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Posted on June 5, 2013 at 05:55:07 AM by Mothmohnoh
Pewter Bane’s lapsing memory traced the grounds, his ear feld back with a sunk feeling he was unused to. Was it fair for lands as lush as this to be surrendered to neglect? Each step felt weighed down, emotions capturing everything that was lost within the kingdom he was born in, the kingdom that ended up dying suddenly and swiftly, curtly and forever. Nothing within Athanlor was ever calm. The amber champagne looked vaguely through his white bangs, his steady pace growing slower, more thoughtful by the stride. There were always horses bickering with each other out of nowhere, accusations where they didn’t belong, lies and impersonations thrown out there for no reason. The dark stead halted for a moment. The silence of the evening consumed him like death consumed a corpse; there was no feasible way, no mortal way, to separate the two. It was getting bright, the sky a dull and unattended grey and the air a frigid and indifferent temperature, chilled by the occasional breeze, but aside from that too regular to even notice, should you usually observe weather. Why could not the world get along? If even this small corner of it, what held everyone in such high tensions – such powerful and intrepid insults, remarks, demands, lies. Heck, Pewter had killed a mare before, but never lied, not blatantly, not for the reasons steeds of here were driven to (none). His black hooves scraped the earth again in an uninspired trudge forward. There was nothing familiar about the place. It had been too changed before its death to recognize or to form a lingering image of. One could argue that at least that much was unfair. It was hardly necessary to make something irrevocably deformed before tearing it from someone, burning its existence in an underdone ceremony. He quickened his step toa two beat for the duration of this one hill’s slope. He was at its peek, staring down at the flat, shallow end right before him. Everyone knew that the place was called to die. Everyone knew that there was no way in this good earth that their beloved and devoted work would remain. It would be sapped, in an instant, by lack of simple cooperation. He had been formed here, though. His journey began in these places, these simple, trifling places with their small-town feelings and irresistible community. Since then he had done so much. His heavy form could feel the curve of the null taking place, rounding his gravitational pull into more speed, rushing him to the climax as though it were hiding something there that it didn’t want him to see. He had killed his father, he had found his first love, he had found a new home, he had found desire in a child, his child, should it come to exist. But before all of that, here, is when he had to admit that he felt most whole. Something about relocating never brings back the same lament towards loss, the same fervor towards gain, than your true home had. This was not his true home, but it was meant to be. The widened expanse was meant to be his home. Then, as everyone’s head turned and watched like deer staring at the oncoming car, they supervised this home’s demise. They gave it a good stare as it collapsed into an epileptic shock and gave no response ten minutes later. Pewter Bane took off across the flat finish, the accumulated speed begging him forward, begging him away from the hill and out of the area, out of the grass, out of the earth. No one made much of an effort to bring their herds back here. No one made much of an effort to visit. Actually, that was a lie. People had. People tried. They tried to slip back, past the unforgiving guards and moderators, past the insistent force, that accumulated speed, that tried to keep them away, but either one of two things tended to happen. You’d either not be able to stop the speed and be rushed forth, despite your wishes, or you’d attempt to stop prematurely, tripping over yourself as the constant, yelling force laughed at your efforts and reprimanded your will. He slowed the speedy canter to a halt, breathing deeply despite the stretch of his side’s scars. His breath caused the lingering blond mane to fly from his face, giving him a clear image of the land desolately left to be empty before him. ”Pity you had to go like this… but I suppose it fits for me to have no place to call ‘home’.” Did it fit for the others, though? Again, was this fair? ************************ Age 2 ~ Male ~ Uncommitted ~ Noip |
Replies:
- Re(1): Testin - By Mothmona June 5, 2013 at 06:04:32 PM
- all kindsa tests - By mothmona June 7, 2013 at 00:28:29 AM
- Re(1): all kindsa tests - By Mothmona June 9, 2013 at 09:33:48 PM
- moar tests - By Mothy June 10, 2013 at 11:46:30 PM
- not done yet! - By Mothmona June 12, 2013 at 08:55:10 PM
- moar tests - By Mothy June 10, 2013 at 11:46:30 PM
- Re(1): all kindsa tests - By Mothmona June 9, 2013 at 09:33:48 PM
- all kindsa tests - By mothmona June 7, 2013 at 00:28:29 AM
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