[private] The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Forest (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=73) +---- Thread: [private] The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} (/showthread.php?tid=18737) Pages:
1
2
|
||||||||||
The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - Hephaestus - 03-21-2018 Hephaestus He hadn’t yet left the forest. Even despite the minor disruptions to his solitude, he still couldn’t find the motivation to break free of the thick foliage. He found it peaceful there among the trees and bushes. Oblivious to the rest of the world he suspected that he would be content to remain there longer than he probably should. There were tales of forest, dark places that, once entered could not be escaped. It wasn’t hard to picture horses losing themselves within the maze of trees, deer paths and brush. Even so, to him being swallowed by the forest seemed like the best way imaginable to fade into oblivion. Quietly he plodded along, the soft treading of his massive hooves barely disturbing the gentle heartbeat of the forest. He’d lost track of the time he’d spent tucked away amongst the thick trees. It was freeing to be able to forget himself – to not have to hide himself from the prying eyes of others. It was too easy to escape their questions and their curious stares. Although he knew they meant well their stares always jolted him back to the horror of his past. There were pieces of him that would never be open for discussion, places he never wanted to revisit and memories that were better left buried. Besides, who was he to deserve their pity? He was a mere speck of dirt on the great landscape of life. Unworthy, it was better for him to be alone. It was easier that way. Blowing through his crooked lips, he breathed in the earthy scent that surrounded him. For a moment he imagined that he was apart of the forest itself, ever changing and constant. Hardly soliciting a passing glance from travelers. He imagined the large pines and oaks lived a peaceful, untroubled life. If a branch rotted it fell off. Every leaf, every blossom had it’s place and purpose. It was a beautiful existence and one that he longed for more than anything. The only comfort this life offered him was that someday his wish would be granted, he would one day melt into earth. He only prayed that he would then return as the trees that he so admired. Break My Shackles To Set Me Free @[wound] Went a little deep for you. RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - wound - 04-02-2018
credit to nat of adoxography. @[Hephaestus] RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - Hephaestus - 04-04-2018 Hephaestus
The edge of the forest was nearing. He could smell the lush green grass of the meadow lurking just beyond the next bend. Sunlight broke through the leaves stronger than ever and the browned leaves of commonly shadow dwelling plants shouted their complaints. Abandoned by the shadows, he felt a heat upon his skin. Instantly his comfort was gone, and he exhaled in anticipation. Only, suddenly, he became aware of footsteps a beat apart from his own. He was no longer alone. The more time he spent amongst the trees the more he came to realize that he was not the only admirer of the forest. He’d met more horses among the trees than he’d expected. In many ways he wasn’t trying to hide, but, in many more, he was. The coal black of his coat made it almost all too easy for him to escape the notice of fellow travelers searching for an escape amid the brambles and branches. Only, most had proved themselves to be far more conversational than he’d like to be. Stopping abruptly, he trained his ears towards the steady pace of the stranger. It seemed that they too felt it necessary to pause and, for a breath, they stood there considering each other. It was a feminine voice that called out to him, her voice drifting over to him from the left side. She knew that he was there and, for a moment, he considered the course of action he wished to take. If he left without a word she would surely see him as either a coward or a threat and, since he was neither, he aimed himself towards her and pushed through the brush that’d divided them. Standing there within her view he breathed deeply. ”I apologize,” he voiced by way of a greeting. ”I hope I did not frighten you.” Break My Shackles To Set Me Free @[wound] RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - wound - 04-13-2018
credit to nat of adoxography. @[Hephaestus] RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - Hephaestus - 04-19-2018 There is a familiarity that ignites between them. The brightly burning flames of two kindred souls alight once more. Unlike the many encounters before this one, Hephaestus did not shy away from the unassuming figure before him. Her exhale, the hidden sound that it was, sent his eye searching hers. She did not look upon him with morbid curiosity, instead it was almost as if she was glancing into a past nearly forgotten. He was mournful to have respawns such hateful thoughts for, before him, appeared a mare, whole and beautiful. Without hesitation she dismissed his apology, stating his lack of need for one. Internally, his insides lurch. He'd spent a lifetime apologizing. His existence, his continued will to live, and the gruel gift of his one eye - they were all things that caused him remorse on a daily basis. As the mare steps forward her words are almost carried away by the wind, another victim to the forest. He leans into them, his well trained ears picking up every hushed, reverent tone. "We are Alike." The phrase was almost beautiful in its simplicity, if not slightly misguided by its falsity. As her lips brush against his, however, the constant toiling is hushed. There was no lust behind the gesture, nor no hidden agenda or vile curiosity begging to be sated. It was innocent and, it was in the quiet of the moment that he felt something that took him by surprise. He felt wanted. Tears pricked at his lower lid, threatening to spill past his carefully mortared walls. For a moment, he considered that she might let her glimpse into the pain that was his existence - to see the depth in which her touch had affected him. But the walls stretched too high and, instead, he felt himself step away. OOC: @[wound] RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - wound - 04-22-2018
credit to nat of adoxography. @[Hephaestus] So, Wound used to be super anxious when she was younger, and this entire experience just gave her a bit of a flashback and here she is D: RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - Hephaestus - 04-22-2018 Hephaestus
Memory was a fickle companion. There were many times when it brought a sense of warmth and familiarity, and other times when it provided nothing but pain. He could see in her eyes, the pain that resided there. Loneliness had been the one true constant throughout his young life and he could see it there, nestled deep within her. In some ways, their spirits had entwined together, forming a bond that surpassed even his own understanding. Immediately he regretted the instinctive reaction he’d had to her tender touch. Deep within the pits of her eyes a panic spills forth as her ears begin to swivel uncontrollable. He could feel it too, the heaviness that surrounded him as a million eyes belonging to forest stared down at them. Insects and bird sang their melancholy songs and he stepped forward to remedy the distance between them. Her apology is stuttered and broken, her previous confidence vanquished by the unseen demons of her troubled past. Helplessly he watches as her eyes roll and her body begins to shake – fear gripping her from the inside. A strangled sound escapes her lips as she stumbles forward. Without a second though, he steps into her collapse, catching her by the width of his chest. It doesn’t matter that they’d only met a breath ago. A small part of him feels as though he is seeing himself, the torment of an unlived childhood. Of unexplored potential – a life never lived. There are no words to express the empathy he felt. Instead, he’d done what she’d done and pressed his lips gently against hers. There had been times, as a child, in the dark of the night that his soul had longed for the tender touch of his mother. He’d watched helplessly from his place on the outside as she would tenderly kiss away his baby sister’s tears and whisper… “Everything will be alright.” Break My Shackles To Set Me Free @[wound] RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - wound - 04-25-2018
credit to nat of adoxography. @[Hephaestus] RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - Hephaestus - 05-12-2018 The forest around them pulsed in time to his beating heart. The mare's closeness was unfamiliar to him, the touch of her soft body sending shockwaves through him. Often times lost to his seclusion, he'd survived without the necessity of touch. His own parent's had only ever graced him with their comforts once - and even then it was as they were attempting to still the rythem of his heart. From that moment on, as he bled clinging to the disastrous life he'd been given that he came to despise any form of physical contact. The silver laced mare had crossed all his boundaries and, for the first time, he allowed himself to lose himself in the moment. As she trembled beside him, Hephaestus saw himself mirrored within the panicky windows of her soul. The fear and uncertainty...though he would never admit it, he'd felt all those things and more. Only, he'd learned to bury the trembling hypeeventilation that would rise up from the depths of him. He embraced his loneliness and called it friend. Beside him, he could feel her tense body slowly relax until the moment that she peeled herself away from him. For a moment, he found himself grieving the loss of her closeness - an altogether frightening realization. Her whispered thanks tickled his ears and he is almost startled by it. When he'd first arrived upon the shores of Beqanna, he had never thought that it would be he comforting the broken. In his travels he had met many who thought themselves destestable and he'd offered his comfort. Somehow, he'd been enough to calm the raging storms within them. And each time he left them, his own torment seemed quieter. Perhaps there was something he had to offer after all. Perhaps this journey didnt have to end with his death. Standing independently now, the bay thanked him once more and he nodded stiffly in her direction, his eyes tracing across the whole of her body. Despite her right leg, she was beautiful beneath the leafy canopy above. He only wished that she could see herself through his eyes. @[wound] RE: The Wounds of My Past || {Wound} - wound - 05-19-2018
credit to nat of adoxography. @[Hephaestus] / i figured this would be a good place to end this... feel free to reply if you want so we can say she knows his name haha. or we can just assume he replied with it. |