<center><style> .nevermadeitasawiseman {background-image:url('https://s8.postimg.org/3ylmahiol/fornikolinetexture.png'); border: 1px solid black; width: 600px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 40px black;} .couldntcutitasapoormanstealin {background-image:url('https://s8.postimg.org/6retum679/fornikoline.png'); width: 600px; height: 400px;} .tiredoflivinlikeablindman {margin-top: -110px; color: #c8dace; text-shadow: -1px -1px black, -1px -1px black; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family georgia, serif; font-size: 1.2em; font-style: italic;} .imsickofsightwithoutasenseoffeelin {width: 520px; padding: 20px; background-color: rgba(147, 154, 130, 0.8); border: 1px solid black; border-bottom: 0px; font-family: times, serif; font-size: 0.9em; line-height: 1.2em; text-align: justify; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px black inset; color: black;} </style><div class="nevermadeitasawiseman"><div class="couldntcutitasapoormanstealin"></div><div class="tiredoflivinlikeablindman">Amidst the mists and coldest frosts
he thrusts his fists against the posts
and still insists he sees the ghosts</div><div class="imsickofsightwithoutasenseoffeelin">It is unusual for the forest mare to yearn for the ocean's salty breeze. She much more preferred to wander the tall trunks with their peeling hides, small wooly worms crawling diligently up their spines to only what they knew. The bay and white mare enjoyed the feel of their little feet as they brushed against her nose when she would curiously investigate the and ask where they were going (but only to be answered with silence of course).
The sound of the ocean soon replaces the lull of a winter crow's cry, the air shifting from bone cold to a warm breeze that defrosts her joints and the edges of her fur so that it lays matted to her sides along with the slow froth of sweat at the tender creases on her lithe form. She rests only when her nails are dipping into the water and the sound of the water's siren song has ceased. Pale eyes flick to the horizon as a low illumination is off
creeping to her right. Niko enjoys the rain and the feel of a warm shower seeping into her fur and washing away the sins in her hair but the thunderhead is black and angry.
This storm threatens her very existence.
Nikoline does not notice the way the fog curls around her legs from the water's surface. It breathes against her and offers to covet her against the storm's roaring breast. She shivers, one...twice. The air is alive as the sky begins to boil like a hot spring. The sky becomes bruised with black and purple, green threatens the edges and Niko stands like a mad woman against the wind as it tears at her white hair as though she were a lost ship at sea. The sea glass eyes water against the wind but she cannot look away from the waves as they begin to churn and rise, threatening to batter her if she were to give into their hypnotic beckoning.
Water licks against her ankles and it shakes her from a daze that she has not realized has taken over her. She feels like a straight-jacketed woman and cannot seem to move. There should be panic but instead a sickening placidity soothes her feverish brow as she looks over the water. The waves crash, the scent of something rotten lives close by...
She closes her eyes.
<b>"Nikoline."</b> A voice is whisperijg her name with split lips and rolling eyes. A ragged voice she had recognized from her foal hood. The voice of a dead woman.
She squeezes her eyes hard like she did as a foal.
Her breath catches in her chest, choked by the fearful gurgling scream that threatens to retch just below the surface. The dead woman has a grip on her throat as the form emerges against the waves, a voice given only to a body as the tide swells and the thrashing white of seafoam emerges. (the water licks against her knees) The black and white form of her mother (she never loved you) is in the waves as she desperately struggled to swim in the seafoam before the wave crashes and the woman is gone. <b>"Nikoline!"</b> The wave slams her chest as fat rain is falling hard against her painted skin. Hadn't she only blinked? The salt is in her mouth, on her tongue, in her eyes. her heart pounds like the surf around her. She can hear panting in her ear despite the thrashing waters and the break of the storm over head, thunder cracking like bones. Niko grits her teeth as she attempts to calm herself, attempts to move, attempts to fight the hold...
She opens her eyes just as Syntyche is hurling towards her, riding the wave like a witch's broom, screaming with her hair in gnarled patches and curling lips to expose rotted teeth with her eyes rimmed red with blood. <b>"RUN, LITTLE BITCH, RUN!!!"</B> Niko screams just before the wave mare smashes her to the sand to fill her throat with too much water. She struggles but the darkness of the fading light and the burn of saltwater soon bury her in a smothering embrace.
----------
The tug of something awakens her. Her mouth feels dry and her lips are sore.
Everything -hurts-.
Lids slide open to look up to see a seagull tugging at a tangled knot of her once pristinely white mane.
<b>"Ow."</b> She croaks and the bird stops to look at her with its beady glass eyes...doll's eyes. It turns it head to the side before taking wing as if to show it was not scared.
But Niko is...
She draws her tired and battered legs beneath her. The strings and pulleys that work her joints, move her flesh with bright flashes of pain and gritted teeth. A century passes before she is fully erect despite the quake of her body. The sound and scents of others flood over the small embankment to the pale silky sand of the beach. More horses like her with vibrant coats and glittering eyes. Niko swallows, her throat burns, a single horse steps forward. Nikoline shivers but she is not sure if it is because of the sand or her ravenous thirst (later she will know it is both). The horse, a ruby stallion with gold eyes, stops not far off from her. He tilts his head (much like the seagull) but instead of fluttering away, he grins.
<b>"I'm Jack."</b>
----------
Niko wakes in the same way every day since water brought her. She rises from her thatched lean-to, walks to the sweet spring, splashes her face and then drinks deeply. It was all the same since Jack and the others found her and nursed her and made her one of their own.
They had become <i>family</i>. The very first she had ever had since she could remember.
The bright scent of the calamasi tree near her domicile always woke her with a smile...but there is something else in the air. The brightness of the citrus is dulled and tinny. It tasted like acid on her tongue. Something was wrong...very, <i>very</i> wrong. The painted mare lifts her head (now healed except for tiny pink scar on her brow) to call. Ears are forward as her legs become higher, her fear rising with each pace, the 'whoosh-whoosh' of blood nearly deafens her.
Another call- <b>"Anyone?"</b>
And another, <b>"Esme? Lola?! LEO?!</b> Her chest rises and falls in heaves as no one is answering and there is blood in the thin mist of the morning. It saturates her skin, driving the fear deeper into her pores and scarring her bones. The painted woman calls shrilly, animalistic like days of her ancestors as they summoned the herd. But-
<i>(hush, hush)</i>
The voice is weak, <b>"Niko..."</b> She nearly steps on Penelope, the amethyst mare, in her panic. <b>"Oh Penny!"</b> Niko exclaims as she has woken the bright mare. <b>"Something's wrong..."</b> Dread fills her voice and nearly spills into her eyes as the other woman is soon to her feet. It does not take long for the pair to find the others.
Peter. Lana. Abigail. Leo. Lola. Esme. George. Penny. Veruca.
Niko counts- <i>(Where's Jack?)</i>
<b>"Where's Jack?!"</b> The ruby stallion. Her closest friend, her very BEST friend. The same stallion who had found her, befriended, cared for her and stayed with her. She looks from one panicked face to the other...they mirror her own as she looks to the horizon in hopes the familiar red form would show.
But he doesn't.
<b>"We need to go! We need to find Jack!"</b> Lola exclaims and the others nod. Niko agrees with them and turns east toward the rising sun in hopes to find her best friend. She can only imagine how scared he must be to be alone and so far away from her and the rest of the family. The jungle lay ahead of them in it's darkness and oddness but they can pick the minute traces of Jack along the banana leaves and damp soil. He must be here! There was no turning back if the equines were to find the red man. They exchange worried glances only briefly before they all disappear into the thick of the jungle and all that may lay in wait with Niko leading them all along to find her closest friend with nothing more than worry for his wellness to drive away the ghosts that lurk just beyond her sight in in the corners of her eyes.<div style="text-align: center; font-size: 1.2em; color: black; text-shadow: -1px -1px #c8dace, -1px -1px #c8dace; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia, serif; margin-top: 20px;">nikoline</div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">barret x syntyche</div></div></div></center>
he thrusts his fists against the posts
and still insists he sees the ghosts</div><div class="imsickofsightwithoutasenseoffeelin">It is unusual for the forest mare to yearn for the ocean's salty breeze. She much more preferred to wander the tall trunks with their peeling hides, small wooly worms crawling diligently up their spines to only what they knew. The bay and white mare enjoyed the feel of their little feet as they brushed against her nose when she would curiously investigate the and ask where they were going (but only to be answered with silence of course).
The sound of the ocean soon replaces the lull of a winter crow's cry, the air shifting from bone cold to a warm breeze that defrosts her joints and the edges of her fur so that it lays matted to her sides along with the slow froth of sweat at the tender creases on her lithe form. She rests only when her nails are dipping into the water and the sound of the water's siren song has ceased. Pale eyes flick to the horizon as a low illumination is off
creeping to her right. Niko enjoys the rain and the feel of a warm shower seeping into her fur and washing away the sins in her hair but the thunderhead is black and angry.
This storm threatens her very existence.
Nikoline does not notice the way the fog curls around her legs from the water's surface. It breathes against her and offers to covet her against the storm's roaring breast. She shivers, one...twice. The air is alive as the sky begins to boil like a hot spring. The sky becomes bruised with black and purple, green threatens the edges and Niko stands like a mad woman against the wind as it tears at her white hair as though she were a lost ship at sea. The sea glass eyes water against the wind but she cannot look away from the waves as they begin to churn and rise, threatening to batter her if she were to give into their hypnotic beckoning.
Water licks against her ankles and it shakes her from a daze that she has not realized has taken over her. She feels like a straight-jacketed woman and cannot seem to move. There should be panic but instead a sickening placidity soothes her feverish brow as she looks over the water. The waves crash, the scent of something rotten lives close by...
She closes her eyes.
<b>"Nikoline."</b> A voice is whisperijg her name with split lips and rolling eyes. A ragged voice she had recognized from her foal hood. The voice of a dead woman.
She squeezes her eyes hard like she did as a foal.
Her breath catches in her chest, choked by the fearful gurgling scream that threatens to retch just below the surface. The dead woman has a grip on her throat as the form emerges against the waves, a voice given only to a body as the tide swells and the thrashing white of seafoam emerges. (the water licks against her knees) The black and white form of her mother (she never loved you) is in the waves as she desperately struggled to swim in the seafoam before the wave crashes and the woman is gone. <b>"Nikoline!"</b> The wave slams her chest as fat rain is falling hard against her painted skin. Hadn't she only blinked? The salt is in her mouth, on her tongue, in her eyes. her heart pounds like the surf around her. She can hear panting in her ear despite the thrashing waters and the break of the storm over head, thunder cracking like bones. Niko grits her teeth as she attempts to calm herself, attempts to move, attempts to fight the hold...
She opens her eyes just as Syntyche is hurling towards her, riding the wave like a witch's broom, screaming with her hair in gnarled patches and curling lips to expose rotted teeth with her eyes rimmed red with blood. <b>"RUN, LITTLE BITCH, RUN!!!"</B> Niko screams just before the wave mare smashes her to the sand to fill her throat with too much water. She struggles but the darkness of the fading light and the burn of saltwater soon bury her in a smothering embrace.
----------
The tug of something awakens her. Her mouth feels dry and her lips are sore.
Everything -hurts-.
Lids slide open to look up to see a seagull tugging at a tangled knot of her once pristinely white mane.
<b>"Ow."</b> She croaks and the bird stops to look at her with its beady glass eyes...doll's eyes. It turns it head to the side before taking wing as if to show it was not scared.
But Niko is...
She draws her tired and battered legs beneath her. The strings and pulleys that work her joints, move her flesh with bright flashes of pain and gritted teeth. A century passes before she is fully erect despite the quake of her body. The sound and scents of others flood over the small embankment to the pale silky sand of the beach. More horses like her with vibrant coats and glittering eyes. Niko swallows, her throat burns, a single horse steps forward. Nikoline shivers but she is not sure if it is because of the sand or her ravenous thirst (later she will know it is both). The horse, a ruby stallion with gold eyes, stops not far off from her. He tilts his head (much like the seagull) but instead of fluttering away, he grins.
<b>"I'm Jack."</b>
----------
Niko wakes in the same way every day since water brought her. She rises from her thatched lean-to, walks to the sweet spring, splashes her face and then drinks deeply. It was all the same since Jack and the others found her and nursed her and made her one of their own.
They had become <i>family</i>. The very first she had ever had since she could remember.
The bright scent of the calamasi tree near her domicile always woke her with a smile...but there is something else in the air. The brightness of the citrus is dulled and tinny. It tasted like acid on her tongue. Something was wrong...very, <i>very</i> wrong. The painted mare lifts her head (now healed except for tiny pink scar on her brow) to call. Ears are forward as her legs become higher, her fear rising with each pace, the 'whoosh-whoosh' of blood nearly deafens her.
Another call- <b>"Anyone?"</b>
And another, <b>"Esme? Lola?! LEO?!</b> Her chest rises and falls in heaves as no one is answering and there is blood in the thin mist of the morning. It saturates her skin, driving the fear deeper into her pores and scarring her bones. The painted woman calls shrilly, animalistic like days of her ancestors as they summoned the herd. But-
<i>(hush, hush)</i>
The voice is weak, <b>"Niko..."</b> She nearly steps on Penelope, the amethyst mare, in her panic. <b>"Oh Penny!"</b> Niko exclaims as she has woken the bright mare. <b>"Something's wrong..."</b> Dread fills her voice and nearly spills into her eyes as the other woman is soon to her feet. It does not take long for the pair to find the others.
Peter. Lana. Abigail. Leo. Lola. Esme. George. Penny. Veruca.
Niko counts- <i>(Where's Jack?)</i>
<b>"Where's Jack?!"</b> The ruby stallion. Her closest friend, her very BEST friend. The same stallion who had found her, befriended, cared for her and stayed with her. She looks from one panicked face to the other...they mirror her own as she looks to the horizon in hopes the familiar red form would show.
But he doesn't.
<b>"We need to go! We need to find Jack!"</b> Lola exclaims and the others nod. Niko agrees with them and turns east toward the rising sun in hopes to find her best friend. She can only imagine how scared he must be to be alone and so far away from her and the rest of the family. The jungle lay ahead of them in it's darkness and oddness but they can pick the minute traces of Jack along the banana leaves and damp soil. He must be here! There was no turning back if the equines were to find the red man. They exchange worried glances only briefly before they all disappear into the thick of the jungle and all that may lay in wait with Niko leading them all along to find her closest friend with nothing more than worry for his wellness to drive away the ghosts that lurk just beyond her sight in in the corners of her eyes.<div style="text-align: center; font-size: 1.2em; color: black; text-shadow: -1px -1px #c8dace, -1px -1px #c8dace; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia, serif; margin-top: 20px;">nikoline</div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">barret x syntyche</div></div></div></center>