"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The whitewash sands of the Beach has been home for far too long. They stretch for eternity and each day she simply walks. Crescent moons pressed into the sands trail behind her, only to be lapped up by the to and fro of the waters, erasing her very existence. She is but an Angel here amongst the dead and dying. She offers her services to those that wish them. Healing wounds of war and loosening the grip of disease. Those that decline or are far too gone, their bodies riddle the shoreline, festering before they are swallowed up by time. Time is all we have, and she has spent too much of it lost in her sorrows.
She looks out of place in this land. Her gown of emerald feathers is vibrant and shines under the light of the moon tonight. She moves slowly along the path that should be well beaten by her daily pacing, but it is renewed with each wave. She finds it both ironic and inspiring tonight; how the tread of years upon the shores can be forgiven so easily. As if each rush of water and sand filling in the holes is a rendition of her life. A life filled with holes. Holes that had been filled by those she loved and created by those very loved ones. The biggest crater in her heart is that of her love, Diablo. Why had she not been there to save him like she had done to countless others? Truthfully, she blames herself. She has yet to forgive herself like the waves have forgiven her trespasses upon their shores.
Perhaps she has lingered here so long because she had hoped to see him again. Not accepting the fate that had fallen upon him, them. Maybe she had felt purpose here that filled those holes they had left within her. She hadn't even had the strength to raise their children. The children she had always wanted but not this way. Not alone. She wallows in self-pity; it wasn't like her. She was stronger than this. Better than this. There had to be something more for her in this life or why had she held onto it for so long? She could have just ended it. Walked out into the sea to be swallowed. Forgotten like so many others. Her pacing stops then and her elegant face casts to the skies. Amber eyes scan the heavens as if looking for the answers she seeks. The galaxies twist in glorious colors of pink and purple tonight but they remain silent.
She exhales deeply as she closes her eyes. "Give me a sign please," she begs into the crisp night air.
02-14-2024, 07:12 PM (This post was last modified: 02-14-2024, 07:18 PM by Jack in the Box.)
He hangs his head at the waves that ebb and flow against the pale sand. The smell of the sea is calming to him. He inhales as the salt tickles his nose. The dark bay stallion sighs sadly, feeling lost. Where do I go from here? He looks up, seeing a liver chestnut mare pacing against the dark, empty sky. He slowly makes his way over. "Hi..." He says her. "I'm Jack." His big, dark, 17.3 hh thoroughbred body towering over her. He backs up a bit, trying to not be too overbearing. "I'm sorry... I'll leave you alone if you want.." He says, unable to get a read on the mare. "Are you ok?"
His heart aches. His heart aches for his old life, his owner. He sighs softly, not knowing how to survive as a wild horse. It's been years since his release, but he's never truly adapted to being a wild horse. Throughbreds aren't supposed to be wild. They're supposed to be in a warm stall, with unlimited hay and treats and love. Kyra. What is she up to? Did she survive? Why haven't they come for him? Did they still think about him? Did they love him?
Please come back for me if you're out there.. I want to come home..
02-15-2024, 05:51 PM (This post was last modified: 02-15-2024, 05:52 PM by AuroraElis.)
AuroraElis
The gentle breeze of the ocean ruffles her bright plumage gown; much like the lithe dress of a young maiden. The cloak -bestowed upon her by the gracious magic of Beqanna- hides the hideous scars of her past. A past that fades to a distant memory, which she is grateful for.
With head skyward and eyes closed in prayer, she does not hear another approach through the rambling of her own thoughts. It is only when she hears a greeting and a name that her conscious mind returns. She does not make any movement, she simply listens. His voice does not sound sickly, though there is a pain she can feel in his tone. A pain much like her own, a lack of assurance she has shared. Without even a twitch of her ears she replies softly, "I have been better Jack..." Her pause lingers but before he can speak or flee she adds, "And you Jack, are you ok?"
As the question is released from her lips her head lowers and her neck curls to allow her golden flecked eyes to view him. Her golden locks dangle delicately from her necks crest, mirroring the light of the moon. "You do not look wounded, and you do not sound sick Jack. So, what has brought you here to the Beach?" She holds her magic within her fore she has a feeling it will do no good here, even if he asked for her help in healing the broken pieces of himself...
His chocolate hazel eyes drop from her to the ground. “I-I’m ok I think,” He didn’t realize the beach is for those who were sick, or dying. Although, he does feel like a part of him is dying. His old life is dying. One that he never realized he would’ve missed. “I wandered and found the beach,”. He looks at her, almost in awe of how different of a horse she looked. He’s never seen another horse with feathers before. He’s used to running around on a track, hearing the loud commotion as he had walked out of the barn, going to the paddock before his jockey mounted. Prancing to the track, ready to leave it on the track, but his heart was never into racing. He thought it was until he met Kyra.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I guess, I’m not supposed to be here,” he says with his head down, investigating the sand and the small crustacean crabs that skitter around. His ears flick around a bunch trying to understand what these creatures are under him.
Her hooves remain unmoved, pressed gently into the sands. The gravitational pull of the atmosphere causes the waves to stretch farther up the shoreline, leaving the waters to lick gently at her ivory legs before receding into the abyss once more. With each pass, the creatures of the sands and night, become exposed and then buried. They scuttle about trying to find morsels that the waters carry to them. She has watched them many times and she smiles gently as the newcomers interest is also peaked with their trivial lives.
The explanation he gives is one that is familiar to her. She is forever a wanderer; never remaining in one place for too long. It is not because she wishes to not settle, she just hasn't found anything to keep her hooves planted on. Everything she has found was ripped out from under her and so wandering has become all she has known.
What he says next is foreign to her and it is shown by the tilt in her head. Her dark eyes search the stallion for clues as if there were something to be found in his exterior that would explain. Her voice is soft as she probes for understanding, "Wild? I am afraid I do not know what you mean." Beqanna is not all that the elegant mare has known, but wild -or not wild- is something she is unfamiliar with.
The colors of her plumes captivate him. "I've never seen such incredible colors before." The brisk, salty sea breeze blow them softly against her flaxen coat. He doesn't notice her head tilt, until she mentions his wild comment. He looks to her softly, also confused. "Y-Yeah.. wild...like not tamed??" he says softly, not in a sarcastic, but confuzzled way. He takes a step back, worried that what he's about to say is going to cause her to turn away from him. "N-Never mind.."
She waits quietly for his response. Her mind muses what wild could mean. Was it a state of mind? An unbridled freedom that tied one to no one place or thing. If so then wild is all she has ever been and all she has ever known.
"I see," she says simply and with mild understanding. Her previous musings come back to her, and she only assumes this is what he had meant. She could see in his eyes, in his demeanor that he was not a wild creature like so many she has met before. This world was full of wicked, evil beings and wild ones alike. She has met many in her time here. Some very recently. She has been broken time and time again, each time she got up and fought harder. Fought for a tameness, if that was a term. She thinks of her recent encounter here and of the faint words she had heard before blacking out. He would be back for her, for them, so she decides it best to not linger here any longer.
With a flicker of consciousness returning to her eyes, she rises her head to speak kindly, "Well Jack, I feel my welcome here at the Beach has worn out. What would you say to us wandering elsewhere to find someplace less wild?" There is a pause in her step for his reply before moving in a northern direction.
AuroraElis
