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Description
Origin Prompt - Original Form

It was in a dark crack of the conservatory, where the salt water thinned into a coniferous trough. She was ‘patrolling’, her stalwart way of wandering aimlessly around. Whenever her pace took on a march, thoughts would begin to emerge. Remnants of the familiar, lost with her original body. They were eerie but at the same time comforting, and so the marine esk would hardly mind.

Until the day she explored that dark crack.

Her free yet secluded thoughts felt a tug. The light of her little water cave dimmed over the luminescent fungi, and something felt present. She wasted no time. Taking on a hardened stance, she looked around. Where was the threat? What eyes did she feel? Then, from a small shadow up above, she found it. A small soul coated in oozing fungus. What a joke. If she were off duty, she would laugh.

It’s small, red eyes followed her mischievously, but she could only scoff. What a tiny creature. She was fast. She was strong. What could it do?

Another tug, pealing at the back of her mind.

Something dreadful poured in with a cold chill. She pulled out from the water onto a rock. Was something lurking there? A poison? She crushed a fungus bulb with her foot. The fauna died regularly. Then what? What else was down there, making her head spin and her stomach churn? What made her nauseous with fear?

She stared up at the pale little soul, still looking down on her. A wispy spiral of smoke hovered now above its head, and it blurred in her vision, head tilted in innocent curiosity towards the water. She followed its wide-eyed gaze into the dark ripples.

Hard red eyes stared back from underneath.

The surface of the water trembled and from the waving reflection emerged an unwavering, ghostly creature. A look of death stemmed from it, piercing above the surface of the water, dizzying any hope she had of standing upright.

She braced as the creature pulled itself from the depths. A horse. The shell of a determined steed. It dipped towards her in a familiar move, something she somehow knew to be scared of, and yet she couldn’t even flinch. Her head panged with the splitting ache of old memories clamoring at the skull’s walls.

It pulled closer still and whispered. “Mina …. Masa… “

She could only hear so much through the pounding of her heart.

The weight lifted slowly, like concrete from a basin. Once gone, her focus returned. The cave and the glowing fungi sat innocuously before her, still and calm. She looked up where the smaller esk had stood and saw nothing, but the trace of a cruel laugh tainted the air, as though said while she was stunned a blur of minutes ago.

She was not an esk to admit to fear, so she took the message as a name. MinaMasa, she goes by, not yet knowing what it means. And she never questioned the oddly familiar steed who opposed her from the recesses of her mind and the many nightmares after, for no warrior takes a loss that easily.

Socket belongs to rejamrejam
MinaMasa belongs to me

Esks are a closed species: ThoseWhoWentMissing

Description
Origin Prompt - Original Form

It was in a dark crack of the conservatory, where the salt water thinned into a coniferous trough. She was ‘patrolling’, her stalwart way of wandering aimlessly around. Whenever her pace took on a march, thoughts would begin to emerge. Remnants of the familiar, lost with her original body. They were eerie but at the same time comforting, and so the marine esk would hardly mind.

Until the day she explored that dark crack.

Her free yet secluded thoughts felt a tug. The light of her little water cave dimmed over the luminescent fungi, and something felt present. She wasted no time. Taking on a hardened stance, she looked around. Where was the threat? What eyes did she feel? Then, from a small shadow up above, she found it. A small soul coated in oozing fungus. What a joke. If she were off duty, she would laugh.

It’s small, red eyes followed her mischievously, but she could only scoff. What a tiny creature. She was fast. She was strong. What could it do?

Another tug, pealing at the back of her mind.

Something dreadful poured in with a cold chill. She pulled out from the water onto a rock. Was something lurking there? A poison? She crushed a fungus bulb with her foot. The fauna died regularly. Then what? What else was down there, making her head spin and her stomach churn? What made her nauseous with fear?

She stared up at the pale little soul, still looking down on her. A wispy spiral of smoke hovered now above its head, and it blurred in her vision, head tilted in innocent curiosity towards the water. She followed its wide-eyed gaze into the dark ripples.

Hard red eyes stared back from underneath.

The surface of the water trembled and from the waving reflection emerged an unwavering, ghostly creature. A look of death stemmed from it, piercing above the surface of the water, dizzying any hope she had of standing upright.

She braced as the creature pulled itself from the depths. A horse. The shell of a determined steed. It dipped towards her in a familiar move, something she somehow knew to be scared of, and yet she couldn’t even flinch. Her head panged with the splitting ache of old memories clamoring at the skull’s walls.

It pulled closer still and whispered. “Mina …. Masa… “

She could only hear so much through the pounding of her heart.

The weight lifted slowly, like concrete from a basin. Once gone, her focus returned. The cave and the glowing fungi sat innocuously before her, still and calm. She looked up where the smaller esk had stood and saw nothing, but the trace of a cruel laugh tainted the air, as though said while she was stunned a blur of minutes ago.

She was not an esk to admit to fear, so she took the message as a name. MinaMasa, she goes by, not yet knowing what it means. And she never questioned the oddly familiar steed who opposed her from the recesses of her mind and the many nightmares after, for no warrior takes a loss that easily.

Socket belongs to rejamrejam
MinaMasa belongs to me

Esks are a closed species: ThoseWhoWentMissing