I had a dream that we were dead; Adria - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: River (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=82) +---- Thread: I had a dream that we were dead; Adria (/showthread.php?tid=21182) |
I had a dream that we were dead; Adria - Jinn - 10-17-2018 Jinn I had a dream that we were dead, and we pretended that we still lived The early autmun sun filters through the slowly changing leaves, warm and golden in the dying hours of afternoon. The stallion ambling around the thick, ancient trunks populating the wood barely pays mind to the changing of the season. Time has all but lost meaning for him. Summer turns to autumn before crumbling into the decay of winter, cold and biting until spring arrives the renew life. And all of this leaves him unchanged. Just another creature left to wander her endless halls, lost and alone. With a sigh, Jinn pauses to rub his neck against the rough bark of a tree, scratching a vague itch. A clump of his dark hair pulls away, clinging to the tree in macabre glory. He only sighs and sends a pulse of healing energy to stitch the peeled flesh back together. A thing that to any other might seem a horrible and disturbing moment is quite commonplace to the odd stallion. Though he may look unusual in passing, a dusky black with patchy fur and shimmering gold points, milky eyes only noticeable if one stares too long, he is even more unusual after acquaintance. For what few realize is just how much energy he must expend in order to maintain even a passingly presentable appearance and not one of a thing long dead. Still, he is bone thin, sickly looking. A horse that has often inspired concern in others. He has grown accustomed to it. In truth, nothing could match the horror his father had expressed at having sired such a thing as he. It is something he will always remember, no matter how long he should live. The first time he had been made to understand just how different he is. After a moment, he continues forward with his aimless wandering. Moving until the river is rushing before him, the dark water glinting in the sunlight. He stares at it for a long moment before stepping forward. He pushes deeper, until the water is swirling past his belly, crashing against his protruding ribs. He closes his eyes then, losing himself in the soothing hum of the water, the biting chill as it brushes past his skin. @[Calcifer] RE: I had a dream that we were dead; Cal pony - Adria - 10-19-2018 Adria I felt nothing at all, freedom of the fall @[Jinn] okay this gave me so much muse RE: I had a dream that we were dead; Cal pony - Jinn - 10-23-2018 Jinn I had a dream that we were dead, and we pretended that we still lived He doesn’t notice her at first, lost as he is in his own mind. So long it has been his only companion that it is often difficult to remember there are others. To remember that he is not truly alone in the world. The rush of water against is skin is soothing, lulling. He loses himself in it, allowing his mind to dull and numb. Allowing himself to forget, for even just a moment, his own misery. Given the way his emotions so easily paint the sharp lines of his gaunt features, her assumption is only a fair one. A sound calls him back to the present. One he cannot quite place, nor does he try particularly hard. Inhaling sharply, he opens eyes that should have been warm gold but instead have faded into the filmy blue of death. He blinks, focusing, gaze shifting as though waking from the confusion of slumber. Finally those deathly eyes fall to the surface of the river, swirling and alive, rushing as though it has somewhere vastly more entertaining to go. His gaze catches upon the tips of her ears as she rises from the water. The liquid sluices from her, parting easily in the wake of her ascent, revealing a creature of glimmering perfection. Far more beautiful than he could ever hope to be. As a dead thing, he looks far more monster than man. A thing reviled rather than beloved. She is so fortunate, he thinks. Achingly beautiful and uncursed. When the slender fingers of water move over him, he flinches. As unused to touch as he is, it is a foreign sensation, even so brief as it is. His skin shivers across sharp bones as the water collapses gently against him, darkening the dull black of his withers. He stares at her a long moment when she asks him that question, as though confused. Perhaps surprised is more accurate. Finally, he shakes his head faintly. “No.” Then he frowns, gaze shifting to watch the gurgling water. “Maybe,” he amends. Of course, it would never work. He has become too good at self-preservation. But she did not need to know how pathetically weak he truly is. RE: I had a dream that we were dead; Cal pony - Adria - 10-27-2018 Adria I felt nothing at all, freedom of the fall @[Jinn] RE: I had a dream that we were dead; Cal pony - Jinn - 10-29-2018 Jinn I had a dream that we were dead, and we pretended that we still lived She is far too kind, to be so worried for a creature like him. Most peer at him and shrink away in disgust. They see only foul skin and a deathly stare, the trappings of a beast. They do not see the man beneath. For most, death is so black and white. It is difficult to conceive a state in which one is both and one is neither. That halfling state of opposed realms that Jinn so constantly balances within. He is a dichotomy, truly. He should be dead, but the blood of an angel flows through his veins, keeping his heart beating and his lungs drawing air. She worries that he would kill himself, but she does not know he is already halfway there. Doesn’t know life has yet to cede in this battle over his corpse, nor will life give up her grip so easily. But still lovely mare surprises him. That she hadn’t flinched from him had been enough. She is rare, and it is heartening to know he is not so grotesque that there are none left who could look at him without fear or disgust in their eyes. But then she asks if he is in pain. No one has ever asked him that before. Perhaps it had never even occurred to them. But the pain has become so commonplace in his life it is hardly worth noting. He has grown so accustomed to the way his skin will tear. It has become almost automatic to stitch it back together again so that he might appear at least slightly less gruesome. Would she care, if she knew? Would it frighten her to know how easily his skin can tear away from bone? He considers her silently for a long moment, unsure what to make of this ethereal water sprite. Unsure whether she truly wished to know, or if she was simply being amicable. Finally, he sighs, his gaze flicking briefly away as he murmurs a soft, “Always.” He does not consider it too much further. Instead, he reaches around, to show her just how grotesque (just how much of a monster) he truly is. His teeth grip a fold of his flesh as he pulls, pain slicing through him as his skin parts easily, sickeningly, from the loose grasp of his ribs. She would either understand, or she would flee in horror. He expects the latter, knowing too well the wretched sight he must make. Almost without thought, his healing curls through his body, across his skin, repairing the damage he had inflicted so easily on himself. It could mend torn flesh, that warm, soothing light, but it could not bring life to the dead. |