in the middle of the night; anyone

[Amanita]

amanita in the middle of the night - i go walking in my dreams . . . She wasn’t even sure it made sense for her to be here. Crawling from the oily grasp of the shadows once more. The mare shook her mane in front of her eyes to partially shield them from the morning sun. It made even less since for her to return in the spring, the time of new birth. Death was more her speed, her more constant companion. Yet here she was. Trailing through paths that reeked of familiarity. Easing through the old stomping grounds her nose seeking anything familiar and finding none. It was what she expected. She eased up to a tree a million times older than herself and scratched her blood red hide against it, relieving her skin of some more of her winter coat. It was the one thing she was most proud of, the black tresses contrasted so nicely with the bright auburn coat. At least they usually did. Today she still had too much of the heavy covering which looked dull in the bright sun. She itched more and watched the thick fur fall away. Finally. The red mare flipped away the dark hair now that she was in shade. Her eyes scanned the terrain. She supposed she could have wandered into the Field in her search for a little companionship but somehow that reeked of a desperation she didn’t quite feel. Besides, her loyalty lay in none of these lands and most likely never would. She was a wanderer by nature, in and out of the borders like they meant nothing. She wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression that she was seeking a home when she wasn’t. She sighed and leaned more heavily against the sturdy trunk of the tree. A low whicker passed her lips. Anybody out there?

[Merrik]

He no longer wakes up confused each morning at the absence of his brother at his side. Enough time has passed since their initial parting of ways that he no longer looks for that wine-red face each dawn or feels hollow without him during the night. They had stayed together for longer than young men usually do, their closeness forged both by the bonds of their twinship and their abandonment. But they had known their time together would not last forever; they were well-adjusted and independent despite an existence that might have demanded codependence.

They catch up often enough that he does not have time to truly miss Tyrinn; just a month past they’d played a game or coward-or-dare to see who;d inch out farthest on a frozen lake deep in the woods.

Tyrinn had won, of course, Merrik has always been a bit more hesitant - a little more thorough in his thoughts.

He is doing just that - contemplating why the broad expanse of sunny meadow ahead of him had never been claimed by a single group. Common Land, it has been declared; though when and by whom is a question no one seems to have an answer to. Or even a question they cared about at all.

A warm breeze tugs at the broad wings that Merrick holds at his sides, and a stray feather itches uncomfortably. He pries it from the edge of his wing with careful teeth. When he releases it, it drifts of his own accord up to his dark mane. a few strands of hair stretch out for the quill, and they twist over and under each other until the feather is anchored securely. It brushes against others like it, feathers tied into the young stallion’s hair. Most are varying shades of blue that also look to have come from his own wings, but a few are strikingly dissimilar. There is a red pinion from a cherry cardinal, yellow from an oriole and a macaw’s green tail feather. Merrik has collected them in his travels, souvenirs of his journeys across Beqanna.

The sound of movement to the north distracts him, and Merrik looks up to see a ruddy bay mare settling into the shade of a tree. She is close enough to converse with, and there is something intriguing in those eyes that stare up from beneath the protection of her ebony forelock.

”Hey.” He says, bobbing his head in a polite greeting. ”I’m Merrik.”

[Amanita]

amanita in the middle of the night - i go walking in my dreams . . . She knew what that was like. To wake up one day and realize you no longer searched beside you for that familiar face. That you no longer expected to hear their hoofbeats just beside you as you wandered. Amanita no longer even thought his name for it would undoubtedly suck her down in a riptide of memories and she might not climb back out this time. When the stallion begins to move closer, she welcomes the distraction. At first. The wings ruffling at his sides are too familiar and for a moment she closes her eyes dismissing the similarities. It had to be wings. But no horn adorns his head to accompany those feathered appendages and his coat is dissimilar in color as well. She almost scoffs aloud at her own weakness. Not him. Her own petite head nods in response, “Amanita.” Involuntarily her eyes are drawn to the feathers, not in is wings, but those that hang entwined in his mane. She steps forward, undoubtedly into his personal space, and whuffs softly with the intent of sending the feathers swinging. Her eyes become delighted and her whole posture lightens, “pretty” she sighs. The red mare steps back to face him again. “The green one, where is it from? Another horse or a bird?” Thinking back she cannot remember ever seeing a green bird in the Meadow or the few territories she visited. Perhaps she has not traveled far enough. Though the land was also changed from the last time she had spent time traversing across it. Mountains had moved, forests and deserts disappeared and reappeared in different places. Only the Meadow seemed to have remained the same. This place, could it be called home?

[Merrik]

Amanita, she says, a name that he finds pleasant. He wonders if it means anything; sometimes names give a hint as to the character of their owner, but sometimes they are only a combination of letters that their parents had strung together. The latter was the case with Merrick, after all, he and Tyrinn both.

He’s about to say something else - what, he is no longer sure - when she steps closer. The blue stallion might have been concerned, were she not clearly looking at his feathers. Merrick is rather proud of them, and to have them admired is always pleasant. Tyron has teased him that he is no different than a peacock, adorning himself to gather the attention of the ladies.

He wasn’t wrong, of course, but Merrick also enjoys the reminders of the lands he has visited that come back to him when he catches a glimpse of color in his hair.

Amanita asks if the long green feather is from a horse or a bird, and Merrick smiles, clearly amused.

”A bird. I’ve never taken a feather from another horse before. They do seem to come in more colors these days though; perhaps I should.”

[Amanita]

amanita in the middle of the night - i go walking in my dreams . . . Her gaze becomes thoughtful, so it is something that must live in a place she has not seen. So much of this new world she has not explored. Part of her itches to travel beyond the comforting borders of the Meadow, and yet she is comfortable here. She enjoys the familiar worn paths and watching as the grass grows green in the summer, pale in the fall, before dying in the winter’s chill only to repeat when spring comes. The red and black mare feels though that her own cycle may be drawing closer to a close and so perhaps it would be best to leave while she is still able. “You’d have to find someone with as pretty coloring as the rest of your feathers.” Her voice is soft with admiration for the lovely décor. “Do have somewhere to call home?” She paused for a moment before revealing, “ I’ve been here too long, since before the land changed. I do not even know what lies beyond these borders anymore.” Her green eyes drifted to back to the edge of the Meadow, tracing what counted in her mind, as the border. She felt a sigh building but refrained. What was there even out there for her anymore? He was nowhere to be found. Her siblings all long gone. She had always had someone else to act as her guide, she wasn’t even sure she was capable of making decisions on her own.

[Merrik]

She is full of compliments, and Merrick responds to them with a warm smile. 'Peacocking', Tyrinn had once called his well-displayed collection, but the slate blue stallion has always found more enjoyment in looking at the feathers than in showing them off. Still, Amanita's compliments are well received and flattering.

"And someone willing to donate them as well," he says, "Though I've always fancied myself quick enough to get away if I had to resort to stealing a few." He winks, knowing that despite his roguish claim he does not have the aura of a thief - or even of someone bold enough to try.

Amanita asks about a home, and Merrik shakes his head in the brief pause between her words. He's never felt the need to find a place to stay, not when there is grass in the meadow, water in the river, and shelter in the forest. Still, the way she speaks of the lands beyond seems to mean more. Perhaps she is the type to want a kingdom, a place to protect and be protected by. Merrik cannot honestly say that he has ever felt such a need, but he does not judge her for it.

"It's different than the kingdoms of before," remarks the sabino stallion, "but they're still kingdoms. I would have lived in the Tundra, but I can't say I dislike the lack of perpetual wind and snow." He pauses and shivers at the idea of neverending ice, and then looks back at Amanita. "What about you? Where did you call home, before all of this?"

[Amanita]

The warmness of her companion did a lot for the quiet girl's demeanor. She even found a small laugh bubbling up at his most recent words. Somehow she doubted stealing was in his nature, but she'd not dispute the claim. He went on to mention the Tundra and she thought she might remember that one. It was the bachelor herd and for some reason that did not surprise her that he'd chose that life. She wasn't sure why but it didn't "I certainly cannot blame you. The company would have to be exceptional to make somewhere that cold home." The Jungle was it's counterpart she knew, but she never recalled having any desire to live there. She understood it was a safe haven for mares, but the bay mare had never had enough trouble with stallions to warrant avoiding them for the rest of her life.

When he asked her last home it took some thought to dredge the names from her memory. "The Dale was one I believe, my sister.. adopted lived there. The Chamber was another, but I never really settled anywhere to be honest. The Meadow is as home to me as either of those." It had always been so. Sure. she had stayed in one place for awhile at times but she never had felt that intense desire to stay as some did. Or pride in a home. Or protectiveness. No, the land never called to her like it seemed to others.

"I don't know why but I never had the desire. Perhaps though I might visit these new kingdoms, maybe something will be there that wasn't before."  She looked again to the borders. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to push herself into the unknown and explore what had been made. It might not be the same, but perhaps what she had been missing could be found now, in one of these new places.

She turned her gaze back to her companion, "do you have a favorite of these new kingdoms? Anywhere special?


ooc: @[Merrik] did you see the pretty baby?! also my bad i definitely didn't see your reply until now >.<