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Written in the Sands - the aftermath - Printable Version

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Written in the Sands - the aftermath - AuroraElis - 02-19-2018

It hurts.  Everything hurts.  The acidic air around her collapses her lungs as each beat of her own heart shatters in the cage that confines it.  It's funny how someone with the ability to heal finds solace in suffering.

She had laid with him for literal days.  His body began to expand and boil in the mid of day but still she remained at his side.  Only when she found that laying there only caused more pain did she rise.  Limbs weakened from unuse and dehydration.  Each stride carrying her from his remains was with struggle.  Internal compass pointed her to what she needed most, water.  The little fodder she had survived off of for those days hadn't sated her thirst in the slightest but she hadn't cared.  Not when she had lost the love of her life.

She finds a water source and presses her dried lips to it's surface.  Drawing in deep gulps between breaths.  Her tears could return now.  With a sigh she lifts her face to view her surroundings.  Nothing in Tephra was as beautiful as it had been before.  Even a Picasso painted sun set looked drab.  That's when she decides it was time to go.  Home was where the heart was, and her heart was no longer here... 

AuroraElis

Not all that Glitters is Gold



RE: Written in the Sands - the aftermath - Warrick - 02-19-2018

like the sun swallowed up by the earth
He finds her at the edge of one of their lava-warmed rivers, her brilliant wings glittering in the intense Tephran sun. a dazzling display of color and beauty. He hadn’t seen her in a long while, he muses to himself as he approaches cautiously, concern on the Overseer’s face as he notices the lack of grooming to her coat and the sullen look in her eyes. His heart grips tight in his chest as he roves over the possibilities - what has happened that has brought her in this state back into Tephra? She is tear-stained and weary, from traveling and from something else that lingers in the stillness of the humid air, nearly palpable as he walks slowly to stand on the other side of the stream, dark eyes wide with concern and fear.

Warrick’s blue wings shuffle at his sides, letting his presence be made known just in case she hadn’t heard him approach. Her mind seems elsewhere, her eyes looking at her surroundings but gazing past them, as if trying to see something that was not there. The Overseer lowers his head as if he is about to drink as well, but stops a few inches above the slow-moving water to nicker lowly to her, ears flicking towards her.

“Aurora?” he breathes her name, his throat tightening. “Aurora, what has happened?” Warrick’s heart hammers in his chest - perhaps it is something he will be able to easily fix. Besides, Tangerine has not told him of any ill visions, and perhaps that meant her sadness is something far less disconcerting than what he is imagining.

But something tells him that his instincts are correct - death and destruction has found its way into their home, and into Aurora’s heart.
Warrick


RE: Written in the Sands - the aftermath - AuroraElis - 02-19-2018

The clip of his steps are silenced by the wailing cries in her mind.  Her once bright eyes, foggy as they turn to her name light in the wind.  It pained her to hear it in another tongue that was not her lover.  A customary smile the mare offered freely to all was lost somewhere in the depths of her battered soul.  Not to surface, even for the Overseer of Tephra.

Blinking the glassy haze from her view, she sees the unmistakable form of the stallion.  The navy in his wings, similar to the navy in her own plumage.  Their usual brilliance dulled by the lack of upkeep as of late.  He looks at her with knowing eyes but she offers him his answer, "He's gone Warrick.  Rou is gone." 

She hadn't needed to elaborate where.  Anyone would be able to tell by her sorrowed existence where he had gone.  She knew their leader to be wise, so she leaves it at that.  Turning her frail body, she looks to the channel she had crossed so many years ago.  When Rou had invited her here to stay with him.  Just across it was the beginnings of a new chapter in her book.  One without Rou, without Tephra...

AuroraElis

Not all that Glitters is Gold



RE: Written in the Sands - the aftermath - Warrick - 02-19-2018

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
His heart breaks; it shatters.

He knew it had to be this. It just made sense - Ellyse, gone. Offspring, gone. Why not take a few more on the wind? He suddenly, somehow, feels unsafe in his own home - as if the tight grip of death will soon strike again, to someone else, and he must somehow stop it. He is not sure when, but he had parted the waters with his broad chest, soaked his feathers in the warmth of the river, and came out on the other side nearest to her. He is no longer a regal and winged stallion with the wisest of looks on his face, but he is a broken man, grieving yet another loss of one of his closest friends.

Aurora has turned her lean body away from him, the ghost of her voice echoing in his mind and breaking his heart more impossibly so. For a moment he is strong - he stands beside her as the towering Overseer, a bold and regal representation of Tephra. He is meant to be a steadying presence for her, to comfort her in her time of need, and for a moment, he is successful. But, just for a fleeting second, he wavers - he blinks confusedly, his brow furrowing as the threat of heat in his eyes comes to the surface, his mouth turning downwards into an ugly frown. He ruffles his wings, as if trying to settle himself, but he is unable to do so.

Coupled with everything else, the news of Diable Rouge's death is is too much.

His legs buckle purposely, and the great king lowers himself into the golden grasses of his homeland. They are nearly above his head, swaying delicately in the Tephran breeze. Once there, he rests his chin on his chest, folding his wings against his sides, and feels the warmth of steady tears fleeing from his eyes.
Warrick


@[AuroraElis]

RE: Written in the Sands - the aftermath - wound - 02-19-2018

H
er life is simple right now. It’s busy, but simple. No harm has come to her family, her daughter is bewildering but dearly-loved, Tephra is thriving and her duties are purposeful. Wound hasn’t experienced tragedy past the difficulties of her childhood. She has never felt the sensation of her heart splintering within her chest or the hot threat of tears behind her coffee eyes or the sour feeling of dread and pain in her stomach.

She finds them broken at her feet.

The taste of grief is thick on her tongue as Wound approaches. She is just reaching them as Warrick collapses into the Tephra earth and suddenly she is rushing toward them, steps light but limping. “Warrick!” Her voice calls across the quickly-diminishing distance, but she stops when she realizes he is physically fine — but tears soak his face.

She stops suddenly, nearly throwing herself off-balance by how quickly her feet stop her. She takes in the situation for a moment (the hard lines on Aurora’s face, the weeping grimace of Warrick, the thickness of grief in the air). Then she is rushing again, heart aching but not shattered, to comfort them.

She doesn’t ask about the situation. Her nose reaches to touch Warrick’s thick crest, to nip at the entanglement of his mane. Despite not knowing the situation yet, a few tears trickle past her coffee eyes. Then she leans toward Aurora and embraces her friend in a warm hug. She doesn’t say much else, allowing them time to tell her on their own, but her comfort and support is tangible.
credit to nat of adoxography.

@[Warrick] @[AuroraElis]

RE: Written in the Sands - the aftermath - AuroraElis - 02-20-2018

A carmel twist to hear the great stallions descent into the water.  The smooth trickle of parting wake stretching to lap at the shores behind him.  Her eyes remain where she longed to go but her limbs did not reach for it.  Not yet. 

She hears him climbed up onto the land again.  A heavied weight of soaked feathers she is very accustomed to are brought to his sides as he nears somberly.  Holding onto his strength as long as he could in an attempt to comfort her, but she is far from consolable.

Only when his strength wavers does her eyes turn to find him crumbling onto the ground.  It is the slightest turn of her head from her defeated posture that bringing the sight of the Overseer to her.  Now mingled with the earth of his kingdom.  

Another voice of concern is found in her ears and it is familiar.  That's funny, had she forgotten she had friends here?  The limped stride of the form approaching confirmed to her that she did.  Unknowing strife riddled her face and she knew the mare was unaware of the news.  She hadn't the heart to break another, not today.  

For a brief moment the kind mare gesture felt strangely comforting, even though it was not the embrace of her soulmate.  Her smile still amiss as a tear rolled down her cheek again.  Wounds want to comfort the grieving pair is admirable.  She would have done the same at one time, but not this time.  Her solemn voice, barely audible bids farewell, "I'm sorry Warrick.  Truly I am.  But I can't stay here.  Without Rou... It's just not home." Sunken eyes lifting to her friend she adds, "If our...my..." She winced at the words, "son, Phebous returns, can you tell him I've gone to look for him?  I'll visit in the spring again." She musters the strength to extend her muzzle to the mare in a goodbye, before leading off to return once again to the commonlands... 

AuroraElis

Not all that Glitters is Gold



@[Warrick] @[wound]

RE: Written in the Sands - the aftermath - Warrick - 02-21-2018

we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
Another has found them (he can hear their hooves against the ground, their body as they brush through the tall and swaying gold of Tephra’s grasslands), and he does not begin to move. The Overseer is stricken with grief and too weak to move from his quiet spot on the ground, even when the familiar voice of Wound permeates through the air, and even when her mouth comfortingly brushes his neck in confusion and sympathy.

Aurora is gone - not physically, but Warrick can tell by the methodical tone to her voice that she is not present with them but merely an observer, numb to the pain she has already accepted. Warrick, however, is still wrought with grief and pain, realizing that his heart had not been wrung this tight since his mother and his twin sister’s sudden disappearance on the mountain, where he had been left as a young stallion to create a new life for himself. This, for whatever reason, somehow seems so much worse. Diable Rouge had been through too much to have faded so soon - his life had finally been turned right, despite the death of his adopted son. Warrick found a true friend and confidante within the other man, and to know now that he has passed on despite all of his efforts, leaves the winged stallion in a spiral of emotions.

Warrick’s tears fall silently and with deep breaths, wondering if Diable Rouge had been alone in his sickness and death, or if there had been the comforting face of AuroraElis to ease him into the next life. His breath catches as he thinks of Svedka and Solace, of Tangerine, and how his family will bear the news of their dear friend’s death. He rattles out a sigh, attempting to focus his thoughts on the winged woman who now is speaking to him, a crumpled heap of muscle and sorrow on the ground.

The man closes his eyes tightly, pressing his teeth together in a taut clench, regaining some of his composure after the initial shock. He had so many questions - but not ones he would dare voice to the chestnut mare. He slowly eases himself up, dirt and sand marring his feathers and auburn skin, though he does nothing to shake them from his body. He snorts softly, his eyes still wet as he looks on, a sad frown on his great and regal face.

“Do what you feel is right, Aurora. You and Phoebus are always friends of Tephra. May we meet again.”

The woman is gone with a brush of her muzzle to Wound, and Warrick realizes he is holding his breath.

The Overseer sighs raggedly, and without thought leans himself into Wound, seeking comfort from the silvered bay mare. He is afraid he might find himself on the ground again, with the deepening ache in his chest gradually growing more intense, and to keep himself from doing so, he presses his muzzle to Wound’s cheek, focusing on her familiar scent and smell, distracting himself. “My grief is great,” the stallion says so quietly that his voice is nearly lost on the humid wind, “hopefully I will be able to tell you one day why that is so. I cannot bear it now.” He couldn’t imagine explaining who Diable Rouge is (was), and describe their friendship and comradery that Warrick felt would be never-ending. He had been excited to watch their children grow up together, and for them both to grow together as well, but a cloak of sadness has washed over the Overseer as he realizes he cannot dream that dream anymore.
Warrick


@[AuroraElis] @[wound]
D:

RE: Written in the Sands - the aftermath - wound - 02-26-2018

S
he pieces it together as Aurora speaks. The weight of sorrow in her friend’s voice tore at Wound’s heart. She had only met Rou once — in fact, she had been caught in the thick of their reunion and the overwhelming amount of love she had witnessed could have brought her to tears — but he had seemed to be a noble man who loved his family dearly. Wound hadn’t known the relationship the stallion had with Warrick, but she can see by the way he is sunken against the earth that there was something deep there.

Wound huffs a breath against Aurora’s nose as she departs. “You are always welcome here,” she whispers. As the mare turns to leave, Wound moves toward Warrick. She can see the grief in his face, deep lines under his eyes and along the curve of his mouth. She takes his weight easily, as he leans against her, and closes her eyes when his nose finds her cheek.

“Hush now, you don’t need to speak of it today.” Her voice is gentle and soothing, nearly the voice of a mother calming a wild child. “You can tell me when you’re ready.” Wound shifts slightly, moving to groom along the curve of his crest, and begins to carefully untangle the knots in the thick of his dark mane. She moves gently, soothing his torn heart and allowing his grief to continue as she works.
credit to nat of adoxography.

@[Warrick] Feel free to reply or we can just end it here, it's up to you <3