we rise or fall [Black Velvet]

[sphinx]

I'm a soldier born to stand
in this waking hell I am
witnessing more than I can compute

The Weaklands. A desolate landscape that barely had the capacity to support life. Yet somehow there were those who thrived. How they managed it was nothing short of a miracle. After all, who would condemn themselves to a place such as this - a literal purgatory on this planet? Even before the plague had ravaged everything in its path, the Weaklands had been a place of suffering, most of its inhabitants on the brink of starvation. Now, however, the once barren landscape was pockmarked with the corpses of hundreds of the dead, each in varying stages of horrifying decay. There was one thing that could be said of this new state of affairs, at least now there was less competition for food. That is, if you could stand the smell.

Treading slowly across the barren expanse of terrain, Samurai found himself wondering again what he thought he would find once he arrived here. He had only been in Amaryllis Falls for three days before he had set out again. Enough time to claim the lands as his own once again; enough time to realize that the prospect of spending the rest of his days alone - with nothing but the memories of those he had left behind to an uncertain fate - would slowly destroy him. Without even giving it conscious thought, he had found himself leaving the comfort of his sanctuary for the horrors that lay beyond.

The days wandering through the lands of the South had been nothing short of depressing. Once teeming with numerous herds and their joyful sounds of laughter and greeting, the lands were now devoid of any sign of his fellow equine. The grasses of the Valerian Hills were lush and untouched, no evidence of passing hooves in their midst. Once, as he was making his way through the Borderland Woods, he thought he heard the distant call of a stallion. He couldn't help flash of anticipation and hope that he had felt. Theseus, the Great Hope of the South, had been last seen in these woods. But a long time had passed, and no hint of the great golden stallion had been whispered of since. After some time had passed with no hint of life except for the birds singing their endless harmony, Samurai had squelched the tiny spark of hope he had allowed to ignite within him and continued on his journey. Foolish to hope, in a world such as this. It wrought nothing but disappointment.

Oddly enough, he found himself crossing the border into the Weaklands soon after. Somehow, the emptiness of these lands saddened him less. It was as if nothing here had changed, an area perpetually laced with sorrow and despair. How was the current situation any different? It was an odd comfort to him, in a way. He found that matching his surroundings with his emotions made him feel a bit more in touch with reality, as if he held a strange kinship with the land itself. This would have been a disturbing revelation, were it not for his experiences over these past few years.

A scorching wind kicked up without warning, lifting his onyx forelock and blasting him directly in the face with an unholy mixture of sand and hot air. Naturally, this set off one of his increasingly frequent coughing fits. Heaving roughly, he turned away from the onslaught in an attempt to capture what air he could that wasn't laced with the tiny particles. For an entire minute he found himself gasping for air before the barrage of hacking subsided. The wind had thankfully ceased, but he now found himself covered in dirt. Shaking himself violently to rid himself of the light coating, he felt his breathing return to normal.

That had definitely been much worse than his previous fits. Probably had something to do with the dry air. This cough had plagued him for weeks now, a remnant of the illness that had almost taken his life in these very lands. He wasn't certain why he had been spared when so many others had succumbed, but he couldn't find it in himself to be glad for it. Perhaps it would have been better if he had died like the rest. At least then he would have died with honor, having served others of his kind. Now all he felt was survivors guilt, as if he had somehow robbed others more deserving of the life they should have had. It wasn't logical, he knew, but he felt it nonetheless.

Before he could delve too deep into the pits of his own despair, a shape began to reveal itself on the horizon. It was small, barely more than a faint line reaching towards the sky above, but he knew its identity immediately. It was the Weeping Willow; a great tree that had stood as the lone sentinel of these lands for as long as anyone could remember. As he came closer, it's sweeping branches became discernible. It was exactly as he remembered, it's beauty a stark contrast to the landscape surrounding it.

Coming to a halt a few yards away from the veil before him, he announced his presence with a gentle nicker. It was a faint hope, but there was a possibility that someone may be hiding beyond the shroud of leaves before him. It had once been a popular meeting place for others of his kind, and he figured if there were any survivors in this wasteland, they would be here. And if there was someone there? Well, the last thing he wanted was the scare them off by barging into the refuge within. So there he stood, waiting, not daring to hope that he had finally found what he was looking for.

pray myself we don't forget
lies, betrayed and the oppressed
please give me the strength to be the truth

lyrics: Rise by Origa
Dawn

[Dawn]

Black Velvet was no stranger to corpses, but it seemed there were more around than usual lately. Death, it seemed, had been greedy in the land of Imbros these past few months, and sated itself with the bulk of the population in the Weaklands. Velvet had teetered dangerously on the edge for a few days, when her immune system was weakened after she had trouble finding water, but luck was on her side. She'd managed to find a stream just in the nick of time, and already felt much better. Her migraine had subsided to a throbbing headache, which she was very grateful for. She still had trouble in bright light, however, so she preferred to spend most of her time in the shade. Hence her current place of rest, the Weeping Willow. Once this place was a favorite for Drafts to lie in wait for their hopeful prey, for the prisoners found themselves drawn to the large tree as a place of safety - or so they thought. Velvet had seen a few of the Drafts around, but not as many as before the plague rolled over the land. And there were even fewer Weaklanders, most of whom were frail and undernourished even before they fell ill, so the disease ravaged them easily. Velvet was Southern born and bred, and she had never been hungry or sick while growing up. Her immune system was excellent, her body was hardy and strong, and she just had that extra little bit of spark that carried her through and made her want to keep on living. That was why she was able to survive when so many others perished. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right that so many had to die, but there was no use dwelling on it - it is what it is, and all that can be done is to figure out how to go forward from here.

She lay in the shadows cast by the Weeping Willow, her legs folded beneath her, head still upright but beginning to droop as she slipped out of wakefulness. One good thing about fewer equines being around was that there was less competition for food; Velvet had been eating well these past few days, and her stark ribs were just beginning to flesh out again. She still tired easily and needed to rest more than usual, but she was in overall better health than she was three days ago. With a groan, Velvet allowed the rest of her body to droop to the ground until she was laying flat out, then heaved a sigh. She arched her back and violently twisted herself up and over, flailing her legs in the air as she engaged herself in a good roll. When her back felt sufficiently scratched, and she was covered in a new layer of dust and dirt, she pulled herself to her feet. A spasm worked its way down her body as she shook off the excess debris, grunting in pleasure at how good it had felt. Her headache still pounded away, but she was used to the pain by now, and paid it little heed.

One sculptured ear flicked sideways - she was sure she'd heard a nicker just now? Velvet wasn't sure if it her famously overactive imagination playing tricks on her; hallucinations and hearing things that aren't there are all signs of sickness after all, and perhaps she was still symptomatic. But she had to check and make sure, because she was tired of her own company. Not much worried the little dark mare - she'd cruised through life with relative ease, nothing really bad ever happened to her, and she had faith that most things will work themselves out if she just didn't make a big deal about it. Poking her head through the curtain of willow branches, her coffee-colored eyes were able to make out the form of a dark creature, though she had a hard time seeing clearly because the contrast between them and the glaringly bright land was too much for her light-sensitive eyes. She blinked and blinked, and slowly his features came into focus, though the pressure bore through her and reacted painfully with her headache. His scent was stallion, and he didn't appear to be a Draft wanting to cause trouble. His build was that of a much lighter breed, an Arabian most likely.

"Greetings," Velvet offered, allowing herself to take a few steps away from the willow. The curtain of branches parted from her back and fell behind her, so that she was fully out of its embrace. "Are you looking for someone here? Because if you are, I'm afraid it's only me. You're welcome to come in and wait for them if you like, though." She tilted her head, observing him with interest. She'd assumed he was here for someone, else why would he stand outside and nicker so politely? Was he expecting someone to be here? A lover or a friend perhaps? She did not want to be in the way if that was the case. Indicating with her head, she pushed back through the curtain and went to stand beside the weathered tree trunk. Whether he chose to follow or not, she intended to stay here in the shade as long as possible, for it was much easier for her to deal with than the direct sunlight that only intensified her headache.

[sphinx]

you complete my fate
the world unwinds inside of me
you complete my fate
the halo crawls away

It was only a moment before Samurai heard the telltale sounds of movement from behind the whispering veil. Flicking his pointed ears in attention, he watched in silence as the profile of a young mare emerged from the curtain of leaves. She blinked endearingly in the bright light, struggling - it seemed - to focus on his image. He instantly noted her strange coloring. He had never seen anything like it. Giving himself a mental shake, he realized that he was not, in fact, hallucinating. Her pelt, it appeared, was as black as the night sky. The locks of her mane and tail, however, were both as alabaster as the snows that capped the northern mountains. He was momentarily stunned, finding the starkly contrasting hues truly remarkable. She was entirely unique to him. What were the chances that he would meet with such a rare beauty in such a desolate place?

Finally seeming to focus properly on him, she moved out from the sanctuary beneath the willows limbs. He noted, with some satisfaction, that she did not appear to be ill. He had feared that once he finally found another of his kind during his travels that they would be at or near Death's door. It was clear that she was in no way suffering from any outward illness, although perhaps she was experiencing symptoms that were less apparent. His lingering cough was the only mark the disease had left on him, and he supposed he was glad for it. He wondered if perhaps she had escaped the plague altogether? The idea was fleeting however, as his experience told him that none had been spared completely.

He refocused his attention on the present as the monochrome mare began to speak. Her words were polite, and the lilting feminine tone was like a balm to his soul. He had missed the calming presence of females during his long months traveling alone. It felt as if all he had seen was death. So much so that in his mind he was hard pressed to draw up images of anything else. And yet here was this beautiful creature, her image chasing away the decay and rot that had burned itself into his mind's eye. While he did not outwardly show it, the feeling of relief was so immense that it was as if the world had just righted itself for the first time.

As she turned away to retreat back into the shadows, he could not help the small quirk of his lips as he finally noticed the evidence of dirt that stained her ebony pelt. This, combined with the easy way she addressed him, told him a lot about her. He knew virtually nothing of this mare, and yet she instantly exuded a carefree manner that he found incredibly appealing. When was the last time that he met with anyone who was not instantly suspicious of his motives? Not that he could blame them. He knew his polite and direct manner sometimes came off as cold and standoffish. However, those who knew him well understood that he was actually warm and compassionate, even if it was not clearly evident by his demeanor. It was possible that this was why he was immediately drawn to the good-natured manner of the mare before him. After all, is it not in our nature to be drawn to the qualities in others that we desire to see in ourselves?

"Greetings to you as well," he responded courteously, following her into the shadowy embrace of the great tree. "If you do not mind, I believe I will take you up on that offer of a brief respite in the shade of the willow. Additionally, while I appreciate the information you have provided, I had no specific plans to meet anyone here." He hesitated, wondering how he should explain why exactly he was here. There had been no real logic to it, as he had simply let his feet cut a path where they may. Perhaps, he thought, this was a conversation that could wait until proper introductions were made. "I am called Samurai," he stated by way of introduction. He bowed his head respectfully, his raven forelock temporarily hindering his view. Straightening once more, he sought the gaze of the female before him.

you repeat my fate
rewinding all we can
you refill my place
come and save me

lyrics: Kiri by Monoral

[Dawn]

The dark stranger had some good manners imparted to him somewhere, that was for sure. He responded to her greeting with a polite one of his own, which pleased the silver dappled mare - it had been so long since she'd spoken to anyone, let alone someone who didn't immediately offer to hurt her! He followed her into the shade of the Weeping Willow, where the world was not quite so overwhelming to her diseased eyes. Velvet found herself quite delighted to have some company; she'd just about given up hope of seeing another equine again in her life, what with the devastation the plague had caused upon the population of her home. Few were strong enough to bounce back and survive, considering how malnourished and disparaged the Captives were in general to begin with. Sometimes she wondered if there was anything left down here for her anymore, if it would be wiser to go back south and seek her family. Her father, Verofaza, was certainly dead, but she had a sister and a brother, and who knows what her mother was up to these days? Velvet had no wish to cross paths again with Aisling, but surprisingly, she did care whether the spotted bitch was alive or not. Her death would mean another loss of her genetic history, and it would essentially make her an orphan. Now wasn't that the start of every superhero tale?

She was able to study him more closely now that they were both sequestered within the accomodating privacy of the willow. The two equines stood roughly about the same height, perhaps the stallion a hair taller. His face had the classic Arabian dish, elegantly formed, with a star and perfect white socks on all four fetlocks. His coat was a rich dark bay, an earthy color that reminded of nature. He dipped his stately head as he offered his name, and Velvet inclined hers politely in return, acknowledging. "I am Black Velvet, but feel free to call me Velvet - everybody does. It is a pleasure to meet you, Samurai." There was something about him that seemed off to her. Was his coat too clean? His weight too healthy? Maybe the gleam in his eye hinted he was a kindred soul that didn't ascribe to the Draft's brutal way of treating them? Whatever it was, Velvet had a suspicion that Samurai was not, in fact, a Captive, or hadn't been one long at least. His manners were faultless, definitely those of a Southern-style landholder, all head dips and polite words. Velvet had no objection to that; she'd certainly had her lessons in respect when she was a filly, for Aisling would not tolerate an ill-raised child. But when your life was at stake every day, few equines even bothered to waste time with manners, and in fact, snark and sarcasm was the verbal currency here. She had learned quickly to respond to tense situations with wit and humor, for those who could not make light of their situation were only fodder for the Northern army. This was a land that consumed those of weak constitutions and depressive thoughts; to smile, and live, and find beauty in a land meant to destroy, was to rebel. And it was the only way Velvet could, for she learned the hard way that she was not strong enough to challenge the prison guards that roamed here. Since the plague, there did seem to be fewer Drafts running the show here. Perhaps there were gaps in the borders that could be slipped through, and maybe the time had come for her to make her way home.

Velvet was not quite ready to challenge that yet. She'd seen too many incidences of what can happen when you try to escape the North's control, and she wasn't overly keen to risk that happening to her. It was not a pleasant way to die, and she certainly hoped to live a little while longer. At least long enough to get to know this intriguing male a little bit better. "Where do you hail from, Samurai? How long have you been in the Weaklands?" she queried, wanting to know more. If he was from the South, did he really know what he was getting into here? She was curious to know his story, but her words allowed him plenty of room to maneuver if there was information he wanted to leave out. The last thing she wanted to do was probe. After all, that would be very rude.

[sphinx]

calling, calling out
for the place of knowing
there is more than what can be linked

The shade the willow afforded was a relief, and Samurai found himself letting a small sigh escape his lips as his hide began to cool. One of the downsides to having such a dark coat was the heat it seemed to absorb and hold onto. While his home in the South certainly had its share of hot summer days, the nearby waters always seemed to make the heat somewhat more tolerable. Besides, any time he began to feel too warm, he would simply tread into the cool waters near the falls for relief. However, there were few opportunities to escape the scorching heat that often swept through the Weaklands. Oddly, it seemed that the same flaming orb that warmly lit the Southern reaches of his homeland seemed - in this region at least - intent on burning everything in sight. Which explained why the Willow was such a popular place for those residing in these unforgiving lands. It was one of the few locations where respite from that unrelenting burning could be found.

As they made themselves comfortable beneath the Willow's still emerald leaves, Samurai was pleased to find them falling into easy conversation. So often those who lived here were instantly suspicious of his presence and motives. While it was obvious by his hot blooded breeding that he was no Northern brute, that did not mean that cruelty was completely absent in his brethren from the South. In fact, during his years serving within the Southern ranks he had met a number of stallions that were equally as twisted and violent as the meanest Draft. It was no small wonder, then, that many of the poor souls residing here were hesitant to engage with a stranger. However, this mare clearly did not harbor any such reservations. Samurai was not certain whether this was due to a lack of caution on the mare's part, or simply an astuteness that allowed her to quickly discern another's intentions. Either way, he was inwardly relieved at the gentle reception.

Velvet. He found himself internally working the name around as if testing the way it felt on his tongue. He decided that the way the name itself sounded, both soft and comforting simultaneously, was perfect. The name spoke of warmth and gentleness, and seemed entirely suitable for this mare at his side. "Velvet. It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance." While his words were as formal as ever - old habits and all that - his posture had relaxed to a less studied mien. He even went so far as to drop his hip and shaft a back hoof in a decidedly uncharacteristic stance of leisure. Yet even as his body rested, his mind continued to assess the onyx and alabaster female. His chocolate gaze lingered on her, noting just the slightest tenseness in her body. Perhaps she was not feeling entirely well? It almost seemed as if even the dim light that reached them here was bothersome to her. He had no desire to pry, however. That would be a conversation best left for after they knew each other a little better.

The polite questions that Velvet asked were no intrusion, and he found himself glad for the excuse to talk of his home. "I make my home in the South, as I am certain you have guessed," he replied, smiling gently. "Actually, I hold a Domain there. It is called Amaryllis Falls. Do you know it?" He turned his dished head to gaze at her inquiringly. He was not one hundred percent certain, but this mare did not have the air of someone who was born and bred to the harsh life of the Weaklanders. Something in her manner of speaking also hinted at the possibility that she had once resided in the South herself. "As for how long I've been in the Weaklands, it has been eight days since I crossed the border from the South." He paused, his gaze falling back to the gaps in the Willow's branches, his focus becoming somewhat distant. "You are the first soul I have met during my travels." His tone held the tiniest hint of loneliness. After all, he had left the comfort of his beautiful lands due to the intense feelings of isolation he was experiencing. It turned out, however, that traveling had been equally as devoid of equine interaction, and just as intensely lonely as his homeland had been.

Until now, that is.

calling, calling
never will I look away
from what life has left for me

lyrics: Inner Universe by Origa

ooc: Long overdue. >_<

[Dawn]

Emotions had never been Velvet's strong point. She tended to bottle them up deep inside, and ignore them until she no longer could. For her, the doing was always more important than the feeling. How was the brave adventurer supposed to prevail against all odds, while grieving over the loss of his loved ones along the way? He put them aside and focused on the task at hand, and didn't allow the emotions to cripple or distract him. They were hard things to wrangle, all these feelings, and Velvet was ill-equipped to even know where to begin. There was a lot in her life that she could be upset about. Her mother, never wanting her. Growing up without a father's influence. Running into her sister, then having to part ways, not knowing if they would ever see each other again. And Relic ... Relic, the stallion that made her heart flutter. Mature, southern, self-assured Relic, whose golden coat was matched only by that golden voice of his, that bantered with her in his playful tones. She had been just a young filly, three years old at most, when the two of them met for the first time in Hyacinth Copse. He was brazenly scoping out Velvet's former home, thinking to challenge her father, when the silver dappled filly ran into him. After a short, but enigmatic conversation, Verofaza appeared to chase the intruder away and keep his daughter in check. But the memory of that encounter still lingered in the young teenager's mind, and her imagination ran wild as her crush on him developed deeper and deeper. And then, a year later, she bumped into him once more in Amaryllis Falls, a beautiful land in which he had finally settled down. He'd offered Velvet a home with him, which she politely refused. Wanderlust had her in its grip and would not let her go. She was still young and rambunctious, full of dreams and with a teenage wild streak, and she still felt like she had more to do before becoming a herd mare. In hindsight, she'd been silly to dismiss Relic's offer. Maybe if she hadn't been so selfish, he would still be here today.

A little while later, Velvet returned to Amaryllis Falls to visit Relic, wanting to get to know this man a little better. Her explorations of the territory were for naught, and Relic was nowhere to be seen. She put the heartbreak behind her and moved on with things, but one can never forget their first love, which always seems to end in tragedy. So when Samurai mentioned that he was now the owner of Amaryllis Falls, Velvet tried hard to mask her emotions, to prevent them from showing on her face. Samurai seemed good and kind, and her dirty laundry was none of his business. It was the way of the world, for land to become public property once their former master passes on. And she was glad, at least, that he was now the privileged owner, because she liked him very much and considered him worthy of such an honor. Still, it was a kick in the gut to see someone else in charge of Relic's land. She knew he was gone, she wasn't stupid, but it was almost like losing him all over again. More proof of how life carries on, unknowing and unaware of all the history that goes before it. Velvet could tell Samurai some of his land's past, but it wasn't fair on him, and besides, who wants to hear about her ex-crush anyway? Better to omit the sob story and look to the future. Not wanting to lie to Samurai, who by now probably had picked up on her discomfort, Velvet simply nodded at him and allowed a tentative smile to tug at her mouth. "I know of it. It is a beautiful land. You are indeed lucky to have such a place to call your own."

That is, if it was still his own after he'd been here eight days. How would he know if some rude young male came along to challenge him for it, and stole it right out from under him? With so few of the equine population left these days, it was probably less likely for such a thing to happen, however. That was probably why Samurai felt safe to leave it so long. What would drive an equine to wander so far from home, and come all the way here, to the most abject of places in Imbros? Velvet was able to glean an idea from the trace of loneliness present in the elegant dark bay's voice, and she allowed her curiosity to draw her a step closer, taking comfort from Samurai's presence. She too had been unbearably lonely here, though she never liked to dwell on it for long. That was how one succumbs and breaks down in the Weaklands, and she'd seen it all too often. If it wasn't the Drafts that beat you up, it was the emotional torture that did; she refused to fall into that mental trap. But standing here with Samurai, having a pleasant conversation with a Southern stallion, she felt a rush of nostalgia for the life she could have had. He was bold to wander here, where any attempt to escape was met with death. He must be so sure of his ability to get back home, but Velvet felt trapped here. Her resolve was weaker now than it used to be, she was more timid, and less likely to take risks. For all her bravado of not allowing herself to be like the other prisoners, she was still a changed mare from everything she'd experienced, and her environment shaped the clay of her to be more fearful.

"You must be anxious to return home, I imagine. Eight days ... that's a long time to be away," she said unwillingly, not wanting to remind Samurai that he needed to leave. "I grew up in the South. I was born in Hyacinth Copse, and I've spent a couple of years in the Weaklands now. You get used to the aloneness. It's how they keep us weak. Divide, and conquer." A slight frown marked her brow. "Well, I'm sure that saying is meant for the ones doing the conquering, but I guess it works in this scenario too. Maybe it should be 'divide and be conquered.'" she finished with a hint of humor. Velvet observed Samurai closely with new intensity, hating to spoil the light mood, but needing to bring up an important topic. "How do you plan to get out of here, Samurai? Have you seen what happens to those who try to escape? This place is a prison, and there is no such thing as going for a leisurely visit. There are no visiting hours here. Coming in is one thing, but going? We'll be lucky if there is no fight on our hands." Unconsciously, she had referred to Samurai and herself in plural form in her last sentence. Maybe, deep down inside, she did feel like it was time to come home.

[sphinx]

the blue yonder where
the sky meets the sea
and eye meets no eye

If it were not for Samurai's naturally perceptive nature, he may not have noticed the hint of sorrow that crept into the depths of Velvet's gaze at the mention of his homeland. He could not help the pang of guilt that stabbed at his gut as he realized that his mention of Amaryllis Falls had obvious elicited some painful memories for the young mare. She need not have confirmed her prior knowledge of the location, it was obvious that she knew of it. While he regretted having dredged up something that clearly aggrieved her, he could not help the slight flicker of curiosity as to how she had come to know his home prior to his time as it's keeper. He had laid claim to the Falls when it was free for the taking, having been abandoned by whomever its previous inhabitants had been. Given what a beautiful territory it was, he had always wondered why it stood empty when he had first come to capture it as his own. Until now, he had simply considered himself lucky to have obtained it without having to endure the violence and bloodshed that usually came with challenging for a territory. Now, however, he realized that the stark absence of its inhabitants may have been a result of something more tragic than a mere abandonment of the land.

As he contemplated the potential relationship between the dichromatic mare at his side and his home, he found himself reflecting upon his own memories of those he had lost. Llamrei... Even thinking her name was enough to feel as if his heart was being ripped from his chest. She had been a beautiful mare, one who was lost and without refuge when they had first met. He, still young and rather single-minded in his desires to prove himself on the battlefield, had not intended to go about finding mares for his herd. It had been something like fate, running into her out in the open landscape of the windswept plains. She had needed a home, and he happened to have one. It was not as if there was any great lust between them, but he had cared for her deeply. They were a family, like-minded companions who had spent a short few years living a contented life within the refuge of the Falls.

They might still have been going on now as they had then if he had not left. But the call to arms was not something a soldier like Samurai could ignore. When Theseus had required his service he had left his lands in the care of Rei, fully expecting to return in no more than a few months at the very most. But months had turned to years as the battle they had thought to wage against those of the North instead turned into a battle against the plague that ripped through the ranks like wildfire. He had remained, trying to aid those that he could, while also approaching death himself. He had believed it would be his end, and yet somehow he had survived. It had taken months for him to recover even a portion of the strength he had lost while the plague devoured him. By the time he was able to extricate himself from the remaining dregs of Theseus's troops and return to the Falls, he had found them empty and desolate. He still had no knowledge of the fate of Rei, but he could certainly guess as to what it must have been. And it was the thought of her suffering alone that truly left him teetering on the edge of darkness.

As despair once again began to creep upon the edges of his consciousness, Velvet closed the distance between them. He doubted that she had guessed his thoughts, but he was grateful for her close proximity nonetheless. In that moment, they felt like kindred spirits in loneliness. The sadness that wafted off of her was mirrored by his own emotions, and it felt as if his soul was reaching out to hers in recognition. They both knew what it was to lose those they cared about and to come out on the other side utterly alone. Indeed, her query about his eagerness to return home only compounded these feelings, although he did not comment her assertion. She could not know that his initial reason for leaving was due to the sheer loneliness of returning to his home to find it abandoned. He found he was not anxious to return again if it meant he was returning alone.

Listening intently as she spoke, he found himself pleased to find she had grown up in the South. He had felt that there was something about her that bespoke of an upbringing outside of the harsh realities of the Weaklands. Although as she continued, a troubled look marred his profile. If she had grown up in the protection of the Southern territories, then why was she here now? It was obvious as she spoke that she had been in the Weaklands for some time. It was no secret that life here was risky, with the permanent threat of the North always looming over the inhabitants here. As their conversation continued, he found himself less than pleased with the idea of leaving her behind to whatever fate may find her in this brave new world. For the first time, he wondered if maybe she would be willing to leave with him. At the very least, he could get her safely past the southern border and into the relative safety of the Southern territories. Maybe during their travels they would get to know each other better, then she might even consent to join him in the Falls.

It seemed he was not alone in this train of thought, as she mentioned the difficulties they would face in trying to expatriate from the Weaklands. Well, if she so desired to leave with him, then he would certainly ensure her safe passage. "While your statements are certainly true, I have found in my travels that the plague has had the indirect effect of destroying many of those who might once have challenged those who might cross the borders to the south. In fact," he paused, a flicker of concern crossing his features, "you are the first equine I have encountered since leaving my home." Sighing heavily, he returned his gaze to hers. "That is not to say that to travel south is without it's perils, but I am quite confident in my ability to protect us both should the need arise." Turning to face her directly, he flicked his ears forward in attention, his expression replaced with one of the smallest hope. "If you would care to travel with me, that is?"

and boy meets world
and became a man to serve the world
to save the day, the night, and the girl too

lyrics: Battlecry by Nujabes

[Dawn]

Engulfed as she was in sadness for what could have been, Velvet was not immune to the very slight change in Samurai's expression. His dark eyes acquired a far-seeing quality, and his entire body seemed to tighten, as though resisting a painful memory. It seemed that the both of them had suffered losses of some kind, and the moment was one of shared grief which somehow brought them closer. In that quiet time was a place where emotions flowed freely between them, each acknowledging the other's pain. The step that led Velvet closer to him seemed right and natural, and no awkwardness came of it. No more needed to be said; the clunky nature of words would demean everything. Simply to be present, and aware of each other, was enough.

Velvet surprised herself with her inclusion in Samurai's potential escape plan. One little detail she'd omitted from him was that she had chosen to come to the Weaklands of her own free will. Seeking adventure, hoping to get a little dust in her throat, and to know what it is to be hungry. There was nothing for her in the South, or so she thought. Maybe at one point she thought she would end up staying with Relic. But he was long gone, and with his disappearance and her father's death, there was no more reason for her to remain. She fled to the Weaklands, to the very place her mother warned her about her entire life. Not in an emotional bid for a suicide attempt, but because she felt like she had no other options. The irony is that she felt trapped in the South, yet here she was forcibly restrained from leaving. How is this not a cage, something she'd been trying to avoid her entire life? Out here, fending for oneself is a task that is notably difficult, and it keeps the prisoners from thinking too much. Velvet found that days could slip by in the monotonous task of grazing, finding water, avoiding trouble, and locating shelter. Entire weeks blurred without any occasion to make a single day memorable. There were only days of harsh sunlight, and the trekking across broken ground. The line of the dead never ends. Corpses once bothered poor Velvet, and now she knew more about equine anatomy than she cared to admit. She had seen bodies in virtually all states of decay, and she knew the process of decomposition. She was lucky to have made it this far, but who knew how long her luck would hold? Any day now she was likely to come across someone who wanted to hurt her. Maybe if Samurai was with her, she would have the courage to come back home.

Samurai seemed to be thinking along similar lines. He asked her if she would like to come back with him, and Velvet would be lying if she said she wasn't very tempted. She was not scared; she'd accepted her fate long ago, and if she was going to die, then she was going to die, and not much could be done for it. However, her recent brush with death, along with fighting off the plague virus, gave her a new appreciation for her own mortality. She thrived on adventure and exploring new places, but was not a fool to go out looking for danger. Rather, she observed others who were dumb enough to challenge authority, and seeing the way they were destroyed made her very timid of incurring the same kind of punishment. But Samurai's words made sense. If he was telling the truth, she (and possibly he) had survived a devastating ailment that wiped out most of the equine population. The idea was quite a lot for her to wrap her mind around, and her headache corkscrewed with renewed determination inside her skull, causing her nose to sink between her knees. For a moment she rested there with her eyes closed, breathing in and out as she waited for the episode to pass. After a few seconds, the pressure relented somewhat, and she could raise her head again. She shot an apologetic look at Samurai, trying to push away the embarrassment. "Forgive me. I am less well than I'd like to be at the moment." A slight cough punctuated the end of her words, which brought another spike of pain. She was still far from healthy.

If she returned to the South, what then? She would rest, and recover, and be in the same predicament all over again. Doomed to wander, untethered and bored. Her travels had taught her that relationships were what made life worth living. Relic, Branach, Kalliope, Arion ... all were equines that made an impression on her in some form or another. Velvet was a different mare than she was years ago, when she was a lost soul craving freedom. Now she saw the nobility of life as a Southern equine. She'd lived in the war zone for a few years now, and she could see just how good she'd had it in the South. At the time, she didn't know. Now ... now she remembered just how privileged she'd been, and she threw it all away. It wasn't a decision she regretted, for the experiences she'd had here definitely helped mold her into a more rounded woman. But she felt like it was time to return home and settle, and give herd life a shot. And Samurai seemed as good as any to stay with. She already knew he had a beautiful and lush home. Samurai himself was alluringly handsome, with fine breeding obvious in the conformation of his body. He had shown her nothing but kindness and respect, and she felt more comfortable with him already than she normally would with a stranger. Obviously this was no deal-breaker, she would be sure to get to know him more on the way to the South. She tended to trust too easily, and she did not want to fall into the trap of going home with a someone she knew very little about. But it was promising so far. Samurai had yet to give her reason to dislike or distrust him. Him most of all, she would be happy to travel with.

"In that case ... I would be glad to come back with you," she said simply, feeling as though she was making the right choice. "Would it be okay if we waited a few more days? I am ... ah ... not really up to the journey right now. I understand if you are eager to get back though - if you want to go, I can follow when I'm ready." She couldn't meet his gaze anymore, and allowed it to slide to the ground, disliking having to admit weakness out loud. But the truth was that she hung out in the shade of the Weeping Willow for a reason. The virus still sat in her system like an unwelcome guest overstaying its welcome, and going out into the bright Weaklands sunlight was too much for her to deal with. She did not want to hold Samurai back, knowing he had responsibilities as a landholder. She would not begrudge him if he chose to come back for her or allow her to find her own way. But deep down, selfishly, she hoped he would stay with her. If she couldn't have her fairytale ending out here, she at least wanted a knight in shining armor to rescue her.