I'd Be a Fool - Any

[Hod]

Down, down, down, he went. Down was all there was anymore. It was quiet and calm, with water swirling about him. Twisting him this way and that. The howling winds above had driven him here, swept him away. A cut on his leg, where he'd stumbled against something sharp, maybe coral? The water was not where it used to be, the shoreline suddenly rearranged, reorganized. The trees had formed an unlikely barrier, guiding him back from where he had used to call home. And that wind... it screamed. Driving rain had spattered against his pelt, soaking him in moments. All at once, he did not know the sand from the sea, so high had it risen. Slipping, slipping... and sliding into the water. Salt burned his eyes and coated his tongue. Filled his ears, muffled the wind's voice. There was no one to see him slip beneath the waves. 

But now it was quiet. He was cold, and felt wisps of mane float past his face. The burly stallion knew he was under water, with no way to tell him which way to go to come out again. He could not see the weak light shimmering above him, cut through with whips of lightening. He could kick out, drive himself this way and that, but without some sort of guide, he'd very likely only be pushing himself deeper. Clear memory struck him. "I'll never let you drown, Hod." Her voice whispered again. His chest ached with the thought. He hadn't seen her in weeks, and perhaps that had something to do with his carelessness. He'd been distracted, isolated. And now he was surely going to drown. An icy claw of panic gripped his throat, making him thrash out with powerful limbs. A current pulled him along, dragging his spasming body with it. Air was running out. A deep ache gripped his chest, and the reality struck him. He was going to die. He was going to die, and perhaps his bloated body would wash up on a beach in a few days, maybe not. He hoped it wouldn't be Nyxa who found him. He hoped Bragi was alive, and that he'd someday forgive his brother for never seeking him. He wanted desperately to breath. 

A hard bump to his hip surprised him. Was that land? Reaching down with his feet met with only more water. Sparks flew before his eyes, unconsciousness threatening heavily now. Just one breath, and he could sleep... Another hard bump, this one to his shoulder. Smooth skin brushing against his belly, pushing up against it. Against all odds, had Nyxa come to save him? His oxygen deprived brain suggested, before another caress revealed that whatever was pushing him was far broader than any horse he knew of. A shark? A whale? Sparks danced before him, resolving into a smooth spangled shape. It twisted and arced, a comet of white one a black background. Surely, this was death, coming to pull him home. The great white form came closer and closer, until there was nothing but bright whiteness. There was nothing.

There was pain. Sharp and insistent, his shoulder bore some jagged injury. His mouth was cottony and dry, tasting of sand and brine. And it hurt, all along the jaw. Realizing he had not died after all, he sucked in a greedy lungful of air, relishing it, and the likely temporary pause in the rainfall. For a long minute, he just lay there. The ache in his should was beginning to fade, though the scrape on his leg still hurt. His head felt heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for an age. But a sense of self preservation kicked in, driving him to his feet. The ache in his shoulder returned, fiercer than before. He was alive, but he needed to be seen to. And he needed shelter, soon. Exhausted after his ordeal, and not totally certain where he was now, the sopping stallion began working away from the sound of water, hoping to find a cave he could shelter in until the weather improved.


OOC: So! Using the monsoon event to bestow on Hod his Orca mimicry. He almost drowned, an Orca Shaman found him and brought him to shore, leaving a tooth in his shoulder, which was the gift that is giving him mimicry. Right now his sharp teeth are growing in, he still doesn't know about the echolocation or expanded lung capacity. Feel free to interact!

[Brennen]

hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be

The storm comes quickly, so quickly. One moment he is basking in the sunshine that filters down through the trees, standing on the cliff above the waterfall he guards in the depths of the jungle like a precious thing. It is precious, to him; it is like a slice of his past and it is something he needs. It, as much as anything else, holds him to Ischia. He cannot lose this slice of his history; it is the only thing in the new world that reminds him of the old world.

But the dark clouds roll in and cover his sunshine - but he can't see them. He just feels the chill as the sun fades away, and he frowns because unless he seriously lost track of time he should have hours left of warm dappled sunlight reflecting off the top of the waterfall. Sudden winds follow the shift towards darkness, ruffling his feathers and tangling his mane and tail. This gets his attention and the stallion turns his face to the tree canopy and the sky beyond, frowning. He's not lived an entire season yet in Ischia but this seems unnatural. Straining towards the sky he opens his wings, preparing to take-off, because Brennen does his best investigating from the sky. Two powerful strokes of his wings lifts him into the air and he is heading towards a large break in the canopy when the driving rain starts, and a buffet of wind strong enough to knock him off course almost throws him into the nearest tree.

That makes it time for plan b. Brennen is old enough to know when the conditions are not favorable for flying. The bay stallion makes an ungrateful emergency landing, fighting the powerful winds with every heartbeat, and folds his wings to reduce his air resistance as he makes his way into the largest cave he has found in his explorations, the one nestled half behind and just to the side of the waterfall. That's where he hunkers down to wait out the storm, tucked out of the reach of the storm as it rages outside, loud enough that he wonders if the world is ending again.

He isn't sure he can start again. If Beqanna falls to ruin again, he may be lost. There has to be something salvageable about Ischia at the end of this (and it better be the waterfall nestled in the jungle) or Brennen might finally end.

It feels like hours later (but it might only be minutes) when the other stallion stumbles into the cave, reeking of blood and seawater. Trying not to startle him, Brennen nickers lowly, reaching out to press his muzzle gently to the other man's neck in an attempt to reassure. He recognizes the stallion despite the mess the storm has made of him, though they haven't officially met. "Crazy storm," he says wryly, "You okay?"

hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get

BRENNEN

[Hod]

He is disoriented, stumbling over the brickabrack now strewn across the beach. He aches all over, feeling as though he'd been run over by a herd of angry Clydesdales. He was on his knees again for the umpteenth time when the skies decided to break again. He felt like he was in danger of drowning again, with how the sheets of rain slammed into his battered form. It was very nearly a miracle that he found his way to the system of caves inland. The thunderous downpour echoed in his head, making him groan. As suddenly as it started, it is gone. No... he's simply found a cave entrance. The rain is still falling, but no longer on his back. With a heavy sigh, he makes his way to the wall of the cave, leaning against it's reassuring solidity. Everything hurts, he's sure he's bleeding in at least a couple places, and he likely looks like a castaway rat. Frankly, he's just pleased he's alive at all. Perhaps that's why he didn't hear the telltale breathing that betrayed the cave's other occupant.

Likely this is why he starts so abruptly at the low call, the light touch to his shoulder. He's proud of himself, though. He does not bolt, just snorts in surprise, head tossing just high enough to brush the low ceiling with his ears. The words that follow soon after are soothingly calm, however, and he pauses to try and place the voice. It is one he's heard only once before, he thinks, at the island meeting when Krone took on her leadership. For the life of him, he can't recall the name of the voice's owner. "Ye-"

His response is halted by a hacking coughing fit, the last of the sea dribbling from his lips. His lungs feel as though they've been vigorously scrubbed with pumice rock. Wrinkling his nose in pain, he just nods for the moment, catching his breath again. Feeling better, he lifts his head to face the voice, leaning against the cave wall again. He's so damn tired. "I will be. Nothing like a little wind and rain to remind you you're a mere mortal." He commented wryly. His voice was hoarse with salt water, but then that hardly registered on his pain radar at the moment. He shifted his weight, stretching out unwilling limbs as he did so. "I'm sorry, but I really can't remember your name. I'm Hod, if you're having trouble with mine." He offered with a bashful shake of his head. His hearing felt all wonky, like he had water in his ears still. Probably did, actually. A shiver coursed through him, reminding the young man that he was soaked through and standing in a draft cave. He needed to dry off soon, before some kind of sickness set in.

@[Brennen]

[Brennen]

hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be

Brennen presents the front of being a pretty cold, heartless warrior in most of his interactions with the outside world. It’s helpful to have a reputation that precedes him that discourages challenges before the come, because no matter how skilled you are, a mistake in even a minor battle could end your fighting career. Staying at the top through history and intimidation is a tactic he uses to its fullest extent. Not to mention it works well for his general wellness as an immortal, to keep most of the horses he meets at a distance.

But he’s not really a stone cold sort of guy, and he does make friends (and often loses them to time, but he’s tried to hermit life and it was equally as bad). In addition, he has a soft spot for children and young people, and he’s concerned about this one in front of him, injured and soaked to the bone. “Nice to meet you again, Hod,” he says with a little half-smile, “I’m Brennen.” He pauses and casts a critical eye over his companion as well as he can in the gloom, not missing the way he shivers. “Why don’t you come back here, further out of the wind?” He starts to maneuver the younger stallion towards the warmer back of the cave, standing close to share his own body heat, and continued to speak over any objections or resistance the young man might offer. “So what do you do for Ischia, Hod?”

Once the other is out of the wind, Brennen slowly (he doesn’t want to startle or scare him) spreads both over-large black wings, one to further block the cave entrance and the other over Hod, offering to share its insulating warmth.

hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get

BRENNEN