Rainforest Cliffs
Van
07-21-2017, 10:51 PM
The night sings, and so do I. I move through the jungle, happy that as the rain falls, it helps quell the incessant humming that slip from the undersides of my hooves. Darkness has fallen and I have found my stride, breaking free from anyone who might attempt to dissuade me.
I cannot be disrupted.
”Hush little fillies, stop your cries,” I sing out softly through the trees, “She’ll sweeten your dreams with her lullabies.” My body sways as I serenade the nothingness, trying to call them in. “Darling colts, with your skinned knees, in the darkness of night she hears your pleas.”
She was Calla, the Mother of Dreams. She slips in from the night, knowing where to find terrified and struggling foals. She saves them from their haunts, combats their nightmares, leads them to dawn unscathed. She is a hero in the night. She is the savior the orphaned pray for. She slips in. She steals them away. She ends their suffering.
She lays out the remainders of their bodies beneath the moonlit sky one last time, protecting their lasting debris for a single evening before allowing the vultures to collect their dues.
I am Calla. Calla is me. I have not assumed the role in a while, mostly due to lack of children, but this opportunity has presented itself with a bow tied around it. The first child I trampled was the progeny of a brutish stallion who decided I was his to take, and the look in his eyes as I trampled his colt did nothing but reaffirm the fact that the death of a child was a torture none should suffer from. Unless, of course, they deserved it. I always made it quick, because the parents’ punishment should not be drawn out as punishment for the child. No, the child was better off believing it was being whisked away, heading towards salvation, towards, beautiful dreams, towards paradise.
But now, now it is time to avenge my gods. It is time to show those gentle Helovians that killing gods would result in more than a few meaningless deaths within their homeland before being dumped here. They needed to suffer as we had. They needed to pay the ultimate price.
It was a shame that they had dealt this hand for their children.
“Beneath the moon and it’s pale gleam, she will save you from that awful dream.” My voice is cast out to carry easily through the trees. I will not don my ghostly physique. Not now. I wasn’t sure when, or even if, I would happen upon a wayward child, because I didn’t want my form to break right as I was getting to the good part. I had a plan for when that happened, but for right now, this form would have to do.
“Just stay close, she’ll take you away,” my voice is sweet, gentle, calming, calling those who hear it forward. I will tell them of their queen, who will save them from the awful fates their parents have set upon them. I slowly come to a stop within the smallest grove hidden by a copse of trees. I croon out the final line, reeling in, seeing what I may have captured within my net.
“I promise she’ll keep the nightmares at bay.”
@Van ~
I cannot be disrupted.
”Hush little fillies, stop your cries,” I sing out softly through the trees, “She’ll sweeten your dreams with her lullabies.” My body sways as I serenade the nothingness, trying to call them in. “Darling colts, with your skinned knees, in the darkness of night she hears your pleas.”
She was Calla, the Mother of Dreams. She slips in from the night, knowing where to find terrified and struggling foals. She saves them from their haunts, combats their nightmares, leads them to dawn unscathed. She is a hero in the night. She is the savior the orphaned pray for. She slips in. She steals them away. She ends their suffering.
She lays out the remainders of their bodies beneath the moonlit sky one last time, protecting their lasting debris for a single evening before allowing the vultures to collect their dues.
I am Calla. Calla is me. I have not assumed the role in a while, mostly due to lack of children, but this opportunity has presented itself with a bow tied around it. The first child I trampled was the progeny of a brutish stallion who decided I was his to take, and the look in his eyes as I trampled his colt did nothing but reaffirm the fact that the death of a child was a torture none should suffer from. Unless, of course, they deserved it. I always made it quick, because the parents’ punishment should not be drawn out as punishment for the child. No, the child was better off believing it was being whisked away, heading towards salvation, towards, beautiful dreams, towards paradise.
But now, now it is time to avenge my gods. It is time to show those gentle Helovians that killing gods would result in more than a few meaningless deaths within their homeland before being dumped here. They needed to suffer as we had. They needed to pay the ultimate price.
It was a shame that they had dealt this hand for their children.
“Beneath the moon and it’s pale gleam, she will save you from that awful dream.” My voice is cast out to carry easily through the trees. I will not don my ghostly physique. Not now. I wasn’t sure when, or even if, I would happen upon a wayward child, because I didn’t want my form to break right as I was getting to the good part. I had a plan for when that happened, but for right now, this form would have to do.
“Just stay close, she’ll take you away,” my voice is sweet, gentle, calming, calling those who hear it forward. I will tell them of their queen, who will save them from the awful fates their parents have set upon them. I slowly come to a stop within the smallest grove hidden by a copse of trees. I croon out the final line, reeling in, seeing what I may have captured within my net.
“I promise she’ll keep the nightmares at bay.”
@Van ~
