The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on November 30, 2015 at 04:13:53 PM by Macabre




"If Love himself weep, shall not lovers weep,
learning from what sad cause he pours his tears?
Love hears his ladies crying their distress,
showing forth bitter sorrow through their eyes
because villainous Death has worked its cruel
destructive art upon a gentle heart,
and laid waste all that earth can find to praise
in a gracious lady, save her chastity."


The trek to Atlantis was a blur. The petite mare moved with choppy, awkward steps, her mind clearly not in the right space to be making such a strenuous trip at such a time. Throughout the swim, Macabre kept looking back, rich brown eyes wide and searching the empty depths around her for answers she knew would not come. Macabre could feel him here. The reaper. It made her shudder in her skin.

Days went by and she had not seen Vaaco since their brief exchange at the common gates. He wasn't exactly the man she thought he was, but then again, few ever were. The longer she stayed here -- toiling around the jungle-like terrain by her lonesome -- the more it clear to became that she had made a mistake. Vaaco took advantage of her in a vulnerable state. He made empty promises to get her back here, and now that she was here, he had forbidden her to leave. Her heart sank upon realizing this. She had been duped again by a stallion. She was so willing to trust anyone that would shield her from her looming past and possibly alter the path of what would likely lead to a dreadful future. She was afraid she'd never learn to stand on her own, that she'd learned nothing from her brief time among the Vulcans.

The haze of what had caused her to wash upon the shore of the common fields had not lifted. Macabre still had no answers for what drug her there nor what had happened during her unconscious state. The young mare never shared these details with Vaaco or anyone else, not even Jetta at the Peak. She was afraid of the answers that might come if she did.

Macabre grazed by her lonesome on the tough reeds that grew along the dunes near the shore. A slender lobe flicked back and forth as she listened to the crashing waves in the distance. She must admit, she'd been abandoned in far worse places. Winter was upon them and the temperatures were still warm and humid here. Lush, green vegetation was easy to find. Though the lack of company made the days dull and the nights long.





"Hear then how Love paid homeage to this lady;
I saw him weeping there in human form,
observing the stilled image of her grace;
and more than once he raised his eyes toward Heaven,
where that sweet soul already had its home,
which once, on earth, had worn enchanting flesh."

Macabre | 6 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




OOC: Repost from below, but she's still hanging around here.


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