01-28-2017, 09:42 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
Though he certainly has yet to see the whole land, Brennen thinks he has seen enough from the air, and then from a short tour with Djinni, to get a good feel for it. The grey sand underfoot is not unlike the sand of the Deserts, though it does not radiate head and golden warmth. And the scent of the ocean, while it is not the scent of his beloved Tundra, is sharp and refreshing, like the ice and snow. He thinks perhaps he could grow to like it. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks isn’t the same sound as the Falls, but it is a loud water sound and he supposes he might like that eventually also.
Brennen never knew his mother, but like any true Tundra stallion, it had been his father he had strived to emulate anyway. Texas hadn’t given him family (though Brennen knows, in some abstract way that there must be many siblings wandering around), or a childhood; the only thing Texas had given his son was the Tundra, and to a lesser extent the Falls. And he had served the Tundra faithfully from the day he stepped foot within its chilly borders, and the Falls in his own personal way. But they are gone, and Brennen does not know how to bring them back. And at some point, he has to move forward.
He is ground-bound when she finds him, but with his wings partially extended, eyes half-closed, enjoying the feel of the sea breeze ruffling through the inky black feathers. Too long he had been without his wings, and he felt like twice the man he had been just after the reckoning since Djinni had restored them for him. The fact that the fae had also seen fit to give him his ice control back – perhaps as a reward for getting off of his lazy butt and starting to find his place in the new world – doesn’t hurt either.
When it becomes clear that the approaching mare is coming for him, he slits his eyes open a little wider to watch. She’s striking, her colors bold, and moves with grace and authority. Of course, he’s met few Amazons who didn’t. The stranger strikes him as one of those who probably populated Nerine from the Jungle, and he wonders as she gets closer if she’s one who favors or does not favor the addition of stallions to their ranks. Brennen assumes there must be some detractors amongst them. His question is answered with her first word – her name – because Djinni had told him that their Queen intended to continue to allow mares and stallions. She’d also said something along the lines of “separate but equal”, which he is not sure is exactly what Nayl has in mind after she calls it a matriarchal society.
Still. He had agreed to come knowing it was the new Jungle, and he can’t say he’s surprised if they’re not really equal. He’d settle for partially equal, at least for now.
“Your majesty,” he responds, casually, straightening and pulling his wings in to his sides, though he does not bow or offer any other obeisance. He has never been overly formal with any monarchs; the closest he had ever come was a true respect for Errant, but even then, he had never been the type to be deferential. “I’m Brennen.” The stallion watches her as she speaks, finding her iciness amusing. He brings out the most interesting responses in the Jungle women, and finds them endlessly fascinating. “Well,” he muses, swishing his tail casually, “I believe it was described to me as ‘separate but equal’. Is that not true?” He didn’t really answer her question, and he knows that, but it’s been too long since he bantered with an Amazon, friendly or not-so-friendly, and he can’t quite help himself.
Brennen never knew his mother, but like any true Tundra stallion, it had been his father he had strived to emulate anyway. Texas hadn’t given him family (though Brennen knows, in some abstract way that there must be many siblings wandering around), or a childhood; the only thing Texas had given his son was the Tundra, and to a lesser extent the Falls. And he had served the Tundra faithfully from the day he stepped foot within its chilly borders, and the Falls in his own personal way. But they are gone, and Brennen does not know how to bring them back. And at some point, he has to move forward.
He is ground-bound when she finds him, but with his wings partially extended, eyes half-closed, enjoying the feel of the sea breeze ruffling through the inky black feathers. Too long he had been without his wings, and he felt like twice the man he had been just after the reckoning since Djinni had restored them for him. The fact that the fae had also seen fit to give him his ice control back – perhaps as a reward for getting off of his lazy butt and starting to find his place in the new world – doesn’t hurt either.
When it becomes clear that the approaching mare is coming for him, he slits his eyes open a little wider to watch. She’s striking, her colors bold, and moves with grace and authority. Of course, he’s met few Amazons who didn’t. The stranger strikes him as one of those who probably populated Nerine from the Jungle, and he wonders as she gets closer if she’s one who favors or does not favor the addition of stallions to their ranks. Brennen assumes there must be some detractors amongst them. His question is answered with her first word – her name – because Djinni had told him that their Queen intended to continue to allow mares and stallions. She’d also said something along the lines of “separate but equal”, which he is not sure is exactly what Nayl has in mind after she calls it a matriarchal society.
Still. He had agreed to come knowing it was the new Jungle, and he can’t say he’s surprised if they’re not really equal. He’d settle for partially equal, at least for now.
“Your majesty,” he responds, casually, straightening and pulling his wings in to his sides, though he does not bow or offer any other obeisance. He has never been overly formal with any monarchs; the closest he had ever come was a true respect for Errant, but even then, he had never been the type to be deferential. “I’m Brennen.” The stallion watches her as she speaks, finding her iciness amusing. He brings out the most interesting responses in the Jungle women, and finds them endlessly fascinating. “Well,” he muses, swishing his tail casually, “I believe it was described to me as ‘separate but equal’. Is that not true?” He didn’t really answer her question, and he knows that, but it’s been too long since he bantered with an Amazon, friendly or not-so-friendly, and he can’t quite help himself.
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN