"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
11-10-2015, 01:43 AM (This post was last modified: 11-10-2015, 02:02 AM by anastasia.)
He offers her play and that is all the shadow-girl had ever wanted. A playmate, of sorts. The kind who would let her stay hidden in the shadows and who would not mind her ravaging the wildlife of the area. Even better if they would stomach the gross rabbit just because she asked him to. So Anastasia feels good about going to his home, feels good about going to wherever the Valley was with all its shadows.
When he opens up the portal, she slinks silently toward it, sticking her head in and looking around in the pure darkness before shrugging and walking all the way through. It felt different from the ones that she created, perhaps more of him than her, but it was ultimately just the shadows, which were familiar enough. She is sure she will get used to the particular brand and feel of the shadows he himself creates.
On the other side, the portal spits them out just in front of the Valley’s wall of fire, and she hisses again, backing into a portal that drops her several yards back. She was not fond of fire. She did not like the way that it danced and burned the shadows away, throwing its own along the walls in mockery. She did not like the heat of it and the aggressive smell when it ate through the wood. One day, she had made her way toward the Chamber’s tree, watching as it crackled and popped in the air.
She had hated it instantly.
So she is not thrilled to know this is home, and she turns her eyes to her playmate, not accusing him, but certainly demanding some sort of answer. “Rho-nan,” her thick voice begins, and she nods toward the wall. She pauses for a second before jerking her head slower, the motion more exaggerated in case he did not pick up on the subtleness of it at first. “Rho-nan,” she whines a little now, one hoof striking at the ground impatiently. “Is this home?” Her voice makes it clear that she hopes that it is not.
like the moon, we borrow our light {I am nothing but a shadow in the night}
ooc: i have no idea if the flame wall is still here or not... :| if it's not, just let me know and i will edit.
Ah, the wall. He’d gotten used to it, though he still didn’t like it. Honestly, he was just biding his time till Gallows and Fennick got rid of the damn thing. There were too many in the Valley that disliked the wall, and while he didn’t know either of the two monarchs well, he trusted that they wanted what was best for the kingdom. And if their kingdom hated the wall, then in the end, so did they.
What does surprise him is the weird, unexpected moment in which he nearly reaches down to comfort her. He doesn’t, and the feeling dissipates almost as quickly as it had come, and he shakes his head slightly. What the hell? Worst idea that’s ever crossed his mind. She’s not that kind of girl, and he’s not that kind of guy. And in truth, it’s not some sort of love that bubbles in his chest, but she is made of shadows, and he can feel her in such an extraordinary way that her hatred becomes his own all too quickly.
He has to take a moment to push it away, to steady himself. “I hate it too,” he says simply. He’s never been willing to swear himself to the kingdom, and probably never will be. Usually, he coats himself in armor and just walks on through, singing the shadows some, but with no real damage done. But lately, he’s been practicing, and he’s finally figured out how to portal around the damn thing. Though it’s so hard, he rarely does it.
“I don’t think it’ll be here much longer. But we can go elsewhere, if you want.” A herdland, perhaps. There might be one free under the Valley. If not, he could take one. He can’t give her up, not over a damn fire wall and a kingdom he doesn’t love the way he loves the shadows. He’d go to any other kingdom, honestly, though the Valley still seemed to hold most of the shadows.
“But I can get us in, and inside, there’s plenty of space that the fire doesn’t touch.” He has to work for this one, has to pull the portal from shadows farther away, breaks a sweat trying to keep the fire from casting the darkness away. But he can portal under it, because once they get into the dirt, it’s much easier to keep the shadows together, to keep the portal together. He looks at her expectantly, though one eye stays on the portal, because he cannot break his concentration entirely here. It’s her choice, in the end. He’d follow her. He’d rather surround himself with other shadow creatures like him than serve a kingdom.
rhonan.
i think it is...i'm not entirely sure myself. we'll go with it
Anastasia is so simple that she is complicated. She is someone who does not have all of the decorations and armor of someone raised amongst throngs of other souls; she had never learned the social graces, and she has never learned how to lie. In this, her bluntness, her honesty, her feral instincts, she is complex. She is finely tuned to her emotions, and she is not bothered when they jump suddenly—she just enjoys the ride. She does not doubt herself or second guess what she is going to say or feel shame.
She just is.
So she just looks at him, turning back to the fire, and then to him again. “What else-where could Ana-stasia want?” If there was an elsewhere worth mentioning, wouldn’t he have mentioned it already? In her mind, they would have already been there was it worthy. Her lip curls a little in disgust as she considers the giant, blazing wall, but she shrugs finally, moving up to his side again. “Fine. Wall fine.” She would make do for now. She could always leave if she decided too later. Loyalty was beyond her.
Nudging his shoulder, the touch inky darkness, she smiles, sharp teeth glinting in delight at the silkiness of his shadows. It was the same and yet different from her. His were shallow and she got the feeling that if she leaned a little too far in, she would reach a bottom. She would reach an end. Different and yet the same. Nothing bothering to be polite and wait, Anastasia walked yet again through a portal of his creation, appearing on the other side of the wall. Turning back to it, she spit on the ground.
“Home,” she says to no one in particular, although he is certainly there by now.
“This is Ana-stastia’s home.” She looks over. “And Rho-nan’s.”
A pause, a mockery of a smile, “Ana-stasia and Rho-nan’s home.”
like the moon, we borrow our light {I am nothing but a shadow in the night}
At least she had an excuse for her lack of social graces. Rhonan had no excuse. He’d grown with mother and brother, and a sister often not all that far off either. He’s slipped off to the meadow many times, finding various types of horses for company. Somehow, social graces simply escaped him. At least the nuances of it all. He understood the general way a conversation goes, and he could probably survive a diplomatic meeting without making a complete and total ass of himself and the Valley. But no one would ever appoint him to lead an alliance discussion or any such nonsense either.
In the end, he knew what he was good at. He could fight. He’d been fighting most of his life. Dying and destroying and fighting to try and avoid the inevitable. Now, he could fight with shadows, fight with the help of the darkness that consumed him. He might be considered complex, somewhere in the murky depths of his head. Deep down in the place where his many different lives were, in the place that kept seeing Noah out of the corner of his eye. So many things had happened to the boy. So many terrors that would never truly go away.
He just never thought about it. He never let himself be anymore more than the boy shrouded in black. A stallion now, perhaps, but still so much a boy. Something young and stupid about him, and that may never go away, years be damned. Or maybe, eventually, he’d learn how to grow up.
He likes Ana though, because there are no games here. Even Rhynn has her games, enjoying the moments when she is stronger than he is, enjoying the fact she can shape him (and she has shaped him). But Anastasia is simply herself, and sees Rhonan for the shadows that make him up now. “Good question,” he says, with something of a laugh in his voice. Where else could he go? Who else wanted dark monsters like Rhonan?
He follows her through the portal, her determination putting a strange little smile on his face. It fades quickly as spit comes flying toward his feet as he exits the portal, but not because he minds the spit. Rather, he just doesn’t smile for long. His muscles don’t know how, and couldn’t hold the look even if he wanted to. He nods at her assertion, and then tosses his head toward the kingdom more.
“Do you want to see the rest of it?” though he doesn’t really wait for an answer. Instead, he starts walking, heading to the heart of the kingdom, to the place where it dips. In the center of that dip, there are not as many shadows, but on the edges, where the land rises sharply to either side, it’s always dark. There are also shadows to linger in, and it’s one of his favorite places to be. So hopefully, she will like it as well.
She prefers him this way though. Were he to be glossy and smooth and charming, it would be off-putting. She preferred that he was rough around the edges and quiet and deliberate in his words and his actions. It was soothing to be around someone who was like her in that regard; someone who did not play games and who did not try to deceive. She was fascinated by the conversations around her and the way that the souls of Beqanna seemed to ebb and flow—but she would be exhausted to spend too much time with them. No, she much preferred the simplistic complexity of him.
She could at least understand that.
They walk through the portal together, and she breathes easier when they are on the other side, feeling the tightness in her chest loosen when she is no longer so close to the flames. She could make this a home if it was Rhonan’s home, but that did not mean she would love it. In truth, Anastasia was not sure that she would ever be capable of loving the way these souls seemed to love. It was foreign to her.
He asks if she wanted to see the rest of the kingdom, and she answers by following along him. Words were not exactly her strong suit, and she would not bother with them if she didn’t have to. Instead, she turned her sharp yellow eyes to the land around them, noting the dips and crevices in the land. In some small part of her mind, she was studying it, memorizing the way that it folded and unfolded. It would be useful to understand how to hunt there. Finally, she just nods. “Okay.”
This land would be okay. The home would be okay.
In his own way, he would be okay to her too.
like the moon, we borrow our light {I am nothing but a shadow in the night}
