<center><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display+SC|Cinzel" rel="stylesheet"><div style="width: 500px; background: url('https://s1.postimg.cc/73x5q1cojz/Takei2.png'); padding-top: 5px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #000;box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="width: 490px; background: url('https://s1.postimg.cc/73x5q1cojz/Takei2.png'); padding-top: 10px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #89312a; box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="font-family: 'Playfair Display SC', cursive; font-size: 50px; color: #000;margin-top: 00px;padding-right:10px;text-shadow: 0 0 3px #000,1px 0px 1px #a94c31, 1px 1px 1px #7d352d, 1px 1px 1px #7d352d, 0 0 10px #000, 0 0 10px #7d352d;">Takei</div><div style="width:450px; margin-top: 380px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; padding: 10px; font-family: Times;color: #000;font-size: 13px; line-height: 140%; text-align: justify; text-shadow: .2px .2px 0px #000;">
Takei often took comfort in the rhythm of the ocean. The way the tide would roll in and out, the way the waves washed the shore clean, the movement of the currents - it all soothed his restless soul in ways he would never be able to put into words. The scent of water stinging his nostrils and the taste of brine on his lips were comforts to him. Takei often found himself making his way down a familiar track to the shore when the emptiness in his chest felt particularly suffocating.
There had been many times that he had spent the day wading in the shallows or racing the gulls, only to spend the night curled against tender blades of the beach grass. Although the day before Takei had spent the light hours among the shade of a forest, he woke in the midst of a dream with an intense weight in his chest. It felt as though it were shoving the very essence of his soul straight out of his heart. Within that weight, there came the sounds and sights and smells of the beachfront.
So he left. He peeled himself away from the warm embrace of a willow tree and began the familiar journey to the shoreline. It was quiet, even for nighttime. Takei could barely hear any noise above the gentle thrum of his heart, the murky churn of blood in his vessels, and the rhythmic whoosh of his breaths. His steps led him across the sand (though it clogged the soles of his feet and made his steps sluggish, he enjoyed the burn of his muscles) until the bitter salt water met his knees. The waves were mighty for a relatively peaceful-looking evening, sloshing against his wide chest only to withdraw back to the plane of his knees.
For a bittersweet moment, he felt at peace. The melody of the ocean singing against his skin gave him relief against the intensity pressing into his chest cavity. A looming shadow on the horizon captured the tranquility in a glass jar and stowed it away. Takei watched with hazel eyes as the shadow loomed closer. It seemed each time he blinked it was somehow miles nearer still (as though the shadows moved in stop-motion, each blink causing their location to shift dramatically). In one moment, the shadow changed from mysteriously dark to vibrant and full of color.
Takei realized, it was not just a shadow. It was a stormcloud, high and mighty and painted every hue of violet. The colors looked alive - swirling against the deep navy of the nighttime sky - and the shadow suddenly zapped to loom above the ocean’s shore. Panic gripped Takei and, almost in tune with his emotions, the waves ceased. There was no rhythm to the tide, no ocean to guide the force of the water, no current to drag against the grains of sand.
Takei lept from the salty water, feeling as though remaining it in it any longer would result in something dangerous happening. A few low words fell from his mouth in mingled confusion and fear, <b>“What the fuck?”</b> just before a loud crack sounded. It was not the obvious sound of thunder, but rather the crackling of a hundred lightning strikes, mingled with the bitterness of glass shattering, echoed by the sound of a pained cry, and wrapped with the low grumble of the earth splitting from the seams.
A shudder rippled through Takei’s body and panic grew into his throat like snapping, thick vines. The ocean lay before him as still as concrete for a moment longer, when suddenly the water rippled as something - someone - surfaced from the depths. The form mimicked the coppery red on Takei’s own body, though it was without the ivory that marked his. The figure was tall, mighty, muscular - the sight of a sturdy soldier. Although Takei had never met the stallion, he knew exactly who it was.
His grandfather.
An icy burn settled in his stomach. Hestoni had died when Takei had been four years old and he had always heard the stories (from both of his parents) of the vicious love he had held for Scorch. The Jungle stallion had been a role-model of Takei’s from the moment he had heard of his grandfather, yet his own reclusive personality did not allow him to follow in his brave footsteps.
The red man continued to walk from the depths of the still ocean, leaving no splash and no wake in his movement. Takei watched - muscles tense and heart thumping wildly - until Hestoni stopped just short of dry land. He could see his grandfather’s facial expression - it was unnaturally stern, with hard edges where there used to be curves and smiles. The end of his steps unleashed the wrath of the storm looming above their heads. As quickly as the waves had stopped their motion, the rain began. It was hard and cold, pouring on Takei’s head like a waterfall from winterlands.
He gasped as it struck his skin, feeling the sharpness of the cold bite into his nerves. A loud crack of the noise (the twist of thunder, glass, agony, and rubble) shuddered the air around the blood and ivory stallion and he jumped, this time his hooves splashed into the still ocean water. Another flash and Hestoni - his own grandfather - unleashed a roar like that of a dragon before his feathered legs stretched from the salty sea to slice at Takei.
A hidden word stretched out from the following growl (<i>“Run”</i>) but Takei was too absorbed in the gush of dark blood pouring from the wound Hestoni had opened across his chest. He twisted then, turning away from his beloved sea to race along the shoreline. The storm followed him, patient and calm in it’s steady pour of heavy, bitter rain, but Takei kept running until his legs gave out beneath him and he fell in a mess of sweat, blood, tears, rain, and hopelessness.
<center><b>&&&</b></center>
The cry of a seagull woke him. The sound scraped against his eardrum, piercing through the murkiness of his dreamless unconsciousness. Takei moaned, eyelids sliding open only to close again as the pain of the direct sunlight burned into his hazel eyes. The heavy weight that had led him to the beach had lifted, the confusion from the night before had melted into peace, and the rain had been replaced with a heat that caused his skin to itch deliciously.
It took him a moment, but eventually the chestnut and white stallion rose from his place on the sand. A perfect, clear ocean lay before him - the waves perfectly in place. A voice over his shoulder startled Takei. <i>“Do you have any fuckin’ idea where we are?”</i> It had been a black tobiano, perfect in stature and color. He was a direct contrast to Takei’s own coloring - a coppery red and bleached ivory against an inky black and papery white. <i>“I’m Orion,”</i> he introduced himself. The sun shone on his face like a spotlight and Takei couldn’t help but feel a hand reach down his throat and steal away his breath.
Orion continued speaking, gesturing toward the eleven others that had been placed on the shoreline as well. <i>“This is Scorpius”</i> - a brilliantly red stallion with a look of fire in his eyes - <i>“and Cassiopeia”</i> - a dappled mare who smiled like a delicate doll - <i>“and Draco”</i> - a deep shadowy stallion who bit out a sharp, <i>“I can introduce myself”</i> before Orion could continue - <i>“and Andromeda”</i> - a red roan watching the waves with a bewildered sort of fascination - <i>“and Ara”</i> - a golden woman standing near the rear of the group - <i>“and Cancer”</i> - a charming bay stallion with a smile that would win a thousand hearts - <i>“and Columba”</i> - an ivory mare with the blaze of passion in her gaze - <i>“and Corvus”</i> - another dark stallion who held deep hatred against the tightness of his lips - <i>“and Lyra”</i> - a blue roan with a barrel slightly swollen with a child not due for some time - <i>“and Phoenix”</i> - a stallion whose skin was puckered with scars from many fights - <i>“and finally, Hydra.”</i> The final was a grullo with warm curves to his face like that of an elderly grandfather.
Takei’s lungs quaked at the sight of so many faces. He’d remained in the shadows of Beqanna for most (if not, too much) of his life. The blood and ivory had been comfortable with his introverted lifestyle, spending some of his days in the woodlands but most of them chasing gulls or weaving between tide pools. Although he would have wished his voice more steady, it comes out shaky nonetheless. <b>“I’m Takei.”</b>
<center><b>&&&</b></center>
They would grow close. They discovered the island together (the island with it’s four habitats - the tropical forest with its beach counterpart, the rocky mountains sloping to the volcano in the center of it all, the quiet forest with its tranquil lake and wandering streams, the sweltering desert and the comfortable oasis in the center), breaking off into groups, but always returning to the beach from whence they came.
The thirteen had tried to piece together their purpose and the island’s purpose. Often Takei would find Lyra staring out toward the horizon of the ocean with a look of longing in her pretty coffee eyes. Each week she seemed to move slower as her belly grew rounder and that stretching womb only further reminded Takei that the other twelve had families past the endless waves.
His parents had raised him with a unique sort of endearment. It edged on the corners of love, but never quite reached. Takei spent all of his childhood chasing after that sweet taste of affection, yet he always fell just short of it. Each time he fell, he sobbed into the dirty ground a few moments longer. It built up an emptiness in his chest, a deep darkness that could not be undone easily.
Yet Orion had prode at that darkness with tender, brave fingers. Takei had shied away, at first (how could his quiet personality ever compare to Orion’s dazzling light?) but eventually he found himself curled close to the ink and paper stallion among the gentle hum of the tropical nights. Orion became the balm to his scarred, broken knees (scarred and broken from those countless, weary failings) and Takei wrapped himself in the cloak of his affection.
Their first time had been blissful. The day had been a warm one so all thirteen had gone for a swim at the beach. They had splashed in the comfort of the bay, snorting at the fish that swam by warily. As the sun fell, all but two retreated to the warmth of the tropical fronds. The best of sleeping places were closest to the volcano, where the molten lava and brewing flames brought sympathy against the chill of night.
Orion and Takei lingered still, dancing around one another in the inky shallows of the lapping waves. There had only been sly kisses before - a tender touch to the hip, a gentle grasp of a lock of mane, a quick slide of one flank against another - but as the moon rose, there was nothing sly about their actions. The bitterness of cold did not linger on their sweaty bodies. Kisses and sultry nips and bruised bite marks wove among both of their patchwork frames.
Takei felt choked with the amount of affection he gave and received. When they both settled from the adrenaline (when the blood climbed down from atop the shadow) their bodies wove among one another in gentle caresses until sleep carried them away.
<center><b>&&&</b></center>
They spent weeks this way - enjoying all the island had to offer during the day, enjoying all one another had to offer during the night. The wound from his grandfather - a constant reminder of the night it all began - healed into a ragged, puckered scar against the red and white of his chest. Each night, Orion would dip his head down to gently kiss that blemish and each night Takei would find his chin craning toward the sky. It became a heavenly routine, one where Takei felt no reservations about saying those three words to his ink and paper companion: <b>“I love you.”</b>
Thankfully, there was a similar reply back.
They always slept together, bodies intertwined among the twinkling stars, almost as a reassurance. When Takei awoke one morning to find the absence of his lover, he tried not to fret. Orion had probably snuck off in the early morning to dote over Lyra and her swollen womb, or perhaps check and make sure Corvus had not destroyed his knees trying to climb to the volcano’s summit. It was undeniable the black tobiano was the strong, supporting head of their closely-knit band, and Takei had woken upon several occasions to find his lover servicing to one task or another.
But as the day waned on, the blood and ivory man found himself increasingly more concerned. He gathered the thirteen with a nervous call throughout the island, and as the sun began to descend into the ocean they met upon the same shores they had come from. <b>“Have any of you seen Orion today?”</b> Takei’s voice had grown stronger among his newfound family over the weeks and he felt no shame in the way his voice cracked with mingled urgency and anxiety. The feeling of fear ate away at his insides like a gnawing infection, spreading throughout his body to make him feel jittery and feverish.
A resounding <i>“no”</i> came from the twelve gathered and Takei took initiative. <b>“We have not seen any predators on this island since we came here and we all know Orion would not abandon us.”</b> The stallion took in a deep breath to steel his nerves. <b>“We must search the island - every corner of it - to find him… He could be in danger.”</b> Despite the deep love held in Takei’s heart, some degree of affection was felt in every soul for the ink and paper leader of their band of misfits.
And so they turned and entered the thick of the tropical jungle just as the sun’s curve kissed the horizon.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; color: #000; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom: 10px;text-shadow: 0px 0px 6px #b45b3d;">watch the mind run far away, way ahead of us</div></center>
Takei often took comfort in the rhythm of the ocean. The way the tide would roll in and out, the way the waves washed the shore clean, the movement of the currents - it all soothed his restless soul in ways he would never be able to put into words. The scent of water stinging his nostrils and the taste of brine on his lips were comforts to him. Takei often found himself making his way down a familiar track to the shore when the emptiness in his chest felt particularly suffocating.
There had been many times that he had spent the day wading in the shallows or racing the gulls, only to spend the night curled against tender blades of the beach grass. Although the day before Takei had spent the light hours among the shade of a forest, he woke in the midst of a dream with an intense weight in his chest. It felt as though it were shoving the very essence of his soul straight out of his heart. Within that weight, there came the sounds and sights and smells of the beachfront.
So he left. He peeled himself away from the warm embrace of a willow tree and began the familiar journey to the shoreline. It was quiet, even for nighttime. Takei could barely hear any noise above the gentle thrum of his heart, the murky churn of blood in his vessels, and the rhythmic whoosh of his breaths. His steps led him across the sand (though it clogged the soles of his feet and made his steps sluggish, he enjoyed the burn of his muscles) until the bitter salt water met his knees. The waves were mighty for a relatively peaceful-looking evening, sloshing against his wide chest only to withdraw back to the plane of his knees.
For a bittersweet moment, he felt at peace. The melody of the ocean singing against his skin gave him relief against the intensity pressing into his chest cavity. A looming shadow on the horizon captured the tranquility in a glass jar and stowed it away. Takei watched with hazel eyes as the shadow loomed closer. It seemed each time he blinked it was somehow miles nearer still (as though the shadows moved in stop-motion, each blink causing their location to shift dramatically). In one moment, the shadow changed from mysteriously dark to vibrant and full of color.
Takei realized, it was not just a shadow. It was a stormcloud, high and mighty and painted every hue of violet. The colors looked alive - swirling against the deep navy of the nighttime sky - and the shadow suddenly zapped to loom above the ocean’s shore. Panic gripped Takei and, almost in tune with his emotions, the waves ceased. There was no rhythm to the tide, no ocean to guide the force of the water, no current to drag against the grains of sand.
Takei lept from the salty water, feeling as though remaining it in it any longer would result in something dangerous happening. A few low words fell from his mouth in mingled confusion and fear, <b>“What the fuck?”</b> just before a loud crack sounded. It was not the obvious sound of thunder, but rather the crackling of a hundred lightning strikes, mingled with the bitterness of glass shattering, echoed by the sound of a pained cry, and wrapped with the low grumble of the earth splitting from the seams.
A shudder rippled through Takei’s body and panic grew into his throat like snapping, thick vines. The ocean lay before him as still as concrete for a moment longer, when suddenly the water rippled as something - someone - surfaced from the depths. The form mimicked the coppery red on Takei’s own body, though it was without the ivory that marked his. The figure was tall, mighty, muscular - the sight of a sturdy soldier. Although Takei had never met the stallion, he knew exactly who it was.
His grandfather.
An icy burn settled in his stomach. Hestoni had died when Takei had been four years old and he had always heard the stories (from both of his parents) of the vicious love he had held for Scorch. The Jungle stallion had been a role-model of Takei’s from the moment he had heard of his grandfather, yet his own reclusive personality did not allow him to follow in his brave footsteps.
The red man continued to walk from the depths of the still ocean, leaving no splash and no wake in his movement. Takei watched - muscles tense and heart thumping wildly - until Hestoni stopped just short of dry land. He could see his grandfather’s facial expression - it was unnaturally stern, with hard edges where there used to be curves and smiles. The end of his steps unleashed the wrath of the storm looming above their heads. As quickly as the waves had stopped their motion, the rain began. It was hard and cold, pouring on Takei’s head like a waterfall from winterlands.
He gasped as it struck his skin, feeling the sharpness of the cold bite into his nerves. A loud crack of the noise (the twist of thunder, glass, agony, and rubble) shuddered the air around the blood and ivory stallion and he jumped, this time his hooves splashed into the still ocean water. Another flash and Hestoni - his own grandfather - unleashed a roar like that of a dragon before his feathered legs stretched from the salty sea to slice at Takei.
A hidden word stretched out from the following growl (<i>“Run”</i>) but Takei was too absorbed in the gush of dark blood pouring from the wound Hestoni had opened across his chest. He twisted then, turning away from his beloved sea to race along the shoreline. The storm followed him, patient and calm in it’s steady pour of heavy, bitter rain, but Takei kept running until his legs gave out beneath him and he fell in a mess of sweat, blood, tears, rain, and hopelessness.
<center><b>&&&</b></center>
The cry of a seagull woke him. The sound scraped against his eardrum, piercing through the murkiness of his dreamless unconsciousness. Takei moaned, eyelids sliding open only to close again as the pain of the direct sunlight burned into his hazel eyes. The heavy weight that had led him to the beach had lifted, the confusion from the night before had melted into peace, and the rain had been replaced with a heat that caused his skin to itch deliciously.
It took him a moment, but eventually the chestnut and white stallion rose from his place on the sand. A perfect, clear ocean lay before him - the waves perfectly in place. A voice over his shoulder startled Takei. <i>“Do you have any fuckin’ idea where we are?”</i> It had been a black tobiano, perfect in stature and color. He was a direct contrast to Takei’s own coloring - a coppery red and bleached ivory against an inky black and papery white. <i>“I’m Orion,”</i> he introduced himself. The sun shone on his face like a spotlight and Takei couldn’t help but feel a hand reach down his throat and steal away his breath.
Orion continued speaking, gesturing toward the eleven others that had been placed on the shoreline as well. <i>“This is Scorpius”</i> - a brilliantly red stallion with a look of fire in his eyes - <i>“and Cassiopeia”</i> - a dappled mare who smiled like a delicate doll - <i>“and Draco”</i> - a deep shadowy stallion who bit out a sharp, <i>“I can introduce myself”</i> before Orion could continue - <i>“and Andromeda”</i> - a red roan watching the waves with a bewildered sort of fascination - <i>“and Ara”</i> - a golden woman standing near the rear of the group - <i>“and Cancer”</i> - a charming bay stallion with a smile that would win a thousand hearts - <i>“and Columba”</i> - an ivory mare with the blaze of passion in her gaze - <i>“and Corvus”</i> - another dark stallion who held deep hatred against the tightness of his lips - <i>“and Lyra”</i> - a blue roan with a barrel slightly swollen with a child not due for some time - <i>“and Phoenix”</i> - a stallion whose skin was puckered with scars from many fights - <i>“and finally, Hydra.”</i> The final was a grullo with warm curves to his face like that of an elderly grandfather.
Takei’s lungs quaked at the sight of so many faces. He’d remained in the shadows of Beqanna for most (if not, too much) of his life. The blood and ivory had been comfortable with his introverted lifestyle, spending some of his days in the woodlands but most of them chasing gulls or weaving between tide pools. Although he would have wished his voice more steady, it comes out shaky nonetheless. <b>“I’m Takei.”</b>
<center><b>&&&</b></center>
They would grow close. They discovered the island together (the island with it’s four habitats - the tropical forest with its beach counterpart, the rocky mountains sloping to the volcano in the center of it all, the quiet forest with its tranquil lake and wandering streams, the sweltering desert and the comfortable oasis in the center), breaking off into groups, but always returning to the beach from whence they came.
The thirteen had tried to piece together their purpose and the island’s purpose. Often Takei would find Lyra staring out toward the horizon of the ocean with a look of longing in her pretty coffee eyes. Each week she seemed to move slower as her belly grew rounder and that stretching womb only further reminded Takei that the other twelve had families past the endless waves.
His parents had raised him with a unique sort of endearment. It edged on the corners of love, but never quite reached. Takei spent all of his childhood chasing after that sweet taste of affection, yet he always fell just short of it. Each time he fell, he sobbed into the dirty ground a few moments longer. It built up an emptiness in his chest, a deep darkness that could not be undone easily.
Yet Orion had prode at that darkness with tender, brave fingers. Takei had shied away, at first (how could his quiet personality ever compare to Orion’s dazzling light?) but eventually he found himself curled close to the ink and paper stallion among the gentle hum of the tropical nights. Orion became the balm to his scarred, broken knees (scarred and broken from those countless, weary failings) and Takei wrapped himself in the cloak of his affection.
Their first time had been blissful. The day had been a warm one so all thirteen had gone for a swim at the beach. They had splashed in the comfort of the bay, snorting at the fish that swam by warily. As the sun fell, all but two retreated to the warmth of the tropical fronds. The best of sleeping places were closest to the volcano, where the molten lava and brewing flames brought sympathy against the chill of night.
Orion and Takei lingered still, dancing around one another in the inky shallows of the lapping waves. There had only been sly kisses before - a tender touch to the hip, a gentle grasp of a lock of mane, a quick slide of one flank against another - but as the moon rose, there was nothing sly about their actions. The bitterness of cold did not linger on their sweaty bodies. Kisses and sultry nips and bruised bite marks wove among both of their patchwork frames.
Takei felt choked with the amount of affection he gave and received. When they both settled from the adrenaline (when the blood climbed down from atop the shadow) their bodies wove among one another in gentle caresses until sleep carried them away.
<center><b>&&&</b></center>
They spent weeks this way - enjoying all the island had to offer during the day, enjoying all one another had to offer during the night. The wound from his grandfather - a constant reminder of the night it all began - healed into a ragged, puckered scar against the red and white of his chest. Each night, Orion would dip his head down to gently kiss that blemish and each night Takei would find his chin craning toward the sky. It became a heavenly routine, one where Takei felt no reservations about saying those three words to his ink and paper companion: <b>“I love you.”</b>
Thankfully, there was a similar reply back.
They always slept together, bodies intertwined among the twinkling stars, almost as a reassurance. When Takei awoke one morning to find the absence of his lover, he tried not to fret. Orion had probably snuck off in the early morning to dote over Lyra and her swollen womb, or perhaps check and make sure Corvus had not destroyed his knees trying to climb to the volcano’s summit. It was undeniable the black tobiano was the strong, supporting head of their closely-knit band, and Takei had woken upon several occasions to find his lover servicing to one task or another.
But as the day waned on, the blood and ivory man found himself increasingly more concerned. He gathered the thirteen with a nervous call throughout the island, and as the sun began to descend into the ocean they met upon the same shores they had come from. <b>“Have any of you seen Orion today?”</b> Takei’s voice had grown stronger among his newfound family over the weeks and he felt no shame in the way his voice cracked with mingled urgency and anxiety. The feeling of fear ate away at his insides like a gnawing infection, spreading throughout his body to make him feel jittery and feverish.
A resounding <i>“no”</i> came from the twelve gathered and Takei took initiative. <b>“We have not seen any predators on this island since we came here and we all know Orion would not abandon us.”</b> The stallion took in a deep breath to steel his nerves. <b>“We must search the island - every corner of it - to find him… He could be in danger.”</b> Despite the deep love held in Takei’s heart, some degree of affection was felt in every soul for the ink and paper leader of their band of misfits.
And so they turned and entered the thick of the tropical jungle just as the sun’s curve kissed the horizon.
</div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; color: #000; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom: 10px;text-shadow: 0px 0px 6px #b45b3d;">watch the mind run far away, way ahead of us</div></center>