The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on June 20, 2016 at 04:44:55 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."

For a moment, the mare is able to forget about her current situation -- about the looming threat from Vodnik that hovers over Paradise like a dark thunderstorm cloud. Macabre can't think and she can't sleep because she's so sick over it. She's avoiding Ailill at every turn, but fearful and watchful for the beckoning call of the draft breed from the neighboring territory. She has a terribly bad feeling about what was to come. She could feel from the stern look she saw in that stallion's eye that he would make good on his promise one day. He would come for her. And Ailill would be the one to pay for it.

It was the waiting that drove her mad. She was so tired of not being in control of her own fate that it made her want to gallop straight into the waves at the shoreline and swim into the deep ocean until her body gave out. She was someone. She was no one's trinket. But no one cared. Except, maybe, Ailill.

So Macabre dives into the conversation with Jetta head first. She needed this, a moment to focus on someone other than herself. She smiles as she watches Jetta take it all in. She feels a brief sense of ownership over the place. Macabre had, after all, lived here longer than the Peak by now. "It is very different. It's been a nice reprieve to stay somewhere so warm. Did you know it never snows here?"

Macabre moves slowly through the crystal clear waters, the rushing sound of the liquid pooling at her ankles with every gentle stroke she takes. Eventually she reaches the edge where Jetta is standing. But the mare is no longer smiling. Something in the way Jetta speaks about her absence in the Peak doesn't sit right in her stomach. But Jetta is right -- she never fought to come back to the Peak. Instead she settled here, she did what she was told when stallion after stallion came in and found her here alone. She has never stuck up for herself after all this time, even when all she wanted to do was go home to the Peak. "It's not that I'd rather be here. I miss the Peak terribly some days..." Macabre's voice trails off as she struggles to find a way to convey how she was feeling. She wonders if she should tell Jetta about her recent visit, about how she went looking for her there and couldn't find her. "I guess life just took me another way."

She flicks her tail across her haunches, the damp blonde ends hitting her legs with a dull thwack. "Tell me, how is the Peak these days? How is your mother? And tell me everything you've been up to!"





"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




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