Morning Star || ANY (Jackel)

[Lavendel]

(OOC : made a whole bad ass HTML and then my laptop crashed. Anywho old friends and new feel free to join Lamb on this freaky journey of memory loss and new life)

      Starlight drips like honey off of sticks in the night sky. Moonlight hangs heavy over the forest below and the thick autumn air barely perforates the sea of emerald green. If one were to sail over the treetops at a high enough elevation they may observe the ever brightening amber orb deep in the forest. To see it up close would be rather breathtaking. Tangerine flames would lick at their feet and cover the foliage beneath in bright oranges and tinted scarlet. Ash would blow like snow through the untouched pine and land on foal’s noses in a gentle whisper. To observe closely enough would reveal the blanketed figure of an equine engulfed in the flame though seemingly unbothered. And then as quickly as the observer would spot the rarity the flames would extinguish with a loud and demanding hush. The ash dissipates and falls onto the figure below, covering the woman like a thin layer of lace. 

    The stars twinkle above and the moon hangs heavy over the wood as life below stops only for a brief moment before picking up once more. And when the sleeping beauty awakens in the morn she will have no recollection of herself or the life that she had led before the great flame engulfed her. 

Moss has grown thickly around where she lay, as though the splashed maiden has not left her place of repose in quite some time.  A terrible dryness has encased her slender throat and left the wraith incapable of speech. Deep in her womb she feels an emptiness that shakes her bodice in small tremors. She can not recall if there had been something there before or not, though something implores her to forget the thought and not dwindle on it any longer. 

 Pastel pink and purple rays of morning sun push gently past the layers of pine needles above and caress her ashen face with soft hands. Turning her pale face to the sky the mare closes her eyes and takes in deep lungfuls of ashy autumnal air. Her body breathes life as her bones creak and groan in protest to the movement required to stand. Leaves and dust long undisturbed fall in quiet waves off of her back and land silently upon the dark earth floor. Once perfectly kept ivory tendrils have grown long into curling masses of sticks and grass that weave into her mane in matted clumps. If she had any memory she would chuckle at the thought of those sticks once being flowers. 

  But that would have been if she remembered. In the place of flowers and laughter is a barren plain, one tinged in dull colors that a time ago could have twisted themselves into memories. Had she (or anyone else) looked close enough (and for a long time) they would see the faintest of lines like mapped roads across her torso. Long forgotten moments of her ancient past. It would be a long time before she found those however, now all she saw was the gentle shine of the morning star filtering through her inky lashes. 

[Juice]

Juice could care less about politics. He could care less that Sinner took on Castile and lost. It all had little effect on him. He was born in the shadows of Sylva and, for that reason only, did he call the great forest his home. Sylva is merely the only home he has ever known. It was familiar and thus, Juice feels comfortable; he feels safe. He knows how to dance amongst the shadows and, stay out of sight. He knows his way through the maze of trees and, how to slip silently through the dead leaves and pine needles. And, if he really wants to become invisible, the bay splash stallion could simply melt into a puddle of water.

Today, the now mature stallion decides to take a walk. He heads southeast until the Sylvan trees become sparse and give way to the full intensity of the daystar. Simultaneously, Juice feels thoroughly warmed and, completely blinded, by the light. Instinctually, his eyelids blink several times before they remain open at a squint. I could never get used to this! Why is it so bright? He takes a moment to toss his head a few times until his forelock moves over his eyes. A frustrated snort releases from nasal caverns but, the brown and white male presses on. Juice accelerates into a hurried walk with his poll lowered as he hugs the uneven shore of Loess. He continues along the coastline until the array of evergreen trees from the Forest come into focus.

Clearly, a creature of habit, the bay splash overo prefers to be under a tree's canopy. As he steps into the shade of the woods, Juice sighs a breath of relief. His poll lifts and, although he physically appears more alert, he feels more relaxed. Nevertheless, he listens carefully to the whispers amongst the spruce and fir boughs. His hooves land quietly upon the bed of fallen foliage. His bright black eyes scan the shadows on either side of him, as well as the path before him. Before long, his sensitive olfactories pick up the fragrance of someone whom he had not seen, nor thought of, in quite some time. Mom? he thinks to himself. His curiosity drives him forward and he continues to get closer. And, there, tucked in a grove far off the well-traveled path, lies his mother.

At first, Juice is awe-struck. It never occurred to him that he might see her again. And, certainly not here. Not like this. He had come to a halt out of disbelief and shock. As he regains consciousness, Juice closes his mouth and wills himself to approach her. With an unsteady voice, he calls out to the dingy but, recognizable, dunskin splash. "Mom?" When his question does not illicit a response, Juice pipes up again, this time louder with confidence. "Mom! What are you doing here?"
@[Lavendel]

[Jackel]

I’ve been there before.  

Waking up in a pile of dirt and debris.  Just waiting for the next little buzz of something to come alight and run sizzling through your pretty little vessels.  Prickling and tickling and evoking some kind of sensations you didn’t know were even possible of existing.  That high of adrenaline and ecstasy and that little twisted surge of fear all intermingled into the most exquisite cocktail.  I tell ya, when the dead come alive again it’s like being born again.  The possibilities are endless.

“Good morning, Sunshine!”

I’m practically purring as I drop gracefully from perch just a little yay higher than their delicious little heads.  By ‘drop gracefully,’ I really mean that I am pretty much doing anything but.  Instead I’ve stretched by front legs down from the limb of the giant where I had previous stood.  For the slightest of seconds it’s just my front two hooves on the earthen floor and my rear hooves still lingering on the branch and my torso stretches so elegantly between.  But just as soon as I pass the thought, I let my back end recoil and meet back on the ground with my front half.  Now that all four are on the floor again, and I’m looking mighty fine as a normal equine lady should, I glance sweetly between the ragged mare and the ragged mare’s child.  

Oh, I know of them both.  Of course, I do.  But do they know me?  I wonder, I wonder.

My wide black eyes settle on the worn exterior of the sacrificial lamb.  Smiling rather charismatically, if I do say so myself, I giggle impishly. You look awful, I think to me, myself, and Haide.

“You look awful.”

Nevermind, I guess I said it out loud.



@[Lavendel] @[Jesper]

[Lavendel]

"Mom?"
The voice is soft and curious but rings like a shot through the quiet wood. Tulip ears twist and angled features turn to face the boy before her. Well, "boy" didn't quite cover it. The stallion before her was almost a mirror image of herself. Pale milky white sloshed across his chocolate bodice and provided a stark contrast to the dark pine around them. His face was covered in curious concern and young eyes were wide with question. Her own large sea glass eyes searched the forest around them, surely he had not been talking to her? 
Before the dumbstruck mare had a moment to process a gilded creature stretched to the forest floor from her perch above them. The woman was swathed in brilliant golds and conch shell pink. Her mane was wild and littered with flowers and leaves from the trees she sulked in moments before. 
'Good.' Lamb thought 'She can collect her child and go'
Delicate ears pinned flat against her neck as she ventured to peer closer at the two before her. Some derogatory comment slipped from the opposer's lips but Lamb paid it no mind. Pale eyes flashed wildly between the stag and the maiden. 
"Perhaps both you and the child should go now." 
Her voice was ragged with age and misuse. It crawled its way from her chest and released itself in cracking waves of warning and building anxiety. Behind her lids twisted laughter and diluted colors built washed out pictures. Trembling at the edge of her flayed mind was her children, their faces and names tucked far into her battered brain. Somewhere out there her foals lived but the splashed stallion in front of her did not belong to her empty womb.

Her foals would be babies now not adults she reasoned, and with that, her mind was made up. Striding forward she shouldered past the two who stood so patiently before her. Moments before she had asked them to leave but something in the boy's plaintive stare and the woman's crazed giggles told her she would have to be the first one to go.

Cracking twigs and falling ash trailed behind her as did the heavy air in the clearing she had once possessed but her pace did not slow and pinned ears did not relax.
'There is nothing to fear' she whispered quietly to herself. For what harm could two strangers do to her?

( <3 )

[Juice]

The noise of breaking branches causes the male to tense. His lobes flick back and his poll snaps up. For a moment, he considers melting into a puddle to disappear. Though, the bay splash worries that constantly melting away makes him look timid and scared; a coward. Juice watches with wide eyes as the sunshine yellow mare, with pink points, drops in. Eyelids close over black eyes and blink several times - both in disbelief of an equine dropping out of the trees and, in response to her blindingly bright hue (which is as bright as if they are standing in direct sunlight). The mare's perfume seems familiar to Juice. He racks his thinker-box and desperately attempts to place it. He knows it has been a while since he last encountered it though he could not remember her name.

The steed's focus returns to the dunskin mare, who finally acknowledges she is not alone. When her ears pin, Juice becomes confused. He certainly was not expecting her to push him away. She is his mom. He is confident in that now. Her smell is exactly how he remembers it as a boy though, it bears the distinct taint of burnt embers. Her voice is more tired than he remembers but, it belongs to his mother, no doubt. Her words are as cold as her facial expression. Juice finds himself staring in disbelief as his own mother neither recognizes him nor, believes him.

The bay splash overo watches as she pushes past him with her ears still flat against his head. His heart aches in this moment, a hurt he did not know to be possible. What mother could not remember her child? His dark gaze catch the floating fragments of ash that trail her milky tail and, Juice finally realizes that he left her. What had happened to her after he left? How long did Jager stay? What did they endure? For all the times he acts indifferent, even cold-hearted, you might not recognize that he is capable of feeling anything. But, right here, right now, guilt strikes him and, it does not take long for the young male to snap out of his stare. He briefly glances at the brightly colored mare though, he is unable to recall how he knows her. He has nothing to say to her and so, with a decisive snort, Juice jogs forward, after Lamb (though he steers clear of her kicking range).

His voice cracks as he calls out to her, once again. "Please, Lavendel, wait! You are my mom. I am your son. I am Juice. You gave birth to me and Jager, deep in the Sylvan forest. Our dad is Jesper..." The stallion allows his voice to trail off. He settles into stride behind her by matching her pace. He could not be sure if what he said is enough for her to stop. If not, Juice is at a loss as to what he should do next. He is a too proud to apologize for abandoning her. He cannot admit that he has never once gone looking for his father. The better question is, why hasn't his father come looking for him?
@[Lavendel] @[Jackel]