"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
She was still not used to this weak feeling in her legs. Her normally pristine white/grey pelt was suddenly carrying the dinginess of the mud and the wreckage of the land that had gone through the ultimate forging of old magic and new—though she could sense the magic around her, she could no longer access it… tap into its sheer power. The clouds were now rolling in, and the world around Epithet was as grey as she was. The color had almost gone out from the expanse, and as she looked to the horizon, she once again saw the fog against the edge of the world… It was thick, almost impenetrable, as if it beckoned exploring to the end of one’s own life. Having just lost what was precious to her—her own identity—she shifted her shoulder and turned away from it, stopping short to look up above the hills to spy a tall snow-covered mountain where before there had been none. She nary gave a squeal before she backed up into a tree, and with a rather ungraceful umph fell on her face, splattered with mud and moss.
She was a mess, and she was not used to presenting herself to the world thus. The daughter of Charlemagne had until this moment held it together with the only serenity she knew, but the madness that lay in her blood—almost as rampant as the magic—was now coming to the fore, and threatened to take hold of her. She took a breath, and attempted to get up, to prove that she was better than her mother ever thought she’d be—which was little more than a thought and a one night stand.
She righted herself, took a step, and stumbled. There was no grace or dignity when one loses every last ounce of strength that they have known their entire lives. Instead, she sighed, and headed in the direction of the river… if it was still there.
Hygiene is the last thing on the male’s mind. Though it never has been really - he had always just changed his form if his usual ragged self did not impress. Now that he is stuck this way, he should possibly give more consideration to his looks. His inky pelt is covered in spots of sap from the pines of his beloved home, his feathered hooves still carry its needles. Black tresses fall in tangles around his dark eyes. Perhaps he was a mess, but ultimately he was preoccupied with other thoughts.
The loss of his Valley had wounded him deeper than he could have ever imagined. Surely, he had never thought that she could just vanish as she had. She had been so powerful, holding the beast’s heart in her tight chains. Now he was free (theoretically) but he couldn’t handle the loneliness of it.
Perhaps that is what pushes him to be social today. Or maybe it is just the natural inclination after a tragedy to find others that have survived. To ensure that you are, indeed, among the living. His wish is to simply awaken from this nightmare, but as time passes the reality of his situation solidifies in his mind. As he wanders aimlessly through the meadow he finds a mare standing by herself. He does not recognize her, but she seems almost as lost as he feels.
So he approaches. Whatever ties they may have had to distinguish them once are so blurred now that he cannot head them. His lust for the fairer sex has left him in the wake of these changes, so she has little to fear from this homeless vagrant. He simply nods in greeting, and with words that sound choked says “Is your home gone too?”
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
09-02-2016, 08:59 PM (This post was last modified: 09-02-2016, 09:01 PM by Sahm+Newton.)
forever in their lovers embrace
They were together and that alone gave them some solace. Sahm knew instantly that his magic had been drained from him. It was a familiar feeling as he was born average, but it was a loss either way. Sahm did not tell Newton of his magic disappearance. The bay stallion did not need anymore upsetting news. Newton had first lost his childhood friends, and now he lost his family and home. It utterly wrecked him to be walking aimlessly. If it weren’t for Sahm and the child within him Newton surely would depose of himself. As it was the duo steered their way toward the meadow. Sahm had a ravenous thirst, and Newton merely followed. Along the way Sahm would stop and gently rub his muzzle along Newton’s neck. He would kiss his lover and fondle his mane. Newton would close his eyes and fall into the embrace. Just a moment of pure bliss amongst the surrounding disaster.
Upon reaching the river Sahm nudged Newton sweetly and then lowered his head to lap up a few sips. Newton stood with little purpose. He shifted his weight to the side and kicked out a single hoof. Sahm remained attentive and protective. Newton was now very pregnant, and Sahm didn’t have a fail safe with his magic. The sabino stallion would have to remain alert in order to protect his family.
Once Sahm felt satisfied he lifted his head and glanced to his right. A striking white mare approached the water and soon after her complete opposite joined her. Sahm nodded to them both. Newton overheard the males comment and swiftly stumbled over to the two. Sahm, surprised, trailed behind him. ”Our home is gone.” Newton said quietly. ”It is all gone..” He whispered.
09-03-2016, 02:43 PM (This post was last modified: 09-03-2016, 02:47 PM by Epithet.)
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
Epithet
Epithet felt the mysterious return of life to her body. No longer entirely alone, she was able to distinguish the least little bit of mysticism emanating from the direction of the mountain that she had spotted earlier. She thought, perhaps that because the mountain had not been there previously—and now was—that this probably meant that the mountain had something to do with this whole thing. She was still exhausted, and still filthy, but she stopped for a while and stared at it, intently, almost longingly, almost as if… almost as if it were calling out to her. So entwined was she in her reverie, that she was caught unaware—and rather embarrassingly, considering her state of physical affairs—by a male whom she did not recognize, but that, in a former life, would not have been someone that she would have considered part of her company. Is your home gone too? Well, yes. It was. The Deserts had long been flooded, and she had only managed to pull herself together to keep to the common lands, looking for a new place to be. But did Epithet really belong anywhere? What was she, anyhow? Was she still Epithet, drained as she was and uncertain of everything she knew? What was the point of being good, when all the world could do was take everything from you that you had ever known? So she faced him, adversity flying in the face of diversity, and she grounded herself, settling her weight in the mud before addressing him. “Yes… Yes I supposed it is.” She paused, looking past him to see a pair of males that looked entwined together at the soul. Her eyes widened slightly to see that one of them looked vaguely like her—pregnant, for they had nothing else in common that she knew of—and that the other watched him with the utmost love and protectiveness. Epithet smiled, moved by the scene; but she was aware that one of them had to have been blessed with old blood; like her, for impossible in this world is the man who is pregnant naturally without the help of a little magic. He whispers his uncertainty, shock, and sadness at having lost his home as well, and then Epithet begins to realize, that this calamity was not just the creation of a few. This was the entire land. How could her homeland have betrayed them all like this? She kept her face serene, but her heart began to blacken, the madness of her mother barely being kept at bay. She huffed, and looked back at the little band of men that had gathered around her, and spoke again, wondering if the one who trailed behind her pregnant friend was the one with whom she would find a quiet connection with; he seemed different, somehow. “Does any of you know what exactly has happened here? I have only just come back, to realize…. That my abilities are not what they used to be.” A beat, where she reached back to itch her still-dirty pelt... feeling slightly self-conscious of how dirty she was. “I am Epithet.”
Before the mare can speak (preoccupied as she is with the mountain), two more males approach. Once upon a time the beast would have looked upon them as rivals for a female’s attention, but now they are just two more lost souls in his company. The words that come from the (obviously pregnant) one’s mouth echo the emptiness that the black stallion feels growing within himself. He can only nod in understanding, words escaping him.
Then the mare speaks. She confirms her home is gone as well. As he had imagined - everything was wiped clean. There was little comfort to be had, but at least Beqanna did not play favorites. They would all start with a clean slate. But did he really? He had to revive his lover. His Valley must be reborn. Did they all share that same sentiment?
“Gunsynd” is his reply. He directs it at the three of them for convenience sake. He does not bother to ask where they were all from - it either didn’t matter anymore, or it would rouse more sadness. Besides, he does not want to know. They were just horses now, right? Isn’t this what the terrible fairy had wanted? To bring them all to their knees to crawl around in the dust with one another playing nice? Well she had succeeded, he couldn’t deny that.
His bloodshot eyes scan the three of them, all looking rather miserable and confused. His eyes sting from his lack of sleep and his vigil he had held on the side of the dreaded mountain. Finally he replies, his words feeling like sandpaper in his throat. “It appears that all the magic is gone. And the mountain has formed as a result. Magic still exists there, but you cannot stay for long.” He had tried. He had stayed longer than was wise. But ultimately the detestable fairy had forced him to descend. “All of the lands are gone.” He continues, his voice catching a little now. “But from on the mountain I could see that there were areas shrouded by magic. There are lands, but we can’t reach them yet. I’m not sure what they are planning, but we must do what we always do.” He pauses, shaking some of the tangled locks from his face. “Rebuild.”
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
09-03-2016, 08:52 PM (This post was last modified: 09-03-2016, 08:53 PM by Sahm+Newton.)
forever in their lovers embrace
Sahm had not expected for Newton to speak. Since he had found his lover amongst the chaotic mountain Newton had chosen to answer with silence and mere head nods. Newton’s broken and mournful comment not only came as a surprise, but it also came as a stab to Sahm’s heart. It was one thing to see the torment on Newton’s face, but for it to be vocalized in a slightly public way practically tore Sahm in half. He quickly raced to Newton and laid his muzzle onto Newton’s cheek, kissed it lightly, and held it there for another second. Newton closed his eyes and reran his words through his head. Sahm snapped him out of it with his touch, and Newton opened his eyes and set them upon the crystalline mare.
Sahm found the mare’s question to be particularly interesting. She had no idea what happened within the land of Beqanna, she also mentioned that her abilities were gone. Sahm had made the same observation once he left the mountainside. It wasn’t too much of a concern for him except for the fact that Newton was in greater danger then before. ”Pleasure to meet you Epithet and Gunsynd. I am Sahm, and this is my mate, Newton.” Sahm obliged.
The dark stallion knew more information then Sahm could have ever imagined. He explained that it wasn’t just Sahm, Newton, and Epithet’s gifts that were taken but all of them. All lands had been destroyed- everything was different. Newton winced at the news, and slightly stumbled to his side. Sahm caught Newton with a quick nudge of his nose. ”All magic gone..” Sahm mused to himself. He looked back toward Epithet and Gunsynd. ”I figured as much. Not only do we have to rebuild, but we have to heal….”
"What would make the faeries do something so cruel?” Newton interrupted.
What would make the fairies do something so cruel? That was an easy thing to answer. Epithet shook her head, and leaned back to pick at some of the mud that was gathering on her shoulder blades while the others supposed for a bit as to what it could be. Gunsynd seemed to be aware of what was happening here, and so she listened to him. He mentioned magic, and her ears pricked, and she moved to face in his direction specifically—the pregnant male and his magic lover forgotten for the meantime. “The deep magic still exists here? Upon the top of that mountain?” Her eyes widened as she turned from all of them for the moment to view the mountain, the top of which was obscured from her vision by a swirling gas of purple and blue smoke. “I can hear it calling to me…” she says quietly. “It’s almost as if, it wants me to visit.”
She was not sure in that moment if she sounded crazy to just herself or all of them, but she was aware that among them, there was power yet still to be reckoned with. Gunny’s power was in the knowledge and wisdom that he possessed. He seemed very capable. Sahm—his power was obvious. Newton’s abilities were a little more hazed to her prevue, but under the protection of a man who loved him—and also possessed magic that she knew well and loved—he was not one to be forgotten either. She intended to get to know them better. Sahm was quiet, but his soul ran deep in the veins of this land, and she wanted to know what he knew. But for now, she feels that she has to state the obvious.
“I was born of this deep magic. In the Dale. Many years ago. I have only just returned here…and it seems that I am too late to do anything about this… this travesty.” She looked to Gunsynd. “Where do we begin?”
The beast is not accustomed to such displays of affection that the two males before him perform. Carnal pleasures were his forte. That is where his “affection” for another being began and ended. Now the Valley, she was a different thing altogether. But one does not show affection for the land as they do to another horse, and so these displays of love are quite foreign to him. He watches them with interest.
The one named Sahm notes that they needed to heal as well. This is something that had not crossed the monster’s mind. Sure, he had noticed that the Valley’s currently deposed ruler was now silent and he knew that some had lost sight, or other such basic abilities. He also was keenly aware of his own lack of power and the fact that magicians were now simple creatures once more. But rebuilding his mistress was his priority. He could work towards rebuilding himself once that had been accomplished.
He was focused.
He watches as the sole female among them has her revelation and turns to the mountain. His own gaze falls on the geological oddity with disdain. His ears perk to hear her words that she mutters, almost to herself. He understands the feeling. It was calling to all of them, but when one was on its slopes it pushed everyone away. It was indiscriminate.
So when the pregnant stallion asks about the cruelty of the fairy, all Gunsynd can do is laugh. A deep, sour sound that stank of enmity. He would play the fairy’s games because he had no choice. But if the imp believed for a second that it would bring devotion she was sorely mistaken. Gunsynd was carefully tending to the growing hatred inside himself. It would bear fruits one day…
He addresses the males first after hearing the female’s final question. “It would seem to me the fairy is a petty god, bent on receiving gratitude for the powers that she has stolen from us by pretending they were not rightfully ours in the first place.” He cannot help the venom in his voice. Unlike Sahm, Gunsynd was not trying to protect anyone from what he saw as harsh realities. Then his eyes turn to Epithet. “I can offer you no guidance. I only have my own plan, and that is to rebuild my home. Once that is accomplished, I plan to focus my efforts on regaining my power and the power of those who have helped in my primary cause. For what is the use of power without reason?”
He watches them to see their responses before adding “If you are so inclined, you can work with me, and I will do everything I can to ensure we regain what is rightfully ours. Old distinctions are gone, we must work together to face the mountain.”
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
The cruel laugh forced Newton to abruptly fling his head backward as if the laugh itself was a spinning rock at his head. He didn’t find the destruction of Beqanna’s former life to be in anyway amusing. The chaos was not a game. Newton did not exist for the faeries enjoyment. He was a horse who had a family, feelings, and a love for the Tundra. Newton found that the way the stallion was dealing with the change to be somewhat of an oddity. Newton had not grown angry at the faeries like Sahm had. Newton merely remained sad and broken. The thought of revenge or hatred did not even cross his mind. Sahm on the other hand nodded along to Gunsynd’s speech. He too was not happy with the faeries and their god-like attitude. It was not the faeries that gave him magic it had been Sahm’s father. It was not the faeries magic to take away.
Epithet was strong, beautiful, and held a silent connection to Sahm. He didn’t know what type of connection Epithet had over him until she spoke of the simple existence of magic. Sahm could not help but smile. He hadn’t met another magician besides his father. He should have known that a horse of such elegance had once had the beauty of magic within her. Before Sahm could exclaim his excitement to be speaking with her Gunsynd went onto explain his next move. Sahm and Newton had already joined up with Offspring. The former Tundra king had already proven his worth in their eyes.
”We are currently working with Offspring to rebuild our home.” Sahm simply said before focusing his attention on Epithet. ”I know what you mean about the magic…my father gave me his magic to save my life. I miss it being apart of me, it was all I had left of him. I cannot believe it, I knew there was something that drew me to you.” He said warmly. ”Once we get it back, our magic, would you teach me?” Sahm needed a mentor. His whole family was gone except for Newton. ”And you are welcome to join us as well…we are close to discovering a new land.”
Epithet listened to both of them, her eyes settling on each one as she heard their troth. She knew to her core that she was the one who would always have to follow her heart, rather than the madness that her blood gave her utterance with—and despite being just slightly angry—livid—over the loss of her abilities, she also knew that in the end, she could not give up on herself for the sake of what ifs. Gunsynd was lovely, and she hoped to continue a friendship with him more in the future, but for the sake of her daughter, and the safety of her soul, she bowed to him and gave him her attention one more time. “As wonderful as that sounds, Gunsynd, I fear I must decline the offer at this time. I need to think of Leola, and how best to teach her what she knows in this world without the fear that she has been born to. As much as the mountain calls to me… I fear that my time to climb it has not yet come.”
And with that, and a sense of sorrow at not taking up her new friend upon his offer, she turns to Sahm and Newton, already noticing how well Leola and Elora were getting along, bounding without a care in the world as to what was going on around them. They had no idea what sort of magic they had been born into—and what was no longer theirs by right. They too, had been punished… for even the innocent did not escape the rages of the mountain. She watched with pride while her little black filly swished her tail this way and that, growing stronger with each passing day, before she took a step closer to the lovers, her eyes warm with the familiarity of family—and the blood of a kindred spirit. “As long as it does not require a trek to the mountain quite yet, I would feel myself privileged to follow you. Our daughters seem to get along famously, and I do not wish to part them. Nor, from a friend. I had no mentor for my magic, but I have walked this earth more than 50 years… and I would be glad to show you what I know. If your Offspring, as you called him, will have me, I will gladly be of service to him.”
