Ravin
09-14-2025, 12:38 PM
The Valley.
Ravin’s head tilts, recognizing the name. It is a story to the young stallion, one of the many places that had once been but were no longer. A dark story, he remembers, but an old one.
Old like the queen in front of him, her skin sloughing from her sides. Ravin does his best to hide a wince as he watches a bit fall to the ground, but is not entirely successful. Perhaps he’ll die soon, Ravin thinks, killed by the ghoul queen of the dead Valley. He can’t remember any of the specifics, but he’s sure there’d been a tale or two about that, whispered in the moondark around a pyre of glowing flowers, of Eight and of horrors.
Will it be his soul she takes, he wonders, or perhaps his body as replacement to her own?
His spiraling is halted by the question she asks, his ears pinning as if to somehow impede the silent voice. Him, new? That’s the question that he asks to the strangers who seem lost or out of time.
“I mean, I guess…relatively?” he replies, thinking that the Valley had been nothing but stories for generations, “But I’ve lived here my whole life. Well, not here, in the…” His voice trails off as he realizes what he might reveal, and to whom. To what.
“So, uh, got any plans tonight?” He asks again, this time hopeful for the opposite reason.
@Topsail
ooh: we're just taking turns :')
Ravin’s head tilts, recognizing the name. It is a story to the young stallion, one of the many places that had once been but were no longer. A dark story, he remembers, but an old one.
Old like the queen in front of him, her skin sloughing from her sides. Ravin does his best to hide a wince as he watches a bit fall to the ground, but is not entirely successful. Perhaps he’ll die soon, Ravin thinks, killed by the ghoul queen of the dead Valley. He can’t remember any of the specifics, but he’s sure there’d been a tale or two about that, whispered in the moondark around a pyre of glowing flowers, of Eight and of horrors.
Will it be his soul she takes, he wonders, or perhaps his body as replacement to her own?
His spiraling is halted by the question she asks, his ears pinning as if to somehow impede the silent voice. Him, new? That’s the question that he asks to the strangers who seem lost or out of time.
“I mean, I guess…relatively?” he replies, thinking that the Valley had been nothing but stories for generations, “But I’ve lived here my whole life. Well, not here, in the…” His voice trails off as he realizes what he might reveal, and to whom. To what.
“So, uh, got any plans tonight?” He asks again, this time hopeful for the opposite reason.
@Topsail
ooh: we're just taking turns :')