Dá has become somewhat of a wanderer. It cannot be taken for granted that you will find her in her official home - the Jungle - for she spends most of her time exploring. She is perpetually filthy, as if she has not seen her mother for months at a time (although it seldom goes for more than a day). Sometimes she thinks mama should be more worried about where she is, but its a passing thought for now, she is too busy enjoying herself.
She has not seen a waterfall yet, and the name of the land alone is enough for her to seek it out. She has no idea where it is, but that has never stopped her before. It takes her a couple of days before she finally stumbles across it, and when she does, her stomach is aching with hunger and she feels like she could sleep for months.
But this is it: the Falls.
There are flowers she has never seen before. Large, round and bright yellow, they're dotted around the lower meadows. She does not hesitate to enter and examine these in closer detail with her usual enthusiasm (no matter how dull and bored she looks on the outside, her eyes are lit up with delight).
With a satisfied sigh, the small dark filly settles herself down beside one of the strange flowers to see what kind of insect life enjoys visiting these. In the mean time, she observes the cascading water and the lilting, gay flight of a butterfly.
 | | dig up the bones but leave the soul alone | He is crouched among the reeds, feeling the warmth of the waterfall slide over his long, childish legs. A yearling now, Drengr is taller but still a thin reed of a child. The wings that sit on his back haven't grown too much, they're not quite capable of total flight yet. He's tried and failed enough times to simply give up. With no other winged horses here, and the stunted magic of a neutral kingdom, he's vaguely aware they may never grow.
He's heard the waterfall is magic, that it has healing properties. He's heard a dip in it will cure any ill - so he tries. He stares at the water as it comes to his knees and wonders how deep he'll have to go. How long will he have to stay? Is his ailment in his heart, or his head? He considers the pain that is both dull and incessant, throbbing in his heart. It's a strange melancholy he recognizes is probably foreign and of his own doing. It started the minute his mother walked away and left him in the field without a goodbye.
My name means warrior, act like it!
With a quick movement he submerges completely in the cool water, his entire being going under. He forgets to hold his breath, he forgets to steel himself from the onslaught of water in his nose...or perhaps he just doesn't know. Whatever the case he rises from the water a sputtering mess, feeling the water threaten his lungs. He coughs and sputters and stumbles out of the cold water, all legs and childish ways. It's only then he spots the filly nestled comfortably near the waterfall.
|
| | drengr | | homeless winged child of baltimore and terror |
wolves in our own skin, we're savages.
She has been watching him for quite a while, since he first revealed himself from within the reeds. She watches him with only half an eye until he practically leaps in and tries to drown himself (or so it appears to Dá anyway). She sits up, distracted from the flower and the insects, scanning the surface of the shifting, foaming water.
He breaks for air shortly after though, and the small filly watches slightly bemused as he clambers out, all choking air and dripping water. He has spotted her, now, and the wild girl does not hesitate in approaching him. It's not every day you see someone almost drowning, after all.
"Why did you do that?" she asks him, as she gets within talking distance. She's curious more than anything, about this little sad-faced boy and his peculiar behaviour.
DÁ
| | dig up the bones but leave the soul alone | The filly does not hesitate to approach him, much to the disaster of his heart. He's never met another horse his own age, much less a girl - one with dainty legs and wide, pretty eyes. She comes at him as he's still shaking the water and the embarrassment from his coat. The water drips down, making a puddle under him on the rock he now stands on.
"The water has healing powers," he says simply, as if it explains everything. He knows she'll probably press more, so he decides to change the subject. Anything. Anything but the epic disaster that was his dip. He didn't feel any differently, either. Just disappointed.
"I'm Drengr, what's your name? Do you live here?" he's hoping to talk over any further questions she has about his little swim - at least now.
|
| | drengr | | homeless winged child of baltimore and terror |
wolves in our own skin, we're savages.
She has never been called pretty before; but then, she has never been in a situation where it has been relevant. The wild girl tends to stick to the edges of society; observing, always observing, but dipping in only when the fancy strikes her.
She does not laugh at him, instead she watches him with steady, interested eyes. She has no desire to humiliate him, there is no purpose other than for her own meagre satisfaction, and besides, that would be cruel. He is embarrassed, she can tell, but she's not sure why he ought to be. However does one learn if not through making mistakes? She glances at the waterfalls as he explains its powers. It looks like regular water to her, but looks can be deceiving. "Healing powers, eh?" she comments, more to herself than to him.
He introduces himself as Drengr, and the yellow-eyed girl is quick to respond. "I am Dá. I don't live here, I'm just exploring. Aren't the globeflowers lovely?" she comments, gesturing with her nose to the bright yellow flowers around them. She admires the flowers briefly; the beauty of nature, a riot of colour and life.
"What did you need to heal, anyway?" she asks him, her tone one of constructed casuality. Of course, she is burning with curiosity to know, but she will not let that show for he might think she just wants to laugh at him. "Perhaps I can help."
How, she is not sure. But the wind just feels right today, perhaps right enough for miracles.
DÁ
|
