e n c a n t a d o r
The figure was as pale and frail as a ghost, and just as quiet and unobtrusive. For a long while Encantador stood watching it, only half-aware that he was doing so. It seemed to him that he was merely looking at a figment of his imagination, for after living in the desert alone for several weeks, he had come to realize just how easy it was to be fooled by illusions in such a harsh, bleak land. The figure was like his father reincarnated, though sleeker, gaunter, and dancing with the shimmers of heat waves though in actual fact it was as still as a rock.
The longer he stood watching it, however, the longer he became aware of his own bodily needs. His thin body, while no longer gaunt with malnutrition, nonetheless complained of hunger, and he knew well enough that once he had eaten he would need to drink also. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was much more desperate for some fresh, clean water than anything. Letting his eyes wander briefly, he prepared himself to turn back and find the oasis that would provide all his needs, but as he looked at the blueness of the sky, the hardness of the sun-baked land, and the undulating of the slate grey ocean, they all seemed so tangible and real.
Why then, was this illusion persisting? He decided to investigate.
He strolled towards it at an easy walk, his hooves scuffing across the dusty, sandy earth, with the sun warming his cream-colored back. As he grew closer the saltiness of the sea seemed to cling to his nostrils, and the breeze grew wilder, cooler: a welcome respite from the heat. But the figure, gaunt and pale, remained, and soon enough, distinctive features came into view. It was female, it was young, very young - just past the brink of maturity - and it had strangely bi-colored eyes, one golden-brown and one as green as... as...
His heart stopped, and his legs seized up, holding him in place, just a few strides away from what was now very clearly a real mare. She was the spitting image of his sire, but for her gauntness and that odd-colored eye... Though he was certain he had never seen her before in his life, the sense of deja vu was so strong, so overwhelming, that Encantador felt fear and confusion permeating every inch of his thin frame. Poised to flee, but with brown eyes curious and ears pricked forward, the young stallion held his breath a few moments before speaking quietly, as though any loud noise might shatter this mirage.
"Hello... Do... do I know you? You look so like... someone I once knew."
el barroco x writhe | four | dunskin | 15.1 | mustang | shiva |