"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
Opheria had never been a difficult child, not meek per say, but never difficult. She’d always been on the outskirts of things, weary of dipping her toes in the metaphorical water. She had been here several times before, always on the outskirts, never in the mix of things…perpetually hanging in indecision. Today was different. She could feel it in her bones, smell the change in the air. Springtime always brought about change. This spring she would make changes for herself.
OOC: I’m sorry about the utter craptasticness of this starter post. It’s been a while for me. Someone just come talk to her, I’ll get better I promise.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
It's spring, but, summer is well on it's way. The days are growing hotter, and soon the sun will scorch the green-looking grass that flies towards her - okay well, she flies towards the grass. Her landing soft, practised now instead of when she'd met her daughter's father. It seems ages ago, and with a weary smile on her face, she shakes her head. No, he wasn't around to tell him that he had a kid, and so there was no need to go look for him.
What she was looking for instead, was another horse to talk to. Perhaps they'd like Hyaline, perhaps not - not for her to decide. Her trained recruiting eye searched for the outliers, the newcomers, the outcasts - the sanctuary kingdom would take them all in, if they wanted. And so, with some meandering about, it she spotted the black-and-white figure in the distance clearly.
She approached with a trot and a soft smile on her lips. "Good day." she opened, for lack of anything better than a greeting.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Opheria]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Opheria is quiet in the Field, her soft breaths lost amidst the low thrum of chatter around her. She watches, as she always does, with ever curious eyes as horses are whisked away to and fro by others looking to further their own means, or their Kingom’s. She has always been intrigued by the comings and goings, and while she was native born, it had all seemed so odd. She could not deny that she had grown melancholy in her solitude, yet until now she had not been compelled to do anything to change her own circumstances. Like her mother before her, she had been content to simply be blown about by the wind, settling in one place for only a moment before being swept off to another. Such was the way of life for nomads like her.
She cannot place what it is but Opheria craves…..more. It is as if her world has been of black and white and while she has not seen the colors she craves them. She craves saturation in her very dry day to day. Who could fault her that?
She spies an approaching form and regards the white mare with a mixture of curiosity and relief. She has always hated dawdling, and the attention she feels it draws. Yet what else is one to do in this place? You’re either dawdling, or you’re recruiting, and the ivory dipped girl had nothing to recruit for. She smiles in friendly welcome, expression open and kind. She’d never been the rude sort, and was quick to try to set herself up for a positive interaction. Her ears flit forward, catching the short greeting offered forth. ”Good day.” she offers back, her voice soft but worn with disuse. ”I’m Opheria, and you are?”
.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The air grows hotter each day, but right now it’s bareable. Which is why the black and white mare stood out - others would take these days to move around, catch up on gossip, or simply take notice of the foals, watch over them, that sort of stuff. All before the summer heat would contain the activities of life to the most basic ones necessary. But not this mare, and when Ilma greeted her, it seemed she rarely used her voice at all.
Not that the white mare minded, of course. She never did. There were those who craved homes and those who wandered, and those in between. She was here for the first and the last kind, and it looked like her new conversation partner might be one of them. ”I’m Ilma, from the sanctuary kingdom, Hyaline.” she explained. Opheria was approachable and likeable, something she could appreciate in another. Something Hyaline could use in the coming days, and months. A diplomat or simply someone to help oversee the residents; as long as they were kind and friendly to others.
That was, if she could like the idea to live with them of course. ”Do you have a place to call home yourself?” Of course, she’d not like the other mare less for it if she weren’t even looking to find a home, so, best make sure first. Maybe she’d ask about Hyaline, maybe if she had another kingdom they could talk differences and similarities. Ilma wouldn’t mind either.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Opheria]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
