[PRP]A Tree, a God, and a Knight{Callan MacTaíl & Háidēs}

[Thalea]

A single ancient grey tree stood on a hill with long finger like branches that dangled down toward the earth, skinnier twigs hung off the thicker branches like a curtain blocking out the world. High in the upper branches of the tree, small spider web like limbs tangled themselves with an assortment of different sized grey warped branches. Twenty feet down at the base of the tree, the roots were gnarled above and below the earth. The tree was lacking life, no living creature called the barren piece of bark home; the tree was desolate in the sea of green that surrounded it. The early morning light cast a soft eerie glow upon the tree, accenting its gnarled branches. All was silent around the tree except for the barely audible swishing sound of a long cape dragging across the earth. The sapphire cape was attached to a muscular bronze Angeni with raven black wings; a soft breeze blew through his mane, causing his bangs to cover his dark chocolate colored eyes. He quickly blew them out of his face in an uncaring manner, they always seemed to get in his way, but the bangs did not bother him anymore, he had more pressing problems.

Háidēs cast his gaze upon the tree and made his way up to the ancient being; to the god, the tree represented his life: long, desolate, and lonesome, but he would not get into the details at the moment. He stood next to the tree, his eyes locked on the flowerless plain below; the wind picked up speed, causing his cape to ripple and billow behind him. The Angeni was alone, just how he liked it; he was away from the constant yammering of the other Soquili and away from anything that was breathing, since the closeness to those creatures usually made a burning pain spread through his chest. For once, the Angeni was peaceful and the pain in his chest was alleviated.

He let out a sigh, it was a rare occurrence when he was at ease with his surroundings, for it usually happened when he was talking about the properties of stones or the beauty of the flower of the Underworld, but the tree seemed to have the same affect on him. With the thought of stones, Háidēs looked down at the obsidian clasp around his neck that held his cape; the god liked this particular stone because of its magical properties of banishing negative energies, which seemed to be always evident in his life.

Enough time had passed; it was time for the god to continue on his way. As Háidēs started to move away from the tree, he felt a tug on his cape, looking behind him he noticed that his cape was wrapped up in the gnarled roots of the tree.

There was no use denying it; he was stuck.  

[Regal Renegade]

Red hair swept by the wind resembled fire upon a cream colored stallion’s neck. His steps were slow yet deliberate as he ventured away from his home and into the open world. Behind him, the voices of his family began to fade with each step forward he took. It had seemed like an eternity since he was able to journey out by himself to just listen to the world around him and reflect on his life. He was in no way complaining, for he had something infinitely better than scenery and silence, he had love. An emotion he had at one time thought he would never experience again, not after the loss of Anela. Two emerald orbs glanced skyward at the thought of the mare’s name and a small, unusual, smile crept over Callan’s maw. He knew she would be happy for him, something within his chest confirmed this resolution. At one point in time he had regretted falling in love with Bella for he feared in doing so he would be abandoning his first love. He spent many a nights struggling over which path to take when finally he could no longer ignore his attraction to the fiery yet caring mare. Lowering his gaze so his eyes were fixed upon the indefinite path before him he settled his mouth into a content smile and walked on. His hooves were barely audible upon the soft terrain beneath him and his breathing silent.

The day was grim and gray as clouds overhead swallowed up the blue of the sky and cast a muggy light over the world. There was a chill to the air that caused the armor on Callan’s chest to sting his skin with each touch. Even so, this stallion had endured much worse than this and trekked on, ignoring whatever discomfort ailed him. He soon left behind the tall green grass of his home and found short whiskers of dead grass beneath his hooves. The land around him was barren looking as though fire had taken its toll. Trees with trunks white and dried like bone surrounded him, reaching out at him with gnarled claws. With each step a cloud of dried earth would rise up, remnants of the long lost beauty suspected to have coated this patch of death. Though this place would normally send shivers up one’s spine and cause their eyes to roll up into their head and their muscles to scream for retreat Callan walked on. Once, long ago he had fought on a field much like the one he journeyed upon now. The sound of metal beating upon metal, screams of anguish and the scent of blood tugged at his senses. It was as though the world of the present had begun to melt away and the past reared its ugly head. Like the warrior he was Callan kept moving forward, never giving an inch, keeping in mind this reality was not the one in which he lived any longer. The pain of an arrow biting into his hind leg, the feeling as the weight upon his back went limp and fell to the side; the shrill shrieks from the other horses around him were all combated by a sweet face etched upon his heart. His mate had chased many nightmares from his mind just with a glance and the sounds of his children’s laughter blocked out the noise of war. He was most emphatically a different stallion, no, a better stallion because of them.

The din of cloth thrashing in the wind caused Callan’s ears to swivel about and his head to jerk in the direction. It reminded him of the way the flags the humans used to carry with them sounded as they marched off to battle. The smile of content turned to his usual hard expression, the countenance of a seasoned warrior, and he began trotting toward the sound. Before long a dark figure was silhouetted atop a hill, a cloth seemingly caught to the branch of an unusual looking tree. Many of the trees about him were a glaring white while this tree were gray and had the look of struggle upon its bark. Its very skin told a tale of misery and pain one could only imagine. As he grew nearer the shape became ever clearer and he soon stood looking upon an Angeni. A deep blue cape adorning the winged beast had become entangled within some of the branches, holding the stallion fast. This was by no means Callan’s first encounter with an Angeni; his daughter currently had become fascinated with one causing an involuntary revulsion to the breed. It wasn’t anything they had done, merely a father’s sentiment toward the stallion his daughter now swooned over. Clearing his throat so as to alert the stranger to his presence he took a few steps forward and examined the situation with a closer eye.

“This certainly is a first.” He murmured nonchalantly.  

[Thalea]

‘Damn this to Tartarus! How could I have been so oblivious and cause myself to get into this situation? The only plus of my current predicament is that the other gods are nowhere to be seen to display mockery upon me,’ the black winged god looked down with his dark chocolate eyes at the sapphire velvet cape that was deeply tangled in the roots of the ancient grey tree; he gave out a sigh, he had been here for over an hour and all his struggling had only made him closer to the tree. High in the sky clouds rolled in blocking out the sun, casting dark shadows upon the earth and the tree where the god stood. The dark clouds were signaling the rain storm that was to come; it was just what Háidēs needed, to be soaked to the bone and stuck on a tree during a lightning storm. The fates where most likely laughing at his fate this very moment, enjoying the situation that they have weaved, ‘irritating old hags always sticking their noses into business that is none of their concern’. An image of the three beautiful fates with their long manes came to mind; of course they would scorn him, they were beautiful and he was a god who all mares and goddesses despised.

The god began to struggle some more to attempt to untangle himself from the grey ancient tree with the long willowy branches that constantly dragged across the gods back as if it were petting him. He could just feel the intent of the tree washing over him, its constant wish that he would not struggle against its hold and continue to stay in its dead embrace. Háidēs let out a sigh, it was just no use, the more he tried to get out of his current predicament, the more attached to the tree he became. The only way he would be able to extract himself from the tree’s grasp would be to have help from another Soquili of some sort, but the God knew that he would never ask for help, since that would mean he would owe that Soquili a favor. And a favor must always be repaid. It was not that he could not fulfill the favor, Háidēs just did not want to; as soon as he got out of the tree he would disappear back home, leaving the Soquili who helped him alone on the hill top. To Háidēs it was better this way, because it did not involve conversation with another living breathing thing. An action that he despised ever so much, an action that made him cringe just thinking about it.

“Oh for the love of Elysia!” Háidēs gave up his battle with an irritated puff and curse; his chocolate brown eyes gazed over the dead scene in front of him, fire had raged through the land, destroying all the green that once thrived in the plane below. It had been many years since the fire, but the green of life could not find the energy to continue its growth on the bleak terrain. Eyes closed, the god attempted a meditative state to shorten the time that he would have to suffer at the trees roots; time went by, hours or minutes, the god did not know. The sound of metal hitting metal made the god open his eyes, his body on full alert for the incoming being. Háidēs soon found himself gazing coldly at a stallion clad in armor who was walking up the hill, closer to the god who was still stuck in the tree.

He was a strange stallion, protected by a metal shiny armor and a pale coat that was closer to a white than tan; his eyes were a shocking green that reminded the god of the fields down in the Underworld. The stallion’s words had the god bristling, a scowl filled is countenance, “Are you here to mock my predicament like so many others will or would have done in your stead? Go away. You and your mockery are not needed here; go and lay your eyes upon another tormented soul.”
It had crossed his mind to ask this Soquili for help, but that would be admitting defeat to the tree and would be a blow to his ego. How could he call himself a stallion if he could not even get out of a blasted tree? Háidēs was getting impatient, he had been attached to this tree for more than three hours and he found himself wishing for a change of scene; the god wanted the stallion gone so he could continue his feeble attempts to rid himself of the tree problem.

“You are still here? What could possibly be fascinating to that you continue to tarry here?” Háidēs let out a loud rude snort; he was not used to conversing with breathing creatures, but he would not let the green eyed stallion with armor and black Celtic knot tattoos know that tiny little fact.  

[Regal Renegade]

Upon hearing the stallion’s plea to be left alone a war began to thrash within the knights brain. Part of him desired to merely shrug his shoulders and walk away while the other part rang with Bella’s tender voice and loving heart. Had this situation occurred before Callan had met his mate he most likely would have turned away without a spark of emotion or concern but now he had become something different. He had dealt with brats before within his own children and found himself trained and ready to deal with whatever this so called ‘grown’ stallion could dish out. Removing his eyes from the twisted cape he looked into the glare of the angeni before him, a sullen expression painting is face. Callan figured much of this tough talk was merely for show, he had been the same. Never wishing to ask for help for the hurting of his pride, he still didn’t wish to ask for help and therefore could relate to this particular show of force.

“Ah yes, the mockery. Well, in all honesty if my intentions had been to mock you I would have already done so. This particular predicament, while humorous, holds no interest to me besides lending a helpful hand regardless of what it is you say or don’t say.” He responded in a calm steady tone. Certainly he had been in worse, more embarrassing situations in his long life and desired not to make fun of anyone for fear of being a hypocrite. Without much frustration or emotion he peered once again at the fabric the tree had locked in its wooden grasp. The fabric was certainly snagged, that was evident, and Callan began to attempt to think of ways to release it. He could bite at it but he was sure it would leave permanent damage behind which would most likely do more harm than good. Attempting to break the roots away from the cloth wouldn’t work either. My was this stallion caught in a pickle!?

With a huff of deep thought Callan began circling the tree, ignoring the victim and more so assessing the situation. As an internal thought he began to realize exactly how Fearthainn became the way she was. A soft and quiet chuckle emanated from his diaphragm as he thought of his eldest daughter and her thirst for knowledge, it was a shame her wondrous mind couldn’t be here now. As the Irish stallion became lost in thought he paid little attention to the branches hanging low that were now grabbing at the chains around his neck and on the backs of his legs. This tree seemed to have a spell it cast upon unsuspecting bystanders, rendering them unaware of its sinister yet clever plot to ensnare them. When he felt a resistance put on his walk he snapped out of his thoughts and, with an exasperated sigh, gazed at his now entwined body. ‘Great, now I am stuck on this tree with a happy little ray of sunshine. Could this get any worse?’ As per the rule as soon as he thought those last five words a rain drop could be felt upon his nose. ‘Wonderful.’

Now his predicament had worsened, somehow he had gotten himself caught rear to rear with the Angeni. The only good thing about the situation was the fact the other could not see what had occurred with his supposed rescuer. Bella had been a huge impact on his life, changing him for the better, but he still was far too proud to admit that he too had become a part of the vegetation. Without much thought or strategy behind the actions Callan began pulling away from the tree in hopes the old dried out branches would break against his weight and the added weight of his armor. After a moment of quiet thrashing he found himself making it even worse.

“Well….” He stated.

Not the most intelligent of things to say at the moment but the only thing to be said none the less. To admit he too was stuck would be a devastating blow to his pride and perhaps, his intelligence but to keep it silent would perhaps be more of an insult to his brain power. Cranking his head about as far as the branches would let him he looked from the corner of his emerald eyes at the darker shaded stallion behind him. A pit began to gnaw within his gut but before speaking out a loud crash of thunder grabbed at his attention. The rain had begun to fall harder and the sky above became more and more ominous with each passing moment. With a snort he looked to the ground, his crimson bangs dropping over his eyes as he closed them and attempted to figure out a way to salvage his pride. The only solution would be to wait for the other stallion to admit his struggle first. How long could that take though? It was then a thought hit him like a sack of bricks. If he would not admit his turmoil and if the other stallion would also keep his a secret then they would both be attached to this tree for who knows how long.

“This is going to be a long night.” He muttered beneath his breath.
 

[Thalea]

Self-importance, arrogance, and smugness were only three of the many synonyms for the word pride. In that moment in time the words would not help the God with the long sapphire cape that was clearly tangled in the gnarled roots of the old grey tree. Since the prideful and egotistical Lord of the Underworld would never ask for help, from anyone, especially another breathing creature (who happened to be standing quite near him at this point). And that was absolutely clear as the sky opened to let down the torrent of rain.

The cold rain soon soaked through his thick hair that covered his caramel colored body; the paler Soquili stood on the other side of the tree, he had mumbled something about being a long night. To Háidēs’ regret, he full heartily agreed with the knight, “It will be,” Háidēs paused for a second, taking in the stillness of the other stallion; something was off. Soon it donned on the God that the other stallion was stuck to the ancient tree as well. Háidēs could not help but laugh at the irony of it all.

It was undoubtedly clear what had happened. As the knight assessed the situation that the God was in, he too had somehow managed to get his armor tangled into the twisted roots of the ancient grey oak. Now, the only Soquili who was capable of removing the mangled cape from the tree’s roots was securely stuck as well.

“The Fates are surely laughing at us,” Háidēs voice was dry and lacked any emotion but annoyance. The Fates or Moirae, as they are also known, always stuck their noses were they did not belong. When this situation was over, the three mares Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos would definitely be hearing from him. For some reason or other, the three mares are the only ones who do not spurn him for who he is, but they do love playing tricks on him. It was the threes form of entrainment and it never seemed to grow old to them.

In the far distance a flash of lightning lit up the sky with its blues and purples. The current situation of the two prideful stallions just seemed to get a tad more dangerous; being stuck to a tree during a lightning storm was the quickest way to become a crispy critter, especially since Háidēs’ companion was clad in metal. Electricity and metal are not a good mix. It was basic common knowledge; just like not standing under a tree during a lightning storm. But both of those common facts would not help the two stallions now.

Sucking in some of his pride and attempting to be somewhat polite, the God asked a simple question of the knight, “What are you called? I am Háidēs” the god left out the last part of his name; he really did not want to get recognized at this current time. Háidēs tried to crane his neck to see the stallion that was stuck to the tree behind him; the tree was not that big, but its long finger like branches created a curtain that was hard to see around. Finally the dark maned stallion was able to see the red maned stallion clad in armor. One of the chains from the leg armor had snagged on one of the sky bound roots; it would be easy to get off, if someone helped unhook the chain.

“Why were you out here when the sky clearly reveled that it was going to rain? Many other Soquili would have found shelter at the sign of those ominous clouds. So why did you not?”

Háidēs knew that the question might as well be asked of him as well, and if it was would he tell the stallion the truth and tell him that he had been here for hours, attached to the dead old tree that seemed to have a mind of its own. Perhaps it did. There are many tales about how nymphs would rather turn themselves into trees than sleep with some stallion who was chasing after them. This ancient white withered tree might be Pitys, who was one of the ancient nymphs that had ran when Pan given chase and turned herself into a tree. It was definitely probable, since Pan was one of the worse when it came to trying to win over the nymphly mares, with his looks appearing to be goat like (he add the appearance of a satyr). Háidēs pondered where all the hours had gone as he stood near the tree overlooking the valley below. The god remembered that he was staring off into space; he was contemplating on the past and the pain that the others had inflected upon him. Then when he felt it time to move on, he could not. And he did not mean it mentally and emotionally, but physically; the tree had grabbed hold of him and would not let him go.

It was truly aggravating. It was humiliating that one such as his self got stuck in a tree. It was irksome that the only stallion who could help him was also stuck to said tree. It was pathetic that he was too prideful to ask for help when he clearly needed it.  

[Regal Renegade]

Callan’s pale ears swept back as he heard a chuckle coming from behind him. Narrowing his eyes he stared of into the distance, a bruised ego shining through most apparently. He was being laughed at, he had come in here all hot to trot and ready to play the hero and now he had become entangled as well. His temper began building a slow burning fire within the pit of his stomach. Knights were not supposed to be the source of laughter, nor were they supposed to be trapped helplessly but an overgrown bush. For a moment he lost himself and began struggling against the reaching branches. He would not remain here! He could not allow for a tree to make a mockery out of him, especially not with an Angeni standing right behind him. Little did he know that as he began to put up a fight the branches became more and more wrapped about him. When finally he stopped he looked down to notice that he now wore a necklace of thin twigs. “Cac.” The Irish swearword slipped from under his breath. How could this happen?

The voice of his fellow prisoner caught his attention and he found himself wholeheartedly agreeing. The fates, the gods someone up there had decided this would be entertaining. Looking up into the brooding sky he sighed. He could only imagine the laughter going on up there, perhaps Merlin himself was cackling happily. Snorting the stallion lowered his head not wanting to look into the eyes of those who so cruelly used him and the stallion with him. “I’ll give them something to laugh at.” He hissed bitterly. Oh how they would pay for this! He didn’t know how he would make something that wasn’t tangible regret what they had done, but he would find a way.

A fork of lightening and the booming voice of thunder caused Callan to flinch ever so slightly. Surely the other stallion had the same thoughts that were now crossing his own mind. Metal plus lightening and water equals something very bad. Never had he regretted the armor on his body but never before had he been a lightening rod either. Even in this perilous situation the fiery stallion found himself chuckling.
‘“Let the wind blow high and the wind blow low
Through the streets in my kilt I go
All the lassies cry, "Hello!
Donald, where's your trousers?"’

Callan had once heard a man walking down the street singing this song. It was evident that he had overdone it on the ale but for this situation it seemed rather relevant. He was by no means a great singer but his Irish accent made the words sound plucky and humorous. Here they were, without their pants so to speak. Both embarrassed both too proud to say anything. Bella would certainly laugh at him now if she could see him. She would tell him he was being an idiot and that he should just turn ‘round and ask for help.

Though Callan would never admit it he enjoyed striking up a conversation. At least perhaps it would pass the time until one of them gave in or someone else came along to save them. Just that thought caused his stomach to churn. “I am called Callan by many but Cal by my friends. I suppose in this predicament being too formal would be rather a burden wouldn’t you say?” The stallion’s name was not one he had ever heard before. Even in his head it was slightly hard for him to pronounce. Just when he was about to say more the water from the heavens began to intensify. Before he knew it his tangle of red hair was lying flat and sticking to his neck and he had begun dripping. A growl escaped his throat, what a day. Could have been worse, at least he wasn’t stuck to the tree with a whiney mare.

The question caught Callan partially off guard. Before he had left the thicket in which he and his family resided he had caught the scent of precipitation in the air but that had not stopped him. He had become accustomed to water when he was fighting in the war. They rarely had shelter to hide beneath so they just stood out in the water, dripping and smelling wet. “I like the rain.” He answered honestly. “My mate says it signifies new beginnings and purification.” Images of fire and death entered his mind at those words. “It helps me to clear my thoughts.” He added absentmindedly. Craning his neck he attempted to see the head of whom he spoke to. “What about yourself? I wouldn’t think with those wings you would enjoy getting soggy.”

Out of something horrible, something positive is always bound to happen.  

[Thalea]

An electrical current shot through the air, causing a shiver to run down the spine of the bronze colored stallion. In the valley beneath the cliff, a bolt of lightning mixed with shades of purples and blue struck the desolate land below, the resounding BOOM shook the nymphly tree, causing a few of her branches to scratch deeper into his back. The bold was too close, any closer he and his companion would have been experiencing some sever pain. Dark chocolate eyes gazed up at the grey cloud ridden sky, clouds would light up as sparks of lightning shot through them. Zeus, was he the cause of this? Háidēs would not put it past his brother to set up a situation such as this, he was just as bad as the fates when it came to meddling in lives of those they had no right. In his mind eye, the god of the underworld could picture his golden brother with the purest white wings that when compared to a swans, the swan’s feathers appeared a yellow color, in his imagination, the god was laughing at him for his current predicament; Háidēs gritted his teeth, he would never hear the end of this tale.

A strange sound brought his attention back to the armored stallion, was that a word he was supposed to recognize as a part of the conversation? It sounded almost as if the other stallion chocked on something, o would that not be his luck, having the stallion behind him die before they got free, Háidēs did not wish to see the stallion in the Underworld, his only haven from this world. He turned as much as he could to get a better look at the armored stallion; he did not appear to be dying, only extremely irritated. From his vantage point, it seemed like the nymph had gotten a better hold on the warrior, then to a sudden surprise to all, the stallion began to sing. Háidēs’ chocolate brown eyes widened in shock at the ludicrous song, Elysia help him, he was stuck to a tree with a crazy Irishman. The fates were surely having their fill of laughter of his quandary, “I do not believe it is appropriate time to sing a song of such audacity, unless you have a song that will remove us from this situation, no singing please.” Háidēs knew that his words came out harsh, the stallion behind him only got stuck to the tree because of him in the first place, he gave a sigh, having come to the realization that he did not want to make the already terrible condition worse, “Singing just reminds me of the bitter happenings in the past, it has been ruined for me because of the mockery I associate with music.” Háidēs was a wounded stallion, he had known this fact for a while now, but it was not until this moment did he realize how damaged he was.

Háidēs let out a snort, “You could say that, Cal, being formal may only make this… comedy worse, ” The name sounded strange to the stallion’s ears, but he shrugged it off, they were stuck to a tree, what could be stranger than admitting that out loud? As the stallion listened to Callan talk about the reason behind he was out in the torrent, he found himself thinking on his reason why he himself was out in the downfall, “I like the rain as well, for it gives me a chance to be alone, not many others brave the rain, so it is peaceful. And I don’t mind getting my wings wet, it is more the cape I worry about, for once wet, it feels like a dead weight I am dragging around.”

He contemplated more about what the warrior had staid, “Perhaps this is a time for purification and new beginnings.” Háidēs sure hoped he was right, for the constant need to avoid people was starting to ware him thin and creating the monster that the others had called him his entire life.