"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
For all his fitness, the piebald stallion is unfairly match against the altitude of Hyaline. As he climbs the southern side of the slopes, he does so at a leisurely pace, chatting with @[Zhenga] about almost-forgotten childhood memories. The sun had barely risen when they had left the hills of Loess, and now the midmorning light shines off his opalescent scales, muted somewhat by the long fringe of his tangled black mane. A half year out of the water had smoothed it, yet the ringlets of his once-familiar cords are returning here and there. He had found a spring, after all, deep enough and dark enough to satisfy his more primal urges. He is not reflecting on those as he winds his way up the rocky slope, picking his way up a path that is clear but unfamiliar. He has been to Hyaline thrice before, but never from directly south. Following the river is an easier trek, but it won’t give them the view of the lake that he suspects this route will The smoky black and white stallion is breathing shallow (far differently than after their recent race up the bluff) and he looks back at Zenga’s familiar roan face. “Almost there,” He tells her with a grin. “It’s worth the effort, I promise.” In time, they reach the peak of the mountains, and below them is a forest that holds the border of the land. Each step lower is a relief to his beleaguered lungs, and he is breathing more easily by the time he draws to a halt. “The border,” he says to Zhenga beside him. He raises his head, releasing a long call that he knows will echo down the mountain side. He suspects they might be found even before someone hears and answers his call; the smell of horses is far thicker here than on his last foray. He’d not been paying much attention when he’d come to sneak away with Castile, but it seems the population of the mountain retreat has grown.
Her life has been forever changed by the Dragon-King. He had consumed her innocence and trapped her heart although the “L” word had yet to be exchanged. He was the moon of her life and it was exactly what she had worried about. What had frightened her. Since they had consummated their feelings, she felt raw and vulnerable to him. He had seemed to become more sure in himself while she was left with questioning uncertainties. Of course she kept these doubts to herself, not wanting to spoil any moment they spent together. Still, she can’t help but wonder when the veil would fall. When the rose colored glasses might come off. When he would caste her aside for someone else.
She was far from innocent when it came to mixed feelings though. She still remembers Castile and the way he had looked at her and it sends a heat that flushes through her system. What could that even mean? She barely knew him and he was friends with her dragon. Her heart is sore and heavy with the thought of it all. Still she strives to do well here as she had promised to give Hyaline a shot, to stay for him.
This is what plagues her as she grazes along the shoreline, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun on her backside. A long echoing call breaks her brooding and she lifts her dark head to seek out the caller. There are two coming over the hills and she quickly breaks into a trot to meet them. Tossing her skull lightly as she whinnies her reply, shadowy hooves prodding the bent grass quickly as she soon arrives before them. She has become accustomed to the lingering stares that her mangled and puckered scars draw, as they ravage her entire body. Still, she finds a smile as the swirling silver iris’s look at them each with interest. The scales of the stallion catch her immediately and she wonder’s if this may be a relation to her dragon.
”Welcome to Hyaline.” She greets softly, willing herself to relax the tension she feels with each new greeting. ”I’m Ciri but I’m assuming you’re looking for Amet?” Despite her nerves she breaks into an easy grin as she awaits their reply.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
Save for when the two young horses stopped to rest for the night, or to find a source of water to quench their dry throats, a lot of their travel to Hyaline was spent in pleasant conversation, detailing various topics from their adventures as foals to their own travels after they'd both departed Sylva to go see more of the world. At one point, Zhenga told Ivar of an incident she had after a series of rainy days, where she so foolishly tried to gallop and jump over a large pit rather than go around it. She'd spent a good half hour trying to get her body out from the knee-deep mud, and the trial it had been to wash her legs clean.
All she had done was blush when the paint stallion laughed at her expense, but she did not get mad at him for it. She told the story after all, and looking back on it, the whole incident made her laugh too.
It only took a few hours, even though Loess and Hyaline were right next door to each other. However, given that the two young horses were climbing uphill and the altitude was changing, their lungs needed a chance to adapt, according to Zhenga's memory of one of her dam's lessons. So she suggested to Ivar that they stop every so often, or backtrack if they had to, so their lungs could get used to the thinner air the closer they go to Hyaline's border.
By the time they reached their destination, Ivar still seemed to be having a little trouble, but not as much as the two young horses might be experiencing had they not taken the extra time. Even so, Zhenga worried for her friend; she was just as new to this altitude stuff as him, but her dam's training had come in handy when it came to adapting.
At one point, Ivar turned back to face the roan filly, and for a moment she was struck by how handsome he looked in the sun's midmorning rays. He informed her that they were almost at the point of the hill that marked part of the border, and that the end result would be well worth the effort. Zhenga nodded excitedly and continued following after her friend, keeping pace with him but a little behind so that, if they came across a narrow portion of the trail, they could continue walking without fear of tripping on each other.
Finally, they reached the border, emphasized by Ivar's statement. The roan filly stopped beside her friend, looking out over the expanse of territory that stretched into the distance. Ivar lifted his head and let out a call, the message of which was quite clear. Zhenga waited patiently with her friend, and it was not long before a resident of the kingdom came to greet them.
A young smoky black mare, looking a little older than Ivar but close to Zhenga's age, approached the two young horses, welcoming them to Hyaline before introducing herself by the name of Ciri. Zhenga dipped her head to say hello as the mare asked if they'd come in search of Amet. The roan figured that Amet was one of the two leaders she heard presided over this place.
She glanced to Ivar, wondering what he'd have to say. "Do we need Amex's permission? Or is this Ciri the other leader?" she whispered quietly enough to keep the conversation between herself and her friend.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
The mare that comes toward them from the trees is unfamiliar, but that is not unexpected.
She is striking, even without the scars, but their multitude is what draws his eye more than anything. It is only natural, but there is only curiosity in his gaze. Ivar is unscarrable; he has often wondered how different he might look were he not. When the black mare is close enough to greet them though, his attention is only on her face, and he offers her a warm smile. It is bright on his handsome face, and accompanied by open friendliness in his brown eyes.
“Thank you Ciri. I’m Ivar, from Loess.” He says with a nod of his head. Turning back to Zhenga, he inclines his head to better hear her whispered comment. He doesn’t have the answer to the questions she asks, but he does nod in understanding of it, and then glances back to Ciri.
“I would like to see @[Amet] on kingdom business, but I’m also here to show my friend Zhenga the beauty of Hyaline.” He gestures to the roan mare beside him, his hip companionably brushing hers. “Would you be willing to show us around?” Asks the scaled stallion, his head titled curiously. “I’m sure we’ll run into Amet eventually.”
The Golden King was a vigilant ruler, Ivar is well aware. He knows that his success with sneaking Castile away had much more to do with luck than lack of awareness on the King’s part, and he would be surprised if the king didn’t find them gathered sooner rather than later. His scent is also heavily entwined with the mare that has greeted them, much in the way that Heda smells of Ivar.
“Have you lived here long?” He asks the smoky black mare, curious but polite. “I visited as a child, but it seems the kingdom has grown quite a bit since then.”
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
He has been in high spirits since his private evening with Ciri, though the occasionaly uncertainty likes to nibble deep in his head whenever he thinks of the way Castile had tried to pretend he did not want to devour her with his eyes. Amet has done well to suppress the jealousy that threatens to curl in his stomach, instead spending his time doting on the smoky black mare as much as he can without presenting himself as overbearing or suffocating.
He has nearly slipped a few times, confessing the immensity of his feelings for the starry-eyed girl, but the young King needs to be sure that his affections are reciprocated in the same way. He only wishes that there was a simple way to tell.
He sighs quietly at the thought, amber eyes lost in the reflection of his lake as large, puffy clouds break up the blue blanket overhead. A breeze floats in from the south today and with it comes a vaguely familiar scent, one that intrigues the gilded stallion and draws him away from the crystalline water basin. He canters easily over the familiar ground of his sanctuary, the territory he has called home since the turn of his second birthday, and towards the southern border. He ventures this way occasionally, though has admittedly been lax in doing so, as he is content with the alliance that he had developed with Heda.
Amet's amber eyes find a trio at the border. He knows two of the three, settling himself comfortably next to Ciri with a gentle caress of his muzzle against her neck before turning his gaze back to Ivar and his roan companion. He grins pleasantly at the pair, though bites his tongue at Ivar's last statement to Ciri. Hyaline's King wants to jest, to reveal what the other dragon-scaled stallion had done the last time he had ventured into Hyaline, but drawing his starry-eyed girl's attention back to Castile is the last thing he wants to do.
"Ivar," he greets politely, any bad blood he may have felt for the tobiano forgotten years ago, "You smell of Loess. Have you moved away from Sylva?" the young stallion questions briefly before turning his amber gaze to the other stallion's companion. "Hello there. My name is Amet," he offers to her politely before bumping his hip against Ciri's and turning his gaze to her, "You're getting to be better at greeting our guests than I am."
The piebald’s eyes rove across her ravaged skin and she tenses slightly though she forces the smile to remain on her lips. She always wonders what they make of her, what they see when their gaze falls on each and every scar, if they only knew the story they told. The long claw marks that had sliced over the flesh of her shoulder. The many various smaller cuts made from beaks and talons. His gaze doesn’t linger longer then necessary, finding her swirling iris’s quickly and offering a warm greeting in return.
Ivar of Loess. She remembers faintly something Amet has said about Loess recently but she can’t recall most of it. Lately she has been preoccupied. The young female at his side whispers softly into his ear and she looks at her curiously, wondering if she had somehow offended them. Luckily it seems she has not, their visitors merely wish to speak to her dragon on kingdom matters and to see the beauty that was Hyaline. She relaxes slightly, it is an easy enough request to fulfill.
”I would be happy to.” She agrees quietly with a soft smile that tugs at the corner of her dark lips. ”Besides, I have an idea where he might be.” Since his beloved wisteria tree had been restored, he spends most of his time there if not consumed by other business. It’s where she curls up with him at night if they don’t seek the privacy of their sensual hideaway.
As she falls in step just slightly before Ivar to lead them, Amet unexpectedly appears. Seeing him causes the familiar fluttering of emotions. The stir of desire at her core, the affection that wraps light fingers around her heart, the pulse of uncertainty of all that he is and all they may or may not be. The stars in her eyes brighten visibly though as he appears and without a word settles beside her, placing his possessive caress along her neck. He seems to do that more often since that day with Castile. It sends a shudder along her spine, both of pleasure and foreboding.
In return she nuzzles the scaled curve of his shoulder, not ashamed of the open affection she gives in front of their visitors. Since their night of pleasure, she begins to feel more comfortable in showing such public displays. Finding her own sense of possessiveness over her dragon. As Ivar’s question remains unanswered, she is quick to pick up the dropped threads of conversation. ”I arrived in Hyaline last winter.” She hesitates, knowing the word arrived is the most fitting way to explain her appearance on the lake. And had it been that long since she had been here? The months seemed to fly by lately. ”I was ill and Amet showed me much kindness in letting me stay till I was better.” She warmly turns her affectionate gaze to him, recalling the way he had nursed her back to health with the help of the red wytch.
Amet then takes the lead and she falls back without complaint, this was his kingdom after all. However he does compliment her attentiveness and she merely offers him her swirling gaze, searching into the molten gold of his own. ”I like to be useful.” She finally responds with a small smile. Wanting to stand in Hyaline on her own four feet by her own merit instead of being known only as the warm body he sought his pleasure with.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
Ivar didn't necessarily answer Zhenga's question directly, but how he spoke to Ciri indicated that she probably wasn't the leader. The paint stallion had a respectful tone when he did speak to her, but in addition to speaking Amet's name again, he seemed very at ease around the smoky black mare, as if he didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing around her.
Ivar spoke to the smoky black mare, introducing Zhenga along with stating their purpose for coming here. Zhenga gave the smoky black mare a friendly smile, trying to ignore the small butterflies in her stomach from when Ivar bumped his hip against hers. Ciri agreed to show them around a bit before leading them to Amex's hiding place, wherever he was, and turned in preparation to lead the mare and stallion into Hyaline's territory.
Before they could make any headway though, another young horse approached them. This one had a stockier build, his regular coat replaced by golden and bronze dragon scales, like how Ivar had his own uniquely colored ones. Zhenga stared a moment longer than necessary; his golden scales did make the new stallion look quite handsome. As he got closer, he brushed his muzzle against Ciri's supple neck, drawing a smile from her before greeting Ivar by name and Zhenga with acknowledgement through his gaze and a pleasant 'hello'.
Zhenga allowed the smoky black mare and golden stallion to speak to each other before she decided it'd be the polite thing to introduce herself. "Hello," she told the golden stallion, dipping her head, "I'm Zhenga; I came here with Ivar to explore Hyaline because I was curious about what the sunrise looked like from here, rather than in Loess or Sylva." She didn't see any harm in stating their business; they weren't exactly trying to hide anything after all.
10-22-2017, 07:39 PM (This post was last modified: 10-29-2017, 02:00 PM by kahzie.)
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Ciri agrees to show them around Hyaline and Ivar steps forward, ready to follow her lead. Her answer to his question is met with a nod – so she’d been here a little less time than he’d been in Loess. Ciri is not a child, and Ivar wonders if the rumors he had heard of the separation of Nerine and Hyaline are true. This doesn’t seem to be a haven for children anymore, he muses, though the idyllic image of safety had been shattered as soon as word of the fire spread. They are doing well in spite of it, Ivar also notes; providing for those in need.
Their journey deeper into Hyaline barely has time to begin before they are met by a familiar metallic stallion. The gentle touch of Amet’s muzzle to Ciri’s side confirms Ivar’s suspicions. The scaled tobiano smiles at the gestures of affection between the two, but turns his attention solely to Amet as the bronze King begins to speak.
Zhenga gives the pair of horse from Hyaline a more detailed explanation of their reason for travel, and Ivar is content to wait his turn in the conversation. He turns to watch her speak, clearly trusting of these horses she had just met. It reminds him a little of Heda, and Amet mentions Loess just as the thought crosses his mind.
“I’ve been in Loess for a little more than a year now,” Ivar replies, “Though I’ve not gotten out much. This trip with Zhenga is a nice change of pace, and seemed a good opportunity to check up on our ally.” Hyaline is Loess’ only ally, after all, and Ivar knows that Heda would appreciate reassurance that Loess does not stand entirely alone. The buckskin queen does not care for the minutiae of kingdom life, Ivar knows. Recruiting, stealing, challenging – those are not her forte. It is diplomacy, the scaled stallion reminds himself, and surely she has reasons for not sending out envoys to them in almost two years.
“It seems you’re doing well,” he adds with a gesture at the kingdom spread below them. The destruction from the fire is all but gone; the crystal clear lake looks like he remembers from his youth.
