"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
12-13-2015, 11:51 AM (This post was last modified: 12-13-2015, 12:01 PM by Tirzah.)
in a mad world, only the mad are sane
Broken. That is what she was. Broken.
Tirzah had not been the same since that day her mother entered her mind. She could do nothing to stop her. Prague came in and took over, shoved her away to some corner. Prague owned everything during that time her motions, her words. When she had what she wanted she left without putting everything back. Her own mother had fractured her mind. Things were missing, and she often slipped away to the darkness. Her mother had left her a crumpled up mess, a paper ball thrown on the floor- discarded. Insignificant. Broken.
The chestnut looked normal from the outside. She wasn’t deformed; she wasn’t super fined boned, being the daughter of Prague and Jason, but living in the shadows had left her soft, muscle not as toned as they should be. She had stayed out of sight since that terrible day when Prague discarded her. The shadows had been her refuge, and she never left them. But now she was here, in this field in the open, in the light. She didn’t know why and it had her scared.
Tirzah stated laughing, it was nervous, light, and fitful. It morphed slowly in to a darker laugh, wide eyed and dangerously out of control. Her eyes darted around, and she seemed to shrink. Her breathing became rapid. And she muttered things under her breath,”Real? Past? Which is which? It’s my mind, not hers, never hers. You are in control. Real. It’s real. Shh shhh. Its real.” She had self soothed for many months now, the shadows had their own comforts but her own voice soft and low was the only thing that sometimes kept her present. So she would often talk to herself.
The broken mare tried to move inconspicuously to the tree line, to the shadows, except she failed terribly. Shifty eyed and jumpy she flinched at every slightly out of place sound. So she ended up looking like a jumpy hitchy coward. There were just too many bodies, too much space…and if she lost herself she wouldn’t like to know what would happen. So she tried to flee, to hide. She stood at the tree line muttering, like she did to herself often; weaving her head, watching, like she always watched. Silent in the shadows, where her broken mind could do no harm.
tirzah
ooc: still developing her- she may change a bit. so hang with me xD
A shadow stretched around the friesian as he walked with a heavy, long stride into the field. Oh, how he hated to be here. If he didn't have to claim a mare in order to become an owner of land, he wouldn't have come. His jet black coat shined in the sun as he crossed the land. His breath was deep and rhythmic, like ocean waves crashing onto a tropical shore. His large body halted, and he began to take notice all of the equine around him.
Many were mares lined up, being courted by jittery, love-struck stallions. The sight of it made him sick. A look of disgust clung to his face as his burgundy eyes swept across the land. His chocolate rimed ears swiveled atop his head, picking up on strange tones in the voices around him. A tone he could not place, perhaps one he had never been subjected to. After a few moments of searching, a word finally arose in his head, he muttered softly to himself, "Kindness."
That word had never been shown to him. It was a fairy tale, a myth, a lie. Anger overtook him as he thought about how his 'family' tossed him aside. He was a forgotten piece of trash. His muzzle crinkled up and his tail twitched. He pawed the ground furiously, he wished for their demise. Breathe. Just breathe. He silently said to himself. He shook out his thick mane to clear his head and started again towards the safe haven of the treeline.
A twitchy, jumpy young mare caught his eye. A smirk curled around his lips, "Perfect." He muttered. She was a little out of shape for his particular taste, but she would do.
His muscles are perfectly built, being a light draft, he had a large, muscular frame. A thick, wavy mane and tail, his mane of medium length, and his tail just barely touching the ground. He was handsome, physically flawless and he knew it. As he reached the chestnut he put on the charade. He placed a handsome smile on his lips and bowed to her. "Good afternoon, milady, it's a pleasure to meet you on this fine summer day. My name is κακό." He rose up and waited for the strange mare to reply.
He would always find the ones in the shadows. He could feel them there, the way the shadows shifted around their bodies. This one wasn’t made of shadows, didn’t control the shadows, but she tried to hide in them. He understood that all too well, though his power to hide inside the shadows was rather infinite. He could turn into them, bled himself into the darkness. He could pull them around him, like he always did. Though he wore the shadows as a second skin, and without really looking, no one would ever know he wasn’t simply a black horse.
He was made of darkness now. Noah always lingered in her periphery, his dead friend that probably never existed but would always be real for Rhonan. His dreams were nightmares of the charred Beqannians that chased him, that tore his friends to pieces. His days were little different, though he found that working for the Valley made his mind more productive.
But for all that he’s lived through, he has never considered himself broken. He is simply Rhonan, and the facts of his life are not ones he can share with anyone else. Who would believe him, after all? In this particular life, he is a master of shadows with no social graces and a general inability to read facial cues.
But he can read the shadows, and so he seeks her out, if only because she finds comfort in the same thing he does.
There’s already another there, though having no idea it’s polite to acknowledge the other, he simply joins the group, looking at the mare who’s words he caught bits and pieces of. “It’s all real,” he says, because it’s true. Even the things that one would ever believe, even the lives he’s lived that no one else has lived through. They were real, at least to him. And that was enough.
12-15-2015, 03:52 PM (This post was last modified: 12-25-2015, 09:45 AM by Tirzah.)
in a mad world, only the mad are sane
Tirzah weaved back and forth, never really standing still. Even in the shadows she was anxious. She knew that if she lost herself in the darkness of her mind bad things would happen. Memories flooded her mind of times she came out of the blank spaces. Blood, there was always so much blood. The images haunted her. She would never escape them. No matter how deeply she hid in the shadows the red stained was there. The shadows were a haven, a haven from others- a haven to keep anything that could trigger her away. The shadows were the sanctuary of her broken mind. However, here in the field there are others. Others that come to the shadows others that threaten her peace. In the in-between lands here shadows are here, no one looks in the shadows while the travel on the well-worn paths between kingdoms. But not in the field, the sanctuary doors were open, and nothing, no one was safe.
She hadn’t been looking for companionship. Others are triggers, others end up making her slip, and others end up as pools of blood. Blood, so much blood. The reddish mare shrunk away as she smelled a new scent enter, she hoped he wouldn’t come. But of course he did, she knew of the meadow even though she had avoided it. The males always came, claimed, and sometimes raped. She hoped he wasn’t forceful. She hoped he would not trigger the blackness….she hoped.
It hadn’t been but another moment when the large stallion approached her- tall, proper, dark. Tirzah sniffed at the air, sensing something off. She knew not yet what was off- but there was something off. She shrunk back again from him, he was too proper, too correct. It didn’t fit- there was something wrong. But she couldn’t stop him from speaking- she couldn’t keep him from addressing her so his words fell upon her ears just the same. She twitched like the words physically harmed herm, calmed her weaving, though it did not stop completely and let her own voice ring out. For how reserved into herself her tone was light, elegant, and feminine, though her words did not fall so nicely. The words were jaunted, fragmented, and broken like her mind. Tirzah. Not a lady, too broken. Summer? Yes yes, summer, real. Too proper, Kakó, wrong.
Whether Kakó meant any threat she was nervous and something didn’t feel right, no matter the reality. When her emotions heightened she found the blackness came easier- that she lost her hold. And just like all those times she felt the slip, the stumble; darkness was threatening. Blood, so much blood! But she was saved, but a single word ”Real.” She wasn’t quite sure where it came from because she had shut her eyes tight and turned away as if that would protect herself from her own fractured mind. When the word sunk into her mind she slowly looked back. Real, this was real, just an introduction- no threat, yet. Tirzah opened her curled neck and looked for the source. It hadn’t sounded like the too proper Kakó, but a sentence or two is hard to determine every variation of a voice. Her eyes fell on another. Darkness, like shadows, like home- her sanctuary. While she was still weary of the attention of the closeness, she reached out with her chestnut nose, just a little, as if she would feel the cool touch of the darkness that are the shadows. He speaks a single word a question to the newcomer, ”Real?” It was a breathy question, soft and seeking. Seeking truth, seeking safety, seeking understanding. She had never seen a horse that embodied the darkness that was her sanctuary. For whatever reason she was glad he was here, he balanced the uncertainty of the tall Kakó, who seemed to hide behind propriety.
Tarizah was not sure what would happen, but at least the blackness was at bay...for now
He simply learned to live with it. It was only ever a matter of understanding he’d never be anything other than himself. Destructive without meaning to be. Selfish. Noah would always linger in the corner of his vision when he was alone, reminding him. Reminding him that he’d been two second too late to save his friend. Rhonan was always two seconds too late.
Too late to save Noah. Too late to save Gero. And he could have. He could have saved them all, if he hadn’t been so selfish. So careless.
But in the end, he simply had to accept it. Embrace the darkness – literally, in his case. The shadows listened to him now. He asked, and they answered. And in the end, it kept him sane. His life could have driven him crazy. No, his lives. He’s lived more than one, after all. Many that no one else has ever seen, and never would. To them, he’d simply be nutty. Living in imaginary worlds.
But it had been real. He’s certain of that. Didn’t matter what type of reality. It shaped him, changed him. And that was all it took for something to be real.
“Everything is real,” he repeats. There’s no other way to say it. Not really. Instead, the shadows around them come to life, wrapping themselves lightly, lovingly, around Tirzah. She could slip out of them easily, if she wanted, but Rhonan suspects that she’ll enjoy the caress. It’s hard not to feel safe within the embrace of the shadows. They are kinder than many give them credit for. Only dangerous or deadly when needed.
“My home in the Valley is full of shadows. If you need a place to stay, I could show it to you.” He’s never really been one to beat around the bush. Winning words and charisma aren’t his forte, after all. He just says it like it is, and if that’s not enough, than he probably doesn’t want anything to do with them anyway.
She was intrigued. The horse before her had spoken only a word. She was enraptured. Maybe that was too strong of a word but as Tirzah stood there was no other word that fit. He was kindred in a way. She had never met another that was in any way like her that seemed to understand. The likelihood that the elegant chestnut had made the whole thing up in her mind was as likely as not. She had made many a thing up over her life in an attempt to fill the empty spaces where everything was missing. Tirzah stood searched the stranger whom she was so sure of in mere moments time for a sign she was wrong. Instead the his black as night frame some more words, more reassurance he was more like her than not.
The mystery stallion sent out darkness, it was confusing at first before the broken minded mare realized it was simply shadow. He sent it around her and him, it cradled her in its cool touch and she was truly grateful. It was second nature the sigh that escaped her a sign of her instant comfort. The weaving slowed to more a slow shift of weight, and her breather was much steadier. Tirzah’s hooves carried her towards the mystery shadow giver. She was emboldened by shadow- less jumpy. Carefully she stopped a pace away from his shoulder, facing him at an angle, so she could reach out and touch his shoulder. Nothing about her movements were threatening she was more a scared child who just wanted show a token of gratitude. Reddish muzzle reached out cautiously to his shoulder. She felt the need to flinch at the moment she would contact him but tried to stifle it. She then quickly retreated her nose, not comfortable with lingering contact. He voice fell soft, ”Name? Does the shadow giver have a name? Shadow is lovely… lovely gift”
She looks away with the compliment, her awkwardness is something the mare dislikes about her self, but none the less she has had so little contact with others it would e no surprise. She wanted to desperately to be able to have more, but she doubted anyone would give her the time she needed to learn control. Again his voice fell. Home? Valley? He would guide her? She looked away. No. She couldn’t, she would hurt others. She would put this home at risk. Tirzah lowered her head, ”It sounds perfect, I could hurt others. The blackness….there is always so much blood. But I would like to see it….” Tirzah’s words fall off and she just looks up at him, which her reddish head is still lowered. She didn’t need him to make up her mind, but she needed him to be aware of the risk. If she fell into blackness she knew not what she would do, as she had no knowledge of those times when she awoke. The only thing she did know was the blood.
tirzah
ooc: meh.... but it had sat stagnant long enough. you can reply in valley if it is fitting for you.
