|
|
Post by Rhapsody on May 24, 2011 14:49:00 GMT -5
Azami [/font]_________________________________________________[/center] The mare was still trying to adjust to the darkness. It had been some years since she had last been in the deep recesses of the caves. She had been amazed at her own memory though. Navigating the treacherous canyon had been her biggest concern, but it seemed that between muscle memory and the fleeting images she retained from her foalhood, she'd been able to find and negotiate a safe path down. The caves though, they had proven more difficult than anticipated. They were darker than she remembered, but she supposed the darkness was always greater to one who had spent more time in the light, such as she. Thus, the eerie glow of the spring had been a welcome reprieve from the vast expanse of blackness that had met her throughout the cave's passages. Azami could still hardly believe that she was here though. The pungent smell of her sire flooded her nostrils, tempered here and there by the lighter scent of her sister. None were relatively new scent markings, but it at least evidenced that sometime in the recent past, they had been here. They still lived and breathed, sprung out from the pages of her memory and into real existence.
Azami now regarded the water, her whole body trembling unconsciously as she contemplated touching it. The swim from the islands had been worse than she had imagined. Her gamble had at least paid off in that she had been granted some otherworldly protection and allowed to cross alive. But the pain... it had been severe. Worse even than the actual attack. Her whole body had burned for days and even drinking water now elicited the feeling of drinking fire. Azami feared that this was a symptom that would not soon leave her. She could only hope that with the end of her pregnancy, the symptom too would end. But that was not what was important at the moment; she needed to find Marek. Lowering her head, she briefly drank from the spring (wincing as she felt her throat and stomach burn with the intake of water). Her thirst quenched (physically only; she still yearned for the cool touch of water, but she would not be receiving that any time soon) the mare tried to gain her bearings in the half lit cave, deciding on what her next move would be.
[/size] ________________________________ |
|
|
|
Post by Silver on May 24, 2011 18:54:28 GMT -5
------------------ MAREK ------
He was back for a while; only just to check on things. A knowledgeable stallion was not fool enough to leave his territory unguarded for more than a few weeks. As it was, nothing stirred in his home, no breeze touched the recesses of the caves or the flat surfaces of the rocks. The gorge stood as still as the stone that made up most of it, a dark reminder that he was not meant to move often. He was not meant to be as beautiful or as welcoming as Boaz or his islands. True, the stallion had to make a crossing each time he wished to travel elsewhere, but there was beauty there. Marek was the owner of a cool and concrete territory where the only beauty seemed to lie deep within the caves; it was a reflection of his own personality. He shook out his mane and made for the entrance to the caves. The humid, hot air of the outside cooled considerably once he entered the darkness of the catacombs, but it was damp, and smelled of moss and lichen. He passed one of the proprietors of the smell, its green glow giving him a sickly pallor. The King of the Anemoi had no idea that his long lost daughter was standing at his destination.
At first he only noticed that the glow from the large mushrooms that sprung up around the spring was slightly dimmer. Then he noticed that there was one spot where the light was missing completely. A shadow was cast in his direction, giving him direction to the owner of said shadow. Marek looked up and stiffened. There, basking in the ethereal light was his daughter. Her blue and white coat was stark in the light, and he could see that she was pregnant. It was rather obvious, and bile rose in his throat. She is here to gloat and show off the seed of that wretched Tritone. How dare he couple with my daughter! She may have chosen her side, but to carry the seed of Boaz... Marek gritted his teeth and forced himself to take calm breaths, quietly so as she would not hear him. Bringing his head up and steeling himself, he addressed her in a flat voice. "You're here."
|
|
|
|
Post by Rhapsody on May 24, 2011 19:38:07 GMT -5
Azami [/font]_________________________________________________[/center] She'd been too taken by her thoughts to hear him approaching her, so when his voice rang out in the caves, it was without warning. Shying away from him instinctively, the mare regained her composure, her ears flicking back nervously as she regarded the stallion that her eyes had not set sight on for some years. Momentarily appreciative of the darkness that hid the surprise on her features, she gulped in air, trying to figure out what to say now that she was confronted with the prominent figure from her past. "You don't sound surprised." She settled on at last, holding her ground instead of advancing or retreating. A thought occurred to her briefly, and before she really could consider it she voiced it aloud as a possible explanation for why he did not seem surprised. "Did Erren tell you she had seen me?" Granted, that had been some time ago, before she had been raped by Acheron. Before she had figured things out regarding herself and Boaz. But still. The mare might have passed word on that she was alive and not in Tritone lands.
It was difficult to make him out in the meager light that the setting of their reunion provided. She couldn't tell, in the prominent darkness, whether his face showed signs of aging, or whether he seemed the same as the day she had left. Minor details, unimportant in the scheme of things and yet, these were the things she was contemplating. Foolish really, to contemplate anything not directly regarded to ingratiating herself in the Anemoi herd once more. After all, she'd settled on a plan. She'd stay here, earn back her herd's good graces, birth the foal and wean it then leave. Her excuse could be something along the lines of it being too painful a reminder of her attack to stare at her foal, some rubbish such as that. Then, if all went well, she'd be able to leave still in her family's good graces. And she would return to Boaz. (Unbeknownst to her family, of course.) But she was getting ahead of herself; all of this hinged on regaining her sire's approval. And Marek, if memory served, was not one easily impressed. Holding her head high, the mare tried to hide her own fatigue, knowing it would be viewed as a weakness, even if it was justified. Let's duel father; I inherited your wits, I am more than a match for you. She thought with a brisk flick of her tail.
[/size] ________________________________ |
|
