08-21-2015, 01:56 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-06-2015, 12:22 AM by Elysteria.)
love is a temporary madness... The day dawns bright and cold, a precursor of the winter soon to come. The sky is a clear, pale blue, allowing the sun the shine unfettered onto the swiftly changing earth. Though nothing inhibits the bright rays of the sun, the air remains stubbornly chilly. The wind is quiet, giving the day a hushed stillness uncommon for the capriciousness often exhibited by the season. The red mare stands just as quietly amongst the thinning trees that edge the meadow. An occasional leaf flutters down from the canopy above, coming to rest on the well-trodden ground beneath her feet.
She had woken that morning with a restlessness in her blood. She could not name the cause of that feeling, could not pinpoint why today she is unsatisfied with the iconic tranquility of the Dale. She knows only that her feet are restive, her soul disquieted. And so, here she stands, amongst the sparse trees edging the meadow, unsure of why she cannot still her roiling thoughts.
She has been happy in the Dale. So incredibly happy. Certainly this ennui cannot last. But she cannot identify the reason for it, cannot combat an unknown foe. She knows only that she is unsettled. Russet gaze scanning the expanse before her, she wears an uncustomary frown upon her lips. Under normal circumstances, she might have approached someone, struck up a conversation. She so enjoys meeting new horses. But today she fears that she would pass her frustration on to another, knows that she would be poor company indeed. So she simply settles into her chosen alcove, the quietness of her body belying the loudness of her mind. elysteria
if the heavens ever did speak
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
He doesn’t sleep.
This is for any number of reasons: in sleep the purple recedes like the tide, in sleep the Others (as he has come to think of those names, whispered at the periphery of his mind). In sleep, sometimes he will awaken as something else, his restless mind having wandered into a nearby bird or tree.
(He woke, once, flying, a dizzying sensation.)
But in this sleeplessness, as his skin draws tight to his bones (he was never a beautiful man to begin with), he loses control. His mind grows less and less his, he is too tired to rein it in, control it.
He stumbles. His body is breaking down (he was never a strong man to begin with). He is losing sleep, losing himself. In his mind, behind the purple, the Other voices chatter, promise terrible memories he does not, will not, face.
There was a girl. There was no girl.
His mind, such a fickle thing, departs again.
(He does not know he is so near to the restless red woman.)
His eyes open, but they are not his eyes, they are hers.
sleaze
cancer x garbage
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(sooo idk the best way to play out possession -- maybe she can 'clamp down' on the intruder, accidentally trapping him in her mind? or whatever <3)
love is a temporary madness... She cannot calm her racing thoughts. Try as she might, they remain stubbornly wild. She thinks, briefly, that perhaps she should return to the Dale. Clearly being here has done nothing for her state of mind. But she knows if she were to return, she would only pace the borders of the kingdom like a caged lion. This she could not abide. She would not feel trapped in her own beloved home.
In a matter of only moments, the thought becomes a moot one anyway. Reflecting on it in the future, she would probably berate herself for not taking the chance to escape, for not listening to her gut and leaving. But she does not. She only stands there in deceptive stillness as a sudden pressure comes to bear against her mind. The confusion comes first. In that moment, she does not understand what has happened, knows only that a foreign presence has imposed itself upon her. It is not until she tries to turn her head, tries to see what, who, is there, that she realizes there is far more going on here than simply an unwanted visitor.
The movement is unbearable, taxing her mental strength like nothing she has ever experienced before. It is like slogging through quicksand, a thick, viscous not quite liquid that tightens its hold with every movement. The scant few inches that she manages seem to take an eternity, the action as tiring as if she had just run at top speed from one end of the Dale to the other. It is not until that moment that true fear sets in.
Someone is doing this to her. Who are you? She shouts the words, though they do not escape her lips. They echo inside her mind, taunting her with her sudden inability. She understands then that she has grown grossly over-confident in her abilities. She knows the destructive force she wields, knows just how deadly it can be. She wears the proof of it boldly upon her chest. But she had not considered, not in a very long time, that she could be so easily overpowered.
She feels as though she is falling, as though she will be tossed from her body, left to float in the wind as only a faint, ethereal substance. She latches onto that presence, determination and fear making her clumsy. She might lose control of her body to this creature, but she would not allow him to push out her mind as well. elysteria
if the heavens ever did speak
08-26-2015, 11:16 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-26-2015, 11:18 AM by Cassi.)
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
He is in a current of her: thoughts and memories race by. He recalls the sensation of flight, of light spilling out like a sunburst. A daughter, now fractured, toy of a dark god. The love for a land so rich and full the heart might burst for it and for a moment he wants to stay here, where there is love and light and freedom.
But he won’t stay, of course, and he tries to make his mind recoil from the place, from her body. Even for these few seconds he’s never spent so long in another sentient creature, and already he senses it’s a dangerous game, that he could lose himself here.
(Not that’s there’s much of him left to be lost.)
Who are you? shouts a voice, and suddenly, terribly, he realizes he doesn’t know.
He is a man torn asunder, a man exhausted, a man half-mad with memories from another time
(world)
and he is now a thing fractured terribly.
I am-- he begins, a sentence he’s spoken many times, but it stays unfinished.
There are names in his own memories, names of lives lived, but they feel distant, like echoes, they no longer feel like his.
He sinks into her mind, a coffin lowered into the grave, and a name comes.
Elysteria, he thinks, I am Elysteria.
The bay mare takes a step forward, because he tells it to. The bay mare thinks of flying, thinks of Icarus, too close to the sun.
The bay mare
(the purple stallion)
thinks I am
(sleaze)
Elysteria.
sleaze
cancer x garbage
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love is a temporary madness... I am… The words echo inside her mind, ringing with the weight of a thousand bells. That this man (for now she knows with a certainty that it is a man) can hear her thoughts does not surprise her. He had entered her mind as easily as he had overtaken her body. The thought terrifies her, bringing back a dread that she had thought long since quelled. His silent words reverberate through her (I am Elysteria. A second time.) as a tangle of memories race through her.
As her body steps forward, a step she had not told it to take, the darkness of her ancient past threatens to overwhelm her. Her recollections tangle with his thoughts until a kaleidoscope of visions swim through her mind’s eye. A garishly bright purple stallion made of plastic. The sharp sting of hooves hitting flesh. A blood chilling painted on smile. Blood running in ribbons down torn skin. A deceptively cherubic child wielding instruments of torture. The body of a small, perfectly formed, perfectly lifeless colt. In a moment of clarity, she knows that not all of these are hers. Some are his, from a past just as horrifying.
The bright, happy remembrances he had first witnessed vanish beneath the crushing pressure of such long suppressed memories. In that moment, she can think only one thing, one question. Why? Why her? Why now? Why is he doing this? All of this in one simple word. elysteria
if the heavens ever did speak
I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
He wants her joy (which is now wavering, dissipating), but not her memories. The things that surface – being trapped, being struck, a child laid out prostate and lifeless – he does not want this knowledge, but it creeps across his mind. He feels the ache, the sting of the hooves, the grief at the lost son.
(You love children so much, he realizes, in something like awe.)
These memories and others, dark ones, spill out like infection from a wound and he realizes with horror that he is the instrument, he is the key turned in the lock that released these memories.
He tries to leave her mind, leave the wreckage lest he wreck it still more. But he cannot. They are both trapped, but he is the one with the body.
Another step.
Another step and he thinks of flying. He liked the sensation, in the birds. He wonders if it’s the same, to fly as a horse. The body has no wings but he senses it knows how to fly and he wonders at the magic of it.
Why, comes the voice, an echo – it is Elysteria, it is him, it is not him.
There was a girl, he thinks, absurdly, but this is an entirely different girl.
“I don’t know,” the bay mare says, aloud. He is surprised at the richness in the voice.
Another step.
He is almost drunk on it. He knows he should stop. But he can’t stop thinking about the birds.
One more step, he thinks, then, just one more.
One more turns into a dozen more until he is moving quickly, almost running.
Fly, he thinks, and the body takes flight, graceful in ways he never was and never will be, and he moves up as if to touch the sun.
Up, up, up and he watches Beqanna recede beneath him and wishes he could stay here. He hears her – hears Elysteria – hears himself – and they are shouting, but he flies above it, drunk on the sights below and the sensation of joy.
But then his control slips, the strange bond loosened, and the body is no more entirely his. It’s not hers, either, and in the struggle the flying bay slips, spirals, begins to plummet to the earth.
He scrabbles within her mind but can no longer recall how he made it fly as the air rushes past, too fast, and he thinks I’m dying. We’re dying.
(He wonders what happens, if he dies in here, with her, her executioner.)
But then his mind recalls something else, the beams of light like a sunburst, and as earth rushes towards them he sends one out, thinking wildly, desperately, that somehow the light will slow their descent.
sleaze
cancer x garbage
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(sooo she can come back in control and hit the ground as hard as you want and be burned by he rown light if you want -- tried to leave it open  )
love is a temporary madness... No. The word bursts through her head (would have burst from her lips if it could have) as she relives those memories as though they had happened yesterday. She had had no control then, just as she has no control now. It is unbearable. There was a girl. She hears the words as clear as her own thoughts, though she knows they are not hers. They are his. She is confused. What girl? But she knows that is all the answer she will receive.
“I don’t know.”
Her mouth says the words, though she had not spoken them. And then she is walking, running, flying. He wants her happy memories, the ones of when she is in the highest reaches of the sky, cold air whipping against her, of Joscelin’s dear face, of Tiphon’s. But it is all lost amidst the horror of the moment, the grim memories of her distant past. And suddenly she is plummeting as her body forgets how to fly.
Panic seizes her. Fly! She screams inside her head. It’s easy, just fly! She is speaking to herself far more than she is speaking to him. She knows how to fly. She has known how to since the very moment of her birth. But it does not listen, cannot listen. The terror comes then, the fear of falling ingrained into all creatures.
It is his terror as much as it is hers. I’m dying. We’re dying. In that moment, they are as much her thoughts as they are his. Her light bursts from her, a blinding wave of energy bolting into the earth so close to them now. It digs a shallow crater into the ground, just that much farther for them to fall. She screams, shoving him away. There is no reason for both of them to die. Even in this moment, when death is imminent, when he had tormented her unspeakably (unknowingly), she cannot prevent her urge to protect. And suddenly, she can control her body again. The silent scream suddenly slips from her lungs, splitting the air with ear-shattering tones. But she is too close to the ground. Far too close. She tries to stop herself, but it is too late.
She hits the earth with a sickening crunch. At first, she is certain that she must be dead. But then the pain comes. Agony screaming through her body, and she is certain she must be dying. That is the last thought on her mind before she passes out, the world blackening around her. elysteria
Awesome! I'm going to open this up for anyone who wants to stumble in and find her passed out.
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