The Lost Islands
CLICK FOR IMAGE CREDITS


Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on January 11, 2018 at 09:11:54 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 welcomed the slow change in seasons, watching as the snow began to melt away in the valley at the base of the Peak and fresh, lush foliage began to grow in its place. But she was in no hurry for time to move too quickly. Wasp was growing like a weed. Every day she seemed to stand just a hair taller. Which brings us to today, when the striking bay filly nearly met her mother's height at the withers just shy of the start of her yearling year. While Macabre was thrilled to see how her daughter was growing to be an independent and healthy young filly, it pained her, somewhat, to no longer see her as a cuddly, small foal. Wap didn't need rely on her mother nearly as much as she used to. Macabre sorely missed when her babe used to hug her in the brush at night, snuggling close for warmth. The first time Macabre spied her take a bite of grass, her long legs bent awkwardly at the knees so her short neck and muzzle could reach, her heart beat rapidly in her chest. "This is happening much too fast," she recalled telling Jetta. "I wish she could just stay small forever."

As the weather warmed, so did the seas. Rowena seemed anxious for an opportunity to get off the Crossing Isle. Macabre, of course, would honor her promise to accompany her to Atlantis, though as the day crept closer to cashing in on her word, the the small flaxen mare began to regret it. This was about to be the first time she'd ever left Wasp behind and it was bound to be a nerve wrecking experience for the new mother. Wasp was clearly capable enough of holding her own for a day or two, under the watchful eye of Macabre's Peak sisters, of course, but that didn't do anything to put Macabre's mind at ease. It would be a struggle to depart and leave her filly behind.

When the morning came, Wasp was unperturbed. "Have a great time!" She called out to her mother and "aunt" before tearing off at a three-beat gait to find the other foals of the Peak. Macabre breathed a heavy sigh, the sides of her barrel rising and falling in a big heap, before she looked to Rowena with worried eyes. "She could have at least faked it that she would miss me." She said to her friend with a lopsided smirk.

Rowena had mentioned a new friend would be joining them as they traveled down the forested path away from the Peak and toward the more common areas. Macabre's ear twitched as she considered this, curious about who this new friend could be, but she was generally happy to hear that Rowena had been out and about enough to meet new horses. It was a welcomed change to her more down demeanor lately. Together they traveled quietly through fog and mist. Macabre weighed how likely it would be that they would actually find Alillil after all this time. A pit in her gut told her it wasn't likely at all, but she knew they had to try. That familiar sense of worry made her gut churn as thought about how deflated Rowena might be, if their search ends up fruitless.

A shrill call reaches them through the mist and Macabre's small head whips high over her withers in response. She looks to Rowena, who seems less concerned about the stranger's call, and follows in her large footprints in the direction of the sound. Eventually the mist gives way to the shoreline. Standing solemnly in the damp sand was a ghost of Macabre's past. She stopped dead in her tracks for a long moment as her marbled eyes took in the familiar, but clearly aged, picture of the golden stallion. A hushed breathe left through her whiskered lips and she wondered if the Reaper was playing tricks on her again. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears she nearly missed when her name slipped from his lips, confirming he was in fact, real. Macabre said nothing for a while. Her nostrils flared and she merely stared. She took in the scars that marred his yellow fur. Despite the additions, the same twinkle remained behind the stallion's deep brown eyes.

Macabre manages to extend her slender neck to meet his muzzle for a cordial exchange of breathe. She does her best to fight the urge of a shiver that comes in the wake of a gentle brush of nose against nose. Macabre immediately stiffens, her gaze flicking to Rowena for the first time during this exchange. She snorts once in an attempt to clear her throat and shifts her weight awkwardly across her forelegs. "How do you two know each other?" She says matter-of-factly. "What are you doing here, Midas?" It had been a long time. As far as Macabre knew, there were no ties left in the Ridge that pointed back to the stallion. But here he was, about to embark on an excursion to an island where Macabre first felt at home, by his side. And then again much later, next to Rowena's father.




"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




Replies:

Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Link Name:
Link URL:
Image URL:
Password To Edit Post:







<-- -->