"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
I'm looking for the sky to save me,
looking for a sign of life
She is so, so tired.
Carys slowly makes her way through the hills, her distended belly hanging painfully low, swaying from side to side as she steps through the grass. It will be her time soon, and this time, she can’t even bring herself to look forward to it.
She’d been able to muster up some hope for the birth of the twins - a little hope for a sweet, innocent little child to take after her - but she has nothing left. Halocyn is just the same as Kirke, not evil, but eager to please her father. And Apothyx … she shudders to think about the boy. There’s definitely something deeply wrong with the child.
The children aren’t even the worst of it. Every day here in the Cove is her own little personal hell, being constantly dogged and bullied by the members of the Cove.
She wishes it would end. She wishes she had thrown herself into the sea the day that stallion had stopped her.
The labour pains start early in the morning, and she quickly resigns herself to the whole process. Soon, yet another sticky bundle lies in the grass at her side. Despite her exhaustion (and the black pit that still threatens to swallow her whole), instinct pulls her to her feet and over to the child to clean it off. She doesn’t register much, other than it is a girl, and that she looks just like the twins - black, with a purple mane and tail. She doesn’t even bother to name her … not after last time. She won’t defy Kirin again.
She opens her eyes. The world is full of color the birds chirp and the breeze carresses her skin. Just as her mothers tongue warms her coat. Her stomach growls and she looks at the woman with a big smile. Wobbly knees fold underneath her belly. Wobbly hooves work their way to standing. She manages to get to her forelegs and then falls on her face.
She shakes her head and stands again. This time shaky legs are splayed awkardly underneath her. Going this way and that eventually they find themselves almost stable. Turning towards the woman she smiles again. Nuzzling her face into the womans chest. She wonders at what the matter could possibly be for her to look so unhappy.
Her stubby tail wacks at her haunches creating quite a thumping. Little hooves work their way closer to the warmth of the body. Awwing at the world around her. Its almost overwhelming. All the colors the beauty the sounds. And then she hears another and turns her face curiously to him.
02-06-2016, 09:29 AM (This post was last modified: 02-06-2016, 12:47 PM by Kirin.)
And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love
Useful, is it such a relative term?
Not in the Cove, not for Kirin. In the Cove you were either useful or useless, some more than others. The later was always dealt with accordingly, and never allowed the fruition of hope to spark.
He keeps watch of her ever so carefully as the pregnancy comes to term, working his underlings in shifts. The twins were welcome, though they were otherwise plain they were still twins, something special in his eyes. This time though, this time there had better be another traited gift. A plain child would only be welcome if it wasn't...damaged goods like Arkane had been, he frowned. The thought of something broken coming from his loins was enough to sour his mood. He blamed his dear aunty for that one, her womb unfit for his seed more like.
He lands close today, skirting near enough he could have barreled over the two. Could have, however his flying skills were boastworthy and he takes a spot of earth and turns. His silvered eyes taking in the scene of a sticky foal and a tired mare. Useless. The word triggers his mind, eyes boring into Carys after a fleeting glance at the girl. At the very least the child had inherited his purple, she should thank Khaos for that.
"Kaide." He says, turning his attention back to the child, liking womb from her forehead and meeting the winged woman's eyes again. Waiting for her to make the mistake of imparting the child's name to him as she had done before. To whisper words of audacity that would allow him reason to further break her. Though little was left to be broken, and he didn't really need a reason.
"Can you hear me child?" He whistled, testing the foal for defective ears like the last had disappointed him with. Though not soft, his harsh hazel eyes did not strike the soul of the girl as they would her Dam. "And where is my girl Kirke, and the twins?" His ears flick to Carys but his eyes do not bother looking on her. He would not give way to his intentions until it was much too late for dear old mommy.
Flying purple dot in the sky had caught the dark bay filly’s attention. It wasn’t the first time that she had seen it, but it was the first time that she had been able to wander off. Kyleigh had once again moved away from her mother’s side and although she was merely a week old, she didn’t feel bothered by it at all. She knows she’s safe here and has a big family around. And it was exactly a few members of that family she was approaching right now.
The purple dot from the sky has come down to earth, venerating the winged woman and newborn child with his presence. Her curiosity drives her forward, not at all aware of the fact that she’s disturbing the new family – not that she would care about such thing if she had been. Kyleigh nickers, calling for their attention, a small grin pulling on the corners of her dark lips. Without hesitation she steps forward, entering both the new mother and child’s personal space, to bump her nose against the newest Cove addition in a rather blunt way.
”What’s her name, big brother?” she asks, her eyes only meeting Kirin’s for a short second before looking at the purple haired filly again. The smile upon her lips is more genuine, quite enthusiastic that she now had a playmate of her own age. Her eyes linger upon the fancy coloured mane and tail, and for a short, short moment she cannot help but to feel a little blanc. Boring. But then she shrugs, at least she took after her mother.
peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one
She’s out practising in the fog when the smell of birth first floats out across the water. She’s been trying to reach the same level of comfort as her father in the mists, but it’s slow going. It’s so hard for her to detect anything out there in the white. But while she is determined to practice, she immediately heads back for the cove when she detects the scent on the wind. In the cove, family is everything. And it’s important for her to welcome this newest member of the family.
She hurries back, and alights beside the group. She is not surprised to see her father there, but she is surprised by the little bay filly at his side. She is not the newborn that she’s come to meet (the girl has left the smell of birth long behind), and the lack of lavender or purple means that it is likely not a sibling of hers. She just manages to catch a comment from the child that answers her unspoken question. Another child of grandmother’s. And clearly, an unfortunately normal one.
Curiosity satisfied, she turns to look at the mare and new foal. Her lip can’t help but curl when she realizes that it’s her own mother, and newest full sibling. Carys looks just as pathetic as usual, her broken wings hanging limp and lacklustre at her sides. While Kirke understands the necessity of diversifying the bloodline, she can’t help but wish she’d been born to a different mother, another child of Khaos. Rather than this weak, miserable creature.
At least the child - another girl - has inherited some their father’s purple. But there are no special traits that she can see. She’s both relieved and frustrated. She does not want the competition for their father’s affections (there’s already no way that she will ever measure up to Potion), but Khaos’ descendants deserve better than simple purple manes and tails. It’s her mother’s influence thinning the blood.
But at least she’s healthy.
She glances at her father, wondering what he’s named the girl. “Another credit to you father. What have you named her?” At least she assumes her father has been the one to name her this time - she does not think Carys likely to make the same mistake twice.
02-15-2016, 07:34 PM (This post was last modified: 02-15-2016, 07:35 PM by Kirin.)
And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love
Come he says. Come they must, musn't they? Well, they had best come, for Kirin would be sore if they did not.
A few do indeed heed his presence, his youngest sister for instance. She is sleek and new, dark of coat like their damn but all together lacking anything significant- much like Kult. And though lacking of some visual spectacle, she was beauty alongside the state of degradation the winged mare had succumbed to. Feathers peeling and floating away where she stepped, so broken and mangled were her wings that no amount of rehabilitation, or rest, would provide redemption for them now. She had tried to leave him once but just the once. That's usually all it took, one missed step- they all learned in the end.
Again he is pleased as another makes their way to the group, floating from the skies to meet them on solid ground. His very own flesh and blood made whole and given substance in this vessel, on this plane of being. "Kirke." He smiles, fussing the girls forelock in adoration and stretching a wing to hug her closer to his side. Closely now for soon he would have words for her, words for her that she must understand, that were of utmost importance. "We'll call her Kaide," he begins, imparting the gift of name to one of his eldest offspring, "yes of course dear, no thanks to Carys we can be sure."
Carys. As if she were not there. Carys Not 'your mother' or 'your dam'. No, nothing to impart the feeling of belonging. Nothing to associate with the word so strong as family, or motherhood, or a life worth preserving. They must not think of this sad creature in such a way, not anymore, not as used up as she was and proved to be.
He whistles then, for Potion, for Capture. He was tiring of the dead weight of the woman, he wished to be rid of her- and what a perfect job for his girls. "I find myself very unhappy as of late Carys," he tugs at Kirke, closer..closer. "We can't have daddy unhappy can we Kirke?" The silver in his eyes flashes, yet they find a warmth all their own for the girl, the one he looks at as he snares her to his skin.
When they come (and they do come) he smiles, for a moment fawning on each girl. One the color of the fading sunset, the other a mesh of silver and green- both special gifts that he could make use of. Potion greets him fondly, dipping her head inward as Kirin whispers to the soft petal of velvet atop her head. The filly nods, seeming to be unphased by the passing of words and with an 'ahah!' sound Kirin begins again. "I know! We'll have a game. You girls like games, now don't you?"
They should like games, they would learn to like games. Games. They would and they would learn.
She blinks looking around her as a horde of horses gather. All of them being embraced by their father. All of them ignoring her and the woman with the brightly colored wings. With a frown her ears flick towards the annoying sound he makes.Yes I can hear you. She states it with almost a whisper. Gentle and thoughtful. What was going on? She couldn't quite determine. Standing next to the woman, she took her first meal filling her belly with the warmth so that it swelled and hardened with its fullness.
When suddenly a bump jostles her balance. Whirling her head around she notices the bay colored filly. They were the same height Whats her name? She blinks up at him, unaware that she could ask theh filly dirrectly. No everyone seemed to be asking him what her name is. So She turns and replicates their own actions with in turn asking about their own names.
She blinks looking around watching as each is affectionately touched. Something she was finding herself yearning for. Wide eyes look up at the mare. What had happened? Why was the winged man and all the hroses around him so unhappy with the woman? She had cleaned her, she had fed her, she had kept her warm. And for a breif moment she had shown they same loving touch that the others had recieved from Kirin.
What was wrong? Why would be be unhappy? Games? What were games. She felt so small and completely invisible in the big group of special horses. All of them seemed to hold something dear, all of them seemed to be of special value. What was her gift? She was quickly realizing that she herself had nothing that would make the man want to cuddle her up just as he was the others. No she was plain, normal, and nothing worthy of love.
She wanted to go to the mares side and lean into her, but looking at the group around them, she was sure that something really terrible would happen if she did. Something told her to stay away from the mare. Almost as if being invisible was better than being the object of the males wrath, so she stands there next to the other filly. Leaning into her rather than the mother for comfort.
02-20-2016, 09:09 AM (This post was last modified: 02-20-2016, 09:15 AM by Potion.)
forever young, i want to be forever young
Potion was doing, what Potion did best- entertaining herself. Today that consisted of splashing in the shallows, laughing as the salty water soaked her legs and barrel. The water was crisp, yet the bite of winter had been stolen from it with the merging of seasons to Spring. Her pale coat was darkened to hues of sand and wheat from the damp, and her violet tail hung limp in shades of indigo from violet.
Now it's not to say that every once in a while she wouldn't find company in her siblings, or her aunts, uncles, and the like. She had Kirke for instance, her winged sister, the one whom always seemed just a little too poised in her presence- as if something was amiss.
There was her young Aunt Kohl, her Grandmother Killgore both of which were not opposed to spend hours chattering, grooming her mane and weaving wildflowers through her hair. Though often Grandmother would speak nonsense and she and Kohl would simply nod, or 'mhm' in return, though they knew nothing of which she spoke. Yes she had others here in the Cove, it's just that they all seemed to have some job to do, somewhere important to be. So, the young buckskin colored filly was left to occupy herself, which she did with a smile.
Come, the familiar voice beckons her.
Father, she thinks twisting her head and turning her ears towards the voice.
She had learned from a young age that when Father said to come, you came, you did not hesitate or dilly-dally. It was just something that was expected, something she did without a thought or second guess. That was life in the Cove but it always panned out- life had been good and Father had too.
With a slosh of briny water she emerges from the shallows, tossing her head and giving a whinny in a signal of 'Good-bye' to the gentle waves, a 'see -you-later' sort of nod that she did not know it could not comprehend. A shake of leg and body sends tiny droplets of water spraying the sand though she would not completely dry, she just knew she must be clean and presentable when she arrived. Perhaps she would run into Capture on the way, the girl had a funny sort of Magic with water.
The gathering is small but growing. A grouping of her family, her kin, some she knew and some who were new to this life. Her violet locks drape across her face as she dips her head in to speak to the lavender stallion, words pressing into her paint-dipped earlobes and tickling the tiny hairs within.
'We're going to play a game Potion.... You will return Carys to the state of childhood, and your siblings will take it from their my love.'
Fathers words resonate like a spell within her mind, coaxing what they would from her will and her sense of right and wrong. Of that she had little, or to say..she had her own sense of the words, of morals. Kirin had seen to that when she was very young still, before she had made herself grow and change.
His maw parts in a winning smile as she pulls her tawny head away, a simple nod in understanding. Why shouldn't she do as Father asked? Why would she question this?
She wouldn't because it is all she knows, she doesn't because she sees no reason to. Potion only nods, accepting her task for what it is. She stands patiently beside Kirin, waiting as he speaks the words out loud to the others, the rules and ways of the game. When he is finished, when he waves her forward with his free wing she fixes a smile on the broken creature.
A woman with wings, once bright and beautiful, a woman she knew as her sister's Dam. Carys, the name plays softly on her thoughts. She steps forward, coaxed by her Father and her duties. "Farewell Carys." She says brightly, too brightly for such a situation, the woman's shape already caving. Her body tugging, folding inward and reverting back to a previous state. A process of contorted proportions and blinding light, a reverberating feeling that could raise the hair on the back of one's neck. One of youth, wings still mangled because Potion could not repair that sort of damage. An age that would be 'fair' Father said, an age to match the grouping of children that would finish his game.
When it was done, she looked back at Kirin with a grin, pleased with herself and hoping he too was pleased with her work.
02-22-2016, 03:37 AM (This post was last modified: 02-22-2016, 03:38 AM by Kirke.)
peel away the layers till you're nothing and no one
Kaide. Nothing special, but a suitable enough name for a relatively unremarkable girl. She nods her head in deference to her father as he turns his attention to her mother. Carys. A sneer threatens at the corner of her mouth.
Father calls for Potion and icy discomfort washes over her as her gifted sister appears. It’s embarrassing enough to have Carys for a mother, but to have Potion herself see what a pathetic waste Carys is? She wants nothing more than to hide, but she can’t do that with her father watching. Instead she holds her head high, fighting the urge to cringe as Father draws her closer to her mother. “No Father, we cannot.”
Father speaks of playing a game and Kirke instantly understands. Carys has long outlived her usefulness. It’s time to get rid of her.
Perhaps, this way, she can make up for her unfortunate parentage.
Potion steps forward, touching her mother and working her marvellous gift. Kirke can’t help but feel awe (mixed with hot, fierce, jealousy) as her mother shrinks and grows more youthful before her eyes. But Potion stops short of returning Carys to a bundle of cells. It’s up to Carys’ children to remove her (their disgrace) from the world.
Kirke steps forward first, eyes resolutely fixed upon the child that had been her mother. As the eldest, she will strike the first blow.
Carys looks at her with tear filled eyes, realization finally seeming to sink in. “K-Kirke?” Kirke rears up, rainbow wings flaring out at her sides. Deep in the darkest corner of her heart she still cares for the mare, but she buries it beneath the anger, frustration and desperation for her father’s affection. Her feet crash down on the small filly’s head with awful finality, then she steps back. She did not strike hard enough to kill - she must let her siblings have a chance at her too.
But she hopes her father lets her strike the killing blow.
They giggled in unison. Two sets of the blackest eyes set mercilessly deep behind the lavender plumage of the girl's mop and the purple of her brother's. The twins, black black black. They moved in unison, breathed in unison, unblinking and watching the game from their little secret thicket. Their little world filled with their made up language that only they spoke to one another about. Rarely did they communicate outside of their bond, merely staring blankly at most before laughing and bouncing away. But now the sounds on heavy breathing and the scent of kroovy drew them out from themselves.
There seemd to be quite the assembly about. The two yearlings walked, shoulders touching as they spied all shades of purples and plums and lavenders. There were flashes of red and blue and yellow of wings that they recognized as their...m-m-motherrr? Was that the word? Yet there were many other equines crowded.
The boy and girl stood off and watched in time to see the slobbering form of Carys taken by a rather lovely buckskin. Carys twists and contorts and changes to that of a...
...foal?
"One of us, one of us..." Apothyx and Halocyn chant quietly in unison as their eyes widen slightly before narrowing at the sight of Kaide (their sister) pressuring the skull of the little crumpled filly like a frozen grape between your teeth before it bursts. They begin to chuckle again, staring endlessly. They instinctively moved together to near their father. The pair of yearlings only parting to stand on either side of the equine-god, something that they only did for him for their bond was unbreakable. Simultaneously, they both look to their father with twisted, crooked smiles. Those black eyes depthless and maniacal.
