"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
It’s the kind of rainy day that makes you all wet and miserable, except Romek was doubly miserable. Since his ‘adventure’ (VERY loose term of the word adventure here cos that was probs the most worst thing he’s ever gone through except for childbirth, except he hasn’t actually gone through childbirth hat all but he has imagine it enough times for him to experience it? I don’t know, let’s go with that, that’s a good thing to say) IN THE CAVES OF THE TUNDRA he hasn’t really been feeling all too perky lately, even with breeding season the perkiest (haha if you get what I mean) of all the seasons. I mean, seeing your dead mum you might as well have killed yourself and had loads of angsty feelings around or whatever isn’t exactly the greatest thing in the world, is it?
Anyway Romek’s in the forest, not cos it speaks to him or anything, just because that’s where he’s ended up after leaving the noth. He doesn’t really know what he’s looking for, but he is just moping around really miserably like a semi soggy mop stored I nacupboard with nothing else really going on so he’s pretty sad. Trees are pretty. Everything’s pretty – OH YEAH and rainy too but mostly pretty and wet. Like how he likes his lady. Oh yes.
He licks the wetness off the grass cos he’s thirsty and the pond is all the way over there and if he wanted to move, he’d do it already, goddamn,
Wolves in our own skin, we're savages. We act so primitive.
I actually kind of love the rain. Pouring down, streaming from the sky, giant raindrops making a splashy impact against my skin, the cool touch of it trailing down my body, the weight of my hair against my face, my neck. Still, I could see why some might find it less than pleasant, sodden down to the skin and dripping and unable to escape it without taking shelter in a cave or under the precarious protection of trees that could easily act as lightning rods if one is especially unlucky.
Ah, but today it’s just the rain, no thunder crashing and rolling across the land, no lightning splitting the sky. And the forest is safe enough to wander in the rain, hm? It’s lovely really, watching the rhythm of the rainfall striking ground saturated enough that water is just beginning to pool.
Still, lovely though the weather might be, there’s only so much entertainment one can get from a bit of water falling from thick grey clouds, giving into the irresistible force of gravity and careening down to embrace the thirsty earth. Far more entertaining, or at least I’m hoping, is an equally thirsty stallion I catch sight of up ahead, licking the water off of the grass at his feet rather than walking the few steps it would take to close the distance between himself and a nearby pond.
I sidle up next to the stranger, taking an extra moment to admire the soft glow of spots trailing down his spine. And when I am beside him, I lower my head to the ground and join him, lapping water off the grass. “Tastes better when it’s freshly fallen,” I say with a sparkle in my gold eyes and just a hint of a grin playing at the corners of my lips.
Another lick, two, three, before I pause and glance over at him again. “I’m Dara. Who’re you, then?”
08-01-2016, 03:15 PM (This post was last modified: 08-01-2016, 03:15 PM by Romek.)
ROMEK
Of course, laying down next to a pond and drinking from the grass is sure to get you some funny looks, and he can confirm that this is indeed true. He notices the pretty roan mare before she approaches him – she looks weirdly familiar, although he can’t quite place it. Also, he is too busy licking the grass to really pay much attention.
”It does indeed,” he says to the mare, who has joined him in his feasting of the dewdrops. And he can’t blame her. They do taste better when they’re fresh, and not stagnating in some frog-filled pool of dirt and leaves.
”I’m Romek.” he says. He forgets how awful he is at conversation, sometimes. He hopes Dara did not approach him for a good session of speaking. He decides he at least must try – he is in the common lands, and he ought to try to foster good relations. ”So do you come here to watch horses lick the floor?”
Wolves in our own skin, we're savages. We act so primitive.
I settle down onto the grass next to him, at a reasonably comfortable distance given that we’re strangers. Not close enough to reach out and touch, anyhow, but enough that it doesn’t take effort to make conversation. And then I carry on lapping water off the grass, because what the hell, right? Why not? There’s a strange appeal to it, fresh and bright and with the added tactile sensation of grass on my tongue. I’ll take it.
His name sounds vaguely familiar, but frankly it’s been a while since my family’s been around, and names of old friends and acquaintances mean less without faces to attach them to. So I don’t think much of it, and mostly just shrug it off. Maybe someone Grandma knew back in the day, or a maybe it’s just close. Who knows.
Anyhow, there are much more interesting things at hand, so to speak. “Well, mostly I felt like a bit of a wander, a little walk in the rain. But hey, I’ll take what I can get. And company’s generally a nice thing. Mind, I’ve got lots of family at home in Echo Trails, but it’s nice to see new faces now and again too. What about you, where are you from, Romek?”
Romek. Hmm. I think I have heard that name before...
The distance she places between them is appreciated. The spotted stallion has never really been big on physical contact, especially with strangers, but it seemed rare to find someone who actually understood that invisible boundary.
Her name is not quite so familiar. But that’s not really surprising, is it? He and Nocturnal had never really been close in that way – their relationship had been one of ruler and subject, mostly. Romek was somewhat aware that he might have siblings of Noct’s somewhere, but finding them had never really been a big priority of his. Not out of malice, of course, rather he worried that he would not be welcome. He would’ve been an outsider. Again. And that was a whole bunch of feelings that he hadn’t wanted to drag up.
” The weather always has a way of ruining everything.” he says with a slight smile, looking towards the rainless sky.
”I live in the Tundra.” he says. It still felt weird to say. ”But I was born in the Deserts, originally. Quite a while ago.” There would be no more born in the Deserts, he realises. He wondered what his ram-horned grandfather would have made of it all, may the gods rest his soul. ”Were you familiar with it?”
Wolves in our own skin, we're savages. We act so primitive.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I glance up at the sky, smiling. Let my eyes drift closed and just feel the rain still dripping from the trees, gentle droplets hitting my face sporadically instead of the lovely blend of rhythm and random chaos that comes with active rainfall. “It doesn’t seem ruined to me.” We got a pleasant shower, and now the land smells rich and green and vibrant
“The Tundra? I haven’t been there yet. That’s the cold one in the north, right? With the ice wall?” Grams didn’t bother showing me that kingdom, since she didn’t have any happy memories to share. Just an unpleasant encounter with one of the Brothers while she was pregnant with...hmm, Auntie Ryss, maybe? I have a lot of aunts and uncles. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track of the stories.
Oh, but the Deserts! “Yeah! Grandma took me there last year, to show me one of our family’s happy places. She lived there with Grandma Noct a long time ago, back when Grandma Noct was queen. Just for a little while, before the big Valley war. But it was so nice to see one of the places where they were together and happy, even if...well, even if there was a lot of less happy stuff going on too.”
A whole war, Grandma Noct bringing the world to its knees trying to bring Uncle Gendry home. And, of course, to avenge those whose blood the Valley had shed. But she would have done it just for Uncle Gendry. Or at least that was why Grandma Quark fought. Why her mom and her brother died. To find their lost firebrand and bring him home safe.
Even if it didn’t turn out that way, in the end.
“I was very sad to hear what happened,” I add, glancing over at Romek. “I only got to see the Deserts the once, but it was lovely. I know I’d be very sad if something like that ever happened to my birthplace. I’m sorry. And if you were close to Vanquish...I’m sorry for your loss. Grandma Quark was an old friend of his, and she said he was a good man and a good king.”
I’m lucky, in that I’ve never really lost anyone close to me. Well. No. I have. My papa was stolen away for a very long time. But no one close to me has died, and I can’t imagine how much it would hurt if any of them did. Still, my heart aches for Romek, for the pain he must be feeling.
It’s probably a good thing I settled down out of touching range, because the only way I know to comfort someone when they’re sad is cuddling and hugging and stroking their hair and murmuring soft things against their skin, crooning gentle sounds of comfort and love. And we aren’t exactly close enough for any of that. Clearly I spend far more time around my family than around strangers.
