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Words not Spoken; Aeson please
Topic Started: May 9 2014, 05:25 PM (238 Views)
mysterious_blue
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The saltwater reaches, running along the length of my body as I walk along the shoreline. Frothy foam is stirred up around my hooves, the cool water kissing my hocks and staining my skin with its brackish dues, churning before it is released back to its mother ocean. My gaze lingers across the wide azure expanse, but it
is with a solemn expression that I look back towards the heart of this land that I have claimed as my own.

The two towers stand tall against the horizon, guardians even in their honored, time-worn age. They cast their shadows, protecting stories that have been written long before my time, ever vigil in their watch. The long length of my black tail flicks against my muscled flanks, caught in the soft autumn breeze as it glides from the trees and over the white sands. I am unable to tear my eyes away from the thick towers, wondering what they will come to tell of me.




Prime had worked its way across the heavens only once or twice since their last encounter, which had given the maiden plenty of time to reflect on what had transpired. Dittany had intended to convene with the stallion sooner, but Aeson had been busy rallying his own herd and escorting them to the Weeping Towers. Though the golden maiden had yet to cross path with any of them yet, it was hard to miss the new scents which lingered on the breeze. She would not have actively avoided any of the new inhabitants, but she was becoming steadily more inclined to steer away from other equines – as was natural. The lateness of her pregnancy was only becoming more obvious as time passed. The foal has started to shift into a new position, ready for its entry into the world – and while this meant that Dittany’s sides were a little slimmer, her underbelly had started to drop, making it all the more uncomfortable for the maiden mare.

Despite this, the Kathawari makes a point of seeking out Aeson. Though heavily burdened, Dittany still manages –somehow– to retain her regal posture and though her usually elegant paces are restricted somewhat, she remains relatively lithe on her hooves. The stallion’s musky scent leads her, conveniently, to the sandy southern shore. Saltwater rushes across the sand as each wave crashes on the beach, sending a salty spray into the air. Dittany had never given herself much of a chance to appreciate the shoreline; it had disappointed her initially as the sands were so different to those that covered her homeland – but she could see the potential appeal. For now, however, enjoying the scenery was very low on her list of priorities.

She knew what was happening to her, she knew what was just around the corner and she knew what it meant – but it terrified the maiden. Concentrating on just how she ought to approach Aeson and doing her best to ignore the discomfort of her condition was all that was holding that fear at bay. Golden lobes prick forwards, curled tips touching, as she finally sights her quarry. A brief whinny leaves her lips, both to announce herself to the male and hopefully to encourage him to close some of the distance between them. The Kathiawari breed may be well known for their endurance, but Dittany found herself to become fatigued now by even the shortest of journeys.

Silvery strands flick around the maiden’s haunches and she comes to a halt, her hooves positioned just beyond the reach of the surf and her gaze directed to the striped equine. “Aeson?” She pauses briefly, doing her best not to allow any hint of her emotional turmoil show to the almost-stranger she now stood before. “I wanted to apologise for my behaviour the other day. You were only trying to be hospitable and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” Dittany stood shorter than the zebroid, but that did not prevent her from meeting his gaze while she spoke. It wasn’t always easy for an equine of her social standing to be humble, but Dittany meant every word that passed her lips. A short pause lingers before she forms just two more words.

"I'm sorry."

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`d e p p
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I think everybody's nuts.
___________________________________________________________________________________________ A E S O N
Let me out of this dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The tall dark towers are almost omniscient against the horizon, hiding the stories and secrets that have
been written within their sacred borders. What things they must have seen, the joys and tragedies that
they must have watched over in the centuries that have passed since their mysterious origins. It is strange
for me to think that such inanimate objects can play the role in history as they do. As if they are watching,
waiting, for the events that continue to unfold within their hallowed realm. I cannot help but wonder if I
will disappoint both the past and future, the shadow that I am against the revered light that is bathed over
this beautiful place.

I try not to ponder on such gloom for long, despite the constant brooding that seems to darken me inside.
The length of my black tail flicks around my faintly-striped flanks as my brown eyes slowly drop from the large
towers. I wander forward with slow, measured steps, feeling no hurry and grateful to have the time to just
relax. My thoughts turn to mull over the last few days, what had happened, what will happen—and always if
I have done the right thing. I hope that my mares are settling well, and also hope that this is the final move
that they will have to endure. I feel terribly guilty for what I have put them through thus far, and can only be
grateful for their loyalty.

Thankfully, I am not allowed to worry for long. A short whinny drifts over the cool sea breeze, and I turn my
head to notice the petite golden form of Dittany approaching slowly. Turning more directly towards her, I pick
up an easy trot, knowing that travel does not come particularly easy in her condition. Blackened nostrils quiver
when I release an answering whicker as I draw near, my boldly-striped legs tossing up little flurries of moist
sand as I come to a gradual halt facing the mare. “Dittany,” I say after she utters my own name, smiling
softly, and waiting for her to continue. Fluted brown ears perk forward as she does, and I find that my dark
lips purse softly with her apology.

Honestly, it took me a short second to remember what she would even be apologizing for—the gritty details of
our last encounter had slipped my mind in the events that have happened since, which obviously meant that I
am not perturbed at all by her curt statement. “You have little to apologize for, I assure you that you have not
caused me distress in the days since,”
which is not entirely true, I have worried a little about her condition
and what complications can arise, but she doesn’t need to know that. Still, I understand her need to put things
in the right order, and so I continue with little fuss. “Nonetheless, I accept your apology, and am grateful for
it,”
I offer her a reassuring smile, trying to convey that she is at no fault as far as I am concerned.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I can't turn this around, I keep running into walls that I can't break down—
LET ME OUT OF THIS DREAM.


Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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Curled lobes remained standing at attention as the male trots over, coming to a halt a comfortable distance away while still remaining close enough to hear without difficulty, even over the sounds of the sea. Dittany does not fail to miss the expression that crosses the stallion’s features. Her own silvery strands twitch across her hocks as she stood as still as she could bear, awaiting his response. She could only hope that he would not simply dismiss her words, thinking her silly for being troubled by how she had behaved during their first encounter. She had learnt that these equines lived a simple life – she did not assume that they were dim-witted, just that their way of life was not as complex, and it appeared that they were harder to offend. Existence for an equine in these lands was much easier and they were not obliged to follow any traditions or observe any rituals. It would not be a surprise to the regal mare if there were some equines here who either did not know the identity of a parent, or had inadvertently crossed their own bloodline. There was no system, no obvious hierarchy except for the simple network established within the individual herds.

The golden mare listens to Aeson’s words carefully, choosing to wait until he falls silent before responding. “Thank you.” A very small sigh of relief passes her lips and her expression softens into a small smile, mirroring the male’s. It lifts a weight off her shoulders to know that there were no hard feelings between them, not that she was sure that she’d ever see the male again. Dittany had avoided giving any thought to what she was going to do beyond the next few days, she would figure it out when the time came.

A soft gasp fills the maiden’s lungs with a sudden rush of air, her lobes turning back and lids closing over her hazel eyes as her head is turned away from Aeson. It had been little more than a twinge and couldn’t really be described as painful, though it had managed to take the maiden by surprise. It only takes a moment for her to recover but Dittany remains in this position while she tries to silence the panic that threatens to overcome her. She had been taught what to expect, she knew that this would bring an end to her months of discomfort, but it still filled her with fear.
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`d e p p
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I think everybody's nuts.
___________________________________________________________________________________________ A E S O N
Let me out of this dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Thankfully, it only takes Dittany a short moment to thank me for accepting her apology (not that she
really needs to be grateful to me for anything in the first place). Nevertheless, I incline my head stiffly
towards her, the smile that graces my dark lips deepening slightly as the gesture mirrors the mare’s. I
am pleased that she does not drag out the situation any more, as I am sure that she wishes to have
no ill will between us just as I do. In all reality, I do not expect Dittany to linger within the borders of
the Towers any longer than she must—I have offered her a short time of hospitality, and after she has
…recovered, I assume that she will continue with whatever life she had held before our paths crossed.

I do not realize that my thoughts drift in the short seconds that follow, my brown gaze wandering from
the mare’s blazed face to roam lightly over the frothy waves that lick the shore’s white sands. However,
the sudden gasp that whispers starkly against the ocean’s rhythm reaches violently for my attention.
With my fluted ears perking in alarm, my eyes snap back to Dittany, finding her eyes closed in—pain?
Surprise?—in something that does not look comfortable. Instinctively I take a step closer, hovering in
concern, but unsure what I should—could—do.

With Dittany’s face still turned away from me, I lower my head so that it is just above the level of my
shoulders, more comfortable at the mare’s level. Flaring the thin blackened skin around my nostrils, I
extend my muzzle towards her, being careful to still give her enough space so that she would be able
to breathe (and I’m not completely sure what I should do anyway). “Dittany?” I speak slowly, softly,
her name lilting up with the uncertainty that I am trying to conceal, for her sake. I can’t imagine how
she must feel, considering how freaked out I am myself with this whole situation, and someone I have
only just met—she isn’t even my own mare. I try not to dwell on that particular route, and all the
anxiety that will bring, instead focusing on the golden mare.

Fortunately, I think that I’m able to control myself enough, and limit my anxiousness to the quick flick
of my tail around my muscled flanks. “Dittany,” I say again, trying to catch her gaze, “are you alright?”
I know it is a terribly silly question, foolish even, but I find that my tongue has grown heavy in the sudden
unease that has risen. For all I know (being terribly inexperienced with these particular things) this could
amount to nothing, being just more discomfort in her burden. Nonetheless, I cannot shake the obvious
surprise that was in Dittany’s expression, and how unusual this must be. I shift my weight, shrugging
my shoulders in a breathy sigh. “Is it…is it, time? Do you think?”

Not that she would know everything that is happening with her (she might), but who else could I turn
to in order to understand? Do I need to understand? Do I need to be worrying over a mare that isn’t
even my own? I huff inwardly at myself, knowing that as long as Dittany is within The Weeping Towers,
she is under my care. We may not have the bond or responsibility towards one another that I share with
my mares, but she is within my protection all the same, and I would hate to be the cause of any harm
to her. So now I wait, trying not to be too anxious, but fixing her with an earnestly concerned gaze.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
‘I can't turn this around, I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
LET ME OUT OF THIS DREAM.’


Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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Curled lobes are forced forwards as she raises her head, trying to resume her original posture though she can’t stand to hold the stallion’s gaze for more than a few seconds. His features are contorted by concern – for her. A mare he had met just once before and he was genuinely anxious about her well-being and, presumably, that of her foal too. Dittany had not settled within any herd since she had discovered the truth about Still; he had not been her family’s first choice when it came to finding a partner for the golden mare, on account of his breed and age more than anything, but he had seemed to be far from the murderous beast he turned out to be. Having to harbour his child had been sickening for the maiden mare, but at least during the gestation she could try to ignore it. Just not now.

Dittany knew how labour was meant to proceed; she knew that the spasms would get worse and potentially become painful enough to leave her completely defenceless. Had she been back home, she would have been escorted to a place of safety by now, surrounded by experienced mares to help her through the ordeal … but she was alone in a strange land. She wasn’t even sure if she knew where she’d be safe enough to give birth. Certainly not here. Panic starts to rise again, but the Kathiawari manages to squash it down once more. Her concentration turns vaguely to the sea as she forcibly fills her mind with calmer thoughts. In just a few hours it would all be over. She’d never have to deal with Still or his spawn again. One day she might even happen upon another survivor, perhaps even find a whole herd in the deserts and just start over. She’d be safe; she knew better than most other mares, she’d been taught well. She just had to trust in that…

Aeson’s question, asking if it was time, was only initially acknowledged by a small nod. A deep breath was forced though her lungs, trying to keep her thoughts calm and retaining her resolve, determined not to simply fall apart infront of the male. Her gaze dips as her jaws part, the words she utters are quiet, said more to herself than to the equine who stands nearby. “I’m just -” Another deep breath passes her lips. “I’m not ready to be a mother.” Golden eyelids close over her hazel eyes, as she continues to battle against the fear that threatens to overwhelm her. Reason tells her to move, find somewhere safe, but her hooves stay planted in the damp sand while the waves lap at her fetlocks.
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`d e p p
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I think everybody's nuts.
_______________________________________________________________________________________ A E S O N
Let me out of this dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

My brown eyes are fixed intently on the golden mare’s face, searching for any answer, while my
fluted ears occasionally flicker back and forth in my anxiousness. It is hard for me to distinguish
any real emotion among her pretty features (which I’m sure is a severe contrast to mine, seeing
as I’m probably a total wreck right now…and I’m not the one even having the baby). But still, I
can pick out some uncertainty—or fear?—among the composure that she seems so accustomed
to. My gut twists uncomfortably, but I do my best not to entice doubt any further.

At last, after the seconds that seemed to have stretched into hours, Dittany responds with a
small nod of her blazed head. Meaning…yes, it must be time. As the petite mare forces a heavy
breath, I hold mine, my muscled body growing still for a moment as my mind seems to freeze.
What should we do now? What can I do to help her? Is there anything that I can do? Of all the
questions that pummel my thoughts, there is one fact that is certain: Dittany must get to the
Quarry, safely, before it is too late.

Holding onto that knowledge, I pull myself back together, focusing now on the task at hand and
what needs to be done. However, as I move forward to usher her out of the Towers, I catch the
expression on her face, and it stops me short. My ears perk forward as she speaks, nearly missing
her initial words amidst the rhythm of the ocean, but what follows has me confused. Of course,
the part about not being ready to be a parent is something I understand completely—I am not
ready to be a father myself. But I had assumed that Dittany’s condition had come about as it
should: between two equines who care for each other and want to create life together.

Had I assumed wrong?

It takes me a moment to recover, but shaking my head, I quickly decide that questioning Dittany’s
life is not my business, and definitely won’t help her situation now. Taking a step closer to her, I
lower my head and speak gently. “I don’t think becoming a parent is something that anyone can
be ready for,”
I pause for a breath, my brow furrowing, “some might convince themselves otherwise,
but when it comes down to it, it’s a huge leap into the unknown for anyone.”
Not the most inspiring
speech, per se, but it is the truth.

I offer her a small reassuring grin, trying to warm my expression and comfort her before getting back to
business. “But it’s going to just be harder here,” I chuckle hollowly once, “so let’s get you going, yes?”
I don’t mean to be kicking her out of my territory, but with everything that’s at stake here, I’ll take my
chances if it means getting her to the Quarry in proper time. I angle my body to escort her, but I catch
myself, not wanting to rush her too much, after all. Slowly extending my muzzle towards her, I offer a low
whicker; it’s all a little wooden and awkward, but I never was good at comforting others.

I’m doing my best.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
‘I can't turn this around, I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
LET ME OUT OF THIS DREAM.’


Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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The maiden tries not to scoff at the stallion’s speech as Aeson misinterpreted her words, assuming – like one would – that the maiden had wanted to become a mother. What he didn’t understand, for Dittany had avoided sharing the fact with any equine, was that she had been all but forced. Perhaps not physically, but the maiden knew that she was obliged to continue her line. It was expected of her, it was the reason that she had been trained all her life – to ensure that she became a good leader and was able to secure a future for her dying breed. Anyone outside of the desert herds would find it hard to understand just how much pressure Dittany had been under to conceive. Had she refused to long enough, Still may have forced her regardless … and her pride meant that she would do almost anything to prevent that from happening. The Kathiawari had hesitantly consented to a foal just a few months after leaving her home herd; her intention being to get it out of the way as soon as possible. But it hadn’t worked out as she had hoped.

Curled lobes turned back and the mare’s jaw clenches a little as the discomfort returns, still not painful but definitely there. She wasn’t going to be able to ignore the child’s existence any longer. Even now, Dittany didn’t know what she was going to do once it was born … did she really have the heart to abandon a foal? But could she bear to live with Still’s offspring at her side? Just the thought of that brute and his crimes was enough to bring stinging tears to her eyes. So many emotions whirled round that Dittany thought she might pop, but anger, hate, loss and despair were the most prevalent.

She was almost grateful to hear Aeson’s voice at that point, cutting through those knotted emotions to bring her thoughts back to the sandy shore on which she stood now. Lids blinked over her eyes, clearing the burning tears which had threatened to trickle down her cheeks. Dittany made an effort to raise her head above the level of her withers once more, not quite able to keep her usual posture but at least she was more upright. Silvery strands flicked around the mare’s haunches nervously as Aeson moves closer, his body brought roughly parallel with her swollen form and ready to escort her out of the territory. Her gaze focuses on the stallion’s face, watching carefully as his muzzle is offered out to her, obviously trying to offer the maiden mare some reassurance.

Dittany hesitates; If Aeson knew more of her past, he would have understood the long pause and her reluctance to allow herself to trust. But the Kathiawari didn’t have much of a choice … she didn’t know where Aeson intended to lead her, but neither did she know the rituals of expectant mares in these lands – and time was against her. Dittany didn’t have much of an option other than to place some trust in this almost-stranger and allow him to lead her away. Pale muzzle eventually extends forwards a little, falling far short of making contact with Aeson, but it was enough to show willing. Her tail flicks nervously around her haunches once more as she waits to be escorted away.
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