the Rift


Lifeline [Myrddin]

Zikar-Sin Posts: 78
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8
M.E.
#1


....Did that hurt you...?




The ground was warm and vibrant with the growth of new grass and the quenching melts that flowed from the surrounding mountains, and yet Sin knew, outside of the safety of his one and only home, it was a veritable wasteland of ice and snow, even though Tallsun had settled nicely within its domain. It was as though the very earth was mirroring the quandaries of the warring conflicts within his brain-pan.

Sin was stuck. His life was a quagmire, and he was ankle deep within the stuff. Objectivity was Sin’s greatest gift and skill, and he could look at the world around him with a sound, reasoned eye and a fair conscience. He had never felt guilty or ashamed of his actions; he had never made a regrettable decision; he had never made an enemy that was justified in their hate for the dappled stallion; he had never wasted his love on someone who had no merit to their name and blood. He lived honorably in pursuit of the concrete facts of the world around him, so that he only made those honest mistakes that brought growth and transformations to an individual. He made sure to live his life according to those inalienable facts that he had found true to their purpose. He wanted to come correct and humble in his identity. He wanted to discover. He wanted to create. He wanted to live on in memory. He wanted to be.

Somehow…somehow the dappled stallion had ventured into a place that called neither for facts or sincerity. And he was totally wrong-footed.

Around and around his thoughts were spun in his mind, until they became a tangled knot that danced mischievously between each other and melted into an indistinguishable lump. Facts were useless in the realm Sin had stumbled upon; instead, this place called for opinions and the desires of one’s heart, and Sin had never encountered that before. He had passions just like any other creature, and he knew this—but he had never analyzed them before, because they were so straightforward most of the time. He was sure that he wanted to pursue the laws of the earth and to adhere to them, but he had never asked why. He had never needed to. Sin clenched his eyes tight as a wave of emotion rolled over him in in his state of turbulent reflection.

Tolio.

Just the thinking the name of that chestnut stallion sent rippling bubbles of anguish upwards to his throat, very nearly suffocating the Disciple. Anguish is used here for lack of a better term, because Sin didn’t truly know how he felt about Tolio. That was a lie, he knew damn well how he felt about him; it was the most pleasurable pain he had ever felt in his life, as though thousands of icy needles melted his heartstrings and turned his legs to quivering masses of gelatin whenever he saw the stallion. He always wanted to be there with him, having fun, splashing in the icy water. He must keep Tolio happy. But the scent of him was getting faint, and though Tolio had assured Sin that he was, indeed, a Basin unicorn, Sin had yet to see him in the confines of their home. He was getting antsy; he was desperate to see Tolio, and this desperation only exacerbated the pleasure-pain he was feeling for him. Was this love? And was it justified for Sin to love one like Tolio? He couldn’t forget the blasphemous things that were said about his Empress. They were treacherous and wrong, and yet they didn’t quell the flames for Tolio; in fact, they were thriving in spite of it. He had forgotten his disapproval in the moment, and even now, Sin didn’t want to remember his distaste. He wanted to love hate feel for Tolio without consequence, to be right in his affection. But he didn’t even know if his affection was right in the first place.

Mauja.

That blasted King of the Frost tied into Sin’s affection for Tolio as though they were the thorns of an opulent rose. Sin didn’t know how to feel about the return of the Frostheart, but he felt nonetheless—excited and reverent, scared and wary, spiteful and resistant. He was Tolio’s king and great in the words and eyes of that beautiful stud, and Sin believed him. He truly and wholeheartedly believed Mauja was great as a King and leader, and Sin was anxious to see it in life. What he was unsure of, however, was whether he could serve him, as he was loyal to the Empress. Psyche….the elusive Lady. He had only set eyes upon her once, and yet he served her dutifully and with an open heart. The appearance of Mauja only served to plunge Sin in the depths of insecurity, a place he hated and yet he now found himself. He served his Lady willfully, but was she the right one to serve? Was his allegiance faulty?

In the end, would it matter who he chose to serve?

Sin opened his eyes and found himself within the shadow of a sequestered grove of small, dark evergreens. The reason why he found himself here was apparent; Myrddin’s scent was all around this place. Sin sighed. Myrddin. Finally, someone who didn’t cause a thousand migraines to contemplate. He was…absolute. Though he may possess many different roads and opinions and trains of thought from Sin, they all equated to the same identity and the same intention. Myrddin wasn’t shrouded in the mists of vanity and indecisiveness that the rest of the world lived in. He guided Sin on his quest for further enlightenment, and for that Sin would always be loyal and faithful to him. That wasn’t a question or an emotion; it was fact. And it was this fact that Sin supposed he unconsciously found out the old stallion to futher illuminate his path. Sin wasn’t so arrogant to assume to know the correct path to tread. He wanted to learn, and he needed someone to teach him.

Sin lowered his head suddenly, giving a tired snort that shook his sides. He was weary of this headache. He wanted to be well again.


(OOC: First 1000 Word post. Sorry. :B )


...Forgive Me...




Myrddin Posts: 115
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 :: Old
Aud
#2
 Myrddin</style>
 


The stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth...



[I don’t think you said...so I’m going to assume it’s twilight/dusk :P]

Presently, the old philosopher was contemplating the stars.

How amazing and baffling, that one would wish upon such things. Did the God of the Sun find himself annoyed that the sun, the greatest star with relation to Helovia, was completely overlooked, for the multitude of others that twinkled far, far in the distance? Or perhaps it simply wasn't common knowledge that the sun was a star. Myrddin couldn't be sure - so much was lost in translation, or simply overlooked as unimportant in the teachings of the very young. It pained his heart and boiled his blood at the very thought of all of the half-truths and convenient tales that mothers and wise-one’s told the young of their herd; only perpetuating the cycle of misinformation until it grows so common that while we bask in the light of the sun, we forget to wish upon it, preferring the cold light of dying stars thousands of light years away.

In truth, the sun is the only star worth wishing on; it is the only one who can truly hear you. Raising his blind gaze to the night sky, envisioning in his expressive mind a vast atmosphere of twinkling lights, he smiled wistfully. It was like looking back in time - for by and large the majority of the light that one could see of the stars, was merely their brilliant and beautiful death rattles, as they overcame themselves and burst into the universe. Yet equines of all sorts wish upon their beautiful unearthly echoes as they stream across time to our eyes (for those fortunate enough to still have them). Lovers croon beneath them, children wish upon them, battles and assassinations are plotted and conducted under their cover; for everyone knows that the night holds all secrets. And why shouldn't it? Only ghosts are watching, for the only living star, the sun, has cast his eyes away.

”They wish on their dying breaths, Zikar-Sin” Myrddin said clearly, not moving his blind gaze from studying the heavens. Sin was quiet and still, yet having been one of the few that Myrddin had spent the most time with after his blinding, the old stag had grown accustomed to his scent. Turning, his gnarled horn outlined by the bright moonlight, Myrddin himself looked as though he could be a ghost. After joining the Basin he had put on a healthy amount of weight again, and no longer looked as emaciated and shrived as he once had. And, for the most part, his injuries had healed from all of his time spent stumbling about. His mane, tail, and beard had re-acquired their lustrous white sheen, and tumbled in wispy waves around his pale frame. Yet his eyes remained milky white and unseeing. Constantly he chastised himself for not having completed his quest for the Goddess, but in truth, he wasn’t so sure how he would return to her, given that the Veins were so very far away. He very much doubted that the God of the Spark would be willing to do him any favours, given how their last conversation had gone. Gruffly, Myrddin turned around to face where he assumed Sin was standing, his nostrils flaring slightly to inhale his scent.

”Do you think the stars wish for anything?” He mumbled rather ambiguously, casting a distracted and unhelpful gaze up into the night sky. Frowning, he shook his head slightly, as if agreeing with himself that they probably did not. Curiously, he turned his attention back to Sin with an elongated sigh. Had the young-ling sought him out, or had this meeting simply happened by ‘chance’. Of course, the aged philosopher didn't believe in chance, theorizing that everything in fact, was pre-determined. Still, if one thought of ‘chance’ as merely an epistemology uncertainty well....maybe that was valid. Frowning again, he wondered if this perhaps had to do with Mauja’s sudden arrival? The boy certainly did seem shaken up about the Frost-King’s return. Or perhaps it was simply the manner in which it was done. Or perhaps problems of the heart, or mind? "What is it, m'boy?" Myrddin inquired in his raspy-melodic tone, kindly.

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Zikar-Sin Posts: 78
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8
M.E.
#3


....Did that hurt you...?



The rumbling unease was subdued as Sin finally laid eyes upon his master; the Old One gazed up into the sky with unseeing eyes, his expression so peaceful and pensive that the inner turmoil in Sin’s breast ceased its relentless thrashing somewhat, comforted as he was by that familiar expression. In an unconscious motion to match Myrddin’s seemingly harmonious state, Sin followed his gaze to the heavens, allowing the glow of a million billion stars to flood his vision. The first thoughts that entered his mind were those associated with the frantic fear that was clawing away inside of him; mayhaps the stars themselves could relieve this pressure, could take the weight off of his shoulders, and could force the world make sense again. As he pondered the heavenly bodies, however, Sin knew deep down that it was a selfish, cowardly thought for one to place their troubles at the feet of divine entities, conscious or not. Yet the very act of contemplation began to unwind Sin, the tension unraveling somewhat in his limbs and allowing the dappled boy to take a breath, as though he had been running for miles without the slightest inclination of a break. He was catching up with his own emotions.

*”Do you think the stars wish for anything?”*

Sin closed his eyes, barring his sight from the creeping velvet night and the silvery glow of the stars. He thought about Myrddin’s question deeply, aware that they were talking about potentially lifeless things that had no thought or opinion about their own demise. It was easy to think about, however, because these thoughts, these musings didn’t affect him, didn’t have the power to destroy everything he cared about. Or thought he cared about. “If they did, sir,” Sin said carefully, his eyes still closed to the sky and his master’s pale face, “I would imagine they would desire to shine as brilliantly in life as they do in death.” Sin imagined what it would be like to have the same fate; to only be illustrious on your dying breath than you ever were in your youthful questing days, trying to make a name for yourself. To some, it would be a horrible fate, only becoming beautiful and successful as you passed on; knowing that the entirety of your life is worthless until you finally passed into the void. A counter-thought, however, sprang up almost immediately; did it have to be tragic? Knowing that, as you died, someone somewhere looked onto your stardust and placed all of their hopes dreams upon you, trusting you with the prospect of their happiness, placing their entire world into your hands? Sin sighed deeply, these and other thoughts roaring in his mind as his Haruspex spoke again.

*"What is it, m'boy?"*

Sin swallowed, suddenly embarrassed and dreading his confession. It was rare that the stud ever felt shame for anything, but the prospect of telling Myrddin all of his insecurities was distressing; would the Old One pass judgment on the dappled stallion, disappointed in Sin’s inability to surpass this hurdle? He didn’t allow his inhibitions stall him, however; Sin supposed that staying mute, ignorant, and confused was a worse fate than being verbose, humiliated, and enlightened. “Sir, I’m lost,” he said to the white one; Sin never masked the emotion he felt, not even in his voice, and now the shaky anxiety was evident on his trembling tones, “I’ve found myself in a place I’ve not been before, and I’m not sure how to handle myself.”

Sin paused, opening his icy eyes wide, his expression pleading to the Haruspex. “I—There’s another stallion of the Basin, a boy whose presence I’ve come to like,” Sin explained, trying to be as clear as possible, “yet he’s said awful things to me, blasphemous things about the Dark Empress. He is loyal to the Frost King, he told me. I’m not sure how I should feel about his loyalties—is he a traitor? Do I report him?” Sin was slightly breathless, but he forced himself to trudge on with his explanation. “Then…there’s the matter of the Frost King himself. He sounds like a grand stallion and I see many who are loyal to his majesty, but he was never my King. Am I to accept him? Would I be a traitor to my Dark Empress?” His voice threatened to crack. “Is she even worthy for me to serve? I’ve laid eyes upon her once in my lifetime, but I serve her willingly, almost blindly, when I know none of her and her identity. This is the only place I’ve come to call—and been allowed to call—my home. Is that enough for me to be a good servant? Is it even possible for me to be a good servant with such qualifications?”

He didn’t mean to ask these questions to the Haruspex, but they gushed out of him, everything threatening to burst inside of him finally falling from his lips. These were the things that bothered him, the events in his life that threatened to unravel all the good things that had become tied to him…but it didn’t feel like enough. Sin took a breath and opened his mouth to continue—but he didn’t know how or what else to say. There was still something warped in the world that set everything off-kilter, but now that he had emptied his mind and heart of those clattering things, the upset didn’t feel as obvious. “I….sir,” he finished, dipping his head with the indication that it was all he had to say.




...Forgive Me...




Myrddin Posts: 115
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 :: Old
Aud
#4
 Myrddin</style>
 


The stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth...




Listening.

It was all Myrddin had done recently; listening to the broken hearted, to the joyful and vengeful...and now to the lost. As young Sin admitted that he felt lost, in the back of Myr's mind, he could hear Chester, the odd pink would-be cat, quoting some gospel from another world, about what it means to be lost. Can you be lost, if you have no direction? Is being lost even such a bad thing? A small smile played upon his lips as he thought of Chester, wondering what had become of him. Zikar-Sin would likely find the almost-cat amusing, surely, and perhaps even more enlightening than Myrddin himself.

...another stallion...

Ah. So perhaps this was a love story after all. It had been quite some time since Myrddin had felt the stirrings of passion in his loins, but not so long ago that he forgot the feeling of compulsion which normally accompanied it. Vaguely, he recalled a stallion called...something lio....It had been so long ago, the memory was fuzzy in his mind, for the encounter had only been brief. Myr had been...talking a bath. Yes, that was it; taking a bath, which was interrupted by....Tolio!, that was his name, as well as a mare and her foal. Could that be who Sin was referring to?

Myrddin kept quiet as Sin continued to speak, bobbing his head at the appropriate places so that the youngster knew he was still listening - without maintaining eye contact, he assumed some might find it hard to gauge whether or not he was actually paying attention. As he finished, Myrddin paused waiting to see if any more would be said. The Philosopher knew from experience how hard it could be to dam a flood of emotion, once it had begun.

Tolio, Psyche, and Mauja...That's what this boiled down to; where did young Sin fit into this trio? Nibbling his lip, Myr considered the problem. Myrddin had never really considered his loyalties in this way before. He had pledged allegiance to the Frost King so long ago, back when he was leader of the Edge...And Psyche? She seemed a fairly capable ruler; some of her recruits seemed a little too keen at times, and some even turned out to be traitors but...ahh, such is life. With a heavy sigh, Myrddin cleared his throat, moving his bearded muzzle closer to where he believed Sin was, and exhaled softly. "Matters of the heart..." He began, pausing almost immediately, furrowing his wire-y brows together. "Are just that; pertaining to the heart. They bear no logical or rational relation to anything else, much less the alliances of your homeland...However, perhaps I can elucidate some of these issues for you...I swore allegiance to Mauja before the King lost his crown and was then lost in time, back when he ruled the Edge. I came to join the Basin out of respect for that agreement made between he and I. However, I stayed, not because of Psyche, or Mauja, but because of the gift granted to me by the patron of these lands. For you see, I was not recruited by Psyche, nor was it her decision to appoint me Haruspex. That decision game from the God of the Spark. So question not your allegiances or your duties, youngling. For you belong to me, and I am pleased with the progression of your studies. You are a scholar and a disciple, and need only remind yourself of that, should you feel that you have shirked your responsibilities."

Flicking his whispy tail against his hocks, he blinked a few times, as if trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. "I would hear more from you, m'boy, but would ask for a favour. I do believe it is time for the Goddess of the Moon to restore my sight..." He grumbled, with a mischievious smile playing upon his pale lips. "Walk your teacher to the veins, won't you?"


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Zikar-Sin Posts: 78
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8
M.E.
#5


....Did that hurt you...?



Icy eyes watched the ghostly Haruspex with apprehension within their crystalline depths; while Myrddin’s visage held all the trappings of contemplation, Sin was still somewhat embarrassed about his inability to process these things for himself. Did he not trust his own judgment?—perhaps not. Yet Myrddin didn’t seem disappointed or exasperated at all with Sin’s plight; indeed, the Old One, something Sin was relieved and pleased to see. Nevertheless, the dappled stallion was on tenterhooks waiting for the words that finally poured from the wrinkled, bearded maw:

*"Matters of the heart….are just that; pertaining to the heart. They bear no logical or rational relation to anything else, much less the alliances of your homeland...”*

Sin closed his eyes, listening as hard as he could at his Haruspex’s words. In this, he was of much of the same opinion—the very rational had already crossed his mind several times—and yet, every time he tried to tell himself this, his heart would grow sicker and even more painful, certain that he was wrong in some way. Hearing these words from his Haruspex was not only comforting, but actually seemed to do the trick; they penetrated some invisible barrier, some thin, transparent film or perhaps a pane of brittle glass that kept him from consoling himself. Now these words made sense. It was clarified that there wasn’t anything wrong with the dappled-one’s addled brain.

Sin kept quite however, and allowed the words that continued to spew forth from the Haruspex wash over Sin, letting them settle onto the void of his gaping mind and soothing every blister that festered and grew in his psyche. Then, however, the Haruspex said something that truly salved the wounds of Sin’s twisted heart:

*“…question not your allegiances or your duties, youngling. For you belong to me, and I am pleased with the progression of your studies. You are a scholar and a disciple, and need only remind yourself of that, should you feel that you have shirked your responsibilities."*

For some time now, Sin had lived within the vortex of unspoken, precarious tension that came with the return of the Frostheart; he lived with the ache of the pleasure pain in his heart for Tolio, and the confusion that came along with it whenever he considered the chestnut’s words and alliances. It was a vortex of emotion that Sin didn’t know how to feel and pain he didn’t know how to handle. It was a typhoon—no—a cyclone in the raging ocean that threatened to eat him with her salt and strip his bones and sanity of any life he had left. With Myrddin’s words, however, he was pulled from that cyclone, as though the Old One had lended a hand to that struggling Disciple and pulled him from the turbulent abyss. Sin opened his eyes abruptly, blinking rapidly at the sensation—the sensation of liberation. The vortex of confusion and hurt was still there, yes, but now that Sin had been pulled from it, it was no more than a laughable little thunderstorm, crackling in the horizon miles away from where the Haruspex and his Disciple stood. Sin had that very desire, to laugh in the face of the storm, such was his relief—but he contented himself to the slip of a few incredulous chuckles, his chest heaving with life-giving gasps of wonder and gratitude. The world had been shifted from his shoulders, the world was as certain as it had been, and he could breathe again.

“I…yes sir,” Sin said in low, reverent tones, dipping his head low in respect for his master—for he was well and truly Sin’s master. “Thank you, sir,” he added, the sincerity in his voice pure and uncensored.

“I do believe it is time for the Goddess of the Moon to restore my sight... Walk your teacher to the veins, won't you?"

Sin raised his head, regarding his master with interest and a faint sense of confusion. “The Veins, sir?” Sin asked, racking his brain for any prior knowledge to the location. Sin hadn’t heard much about the Veins in the past, although he remembered a few snippets he had heard here and there in passing; a place where mortals walked on liquid fire, to open their hearts to the golden souls of the Immortals that breathed life into them. His Haruspex wished to hold an audience with such beings? His curiosity was roused, surely—but Sin kept his counsel to himself, knowing his master would impart such knowledge to him if he deemed it necessary. In the meantime, however, his teacher needed him.

“Of course, sir,” Sin said, stepping forward to his master’s side, so that his shoulder was touching Myrddin’s wither. “It would be an honor to escort you there.”


(OOC: Sorry for the wait! D: )





...Forgive Me...




Myrddin Posts: 115
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 :: Old
Aud
#6
 Myrddin</style>
 


The stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth...



As the idea of once again having his sight rested upon his bony shoulders, Myrddin began to grow impatient with his impairment - more so than he ever had before. The emotions wafting from young Sin’s mind almost felt palpable to the older philosopher, and yet he was numb to them. The boy, so quiet and resolved, seemed to hold his emotions behind some screen - opaque enough that Myrddin knew of course something must be there, and yet it was utterly out of his reach. Was the boy soothed? Did he understand, that he was not Pysche nor Mauja’s, but his? That Myrddin was selected by divine intervention, and that to cast away one of his disciples would be akin to blasphemy? But he did not know, for he could not see.

The whole world could be a lie, and Myrddin felt as though he would be none the wiser. Was sight really so important? As the overwhelming urge of being visually suffocated grew within his chest, he believed that it was. It seemed to him, that there was something so fundamental for sighted-creatures about their sight, that they could easily fall into disillusionment when it was taken away.

As the boy offered up his words, the old Philosopher’s heart softened, for it did seem to be that his words had some sort of a calming effect. With a great sigh, Myrddin bobbed his bearded muzzle. The Veins, sir? Myr’s large moose-like ears moved forward to take in the boy’s inquisitive tones, before his pink muzzle spread in a smile. "Oh aye. The Goddess of the Moon and I brokered a deal so that I could regain my sight....and I do believe I have fulfilled by end of the bargain, however...." Nodding a head adorned with a gnarled and twisted horn inwards, towards the Basin, Myr frowned. “However I do not believe the patron of our lands would take too kindly on my calling his sister, using my mirror.”

As he felt young Sin’s shoulder brush against his tired body, Myrddin again sighed. He had never seen Sikar-Sin before. nor had he even so much as conjured up a mental image of him. He was a dark shade in his mental map, having a rough unicorn form, without any features, markings, or even coloration. What did the boy look like? Did Psyche look like? Was their home of slate and cold truly as Myrddin imagined it to be?

Would he like the things he saw?

Leaning his muzzle around to touch the stallion, who Myrddin now learned was slightly shorted than He, he nodded. ”Then let us go youngling...and we shall see...” He cracked a toothy grin at this play on words, as he let himself by led by Zikar-Sin.

[I’ll make us a thread in the Veins? :3]

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