10-07-2019, 06:50 PM
When the princess's voice rang across the yard, Poppy froze. What she thought was the golden flame of the dragon roaring to life is nothing more than the warm interior light of the castle spilling from the open doors like honey, like sap, and she is mosquito, frozen in time. Her mouth is sore from the sharp-edged holly leaves, as she sees they are now, her tongue cut and lips reddened with blood and toxic red berries. She lets them fall from her mouth, landing wet among the scattered leaves around her. The bitterness lingers and makes her drool, thin tendrils of saliva threading from loose lips.
A hand touches her shoulder, deft and cool, and Popinjay startles awake. House-slippers on the short-cut, damp, grass of the lawn move silently, the princess is like a ghost. The touch awakens something inside Popinjay, a feral fear, and her eyes roll, ears pinning back, but the voice freezes her again.
"Excuse me? Can you hear me? Are you okay?" She expects an answer. Not simply because she is a princess, but because she believes Popinjay capable of supplying one. It is not a hypothetical question given to the air, as one might say to a pet, to an animal incapable of responding in kind, or on any sort of equal ground, but as she might address another human, or, perhaps, as she might address a dragon, or a sphinx. Tension falls away from the yearling's muscles and she turns to meet the brown eyes that search her own. The face is stern, displeasure lurking in the firm line of her lips, but concern crinkles the corner of those eyes. This is a look that Popinjay knows, a look that she has been seeing her entire life, and as she has always done, she flashes a grin - as much a grin as a horse can flash - small ears forward and eyes brimming with mischief poorly shaded by the innocence she pretends.
"I'm fine, but you should see the other guy," she turns to study the torn dragon topiary as the princess's frown deepens, "Oh, well, <I>I guess you can.</I>"
The yard is quiet for a moment, except for the sound of whirring insects in the foliage. A yawn racks her whole body, but while the human's concern for her condition remains, so, too, does the silent demand for an explanation for the wanton destruction.
"I thought your dragon was real and I'm <I>so tired.</I> There was a light and a door, and then a great big statue that gave me a riddle, and it swallowed me even though I <I>definitely</I> answered it right, and then I ended up here, but I don't know where here is, only I didn't like the path so I had to cross the lava all the way down there," she points to where she crossed with her nose,"and when I got up here I was <I>so tired</I> and I didn't want to be friends with your dragon - I didn't know it <I>was</I> your dragon - but he wouldn't go away, and I guess he couldn't, but how was I supposed to know that?"
Words fall from her lips in a jumble, and when they finally dry up, silence stretches across the yard once again. It feels like forever to the exhausted yearling and she begins to think that perhaps she will just go to sleep here beneath the boughs of the broken tree. Her eyes flutter shut, but open suddenly when laughter bursts out across the night-soaked courtyard.
"You attacked what you thought was a dragon because <I>you didn't want to be friends with it?</I>" The princess's voice if high and incredulous, "That is literally the <I>stupidest</I> thing I have ever heard!" She seems to pause to think for a moment, and then smiles, her face more gentle than before.
"Alright, Little Horse. You can sleep here for the night, I will show you the way off this mountain in the morning."
She turns to walk back to the castle. Popinjay is asleep before the doors are shut and the golden light has faded away. Her sleep is dreamless and the princess, true to her word, shows her the way off of the mountain the following morning. They part with no more than a wave and a nod, and the yearling soon loses sight of the princess standing at the mouth of the cave. Her path descends into an inky darkness but caves hold no fear for Poppy, no matter how dark or how long. The sound of water dripping echoes from the depths, and high above, the tiny, just-barely audible chirps of bats roosting for the day. In places, the ceiling must be much lower, because glow-worms dangle above her head, forcing her to carry it low, lest they tangle in her mane. They offer no useful light.
For a long time, the bay walks, seeing nothing, but slowly the cave lightens. The walls become smoother, in fact, they become <I>clearer</I> and the black turns to a deep, midnight blue. A sound she does not recognize whines through the tunnel and huge shadows pass overhead. She keeps walking - there is nothing else to do. There is no way to get off the path this time. The darkness continues to lessen until actual light seems to ripple against the floor. It is clear as crystal. Fish swim by, silvery and scaled, schooling like blackbirds over a field. She stops, stunned, and touches the cave wall with her nose, pressing dark lips against the clear-quartz sides. A curious creature swims up from the depths and meets her, pressing its own long nose to the same place as hers before emitting a series of clicks and squeals, and swimming a spiral around the cave.
Popinjay squeals, delighted, and kicks up her heels, charging forward without concern for whether the crystal cave is hardy enough to withstand the pounding of her hooves. The smiling grey creature is joined by more, all with smooth, scarred grey skin, all clicking and whining and circling the tunnel as she races them to the surface. She bursts out of the tunnel as a pod of dolphins breach the surface of the ocean behind her, barrel rolling and crashing down again below the waves. The filly dances at the mouth of the crystal cave as the dolphins disappear, excited to turn and run. She finds herself surrounded, instead.
<I>What are the chances these are just more bushes?</i>
They are green, like the holly dragon back at the castle, but decorated with feathers rather than foliage. They bristle, like holly, their eyes red as the bright berries, teeth sharp as the points of the leaves. They carry no weapons, because why would they, the talons of their hind legs dig at the warm soil and the tines of their antlers gleam dully, like black metal. They are quiet for a moment, and then a great, squalling cry is raised, roaring in her ears and setting her heart to racing. What is that supposed to mean? The cave beckons, she could turn and run, they are so bulky and strange that they could never move as swiftly as she through the dark cavern, but that would take them back to the castle, and then?
She could attack, and she wonders if that would be wise, for the creatures are clearly designed for fighting, their bodies muscular, taloned and antlered and sharp-toothed. <I>But</I>, she thinks,<I> they should have attacked already. Why do they wait?</I> There is something she is missing. She cocks her head to one side, curious, pinned ears turning forward again. Only one pays special attention to her, uncomfortable and hungry. Strangely, it's shadow is that of a human, human like their smell, like the princess. The others have shadows that reflect their shapes and when she looks at them again, there is dirt on their lips. Have they been eating dirt? Only the one with the shadow of a man watches her like a predator, but it is not the look of one who is actively hunting. She knows that look, it is the look of Turul watching something too large to hunt, or when a rabbit lopes by and he has already eaten.
She's the wrong kind of prey.
She does not feel disgust that they would eat a human, surely, there must be things that do, as horses eat grass and wolves eat horses. Her gaze meets that of the Odd One
"Nobody else is comin' out of this tunnel, so if you're looking for a human, maybe you ought to look <I>there.</I>
And as she gestures to the city, the smell of smoke becomes apparent. Behind them, the shining city isn't golden, <I>it's burning.</I> A strange music plays in the midst of the flames, an uneasy fiddle scrawling a crazy tune.
"D'you hear that music too? What kind of weirdo play music when the city's burning around him?"
A hand touches her shoulder, deft and cool, and Popinjay startles awake. House-slippers on the short-cut, damp, grass of the lawn move silently, the princess is like a ghost. The touch awakens something inside Popinjay, a feral fear, and her eyes roll, ears pinning back, but the voice freezes her again.
"Excuse me? Can you hear me? Are you okay?" She expects an answer. Not simply because she is a princess, but because she believes Popinjay capable of supplying one. It is not a hypothetical question given to the air, as one might say to a pet, to an animal incapable of responding in kind, or on any sort of equal ground, but as she might address another human, or, perhaps, as she might address a dragon, or a sphinx. Tension falls away from the yearling's muscles and she turns to meet the brown eyes that search her own. The face is stern, displeasure lurking in the firm line of her lips, but concern crinkles the corner of those eyes. This is a look that Popinjay knows, a look that she has been seeing her entire life, and as she has always done, she flashes a grin - as much a grin as a horse can flash - small ears forward and eyes brimming with mischief poorly shaded by the innocence she pretends.
"I'm fine, but you should see the other guy," she turns to study the torn dragon topiary as the princess's frown deepens, "Oh, well, <I>I guess you can.</I>"
The yard is quiet for a moment, except for the sound of whirring insects in the foliage. A yawn racks her whole body, but while the human's concern for her condition remains, so, too, does the silent demand for an explanation for the wanton destruction.
"I thought your dragon was real and I'm <I>so tired.</I> There was a light and a door, and then a great big statue that gave me a riddle, and it swallowed me even though I <I>definitely</I> answered it right, and then I ended up here, but I don't know where here is, only I didn't like the path so I had to cross the lava all the way down there," she points to where she crossed with her nose,"and when I got up here I was <I>so tired</I> and I didn't want to be friends with your dragon - I didn't know it <I>was</I> your dragon - but he wouldn't go away, and I guess he couldn't, but how was I supposed to know that?"
Words fall from her lips in a jumble, and when they finally dry up, silence stretches across the yard once again. It feels like forever to the exhausted yearling and she begins to think that perhaps she will just go to sleep here beneath the boughs of the broken tree. Her eyes flutter shut, but open suddenly when laughter bursts out across the night-soaked courtyard.
"You attacked what you thought was a dragon because <I>you didn't want to be friends with it?</I>" The princess's voice if high and incredulous, "That is literally the <I>stupidest</I> thing I have ever heard!" She seems to pause to think for a moment, and then smiles, her face more gentle than before.
"Alright, Little Horse. You can sleep here for the night, I will show you the way off this mountain in the morning."
She turns to walk back to the castle. Popinjay is asleep before the doors are shut and the golden light has faded away. Her sleep is dreamless and the princess, true to her word, shows her the way off of the mountain the following morning. They part with no more than a wave and a nod, and the yearling soon loses sight of the princess standing at the mouth of the cave. Her path descends into an inky darkness but caves hold no fear for Poppy, no matter how dark or how long. The sound of water dripping echoes from the depths, and high above, the tiny, just-barely audible chirps of bats roosting for the day. In places, the ceiling must be much lower, because glow-worms dangle above her head, forcing her to carry it low, lest they tangle in her mane. They offer no useful light.
For a long time, the bay walks, seeing nothing, but slowly the cave lightens. The walls become smoother, in fact, they become <I>clearer</I> and the black turns to a deep, midnight blue. A sound she does not recognize whines through the tunnel and huge shadows pass overhead. She keeps walking - there is nothing else to do. There is no way to get off the path this time. The darkness continues to lessen until actual light seems to ripple against the floor. It is clear as crystal. Fish swim by, silvery and scaled, schooling like blackbirds over a field. She stops, stunned, and touches the cave wall with her nose, pressing dark lips against the clear-quartz sides. A curious creature swims up from the depths and meets her, pressing its own long nose to the same place as hers before emitting a series of clicks and squeals, and swimming a spiral around the cave.
Popinjay squeals, delighted, and kicks up her heels, charging forward without concern for whether the crystal cave is hardy enough to withstand the pounding of her hooves. The smiling grey creature is joined by more, all with smooth, scarred grey skin, all clicking and whining and circling the tunnel as she races them to the surface. She bursts out of the tunnel as a pod of dolphins breach the surface of the ocean behind her, barrel rolling and crashing down again below the waves. The filly dances at the mouth of the crystal cave as the dolphins disappear, excited to turn and run. She finds herself surrounded, instead.
<I>What are the chances these are just more bushes?</i>
They are green, like the holly dragon back at the castle, but decorated with feathers rather than foliage. They bristle, like holly, their eyes red as the bright berries, teeth sharp as the points of the leaves. They carry no weapons, because why would they, the talons of their hind legs dig at the warm soil and the tines of their antlers gleam dully, like black metal. They are quiet for a moment, and then a great, squalling cry is raised, roaring in her ears and setting her heart to racing. What is that supposed to mean? The cave beckons, she could turn and run, they are so bulky and strange that they could never move as swiftly as she through the dark cavern, but that would take them back to the castle, and then?
She could attack, and she wonders if that would be wise, for the creatures are clearly designed for fighting, their bodies muscular, taloned and antlered and sharp-toothed. <I>But</I>, she thinks,<I> they should have attacked already. Why do they wait?</I> There is something she is missing. She cocks her head to one side, curious, pinned ears turning forward again. Only one pays special attention to her, uncomfortable and hungry. Strangely, it's shadow is that of a human, human like their smell, like the princess. The others have shadows that reflect their shapes and when she looks at them again, there is dirt on their lips. Have they been eating dirt? Only the one with the shadow of a man watches her like a predator, but it is not the look of one who is actively hunting. She knows that look, it is the look of Turul watching something too large to hunt, or when a rabbit lopes by and he has already eaten.
She's the wrong kind of prey.
She does not feel disgust that they would eat a human, surely, there must be things that do, as horses eat grass and wolves eat horses. Her gaze meets that of the Odd One
"Nobody else is comin' out of this tunnel, so if you're looking for a human, maybe you ought to look <I>there.</I>
And as she gestures to the city, the smell of smoke becomes apparent. Behind them, the shining city isn't golden, <I>it's burning.</I> A strange music plays in the midst of the flames, an uneasy fiddle scrawling a crazy tune.
"D'you hear that music too? What kind of weirdo play music when the city's burning around him?"
