- the Prairie stands as a symbol of peace and prosperity among the islands
- anyone is welcome to live here so long as they do not bring harm to the Prairie or any of it's residents
- adventure and exploration is not only allowed, but encouraged! residents are asked to use their better judgement and not travel to places that could bring them harm
- the head of the prairie has final say in all prairie matters. the secondary and third positions are not able to be challenged for and are selected by the head
- the guardians take on a more active role in the prairie; they must protect the inhabitants of the prairie and go on patrols of the prairie borderlines and shore. they can welcome strangers to the prairie and invite anyone to live here, though they must inform one of the leaders of any newcomers or visitors
find my nest of salt Posted on December 23, 2023 at 08:04:45 PM by Daire
everything is my fault. . . I'll take the blame
The daylight hours had been spent meandering the beach this time, wandering just close enough to the herd to see the younger foals playing. As always, Daire had steered herself and her young daughter away from them after a few minutes. It had been an easy day, nearly every day was. It was the nights that were hard. At night, Daire was left alone. Her mind, free from the distractions of her daily life (otherwise called her children), was left to its own devices. Sometimes, it was simply a thread of thought that she got lost in as the nightwind breathed upon her. Other times, there were restless dreams or outright nightmares in which she relived the past and its consequences. They'd been getting worse and kept her from restorative sleep. A few times recently, she had even woken from one nightmare into another before truly waking.
She had shuddered awake at a gruesome part in a light sheen of sweat. Her brown eyes wildly searched the dark. Would Draconian's skull smile up at her again, an eerie bone-white beacon in the moonlight? No. The sight of Vervain's striped velvet form brought the mare up short. Her nostrils continued to flare with the effort of her breathing. Daire took a large steadying breath and tried to hold it a moment. Closing her eyes, the brindle now exhaled slowly. Yes. Her eldest son was dead, but his body remained in the world she'd left behind. The others had been left there, too.. Daire's weary brown eyes locked on the stars above in a prayer. She didn't want to think about that.
Horror abated now, and as its tendrils ebbed away and loosened their hold on her nerves, Daire drooped with exhaustion. Her head had lowered into sleep for a few minutes, the light doze before sinking into deep sleep, when a soft sound roused her. Her dark fluted ears twisted toward the sound, processing that it may have actually been something out here rather than within her dreamworld. Was someone trying to wake her? Hoisting her head up again felt painfully slow, but Daire did so admirably. Her dark face turned toward the sound and found Zevulun standing some distance away.
The Daire that thought she might be in a new dream after all smiled. It was a soft and warm expression. Her brain was slow to wake, slow to point out as she went to meet him that this wasn't a dream. Hadn't she forbidden herself from such things? Velvet ears twist forward toward the pale stallion. Maybe her mind hadn't listened after all. "Zevulun," she breathes. Her eyes are dark in the night, but they radiate the drowsy warmth of her. Wouldn't it be better if she was dreaming? Wouldn't if be better to imagine that it was only them and forget the rest of the complications?
Caught in the swill of exhaustion and her sleep-addled brain, the brindled mare lets herself close the distance between them for the first time since their meeting, touching the satin skin of her muzzle to his cheek. Half a moment she lingers, the smell of the saltwater fresh on his skin wafting into her nostrils. It elicits an uncomfortable feeling somewhere within her. It's a feeling that lurchily tugs at the black mare through her mental fog. Daire retracts her maw now, her eyes wordlessly questioning. Were they repeating their conversation after he'd visited Riesling then? Would he tell her to leave in this version? Was Riesling waiting to spring out of the dark to chase her out? Nerves bundle up in her gut in the pause, a confusing sensation against the lure of his warmth. She can't bring herself to ask him if something's wrong.