push me deep in the river, and drown a part of me forever; any

[Faulkor]

 

In the furthest depths of the forest something stirs. Here the moonlight barely peeks through the thick canopy, but for the cave-dwelling stallion the feeble light is more than enough. It is unlikely that he will ever become acquainted again with the light of day. This is by choice. For too long he has devoted himself to the damp darkness, but she has been such a comfort to the cruel, star-strewn beast. All who he had ever deigned to love had left him (or disappointed him so greatly that he left them). All except the darkness… a companion only slightly more faithful than that of his blue roan friend, Balto.  His companion is gone tonight, no doubt wandering the same great halls of verdure in search of the essence which they both so craved to make their own: magic.  It is not lost on the old stallion that the day may come more quickly than not that his blue friend  overtakes him in prowess. Even during their last few years spent together in utter darkness Faulkor could feel the forces begin to shift. Oh, what a terribly uncomfortable feeling - to feel one’s potential flicker away to add to another. He cannot help the bitter taste on his tongue as envy forces herself inside him. Yet, he cannot hate Balto… not as he hated Sider… not as he hated himself.  Faulkor sighs forlornly. He must find purpose in his aging existence lest he slip back into the hollows of the world to be forgotten forever. Sider had once given him purpose - a reason to fight and conquer. Grinding, aching joints remind him that those days are past, though he still feels that thirst for bloodshed deep in his throat.  A rush of sound slowly fills his tattered ears as he nears an angry river. He delights in the ferocity of the sound, for it reminds him of a distant land and a pretty, milk white mare that had once been his for the taking. For a fleeting moment he wonders of their daughter. How very sad that he had to murder her to spite her faithless mother.  So it is with these memories of old that the shadow rests just out of reach of the moonlight, listening to the roar of an unfamiliar river.  F A U L K O R

[keeper]

Keeper-

The grizzly sow lumbers here and there.
She can smell them, the newborns that drop from their mothers’ bellies and they smell like a sweet easy meal. But the bear balks at snatching a foal from a mare’s side - something inside hesitates, questions the familiarity of that shape and makes the bear shake her head from side to side in anger, a roar stifled between her thick jowls.

Spittle flying, lips peeled back from her teeth; she mauls and marks the trees around her until her rage has begun to die within the forest. Eventually a squirrel is her unsatisfying meal but a meal of meat nonetheless that quells enough of the hunger in her gut for the time being. She thinks back to just before the winter and the river that teemed with salmon leaping upstream. Now there’s a thought… and the sow is lumbering off towards the river.

But somehow, along the way, the bear loses herself and becomes a mare that shakes off the lasting accoutrements of savage tooth and sharp claw, and the little stub of a bear’s tail becomes a mare’s tail, only instead of silken and long, it is of varying length and rife with twigs and tangles.

Keeper is just becoming herself again and pushing the bear back into the depths of her skin as she nears the river. The roar of it is loud in her ears. Loud enough to drown out the bear’s protest at being denied it’s chance at a heartier meal. The wild little mare has spat out the taste of squirrel, somehow both gamey and nutty at the same time, from her mouth that lacks its usual smile. The bear and her still have a long way to go before reconciliation is achieved. Each tries to deny the other the right to rule but Keeper is determined to prevail over the bear’s much baser instincts.

Still, the bear has brought her to the river of all places.
The river, at night. Where there is moonlight all around the first thought on Keeper’s mind is to check her reflection. Not out of some foolish mare’s sake of vain preservation but out of the sheer fact that she’d be horrified if there was still blood on her mouth, like that one time when she’d woken up to find she had devoured some poor pitiful beast. Or the time she’d had fish-scales and fish-bones in her mane and glistening like raindrops on her pale dun neck.

The bear did love her salmon! Keeper would acknowledge that much and the fish was preferred over the more furrier things the bear might hunt down. So without much ado, she hastened her way over to the angered rush of water and peered over the earthen lip of the bank to look upon herself. No blood! She breathed a sigh of relief and upon her next inhale, found a tantalizing thread of something familiar - cave, and the memory that flew to the forefront of her brain hot on the heels of that particular scent. Only one other had smelled so thick of damp rock and earth, lacking the musk of wind and rain and openness. Could the blue roan stallion have been bold enough to venture forth at last, and without her?

Incredulous, Keeper turned to the source of the scent and her look became muddled with confusion. This was some other, not him - not Balto, of the trembling flesh and look that had come to trust her at the last minute when the sky pearled with morning’s first light and their time came to an end together. Her love of mushrooms had led her to that cavern he’d haunted and he’d tried to warn her of other things that go bump in the night but Keeper had brushed it off. But this one smelled like that cave and a wave of apprehension washed over her.

He looked not at all approachable but Keeper had a bit of boldness inside her that refused to be silenced in moments like these. She took a small hesitant step towards where the dark stallion blended into the dark absence of the moon in the night by the river, and took a bigger sniff of his scent from the air, her nostrils sucking and squelching loud as buckshot but quiet compared to the roar of the river at their backs. “Hello,” she said with a brave air that did not quite reach the black shine of her eyes though her voice did not waver or warble.

not knowing how deep the woods are and lightless

@[Faulkor]

[Faulkor]

 

There were not many beasts who ventured close to the cave he and his companion had selected as their new sanctuary - deep, deep within the bowels of the Forest.  Those who did so seemed quite ignorant to the cave’s opening so near them. At night, Faulkor would leave the holds of the ground to explore the new scents that the light had brought in. One had stood out above the others, for this one had been close - nearly within the walls of their abode! Balto has said nothing to him, but Faulkor did not question. Words between the two of them were concise and with purpose, always. When months passed with no further incident, Faulkor had forgotten or no longer cared. In another life, some ten years ago, Balto had been Faulkor’s beta stallion. They each had their own mares and shared the Cavern and the responsibilities of protecting the herd. Perhaps, it would have been better for the blue roan, had he stayed behind to rule in Faulkor’s place rather than follow his leader into the dark and endless labyrinth. He could have taken the star-strewn stallion’s mares as his own, could have become the King of Cimarron Island as Faulkor had so pitifully failed to do. Though, unbeknownst to both of the stallions, the entire island had sunk shortly after their departure - the dark halls home only to the sea now. If Faulkor felt any remorse for leaving his herd to be scattered by sea or stallion, he never deigned to express it. But, for Balto… The billowing of wary nostrils rouses his attention, faint though the sound was against the rush of river. Though he had not been hiding, he snorts in acknowledgement of the black eyes that have found him. Perhaps, he would have recognized her scent had it not been muddied with that of bear. Perhaps then, the mysterious visitor of the cave from months ago would have no longer been so mysterious. Yet, stranger still is the scent of bear upon an unmarked hide. Faulkor is curious, and he faces her fully now. “Hello” she says, and Faulkor smiles (though it is anything but settling). “Do you know where the magic grows?” he asks her - his voice not unlike the cold howl of his cave.  F A U L K O R

@[keeper]

[keeper]

That’s just it - Keeper has become a beast since she last met the blue stallion in the cave underneath the moonlight. Oh to be sure she is not a beastly sort! But now that she can shift her shape into that of a bear, she must answer to the bear’s needs and nature as much as her own equine one. So at times she is no less savage and daring than a bear ought to be but it is rare that those traits carry back over into her horseflesh.

Balto had warned her though, that he had a most unforgiving companion who might not tolerate her trespass so close to their shared cavern. She heeded his warning that night and that night alone though all the times she’d crept close afterwards in hopes of catching a glimpse of the blue roan, she’d been careful to not poke about any further than the scant clearing before the cave-mouth. Usually she hung back in the trees or lumbered about in her bear form and none was the wiser.

(Never had she glimpsed his elusive companion either.)

There is an acknowledging snort that he gives her that lets her know she has indeed found a flesh-and-blood individual this evening and not a ghost. Now their eyes meet and both seem to be equally curious about the other but the smile he gives her is anything but nice. It causes unease to settle in the pit of her stomach but she manages to smile meekly back at him.

His question catches her off guard - the smile falters momentarily before a chuckle leaves her mouth. “It doesn’t seem to grow just anywhere.” She begins by way of explanation. “Magic is all around us - in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the grass we eat, and the very ground we walk on. It seems to find us more than we find it unless you go on a quest.”

Keeper realized her explanation probably wasn’t satisfactory enough but it was a start.

ooc: I know this is going to screw up our characters’ timelines but I don’t mind lol, faulkor is amazing! <3

[Faulkor]

 

Moonlight plays through the overhead branches, casting strange shadows over the pale brown of her hide. The dark fingers attempt to trap her - to pin her down and keep her forever, but she seems oblivious - as if those fingers are not real - as if she isn’t real. She is untouchable - unscathed by shadow or beast.  Faulkor has forgotten the feeling of purity. All births are messy, but usually there is joy in the newness of life. Not for him. No, from birth Faulkor was dipped deep into the tarry pool of life’s cruelties, and now he stands before his brother’s would-be lover an old and decrepit king of nothing.  “It doesn’t seem to grow just anywhere.” she says, and Faulkor blinks expectantly. He needs more. “Magic is all around us - in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the grass we eat, and the very ground we walk on.”  Oh, the taste of grass. Faulkor had forgotten the taste of grass long ago. No, caves are much to dark and dreary for such greenery. But, he does know that this mare must speak at least a semblance of truth, for since his reentry into the world above, the land has hummed with intangible magic.  Closer. He needs more. “It seems to find us more than we find it unless you go on a quest.” There.  “Is that how you escaped death at the fangs of a beast without a mark? A quest?” Faulkor asks as he draws nearer, and in the moonlight he is much more ghastly. His skin lay draped across his bones, his coat dingy and dull from years spent in darkness. His black eyes, sunken and terrible, rove thoroughly the line of her back, the crook of her neck, the wildness in her stare. He offers his nose to hers as if an exchange of breaths might tell him more than words ever could.  Perhaps, in his younger years he may have sought to claim her as his own. But, tonight he is too old and too tired of the same old game. Tonight he needs more than flesh.  F A U L K O R

@[keeper] - Yeah, forget timelines. Still playing this as if Faulkor is old and decrepit and missing his Balto.