11-30-2017, 11:04 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
He stands at the edge of the trees, looking towards the shore, patient and almost completely motionless as he waits, and thinks. The setting sun across the water paints a mural of colors across the sky and reflected in the water and even tinting the white sand beneath his hooves. Brennen likes the sunsets here – they are uninterrupted expanses of color, much like his Tundra once was. Nothing to interrupt the sight as it wraps along the islands, lingering fingers of color into the darkness long after gloom has fallen. Then, as the tide washes up onto the shore, the ocean produces Ischia’s own unique sight; the glowing plankton that lights up the water, waves, and beach until it washes back out in the morning. The warrior stallion hasn’t been sleeping much (when has he ever?) and finds the glowing sealife brings him comfort in the long night.
Tonight, he is worrying about their erstwhile Keeper. He had talked to her not a week before, sharing a moment deep in the jungle by the waterfall. That, too, had been comforting. A connection with another being who isn’t one of his own descendants that had seemed real and true. But then she had grinned at him, told him to take care of Ischia if he loved it like she did, and disappeared into the water. He hadn’t seen her since – and some discreet inquiries amongst the others he lived with had told him they hadn’t either. No sight of her blue-and-green equine pelt amongst the jungle and the sands, no sightings of her canine pawsteps on the sands after a long night. Brennen is equal parts worried about Circinae herself, and worried about Ischia left adrift without its Keeper appointing a new ruler as she had promised in the beginning. Those she leaves behind have many strong personalities, and if she does not chose one of them, he is uncertain how they will chose amongst themselves. The strongest? The smartest? Oldest? The girl who had lived here the longest?
Brennen does not want to have to find a new home. This is the only place in the new world that he has felt settled, in his heart of hearts. Not that he hadn’t given Nerine and Hyaline honest-to-the-gods tries; but they hadn’t been right. Ischia felt like home. Felt like the Tundra, the Falls, the Deserts all wrapped into one perfect little island. Circinae had said that thrones and politics were not place to raise a family, but Brennen knows that Kingdoms are a very different kind of family, and he has raised many children in the shadows of thrones and politics, and he can envision himself continuing to do so here.
The night is past dark, dawn beginning to creep upon them, and he blinks clear of his thoughts to watch the plankton recede. Curiously, he notes the bright green spark amongst the blue sealife and wonders whether it is something different, as he has not seen any green glow amongst the blue any other night he has watched them come and go. But he does not move to approach – not until he notices that it is not washing back into the ocean alongside the rest. Then he begins to move, approaching it in an indirect way that belies his curiosity is simply not that intense. But as the bay gets closer, he notices that the pulsing spark of light is not a squirmy sea creature of any sort, but more of a solid thing.
Part seashell, part rock. That’s how Brennen classifies the object when he reaches it, standing a few feet away with one foot lifted into a relaxed pose, his finely shaped ears perked towards the strange object and his amber eyes reflecting the green glow. It is lodged firmly into the sand, half a washed up afterthought but half as if it has stubbornly rooted there, waiting. Waiting, he wonders, for what? Brennen takes his eyes off of the glowing shell to scan the horizon, noting that dawn is nearly upon them. This is the last glowing thing left on the shore. It is then, as the first rays of dawn break across the sky, that the curious immortal reaches down and brushes his nose against the strange shell, wondering if it will be hot or cool to his touch.
Tonight, he is worrying about their erstwhile Keeper. He had talked to her not a week before, sharing a moment deep in the jungle by the waterfall. That, too, had been comforting. A connection with another being who isn’t one of his own descendants that had seemed real and true. But then she had grinned at him, told him to take care of Ischia if he loved it like she did, and disappeared into the water. He hadn’t seen her since – and some discreet inquiries amongst the others he lived with had told him they hadn’t either. No sight of her blue-and-green equine pelt amongst the jungle and the sands, no sightings of her canine pawsteps on the sands after a long night. Brennen is equal parts worried about Circinae herself, and worried about Ischia left adrift without its Keeper appointing a new ruler as she had promised in the beginning. Those she leaves behind have many strong personalities, and if she does not chose one of them, he is uncertain how they will chose amongst themselves. The strongest? The smartest? Oldest? The girl who had lived here the longest?
Brennen does not want to have to find a new home. This is the only place in the new world that he has felt settled, in his heart of hearts. Not that he hadn’t given Nerine and Hyaline honest-to-the-gods tries; but they hadn’t been right. Ischia felt like home. Felt like the Tundra, the Falls, the Deserts all wrapped into one perfect little island. Circinae had said that thrones and politics were not place to raise a family, but Brennen knows that Kingdoms are a very different kind of family, and he has raised many children in the shadows of thrones and politics, and he can envision himself continuing to do so here.
The night is past dark, dawn beginning to creep upon them, and he blinks clear of his thoughts to watch the plankton recede. Curiously, he notes the bright green spark amongst the blue sealife and wonders whether it is something different, as he has not seen any green glow amongst the blue any other night he has watched them come and go. But he does not move to approach – not until he notices that it is not washing back into the ocean alongside the rest. Then he begins to move, approaching it in an indirect way that belies his curiosity is simply not that intense. But as the bay gets closer, he notices that the pulsing spark of light is not a squirmy sea creature of any sort, but more of a solid thing.
Part seashell, part rock. That’s how Brennen classifies the object when he reaches it, standing a few feet away with one foot lifted into a relaxed pose, his finely shaped ears perked towards the strange object and his amber eyes reflecting the green glow. It is lodged firmly into the sand, half a washed up afterthought but half as if it has stubbornly rooted there, waiting. Waiting, he wonders, for what? Brennen takes his eyes off of the glowing shell to scan the horizon, noting that dawn is nearly upon them. This is the last glowing thing left on the shore. It is then, as the first rays of dawn break across the sky, that the curious immortal reaches down and brushes his nose against the strange shell, wondering if it will be hot or cool to his touch.
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN