; a vision softly creeping

[Aranea]

Give me reason to fill this hole, connect the space between Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies, across this new divide she had thought of this place often over the years. it was where she was born, it was where she would one day turn to ash and disappear (it was not death she would find despite often wishing for it). this world would be her beginning and her end - but not today. today aranea picked her way silently, always silently across a world that was the same and different all at once. she followed an uncertain instinct, allowed it to guide her, embraced the ever present p u l l. it was always there - an invisible rope that led here, again and again. the years had slipped away; slowly at first but gaining speed as they climbed higher. there was a time she lingered at the edge of a lake for what seemed an eternity - days? weeks? months? time had no meaning any more. it was an empty life and an empty shell that returned to beqanna. the history written in her hoofprints was FIERCE and LOUD - the creature that returned now held only a flicker of that. she maintained her strength and her beauty and her youthful appearance, but there was a spark that was decidedly absent from her fiery eyes. those eyes moved across the familiar meadow with curiosity, seeking a face that she might know. most of them - all of them - she did not, and the burnt ash mare cocked a leg and relaxed. she did not seek reunions (not yet, at least, though surely there would be some she sought out) or attention or fanfare (hah!). the sun fell low over the distant horizon, spindly rays that cast TWISTED shadows. in one of them she stood. aranea did not call to them but lapsed in to a comforting silence and merely watched.

[Gunsynd]

Gunsynd

I wanna chain you up       I wanna tie you down

Shadows are his favorite, and so this time of day when the shadows grow to odd and unnatural size is usually when you will find him lurking about outside of the valley’s embrace. He enjoys the meadow, as much as he can actually enjoy a place that is sunny most of the time. The shadows help, however, and he moves within them towards the edges of the meadow where other lurkers tend to hide. 

It is here that he comes across the roan female watching the commotion of the meadow as single silent observer. He is familiar with this; he too liked to observe the others running amok in their little lives. It was a play, a constant drama that he watched unfold around him. Sometimes he would interject himself into the fray just for the fun of it, the rush of feeling alive. But more often than not he lived on the edge of reality, content to make the tide of the living hurry around him like a stone in a stream. 

Such was the fate of the immortal, and he finds that the dark horse before him is of this fate as well. Not that she looks ancient, or tired, or old even; he can just sense the same unstirring quality, that she is in no rush to force herself into their world. He too, does not disturb her right away but considers her for a moment. She may look familiar but he has seen so many faces throughout his long life they all begin to run together. Perhaps it was best that way. 

When he finally decides to interrupt her solitude he does so quietly, but not silently. He does not feel like playing his usual games today, and so he wears his natural black pelt and dark tangled locks. His dark eyes turn from her to the others she had been observing and he gives a quiet scoff. “The players change, but the story always seems to be the same.” His words are deep and somewhat raspy as they emerge from his lips. “Always so busy with their silly little lives.” 

He turns his gaze to his companion and smiles, which would have been a reassuring gesture if the glint in his eyes had been a little less animalistic. Her scent tells him she has been elsewhere, not unlike himself, but she was back for whatever reason. They all had their reasons, didn’t they? He cocks his back leg, redistributing his heft to the other three. “What brings you back here? Boredom? Life without end can become quite dull after all.” 

I M   J U S T   A   S U C K E R   F O R   P A I N

[Aranea]

she watched them, content in her solitude, content in her silence. it had been her best friend and her closest companion and aranea lingered easily in such absence of sound and voice. it was a comfort, now, to have that familiarity, though she could not help but wonder how long it would last. would she soon see this silence as a hindrance? how could she possibly dream of reaching greatness without a voice to guide her? in the past there had been others. names and faces nearly lost to her. evrae, björk - the awe-inspiring pair that had given the queen a voice when the faeries had sought to strip her of it. they had saved her kingdom, or at the very least had saved her form a crumbling crown. without them she was lost. idly she wondered if the magic björk had cast upon the chamber still existed, if she would be able to cast her voice forth within the kingdom boundaries as she had so many years ago. would magic that strong simply disappear? would it weaken and fade and eventually vanish, as she herself nearly had? these are the musing of the voiceless shadow before her solitude is disrupted. at first she might be annoyed, though she masked it well when she turned towards the vaguely familiar figure. perhaps they had met, once upon a dream, but she is not bothered with any attempts to recall. instead she listened to his words and returned her orange-eyed gaze to the figures scattered before them, mere actors in a play. with a twitch of her lips she nodded in agreement. of course she did not (could not) speak and yet he seemed not bothered. he carried on with questions and assumptions - or, perhaps, like she, he could feel the immortality that cloaked her as it did him - and aranea remained in stoic silence. when his words finally lapsed and the quiet swelled once more she looked back to him, parted her lips and then closed them once more. she had no words to give him. even if she had, would she have had an answer? aranea did not know why she had returned, so perhaps in this moment her silence was a gift.

[Gunsynd]

Gunsynd

I wanna chain you up       I wanna tie you down

Nothing was ever truly silent. Even his valley, with her eerie quiet, had sound if one would only listen. The movement of the pines, the sound of water dripping, vibrations caused by birds or other animals. Just like this, even the voiceless are not truly silent. Their bodies have an orchestra to them; their heart beating, their blood rushing to and fro, the swish of a tail, the sharp huff of an inhale or exhale. 

And so he does not question her lack of words. She is not the first voiceless equine he has encountered, nor will she be the last. While it causes some hindrances to conversation for those not adept at delving into others’ minds, it does not turn him away. Instead he muses about what she could do if he were to make her his; with no voice to cry out it would simply be a matter of his strength against hers - and his was enough to win that battle. But even if she did not resist, how would she show her emotion without the use of such a basic capacity as sound. Of course, emotion was not necessary for him, but it made it all much more…stimulating. 

The beast simply lets the quiet surround them once more, acknowledging her display with a nod before turning his dark eyes once more to the others in the meadow. He considers the conundrum for a moment, ears moving to sounds around them like swivels with their own ideas. Finally he sighs. “Well I’m not the type to read minds, but I know a few. They might make your life a little easier.” He looks at her again, thoughtful. “You should follow me to the Valley. The Queen is voiceless as well. But there is a magician as well; he might be able to think of something for you.”

Now that business is over, a dangerous smile spreads over his lips and a glint takes over his eyes. “Unless you’d rather just stay here with me for a while.” He was never one to pass up an opportunity for entertainment. 

I M   J U S T   A   S U C K E R   F O R   P A I N

[Aranea]

it had not occurred to her to think of the meadow as an unsafe place. when aranea had last lived in beqanna she had been a known name - a queen. her company had been powerful, too, and when she was not enough to discourage then the magicians that were her friends were. times changed - while she could no doubt put up a good fight she was no match for a stallion - yet this had not crossed her mind. hopefully her confidence would be enough to keep her safe. he did not seem bothered by her silence, but what he had to offer stunned her. a voiceless queen and a gathering of magicians - history repeated itself, truly. when she had ruled the valley she had the same and despite herself she found curiosity sparking to life. it was clear in her vibrant eyes and she was probably too quick to nod again. too quick, for even as she did so he was speaking again. and there whispered to life the first hint of nervousness in her chest. aranea did not show it, her expression calm and placid. in fact she reacted with a quirk of her lips and a glint of mischievousness in her eyes, as if the idea appealed to her. Ah and how helpful it would be to have her words now. Instead she could only hope that he would interpret the tilt of her head for what it was - an indication that she was, in fact, rather eager to see if this problem could be remedied..