07-07-2015, 02:29 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-07-2015, 02:30 PM by Dimora.)
 Dimora was new to this world, her mother Latara was usually busy with her brother so she often found herself exploring on her own and seeing what she could get into. She was a independant filly, maybe she got this from her father Covet. Or maybe she got it from her mother but either way she was always on her own. She was following a butterfly and not paying attention when she found herself in a unknown territory smells were different and it was a different place. Her long legs carried her to the middle of the territory. It smelled of others like her, has she gone somewhere she shouldnt? She lowered her nose to the ground and sniffed trying to take it all in. It was a big place, but for a little filly like herself everything looked big. This place seemed familiar maybe she been here not by herself but when her mother was pregnant with her. Was this the valley? She thought she had heard her mother talk about it before.When she was just born she couldnt figure it out but it was like a de ja vue moment.
Her long multi colored legs carried her through this new land. Her orange eyes from her father looked all over the place, she instantly fell in love with this place. It almost felt like home and hopefully others here would welcome her and not shoo her off. She was determined not to go back to her mother, she could live on her own. She didnt need no stupid mother to keep her safe. Though she was awfully thirsty, she looked around for some milk but only found water, she galloped off towards water. Lowering her crown to the water she started drinking the water. This was new for her but a great experiance. She trotted off exploring this land she just found. She could be queen she snickered, feeling big and strong about herself.
 what is dead may never die;
Aletheia, too, is new to this world. Although not in the usual sense. Usually, horses are new to this world by virtue of having been recently born. Aletheia, on the other hand, was deposited in the meadow with relatively little ceremony, awaking covered in snow and cold. She had scattered memories of a life before, dancing among the stars with others who might have been family, but they slip from her mind like water every day.
She does not know whether she misses them or whether she welcomes the change. She does not know whether she should cling to them like a lifeline, or sweep them out with the rest of the dust.
And so, she does nothing but dedicate herself to her new home. It is one of four things she knows: Librette is her mother, Carnage her father, the Valley her home, and Aletheia, her name. These are her lodestones, her touchstones, the things that she knows with absolute certainty. Everything else about the world is, in her opinion, worthy of some skepticism.
As part of her duty to the Valley, Aletheia has (entirely unknowingly) taken up her mother's role as borderguard. Aletheia had never known her mother, and so has no way of knowing their similarity, but it exists all the same. And so it is that she is the first one to find the stranger girl, so small, drinking from their stream.
For the moment, the girl doesn't seem to spot Aletheia. Theia quickly surmises that the visitor is fairly young; judging age at a glance does not come naturally to her (for example, she herself is far older than her age would indicate) but she's been working on it, and she is finding she excels at anything she works at. The girl is young, too young to be here alone. But she doesn't smell any other horses.
The girl finishes drinking and breaks off at a trot, conveniently heading in the direction of Aletheia. The girl steps forward from the trees, obviously visible but entirely silent. Aletheia is a pretty little thing, appearing about two or three years old. She's mostly grey – a bit early for that at her age, but her coat color is the least of her abnormalities. As she stands, the spring flowers beneath her hooves start to slowly shrink away from her, withering and cringing as though in some kind of horticultural pain. To any other horse this would no doubt be worrisome, but to Aletheia, this is simply another fact that she is learning. Wherever she goes, wherever she touches anything, it seems to start withering. At least it doesn't seem to stop her from getting the nutrients she needs from eating grass.
She looks the girl up and down with a neutral gaze, finally offering a nod – of welcome or of approval is impossible to tell. "Welcome to the Valley." she offers. Her voice is unemotional, neutral, but very pleasant – like the kind of voice that reads an audiobook. " Can I help you?" The tones are simply nothing – neither welcoming nor unwelcoming, neither sweet nor sour.
But the greeting could clearly use some polish. It's better than she'd had before – the girl is learning – but clearly, she gets her social graces from her (legendarily, epically graceless) mother.
but rises again
Aletheia harder and stronger
Dimora was drinking some water and was running around, when she came across another like her, almost running into the other. She slides to a stop the dust flies everywhere. She stands before the white figure. She looked almost in the same size as she was, but why hasnt she seen them before? She had only been to the Valley a short time, she was sorta on a quest or a journey you should say. She wanted to learn her fathers legacy and follow in his footsteps and grow into a strong mare just like him. She looked to make sure her mother wasnt going to pop out of the trees and snap her away. She was always protective of her. Which annoyed her she was too independant for that.
She bowed her head alittle gracefully I am Dimora, i was born far from here but both parents are from Beqanna. She raised her crown to the sky again. She stepped closer and placed her nose on the white filly. It was her way of getting to know someone, there smell, who they were. She had a good way of telling if they were going to be bad or good just by touching them. Thank you, im here in search of my father. My mother told me he lives here. Do.Do you knows him? Or have you seen him around? Her big brown eyes was what caught everyones attention. And hopefully someday catch the love of her life. But until then she was comfortable just being on her own and making friends.
what is dead may never die;
The girl almost runs into her, but to look at Aletheia you'd never know it. She simply stands still, trusting that they won't collide, or perhaps not caring if they do. The painted mare is ultimately able to stop before she crashes into Theia, but it's a close question. Aletheia does not so much as raise an eyebrow.
The girl speaks then, introducing herself, and Aletheia listens politely. Even she can tell that the girl is young, little more than a filly, and she wonders how it's come to happen that she is here. Being born outside Beqanna she'd have had quite a trip to get back here. Aletheia wonders absentmindedly if the girl's parents knew that she was here.
Aletheia is about to reply and give her own name, as is only proper, when something entirely unexpected happens: Dimora reaches out and touches her.
Aletheia has not been touched by a horse in all of her time in Beqanna, believe it or not. Perhaps it's her naturally icy demeanor. Perhaps it's her natural reserved and distant personality. But when Dimora puts her nose gently on Aletheia, the grey girl gasps.
It's as though she can feel a small trickle of the girl's energy starting to melt into her. It's an incredibly weird feeling, and she can't help it – she pulls back reflexively.
It's then that she notices the grass where she had been standing: wilted, just like all the grass her hooves touch. She wonders if it's the same kind of thing, and she looks back to Dimora, true concern in her eyes for the first time. She is relieved to see that the girl does not seem as wilted as the plants – perhaps whatever it is she does to plants is diluted on larger things? Or perhaps it's something entirely different? She has absolutely no idea.
"S-sorry." she finally manages after a moment. Her voice sounds uncharacteristically shaken. "I've never had that happen before." her voice slowly returns to its even, neither pleasant nor unpleasant timbre. She declines to mention that she's never been touched before. She hopes the girl decides not to try touching again.
She remembers, then, that the girl had asked something else. Something about a father. "Your father? I don't know of any stallions here right now. What's his name?"
but rises again
Aletheia harder and stronger
After she touched the white filly, she got this strange feeling go through her body. It was hard to explain but she all of a sudden felt very tired. It was wierd she felt normal just a minute ago. Did this filly that was with her put a spell on her or something. What did you do to me? I felt strange. She looked over the filly, making sure she didnt have anything else coming at her, she pinned her ears back not sure what to think. She thought they were friends, she stepped cautiously around her. Feeling unsure what to do, but she liked her company. And she wasnt the kind of filly to run from things, she always was intrigued by things and wanted to get behind the cause of things.
The white filly was asking her some questions about her father, this was the first time anyone has asked her about it. She was on a journey to find her fathers legacy, though she never meet him but she had a strong urge to know about him. My mother said he used to live here, but she wasnt sure if he still lived here or not. The meet here before they had me. She looked around hoping to find any clue of where he might be. Not knowing much about him or where he might of been. She had gotten the feeling in her stomach that her adventure was going to lead to a dead end. Or hear something she didnt want to hear. His name is Covet have you heard of him? My mother said he lived here. As she was standing there, she felt the ground shake alittle. She jumped she never felt that before and was wondering what it was. She backed away from Aletheia, she had put some kind of spell on her and now she wasnt sure what she was up to now.
what is dead may never die;
"I-I-" she stammers, unsure of how to explain it, but desperately wishing she could. Her face remains calm, but her icy eyes are concerned. "I'm not sure, but I didn't mean to." her voice is painfully earnest, but it is still unhurried. She does not trip over herself to apologize. "I think…it's simply something that happens with me. I didn't know it would happen with a horse." The words flow more quickly now, her gaze flicking uneasily between Dimora and the ground.
"I've never…been touched by another horse, that I can remember." she admits, her eyes fixed on Dimora. Her voice is detached and curious, as though she is a scientist observing her condition from far away. For most horses, the lack of touch would be seriously troubling, could be the kind of thing that ruins a soul. For Aletheia, it is merely a fact of life, something worth pondering for its scientific merits, but not something that will actively bother her.
Is she strange because she lacks things like touch, or does she lack things like touch because she is so strange she never wanted them?
Undaunted, the grey girl stands her ground. Dimora seems to accept that she means no harm, or at least, accept it enough not to immediately run away. Instead, she tells Aletheia about the father she's come to find. It does not occur to Aletheia that in this they are parallel. Aletheia is here because she is seeking her own roots. Not in the same concrete way that Dimora is; Aletheia knows that if her parents were here, she'd have found them by now. But she also never wanted to find them, or at least, not as such. She was driven by a desire for this place, which was their place. They both are secondary.
"Covet." she tastes the name like a ghost on her lips. "No, I don't know him." She doesn't know much of anyone, but she does not say that. "But he's the one that gave you the orange eyes." she states, with absolute and unshakeable confidence. "I don't think he is knowable, not anymore." she speaks in accidental riddles. "You'll want to talk to Thorrun. Covet was her father too." she pauses then, her voice unhurried. Her tone is flat, neither sympathetic nor callous – simply speaking a truth, or what she suspects is a truth. "I think that he is dead."
but rises again
Aletheia harder and stronger
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