The Lost Islands
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Meadow

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

for a voice like thunder
Posted on May 23, 2020 at 03:24:08 AM by Gilene

gilene a storm under a veil of serenity

Gilene was glad to free herself from the ocean's grasp, and flung the saltwater from her coat in a quick gesture not unlike the shaking of a dog; head lowered, ash-colored mane tossed back and forth in the air, and breath expelled from her lungs in a quick burst. By the time that she had finished, Nephele's voice penetrated the veil of silence that had settled between them over the course of their travels. Gilene did not respond right away, though the twist of one ear toward her twin revealed that she had heard. Instead, she regarded the land in which they'd arrived with a critical gaze, a frown twisting her dark lips downward. "It doesn't look any different," the mare offered dubiously - and indeed, this island appeared much the same as their home at first glance. Grass, sky, and loose gatherings of their own kind. Only the song of the sea as it swirled up and down the sands was new - like the sound of some slumbering creature's breaths, it filled her ears with mournful sighs that left Gilene uneasy.

Though the sisters had grown in the same womb and shared a connection that few creatures on this earth could comprehend, these truths only seemed to emphasize the differences that existed between them. It was as if the forces of nature had understood too late the imbalance of power that it had caused in creating them, and sought to cleave the two apart by creating a rift in the way that each perceived and responded to the world around them. Nephele was serene and spiritual almost to the point of being immovable - when faced with a physical threat, the blue roan would exhaust all other options before resorting to violence. Like the waters to which she'd been drawn since her birth, the young mare's exterior seemed still - but her emotions ran deep.

And if Nephele was water - content to drift where the current of life chose to carry her - then Gilene was a storm.

Wild and unpredictable, the steel-colored mare was defined by her more hot-blooded nature. Like a gale-force wind or the relentless pummeling of rain, Gilene's passionate moods held the power to overwhelm all but her placid sibling. But like the most powerful tempests, the dappled grey's greatest furies tended to pass quickly - especially where Nephele was concerned. Gilene had been quick to denounce the idea of this pilgrimage when her twin had first proposed it. Though she too had felt the subtle tug, the impulsive creature was not one that could easily be led. But with the passage of time her will had been broken, and now here they stood upon a foreign shore, so far from home that it felt like a distant dream.

Together they began to trek inland, though the darker creature's strides were more reluctant than her sibling's. Gilene could have left this place as gladly as she might have remained; the bond that had called them both here remained as nebulous to her as it'd been when their journey was just beginning. But for Nephele the connection appeared to have strengthened, no longer a latent dream but a living tether that pulled her along. Do you feel it, sister? Gilene bristled, warring against the familiar powers within herself as she'd done for the entirety of her existence; determined to keep the freedom of her own thoughts, her own will. But as with the decision that had led her here, the dappled grey eventually relented, her own violet-blue eyes falling shut.

And oh, could she feel it. Raw power thrumming in her bones, and crackling within her lungs like the acrid taste of electricity that precedes a storm. For Gilene, the unseen shackles that she wore sought to bear her south. Though as an outsider she could not know that a fierce storm raged across Atlantis's shore, the elements still recognized their own. "I feel...something," the ashen mare conceded. "But it's distant. Are you certain we've come to the right place?" The frown was still present, though it had become more reflective as Gilene regarded the meadow in which they stood. This, she knew, was not where they were meant to be.

And so the question that had haunted her from the beginning remained - what did the fates intend for them?
mare .. 3 years .. dapple grey tobiano .. gypsy vanner .. 15.3 hands


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