"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
03-02-2022, 01:24 PM (This post was last modified: 03-02-2022, 02:06 PM by Obscene.)
Don't look back, nothing left to see I can feel you though, wake me from this dreamin
With the two most unexpected supporters at his side, they move through the territory with purpose eating at each of their steps. He strides through the Taiga now as if it is already his, wildflowers spreading wherever his hooves land. And it is his, as far as he is concerned. It will never be the Pampas, it is nothing close to the dusky canyons of Loess. It is not the volcano of his birthland. None of them really want to be here but yet… Here they are.
Between the three of them, they can easily breathe new life into a dying land.
After all, it had been done before.
There is nothing but his schooled features of indifference and casual disdain flashing in the eyes of red as he takes the lead, forcing the two mares behind him as if that’s their proper place with the force of his stride and a cool glance of reminding. Aela had always wanted him to be more and Cheri (whatever her reasoning) had encouraged this. This is the monster of their creation and he’s no longer wary of the challenge.
Besides, he had always looked so damn good in a crown.
Taiga’s will do.
Oren is not, like Obscene, the type to step forward. Not to lead anyway; maybe if asked, but he is much too interested in the rest of the world to stick to one place, and be responsible for it - he’d start a patrol and get lost in some place and find himself studying the pattern of a moth’s wing; he’d greet someone and never be able to turn them away, because they’re probably fascinating.
The trio marching into the trees is fascinating, too, and he recognises at least one of them but maybe the other mare too? He’s sure he’s seen her face at some point but his attention is already drawn to the male who leads this odd little train. And so he comes to greet them, but he doesn’t really object to their presence; or halt anyone for that matter. Should they let him, Oren would just tilt his head at them and stare, trying to figure out where they’re from or why they’re here, then follow and ask his million questions all at once. Normally he would already be firing them, but something in the way that they walk and hold themselves, something in the stallion’s eyes, it grounds him long enough.
Curiosity makes way for confusion and if unchecked long enough, it’d make room for indifference. The current leader hadn’t been born or raised in Taiga either, so it wasn’t going to be that much of a change, he figures.
”Uhh. Hi.” Taken aback by the trio, almost literally so, the gold-marked roan with the firefly on his ear tries to make contact in the most clumsy way. And that for the social butterfly he normally is.
If the circumstances were different, if it’d just been Obscene and Aela taking charge here, Cheri wouldn’t dare to fall in step behind the steelheaded southern Prince. She’d been Queen, once… and she’d never taken Aela as a back row sort of mare. It did feel a little odd to watch the switch being turned on by Obscene; he masterfully discarded the cool, even-tempered stallion she’d come to know and replaced him with the sneering, red-eyed tyrant who had made a name for himself out of nothing. It shouldn’t surprise Cheri by now, but it still does - just a little bit.
She checked herself, recalling the entire midsummer festival held in honor of the sun returning to power, and remembered her father being crowned with every name of importance there to watch.
How could she be hypocritical? This fanfare with the carpets of flowerbeds and the dark Fae being flanked by goddess-like creatures, it wasn’t so ostentatious, was it? To her reasoning, the entire ordeal seemed small when compared to the way Leilan turned Icicle Isle into a playground for visitors. And besides: there was essentially no one here to witness their coming.
Not the rumored leader who’d taken her twin brother, Reynard’s, assumed place as Guardian. Not her other siblings, or cousins, or even the desired appearance of another challenger to keep things interesting. No one came; no one except Oren.
His confused regards (a simple “hi”) bring a rather wry sort of grin to Cheri’s face, prompting her to study the golden markings, the line of vicious-looking spikes along his back, and the finer details of his height, weight, and facial structure. Recognition itched at the back of her skull, irritating her, until at last the answer revealed itself.
“Your sister was the little gardener, wasn’t she? Roselin, if I remember correctly.” Cheri murmured, recalling the way Oren and his twin had looked when they were just spindly-legged foals. Age and good bloodlines had done their work in the time between, however; Oren was nearly a mature stallion.
All of this she said aloud, mostly for the benefit of Obscene. Aela’s reaction she couldn’t guess. Perhaps the gold-striped mare was of a similar mind, or perhaps not, when it came to their shared relations. Cheri wasn’t shy to claim them. Any horse could be a potential benefit to them right now, and if Oren was interested enough to stick around through the slumbering months of Taiga’s activity, then perhaps he’d be interested in staying around a little longer.
03-07-2022, 02:18 PM (This post was last modified: 03-07-2022, 02:23 PM by Aela.)
Aela still doesn’t quite understand how Fate is weaving its threads here - how it's twining the three of them together - but she understands enough that she won’t argue (much) with it. There had been the Pampas, and now the Pampas was gone. There had been a Court, and now that Court was gone. There had been an entire kingdom, and now that was gone. She had wanted to be gone from Taiga - from the North entirely - and yet here she was, left with no other option but to come North.
She doesn’t take kindly to this - to her path forward being so plainly shown to her without any alternatives - but if Aela is going to take her place back on the kingdom stage of politics, she will do what she has to. So she is back in Taiga, watching as the Fae beast claims the territory for himself, and her mind reels with the possibilities that this brings.
With the things they must do.
With the horses they have yet to find.
Oren snaps her out of those thoughts, and it takes everything in her not to scowl at the stallion with Lilliana’s eyes. There is someone here - much to her belief that the Redwoods were empty - but it doesn’t seem the bay is here to oppose them. His curiosity is easy enough to detect, almost as much as Ledger’s lust had been in Loess. Aela simply stands quietly, listening to Cheri make inquiries about her half-sister, and the palomino glances around, as if Oren’s twin might not be far behind him. She decides to skip the pleasantries entirely.
"Are there others here?” she asks, aware of the Shadow Clans, but what about the other ones? Aela would not tolerate any opposition to their takeover, and if there was any, the sooner she learned of it, the sooner she could smother it.
Don't look back, nothing left to see I can feel you though, wake me from this dreamin
The flowers spread out before him and he smirks as he correctly assumes that the two behind him must be wondering for whose benefit this is for. His or theirs? It had been clear when they had arrived that the woods were too quiet and that what little life was here preferred to keep to themselves. However, the Dark Fae would not be surprised if this forest held eyes. If there was an audience that may be watching that they were unaware of. It’s for them he makes this display as much as it’s a calling card to lure out those that are hiding.
Let rumor spread that the Cruel Prince of Flowers had returned, for better or worse.
One does appear, a young stallion, who approaches them seeming both curious and a little flustered. The black and gold Fae says nothing, red eyes glittering coldly back at him. It’s not Oren that he’s disappointed in. He had been hoping for another appearance, the faint scent that he had caught on their arrival. When no others appear besides the boy, he snorts in irritation.
There had been a subtle glance he had caught from the once Loessian Queen and he turns that smirk to her, a secret that only she can see between them. He is what he is, what she sees as a switch is something that comes naturally to him because he still is this being as much as he is the man who tries to shed his scales for her. He is still a trickster who sees the world in gray. He will not shy from cruel words or viciousness as much as he understands and embraces the ones that are drawn to him from shadows. Those that seem to like his choices and methods. He is use to ruling a darker court with dark intentions even if his heart wasn’t completely black.
However.
He is also not exactly the stallion he use to be. He is not as hard as he use to be, the layers of protection that he had curled himself behind that he had begun to lay down for her. The brightness that had snuck beneath his armor when Obsidio had been born.
So he takes some of the edge away from glittering crimson and while the smirk remains, he removes some of its sharpness as he looks back at Oren. Just some, he had prestige to keep. A long finely pointed ear swiveled in Cheri’s direction as she speaks to this male she knows. There is only one question he has but Aela beats him to it, as blunt as he had planned to be. Remaining silent, his gaze blazes down on Oren waiting for an answer that he believes he already knows.
Initially, there is only one kind face between the three of them. The bay roan gets a cold glare from the red-eyed male, but his own bright blues fix on the slim, stone-covered mare. She tries hard to remember and so does the spiky roan; when she asks her question he had already opened his mouth to ask if she’s Cheri - she had gone to Loess, he remembers Yanhua saying. Technically that would make him her uncle, but as with most families, relations did not abide to time or generations, as he was born younger than her.
Her question collides with his, ”Are you from the South?” - a deduction he directs at all three of them. He then nods quickly to the Chrystal mare - distracted enough (and used to such looks as from Obscene by now) that he answers her, first. ”Roselin’s on the Isle, with Nash and dad.” The ice-breathing twin had loved the idea of living in the snow and while Oren certainly didn’t mind, he also hadn’t cared enough to officially move.
But others had. ”Some.” He answer the mare who looks too much like mother to be a coincidence. ”Nobody who deals in politics though.” he tells them then: the chestnut mare who might otherwise ask about mom, the dark fae stallion who would want a diplomat or a leader, to which Oren cannot direct him, and Cheri, who should know that her family, too, wouldn’t show up today.
He seems to regain some sense with that answer - he doesn’t look at the eerily familiar chestnut, but looks to Obscene who, despite his best efforts, reminds Oren of his father. Something in the way he smirks, cold but not entirely so. And besides, that is the reason Oren was born with an immunity to the cold, right? So he should be fine with cold glares, he’d reason. ”Are you taking over? Why you, and not,” he looks back to Cheri, ”You? Are you hurt?” he asks while he realises she doesn’t look entirely at the top of her game. ”Should I fetch Reave of Nashua?” he then blurts out. Again he is late with the realisation, but maybe that’s what they’re here for. Other leaders.
Oren
I'll follow you when the stars go blue
@Cheri you’re up first so I’m lazy and only tagging you. Here’s Oren’s first (im)famous questions
They had woken her from slumber, and that, more than anything else, annoys her. Of course, in her present state, they would never even know. Which is almost as annoying as being disturbed. In the dim light of the forest, she is nearly always imbued with strength, but with the sun still hanging heavy in the sky outside the dark confines of the trees, she is invisible.
Huffing out an annoyed breath, Wrenley watches the small group. It had become abundantly clear they were here to claim leadership of Taiga. This does not bother her in the slightest. Her family has dwelled in this forest for ages while many others with ambition in their eyes had come to claim the seat and been gone just as quickly.
They had always been the silent protector’s of this place though. A fact in which Wrenley takes no small amount of pride. Of course, it’s not her that serves as protection so much as her shadowy relations, but semantics. They never cared to claim the credit anyway. She is not nearly so humble.
It’s hard to say how many eyes there might be secreted in the shadows or if she alone is watching. She never tried to track her siblings. It is impossible anyway.
Standing silent sentinel in the shadows isn’t truly what she wants to do, though she has little choice. Another irritated huff of breath escapes her as she eyes the group, expression sour despite the fact that it cannot be seen. Her curiosity is destined to remain unsated. Until the sun sunk beyond the horizon and twilight stretched across the land, she would remain unseen. A pity, really. She has beauty enough to rival every single one of these newcomers.
Perhaps her invisibility is a good thing however. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to resist giving in to temptation and declaring that there are, in fact, others. Many others. Others they would never be able to see, smell, or hear coming if they thought to remove them from their home. She knows her extensive family would not object to their claiming of the territorial seat, so long as they were left in peace. What she really wants to know though, is whether or not it’s something they intend to do.
With that thought, she glares at the canopy overhead, still thick with foliage despite the chill of the season. Sunset could not come quickly enough.
Oren (it would seem) had enough to say for every horse involved in the takeover. Cheri’s smile grew in depth and warmth, her expression clearly moved by the stallion’s concern on her behalf, but as she took a step toward him and away from Obscene and Aela, her eyes darted quickly to the empath and then back again.
The look was clear: it begged Aela to work her magic just a little, just to calm Oren down in case his mouth ran away from him.
“I’m weak, but recovering daily.” She assured her half-uncle, then told him how pleasantly surprised she was to hear that Rose had gone north to be with their father.
Casual, small talk in between answering his next question.
“I’ll still be guarding Taiga as her Champion.” Cheri’s warm smile took a brief, sinister turn - more playful than threatening. “Someone needs to keep these two in line.”
The green and black Pegasus returned, then, to Obscene’s side opposite Aela. Oren’s other questions were not for her - though she could’ve talked to the spiny dracanoid all afternoon, if given the chance. Instead she settled into her place and listened attentively, all the while doing her best to ignore the sensation of being watched from afar.
The woods are dark, and the shadows always look back at you, She told herself, pushing the uncomfortable sensation away.
03-16-2022, 08:36 PM (This post was last modified: 03-16-2022, 08:46 PM by Aela.)
There is little warmth in the blue eyes that regard Oren. They appear as welcoming as Leilan’s Isle; at least, as welcoming as a barren, almost inhospitable ice tundra might appear to the horses of Beqanna who enjoyed their green, grazing grounds and feeling the warmth of the sun on their hides.
The bay roan is full of questions, and Aela is feeling short on patience.
She doesn’t miss Cheri’s gaze. The request there is obvious to the Empath when Aela catches the former Queen’s questioning glance. Obscene remains as unmoving as a mountain, silent and emanating a presence of power and authority. Good, Aela thinks. This is the kind of image that they need; this is the kind of image that Aela can work with to help build a reputation and regain what they lost with the Pampas.
The younger stallion wants to know where they are from, but his palomino half-sister says nothing. She only continues to watch him with that calculating stare, wondering if he was here to oppose what they had begun. But the questions keep continuing and as gently as snow can fall in the beginning of winter, Aela allows a sense of calm to permeate the clearing that they had all gathered in. Perhaps it would be enough to slow Oren’s continuing questions (otherwise she would have to smother them all in it).
Aela continues to remain silent, though she arches a slender brow at the spotted mare’s retort that Cheri was there to keep them in line. The golden mare rarely drew them, let alone considered them. Her lovely head tilts to Obscene to regard him before finally answering one of the Taigans many questions. ”Reave already knows we’re here,” the striped woman says, and apparently, there were other things in these woods that knew they were here as well. It came as a prickling sensation in the back of her skull, the sensation of being watched despite only seeing shadow between the trees.
”But perhaps you might fetch Nashua,” Aela continues, brightening at the thought of a chance for mischief. ”I’m sure he would be glad to know that we are here.” She finally smiles.
Don't look back, nothing left to see I can feel you though, wake me from this dreamin
The sharp glitter of malice the dark Fae shoots the other stallion when he begins to ramble his questions isn’t part of this “show” but something entirely real. It’s not that Oren wasn’t useful or even unwelcome, he seemed close to bursting at the seams with his need to talk. Something they could use… But also something that could be used against them. As the younger stallion wonders aloud why Cheri had not come to claim the Taiga, his smirk only deepens. Her response makes Aela’s brow raise but he merely glances at her. For a fraction of a second, the depths of red glitter with amusement and a promise. He would quite like to see how far she would go to “keep him in line.”
The sensation of calm settles over the small group and he can feel some tension release involuntarily even as his pointed ears pin to his skull. Shaking silky ribbons of black and gold along his neck, trying to dispel the irritation of having emotion pressed against him, he turns his attention towards the dark shadows of the woods beyond where he’s certain the sensation of being watched is coming from. His crimson gaze scans the area and sees nothing. However, that didn’t mean nothing was there. An impish gleam flashes in a red eye, remembering what little Cheri had told him of the clans that had once lived here… Or perhaps, they still did.
It wasn’t the first time he had encountered guardians of a land that would evade him until they wished to be seen or found. (He thinks of Revelrie, the gray ghost of the wildflowers, and painfully pushes her image and that of their son from his mind.) The faint click of scales sounds where they settle along his underbelly as he considers the redwoods. There is only a thought and then the flowers are spreading into those murkier parts where he suspects someone might be lurking. A peace offering.
He has no intention of removing those that wished to be here just as he hadn’t to those that avoided him in the Pampas. If they wished to be left alone, then they would be. In time, maybe, they would seek him out like Revelrie had.
Aela’s mention of Nashua brings him back to the current conversation and he doesn’t bother to stifle his sigh, looking incredibly bored. “No.” One word that reverberates through the clearing with the weight of his command. “You.” His sharp gaze lands back on Oren, the talker. Before he can speak, he catches a glimmer of brightness through the fog before Light bursts into view and glides towards him. The glowing orb dances over his head and he glances up with his long ears pricked, as if listening, before looking back at Oren. “Is Bardot here?”
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}
