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<center><div class="Wennycontain"><img class="Wennyimg" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ea/37/69/ea3769a9996075ca9173f6b7facc065a.jpg"><div class="Wennyname">Eurwen</div>
<div class="Wennyquote">the secret of walking on water<br>is knowing where the rocks lie</div><div class="Wennygrad"></div><div class="Wennytext">
There is no ending in the endless loop; stuck on the Mountain, but most of all stuck in her own mind, trapped as it were - she doesn’t remember drinking or eating or walking or sleeping, but apparently that’s all she did. In her state of unconsciousness, her body must have done those things to keep her alive, if this was to be called a life at all. Sometimes she has the feeling of drifting, sometimes the feeling of being grounded - but so much that she is stuck where she is, glued to her spot.
Rarely does she see anyone else, and those only from a distance. Most of the time, she feels them. The Mountain is made of the very rock she is mentally attuned to; her beacon, her ground, her home. Through it she can feel every horse that has passed her hiding spot on their way to the fairies, but she doesn’t know who they are or why they come. She doesn’t care either, for in her numb state she cares about nothing and no-one at all.
But from where she stands… hangs more or less, as if she’s a floppy doll with sticks in her legs, put there carefully and she better not move or she would probably fall over. From where she stands as such, she sees only the rocks and low vegetation for a long time.
A gust of wind approaches, and obsidian hooves approach, come into her sight and stay a while away, but they don’t leave. Obsidian. Instantly, the pink-spotted mare is taken back to the place of horror, the place she should never have visited if she had been sound of mind; but she had been too young to understand the danger.
The bay overo mare had gathered most of the young children that had come, tried to protect them. Eurwen had watched the antlered mare be swallowed by a monster, and much like she experienced and out-of-body state right now, she had been beside herself when she’d slain the beasts instead of reasoning with them, to free her. Her and the children she had wanted to protect.
She’d only been a child. She shouldn’t have seen such things.
Following the obsidian hooves up, the resemblance is uncanny. Sure, her spots are of a different pattern. But it’s really the wings that differentiate the young mare before her from the mare who’d been with her in the Cove.
”You’re Kagerus’ child.”
Judging by her age, Oriash wouldn’t have existed if Eurwen hadn’t sacrificed her innocence in that moment.
She takes a little pride and courage in that: just enough to look the younger mare in the face. Eurwen’s dark eyes are searching, hesitant, and wondering if it had been the right thing to say at all. The slippery slope of dark dreams that Eurwen just awoke from, is still there, after all. One misstep and she’s falling again for sure.</div></div></center>
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<center><div class="Wennycontain"><img class="Wennyimg" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ea/37/69/ea3769a9996075ca9173f6b7facc065a.jpg"><div class="Wennyname">Eurwen</div>
<div class="Wennyquote">the secret of walking on water<br>is knowing where the rocks lie</div><div class="Wennygrad"></div><div class="Wennytext">
There is no ending in the endless loop; stuck on the Mountain, but most of all stuck in her own mind, trapped as it were - she doesn’t remember drinking or eating or walking or sleeping, but apparently that’s all she did. In her state of unconsciousness, her body must have done those things to keep her alive, if this was to be called a life at all. Sometimes she has the feeling of drifting, sometimes the feeling of being grounded - but so much that she is stuck where she is, glued to her spot.
Rarely does she see anyone else, and those only from a distance. Most of the time, she feels them. The Mountain is made of the very rock she is mentally attuned to; her beacon, her ground, her home. Through it she can feel every horse that has passed her hiding spot on their way to the fairies, but she doesn’t know who they are or why they come. She doesn’t care either, for in her numb state she cares about nothing and no-one at all.
But from where she stands… hangs more or less, as if she’s a floppy doll with sticks in her legs, put there carefully and she better not move or she would probably fall over. From where she stands as such, she sees only the rocks and low vegetation for a long time.
A gust of wind approaches, and obsidian hooves approach, come into her sight and stay a while away, but they don’t leave. Obsidian. Instantly, the pink-spotted mare is taken back to the place of horror, the place she should never have visited if she had been sound of mind; but she had been too young to understand the danger.
The bay overo mare had gathered most of the young children that had come, tried to protect them. Eurwen had watched the antlered mare be swallowed by a monster, and much like she experienced and out-of-body state right now, she had been beside herself when she’d slain the beasts instead of reasoning with them, to free her. Her and the children she had wanted to protect.
She’d only been a child. She shouldn’t have seen such things.
Following the obsidian hooves up, the resemblance is uncanny. Sure, her spots are of a different pattern. But it’s really the wings that differentiate the young mare before her from the mare who’d been with her in the Cove.
”You’re Kagerus’ child.”
Judging by her age, Oriash wouldn’t have existed if Eurwen hadn’t sacrificed her innocence in that moment.
She takes a little pride and courage in that: just enough to look the younger mare in the face. Eurwen’s dark eyes are searching, hesitant, and wondering if it had been the right thing to say at all. The slippery slope of dark dreams that Eurwen just awoke from, is still there, after all. One misstep and she’s falling again for sure.</div></div></center>