"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
the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love
great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
like nothing's changed at all?
The heat of the Jungle is no longer as unfamiliar as it once had been. It had started when the Tundra thawed - some of his Brothers had taken themselves to the frozen Jungle, but Brennen had stayed. He was not one to leave the Tundra, even in times of difficulty, and Malka and his son had been sheltering in the Tundra (with many of their Jungle family). It had been better to stay, despite the heat. And then they'd returned here, because Malka had duties to her Kingdom and Malyk was out of his reach, unless he visited. So he did, more frequently than he had visited any Kingdom not his own, other than the Falls.
Malyk was nearly a man grown now, and Brennen was hopeful that his son would come to the Tundra, but he would not force the issue. That wasn't really his style. Regardless of his son's choices, he would be a happy father. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to visit, and perhaps drop hints.
Today he is moving slowly, relaxed, taking the time to enjoy the strange wonders of the Jungle. The humid air brushes his skin and the sounds of birds and animals do not silence around him. Today, perhaps because of his slow speed or his growing familiarity, the wildlife does not see him as a threat to their safety. Perhaps because of this, or simply because he isn't paying enough attention, he wanders past the border rather than halting to call for Malyk, nose lowered as he investigates a bright trail of interesting flowers.
She'd risen early this morning, sneaking away from the Jungle as the first rays of sun had peaked their way over the horizon. It's become a bit of an occasional habit of hers since her return. She had realized early on that while she was in the kingdom, she would have to keep herself restrained. The creatures of the Jungle and her fellow sisters would not be likely to appreciate it if she meddled too much with their weather.
And so, every once in a while, she travels to the mountains on the Jungle's eastern border to let loose. She plays with the elements, brining out the wind and the rain, and drawing lightning down from the heavens to strike the earth at her feet. It makes her feel powerful. It makes her feel ... alive.
But she is done for today, and she has returned to the jungle with an easy smile on her face. She feels particularly refreshed on this day - she'd created quite the storm this morning. Her coat is still soaked through from the rain.
As she nears the northern border however, the unmistakable scent of an unfamiliar stallion catches her attention. She studies it for a moment, investigating. The scent is mixed with a few others - ice and snow (the Tundra she presumes), sweat and flowering plants (the Jungle), and the scent of a sister that, at the moment, she can't quite put a name to.
Curious, she decides to follow the scent. The stallion is clearly no stranger to the jungle by both his scent and his path, and she wonders what would bring a Tundra stallion here so often that he smells a little of the Jungle kingdom.
It doesn't take her long to track down the stallion - he's moving rather slowly - and she takes a moment to appraise him before approaching. He's clearly a fighter - he's well muscled, and the scars that cover his body speak of the many battles he must have taken part in. Not bad really. She grins cheekily.
"Since when have Tundra stallions taken to ignoring our borders?" Her tone is serious, but the look on her face is entirely opposite. She's not worried. This stallion is clearly not a threat.
the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love
great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
like nothing's changed at all?
He doesn’t startle, on the outside. Too many long years of self-control give him that much – inside, he jerks to awareness with her words, cursing himself for letting his guard down here of all places! This place, where he can name several women who’d like to catch him unawares, and not necessarily for a friendly chat. Perhaps they’d have a friendly chat afterwords, but he’s relatively sure that Scorch and Lagertha, to name a few, would jump him first and chat afterwords. He doesn’t particularly want to give them the opportunity, and he sternly reminds himself to pay more attention. But on the outside, he simply lifts his head, blinking momentarily at the unfamiliar mare in front of him.
An ear flicks in her direction as he contemplates her words, a frown appearing on his face. Ignoring the borders? No, surely he…did. Mentally, Brennen kicks himself again. These aren’t the behaviors that have kept him relatively unharmed for so many years. More like one of the bumbling children they entertain now in the Tundra. The smile that contradicts the mare’s solemn words registers in his brain a half-second later and Brennen responds by quirking a half-smile of his own, turning around fully to face her. “Ah, well, sorry about that. I was looking for my son, but I got distracted.” He glances back at the bright flowers, and then follow the trail of them back to her. “We don’t get many flowers in the Tundra.” For a moment his half-smile is full, a laugh in his eyes, but he doesn’t hold that expression for long. The wry look of half-amusement, half-serious contemplation is more his normal.
“I’m Brennen.” he introduces himself, noticing as they stand that she’s pretty, in the wild way of many of the Jungle women. Once, it feels like lifetimes ago now, he had loved a woman who was quiet and gentle, but they were not right for one another. Her ideal was not his ideal, though he had at many times wished he fit into the peace of Neraza’s falls. But if the Jungle women are anything, they are never boring. Mad, some of them, on many occasions, totally raving, but never boring. And anyway, she doesn’t look crazy. “I’m not in the habit of wandering the Jungle by myself, really, though perhaps I should reconsider. I never get to meet ladies like you when I do things the proper way.” Nope, usually he just gets serious Lagertha or snarky Scorch if it takes him too long to find Malyk.
The sudden frown, followed by a quick apology, tells her that he hadn’t realized where he was. A small snort of amusement escapes her. Someone’s head is clearly in the clouds today. But at least she now understands why his scent is so mixed - the possibility of a son to bring back to the Tundra would have a strong pull for a brother. “Ah, that would explain why you smell so much like the Jungle.”
His comment on the flowers manages to pull a laugh from her. “I imagine you don’t get many growing things at all in the Tundra.” Smart plants really - who would want to live in such frigid conditions? Well, besides the brothers of course. And they’re often an odd lot anyhow.
“Lyris.” She grins at him, liking the stallion already. She can tell he doesn’t take himself too seriously - always a good quality in her opinion. Too many horses are far too serious these days.
Then, he hits her with a surprise. “Oho!” She can’t help but chuckle. He’s flirting she thinks, though she can’t be entirely sure. Men rarely flirt with her - the tattoos and well, personality, scare them off. “Ladies like me eh?” She throws her head to the sky overhead, barely visible through the thick foliage. Thick grey clouds gather overhead, sending them into near darkness. As she lowers her head back to look at him, grinning, lightning begins to flicker overhead. Why not show off a little? “You sure you know what you’re dealing with?”
the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love
great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
like nothing's changed at all?
He is glad to draw a laugh from her with his comment about the flowers – and it’s true, her rebuttal. There aren’t a ton of growing things in the Tundra. Moss, lichen, that sort of thing; some pine trees…but it’s not a wild green place like the Jungle, or even a quietly green place like the Falls. It’s a stark place, a white place, and he doesn’t mind. Usually. Sometimes it gets to you, the emptiness, and every once in a while he understands why some of the Brothers aren’t quite right in the head. And sometimes, when that happens, he seeks company elsewhere. To remind him that life isn’t always the starkness of the Tundra Brotherhood.
Clouds gather overhead, suddenly, and lightening flickers in them. A small part of him catalogues this (he’d never met a weather-worker before but then suddenly there was Kratos and Nihlus and now Lyris) but the greater part of him is exhilarated. The warrior glances at the sky, and then back down at her, grinning at him, the very epitome of the wildness he appreciates in the Jungle women. And not barbed with sarcasm and wariness born of an unfriendly history, either, which is a huge bonus. Her summoning of the weather is playful, but impressive, and he feels the need to return in kind.
“No, I’m not sure,” he replies, a wry laugh in his voice (he doesn’t, after all, know what else she could be capable of), “But I think I can handle it.” There isn’t much ice to be played with here in the Jungle, and the wind would only potentially wreak havoc with her own display, but there are bones here. Ever conscious of the fury he’d invoked the last time he’d pulled horse bones from the ground in the Jungle (he hadn’t cared at the time, as angry as he was with them, but he cares now), he reaches instead for animal bones, conveniently finding some sort of great feline almost whole beneath their feet. The ground shivers for a moment and then the bones burst from the ground, the shape of the feline obvious as it prowls around them, just a little less coordinated that a live feline (he usually draws on equine bones – they’re bigger, and more familiar – and animating the great cat is harder). “I think you’ll find we’re equally fascinating.” Brennen’s smile is just a bit feral, just a little off it’s normal dryness, just a little bigger. “But you’re prettier, of course.”
She can see the thrill in his eyes as the lightning flickers overhead. Her grin widens further as she watches him glance between herself and the sky overhead. It’s refreshing to meet someone who is excited, rather than terrified, by her abilities. She decides to turn it up a notch, just a tiny bit. She pulls on a weaker strand of lightning and draws it down to earth. She’s careful to make sure it avoids the foliage and hits a patch of damp soil several metres away - she’s set fire to a kingdom before and she doesn’t particularly want to do it again. Her orange-flecked eyes watch for his reaction.
He suggests that he can handle her, and she can’t help but let a small laugh escape her. “Oh do you now?” Her tone is skeptical, but light. She’s quite enjoying the banter. And then he ups the ante.
The earth beneath her shakes, and things rise to the surface and burst through. Bones. Animal bones. She watches in poorly hidden awe as the great cat rises from the damp soil and begins to stalk around them. Now that is impressive. But she tries to play it cool. “Well that’s a neat trick.” She eyes the dead creature as it continues to prowl. She has no doubt that an ability like that is rather useful on the battle field.
He speaks again, and her head turns to meet his gaze. Oho! We’re going the flattery route now, are we? She grins, and makes a point of obviously looking him over (though of course she’s done that already). “Aw thanks. You’re not half bad yourself.” She’s not saying it to be nice either - he is handsome, in an older, wiser sort of way.
