The Lost Islands
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HEAD OF THE PRAIRIE
zevulun
SECONDARY THIRD
castillon lir
GUARDIANS
jasper, micah, thames, lohan
 
RESIDENTS OF THE PRAIRIE
hirka, eira, aura
 eirena, frond, aurelie, luna
mage, daire, vervain, claret
lior, hael, atropa belladonna
vernonia		 name, name, name
 
CHILDREN OF THE PRAIRIE
eriana, name, name
 *odette, eudora, *dolores
adira		 name, name, name
 
ALLIES
ENEMIES
rafe (badlands)
evrain (hills)
sephiroth (thicket)
bacardi (forest)
mariael (arch)
tyr & oswin (ridge)
none
 
GUIDELINES

- the Prairie stands as a symbol of peace and prosperity among the islands
- anyone is welcome to live here so long as they do not bring harm to the Prairie or any of it's residents
- adventure and exploration is not only allowed, but encouraged! residents are asked to use their better judgement and not travel to places that could bring them harm
- the head of the prairie has final say in all prairie matters. the secondary and third positions are not able to be challenged for and are selected by the head
- the guardians take on a more active role in the prairie; they must protect the inhabitants of the prairie and go on patrols of the prairie borderlines and shore. they can welcome strangers to the prairie and invite anyone to live here, though they must inform one of the leaders of any newcomers or visitors
Live through this lie
Posted on April 11, 2018 at 02:07:10 PM by S H A M WARI








Was I left behind?
Tell me, tell me I survived.


From far away, the stranger's cream-colored, splashed coat looked like hers. But this lone mare's overall markings and general build was quite different from Bri's. Sanibel didn't stand as tall or with the same presence as my Bright Eyes. But as I peered across the cold, quiet hills of the Prairie and saw her wandering in the distance, my heart leapt into my throat. Under the dark clouds in the sterile low light, this mare I barely knew looked like a ghost from my past. The image was haunting.

I stood stiffly, swallowing hard in an attempt to dislodge the rough lump that had grown in my throat. I felt the lingering pin-pricks of a chill that ran down the length of my spine, which heightened my senses in the howling, bitter wind. The salty breeze battered against my heavy brown winter coat, and sent the firey red strands of my unkempt mane to dance along my topline. I watched her intently from behind my brown-eyed gaze, but didn't move from my position atop the hill. I was still recovering from the fright she'd given me just moments before. My heartbeat was still pounding in my ears. And in all honesty, I didn't know what words I could say to her that held any worth.

I had met this mare before, of course. Not unlike Darshan, she had been a beacon in the night, a bright spot in my grief, a distraction. Perhaps her vague similarities to Bright Eyes is what drew me to her the first time. But after our brief intimacy, I left her behind on the Crossing without so much as sharing my name or even offering her a place to go. Weeks later, it appears she was adept enough to find me. Something foul churned in my gut as I wondered if she was indeed pregnant now, hence her reason to seek me out. What would Jabari say? What would he think of his father, who'd covered two mares blindly through grief, bringing potentially more siblings into this world, but with mothers' whom I barely knew?

I felt both a strong sense of guilt for abandoning her and hesitation to let another stranger into our fold. New bodies couldn't replace what we had lost here. Not this time. As she approaches, two copper-colored earl lobes flick forward at attention to catch her words. I bob my head stiffly and apprehensively, and my jaws churn tight on nothing but air. She continues to speak, and I listen, though my body language is still stiff and clearly uncomfortable. She introduces herself and the guilt I'm harboring inside begins to feel, well, overwhelming. It causes me to advert my gaze to ground, and prance a bit in place with nervous energy. Finally I snort, in an attempt to get a hold of myself, and extend my nose to her in a cordial share of breathe. "Hi, Sanibel." I say hoarsely, with a sheepish, short-lived smile. "I am Shamwari." I add plainly with the flick of a thick tail over my haunches.

"There's no need to apologize," I follow up with quickly. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." My gaze drops to the hard earth and brittle grass between our hooves, before I force myself to look her in the face again. But I offer no further explanation for my apology. "How did you find me?" I ask curiously.



Shamwari | Fresian Mutt | Evaline x Rook | Stallion | Chestnut | 15.3 h |
Half-brother to Kasabian, Vita Nova, Paradiso | Photo © Carina Mailwald | © Vinyl



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