"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
It is by pure chance that Merida has come across the Hills. Maybe it wasn’t chance, though. Maybe something actually led her here. Call it intuition or fate – either way, the black mare, flecked with tiny spots of fiery red, finds herself perched atop a rolling hill, staring down at a new land that she hasn’t explored yet.
She had been getting quite tired of the meadow and all the memories that she had there (however short-lived her residence was). The image of the hauntingly peculiar twins, Virus and Venom, still cling to her mind. The thought of them causes her muscled flesh to twitch as a shiver rolls up her spine. They may have saved her life (or maybe they spared it?), but the typically kind-hearted yet strong spirited mare was forced to do something she had never thought she would do. Merida tosses her head with an aggressive snort to rid them from her mind, but she knows they will linger there for a long while.
Electric red tendrils of mane and forelock fall gently against her ebony skin as her brilliant green eyes stare out at the rolling hills before her. Scent of other equine fill her nostrils, and though the land seems quite barren when it came to residents, Merida knew that some would be lurking nearby. She’s unsure if she wishes to continue venturing into the unknown area, which makes her angry. She’s never hesitated before, why should she now?
She waits, though not patiently (she’s never been patient). Merida also has never been one to stay in one place for long, but her encounter in the meadow has slightly changed her disposition. She wouldn’t say that she needed a ‘family’, as some would call it. But she needed protection – she needed loyalty.
Especially if those twins (or their family) ever get their grasp on her again.
The Tin Man was feeling a lot better after his waterlogged arrival to Beqanna; his scabbed-over flank still ached when he galloped too long, but galloping for any length of time was a pretty good improvement from "tired and creaky."
He wasn't really sure what he'd find in the hilly region near the mountains, but it turned out to be another black horse with spots... only her spots were red, as were her mane and tail. Well, that wasn't QUITE normal--clearly one of her parents or ancestors had been part of the island's population--but to the stallion's credit, he'd gotten a lot more used to the whole "magic" deal over the past week, so it wasn't like he was gonna run in the opposite direction. (He was too tired for that anyway.)
He cantered over to her, slowing down a few yards off so she wouldn't get startled. "Hello," he called. "Do you know if anyone lives here?" He hadn't heard much about the hills from Djinni's quick talk, but it seemed pretty empty.
04-16-2017, 08:38 PM (This post was last modified: 04-16-2017, 08:39 PM by crota.)
C R O T A
It's one of those rare weeks that Crota isn't out scouring the field and meadow for potential recruits. Instead she is spending her time among the hills, napping as the gentle breeze wraps around her gently and trickles through her mane. She is doing well so far at this recruiting thing, atleast she hopes that is the case. It may not always be fruitful, but it is her efforts that matter. For when one works hard enough eventually everything falls into place... Right?
Though she had learned during this process that it was important to rest and remain in her home inbetween these ventures, being the support that the rest that resided here needed and most importantly, expected. So here she stood, among the hills, watching over those who came and went and occasionally allowing herself to nap every few hours. It was one of those peaceful weeks that moved slowly, without much activity. Though within the silence and inactivity came the silent promise that more would emerge from from it.
Unlike Merida, she hadn't had a rough childhood or evil siblings. In all actuality, she hadn't had any siblings at all. After her parents had given her life they had chosen to try and try again but had never been able to produce another. Which had been fine with her. In her youngest years she had enjoyed being the only one. Though as she had gotten older she had began to learn to appreciate the comfort that being around others could bring her. Spear and Caw and shown her that this would be possible just by their joining her here on day one.
Though it's through these memories that she hears the sound of hoof beats below, causing her to be torn away from the vivid images of her spotted parents and the all black mare alongside the painted stallion. Slowly she looked down across the hills below, searching for the one whose hoof beats ring throughout the silence until finally she spots the stranger. The stranger's coat is as dark as night and for a moment she thought the mare was Caw, finally coming out from the shadows, until she sees the bright red of her mane and tail.
With a tilt of her head, she watches the other out of curiosity for a moment before her attention is drawn away to another set of hoof beats echoing through the hills. With a turn of her head she notices an unknown stallion, just as black yet with bright white spots dancing across his coat, approaching the other. She watches as the stallion speaks to the other and though she can not hear them, she is suddenly intrigued by them both. For a moment she waits before letting out a gentle nicker of greeting and moving forward at a trot.
With graceful movements despite her short stocky legs, the spotted mare finds her way down through the hills at a quick trot. Approaching the pair, she comes to a stop in-between them both before nodding once more in the form of a greeting. "Hello, I'm Crota, welcome to the hills." For a moment she pauses her eyes switching from one to the other. "How can I help you both today?"
She’s in an undetermined land, but she is not afraid. She stands, unwavering at the soft roll of a hill, her flaming tendrils twisting around her black face as she stares out into unknown. It is quiet here, much quieter than it was in the meadow or forest (or even the field), and for that, Merida was thankful. In a way, Merida also was trying to escape the magic that infiltrated all of Beqanna. She, of course, did not realize this was one of her reasons for venturing out beyond the places of familiar territory. But if she were to think about it a little bit harder, she would come to the understanding that what the two fillies made her do only a few months ago in the dead of winter was something that she would come to be wary of – those who had too much power. The black mare, flecked with red, flinches slightly at the sound of a voice next to her. Her blazing eyes find the stallion easily, and she snorts in amusement. Even from a few yards away and announcing his presence, she still had become startled at his approach. She lowers her head slightly, appearing bashful to the stranger. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, a hint of a Scottish lilt in her voice as she apologizes for her recoiling and lack of overall awareness in a new land. “I’m not myself lately.” This last bit was almost to her self, trying to comfort her own mind with the idea that the reason she is standoffish and quite oblivious of her surroundings was merely because she was feeling ‘off’. He seems to be venturing onto the land at around the same time she has and for some reason his presence gave Merida some space to relax (not that she was paying enough attention to begin with to be overly cautious). The muscles beneath her red-flecked coat unwind slightly, a back hoof tipping as she shifts her weight. “I’ve about as much information as you,” she says flatly, eyes turning to scan the rolling green hills that spread out before them. Almost as if on cue, a gentle nicker catches Merida’s ears. Her eyes rest on the source – a small, strong mare was coming towards them (her and the unknown stallion were a ‘them’ now to her, yes), greeting the duo with kind eyes. Merida watches her cautiously, unabashedly scanning the mare, called Crota, for any signs of malicious intent. There was none (of course Merida wouldn’t know just by looking – she didn’t have any powers to let her know any different), and with a snort, the ebony mare nods her head towards the spotted mare in greeting. “It seems we have our answer,” she states coolly, her eyes flicking towards the stallion beside her, a glimmer of a smile on her dark lips. “Merida.” She introduces herself quite casually to both the stallion and to Crota. To be honest, the spotted mare’s question was a loaded one, though Crota wouldn’t have any clue as to why it would be. Of course, Merida couldn’t just tell a complete stranger that she needs somewhere to live and to feel protected – that would be too pathetic and Merida does not want pity. She also desperately wants to answer Crota’s question with her own: Are you going to be able to help me? Merida decides to save that question for a later time, and rightly so. “I’m somewhat of an explorer. The new lands that have just sprung up have interested me and I couldn’t help but travel.” A pause. “The hills are by far the most peaceful.” Which the red-flecked mare liked – peaceful, quiet, no sign of those who wish to torment for the sake of torment…at least not yet.
"Same here," the Tin Man said to Merida. "I mostly came here because, well--" He flicked his head at his scabbed-over flank. "I got kind of banged up when I made it to the beach."
He turned to Crota. "Hello. I'm... not really sure what that would entail. Mostly I just want to avoid getting into fights for a while. At least until my side heals up."
