[open] and I'll shiver like I used to

[Raewen]

Life had been simple. Rise before the sun with the cock's crow and greet the man with a soft whinny when he came to let her out to pasture. Dawn was her favorite time of day, the whole world seemed to be yawning and shaking off the sleep of the night before. The chill air and the mist rising over the pasture always exhilarated her after her warm night's sleep in the barn. She would race down the line of the fence and back along the other side in pure elation, shaking her mane against the chill pricking at her skin. 

The days passed peacefully. Most spent grazing in her pasture, but sometimes the man would harness her and they would work together in his fields. Some days she would pull a plow, some days it would be a carriage. The work was never difficult and she enjoyed being useful. The man was friendly and gentle, and so she liked him. Occasionally the man would put a seat on her and would ride on her back into a nearby town. She would be tied to a post outside a building larger than her barn with others of her kind for a couple of hours while their men went inside. She and the other horses would catch up while the sounds of laughter and music flowed from the building. She loved the music and would hear it in her mind as she drifted to sleep those nights. 

The years passed gently and without much change. The man brought a woman to live with him, and soon there were small children living in the house. She enjoyed the little men, they would come to her barn with her man and help brush her and feed her carrots or apples. As they grew, her man would place them on her back and walk her slowly around the pasture. She was happy to do this, despite their hands gripping her mane a little too tightly. They laughed and the man would smile and this made her glad. 

But some nights, after the man and his children had gone inside, she would feel a profound loneliness. Her man had his own family now while she was all alone. The sounds of laughter and talking would reach her stall and she would notice how awfully quiet the barn was. How had she not noticed before? Still, her life was good - she couldn't be happier, could she?

And then one morning, after her man had let her out to pasture as he always did, she noticed that a tree had fallen the night before across the fence in a far corner of her field. The entire panel of fencing had fallen with it and lie, useless, on the wet ground. She stood motionless for more than a few minutes - contemplating her options. Eventually, curiosity got the best of her and she decided to just take a quick walk around and return before the man was finished with his daily work. Her skin prickled as she stepped over the fence and into the unknown. The adrenaline of her unexpected bravery washed over her and she whinnied, bucked and took off in a gallop, enjoying the first taste of real freedom she had ever had.

She saw so much more of the countryside than she had previously. She ventured past other farms, by small towns like the one she had frequented with her man. She went over large hills and through creeks and around ponds. There was so much world out here to see, to smell, to experience... it began to feel a little overwhelming. As the sun began to descend in the sky, she turned and decided that it was best to start her journey back to her pasture. But as she walked, clouds formed overhead and a mist settled around her. The elation of the adventure turned into a sour feeling in her stomach as she realized she could not see any familiar sights, or smell any known scents. Her best bet was to just keep heading in the direction that seemed like it led to home. 

She walked for what felt like hours, the mist around her so thick that she could see nothing but a few feet in front of her. The sour feeling in her stomach spread into an immense sense of dread as the minutes passed her by. She couldn't help but realize that her man would know of her disappearance by now. The thought made tears well up in her eyes - how could she have been so frivolous when he had always been so kind to her? What if she never made it home? Who would help the man with his farm?

Exhausted and saddened, she barely noticed the sun rising and burning off the mists around her. When she finally looked up through teary and sleep-filled eyes she was in a place she had no knowledge of, but she could see other horses all around her. There was no sign of danger, and all of the horses seemed to be engaged with one another - none seemed to notice her sudden appearance. Too tired to try to seek one of them out, she decides to graze and try to regain some strength. This place seemed safe enough, perhaps after some rest she would be able to set out again to try to make it back home.

((repost because I really want to play her. Tiny if you see this please feel free to continue our previous thread!))

[wound]

Home. It is an interesting word which often brings thoughts of many different things to many different minds. The touch of a lover’s kiss, the sweet smell of a baby’s hair, the embrace of a cozy bed after a long day, the glow of love deep in one’s chest, the sounds of laughter and joy. Home can be a place or an emotion or a thought or a person.

Before Wound left the protection of her brothers, she considered them her home. They had raised her past weanling, kept her safe from the demons that snarl in the night, and they loved — still do love — her. The scents (musky and manly, often with hints of saliva or sweat) and the sounds (warm huffing, slippery speech, soothing whispers) of her siblings’ company bring forth thoughts of home from her childhood.

Now she considers Tephra and its inhabitants her home. The swell of the volcano, the ashen shorelines, Warrick and Femur and Longclaw, the sound of the waves hitting the beach, the scents of lava and large jungle leaves — they are all her thoughts of home now. However the most prominent one has become the flutterings that stir in the depths of her womb. Although Wound has never gone through pregnancy before, she is no stranger to the signs.

The silver bay is exceptionally aware of the humidity of her island home when she wades past the borders. The tide is higher when she crosses and for a few moments she must strike her legs out in a paddle to reach the other shore. The action of swimming causes her direction to twist (damn that malformed, bum leg) away from its previous course but she ends up closer to the field than her original intention.

Wound is dry by the time she reaches the field, though her ankles have icicles and her mane and tail feel stiff from the cold weather. It’s a warmer day for winter nonetheless so the silver bay is thankful for the sun beaming down to evaporate the water from her shoulders. The field is busy again, especially with the gentler temperatures for the day, but Wound’s coffee eyes catch on a roan mare grazing nearby.

Wound approaches carefully and politely, limping along until she reaches a safe distance to come to a halt. Snow crunches under her feet as she reaches the red roan, but despite the chill of winter there is a sunny smile on her lips. She can see an underlying expression of grief hidden beneath the layers of exhaustion written on the mare’s face and sympathy warms her heart.

“My dear, you look exhausted.” Her words are friendly and soothing. Wound is tempted to step forward and touch the other’s shoulder in a movement of comfort, but she resists. “Have you been traveling far?” Beqanna is a large world to explore, but the scents on this mare are unfamiliar and wild.

@[Raewen]

[Raewen]

The sweet scent of freshly-harvested hay clings to her still sweaty skin. Mud is thick in her hooves. Her muscles sigh with relief as the man releases her from her equipment she has used during harvesting. The light from the lantern is dim and flicks haphazardly on the walls of the barn as he puts away her tack. She seizes the opportunity to grab a quick drink of her water before he returns. She can see the weariness in his eyes and she knows his dinner and his family are waiting for him inside, but still he takes the time to gently clean the mud from her feet and to brush out her coat. She stands patiently and quietly, giving his hat a little tussle as he is about to leave. He smiles and pats her neck before gathering the lantern and shutting the door to the barn. The light now gone, she quickly nods off to sleep feeling heavy and accomplished.

The mare's words shock her back to consciousness and she blinks several times in confusion before the strange events of yesterday come back to her. Her mind works hard to both process her new reality and listen to and comprehend the speech directed at her. The woman confirms her bedraggled appearance, much to Raewen's unease. She did not wish to appear weak or lost (though she was indeed both) in such a strange land. But the mare seems kind, so she lets her guard down, if only a little.

She straightens up as much as her exhausted body will allow her (she does have manners after all) and tries to bring some levity back to her expression. It was kind of someone to approach her, looking disheveled and downtrodden as she did. "Yes... I suppose I have" A small smile stretches her freckled face but it does not quite reach her eyes. Homesickness floods over her at every breath and this strange land with all of its newness tires her even further. But what could she do? How could she possibly get home from here? She eyes the grey mare curiously, wondering how much of a long shot it would be to ask her for help. Her eyes are kind, and she had reached out to her despite her unkempt appearance... She gives a small sigh, deciding it could be her best bet. "You wouldn't happen to know of any farms nearby, would you? I seem to have become lost." Saying it out loud made it all the more real. The gravity of her situation struck and she could not hold back the anxious look any longer. The stranger would have to forgive her of it, it could not be helped.

((somewhat recycled, next post will be brand-spankin new though!))

[wound]

Sympathy throws away any doubts Wound might have. The feelings that follow being lost from those you love — insecurity, fear, frustration, disappointment, unease — are never positive emotions. The silver bay is surprised the other mare hasn’t lashed out yet in a way to express her discomforts. She’s seen several others that smell of other worlds snap and coil like snakes when strangers approach. Negative emotions often produce negative reactions, she has noticed.

She doesn’t blame the red roan for her apathetic reaction to Wound’s presence. Beqanna can be a frightening place, especially in comparison to the comforting rhythm of a previous life. Nonetheless, the other mare reacts rather kindly toward the situation. For a brief moment, relief dances in Wound’s chest (she will not be sneered at or kicked at today). It plummets when the mare mentions a word the silver bay had never heard before — farm.

Confusion writes itself across her pretty face as her brows pull together. Wound has spent all of her life within the confinements of Beqanna’s territory and doesn’t understand words such as farm or human or harness. Perhaps her life is easier because of that, but in this moment it renders her task a bit more difficult.

Another gentle look swarms Wound’s face to replace her confusion. The roan is clearly agitated with her unfamiliar surroundings and the words the bay will say cannot soothe that anxiety. She wishes it could. “I’m afraid I don’t know what a farm is…” There is a drag to her words, a heaviness that shows how awful Wound feels to deliver such news. To have traveled far enough that the language has changed must make the stranger feel even more unwelcome.

“My name is Wound. I’d love to help you look for your home, if you’d like.” Coffee eyes glance up at the sky, where the sun is quickly beginning to dip closer to the horizon. Soon enough the stars will come out — and along with them, the predators of the night. “It will be dark soon. I don’t think you’d want to be caught out in the open once night falls.” Her gaze returns to the red roan, an expression of friendly concern on her face. “My home is called Tephra. I can provide you safety while you search for your ‘farm’ in the meantime.”

[Raewen]

She was no stranger to those of her own kind; she had spent countless leisure hours in the town amid their company as her man had sought out the company of his own kind. They were all like her, more or less... farm help. Some had better lives than others, to be sure. Some lived with family in comfort while others were driven so hard that their lives were cut short by the stress of it all. Raewen always knew where she stood in their ranks and was able to converse with them accordingly in relative ease. They spoke of the weather, the crops, the seasons, their people. They gossiped of those that were missing, or caught up on news of their human companions. 

Now, though, she felt she would have better luck communicating with a human. At least she and her man shared some common ground. In this strange land, with its strange inhabitants, she was alien. She could make out the concern and the warmth of Wound's expression, but this did little to sooth her aching body and heart. She hoped against all reason that this was just a nightmare - one she would share in passing with her friends in the town upon her next visit. You wouldn't believe this awful dream I had last week! I got loose somehow and, silly me, got lost and found myself in this strange place where there weren't any farms or humans. I've never been so relieved to wake up! But it was all too real and somewhere deep inside she knew she would never tell that story.

The mare's offer to help surprises her, but she hardly has time to process this kindness when she speaks again of the advancing darkness. Like a cornered rabbit, Raewen's tired eyes dart around her to take in as much information as quickly as possible. She feels threatened just by the suggestion of nighttime. There are so many strangers around them in this open field, many of them male. While she has had interactions with stallions and geldings alike in the town, it was all while they were tied up and unable to get to her. Some accepted their situation and acted amiably enough while others fought against their constraints (depending on the attitude and the season). She has no desire to be alone in the darkness where there are no hitching posts to hold them at bay. She takes an unconscious step or two toward Wound. 

Closer now, she can make out the smell of salt and something more acrid beneath (how could she possibly understand the distinct smell of sulfur?) on her companion. In her now-heightened awareness she takes notice of her unusual front leg that seems to hinder rather than help. So many thoughts jumble through her mind at this observation that she feels temporarily silenced. A horse with such a deformity in her world would never have made it past its first few hours of life. What good was a horse that couldn't work? But of course if there was no farm to tend, and no humans to do the deed perhaps this was a place full of things that could surprise her. The leg does not seem to have made its bearer any less kind, and so Raewen does her best to look past it lest she appear unappreciative or mean-hearted. After a moment of contemplation she nods decisively. "Thank you, I think that would be best." Despite her fatigue, her fear pushes her to follow the mare to what she can only hope is safety. 

@[wound] I'll put a post up in Tephra