Beqanna - Adoption Den

Adopt a filly

Wed, 15 Dec 2021 16:01:55 +0000

Kinter the two month old hybrid makes her way around the so called adoption center- with every step a sound of gravel and rocks move out of under her hooves. Her pace slows until she stops- her ears twitch before she continued her pacing.

Kinter hoped to get adopted soon- yet she knew the idea was far fetched. What did the word even mean? She often though to herself, and she soon walked up to a birch tree nuzzling her white head on the tree.

Through thick and thin

Sat, 02 Oct 2021 21:22:48 +0000

I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me

Even when he had also been a lost child, he had avoided this place. Yet he comes now. Why?

Why indeed.

Aela had found a powerful child here and after taking Sickle from Tephra, he realizes the wisdom in plucking unwanted children from places that don’t cherish them. The Den was the easiest place to take them from with rarely any resistance from its caretakers. There is also something darker that brings him here, tied to the Fae blood that runs in his veins. Changeling foals, those that were stolen and raised by faerie. Why shouldn’t he take them if nobody else wants them? Look at what he had become, worthless thing that he had started out as. Just like them.

And if he can gift his son with a sister, a companion like the one that death had taken from him, he would happily do so.

She is not replaceable, the dead girl with blood red eyes, but perhaps another might ease the pain. Might help set things right and ease that guilt that weighs so heavily in his chest.

There aren’t many here and with a quick question to the resident fairy, he is pointed in the direction to where the abandoned filly lays. She is the color of sunsets and smells of apple blossoms and he looks down at where she has crumpled into herself with a flash of his red eyes, the rest of his gilded face smooth and unreadable. “Your name, child.” He finally says after a few minutes of considering her. More of a demand than a question.

obscene

For some reason it won't let me reply to your original thread? I have no idea

the author of my fate, any

Sun, 19 Sep 2021 21:21:32 +0000

Where do you go, child, when the sun rises?

Her mother might have been frantic if she were any other (better) mother. But the child had been born in the dead of night, dark teal with stars in her mane and tail, and the mother had resented her for so strongly resembling her father (just as the brother had before her).

And morning came, taking the moon and the child with it, and the mother had awoken to find the child gone. Perhaps carried off by predators, though there was no evidence of this and the mother was glad to be rid of her.

(Where did the cruelty in Karina come from? She had cared just as little for the child that had come before the girl, though she had at least bothered to rear him, teach him, even if she had not known how to do it kindly. But when she woke to find this child gone, she had felt nothing but relief. There would be no need to craft her playmates made of light the way she had for the son.)

Perhaps the child watched, invisible, as the mother had left. Perhaps she had called after her in vain, begging her to come back. (Would she have come back if she’d heard the child’s cries?)

And the child was seized by panic when the faeries found her as dusk settled and the child emerged again, this time the same color as the coming twilight. Pale blue, pale pink, a pastel sunset. They coaxed her to her feet and she followed them dutifully to the den, where she curled in on herself, smelling faintly of apple blossoms.

i feel the sun coming up, rising from the east
and i see the empire falling to her knees
and i lost the line between her and me

Leuce

You can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start

Mon, 02 Aug 2021 18:15:16 +0000

I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget

The world he is born into is a dark one.
So he sets it aflame the moment he is pushed free from the womb.

Perhaps that is why he is here instead of at his mother’s side. He can’t remember her face, doesn’t know her name. Perhaps she might have even seen past his pyro tendencies and kept him if it hadn’t been for the added bonus of small leaves, twigs, and rocks that had suddenly hovered and swirled around him before they too burst into flame. He couldn’t quite catch the word she cries out, if she had pronounced it “fire” or “fear”. He decides it doesn’t really matter and Fyr he becomes, accepting both pronunciations as correct.

It wasn’t her fault really. He was a strange child who made things explode in a fiery inferno with a mere glance in their direction and seemed to talk to a plethora of imaginary friends. Even the fairies here tended to avoid him although they were kind enough and did the bare minimum to keep him alive. He doesn’t mind that either at first. It’s not like he can be truly alone when he can call souls from the dead. Sometimes the fae caretakers can see the transparent ghosts of those he summons, sometimes they think he is merely talking to himself. Either way, they murmur to each other about the unusual spotted colt. A handsome boy, they think, but a shame he is so strange. So creepy. So dark.

The moment they catch him glowing gold in the moonlight seems to only confirm what they had already assumed. Something spectacularly evil in the making despite the allure of his appearance, a fate that reeks of death and tragedy.

Fyr doesn’t understand of course. He doesn’t get why they can't see the beauty in the darkness, the enchantment of a flame, the way he does. But even he is scared of the things he can do sometimes. The ghosts he summons in his loneliness (sometimes unintentionally) can be frightening as much as they can be kind. Luckily the souls never stay for too long, his powers weak with his lack of understanding and experience with them. As for his fire, well.. At times it does get out of control but the fairies always put it out before it can cause too much damage.

He knows he is different and at first he doesn’t think it’s a bad thing.

But as he starts to notice the wide berth he is often given, the whispers when he passes by, the looks of fear and uncertainty…. He begins to wonder. Was he as bad as everyone thought he was? Was he born wrong? Were his abilities signs of an unavoidable dark path? Was he evil? In his heart he feels he is just as good as anyone else. He hadn’t asked to be born this way after all. As the days pass he starts to wish that he was more normal as he watches other foals play and grow up without him. As he dreams of what it would be like to have a family to go home to at night, to have friends he could laugh and go on adventures with.

He stands in the shadows as the others frolic and pulls the fire from that smoldering source within him, narrows his feral yellow eyes as a small spark grows from a tangled thicket before him. In a matter of seconds the entire thing is set alight and he focuses his concentration, trying to shape the flame into a small burning tree. The orange blaze begins to flicker and move but he only gets it as far as a trunk and a few curled branches before it sputters out. He sighs, disappointed, as he glances back out where the others giggle and chase each other. A few had looked his way and he frowns as he sees them looking at him, talking amongst each other. Knowing exactly what they must be saying. Feeling abashed and shamed, he lifts his small hoof and crushes the remaining evidence of what he had been doing, unbothered by the heat smoldering beneath him.

He didn’t want to be bad. He didn't want to be looked at like Carnage reincarnated. Maybe he should just ignore his powers. Maybe they would just go away on their own if he stopped using them. Maybe then he could be normal and stop living life on the outskirts and everyone would stop looking at him as if he was a Dark Lord in the making. The jaguar colt sighs softly, torn and sad, as he stands in the embers of his destruction and wonders for the hundredth time if everyone was right about him after all.

fyr

an abandonment; any

Fri, 23 Jul 2021 02:45:54 +0000

Life changes you. Things that once hurt so deeply eventually do not, at least not more than an old phantom pain in sour weather. On the other side of the acrid clouds of suffering, when one sails far enough from them, a long look back can offer glimpses of beautiful and wondrous things. Cherished memories that can be recognized only after the passage of time and through the lens of the pain that followed them. There are some things that will never heal, and some old grudges that will not be set aside but usually the latter are the kinds of things that do not require forgiveness by another as well as of oneself. Some grudges are almost a pleasure to keep. The trouble is, far more things do in fact require forgiveness and must endure going without it.

She hopes that she has gotten better at recognizing her own guilt, and shame does not easily make her into a stranger to herself anymore. At least not for long. She may be too deficient of dignity to ever earn it back but she does her best impression of someone redeemed. Only when someone can see, for when she is alone there is a beautiful melancholy in her carriage, loneliness so long-lived that there is no more feeling it. Kensa only wears its weight and does so beautifully because it is physically impossible for her to do otherwise.

There are no more affairs, and many seasons have passed since she last felt a quickening, but a God will have who he might and she makes no objection. So a babe grows and makes her fat and splendid as the spring ages away.

Kensa has not always been a good mother. She will not seem like a very good mother this time, but she cannot raise this child. One day she may live again and raise her beautiful babes in sunlit pastures, but this will not be the summer. She will abandon the girl knowing it will leave a bruise on the child. Like the damage done to Brunhilde and Kelynen and Aloy, it is something she cannot help but will always carry the shame of.

None of her children have ever been so dark, even Valek had clearly been a rich bay at birth and still very obviously her child. Anath-- she repeats the name over and over that the girl might learn it-- is black and gold and touched with just a little white. Flashy enough to be one of Kensa’s daughters and still very different from the others. Do they know how loved they are? Will she?

Baby, you’re a wreck;

Mon, 02 Nov 2020 19:47:17 +0000

“The Gods are smiling down on us, Zekharyah.”

Fresh from the sac, covered in blood and fluids, the colt was more concerned with the sudden lack of warmth he was presented with than stargazing. Still, one indignant snort from his red-spotted mother and his sight slowly shifted towards her. He twisted one black-tipped ear back and pressed the other one forwards, signaling that he was listening. He shivered.

She beamed, covered in her own blood and prancing in place despite it. He wondered if she was in pain. He hoped she wasn’t, some small part of him recognizing that she was Blood and that he should Care For Her—

The snow crunched noisily beneath her hooves and she continued her lesson, despite the colt’s obvious discomfort. “Gods are loooovely beings that live up there—high, high up above us! Beyond the moon, among the stars, in a place far too beautiful for me to even begin to describe! Heaven, Zekharyah, is where the Gods reside.”

‘Is it warm?’ He thought long before he even knew what it meant, the blood around him already chilled by the snow and his sac losing all its warmth in the minutes that followed. He tried shifting his little wings around, but they ached, and they ached, and the ache travelled from his wings down into the rest of his bones.

She didn’t seem to mind, too busy prattling on and on about Gods and Monsters.

Zekharyah felt his eyelids beginning to droop, his body wracked with tremors. He was cold, so cold—

“—They’ve been speaking to me for a long time, Zekharyah.”

There was a change in his mother’s shrilly, singsong voice that snapped him right back to attention. Something that spoke to a part of his brain that he wasn’t familiar with yet. It needed him to get up, it needed him to run. But he hadn’t even taken his first steps yet. He didn’t know how to use his legs though now seemed as good a time as any to try.

She kept talking while the colt struggled to stand.

“Whispering to me since I was a chiiiiild!” The chestnut-spotted Pegasus sighed, like a woman remembering a lover she was particularly fond of—and she was, sort of. There was no greater love than the love of her Gods.

“It’s why I sought your father out, my sweet boy,” she cooed, her red lashes fluttering; he had managed to stand, though his legs were wobbly and his steps uncoordinated. He nearly faceplanted under the intensity of her glare.

“Black as night, they said, and though he was handsome, I still made him wait. You see, the Gods can see us more clearly this time of year,” she cocked her head, letting him stagger towards her—he ignored the sirens going off in his head, ignored every little part of him that was telling him to at least try to get away.

There was another part of him, after all, that recognized her as his Mother and Mothers promised safety, and warmth, and a full belly, if his instincts were to be believed.

(Were they?)

“And I didn’t want them to miss it.”

There was a thud and then an explosion of pain in his chest and then his shoulder. Someone was screaming and it took a while for him to realize that he was the one screaming. He had slammed back down onto the snow on his side. His mother prowled around him like an old jungle cat, giggling madly—which eventually turned into a full on cackle.

“Do you see, DO YOU SEE?!”

Zekharyah thrashed around, unsure as to whether she was screaming at him or the stars—her Gods.

“They want you, Zekharyah. They want me to send you to THEM—“

His mother went silent and still, though the baby boy still balked and kicked and writhed around in agony. All his Gods’ damned thrashing was starting to uncover the others—she could see some of their noses, still covered with flesh. She could see their little broken bones and rotten, spotted bodies, little babies that all looked like her or bore her spots and she hated it.

She had done it for the Gods, she reminded herself, for the Gods—

“My babies, my sweet babies...”

Zekharyah snapped his eyes shut, certain that this would be the end. She was running at him, thundering closer and closer, his heart mimicking her pace—but then she charged right on past him, the sound of her footfall growing increasingly muffled by the snow.

He didn’t see her run into the tree, though he heard it. He wandered over to her a few minutes later, following her prints though they were being quickly covered by falling snowflakes. Her head was twisted at an awkward angle and blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth. He almost thought to suckle, but the thought itself made him sick, and so he opted to snuggle up next to her corpse while it was still warm to... wait.

Sidewalk scenes and black limousines

Tue, 25 Aug 2020 02:04:58 +0000

I've got you deep in the heart of me

-So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me-

Morning came but Eyas wasn’t in a mood to enjoy it. The colors of the new day were beautifully mixed together on a blank canvas sky, not a cloud in sight, and the weather promised to be equally as pleasant; any horse in the right frame of mind would find it hard not to smile at the dawn. Eyas outright frowned.

No measure of good weather or pleasant scenery could distract her from the sound of little hooves following behind, picking their way carefully along as the pair of horses made their way up the common road toward mingled society and the shared lands. Eyas’ hoofsteps were louder, much more casual in their gait: they rose lightly but fell heavily, accented by the rustling of her mostly-black wings. Her son’s pace was more lively as he danced ahead and then waited for her to catch up, stopping only to look back at his mother impatiently every few hundred yards or so. Together they were headed somewhere new, but only one of them was looking forward to their end destination.

“Mother,” Eyas’ little colt spoke up, calling her the only name she’d allowed him to learn, “Are we there yet?” He asked his dam for the millionth time. Eyas sighed, looked at him piteously, and felt her heart break while she spoke.

“This way.” The small pegasus mare changed the course of his question and turned off the main path, leading them away from the field of long autumn grass and down a shaded lane to a hidden glen. Knowing better than to argue, her colt flicked his ears in confusion and followed meekly behind Eyas until the wonder of this secretive place began to captivate him. Something about this place seemed… magical. They walked further and the lane disappeared behind them, swallowed up by low-growing trees and high-rising shrubs, when at last the lane widened into a clearing as beautiful as any Eyas could imagine. Her boy loved it and was ahead of her in an instant, hopping gleefully from here to there as quick as his young legs would let him.

“You said the ocean was here - can we go now?” He paused once to ask Eyas breathlessly, causing her to smile through the sheer film of water covering her vision. She blinked her charcoal dark lashes and smiled.

“You can do whatever you like now.” The pegasus told him, then jerked her black muzzle in the direction of salty breezes. “That way, Narcisus.” She used his given name, doing her best to look anywhere but in his eyes when she followed her instruction with, “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

Her colt, the same dirty gold and smoky black she’d been when she was a child, tilted his handsome little head up at her and grinned with such austere beauty and innocence that Eyas thought she might break right then, but she didn’t. The seer held her composure and her wits together as she watched him turn around and gallop off. She waited for a moment until the sound of his exit was faint and then Eyas unfurled her wings, sunk down, and leapt up into the air with a few loud, windy beats of her feathers. By the time Narcisus realized he was alone Eyas would be long gone, leaving one of them to regret and one of them to perpetually wonder.

EYAS

just a plot post <3

Everything is alright, if only for the Night

Fri, 01 May 2020 20:15:22 +0000

He wakes up still damp and so, so cold. And alone. He pans his delicate head around the clearing he finds himself in, searching for the warm body that should be his mother. The trees filter in the weak winter sunlight. It was a good place to have a baby, quiet and peaceful. Not somewhere he wanted to stay by himself.

He tries to stand on weak baby legs before thumping back to the soft, leaf-strewn ground. Thoughts that are more a swirl of images and impressions than anything coherent, convince him that she only stepped away for a minute. Surely a mother wouldn't be gone that long. Not when he was new and fresh to the world. Nobody would really do that right?

Hours pass and he bleats mournfully from time to time, a distant glazed look to his eyes. The fairies had come and dried his baby soft coat and satisfied the most urgent hunger pangs, but that didn't curb the loneliness, the wrongness of him being left behind. What wasn't to like about the colt? His coat was glossy black, his eyes warm and brown. He already had a build that suggested he would grow up strong and noble. He wanted desperately to be a good son, if only someone would give him a chance.

He tries again, and again, to take to his feet, if he could stand, he could walk. If he could walk, he could chase after his mom. Of course! That was it! She was probably waiting for him to come to her right now and he had been sitting around wallowing. How was he going to be a good son if he couldn't even figure that out? The little boy snorts in annoyance at himself and with a furrow of determination he finally stands on shaking legs. A brief whinny of joy at his small triumph is all he lets loose before walking with wobbly purpose to find his mom.

Corvidae

I spent all my money on a pack of cigarettes
For a lady that I love with the name I forget

what happened to once upon a time; ruthless

Fri, 20 Mar 2020 00:12:56 +0000

“Gwendy darling, I’ll always love you.”

“Me too mama, me too!”

Snick snick snick.

The sound of claws on the ground and a ravenous snarl that echoes off the rocky walls of a cavern darkened by moss and water-drips. It smelled feline and mad, as it stalked them - mare and foal, mother and daughter, down the slippery corridor of stone.

“Hush now, don’t be afraid. When I tell you to run darling, run like your life depends on it because it does!”

She lifted her chin in a trembling nod, understanding the emphasis her mother had placed on that sentence. The kind of sentence that no mother should ever have to utter to her child but once said, it couldn’t be taken back. Both of them knew that, and knew that the nuzzling they shared then might be the last of the affections they would ever share in this lifetime.

For the mother, her heart began to break all over again. Bad enough to lose her interspecies mate to whatever madness made him stalk them now - a thing that she kept from their odd little daughter, but to risk that child and possibly lose her too before she’d even begun to truly live? Why her heart cracked wide open in two all over again, crumbling further into smaller pieces that scattered through her bloodstream in a rush of anger and love and determination.

Gwendy would live, she’d see to that!

And so, the mare did.

Her mate, maned and fierce, slavering at the mouth, rounded the corner and they confronted one another face to face. “Finally,” he growled in a voice so ravaged by madness, she almost didn’t recognize it as his. Between her flank and the cavern wall, she felt their child quake and quiver like a leaf struggling in the wind. She knew the poor girl would struggle more than a leaf would in the terrible games of life but that was a chance she had to take.

Or it was made for her, taken by the mate that lowered himself to the ground before launching his attack. They fought and dealt one another fatal blows but not before the mare could scream out one final command to the fearful foal - “Run Gwendy run!”

Gwendy did, not ever seeing the way her mother fell beneath her father’s attack or how for just a moment, at her name, the madness cleared from his eyes and there was a sad mix of love and pain. She saw nothing but the blur of cave and dark as she ran out into the light that swallowed her up whole, like a different kind of monster but one that folded her in its warm deceiving arms.

The little darling kept running and running until she could run no more. Lungs heaving, body flecked with foamy sweat, and tears streaming down her face - she finally

collapsed, on strange soil, on Beqannian ground.

Here, Gwendy’s story really begins —

She lays in a tired heap as the tears finally slow to a trickle on her cheeks. Tiny growling sniffles tumble out of her mouth as the indecipherable chittering of the fairies can be heard over her little sobs. They look like bright blurry blobs to her teary vision and she buries her head between the clawed paws.

Gwendy has been stuck between cub and foal since birth. She’s the result of an interspecies love that had started off just like a fairytale. Only it turned dark and horrific not long after she came along. Good thing she’s too little to grasp the full nature of what happened to her parents.

She knows that somehow a lion and a mare had her - something caught in between, that looks very much like it should until you get to the paws where hooves ought to be and the lion’s tail that trails behind her. Mama told her she was specially made but it hurts too much to think about the mare. It only brought another great heaving sob to her tiny breast that made her sick in air like she was drowning.

Gwendy might have been for all she knew, the pain was that big and quite like a sucker punch to the gut. Thankfully though, she cried herself to sleep though it was restless as nightmares chased her around in her head.

@[Ruthless] ❤️

On demandé pas le Lune

Tue, 17 Mar 2020 22:23:39 +0000

She was new.

Small.

Shivering in the early spring air, her newborn eyes blinking at the bright light. It filtered down with little care for where it landed, dappling the fuzzy filly and drawing glints of blue-green light from her coat. Her eyes shone similarly, unnaturally bright where they caught sunbeams. A shrill pitched whinny squeaked from her dainty mouth.

No one answered. No mother. No father. She tried again, still curled against the mossy hummock. The pony-sized girl sighed, and laid her head against the ground in defeat. The heavy breath twisted away in a miniature dervish, carrying flecks of moss and bits of leaves in a playful dance before her nose. She didn't care.

The scrappy puff of her tail tossed against the earth listlessly, a tiny bit sulky. Her eyes shut against the bright light, her nose buried against her chest and her ears flopping to each side. Maybe she could sleep. It would be better than this dreary moping, waiting for some shining mare to remember she had a daughter and where she'd left her.

An itty bitty sniffle wrinkled her itty bitty nose as a gurgle of hunger clenched her belly. It couldn't be long now. It just couldn't.

Born of graves and left below;

Sat, 26 Oct 2019 04:32:12 +0000

Amyrillis

Autumnal changes had turned the lush field into something new: something different, and had it been the brown and reddish patches of foliage… death curling them in on themselves- or? Had it been the coniferous trees not far off blossoming and green. Spring and Summer gone and deer bedded earlier and earlier, the locusts and cicadas gone; but wolves and other manner of beast prowled. The sky was also greyer, duller and littered with cloud, and the rains of the season left frozen dew and hoarfrost scattered amidst the leaves and upon the rotting trees.

Mushroom and mossy rocks seemed thicker now, and ferns had littered the ground, the solid earth provided gentle thudding and the crunching of leaves and grass was heard beneath the hooves of those who walked by and strolled idly around. Shadows chased them; but the day had opened and though the sun was dulled by clouds it backlight the orange, brown, and red leaves and made them seem akin to conflagrations of wildfire burning and blazing without the heat.

She admired this, enjoyed it, and part of her was so fascinated by it that she raced towards the brush and stretches of grass: bursting through and oracing wildly as fillies are often inclined to do.

To the eye it was odd, the sight of her. A creature athletically built and graceful; but thicker than a hot-blood sport type… perhaps crossed with something warmer. No matter, it was not this that made her queer; but her color. The fur was a deep teal, duotone and matte, and it bore with it flecks of orange and milky patterns of white or gray that spread through it and made it seem as if she were painted in a mural of stars and galaxies. The deep curls of her glossy mane and tail were little more than frigid strands of ice that moved like hair and their coloration was a deep emerald or blue depending on the light.

She was a star, a frozen one, and a replica of the sky itself at night.

Yet? Amyrillis was more so bizarre when from the earth around her… glossy black stones ripped themselves free: the carbon forcing itself together and stretched into a weave that fitted itself around her neck and hung like a braided chain… jewelry.

Turning to the sound of footsteps, the filly looked at her would-be-guest: smiling and bowing her head… the pale blue eyes wider as she spoke. “Greetings, stranger.”

when change cometh, she will bring peace at her back
she will not bend to your will; you must bend to hers

@[Carwyn]

I took the stars from our eyes and then I made a map

Tue, 24 Sep 2019 22:29:31 +0000

I took the stars from our eyes and then I made a map
and I knew that somehow I could find my way back

Orion doesn’t quiet remember how she has gotten here.

Most of it all is a blur now.

She only remembers how dark it had gotten instantly. The bright blue skies turned quickly grey. She remembers something wet dropping down on her face when she inspected the dark sky above. Someone had told her it was rain. Mama! She remembers now. Her mama said that rain was a good thing. It made all of their food grow and taste delicious.

But where was mama now?

Orion’s ears flicker back and then forward. Her eyes quickly dart around the forest she finds herself in now. Quickly, her long legs carry her forward. She outs let loud cries for help.

“Mama!”

“Mama!”

“Where are you?”

The silver grulla filly searches across the forest. She looks behind large trees, under logs, and a billion other places she could think of. None of the places she looked her mother was not there.

Orion stops in her pathway. Her legs feel wobbly from all of the run. But a part of her gives up looking any further. Where did her mama go? She only remembers the rain and the dark clouds. And the loud boom that came suddenly.

A storm.

It was a storm that came.

“Mama!” She cries out again.

Orion moves slowly towards a nearby tree. She curls into a ball and cries softly. All she wanted was her mama to come and find her. She was beginning to feel hungry now.

– Orion –

@[Endellion1992]

She was the kind of person that keeps a parrot. [any]

Sun, 07 Jul 2019 22:24:35 +0000

Popinjay was born late in the season, the frost was already beginning to gather on the grass when she opened her eyes to the world. And it was a big world, although she didn’t know it. Then it had seemed very small, only her, and the great warmth of her mother. She had been licked clean until the blood smell had dissipated, and then she began the arduous task of standing.

It took her her entire life to stand.

Or anyway, it felt that way. When you’ve only known the world to exist for an hour, a few minutes can certainly seem like your entire life. Mostly because it has been.

Now, that time is already fading, dark but warm, the taste of milk on her tongue, the smell of blood and horses strong around her, and the husky nickering of her dam. No detail, only flashes of out of focus memory. She remembers they did not stay there long but soon moved, if slowly, to another area. This area she cannot recall at all except that there were more horses that pushed close around her.

It is not much to carry with her, this light load of memories, and how she came to be here is a great mystery. She did not remember magic from before, but what rules does magic follow that it cannot have touched her world and stolen her away? She’s alone now, and that is the only detail that comes sharp and clear.

She is small, even by foal standards, light-boned and delicate, with short ears and large eyes. She is dark, the brown of her coat nearly black, so that the large star on her brow seems to glow in the early morning light. As she borders the edge of the small clearing, she is little more than a slip of shadow, flitting at the treeline, cautious. And then, suddenly, she squeals and bounds forward, springing high and kicking out as though reluctant to remain grounded. There is abandon in her way of running.

When she reaches the center of everything, Popinjay comes to a noisy halt and thrusts her head high into the air, taking in her surroundings. Have they changed during her dash? Not appreciably. She relaxes, lets her nose dip to a more natural height.

hm-hm-hmm ta-duh duh dumm

Sing-song nonsense escapes her lips and she casts about for something to do. A small bit of wood catches her attention and she grabs it between new teeth. It is light and smooth from ages in the water and, like a dog, she shakes her head, twisting her neck to feel the weight of it.

THWACK!

Popinjay drops her toy and leaps away, startled. Eyes widened and focused. A rock! She watches it suspiciously. Just where had that come from? Small nostrils widen, drawing breath, waiting for the rock to move, to show some sign that it could do so. Nothing of the sort happens and, slowly, the filly creeps forward with bent knees, ready to spring back to safety at a moments notice. One step, two steps, three, nothing. She is close enough to touch now and reaches out, pressing her nose against the cool, grainy surface. Still nothing. And then, she licks it.

It tastes like dirt.

I don't know who you are but I, I'm with you; Azlan

Fri, 24 May 2019 14:04:06 +0000

For weeks Lethy had wandered. She had slowly watched winter fade and melt away to spring, she had watched absently as flowers bloomed beneath her hooves. Life was simply there, her only purpose was to breath in and breath out. Nothing mattered to her anymore. She had lost to much before arriving in Beqanna and even here she had found out that she couldn't be apart of something bigger.

Her thoughts quivered on that day by the river. The pain shuddering her heart as she thought about her daughters soft, cold cheeks. She had been perfect, golden buckskin like herself with a brilliant blue mane and tail like her father. She had been perfect, until the plague had rendered Lethy with exhaustion, the reason her daughter couldn't survive, Lethy was convinced. She was so small, born early, but yet just the day before she had felt so powerful inside her womb.

Lethy shook her head, and continued walking pausing to lip at the soft green grass oblivious to where she was heading or who she was passing. She had wondered into a gentle sloping "den" of sorts, filled with flora of light spring colors. Her ears perked as her surroundings became intriguing, she had absently followed a path traveled by many mothers over the years. The scent of children past and present fell on Lethy, pulling the ache from her heart and momentarily bringing her out of the self-loathing hole she had shoved herself into.

She scanned the trees that lined the den and came to settle on a patch of flowers, deep purple like the color of her iris'. As she pulled closer to the wild flower patch, a small golden figure came into view tucked away into the middle, sleeping restlessly. Her amethyst eyes softened as she spoke, "Hello there, where is your mother?" softly she lipped at the child's tangled mane hoping to wake her but not spook her.

forget me not; but never remember

Lethy

@[Elle Belle]

tell me that it's all okay, any

Thu, 09 May 2019 04:02:10 +0000

When she was young, she never dreamed her life would ever reach a point like this. She never sought out love and never asked for it but it had found her, time and time again, only to leave her in the dead of night. Virgo cried tears of joy when she conceived the twins and again when Caw gave her the unborn child. Her young gave her something to live for, something to anchor her when life felt as though it would surely cast her into the stars once more. But tonight she has realized that she is cursed through and through. This life was never meant to find rose-colored love with a heart that’s true or eternal. No, her soul is grown from nightshade and brambles.

When the first contractions find her, she seeks out the den were unwanted children go. But she wants this baby. Virgo wants her more than anything else in her miserable life, but she has to say goodbye before her life has even begun. The tears come running down her cheeks as she settles amongst the children who cry and whimper out of fear. Her chest aches as she listens to their soft pleas for help and food. She closes her eyes tight and tries not to listen as she labors. Her sides heave with the effort and she gasps for breath around the pain.

Hours pass like this, her sobbing and pushing while the winter air bites at her wet cheeks. When her newborn baby finally slips onto the den floor, she’s quick to stand and look at her precious daughter. Her silver marbling glimmers beneath the full moon and her eyes reflect its light like a cat caught mid-hunt. Virgo’s breath catches in her throat and her sobs quake through her anew. She’s beautiful in a way that she had never imagined.

She kisses her face as the baby whimpers in the cold, crawling closer to soak up her mother’s warmth. Virgo quietly grooms her and whispers soft affections in her ear before finally rising onto her hooves. The newborn stumbles up with her and nurses greedily for a while, eyes closed and content.

“I love you. More than anything, I love you. But I cannot keep you,” she explains in a voice so soft it almost doesn’t survive to be heard. It feels like someone else is speaking and she cannot stop. “It would be selfish and you might not make it. I will not take that risk.”

The girl finally lifts her head, mouth framed by the milk on her lips as she listens.

“Risk?” she repeats curiously. Virgo kisses her face and begins to walk away. The girl shivers as the cold wraps around her in her mother’s absence. She assumes that she will return for her soon, so she lowers herself carefully to the ground and tries her best to nap.

may my enemies live long

Risk

so they can see me prosper.