sephiroth
The winds on the mainland had begun to grow colder, though not nearly as cold as the falls of Tinuvel. The painted stallion had returned from his fight in the inlet, defeated and bloody. It was Sephiroth's first time clashing hooves with another horse for more than just a spar and he wasn't sure how he felt. He was conflicted. On one hand there was pride for what he had accomplished, and it was evident in the curl of his proud neck as he walked across the morning frost-kissed grasses. There is disappointment, however, in the shadow of his eyes.
The dried blood that is smeared across his face and neck is a stark contrast to the white that winds its way down his nape. It's streaked through his cream mane, though he doubts all of it his. There is some framing the pained expression that rolled down the curves of his face from a cut above his eye.
Sephiroth can feel the eyes of others on him as he passes them by, sparing them not even a glance. He moves with purpose, despite the slight limp. His ears press forward, peaking from the curls of silver hair, as he approaches the falls. The sound of the water falling is calming and the painted stallion lets his ever-green eyes slowly shut as he takes his first step into the water.
To a horse not of Tinuvel it may have been too cold, even now; but Sephiroth all but melted into the icy water. Beneath the ripples he finds purchase on the lake bed and slowly begins his descent as he walks deeper. Folding his legs beneath him he dunks his head, disappearing into the darkness for a moment. He surfaces with a gasp, the blood now smears of pink streaked across the mismatched quilt of his body.
Despite his loss, and his desire to not think of Tinuvel, he finds solace in the cold. He remains in the water, standing quietly where it reaches his shoulders. Not a single shiver rolls across skin and Sephiroth slowly raises his head to stare up at the gently falling waters above him.
"I am not broken." He murmurs to himself, the resolve in his voice strong despite his weary body.
"I will return." His tail switches, creating a series of ripples across the water, a few odd strands sticking to his haunches. Sephiroth's jaw clenches as a look of determination crosses his features; even if it wasn't tomorrow, or next week, or next month. He would return. They could not keep him down that easy.