"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
Much to his surprise the reaction he was waiting for – and was anticipating – did never come. She just looked at him, like he was looking at her, unmoving and silent. Then she nods and with the simple words that tell him to lead the way she agrees to join his home. It takes Brynmor by surprise and the graying man cannot help it but to blink a few times, before the corners of his lips are pulled up in an enthusiastic an genuine smile. ”Off to the North then.”
Although he doesn’t rush – simply because he doesn’t want too, it wasn’t like the Tundra would disappear if they didn’t reach the borders quickly – his step is eager and quick. Brynmor had been bound to a calculating and slow walk for most of his life, needing the time to make sure he wouldn’t bump into anything. Now he was finally able to move without hesitation and he enjoyed it the fullest. It had almost been euphoric when he had trotted and even galloped the first time without tripping and struggling. Right now Brynmor almost feels just as good, content with the fact that Oona had agreed to follow him home. He hoped she would feel at home in the icy lands, as he sure did enjoy the company of the other sex. Next to that he wanted the Tundra to live, and although it were brothers he had been originally looking for, he was sure that more mares would contribute to the Tundra too. Just in another way.
The smile upon his lips grows as the ice wall comes into view. ”That wall is the Tundra’s southern border. Right now the only ice you’ll find – except for the snow on the mountain tops – comes from this magical wall. It’s rare for the Tundra to be green and life can be harsh, as the lands are covered with snow most of the year. It’s something you’ll have to get used to, but it has its own charm.” Once he’s done talking Brynmor glances to the side, still grinning slightly, curious to see if she how she took that all in. Next to that he’s curious to see if she will show some kind of emotion now, where it had lacked prior. Not that it mattered and he was the last one who would judge her, but she had just managed to strike his curiosity.
The mare of charcoal and rose follows her new companion. He moves with enthusiasm and Oona can feel the excitement saturate her despite the tight lipped face she held.
It is not that she does not have emotions. Everyone has them but she woman holds those vulnerabilities close. The hazel pools drifting over the different landmarks as she moves near his flank. Her eyes shifting away to study the graying stag.
Some where in her there is a pique of curiosity for the male. She finds herself liking his energy, his smile. He is genuine and true and not like most of those she has encountered in her life. He does not nip nor strike at her. He just talks and talks and talks.
He fills the space between them with words and sing-song tales. He speaks fluidly where as the rose gray's is stone. Oona finds herself enjoying the tying of syllables he spurns. The vocals weaving in and out and around her, making those peaks atop her skull wiggle and waltz.
When he slows and she closes the gap between their bodies, he looks to her and the Warmblood can not help but feel the curl of her lips betraying the usually stoic features. Brynmor is controlling the very edges of her lips but Oona does not fight it. There was not sense to fight anymore for she has been invited into a home. She is safe and sound.
"It is rather charming." The tones are low and hushed as she speaks only to him. Like the wash of cool drink of water on a humid, hot day is such a way she speaks to the granite male. "Thank you for inviting me to your home, Brynmor."
She moves her tiara closer to his and bumps him gently with her poll, playfully...breaking free from the iron cast that seemed to encase her.
There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'
He is enlightened to finally spot some kind of emotion showing on her face and Brynmor cannot help but to smile wider himself when he does. Not that things would be any different if she hadn’t, but he was just glad that she opened up like this to him. After all, it was much easier to connect with others if you were able to offer them a smile.
He nods as she replies, still grinning somewhat, and steps forward again. ”Our home. The Tundra is your home now too” he answers, reaching out slowly to gently bump her neck with his muzzle in return. Thus far the graying warrior had found it quite easy to connect with women, feeling at ease around them even though his childhood had lacked the presence of a mother.
”Come, time to go home.” With that said he sets course for the gate. Since they both lacked a pair of wings they were forced to go by foot, and that meant they had to find the one opening in the wall that would give them entrance to the icy – or currently not so icy – kingdom. ”This gate is the only way to enter the Tundra, except for those who can fly of course. All other borders are cliffs. Welcome to the north.”
They pass through the gate, and in front of them the green lands reach as far as the eye can see. That is all due to the summer, the only period when the snow doesn’t lay as white sparkling blanket across the lands. Brynmor turns his head slightly to look at the rose-gray mare, eyeing her silently as they step further into the kingdom. Home. They were home now. And he would gladly show her a little around. Not that there was that much to see, but the idea was nice, right?
Her thoughts cause her to become detached as they walk together. His words caressing the little hairs that poked from her lobes. She is not sure as to why he is so keen to her. The rose gray is quiet and stern. She can see his features swept by a smile and a glint in his eyes.
He is genuine. He is kind.
Oona is unsure how to be like him. She does not have a rough and tumble pass. She is a normal mare. Normal parents. Normal home. Normal life...but she is distant. Always so distant from others. She calculates. She watches. She anticipates but the move to the Tundra had been a bit of spontaneity. Dark eyes watch Bryn's and she studies the curl on his lips, the way his jaw flexes and moves with his words, the sound of his voice filling the chilled space between them.
"Home." The woman repeats the word as she looks around them before looking back to Brynmor. The chilliness suited her, wrapping her in a frozen embrace. They seem to have moved up and over the land more rapidly than Oona had expected. The gates now falling behind them. "Tell me Brynmor. How did you come about residing her?" Her tones a low, hushed. The velvet over cold steel as she draws herself closer to the stallion, curiosity in her dark eyes.
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There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'
Just like her he had been offered a home in the Tundra. And just like her he hadn’t been the most logical one to approach. After all, what good could a blind stallion do? But Hurricane had invited him nonetheless and it was the same when it came to Oona. He wouldn’t say she was strange or odd, but her quiet and stern way do make her stand out. Yet Brynmor knows best that underneath the surface could be a whole other horse. And he was curious to get to know that Oona that was hidden underneath there.
The smile upon is lips widens as she repeats him, and she makes it sound like the realisations settles in. Home, they were home. It is when they continue their way deeper into the Tundra’s territory that Oona asks him a question, asking about how he had joined the icy kingdom. He glances sidewards, keeping silent for a moment, before looking in the distance again. ”My story isn’t the prettiest one.” His voice displays his mixed feelings and he roughly shakes his head before offering her a smile. ”But it isn’t a secret.
He doesn’t start right away, silently debating how he should start his story. He wanted to express his gratitude towards Hurricane and how the Tundra took an incompetent looking male in, but without throwing a shadow over his past and intentions. ”Hurricane, our king, found me in the field. Back then I was blind, I was born blind, but in some miraculous way my sight was restored by a genie. But even though I couldn’t see, Hurricane offered me a place among the brothers in the brotherhood. He gave me a home, a purpose, where others wouldn’t have me and even kicked me out.” That is how Brynmor shares his story with her, or at least, a part of the story. He would answer any other questions, if she would have them, but it wasn’t quite the time to share the whole story with anybody but Hurricane himself.
