Username: Lioth
Name: In Grunge We Trust // Aleksei
Gender: Stallion
Halter color: Crimson
Personalty: Your typical mute with too many unspoken sarcastic comments.
Base coat color if RU: Bay
Name for Custom and Back-story:
Monarchy Undead // Kaveh
And so the story begins.
The crystal sands shone in his eyes like a thousand burning suns, all mixed together in an infinite universe. The vermilion cape pulled snuggly around his tangled and tattered mane, fluttering in the desert winds. His hooves glided across the grainy waters with ease and grace, stepping around his now shredded tail. Red eyes turned blood in the sunshine, waiting, hunting.
Creatures, irises popping in canary yellows, burst from the ground in monstrous waves. Their screams (ones of dying animals) wrapped him in a blanket of insecurity and caution. And yet, he stood fearlessly, with his head held towards the sun with vigor and courage. The onslaught continued, claws dragging, tearing, shredding. Talons dug deep, touching his very bones, pulling themselves over and out and back again. Would there be no end, he thought. Is this all there was to be out here?
And so the three thousand monsters charged, down into the valley of death and despair, with all there could be with blood and fear and terror.
The sun rose and fell in the sky. The beasts dwindled with the waning light, their forces used and destroyed. Perhaps the cities and towns, settlements and communities he had left so far behind him had survived. More likely than not, they had destroyed anyone who had been left behind after the first waves. If that was so, no one was left to remember his name. Not even him.
Onward he trudged through the vast sands. In the night, his shoddy mane and head no longer needed constant protection. Carefully, he let his crimson cloth cascade back to his withers. It felt smooth and silky to the touch. Even after all this time, his humble rags had not failed to calm him or the beast inside.
One hoof in front of the other. Tiny grains of sand, expanding, coming together, sticking. Sparkling under what could be called the most beautiful sky. Small diamonds shimmering in the ocean, always there, but rarely seen. Do they know what they're never seeing? Or do they walk by, war in its stages, with their heads hung low?
Days and journeys passed him by. Endless strings of thoughts and notions, along with a lot of moodling, forced him into the darkest confines of his mind. The time flew at an incredible speed, its wings spread as it soared over the heavens with no worries at all. He himself was unsure of where his journey was to lead him. One hoof in front of the other. Displacing sand, semi-circle rings blown away in the wind. Miles upon miles of nothing but mountains of grainy earth churning over itself.
His hooves soon ached with every single painful step forward. His muscles, taught and knotted over thousands of miles of strenuous walking. His hair piled itself atop his neck, his forelock curly as if rolled around a ballpoint pen. His tongue so dry one could use it to sand an old car for a new paint job. His rags clung loosely to his nimble and frail frame, contouring to the bones that poked out underneath. His vision swam with stars as dark as fear itself. Crimson eyes, now faded to a soft pink, had seen too much sun.
His gnarled and scattered eyes locked together on a single sight distanced far upon the horizon. His teeth, now a dirty, dark beige in the dust and grime, curled upon his hide as his lips shifted into a charming smirk. His very eyes themselves spurted back to life in vibrant russets and crimsons, as deep as the darkest red wine one could consume. The fire inside him that had once died roared with anger and lust for what he should behold. A city of what had once been ten thousand men rose high into the sky, with its sanded peaks and rusted metal caverns. The sun painted the ground with its wild, heavenly colors. The world around it happily bowed down and let it consume them wholly.
Evening birds chirped their songs of farewell and goodnight as the stallion marched forward. His knees popped and cracked as his steps grew larger, longer, more powerful and more electric as he neared the city of ash. One final gust knocked his scarlet cape from his withers, loofing atop his broad upper legs. Hooves struck sand, blasting columns of grain into the air as he made a mad dash for the city itself. The sun went down, down, down, and more lights in the ash turned to bright yellows and silvers as they sprang to life in the coming of the night.
And soon the pounding of hooves in the shadows turned to soft wisps as the stallion slowed his pace as he entered the ash's vicinity.
Those wisps, albeit quiet, soon alerted the outlying townsfolk of his entrance. Lights ceased to shine, and the people whispered with hushed voices, silencing those around themselves. Mangled hooves struck pavement, a precise and definite click silencing those with mutters stuck on the tops of their mouths and the slots in their teeth. The stallion quickly took on the friendliest aura he could muster, despite the unruly tangles of his coat, his hair, and his face.
He eased himself into the shadows of the clay and stone buildings, hooves clicking slowly, slower. His head was held high and he carried himself with the grace of a dancer, and the stare of an eagle. His mane and tail, long and matted, draped itself across the ground, scraping and sprinkling the ground in a white and dark chocolate sheen. His cape made small swoosh sounds as his muscles worked to keep up with his antics. The astonished eyes of many an onlooker watched his every move, their hearts beating in time with the clicks of his hooves. Their heads bobbed with every beat of his powerful stride, always watching.
Gently the people came back out into their city, turning on the lights so that they could see all around them. Whispers once more gained clout above their heads. So many questions asked, so many left unanswered. Would it ever be possible to answer them all?
A man with a beard of gold and a head of silver approached the stallion. The people stopped far behind them, watching. The man raised his left hand high in the air, holding three wrinkled fingers just high enough for everyone to see. Whispers and such things silenced and died, allowing the beasts and monsters in the dusk finally be heard with their songs of anguish and greed.
The man stepped forward, his palm now outstretched to the stallion in a form of greeting. In his palm lay a small clump of oats. The weak stallion slowly bent his head to the offering, nibbling on the sweet bits held by the dirty palm of the man. The oats felt soft on the stallion's dry, cracking lips. The man who stood before him raised his right hand and delicately traced the design on the horse's face. Soon, the stallion had finished the wealthy helping of oats, and the glimmering man dropped his hand.
The man turned and faced his people, looking at each one of them for only a few seconds before moving on to the next. "This horse... Is of royal origin," he told them. "He is from the old palace, where they defended all from the Shadows. I will assume that since he is here, in this state, that the palace has fallen." The man paused so the townsfolk could process this. "As per our agreement with the empire, this horse shall be rode by only the best rider and citizen to the Realm, where someone will take him in to their stables. Before leaving, he will be given a new name, never to be forgotten under the desert sun."
The people's whispers erupted into conversations and debates, all deciding and calculating what to do with me, who is to ride me off yonder to the place of no return. Within no time silence had returned to the small crowd inside the ash city, as they had decided on someone for me.
A girl stepped forward, her fingers stretching towards the stallion's muzzle, her clothes plain and old. Her eyes were a calming shade of honey, the same color extracted from the fresh combs deep within the center of the hive. Her wispy black hair hung to her belly in two thick braids, cascading down her shoulders in an elegant wave. Her teeth were unusually white and the smile that they represented was warm and inviting. The stallion easily calmed down with her reassurance.
Her palm gracefully connected with the horse's muzzle, stroking slowly and softly in ovular motions. The stallion's head dipped forward towards the ground, his leg going forward. "My name is Shirin - kind and sweet," she told him. "You will now be Kaveh - of royal origin. My people have chosen me to be your caretaker, and your guardian. But you must be willing to agree to take care of me as well, Kaveh."
Shirin reached slowly into her pocket, pulling out a thin blue fabric scarf. Carefully she slid it over Kaveh's head, down his neck and under his red cloth. She whispered to him that this was to protect him, that it was washed in the sacred river near the edge of camp. To this day, if you look close enough, you can see the silky blue cloth Shirin gave him, just under his crimson scarf.
Kaveh grew to have a deep connection with Shirin, and as they rode out of the ash city he had never felt safer not being with people. Many more days and nights were spent in the desert together, Shirin often telling stories of what life had been like back in her homeplace. Kaveh always watched with great interest, and often let Shirin use him as a pillow of sorts in the cold nighttimes. Shirin once cut his mane and tail, now leaving them a short, wavy bob that no longer grew in infinite tangles and twists. His cuts from the Shadows came to scars and turned black, making him look like an oversized zebra of sorts.
Thousands of rides through the desert brought the two ever closer. Kaveh could no longer live without Shirin, and he always made sure that she was as healthy and happy as possible as their journey wore on. Shirin's soft hands caressed his scarred sides, and everything about him grew better with time. He was quite the charmer, and the desert kept many things.
And eventually, the duo did make it to the Realm.
All they had given Shirin was a name - Bear Run. That was where her now best friend was going. Kaveh, in such a startled state, made no noise at all, and simply stared at all of the people who were preparing to take him from the only true friend he had made in his lifetime. Shirin had been told to say goodbye, and as she stroked his muzzle she sang many striking words into his patient ear.
"You see, I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La, la
After nine days I let the horse run free
'Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
there was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with it's life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love"
