The Lost Islands
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Meadow

Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.

give up forever to touch you
Posted on April 4, 2020 at 02:31:37 AM by Iris



As fiercely as Iris loved her dam, it was liberating - exhilarating, even - to leave the blue roan behind her on Luthien. One reason for this was undoubtedly the strong sense of responsibility that the younger mare felt toward the older; in an ironic reversal of roles, it was the daughter who cared for her mother and sought to shelter her from further harm than that which she'd already suffered. But as Iris struck out for the island closest to the mainland, her mood became as buoyant as her body, and she came to realize how much the aura of sorrow that enfolded Lilika also affected her. Apart from her dam, it was as if the air became easier to draw into her lungs, and her limbs less heavy.

The brown mare's swim was uneventful, and her arrival on the Crossing even less so. The landmarks were only vaguely familiar to her dark brown eyes, but some deeper sense guided her as she headed inland, ignoring the plaintive way the waves sighed as they tried and failed to pull her back into the sea. The same sense filled Iris with a vague disquiet as she approached the meadow, nostrils flaring wide to filter through the multitude of scents in the air. Here, the scent of stallion was much stronger than it had been the outskirts of the Prairie, as the colognes of many intertwined into the collective musk of testosterone.

If there was only one thing that Iris allowed herself to hate, it was the masculine gender.

Though her intent had originally been the gathering of information, the near-black horse paused at the edge of the meadow, hesitant to surrender her freedom so soon. From here, Iris could observe without being judged and procrastinate in memories of the past while she avoided the present. There was a juvenile filly whose antics brought the ghost of a smile to the mare's lips as she remembered her sister, a stallion whose lean, compact build and dark coat brought a gorge of bile into her throat, and the tangy taste of blood to her tongue.

To curb the warring instincts of fight and flight that had arisen in her, Iris turned her attention elsewhere, studying the jagged finger of the mountain in the distance. Those who surrounded her were likely of the opinion that the peak was a lonely, desolate place - hardly worth the effort it would take to ascend it. But Iris would have preferred the isolation to the stifling life she had known thus far. In a way, even after breaking free of the chains of fear her abductor had shackled her in, the mare was still a prisoner - only now it was Lilika's fear that held her in its thrall. How could she live her own life when her mother could hardly stand without her? When she felt such tremendous pressure to be strong for the sake of others?

As if realizing her freedom to weep from these thoughts, a couple tears trickled down Iris's cheek as she turned her attention back to the filly. She had thought of her sister Eve often through the years, though she had never truly mourned her as she did in this moment, feeling each stab of regret like a dagger to the chest. And though it was a pain like the mare had never experienced before, she was surprised to find that there was a solace to her grief as well, and to this moment of weakness that Iris would never have allowed in Lilika's presence.

Only in solitude did Iris feel like she could truly be herself.



Iris
mare .. 9 years .. brown sabino blanket .. mutt .. 16.1 hands
Gnome x Lilika




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