"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
His steps are short and forceful as he steps out of the trees and into the meadow. A loud snort escapes him as he clears the cover of the trees and spots a winged stallion off in the distance. More and more horses have begun regaining their accursed traits as of late, and it frustrates him that the fairies would be so cavalier with the future of this new Beqanna. The traited ones have proven time and time again that they are not to be trusted with their power … it seems utterly foolish to give them a second chance.
But, at least he is not alone in seeing the truth this time. He has … companions, of sorts, now. Companions that also see the dangers magic and its users can pose. If they put their minds together (and they certainly will), they will surely be able to think of something, some solution to the problem that they face. Not that he’s overly optimistic - he strongly doubts that they will find any way to convince the fairies to remove the abilities of the traited yet again. But, perhaps … perhaps they can find another solution. One where he and his companions can find a way to not be bothered by the traited.
For now though, he’s forced to live with them. Or at least live with their presence. With one eye on the winged stallion he begins walking away in the opposite direction from the creature. He might have to accept the fact that the beast is there, but it doesn't mean that he has to approach and talk to it.
T
I watched the stallions, one with wings, one without move away from each other, the wingless one almost disgusted by the other's wings. I started out of the forest towards the wingless one, noting his coat color. Strangely, he resembled Kreios and I wondered whether he was a son of his or not.
Once I was far into his hearing range, I started a hello. "Hi." I say simply to him, looking at his spotted coat. If he was my father, then I certainly didn't inherit his coloration. I was a greyish black with primitive markings, like many of my siblings and family.
The sound of approaching hooves distracts him from the nearby winged beast, and his dark head swings about to see a young mare approaching him. At the sight of her he’s instantly transported back to over two years ago, when he’d run into a young mare in the meadow. Their encounter had been brief, but Szeth has not been with many mares, and he remembers all of them. And this particular young mare that is approaching … she is the spitting image of that mare. Only younger.
It’s a bit unsettling.
He shakes his head slightly as she draws closer, trying to unsuccessfully shake the feeling of deja vu. The mare greets him and he forces a return smile and nod. “Hello.” He is not so unnerved that he forgets to check her over, and his brown eyes briefly scan her body. He is pleased when he notices no outward sign of traits, but he knows well that it does not guarantee that the girl is clean - so many of the traited hide their foul abilities beneath the surface.
He cannot help his curiosity however, and his mouth moves to ask before he entirely realizes what he is doing. “This may seem an odd question … you wouldn’t happen to be related to a mare by the name of Blazed, would you?”
Watching the black-and-white spotted stallion, she acknowledges his hello. A few brief memories appear, her mother telling her she was quite unlike her father.. But she couldn't remember what Mum had said her father looked like. She stumbled back, confused, when he asked the odd question. She decided it wouldn't help to deceive here, and so she spoke the truth. After a few seconds of silent debate - emotions played across her facial features as she thought with an intense focus - she started to speak. "She's my mum." She says simply, her ears flickering between facing outwards and forwards as she listens to her surroundings.
Her cross-caste lessons had, apparently, served her well in keeping an eye on a situation's location, and, well, I guess she'd call them the "elements" of the area - the horses, sounds, voices, scents and the weather. If it was raining, she'd have a better chance in an open space, ie a grove or heath. If thundering, she'd have to risk the forest. If even weather, like it was at the moment, she knew she'd have to find a thick forest to truly evade the chase with her tactics..
If he decided to do something to her, she knew she was screwed. "Why.. Why did you want to know?" She asks quietly, then cursing herself when she realized exactly what she asked. She realized multiple minutes had passed between her reply and then her accursed query, and her ears flicked back for a few seconds before settling for a guarded location - forward but not quite showing curiosity or interest.
She’s taken aback by the question, and he doesn’t blame her - it’s an odd thing to be asked by someone you’ve just met. But, to her credit, she answers, and understanding blooms. “Your mum, eh? Figures.” No wonder she looks so similar to Blazed.
Rather understandably she questions him and he tries to assuage the awkwardness of the situation with a crooked smile. “I met your mother once. A few years ago now.” Ehhh he’s not going to go deeper into that situation. He’s sure she knows about her mother’s activities, and she doesn’t need all the little details. “You look quite a bit like her. Almost identical in fact.”
His speckled head cocks to the side as he stares at the girl. There’s something … not quite right about this situation. Something he can’t quite put his hoof on. Then suddenly the metaphorical lightbulb goes on. “Say … how old are you?” It seems … quite possible. She appears to be the right age - between two and three. He just hadn’t thought about the possibility. He’s met so few of his children (not that he has many children to begin with), and those that he has met (his dear Sin Killer and Nefertem - god he wishes he knew where they are) have at least shown some similarity to him, in face if not in colour.
But this girl … a little shiver runs through his skin. What are the odds of him potentially running into his daughter in the meadow?
An odd look at the stallion lasts the freshly-mare Mandalocks a few minutes. Her ears swivel as she listens to her surroundings for the next few moments before he speaks again. "Three since spring.. Why?" She says, now a small amount of suspicion in her gut. She doesn't quite trust him to be honest.. But he seems disturbed at the fact that Blazed is her mother, and that she looks like her.
Speaking of looking liking her mother, she tilts her head to look at him. "Why..?" She asks with a guarded tone, starting to become worried with how much he seemed perturbed. He didn't seem to look like her sister, and she didn't look like her - from what she remembers of her own form from looking at herself in water - much. How likely was it, now that she considered it, that they had different fathers? Quite likely, she presumed - whether that would be for better or for worse, she didn't know at the moment.
@[Szeth]
Three years …. three years … oh god. She could be.
She could be his daughter.
“Well, uh …” How on earth does one talk about this sort of thing? “I don’t know there’s a way to be more delicate about this but, your mother and I had … relations, about … four years ago. I could be your father.” There’s no way to be certain of course, without actually consulting with the girl’s mother. He doesn’t know Blazed all that well, for all he knows, she could be the sort to have relations with several stallions a season.
But somehow … somehow he suspects that is not the case. He feels almost certain that the girl standing in front of him is his daughter.
Of all the odds. “I’m Szeth, by the way.” Oops, he probably should have started with that. “Has your mother ever mentioned me?” I mean, he wouldn’t expect her to wax poetic about their brief fling, but maybe she’s mentioned him to the girl.
The mare started to remember a conversation she'd overheard, where her mother had mentioned this stallion-and-maybe-my-father named Szeth and whether to tell Mandalocks. She's previously ignored the topic, and never asked or hinted towards it, but she had wondered more as she grew older, until the name buzzed like a fly in her mind.
"Once, she said something with your name in it. She was talking to somebody else; I wasn't listening closely." She says, the pure truth in her voice, obvious in her eyes she was being honest. She had been only a yearling, and didn't bother much with politics and men yet then.
"Where do you live, now?" She asks, reluctantly, out of curiosity. She wanted to know her father-but-maybe-not-father. She wanted to know whether he was worth remembrance and visitation or whether he should be forgotten once Mandalocks returns to her home in Sylva.
He can see the young mare thinking, and he waits with undisguised curiosity as she tries to wrack her brains.
And then … yes, he’s been mentioned. It makes it all the more likely that he is the girl’s father. It wouldn’t make much sense to mention a random fling to your child otherwise, would it? “Then perhaps I am your father. You should ask Blazed … your mother I mean. She’d be able to confirm it.” Or not. She really doesn’t look like him in the slightest, but she does obviously take after her mother.
She asks after where he lives, and a wry smile crosses his face. “Here in the meadow for the moment, most days anyway. I used to have a herd in a little place called Paradise Beach, but after the change, I couldn’t find anyone. They’re all gone.” Of course, his herd had been dwindling long before that (it’s hard to find mares that see the traited for what they truly are), but she doesn’t need to know the details. “None of the new lands have really appealed to me.” That is to say, they are full of former traited beings in the process of trying to regain their traits. He had been hopeful for Hellbane’s vision of a land and leadership that at least recognized the dangers of magic … but it appears more and more likely these days that his vision will come to naught.
He can’t help but let out a tiny sight at that thought, but he re-plasters the smile on his face, and turns the question on the girl (who still hasn’t named herself, he abruptly realizes). “What about you? Where do you call home?” Likely one of the new territories - so few recognize the dangers they pose. “What’s your name, by the way?”
Paradise Beach.. She'd heard that name before - maybe that's why she slightly recognized his name? They're all gone. She feels sorry for him, she knew what it was like to be alone when she was separated from the rest. "I live in Sylva. I found, after about a fortnight of being alone and separated from anyone I knew, the rest of the ones I knew from the Falls. We were granted the autumn-forest land. It's as close to home as we'll get here." She shares, then he asks her name.
She's slightly nervous; has she given more than she should? Mandalocks doesn't know his intent. Is he going to want to try to claim her? Hold her in his harem - if he has one yet - until she can break free or contact Sylva for help? "Mandalocks." She states blandly, as if the topic is nothing of importance, and her mouth moved against her will.
She noted that they had similar builds; the same short back, the same small knees, the large, sprung-rib frame. How likely is it, she wondered, for them to, indeed, be related? She knew they were both likely assuming based upon the facts.
