Ridge

CW: There will be discussions of death (parental death/death of a father specifically) and descriptions of a decomposing corpse. There are also allusions to Peyote's abusive nature with the mares he is romantically involved with. Please do not read this post or engage in this thread if that is something that could make you uncomfortable!

Also, just a small note, timeline wise this thread takes place right after his departure from the Shore in mid-summer (prior season) rather than fall (current season).

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As soon as he was freed from his temporary captivity in the Shore, Peyote did not immediately take to the seas and swim back for his beloved Lagoon. He’d taken off as quickly as he could from Nahawi’s border, should the dun stallion suddenly change his mind and decide to keep him again, but he circled back around and began picking his way carefully through the jungle. His extended stay on Atlantis wasn’t meant to be nefarious, he was not surveying the surrounding herds to try and find any easy pickings to drag back with him.

Instead, Peyote was traveling rather carefully toward the Ridge. Any sudden noise stopped the painted grullo in his tracks, blue eyes narrowing and ears swiveling to listen to figure out what the disturbance had been. It was the great hulking behemoth of a stallion that led the Ridge (or, last he knew of anyways) that he was assuming would be surging from the shadows to charge him down at any moment. Or maybe Tyr had never known Peyote was the snake to slither into the den and cause trouble… still, as the young stallion that’d tagged along his father’s heels during the entire time Tyr and Psychedelic clashed it was unlikely Tyr would be pleased to see Peyote near the Ridge borders again.

But he only wanted to know…

Was Rivka still here?

A strange sort of ache knotted tight in his chest and Peyote snorted almost angrily at it, nipping at his skin as if he could bite the offensive feeling away. The emotions he had for Rivka had always been very different than any others, even his Vervain. He had found himself wondering about their child on occasion, especially as he watched Velaris grow older. Had they had a colt or a filly? What had Rivka named it? Should he have forced her to the Lagoon like he did Vervain?

No, something reminded him of Rivka’s sad eyes, and he felt that horrible pain again, once more nipping at his own skin with aggravation. He’d been capable of bullying Vervain how he needed until he had broken and sculpted her back into what he dreamed her to be…

He had never been capable of doing such a thing to Rivka.

Abruptly, Peyote came to a swift halt and snorted loud as he looked with surprise at the lump on the ground before him. It was mostly decayed, now, but some of the coat still stretched over the skeleton and where bone did not poke through Peyote could see the familiar dull gold of his father’s coat and his distinctive paint markings. The young stallion went completely still, all thoughts of Rivka or Vervain or even Nahawi or Tyr were instantly gone.

But he wasn’t sure how he was meant to feel.

Psychedelic had spoken of his upcoming death as if it were a fact to occur any day once he had Peyote in his clutches. Most lessons had started with, When I’m not here you’ll need to know this. When the old stallion had dipped into raving madness and no longer wanted to stay bound to the Lagoon, Peyote had already considered him gone. But now, staring at the remnants of his father’s corpse rotting away in the wet jungle, he realized the finality of this moment. His father was truly gone from these islands and, by the looks of it, had been for at least a year now if not longer.

A small frown worked its way over his expression as he blinked and simply stood there, quietly staring at the empty, gaping holes in his father’s skull where eyes had once been, wondering how the end came to meet him. Did he care to know how it happened or why?

No. He didn’t.