"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
09-03-2016, 05:11 AM (This post was last modified: 09-03-2016, 05:11 AM by Brynmor.)
With my speechless calm eyes,
nothing is coming to rise.
It was like you close your eyes for a second, take a deep breath to relax and just enjoy the moment. You would expect to see the world out there again like you know her, but when Brynmor opens his eyes again, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. He blinks a few times, wondering if he really saw things good, but he still found himself on the unknown mountain. ”Wh- where am I?” This time the graying male closes his eyes longer, but once his blue eyes open again, he realises that he indeed is somewhere else. Or not really somewhere else, but the lands have changed.
Gone is the Beqanna he knew, instead only the general areas were still there. Even from afar he could recognize the meadow and the field, just like plenty of other places. But the lands, the kingdoms, were gone. What the fuck had happened? Hadn’t Beqanna already punished them enough? Or had there still been others out there that had angered her? It had to be that, otherwise there wouldn’t have been such a big change.
Somehow he’s pretty relaxed under this all, well, that was until he realised that both his lovers were gone. The Tundra seemed pretty non-existent, and although that really saddened him – the had lived for the kingdom – it wasn’t as bad as not knowing where Roan was. Igni was nowhere to be seen either. Brynmor calls out to them, his whinny echoing across the mountain, as he starts declining. He doesn’t go as fast as he wants himself to be, in fact, he was way too slow. It was already so strange to him, how bad would Roan experience the changes? He had to find her, and soon, he had to make sure she was alright. The thought of his bay roan lover not being here, stuck or lost somewhere in between these lands and the prior ones, frightened him. Roan just had to be here.
”Roan!” He calls her, for the nth time, his voice almost starting to get raspy. There were others, looking just as distressed and confused as he was, but none of them had been his petite Roan. Like really, where could she be? He increases his pace, pushing himself to go further, which only results in Brynmor losing his footing as rocks crumble underneath his hooves. He lands on his knees, bruising and scratching them, sliding down a couple of meters before he’s able to stand up again. He could heal, Roan was more important right now. As he stands still his sides are heaving and seat had started to show on his thick coat. He calls out, loudly, one last time, and then holding his breath to make sure he would be able to hear her answer.
BRYNMOR
@[roan]
@[isle] ; Not really sure if we were doing this or not? But feel free to join <3
Or is it that they make molehills out of mountains?
Everything is topsy-turvy and turned all upside down!
She is on a mountain;
Can feel the rocks under her feet that tell her as much.
Can smell Springtime in the air - a billowy breath of flowers and breeze.
Up on a mountain…
There seems to be something not altogether right about this.
Home lacked the height of this mountain and she cannot smell the caves nearby. That alarms her; if this is not that mountain and there are no caves, then where is she? She cannot see - her eyes stare blindly (pun!) at everything and anything as panic seizes hold of her. It bubbles up grossly in her throat and numbs her limbs, making them feel thick and unresponsive. Maybe that was just from the lack of air; it had thinned out quite a bit up here - here, where there never was or used to be a remnant of rock.
Her senses are facing an overload; there is entirely too much stimuli for her to focus on. Sound assaults her ears untils he pins them back to her head. Smells assail her nose until she breathes out heavily in a pant. She hears one horse call out to another but something about the call is oddly familiar… it is her lover! He is still here! Excitement courses through her limbs and she is on the verge of running to him when she halts - paused; remembering that she cannot run up here because she is uncertain of her footing.
The bay roan mare treads the path with caution;
It will not do to come to him with scraped knees, sides heaving, and his name a wheeze on her lips.
Instead she calls to him in a whinnying long word that is his name - “Brynmor!” and she pushes all the love she feels for that stallion into her voice. “I’m over here!”
Is it really always like that? You cannot be sure, but in their case it is how it works.
He is just about to take a deep breath – finally after holding it to be able to hear all clearly – when her answer reaches his ears. There are no words to express the relief that washes over him, like a weight that got lifted of his shoulders. Roan. She’s alive, she’s here. Yet his worries aren’t all gone just yet, he had to make sure she was okay, that she was safe and back at his side again. Or he at hers? He answers her call.
Brynmor’s eyes aren’t able to see his lover against the rocky terrain of the mountain. Instead his ears told him from which direction her answer had come and he sets of in that direction. Ignoring his burning knees he pushes himself forward, climbing up the mountain again in a too hurried pace. The thin air, rocky ground and exhaustion slowed him down, but simply walking would take him too long to reach Roan. He needed to see her and it had to be now. He’s panting and his coat all drenched. His thick Tundra winter coat wasn’t meant for this.
And then, finally, he recognizes the silhouette of the petite bay roan mare. ”Roan!” Brynmor’s pace has slowed down, but his walk is fast as he refuses to give in to his burning muscles. He could do at least this much for her. Tears of relief are shimmering in his eyes as his muzzle reaches out to brush lightly across her cheek. Over and over again he mumbles her name, almost like he couldn’t believe that she was really there. ”How are you? Are you okay?” his voice laced with worry and concern, overflowing with love.
For a moment he moves backwards, to quickly glance over her body. She seemed okay, unharmed, but he had to be sure. He wouldn’t risk losing her. But the distance is too much, so he steps closer towards Roan again, his muzzle nuzzling her mane and deeply breathing in her scent. There are so many things Brynmor wants to say, how much he had missed her, how worried he had been, or that he had been afraid to lose her. But instead he stays silent, just basking himself in her presence.
Roan listens for him to respond back to her, certain that he will and he does!
Relief chases that shadows off her face and she looks terribly young in that moment - young and trusting and so very much in love.
He calls her name again, and she can hear his hooves slide against the rocks, knocking some of them loose and they go rolling down off the sides of the mountain. Her small body is shaking from elation and exhaustion as she anticipates his approach, her nostrils flaring as she strives to suck in his familiar scent - gods, she has missed him so! It has been more terrible since the Mountain sucked up all the magic and the lands and left them all scattered across her slopes. But he is there --
She feels his muzzle brush her cheek and she turns her head into him, bringing her muzzle to his shoulder as she echoes his name back into his skin. Roan is about to ask about their daughter but he is asking if she is okay and all she can do is nod her assurance to him even as she lends it voice, “I’m fine darling, but what of Igni? Please tell me she is okay…” She cannot help the plea in her voice as she asks him that. Hell, she’d even accept a lie at this moment until they were down off the Mountain if she just has hope to cling to.
But she can feel his muzzle in her mane again and it distracts her from thoughts of their daughter. She loves the girl but knows she is sharp enough to survive, even as she sighs and buries her face in Brynmor’s shoulder. Roan cannot get enough of his smell and tries to rub it all across her face so that she can always smell him when she breathes in the thin air up here. There are things that she wants to say too, but they go unsaid.
Of course he had thought about their daughter too and of course he was worried about her wellbeing. But at the same time he also knew that Igni would be able to manage herself. Not that Roan couldn’t, he knew she could, but it was different nonetheless. His priority was to get the bay roan mare down the mountain, safe and sound, and then, then he would go back to look for Igni. Hopefully he would be able to find her just as quick as he had managed to find Roan.
Her question, however, is something else. He can hear the plea in her voice and he understands that she needs to be assured that their daughter was doing fine. But he could not tell her a lie. Once Brynmor had made a mistake and he had sworn to never do such a thing again. ”I’m sure she is fine. She probably has found her way down the mountain already.” He tries to assure her, hoping that his words would be enough, even though he couldn’t guarantee Igni’s safety.
Instead he presses his muzzle against her skin again, hoping that his touch would comfort her a little. It was as much as he could do right now. Brynmor keeps his lover close, never moving or pulling away, breathing in her scent. Time passes as they stand there, the cold not so much bothering him, not as much as the thin air. Their breaths rises to the sky in little white clouds, but it gets harder each breath he takes. ”Shall we go down? We can look for her once we’ve reached the vale.” He pulls away a little to look at her, once again trying to reassure himself that she is indeed okay.
