[SRP-FIN][October RP Game] Cursed Child?

[Melomar]

An Ominous Omen Prompt:

For as long as you or your ancestors can remember there has never been a day like this one. Something is sliding ominously across the sun in what should be full daylight. But as the hours pass, the darkness and the horror it brings grows. What’s wrong? Is this some prophecy coming to pass? Is this an omen? Did you or your herd know this was coming or were you caught completely unaware?

Eventually, something blocks out the sun entirely and all the sounds of the little creatures who live on this planet ominously stop. It’s as if the world is collectively holding it’s breath. Will the sun come out again? What are you thinking? Are you afraid?

Tell us what happens during the hours of the first full solar eclipse in memory.

Starring:



Final Word Count: 2570

 

[Melomar]

Links

This Solo was preceded by some other storyline that may help to read.

Autumn Baby -- Marganita comes home from the mixer that resulted in two baskets. Prequel to this story.

Brother Bear -- The story of an uncle who will never be as his mother remembers him. Not really needed to understand the current storyline, but maybe it's just nice to know.  

[Melomar]

The kid is normal right?


Marganita's basket became the center of attention for many in the herd, not just the foal's familiar, the speckled red caribou that had followed Marganita home. Marganita's familiar, a cockatoo named Major Mitchell, commonly curled up, fluffing out his feathers to help keep the foal inside warm. The days were advancing toward winter and the wind had a sharp bite at times, even in full sunshine.

Sometimes Major Mitchell nibbled gently at the braided material, making a scratchy-squeaky noise. One day the sound came right back at him, parroting the pattern of noises. So he tried different combinations, a bite and a twist and a pull, and sure enough the foal inside had learned how to make the same noises. Later on, they worked out a code to help the baby get whatever it was that it needed. It was very limited, but it blew the bird away. "This lil foal is smart!" the cockatoo exclaimed when he first definitively established the foal's advanced intellect. "It's going to outsmart us someday soon, mark my words." Marganita's feathered partner spoke with firm conclusivity.

Marganita chuckled and munched on some grass to avoid an acidic response. He was probably right. She realized, as it began to set in that she was proud of the tiny life she had created. Between herself and Wight was this strong little mind. It responded to the world around it even though it was stuck in that tiny basket. It strove to interact in kind. It was clever, curious, and intelligent. She was… so glad that she had decided to do something reckless and rebellious.

Maybe the foal would take after her. She would share her secret place when it was older. It would decide whether to be like its mother, or like her sister. Bad witch, good witch. She chuckled to herself. Only Major Mitchell knew about it, for now. He did not approve, but he would not demand she change. He knew what she was good at, and it should so happen that it was considered evil by most.

- - -

Time flew by. Before the end of autumn the baby was expected to pop from its basket.

One morning, Major Mitchell squawked. "There's movement!"

"Well get off of it!" Marganita exclaimed. She dropped everything to spring to his side. A large tuft of freshly uprooted grass lay in her wake.

The cockatoo did as she demanded and hopped off of the feather-heated basket.

"Well?" Marganita held her head down low and lipped at the basket lid. She booped the side with her nose and sniffed at it.

The cockatoo listened for a few moments. Then his fluffed-up feathers and vibrant neck crest all collapsed to their normal place. "It... stopped moving."

"Oh."

For several more days an increasing amount of movement came from within. Kicks and shoves were not uncommon, and Major Mitchell, understandably, stopped sitting on the lid. She consulted her mother for motherly advice. The basket was sealed, and it would pop open once the foal was ready. It was only a matter of time.


WC 514  

[Melomar]

The Oracle

At this time, something took the herd's collective sanity and turned it on its head. A traveling oracle arrived in the herd's hidden valley with portents of doom.

Or so he said.

He also said that he was from an exotic faraway land. But he studied the stars, which affected the lands of not one small kingdom, but all of them. "Your tiny valley is not exempt from this terrifying fate."

"Aren't oracles supposed to be female?" Marganita mumbled to her twin, Marguerite.

"Ah..." Marguerite replied. She frowned and mumbled back, "No, they can be male, too."

"Why does he cover his eyes with those head-wings of his?" Marganita drawled softly, crossing her legs into a lazier posture. "

"Hm, maybe covering them helps him see the sky?"

"Did he shave his head, or does he have no mane. If he's going to shave his head, why would he shave his mane but not his tail?"

"Good question. Maybe you should ask him all of your questions, sister. He's right here."

Annoyed with the sisters' commentary, the oracle had parted the crowd until the sisters and the basket were at the center of attention. "Well? We're waiting."

"Who gives you the right to come to places you've never even heard of to tell them it's the end of the world?" Muttered agreement was heard among the crowd. "A god? My sister's crystals have foretold no calamities." More agreement, as she was a well-known goody-goody who would never lie or withhold information about their impending doom. "My bones call for no sacrifice to slake Evil's thirst for blood." She looked around the crowd with an inward smirk. Some clearing throats and embarrassed groans could be heard. Her craft was not well-liked nor even followed by any other member. Her services were never endorsed and rarely used.

"A servant of bones, you say? What do the dead have to do with the living? Everything! What have they really shown you?" The oracle countered. There were several surprised mumbles of agreement. Was he right? Was Marganita withholding prophesy? "A crystal witch? Does your herd really follow the word of the stone? What does stone care about the living? It is so beyond us." There was a gasp or two from the herd. Indignant words tickled their ears. Marguerite was well liked, as far more trustworthy than her twin. Was she powerless in this situation? Could one sister be a liar, and the other inept?

"Let me tell you what the stars foretell. I am not interested in creating hysteria. "I merely want to share The Word."

Marganita's face burned as she scowled at the oracle. She had not consulted with any of her premonitory items. She knew that her sister had not, either. They were still beginners, let the oracle think otherwise, and so did not want to mess with powers beyond their ability to control. But they could not afford to miss this, as the herd's future had been called into question. She didn't like what this guy had to say. What he said he represented and what he truly believed. She wanted to find out what those were, not his so-called message from the stars. Marganita was about to speak when her sister saw her face and interjected.

"All right," Marguerite said loudly, voice clear as faultless quartz. "Let's hear what he has to say, and we can draw our own conclusions." She could only hope that he would not speak words of propaganda and fantasy, but problems with real-world solutions.

"Children of the Spirits. Daughter of The Crystals and Daughter of the Bones. I come to you with a message from the stars themselves. Soon you will see quite clearly what I know. The daylight become night. The sun at its zenith will be swallowed by the moon then let free once more. During this time the souls of the dead and those close to them will have their greatest power. The living shall be in great peril. This could spell the end of not everyone, but of perhaps your own herd. You have been warned."

The herd was collectively stunned.

The oracle went on his way.

"What?! Just like that you are leaving?" Marganita stamped her hoof. She was a strong, large soquili; the sound reverberated around her.

"I am not here to change the way you live, nor to impose upon your resources. My purpose is to spread The Word and nothing more."

"What about our questions? We need answers from you!"

"I have no answers, explanations, or opinions, only The Word."

"What!"

Then he was gone. Even though the twins set off after him, he rounded a bend and was gone. Though they saw flash of light and almost as briefly a shadow overhead.

"Damn his wings! I've got to consult the bones." Marganita was not so sure she could do with her bones what that stallion had done with the stars.

"No, we mustn't do such things. This stallion clearly wants to cause panic. Our herd is better than that. But we must be strong for them and show them that we are ready for the day to come. Father will definitely need our help." Their father was the herd's ruling stallion. If he and his family put up a good front then the herd would be soothed.

"All right." Marganita growled and tsked, spinning on a hoof to head back to the herd. What a mess.

Unfortunately, when they returned, the herd had, in fact, become rather panicky.

"There you are." Relief spread across their father's face. He tossed his head and said, "You need to explain to everyone why we are safe. They cannot lean on me in this instance."

The sisters were nervous. They would not listen to the leading stallion? With the weight on their shoulders, the sisters did their best to calm the herd's many fears. It had become a town meeting where every question was answered with as much patience as the fiery Marganita could stand. After that, it was up to calm Marguerite. In the end, a shaky relief fell about the crowd. Soquili milling about finally dispersed and went about their daily business. Perhaps that oracle guy was nothing but show.

WC: 1042  

[Melomar]

It started out like every morning does, with the rising of the sun. In fact, the sunrise was particularly bright and rainbowy, absolutely beautiful with its pinks, yellows, creams, and oranges against the powder-blue sky. The birds sang, the breeze blew gently across the valley as fog rolled in for the morning. Within that heavy cloud tricks of the light played against dewy surfaces.

As the morning progressed, the breeze picked up and the trees briefly began to glow their orange and yellow and red trappings like fire glowing in the twilight hour. The tumble of fallen leaves was joined by the soft wail of the wind in the trees above as they chased runners of fog toward the hills and canyons. Their colors were deeper and darker than the dawn, as if illustrating the difference between youth and maturity.

A shadow reached across the sky and crept onto the earth. It was just a cloud.

Everyone was on edge, hair standing on end as if the chill was biting down hard. But the temperature was fine. Whinnies popped through the air more frequently than normal as members of the herd tossed a mane or pawed at the ground with a hoof. Everything was normal, but the animals felt as if there was something amiss.

"Listen." Marganita shuffled her hooves nervously and booped her basket. The foal inside happened to let out a kick at the same time, effectively booping her back. "Oww."

"What was that?" Marguerite looked up at her sister with a mouthful of grass hanging from her lips.

"I said, 'Listen,' so listen!" Marganita stamped her hoof impatiently. "Do you hear it?"

Marguerite sighed and tried listening but wasn't sure what there was to hear. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly. Where is the birdsong? The birds are silent."

Marguerite's eyes widened, her sister was right! "Earthquake?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

The sisters stood over the basket protectively. Marguerite's familiar, a raccoon, held down the basket lid, effectively holding it in place. The caribou that had claimed the basket kept watch. This continued for minutes and no earthquake came. But the birds wouldn't sing.

"What is going on?"

They broke up the formation and Marguerite went to her father. "Do you see anything strange going on?" she asked him. He stood upon a rise so that he could look out over the herd, and so that she was looking up at him.

"No."

"I hate to say this, but what if the oracle was right?" The twins' mother stepped out from behind her mate and nuzzled her daughter. "I don't think this is the end of the world but something big is about to happen." And so it did.

A shadow slipped across the sun and with enough time blotted it out. Rays of intense heat reached around as if grasping for the impudent moon. How dare it block the sun! During this time, the sky darkened and the stars became visible. Horses whinnied and gasped in alarm. They became nervous, some panicked. The lead stallion took off down the ridge back to the herd. The soquili gathered around him, voicing their concerns. They needed help and guidance. They needed to know that this was not the end of the world.

No, no. The moon will be destroyed long before the earth. So don't worry, we still have time, Marganita thought, swishing her tail. She contented herself to wait out this strange phenomenon and see what chaos would ensue. And it did become chaotic. Some ponies ran away. Some would never return, for whatever reason. Good riddance, she thought. There was no way she was going to voice her sarcasm at a time like this.

Then, something remarkable happened. The basket popped open. In the abnormal twilight of the eclipse, her son was born. On knocking knees he learned to stand and walk. She watched him at work, eyes downcast as he monitored his movements. Then he stumbled over to boop his mother's nose. He was perfect. And he looked so much like his father…

His eyes looked up at her with complete adoration. But his eyes were wrong. They glowed. He looked demonic. What did you bring home you nasty girl!

Marganita's head jerked left and right looking for whomever had said those horrible words. She had begun to hear sounds in her head. She did not know from whence they came but they assaulted her for a moment. She looked down at the baby, who could not help his appearance. He was born with a horn. His eyes glowed-- just like his father's. He had black scales across his back. Otherwise he looked like the rest of her family. Dappled, the same tail, everything. He was perfect. So why didn't anyone else think so?

She looked imploringly at her herd and saw visages of fear, panic, pain, and hatred. Why?

"WHY! Why do you hate him! He is a perfect little angel!" Marganita roared. The colt jumped and almost fell. He clung to her side in fear.

The soquili present looked at each other in confusion. What was she saying?

Marguerite interceded. "Sis, nobody said anything about your foal. No one."

"What?" Marganita's face fell. What was going on? She was glad they did not hate her child but she could have sworn they had spoken aloud. There was hate, venom and fear in their voices. Now they were calling her crazy. Bewitched. Her practices had caught up to her. Her child was demonic.

Seeing that her sister was also about to panic, Marguerite said softly, "Let's go. We'll find a cave away from this commotion for you and your baby."

"Yeah, okay." Marganita sighed and followed her sister away.

The herd stayed put and began to mill about. How did she know what they were thinking?

The moon slipped out of the sun's grasp and night became day once more.

And the child, well... Thananthos was his name, and his father must be a demon. He must be. After all, his mother was evil. Who else would have her?

WC: 1014  

[Melomar]

Finished

Final Word Count: 514+1042+1014=2570