|| You were always born a crime...!

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] The woes of a world without the sheltering of collectable grief could not beseech the selected loathing mixed venomously into the heart of Earth's laboring breath. Beating downward from upon highest perch as if in miniscule aspire that it would be cradled, carried, beyond the confines of its cell to deplore justice to superior heaven. Remember this, I will not be the one to save you from this worrisome fate simply to the fact that you did preserve mine. Turning ones back to you, riddled with scars, unhealed burns, unseen by humanity's genteel face. Certainly not! Why would I be the one to call myself a slave under the name of the Lord in vain? Dearest, flawless, little nightingale, sing to me, pale and perfect in your elaborate cage. All the things you will ever need, showered with adoration! Yet, blinded, you fail to see that those lovely, dainty, seamless wings are broken, shattered beyond repair! Frail and fragile just like a soul, one to be distorted to the liking of reality. Cherish these happiest moments, for never have I witnessed such a thing. An illusion brought upon yourself to sear and sever the scorn that is truly your bitter mask. I will not fall victim to your temptation any more. Mark me. Look upon me with fitful eyes, no need for these dying breaths. Servitude to bring this back, but what do I get? More pain to bring a chance. Revenge was always fruitless to the eyes who looked backward. Clouded they were. Clouded as well as too busy with the woe as me! Those tears of righteousness are gone! Shed faster than the pity that is in my soul. Pity on the world as it is engulfed by flame, just as this isle will be. Burning. The ones who turned away from me burning. I can smell the fire now, hungry for them as I watch. Save me, they cry. You must save us. I say no. I will not save you. What have we learned? All will burn in the purifying flame. And I, yes I, will feel nothing. Did they deserve it? We all deserve to die. Have our insides blackened and our faces scarred. Then maybe we will be so bold to see we have our own thoughts. A stroke of the ebony stilt was made, a motion otherwise lost by the vacancy of darkness that had befallen the stained plateaus. Movement arching with muscle defined. Sparking eyes swept low over the spines of cliffs' ridges, as if the backbone of mountain pass, impassively accepted as the dissatisfied flames hissed around the blacken hooves, hungrily scoring the ground below, though barren as it may be. The hellion worked the etched contours of his wonderless form, blowing feverantely ashen smoke from the ember nostrils as if to stretch predatorally. Lithe as a feline, the body moved forth, as if in crouch, ears flinted backward upon cranium as each new stroke of step brought a shower of heat. Orbs slit with almost lazed antic as the stallion made way through the night, more of a silhouette upon the landscape. Stranger.

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[L Y N X !]

I need a doctor, doctor..

It was such a horrible idea in mind to know that Stranger was gone. She had only known him for a short time, but their little moments at each others' deathbeds would always be something special to her. He had stayed by her side, and that little motion made the world. She had been told the grave news by a passing by raven. She had nearly choked on her own tears. Poor, dear innocent Stranger. He didn't deserve it, not what that horse did to him. But she could only hope he was happy now, where ever he was. It was better than being stuck in this insufferable world, where love existed in the fewest of places.


Maybe she was here to vent out her anger and sadness. But she knew in her heart she couldn't hurt anyone, even if she tried. They were innocent horses here in her eyes, though some may have done horrible deeds unknown. The only oddity, however, was that the place was deserted. Not a soul was gathered around the circle, no sounds of battlecry, just silence of a chilly springtime night. It gave her gut an uneasy feeling, but her facade remained completely impassive, a hard mask of cold indifference of the blood spilled inside the circle as she moved silently inside it, the clearing tainted silver in the moonlight. The stench of decay of the bodies dumped a few hundred feet from the circle, flicked away as if the owners of the bodies had no worth in their lives. Slaughtered in cold blood. But why? To what point?

A spark of flame, and the outline of smoke against the faint light in the sky. The Zuden's eyes narrowed to slits, fury and hate vibrating through her bodice. Her first thought that sprang to her mind, memories flashing to a wave of flames passing over her, the flash of many sets of teeth, agony.. An itch. An itch to rip away flesh from bone. Revenge for the scars that marred her form, for the many horses fallen under Aiden's reign. She hoped it was him, by himself, vulnerable without his shield of mindless slaves, ready to follow every wim of his eagerly like a bunch of trained mutts. Pathetic and weak.

"Why have you come here?" she demanded of the fleeting form as it moved its way across the plataeus surrounding the small areana, plagued by death. How dare one of they come here, dare to appear in her presence? Would they have come here to start a fight with one of the normals? An excuse to murder again? No, they didn't need an excuse. Murder murder, kill kill, without the slightest thought but they were different from them. They were all equine, there was no difference to them in their soul cores. How dare they think there was a difference, and because of that difference, that they were better? Aithne was ready to fight, to punish them for what they have done, and what they were going to do. Even if she were going to take on them by herself. Even if she had to stoop low enough to pick them all off, one by precious one.

ooc: :3
music: i need a doctor by eminem
character: Aithne

[/size]

to bring me back to l i f e..

[/right]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] The egregious escapade disgorging with contumacious dwellings amidst breathless wakings upheavaled by the restlessness of uneased mind. Expeditiously, the crown swiveled as paces ceased with instantaneous revival, obedient to the command reigned under. Astucious optics dilated as the silhouette presented itself to the fair grazed chance of outlined orb, a familiarity in the twisted form of equine's maw. Baring the teeth, long, jagged fangs protruding from behind the concealing glance of ebony maw, before a thought snapped itself firmly with resounding authority. 'You shall not be the one to inflict harm upon the innocent who are ignorant to the trailing plague you have suffered.' The moral realization came as startlement to himself, for these trivial notions should be abandoned with most haste. One could not be considered purified from the walls of purgatory when all have done something to merit them position for eternal damnation. There was something the hellion's own observations where passing through, and the stallion himself was not ignorant to the fact. The posture itself was suggesting Elemental, the stature mare. Yet the familiar essence should be easily shaken. Audios, more clarion than the luminous moon hanging as if suspended on high, drifted to cement themselves into the folds of mentality. A demand, was it not. Made by ignorance, unaware of the tormented rage flinting deep as sparks inside the stag? Voice, the hinting tones sent tremors racing feverishly upon pelting, though the mind would not yield forth any bearing memory recapturing such things. Should he make the adequate motion to reply? Muscles reworked themselves upon the exhale of drifting smoke, a distorted chuckle wafting away from the confines of his throat, icy daggers upon the perfect fabric that was the growing cloak of midnight. Movement was taken, extended yet lackadaisical in casual characteristic. The growing turmoil of ravenous sparks lapped with arcane longing upon his own pelting as the laissez-faire attitude dramatically shifted. Bequeathing the magnitude of scrutiny upon the frame upon his views, dare yet no reply uttered from the tattered remains of his throat. Why was there so much DejaVu to be had? 'Genteel fea, allow thee to indulge this so humorless a chore. Pray, what is the purpose of an aberrated spook upon the haunting of such a fine eve? For one will scarcely allow the work to taint my lips, for pray even in a whispered proverbial happening, Revenge is an inhuman word.' The tone used in comparison from the first to the last was scarcely let intact, though unperturbed by the usual plaguing of chokes to choke. Quite in nature, though deadly in repetition, almost as if words themselves edged in wires to be strangled in a timely submission. Flame-riding eyes peered through lids as if in wonderless sight to the beholding of sights. The Zuden, indeed, a standing silhouette, praying upon the conscious wonderings as well as wanderings of the frivolent mind, so eager to chase the unknown. That was cast aside, for this idle conversation could last a millennium with little the result for natures. Time might be to swift and able.

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[L Y N X !]

I need a doctor, doctor..

Pity on the world. Wallowing in it's own insufferable misery because of the demons that tainted it. Well she say, quiet! Everyone marked this world doomed, without e en giving it a chance or trying to save it themselves. No wonder many may suffer, because no one bothered to care. Why? False ignorance was everywhere, people choosing to be blindsightd to what goes on around them. Not until, karma be blamed, they found themselves in the same damned situation. Justice served, they would cry for pity. But they seldom deserved it! Horses on the isle were perfect examples of this. They lulled themselves into a sense of self security and ignored many others suffering under the fire lord's wrath. But what should happen to them when the security is shattered? Pity to the fool!


Upon closer inspection, the equine that had made his appearance was definantly not of Zuden decent, though it's appearance was difficult to place in the darness of the witching hour. Something gleamed in the faint light from the creature's crown, sending a bite of unease into her conscience. It found amusement in her words, and despite previous feelings, it bought back a hint of her fury. How dare she be mocked by a complete stranger! Had they no sense of manners? Shame their mother! Aithne's lips gave a slight curl. Perhaps they were a Zuden, for no over creature could wield the power of the flames. But the scent was feral, smelling of nothing but ash and perhaps something darker than it would let on. An unclaimed Zuden was almost unheard of. Wouldn't they have fallen into the temptation if power the dark herd was hoping to achieve? This thought puzzled the mare. Contemplating the thought, she had to assume it wasn't a Zuden, but something far worse.

The way of speaking was foreign, but the pitch of the voice indicated it was of a male. Something about it hinting familiarity, but was brushed away by the bendings of mind. Angry expression fades slight into one of more curiousity as her golden gaze continued to track the dark silhouette against a black velvety sky. "If revenge is so inhumane as you say, then how come so many act upon it? It's really such a sweet word, is it not? I quite favor it myself." Her voice lacked previous negativity, by now it held an air of light pointedness as she continued to gaze at the stranger. Little did she know how much of Stranger this equine was.

ooc: :3
music: i need a doctor by eminem
character: Aithne

[/size]

to bring me back to l i f e..

[/right]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] The spindled crevices that hearkened ruptured abysses as the bases for the world's ill-justified vindictiveness did inconsiderable minimal to farther hinder the progression of stabilized concession. Condonable saturninity that sparsely connected the, by all appearances, unsuited pair, was not broken as the stallion convulse into relapse upon the few words she spoke, wishing to find meaning, even where there was none to be had. Arcane blaze of recognition obsenated, a pulse, almost gesture to dead memories as restlessly the internal mindfulness stirred. On no account did these favored times of contemplation give way to fits of temperament, for the live oculars did not stray from the anatomical structure of the one stationed before him, as if she in herself portrayed a strand of consigned consequence. Exhaling airily, the hellion blatantly refused to acknowledge the sparks depicting the breeze, fleetingly highlighting the aura surrounding the silhouettes before dimming into nothingness. The way she herself portrayed opinionated comprehension to the word of revenge made Stranger, for that is who he still considered himself to be, linger for defining. For it in itself had but three meanings. 'Impartially for one to seek response, granted such repose, the definition is a withstanding example of perspective. For one, the act of justifiable punishment for the wrongdoing for harm down. For second, retaliation, in itself, for even grounds between two whom have wronged each other in their respected ways. Upon farther defining, a mere desire for the retaliation, to meditate such, with the desire to get even.' Contemplating this in itself, the equine took to the watching of stars, orbs glittering as if in little manner that the preaching was of such soft tones it reminded him of the normal collections of regular speakings easily spouted upon tongue. Returning the indifferent features to the mare, he continued, softer even than before. 'Whether in favor upon the ways of the word, the definition can lead one astray. Most equines, as well as other forms, seek out the temptation that is revenge for the hopes to right a wrong that has occurred, though it in itself will certainly bring their eternal damnation. Inhumane does not mean unattainable, or without conscious. For though one might seek the methods of redemption, most do not wish to ever achieve its marks, knowing full well their lives will be meaningless once the act is sealed. I, in myself, might have all the reason in these isles, feign the world, to carry out the act that will not redeem me, but make me feel as if I was not as worthless as I really was. In short, I let myself be killed, though bitterness still fuels me though one such as yourself hardly can grasp perpetual emotions for it is one of the things that must be taken in stride.'

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[L Y N X !]

I need a doctor, doctor..

There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and it was filled with people that were filled with shit! Furious thoughts flashed through the mare's mind. Her conscience made the connection between the voice of the present and the one in her memory, but she did not conciously recognize who the horse was. But something must have clicked, for now her mind had strayed toward Stranger. She would find the horses that murdered him - it wouldn't be hard at all! She could send ravens, ask all around, until they pinpointed who it was. And oh, how she would have her revenge then! It was a rare chance that Aithne actually talked to someone - usually it was all for plotting and alliances. It was nice, for once, to be with someone for friendship purposes rather than war. It seemed as if that was all her life was about - war, death, and destruction. It was getting quite tiring to deal with it all. But he had brought a sweet release, even just for a moment. But someone had dared take her friend from her? Outragous! It took all the mare could to keep her expressions under control, borderline consorting between grief and fury. She would avenge him, she was sure of it.

Aithne gave the slightest jerk as the stallion began to speak again, her attention snapping back to the peculiar creature, her golden eyes lifting to the dark silouhette against the midnight sky. He certainly was quite different, in the way of speaking and quite possibly, the way of thinking. But this isle was full of foreign horses from many different places, but she hadn't run into a horse like him any time before. She nodded her head lightly in his direction as he spoke in aknowledgement, not quite sure what to say in response. She watched him as his gaze strayed to the stars, and she couldn't help but admire them herself, eyes briefly sparkling in their faint light. Her attention only drew back to the stallion again when his voice filled the air once more, and her ears pricked . He certainly had a lot to say for himself.

"No matter whether revenge is a sin or not, I think it can outweigh whatever consequences anyone may face in the end. I know for sure that I'm going to hell, no doubt about that - there's so much I'm planning to do, I don't think Hell will have trouble in excepting me. But tell me, how are you alive now if you supposibly were killed? Thats the one thing that doesn't make much sense to me. So if you would kindly elaborate for me, I think it would be easier for me to understand."


ooc: SWEENEY TODD WOO!
music: i need a doctor by eminem
character: Aithne

[/size]

to bring me back to l i f e..

[/right]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] The enigmatical convenances bracing encumbered mind-set deviated with straying tendencies to graceless wonders of current thoughts. Not under any conditions had the hellion, in the present state of life or the last been a subject to such overbearing methods of speech before. Exhaling ember breath with the exalting pretense of listening to audios, question presented in barest terms for endeavoring civility. Slightly, a movement untraceable by most prying eyes, petal flicked as the flawless expression quivered, train of thought jolting for a brief convulsion before all smoothed into faultless perfection once more. Contemplating words needed to bring what adequate amount of justice needed, it was something of pure arcane interest for the brute to even meditate upon such things. How does one begin to explain to another? This mare was a familiar essence, her aura tangibly reaching out to a point buried, though the stallion himself was unsure if he in himself wished to visit, or revisit, such a happening. Stranger knew better than most about the nature of the past. 'In a time before this present, you could say that I was always in expectation for my day of reckoning. Death played host to my mind, for I was never without the thought of it. Despite this knowing, if you will, the manner of my departure was far less than what was considered justifiable. Murder, one familiar with such a word might choose to speak. Though I dare say I might have brought it upon myself, for it was I who made the leap to destiny when I decided to step between two whom where warring, spiteful revenge brought me back. Or so it would seem, for now I am more than an equine, or less, depending on the views. Though I was taught one cannot change their past, I wish to clear the way for a future that is already shrouded and broken. Death does not seem the end for me.' The depth of fathomless orbs soaked inrapturously toward the bottomless chasm that served suite as heavens. Watching the wonders of this dismil place, one might be brough to the method of thinking to be a higher power. Yet, the returned equine knew that this was all a false sense of hope. For in the workings of the universe, all was far too cruel to be sanctioned to merciful god. With almost slow anticipation, the midnight stag turned to the mare, lingering upon what little he could see but what he knew what was there. A feeling of revenge showered upon him, something so strong and pungent it almost made him rethink the course of his own. Poison, it was poisoning the soul it sat upon, tainting it with no regard to what the reasons behind may be. A flash, a spark, closely resembling flickering, brought forth something close to grasping. A face, a name, in a different time, different place, worlds apart from this one. Where was the face? The name? There was something there that was unreachable, no matter how hard he pulled toward it. A barrier, uncrossable, just as the sea to a wingless bird. Details, so many details, but the failure to see what they made up. A perfectly elaborate picture too close to the silverline screen to see what the purpose may be. Burning with no ashes that reached to the night sky, he stood, with no purpose. Lost in an ocean of tears and lies. Shiminege was drowing.

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[L Y N X !]

I need a doctor, doctor..

Collective thoughts raced through the mare's mind, circling around one basic thought, one word; revenge. And as they say, revenge was a dish best served cold. Now that you may think about it, she was never really treated nicely by the Züden herd, even when she was loyal as she could be. There was a mare she absolutely loathed then, but it was such a long time ago that her name and face had slipped from her mind. But the hate still remained, only doused by the fact that the mare had long since died. And gradually, the looks of mutual unity of cause faded, and wore into distrust. But why? She had done nothing, nothing at all! Why had they come to hate her at all? But then, Aiden's presented the objective of spying on the herds. By that time she was already wallowing in her confusion between what their breed was expected to do, and what was actually the right thing to do. He had caught her in a vulnerable state, and pushed her over the edge. Now, that hardly seemed fair at all. At that moment, he had decided her fate. It was all Aiden's fault.

Now, it was all a matter of how she could extract her revenge on those horses that had done her wrong, had ruined her life and forced her onto this path. How come she couldn't have a normal life? Though normal was ordinary and boring, she would much prefer it over this. But what could she do about it? She was condemned to this now, without a choice. She must fight, to defend the ones that wouldn't stand a chance. But could she do it alone? No. She would have to gather forces and allies who were willing to fight, and preferably, to the death. It was the only way necissary to assure the safety of the island. Unless they submitted? No. The decendants of those bloodsuckers might try and get smart and cause problems in the future. The only reasonable solution was to try and kill them all.

The mare's eyes suddenly lit up in interest as the stallion began to speak, ears pricking to catch every word that drifted over the distance between them. When the words finally stopped, Aithne's golden eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed into the dark eyes of the stallion's own. Strange, how familiar this horse sounded. But could it be? It seemed impossible, but the number of horses being taken up by the devil to return the isle was growing at an alarming rate. So could this horse be her lost friend Stranger? Aithne kept her face impassive as she gazed up at the stallion, nodding her head once. "Well, I'm dearly sorry for you, sir. I can only hope you can find..closure, if you will. I'll admit brute, you've caught my attention. Now, would you mind telling me your name? I'm called Aithne, myself."

ooc: lmao scary revenge is scarryyy xD Ruun.
music: i need a doctor by eminem
character: Aithne

[/size]

to bring me back to l i f e..

[/right]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] A reigning shower of haematocryal practicality immersed the hellion in absorbation of prosaic enlightenment upon a singular calling conferred. Aithne. The unequivocal arrant ways of preposterousness the could only but lead to the forgetting of this mare only served suite to drag him farther beyond the righteous walls of self-loathing. Faltering, the thinly etched lines marveled of composure to the extent of very features twitched as sparking orbs dimmed in dull aprehension, allowing for frantically woven strands of memory to enclose upon himself. This fea before him he knew, not well, but knew. Pray, Stranger would never forget. Yet, there the stallion stood without the pretense of idle motion, uncomposed in the flickering waning light from twilight above. Lost. The world was breathing upon his back, but that still was not enough to touch the internal damnation he had sealed himself to. To play the part of the fool in the script of one's own play was a marvel beyond understanding, brought to enlightenment upon the moment at hand. There was no reaction to bide the time with, meaningless was each individual dividable moment sweeping past their stance. Yet nothing touched the core of blackness that had embraced them, changed them. Were they even the same? Feigning innocence? But, the stallion was getting ahead of himself more so than usual, the fight with conscious nearly lost for a fraction of momentous occasion. The Zuden before him would not know who he was, for that form he had occupied served a minuet, fruitless existence unworthy of mention in the grand scheme of things. Aithne would indeed not recall the starving being she herself saved, for there was little to recall other than pain. Though pain was an emotion noted for remembrance, this form of the fraction was not only easily dismissed, but also erased. The insufferable never lived long. Mustering all the sanctioned fragmented shards of reckoning embedded beneath the splintering hide, a breech was sharply compacted, though turmoil still raged underneath, save from the prying eyes of the isles. Ribs dare not to collapse, for the pretense of idle breath was not needed, stillness basking upon the enclosure premeditated into the confines of embracing shade. Words, meaningless as all was when movement carried, formed as the edges dug deep within his throat. Dare he utter what was burning holes? Better yet, the question begged, what was his calling. He had died an equine serving many a name, but when brought back was one entitled to such ties with the damned whom were ignorant of their fate? Nay. 'I have had many a name in the days when I harbored breath, and I suppose I shall share the one most commonly uttered. Once, as I shall be now, The Stranger of Our Holocaust.' There had not been a more perfect portraying of truth than the moment spanning the breathless errand. Deafeningly silent, the white noise filled the channels of his ears as the stag himself blocked many a thought upon the day in which this moment was leaning toward. Never before had Shiminege depicted the tales of fabricated life's journey upon the mere role of spectator, the switching of roles arcane in moment's sense in natures. Yet, the hellion leaned away from such thoughts, for the present was the pathway he himself had chosen, for the doors of death shall evermore shun him until the task was complete. After that, the eternal fires that came with the plaguing plateaus of Hades awaited for endless soul's wander, for the light of day already burned upon his closed lids, though the night above still reigned. Hollow, without the pretense of feeling not a matter of how much Stranger sought the feeling that all was still there. Never again would the horror's of ashen cruelty keep him away from all. Though to meditate, it was almost a flip of choice, what was needed for survival. He himself had never but asked to live, never a word uttered for his own sake. For he now had died in the very same way, asking for the refuge of two warring souls. Revenge was the meaning of his life now, for the wronged shall seek what little justice they may justify in themselves. However the aching feeling of idle wrongness churned, but never fully awakened as he stared into Aithne with the reminder of his bottomless orbs, gone but not forfeit in death. What was left to see?

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[L Y N X !]

I need a doctor, doctor..

There was a hell, she had seen it. Not stepped inside, but she had caught a glimpse of the wrought-iron gates, lined with burning skulls on stakes. Or had it perhaps of been her imagination? The thought of Hell had no true form, lingering in different ideas and shapes in different minds' eyes, playing against their darkest horrific fantasies. But she had met face to face with hell's spawn, which were the Zuden themselves. But wouldn't that make her a demon, too? She wasn't innocent herself - she had done terrible deeds that even now she has ashamed to admit, surpressed to the farthest point of her mind, all but smothered away. But it still lingered no matter what she did, and she would have to live with it for the rest of her life. Perhaps it was just a reminder of her sins, that she would have to repent and pay for later. But for now, it was just painful memories.

Her dawning suspisions that she previously concieved were quickly confermed as he spoke, a highlight of a word that was similar to one brought up in a conversation in what seemed like a long time ago. Stranger. Golden eyes swept across his features, searching for some form of familarity, anything that would indicate that he really was Stranger. Their fates were similar, and the evidence was infront of her. He was back, but in only one sense. He obviously wasn't the same horse she had taken a liking to upon her deathbed, and shared a few spare moments afterwards grazing with. The mare looked on with uncertainty, her head shaking slowly. "Impossible.." she muttered softly, but suppose those words were untrue. Nothing was impossible.

So he had come back for revenge, was it? Many a soul had been caught up in that sort of thing, herself included, and sometimes would leave them searching for it, long past when their bodies had perished.

unfinished
ooc: xx
music: i need a doctor by eminem
character: Aithne

[/size]

to bring me back to l i f e..

[/right]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] Through the enticing yet otherwise entirely incomprehensible wanderings of the dramatic and otherwise unworthy mention of fate, the twisted natures shifted to allow a beam of light to penetrate the distorted shade muttering from nightfall into an outlandish perception of nightmares. The demon brought forth by the fallen natures of revenge stared at the mare's uttering of a single word as though he himself could not comprehend the magnitude of the situation. Memories, however fondly referred to, had no station in this form, for the bending of the world was taken for the form of a grain of salt, rubbing into the wound opened as though he could simply take his heart out and deposit it at her hooves, across the stretch of lands to serve as a reminder for the time they had shared. Was there a connection that snared his mind, bound their souls for he was the one whom had called her back from the land of the dead? Death had given himself the kiss, drawing from him all that made him who he had once been. This had been the thought of the hellion, for now he had transformed into something horribly twisted, a soul blacker than night. Yet still it pained him to see the mare. Where were the memories of unclouded souls, the starless heavens that once shined upon her? Those golden eyes hinting with the tethering sparks of revenge, a ravaging form that would also claim him in the end. Impossibility, the bringer of decay salvaged from more than a corpse, to stand again as a hellish figure, summoned from the nightmares of more than foals as he walked the valley of his death, sending himself to the mission in which waited so eagerly for his return. He could already smell the decay of their flesh as maggots ate out what made him who he now was. Was this his own faultless demise. 'Aithne...' He breathed her name as though it was the only thing there was to say, a pang shot deep into the depths of his chasmed heart. Pain, there was so much pain in the single word, as though it was he who had died by her side, though this is what he would rather have it had as. Instead the pitiless stallion had died an emaciated wreck, wishing to stop of the fight of those who in turn took his own in exchange. He wanted to tell her so much, but there was a change in her as well that made him wonder where they were. Who where they standing in front of the other? So different form the innocence once claimed in order to seek the other. 'Can you even bear to see me?' The words left his lips in almost an exhale, though a pained groan would have normally followed. Through life it was easier to speak now, though his tongue held fast as though words would have no power. Shiminege wished not to dwell upon what the past had never but offered, the pain of a life filled with a world of death that he was now so apart of. The tales of massacre, the wondering why he still lived amongst the wreckage of a wronged chaos. Then when he breathed his last breath it was more than a final statement, yet on he lived once more without the beating of a heart in his check. Sparks danced from his nostrils as they did behind the flaming pools of his ember eyes, staring at the fea who was from the scattered memories of life. The only thing that stood for a happy day for rememberance. How did it hold when it all came crumbling back done? What did the dearest one of Aithne see in this beast he had transformed himself into? The poisoning prospect of a fruitless revenge boiling acidic hatred inside the confines of his patchwork flesh. The sparks of fire inside his body, the curving of the horns from his head to offer sympathy with the devil whom had so cleanly sealed his fate. The smothering golden flames of her eyes, what he would give to see their own fate, the catching motives for the last of his dying breaths. With all the blackness in our souls, how could either be so blind to see something good in the other? Was there any feeling other than the flames of darkened spite burning holes in the corners of our stomachs? So much was left unsettled by the death of one so unneeded by this world, a fate resigned as another lived with the breath stolen from his chest. What was the tales of woes that the Zuden had suffered? What were the stories behind those scars on her beautiful face? Beauty was the devil's own charm, as it showed on the world, a curse forever as Stranger stood with his eyes on the hearts. Blood could give him freedom, the leeching straight from the skin, but this mare was anchoring him downward, stretching forth with sin. Where are we to go now, my dear?

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[L Y N X !]

It was like searching for answers she knew all along. Pointless. Pointless to believe that the stallion in front of her was the same as he was before. Fragile, silent, but caring. She didn't know who this creature was now, but somewhere behind the stranger, was the stranger. How could so much change in such a small expanse of time? It was a bitter taste of losing everything she held so dear, just vanishing in the blink of an eye, or a clip of a movie frame. There one second, gone the next. But where had it gone? Where did all lost things go? She had lost Stranger, and yet now he had returned, standing in front of her, illuminated in the moonlight. It was painful to imagine that he had been gone, when it was so clear she couldn't face the dark without him, and he had brought her back to life. But what did he possess in him to give her a reason to live? She often contemplated on that subject, always a trivial question that she hadn't yet found the answer to. How could a stranger make her resist against the soft, sweet release of the darkness?

Her golden eyes softened as she looked upon the hellion, her name like a switch coming from his lips. Her ears turned forward, waiting, listening for any other sound of his voice. But none came afterword, so they relaxed upon her crest once more. It was hopeless to think that her friend could ever be the same, so why was she even trying. But the way he said her name had to be something, a recollection of memories long since buried a while ago. Her attention was caught again as he spoke once more, and she felt a sudden sadness as she listened to his words. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her tail flicking lightly along her hindquarters. "I..I admit its hard, when I've gone for a while thinking you were dead and..then here you are. How is it possible.?"

[/size]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] The vacancy of fleshing towards the emotions so laid as the neglected spirits of the wronged, so sought by the trials they suffer, brought together by the wishes that they block in order to continue to survive. When the last chime calls forth the release of labored breath, the kiss of the reaper towards those who do not wish to depart, even so in their afterlife may they choose to continue on with their misery. The game of life so ended only then to continue with the wish of eternity, as always lay protected beyond heaven's holy gates, mirages for the wronged and miserable whom shall forever walk through the worlds without the neglected excuse for the rhyme or reason towards actions that harbor no consequence. This mare who stood before him was tempting more than just the use of an neverending goblet of time, for she was stirring what was once felt beneath the surface of the painful existence he once felt, the sharpest edges still digging into the corners of his flesh as though they were the newest of wounds, ground into the exposed pelt by a single sentence. Meanings outside of themselves, the emotions as though churned from the bottom of a mixing pot, unearthed to be sorted from that which once lay claim above to the space. How could one sort such a thing they have never tangible felt from all which they had ever known. Deepest down when filled with misery, each feeling that once was known in the best of time is buried in the downward spiral of each thing that came after. The sparkless lives witness through countless days, the horrible ravaging avengers who lay service to their crime, yet we so long to be what they are. How can we expect to become what we once where when thou has severed the times and sold those emotions, memories, tangible things that once services us for our rights. Wrong, the stacked odds of wrongs to give an explanation. How can you explain what was never supposed to be uttered? Never before and never again lay wait for those feelings, those unreachable words to be uttered. For time in death has swallowed all to never be learned again, giving more than just the illusion of a blank slate and free mind, tethering instead to the last thought that now rings forever in your vacant head. Shimenege arched his powerful neck, craning in bent fashion his mighty head, exposing fully the horns to her by no means of his own device. He was to answer, as he could not help but do, a voice inside more than plea. 'By my own right I thought forever that I had been born soley to them die. With the visions that were forced in my head, who could have ever thought different. In my death I paid for the sins of my brethren that I was not to commit. Yet I was given a choice, the voice in my head beseech my thoughts gave me a choice to live again. To avenge what was not to be taken from me. When I died, the silence commended me, sealed with me a different fate...and I was reborn. Born again as a hellion, turning my back against what I had known...' There was heartbeat pause, the spanning chasm of silence that washed over the scene as though they were apart of the grandest of funeral procession. The demented stag raised his head once more, peering through his flame-filled orbs at the fea who had once given him a reason. There was no time for him to waste this moment, the rapturous of attention before she chose once more to leave him to the splendors of the crows. The cold melody of voice drifted once more through the white noise. 'For the fleeting moment you presented yourself to me in my life there was a meaning to my continued survival. I wanted to live for the first time since my mother parted from this world from the kiss of death. When we parted ways, I wished I had told you what I knew about you when I spirited you back from the dead. I loved you. With every fabric of my meaningless soul, I loved you. It was more than the fact that you served as a pathway to being saved myself, and I could never have told you before all of this, and now it is all of as little worth as dust. Look at us, what have we become? Yet looking back, what where we then? Could you have loved me, Aithne? No. I lived just as I have died, passing through without a scar on this earth. We knew each other at a glance, yet even after my death I feel the stirring within me. I have sold my soul, haven't I? Then how dare I feel sorry, how dare I feel pain...why do I...still think I love you....' The Stranger of Our Holocaust felt exactly as he had the moments before he parted from this world and passed on into the next. The hatred and malice that had blackened his soul still tainted the poisoning of his blood, yet there was the same desperation, the yearning for something he could never have in such an imperfect world, there was just as much faithlessness yet that little spark of hope. She was the mirror through into what he was, yet still all he had now was his voice, this body, and as something little more than the cunning and wit of a devil, he was out for the simplest trials of revenge. The thoughts of blood, the thoughts of the killing, the memories of all those burning bodies, alive. They churned under his skin, as if this one chance to get even was the only one that could bring back all those people, horses, to save the world from itself. Stranger was a fool to think such a thing, and here was the only horse whom he had ever loved standing before him in solitary fashion, unbelieving, unspeaking, and truly unknowing of the sinking of emotion he was digging himself into. A proclamation, more so of a needle, a stack, driven straight through the stallion's heart. Looking at her now was little different from so long ago, the seconds shared, the minutes passed, yet the entire world have been turned away from him by the choice of his words. He had wished to returned to this life, he had wanted the venom on revenge, and yet now that he was here, he was confronted by the biggest thing that haunted him in his waking life. Aithne, the love of his life whom he hardly knew, yet when you spirit someone back from the palest of horses, there is little doubt left to run with.

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[L Y N X !]

It was impossible to actually believe previously before that she would ever see Stranger again. Her shy little friend that had slipped from her grasp, no matter how tight she had tried to cling, he had slipped through her fingers. The only fabric of evidence she had that she wasn't just dreaming she was seeing him now was the present lapse of time and the active conversation they were carrying out. It all felt like a rush, a fresh breath of air, to see him again. But how could it be? Had his death been a fake? His words flowed through her ears across the distance between them as she kept her eyes glued on his looming figure from where it perched high above her, head raised and expression full of a sort of sadness, but a curiosity all the same. The feeling of impending doom began to creep onto the mare as she processed what he had said. The devil's seed was being planted everywhere among the minds and souls of the innocent on this island, as if God had condemned them since their birth. Sins spread across like an uncureable plague, taking control of even the most decent of horses. A proud look, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, hearts that devised wicked plots, feet that ran swift to mischief. Could they not all be saved? Some, perhaps, but her not for sure. Too much blood had been spilled on her hands for her to repent what she had done.

The silence that stretched between them allowed Aithne to settle in a better state of mind, perhaps to contemplate on what the hellion had said further. If he was to pent on extracting his revenge, what would happen if he fulfilled his purpose? Would he be dragged away again in a rain of hellfire? And where would that leave her? Heartbroken for sure, to gain her friend back, only to have him taken so quickly away from her. But what if he was left to roam the Earth? Would he ravage the island, shaking it to its core so that there was nothing left? No, impossible! It was Stranger, still the one that had retrieved her from the White Horse's grasp. It couldn't be that he would be any different now than he was then, she refused to believe it. Perhaps less fragile, she would give at the least. Perhaps the release had cured him from his guilt that caused his anorexic tendencies.

Eyes stared in wonder at the two curved horns protruding from his crown as he brought them into the light, her ears pricking. Her eyes then moved to his shadowed face as he spoke once more, his words immediately catching her utmost attention. She let the words take root inside her brain, her eyes slowly widening as she processed what he was saying to her until he finally spat it out. He loved her. She felt a pang, her eyes softening as she continued to look upon the stallion. Is that what the feeling was? She couldn't explain what it was, but since she had regained life once more, and found the stallion still beside her when she awoke, she felt something. But what could it have possibly been? She briefly looked to her hooves, trying to judge her own feelings to the news. " Well Stranger.. I honestly don't know what to say. Admittedly I didn't expect you to feel this way toward me. I .. I suppose I feel a bit of the same. I mean, I doubt any other couldn've have brought me back.."

[/size]

[Storeh]

[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true]

[bg=black] Even in the ephemeral darkness that pooled upon the flesh coating as though painted across the shade of the night, the recalling of those so vacant pools that had served as his prison did not wane as one would have though such things should take time to do in the spiral of heavenly spite. A mind as a cage which had been the chambers of a prison from which the limitless days of unserpressed, mindless without the expectancy of cause, the happenings of which being all too eager to swallow the form of another without the heeding to misery that ravaged the world in the wake of such a thing. The ashes of the fallen still fell from the starless skies, tainted with the brilliant red as though it gave grace rather than taint as it touched with a tender kiss the surface of those where all too eager to accept it as a blessing rather than curse. These things so sought to scorch the already encased and blackened flesh of this so demented a hellion, all those hopeful enough not to see that this was not the snow they had imagined. The upturned faces of the demure children so spirited with their palms held open in wonder, smiles more than just the cellophane they projected as acid into the sky. It was in the whimsical desire, the fleeting whimsy, that their days of suffering had drawn to an end, with it the doors shutting for all of the eternity, so ignorant in the ways of this place. Onward the world turned as the crimson blanketed their hearts, twisted as the greatest of cogs in machine that was the process of living. Never did these so smallest of happenings, the collected last breaths and gasps of life become so farther taken into effect the hauntings that where the unbiased visions that tomorrow would be far better than today, the present a black hole meant to drain the life from your flesh so you could serve your turn in the raging fires of this hell. Shiminege still thought of these pasts too often, the reappearing visions so morbid with the trails of grief with the guilt unerased, permanent as though the rebirth or fall of his very grace could never erase nor wipe clean the damage or the curses already effecting his form. The body may have transformed from the beaten husk or lonesome shell, but the sinew under the silken skin made his stomach churn with sickness. In that life he had been undeserving, in this life was it any better or worse? A chill shuddered, passing unseen below the folding layers of his shaded pelting, hooking deeply into the core of his form and etching into the very marrow of his bones as though in the hopes to sharply splinter away the warmth of the fires that ravaged there. It was a shiver along the spine, allowing him to quake, shaking as those once more possessed by the malnourishment that once plagued him, though it was deeper in set, meaning with the fabricated beings of the lost past which one cannot wipe themselves clean of the sin. Cautiously, he raised the extent of his cranium a degree, as though through tentative measure he could cease the flow of thoughts, the utter realizations that swam without cause with the signing of his soul without the hope of redemption in these lands. If he was to put out the fires of his living with the tears of his melting being, so be it if the flames were to capture and consume him anyway, the sadness of the smothering sparks as they were vacated from those fiery orbs which he did not possess nor lay claim to. The devil's deeds had a loophole, drawn into the line by heaven's own accent, as though the wings could be torn in response to these creatures. Standing before him was the last scrap of humanity he had entrusted with bringing her back from the palest of fates, the capture of cold, resigning to himself with in her body resided the last measure of his soul. The facade of this lifeless corpse had shuddered with the thought of their meaning, though she was retrieving all in which Stranger was. This Stranger was still something without the demon living behind the glassed orbs of this walking flesh. 'Held within you is the last scrap of my grace, gifted from a time before this one as now. I have called you back from the grasp of fatality, and so what resides within you is the key to any salvaging of who I once was. The devil had a loophole in his deal, and she stands before me as the one who is still just as I remember, possessing the flames of salvation. You hold within yourself something even dearer than my heart, which I believe have taken.' Doubt was something that spread its claws and sank its roots into the mind of any who for a second choice to drive themselves to the edge with the desperate reasons of thought. Stranger looked into the eyes of the mare before him as though with indifference, though he felt hope being kindled, though there was hardly a reason for his salvation in a place such as this at this time. Suffering parted about him, the doom still hanging over Isola Dei Dei as though its name where the only thing that could serve to save it from the fate that had already been so predecided. There was so much set into stone, the misery set into motion, but that meant so much, so little, summoned into smoke at the last pretense of time to drain away. This place stank of trampled corpses and blackened earth, as though a all consuming fire in itself reaped the land, only to leave behind this scar of earth where equines sought to settle the labors of lamented lives with snapping teeth and spilled crimson. Nostrils flared with dancing fires of themselves, thinking of the wasteful natures, and wondering why Aithne herself was walking this road? There was a reason to every story, each one beyond themselves another meaning, and the one whom his pined after certainly was not beyond the touch of death and demise. Fate was twisted, distorted, making the animate its fool as though an especially cruel puppeteer. Who was to blame for the unforgiveable, then? Was he to be the one to bring down the gavel of salvation or more speakings of the resignation to eternal damnation. Rightful for the world to continue wallowing into the sheltered grasp of the devils of death, but where were the angels except looking on with pitiful expressions. Actions had consequences, before as well as after the killing of the soul, the slaughtering of one's own times, as though we could be thought to guide our own hands and steer fate. Aithne was a door away from heaven, and Shiminege knew this, hellion or not.

[/color]

Muse: Impossibilities are Fashionable.
OOC: The difference is beyond comprehension.
Music: The Way Home is Through You || My Chemical Romance

[/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]