Play Me a Memory [Ixori by Twi/Perseus by Smoky]

[Snowflake Smoky]

[bg=black] ΡΞΓςџ Chapter 1. Spun Sunlight Nothing this beautiful should belong to someone this evil... How can such a noxious soul live in a beautiful place, and yet it stays as if it were occupied by hearts made only of spun sunlight. It feels amiss. There must be something good to be found here. Perseus wrenched his mind from his thoughts. He'd do himself no good wandering around in Ramaskith's lands, pretty as they may be, if his head was somewhere else. His searching suggested that the leader was elsewhere, likely on one of his raids to conquer another territory. Until the Northern forces were lost he had little to do but rally behind them, and try and lead them to success. Since Oser and arrived though, he'd had little luck leading much of anything. It was an odd feeling, being pushed out of a position he had worked so hard to gain with Rasta's approval. A small sigh whispered out of between his lips. He knew that he wouldn't get much of anywhere by convincing himself that he needed pity. More than anything he needed companionship, and a chance to wiggle around Ramaskith's lands without getting caught. The better he knew the place, the easier it would be to launch an offensive. Not that he wasn't worried about being caught, for he was certain that Ramaskith would have left someone capable here while he was out, tricky devil that he was. Percy lowered his muzzle to the wet earth in an attempt to sniff out the equines that must be nearby. He has an army after all. It shouldn't be this quiet, this uncomfortable. Perhaps the majority of the force is out from the lands. But that implies he has left his most adept. I must be cautious. The fresh winter weather sent a shiver down Percy's spine. He had never coped as well as some heavier horses when the cold weather rolled around. He was able to venture out, but he would admit that he'd rather be cuddled up in a safe cave next to the sparking embers of a fire that rare equines knew how to light. It was a talent he'd witnessed only once or twice, from equines in the North who had picked the skill up somewhere. It was useful, and he had hoped to have learned how to do it himself by now. At the moment however he'd just have to let the frost cool his skin. At least, as of yet, there was no snow to slow his movement or leave a more obvious trail than the one that his scent, as different to this land as anything could be, would be. It was a fine land though, one he hoped that someday would be in the hands of free and just leaders. He could not change that it currently was in the hands of an equine so evil the plants probably died and rotted under his hooves. Percy would rather see the North empty than under Ramaskith's rule, though he had no claim to it other than a military leader and lifelong resident. Rasta is fair and just though. She will pardon this excursion if I rescue those that I can from Ramaskith's control. This goal in mind, he set his muzzle back to the ground and began to follow the freshest scent trail he could find. Wordcount: 559 First post in April Started a thread.

[twi]

Ixori’s breath came fast in her throat, though she tried to calm it. Her pulse raced and her heartbeat thumped in her chest. Three hours. It had been three hours since she had last seen Rama. Three hours of running, hiding, slipping through shadows, desperately trying not to leave any trace of her passing. Treacherous snow. Had it not snowed, she would have known she was safe, but the telltale hoof prints were an unspeakable liability. She had done her best to avoid the thin patches of snow, the first of the season, but for all her caution she knew that she could not have avoided all of it.
Her mind was a whirl of emotions, all tangled and mixed up. She shook her head angrily, long black mane whipping in the breeze. She did not have time for feelings. She needed to devote all her effort to escaping, to putting more distance between herself and Rama.
Her hooves hit the ground in a steady tempo as she kept herself at a controlled, mile-eating canter. Not too fast to tire herself unnecessarily, but not too slow as to not make good time, either.
You ran. You, Ixori the fearless, ran. She gnashed her teeth angrily, trying to make the voices go away. Coward.
“I’m not a coward!” She screamed the words into the open air, panting as she did.
Just because she had made the choice to save her own skin did not mean she was a coward. Just because she had chosen to run did not make her yellow. Her ire bubbled up, consuming her. Heedless of the strain on her legs, she increased her pace to a gallop, crashing through the sparse trees in an attempt to make the accusing thoughts go away. So fast that she didn’t notice the equine standing in the meadow only a little distance away.

[Snowflake Smoky]

[bg=black] ΡΞΓςџ Chapter 1. Courageous Cowards thoughts It took little more than the emergence of a distraught lady to remove Perseus from his careful attention to a fresh trail. This one was much fresher- fresh enough still be kicking- and was in quite an emotional state. That certainly warranted his attention, even if little else did. She was crashing through the trees with little attention to her own being, galloping like a mad doe through the woods. He turned for the imprint of scents on the ground, and pushed his semi-frosted body into action. Considering how much he'd been moving just minutes before, it seemed silly that his legs could stiffen up so. It was reckless for him to be chasing this fae as well, with her troubling lack of common sense. Plus, while chasing another almost black form through woodland which was becoming whiter as time passed was easy, they stuck out like sore thumbs in the landscape, and should Ramaskith come parading in, they'd be quite easy to find. He debated whether or not to yell out, for certainly having another equine on her tail must be bothering the lady, but he was a good hundred feet behind and yelling loud enough for her to hear would likely wind him too much to continue. He'd just have to wait to gain ground on her as his muscles loosened up. He pushed his legs even harder, hoping to heaven that he didn't strain something with all this lack of consideration for health and well-being. He wanted to be able to fight in the coming war drat it, not have to sit waiting to be conquered with a bad leg and a mental complex. "Miss, slow down. Honestly, I'm not dangerous." He stopped his words to draw in another breath, though it was shallow and essentially useless. He would have to stop soon, if he was hoping to preserve the state of his body. "My name is Perseus, and I'm here to rescue prisoners from Ramaskith!" He could have kicked himself. Really, could you sound like you had any more of a hero complex? You want to rescue prisoners from Ramaskith? Really? That's either a hero or a liar, and you'd rather not have her think you either one. Pathetic thing you are. Your wants completely conflict with your thoughts. He let the thoughts slide from his mind. What was done was done, and as he let his muscles slow and stop, he thought that perhaps the fae would be safer if she just kept running. If he really did have a hero complex what was to say that anyone around him was safe?

[twi]

The words took Ixori completely by surprise and she slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop, ears pinned. Her head swiveled, trying to locate the origin of the voice. Breathe. She sucked in a gulp of air, trying to clear her senses. The voice had not sounded hostile, no need to be on the defensive.
Getting nervous are we?
The painted mare gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the nagging voice. Before she knew, she’d be replying to it and then she would really be giving the impression that she was crazed.
She turned around slowly, hearing labored hoof beats coming in behind her. Instinctively, her muscles tensed, though she tried to relax them. It was a fairly harmless looking stallion, obviously trying to catch up with her. An ear flicked in annoyance as she studied him. This was no time for pleasantries!
She shifted about to face him completely, trying not to appear put out. He followed up his reassurance, saying “My name is Perseus, and I'm here to rescue prisoners from Ramaskith!”
Her ears pinned and her eyes narrowed. Forget about trying not to appear put out with him.
“First of all,” she began with barely-contained fury, “I am not Ramaskith’s prisoner! And I most certainly do NOT need rescuing, so just buzz off, will you?”
She realized that she was panting, half from exhaustion, half from rage, so took another gulp of air before whirling on her hind legs and continuing on without a backward glance. She did not resume her original pace however, because a nagging little fear in the back of her head said that maybe she had made a mistake. Maybe the black Warmblood hadn't been trying to insinuate that she was a helpless prisoner. Maybe she had misunderstood. Not that it mattered, she told herself, because she had better things to think about. Still, she contained her pace to a trot, just in case he wanted to catch up to her and apologize.