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And Truth would skim the flowery glade; Closed, for now, Icarus only please =)
Topic Started: Nov 3 2013, 06:58 PM (316 Views)
mysterious_blue
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A familiar scent is brought to her on the sweet spring breeze, though it has been a number of months since she last crossed paths with the individual it belonged to. Back in the lands of the Homeless, Icarus had been cautious when it came to describing his herd, though he had been sure to tell her exactly where he resided. ‘The Weeping Towers’ – aptly named it seemed. The two impossibly-tall structures could be seen on the horizon for miles around, enabling an equine as unfamiliar with the land as Dittany, to find her way with relative ease. The Kathiwari were horses of reasonable endurance; the desert sands and great distances between sources of water meant that they had to be very capable at travelling and light on their hooves. Dittany was no exception ... in usual circumstances, at least.

Strands of silver flick irritably against the mare’s distended barrel, the disfigurement now obvious to just about any equine who cared to look. And Dittany had very little doubt that Icarus would be the sort to do so, perhaps even be so bold as to question her about it. The golden maiden could not worry over such things now, not in her current state of fatigue. The journey from the Scantland had been long and hard on the young maiden mare, the weight of the child she carried was now enough to slow her down, but at least the fatigue prevented memories or grief from swirling around her head quite as often. Even her near-constant movement seemed to have soothed the child that infected her womb. It would only be a couple more weeks before Dittany would be free of the spawn that beast had implanted within her – but there was still the birth to endure.

Even before she had come of age, healers had tried to prepare her for the honour that was to continue her family’s bloodline. They had told her what plants to avoid while carrying a child and quieted any fears that she may have had about foaling, taught her how to deal with the pain and suchlike, but they had also said that an experienced mare would be at her side when the time finally came. But they wouldn’t. Still had seen to that; everyone she had once known or loved were gone now, leaving her to endure this alone. She wanted them back, she wanted her old life back, even if it meant sacrificing her title and living as a common herd-mare, Dittany would have done or given anything to turn back to clock to a time when the world had been kinder.

Even with the boarder far behind her, Dittany does not bother to announce her presence, she is too weary for such measures and she suspects that Icarus would be aware of her arrival soon enough. Instead she decides to take advantage of the resources available to her and heads towards the tell-tale gurgle of a stream. Curled lobes flick wearily as the maiden makes her way through the foliage, eventually finding her quarry and halting at its banks while she quenches her thirst.
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Always.
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madie
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The towers loom forlornly over the trees, with watchful eyes and imposing shadows. They are an easy landmark to guide the weary traveler through the Offland, with only a few dense areas of forestry to barricade one’s entrance into the land itself. Icarus strolls along the borders of his territory, searching for peculiar scents and wayward bachelor stallions to run off. Spring is a dangerous time for a herd stallion, and while Icarus and his herd were relatively off the grid as far as politics and the like go, he was still meticulous in his patrolling.

His paranoia had kept him from revealing too much to Dittany in the homeless - the scent that he was following now. He did not care to share information in front of strangers - stallions that would seek to take his mares for their own. Perhaps, the aspect of being challenged for his mares or land was inevitable, but Icarus had no intention of becoming an easy target.

He finds her, just as beautiful as before, and just as weary, along the banks of the stream that cuts across the new spring grasses. Her barrel is distended with pregnancy, likely by Cael, for the timing would have been correct. Icarus finds a place beside her along the soggy banks, and while his thirst beckons him, he does not drink. Instead he offers a smile and a dip of his head in greeting.

“Dittany.” He says, his voice rugged and deep, but with the softness of the gurgling stream below their feet. “How have you been, lady fair?” He can still see in her face, so delicate and beautiful, the weathering of emotion, and the hardness of heartbreak. He wears a mask not unlike her own.

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antimony . balor . chaul . desdemona . eidothea . malady . opium . rowtag . ryse . scorn . sköll
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mysterious_blue
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The mare may be nearing exhaustion, though she does not fail to notice the sound of approaching hoofbeats, nevertheless she resists from the natural urge to react to them instantly. Instead she continues to take sips at the cold water until the stallion finally draws near and comes to a stop just a few feet away. Dittany barely knows the male, having only met him once before, but does not flinch away from his proximity. Icarus didn’t come across as a rash equine, nor was his approach aggressive, so the maiden went upon the assumption that he remembered her from their previous encounter and intended her no harm.

His deep voice reaches her lobes before she has a chance to raise her head, but the use of that calling makes her hesitate. The mare had many names, as was traditional in her family, it was just that ‘Dittany’ had been used mainly by one individual – even now a small shiver coursed down her spine at the thought of that stallion. Her eyes close tightly for the briefest of moments, helping her to clear away memories both good and painful so that she could deal with the present. An uncomfortable kick from her unborn offspring brings her round sharply, causing her lobes to flatten against her poll before realising that Icarus was still standing there, watching her. It was not as if the maiden wasn’t used to being watched – she had her whole life – but it was different now.

Steading herself, the mare fights against her fatigue to stand a little taller, however the lateness of her pregnancy is restrictive and the foal seems determined to make its presence know. Dittany does her best to ignore and restrict the effects of its irritable movements, letting her posture suffer slightly in favour of comfort for once. Its only now that she lets her gaze wonder across to Icarus; he hasn’t changed at all since their last meeting, apart from the last remnants of a winter coat perhaps. Even his simple question posed an obstacle to the golden mare, she had no desire to lie but neither could she be entirely truthful. She wasn’t here to spread misery to the liver chestnut equine, just hoping to find somewhere to remain for the last few days of the gestation. “As well as can be expected.” Dittany chooses not to expand on the point, ignoring the fidgets of her offspring and instead trying to concentrate on simply remaining on her hooves while she addressed the male. “And what of you, sir? I trust that your herd is still thriving?” Even to Dittany the words sound awkward, almost hollow, but she cannot take them back now. Instead she waits with as much patience as she can muster, keeping her concentration on keeping her features neutral and limiting the irritable swishing of her silvery strands against her contrasting hide.
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Always.
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