The Lost Islands
CLICK FOR IMAGE CREDITS


Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on December 24, 2015 at 05:42:31 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."


After so many things -- After Shiraz's death, after Dexter won her in battle, and after she betrayed Dogun, Macabre realized she was probably best on her own. Though she thoroughly enjoyed the time and camaraderie she experienced in the Peak, she knew she could never be a reliable member of the herd. She couldn't contribute to the general good there like the rest of them. There were too many factors dictating her life that she couldn't control. She missed them dearly, Jetta, especially. But this was for the best.

It was a realization that had taken nearly a lifetime to come to. After the Great Flood that killed her parents and washed away her homeland, Macabre wandered for the rest of her life. She was constantly seeking shelter and safety, willing to give up nearly everything for it in her younger years. But after years of abuse and neglect from stallion after stallion, the Peak was the only place she really ever truly felt safe. Well, after Midas that is. But it's been a long time since the Quarry washed away along with the Shore. The isles here have never been the same.

So Paradise is where she stayed after Vaaco dragged her here and after Strack abandoned her next. Ailill was young and foolish in his naivety in many ways, but Macabre was hopeful. He was still so young and so innocent. Perhaps there was still time for her to help mold him into the stallion he was growing to be. Perhaps in this way, she'd have some sort of contribution to a better life for the mares that came to live here after her. That Ailill would consider their minds and not just their bodies. That they would have roles greater than just being breeders to carry on his lineage. And in the meantime, she'd enjoy the quiet jungle and the year-round warm temperatures. For as long as it would last.

Tarrant had a old soul look to him. He seemed tired, but stoic and noble without effort. He had seen things, clearly, during his lifetime. But there was void there Macabre recognized. Probably because she too had one of her own. Knowing that he had been here alone, like her, for some time, and probably for much longer than she, connected her to him in some way. He understood the solitude. He craved it, like her, whether for good reasons or bad. "No, we haven't met." Macabre spoke, lobes flicking forward and back as Ailill ran circles around them. She couldn't help but smile at the colt's exuberance. She silently wished for him to never lose the light within. "But I've felt you here for a long time."

"I'm Macabre."




"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




Replies:

Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Link Name:
Link URL:
Image URL:
Password To Edit Post:







<-- -->