10-12-2019, 08:40 PM
Has Popinjay ever been quiet?
Has she ever been still?
She goes to follow Celina into the cave for a drink, and yet, she doesn't move, and it takes several minutes for her to realize she is not moving. Her pallid companion is already turning to speak when it happens, she is saying words, but Poppy doesn't hear them, and though she decides again to join the younger filly at the water, she still goes nowhere, grey hooves planted firmly against grey rock.
The rock is absorbing her!
A bubble of panic is rising in her throat, the sting of sweat prickling the sides of her neck, her flanks, and a terrified squeal rips past her lips. With too much effort, she launches herself off the ground, all four feet pulling away from the hungry stone underfoot as if it is thick mud. Her landing is clumsy and clattering and her hooves throw small stones in all directions as she races with no coordination to join Celina by the dark water at the back of the cave. Her disjointed gait sends her to her knees roughly in the still pool and she stays there for a moment, eyes rolling wildly but catching on nothing. Her breath comes quick and ragged, her heart races, the chilled water cools her, lapping gently at her chest.
She takes a breathless drink, eyes blinking in slow motion. There is a mineral taste in her mouth and she drinks more but it only gets worse. A taste of sulphur and iron and calcium. She shakes her head, spraying droplets of the water she still kneels in everywhere, and drinks more. The tang in her mouth only worsens, until she smells it, lingering on her skin, on the rocks, in the water itself.
"What is that taste? she gasps between drinks to Celina, who wobbles and stares at the trees outside as though they have uprooted themselves and are dancing about, "Why can't I get it out of my mouth?"
She drinks until she can hold no more, until, if she were not a horse, she might vomit it all back up across the cave floor. She drinks until her belly aches and then she kicks at it, forgetting that she is kneeling precariously. The second her hind lifts forward, the other slips on the smooth mineral deposits beneath the inky surface and she splashes down completely.
This time the dark filly rockets up, spluttering, snorting, and crashes into a rocky wall, scraping hair from her hide, but finally ceasing motion, simply letting the cool stone cover her and absorb her until she is one with it, until she is part of it. She is the cave now, her mouth its mouth, her feet its roots deep in the blackest earth where only the strangest creatures live. She laughs, because the gloworms tickle her ears when they crawl across her ceiling, but then she chokes, because Celina is still standing on her tongue.
"Hey," she murmurs, stony and ancient, "ge'off my tongue, Celina."
But the white filly doesn't react quickly enough.
So she swallows her.
Has she ever been still?
She goes to follow Celina into the cave for a drink, and yet, she doesn't move, and it takes several minutes for her to realize she is not moving. Her pallid companion is already turning to speak when it happens, she is saying words, but Poppy doesn't hear them, and though she decides again to join the younger filly at the water, she still goes nowhere, grey hooves planted firmly against grey rock.
The rock is absorbing her!
A bubble of panic is rising in her throat, the sting of sweat prickling the sides of her neck, her flanks, and a terrified squeal rips past her lips. With too much effort, she launches herself off the ground, all four feet pulling away from the hungry stone underfoot as if it is thick mud. Her landing is clumsy and clattering and her hooves throw small stones in all directions as she races with no coordination to join Celina by the dark water at the back of the cave. Her disjointed gait sends her to her knees roughly in the still pool and she stays there for a moment, eyes rolling wildly but catching on nothing. Her breath comes quick and ragged, her heart races, the chilled water cools her, lapping gently at her chest.
She takes a breathless drink, eyes blinking in slow motion. There is a mineral taste in her mouth and she drinks more but it only gets worse. A taste of sulphur and iron and calcium. She shakes her head, spraying droplets of the water she still kneels in everywhere, and drinks more. The tang in her mouth only worsens, until she smells it, lingering on her skin, on the rocks, in the water itself.
"What is that taste? she gasps between drinks to Celina, who wobbles and stares at the trees outside as though they have uprooted themselves and are dancing about, "Why can't I get it out of my mouth?"
She drinks until she can hold no more, until, if she were not a horse, she might vomit it all back up across the cave floor. She drinks until her belly aches and then she kicks at it, forgetting that she is kneeling precariously. The second her hind lifts forward, the other slips on the smooth mineral deposits beneath the inky surface and she splashes down completely.
This time the dark filly rockets up, spluttering, snorting, and crashes into a rocky wall, scraping hair from her hide, but finally ceasing motion, simply letting the cool stone cover her and absorb her until she is one with it, until she is part of it. She is the cave now, her mouth its mouth, her feet its roots deep in the blackest earth where only the strangest creatures live. She laughs, because the gloworms tickle her ears when they crawl across her ceiling, but then she chokes, because Celina is still standing on her tongue.
"Hey," she murmurs, stony and ancient, "ge'off my tongue, Celina."
But the white filly doesn't react quickly enough.
So she swallows her.
