A Place Once Familiar

[bullseye]

The river herself, the Watering Hole, even the Breeding Canyon, still and silent during the wintry months, all struck a cord in the black stallion's heart. He hadn't dared go anywhere near the Apple Alley, despite some deep, masochistic desire to see that which he used to call home. Frankly, the potential of other stallions didn't scare him off, but the fear that those that once claimed him as their love or father might still occupy the lands kept him far away from the large orchard.

Although Patriot had claimed mares and sired foals after Sunshine River, none of it had ever been the same. But he'd left... left and had no desire to come back. No urge to look those he'd abandoned in the eye ever again. How could he?

This place, the Circle of Stallions, was the one area he'd only ever visited casually. No strife had ever lead the stallion and his peaceful second in command to challenge their fellow studs. It made this location less heart wrenching than the others.

Patriot paused on a small ridge and gazed out across the cold winter landscape. As with his first venture into the land of Sunshine River, his body completely failed to grasp the concept of a winter coat. Closing his eyes and gulping in the icy air, the stud allowed his mind to travel. Back to the times of Apple Alley.

[Swede]

Frustration. It was the coal to his engine, powering him onwards and yet a single inappropriate spark could derail everything. But Lonestar was in control; he knew what he was doing. The progress he had made on his quest might not have resulted in pleasant discoveries, but he reminded himself that it was irrelevant what sort of information he found, as long as he found it. His mother was still a blank space on the list... all he could really even hope to guess was that she was a lost and desperate soul, and there were plenty of those in the world. That was the type Syn went for, according to Spider. But desperation is never a sufficient excuse for the murder of an innocent, not unless a touch of evil was already present.

Syn. Now there was something he could work with; that was a name and a reputation that he could track down. The skunktailed son of Cryptic, cruel and careless. By universal agreement, the only one who could possibly be his sire. There was promise there, a chance to... he didn't know. But he would find him, and figure out what to do when the time came.

Now, Lonestar walked alone, Cascade having wandered off elsewhere. He didn't really miss the mare; company was nice, but she was stark raving mad, and he was fairly certain she would be more hindrance than use here on out. Now, all he could do was travel, and hope to hear a rumor or a clue along the way. He had not yet visited the Circle of Stallions, and since it was a stallion he was looking for, he might as well pass through. It seemed in these wintry times though, it was a quiet place; no one could be bothered to squabble over mares when basic survival was enough of a challenge.

His hooves clattered lightly against the occasional rock, picking his careful way through the terrain with its thin coating of snow. Lifting his head a fraction, he noticed now that the figure of a stranger was silhouetted against the sky up ahead- not moving, merely standing in solitude. Another loner, it seemed... the lands were full of them, strays who had no particular place to be. This one looked older though. Perhaps he had been ousted from his home by a younger competitor; it happened sooner or later to most senior stallions. But everyone has a story, and Lonestar wasn't really too interested in speculating. Instead, he nickered a casual greeting, pricking his ears forward slightly. A chat with strangers could often be rewarding.

[bullseye]

Although the scents of stallions filled the immediate area, most of them were old and incredibly faint--with the exception of that of the liver chestnut stud that stood staring at Patriot now. He was a young fellow in appearance, not even bearing the scarred appearance of a stallion in his prime; the lad had his eyes fixed upon Patriot, with an expectant look gracing his features.

Patriot's self-destructive walk down memory lane sent uncharacteristic hesitation through the black stallion's generally friendly mind. Following his abandonment of his Apple Alley herd, his personality had changed, but he remained rather amiable for a wild stud. Though a strange stud out in the desert tended to be a threat, Patriot had assisted his share of young stallions.

So why the pause this time? Frankly, the equine senior couldn't find an excuse to his liking, not even in his current state. Patriot snorted a cloud of foggy breath into the frigid air and then whinnied to his fellow stallion.

[Swede]

With his greeting accepted and no threat or warning issued, Lonestar considered the invitation for a brief companionship to be accepted, and strode closer to the elder stud. The stranger seemed a touch wary, perhaps; Lonestar didn't blame him. Not many had cause to trust a young roaming stallion like himself, and no doubt this old man had been caused plenty of trouble by others of a similar stereotype. But there were no mares present to squabble over, nothing to be gained by creating a fuss; perhaps that was enough to assuage him.

"The trouble with winter is that it goes on for far too long," he said casually, to 'break the ice' if one could pardon the phrase in this context. "And long cold nights do make you miss the presence of fellow equines... My name is Lonestar, son of no one and belonging nowhere; I don't suppose it would be too impertinent to ask who you might be?" Though he kept his tone pleasant, perhaps even a tad light-hearted, he couldn't help but feel a shiver of impatience. Small talk was a necessary evil if one was to be liked, or at least not despised, in this world; but it was information he craved, and if he could simply interrogate everyone he came across and then carry on immediately, he certainly would do so.

[bullseye]

As the younger stallion approached, Patriot sized his fellow horse up. He was the very definition of a mutt, to Patriot's observation. Even at his age, the black stallion had this fellow beat in the muscle department. The youngster bore a coat similar to Nirvana... Patriot shook his head free of the thought. He could wallow in self pity later.

“Every season has its ups and downs. Winter just seems to fixate on the downs, it would seem. Pleased to meet you, Lonestar, call me Patriot,” the dark stallion nodded to his new acquaintance.

The liver chestnut stallion seemed cordial enough. Perhaps it was a facade, but Patriot found himself inclined to believe the youngster capable of old fashioned amiability. The world needed more stallions willing to handle things rationally, he thought.

But then, he'd abandoned his one true family, leaving them to defend themselves; his advice seemed hardly worth a moment's consideration.

“Belonging nowhere, you say? It seems that winter, at least, would create a need for a bachelor herd, if nothing else.”

[Deleted]

It seemed as if there were others here, at least to the older stallion's senses. He inhaled deeply of the air, but snorted softly once he had sniffed the air. His hooves moved in a cadence that was not quite a trot, but not quite a canter. He was a gaited stallion, red chestnut in color with white stockings on all four legs. His head remained solid chestnut, lacking the white that his legs held in glory. He was a well built older stallion that was crossed with scars and the pain of losing what he could never replace.

Eros nodded in time with his movements, not quite paying mind to the other stallions in the area. He was more interested in grazing and contemplating just why he came back to this land. But he just continued grazing and maybe in time, the memories would come to him.

She had been a lovely mare, the vision of his dreams. A dark dapple grey mare that was built to take a rider into battle. Her name had been Ambrosia. She had been the reason that he was here in this land, here because he could not live without her. But now she was gone. She had died while attempting to give him a foal that he did not really need. No, he needed his Ambrosia. But she was no longer in the land of the living.

She had been a golden beauty, strong as a stallion. Her shoulder had been badly maimed by a spear during training, but that did not matter to him. Adonis was a golden mare that had attracted his attention once he had come to this world. She was running with Ambrosia, the golden beauty to his silver mate. He could have cried when he claimed them both for his own in this land. But she had passed when the pain grew too much in her shoulder. Her loss was a hard one, she had always been so strong.

The painted beauty flitted through his mind. The one that did not remember. She might well be alive still, but she was not part of his herd anymore. OF course, he did not have a herd anymore and he missed her so. She had bore him a foal while she had been stolen and he only knew his son by name and by a small meeting. It pained him so much to realize that they were so very close to him and yet so far away.

Then there was the Tritessa, the mare that had began to break him down when the war was raging. He no longer was a religious freak because of that mare. She had shown him the way that life should have been, but he did not see it until he was alone in life.

Alys, Apne, and Skidrow alll had been with him to show him the way through life as well. They had all helped in their own ways and perhaps they were still alive. But he did not know, nor did he question where they were. He would not seek them or his past foals out. It was time to move on, time to make a way in the world for himself. He was an aging stallion that just wanted the peace of a herd once more, or even the quiet of friends would help him in his life.

[Swede]

Lonestar snorted a laugh. "Not all needs can or should be met, Patriot," he said, his tone just a tad cryptic. "And sometimes they are in conflict, and a choice must be made. Perhaps a band of fellows would be ideal in your situation, but as for myself, I have other plans in mind, and a herd does not fit nicely into them. You see, I'm looking for someone; I don't suppose you have-"

He paused, turning his head sharply at the distinct sound of unfamiliar hoofbeats. Another stallion, nearly as aged as Patriot and clearly no stranger to life's trials, was on the approach; not necessarily directly headed towards them, but it is usually equine nature to gravitate towards others. "Ask and ye shall receive... three's a crowd, is it not?" the skunktailed stallion said, momentarily sidetracked. He disliked being interrupted, however every stranger one met was a potential bearer of useful news, and could not be overlooked. Lifting his head slightly, he whickered a greeting to the chestnut stud, an open-ended invitation of sorts.

[bullseye]

Patriot eyed the younger stallion curiously as he made his cryptic statements, a look in his eye hinting at a deeper meaning to his every word. The young fella didn't give him time for a reply before diving into a query—one that was cut short by the broken cadence of another equine. The chestnut stallion plodded along with a curious gait, leading Patriot to question the soundness of his fellow stud's legs. The graying of the newcomer's coat and the scarring of his hide betrayed the stallion as another old timer.

Allegedly, with age came wisdom, but it seemed to Patriot that he and his chestnut counterpart had nothing to show but worn bodies. What could possess the young Lonestar to hang about two relics like themselves?

[Swede]

(ooc: Guess I'll skip dusty for now so we can keep things rolling)

Lonestar remained silent for a little while, observing the pair of time-worn stallions in his own keen way, the eye of a newly made cynic, where coltish innocence had not faded away entirely just yet. It would seem, however, that the chestnut newcomer was content to keep his distance for now, and Lonestar didn't see a need to force him into a conversation if he wasn't interested in one. Instead, he turned his attention back to Patriot. "So tell me," he said casually to the black stallion, "Are you new to these parts, or have you lived here for a long time? I can't say I've seen you around, but up until recently I hadn't really seen much of anything outside the valley, and there are plenty of horses lurking in every corner of the backcountry, bit of a challenge to get to know them all." Hmph, that was an understatement... he had a name and a description and still couldn't find that individual, nevermind try to discover the details of every random stranger. It only made his mission all the more difficult, and his resolve all the stronger.

[bullseye]

Patriot found himself relieved as Lonestar restored the conversation. Silence was excellent if he had time to himself, but so long as the young 'un and his fellow senior remained near, Patriot wished to keep his composure. The black stallion just wished Lonestar had picked a less painful and complicated topic.

"I... have passed through these parts before, but it's been many years since I last saw this land. Around eight, if I recall correctly."

Of course he did--guilt refused to grant him mercy in the form of a faulty memory.

"I can't say the place has changed much. It's still the same, beautiful Sunshine River that I used to know." He managed a weak smile.

"You're from around here, then, son?" Patriot delightedly passed the conversation back to the liver chestnut stud.

[Swede]

It sounded as if this one was a traveler by trade, and one who had no recent experiences of the local regions... how marvelously useless it was to talk to him, then. It was looking more and more unlikely that this conversation would prove worthwhile at all. Still, Lonestar supposed there was no sense in being rude and calling off the endeavor. He'd initiated a friendly talk with this stranger, and to walk off now would just look bad. He didn't need to be making enemies... not unless it was necessary.

"Well, I guess so, yeah," he answered, glancing over his shoulder towards the mountains, fogged by distance. "I was... raised... in Wild Horse Valley, Vesperanzo's herd." Pausing, Lonestar considered whether to further add to that or to keep his story to himself. He figured in the end, it didn't matter; it wasn't actually a big deal to talk about yourself when someone asked about you. It would probably seem more odd to be evasive, really. "I wasn't actually born there, but it's all I remember. I was... a mare found me, and ended up raising me in that territory," the dark chestnut stallion said with a shrug. Iliana had of course conveniently forgot to mention that he was adopted... he'd known Vesper wasn't his sire all along, but to be told your so-called mother had just found you discarded in a field and dragged you home, and then lied to you and raised you to believe you really were her foal, that was a bit of an unpleasant shock. "I've been traveling for a bit though, just around these local parts. Getting to know the region outside the grassy hole-in-the-earth I'm from, meeting other horses, all that fun stuff, I guess."

[bullseye]

Vesperanzo... Not a name Patriot knew at all. But the black stallion supposed most everything had changed since his departure. He wondered which of the neighboring stallions he would have known had he not disappeared from Sunshine River all together. Who would have been his rivals? Who would have been his allies?

Eh, what did it matter?

A sentimental fool in his old age, Patriot felt his heart ache for the lad standing before him. Perhaps the young stallion's goal in telling his sad tale was manipulation, but Patriot couldn't help feel a fondness toward the fellow.

'You're an old coot,' he thought to himself.

With a nod, Patriot voiced his approval, "It's wise, knowing your surroundings. A stallion has to move on from their homeland. Can't stay in one place."

Sure, that didn't sound like a justification.

"I don't suppose in all of this travelling that you've found them? Your parents?"


(OOC: Don't mind the blah.)

[Swede]

Lonestar emitted a soft snort. "No, not exactly. I did find a crazy old hag who insisted I could only be the son of one Syn, who in turn is the son of some Cryptic fellow... they sound like a rotten bunch by her description. Was this lovely skunktail that tipped her off." He paused momentarily, flicking his white-striped tail demonstratively. "Family trait apparently. She showed me the way to someone named Spider, half brother according to her. He was skunky enough for me to believe it, I guess.. scummy little thing though, skulking in the shadows. Seems I don't have quite the fairytale family I could've hoped for."

He fell silent for a moment, and then shook his head with a scornful chuckle. "I wasn't expecting much, though. What kind of mare would abandon her newborn? If what I hear about my sire is true, she probably didn't volunteer for the job, but still... She left an innocent foal to die. She's no saint, whoever she is." Lonestar exhaled softly, gazing sideways to the fog of the horizon. "I just hope I can find her. Dunno how, but I'm not ready to give up yet."

[bullseye]

Patriot pricked his ears a tad as Lonestar dropped Cryptic's name. While the black stallion had fortunately managed to avoid any involvement with the tyrant during his years in Sunshine River, the black-hearted stallion was something of a legend... and not in a good fashion. His dark deeds were known to spread down the grapevine like a fire enveloping everything in its path. And somehow, this charming lad was related to the fiend. This new knowledge put Patriot a tad on edge.

Old habits only dying with effort, however, a stab of guilt struck his heart when Lonestar mentioned his abandonment. While Patriot knew that his foals had more of a chance at survival than baby Lonestar did, he somehow felt no better than Lonestar's deserter of a dam. Guilt renewed, he almost let his Cryptic related worries drop. Almost.

Torn between justification and regret, Patriot stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the young stallion's appearance. He looked travel weary, but not unhealthy. Still young, his muscles hadn't completely filled out just yet, though the older stallion suspected Lonestar's gypsy lifestyle didn't permit for a bulky physique. So much was hidden behind the liver chestnut stud's eyes, but he kept his emotions veiled. Patriot, however, imagined a nasty concoction comprised of hatred, loneliness, and determination.

Though a desire to leap to Lonestar's dam's defense did surface in Patriot's mind, he knew it wasn't his place. He couldn't understand what drove the mare to leave her son to die, but memories of his own foals reminded him of the preciousness of youth. Nirvana's little face in particular lingered in his head--he supposed Lonestar's resemblance to his own liver chestnut daughter brought that about. Picturing her--abandoned and alone--did little to encourage him towards Lonestar's unnamed mother.

"Why would you want to find her, son? Why not just find some mares of your own and forget her? She doesn't deserve to see her colt all grown up when she didn't even assist him in getting there." Bitterness tainted the dark stallion's voice, his hatred towards himself only exacerbated by Lonestar's tale.

[Swede]

Lonestar snorted softly, his gaze hardening. "You might be right; perhaps she doesn't deserve it. But I don't intend to give her the benefit of any level of pride. She'd better have a damned good excuse for her actions if she wants that. No, I want to prove to her that despite her efforts, I'm still here. I made it and I didn't even need her in doing so. She might not deserve me, but I think I deserve an explanation, and a face to represent everything I want to avoid becoming."

The young stallion flicked his ears in bitter resentment. The longer he had been on his own, traveling in an apparently futile search, the more spiteful he had felt. Initially, he had only wanted answers, perhaps some reasonable excuse that would validate his existence somehow. Something to make him meaningful- perhaps his parents had been loving and kind, and outside forces had caused a tearful separation from their long-awaited son. Silly, he had always known that, but still he held out hope. With every shrap of evidence he gained, however, that possibility became less and less probable, and by now he knew just how truly ridiculous it was. They had been scumbags, both of them; with his sire's whereabouts unknown even by those who had been closest to him, his dam was all he had left. Deep down, Lonestar wanted to prove to himself that she really was as low as he had come to believe, and that his anger was justified. But he also was afraid; what if she had lived a happy life since then? That was perhaps his worst fear, that she had not suffered any guilt, or any karmic punishment, and had carried on without regret, leaving him as a forgotten non-entity in a field somewhere.

"My... the mare who raised me, she wanted me to carry on with life like everyone else. Like you said- find some mares of my own and whatever else one does," he said softly, shaking his head. "But how can I do that? I can't simply ignore the giant void that is my existence. It would... it just wouldn't be possible." It would probably drive him insane; already it gnawed at his subconscious every waking moment, the irritation of not knowing, the simmering anger at those who had wronged him... the creeping fear that this anger was not justified. Some might think it was the genetic instability in his family lines that surfaced, but those would have to have detailed knowledge of that heritage, and Lonestar certainly didn't know all that much about it; in any case, surely it was a natural reaction to a situation such as his own.

[bullseye]

Lonestar's fiery answer gave Patriot a new thought to contemplate: what if his foals sought an explanation, just as much as this lad? What if one day Nirvana and Fury resurfaced, hunting down their deserter sire, begging to understand why he would leave them behind? He didn't know how he could explain the circumstances that led to his disappearance. It was... complicated. Beyond even his grasp, in some ways.

Terror rapidly seeking to get a grip on his mind, Patriot attempted to shove away his thoughts and focus on his fellow stud. Lonestar spoke with sheer determination, his eyes set ablaze with passion forged in the fires of loneliness. There was little doubt in Patriot's mind that this stallion would find what he sought.

Regardless, something in Lonestar's way of thinking felt wrong to Patriot. It made sense that the lad wanted to understand who his parents had been and what had led them to ditch him, but his dismissal of creating a family of his own didn't sit right with the black stallion. He spoke as if there was nothing to gain from mares and foals to call his own, but Patriot knew from experience that the benefits of a herd eclipsed the negative.

Bearing in mind that this lad had blood connections to Cryptic, Patriot kept his phrasing delicate. No need to push any of this kid's buttons.

"You might be surprised to find the void your parents left dwarfed by the love a family of your would bring. Don't discount a traditional life, son."

With a sigh, Patriot dismounted from his soapbox and moved on. "What's your next step? Where do you intend to find this dam of yours?"

[Swede]

Lonestar watched the other stallion passively. There was no point in trying to explain his feelings to him; he could not understand. He had a family, until they turned out to be liars. If you ate bad grass, you could not simply shrug and see if the next bite was any better; you had to cure the colic first. In any case, it simply seemed irresponsible to let a would-be foal killer roam about in the world, not being forced to answer for her actions. By all accounts, his sire had been a menace, but he had not been seen for a long time, and if he was even still alive, he was presumably far out of reach. If Lonestar ever met him, he would be forced to accept the consequences of his actions; in the meantime, he could not simply give up. Who knew what others might suffer if he chose to be ignorant? What was the point in raising a family of his own if the world was not yet free of those who could harm it?

Patriot did have one point that could prick at Lonestar’s consciousness, however, and he glanced away with a slightly sheepish expression. “I have no idea, to be honest. Nobody knows who she is, and apparently I resemble my sire closely enough that chances are I’m too different from her to recognize her by appearance alone. The best course of action I’ve got is to just keep digging. Travel, ask questions, talk to strangers, like when I’ve talked to you. Perhaps nothing will turn up; for all I know she could be dead already. But I figure someone out there will know of a friend who ‘lost a foal’ she hadn’t wanted in the first place, or have come across someone with a grudge against Syn, or… something. If I keep searching, I might turn up empty-handed; if I give up, then I’ll definitely know nothing. And it’s too early to accept ignorance yet.”

[bullseye]

Since the loss of his last herd years ago, Patriot had taken to wandering as a member of various bachelor herds. As an older stud—less capable of challenging fellow studs than he had been—it seemed that wandering with more youthful stallions for protection and companionship was a wise move. Not that the black stud considered himself weak, by any means, he just lacked the motivation to defend a herd of mares and foals. It had once seemed prudent, claiming mares and producing offspring, but now it felt nothing short of redundant. He'd done so after his departure from Sunshine River out of habit and need of something to do.

Perhaps, if he could prove to himself that he wasn't a total failure, find Firedancer or even Nirvana... Just maybe he'd convince himself to do it all again. Though the management of a large herd seemed unlikely, a small herd might at least give him something to do until his final days.

His desire for a life, a herd, led him to ponder Lonestar's choice for his own existence. How could the younger stallion stand devoting all his time to discovery of these unknown parents? It seemed like such a hollow lifestyle. The older stallion weighed the lad's chances of realizing his longtime goal; it seemed unlikely, but not impossible.

Weariness was beginning to put an ache in Patriot's bones, making standing on the rocky terrain unpleasurable. How had age managed to sneak up on him as it had done? It seemed not long ago that he'd been in his youthful prime, capable of taking on anything. That hadn't stopped him from leaving his herd, of course. So much for devotion.

Shifting his weight to relieve the painful pressure on his near side, Patriot relied on his far for the time being.

With a thoughtful nod, Patriot's gaze remained fixed on the lad ahead of him. “And yet, you intend to remain alone the whole time, son? Seems a dangerous move.”

[Swede]

Lonestar shrugged. "I guess nobody back home wanted to come with me. And why should they? Their lives are great," he said, a delicate hint of bitterness traced through his words. The young stallion looked away, smiling faintly. "There are not many who would be interested in joining me. Most whom I've spoken to have voiced similar concerns as you- what a waste of time, they say. They would rather squabble amongst each other in some attempt to impress admiring fillies, or harass older stallions. Chasing mares and producing foals they have no genuine desire to care for, that's their idea of a life. You talk of the love of a family, old man; well that dream is a scarce one in my demographic, something that is a burden to them, a secondary result of their primary goals. They take no interest in my cause, and that is just as well, because I want nothing to do with them, and to me it is a tragedy that they ever manage to reproduce."

Bachelor colts; he hated most of them. How many lost foals like himself were born each year through such stupidity? Foals needed someone who genuinely wanted them, and cared for them out of love, not obligation, not necessity, not pity. Lonestar had no time for those who perpetuated the ideals he rebelled against, idiots who would just slow him down in their constant distractability.

[bullseye]

There was no denying it, Patriot had seen what Lonestar described. What was a young stallion but testosterone? Their primary goal was to show off, get the mares, and produce large quantities of offspring. Survival of the species demanded it, but oft times, it had a negative impact on the mental well-being of a stallion's foals.

Abandonment likely did as well.

The black stud diverted his eyes, a part of him fighting to deny this unfortunate truth. But perhaps the lad was right: maybe a loving, stable family was but a dream. After all, Patriot sure hadn't managed it for long.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the negative thought process, Patriot turned back to Lonestar. The older stallion fixed his younger counterpart with a contemplative look. The pessimism of the liver chestnut stud did not seem to have a desirable affect on Patriot's emotional state, but regardless, the dark stud found an offer forming on the tip of his tongue. Asking didn't guarantee anything—Lonestar could reject Patriot's request.

“How would you feel about the companionship of an older stud? 'Old man' I may be, but I'm not yet frail enough to lie down and die. And yet, I lack the 'distractability' you speak of.”

The black stallion's reasoning was mostly selfish, he knew. With a younger stud by his side, Patriot knew he stood a better chance of living through each given night. It was a risk; traveling outside of a herd meant increased the odds of dying a painful death. But maybe, just maybe, traveling Sunshine River would give the elderly stallion the closure he needed.

[Swede]

Lonestar blinked and glanced up at the rugged black stallion. The possibility of companionship wasn't really one he had considered much; after his initial early dismissal of the concept as a waste of time, he'd never looked deeper into the matter, or ever had reason to do so. His initial impulse was to say no- but there wasn't necessarily anything against the idea. He'd just gotten used to being on his own, and had viewed his journey as a solo one since he started out on it. Perhaps his initial convictions had been hasty.

"I don't think I would mind it," cocking his head slyly as he observed Patriot, wondering whether he might have something up his sleeve that Lonestar ought to be aware of. "That is, providing the old man doesn't mind tagging along on what is probably a wild goose chase. I won't have myself held back. But if you can keep up, you're welcome to accompany me until you find something better to do."