reacted to having her eyes upon him - no wonder his dream made her look at him so. Some part of him wanted to sigh, and wake up, but the desperate, stronger part of him wanted to forget that it was a dream: to feel as if it was real, again, to not shy away from the notion that he felt something for this apparition of his past. To embrace it. But it was nothing but a dream, a wishful dream, and once he had realized he was dreaming, he had a hard time forgetting it again.

Her teasing question brought a humorless smile to his face, the word "Cruel," whispered in an odd mix of annoyance and tenderness. Why would his dream plague him so, torment him, ask him to relive the moments when he had truly, physically, stood near her, and not just dreamed of her pale figure? Remembering the times when he had been real, in possession of a body, alive, and able to touch, it hurt, to think of all the things he had lost. But the weakness in him had festered, to the point where he was overrun by his own thoughts - as if clinging to what life he had lived, would take him back. Even if this was just an incorporeal shadow of the mare he had known but briefly, he could not resist humoring her, allowing his dream to play out all the things he had never done, never said. What harm could it be? "I was wounded after a battle," he began, nodding as she moved off into the darkness with an ethereal grace. It nearly hurt his mind to watch as she so lightly stepped through the roses, their scarlet glow guiding their hooves. Without hesitation Mauja strode after her, leaving prints of frost which flared cold blue briefly before flickering out. "Infected in both flesh and soul. You, and a healer, found me."

She was so real... just in front of him, but he slipped up beside her, so real just beside him, but he dared not touch her again. He did not want to remember that she was, in spite of everything, not real. Even the way she had simply turned and started to walk away was so her, it made the air stick in his throat. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be dead. Each night when he awoke from these dreams of the past, he knew that he wanted to go back. "Ironically.. we were in a cave. You supported me." A small grin curved his lips again, before he gave his head a shake in the darkness, his long mane cascading in the flow of light. He allowed himself to be silent, to merely walk by her side, imagining the scent of her mane and the warmth of her skin, but feeling naught. To be so close, and yet so far... As if he lived his life behind a veil, a curtain, able to see the shadows of those he yearned to join, but never able to reach out. Giving a low snort, he paused when their road of roses came to an abrupt change: three paths spiraled out from where they stood, each winding into the darkness, a soft, red glow marking it.

He felt no particular desire to go anywhere at all, but instead, his mind tracked back, falling through the minutes, to when the last star had died - the words she had spoken, as her ghastly frame had elegantly turned and slid away. A humorless smile drifted across his face, bitterness in his voice as he spoke: "But I am always alone, now." Something about it - perhaps his own helplessness - angered him, and as a line of gold slithered once like a snake across his body, shimmering softly despite its flashing movement, Mauja pawed at the ground. Golden sparks struck off where his frosty hoof met the hard rock beneath, lighting something in the distance, somewhere between the center and rightmost rose paths: it was warm in color, soft, shimmering, flickering like fire, but shapeless from this far away. Once more devoid of emotion, the burst of anger having left him dull and sad again, Mauja stared at it, across the black distance.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#10



The supple muscles along his crest tensed as his neck arched, long, white tendrils of mane shifting in his short fur, and the weight of his thick tail lifted from the ground just a little. Ophelia could not help but be impressed. Her mind managed to conjure very handsome creatures with which to tantalize her lonely mind. And he must have visited her dreams before, because she could not shake his familiarity. When his pink lips turned upward in a humorless smile and uttered a single, aching word, her tulip, pale ears tilted to the side, expression sobering. She did not wish to torture the stallion in her dreams, to force him to relive an unknown past. However, she did want to know, had to know what he believed to have transpired between them. Reality or fantasy, she wanted to know everything.

So, she turned, hearing his words follow with the tilt of an ear. He had been in a battle. What battle? She could not recall any destructive event, but she had trouble remembering anything as of late. The heavier steps of her mind-friend made ovular, blue marks in the earth that glowed with the essence of Frostfall before fading. Blue and crimson mingled in roses and ice on the floor, like her strange eyes. Frost and violence. Ice and fire. Water and blood. What had infected his soul, she wondered? Infections of the body were easily explained, especially when attained from battle wounds. Infections of the mind, however, often festered over years and rarely came to light. Gentle, open curiosity lit her eyes as he spoke, remembering nothing.

She had supported him, in a cave, and she wondered if that was why they were here now. Was she supporting him still? Ophelia hoped that something she could do would ease the suffering of her mind-friend, be him a figment of her imagination or some form of strange reality. The smile that curved his lips them was pleasant to see, and she returned the expression, letting out a breath that she had not realized she had been holding. When he came to an abrupt halt, she followed suit, brows furrowing in confusion at the three paths that now spun before them. Choices always had to be made, but the choice of a path when all that rested in their wake was emptiness was a true challenge.

His words, once more, made her soul ache, and she frowned. "You are not alone," she murmured. "I do not know what is real, but I know that I am speaking with you now. We are not alone." She watched as a gold line of line snaked through his body. Was this where he left her? Would he disappear into the gold and abandon her to these three choices alone? One of his mighty hooves struck the ground, gold sparking from the earth like a spray of fire, and she looked ahead as a glowing light began to shine with a welcoming warmth in the distance. Ophelia felt an urge in her gut to follow the light, having always been attracted to the brighter, pure elements of life.

It seemed, however, that these paths were not meant for her, and she looked up into his strong face with her strange, dual colored eyes. "Lead on, and I will follow," she promised, her voice still soft but firm. Whatever path he chose, she would stand at his side, unwilling to let him face the mystery of this place alone.




COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#11
For a moment, after he had spoken of his bitter outlook on his own "life", he closed his eyes. Blanketed in the darkness of his vivid dream, in the thick, compact silence of the limitless cavern, he felt - safe? Alone? In the space before Ophelia replied to him she was silent, too silent for him to hear even the ticking of her heart: she had no smell, no warmth, no signs of life. This, this was what death should be like - complete, and dark. Not a mocking masquerade, where all the people you had known were paraded in front of you like twisted, altered beings, wholly unknown. Death should not be an endless torment of forced remembrance. No matter where he ran in this Helovia of death did they leave him alone. Someone always found him. Someone always reminded him of life, of the sweet spring air and the scent of your friends. Everything here was marred by that notion that it wasn't real, coloring even the most vibrant of sunsets different shades of gray.

"You are not alone. I do not know what is real, but I know that I am speaking with you now. We are not alone." A bitter laugh escaped his dark muzzle as his winter-sky eyes opened again, pupils dilating to drink in the sparse light. Black, crimson and gold made up their world. How I want to believe you, Ophelia, his heart murmured, but his voice said: "Ah, Ophelia, Ophelia... If that was so, you're only talking to the dead." And you're nothing but a dream, but to tell her that would be rude, and so counter-productive to trying to fall back into the lack of knowledge of his own dreaming. I want to believe, that you are here, that you are real. That you are talking to me. But more and more I'm coming to realize, that I have died, and spend my days walking among the dead aspects of others - the personalities that could never be, because their histories shaped them different. I am dead, and they are dead, beyond reach. His gaze slid into the darkness, his mind trying to forget the taste of her name upon his tongue.

From the corner of his guarded, sad eye, he saw her head tilt up, looking at him; the scarlet light danced along the refined edges of his face, creating a surreal, otherworldly ghost of red sitting just outside his own skin, the shadows even darker. Lead on? He let his gaze sweep across the canvas of his dream, trailing the three paths, staring at the point where the darkness swallowed them. And the gold, the gold swam out in the blackness, untouched by any of the red. For a moment he looked down at the roses pooling beneath their hooves, and the faint shimmer of gold dust where he had struck the earth.

"I hope you're not afraid of the dark," he told her quietly, and stepped out into the sea of shadows.

Mauja had never been one to abide to the rules of a box, of a cage: he went where he pleased and took what he wanted, breaking boundaries and laws at his whim. If none of the paths led to where he wanted to go - why should he follow them? And so, he breached the darkness, carefully feeling that the earth bore his weight before committing to each step. Walking lightly, with his neck arched, he stared at the world beyond them, as if he could penetrate the darkness with his eyes. The crimson paths seemed to fade, dull, and the further he walked, the more gold the world seemed. It shimmered in the air around him, gradually solidifying into a sphere, an aura of it, and beyond it, shadow entities threw themselves at it, howling and raging, like fanged, clawed beings from his nightmares. He merely watched them warily, stepping closer and closer to the beacon of gold he had somehow revealed, until they were there - and at their hooves, lay a pool of liquid gold, shimmering and shining but offering no reflection.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#12



The bitter laugh was rough on her ears, and she grit her teeth as one would in response to nails being scraped over glass. She frowned, though not out of disappointment, but sorrow. He should not hold such pain and anguish in his heart, such bitterness. No words of chiding or comfort came to her mind to speak. Instead, she watched him, eyes open and inviting, a calm in the raging sea. Patiently, she smiled, shrugging her angling shoulders a little and tossing her crimson and pale forelock to the side. "Be that as it may, this is our fate now, and as long as I am here, you are not facing it alone." She replied to him in a gentle firmness, the expression of positive emotion almost ironic in the blackness of the cave. Certainly the expression was ironic in comparison to his words, but her gentle spirit and caring heart would not be stifled, not even by the truth.

At least, not until her memories returned to her and all the darkness of her past washed over her once more. Perhaps the stallion was right. What if she had passed on into another world? What if she was the one dragging his soul into the underworld. Ophelia shook her head slightly as if she could physically knock the thought from her mind. The crimson and blue of her eyes were nearly blocked out by the width of her pupils, making her expression rather inky and dark. Most of the kindness was written in the subtle lines of her brows, but the color of her irises also aided her usual, gentle expression.

The planes of his face wrote a masculine story, and the crimson light only made him look like more of a fierce warrior. The sadness in his eye spoke volumes of his tales, volumes she could only hope to read one day. Perhaps she would be allowed to edit those tales, or at least turn the plot in a different direction. Ah, but she was dreaming, and her mind was a cruel author. She watched as the gold light danced into the darkness where even the crimson of her roses did not follow, and the gold dust from his hooves gave off a subtle glow, making the stallion look rather regal, cast in crimson and gold. Afraid of the dark? She nearly smirked. Fear was not an emotion she normally felt, due to an odd defect of her physiology, but the darkness was not a predator to her mind. The blackness cradled her like the soft touch of her mother's nose, holding her tightly in its safety. She was hidden in the darkness, watching unseen, and that was her comfort - to be unseen. "No, quite the opposite," she replied.

Without hesitation, she followed, the roses no longer following in her wake. The gold glow was pervading, and she allowed here eyes a moment to adjust, no longer inky black, but a stark, colorful pair against the gold. Howling, murky demons rattled the bars of an invisible cage, and she snorted once as something more vile than a venomous snake curled around one of her hind fetlocks. Anger flashed in her eyes, and she pinned her tulip ears to hear skull, yanking her hind leg from the grasp of a stray monster. To ensure that it would leave them alone, she bared her ivories, stomping a cloven hoof and leaning her neck down, arched to snap at it. Almost as quickly as the violence overcame her figure, it faded. Her ears tilted forward once more, muscles relaxing beneath opaque fur. She moved forward, following.

Her breath caught in her chest when they arrived at their destination. Before them lay a gold, liquid pool. The light of the gold was bright and shimmering, but nothing was reflected on the surface. She lowered her muzzle to it slowly, letting out a strong, solid breath through her grey nostrils. The surface barely responded to the stimulus, and she looked up at the pale, dotted stallion curiously. Her gaze shifted back to the pool then and she gauged how much power she would need in her haunches to cross the section. With a bit of a running start, she would be able to leap over. "I could somehow make sense of most everything, but this is most perplexing," she murmured quietly, curiosity and a yearning for knowledge filling her expression with a childish brightness.




COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#13
She kept insisting that he was not alone, and, had she been someone else, he might've argued - might've shouted, you are nothing but a dream! and wallowed in his miserable, pitiful emptiness. Pathetic, but also true. But she was Ophelia, even if it was just one of a dream, and somehow he could not bring himself to show neither scorn nor wretchedness in front of her, and so he merely averted his gaze with a sigh. Was he so desperate for life, that even his dream kept repeating that he was not alone? Of course, he thought bitterly. Who wants to be dead, after all? "But don't follow me into death," he told her, turning his scarlet-cast face towards her - anguish and pleas mingled, like a cacophony of desires, in his eyes. "That, I must face alone. And you, you are far too beautiful and good to die." The last, nothing but a murmur, a whisper, in the dark. Your dreams, they stay in your skull, but they consume you from within: it was harder to resist what he felt, harder to find a reason not to probe the dusty corners of his mind. Harder to care. He closed his eyes.

She was not afraid of the dark, but he wondered idly as they stepped into it, if he was - it was not in his nature to fear anything, really, but when your entire existence had been turned into a chase for truth and life, when your mind ran itself ragged, it was harder to retain that natural.. confidence. But even as they left the crimson roses behind, and their world turned to gold, he found that his heartbeat did not quicken, his eyes did not widen; he was not afraid of darkness, nor of the ghouls that battered themselves against his certainty, wrathful of being cheated of their prey. And so, the things he feared still numbered only two: fire, and complete, utter devotion.

Nor did Ophelia fear it, at least so it seemed to him. Where it encroached upon her, she snapped at it, and it stayed back, obedient. Perhaps it was weak, seeking prey of lesser strength, but he paid it no heed. Had no reason to. The golden glow pushed it back, until their hooves stood upon the rim of the pool. Where she studied it with obvious delight, he hung back, raising his head and staring into the darkness, wondering, how much time do we have left before I awake? Fear of waking often woke him sooner, and yet he couldn't steer his mind away from it - too caught up in reality to fall into dreams. And still, nightmare entities pushed against the golden aura, seeking to devour their dream and fill their hearts with fear. He would not let them. He would not let them taint his memories of Phi.

When she spoke, his head slowly rotated down, black-rimmed ears forward and alert. "Perhaps it's not supposed to make sense," he offered with a slight, amused smile. It was easy to forget, that she was so young still - so much younger than he. It was easy to forget, too, how different she was. While he loved to learn, he did not need everything to fit in.. especially not in dreams. "It's only a dream, after all." And they seldom made sense, though his sleeping mind found that even odd things made sense: like the destruction of the world, the trail of roses, the things that happened. Had he been truly awake he would've wondered at them, but as it were, they felt natural. And so, he slowly lowered his own head to the surface, and plunged his muzzle in. It was.. neither hot nor cold, more sluggish than water but obviously not solid. Frowning, he pulled his maw out of it, gold dripping off the edges of his whiskers. "Huh," was all he said, unaware that his eyes had glazed over completely with gold.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#14


How could she deny the pleading symphony in those icy eyes? Though she knew in her heart that she would descend into the depths of hell to retrieve his soul. The fact that she would go to such lengths for a figment of her imagination could be concerning, but she did not linger on her own madness. He called her beautiful, in a murmur, and could she blush, she would have. Still, she remained silent on that fact, knowing that she was nothing unique, certainly not as beautiful as most. Loneliness had a way of tinting beauty in the favor of the only other creature in the vicinity. Ophelia could not lie, so she offered a subtle, gentle affirmative to his request with a nod of her delicate head. A quiet gesture was easier to break than binding words.

Were she in full possession of her memories, she would be able to admit to him and herself her true fears. She feared being a child, treated like a child because she feared making a fool of herself. She feared not having her sister. She feared commitment. She feared being remembered by others as something less than perfect. Darkness, loneliness, isolation, and death were a comfort in comparison. However, her history was hidden, and what she feared lingered only in the shadows. She knew, but she knew not why. For a creature of curiosity and a lust for knowledge, not knowing why plagued at her mind every second of every day. Even in her dreams. The mare did not know why the thought popped into her mind, but she looked at the stallion, her expression softening. "Even when I wake up, you will not be lost. You will exist in my mind, and I never forget."

The golden pool that appeared at their hooves posed an interesting, mental conundrum to the white mare. Everything from the apocalypse, the roses, the ice, and the cave all fell in to place. But this? Ophelia did not covet riches or fame. She did not desire power or influence. When he muttered that maybe the gold was not supposed to make sense, she lifted her neck slowly, brows furrowed deeply. Everything, always made sense somehow, right? Everything had a purpose, no matter how small. The thought that something entirely out of place existed for no other reason than to just exist was a foreign and not entirely welcome concept.

As she tried to simply accept the fact that the pool was just there to seemingly irritate her mind, she watched as the him lower his muzzle to the surface. Her gut clenched when he pushed his nose into the liquid, and she grit her teeth, fearful of what would happen. Still, she could not deny that she wanted to know what would happen, so she watched with bated breath as drops of gold slid off of his whiskers. Once icy orbs turned to gold. Her own two toned orbs widened with caution, and she lifted her neck almost warily. "Your eyes..." she murmured. "They mirror the pool..." Her words trailed off, unsure of what to do next. The eyes were the window to the soul, so was his heart hardening into the greedy metal as well?




COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#15
She said, what she should not say. She said something, which made no sense. She said, "Even when I wake up...", but that was an impossibility. He was the one dreaming - she was just a figment of his imagination, a vision of his past, victim of the desperation of a dying man still clinging to life. He was the one who would wake, and through his many dreams - and many of them nothing short of odd - had he never encountered someone who claimed to have a life to wake up to. Again, that streak of bitterness whispered, tell her, tell her she's not real, not here, but he quenched it, shocked into silence - shocked into doing something else, something menial, dipping his muzzle in gold, while his mind spun unhindered, rifling through possibilities before discarding them. It could not be... It was the kind of thing that just didn't happen. She murmured about his eyes, and he turned his head, frowning, looking at her - as if he could somehow reflect himself in her, and see for himself what happened. Foolish.

".. you will exist in my mind..." "Odd," he said, voice distant. "I don't feel any different." No, you're just spacing out. I felt different before I touched it. When the possibility.. what if..? How could he see, if his pupils were covered? How could he see if his eyes were golden? He turned back to the darkness, stared into it, trying not to look at the golden glow cast at them both.

"You said..." he whispered, afraid of speaking, afraid of waking; afraid of breaking this fragile dream. Afraid of everything he had told her. Afraid.. of everything he felt. He clenched his jaws, feeling sick, as if he balanced on the edge of a great chasm, and not only did the wind tug at him, but the thought of leaping down was sickeningly sweet and thrilling. As if he wanted to fall, break every bone and feel whatever it was that lurked on the edges of his mind to the fullest. ".. when I wake up ..." The glow of the pool was dimming, the gold hardening, growing colder, less vibrant; and his eyes, grew only brighter as if his soul drank in all the light which had drawn them here. "Are you dreaming.."

He spoke more to the darkness and less to her, and despite the cacophony of the ghouls outside as they howled and rage, the air within their golden bubble was calm, still; despite the way his whisper was barely more than a breath it carried clearly, a tremble in it as his golden, glowing eyes gazed into the distance. ".. of me..." Brighter by the second as the pool faded into nothing, almost too bright to comfortably watch; through the cracks in his body, the scars and the marks of a harsh life it seeped out, shining from within - a beacon in the darkness, and yet he did not even see it himself, his golden eyes open yet distant, staring at the dark horizon: weighing the possibilities, afraid of the answer, and yet his heart kept thundering with hope. ".. Ophelia?"

( :/ not sure whether or not I like this post, it feels as if it didn't quite turn out the way I wanted but I'm not sure if I can fix it either... )
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#16



Ophelia was sure that this stallion was invented by her mind to tantalize her senses and give her an opportunity that she would otherwise not have in reality. She was not the type to stare at well built males or be so openly buoyant with her thoughts, but here, in her dreams, she could be everything she was not and everything she wanted to be. However, some habits, traits so integral to her character, did not fade, even in her most wild fantasies. Emotions and feelings etched clearly and kindly on her features, words of comfort flowing freely from her mouth. An attempt to soothe a fear of being forgotten traveled as a promise, and she would never forget him, not now. Even in her own dreams, Ophelia was at the mercy of her memories, unable to forget details which most woke up not even knowing they dreamed. A promise to remember was a promise she could keep, in full. Moments after, she watched as his eyes turned to gold, though that hardly seemed a concern to the strange stallion.

Words from his lips drifted into her tulip ears like an after thought to what her eyes were seeing. The golden pool was being drained of its vibrance and beauty slowly but steadily, hardening from a liquid state into something hard and much less appealing. Golden eyes grew ever more bright and alive, though the lack of pupil gave him an ethereal look. Every ounce of beauty and awe the pool once possessed now resided in his orbs, and they glistened to strangely. She watched him with furrowed brows, concerned that he would change; Ophelia rather enjoyed his presence the way he was, and she was resistant to such change.

He gazed into the darkened distance of the cave, and she reluctantly tore her eyes away to try and explore what he was seeing. Nothing. Nothing was there, and yet he was speaking to the unknown "it" in an absent manner. Dual colored eyes snapped back to his figure, his voice murmuring in a delicate whisper, as if their entire world hung in the balance of this seemingly simple question. Monsters and the raging horror around them faded to dull hum in the background, focus on the stallion who was seeping a golden breath of life from scars on his body. The healed skin cracked open like a tender egg, shining into the darkness of the cave, but she wanted to seal those wounds, to let him keep the brightness to warm his soul. Ophelia was powerless, her figure only able to fall right through his despite her aching desire to press her lips to his scars and close the wounds.

As if hoping beyond a hope, the white mare moved forward, cloven hooves barely making a sound on the rocky floor. She stood as close to him as she dared, not wanting to ruin his solidity with her own reality. "I am dreaming of you," she murmured in reply, a sudden chill rattling against her fur. The white hairs along her body puffed, and she shivered. No cool breeze or bitter wind moved through the still cave; the sensation was coming from the other side. "I fell asleep against the side of a mountain in the Frostbreath Steppe, and I must be dreaming. Never have they been so real..." she hummed thoughtfully, attempting a comforting smile. "Why?" she asked curiously. "Are you real? Are you not conjured by my mind?" The question was almost humorous. He had to be invented by her thoughts, perhaps a resurrection of a forgotten memory. For this to be anything else...




COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#17
Torn between hearing her answer, and wishing for only silence, Mauja's gold-cast eyes kept staring out into the void beyond the glow of his soul. Even if she said that she did — how could it fit? Dreams lied to the mind all the time, and he had never before asked something he dreamed of if it dreamed of him.. perhaps because in some ways, dreams always knew these things. The dream knew that it was a dream, and thus, did not claim to have something to awaken to. That this particular dream would pretend to.. in such a confident manner... It was both absurd, and frightening. What if this was just a dream, but not his — but hers? What if he truly was dead, a specter come to haunt her mind? The thing which would be, perhaps, most kind to his worn mind and frayed heart would be for her to say, no, of course I am not dreaming of you — you're the one dreaming of me, silly. But life was like a pup with him between its teeth, tugging and worrying. Relentless, merciless, cruel. Of course it would not give him peace, or something else to soothe the stampede of hope and questions. Of course it would do nothing but fuel the fires.

"I am dreaming of you," she murmured to the golden beast, drawing nearer: again, the breath hitched in his throat, and his heart quaked, but at the same time, it filled him with sadness. If she had spoken louder, maybe it would've jolted him out of sleep, stranded him on that desolate steppe of snow and frost — but the lowness of her voice kept him anchored in the dream. Slowly, Mauja's head lowered, his moist eyes peering into the darkness. Subtly he tilted his head to one side, his silken, thick forelock falling across the eye nearest her, effectively masking the emotions leaking out from his pained gaze. She had fallen asleep in the Steppe, much like he, though if he was to believe her, she had done so in the real world, surrounded by all the individuals he knew and loved — but here, she didn't even exist. Paladin had killed Soleil or rejected her for one reason or another, and that was that. She and Onni were perhaps the ones he knew not whether to be glad or sad they didn't exist in his twisted world, but they were the ones whose lack of presence was the most noticeable.

"Why? Are you real? Are you not conjured by my mind?" A harsh, bitter bark of a laugh flew out of his mouth before he realized what he was doing. "Hah!" A mere heartbeat later a resounding boom rocked the world and the ghouls shrieked and howled, throwing themselves against the shield of his resolve. Taken aback, Mauja shied to the side, trying to avoid the sudden erosion of the ground near where he had stood — like a landslide it had just disappeared, with a slip of his confidence. Startled, he stared into the darkness, and only after a moment did he realize something: when he had sprung aside, the flat of his shoulder had connected with hers. They had not passed through. He had also learned another thing: if he doubted, the nightmare would consume them.

Slowly he turned his head to peer at her, and as he calmed down from the sudden shift in their world, the sadness in his golden eyes remained. "Ah, Ophelia.." He swallowed, not sure how to phrase his question, but it nagged at him — she knew him, she had seen him, touched him... And as a dream, it had been natural to accept that she knew him, the way she had asked him to remind her of their previous meeting nothing but the schemes of his mind to relive moments out of reach. But this.. this fell far beyond his understanding. "You should know me," he began in a quiet, melancholic voice. "I'm not sure if I am real anymore — but I once was... I once walked Helovia, I once led my people, aiming for prosperity but finding only ruin. And now... I fear I am dead. But if.. if you are real, if you have a world to wake to, you should know me." He was silent for a second, battling himself and his emotions. "But you don't." That much was obvious, from the innocence of her question.

Perhaps he was just talking to a twisted dream, after all.

Note to self: Sonata Arctica - The Vice, For The Sake of Revenge
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#18


Ophelia had thought that her assurance that he existed in her mind, that she was dreaming of him, would be a comfort, but he seemed to crave isolation just as strongly as she did. Gently, she watched as he lowered his neck and subtly tossed his forelock over his eyes. She was shielded from the emotion they held, though she had a difficult time judging his emotion with the gold filter without his hiding. As he gathered himself and his thoughts, she waited patiently, standing perfectly still, relaxed despite the howling monsters that surrounded them. Her focus was on one, and one only. Perhaps the depth of her attention was strange, but Ophelia had little concept of what was normal in social settings.

A harsh bitter laugh echoed through the cave like a gunshot, and she started, neck lifted and nostrils flared. The laugh was louder than expected and harshly rang against her tender ear drums. When the black spirits began to rage and howl, throwing themselves against the thin membrane holding them back, she flattened her tulip ears against her skull. Grey lips curled back from pale teeth, and she lowered her neck in an aggressive warning to the monsters that threatened their safety. Fear was not an emotion that she could feel to any normal extent; the important, parasympathetic response to leap, jump and run was gone, replaced with more space to remember.

A crumbling noise like an earthquake hit her senses, and she grunted softly as a warm shoulder collided with hers, her hooves sliding as traction was lost. Surprised, she tilted her ears forward ever so slightly, brows furrowed. Had the stallion touched her? Curiously, she arched her neck and peered around his side to see that the floor of the cave where he had once been standing was now a void, a hole with no end. Ophelia frowned, but the conundrum of being able to touch a figment of her imagination seemed more important. It was an unexplained oddity, and she was ever a curious being.

When he spoke, she closed her eyes tightly, the slamming of fists against the white wall in her mind almost painful. Something about his words seemed so familiar that they made her heart beat harder in her chest, and she winced before cracking her strange eyes open again. No distinct picture roused to mind; she was lost. Perhaps the sensation that she should remember was important? A clue? The expression on her face became one of sorrow, and she frowned. Her gazed averted from his, and she tightened her jaw to keep the emotions that had lead her to the Steppe from coming back.

"I cannot remember anything," she murmured honestly, not having to hide in her dreams. "I did not even know that I had a sister," she snorted bitterly, inhaling sharply. "Ktulu allowed me to look through her mind, but I could not bear to see my entire history through her eyes. I awoke one day nothing more than a child, an empty mind, and... happy." Ophelia remembered walking along the stone path, feeling lighter and unencumbered, but the world was unforgiving; it had found her, made her even more miserable than she had been in the first place. "Well, that emotion did not last long, not when I realized who I had injured. I cannot even remember what I wanted from the Sun God," Ophelia laughed harshly.

"Even then, the God of the Earth had to tell me that his brother had been the one to put this... block in my mind." She paused, glancing up at him for only a few seconds before turning her eyes to her hooves. "I am sorry for... resting my recent troubles here. But, I am sorry, if I do not remember you," she said, looking up at him with true regret in her features. "You will not be forgotten anymore." Mourning depressed her spirits, laying heavily upon her shoulders. She sighed, the breath coming out thickly white; she was cold.





COME TO ME
we run away forever from this misery

tangled-stock | Salsola stock




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#19
Heavy, broken-spirited eyes stared into the dark veil beyond the gold again, a weight upon his shoulders made too real by this breaking of the boundary between life and death. Never before had it so thoroughly crushed him, drowned him, constricted his chest until he could not force his lungs to expand with air. Regardless of whether or not this was a dream — he was not quite convinced she was real, as this, no matter which way you looked at it, was a dream — it was an acute reminder of what he had been forced to leave.. and something about the echoes of pain in her existence pulled at him. "I cannot remember anything," and he thought, what wouldn't I give to forget, so I can rest in peace? Was this how ghosts, haunting, felt? Was this what spurred them to anger — to eradicate every trace of the existences which kept them locked in limbo, unable to neither live nor die? But someplace inside he knew that he would not, could not, give up. As long as he existed, he would, one way or another, fight to come back.

But some days, it was more a struggle to stay alive than a struggle to find a way back.

"I awoke one day nothing more than a child, an empty mind, and... happy." And he woke every day an ancient, a mind full of memories — and distinctly unhappy. Still staring into the world beyond their bubble, aware of the warmth she now radiated, he listened to her story: asking something from the Sun God, losing her memory... He himself had never asked for anything, had always been given, somehow; if he had been asked to live without knowing who he was.. would he have accepted? Would he have done it, paid that price? And who would he have woken up as? Mauja was not cruel by nature, was not spiteful, hotheaded or even discourteous: if he did not have his past to guide him, the notion of unicorn arrogance rooted so deeply in his heart... who would he be? The thought frightened him more than it intrigued him, and he let it be. No point stirring another hornet's nest when he was still chased by the first.

"Don't worry," he murmured when she apologized; how could he blame her, when he was troubled too? When bitterness flowed so freely in his veins, mingled with his thick blood? "I just..." The whisper died in his throat, and instead he turned, watching how her breath pooled white into the air. Gold light from himself was cast upon her, creating a different glow from the scarlet; for a few seconds he just stared at her, his 'brows drawn together in sadness. She had always seemed different to him in life, as if her world was edged with melancholy, but there still had seemed to be some sort of joy in her... That she had been allowed to taste happiness, only to have it ruined, tarnished by her past even when she didn't remember it — it seemed unfair, that she was doomed to be weighed down like this at all times. Slowly he drew closer, aiming to touch his gray muzzle to hers, to stand closer to her, to offer her shelter, comfort, in the shadow and curve of his body. "I wish you could be happy again," he murmured, golden eyes blinking slowly, solemnly. "With, or without, your memories." When was the last time he had, in dreams or in reality, sought to comfort someone, not just because it fit the scheme of his politics, but because his heart wanted to? When was the last time he had cared for another other than his children?

I wish that I could make you happy.

"And I.." he whispered, closing his eyes against the tears which threatened to break free. So close, yet so far... "I just want to come back."

Note to self: Sonata Arctica - Caleb
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#20

OPHELIA & TINEK</style>
Heavens ablaze in our eyes, we're standing still in time
the blood on our hands is the wine, we offer a sacrifice
</style>



Ophelia did not know who she had been before on the inside, but from the pieces she had gathered, she knew now that asking to forget things was a poor idea. After waking up so blissfully happy to be rudely awakened by distraught faces, sorrowful expressions, and pitying comments was one of the worse fates she could imagine. All she was after leaving the veins was a naive, pure, and care-free soul, and now? She felt more broken than if she had all of her memories. What was torture was not knowing who was telling her the truth. Everything she had seen since the veins was permanently written in her perfect memories, so she knew that somewhere hidden, Ophelia had absolute truth. Trusting others at their word without corroboration or history was not only difficult, but nearly impossible after being burned by her lack of knowledge. All she could do was stumble through the shrapnel of her life and desperately fit them back together to reform the bomb shell that was her past.

What scared her the most is why she had accepted to the erasing of her memories. What dark secrets and horrors lay behind the white curtain of her mind? What darkness was she trying to hide?

Odd now, as she had to think of her past self as an unknown, another being who had resided in her body. Would they be the same? Was she the same being? Who was the girl whom all these creatures knew? She seemed to have made a positive impact, but why drown out the past? Nothing fit into place. Nothing worked. Ophelia was stuck between living a new life and the life of the other girl, trapped in the same body and unable to shake what other's remembered.

An entire half of spring had passed as she rediscovered herself, and she had no one. Everyone remembered the other Phi, not her. She had a stallion who could tell her about her past, a sister who seemed more angry than sad at her state, and a slew of other faces and names she just now had a chance to put together. A silver dragon followed her around singing songs of sorrow, and she could tell no one about what happened lest she put herself in danger. Ophelia had no one. The isolation, normally such a comfort, was now a prison. She did not choose to be remembered. She did not have a shoulder on which to lean, a heart on which to rest her thoughts, or a mind on which to whisper her troubles. And, while she would never want to burden another with the disaster that is her life, the fact that she was completely alone in a world who knew her as someone else was even more lonely than being alone.

As she hesitantly looked up into her dream-stallion's golden orbs, she furrowed her brows, awaiting the inevitable disappointment - the silent judgement at the fact that she had brought his on herself. But, no accusation fell upon her ears. Brows furrowed deeply in confusion when he told her not to worry. When he moved closer, his ashen muzzle nearly brushing against her own, she was surprised into inaction, confused. Was he not disappointed in her choices? Was he not angered by the fact that her inability to remember was her own damn fault? Ophelia blamed herself for the pain she had placed in other's hearts, but he did not?

The golden light was nearly as warm as the heat that moved off of his body, and she mused that she could now feel him as if he were real. What sort of magic was this? "I wish you could be happy again. With, or without, your memories." The sincerity in his golden orbs, etched upon the planes of his masculine face was undeniable. Could she allow herself to be weak? Could she show him how torn she felt? How alone? Could she use him for comfort, to ease the guilt and sorrow that she carried dutifully upon her heart? Would she be cheating the others she had hurt by allowing her own suffering to be eased? Could she be selfish? Would it be more selfish to deny his comfort? Something held her back, forced her to second guess her choices as if she had been hurt before; a remnant of a forgotten past?

Is any of this real?

Closing her eyes to calm the raging storm in her head, she pushed her own grey muzzle to his, breathing in the scent of his greeting and feeling the anxious thrum in her chest settle. She allowed her shoulder to rest against his, the warmth of his skin seeping into her cooler body. In his shadow, she hid from her own thoughts, white lashes resting on her cheek, and breathing quiet. A wall she had built to keep herself inside as well as others out was beginning to thin, and his words, spoken with thick emotion, echoed in her soul. Though Ophelia was neither particularly beautiful nor astoundingly strong, she was a loyal friend. "If I can do anything to bring you back, I will," she promised him quietly, slowly opening dual colored eyes that were almost frighteningly firm in their sincerity. "You have my word that I will not rest until you can be in my world again, and not just in my dreams."

Just as he had comforted her, she returned the gesture, lifting her muzzle in an effort to softly brush his spotted cheek. Her pain, shame and sadness was pushed aside in every attempt to aide those who needed her. Ophelia would have made a wonderful and poor healer; she would kill herself to help others. Perhaps she was fortunate that she had not chosen that path, but rather one of mental invisibility and knowledge. "You are kind to wish my happiness, but I accepted the erasing of my memories for a reason - only to be faced with a new sorrow. By some cruel fate or unknown sleight of mine against the gods, I am meant to live in this manner." A soft, sad smile crossed her lips, eyes open and kind, though always tainted with the burden of her choices. "You should not trouble yourself with the rain cloud that thunders in my wake." She ended her statement as an attempt at a joke, though the content was more depressing than humorous.




[OOC: Late and long winded Phi post O_____O so sorry! ]

BOOM | Horse | Background




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


Please tag me in every response!


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