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The rain droned on, loud and crescendoing. Aurelia hadn't heard his delicate steps nearing, each stride a beautiful dance enacted with limbs reminiscent of does and their beloved fawns. She didn't hear his voice for he did not have one, nor did the heated breath pouring from his fleshy snout pull the mare from her thought. The sky wept too loudly for her hearing to be of use. It was perhaps by chance or some mysterious otherworldly force that made her lift her head from the soil, to move from her cadaver state and resemble something living rather than dead. It was only then that her inverted pupils swept the area, falling on the shadowy man that curiously scrutinized her. Her entire body, despite being solidly settled on the ground, lurches away from him in panic. To one minute be alone in profound, somber thought then to see a stranger coalesce from what appeared to be thin air was shocking. For perhaps an instant her grief was suspended- the shock paralyzing her thoughts and mind and heart rendering her inable to compute, the surprise protecting her from her anguish until it shattered like glass on the drenched pine and earth beneath her. Her eyes focus on him, though they do not seem normal- they are pinkish and swollen from the tears that had been falling so freely moments before. The stranger has a finely modeled head on a long, lean neck that delves into a slender body with a deep, but narrow chest and gently sloping shoulders. He contrasted greatly with the mare who was stockier due to her mustang blood, with a wide chest and short, dense legs.
Before she can move to stand up or greet the stranger, a second face joins them, far more familiar than the first.
It is Rixen, who's blue-grulla body is a recognizable sight. Her name is on his lips in the form of a question. The only reply the antlered stag receives from the femme is a slow nod of her porcelain cranium. Her eyes flick to the ground once more before she readjusts her positioning, her legs bracing to lift her thick body from the ground. With one fluid heave, she is standing squarely on her mud-clad legs.
It still lingers like an abyss- her sadness; a dark void that consumes everything, leaving the feeling of mediocrity in its wake. It leaves an aching emptiness. There is nothing to subside the hollowness in her mind as it consumes her; she nearly cannot bear to pretend that everything is okay. Nearly. She smiles kindly at the men, dipping her head respectfully to each of them.
Yet still, she still feels the pain in the form of a coldness in her heart, a constant reminder so she does not forget about its all-encompassing iron grip on every aspect of her pitiful life. She'd heard that one could find purpose in the simplicity of their heartbeat; the steady pulse of blood flowing through every part of one's body, but she could never do so. She could no longer feel everything as strongly as she once could, leaving her with one mortifying thought as burdening as the weight of the world on Atlas's shoulders. Was she soon going to be a static mare only ever capable of sadness? Or worse, entirely numb? The aurelian mare was afraid of going completely numb, but also afraid of feeling everything again as vividly as she had before because quite frankly; feeling hurts. Feelings are what made her go numb numerous occasions before.
The numbness of her heart blurs her vision, rimming everything in red. It angers her. She felt as though could burn the whole forest down, or worse, set the entire sky on fire. But she couldn't for the numbness she felt would not allow it, so she simply stood there, the epitome of confusion and melancholy. "Aurelia," she offers breathily, her attention turned to the long-limbed, dark-bodied Teke beside her. "I'm sorry if I scared you into thinking I was unwell, 'tis just been a rough day," she quietly says now addressing the both of them, yet murmuring the second part of the sentence to make it seem less important than the first half. She didn't necessarily want them to know the depth these emotions affected her.
All this world seems to desire is to become noise, a distraction from her task to find a spark within the darkness- the one spark that will revive her aching soul, making everything how it was before... normal. Should she only find a sole tendril, a tiny fragment of fire, barely a cinder, it matters not, because she has always been a river of gasoline, waiting for even the smallest spark to unleash all of her potential.
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Rainforest Cliffs
