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 Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2012 7:19 pm
 Water of Life stood perfectly still amongst the sand, the heat causing his image to waver eerily and the edges of his form to blur away into nothingness. Why anykin would want to stand amongst the unforgiving sand, burning away into the ether, was a mystery, but there Melange stood, so very still, his hoof prints long blown away. Far away were the walked in grooves of his brother, so carefully tread day after day and filled with the thoughts of tragedy and prophecies too terrible to share. Surrounding this buck as a nebulous cloud a knowledge too great and all encompassing to be shared, too terrible in it's purpose and depth to escape his body lest it burn everyone else away.
Perhaps, with his water-blue and mud-brown pelt, from a distance he could look like an oasis, but upon reaching him, none would be found, only silence and stillness, and madness, something of purpose and restraint, in his eyes. And when he blinks, the unnerving blue disappears for a second, then his eyes, burning so bright with things unspeakable return to catch you. Also, for as far as the eye can see and beyond, nothing moves but the sand that is caught in the wave-like dunes that are shaped by their dance.
No kin speaks. Even the wind is silent as it blows up the sand and shifts it into another pose.
No kin speaks, yet Water of Life hears.
He hears and he knows, far more than anykin should. He bears it well, with no trace of a grimace, but he is quiet and he listens and should anyone listen to him too long, they might by touched and though he bring knowledge, along with it comes the madness that burns behind his eyes and dares to snake its tendrils out and ensnare kin in its terrible will.
For this kin, blue-bright, mud-dark, bends the insanity and the voices to his will, but the will of what he hears is theirs and they seek other kin who might tremble in their wake.
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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2012 9:35 pm
 Trees. Water. A flash of color as a bird scurried away, squawking. Dewdrop's breath came in heavy, painful pants as she sprinted through the swamps, hooves splashing in murky water and snapping twigs and dried vines as she made her way around the trees. The beast chasing her, snarling, vicious, was enough to spook her into running as hard and as fast as she could. Her ivory eyes were stretched wide and her pelt streaked with sweat as she ran, full tilt, toward what she knew to be the edge of the swamps. She was nearing the borderlands, she knew it, and she had never been there before, but stopping and risking this monster catching up to her was out of the question.
She broke free of the last few trees before dirt turned to sand, and shadows turned to sun and heat, and stumbled slightly. She would have paused if she'd had time, in an attempt to get used to walking in the hot sands, but she was very short on time at the moment. She didn't know if the thing had followed her out into the open, but she couldn't hear it anymore. Then again, she wasn't going to turn around and find out.
She went on for quite some time before she tired out, tripping over her own hooves and falling into the hot, gritty sand. She winced, feeling the heat on her skin through her fur, and stumbled back to her feet. Her lungs burned as she heaved and gasped for breath, looking all around. Alone. So very alone. But no! There, in the distance: another splash of blue! Water? Perhaps! That was enough for her, and she headed that way, squinting against the bright, unforgiving sun. The heat leaped off the sand in waves, zigzagging into the sky and obscuring a lot of specific detail. She squinted even more, trying to make out what she was headed toward. Surely anything blue out here, other than herself, had to be water?
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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2012 11:16 pm
The wind blew again, strong this time, and the sand shifted in tandem, impossibly large dunes disappearing in one large sweep only to reappear far off in the distance. It is amongst this movement, so great and powerful, that Water of Life stood. So long and still his hooves were still. The sun beat down upon his pelt, trying in vain to pull the blue water of his pelt away from him only to leave the dry sand behind, but it couldn't. He was immoveable and his thirst not for water. Having lived his whole life in the harsh sands of the borderlands, he knew nothing else, the sun merely clutched at his sides and Water of Life wore it as easily as if it was a second skin.
All of a sudden, movement. It was subtle, beyond what the eye could see, but Water of Life knew that something was moving. It disturbed the sand and broke the wind and he heard the whispers of life threading back towards him. The very first movement he had made in a long time was spent turning his head towards the movement and his burning eyes stared off into the distance. In between the waving heat that turned the line between sand and sky into a nebulous haze, the source of the movement could not yet be seen, but Melange was patient. He was a buck of a million years and very few words.
The sun carried the news of the impending arrival of the source of movement to the buck and he watched. Strange voices seemed to filter around him, they screamed and cried and cooed and murmured, and he listened, so easily. They pressed against him and he stood impervious to the madness that they wished to impress on him. He listened an as he listened, he watched, watched that strange space in the distance.
It was a sudden stumbling mess. The crying sand heralded the arrival of a blue form that wavered uncertainly in the heat. It stopped and though far off, Melange knew it heaved.
It lived, though it must be precarious if it heaved so.
With the knowledge, the knowing, the voices and the sand and sun, chasing at his heals, touching with burning hands and cold fangs against his side, he moved with easy purpose and grace over the singing sand.
It shifted beneath his hooves and he followed it, yet he bent it to his will and it carried him closer and closer to the surging, pitching life that breathed in the dry air.
So used to seeing through the hazy, weaving heat, it was quite a distance when he saw the source as clearly as if he were standing next to her. A doe that reeked of fear. The sand told him of her crying thoughts and the wind carried to him the knowledge that she carried with her.
Step by step, he advanced until he was right in front of her. Then, he stopped.
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Posted: Sun Jun 24, 2012 8:14 pm
It was all she could do to keep moving, keep her feet moving, and resist the urge to just lay down and rest. If she did that, she would surely pass out and fry in this heat. The subtle voices in her head, the whispers of those long gone, were a bit louder now, as if there were more of them here in the desert than in the swamp. It made sense, really; many kin might have wandered out here, unprepared for the heat, and never made it back to the swamp. Dewdrop blinked her dry eyes and moved toward that blob of blue in the distance. Please, please be water!
Her throat burned, but she would tell that the oasis was getting closer, that she was almost there. Almost to that blissful pool, where she could quench her dry throat and rest. But it was not long before things began to come into focus, and this oasis was not what it seemed.
Horns. Hooves. A long, winding tail. This was another kimeti, a buck, colored similarly to herself. The voices in her head wailed in anguish, and she made a soft sound of defeat. Her pride gone, her body wanting only one thing, she stared at him in disbelief and folded her ears back. She laid down, unable to move anymore, and rested on her side.
His silence calmed her, as if there was no reason to worry, and she soon closed her eyes. The white markings on her pelt shone in the desert sun, and she glanced up at him pleadingly, but curiously. "Help.." she whispered, her throat hoarse and dry from running full tilt with her mouth open. Hopefully this mysterious, silent buck could help her.
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Posted: Sun Jun 24, 2012 11:50 pm
When the doe simply shuddered and collapsed, folding down into the hot sand, Water of Life merely watched on. If she were intent on giving up and dying here amongst the singing dunes, brushed dry by the hot air, and preserved by the parched sun, then she was free to do so. Her ears, pressed back, eyes closed, spoke of giving in, and the sand beneath her whispered of death and decay. They wind that suddenly swept harder around the two kimeti howled for flesh and the sun beat down in a steady chant for blood, sacrifice, and last breaths. Melange watched and he waited, listening as the voices she heard filtered into his ears on the wind. They must be those who had died before her, bleached white in the desert and laying hundreds of tail lengths deep with the monsters that hunted below the sand. She was more relaxed now, that much he knew. The sand pressed the information into his hooves and her fear was less strong.
It was only when her eyes opened again, pleading in her eyes and she asked for help with a small, hoarse voice that he moved, just a flick of his tail and blink of his eyes. It was another moment of stillness before he tilted his head, listening to the sand urging the doe up. If she wanted to live, she needed to get up now before the sand gave into the desires that often lay dormant underneath him, the desire to swallow up lives and take them unto their own. He lifted his chin up, too graceful and smooth to be a jerk of the head, but still an obvious request for her to stand up. His eyes slanted back towards home, towards water, towards food.
Through all this, he said nothing. The wind, the sun, and the sand said plenty in his place and the voices that she carried with her were cacophony enough that even if he were inclined to speak, he wouldn't. Although no words left his mouth, the tendrils of phrases and words were already spinning and twining through his mind, curling in tantalizing turns, ready to slip past the gates of his teeth and into the air to drift into the doe's ears and take hold in her heart.
Water of Life wondered if the doe would go mad in the desert. There were so many voices crowding for her attention and so many voices more that she simply could not hear yet, hidden in the heat. It did not bother the buck, did not even seem to register at times, but he always listened. For him, it was simply knowledge, knowledge that saturated him and begged to be passed on, lusting for the chance to crush a creature's mind into sand.
He wondered what would happen if he whispered madness in her ear. Would she buckle under the weight? Would she bleed spirit and life? Would she cry or would she scream in silent agony?
Get up, the sand sang.
Get up, the sun beat down.
Get up, the wind screamed.
Get up, the buck stared, straight into the doe's eyes. Get up.
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Posted: Mon Aug 27, 2012 8:29 pm
Dewdrop merely lay in the sand for a few moments, creamy eyes drifting closed as the sand warmed her already parched body. He swallowed thickly, mouth nearly as dry as the drifting particles of glass beneath her as she entertained the idea of just giving up. It would be peaceful to just lay here and give in, wouldn't it? She could just go to sleep, and then wake up to the MotherFather, forever a part of the swamp. It seemed like a nice enough idea.
However, something was pushing at her, nagging her in the back of her brain, to get up. Be strong. Overcome. The voices she usually heard were quiet as if they, too, were tired and weak, but there was some voiceless force egging her on. It was new, foreign, but also sort of comforting at the same time. She listened to it.
Slowly, almost as if her bones and joints were made of sand and she needed to move carefully, Dewdrop came to stand on her shaky legs. Ears folded back and tail tucked between her trembling limbs, the blue doe finally opened her eyes and stared the buck down. How dare he just stand there and watch her nearly succumb to the sands! A frown creased her delicate features and she briefly wondered if he was testing her, judging her character with this trail. Regardless of it he was or not, she found him strange. Giving a soft huff, she held her head high and straightened her legs in order to appear strong. She would not give in to this stupid heat, no sir.
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Posted: Thu Aug 08, 2013 2:38 pm
Water of Life watched with fascination as the doe relaxed into the sand and closed her eyes. The sand was laughing death into his ears and the wind caressed the doe's body, leading her towards the edge. They cried for her to stand, yet they would be just as happy for her to sink down and turn into glossy bones. Melange stood watch, he would stay till she succumbed or she decided to fit. It was not his place to touch her fate, though he would know it before she ever did. The sun, warming her parched body and the sand that reached up the cradle her, sang a slow burning song of life and death, two things to intertwined they must be one. The knowledge laughed cruelly at her thought that it would nice to die, the sand elaborated with silent whispers of bleached bones picked clean by madness.
Then the whispers changed though they still pressed against her, him, them. They sunk their knowledge-filthy fingers into her sides with her every breath and he watched to see if the doe would stand, would do what every little particle of sand shifting said she would. He never doubted the knowledge, it was as much a part of him as everything else, if others would simply listen, but it did not know the limit of the body, did not know the limits of minds. It pushed and it loved to watch a kin crumble, body and mind, crush lungs under the force of silent cries, a response to madness.
She stood, trembling. He stood, still.
He regarded her with eyes that showed nothing behind the mad-glow, the knowledge burn. He said not a word, not even as she adjusted herself to prove herself to him, to show him that she was strong.
It did not change the fact that he had heard her thinking that it would be nice enough to sleep and never wake up. The thought made something quiet and strange, neither amusement nor joy, neither hatred nor anger, stir in his chest. Perhaps it was merely recognition of the natural order of things, the relaxation of knowledge into knowledge.
She was thirsty and despite his name, he was not what she sought. She sought the cool water of the body, not the burning water of life, knowing. He could offer it to her, but then, she would burn away, not even bones remaining for the wind to howl through.
So he turned, careful neat steps, so steady and sure with the sand giving way beneath his hooves, and began to lead the way. He glanced over once with his cruel, burning eyes, but gave no indication for her to follow.
She would or she wouldn't.
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