on the brink of a hurricane

[Io]

Io.

{ type } a horse of the Equinox {fell x dartmoor x brumby}

{ age } three

{ colour } Deep, fiery chestnut that glows like a bloody autumn sunset, with deep blue speckling around her shoulders and face that can almost seem to glow in certain lights.

{ height } small for her type, standing at twelve one

{ gender } sweetheart

{ deformity } she is flawed and wild and unpredictable, she sees things, hears things, whispers of lost souls and things that lie in wait in the dark, what has been and what may still be to come and some things that are just lost in limbo, somewhere between the living and the dead. She has the disease they call schizophrenia. There are sometimes long periods of time between the episodes, times of normality, but when they come (and they always do), they can last for days, weeks, months, even, and she is eaten by the madness within.

{ wind } call me north


So afraid, so very afraid. Always running. Deep breaths, heart dancing inside her ribcage, breaking, breaking. Skidding to a halt, sidestepping, looking this way and that, eyes rolling, and silence, except the rattling lungs. And then a screaming whinny, shrieking. Hindquarters bunched, the soft russet ground ripping, gouged from the earth in a panic stricken flight.

The dark things...they’re coming.

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