01-23-2016, 09:52 PM
Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies
In the end, it doesn’t matter what they do.
The other black and white mare joins her at the seal. Weaver doesn’t even know if this is the next seal or not. Doesn’t know if Rhonen or Warship will go to the remaining seal, though she suspects someone will. Conquest lurks at the edge of the battle field, watching her. Weaver’s about to back peddle away when the spotted chestnut positions himself between her and Conquest. She doesn’t know his name, but she knows she owes her life to him.
To him, to Warship, to the mare beside her. To their entire little ragtag band. All but the girl that flickers in and out of existence, and the mare that sold herself for too high a price.
She sees War barreling toward the dappled mare, teeth ripping through her skin like air. Weaver wants to pity the mare, but her every breath a reminder of the pain War has already caused her. No one has made it past War unscathed.
Some of her cuts have begun to heal at least, the blood no longer trickling down her coat. But the piece of War’s seal didn’t help enough. Didn’t heal the broken rib, didn't close the wounds completely.
War bellows, and she can hope it's the sound of defeat. Can only hope they’ve all collected their seal, hope they've slowed him down just a bit. But it won’t be enough. It won’t matter. There are still two more seals. In the few moments she has to stand there, a couple seconds of rest, she begins to lose hope. The pain of her cracked rib settles in. The phantom of a headache still throbs in her skull. Sweat from fighting soaks her skin all over again.
How could they survive two more seals?
The world flickers, and the dapple mare disappears. Weaver envies her. Even if she’s dead, gone from Beqanna and purgatory, Weaver envies her. She wants to be gone too. She wants to give up.
She can’t give up. None of them can. As soon as they give up, Conquest and War win. But in the end, it doesn’t matter what they do.
Weaver isn’t at the third seal. She sees the lamb, but it’s already too late. It’s always too late. He touches the seal, and it shatters with a resounding boom. Weaver closes her eyes, growing so used to the sound, learning to expect it.
She doesn’t keep her eyes closed long, no longer that worried about debris. She's already too injured to worry about a few more wounds. Instead, she opens her eyes as the pieces are still falling to the ground, trying to find where some of the shards go. The faster they find the seals, the sooner this is over. But the world is flickering faster now, flashes of Beqanna becoming vidid. She keeps losing track of the pieces as the worlds collide.
But she manages to track a few. There's a couple of pieces to the right, some in front, and some as far as the woods. There are others, she's sure, but she has no idea where.
She’s ready to take off; run-limping her way toward the piece of seal she saw falling off to the right. But then she notices Conquest and War halt in their tracks, notices their heads turn to find the next demon.
Then they turn tail and run. Her legs freeze, her heart racing, her breath catching in her throat. She doesn’t know what is coming for them. What Conquest’s haunting laugh and War’s battle cry could portend.
They disappear into the woods, taking the fight somewhere new. So far, they’ve been in the clearing. So far, they can see one another; can see what’s coming for them. But in the woods? She keeps watching, trying to see what’s lurking in the trees for them, what plague comes next.
There’s a sickly green flicker coming from the trees. Too bright, too vibrant, to belong to the muted world of purgatory. Too ghostly to be flashes of Beqanna coming though. His name doesn’t ring out like the others. It’s a whisper of the trees, and she almost doesn't hear it over the sound of her own breath.
Famine.
He doesn’t come for them, but she realizes that this makes sense. Famine never barrels toward you. He sits and waits for you find him. Waits for the black and white girl who has never known hunger. Never known pain. Never known fatigue. Never known anything but the Chamber and her raven. How she would kill to have her raven now, to send him after the pieces of the seal while she hid in a bush.
But her raven is not here. She killed the only raven in this world. Though there are still plenty of minions left, blocking their path to War and Conquest and Famine. The first line of defense. She can't fight her way through them again. She's too broken, too tired. She'll have to find a way around. And around means into the woods sooner.
But she’s not going to the woods yet. She looks to the mare beside her, looks to the stallion in front of her, trying to catch their attention. “Get the pieces of the seal first. Then surround him. We can't let him escape.”
She says, as loud as she can, trying to make sure her allies her. The effort of yelling sends a fresh way of pain through her side.
If they get the seals first, they weaken Famine. Then they can surround him, they can keep him from sneaking into Beqanna. Every time the world flashes though, she wonders if he’ll slip from one realm to the next. Wonders if they are doomed to fail.
She also wonders if she can slip back, leave them all here to fight without her. What can she offer them anyway? She has no traits, no fighting skills. She’s been nothing but lucky, with others getting hurt in her place.
But she knows she won’t abandon them, even if she could. So she doesn’t waste any more time, but heads off to the right. The seal, thank goodness, had fallen away from Famine, and she goes to look for it. She can’t run anymore, so she moves as a strange half pace. Not quite a walk, not quite a canter. It doesn’t take long for the minions to spring into action, and to catch her.
They're injured too, at least. They're growing tired as well, though not as fast as she tires. It is a slight help, but it's not much. She hears a low growl behind her, spins around in time to see a raccoon. Its natural black mask surrounds unnatural black eyes. Its claws are long and sharp, and she imagines one of those claws piercing her heart with ease. She imagines loosing an eye to those claws.
She turns back to her course, and doesn’t stop. She just keeps going, listening to the sound of it behind her, trying to judge where it is by the sound. But with the sounds of battle raging around her once again, she can’t quite judge how far behind her pursuer is. She’s a moment too late. Claws rake against the back of her right leg. She screams as lashing out, hoof connecting with some part of the animal.
She’d been hoping to kick at the last minute, but she was too untrained to get the timing right. The raccoon has been faster. At least the damage doesn’t seem to have been terrible. Her leg hurts as it hits the ground again, the blood warm as it drizzles down her leg. But it supports her weight, and she keeps going.
The seal isn’t far now. She can see it, and she covers the rest of the space without incident. Immediately, she reaches out her hoof and steps on the seal. The familiar weight of the world settles in her chest as the seal absorbs into her skin. She pauses for a moment, wondering if she can go on. There are only nine of them now. Nine horses to defend Beqanna against Conquest and Famine and War.
Their enemy might be weaker, but so far are they. And they still don’t know what the last seal will bring.
She shakes the thoughts from her head. That’s a road she can’t travel down. First Famine. First, they have to stop him. And she knows that means going into the woods now. Leaving the bloodbath behind her, loosing sight of her allies. She’s close to the woods at least though farther away from where Famine and the others are hiding. It’ll be harder to find them if she enters the woods now, but it might keep the minions away.
If she can lose the minions, she’ll be better off. There’s still the three demons to deal with, but she imagines they can find her without trying. She’ll take losing the minions at least. A few less claws and teeth to worry about will be beneficial.
She slips into the woods, glad for the excuse to move slower. The trees are dense, and whatever gray light she had in the clearing is gone in the trees. But she’s used to this. She’s grown up in the Chamber, spent her (albeit short) life inside the pine forests there. Here, she almost feels at home. Here, she feels a flicker of hope in heart again. She can survive this.
She moves through the woods at a steady pace, trying not to flinch at every sound that comes her way. She's still scared one of the minions will find her here. But the sounds don’t seem to leave the clearing, and she keeps moving forward as best she can. The world flickers now and again, throwing her off. She gets turned around a few times, stopping each time to look for that eerie green glow.
Every time she stops to look for Famine, her heart skips a beat, afraid he’s slipped into Beqanna. But every time she finds him. Every time he’s still trapped. After a few flickers, she knows she’s getting closer. She can feel hunger pangs, can feel herself growing weaker. Growing desperate for grass or milk or anything of substance. But there is nothing to eat here. And this is exactly what Famine wants.
It takes her some time, but finally, she can see him. A black coat like smoke billowing off him, green eyes and ghastly green glow. By now, the rumbling in her belly is audible. By now, her legs are shaking beneath her. It’s harder than keeping herself up against Conquest. Conquest wanted her to kneel. Famine will kill her from the inside out to get her on her knees.
She hears a snap behind her, whirling around just in time to see those yellow eyes. No. No no no. She scrambles backward, putting herself closer to Famine, trying to get away from Conquest. But it doesn’t matter. She’s too weak, too slow. He brushes by her, and her headache returns in an instant.
It’s not debilitating like the last time. Conquest is weaker, and she can feel the difference. But still, the headache is more than she can take. Between the hunger and the exhaustion and the broken rib and the cuts and now, this. She can only hope the fever doesn’t return this time. It doesn’t seem to be, and she thinks have one by now.
Conquest disappears back into the trees, his work done. War, at least, does not come find her. She doesn’t see him, and she hopes that her promise was enough to keep him away. Maybe he’s just busy with someone else. She should care more, worry more about her allies, but she doesn't. As long as he’s not coming for her, she'll take it. She turns again, facing Famine. She could play his game. She already had his seal, had that one tiny defense against him. Though still, she grows weaker by the minute.
She is not the first one here. The filly is off in the distance, sprawled on the ground, coming in and out of existence. That other mare is there, the one that Weaver finds vile and disgusting. They both fight against Famine now, they are both on the same side as Weaver. But that's only because they no longer have a choice (or so Weaver thinks, anyway).
These are not the horses she wants to see. Her allies aren't here yet, and she doesn't know if they will come. The minions could stop them. They could give up. Or they could have ignored her idea. But it's too late for her now. She's here. And she's choosing to believe that her friends will come too. They aren't just allies after all, not after all this. They are friends.
She just has to wait Famine out long enough for the others to gather the rest of the shards. Just long enough for them to get here, to surround him. It wouldn’t take them long. She hopes, at least. Because she doesn’t know how long she can keep fighting, how long she can stare Famine in the face and win.
The malicious grin on his face makes Weaver thinks he knows this too. He is patient, he is determined. But then, so is she.
The other black and white mare joins her at the seal. Weaver doesn’t even know if this is the next seal or not. Doesn’t know if Rhonen or Warship will go to the remaining seal, though she suspects someone will. Conquest lurks at the edge of the battle field, watching her. Weaver’s about to back peddle away when the spotted chestnut positions himself between her and Conquest. She doesn’t know his name, but she knows she owes her life to him.
To him, to Warship, to the mare beside her. To their entire little ragtag band. All but the girl that flickers in and out of existence, and the mare that sold herself for too high a price.
She sees War barreling toward the dappled mare, teeth ripping through her skin like air. Weaver wants to pity the mare, but her every breath a reminder of the pain War has already caused her. No one has made it past War unscathed.
Some of her cuts have begun to heal at least, the blood no longer trickling down her coat. But the piece of War’s seal didn’t help enough. Didn’t heal the broken rib, didn't close the wounds completely.
War bellows, and she can hope it's the sound of defeat. Can only hope they’ve all collected their seal, hope they've slowed him down just a bit. But it won’t be enough. It won’t matter. There are still two more seals. In the few moments she has to stand there, a couple seconds of rest, she begins to lose hope. The pain of her cracked rib settles in. The phantom of a headache still throbs in her skull. Sweat from fighting soaks her skin all over again.
How could they survive two more seals?
The world flickers, and the dapple mare disappears. Weaver envies her. Even if she’s dead, gone from Beqanna and purgatory, Weaver envies her. She wants to be gone too. She wants to give up.
She can’t give up. None of them can. As soon as they give up, Conquest and War win. But in the end, it doesn’t matter what they do.
Weaver isn’t at the third seal. She sees the lamb, but it’s already too late. It’s always too late. He touches the seal, and it shatters with a resounding boom. Weaver closes her eyes, growing so used to the sound, learning to expect it.
She doesn’t keep her eyes closed long, no longer that worried about debris. She's already too injured to worry about a few more wounds. Instead, she opens her eyes as the pieces are still falling to the ground, trying to find where some of the shards go. The faster they find the seals, the sooner this is over. But the world is flickering faster now, flashes of Beqanna becoming vidid. She keeps losing track of the pieces as the worlds collide.
But she manages to track a few. There's a couple of pieces to the right, some in front, and some as far as the woods. There are others, she's sure, but she has no idea where.
She’s ready to take off; run-limping her way toward the piece of seal she saw falling off to the right. But then she notices Conquest and War halt in their tracks, notices their heads turn to find the next demon.
Then they turn tail and run. Her legs freeze, her heart racing, her breath catching in her throat. She doesn’t know what is coming for them. What Conquest’s haunting laugh and War’s battle cry could portend.
They disappear into the woods, taking the fight somewhere new. So far, they’ve been in the clearing. So far, they can see one another; can see what’s coming for them. But in the woods? She keeps watching, trying to see what’s lurking in the trees for them, what plague comes next.
There’s a sickly green flicker coming from the trees. Too bright, too vibrant, to belong to the muted world of purgatory. Too ghostly to be flashes of Beqanna coming though. His name doesn’t ring out like the others. It’s a whisper of the trees, and she almost doesn't hear it over the sound of her own breath.
Famine.
He doesn’t come for them, but she realizes that this makes sense. Famine never barrels toward you. He sits and waits for you find him. Waits for the black and white girl who has never known hunger. Never known pain. Never known fatigue. Never known anything but the Chamber and her raven. How she would kill to have her raven now, to send him after the pieces of the seal while she hid in a bush.
But her raven is not here. She killed the only raven in this world. Though there are still plenty of minions left, blocking their path to War and Conquest and Famine. The first line of defense. She can't fight her way through them again. She's too broken, too tired. She'll have to find a way around. And around means into the woods sooner.
But she’s not going to the woods yet. She looks to the mare beside her, looks to the stallion in front of her, trying to catch their attention. “Get the pieces of the seal first. Then surround him. We can't let him escape.”
She says, as loud as she can, trying to make sure her allies her. The effort of yelling sends a fresh way of pain through her side.
If they get the seals first, they weaken Famine. Then they can surround him, they can keep him from sneaking into Beqanna. Every time the world flashes though, she wonders if he’ll slip from one realm to the next. Wonders if they are doomed to fail.
She also wonders if she can slip back, leave them all here to fight without her. What can she offer them anyway? She has no traits, no fighting skills. She’s been nothing but lucky, with others getting hurt in her place.
But she knows she won’t abandon them, even if she could. So she doesn’t waste any more time, but heads off to the right. The seal, thank goodness, had fallen away from Famine, and she goes to look for it. She can’t run anymore, so she moves as a strange half pace. Not quite a walk, not quite a canter. It doesn’t take long for the minions to spring into action, and to catch her.
They're injured too, at least. They're growing tired as well, though not as fast as she tires. It is a slight help, but it's not much. She hears a low growl behind her, spins around in time to see a raccoon. Its natural black mask surrounds unnatural black eyes. Its claws are long and sharp, and she imagines one of those claws piercing her heart with ease. She imagines loosing an eye to those claws.
She turns back to her course, and doesn’t stop. She just keeps going, listening to the sound of it behind her, trying to judge where it is by the sound. But with the sounds of battle raging around her once again, she can’t quite judge how far behind her pursuer is. She’s a moment too late. Claws rake against the back of her right leg. She screams as lashing out, hoof connecting with some part of the animal.
She’d been hoping to kick at the last minute, but she was too untrained to get the timing right. The raccoon has been faster. At least the damage doesn’t seem to have been terrible. Her leg hurts as it hits the ground again, the blood warm as it drizzles down her leg. But it supports her weight, and she keeps going.
The seal isn’t far now. She can see it, and she covers the rest of the space without incident. Immediately, she reaches out her hoof and steps on the seal. The familiar weight of the world settles in her chest as the seal absorbs into her skin. She pauses for a moment, wondering if she can go on. There are only nine of them now. Nine horses to defend Beqanna against Conquest and Famine and War.
Their enemy might be weaker, but so far are they. And they still don’t know what the last seal will bring.
She shakes the thoughts from her head. That’s a road she can’t travel down. First Famine. First, they have to stop him. And she knows that means going into the woods now. Leaving the bloodbath behind her, loosing sight of her allies. She’s close to the woods at least though farther away from where Famine and the others are hiding. It’ll be harder to find them if she enters the woods now, but it might keep the minions away.
If she can lose the minions, she’ll be better off. There’s still the three demons to deal with, but she imagines they can find her without trying. She’ll take losing the minions at least. A few less claws and teeth to worry about will be beneficial.
She slips into the woods, glad for the excuse to move slower. The trees are dense, and whatever gray light she had in the clearing is gone in the trees. But she’s used to this. She’s grown up in the Chamber, spent her (albeit short) life inside the pine forests there. Here, she almost feels at home. Here, she feels a flicker of hope in heart again. She can survive this.
She moves through the woods at a steady pace, trying not to flinch at every sound that comes her way. She's still scared one of the minions will find her here. But the sounds don’t seem to leave the clearing, and she keeps moving forward as best she can. The world flickers now and again, throwing her off. She gets turned around a few times, stopping each time to look for that eerie green glow.
Every time she stops to look for Famine, her heart skips a beat, afraid he’s slipped into Beqanna. But every time she finds him. Every time he’s still trapped. After a few flickers, she knows she’s getting closer. She can feel hunger pangs, can feel herself growing weaker. Growing desperate for grass or milk or anything of substance. But there is nothing to eat here. And this is exactly what Famine wants.
It takes her some time, but finally, she can see him. A black coat like smoke billowing off him, green eyes and ghastly green glow. By now, the rumbling in her belly is audible. By now, her legs are shaking beneath her. It’s harder than keeping herself up against Conquest. Conquest wanted her to kneel. Famine will kill her from the inside out to get her on her knees.
She hears a snap behind her, whirling around just in time to see those yellow eyes. No. No no no. She scrambles backward, putting herself closer to Famine, trying to get away from Conquest. But it doesn’t matter. She’s too weak, too slow. He brushes by her, and her headache returns in an instant.
It’s not debilitating like the last time. Conquest is weaker, and she can feel the difference. But still, the headache is more than she can take. Between the hunger and the exhaustion and the broken rib and the cuts and now, this. She can only hope the fever doesn’t return this time. It doesn’t seem to be, and she thinks have one by now.
Conquest disappears back into the trees, his work done. War, at least, does not come find her. She doesn’t see him, and she hopes that her promise was enough to keep him away. Maybe he’s just busy with someone else. She should care more, worry more about her allies, but she doesn't. As long as he’s not coming for her, she'll take it. She turns again, facing Famine. She could play his game. She already had his seal, had that one tiny defense against him. Though still, she grows weaker by the minute.
She is not the first one here. The filly is off in the distance, sprawled on the ground, coming in and out of existence. That other mare is there, the one that Weaver finds vile and disgusting. They both fight against Famine now, they are both on the same side as Weaver. But that's only because they no longer have a choice (or so Weaver thinks, anyway).
These are not the horses she wants to see. Her allies aren't here yet, and she doesn't know if they will come. The minions could stop them. They could give up. Or they could have ignored her idea. But it's too late for her now. She's here. And she's choosing to believe that her friends will come too. They aren't just allies after all, not after all this. They are friends.
She just has to wait Famine out long enough for the others to gather the rest of the shards. Just long enough for them to get here, to surround him. It wouldn’t take them long. She hopes, at least. Because she doesn’t know how long she can keep fighting, how long she can stare Famine in the face and win.
The malicious grin on his face makes Weaver thinks he knows this too. He is patient, he is determined. But then, so is she.
weaver
weed and straia's chamber princess