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Post by L Y N X ! on May 28, 2012 21:26:44 GMT -5
Sometimes, it got hard. It was still hard to wrap around the fact that he was gone, and she would probably never see him again. She had fallen asleep one night, and in the morning, he wasn't there beside her. His scent trail vanished by her side, as if he had disappeared right on the spot. She had searched for him for weeks, but there was no sign or sight of him anywhere. How hard would it be to find a stallion with wings? Despite her frantic efforts, he disappeared without a trace.
Fate had to be taunting her, laughing as she fell on her face. How was this fair at all? She had tried to hard to be good, to save everyone, to keep peace, but for what? What unspoken thing had she done to receive such horrible treatment in life? Sometimes, she wished she could just end it all, but she could never bring herself to do it. He had disappeared once, he would come back again, right?
Living with Revenant helped keep her mind off of it all. He was kind to her, and never pressured her to tell him what had occurred to make her so distant. She hid it well around him so he only asked once, and never did again. He was good company, but was often off with a few of his other mares that he had in his small herd. She was glad he was expanding, and though it was nice to have settled down for a while, she felt the pangs of the need to wander again. She still kept herself rooted in his lands, but today, she wanted to go out and roam again. Her little day trip had turned into a night trip. The sun was low over the horizon, turning the sky many shades of pink, orange, and navy blue. It was beautiful, but after so many sunrises and sunsets, it got old. The shadows were long as the mare settled among the willow trees, finding shelter in their branches as they flowed gently in the nighttime breeze. She shivered slightly as the temperature dropped as the sun went down, curling her head toward her body as she laid in the sheltered bracken. She'd head back to Revenant's in the morning.
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Post by Storeh on May 28, 2012 21:43:48 GMT -5
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Immutable turmoil to assail the freshened wounds, cut as they were so haphazardly upon the open projectional scrap of his so tired a mind. Akin as it were to a book, emotions to overflow brought forth, burning out pages to rip, to cast aside, in singularity as much as in heart. Heart was such as he had forsaken, squandered and mistook then to misstep. Barred was the emaciated stag from the wanted course of action, excused left unexplained by the reasoning of tongue. Said could it be that individual moments were perciously counted, weighted to be then agony shattering at soul from images hastily marked. Shivering hide to lend its grace to the plaguing visions of past, escalating to the pinnacle of tolerance, painful though as it may be. Crashing downward to the hollow of frail bones, lyrics sweetly sung, hanging from skull and mouth. Calling for the spill of blood splattered with each reaching scene, bending male backwards if only to break! Own blood swelling to rise, tasting in the back of mouth. Crimson tides. Rib cage ached with the feelings so heavily hung, veins coursing with guilt so reasoned, simmering from benign neglect. Regret as familiar to he as the burning air in lungs, deepened with each inhale. It splintered off in the hide to tear, tears that streamed in rivulets form the impressions of his eyes so dark. The Stranger of Our Holocaust deserved so surely each faltering grain of agony bestowed. Haunted was his mind, wishing so silently to succumb, as he had done, to the pale horse so patiently who waited. The creature from below seemed to watch him with pity, close to what his friend would then see. Sobbing would only lead him to choke, the dryness of his tongue leading him to drown. Thirst chosen so to ignore. The skeleton hiding under surface below began to rise through ashen hide, pressing with its insistences. Each bite was meant for another, crumbling with bitterness down his charred throat with feigned attempt to swallow. Stranger was undeserving of the energy taken, in need, for life.
Aithne, the blessing falling downward in spiral like the ashes of the world beyond, a spectre haunting his waking hours when delusion did not clash with the helpless illusion to knock his frayed mind for a turn about the spin. Love, crashing around his withering frame, chasing away the thoughts of hopelessness only to crack the heart again in two. Aching memory as though the finality of vengeful wrath, the heavens departing soul for squandering the gift so endowed. The dusted wings nestled before shoulder blades gave testament to the sentiment to which his part had been played. Each fabric that spun into sinew wept for her, for his love, the fondest memory of salvation! To give another breath for her upon his muzzle, to continue the living for her the way that he had. Never before to give up the life, yet Aithne was not by his side. Stranger would go through tribulation if only to reclaim that which now dissolved into breathlessness. The labor of choking breath, the coughing as his wings began to unfold, creaking bones complying with the burning sensation of ill used form. Skeletal beings stretching out their fleshless hands to the skies, waiting for the rains to come. Wash away the sorrows, the desecration painting their bones in grays. Heavy head tilted to the skies, his form lifted once more, the beat of wings in time with heart. Weakness like those who paint the streets with blood, orphans lying and stealing guns. Forgiveness past with hollow eyes, corpses falling from greatest heights. Ragged cough raked his form, crimson dripping from his tongue. The air embraced his world unclean, shattered home and spreading need.
The only scraps of consolation to be direly sought in the prison of the isles was that of his captor himself, who had thus imprisoned him in the homelands of the Elemental Spirits, speaking of it to simply profess that the reasons of his own were righteously sound. Soundless as well, toneless, for scarce a word could escape from the tied tongue of the Konjou Lord, whom broadcasted his own concealed misery from which he too wallowed. Tears wept and unwept lay like an unmovable chasm between the pair, draining away color from each voice, emotions dwindling to leave them little more than glorified shells. Vaiveahtoish doubtlessly was the heaven horse’s only true-bodied friend, yet the trust was being battered with the irreversible truths of a gilded cage. Stranger had to trust him. Had to. Without this trust, where was he to turn? The suffering had culminated, the visions beating restlessly upon his broken mask. The life to which he held with tenacious a grip had been recovered numerously by the Elemental. Protected had the stallion with more than physical battle, tirelessly caring for. When the emaciated stag had died, it was Vaiveah who sought to avenge the wronged death, mourning to insanity, just as the angels with their tears such shed. In torment his friend had fallen into the clutches of nameless love, only then to have Stranger reappear. Danger shot daggers into his chest, and Vaiveahtoish sealed Stranger away with his words of nothing but protection. A fear without face or claim. Tangible in the air, livable through his knowing. Shiminege trusted. There was no other way.
Ground below to send familiarity to above, brain clashing to claw at racking thought. There was a pressure to land in the confines of the trees, a need that struggled to rise above the pain smothering from the depths. Making descent in ungraceful stagger, shell rippling with chill, inner cries of pain with the bones settling upon stilts. A memory of fondness not, staring on with faceless rot. Days of birth to fill the air, love to harm with pure despair. Wings extended to tug themselves in, recalling naught the named then sin. Willows bent to scrape across hide, claws and talons reaching inside. Shivering slightly with uncertain air, walking softly as though not there. Ghosts upon the hidden mind, walking alone each sheltered pine. Picking off each in turn, ashless bodies then to burn. Stranger allowed the tears to come, symbols of the battles that could not be won. A scent to his nostrils to knock to his knees. Aithne... The best of figmented dream, seeing her among the trees. Heavens above the world could sleep, but Stranger allowed the tears to flow. Tumbling from his lightless eyes, ears pricked forth as the heavy head lowered, body quaking. Before him the mirage lay in wait, something like demons for him to face. Double pictures or double sight? Shiminege simply wished to cry. The last he had seen his love had been in the days so long passed, the time he had breathed without labor. Sharpened pain with heavy heart, lowering head and feeling lost. The frail stallion was remorseful of the pain he had left to fester as though open wound. Had such healed in proper way? Oh, Aithne... Sweetened name on his tongue, bringing forth what he knew was wrong. Loving something so dearly much. Coughing again the crimson rush. Burning forms and ashen dance, Elemental flashes from hearts akin. His body shook once more of this, wondering if he should give in. Seeing her once more, for the last. It was more than he had the right to ask. Widow’s tears to bring the call, the heavens above whom saw it all. What would act as cloaking silhouette? Bringing him forth as though without a breath. Her pelt so rich in his mind’s eye, clouded form. What feeling could he hope to convey, with brightness waning as it may? Love. Pain. Compassion at a sake. Understandable, forgivable. Purge me of my sin.
‘Aithne....’
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[/color] Muse: Faltering.
OOC: Has been on my mind for ages.
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Post by L Y N X ! on May 29, 2012 19:25:10 GMT -5
YELLOW SPEECH
The sounds of the night were falling on distant ears, her mind focused on other thoughts. How this place soothed her muddled mind, and brought her such clarity and tranquility. The whisper of the willow trees calmed her, promising all her troubles were worlds away. She knew that was a lie, but she could play pretend. Pretend that the island wasn't being slowly destroyed by maniacal beasts that dared call themselves horses, pretend that all she knew wasn't being taken from her, pretend that she had someone to call her own, to keep her company. Did it really matter? Did it honest and truly matter if she were to just give up and fade away? Refuse to eat, refuse to drink, to just lay here and watch time pass her by until she watched from unblinking eyes, unseeing yet seeing all? She knew what it meant now to give up hope. She has found so many broken souls, mourning their family, their lost loves, after the Zuden's fire extinguished them. She had promised herself to keep her distance from it all, there was too much at stake. She never thought losing someone she cared so deeply about, loved above all, would hurt so much. She thought that maybe the pain she saw in others' eyes was just fake and phased, but she knew how they felt now, how they've been feeling. Utter helplessness. She was in the position of instead of the hero, now the victim. Victim to love. How bittersweet it was, how happy she had been, in that short time she was in his presence. The lonely, sad stallion that she had fetched from the brink, in return for him saving her from the pale horse. How her heart ached at the thought of his face. Why did she have to fall? Why did she have to cause herself so much pain? She knew she should let it go and it would subside, but she was addicted to the agony the thought of him brought on. She couldn't let him go, never could she let him go. He was hers. He held her heart, and she held his. That wasn't what she wanted to give up so easily. Was it possible to even give it up? She didn't think so.
Fruitless dreaming overtook her, promising her images that were all overseen, scenes overplayed in her mind like a video on constant replay. And there was Stranger. There was always Stranger. But his presence was always haunting her, always on her thoughts even when she was asleep. 'A dream is a wish your heart makes..' How she wished to see Stranger again. Her mind taunted her, throwing something around that she couldn't have, no matter how far she tried to reach. She just couldn't grasp him. The image was scattered when she thought she had him. Illusions were apart of one's deepest desires. A thirsty man sees water, a lonely man sees friends, does that mean a heartbroken fool sees their lover? That would be an obvious explanation. But why does the mind do that? To bring forth a hope of surviving, to pull through the obstacle? The mind doesn't seem to grasp, however, it's like waving a bone in front of a starving animal, and tossing it away. It smashes all hope once one realizes that they cannot have what they want most. She wanted Stranger back, with every fiber of her being. Perhaps he had redeemed himself, and disappeared back into heaven once the gates opened back for him? She would want to try and join him, but she knew she'd go straight to hell. The devil had to of cursed her, and placed some horrible curse on her being. It must be some huge game, and she was merely a pawn to toss around and torture. Was she just a marionette to his fiendish antics?
Loud sounds disturbed her from her restless dreaming, and heavily lidded eyes opened to search the cause of the disturbance. Moonlight through the sparse branches of the willow forest was the only source of light in the inky blackness, and for a moment, she saw nothing. Raising her head higher, she began to register a figure standing a few feet away. Her breath seemed to freeze in her throat, and her heart seized as her eyes adjusted to the gloom and began to process what she was seeing. It couldn't be. No, it was impossible. The shadows were just bending to what she wanted to see, but how could they replicate the fringe of feathers, the glisten of tears, his scent.. Her whole body ran into a fit of trembling, her blood roaring in her ears as she heard him say her name. If she would have been standing, her legs would have given out, and she released a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding with a strangled sob. "Stranger..?"
- my immortal / evanescence
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Post by Storeh on May 29, 2012 22:56:41 GMT -5
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Precipitated affliction digging talon into vulnerable hide, serving the product of thored woe, a refusal to approbate that which the eyes themselves comprehended. Witness, unvarnished bearings, the surroundings suite, splitting heartedly the cranium with ache to deter, evade. Pain naught superficial in its nature, drinking for itself so greedily from the serving goblet of wrongfulness, imposing its weight to burden dearly unto the fading soul. Mind skipping in fractured time, blurring like aged film reel into alternate kind. Graves dug in the deadness of the midnight sun, flowers raining for those passed on, blood stains covered but still recalled by glassen eyes that saw them fall. Heartbeat stilled in falsehood, creatures twisted in inflicted harm, serving selves to drawing blade. Lacerations, scars sanguin, weeping quiet while in future loved ones scream. Insides burning in splendid suns, charring flesh without concern. To whom it may was hollowed out, craven faced with paper tongue. To burn himself, resort to dust, starting from out and working in. For Aithne to know see his tortured soul, was it worth the walking on the edge of the world? A single look to drown in eyes, tears falling faster with sobbing cries. Strangled voice his to match, lamenting anamnesis cutting thinly thought. Thinnest of frames to which he owed existence, threatening to burst with the effort of expression, unable as he was to stop it even should he wish it. Ragged cough to shatter bones, wheezing breaking lungs of stone. Falling apart yet held together by the thing that had wrenched them apart. Mourner’s body and widow’s eyes, mirror image of the truth he could not yet despise. What had he done to his mare, so sweet? Poisoned her heart and ripped it free? It was like the acid rain of the other age, cool to touch, yet catching flame. Drinking of arsenic in brew, singular deaths painting a picture of you. Aithne, if the angels could continue to weep, as Stranger was doing, struggling to keep his feet. Guilt that made him wish for the heavens to take the gifts back, deserving more of the devil’s wrath. Cast me down, his tongue longed to beg, to the place where my debts can be repaid. Blessing falling from her lips.
Tears creating chasms in the remnants of flesh unscarred, cheeks glistening with effort to keep himself calmed. Calm was he not with his mate before him, the emotions he felt swelling upon inside the chambers of withering form. The unexpressable torment was written so clearly upon the expanse of her maw, the sparks of her eyes he read without the need for contemplation. The Stranger of Our Holocaust saw with clarity what was brought forth to greet him, the remorse of his doing forcing his heavy head down farther, neck stretching as he forced himself to look into those eyes so dismal. Was there hope to find in the depths? Could he return the beating of her heart to its right? Stilts reached to take a step, body continuing in its complete desperation. To bemoan ones luck was one thing, but Stranger was in deserving of the present, the past breathing like a wraith upon his chest, icy fingers clutching at his heart, so frail. Once so sought. The pale horse was to bring the sleep to them both, yet without sight was he, without the situational understanding. Always a breath span away, a heart beat apart. The mixed blooded stallion could feel the pressure, but had only eyes for the love. The tattered remains of the love. Another step he took, legs uneasily bearing his weight, though want they did not. Muscles cried with protest, tears raining so easily from eyes. The regret was something in which he would wallow, would drown if need be, the sunrise to reveal what he kept inside. Stranger was a monster for what he had done to his mate, the one he was to protect, the one he had saved. Deserving of a life without pain was she, a life without the bother of his breath. Again the step was taken, shaken, his gait swaying as he moved not his eyes from her. Could Aithne see all the levels of hell and its fire, all in the dark of his eyes? Ashamed. Not bitter.
‘My....love.’ Two simply put words that Shiminege could not help but choke on, throat so parched and mind so tied. Knots in his stomach, it heaved and it swelled, like the chambers of a stomach forgotten. Love to make him feel as though the lost was here again, the vultures coming to tear out his heart, peck out his eyes and insides. Deserving of this. Raising his head again, the gaunt frames of his muzzle, the outline of his head. Aithne, his dearest, did she feel the pressing call of death as he did? What did she wish? Whatever she wished, Stranger would comply. Anything at all, she need only say. From the sheltered remains of his soul he would find a way to breathe it into reality. Breathe his very last. Dreaming happily he could be, Aithne so calling to his thoughts. Always, her mirage. Animus could not take that from him, Vaiveahtoish could not force him for forget. Without purpose, what was a being? Did it finally just become a thing? To live for another was something hard to forgive, harder to forget, and even more so to explain. Love Stranger would die for without hesitation. For Aithne, he would do what was needed of him. Be it march into the Zuden lands. Be it cut off his own wings. Trust, as he had lent to his friend, was forgettable with his mate. The mare he had saved from the grasp of the Pale Horse. With understanding she had brought him back from hell, fed his life to the angels, allowed him to be born anew. All that was the stallion was her as well. He could not expect his actions to not have consequence, as uncontrollable as they were. Absence, his vanishing without trace, the very thing he had done once before, only to return in the arms of his own method of disgrace. Worry he had forced to her mind, regret and guilt, possibly much more, unto his love and his only. How does one hope to compensate for the unease planted into another’s being? Help to unpoison to unjust wrongs, plant the seeds of trusting truth, compassion at a stake for her.
Tear me open. I shall bleed for only you.
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[/color] Muse: Faltering.
OOC: ...
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Post by L Y N X ! on Jun 3, 2012 22:02:20 GMT -5
YELLOW SPEECH
Her Shiminege. Could he really be back to her again? It seemed like a notion that was so impossible, that she would have retaliated to anyone that suggested that he could come home to her. Why give her heart hope to something that may not ever come true? It felt like it had been ripped in two when he disappeared without a sign or trace, not even an omen to place what had become of her love. Stitch by painful stitch she would try and sew herself back together, but what was life when there was no one to share it with? No one to hold, and be held to? No one to say goodnight to, and no one to wake up beside in the morning to share another day of being alive. What kind of life was it? Love was like a drug; even a little taste got her addicted, and she couldn't stop, no matter how many times she got hurt because of it. Because in the end, her love for Stranger was all she had. And to have it taken away from her? It was the most heart-wrenching thing she had ever experienced. They say that you don't know what you had until it's gone. But she knew what she had, and she knew what she had lost the first time he had gone from existence. Life was just trying to get back at her for every little bad thing she did. But she had tried to repent, to save herself from a life of bad karma and hell afterwards. It was it too late for her? Was some god taunting her, telling her that Stranger was too much of a blessing for a horse like her to deserve? He was the reason she lived now, and when he vanished, what other motivation did she have anymore? To not feel anymore of his gentle nuzzles, hear the soft coo of his voice in the late hours - almost unbearable. Almost. She had survived this long without him, but it felt like she was hanging on a thin string that grew thinner and thinner by each moment passing, and soon, it would have to break. When it did? She didn't know.
Revenant seemed to have delayed that breaking. His presence had soothed her being, made her feel not so alone in the world. He was a fast friend to her, and she ever appreciated him accepting her into his home. He never pressured her to know what caused the distant look in her eyes, only offered comfort and friendship. But a feeling in her gut caused her to want to wander away again, not feeling like she belonged there with him, even though he welcomed her with open arms. Wandering kept her mind occupied, worrying about watching her back from other horses, rather than idly staying in a territory where her thoughts and memories would run rampant. And Revenant wasn't always there to save her from herself. But there was absolutely nothing he could do to save her from when she slept. Almost every night she would become victim to horrible nightmares, or what felt like nightmares. The whole dream would consist of Stranger dancing beyond her reach, and that was enough to cause pure torture. Insomnia seemed to be her friend nowadays. Sleeping in the calm of Cascata brought on a hope that maybe she would have undisturbed sleep for once in a long time. But no, she couldn't be spared even that. Her mind had to conjure up something to ruin her even more. How many more stitches was it going to rip out before she completely fell apart at the seams? Seeing the illusion of Stranger was just another cruel joke of her consciousness. But how come she couldn't breathe with the force of her strangled sobs? Her throat burned with effort, golden eyes swimming with tears that blurred the image of her Stranger as he came closer to her trembling form. He looked more like a ghost to her - body frail and almost unable to hold his form upright. She climbed to her feet with the grace of a newborn foal, her legs wanting to give under the raw emotion she was under. She tried for words but her lips failed her.
Another strangled sob forced to the surface as he spoke again, and for a moment she had to close her eyes to get a grip of herself. How bare and raw she felt, her emotions out in display for anyone to see. All her life she had learned to keep her feelings hidden, but all that resolve was completely broken. When she forced her eyes open again, the image of her Stranger was still there, breathing and weeping. Her form continued to tremble as she stepped forward, reaching out with her muzzle to touch his with hers, and as their skin connected, she jerked back in shock. It wasn't an illusion after all. Her Stranger was home, back to her. She practically jumped to close the distance between them, her flesh hungry to touch his, to relish that he was really here. In flesh and bone, more or less from the state of his frail body. "Oh.. my poor Stranger..I thought you might have been just an illusion..but you're here! With me.. I've missed you so much," she mumbled against his skin, her muzzle roaming, touching every inch of him she could reach with a velvety light touch. She stepped back to peer into his dark eyes, finding him so full of emotion as the same as her. Seeing him again made her want to fall on her knees and beg for him to never leave her again, and promise everything within her power to never suffer through his leavings again. Her heart couldn't take the beatings anymore, even though it tried to promise her that it would survive, just in the hopes that he would come back home again. He was here again, wasn't he? He wouldn't leave her like that again. Right?
- breathe no more / evanescence
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Post by Storeh on Jun 3, 2012 23:05:27 GMT -5
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Affliction descending unto quivering framework, relinquishing pressure as each individual section of the makeup threatened venomously to merely snap in automatic response to the greeting born forth for the ways to greet. Funeral parade to be then interrupted by the silent breathing of the deceased, the skeletal remains to join in the march, singing smiling songs upon lips once so pale. Moments collapses in upon themselves without even the sheltered coalition to rectify the atrocities now befallen to the past. Four winds blowing ashes as far as they may, as far as they are able despite the forces working against their will. Shiminege could contain not the unspoken ecstasy of the smallest of Aithne's touches, so sought as they were from the dreams long since past, the memories of times before frail along with his bones. The hollow edgings of his muzzle sought her form, feeling the outline that had so long haunted both hours spent in restless waking as well as the fits of a dreamless sleep. Nostrils flared to inhale the truth of her solidity, with the simple act of knowing that this was not a conjuration from the willing chambers of a mind since lost. Thoughts could not compare, daring not to race, hushing to not compete with the soaring of his heart. Flying, even an act that should be cherished as fact, held not candle to the silk of her hide to touch. Lids shut away momentarily, eyes brimming with the salt of sadness, wondering if one tear to the earth would poison the happiness of the meeting, taint these moments that for the entire spectrum of emotion he would not have forgotten. Such simple things could be taken for granted, yet he would make sure they would not. Loneliness shattered with muzzle meeting, tears willing themselves to cascade not for sorrow, but alter themselves for joy. Eternity must have passed them both by, for Stranger could only but recall the last time the heart had felt any gladness, any sentiment other than pain, guilt, and regret. Blame could be thus easily assigned when one believed themselves to be entirely responsible for each lacking moment contained. Worlds apart, lands aside, Aithne was all that mattered in dark eyes.
Words, those words, falling like snowflakes upon his pelting, bright eyes searching without compassion wasted, the stag's tongue tasting the sweetness of her voice once more. Shiminege had missed her more than any sentence, conceived or otherwise, could give justice to, try and give itself reason as it may. Illusions were mutual, though if such, the most realistic of dreams, fathomed in mind as much as in physical manifestation. Broken-glass smile razored itself onto the gauntness of his features, rising to surface were the pain would then fall. 'My dear...Aithne. I-have missed...you without...fathom.' The strangle of his words tumbled from broken throat, the choke of his breath unused. Pain disregarded, there was still things he grasped for, that which even silence would not give adequate grace. 'I...will...stay with you..as long as you wish me...here.' A sputter cough resounded from his chest, but the stallion ignored it, velveteen maw traces the outline of her neck, savouring so sweetly the reunion. 'Forgive me. I tried...to leave sooner, but...was unable.' Dark orbs found themselves able to anchor again on the brilliance of the mare's own pair, searching for the truth were it lay. 'My..friend, Vaiveahtoish...would not...allow me to leave...Animus. He said..there was reason. Danger...but would...not tell me farther.' The weathered stallion felt as though wraiths were once more breathing down about paper thin skin, seeking to tear thin strips from his bodice. With the shake of heavy head, the distance remained not between, the entirety of his emaciated form pressing soundly against her own. Safety, singing straight from heart to heart, ears tilting to catch such a beat, wondering the song and the tone. Together, they could overcome all, could they not? Why would any seek to tear such a wonderful thing apart? If his dear friend cherished love as much as Stranger did, then way break the bonds and cast one into the treacherous abyss? Such questions sought to die with the murmuring of breath, lulling him into the darkness where he could finally forget.
To lay his splitting head where the demons could not forage for emotions left kindled. Where creatures could haunt not the chambers of past lives, torture the souls that have been left behind, will into existence that which they may, cast him back to the darkness of days. Together with Aithne he was finally whole, not the sharded piece of a fractured soul. Lost so long to the whims of the world, tugging along his heart in the dust, gathering scars to feed the fuss. Now rendered so inconsequential with the acceptance of minds so akin, bringing rendition of propriety the drawing curtains of an end. A ballet, a duet, spoken in language not learned, her features the pattern to drink his sin. Forgetting that which had come to pass, years to fall from mind swollen past the bending point for most to see. The neck lifted higher for the world to see. Bearing the scars of painful guilt, shedding the ashes of the burdened beast. To see him burn was not to last, the splinters of glass tearing fitfully then fast. Aithne, love unspoken, mind unveiled, could she understand that which had left his form so reeled? Strength in limb with her presence drawn tightly to his, without the skeleton bobbing under stretched fur. Vaiveahtoish, forgiven, as he may have been. Stranger was not one to hold onto the qualms of the unjust. On the end of a friend, he was the best he may be. A captor he may have fallen, but the heaven horse had broken free. What about his love, what would she have to say? To have her own heart chaffed, withered away? Pain mirroring his own, suffering not apart. Separate chambers they may be, but still the same heart. To share his world was what he wanted, but where to begin? Animus Elegancia was a name still foreign to him. Share his life before it ended, share his breath before it was his last. The feelings strong to feel, more so even than the last. How many moments had he wondered where she was in the isles? Here, with him, was now riddled with denial.
'Aithne...I will not allow myself...to bear...losing you once more. The life I live...has no meaning..without your presence by my side. The heavens..may have..given me the graces of the angels, but...it was you who drew me...back into the light. Love cannot convey..the emotions I feel..when I am staring into your eyes. Fathomless they may be, but...I can still bear my witness.' The shaking tone of his words grew with unfeigned strength as they snared to a close, foreign the feeling of power in his heart. Facing the challenges as they may come, The Stranger of Our Holocaust pricked his ears and listend for whatever could follow. Sobs to quiet on the stillness of air, heart to beat in time with the mare's. Days could dawn, nights growing cold, mattering not in the memories of old. Count could he not the feelings he felt, nor the remains of the ashes of his former self. Coughing, shaking, weak as a foal, he was not a fool, not anymore. Standing up was hard for him, mind challenging to scrape. For Aithne he would do all the things he was once unwilling to face. Vaiveahtoish, his dear friend, would have to be made to understand, Stranger was not his captive. Friends did not metaphorically break wings to keep one tame. Form chasms to keep the other sane. Broken hearts in a single strand, easily avoidable, falling again. His nostrils flared with the mare held close, muzzle straying the pluck the stands of her mane. Fondly, he caressed the crosses on her skin, ivories nibbling softly the withers and back. Pulling away to seek the orbs, wondering once more what the future held in store. The future he could not see. Stranger saw only the past. Both torment and agony familiar of friends, silence a companion, vision of sin. Paling the truth, Aithne to bring, features softening like feathers to wing. Times to be said, times to be brought.
Nothing can compare to what love has thus brought.
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Post by L Y N X ! on Jul 3, 2012 3:46:59 GMT -5
YELLOW SPEECH
Could the Fates see them now, rejoicing in their reunion? Did they feel fury that despite their best efforts, they had found each other once again, despite the odds being against them? She had to suppress the urge to laugh aloud, out of spite for them and for the utter feeling of ecstasy that swelled in her gut at the feel of his touch on her skin again. How she hadn't realized how much his touch affected her, and how much she had missed it until he returned her nuzzles and soft caresses. She touched him with urgency, keen on making sure he was all there, almost expecting him to suddenly vanish from her grasp and return to where ever he had disappeared to. Why couldn't she seem to believe he was here, in the flesh, not an illusion to her wildest fantasies? Maybe because she had been tricked one too many times to ever grasp that he was really here, but for the most part, she realized he was here with her. Just being close to him made her heart flutter as if she were a love sick filly again, and it was a feeling she missed. Where-ever there was lovesickness, he was her cure. Anything that seemed to me wrong, she felt like if Stranger was there with her, it didn't matter at all. As long as he was by her side, she didn't care if the Zuden came for her. She would find the strength in his presence to drive them away, no matter the cost.
Her eyes drifted to return to his face, drawing in a shaky breath through lungs she hadn't realized she was starving, filling her with the reassuring musk of his scent. Even in the darkness, she could see the ribs that pointed from his skeletal frame. Now that her initial shock was over, concern for her mate took over. He looked as he did when they first met, on that cold, fateful evening where they both saved each others' lives. Refusing to eat or drink, because he blamed himself for the events that were beyond his control in his past. Had he taken up that habit again, now that he was out of view of her watchful eye? Or was there something else that caused him to neglect caring for himself again? Withered skin stretched across his hallowed bones, skin sunken in to every crevice to make him look as if he were dead. Anxiety rolled through her at the sight of him, immediately wanting to correct his habit, but there were more pressing matters at hand. He was here, and he wasn't going to leave, and they could deal with his undernourishment later.
His voice sounded as if he hadn't used it in years, so broken and strangled upon his breath. Pity welled within her, but she didn't quite know if it were for herself or for her Stranger. He suffered just as greatly as she, and she had suffered quite a lot, hoping, praying that he would be somehow be alright, safe somewhere. She had at least hoped for some closure, to know what had become of him. But she had been offered nothing, just empty loneliness, without his gentle tones buzzing in her ears. But she had pity of him as well, knowing the extent of his feelings for her, but unsure on how far they went. She was sure that it was enough that he felt a great deal of pain being gone from her. Her lips trembled against his skin, her ears angling to catch his words.
"Of course I want you here," she muttered against his skin, her touch still hungry as her muzzle drifted across his back, tracing across the bony ridges of his jutted spine. "I want you with me forever, by my side. Never leave there again, dear." Confusion crossed her features then, as he spoke of leaving. Had he left her on purpose? Anger and hurt rose, if only for a moment, until he mentioned a Vaiveahtoish. Dare this horse separate them and cause them such suffering? Did he know the consequence of his actions he brought? "Then he is a fool. Did he know of what he caused by taking you from me? Have you no free will of your own?" Her anger did not dissipate, but rather shifted from him to this horse he mentioned. How dare he? "There is no danger that we cannot handle. " Her anger released once he spoke again though, her hardened eyes gentling to the soothing yellow. " I didn't think I could last much longer without you, my love.. I was so heartbroken to have you gone. To have to lost you once? Taxing. To lose you a second time? It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Promise me, Stranger, never to leave again. I couldn't handle a third." She pulled her head slightly from his body, her eyes searching his dark ones. She kept her forehead pressed to his shoulder, eyelashes gently caressing his skin as she blinked. "But nevermind that now," she said softly, "We're here together now, and that's all that matters."
- breathe no more / evanescence
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Post by Storeh on Jul 3, 2012 18:18:01 GMT -5
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Silenced such these sincerities masquerading nought as apologies, structured themselves as forsaken apathy written line after line upon the heavens above. Into the soundlessness these things then formed, as though welcomed to be swallowed, so forlorn, into the nameless abyss evermore. Raven’s wings and feathers fall, beckoning him to come heed the call, watch the darkness and know it all. The blood in his veins seemed to demand it. Sparks lay unfaded in lighter days now died away like flickered flame, faces then stilled in hopes to convey the darkest of the edges from which they spoke. Shame filled eyes then to wander, then to seek the form of the other, breaking focus to heed the knowing, unsure of the wind with its blowing. Meek instruction of the thoughts untamed, shimmering layers of the failing past, as dismal a shade that could ever be cast. Wraiths gathered in haunting stance, screeching moans with daunting dance, scaling the riches of guilt abound, beckoning demons to form around. Breathed was their ice down into his chest, pushing lungs in spiteful test, making a wreck of his insides. Shivering as he was with every little fractional touch, enjoying the closeness all the much, deprived a form of more than sustenance. Love was the product of true nourishment. Then he wondered what then could have been the truth, the thoughts all amounting to his cornered youth. Aithne, though, his only light, now evermore by his side, amounting to the only way he could live to see another day. Visions breaking into night, a harbinger of second sight, his seeing the past in ways unreal, ghosts of inclinations making clear. Drifting minds with their weary hearts, pressure building with the force unthought. Stranger saw the battles blow by blow, the ashes in place of the falling snow. Crimson painting pelting red, the hide shredded with the realest sins. Indulgence held the rusting key, bashing own skull to see it free. Harming higher a mark achieved, illest motions to then conceive, the plan in which oneself to torture, the misconceptions of a former lover. Where had this all been seen? The broken edges of a shaking dream. Visions could harm him not, the battles were not ones he had fought.
Yet when the smoke would then clear something inside would start to reel, his face would then choose to appear. In this place he could only see his face, gaunt edges sharpened into empty space. He then knew the meaning of an honest disgrace, a held held low with what the present could not erase. Pain to inflict those he would love, a pin straight through the heart of a captive dove. The stallion wondered the meaning of a waking dream when the wonders of the world where but of a life unseen. A life that appeared now and then to remind him of another’s mortal sin. Aithne before his touch had felt, Aithne now after the scars he had left. The way she lingered over his bones, stretches of skin and hollow holes. It made him lower his darkened eyes, wondering if she understood that this was not a lie. He could not fill the void that had been left by his captive state, thus the food had melted away. Nothingness had ensued, a familiar feeling he had used. The knowledge cascaded down around, blending the lines to giving crowns. Shiminege could see them now. Softly her kisses on his pelting assured, the tears falling from his eyes having recurred. These were not the products of sorrow, but of the meeting that he sought to borrow, the comforts of his mate by his side. The mere pleasure of looking her in the eyes. Sigh no more, it coaxed him forth, the musical substance of her voice, a musical bringing shattering the contemplation of tired remorse. Words cascade into mind, shaking conscious and forming line. How fractured it was, how divine. The velveteen of his muzzle continued then to caress, making up for the time that had been spent on end, feeling the softness of the coat still there, the hide that showed not the inner wear. Regret and remorse did not give him wings, nor lesser feeling or harder things. His mind did not wander, did not stray, listening to her voice that kept the ghosts at bay.
’Mark this...as true. I will not..leave you,” The petaled shapes of his ears flickered back with the pressing fear, the talk turning darker as it began to yield the speak of Vaiveah, something that sank his heart with slight dismay.’Vaiveahtoish may be a...fool, but..as my friend, I will ever protect him. Just...as I am sure...he was trying..to protect me,’ The blackened sparks of his eyes to search for the thoughts of her hurt. There was the knowledge of what this split had caused, evident in her reluctant pause. There was the tremor of his withered frame, the thoughts of what he knew had came. ’My will is...here. With you.’ Ears turned once more as she continued to speak, his focus still tightened on her thoughts of dangerous things. Yet the softening of her eyes held him captive in more than mind. Her words ever caught in his throat, tightening the knot that would force him to choke. The pain she had felt sent daggers right through, threatening to force his very being in two. Split he may be, but daft he was not, the thoughts continue to make their own march. A promise from his lips without needing to think, yet his muzzle still wandered as she continued to speak. Memory was committed to each fleck of her pelting, the stretch of her hide and the sparks of her mind. He listened and he knew what he was to find, the truth of her words shedding nothing to lies. The closure of her words whispered to his ears, the warmth of her frame forcing the tears. His neck arched and his wings began to unfold, the feathers caressing the pelting he had always known. Love to continue, love to amend. Love would bring faith, and love would mend. Stretching his wings he wrapped them around her, her form draped with a million different layers of monochrome. His breath came a bit easier with the knowledge of her mere existence, and he was no longer torn in two. Whispering the wind told him of the past, but he closed himself off to its grasp. Aithne was all that he could now see. The pressure of her closeness all he could need.
'There will be not a third in the span of our time, fate can no longer hope to divide. Without you I have no will to continue to see,' His voice came without breaking, came without fault. He did not stammer, nor stutter in verse. 'I ask you only one question out of this,' He willed his eyes once more to his, wanting to let her hear the phrases as they sought to sink in. 'Will you come with me back to Animus?' There was only time for the shortest of pause. 'Vaiveahtoish may have kept me from you, but there are questions I have now that I have found you. He is my only friend in these isles, and I have always trust him with my trials. Of you he knows, but you have not met. I want you to be able to ask him your questions as well,' There was the searching, or the need to insist, but Stranger was not one to force or pull on anything, even this. 'I will never leave your side again. If you refuse, I will have to give in.' There was another pause to drawn in his breath, unknowing of the truth of these smallest bits. 'He is my brother, even if he is a Lord. He gave me his truth and he gave me his home,' Searching for words that he just couldn't find. His pelting was pressed firmly to hers, and he wondered if this closeness was something he deserved. To ask to take her back from where he had been freed, was something that could never be seen. His captor had left him alone in a cage, without the excuse for Stranger had no rage. There had been silence between and a world all apart, the separate sickness that infected them both. The leader of Animus Elegancia was suffering in his own way, and Shiminege feared there was no way to find a cure. Vaiveahtoish would not leave the shelter of the lands, without explanation there was nowhere to begin. There was a coldness and a bitterness that infected the Spirit, and the stag wished there was a way to undo it. He continued to move his lips across her form, bestowing little nuzzle as his thoughts ran away. Here with his love was where he would ultimately stay, whether or not she could accept what he had tried to convey. Aithne was a purpose apart from his friend, a place where he would stay until the world itself would then end.
The mending of hearts and the bestowing of bonds.
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Post by L Y N X ! on Jul 6, 2012 1:19:44 GMT -5
YELLOW SPEECH
It was such an enraging thought, to think that someone had purposely taken her Stranger, the meaning of her life from her, while full knowing the consequence of his actions. Was this Vaiveahtoish even aware of the magnitude of the situation? Her anger simmered; had he no awareness at the condition of Stranger, even though the whole reason he kept him hidden away was to protect him? The only thing he didn't protect him from was himself, the prove was standing right beside her. Though she loved her mate dearly, she knew he couldn't be trusted with himself. Misery brought on revulsion of food and water for the poor creature, and it was only a matter of time before he dropped dead from such a strain on his body. The thought of her mate dying, being lost to her again, made her sick and her gut wrench, but she calmed her sudden spike in anxiety, her nostrils quivering with heightened breath. She would never, ever trust him in someone else's care; no one could care for him like she did, know him like she did, and she would be heartbroken if he left for another. But she knew he would never betray her, and she would oblige the same.
But to have him back again, despite it all, was the greatest feeling in the world. She felt like she was floating on her giddiness, and the urge to grin stupidly over at her mate was overwhelming. But she contained herself down to a more serious note, allowing his soft tones to hum in her ears as he spoke. His voice really was soothing, despite the rumble that marred his voice from the lack of use. It was very reassuring to hear him again, to listen to him promise that he would stay here with her, and never leave unless she wanted him to. Why would he ever think she'd consider such a thing? He was who she revolved on, and he thought that she would, at some point, grow bored of him like he was some toy and toss him away? She had to almost feel hurt for those words, but she kept in mind he was considering all the options; he had the future in mind. But all she saw in hers was a life with Shiminege by her side.
The feeling of safety and reassurance washed over when the dark stallion's feathered wing extended, and blanketed her body with the soft fringes over thick muscle. Her body became shadowed under the cover of his wing, and she found great comfort in the gesture he extended to her. She felt like a small filly again, cloaked with protection, staring doe-eyed towards her mate as he spoke, eager to hear whatever he had to say. Whatever he spoke, no matter how insignificant, would always mean something of importance to her. She never tired of him, even the days where their loving bliss went uninterrupted. There was always something she hadn't known about him before, and despite their love being new, she felt that the things she was still learning about him helped bind them together. Love was a great journey to traverse, and she was willing and hopeful, every step of the way, as long as he was there to face it with her.
Her golden eyes curiously searched his face, perplexed for a moment, as he asked her to return to the very place he had been kept for quite a time. Why would he want to return to such a place? Shouldn't he want nothing to do with the horse that separated them? She soothed her thoughts for a moment, deciding not to be petty. He most likely knew this horse for a long time before she knew her, and to ask him to stay away, even though he would do anything he was asked of, would be selfish on her part. He said this horse was his only friend, so why should she restrict him? She would be no better than this Vaiveahtoish. Heaven forbid, she ever be like that horse that caused so much misery. She knew that she could sway him easily into whatever she desired, she had him on her beck and call, but taking an advantage of that would make everything they worked for, loved for, invalid. Why would she risk Vaiveahtoish taking him away again, when she had no idea where such a place was? Leaving with him was her solution, but when it came down to the grit, she would go anywhere he lead. She rubbed her silken muzzle across his neck in assurance, nodding slightly. "Despite my outward reservations on this horse, I will return with you. Your happiness is apart of my priority, and I'm sure once I get over my initial bitterness with your Vaiveahtoish for what he did, all will be well."
- breathe no more / evanescence
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Post by Storeh on Jul 6, 2012 12:07:48 GMT -5
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Vehemence flagging away from the fabricated edges of the patient wraith, breathing indulgence into the air without contemplation for the depths of the ages it had crossed. Breath then not to falter upon the uselessness of a statter, each minimalistic pattern sought to be traced into the hide of the mate he faced. Stretching skin from hollowed features, ever scarred to always reaching, pocket marks that marred the hide. Limbs fragile acted not of accord that wished to shown, stiff with the lack of meat then used, a statuette the stallion stood. Petaled ears swiveled in inaudible stance, the emotion tightening itself into trance, refining though that dropped into ears, quieting oneself to distract from falling tears. Muzzle ever reaching across the expanse, reminded in such of distracted romance. Not as though such things could not be, touching strings that tied back destiny. Yet find not did he himself contemplating qualms of past roads lead as the stag embraced. In the empty chasm that had been his heart, there was never the grains of solace to be shared. Even if Stranger could then console ailing met on the journey to below. Many had faced him with ill regard, splitting seams and leaving nought but bitterness in their stand. The stallion never found in himself to blame them for the treatment he received. One this hole had been filled, it seemed then that there would only be the bestowing nature ever genteel. These were seeds that had been sowed, tenderly cared for with heart in tow. Ears flickered as though the past would lead, but the darkness continued to made shade on what he had seen. Wrenched from the place he had made by her side, there was so little to hold onto save for the charred remains of his soul. A being made of feather and bone, staring so hollowly with all of the woe. Clinging on he tried to what made him real, the character steeling inside. Ashen food held no sustenance he could claim, water burning the channels of throat, seeking to maim. Undeserving, as he were, of what could be lent to sustain frame.
Crumbling then it led itself to be, a process gone observed by eyes which could see. The body was a dire something that could not be freed with the binding chains that tied the heart released. Suffered first in pain and then in folly, one could reside in a state of suspended melancholy, continuing to cling to life though lacking in wishful fight. Vaiveahtoish must have known for himself that he was taking the across the expanse, a barren land void of emotion, a journey that would spell out the obituary then played like spades. Darkness was a harsh term for them to seek, yet it dominated all corners of Animus since the players had begun, starting itself with the ending terms of love. Forces so great, could it always be so? Filling the void with the drowning of souls? Continuing this had, as it only seemed fair, without the grace given by the Fates? Cursed as the stag may be with the forsaken lies of divinity, the world would not be so cruel to strike a decisive blow he himself could not longer duel. Lowering of head and returning of faith, Stranger sought to sell away the ill incapability that burdened him so. Refusing once more, did he, to count the bones that now accentuated his ashen pelt. Was this the work his friend himself had dealt? Aithne before him made her own stance, bright orbs seeming to whisper meaning, without words to aid, though the chambers of his heart mislaid. The hum of tune as heart to sing, something he had missed from the start. Restart, though, as it would seem, for the small ingrained insecurities melted away with the substance. Never again would his mate have to say anything, in truth, for there was the ability to convey the needed things nought with the preparation of words. The touch of skin and the bat of eye was enough to draw forth the casted line, lending expression and features called.
Worry now seemed to hold it sway over the edges of her muzzle, drawing attentions back to snap, filling the caverns of its kind that had not wavered in due time. It was only in idleness of ease in returning favor that one could then forget the state of oneself. For across the trails it had not been without suffering, a harsh lesson that had been sorely felt. Peppered with knowing as it may have been, the thoughts his friend had harbored of saving him seemed to fade with preparations strife, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. Misery would take over his form when it called with the shade pressing close, seeking to push in blows in its reign. The fight had been gifted with the knowing of her form, the life she must have continued to lead with the disappearance of his being. The harshness was substance that had been shared. Ashen forms to bring back chills. This, considerably, of course, was something that the mare had already known, from the moment he had returned to her heart restored. It was an event that once before had been witnessed, though misconstrued with the first admiration. With presence now sealed upon the silver edges of the tongue, there was sense of word that, for once, the stallion had won. The dance had had performed with misery in each state was a battle with the drawing marks, ones that could not be erased. Audios formed in air apart, Aithne speaking without the fabrications of deceit. The truth of these thoughts rained as though in light, a miniature storm taken in stride. Hearing and listening as he did, it was the shaking to the core that released the knowing within. Linger droplets of words lingered a chill into this expectant form. Forgiveness could be sorted in due time, for now there was the crossing of the border’s line that made his features start to glow, a smile that he wished then to show. It was an expression he had neglected in the recent months, and he allowed now the world to fall into reluctant relapse.
Smiling as he was down upon his mate, there was a sense of security to it, as though they were playing part in the most intimate of an embrace. The expression lit across his eyes, as though sparks to take them like stars in the sky. It pulled at his maw and pulled at his ears, bringing them forth without the lending of tears. It was a showing of emotion that the world could not refrain, one that was felt straight through his heart. His being was aglow with the warmth of this. It was a smile for only Aithne to see. A smile that seemed to allow a part of him to be free, released into the first lights of the morning on the rise. His muzzle found hers to ignite the spark, setting this moment forever apart. Stranger sighed softly as Time looked on with the accustomed takings of a frown, holding no sway over love’s own bounds. His breath mingled with her scent, and felt the borders of her mind at rest, falling so easily as it did into his own. There was no way to deny. The stretch of his wings began to refold, the fringes of feathers brushing themselves down her neck as he looked down upon her with compassion. The smile lingered, as though not to fade, though it was smaller, not stretching across the features so broadly. Stranger turned from her, though reluctant as he was, and began then to lead the way, stepped through the reaching trees. Anims Elegancia was a land purely of Elemental step, and the path was not well traveled to such a place. Vaiveahtoish had taken to showing his friend how to find with ease the lands, the home that he had so willingly shared. Stranger knew, however that there was meant to be an air of seclusion about the Konjou lands, one that even he could not understand. Just as the Lord of Spirited seemed to like such a thing, set apart from the isles and so rarely with intrusion. With wings firmly tucked to his side, he ducked under the arching boughs of the willow’s reach. Lowly, he nickered back to Aithne, making sure she was following closely in his steps as he continued to walk across the expanse of the trees, leading her away from the Cascata Più Forrest.
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