May the flowers remind us why the rain was necessary
Oh, little sparrow, you just can't seem to keep those little hooves planted on the ground.
It wasn't that long ago that Mother had ushered you into Helovia. It was that beautiful promised land, a haven of flowers and warmth and a promising future, that had set you both on that pigrimage. She had told you stories of its sanctuary, of its sweeping valleys and arching hills, of the endless blue of the sky, of its countless stars. She told you how it would be home. At the time you never knew how it would welcome you with loss, how it would snuff out Mother's light in a single breathless moment. But it couldn't dull the bright amber gold of your eyes, how you saw beauty in all that which the light of day touched, found comfort in the pallid light of the moon. But from your loss, new love flourished as the Constrictor took you in. You found yourself loving Ktulu as any child would love a mother, and your need for her protection fostered something that many never find again after the loss of a parent. And though she may have seemed cold, impatient, rough around her own broken edges, you knew that she must have grown fond of you as well.
But sometimes promises are empty, and though Mother knew not what she was delivering you to, Helovia had already been claimed. Darkness had breached the light, and had consumed all that had been granted. A terrible force had struck down the gods, ripped open a great portal, and again another promise was given to you as you were pushed through.
”I’ll see you on the other side.”
And with that you fell away, the air sucked out of your lungs, your wings flapping feebly, your companion clinging to the softness of your mane. And with that, the world ended.
--------
Unf!
For a moment, she just lays there. She is a mound of tangled wings, lanky legs, and ruffled mane. Small feathers, light as a breath of fresh air, slowly float to the ground, ripped from her as she had tumbled through the void. Her sides betray her broken form, their gentle and steady rise and fall giving proof that she's still alive.
She may not know much, but one thing she can be sure of, is that being alive is much better than being dead.
Awareness slowly seeps back into her mind as she comes to. An ear flicks and pivots, and nostrils flare as they sip in the fresh air. The atmosphere seems empty, light, so light, compared to the scene she had just exited. Death, fear, the acrid stench of smoke and dark magic. For minutes after, the stench clings to her nose as her lungs try to replace it with clean air. It's amazing, really, how loud silence can be when it follows such cataclysmic sound.
Slowly her eyes open, and she tries to blink away the bright flashes of teal light that had blinded her golden gaze just moments ago. She notices the pale sunlight, notes that it may be late day, and takes a moment to let the warmth of the dying afternoon warm her weary muscles. The grass beneath her is cool, and though she wishes to lay for just a little longer, something inside her persuades her to move, to stand, to collect her bearings, to notice how so much isn't right.
She groans as she lifts herself up onto shaky legs. Each wing is extended, shaken, and she counts to be sure they're all there. She reaches slowly towards a wing joint to learn a few misplaced feathers, and notices a deep scratch into her fur.
Grim.
An intense twist of nausea swells in her gut, and she nearly wretches. The genet's mind, who's incessant grumpy chatter has filled her mind since the moment they bonded, is lost to her. His absence from her soul is nearly painful, and tears spring to her eyes. "Gr-Gremlin?" She whispers his full name into the open air, hoping he may emerge from any shadow or crawl out from any hole. "Grim, please don't be gone." But she shouldn't cry. No, Tootaloo wouldn't want that. Ktulu. ”Shit,” she coughs through her teeth, the sound choked by her constricting throat. The curse, which she learned from the older mare, is a clear indicator that she is realizing what is happening. Which isobviously way too much to all happen in one day. First, like so many people died, and now the two closest to her (three if you include Eytan, the bear companion to Ktulu, who she had come to love as well) have simply vanished. Had the portal thrown them somewhere different entirely? Was she alone again?
No. She needs to put her big filly pants on and start moving in the right direction. The last time she had a breakdown was when Mother had died, and Ktulu had called her stupid for refusing to stand and live, since all she wanted in that moment was to fade away like her mother had. So today she would brush off the dust, move forward, and survive. She refuses to be a victim, refuses to become dinner to any predators that may call this place home.
So, on lanky legs, she begins to march forward. Then she stops. Turning around, again she proceeds forward with proud purpose, before stopping again. Scowling, she claps her wings against her sides, and looks around.
It's hard to move towards the future, when you have no idea where the future lives.
It wasn't that long ago that Mother had ushered you into Helovia. It was that beautiful promised land, a haven of flowers and warmth and a promising future, that had set you both on that pigrimage. She had told you stories of its sanctuary, of its sweeping valleys and arching hills, of the endless blue of the sky, of its countless stars. She told you how it would be home. At the time you never knew how it would welcome you with loss, how it would snuff out Mother's light in a single breathless moment. But it couldn't dull the bright amber gold of your eyes, how you saw beauty in all that which the light of day touched, found comfort in the pallid light of the moon. But from your loss, new love flourished as the Constrictor took you in. You found yourself loving Ktulu as any child would love a mother, and your need for her protection fostered something that many never find again after the loss of a parent. And though she may have seemed cold, impatient, rough around her own broken edges, you knew that she must have grown fond of you as well.
But sometimes promises are empty, and though Mother knew not what she was delivering you to, Helovia had already been claimed. Darkness had breached the light, and had consumed all that had been granted. A terrible force had struck down the gods, ripped open a great portal, and again another promise was given to you as you were pushed through.
”I’ll see you on the other side.”
And with that you fell away, the air sucked out of your lungs, your wings flapping feebly, your companion clinging to the softness of your mane. And with that, the world ended.
--------
Unf!
For a moment, she just lays there. She is a mound of tangled wings, lanky legs, and ruffled mane. Small feathers, light as a breath of fresh air, slowly float to the ground, ripped from her as she had tumbled through the void. Her sides betray her broken form, their gentle and steady rise and fall giving proof that she's still alive.
She may not know much, but one thing she can be sure of, is that being alive is much better than being dead.
Awareness slowly seeps back into her mind as she comes to. An ear flicks and pivots, and nostrils flare as they sip in the fresh air. The atmosphere seems empty, light, so light, compared to the scene she had just exited. Death, fear, the acrid stench of smoke and dark magic. For minutes after, the stench clings to her nose as her lungs try to replace it with clean air. It's amazing, really, how loud silence can be when it follows such cataclysmic sound.
Slowly her eyes open, and she tries to blink away the bright flashes of teal light that had blinded her golden gaze just moments ago. She notices the pale sunlight, notes that it may be late day, and takes a moment to let the warmth of the dying afternoon warm her weary muscles. The grass beneath her is cool, and though she wishes to lay for just a little longer, something inside her persuades her to move, to stand, to collect her bearings, to notice how so much isn't right.
She groans as she lifts herself up onto shaky legs. Each wing is extended, shaken, and she counts to be sure they're all there. She reaches slowly towards a wing joint to learn a few misplaced feathers, and notices a deep scratch into her fur.
Grim.
An intense twist of nausea swells in her gut, and she nearly wretches. The genet's mind, who's incessant grumpy chatter has filled her mind since the moment they bonded, is lost to her. His absence from her soul is nearly painful, and tears spring to her eyes. "Gr-Gremlin?" She whispers his full name into the open air, hoping he may emerge from any shadow or crawl out from any hole. "Grim, please don't be gone." But she shouldn't cry. No, Tootaloo wouldn't want that. Ktulu. ”Shit,” she coughs through her teeth, the sound choked by her constricting throat. The curse, which she learned from the older mare, is a clear indicator that she is realizing what is happening. Which is
No. She needs to put her big filly pants on and start moving in the right direction. The last time she had a breakdown was when Mother had died, and Ktulu had called her stupid for refusing to stand and live, since all she wanted in that moment was to fade away like her mother had. So today she would brush off the dust, move forward, and survive. She refuses to be a victim, refuses to become dinner to any predators that may call this place home.
So, on lanky legs, she begins to march forward. Then she stops. Turning around, again she proceeds forward with proud purpose, before stopping again. Scowling, she claps her wings against her sides, and looks around.
It's hard to move towards the future, when you have no idea where the future lives.
