06-07-2017, 09:51 PM
the incense that sun on prairie offers to sky
Spark is restless. She hasn’t been this way since before the Reckoning, or was it after? Time has become static for her, humdrum even besides the few momentous occasions that punctuate it. Like when did she become this morose? Peculiar, she thinks, but it came after learning that Giver had mistaken his sister for her and got fat and happy with twins. Could she blame him? He was beguiled through vile means, that much is true but deep down, Spark still harbors a small fire of anger that she stokes continuously so that the coals smoulder and smoulder - he should have known!
She gives a little shake of her head to dispel the thoughts that begin to trouble her. It does little to no good to start thinking of him now, he seems far more absent than usual - his smell faint upon the sulphuric winds of Tephra, almost like he’s more ghost than stallion. Spark supposes that it is because he is a father now, busy with his son’s upbringing and thoughts of the daughter drag-drowned into the sea by her hag of a mother. She feels sorry for the twins, unable to conceive of the pain of being sundered from your other half by someone so callous and cruel as your own mother. Her own twin was never far despite the few times they had gone apart but the decision had always been mutual rather than forced.
Spark just barely stifles a sigh - those thoughts again! Him, the foals, and their future that seems as barren as the black slopes of the volcano that her mismatched eyes look upon. She decides then to venture out from Tephra before she feels the urge to reclaim her other self - a new self that was only just discovered and the medicine hat mare still has no idea how she came to be able to mimic fire but she could. Just the thought of it made it surge to the forefront of her being, her heart constricted and her blood began to boil and she had to suck in breath after deep breath to calm herself down. It came more readily when she seemed to think of it or was angered…
Finally, she was a little calmer given that her twin was nowhere near her at that moment. He was her rock and steadied both her pulse and her breath when she could not, but she found that she didn’t really need him that moment… and sometimes, not at all now that she had the fire in her. It made her more independent and as such, she decided to follow through on that decision to leave the humid climate of Tephra behind for a little bit. Not that she had much of a plan as she stalked forth at a smart pace, but sometimes a plan was not necessary and she’d just see where the wind would blow her. Turns out, that was the Field.
To be honest, there is not much to look at.
She’s never come here, to find a home or help others do just that. It has been a place of overheard conversation but never enough to intrigue her. So why now? Because she is emboldened by the fire inside her, just enough to slip Spear’s careful watch and go beyond the volcano’s foreboding shadow to this - chewed on grass, through hunger and boredom both, she supposes, and clusters of horses to those that stand so painfully and obviously alone.
She can feel the sun on the black bonneted skin atop her head, black ears flicking to and fro as she listens to the sounds all around her. It seemed louder here than what she is used to. The rest of her is pale, besides the black shielded skin on her breast - a true medicine hat, just like her mother, once valued by the people on the plains or so her mother told her because of her unique coloration.
Spark no more thought of herself unique than she did any of the stars in the sky because there were so many, just as there must be other medicine hat paints out there, and other mares small and entirely as wild looking as she is. Her fur is a bit rough and woolly, she lacks the sleekness that all the others seem to possess and her muzzle while slim is whiskered. To an extent, she could be considered pretty but things like that just never crossed her mind. What did cross her mind was the dark bay stallion that came striding off a hill, his walk long-legged and certain as if purpose drove him despite the inapproachable look on his face. His eyes betrayed him though, green and inviting.
Her face wore a frown of puzzlement; why look hostile but desire company?
Still, her own mismatched eyes (one black and the right is red, a trait inherited from her father but split between herself and her twin) trail after him and before she knows it, she is trailing after him too. “You don’t look too friendly but your eyes betray you…” she calls after him, much shorter than him and having to work twice as hard to keep up as she nears him enough to nose along his flank (not really, she’s just that close finally as she inhales his scent).Spark