-- Insignificance is dramatically flawed. Every fiber in her frame is wrought carefully, yet one omission to perfection and she has fallen from grace – she has not known the beneficial hand of precision – whatever accomplishments she has created have been ruined by her one mar; all her deeds laid bare and struck with scorn.
Her one flaw was this; she was intelligent. She was too crafty for her own good, to be cliché. She had a terrible mind; in the darkness she thought of all things occult and in the sunrise she thought of all things unsettling.
I wandered—I had always been a wanderer (always? I am not that old)—and this time it brought me here. Here is familiar and at the same time it´s not - I have let the years take from me what should have been remembered. The feel of the place makes my skin crawl—but whether it was with pleasure or distaste and uneasiness not even I could say. It was a mixture of both; a magnet that pulled me, like a sliver of lead, to its center.
I creep through the outskirts like a villain, an unkempt speck of brown dirt against the shadows of nightfall until I end up on a riverbank. It is still wet from spring-showers and I have to wade through the mire to quench my thirst. Ofcourse, I had not expected better - the slab clings to my legs like an old friend, and perhaps it is. I suspiciously scan my surroundings - trying to find a reasonable explanation to myself as to why I´ve come returned here but alas - there is nothing. No memories to haunt me, no familiar faces among the crowd - only a low humming against the back of my mind that somehow - I belong here. Although why is inexorably unclear judging by the rest of the lot that seem to inhabit these lands. Inconsequential and drab in coat, I do not particularly insight rumors of grandeur
My hair has grown long over the years, falling past the line of my jaw and obscuring a scabbed wound alongside it (another precious gift from this wretched place). It is the color of candlelight on a dark sheet, neither here nor there and impossible to render on paper. But the shape of me is similar, taut sinew on loose bones and graceless carriage. My ribs are still laid out like piano keys, carefully outlined under the mud-brown pelt. There is too much of my skeleton to be seen, and the stiff joints that hold it in place.
I look frail, and not for the first time.
"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for."
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
The time has passed me by with an ever growing sense of hopelessness and surrender. Each day as I wake from fitful sleep, the cold dread replaces its grasp on my innards. Nothing is going back to the way it was, nothing familiar is showing up in the scenery, or the air, or my mind, and nothing is helping me to return to the peace I once was proud of within myself.
I remember the little girl I used to be, standing under Kavi and showing stoicism and gravity. I remember the calmness, the coolness, the collectedness, and yet that memory is not enough to envoke the same characteristics within myself now. Now, I am a leaf - manipulated by the wind and crushed under foot, pretty to look at but as insubstantial as poorly held together dust.
I cannot continue like this, else I shall decompose entirely.
My finely shaped legs haul me from the thicket near the river as if the body they carried were dead, and not alive. Sluggish, forlorn. But my instincts kick in once I have completely exited my forested niche, and my small ears prick up at the soft sounds of conversation and running water. Soon, the nutmeg flecks in my eyes are flashing more energetically, thankful for the stimulus after such a long time spent hidden in the darkness.
Padding softly upstream, I listen more than look for an area where I can take a drink without being disturbed. My youth is evident in my figure, which, though womanly, is too fresh to be older than three years. Eventually I find a quiet spot and walk to the river's edge, bowing my refined red neck to take a drink. The coursing water is cool and refreshing, and I drink deep and long. I don't remember the last time I came out for water; too long, I'm thinking.
The water hits my stomach with each gulp, a strange sensation that speaks to how little I've been eating. If my sides have become thinner, I'm only noticing now; my ribs are just slightly defined, the beginnings of hunger showing on my overo frame. I'll fix that - I won't go into hiding again.
It is as I am about to turn and leave that I notice her - the bay mare standing some ways off, stone still and silent in the shallows of the river. Although I had been purposely avoiding company, the draw of the quiet woman is undeniable - the idea of a company as soft as mine more than tempting. I set a hoof down into the water and walk towards her.
"Hi," I say softly, stopping at a polite distance from the figure. "I'm Kagerus." I try out a smile, but my lips twitch and my confidence falters. I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, I don't know what the point of any of this is. Tears prickle my eyes but I push them back, my voice trembling with the next words out of my mouth. "I... I don't know what to say next."
-- Wandering was one thing that the two mares had in common. It seems as if Insignificance had not been so much running - in the literal sense of the word - from someone or something but merely from herself and her memories. While time plundered on unrelenting in its fierce hold upon her she sought to remember and forget everything. Joy waxing and waning as time passes and the world turns slowly.
And then there had been nothing but darkness and night for as long as she could remember. No longer a firefly though, she clung to the folds of darkness drawing it around her like a traveler would a familiar worn and friendly cloak and she settled into her routine of being a nightwalker.
Still night did not last forever, she would find herself still out staring at the stars as if they held all the answers in the world until the late hours of the night met and greeted the early hours of the morning. There were even days when she would find herself in the midst of a glorious sunrise that should have brought her to her knees weeping of the beauty. But that was childish, a childish lust of beauty and grace that did not belong to her. No, Insignificance was not a beauty and would never be. Too harsh of lines and angles skewed the curves of her body and too often a trip and a stumble would land her looking rather like the child she was not anymore.
Soon there is light as the first rays of the sun finger the waters never stilling surface. But this morning, for the first morning in a long time, I do not draw away from the light. I stay, submerged to my knees in the changing river water eyes half-closed and head flung to the sky as if in prayer to forces I don't believe in. I hear her before I see her, the steady beating of hooves and heart and wind through flared nostrils. A pang of panic ricochets through my body and my eyes fly open. I had not expected company (fool, you fool, you fool.) but there is something about the heedful footfall of the other that eases my tense muscles back into relaxation.
Familiar is the first thing I think of as the other mare gingerly steps into the same river that I have perched myself in. She is young - and there´s the mark of dreamers on her brow. I shrug the thought away - impossible. I am quite certain that I have never seen this childmare before. (too many years in hiding)
There is something endearing about her gaunt appearance, and unknowingly my mouth curls upwards in a tentative mirroring of her own fleeting smile. It´s an unfamiliar gesture, something that makes me uneasy - I have never been the cheerful type. I don´t know either... I think - something about the weather maybe - I deadpan - but my words come out softer than I had expected. There is something about her that puts my mind at ease - though I cannot really point out what. Kagerus - the name rings no bells in my wrecked memory, and why should it? I can´t even seem to remember what I´m doing standing in this river. My name is Insignificance... and I am lost. I admit, perhaps more to myself than to her.
And that´s that - two lost souls standing in the midst of a river trying to remember the act of socializing.
I have a prickling sensation that I am failing miserably at this.
"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for."
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Her panic at my approach both endears me to her and causes me my own fear. My hooves shuffle beneath the surface of the river, my attempt at expending the nervous energy that is threatening to overflow the barriers I have made for it. Where there is fear, there is danger - but this gaunt, wandering mare is far from danger, and besides, the child I was before wouldn't have even been frightened by the most intimidating of horses. I resent myself for changing.
The sun has begun to kiss our ears and shoulder blades, its warm embrace almost foreign to me now. I blink, the three subtle leopard spots below my right eye distorting with the movement. The sensation jogs my memory, and events from days past seem almost as if they were yesterday. The Jungle floor with Kavi watching me explore; the Chamber's rocky landscape daring me higher and higher along its ridges. A jolt of heartache causes my windpipe to close, and for a moment, I am lost completely to the situation I am presently in.
Her words bring me back.
My nutmeg eyes catch the last of her fleeting smile, and my ears perk up to accept her conversation. She deadpans that we ought to talk about the weather, and the smile I had tried on before returns more earnestly. Though softly spoken, the tawny mare has more resilience than she gives herself credit for, and I appreciate that. My composure loosens, the tense, hungry muscles relaxing around my bones.
"No clouds today," I reply, though my voice is more light and humorous than hers. The ways of my past are slowly returning to me. "Good day for... Sunbathing." At this, I try my best to keep a straight face, but I let another smile widen my visage. The awkward tension between the two of us is tangible and lovely, a sort of introverted peacocking that left us both looking like fools, or at least, I'm sure that I look the fool. But I don't mind. Despite our evident lack of conversational skills, the mare puts me at ease with her soft words and fleeting smiles.
She introduces herself then, and speaks with the same cadence as I have, pronouncing herself lost. A pang of empathy runs through me - perhaps amplified, felt more, thanks to my namesake's genetic empathy. Kagerou, grandmother. I never met her; but I know she was brave, that she ruled the land of amazonian warrior women, that she led charges in wars and defended the needy. The recollection of the mare (who looked so much like me, though I've only been told so) steels my spine, and I step out of the river on the opposite bank of the one which I entered from.
"I am going to call you Sig, if you don't mind. Our meeting was very significant to me." Some semblance of my former stoicism and courage has returned to me, as I stand there, looking behind myself at the lost woman. "Follow me, and we'll go out into the open, where we will feel less lost. While we walk, you can tell me about yourself."
-- Insignificance – all awkward angles and mousey brown skin. With the indecision of a wanderer in her eye; a faint glimmer under a blanket of indifference. If only she knew – what wicked web faith has spun for her today. Then perhaps those walls of carefully constructed stoicism would snap like a twig. The consequences of being her, alas.
The bustle of the waking river has passed me by completely. I see nothing, hear nothing except the words of my peculiar companion – the sensation of amity a warm rivulet of hope coursing through my veins and something awakens inside of me. Something that has been slumbering for far too long. I close my eyes briefly – and there´s a flash of memory so fleeting I barely register it. A name, no a face. A friend. I open them again in frustration and she smiles: earnest and light and I cannot help but laugh at her words – it´s an unfamiliar sound, that laughter of mine - feral and wild and strangely beautiful. ”Sunbathing? As long as we keep out of the mud I am content”
I curiously watch the mottled mare as she gradually turns from deer caught in the headlights to something else. She may not look like much - but there is a spark of conviction in her eye that tells another story. A small glimmer ignited by something unknown - and there it remains, a fire shining more brightly than a thousand suns. It inspires something in me, there is something eerily familiar with this girl – something that begs me to unravel her mysteries.
”Sig” I echo – tasting the name - ”I think I quite like that name”
walk with me – tell me of your story
A remnant of silver lingers on my back, daybreak steadily taunting my eyes and clinging to the ashy, unkempt roughness in my mane as we walk – side by side – two sad figures leaving mud and riverbed behind for greater adventures. My hooves travel without apology over the soil that gradually changes underfoot. I know this, have enough traction and felt too many fields to know when the Land changes from barren and unruly to inhabitable. I catch a gust of zephyr and I am not unfamiliar with the secrets it bears to its breast; I have readiness and the cunning mind of experience—these being my only tools of trade, and I know well the secrets this land holds. (or used to know)
”I don´t really know if I have a story anymore. I think, no I´m sure that I used to live here. It´s just so…frustratingly different and I cannot seem to figure out how it all fits together. I remember having a home, and friends but I cannot seem to remember their names. And I have no reasonable explanation as to why I left or why I´m even back here”
I pause just barely enough to catch my breath after the flurry of words that escapes my lips like a caged bird tasting its first days of freedom.
”I suppose you could say my life has been altogether uneventful since then”
I shrug – a sad, pointless gesture.
”But what of you? Are you from here?”
Maybe, just maybe – she can help me remember.
"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for."
Having grown up in a land of debauchery and lust he had learned many tricks from his mother and father. Only a little over a year now, his knowledge of all these things were far greater than anyone his age should know. His parents were not shy about such activities, as were none in Sylva. So he quickly picked up on the languages of both body and speech. Testing his skills on mares of young and old. He wasn't particular to any age. Sylva grew boring eventually. Same old horses, different day. So he decided to set out to explore the unexplored edges of his world.
Hearing that Hyaline was a kingdom for fresh minds he opted to head in that direction. Skirting around the outer edge of the bordering kingdom. Bringing him into the commonlands of the river. His cream coat glistened in the summer sun. Contrasted edges of inky black made him eye catching to most that he passed. What he lacked in height was made up by the bulk of his well muscled body. A product of his lineage. The muscles of his broad chest flexed as he walked along a beaten path. Nares drawing in deep breathes of air littered with others scents. Hazel eyes roamed over the scenery he passed with little interest in the backdrop of forest. An opening through the trees catches his attention though. It wasn't often he found a place that lacked the shelter of the trees in vast expanse. Typically it was a break in the canopy here and there.
Ebony limbs move him steadily towards an open field. Looking out he can see groups of equines gathered together. A particular pair - just emerging from the forest - catches his interest. The breeze brings their scents to him. Marking them mares. Ebony lips pull into a one sided grin as his eyes scan over their physique. He does not hear the details of their conversation but decides to interject. Meandering casually over to where the pair finally come to rest. His voice smooth as honey, "Good day Ladies. How are we on this fine afternoon?" Hazel eyes shift from one face to the next. Collecting their answers for further conversation...
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Her laughter is as unkempt as her wanderer's mind, full of loose ends and unlike most everything else in this land. I hope to hear more immediately after the last trill hits my ears, more of this strange and lovely woman's mirth. Even now, as she echoes the name I have bestowed upon her, I can see the change being brought around just behind her eyes. Her change is perhaps not as extreme as my own - but her willingness to talk, to walk, to be my (friend? Companion?), is a far cry from the skittish mare I met not twenty minutes ago.
Our thin muscles are working in tandem as we enter the river's clearing, our ears and eyes perking and responding to the new stimulus as one. I feel as though an unspoken bond has been formed between us, one that is timeless and strong. The openness is at once exciting and unnerving, yet I draw calmness and a sense of security from Sig. We are two mares, small and vulnerable, in an open place: but the sisterhood between her and I, at least in this single situation, if felt fiercely on my part.
She speaks now, as we are traversing the changing earth. Her flurry of words would have been for the wind's ears alone had I not been paying especially close attention, but I do not mind. The mystery she finds herself in is intriguing and admirable - again I reflect back to the skittish woman I met at the river bed, growing ever surer that our meeting was not coincidence. She asks me of myself, but I share my thoughts on her story before delving into my own.
"I know how you feel, and I have something of an explanation that might help. I'm not exactly sure how, or when, but Beqanna changed. The kingdoms changed, the lands changed; only some common grounds were left unscathed, such as the meadow." I glance at the mare, trying to see if I am anywhere near the target with this conversational arrow. "I lived in the Chamber, then he Jungle. There was also the Valley, the Dale, the Deserts, the Gates, the Falls, and the Tundra." I make an expression that conveys my attempt at helpfulness, but my awareness that it probably was not helpful at all. "Maybe that will help jog your memory."
I laugh then, a lyrical sound, low and calm and flowing. "I suppose that answers your question. But truthfully, my home has always been by my father's side - his name was Kavi. I-is Kavi. Was?" I grimace, averting my gaze in a mixture of embarrassment and fear of looking the fool. "Anyway. I haven't seen him since the change."
I am opening my mouth to speak again when a young stallion interrupts us. My eyes immediately bypass his good looks when I see the way he is looking at us - us, the two dirtiest, skinniest, weakest mares in this whole damn set up. If I had run across the silver stallion before my meeting with Sig, I would have run. Now, that thread of sisterhood between us steels my spine to its original formidity.
"We were better when you weren't imagining us underneath of you." The words are steely and cold, maliceful. My legs are moving forward, putting me a pace in front of my friend, protecting her, standing up for her. My ears are pinned, eyes flashing. "So wipe that grin off your face and shove off, stud."
Two shapes moved across an open field. Neither had a name.
It is with an odd sense of familiarity that I fall into her steps, as if I belong there. Tucked beneath the protection of a figmental wing – indifferent to the rest of the world as long as I am with her. It is almost as if we belong together – two hapless, hopeless figures lost to the eminence that reigns here.
I am lulled into a false sense of security by the soothing sound of her voice – the lands changed, of course – what a perfectly plausible explanation to my lack of memories. Even the names of the lands seem familiar to my battered ears – Chamber, Valley, I know those places.
At her last words however, I stop – so sudden that I might have toppled over, had I not caught my step the very last moment. Slung into terror by the familiar, spiraling feeling of realization. As I breathe (suddenly it has become an effort, a pining wheeze that rolls against the walls of my lungs and struggles to remain) tiny pieces and fractions of memory recollect, puzzle-like and pointless at first.
Kavi
The memory of him bring fire-hot tears to my eyes– realizing how much I have missed his boy’s heart and his sweet words; for the gentleness he brought to the surface like dew, for the secrets we shared next to a sighing forest and his touch like rain… But you left himI realize this and the pain resurfaces anew, and it is guilt that now softens the lines of my face, and in regaining myself I am childlike and small once again.
I grasp, struggle to find my breath as through I have been submerged in the winter-dark waters that placidly lull underneath thick blankets of ice. It is as though I have resurfaced from some pseudo-death, ripe with revelation and terror. And it is my turn to retrace my steps, to shy away from the sunfire-eyes of my companion (they seem swollen with infinity, they seem so familiar),
”Kavi” I whisper and the name burns white-hot on my lips.
But there is no time for explanations – the syrupy-sweet voice of another breaks into the cotton of my hazy mind, and I can feel the muscles of Kagerus stiffen beside me. Fight or flight
For a moment – I am thankful – I don´t think my fragile mind could take much more tonight, but I immediately tense up as her words fly through the air like hurricanes on a lazy summer day. I lift my head – still struck with confusion and watch the boy responsible of turning my sweet companion into a lioness. Barely older than a colt – despite his precocious words. My flinty gaze softens a little – and I press a reassuring muzzle into the shoulder of my company. ”He´s just a foal, he won´t hurt us” I whisper, naïve to the dirty minds of stallions. No-one ever laid eyes upon plain, old Insignificance. I force myself to meet his gaze then, and the dull of my eyes shine with torment above a struggling smile. ”You won´t hurt us, will you?” How I wish I could be an echo of the content, peaceful creature I was just moments before! "Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for."
Lost in conversation, the pair seemed to have had a life long friendship. Little did he know how much of strangers they had been. The way, as he came to stand near them, the spotted mare comes to shield her partner. As if he was some sort of threat. Her gaurding stance was followed by harsh and hate-laced words. His smirk, as she commands it to, vanishes. One brow rises as in confusion at her distaste. Who the hell pissed in her oats, he thinks to himself.
The slender bay mare reaches for her companion in comfort. Her words much more kind and delicate. Though her announcement of his apparent youth causes him to frown. Foal! Who you calling foal lady?! He dismiss it and his smile returns with an apology, "I'm sorry. Have I done something wrong? I simply asked if you were having a nice day." Hazel eyes look to the bay now, "Why would I hurt you?" He answers her question with a question of his own. What had he done that warranted such caution?
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Kagerus had been about to question Sig about her sudden inability to walk, and her whispering of Kag's father's name, before they were so rudely interrupted. A thousand questions and thoughts were racing through the Arabian's mind: did she know where he was? Was he okay? Could she take her to him? But it is not to be. Sig's panic, her whirlwind change from calm back to fearful cannot be addressed yet - and it torments Kagerus ever further, causing her aggression to rise and rise.
(So, uh, I forgot that I write this character in first person. AHEM).
My hind hoof stomps the ground in irritation as Sig presses her muzzle gently to my shoulder, her reassurance all but lost on me. I do, however, step closer to her, closing the distance between us, hoping that my physical proximity will help to steady the girl's nerves. For someone who started at the sound of me, she is trusting of this man - his man, of all people. While I may have been raised by a single father, he taught me the way that young stallion's minds are wont to function. And I have no intention of allowing that function to be extrapolated from either Sig or me.
She whispers to me, and I must respond. The tendril of trust that connects us is so new, so fresh, that even despite its strength, I know I cannot ignore her. I stomp my foot again, snapping my black tail. "He is of age," I whisper back, though I know full well that the colt can probably hear us. "And hurting us is not what plagues his mind."
The stallion then, whose smile has obediently disappeared, speaks up. He apologizes, though he seems ignorant as to his transgressions. Men. I relax my head from its elevated position, though my ears and stay pinned and my words are clipped. "You have not done anything wrong yet, but I advise against pursuing your train of thought if you wish to keep it that way." I step to he left then, aiming to move around he cream-coloured man. I stop and look back to make sure Sig is following me. "As it is, my friend and I were on the way to the field. Meet us there if you have something more political in mind."
And so I begin walking, itching and nearly dancing in my need to ask Sig about my father. I must know.
Kagerus
sweet nothing
Sanna, I was thinking they could head to the field and be recruited together?? If not you could post in the meadow and continue the thread there!
Neo, if Kasanova wants to recruit them he should meet them there!! Kag won't have a stick up her butt I promise
