Getting accustomed to new horizons
"Your kind isn't welcome here, apostate." The guard sends his words with underlining threat through outstretched blade across the murky moat, bridge still raised to disallow passage. "Leave willfully and word need not be sent of such scant wanderings."
Across the moat, shifted in and out of easy view by the heavy mist, another of the same stature stands firm upon the warning of words and threat of metal. Clad in heavy emerald tinted armor from head to toe, not barely even an sliver for his eyes bleeds the only light in or out. With an deep breath taken, he bolsters his own voice in the hopes of compromise. "I need to speak to your lord. Where we stand suffices for what only needs to be said."
"Give me the message, then!" The guard calls back across the moat, tilting his head upwards to try and get better look for any sleight of hand. Holding his outstretched sword steady, he strengthens his grip when the plated apostate stretched out arm makes sign of hand to forward movement from behind, readying himself along with those gathering by his side to possible attack. "You would dare threaten us?!"
The guards make defensive formation as more rush out and up along that of piked walls, their bows strained as much as their arms. As the silhouette of just one of what would surely be many more darkens before the haze, an arm of longer years relinquishes it's hold to the twang of oncoming death shattered against that of sidestepping forefront. As if on cue, dozens of arrows quickly follow in screaming volley with unmoving suit of metal holding cover before now cowering shadow. Of the few that make their mark, their ricochets leave but not a one.
"Why do you attack us!" An feminine voice screams in fright from behind living blockade, to her unseen visage do the guards immediately drop their weapons as if on fire themselves, shocked expressions along with that of surprise aligned with remorse. "I want to speak to my father, at once!"
"Send for the Lord! Lower the bridge at once!" One of the guards commands, only to have yet another give conflict. Of but a few moments of almost vicious back and forth, the seeming commander makes yet another declaration. "We demand to see the fair Lady!"
"What did they say?" She asks forward from behind, to which response comes without movement. "Are you certain?"
"I did not bring you this far to merely go backwards, M'lady. They only wish to secure the truth with their own eyes." The apostate states with an even tone not befitting to one just attacked by lethal barrage. "They dare not attack again, less they think lack thereof confirms our trickery."
"What trick.." She begins to say as her head barely moves past his back arm to partial sight, "Father?!" to which her haphazard dash outwards brings her into arm waving excitement, having seemingly ignored the clank just before her breast with an slowly retracting metal laced hand.
"Cynthea!" The man, unlike those around him, appears overly well fed and clothed. His smile, for but an second, evaporates along with the happiness in his tone as he gives commands several fold. As the bridge begins to lower and quick to release archer is dragged away, he opens his arms as woman and would be rescuer makes their approach onto and over. "I feared we had lost you to those filthy criminals."
"Father!" The woman rushes forward once to the foot of the side, embraced by her father. Of but a few overly dramatic moments, they finally release with him holding his hands over both her biceps for further security. "This fair gentleman fought for my safety."
"Did he now." The father continues to smile onto the face of his overjoyed daughter, whose moment of eyes closed misses the rather distrustful stare of Lord onto gleam of brandished sword. "Thank you, for bringing my daughter home to me. I will see to an justly reward for your troubles."
"Information." The man gives as both an statement and possible question. "Is all that I will accept, in return."
"Cynthea, my dear, I have only held you in my arms for but an moment but I must insist upon your security." The lord looks kindly upon his daughter, taking her hands into his own. "Inside, of course."
"O-oh, but of course." Cynthea offers no resistance as she begins to her escorted journey farther in, "Oh, have one of the maids draw an bath immediately. And I am but famished! I demand only the finest delivered to my chambers immediately."
"And what would an apostate need of any information one such as I might be able to grant?" The lord lowers his tone into it's normal grit with many guards taking quick formation between him and still unknown and possible threat. "Merely letting you live might cost me far more."
"An young woman, perhaps of but a bit younger than your own, may have passed through in the company of an elder three." He attempts further description to the irritation of distracting tip of blade upon his peripheral, "I seek only confirmation or denial to their sighting, nothing more."
"There was an young girl not long ago, perhaps several weeks, that passed through with a bit of what you say." One of the guards farther back speaks up, "They stood out, but caused us no trouble." before giving in to his own curiosity. "You hunt them?"
The apostate remains true to his word, dipping his head to what little could be allowed, before turning his back in partial insult to the whim of answer not given. He only makes it a few an few feet before loud commotion erupts from behind, of at least one to mistakenly approach. The guard gets just to within an few feet when he suddenly doubles down upon his knees, screaming in pain. Sending many more in forward surge to the plight of one of their own, of at least half toppling over to the same agony as they get within the same reach of the unarmed apostate.
"You have a few good men here, your lordship." The apostate ceases his forward movement, even over the howls of hell erupting before his backside, of only an scant few left standing to the rest. "If I had but the time, I would like to stand alongside them, for just a bit longer."
Taking in his forward stride once more, his movements usher in the rapid clanking of an draw bridge hastily raised, whispers and cries of lingering pain filling his mind with distractions to his own. Scoffing to himself, he begins to move more swiftly even under the weight of his cumbersome shackles, dodging and weaving in between tree and occasional deer lost to his ever shifting thoughts and landscape.
Seemingly oblivious to the rapid changes in scenery and colors, he never misses an stomp to his lumbering but steady trek to no where at all in particular. Brought forward from long since past, his mind soothes the rational ramblings of his otherwise conflicted mind as he does his best not to acknowledge the weight wishing to pull him down to his most inner ire.
"Too vibrant." He mutters, his legs beginning to burn against his refusal to do anything but push even harder. Paying no heed to the glimmer of yellow slits hidden throughout the thicker underbrush, the loud crash of an crashing rotten tree springs upwards far more life than he is accustomed to. Going into an slide, he reaches out and catches hold of an elder wood that he lacks a name, jolted to an halt to catch his breath.
"Too gentle." Looking up, he lightly digs his fingers into the bark of the tree, as if to try and convince himself further. Lowering his head, he can only give it an light shake as an huff of hot air escapes through the faceplate. As if found by prying eyes, he remains utterly still for a few precious moments as an magnitude of eyes take the same to cast their gaze, if to wonder what will happen next none would know. Using the tree to add to his push forward, he takes off once more in full sprint to that which he has done in repetition for day and night upon seeming no end.
Upon yet a few more hours, he can no longer ignore the tell tall signs of approaching dusk. Slowing into an tired lumbering pace, he once more presses his hand against yet another tree too foreign to do anything but ignore of sight and mind. Taking care to use what light still casts down through the living canopy, he rumbles on and about until ample kindling fills his makeshift campsite for what would be another night lost.
"You would drag me here, for what purpose." The man sits upon the ground, his legs intertwined with the help of downward pressure from his bent upper arms resting across the knees. "Or is this penance for my vow, for which you came to finally claim my promised exchange."
He raises his forearms to cup his metal clad hands over top the other. making tight grip before struggling to do anything more. Pulling his hands inwards to across his breastplate, he verbally growls during his attempt to make even the smallest budge. Loosening his grip, he instead untangles his ankles in order to spring forth an hard kick onto undeserving campfire, sending embers high above into well lit sky.
"How can time go backwards?!" He finally begins to succumb to his inner misgivings on his possible fate. His well hidden eyes looking upwards towards underside of heavy canopy, non subtle gleams of sunlight pushing through just enough to bring another growl.
Giving the largest of high standing timber an long stare, he makes his approach to just before the trunk that exceeds his girth, several times wider. Crouching down, he leaps up in order to take hold of the lowest branch, heaving up and down for a moment to test his chances. Finding sufficient odds, he slowly and cumbersomely begins his gradual ascend to the top, scorched marks from dive bombing birds notwithstanding.
"Nefarious little bastards." His words mutter just as his eyes approach the end in order to start again. Taking an rather deep breath, he kicks himself upwards in order to clear just enough in one go to not have to wait any longer. As if meant to give an challenge, he raises his one free hand in fist to the breaking of wooden limb and leaf.
But in sharp contrast, that which was quickly raised in confrontation instead releases it's tension in order to drift down in free fall. Forced into stark silence from the unexpected view and unaccepted truth, the man reserves himself to an slow pivot of his view, several fold.
"You jest." His continued visage onto that of lush green as far as his eyes can see, of such clarity that it is as if he can almost see something risen high above the rest, blinded only by the sun sitting on the verge of the horizon. Taking in it's beauty, in sharp contrast to even the worst of assumptions, utter disbelief can only keep the words at bay for so long.
"So this is how you would entice madness." He makes his tone almost ice cold. "You must think of me as but an child, still chasing after that which I've yet to discover can never lead me to where I have to go." Slowly looking high above, "But you will have to do better."
His eyes take hold of the moon, high in the still deep blue sky. Having always enjoyed the sun more than the moon, he still held almost as much comfort in the full moon for it's sheer dominance in the night's sky when making it's grandest showing. Adopting an softer expression as the visage brings him kinder memories in turn, he shifts his weight and footing in order to find an somewhat comfortable lean on the branches.
"You are but the same as I. Forced to wait on another, when by all rights, you should..." His words creep to an halt as he watched with an puzzled hidden expression the beginning of movement in the cloudless sky. Flinging his arms out to the sudden vertigo of an confused mind, his balance breaks further just like that of already taxed branches. He struggles to the teetering cracks that serve to warn him of his imminent fate, thankful to the lasting light with the wiggle of an carefully reaching foot seeking it's savior.
"Careful... careful..." He nearly hisses his words, intense focus shattered like branches to the bright flash of light, of an fleeting glimpse does he catch the tail end of battle between solar and lunar might. As if about to converge into one, the moon instead bounces the resistant sun out of view to the sudden illumination of overly bright stars, lightly shaking up and down on it's ascension once more to high rise sky.
"O-one moment, sir!" The equine guard does an honorable dip of his head before taking off in full gallop through the halls, filled with urgency to unexpected guests of an even more elusive kind. Rounding about an corner, his hooves almost slip out from under him, much to the glower of an equine in a maid outfit growing with each shatter of porcelain. "Sorry!"
"No galloping in the halls!" Another guard, shouting to the one in quick passing, finds only the wind an audience to the pony still speeding down and around the halls as it finally approaches the largest archway thus far, almost ripping the red carpet as it skids to an half.
"I have urgent..!" The guard flinches to the overly intense glares to it's raised voice, "I.. have an urgent message for the Princesses."
"Give us the message, then." The left guard asks with an normalcy not well considered based on the messenger.
"Elder Matriarch of the White Tail clan has come..." Backing up to the sudden movement of both left and right guardponies doing the same, the doorway opening with well controlled haste. "...to see the Princesses, Princesses!"
"Please see them to us, right away." Princess Celestia, still partially staring with an raised brow onto that of her sister, Princess Luna.
"Yes, your highness." The pony slides into full honorable kneel before taking off the way they just came, distant shattering and anger filled yelling doing little to change the atmosphere left inside that of tense throne room.
"Was that really necessary?" Princess Celestia attempts diplomacy to that which refuses to look her in the eye. "Luna."
"No. It wasn't." Is all she gives in reply, her eyes straight and narrow onto doors closed anew.
"I never considered what they might do. Had I known I surely wouldn't have..." Princess Celestia approaches what would be yet another sincere apology before the slow creak of opening doors forces her to shift her everything back into expected expectations. "We welcome you."
"I am welcomed." The elder doe makes her approach through still opening golden double doors, her bulk, mostly of well aged grey coat busheled out along and the chest and shoulders, almost hides that of smaller frame following just behind. "But I am afraid that I cannot take solace."
"Has something happened in the Whitetail Woods?" Both Princesses rise from their seats and move forward to meet them halfway, both taking notice to the purposed shift of elder doe to seemingly give clear view of lowered head doe, whose look of shame causes further confusion.
"Had it, then I would not be here." The elder doe lowers her stern expression a bit, "But I'm afraid what has happened shall have far reaching consequences for all of us." Making sure to move eye contact between both Princesses. "Something was pulled back through."
The Princesses, opening their eyes but just a more, remain silent until that of darker coat shifts her eyes tighter, "How?"
"The young one was on an trial to ascend into her role, but lost control of herself in the wake." The elder doe's words bringing further meaning to those in the throne room with knowledge of the White Tail clan's purpose. "She found herself in another place, of which we should never of found, and through her inexperience took action with good intention but dire consequence."
"I'm sorry..." The younger doe keeps her eyes to the floor in her muttered, but heartfelt, apology.
"You purposely brought an spirit of malevolence from another world to our own?" Princess Luna, hinged against an already overly sour mood from other transgressions, does not entirely hide the ire in her voice. "Why would you do such a thing?"
"I-I-I... I didn't!" The younger doe flinches back, looking up with something between reservation of the anger and defense of her integrity towards purposely endangering her home. "It was fighting one! I.. I tried to help it." If to further clarify, "The good one. I helped the good one."
"How?" Princess Luna, still at the helm dare none attempt to make otherwise, remains stern but no longer in anger. "Explain. All of it."
