"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
05-06-2016, 04:53 PM (This post was last modified: 05-06-2016, 04:54 PM by Lirren.)
And inside you're burning with some secret yearning
The moon stretches its face high into the sky as the last streaks of pink and purple fade into navy, heralding the night to come. Her night. For that is what it is to the teal-tipped mare. The night has been a more faithful and constant lover than any other she has had. And the night brings the stars, their simple, eternal light singing quietly to her in a way nothing else ever would.
If she could live amongst them, she would do so in a heartbeat.
But alas, she is only a mortal creature, bound to this world by iron tethers. She would always rue the day that had decreed it so. The day that had given her such an ethereal and fleeting taste of those distant stars, and in so doing had denied her access to them.
She breathes in the cool night air, teal lids closing over silver-bright eyes as she basks in the feeble light of dusk. Today she wears curling horns upon her head and brilliant star-ridden wings upon her shoulders. It is how she brings herself close to those distant pinpricks of light, how she feels their majesty. She does her best to ignore the echoes of pain rippling through her belly, a certain foretelling of the birth to come.
She should know better by now. Indeed, she is entirely certain she could have avoided this. But the temptation was too great, and he had been such an easy and willing mark. How could a girl resist?
But this part. This part, she could do without. Would do without, should she have her way. She would simply have to be satisfied with admiration.
When the pain becomes too difficult to ignore, she sets out across the meadow. The young grass brushes against her hocks, tickling her sensitive skin as she seeks out a suitable place to bring this child into the world. A soft huff of breath escapes her lips as an especially strong contraction squeezes her sides, causing irritation to swiftly replace indifference.
She soon locates a small, somewhat obscure corner of the meadow and claims as her own. At least for the time being. In a few, short moments, a shield has been settled around her and she is struggling to bring life into the world.
Soon the girl is born, and Lirren is inspecting her closely as she cleans the birth from her skin. She is a bay color to match hers, but white roans her body to a dustier shade. And there, upon her forehead, is small nub. When she discovers this, she lifts her head in surprise. Well, that is certainly unexpected.
She has, it seems, a horn.
With a faint smile adorning her lips, Lirren lowers her head to whisper softly into the girl’s whispy mane. ”Darling Oricle. You are destined to be a surprise, I think.”
Her heart trips, for a moment she is suspended in nothingness, another she is whirling through space and time. The distant hooting of an owl is sharp, but still that, distant. As if from another world, not one of her warm dark shell. The thudding no longer lulling her to sleep dreamless, and void of thought. Innocent of time, and the toll of life. No longer did the security of her world blanket her from this. Yet for now it is not so scary. Just loud, loud and cold, until the gentle administrations deliver her new found sight. What is the first thing she sees? Well it’s the stars of course, silent and soft, their light streaming around mother and child uniting them in the quiet of the night.
She nudges at the muzzle against her fur taking in all the sensations she can possibly consume. Wide eyed and fuzzy ears pricked forward, she takes comfort in the nearness of the other. Legs kick from under her wobbly and weak. Her neck lowers close to the ground before she crumples into a heap. A stub of a tail is all she owns, yet that is all she needs to express her frustration at the confounded contraptions. Another effort and she is almost there, once again falling before her quivering knees are stable. Frustration eats at her flipping her ears back until this time quaking knees hold her up.
Looking to the larger horse, she grins proudly, raising her neck to gaze at the stars. What to call them, something attracts her to them mesmerized by the twinkling lights, they seem to grow closer until a small ball of soft light flickers between mother and child. Nostrils reach to investigate but snort when there is nothing to be found. It dissipates and she is left standing there in awe of this new world. The old one all but forgotten in the few moments of sensation. She speaks and Oricle whirls her head around reaching to careen her neck against the woman. The scent of something sweet attracts her, pinching belly letting her know that it was eager to find the source. It only takes a moment for the warm nutrition to trickle down her throat. When satisfied droopy lashes gaze up at the mare. The mare that looked so similar to her, the mare that she would come to know as mother. The mare that had lovingly cooed the child to rest. Standing next to her she nudges her shoulder finding it a comfortable place to rest against.
Oricle
so will you hold cause time is cold but in your soul im standing by
And inside you're burning with some secret yearning
The stars twinkle in benign beauty high above in the velvet night sky. They shine down, wrapping her and her newest child in their cool embrace. Little does she realize that those cruel, callous things have gifted her youngest with their ethereal light.
She had never before considered that she might need to share her gift. That the stars are less discriminating than she had first imagined. She has never before met another who could wield their power in the way that she can. They have always been hers and hers alone. They shine their eternal light favorably upon her, gifting her with such unimaginable and untold power. To see that power manifest itself in another, in her own daughter no less, is a surprise to say the least.
The smallest kernel of jealousy settles in her heart, cold and unforgiving. Tendrils of that awful, tenacious beast snake through her skin, infecting her with a terrible feeling no mother should ever feel for their child.
But she feels it. She cannot seem to help it.
She does not prevent the girl from nursing, but when she settles against her in milk-fueled bliss, Lirren withdraws ever so slightly. Swinging her teal-tipped head around to the roan filly, she nibbles with deceptive softness along her whispy dark mane. Then, with deliberate intent, she aims a sharp nip at her bony shoulders.
”My sweet Oricle,” she whispers softly, almost soothingly, into the skin she had treated so harshly. ”Do not ever do that again. The stars are not yours.” Her tone is cooingly sweet, but the icy undertone is impossible to mistake.
Lirren
starlit daughter of joythief and carnage
Well this went a different direction than I thought it would. Apparently she's the jealous type D:
She stumbles into the bite, completely unaware of anything that could be wrong. With it, or the strange thing that had happened. She did not understand it, did not even understand what it was that she did. She yelps at the new sensation. Warmth swelling into the shoulder tender now to even the chilly wind. Slowly the world was begining to make sense, words that she used were comprehensible. The milk drunken feeling dissipating just as the pain settles. The burning reminder never to wish for a star again remains seared in her mind. She nods to her mother, Yes mother. She pauses for a moment daring to take one last cautious peek to them. What are they mother? How she did long for them, oh how they pulled at her. Yet she knew, if this mare told her no, then no it would be.
She must know better, she after all was the one to birth her. Were they bad? This concept was beyond her comprehension as of yet. The idea of anything bad was a black void in her mind. Empressionable as she is, she waits to hear what her mother has to say. Were they the fairies? Her mind began oozing with questions. What could look so beautiful, and yet be so untouchable. The way her mothers voice lulls in the quiet of the evening relaxes her. The young filly does not dare to attempt another touch. Waiting instead in the warmth of her dams radiating heat. Oricle is content with the simple fact that there was company. As strange as it felt the longing for touch did not exist. She did not feel any malise, she knew no greif, she saw no shame. Only peace. For her there was a sense of peace.
With the stars turned against her and lack of physical touch, there was nothing to bring excitement. With the quiet of the night, and the lack of danger in this moment, there was nothing to be considered other than to be dismissed. The speckled girl stands quietly waiting for instruction. Waiting for dirrection, waiting to see what it was that she should do. Looking up to the mare she smiles serenely. There felt nothing better then what it was that she was feeling now. She had taken to the world with an ease that most lacked. Most squalling and stumbling every time they tried to do anything or nothing at all.
Something felt... normal to her. LIke this was to be the pattern of her life. This was what she was to expect to be her routine. To never look to the stars again, and to look to this mare for wisdom and guidence. .
Oricle
so will you hold cause time is cold but in your soul im standing by
I actually like it, gives me something to build her character off of.
