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Lightbringer
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Yvaine 10 Years Old | Mare | Deputy Mare | Mentions: Atolos,Inessa , Biscotti, Reima, and those there. Yvaine was annoyed to say the least. The shouting going on and not to mention the words flying out of the mares mouths. God, it was giving her a headache. Her eye twitched slightly as Reima defended her mother against Morrigan, and that's when it all went spiraling downward. Lorcan was clearly suffocating and his Cadlha, god bless her, wasn't helping - Yvaine was about to say something but Adela moved swifter and took Lorcan and Morrigan away, Morrigan looked ready to drive someone's head into the ground but she listened to her Aunt but not before glaring daggers at Biscotti, completely ignoring the words of Reima. The female sent the older mare an appreciative look. Before turning back to glare at Reima saying, "Mind your words and manners filly. Don't you see she's obviously hurt, just as you feel the need to protect your mother if insulted - how do you think Morrigan and Lorcan feel? Who wouldn't be angry if someone insulted their mother who recently passed, this isn't a decades old wound but one fresh and sensitive- and your mother had the gall to pick at it like it's nothing? Reima, if your mother were dead wouldn't you want to pummel someone if they spoke of her in an ill manner? I know you weren't offended by Lorcan but I would suggest staying quiet so this doesn't have to get any worse." She looked at Biscotti who said the words she spoke to Lorcan with a certain boldness in her tone and she scoffed a bit, " You said that over a small squabble between yearlings? Those two have been making remarks at each other much worse since they were foals - and now you chose to say such words at a time like this? Not only do those words insult Sunna and Lorcan, insulting Lorcan is like insulting Atolos himself, that is his son, and you insulted his son and dead mate - those words were very loaded and poorly thought out." The female turned her head at the sound of hoof steps approaching, it was Atolos, "Fuckin' hell..." the female whispered under her breath, only people close to her could hear her swear. Then he asked what was going on. She took a deep breath before she spoke. "Hello Atolos, apologies for interrupting your day. The matter was brought to my attention when Inessa came to get me. Biscotti was just telling me what she told your son, and she said these words and I quote "Now. What would your dear mother say about that? I thought she at least had some sense in that head of hers to at least raise one foal right if not all."' Over a small comment your son spoke to Reima, and the filly wasn't offended by the comment - quite on the contrary she was happy but her mother said those crass words in front of an audience. Adela came to Lorcan's aid before Inessa came and informed me. Morrigan shot a few venomous words defending her mother and brother , Biscotti bit back, and Reima shot some words at Morrigan. Your son was panicking because they were insufferable and then Adela took Morrigan and Lorcan away to de-escalate the situation. I was now just telling Biscotti how loaded her words were." She pitied the poor mare, because just as a mare was protective of their foal so was a stallion and she had just made a seriously wrong move. |
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Darkseeker
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Atolos
Stallion | 10 Years | Lead Stallion | Mentions: Yvaine, Biscotti, Reima, More [Im lazy]
The greyed stallion listened quietly as Yvaine spoke, his face remaining relatively impassive as he did. At first, it would be hard to see the engulfing fire of rage simmering just beneath the surface, the only cue to it was the way his eyes darkened before hardening in their expression.
The words, the words that Yvaine spoke to him on the behalf of Biscotti both simultaneously crushed his heart, and poured acid into his veins. The stallion's flesh visible rippled beneath his coat like a wave down his body as his muscles released and contracted, tensing up further than they were before. His nostrils flared angrily as he exhaled loudly, and then sucked in a breath. He couldn't even contain the front hoof that slammed into the ground with seemingly enough force to crack it where he stood.
"I see," his voice crackled like thunder, thick and roiling with untold emotions, the clearest of them was pure, unadultered fury. He shook out his mane, physically trying to shake the negative emotions off, and lifted it to bare his gaze down on the shorter mares around him.
"I see."
The repeated words came out colder now, as if the summer drought had been swallowed by the dead of winter, his voice gaining it's strength back as he glared at those before him. Finally his gaze snapped to Biscotti and an emotion, almost hatred, could be seen etched into the rugged features of his face.
"I know you are deputy mare of this herd, Yvaine, and I respect Sunna's, my deceased mate, in her decision of that. However, I will be taking over the punishment for this situation," his words were sharp, but anger wasn't directed towards the deputy mare in this situation. It was a raw deal she had been given for the moment.
He paused for a moment, allowing the tension to impregnate the air around them. It was tangible, really, almost as if it could be cut with a butter knife, and Atolos was content to let it hang there for several heart beats before speaking again.
"Biscotti," his tone, while calm, was edged, "I expect these sort of back handed comments from foals and yearlings, creatures who are immature in their youth and don't know any better. But from an adult mare? Especially to make a comment about someone who can't even be here to defend herself? I would never had thought anyone could be so low." Atolos did not shout, he did not yell, as he spoke, instead his voice remain cold and low, barely above as whisper.
"Respect," he snorted as he spoke the word, "is something every adult mare should know. Clearly it was never bestowed upon you as a yearling, and obviously your repeating the pattern with your own daughter. A pity, really," he growled slightly at the end, enunciating the words. "Since you wish to insult my beloved mate as a way to harm a child, I think it's only fitting that your punishment be dolled out to both you, and your daughter."
His shifted his weight a bit, head turning to glance at Reima. "You both will now eat last whenever food is found. Whatever is left for you, will be decided upon the herd. And since we can only be as strong as our weakest link, Biscotti," he turned his full attention back onto the painted mare, "you will travel at the back of the herd, and behind it. Minimum of 10 paces, if not more. You wil no longer seek the shelter or comfort of the herd, since you have no respect for it or it's members. You daughter will not join you, she can remain by her father's side, or one of the other mares. Perhaps they can teach her what you cannot."
He ended his words, and the look upon his features was clear he was leaving no room for argument. Instead, he turned, intent on putting distance between him and the blasphemous mare. "If nothing else, perhaps your purpose will be to keep the hungry predators off our throats, as they'll be too busy with you," he knew they were harsh words, but Atolos didn't particularly regret them. Sunna wouldn't have approved of it's harshness, but as it had been so horribly pointed out to him, she wasn't here to change his mind.
"Reima's punishment will last 2 weeks maximum, if she presents herself as a respectable young mare during that time, I will reduce it. However, Biscotti?" He pasued to look back at the mare. "Yours will be until I see it's fit for you to rejoin our ranks." |
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Neutral
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Biscotti Mare || 5 Years || Herd Mare || Mentions: Atolos, Reima Mares (ind.) About to respond to the deputies words, Biscotti opened her mouth, and uttered only a few words, "I will-" however she was interrupted, and stopped as she heard the single walking hoof beats of a large stallion making his way over to the group of mares. Atolos. Oh shit. The deputy had told the lead stallion of what Biscotti had said earlier, she did not move, she did not speak. She kept her gaze on the Deputy and Lead, watching closely at the stallion. She imagined him to be more angry, to be more forward, however, he seemed to be calm, and dead silent. That is what scared the herd mare even more. Slowly, the mare took a step forward in front of her daughter, keeping her gaze upon the two horses, but as Atolos spoke, her eyes shifted to him, and him only. Repeating himself, and the painted mare almost took a deep breath in only to see the Stallions head snap in her direction, his expression full of hatred for her. And he decided he would be the one who would decide Biscotti's punishment. Frantically, for a split second, the mare had a horrid gut feeling he would cast her from the herd, just for saying a few words to his son- she did not pan this out correctly this time around. Shit, shit. Her heart was quiet aloud, however, inside, she could hear it beating loud and clearly, her legs stiff, her eyes emotionless. She couldn't show fear, she refused to, however, the stillness of her body was surely an obvious act of fear. "Biscotti." As Atolos went on, her ears slowly fell back, not because of anger, or annoyance, but because she had a feeling as to where this was going. She was no longer holding her head high anymore, she held it, just above her shoulders high, swallowing quietly. However, when he spoke of punishing both her and Reima, her head jolted upwards slightly, and she began to speak, "My daughter has not-" she stopped herself, knowing it would be a terrible idea to talk back against the lead stallion. Last to eat. Last to move. No shelter nor comfort. As if it was anything different from before. Well, besides, the last to eat and move.. and shelter. But comfort? What was the point of acknowledging that. She didn't care for any horse in this herd besides her daughter, let alone did they care about her. It was truly pointless to add it on, but fine. Might as well be food for the pred- yup. There he goes. "Reima's punishment will last 2 weeks maximum, if she presents herself as a respectable young mare during that time, I will reduce it. However, Biscotti? Yours will be until I see it's fit for you to rejoin our ranks." The mare had a sense of relief that her daughter didn't have to suffer as long as Biscotti would, however, she had a feeling Atolos would never allow her to rejoin the ranks. Never. Even if she had an attitude adjustment, it would never happen. All she could do, was be food for the coyotes, and prepare her daughter for the harsh journey ahead. Snorting quietly, to herself, Biscotti could only nod. "Fine." However, the mare couldn't let one little thing slide, "My daughter? If you will not let her by my side, you make sure she stays safe," she picked up her head, staring Atolos in the eyes. Yes. This was not a wise act to do in the least, but the least she could do, the best of her motherly-ish efforts, would argue for her daughters safety. "You keep my daughter safe within the herd, just as you would any other yearling. She may be the daughter of the bitch ass Biscotti, but she deserves as much safety and food. I will be the last to eat, no complaints. However, my daughter will not be one to eat beside me last. She will eat, when your yearlings eat. She will drink, when your yearlings drink." "She will not be an option for the coyotes dinner meal." |
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Darkseeker
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Atolos
Stallion | 10 Years | Lead Stallion | Mentions: Biscotti, Reima, Yvaine
The stallion should have known there would be disagreement over his punishment, and he had expected it. Completely. A stallion, yes. A fool? Perhaps, but maybe not. He didn't have time to be a fool, to question his decisions, and give in to the worry of mares. It just wasn't something he could do anymore.
He met her gaze, steeling his own and flicked his ears disinterestly as she spoke. Of course she would fight for her daughter, any mare would, but he would not budge. She would learn, they both would, that acting in such a way came with consequences. He was also certain that one of the only ways to get through to Biscotti might be her daughter.
"My decision is final, and it stands. Reima's punishment will be as I said, and for two weeks," he reiterated, though his voice didn't raise. "After all, it isn't your decision anymore, Biscotti. And if you continue to push me, I will merely extend it further. Right now, all your doing is making things worse for you."
He turned more then, pinning her with a glare that was a promise of death in it's coldness. "Have some grace, Biscotti," he growled, the words meant as an insult. He could get his jabs in too.
Finally he turned to the Deputy mare, appraising her briefly before speaking again. "Reima will get the protection of the herd, she can stay with the mares or her father. However, my punishment stands. If I find out it isn't being carried out, have it be known that is acceptable, and others will face their own consequences," he flicked his tail and glanced at Reima again finally.
"Perhaps you will learn the manners your mother never taught you now, the respect she hasn't shown the rest of this herd. Hopefully now you both will understand an inkling of the pain my family and I are going through," he let his eyes slide over to Biscotti. "Who knows, maybe your daughter will come to learn the true pain of it, but even then, I doubt it," Atolos' words were calm, however, the meaning was harsh and clear. Reima would never understand the true pain, as Biscotti would never be the same calibur of mare that his beloved mate was.
"No," his voice suddenly sound weary, tired, "no I doubt it."
Shaking out his coat, the male let his head fall a bit and walked away from the scene. Pain was etched into the features, but it was not for the others to see. This pain was his own. |
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Neutral
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Reima
Filly // Yearling // Mentions: Biscotti, Yvaine, Atolos (dir), basically everyone now (ind)
Once the fire was fueled, it never seemed to burn out. Reima watched as her mother spat back at Morrigan, her intentions clear as day. She was never tired of the drama, but she just didn't want to look at Morrigan anymore. The chestnut disregarded every word from Reima, so, naturally, she will hold an ignorance of Morrigan. Instead, she turned her attention to Lorcan, who was getting smothered in love. Reima pinned her ears, glaring in his general direction as he struggled to muster up words. "Speak ill of me, not her," Reima swished her tail purely for the expression of annoyance that came from it. She was speaking ill of you, dumbass. Why was everybody so worked up over that? Biscotti wasn't the one calling Sunna a bitch, or threatening Sunna's children. She only stated what was on her mind, were her words really so influential to gain the eyes of so many? That's when Lorcan started to step up to the mess he created. Only in the most infuriating way. Who does he think he is? Just because he's the son of Atolos he thinks everything he does is justified. "I tried to be nice, alright? Since when did a few words ever offend you, unless you've grown weaker in the short time that I haven't seen you." Reima's ears flattened against her temple to those words. "That's sweet coming from someone who hasn't had the strength to muster up a sentence in the past week." How dare he call her weak when he's been the one acting like some deadhead. The more he talked, the more it angered Reima. "We all would've been better off without you," -Wait, that's not what was supposed to come out.. Reima wanted to say that if he had just stuck to his normal self and not approached them, the whole situation would've never happened. Reima broke off eye contact, watching Lorcan get blockaded by every mare that loved him so dearly. Her attention focused on Yvaine, who was now addressing her. "Reima, if your mother were dead wouldn't you want to pummel someone if they spoke of her in an ill manner?" That sentence shot through Reima like a bullet. It didn't matter how calm this mare was, it felt as though she had backed Reima into a corner. Reima bit back her words, restraining herself from further feeding into this mare's words. Mother would never die, she's strong and independent. She could survive anything that comes her way. Reima looked toward her mother, then back to Yvaine. She barely said something that could be taken as rude, and this is the reaction they get? Reima was surprised they didn't get hurt by any of the other, far worse things that Biscotti had said. Through all this Sunna talk, Reima's vision of the mare began to warp a bit more, causing her to gain more hatred for those who were connected to her. Reima stayed quiet, almost taking a few steps back as she began to collect herself more and process Yvaine's words. The deputy was right to a degree, but Morrigan wasn't, not by a long shot. The chestnut could've held herself far better than she did, given that she's practically a mare now. She deserves the same kind of reprimand as Biscotti- right? Her mother was only 5, so it's not like she's supposed to act like some reserved old mare. Reima began to calm down a bit more, releasing the pin on her ears. She didn't lower her head or change her stature, but at least she managed to get that death glare out of her eyes. "The filly wasn't offended by the comment - quite on the contrary she was happy," Reima perked her ears. Happy? "Who said I was happy..." Reima begrudgingly muttered. Why would she be happy about anything to do with Lorcan. That damned overgrown ferret never brought Reima happiness. Ever. What false lies is Lorcan feeding to this mare? He would do anything to win against Reima. The slippery little cockroach must be spreading some disillusioned fantasies; of course he would, its Lorcan. Reima glanced past the deputy, spotting him walking away with a couple of mares. He got to leave the situation so quickly, even though he was the start of it, privileged little- Reima felt a great wave of doom wash over her- why? She turned her head to see the goliath closing the distance between them. His height was just unfair, what kind of freaks of nature were his parents to create such offspring? He already looked done with life, so this obviously wasn't going to go down well. His presence was like the grim-reaper was staring Reima down. Whenever he was around, nothing ever good happened, which gave Reima a pit of anxiety every time he approached. Sure, he had good reason; Reima was always a little shit, starting fights and finishing them at her will. Reima's body was tense as Yvaine told her what her mother had done. She makes it sound way worse. Reima looked toward her mom, who now took a step in front of her to block Reima from Atolos. She wasn't worried about her own punishment; Atolos never reprimanded yearlings too harshly. She feared for her mother. Would she be kicked from the herd? If she goes, I go. Reima forced herself to look up at Atolos, a stern gaze setting on his cold eyes. Her hoof stomped the ground instinctively as she thought of the consequences. She wouldn't dare to speak a word out against him, as that would only make things horribly worse. Atolos then began to name the punishments. "Since you wish to insult my beloved mate as a way to harm a child, I think it's only fitting that your punishment be dolled out to both you, and your daughter." Now Atolos was just doing this out of spite. Reima never had a say in this, yet here she is, getting the backhand of Atolos' pride. She had just finished collecting herself, and now he had started to pressure her back into a fit. The punishment only got worse. Like hell I won't join her. Reima's anxiety turned into a fire instead, her respect for Atolos only diminishing as he spoke. Biscotti started to make her demands, but Atolos seemed unphased by them. Once he corrected Biscotti, he turned to Reima. Oh, if only she was some goliath that could stand up to this thing. Reima stared him dead in the eyes, with that certain passion of; if I could, I would trample you, sir. Perhaps you would learn the manners your mother never taught you. Reima pinned her ears at Atolos, it was the least she could do, other than say more things to get him riled up. So your idea of justice is try to kill my mother? Real noble of you. The fact that she would be first pick for the coyotes was the same as simply throwing her to them himself. "I thought a stallion was meant to protect his herd, not kill them off." Reima muttered. If Biscotti died out there, Reima would never forgive him. Her pain would be worse than his, because he wouldn't have been helpless and held back from defending his precious mate, instead, a force that couldn't have been helped was made on Sunna. This is not nearly the same. This would be plain murder, and for the rest of the herd to go along with it? They're all culprits. Reima averted her gaze, looking to her mother for reassurance, but even then, found none. Fucking damn him. Damn them all. Reima fought back the thoughts of not being able to help her mother if the coyotes were to come and pick her off. The howls she would hear, celebrating her death. The same unphased Atolos. That rotten bastard. Reima stayed quiet, staring at the ground. There were a few green blades left from earlier when Lorcan decided to give them some. How did all of this shit happen from that little act? If her mother died... Reima stomped a hoof on the green blades, twisting it left and right to get her anger out on it. She just wanted to continue their walk. She wanted to move, not be helpless and restless standing beside her mother, who was being humiliated in front of the others. |
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Neutral
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Kage | 5 | Lone Mare | M: Open Kage, who’d been resting under the shade of a lonely, decaying tree, felt comparable to the plant which she sought shelter under. The tree must’ve once stood proud and tall, with beautiful leaves as green as the grass used to be. But, now, it’s gnarly branches were rotting away under the sun, unable to withstand the blistering heat and lack of water. And though saying that she felt the same as a tree was a bit ridiculous, in Kage’s case, it was very true. In the past, the midnight black mare had enjoyed her life, though lonesome, she managed to not just survive, but she lived. Her life of traveling with not a single soul there to tell her what to do was great, and she took pride in her abilities to make it as far as she had. But, now, Kage wished that she’d died earlier. This drought had taken the essence of bliss away from the mare’s life and reduced her to an emaciated creature with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. For once in her life, Kage’s desolation was not comforted by the breeze that strolled by, nor by the silence that followed. The small mare stepped out of the shelter of the tree and into the scorching sunlight, feeling it’s rays beat down on her fur as she stepped out of the shade completely. She took a look at her surroundings, but all that her eyes could see in the barren wasteland was the empty river that she’d come across and the lone tree. Deciding that she may as well die looking for water rather than just giving up, Kage turned to face the direction opposite of where she’d come from before. It was dry, dead orangish earth covered with sagebrush and withered grass as far as the eye could see. But, maybe if she got lucky, she’d find a drink of water sometime soon. Transitioning from a slow walk into a fast but rather smooth trot, Kage made a move, kicking up a large cloud of dust and dirt behind her as she left the river behind. She carried her head high and elegantly, as if there was anybody around to watch her. Unlike the terrain which she’d traversed before, the ground beneath the lone mare now seemed to be largely flat, aside from a few small dips and crevices. It looked safe to pick up at a faster pace. Kage had to make haste if she wanted any chance of survival. Stretching out her head and lifting her feet up high, the mare went into a canter, trying to limit how speedily she ran so as to not waste any stamina. Her hooves pounded the earth, making Kage’s presence known to all. The now dirtied black mare let out a loud neigh, in case there were any other loners around. It echoed across the wasteland, and got no reply. |
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Neutral
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Biscotti Mare || 5 Years || Herd Mare || Mentions: Atolos, Reima Mares (ind.) Stubborn bastard. Flaring her nostrils, the painted mare flicked her tail. Biscotti had an undying urge to snap back at this stallion, and use her harshest of words possible, but it could kill her and.. or even her daughter. She wasn't a good mother, but she wasn't a monster. "Who knows, maybe your daughter will come to learn the true pain of it, but even then, I doubt it." One day. One day, you'll be eating your words. Behind her, Reima had muttered something underneath her breath, and Biscotti heard it all too clearly. She turned down to her yearling, and nudged the filly's head with a stern look, quietly whispering, "Watch what you say. You will get yourself killed." Thankfully, she was quiet enough only for her yearling to hear, but there was still a chance. Lifting her head back up, she watched as Atolos left, leaving them in silence. Gritting her teeth, the mare turned herself in the other direction, and nudged Reima to get moving. Well, it wasn't a nudge anymore, the mare was now forcing the yearling to come with her. Biscotti began to walk away, flattening her ears against her skull, and flicked her tail towards the other mares as she walked off, obviously pissed off. Is Atolos physcotic? He is putting a yearlings life in danger. Biscotti? She can take care of herself just fine, walking in the back of the herd? No problem. Eating last? Meh, could have been worse. No shelter? Nothing she can't handle. But a yearling? One who has yet to discover life? Fucking stupid! The painted mare huffed, her nostrils flaring red. She was upset, frustrated, pissed.. the whole lot. She could kick down a god damn tree right now. Ok- probably not, but she wanted to. They would be traveling a lot after this, so she needed to prepare her yearling for the harsh roads ahead. Finding a crippled oak, the herd mare walked underneath it, muttering something only herself could hear, "If my foal dies Atolos.. I hope you'll feel proud of yourself." Taking in a few deep breaths, the mare calmed herself down to a bearable mood. Now was the time to prepare her yearling. As they would be traveling great distances, and with Biscotti at the back of the herd, the yearling will be walking amongst the herd, she'd need to know who to steer close to, keeping pace, and the whole lot. Sighing quietlty to herself, Biscotti shook her head. |
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Darkseeker
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Nasima 9 Years || Herd Mare || Mentions: Biscotti, Yvaine, Reima, Atolos The air was tense, everybody quiet. There was a certain thickness that suffocated her from the lack of volume. The quietness, it seemed, was worse than anything. Nobody knew what to say next, nobody knew what to do. It had confused Nasima, why her surroundings had grown silent, until she had lifted her gaze. It made sense now, why everybody kept to themselves. Atolos had now been involved. She had seen his large stature parading forward, a deep "what's going on?" Escaping his mouth upon entry. Not yet a week after Sunna's death, and already the mares were at one another's throats. What would her dear friend say to this? She would be saddened crestfallen, that's what. To see her herd turn against one another during such rough times was enough to send any mare into a disappointed state. This was a time when unity was meant to be shown. It was a test for them collectively as a herd, and they had failed. "I see." Those two words. Both short, yet of great significance. From those two words alone, Nasima knew that Atolos was here to end things once and for all. Whether it was good or not, well, she herself did not know. However, as he carried forth with his words, the mare's gaze grew more intense, her worries increasing.. And when the final punishment was bestowed, she let out a long sigh that she had been holding in. The punishment, while severe and intense, was fit. Many would not agree, but it was right. It would show several lessons to both mother and daughter. Biscotti would learn what it would feel like to weaken. She would learn that her words would cost her time away from her daughter and the herd. She would act differently knowing that she no longer had the protection of the herd. It was her own doing, speaking ill of Sunna whom had done her best to make it successful, and Reima? The young filly could perhaps understand the feeling of being without a mother, so upon Biscotti's return, could perhaps talk some sense into her. It was harsh, but it was right. It was proper. It was the best choice. It was clear that Biscotti held worry for her daughter by the way she spoke back, trying to reason out a better punishment, but it was of no use. Atolos often stood by his word, and without Sunna here alongside of him, nobody was there to stop him. It was times such as these that Nasima missed her friend the most. Sunna would have known just what to do and say in this situation. She would have broken it apart in seconds, but she wasn't here anymore, and the herd was suffering for it. "We will not let harm come to Reima, I promise you that, Biscotti," she uttered to the other mare. She knew her words would do little to ease the situation, but if she could lesson any of her worries revolving her daughter, she would. "We will watch out for her." It was a good effort for Biscotti. One could tell that she cared for Reima in her own twisted way. It was perhaps the only redeemable trait about her. It was the only one Nasima admired. So, staring at Biscotti, she gave her her word, though her gaze didn't hold for long. Moments later, it had turned to Atolos, whose head hung low. Such pain and sadness radiated off of him, she could see it in his features. The droop of his eyes, the hanging of his head. It was similar to Lorcan's own, both having heard Sunna being insulted. Nasima felt the need to say something on behalf of Sunna, but it wasn't her place. It was a line she would never dare cross. However, what she was able to do was apologize on behalf of everybody else, and that was just what Nasima did. Breaking away from the group, she stepped after Atolos, wishing to share a few words before returning to the group. She wouldn't do it on behalf of Sunna, she would do it for her. Her friend wouldn't want Atolos, somebody she loved, to be this way. After she spoke to Atolos, perhaps Nasima would visit Lorcan. Such individuals hardly expressed their emotions, despite it being what they needed. "Atolos," she voiced, gait increasing slightly before slowing into a slow walk. "I wanted to apologize." It may have struck him as odd, wondering why she was the one apologizing. Continuing so it made sense, Nasima spoke once more, "I wanted to apologize that certain mares do not watch their words more carefully, and that those words were directed towards your children." Pausing, she continued, "I'm not apologizing for them, either. Simply that some cannot hold their tongue." She wanted to make it clear that she wasn't here on behalf of Biscotti or any other. She was apologizing because it happened when it shouldn't have. |
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Darkseeker
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Lorcan Stallion || Yearling || Mentions: Reima, Adela, Morrigan Indirectly Mentions: Atolos, Biscotti, Reima "We all would've been better off without you." The delivery of the words stung him, even now. It wasn't the choice of wording or who it had come from that pained him so, it was because he agreed. Whether it came out wrong or whether Reima meant it, Lorcan, with his entire soul, believed them. Everything would have been better if he were the one taken instead. The herd needed Sunna. They didn't need him. He was but a colt. He held no importance in it. What did he truly have left to lose? Even now, surrounded by all the mares and all the.. the fussing, all he wanted to do was get out. He should have listened to himself rather than some fake voice pretending to be his mother. He should have left well enough alone. When would he ever learn? He thought it would be nice to deliver a small jab directed at Reima for old times sake, but now he realized more than ever that he should have remained silent. Biscotti even thanked him before he said those words. She never thanked anybody! Fool. What an idiot you are. Gritting his teeth, Lorcan's face (if possible), fell even further when a shadow was cast near him. Blinking, his head turned slowly, seeing the tall figure of Atolos nearing. If he was able to pale, the poor yearling would have been white by now, so when his aunt called for him, the buckskin all but ran, eager to escape his father's presence. Horror plagued the colt's face, ears tuning in to the words exchanged as he walked away with his sister and aunt, only to pause in his steps. "He's punishing them," he whispered, ears pinning against his head before perking. Blinking, his posture sagged, his body shrinking to the ground. Biscotti and Reima, forced to eat after everybody else? He was trying to prevent this. It's why he brought the grass over! That blasted greenery. That cursed plant. Oh, he felt ill. A knot twisted inside of his stomach, pushing its way up to his throat. If Reima lost her mother.. "Speak to him, Aunt Adela. Please. He'll listen to you, won't he? Do you think he'll listen to Neela? I didn't want this. I don't want them to starve." Beginning to ramble, Lorcan gazed into the distance, speaking to himself. "Reima, she'll hate me even more than she already does, and Biscotti.. She thanked me before I said those words! I should have stayed at that dried oak. I should have sent Baldr away. Now look! Reima can end up without a mother, just like me. She'll be stuck with her father, just like me. I'd be a murderer. I wouldn't be the one to kill her physically, of course, but I would have still killed her. It's my fault if she starves, and the coyotes. What if she trails too far behind the group, never to catch up again? What if Reima grows weak and dies because of me? I hate her, but I don't want her dead." Muttering to himself, Lorcan circled around, pacing a dent into the ground as he rambled on. "Why didn't I get punished? I'm the one who started it." It was if Lorcan were asking for one by the way he kept pestering everyone. "I initiated it. Why not starve me? That isn't fair.. Neela. I want Neela." Nodding his head, he turned to his sister. "Morrigan, go talk to him. He'll listen to you won't he? Should.. Should I go speak to him? I wouldn't know what to say, of course, but I can still try. Reima and Biscotti may forgive me if I beg. Do you think they would?" Spluttering and muttering on, Lorcan's voice grew quiet when a gentle puff of breath was blown at his face. Blinking, he stopped talking, staring at his aunt. What more was he to do? |
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Darkseeker
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Neela
Mare | 7 Years | Herd Mare | Mentions: Baldr, Neela, Adela, More
A darker figure stood a bit away from the rest of the herd. Not far enough to be a target for hungry carnivores, but far away enough to primarily left alone. Her son, a dashing young yearling, had gone off into the herd a bit ago, and she had done her best not to follow to hover him. She knew she needed to give him space to grow, but it was hard not trying to be there to protect him from the harsh realities surrounding his birth.
Flicking her tail, the appaloosa mare walked towards the base group of the herd, eyes scanning for her son when the whole ordeal played out before her. Horror stretched over her faces, and the quiet male pinned her ears as she grew uncomfortable. She had no desire to be involved in any part of this. Instead, she scanned the near by horses for familiar and friendlier faces.
Her eyes spied a buckskin youth with her mother, and she flicked her ears back in worry. From here so could only imagine what was going through his mind, and she instinctively began to walk over. She paused and called out softly, "Baldr!" She knew if he heard her he would come, so without waiting, she headed towards where Lorcan stood.
The mare approached just as she heard her name, and she called out gently, "I'm right here, Lorcan." She walked up and very gently nuzzled him, breathing against his cheek softly, trying to offer comfort without being too overwhelming. After a moment she drew back and glanced to where her father was and sighed softly.
"I don't know Lorcan, father is having a hard time right now. I'm sure hearing someone speak ill of your mother only claws at that wound more. Justified or not to you, her words were uncalled for," she softly tried to reason with the yearling. "Lorcan," she started, trying to find words for him, "sometimes people say things, hurtful things, and even if they think it's okay to say those things, that doesn't mean it's right to say them. If something is hurtful, especially if it's intentional, those things should be left unsaid if they aren't necessary."
She paused to shake out her coat, and looked around for Baldr again. "I don't know the whole situation, but whether you started it or not, Lorcan, doesn't make what Biscotti said okay. And that isn't your fault," she lifted her head and sighed, knowing it might not make him feel any better.
"However, I think it would be good for you to talk to dad, maybe explain things to him. But... Dad.. I don't think he will change his mind. He's dealing with a lot right now," she frowned a bit as she spoke, worry on her features. "I don't think he'd actually let either of them die though, or really get hurt. Believe it or not, dad cares, he cares a lot. He's just hurt right now, like you," Neela glanced at her mother, and then back to Lorcan, unsure of what else to say or due for the youth. |
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Winter 
Night Weather: 
Brimstone Moon: 
