G A R E T H
The cool air of the mountains made the stallion feel alive again. Though winter would soon be upon them again, the last vestiges of fall still kept the atmosphere warm and pleasant as he went about his work. Gareth had been a sour beast when last he came from his second home, and he had been harsh to Luvena. It was not his nature to be so terse with women, or with others in general, and she had not deserved his curt tongue. He had been speaking from a place of hurt, pain that had grown heavy in his chest and had cracked him open.
After the year he had spent in his cabin, mulling and licking his own wounds - the heart always takes so long to heal, and always longer than one believes it will- he was finally feeling something of himself again. She deserved an apology and an offering to make things right. Short of an olive branch, the best he could do would be to gather her medicinal supplies she may have needed. While the woman was strong, there was no question about that in his mind, there were simply ingredients that required more time in the wilderness to coax into one’s bag. She would be appreciative, and hopefully forgive him his behaviour.
He had taken the time to heal himself, after all, and coming out of his shell was an even more warm and genuine man. A man who was seeking to establish his place firmly within the world and with the people in it. The thought of making himself useful to Luvena, and in turn the denizens of the Night Court filled him with a love and appreciation that had been missing in his life. It warmed him in a way that he had not felt in a long time. In the same way that she had.
As if conjured by the mere thought of her, there she was. Magic it was, the way the full moon reflected on her dark coat, illuminating the features he had loved so much. But she was far more gaunt than he remembered. Salome had always been a petite figure, and perhaps it was that delicateness that had always bred in him the desire to protect her. There was no delicateness to her now. She was frail, but in a distinctly predatory way. The way she held herself spoke loudly to any creature that she was a huntress to be wary of, to fear.
There was no fear to be found in his gaze, though. Pain. Unadulterated pain filled his being and the facade of health he had built around his heart absolutely shattered. The brute wept openly, tears clouding his vision perhaps in an attempt to wipe away the visage of love like a mirage before him. They did him little good. The tears choked his throat and twisted his gut and they came so freely. A river of tears, a torrent. All of the hurt that he had kept to himself over the years came forward in a rush and there was no stopping what had begun. The years of loving her secretly, of thinking her gone, of being abandoned a second time with so many questions in his mind and on his heart.
Yet, here she was. Plain as any night blooming flower brought to its full beauty by the moon. And beauty had always become Salome, even now, tinged with danger though it was. His instincts were sharp, and Gareth had always been an admittedly superstitious boy. He knew without having to know exactly what she was. Somehow it didn’t matter to him if she was, indeed, a bloodlusting night beast come to finally whisk away his soul to an eternal darkness. She was here now, in a space that had been empty for far too long.
“Why?” It was the only thing he could manage to wrestle free from the knot that tied his tongue. It was a broken word that felt like shards of glass as it hung in the air. There was no anger, no spite. He could never be angry with her, not this mare he had known and loved and cherished. But the rawness left open like a burn that could not heal, that awful pain came from him in waves. It somehow made his massive frame seem so very small, dwarfed by this feeling that cascaded the expanse between them.
The question remained in the air, the only clear thought he could bring to truth. If Noor had been with him, he would have leaned on the elk for support. But of course she would come when his only friend had taken time away. Of course she would appear when the whole thing could be a fever dream written away as fiction of a broken heart.
He had thought himself healed. How very wrong he had been.
He was agony in the shape of a man.
After the year he had spent in his cabin, mulling and licking his own wounds - the heart always takes so long to heal, and always longer than one believes it will- he was finally feeling something of himself again. She deserved an apology and an offering to make things right. Short of an olive branch, the best he could do would be to gather her medicinal supplies she may have needed. While the woman was strong, there was no question about that in his mind, there were simply ingredients that required more time in the wilderness to coax into one’s bag. She would be appreciative, and hopefully forgive him his behaviour.
He had taken the time to heal himself, after all, and coming out of his shell was an even more warm and genuine man. A man who was seeking to establish his place firmly within the world and with the people in it. The thought of making himself useful to Luvena, and in turn the denizens of the Night Court filled him with a love and appreciation that had been missing in his life. It warmed him in a way that he had not felt in a long time. In the same way that she had.
As if conjured by the mere thought of her, there she was. Magic it was, the way the full moon reflected on her dark coat, illuminating the features he had loved so much. But she was far more gaunt than he remembered. Salome had always been a petite figure, and perhaps it was that delicateness that had always bred in him the desire to protect her. There was no delicateness to her now. She was frail, but in a distinctly predatory way. The way she held herself spoke loudly to any creature that she was a huntress to be wary of, to fear.
There was no fear to be found in his gaze, though. Pain. Unadulterated pain filled his being and the facade of health he had built around his heart absolutely shattered. The brute wept openly, tears clouding his vision perhaps in an attempt to wipe away the visage of love like a mirage before him. They did him little good. The tears choked his throat and twisted his gut and they came so freely. A river of tears, a torrent. All of the hurt that he had kept to himself over the years came forward in a rush and there was no stopping what had begun. The years of loving her secretly, of thinking her gone, of being abandoned a second time with so many questions in his mind and on his heart.
Yet, here she was. Plain as any night blooming flower brought to its full beauty by the moon. And beauty had always become Salome, even now, tinged with danger though it was. His instincts were sharp, and Gareth had always been an admittedly superstitious boy. He knew without having to know exactly what she was. Somehow it didn’t matter to him if she was, indeed, a bloodlusting night beast come to finally whisk away his soul to an eternal darkness. She was here now, in a space that had been empty for far too long.
“Why?” It was the only thing he could manage to wrestle free from the knot that tied his tongue. It was a broken word that felt like shards of glass as it hung in the air. There was no anger, no spite. He could never be angry with her, not this mare he had known and loved and cherished. But the rawness left open like a burn that could not heal, that awful pain came from him in waves. It somehow made his massive frame seem so very small, dwarfed by this feeling that cascaded the expanse between them.
The question remained in the air, the only clear thought he could bring to truth. If Noor had been with him, he would have leaned on the elk for support. But of course she would come when his only friend had taken time away. Of course she would appear when the whole thing could be a fever dream written away as fiction of a broken heart.
He had thought himself healed. How very wrong he had been.
He was agony in the shape of a man.
"Speech" | @Salome | You're welcome ?
