IP: 98.193.189.21
Posted on August 14, 2011 at 09:12:42 PM by Dagrun
 |
|
It had been a long time since her breath had not drawn in a haze of dust, the tiny and infinitely numerous particles shredding her lungs with miniscule ruthlessnes. But now she knew that the desert had ended, and another land was presented before her. Her knees shook as she bowed her head to taste the snowflakes that dusted the ground ever-so-lightly, and a tumble of dark mane fell around her face and trailed in snow, each strand creating its own pattern on the surface. Patterns, secrets, runes...Dagrun. Yes, that was her name. Day-secret. Her coat was the soft gold of the evening sun, her feet and mane and tail the scintillating deep black of the unknown universe. It was hard to tell how old she was, for the long days of walking had stolen the edge of her youth if she still posessed it. But she was no crone, no...she walked with the wisdom and confidence of a mare in her prime. Narrow scars traversed her hide, a hide that rippled across a landscape of muscle with fluid ease—and then caught on the rough edges of her bones, for she was thin. Even were she not half wasted-away, no one had ever called her beautiful. Striking, yes. Elegant in a mercenary kind of way, but never quite graceful. They had called her other things, too. “Not-quite-sane” was one of the more polite terms. She did not know if it was true (for it is impossible to judge one’s own sanity), but she didn’t really have any objection to it if it was in fact true. She knew that she didn’t always have the thoughts that others did, the linear, common, easy thoughts and ways of looking at things both abstract and material. The way she saw it, your own self was the one thing in all the world that you should never call your enemy. Your own self… Fritz barely restrained himself from jumping on her head and perching in her mane, for which kindness she sent a faint whisper of thanks. It was still a strange feeling, knowing that a part of herself was now split from her body, a piece of her grown its own fur and its own tail and its own beady little eyes…oh those beady little eyes, they were rather disturbing. The squirrel seemed to be the most “not-quite-sane” part of her…and yet she didn’t feel any more sane now that that part was separated from her. She recognized the presence of other equines. Her body twisted, the muscles stretched tight over rib and limb and flat, sun-warmed cheek, ears swiveling rapidly. Her weight shifted to her haunches, and she felt the earth hold her. Earth and roots and stones that sliced down, down, into the dark places that not even the earthworms knew, forming the runes that bound the world together and kept it from flying to pieces in the empty vastness of the universe. Not many creatures knew that there was always that potential, for the world to fly to pieces. Or if they knew, they spent their lives trying to deny it. But she, Dagrun, knew that it was true. And if such a thing were to happen, at least, it would be beautiful. She sensed three others, two male, one female. She raised her head high while Fritz twined around her legs and almost tripped her. She put on her no-nonsense face and called out in a stern voice, “HALT! Who goes there! I am Dagrun, and I WILL eat you if you try anything.”  |
Replies:
- Let some laughter chase away our tears - By Amren August 15, 2011 at 02:12:00 AM
Charging towards the unknown entity - By Dizalgah & Riaha August 16, 2011 at 07:38:52 PM
the ultimate contact high - By ETHER & GWENYTH August 19, 2011 at 09:13:43 PM