The Lost Islands
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Meadow

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these violent delights have violent ends
Posted on July 13, 2020 at 02:40:42 AM by Sabriel


SABRIEL

Sabriel knew that it was time to move on.

The moon had been waning when she’d first arrived, but now it had turned to face the world again - a blind eye staring out into the darkness. Around her, the murmurs of her own kind mingled with the whisper of the wind’s breath, reminding the sable mare that she was not alone. Yet silence and solitude would have been preferred to this - to the bitter taste of rejection that stung like nettles on her tongue. Her mother had warned her, of course, but Sabriel had not truly believed what she’d been told. For as long as she’d lived, the silver-haired woman had always been beautiful and unique and adored. The old harpy who had birthed her was simply jealous of these undeniable truths, and bitter about her own diminished beauty. Denying Sabriel her freedom was nothing more than an attempt to trap the younger mare in misery beside her.

There was certainly no denying that the relationship that existed between mother and daughter was volatile on the best days, toxic on the worst, and held little room for trust. Old wounds had been left to fester for too long, leaving the aging mare with little to cling to but the past - and her spite. Haughtily, Sabriel had declared that she would seek out the herd her dam had been expelled from regardless, and learn the reason for her shame. Like wildcats the mother and daughter had faced one another, snarling invectives and expletives into the scant distance that had separated them. Their words might have turned to violence if the older mare had not disarmed the younger with a particularly cruel blow. Glaring at her daughter from beneath her tear-dampened forelock, she had been both more beautiful - and more terrible - than Sabriel had ever seen her before. Go, then, and see the truth for yourself. I hate you. I’ve always hated you.

So Sabriel went. And she learned not only the truth that she’d sought, but also those she had feared to learn.

During the course of her introspection, the murmuring had grown louder; more agitated. It filled her ears like the buzzing of angry insects, and strengthened the impulse that Sabriel felt to flee. She knew the topic that was being discussed, and had no desire to remain so that she might witness its conclusion. Shortly after her arrival, a member of the herd had been exiled, and the pale-maned mare had watched the cruelties they inflicted on one of their own. And if these creatures had driven out a direct descendent of their own with such violence, she knew that they would not hesitate to do the same to the daughter of an outcast. The memory of the poor mare’s cheek - laid open to the bone - was the final impetus Sabriel needed to go. Pivoting, the brindled black raced off into the night, letting the soft silver light of the moon guide her towards the sea.

When she emerged into the pinkening light of dawn, it was like a rebirth. The desolation and anger that she’d felt had been washed away by the salty waters, leaving only hunger in their wake. She had come here with a purpose - to walk in the wake of her mother’s memories, so she might understand what could bring a beautiful creature to the brink of ruin. But something about the islands called to her on an even deeper level from the first careful steps that she took. Within the span of a few heartbeats, Sabriel belonged to this place in a way that she had never truly belonged anywhere. Her strides becoming lighter and more carefree, the silver black mare left the shore behind her.

She followed no defined path, but travelled instead where her whims took her, pausing often to admire the beauty that surrounded her. Though a few of the trees had already shed their leaves, those that remained boasted plumage in every hue of the sunset: bright golds, deep reds, and blazing oranges. The creatures that made their homes in the meadow had also begun to prepare for the coming winter, scurrying about with boundless energy that would soon give way to the deep slumber of hibernation. But as long as she might stop to observe their movements, nothing Sabriel encountered was enough to overcome the siren’s call that sang in the breeze; nothing was enough hold her there. At least, not until she came upon a field scattered with her own kind, and the sight of multiple males jostling for the attention of a single female. Here the silver-haired woman did finally stop, watching them battle with her lips slightly parted and a sparkle of excitement in her dark eyes. Witnessing their savagery, and feeling a violent delight of her own in it.

Something about fall called to the fire concealed within all things that lived and breathed. And Sabriel was the sort who would watch the world burn, if only to appreciate the beauty and warmth of the flames that consumed it.

4 | mare | mixed | silver black somatic brindle | 16.1hh


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