"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
I can still hear you saying -
you would never break the chain
Why she strays here she’s not sure - the reason behind the means does not become clear to her even as she stands, alone, at the border of the quietly indisposed little kingdom. The Falls is simply a bookend when compared to the others surrounding it. The inhabitants know this, all of Beqanna supplements this idea. Yet still they remain, untouched in their complacency yet forgotten in their neutrality. A curious little slice of heaven, if you will. Dacia contemplates on this for a moment, wondering how her life would be if perhaps she had not been born into a kingdom of servitude, duty, close familial bonds. Would she have suffered the same outcome?
Her mind’s inner-workings float undisturbed for some time, circling above her like carrion eyeing a nearly-dead meal. They will not settle, not now at least, not until she can find the justice that she does not have the means to enact. In time. All will come together in time. So they float, and she ponders, and then her lips part and she calls out faintly to anyone who might be within hearing distance. Quiet does not mean empty. She assumes the drapings of a rather unimpressive creature: Caramel coat with a faintly darker dorsal stripe, matched only with the color of her mane and tail and adding a little pop of faded stripes about her legs. On her forehead she boasts a white marking, a star altered to render the shape of a heart. How … cute.
Not her normal idea of fancy, but in this place she wants to seem as lull as possible, as uninteresting and girlish as she can. Her camouflage is meant to give the wrong impression, an impression of fragility, kindness, weakness. Her eyes melt from their green shade and fixate on a honey golden, completing her change and thus creating a “new” version of herself. A new Dacia for every occasion. She chuckles inwardly to think that many will know her name, but very few will know her as a single horse. To some she is black as night, to others, blue, and now she is dun. So many, many faces, each one as important as the last.
The quiet of this little green kingdom has a way of seeping into the bones of the residents – even an afternoon beside the waterfall leaves one with an oddly unshakeable serenity. It’s the magic, I’ve surmised, when there is no physical ailment to mend, the water finds a way to comfort the mind. It was the right place for me to come when I was in need of healing, and it has been the right place for me to remain.
The border of the kingdom has become more defined, beaten by a patrol that no longer consist of me alone. I still walk it every now and again, finding comfort in the familiarity. When I find a mare standing at the border, I’m not as surprised as I might have been a year ago; more and more horses have been finding their way to our kingdom of their own accord.
I stop before the dun mare, instinctively reaching to rake the soil with my feline claws, only to remember that they’ve gone away. Replaced by the immortality of a king, I had first assumed when I found myself unable to shift. But Ygritte has struggled to blossom her greenery in my presence, and Djinni had been unable to sprout herself wings to soar away. Something more than immortality has been gifted to me by the spirit of the kingdom, but I’ve not yet been able to put the perfect name to it.
There is nothing that seems too magical about the small red mare, and while I am always friendly, there is perhaps a bit more pleasure at knowing that I’m unlikely to be ruining her sense of self. “Hello there,” I say, nodding my head and speaking in my gentle tenor voice, “Welcome to the Falls. What brings you to our borders?”
BETTER BEWARE, I GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
Ygritte found it interesting how there were so many equines finding themselves in the throngs of the waterfalls. The bay and salmon mare was of fair features but that was just sheer luck of how the genetics fell into place when she was inside Nativity's womb. (Texas was rather proud of the fruit of his loins, after all.) The mare found herself spending more and more walks along the borders of her home in response to the growing numbers of her home. There were never too many eyes to keep watch, especially after the end of the war and disbursement of soldiers and diplomats alike. It so happen to be on this particular day that there was an unfamiliar scent tangled on the refreshing spring breeze. Lobes flick as nostrils expand and the mare pivots slightly to seek the source of animal that was in possession of the strange pheromones.
The underbrush and side flora give away the trail easily to the russet female. Each leaf tracing the path, bent blades of grass whispering harshly against her skin. Her movements are hushed by the vivid emerald moss that crept up from the earth to place itself beneath each nail. A small smirk now curling a single edge of her lips when she sees that bearer of the Chamber scent. A mare, not much younger than Ygritte, stood alone. She is the color of a sunbaked clay bank, some darker striping on her appendages. The flower crowned mare notes the other as she approaches, she knows her words will reach the other before her form does as Ygritte has come up from behind dun equine. "Hello there. Passing through or perhaps staying a while?" Tones are low but delicate like that of a finely made burgundy silk running over naked skin. Amber pools watch the other as she closes the space between the them, holding the sandy colored form in the glassy pools. Smolder and char lingers on the younger mare's coat in reminisce of the war that happened some time ago. Ygritte wondered to herself how long it would take for the burnt atmosphere to clear. The plant manipulator could possibly lender her services as such if they did not already have a magician, but she was sure they were already in possession of one. A single ear flicks towards the other as she awaits a reply, the other trained in the opposite direction.
Ygritte.
((gah! poopy post sowwz. wanted to get something up to her!))
I can still hear you saying -
you would never break the chain
So polite, so courteous. So unassuming. Of course, he has nothing to fear - Dacia is only the master of hide-and-seek, nothing more, nothing less. His suppression trait (unknown to her) only helps her cause. She cannot change color, nor would she seek to. For them, she is only the little dun mare with a discernable star marking. For her, that is all she needs to be. “Thank you.” She replies, dipping her head gently in return before a tepid smile works its way across her lips. “I thought … “ She begins, but her head turns behind her to view the cornering of another equine - female, with salmon points to enhance her already pleasurable features. In any other situation, a foreign horse might feel the pressure of being trapped between two unknowns, but Dacia only chuckles kind-heartedly and dips her head to the third party member.
“I suppose that depends.” She quips, shifting slightly so that the three will be in a circular formation. She notices how the mare looks across her, watches her eyes as they form thoughts Dacia cannot read. If she had been able to hear them, she would have happily informed the unnamed mare that the Chamber was well and thriving, perfectly normal in fact, due to the help of a magician restoring just about the entire kingdom from its fiery ruin. But this conversation does not come to pass. Instead, Dacia makes the connection from the way the other’s eyes cautiously harden. Ah, yes, a Chamberling stood in their midst.
“I’m Dacia, a resident of the Chamber.” She hums, mouth forming a meek grin. She hopes the truth will quell their guarded curiosity. “I was born there, but lately, well, I find that I don’t … fit in, If you catch my drift.” She explains, a broken laugh escaping from her mouth. Her eyes dart to the earth, a hint of shame shading her cheeks. “I’m not very gifted, so I’m really of no use to them.” She murmurs, gaze rising to lock with the spotted males. “I’m sure the two of you have great power, so you understand. But I feel as if I belong somewhere else … somewhere less, agressive.” She finishes, sighing deeply before closing her lips into a hard line.
04-04-2016, 11:28 AM (This post was last modified: 04-04-2016, 11:29 AM by Kreios.)
Kreios
wildcat of the falls
I turn at the sounds of footsteps, and the smile that appears on my face at the sight of the salmon-haired mare is smaller than the one which had greeted the dun. It is no please pleased though, and betrays an intimacy that is confirmed when I reach forward to press my pale muzzle against her neck
Ygritte is sweet and kind and soft spoken - the quintessential woman. But I suspect that she is also possessed of her father’s iron spine and her mother’s indomitable spirit(though I’d only ever heard tales of Nativity and never had the good fortune to meet her). I have never seen Ygritte truly angry, but even I – who have only ever seen her best side – knows better than to anger her. I keep her safe, instead; I protect her and the kingdom and do my best to make it so that Ygritte will never have to become hard.
(The fact that she could sprout a forest from the contests of my stomach and tear me apart from the inside has nothing at all to do with it – I’ve only ever seen her make flowers blossom)
I move away after a moment, but remain near enough that I can still feel the heat from her body between us on the chilly spring day.
I do not recognize the scent of the Chamber on the dun mare the way that Ygritte does. I’ve never met a member of the kingdom, nor have I travelled to their lands. They were restless when I was growing up, and no friend of either the Dale or the Deserts. Now that she names it though, I recognize it as the kingdom from which Lucrezia hailed (though it has been years since my lovely friend had called the Chamber home).
I listen curiously. She says that she is not gifted, and that the Chamber has little use for her. What use do they have for more gifted horses, I wonder? Was the war not enough to satisfy their desire? I’d felt the eerie shiver of magic run down my spine during the battle even from a hundred miles away; that was more than enough for me. It would seem not, if they are as aggressive as quiet Dacia suggests.
I cannot blame her for wanting to leave, I decide; I have no prejudice against the Chamber, but am all too familiar with the way that living in a place you do not belong crate grate at oneself.
“Well, the Falls is certainly less aggressive than the Chamber,” I say with a small chuckle. You’re welcome to stay here, even if just while you decide where you do fit.” I make no mention of needing things from her; she has just said that she doesn’t have what the Chamber needs. Even if she had nothing to offer the kingdom, we would still offer her a home. “Might I ask why not the Gates or the Desert? Their reputation is definitely less aggressive even than ours.”
Ygritte
