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 Posted: Sat Dec 20, 2008 10:04 pm
He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past day. The stallion was certainly in no shape to move, and could have easily been passed for dead covered in muck, grime, and (mostly) blood. Curled up in a heap deep within the heart of the woods, close to the mountains, it was lucky for Chandar that not many wandered so deep. . . much less to an area where many of the trees were dead. Within this empty woods, life was in short supply . . . the surrounding trees were empty, grey, and merely a corpse of what they once were. Leaves refused to sprout in the springtime, with few creatures bothering such a dead sort of land.
Chandar had been one of them to stay. . . . it was where hooves refused to travel that the vibrant green and black stallion chose to seek his home; yes, he guaranteed his lonliness and misery out of habit. . . . There was no use or place for one with a soul so bitter and gnarled. There was no place for him regardless, that much he had found out through experience.
So it was in these dead glades he prowled, but it was here in these glades that he came face to face with his own mortality. Chandar had never believed himself to be immune to death but it wasn't something he thought of. It was . .too depressing. None would weep for him, none would notice that the stallion was forever away. Why the skinwalker didn't feast on his corpse, he plum couldn't say, but for whatever reason death didn't come. . . .
It was waiting, and even after a near day of shallow breathing, Chandar still felt the life within him. He was weak, and with every passing moment he knew that even his body would succumb, but exactly how he didn't know; blood loss was a possibility, freezing during the fast approach of night was another. If he didn't find help soon (and who would come to his aid here, even if he wished it?) he would soon be dead.
Eventually his life would give in and he would breathe his last breath.
A fitting ending for one that should never have been born. A fitting ending for one who had always been labeled 'unwanted'.
Heaving a rattled breath, the pain in his ripped up and broken body immense, Chandar was left solely with his thoughts and the taste of his blood upon his tongue. Chunks were torn out of him, gashes so deep they exposed bone; his left front leg was near useless he could tell, and his underbelly had multiple punctures from jabbing hooves and claws. The skinwalker had been a female, and though he had put up a great fight, she was still far too greater a match. . . .
He had fallen but she hadn't meant to kill. In fact, the stallion found himself even more enraged that he was rejected and unwanted even by the murdering folk. Was he not good enough to be slain? WHy, why, WHY!? He was too weak to kill himself, so all he could do now was wait. . . .
Gasping for breath, overwhelmed by pain, and idlng his last days on the blood stained floor of his grove.
Pitiful.
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Posted: Tue Jan 06, 2009 7:18 pm
It was nice to finally be in a place where snow and ice wasn't littering the ground. But in exchange for solid footing, Beatrice found she lost the snow's bonus of camouflage.
There amongst the soaked foliage, where melting snow and ice created muck and moss seemed to be growing in surplus, she might as well have been a beacon of light, a shinning pale ghost of the sunset against the darkness that swelled around her. Self-loathing for such an accursed appearance had her grumbling lightly, taking mental notes it was her father to be blamed, like always, for her misfortune.
But then, what couldn't she blame on him? She and her brother had grown up with their mother alone, their sire long gone by the time their baskets had opened and the foals stumbled into the harsh world. Surely the girl had issues, obsessing over her rage towards the never before seen stallion. At least it didn't stem trust issues. She had a few male friends, and was fully aware of the fact she could always go to Jaci should she need help with... well, anything she could think of. Really, beyond her said pathetic father, she really didn't know of many bad experiences with men in her li-
Oh. Wait, no. She did.
Beatrice snorted, scowling as she thought of one stallion whom, even after so long since their "meeting" still boiled her blood. In the back of her mind, she could feel the Other chuckle, having long since informed Tris of her amusement towards seeing the usually "tame" mare getting so impossibly pissed just because of some exchange of words. It was true though, and the more Tris thought about it, the more she scowled. Usually she was able to keep a much more level head than that, but something about that guy just... really made her want to kick him in the face.
Maybe I've spend too much time with Trigger, she thought to herself with a snort, earning even more laughter from the said Other.
Shaking her head, Beatrice continued on, settling her gaze on the ground before her as she picked her way carefully through the shadowed forest. Around her, she noticed a slow change in the scenery. The usually vibrant green was fading, taking on more sickly gray tone. The further into the forest she went, the grayer everything became - and the sharper the scent of death became.
Her body balked against continuing on her current path, but something - not Trigger, not Tris, but... something - willed her on to find the source. The ground grew softer, grime sticking to her hooves as she made her way onward. Head lowered slightly, her eyes strained against the darkness of the wood, muscles screaming at her to get out of there. Instinct kept her alive, and usually she listened to it else fell into the void of her mind to allow Trigger into power instead. But now..? She held power, but ignored her better judgment in the same breath.
It wasn't death, she realized with a jolt, hooves sliding on something slick that caused her to stumble. Balance saved, she glared down at the ground, sniffing lightly at the oddly colored soil. Immediately she recoiled, teeth bared in reflex. Blood... there was blood on the ground... and on the trees, as if something brushed against them...
No, it wasn't death she smelt, but it was something close to it.
Someone that could still be alive.
Her pace picked up, hooves slamming into the filth of the muddy ground, splattering herself with the grime as she weaved through the trees and leapt over fallen trunks and rocks. Whatever it was, it hadn't gone far... the scent of fading life was growing stronger, and as she slowed, her eyes picked out a mass not far before her.
The injured one..? Carefully she slowed to a halt, ears twitched towards the figure as her eyes tried to pick out features to say if approaching was safe or not. The faint breaths caught her attention, and she frowned slightly, taking a hesitant step... then another... and another. "You still conscious..?" she ventured softly, head lowered to take a careful sniff towards the other. She could see no wings, no paws... not a Kalona or Skinwalker at least - though those were probably the culprits for the other's injuries.
Beatrice kept her distance still though. Incoming death usually made creatures more violent, from what she'd seen of small things the two-leggers caught. Yet... the scent... beneath the grime and death...
Who knows - maybe she'd get lucky and he'd pick a fight with a Skinwalker.
She yelped, taking sharp steps back as her eyes flew open wide, unable to stop staring at the figure on the ground. No way... no way it was him?!
Her malicious prayer echoed in her mind along with Trigger's roaring laughter, making her wince slightly. The anger she felt towards him faded only slightly, though she took a step back towards him with an expression caught somewhere between disbelief, laughter, and shame.
"Damn... you must have the worst luck of them all. That volatile temper of yours get you into this?" Sighing she rolled her shoulders, looking about. "...well hell, you picked a lovely place to die. It's defiantly more than a day's run to the nearest healer, if this is where I think it is... s**t..."
Her voice had long since turned thoughtful, not even noticing she was actually speaking aloud. Trigger was screaming at her in her head, making it difficult to think. It wasn't like she could just leave him like this... right? Surely she was to blame for this one, wishing it upon him like that. Maybe she could run and get someone..? And race back? He'd probably be dead by then... and she knew no one who roamed around here... She was too weak to support his weight, and somehow, she doubt he could even stand in his current condition.
She'd have to run then... she cursed, snapping her teeth together as she tried to judge her own speed versus distance and how long he probably had left to live. "Well... this sucks..."
"Are you seriously thinking of helping him? WHY? Let him die - it'll be funny to watch, 'specially if you bait him on a bit."
Only, unlike the oh so evil one, Tris was not a fan of guilt, and that was currently the ruling force that made her glare with a oddly burning yet worried look at the black and green stallion. She hated feeling guilty! It sucked worse than anything!
And like hell she'd let her self feel his death of all people was on her shoulders!
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Posted: Tue Jan 20, 2009 9:22 pm
The fates hated him. Chandar had come to such a knowledge and understanding of his lowly state since he'd first stepped out of his basket; there had been none to cuddle him, none to properly nourish him, and he had known lonliness from day one. He had tried to fight the darkness and the self-hate but after witnessing countless families and never finding a single soul to guide him one coldn't help but feel rejected. The local villages found the thief-colt to be a nusiance and his desperate measures of survival had transformed him in to a bitter and cold creature. There was no light in his heart, so calloused he'd become; strangers meant nothing to him, and Beatrice had been mostly forgotton.
It was only now, lying near death, that she would return to goad him on. He had frustrated her and yet here she appeared; the surly female whom hadn't even noticed he'd been initially TRYING to be polite. And polite was a rarity for the stallion; her reaction to his words had reiterated the fact that kindness meant little when ti came from him so he plum shouldn't have bothered. All it had resulted in was a fight and needless waste of energy. But here she walked. . . to witness him so vulnerable caused shame to twist within his stomach.
But it was getting hard to see, and everything was a blur of shadow, light, and crimson. His temper had indeed gotten him in trouble though whether words had been exchanged or not, Howl had no intention of leaving him unscathed. Chandar wanted to tell the mare to bugger off, to just leave him in peace, but he had no strength. . . grunting, a slightly gurgled sound, was all he managed before he took another shallow breath and closed his eyes.
Well. . . at least she'd run off in a hurry. Now if only the pain wold subside and he could drift in to an endless sleep. It wouldn't be long now, so he imagined; fitting that he should suffer a drawn out end.
Kaiya walked beside her newest companion, the young stallion Galahad. It was a pleasant change from her usual solo journey's; though she had tried to talk him out of aid the stallion had insisted on healing her wounds and sticking around. He was unperterbed by her occassional need to take flight and always met up with her in due course. He was her champion and held a pure heart; no, Kaiya knew she could never save the world alone. No, Galahad would make a good addition to the fight for peace, and the mare found herself content with his company.
"Dreary place, isn't it?" Galahad's voice cut in to her thoughts, and the mare gave a chuckle and nod.
"It certainly wouldn't be my first choice to settle," she softly replied, "But we may find those that feel otherwise." She wasn't one to judge the habitats of others, though signs of death and decay caused her to be alert. This place wasn't so much a home as a graveyard with dead trees and few grasses. Few could live here long, she imagined, and those that did had to be half starved. With luck they would find some local habitants and perhaps be able to spread their word of peace and joy.
Ah, but both stallion and mare paused in their walk as the sounds of movement reached their ears. Galahad took a step forward (even though he knew full well his angeni companion could take care of herself), ears pricked and ready to defend his chosen Lady of Light. It didn't take long for Beatrice's form to appear before them, and while Kaiya studied the pale mare with interest, Galahad looked beyond her for the source of her fear. Strangely enough, there was nothing vicious to be seen, and no other rustles in the woods to lay claim to her being stalked.
Silently, the two stood, waiting to see if Beatrice passed or was in need of some assistance.
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Posted: Sun Feb 15, 2009 7:12 pm
"I wonder who it is exactly you inherited this meddling gene from..." Trigger's disembodied voice was icy despite her attempts at keeping it nonchalant. It didn't matter, Tris had to agree. Surely this couldn't fall under her mother's kind nature solely, but perhaps it was a perverted version due to her sire. Perhaps even, it was Jaci's wise-old-stallion's demeanor that was rubbing off on her. Even his youngest, that strange little mare, had it in her. That strange, uncontrollable curiosity and desire to help.
But had they ever caused someone to end up injured and dying? She heavily doubted it. No, that lucky honor was reserved for her and her alone.
Her thoughts bitter, pace brisk, she but turned round one more tree before two figures of light grew before her, startling the young female. How strange were both, but the female in particular held her attention fast and strong. For multiple reasons, really.
First and foremost, the fair mare was a being of the heavens, if her recollections of foalhood stories were correct. But... what was such a divine creature doing here of all the accursed places? Unless... that was the reason they were both here, point and case. Which... would explain the second reason Tris was rather intrigued by the two.
Trigger was going absolutely bull. s**t.
The other was actually getting a headache right now from how the other flexed and snarled, her powers slamming against the thin membrane that kept their consciousnesses separate. It was a reflexive, instinctive series of reactions, all the traditional shows of "stay the hell away from me" from a creature completely incapable from preventing their perceived threat from approaching.
But why? What could this strange creature do to Trigger? Beatrice shook her head, slowing before them to catch her breath and briefly lower her head in a minute show of respect and greeting. Now was far from the time to practice formalities or pondering her alter ego's strange, unseen behavior.
"Sorry, but please, I need your help. Well, not me, but another. He's hurt - bad. Something 'round here got him and left him for dead, but... well, guess he's too stubborn to go so easily." Would they reject her plea due to her horrible manors? She prayed to whatever forces were out there that they wouldn't. Already her hooves backpedaled towards where she raced from, though she still faced them, pink eyes darting from unicorn to angel in rushed begging. Impatience colored her form, movements jerky and sharp.
"You couldn't seek the help of anyone else but this damned thing?" was Trigger's snarling, making Tris wince as she felt the mental fangs of the other graze the membrane. But Beatrice was not one to be picky, and this mare was of the divine, the stallion a healer of his own right with that silver spear twisting from his forehead. Surely something up there was sending her the luck she needed so desperately in this impossible find.
Maybe her guilt was good enough to gain her the favor she needed to help the other unfortunate soul? She'd be willing to fully accept that if such was the case.
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 1:26 am
The angeni could tell there was something not entirely right about the pale coated mare before her. Whatever it was that wasn't 'right', the details were unknown to Kaiya, but it was something she kept tucked in the back of her mind. For now, there was a new more immediate concern at hand and the mare wasted no time.
"Take us there," she commanded firmly but not unkindly. Her duo-toned eyes were serious as her brow knit in concern. Never would the angeni turn one away from her, especially one in need. Something deep within her heart told her to prepare for the worst. . . thankfully though, her own healing abilities would now be aided by Galahad. How many more had they saved thanks to his talent and ability?
Racing through the underbrush, Kaiya said little. Silently she said a prayer to the gods in hopes that they might cast mercy on the ill. Death wasn't something she hoped to discover this day.
Chandar knew he was screwed. He was struggling to breathe and the blood that surrounded him would soon be his grave. So this was how everything was going to end. . . . His greatest accomplishment would soon to be nothing but nourishment for the worms and maggots of the earth.
What a life.
If the stallion were any more sensitive he might regret his life. On the other hand, there was very little for the stallion to regret. No parents, one friend whom he'd bumped in to twice out of all the years of his life, and nothing bt a slew of trouble. How many fights had he caused? How much trouble had he dug up under a need for attention and a desire to learn?
And oh, for the longest time, Chandar had tried to do good and be right. . . How hard had he tried to follow the few rules he'd heard. But being a tiny colt all on his own, with no where to go, the stallion had learned the hard way that some rules were meant to be broken, especially out of desperation to survive. No one wanted him. . . no one cared about him. . . . and only after he realized this did his innocence pass. If he didn't take care of himself no one would. . .
But lately even Chandar didn't care to survive. Why else back talk a skinwalker, a creature of night mare and horror? No, he didn't care about himself or anyone else. . . . Best to bare his teeth and allow his acidic tongue to tear about anyone who dare to draw near.
He was worthless, a failure, and even death was hesitant to fetch him. Heaving a ragged breath, the stallion closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.
Thankfully, the inevitable neer came. Though Chandar's body succumbed partially to the loss of blood, knocking the stallion out cold, Beatrice lead angeni and unicorn swiftly through the underbrush.
It wasn't hard to see what had happened, though Galahad did havve severe reservations about the timing of their approach. The black and neon green stallion looked dead, but a second more closer take proved that breath still causedh is chest to rise and life. "It's shallow but he's still alive," he noted, wasting no time and dropping down beside the fallen male.
Truly it was a blood bath and the stallion had to keep himself from gagging. Focusing upon his strength, just as his mother had taught, the stallions golden horn began to glow at the tip. "Hang in there," he murmured as his green eyes closed.
Kaiya had moved herself to the other side of the stallion, reaching down to drop her muzzle gently against his neck. Her own eyes closed, the mare spread her wings wide before ever so tenderly wrapped Chandar within them. Her own body seemed to glow and shimmer with a heavenly light as she focused on her healing. She wasn't a true cleric, but she had been gifted with a few abilities to rescue the damned and those in need.
And this one was more tattered both spiritually and physically than she had seen in awhile. He was no monster but he did need help; thankfully though, there were three of them here to do such a thing.
Healing the stallion took time. By the time Galahad and Kaiya had healed the worst of his wounds, dusk wasn't terribly far off. The dead land around them had taken a more comforting presence, but anything evil lurking nearby was wise enough to stay clear of the duo while they worked. Nothing would harm the bloodied soul and somehow any curios beings who might lurk nearby were intelligent enough to keep away.
Blood stained but pleased with her work, the angeni mare finally turned her gaze up to Beatrice. "Forgive my neglect," she announced, voice weary. "But thanks to you, this poor soul shall recuperate fully with time and a little care." Gazing at Beatrice, the winged mare studied her for a moment, canting her head to the side as if in deep thought.
Galahad rose as well, staggering but a moment before fully catching himself. His pale coat was also stained crimson as he looked between his chosen companion and the pale and pink-swirled mare. ". . . he'll survive the night but is in no shape to move soon. There were many wounds we were unable to tend." Green eyes looked down to the ebony stallion who would be further battle scarred from his adventure.
Kaiya looked away from Beatrice, turning her gaze back down to the soul they had just saved. Older scars spoke of an active life, but Kaiya was also gifted enough to feel the scars of a soul. Both Beatrice and Chandar were broken individuals, and Kaiya fully intended on keeping an eye on the pair. They too could use a little guidance. . . but with luck the heavens would smile down upon them both. Beatrice herself was a mystery Kaiya had not quite experienced before. . . .
There was something off about her unlike many of the damned and hurting she had seen. But, like all mysteries, it was not yet her time to unravel her. . .
No, for now, she had a request. "Tell me, stranger," she spoke softly, "might you be willing to bear his burden as your own? My partner and I, I fear, cannot stay. . . but would you offer him the care he needs?" What sort of heart was within this mare. She knew it was gentle, her earlier concern was genuine; but was she maternal enough to stick with another during their time of need?
If she refused than so be it. . . other arrangements could always be made. But for now, the most obvious choice would be made. "He's healed but still in poor shape; it'll take time for him to fully gain his strength, time for his body to recover enough for him to be well on his own. I also dare say companionship might do him good. . ." The last statement was more a murmur to herself than Beatrice, but still easily heard.
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Posted: Sat Apr 04, 2009 4:35 pm
If ever she could be cheering for the intervening of the divine, now would be the time. The strangers' sure footing and brisk speed was heaven sent as far as she was concerned, racing back to the fallen stallion with the first giddy, hopeful joy she'd felt in a long time. Even if the emotion was a tad presumptuous and early - after all, he wasn't out of the woods (literally or figuratively) yet.
Their arrival herald her stomach rolling with the increased scent of metal and death, standing back from the mess and gore as the two set to healing. Light, soothing and not at all blinding despite the sensation of looking into the sun, came from both, and in that moment Beatrice felt... odd. A weight was lifted from her body, the pressure in her mind vanished as if melted away by the light. Childish envy perked up, envy towards the grouchy male for being able to be so close to the divine mare; mature concern became more prominent, shoving aside an adolescent's guilt and willing peaceful recoveries to him. How strange it was, for all these various emotions to play around in her mind, the space having doubled with the loss of the other. It was a sensation she'd never felt, having no memories of a time before Trigger. Was this what it felt like to be one's own being?
Waiting for the healing to be finished was just as nerve slashing as ever, even with this new personal mind to explore. Just because one problem was mysteriously kicked aside for the moment, didn't mean she was suddenly free to frolic and play. As the day wore on, Beatrice stood in silence and contemplation, watching with a guardian's patience as flesh and muscle and bone were repaired. The pale mark of scares made her blink, raise a brow in delicate notice, but she could neither sneer or smirk at them. If anything... she found they did his temperament justice.
"Miss me?"
The snarling venom in her mind made Tris wince, biting back a yelp as she shook her head almost violently. The space in her mind was back to being its usual cramped self, the light having vanished and with it the foul mare returning with a vengeance. No fear came to her though, Tris being suddenly confident Trigger wouldn't risk a confrontation with the two before them. "Looks like you get your wish - the brute will live to terrorize again," she commented gruffly in response to the healers' remarks.
Heat pooled in her cheeks, though more from the Angeni's kindness than the other's snarling. She wasn't concerned with what they couldn't hear. "No need to apologize, ma'am, he's the one you had to tend to after all." Her tail flicked in embarrassment, unused to such attention. "I'm just glad to hear he'll be alright," she added with a small smile to the stallion, diverting her gaze back to the stallion on the ground. He was safer thing to look at than the divine and her companion, and now that he wasn't a bloody mess her stomach wasn't doing protesting flips either.
The female's voice broke through her rambling thoughts, startling her as she looked back to the pale eyes. Almost at once confusion rained down upon her, along with Trigger's rather loud complaints against what the Angeni was suggesting. So much so, that it became rather hard to hear the requests. "Wait... what?" Her ears flicked towards the other, head cocking to the side as she tried to catch the words more clearly over Trigger. "Care for... him..?" Her voice trailed around, looking darkly between her and the black and green mound.
Tris scowled, clicking her tongue in slight annoyance. Not towards the request, but rather, towards the reaction she suspected she'd get from him once he found out about this. "I've got nothing better to do," she started bluntly, cross temper seeping into her words, "but I doubt he'll be happy to hear about it."
If she had a body of her own, Tris had no doubt Trigger's jaw would have fallen to the floor right about now. "Please tell me you're kidding..."
"I'll stay with him till he's strong enough to chase me off, to that I give you my word." Muscles flexing at the idea of the sort of verbal and maybe physical complaints he'd give till then, her smile was amused as she took a few steps towards him before looking back to the mare with a somber look. "With all due respect, I'd rather not have to call upon your aid again to heal me if I pressed my luck and try to hang around him any longer than that." Though her tone was light-hearted, she'd never deny the truth of it all.
"Have I ever told you how much I hate you?"
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Posted: Thu Apr 16, 2009 9:19 am
Galahad said nothing as Kaiya and Beatrice spoke. Exhausted beyond measure, but satisfied with his work, he gazed down at the broken and battered soquili before him. He felt pity for the creature--pity and grief. His life had been particularly blessed, but this one seemed to live a life completely different.
Chandar had scars that spoke of trouble from years past. To run into a skinwalker, and to live through it-- even with his physical wounds taken care of, what of the trauma and pain that would come after? What would become of him once they left? Death mighth ave been spooked away for now, but what of later? And would this mare care for him as he needed to be tended?
Galahad had half a mind to request they linger--but it wasn't his place. If Kaiya felt it was time to move on, than so be it. He wouldn't get in her way or object. She taught him patience, and that there were always reasons for the way things went. The gods and spirits had their secrets, and it was up to them to have faith. Just as she had faith in them, so Galahad had faith in her. And what of this poor stallion? What did he believe in? And would they find the monster that did this?
...honestly, Galahad hoped so. Someone needed to defend those in the Kawani. If only they had been there sooner. They might not have been able to keep him from harm, but they saved him from death--and perhaps his story would continue with Beatrice at his side.
Honestly, the stallion could only hope as much. He just had to have faith.
Kaiya's expression never changed, even as she understood the shock, surprise and a moments uncertainty cross Beatrice. She wasn't leaping at the chance to watch over the fallen stallion, but the mare also understood that the stallion probably was confrontational. His old wounds spoke of a life full of thoughtlessness, or at the very least, aggression. But she had seen the heart of killers, murderers, of those cast aside from the gentility of the world. . . . Beatrice herself was in need of hope, as was the neon green and ebony soul at their feet.
With luck, they could find some hope together. Or at least until they parted ways. Kaiya was indeed a meddling sort, it was in the angeni's ways to do as much. She'd been gifted with various powers and a need to help any and all. Beatrice and Chandar were no different. . .
"I know it isn't something you look forward to but remember, he is very weak. He won't be running anyone off for awhile yet, that much I can guarantee." Shuffling her wings, the mare gave a tired but small shake of her head. "May you both find the patience you need these next few days and may the spirits smile down upon you both." Dipping her head, she bowed to Beatrice in the most courtly of manners, sincerity lacing her body language.
"Take care and fare well. If you need anything at all . . . pray and seek out hope. You'll be surprise who or what might hear you." Turning her duo-toned eyes on Galahad, it was with an unspoken word that the pair slipped out and away, leaving Beatrice with Chandar.
Another fifteen minutes passed in peace before the groggy stallion finally came to. He felt nauseous and weak and his first reaction was to try to flail and push himself back to his feet. It didn't happen. In fact, the sheer need of moving brought pain and with a soft grunt he decided it best to just be still. The pain he felt now wasn't nearly as intense or excruciating as he had felt earlier. But things weren't completely right. . . .
"What happened. . . . ?" He half groaned, more to himself than Beatrice. In fact, the blue eyed male had yet to set his sights on the pink maned mare. His mind remembered meeting that wretched bear-pelted, deer-horned creature. He remembered an exchange of venom-filled words but otherwise could recall nothing. . . . Just pain. The taste of blood. A desire for death. And now. . here he was. . .
Still in pain but without death.
Figures. He couldn't even get killed properly, son of a b***h. Grunting lightly, the stallion closed his eyes. He smelled strange - there were scents of others on him, and one scent that he knew he'd smelled before. But who or what was it. . . . Female, no doubt, but it wasn't as if Chandar were the sort to consort with anyone. Oblivious to her presence, his questions would be answered soon enough.
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 11:27 pm
Beatrice had gave her simple acceptance of the other mare's words, a polite good-bye with a deep bow as a show of respect and thanks. Yet she was left with strange words to puzzle over, pondering what exactly the future would have in store for her... them. She settled down a few feet from the now resting and recovering male, keeping an eye yet allowing her mind to wander and travel. Who -what- would hear her? Someone like her..? Trigger, perhaps, in a twisted "This is my body, too" sort of thing she supposed - but beyond that? It was a miracle the angeni was so close, but not a miracle she expected to repeat itself any time soon.
"Not that you can complain, of course~"
She sighed, giving a reluctant grunt that was neither agreement nor argument. She was done with self-pity, focusing instead on the Soquili that really needed her attention right now.
It was nice to have the moment to rest, to relax and let time pass her by. It'd been a while since she just lay somewhere, not feel the constant pull to travel and put as much distance between herself and... whatever. Not that she could run from this situation. Too much guilt, and as it was, she'd given the healer her word. Kind of can't go back on that, now can she?
Truly, the best way to lose track of time is to lose oneself in thoughts. A vague sound, a rough breath, and she blinked her bright eyes, focusing on the dark and neon mass. "It speaks," was the sneer remark from Trigger as he managed out some tattered words.
"You almost died," she stated simply. Her voice was soft, no scorn or laughter present. Now did not seem like the time to antagonize him. "Then an angeni and a uni healed you. I came in between the two events." So she did run off to find help, but for some reason, she didn't have the desire to say such. Not that it wouldn't sit well, but rather... it just didn't seem relevant right now. Let him first react to her presence, then see what happens.
"I think I might die laughing if he starts cussing you out."
"It's kind of obvious but... you should rest a bit longer. You're still in no shape to move around."
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Posted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 9:56 am
The stallion was still sore, still groggy, and incredibly weak. He wreaked of blood and wanted desperately to get rid of the scent, and yet he could not. . . Not yet, at any rate. Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, did the cogs of his mind grasp on to Beatrice's words as they painted a picture in his mind. . . . There was the fight. . . and then Beatrice. . . and then healing between an angel and a unicorn? It sounded so surreal that Chandar almost wanted to scoff.
But the fact he was alive, the fact his wounds were healed (if not completely) proved that the pale mare beside him spoke the truth.
Why he'd been spared, he'd never know. . .and why the spirits had to throw her at him, once again, he could only imagine. They certainly hadn't gotten off to a good start back upon the mountain. . .and with her by his side now, he could only wonder if she were some long-running joke by the gods. Were they mocking him?
Hell yes.
But there wasn't much he could do. And somewhere, deep down, the stallion came to a bitter revelation that if the pale and pink mare hadn't come to his aid. . . he would be very much a corpse. She had saved his life, strangely enough. . . and despite his walls and barriers, that did mean something to the stallion. . .even if it was something he didn't entirely trust or understand.
Grunting, Chandar rested his head back down upon his forelegs, his brows knitting in a scowl but no hostility or anger behind his gaze. There was confusion, yes, and the wary mistrust of a stranger. . . but he was too exhausted to keep up his charade. He was too hurt, too confused, and too damned tired for such games. No . . . he did need to rest, regardless what his stubborn pride said.
"I don't intend to move," he grumbled, unable to look Beatrice in the eye. "But I'm alive. . . You really don't have to stay." Perhaps she was the sort that would harbor too much guilt to leave. He was a stranger, and she had no need to keep an eye on him. . . He certainly couldn't walk or move, so it wasn't as if he'd chase her down or cuss her out. If he dismissed her, allowed her the option to go, surely she would take it.
Best to leave him in peace to lick his wounds clean. . . That's just the way it always had been, and always would be. No one stuck long around him and that. . .that was just fine, or so he tried to believe.
Surely the snappy mare was no different than everyone else he'd ever met.
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Posted: Tue Jun 23, 2009 5:10 pm
"Has the whole universe gone soft? Ugh..."
The smile on the pale and pink mare probably wasn't the most well placed to the outside world, but at least she was able to control it enough to not show the victorious grin she had internally against her darker mental companion. She was pleased though, toning the expression down to one of quiet acceptance when her new found charge didn't chase or cuss or whatever else have you.
It was hard to ignore the spark of pity though, something she thought she'd been able to hide away even if she couldn't do the same with the guilt. "I'm fine here," she said simply, an easy shrug as she remained where she'd curled up. "Besides, when you do need to get up, you're gonna need someone to help you to the river to clean up."
A day of running was not especially tiresome, though the worry that added into the mix and the sudden relief did serve to drain a bit of energy. Carefully she eyed him, thinking again about the kind angeni's words. He was civil now at least... had the previous really all been her fault? When she'd done nothing- well, can't exactly say that.
She sighed, a sound of defeat and laughter mixing in the air. "Look, we got off on the very wrong hoof last time, and at this point, I really don't care why or who started it. I'm sticking around until you're back to your old self - whatever that may be." Beatrice took her silence then, settling her head down though sleep did not come. She would relax, but rest was not for her now, such a task belonged to another. Within her skull, Trigger paced and snapped her mental maw, frustrated with the sudden calmness that lay over the area. The angeni and unicorn were good - Beatrice couldn't feel the presence of the darkness that lived in the area previously, though it didn't mean all dangers were gone.
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Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2009 2:59 am
Chandar didn't like being at the whim of some female. No, it wasn't the fact that Beatrice was a girl that drove him crazy, it was the fact that it was Beatrice. Their first meeting really hadn't gone over very well, more so for Chandar because he had honest-to-goodness only tried to help her out.
She had unknowingly spurned his attempt to be cordial and kind and had taken offense to his advice. It had hurt which had caused him to grow bitter and angry all over again. Here he'd tried to play nice and it had backfired! Such was the story of his life. . . . Nothing ever came easy to the ebony and neon green soquili.
Even death.
Still, his ears did twitch as the mare had spoken. He wasn't going to admit needing help or aid, but he doubted he'd be able to make it to the waters edge himself. And the more she spoke about it, the more parched his mouth became. A drink sounded absolutely wonderful but he didn't dare risk moving. The pain that would come would be immense he was sure. . . . .
So he'd wait.
And endure the mare's company until he lost his mind, temper, or both and drove her away. That was at least something he could excel at, right. . .? Playing the mean b*****d. What a thing to be proud of. Sighing lightly, Chandar too waved the white-flag of surrender. She wasn't going to leave yet and he hadn't the strength of mind or body to push her away. . . besides, she was willing to help and actually HAD helped him. . . . .
That said something for her character, at the very least. "Then consider us started over," he grunted, voice harsh but not necessarily mean or unkind. In fact, his gruff demeanor wasn't aimed at her and just seemed to naturally come to him. It was almost as if he was always on the defensive, and in Chandar's case, he truly was.
"I . . . appreciate your concern." Even quieter, as he turned his head away form the mare, he added, ". . . thank you."
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Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 12:10 am
An honest smile formed as she listened to him, allowing her gaze to stay on his form for a few moments. Perhaps it was only the exhaustion that did it but she was grateful nonetheless for a far more approachable conversation this time around. Rough around the edges, but Beatrice found it wasn't the most horrible disposition to date. She could think of a few others she'd be worse off with. Heck, she even got a nice acknowledgment! A thank you! The huge grin plastered on her face was impossible to resist, though it was nothing less than genuinely thrilled at this turn of events. The day was improving immensely. First she figured she'd jinxed a guy to death, and now here they were exchanging civil words. Miracles apparently can happen.
Sometimes.
Maybe.
She'll take what she can get~! "I'm no saint, but I've still got a heart," came her awkward response, not pushing her luck with a lame you're welcome or some such.
Her pink eyes slid closed for a moment, ears flicking to the sounds of the empty forest around them. Trees creaking in a breeze mainly, the breathing of herself and.... and... Her eyes flew open and fell once or twice more in daft blank blinks. Skull lifting from its resting position, she stared for a moment longer before finally venturing, "If we've started over, then perhaps we should introduce ourselves?"
It suddenly seemed odd, having just spent all that time fussing and running and having not the slightest clue the stallion's name. "I go by Beatrice, Tris for short." She paused for a moment before adding, silly as it was, "Nice to meet you." Silly, and yet... somehow fit.
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Posted: Sun Nov 21, 2010 10:36 pm
The stallion was still in pain, was still hurting, and desperately wanted something to drink. Still, he was more exhausted than anything, even the exchange of a few words was tiring. His body was using all its energy to recouperate and help heal the trauma he had experienced. . . He was likely going to feel worse the longer he rested, but there was little to be done about it.
Chander truly didn't expect Beatrice to stay. He was already guessing that sooner or later, she would excuse herself and continue on her way. Surely she had a life he was unintentionally interrupting. Surely she had better places to be. . . but . . . she said she would stay, and he wouldn't continue to question or press the matter.
"I'm no saint, but I've still got a heart."
Huh. The stallion felt his expression twitch, and he almost wanted to smile. But his gruff nature quickly took over, and instead he gave a small snort. The pain was . . .startling. . . but he tried not to flinch. "Well then, I'm grateful you put such a thing to good use. It very well be more than what I have." It was hard to tell if he was kidding or not, though his eyes almost gleamed with . . .some sort of emotion.
How long had it been since he'd teased or felt amusement?
Far too long. . . . But that was neither here nor there. It didn't matter, he didn't matter, and life in general was often unfortunate. Today was no different, and if he had died. . . . oh well. Life would always move on.
Still, it surprised Chandar that he realized he didn't know who the pale and pink mare was. Yes, this was their second meeting, but she was still a complete and utter stranger! Odd . . . . Well, since they started over, and they weren't all snarls and irritation, it was just as well to be cordial. Not that the black and neon green stallion had any idea how to do such a thing. . . but he'd try! Civility wasn't his strong point. Hell, socializing in general was perhaps his weakest trait.
Apparently the spirits wanted him to learn somehow. . . . It took a skinwalker and near death to force him to be it. What kindness.
Beatrice . . . . Tris. . . . He wouldn't be foregetting the name OR the face so quickly. She didn't realize just how rare company was for the stallion. "I'm Chander. And it's . . .it's a pleasure. Or something." He added the latter not to insult her, but because he truly wasn't sure how one responded to such greetings. He'd heard mares and stallions before, but he'd never actually been in the recieving or giving end of such formalities.
It was foreign to the male. . . so foreign his ears pinned in uncertainty. Heaving a sigh, also painful, he fell quiet. Honestly he was lost at how to proceed or what next to do. Maybe he'd sleep soon. . . maybe. . . maybe the spirits would be kind and let him wake up fully healed so the awkwardness didn't have to linger. He really wasn't good at being civil. . .
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