Making love to a m e m o r y

Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on October 5, 2017 at 03:27:26 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 revels in the tender moment in the aftermath of labor, her tired, dark, marbled eyes transfixed almost in disbelief, at the healthy little filly balled up next to her. The bay girl is quiet but inquisitive already. She is thick and stocky, even at such a young age, showing the heavy-set qualities and thick bone she inherited from her sire. But her dark eyes are wide and bright like her mother's as she takes in the sights and sounds of the quiet, dark Inlet night. Macabre is grateful to have Rowena at her side. She offers her friend a wide grin upon hearing her thoughtful compliment. But the strong gusts from off the shore howl around them, sending a flurry of pebble-like sand particles to sting at Macabre's damp and blood-stained body. She winces as she braces against the cold wind and onslaught of blowing sand. The Peak, too, was cool in temperatures given its high elevation. But Macabre, despite the time she lived here on Tinuvel, despised the cold weather. In an effort to seek out better shelter for the three of them, she struggled to stand onto all fours again.

The tired and sore mare eventually made it onto her shaky stilt-like legs, and she uses her muzzle to help guide her filly to stand as well. The girl staggered in the sand, falling quite a few times before she took a few sound steps toward her mother and leaned against her eagerly. Macabre was about to share her plans to seek out better shelter with Rowena when the dark, towering silhouette of a stallion appeared in the night. His strong, masculine scent, carried to them in the gusty breeze, gave him away. Macabre breathed a sigh of relief and shot Rowena a comforting glance as Orkaan's spotted frame became visible under the moonlight. His expression was full of surprise and concern, which was to be expected. They came, after all, unannounced in the dead of night. Macabre was wet and blood stained from labor. Orkaan had never met Rowena before, as far as Macabre knew. And they had a frail, newborn foal at their heels. But something about the heavy-set stallion told Macabre he would welcome them warmly. Despite her initial wariness of the large stud back in the Peak, she recognized a kindness in him. It's what helped urge her to seek our Diamant sooner rather than later. If Diamant was still on Tinuvel, Macabre knew she'd have the the help of a kind ally in Orkaan, if she needed it. And as she looked at her small filly at her side now, she knew they would require his assistance sooner rather than later.

Macabre smiled warmly to Orkaan and cleared her throat. "Orkaan, hello. Please forgive the late intrusion." she spoke, her voice hoarse from disuse. "This is my daughter, Wasp." She said with pride, a chill running the length of her spine as her kin's name left her lips for the first time. "And this is my dear friend and fellow sister from the Peak, Rowena." She says quickly, trying to get through the formalities of the situation as quickly as she could. Macabre wasn't sure how long she would be able to physically stay standing, given her exhausted state. "We're hoping to find a place to rest our weary heads until the weather turns. We have some business to tend to on Tinuvel eventually, but my priority is to find food and shelter for my daughter and friend here. We're hoping you can help."

"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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