You're so close to me that you nearly died [any]

[Anker]

The summer sun makes short work of warming Antimony's dark pelt. Her stride is casual as she peruses the meadow, at hardly 6 months old she had already tired of feeding off mother. The milk had begun to lose it's appeal some time ago, but she had kept up her routine, for mother at the very least. Antimony had an odd relationship with her dam, perhaps it was to be expected.

Antimony had entered the world squalling. Not to mention the fact that a pair of nearby rabbits had simply keeled over, her shrieks ending immediately after. It was discovered a short time later that Antimony could not survive off of physical sustenance alone. No, the child had to drain energy from nearby souls to survive. A condition that left few wanting to be in her presence, let alone make her acquaintance. She was often avoided like the plague, but it some sense she supposed she was like a plague.

She had tried before, not to feed. It was horrible the outcome, no matter how much food she consumed, Ant had been left almost lifeless by the attempt. Not feeding left her in a very weakened state, comatose even, if she ever took it that far. Ant preferred things with the opposite outcome, leaving a victim comatose, that was much more beneficial to her. She didnt even need to touch them, she could feed from paces away, hovering in the presence of another. She had fed off her mother often,but lately the taste had become stale, leaving her wanting more. So, instead of draining her dam, she decided to test out the meadow. It was a common gathering place, something she thought might be like a buffet, a little here a little there. Nothing anyone would miss. Well. Mostly.

She lingered in the presence of groups, taking what she could from each, a black shadow as she moved. Some would soon feel ill, perhaps cold and unhappy, but Ant? Well, she felt radiant now.

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[Aletheia]

what is dead may never die;

She hasn't been back to the meadow, not since she'd first found herself here, and then found herself over to the Valley just as quickly as possible. But today she makes an exception because today she's dared to hope. She's just come from the field, where she'd tried (unsuccessfully) to recruit. She's run out of options there, in the land where horses go to find new homes, and so she's trying her luck here, where they can often stay and linger and may not want home at all. It's a long shot, but it's her duty to her home to never give up, not so long as there are options available.

In this, she is so like her mother.

The sun is hot on her back, but not unpleasantly so. Aletheia is grey, and has never known herself to be anything but. She doesn't know how old she is, or when she was born, or even where she was born. She simply knows that one day she was here in the meadow. There were things before that, she knows that too, but trying to remember all of that is like trying to pin a shadow to a wall, or like trying to hold water in your hands. No matter what, it just streams back out.

Entering the meadow, the girl sighs. Everywhere she steps the grass seems to shrink away from her, as though it's trying to flee the contact. She doesn't linger long enough for it to turn brown, to fade almost to the point of death, but it would if she did. She keeps her sleeping to one spot in the Valley, and sleeps standing up as much as she can exactly for that reason: every time she sleeps on a fresh patch of grass, it inevitably is dull, brown, and almost dead by the time she wakes up. It will recover, but it will take it some time to get back to its former, radiant self.

Standing on the edge of the meadow in the summer sun, the girl looks around. Most horses are paired off, standing in small groups and chatting amiably. She doesn't want to risk interrupting a group; she's not here to make herself a nuisance.

It's then that she spots a solitary girl, young, weaving her way through the rest, unattached. Something about this girl gives her a strange feeling, and that's enough for her to decide to investigate. She moves toward the girl without hesitation, being careful not to touch any of the horses as she pursues her through the crowded meadow.

She catches up to the girl as she moves from one group to the next. Her face is its usual blank and neutral, but now that she's closer she's even more intrigued. As she stands in the bright meadow, the grass by her feet is already starting to wilt. "You don't feel like them." she says, her voice flatly curious. She doesn't bother introducing herself, not now. She's only just become aware that she can, very vaguely, feel a connection to horses she is near. She'd taken it for granted, hadn’t thought on it, because it was simply present with every horse, and so she assumed it was merely natural. Now, she finds herself questioning. Her icy gaze is riveted on Antimony, but her voice is light, almost innocently curious . "Why?"

but rises again

Aletheia

harder and stronger

[Anker]

Ant carried on weaving through groups of conversing equine, strolling as if she were at the super market. She did her very best to keep her visage bright and cheery, energy tasted awful when they were frightened, at least to the young girl. As Antimony aged, she would find she developed a taste for the fearful, an aquired taste. Similar to how one might feel about consuming beer, the first few times the taste is bitter and repulsive,  but eventually it tastes okay.

She picked at them each in turn, lingering a bit longer on the ones that were especially excited or cheerful, always a pleasant smile in return. No one seemed to be entirely interested in the young black filly, though few offered her company. She would politely decline, making excuses on where she needed to be.She had been full a few mares ago, now she was simply gorging, the meadow enticing multiple sources in the summer sun.

She stops, turning, another female had approached her. Actually just walked right up, no one ever did that, ever. Antimony was curious, turning her body around to face the other, older girl. Her turn is met with questions, why didn't she feel like the others, why wasn't she like them? Her shoulders rise and fall, shrugging, "I don't know, what do you mean?" She feigned innocence, telling people made them afraid, things that were afraid tasted nasty. It was then that Antimony tried to take from the older gray girl, she was young still, though resourceful she was greedy. A child's thirst for more, she didn't think of consequences, she merely did things as she pleased. Blue eyes reflecting her naivety, as she smiled sweetly.

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[Aletheia]

what is dead may never die;

For all her (short) time in this world, Aletheia has been accustomed to receiving. It's not that she thinks on it consciously; to her it is just like breathing, not something that she thinks is strange, not something that she thinks about at all. She absorbs a tiny bit from everything she touches, every blade of grass, every plant, every flower. Stay long enough, and she would absorb more. It's a simple and beautiful calculus.

It had taken her some time to apply it to horses. In fact, the first time had been accidental, and had shocked Theia almost as much as it had shocked Dimora. But since then she'd grown more accustomed to it, less likely to be shocked by it, and more inclined to be aware of it in a general way. And with that awareness came a certain capacity to use it as leverage when necessary.

Perhaps it is because she is so accustomed to receiving that she notices so quickly when Antimony tries to feed on her. Outwardly, her face and body betray nothing, barely even the fact that she recognizes anything is occurring at all. It is beautiful, how accidentally stoic she is, how she can let things wash over her and handle it all with an otherworldly grace. But this is different. It is a sensation of surprise, but it is a pleasant one – almost like letting one's hair down after a long day. The pleasure only lasts for a moment before Aletheia grows uncomfortable. This is not the natural order of things; she is not meant to be taken from. She is meant to take.

Reflexively, easily, she walks forward and presses her body into Antimony's.

And in that moment, the circuit completes, with the result of – well, a feedback loop.

As Antimony feeds, Aletheia absorbs. Theia does not feed, at least not in the classic way – she's more of a power switch that's stuck in the "on" position, a vacuum that cannot be disabled. Place anything over the mouth of its hose, and it will be sucked up. So too with Aletheia: come near her, touch her, and she will begin to absorb.

Pressed against Antimony, she can feel the other girl starting to melt into her. It is a strange sensation; she's not been touched by a horse for more than a fraction of a second since Infection had traced her crest with his rotting lips, which had been an altogether different sensation. This is neither pleasant nor unpleasant, neither good nor bad.

At least, for her.

"Yes you do." she says quietly, her voice delicate like ice. There is no scolding, no scorn, just soft observation. "You know exactly what I mean." She does not care about forcing Antimony to admit or deny anything. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She simply cares that they not talk circles around each other, that they get the truth out plain.

"Most horses are not like us." she continues, enumerating in case Antimony was somehow truly naieve. "Why are you this way?" Again, there is no ire, nothing but honest curiosity, so detached that it might almost be scientific. Perhaps it is a rude question. Perhaps it is a question that Antimony, like Aletheia herself, cannot answer. But the grey girl cannot help it. She's never encountered another living creature that feels the way Antimony feels. She's never encountered anything else that seems to take from others, and she is as close as she has ever been to being fascinated.

but rises again

Aletheia

harder and stronger

[Anker]

At first Antimony had had one of those shit eating grins spun across her maw. The taste of the energy, it was wrong, her face changing to one of thought. This mare tasted not just of a mare, but of the grass beneath them as well. Different energies were all rolled into one, Antimony found this an odd sesation. She licked her black lips as though they had dried and chapped, trying to place her finger on what this was.

 It was not until the moon hued femme pressed her bodice against her that she had any inkling as to why that might be.Young and naive, Ant had never considered that there might be anyone else like herself. Her mother had certainly never hinted to this knowledge, and she had never in person met anyone that held this trait. That all changed in a single touch.

What was for a moment, Antimony feeding, had turned into Ant being fed from. She could feel the energy source being sucked from her, a sinking feeling crawling over her skin, her lapis eyes widening. She had also never been fed from, let alone fathom a thought that anyone could even accomplish that. She shrinked away from the older mare, side stepping with a bewildered look.

The full charge she had held, was no more, she swayed slightly on thin coal limbs. Nearby, a Jay fell from it's nest as the black filly righted herself, looking intently on the gray. "Don't do that."she barked, looking indignantly at the other. Her ears flattened against her skull, still attempting to shirk away from the empty feelings.

She'd never been outright asked why she was, the way she was. "I don't know why, I just am. I was born like this. If I don't, I don't feel very well. I can barely move." She had given up the pretense, azure orbs blinking up. "Why are you like that? Who are you anyhow?" The young filly inquired, now wiggling her tail with interest.

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[Call]

Can this thread be locked please?