• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    i've never fallen from quite this high; oriash
    #1
    The air at the northern coast still bites at him despite the passing of the equinox, and Pteron briefly longs for the already-shed protection of his dun winter’s coat. The first light has just begun to edge over Nerine, casting the water ahead and sand at his hooves into a myriad of shades of blue. Pteron enjoys this time of day, enjoys watching the dawn’s light sparkle off the distant glaciers of the Icicle Isle. The dawn grows infinitesimally brighter. The moment a path becomes clear, a soft depression in the sand that leads to a deeper one through the woods, Pteron departs.

    Had he traveled by wing, the journey would have been far shorter. Instead, he takes the central path, albeit at an occasional canter, and arrives at the edge of the land exhausted but pleased with himself by noon. As he stands at the border, his gaze sweeps the open air above him, finally free from the crowding redwood canopy. A bright spring sky spreads wide, and Pteron is unable to resist the allure.

    Despite the tired buzz of his legs, the pegasus’ wings are still fresh, and he banks and wheels for a few minutes for the joy of the wind in his mane. When he lights down, it is at the salty shore of the crescent salt lake. He’s no interest in drinking the saltwater, but he follows the inner curve until he finds the sweetwater spring that flows into the lake. There he drinks enough to slake his thirst and then turns to look around, curious who might be about.

    He has not returned to Loess since his departure six months past, and he wonders what might have changed. The smoking remnants of the maze have vanished, blending with the rolling hills and scrubland that Pteron remembers so fondly. Has anyone new come to the hilly kingdom, he wonders. Has anyone left? The young stallion seeks out the familiar piebald coats of his dragonkin, but looks also for a pattern of blue on white on gold, curious if Ori still remains. Had her captivity ended with the Tephran war, he wonders, or does Castile still hold her as a breathing bargaining chip? The nearby hills remain empty a while long, and so Pteron takes another long draught and considers the location of the nearest hotspring. Though not nearly as cold as northern Taiga, there is enough of a chill in the air here that a hot soak might be fun.

    @[Oriash]
    #2

    Oriash

    they promised that dreams can come true

    She stayed of her own free will. Despite knowing that Castile sees her as a win in his endless war and a tool to be used for later, she stayed. Why? It was a good question, one that she couldn’t quite answer. The place felt like home for some reason, even if she barely knew the residents or why it felt like home. It simply did, and so she stayed. Stayed in the place that didn’t seem to mind her, that noticed her even if it noticed her for all the wrong reasons. She wasn’t so blind as to not know what she was, in a way, agreeing too. It was worth trying, worth deciding if this was who she wanted to be. Because she wanted to be more than what she was, more than a pawn in someone else’s game that she didn’t even understand.

    But then again, how could she be more when she couldn’t tell the difference between illusion and reality, when her mothers flickered in and out of her life like the spirits they had become to her. They plagued her less now, ever since Solace had found her. Still, sometimes they appear for short bursts before she banishes them. Ori didn’t blame Solace for getting sick, for nearly dying, just as Solace didn’t blame Ori for being the cause of that. She had no ill will and the lack of hard feelings seemed to keep her illusion at bay. Kagerus, on the other hand, she couldn’t help but blame. Kagerus could have stayed – should have stayed – but her mother deserted her for her lover instead of a child that needed her. She simply didn’t want to see her face, and so she never let them linger.

    Still, sometimes the world changed without her noticing. Sometimes she dreamed of the black beaches of the Cove and they simply appeared, replacing the lake shore of Loess. That was the only thing she missed about the Cove, though it was a strange thing for her to miss. Why miss the place where you found yourself alone and abandoned? And yet, she did. Today though, the world remains as it should be, chilly but bright beneath the midday sun. The weather was slowly getting warming, creeping back to summer. Time crawled and flew, all at once.

    With nothing to do, as is usually the case in her life, she finds herself simply wandering about Loess. It’s quiet lately, but eventually she spots a familiar form, and a small smile spreads onto her lips. She hadn’t seen Pteron, perhaps the closest thing to a friend that she had, in months now and she finds herself glad to stumble upon him today. She makes her way over at a quick walk, nickering lightly in greeting as she approaches. “Pteron,” she says simply, “It’s good to see you.”

    but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.



    @[Pteron]

    Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission

    #3
    When the shadow of the fern reaches the little patch of prickly pear, he tells himself. That’s when he’ll give up waiting here by the shoreline and head out in search of a hot spring. There’s no use wasting the daylight, Pteron thinks, but in the end the fern shadow has crept across only half the distance when he is greeted. The stallion hears them first, pricking his pale ears toward the sound of hooves. The coming horse is just appearing around the edge of nearby hill when Pteron spots them, and when the stallion recognizes her he smiles.

    Though she is in some ways much changed, there is no denying the identity of the filly he considers a friend despite their time apart. The bright leopard spots on the snow white, the golden wings. Even the antlers, though those have become far more impressive since the last time he’d seen them.  They must grow like the deer they resemble, Pteron decides, with additional tines for each passing year. Yes, he recalls, Aegean’s antlers had been just a bit larger than these when they’d met on the shore of the Silver Cove. How big they must be now. Pteron is glancing at Ori’s antler admiringly as she approaches, and when his olive gaze meets hers it is with a happy smile.

    Pteron considers reaching out to her the way he would his family, but decides against it at the last moment.

    He’d rather not be too forward regardless of the friendship he feels for her, and so instead returns her greeting with a happy wicker of his own. “It’s good to see you too,” He tells her with a smile. “I’d wanted to come back sooner but I’ve been busy; trying to learn a whole territory in six months isn’t an easy task.” The pegasus knows the more populous areas of his northern home now, but there are still a great many hidden places in the shadows of the redwoods. “What about you, Ori? What have you been up to this winter?”

    @[Oriash]
    #4

    Oriash

    they promised that dreams can come true

    He has grown as well, and there’s no denying the fact that he’s no longer a child. Not that it has been so terribly long, and he had been older than her before as well, but still, somehow the time felt vast and important these last 6 months. Like somehow everything had changed in those months, and perhaps they had. Pteron had settled elsewhere, she assumes, or simply decided not to settle in Loess. Whereas Ori had decided to stay, decided not to return home, not to reclaim her birthright, but to build a life somewhere fresh and new.

    Well, fresh and new to a point. No matter what she did, Ori somehow seemed to carry around the shadow of her mother’s. They didn’t appear now (usually) without her actively doing so, and yet she was rarely seen as anything but the stolen child of Solace and Kagerus. It was a mantle she was growing tired of carrying, a skin she wanted to shed.

    He greets her warmly enough, and it’s the first time she finds herself relaxing into a conversation. How strange, she thinks, and how pleasant. “Where did you end up?” she asks, having a vague idea of where he might have gone but she wasn’t entirely sure. Loess had stretched itself across a lot of Beqanna – too much, she’s beginning to think, but that’s not a thought she shares aloud.

    Then he asks about her, and the truth is, she’s done very little besides wander around Loess and work on her illusions. Perhaps she ought to get out more and go meet some horses or something, or at least see Beqanna, but she finds she rarely leaves. Instead of answering, she sticks out a wing and lets it vanish, painting it away. This was a harder skill to master on moving targets, constantly keeping the world around herself correct in her illusion, but she’d been getting better at it.

    She gives him a bit of a playful grin, clearly remembering how they met. And then, after a moment, she vanishes, creating the illusion of a breeze around them like some weird magic was at work. After a moment, she reappears with a slight shrug and a small, amused grin. “Practicing.”

    but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.



    @[Pteron]

    Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission

    #5
    “Taiga.” He tells her without hesitation, gesturing without thought to the distant forest. It is lost from sight beyond the rolling hills, but the pungent scent of the trees never really seems to leave his nose. It is like the stone dust of Loess had been when he’d called this place home, and like the sweet wildflowers of the Pampas where he’d been born. It is a reminder of where his parents are, of where his home is.

    Pteron quashes the question that always rises, the lingering doubt that Taiga is truly his home. Where else could his home be? Surely it is there among the redwood trees, where the sky is hidden and his wings stay pressed against his sides more often than not. The young stallion would sometimes swear his bones themselves were growing heavier with the time spent on the ground.

    “I don’t think I want to live there.” He adds abruptly, and it is clear from the expression on his startled face that he’d meant to keep that to himself. Well, he supposes, the cat’s out of the bag and Ori is far less likely to react negatively to this admission than he thinks his family will. “But I don’t think I know where I want to live either. I mean, Taiga is nice and all and I like Loess but like,” He trails off after the sudden chatter, both because he doesn’t really have anything to compare this sensation to, and also because Ori’s wing has suddenly disappeared.

    Recalling their meeting with a delighted grin he reaches forward to where it had been. He knows that the wrist of her wings should be brushing against his curiously questing mouth, yet he tastes nothing but air.

    “You’ve gotten better,” he says to the space where Oriash had been. Olive eyes trace the gust of wind that shakes the grass around them, and it doesn’t occur to him until after that the breeze too has been a figment of her magic. “Much better,” he amends when she reappears, grinning widely. “Is that even you?” He glances around himself, as though the Oriash in front of him might be the illusion and the real one still hidden from his sight by trickery.

    @[Oriash]
    #6

    Oriash

    they promised that dreams can come true

    Taiga he says, and it occurs to her that there are so many lands and she knows so few of them. She knows the Cove and Loess. She rarely leaves this place she’s grown so used to spending her time, and she wonders if she hasn’t just become a contented prisoner. In some ways, perhaps she has. In some ways, perhaps she has chained herself in without ever truly entertaining the notion of more. More of life, more from herself. She could be so much more than she is. She could change the world, shape and manipulate minds, could deceive even the cleverest horse. Yet here she is, creating rainbows, making the wind blow, or simply disappearing from view.

    Maybe that was enough, and maybe it wasn’t. She didn’t know how to tell.

    Pteron keeps talking, words tumbling out like he didn’t mean to say them, admitting that he doesn’t know if he wants to live here. Her eyes go just a little wider, her gaze focusing on him as she speaks. Her trick interrupts the conversation, and she’s almost sorry for it, but at the same time she wonders how much to tell him and is enjoying the brief respite to collect her thoughts. It is easier now, manipulating the world around them even when her mind is somewhere else.

    She reappears, grinning. “It’s me,” she says. The idea of being somewhere else has never crossed her mind. She’d have to be close enough to see and hear what was going on, or she’d have to go collect herself some mind reading skills to be farther. Still though, she could hide herself if she feared danger and send an illusion instead. Or just because. The idea plays through her mind but then, remembering his earlier admittance, she sobers.

    “I know what you mean. I like it here...” she trails off for a moment. She did like it here. She liked Castile, even if she shouldn’t. She liked the land, and the few others she met. And yet… “I don’t even know what else is out there.” She lets the truth hang there like her wings, things kept tucked to her side so frequently she sometimes she forgot she had them. The world was at her disposal, and yet, she wandered aimlessly and didn’t even know where to begin.

    but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.



    @[Pteron]

    Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission

    #7
    A soft breath of true wind ripples past them as Oriash confirms that the figure in front of him is truly her. It carries with it the scent of full summer, and the warmth of earth baked beneath the sun. Ori no longer smells of the Silver Cove, Pteron realizes. The last time he’d seen her there had remained something of the coastal kingdom, yet the leopard filly in front of him is entirely of Loess. The tobiano stallion has wondered why she’d stayed past the terms of her captivity and then after the smoke of war cleared, but he has been grateful enough for her continued presence that he’d not dug further for answers.

    Pteron knows that there are changes in the West, and that the Sanctuary that her mothers had founded is reshaping itself into a new creature. He does not know much beyond that change is happening; the details are not of much interest to the olive-eyed stallion. Those eyes are fixed on Oriash as she answers him. There is no qualifier in what she says, but the pause after her admission of liking it in Loess sounds to Pteron like empathy much more than sympathy. It reminds him that he has never asked.

    “There’s nothing keep you here,” he says, and though his tone betrays nothing his green gaze does flick back toward her briefly from the horizon onto which it has wandered. “You could go and see everything else that’s out there.” He lets that hang there for only a moment, adding: “I’ve heard the Icicle Isle has the best views of the northern lights in the winter, but I bet they’d still be nice in the fall. We wouldn’t turn to icicles if we go early enough either.”

    @[Oriash]
    #8

    Oriash

    they promised that dreams can come true

    Sometimes she doesn’t know why she stays. It feels like home, and so she stays, though she doesn’t know what home is truly supposed to feel like. The land is kind to her, and Castile is kindly enough in his way, and the rest? Well, she hardly knows them. Brunhilde seems intrigued by her, which might be the closest thing to kindness Brunhilde knows. Yet Ori knows no one else but Pteron, who does not even call Loess home anymore. It is her own fault, she knows. Ori spends more time creating worlds around her than living in the real world, and still some days she wonders if those she sees and meets are real or simply her own mind gone astray. Even if her mother’s don’t plague her so often, she still does not truly know the difference between reality and illusion.

    There’s nothing keeping you here, he says, and she finds his gaze as his eyes flick back to hers for a moment. His attention though lingers on the horizon, and she ruffles the underused wings on her back. They felt like decoration to her, were always an afterthought to the earth-bound girl. But they were not decoration, and she was not earth-bound. They were freedom, and she a naïve fool.

    He keeps talking, telling her how she could see everything and it sounds lovely and lonely all at once. Ori is so used to staying, so used to not truly existing as her illusions don’t truly exist. Perhaps she had begun, in some small way, to believe herself an illusion. Then he speaks of Icicle Isle and it’s lights, but the word that catches her attention is not based on beauty.

    “We?” she asks, hope in her voice. What a strange feeling, the hope to be with someone else. It is not something she is familiar with, and the fear of rejection feels like a stab wound in her side already and yet…and yet he had said we. So she waits, just that one word hanging in the air, but oh, oh how she would go with him.

    but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.



    @[Pteron]

    Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission

    #9
    “Yes. We.” He replies, reaching out to bump his nose against her jaw playfully.

    “You’ll need me there to pull you out of a snowdrift if you get stuck,” Pteron adds with a grin as he pulls away. “Make sure you practice in the meantime,” he gestures at her bicolored wings with his blue muzzle, shrugging his own as he does. “It’s not going to be an easy flight across the ocean in the dark.” Because of course they’ll fly in the dark; that is the most adventurous sort of time to fly. They’ll get there just in time to see the best of the lights, and be gone before anyone finds them. Pteron knows that the place is cold, but he is without fear when it comes to weather.

    “I have to get back to Taiga now,” he says as a glance down at his shadow  reveals how quickly time has passed. It’s always this way with Ori, Pteron realizes. Hours slip by and he feels like it has been barely a moment. It’s a trait Oriash shares with her brother, though one that Pteron thinks it might be best that she and Aegean do not know they share.

    “But meet me in Taiga before the next new moon, and we’ll go see the lights.” Pteron steps forward again, and this time he wraps his head over and around her neck in a hug. The night black strands of her mane are dusted with Loessian red, and her skin smells of the hills and both the sweet and brackish springs that hide in them. He’s hugged her before, and it was no different than hugging Marni or Eyas. They don’t smell like Loess though, like memories of a time when things were simpler, and they don’t have antlers that bring to mind memories that heat his blood or have such very long lashes veiling their pretty eyes.

    Pteron flushes and pulls away, turning to pluck a stray feather from his spreading wings rather than meet her gaze. He straightens a few more, and when he is able to look at her again, there’s no sign at all of his wayward thoughts.

    “I’ll see you soon, Ori.” The young stallion tells her. Then he spreads his wings, breaks into a gallop, and at the crest of the nearest hill lifts off into the sky.

    @[Oriash]
    When you’re back maybe we can start a thread in Taiga and/or the Icicle Isle? I’m good with either!




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)