[PRP] Shadows (Zadkiel & Amat Victoria Curam)

[Summer Raaven]

This is a private RP between Uta & Summer Raaven.

 

[Summer Raaven]

She was running.

In her nightmares, the shadows consumed her. They taunted her, toyed with her. It was a game she had never signed up for, and a game she'd never win.

Always two steps behind, she could never catch up to the darkness that lingered as she slept; to the voices that ran through her mind. Whispers filled her soul, begging her to come find them. She as always running, away or toward, she couldn't tell; she never stopped running. Victoria, they seemed to breath, you know the way, Victoria, come to us. And in her nightmares, she had no choice -- all she ever did was run. Every time she felt herself get closer, she'd hear laughter in the distance, mocking her. What did they want? Why did they haunt...her? Her mother told her stories of her own demons, as a child, but somehow, these didn't seem like the same kind of demons.

They felt. Real. Dangerous.

Like she was being hunted. Tested. But for what?

The young mare bore a mask upon her face, a gift from her father. As a child she was reserved, taking in the world like the silent observer. Her upbringing was that of the unusual kind, considering her parent's background, as they were not the type for idle chatter. So Victoria never felt the desire to express herself the way a normal foal would. She instead desired knowledge, and strength from within -- strange, for a child, but it was who she was. The world was a curious place, and like her sister, she felt a connection to that which could not be explained. Her sister eventually started calling in the spirit world, Victoria just referred to it as the earth. She had a purpose on this earth, a silent, undiscovered purpose, but a purpose nonetheless. As she got older, and the mask given to her, Victoria wore it as her cover -- she would never be truly discovered with the mask on; she could fade into the background, remaining forever the quiet observer. No one need know her face, nor her name....and she'd always have the upper hand. She'd always be the one with the power.

Yet she was powerless, and mask-less, in her nightmares. When they first started to appear, the young mare searched endlessly in the darkness for her mask, only to find herself wearing it as she woke. In a panic, she'd tear it off her face, and immediately she'd feel exposed. As if the world could see through her soul, as if the demons in her nightmares could finally see the real mare behind the mask. It terrified her, and although she'd never admit that small weakness, she couldn't take off the mask anymore. She clung to the strength it gave her, to the power it gave her, and taking it off simply wasn't an option. As she'd sleep, she continue to find herself mask-less, the shadows taunting her to find them, and no matter how fast she'd run, or how hard she'd look, she'd fail. So the mask stayed on her face, if only to keep her own demons at bay. Or at least that's what she told herself.

She was running. NO!

A silent scream, and the young mare woke, her body twitching sharply as her mind tore her from the darkness. She had been dreaming....it was just a dream. Again. She sighed, and a quick shake of the head told her she still bore the mask, nothing had happened to it while she slept. It had been weeks since she had a full night's rest, the fear of losing herself to the nightmares had grown as they themselves had grown, and Victoria thought it best to avoid that world all together. What would her sister think, if she knew that Victoria's soul rejected the spirit world so harshly? That world was her sister's solace, and Victoria too felt herself drawn to it...but now, she wasn't quite so sure. What was the purpose for her dreams?

It all came back to the fact that she had a purpose on this earth, but the question remained; what. She was determined to find it, regardless of the cost. Without the answers, Victoria feared she'd never be rid of whatever or whomever it was that haunted her.

Shaking off the tired feeling that lingered from the sudden disruption in her sleep, the young mare lifted herself onto her feet, eyeing her surroundings. The sun had yet come up, and thus the world was almost utterly silent. She stood there, listening for the sound of leaves rustling, just in case whatever was out there for her was actually, truly out there. But she wasn't afraid, no. Not when she could hid herself from the world, behind her mask.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Summer Raaven

Zadkiel moved quietly, despite his large figure. It was getting late, and the stallion knew that soon enough the sun would soon lift its bright, baleful eye upon him. While he wasn't strictly a nocturnal creature, the black stallion seemed to prefer to be most active during the nighttime hours. With only the moon to watch his movements, and the stars as company, the pale eyed stallion relished being alive while others slept. Not only did it mean that there were few to see him or any of the shenanigans he might cause, but it was a time when he could actually ease his guard, and relax. The daytime was an awful mistress, and caused Zadkiel some secret anxiety. The bright sunlight often hurt his sensitive eyes and made everything brighter. Furthermore, it meant his family was terribly exposed with no where to hide. All of their spikes, bones, and strange mutations were out there for the world to see; out there for the world to judge.

Zadkiel knew what exposure did.

He knew what sort of life his family lived. His mother and father, protective and loving, had suffered terrible abuses during their times. He knew their stories of rejection, and had his own aside. Not every foal or passing soquili understood the mutant family. Strangers were quick to pass judgment; to assume that just because Zadkiel ate meat, or hunted deer, meant that they would hunt other soquili as well! How often had his delicate sisters gone out to make friends, and been shunned or turned away? How often had others tried to bully the family from their favored woods? While his father might have attempted to reason with those who were fearful, Zadkiel didn't yet have the patience for such a thing. Worse, he often found those who judged foolish, and worth every bit of trouble! Those who messed with his family might find themselves dealing with him later.

Oh, he never did anything to hurt them, but he did often cause trouble. Perhaps they found a treasured accessory stolen in the middle of the night; perhaps he disrupted a hive of bees during their afternoon journey, or bribed a bear or pack of wolves to aggravate them on their way out. If he really felt they needed a lesson, he'd haunt them; ghosting their trail, and making sure they heard of his circling, and pointed snapping of twigs. If he could hunt deer, he could hunt a soq -- and while he'd never attack or kill, he could make sure they refused to return.

Honestly, while his brother frowned at his antics, Zadkiel didn't see the harm. If it ensured others stayed away from his family, from their lands and their woods, that's all that he cared about. He was friends with many of those that lived in the area, and felt his tricks were necessary. Those who were good and kind he let alone; but those who were not? Nope. Sure, his brother warned him that someday he might trick the wrong soq, and get them all in trouble, but Zadkiel didn't quite believe it. Not many would wish to mess with creatures as spiked, clawed and fanged as his family.

This night, the dark stallion had traveled a bit farther from his homelands than usual. He was restless, and hungry. His hunting had been poor lately, and while he could eat berries, fruit, and even choke down some leaves, he found that meat was something he needed. If he didn't stumble upon a good game trail soon, he'd have to resort to something else. Nighttime wasn't the best time to hunt, but it did afford him the opportunity to track down new trails, and seek out new dens or nests. Furthermore, dawn was a good time to hunt, as animals woke, and often searched out water or food.

He drifted along, glad that he was alone. At least he'd thought he was aone. His ears picked up the softest sound of movement, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Holding his breath, the stallion paused, ears straining, trying to listen for the sound he thought he heard. Maybe he was making things up, maybe it was the wind, but something felt alive out there. Something told him he wasn't alone, and he wasn't going to ignore his instincts. As he was not afraid of anything, the stallion glanced down and pointed stepped down on a fallen limb of a tree. He wanted whatever was out there to know someone else stirred.

Maybe he'd hear a flutter of wings, or a trampling of feet; if it were some small animal or critter, perhaps he'd find a new game trail to hunt. Maybe dinner wasn't so far away after all...