The harlot advanced across the cartography, lances slung as a minute foal scampered in a lively matter at her flints. A snort resonated from her narettes as she glanced down fervently, taking in the image of her only son - for now. She had heard word of another within Aurelian, another she had yet to meet. Erida regained her status, shivs unsheathed, cerebellum held high, as the hellion continued his ambled gait - not yet stumbling, but showing great difficulty in keeping up with his matron. Her plumage whisked about his stern visage, showing such a stony edifice even at the young age. She snorted once more, controlling her vocal chords as a shriek attempted to rip from her bodice; Erida would not tolerate such treason to her whereabouts, nor would she herself throw the co ordinances out to the world. Visionaries scaled the mountainous region which she would have to journey, noting the deep denotations in the earth here and there, the inescapable passes which she would have to remember. Hearkens twitched as a voiceless instrument echoed within her, not yet heard by the world, but she could reminisce its beauty within a split-second of its being called upon. Abutments moved rhythmically, carrying her corpse across the land. They moved in a never-ending motion, up and down like strings being plucked on a mandolin.


They were of great importance, the two, and never did they forget that. Even Nevermore, in his young age, came to understand the need for his mother and him upon this hellish Earth. He stumbled again, catching a pedestal in the thick undergrowth as he struggled to regain his composure. His petite whipcord chastised his caudal, whipping the nigrescent flesh as the wind persisted against his skin. A growl of annoyance slunk from his chest cavity, but not a sound was detectable in the high wind; A fortunate thing, too, for the hellion. Had his mother heard such a defiant noise, Nevermore would have been punished. The foal had no idea where the matriarch was leading him, but of course it must be somewhere important. Never did she do something if it had no effect on their lives, their hellish, never-ending lives. Even at 1 000 rotations, Nevermore had much to learn about the world, for 1 000 was merely the equivalent of one year for the mortals. He could not tolerate it, nor could he fully grasp why he was born into such a torturous life.

Nevermore. Chin up, my dear boy. We will arrive soon. These mumblings were not to be thought as of kind, nor comforting. She was merely stating facts like a lawyer upon the stand. Stanchions churned, slowing down only a fraction as the hussy surveyed sweat upon her son’s capillary strands. Such weakness would not be tolerated, and he would be trained harder later. But for now, he must relieve the stress upon his petite gammes. Aerials dipped, laying to her death cap as the zephyr pushed its way through her dreadlocks. The two were similar, but not congruent in their different markings and size patterns. Erida’s spot-drenched coat was more traditional, blanketed only upon her well-muscled rump, while Nevermore’s ebon coat featured leopard drops descended his nape to accumulate upon his bleached dorsal stripe; a feature given to him by his Father, the Nameless One. His wings were more adapted than Erida’s, and even she felt a twinge of jealousy when she glared down at his pristinely conditioned hyde. He was the perfect image of utopia, from his accurately chiseled muscles to the gorgeously immaculate tendrils that blanketed his serpentine.

Erida was of an envious approach to equinism as well, though her figure featured more Appaloosa lineage than that of the Friesian she had inherited only partly. A touch of Paso Fino was visible under her nigrescent blanket as well, though the spots had dubbed her Appaloosa. Her twisted forelock cascaded anything but neatly into a wave of unruly dreadlocks, tinged with an alabaster stripe like the famous Barber, Sweeney Todd. The deep curve of her spinal column gave way to a well-muscled caud, completed with a thick strand of follicles that completed her whipcord. Although haggard she may sound, Erida was the image of Beauty. Any wandering patriarch would consider such a feminine being untouchable, though many have tried; and failed. All but a select few, namely Iron Man and…The Nameless One. She remembered him perfectly, although the crazed nature of her cerebrum would conceive other thoughts immediately. How The Nameless One pleased her, sweetly but suspiciously doting upon his beauty with the greatest interest. The Friesian, the father to the one called Nevermore, was the missing piece to the complicated puzzle that was Erida. Ha! How the name seemed now, a nom de plume, an incomplete calling, as if that one word could summon up the siren. It was almost ridiculous to consider that the Queen was merely a horse; Merely, I think not. For nothing was “mere” about the dear girl. But that story will follow.


Air sacks inflated and deflated quickly as Nevermore advanced clumsily at his mother’s hocks, maneuvering as she did around rocks and boulders as quick as the drop of a pin. He heard her words, Chin up, my dear boy. We will arrive soon., though he could hardly believe them. Sweat dripped from every pore, every damned crevice in his flesh silky with perspiration. The least she could let him do was…rest. Ah! Dear rest! His muscles and joints ached for it, they had been traveling days- months- years. Who knew how long? Certainly not he, with his stammering mind persisting while the rest of him continued. Out of habit, perhaps. It had gone into a pattern, slightly, and rest would be a strange thing. What without the benefit of game or claret, his poor bodice was parched to a mere withering mess. Did she wish to kill him? Out of spite for the itinerate, Nevermore decided this answer was yes, she did indeed intend to rid him of this wretched world. Or perhaps it had something to do with Father. He could see how she abhorred the thought of his Leaving, though he, who she called ‘The Nameless One’, the one whose name was held from him, the demon’s own son! Perhaps it was something more; perhaps it was Iron Man, who his mother had met in the far off land of RoS. She had quite an infatuation with him, not that Nevermore would know. He had been shut out from information, especially regarding the dark figure he knew only as his Father.