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 Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2015 3:17 am
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The first sign of frost had descended upon the mountain, hailing the herd’s official start of winter. Their substantial numbers had all gathered together for the occasion, celebrating the first snow by merrily dancing, warming themselves by the oak fire with the remnants of red ribbons burning vividly in the fire. A subtle scent of holly drifted through the air, completing their traditional celebration of winter.
Everyone was gathered. Orchu laid near the burning fire, watchful and silent as always as he watched the many generations of his family gather around him. Auri and War circled each other in a merry dance, with Admiral and Lux weaving in and out beneath their hooves in a dangerous game. Damascus lounged near the fire pit, sprawled languidly across the ground, his eyes closed but a smile on his face. Nixsi hovered by her two grown children, nuzzling them each in turn despite their embarrassed protests. Even Moir and Isiyah lingered on the outskirts, their sides barely brushing as they watched the proceedings with pointed disinterest.
And all in the middle, galloping wildly in circles with abandon was his father. Imperio’s coat glistened vibrantly against the firelight, the coiled phoenix coming alive as he danced and wiggled and let out carefree whistles and whinnies as he celebrated. His father pranced about without a care, ignoring the amused giggles and the rolled eyes. His father was loud and carefree, singing tunelessly as he danced and hopped and enjoyed himself without thought or worry.
Invictus needed to get away. He had tried to stay as long as he could before the unbearably itching of awkwardness settled in. His father had hollered at him to join the dancing, and Invictus had cautiously inserted himself in the festivities, self-consciously trotting alongside the numerous bodies of mares and stallions. The discomfort that had only tickled the edges of his senses had returned then, swarming over him at once, making him feel like a fool with his clumsy gait. He felt that everyone was staring; noting is lack of coordination, his clumsy hooves, and his small stature. He pulled himself away in the end, a pang of guilt settling in his stomach at the sight of his father’s pout, but needing to be out of even that most meager of spotlights. He had lingered on the edges of the celebration, attempting to strike conversation with the other members of the herd, but each attempt started with a fumbled opening and ended with a uncomfortable silence.
Invictus slowly slunk away from the festivities, edging himself closer and closer to the outskirts of their mountaintop clearing. He didn’t think anyone would notice if he slipped out, for he had no friends among them though he counted them all as family. Only his father would truly notice his absence, but he was busy frolicking still, now bumping playfully against Orion as the entire heard starting stomping their feet in tune with Nixsi and War’s upbeat caroling. With one last glance over the joyous group, Invictus slipped away, weaving his way slowly down the darkened path and into the valley below.
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Posted: Mon Dec 07, 2015 7:34 pm
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Pele' had always been a little . . . odd. Her adoptive family wasn't sure if it was her nature, something that might have come from her birth family, or a result of her time in her basket as it had been swept on a wild ride by a flooded and raging river. But she had seemed to be singing and dancing from nearly the moment her basket was rescued and hadn't stopped much since.
It was worse now. When her adoptive parents parted ways, creating two herds of their previously whole family, she didn't adjust well. Now she had lost them both. For a time she had stayed with her adoptive Father's herd, traveling with them, though the need to escape into song and movement grew stronger. But somehow Pele' had lost her father's herd too. She had no idea where they were.
So she moved to the sounds of the world around her, throwing herself into dance from when she woke, until she fell over to sleep, only remembering to stop and eat when her valiantly loyal friend Spike insisted upon it.
She'd been moving without real purpose for some time, just following the sounds of nature. Usually she danced to the rhythm of dripping rain or the shushing of wind through trees. Today there was another rhythm. It was too distant and intervening trees and rocks and such muffled it, but there was a definite beat. And it called to her. Not to find it, but to dance.
She heard that beat and moved to it, though Pele' listened also to the sound of the small brook burbling nearby, the croaking of frogs, the gentle tapping of branches against eachother as the tops of the trees felt a breeze that didn't reach the ground where she danced. She let each of these be part of the music she danced to.
And around them she wove her wordless voice. It was a rich voice, mostly alto, but sometimes reaching up into soprano ranges. Her hooves made a counterpoint to the beat, not as regular as the rhythm that reached her from the heights. Her wings tilted and stretched, reaching, cupping, letting her gain heights her athletic leaping couldn't accomplish on it's own. Her body, honed by her obsession, was flexible and graceful. She twisted almost on top of herself as her voice soared on a long scale up towards the few clouds floating through the sky.
Pele' heard nothing but the music. Her whole being concentrating on moving to the sound of joy she heard. She let her dance express that joy, floating for a moment like a snowflake drifting from the sky, then spinning as if caught by the winds. But for all the beauty and grace, something was still missing, it was like the expression of her body spoke for a joyous world, but didn't quite touch her heart.
She had often had to flee danger she hadn't noticed until it interrupted her dance. Spike usually watched over her, ready to warn her of danger, but as the nights got longer and the weather colder, he was finding it difficult to stay awake as long as she did. So Pele' danced alone, lost to the world and her song.
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 2:20 am
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The pathway down the mountain was dark and eerily silent, the upbeat melody from the herd having long faded out in the distance. Invictus slowly felt his way down the narrow, steep path, his hooves cautiously feeling his way forward. The snow had compacted down from the herd’s weekly travels up and down the mountain and the frigid air had turned the power soft snow into hard, slippery ice. Normally the moonlight reflected the snow, illuminating the path even at night to make the trek easier, but it was the night of the new moon and the dark hung in the air almost ominously, the multitude of pine trees further shadowing the already treacherous path.
Invictus continued downward regardless, slowly and in no apparent rush. There was nothing waiting for him at the bottom just as there had been little waiting for him at the top. He hoped his father wouldn’t be too disappointed in his early departure—Invictus knew that their annual winter celebration was one of his father’s favorite days of the year, one of the few where every put in extra effort to be present for. Invictus, on the other hand, had suffered through them every year since he was a foal, each year becoming more and more uncomfortable as he failed to make new—or any—friends.
Invictus ducked his head at the thought, letting his inky black mane cover his glowing embers of eyes in shame. He resolutely forced himself away from that train of thought, focusing instead the rest of his attention on the ground and his own feet as he took another slow step downward. As he reached the near end of the slope, where the mountain slope met the flat, even valley, the steep grade shallowed until Invictus could walk without fear of slipping. He emerged from behind the copse of trees that lined the mountain’s base, intending on walking along the banks of frozen stream that ran through the valley. During the spring and summer, the stream was a quiet refuge for him, where he enjoyed spending his days watching the running water and the occasional fish that swam past. In the winter time, when it was mostly solid, it provided no such distraction but habit drew him toward his normal hangout.
He froze as he stepped into the clearing, noticing another figure already occupying the area. The snow was softer down in the valley, not compacted into hard ice as it was along the trail, but still glimmered eerily in the night. The figure, their coat an amalgam of red and black that stuck out in contrast to the white snow, bobbing their way through the valley, their wings falpping to and fro erratically. Invictus gave a quiet whinny, flustered. He had not expected anyone to be here—they were the only herd that lived on the mountain and most others preferred to live further south, where the winters were less harsh. He shuffled his feet nervously as he looked to his right and left, contemplating returning up the trail and back to the teepee.
He sighed, backing up a little to be sheltered against the shadows of the forest, as he eyed the moving figure. They appeared to be walking straight through the valley, not yet noticing their extra company. Maybe, Invictus thought as he took a slow step forward and ducking his head in an attempt to make himself smaller, they won’t notice if I just walk past. Maybe.
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 10:03 am
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Pele indeed hadn't noticed anything but her dancing. Even the small whinny was just background noise that blended with the night and the music she made. She continues to sing wordlessly, melody for her body to shape itself around. And dance.
She leaps, twists, lands on one hoof and cups her wings to hold for a moment before moving rapidly into a sideways lunge, wings back. A few shuffled steps and then a turn, bow, wings flaring, as her voice continues to drift in meaningless song. But somehow the movement, the melody, builds a picture. A message of wonder and joy. But something doesn't ring true. Despite the well trained artist evident in every line and note, it feels wooden, not touching her. As though there is a sadness wrapped in the bright feathers and dark fur.
It isn't until Pele' nearly stumbles in her dance at the stranger's nearness to where her next steps would have taken her that she notices him. The music ends and she stills, like a deer startled by a predator. Her sides heaving with her steaming breath, she trembles slightly, watching him. |
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2016 11:05 pm
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Invictus had tried to avoid the other, he really had. He had walked as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself and had kept his head down, letting his black mane cover his eyes as he stared resolutely at the ground. He hadn’t been paying attention though, his gaze so steadfastly focused on the ground, on the idea of passing by unnoticed, that when the other—mare, he notices now that he’s closer—almost bumps into him, he jerks to the side on instinct to avoid the collision.
“Oh um,” he says, scrambling for words as he finally looks up, his neck bending downwards in an failed attempt to make himself smaller. He wishes he could crawl into himself, turn himself into a bug and hide hide hide away instead of being here. I am a fool, he thought. He should have been paying more attention, should have walked along the edge of the forest, should have abandoned the idea of taking a walk by his stream. Now he has bothered (annoyed, intruded his mind unhelpfully supplies) someone who was probably in the middle of something important and now all the attention was on him.
“Um,” he repeated, awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “I’m really really sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just, um.” He stalled, losing his words in his panic of meeting a stranger and ducking his head even lower in shame. “Um. Yeah. Sorry.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2016 12:43 am
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“I, um,” Imperio said, stuttering as though he could deepen his mortification. “I saw you, but I didn’t want to disturb you or anything. I should have been paying more attention.”
He stopped speaking to peak up between his bangs to look at this odd mare.
She had sounded so… His thought trailed off as he took a moment to watch her. Her eyes, the color of the brilliant sun, stared off into the distance at something he couldn’t see and he had to stop himself to reflexively look in the same direction.
She said she had been dancing, but she didn’t look like his father did after he danced. Imperio always shone after he danced, glistening in sweat and chest heaving in exhaustion but a huge grin on his face. After Invictus dances, he just feels awkward and self-conscious. This mare, though, glimmering in a sheen of sweat that almost glowed in the meager light that the snow reflected, looked neither happy or awkward or self-conscious.
He paused for the barest moment, scraping his hooves against the ground, as he made up his mind. It wasn’t really his business and he feared--always feared--being a bother, but he couldn’t just leave her looking like this. As much as he wanted to hide, he couldn’t just leave her when she looked so sad.
“Your dancing,” he started clumsily. “It was—it was nice. I’m not good at dancing, but, um. You’re dancing looked nice.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2016 12:57 am
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She blinked, her eyes focusing on him. A few breaths pass before she speaks. "It was . . . not right. I could hear it. But I couldn't . . . couldn't reach it."
Then, as if she realizes she's staring at his glowing eyes, Pele blinks, her gaze going less intense. "Dancing is not good or good. It is . . . breathing. The world breaths. You breath. Breath with the world, it tells you the dance."
She takes another step back, dropping her gaze, suddenly looking lost and forlorn. "I'm not breathing with the world. I hear it. Just . . . just there . . ." She tilts her head, ears swiveled towards the revelry on the mountain.
"It's gone, broken. The place that listened, the place that hummed." Then she focuses on him again. "I am wrong here. Not even an echo. Your breath belongs to this night. Listen . . . do you hear it? You dance the silence, the dark."
Abruptly she turns, but stops while in profile. "You belong. I will go." |
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Posted: Thu Jan 21, 2016 4:45 pm
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Invictus wasn’t good at…at this. He wasn’t good at offering comfort, offering assurances. He just wasn’t good at talking in general, let alone talking about something that might actually be important. But what he really really can’t handle is when someone is sad.
It was not something he ever had to deal with. Normally, he was the sad one and it was his father, mother, and sister, running circles around him trying to get him to smile. Dealing with someone who looked so heartbroken about something was so beyond his comfort zone that it made him want to bury himself into a hole and never come out.
But he couldn’t.
Because this mare just looked so…lost. (And maybe he sees a little of himself in her, this feeling of not settling into the world, of seeing everything move past and him standing still and alone in the middle of it all.)
So as she turned to leave, he takes a step forward for the first time and says, “Don’t go.” He pauses for only a moment before he forges forward, not letting himself think too much of what he is saying. “Stay. Here. I-I can’t hear it. I can’t hear this and maybe I don’t understand it, but maybe you can stay and help me?”
LydaLynn So sorry this took forever, but I really struggled with Invictus' character here. ._.
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Posted: Thu Jan 21, 2016 7:28 pm
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She stills, her breath catching, at his words. Then she takes two gulping breaths, struggling to process, to understand. Then she slowly turns back, just enough to look at him from under her forelock.
"You want to hear?" Too often people had dismissed her words, left her dancing on her own, not hearing the music she moved to. Not since her father, and that touched an empty ache, had anyone asked her to help them listen.
"I . . . I don't know. I . . . will you leave? If I help, will you take the music and leave? Will I be alone again?" And her voice is the voice of someone lost, alone, hurting. Very slowly she shakes her head.
"You will dance your dance. I will dance mine. Alone, my dance is always alone. But tonight . . . listen. You step outside the silence. Will you dance with me? For this little time? Will you help me remember the music if I help you hear it? I . . ."
Her breath huffs out in a cloud on the night. Taking a half step back, "Who are you?" She tosses her head enough to clear the hair from her eyes so she can truly see him. And she listens, listens for his music, his truth.
Teh Cheryl No worries, I completely understand, take the time you need. Pele is . . . not easy to interact with either, so that doesn't help matters.
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Posted: Sat Feb 20, 2016 12:39 pm
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“I-“ Invictus stumbled, trying desperately not to think too much about his words. His words were always caught in his throat, never quite able to express himself the way he wanted to and so he stumbled through life, awkward and unable to really tell anyone way. He tries again. “I, I won’t leave. I won’t leave unless you want me to leave.”
He stumbles again and has to look away from her eyes that seemed to burn through him. He stared resolutely at the ground and licked his lips nervously as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his place. “Because, I, I know a little of what it feels like. Not to be alone, not that because I have my father, but I know what it feels like to be lonely. To feel like nothing is quite right and you stand apart from the world and you wonder over and over and over if this world is right for you and that nowhere is.” He spits out this last part hurriedly, disquieted by how much truth he hears in his own tremor of a voice. Because this was something he had only ever said to himself, said in his own head to the audience of himself and now that he speaks them he wishes he could take them back because as long as it is never said it is not real (fakeliesuntruthwhywhywhy).
“So no,” he says, his head ducked and his voice softer than it was, “I won’t leave you alone.”
He pauses again, this time long as he contemplates her question. Who am I? Because this was important, this was asking more than his name. This was asking about who he was, down into his spirit and soul. But…
“Invictus,” he says, finally looking up and meeting her eyes through his black bangs. Because, in the end, his name was part of who he was. “Unconquered. Of sorts,” he says with the barest wry, depreciating smile. Maybe this strange, strange mare would understand what that meant to him.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
LydaLynn -pulls hair out because I love Invictus but why are you so hard to write-
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Posted: Sat Feb 20, 2016 8:50 pm
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Pele takes a hesitant step forward, then two. Then she's moving swift and silent until her nose is so close to his their breaths mingle. If she notices that it startles him, she doesn't seem to register it, but works to catch his eyes again.
Her gaze locked to his. "I see you, Invictus. Unconquered." Her voice was strong for that moment, then, it softens, lowers to just above a whisper. "I am Pele. The earth's daughter, the leaping flame, the dancer of light in darkness . . ."
Then she steps back, her eyes leaving his, looking to the ground as she shakes her head slightly. "I was."
Taking a deep breath, she holds it for a long moment before she lets it out. Her voice even softer, soft enough he has to strain to hear, even as close as she is, "Unconquered, triumphant, exultant . . . " Another step back as she shakes her head. Her voice raises a bit, "I see you, Invictus. Deferential, hurting, wanting. Listen, it whispers. So soft, so quiet, it calls." Her eyes reach up to his as she looks up without raising her head.
"You have a place. It's there, calling, waiting. I see it. I see you, Unconquered potential."
She takes another step back, her voice the barest whisper, "I see you. And I am yet unseen."
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Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2016 11:35 pm
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Invictus can’t keep himself from jumping, startling for just a moment as the mare entered into his personal space. Their breaths intermingled and if he leaned forward even the slightest, their noses would brush. It was strangely intimate, and Invictus tamped down the urge to take a step back and he met her eyes, albeit shakily. He could feel her eyes, bright and burning yellow as the sun, look into him and he knew that he lacked the conviction. Despite his words spoken only moments before, he knew that he struggled to live up to what he could and should and would be. Born from flame and power, his parents had named him to be free from earth and air and man. He had known it all his life, the idea that he could be more that sat in the back of his mind, back of his soul, but instead of embracing it, he recoiled. Let the thought curl up into the furthest corner to wither away, slowly slowly. It pulsed now though, alight and smoldering for the barest moment, as he listened to Pele’, her voice soft and eery, echoing into the still, cold air.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, with only the hint of a stammer. “You…you see me. You see who I am, are, was, and can be.” He paused and licked his lips, struggling for the words, wavering yet still. He took a breath and then closed his eyes, willing himself to let the words come, to not feel the edge of nervousness and self-consciousness that dogged him every moment of every day. It was easier with his eyes closed, where he could pretend that it was just him, him and his thoughts that came so easily in his own mind and stumbled, drunk and ugly, whenever he opened his mouth.
“And I-I can-feel you, feel it in the air, feel it in your eyes and breath and voice. The fire and the flame and the light. The whisper of the earth, the melody of the drums. ” He voice steadied as he talked, as he lost himself in words words words, the rhythm of his voice echoing in time with the beat of his heart that drummed loudly in his ears. “I can feel it.”
He stopped, his eyes still closed as he listened to the steady thumping of his heart.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
“I can feel it.”
He took a breath.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
And opened his eyes.
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Posted: Mon Feb 29, 2016 12:10 am
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When his eyes open, she speaks in a strangely hushed command, loud and soft and compelling. "Now MOVE."
And she steps forward, her neck along side his so she can hear his heartbeat, feel his muscles. And she pushes, just slightly, just enough for him to feel the movement. And then she pulls back, almost no distance, just giving him a little space to follow her. A back hoof taps upon the frozen ground in the rhythm of a beating heart as she again pushes slightly forward, each push with the heavy beat and each shift away with the lighter percussion.
Voice still in that eerie hushed tone, that carries but doesn't raise above a heavy whisper. "This rhythm, it's inside you. It pulses, thrums, lives. It wants to be free, to soar in the world. You can feel it. You can feel the edge of who you are when you close your eyes and forget about the words. Move with the beat."
She doesn't look at him, just keeps moving, pushing and pulling back, inviting him to sway with her, forward and back, to the beating of his pulse, her own heart settling into the same rhythm. Her muscles both taunt and loose, her whole life spent perfecting the art of dance, she even breaths with grace. But it was his melody she was listening for. She needs him to dance, so she can feel the music through him. Because he is connected, even as she is adrift.
"Feel, Invictus. Feel and move. There is no wrong. There is no right. There is night and darkness, snow and moonlight. And there is you, your breath, your heart, and your soul. Feel the movement, the touch, the moment. And Dance!"
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