10-06-2017, 05:31 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Dancing+Script|Pacifico" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.DVC_container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 500px;height: 990px;padding: 15px;background: #1B1B1B url('https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/3a/57/f5/3a57f5737062052a28cf11e813ca7144.jpg') no-repeat center top;border: 0px solid #fff;box-shadow: 0 0 1em #000;}.DVC_container1 {position: relative;z-index: 5;width: 450px;height: 445px;padding: 2px;background: transparent;border-left: 4px solid #F1D3B9;border-right: 4px solid #F1D3B9;margin-top: 520px;border-radius: 50px;}.DVC_container1 p {margin: 0;}.DVC_message {text-align: justify;font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif;padding: 0px;color: #D5B199;width: 400px;height: 350px;overflow: auto;}.DVC_message::-webkit-scrollbar {width: 1px;background: transparent;}.DVC_name {text-align: center;font: 40px 'Dancing Script', cursive;color: #EDE0D0;padding: 0px;text-shadow: 2px 2px 4px #fff;}.DVC_quote {text-align: center;font: 14px 'Pacifico', cursive;color: #EDE0D0;padding: 10px 0;}</style><center><div class="DVC_container"><div class="DVC_container1"><p class="DVC_name">-Diorae-</p><p class="DVC_message">A part of her was desperate to show her distress – show, since she was not able to do it audibly by crying out loudly in a whinny. To walk around in circles in her cell, hooves sliding over the slippery stones. Slippery due to her own stool. Distress had made her want to flick her tail up to do so, but that only reminded her of the stomp with a few blonde hairs that was now her tail.
Food and water untouched, or perhaps it wasn’t even there. Marigold didn’t bother to look. She wasn’t hungry… No, scratch that. She ís hungry, but not calm enough to actually eat. Nauseous too, the distress and fear holding her in a tight gasp. With the darkness the eyes had come back to haunt her. And haunting her they did. Marigold would swear they sometimes reached out to touch her, sending shivers up her spine and making her jolt with an audible cry as she jumped forward. But every time when she turned around, there was nothing to be seen again.
Another part wanted to just huddle in the corner and cry. Cry of that what she was missing, for her happy paradise bubble that had burst. She had felt loved, cared for, safe. Longclaw had looked after her. Like he had promised he would. It simply made her very depressed, Marigold needed her blue protector. But instead, she was now alone. So utterly alone. Or wasn’t she?
Of course she isn’t. Hé had come for her, simply because he wasn’t done playing yet. Her paradise already destroyed. And he would continue destroying until nothing was left of her. ”To escape..” His first two words have all her attention, and she’s desperate to hear how to free herself, how to escape. Because Marigold longs to get back to Longclaw. Even with the anti-wolf brand and her now short tail. She needs her guide and guardian more than ever. She would do anything. ”.. you must destroy the thing you love.”
Or maybe not. His words are like a slap into the face. She stumbles backwards further into the corner too, her lowered head rising a little as her hazel eyes widen. This must be a joke, this couldn’t be true. How could she kill Longclaw? The thought alone has Marigold shaken. Tears well up in her eyes as desperation grows. She needed him. She needed his guidance, his protection, him. Around her. And he couldn’t be if she killed him. In distress she lifts her right foreleg, to scrape her hoof over the ground. No. ”Or..” That was all he needed to say to pull her out of her panicked thoughts. ”you can stay. Sacrifice yourself instead.”
Oh yes, Marigold wanted out. Wanted to go back to Longclaw. But she couldn’t when he was gone. And how was she supposed to kill him? One look and she would submit, lower herself and give in and thus sacrifice herself.
But when the cell door opens – this time it had been locked – it’s not Longclaw who walks in. Instead of that she finds herself staring into another very familiar face. One she hasn’t seen in ages. One she wasn’t even sure if she were still alive. With a sinking heart Marigold realises that Longclaw isn’t the one she loved most. If she even loved him at all. Yes, she wanted to love him, and yes she desperately needed him. But did she love him? Maybe.
Slowly Diorae – Marigold is the mare that Longclaw helped shaping, Diorae the one with a past – rises her head, ears hesitantly turning forwards as her hazel eyes start to shine. For a moment she forget the task on hand and takes a tiny step away from the corner she had been huddled into. Her whole body language creamed motherly – or grandmaly – love. If she had been able to speak, she would’ve gently asked ‘Edward, sweetie, is that you?’ Her one and only grandson. And didn’t a grandmother always love and spoil their one and only grandchild?
A palomino, just like herself and her daughter Holli. Diorae remembers seeing him as a newborn colt, still fuzzy with his baby coat and hiding the beautiful dapples, which are showing now. He’s bigger than she remembers, but she doesn’t realise that he isn’t as big as he should be. She had been away from Beqanna for quite a couple of years.
With hím silent and the sudden awareness of her grandson, Diorae temporary forgets about their surroundings, the danger, and most of all, her task. The first few hesitant steps are soon followed by more and with tears rolling down her cheeks she cradles the boy against her chest. He feels solid, alive, and she can feel his heart beat is she keeps still enough. Both her ears are pinned forward now. There is not a spot on his body that she leave undiscovered, kissing, gently lipping and nuzzling him all the way from top to bottom. Edward was still alive. He had survived the change. It made Diorae hopeful that her own daughter was doing well too. If she could only ask..
That was something Diorae would do. Marigold not so much. Marigold didn’t speak, let alone ask things. Marigold accepted and obeyed. And it was Marigold who wanted desperately to go back to Longclaw. Would her longing for Longclaw be bigger and stronger than Diorae’s love for her grandson?
The boy talked and talked, telling his grandma about all his accomplishments. How hard he could run, who he had beat, his discovery journeys through the lands, from forest to beach and beyond the eye could see. Like a child, he doesn’t notice that his words fall to deaf ears. And it wasn’t like Diorae was able to reply. No, that’s not correct. Diorae would reply, not verbally, but with her body. She would smile and nod, as to tell him to continue, and gently lip and tug at his ears, just to tease him.
Marigold on the other hand. To her, the colt was multiple things. Both the key and the obstacle she had to overcome to get to her freedom. It was also the way back to Longclaw. And she desperately wanted to get back to him.
For a moment she stands frozen, the colt pulled in close to her chest again. With the very simple reason to not show him how conflicted she was, how much Diorae was fighting Marigold, all in order to not let her take over control. Her eyes are squeezed shut and ears are pressed back against her skull and through her tightly grit together teeth, her breathing is harsh. First she tenses her muscles, but she cannot stop from starting to tremble soon after.
Edward notices, how could he not? ”Gran?” she can hear him ask, before he starts backing away. Questioning he looks up to her, his head tilted slightly as his scan her face. Diorae desperately wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he shouldn’t worry, but it’s Marigold who starts to take over. All she sees is a prey, the now trembling colt, locked in a cell with her. And oh, the sweet taste of victory is already in her mouth. If she could, she would’ve growled at him, rather loudly too.
Diorae’s hold had slipped, pushed back into a silent corner of her mind. The very same place as she had been tucked away to ever since Longclaw had come along. What happens next is a mess. A big, bloody one.
Marigold rushes forward with bared teeth. Her ears are still pressed back against her skull, despair and anger in her hazel eyes. She could already see a glimpse of victory. Her hooves slip over the stones on the ground, the ones coated with stool, but it doesn’t delay her attack on the boy much. You could compare her to a raging dragon, or mad wolf, except for the noises they would make. Her teeth nip at the golden boy, digging into and ripping away his flesh.
Of course he tries to get away, but it’s only so far he can run. And Edward is no match for the she-wolf influenced mare. His blood coats both their golden coats red. He is bleeding from his wounds, and Marigold’s chest has blood spatters all over, the boy’s blood also dripped from her mouth. But it wasn’t enough.
She jumps forward, once again ready to strike. She rears and throws all her weight on him and his already weakened body isn’t able keep him standing with her weight down on him. He crumbles at the ground. Her hooves crush him, break more of his bones each time she lands. Her full body weight is thrown in there, he doesn’t have a chance. Marigold doesn’t know when he had let his last breath escape past his lips, but by the time she stops, he’s already dead.
Sweat paints her golden coat dark and her breath is raging. Her sides rise and fall rapidly in sync with her breathy pants. For a moment Marigold can only stare at the body that lies in front of her. Inside, Diorae cries, enraged and in agony. She doesn’t get a chance to mourn, forced to shut up and imprisoned in her own mind. Marigold, however, doesn’t waste time looking at the dead body.
The door had opened again. Last time hé had kept his promise. She had been able to build a paradise, but only after paying the toll. This time she had paid the price too, she had killed the thing she loved most. But Marigold had been desperate enough, out of her mind too. Longclaw. That was her price this time. Not her freedom, but his guidance and protection. She bolts through the open door without glancing back even once.</p><p class="DVC_quote">A beautiful face is a mute recommendation.</p></div></center>
OOC: Diorae kills her grandson Edward, so she can get out.
Food and water untouched, or perhaps it wasn’t even there. Marigold didn’t bother to look. She wasn’t hungry… No, scratch that. She ís hungry, but not calm enough to actually eat. Nauseous too, the distress and fear holding her in a tight gasp. With the darkness the eyes had come back to haunt her. And haunting her they did. Marigold would swear they sometimes reached out to touch her, sending shivers up her spine and making her jolt with an audible cry as she jumped forward. But every time when she turned around, there was nothing to be seen again.
Another part wanted to just huddle in the corner and cry. Cry of that what she was missing, for her happy paradise bubble that had burst. She had felt loved, cared for, safe. Longclaw had looked after her. Like he had promised he would. It simply made her very depressed, Marigold needed her blue protector. But instead, she was now alone. So utterly alone. Or wasn’t she?
Of course she isn’t. Hé had come for her, simply because he wasn’t done playing yet. Her paradise already destroyed. And he would continue destroying until nothing was left of her. ”To escape..” His first two words have all her attention, and she’s desperate to hear how to free herself, how to escape. Because Marigold longs to get back to Longclaw. Even with the anti-wolf brand and her now short tail. She needs her guide and guardian more than ever. She would do anything. ”.. you must destroy the thing you love.”
Or maybe not. His words are like a slap into the face. She stumbles backwards further into the corner too, her lowered head rising a little as her hazel eyes widen. This must be a joke, this couldn’t be true. How could she kill Longclaw? The thought alone has Marigold shaken. Tears well up in her eyes as desperation grows. She needed him. She needed his guidance, his protection, him. Around her. And he couldn’t be if she killed him. In distress she lifts her right foreleg, to scrape her hoof over the ground. No. ”Or..” That was all he needed to say to pull her out of her panicked thoughts. ”you can stay. Sacrifice yourself instead.”
Oh yes, Marigold wanted out. Wanted to go back to Longclaw. But she couldn’t when he was gone. And how was she supposed to kill him? One look and she would submit, lower herself and give in and thus sacrifice herself.
But when the cell door opens – this time it had been locked – it’s not Longclaw who walks in. Instead of that she finds herself staring into another very familiar face. One she hasn’t seen in ages. One she wasn’t even sure if she were still alive. With a sinking heart Marigold realises that Longclaw isn’t the one she loved most. If she even loved him at all. Yes, she wanted to love him, and yes she desperately needed him. But did she love him? Maybe.
Slowly Diorae – Marigold is the mare that Longclaw helped shaping, Diorae the one with a past – rises her head, ears hesitantly turning forwards as her hazel eyes start to shine. For a moment she forget the task on hand and takes a tiny step away from the corner she had been huddled into. Her whole body language creamed motherly – or grandmaly – love. If she had been able to speak, she would’ve gently asked ‘Edward, sweetie, is that you?’ Her one and only grandson. And didn’t a grandmother always love and spoil their one and only grandchild?
A palomino, just like herself and her daughter Holli. Diorae remembers seeing him as a newborn colt, still fuzzy with his baby coat and hiding the beautiful dapples, which are showing now. He’s bigger than she remembers, but she doesn’t realise that he isn’t as big as he should be. She had been away from Beqanna for quite a couple of years.
With hím silent and the sudden awareness of her grandson, Diorae temporary forgets about their surroundings, the danger, and most of all, her task. The first few hesitant steps are soon followed by more and with tears rolling down her cheeks she cradles the boy against her chest. He feels solid, alive, and she can feel his heart beat is she keeps still enough. Both her ears are pinned forward now. There is not a spot on his body that she leave undiscovered, kissing, gently lipping and nuzzling him all the way from top to bottom. Edward was still alive. He had survived the change. It made Diorae hopeful that her own daughter was doing well too. If she could only ask..
That was something Diorae would do. Marigold not so much. Marigold didn’t speak, let alone ask things. Marigold accepted and obeyed. And it was Marigold who wanted desperately to go back to Longclaw. Would her longing for Longclaw be bigger and stronger than Diorae’s love for her grandson?
The boy talked and talked, telling his grandma about all his accomplishments. How hard he could run, who he had beat, his discovery journeys through the lands, from forest to beach and beyond the eye could see. Like a child, he doesn’t notice that his words fall to deaf ears. And it wasn’t like Diorae was able to reply. No, that’s not correct. Diorae would reply, not verbally, but with her body. She would smile and nod, as to tell him to continue, and gently lip and tug at his ears, just to tease him.
Marigold on the other hand. To her, the colt was multiple things. Both the key and the obstacle she had to overcome to get to her freedom. It was also the way back to Longclaw. And she desperately wanted to get back to him.
For a moment she stands frozen, the colt pulled in close to her chest again. With the very simple reason to not show him how conflicted she was, how much Diorae was fighting Marigold, all in order to not let her take over control. Her eyes are squeezed shut and ears are pressed back against her skull and through her tightly grit together teeth, her breathing is harsh. First she tenses her muscles, but she cannot stop from starting to tremble soon after.
Edward notices, how could he not? ”Gran?” she can hear him ask, before he starts backing away. Questioning he looks up to her, his head tilted slightly as his scan her face. Diorae desperately wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he shouldn’t worry, but it’s Marigold who starts to take over. All she sees is a prey, the now trembling colt, locked in a cell with her. And oh, the sweet taste of victory is already in her mouth. If she could, she would’ve growled at him, rather loudly too.
Diorae’s hold had slipped, pushed back into a silent corner of her mind. The very same place as she had been tucked away to ever since Longclaw had come along. What happens next is a mess. A big, bloody one.
Marigold rushes forward with bared teeth. Her ears are still pressed back against her skull, despair and anger in her hazel eyes. She could already see a glimpse of victory. Her hooves slip over the stones on the ground, the ones coated with stool, but it doesn’t delay her attack on the boy much. You could compare her to a raging dragon, or mad wolf, except for the noises they would make. Her teeth nip at the golden boy, digging into and ripping away his flesh.
Of course he tries to get away, but it’s only so far he can run. And Edward is no match for the she-wolf influenced mare. His blood coats both their golden coats red. He is bleeding from his wounds, and Marigold’s chest has blood spatters all over, the boy’s blood also dripped from her mouth. But it wasn’t enough.
She jumps forward, once again ready to strike. She rears and throws all her weight on him and his already weakened body isn’t able keep him standing with her weight down on him. He crumbles at the ground. Her hooves crush him, break more of his bones each time she lands. Her full body weight is thrown in there, he doesn’t have a chance. Marigold doesn’t know when he had let his last breath escape past his lips, but by the time she stops, he’s already dead.
Sweat paints her golden coat dark and her breath is raging. Her sides rise and fall rapidly in sync with her breathy pants. For a moment Marigold can only stare at the body that lies in front of her. Inside, Diorae cries, enraged and in agony. She doesn’t get a chance to mourn, forced to shut up and imprisoned in her own mind. Marigold, however, doesn’t waste time looking at the dead body.
The door had opened again. Last time hé had kept his promise. She had been able to build a paradise, but only after paying the toll. This time she had paid the price too, she had killed the thing she loved most. But Marigold had been desperate enough, out of her mind too. Longclaw. That was her price this time. Not her freedom, but his guidance and protection. She bolts through the open door without glancing back even once.</p><p class="DVC_quote">A beautiful face is a mute recommendation.</p></div></center>
OOC: Diorae kills her grandson Edward, so she can get out.