"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
If only she had stayed in the redwoods. She hadn’t.
After ghosting the woods of mist for so long, the pull for some sort of companionship (the need to do something) finally outweighs her desire to wait and see. The little unicorn leaves the safety of the fog only a few days before a certain trio arrives in it. Fate or chance? It was left to be seen.
It is Nerine that she travels to, curious if the land was as quiet as the one she had come from. It interested her, this place that had once held the last of the Amazonians and that her dearly departed mother had spoken fondly of. If it hadn’t been for Yanhau, she might have come to the granite cliffs long before she had gone to Taiga. Liz had shared with her the stories of Nayl and her time in Nerine including what had happened to her when she had been pregnant with her brother. How Obscene’s father and Nayl had destroyed part of Sylva to free her from a family member that she didn’t like speaking of. It had only further peaked her interest, had made a mental checkpoint to discovery the history herself.
Then the South had fallen and other things had taken priority, the thought of traveling shoved to the back of her mind.
Now, she has nothing but time. Once again completely on her own with no ties to anywhere or anyone.
Beneath her thick winter coat, she can feel the cold seeping into her bones from the persistent rain that covers the Kingdom in a gray haze. Golden eyes take in the new surroundings with interest, picking her way carefully through the silvery sand and then through the boggy moors and wonders how on earth her mother had come to love this place. It’s so open, so exposed. How had the Amazonians of the jungle come to call this place home?
The more she travels through the territory, the better she comes to understand exactly what they had seen in this place. There is a wild beauty to Nerine that does, in a strange way, remind her of the untamed jungle. And that’s what it is, this place is untamed. Free. By the time she rises over a cliff, hooves striking against the granite as she comes to settle and observe the view, and sees the ocean spread wide in front of her… She smiles. No wonder Tantalize had liked it here. She gets it now.
They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
He rarely considers the legacy he had been handed when he had taken Nerine at the tender age of two. The legacy carried by his grandmother and her grandmother before that. Generations of his lineage had held this throne. Many might consider it fate, him sitting on this ancient seat of power. Reave never had. If anything, it is nothing more than a testament to the power of genetics.
His restless soul often leads him beyond the boundaries of Nerine. Even so, no matter how often he wanders, he always returns. If he were a more introspective sort, he might have tried to pinpoint the reasons and overcome them. But he is not. He doesn’t like to think about the nightmare that had trapped him here for eons. He only knows he must prove time and again how false it had been.
He could have left, never to be bothered by it again, but stubborn pride had kept him from it. For all he could not stay still, he has never run from his problems. No, he is far more prone to running into problems he should stay out of.
Rune is ahead of him as Reave crosses the border back into his kingdom. The air is crisp against him, a stiff breeze ruffling the thick winter coat he had grown to contend with the North’s harsher climate. But he loves it, even when ice clings to his bones and frost peppers his whispers until he looks like nothing so much as an ancient prophet.
The eagle is the one who warns him he has a visitor. He might have left them alone as he often does with those who come to this land without devious intent, but something draws him in instead. The potential of a future beyond those he usually gleans from visitors. So he shifts his course, approaching the mare with a lazy grace that declares his casual intent. When he has reached a conversational distance, he greets her with an engaging smirk. “If you’re here to admire the scenery, I would be happy to give you a tour of the best vistas.”
Having been raised in the world of politics and kingdoms, she knew what proper etiquette was. One didn’t usually just waltz into a kingdom unannounced without repercussions. And yet she had, against every instinct and every lesson of diplomacy that had been engrained into her memory. A thrill of defiance, a recklessness spurred by desperation. That desire to be found.
Nerine does not disappoint her. Not in its wild beauty or in the fulfillment of her needs.
It’s the eagle she spots first, flying low in the gray skies. And then he appears, a smirk on his lips. She knows who he is of course, having heard enough during her time in the Pampas about the stallion who ruled Nerine and wore his skeleton like armor. She had been expecting some rebuff for her rudeness and is surprised when it doesn't come. Instead, he looks at her as if he had known to find her here.
She tilts her horned head in acceptance, the gold of her eyes observing the bones that protrude from his painted body from beneath long lashes. “I find it hard to believe that anything could beat this.” She says with a small curl to the corner of her dark mouth as she motions to the view she had been admiring. “But I’m willing to be proven wrong.”
Stepping closer to him, bold and thoughtful, the little unicorn looks up at him with that faint smile and sharp golden eyes. “I’m Bardot. And you are Reave.” It’s not a question but a statement for she is certain she is right. With the distance removed, her curiosity regarding his bones becomes stronger. Do they hurt him? Do they hurt to touch? What was it like to be so exposed all the time? She doesn’t let her gaze wander, despite the draw to inspect those interesting hieroglyphics carved against hardened plates of calcium. No, she keeps them trained on him, tarnished gold locked to bright blue.
They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
Politics has never been Reave’s forte. He understands the intricacies well enough, but he has never had the desire to submit himself to them. Given how little respect he has for the arbitrary boundaries drawn around each kingdom and territory, he would be a hypocrite to expect it from others. Indeed, there hasn’t been a time in Beqanna’s long history those invisible barriers had stopped anyone intent on destruction.
No, he has always been far better served focusing his time on more important things. If anyone wished to attack the North, he would be an idiot to imagine they would respect its boundaries. He would much rather find other ways to anticipate their arrival.
So no, he is not upset at her trespass. Wouldn’t even have considered rebuffing her. Perhaps the stodgy and old-fashioned would find it rude, but Reave is neither. Instead he meets her with that reckless grin that only widens when she offers a rejoinder, his blue eyes twinkling at the clear challenge in her voice. In a rumbling voice, he replies with easy humor. “Then you clearly have not trespassed far enough.”
He dips his head slightly when she informs him she already knows who he is before tilting it curiously. He can’t pretend surprise at her knowledge. Not when he knows he has begun to make a name for himself on a continent that is too small for anything to remain secret long. “My reputation precedes me then,” he murmurs, lips twitching. “But I hope you won’t hold it against me.”
Though she steps closer, clearly intent on this conversation, Reave does not settle. He never does. Not when his legs so often itch with a restlessness he can never quite shake. Instead he shifts, eyes flicking past her as he considers the distant cliffs. With a questioning tilt of his brow, returns his gaze to her and asks, “Would you like a tour while you tell me what truly brought you here?”
It seems that everything she had heard of Nerine’s ruler (and now the North’s King) was strikingly true. Quick-witted and intelligent with a penchant for mischief. She finds it all there in the rumbling words he voices, the twinkling in the depths of blue, the smirk that lingers on his lips. She can’t help but laugh, a wild joyful noise, at his response and whatever misgivings that might have lingered in leaving Taiga quickly disappear. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
His banter is exactly what she had been hoping for, longing for really, after being shuttered in the woods for so long. It takes her a moment to dust off the cobwebs to be able to keep up with his energy but she enjoys the challenge, one she sorely needs. “And what a reputation…” She says with a small grin, casting her golden eyes demurely as if she had heard quite the story about the bone-covered King. In truth, she only knew basics when it came to Reave, what little she had learned had come from her brother and what she had overheard amongst the flowers. Obscene had spoken about Reave as if he was some sort of delectable puzzle. It would be a lie to deny that she had been intrigued then and even more so now that the real thing stood in front of her. “Good thing I’m not much for rumors.”
It’s not lost on her, the way he seems unable to stay completely still. His gaze grazes past her shoulder and she takes the moment offered to her to study him. She wonders what the carvings in his bones mean and how they had come to be etched so deeply before shifting her gaze back to his before he can catch her looking. It is her turn to tilt her head up at him, something knowing sparking in the glint of gold. “I thought it would be you telling me why I’ve come.” She says with a subtle smile, flicking her floral raven tail casually against the back of her hocks. “Still… I accept.” She waits for him to take the lead, falling in beside him once he makes the direction clear.
There had been some lingering uncertainty when she had left Taiga regarding the choice she was making, what it might mean to come to Nerine. Yet her hesitance seems to fall further and further away as she matches his pace and allows herself to start dreaming again, just a little. She was a mare that had been raised for a purpose. She needed a kingdom. She needed her place. If her mother had found that once here, maybe she could too.
They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
Her laughter wreaths the chill air, causing Reave to grin widely in response. Though his temper could be just as swift as his humor, he has always preferred the carefree response. Life has enough dark emotions waiting to draw them down that it does not need more. He knows that precarious line far too well, despite how rarely he demonstrates it.
He chuckles at her demure avowal, though he doesn’t believe a word of it. Not with the memories that flicker so briefly through her thoughts. He finds he does not mind in the least. Instead he smirks impishly, eyes glinting behind the glow of his carved mask. “Oh, but rumors can be delightfully informative,” he replies cheekily. “I wouldn’t dismiss them so quickly.”
As she tilts her head in that vaguely coy manner and accepts his invitation, Reave eyes her openly, lips still quirked faintly at the corners. He shifts when she settles beside him, confident steps carrying him across the uneven terrain of the frozen moors as he leads the way towards a nearby hillock, proud cliffs jutting in the distance behind it.
“Is that an invitation?” he asks, features slipping into something decidedly wicked, blue gaze sharp and focused. The smile that stretches across his mouth is devilish in its charm. “Those rumors must be magnificent if you believe I’m that omniscient.” He pauses then, eyes slipping to the distant coastline before returning to her. His steps never falter. “Should I prove them right or wrong?”
He knows this land, easily maneuvering across the uneven landscape without blinking an eye. She, however, is not so familiar and so her steps are more uncertain. Glancing down often enough to make sure she isn’t walking where she shouldn’t be, her ears remain swiveled towards her guide. When she does look at him, finding that wicked gleam and impish smile, it reminds her so much of her brother that she is suddenly torn between wanting to laugh or cry.
Her own gaze shifts from him to those cliffs in the distance, letting the emotion rise and fall until she can dispel it along the chilly moors. Only then does she look back at him, the coyness returning to her smile. “Not today.” She says pleasantly. “Besides, I think my intentions are rather clear.” Giving a slight shrug as they move, there is a gleam in her own golden eyes when she looks ahead to find the path. “But the rumors are magnificent.” She murmurs and doesn’t doubt he hears it.
It’s not hard to see that Nerine does, in fact, offer many amazing views and for awhile she allows herself to be caught up in the blooming heather and what she thinks are sheep in the distance. Strange sheep that look like rocks. Something to explore further at another time. Out of nowhere, she finds his face and says with a faint smile and a tone mixed in approval and nostalgia, “I see now why my brother was fond of you.”
They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
It’s not so much that he is familiar with every dip and hollow as it is his lack of care that lends confidence to his steps. He might trip over an unseen hole just as easily as anyone else, or he might not. It is not his nature to worry about such things, so he simply does not. Undeniably foolhardy, but then, he always has been.
There is the barest moment of vulnerability in her feminine features before that saccharine smile is back on her face. He nearly laughs at her words, but manages to channel it into a wide, amused grin and glinting gaze before musing aloud, “Is that so?”
Perhaps, on the surface, her intentions are clear enough, but Reave would never believe it to be the full story. He has never been content to merely scratch at the surface of things. Now, when he senses so much more underneath, he couldn’t possibly keep himself from digging.
But he has enough patience to wait.
As they continue, the strange outline of one of Reave’s favorite places comes into view. A garden filled with unusual-looking plants rising so innocuously from the moors. Carnivorous plants. Reave is just turning to peer at her when she offers her odd sentence of approval. He doesn’t say anything immediately in response, instead continuing until they reach the outer edges of the garden before returning his attention to her with an inscrutable cant of his head.
“And why was that?” he finally asks, his low voice as inscrutable as his expression.
The garden is something that instantly brings delight, it brightens the hard edges of her golden gaze as she looks upon the wild plants. Perhaps a more naive inexperienced traveler would walk amongst them without caution, appreciating their exotic beauty and not knowing the danger that lurked amongst the closed petals. Luckily, she remembers smaller similar things, pitcher plants, from the Amazonian jungle of her youth and the tiny flytraps that could be found when wandering the forests. These…. These were of a much more magnificent scale, something similar but different. Her appreciative stare remains trained on the deadly garden, aware of his eyes on her and the question he had asked.
“You seem to have a penchant for mischief.” She finally says, glancing at him with a small smile pulling at the corner of her soft mouth. It’s not all of course. There is more to Nerine’s leader then what meets the eye, she thinks. More than his protruding bones and wicked smiles. In the few minutes she’s spent in his presence, she can see the riddle of the chestnut tobiano and finds herself rather curious to see if she could learn more than her brother ever had. A bad habit she has, always wanting to see what was truly lurking beneath ones skin. Unable to believe that they lived in a black and white exsistence when she could only see the world and its inhabitants in gray.
“Do you plan on feeding me to your flowers Reave?” She asks innocently, looking at him with a raised brow. “Or do you bring all new residents here to test their mettle?” She doesn’t wait for his response as she takes a few steps closer to one of the carnivorous plants and then glances at him over her pale yellow shoulder. There is a sweetness that catches in her nostrils, something meant to lure her even closer. It mingles with the floral scent of her own flowers that weave in between the long raven locks of her mane and a thought crosses her mind. Perhaps she had more in common with these plants than she had thought, they both seemed to be able to entice in unsuspecting travelers with the aroma of their scent. Was she the prey or the predator though? Food for thought indeed.
They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
Bardot![[Image: BQjeje-Bardot2.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/T37nJTF6/BQjeje-Bardot2.png)
