The blue-black stallion sought respite from the heat of day, climbing to the heavens in search of fresher air. It wasn’t that the salt and sand of Solterra were distasteful to him – for in truth, Voltaire had long forgotten what it felt like to have something for his own pleasure and comfort. It was a place to live, plain and simple. He would serve the kingdom, because it was his duty to serve. He would heal their sick and wounded, because it was the least he could do to atone for his own sins. But he had long punished himself to the point where he could not remember what it felt like, to feel.
Still, he understood the feeling of being sticky and uncomfortable, so as he climbed the mountain, his mood became clearer and the wind was a welcome distraction from the heat. Nearing the top, his sweat stained coat shivered in the chill, a welcome change from the summer heat. And he looked around in this place of worship – knowing he was unworthy, knowing more than ever how small and insignificant his own life was as he looked down on the world that they had created, finding Solterra – red and gold against a sea of green life. Everything seemed much more in perspective from here, the least of which how little he mattered in the grand scheme.
Turning from the cliff’s edge, he found his way to the altar of Solis, seeking the one that Eden had spoken of. He would not ask for forgiveness, or even the consideration of this god – but he knew that he needed to pay his respects and show his deference to the deity which led this place where he now lived. It would not due for his cursed life to take another turn toward darkness… and he would do whatever he could to stay in the good graces of the Sun God.
He bowed his head, tipping it to the point where the jagged tip of his horn nearly brushed against the dirt at the statue’s feet, and he closed his eyes to reflect. He didn’t expect for an answer persay, as he’d gone so long in his life without the favor of the gods. But it was duty that kept him here, duty that brought him peace. Sighing to the quiet mountain, he wondered if he was even worthy to stand in this place, praying hopefully to gods he had yet to know. Would they shun him, turn him away… perhaps they would punish such a sinner for standing in their midst.
His mind was a cloud of troubled thoughts, and his lips pursed as if thinking through the consequences. Voltaire had come to this place seeking forgiveness, but if he couldn’t forgive himself, what hope did he have at deserving such things (and from the merciless sun god, of all creatures). Looking around, his ice blue eyes blinked against the ever-watching sun, a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach… for he knew the god of day saw through the flimsy mask he wore, and he knew Solterra would know him as he was.
The silver girl-child knew self-punishment all too well. She knew the emotions that went with it…the desire to be free of it, but being unable because you feel your punishment is not harsh enough; not long enough; not “done” enough to pay for what you’ve done. But she was not one of the lucky ones. She did not go numb from the stress. Instead, it consumed her, making her into a wreck of nerves and fear, uncertainty and worry. To go numb would be a welcome relief; but perhaps that would make her everything she was not…she would lose all that she is. That just wouldn’t do.
She had been on the mountain searching for answers, for miracles. She was searching desperately for something she knew she could never have again. Her dead best friend. He had been burned when Fantome set their home on fire…returning to look for her; but she was not there. Locked away in a magical coma that did not allow her to mentally grow, or to tell anyone she was alive; she was in the land in-between the living and the dead. He searched for her, was burned by a falling branch, seared and cooked while he screamed in pain. But he was able to get free. He found a new herd, and with his dying words, demanded that they tell her how much he loved her.
She never had the chance to do the same. She was in love with him. From the moment she met him, a tiny child trying to push her away from his mother; she loved him. Their adventures, their games, their stories. She loved each and every moment of it. But now it was gone. She wanted to ask Oriens to bring her friend back; to let her at least tell him how she felt. It was all she had wanted from the moment she learned of his death.
Hooves clattering nearby made the silver child hide in the trees; as hidden as a girl made of silver and black can do. She saw him approach an altar and drop his head. Certainly he had miracles he wanted, too, for why else would you come all the way up here? She stood where she was – hidden – and her tiny voice rang out to him. ”What miracles do you seek?” Perhaps he would think her a disembodied voice, or perhaps he would see her. The filly didn’t know, but either prospect scared her.
You see, Coraline is mentally but a yearling, thanks to the magical coma she was in. Her body is matured as a three year old, but she hadn’t been able to grow mentally while she slumbered. As a child with an awful past, she fears everything, convinced everything is a monster out to eat her. She has much growing and learning to do. So, in her mind, he was going to kill her, too; but she had learned that she would rather face it than to run away scared. Worse than him trying to eat her…what if he actually thought she was one of the gods? She could no more grant wishes than sprout wings from her ears. She shuddered at the thought.
She stared at him through the trees with her button eyes and waited.
Quietly, the stallion stood among the relics of the Day Court, knowing that he must atone for his sins. Alone, he could do nothing more than pay homage to a god he’d yet to know… and yet it is duty that drives Voltaire forward to the shrine. It is duty that keeps him here, praying to the unknown god of the Day Court, hoping for some sort of reprieve from the pain and suffering in his life. Though the sinner knows he doesn’t deserve it, there is something in him that wants just a piece of freedom from his own inner turmoil. As he stands solitarily on the rock, he wants nothing more than to fade into the oblivion of this place, unnoticed as he goes about his ways.
But, life had other plans.
Even as he stood in the quiet, there is a noise behind him. For a moment, Voltaire wants to ignore it and carry on as he had been… but then he hears the voice – a child’s voice and question. Though he is too old to believe in such things as miracles, he turns to answer the girl, but instead finds a young mare… far too old to believe in such things herself. He quirks a brow as he regards the silver button-eyed female, wondering if she really knew the horrors life had to bring, or if she was truly as innocent as she seemed. For a moment, he simply stood and watched her, as if deciding whether or not to answer her honestly… but with a sigh, the denim blue stallion offers something of a response.
”There are no miracles left for me in this world.” And his sullen face grows a shade darker, for shame drew a defeated sort of look to Voltaire. Here, on the sacred mount of the gods, he could do little more than be honest. And honesty bore the terrible truth for him – that his life would only continue to be a series of atoning tasks… there was little more left for the Day Court caretaker than that.
She watched him, curious as to whether or not he would answer her. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Or maybe he was mute, like Mew. Or maybe still, he didn’t speak her language. She shifted from hoof to hoof while waiting. No, my dear, she knows all too well the horrors life has in store for those who were once innocent. She had lived through many of them in her short few years, yet she strives to hold onto the magic that envelops the youth; that makes them see mermaids and fairy-tales. For without it, she knows that she will crumble away and be lost to the world forever.
When he speaks, his words are sad, and the woman-girl stares for another moment, unsure how to handle it. What would any other grown up do? Her nose wrinkles in concentration, but in the end, all she can do is take a tiny step forward and reach out her muzzle in an attempt to brush it against his shoulder. She exhales softly, a breath of dreams and sunflowers, for that is what the girl is made of, I am sure of it. She is made of dreams and happiness, and all she can hope to do is uplift the world a little at a time. It offsets the darkness she has endured.
She looked up at him, into his dark eyes, and she knew what he was feeling – it was the same thing when Mew died. She had walked around broken, trying to do good deeds to bring him back; but that was not the way the world worked. But still, she had tried, and perhaps…perhaps she is still trying to find forgiveness for it. The silver child looks at him and feels a strange connection. They were the same, no matter how different.
”That can’t be true. There are miracles every day. Like the sun rising, and flowers blooming, and rain on a hot day.” She was struggling to find “grown up” things to say, so reverted to the things she knew. ”Like the time when something awful should have happened to you, but you were saved at just the right moment. I had that happen – a siren tried to drown me, but my friend showed up and scared her away. Miracles are everywhere.” She was almost speaking in earnest, trying to get him to believe. She didn’t want him to be sad; to hurt. She didn’t even know his name, but she knew his pain. She knew the burden of guilt.
Softly, she responded to his sadness: ”Can I help you?” It was so quietly spoken, if he wasn’t paying attention, he may question if she even spoke at all, but if he looked at her, he would see the hopeful look in her button eyes, a true desire to help someone who was wounded, whether emotionally or physically. She wanted to do something good.
Voltaire would give anything to be young again – to go back in time to that fateful day and choose a different path. But now, his destiny was set in stone. As he looked to the optimistic girl, he remembers what it is like to be young and idealistic. He remembers what it is like to know the world is a bright and wonderous thing, full of possibilities. Though his hope was long shattered by his actions, it wouldn’t do to taint the youth of tomorrow. Perhaps this girl would make something worthy of herself, something worthy of the gods adoration and blessings. He offered her a quiet smile, stepping closer to place his velvetine muzzle gently against the curve of her neck.
”Perhaps today you have given me my miracle – a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dire world. There can be no forgiveness for me, child – for I bear the consequences of the choices I made long ago. But for you, there is a light, and I hope you do not lose it. Solis give you blessings, and reason beyond that anger that blinded me in my youth.”
If someone had given him the advice long ago, maybe he wouldn’t have done what he’d done. Perhaps he wouldn’t be living a cursed life – a half life – filled with penance for his actions. ”Thank you, child. Solis watch over you.” He paused for a moment, staring at the silver girl as sunlight soaked into her coat, wishing her peace as he nodded and returned to the Day Court, far from this place of worship and the reminders of the bitter taint of his childhood.
Day Court Caretaker
@Coraline – wrapping this one up bc I have lots on my plate and don’t want to miss the window to redo another worship thread with him in a few weeks… but lets post again – if you want to post in the Viride Forest, he’s gonna wander over and start looking for healing herbs… maybe they can search together (and I can bring Pan in too)
The filly listened to his words, a smile creeping to her face as she felt maybe she had done something good. He still felt sad to her, but she also knew that she could not fix everything – all she could do was be there and offer a shoulder, should that be what he wants. At his touch, she felt herself moving slightly closer. How long had it been since someone had been so kind to her? Her own muzzle reached up to lip at his mane in a mostly playful manner. And just like that, they had separated. He was speaking again, and she nodded sagely. She wasn’t sure what light he was talking about (for she had never been told she had one!) but decided that she would do whatever she could to keep it going. If that’s what made others feel happy, that’s what she would do!
”And blessings to you too.” She felt silly saying it – she didn’t know who Solis was, or what sort of blessings he could offer. Maybe he was only there for fillies; or for strangers. She didn’t know. But it felt right to say it, even if it felt strange. She watched him go, a distinct sadness washing over her. She seemed to be saying an awful lot of “goodbyes” lately; but then, if you didn’t say goodbye, you couldn’t ever say ‘hello’ again. So, pushing away the sadness and letting the small happiness well back up in her breast, the filly began her own journey down the mountain toward her own herd. Maybe it was time to sign up for a job – she wanted to help others, no matter how she was able to do it…it’s what she desired above all.
With a whispered prayer to whatever god was watching over this place, she wound her way toward home.
