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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood; Dittany returns;
Topic Started: Jul 13 2014, 01:55 PM (477 Views)
mysterious_blue
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Dittany


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long shadows slowly retreated as rose steadily above the horizon. The two impossibly tall towers, for which this land had been named, stood as dark silhouettes against the brightening sky. Weeping towers was considered a sacred territory and, in past times, ownership of it had been the cause of many a battle between stallions. It was at times like these that one knew why it was placed in such high demand. Perhaps that was why Dittany had returned here. She felt drawn to this place, though she found it difficult to explain. It was not overly familiar to the maiden who was accustomed to the extremes of the desert lands, nor did any of her family reside here. Though he was kind and selfless enough to offer her aid in her time of need, Dittany felt no real attraction to the stallion who lived here. In all honesty, the golden mare wasn’t sure she could ever truly trust another equine again.

~~~~~

The Kathiawari stood grazing, her newborn curled up on the ground just a few feet away. Without intending to, the mare’s gaze kept sweeping back to the form of the slumbering infant, checking that she had neither wandered off nor gotten herself into any form of mischief. A snort of mild frustration is blown into the ground as Dittany averts her eyes; she still didn’t know what to do or if she could cope with being a mother to this particular filly. The regal mare could never forget what that stallion had done to her, nor could she ever forgive him for his crimes … but, even so, could she be cruel enough to abandon the filly? Perhaps it wouldn’t be cruel – if Dittany could never bring herself to truly care for the child, then surely she’d be much better off being adopted by another mare. The debate raged back and forth in the mare’s head even as she grazed, still instinctively checking on the newborn every now and again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ariadne Dittania Lasithi Minoa




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`d e p p
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and a larger version of the beautiful boy<3

A E S O N.

As Prime rises slowly above the horizon, the glittering rays reach towards the planet, filtering through the boughs of leaves that shelter where I stand. Their weak fingers fall slowly, tickling the dark lids of my eyes that flutter at their touch. Blinking away the rush of morning light, my jaws part in a wide yawn, pink tongue curling as my mind struggles to lift from the heavy fog of sleep. Not that I had gotten much, really. For most of the evening I had wandered throughout my territory, searching for nothing in particular save for the assurance that all of my mares are well and comfortable. Even though it’s been some time since that horrifying day, it still shakes me to know that one of my mares is no more—and I couldn’t bear for it to happen again.

Once I was satisfied that they didn’t need anything from me, I had taken to the borders, scouring them into the early (or late) hours of the morning. Though The Weeping Towers has a sense of sacred purity that is calming, it is that very fact (among many others, mind you) that keep me patrolling its perimeters often, wary of the possibility that another stallion might take too friendly of a liking to this hallowed place—or the pretty mares within. Thankfully, the only intruder I’ve had since claiming it as my own has been Vexare, a lovely maiden who has decided to linger with me for a while (I’ve not let it go to my head, so don’t worry).

By that time, when I was contented that my territory was secure, I had finally found a small cove of trees and allowed myself to be taken into sleep’s dark embrace. Only a handful of hours have passed since then, though I have long become accustomed to little rest. Dreams—or rather, a dream—has plagued me since…well, as long as I can remember. Often it wakes me in the middle of the night, leaving me with unpleasant shivers that refuse to let me slumber again (however, I had been graciously spared last night).

It is only a few moments before my eyes adjust to Prime’s soft rays, and the blurry shadows of the trees come into focus as they flutter in a cool spring breeze. Lengthening my neck as I shake my faintly-striped body, I then extend a banded foreleg as I set off through the thin wood, my black tail flicking around my flanks. It isn’t long before I catch something different about this day, the dark skin of my nostrils curling as I inhale the fresh scent. I feel relieved—more so than I had expected—to find that the Kathiawari mare has returned, hopefully safe and sound with an equally healthy foal trailing at her side. Eager to ease my (unnecessary) worry, I head in the golden mare’s direction, setting an easy pace so I don’t rush to disturb her peace.

She leads me near the two ancient towers, tucked away in a large clearing. Releasing a whicker just before I break from the tree line, my brown eyes find her grazing—and sure enough, there’s a dark bundle folded on the ground not too far away. “Dittany,” I greet her, approaching slowly and coming to a halt a comfortable distance away; I’m at a loss when it comes to expecting what she’ll be like with her newborn around, and the last thing I wish to do is startle or threaten her. “Welcome back; I hope all went well,” I flick my tail somewhat awkwardly, not totally sure how to proceed, but wanting the assurance that she is all right.

I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
Let me out of this dream.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ZEBROID HYBRID STALLION | THE WEEPING TOWERS | SEVEN YEARS OLD | SEAL BAY WITH BROWN EYES | NEUTRAL | 16HH
rowan x siason
Edited by `d e p p, Jul 16 2014, 04:39 PM.
Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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_______________________

There is a certain innocence that makes up a newborn life. She, this
creation that has been brought into the world, is delicate and helpless.
Without her mother’s milk and guidance she is sure to wither away, or
succumb to the predators that lay in wait for young meat to stumble
into greedy jaws. For now the newborn filly is immune to such worries.
She has not yet seen the monsters that crawl through the night. Still,
she clings to the only thing she knows, the voice she has heard since
before birth. The world has been laid out before her, and she is small
in comparison.

The journey to The Weeping Towers has exhausted the filly. She now
sleeps in the swaying grasses nearby her mother. She still wears the
blossom, battered by the journey, that her mother placed in her mane
the day the filly was born. She knows not how long she sleeps, for time
has little meaning to someone so young. Soon enough, however, a voice
lulls her from her slumber.

Her eyes flutter against Prime’s light, blinking back the bleariness that
momentarily keeps her from focusing on the dark figure that (from her
view) seems to stand as tall as the towers themselves. The filly comes
to stand on legs that seem far too long for her body, lazily shaking away
sleep before making her way to her mother’s side.

She acts on pure instinct, returning to the only safe place that she knows.
The warmth of her mother’s barrel is a comfort to her. Yet it is not in her
to cower from this masculine stranger. She regards him with a stoical stare,
for she knows not how to react to such situations. Perhaps, this would be
her first lesson in conversation… or just words in general.

______________eidothea;___

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antimony . balor . chaul . desdemona . eidothea . malady . opium . rowtag . ryse . scorn . sköll
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Dittany


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fatigue does not prevent the mare from noticing the approach of another equine. Though her curled lobes remain forwards, her gaze flicks back to her slumbering daughter, checking that she was still nearby. Instinct was not something that Dittany could fight and, thus far, her morals had prevented her from simply abandoning the child. But she could potentially walk away now; the newborn was so tired that she probably wouldn’t be capable of following, and the golden mare didn’t doubt that Aeson would find the youngster and a suitable substitute mother for her … yet still Dittany stayed.

~~~~~

Gaze is brought back to the line of trees before her, watching as the stallion’s form emerges from the shadows. Lobes flick back for a moment before turning forwards once more, her emotions conflicting again. She knew she was vulnerable – sore and exhausted from the ordeal of foaling and the journey back immediately after, but Aeson had shown her nothing but kindness and patience despite the mare’s moods. Yet Dittany couldn’t bring herself to trust him completely … she would never be able to forget or forgive what Still had done to her and her family. His actions may well have wiped out the majority of her kin and destroyed the life that she had once lived as a royal in the desert lands. He had not been what he seemed, his appearance had been deceptive – what was to say that this stallion wasn’t going to be the same?

~~~~~

Silvery strands flick around the new mother’s haunches as Aeson approached, unintentionally displaying her anxiety. Her head was raised so that she could meet the male’s gaze, but fatigue and aching muscles prevented her from retaining her regal posture. Chocolate-coloured eyes quickly scan the stallion’s features and body-language, though she finds nothing that suggests sinister about his approach. Dittany notices the stallion’s gaze flick across the clearing to where the infant was now rising to her hooves, but his attention quickly turns back to the mare, offering a welcome along with an “I hope all went well.” as if she had simply gone off on an errand, rather than having to endure one of the most traumatic experiences of her life. Thankfully, the golden maiden was too weary to respond with any real fervour. “Yes … thank you.” Dittany’s gaze awkwardly wavers away from the stallion’s, her newborn choosing this moment to provide a distraction as she wobbled up to her mother’s side. The golden turned to the child, hesitating for a moment before gently pushing the withered flower more securely into the filly’s mane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ariadne Dittania Lasithi Minoa


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OOC: So...I kinda ran away with this one xD -pets the goofball-
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A E S O N.

So…perhaps I had not made the right choice of words.

“I hope all went well”!?! Seriously? Not like this had been a major turning point in her life or anything insanely important like that. Gosh, what had I been thinking? That’s right—nothing, because my mind is a little bit of a jumble right now (lack of sleep and worrying—and worrying and fretting and worrying—will do that to you). Oh well, I realize this particular fact several moments too late, and I can only be grateful that the Kathiawari mare does not bite me for my foolishness…figuratively or literally. I continue to mentally chastise myself, biting my black lips uneasily for a moment as I flick the length of my dark tail around my muscled flanks.

Still, as my brown eyes continue to rest on the golden mare, I do not miss her apparent discomfort. I am not sure of the source, it could be many things after all, being a new mother and all that fun stuff. I can imagine that she feels quite protective of her little filly…as I’m sure I will be whenever my time comes to be a father. So, figuring I should make a wise decision for once, I decide to keep my distance from the two females. I’m still within comfortable hearing distance, obviously (don’t want to make things more awkward than they already are), but far enough to where Dittany wouldn’t feel like I would be a threat to either herself or her newborn filly.

“That’s…good to hear,” I force out, trying not to mess up again. What am I supposed to say concerning these sort of things? ‘Well done?’ No, too much like my father. Clearing my throat, I incline my head slightly towards her, hoping that…well, I’m not sure what kind of relationship stands between the two of us, but I hope that I haven’t bruised it. Whether she sees me as a friend or merely a (friendly?) stallion, I want her to know that she and her filly are safe—they are in my land, and therefore in my care. No matter how much she might fight the idea.

Out of the corner of my gaze, I catch movement, and turning my head, I see that the chocolate bay filly has risen from her slumber. Shaking sleep from her eyes, she wanders to her mother’s side. I watch silently, hoping to allow them two to share their moment together…but then the filly turns to look at me. She is young, but she is not afraid of me, a stranger, a foreign stallion, who is not her father—every instinct should be screaming at her that I could be danger. Right? But no. No, there’s no fear, maybe curiosity, I’m not sure what emotions lie behind her dark eyes.

Are they supposed to look at you like that?

Is this normal?

Shifting my weight under the filly’s stare, and feeling quite silly for it, I return my attention to Dittany. “She is beautiful,” and the words are genuine; the filly is quite lovely, despite her uncanny stare (that may very well be typical for all I know). “What have you named her? —If you don’t mind me asking,” I add quickly, not wanting to offend the Kathiarwari for being too nosy or something. I very well understand that this is a private matter for her, and will not force myself into it (other than their protection, of course). Flicking my tail, I wait for the golden mare to respond, for now studiously keeping my gaze on her blazed face and not on her newborn filly.

I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
Let me out of this dream.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ZEBROID HYBRID STALLION | THE WEEPING TOWERS | SEVEN YEARS OLD | SEAL BAY WITH BROWN EYES | NEUTRAL | 16HH
rowan x siason
Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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Dittany


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thea
The filly’s gaze remained trained on the brindled male that had approached, her head turned slightly to one side in an obvious display of curiosity. Aside from her dam, Aeson was the first equine that the nameless newborn had met, and he was vastly different to anything that she had encountered previously. He stood taller than her mother, he sounded different and his scent was strange. A delicate touch from her dam distracted the filly briefly, a squeaky nicker released as she wobbled a little closer to her mother’s golden form. Once relatively steady on her hooves again, the bay filly fixes her gaze back on the towering stallion.

*****

Dittany’s muzzle lifted away from the newborn after a fleeting touch, still trying to ignore her maternal instincts though finding it increasingly difficult to do so. The brindled stallion’s compliment distracts her briefly, the maiden taking a moment to ponder the words before her neck turns so that she can see the filly a little better. “I .. I suppose she is.” The mare’s gaze softened slightly, maybe starting to look at her daughter in a new light. She would never be able to forget who the filly’s sire was or the circumstances surrounding her conception – but one thing in the newborn’s favour was her appearance. She looked nothing like Still and, aside from a slight curve in her profile, it was almost impossible to tell that she had Arabian blood in her veins. The tips of her ears were delicately curved, not as much as her mother’s but that wasn’t necessarily unusual for the Kathiawari breed. An outsider may not be able to tell the difference, but dittany didn’t know if she’d ever be able to look past it.

~~~~~

Aeson’s next question draws the maiden’s attention, her gaze turned away from her newborn and towards the male who remained standing at a respectful distance. “What have you named her?” In truth, she hadn’t. Of course she’d picked out a name and one that was suitable for the title that the filly would inherit, but Dittany had yet to speak it. After all, if she was going to hand over the youngster to another mare, they would undoubtedly want to name her. Perhaps it was simply better to never tell the filly about the bloodline she belonged to, or how or why it was now in ruins. Perhaps it was better that she knew nothing of their ancient traditions – including the purpose of the withered bloom which clung to her mane. Is ignorance not bliss?

~~~~~

Silvery strands swish around the maiden’s hindquarters wearily, her lobes flicking back for a moment as she dithered over her answer. Even as a regal equine, she couldn’t deny that Aeson had gone out of his way to try and make her feel welcome, despite her attitude. It was not personal. Dittany had been thrown from one lifestyle to another – one moment surrounded by a herd, guards, advisors and holding a position of power … to nothing. If the brindled male knew of her past, perhaps he’d understand the maiden better, perhaps he could help to ease her pain or at least look beyond the past. But she couldn’t be sure of that. Perhaps he’d think her petty or weak or perhaps he’d take advantage.

~~~~~

It takes an almost physical effort to lay the ‘what ifs’ to rest. Her nasals flare as she takes a steadying breath, doing her best to hold Aeson’s gaze though she failed fairly miserably towards the end. “I’ve not given her a name yet. I … I don’t know if-“ The Kathiawari had to pause, composing herself again before trying to complete the sentence she’d left hanging in the air. “I’m not sure that I can be a mother to her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ariadne Dittania Lasithi Minoa



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`d e p p
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OOC: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long!
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___________________________________________________________________ A E S O N
Let me out of this dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I do not notice the golden mare’s hesitation at first, or the silence that stretches
between us as she appears to contemplate a proper response to my seemingly
innocent questions. At the moment, my attention is largely—if not a bit indirectly
—focused on the gangly young filly that lingers at her mother’s side. Still, she
stares! Staring…that must be the norm, there is no indication that it is otherwise;
at least in my insignificant experience with foals, Dittany’s filly is as healthy and
bright as any other. Surely she must be proud.

I purse my darkened lips, musing to myself and sparing the bay newborn a
fleeting direct glance. I deny to myself how silly I feel, acting this way around a
foal, but I would venture to guess that I am just about as curious of her as she
is of me. Will I be this awkward and useless around my own children? Oh dear…
now that’s a disconcerting thought.

Shaking it off and returning my attention to Dittany, it is only now that I catch a
glimpse of her uncertainty. One of my ears pricks sharply in her direction as my
brown eyes rest on her face, my other ear swiveling forward to match the other
as she finally speaks with cautious tones. I’ll admit, her words catch me off-guard
(to say the least). “What do you mean, Dittany?” I inquire of her, though there is
no trace of condemnation or judgment in my voice. I am concerned for her,
honestly, even if it is a bit lost in my confusion in the sudden turn of events.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, but—I’m afraid I don’t understand,” okay, that isn’t
entirely true. I do most definitely understand how terrifying the idea of being a
parent is, and doubting your ability to do so—welcome to my life. However, Dittany
hasn’t come off as the insecure type before—why now? Hasn’t she wanted to be
a mother? Flicking my black tail softly around my hocks, I venture a single step
forward, extending my muzzle in both concern and confusion. I’m not quite sure
what to do next—what I should do next.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
‘I can't turn this around, I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
LET ME OUT OF THIS DREAM.’

zebroid hybrid stallion | rowan x siason | seven years old | seal bay w/striped legs & brown eyes | neutral | 16hh


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

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Dittany


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The palomino knew what the stallion was going to ask of her, even before the words had even passed his lips, and she knew she couldn’t avoid the question - yet giving an answer meant admitting to her shortcomings. She knew now that she had been naïve, but aside from running away from the Arab brute, there was nothing she could have done differently. Even fleeing wouldn’t have provided a solution; her kin were still dying out and she still would have been expected to play her part in keeping the bloodline alive. Regardless of her actions, the outcome would have likely been the same, though that particular truth wasn’t a comforting one.

~~~~~

Aeson’s movement doesn’t go completely unnoticed. The maiden simply couldn’t bring herself to meet the male’s gaze or return his gesture – but she doesn’t back away either. Nasals flared wide, taking in a deep breath before she dared to respond to the brindled equine. When the words finally came to her, they were spoken in slightly hushed tones, almost as if trying to hide the truth from the newborn filly which lingered at her side. ”I never wanted a foal. I was obliged to carry one.” Dittany had to pause, lids closing over her dark eyes while she struggled to retain her composure. Perhaps being forced to explain her situation would make it easier to accept in the long run … nonetheless it was agonising for her to recollect now. And it wasn’t going to go away or be forgotten easily.

~~~~~

“Now … I just don’t know what to do with her.” There was no denying that the bay filly at her side needed a mother – she simply wouldn’t survive without a mare to provide for her. While Dittany was still uncertain about her suitability for the role and despite the circumstances surrounding the newborn’s conception, the Kathiawari would never wish for any harm to come to her firstborn. For a mare who had had her life practically decided for her, dictated by tradition and ritual, facing a decision as huge as this was crippling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Ariadne Dittania Lasithi Minoa



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_______________________________________________________________________ A E S O N
Let me out of this dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Not for the first (or second) time, I wonder if I have overstepped my boundaries—again.
Though seemingly an innocent enough question, it might have been too bold; Dittany
and I haven’t exactly been open to each other about everything, after all. I refrain from
fidgeting, releasing a slow and heavy breath from my nostrils as my dark eyes remain
fixed on the mare’s blazed face. But then again, I reason with myself, I don’t think I had
necessarily instigated it, right? She had offered a rather puzzling statement herself, and
it would only be natural for me to try and understand more. So trying to settle the noise
in my silly thoughts, I wait for the words that finally come. Dittany’s voice is softer than
usual, as though hidden from the bay filly at her side.

What she says, well, I had not been expecting it. For a short moment I feel a coldness
spread quickly over my body, freezing my muscles, and I am not quite sure what kind
of expression becomes encapsulated on my face. The idea should not be so shocking for
me. While I would never dream of forcing a mare into foal through deceit or obligation
myself, it was not something below my father. He hadn’t been as bad as some other Dark
stallions, but the greed was there all the same.

Still, I guess I had just assumed…that Dittany had wanted to be a mother. Fortunately
her eyes are closed most of the time, and so I can only hope she hadn’t seen my initial
reaction—if anything, I am grateful for her honesty, and her ability to trust in me. Well,
let’s not be too hasty here—but it’s as good a start as any.

I compose myself properly as she continues, my gaze flickering to the nameless newborn.
“I don’t know of any mares who are able to care for her—but I can search,” my attention
shifts back to the golden Kathiawari and holding her eye for a moment (or at least trying
to). “Or I could help you, if you’d like, should she stay here—y’know, protection and
support and all that good stuff,”
I bob my head once, not wanting Dittany think I am
trying to force myself into being an adoptive father or anything (the word father of any
sort sends numb nerves through me…the idea of protector or something is much more
comfortable to settle in).

“Dittany…” I continue hesitantly, my gaze flickering to the grass almost shyly before
returning to her, “Not that I have much experience, but…I think you could make a good
mother.”
I attempt a reassuring smile, but it feels too stiff and uncomfortable on my lips,
so it fades quickly. “I’ll support whatever your decision is, though,” I flick my tail around
my hocks, hoping that I haven’t made her feel worse. I realize that this is the first insight
that she has given me into her obscure past, however small it might be—and I don’t
want to abuse that.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
‘I can't turn this around, I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
LET ME OUT OF THIS DREAM.’

zebroid hybrid stallion | rowan x siason | seven years old | seal bay w/striped legs & brown eyes | neutral | 16hh


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

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