A colorless existence -lupei

[Bly]

a colorless existence

She left the Gates without a second glance. Trotting away from the calls and cries of a little silvered mare. That woman, her Mother, was so emotional, throwing herself to her knees with sobs. Since then Bly had taken shelter in the Meadow, somewhere no one knew her, somewhere no one cried or called out for her. Why would they?

She settles under an apple tree, looking languidly out into the open. Groups of horses dotted the horizon and even some stood alone, just as she did. The fall air forms circles of current around her neck and carriage, and though she can not see the changing of the leaves, she imagines it has begun. Her world is an endless sea of grays, blacks, and whites. Slowly, her silvered coat blooms into a rich plum purple. Her white blanket exchanges its drab hue for mustard, and her hair slowly burns into orange. Perhaps it is because she was thinking so hard about the change of the seasons, maybe it is just coincidence. Either way, her eyes fail her, and she would never see the true beauty she was.

Beautiful yes, if one could look past the shining scar across her face. The eye and snowflake folding its way from one side, over her snout, and bending to the opposite jaw. She flicks her tail in annoyance, the last of summer's flies still buzzing about her flanks. She greets no one, though some do acknowledge her as they pass. She blinks back at them in indifference, simply staring until they move along. Some will shrug and continue on their path, some will curse to deaf ears. She hears them plenty, but she does not rise to their bait, because she simply does not care. She doesn't really care about anything anymore.

A leaf flutters to the ground, landing at her feet, and she dips her head to look at it. It's a dark grey, and not yet brittle- bending when she places her weight on it. She snorts, sending it flopping a few inches away, there it blends with the color of the grass it crowns.

Bly

never tasting life's delerium

[Lupei]

lupei

What the truth is, I can't say anymore

To be color-blind in Lupei’s world would be a terrible curse. From the moment he opens his eyes in the morning to the second he closes them again at night, everything is drenched in resplendent color. He was born with the ocean reflected on his coat and two bodies to control. The eyes of his horse form see one world of color, and the eyes of his wolf form see another. Predator and prey, struggling against each other internally while he enjoys the perks of both.

This day in particular isn’t so much devoid of life as it is draining of it. Winter was a sinister season for him, incredibly droll and barren of life, color. Autumn, however, was a brilliant transition that was physically pleasing to his body and his senses. It was a good season for the young stallion, and he revels in it by stalking along the meadow with an easy, ground-eating walk. He’s not looking for anything in particular, rather, something finds him instead.

It’s her coat - eye-catching and as brilliant as the setting sun - that draws him to a complete stop some feet away. She’s something of a perfection, so much so that Lupei tilts his head and perks his ears, holds his breath and blinks as if to make sure she’s not some mirage. But she’s not, she’s clearly living, and as her impossibly beautiful nose dips to the earth so that she can blow some clutter of foliage out of her way, Lupei can’t stop himself from moving towards her.

“Please tell me that you’re real.” He pleads as he comes to a stop in front of her. His lips twitch, a faint smile working around the edges of his mouth. She’s a mare, he reasons to himself, only a mare. There was nothing that should be making him this uncomfortable. But without meaning to she does make him rather uncomfortable, and the young wolf can’t decide if it’s a good feeling or a bad one.

[Bly]

a colorless existence

Drawing her attentions away from the colorless leaves, she looks up, her blue eyes stare once again at the Meadows. She finds herself looking at no one in particular, letting her gaze drift from one group of horses to another. Again someone approaches her, and she wonders if they will be one to shrug or one to curse her. It had become a sort of uneventful game, move along, move along, yell, no no, that one just walked away. It must be terribly disconcerting for them, the way she stared, eyes following as they passed. She didn't say hello, she didn't say buzz off, she didn't even dip her head to acknowledge them.

Another was coming, that much was true, an odd look on his face. It was something to mark the difference in his appearance, as she could not be swayed by his vibrant coloring. Such a strange look, dazed maybe, or confused? Now she changed the game up, trying to place the twist of his features.

He comes to a stop before her, breathing words that were not curses. She flicks her ears forward, pulling her head back as he finishes what he has to say. What a strange boy, she looks back at him blankly, waiting for him to become one that moved on. She waits, an awful long time, but he doesn't move- he doesn't walk away. Please tell me that you're real. His inquiry hangs in the still air, she takes her time to decide how to answer.

"As real as you are." Her response is simple, and certain. She has her own questions though, so she stares him down in the asking. "Shouldn't I be? Who are you?" It was such a very odd thing, this strange boy asking her strange questions. Perhaps it was something in the air, maybe he was ill, or had too much sun to the head this summer. She swishes her tail out behind her, the oranges burning into a deep maroon.  Her mane follows suit, before they both return to the color of pumpkin pie.

Bly

never tasting life's delerium