11-09-2019, 11:04 AM
She’d died a million deaths already, and this one wasn’t so spectacular as any of the others.
If only it weren’t so permanent this time.
She was a babysitter - a million times over, in a million lifetimes. Apparently the last time she had lost her ability to regenerate, or, more likely, it finally wasn’t needed to save him any more.
Every single life she’d led, she had gone in oblivious - she led her life, she babysat, taught, herded the younger fillies and colts together in their first year (all she remembers is being a horse, though in truth she wasn’t in most cases - but that is Beqanna’s magic, even in the Afterlife): she teach them about life, about herd and kingdom politics, and somehow every time there would be someone worth saving, someone who could teach her a thing or two, but ultimately when she did, she would not survive. But he would, and that was important somehow.
Once dead she would remember that it was a repetitive pattern, but it wouldn’t be long before she was needed elsewhere, and went into life, oblivious again.
Now that it was final, she felt a strange kind of emptiness. Last time had not been anything special. Did he not need her anymore? Had something gone wrong and could she not save him? Or had they maxed out, and this was the unspectacular end of the line?
It was crazy to think about, her mind going in circles, over-analyzing her last death. Her last save.
A herd, part of a kingdom that hardly ever bothered them, as was how they liked it. Ozzie never had foals herself, but she’d gathered her fair share of other mare’s children as she grew older, giving the mothers space mentally and physically as it would be safe to leave the young ones with her.
She wasn’t the only one who did that - she had no partner, didn’t want any, and those were the other gouvernesses that she knew were watching the young ones with her. They lived in the mountains, their herd near a cliff but always would the foals be watched when they played, never ever did any of them come near the edge until they could be told about the height and learned to understand the dangers. It was, after all, the place where the elders of the herd grazed, and so they formed a barrier against the deadly depths.
Then one day from below, a traveller came, a young stallion looking for his fortune, he’d said. His name was something ordinary, something she couldn’t quite remember even in death - or perhaps because of it, seeing that all his different names mashed together and she could not pick them apart. It did not matter - the fact was that he came from below, and he was Odd. Let’s call him Odd, she thinks now, going over the memory.
Unlike the other herd members, she took an instant liking to him. When she was off duty, she would take long walks with him and he’d tell her about life. Odd was different, more knowledgeable, and worth saving because somehow she knew his life meant more to the world than her own.
Then, as it always would, someone or something showed up that would likely kill him. In this case, a blizzard, controlled by a winter wizard. He’d been a small white stallion, a pony even, she thinks, but born with the powers of winter - and a bad temper.
He’d been looking to claim the herd as his own, came in with snow to tease the young ones with, came in with ice when the herd leaders confronted him.
Odd was the one who scared him the most. Ozzie saw this - the winter pony knew as she knew, that he was special, and had more power than he let on.
So one night, the winter wizard threatened them on their walk. Told Odd to leave; deemed Ozzie unworthy of his attention. The little stallion had a mean streak, and when the argument didn’t go his way, he called upon a large blizzard, which made the ground icy and thus slippery, and pushed Odd towards the cliff.
Naturally - she knew no better-, Ozzie saved him by putting herself in the way. Odd bumped into her and Ozzie was the one tumbling down.
Now that she was here, she could only hope that Odd had made it, and had been able to escape or even push the white winter wizard into the depths. Though somehow she knew the latter to be unlikely.
Death was cold, she started to notice - normally, she had not had the time to think about those things. But now… now she wondered why she was trapped, and thát she was trapped, and she wondered why she could not escape and why she wasn’t pulled back into her cycle of life and death once more.
What’s the holdup?
Could someone please explain?
If only it weren’t so permanent this time.
She was a babysitter - a million times over, in a million lifetimes. Apparently the last time she had lost her ability to regenerate, or, more likely, it finally wasn’t needed to save him any more.
Every single life she’d led, she had gone in oblivious - she led her life, she babysat, taught, herded the younger fillies and colts together in their first year (all she remembers is being a horse, though in truth she wasn’t in most cases - but that is Beqanna’s magic, even in the Afterlife): she teach them about life, about herd and kingdom politics, and somehow every time there would be someone worth saving, someone who could teach her a thing or two, but ultimately when she did, she would not survive. But he would, and that was important somehow.
Once dead she would remember that it was a repetitive pattern, but it wouldn’t be long before she was needed elsewhere, and went into life, oblivious again.
Now that it was final, she felt a strange kind of emptiness. Last time had not been anything special. Did he not need her anymore? Had something gone wrong and could she not save him? Or had they maxed out, and this was the unspectacular end of the line?
It was crazy to think about, her mind going in circles, over-analyzing her last death. Her last save.
A herd, part of a kingdom that hardly ever bothered them, as was how they liked it. Ozzie never had foals herself, but she’d gathered her fair share of other mare’s children as she grew older, giving the mothers space mentally and physically as it would be safe to leave the young ones with her.
She wasn’t the only one who did that - she had no partner, didn’t want any, and those were the other gouvernesses that she knew were watching the young ones with her. They lived in the mountains, their herd near a cliff but always would the foals be watched when they played, never ever did any of them come near the edge until they could be told about the height and learned to understand the dangers. It was, after all, the place where the elders of the herd grazed, and so they formed a barrier against the deadly depths.
Then one day from below, a traveller came, a young stallion looking for his fortune, he’d said. His name was something ordinary, something she couldn’t quite remember even in death - or perhaps because of it, seeing that all his different names mashed together and she could not pick them apart. It did not matter - the fact was that he came from below, and he was Odd. Let’s call him Odd, she thinks now, going over the memory.
Unlike the other herd members, she took an instant liking to him. When she was off duty, she would take long walks with him and he’d tell her about life. Odd was different, more knowledgeable, and worth saving because somehow she knew his life meant more to the world than her own.
Then, as it always would, someone or something showed up that would likely kill him. In this case, a blizzard, controlled by a winter wizard. He’d been a small white stallion, a pony even, she thinks, but born with the powers of winter - and a bad temper.
He’d been looking to claim the herd as his own, came in with snow to tease the young ones with, came in with ice when the herd leaders confronted him.
Odd was the one who scared him the most. Ozzie saw this - the winter pony knew as she knew, that he was special, and had more power than he let on.
So one night, the winter wizard threatened them on their walk. Told Odd to leave; deemed Ozzie unworthy of his attention. The little stallion had a mean streak, and when the argument didn’t go his way, he called upon a large blizzard, which made the ground icy and thus slippery, and pushed Odd towards the cliff.
Naturally - she knew no better-, Ozzie saved him by putting herself in the way. Odd bumped into her and Ozzie was the one tumbling down.
Now that she was here, she could only hope that Odd had made it, and had been able to escape or even push the white winter wizard into the depths. Though somehow she knew the latter to be unlikely.
Death was cold, she started to notice - normally, she had not had the time to think about those things. But now… now she wondered why she was trapped, and thát she was trapped, and she wondered why she could not escape and why she wasn’t pulled back into her cycle of life and death once more.
What’s the holdup?
Could someone please explain?