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.
There were no answers to be found in the grey world that greeted Sabriel’s gaze. No hope clinging to the naked and budless branches; no promise that she might cling to. In fact, save for that which was cold and lifeless— the snow, the wind, the moon’s silver light— there was nothing at all. But the silver black kept searching anyway, if only because it gave her something to do. Because it was easier to look anywhere but at the brindle stallion beside her, even when the silence grew as heavy and cold as the white blanket beneath their hooves. But out of the corner of one eye, the slender mare watched the strange— no, Rafe— turn to contemplate the meadow as well. And she couldn’t help but wonder what he saw— whether its emptiness might mean something different to him. Perhaps, to him, it only represented peace.
As if in answer to her unspoken question, a flow of softly-spoken syllables part the bay’s lips. He talked about how distance could not repair what was broken; how it could actually make the burdens their kind bear heavier. And though she couldn’t find her own voice, Sabriel exhaled her breath in a sibilant sigh that agreed with him nevertheless. She’d left the Cove twice, and both times it’d only twisted her life into more intricate knots. Perhaps it would be better if she returned; easier. But the dark woman had spent so much time picking at the threads of what had happened that— even untangled— the tapestry of her life was still frayed. Besides... without Solomon, what was left for her there? Faces that she didn’t know, memories that she couldn’t bear. And the hollow hope that Tinuvel’s King would not only return to her, but also forgive her.
Unable to even forgive herself, Sabriel could not ask Solomon for that gift.
I don’t presume to know what demons you seek to escape… Rafe’s words were a welcome distraction from the desperation of her need for things lost and long-buried. The silver mare could not help but to wonder what it was that haunted him— what his own demons were. And though the thought sent a shiver trailing down her spine, the warmth of his proffered muzzle chased it away. Try as she might, Sabriel just couldn’t juxtapose the red and white stallion with the crimes he’d all but confessed. Rafe was kind if not entirely benevolent, compassionate if not the sort to send her heart fluttering. And so Morrigan’s daughter brushed her lips briefly across the line of his jaw, expression softening as she embraced his quip, offering a deft response of her own in turn.
Sabriel took a step forward as if contemplating this option, ears sliding back as if to hear what her companion would say. And then— lurching forward with a rare, breathless laugh sent spiralling through the cold air— the white-swirled mare did begin to run, glancing back over her shoulder to see whether Rafe would follow.