08-04-2017, 07:47 AM (This post was last modified: 08-06-2017, 09:17 AM by Tamlin.)
Tamlin once had big dreams. He had aspired to take over the whole world when he was a colt - the “whole world” being merely Helovia of course. He had not yet ventured outside the borders of his homeland when he proudly proclaimed his plans to Aviya. She had offered to be his queen in this future world - Tamlovia as he had jokingly called his future empire. And he had not realized what he gave up when he left her. He had been too young to see what she meant to him, too caught up in his quest to become something - to impress his father. Now he did not know where she was, if she was even alive.
He was pacing underneath the burnt branches of Uwaritace. How he knew the name of this huge tree was beyond him, but he did, and it seemed a good a place as any to be pacing. Above him the ever percent cover of clouds moved slowly, not releasing any rain as of now, but threatening to let the water fall any second. Tamlin was in the first stage of his craving for his ritual, his skin was itching and he felt immensely restless, unable to stand still for a second. His eyes seemed to have a film of red as if everywhere he looked he could see blood - the key ingredient for him to “speak to his mother”. I need my flower. his mind echoed, pushing away any other thoughts.
Since he had arrived in this hellish dimension his addiction had spiraled out of control. There were times he had felt at ease even when sober, but for the most part he had been ever hunting his next fix. It had a curious affect on him, the blue lotus; it rid him of his worries, but still it helped him care about other creatures. Sometimes, of course, it had him bursting with lust, but not always.
”I must find some blood.” Tamlin mumbled to himself. ”I need to see my mother.”
But he could not stop pacing. It was as if his body refused to do anything, but walk to and fro underneath the giant tree.
08-09-2017, 04:20 AM (This post was last modified: 08-09-2017, 04:21 AM by Zahra.)
Zahra & Ilham
It was pride that turned angels into devils
There’d been little reason to doubt Eleos’s strength, stamina, resolve. Without complaint, he had followed the tread of his golden-bellied child into the northern extremities of the rift, and thus eased her wanderlust soul for awhile.
The winged girl had grown used to the bind of her father, his new disability and the quiet hurt which seemed so natural for a bird ripped so cruelly from the sky; her heart ached for him, worried. She seldom spoke of it, but offered her staunch shoulder and flourishing feeling of empathy whenever sick thoughts unravelled suddenly, from his otherwise stoic lips. In turn, his suffering had given rise to a healthier her; a warmer, softer and better sympathetic, friend.
So too had she rekindled the relationship that she’d let decay with Ilham, the sister who remained yet strong and true through the perils of this place, and the tiny spider’s voice, as a result, seemed brighter and more consistent in her mind - like the sickness had been purged from their bond.
It’s a tree, I’m sure of it: Uwaritace… Zahra told the invisible arachnid with a giddying sense of excitement, inexplicable, but intoxicating nonetheless. Her pale were eyes fixed to the twisted limbs of the colossal skeleton, even before its true identity could be traced through the mist. Ilham hummed quietly, as she soaked in the strangely sombre setting from atop the restless swing of her older siblings velvety, ebon ear. She too knew the name of the dead mother tree, somehow, and as they came at last upon her surreal, singed form, a sort of ominous quiet fell about them both.
The tree was so large (still greater than those within the rainforest), that Zahra could scarcely even make out the curve of the charred, grey trunk. Quietly, respectfully, she touched plush lips to the scribbled black surface and held her breath; anticipation building like wildfire within her.
As her eyes peeled again, open, a streak of movement beyond a mountain of buttress roots snared their interest, and though at first she was hesitant to summon the stranger's attention - for the ambience was fittingly calm and quiet without them - the thud of each pacing stride beyond, was more than distracting.
"Are, you alright?" she called softly, venturing with sensible caution across the cold, slippery obstacle between. Through the veil of damp forelock, the young mare could just discern a dark figure, sliding again behind the tree and out of view.
A voice reached the deadbeat stallion in his madness then. It slithered in through his frantic thoughts and surprisingly it stopped him in his tracks. His body, formally intent on pacing, suddenly wanted nothing more than to stand completely still. With his back against whoever had spoken to him he stood, not moving a muscle. His gaunt body resembled an obsidian statue, although no one sound of mind would chisel something like him out of such precious material. His coat was rather shiny now with the constant rain, but he was still thinned out with sunken eyes and matted mane and tail - not the most handsome stallion around for sure. In fact, only by taking in his appearance one could deem him quite out of his mind, and by looking into his hollow eyes most would deduce that something was not right with him.
Tamlin’s head was buzzing. Part of him demanded he be nice to the stranger behind him and part of him wanted to attack without a word. Everybody bleeds. he thought, at the same time as he was reminded about the encounter with Otem and the guilt he had felt the next time he saw her. It is not right to hurt others without reason.
For a while the battle within him went on, seconds in real life, but it felt like eons for the stressed out junkie.
Tamlin angled his ears back towards the intruder. Underneath his black coat, the little muscle he had started to twitch. His right eye, the hazel one, twitched too and he started grinding his teeth. He was still not clear on what to do, but for the moment the angel on his shoulder was winning over the devil on the other. As he turned he managed to relax a bit, only a slight twitch at the eye remained, even so he was still looking rather crazy. He could not force a smile either, but met the gaze of the young mare with a blank expression and eyes weirdly lit from within by a feverish glow.
”Never better.” came his voice, raspy from lack of using.
He took in the image of her. Black and white and gold and standing almost as tall as he. She had wings, of course, it seemed like every other horse he met was a pegasus or a winged unicorn. Not that he hated other races as he had done when he was an arrogant little prince back in the World’s Edge, but winged horses remained strange to him. It was unnatural. However, he was surprised to not find a companion by this mare’s side. Most everybody he had met since he arrived here had had some sort of critter accompany them, but this mare seemed alone.
A nice horse would introduce themselves, wouldn’t they? He cleared his throat and spoke again, slightly unwillingly, the words sounded almost as if chopped off.
Like an impassable wall in her path, the bulging surface roots of the lifeless mother-tree proved bigger an obstacle to manage than first thought. Small black pools nestled in her deep, smooth valleys threw back a pristine reflection, still and calm, as she teetered overhead clumsily, with far less dexterity than she’d presumed to be necessary. In turn, with no hope of finding traction on the sleek surface to climb, Zahra was forced to turn back and skirt a still wider berth around the massive timber skeleton. Always, she made a consecutive effort to hold the stranger’s withered, ebon frame (frozen in place, the second her voice had beckoned).
As she neared, the hustle in her stride eased and a brisk, stumbling trot became a far more measured walk. It was a he who waited around that swollen girth, a horned-one - though the winged girl quickly set aside the hasty rush of disdain. There seemed to be more to the story, for as her discerning golden eye ascended the snowy blanket on his rump she found painful spires where well-padded hips ought to have been; so too were the thighs beneath hollowed and underfed, and she wondered as she studied those horrid contours, what had suffered him to appear so poorly.
It hadn’t been that long ago, that she too had looked ill, herself.
A sympathetic warmth leaked through her core and that quiet step she approached with paused to allow him room, time. Eventually, his statuesque form shuddered to life; ears first, reclining towards her, coat flinching as nerves prickled visibly to life, and then he turned (gradually, as though stuck by indecision) to meet her. Quickly, Zahra found a gentle smile to suit the moment. That friendly gesture wavered as his queer, haunting eye set upon her and she swayed on the spot, unsure whether it might be safer instead to bid him farewell and flee.
Wait… Ilham ordered, sliding down an invisible thread to find camouflaged vantage on the charred bark.
Unlike times past, the golden-bellied girl was determined to leave a better, healthier, footprint on the world - but she would need to survive this encounter, first.
His expression was unsettlingly vacant, disconcertingly so, and she trembled there beneath its rigid hold until he spoke; the sound was raspy, harsh and remarkably well suited to his impression in general. Beneath that stiff mask, the chiselled features of his face looked gaunt and unhealthy, and shadows loomed creating still a more enigmatic exterior (in her opinion), to further challenge her resolve.
Good time was spent by each party, it seemed, inspecting the other before again the dark stallion’s rough tone pierced the silence. Relief poured through her mind like the cool evening wind after a blistering summer’s day and so too did the weak smile return to her sooty, whiskered lips. "Zahra," she returned in a show of unpracticed politeness and moved to step nearer, cautiously, across the cold bridge of another root. "Are you from Helovia too?" she asked (a stupid question really, for everyone met thus far was from the finer side of the portal), breaking the ice as simply and casually as she could.
The battle went on in Tamlin’s broken mind. He was caught in a maelstrom of “dos” and “don’ts” and he could not even understand were the “don’ts” came from. Had Mauja actually raised him to be nice? He could not recall. But there was an old memory deep inside him that made him believe that his father had actually been quite peaceful. Hadn’t the great spotted stallion only wished for the unicorns to be left alone in their home? It hurt to even try to remember.
The thought of his father made Tamlin glum. What would he have to show if he ever met Mauja again? He had amounted to nothing in his life, he was just a deadbeat failure unworthy of any respect. So what did it matter if he tried to stab this winged mare? Remember Otem. his mind beckoned. Remember the guilt, you are better than this. Tamlin snoretd. Better? Nothing mattered anymore; he had no family, no friends and he lived his life fix to fix, why keep on? Still, it seemed his body would not let him take his own life – he had tried that. Failed that too.
Zahra. Helovia.
Tamlin glowered at the gold marked mare from under his tangled forelock. He had not seen any movement from her hidden companion so he still thought they were alone among the thick roots.
”Am I from Helovia…?” he said, pausing on every word. ”Once. But I have been wandering elsewhere for longer. You see, your kind helped the hornless to drive me from my home - not that I blame you personally, you were probably not even born. Ever since then I-” Tamlin forced his lips close. He suspected that if he did not stop now he would open the flood gates and he had no reason to spill his guts to this young mare or to anyone else.
Normally he would not let his mind even touch on these issues and the constant struggle to not remember was what made him into such a Grinch while sober. But the connections he had made since he got to the Rift, however fleeting, had started a spark of hope in him. He would never admit it to himself of course, but he was starting to think that maybe it was possible for him to find a family – if he was really, really lucky he might even find some blood relatives.
Tamlin had been distracted from his itching body for a moment, but now the sensation returned even stronger. He bowed his neck and started scratching his chest, gnawing and biting ferociously. He was wet with sweat around the ears now and the craving only got worse with every minute that passed.
The stallion’s words were unexpected, candid, accusatory and hurtful (even if the undertone were laced with something more sombre and sorrowful), yet as they squeezed the oversensitive throb of her already conflicted heart, it was a feeling still more startling that moved words to tempt pressed lips.
It seemed they both clung to a similar kind of grievance - injustice done by the predecessors of each other; both wrestled a painful life that they’d neither asked for, deserved, nor held any real want to further. Zahra felt she could see the dullness in his bland, distant expression and it struck a chord somewhere deep inside her - perhaps the daughter of the benevolent Starry-Eyed grey held more in her soul than just hatred and melancholy.
Could it have been that her obsession with herself and all of the injustices there dwelled upon, were her very own undoing, all along?
"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, humbled, when the wretched note of his voice began to trail, and she lifted her pastel eyes in an attempt to lure in the clandestine gaze beneath that concealing swarthy veil of forelock (to portray visually her remorse), "…that your family, you, were hurt by my… by those like me." Though guilt rippled through her mind, the watching girl recognised that she didn’t have to walk in the steps of those feathered, before her; she didn’t need to wear the grudge of her mother or hate the horned for the felonies done to her father.
Memory of Ashamin sprang suddenly to the forefront of her mind and Zahra smiled for the sake of his kindness and hospitality - even if the Basin had not wholeheartedly welcomed her involvement the same way.
She tried to smile, to sooth his reluctance with warmth from her own empathetic fire. "I was hurt too, a long time ago. It doesn’t feel great." Zahra tried to separate the ache of that truth - of the stinging memories stirred back to life - from the situation she found herself in now and for a moment she felt a little empowered, brave enough to perhaps turn over a new leaf - figuratively speaking. "But… I don’t think you are like them. And I don’t want to be angry and bitter," she professed boldly, tempting whatever reaction he felt was justified. Healing couldn’t begin without first addressing trauma. "I don’t want you to be angry and bitter either…"
With soft eyes, she observed the sharp bend of his long neck and the shift of the matted, unkempt mane as it slumped down to fit the new, inelegant angle. Strolling slowly down the length of his gaunt face, she arrived at the point where his maw jolted savagely, teeth ravaging the irritated skin of his breast. Maybe if there was a wound their festering in the unfriendly, humid air she could treat it, relieve him, but for a moment longer, she held her tongue, uncertain.
Tamlin stopped scratching and slowly returned his mismatched gaze to the winged mare. He stared at her with vacant eyes, but for a short moment something flashed deep inside them - a piece of his soul shone through and all the sorrow and heartache and guilt was there for the world to see. There was even a split second of gratitude towards Zahra for understanding, but then the glow dimmed and Tamlin’s eyes turned black and dismissive. She had touched him too deeply, called him out on issues to hard for him to even think about.
Look at her! The light voice called within him, much quieter now. She has suffered as you and look how she handles it; she takes responsibility for her own life and actions. You should do the same. Don’t hide behind your addiction, Tamlin! But this time the speckled stallion did not listen. This time the voice only made him angry.
He snorted loudly and his muzzle wrinkled in protest to both Zahra’s words and his own thoughts. His ears tipped backwards as he rolled his eyes and flashed his teeth at the pegasus. The darkness was taking over now and the last of his sanity was slipping away. Not that he knew where his sanity really lay these days. He was most certainly more pleasant to be around while high, but then he was in complete denial of his trauma and could not be considered sane.
Tamlin was beginning to feel trapped. Panic pulsed suddenly from his heart and the only thought remaining in his head was that he would not survive if he could not get hold of a lotus. She bleeds if stuck right… the dark voice mused.
Before Tamlin arrived in this dreadful dimension with his broken mind he had gone months sober without problem. His drug of choice was after all not a particularly heavy one in comparison to others, but his addiction had reached new heights ever since he stepped through the portal (which he did not remember). Maybe somehow the flowers he grew here were more potent? This was after all the strangest land he had ever experienced.
”Zahra.” Tamlin mumbled, making her name sound more like a question.
He stepped closer, eyes wandering over her body with a hunger in his eyes that could be interpreted in several ways. But it was her blood he wanted…
ooc; He is pulling two ways now... Either he can spot a dead animal, grow a lotus and become quite pleasant or he could attack her. What would you prefer? Maybe it will be clear after your post, but now I (he) can't decide. x3
he reaps in blood
- Every kind of violence may be used against Tamlin at all times -
Uwaritace
he reaps in blood
