"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
She is used to being on her own.
She is shy, truly, and shies away from the groups of various equines that are scattered, meeting, throughout this grassy plain. It has always been hard for her to be around others; she is introverted, soft spoken, and finds herself as others' doormats more often than not. She has grown in character and in strength since she was young, but she still finds herself in sticky situations, torn between wanting to be outspoken and to be pushed about; it is easier for her to obey then to defy, and she knows this will cause her problems but she knows better than to resist a stubborn stallion.
So she grazes, spotted body partially hidden by a tree, the budding leaves sending sunlight-given dapples onto her already colored hide. She is at peace and alone, just as she prefers to be. She wouldn't say she wasn't lonely - often at night she craves the companionship or the love of another, mind crying out for someone to save her from this self-induced isolation. Yet she remains too shy to strike up a conversation, her ears flicking about to search for any noise that may suggest she move from her little grove.
She remembers herself as a child, one full of spirit and confidence about things she didn't know. As she grew, that confidence slipped into insecurities, influencing her actions and her voice; she prefers not to speak, or if she must, to speak very little and very softly to avoid the embarrassment she knows may befall her at any time. She isn't clumsy, exactly, but nervous - it is in her nature to be wary, to be shy, for she is still unsure of what is friend, and what is foe.
there was something in the water, now that something's in me
i can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips
Texas might qualify as a ‘stubborn stallion’, but he’s never been inclined to use force when manipulation has always yielded far better results. He’s handsome enough to be excused violating social norms and clever enough to talk himself out of trouble, and most definitely old enough to know better than both of those. He’s also entirely disinclined to bother with knowing better and the addition of another crown has done nothing to temper his already gargantuan ego.
“Hey there,” he says to the first mare he sees, a spotted roan that seems to be trying to hide. The bay stallion does not press too close, but he is toeing the line and clearly aware of it if the grin on his face is any sign. Yet despite his nearness and the appreciative eye that flits across her red and white body, nothing about the lanky horse is at all threatening. His posture his casual – lazy even – and after his initial glance even his brown gaze begins to wander across the Field.
“What brings you to the Field?” He asks, counting the number of horses in the meadow while doing his best to determine if any of them are recruiters from other kingdoms, or if the entire assembled lot are in search of homes. There are more horses here than he is accustomed to, but perhaps he has never been here this time of year before. After a moment, he turns back to the roan mare and adds in his drawling voice: “I’m Texas, by the way. From the Falls.”
Shyness was something that Naga struggles with on the daily. Even though she is becoming much more confident and stepping out of her shell but she still gets awkward at times. All these trips to the field are coming in handy for that very reason, being pretty much forced to be a good spokesperson pretty much. She tries.
She is beyond happy the warmer weather in the northern lands has finally returned, the snow that once covered the land was now mostly melted away. Flowers and such have begun to pain the countryside with bright color. It was pretty, but of course Naga was partial to the mysterious vine-covered jungle. A panther could really prowl there.
Green eyes scan the hills as usual, she realizes now this is just going to become a very regular activity for as long as she serves her kingdom. Which she assumes is for the rest of her days. She sees small groups, medium, large, singles. Same things, different faces.
What have we here?
She smiles, as her gaze falls on a willowy spotted mare and an obviously VERY aged yet fit bay stallion hidden within the trees. She is disappointed she had not found her first, she always seems to be the second. But, she decides it doesn’t hurt to just try. She lets her sturdy pony-like legs carry her down the slope and down to the sun dappled couple.
The elder stallion, called Texas, introduces himself to the mare, asking her what her intentions are here. So, as usual, Naga falls beside the stallion of whom kept a respectful distance from the woman within the trees. Her voice is soft and deep as usual, she is welcoming. Her relaxed yet diplomatic stance shows she’s no threat. She dips her head to both politely.
Good morning, my name is Naga. Naga of the Amazons. I love your spots. It is a pleasure to meet you, and you too Texas.
She smiles and dips her head again. She waits, she knows what it means to lie within the trees...she too used to keep herself shielded by trees. She was too shy and timid to come out and socialize, she would rather spend her time within the canopies of green, looking down on the world from where no one can see her. Oh the joys of being a panther shifter.
She finds herself mentally preparing for an encounter, ears twitching all about to ensure she cannot be surprised by a stranger; she has learned from her adolescence to be wary and watchful, and it has embedded itself into her already shy nature. She hears the hooves before she sees the source and raises her head, ears pricked as she gazes upon the newcomer. He is well built and regal, she notices that right away, but there is the way he moves that strikes her as odd. He moves smoothly enough, she notes, but without the carefree grace of a stag her own age.
He seems kind enough, his words soft and his posture nonthreatening enough to make her relax a little, to make her ears lose some of their rigidity. "I am Elendil." Her voice is soft, soft enough to be carried off onto a breeze and never heard again - luckily enough, the wind is quite gentle with her today. She is thankful. "I am here because here I find peace, and I find solitude." She is honest, though, and dips her head in respect to this regal stallion. She often finds herself quite unworthy of attention, and this is no exception for her.
He does, however, seem slightly preoccupied, but she doesn't take offence. Even in conversations she tends to slip into the background: she is content to listen and be unseen, for it gives her so much more information than sweet words one may speak. She is always listening, always watching, and the black mare that approaches is not missed by her. It is unusual for her to be popular in any way, so she shifts back towards the trees that had hidden her so well moments before. It wasn't a feeling of claustrophobia, no, but she found herself already desiring the uninterrupted space she had been inside up until a few moments ago. She is kind, though, and appreciates the compliment; she loved her coat and the unique patterning that colored her hide, the appearance of it creating a boost of confidence that helped her through times like this - especially if it was noticed.
"Thank you, Naga. It is truly a pleasure to meet you both." She means it sincerely, truly. Shy though she is, she appreciates those who take the time to approach her. It makes her feel a little less invisible, and sometimes, that's all she wants.
there was something in the water, now that something's in me
i can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips
When the spotted mare replies, it is so quietly that Texas is forced to turn away from his lackadaisical ponderance of the Field and focus on her entirely. With his dark ears pointed toward her, he listens to her reply and is unable to keep a smile from his grizzled mouth. “You’ve must not have been here long, if you think you’ve found solitude,” he says with a low laugh, gesturing out at the milling horses in the wider field. “You’re just hidden well; you’ll be swarmed once they see you.” Texas doesn’t mean that strictly as flattery, though he would not be bothered if she interprets it as such.
The kingdoms and herds of Beqanna are always looking for new members, and a horse alone in the Field will rarely stay alone for long.
He recognizes the smell of the Amazons before he sees the mare, and when he turns his dark head he is almost surprised to see that it is not Prague coming toward them, but rather a black mare that he’s never seen before. They’ve stopped wearing their tattoos, but she’s unmistakably a resident of the Jungle. A shame, he thinks as he takes her in, she’s too pretty to rot away in the Jungle. “Hello Naga.” He replies, offering a nod that is perfectly polite and nothing more.
“How long were you planning on staying in the Field?” he asks Elendil, turning his brown-eyed gaze back to the red and white mare. He doesn’t rush to offer her another alternative, though he imagines that she would like the quiet Falls with their lack of bustle and frantic energy that is the lifeblood of so many of the kingdoms. He can also offer a kingdom that is not poised for war, unlike Naga, but while Elendil does nto sound or seem like the bloodthirsty type, he’d rather not make assumptions and protect her from chaos she might desire.
She's embarrassed, slightly, at her misconceptions of finding peace in thsi field; of course it would make logical sense that she would be found (case, in point, the two equines currently talking to her), but she hoped her delusion of a peaceful setting would keep it as such. She knows that is illogical, and she is all about logic and stars and sky, for the world is infinitely interesting to her. She feels, at times, like she has a galaxy throughout her mind, unique and unfathomable.
His flattery is surprising but it boosts her confidence all the same, and she finds herself standing a slight bit taller, straighter. She cannot imagine herself getting approached by many, but she can hear wisdom in this stag's voice and she chooses to trust it. She is still young, and he seems to be decades more wise than she, so why wouldn't she trust him? She has not been hurt and is still inclined to trust, and blindly, so it is in her nature to trust someone such as he.
"I would stay until I had to leave." She doesn't know when that would've been, but it's true all the same. She tries to raise her voice, to make herself easier to hear, but it doesn't work quite as planned - she is still as soft-spoken as the warm breeze that swirls through their manes. "I hadn't planned on leaving, nor had I planned on staying for too long. I've not a home here, so I figured this would be as good a home as any other." She is not an explorer or a wanderer, she is a homebody, one built to nourish and care, to mother and to be a friend. She craves a home, always, but she is content so long as she is sheltered and without too much commotion. She hadn't given a departure too much thought until the stallion brought it up.
there was something in the water, now that something's in me
i can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips
She seems soothed by the flattery and Texas smiles; the young are so easily assuaged. While he is not immune to flattery - is anyone? - it has been decades since the compliment of a stranger have been able to burrow through his shell.
The bay stallion glances toward Naga, but the black mare seems inclined to reamin silent, even as Elendil continues to speak. TExas doubts that anyone would make her leave the Field (though there are pushy herd stallions that certainly might try), but the place does not make a good permanent home. There are too many transients, too much unpredictability. The Meadow is a better place to stay, but given her reply that she lacks a home, Texas doubts that it would suit her.
“Would you like a home?” He asks, his head titled curiously and his eyes dark but friendly. “The Falls is a quiet kingdom, but if that does not deter you, I could show you around. You be welcome to stay for as long as you like.” Texas rather enjoys the lack of hurry that permeates his kingdom, and while it can grow quiet from time to time, he intends to do his best to stabilize the kingdom. Elendil would probably be able to assist with that simply with her presence, but Texas has no inclination to pressure her, and waits quietly for a response.
She waits for the black mare to put in her two cents but she seems inclined to keep quiet, so she refocuses on the stallion, a gentle smile tugging at her lips upon seeing his own kind one. She rarely feels out-of-place anymore, for her lack of a leg is something that is simply a part of her, but she feels almost shy under Texas's unwavering gaze. She sees no signs of danger in his eyes, in his stature, and feels relief, for a stallion of his size could easily overpower her despite the fact he has not threatened her in any way before; she has felt more relieved the more he talks, and does not feel belittled as she has in some of the encounters of her youth.
The Falls sounds like a perfect fit for the quiet mare and she is readily inclined to accept his invitation, especially if he was to show her around; if he was simply to be a guide back without showing her around she would be more inclined to disagree, but a quiet kingdom is what she needs, for she is rusty in her diplomacy and would need a way to slowly acclimate herself to different terrain. "I would be honored to join you in your kingdom. I am one who prefers a quieter life, for I find I cannot keep up with a faster paced one. And I accept your offer to show my around, if you please, for I think trying to find my way around might prove difficult." His previous flattery had created a bit of confidence and that is what she now displayed, a shy smile curling up her lips as she met his eyes. "Thank you, Texas."
