"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
It’s been some time now since he last offered Branka refuge in his herd, and he finds himself wondering where the little buckskin mare has disappeared off to. It’s well past the birthing season, so their little child - son, so she claimed - should be well into the world, and growing.
He wonders what the boy (he really does hope it is a boy) is like. Strong he hopes. And traited, like his father. Now that would be something.
Of course, he knows that the boy is more likely to disappoint him. It was his grandmother’s curse - so many disappointing, un-traited, boring, normal children. His mother so far has not had this luck … but he has a feeling his offspring will not follow in his sibling’s footsteps. But he can’t help but hope.
He stalks through the grassy hills, iron eyes scanning for any sign of the little mare. But he finds nothing.
Feeling frustrated, he plants himself on top of the tiny cliff that overlooks his territory, and lets out a loud call for the mare. Perhaps she has just been hiding in the caves, in order to give the child a sheltered place in which to spend his first few months. Hopefully she will be able to hear. He wants to meet his son.
Beg forgiveness,
With some words that mean nothing,
Illusions like smoke in my breath.
It takes her awhile to find the secluded herdland. Much longer than she had intended.
Soon after their parting in the meadow, Branka had started to feel sickness and pain. Having never given birth before she didn't immediately recognize what was happening as she started having contractions. She found herself some shelter and gave birth to their son but had to spend some time getting her strength back. By the time they had made their way towards the Silver Cove, Fraktyr disappeared.
When the smokey boy came reappeared he was changed. Branka was not the most compassionate of parents but she provided the boy with nutrients and safety, how dare he leave and just waltz back like nothing had changed. She was filled with anger at the audacity of the colt, didn't he know to respect his elders? Well at any rate she would teach him. Branka lashed out at the boy, cuffing him on the shoulder with a forehoof. He flinched away out of reflex but didn't seem in pain and when her hoof made contact the mare shied away, ears flattened and teeth bared. This was not her son, or something had changed him. His body was the same dark color but completely smooth and slightly pliable. With a growl she stomped off and heard her boy following.
Branka and Fraktyr traveled in relative silence together until finally they broke through the sparse foliage onto a beach. The mare could see Khaos glittering in the paltry sunlight and made her way towards him.
"Hello Khaos" she said, her voice strong and proud. A glimmer of her former self peaking through. "I've brought you your son."
The mare appears on the beach with a rustling of foliage, and Khaos’ iron eyes immediately latch on to the black colt at her heels. He is disappointed at first glance - there is no telltale glint of iron in the boy’s coat. He had been rather hoping for a boy to carry his talent. But he withholds his judgement. He is well aware that there are many traits that do not present themselves physically - his mother and grandmother being excellent examples. He is pleased though that Branka had at least been correct in her guesses at the child’s gender. He at least has a son. All the better for carrying on his blood.
His eyes travel to Branka, noting that the mare seems rather worn. She’s clearly been through something recently, though whatever it was has not removed her pride completely. “That you have. And I am pleased to see that you were correct.” He takes a step forward, aware that this is the boy’s first time seeing his father. And Khaos wishes to make an impression. “Come boy, step forward. Let me see you.” He towers over mare and child both, heading leaning down towards the child. “What is your name?” Hopefully, there is more to this boy than meets the eye. He’s already had several disappointing children - he does not want this one to be yet another.
Love is clockworks and it's cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel
"F...Fraktyr, sir" the smokey boy whispers as he takes a timid step towards the stallion. He could feel the way his parents eyes looked him over. An almost predatory eagerness from his iron father, and a mixture of pride and disgust from his golden mother. It was hard not to feel intimidated between the stern pair.
Fraktyr's coat is sooth, unnaturally so, and covered in a dull, matte sheen that reflects the light at odd curves along his body. His limbs squeak softly when he bends a leg too far and his mane and tail don't move in step with his body. The poor colt has been turned into a living doll made of plastic. His gait is stiff, brought on by the deadened feeling in his legs, and neither heat nor cold have the same effect on him. Pain doesn't bother him like it should either, his thick, pliable skin mitigating the worst of it.
To say he was nervous might be a bit of an understatement. The colt knew almost nothing about the stallion who was supposed to be his father, so he snuck furtive glances towards the towering iron stag in the hopes he wouldn't offend him. "It's a p...pleasure to meet you, sir."
The moment the boy steps into the light, Khaos knows that something is different about him. There’s a way that the dark coat catches the light - it’s almost … dull. Matte. Unnatural. He smells odd too, not entirely like a horse. He leans in over the boy, peering in close at his coat. There’s something off about it that he can’t quite figure out. Then, uncaring of any potential discomfort on the boy’s part, touches him.
Excitement floods him immediately. The boy is made of something hard.
He hasn’t inherited his father’s iron, but clearly he’s inherited something of his unusual nature. Finally. FINALLY. He has a traited child.
He’s so distracted he almost misses the boy’s name, but he just manages to catch it. “Fraktyr.” He leans away finally, taking in all of the boy at once. Finally he has a special child to carry on his name. It’s unfortunate that he did not inherit the iron body, but this other substance that he’s made of will do just find. “Well aren’t you a unique boy.”
Unfortunately the child seems skittish - something he will have to work on. He doesn’t want any special children of his to be weaklings - especially not a son such as this. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” His eyes briefly turn to look at Branka. “I must commend you. You have given me a very special son.” Something that, so far, no other mare has been able to do.
His interest is all for Fraktyr however, and his eyes return to the dark boy. “So, Fraktyr. Tell me about yourself.”
07-22-2015, 12:19 PM (This post was last modified: 07-22-2015, 12:19 PM by Fraktyr.)
Love is Blindness
Love is clockworks and it's cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel
This was the moment the plastic boy had been waiting for, and it was better than anything he could have hoped. His father was imposing to say the least. Tall, dark, powerful, and he was proud of him. They had never met before and Khaos was proud of him. Fraktyr couldn't help the radiant grin that split his face. Khaos wanted to know about him, called him unique, special. The dark boy flourished. His mother had not attempted to hit him, or berate him in the entire time they had been in the presence of the iron stallion so he took it as a sign. Perhaps if Khaos loved him then Branka would too. Maybe they could be a real family.
Sugarplum thoughts of the three of them living happily ever after together danced behind Fraktyr's eyes as he gazed up in pure awe at his dad. "Well, sir, I am made of plastic stuff now. It makes me tough. I want to be tough like you!" His fuzzy tail waggles happily and it takes a stern look from his mother to keep him from leaping and bounding happily around his parents. It was a quick turnaround, but since he had Khaos' attention, he felt invincible. An indestructible plastic boy with an iron father and golden mother.
The boy grins under his watch and in that smile Khaos sees a heart that is warm and caring, and desperate to be loved. It rankles him to see it, but he reigns in his displeasure. The boy is young yet, and still malleable. He will have plenty of time to mold the child into a proper heir with a far darker heart.
The boy reveals the substance that he’s made of and Khaos’ head cocks to the side, his interest peaked. “Plastic eh? Pity it’s not iron, but it’ll do.” Iron would have made Fraktyr a true heir, but, the boy is still the first of his children to be made of something other than flesh. It’s better than nothing. He peers in closer at the dark boy and touches him again with his muzzle. Fraktyr’s plastic side is cool to the touch, and feels rough. He gently nips at the boy, testing the plastic and keeping an eye on Fraktyr’s face, waiting to see what reaction the boy will have. He’s pleased to see that his teeth do not dig in to the plastic at all - a resilient substance indeed!
He raises his head and a loud, genuine laugh escapes him when the boy says he wants to be tough like him. “And so you shall!” Perhaps he can use this, this adoration. He can use it to help the boy follow in his footsteps.
He hadn’t missed the boy’s wording however. Fraktyr had said that he isn’t made of plastic now. Meaning that he possibly hadn’t been before? “What did you mean son, that you are plastic now? Where you not before?”
![here](“http://o.aolcdn.com/hss/storage/fss/68ed0c2438b0d60e11a75ab5bdd2323c/khaos.jpg"){kind=link}