Golden Plains
The haven of dandelions, roses, and daises, there would be no better description of Golden Plains than a touch of gold. It’s as if the fabled King Midas flew down, caressing every flower and leaf. The sun, also a bright gold high in the sky, rains down little drops of more gold, sprinkling it’s magic upon everything within this gemstone of a land.
This land is closed. It is no longer habitable.
triumph through sacrifice
IP: 144.136.128.27
Posted on May 7, 2007 at 02:40:15 AM by SEKHMET
SEKHMET
triumph through sacrifice
The creature of the sands was, for the most part, silent that day. Around her, the earth echoed it’s rejoicing with the springtime, where animals did bask in the splendor of new life. Flourishing from distant trees, so vibrant with green, was the chirping of newborn birds, and their parents effectively. The death of foliage had been swept away by frozen breezes, and left now only the freshly sprouting grass blades and revived bushes and trees. Granted, there were some that would never rise again, and not the foliage, either. As with any passing winter, death was a granted and many equines had fallen, or it had been assumed, anyway. Sekhmet, however, had braved most of the winter on her own, and sometimes with difficulty. Usually, winters in the desert were spent with the herd pretty much all the time. In this land, it didn’t really strike her as a need. Despite smelling many scents around her, of at least 3 other mares, she had not sought them out. Not only were the scents old, but she was vulnerable, and was not prepared to take the risk of socializing with others who might wish to endanger the life of her child. Thus, she had remained on her own. For the most part.
Every now and then, she had felt his presence in the realm, if not briefly before it flittered away again. Understandable I suppose, they were soon expecting foal. But the mare had little to worry about after the winter had ebbed away. Some mares didn’t even make it through that, as it was indeed the harshest of seasons. For Sekhmet, the only surprising thing about it was the snow, and little else. She had fared well, and stuck to her instincts and teachings to stay the winter out. As for the other mares, she had no clue whether they had done the same, or even stayed within the herd lands. She was betting at least one had vanished. The oldest scent she’d picked up, she guessed. It was not too much of a worry for her, however. It was one less mare to deal with when he child came about. Don’t think she wouldn’t say it either. Sekhmet wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to stating her opinion. However, when it came to her plans, she was quite secretive. Possibly so much so that it made her all the more alluring. Something that was, so far, working to her benefit.
When she had been galloping across the fields, she’d taken little notice of those watching her, if any at all. The lioness deity was not particularly observant to that kind of thing. However, she had again felt his presence, much like a predator would, and heard from the echoing surroundings the shuffle of hooves too large to be deer’s. The captor would know, then. She was soon due to give birth to the child. Sekhmet had been feeling it for a while know, it was preparing, with all the connections being made. Even some movement, every now and then. But today, the child was oddly quiet, aside from the unconscious connections being made with it in the womb. It did not shift or struggle, nor kick. For a moment, you could even say the feisty Arabian mare was concerned. Speak child, speak to me. She thought, drawing her muzzle away from her barrel as she eyed the swollen stomach. Usually the child would kick every now and then. When Sekhmet was not moving especially. She was worried now. Snorting lightly, she lipped at her own skin, whuffling to the child within it. Its ok Sekhmet, it is probably sleeping, just leave it for the moment. She reassured herself, her dark brown eyes angled from her dappled pelt to the sound of a creature moving towards her.
Raising her head slightly, and still looking back, she caught the aroma of Evander on the winds, her ears twitching atop her head as she eyed his ingression. The last time she had seen him was in the last few days of the breeding season, Autumn if she recalled correctly. She could still remember the exchange of emotion that day, or rather, lack thereof. It was an emotionless moment for her, a time where instinct blocked out thought, feeling or care. Upbringing had taught her little of gentle touches or affectionate actions. It had taught her only what needed to be known. A stallion, upon claiming a mare, would expect her to bare him a child, exactly what Sekhmet was doing. He would see her as his, which she did allow. What she was not taught was that one would eventually want a bond as well, a topic Sekhmet fell short on. Despite his coldness being half the equivalent of hers, she could tell he had been taken aback by her detachment from him, even then. And yet, she could not understand his reason for being so startled. From what she could gather, she hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d simply withdrawn after the deed was done and left. Fair enough, she had concluded. That was the entire purpose of breeding, after all. Yet as he approached, she could feel something radiating from him, different to the emotion he’d left her with in Autumn. Possessiveness, as it would be known as. More romantic mares would’ve called it protectiveness. Heh, funny word.
Raising her head, Sekhmet let her eyes settle on the approaching male, arching a ‘brow’ as he waded through the tall gold touched grasses. His walk was calm, for the most part, even touched with a bit of warmth, or something of the sort. She was observant of him as he sided her form, and watched with unreadable dark eyes as he brought his build to a stop beside her. It was almost like she was pondering saying something, a hurtful something, and kept it back, although this was not the case. Watching his movements, she felt the caress upon her shoulder, his warmth seeping from his skin and onto hers with something of delicacy. And yet still, she did not move, her head kept high and eyes focused unwaveringly upon his form. Others mares in her position might very well snap at him for his absence, however Sekhmet did not. One because it was not something she saw worthy of snapping at and two because even if it was, her unreadable stare was probably punishment enough. Eventually however, she gave a nudge to his neck in greeting, lips dragged lightly along a patch of fur before being taken from it, her ears perked to alertness as he spoke his words.
She was quiet as the breeze swept past, her eyes moved to his face before she chose to speak, her tones as they always were, accented. “I fare well, for a mare with child...” She murmured, her eyes half lidded with a cunning glance. It was soon after she peered at her swollen stomach, her gaze fonder upon thinking of the creature inside it. It should be due soon. Looking back to Evander, Sekhmet lipped at his forelock, tugging it lightly. “And what of you, sahib? Have the winter months treated you well?” She inquired with some kind of subliminal emphasis on months there. Obviously he must’ve done something during that time, and she was curious as to what.
While she waited for his reply, her head was turned towards the fields stretched before her, traveling across the clear expanse and beyond the knoll on which they stood. She observed the rolling waves of golden foliage, entranced by its movements in the long moment. At least she could imagine it was the rolling dunes of Arabia, with its calm impression.
However, it would seem tranquility was cut short and abruptly so by a sudden swift kick, far more painful than any other experienced before. The child wanted out. Giving a sharp gasp of pain, the mare dropped her head hard, tucking it to her neck as a shake rattled through her torso. Again, the child lashed out at the walls of her womb, and again, a sharp intake of oxygen was taken. Sekhmet’s stomach was doing back flips, her limbs shaking, her barrel aching with the shifting of the child. Never had she expected it to move with such demanding force. Baring her teeth, and with one eye squinted in pain, she glanced up at Evander, her neck quivering at the tensing of muscle. One look screamed shock and pain, expression held with strength as she bit back the urge to yell out. “The child…” She gasped, eyes shutting tight as another kick resounded. From there, her front legs caved, bringing the silver deity to her knees as the swollen stomach swelled. She did not have time to move, the child was coming, whether she was ready or not.
The hind was the next to lower, and quickly with the urgency the child was pressing on its mother. It kicked again, causing the mother to throw her head to the sky, giving a frustrated cry of withheld pain. She would not scream in agony. Her upbringing refused to allow her to crumble. She herself would feel disgraced by doing so. “Evander, move.” She snarled through gritted teeth, staring up at him with a pain filled glare. But not for long. A contraction racked her torso, forcing her head to the ground as the agony ripped across her body, neck outstretched upon the ground as she thrashed her legs. Pain, overwhelming pain. With ears laid back against her head she settled briefly, taking in sharp, quick breaths as the next wave of contractions started. Her muscles tensed, pushing, pushing for the child to leave her. And with the first push, 3 quarters of the forelegs were able to be seen, black in color and fogged by the sack in which the foal was contained. But the mother was unable to focus on the trivial things, such as what the color of her foal was. All she knew was that it hurt, and badly. Another contraction, another sharp inhale, another push and the head and partial shoulders were visible. Oh it tore, it burnt and ripped, and by god it was painful. She wanted it out. Now.
With a muffled scream of frustration, she gave it another push, and yet to her horror, it did little. The foal moved three inches, at the most, having one of its wider parts of the torso still there. Sekhmet cried out in anger, eyes shut tight as the pain bit viciously at her hind quarters. For Ra’s sake, leave child! She screamed in her mind, looking to her stomach with heavy breaths before laying her head back against the earth, breathing in deep as she gave it one last push. And with it, the child finally breached, it’s glossy form sliding out onto the grasses and breaking the sack. And with it, was Sekhmet’s relief. Taking in a few deep, shaking breaths, she lifted her head from the ground, gazing tiredly to the mass behind her tail. Every part of her screamed exhaustion, and yet, she did not sleep, instead sat in awe at what lay at her rump. A beautiful, glossy black foal. Whickering in rejoiced, if not weakly, she edged her nose towards it, nostrils dilated as she took in its scent. It was the child. The creature she had bonded with, the one she had carried. Whuffling to it, she looked upon Evander, a tired half smile emerging on her lips. Even with her detachment upon conceiving, this was a joyous moment. It was her child. No, their child. Something that had come so far. In rejoice, she nudged at the stallion’s leg, affectionately almost, before looking back to the newborn.
It was so precious, so utterly beautiful.
Nudging its rump again, she watched it take its first breath, expand its lungs for the first time, opening large, beautiful dark brown eyes and peering out at the world. Her child, her beautiful ebony child. His face was dished so beautifully, though not completely, it was beautiful. He bore no white markings, a pure black, and so pristine. Sekhmet could not compare the moment to anything ever before experienced. Something that brought so much pain had finally come to a beautiful finish. “Sed…” She murmured, nipping at the colt’s forelock as it squirmed to look upon its mother, giving a squeak of surprise and curiosity at the appearance of Sekhmet. Unlike most, she would not rest, not until the child had fed. It was her duty to care for the being, and she would honor it. Sighing, and with a firm stance, she rose, stabilizing herself before she turned around, gazing upon her offspring, which still laid upon the ground, peering up at her in wonder. It was her first child.
Their first child.
name // SEKHMET
age // FIVE
gender // FEMALE
breed // ARABIAN
hue // DAPPLED GREY
played by // NIGHTSHADE
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Blah, no worries, I completely understand. I'm sorry I couldn't reply sooner. Went on a writers camp and only got the chance to reply today. x[ And I'm sorry for putting you through that^ trainwreck.
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