Posted on October 5, 2015 at 05:50:42 PM by Macabre
 learning from what sad cause he pours his tears? Love hears his ladies crying their distress, showing forth bitter sorrow through their eyes because villainous Death has worked its cruel destructive art upon a gentle heart, and laid waste all that earth can find to praise in a gracious lady, save her chastity." Despite the long series of unfortunate events in her past, Macabre never saw herself as a victim. It was a matter of circumstance. After the Great Flood and the loss of her tribe and parents, her path had been altered permanently. She was meant to carry the burden of those lost, allowing her kind to live on as memories within the confines her her skull. Her son, Shiraz, too. That burden, she now believed, was her curse. It kept her from creating any kind of real emotional connections with those that passed through her life. She used Dogun and even Midas. She allowed others, like Dexter and now Vaaco, to abuse her. The cycle was endless and she had no power over it. That is, until the Reaper finally caught up with her. Until he decided this torture was over and she could join those whom she loved the most. She could not fathom what the latest occurrence -- her black out and washing up unconscious on the beach -- meant in the grand scheme of his plans. It made her feel helpless and alone. Despite her escalating fear and anxiety, the long span of quiet days and long nights on Atlantis had seemingly dulled the pain of the unknown and her general panic. She was tired of it all, almost delirious from it. Perhaps that is why she is so lackadaisical in this stranger's company. Strack. She logs his name away in her memory. Kjartan, another one. It didn't sound feminine, but what did Macabre know. She nods her head in understanding about Salem. She never spent much time in the desert. "I lived on Tinuvel previously. I understand the dilemma." She said with a short smile. Her thin tail flicks idly over her haunches and she studies him from behind her dark, marbled eyes. He's fairly fit and of good size for a stallion. He has loud, handsome markings. He seems friendly enough. Macabre assumes he's be successful here, for some time. Thus far he seems to pose no threat to her, but she knows that's fleeting and unverified. "The stallion who came before you brought me here a few weeks ago. I haven't seen him, or anyone else, since." She sees no use in sugarcoating her situation, but fails to mention her sisters back at the Peak. Sometimes stallions didn't take to Peak mares kindly, and given her long absence from the Amazon tribe, she worried about her status within the herd anyway. Macabre didn't really have anywhere else to go. I saw him weeping there in human form, observing the stilled image of her grace; and more than once he raised his eyes toward Heaven, where that sweet soul already had its home, which once, on earth, had worn enchanting flesh." |
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