"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
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
The day following Tangerine's very real (and very accurate) nightmare, Amet decides to wander south. He moves unbothered through Loess before finding the forest of Sylva, it's autumn colored leaves greeting him brightly. The sun is warm here, despite it being winter, and Amet is pleased that his wandering today has not led him to any place that is blanketed in snow. His leather scales have proven a better match for the cold than his metallic coat had ever been, but the Akhal-Teke stallion can't help that his preference leans whole-heartedly towards the warmth. It's the desert in him.
The scent of Castile is present and strong as the dragon king meanders between trees and over-sized boulders, his bright amber eyes taking in the unfamiliar scenery of Djinni's kingdom. At first, Amet had been unsure whether or not Castile had decided to simply take a late night stroll away from Hyaline, but when the dragon-winged son of Nayl hadn't returned that morning, the gilded king had investigated and caught scent of their sister kingdom. Curious.
He calls loudly, an echoing whinny, though continues to explore the territory instead of waiting at the border. A dark-colored bird resting in the canopy catches his attention and Amet raises his head to watch it, his gold and bronze scales glistening around his muscled neck as he does so. The bird seems equally as intrigued, its head cocked to the side with beady black eyes staring down at the scaled creature. Amet halts now and maintains eye contact with the creature, wondering how long it has called Sylva home.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Taiga had been his first target that night. A dense forest on a moonless night; where could be more perfect? He’d underestimated their leader though, the icy Ruan. He’ll not abandon her permanently, but that night at least it had been easier to choose another target.
Who better than a friend living in a place he knows well? It had been almost too easy to slip in and slip out with @[Castile]. The two are friends, sharing more than just their black and white hides. As children the two had been more similar than they are now, and Ivar realizes that his own scaled hide is similar to Amet’s. The tall horse has come to stand abreast of Amet, having slipped up on his right from a lesser known trail.
It’s easy enough to see what has caught Amet’s eye: one of the plentiful dark birds. They are no jewel bright parrots like those of Ischia or Tephra. They are soft, brown, and unassuming.
“They collect shiny things,” he says, gesturing to the magpie ahead of them. “He’s probably trying to decide if he can carry some bit of you off to his treasure hoard.” Ivar knows from experience. The matte black scales that cover most of his body are of no interest to the bird – they do not glitter. It is the pearlescent glow of his handsome face, muscular legs, and the splash of white across his withers that draw them in.
He’d taught one a tough lesson with his sharp flashing teeth and since then the rest of the flock has kept their distance. They are clever birds, but he’s not sure they’ll be able to extrapolate from one scaled horse to another. Ivar’s scales are thin – slick and smooth yet remarkably impenetrable. The dragon Ivar might resemble was clearly a dragon of the sea.
“What can I do for you, Amet?” It’s been a while since the two had met. The first time, Amet had been the one to find Ivar inside the borders of his kingdom. The piebald had been a child then, and now he’s nearly a man. It’s a startling realization, especially the timing of it. Given that he’s facing the leader of a land he’d recently stolen from might explain it though.
Castile thought nothing of it when Ivar slipped into Hyaline in the dead of night and led him back to Sylva. He had just been there to inform Djinni of the renegades scorching his home. Why was he being led back? To hang out as friends, of course, right? He thinks nothing of it as he follows closely to Ivar as they submerge themselves into the deciduous forest of Sylva.
Since the invasion, Castile has settled his nerves, and has in turn molded back into his typical self. The scales disappeared and his eyes no longer gleamed like that of a dragon’s. He is simply Castile again, a tobiano boy with dragon wings coiled against his sides. His mismatched eyes more eagerly drink in his surroundings this time since he is no longer in a rush. His stay here is more leisurely, more relaxed.
Only moments after Ivar reaches Amet’s side does Castile soon appear with a broad smile stretching across his lips. ”Amet,” the boy greets, ”I told Djinni about Hyaline. I passed on the message as you asked.” He didn’t want to seem like he abandoned the mission or that he failed his leader – friend? – in times of need.
But then he falls quiet, settling comfortably in this triangle of scaled brethren, curious as to what will transpire.
07-15-2017, 05:22 PM (This post was last modified: 07-15-2017, 06:24 PM by Amet.)
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
The bird seems to grow more curious beneath Amet's gaze, taking a few tentative hops closer to the golden stallion and nearing the end of the thick bough it has chosen to rest upon. Amet is content with watching the winged creature, though Sylva's silence is short lived as Ivar greets him suddenly, pulling away from a copse of trees that stands nestled on his right side.
The King of Hyaline turns towards the younger painted stallion, his amber eyes finding a moment to appreciate Ivar's matte black scales as he explains the bird's peculiar interest. Amet can't help but chuckle despite the reason behind his visit as his gaze turns briefly back to the bird. Its head had turned sideways when Ivar's voice had broken the silence with a mixture of curiosity and alarm, before finally deciding that the acquisition of a glinting scale is out of the question today, and then it is gone with a sudden flap of its wings and the rustle of autumn-tinged leaves.
"I've come to see you and Castile," Amet answers simply, just as the son of Nayl also appears from the forest of Sylva. The dragon king is pleased to see him and offers a smile and nod to the winged Castile, who had proven himself helpful and quick on his hooves during the assault on Hyaline. "Castile. I wanted to thank you for your help that night." He is still embarrassed and forlorn, but the gilded king has learned not to dwell on what has already transpired and instead has set his sights on what he can do to assist Hyaline in its rebirth.
When his amber gaze moves back to the leather-plated Ivar, Amet's expression is a tad less amicable, but the civility in his voice is unfaltering. "You have always been welcome within Hyaline because of your friendship with Castile, and also because we are sister kingdoms," he says courteously, "and as such, I would have hoped that you would approach me first, had you wanted him to stay with you in Sylva."
The golden Akhal-Teke shifts his weight casually, ears twitching more out of habit than anything else, and brings his gaze back to the dragon-winged Castile. "Is there anything that I can do to repay you for your help, Castile? I appreciate your dependability more than I can express," he says with a quiet chuckle.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Ivar had seen the smoke rising from Hyaline, but he had not looked too closely at the land before he’d spirited Castile away. It was nighttime after all – there was little he could see with the sliver of moon that had been overhead. He’d been focused on something else, and his youthful foray into theft had occupied all of his attention.
The rustle of leaves indicate someone else is joining them, and Ivar turns his pale head toward the noise. It’s Castile, come to join them, and Ivar offers him a friendly smile. When he turns back to Amet, it’s just in time to see the magpie soar away into the canopy. It was apparently uninterested in taking on an entire herd despite its penchant for collecting shiny things.
Amet answers that he’s come to see Ivar and Castile, and the pied colt tilts his head curiously. Do they need visiting? Ivar likes the dragon king, but he’d not been under the impression that they were the let’s-visit type of friends. Perhaps Amet feels otherwise? Ivar is never opposed to having more friends (he’s just a little more cautious about making them now than he was as a child).
Ivar is quiet as Amet addresses Castile, his pale ears flicking toward little sounds in the woods. He looks back as the older stallion turns toward him. Had he not turned just then, he might have missed the slightly less amicable expression that the king wears when addressing him rather than Ivar. Ivar makes nothing of it; it only makes sense that Amet is closer to the pricne that lives in his kingdom than the prince that does not. As the chestnut speaks however, the black and white colt realizes that the reason Amet has come to see Ivar is different than the reason he’s come to see Castile.
Amet is good with words the way that Ivar’s mother is. There’s a reprimand in there despite the lightness of his tone, and Ivar knows it.
Should he have asked?
He’s always done everything he wanted to, when he wants to. Consequences were unheard of, at least in the form of admonishments from his parents. He regrets jumping off that cliff in Nerine, but because it had bloodied his shoulder, not because his mother had chastised him for it. She’d just looked and sighed.
Still, he’s neither purposefully obstinate or anti-authoritarian, so when he asks Amet: “Why?” it’s with genuine curiosity. “Does he have to ask you anytime he leaves?” He glances back over to Castile curiously, wondering if the winged colt could shed some light on why he needed permission to spend time with his friend.
