05-15-2023, 12:31 AM
Sickle had not forgotten about Asterope, but she had tried to. She had swam in the wide ocean created from Beqanna’s turmoil, she had lingered in Baltia for a time and then swam far it and into the fathomless depths beyond - she had swam until she could not push herself any further. And then, once she had rested, she had gone further. Until she no longer met anyone who had heard of the continent where she was born. Until she only saw strange, unfamiliar creatures and then became one of them. Losing herself to the anonymity of the dark seas.
Becoming the monster that lurked there did not mend her, but it served as the distraction she needed. It gave her time to grow in strength and discover she was capable of fury. It allowed her to believe enough time had passed so she could return to land, where she could stamp out any last remaining memories of the foolish filly she had once been - and how long it had taken her to grow up.
She had been glad to discover so much of the world had changed, as though it was just that easy to erase the past. Just a few earthquakes and natural disasters and all the homes she had once known were mere whispers instead of looming entities.
All except for one.
Sickle does not remember making the conscious decision to see if Asterope is still in that same pond until she starts to recognize the path she is taking through the forest. When she hesitates, when uncertainty flares up inside of her, she shakes it off and forces herself to continue.
She will not fear the past or its ghosts. And she certainly will not fear what those ghosts will think of her now.
She is not the same as she was the last time she was here. She refuses to be the same.
But it is easier to push memories aside when you are leagues away from them. They return now - and she thinks about how she had brought flowers on so many past occasions. It does not occur to her to bring some this time until she is nearing the edge of the woods and sees Asterope there, lounging on the edge of the pond and partially out of the water. Sickle can feel the love she has for this mare. She can feel who she had once been stir with a queasy combination of relief, sadness, joy, and guilt at the sight of who had once been her most beloved friend.
“Hello, Asterope.” Sickle says quietly, stopping before her entire body has even emerged from the treeline. There’s conflict in her voice and expression - it’s the first time she’s seen someone she knows since she’s returned, and she has no idea what instincts to follow.
Becoming the monster that lurked there did not mend her, but it served as the distraction she needed. It gave her time to grow in strength and discover she was capable of fury. It allowed her to believe enough time had passed so she could return to land, where she could stamp out any last remaining memories of the foolish filly she had once been - and how long it had taken her to grow up.
She had been glad to discover so much of the world had changed, as though it was just that easy to erase the past. Just a few earthquakes and natural disasters and all the homes she had once known were mere whispers instead of looming entities.
All except for one.
Sickle does not remember making the conscious decision to see if Asterope is still in that same pond until she starts to recognize the path she is taking through the forest. When she hesitates, when uncertainty flares up inside of her, she shakes it off and forces herself to continue.
She will not fear the past or its ghosts. And she certainly will not fear what those ghosts will think of her now.
She is not the same as she was the last time she was here. She refuses to be the same.
But it is easier to push memories aside when you are leagues away from them. They return now - and she thinks about how she had brought flowers on so many past occasions. It does not occur to her to bring some this time until she is nearing the edge of the woods and sees Asterope there, lounging on the edge of the pond and partially out of the water. Sickle can feel the love she has for this mare. She can feel who she had once been stir with a queasy combination of relief, sadness, joy, and guilt at the sight of who had once been her most beloved friend.
“Hello, Asterope.” Sickle says quietly, stopping before her entire body has even emerged from the treeline. There’s conflict in her voice and expression - it’s the first time she’s seen someone she knows since she’s returned, and she has no idea what instincts to follow.
@asterope