Black Thorns
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First Official Store Keeper
A writer starts a book. A reader finishes it.
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Post by Black Thorns on Sept 29, 2011 17:30:07 GMT -5
Where was he?
He wasn't entirely sure. Each step took him further into this unknown land, each step sending him deeper into the unknown area of Forma Silvestris. He had gone south as soon as possible, as soon as Rasta was not watching him like a hawk to make sure he would not leave. His borders encased him, stronger than ever before. The weak, loving Scath was closed off, pushed away from any part of him. This was the real him, the normal him, the stallion named Scathashoun who felt nothing and was always, calm, cool, collected. Autumn chill bit at him, the frosted leaves crunching beneath is hooves. Without a doubt, winter was on the way. Rasta hadn't liked winter; it was cold, too cold for her thin, Arabian pelt. Scathashoun loved the winter... He loved the stark contrast; the unblemished perfection of a fresh snowfall against the black of the dead trees, the way the snowflakes settled onto his pelt and clung to his fetlocks. Winter was unmoving. Winter was still. Winter was emotionless. It wasn't like the other seasons, bursting with colour and liveliness. Scathashoun let out a sigh, steam pouring from his nostrils in curling tendrils of white. He didn't particularly enjoy autumn.
Certainly not in a place he had no idea of.
Lifting his head, he peered through the thick fog in an attempt to figure out what he thought he saw in the break of the trees. Was that who he thought it was? A horse splashed with white, locks dark was night, with the power to heal any who comes his way... Scathashoun pressed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. The type of healing he needed wasn't one of physical wounds.
He liked the pain, anyways.
Who could it hurt, really, to meet this stallion?
Besides himself, of course.
Scathashoun breathed steadily, cold air rasping against his windpipe as he tried to force himself to remember. Be calm. Be cold, but don't forget to be polite... He nodded to himself, stepping through the fog on the way to the stallion. An eagle flew overhead, nearly striking his crown on a downward scoop. Scathashoun snorted at the bird, shaking his head in annoyance. He forced himself to move no faster than a steady walk, not to pick up pace in a hurry to get to him.
"Hello." Scathashoun said quietly, no "My name is" or "Who are you?" He didn't need it. That was too close. If he was close, he would ask... and he would not ask, he would not grovel for a healing that the stag couldn't give. He didn't want it. He didn't need it.
Maybe if he said it enough, he would believe it.
--behind the post---
ICKY SHORTNESS.
Yay for trying to revive Scath! |
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Post by aPPY on Sept 30, 2011 16:51:58 GMT -5
He had been released for a few days from the battle, suffering from a wound that was far from life threatening, but the commander had told him to leave anyway. He was happy to get at least that small amount of time though. He hated this war so very much. There was no true reason to be fighting. Just because someone got power hungry. He moved quickly through the trees, keeping a steady but fast pace as he entered the familiar territory. He could almost move forward with his eyes closed he knew the land so well. Though, when the strong smell of blood reached his nose, he halted in his advance, almost tripping forward. That smell didn't belong here. He slowly walked forward, cautious now and transitioning into a different mind set. lalalalalalalalalalla dunno what to writeeeeee.
When the trees broke in front of him and he entered the clearing, he stopped in line with the trees, unable to walk any further. At first he saw the bodies, of his friends and family, littering the ground. There were a few horses standing among the wreckage, though he didn't know them; they were obviously the ones who had caused this. He stood in the shadows, unable to do anything as they looked over their destruction and prepared to leave, quickly disappearing into the trees after seeming satified.
The painted stallion found the strength to walk forward, his heart contracting with each still face he passed. He paused in front of the familiar bay figure, her light dapples gleaming in the light as the sun began to rise in the sky. He sucked in a breath, his eyes sliding shut as she stood there for a moment, overcome with pain. It was as if he could feel his heart split in two, each small rip to the tissue. His nose brushed her still warm skin, his eyes forcefully pulled shut as he fought to keep the tears from falling down his face. This was all his fault... If he hadn't of left.. If he had just... He lifted his head, taking one last look at her lifeless body. There was nothing he could do about it now; he certainly couldn't bring her back from the dead. He sighed, a shaky exhale of breath as he turned away, carefully stepping forward and back into the trees. He couldn't be here. Not now. Not ever. He picked up a trot, and then a canter, just wanting to distance himself from this place.
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Karuk trotted slowly through the trees, Kilton flying ahead of him and scouting the way. He tossed his head, his long black mane flipping into the air and back against his neck. He hadn't been anywhere near here since that day. Even now he could smell the blood in the air, even though there wasn't, it was imbedded in his mind. He hadn't realized he had been heading in the direction until it was really too late to go anywhere else. It had been home to him for so long, he couldn't blame himself. Perhaps he had always felt something pulling him back. It didn't have to be a place of just bad memories, he had plenty of good ones. He knew that day would always linger, but that didn't mean it became this place. There was more to the land than the deaths that happened so long ago.
Kilton screeched, pulling Karuk from his thoughts and making him look forward, noticing a black figure. He slowed to a walk, images of the other equines flashing in his mind. No, he took the chance to really see what stood in front of him and there was no possible way he had been one of them. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. The other equine was walking towards him, as if he had been expecting him. Had he seen him approaching before Karuk had realized his presence? Kilton circled back around, quickly swooping in and claiming his perch on the stag's withers, his talons digging into the skin there but quickly releasing once he was sure him momentum had faded and he wasn't going to topple off.
"Hello," the ebony stag said softly, quietly. Karuk stopped walking once he thought he was close enough, inclining his head in awknowledgement. "Good day," he replied, Kilton squawking with impatience. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked, not quite sure what the stallion wanted from him. He appeared to have approached him with a purpose and so he gave him the chance to say what he wanted. His ears flickered, listening as the birds began to chirp in the trees, awakening with the sun and beginning their day. The area was still foggy, more so because of the early hour, the moisture sticking to Karuk's pelt and leaving a damp look to the hairs. The grasses moved with the autumn breeze, drops of dew wavering and sliding down the blades, leaving that smell of rain in the air though there hadn't been a storm recently.
// 856 words o.o I didn't feel that long when I wrote it. lol.
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Black Thorns
« Store Keeper »
First Official Store Keeper
A writer starts a book. A reader finishes it.
Posts: 254
|
Post by Black Thorns on Oct 8, 2011 21:01:02 GMT -5
"Is there something I can help you with?"
He ached to reach, plead, for a healing, for the shaman to reach deep into his soul and make him whole, to give him what he never had; yet even the power of this magic man couldn't repair him. He forced his breath to keep even, his head shaking slowly. "No, no I don't believe you can help me, not wi- no, I'm sorry. I don't know why I bothered you, Karuk." Scathashoun felt the eyes of the eagle staring into him, boring burning holes into his skull, searing judgement through him. Scathashoun's skin twitched, disturbed at the eagle's apparent intelligence. "Why does this eagle stay with you so?" he asked, head tilted slightly.
--behind the post--
crappy. hate it
i had no idea what to write |
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Post by aPPY on Oct 25, 2011 19:12:13 GMT -5
The strange dark horse stood there, thinking. Karuk waited for him to speak, wondering what he wanted. He slowly shook his head, as if coming to a decision and answering him finally. He refused his help, saying there was nothing that he could help him with and then colling him by name as he seemed to become a little confused. "How-" he started to question before the stag interrupted him with a question of his own. "Why does this eagle stay with you so?" he asked, his head comically tilted to the side just a tad. The sudden change in subject made Karuk a little confused himself, having to think and regather his thoughts before he would properly reply. "I found him when he was young, he had fallen from his nest," the painted shoulders shrugged, "He found it content to stay with me after that." He finished matter of factly.
Why did the creature know his name? No one should know it unless he knew them. It's not like he was just known by people, like some were. He was just a random being. The fact that he did know his name was a little unnerving. And the fact that he was here, in the place, just added to the eerie feeling. "How do you know my name?" he asked, finishing off the question he had started earlier. He certainly didn't know his name, so how had the ebony figure learned his?
// 245 words you gave me crappy, so you get crappy back. pfft.
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