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Open  Dying of the light
Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 7 yrs  Stallion
 19.0 hh  2100 lbs
3 Posts 55 points
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Posted on Jan 07 2018, 2:02 AM.
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#1

 
"I shall be their Atlas and carry the world,
even if I collapse beneath the weight of it.”


Life poured from his mouth like ichor from a god’s veins. Divinity left like a quiet essence and he feels the sting of hollowness in his stone encased bones. His time upon the mantel has slipped away like daylight, fleeting in the cold simmering light of dusk. Regulus does not know his place or himself anymore. There is no cause, no godly calling to awaken him this time. There merely is the quiet echo of the ocean striking against the tide, a dance as old as the sunrise. 

Regulus can see the dying daylight and his stone eyes stare out at the cascade of colors painting the horizon. Perhaps another age he might’ve been moved at the sight but even the sunset loses it’s sheen with so many he’s seen. All that lingers is an ash coated tongue and eyes that have wept too many times to shed tears. Once his cries shattered heavens and toppled crowns, once his blood had been a sacrifice and now he’s a nameless statue that is withering in the dying light. 

Could he drown, he muses. Would it be as easy as wandering into the tide’s embrace and sinking to the bottom or is this stone prison going to hold him to life? He almost scoffs at himself. When has he been so quick to prance into the arms of death? Centuries ago when his heart had been weakened by grief it was easy to let the arrows plunge into his hide, because then there was a light to embrace him on the other side. Such light has dimmed just as the dawn and now he merely stands at the edge of the beach, listening to the ageless echo of the waves with hues of oncoming twilight plastered across his stone skin. 





Rogue

Aggressor
 Adult, 8½ yrs  Mare
 16.0 hh  1300 lbs
106 Posts 1,645 points
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Posted on Jan 07 2018, 7:52 AM.
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#2


But the pack survives
       

It was rare for the Wolf to travel so far from her hold. 

In truth, it had been months--dare she say years--since she had ventured this far from the Eternal Wood; but the home in which she inhabited now was haunted by the ghosts of those she failed. One by one, they dropped like stars from the night sky to burn out hot and grow cold in a void of nothing. It had been the Gypsy King who brought the woman back from hostile savagery, back to the place among the living, the civilized. In all honesty, even if Etain was loathe to admit it, Vander had saved her from herself. He saw the light that dwelled in her still, never ceasing to try and pull it back to the forefront of her being. And what had happened to him? 

The dynasty of the Wood had died in the hands of a Heretic Queen. 

The cosmos had never been friendly to Etain. Happiness eluded her, it remained always just out of her grasp to taunt and mock her attempts at grabbing it. She should have expected it, she shouldn't have been so naive. After her King's death, Etain had clung to her friend, and she too had perished not long after. The gods above had taken her to their sides and now even the night sky had a reminder of a dear soul no longer present among the living. She was surrounded, Etain was; all places in all things were reminders of the people she could not save. But the one that had been the most devastating was Zuriel. 

All the things she'd meant to say, all the things she couldn't; they lay now unheard and never to be heard. He had done something she couldn't say she'd do herself if roles had been reversed--the old man had given his life to ward off the would-be usurper so that she and her newborn could be at peace. He didn't have to do it, he could have run with his tail between his legs. After all, would that not be what she had deserved? After what she had done to her own father? Yet even being so estranged as they were, Zuriel proved he had always loved her with his last actions. No words could ever describe the torrent of emotion it brought forth in Etain. 

She closes her eyes for a moment, unable to bear it. A pale tear streaks from her silver eye, but she allows no more to fall. Etain has cried enough, tears were for the weak. The sounds of the ocean were calming enough, soothing she may add, and it brought a sense of comfort she cannot deny. Her lands in Arkana had been close to the northern-most shore, packed with ice and debris. Often she visited the black sandy shores and walked along the paths of ice and rock. It brought a sense of calm to the hurricane swirling around in her mind every waking hour of the day. 

As she opens them once more in the rays of the dying light, a blot of un-color catches her attention. From afar she can only make out the simplest of details, noting the crimson of a cape that draped off the stranger's shoulders. Scent told her this person was male by make. Silver stares forward, unable to decide if she should approach or simply leave---company was not in her plans. In fact, Etain had come here to be alone, if she were truthful of her own intentions. The Wood, though small in number, felt compact and claustrophobic. 

The Wolf is drawn past the stranger, gaze fixing on the sun. The colors are vibrant, damn them for reminding them of her fallen brethren; she holds the emotions back to the best of her abilities and hides them behind her apathetic mask. Only the silvery eyes of the Queen betray the hurt. 

Regulus Rex
 




Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 7 yrs  Stallion
 19.0 hh  2100 lbs
3 Posts 55 points
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Posted on Jan 07 2018, 9:35 PM. (Edited: Jan 07 2018, 9:37 PM by Regulus Rex.)
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#3

 
"I shall be their Atlas and carry the world,
even if I collapse beneath the weight of it.”


Regulus can see another strut onto the shore. His pale eyes turn towards her, perhaps the only sign of life from his statuesque stillness other than the billowing of his cape. For the moment he merely watches the mare that struts across his path. Silence hangs thick in the air and he decides not to break it. Both of his eyes return to the horizon and it is tempting to return back to his statuesque state and merely let himself wither in the spot he’s found. 

 Still, he almost feels his curiosity pique at the mare that has wandered to his path. This level of interaction leaves a sense of unease and discomfort. This is not his element. Whatever sadness that ebbs off this mare falls on blind eyes and Regulus latches onto the apathetic façade. It is an easy way to dismiss any polite gestures and it does not seem she has much interest in conversation.. For the moment he leaves her be, letting his mind wander before he can’t help but inch closer to the water.

He stares down and watches as it hits his feet but there is no feeling there. It is a heavy thought to think that he cannot remember the feeling of water washing against his flesh, or the gentle wind billowing through his hair. He tries to ignore the stranger but there is still an awkwardness hanging over him that he can’t shake, a sense of rudeness at his casual feigned ignorance to her presence.

After he exhales Regulus finally turns his head towards her and watches. “If I am intruding on an attempt at solitude I am happy to depart,” he finally lets his deep vocals slip out and then he merely waits for a dismissal and prepares for a quiet exit. 



Rogue

Aggressor
 Adult, 8½ yrs  Mare
 16.0 hh  1300 lbs
106 Posts 1,645 points
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Posted on Jan 21 2018, 7:21 PM. (Edited: Jan 21 2018, 7:22 PM by Etain.)
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#4


But the pack survives
       

Etain had almost missed the words of the stranger. 

In truth, she had shoved his existence in this space from the back of her mind. Lost in thought, uncommon for the Wolf, her silver gaze once more rests upon the statue-like man. Silence falls, she allows it to sink into her very bones before words can find her. Yet even then, she hesitates--does she seek true solitude? Or was she simply looking for someone detached from herself to find a spark to reignite her hope in humanity? Quickly she pushes such idiotic ideals aside, almost visibly retching from the sheer incompetence of such a thought; Etain did not care. 

Nothing mattered but her son. 

"If anything, it is I who have disturbed your solitude." Her voice is raspy, harsh, befitting a woman with such feral aesthetic. For a moment, silver turns to the sun once more to collect her thoughts. "I do apologize if my presence has given offense." Now there was a rare thing; the Wolf hardly let apology slip past her tongue. She had learned to never bend a knee, never take back what had been done or said regardless of regret. What is wrong with you? she things briefly, but allows herself a breath or two. "If I may be so bold--what brings you here? You don't strike me as an Elysian native."

Though far enough still, there was a certain air about the stranger that told her of something else. But what this other something was fell short upon her understanding. Etain thinks back to all the realms she'd been in, all the places she'd traveled--the ones where she ruled, the ones where she was nothing but a story fading into legend--and yet no where can she recall this stranger. She had met many a person, even one similar to him; What had his name been? The boy who had come to her chambers so late in the eve, and she so young. But he had been different than this one--this one felt older. Her intuition had struck a deep nerve, yet the Wolf knew better than to make her assumptions entirely known. 

Regulus Rex sorry for the wait >>

 






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