C e r i d w e n

Ceridwen brushed her velvet muzzle across the soft, grassy earth. Her forelock fell in front of her face, only parting where her two aquamarine horns jutted out of her forehead. She nickered softly in frustration, pulling her head up and shaking it furiously. Her long, light golden hair flew everywhere, strands of her shimmering locks getting hung on small twigs on the ground, getting pulled out of her head with a small tug. She was used to it by now, but sometimes her roots would throb after a long day of walking.

She sighed at this thought, then continued to walk through the Threshold she had found herself in. Many scents of horses were flung at her, but isn't that what she was looking for? A society to place herself in, a true home? Her home had been ruthless...

The tawny mare picked up the pace of her gait, pulling up into a trot. She tossed her hair so that it fell upon her back, so it didn't tug at the ground anymore. Her relief didn't last for long, her mane quickly slipped out of its hold. She was frustrated, tired, and felt a wave of nausea spread over her.

Ceridwen stopped in her tracks, raising her head in persistence. She wouldn't give up, she never had and never will. "Is anyone out there?" the mare called softly to the sky, closing her light green eyes.

The threshold. He had been coming here more often than not recently, and it was strange that he felt the need to recruit other horses. He remembered doing this for the Ex-Edge, and for the Plague. What had suddenly gotten into him that he wanted to do it for the Throat? He was always welcoming, and it seemed that was how he acted. Below his gentle and happy exterior however, there was a secret powerful storm raging. He was a whirlpool of emotions, and he still didn’t know where he life was going. What was it with him and making decisions? He always tried to do what was right, but it seemed that he was doomed to always choose wrong. It also seemed that he was doomed to do a lot of things. He was a failure, a thief, and a traitor. He hadn’t truly betrayed the Basin or Plague yet, for that was to still be decided. Or was it? Thoughts always did this to him, turning and turning him around until he grew sick. His own mind liked to play games with him, and he wondered if he even knew what was real in this world. It was so hard to diminish his own truths and lies from reality and fantasy. Had he created this world, just simply from his past? He doubted it. I was all too real, too bright, and too full of love and hatred intertwined. How could one world hold so much potential, then hold so much loss at the same time? He would never know the answer. He moved languidly, and then suddenly a voice was upon him. A mare stood before him, with horns on her head. They were curved in a way different than he had ever seen, but he was interested.
“Hello there sister, I am here. Welcome to Helovia. Can I take you to a home?”

"talk talk talk"
"think think think"

Follow the trail of blood…
You'll find me at the end.

C e r i d w e n

A stallion had approached the birdcatcher marked mare. She studied him quizzically, eyeing his sharp, red horn. It reminded her of blood. Ceridwen had become good at hiding her emotions, and portrayed no sign of distress or weariness upon meeting this new stallion.

"You want to take me to a home?" Ceridwen spoke, but her question was rhetorical. She moved towards the dappled stallion who had answered her quiet plea. Her movements were elegant and purposeful. Her soft green eyes searching his own, wicked looking red ones. "I had a home once. They weren't very nice to me," Ceridwen tore her gaze away from the stallion's, turning her head to look at a small red bird chirping away on a branch. Her horns illuminated the clearing they stood in, shining brilliantly as a ray of sunlight fell upon them.

"But I'm tired of being alone. So I'll come with you," the light tawny mare turned back to the stallion as the red bird flittered away, leaving no trace it was ever there. "My name is Ceridwen," her voice was whimsical, but filled with excitement at the thought of finally getting a new home.

Yet a hint of doubt crossed Ceridwen's mind at the thought of getting a home. Taliesin, oh her precious Taliesin, had been killed by who she had presumed to be her family. But family doesn't do that kind of stuff, nor do they drive you drive you out of your home.