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 Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 5:26 pm
Pearl white lips rippled the surface of the lake as the mare drank from the quiet waters. Red drops fell from her jaw and mingled with the clear, only to be soon swept away by the lake's ripples.
Though she had sated her hunger and her thirst, the uneasy feeling would not leave her. She knew, no matter how many days would pass, that as long as the four she loathed still roamed the land, she would be unhappy. And it burned her, burned her to her very core. How dare he take advantage of her, and then above that, raise the vermin that should have died long ago as they had left her womb. But she would show them... one day, one day she would grow stronger, stronger than he'd ever expect her to be. And they would pay.
But for now, she drank. Drank, and continued on living day by day, doing what she knew she had to do to grow stronger. She was not a fool like he thought her to be. After all, he had raised her, and trained her just as he was training her offspring.
Offspring. What a foul word. Just recalling that she had birthed made her feel older, made her cringe at the thought of losing the beauty and appeal she had.
She would show them all. She would use his own tricks against him and the others, and be happy once more when they were gone. It was only a matter of time.
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Posted: Fri Aug 24, 2007 9:49 am
 Brooding seemed to be the chosen pastime of the evening. Unaware of the prescence of the solitary mare, Antony stood in the shadows of the trees near the lake's edge. The stallion stood quietly, his pale body wrapped in his dark wings and his head inclined slightly against a tree trunk. It was a quiet, reflective, thoughtful moment...
Which in and of itself was rare for Antony. Raised by an affectionate and loving father, Tony had grown up fully embracing those elements of his own character. He held no beliefs about the 'superiority' of the kalona, or the so-called 'inferiority' of the other Soquili breeds. He befriended all types; wasn't his own father a wind, his best friend a regular? He'd managed to overcome the kalona side of his makeup, the kalona side of his upbringing, the kalona side of his personality.
Or at least, that was what he liked to think. Much as he cared for his mother (who, in her own way, had been and continued to be an involved parent), Antony couldn't help but think of the kalona as something well deserving their dangerous and loathed reputation. Senseless bloodshed, superiority complexes, irrationality beyond belief...THAT was what went along with being a kalona.
But that wasn't all, and no amount of personal altruism could convince him otherwise. Anyone who so muched as glanced at Antony could see that he carried kalona blood. His huge size, almost two hands more than his father; his fangs; and, most distinctly of all, the large spiked bat wings that identified him as a member of the kalona race. The physical. That which was first seen and tended to make the strongest impression on non-kalonas. How many times had he had to explain himself? How many times had he, as a child, run to his father in tears, wanting to know why the other foals were so mean or why their parents wouldn't let them play?
The physical could be overcome, though. He'd convinced himself that it didn't matter, as long as the spirit inside didn't reflect those 'values' the kalona prized. This determination had gained unexpected support in the guise of of of Guilian's closest friends, a kalona stallion by the name of Ariston. In spite of being a pure-blooded kalona, Ariston was pleasant, funny, helpful...a role model, in his own way. The fact that a kalona could BE friends with a wind spoke volumes. And more than that, Ariston had been a friend to Tony himself.
Standing in the shadows of the trees, Tony smiled slightly to himself, a smile utterly lacking in warmth. Yes, Ariston had been kind to Tony, and THAT was even more remarkable. He wasn't foolish; he knew the views most pure kalona had on half-breeds. Hadn't his own mother warned him and his siblings about the dangers they might face due to their mixed blood? Kalona might hate lessers, but more than that, they could hate with a mindless passion those that represented the ultimate fall of the kalona, consorting with a lesser. But Ariston didn't care.
Unfortunately, Ariston had his own problems, and, somehow, one of them had become Tony's as well.
Loveless. Just thinking about the dark mare, Ariston's only daughter, sent a slight shudder through Antony's body. Not fear, not pity, not loathing, but a sort of composite born of confusion, anxiety, and despair.
He'd known her as a filly, met her with Ariston and his father when she was younger. She'd been so energetic, so amusing, so friendly to both he AND his 'lesser' of a father. So much the child of her father. But now, that was all past.
Pressing his lips together so firmly that they formed a thin line, Antony reflected on his last run-in with Loveless, now a fully grown mare. He thought of her mocking smiles, her cavalier view of bloodshed, her dismissal of lessers. How she'd attempted to influence him through use of her body (something he might have actually appreciated, in different circumstances). Most importantly, she'd tried to turn back...
Not that he'd given her a chance. Taking advantage of a break in her focus, Antony had taken off before he did or said something he regretted; picking a fight with an honest to goodness kalona was not something that he wanted or was prepared to handle. He might have many of the correct parts, but not knowing how to fight with them handicapped him more than if he was merely a trained regular.
Now, he stood alone in the darkness of the trees, reflecting on the past and mulling over his own character. He wasn't like that. He didn't have it in him. He never had, never would; the part of him that engaged in violence was dead.
Or was it?
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Posted: Sun Aug 26, 2007 9:22 am
She raised her head back, her pink and purple curls gently shifting down her soft pale neck. There must be a way to do it, she thought to herself, her mind having been lately consumed with idea of ridding herself of her bloodline. Thinking back on the sole memory she had of the foals, her mind focused on each child, and their appearance. The two colts would no doubt have grown up to be as large as their mutant father, but the filly, perhaps, had only grown to the size of her unloving mother. Either way, Diabetia knew it would be a struggle to take any one of them down. Though she had been trained to fight, she had never actually taken on another of her kind before. There was never a need to, until Plague's return. And now with her three shadows roaming the Earth, she had that need more than ever now.
She snorted in disgust at the resurfacing realization that foals of her bloodline had stolen her looks and were walking around, doing as they pleased. If it had been in her control, it would still remain just her. Just her...and Plague.
Dark pink eyes glared at the quiet lake, the recollection of that dark filthy mutant all too clear. She had respected him at one time, honored him, and look where it had gotten her. She'd have been better off on her own as a foal, and run off when he had attempted to take her in. But it was too late, and he knew her not as a mare, but as a possession. His Sweetness.
Deep inside, she loathed him. But even deeper down lay mixed feelings towards the mutant who had taken her in, and despite his constant threats, in the end had always protected her, and taken care of her. Were these feelings of adoration, or feelings of obligation? She didn't know, and she didn't want to find out. The feelings scared her, so she shoved them back down into the back of her mind, unwilling to allow them to resurface. She owed him nothing, especially not gratitude.
Taking a deep breath, she inhaled her own sweet scent that drifted in the air, always taking a liking to her own sugary smell. However, as she breathed in, yet another, more unfamiliar smell, was caught. Was there another being nearby?
Her ivory head turned to glance about her environment. It would be typical for something to have snuck up on her, as she was deep in thought. It was a habit that she was having a difficult time to break, but now was not the time to start practicing. Now was the time to figure out what that faint scent was.
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Posted: Tue Aug 28, 2007 4:24 pm
Though he was hardly an unobservant fellow, there was a marked distinction between one trained to be on their guard and who wasn't. Even at the best of times, Tony wasn't necessarily the first to realize there was someone else around, not unless the other in question was a bright color, reeked, or very loud.
At the moment, that pre-existing handicap was complicated further by his complete retreat into his thoughts. He hated that they could consume him so, but seeing Loveless again had been too powerful a catalyst. One could suppress things for a very long time without any ill effects, but eventually those suppressed anxieties and concerns would bubble out, black and ugly.
Just thinking about it made Tony's expression darken, the ensuing scowl enough to seriously alarm even those that knew him. One dark lip curled slightly, exposing the pale, shining fangs beneath; not a hint of humor lurked in his ghostly eyes, only a cold snap of anger.
And he WAS angry. Angry thinking about the slurs against others, against those that he cared about and respected. Angry that a breed could let themselves get so full of themself that they took superior strength as a reason to tyrranize or do whatever the hell he wanted. Anger at...everything.
Without warning, Antony suddenly lashed out, kicking swiftly and strongly out with one leg. The unfortunate young tree that happened to be in the path of the reflexive action was snapped clean in half; however, Antony took no notice of it, neither starting at the resistance or jumping at the sharp sound of cracking wood.
Instead, he remained as he was, wrapped in his wings and leaning against the tree. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself time to just THINK...though this was reminding him why. Wrapping his wings a bit closer, Tony's scowl deepened. Why would anyone ever want to have to think when all it did was piss them off?
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Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2007 5:20 pm
Her ears perked up as she heard a loud snap in the distance. Her eyes darted towards the direction it had come from, and the thoughts of her unwanted family were shoved aside, her focus now on what was currently going on.
A ways off near the same lake, stood a large creature, both purple and a dull-off white color. By the size of him, she would guess that he was male, and by the look of his wings, a kalona. Now why in the world a kalona would be knocking down trees, Diabetia didn't know, but her curiosity, like usual, was getting the best of her. And, after all, didn't one of her own foals have a white coat, like hers? She couldn't distinctively remember what that horrid little filth looked like... but could this be him? The age seemed about right... this creature didn't look worn and older, but still young and fresh, about the same age as Plague's foals would be.
Well, if it was him, this could be her first chance. The Spirits had heard her wish to rid herself of her family, and were giving her the opportunity to do so now. Her eyes glanced about to ensure no one else was nearby. The last thing she would need would be Plague or one of his other pests to show up, and face her two-to-one. Her odds were already down, seeing that she was of smaller frame, but she knew she had the fight in her, the motivation to take care of him, even if she was smaller. Shaking her head, she steadied her legs and made her way alongside the lake, in the direction of the obviously angered male.
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 9:51 am
How he loathed elitism. How he loathed that feeling of despair that accompanied experiencing that elitism, and the gnawing fear as he contemplated the possible outlets of the kalona sense of superiority. He wouldn't put it past Loveless to act on her so-called 'hatred' of the lessers, the kalona drive to destroy; that meant that everyone he knew, everyone he cared about, was potentially in danger. His father, his friends, the mares he'd spent time with...everyone. His father, at least, had the speed to get away from a kalona, but how would a regular fare?
Not well, that much was clear; it sent a shudder right to Antony's bones just THINKING about the damage a kalona could do. Even an untrained kalona would be catastrophic against an untrained reg...and a trained one would literally be murder.
Not that he could talk. When he was younger, his mother had attempted to teach him how to hunt, just as she'd tried with his brother and sister. He had the teeth for bloodsport, but had lacked the drive and the will to kill, causing his mother to eventually give up on him. Neve had taken to the hunt, but that was all.
Barbaric as hunting and killing were, though, Antony had been spending more time than he liked wondering just what would have happened, had he followed through with those hunting lessons. Killing small animals, relatively 'simple' as it was on the surface, could have been the first step in an actual training program. Learning the ways to fight...
But no; that was exactly what he HADN'T wanted. The very idea of killing, of violence at all, had been repugnant to him, was STILL repugnant to him. The very thought that he was actually looking back at his failure to hunt and consequently learn to fight as a wasted opportunity filled him anew with self-loathing every time the thoughts occured to him...but at the same time, he couldn't get them out of his head.
Fighting as an offenseive element was vile, abominable, horrific, even. He'd be a soulless monster were he to follow that path, just like the rest of the practicing kalonas. However...
Self defense wasn't bad, was it? As a half-kalona, he was far more susceptible to the wrath of the pures than most; a kalona would have to look at his tail and lack of horns to identify him as a mixed-breed; one missing trait could be written off as a mutation or battle injury, but two? He might as well be neon pink and sparkly in the bargain.
Yes, he was in a dangerous position, and what's more were that his friends and family were also in the same boat. If he knew how to protect himself, to be on par with an actual kalona, then he could buy time in the event that the unthinkable happened and one of those that he cared about was attacked. He could buy time...
A fine plan, in its own way. Yet every time he considered it, a tiny kernel of worry would begin to sprout; always, it was the same thing.
Perhaps he might start out with altruistic motives, but how could he be sure that's how it would stay? One day, he was waiting to be attacked or see someone attack before he intervened, the next, he might consider a look an attack, and before he knew it, he'd be attacking others for no reason beyond the fact that they were kalonas.
Taking that a step further, what if he were to encounter a bullying or agressive unicorn, or wind, or regular? What would happen if he interfered, and the same cycle wound up happening? Or what if...what if he were to discover that he actually ENJOYED fighting?
That, at least, was easy to answer.
"I'd be a monster."
Though vocally Antony's voice was hardly above a whisper, in his own mind that statement was heard with a thousand times the volume. His greatest fear; far worse than death at the hooves of a kalona, becoming a monster at the instigation of his own was a fate he couldn't bear to even contemplate.
Yet somehow, someway, those traitorous thoughts kept returning. The desire to protect warred with the urge to suppress, fear for his friends and fear fof himself battling for supremacy.
It was while in this state of mind that he heard the footstep. While definitely not a stomp or the tread of some huge stallion, it was distinctly, definitely a footstep. Lifting his head up out of it's limp downwards state, he looked out through the trees...
And locked eyes on a kalona mare, moving (as it seemed to him) rather purposefully in his direction.
Oh hell...
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 11:31 am
Ah, so he had spotted her already.
Her hot pink tail swayed in the breeze, the wrappers on her sweets rustling as they bumped against one another in passing. Her eyes focused on his, refusing to glance away as she studied his face. He didn't look like any of the three foals she had birthed, but then again, time could change many things, including appearances. The only way she'd be able to tell would be by scent or speech. He didn't smell of Plague in the least; it was a foreign scent to her. His expression confused her however, as did the lack of horns on his head and haired tail. She herself had beautiful strands of pink hair for a tail in the place of one of those wretched serpent's tails, but even she had horns on her head.
That was it. He must be related to Plague somehow, if he failed to have horns on his head. What other fool would have mated with a kalona to produce such an offspring?
Her eyes narrowed. This stallion didn't seem to take after herself, though... had Plague knocked up another mare while she was in labor with his?! The thought alone made her growl, and any attempt at appearing pleasant and sweet like her normal approach had disappeared.
She would let him have the first words... there was nothing she could say that could express the anger flowing through her veins right now, despite the puzzled look on the stallion's face. Drawing closer, the mare stopped in her approach, standing only a few yards away from the beast as her glare refused to let up. So he wasn't her spawn... so what should she do about this?
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 12:17 pm
...Antony didn't like this situation, not in the slightest. At first it could have been a coincidence, or his own delusions, that made him think that she was approaching him; however, there was no mistaking her intention as she came to a halt directly in front of him. Nor, for that matter, was there any mistaking the ominous glare that was aimed right at him.
His first instinct was to flee. However, that was hardly a prudent course of action, given the circumstances; come what may, he might as well stand his ground. Maybe present a bit less of an easy target, if that was what this mare was thinking.
That in mind, he straightened up slightly, unwrapping his dark wings and returning them to their place on his back. That, coupled with his white body, made him look a bit larger than he actually was, especially in shadow, and any edge would help.
"Can I help you with something?" No point in starting off any more hostile than was necessary...
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 12:30 pm
"Help me?" she echoed, her glare quickly turning into a confused expression. What kind of odd nonsense was this? Dia had heard of quirky kalona before, but hadn't expected to actual meet one, especially one that reminded her of a certain mutant. She had heard of kalonas treating others with respect, eating grass, being friendly and whatnot and the whole idea bored her... she didn't care what path a kalona took, as long as that path didn't cross with her own.
Her own pink dusted wings spread wide in response to his, hoping to prove that she was not as easy as an opponent as her pink and white frills marked her to appear to be. She could hold her own, and her appearance had been the downfall of many a foolish creature, though never of a kalona.
"You can help me," she started, returning her glance towards the markings on his body, "By telling me who sired you."
There, that was short, and to the point. There was no reason she had to pick a fight with a stranger, especially if she had no qualms with him nor his bloodline. While others of her race tended to kill without reason or care, she preferred to pick her battles, especially if it involved a bigger, potentially stronger creature than herself.
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 1:28 pm
That wasn't exactly what Antony had been expecting to hear, but then, perhaps that wasn't what she'd been expecting to say. The look of confusion that had crossed her face hadn't escaped his notice, though he himself was perplexed by that. Upset or anger he could understand, but he failed to see where the confusion fell into place.
Though her query cast at least a little bit of light on that. ~She doesn't know for sure what I am...so she must be testing the waters~
That might mean it was an opportune time to lie. However, to lie would to say that he was ashamed, and that was something he could never feel with regards to who he was...who his father was.
Consequently, it only took a moment to decide on an action at the mare's question. Drawing himself up even straighter, he looked her quarely in the eye as he said, "Not that it matters to you or is in any way relevant...but a wind."
There, he'd said it.
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 5:37 pm
So he wasn't a son of that b*****d.
A huge relief washed over Dia, as she had secretly wondered what she would have done should this... mutant before her have turned out to be a spawn of Plague's. She hadn't know what she would have done, not that she knew what to do now, knowing he wasn't linked to her family tree.
"... and a kalona, obviously," she added to his sentence, once again eyeing his bat-like wings that looked so similar to her own. She was in no place to judge; though she had had no say in the mating, there were beings born of half mutant half kalona genes running about with her blood running through their veins. She pitied the wind, however, for the only way she could figure a wind helped birth a kalona race was if the kalona put her in the same situation Dia herself had been in with Plague. But it didn't matter, just as this creature standing before her didn't matter.
"So what's a... wind, like yourself, doing knocking down trees?" came the next casual question, figuring she might as well see what was causing all the ruckus that had torn her away from her thoughts.
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Posted: Mon Sep 03, 2007 6:01 pm
Antony had no idea what was going on. In his days, he'd met a kind kalona, a sinister kalona, and even a deranged kalona, but never before had he met this sort of kalona. The look on her face as she'd approached had been enough to make his blood run cold; he wasn't the type to assume that just because a mare was smaller than him she couldn't do him an injury. Loveless had been proof of that, after all...and she'd even known him previously!
If anything, this mare was behaving paradoxically. Logically, he was anticipating some sort of attack upon his confirmation that he was a mixed blood; but instead, that information was greeted with obvious relaxation, and even conversationalism!
What on earth was going on?
He didn't trust this kalona, not even close. For all he knew, she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security and THEN attack him. That was how his mother had liked to work, after all...
So he kept himself guarded in spite of the seeming relaxation of the mare's attitude, replying in a calm and straightforward fashion that nevertheless indicated his unease at the situation. "Yes....but you asked after my sire, not my dam." Not that it mattered much. "And I suppose I was knocking over trees because I felt like it; an involuntary muscle reflex, maybe, or a subconcious nerve twitch. Or maybe my hoof just didn't care for that tree."
Perhaps it was a bit risky, to be flippant with a kalona, but it was his way of dealing with unpleasant situations. And until he knew what was going on, he was going to do as much as he could to determine what this mare's angle was...and consequently keep himself alive.
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