Bad omens around the eyes Posted on November 7, 2022 at 08:04:03 PM by Faolain
There is silence as the pale mare freezes in the shadows ahead, beyond where Faolain can see. Silence on the outside, anyway; into her deaf ear hisses the Ridge, a singular voice, singular entity now. She shakes her head to silence it, but silence it does not.
Yes, it’s me, whispers the specter, cutting through the rasping voice of the Ridge in Faolain’s damaged ear. The black mare hears the slithering of slow movement, and Charybdis’s face appears out of the shadows, and then the rest of her, pale and glowing in the gloom. She speaks Faolain’s name, and to the black mare’s shock and relief, the static in her ear fades to silence for what feels like an eternity. It comes back, slowly, in the silence between Chary’s words, but every time she hears the tangible voice of the pale mare, the ethereal voice of the jungle itself quiets.
Stay wit’ me for… for as long as you can.
“I could not leave again,” she breathes.
Faolain takes a tentative step forward, her silver-scarred muzzle stretching nervously closer to the pale face of Charybdis. She is afraid, afraid that if she touches her, she will prove her a ghost — or maybe prove herself a ghost. Why does it seem so improbable that both mares are solid and alive?
No, says a voice in her mind, firm but not unkind. Her own voice; the voice of who she was before the Fall, hard to the touch and certain. It is better to know.
She obeys herself, then, creeping closer until her whiskers might brush those of Charybdis, and she can know for certain that the pale creature before her is absolutely real, or if she might exist only in Faolain’s fragmented mind. Replies: