WE WHISPER YOUR LIES | snow

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S O C R A T E S

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WE WHISPER YOUR LIES

It was pouring. It was always pouring these days. The downfall had lasted an entire week by this point, and at the rate it was going, it seemed as if it would never give up. Spring showers were something that Socrates hated most about this time of year, for the mud that caked his hooves and his soaked coat caused a constant discomfort. Why was he even out in the open, though? Surely a horse of the caves could easily escape the often vicious weather of the outside world. But he felt as if he needed the punishment. ‘Useless, weak little Socrates’ the words swarmed through his mind like a hive of bees, each one stinging as they went round and round. Many would of become immune to the words by this point, but he felt like they were fresh in his head, as if that damn brother of his had said them just yesterday. But no, they had been there for what seemed like forever. And they wouldn’t leave. Maybe if they had been there, right in front of him, he could of stomped them into the ground. Physical strength was no problem. Mentally, however, he was not doing so well. Then again, when had he ever?

Turning his back against the rain, he slowly meandered through the meadow towards the north, head occasionally dipping down to brush his muzzle against the soft blades of grass. Never did he take a bite, though. He was punishing himself. ‘Useless, fat little Socrates’. If only his brother could see him now, fighting against those harsh words. The toll the stress was taking on him was clear, though. Those horrible little lines of his ribs were beginning to show against that black as night coat. He looked tired, and if you asked any of the herd, he had began to become distant from them. It was amazing none of them had been stolen or injured in his absence. When had been the last time he had seen them? Socrates couldn’t recall for sure, though he guessed it had been days. Days he had been out here, though it felt like longer.

There was just the faintest outline of something light in his path, causing him to stop in his tracks. Head lifted and blue orbs stared curiously through the gray haze. There was only one that he suspected it could be. “Shimri?” he called out, voice full of question as he took a few cautions steps towards the equine. Their back was to him, he could see. An easy target, but he wouldn’t attack unless he knew for sure if they were a threat to him.

[Snowfrost]

SHIMRI.

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With time, the mare had gotten used to life in the caves, and she had adjusted well. The stallion she had met a while ago had been... different, but she didn't necessarily mind difference. He ended up allowing her to stay in his herd, which was a good thing in the end. Though, she really didn't see much of the herd anymore -- a few here and there while walking through the narrow paths of the caves, a foal here follicing outside in meadows... they all knew by now that she was a member, but for some reason the herd really didn't feel like a herd. It didn't exactly bother her all of the time, but it still was something she took note of. Socrates, the dark stallion who she had met -- where could he have gone? Shimri shook out her mane as she lifted herself from her nest for the night -- a nice bed of dry grasses along a sloping wall, a crevice that was convieniently large enough to fit her frame; a nice nest, and a comfortable place to sleep for the night. She was fond of it, to say the least. Every couple of days or so, she would walk out to the meadows and pull up some of the grasses -- wasn't like they were in any shortage of food, or anything, anyway -- and place them in the nest so that they would dry out and keep the nest fresh.

As the mare lifted herself and turned to look back at the nest, she realized that today was probably a good day for doing just that. Sighing lightly, the white mare walked through the path that she now knew led directly to the meadows. It took her only a few minutes to reach the edge of the mouth of the cave, and she stood a few feet away for a couple of moments so her eyes could adjust before she stepped out into the sun warm light. Squinting for a few moments, the pale mare scanned around a bit before landing on a nice shaded area. Another sigh -- this time of relief -- and she headed briskly towards the shade, her pelt cooling off the instant she entered the veil. Shimri lowered her head and muzzled around the patched of grasses before she started pulling at some of the blades, uprooting them but not eating them. It only took her a bit of time before a nice pile was made, and she was about to grab mouthfuls of it and return to the nest when something caught her eye -- the dark beast was unmistakable. Socrates.

So, that's where he's run off to. Shimri dropped the blades of grass and slunk forward, eyeing him with a quietly curious nature about her. What she witnessed surprised even her -- he was growing visibly thin, and refused to eat, even when presented with such bountiful amounts of grass. His dark coat beaded with sweat -- he was baking out here, and starving himself! The mare could only stare for a few moments in disbelief before she turned around quickly and lowered her head to appear as though she was grazing softly. The King, at this point, had risen his head, and seemed to have caught her unique coat color. Well, there was no mistake that a white coat usually identified her -- she was, at the present time, the only horse sporting such a coat. The mare went on as though she had no seen him, but soon she heard his voice -- she had to answer, right? A bit of her spark flared up, and she almost felt like staring him down harshly for being so stupid, or snapping at him for his idiocy -- something. But quite simply, she couldn't bring herself to do it. When faced with the King, in his condition, something tugged at her and made her almost normal, and sypathetic.

"Yes -- Socrates?" Her voice was soft as it trickled from her equally soft lips, and the pale-eyed mare turned her head to face him, turning her body some as well, so that she was facing him with her side, her eyes meeting his own.

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