[open] ; in restless dreams I walked alone (gunsynd, any)

[Aranea]

Oh once upon a time she had known this place. once upon a time she had known this place intimately. it was a lifetime ago and yet here she found her path winding this was again. to the kingdom she had once ruled; to the kingdom that had lured her in when she was fresh-faced and eager. to the kingdom that her mother had known, once, just as intimately. it was a placed heaped in history for the ancient creature, though she did not exactly wish to delve in to the depths of it. it was not the past that she sought to restore, but a future she intended to polish. aranea had lived a multitude of years (mostly in solitude and silence, after those of grandeur and glory) yet her body was young and her mind was sharp. gunsynd had presented her with a sliver of hope and she snatched eagerly at the opportunity - perhaps she would be freed (even slightly!) from this curse that the faeries had so nicely bestowed upon her. was it not enough that she bore the scars of that day? scars the gleamed bright orange against her ashen coat, courtesy of the magician who had healed the bloody claw marks so long ago. the scars had not faded; that was the price she would pay for her life. that and her voice. a small price, some might argue. but this caged bird - she wanted to SING. their journey would be spent in silence on her behalf, though she very clearly perked up when they reached the multitude of smells that marked the boundaries of a kingdom. a kingdom, though she could not possibly know it, that was led by a king who had once known her MOTHER intimately. what could you expect of a stallion named eight and a mare known as a spider... when they finally stopped she faced gunsynd, curiosity etched in her features despite herself. for a second she was not the jaded mare who had lived on her own for so many years, but an excited yearling with a lifetime of opportunity stretched before her. so what next? ARANEA (immortal, mute, infrared vision)from dust, she returned the dream, an enigma... silent

[Eight]

Once upon a time, the Valley had been new to the magician king. Once upon a time, her claws did not sink into him and grab ahold. Once upon a time, the Chamber had been his home - his reign of time where he was none too sane and none too pleasant. Once upon a time, he had known very intimately a woman who wove webs like a spider.

There is little that the magician misses in the Valley - if anything at all. She is tied to him, running through her blood and bones - his magic steeping into her pores. What she feels, he feels. I suppose it is both a blessing and curse of being a guardian. You cannot feel just what you would like - you feel it all, or you feel nothing.

The air rifles with disturbance, and Eight looks up towards the horizon. There was no doubt that this meant there was someone new. This was interesting, though. It was not a pulse of magic of a Valley member returning, and yet - this was not someone entirely new. Closing his eyes, the fog cleared from his mind and the familiar shape of Gunsynd appeared, along with someone not so new. A smirk briefly played on the old magician’s face - a remembrance of time past, when he was so much younger, when things were so much more different.

Quickly, he dissipates his atoms and bones and blood - leaving the soft cavernous forest and reappearing at the edge of the Valley before you.
“Gunsynd, I see you have brought someone home.” His eyes flash to yours, Aranea, and he wonders if perhaps you knew just what history lay riddled here.




meeerrrr. Sorry its a bit all over.

[Gunsynd]

Gunsynd

I wanna chain you up       I wanna tie you down

The ink-hued stallion leads the woman to her, his lover. Maybe it was simply the Valley’s will that he chanced upon her in the meadow. But was it chance, then? Or did his love always get what she wanted? She had been known to wait, after all. As they draw nearer to the promised land he can feel the tension of bringing the two together, like being between two magnets. A smile tugs at his thick lips as he knows he has pleased his love.

They enter the Valley’s embrace and the beast is aware that they do not have much time before her guardian appears, just as he did before. Gunsynd has a respect for the magician that prevents him from being jealous of his intimacy with his Valley. If he had to share her, Eight was possibly the least offensive option. Besides, if his lover wanted him too, then Gunsynd could offer no objection.

Before he appears, however, the mare looks to him expectantly, as if simply being here would solve her problems. He looks away, expecting the guardian to manifest in his line of vision at any given moment. (But he also needs to look away from those eager, expectant eyes if he must control himself for the time being.) “You’ll be released from your prison shortly.” He says quietly.

And there he is, just as expected. The beast nods both in greeting and acknowledgement of his words. He is certain Eight would not stir for just anyone. “She’s silent. Care to fix that?” He asks brusquely. Of course they had explained the magic of the Valley had been stored away, but Eight’s own personal magic was another thing altogether. 

I M   J U S T   A   S U C K E R   F O R   P A I N

[Aranea]

there is a familiarity to the way that the valley seems to settle around her. the way the air seems to blanket her, embrace her, envelop every fiber of her being. it is comfortable and the ashen mare cannot completely mask the odd smile that turns up her lips.  they do not have long to wait - aranea shows no reaction to the comment of a prison, though she feels an unusual need to defend her silence. it was no prison and, in fact, most days she welcomed the peace that it brought. it was an inconvenience, at best, and so thshadow focused her attention on the one that came.  oh she knew him. she knew him more deeply than she could even tell. it was not that they had crossed paths a thousand times - a few, at best - but that his story was wound with hers in a way that even she did not understand. yes, there was history there.  gone was the eager youth and returned with a shadowy cloak was the ancient mare who had once COMMANDED attention. though she was not unusual to look at - plain, in fact, compared to most in beqanna these days - she drew eyes wherever she went. it was a simple confidence that oozed from her very pores. it was present, now.  her gaze bounced from gunsynd to eight and she felt the shift. it was as if a bubble had expanded and settled over the three gathered and aranea knew that they would be able to hear her.  how convenient she focused on projecting her thoughts, something which required about the same effort as speaking. home. yes, that has a nice ring to it. she wondered if it had been her home before it had been his - her memory, though long, was imperfect.  to them both, then. i am aranea. do you remember me, eight? do you remember my mother? do you know what i can do?   ARANEA (immortal, mute, infrared vision)from dust, she returned the dream, an enigma... silent

[Eight]

no matter what they say, I am still the king

It seems there is an uneasy acceptance between the two stallions. You, Gunsynd, did not seem the type to befriend nor care for any (save our beautiful Mistress). And Eight was no exception. No, you do not like the stallion, per say – you merely appreciate the power brimming inside him that kept the Valley safe. You conceded to sharing her voluptuous valleys and moist earth with the magician – because there was simply that small string that tied you and he together, that ever vibrating love for the land beneath your feet.
It was no secret that Eight was a magician – it seemed to be what defined him, his scar upon the world. It was true, there were other magicians about, each settled in their own nook or cranny of the world – but for some reason, it seemed Eight was the one who wore the title so heavily. Perhaps it was because his power was so chaotic – days where he healed, gave voice to those who could not speak, grew daisies for the children. And then days where things were not quite so calm – the year he and Evrae rained hell on each of the kingdoms, the maiming and mind games and torture he has played. You could never quite tell which way the viperous power inside him would flow.
But you knew somehow, didn’t you Gunsynd? You knew the guardian would alight from wherever he roamed and find his way to you. You knew that he would acquiesce to giving the glowed eyed girl her voice back. Was the magician that predictable? Or were you simply just a man who thought the same as he?
Surprisingly, Eight does not pry into the girl’s brain. No, there is no need for that – it seemed somewhat of a betrayal to the spider mother (did Eight ever even owe her that much?). He did not intimately know Aranea; they had spoken long after Sage left, perhaps hoping to relive the shared history they had. Perhaps hoping that there was something inside Aranea that was akin to Sage. Aranea had stood on the throne beside Eight’s old friend Vampyric, and they would often brush into one another while Eight was visiting the dark vampire.
History was a fickle thing.
Eight shook the web of history from his mind before giving a short nod to Gunsynd. It was astonishing sometimes to think how easy his life was via his magic. How nonchalant it was to him to be able to make a mute girl speak, to make the mountains move, the daisies grow. He stretched a dome over the three, it shimmered brightly before fading into the air. Here, they could communicate with Aranea in ease – her voice would be a tangible thing, floating melodiously into their ears.
It did not take long for her to realize that she could speak (was it a relief? Was it like a wave washing over her – finally! To communicate aloud! Or was it almost perhaps a chore?)
“I do.” He replied, his eyes finding hers. “Time has been well to you.” He jerked his head in Aranea’s direction, now addressing Gunsynd. “Where’d you find her? It’s been a while since she’s been through these parts.”

∞

and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in

@[Aranea] @[Gunsynd]

[Topsail]

I was in the darkness; so the darkness I became.

The Valley was slowly waking; a sleeping dragon lazily opening an eye while smoke curled up from its nostrils. It was rising without the typical fanfare, somewhat like a storm as it crested the horizon. The implications were certainly there in the heavy roll of thunder, but without the rain its meaning wasn’t clear. For now it would be safe to stand and watch the clouds billow. That is, until lightning split the sky and scorched the earth. Like the storm, the Valley was growing in strength. Before long, that electric charge would need a proper outlet for its chaotic energy.

The raising of triplets was a tiresome task, and one she did not take lightly. They were the future of the kingdom, a proverbial dynasty cloaked in mousy dun fur. Their powers differed but they were so much alike; she supposed that sharing a womb for nearly a year gave them an uncommonly strong bond. Even the awkward one, Kilter, was a gifted child though she hadn’t quite figured out his gift yet. Not blessed with telepathy, she often reprimanded Knoxlyn and Keel for leaving him out of their childish conversations. Despite being able to keep things from him, they were not able to keep things from her. Today though, they were playing quietly in one of the caves Eight had showed them. It made the perfect nest for unruly children, and so she left them there so as to complete kingdom business. Eventually she would allow them to tag along; today was not that day.

Today, she would enjoy the solitude of a crisp winters day. She would speak with grown horses and not entertain the banter of careless youth. As she wandered her aimless path, she felt the surge of Eights magic ripple through the land. While they were not a couple by the conventional means, they were tied together in their own way. Raising her head, she stared in that direction, opening her mind and searching for others. Eight, Gunsynd…and a new mare. With a soft smile she picked up an easy trot, heading towards the trio at a brisk, but leisurely pace. Finally, she reached them. She felt a shiver as she drifted through the magic. The grulla offered a silent hello to the two stallions, sparing a wry smile for Gunsynd; there was more than a little tension between them at the moment. “Welcome to the Valley, Aranea.” she said into the roans mind, having caught her name on arrival. While she may not have been cut from original Valley cloth, she still had an air of belonging to her. “Or should I say, welcome home.”

Topsail

Queen of the Valley

[Gunsynd]

Gunsynd

I wanna chain you up       I wanna tie you down

As predicted, the Valley’s guardian joins them and constructs a bubble in which they can communicate freely. Gunsynd prefers this method to the invasive practice of telepathy, but it is not long before the Valley queen joins them and he feels himself tense at the thought of being pried into again. Nevertheless, he nods to both the magician and the ruler. He could play nice.

The mute woman speaks without moving her lips and this draws his attention. Aranea. The name rings a bell, but he can’t quite place it. She confirms, however, that his efforts had not been in vain; the Valley is a part of this mare. A small smile pulls at his thick lips as he considers how his love can pull those to her that she requires. She was ever the mysterious and undeniable goddess. They could do little to deny her.

His ears perk at Eight’s words (they come from his vocal chords, which is becoming an oddity in this kingdom) and his heavy head turns to regard him as he speaks. So they had known each other in the past; but what was the past - it was neither here nor there. Gunsynd tried to focus his efforts on the here and now, it was much less complicated. Memory had a way of snaking through the mind and changing its landscape much like a river will carve out a canyon over the millennia. Simply put, it was too unreliable. 

“She was on the edge of the meadow, looking disenchanted with it all.” He says with a smirk and a glance to Aranea. “She wasn’t interested in keeping me company so I offered to bring her here to regain her voice.” He shifts in a half-hearted shrug, letting her denial roll off his shoulders. “Thanks for helping.” He turns his attention to the queen, knowing she is undoubtedly whispering things inside the newcomer’s mind, but as he is without unlimited power like her guardian he cannot guess what exchanges between them. 

I M   J U S T   A   S U C K E R   F O R   P A I N

[Aranea]

though it had been years since she had delved in to conversation with another aranea found no true excitement in it. there was an eagerness to prove her worth again but it was not tied to the necessity of conversation. the years that she had lingered without speech had not made her miss it - in fact, quite the opposite. aranea adored the peace of silence. it was comforting and easy and so much less complicated than the multitude of words required in diplomacy and politics. it had been a relief to be free of it all... ...still, she was eager for her return. as it has to you. it was true - he seemed no older than the day she had last seen him - at least on a physical level. aranea sensed that change had occurred somewhere deeper, though, whether he would be quick to admit it or not. perhaps she was wrong, even, though she could not imagine so. he went on to ask about her as if she was not there and aranea allowed herself to be distracted by the arrival of another. the queen, surely. it was not confirmed but aranea knew well enough - it was clear in the way the valley embraced the other. what a group they made! aranea smirked at the thought of their little gathering, of magic and silence and immortality and the vision of beasts; what a strange group they were. she did not dwell on it long but instead focused on the words that pressed in to her mind, exhaling quickly at the almost forgotten sensation. it is good to be back. as much as the valley had changed it was, in some ways, still very much the same. aranea had dedicated herself to this land once and the land had not forgotten. her attention returned, briefly, to the first she had met. gunsynd. a thousand retorts tingled in her mind but she held her proverbial tongue and instead chose to address them all. i thank you for welcoming me back. i am certain you will find me... helpful. the shadow would not pretend that she did not know her own worth - she would serve the valley well and they would be happy to have her - she was a prize. it has been many years and there have been many changes - if you would tell me those that are most important... an expectant look swept from one to the next as she wondered who would be the first to speak. ARANEA (immortal, mute, infrared vision)from dust, she returned the dream, an enigma... silent