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A strange sort of reverence seems to cling to any burial ground no matter of religion or creed of those burried inside. Even without formal tombstones or markers, an air of solemness and reverence hangs in the air. To some, who are too caught up in their own affairs, this air may very well go unnoticed, and disgrace may come to a graveyard and the spirits who rest within. But to others who are more attuned with such things, even an unmarked graveyard is absolutely unmistakable.

This graveyard in particular was rather unremarkable. A few old stones huddled together within the confines of a scrub-brush land at the base of hte mountains. To a casual viewer, they might appear as nothing more than rocks having fallen from peaks above. However, their spacing indicated otherwise. As did the reverence of the forest not to overtake this land. If there were ever any names inscribed on the rocks, the wind and rain had stolen them years ago. Now, just irregular shaped rocks speared out of the ground in surprisingly regular intervals.

However, this graveyard was remarkable in one aspect: it had a guardian. Whomever or whatever was burried deep in the earth must have been significant in some regards. The forest itself seemed to understand this. And whatever subconscious drive pushed the mare Brigitte to do what she did somehow knew this. For Brigitte had long ago lost most of whatever rational thoughts she once possessed. The skull on her face was no mask, and her body seemed to be comprised of nothing more than a rippling blackness over her bones. And in that swirling blackness, faces would sometimes seem to resolve: tormented, anguished faces. Brigitte thought she could hear their voices as the shadowstuffs passed through her ears and her shadow-flesh swam over her bones. She had a sense of purpose when she was in this graveyard, but what it was, she was not privvy to, nor did she question. She was here because she had to be here, because she was supposed to be here. She would protect these grounds because it was sacred until something told her otherwise.

At the moment, it was near dusk, and Brigitte could not be seen in the confines of the grounds, but that did not mean that she was not there. Sometimes, she would lie besides one of the ancient stones, seeming to be nothing more than a skeleton in a deep patch of shadow herself. The air was thick to the two forms that clung to the outskirts of the site. The night air felt charged with energy and every breath seemed to tingle at their lungs. There was no mistaking this land to their senses; it was sacred, and two sets of yellow eyes burned with curiousity.

Xibalba and Psyche both could easily trace their parentage to the mare who called this gravesite her home, and her blood showed strongly in the young stallion, Xibalba. Dark fur was imprinted with the visages of faces that never quite seemed exactly the same when you glanced back at them, and yet no one really could recall seeing them move. A swirling miasma of energy clung to his forehooves and seemed to fill his essence, occasionally streaming out through his nose or mouth. And a short, dark mane seemed to lift about as if in a wind.

The other figure was a brilliant blue - a mare set alight with flickering flames. And while she seemed to bear few outward traits of her grandmother, her fascination with death could come from no other source. In her mouth she carried a string of hot peppers that they had discovered while wandering through the fields. She had told Xibalba about Brigitte's apparent affectation for them and today they planned on actually facing her.

"Are you certain that she's here?" Xibalba pressed in a whisper.

"No." Psyche responded bluntly. "You never can tell. I've never seen her come or go, but sometimes she's here, and sometimes she's not. Who knows where she goes, though." She added, fascination charging each word as if she were speaking of some mythical creature. "I used to watch her a lot, you know. From a distance. I don't know if she didn't see me or just didn't care, though."

"Did you ever speak with her?" Xibalba asked.

"I... tried once." Psyche admitted. "But I guess after I heard from mother, who said that when she had tried to go see once her she nearly got her head bitten off, I decided that discretion was perhaps more in order."

"Oh." Xibalba added, a little taken aback. How mad was this mare that was his mother? He had never seen her, only herd tell of her from his half-sister, Megaera, and her daughter Psyche who had been his best friend growing up. He was now no longer a foal, and she had finally agreed to take him to see his mother. "What did she say?"

"I didn't say that she responded." Psyche pointed out. "But... when I called out a greeting to her, there was this awful noise. I realized I had stepped inside the graveyard, and then there was this strong of... well, words that I shouldn't repeat to you." She sighed. "As soon as I took a few steps back, and was out of the graveyard, she just... turned around and went about her wanderings, as if she had forgotten that I was there."

Xibalba scanned the graveyard, trying to make out any hint that she was there or not. "You know... if she is not here, I think I'd like to investigate..." Xibalba grinned, a strange insentisty behind his eyes as the colors swirled around his feet as if fanned.

Psyche had to pull herself away from staring at them. She had found the colt fascinating the moment he had emerged from his basket, and was eager to be fast friends with him. And she still found herself often lost staring at the faces in his hide or the energy that seemed to be alive. Sometimes, she would swear, she felt as if the faces on his fur were staring right back through her...
She shook her head quickly. "I ... am not sure if that is the best of ideas, Xibalba. I know that we have collected a lot together from other places... but Brigitte can be dangerous.."

"I'm not frightened!" Xibalba retorted.

"Well fine then," Psyche grinned. "You go first." She dared. Psyche, despite having had the main hand in raising Xibalba, was much more like a big sister than a mother.

And without protest, Xibalba lashed his thick tail and strode confidently into the graveyard without so much as a look back at Psyche. His hoofbeats were muffled against the soft, bare earth, and he walked slowly and curiously past the threshold . Something about this place seemed to pull at the young stallion. The energy about his hooves seemed to reach into the ground, making it difficult to lift his feet. There was some.... connection. Some recognition of ancient spirits that still inhabited this land.

He seemed drawn, pulled inwards. His eyes scoured the rocks until he was beside one that nearly dwarfed him. He stopped, eyes poring over it - he could see traces of characters. There certainly used to be writing on it... maybe... if he looked hard enough, he could make out...

"WHAT THE #!*$ BE YOU DOIN' HERE?!" A booming voice struck him as the shadows behind the stone began to move and take shape. "I will tear your teeth from your head to make me a new necklace!" A skeletal face now emerged from the darkness, eye sockets burning red with a dark energy from within. Her whole being seemed to pulse with rage, her shadowy sides forming howling faces that screamed silently. "I will-" And then, amazingly, Brigitte paused.

For a moment, a flicker of recognition echoed in her skull. Here, amongst the graves, was one of the places where Brigitte was most cognizant - although she was still a far cry from sane. But something about the stallion before her did not scream intruder like others. He seemed... right here. The essence around him sung along with the sounds she heard in her head. And beyond that... something... a flash. Colors? A skeletal face of a stallion. "Baro.." But like holding onto so much smoke, the name was gone from her before she had even finished uttering it. A deep pain, a loss... and this stallion. There was something missing. Then, without segue, she looked harder at XIbalba. "You... be missing you face." She whispered.

He was speaking, she saw his mouth moving, and his brow furrowed in confusion, but she wasn't listening. Not to him at least. Something else pulled at her attention. She reared, and struck out towards him with her hooves. HIs eyes widened but he did not move, and when her hooves struck, then hit the dirt at his feet. The earth that the miasmic energy of his seemed to pull towards. She struck twice, three times, and again until a ridge of bone was visible.

Psyche watched from the outskirts. What on earth was going on? Brigitte guarded the dead that rested here with her life. Why was she digging at the earth? What was burried there?

But if Brigitte even knew the answer, she did not explain until she leaned forward and took the bone in her own skeletal jaws and ripped it from the earth. For a moment, the rainbow energy seemed to be clinging to it. She shook it like a dog - revealing what may have been an equine skull at some point in time - but Age had taken its toll, eating away at some of the aspects. Although a straight, backwards facing horn, and long fanglike teeth could be seen still on it. And then, turning towards Xibalba, she paused for a moment. She knew it belonged. She knew he was missing without it. She tossed it towards him and then lashed out again with a front hoof, striking hard. She drove the skull onto Xibalba's face, but it did not crack. Instead that dark, swirling shadows around her hooves seemed to bind it harder. And as he let loose a scream in pain, his own energy seemed to fuse with hers, and the skull tightened... tightened...

Psyche was finally shaken from her staring when she watched Xibalba fall to the ground, energy swirling around his face and then Brigitte, stepped back, and then turned around as if distracted, and walked directly to the corner of the graveyard where she fell again into a pile. She found her way to her hooves and dashed into the graveyard. Amazingly, perhaps exhausted? who knew - Brigitte did not move. She dropped the peppers and seized Xibalba and proceeded to drag him out again.

*
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"...balba.... Xibalba!" The words swam to his ears as if he was hearing them from a thousand miles away. "XIBALBA!" And then, finally, clear as a bell, his name shook him to consciousness. Golden eyes flared open beneath a bony mask and stared up at Psyche, who was poised over him, staring. Relief flooded her as she saw him wake again.

"Xibalba..? What did she do to you? Did she hurt you? I... I couldn't pull the bones off that she put on you, are you all right?"

Feeling half drugged, Xibalba rolled to his knees and took a deep breath. He could feel it on his face. He remembered the strange intensity, the purpose behind Brigitte's movements. The frenzied digging, the blow to his head. And now... he looked down at the differences in his shadow on the ground - "A precious gift." He whispered reverently.