"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
For the first time in a long time, Wayra’s world was unsteady. She had grown used to an unending winter, long cold days that turned into long cold nights. The sun above her and the grass below her did nothing to persuade her that the season had changed. It was winter, always, in the little kingdom she had created for herself.
Yet she had left that kingdom, and now she was in someone else's castle. It was still very cold, and time still moved in its slow, unending way, but somehow things were different. There were other people, speaking and living, like little patches of wild flame. Wayra watched them curiously, and wondered what would happen if she got too close. Would they burn out? Would she catch fire?
The little blue girl turned her face away, and looked out over the ocean. She liked the vast body of water. She liked the way the waves shimmered and danced. She had drowned once, a long, long time ago, but she had forgive the element its sin, and had since come to appreciate it. When a casual, slow moving grace, Wayra stepped out onto the water, and it became glassy under her hoof. It was a small, tiny gift in an otherwise unfeeling curse. She could walk on water, and that made her smile, ever so slightly. She liked the idea that she could walk out into the waves and never be seen again, if she ever so chose.
Today at least, Wayra didn’t stray far. She felt like something had tied her here, though she was not family or kin to any of the Cove’s herd. She was like a boat buoyed into the bay. She bobbed and danced with the waves, but couldn’t stray far. She both belonged, and was chained, a strange mix of rightness and fate.
And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love
Give, take. Give, take. Take, take, take...
Take it all, take everything, give yourself something. Give the Cove things. That is Kirin's philosophy on life. It proved a philosophy none too shabby too, the Cove was prospering.
For a spell he watches the blue woman, their best gift to date. Ask and you shall receive, he had asked, they had delivered- they had been rewarded with time. Time taken from them, time prolonged here on this plane of existence to do their work. Time. That was all they needed to persevere.
His silver eyes dance along the graceful specimen, one that finds a path of her own out on the water. A trail of glassy ice to keep her afloat, a path out over the vastness of the ocean waters. It was a curious little gift, Kirin thought so at least, thus is why he coveted the girl so. Thus is why he coveted all the special ones in his flock, each one making use of their powers to benefit his home. The thought lifted his spirits, brought a wicked smile to his pale lips before he leapt into the air. A twist and spiral of wings and pastel hues to rival any sunrise or sunset.
Kirin is swift to greet her, twirling about on the air currents that buffeted the waters. "Aren't we looking radiant today?" The compliment hanging in the air on a fog, his own wings keeping him above the choppy depths. "Is their room for two?" His head cocks to the side, almost playfully, his eyes raking trails over her hide. "I'll keep you warm.." He teased, eyes flashing at the joke because he wasn't sure if anything could keep Wayra warm. He would like to give it a try though, Khaos knows he did, and with the season inching on them he could scarcely part from her icy presence. The more appropriate statement would have been a question, Who would keep him warm?
She heard the rustle of wings before she heard him. The sound was faint, and blended in with the rhythmic wash of waves against the shore, but Wayra had become tuned to the sound of feathers. She cast her dark eyes skyward and was rewarded with the sight of lavender. Something in Wayra’s expression seemed to brighten a little though her features didn’t move. It could have been a gleam in her eye, or simply his own brightness reflected back in the glassy surface of her face. But whatever the reason, Wayra’s world seemed a little more colorful when he was in her view. At his compliment, Wayra’s expression did change, a flickering of amusement that started first in her eyes and crept down to her lips.
“It’s the ocean, it has a way of smoothing out all the jagged edges.” That much was true. Just look at any pebble on the shore, it would be round and soft. Wayra didn’t know if waves worked similarly on the soul, but she stood by the water anyways, just watching the tide come in and out.
In one way, at least, there was a similarly in their gifts. They both were able to travel where horses weren’t designed to go. Kirin on a wing, and Wayra on ice. She immediately complied with his request to land. Out from her hooves swept a plane of ice, rough so as no to be slippery, and big enough for two, but just big enough. A real smile tugged at her lips then, and her dark features became almost impish as she looked away to hide her little joke. She could have easily, without any effort at all, made the platform much bigger, as it was now, he was going to have to stand very close to her. Wayra adopted a look that was a little too glassy, a little too innocent. She wasn’t sure where his wings were going to go, as big as they were.
“Of course.” She said simply, glancing down at the small space she had created for him. The blue girl felt a thrill, deep in her breast at her own daring. Beneath the brand burned into her skin, Wayra felt her heart beat faster. It hurt, and her breath became a little more shallow, but she ignored it. For once she relished the throb, for it meant she was alive, even if she was cold, and in this moment, it was clear that alive was a good thing to be.
And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love
He beat his wings, a steady rhythm of wind beneath them to hold him aloft. The sunlight passing in the same beats to and fro as he blotted it out completely and it took over in return.
Perhaps it were the ice playing tricks on his mind but as he unshly looked down at her he could of swore her eyes lit up. Just there, just a moment and she all at once seemed less weighed down than he had so far witnessed. In all likely hood it could have very well been that, the frozen waters looking like crystal pathways against the sunlight.
Slowly though his guesses ceased, her delight fading from a could be to a was, a smile dancing down her face to her velveteen lips. “Let us not give praise to the ocean for your beauty, it is unfair.” He laughs, clearly her modesty amusing him because he himself had very little of it.
Her next movements bring him far greater pleasure, a small length of ice rippling out to create a float for two. Only two. His eyes light sending a flash against their silver in a blink of an eye, he smiles his own smile though it is cool and gratified.
“In need of warming then,” He decides, bringing himself to hover over the block of frozen matter, hooves touching the surface to first steady himself. The ragged surface gives just enough grip for him to not summersault into the salted waters, but his wings...He stands with them outstretched, rising in an arch high above him, there is simply not enough room for him to fold them at his side. With a look as if he is about to ask a question his lips simply part and then clasp together once again, in a smirk.
He makes no game of pressing against her, instead folding into her skin with his own in one sweeping movement. The wings he held so tirelessly above them folded downward ever so slowly as his eyes find hers. “Something tells me this is what you wanted.” The words leaving in clouds of fog, hanging warm and damp between them before dissipating into the atmosphere once again.
Finally his wings brush her skin, ever so softly bending feather against fur, encasing them in an avian snowglobe so to speak. “And this…” He runs his right down her flank and thigh, trying his best to steel the shiver that ached to burst from his chest. But it was worth it, it was so worth it he thought as he inched his muzzle past the hairs-width of space to breathe her air.
