09-19-2018, 10:42 PM
At best the old mare sees only shadows, but nightfall brings utter darkness to those clouded eyes. In her youth Mallek had been quite beautiful. Her hair had been as fine and as soft as silk. Her coat gleamed brilliantly white with only a few well placed sorrel spots. But as beautiful as she may have been on the outside, her heart had always been an ugly, thorny place.
How many children had she birthed and then abandoned? How many hearts had she crushed beyond repair because hers could never be whole? How many of her children had gone on to create havoc and ruin because their own mother could not, would not guide them.
She thinks of Azkaban, her dark servant of the Chamber of Evil. She thinks of his sins - those he had raped and imprisoned in that putrid pit. She thinks of Shatterflesh and the night he took her… or had she taken him? She thinks of their inbred son, Deatheater, and how she left him to fend for himself as a newborn, too ashamed to look at him.
The stranger’s words do little to rouse her from those memories. They seem distant, even as if they were under water. The past drowns her this night.
“What brings you out tonight?” the kelpie says, his voice as soothing and as sinister as the rush of the riptide. “Though if you’re on your way to meet someone, don’t let me stop you.”
How many men had she met in the dark of night just like him? (Though perhaps less toothy).
“I won’t.” she replies, her throat full of phlegm and grit. She holds back a cough as she attempts to move past him, closer to the water’s edge.
Let the past drown her this night.
-Mallek
@Ivar - feel free to power play however you see fit.
How many children had she birthed and then abandoned? How many hearts had she crushed beyond repair because hers could never be whole? How many of her children had gone on to create havoc and ruin because their own mother could not, would not guide them.
She thinks of Azkaban, her dark servant of the Chamber of Evil. She thinks of his sins - those he had raped and imprisoned in that putrid pit. She thinks of Shatterflesh and the night he took her… or had she taken him? She thinks of their inbred son, Deatheater, and how she left him to fend for himself as a newborn, too ashamed to look at him.
The stranger’s words do little to rouse her from those memories. They seem distant, even as if they were under water. The past drowns her this night.
“What brings you out tonight?” the kelpie says, his voice as soothing and as sinister as the rush of the riptide. “Though if you’re on your way to meet someone, don’t let me stop you.”
How many men had she met in the dark of night just like him? (Though perhaps less toothy).
“I won’t.” she replies, her throat full of phlegm and grit. She holds back a cough as she attempts to move past him, closer to the water’s edge.
Let the past drown her this night.
-Mallek
@Ivar - feel free to power play however you see fit.