"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
There was little choice I had in the matter. Winter’s storm had left little deviation from waiting out her frigid wrath. A shiver coalesces down my spine; the ends of ebon and white strands standing brusquely erect as salt infused air assaults widened nares. Hooves planted firmly at the water’s edge, I wait out the timing of low tide. Ischia appeared to be the closest of my two destinations. From Brennen’s description I am almost eager to explore a warmer climate. The promise of oncoming spring lingers in the air with the right shift , but it is not enough to satiate my appetite to escape the cold. If only for a temporary while.
At long last the water begins to recede enough for me to follow the shallow line of a sand bridge towards my just visible destination. My strides are even but unhurried as I make my approach.
By the time my treds fall onto the larger land mass, the sun has begun its descent behind the horizon. I am holding my head a little higher now. Whether it’s the slightly warmer wind that gently brushes my side, or the anxious anticipation of meeting another stranger, I am not sure.
A quick scan of the beach around me and I am contented to realize that for the moment that no one is in the immediate vicinity. Slowly I allow the coiled tension in my muscles to relax; gravity minutely pulling my craned neck lower to sand. I suppose was not sure what I would find waiting for me on the other side of the water.
I try to make a conscious effort to deeply inhale and exhale, but my eyes come to rest on something particularly interesting. The object is white and round in shape and there appears to be a faint star made of holes along the top. It almost resembles a shell, but I am not convinced that is what it is at all. Another quick glance around me for the presence of others. When none are detected, I take a hesitant step towards it, unsure if the thing is alive. There is no quick response from the thing and it remains still. Bravery is not a characteristic I would describe myself as having. So I am surprised to feel myself take another step, even going so far as to let my whiskered muzzle gently brush against the surface of the strange white disk…
who cried a river…
and drowned the whole…
…world.
[mare+knabstrup+black leopard+4 years+avion.]
OOC: Hopefully my HTML doesn't go all wonky again. Please let me know if it does. :]
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
Even in the depths of winter, Ischia is pleasant. Brennen winds his way through the jungle trees, making his way towards the beach. As the sun begins to set the birds are fleeing to take refuge in the tops of the trees, nesting for the night. They are great company, but they are day-birds, and the night is for other creatures. The beach, for instance, comes alive at night; not just from the phosphorescent glowing plankton wash up on shore. Other sealife is active at night as well – the hermit crabs are some of Brennen’s favorites.
The trees begin to thin, and he turns his face towards the mainland shore – and is pleasantly surprised to see the spotted mare from the Field standing on the beach. Breckin. The warrior turns to stride her direction, a low and friendly whicker escaping his throat as he comes along. She has her head down, inspecting something that has washed up on the beach. He glances down at it, and experience exploring the beach here now for awhile brings its name to his mind. “A beach star*,” he says, and is pleasantly surprised at the good condition of the one she’s found. “What washes up on the beach like this is just the skeleton – when they are alive in the ocean, they’re actually rather fuzzy.”
He lifts his eyes then to her face, quirking a little smile. “Welcome to Ischia. Can I show you around?”
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN
*I figured since they have no idea what a dollar is, the sand dollar would need a new name. XD I almost went with the South African "Pansy Shell" but I dunno "Beach Star" seemed better.
Miniscule granules of sand scatter over the odd, white disk as the brush of whiskers slips over it once, then twice, and once more again for good measure. A long sigh escapes her ebon lips; contented to find that whatever the things was, it was not going to launch itself upward and onto her nose. Breckin glares at the oddity a few more moments while several thoughts flitter through her mind, but she doesn’t get much time to address them before the sound of a low whicker meets her ears. She has let her guard falter for longer than she had intended, she realizes. Previously relaxed muscles begin with tension again, preparing for who is coming to receive her. Luckily, the anxiety is quickly ebbed by the somewhat familiar bay form of Brennen.
His approach comes to a halt near where she stands. As his gaze falls to the white circle, her own follows with it. “A beach star,” she repeats quietly. Surprisingly, she is somewhat saddened to learn that the creature was in fact dead. It’s strange, but from what he describes the deceased remains of the beach star in front of them looks more beautiful than the description he gives of its still living appearance. Its an interesting realization; perhaps one that can transcend other facets of life beyond the small, hollow skeleton at their feet.
Breckin realizes with a visible jolt that he is looking at her again. He has asked a question and is patiently waiting for a reply with a kind smile. ”That sounds nice,” she replies quickly. Shifting her spotted frame, she moves so that Brennen has the opening to take the lead and guide her through the island of Ischia. Incredibly, she is eager to start up a light conversation with the stallion as she takes a couple small steps forward and then glances back to meet his gaze. There is something she has been wanting to ask him and decides to get right on with it, “So were you born with wings or did they…just appear?”
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
He has become somewhat calloused to the idea of skeletons, and so the death of the beach star doesn’t sadden him. Maybe he should be more sad, but he holds to power to manipulate bone, and has animated enough skeletons that bones have become more like tools than anything to remind him of the dead. When he sees the dead in his nightmares, they are skin and flesh and dead, not the sterilized dead of skeletons.
But he does admire the beach stars for the variety they bring to the beaches, so he gazes at it a moment longer before they turn together, and he begins to lead them towards the interior. She crossed at low tide, so she’s clearly figured that much out…a steady pace eats up the beach between the shoreline and the jungle, and the trees are looming quickly above them. “Well there are actually many islands – this is the biggest island, the one where we mostly live, but there are several smaller islands.
They are beneath the towering trees now, and the native creatures are loud overhead. Brennen glances into the canopy, smiling at his feathered friends, and a few venture lower and closer. “The only native wildlife are these parrots, and anything that swims across.” None of them fly all the way down yet, but he often has feathered passengers so it is only a matter of time. Speaking of feathers, she is asking about his wings.
He flicks the very tips of said wings just for the satisfaction of knowing they are there. “Tt varies, from person to person. Some magics we are born with, and some we acquire, usually from services done for or the whims of the fae.” Looking at her with a sparkle of what can only be called mischief, Brennen summons the tiniest particles of ice – as small as, and indeed pretty much it is snowflakes – to fall around them, a small flurry that melts as it hits the sand beneath their hooves. “I was born with my wings, and my unending life. My other magics were granted to me by the faeries.”
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
Keeping up with steady pace Brennen has set, she picks her way carefully along the path; trying to be mindful of where she steps as she takes in everything that they pass. Hell, the horses are magical here, who know what other surprises this land may hold? Until now she never could have imagined such a place existed. Even with the constant travelling in her past, it’s very possible that she just tuned out the rest of the world. After all, once you’ve seen one ordinary herd of equines you’ve pretty much seen them all. That was of course, until she landed in Beqanna. In her short life she never would have been able to predict that she would have been greeted by the winged stallion she walks alongside now. Truly it was amazing just how much her eyes were beginning to open.
A pale ear flickers on its own accord; adjusting to better grasp the sounds of boisterous chatter happening somewhere above them. As Brennen pauses to look upward, she follows his line of vision to a flock of colorful birds bouncing around between the branches. They seem very interested in the bay stag. She holds the parrots in her gaze a moment longer before they fall back down to Brennen and she realizes that he is smiling as he watches them. The corner of her lips tug upward; he seems happy, and for some reason that is making her feel a stir of happiness as well.
But her smile falls back to a neutral plane just as quickly as it appeared when he begins to answer her question; her eyes drawn again to the large wings that he moves as he speaks. The spotted mare nods in understanding at his response, satisfied with the reply until he mentions the fae. One question answered, and another surfaces in its wake.
However she doesn’t have a chance to ask about the fae, for between the slight hesitation and quick blink of the eyes her attention drifts to the bits of white that seem to appear out of nowhere. She stiffens, immediately unsure of how to respond to whatever it is. Before she can react, she watches as the particles float lazily to the ground beneath them, disappearing at the contact. Just as one lands on the end of her muzzle, her eyes constrict as they nearly cross, but she is pleased to feel the lingering coolness of the particles as it melts to water on her coat. Snowflakes she realizes. Quickly she glances at Brennen to see if he had been affected by the odd weather too, but she is surprised to see a glint of something within his eyes. Confusion settles upon her face beforeshe can understand what exactly that glint was and after a moment the confusion gives way to understanding that the snow must have coalesced due to his whim. She watches, mesmerized then not at the snow itself, but at the simple fact that Brennen had influenced the weather. And just as the last flake drops to the ground, her lips pull upward into a smile, even giving way to an easy, lighthearted laugh. Whatever reservations she had, seemed to be melting away with the last bit of snow.
Still with a small smile, she looks back to him, “Brennen, you have showed me some magical and beautiful things. And for that I am appreciative.” Her smile falters a bit then, “I am young, but know the basics of how the world works and I wouldn’t think Beqanna would be different, but maybe I am wrong. For all the good and light there is, there is usually darkness that follows. I am curious to know if there is darkness in Beqanna.
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
You get your enjoyment out of life where you can – he feels a very short moment of regret when she stiffens, but since it very rapidly relaxes into a better emotion, he doesn’t feel guilty for long. And no matter the mischievous enjoyment he got from surprising her, the stallion would have felt guilty had he truly frightened her. He’d mad an educated guess based on how well she’d handled Scorch’s unorthodox arrival and his own wings, and decided she could handle him being a little playful, and was pleased he was right. Then Breckin laughs while the ice-chip snow tumbles down around them and he grins in response, even as he gently guides them deeper into the jungle.
He also appreciates smart people – and even thought her next words make him solemn, his grin fading away into a look of serious concentration, he can take a moment to silently appreciate that she is world-wise enough to know that nothing is all butterflies and rainbows. He sighs, staring deep into the shadows between the trees, and tries not to think too hard about atrocities. He has witnessed some quite personally. “There are bad people here in Beqanna, just like everywhere else. For every one of us who has magics they use for good purposes, there is someone who uses their powers for bad things. And just as many who are neither good nor bad, but a mixture of both.”
Brennen has slowed their pace, because he doesn’t want to taint the place he is leading them towards with talk of the evils of Beqanna, so he’d rather have this conversation before they get there. “Right now, Beqanna is pretty quiet. There are no big bad villians, at least none who have come out of the woodwork. But it never stays like this forever – times of quiet and times of chaos ebb and flow, much like I imagine it works other places.” What warnings can he give her about life here? So much of it is just the experience of how things work. “The fae are among those who are neutral – they do many good things for us, but it’s best to be cautious and polite if ever you run into a faerie. And while most of our great villians of the past have been defeated, there is a magician, Carnage; he comes and goes and when he’s around, it’s never good for the majority of us.”
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
03-27-2018, 02:22 PM (This post was last modified: 03-27-2018, 02:23 PM by Breckin.)
As Brennen responds to her latest inquiry, Breckin can feel the unmistakable feeling of her heart dropping further and further into the pits of her stomach. Hopeful is a good term to describe her thoughts—she had been ridiculously hopeful that Beqanna had somehow managed to be elusive to the wrongdoings and injustices of the world. Yet reality is often not pretty and it is one of those moments where it saddens her that her initial suspicions were being confirmed by the man next to her. She allows herself to feel the pain of regret a moment longer before metaphorically leaving the emotion in her wake as once again she follows Brennen further along the path. The teachings he issues is not lost on her and she is careful to keep the warnings regarding the fae in the forefront of her mind. Though she is disappointed that Beqanna is not a pure sanctuary, she is satisfied to know that for the time being there is not a situation of mass destruction brewing just beyond the horizon. And yet she cannot help but contain the small shudder that rakes her frame at the mention of this Carnage.
“You’ve seen bad things.”
For once in the recent past she is ashamed that she could not contain all of her thoughts, but the words were already out in the air and she could not call them back, in spite of how much she wish she could. It was only another assumption, but one formulated on the premise of the afore mentioned unending life he had claimed to have and with the unmistakable lilt of past exposure that tinged the words he spoke. Afraid that she may have stirred up unwanted memories for the man next to her, she acts on uncharacteristic impulse and lightly presses her nose to his shoulder.
“I am sorry if I have overstepped personal boundaries. I hope you can forgive me if I have.”
The spotted woman regards him for a brief moment before averting her brown eyes downward They had only just become acquainted after all, but she could feel the budding of a relationship between them. And Breckin could only hope that she had not just ruined the chance at finalizing a new friendship.
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
He turns his head to look at her again when she makes her observation, and for a second he holds her gaze, and there is a lifetime in his eyes, but he looks away after just a moment, turning his face instead down the path they are walking, though really it’s his ears guiding him as he begins to hear the very beginnings of the waterfall in the distance. He says nothing but relaxes a bit when she reaches over and cautiously touches his shoulder, apologizing. When he looks back towards her, she has already averted her eyes.
The bay stallion reaches over and very briefly returns the touch, and gives her a tiny little half-smile when she looks back towards him. “It’s fine, really,” he responds, “I’ve seen bad things but I’ve also seen good things. I don’t think one can exist without the other – without that balance.” If there were no bad, how then would they define good? It’s a philosophical question he considers sometimes when he is lonely or occupying his mind on sleepless nights. “I find, on average, the good outweighs the bad over time.”
Yes, there are bad dreams and bad memories, but there is so much good in his past as well. The sound of water is growing louder, and a few more steps bring them to the place where the trees open up for the pond that forms at the base of the waterfall. It’s so much smaller than the one that features in his dreams, but it’s his little piece of what-once-was in Ischia. Certainly none of his frozen Tundra lives here, not outside his own ability to create ice, but he can have this little sliver of the Falls. “This is my favorite place in Ischia,” he says, “It reminds me of some of those good things.”
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
The apology she had issued remains hanging in the air and she cannot yet bring her gaze back towards him, even if Breckin had truly wanted to. The way he had looked at her had only cemented her suspicions further. The mischief that dwelled in his eyes only moments ago seemed to be overtaken by what she could only guess was a complicated entanglement of past and present emotions. And it confuses the spotted mare as she tries to understand how that briefest of eye contact alone could cause her so much anxiety.
Surely a lifetime has passed—at least that it was what it feels like—between now and their last word exchange. She begins to worry as the quietness begins to press in on her, afraid that Brennen will suddenly turn to her and tell her to leave because she had indeed overstepped those personal boundaries. But she would understand if that is the path he chose to take. And just as the woman makes the conscious decision to turn and head back towards the way they had come from, she feels the contact of his nose upon her shoulder. Ever so slowly, she musters the courage to drag her browns eyes back to meet his own—still slightly intimidated by the thought of what his expression may hold.
The exquisite sensation of relief overtakes Breckin when her vision traces over the bay stallion’s small, reassuring grin. When he finally speaks to her again, his words fall on quizzical ears as she ponders his musings. His philosophy is something she can recognize as truth, and her pale head dips slightly in agreement. Returning Brennen’s small smile, she internally wonders how old he truly is. Thankfully, this time, she is able to keep that thought private.
The sounds of the rush of water was lost on her until she is upon it; her ears only having been in tune to the anticipated sound of Brennen’s voice. So when they finally step through the foliage and onto the bank of the pond, her eyes cast about rapidly as they try to drink up the beauty that has unfolded before her. “It’s lovely,” she says breathily while her mouth hangs slightly ajar in wonder.
Moving of their own accord, whitened limbs carry her into the shallows of the water, suddenly very aware of how parched she has become. As her dark lips fall to meet the refreshing coolness of the liquid, a devilish thought crosses her mind. Never raising her head, a wicked grin spreads and a spark of her own brand of mischief ignites in her eyes. Raising a hoof, the leopard woman sends a splash of water backward, hoping to hit her bay target, and attempting to return the conversation to something more enjoyable.
@[Brennen]
OOC: I can't be sure, but I think she might be flirting a little. :|
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
The waterfall never fails to impress, nestled here in the jungle, and even that is bittersweet. It’s a familiar thing, the way that the rushing water and clear pool beneath bring joy to almost all who see it, and it lifts his heart to see another person come and find happiness in it. But there is a part of him that compares his little waterfall to the overwhelming one in his memory, the Dazzling Waterfall, and it pales in comparison. But he is able to give those thoughts a quick, sad glance and then push them to the back corner of his mind and watch instead with a quick, fleeting grin as his new friend expresses her astonishment and then wades into the water.
A moment of quiet, the only sound the splash of her hooves in the shadows, and then he has only a moment’s notice of her quick mischievous glance before the water is flying through the air, sparkling in the light that shines down from where the trees must open to allow the waterfall it’s space. He recognizes the playful overture and responds in kind, freezing the water droplets mid-air, so that they fall and shatter with a tinkling sound rather than soaking his chest and legs; they leave a sprinkling of snow-like ice crystals across the rocks at the edge of the pool, melting after only a moment on the sun-warmed rocks.
Lowering his nose to the very surface of the water, he freezes the very topmost surface, sending geometric patterns of ice shooting across the surface towards Breckin, encircling her with a spiral of silvery ice. It’s much too thin to hurt anyone; if she stays perfectly still perhaps the pond will freeze around her legs, but even the slightest movement will shatter the thin membrane. The sun-warmed water will melt the ice in a few minutes just like the rocks without Brennen’s interference, but he won’t maintain it. It was just a momentary, playful thing, not an attempt to keep ice there.
Playing seems out of the realm of what most would expect from the warrior-stallion, but only those who forget how many children he has raised. “I can’t imagine a world without magic anymore,” he says, glancing up at her, remembering the way she had been surprised at his and Scorch’s abilities. “Once, it was rarer here too, but that time seems a world away.”
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
