New lands appear. New alliances are made. Darkness once more threatens the world.
 
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 On My Own [OPEN]

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Saphira

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PostSubject: On My Own [OPEN]   Tue Feb 12 2013, 08:14



And now I'm all alone again nowhere to turn, no one to go to
Without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to
And now the night is near
Now I can make believe he's here


She tried to shake away her despair, even as she galloped full-speed along this new land that she had entered, following the winding paths, twists and turns, of the river that gurgled merrily. It was a complete juxtaposition to her current feelings, where she was trying to drown herself in a metaphorical flood of self-despair and pity.

Just a smile, Eponine thought wistfully to herself, shaking her white mane out of her eyes irritably. I'd take anything. If only he'd given me just a smile.

Marius was - and still is - a fine stallion, whom she had fallen head over heels in love with. She would have done anything for him, if he'd but ask. Anything - even lead him directly to the mare he had been infatuated with when he'd asked her to find the beauty. Eponine had watched the two young lovers for a distance, her heart breaking and shattering just a little more, when she had realised that Marius had already forgotten all about her.

You'd have thought years of friendship would have meant something to him, she thought wistfully, thinking back to those golden days.

Anyway, Eponine had been heartbroken, and had left, not long after. She could hardly bear staying there and watching the stallion slip just a little further away from her.

Eponine picked up her speed, focusing on the burn in her muscles, the rasp of air as it moved in and out of her lungs. Anything, but the aching loneliness she housed within her soul. She felt as though she were screaming, yearning for someone to hear her, to sweep her off her feet, to love her wholly, to cherish her, when no others would.

She wasn't asking for much, was she? Was she really that unlovable? Even since young, her very parents had used her as nothing but just another bargaining chip as they played on their victims' sympathy card. Just a tool - usable and disposable. She knew she was plain, she thought wretchedly, coming to a rough stop at the source of the river. Plain, but surely there was someone who saw some redeeming quality within her?

Surely there was someone waiting out there for her.

Surely, there was someone who would love her with his whole heart.

In return, she would hand her very heart and soul up to him on a silver platter. There would be nothing she would not do, no distance she would not travel, for someone she loved.

I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life I've only been pretending
Without me
His world would go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known


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PostSubject: Re: On My Own [OPEN]   Tue Feb 12 2013, 11:47



A huge horse walked through the trees. No need to trot he covered too much ground when he did too fast with legs the length of his. He smiled though as he walked. There was such peace in these lands, and he knew it was the perfect place for his family to restart.

Seeing a very pretty pinto mare, he walked slowly towards her. "Hello there."
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PostSubject: Re: On My Own [OPEN]   Tue Feb 12 2013, 12:50



They call me....Shetani

The sea will never run dry, my dear
Nor the rocks never melt with the sun
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love
'Till all these things be done, my dear
'Till all these things be done

As pure and unreadable as the inside as a blank book containing pallid pages which could be easily torn with just a touch. Even a breath could breathe scars upon the unwritten pages that were considered futures. Sometimes, the mind seemed to wander to think that all destinies were preset and that even the strong could not bare to defy that which was decided from a greater power descended to them.

Night time was the only savior of souls, where the dreary could rest their shattered hearts and the tired could rest their weary souls. Weary was his soul and tired was his heart from being shattered so many time, but constantly trudging through a pool of sorrows did his pillars carry him. Each touch of the wind reminded him how cold the world was and how warm his form was, regardless of how he wished it limp upon the surface of the earth; slowly becoming one with her silence. She was like a bird, one with everything around her - the earth, trees, and sky together. Harmonic. Melodious.

In all things, perfection rose to be nonexistent, like a gentle flower wilting under the hot rays of the sun. They too wilted and become things they did not wish to be but became either way as a force of nature pushed them to which the fought the most. And he had fought not to leave, but the night pulled him, twisted him, and malformed him until a monstrous creature of the wood. The only monstrosity was his heart.

Nothing was left except the storm above him that traveled to the swamp that he made his dwelling. The Swamp. The Devil's Swamp. Yes, that was what it was called - a place where everyone was a slave and no one was free. Even in wanting slaves of his own, there was something missing, and it was a dream that had brought him here, all too vivid to ignore. It demanded his immediate attention, just as a child demanded the attention of his endearing mother. Such a pleasure had never been his - the murky waters were his mother...his home...his life.

So long had his daggers touched the earth lightly and quietly that he had lost track of the time between his leaving the terrain he had stayed in for so long a time...for as long as the rain and snow fell from the skies and returned not. Simply, they watered the earth, making the seed of the sower break forth and sprout in the grounds of perished life. Only waters remained to sate the thirst of an individual alone in the world...singing to himself to pass the time by. To the sower, they gave seeds...yet to the hungry they gave food. So shall be the word of those with nothing that would accomplish all that it was worth and prosper in the thing that it was meant to be. Much like a seed were their hearts, sowed or to be used as nourishment for those who had not but wished to have. He had not...but was not sure yet which he wished to obtain. Solitude always won, though, when it came to this mental discussion...

Night was near on the horizon just as a sigh escaped his fatigue-withered features, and almost did he shed a tear for the life that he led. Just as he looked back, he saw but a simple fae and knew not who was more broken, he or her. Like a dove flapping her broken wings to escape to a lighter world she was, orbs a'gleam by the lakes of life in a surreal environment only known to her. In her world, was the lass, a'drifting away from all that she wished to have.

Easily, his pillars closed the distance between the part of the grove that they stood upon. Another was here, but the ways of the beholder disallowed him to speak to anyone that was not of interest. "Hello, lass," he said, thick Scottish accent creeping into his words solemnly, tainting them with a cheerfulness that was not present as it pained him over.

"Aye, it is a gorgeous night. I always remember that the stars are alone as I am, though, lass, and it makes me heart hurt a tad less," he said quietly, heart weeping for all that had been lost. Though the torture of many was upon his soul, and he regretted it not...something seemed to spark in his soul to not want to make her his slave for all eternity. Well, it was bound to happen eventually. He supposed that even the most dark, hateful creatures had some feeling of affection within them for those that appealed to their senses, their feelings.


O yonder doth sit that little turtle dove
She doth sit on yonder high tree
A'Making a moan for the loss of her love
As I will do for thee, my dear
As I will do for thee...
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PostSubject: Re: On My Own [OPEN]   Tue Feb 12 2013, 13:25

Thunderstorm stared at the cobalt stallion that appeared. not afraid of him at all. but something told him nothing nice would come from this encounter. young though he was, Thunderstorm was not inexperienced in his life. Lightning markings on his body crackled as the other came near, lightning up his hide in a brilliant display of colour.

He noticed that the other stallion did not even acknowledge his presence and that was rather rude. "And i am Thunderstorm."
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PostSubject: Re: On My Own [OPEN]   Wed Feb 13 2013, 06:23

Her parents had had little time for her, often pushing her to the side and giving her little treats to buy her affection. At that tender, young age, she thought that it had been a symbol of how much her parents truly loved her, that they would buy her small trinkets from wherever they went. As she grew up, however, things changed. Eponine was no longer the young, naive creature that she had been. She had grown into the age where her love and affections could no longer be tended to by mere trinkets, and she had wondered. Eventually, she had realised the sobering truth.

She was not wanted. Oh, she had been useful. But she had not been wanted as her other friends had been by their parents, like Cosette was by her adopted father.

There were few things that she remembered very clearly, vividly, or could even picture in her mind's eye. Her childhood, she realised, as she cast her mind back into the past, had been a whirlwind of activity - much, much activity, but little sentiment or emotion. The days that had long passed had blended into each other, each one as grey, as dull as the next, with few comforts and truly memorable incidents to spark her memory.

However, there was one. One scene which shone the brightest, which formed the clearest image when she thought back to the days long gone. She had been only a year old, bright-eyed and excited as her sire had brought her out with him to watch the sun set after the end of a long, profitable day.

Carpe diem, Eponine, he had advised, sounding pompous and wise and world-weary at the same time. Seize the day. You understand, eh?

Eponine had merely nodded, not understanding at all, but willing to pretend she did for the sake of impressing her father. The stallion had not responded to her vigorous nodding, and had simply walked away, leaving her standing there all alone on the rocky outcrop.

Till this very day, Eponine did not really understand what he had meant by that. She doubted she ever would.

Jerking herself out of her depressing thoughts, the pinto mare shook her head roughly, trying to scatter them like flies. Tossing her head up defiantly, challenging the entire world, challenging herself, for control over her own mind, Eponine stomped a hoof into the ground, closing her brown eyes and letting the music of the rippling, shining liquid in front of her chase the darkness away.

Carpe diem, she reminded herself, breathing in the fresh, cool air deeply. Live in the moment.

Opening her eyes once more, Eponine fixed her glistening pools of chocolate upon the star-speckled waters that were softly churning, each wave playfully tumbling over each other. Was this meant to be soothing? The great openness and silence of this land spooked her, after the city noise and shouts of Parisian life. It was too quiet here, all of a sudden, the air too stifling. She was alone once more, alone with only her thoughts for company, and not a face she knew in these lands.

Her breathing growing harsher, Eponine tensed, flicking her mane out of her eyes and nickered tentatively, longing for the sound of other voices, for the warmth of someo - others, to surround her and comfort her.

A soft clearing of a throat startled her, and the fae spun around, eyes wide in astonishment that someone would willingly and voluntarily seek her out for company. The sight that confronted her dazzled and bewildered orbs left her startled and struggling for words. A green horse! With lightning sprinkled over his green pelt.

"H-hello," she stuttered, looking for a moment terribly young, and terribly out of her depth.

When the new voice entered her hearing range, Eponine visibly tried to draw herself together... Just before falling apart again. The thick, Scottish brogue was pleasant to her ears, even as she answered in a heavily accented tone. Still, even the sound of his voice could not keep the young fae from staring at his grey-green pelt, and the fins that sprouted from his neck.

She swallowed, glancing at the two and taking a hasty step backward.

"G-good evening, Sirs," she greeted by force of habit alone. But even if the strange, exotic colours of their pelts startled her and made her wary, the warmth of their bodies and their voices drew her nearer, like a moth to a flame, like bees to honey - for she was so cold inside. The wind blew softly, carrying along the scents of the wild night, and the more comforting flowers and trees and shrubs. Even so, nothing, Eponine was sure, could beat the sound of other's voices.

"My name is Eponine," she introduced herself, hardly daring to believe her luck - or the hope that was slowly unfurling in her heart. The fact that they were stallions coming to speak to a mare had to mean something, did it not?

Her brown eyes looking at Shetani's, the brilliant smile pasted on her face for their benefit wobbled slightly, before shattering once more. Quickly, she spun around to face the churning waters once again, closing her eyes to hide the misery within her eyes that threatened to drag her downward into a dark spiral that had only one outcome - her death.

She was being selfish. Eponine struggled to remember what the damp stallion had said, that had so completely broken down her defences and cut to the crux of the matter. How had he known? Was she that painfully transparent? Eponine once more tried to fight off her insecurities, the fear of her inadequacy.

"I'm sorry that you hurt," she whispered quietly to the waters, not yet daring to face the stallions, afraid of their judging eyes. "It is a terrible thing, to be lonely. But I believe that you have a fallacy there, good Sir." Eponine lifted her head, turning slightly so that she could see both stallions.

"The stars are not alone. Have they not many of their brethren in the sky with them? They sparkle like diamond and stones of the most precious kind. They have glamour and beauty, and all the bards would sing of their worth. Perhaps, good Sir, you should look instead at the Sun and the Moon. They are only one of their kind, alone in the world. Surely, that would better assuage your sorrow?"

Her lips lifted in a practiced smile with no emotion behind it, even as her heart raged at her at the utter untruth of her words. All the glitter and glamour in the world did not make up for love. Nor did being amongst so many of the same kind prevent one from being lonely.

She, after all, was living proof of that.


(OOC: O.O No idea what happened to the post. It just... exploded xD)
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PostSubject: Re: On My Own [OPEN]   Sat Feb 16 2013, 18:48

Nothing.

There seemed to be nothing but the wind, sweeping a facade of contentedness over his solemn features as he stood before them in shadow. Even the lonesome creatures of the night seemed to stray from their habitual course of action to watch with sweet pools the river flowing into the abyss. A dream was shattered and he was awake now in the midst of his past and future, at war with himself and fighting which welled inside him - and struggling to stay where he was. Struggling to be what she...someone would desire, for no one deserved to be a living abattoir nor to be in the presence of one.

A shiver ran down his spine as he looked to the stars, knowing that only they held the purity that so many claimed was living in their soul. This loss of innocence was evident in their lives, in their souls to accept survival and to realize that immorality was but a fantasy they all had dreamed of many a long, tiresome night.

I'm Alive.

Like a shattering of glass, the thought exploded within his mind..neurons transmitting a million thoughts at once so that he thought that his cranium would explode from the sheer thought of the matter. Only was life relevant when there was a reason for existence rather than to exist only in shadows of a body speaking as an angel yet acting upon the words of hatred and deceit. Every victim seemed all to delicate as their strength faded beneath their crumpled forms - they longed for the glorious light of their falsities, was the excuse that so many of them used as their last breath escaped them.

Was he truly awakened from a former slumber that had coerced him into the monster that condemned his soul? It could be that purely the creature that ate at his mort flesh was the true cretin of the earth, one that could not hide from the reality of who he truly was. Angels would hide from his heart and would run from the rancid stench of his personality that reeked for miles and miles on end. Until the end of the earth.

Earth had failed him, just as he had failed the world. All love and mercy had forgotten of his existence, while he had caused her creatures to suffer for their master's deeds. Some would call him tortured, some would call him demented and set in his ways. Blinded by light was he and his comfort eroded; only in the darkness was he at home. Only the swamp had provided him a lush haven for a soulless demon to dwell, as it had many years ago. Why was it called the swamp of the devil, after all? Did this mean that the creature at the heart of the black heart could not feel anything but hate? After all, fire ran not through his veins...but water did.

Their destinies defined them, and it was getting harder to stay awake in this role that he was playing before the beautiful fae. Morality came into question often by others that observed him...and of course judgments. What he believed inside could not be clearer to his unreadable eyes. He felt like he was waking up from a long slumber for the first time in a long while.

She is breathing life into me.. his mind whispered at the corners where it formed thoughts from the damp darkness. So badly did he want to reveal himself to her. What would she think if he showed her the razors that thrived under his velvet lips? Or the blood that he had ingested from countless victims that were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Would he just say that everyone had to eat? Did she even know what the hell he was?..Or who he was?

Fighting the sickness was like fighting a war against fifty when you were the only one standing. Nearly impossible. I'll do what I want, this is my life he fought mentally, hardly keeping a straight face to her as he thought deeply against himself.

It hardly bothered him that the other stag was there, for reverting to his old ways to dispose of him ever so easily wouldn't be too difficult, he supposed. Turning away from her for a moment to get a fresh drink of water, he flashed his razor sharp ivories at the other stag, simply as a warning to him not to say anything derogatory. Especially about his swamp...because surely the Devil's Swamp was not a terrain of evil and darkness. No. Of course not.

Shetani was much like a shattered glass incinerated and melted down into the most primitive form that nature could muster. For him, the pure instincts were all that he acted upon, working upon none of the civilization that so many of their kind followed. Conduct? Since when did he follow the rules?

Sweet music to his harks were her vocals, so lucid in speech and flowing like a celtic song of dance. Rhythm followed her and seeped into her pores through the emotion she expelled with a simple breath. Far too many of them cherished every word that was said and thought of every moment as significant, including himself. Too many years had passed to see significance in the smaller things. Didn't they say...good things come in small packages?

Quickly, he noticed that she was staring directly at the fins that protruded from his sides and put his skull down in shame, hoping that he did not offend her. This was the only real attempt he had given to be good to anyone, and he felt he was doing a horribly shabby job at it. Easily, he pulled his fins in to his side, knowing that he could retract them so that they did not show. "I apologize if I gave 'ye a fright, lass," he said quietly, bright orbs staring directly to her now, as if he was looking into the very inner cortex of her heart. It was so simple and pure, like the bonny countryside of his homeland. So pleasing were her vocals, almost like home. She shared the same passion for speech that he did.

Only then did he realize that it was not only his appearance that bothered her - something else was on her mind, as was on his. "I suppose it is, in fact, a good evening," he said in a easy tone, trying to stray from the simply fact that he lay shattered before her.

"Ah, I suppose I did not introduce myself. I am Shetani," he said lucidly, thinking as himself a snake as he spoke to the beautiful fae so easily. A charming deceitful bastard others would call him, though none of these things rang in his mind as he spoke for her. It was not intended for him to deceive her, though he deceived most in the end even if they loved him so. How dangerous his mind was, and how dangerous it was to love one who aged not.

Still, he did not even throw a glance at the other stag, for the reason that he was here was not because of the weak stag. It was for the perfect maiden that sobbed in her heart, just as he did in his own.

"My sorrow is but my own...and brought upon me for good reason. Each star in the night sky reflects individuality, as well...but they are more unknown to us. I feel no sympathy for myself. Only for the stars themselves do I feel sorrow for...for their beauty has become nullified by worldly creatures such as yourself who would captivate even the sun and moon themselves," he said slightly, a true and genuine look upon his features. "You know not which many years spent in sorrow have told. Sorrow...is not particularly a negative aspect of life, for we all feel it at some time," he said, breathing easily as he looked to her for the answers.

Inside, he wept for life and for all that life had given him. Inside, he died for her and breathed her in, in one moment of time.

OOC: Just for curiosity's sake, the song I was listening to when I wrote this was Awake and Alive by Skillet. And this thing is a whopping 1378 words w/o coding, etc Dx


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PostSubject: Re: On My Own [OPEN]   Fri Feb 22 2013, 05:54

They were strange, these creatures of the wild. The way they talked, moved, lived... It was so different, so unlike her and her ilk. Back in Paris, they led materialistic lives, based on politics and greed, plotting and theft. Honour and chivalry, purity, especially, were noticeably absent in her homeland.

They were all such greedy, such vicious creatures. War and famine, disparity and social polarisation of the haves and have-nots was undoubtedly present, but mainly ignored, leaving them to suffer in misery till the day they died.

All of them had lost their innocence too young.

Eponine closed her eyes wistfully, shaking her head so that her pale mane fell over her eyes, even as her mind tugged her back to the past once more. Again, she relived - and grieved for - the simple pleasures of childhood, where she had believed that all was right in the world.

Once, but no longer. Not anymore. And again, her heart cried out in loss, gnashing its teeth and clamouring, raising its voice in anger and despair at having been stripped, denied, the full course of what should have been one of the happiest moments of her short life.

Oh, it hurt indeed. And even as she inwardly wept, part of her raged at her selfishness, at her behaviour. Self-pity? At this time? She did not deserve it Her childhood had been good - better than most. She had been warm and comfortable and well-fed, rather than left starving on the streets, begging for food, picking up scraps, and even doing terrible, unmentionable things in order to simply survive.

In comparison, she had lived in the lap of luxary.

She had absolutely nothing to complain about.

More than this, however, Eponine wondered at the sense of freedom of these wild horses. She marvelled at it, turning the thought over and over in her head, seeing how it tasted. And oh, nothing had ever tasted as sweet as that word.

Freedom.

She, as all the others, had been confined in a certain caste, had had certain expectations thrust upon her for her entire life. She had played the part, being a dutiful daughter, a respectful friend, and a submissive mare, whichever was needed at the moment. It had become almost second nature to her!

But these.. Eponine turned her eyes to Shetani, tilting her head as he gaze raked him in wonderment, and not a little bit of pleasure. He - they - had no need to conform to any societal pressures. Yes, perhaps there still were certain standards to be met. However, they had pelts of different exotic colours, spoke in no strict, structured way, and nor did they limit their movements and bow and scrape.

They were proud beings, wild and untamed. They knew not the cut of the bit and bite of the whip. They answered to no one, and their spirits were wild and free.

Eponine longed to join them, to learn how it could be like. Longed to have companionship once more, without fear of rejection or of being second-best. Longed to act like herself, with no one to chide and reprimand her for it.

Without knowing it, the young fae had taken a few steps closer to the two stallions, eyes wide and bright, sparkling and glittering with the force of her revelation.

The strange colours and magics that surrounded the two no longer her bothered her - as much - now. No, not strange. Exotic and new and refreshing. She turned wide eyes to the gloomy-green stallion's fins, still unable to comprehend how such a thing could be, could exist, but it no longer shocked or disgusted her.

Eponine nickered a little in distress as he lowered his head, stowing his fins away somewhere safe, out of her sight. Oh, how rude she had been! Staring at them and gaping like some uncouth maiden. How shamed he must have felt, how uneasy and self-conscious.

"Good Sir," the young fae murmured a little hesitantly, the urgency still somehow managing to make its way through the two words she had uttered. Had she offended him?

She gulped a little nervously, giving him a tentative smile as she steeled herself to continue.

"Please, do not hide you true self on my account. I feel no disgust, nor horror when I look upon you. I was merely startled at the sight - I have never seen such a one as you before!"

He was looking at her now, staring deep into her eyes, right into the very depths of her lonely, aching soul. Eponine shivered, falling abruptly silent, and found that however hard she tried, she could not look away! She was trapped in that dark, unfathomable gaze. It drew her closer, urged her to feed the flame she could see brewing behind those expressionless orbs.

"Mister Shetani," Eponine whispered shakily, looking down bashfully to hide her flustered, delighted look, once the stallion had released her from his impressive gaze. Her loneliness had gone, as fleetingly as it had come.

She was not alone now. In the company of the stallions, she felt at ease, her tension slowly draining away, even though the wound along her heart still gaped open, as raw as the day it had been inflicted upon that vulnerable organ that she had strove so heart to protect.

She felt warm. His company had chased away the coldness from her limbs, from her chest, leaving in its place a tingling warmth as she stared up, slightly worshipfully, into the face of this new stallion she had only met, but felt as though she had known him for far longer.

His words never failed to make her feel a tumult of emotions, be they sadness, anguish, shock, or plain pleasure, as the words he had just spoken did. Her eyes softened even more, as she took a few steps forward again, unconsciously, gravitating toward him as though he were the sun and she the moon.

"You cannot mean that, Sir," she protested shyly, her sorrow long forgotten in the delight that this stallion's company brought her. "I am no such beauty. The stars would hardly notice my presence. However, they would, I believe, notice yours."

Eponine tossed her head uncomfortably, embarrassment lighting her up instead, causing her skin to burn at the words she had just uttered. Why she said that, she did not know. Truly, the stallion before her was no great beauty himself, to her eyes, with the dull pelt and strange fins.

Despite that, Eponine could see his very presence. The strength of his soul, and it shone far brighter than any star she had ever seen in her life. And that, to her, was worth more than a thousand beautiful pelts.

Eponine sighed softly, closing her eyes sadly at Shetani's next words about sorrow.

"It is an unavoidable part of life," Eponine agreed quietly, her eyes distant, fixed upon a point on the horizon which only she could see. "But I think it is one of the most terrible punishments one could ever receive. No one should have to feel the crushing weight of sadness."

Eponine blinked, shaking herself out of her daze, and dragging a hoof tip through the soft soil in thought.

"You speak from experience, Sir,"
Eponine suddenly pointed out. "I do hope, if I may be so impertinent, that you will one day be able to cure this affliction and lead your life in happiness," she said genuinely, giving the stallion an encouraging smile.

She felt no such hope for herself, however, as the short conversation lead her to once again, be aware of the nagging edge of loneliness that gnawed at her. Once Shetani left to seek out better amusements, she was sure that it would come raging back in full force.

And Eponine was unsure of how she would weather this particular storm - and if she were even strong enough to attempt to.


(OOC: Phantom, I absolutely loved your post! I'm sorry, I don't think mine does yours justice haha <3 )
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PostSubject: Re: On My Own [OPEN]   Fri Mar 01 2013, 22:06

Primitive instincts were primal to them, in the sense that one only did that which he must to survive and compete with others of their species. After all, their selfish need to be a step above others was always present, even in those that rarely acknowledged it. Those that denied it were far more sick with the primal need to survive than those who understood the darkness that lives within them all. A natural need to do the wrong things circulates concurrently through every couple of neurons that synapse to make a complete thoughts within the mind. That function as a part of a whole, as a herd worked to keep all surviving and in excellent care from the earth.

So many complained of the violence that occurred in the terrains and between power-thirsty stags, yet they hardly looked at themselves and they habits they practiced. Many of them would see that they befell to that category if they studied their actions closely enough. Conquering another's quest for individuality in society was not being correct, which happened to be a difficult term to define as well.

There were a multitude of truths, and in truth, the lie was an opinion of their beliefs. Gathering of groups who think the same contributed to wars and the lust for power within one's own group; surely, those labeled 'dark' were characterized as being more blood-thirsty. But was not the acclaimed vampires call themselves calm, collected, and kind? They thirsted for blood just as a child of the swamp, with razor sharp incisors and canines that were evolved specifically for ripping and tearing flesh of victims. Poor them. It wasn't his pain, but the overall view on the issue of killing the innocent seemed to be seriously frowned upon in this community.

Deal with it. Is that what their kind usually said to a thriving community that would rather not be preyed upon? Obvious reasoning told him that most of the creatures in the world did not enjoy being preyed upon - but then, the excuse arose that the hunter must eat too. Was he not the hunter and others his prey?

Quite literally was the term 'hunter' used to describe him although he loathed the meaning the explanation that he was forced to give when the term was mentioned. So many stereotypical phrases derived from the sheer mention of a Kelpie. Not only were they swift within still waters...but the saliva that laid dormant in their mouth was poison to all it touched. Their ivories were as sharp as a knife...meant for destruction even more so than the flames of a hellion.

What a shame that his world just so happened to be tumbling down all around him, in all that he used to believe was correct was now false. A spirit walked beside him; a former part of himself had somehow escaped his form and haunted him from a distance, prompting every word, every action that he dare take. Every step. To be watched through the nights and days, sunsets, mornings, and moonlit swims through the deep-mud swamp. I'm sorry they would say when he described the turmoil within him. Why should they be sorry? They did nothing wrong. Perhaps, they were sorry that they had to hear his weeping.

You weep too much said his soul to him, knowing that he wept not through his pools of green but through the pores of his heart, from the very soul of him as dark as it may be.

When would the answers come to mind; the ones to the questions that plagued his mind? For so many years, he had lived in solitude, not daring to leave the woven web of his hidden secrets. Only the creatures of the veil of darkness would know of his secrets...and they would know not of the them all. Cryptic were the answers to the secrets that laid deep inside of him, the ones he dared not utter to a stranger. Nor a brother. Nor a son nor daughter. Not even to the creatures that also hunted meat of the swampy terrain.

The spirit that was no longer his was searching for something more than it already had. Power? It craved not the shock of power upon his subjects but something more to the core of him than a simple title. Surely, it much be a certain type of power that he longed for in his heart - a power to choose.

Liberty of heart.

Emotions within him danced like angels above the heavens, awaiting the death of a new soul to add to their collection. Only his eyes held guard to what was inside as he stood without a word to describe his features, without an expression to give an explanation to his silence. They needed not an explanation for their silences. They needed not a reason for the mistakes they made, as long as the same mistake was not committed twice.

Sometimes it was, and the last dance of emotions occurred as it had in so many others that perished to his death grip. Perhaps, the divines awaited them as well, but he didn't believe in fate or destiny. Creatures defined their own, and that was what he came here today to do. Define his own destiny.

Faintly, the waters laid singing before them, clear and open in what was below the surface. One could see the rocks, the fish, and the twigs all floating in one current - in one mix of objects. Within them, emotions were neither clear nor bright. All of them were of lonely thoughts, and surely, this fae could not take him seriously for a stag but for a coward. Little had he said to her, and of it, all had been blathering from his inside.

"I feel disgust at what I am though. Perhaps not at who I am, in particular, but surely, for what I am, truthfully," he murmured, turning his golden-green pools back to her sharply. They looked as if a light bulb went off inside of him, for his words were precise. He was not, in fact, disgusted with the personality that emerged in the inside, but the physical features that so many scorned at just the simple thought of him.

Tedious was the task of meeting others, just due to the simple look of him and what force he was capable of exerting on creatures. Whether they happened to be his followers or not, it didn't matter. Still, regardless of those followers he obtained, he still yearned for love in the tears that seared his heart and soul. Who could it be? This fae obviously saw nothing of him in the same light that he saw her. She was absolutely magnificent in this lighting, in this lighting particularly. Did she not see her true beauty? She did not kill. She did not feel lust for blood. She was simple. She was good. Simple was good.

Turning his skull away, he looked down to the water. "I'm sorry. I suppose I shouldn't speak such things about myself when most are attempting to be charming about now," he chuckled dryly, looking back to her for a moment painfully.

Loneliness was given to them for the horrors they had committed in her life, and some were punished even when wrongs were not committed. Sometimes, some were cursed to be alone when they were innocent of crime.

Some solitude was evident in youth, as many a young stag ran with a bachelor herd at one time or another. Someday, though, one notices being around many others who are constantly finding love is more depressing than actually being alone.

A constant reminder.

"I do not know if my state is curable, simply for what I am. Do you not know? I am a Kelpie. We are not trusted..." he said, his voice trailing off as he spoke the truth to her finally. There was variation in the truth, for not all hated their kind...but the ones who did, really hated Kelpies.

Looking back to her with a flash of emotion, he smiled a rare smile. "Some afflictions can only be cured if the correct individual is present to cure them. Otherwise, they are a useless, hopeless cause. I say that loosely, of course since at any time any given affliction can be cure. Even mine, perhaps, with time," he said, not feeling the immediate throb of solitude for once. Temporarily, the pang of hopelessness was gone, if only for a second. When she, too, left, it would immediately return...

Even when others were around, he was still...

Alone.
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