My love has never lived indoors

[Dreamscar]

Hippogryph knows there's a reason she doesn't come to Pangea, she just isn't certain what it is, anymore. Her feet bring her here of their own accord - as they are wont to take her everywhere else - it happens without her paying a great deal of attention to the way the world turns from green and lush meadow grass to the dusty red sandstone of this world dredged out of the sea.

It's rare she bothers to see much of the world at all.

Which is just as well, since the darkness came, and the monsters that have always whispered to her from the shadows emerged at last for the rest of the world to see, with their teeth and their claws. Something about the way the thought of them wakes in her a reluctant memory. It hides in the swirling shadows of a mind that no longer fights the haze of morning-glory poison, its raven-croak voice lost to the whispers and sinister laughter that she is used to. The broken mare mutters, quiet, but fierce, her ears pinned back, her torn lips shaped into a furious grin, but when the first contractions hit her, the laughter that crawls from her raw throat is empty of anything close to emotion or humor.

The children are a series of failures. The only clear memory that sings like a silver thread in her brain is that she was born on a beach where bodies bloated on land and sea and a dark mare lay limp beside her, skull cracked on stone and lifeblood drunk thirstily by that gleeful, foul sand. Is this the correct way? Hippogryph turned out alright, but she has not been able to repeat the experience for her own children, and each pregnancy has ended in bad and strange things. The gruesome scar tissue wings etched out of her own flesh are the gift of the first. The red girl was also a gift of the first, and she died inexplicably when Hippogryph's hoof collided with her skull.

The first had been a monster, the second, a weakling.

And the third?

Sandstone is not sand, the wind is not the sea, the child will fail as the others have.

The words stain her cracked, bloody, lips with poison while the raven mare paces and paces and walks the deep canyons with sweat frothing white on her skin. When the filly slips form her at last, it is almost as if it has dropped from another mare because Hippogryph does not seem to take notice. She is circling, manically, and startles when the dark, squirming lump appears suddenly and rudely in her path. The mare squeals and strikes out with a forehoof but she misses the head on its outstretched neck, breaking free of the blue film of the sack.

Who put this child here?

Yellow teeth are bared in threat but the stubborn beast makes no attempt to remove itself from her way. It lies there and cries softly, a plaintive voice sure to draw predators and spies. Hideous, mewling, thing. A spray of fine sand tumbles from the ridge above. The Eaters come fast. Is that why she left? A shadow moves and Hippogryph rears her head back, wild-eyed.

They will eat you, Child. They will eat all of you.

How fortunate for her to have this distraction, then. Hippogryph turns away without another glance, a strange chattering filling her ears and the stench of old blood turning the canyon air thick.

It is not the Eaters, though, that come to claim the child. The snapped pieces of his old magic still cling to the dark mare's heartstrings and he feels the pull the moment she is close enough. He finds her, hissing her nonsense words over the child and considers killing her, but instead he lets her run, gaze drinking in the gift that Hippogryph has brought him. A sister. She squirms and shivers, wet with afterbirth, and the bloody stallion croons his shrill song, wrapping the babe in the warmth of love for him; for Dreamscar.

Her eyes are bright as molten silver and full of devotion when they find his and if his his cruelly beaked mouth could curve itself into anything but its predatory smile, it would remain the same. He grabs her small skull in the crushing grip of his talons until blood beads on her dark skin.

"Mine."

image credit

[kota]

ghost of the mist, keep your ancient tryst 
back to the lone lane of the sea, slip silently

Kota is a distant, aloof little ghost always moving through the trees like a fog. She’s not one to approach someone for no reason and just begin chatting – what a silly thing to do, she’s always thought. The overo doesn’t pretend and small talk seems to be just that, pretending. Approach with a purpose or keep to yourself, a solid way a life that’s served her so far.

Her children, and occasionally her obnoxious father, are the only real socialization she’s ever sought or even desired, really. Every lover taken has been left in silence, or in the case of Carnage, he simply vanished after conception – how perfect. She’s always loved a good roll with the old devil of Beqanna. The father of her, and eighty percent of this world’s, children is most certainly responsible for this darkness. For the monsters that have said to have been released through the afterlife gates. She can hear the blood-curdling calls of the predatory beasts, hunting. And the desperate screams of those they’re praying upon. Kota’s heart is heavy with worry for her daughter (the one who is not in Pangea) and granddaughter. She’s almost certain her father has slithered to safety, probably with a horde of mares if he’s gotten his way. 

She’s decided to go look for Let and Fenwe, she cannot stand it any longer. The darkness isn’t what makes her fearful, but what lurks in it. The pale woman swoops and darts like a deer on high alert, moving her feet carefully and sometimes freezing in place mid-step to listen to what is around her. She’s on her way to cross the border out of Pangea when she smells something, hears something peculiar. She smells birth and all of its accompanied aromas…a child being the most alluring smell to her nose. She’s a cold ghost but she’s the warmest mother, an odd contradiction she’s carried with her since her first child. She’s drawn to caring for them, teaching them, protecting and nurturing them. It’s a rooted instinct she happily embraces, never being able to leave any child without care or love if it does not have it. And with that in mind you can imagine her internal horror when she approaches the scene she finds in the darkness.

She moves quietly but it’s likely the creature holding the child in its claws is as aware of Kota as she is of it. She couldn’t help but creep closer, her heart fluttering with nerves, her stomach twisted into a stone. “Are you killing that baby?” her voice is tight, as tightly wound as her muscles clinging to her bones, ready to flee… She would have flown on four feet if not for the child, which made her feel like her feet were firmly cemented in quicksand. She tries to figure out just what she was looking at…she could see claws on a little bundle of fur, and a distant firelight gleaming off of what looked like a giant beak. She’s probably just made a grave mistake, she contemplates, perhaps this is her death; trying to save a child.

~ for @[Dreamscar]

8

I hope this is okay! She's a mamabear, so when she walks by this whole scene she's like WAIT, WHAT?!

[Chimera]

The dark mare disappears, but someone else fills her her world in an instant, black beak gleaming dully in the bleak light of the eclipse, flat, yellow eyes holding her own silver gaze. The child barely hears the strange croaking word that breaks from his throat, there is only the flush of pain as his claws pierce her skin and the strange devotion that floods over her like the warm southern sea, and she is lost, drowning in it.

It's not so bad, if it's the only thing you've ever known.

Another voice breaks over them, glass shattering, and the stallion that holds her rapt growls softly in the back of his throat. He looks away and the dark world turns cold, too. She tries to stand, to protest his leaving her bereft, but the grip on his talons hardens and pulls her forward as he turns to the patchwork mare, smashing her back into the earth so hard that for a moment the world turns bright white and the only sound is the crunch of sand and her own high-pitch whine.

Dreamscar fixes those predatory eyes on the intruder, a low clicking rattling out into the space left between the adults.

"No."

He is not killing her, though the flat tone of his voice and the way he shifts his weight over the delicate frame of his newborn sister like an eagle spreading its wings to cover its kill is not especially convincing.

"Go'ay. Now."

The child squeals, kicking out wildly with her legs when the pressure of his weight on top of her is almost too much, but he's leaning forward toward the intruder, tail lashing, flicking blood against the dark canyon walls and he doesn't seem - or does not bother - to notice, her distress. That sharp beak snaps its final warning in the air and he steps off of her at last, leaving her to cough the red dust back out of her lungs.  The ragged-skinned stallion approaches the mare and the girl finally struggles to her feet, a strange feeling in her breast tugging her after him like a hook embedded in her heart. She tumbles recklessly after him but stumbles over a strange bit of darkness that hisses and jitters at her. It flashes teeth black and sharp as obsidian and she pauses, but Dreamscar is getting further away now and she's desperate to reach his side again. She rushes forward.

Too slow.

The Beast is on her in a second, teeth slashing her flank. The filly lands a kick but her leg only seems to disappear deep inside it and pulling the hoof free again lights her whole leg on fire, as if its entire being is filled with shards of broken glass.

"Unh! No, ow-ow-ow"

Chimera

@[kota]
@[The Monsters] have at her Telekinesis

[Random Event]

@[Chimera] your telekinesis is safe... for now (nothing happens).

[kota]

ghost of the mist, keep your ancient tryst 
back to the lone lane of the sea, slip silently

The icy feeling of regret falls like a sheet of weightless silk, draping everything in her quietly; like ghostly furniture that’s left to sit in an abandoned castle. She swallows hard and the lump moves down her suddenly dry throat like a stone. Why had she acted so impulsively? she chides herself, grimacing in the dark. She can smell the beads of fresh blood, the baby’s blood, but she can still hear its quickened breathing – so it’s not dead quite yet.

“No.”

The booming voice sends chills through her. Yikes. her expression contorts to match the sentiment and she steps back a little. The slight retreat is instinct trying to drag her away, her self-preservation begging her to listen. Sounds of the child’s struggle make Kota want to lunge forward and push him off. The normally flighty little ghost is pulled to stay and the desire to save a random child is stronger than her will to stay alive and well. Her abdomen turns and she remembers what she’s got inside of her. Her own baby… she steps tentatively back again, turning broadside so she can leap away and skitter off into the darkness like a deer. The beaked stallion barks at her again, but she doesn’t move. When he snaps his beak her heart nearly bursts in her chest, everything in her electrified to flee, but she steps out of his path appearing to have all the calmness of a spirit Queen. She stays facing him as the sound of his footfall, his smell, and the tightness he befalls on the atmosphere walk on by. Her body releases an exhale she didn’t know she was holding and she moves to sniff the foal he walks away from. It very well could be a trap and she doesn’t hesitate to try.

She freezes at the sounds of slithering over rock, and big huffing breaths. A putrid smell rolls in, enveloping the normally fresh and warm smell of trees and red-rock. Kota cannot see anything, but she can hear, and the sound of gnashing jaws rattles her senses. It all happens so fast, “NO!” she lets out a futile scream, panic overtaking her. She’s not sure where the beaked predator went – but this was much worse, and she finds herself hoping he would turn around. There seems little hope for that, really.

Adrenaline pushes her to erase all urges to run for safety, and lets loose her fight response. Kota is well muscled, stocky and confident with her own body as a weapon. Against a monster from the underworld those things seem like fighting a bear with a blunt stick, but it’s worth a try, she supposes. She jumps in front of the filly, her cries of pain only egging on the maternal impulse to protect. Kota’s front hooves slash in front of her with purpose, aiming for what she hopes is the beast’s nose/top jaw – smashing it may prevent it from snapping down on them. Without knowing what they’re against, it proves difficult to try and fight. She’s not sure if she is making much headway, but her front legs and feet come away with long lacerations and shards of jagged glass protruding from her bones. Her bleeding limbs glow a bright yellow light, a tingling bell-like sound ringing loud and then echoing away. “We have to run little one – I’m so sorry…” she nudges the child’s cold, battered little body, and with the contact she hopes there’s enough energy in her to heal, and that the baby’s body will receive it. The mare nudges her in the direction of where she guesses her beaked ‘guardian’ may have gone. She tries to keep the thing at bay by kicking, but it ends with predictable results. If one could see, there would be blood everywhere, a trail following the mare and then fading as she heals herself. She does her best to see to the little one’s wounds, push her along and keep her from the jaws of the monster…

If only she had just kept walking.

8

@[Chimera]

i'm sorry if i rambled! things got/are getting intense and it got away from me a little XD
so Kota is a healer BUT if you for whatever reason don't want Chimera healed right off the bat, or at all, i left it open ended.