A Promise Drenched in Blood

[Rhaja]

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[atrb=width,500] A knife was buried deep inside of her heart. She had fled her home, to escape the perdition that had bred there. Diseased mindsets spread like fire, a plague sent upon the earth for a simple purpose; to disperse ignorance, and to shadow the truth in an undying umbra of poisonous contentment. She was about to flee. But the night before she left, as she slept, her home was raided by the disciples who knew she would leave, and tell the world of their flaws. She fought as hard as she ever remembered. She spilled the blood of the so called innocent, but when they slaughtered her children, she flew into a furious rage that devastated everything around her, and everyone who had sought to ruin everything she worked to build. She murdered every single raider there, and strewn about the scene was nothing but the bloodied ground and torn flesh. Covered in the crimson liquid of her enemies, she took to the skies, tears falling from her enraged gaze as the wind stung her once beautiful visage. Upon these lands, there was a sense of deceptive peace. It was as though the breath of solitude and serenity was but a lie, strengthened by the determined faith of those who sought falsity over truth. The truth, remained, that the world was filled with nightmares. Rhaja was one of those nightmares, carved from the tragedy that had instilled with her a need to not only defend herself, but to rule, to ravage the land with all that her fury entailed, and lead the world into the damnation that had nestled deep in the abyss of her aching heart. She longed for her children. She longed for the life she once had. But never would she show it, for a new chapter in her existence had began. This harmony, this concordance, would never last; would it be she who would wrench it from its sacred niche and transform its loverly tranquility into something ugly and infernal? Furious, violent, deeply disturbed, she wandered, long and far, into the strange domain, and further, ever so much further, into her mind, a disease in the making, waiting to spread.

[Mirage]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #313838;,true][cs=2] Mirage Mare : Akaith - Golden Dragon : Equine

[atrb=width,473] There was a curious trail of thoughts drafting a path through the membrane of the obsidian mare. Dreams and ambitions rose to the surface, memories of what once was hoped to be achieved by a filly so young and naïve. But looking over those thoughts again with the experiences that she had of the world, they didn’t seem so silly. What do you think Akaith? The words were hardly thought, more emotive and silent in nature. In response, the sense of pride and trust welled up, with a small snippet of thought being sent back. Anything is possible, and you are capable of anything. The mare smiled inwardly to her dragon, comforted by the trust, and hoping that she would be able to inspire others to feel the same way. Would they follow her? Peace was non-existent. The ability to co-exist while respecting the balance of chaotic love, life and death was the closest reality to peace one could ever hope to achieve. Understanding that to live, others needed to die – this precious reality we lived in could sustain only a finite number of souls at any given time. The obsidian maiden understood this, and strived to mark this realm with her presence for as long as possible – whether physically or through the memories of others. Nares drank the environment around her, she was upon the Threshold once more, this time with more in mind than simple games – though of course they would be had too. The metallic tint of blood curled her lips, she was not one to relish in bloodshed but understood its necessity in some situations. War games were child’s play to this devious creature, she and her dragon had much larger roles to play in this world of chaos. “Weary traveller,” The voice spoken is bodiless, though perhaps a shimmer or a shadow could be spied if one’s eyes were sharp enough and looking in the right direction. Golden orbs peered at the crimson stained mahogany coat, eyeing the curve of the wings by her side, noting the fatigue that the one before her ignored so very well. Mirage spotted similarities in this maiden that she knew she herself possessed; stubbornness, a will to live, and the same understanding of the workings of the world. There were of course a thousand differences, but perhaps it would be these similarities that would forge a potential friendship – an ally for things to come. The accented harmony broke through the trees again, this time the raven mare dropped her illusion and stepped forth, expression guarded and respectful. “You needn’t walk much farther should you wish to find refuge.” She offered the snippet of information freely, halting before the other smoothly. “Though perhaps refuge is not all you seek – enlighten me if you will, and I will see what can be done for you.” The glittering golden companion that was the dragon Akaith flitted about the canopy above them, her bodice obscured by the many leaves and branches one would encounter should they try to climb directly to her. Patient as a statue and moving as little as one, the raven mare awaited a response, any response, from the bay Pegasus whose eyes gleamed like crimson droplets of blood.

Equine Stock from Hoodsey.deviantart.com - used with permission