12-22-2019, 10:02 PM
Something is happening. The grullo mare has awakened a waterfall in a land that Red Mare does not recognize. In another place, black and gold intertwine among trees and fog. The little chestnut understands none of it, she does not understand her place in it. She has not crossed into the realm of the living. Her edges blur in the moonlight, blending into the fog as she pulls apart from it.
She has come for another reason.
A burden. She comes with a burden, one for someone else to carry. She will not return from the dead, not if she is not needed, and if this power was given to help in fixing the ragged and torn barrier between living and dead, then it does no good attached to her. Here, among the dead, where the laws are only as she believes them to be, she can split into as many Red Mares as she would like. But she only wants one, she has no use for more, the multiples are all within her heart already, they always have been. She does not need to see them.
The mist grips her and the moonlight shines through her. The little chestnut mare loses any hint of solidity when she crosses the clifftops, and though her body is ethereal and her footsteps elicit only memories of sound in those near enough to hear them, she still has a heart that stirs at the idea of walking across land she has never seen. New worlds draw her, but this one is finite. Would she come back, only to die again, when there are infinite realms to discover in a dimension beyond this. A wistful smile turns the corners of her lips upward, a soft sigh that fades into the seabreeze rolling through her. The greater adventure calls her Beyond. But first...
She has watched, and she has debated. The mare she has in mind will not appreciate this power, and perhaps that is why Red Mare has chosen her. Red Mare, who never asked for Gifts, who never wanted anything but her freedom, has chosen a recipient that feels much the same. But unlike the little chestnut, who is free to explore as she wishes, the earth-brown mare is walking a very different path, and perhaps, some day, she will also feel differently.
And perhaps she will not. The magic does not inherently come with the compulsion to use it.
There had been others. Red Mare did not understand the nature of how she came to be presented with each individual, what the connecting piece between them might be, but she had dismissed each one as they appeared before her. When at last the white-faced mare had chanced upon her, scowling, skeptical, and longing to set her feet on untrod ground, it had be a relief, but not a joyful one.
The cold night grows late before she finds her. The wind at the cliff edges is wild and it teases her and calls her, tempting her away from land to dance with it in open air, to fly upon it like mist, like rain, but she shakes her head at it, shakes her head No. Not now. The mare is drowsy, the lids of her clouded eyes heavy and she blinks slowly. Her breath is slow and measured, but her ears are alert, an old habit of the years wandering alone. It is important to be vigilant. In a dream, the sound of footsteps reaches them, and she lifts her head sleepily, turns to the shimmering chestnut. The ears turn back.
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
It can't. Every day is a day lost. Red Mare says nothing in reply. The other mare grumbles in her half-sleep, she drops her head to wipe the sand from her eyes and when she looks again at the small chestnut beside her, she isn't there any longer. Red Mare stands ahead of her, instead, one foot placed solidly on nothing, on air beyond the cliff edge. She touches her muzzle firmly against the silver dapple's chest. Once. Twice. The mare shies backwards at the feeling with a grunt and a squeal that echoes down the rocky corridor. Three times. Red Mare follows without taking a step. Four times. Each time her muzzle presses against that dark chest, a burst of light blooms against it. Panic flickers in cloudy blue eyes and in dark, endless ones, sympathy, understanding.
Five times.
Fives times she presses her nose to the other mare's chest. Five times a burst of light dazzles in the deep darkness around them, obscuring the stars overhead. Five times for the number of duplicates that Red Mare places within the other mare, now wide awake and casting about with eyes round and rolling, seeing nothing. Five times, and Red Mare disappears, nodding at the confusion on Neverwhere's face as @[Nikkai]'s gift buries itself within her.
"I'm sorry."
She has come for another reason.
A burden. She comes with a burden, one for someone else to carry. She will not return from the dead, not if she is not needed, and if this power was given to help in fixing the ragged and torn barrier between living and dead, then it does no good attached to her. Here, among the dead, where the laws are only as she believes them to be, she can split into as many Red Mares as she would like. But she only wants one, she has no use for more, the multiples are all within her heart already, they always have been. She does not need to see them.
The mist grips her and the moonlight shines through her. The little chestnut mare loses any hint of solidity when she crosses the clifftops, and though her body is ethereal and her footsteps elicit only memories of sound in those near enough to hear them, she still has a heart that stirs at the idea of walking across land she has never seen. New worlds draw her, but this one is finite. Would she come back, only to die again, when there are infinite realms to discover in a dimension beyond this. A wistful smile turns the corners of her lips upward, a soft sigh that fades into the seabreeze rolling through her. The greater adventure calls her Beyond. But first...
She has watched, and she has debated. The mare she has in mind will not appreciate this power, and perhaps that is why Red Mare has chosen her. Red Mare, who never asked for Gifts, who never wanted anything but her freedom, has chosen a recipient that feels much the same. But unlike the little chestnut, who is free to explore as she wishes, the earth-brown mare is walking a very different path, and perhaps, some day, she will also feel differently.
And perhaps she will not. The magic does not inherently come with the compulsion to use it.
There had been others. Red Mare did not understand the nature of how she came to be presented with each individual, what the connecting piece between them might be, but she had dismissed each one as they appeared before her. When at last the white-faced mare had chanced upon her, scowling, skeptical, and longing to set her feet on untrod ground, it had be a relief, but not a joyful one.
The cold night grows late before she finds her. The wind at the cliff edges is wild and it teases her and calls her, tempting her away from land to dance with it in open air, to fly upon it like mist, like rain, but she shakes her head at it, shakes her head No. Not now. The mare is drowsy, the lids of her clouded eyes heavy and she blinks slowly. Her breath is slow and measured, but her ears are alert, an old habit of the years wandering alone. It is important to be vigilant. In a dream, the sound of footsteps reaches them, and she lifts her head sleepily, turns to the shimmering chestnut. The ears turn back.
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
It can't. Every day is a day lost. Red Mare says nothing in reply. The other mare grumbles in her half-sleep, she drops her head to wipe the sand from her eyes and when she looks again at the small chestnut beside her, she isn't there any longer. Red Mare stands ahead of her, instead, one foot placed solidly on nothing, on air beyond the cliff edge. She touches her muzzle firmly against the silver dapple's chest. Once. Twice. The mare shies backwards at the feeling with a grunt and a squeal that echoes down the rocky corridor. Three times. Red Mare follows without taking a step. Four times. Each time her muzzle presses against that dark chest, a burst of light blooms against it. Panic flickers in cloudy blue eyes and in dark, endless ones, sympathy, understanding.
Five times.
Fives times she presses her nose to the other mare's chest. Five times a burst of light dazzles in the deep darkness around them, obscuring the stars overhead. Five times for the number of duplicates that Red Mare places within the other mare, now wide awake and casting about with eyes round and rolling, seeing nothing. Five times, and Red Mare disappears, nodding at the confusion on Neverwhere's face as @[Nikkai]'s gift buries itself within her.
"I'm sorry."
...
500+ words to satisfy the quest requirements
