The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on August 8, 2016 at 04:06:25 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."

When Macabre feels the soft touch of Ailill's muzzle at her shoulder, her heart sinks. There is no way she can return to the Ridge without Vodnik smelling the pale stallion on her, without knowing she'd breached his borders and returned to Paradise. The chestnut mare lets out a long and low exhale upon realizing this, but looks to Ailill with a weak smile across her whiskered lips. She nickers to him in a warm and gentle tone. Despite the recovering rip in his ear, he looked good. He seemed healthy and in relatively good spirits despite recent events. Macabre feels better knowing this. Life will go on for the young stallion, with or without her. Perhaps he was better off without her after all. "It is good to see you Ailill." She says sheepishly, not wanting him to think otherwise. But this wasn't the time for some kind of heartfelt reunion. He knew that, she assumed, despite the open ended invitation he let hang in the dead air after the warning she issued to the others. "But you know we can't stay."

The liver chestnut mare speaks and Macabre is at a loss of words on how to respond. Her brown lobes flick back against her poll momentarily, but don't remain there long. Instead she merely stares at the mare, taken aback by her brash and immature reaction to a serious situation. Princess? No one in her entire life had ever described her as so. The fact that this mare thought she knew her well enough to call her such a thing, in the form of an insult no less, was almost comical to her. Macabre just huffs again, choosing not to engage Dracaena at this time, or more likely ever.

Rowena speaks and Macabre feels relieved. She studies the young mare and offers her a reassuring bob of her head, followed by a smile, after she speaks. Macabre was too busy trying to hurry the conversation along to realize the ongoing chemistry brewing between Rowena and Ailill. It's probably better for her to know less than more of this situation in all honesty. "She is absolutely right." Macabre adds, surveying the group but eyeing Ailill with a pleading look. She wished Tarrant was here to talk some sense into the boy. It filled her entire body with dread thinking that Vodnik could come along any second. She knows Ailill would be the one to suffer the most in the aftermath of this.

Macabre gives Dracaena one last look, her eyes and stance stoic and unflappable. If she wants to say here, she's clearly more than welcome to. When she doesn't respond Macabre merely snorts and walks to stand along Rowena's side. "Suit yourself." She says, then looks to the draft breed mare before turning on her haunches to face the trail that lead back toward the Ridge.




"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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