The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on May 18, 2016 at 04:49:47 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."

Macabre grazed by her lonesome on the tough reeds that grew along the dunes near the shore. A slender lobe flicked back and forth as she listened to the crashing waves in the distance. She was relatively at ease given the events as of late. But the wiry mare was grateful for the brief bit of peace she'd had on Atlantis. Winter was upon them and the temperatures were still warm and humid here. Lush, green vegetation was easy to find. Though she'd spent much of her time here alone, the few friends she did make she was loyal to. She knew by now that good fortune would never be bestowed upon her for long. It seemed as though this pleasant chapter in her life had run its course.

After so many things -- After Shiraz's death, after Dexter won her in battle, and after she betrayed Dogun, Macabre realized she was probably best on her own. Though she thoroughly enjoyed the time and camaraderie she experienced in the Peak, she knew she could never be a reliable member of the herd. She couldn't contribute to the general good there like the rest of them. There were too many factors dictating her life that she couldn't control. She missed them dearly, Jetta, especially. But this was for the best.

It was a realization that had taken nearly a lifetime to come to. After the Great Flood that killed her parents and washed away her homeland, Macabre wandered for the rest of her life. She was constantly seeking shelter and safety, willing to give up nearly everything for it in her younger years. But after years of abuse and neglect from stallion after stallion, the Peak was the only place she really ever truly felt safe. Well, after Midas that is. But it's been a long time since the Quarry washed away along with the Shore. The isles here have never been the same.

The chestnut mare watched as a bobbing head appeared among the waves, a massive frame becoming visible as the unknown equine stepped out from the depths at the shoreline. It took a long minute for Macabre to recognize her, to realize she was, in fact, Jetta. But when she did, he heart began to beat furiously against the confines of her chest. The mare issued a shrill call to her, lips parting and nostrils flaring as she kicked her lean frame into gear and scaled the dunes, trotting vigorously across the loose sand to greet her. As she approached, Macabre could tell that something was off. Perhaps that's why she hadn't recognized her at first. It made the mare's heart sink, the fear of any unwill falling upon Jetta. She was such a sweet and bold child and now a kind and confident mare. But Macabre couldn't help but feel a little protective of her.

"Jetta!" She exclaimed, nickering wildly to her, extending her muzzle to bump against her damp shoulder. "Are you alright? What are you doing here?"





"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




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