The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on August 10, 2016 at 05:32:58 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."

The moment lingers in her mind. "Because I like you. Because I like you... In her usual paranoid fashion, Macabre internally scrutinizes whether this is some kind of trap. Perhaps Vodnik is a better manipulator than she'd given him credit for. But beyond the paranoia and prey-like instinct, there is a flutter in her chest that tells her the stallion is being genuine. That she had seen him in a true moment of vulnerability. That he had picked her for pure and good reasons.

Maybe Macabre acts this way because it's been a lifetime of knowing she'd never be the most charming or exotic mare in the bunch. Her mother had stressed that she be the most witty and the smartest in an attempt to stand out. Her plain features, and her correct though bland conformation, would never be enough to stand out. And for the majority of her life, Macabre was fine knowing this. She'd rather chart her own course anyway.

But as Vodnik's words sear into her brain, she feels conflicted. She would be lying if she said she didn't already miss Paradise. That place had given her a purpose. She would need to find that here if she was to feel content with her current company. But now wasn't the time to breach that subject.

When Vodnik pulls away she remains stiff and in place. She breathes a sigh of relief to see him return to his usual facade with her request to view the peaks. She follows obediently, taking her time to watch him scale the mound of soft earth, and then taking careful strides to find her own path. Once she reaches the top, she must trot in order to catch up with the stallion, who continues to charge ahead at what appears to be a leisurely pace for him, but an overly extended one for Macabre. She doesn't complain, however, and jigs somewhere in between a walk and a trot in order to maintain the pace he's set forth.

"If I'm going to live here, I want to be useful." She calls out in huffs, in between her elevated breathes. A dark side eye watches him carefully, analyzing his facial features for a reaction to this idea. She was careful not to bring up Allill directly. "Maybe I can assist you in some ways. I have experience in helping with more... diplomatic... matters between the herd systems here." As her nerves begin to get the best of her, Macabre regrets bringing this up now. But it's too late. If she were to rescind now, she'd just look weak.

The mare turns her head to the peaks, which now face in the opposite direction of where they were headed, but Macabre keeps her lips shut. He is the one guiding her, after all. The silence between them is painful, so nervously she decides to blurt out one last plea: "I want to like you too, Vodnik. In order to do that, I'm going to need to trust you."





"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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