Re: The Gathering
Frolic looked around as they began to settle on a new game, a new event, their next group challenge. The consensus seemed to be the copying game; she knew the game, although not as well as some others. Something of their bonded's lands, it seemed.
They were whole, as a group. They were a cohesive collection, a group made into a herd, as close as one could get to a Circle outside their own Circle.
But she was discontented. As she looked from face to face she thought of all she knew of each of them - and she found herself jealous. Sparkle had gone through a hard time, attempting to fit into his own skin as he grew and changed; but he made his peace with the help of his mate and had taken next to no time to adjust once he had. Path had met a mere few times with her own mate to repair their broken partnership - and already she had renewed faith. Flint had struggled continuously with needing to be in absolute control; until he met his mate and found his own sense of safety.
Where was her 'ah-hah' moment? When would she feel that click in her soul and have moments such as this touch her as deeply as it touched them? She looked at this group and she found herself glad for them - but she envied the peace gained as that last part of themselves snicked into place.
What be thy trouble, m'lady Tiger Lily?
Ah, Sun Dancer, why should there be trouble? This is a Gathering, and quite a lively one.
Think not to jest me, fair maiden, for thine eyes doth sparkle with thine own sorrows. What hath placed this front upon such a lovely face?
Frolic paused and considered for all of half a moment - but she liked Path, had come to respect her.
When will I find my own peace again?
Mayhaps thou searchest for the wrong thing, dear one.
Oh? How? Most here have had that moment come where they finally managed to fit themselves together. That one moment where things go right.
It may be, m'lady, that thou are meant for naught such a moment of revelation. Nay, I pray thee, do not frown so. List.
How can I possibly smile after you tell me I may never find my peace...
Thy peace shall come. But, perhaps, not as a moment of all such things aligning. Our bonded, she holds a saying - one which I have found is true. 'Tis simple in such truth; list. Hope is a black and deadly creature, luring one to such heights as to have the fall... Kill. Hush, now, maiden, list! 'Tis indeed in relation to thy plight. Upon hope's wings thou hath flown, unto such heights as to touch stars and paint yon galaxies unto the skies. Glorious is the flight, know ye this well. Intoxicating and unrivaled, it seems we need it. Before the fall, before we are dashed upon the rocks for our souls to shatter, we learn to truly live surrounded by the unique joy that is hope's flight.
But the fall, oh the shattering in the fall, Sun Dancer - how can we be such fools?!
'Tis a horrid fall, sweet maiden. Yet it seems we need to fly; even if it means falling. Whence our spirits are repaired we find ourselves lured, yet again, to soar upon yon wings of hope. But ponder, for a moment, dear Tiger Lily. Whence a bone is broken, can it be that one day it is simply quite healed again? Nay, 'tis a gradual thing, and subtle. Bit by bit one doth regain strength in the damaged bone, ever growing closer to such health as was lost without even realizing it. 'Tis nary a mis-begotten illness within thee that doth sit ill in thy heart, dear. 'Tis a shattering. Such things take time and heal without our knowledge - until, eventually, we doth find ourselves soaring once again, chasing the black creature as high as we can, higher than we dare, higher than we dreamed. Again, we hope.
We hope. We heal, little by little, and eventually we learn to hope again. That's what you're saying?
We hope. We fly. Fair Tiger Lily, though we have naught with which to stroke yonder skies as does our winged brethren, 'tis my sincerest wish for thy company in such a flight. Oh, Frolic - come fly with me. Trust in this black creature and fly with me again. 'Tis a glorious thing. And should we fall then we shall fall together; we shall mend each other. Come fly.
I will fly with you, dear Path, Frolic murmured, a tear in her eye as she brushed her nose over the other mare's neck, it seems it can't be helped. Some day, perhaps soon, I'll fly again. And we can mend each other when we fall.