Common

Kore runs pell-mell through the trees. Branches snag her mane and tail, yanking out bits of black and white hair, and drag their pointed tips across her skin, splitting her flesh with many little cuts. Any other time, she'd feel the sting of them, the persistent burn only shallow wounds seemed to carry, but she doesn't notice them. Nothing can penetrate the ice around her consciousness - not the landscape as it shifts around her, or the end of the snowfall, or the clearing of the sky above, the sun blinding as it reflects upon the remnants of the clouds it's chased away. The only thing she has is the roaring of the wind, icy-cold, in her ears; the pound of her heart in her chest; and the thoughts that race farther than she ever could on her own four hooves.

How could she have let her temper get the best of her? How could she give Xiomara that power over her, to provoke her into an outburst her own dam would have dismissed as childish? Demeter isn't even here and yet Kore feels her judgement all the way across the ocean, half-lidded and leering. Disappointing, she would say. Not fitting behavior for a Queen. Are you sure you deserve to wear that crown, girl?

The Arabian snorts, tossing her head in a vain attempt to clear the thoughts sticking like burrs in her mind. Maslakhat slides in to take Demeter's place, right where she'd left him, the back of his golden head stark against the brightness of the rising desert sun. She can hear his sigh clear as a bell, his parting words a knife between her narrow shoulders, casting her aside like trash. A shame. The wintry air sinks further into her, stiffening her gait, and with her warmth goes her righteous fury, leaving nothing but doubt and a bone-deep melancholy in its wake.

Only when her vision blurs, lashes clumping together, does Kore skitter to a stop, and only then does she realize it is not sweat that freezes tracks down her narrow features, but tears, and that the gasps stealing her breath from her lungs are sobs.

"Ugh," she mutters, rubbing her face on her leg to scrape away the icicles. Stupid. She hears the insult in a million different voices, her own the loudest of them all. She takes a few stuttering steps, hissing at the burn in her muscles. Already she shivers, the sweat on her coat wicking away what little body heat remains within her small frame. "S-stupid girl," she self-scolds through chattering teeth, forcing herself to walk forward. "S-stupid, ignorant, f-foolish v-v-village g-"

The sound of scuffling reaches her, and her voice dies in her throat, snuffed by panic.

Kore's gaze combs frantically over her surroundings. She expects Xiomara more than anyone, come to penalize her for her insolence, and hopes - though she'll never admit it, lest her dreams crumble into dust - for Aidoneus. Mist rolls towards her, yards away, and when she reaches it, surprise flashes plain over her delicate features. A stallion - not hers, dark and unyielding like the rock face from which she'd fled, but sandy, blanched with white and prone amongst the snow and leaf litter. Her brown eyes meet his, blue as the heavens, and she stumbles back, confused. "Oh," she blurts, her voice still wet with unshed emotion. "I'm - I'm s-sorry, I -"

She takes a breath, trying to steady herself, and recoils at the iron scent of blood that fills her nostrils. Only then does she notice the crimson staining the snow at his crown, trickling in thin drops across his temple. The dam she'd built bursts, disintegrating at the slightest pressure, and her whimpering comes unbidden and uncontrollable, horror turning to searing guilt. "I'm sorry," Kore repeats, taking another step back. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry," as if it is a prayer, a way to absolve herself, to atone for the sins that had turned her into the monster she'd become. "Forgive me," she begs between sobs, feeling smaller than ever, and waits with her head bowed and her lids clamped shut for the punishment she deserves.

She doesn't know how, exactly, but she doesn't need to. Somehow, someway, as everything else in her life up to this point, this is all her fault.