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 Posted: Wed Feb 29, 2012 10:23 pm
A cool evening, near to night, and she imagined she could almost see the motion of the wind. To her mind it had a lovely swirling quality, bedecked by stars made of dew. It mattered not a lick that there was no fog, that the air was thusly invisible. She liked the mental image she had painted, and so she watched it swirl as she walked. Then she fluttered her wings, to alter the swirls. She hid a giggle as she "watched" the air move about and dance at her command. She flapped harder and couldn't contain the laugh when she found herself airborne. She stretched her hooves, kicked some mud off of them against the top of a tree, then flew along, watching the air below her, and as a consequence, the ground below her as well.
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Posted: Wed Feb 29, 2012 10:49 pm
 Night was almost upon them and the young foal’s eyes began to grow tired; it had been a long day helping his father guide the dying into the peaceful spirit realms. As his body gave into the exhaustion from the day’s labor, his mind kept returning to the herbal lesson he had learned day: Willow bark to ease their pain, poppy paste to ease the burns of flesh, and a sprig of chamomile to sooth a dying heart. Westrion was a tad jealous and in awe of how quick his brother was able to absorb the extensive herb knowledge needed to help those dying pass peacefully into Underworld. Slowly the young colt entered the realm of dreams; he had only just closed his caramel eyes when a sound drew him out of his slumber. It was a sound he knew well, for he heard it almost every day, it was the sound of a creature in pain.
His ears flicked as he tried to pin point the direction of the whimper, the injured creature could not be far from where the colt had decided to take a quick nap. On silent hooves, the Angeni colt made his way toward the direction of the creature, hoping that it was not too late to save the poor thing. But as he was concentrating on discovering the location of the cry, the young colt had stumbled into a patch of mud; he did not notice his predicament before he began to sink deeper and deeper into the brown goo.
Upon his back, his black wings strained, attempting to pull him out of nature’s death trap, but to no avail, for Westrion was undoubtedly stuck.
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Posted: Wed Feb 29, 2012 11:26 pm
Flying high above, Stephanie saw the change of scenery below her as trees thinned into what she expected to be a glade. When she saw the edges, the tell tale signs of a mud-suck pit, she frowned. Duel thoughts, opposite reactions, really, raced through her mind. The first was concern. Many a creature could fall into such a pit and be pulled under, the second was revulsion. While certain muds were good in careful application for enhancing one's beauty, a mud pit was not anywhere near the top of her list for places to be. Then she saw small black feathered wings fluttering. Great. Just great. So much for having just shined her wings. It was going to take FOREVER to get the mud out!
Even as she thought this, she was wheeling back to the treeline. It didn't take her long at all to find a loose branch and some sturdy branches. She was, unfortunately, getting too practiced at this maneuver. She affixed the vine around the tree, then kicked the branch until it wedged between two stones, jutting into the mud. With the free end of the vine in her teeth, she dive into the mud.
Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Oh gross, it was in her tail. She whined mentally as she dropped near the foal, but not so near as to splash him, which could make things worse. she pushed a hoof against the branch to propel her closer to the little one, then used her tongue to feed more of a lead off of the rope, tossing her head until the loose end was close enough to the foal for him to grab on. She really REALLY hoped he caught on, and, well, caught on. If not, she could rescue him another way, but if he could grab the vine and hold it in his teeth, this would be the safest and most efficient method.
C'mon kid, she thought. C'mon, get it. Just grab the rope. Do NOT make me get this muck in my eyelashes going down after you. C'mon, kid....
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Posted: Thu Apr 26, 2012 10:32 pm
There was no doubt about it, he was stuck and slowly sinking into the dark mud; he did not feel panic, only a clear sensation of thought, so this was what it felt like before one died, he should have known it was not filled with terror, but a peaceful acceptance. Yes he was too young to die, but if the fates had decreed that his life thread had been cut, then he could not fight his destiny.
The fluttering of wings drew the young colts attention away from the fates and death, with his caramel colored eyes he looked up to the sky to see the source of the noise. A mare with an interesting coloration upon her body, the markings appeared to be of an ancient castle, hovered above him with translucent butterfly wings that reminded the foal of a mythical fairy. His eyes widened as he noticed she held a piece of vine within her maw and before he could voice a sound of protest, the mare with the fairy wings dove into the mud.
Westrion watched with wide eyes as the mare sloshed through the mud toward him. If what she planned did not work, then both of them would be entering the Elysian Fields together. The young Angeni foal grabbed onto the vine with his teeth and sent a silent prayer to the Fates that the vine would hold their combined weight.
With his fearless caramel eyes, he looked at the mare expectantly, were they to pull themselves out only using the strength of their teeth or did she have another plan of escapee in mind.
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2012 2:03 pm
Once he was secure, she gave the slightest of nods, careful not to move so much as to jerk the rope from him. Then she used her tongue again to feed the rope, this time to try and pull them closer to the branch. She lowered her head, taking the risk of letting go of the rope, then, and coiled it up quickly in her horn, pulling him towards her. It HURT. Unfortunately it was a pain she was becoming all too accustomed too. She glanced back to make sure he was okay as her teeth caught the branch itself.
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2012 2:17 pm
He felt movement, ever so slight as the fairy winged mare pulled herself and him through the muck to a low hanging branch. Westrion kicked his legs in the mud, trying to help with the propulsion through the death trap; they were so close to the edge of the pit. Westrion gazed at the helpful mare in front of him, pain filled her eyes and Westrion felt his heart grow heavy; she was in pain because of him. He was still watching her when she looked back at him, he tried to give a mental apology for causing her to go through this mess, but the young warrior did not think the message went through for at that very instant her maw connected to the low hanging branch. They were almost free!
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2012 2:28 pm
Seeing that he was still holding on, she used feet and wings to help propel them, letting go of the branch to serge and grab it closer up. moving until she dragged herself to solid ground. Then she moved so the rope draped over her mouth, a plop of ick landed in her eyelashes. Groooooooss. She blinked it away as she caught the rope in her teeth again. Now horn and mouth both held the lifeline, and feet, though muddy, were grounding her. She slowly stepped back, a step and a step and a step, pulling the foal from the mud. Her sides heaved with the effort as she struggled, wings fluttering uselessly behind her, too coated in muck and grime to do anything of use.
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2012 3:05 pm
Time seemed to stand still, but he knew that it was moving at its constant speed; slowly he was pulled closer to the edge, the mud seeming to cause resistance. The helpful mare was already on dry land, her body caked in mud; the young foal could no longer see her intricate markings. Westrion felt his hooves strike against something solid; his eyes widened, after what seemed hours, he finally reached land. He stood with shaking legs, his breath coming in ragged puffs, “Thank you so much for saving me Ma’am.” He gave her a tired smile, “I really thought I was a goner.”
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Posted: Fri Apr 27, 2012 3:12 pm
She dropped the rope from her mouth and shook it off her horn, her head so tender now. She hid the whimper of pain that tried to escape. Princesses, Queens, and Heroes did not whimper in distress like helpless damsels. She nodded once, glad he was well, then glanced back at herself and groaned. The pain she could deal with but this... this was untenable. She frowned and shook her wings, trying to dislodge the muck to no avail. She frowned deeper and tried to stamp her hooves to clear her rump. Mud shifted, and some gloped down, but still she was disgusting. "I hate being filthy," she snarled at the clinging soil, as though she could intimidate it into falling off. No such luck.
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Posted: Wed May 30, 2012 6:44 pm
Solid land, he was finally standing upon solid land and mud fell off of him in clumps, landing with soft thuds onto the dry earth below. He gave the mare a lopsided smile, “sorry for making you filthy, there is a river near here, we can wash up the rest of the mud and I can give you something for the pain.” He had noticed that when she moved her head she gave a slight wince, even if she did not let it be known she was suffering. “Thank you again for saving my life, I am Westrion.” He smiled at the flutter, truly sincere about his feelings, even if he had resigned himself to the muddy fate of his death, we was grateful that the Fates allowed him to live another day.
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Posted: Wed May 30, 2012 9:01 pm
"Then let us find this river and get washed at once, lead on," She said, her chin up and aloof. Now that she was no longer focused on saving his life, she was trying to repair her shredded dignity. "I am not fit to introduce myself until I look presentable. I absolutely refuse to converse while we are covered in muck," she informed him, stamping one hoof; both for appearances and appearances. It made her feel as though she looked more dignified, and it helped her shed some mud, which made strides towards making her look cleaner, which to her, also meant dignified. She had to be at her best, and she was very near to her worst. Her head hurt, and he had mentioned something for the pain, but she couldn't even begin to care about her physical pain until she was presentable. She only wished she had a way to speed dry her hair without flying. Her wings made flying somewhat wobbly when they were fresh washed, and wobbling was not at all dignified. She would fly only once she could do so magnificently.
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Posted: Wed May 30, 2012 11:04 pm
Westrion nodded his head at the mare and started to walk in the direction of the river, paying close attention to the earth that appeared to have death traps hidden in them as well. He was silent, he did not mind being covered in mud; he had been covered in worse helping his father with the dying in the battle ridden fields. During those visits to help the dying pass over, Westrion learned from his father certain herbs that eased pain: Willow Bark and Poppy Seed were the two that came to mind first. As he and the mare made his way to the river, his caramel eyes were searching the ground, a smile appeared on his countenance when he spotted a tiny plant with two large leaves and two smaller stem like leaves, one containing a black bulb like object. With his maw he grabbed a clump of the plant and continued on his way, the flutter mare trailing behind.
A few moments passed since grabbing the poppy when the river came into view. Once the two of the soquili made it to the bank of the river, Westrion placed his findings on a rock, making sure to keep it away from the flow of water, and then jumped in to the water, removing the mud from his body.
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Posted: Thu May 31, 2012 6:28 am
Queen Stephanie managed to keep her head high, and to make it seem as though she cared not, and noticed not what anyone did. Of course, it had been actual effort to do so when he had bent to take a mouthful of something from the ground. Not only could she not even begin to imagine eating when she was so filthy, she also disliked grass on general principal. Some might call it odd, she called it proof of royal breeding. She ate leaves and fruit off bushes and trees. Things that have long since been washed clean by multiple storms of rain. Dirt and soil in her mouth? Not a chance. She managed not to whimper as a splat of mud fell onto her tongue from one of her teeth. She HATED being this dirty.
Once they got to the water, she saw him put down his mouthful and shook her head slightly before she caught herself. Did he make no sense because he was male, because he was a foal, or because he was common? As he jumped into the river without having the manners to offer her to go first, she decided the answer was all three. Well then.
Head high she stepped gracefully into the water upstream of him. She wasn't getting his filth on her, and if he got dirty as she washed, well, that would teach him a practical lesson for next time. One washes at a time, and it is always, always, ladies first. She washed carefully, taking her time, and doing her best to maintain her aloof dignity while still washing every last flake of mud off of her. When she had been little, her parents had helped, with clean soft rocks they called pumice. Royalty should have assistance, though it should not be parents. They should be taken care of now that she could care for her self. Could and should were different things, however, and she didn't think she should have to. Perhaps it was time to hire a servant. She eyed the frolicking foal for a moment then shook her head as she washed out her hair. Too male and too young. Common worked, as no nobility would serve other nobility, but one out of three was insufficient. At least now, however, she knew she was looking. And that was something, yes?
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Posted: Thu May 31, 2012 10:36 pm
Westrion sniffed the air, the strong sent of soap stone reached his nostrils; he waded over to the bank of the river and scrapped his hooves across the stone, a sudsy substance came to the surface. He looked up at the mare washing herself in the river upstream of him, he gave a slight wince when he remembered his manners, and he could hear his mother berating him now. The foal was clean of mud and walked toward the mare, “If you want something to scrub off the mud, there is soap stone lining the river.”
He shifted as he stood on the bank, the mare seemed to transform from being the helpful mare into an aloof uncaring mare; he was unsure how to handle her transformation. His caramel eyes returned to the clump of poppy laying on the rock, “Would you like me to help you with that pain?” Westrion wished help the mare who saved his life.
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Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 10:49 pm
She watched him through slightly narrowed eyes. He could not have mentioned the soap stone earlier and saved her some time and effort? Well that was gratitude, now wasn't it? But then he offered assistance, and that was more proper. She was royalty, female, and his elder. Offering his services was the right and proper order of things.
She took her time to consider her words. She would love some relief from the pain, but admitting that too freely, too quickly, why that would give him a measure of power over her. Also, it was unseemly to admit that she could not handle the pain. Especially when she could, though she would prefer not to. Then again, if she could seem slightly weak, without loosing her hauteur of grandeur, then she would be easily underestimated, which could always prove to be useful in the future. Well, useful, or annoying.
Finally she lowered herself socially to speak. "And how would you do that?" she did not call him young one, though her tone strongly implied the unspoken words. If he was to deal with adults of her stature, better he learn the lessons now, with her, a mare who wouldn't actually hurt him, then to cross paths with one who would.
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