» Be Our Guests

You gotta have the patience and believe you're gonna make it
Gotta hold on

She followed the flood of horses towards the edge of the cliffs at a distance, a mere shadow amidst the underbrush of the forest as the light-eating acorn consumed the pale gleam of her pelt and any light penetrating the overcast sky along the way. Silently she went, her footfall soundless; her mother had taught her the tricks of sneaking from a young age, and though she had not put the skill to practice in the past it came in handy now as she attempted to approach the gathering unnoticed. As others emerged onto the cliffs, Erthë huddled in the underbrush and peered out through the thicket with a gnawing sense of unease weighing at her, as if she already knew what she was about to behold.

And, sure enough, there he was. Kisamoa, the so called 'god' of chaos. Demon, was more accurate. Deceiver, murderer, liar, trickster... She could think of many names for him and they all amounted to the same thing, carried the same meaning.

A darkness welled up inside the young mare as she with narrowed gaze regarded the creature, a deep anger rising like bile through her throat and burned on the tongue like not even the magic flame dripping from her hair and wings could manage. There were no curses vile enough to express the hatred and contempt she felt towards Kaos; he brought out the very ugliest sides of her just by being there, just by standing there all smug and smiling while memories cut her like shards of broken glass, reopening wounds that might never truly heal. Certainly they had not had time to even scab over since last she saw him. The terror of the massacre was still fresh with her, a yellow stain of shame and humiliation as she had been conquered by the fear of death and obliteration; Erthë nearly choked on it now and knew her hide was darkening with sweat just from looking at Kaos, her whole body stiff and trembling, ready to turn and run away again at the slightest hint of danger.

Yet she forced herself to stay, the soft lips twisted into a grimace of loathing and distaste as she heard him speak - as if there mere sound of his voice was enough to induce nausea and left a bad taste in her own mouth.

'Guests', were they? In her homeland, guests always had the option of going back home. 'Prisoners' was the correct term for them, self-made thralls condemned to a life of servitude the moment they chose life over death. Erthë had not even been able to choose for herself; the foals in her stomach had made that choice for her before she even knew what a burden they would place upon her, and not a moment passed that she did not regret her decision to spare them. Perhaps that was why she could not truly love them, handsome little boys though they were. Though innocent of crime, their mere existence was a shackle around her throat she could not escape.

Now, it seemed that Kisamoa was taking great pleasure in yanking the chain.

Heavy waves of deepest despair constricted the throat of the little mare as she heard Kisamoa issue his last commands, and she staggered back deeper into the thick undergrowth, conflicting emotions raging within her.

On one hand, Erthë loved learning new things. She had made it her life mission to explore and understand the world around her, had devoted all her energies and thoughts to earth and sea, from the high heavens and the deep abyss to the unseen forces that governed the universe. It would have been a pleasure for her to unravel the mysteries of this strange world if she had been able to do it on her own terms, but now it felt as if Kaos had turned her own nature against her by making it a command.

She would never bow her head to Kisamoa. Sooner would she slay her own children and lay waste to this world he seemed to love so much before she bent knee and prayed to him as a god. Her whole being raged against the idea, but even as she spat and swore and vowed vengeance upon the betrayer for all he had done, a small quiet part of her felt a sting of doubt.

Who was she to rebel against such a powerful being? What choice did she really have, other than to obey? For all that she claimed she would have died rather than do as she was told, fact of the matter was that she stood there now, alive and well and unable to truly throw Kisamoa's words back into his face, for she had no desire to wilt and die out of starvation, nor did she wish to fall prey to some monster because she refused to learn how to deal with it.

"Curse you" Erthë hissed between clenched teeth, raging hopelessness turning her eyes into pale diamond as she stared at the demon. "Damn you, may you be sent back into whatever hellhole you crawled out of... I will find a way to repel you, just you wait. I will survive, and I will counteract you with every breath I take, demon, even if it is the last thing I do..."

Praying fervently to her dead goddess that she was not just spouting empty threats, Erthë turned her attention over to the crowd and began to commit the faces of everyone she saw to memory, noting their expressions and actions in an attempt to determine who she might be able to count on and whom she would have to look out for in the future.

I know you're tired of surviving but you gotta keep on trying
Hold on!