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[open] when the night was full of terrors; - Printable Version

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when the night was full of terrors; - Ethenia - 04-25-2023

Ethenia
it was an honest mistake


In this place, she has seen far wilder things than she has ever dreamt of; a plain thing walking and breathing among magicians, sorcerers, immortals. Once, she wondered if she, too, were an immortal. The passage of time often seemed more like an elaborate illusion. After all, she doesn’t feel any older, any wiser. All she knows is that this land has shifted and changed and folded back into itself right before her very eyes, in defiance of all that she knew (or thought she knew) of the world. Water has risen and water has ebbed, kingdoms have emerged and fallen again to the dust that created them. Trees have grown and leaves have fallen, green to red to brown, so rapidly (or slowly?) that she wonders if time itself had begun move differently. Has it all been one long winter, or the amalgamation of so many that she has failed to decipher between?


No, she thinks. If one thing is certain, time slows for no creature. In truth, she did not expect to still be here. Yet, here she is: a sentinel in the shadows, a watcher, a guardian of deer. How long has she been lost in her dreams this time? The passage of time has become more like the splitting of hairs. She, too, feels as though she is being split. First it was once, then twice. By now, she is sure she has been split thousands of times, her soul pulled in so many directions she does not know what is left of herself to give to anything, or anyone. 

A lost lamb, she thinks to herself, tall grasses grazing her belly before she gives pause. Her delicate face turns to watch the sun rise on a new day and she draws a long, slow breath. She has watched the same sun rise and set a thousand times, both awake and asleep. She has watched the world begin and end (both with a bang, and a whimper), and begin again despite all odds. What she does not know, is which of these visions are real? Which of these possible impossibilities have already occurred, which may come to pass? Her heart flutters so rapidly she is rendered helpless but to close her eyes. She counts: one, two, three, and waits. 

She often wishes someone would simply tell her where it is that she belonged, and perhaps then she would not lose herself to this darkness. 



HORSERYDER.DEVIANTART.COM


RE: when the night was full of terrors; - Istrid - 04-26-2023

there's a whisper in my bones
keeping me restless and whole

They are sentinels, the pair of them, but far different in their nature. Hers is the onus of a generation, the teachings of a father who had once stood guard in a distant and forgotten land, tempered only by a mother who had saved him from that life. But there are some things that linger, as though passed along in the very core of their DNA.

There are some things that could never truly be forgotten.

The shadows of the forest wrap around her with familiar coolness. Her steps are light, making little sound on the thick and murky leaf-litter left behind by a fading autumn. There is confidence in her stride, the bearing of someone who has walked this course many times before. Many who linger in the wilds are lost, seeking something they cannot quite name. Istrid is not. She is not certain she has ever been lost, or if she has, it has never felt like it. She does not wander, looking for something greater. She does not dream of a different life.

This is what she has known, and she is content.

Eventually her steady steps lead her from the thinning trees and into the waning grasses of the meadow. Her purposeful stride only falters when she sees another. A mare, her gray and white form still in the cool, early morning air, eyes closed against something Istrid cannot fathom. For a moment something predatory flashes across her features, nostrils flaring as feline eyes gleam. Such a natural response to a creature in distress.

Another moment passes and no trace of the predator remains. Only the face of a lovely mare, antlered head tilting in curiosity. When she finally approaches the stranger, she does so in the same way she does everything else, with purpose and confidence. As she settles a comfortable distance from the other mare, her head tips the other direction, pink eyes unblinking as she studies her.

It isn’t until her silence has stretched slightly too long that Istrid belatedly recalls she should say something. “Hello.”

istrid



@Ethenia

RE: when the night was full of terrors; - Ethenia - 05-10-2023

Ethenia
it was an honest mistake
Ethenia draws a long, slow breath. There is something comforting in the crisp morning air that she cannot see with her eyes closed. She feels as if she could simply float away into the clouds, and imagines herself doing so. The tranquil daydream nearly pulls her into the cosmic swirl of true slumber; she feels herself slipping away, but there, just there, before she is lost entirely, comes the faintest whisper of a sound.

Another deer, she assumes before opening her eyes. The daydream dissolves and the brightness of the morning washes across her as she is once again thrust into this world, even if her mind feels a few steps behind. Ethenia turns to the visitor, the familiarity of antlers brings a startling realization that this is not, in fact, a deer approaching. Instead, a young mare. There is something far more decisive and certain in her than any deer Ethenia had encountered. She tenses, as if able to feel the silence linger between them. Another magician, she thinks, considering for a moment whether this may be the predatory kind.

“Hello,” she replies cautiously, “Who are you?” Although she does not feel fear, perhaps, there is a definitive note of uncertainty in her voice. What tricks could the deer-girl be concealing? Her eyes cannot help but drift to the branching of antlers again, suddenly feeling small and defenseless in this age of magic. But still, she does fear: the uncertainty is instead tempered with a slow curiosity. Surely, if harm was meant it would have been dealt by now. Besides, what use would she be against it?

HORSERYDER.DEVIANTART.COM


@Istrid

RE: when the night was full of terrors; - Istrid - 05-17-2023

there's a whisper in my bones
keeping me restless and whole

They are deceptive, those antlers crowning her head. They are the weaponry of prey, a distinct symbol marking her out for the many predators that roam this land. Yet, she is not prey. Has never been. Indeed, anyone who gave her more than a cursory glance could easily distinguish the predatory nature of her confidence and fluid gait. An oddness, that, but one that is certainly not unique in this land.

The woman before her seems to realize it. Her apprehension is a thick perfume around her, and were Istrid not also equine in her nature, she might have been tempted by that scent. Instead it draws her curiosity. Why would this mare distrust her so, when she has yet to witness the predator’s aspect beneath the guise of the prey animal she currently wears?

The intuition is common, knowing there is more to Istrid than she shows. The tempered fear, on the other hand, is not.

The cautious words drifting through the air cause her to blink, momentarily caught off guard. She had forgotten, however briefly, that she had already greeted the stranger. “Istrid,” she replies easily. She is accustomed enough to conversation to know how one should go. Accustomed enough to know that she should return the question, should attempt some form of introductory small-talk. The words that slip out of her mouth instead, however, are anything but casual. “You are wary of me,” she remarks before pausing, her brow furrowing faintly. “Why?”

istrid



@Ethenia