Feeling Is Believing

[Wild@Heart]

My story begins almost as soon as it ends, it is nothing but a sad
novel. Many empty pages remain, waiting to be filled with something,
but that's near impossible now. I am cursed, I will forever walk
the same land. Never will I be able to leave, unless, that is if I
repented my sins. I would rather live a million years in the fiery
depths of hell then say sorry for the deaths I caused. I am not
sorry, nor will I ever be.

So, instead I suffer the punishment that was bestowed upon me. A
punishment that is far worse than that of death itself. My body
is rotting from the inside out, and yet I can not escape. My mind
is slowly slipping away as I see the exact same scenery over and
over again every day. I never leave this deserted ghost town. It
is the only place that I am ever alone, left with no other company
than my own thoughts. My thoughts aren't so bad, although a little
abstract. It's the memories that kill me slowly. I am dieing inside,
a little more each and every day.

I have thought what my future holds time and time again, and yet
it's hard to grasp. I imagine that my body will continue to rot
away, and soon nothing but bone will be left. A bone horse,
impossible. Will I still be alive then, I have no idea. How can
a creature live with no mass, I'm not sure. But I know that very
powerful beings made me this way, and the way I am now is even
worse then death itself. I would gladly trade in this miserable
life for one of serenity. One where what I wanted was so. Yes,
the life I should of had, but haven't.

Before this I can remember having a great life. I had a mother, but
not a father. There was never a strong male influence in my life.
The experience I had with stags was terrible, my mother had been
raped. She hadn't loved this stallion, or knew him hardly at all.
Oh how easily he threw aside her wishes to please his own. Little
did he ever care about the being that was growing inside of her.
He never cared about the consequences of his actions. He left her
all alone, to fend for herself as she grew fatter with each passing
month. He left her alone to give birth in the middle of the night,
the danger of the smell drawing predators in. He left her alone
to raise the filly that was part of him. And he never came back.
He never wanted to know the child that he had helped create. So it
was only me and my mother.

She was stronger at heart than any other equine I have ever met,
dead or alive. she managed to take care of me all by herself, and
even teach me some extra little tid bits before she died. There
was no warning at all. Her heart gave up, and in the morning when
I awoke she was dead. I like to think she died a peaceful death,
a death during a wonderful dream. But I can never be sure, and I
worried for her for a long time.

When she died I mourned. I was nothing without her, my mind seemed
to be blank. I had lost all the things that she had taught me, and
I couldn't remember anything for the life of me. I would catch
wind of predators, and yet I would stay where I was just begging
them to come and kill me off. They never did, and to this day I'm
not sure if that's a good thing or not.

But I got over it by myself, and am stronger because of it. Terrible
stags did help me, I have to admit. If I wouldn't have been raped,
then it would be very possible that I would still be mourning to
this day. But a stallion had come along, and I lived the worst
moment of my moms life. I was raped, just like she had been. I
could feel the pain, just like she had said. But I was different.
Instead of letting it happen, which I did at first, I fought back.
Pure rage overcame me, and I killed that stallion. And then another,
and another until many stallions witnessed their own death by a
rage entangled mare.

Then the god's had come. They were tired of watching their creations
being killed off, one by one by a mere mortal. They had wanted me
punished, after all if they let me go then what would that show
everyone else. It would mean they could get away with it too, and
they would have a riot on their hands. So instead they killed me.
It hadn't seemed so bad at first, even better than dieing, but now
I know better. Dieing would have been a gracious punishment, but
they weren't known for being gracious. They were known for being
stern and ferocious.

And that was how I became what I am now. I am nothing but a walking
zombie, a fiery spirit locked up in a dead body. Already I felt
dead, more dead than alive. I knew my odor was that of rotting
flesh, to some degree. It was my intestines that were going first,
and I no longer needed to drink or eat although I did anyways. I
needed some sort of way to pass the time, and this was what I knew
of.

So I now stood before the black water of the raging river, the
waves crashing against the shore and splattering my face. The
water was ice cold, but I enjoyed it on this overly warm day. By
feeling, that meant I was still alive to some degree. I enjoyed
pain, but I missed pleasure also. Never had I felt any touch of
pleasure, that inside or outside of body. Never had my heart been
warmed by another, and I didn't hold me breath. I was the walking
dead, who would want to be near me. So I chose to push others away,
or to steer clear of them all together in fact. It was so much
easier than losing anyone.

But it didn't matter much anymore. The only ones that wandered
this land were those who were cursed. They too smelt like rot, and
most of them were worse than me. At least my hide was still
impeccable, and I kept it that way. That was one of the last things
I could control, so I kept myself well groomed and my hide shiny.
One would never see a single tangle in my tassels, and heaven
forbid there should be a bur.

My thoughts seemed to be stuck on an endless cycle as I stood
in front of the angry water. Behind me I could hear the strong
wind whistling through the empty walls of the deserted buildings.
I liked it here, the place where no other equines dared to go.
They said it was haunted, but by who exactly they never did tell.
In my belief, it was The Cursed who haunted these lands anyway, so
I had nothing to fear. I needn't be scared of death, because that
would be a gift and I had all of eternity left of this curse.

It wouldn't be so bad if we could wander all the lands, but we
were to remain isolated from the rest of the living. Part of me
wondered if this was to keep all of this a secret, a way to put
mortals in the dark. I can't imagine that they would take friendly
to the idea of living dead. The god's would have a riot on their
hands, I'm sure. The mortals would protest, especially if they
knew how much pain The Cursed went through just by not dieing.

My eyes had been closed this whole time, and now they burst open.
I was done thinking, I needed to know that I was still somehow
whole. I needed reassurance that at least a little part of the old
me had followed me here, even if everything else had changed.
I leapt forward, my front pillars splashing into the river. It was
a drop off, and my whole front end fell many feet into the freezing
ebony liquid. I was short, and just the very top inch of my
shoulder blades were still visible above the water. I could feel
my submerged limbs going numb, losing all feeling as the river
rumbled around my legs. Waves were crashing down hard against my
back, pain flowing through my body. Millions of tiny pin pricks
flowed from where the waves touched skin. It was pain, but it was
good pain. I could still feel, I was still alive. So I stood
perfectly still, letting life overtake me as I closed my orbs and
took a deep breath in. My senses told me everything, and I let the
pain fill my mind, the pressure pushing out the last of my thoughts
that had lagged behind. Things were crystal clear now. Nothing
seemed difficult, and it was as if life was as simple as one two
three.

Words: 1,556
Muse: Amazing!
Other: Sorry if this is kind of boring to read. I know it's alot of nonsense and thoughts.

[.๑whovian๑.]

Bristile

I am an ancient warrior....a god of Time.


He was a silent warrior. A haunting spirit as he walked through the abandoned streets. The grass was tall in places, and shorter in some as well, which gave it an old, weathered and worn look. It looked haunted. It was haunted. He knew that very well. He felt something brush against his flank, and the spot shivered, glancing back, he saw that there wasn't anything there. Yes, it was haunted, mostly by humans and the Cursed. He had to admit, he felt sorry for those horses, existing as poor, cursed, terrible lost souls. He had never been for cursing horses to live terrible lives. It was a crime, and it gave them the inability to die, which made him angry. It went against his nature, the nature of death. He doubted that Hades himself liked the idea of cursing the horses, but he wasn't sure. Often, Bristile thought himself the only one who had fought the action. He looked over at a tall, abandoned building that seemed to be whispering to him.

He stopped, and looked at it. It was the most evil building, the old, abandoned barn. That was how he came here, and any horse, could get to Mirror Lake via this barn. If they could survive the entrance. A horse guarded it. A three hundred year old corpse. It had been cursed so that it decayed slowly. He looked into the barn, and then he shivered. There it was. Standing there, staring at him with glazed, dead eyes. The bone in it's nose shone, and the flesh of it's once soft muzzle was curled and discolored with the brown of rotting flesh and dark stains of blood.There was a ragged, bloodstained mane, and the eyes were sunken into the hollow looking head. Holes in the flesh shown down to the bone. He did not wish to describe the rest of the horse's features, but it looked at him, and then made a sound. It was a hoarse, barely audible whicker. It was made with difficulty through ruined, rotting vocal cords. The sound of it actually made the big stallion quiver. The corpse walked out of the barn.

"Go back," he said sharply."I do not wish to break an entry," he said. The horse stopped, looking rather disappointed. It stared at him with the same, blank expression, and walked away, back into it's barn, leaving bloody hoofprints. The only working organs in that horrible thing were the muscles and heart. It had no soul, it had no brain, nothing else. It was a mere puppet. It had been a long time since Bristile had seen that horrid creature, and it looked worse today. He never had to worry about it, because all you had to do was say it's name: Polaris. Of course, no mortals knew about this. Yes, the stallion had once been a stallion of Tainted Paradise. A cruel stallion, whose very actions Bristile himself had cursed. However, he could not even remain in the cursed lands themselves. His corpse now guards the portal to Mirror Lake, and his soul resides in the core of the very star for which he was named...forever.

As Bristile walked, he saw a mare, walking towards the river. A cursed soul, no doubt, and he followed her quietly. His true identity was hidden, which was good, and suddenly, he recognized her. The stallion destroyer. He had fought for her freedom above almost all other cursed souls. Her name was Nakoma. She had a coat of a horse that was once beautiful, but was no longer. His heart went out to her. It made him so angry, that the rest of the Gods could so happily defy him. He was an outcast to him, he was a monster. They took his purpose for granted, and it infuriated him. He was not violent or cruel, he did not taunt, he merely slipped away. Time simply moves on, bringing life and death, war and peace, love and hate. Yet the other gods dare defy him. He, Bristile, Time itself, they defied. But they could not. For even a Cursed horse could die eventually. They may live, cursed, refusing repentance for thousands of years, but eventually, they will. For Time wears on the soul, the mind. One will go insane, and without knowing it, as they beg to die, beg for mercy on their soul, they repent. They go back to their world and die. It had not happened yet, but it would. And soon.

He watched the mare go into the river, watched her feel the cool icy water ripping against her, and he decided to join her. She was in no danger, so that was no good. He walked down into its cold depths, and waded over to her, stopping a few feet away. "Hello," he said in a gentle voice. He knew her pain, and the reason she refused to repent. He knew her story. How could he not? He was Time.

words; 840
muse; O.O
notes; WOW.

[Wild@Heart]

The world itself seemed to vibrate as the god of time set foot
upon my land. I could feel the tention in the air, a new sensation
that I was not acustomed to. It was as if the whole world had
stopped spinning, holding it's breath to see what the almighty
could possibly want in the land of the dead. In a way he was like
me, unable to die easily and possesing talents that mere mortals
only dreamed of. But at the same time he was greatly different.
He had grown more knowledge if anything, instead of slowly losing
his grasp upon reality. And he was free, able to go anywhere at
anytime that pleased him. But the god of time, he wasn't
limited to places. He could switch years, he could go back in time
and witness an event that happened long ago, or he could fast
foward his life and move on. From what I knew he had control of
his phases, but I knew only little about all the heiarchy.

I didn't move at all. There were many possible reasons for his
presence. He could be here to use one of the few portals, much
like the way he had came. Or he could be here on a business.
He had been there when my fate was sealed, and I remeber him
fighting for me, one of the only. Yet, he was over rules exactly
like everyone knew he would be. And so, I was as I am. Yet, he
could be coming to release me. Yes, how wonderful that would be.
But I didn't let my hopes rise, in fear that they were only to
be crushed when I found out that I was to remain cursed. Or even
worse, maybe my sentence had been increased. After all, I had
many marks upon my report card, and they weren't good ones. So it
was very likely that he could be here to scold me too.

I wondered what he thought of the land I had claimed as my home.
It was eerily, most definitly but it also had something serene
about it. It was calm here, all the time and I could depend on it.
Things were always the same, and I had gotten used to the routine
pattern. The sun would fall, and I would sleep. Sleeping was
useless for me, and I was never tired but I did it anyway. I was
still holding on to the last little threads of my life, and I
refused to let that go. And then the sun would rise, and I would
awaken ready to begin my day. From there on out I did whatever I
felt like. Whatever activities interested me on that particular
day. But the same corpses were always here, gaurding the portals.

I could hear the gods footsteps growing nearer before stopping in
front of the barn. Inside the rotting building layed the portal
to the lake. Maybe he was here for that, a simple task. Although
to get to the portal one had to get close enough to speak to the
ancient gaurd, and that alone was a gruesome task. The land stank
of his rot, the charm to keep him from becoming completely
rotten at an early stage had only prolonged the process, not
stopped it completely. And in being that close one prayed that he
wouldn't utter a reply to their request. His breath was far worse
than anything I had ever smelt, his gut completely rotten and now
filled with black mold and maggots. It was enough to make flowers
wilt, if there were ever any in the first place. Such a vile
creature he was, and yet I couldn't help but feel even worse for
him than I did for myself. He had been here much longer, and would
be here still after I was gone. At least my time was limited, but
his was indefinite. A sad ending to what his life had been before.

Me and that gaurd had much to talk about, and we would converse on
those days I was feeling particularily lonely. His vocal cords
were near gone now, so he didn't talk much but he did enjoy hearing
the stories that I had to tell. I would spend hours telling him
of the adventures I had had while I lived, and in return he would
sit there quietly and listen. When I was tired of talking about
myself I would ask him questions, but it was clear that this
displeased him greatly. His eyes would glow with hatred, and the
skin that was left upon his face would crease. So I would drop the
subject all together and wait to bring it up once again on another
day.

I had gotten past his harsh features long ago. When I had first
claimed this land, I remember, that I was terrified of the beings
that remained here. But now I have come to understand that they
mean me no harm, and even if they did it wasn't like they would be
able to kill me. No, I was very much so invincible for the time
being. And despite his mangey appearence, his heart was golden. He
had always been a nice beast, or at least what I knew of him.
And I will gladly be the first to admit that he's deadly. He has
more sheer strength than all of the other cursed combined, but he
his mental stability is quickly decreasing, as I imagine it would
after thousands of years of standing in front of the same door and
never moving. I wasn't even sure he remembered what it was like to
feel anymore, or if he even could. I would touch him often, when
we spent days together. I wasn't afraid of his rotting flesh,
much like I hoped that others wouldn't be if I ever got that bad.
I would let my sandpaper tongue cleanse his filthy hide, and I
would wrap my boa around his in a small show of affection. I didn't
love him, of course but I cared for him greatly. He was the only
companion I had when my lonesomeness became to great for me to
bare anymore. And I could always count on him. He was always there
when I was itching for company, and I knew he always would be. It
wasn't like he had much of a choice in matters.

So as he attempted a nicker for the god that stood before him,
sorrow overcame me. It was a hard life he had. But would they
throw him out, as if he was nothing more than trash, when his mind
was finally gone completely. He had served his time for many years,
and better than anyone else around. He was loyal beyond compare,
and he deserved much better. He deserved to be sent to the good
life that floated above the clouds. But the gods and goddess'
won't count all the good things he's done, I know that much.
Instead they will focus upon the bad and send him to hell to get
tortured, as if a million years wasn't enough. This made me angry,
just the thought of it, and yet I pushed my own frustration to the
back of my mind. There was not a thing I could do about it. Life
was as it was.

So as the god that had entered our lands spoke, anger rose up in
me once again. Go Back. I Do Not Wish To Break An Entry. His
words were harsh and accusing for the stag that only wished to do
his job to the best of his ability. It was sad, the way the gods
reigned down upon all other creatures, but there was nothing I
could do about it. They were infinitly more special than the rest
of us, but I wasn't jealous at all. They were hated by most, and
only worshipped by some.

I could feel his eyes upon me, and I wanted nothing more than to
become one with the river right now, just dissapear from his line
of vision. I was like a bug under a microscope at the moment, his
pools inspecting me. I didn't want to be judged, like I knew he
was doing right now. I was being looked over by the very equine
that knew me better than any other. He had witnessed everything
that had happened to me, after all he was the keeper of time. He
knew my history, and my future. He held the very key to the timeline
of my life. I felt so exposed, and I wanted to cover up. I was
proud of the grear mortal warriour I had been, yes, but now I was
ashamed of the body that I had. It was nothing special, or new.

I kept my saphire pools hidden behind closed lids, yet I could
feel the large stag enter the water farther up up river. He waded
to me, and I wondered what it was like, knowing everything about
a creature before ever talking to them. I also wondered about
what he thought of me, oh how badly I wanted to know. But I would
not ask. I had more dignity then that.

He stopped upon reaching me, and now my one hope flared up again.
Maybe he had come to release me from this body that I was stuck
in. Maybe he was doing what he should have done long ago, even
though all of the other gods would shun him. But I pushed such
thoughts down once again. I didn't want to get hurt. Not
emotionally at least. I didn't want to live with that much pain.

Hello. He stopped when he reached me, and his tone was that of one
who knew way to much, and yet not enough at all. I uncovered my
eyes now, letting my burning gaze sink into his soul. Emotion
danced behind my eyes, and just by looking into them one would
be able to see everything I was feeling at this moment in time.
In my dark blue pools shadows of surrow danced along the walls,
definitly there but remaining hidden. Hope was there too, and
strongest off all. It was right up front, pressing against the
back of my pupils. But there was also recognition of the best that
stood before me, a clue that would tell of how I knew him.

I spoke softly, but my voice was strong. Much too strong to be
belonging to the dead. What Is It That You Want? I demanded to
know. I Have Not Done Anything Wrong, I've Been Rotting In These
Lands And Nothing More. You Could Not Possibly Have Thought Up
Another Way To Torture Me, Have You Not? You Have Done Enough
Already, If That's What You Have Come For. I Already Regret My
Very Existence. And I Could Make You Regret Yours To, Lest I Feel
Like It.

I let my orbs drink him in now, scanning his frame which still
towered over my own, even though he was standing in the deepest
part of the river. His coat is much darker than it would normally
be, soaked and turned a dark brown almost black. The markings upon
his forehead stand out against the rest, and his build is large. I
know that he can take on shapes of another, but he had come to me
as one of my own, and that flatters me. It's enough to keep me
from having him revisit his most terrible of moments, that and the
fact that I am waiting to see if he wished to redeam himself, by
redeaming me.

I can read him easily, and there is something like that of
sadness in his eyes. I am being way to harsh on him, I know.
Especially if I want him to take any sort of pity upon me. So I
decide that I must fix things, with gentle words. No, You Deserve
None Of Those Words I Spoke. You Stood Up For Me When No One Else
Did, Even Though The Others Looked Down Upon You Greatly. That
Took Courage. But You Are Nothing More Than A Coward Underneath It
All. You Have Moments Of Nobleness, I Will Admit. But If You
Truelly Believed That What They Are Doing Is Wrong, Then You Would
Stop Them. You Would Let Me Go, And All Of The Other Poor Cursed
That Ever Were. You Would Make Things Right Again. My gaze was
pointed into his eyes, and was very accusing. It was obvious that
I blamed him for what I had become. He could have tried harder, he
could have done more, and yet he didn't. I was still turned into
one of the things that I had hated the most. And I had to live with
this every single hour of every single day. It was the enivitable,
and he deserved every word I spoke. He deserved to know what I
thought, and everything I had said was the truth.

Words: 2,188
Muse: Wow. O.o
Other: It might be sort of boring once again, but it's long and super duper awesome!

[.๑whovian๑.]

((note; read the very bottom notes))

Bristile
I am an ancient warrior...a god of Time.


He knew she liked the stallion, but she did not know him. This was not Polaris. It was not the wretched soul that had had nothing more than a mind of cruelty. No, Nakoma did not know what resided in that creature, but Bristile had the mind to tell her. None of the other gods knew what resided inside that rotting flesh, that poor, helpless corpse of a horse. So many years, it had stood, lonely, nearly forgotten. However, what Bristile had been thinking was a lie. It had a soul. Oh yes, there was something inside that creature. He admitted, he was harsh to it at times, yet he could not help himself. It knew it meant no harm, but it so often tried to leave it's place. It had to be there, and it would be there. Because, it was a guardian. It did not only guard the portal to Mirror Lake. It guarded something else too.

Hope. Yes, that was what resided in the creature. A small, shimmering ray of hope, that Nakoma held to her heart, that so few seemed to understand in this world today. So few seemed to believe that there was something worth living for. Nakoma clung to the hope that she would one day be set free. That was a hope that so many a cursed horses did not possess, and Bristile admired that hope, that courageous hope that was what he had always looked for. Never had he seen something like what this mare had. There was something so pure, so beautiful that it almost brought tears to the stallions eyes. He had fought for her, he had fought for her freedom, her life, her soul, her salvation. He had...he had wanted nothing more than to send the souls of those stallions to the very pits of hell itself, for committing such a crime. Yet that was not for him to decide, that was for Hades. However, when Polaris was killed by Bristile himself, he had fought for that soul to be sent not to hell, but to the star. To the great star of the north for what Polaris had been named. Maybe he would be let out someday.

It was a terrible crime, to punish a horse so severely as a mortal. There was no greater punishment than being immortal. Unable to die, to lose your body, to become a soul, fluttering through the universe, or a star in the sky. He knew that. Closing his eyes, he was aware of the mare's desires to make him relive his worst memories. Yet he did not need her to remember. He would never forget his worst experience. It haunted him, and would for the rest of eternity. Shaking this out of his mind he looked at Nakoma as she spoke. Her words were harsh, yet the stallion did not react to them. However, he felt a slight twinge of irritation when she said he had already punished her enough. However, after she was done, he did not respond, he merely stood there. He had visited Nakoma before. For a year now, he had been debating on something. Something important. Would he show her? Would he tell her of the hope that seemed so non-existant in these lands?

Yes. He had decided he would. He didn't care if he was taunted, called various names for being to soft, punished, beaten, burned, he didn't care. This land of the Cursed was a terrible place. An evil world of sorrow and fear. He needed her to know that it did not need to be that way. That he, the god of Time had chosen her, above all other mortal horses. She was a mortal, a true mortal, even though her body was cursed. He needed her to believe that the world could be alive again. Many of the gods wanted there to be no chance of it's life again, but Bristile knew better. He was more powerful, undeniable than almost all the other gods. Nobody, not even himself could defy Time. He could look through his memories, and remember any moment in time. He could not see the future. Time was not the future, time was the past and the present. The things that could not be changed. However, the future can be changed, even if you don't know what it is.

Nakoma was speaking again, and though he wasn't looking at her anymore, he heard every word he said. He felt a sting of pain at her words. Oh, how he wanted to set her free, and all the cursed horses. It was a desire he held most dear, but that was beyond him. He had great power, but there were some things that he could not control. He looked at her through truly ancient eyes, filled with sorrow, loss, and longing. His desperate age truly shone through those dark eyes as he looked at her. He was an old man for a moment. However, he recovered, and looked away. He moved away from the mare, and stepped onto the shore. He turned to her, his eyes somber. "Come," he said in a voice that was a little commanding, but kind at the same time. He would not bring her to harm. With that, he turned and walked towards the barn.

Hope was there. Waiting as always, looking at him with those sunken eyes. Bristile stopped, and then he spoke. "Do you know what this is, my ancient one?" He said. "It is a portal," he continued. "A portal to a strange place, called Mirror Lake. Many mere mortals have misinterpreted the meaning of this mirror for centuries. It is believed that the Mirror can make a mortal, such as yourself more beautiful than any god or goddess alike." Bristile spun around, eyes narrowed, angrily, but not at the mare. "For a selfish mortal, that will come to you. But my dear, ancient one," he said softly. "There is more than one way to come back from the dead." He jerked a head at Hope.

"This creature," he said. "Is my guardian. I put him here, over two hundred years ago, as what my companions believed a guardian to the portal to Mirror Lake. He has done that, more or less. However, that is not his soul purpose either." he paused again, and took a breath. "He is a mirror himself. He reflects Hope. That is his name, his real name. To get past him, you must only say Polaris, which scares him away, but call him by his true name, and a little more of him will grow back. Before you were born, he was nothing more than rotting muscle and organ, and you could not even see his eyes. Since you have been here, since you have groomed his filthy coat, spoken to him, treated him not like a monster, but like a companion, a little bit more of him grows back. He has guarded, not only Mirror Lake, but every hope, every dream of every horse that has lived in these cursed lands, including my own." he stared at her.

"For a long time, my hopes made his bones. However, as more horses believed, his flesh began to come back. When you stepped onto this earth, this land, he grew rapidly. I knew there was something there. When you came here, I knew what it was, and I have watched him grow back. You, have a power greater than even my own, Nakoma, which is why you are here. This world needs a hope like your own." he nodded at Hope. "When he is whole again, I will be able to prove that The Cursed do not deserve their fate, as hope is one of the most pure things a horse can have."

He walked towards the rotting horse, which was now looking at him. Bristile was quiet for a moment, allowing this to sink in. Then, he spoke again. "Repentance is a way for an evil horse to return to the world. However, that is not the way I am going to show you. Sometimes, all you need is a Mirror. Look at who you are, to see yourself, to understand what is right, what you want, what you hope for. All you need to do, is look into yourself."

This speech finished, he walked forward, into the barn. The flesh creature followed him. Bristile turned to the stall, and walked into the golden light.

words; 1426
muse; apologies, but holy shit
notes; okay wow, I sorta went nuts. I originally was just going to have the creature be scary, but after what Nakoma said to it, I decided to change it and make him more important. If you don't like it.....well, Idk what to say but it's the longest post I have ever written. Oh, and I was just hoping she would follow him, but I guess she could just be listening. Anyways, OWOOOOOO!!!! I think its' a great plot idea.

[Wild@Heart]

I was well aware that my second set of words were no better than
my first, and were probably more painful in fact. The truth hurts
more than anything, I would know first hand. And yet as he looked
at me, his eyes held every emotion that I imagined he was capable
of feeling. There was a certain wearyness about them, as if he
was tired of everything. A sadness that pulled at my heart strings,
and longing. He looked quite old as he looked at me. I had never
seen such a creature look as aged as he did now, not even the
rotting. He had seen alot, I already knew. He held more knowledge
then any other, and yet he lived to tell the tale. I couldn't
picture myself living life as he did, filled to the brim with
tales to tell.

He pulled away first, his gaze settling upon the bank now. I
continued to stare at him, watching him closely as he made his way
to shore. He did it in such a manner, as if the strong current was
nothing. To him, I'm sure it was, but to me I knew it would be
slightly greater. I could already feel it now, pulling at my tendons
and threatening to drag me down. It would enjoy nothing more than
an attempt to kill the unkillable. I had no need to breath, I
would not gasp for air once. Instead I would wait it out, like I
had many times before. Eventually I ended up pressed up against
the large boulder downstream, and it was a pain to get out. I was
always tattered and bruised after such escapades, yet I always
come out alive.

Come. A simple command, yet it was filled with kindness at the
same time. I only had a second to worry, as he instantly turned
and began walking away, not worrying about whether I was following
or not. I quickly spun around, my hind end now splashing into the
river, only to be drug out almost immediatly. It was uncommon to
see any horses here backing up, as it was humans that originally
taught us that. I knew how, but I did not enjoy doing it. Especially
in odd moments when my hind end is much higher than the front.

He wasn't walking fast, and I caught up to him easily. The gaurd
was there, as usual. For all the times that I had talked to him,
he had yet to tell me his name. I wondered if it was because I
would recognize it and who he was made him ashamed. Or maybe, it
was because he couldn't really talk at all. He never said anything
exactly, but he did often make pleased or displeased sounds which
I had come to be able to recognize easily.

I was standing right behind the god when he stopped, my nose less
than centimeters away from his shoulder. I was sure that he could
feel my cold breath against his shoulder. All imortals breath was
cold, when they decided to breath. For me, it was a simple habit
that I just hadn't dropped yet. But soon, I possibly would. Like
many of the cursed, after so long you just don't care anymore, and
life seems to drift by slowly.

Do you Know What This Is, My Ancient One. I had to wonder whether
or not he was talking to me, but as he continued I was sure that
he was, after all the gaurd already knew what he was gaurding. It
Is A Portal. A Portal To A Strange Place, Called Mirror Lake. Many
Mere Mortals Have Misinterpreted The Meaning Of This Mirror For
Centuries. It Is Believed That The Mirror Can Make A Mortal,
Such As Yourself More Beautiful Than Any God Or Godess Alike.
Surely this brilliant beast had to know that I already knew such
information, and that I was no mere mortal. Yet, I didn't interupt
as such tasks were disrespectful, and instead I waited for him
to continue.

I jumped out of the way quickly, as the chestnut stag spun around.
His mask was now fierce, and his pools were stuck in a glare. At
first I thought he was angry with me, but his words told me
otherwise. For A Selfish Mortal, That Will Come To You. But My
Dear Ancient One, There Is More Than One Way To Come Back From The
Dead. His voice had grown softer until it gently faded away and
he gestured toward the gaurd. Once again hope filled my mind, and
a silent prayer rolled through my thoughts. I wasn't praying to
anyone in particular, just to the world in general. And I prayed
for my good fortune, and for this stag that I thought might be
willing to risk it all to save me.

This Creature Is My Gaurdian. I Put Him Here, Over Two Hundred
Years Ago. This aspect confused me. If he had put him here, then
how could he be so against having cursed horses at all. But I
pushed my own thoughts to the back of my brain as he continued.
As What My Companions Believed A Gaurdian To The Portal To Mirror
Lake. He had DOne That, More Or Less. However, That Is Not His
Sole Purpose Either. He Is A Mirror Himself. He Reflects Hope,
That Is His Name. His Real Name. To Get Past Him You Must Only
Say Polaris, Which Scares Him Away. But Call Him By His True Name
And A Little More Of Him Will Grow Back. Before You Were Born He
Was Nothing More Than The Rotting Muscle And Organ, And You Could
Not Even See His Eyes. I could picture this easily, after all I
had pictured my own body as such time and time again. It was not
something I wished upon myself, or any other cursed, but we died
more and more with age. It was inevitable, unless of course you
were the stag, Hope, that stood before me. Bristile continued on.
Since You Have Been Here, Since You Have Groomed His Filthy Coat,
Spoken To Him, Treated Him Not Like A Monster But Like A Companion
A Little Bit More Of Him Grows Back. He Had Gaurded Not Only Mirror
Lake, But Every Hope, Every Dream Of Every Horse That Has Lived
In These Cursed Lands, Including My Own.

I could feel both of their eyes upon me as I digested what had
already been said. From what I had understood, Hope was the
opposite of me, to a point. I died more and more with each passing
day, and he became more alive. That is, if he was spoken to and
treated as if he weren't a monster. It was odd, but this made my
heart glow, and I'm sure Bristile could see this from the outside.
That I had felt as if I had done a good dead without even knowing
it, or expecting anything in return. And it was odd, that there
was such a thing as the place of hopes and dreams. And even more
odd that it contained this god's. I couldn't imagine what he could
possibly be hoping for or dreaming of. I had always thought that
they had it all, gotten whatever they wanted whenever they wanted
it. And yet it seemed as if that wasn't so, or at least not in
his case.

I cleared my head as he began to speak again, preparing to take
everything in and remember it. For A Long Time My Hoped Made His
Bone. However, As More Horses Believed His Flesh Began To Come
Back. When You Stepped Onto This Earth, This Land, He Grew Rapidly.
I Knew There Was Something Here. When You Came Here I Knew What
It Was, And I Have Watched Him Grow Back. You Have Power Greater
Than Even My Own Nakoma, Which Is Why You Are Here. I doubted
this, the fact that I had any power at all. I knew my face had a
look of doubt to it, but he continued on anyway. This World Needs
A hope Like Your Own. His head once again gestured to Hope. When
He Is Whole Again I Will Be ABle To Prove That The Cursed Do Not
Deserve Their Fate, As Hope Is one Of The Most Pure Things A
Horse Can Have.

He moved away from me now, and closer to the rotting gaurd. He
seemed more comfortable around him now, less afraid and creeped
out. It could be the fact that I was with him, a mare of power
greater than his own as he had stated. Or, maybe, he had finally
grown acustomed to the rotting stench, as had I long ago.

Repetance is A Way For An Evil Horse To Return To The World.
However, That Is Not The Way I Am Going To Show you. Sometimes All
You Need Is A Mirror. Look At Who You Are, To See Yourself, To
Understand What Is Right, What You Want, What You Hope For. All
You Need To Do Is Look Into Yourself.

I was still thinking about everything he said when he began to
walk away. Bristile entered the barn, and I didn't get the sense
of fear that I had thought I would as he waltzed right into the
stall. I had so many questions, thousands of questions to ask but
I didn't get the chance to utter a single one as he walked right
into the golden light that was shimmering in the back stall.

It was odd, being left alone in this ghost town. It was the
first time that it had felt completely empty, without a single
sound to be heard coming from anywhere. I wasn't sure whether or
not I should follow. I wasn't aloud to leave the cursed lands, or
something bad would happen. I hadn't been told exactly what, but
I knew it wouldn't be pleasant. But I was with a god, and there
was nothing that could be worse than not dying, so I took my
chances as followed him, stepping into what I knew to be the
portal to the Mirrored Lake, a thousand questions still in my
brain.

Words: 1,715
Muse: Yep, She Has Taken It All
Other: Haha. Cliff hanger ending. I had no idea where she would end up, so that's going to have to wait for next time.

[.๑whovian๑.]

Bristile: *Runs away to Mirror Lake*