"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
05-27-2015, 02:55 PM (This post was last modified: 05-28-2015, 04:17 PM by Pevensie.)
Winter. It is crisp as she enters the field, deep snow on the ground. She has left the Tundra, but as the seasons change, you could hardly tell. It is mostly empty before her, open. Against the endless white, her black mane and tail stand out. Her buckskin pelt as melted into a white buttermilk, almost as pure as the snow surrounding her. It is only her jet black outline that distinguishes her from her surroundings, singling her own for the others dwelling in the meadow to find.
She finds a secluded spot, lies down to rest in the snow. At first, it is cold. Then as the snow packs in tight around her, continuing to fall hard and fast, it becomes an insulating blanket. Nobody can see her tattoos now, nor her scars. She smiles, glad to be hidden away from the rest of the world, happy with the comfort of anonymity and invisibility as the night begins to fall.
Pevensie wakes in the heart of the darkness. The snow has stopped now, the night sky above is clear and blue. From her snow-bed she rises, standing on all fours and shaking herself free of the white powder. She grunts, looking east toward her desert home. Time to return, her kingdom will wonder where she has been.
She starts the long trek reluctantly, old bones creaking and tired, sore with cold. She doesn't get far when she decides to stop by a stream, lowering her lips to suck in the silky wealth of the water. The little mare flicks her ears back and forth, looking for some distraction to delay her journey. She isn't ready to return to being a Queen, not yet. She looks north again, pondering a trip to the Field, wondering if she might perhaps make a friend to take home with her.
05-31-2015, 02:41 PM (This post was last modified: 05-31-2015, 02:41 PM by Natilyn.)
the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows
The world is quiet, blanketed by snow. Even the creak and crunch of the white powder underfoot does not echo, but is soft, almost hesitant. It is rare for them to have snow this deep in the Falls, but over the course of the winter in the meadow she has grown used to the feel of it. Something had drawn her back to the land of her birth in the fall, but she had not quite been able to bring herself to return all the way home to the Falls. Leaving had given her freedom back, had given her world its color back, and it had (for a time) given her Mikhael and Nairne. The Falls called to her soul – but it was not powerful enough to draw her back into the fold immediately, so they had wintered here.
She wasn’t sure where Mikhael was – they become separated, or he had left, she didn’t know. It was hard to know, because he was there one day and then he wasn’t, but he had a tendency to wander even when he was with them. With a normal horse she might have been able to find him, to follow and find out if something had happened or if he’d left them, but it was not so with Mikhael, who teleported places as often as he walked. There was no trail left for her to follow, and the call of home had been strong, so back to Beqanna she went.
Nairne was asleep in the snow, a child no longer but innocent nevertheless, but a restless Natilyn left her asleep and wandered towards the stream, bright against the snow. In the Falls she had grown used to her natural gold, as the Kingdom stole away her ability to change herself at will. But since she had been gone it had become second nature again, the constant play of colors across her skin, as fickle with her color as she’d been when she was a newborn. Today she is grass-green with summer sky blue in her mane and tail, heralding how badly she yearns for spring. She’s looking at the water, at her own bright reflection, and she doesn’t immediately notice other mare.
But movement draws her head up and she blinks, finding the light colored mare between the dark brackets, and offers a quiet smile against the near-silence of the meadow around them. “Hello,” is all she offers, though something passes across her face when the smell of the other finally reaches her, its passage dampened by the cold. The strange smells of the Deserts – the smell she has long associated with Mikhael. A part of her wonders if he is there, having forgotten all about his lover and his daughter, but she rejects the idea out of hand. He would not have returned to Beqanna without a word to them. “I’m Natilyn.”
She’s usually friendly, for the most part, if somewhat reserved. The outside world had made her wary and always on guard, but something about Beqanna has set her at ease again. Or perhaps it’s the stranger who has set her at ease – perhaps a part of her soul, the part that is always with her ancestors, has recognized the woman who was once a dear friend of the family. Perhaps her grandmother is guiding her to ease from afar.
Pevensie could never forget. While her earthly sister had lived her life, raised children and led a kingdom, Pevensie had been wandering like a lost soul. Still, the buckskin cannot remember her sister without that sense of betrayal. She was meant to have lived a long life in the Falls' alongside her heart-sister. An unremarkable life, as beloved kindred and advisor to the Queen, never seeking power for herself, just doing what is best. If anything had happened, at best she might have been Regent until her sisters' daughter grew of age. Pevensie wouldn't have wanted the throne. She'd have been an honest Regent, true to her word. All she had ever wanted was to serve Neraza. Nothing more.
That was, until the faeries came and changed her course. If a fate is a thread of string, stung tight, straight and true, then that day they had come along and tied hers in knots of gold. No blade would ever cut her string, not unless she wanted it to or a magician had a hand in it. Unless of course, someone came along and murdered her in the night. She hadn't met anyone that wanted her dead... yet.
This certainly isn't one of those nights. The only creature she meets is another mare, of strange colours. She smiles kindly back, breathing in her scent and recognising her birth-home on the strangers scent. It is weak though, tainted by other scents. Pevensie cannot tell anything for sure.
"Pleasure to meet you Natilyn, I am Pevensie. she introduces herself, bobbing her head politely and taking another lustfully long sip from the flowing water. She doesn't introduce herself as Queen, probably not that many horses in Beqanna would recognise her, never mind associate her as a Queen of the Desert. It is Camrynn that relishes that role, the little sun-mare prefers a greater sense of anonymity. Unlike her co-Queen, she cannot change her skins at will to facilitate that, so instead she prefers to remain an unknown face outside her homeland.
"What brings you here tonight Natilyn? I, myself, I'm quite enjoying the clear night sky and the lovely glow of the moonlight against the snowdrift. I can't seem to drag myself away," she says warmly, her apple-cheeks beaming with her happy smile.
Both of them have been many things to many people, over the course of their lifetimes. Pevensie has lived much longer, of course, but fate has given both of them a choice – strange powers, things their families did not have – or their birth Kingdom. Pevensie had chosen to leave the Falls. Natilyn had stayed, for longer than she ever thought she could – but eventually she, too, had left. Fate had taken a part of both of them that should have been easy, and pure, and made it hard. Pevensie has found refuge, however fleeting, in the Deserts. Natilyn has found it in Mikhael.
Quietly, the mare steps across the stream to stand beside Pevensie, following the other mare’s gaze to the sky. Almost unconsciously, as she admires the deep darkness broken by bright stars, Natilyn changes color. Her body darkens to the deep blue-black of the night sky, her mane and tail bright the soft white of the snowdrifts in the dark. “It is beautiful,” she says, willing to admire it for the time being (though nothing matches the Falls, nor will it ever). But the answer is out of order, and she turns her attention to the other half. Why is she here?
“Well I’m from Beqanna, but I’ve been away. With my lover, and my daughter. Things just weren’t quite right for us here. But my daughter…” Natilyn sighs, tearing her eyes away from the sky to skim the field, wondering what Nairne dreams of where she sleeps not so far away. “Nairne wanted to come back, to the Falls, where she was born. I came to make sure she got here safely, and in case she changes her mind.” A little wistful, there, a tone of loss. She and Mikhael make a whole without Nairne; they were whole before and will be whole afterwords – but that does not mean they do not love her and want her around. It will be hard, to leave her daughter here.
But Mikhael does not belong in the Falls, and Natilyn can’t be whole without him. She tried, for so long, but it was never right.
She isn't round yet, but in Pevensie has lived for too long to be ignorant. She is pregnant. A life is dawning inside of her, a spark lit and attempting to ignite into a fire. She knows her heart-sister went through this often, bore many children into the world, but it is not even within her lifetime that Pevensie has chosen to follow her sibling. It brings Nezara to the forefront of her mind, because she is apprehensive about the unknown. Scared, even. If ever she needed her sister, it is now, yet it is impossible.
However, she is simply pleased to have found company on the cool night. With a knowing sad frown, Pevensie explores Naitlyn's expression. It is awful to be parted from a child, and Pevensie would know - she has been parted from many. They might not have been her flesh and blood, but she will always love them equally to the one blossoming in her belly.
"I was born in the Falls' too. She will be safe there, don't fret. I have personally pledged to protect it from any harm, and any members of the Deserts who wish to assist me will give their lives to protect her too. There are more dangerous places in Beqanna to be," she says with a reassuring smile, soft and subtle. Her thoughts drift to the 'Gates, a potential target from the Amazonian mares, looking to procure an empire, discontented with their Jungle home.
"And where will you go? Back into the darkness, hiding away from Beqanna?" she asks, cocking her head curiously, "I don't mean it like that... I have spent a long time away from home. In fact, by the time I returned, it was too late,"
For a moment, listening, Natilyn wonders if Pevensie has ever met Brennen. For a moment she indulges a fanciful thought – wondering if there’s some sort of league of protectors for the Falls. Those who live in other places but have given a piece of their heart to the Neutral Kingdom. Maybe they get together and discuss how best to mysteriously protect the waterfall Kingdom. Maybe she can join them. She doesn’t know that there is another link between Brennen and Pevensie – but Neraza is there, somewhere, under the skin of these strange relationships. Neraza had been the Falls, and the Falls had been Neraza; they were an inseparable thing.
“The Falls has that hold on some,” she says quietly, a sad smile on her face. “I was born there, too. I was Queen, for a short time. But some of us are not made to stay forever.” she turns brown eyes on Pevensie and wonders what drew such a loyal soul away from the Falls, but she does not ask. But the solemn thoughts have affected her mood and her color fades, leaving behind the spring-bright blue and green and taking instead a comfort color, her first color change, the changing and beautiful colors of their beloved waterfall. And she considers the question.
“I’m in love,” she laughs, a fond laugh, and it’s as much an answer as anything else. “I was willing to sacrifice what I was born with, to stay in the Falls. But I can’t ask him to do it. And he would never ask me to go back to his home, to the Deserts, and have the Falls just out of my reach.” He had lived on the edge of the Falls for many years, never committing himself enough to lose his powers, never forgetting the Deserts, but staying for her. Watching him do that had been killing her slowly – a quiet guilt. “So we wander, Mikhael and I, but Nairne wanted the Falls again, so I have come to bring her home.”
She turns again to study the face, the unfamiliar face that resonates within her for no reason she can name. “Too late for what?” she can’t help the curiosity.
