| Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
wanda |
Confutatis
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The cowardly bitch did not even show her pretty little face, smoky like the gray dust on rocks; and Confutatis smirked, sooty lips peeling back in a feral grin, a baring of teeth more than smile. Once, twice more she called for the mother, screaming out her name like a wolf howling for the moon's love, and still no pegasus landed with wings fluttering and feathers flying. Snow fell, white flakes careening downwards, swifter and swifter, as the storm began it's moaning, loose dust swirling over the banks and drifts, hissing softly. The wind curled and twisted her mane, the mane the color of ashes and old stallions' beards, and her tail snapped in the brisk breeze like a flag in a tornado.
Down her head dropped, ears shifting back at the unpleasant sensation of the flakes stinging her face raw. Eyes squinting, half-shielded by charcoal lids, she sought out the shape of the young colt that she would raise as hers.
What had ignited this maternal side Lady Death was unsure of; she was malefic, baneful, half-mad and aggressive as a mother grizzly bear with her cubs. Yet she had been driven to return to the frigid north and seek out the child, the pegasus splattered with mud and soaked in white. Maybe it had been the quiet way he dealt with his screeching, hideous mother, who had been the one to loose him and yet still blamed him for being lost in the white. His relationship with her was so scarce, a thread waiting to break and drift away; like her own. After all, her mother had simply spurned her, chasing Confutatis away from her flank quickly with the uncaring bitterness of a crow pecking a wolf's ears, knowing the wolf will be unable to catch it.
The air burned her lungs as she inhaled, the air frigid. Darkness was obsolete as she trekked deeper into the icy north. Whatever was left of her shriveled heart twisted as she thought of her Kovoden alone. Idiot mother.
Still, there was something not quite right about the situation. How Confutatis already thought of Kovoden in a possessive manner. How her thoughts lingered over him. Her mind was fractured, cracked, not quite in the right shape. She wasn't mad, one might observe- she simply saw the world in a different way, the way a terrorist might.
Finally, her nose led her towards the vaguely familiar scent.
"Child, come underneath me." Confutatis croaks, turning her haunches to the wind, offering what little protection and warmth she can to the pegasus.
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@[Kovoden]
| Deceased |
| Colt :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: Newborn |
| paddeh |
07-27-2013, 02:12 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-27-2013, 08:01 PM by Kovoden.)
I can't get this memories out of my mind,
And some kind of Madness,
has started to evolve.
I heard them. The high pitched, annoying screeches that grated my attuned ears. They flatten against my neck, a snort escaping my quivering nares. The cold burned, though it was almost nice on it's way towards his lungs. It made his mind, his senses (well, except for sight obviously) more keen and alert. I stumble blindly against the storm towards the annoying beck and call of the one I had met here before, though I not know why. I felt drawn to her presence- it was different than mothers. There was something... different, though what did I know- I'm a foal.
I am unsure why I have refused to speak to mother (well, the one who carried me sounds better.) I can tell that she is not mature or responsible enough to be a mother- to take care of me. She didn't even know that I am blind (and I still don't know what that means myself, but I would have to have a mother to teach me that!) My baby teeth clench together in irritation as my thoughts turn bitter about the one who carried me.
My sensitive ears flick forward when I hear the crunch of hooves approaching me. The smile that fills my face is quickly replaced by shock at myself. Why was I smiling? At a, well, stranger? My nostrils flare as I take in the damp scent, legs ceasing to move. 'Child, come underneath me.' I can feel a slight change, a shield to the harsh fingers of biting wind as the mare stands at my side. I lean into her lightly, pulling in my fuzzy wings as my head bumps her stomach.
It is then I realize, that she was calling for mot- the one who carried me. And that this was my new mother. Hopefully. I already feel calmer in this mare's presence, I can tell she is not as reckless as the other one. She will not leave me as the other one so often did. "Your name?" My voice sounds strange to myself- my first words. They sound mature for my age, and a slightly air of smugness briefly fans over my features.
I like this new one already, I can tell we will get along.
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| Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
wanda |
Confutatis
|
He comes, small and white and pale. She inhales his scent hungrily, tasting it on her cracked charcoal lips, drinking it in and letting it warm the corners of her cold, stone heart. The snowstorm wages on, flakes of cream and silver settling onto her frozen charcoal coat, but she doesn't mind, not with the young one beneath her. For him, she will do anything. Change him, shape him, help him. So what if an ancient woman like herself is cracked in the cold, a statue splintering about the edges? He is safe and warm and delicate beneath her. The feathers of his wings tickle her belly, and she sneezes, a shiver wracking her thin body violently before she relaxes. This child will not freeze to death. For all those she has killed and murdered and slaughtered before without care, this is one life she will save, even when she skinned her own child formerly.
"I am Confutatis." She rumbles, her eye warm as sunbaked sand. "You are safe with me. And what would you like to be called? Pick a name for yourself, and choose carefully. It will be your burden to bear in the next years or your armor."
The wind howls louder, a desperate cry in her ears, pellets of ice stinging her face. There is something terrifying and eerie about being in the north alone; if she were younger, she could almost imagine that the ghost of a shape in the north was a bogeyman. No, not if she were younger. Only if she was an entirely different horse, unaware of the perils of the world and oblivious to the death and decay that haunted every step of one's journey. If she was not Confutatis, the mare fearless and hard-hearted, the mare with a blind eye and the fighter of countless battles, a winner of wars and a horse who had brought countries to their knees.
Would Kovoden follow in her footsteps, or would he fade away in the wind, unable to cope with the legacy she wished to leave behind in this barren world?
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[P] finishing up the sewing job [kovoden]
