"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
09-20-2017, 02:28 AM (This post was last modified: 09-22-2017, 10:03 PM by Neva.)
She had swayed his way when the dappled mare called upon them in the field. The spotted woman had fallen back sheepishly and hugged near the mahogany male's hip. She felt foolish but he was the closest thing to safety after being along for so long.
The leopard spotted woman is quiet for most of the trip. She watches how the land changes skins from trees to flat plains to rolling hills. Neva had not seen parts of Beqanna like this before and watches with wide dark eyes. The appaloosa woman admires the pretty parts as well as the ugly, embracing this new land that the fairs had made since her return.
The frosted woman feels the glint of the sunlight off her back as she enters Tephra. Cross seemed occupied by his own thoughts and Neva lets him be as she gives some space between them to look with pricked ears for any hint of another equine. "It's beautiful here..." She speaks openly to no one in particular of her observation before looking back to the familiar red eyes of her travel companion as a small smile pulls honest and genuine across her dark lips, the warm spring breeze lifting the paleness of her mane and tail.
NEVA
intrigued by first impressions swayed by cold rejections
When she had instinctively pressed closer to him, hugging to his hip, he had not stopped her or persuaded her to do otherwise. For a moment he felt as if Nocturnal was at his side once more, the familiarity of a warm feminine body pressing lightly against his. The cloudy mare that had approached them, with the tumultuous green eyes that reminded him of a swelling sea, tantalized him in a way that he couldn’t place. With no other offers and the tempting feeling of trusting a stranger, they had agreed to see Tephra and perhaps call it home. Deep down he hopes she will be here, waiting to be scolded for leaving him behind.
The hope of finding her keeps him quiet during the trek to the volcano lands. He muses, broods even. His thoughts kept to himself. The landscape changes and passes and he is oblivious. Plagued by the strange sensations of familiarity, thinking of the odd dragon dream he had the night before they set out, wondering what lay ahead of them.
He practically plows into his spotted companion, so side tracked, not realizing they had arrived until she speaks. His crimson gaze finds her wondrous one and he can’t help but smile back at her. She was pleasant to be around, sweet and trusting. Perhaps naively but he was no threat to her. Besides no harm would come to her as long as he was around. Shaking his head and sending ebony tendrils into disarray around his face, he finally takes a good look at where they have arrived.
It’s interesting, the steam and plumes that come from the top of a distant mountain. The familiar crash of the sea around them. It’s quite warm for spring, his russet coat beading lightly with sweat droplets. He finds the heat slightly unpleasant. Not remembering he had always been prone to colder regions. "It’s… different.” He finally allows once he has drank in his fill. Lifting his tail slightly as it snaps against his hindquarters in thought. ”What’s there to do around here then?” He turns to the one that had brought them there, a brow raised with expectation.
they say only the good die young that just ain't right
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
He, too, had once been meant for ice and snow.
It felt like a lifetime ago that he had worn frost upon his skin and felt the icy grip of winter around his barely beating heart. It had been taken from him, as all things inevitably were, and what he had come to know as his own was soon replaced with the fiery inferno of a flickering flame that never quite extinguished in the hearth of his chest, and a tolerance for the stifling humidity that he had once loathed so deeply. The tundra-bound brotherhood was where he had finally found solace, companionship and family - a love he no longer had; children who had long since forgotten him.
The ice reminded him of who he was, and what had been.
He no longer missed it as he once did – some memories were better left buried.
The warmth of day is not lost on him, as the heavy and burdensome rays of sunlight pound endlessly across the slope of his broad, heavily scarred spine – but it is no warmer than the thick line of fire dancing along the surface, exuding a heat of its own as his powerful legs carry him over rivulets of lava and through the dense vegetation lapping hungrily at his underbelly.
For the first time in a long while, he shies away from the rumbling volcano and the plume of smoke pooling from its parted mouth – he is drawn toward the sea, with its ravenous waves lapping across the tightly compacted shoreline of volcanic rock and dusty sand drawn tight by the force of the ocean current. It is soothing, to listen to the steady churning of the tide, to and fro, and the scent of salt and driftwood is enough to ease his mind of any trouble that may be lingering on his mind. His gaze is settled upon the seafoam brushing across his hooves, blackened with soot, with the charred remnants of what lava had so hungrily taken for its own, and with each rise and fall of the sea, it is washed away –
Oftentimes, he wished it would wash away his sin with it.
He is not left to his thoughts for long, as an entanglement of murmurs eventually draws his attention away. His gaze steadies upon the two silhouettes to the southern shore – he had never seen either before, but the glimmer of red (not unlike his own) from a distance piques his curiosity, and reluctantly, he is pulled away from the silt and sand, moving into the brush once more to trace the island with his pacing.
A beauty standing alongside a beast with eyes as red as the blood that had once been spilled from the scarring he now bore. A memory surfaces – the way Tantalize had looked at him upon their first meeting; the way her brother bore the same hardened, scarlet stare. Could it be?
”Welcome to Tephra – I am Offspring, its Overseer,” he pauses then, his gaze flickering from one and then the other. ”And you are?”
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
The mahogany stallion escorts her with a high head and steady eyes. Neva instinctively falls to his hip, occasionally bumping his side with a reassuring muzzle. She does not mean to take to him ,cling and breath upon his skin, but the thought of being alone in the field any longer was downright appalling. She would take her chances on the words of a pretty stranger and the hip of a scarred man.
The land unfolds like the shawl of an old woman, secrets woken between the threads and trees. Neva does not hide the awe but instead embraces it as she walks, her skin slick with frost that never leaves her. Cross seems to tolerate her closeness (though she tries to not brush against him too much as she knows she is cold with frost) so she makes a little space. The white maned woman turns about comically as she smiles, pleased with the surroundings.
Each step falls absentmindedly till the deep rumble of Cross' voice awakens and reminds her that she is not alone. Did the woman appear yet? The pretty one with haunted eyes and a thin smile? No but the scent of fire and ash grows thick as the sight of a large stallion with sooty skin and coal ember eyes nears them. The spotted woman observes him with large eyes, her skin glistening like a frozen diamond thought she does not sweat nor drip under the heat of the dark male's eyes. 'Thank you Offspring." Neva is surprised she has spoken up, quipping with unnatural boldness. The mare is typically quiet, reserved, invisible. But not now....now she feels something drawing her out. She feels strong as a small smile tugs at her lips, fascinated with Tephra and it's keeper. "I'm Neva." Her voice slips away to a low whisper as she looks to Cross, his own red gaze covering her spotted skin, passing her to look to the dark skinned stallion. She decides it may be best to let her companion to the talking since she is just a strange mare in an even stranger land.
NEVA
intrigued by first impressions swayed by cold rejections
They aren’t left admiring the landscape alone for too long. He spots the massive stallion coming towards them way before he actually reaches them. His crimson gaze watches the raven man for awhile, his own curiosity piqued. Also noting the same blood red gaze, the similar trait they share. He had yet to see anyone else that had eyes like his. The children he had sired murky memories that were trapped beneath a dark layer. Unable to claw their way to the surface.
As Offspring closes in and introduces himself, he notices the way Neva’s eyes widen like saucers. He moves closer to her, protective in a way, although he doesn’t feel threatened by Tephra’s Overseer. Her frosty skin doesn’t bother him as much as she assumes it might. Not knowing his past, he doesn’t know it either. His companion offers her name but then falls silent, her unsure gaze slipping to him. He easily takes the wheel just as he had done in the field.
”I’m No Crosses Count. Cross is easier.” He says with a short laugh, red eyes flashing with his humor. ”A lady named Reagan invited us here. I’m assuming you know her, all thunderstorms and emerald eyes and legs for days.” He chuckles to himself, pleased with his little assessment. A pause as his raven whip snaps lazily across his hindquarters. ”We are both somewhat new here but heard this Tephra may be a good fit for us.”
He often forgets he is somewhat an oddity. His youth doesn’t match the cruel carved scars that litter his russet body, the long line that’s puckered over his eye. There are hints of familiarity in his movements, in the lines of his face that perhaps run similar to others that belong to this world. The only sign that perhaps he was not all that he appeared to be. Other than that, he was normal. He had no specialities like some of the folk here although magic oozes from his pores. He is unaware of the Afterlife aura that was still fading from his sinewy flesh.
His gaze travels back to the volcano, the ashen plumes bringing back that troubling dream that he can't seem to shake. "You don't have dragons here do you?"
Girl, I've got that silver tongue, Drives you into delirium
