It starts like all stories do, in the past, many ages ago, before you or I were born…
They were sisters—in some versions they were born of the same parents, in others they share one parent while another differs, and then they sometimes have chosen each other to be the siblings they had always wanted, perhaps needed—much like you and me. The eldest had in her the salt of sea waves, while the youngest was made of roots and earth. For all their differences, they were very much bound to one another. For while our world is obsessed with carnal pleasure and romance, there is more to love than either of those. And no one knew that better than them.
(Breach nuzzled each of her sisters, her cheek a shadowed sunset against the browns of dirt and bright green of growth. Standstill was so like their mother with her hair where Dreadwing had the wings of their mother. She adored the both of them, loved them as much as a sister could. Even quite regarded Final Rest as a potential father of sorts—not that she would ever bother to tell him—when she saw how clearly he cared for Giveforward.)
Eldest had rejected many a suitor in favor of her sister; Youngest had gone farther and shunned many a friend. It was a strong bond that they shared, perhaps too much so. For any bond can be preferential and while it may be true that is often unwise to neglect a love, it is also true that one can severe a union with too much allegiance. And smart as you are—and don’t we all think we are smart, far too wise to fall prey to the same follies told in tales such as this?—surely, you see how sad this will become. Unfortunately, they did not.
Luckily, there is happiness oft before tragedy. In their life they had long ago become adept at compromise.
In summer and winter, Eldest led the way to sea shore where the water’s temperature was a relief to the swelter and chill of land. Here, she was happiest, for in her dreams she was a seabird born to bask in the tumultuous waves of an ocean. Together with her sister, she was the embodiment of joy. She trashed in the water, caught fish in her teeth, killed shelled creatures with her hooves, and was as wild as her rollicking waves. The worry of her younger sister was no annoyance, instead it was much an amusement that spurred her daring even further. Eventually though it would come to an end, spring and autumn were her sister’s time.
Youngest was the leader to the land of growth and life. She found meadows of slick mud where yellowed grasses began to green. There were days of planting and nights spent side by side as the chill of winter slowly receded away. It was here that the little sister felt most content, for hooves—at least hers—had been made to stay on ground. It mattered now whether it was firm dirt, squelching mud, soft grass, or hard stone. She needed to be on land to feel grounded, for only with earth did she feel she had much ability at all. To grow and forage, that was her gift. And after spring, the autumn meant harvest. It was the only season where her belly was ever full, sweet apples and luscious watermelons dancing on her tongue before winter would bow and she’d have to deal with coarse, or fine, giving sand that left her unbalanced.
You might assume—and you’d be wrong, of course—that it was this pull that would start the cracks. It was not resentment that fed either sister. Eldest felt no consternation at following Youngest into the fields and forests, nor did Youngest feel any spite (nausea, that was another story) being at the ocean’s side. Rather it was a blindness, an absence, that fissured deep in their hearts. For in following each other, they had chosen their hearts—each other—over their souls. Is that right, or is that wrong, you might wonder, but the there is no answer. Only choices and sometimes choices change.
Where Youngest suffered worry at her sister’s home, Eldest suffered longing and worse. She felt useless and wrong. The meadows and forests were not her home, had never been, and as time wore on the balm of her sister-heart began to diminish. One can love, one can be grateful, and yet one can still take for granted. For Youngest and Eldest were always together. They knew nothing of missing each other and when one never misses a love, you forget how lucky and blessed you are. And where Eldest always had her heart full, she was devoid of half her soul. Winter came with promise; a promise is always dangerous, it a magic that never lets go.
The ocean greeted the sisters as it always had. And Eldest reveled. Each day, she sunk further into the waves, swam further out. Youngest was always there to greet her when she came back. Heart versus soul, the longing for one easily outweighed the other. Where Eldest was affectionate and loving, she was much more reckless as each dawn beckoned her into the water. When there was a gray dawn, dark clouds rolling in and flashes of lightning echoing thunder claps, Eldest kissed her sister’s cheek and leapt into the angry sea. That day, was one of choice.
Eldest swam, she had long ago stopped touching the bottom. As waves crashed into her body, salt coating her fur, she laughed in delight. This was where she was at her best. Here was her true home. And even when the waves rose, towering like mountains only to crack down like stones upon her body, she did not turn back. Rather she reveled in the rush of adrenaline. Even then, she thought of nothing but the ocean. Each day meant one day less she would be here. Soon she would leave with Youngest even though she wanted nothing but to stay.
“I want to be here forever,” she thought just before she was pushed, violent, down beneath the churning sea water. Underneath was a world of calm, a world unknown, and where fear should have crept up, the thought only grew stronger. And never let anyone tell you the Motherfather is not listening, for they are, always, and you must be careful. Where they are kind, they always teach lesson. And so they came, in the guise of a creature—sleek skinned with wide eyes, It spoke. It offered eternity to Eldest. While it had never been healthy before, for the sisters to always think of each other, neither was it healthy to think of only themselves. But then we would have no story. So Eldest agreed. The creature, fore-fins splayed to the side as it hovered still in the water, stared and in the instance, yes she knew her mistake. She thought of Youngest, waiting on the beach all alone. And she knew. But it was far too late now.
The once docile, friendly creature, opened Its mouth to reveal sharp teeth. A set of sharp canines ripped into Eldest’s throat. Above the sea, shimmering, teased the sun as it tried to shine from behind thick storm clouds. And it that was the end of one life, as her blood swirled amongst salt and her body was claimed by the predators of the deep. The Motherfather had offered and Eldest indeed became of the sea. Water was eternal and yet trapped.
What became of Youngest, perhaps there is a tale about that. One of grief and losing half of one’s heart. There may be many. Or none at all. Of this, though, we know that life must be balanced. And that is why the ocean, guided by the wind, rushes towards the earth. It is a longing, never fulfilled. A sister reaching out for a touch that is never returned. A heart reaching for its other half.
(The doe sighed, looking down at the slumbering fillies that rested against her chest. She had long ago found that there was no home without heart. While the ocean was her home, so, too, was the Swamp for it had her family. Mother and Takeback, her siblings, and now these new ones as well. Perhaps life never did work out to expectation--she thought of an acha, he had broken her heart, she knew now--but it only gave what one needed. Pain to know happiness, heartache to know love. Loneliness to know family. She wondered what else the Motherfather would teach her...)