Ingrid's hoof falls echoed through the city. Staring at the buildings, she wondered what they looked like in the past. They were probably once white like snow, or daisy petals, or moonlight. She pinned her ears back, shuddering at the thought.
It's been months, Ingrid. Get over it already, she told herself.
She'd never know what the city was like before the rift swallowed it. This dimension had chewed it up the way a fat chipmunk eats a saltine cracker. Now the buildings were crumbling, and white like ghosts.
"Fucking creepy as shit," she spat, her hooves still loudly clip-clopping on the stone street.
"Fucking creepy as shit," the city's echo answered.
I want a beer, she thought, just as she passed a building with a large archway. The door had shattered and crumbled, allowing even tall horses entry. She stepped inside, avoiding glass, and did her best not to slip on the dusty floor. Most of the windows were intact, and the light that filtered through them illuminated piles of rubble that were scattered about. There was an alter at the end of the long hallway, surrounded by debris.
This is a chapel, she realized, a place of worship.
She shook her head. It couldn't be allowed to stay like this. She grabbed a small chunk of rock between her teeth, and threw it outside the door. Then she went for another. She'd clean this place, even if it took her years to do it.
Open to all! Come talk to Ingrid, and perhaps help her clean the old chapel. The more, the merrier!
01-22-2018, 11:27 PM (This post was last modified: 01-22-2018, 11:28 PM by Raistlyn.)
After so many years lost in another realm, he was home.
And yet, Raistlyn was as much of a stranger to this war-tarn Rift as the new residents from other far away places.The Rift was different than he remembered. The shadows were longer, deeper than before. A coldness lingered in their depths, that brought with it a freezing numbness of loss. He had endured much loss. He had found no one he had once known.
They were gone.
His brothers and sisters of his order…his whole life. His Priestess.
It was because of her that he was here, wandering like a ghost among the wild and overgrown gardens of the decaying white city. Black and blue roses in various shades of the night sky spiraled around the pale marble walls and once elegant archways. Vines with poisonous thorns ran like veins through the crumbling ruins. Even then, before he had been pulled into Helovia, before the death of the Rift gods, when the Priestesses of the mountains resided within these walls, he recalled the city in state of steady decay and ruin. But it had been well-tended, the gardens lush and the streams crystal clear. The white stones had flashed in the sunlight and glowed by moonlight. His memories of this place hadn’t faded, and it was here that he remembered her best.
He stopped in the middle of a relatively intact bridge. A small pool of muddy water rippled beneath him, old leaves littering the murky surface instead of the lily-pads and bright fish he remembered. It was here that he had asked her to go away with him, start a life of their own. Away from his responsibilities as a ranger, away from her role as a priestess.
Of course, they had been young and foolish and their loyalty to their orders won out over love. It did not keep him from wondering what might have been.
Now he would never know.
He left the bridge behind, wishing his memories would drown along with the moldy leaves in the pool of reflections. His hooves made a hollow ringing noise that echoed against the solemn stone walls, and he wondered if a single soul had been here in years.
A voice on the wind soon proved him wrong.
She was in the white spire, shuffling about muttering to herself and tossing rocks out the door. He ducked, narrowly avoiding what he thought for certain would have been a cracked skull. What was she doing here? Did she have some affiliation with the city ruins, was she a priestess? She was tall, elegant, legs splashed with white. No horns, no wings, nothing odd about her, so he was inclined to believe she was not native. No, no…of course she wasn’t a priestess. They were long gone.
“It wasn’t always creepy, you know.” He stepped through the door way, standing next to her, lifting his head to admire the windows, despite their shattered state. “It was a sacred place, once.”
A place where he had loved a Priestess and she had loved him back.
these scars long have yearned for your tender caress
to bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.
Pandora, the melanistic owl, had been scouting ahead of Otem. The mare had decided that, since the 'herd' she was trying to assemble was using Halyven as their meeting place, that she should come back and visit here every so often, in case there were messages or items that had been left. So far she'd found nothing, and so she and Pandora had merely been acquainting themselves with the area. Hearing voices ahead, the pair had decided to move towards them, which was when the owl picked up the last snippet of what the unicorn stallion had said.
...it was a sacred place, once..
Curiosity stoked now by this indication that whoever the speaker was had been here long before she had, Otem picked up a swift trot which brought her to entrance of the once-temple.
"How do you know that?" She asked immediately, her words slightly breathy as she pulled in air and slowed herself to a half. The soil and sap coloured mare looked from mare to stallion, feeling awkward immediately that she was both taller than they were, and from the looks of it younger as well. Always self-conscious about her height, Otem folded her wings tightly against her flanks and allowed her shoulders to drop slightly, as if that would help to disguise the length of her frame.
Otem hadn't bothered with social pleasantries, such as offering a hello, or giving her name. She was far too enthralled with the wealth of knowledge the unicorn might have to bother with such silly norms and customs. What did it matter what her name was, when he knew things about this place?
otem
I'm a cold day in august, I'm a stream too shallow.
I'm a heart-shaped box with no letter inside.
“It wasn't always this creepy, you know.”
Ingrid turned slowly to find a dark coated unicorn behind her. His mane was long and tousled, and he looked somewhat older than she was. ”It was a sacred place, once,” he added.
So it was sacred, but no longer. Like everything else, huh? Ingrid thought. The Moon was sacred once. The Veins were sacred once. Even sneezing was sacred once, Mr. Unicorn. Bless you.
She wasn’t about to let anything else sacred fade if she could help it. Maybe he would agree. Before she could respond, a brown mare appeared behind him.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
Ingrid spat out the rock she was holding in surprise, and it landed somewhere by the unicorn’s hooves. Whatever. Speaking with pebbles in her mouth wouldn’t help her make a great first impression anyway.
She examined the mare, who looked young and sure of herself. Then she turned to the unicorn again. “I’m more curious about why was it forgotten.” she said finally. “When it was used, what gods were worshiped here? Did Kaos explode them, too?” She picked up another pebble and placed it outside the door.
“This place looks like crap. No holy place deserves to be left in such disarray,” she added, pawing at the ground.
“I mean it. The girl too. I know what she means to you.” He speaks before he realizes the weight of his words, the magnitude of what he was suggesting. What kind of a father would he be?
She laughs again, but less freely. “Be serious."
He snorts. “I am serious.”
A sigh. “We are not meant for such ordinary, mundane lives.”
She’s right.
He can’t ever imagine being a father to a strange orphan girl, a princess of the Woods, and husband to a perilous Mountain priestess.
His duty is to the Path and the Path alone.
---
A seal brown colored pegasus with hair the color of auburn leaves peered in the entrance, head lowered through the arch way. Her wings were elegant and dark, tucked neatly at her side. Her size was impressive, but her face betrayed her. Young, he thought. Her posture was not proud but that of an awkward wilting flower, afraid to face the sun. Raistlyn decided one day she would probably risk it and turn to embrace the sun, and then she would be magnificent. But she was young yet.
“I know because I was here in the time before…everything else.” The pale marble walls covered in vines, the scent of blue roses frosted in starlight and midnight dew. It brought him to a different time, when life was simpler. When life was better. Before the Portal to Helovia, before the loss of everyone he had ever cared about.
Their curiosity made him consider that they may be Helovians, also hurting with loss, seeking out obscure faraway places in the hopes of finding a familiar face. He glanced at the mare with ruby eyes and pearl hair. “A noble Order resided here, Priestesses of the mountains. They worshipped a Wild God, a god without a name.” Bitterness lingered on his tongue. A treacherous god, as all all were. He shared no love for them.
The pebble she tossed from her lips made a hollow sound as it skittered across the cracked marble tiles. “One night the god was angered. His promised Bride had been stolen…”
Raistlyn failed to mention that he had been the thief who snatched the young foretold bride, Ultima, away-- the child he had once thought to adopt with his priestess, thinking he was saving her from a horrible fate. If Raistlyn had only known what chaos he would unleash upon this place and all those who resided here...
He recalled the great storm, the surge of wrath from the vengeful god, the mountain crumbling, the flash of green light. Ultima disappeared into the portal and he had followed.
He regretted it to this day.
“I don’t know what happened after that night. I woke trapped in a new Realm.” What would they think of this grand tale he spun for them? Perhaps they would think he had made it up, and that would be fine. It did sound something of a fairy tale. If only it had had a happy ending. "That was many years ago now." He nodded in agreement with the equine mare. “I suppose a new order will take it up one day. Perhaps then it will be beautiful again.”
these scars long have yearned for your tender caress
to bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.
Otem listened with awestruck and open wonder careening across her features. The cadence of the unicorn's voice brought her delicately to another place and time, and his words wove images before her eyes. A wild god. The thought sent shivers down her spine. One might think that she, the grand daughter of a god would not be impressed with any deity, but that wasn't so. Or at least, it wasn't so in the Rift. This place seemed to hold magic far more impressive and powerful than the gods of Helovia had ever been. They, the four of them, had ultimately failed hadn't they? They'd died, and Kaos and the Rift had been all that remained.
"A new order.." Otem mimed, more whispering the words to herself as if trying them on for size. As the red-eyed mare spoke, Otem's gaze immediately snapped towards her as if some spell had been broken. Perhaps it was the harshness of the mare's choice of words. It was true that the place looked like crap, but hearing the words grated on something inside of Otem in a way that made her upper lip curl for just a second. "You aren't wrong.." The soil and sap coloured girl admits, glancing around at the rubble and ruin
"Do you think anyone would mind if it was cleaned up?" Otem asks, glancing towards Raistlyn. After all, if it had been destroyed in anger, perhaps the god would rather see it remain so. "A group of us have decided to meet here every half moon. Like a herd I suppose, but we aren't quite that structured yet. We chose Halyven since it's so recognizable and near the portal. Does the god's anger still remain? I doubt we'll stay here permanently, but for the time being..?" Her voice trailed off, rising at the end to indicate that she'd be inclined to hear the stallion's thoughts on the matter.
otem
I'm a cold day in august, I'm a stream too shallow.
I'm a heart-shaped box with no letter inside.
Ingrid stood quietly while the unicorn spoke of the Wild God. He didn't say much, but he paused frequently to let each each phrase linger in the air. A poet, she mused. She wasn't sure what to make of him yet, but he was entertaining. She waited for him to finish before firing off a sarcastic comment. "Waking up trapped in a new realm? I wonder what that’s like..." she said bitterly. “That really does sound dreadful, though. And strange, too. Thank you for telling us.”
Ingrid noticed the brown mare had been looking at her, but the tribrid quickly turned back to the unicorn to ask if the god would mind the place being cleaned. Oops. Too late, that ship has sailed. Ingrid almost snorted in laughter. Then the mare continued, "A group of us have decided to meet here every half moon." Ingrid's ears flicked back for a moment.
Hey lady, could I get a definition for "us" please? You wanna use it in a sentence? Us equids in The Rift? Us Helovians? (She had to be, because a "herd" with "structure" was kind of a Helovian thing.) Us as in those of us privileged enough to get invited to your bi-monthly book club?
Ingrid’s expression softened. She missed the company of her herd, and finding out that a new one was getting started without her knowing was bound to hurt a little. But she didn’t even know this mare, and Ingrid had been living in the middle of nowhere for a while now. It was good to hear that somebody was at least trying to take initiative and start a herd. The way the mare talked about the group implied that each move they made was carefully planned. Ingrid liked their odds.
Alright. I should probably try not to piss her off. I can do that… Maybe I just won’t talk.
I'm so sorry for the late post! I've been sick recently, and I had to miss a lot of school. Posting ended up near the bottom of my to-do list.
Halyven
Anyone can jump in at any time!
