"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
RORSCHACH'S JOURNAL: Something was happening, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Change was coming, even a new comer like myself was able to see it. The air grew thicker each night, leading up to something terrible. Like a cliche horror movie; Que the suspenseful music. Then one night a thick fog rolled in, it choked the terrain, like the hands of a blood thirsty monster. Everyone fled. Like sheep herded towards a slaughter house they trudged, fearful yet unsure of what it was they actually feared. Instinct told them to flee what they did not know. And flee they did. All of them herded together by the fog that spread out over the land like a puddle of blood that seeps over cold hard concrete. They found themselves atop a mountain, looking out over what was once undoubtably their precious homeland. Pathetic.
Now it's weeks later. I hear whispers from those I pass by. In hushed tones laced with fear they speak of fairies and the magic within this place being stripped away. Magic. The thought causes a gruff one syllable laugh to claw its way from my throat. Before this, special abilities had all been make believe. Stories told to simple minded children to keep them busy and out of the adults hair. Looking back I allow my blue eyes to fall on the pair of jet black wings that grew from my shoulders. I hadn't been born with them. They had started to sprout the day I stepped foot over the boarder. It started out as a dull ache, like being punched hard in a large muscle. Quickly that uncomfortable soreness escalated to a full out shooting pain. Like being stabbed with a hot piece of metal. That night two small bloody nubs erupted from my shoulders. Imagine my surprise. I hid myself for days, stalking along the very outskirts of Beqanna like a serial killer plotting their next move. The once tiny nubs grew, alarmingly so, until I quickly realized what they were. Wings. Another thing I had previously believed to be made up. Winged horses did not exist.
Yet here I stood atop a small drumlin in the meadow. A tall oak tree grew beside me, it's thick canopy shielded me from a hard summer rain. The sudden down pour had caught me off guard. Clearly irritated, my black rimmed harks were buried within a sea of messy black dreads. Thankfully the make shift umbrella keeps my spotted carcass mostly dry, though the dampness in the air clung heavily to my skin. While prowling along the outskirts of this place, it didn't take me long to realize that things such as wings and peculiar colors weren't very peculiar at all. Thought causes my mind to once again drift to my new onyx wings. Absentmindedly I gently ruffle the feathers, fluffing them up against the rain. My deep blue eyes score the wet, grassy meadow that sprawled out before me. It was dotted sparsely with the bodies of other horses. Most had fled the openness in seek of shelter. Those who didn't stood brainlessly in the torrential down pour. Thunder rumbled in the distance. An omen to a harsher storm, perhaps? One could only hope.
and the world will look up and shout save us and i will whisper, no
Rain pelted her in icy bullets, spearing her skin and shattering into a chilling spray. Moisture lit and twinkled across her midnight-blue coat, an illusion similar to glittering twilight. Rich, orange hair flared to life down her neck like a warhorse's thick crest. But it only stood on end as a child's of her age normally did. Not a warrior at all.
Her sullen gaze was downcast, studying the slippery grasses of the meadow as she trudged miserably through it. Her mood was about as light and cheerful as the downpour. It was relentless and cruel in its determination to sink her further in dejection.
She'd had a mother once. A glorious beauty, so radiant and red, vibrant and kind. She could almost smell her still, sweet and flowery. But now she had no mother, no family. Just an orphan determined to wear down her own path in life.
So intent on her situation, she failed to note the large, winged beast taking shelter beneath the outstretched arms of a tree. Rain slammed his scent to the ground beneath him, throwing it out in a dense cloud, dissipating quickly the further it went from him. So when she was close enough to catch it in her little nose, she was too close.
The smell of him engulfed her suddenly. Her head jerked up, amber eyes bright in the stormy darkness. She held still, searching slowly, until she found him only a few paces away. Her nostrils flared warily, but she made no move to retreat, only watched him.
He looked a good deal more comfortable out of the direct path of the rain. She envied it, to be even a little more dry. With a challenge in her young gaze, she made a beeline to him, her head only halfway raised and shoulders slumped. She said nothing as she pulled herself beneath the shared canopy, facing away and staring outward, mindful to keep a breadth of distance between them. With her boldness, she hoped to make it clear she would not be easily swayed from this relief simply because he was bigger, older, smarter, and meaner than she.
10-08-2016, 06:27 PM (This post was last modified: 10-08-2016, 06:35 PM by Keifer.)
The rumors had finally reached her, her steel gray ears still ringing with the news. Nobody had told her personally, she had overheard. Her eyes glazed over with grief, her heart panged. one. two. three. Every step, every heart beat. There was nothing going to take her heart (and sorrow) from him. The only other horse she knew, prior to coming here. She sniffed.
Then the showers started, it was as if the heavens were mourning too. The aging mare shook her head. It can't be, she thought, the magic has left. Usually, she loved to follow the grapevines. Learning what was happening in other lands. The recent changes, all of them so very sudden, had quaked her over. They left her, abandoned. Her muscles twitched as she saw the dark stud. She knew this wasn't the field, but all she was going to say was he looked handsome. She stopped and watched a foal walk straight twords him.
She knew it wasn't polite to stare, but it couldn't be helped. She awaited the nightly horses response to both of their actions. There was no way he'd fall for her, but she's s concerned about everything, she ain't falling for anybody right now. Realizing what was happening, she shook her gray and white head, then turned it away. This can't happen, not now. Not ever.
The rain drummed down from the sky. Like a thousand tears from weeping angels mourning for the lost souls still roaming the earth....the earth. The thought causes my large dial to tilt downward slightly, my neck bending to bring my maw a foot or so above the sod. Blue eyes observe the mud clinging to my hooves. Many battles and harsh terrain had left them chipped and war-torn. Shifting my weight slightly I feel the muck suctioning them into place. A shallow squelching sound driving its way into my pinned ears. Eventually the rain would stop, the last dying rays of summer would dry out the land, preparing it for the harshness of winter. Thinking of it causes a rare smile to lift the corners of my lips. Many creatures hated winter. They'd cower like beaten dogs in the shelter of their homes, waiting and praying for relief from the seasons harshness. I prayed for more. Winter was mother natures way of weeding out the weak. The useless. Those not strong enough to survive. Old man winter seemed to be a firm believe in Darwinism and for that I am thankful.
A sudden boom of thunder rips me from my sadistic thoughts. I find myself plunged back into the dreary world of the meadow. The rain had escalated slightly, pounding the world of Beqanna even more so than before. A stiff gust of wind slams against my carcass. It's invisible fingers greedily raking along my fur and tousling my already messy dreads. As I'm tucking my jet black wings closer to my body, I catch movement out the corner of my eye. Turning my head to better observer whatever it was, I am faced with the scene of a darkly inked foal grumpily beelining her way towards something. In my mind time slows as I observe her. She was young and painted a deep navy blue. The color of her pelt vastly contrasted my creamy white coat with its black leopard spots. Her orange dreads formed a mohawk along the crest of her neck, spilling secrets of her young age.
It's at this point that I realize the object she is rushing towards is me. The sudden realization causes my harks to slam roughly against my poll. The filly attempts to assert herself and while I admire her braveness, I wasn't giving in. The second she settles her gait, I reach forward, my lips peeling back to display a set of yellowed teeth. Stretching my skull outward I aim to lay a bite on her rump. It wasn't an especially hard nip, but it was rough enough to get the point across. My tree. Go find your own. Luckily for me, not just one female invades my bubble for a few seconds later another minx settles herself beneath my tree. May god have mercy on them, for I will not.
In an attempt to show my displeasure with the current situation, I allow my left foreleg to curl towards my body before shoving it back down. Had the earth been dry the result would be have been an annoyed thud but because the earth was mush, a resulting splash of mud got my point across. "Occupied." The single world claws its way out of my throat in a voice that is low and gravelly. They would leave. Whether through free-will or not. They would leave.
and the world will look up and shout save us and i will whisper, no
OOC: Don't mind his grumpiness. It just takes him a while to warm up.
She sensed him move, but in her young naivety she had not realized it was something she needed to pay attention to. So she yelped in surprise as his teeth met her rump and leapt away. Her skin was pricked painfully like an assault of bumble stingers. The pain was truly not that bad, just a warning and not an attack, but the foreignness of it was what injured her most. Her honey eyes looked up at him, wide and wounded.
Her mother had been such a gentle creature and never once needed to pinch at her. It had been the first time anyone had done anything to purposefully cause her pain. She wanted to sniffle and weep, and her face flushed with embarrassment at that childish desire. She was on her own, she could not be a child anymore. Her face hardened and she glared at him, angry tears threatening to fall and betray her, and make her look weak. Is that the way it is, then?
She felt another presence join them almost hesitantly, and she glanced at the mare. The creature was painted with such beautiful splashes, she lost what she had intended to do and stared. She was like some radiant treasure to be cherished and protected, and the filly wasn't quite sure why she felt that way about a stranger. The woman's heart shined from her eyes, tinted with sorrow and just a faint flicker of hope.
That awful brute was clearly oblivious to this as he stamped his foot like a child, and splashed Raeg'n with slick muck. Her eyes flashed to him again as she subconsciously sidled in front of the mare like a short, little shield. The challenge was back in her defiant glare.
"Occupied," he snapped. She barked a laugh, not a touch of mirth in it, but at least a little terror at what might come out next. Huh! With a name like that, it is no wonder you are so.. she floundered for a word that fit. Cruel, she finally settled on, spitting it out like it tasted as foul as his attitude. She couldn't help but sort of like it though, she wished she could make people leave her be with a single look too. Strong and confident. Even if she ended bitten by his fierceness. Well, she wanted to be able to do that too, if she had to.
She tried not to let it show that her heart was racing. Foolish girl. What would make her choose to agitate him further? Was her life so terrible she didn't care if he lashed out again, or was she just stupid and much too bold? Well, if she was going to go down, she certainly wouldn't go without making an impact. If you're going to get in trouble anyway, might as well make sure it was worth it.
Raeg'n faced him. She stood to her fullest child's height, puffing out her chest and swelling her belly to make herself feel as big as he was. Her ears folded flat and she stalked the couple steps to him. She could learn to be tough too, to stand like him and bite like him. One day she might even be as big as him. Maybe.. he was awfully large. Her teeth bared and she aimed for his shoulder, intending to at least break the skin if she were strong enough.
But her movements were obvious in her inexperience, completely unskilled in such things except what she'd learned from him only moments before with his attack on her little rump.
Keifer whipped her head around when she hearg the poor child yelp. "The child hasn't done anything wrong. all she wants is a small part of dryer land. Can't you at least shelter her that much?" her words were apparently drowned out by the thundering rain, pelting down on the damsel. She felt compassion to the youngster, never truly knowing her own mother and being whisked away to here.
When the foal came th the painted steel minx, she looked down nurturingly at the young child. Keifer was shocked at how young she appeared, her orange mane telling her age. The youth on her face, the featheryness of her tail.
When the girl tried to look bigger and was staring at the stallion, all war torn and scarred, it took all Keifer had not to let out a laugh of amusement. She smiled, a small chuckle left her throat. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was simply curious." her attention turned to the little one, "Darling, what is your name?" she said sweetly. Her voice sounded like a Robin's trill, and as sweet as honeysuckle. She never thought so, but if what others thought were true..maybe getting this one to warm up, become friends, wouldn't be so hard after all.
I watch them with narrowed blue eyes as the single word falls from my lips. They bounce from one femme to the next, pausing only long enough to emphasize my point. One was the loneliest number they say and I liked it that way. Since as long as I could remember, even as a colt, the life of a loner was the life for me. I was not a privileged child. My parents, not even my Mother coddled me. Born into the life a solider, we were never shown affection. From the moments my eyes open, my first emotional experience with another being had been rejection. Not deemed fit enough to live the life of an heir my mother forced me away and into the care of another mare. This foster dam was one of many in charge of caring for and tempering the foals categorized as soldiers. They were ruthless, instilling in us the realization that the world was cruel and to survive, you had be even more sadistic. It's as these thoughts are creeping though my brain that I watch the young fillies reaction to the nip.
I watched as her eyes welled and became bleary with tears, though not a drop spilled over the rim of her long eye lashes. Weak. I think disgustedly to my self. Had this filly been born into my birth herd she would have not been fit for heir nor solider life. A pity really. Those who fell into neither category became workers, or worse, killed upon birth. Perhaps they were mercy killings. A way to spare the child a life time of neglect and suffering.
Mere seconds after I deem the girl weak, something changes. Her face morphs from scared and wounded to angry. The tears in her eyes held new meaning and from my vantage point I could see a spark alight within her. The darkly inked babe then moves in front of the mare as if she were to protect her from the monster who stood before them. It causes the left corner of my maw to lift ever so slightly. Maybe I had been too quick to judge her. Maybe she really did have a bit of solider in her after all. Her mocking laugh rings through my pinned ears, causing them to dig themselves deep into my mane. She speaks, causing my blue eyes to narrow even more. My black pointed maw opens to reply, but before I have a chance to the painted minx begins to speak. "Look around, Deary. There's plenty of other places." My voice is gruff as it leaves my mouth as I jerk my head to the side to indicate towards another tree which stood over 200 yards away. Beneath its tall canopy a group of 4 or 5 other horses crowded together. "Plenty of room over there." I add, my long dreaded black tail swishing with annoyance. Thunder booms loudly over head. It was as if the storm grew angrier as my temper flared.
Movement from the child catches my attention and I watch as she stalks forward, her mouth falling open and her ears pinning back against her poll. It was obvious what she had planned to do. I fought back the urge to roll my eyes at her. Her courage and bravery were admirable, but her actions were foolish. As she reaches forward, so do I. My maw parts, lips peeling back yet again. This time I try to grab her crest. I do so just as her small teeth find their mark. Her bite was hardly painful. Besides being a war-torn behemoth used to fighting for the right to live, the muscles of the fillies jaws wouldn't be very developed at her age. Her mouth plucks at the skin on my shoulder as I try to catch her crest in my mouth. I hoped to use it to force the child out from under the tree and into the torrential down pour. Next would be the mare. She'd either use her common sense and leave with her, or she would suffer the same fate.
and the world will look up and shout save us and i will whisper, no
10-13-2016, 09:49 PM (This post was last modified: 10-14-2016, 08:18 PM by Keifer.)
The mare had expected half as much. His response and answer, the saltiness of his words. All of his actions.
She swished her tail and glared in frustration. "Can't you tell when a mare just might like a stallion. Look," she said pointedly, her eyes ablaze "I just want the protection of a stallion. My parent's abandoned me, my brother went insane and killed a pregnant mare, one that was delivering at that, and now, you're shlupping me off like simpleton?"
The sky flashed with lightning, reflecting her rage. she walked closer to him, jutting her face into his, pinning her ears back closer to her mane. "I'm a shoulder too, boy."
One thing he didn't know was she had a rough childhood, defending herself and fighting to survive. Her parents abandoned her once she was weaned, nowhere near fit enough to survive. Thankfully, Chezter had been in his right mind, tenderly taking care of the both of them. Then he lost it and abandoned her, too. She had struggled to find him, only to come here when he died. As her memory ended, she started crying tears, hot, boiling tears. Tears heated by rage. "You know nothing about appearances, soilder." she said. Sure, she had A tiny frame, but it was all pure muscle. She had lined, rippling under her skin. She was stronger than most thought, even though she had minor scars, huge when she was smaller.
10-21-2016, 10:46 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2016, 10:49 PM by Raeg'n.)
Raeg'n
Raeg'n
She was going to do it! She'd learned to bite like him, and she'd show him. But just as she was about to sink her teeth into him, she was yanked back and nearly thrown. With a pained grunt, she landed in slick mud not far away, but clear of the shelter of the tree. Rain drowned out the mare's words as she seemed to snap at the man.
Raeg'n growled and pulled herself up, navy coat painted in dark muck. She only caught the mare's last word, soldier, as she stalked back to the tree. Was she calling him a soldier? He was vicious enough to be, for sure. Cold-hearted. Tough.
Soldier.. Yeah, that's what she'd be one day. Strong and battle-worthy. Her gaze met him with a fresh challenge, and she pulled herself back to where she was before. She wouldn't make the move this time, learning to be wary of his actions. If she were to bite again, she'd have to watch more carefully for a counter-attack. She wasn't prepared for that, so she stood and tried to settle her nerves.
I'm staying, she said firmly. Indeed, she was staying. And more than that; if he moved, she'd move. She would follow him until she learned all she could. She'd be a soldier too, and he'd teach her whether he wished to or not.
She stood, freshly drenched in rain, with stony determination in her eyes. It would take more than a bite and a yank to shake her now, and she'd soak in the knowledge if he tried again.
10-25-2016, 02:27 PM (This post was last modified: 10-25-2016, 02:29 PM by Keifer.)
Keifer gulped as she realized what she had said. She slowly backed away, eyeing him. "I'm sorry. Normally, I-I don't act this way. I have no idea what got into me."" She truly had no idea. She had been a soilder, sure. But she had also been kind and gentle. She looked over her shoulder, keeping an eye on him.
"Dearie, what is your name? I don't believe you told me." she told the now soaked foal. She returned her attention to the stud, "I don't seem to remember you telling me yours, either." she glared at him. Then she shruged. "May as well introduce myself, I'm Keifer. My brother was Chezter."
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