"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
06-02-2015, 01:23 AM (This post was last modified: 06-02-2015, 01:23 AM by Tinsel.)
fiasko
Elysteria makes mention of the Gate’s current ruler and Fiasko nods her scarred head in agreement. “Yes actually. We are currently ruled by a mare by the name of Camelia.” Though for who knows how much longer - the kingdom is currently in the process of electing a new ruler. Fiasko herself might be on that throne soon …
That fact is still so bizarre to her.
She is a little disappointed however to hear that the Dale sounds exactly like the Gates. She would have thought a mythical kingdom would be well, more interesting? Though she had not heard that their king Tiphon is an angel … whatever that means.
“The Gates is much the same. I am personally part of the peace caste.” She smiles wryly. “I wouldn’t be very good at fighting.” The year of malnutrition in her youth permanently stunted her growth and weakened her bones. She would be easily crushed by any half-competent fighter.
The stallion begins to speak about his own past and her ears flick forward attentively. She likes to hear more about the world - her own knowledge is so limited after all. And this land that he speaks of - Gregor Valley - is one that she’s never heard of before. It seems fascinating, both similar and dissimilar to Beqanna.
She wants to ask what he means by his ‘precarious attribute,’ but she feels that he probably would have gone into more detail if he wished to. And she doesn’t want to pry. Instead she chuckles awkwardly. “Well, I am rather untalented.” Unremarkable really. The only thing that makes her memorable is the ruin that is her face. And that’s not a talent. “What made you decide to come to Beqanna?” She’s being unusually forward today. Where is this newfound confidence coming from? “Sorry, I should stop prying!”
If she were asked, she would freely admit to a growing curiosity about the stallion standing before them. While he speaks easily of his past homes, he is not entirely forthcoming. The red mare can fully understand an unwillingness to share. She has her own secrets and past shames she refuses to speak of. Still, her curiosity does not wane.
A small smile touches her lips as he mentions the dichotomy in belonging to both the peace and war castes. Perhaps the term ‘peace caste’ was a misnomer in some respects. She had never been an especially fierce or war-like mare. Her forte had always been in conversation. But necessity had forced her to learn battle skills. And though it was perhaps not her first response to any situation, she had become quite good at it as a result. Good enough to win her immortality, at least. Because of this, she is able to respond easily to his comment.
“Sometimes, not easily. But the two are not mutually exclusive. In war, you need ambassadors to broker peace, or the war would never end. And, though we may wish it so, peace does not always last forever. If negotiations do not go as planned, it can be beneficial to know how to extract yourself if necessary.”
The conversation continues then as he gives a brief description of his previous homes. Her dark ears remain tipped forward as she listens to what he, then Fiasko, have to say. She cannot help but find the other mare’s questions, followed by her sudden shyness, somewhat charming. A smile once again touches her lips.
“Not entirely untalented, I am sure.”
Her gaze moves back to Weir as she adds a question of her own.
“I must admit that I am curious as well. Are you looking for something specific? Not just in Beqanna, but in a new home.”
06-10-2015, 04:55 PM (This post was last modified: 06-14-2015, 07:28 AM by Weir.)
He listened some more as they each spoke. His amber gaze changing between the two fluidly as they spoke in turns, answering questions or adding to the general conversation.
A funny, fickle thing fate was he thought as he was asked what had brought him to these lands. Truth be told, he wasn't sure, it was always a different reason when he felt compelled to travel somewhere. To break up his existence with periods of time spent in lands outside his own home. Sometimes there was something to be learned form the visit, others it was to meet someone, and still others he ended providing assistance to a new friend. Being the reason the for the trip himself, now those were always peculiar to him. As was the case, he wasn't sure what the purpose of this excursion was, no more than he knew the outcome. A poor answer, but he would manage, somehow, he always did.
"Well, what I seek and why I am here are for the most part of the same reasons. I feel the need to be here. I seek to find out what that reason might be. It varies, from place to place," Of course as expected that only left more room for questions, so he provided his latest explanation. "Why, my last visit to Trist I came across a very important piece of information. My home land had been suffering a time from a drought, very odd thing we had never had any issues with before. Turns out, a magician there had a hand in it. A bitter old woman, she felt spurned by an uncle of mine, some years ago. As they say, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."He chuckled on that last bit, perhaps a joke to himself, one others might not necessarily find the humor in. For a moment he had forgotten he was in fact in the presence of woman, and quickly his laughter ended. A small almost choke escaped his maw as he righted his expression, feeling a bit contrite.
"Well of course I had to make things right again, she took a time of convincing but in the end we saw eye to eye. I'm sure there will be much to learn here, or many for me to meet for that matter." His tail flicked this way and that as he allowed himself to relax a bit more, his taught muscles finally releasing. Though his eyes again took on that lost with nowhere to go look, as his last sentence left his muzzle. He didn't particularly enjoy that part of his life, the not knowing, though he doubted anyone really did. He shook his head, an attempt to rid his brain from its confusion, a mess of mane flying everywhere. A lock of red falling between his eyes, before his vision cleared and his stomach settled,golden pools resting on the bay.
Trust your gut the saying always went, well why was it Weir's gut always wanted so much from him?
