The Lost Islands
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Falls

Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.

Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on June 30, 2017 at 06:13:32 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's coat blended with the earth, a bland hue of brown. Her physical appearance was equally as plain. Though petite in structure and correct in confirmation, nothing about her features made her stand out. Especially when compared to many more loudly colored mares who were natives to the isles. And so, her mother raised her to be smart. She taught her to be quick-witted, to be strong of mind, to have ideas worth turning into strategies. She taught her to react fast, and to know when to hold out for the long haul. Macabre was gifted. She was intelligent and liked to be useful. But the small, flighty mare was constantly battling her own inhibitions, a deep anxiety that had haunted her all her life. Or at least, until her life was completely upended by the Great Flood. That's when the Reaper found her, as far as she knew. Or at least, that's when he was awoken in her. She had been battling his influences ever since.

The chestnut mare struggled to hold the stallion's gaze, and thus, after her bleak introduction, her dark marbeled eyes fell to earth below her hooves. They periodically popped back up to peer over at him, like when he returned her greeting with a short one of his own. He was a lean stallion, and had a face she didn't recognize, despite her relatively long history here. He seemed at ease in this place though, like he'd been here all along. But there was a daze in his eye, like that of a lost soul. She knew the look all to well.

"You didn't startle me," she retorts, lifting her small, chiseled head high over her withers. The mare's chocolate-colored ear lobes are pricked forward at attention, as she studies him. She watches as he tucks his chin to his chest, as he shifts his weight over his haunches. He seemed distracted. "But I appreciate the apology." She added limply.

Her mind was running a mile a minute, trying to keep the conversation going. She flicks her tail back and forth over her haunches, again and again. "Are you lost?" She finally asks curiously, cocking her head to one side as he studied him, gauging his response to a very blunt, and matter-of-fact question.




"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 | 12 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




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