The Lost Islands
CLICK FOR IMAGE CREDITS


Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on November 13, 2019 at 02:50:01 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."

The flaxen chestnut mare was grateful when Ruger chose to escort them back to the Forest. Despite their rough introduction, and the tension that came from the looming threat of Cullen, Macabre couldn't be more pleased that Ruger was the sire of her special colt, now named Bacardi. She watched quietly, but with curious amusement across her features as the small colt apprehensively interacted with his father. Ruger, despite his large and sometimes menacing presence, was soft and kind around the colt. It warmed Macabre to her core to witness this.

For such a long time, all Macabre craved was love and protection. Ever since her own parents perished in the great flood that decimated her homelands, she searched for it, with the Reaper hot on her heels. There were interests who were kind to her over the years, like Dexter, the sire of her late sickly foal, Shiraz. And then there was Midas, Dogun. And of course, Vodnik - the former King of the Ridge, that even with his thorny exterior, the great draft stallion was the first in her lifetime in which she saw an actual realistic future with. Then the stallion died.

After Vodnik, Macabre's outlook on life changed. She had Inka and Jetta to thank for that, and the inclusive nature of the Peak. Finally, she'd found her calling, and it was steeped in protecting her sisters and others in need at the Peak. The mountain top gave her purpose. And she tried so desperately to instill those values in her only filly, Wasp. That is why she needed to return. It was the Peak that grounded her.

Nevertheless, Macabre saw something special in Ruger. He was kind and caring. Despite their awful beginnings, he'd had Wasp's best interests at heart when he brought her home. She felt a sudden chill run down the length of her spine, at his words: "“I will go with you, wherever you allow me.” She couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her wihskered lips. The short walk back to the Forest was peaceful and calm. Macabre took a deep breath as she watched Ruger with his son, committing the image to memory. Oh how she wished this feeling would last forever.

Ruger took notice of something off, something different, in the air around the Forest first. Macabre watched him intently as her own nostrils flared, the familiar but distant scent of her daughter wafting to her. Her dark, marbled eyes trained onto Ruger's and she felt the muscles underneath her winter hide bunch in anticipation. Could it really be? After all this time? Seemingly feeling the shift in energy, Ruger's words brought her back. She smiled sweetly to the painted stallion, tears welling in her dark eyes, before she reached out with her soft muzzle and touched him affectionately on the cheek. She let her gaze linger within his for just a moment longer, before trotting off down the trail at brisk pace.

The wooded trail opened up into a small clearing, and that's where she saw her. Wasp.

But the full grown, stout draft mare was hardly the image Macabre had clung to all this time. Wasp had grown to be a powerful, beautiful mare, the one Macabre always knew she'd be. She issued a shrill bugle to the three mares standing in the distance and quickened her pace into a three-beat canter. She flashed Cherish and Persephone a bright smile as she approached, but didn't slow until she was physically upon her daughter, chest to chest, tears streaming from her eyes and dampening her cheeks. "Oh, how I've missed you." She said, her voice crackling with emotion. "Look at you."




"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:
Subject:
Message:
Link Name:
Link URL:
Image URL:
Password To Edit Post:







<-- -->