- 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 21, 2024 at 06:41:39 AM by Daire
everything is my fault. . . I'll take the blame
Daire had been a problem for almost everyone who had met her. It had been this way for so long that she could hardly remember it being any other way. Ever since she had foolishly latched onto the preposterous idea that being pretty meant being the best, things had snowballed into tragedy. She had been called so many awful things that ended up not being so far from the truth. Hindsight gave it all a sickening light. It wasn't hard to see why no one ever kept her.
After all the wandering and casting her lot with this stallion of renown and that, it had meant nothing. No amount of children provided had carved out some special spot for her. No amount of brash words and haughty attitude had kept a stallion enticed or mares amiable. Acting out for attention hadn't worked to keep her own family together; so why had she expected it to make anything better as an adult? In fact, acting out made her lose everything at one point.
Daire, in the recesses of her brain, remembered the day she'd been traded away. The day she was parted from her two young daughters, Riesling and Sémillon. She hadn't even known it was happening until she was whisked away from the two fillies and escorted brusquely out of the territory. The brindle couldn't remember now if she had been given any kind of explanation for her departure. It didn't matter though; she knew why. Daire had finally pushed Akita too far: Akita, the lead mare and Rowan's true mate. Rowan's first excursion with her had been a source of shame for him. It was obvious enough that when Akita began hurling names Daire did what she could to spite her. She paraded Riesling before her, before Rowan, showing off their beautiful daughter. It repeated with Sémillon a year later.
Her hatred for Akita and her life on a platter drove Daire up a wall. Her ego constantly battled between vanity, pride, worthlessness, and insecurity. No one tried to understand why she said and did what she had. No one cared. Not that being in a bad place is an excuse, which was a reason she felt such shame toward Riesling. Thinking of her elicited a sigh from her lungs. How had she gotten things so wrong? Had she been so naive to think that her daughters were better off without her? In a land with their father and someone stable to be their mother? Where they were safe and guarded, not wandering and praying to the stars that the wolves wouldn't find them?
It had been wrong for Riesling. It instilled so much hate and distrust for those who are supposed to be the ones you count on. She was still carrying that hate, that fire that burned so deep like an inferno in the very marrow of your bones. Daire knew that fire. She had had it once and knew the dual pain and comfort it could bring. It hadn't been so long ago that the brindle thought she could take on the world and raze it with the fire inside her. After everything that had happened in the years since, it was a wonder her bones hadn't dissolved into ash and blown Daire away like dust. The fire had finally died out for her. There was not enough pride or vanity left in the mare to kindle an ember of who she had been.
The older mare knew that what she had done was irredeemable in the eyes of her eldest daughter. There was no going back, no matter how badly Daire wished it would. She had never dreamed that they would reunite, and it was better that she hadn't. It had gone terribly. Riesling lashed at her with a caustic tongue, accusations flying one after another. It had rightfully happened. Daire knew it and had said so. To have asked Riesling for forgiveness would have been salt in the wound and an insult to injury. Daire knew she was not worthy of it, but she had apologized anyway. Not that it did much more than fall on deaf ears. And now? For this conversation to be happening?
The black brindle closed her eyes for a moment. She tried not to hear the weight in his voice as he spoke, the sadness, the sameness that drew them together. There was no hope for repair between Riesling and herself; that much was true. Daire had accepted that and swallowed it like a bitter pill: she would never be able to do right by her daughter. The weight of her guilt for having feelings for Zevulun on top of her original guilt and shame was unbearable. More than ever, Daire wanted to let it all go, leave it all behind, even the slice of heaven she'd found the few years in the quiet of the Prairie. “I can find you somewhere safe to go, to be away from me, it's the least I could do.”
Exhaustion lined her every feature, a bone-deep weariness accompanied by a most desperate loneliness. It colored every word that left her lips with a level of despondency that strained her voice. "How long must we keep punishing ourselves, do you think?" she questions faintly, her voice as thin as a ghost. 'How long until we've earned a grain of happiness,' she wondered. When Daire finally opened her eyes and finally turned their brown depths to the pale stallion, it was the oldest and most haggard the Orlov-lined mare had ever seemed. The years, the miles, the heartbreak, and the consequences of her fifteen years weighed on her so obviously it hurt to look at. The trembling in the mare's vocal chords nearly choked her. It took her a few long moments before she could go on. "I've lost so much these last few years, Zevulun," she says mournfully with a slow shake of her head. "And maybe I deserve to lose so much. . but I really don't know how much more I can take."