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MOTHER PROMPT

Mare's Name: Emerie
Mare's Temper: Aloof
Prompt Response: “You wanted this, remember?” the new mother murmured to herself, a slimy knot of disgust in her stomach. Disgust at herself, at her repulsion of the creature that had infested her stomach for eleven months. Disgust at the thing she’d birthed, an alien.

Weren’t mothers supposed to love their children, even if they were born part demon? Even if they were missing a limb? Even if they could never, ever see you? Weren’t mothers the compassionate creatures who stood protectively over their baskets until hatched?

Was she not a mother?

Perhaps it was her fault. They’d tried, God knows they’d tried. And they failed. She couldn’t carry – the unborn child buried in the meadow last year, the one she’d sobbed over, was proof of that. Perhaps she’d prayed to one God too many…

She’d seen the unfathomable creature, lying wet in the crisp sunlight. And she’d seen the looks of horror and empathy on the Two-Legs’ faces as they lifted her child into the birch basket. The way they’d patted her muzzle, told her she’d done good, like she was some pureblood dog of theirs who’d thrown a litter of hairless mix breeds.

The afterbirth had had a prettier face…

Anger flared up to join the knot in her gut as she stared dejectedly down at the basket, white branches seeming to encase the little foal in an embrace that his mother couldn’t offer.

Then Emerie hid the basket away under a fern and left it.

She would learn to love it as she was his mother and that was what mothers did. It was just hard right now. She’d try again in a week. Besides, there would always be next time.

DEMON PROMPT

Demonn's Name: Eryn
Demon's Temper: tortured
Prompt Response:

It had been an accident, or so the stallion told had himself. That was his method of coping in the dim, his light that gleamed so wonderfully. It could not have been him.

It was a lie, but Eryn nurtured his own misconception, and in his mind, it was true. He watched the forest grow, darkening with his unsuited rage. It was not dying, merely standing still, like its guardian. Cloyed and seeped to the core with rage. He could not howl in despair on his own, but the gruesome sound of wind whistling through the decaying trees came close.

He had replayed the situation so many times in his head that it had changed. If he closed his eyes he still saw creamy hair, pale and pearlescent. The mare had been glorious. Laurë was a living embodiment of the sunshine and warmth he did not often get to appreciate in the forest.

It was her, golden and pale and petite that had tempted Eryn. He was forbidden from letting his potion be used for or with any ill will. It had been one of the conditions of the otherwise strings free gift. But, the protector was arrogant. Why should the rules apply to him?

He was the forest guardian, the keeper, the wise man for acres around. He should be exempt. They were not made for him; the angeni, when giving Eryn the bottle, had only warned him that without a pure heart, the wishes would be twisted.

And his heart was pure, was it not? Longingly, the stallion would gaze longingly upon Laurë. But, she was always with others, usually other mares that she chatted amiably with. Eryn could not work his little charm on a mare that had constant company around, and she always seemed so happy already, surrounded by her friends and kin that she brought the beautiful forest.

One day, though, she came with a stallion, blushing lightly as her mellifluous voice made light conversation, and Eryn felt the roots of darkness twining around his heart. It grew, uncontrolled like a weed, tangling in the growing brambles around his hooves as Laurë brought the same stallion back, day after day.

After a fortnight, he’d had enough. In a reckless move, Eryn drained half his bottle, and harshly wished that the mare would be his and his alone. His wish was granted, the scarlet fluid bleeding out of his eyes, his pores and slunk away, like a demon in the night.

For that was exactly what the wish had become, purity defiled. Eryn could not see it, or would not, as jealousy and spite had wound its way around his heart. Laurë had never talked to the stallion, though she’d seen him out of the corner of her eye. She watched him, day after day.

He followed the wish’s embodiment, scarlet like sin, unaware of the fact that Laurë had brought the stallion to his forest to hopefully coax the beautiful stranger out of the shadows.

Eryn would never know that his secret infatuation was returned. The redness wound around her pale neck, cutting into her flesh. With cold eyes, he watched her blood mingle with the essence of the wish, and watched it pool around his hooves.

The corruption was instantaneous. Feeling the backlash of the wish, Eryn could only watch. His forest was soiled now, tainted with his deed of reckless anger. His body turned against him, freezing him in his place, gnarled branches and moss climbing up his body.

Blood burbled from Laurë’s wounds, and the mare breathed her last. That was the truth, but Eryn had twisted his memories to be something very different.

His eyes opened, and he glanced to her bony remains. “Do not worry,” the stallion rasped to her skeleton, grinning. “The foal will not just be my own.” Eryn tossed his head, uncaring of his newfound appearance. It was irrelevant to his plan. He had had his days of beauty, and little did they reap him.

“The child will be ours. We merely must be…patient.” The foal would be the essence of purity tainted by darkness. The same in theory, though details were different.

The forest guardian was convinced that some other stallion had killed his Laurë, his precious, his love. It could not have been him, no. The memory of his story was long gone, replaced with half truths and the blurred line between reality and dream.

He had a pure heart, after all.


The sound of laughter echoed in the forest, and it was not a pleasant sound.

DEMON PROMPT

Demon's Name: Zahir
Demon's Temper: arrogant
Prompt Response: Stiff, that’s the first thing he felt in his new form, he was so stiff. Zahir stretched examining his new body with displeasure, it was so... so gnarled and rotten looking. He turned to glance back at the rest of him and scowled, ugly, he was ugly… He faintly remembered what he used to look like, his silky mane and his brilliant blue eyes, the mares that were also swooning over him, the other horses that didn’t recoil in fear and horror. If they saw him now… if they saw him now they would surely flee, but was that really a bad thing? He couldn’t remember due to a stray thought entering his mind.

“what about her?” he thought worriedly almost as if it was a whine. Her, he frowned shifting with an irritated look on his face, “this predicament was all her fault… all her fault… “ the thought trailed off suddenly becoming something more dangerous, more violent, more furious then it had been before. She had flirted, flickered, and danced before him, she had caused him so much anguish that at times it had nearly brought tears to his eyes as he had fought the pain, but no more… she was surely dead, that is if he remembered that last night correctly, that last sight of her, her body broken and bloody, injuries inflicted by his own hooves.

He took a careful step forward, unsure if his body would cooperate, much to his pleasure it did even if it was ugly. No doubt if she had seen him she would of looked at him horrified, that much he knew was true.

He had loved her, loved her as much as he knew how, and he thought she loved him too, but he was wrong, so incredibly wrong. The only reason she spoke to him that fateful night they met was for the potion that hung around his neck, she already had someone in mind and that definitely wasn’t him. He was used and then merely thrown away once she got what she wanted, and that was that arrogant stallion. He was foolish, not even realizing it until he realized she was pregnant. It was then that he had asked her what she had wished for when he let her have a sip of the potion and she answered, a happy smile on her face, “for him to love me.”

He remembered looking at her horrified before it finally sunk in, before he was overcome by a terrible wrath, a terrible lust for blood. “so your happy with him?” he had asked, voice shaking with anger. She had nodded and then it was over, everything was over, the world dyed a crimson red by his hatred and betrayal. He remembered watching her run to him, the filth who had stolen her from his graceful form, he remembered biting, his limbs flailing about wildly in all directions coming back covered in red. He had killed the stallion, its body looking limp and weak beneath his triumphant feet, and then he had turned to her. She, who in all her beauty, had made his world perfect, less lonely. She had betrayed him, she had crushed his hopes and dreams, crumbled the perfect little world he had imagined… now he would crumble hers. His eyes had narrowed into a glare and she had backed away sobbing hysterically about “please don’t hurt me and my baby” and how she was so “sorry” he had snorted, as if that could ever fix his broken heart. Then he had killed her, he had killed her and her unborn child and enjoyed it.

The memory faded and zahir wracked his mind for what had happened next, but strangely he came up with nothing, nothing until he was released from his curse by some foolish stallion, who he had granted a wish in exchange for his first born. It was the perfect revenge, though there was always the chance that the foal would fix his heart, but that was unlikely. It was, however, much more likely that by having the foal he could lead the life she had wanted, make her soul, wherever it had been sent, jealous and feel hatred towards him too. It seemed like the perfect plan and he knew that the foal would be drawn to him, no matter whether it was by being tired of being alienated or because of the bond of the stallions promise, it did not matter…


You always knew you were different. After all, how many other soquili grew branches and leaves? Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered so much if your parents didn't make it so obvious, whether in action or words.
Despite your simple life with your parents, you find yourself apt to wandering. There is, of course, nothing more tempting than a forbidden area. The large forest that borders the grazing land looks dangerous enough for an excursion alone. Your father had explicitly told you never to go there.
Next thing you know you're lost in the woods. You'd have great camoflauge if only you weren't such bright colors. It's pretty boring all in all, except that you've been hearing creaking that seems to be getting closer, and it's unlike anything you've ever heard. The longer you spend wandering the forest, the closer it gets. Soon, out of the corner of your eye, you could swear there is one tree that is... moving. Following. Smiling. Your father was right about this place!
How do you react to this threatening soquili? Do you stand your ground or run away? Will you threaten it, or beg for mercy?
You cannot godmod the forest demon in this prompt, so consider what the foal is thinking before it acts - and if it acts ON the demon, create a cliffhanger. BASKET PROMPT

Basket's Name: Celyn
Basket's Temper: apathetic
Gender for Prompt: male
Prompt Response: Paranoid, they were so paranoid, nothing to worry about at all, nothing to see but trees. It was rather uneventful, the trees all looked the same as well as everything else.

That’s what Celyn had thought at first when he’d had run into the forest fearless and bold, but now it was growing dark and there was that strange noise….

“creak.. creak…” he frowned glancing around his ears swiveling, there seemed to be something there through the trees a ways off and suddenly the foal was filled with fear. Fear, he relished it, his parents were far too overprotective of him and he had grown relatively emotionless but now he was filled with fear. He tried to savor the moment, the adrenaline rush as his legs tensed before his instincts to bolt finally overcame him and he dashed through the trees.

The bushes and trees zoomed by as he leaped past them, his branches shaking as he dashed. Branches? Oh yes Celyn had branches which was probably the reason he was so sheltered, his parents didn’t want him to feel bad for being different. Boy did they suck at that, especially his father, he never once saw love in his eyes just fear, and his mother always looked sad as she gazed upon him wondering what had gone wrong. It was they, they who made him disgusted with his appearance. No wonder he liked to run away so much….

He glanced back wondering if the “thing” was following, it didn’t seem to be, but he wasn’t altogether sure, heck for all he knew he was just saw another tree and had mistaken it for something more. He pondered for a moment turning an idea over in his mind, “like a tree…” he glanced at his leafy body with a grin. The idea was intriguing as well as pleasing, perhaps the next time he escaped from his parents he would go check it out again, now the problem was figuring out his way back.

He glanced around completely lost in this unknown forest.

“Celyn! Celyn!” he had the frantic call of his mother not far off and ran towards it rolling his eyes, of course she would act like she was worried now, though he was sure she would have been relieved if he had simply disappeared.

DEMON PROMPT

Demon's Name: Azazel
Crow's name: Raum
Demon's Temper: Vengeful
Prompt Response:
The stallion stood, grotesque body wreathed in the thick shadows of his forest. The gnarled branches of his brother trees reaching out, entwining their twig-fingers with his own. Hatred burned within him, belying the complete lack of movement that his demonic body possessed. The hunger for vengeance scorched along his veins with renewed fury The time would soon be upon him. The time to take action against those that had betrayed him, betrayed the one who had been his everything.

Ancient hatred filled the demon, and had done so since that time, long ago. It drove him, in a way nothing else could have, drove him to ignore the agony of his new existence, focused him on a single, all encompassing goal that staved off the madness that had threatened to steal his mind. The loss of his beauty had all but broken him and it was the burning rage that filled every rough and twisted limb, that kept the stallion in one piece.

Once, a long time ago, he had been a creature of purity and goodness. He had guarded the forest with his life, protecting the magic that existed within, the magic of life. He had been alone, yet he had not been envious of those he occasionally met, wandering in pairs or with their families, along the edge of his forest. No, he had instead, rejoiced for them. Given them his blessings and wished them long and happy lives together. He had never thought he would find his own love, his own precious jewel in the depths of the forest. But such a miracle had found him. She had been lovely, graceful and dainty, like the tiny bluebells that had flowered each year at the onset of winter. She had become his heart, her happiness had ment everything to him. Nothing was too difficult for him to overcome with his sapphire dream at his side.

But it had been ripped away from him! Stolen by the very soquili he had welcomed to his forest. It had been a demon, a kalona, that had entered his forest with lies and deceit in its heart. That stallion had pretended to be a friend, pretended to wish to learn about the wondrous forest. Three days… three days she had lain in the cave, slowly dying. Her beautiful blue hide ripped apart, eyes dull and sightless. The third day he had finally found her, frantic with worry after the endless hours of searching. Her life had been stolen from the world, her beautiful smile and joyful spirit.. ripped from him by the greed and jealousy of a single soquili.

He had tried to save her, his precious love. Stealing the forbidden gifts of the forest in his efforts. But nothing had worked and she had died in agony, blind and alone. Soul-sick and lost without his beloved mate, he had almost welcomed the curse the forest cast upon him for stealing its most treasured gifts. A coldness has overtaken his body, his limbs entangled with that of the demon tree, and yet his heart had still burned. Instead of the bliss of death he had hoped for, he was forced to remain aware, awake both day and night, watching the forest grow and age around him, with him. Every hour, every day, every year that passed only saw the hate within him burn hotter. The lust for vengeance simmered, distilling into a madness that was focused solely on revenge. Revenge against the entirety of the soquili lands. Long had the cause of his torment been forgotten, all that remained was the destructive hatred burning forever in his breast.

Now, at last, he was free! His body released from its prison to finally unleash his hatred on the world. The foal.. the first born he had required in payment for some petty wish, was the first step in his revenge, and the start of his own redemption. The fact that he would be breaking apart a family almost as soon as he had found his freedom only made his coming retribution all the sweeter. The foal, cursed to be the same as he, living under his wing and taught to hate with all its heart, would carry his hatred and loathing out into the world, destroying those just as he had once been destroyed. Soon the land would be ablaze with the fires of hate, the screams of the shattered souls as sweet music on the stage of his vengeance.

(His plot that I have in mind would bring him and the mother together. She looks painfully like his lost mate, and through her he would eventually regain his lost self, and live the rest of his life seeking redemption for his past actions.)


MOTHER PROMPT

Mare's Name: Laelia
Mare's Temper: Devoted
Prompt Response:
Sighing softly she stretched out her neck, elegant head resting upon the ground. Gentle blue eyes regarded the basket, cradled within the warmth of her body, with a mother’s love and parental protectiveness. Yet worry was alight within the usually friendly gaze.

Something was wrong with her child.

She had seen the way the basket had sealed itself as if forming a cocoon around her foal as soon as it was placed within. And she had seen that pale, gnarled body and strange eyes. There was none of her mate’s colouring on the basket. It was pale blue and white, though it was possible that his colours had been entirely skipped, it wasn’t too likely. And increasingly, she had found herself wondering if he was the father.

Of course she hadn’t been unfaithful! She loved her mate, despite his unusual behaviour recently. And yet…. something drew her to the forest, the forest that they had lived alongside for many seasons after she had left her family to be with Asb'el. Another sigh escaped her, laced with worry for her child and for her mate. Suddenly a cold chill travailed up her spine, making her lift her slender head sharply. Pale blue eyes swept the edge of the forest anxiously.

Why was it stalking her? It had begun the day she had discovered that she was expecting their long-awaited child. Some hours after her mate had returned, and oddly seemed a little reserved in his celebrations of their miracle, she had felt the very first ‘chill’. The sensation had vanished soon after and she had forgotten about it. But as the days passed, and her belly had swollen with new life, she had felt that same coldness ride over her. Often she would be alone, basking in the sunshine, or grazing on the tender new shoots. Each time her mate was away, wandering as had become his habit during their seasons of childlessness, she had felt that coldness, and on several occasions, had caught a strange movement on the edge of the forest.

Gradually, as the weeks had passed, she had become convinced that something.. no, someone was in there, and was following her. Yet she wasn’t scared, as such. It made her nervous, and anxious for her child, but the aura she felt from that shadow hadn’t been one that wanted her or her child’s death. As time passed, and after the basket had arrived, she had felt the cold shiver more and more, until it had been every day, and then several times a day. When ever her mate was absent, the shadow would be there, as if watching over her.

It was puzzling. And yet she had come to a most startling conclusion…. that shadow, had some kind of connection to her child. The forest itself, seemed to reach for her when ever she got close, as if wanting her to join it, to take her child that looked so much like one of those trees made living..

And each day the temptation to answer that call was becoming stronger.



BASKET PROMPT

Basket's Name: Ceres (Roman myth name of the goddess of agriculture, meaning "to grow.")
Basket's Temper: Cursed
Gender for Prompt: Female
Prompt Response:
Glancing round she eyed the open space behind her. In front was the forest, full of things that her parents called trees, but that looked so much like her. Behind, the wide open plain that her parents had made their home, and where she stuck out like a sore thumb.

She had seen her mother vanishing into this forest recently, when she thought her daughter was asleep, and her mate was away. She would be gone for an hour or so, then slip back and settle as if she had never moved. Ceres was curious, she wanted to now where her mother went, and why. What was in the forest that was so important? And why did she herself look so much like the army of silent sentinels?

It was these questions, and the distinct feeling of not belonging in the sunlit world of the open grasslands, that finally prodded the young filly forwards, into the shadows of the trees.

For a time she walked, at first following a faint trail but it petered out before she realised and soon enough she found herself lost. But more than being afraid of never finding her way back, she found herself amazed by the plants surrounding her. The trees seemed to reach out, caressing her gnarled hide with gentle fingers, their leaves brushing through her vine-entangled mane.

Here, she felt a sense of peace, of belonging… something she had never felt out in the sunlight. With the dappled shadows drifting over her body, her blue and white coat faded to a pale grey in the half-light, she felt… welcome.

Suddenly something creaked loudly behind her, causing her to flinch and spin round. The sight that greeted her wide eyes was something that should have been fearful, made her run for her life. The creature was indeed imposing, and her heart thudded with fear. But more than that, the sight of the gnarled and twisting branches, the rough barked body and leaf-strewn branches… here was one who was like her! Maybe he could answer her questions, explain to her the purpose of her existence, and reassure her that she was normal.. not some freak of nature.

Ears flat against her head, nostrils wide with panicked breath, she slowly stepped forward.

“… hello…”



FATHER PROMPT

Stallion's Name: Asb'el
Stallion's Temper: Undone
Prompt Response:
Courage.. that was your wish. The courage to protect your beautiful mate, the courage to love her enough to let her go. For if she was to have the children she so desperately longed for, then he had to let her go, let her find another who could provide her with the foals she needed, no, that she deserved to bring into this world.

So it had been courage that he had wished for, certain that he would have to let her leave him, no, that he would have to drive her away. Break her tender heart in order to give her back the life he stolen when she fell in love with him so many moons ago. He knew his own heart would shatter, lost forever to the blackest despair, but it was something he had to do. So when the demon had asked for his first born, he had agreed. For surely there was no chance of his mate conceiving after so long, and soon he would be alone… a broken spirit left to wander aimlessly until the end of his days. And if the gods had mercy, it wouldn’t be too long before a kalona or skinwalker discovered him.

The news that she had been so thrilled to tell him had felt like ice in his heart. He had betrayed her, betrayed the foal that should have been theirs. A fool he had been! To think that the fates would be so kind as to give him what he most desired. No.. they were vengeful spirits, punishing his mate for his own selfishness. If only he hadn’t made that promise.. if only he had possessed the courage needed to refuse the demon.

He was doomed, and he had just doomed his beloved mate and their only child. No wickeder beast walked upon this earth, of that he was certain.

((Editing later. gotta eat)


MOTHER PROMPT

Mare's Name: Evania (Means Tranquil)
Mare's Temper: Tranquil
Prompt Response: Evania smiled happily as she thought of her dear basket. She planned on walking around with her dear foal and mate as soon as it came out of the basket. Evania had not yet seen the basket due to being to tired. Evania walked to the little clearing in the village where he basket laid. Her eyes wide open with terror, the baskets markings looked nothing like her mate.. And there were branches all over it

DEMON PROMPT

Demon's Name: Mephistopheles
Demon's Temper: Irredeemable
Prompt Response: It took him a moment to remember how to use his legs after the stallion had fled, the wish whispering through him, rustling branches and mossy dreads as an answering current flushed out his nascent body. Sap lined his lungs, and termites scuttled blind in his now-defined belly; but thinking no longer took eons, running from branch to roots in vain. It was easier, even if he felt vaguely claustrophobic, awareness pressing in from all sides as he dwelled beneath the canopy rather than stretching above it.

Perhaps the curse had lingered to keep him from perishing instantly at the change, but he hardly cared to muse over such a double-edged blessing, not when he felt the way his face was pulled back by a mask of wood grain, the roots that still clutched onto him with and burrowed down into muddy flesh. He was a tree no longer, but he remained burdened with a grove of his own to carry, compensating for an ancient crime.

Years ago, decades or centuries for all he'd known in his imprisoned state, the forest had intended for a sapling mare to be his bride. The roots had shaped her out of clay, and nodding stems gave petals that coated her wet exterior. Dandelion seeds were planted to form eyelashes and hair, while the river sectioned off of its own accord to color her stare and burble a lively voice into existence. The final ingredient for animation had been stolen from him, blood from his many protective skirmishes spilled and leeched into the ground, all of it collected until it could be transferred to the final creation. There had been no warning before she'd appeared, bedecked in garlands of springtime, and her breath – as she announced herself his – had been sweet as any perfumed nectar. But companionship had never been something of interest to him, and the solitude of his duties coupled by the pilfering of his castoff drops of life enraged him.

Mephistopheles had spoken roughly to the beautiful creature, the diatribe bordering on cruel when she stared at him with wounded confusion. He did not want her, would never want her. If she had simply accepted it and moved on, it wouldn’t have mattered. But the tears struck a chord, and his disgust only increased when she’d requested a wish from the bottle around his neck, if she was to be so spurned by love.

She bowed her head to take the brew, her wish going unsaid save to the fine-spun glass and its contents. But his own feelings had influenced the potion held close to his heart, and the sip meant that she took into herself his own sense of violation and anger. Newly birthed and fragile, the emotions had spilled down her throat, turning the waters to steam, baking the clay to a hard consistency, and scorching the delicate flowers. She had crumpled at his feet, a victim of whim on both sides as she'd broken down to base materials.

The spirits had tried to remake her, but he denied even the single drop of blood by which she might have been revived, made stubborn by what he perceived as treachery. And so he had been condemned, rendered a bloodless, but still-living gravestone to the mare he'd murdered. The howling resentment had stayed with him, building up until he was free again. And the stallion, the boy with Kalona-whiff that he could smell from miles off, had been the reason.

The scheme had coalesced quickly when he spoke wistfully of his mate and their troubles, the garnet solution presented as salvation. They would never again have trouble conceiving; their family tree would span out as great as his branches before his deliverance had. Just the first of their children, the one he had implanted, was to be his, and that would be the only price. Agreement struck, he felt the first stirrings of contentment in his lignified gut. The foal would come to him already full of hate and despair for its appearance. It would think him as sympathetic as the idiot halfblood had, would turn to him for answers. He would destroy his child next to the invisible corpse of his intended, and the sacrifice would mean that the blood no longer coursing through him would be spilled once more, his refusal erased, sins cleansed.

The creaky stallion's head was heavy and his heart was light, one weighed by contemplation and gnarled wood, while the other floated above consequence.