The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on December 21, 2015 at 03:16:51 PM by Macabre




"If Love himself weep, shall not lovers weep,
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."


She had been grazing, lazily, at the edge of of a crystal clear pool found in the heart of Paradise's jungle, the first time she'd gotten wind of him. The stallion's frame edged its way through the jungle's maze of brush, rustling bushes with flat and wide leaves, and the tall reeds that grew at random among the vines and the trees. When we came through, the parrots high in the palms stopped chirping. The constant hum of the insects all around her in the humid air, sputtered briefly. It was as if the entire island stopped what they were doing to watch him pass, and it took several seconds for the usual sounds of the jungle to reemerge in his wake. Macabre wasn't sure the lone stallion ever saw her. He moved with haste but seemingly with no real destination in mind. At first, she had been terrified of him. He had come so close to her on several occasions, but they'd never met. She feared he was the next shark to rear his ugly head. After Vaaco and then after Strack. But he never came to claim her or this land.

Macabre wondered when or if, she should tell Ailill about the mystery equine she'd seen come and go. For some time she thought on it, worrying that he wasn't really there. Perhaps his golden body was merely another trick, a hallucination the Reaper pressed upon her. It had been months now since she'd washed up on the common lands unconscious and she still had no answers. It had been months since the Reaper had taken a jab at her. Revealing the madness, the anxiety that brewed within the confines of her skull could hurt her in the long run, she knew. Ailill was a kind kid, but still a kid. What would he want with a mare who saw horses who weren't really there?

So when the flaxen chestnut saw the stallion again, this time at the opposite edge of the pool as she grazed, not all that unsimilar to the first time she spotted him, she merely watched from afar. Macabre kept chewing, long and lush green strands poking out from the sides of her muzzle as she did so. The stallion barely moved at all. He's not real. She told herself again and again, until Ailill approached. A slender chocolate colored lobe flicked forward and back as she watched the scene play out in front of her. Their voices were masked by the thundering sounds of the waterfalls in between them.

Bravely, she swallowed and made her way around the edge of the pool toward the pair. She nickered gently in greeting to Ailill as she approached, but she kept her distance. Her dark marbled eyes remained fixated on the stallion she had told herself was merely a mirage for months. "You're real."




"Hear then how Love paid homeage to this lady;
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."

Macabre | 6 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




OOC: I hope you don't mind that I jump in. :)

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