[SRP] What May Come

[oo Ded]

As the land became dark and the sky became still, the only sound that hung in the open woods was the soft crunching of leaves and dirt beneath hooves. Ananchel paused, a single front hoof hovering above the ground mid-step. Silvery eyes looked upwards towards the dark sky and a crease formed in her brow. The mare had noticed the object moving across the sun but truthfully had written it off. As the sky grew completely dark, an unsettling feeling settled deep into her stomach. It occurred to her that Ananchel felt a cold chill, and she suspected that it wasn’t from a change in the air but from a feeling of unease beneath her flesh.

The shadow had moved towards her from her back, so she had no warning if the impending darkness until she had been swallowed by it. From the place where she stood, the mare watched as the eerie nightfall consumed the landscape ahead.

Ananchel simply stood for a few moments. There was something calm and beautifully serene about the scene, all though she would admit that it was unsettling.

The mare’s silent observation was broken as the sound of crunching leaves and rustling branches became audible behind her. Her hoof came to the ground and her weight shifted as her head turned towards the source of the sound. Truthfully, there was a part of her that was tensed and ready to make a hasty retreat.

Those muscles relaxed as a familiar blue coat pushed its way through the bushes.

Jeremiel moved with a sense of urgency that brought a soft smile to Ananchel’s face. Her son had so much worry in him. It warmed her heart to see the stallion’s capability for compassion, but she also felt some guilt in the fact that such a need was instilled in him.

The stallion made his way to his mother’s side, moving with purpose but with an air of composure that he had inherited from his mother. His steps were fast but light. His wings fluttered a couple of times as he came to a stop before her, a tick that Ananchel had learned had shown when Jeremiel was wound up.

“Mother,” Jeremiel called gently when he had neared his mother. “I-… Are you alright? It got dark, and…” He looked at her with a hard crease in her brow. Ananchel noticed it and relaxed her own. The mare leaned towards and bumped her son’s shoulder with the side of her head in an attempt to soothe him.

“Jeremiel. My son, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” she returned. Anan knew the answer to the question, of course, but she found that the stallion had the tendency to worry about her more than was necessary.

The pale blue stallion became flustered for a moment and looked upwards. His ears pinned to the side of his head. “…It’s not right. I’ve never heard of something like this happening. I don’t know what it means. Something could be wrong, and-“

The moonstone mare gave her son another bump of the head. One of her wings opened and brushed the shoulder of the stallion beside her. “All I need from you right now, Jere, is for you to breathe.” Her voice dropped in volume. She appreciated the concern that her son gave, but she was afraid that the worry would consume him one day.

Jeremiel sighed but did as instructed, pulling a breathe deep into his lungs. He released it slowly as he looked to his mother. “What if it means something? We should be prepared. We should go back to Benoni and-“

“The world is still standing, Jeremiel.” Ananchel murmured with a soft smile. “The trees are still tall and the sky is still there. Just maybe a little dark. If this is an omen, then we will face what comes as it comes.” Her head leaned down so that she could look the stallion square in the eyes. “We mustn’t let fear consume us, lest we lose the ability to see the world as it is.”

The stallion felt his jaw set. Right though his mother may have been, worry still had its place. Unpreparedness welcomed misfortune. After a pause, he gave a relenting sigh and a brief “Alright.”

The mare bumped him with a hip. “Still, perhaps it would be wise to return to Benoni and your brothers. We don’t know how long this might last, and it’s best not to get caught in the dark.”

Meeting Ananchel’s eyes for a lingering moment, Jeremiel nodded and the two turned back, the shroud of darkness still lingering around them.

(wc: 771)
 

[oo Ded]

Ezekiel had been caught off guard by the eclipse. The forest in which he tread was dense, but the sudden darkness was still a notable and jarring shift. The dark stallion found himself curious but admiring the sudden shift in the world. There was an eerie blackness around him. The air still felt the warmth of day, the breeze that of a comfortable afternoon as opposed to the dark chills of night. The air around him had grown still and silent. All the animals had paused. Even the plants seemed to be still with anticipation.

The darkness seemed to dissipate as suddenly as it had come. It was peculiar how the light came back to the world. It wasn’t like the sunrise, where the light first gently touched the sky before spreading from the horizon. Light returned to the land like a giant shadow had moved out of view.

The whole ordeal was strange, but Ezekiel wasn’t one to be particularly superstitious and read deeply into events. The stallion instead resumed his journey, the only difference being a curiosity as to the nature of the darkness. Perhaps he would ask Nashira when he saw her.

Ezekiel was considering how his mate might have interpreted the events when a pair of figures appeared in his path. Suddenly all notions regarding the eclipse had left his mind. His gut was quickly unsettled, infinitely more than it had been by the eclipse.

“…Ananchel?”

He hadn’t seen his sister and her son in what, years? Regardless of how much time had passed, it had been lifetimes. The last time that he had seen his sister, Ezekiel had been a different creature entirely. He had been a being consumed by anger and jealousy, then. The process of his change hadn’t been overnight, but compared to then it felt as though a veil had been lifted from his heart.

Different as though Ezekiel may have been, his sister and nephew had no way of knowing. No, the scene they saw unfold before them was a being of terror from their past, emerging before them after the sudden darkness.

An omen indeed.

There was the briefest of pauses from all parties when they crossed paths with one another. The recognition hit them all practically instantaneously. Ananchel felt the blood leave her face and she once again grew cold. Frozen. She was only vaguely aware of the movement of her son as Jeremiel moved into the space between the siblings.

“Mother, go.” She heard her son say. Jeremiel’s head had lowered, his horn facing defensively in his uncle’s direction.

Ananchel did not go. Looking back on the encounter, she wouldn’t have been able to say if her lack of movement was indeed from fear or if there was a part of her that truly yearned to stay. To have some sort of closure.

Even at the worst of times, Ananchel had given her brother the benefit of compassion. Perhaps more than he had deserved.

“Ananchel,” the dark stallion called. There was something in his voice that was different than their last encounter. She had always known Ezekiel to be a creature of blind fury, as though her mere presence was enough to bring out every aggressive instinct in him. His voice was still rough and low, but there was something in the tone with which he spoke that seemed… softer? Almost sorrowful?

Perhaps regretful?

“Turn back, Uncle.” Jeremiel called. His muscles were tense. Ready. Since his birth he had been there for each instance in which Ezekiel had come for his mother’s life. It was likely that these interactions were the ones that bred the younger stallion’s worry. He had trained himself to be ready. “We wish for no trouble, but I am ready to bring it if you so choose.”

A furrow appeared in Ezekiel’s brow. Ananchel was stuck how it was the same crease that had appeared on her own son not long ago. The dark stallion’s eyes moved from her son, to her, then back.

Ezekiel had been thinking about this moment often. About the time when he was see his sister next. When he would finally be able to give some sort of recompense for the terror that he had brought to her life.

She had always shown him compassion. Would he one day be able to show that he could earn it? Things had changed, now. He had changed. But had it been too late? Had too much damage had been done?

There was always the thought lingering in the back of his mind that Ezekiel might not be able to mend the wound that he had created between himself and his sister. Even if he could, it certainly wouldn’t be in one sitting.

Ezekiel looked once more to his sister, hoping to the depths of his being that she could somehow see that something was different. Perhaps that would open a door. A pathway to recovery.

“Goodbye, Ananchel.” Ezekiel called before turning away.

Ananchel and Jeremiel would return home that day, the latter with a renewed fire that fueled his worry. His mother, though, would interpret the interaction differently. She had seen the glimmer of light in her brother’s eyes. She had seen that something had changed.

She would think for a long while on what had become of her brother. Of what future interactions the one following the eclipse would foreshadow.

Had the sudden darkness been an omen of danger? Or one of a renewed light of hope for the future?

(wc: 920, total: 1691)