06-04-2016, 04:58 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-06-2016, 04:14 PM by Helleborn.)
The girl child is not very old. Her zebra dam's wild ways overtook once again except this time it was permanent. The wild called the the woman, driving her made with it's lustful weeping. It whisper secrets in the form of starry skies and wild stormy winds. The young girl only chained her hoof and heart to the land upon which they lay.
When the child is weaned, filled by the grasses of mother Beqanna, Johari knows that she will turn and walk away. She hoped perhaps the girl would understand but the way she bled for the Serengeti could not be contained. Even so, Johari is amazed she has stayed this long. Such a terrible mare to go and sacrifice so much for a night of passion and sweat.
The little bundle. The leg iron. The hand around her throat.
Helleborn does not see her mother go but would not cry if she had. The girl was born different, quiet. She watches and notices the differences in the world rather than seek the affections that she should. She will not blame her mother when she notices her absence. She will not shutter and boil with rage. Opportunity shows in many different way.
Opportunity has many faces. HELLEBORN light up the world as i fall asleep
For days he's lingered in the shadows of the Den, just watching. Some faeries cast suspicious looks, but none chase him off. He's not here to steal or harm, he muses, so they must know that and so they leave him be while he watches. Children are matched with new mothers and shuffled off, some are simply fed and coddled, cleaned and played with until they're napping happily in the Spring sunlight. Upon inspection though, one child stands off to the side, the faeries pay her no mind and so she blends with the wild flowers around her.
Hm, he thinks. What a curious little one, the voice in his head mumbles.
He blows a loud snort and props his head upright, ears string forward and his forelock cast off to the side to reveal his right eye. He's far enough away for her to turn heel and scamper off if she wants nothing to do with him. Surely she could come off the edges and go where the faeries buzz with care, in the center of the Dens. He watches carefully before taking a few steps forward, his ghostly white patches make him easy to see, and his speckles move like stars under flowing clouds while he takes those few steps. He waits for her potential retreat, stopping some ten feet or so away to peer curiously and offer another low call (snort or whicker, something small).
“ If you're in need of a home, a mother, a herd – I've room for you, flowery girl.” She looked hardened by life already, even as young as she is. Even as he offers he thinks maybe she's passed the need of a mother, forced to be a mare-child sooner than she should, perhaps. Her lavender hints remind him of the shade purple of flowers, especially the one that covers the ground of the groves in Volcanic Village in the Spring.
chemdog astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
@[Helleborn]
So he's awkward with kids, but you get the idea xD
06-05-2016, 08:17 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-05-2016, 08:19 AM by Helleborn.)
The frame filled with white and black mismatches has linger in the backdrop of the den for days. Helleborn has seen her mother come and go for exactly three of them before she does not return. Still another day passes and the large shape simply plods around the encasement of the Den. After some time, his presence begins to go unnoticed, brush stroked and blended into the background.
Nothing was particularly different this day. The faeries has truly left to tend to the needier of the foals. Helle simply stayed because she did not know where else to go. She was still small and vulnerable in a large world.
Lavender tiped ears flicker towards a rumbling. The words are like delicate glass figurines being slowly crushed under the tire of an ancient hearse.
Slow.
Methodical.
The scent of death seeping slowly around the cracks of the doors.
Helle pays not mind to the strange man whispering things at first. He is merely white noise, drowning slowly in the sounds of everything else, a filler. He poisons the air around him, catching the child like a fly in his web and as she fights to get away she can not help herself as the dark amethyst pins gravitate her closer.
Lavender eyes peer up at the stranger, her small jaw is tight. If she could read minds, she would agree with her fillyhood closing in on her. She was far too old for her skin but in coming years, Helle would come to match her mind to her form.
"A mother? No. I have one already. But room? A home? Please. Anything to be out of this Den." Her words frighten her by their tone of low desperation. She is a child! She should not know desperation but she does. The inner voice peeps up to resist going, leaving, running away with this stranger but Helle can not stop-
-will not stop.
She is turning, moving like a streaking asteroid destined for some far off planet. The small striped girl moves along side the inky blackness of the great male. Her small jaw tightens again as she affirms her decision in her actions, ready to cast away the Den and her former life. HELLEBORN light up the world as i fall asleep
They've run off toward VV [post there for you!]
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