Horse Eden : Hudie x NightClan

January 24, 2025 09:47 PM

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Jora gripped the doorframe, her knuckles white from the effort, but the metal was hot beneath her fingers. She pulled back, hissing in pain, and then tried again, this time using the heel of her boot to smash against the control panel. Sparks flew as the door slid open, but it didn't lead to the hallway she expected. The corridor was blocked, debris from the explosion spilling out into the cramped space like some twisted barricade.

Her breath quickened. "Sage... Where are you?" The words barely left her lips before a new wave of dizziness crashed over her. She staggered back, clutching at her side where the pain was intensifying. *No time for this*, she thought. She pushed the wave of nausea aside, focusing on the flickering emergency lights down the hall.

The whole ship was groaning, like it was on the edge of breaking apart. The walls vibrated with each new tremor, but there was no time to think about that now. Her thoughts were consumed by Sage. *Where the hell are you?* She could feel the cold sweat collecting on her skin, could hear the ship’s alarms blaring through the metal walls, but the ache in her chest, the gnawing emptiness where Sage's presence should’ve been, drowned it all out.

She tried calling out for him, her voice rasping with panic, "Sage! Please—" But there was no answer. No familiar sound of his footsteps, no hint of his steadying presence.

Jora's heart thudded harder, desperation setting in. She could hear others now—cries of confusion, footsteps scrambling, but none of them were *his*. She forced herself to take a breath, shoving the panic away. *Focus*. She had to find him.

Turning sharply, she made her way toward the aft section of the ship, where their quarters had been, praying against all odds that he was there. Her body screamed in protest with every step, but she ignored it, pushing herself harder. The ship’s vibrations grew stronger, the walls creaking with every movement, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

When she reached the junction that led to the engine room, a strange, nauseating heat wafted toward her. She stumbled to the side, holding her stomach, her vision blurring. There was no way she could get through there without risking serious injury—or worse.

She was so close, but still, no sign of him. She slid down the wall, sweat pooling at her brow. *Where are you, Sage?*

Forcing herself back to her feet, Jora scanned the room. The lights flickered overhead, casting everything in a ghostly pallor, and it made her gut twist. She knew this part of the ship too well. The deeper she went into the heart of it, the more twisted and unstable it became. She couldn’t even hear her own breathing above the shrieking metal around her.

But there was still no answer.

“Sage!” Her voice cracked on his name as it echoed off the walls, swallowed by the chaos of the failing ship.

January 24, 2025 10:27 PM

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Sage had struggled to get back up to the waters surface, doing his best to avoid the debris that had fallen around and above him. Sure, he was half sea nymph, and was a strong swimmer, but he could see blood around him now, and was probably hurt. He wasn't sure how bad, since he was still focused on finding Jora. Just praying she was alright. Her and the baby.

He struggled to rise to the surface, but kept getting knocked deeper by wood and metal shards from the belly of the ship. He could hold his breath longer than most, but even so after a few minutes he could feel his body weakening. Alowling down as his brain crowd out of oxygen.

He used his last bit of energy to grab a floating barrel and haul himself up onto it, just as his vision went dark. He managed to cough up some stuff and flop against the barrel, taking huge gulps of air as his vision came back.

He tried to move, but just sagged against the barrel with a wheeze. He clearly couldn't do much more. He angled the barrel into. A current though, blinking blood out of his eyes as he tried to make his way back towards the ship. Towards Jora. He was snagged from the water though, onto the rival ship.

He fought beat he could, but was quickly overwhelmed. He'd gotten knocked out at some point, and woke in a cell later, body screaming at him as he tried to move. Everything hurt like hell ... apparently he'd been hurt worse than he's thought. A sudden bolt of panic hit him, and he scrambled to the window, panic rising in his throat.

There was nothing there. No ship on the horizon, nothing to signal anything but death. The boat was completely fallen apart, it's sails burning and supplies floating on the water. He saw no signs of life. His mind froze then, as the reality of the situation hit him, and his legs gave way under him. No...no this couldn't have happened.

He told himself she was strong, that she would survive, as would the baby. But he didn't believe himself. No...he was on his own again. Back right where he started, in shackles. He wasn't even sure he cared.

January 24, 2025 10:37 PM

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Jora’s voice died in the silence that followed, and the oppressive weight of the ship’s groans felt like a physical thing pressing in on her chest. She wiped her forehead, her fingers slick with sweat, eyes scanning the shadows. *Focus.* Every instinct screamed at her to run, to find a way out, but Sage was still somewhere inside this cursed wreck. She couldn’t leave without him.

As if on cue, a violent lurch rattled the floor beneath her feet, and she stumbled forward, barely catching herself on a broken piece of debris. The air shifted, a sudden pressure that made her stomach tighten in fear. Another tremor, more intense this time, and the whole ship seemed to buckle under the strain. The emergency lights flickered once more, then cut out completely, plunging her into near-complete darkness.

A shriek of metal tearing, followed by an explosive rush of air, made her heart stop. The whole ship shuddered, and Jora instinctively ducked, bracing herself against the wall, her hand gripping the cool metal, the world spinning violently around her.

Then—nothing.

The silence was deafening. She felt weightless for a moment, as though the floor had disappeared beneath her. The next thing she knew, she was tumbling through the air, the ship’s structure disintegrating around her, an all-encompassing roar in her ears. She gasped, instinctively reaching out, but it was too late. The void opened up beneath her, and she was falling.

A cold, searing wind slapped against her face, and then the cold, bitter embrace of the ocean hit her like a sledgehammer. Her lungs screamed as the water surged into her mouth, pulling her deeper. Her limbs, heavy with exhaustion, fought against the tide. She kicked, gasped, and swam, clawing her way to the surface as her body threatened to betray her. The taste of saltwater burned in her throat, and for a moment, she thought she might not make it.

But finally, she broke through the surface, gasping for air. The ship was gone—nothing left but a patch of debris floating lazily on the waves. Her eyes burned as she looked around, struggling to keep herself afloat. The sea stretched endlessly around her, black and indifferent. The night sky was devoid of stars, the moon hidden behind thick, roiling clouds.

*How?*

Her mind reeled, her head spinning as the waves rocked her. She felt the familiar pang of loss in her chest as her thoughts circled back to Sage. *Was he still inside?* Or was he gone too?

Her body was numb, but her instincts kicked in. She had to survive. She had to find land. She scanned the horizon, hoping, praying for a hint of something—a shadow against the endless blackness. And then, in the distance, she saw it: a small silhouette, a dark shape rising from the water, barely visible but undeniably there.

An island. An abandoned one, it seemed, and it was the only thing between her and certain death.

Pushing herself toward it, she forced her body to move, each stroke more painful than the last. Her head was throbbing, her limbs weak and uncooperative, but she couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when there was a chance of survival. Her vision blurred, the exhaustion almost taking over, but somehow, she made it to the shore.

She collapsed onto the sand, coughing up seawater and gasping for breath. The island was small, desolate, and silent. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only thing that filled her ears, a rhythm that pulsed in time with her frantic heartbeat. She lay there for a long moment, too exhausted to move, but the overwhelming sense of isolation was immediate. She was alone. She had no idea where she was, or if anyone would ever find her.

She curled into herself, the cold beginning to seep into her bones. She still didn’t know what had happened to the ship. Or to Sage.

But the island was her only chance now.

"Hang on, baby" she muttered to her large belly, her voice hoarse. "I’m not giving up. Not yet."

And so, Jora lay on the shore, her body battered and broken, but her spirit unyielding, as the night wrapped itself around her like a shroud.

January 24, 2025 11:24 PM

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Sage wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, staring at the empty wall of the ship, the reality of it all sort of just slapping him in the face over and over again. He'd finally had something...one small thing in a lifetime of misery, and now it was gone. Torn away from him and leaving not even a slim light of hope.

He didn't move when heavy footsteps moved down the hall, halting at the bars making the door to the small cell he was in. It was hardly bigger than the bathroom in the cabin...if he extended his arms put completely on both sides he could definitely touch both sides of the room. But he hadn't done that yet. None of the initial scouting that would lead to his escape. There was nothing to escape to. It would be pointless.

A cruel voice sounded, though it started off as a chuckle. "He don't look uncooperative now lads," it noted, a metal stick clanging the bars of the cell, making his pounding head swirl. He managed to hold it together enough to wait until they moved on, desperately trying not to throw up, but the nausea got the better of him and he coughed up the little bit he'd had in his stomach into the corner. Damnit. That didn't help anything.

He just moved to curl against the wall, in the opposite corner, closing his eyes in an attempt to escape reality. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, but the ship had eventually reached a port. Things got loud and busy then...and despite having healed enough to move without extreme pain or nausea, he certainly didn't do very well getting yanked to his feet and dragged off with a few various other captives. When he saw the auction block his heart sank. He'd been hoping for the guillotine, or maybe a hanging. This was even worse. But there was no stopping it. Nothing he could do. Nothing he really wanted to do, anymore.

January 25, 2025 09:40 AM

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The night stretched on, cold and endless. Jora lay still, her thoughts swirling, each one a sharp sting of worry or fear. But beneath it all, the steady rhythm of her breathing was punctuated by the occasional harsh hitch, as her body wavered between exhaustion and the overwhelming demands of the life growing inside her.

A sudden sharp pain shot through her abdomen, and she gasped, clutching at her swollen belly, her teeth gritting against the sudden intensity. *No,* she thought, her heart skipping a beat. *Not now.*

Her breath caught as the pain twisted through her, deep and visceral. She could feel the tightening, a slow pull that stretched through her lower back, followed by an almost unbearable pressure. She tried to steady herself, focusing on the feel of the sand beneath her hands, the cool breeze, the slow crash of the waves. But the tightening came again—stronger this time. Her body was betraying her. Her breath came in short, frantic bursts, the world blurring as her heartbeat thudded in her ears.

“Come on, Jora,” she muttered under her breath, trying to anchor herself in the present, to hold onto the small, fragile thread of control she had left. “You’ve been through worse.”

But this was different. This wasn’t a fight with enemies or the aftermath of explosions. This was the quiet, terrifying certainty of childbirth.

Her mind struggled to comprehend the implications. *The baby’s coming. Now? Here?* Her panic flared, but she forced herself to breathe through the contractions, each one pushing her further into unfamiliar terrain.

Another wave of pain rolled over her, and this time, she couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped her lips. Her legs trembled, and she had to fight not to crumble into the sand, her body on the edge of surrender.

“Please, please,” she whispered, her voice raw with desperation. *I can’t do this alone.* She clenched her jaw against the wave of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her. No, she couldn't afford to break down. Not now.

The island felt even more desolate in that moment, like a cold reminder of how utterly alone she was. No Sage to lean on, no one to help guide her through this pain. Just her and the baby.

The next contraction hit with such force she gasped, biting down on her lip to stifle the cry. Her hands moved instinctively to her belly, rubbing circles as though she could somehow calm the small life within her.

*I’m not giving up,* she reminded herself again, the words becoming a mantra, each breath a small victory. *I can do this.*

But then, just as she began to settle, another wave of pressure slammed through her, more insistent, more relentless. Her mind flashed with images of Sage, of the wreckage, of the silence that followed. *What if he didn’t make it?* The thought pushed her heart into overdrive, but she couldn’t let herself spiral.

Her pulse throbbed at her temples, her body still buckling with each contraction. She tried to shift her position, pushing up onto her hands and knees, but her limbs felt like lead.

“No…” Her voice cracked. “Not like this.”

But the pain was undeniable.

It came again, and this time it didn’t stop. It was relentless, rhythmic, an unstoppable wave crashing over her. She dug her fingers into the sand beneath her, gritting her teeth as her body shook.

*Focus, Jora,* she forced herself to think. *You can do this. You have to.*

Her legs trembled violently, and she managed to push herself into a sitting position, back leaning against the jagged rocks that bordered the island. The world around her felt distant now, her entire focus drawn inward. She could feel the baby’s movements, the small shifts inside her, the rhythm of life that still clung to her, as fragile and fierce as her own will to survive.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered again, her voice rough and cracked. “We’re gonna get through this.”

And with every ounce of strength, Jora held on, her breath catching between each wave of pain. Her body, battered and broken from the wreckage, responded in ways she didn’t fully understand. The contractions were coming faster now, harder, and she knew time was running out.

*She couldn’t stop it.*

She could only endure.

January 25, 2025 11:20 AM

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Sage had balked slightly when he realized what was happening, memories crashing over him in waves. Not this again. Anything... literally anything...than this. He'd thought things had gotten better. He'd thought everything was going to be ok. For him, for Jora, and for the new family they were forming.

Apparently he'd been foolish to hope.

He should have suspected it wouldn't last...he really was a walking jinx. His parents had died somehow, his sister as a baby, and now Jora. Which meant their baby would also have died. A wave of grief nearly knocked him off his feet, but by then he had been yanked forward again by the shakled around his wrists and neck.

He felt his hair be pulled back, and while his initial instinct was to yank his head away from whoever was touching him, not wanting to expose him as a creature rather than a human, he knew it wouldn't matter in the end.

He wasn't aware of much after that.... everything truly was just a wild blur. He could hear people yelling, and between that and the sun, as well as his exhaustion and grief...well, his head was pounding and he really just wanted to go back to his cell. That obviously wasn't happening, since he was dragged off again soon enough, with some dirty old woman.

He did catch the number he'd sold for though ..and it was rather pathetic he thought. You'd think he'd go for a little more than that at the very least. It was a fleeting thought though, and just numbly obeyed as a showy outfit was thrust into his hands and he was instructed on what his new job was. Or should he say, old job? He really wasn't sure what to think. He was back to this though, once again, and as the bottle of rum was placed in his hand, he just moved sullenly to change, wrinkling his nose at it but downing the bottle. If he was going to be doing this, at least he could drink enough to not remember most of it.

January 25, 2025 12:30 PM

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The night felt endless, the island a hollow expanse that stretched in every direction—empty, cruel. Jora’s breaths were shallow and uneven, but her grip on her body, her will to survive, was strong. She had to be strong for this child, even if every fiber of her being screamed out in pain, in fear, in the crushing weight of loneliness.

Her body arched again as another contraction tore through her, sharp and insistent. She felt her resolve begin to fray at the edges. *Please, not like this.* Her hands clawed at the rough sand beneath her, eyes wide in terror, trying to hold onto some semblance of control. But the pain was relentless.

It was then that she heard it—a faint voice carried on the wind, sharp and urgent. The faintest echo of life that wasn’t her own. Her head snapped toward the sound, eyes bleary, mind foggy. Through the haze, she could make out a figure, a silhouette coming toward her from the dense foliage near the beach.

A woman, her face etched with concern, moved toward Jora quickly, her steps sure and purposeful despite the chaos of the night.

“I'm here to help!” The woman called out, her voice a lifeline.

Jora's heart twisted painfully. She didn't know this woman, but in this moment, she felt the pull of human connection—the possibility of help, of *something*—and it was almost too much for her to process. “I… I need help,” Jora gasped, struggling to sit up further as the next contraction hit.

The woman—tall and strong, though clearly winded from the run—was already kneeling beside her, her hands warm against Jora’s clammy skin. Her presence was like a sudden light in a dark room, sharp and bright.

“Your baby, huh?” The woman’s voice was soft, and her hands were gentle as she moved over Jora’s abdomen, offering words of reassurance. “I’m here. We’re going to help you. I’ve helped deliver babies before.”

Jora blinked, her mind spinning, trying to grasp at the fragments of sense in her panic. She had never been this afraid in her life. She hadn’t thought she’d make it this far alone. And *Sage…* Her heart lurched, and for a moment, she nearly succumbed to the overwhelming grief and fear of what had been lost. Sage wasn’t here. Sage would never be here to see this.

The woman was quick, though, moving to position herself in front of Jora, her voice steady as she instructed her to breathe, to push when the time came. Each moment felt like it was happening in a fog, and yet the urgency couldn’t be ignored.

“Sweetie, listen to me,” the woman said firmly, gripping Jora’s hands. “I know you’re scared. But you’re not alone. We’re getting through this, okay? You’ve got this.”

Jora’s breath hitched as another contraction tore through her, each wave of pressure sending shockwaves of pain through her body. Her face twisted in agony, but she forced herself to focus on the woman’s steady presence, the firmness in her grip.

“*Please,*” Jora choked out, her voice raw. “I don’t—*I don’t want to do this alone. He’s gone. He’s never—*”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. The loss of Sage felt too sharp, too real. Her entire being was consumed by that loss, by the knowledge that the man she loved, the man who should’ve been here beside her, was gone. He wouldn’t see their child, wouldn’t be there to help her hold this life in her arms.

The woman’s eyes softened, her hand rubbing Jora’s arm. “I can’t bring him back,” she said gently, “but I can help you with this. You’ve already done the hardest part—getting this far.”

Jora’s breath faltered as the pressure inside her mounted again. She had no choice now. She couldn’t afford to break down, couldn’t afford to lose herself.

With all the strength she had left, Jora pushed.

The woman’s voice was a constant reminder that there was someone here now, someone who saw her through the haze of pain. “You’re doing great, Sweetie. Keep going. Push when you can.”

And Jora did. Every part of her screamed, her body rebelling against the demands, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t *not* do this.

The pain was almost unbearable, but amidst the chaos, there was a steady rhythm—the sound of a new life taking shape, of a future pushing its way into the world.

And as the baby’s first cry broke the silence of the night, Jora’s heart shattered and rebuilt itself all at once. The woman immediately wrapped the tiny, squirming body in a soft cloth, holding the baby out to Jora, who could barely process the miracle in her arms.

The tiny face was scrunched, eyes closed tightly against the world, but alive. Alive. The small, fragile being in her arms was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Through the blur of tears that filled her vision, Jora whispered, “You did it, little one. We did it.”

She didn’t have Sage here. But she had this. And for now, that was enough.

January 25, 2025 12:47 PM

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Sage wasn't aware of much after that initial day on the island. His days passed in a drunk stupor, going through bottle after bottle so he didn't need to be aware of what reality was taking place. It was all just...too much. The drink and the smokes dulled all that. Made everything a sort of whirlwind he could only partway remember.

When he wasn't out of his mind, he just wanted to curl up somewhere and never get up again. It was bad enough this was happening again...but now he felt guiltier than ever. What would Jora think if she could see him now? She'd likely hate him for it. He'd promised himself to her, and here he was, drinking himself silly and letting whoever wanted him have him.

He didn't really have a choice, of course, but that didn't make things any better. But he'd accepted that this was just how his life was going to be. It would always just be this. A lifetime of pain. And each time he thought things might be ok, they just got even worse again after that.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, he never left the tavern he was in. Never wore anything else but the showy clothing they handed him. Hardly ate or drank other than the heavy rum he always had in his hand.

He wouldn't last long this way....he knew that. He didn't particularly care. It wasn't like he was living anyway. He could feel himself going down as time passed though, and part of him deep inside wanted to keep going. But the rest of him just screamed for a break, for all this horrible stuff to end.

He always thought he could see or hear Jora too. A faint whisper, that got him hoping, and then it was gone. He had seen her, doing things in the kitchen, or smiling at him. Saying something sweet. And then when he blinked it was no one. Or even worse, it was someone just trying to flirt. Touching him. Kissing him. Doing whatever they decided they wanted to do. And he let them. There was nothing else he could do. He hated it...all of it...but he just kept downing the drink. At least he couldn't remember a good 80 percent of what was going on that way. The pain didn't seem so bad. So real.

January 25, 2025 12:54 PM

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Jora’s hands trembled as she clutched the tiny, squirming body in her arms, the heat of the baby’s skin pressing against her chest, but her thoughts were far from the miracle in her hands. *She did it. We did it.*

The words repeated like a soft chant in her mind, and yet the weight of the empty space beside her was suffocating. Sage wasn’t there. He should’ve been here. He should’ve been the first one to hold their child, to share this moment. Instead, she was alone. The hollow ache in her chest made it feel like she had failed him somehow, as though, in some way she couldn’t explain, she was supposed to carry this weight—*all* of it—on her own.

The woman beside her, Sage’s unexpected replacement, was still there. She had done what Jora hadn’t thought possible in her panic—she had kept her steady. She had guided her through those unbearable waves of pain and fear and had been the calm in the storm when Jora thought she would break.

But it wasn’t Sage’s hand holding hers. It wasn’t Sage’s voice that had been steady, guiding her. The loss settled back in her chest like a stone. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deeply to steady herself, to stop the tears that threatened to spill. *No. Not now. Not when you’re here, little one.*

The baby shifted slightly, squirming in the cloth, and for a moment, Jora just looked at the tiny, wrinkled face. She had always imagined the first time she would see her child’s face would be in the arms of the man she loved. Instead, she was staring into the eyes of a stranger—someone she had never asked for, but who had offered her something she couldn’t deny: help. *Strength.*

It was a strange feeling, this gratitude. It was at odds with everything she had planned. She hadn’t *wanted* this help. She had wanted Sage. She had wanted them to *do* this together.

But now, she was left with this fragile, perfect life in her arms, and the woman beside her—a stranger, yet somehow *not*. She was quiet now, her expression soft, but there was something familiar in the way she looked at Jora. Something steady.

Jora swallowed hard, finally meeting the woman’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw, unsure of how to say anything else.

The woman gave a small nod, her lips pressing into a tight line. “You’re welcome. But you did the hard part.”

Jora shook her head. *I wasn’t supposed to be here alone.* She wanted to say the words, but her voice wouldn’t come. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the baby in her arms, watching its tiny hands curl and uncurl. She wanted to cry—*she wanted to scream,* to let all of it out, the pain, the grief, the fear. But there was no time for that now. This child needed her. Needed *her.*

“I don’t know how to do this without him,” she whispered to the empty air, as if Sage were somehow still here, as if he could hear her. “He should’ve been here. *He should’ve been the one.*”

The woman’s eyes softened, but she didn’t speak, just knelt beside her, her presence a silent comfort. She didn’t have answers. No one did. Not for this.

But Jora’s chest tightened as she looked at her baby again. *He’s gone. Sage is gone. But this…* She glanced up at the woman. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Selene,” the woman replied, her voice quiet, but there was a tightness there, an undercurrent of something Jora couldn’t place.

Jora’s eyes flickered with a rawness she couldn’t hide. She had never felt this exposed. “I don’t want to do this without him. I didn’t think I could.” Her voice faltered, and she quickly wiped at the tears she hadn’t realized had started to fall.

The woman’s gaze softened, and she placed a hand gently on Jora’s shoulder, offering what little comfort she could. “I know. And you shouldn’t have to.”

But the cold, sharp reality settled over Jora like a heavy blanket. There was no going back. Sage was gone. The life they had built together was fractured. And it was *her*—only her—who would now hold their child.

For a moment, the world seemed impossibly large and empty, and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to go on without him by her side. But she felt the small, warm body in her arms again, its tiny heartbeat against her chest, and in that fragile moment, she knew—*this* was enough.

*This was enough to keep going.*

Her hands—trembling but resolute—held her baby tighter. “We’ll be okay,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure who she was saying it to.

And in the silence of the night, the baby cooed, a tiny, hopeful sound, and Jora allowed herself to hope, just a little bit, that maybe—*maybe*—she could figure out how to do this alone after all.

January 25, 2025 02:24 PM