"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
Mazikeen freezes as she listens to the list of suggestions that come tumbling out of the colt’s mouth - she’s not even annoyed she’s just amazed. How did he come up with all those ideas! Some of the fire leeches from her gaze, replaced by amazement. She doesn’t even move or flinch when he gets a little closer - possibly checking to see whether there was one such magic mark on her. Not being one that minded her space being invaded, Maze gets over her shock quickly and even lifted her downy wings and turned/hopped dutifully around so he could check. She is fairly sure she would have noticed a magical markings but perhaps it only showed up when she was not herself.
That option seemed to have resulted in no luck, however. She was still a bird. She gave an experimental jump to try out one of the other while the colt lay down - and she appreciated that he was now on her level. Mazikeen was just wondering whether she could get him to sneeze by pulling on one of the hairs near his nose when he spoke again with another burst of inspiration.
She wondered what it was like to be so creative, to have so many ideas for just one problem.
She’s not standing very far from him when she nods. “Alright let’s try that one.” She is undaunted by the previous lack of success. Those orange eyes close and she thinks about herself, her real self. With her dark hooves and her small black-tipped tail, and the muzzle she would bump against her mother to get her attention. In something of flash, she feels it happen - and emits a small shout of surprise as she grows suddenly into a foal, flopping ungracefully over and, should he not think to move fast enough, partially right on top of her new friend.
Now she laughs, loud and just as ungraceful as her actions a moment ago but full of real joy all the same. “Maybe you’re not so crazy after all.” The now-filly states as she shifts away but she doesn’t bother to stand up properly. She just moves only far enough that there is a bit of space between them and stays flopped over. She feels a little tired now - changing shape was exhausting but she still twists her head a little comically to be able to look at the colt.
