Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
it is a good dream Posted on October 24, 2020 at 04:41:10 AM by Darshan
In her muddled state, the kathiawari did not immediately recognise the stallion who approached her. But he spoke her name, and it sounded so gentle upon his lips. Darshan knew him, and, wading through her internal grief and relinquishing her solitude, she found him. “Roheryn,” she whispered weakly, a flicker of brightness shining in her eyes. But then her heart quivered and dropped when he spoke again, and she felt the terrible truths she had to tell as a burden across her narrow shoulders. Once upon a time, she might have beseeched the heavens imploringly and said it is too much for me to carry but insight and the passing of time had drawn all self-doubt from the moon-pale mare.
But not, as would soon be revealed, all uncertainty.
“Life, she said by way of response, an honest answer, meant to soften to blow. Life happened, things changed and -- “Shamwari is gone. Swam to the mainland. Jabari too.” The delicate mare shivered, her very blood running cold as for the first time, she spoke of what was perhaps the rawer of her losses aloud. “Sanibel, she-” Darshan broe off, her eyes welling with tears so that the beautifully gentle face of Roheryn was veiled from her by her own sorrow. “She is at peace. No more suffering. She was found by... Larka?”
Another voice called her name, and Darshan fell still and silent at the sound. Her eyes widened as the grey figure of her beloved friend appears from the darkness, and for a moment, the perlino simply stared, as if she could not be sure whether Larka was truly there, or whether she was just a mist-and-shadow dream. If it was a dream, then it was a good dream. A blissful smile lit Darshan’s whole face up. But then there was warm breath upon her shoulder, and a desperate touch upon her neck (as if Larka, too, wondered whether this is real, their being together, when all else seemed lost to them).
The contact between them was electric, and sent Darshan surging to her hooves with renewed strength. “Larka, Larka,” the kathiawari crooned, “daro mat priy ek; don't be afraid, dear one.” But even in her consoling of the grey, realisation dawned gradually upon the steady, surefooted mare, just as dawn crept upon the horizon. Three thoughts crowd out all else. The first filled her with hope; the joy she felt upon this unexpected reunion dulled the aching of her heart. The second filled her with shame - how could she have been so selfish and foolish to have fled from even Larka? And the third almost transcended belief.
Her son, Shingwedzi, whose entrance into this world had nearly claimed Darshan’s life, was key to her understanding of this life changing revelation. She had taken his deep love of two other mares as a bond formed by the tender affection and care they’d bestowed upon him in Darshan’s place while she recovered. So strong the colt’s love had been, that it had pulled him back and forth between Thicket and Prairie during the darkest days of the war, because Larka didn’t have it in her to leave their home, and Shingwedzi couldn’t leave her. Even now, he grieved so deeply for the loss of Sanibel, for she had been a mother to him, just as Larka had. But it was more than that. He loved them as he loved Darshan.
In a place that Darshan would never lay eyes on again in this life, she had shared a deeply rooted belief of hers (that perhaps very few would ever understand, and even less could fully comprehend) with her young daughter. For the briefest of times, my mother was bound to me by her Greatest Love. And in recent times, Darshan had born witness to Vihaan’s own discovery, that there was one who meant more to her above all else. For Vihaan, it was Everglow. And for Darshan, it was Shamwari.
But what a fool she had been, to think that her heart was incapable of loving any other soul with the same intensity, to believe that her greatest adventure had drawn to a close. What she had taken as loyalty to her family, and the desire to support her daughter and son - it was these that she believed kept her here. But Vihaan was grown, and had proven herself capable. As for Shingwedzi, he lacked the fire of his sister, but he was finding himself, and he had his whole life ahead of him. And so did she. Nothing was over.
The innocence of youth revealed so much.
Darshan bowed her head, the frantic words of Larka tearing at the very heart of her. “Forgive me Larka,” came the tremulous plea. “I did not think, I did not see.” And she fell into the grey mare’s embrace, cleaving to Larka’s side, drawing her familiar scent in, and finding a profound comfort in this nearness, not knowing until that very moment how much she’d needed it. In his own way, perhaps, Shingwedzi had known all along - Darshan had told him of Mahaanatam Prem. He’d had no questions of his own (you will find yours, beta, your reason for living, she’d assured him), but his gaze had oft drifted toward Larka and Sanibel, if either or both of them were nearby. He loved them as he loved Darshan herself, because perhaps he sensed in each of them what Darshan did not. They, like Shamwari, held pieces of the kathiawari's heart. They had, ever since they’d led her back from the brink of death.
Blessed, she was thrice blessed. One Love had left, one Love was lost, but there was one Love that remained, and Darshan would never let her go.
It rendered her weightless with relief, and that which bound her to Larka grounded her. No longer was she lost, choosing to be left behind. Darshan sobbed into the tresses of Larka’s mane. “You have my love for always Larka, and I will stay with you.” The love she spoke of was more than love. It encompasses all things, and was not so easily defined, nor so limited as as the concept as many understood it. The love of a mother for their child. The love one mate for another. The love between sisters. It was all these things and more.
However, the very next moment, a fear ran through her so deeply and strongly that Darshan felt her legs almost buckle with the intensity of it. She pulled away from Larka, and turned to Roheryn, eyes softening with guilt a moment, before flashing with the fiery determination that had long lain dormant with her. “Sorry, I am so sorry Roheryn. But there is no time. This place, it is not safe. I should not have come, led Larka into danger.” There was a desperation in her voice, husky with emotion. “You must take her to safety, protect her, please, for me.” A ragged breath, and a shake of her head, blue eyes still bright with remnants of tears became wide and wild. “I am tired, so tired. But please, take her home, so I can find my way back.”
perlino dun ~ kathiawari ~ 14 hands