"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
"Her head is a living forest full of song birds..."
It was the voices that kept her up at night.
Through the turmoil, rage, and deception, it had always been the voices. They were crawling up her flesh and out her ears, twisting around her neck and strangling her to death. The voices were what caught up to her. Among the chaotic spin of life around her, it had always been the voices, yet it was only now that someone had taken action. It had started out with a simple gesture, a nip here and there upon the flank of the young mare. Maybe a shove or two at the creek when she went to drink, yet with every push and shove came the bitterness. A herd that was meant to love her, care for her, and even fight for her was the one pushing her over the edge of the cliff just waiting to see her fall. The gestures escalated into what seemed like a treacherous battle, leaving her bloodied and broken upon a field with no one. Yet with the loneliness, she always found her way back to the herd that no longer gave a crap about the young mare. Sage was the past.
And she soon found that out.
After what seemed like ages, the mare was finally pushed away from what she had called daily life. The stallion had enough of the mare and her supposed 'crazy' antics. She spoke to herself; therefore, according to her herd, she wasn't fit for them. They were rulers of the desert. They didn't need her. They didn't want her. So after being beaten, bitten, and scarred, Saige finally understood the message. Schizophrenia wasn't welcomed there. Nothing but the best for her past herd, so she ran. After days of being driven into the ground like the sand under their hooves, she ran. Her body weak, her stomach empty, she ran. Away from her family. Away from her herd. And away from her home. Only that she anticipated the worst.
You're not worthy to stay with them, Saige. The voices were there, though; keeping the young mare company along the way as she dragged herself over what seemed like ruins. Her flank, along with bits and pieces of her body, was covered with dried blood, the dark red standing out upon her cremello coat. Her head shook, a snort coming from her nose as she tried to direct her attention away from anything. She wasn't ready for this. For any of this. She wasn't sure what to do. Whether it was the sun radiating upon her body, or the grumbling of her stomach, she wasn't ready for any of what was to come and she knew that. You'll never be ready. She bit at the air, shaking her head more as she stomped in anger, the voices taunting her once again. At the moment, she was ready to reply out loud. She was ready to lash out at nothing, to seek out the voices and bite the hides of the ones who dared to taunt her, yet that is what got her into this mess in the first place. Saige knew that it was quite possible nobody would take her into their herd. She was, dared she say it, defected. She knew that others didn't take kindly to those who were different, especially in an open setting where the weak were useless. She wanted nothing but to go back to her own herd, but there was nothing left for her there. Nothing but bitter faces and teeth ready to lash out upon her thin body.
So she went on, her eyes glancing over the green grass and the willowy trees, as her nimble legs seemed almost alien-like out in the different scene. Her breed wasn't used to this, yet she would have to be now. And she knew this clearly as she continued on her way. Finally she dipped her head, gathering a small bit of grass within her mouth before chewing lightly, her hooves softly dragging over the greenery as she munched.
[color= maroon]No one will take you, Saige. You're delusional, dearie.[/color]
Cackles rose within her head. The voices mocking her loudly, taking over her sense of hearing. Her hooves kicked at the moment, her head shaking wildly before she glanced up at the open. She silently wished for something more. Something to better herself, yet her wishes were never answered.
And they never will be.
ooc: I hope this is good enough for the first post. I wasn't quite sure what to put. c:
He knew what it was to feel alone. The mighty titan had lost what he had held so dear, so close to his heart, and was left to wander aimlessly. If he had a voice things might have been easier but it wasn't to be.He had given up his voice for love, and he was convinced that only love would bring it back.
Rocinante had wandered Beqanna in search of just that love. His days were spent in silent vigilance, righting wrongs and defending the weak. While his nights were spent alone with only the memory of his princess to keep him from falling. He held his head high and maintained his watch because he knew one day he would find a love of his own and his curse would be broken. So it was when he found himself in the field.
The spring sun warmed his blue roan pelt, making it gleam like a gem. His mane and tail he kept short giving him a militaristic appearance. His gait was precise and his demeanor calm.he was a knight, he knew, and proud to be one. He kept evil at bay and protected the weak, quite content to do so in silence and without thanks. He had figured out a primitive mode of communication by mouthing words against the flesh of those that let him get close enough, but it was inefficient and seldom used since very few were willing to get that personal.
He takes heavy steps into the lush, verdant fields on the look out for his princess. The beautiful Camelia that he had pledged his life and service to. The titan had been devastated when she had left. Everything he stood for had collapsed when he awoke one morn to find her gone. Even still he searched for her in the hopes that one day she would return to him.
Watchful eyes scanned the clusters of mares hoping to see her golden pelt but alas today she wasn't here either. Instead he spotted a graceful cream doe, running like the devil himself was at her heels. Tossing his head he can here towards her, slowing down at a respectable distance and approaching closer at a walk. Head held high and hooves proudly raised , he pranced towards her. Here was a damsel in distress if he ever saw one. He stops a short distance away and bows low before her. Here is a beautiful princess in need of protection. He would never give up on his little girl, but this creature needed someone far more than Camelia ever did. His deep brown eyes take in the mares scarred and bloody hide and he feels an anger rise in the back of his throat. Who could do such a thing to someone so innocent?
Raising back to his feet he tries to call out to her feeling the air whistle through his maw without the accompanying noises. He only hopes that this mare will accept him enough to allow him to draw close, though he doesn't have the honeybees words to woo her.
"Her head is a living forest full of song birds..."
You can't run, not from us.
The pain followed in waves as she heard the voices conclude what she had already thought. They were instant, continuous, and butchering her from the inside out. It was them that got her into this mess in the first place, the same thing that had erupted the ground she walked on into thousands of tiny shards. She hadn't been ready for that. Nobody could have been ready for that. Yet she didn't have to be ready to allow it to happen. She couldn't escape them, yet others could. Saige was almost certain that if she could, she would leave her presence as well. She was too much, and the elders had concluded that it would only get worse with time. The hallucinations were beginning to fall to the front more than reality was, the voices were only getting more demanding with time, and the young mare's emotions were being amplified severely. Her belief was as strong as the disease, believing that soon she will be nothing but a walking nightmare.
What do you think, Saige? Is he real?
It took her a moment to understand what the voices were talking about until she glanced around. Her pale eyes sought out the figure of a stallion, bowing not far away from her and instantly her hesitation grew. Was he real? Her own thoughts were conflicted with reality and the hallucinations, making her stand still within the field only to stare at him. He seemed real. In her mind, though, everything seemed real. Her eyes shimmered as she stared at him in what seemed like utter fascination. Even though she was already three years old, she had gained a sense of innocence about the world. Everything through her eyes seemed to appear in the most mystical of ways, a gracefulness about life. Yet now, she wasn't quite sure about the world. The world she had somehow come to love was now filled with hatefulness and bitterness, a side she had never seen. But as she stared at the stallion who approached her with no hesitation in his stride, her outlook began to change. Her eyes stared at him as he raised himself into the air, his blue roan coat almost shimmering in the sun, yet when she expected a loud and boisterous bellow, she heard nothing. His maw opened and closed, yet nothing passed his lips. Nothing she could hear, anyway. Is this a trick by my mind again? The question sat heavily on her ears as she stared at him. Confusion was dancing within the young mare's eyes, yet she wasn't quite sure if she should say anything.
It's always a trick, dearie; a riddle you'll never solve.
A snort came once again from her nostrils as she shook her head, a whinny escaping her lips as she kicked her back legs in agitation. This isn't what she needed now. The madness, discomfort, and agitation. She wanted nothing of it anymore. But instead of listening to the voices overshadowing her, she took hesitant steps toward the silent stallion, not quite sure if he was just a figment of her imagination once again. She intended to touch him with her nose, yet she stayed back for only a second longer. Her hooves shuffled, her head shook, yet with those moments, she stretched her neck forward, intending to brush her nose across the shoulder of the stallion.
"Are you real?" Her words were a mere whisper, brushing through the wind. While they were intended for the stallion, whether or not he might have been real, she wasn't quite sure if even he would have heard her.
My heart was sad and lonely, In knowing that you only
Could bring my love to me
He sees the fear in her eyes, and oh how desperately he wants to make it disappear. She shuffles towards him, a wild, irresistible flightiness in her step, and he wishes he had the words to comfort her. His eyes hold a gentle sadness in their depths, a longing for the things he once had, and a need to build a future. He knows, from the moment she places a gentle touch upon his shoulder, that he is lost. This beautiful creature had him entranced, and this time he wouldn't let his princess slip through his grasp. Rocinante is surprised when she asks if he is real. Was he not a strong and solid stallion? He hardly felt like a phantom to be sure.
Slowly he lowers his muzzle to her neck, maintaining eye contact as long as possible so as not to startle her. It did very little good to spook her when he had made it this far. If she allows it, he places his lips gently to her skin and attempts to communicate.
Yes, am real. Name Rocinante. And you.
His touch is gentle but his words halting. He has little practice with communicating this way but it felt right, quite necessary even. He needed her to see that he would take care of her, if she would have him, and this was the only way he knew how to show her.
Once finished he takes a carefully slow step away from the doe, searching for any sign of understanding.
"Her head is a living forest full of song birds..."
She felt them.
His lips upon her coat, moving slowly enough for her to understand. She felt them, and she knew in that moment that he was anything but a hallucination. The young mare wasn't quite sure how to take it. To flee, or stay? Her thoughts swirled through her mind along with the voices, creating a spiraling tornado of words. Yet one thought stood out more than the others. It fled to the forefront, blocking her vision in a blockade of letters. Her vision was clouded with what seemed like possibilities, yet the letters hit her hard as she felt the surprisingly gentle touch of the stallion flee from her skin. Her coat was now cold from where his touch had left her, yet with the thoughts swirling into chaos, the thought of his name upon her skin warmed her.
Rocinante.
Her coat was left with the after effect of his name, her eyes darting toward him in some sort of fascination. He was reality when all else seemed like an illusion. He was what I was waiting for. The thoughts fled through her mind as soon as they appeared, fear coursing through her in what was to come. She had never been with strangers, as she had grown up in a herd that was secluded from the rest of civilization. She didn't know what quite to expect from him, yet as she stared at him and his tall figure, she couldn't help but feel.....safe.
"Saige," Her name tumbled from her lips like a lifeless breath, sounding almost like a gasp among the field. Her eyes still darted around her, her feet still shuffled upon the ground, and yet she stayed. Your own family ran you off; what makes you think he wants you? The slam of the voices knocked her back a few steps, making her shake her head in another spasm. She was hurt. Not by the cuts or the bruises or the scars. But by the hate her herd now had for her, the hate for the disease crawling through her mind. Her eyes watered before she glanced back up at the stallion, shaking the tears from her eyes. "My name is Saige." To her, the silence from the stallion wasn't even a problem. She felt it somewhat soothing from the loudness inside of her head.
ooc: I'm sorry it's so much shorter. I wasn't quite sure what else to put. c:
- - - The Voices. - Teal. - Speech.
For some reason or another, he always knew where to find the broken souls. More specifically, the mentally disarranged schizo’s of the equine world. Reuen, Aoki, now this poor soul. For some reason they drew him like a moth to the flame. As if they were sending out a bright beacon with the soft call of “Gryffen….Gryffen…” Every time he heard it, he responded to it quite happily. He loved them with their lack of self-esteem, the need for someone to depend on, the need to be saved. Gryffen wasn’t a savior, quite the opposite. Usually referred to as the Chamber ghost, his wraithlike figure with it’s glowing red eyes spoke more as a demon then an angel. A ghost he was with his predatory stance and hunted eyes. Ready for destruction and to take whatever he fancied. Ready to cause chaos simply if it would benefit him for pleasure or profit.
Surely he is haunting the Field, a spot he doesn’t normally travel too, on behalf of the Chamber. Usually he would be. Today something clicked in his mind when he woke up, a little ding of an idea. He wanted to try something new. In the long run it would benefit the Chamber so he assumes Straia won’t be against the idea as well as pleasing him. Starting a herd. It’s one of the few things he hasn’t had a go at. It seemed like today would be the day.
She is the lure and without realizing it she has reeled him in. Another had been there before him, still lingers by her side. Whatever peace she has found with him was about to be lost. Ears pinned and hidden beneath his forelock, he approaches with a sharp piercing whistle. The mare’s name almost becomes lost in the wind but not before he had plucked it, carefully storing the information away for later. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t introduce himself. Instead he forces himself between the two, teeth closing on the mare’s shoulder as he nips her and makes his way to push her away. His gaze is challenging, his body forceful. Stealing her from the company of the other. Claiming her for his own.
"Her head is a living forest full of song birds..."
She had been lost within her own thoughts when she had heard the piercing whistle, the sound bouncing off of her surroundings and shooting into her ear canal like a bullet. Her legs trembled, her head shook, and her eyes closed at the noise. It was louder than anything, sharper than anything, and yet it still rung within her chaotic mind. Her ears flickered down to ease the sound, yet she could still hear whatever equine that had caused the dreadful noise. The hooves upon the grass, the breathing of a close encounter, yet with every step, Saige became still, her breathing freezing in mid air, her legs stilling as she felt the stallion's presence. What equine makes that noise? Her ears were still ringing, the noise bouncing through her thoughts and fracturing the voices in tiny bits before they all came at once. Yet with the noise came the immense turmoil of the voices.
Who says its real, little bird? The noise might not-
The voices fled from her mind suddenly and all at once, tearing through her mind just like the teeth that tore through her flesh. A gasp rose from her lips, her eyes flickering open in horror at what had been done. Just like her own heard, teeth bit at her flesh, tearing a tad before the stallion forced his way between her and the other stallion. The wound he had made her matched the others upon her coat, the blood staining the cremello coat just like the others. Yet with him, it had been to force her along side of him, not away. This wasn't like her herd. He wasn't one of them, yet as he touched her roughly, she couldn't help but feel the similarities.
Fight back, little bird. Take those broken wings and fly.
She ached to take the voices' advice. She wanted to run, to fight, yet as she stared at the stallion with the matching coat and the red eyes, she knew it wasn't possible. It would never be possible. Her eyes widened as she stared at his own, her head shaking to shake this nightmare from her mind. The one thing that she had hoped was a hallucination was no longer true. Her mind didn't make up an image. It didn't hide anything from her. It terrified her. She backed away, her figure shaking once more as she stumbled on her bruised and battered body. Was this what it was like to feel useless?
Oh no, little bird. You've been useless all your life.
ooc: I apologize that my reply was so late. I've just started school back, but thank you for responding! And I apologize of how horrid my post is, I'll try better in the future! c: --- The Voices.- Thoughts.- Speech.
She backs away from him, her eyes wide with fright. He enjoys every minute of it, closing in on her like the wolf he is. The other stallion seems to have disappeared and so she is his and his alone. ”You’re mine.” A quick step brings him close to her once more, yellowed teeth finding her shoulder as his body presses into hers and pushes her in the direction he had come. No name is offered, he doesn’t waste time with such little things as greetings unless he has to woo one into the Chamber. He much prefers this way of doing things, letting instinct take over and taking what he wanted. She says nothing but he can see now that he is closer to her, that look in her eye that tells him she’s not completely right. A barbaric grin forms on his lips as he continues to push her again towards his herd land. ”Mourning Mountains will be your home. Now move.” He spits at her angrily, eager to get her home as quickly as possible.
"Her head is a living forest full of song birds..."
She had no voice. Within the chaos and the disturbance of reality, she had no voice at all. Her figure was stiff and tense, the pain consuming her in the most awful of ways. The other stallion, the one who had been so kind to her to begin with was gone. He had disappeared in just a few moments of chaos just like her voice, floating within the wing and strangling her like a noose. She was dangling. She was falling. She was all together gone. She listened as he proclaimed her as his, and instantly fear consumed her. His? I can't be his. What does that entail-
But dearie, you know what to do. Just as you've done since you've been born, obey and be quiet.
They were cackles within her mind, eating her flesh and booming within her head. A snort came from her nose, her head thrashing to drive them away, yet in that moment, his frame pressed into her. His teeth found her shoulder. And in that moment, she knew she was his. She instantly jumped away, her figure trying to soothe the feeling of others touching her. The pain was still evident in her step, the phantom of others touching her and pushing her away haunted her, yet here he was, ignoring her wishes. Don't touch me. She ached to scream at him, yet her voice was lost along with her own coherent thoughts as he pushed her again. Her hooves began walking in shaky steps, her eyes closing in horror at what was to come.
It's where you belong, little bird. Within a cage under lock and key.
A new home.
A new home. A new home full of terror for the young mare.
--- The Voices.- Thoughts.- Speech.
