The Lost Islands
CLICK FOR IMAGE CREDITS


Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on February 28, 2016 at 11:41:46 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 slender chestnut mare let out a long, low exhale when the stallion's voice breaks but a moment's bit of silence. She can feel the gentle tremble of the earth with every looming, heavy-footed stride he took in her wake. Vodnik did not seem like the kind of stallion who would take rejection kindly. But the tone of his voice, and his next choice of words were not what Macabre predicted would come after she so brashly walked away from him. The thin mare knew that he wouldn't just let her leave. But she had to try, whatever the consequences.

But Vodnik didn't come after her with hostility. Instead, he seemed to be pleading with her, of all things. She stopped obediently when he commanded her to, perhaps against her better judgment. But the mare did not turn to the face him. Chocolate lobes lay flat against her skull as he spoke, her eyes focusing on the empty trail ahead. She watched the leaves of the brush bend and flutter in the passing breeze. She briefly thought of Paradise, of the boisterous jungle which came alive at night with the hum and buzz of the creatures that dwelled there with the herd. She thought of the roar of the ocean that echoed through its canopy. She had spent so many nights alone there.

Vodnik offered her something she had heard many times before. She didn't need nor really want his protection. The mare stayed silent, reacting only to a pesky fly at her haunches with a quick swipe of her blonde tail. When the stallion finally offers up his ultimatum, she snorts. Macabre turns swiftly to face him now, ears still pinned. Her dark, marbled eyes are wide as she studies him, unsure of how to read him. "You're right. Ailill is quite young." She says curtly. Her mind is racing now, trying to find a strategy in which she can fix this series of unfortunate mishaps. What she didn't understand was why Vodnik cared so much. He could have any mare he wanted from the Crossing. She could smell several others who lived here with him. "Why can't you just let this go?"

She surprised herself when the words left her mouth. But now they were out there, and saw no other recourse but to stand behind them. So she waited, with a stern look upon her face, for an answer. The mare's external appearance looked far braver than she felt inside. Internally, she felt guilty and stupid and awful about the potential blow back that was about to fall upon Ailill for a simple mistake she made crossing into Vodnik's territory. Deep down, she knew it was bound to happen to Ailill eventually. Hell, it would probably be good for him. But she never envisioned -- or wanted to be -- at the heart of it.




"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:






<-- -->