The Lost Islands
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kill the boy and let the man be born (mariael)



DIAMANT


The endless sun of summer waned into autumn, and then into the long dark of winter. The return of the coldest season marked it as over a year since Diamant had come to Tinuvel. While he could not say where the time had flown, he did not feel hopeless as he once had. Six months ago Macabre had come back into his life and changed it forever, and he had been reflecting on his circumstances ever since then. Hadn't Mariael promised him last winter that she would consider releasing him come spring? Well, spring had come and gone, and another was fast approaching - it often seemed as though the winter queen had forgotten her words. Yet... he did not leave. He did not walk out, as he had threatened to all those months ago. And Mariael herself had said that she could not stop him if he chose to. Perhaps she was testing his resolve? Perhaps she was waiting for him to come and beg her for his freedom? Or perhaps she had simply assumed that, because he did not ask for it, that he was at last content here?

Why, then, did he linger? Especially now that he had responsibilities elsewhere, there was no reason for him to remain. Yet still he was here, lingering among the fringes of the herd, eavesdropping on their conversations and following them as they wandered inland to their wintering grounds. While he mused on his situation, Diamant often simply watched Mariael as she interacted with the others and went about her daily tasks, until he had become so familiar with her routine that he could predict her next action. Somehow this grounded her in his eyes - it reminded him that she was simply equine, and not some supernatural being devoid of feeling or emotion. It made him recall that time in the cave when he had found her crying and she had opened up to him about her fears regarding her sire. It made him feel a kind of poetry he could not explain.

He was beginning to see poetry in the land, too. His body had long since adapted to the climate, so its bleakness no longer grated on him. He knew now where the best shelter and grazing spots were, and could tell when a snowstorm was coming by the way the air smelled. He could not quite say he enjoyed the long dark of winter yet, but he knew he could survive it, and found it lent a certain ethereal quality to the landscape that made everything seem like a dream - a long, long dream that drew the herd close together for warmth and reminded them that they could not survive without one another. Life was short, and they were strong only as a unit: a chain that depended on every link. Diamant may have been the black sheep who never spoke to anyone, but during these times even he was not immune to the feelings of closeness and unity that pervaded the herd. It filled him like the frigid air he breathed.

It was quiet and snowy the day Diamant decided to finally approach her. The herd was nestled amongst the hot springs under a huge, round moon that was slowly being swallowed by pregnant clouds. Fat flakes of snow drifted straight down from the sky, undisturbed by any wind, and melted instantly where they touched the warm stone. Diamant had been watching Mariael with his heart in his mouth, waiting for a moment in which there was a bit of space between her and the rest of the herd and silently admiring the way the moonlight seemed to make her pale coat glow. When finally the opportunity arose, the stallion pushed past a sudden surge of adrenaline and made his approach, huge hooves clopping steadily upon the rocky ground. He felt light - almost faint - and hoped she could not see the slight tremble in his limbs as he neared her. To give the impression of confidence, Diamant held his head high and looked down at her with an unwavering amber stare set deep into an emotionless expression.

"Mariael," he rumbled unceremoniously as snow melted in his mane. Then he hesitated. He had been meaning to get straight to the point, but suddenly that seemed unkind. Looking at her, he felt poetry in him again - poetry that seized his tongue and made him say things that did not matter. "I... How are you?"


FRIESIAN; 17’2HH; BLACK; FIVE

html and character by shiva; pattern from colourlovers


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