- 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 January 6, 2024 at 10:10:19 PM by Daire
everything is my fault. . . I'll take the blame
There is nothing except the prickings of anxiety inside the brindled mare that make her doubt Zevulun. It ebbed a little as sleep loosened its hold on her mind. Not in all her dealings with Zevulun had the cream stallion ever even hinted to be like the stallions so commonplace back home. He had given her no reason to fear. If he had, surely she would not have nodded and followed him so willingly. Disquiet lingered in her stomach as they walked, and Daire found herself focusing on different sensations as they went. Surely not even in dreams could she so clearly hear the faint crashing of the sea from far off or the wind in the prairie grass nor feel the sensation of the scrub as it brushed against her fetlocks.
Her brown eyes move from the ground to Zevulun as he comes to a stop, turning to face her. Her ears prick toward him. So, if this was real, what could he have to say that required waking her from sleep and retreating from her (their?) daughter? Not knowing what that answer might be let the unease remain, lingering in the way she shifts her weight or barely swishes the length of her dark tail. Daire could not tell what emotion lined the pale stallion's face, but she could see that something was weighing on him. The gravity of what that might mean and the directness of his eyes upon her makes the mare settle and listen to his every word.
A little surprised, Daire realized that he had begun to tell her his own story - how he wasn't supposed to lead, left and later returned to the islands. She remembered him telling her previously that the Prairie had been claimed by someone else and how they'd later come to an agreement so that both stallions remained. Now, Zevulun was revealing more to that story. Three mares had been here. Something made her stomach begin to sink. "One perplexed me in particular... that was Riesling." Daire took a long moment to blink in Zevulun's pause, steeling herself for one reason or another. He was telling her their story. Not in all the time between Riesling's departure and now had he told her the saga between her daughter and himself. Why now?
Still, Daire did not speak. She opened her eyes. Zevulun found his words, and she did not interrupt as he continued. The tale went on from where the pair conceived their first child. Dark ears flicked at catching some of them though. He thought it was consensual, thought it was a "a moment of weakness" despite Riesling waiting for the other male to return. A grim foreboding gripped at her, intimating that these words would be integral to the unfolding history. Daire observed the horror and despair on his face in an almost removed way. She knew too well why Riesling would have thought that to be the case. How often had something similar happened in their lands? Another thing she would regret: not being strong enough to leave home with her babes and find somewhere safer to raise them.
Then the brindled mare considered Zevulun in all this as he went on: horrorstruck to have his feelings construed that way, baffled that such things occur, and hoping things would be better. She felt the strain of his voice as if it had come from her own throat. There is sorrow in her for Riesling and pity for the stallion who stood before her, who was perhaps more naive than Daire might have guessed. Beneath that, she was saddened by the love story that may have been doomed from the start. If she could surmise anything from her daughter, Daire felt that Riesling could never truly trust someone who had betrayed her, even if they had done it unwittingly. It was a lesson she'd learned in foalhood and a wound that Daire could never take back. Unfortunately, it meant that Zevulun's first trespass against her was their undoing. Maybe Riesling had been able to shut it away for a time. Maybe she even thought that she could get past it. Ultimately though, they'd never know if it could have turned out any other way.
The tale concluded, Zevulun quickly tells her that Riesling is decidedly not returning and that their third child hates him before moving on. Despite his quick words, she does feel sympathy for him. His next words however make her chest and throat tighten with a curious apprehension: ". . . if she is going to hate me already, if I have already betrayed her and hurt her as many times as she says I have, I might as well confess all of my sins." Her mind fumbled in large uncoordinated strokes at what he would say next. What could he say that might be rendered moot at this point? Surely not that -- "I still have feelings for you, Daire. Romantic feelings." His blue eyes fixed her to the spot, frank surprise on her face after all the denial she'd been putting herself through. She scarcely had time to process his admission before Zevulun's lips were on the move again.
Her mind can only flutter along as he speaks. Maybe Riesling would kill him for such a thing. After all, hadn't she thought that Zevulun had gotten Daire pregnant while she was gone attempting to retrieve Claret? Did she still think such things despite Daire's denial? The brindled mare's head was wheeling. "I can only imagine the type of pain and anger that I, caring for you, would do to her. But... once again," he sighs. She cannot fathom the sea of his gaze upon her, but feels the pull of its tide. "Once again, I am ever the fool who can't keep his heart in line."
There is a pause then in which Daire felt as if she might drown. Despite the surprise still on her face, a paralyzing swill of emotions play at the lines of her countenance. "You can't, Zevulun." The words are hoarse, sad and surprised at herself in trying to deny him and the thing he has voiced, the thing she has told herself not to even dream about. The tone of the words would reveal more to the stallion, if he really listened. There were largely two reasons that Daire believed he could not care for her, and he had already disregarded the first. That left her with the second that had always proved true: she was constitutionally unworthy of love. No one could love her that was not born from her, and even that had scarcely been true.
Daire tried to let herself go numb before she can experience him surely walking away from her, leaving to never visit again. The mare scarcely breathed should it reveal the way she wanted to crumble into his embrace instead of building the walls between them ever higher. She was the siren here, the demon, the one to bring about ruin. That had ever been the case, but she didn't want to be. Daire couldn't bring herself to look at him now, undeserving as she was. Her words are low and ruefully self-deprecating: "I'd hate to be the sin that stains your soul a shade too deep for heaven."