Where Are You Now; Brennen, Any

[Speck]

I have finally woken from my bizarre, scary, ridiculously crazy dream, and I couldn’t be more excited. As soon as my hooves touch the meadows grass I spring from the ground and make my way toward the Tundra. My mother had told me stories of the snow-covered bachelor land. She told me that it was so cold that my wet nose would freeze and just fall off. She told me that my hooves would not be able to catch the icy floor and that I would fall to my doom. My mother was too silly, and although a bit of me imagined that there may have been some truth to her tales I really want to meet my dad. My dad- All I know is his name, but I imagine him to be heroically big as I am so small. I imagine his voice to be a powerful boom over my head, but his touch to be gentle and encouraging. I imagine my dad is pretty awesome because my own awesomeness had to genetically come from somewhere. As I make my way toward the land of my father I imagine all that I believe him to be. This causes me to pick up my pace to a hurried one. I can feel the stones slam against my hooves as I pick at the dirt to gain leverage. A large breeze of cool air touches my ears causing them to shutter. I am certainly close. When I cross the border into the Tundra I slow my gallop to a walk so that I can better investigate the land. My head arches and I touch my nose to the cold, hardened floor. It smells rustic, old, and mired. I outstretch my tongue and take a slobbery lick at the padded dirt. ”Hmm….” I mumble as a clump of dirt hits my teeth. It is gritty with a touch of water- maybe ice. The dirt doesn’t taste much different than the patches I am used to, what a shame. The dirt keeps me distracted for only a moment because I soon remember my true mission- dad. Slowly I waddle my body forward with more uncertain legs. I can feel a splash of nerves rise up into my stomach causing me to feel a bit queasy. I do hope someone notices my awkward chestnut form before I lose my breakfast. speck tiny daughter of brennen and bother

[Dagny and Olivier]

I won't let you go; so don't leave go of me

They rarely get visitors. The Tundra isn’t the number one vacation destination in Beqanna, nor are they the most welcoming of hosts – between the weather and the residents’ typical reticence, they’re probably low on the list. So when the twins look up from a puddle of thawed snow they have been drinking and find an unfamiliar girl on the other end of their surprised looks, they are quick to bound over.

Well – the girl is quick to bound over, eyes bright. The horned boy is slower to follow but he is on his sister’s heels – as he so often is. “Hello,” she chirps, a child’s delight even though she is no longer a child. Not yet an adult, but not a child. “I’m Dagny. This is my brother, Ollie.” she bumps her shoulder into the pale-colored boy who has come to stand beside her, a more solemn reflection of her. They’re not identical, and he’s taller by a hand or so, not to mention the horn spiraling from his forehead, but their eyes are the same. He may be less enthusiastic, but his face is no less inquisitively friendly.

“Can we help you with something?” the boy asks, tilting his head inquisitively, wondering. A visitor, perhaps a diplomat? A well-disguised threat even? If so they would not be the first line of defense for the Tundra, not in any way. But they make excellent greeters.

Dagny & Olivier

no one can ever follow; no one can ever know

[Brennen]

@[Sprite] @[Speck] sorry for the late response <3

the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love
great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel

like nothing's changed at all?

The Tundra is rarely what one would consider “full of life”. It’s quiet here, it’s almost always quiet, the sheer number of brothers is not overwhelmingly large to begin with. But the reflective snow and ice  means that any sound carries, and they are a watchful bunch. Brennen, in particular, watches. From the cliffs, from the sky; and he doesn’t miss the little chestnut girl who wanders across their borders. Of course it’s not an accidental wander – it would be hard to accidentally find the single opening in their towering ice wall. But there is a difference between visitors and Brothers, and this girl’s gender is a big one.

But he isn’t the first to approach. Even as he takes to the air, to spiral downwards from the cliffs to the ground level, a flash of bright colored motion tells him that some of the children have reached their visitor first. Still, he slowly wings about, landing a ways from them and folding his wings tight against his body before meandering their way. It’s a little thing – he is not huge, at only 15.2, and the twins are still standing below his height (though he notes with a glance that leggy Olivier is rapidly sprouting up to meet him, Dagny not far behind), but they seem to dwarf the stranger.

Cognizant of this, Brennen doesn’t get too close. Even though he’s not overly tall, he does cut an imposing figure on occasion with his huge, trailing inky black wings and deadly grace. Better, for the moment, to let his children take most of the lead here. Dagny, with her bright personality and splashes of strange color, is one of the least intimidating creatures he knows. But he smiles, something drawing him to the girl, and offers his own name. If she’s here on some sort of Kingdom visit, it’ll be him she’d rather talk to than the twins anyway. “Welcome to the Tundra. I’m Brennen.”

brennen

immortal, winged, bone-bending, ice-manipulating Tundra warrior