The morning had started just like every other, nothing new. She had started her day with a cup of coffee on the bed in the rented room of the inn. It was nice, but she wanted a place to put down real roots and have her own space. The thought had been plaguing the young mare for weeks now, the desire to belong and have a real home for the first time. The draw of her sister being close enough to see was nearly overwhelming at times, a part of her still struggling with the emotions of the past. There was still a simmering pool of rage under the cool efficiency that the mare worked with, a fear and hatred that none had really ever seen. Even Bella, who knew the ordeal and trauma from their pod. Those thoughts had pushed her from her bed and into the clinic where she could work beside her beloved mentor and let herself learn more and more.


That had been her morning, a start of pure chaos in her mind. Now that she was settled into her work, her thoughts cleared and the little mare was focused. Perhaps a little more focused than usual as she tried to erase the thoughts and emotions. It seemed like a haze settled over the world around her, making her a touch more careless than usual. A blade slipped from the table, opening a small wound on her shoulder. Or at least, she thought it did. A frown crossed her features as she glanced back to assess the damage and it was gone. What in the world? 


Shaking away the confusion, the little mare dove back into her work. Her mind was more settled, focusing on the patient that had just walked in. The young colt was swaying, clearly not feeling well. It was early, though she could smell the remnants of a night out. There was an underlying scent that she didn't recognize, but she shook her head and directed the colt to a treatment area where she could dive deeper into the mystery. 


She spoke to the colt, learning what she could both from his words and his body language. He had drunk way more than he should have, but there was something odd. Bits of memory that had disappeared from his recollection, moments of haze. Frowning, she started to take his vital signs and try to learn more from there. That was when she noticed it again. The scent that she had noticed when he came in. Something bitter. What seemed like a whisper in her mind urged her forward. “Look deeper.” Pol felt a spark within her, like a bit of light that was trying to direct her inward. There was an unease the clutched at the little mare, unknown happenings being something that freaked her out.


”I dont have magic… That is something Bel has.” She found herself murmuring, her voice nearly silent as she was examining the colt. ”Are you certain, daughter?” The inner voice asked again, though this time it was familiar. There was a tone, a cadence to the words that brought back thoughts of her past, of the pod… of her mother. The happy mare that had cherished her family. The mare that had protected her pup with her own life. 


”Mama?” Pol asked softly, startling the colt as he glanced back to see tears in her lavender eyes. The thought of her mother’s voice was overwhelming, making the little mare shake. Forcing herself to step away for a moment, she gathered her composure and took a few deep breaths. 


When she came back to the colt, she was more hesitant, yet curious. What was the voice pointing her toward? That spark seemed to flare as she stepped closer, the little mare nodding as she let the spark free. There was an almost sparkle to the blood as her mind seemed to swim in his veins. Then she caught the scent again. A small streak of sparkles caught her attention, the color emerald rather than crimson. Something that didn’t belong. It didn’t smell of alcohol, but rather more bitter and almost caustic in scent. A drug of some kind? The mare started to follow the streak, wishing she knew how to chase it from her patient’s blood. 


”Magic, my daughter. You are stronger than you think and can do much more.” The voice was encouraging. It seemed so odd to try to figure out what the voice meant. What her mother’s voice meant. Pol had a moment of wishing Bella was there to help her figure this out. Wishing Bella could tell her if she was truly hearing their mother’s voice. Was she going insane? Shaking the distracting thoughts away, she focused more strongly. That was when she heard the pained moan from her patient. Focusing too hard seemed to be uncomfortable to the colt. Pol pulled back a bit, enough that she was still following the odd streak, but not enough that she was asserting her dominance over the blood itself. 


”Whatever you are… You have no place in this colt.” Pol growled softly, her magic causing the crimson blood to become stronger than the taint. As she watched, the streak of emerald was overtaken and disappeared from the blood. Withdrawing, she swayed on her hooves. Pol leaned against a table for support as she spoke to the colt and gave him a few things that would help him to feel better. After a short conversation with Lu, Pol turned and padded out of the clinic.


The trip home was a mess, the little mare swaying and struggling to stay alert enough to walk. She paused here and there to catch her breath and balance, leaning against buildings as her legs shook. When she saw the inn in the distance, Pol let loose a soft gasp of relief. Each step seemed to be a workout, an eternity. But the stubborn healer refused to give in. She made it to the building, then to her room. Once inside, she locked the door and collapsed in the bed. Before another thought could cross her mind, a wave of warm blackness pulled her into sleep. A sleep that would last for two full days.

e had been careless.

Walking - or rather limping - to the Hospital in Terrastella, Benedict kept one leg up. While out searching for ore and minerals, he had stumbled and twisted his right front leg. That wasn't all; a vein of ore had stuck out, digging into his flesh. The man had winced but did not cry. He'd had worse done to him, that's for sure.

Managing to leave the mountain range behind, Benedict carried himself back to his Court. He had tended to the wound best he could so a trail of blood did not enter the border. A quick rummage of items he had with him was all it took to apply a gauze. He was no healer, but it was the best he could hope for.

"Hello?" he calls out now, the halls seemingly empty as he steps into the area. Maybe someone was here that could assist him properly? He would like the leg to be cleaned and sanitized for sure. "pardon the intrusion, but I have injured myself..."

x | x

image | coding

he lands of Novus were so foreign, so new. Different than what he had come to expect, but also familiar in some small way. He was here to find some type of new materials to work with; coin was becoming scarce as the autumn slowly turned to winter. Benedict needed more if he was to survive it. His 'shop' was more or less a roaming caravan - not a stable thing. 

He'd only been here since the beginning of autumn; these things took time anyway. He'd continue to learn, perhaps find a master crafter, and then open his own dwellings somewhere. The Courts were basically like four noble houses, and he did not feel limited to just Dusk. He could roam anywhere that wasn't currently warring with his 'home'. Benedict refused to call it a place of rest; only a temporary solitude from the rest of the world.

Novus was one step toward peace. One step toward something unfamiliar to him besides a land with a name. He sought... peace. He wanted peace. He desired it. Nosing along the beach, he bit back a sigh - most of the materials here had been picked clean. He shouldn't be surprised or disappointed. Raising his head from the ground, he spotted movement in the distance. It was coming toward him - but did it even want him?

"he speaks like this."

Fang has yet to venture from Denocte’s peninsula since his graceless arrival in Novus. Perhaps it is because he clings desperately to what he knows, but he would not say he is particularly familiar with this place—not yet. Still, for whatever reason, he hesitates exploring past its borders.

The large stallion finds himself perched at the precipice of a mountain, leathery wings hovering at his sides, their lengths half outstretched with muscles poised to thrust him into the skies. But his hooves are grounded, tethered to the cool stone beneath his feet. He can feel his heart beating in his throat, encouraging and pushing him right to the edge—just one step—but it is a rhythm that builds and builds and builds without ever reaching its climax. He cannot say how long it is that he stands there, unmoving, before he finally resigns himself to his reluctance.

As if a heavy blanket is draped over him, Fang relaxes his posture. His rounded ears flick backwards, wings tuck in against his flanks, and his head slowly falls in line with his shoulders. The embers of his eyes trail behind him, taking in the sight of the prairie that sprawls out below the mountain range, its grasses painted gold beneath the sun, and the vast lake whose surface glitters like a polished mirror. It is beautiful here, but it is not home. I miss you, his heart cries—lamenting the death of his revered goddess, mourning the destruction of his people’s empire, and grieving the loss of his companion.

Home is gone, he reminds himself.
It still hurts.

(Oh how it hurts!)

Wishing the sorrow away, the red stallion grows restless beneath the weight of his grief. He strides forward, his steps heavier than usual, pressing against the rock and gravel that shift beneath him. The path is precarious—he could take flight, but he doesn’t. There is something about choosing to walk through these craggy stones that feels too fitting.


tag; @Ciaran  
“…”

run away with me