11-12-2019, 05:52 PM
Separation.
Some horses around her are placed somewhere else; she is with some of them, with warriors and she, the accidental-savior, no, she corrects herself, always the savior by dying in his place; she is on one side, and old and ill horses are on the other side.
A river separates her from… from what exactly, she isn’t sure. Another part of Afterlife? Is it heaven or hell? Certainly it is not this dull grey part, which is neither. Or perhaps… perhaps it is indeed similar, or the same. She isn’t sure any more what is what; what once was normal is abnormal here, and vice versa.
It’s a rather odd situation. Odd must be dead, too. Why she thinks this? There’s this mare out here, claiming she can go out and bring another with her. But he is not here, so he must have died more peacefully than she.
So basically, it’s up to Ozzie to pull him out and restart their cycle? It had never been that way before, but sure, why not. There were stranger things in life, and in death probably even more so.
Speaking of strange things… how to get across to meet Odd at all? Provided he even is there… but somehow she thinks that the mare (the kind and good version), speaks the truth, even if she speaks in riddles. He is there. Their cycle had been broken, perhaps, no - probably - because Odd had died despite her trying to save him. Died of something silly too, by the looms of it. But she can make it right. Restart her endless dying.
Restart her purpose, her endless saving of something that had always been good.
The river before her looks dangerous; wild currents seemingly pull things under and apart. But look! A boat, and in it the strangest ferryman; a dead-but-not-dead horse in a boat.
She knows the story. Give the man a coin, and he’ll ferry you to where you need to go in the Afterlife. It sounds like a good plan, but she has nothing to pay him with; she tries calling to him, perhaps she can owe him a favor, perhaps if they make it back to life, then they (Odd and she) can do something for him he never could himself - but the ferry passes her, the stud giving her nothing but an empty look. Eyeless, emotionless.
Request denied.
Frantically she searches this side of the shore for a coin, for something, and when that doesn’t give her the craved solution nor a coin, she watches with tear-filled eyes how the ferry moves everyone but her around - and then moves away to other parts of the river, parts where she cannot follow.
And then her something good appears, the chestnut stallion she knows as Odd, for now. On the other side of the far too broad river, he appears. He calls to her. ”Ozzie! Look closer!” Like - no, she is sure that this is the case - he is not allowed to help her more.
There is something off about it, indeed. Something strange about the ferry. At first she didn’t notice; no-one sees beyond their own expectations at first glance, and hardly anyone does at a second look. In her despair though… Ozzie looks. She sees. She understands.
The ferry doesn’t float on the water surface, but above. That’s why the current and waves don’t grasp it.
She sets a hoof on the surface to confirm her suspicion and finds a solid surface. This water won’t drown her. How could it? She’s already dead! Laughing, near-hysterically, the seal bay mare crosses the river rapidly.
Water becomes land and land becomes water, because everything in the Afterlife is meshed together, and because she is a ghost. Ghosts walk through surfaces, why wouldn’t they walk on water?
”Odd!” she calls to him, happy to have solved the puzzle as far as she can tell. ”Run with me, you clever boy.” Odd is not his name, but he has many names all in one, and one isn’t better than the other. His face is pleased: a grin plastered on his mouth when she reaches him. ”You’re impossible, girl.” he shakes his head as he sets hoof on the not-river, and now, she thinks, now...
Now is the moment of truth, to see if it works for her long enough, and to see it it works at all for him, too.
Some horses around her are placed somewhere else; she is with some of them, with warriors and she, the accidental-savior, no, she corrects herself, always the savior by dying in his place; she is on one side, and old and ill horses are on the other side.
A river separates her from… from what exactly, she isn’t sure. Another part of Afterlife? Is it heaven or hell? Certainly it is not this dull grey part, which is neither. Or perhaps… perhaps it is indeed similar, or the same. She isn’t sure any more what is what; what once was normal is abnormal here, and vice versa.
It’s a rather odd situation. Odd must be dead, too. Why she thinks this? There’s this mare out here, claiming she can go out and bring another with her. But he is not here, so he must have died more peacefully than she.
So basically, it’s up to Ozzie to pull him out and restart their cycle? It had never been that way before, but sure, why not. There were stranger things in life, and in death probably even more so.
Speaking of strange things… how to get across to meet Odd at all? Provided he even is there… but somehow she thinks that the mare (the kind and good version), speaks the truth, even if she speaks in riddles. He is there. Their cycle had been broken, perhaps, no - probably - because Odd had died despite her trying to save him. Died of something silly too, by the looms of it. But she can make it right. Restart her endless dying.
Restart her purpose, her endless saving of something that had always been good.
The river before her looks dangerous; wild currents seemingly pull things under and apart. But look! A boat, and in it the strangest ferryman; a dead-but-not-dead horse in a boat.
She knows the story. Give the man a coin, and he’ll ferry you to where you need to go in the Afterlife. It sounds like a good plan, but she has nothing to pay him with; she tries calling to him, perhaps she can owe him a favor, perhaps if they make it back to life, then they (Odd and she) can do something for him he never could himself - but the ferry passes her, the stud giving her nothing but an empty look. Eyeless, emotionless.
Request denied.
Frantically she searches this side of the shore for a coin, for something, and when that doesn’t give her the craved solution nor a coin, she watches with tear-filled eyes how the ferry moves everyone but her around - and then moves away to other parts of the river, parts where she cannot follow.
And then her something good appears, the chestnut stallion she knows as Odd, for now. On the other side of the far too broad river, he appears. He calls to her. ”Ozzie! Look closer!” Like - no, she is sure that this is the case - he is not allowed to help her more.
There is something off about it, indeed. Something strange about the ferry. At first she didn’t notice; no-one sees beyond their own expectations at first glance, and hardly anyone does at a second look. In her despair though… Ozzie looks. She sees. She understands.
The ferry doesn’t float on the water surface, but above. That’s why the current and waves don’t grasp it.
She sets a hoof on the surface to confirm her suspicion and finds a solid surface. This water won’t drown her. How could it? She’s already dead! Laughing, near-hysterically, the seal bay mare crosses the river rapidly.
Water becomes land and land becomes water, because everything in the Afterlife is meshed together, and because she is a ghost. Ghosts walk through surfaces, why wouldn’t they walk on water?
”Odd!” she calls to him, happy to have solved the puzzle as far as she can tell. ”Run with me, you clever boy.” Odd is not his name, but he has many names all in one, and one isn’t better than the other. His face is pleased: a grin plastered on his mouth when she reaches him. ”You’re impossible, girl.” he shakes his head as he sets hoof on the not-river, and now, she thinks, now...
Now is the moment of truth, to see if it works for her long enough, and to see it it works at all for him, too.