the Rift

[PRIVATE] Rose Wallace Goldaline, don't you ever die on me.

d'Arcy Posts: 21
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 2 years :: Tallsun HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE

The cliffs above the ocean were a sufficiently dramatic place for the filly to brood—though she could hardly be called a filly for much longer. d’Arcy had been an early bloomer and though she was still shy of two years, her frame had lost most of the fuzzy, awkward angles of foal-hood. With birdsong arrived, her thinker frostfall coat was dissipating to leave only sleek red in its wake. She stood near the edge, letting the sea winds whip at her black locks as she stated (seeing little) out over the western horizon where the sun was about to begin its descent.

Isolation. In her youthful lack of wisdom, the red girl had confused it with independence; that not needing to be with someone demonstrated that they weren’t needed, that they held no power over her. It was a wrong supposition, if anything her conscious separation was merely a demonstration of how much sway her emotions had on the girl; how much she cared and how little she wanted to. Her mother and brother had left her, that had hurt. It had hurt because she cared for them. Because she cared for them, they had the power to hurt her. She did not have the power to stop them from leaving again. She spent ages isolating each point, trying to examine and understand it but this first foray into the complexities of adult emotion was taking her to task.

Perhaps if she had chosen to speak with someone rather than brood in her on pit of adolescent angst, d’Arcy might have been persuaded that there were benefits to caring for other people; but there was no one to speak to, and perhaps it would not have made the slightest difference. At her core she was a creature of ambition and from the moment it entered her mind that giving other people power meant relinquishing it herself, she had resented it. If that’s what emotions found do to her then she had to keep them in check. If that’s what caring meant, then she was determined not to.

I thought the most beautiful thing
in the world must be a shadow
Art by Frostie <3

ooc :: Woooo teenage angst! @Enyo
when I tell you that i love you
don't test my love
accept my love, don't test my love
cause maybe i don't love you all that much

Enyo Posts: 27
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14hh :: 2
Onei :: Gyrfalcon :: None M.E.

You see her easily, because the bold red of her coat stands out against the pale, misty backdrop of the Edge. If the world was wreathed in curtains of silk and silver, surely this girl was the rose, and you wonder to yourself if she could be thought of as beautiful from this perspective. Not that you would, you’ve already gotten an eyeful of the great white splotch against her front (remnants of a little whoopsie-daisy! perhaps—but oops, you’re not old enough for that joke yet!) and you are not so impressed. Although you suppose someone might find her attractive. Perhaps.

You debate going over, reaching out to her, meeing her, because that ludicrous glimpse you caught as you were hastily ushered into the herd land was paltry indeed. You wonder if she’s worth meeting, if it’s important for you to stick your neck out and sniff the displaced, replaced little hussie. You wonder if your agitation with having another sister is justified, if she is more useful than she looks, if she is dangerous in a way you’re not quite aware of. Onei sits perched, still and obedient, on your wither as you contemplate the crimson silhouette. You weigh the older sister on golden scales, and you watch the dishes tip, the numbers flickering back and forth.

In the end, you realize it’s not an indulgent act to go over and meet her. You realize it’s a duty, for her blood relation does not change the fact that she is of the World’s Edge, and you must learn about that (Father said so). Her blood makes her a critical piece, however. It would seem strange to be so aloof from a blood relative, to have someone related as unknown, a stranger. In fact, now that you think about it, it’s a downright insult. You are the Knowing. You should know everything and all things, even this they cause you discomfort or displeasure.

You’re not savvy to the brooding mood of the filly; you’re forcing yourself forward, getting it over with with subtly gritted teeth, and you fail to be sensitive, receptive, to the moods of others. Still, at least you remain sweet and cordial. You’re not mean. You never will be seen as mean. “Hello,” you say quietly, coming up from behind. “You’re…you’re sister, aren’t you?”

"talk talk talk"


[Image: pixelcomm4_by_sourful-d9xl8aw.png]
Pixel by Sourful!

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