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 Posted: Thu Aug 16, 2012 5:54 pm
 Water of Life walked slowly across the sand. Before his hoof was even completely lifted, the wind was already there, blowing the hoofprint away. Each step brought the voices of the sand coursing up to his ears and as the sun beat down on him, it sang, terrible songs full of knowledge and truth that threatened to crush any that heard it. The wind that covered his tracks, made his beginning and end unknowable lusted for destruction, for the cowering, withering fear that crushed living souls. Knowing, living, feeling, they all waited for death, the rancid taste of rotting flesh and the sun longed to burn the flesh up, the wind screamed for the chance to toss the bones dry, and the sand sat hungry, waiting to swallow the dead whole. All of this sunk into the water-bright, mud-dark buck as he walked along the sand, each grain carrying him forward and back in an endless moving cycle.
Even so, each step brought the buck closer and closer to the edge of the boderlands, closer and closer to the swamp with every dangerous shift of sand. He continued like this, one controlled, gliding step after the next until he can just make out the trees of the swamp, a thin uneven line at the horizon that kept the sky from meeting sand. At that point, Water of Life stopped settled with steady hooves on the sand. The borderlands were silent except for the wind howling in his ears, whispering insanity and promising knowledge.
He hears everything, the knowing, it pressed against his pelt, sunk into his ears and deep into his bones.
Such a terrible will that sought to trap all it met, yet this solitary buck simply stood there and listened. He listened to the knowing, the voices, and they imparted in him a vast knowledge and it burned, burned in his blue-mad eyes, the only respite from his gaze coming from his slow, even blinks.
Thus is Water of Life, a buck filled to the brim, yet ever expansive, a buck that bent insanity to his will. To him, it was simply living.
Yet he would simply stand by should it snatch a kin right before his eye and leave a trembling shell in its wake.
The wind is screaming.
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2012 8:40 pm
 Finding Water stepped through the swamp, her hooves leaving the marks of her passage. She was in no hurry to step out of it, but her mongoose took the lead on this trip. So far they were heading towards the edge. The ground was getting drier, causing Finding to look down. She rarely stepped out to the driest parts of the swamp and took in the sights. The ground seemed to shift under the mongoose's paws, where he shifted waiting for the doe to step out. The mostly dark doe moved slowly out from under the tree, her eyes on the buck she spotted. The wind ruffled along her tail, as something ran between her hooves. Star Finder nudged Finding along onto the sand. 
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Posted: Wed Sep 19, 2012 12:18 am
Water of Life watched as a doe, black as water-darkened earth, rich with life, and bright as the sun that always hung over head, moved slowly from out under the sparse trees that edged the border between swamp and sand, the few shade givers that could stand to have their roots touch sand. He had known about her before he had seen her, the wind laughing soft, careful words of cruelty and knowledge into his ears on her approach. She had shivered through the swamp mud and through the sand, up to his hooves and woven into his bones long and now, there she was standing on the sand, his domain, his birth and his death, the careful tread of his family. There she was, urged forward by a small creature, a mongoose, who looked her opposite and Water of Life watched. Strange that a swamp-liver would choose to venture so far out of the damp, richness of the swamp and onto the sandy, dry boderlands. It was strange that she would continue farther, towards him.
And so, Water of Life simply stood there, content to stand with unnatural stillness amongst the shifting sands and watch her with knowing-mad eyes and knowledge pressing their greedy hands along his sides. He would watch and wonder, perhaps they would claim her, perhaps not. If it did, he would not wait to see her go from pure black to stark white.
Thus was the way of the boderlands, of screaming and dying, whispers that preyed on the weaknesses exposed by sand and sun.
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Posted: Thu Oct 11, 2012 4:00 pm
It was strange seeing the buck, so vibrant with colors, standing alone in the sand. She took a step closer, wondering if this was something others had talked about. Seeing things because you are away from the swamp. Shaking her head, Finding had just stepped out of the swamp lands, barely a body length away. The buck was real.
His colors intrigued her, a shifting of water found along a muddy bank. Curious, she kept her steady pace, the mongoose forgotten for now, walking towards the buck. Her eyes shifted around to find a source of where he came from, no tracks in front or behind him.
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 4:42 pm
The doe was coming closer, her mongoose pattering patterns of knowledge in the sand, the two of them oblivious to all that was around them, all that could consume them at any moment, most kin were. They didn't hear the screaming and so they thought there was none. Strange thing though, this doe, daring to come out onto the hot sands and feel the desert sun, blinding and bright, unimpeded by the trees that shaded the swamp. The desert sucked the life out of creatures, too little water, too much heat, and all around them dry sand.
Water of Life, had he been a kinder buck, would have asked her if she truly wanted to come out this far, would have even offered to walk her back to the edge of the swamp, but Melange was no such buck. He stood, pelt a sharp contrast to the sand, but everything blue of the sky, thing, lithe, well muscled and gaunt in a way that suggested life from death from the life style he led, and he watched, giving no warning, letting no words slip from his mouth.
As the doe came closer and closer, Water of Life became stiller and stiller, his hooves settling into the sand and he listened, but he never spoke. And when the doe was close enough, close enough for what, he turned and began to walk away. It could not be said that he was leading her, but perhaps he was offering her a path, not to water, or anywhere more hospital, but merely to more sand, more heat, into the land of death where bucks and does that could stand the desert day after day, found solace in the exploration of their dreams, of fate, and in accepting terror.
No, he did not lead her, but she could choose to follow.
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Posted: Tue Oct 30, 2012 9:05 pm
The sun blared down on her back, causing her tail to fan her back. That made her hotter, but it didn't stop the dark doe from taking even more steps after the buck. The mongoose started to stay in her shadow, the heat bothering his smaller body and he began to look back the way they came. Finding looked down at him, "Return if you want. You can find me if you need to." Her voice seemed to echo in her ears. An eye turned to look at the buck, he was still walking away.
A need to follow him, she continued walking towards him, with him. She wasn't about to look like a doe following, no she was an equal. Her steps became more confident as they walked. Should she talk to him or just wait? The sand was quiet and still to her ears.
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Posted: Thu Nov 01, 2012 8:12 pm
So she was determined to walk with him. Very well then. The sands laughed at her, whispering to him, settling the knowledge into his hooves, that she thought she was his equal. Water of Life was not necessarily deny that. They were equal in the eyes of the swamp, in the eyes of the MotherFather, where no life was more precious than an others'. But the sands laughed because of her dark pelt and the hot sun and the fact that Water of Life, despite his name, would not lead her to water.
No. He rarely did. He was a buck that dealt in knowledge, regardless if that meant life or death, not water. Some might say that he dealt out pain and that too, he would not deny. But he kept it to himself, the sounds of the sun crying out for blood and bones, the screeching wind, tearing against his sides, he listened and let it sink into him, listened so carefully and so well; to others there was only quiet.
And perhaps that was folly for the screaming brought truth, but then again, ignorance was sanity.
And maybe, Melange was the sanest of them all.
Regardless, he walked on, listening, never once seeming as if he even wanted to open his mouth to speak. He did not seem to notice the sun beating down on his dark back, it was a constant caress after all, nor the sand burning into his hooves. He walked and walked and if one were to look back, one would see the pair's hoofprints already by blowing away.
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Posted: Fri Feb 15, 2013 11:39 pm
Her eyes turned to him, the sun blaring into them but she was curious. This heat did not seem to bother the buck. Then again his pelt was lighter compared to hers. Finding was not sure where they were heading and she wasn't sure she should ask. The sands heated her hooves, water seemed to be draining out of her, but still she wouldn't stop. Finally getting the nerve up she opened her mouth. "Do you know where we are heading?" If he didn't seem to want to give his name, why should she give hers. It was a bit rude on her part, but sometimes it happens.
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Posted: Fri Feb 15, 2013 11:55 pm
When she spoke, the answer flitted through his minds, a soft whisper breath of personal truth that barely brushed against the clamor of answers that regarded all beings, all things, that dared to set foot onto the sand and even those that don't. He did not provide answers, nor the balm of spoken word. Those, those were rare gifts, offerings, sacrifices, or perhaps they were weapons, poison, dangerous. In the beginning, they were the first, but this buck had lived long enough to know that his answers were always the second. He had watched does and bucks alike disappear from his far reaching gaze after he dripped water-words into their ears, letting spiced thoughts touch their minds, and sunk his sweet, cloying breath into their bones. He he listened to the sands giggling, tickling themselves with the knowledge that those who listened, who truly listened to his words, had the seed of madness planted in their hearts. And so, he would sometimes return to their sides, drawn by that seed to offer water, but also relief for the seed lived off of desert cries and burning sun. It was a cycle as uncaring and vicious as his nature though he never purposely set out to treat them so.
And so, despite the wind egging him on, the sun pressed him, he did not speak. He did not answer her. Perhaps, if she continued to follow, the desire to share, to touch, would overcome him and she would press a small whimper of knowing to her, but never had a kin survived an onslaught, a deluge, of his madness and his sanity, so he would not burden her with the possibility. He continued walking, letting the sand lead him forward, and surely, they were not leading him to water, but he knew the invisible trails and tracks that traced the sand like his brother knew the ones worn into the dunes by daily exploration
This was the home of his dreams after all, the birthplace of his very being.SilverShieldwolf It's okay! I've let RP's sit for longer and I'm in no rush~ And anyhow, thank you for agreeing to RP with me and crazy Melange! He's not the most agreeable RP partner.
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