11-16-2017, 12:24 AM
<center><div style="width:500px;background:#42425b;padding-bottom:10px;padding-top:3px;border-radius:50px;"><img src="http://38.media.tumblr.com/1cb7c100466f94ed4604add831f0c619/tumblr_n05abcLpo51sxtsggo1_r3_500.gif" width="496" style="border-radius:50px 50px 0px 0px;"><div style="position:relative;width:600px;height:50px;bottom:50px;margin-bottom:-50px;background-image:-moz-linear-gradient(top, rgb(183,197,214) 0%, rgb(183,197,214) 100%);background-image:-webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, color-stop(0%, rgb(183,197,214)), color-stop(100%, rgb(183,197,214))));background-image:-ms-linear-gradient(top, rgb(183,197,214) 0%, rgb(183,197,214) 100%);"></div>
<div style="position: relative;top: 5px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 18px;"> <link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>lady, runnin' away to the riptide</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: 0px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 21px;"> <link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>taken away to the dark side</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: 10px;width:450px;font:14px times;color:#85848b;text-align:justify;padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:0px;">
<p> A sense of failure haunts her, shadowing every footstep. She is alone again, the loneliness such a constant companion that she has almost forgotten what it is like to have a home and family. In the past, several times, she has had both. But it has never lasted, and she is more than convinced it is entirely her fault. She might have forgotten entirely, if not for the nightmares. It is those dark dreams that have sent Sloene from the cozy copse of trees she had found to shelter beneath for the night, sent her fleeing across the countryside in the dark. She has been quite restless now for days, moving further and further into unfamiliar territory, but tonight the unease moves her from an energy-conserving long walk to a headlong gallop, reckless in a way she has never been, nimble hooves carrying her across rock and grass and loam and hill until she stumbles in the deep sand of the unfamiliar beach, nearly coming to her knees.
The grulla mare realizes she is exhausted, sweat-soaked, and lowers her head to take in deep breaths of the cool night air, but it feels heavy in her lungs and does not refresh the way it should. Still, the feeling of urgency and unease has passed and with it her urge to gallop headlong away from her own thoughts, and so the little mare picks her way to the edge of the water and lowers her nose, only to wrinkle her lip in disgust and pull away. It's salt, of course it is, and no good for drinking. Heaving a sigh, she lifts silver eyes to the horizon and starts to turn back towards the trees, where surely fresh water can be found, when a cool wind across her sweaty hide makes her pause, look towards the water.
The storm clouds that have roiled up, obscuring the stars and the moon, prompt a different type of shiver, and she begins to back away from the rising waves, when they appear. It is her mother first, very different from the only memory Sloene has of her (and since she died in childbirth, that image of her bloody and lifeless is embedded in Sloene's head, no matter what else she may forget). The stallion beside mother in the waves is not familiar but he rides a wave so close to mother, and she can see her own reflection in his face - it must be her father. Their mouths are open as if to shout something, but they vanish as their waves crash upon the shore and the words are never heard.
Then it is her childhood family - Nera and Branka, her surrogate mothers, and the dozens of rainbow-colored Carnage foals Sloene had been raised amongst. All of them crest on the storm-born waves, screaming things Sloene does not understand, and then vanish as they crash onto the sand. Innumerable and untouchable. Krieos is amongst them and she cries out for him, but the wind steals the name of her brief fling from her lips. But the worst is yet to come and she sees them in the distance, two dark shapes forming behind the herd of galaxy children - <b> "Ara!"</b> she chokes on the name of her first real friend, tears springing to her eyes, and it is enough to prompt her to leap into the waves, struggling to keep her footing as they pull in and out beneath her hooves. She wants, no, <i>needs</i> to know what Aranea would say before she crashes to the sand, and Magnus beside her.
Something in the way it is happening tells Sloene - they're dead. All dead. She can only hope it is a dream but she does not feel dreamlike, it feels so real the loss rising and overwhelming and she calls to Ara and Magnus again, diving forward. 'Run' they say, and 'Go!' but it is too late. Sloene loses her footed and falls, head going under the waves, and everything goes dark.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When she wakes, it is because everything hurts, she is hot, and she is thirsty. With a totally audible groan, the girl forces her eyes to open and rolls up to her tummy, bringing her legs underneath her, and takes a good look around. A sudden flurry of motion draws her attention with a start and she takes in the sight of a colt, quite young, nearly bouncing out of his startlingly jet-black coat. <i> "Hey! Hey, you're awake! Finally! SHE'S AWAKE,"</i> he raises his voice to no one that Sloene can see and spins in a little circle before meeting her silent, open-mouth stared with eyes that are purple. <i> "How ya feeling, Silver?"</i>
She opens her ridiculously dry mouth and forces words to emerge, though she is almost too hoarse to understand. <b> "My name is Sloene,"</b> she corrects him, <b> "Where are we? Did you get caught in the storm as well?"</b>
The colt eyes her for a moment, strangely, shifting to look back at the tree line at the edge of the shore where the mare is surprised to see an entire band of shiny jet-black horses emerging. Old, young, tall, short, wide; but they are all the same. <i> "Ah well you maybe Sloene now but they'll call you Silver anyway on account of, well, you know. You might as well get used to it,"</i> he smiles at her. <i> "My name is Purple now, and it's fine."</i>
<b> "On account of what?"</b> she asks, irritated, and he just looks at her, eyes sliding all across, and then meets her gaze again, looking for all the world like he's sure she's stupid.
<i> "On account of we all look just alike, except the eyes."</i>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
And sure enough, time proves him right very quickly when she finds she herself is no longer a mousey gray and black, but ebony like him, and meets the others. Scarlet, Pink, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Indigo, Black, White, and now Sloene adds her strange silver eyes to the mix. Most of them claim not to remember their names before they awoke here, and none of them will tell her if they do remember.
Except one.
The stallion with the Indigo eyes tells her one day while they are exploring underneath the citrus trees that line the shore that his name is really Thomas, and that he, too, arrived after an event that should have killed him. Not like the others, who claim to have simply fallen asleep peacefully and woken here.
Sloene doesn't know if she believes them. Thomas doesn't. But there is little they can do, for the others simply refuse to discuss anything considered taboo. Any time she attempts to draw them into a conversation, they simply walk away as if she is not there, unless she will change the subject. And they will not explore beyond the shore, the citrus trees, and the grass that lines the ground beneath. <i> Why? </i> says Green the day she asks about exploring. <i>We are safe and happy here.</i>
And they are - safe and happy. Content to work and live and play here, in seclusion. Everyone except Sloene and Thomas, who chafe at the restrictions. They talk every day of their lives before the Shore, of the things they remember, of their real names and their memories. But they don't venture beyond the Shore, not yet. They make plans, but slowly Sloene comes to love all of her new family. Green, the biggest and boldest stallion, and Pink the little mare who is his wisdom and his constant shadow; the two lead their little band and though they are usually kind, neither tolerates when Sloene and Thomas attempt to buck the rules of the Shore.
White, the oldest, and she is quite blind but finds the ripest and tastiest fruits in the low-hanging branches. Scarlet and Orange are young mares, nearly inseparable, and restless without every mentioning leaving; she trains with them in running and fighting and they play hard, always with Thomas joining them. Black is a stallion, the bulkiest, and she avoids him. Sloene feels sick in his very presence, and his black eyes scare her. Yellow is a filly, shy and careful, with an imagination to rival any story Sloene has ever heard. Red is a pony, even smaller than Sloene, feisty but she never speaks. Lastly Blue is the one on the verge; she seems at moments to be almost ready to join Sloene and Thomas in rebellion but always at the last minute she changes her mind - but she never gives them away.
Time passes and they do not leave, because despite their flaws Sloene has grown to love their family. Thomas is unsure, reticent to grow attached, but he will not leave her behind to set out alone, even when their escape is fully planned and just waiting. Sloene promises him as soon as they convince Blue to come, it will be time to leave.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Until the morning he is gone.
They settled together, as is their custom, on a soft bed of leaves and dried grass, Sloene tucked into Thomas' side and Blue curled up just touching her on their other side. Today as the world coming awake around them brightens, she blinks sleepily to find him gone, but makes no real note of it as she nudges Blue gently to wakefulness. They seek morning drinks, absolving their thirst, and amble through a peaceful breakfast before the unease claws it's way into Sloene's heart and throat, sending her pulse racing and she begins to look, Blue faithfully at her heels.
She does not give up as having scoured every inch of Shore until the noon sun shines hot and heavy on them and they have asked every single member of the family - twice - if they have seen Thomas. Indigo. The search expands to include everyone, but when they gather at dusk it is to admit defeat. <b> "We have to go find him!"</b> she demands it, whirling on Green and Pink where they stand, nestled together as always. <b> "He can't be out there alone!"</b>
<i> "He should not be out there at all,"</i> Green's voice is stern, his face marred by a heavy frown, but Pink's nose touching his shoulder softly forestalls any more words.
<i> "I agree. They boy's always been a troublemaker, and with Silver it was worse. We should just let him be gone,"</i> the oily voice is Black, snide and callous. Sloene spins again, ears pinned, to retort; but Scarlet and Orange have already driven him back a step, Orange doing the real threatening while Scarlet speaks.
<i> "We cannot abandon a family member like this - we must go after him."</i> She is backed up by Orange, and by Blue pressed close to Sloene's heels. Yellow is silent, shy at the edge of the group. Red shrugs indicating a complete lack of opinion.
<i> "He made his choice-"</i> Green's impatient words are cut off by a single snort, and all eyes turn to White, who steps into the center and looks deep into Sloene's eyes for several tense moments before she speaks.
<i> "We shall all go."</i> the frail old mare intones, and somehow that is the end of it. In no time at all, they are poised to step beyond the citrus grove, following the trail Yellow has found where Thomas departed.
</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: 10px;font-family: 'Cinzel Decorative', cursive;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 40px;"><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel+Decorative:900' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>SL<font color=86abe5>O</font>ENE</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: -5px;padding-left: 185px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 14px;"><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>I've got a lump in my throat</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: -10px;padding-left: 50px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 16px;"><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>cause you're gonna sing the words wrong</div></div></center>
<div style="position: relative;top: 5px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 18px;"> <link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>lady, runnin' away to the riptide</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: 0px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 21px;"> <link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>taken away to the dark side</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: 10px;width:450px;font:14px times;color:#85848b;text-align:justify;padding-bottom:0px;padding-top:0px;">
<p> A sense of failure haunts her, shadowing every footstep. She is alone again, the loneliness such a constant companion that she has almost forgotten what it is like to have a home and family. In the past, several times, she has had both. But it has never lasted, and she is more than convinced it is entirely her fault. She might have forgotten entirely, if not for the nightmares. It is those dark dreams that have sent Sloene from the cozy copse of trees she had found to shelter beneath for the night, sent her fleeing across the countryside in the dark. She has been quite restless now for days, moving further and further into unfamiliar territory, but tonight the unease moves her from an energy-conserving long walk to a headlong gallop, reckless in a way she has never been, nimble hooves carrying her across rock and grass and loam and hill until she stumbles in the deep sand of the unfamiliar beach, nearly coming to her knees.
The grulla mare realizes she is exhausted, sweat-soaked, and lowers her head to take in deep breaths of the cool night air, but it feels heavy in her lungs and does not refresh the way it should. Still, the feeling of urgency and unease has passed and with it her urge to gallop headlong away from her own thoughts, and so the little mare picks her way to the edge of the water and lowers her nose, only to wrinkle her lip in disgust and pull away. It's salt, of course it is, and no good for drinking. Heaving a sigh, she lifts silver eyes to the horizon and starts to turn back towards the trees, where surely fresh water can be found, when a cool wind across her sweaty hide makes her pause, look towards the water.
The storm clouds that have roiled up, obscuring the stars and the moon, prompt a different type of shiver, and she begins to back away from the rising waves, when they appear. It is her mother first, very different from the only memory Sloene has of her (and since she died in childbirth, that image of her bloody and lifeless is embedded in Sloene's head, no matter what else she may forget). The stallion beside mother in the waves is not familiar but he rides a wave so close to mother, and she can see her own reflection in his face - it must be her father. Their mouths are open as if to shout something, but they vanish as their waves crash upon the shore and the words are never heard.
Then it is her childhood family - Nera and Branka, her surrogate mothers, and the dozens of rainbow-colored Carnage foals Sloene had been raised amongst. All of them crest on the storm-born waves, screaming things Sloene does not understand, and then vanish as they crash onto the sand. Innumerable and untouchable. Krieos is amongst them and she cries out for him, but the wind steals the name of her brief fling from her lips. But the worst is yet to come and she sees them in the distance, two dark shapes forming behind the herd of galaxy children - <b> "Ara!"</b> she chokes on the name of her first real friend, tears springing to her eyes, and it is enough to prompt her to leap into the waves, struggling to keep her footing as they pull in and out beneath her hooves. She wants, no, <i>needs</i> to know what Aranea would say before she crashes to the sand, and Magnus beside her.
Something in the way it is happening tells Sloene - they're dead. All dead. She can only hope it is a dream but she does not feel dreamlike, it feels so real the loss rising and overwhelming and she calls to Ara and Magnus again, diving forward. 'Run' they say, and 'Go!' but it is too late. Sloene loses her footed and falls, head going under the waves, and everything goes dark.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When she wakes, it is because everything hurts, she is hot, and she is thirsty. With a totally audible groan, the girl forces her eyes to open and rolls up to her tummy, bringing her legs underneath her, and takes a good look around. A sudden flurry of motion draws her attention with a start and she takes in the sight of a colt, quite young, nearly bouncing out of his startlingly jet-black coat. <i> "Hey! Hey, you're awake! Finally! SHE'S AWAKE,"</i> he raises his voice to no one that Sloene can see and spins in a little circle before meeting her silent, open-mouth stared with eyes that are purple. <i> "How ya feeling, Silver?"</i>
She opens her ridiculously dry mouth and forces words to emerge, though she is almost too hoarse to understand. <b> "My name is Sloene,"</b> she corrects him, <b> "Where are we? Did you get caught in the storm as well?"</b>
The colt eyes her for a moment, strangely, shifting to look back at the tree line at the edge of the shore where the mare is surprised to see an entire band of shiny jet-black horses emerging. Old, young, tall, short, wide; but they are all the same. <i> "Ah well you maybe Sloene now but they'll call you Silver anyway on account of, well, you know. You might as well get used to it,"</i> he smiles at her. <i> "My name is Purple now, and it's fine."</i>
<b> "On account of what?"</b> she asks, irritated, and he just looks at her, eyes sliding all across, and then meets her gaze again, looking for all the world like he's sure she's stupid.
<i> "On account of we all look just alike, except the eyes."</i>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
And sure enough, time proves him right very quickly when she finds she herself is no longer a mousey gray and black, but ebony like him, and meets the others. Scarlet, Pink, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Indigo, Black, White, and now Sloene adds her strange silver eyes to the mix. Most of them claim not to remember their names before they awoke here, and none of them will tell her if they do remember.
Except one.
The stallion with the Indigo eyes tells her one day while they are exploring underneath the citrus trees that line the shore that his name is really Thomas, and that he, too, arrived after an event that should have killed him. Not like the others, who claim to have simply fallen asleep peacefully and woken here.
Sloene doesn't know if she believes them. Thomas doesn't. But there is little they can do, for the others simply refuse to discuss anything considered taboo. Any time she attempts to draw them into a conversation, they simply walk away as if she is not there, unless she will change the subject. And they will not explore beyond the shore, the citrus trees, and the grass that lines the ground beneath. <i> Why? </i> says Green the day she asks about exploring. <i>We are safe and happy here.</i>
And they are - safe and happy. Content to work and live and play here, in seclusion. Everyone except Sloene and Thomas, who chafe at the restrictions. They talk every day of their lives before the Shore, of the things they remember, of their real names and their memories. But they don't venture beyond the Shore, not yet. They make plans, but slowly Sloene comes to love all of her new family. Green, the biggest and boldest stallion, and Pink the little mare who is his wisdom and his constant shadow; the two lead their little band and though they are usually kind, neither tolerates when Sloene and Thomas attempt to buck the rules of the Shore.
White, the oldest, and she is quite blind but finds the ripest and tastiest fruits in the low-hanging branches. Scarlet and Orange are young mares, nearly inseparable, and restless without every mentioning leaving; she trains with them in running and fighting and they play hard, always with Thomas joining them. Black is a stallion, the bulkiest, and she avoids him. Sloene feels sick in his very presence, and his black eyes scare her. Yellow is a filly, shy and careful, with an imagination to rival any story Sloene has ever heard. Red is a pony, even smaller than Sloene, feisty but she never speaks. Lastly Blue is the one on the verge; she seems at moments to be almost ready to join Sloene and Thomas in rebellion but always at the last minute she changes her mind - but she never gives them away.
Time passes and they do not leave, because despite their flaws Sloene has grown to love their family. Thomas is unsure, reticent to grow attached, but he will not leave her behind to set out alone, even when their escape is fully planned and just waiting. Sloene promises him as soon as they convince Blue to come, it will be time to leave.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Until the morning he is gone.
They settled together, as is their custom, on a soft bed of leaves and dried grass, Sloene tucked into Thomas' side and Blue curled up just touching her on their other side. Today as the world coming awake around them brightens, she blinks sleepily to find him gone, but makes no real note of it as she nudges Blue gently to wakefulness. They seek morning drinks, absolving their thirst, and amble through a peaceful breakfast before the unease claws it's way into Sloene's heart and throat, sending her pulse racing and she begins to look, Blue faithfully at her heels.
She does not give up as having scoured every inch of Shore until the noon sun shines hot and heavy on them and they have asked every single member of the family - twice - if they have seen Thomas. Indigo. The search expands to include everyone, but when they gather at dusk it is to admit defeat. <b> "We have to go find him!"</b> she demands it, whirling on Green and Pink where they stand, nestled together as always. <b> "He can't be out there alone!"</b>
<i> "He should not be out there at all,"</i> Green's voice is stern, his face marred by a heavy frown, but Pink's nose touching his shoulder softly forestalls any more words.
<i> "I agree. They boy's always been a troublemaker, and with Silver it was worse. We should just let him be gone,"</i> the oily voice is Black, snide and callous. Sloene spins again, ears pinned, to retort; but Scarlet and Orange have already driven him back a step, Orange doing the real threatening while Scarlet speaks.
<i> "We cannot abandon a family member like this - we must go after him."</i> She is backed up by Orange, and by Blue pressed close to Sloene's heels. Yellow is silent, shy at the edge of the group. Red shrugs indicating a complete lack of opinion.
<i> "He made his choice-"</i> Green's impatient words are cut off by a single snort, and all eyes turn to White, who steps into the center and looks deep into Sloene's eyes for several tense moments before she speaks.
<i> "We shall all go."</i> the frail old mare intones, and somehow that is the end of it. In no time at all, they are poised to step beyond the citrus grove, following the trail Yellow has found where Thomas departed.
</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: 10px;font-family: 'Cinzel Decorative', cursive;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 40px;"><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel+Decorative:900' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>SL<font color=86abe5>O</font>ENE</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: -5px;padding-left: 185px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 14px;"><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>I've got a lump in my throat</div>
<div style="position: relative;top: -10px;padding-left: 50px;font-family: 'Cinzel', serif;color: #bcb5b2;font-size: 16px;"><link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>cause you're gonna sing the words wrong</div></div></center>