“Mom! Mom, where are you?!” My voice called out. Rain pattered down on my black base as I galloped as fast as I could to find my mom. She left me! Just like my dad did when I was just born. I mean, I know I’m ugly, but why did she have to leave me? Even though my mom gave me a scar and called me ugly and called me worthless did not mean that I didn't love her. I know that she loved me too, somewhere in her dark heart.
Tears were pouring down from my black eyes as I scanned the deep forest. Lightning flashed in the distance as I whinnied out to my mom. Thunder rumbled, wiping out the sound of my shrilling whinny. Even though my whole body was drenched, my throat went dry. It cracked as I tried to call out to her again. My iron hooves struck the soggy ground, making dirt and mud fly onto my soft delicate body. Suddenly, I stopped. I realized that my mom had left me for a reason. Tears still streamed down my face as I began to figure out why she left me, alone in this cold and horrid world. I really was just a bother to the world. I did not belong here. I was ugly and worthless.
My frame stiffened as stopped in my tracks and silently cried. Just like my dad, my mom did not care about me. I was barely weaned and I ached to smell and taste the warm milk of my mother. How I wished I could hear her words, whether they were scolding or kind. I longed to feel her gentle lips touch my head and whisper to me, ‘I love you.’ That was rare when she did do that though. But on an occasion was better than never.
I could not get control of myself. The taste of salty drops mixed with the fresh water from the sky slowly advanced to my mouth. My eyes were wide with fear, my white pupils dilated. My silver and gold flecks looked dull in the grim fog and nimbus sky. I squinted, trying to look through the fog for my mom. Though I knew it was useless, I still tried.
Slaiter
Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.
-H.P. Lovecraft
In the shadows of the trees, hidden from eyes and ears by the gloom of the storm, the rolling booms of thunder, a story walks. But what kind of story? For surely nothing good ventures out in this weather, preferring to remain sheltered in castles, or huddled around the fire in a little wooden cottage. What creature lurks in the gloom, dances in the deadly elements, capers delightedly around the sodden corpse of a rabbit?
He is the ghoul. Can you picture him? No? Let me help you.
I'll start simply for you. First, think of a horse. Does this surprise you? It should not, for what other form should he hold? This is a realm of such creatures, after all. Now, add details. Make him tall, around sixteen hands, but somewhat slender. No, no, not like that, he's no Arabian. Perhaps you need more? Alright, I shall tell you his lineage, and maybe then you will understand. Take the stocky build of a Friesian, and subtly cross it with Thoroughbred features. Is that more clear? Yes, I think you have the basics now.
Let's add a bit more now. Carefully shade him in, as if he is a paper drawing and you have colored pencils. Take your deep yellow-gold, and fill in his neck, chest, and follow his body all the way down to his hindquarters. Yes, just like that. Now, the first half of his face, leaving his muzzle clear, and avoid a small patch around each eye. Why? Because I asked you too. Good, good, you've got it now. Exchange your pencil now for black and color the blank pieces you've left, the bits on his head and those stockings covering his legs. His mane will also need to be filled in black, as will the small beard, lower half of his leonine tail, the sharp spiraled horn and cloven hooves.
You didn't expect that, did you? Didn't think that something as pure as a unicorn could be twisted into a zombie? Silly reader.
Are you finished yet, you ask? Not quite. Take up a green pencil, no, not a bright spring green. There, that sickly olive one will do nicely, and lightly overlay all the golden parts. Once you finish that, lay a faint shadow of gray over that, not much, just the lightest strokes will do. I'll wait.
Done? I believe you are. Now, we will continue our story.
Return him to the previous scene, the forest in a mighty storm. He is playing, excited by the discovery of the rotting bunny, kicking up his heels and prancing in circles around the poor creature. But suddenly, he pauses, those ebony ears pricked in the direction of a distant cry, a lost child seeking its mother. Intrigued, he delicately picks up his macabre prize by a hind leg, and goes in search of the voice. She is not difficult to find, standing sadly in one place, gentle glints embedded deep in her hide. She is crying, and our ghoul hesitates, still obscured by fog, though the stench of his toy fills the air, as does the thick smell of the marsh he resides in(what is he doing here if he lives in a distant swamp? That is a tale for later. Now hush and let me finish).
He debates for a moment, you can see it in the way he shifts, the faint flicker of his tail as it slithers behind him. Perhaps he is feeling pity for the young girl, knowing what it is like to be cast away. Or maybe he is simply wondering about death. He is a monster, after all, and she is the babe abandoned in the woods. He is unpredictable like that, and knows he could take her with little effort.
Yet, when he does come forward, it is not in a deadly charge, but a cautious walk, and he drops the rabbit at her hooves, an offering of friendship. A gift to her, his version of a teddy bear or security blanket. Gruesome, yet oddly sweet.
And then he speaks, his voice the deep ringing of funeral bell. "Persephone," he calls her.(Is he Hades? Again, a tale for later. Focus on this one, please, for soon she will respond, and you wouldn't want to miss that, would you?)
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The filly stood there, her body was quivering with fear and coldness. Soft sobs still seemed to manage to escape her throat. Her throat felt dry and every time she would open her maw to call for her mom one last time, the sound just would not come out. Thunder clapped faintly and rain continued to patter down on the delicate foal. Desperate white pupils stared at the trees that were wrapped with mist, hoping that her mother would somehow appear out of nowhere. Though she would have probably yelled at poor Katria telling her it was her own fault for getting lost, the filly did not care. She just wanted to be standing by her side and rubbing up against her for warmth.
The scent of something might strange hit the girl’s nose. Then the sound of hooves hitting the ground cut through the air like a blade. A figure of a very tall horse came into the view of Katria. Her hopes rose as she immediately assumed it was her mom, but as the figure got closer, she realized that this was certainly not her mom. First of all, this horse was a male. Not only was he a male, but a unicorn. Her mom was most definitely not a unicorn, or a stallion. Fear climbed up her spine and caused her to take a step back, getting ready for whatever this strange male might do.
Something then happened that the filly did not think one would ever do to her. The large stallion then dropped something at her iron hooves. It was a rotting carcass of a rabbit. Her gaze fell upon it, observing. Though this was quite strange, Katria looked up at him with a look that was sweet. She took this as a gift of kindness, and as much as it was gross, it was sweet.
Persephone. He called her. Black ears that curved at the top flicker forwards, her solemn eyes meeting his black eyes. “H… hello Mister…. I… I am Katria… Wh… Who are you?” She asked, her voice quite, meek, and fearful. She could tell that the olive tinted steed was not here to hurt to cause any harm with her, or at least she hoped.
[[OMG…… I am SOOOOOOOO sorry for the huge wait and small reply. I have not had a computer to go on for the longest time. Also sorry about the change from first to third person, im just trying to figure this character out still.]]
"blah blah blah."
Look at me and tell me what you see. Is it something ugly?
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RooRooTables
Slaiter
Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.
-H.P. Lovecraft
She does not fear, does not condemn, but instead gazes at the beast before her with kindness, understanding the corpse to be a gift rather than threat. Pleased, his ears prick forward and he dances in place slightly, settling only when she speaks again. Katria, she corrects him, and he accepts the new name without comment. His mind, though childish, knows enough of mythology and stories to easily adapt, shifting his preconceived notions to fit reality. She may be Katria in this world, just as he is Slaiter, for names change easily enough, and the tale stays the same.
She wants to know his name though, and he hesitates, unsure how to answer. Should he tell her Hades, remain true to the legend, or will Slaiter suffice? Or maybe she wants something else, wants to know what others have called him. Ghoul, monster, abomination, zombie, wrong, twisted, killer, undead? He doesn't know the answer, doesn't know which one she wants. No one has ever asked him who he is, just his name. (Is there a difference? Of course there is. For a name may shape you, but it is not all of who you are. Just think of your name, and think of who you are. Different? Do you now understand?).
Finally, he offers his name, hesitantly, hoping his answer is the right one. "Slaiter," he murmurs, and this simple act will shape their entire story, molding it into something new, a tale he has never heard told, and so he will never know the right responses to lead to the happy ending. Nervous now, he again shifts, letting his hooves dance uneasily beneath his large frame. He supposes he could always try to follow a similar script, fall back to what he is familiar with, obey the rules of Hades and Persephone, but what if he can't snatch the girl away? And where is he to find pomegranate, so he can feed her six seeds and guarantee she must stay with him for two seasons? What if he does find one, only to learn she doesn't like pomegranate? Would something else work, an apple perhaps, or will the magic be lost?
No matter. He has made the choice already by telling her his name, and the tale will unfold however it wants to. (Why do you look to me now for answers? I cannot see the future, just the present, and you will have to wait to know what happens next.)
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(OOC: Don't worry about it, sometimes stuff happens. And I understand, I'm actually playing around with Slaiter's writing style too, so we can be experiment buddies :) )
Lakota the Poisoner Posts: 278
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.1hh :: 7 Years HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Aodaun :: Polar Bear :: Terrorize
Brit |
Chill is like the breath of death upon the nape of her neck, prickling her skin and playing shivers down her canvas like a ballad constructed by delicate bows across a cello's strings. There's something odd and beautiful about the caress of snow upon the earth, when the wind lies still. Let it not fool any, however, for in moments the bareness of the normally protective trees will mean your health, storms of ice and frost slinking in shadows to prey upon the innocents who are unprepared for such dark times. It draws the dark mistress from her home, a sapphire and ebony princess on an expanse of white and grey. Nostalgic, perhaps? In such weather she too had arrived, found by Rafe and Ktulu and led on to be enveloped by the Grey. Heart twinges, and the growing polar bear cub at her side whines softly into the sharp air in concern. He is unbothered by the frozen wasteland, while his disparagingly thin mistress is sure to find the season hard. Shushing him softly, the poisoner drifted as a silent shadow through the world, but the weather would not hold for long.
Snowclouds darken, thunder rolls ominously, and soon she and her child prince are caught in the snare of weather she had been musing over moments earlier. Audits pin into the depths of her mane, violet irises squinting into the sting of rain. It is too far to turn back towards home, for the land is large, and she knows she might as well finish her journey before doing so. It would be the same amount of time regardless. Together the cub and the vixen pressed on, just as silent as before. Enduring.
Silence, too, does not last for long. Crown rises sharply, bare face upturned and ears flickering like obsidian wings of a hummingbird, catching a cry that stirs an instinct in her that she has always been weak towards. A child, voice squeaky and scared, surely younger than a quarter of a year. Crashing through her barrels concern, the sweet faces of Roskuld, Ranjiri, Raeden, and Hotaru flashing in her memories. They are held so dear to her heart, and knowing the one in distress is frail as them and younger, blood runs faster and heart rate quickens. First her frozen hooves move tentatively, trying to find that sound again, and then she is jogging, running, nearly sprinting to try and find the lost lamb who cried so fearfully into the storm. Lakota had wanted foals of her own her entire life, been denied them while she watched her lover die, and if this tiny soul had been abandoned she would tear the world to shreds trying to find his or her parents in order to show them the fury of the killer inside her.
Slowing only when blurry forms meet her gaze, Lakota and Aodaun approached somewhat warily; large, crowned form stood quite near a tinily framed child swathed in moonless night and draped in part by colored pinprick stars. His voice is the one she hears first, though the torn wails for a mother's comfort shred her soul long after they've faded. Persephone, he titles her, when her lyrics have not given their true name. Dread settles in her belly strangely, recalling tales from prisoners and war victims, surrendered parties who had been forced into her herd. The name is not unfamiliar to her, but it was not something her original family had practiced or believed in. All she can recall is that Persephone was a child of beautiful weather, who had been stolen away and confined every year at winter's break by a horrible ruler of the underworld, whose name she couldn't recall. Had he spoken it, it would have triggered a memory like the previous name past his lips, but as they converse Slaiter is the only other he offers. A rabbit, slain, lay at the convex of their hooves, and she gave a shudder of disgust. Living with a half-wolf did not turn her nose, but a gift of such a thing to a child...but, the happy display of movement from the stallion is at odds with his macabre offerings and ominous gifting of name. It is here she approaches, favoring neither side and approaching instead as the tip of a triangle, gaze on the little one.
Ao is commanded to stay at her back heels, not wanting to alarm the little princess. Warm smile, so abnormal to any who knew her, soothed her face into beauty and elegance rarely used. Crown is lowered in offering, lowering herself to the filly's height so as to appear less threatening. "Hello princess, I'm Lakota, and this is Aodaun my companion." Ao bumbled forward, body wriggling in a canine fashion but knowing not to rush forth or come too close too soon. Eyes then flickered to Slaiter, head rising once more to greet him as well. "Salutations to you as well, Slaiter. Persephone...it is a name I have not heard in a long while. Do you fare well in this weather? Are you in need of shelter, even if temporarily?" Often Lakota was misunderstood, thought to be cold from the start, but she was an aristocrat and royalty at heart. Do you think her prestigious family would led the woman who would become Queen after their deaths be impolite and cruel upon first meeting? No. She may be in most situations, but foals touched her where she was kind and warm, and the childlike appearance of the stallion's visage only served to change her Threshold greeting further. Not that she'd been cruel towards Circe or Murdock either, so really you only got bit if you gave her something to aim for.
Swiveling to an angle where her words would touch both of them, she spoke over the raging of the wind without resorting to yelling, not wanting to scare them off or find her a threat. "This storm may last quite a while. Princess- Katria, if I heard right?- where is your mother? Father? Is there anyone I can take you to, or help you return to your home? You will freeze in this weather," she said softly, concern in her features. It lingered when she turned to Slaiter, wishing she could feel with more than the heart of a mother who had never been blessed with a foal. Addressing him now, she gently placed her words upon him, knowing what she would say was delicate of nature. "She's too young to stay warm. Would you be willing to shelter her between our sides, together? I am a healer, but I cannot take the chill of hypothermia as well as physical touch can." It would block the wind from either direction and offer body heat as well. Lakota thanked her nostalgia for bringing her there, hoping she could be of some use. Every name of every Foothills foal danced in her ears, their childish laughter and huffy advances so familiar. It made her ache to know someone would willingly abandon the one soul that loved them blindly and without reason, the one that relied on them so heavily they would wilt should attention be withdrawn.
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OOC: Hope you don't mind me hopping in? ^^; Kota needs to get about again, and nostalgia/momma instincts was a good starter for me. If you do I'll remove it <3
...also woah, haven't used this table in forever .___.
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WE ONLY EXIST IN TERMS OF THIS CONFLICT
In the zone where black and white clash
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Resurgere | Wroth
Katria saw the stallion hesitate. Did he not know his own name? What horse did not know his own name? The little girl glanced quickly at the rabbit corpse at her hooves before looking back up at the tan unicorn. Her thoughts pondered. She hoped that this stallion would make her feel better, and maybe even help her find her mother. No… That would be useless. Her mom would defiantly be far away by now, escaping the hell that she created. She could feel the fears fighting to escape from her black eyes, but yet not succeeding as she pushed harder and harder to make then not fall. A shiver climbed up her spine, though it was not from the frigid coldness or tumbling rain.
Finally, the steed said his name. Slaiter it was. It was a nice sounding name she thought. A small smile began to form on the filly’s soft black lips. “Slaiter. That is a cool name. Thank you for the present.” She said. She voice was loader this time, and not as shy. Suddenly, one ear switched back as the other shot forward as she listened to sound that lingered in the distance. The rain made it hard for the girl to pick up the scent, but that was not needed. Two figures formed out of the fog. One was a blue roan mare and other was a large white bear. A smile was on the mare’s face as she came over to filly and lowers her head to Katria’s height. Fear, again began to rise through her, until she spoke to her. This mare with the strange white bear had called her a princess! No one had ever called her that before. She recalled the stories that her mother told her. They were always about a beautiful princess trapped by an evil monster, and a handsome stallion would always come to her rescue and save her. But why would Katria be a princess?
The bear advanced forwards, his body wriggling, Katria gave a little happy snort before replying to the mare. “It is nice to meet you both, Lakota and Aodaun.” It was quite easy to get this little one to be happy, but she still was a little weary about these strangers. They all seemed a bit strange. But, who was Katria to judge? She did not know them the least bit, but she hoped that she could get to know them.
The blue roan mare spoke again, and the same rush of delight flew through her body as she called her Princess again. Lakota then asked Katria about her parents. The shivers were there again, creeping up her spine and filling her with discomfort. “My dad left a long time ago and my mom… Well, she…. I don’t know. I think she left me too. So, I guess you cannot take me to anyone.” Tears once again clawed at her eyes, but only a few managed to escape as she blinked to try to get them to disappear. The delicate fae looked up at all of them, white pupils glancing from Slaiter, to Lakota, to Aodaun, then to the dead rabbit on the soggy ground. She gazed back up again, eyes still flickering to the three figures in front of her.
[[Of course you can stay : ) Sorry again for the wait lol ]]
"blah blah blah."
Look at me and tell me what you see. Is it something ugly?
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