Tatter
12-11-2019, 11:15 PM
<center><style> #somuchlesscomplicated {background-image:url('http://pre14.deviantart.net/78d0/th/pre/f/2013/174/3/e/recycled_texture_background_by_sandeep_m-d6aeau9.jpg'); width: 540px; padding 20px; box-shadow: 0 0 8px #000;} #ahcallhowdoueven {background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/PzXXcRC.gif'); width: 500px; height: 206px;padding 20px; box-shadow: 0 0 8px #000;} #crazycrazylady {background-color:#173e4f; width: 460px; padding: 20px; font: 13px 'Times New Roman', serif;text-align: justify;color: #00101f; box-shadow: 0 0 8px #000;} #tatterquote {font: 14px 'Cinzel', serif; color: #508999; text-shadow:1px 0 2px #000; background-color:#173e4f;} #tattername{position: relative; font: 25px 'Homemade Apple', cursive; color: #508999;text-shadow:1px 0 2px #000;}</style><div id="somuchlesscomplicated"><br><div id="ahcallhowdoueven"><div style="background: rgba(49,35,26,0); background: -ms-linear-gradient(top, rgba(125,185,232,0) 0%, rgba(23,62,79,1) 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(125,185,232,0) 0%, rgba(23,62,79,1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(125,185,232,0) 0%,rgba(23,62,79,1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(125,185,232,0) 0%,rgba(23,62,79,1) 100%); padding-top: 200px; position: relative; top: 6px;"></div></div><div id="crazycrazylady"><div id="tatterquote"><center>Burn everything you love then burn the ashes.<br>In the end everything collides;<br>My childhood spat back out the monster that you see.</center></div><br> <I>“Leave me,”</i> the black mare demands, her green eyes hard and slightly less crazed as she climbs to her hooves, but Tatter does not balk. <I>“I do not know you, and I do not need your help.”</i>
Before he can respond there is yet another vision unfolding in his mind, and suddenly he sees <I>them</i> – both of the women – entwined together amongst the Deserts’ sands. Their love for one another is nearly palpable and Tatter swallows hard, wondering what this vision could mean. He had chosen to save the one that would’ve taken a dive from a cliff, but not the one who had been viciously mauled by her own son; was there supposed to be a way that he could save the both of them?
The vision fades and he returns to the black mare’s side, and for a moment he wonders what to do next. Then there is a ripping, tearing sound in the distance – somewhere amidst the shifting sands not too far off, he thinks – and a compulsion takes over him to <I>bring her back</i>. Bring her back to where, exactly? This is not modern times – the Deserts doesn’t exist anymore. Where is he supposed to be bringing this ancient Desert queen?
“I’m Tatter, not that you asked,” he tells her, hoping to strike up a conversation with her. They need to find common ground, he realizes, or she is never going to trust him.
<I>“I am Anatomy,”</i> she responds, her voice almost dull, though the fierceness never leaves her eyes. <I>“Aida is my daughter, and I cannot find her.”</i>
“Then perhaps I can help you find her, Anatomy,” he says, a sudden sadness radiating throughout his bones. “I had a daughter who once ruled the Deserts. When she died, I felt my soul torn asunder. I will help you find her, this I swear.”
The black mare only nods, and Tatter nudges her gently away from the cliffside. The journey towards the mysterious sound is not a difficult one, but the painted king is tired from his earlier scuffles and saving Anatomy, so their pace is slow. Anatomy doesn’t speak as they travel side by side and Tatter doesn’t force conversation, but one thing nags at the man as they travel. “I had visions of another mare, a golden one – and a vision of the two of you, together. Who is she?”
With a bitter smile, Anatomy raises her head to the sky. <I>“Craft,”</i> she murmurs, and she speaks of the golden queen with a reverence that is all too familiar to him – it is the same tone in which he reminisces about Frost, even after all these years of being dead. <I>“She is the other half to my soul, my queen, my partner.”</i>
The portal materializes ahead of them and Anatomy trails off, eyes focused on the swirling colors. Tatter pauses, watching as she approaches it with curiosity. “Anatomy,” he calls to her, hesitant. He doesn’t know if this will lead them to Aida – to Craft, surely, but he doesn’t know the fate of Aida. The black mare turns and if she had eyebrows, they would’ve been raised. <I>“So?”</i> she asks, looking every bit the queen she once was. <I>“Will this bring me to my daughter, or no?”</i>
“I... I’m not sure,” he responds, moving forward to draw nearer to the portal. “I was told that you had to be reunited, but I don’t know if it meant with Craft, or Aida... I hope for your sake that it is both of them.”
<I>“But you don’t know for sure?”</i> she inquires sharply, following him closer to the portal. <I>“For all you know, this could bring us to our certain deaths.”</I>
With a wry smile, he glances over at the green-eyed woman. “I’ve been dead before,” he tells her, “and the Afterlife spat me back out. I don’t think they’re too eager for me to return anytime soon.” He takes another step towards the swirling vortex and is pleased when Anatomy continues to follow him, curiosity coloring her expression. “And honestly, you’ll never know until you take that leap.”
<I>“I suppose... you are correct,”</i> she responds, following him until they are at the edge of the portal. It’s now or never, and together they take the first step through. <center><br><div id=tatterquote>Tatter.</div></center></div><br></div></center>
Before he can respond there is yet another vision unfolding in his mind, and suddenly he sees <I>them</i> – both of the women – entwined together amongst the Deserts’ sands. Their love for one another is nearly palpable and Tatter swallows hard, wondering what this vision could mean. He had chosen to save the one that would’ve taken a dive from a cliff, but not the one who had been viciously mauled by her own son; was there supposed to be a way that he could save the both of them?
The vision fades and he returns to the black mare’s side, and for a moment he wonders what to do next. Then there is a ripping, tearing sound in the distance – somewhere amidst the shifting sands not too far off, he thinks – and a compulsion takes over him to <I>bring her back</i>. Bring her back to where, exactly? This is not modern times – the Deserts doesn’t exist anymore. Where is he supposed to be bringing this ancient Desert queen?
“I’m Tatter, not that you asked,” he tells her, hoping to strike up a conversation with her. They need to find common ground, he realizes, or she is never going to trust him.
<I>“I am Anatomy,”</i> she responds, her voice almost dull, though the fierceness never leaves her eyes. <I>“Aida is my daughter, and I cannot find her.”</i>
“Then perhaps I can help you find her, Anatomy,” he says, a sudden sadness radiating throughout his bones. “I had a daughter who once ruled the Deserts. When she died, I felt my soul torn asunder. I will help you find her, this I swear.”
The black mare only nods, and Tatter nudges her gently away from the cliffside. The journey towards the mysterious sound is not a difficult one, but the painted king is tired from his earlier scuffles and saving Anatomy, so their pace is slow. Anatomy doesn’t speak as they travel side by side and Tatter doesn’t force conversation, but one thing nags at the man as they travel. “I had visions of another mare, a golden one – and a vision of the two of you, together. Who is she?”
With a bitter smile, Anatomy raises her head to the sky. <I>“Craft,”</i> she murmurs, and she speaks of the golden queen with a reverence that is all too familiar to him – it is the same tone in which he reminisces about Frost, even after all these years of being dead. <I>“She is the other half to my soul, my queen, my partner.”</i>
The portal materializes ahead of them and Anatomy trails off, eyes focused on the swirling colors. Tatter pauses, watching as she approaches it with curiosity. “Anatomy,” he calls to her, hesitant. He doesn’t know if this will lead them to Aida – to Craft, surely, but he doesn’t know the fate of Aida. The black mare turns and if she had eyebrows, they would’ve been raised. <I>“So?”</i> she asks, looking every bit the queen she once was. <I>“Will this bring me to my daughter, or no?”</i>
“I... I’m not sure,” he responds, moving forward to draw nearer to the portal. “I was told that you had to be reunited, but I don’t know if it meant with Craft, or Aida... I hope for your sake that it is both of them.”
<I>“But you don’t know for sure?”</i> she inquires sharply, following him closer to the portal. <I>“For all you know, this could bring us to our certain deaths.”</I>
With a wry smile, he glances over at the green-eyed woman. “I’ve been dead before,” he tells her, “and the Afterlife spat me back out. I don’t think they’re too eager for me to return anytime soon.” He takes another step towards the swirling vortex and is pleased when Anatomy continues to follow him, curiosity coloring her expression. “And honestly, you’ll never know until you take that leap.”
<I>“I suppose... you are correct,”</i> she responds, following him until they are at the edge of the portal. It’s now or never, and together they take the first step through. <center><br><div id=tatterquote>Tatter.</div></center></div><br></div></center>