She had been a blessed child for most of her short life, her days revolving around the oasis and her few friends. For a while, she'd had both parents; then, after her father's death, she had spent much of her time with her mother. Now, she had neither. She didn't know where her siblings were, or if they were even still alive. Nor did she know where her friends may have gone. This world was dark and dank and terrifying. She hadn't the slightest idea of where she was or how to fend for herself without a herd to protect her. And, even worse, she had never before felt so horribly alone. She'd always had the ghosts to turn to, back home. Here, her ghost-seeing powers seemed to have disappeared. Try as she might, she could not seem to summon Father or Mother, and she could not seem to find a single stranger's ghost to ask for directions. Did this odd new world just not have ghosts? It seemed impossible, and yet... why couldn't she see them?
Frustrated and frightened, the girl had wandered south, away from the Portal that stood as a stark reminder of everything she had lost. Always fair, Vinati reminded herself constantly of the large cat that could have eaten her but didn't, so it could have been worse... but even that was little help, not when she could still hear screams reverberating in her hear. Perhaps, she reasoned, the lands surrounding her landing place were better, lighter, filled with friendly folk. It seemed doubtful, but the sand princess had always been a dreamer. It was the hope for something better that drove her on now, through dark and lonely woods, past strange and eerie plants, ignoring frightful sounds and Gods only knew what might be lurking just beyond her line of sight.
The ooze that had settled onto her wings disgusted her. She hadn't the word for it - ectoplasm - but it was nasty stuff, coating her feathers with slime and dripping onto the forest floor with soft plops. When she looked behind herself, she found that she had left a lovely trail for just anyone to follow. The gel-like substance weighed her down, preventing her from leaping into flight and getting her bearings in her new surroundings. Twigs and leaves got stuck in it, and the girl could only imagine what would happen were she to lie down in the dirt and sleep. She had never thought herself vain, but this seemed to be asking a bit much of a child, even one normally as calm and cheerful as she.
s a v e r a & d e v i
we might be hollow but we're brave and i like you
We escape the portal relatively unscathed, though my senses remain clouded, nearly useless, and Savera is still scared. We are fortunate, though - Neaera's Nix has fled into the darkness, and though I am too busy focusing on survival to care, my morning star is deeply perturbed by the zephyr's absence. She frets, agonizes, that her sister is hurt, that anything should dare touch her precious twin; yet at the same time a deep, wretched part of her is pleased, grinning cruelly as it whispers to the back of her mind that perhaps now Neaera will need her even more, that she will be invaluable to her sister in this dark hour. The ivory damsel presses her shoulder periodically to her twin's, runs her muzzle in the flaxen mane, checks on the ugly Charon's well being. I notice this, but I don't much care. She is the third in her trifecta, the final star born, the last to rise. This bothers her, though I could not say why - I am superior, so she must be. All other arguments are moot.
Onward we wander, Savera trailing her sisters as she struggles to comprehend without being overwhelmed. This world is big and strange; she wonders at it without digestion; she loathes it for its vastness; she is awed and afraid. Trees like giants stretch around us, ancient creatures full of dark secrets. From their boughs we see the glitter of stars - or is it eyes? It is hard to say in this murky light. My morning star shudders, viscerally unhappy by the absence of sky, her small wings yearning to carry her away and out of this dark phantasma, this hell. She tries to stay close to the others, to remain within eyesight and earshot, but it is difficult, so difficult, and without me to guide her she quickly becomes lost.
She pauses when she realizes, suddenly, that she can no longer hear Neaera or Vesper. The princess' body grows suddenly rigid, heterochromatic ears erect. I can feel the terror rising within her, the overwhelm rising behind her eyes. She turns her head, gold eyes saucer wide, heart racing, hair on end; my attempts at purring to calm her down yield no results and I resign myself to sitting among her horns, waiting for her to settle down. They'll come to us, they'll find us, if only my partner can be still - but Savera doesn't settle, isn't still, and before I can protest she is inching forward, following a promising flash of light.
The light, it turns out, is the reflection of another - and Savera begins to sigh her relief before the realization strikes her, this is not her sister. "Oh!" she squeaks, her voice bright and brittle in the neon gloom, her expression hopeless as she tries to comprehend this stranger, to soak her in and commit her to memory and maybe understand her, so she need not be afraid. She does not know yet to run from strangers, to flee danger, and so she does not try to escape - she only stares, and I do to, though from my position on her head the newcomer is little more than a hazy, uninteresting blub resembling every other outside our family that I have ever seen.
And through the Portal I went, given moments of vibrant colours indicating that a warm mass of body existed around me, that my family encompassed me and the Rift was overflowing with us - it was information I had grown dependent on, the process of my brain taking in the images, the blurred bodies and their distorted shapes and bright colours that registered as objects. I have remembered the shape of my mother, of apa, of Sikeax and Hobgoblin, I remember all of their figures, but now they are gone. I am reaching out, searching my memory for the way they look, for the colours that gave me a sense of what the world around me looked like - but it was washed in black, dripping fear and the sense of nothingness, back to square one. And this time, it's not the throb of information overload, the fullness that makes my head feel heavy and too small. It is thundering emptiness, it's the lack of something, reaching out for something that I'm never going to reach, that is beyond my capability. I return to the darkness I was not born into, but forced into with mangled hands and wild panic, with misfortune and crushed hope.
I choke at the memory of Momma, of my world bathed in red as her teeth met my skin and I feel a sob rack my body, a sharp intake of breath as I remember the feeling of her kissing the wounds she had left, of telling me to go. Of her apologies, falling to deaf ears until the end was upon us and all I could hear was her pleading for my forgiveness, knowing that I could not give it because it still hurts. And her selfish act, her promise that I would find better days, that I would be better and now I'm choking, heaving against a tree because I am still not ready to accept that she is not there. She never was, but I knew that at the least, she was alive, she was alive and sometimes she would talk to me, sometimes they would talk to me - her company was never unwanted, but it riddled me with anxiety and uncertainty, and I could not stay for long. And I think I regret it now, which seems so fucked up, that now that she's dead my eyes are finally open (probably a bad expression to use) to the fact that I should've spent more time with her, that pushing her away was my mistake, but hurting me was hers. She pushed me away too, both of us afraid of what would come out of a sudden swing, a flick of the switch and then - would I lose something more? Something more than my sight, than my wings and my childhood, would I lose my life? Would I finally gain acceptance into Death's embrace, a gift I had longed for so desperately when the world was in darkness and I was the Damned child. But now that I have seen all that it can do, all that it means to die, I am hesitant to take Death's hand.
I return to those depths, despairing and desolate because I cannot run from it, there is no hiding or escaping what will always be there. I am stranded in silence and misery, in black that eats away at the familiar and I am left to grasp distance on my own, to helplessly feel my way through the world, mangled wings twitching as though they may provide some sort of help despite being entirely numb. I am reaching forward with hesitance, feeling my gut churn at the sense of helplessness, the ground the only solid thing I know is there beneath me. Branches snag against skin, knees scrape against dirt and roots as I fall again, unable to recall just how many times I have tripped over something - I can feel the trickle of warm blood, soaking into my coat and running down my legs as I find myself on the ground again, giving a deep huff and a quiet "fasz," as I attempt to rise again. Then I am setting off once again, gingerly stepping forward, sliding my hooves out before committing to the step. It's a tedious process, and I do not know how long it will take me to get anywhere.
And then from nearby, there is rustling, movement - I am stiff, rigid in the face of danger I have no chance against, I am defenseless, I have no way of knowing what they are, whether they are familiar or foreign, so I run. I seem to be doing a lot of that these days. I am panting and terrified, bolting through the damp, rainy forest and suddenly there is something in front of me - a tree, rough and sturdy, that takes the impact of my body and does not shudder or sway because I am petite compared to what I can only assume is it's hulking figure. So I crumble against in, the air in my lungs swept out from within and I gasp sharply, sides heaving and heart racing because "fasz! Kibaszott szar szar! Haszontalan fa! Fasz!" The spew of curses leaves my lips in loud, breathless syllables as I spit at the tree, too unsteady to stand as my head twirls atop my shoulders. Readjusting to blindness will be a blast.
You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold
Like Isopia, Otem was not particularly fond of crowds. Otem had her twin and that was all that she really needed, aside from Pandora. However unlike Isopia, Otem also did not like being left out, and knew that if she was going to get ahead in this world, she couldn't do it solo. She needed to meet people, to know people, and to fit in. Or at least appear to fit in, even if she was rather cold on the inside.
Watching your mother die in front of you as the whole world turns to shit will do that to a kid.
"Uhm, Hi?" Otem called out to the group ahead of filly's who appeared to be around her age. "Helovia?" She asked, stepping nearer and letting her burgundy and gold gaze cast around. Each of them looked a little strange, but it was well within helovia-strange, or so the girl thought.
One of the filly's, the darkest of them, mutters something in a language that doesn't even sound like words, as she huddles against a tree. "Did... did either of you understand that?" Pandora who was sitting on Otem's wither hooted towards the blind girl as if trying to offer her more concrete and reassuring sounds to acquaint herself with. The owlet had apparently picked up on her blindness, even if her bonded had not.
Savera had gotten lost. Of course it was her twin that was the cause of it - Neaera didn’t blame herself for much, not even at this age. She felt panic rising within her though, panic driven by fear that this was it. Nix had left, flown away into the strange trees accompanied by Lucius, and had not returned. Was her sister pulling the same trick? Their parents weren’t around, but that was more of a ‘the twins had left’ than their parents had abandoned them.
She had never in her life been in a situation where Savera was not within eyeshot and she had to say, she did not care for it. Her metallic eyes flashed around - daring the darkness to conceal her twin any longer. She wouldn’t let it. Nothing in this area frightened her - it was no more strange or natural seeming than the world of smoke and gloom that they had left through the portal - and certainly none of it was scary in comparison to her sister’s absence.
The ‘Oh!’ in that familiar voice caused Neaera’s head to snap in that direction and in a moment she was bounding over towards her sister - a soft purple muzzle brushing against her Savera’s white side, checking that she had not gotten into any trouble in their separation.
Only after her inspection was satisfied did she turn her gaze to the other foals - staring at them in a manner that was a little too intense, but accidentally so.
Today seemed to be a day of firsts - the first time she and Savera got separated, and the first time she met others close to their age. But, one of them had uttered a word she recognized when she was coming over so she nodded quickly to the bronze girl - and uttered a quiet “Helovia.” in confirmation.
07-18-2017, 04:54 PM (This post was last modified: 07-18-2017, 04:54 PM by Vinati.)
Vinati
Vinati seemed to have become the unwitting siren that called foals to a central point, and as more of them appeared, her mood began to improve in spite of her anger and depression. It was, after all, easier to focus her attention on new friends than it was to consider the implications of her plight. If she could distract herself from her losses and from the scary terrain all around them, perhaps she would be able to better process things later. Or, even better, maybe her magic would come back!
The girl looked dreamily around at her companions as, one after another, they emerged from the trees. The first to appear was cream-colored and younger than Vinati. Her small body held wings and horns, an oddity to the filly who had spent so much of her time among the Pegasus of the desert sands. Oh, she may have seen other species and mixtures, but more than anything else, she was used to those with just wings. The addition of horns fascinated her, and she appraised the newcomer with distant eyes as she wondered vaguely where the younger girl had come from.
Another filly appeared then, with a dark pelt speckled with stars and a mane and tail the color of fire. She seemed panicked, fleeing from some unknown evil and running directly into a tree. Vinati stared. There didn't appear to be anything that terrifying nearby, so why had the speckled girl spooked herself right into an immovable object? "Are you all right?" she asked warily. She wasn't sure that she expected a response, since the girl didn't appear to have uttered a single word in the language the rest of Helovia had shared. Was she from this odd land? Had she been running from something that they all ought to flee from?
The next to appear was another tribrid and, to Vinati's great relief, appeared to be able to speak the Helovian tongue. Looking at the stranger gratefully, she shook her head. "I've no idea what she said," she admitted ruefully. "But I'm from Helovia, too." Another voice agreed, and Vinati turned to notice that another filly had joined them, standing very close to the first. Perhaps they were sisters, or perhaps just very good friends. Vinati was not one to make assumptions. She supposed that she should do the polite thing, and subsequently started a round of introductions. "My name's Vinati. Pleased to meet you all," she said in that dreamy way she had, a small smile unfolding upon her lips.
s a v e r a & d e v i
we might be hollow but we're brave and i like you
They are the moths, drawn to a flame of familiarity, dancing delicately around the gentle, cooing promise of community, of hope. Savera watches the stranger curiously, cold eyes appraising the bigger filly, silence stretching between them as they circle and watch. The girl is older, darker, draber than the morning star or her twin (where are you?) - but the blue eyes are striking, the wide blaze bold, and the wings enchant the little girl. They are so much greater than Savera's own - why wouldn't the stranger fly away, abscond from this dark hell and return to the sky? Make her way back home, or at the very least out of these woods. Is she stupid?
She doesn't have time to learn the answer. Her gaze, soft and curious a moment ago, goes hard; she whirls around, pivoting, as an eruption of words bursts out behind her, accompanied by a smell. The girl wrinkles her delicate nose, recoiling in distaste, horrified and confused. Is this a monster? Have the eyes in the woods finally taken form? Is it dead? She wants to know more, to look closer, but at the same time she cannot bring herself to approach it; it is repulsive to her, an ugly thing, and the princess shies from it instinctively... bringing herself close to another stranger, this one also much larger than the little star, a statuesque child of bronzes and gold. It is a lot - it is too much - and although Devi hoots eagerly and childishly at the other owl, delighted to hear a sound so like those she herself makes, Savera herself is at a loss. There are too many bodies, too heavy of breath- too much newness, and the filly finds herself growing quickly overwhelmed. Where is Neaera? Why hasn't her sister come? She is lost without her darker twin, her anchor, her north star.
And then, as if on cue, Neaera appears - and the world becomes right once more.
She lets her twin investigate her while running a gold nose through the violet child's mane, inhaling deeply the sweet smell of Neaera (almost enough to block out that rot). There is dialogue, a cacophony of voices that grates upon the girl's ears until one - her sister's - rings out like a bell, cutting through the tumultuous noise. Savera looks up, silver gaze impassive as she stares across her twin's back, trying to gauge the response of the strangers, the assumed assent and the incoming introductions. She shakes her head when asked if she understands the foul-smelling girl, nose wrinkling once again, Devi bobbing in time on her crown, but offers no further insight, no comment or dissent. Instead she carefully watches the others, eyes flicking between them all in turn, lingering on the blue-eyed stranger as she gives her name. Savera does not offer one in answer - she was not asked, doesn't know she us supposed to. Instead she offers her own small smile, shy as the sun peeking out from behind clouds, a delicate softness in the marble facade. Is this what it is to make friends? she wonders, glancing sidelong at her sister. Are we making friends?
Well Neaera may be, and the others too- but you, little morning star, are just being odd.
You'll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold
Relief washed through the autumn-coloured girl as those present (except the oddly silent filly) confirmed that they were all Helovian. Otem hadn't met anyone who wasn't from Helovia yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Then again ... it was possible that they could be lying?
Eyeing the group, Otem tried to guess at what benefit it would be for a Riftian foal to lie about their birthplace.
"I'm Otem. She replied, nodding to Vinati with a small smile. "And this is Pandora." The owelet was not really paying attention to her introduce, and was instead hooting happily towards Devi. The owl had never seen a griffin before, but she could recognize the part of the companion that matched her own species and was intrigued.
"Coming through the Rift was pretty rough, huh?" Otem ventured, trying to break the ice. I heard some folks lost their magic, or were mutated...did that happen to any of you?"
I can hear voices, hushed tones (they're talking? About me? Über dich!) from somewhere beyond the tree I cling to, somewhere in the darkness that consumes me. My body tenses, shakes and I grasp the reality that I had made a fool of myself before an audience (Dummkopf) - I can feel my ears reaching forward to pinpoint the location of the sister who does not speak the language. I'm almost taken aback, almost forgetting that the tongue from my lips is not common, that I speak apa's language over my first - that this child of his does not know, as though she has been forgotten, as though her rite of passage into the Indomitable's offspring had been brushed aside. I lay an ear back, turning my head to the general direction of her confused voice and speak, licking my lips as the common language strains against it. "I'm surprised you don't, as a child of Volterra too. Hasn't he taught you?" Mockery hides behind my words, a rush through my veins because I am better. I may grieve for the loss of a mother I could never truly know, may feel crushed by life's difficulties, but I found a way to climb back.
I had spent too long imagining false conversation sparked between my family, whispers behind my back, too far for me to hear, teasing me for the eyes I do not have, for the mother I have lost - I can imagine that big red cloud of hate, of
schädelgesichter, with their demeaning tones aimed at me, the weakest, the vulnerable. They mock the Damned, the forgotten child, the rotten fruit dropped from a withered tree, I would hear them curse me for the sight of me, rotting and mutilated - and now the rot remains, wafting from my skin and radiating from the crown atop my head, providing some sick form of comfort as I recall the childhood I never had, the childhood that remains before me as I listen to the children surrounding me confirm their Helovian descent.
Someone addresses me, head tilted their way as they ask if I'm alright. Am I alright? Am I alright? (Nein, nein - nein) I was so far from okay, I was down on my knees crawling through glass, through the same bubbling lava that swallowed my mother, I was down on my knees before life, I was choking with every breath and my lungs were threatening collapse - I was not okay. But I smile, I stand, I'm dusting myself off because I saw what happens when you let life get the best of you, when you let it push you down into submission, into hopelessness, into selfishness and despair. It ruins you, it ruins everything. So I lie through my teeth, I stand up before the unnumbered audience and I offer a simple, quiet, "peachy."
A third, Helovia, ripples through the group, and I can feel my stomach twisting, churning as Otem, az arany gyermek, brings up the mutations, the magic, the greed of the Portal. It's hunger for all things magical, for my sight - I grind my teeth together, still unnamed to this group of Helovian children, just a strange child speaking a language none can understand. I must be an oddity to them, bewildered and flighty, but the venom lacing each word is threatening, challenging against each child because they are perfect. I do not need eyes to see it, to know that life had favoured them, had brought them gifts on golden platters, had given them the best lives in the short span they'd walked on this earth, and it makes me seethe. What had I been granted? Where was my companion to grow up beside? MY perfectly fit together family to rely on? Where was the privilege that allowed me to walk through that Portal and keep everything? I sneer at the mention of it, I let my features wrinkle subtly, let my ears draw back and body shift because I bet they had all slipped through spotless."It took my sight." I spit it at their hooves, covering the fear, the overwhelming anxiety of returning to the darkness I had escaped for a moment, a moment to breathe before it swallowed me up once again.
Rainforest Cliffs
