Posted on February 25, 2013 at 03:07:08 AM by ANATH
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| Summer is here. Summer is almost here. Anath knows not what to do with herself. She knows for a fact that she needs to make the rounds, she needs to check up on the Islands. The old tradition of kings had fallen by the wayside… that was enough to upset her. It was enough to drive her from the Peak to see what needed to be done, who needed to be checked on. The Kings… the Kings seemed to be the last thing to connect the new things to the old things. Fragile, gossamer threads held them all together.
She couldn’t do it. Not anymore. Anath was starting to lose touch. She couldn’t think of the names of the stallions that now held the Islands in the palms of their hands. They couldn’t go on not knowing their neighbors. She’d been a politician back in the day, Anath had. She’d prided herself on knowing the names and the stories and the business in a world of men. She’d kept track of things for her father and for her uncle and for anyone who needed keeping track of. She’d been so good at it. Look where the dun mare was now. Anath couldn’t even do it. She was removed from what was important, and that was getting harder and harder by the day. The creature needed a way of clinging back to her world. She was ripe with things to say, but at the same time, she needed to figure out what those words were. How was she supposed to go about bringing the Islands back together if the words were rotting on her tongue, were falling away before she could get her head around them. The champagne mare had been so well spoken once. She was the pride of the Badlands, once upon a time. Things would always be changing. The general had put the brakes on such a long time ago. It was starting to get out of hand. Who was she to talk to if the Islands didn’t have kings? Change. More change. Too much, far too much to handle for the mare that had been raised on these Islands. They were a part of her, each and every one of them. They all meant something to her, and that was enough to fill her up. At least Anath had a purpose. It was more important than anything that the general had something to do. The champagne mare had been back to the Salem enough times to count on fingers since she’d left the first time. She should have visited more… she should have made her presence known. Instead, the champagne mare allowed herself to sit in the Peak and not look at anyone in particular. She was streaked with silver and grey now, and she looked… old. Fifteen was old for a mare of her stature and size, of the wild variety. Time passed quickly or not at all for the mare, and sometimes it was both. She was being yanked in two different directions, and that was a lot to ask. Her veins flowed hot with desert sand, but her heart beat the rhythm of the Peak. Islands. She was the Islands. Beating, throbbing, always going never stopping, even to sleep—the Common isle was her heart. Cold and pebbly, seemingly unfeeling but telling more stories than she could ever think up and hold onto to remember—the Tinuvel was her hooves. Ever hot and humid, feeling the wrath of mother nature and her coddling embrace, drying out and becoming greasy and alive when the weather willed it—Atlantis was her skin. Hot and shifting, breathing, living though sometimes it seemed like there was no life to be found—Salem was the blood in her veins. Growing and changing, showing so much of changes of the world around, lush and green, seeming to catch every bit of what was going on in the world—the Luthien was her eyes. Anath was the Islands. And she’s back home. She was raised just next door to the Dunes. Her eyes curse the area that used to be the Wasteland… her first child had been conceived there. Dully she wonders where Legacy is now. The bay mare hadn’t been seen since Anath dropped her off at the border of the Desert and into the hands of her uncle. The champagne mare fades back into the sands and allows them to take her mind and bring it elsewhere. She drifts over the shifting sands, knowing just how to navigate them. Anakin was here last time she was. A sunbleached bay appears in her mind, lithe and bright under the desert sands. Anakin is a mirage, and she knows it. She knows that he doesn’t exist anymore… he’s long lost. She could smell the stench when he died, she saw the bones picked clean by the vultures. It was a fairly normal sight in the Salem… survival of the fittest overtook them all. Desert living wasn’t for everyone. You had to be special for the desert not to chew you up and spit you out. What was even scarier was the fact that the very, very last time she’d been here, the one that her brain had forced out, Lothor had been here. She was living in the Peak then, and it was on one of her many outings. Eleven years. Eleven years ago, Lothor had been killed right here in the Dunes. Glory… Glory was gone now, yet his memory was something that’s tainted the dun mare’s mind. It brought tension and stress to her muscles. Her head was starting to ache… she wanted Anakin back. Anakin, at least, ahd some sense in matters that involved politics. Anath, it seemed, lacked sense. Her eyes hit a robust stallion. She moves closer… he doesn’t look like a face that’s stuck to the flypaper in her brain. The creature’s posture goes on the defensive. She longs to protect this land, though it’s not hers to rule any more. It’s clear. She smells of the Peak, Anath does, but that doesn’t mean much right now. The mare’s green eyes narrow, but dance across the face of the creature that had appeared in the Dunes. The sound in her throat is low and equestrian, as if she doesn’t know what to say. Still, her presence has been announced. That’s enough. Anath moves with a certain grace over the sand. Though she smells of the Common island, she was born to the sand. She’s a bit heavier than those that were bred to it as well, but it doesn’t matter. Her ears hang slightly backward, but not enough for aggression. Not yet. Instead, there’s a statement that hangs off her tongue. “You don’t live here.” Blunt and not necessarily discourteously, she speaks. Words are just a formality. She needs to figure out who this man is and what he’s doing here. She doesn’t know that this place lacks a lead. Not yet. Anath "HEROES GET REMEMBERED LEGENDS NEVER DIE " |
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- But I still wake up, I still see your ghost - By Laurel February 26, 2013 at 03:06:20 AM
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