wounded is the deer that leaps highest

wounded is the deer that leaps highest

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380

Deceased

Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE

RayoDeSoleil

#10

01-14-2013, 08:15 PM

And then there was nothing more to say.

She could not bring him home, could not give him salvation. Even if she could, then what? She could not give him herself - could she? And regardless, it was pointless to consider, for one could not bring home pieces of dreams. One could not turn a fragment of imagination into reality.

One moment, there was only darkness; the next, they were running. She was unaware of when she had begun to do so, did not remember having consciously decided to move. But she was running, charging into battle alongside her king. Was it a battle she recognized? In many ways, yes - the faces of the unicorns that she had come to call her own, some from the Edge, others new to the Basin, were familiar to her, and even amongst their enemies she caught glimpses of similarities. They neared collision, set on a course to destroy, and she noted one difference: the bodies so similar to those she had seen before held the eyes that haunted her, wild, gaunt, anguished.

Paladin, or her dream-projection of him, collided into her side; the wind was knocked from her lungs, and she stumbled to the side. Sloppy, she thought, then remembered that it was a dream. But then he was gone, and onward she charged. She had lost sight of Mauja, and she panicked, remembering the flames that had consumed him in the battle of the Edge. She had not protected him then; he had not needed her protection, but she would have given it willingly. Wouldn't she? Or was it only after she had lost him that she realized how much he had meant to her?

And could she admit it later, when she was awake?

She was frantic now; fighting ensued around her, and yet she did not engage any victims, any targets. Once, maybe, the blood-lust would have consumed her, but here, in this dream, it was imperative that she found him. And then, there he was; she caught sight of his pale frame, and a shadow descending from above. It opened its mouth, and she shouted - a peal of flame shot out, towards the FrostHeart. "Mauja!"

And then there was silence.

She had not been aware of closing her eyes, but she must have, for when she opened them, it was the dead of night. Soft, loamy soil depressed beneath her hooves, and the gentle sigh of the breeze caressed her sweat-soaked pelt. There was a pool of water nearby; she knew this without seeing it. So, too, did she know the trees existed, swaying in the midnight wind. She looked around - did he come with her? Was he here too?

In what may have been the strangest out-of-body experience she had ever had, she watched as the FrostHeart crossed the path before her. It would seem that he did not see her. She followed in silence, pausing at the edge of a secluded copse of trees. Before her stood herself, though a year or two younger, less wise, less... weak. Was it weakness? She didn't know anymore. She watched the pair converse, and she was dimly aware that it was a familiar tune; she was watching her memory. And if that were her dream-self and the dream-Mauja, then where was her Mauja?