"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
02-11-2017, 08:23 PM (This post was last modified: 02-11-2017, 08:24 PM by Rora.)
You need never feel broken again.
“Okay, little moonbeam, go have fun. And if any of the other kids are mean to you, let me know and I’ll yell at them ‘til they cry for their mommies, you got it?” Momma pulls me close and snuggles me real tight for a minute, tight enough that it’s almost hard to breathe. She’s not so good at letting go, my momma, but that’s okay, ‘cause she loves me lots and lots. I’ve got a couple of big sisters somewhere that I still haven’t met, and I think maybe that’s part of why she holds on so tight sometimes, tucking me up against her side and letting the light play for me and smiling down at me with this sad, wistful look in her eyes that goes away as soon as she notices I’m watching. Poor Momma. Maybe I’ll meet them someday, anyhow. For now, well, Momma’s pretty great and it’s not so bad to be squeezed tight and wrapped up in love.
“Okay, Momma!” I grin up at her when she finally does let go, and I kiss her on the cheek before I trot off, my big blue eyes a little extra big as I look around at the playground for the very first time. There’s so many spots to explore, a million billion trillion fun things to do, and I don’t have even a little bit of an idea where to start. But probably finding somebody to explore with is a good idea, right? Just as I’m thinking it, a pretty yellow butterfly flutters past my face, and I light right up and my tail starts to waggle, and my whole body starts to wiggle, and I grin. “Oh hi there, new friend!” I stretch out a little, trying to get closer, trying to maybe catch the butterfly on my nose because I bet its wings are tickly and fun. It’s a little dizzy trying to look at it when it’s almost on my nose, but that’s okay, because how’m I gonna catch it on my nose if I’m not looking?
I just about manage it, too, but riiiight before my nose touches it, the tricksy little flutterby fans out its pretty wings and catches the breeze, and it butter-flutters away. “Hey no wait though! Come back, new friend, I wanted to play! Ohhh is this the game?” Of course, we must be playing tag! Or at least catch me, or come get me, or maybe follow the leader! Ooooh all of those sound like fun! With a happy little grin, I bounce after the butterfly, trying to mimic its floaty wobbly bouncy gait as it meanders through the trees. ‘Cept I maybe forget to watch where my feet are going, and suddenly I’m tripping-rolling-tumbling into something far more solid than a fluttery little butterfly. “Oof! 'Scuse me, sorry, I got 'stracted by my new butterfly friend and sorta...lost track of my feet. Hi, I'm Rora!”
He is perhaps fortunate in one sense that he has relative freedom when compared to other youth. Oh, his parents love him, of this he has no doubt. But after eight children, it is probably easy to get a little more relaxed in the hovering department.
And Fox takes full advantage of that.
He is quite capable of getting into trouble and had managed to do so already with alarming frequency, but he also seems to have the uncanny ability of extracting himself from that trouble.
So he's not exactly sure what drew him to the playground over any number of other places where more adventure is to be had, but here he is. Perhaps it is his desire to find other friends his age, or perhaps it is because he'd left this place rather unexplored on his last visit. Whatever the reason, he can currently be found traipsing through what is probably the safest land in all of Beqanna, head high, eyes bright, and short, fluffy tail bobbing with each step he takes.
Given his relative attention, it is surprising that he doesn't notice the little black filly at first. But then, it has already been well established that Fox is relatively absent-minded and unobservant when he has other things on his mind. In any case, he doesn't actually notice her until she is tumbling into him.
His amber eyes widen in alarm as he is knocked off balance in a tumble of long, knobby limbs and foal fluff. Somehow, he has the presence of mind to call a snow drift for him to fall into. Less fortunately, he seems to have miscalculated a bit and instead lands on the hard ground with a rather large pile of snow on top of him.
Sputtering, he flails until he manages to extricate himself and scramble back to his feet. His speckled red form is quite coated in snow, but with a quick shake, he sends a great shower of rapidly melting moisture flying as a highly amused grin tugs at his lips.
”Well, Rora,” he responds brightly, eyes lifting to find hers, humor coloring his tone. It's nice to, er, run into you.” He smiles in truth then, a rather lopsided grin that speaks of his good, if somewhat mischievous, nature. ”I'm Fox.”
Oh. Oh my. I maybe didn’t actually look to see who or even what I was apologizing to ‘til it ended up being something that actually talked back, instead of a tree or a bush or a goat or a...um...monkey? One of the big orange kind that are all hairy and funny-faced and wait what? OH! Right! I bumped into a boy. My big blue eyes go even bigger, all wide with surprise as I meet his. Oh and they’re this pretty shade of golden, like sunshine and snuggles and daytime lullabies, and I bet those snuggles would be extra warm and cozy!
He grins, this shining happy crooked grin that makes my heart do a funny little flip in my chest, and I grin right back at him. “Fox! That’s a most excellent name. I like foxes. They look soft and warm and kinda mischiefy, which is a fantastic combination. Are you soft and warm and mischiefy too, is that why you’re Fox? I’m Rora ‘cause my momma makes light dance in pretty patterns called auroras, and that was my first almost-word, and Momma got all wide eyed and gooey and happy and said I was her little Rora. An’ it sounds kinda like my daddy’s name, which makes it extra special good.” I stop to take a breath, and maybe my grin’s a little bit dizzy-like, but it’s only ‘cause--wait, whoa, is that snow?
I blink, and back up a little in my head to try to remember when it snowed and how ‘cause it’s too early for snow. “Oh hey! That’s a cool trick!” I say, when I notice what I was too distracted by his cozy amber eyes to catch at first. “Very neat. You can do like my momma can with light, but with snow? That sounds like all sorts of fun! Can I play with it?”
It's easy to see, even for a boy like Fox, who is generally oblivious to these things, that she is just as surprised as he had been. Had he known her thoughts, he would have laughed even harder. A monkey? Really? He'd never been compared to a monkey before, but it would have been an entertaining thought. Had Lynx, one of his best friends (of course, she would likely disagree) despite their disparate personalities, been here, she probably would would have relished the chance to tell him just what was on Rora's mind. He would be equally delighted in showing her just how apt he could make such a descriptor.
But alas, she is not. He has only theories of foxes to contend with and not that of monkeys or goats.
His grin widens as words continue to tumble from the small girl's mouth. He is a chatty sort, but she has him beaten by miles. He finds himself rather charmed by her rambling musings. When she stops to draw breath, he manages to interject himself however. He would never be one to allow a conversation without him. ”Well little Rora for aurora, I suppose you could say that. Maybe, I guess. Momma said I look like a fox, so I'm Fox.” His grin turns a little bit mischievous then, providing ample proof for her speculations. ”For the rest, you'll just have to hang around and find out, won't you?”
Only then does she appear to notice the snow he had had the misfortune of throwing on top of himself. The warmth of the day is causing it to become quite sticky. Perfect for a snowball fight, if one were so inclined. And one had hands, of course, or Fox's abilities.
Indicating the snow with a tip of his head, he offers her an amused, ”I certainly won't stop you.” before turning his gaze to consider the wet snow. A sudden gleam comes to his eye as he turns to study Rora once more.
His grin turns positively wicked as he uses his ability to lift and form a small, round ball of snow and says, ”Hey Rora, catch!” With no further ado, he lobs the snowball at her.
