"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 never ceased to amaze him how things could change so quickly. One day everything is normal and then suddenly, BAM! The chaos that change brought with it would quickly fill the air and seek out it's unsuspecting 'victims'. It was then that those 'victims' would begin to allow the wheels in their head to turn and start creating the ways for them to be able to change their lives.
It was on this day that the 'chaos' found Leiland and instilled within him the sudden desire to leave the only home he had ever known. His journey started early that morning as the Amazonian Prince made his way out of the jungle and headed north. As he moved across Beqanna he occasionally made small pit stops to explore different areas, like the field and the meadow until moving on.
Leiland didn't stop moving until he came upon the gates borders. With curious eyes he looked out across the emerald green fields full of wildflowers and and small butterflies. The sky was bright, lit up by the suns soft and golden light. The silver boy had never seen such a peaceful place before in his so far short life and looking out across it all made him feel warm and full of calm and relaxed emotions.
And then he realized what the 'chaos' had led him to finding. His home. This was it. For the jungle would never be his true home. Just the place he was born. Men were not allowed to stay unless they pledged themselves to a woman and early on he had known that would not be the life he was alright with leading. He needed more. He needed adventure. He needed to explore.
Deep inside he was a free spirit, and it was clawing at the walls begging to be set free. Coming to the Gates was the first step he had taken to tearing down those walls that kept him from wandering. Being here now, was the most excitement he had felt in his entire life. Slowly stepping forward, he crossed the borders stepping inside the kingdoms walls. Quietly he headed towards the center of the kingdom, moving gracefully through the tall grasses as he calmly took in all of the sights.
It was all so different from where he had been born in raised. Here it was light and airy, covered in a golden glow and a light breeze blew through the trees carrying what almost seemed like the soft sounds of cheery music with it. It wasn't until he had reached a particularly sunny spot underneath the trees canopy that he reached down to rub his cheek against his knee. Finally he was ready to stand and wait for someone to find him for he was ready to offer himself to their lovely home.
07-29-2015, 07:45 PM (This post was last modified: 09-05-2015, 12:23 PM by R A P S C A L L I O N.)
I'M NOT SOME BOY THAT YOU CAN SWAY
Rapscallion doesn't find the sky to illuminate the darkness in him, he doesn't pay attention to the butterflies, the light airy demeanor of all those who live alongside him. Rapscallion is observant but lately he's been lost in selfishness, maybe even guilt. He doesn't recall his birth home, he remembers his mother taking him all across Beqanna and schooling him. His childhood was learning about political links, fighting, and to always brush off words.
He was taught to be melancholy at best.
Rapscallion was not so self-absorbed that he failed to notice the silver male approach the border, he watched his eyes light up with excitement from meters away. The buckskin never knew what that felt like, to him it seemed almost a manic phase. The most excited he's been was when he thought the ex-Tundra king would actually fight for his position; he was mistaken. He had recently visited the Amazons and although he knew men did not live there, this silver male still lingered of there. There was a lack of a true winter coat and a sheen to his coat that being in constant sun does to bleach the hairs so to speak. Rapscallion approaches slowly, his head down to lazily snag a few pieces of sparse grass, while his pale green eyes were constantly peeled on the newcomer. Hell, he was a newcomer himself - unnoticed and unbothered. Soon, the tall buckskin makes he way closer to him and his ears stand at full attention, he blows his matted forelock to the side, "Rapscallion. Behold, the glorious Gates," he says in a show-host tone except lacking the excitement. Rapscallion was not trying to discredit his newfound place of residence he was simply playing on the boy's obvious excitement. If he couldn't be excited, he would at least help play to someone else's emotions.
I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music do you?
He tries his best to forget life before the Gates. Life before the Gates was full of uncertainties and fears. He had went hungry more often than not and the monsters never seemed to stray too far from his mind. Often times he thought he heard them in the shadows, with their strange clicks and chirps and purrs but he couldn’t be sure. Garbage, despite his good intentions, could do nothing for the child. He had to milk, first off, and by the time Mast had been born he was pathetically old, living on time he’d borrowed from somewhere. His mother (or other father, depending on how one looked at it) had been the monsters meal before Masts coat had even dried. Even now he could recall the sounds of bones snapping, and the way torn and rendered flesh sounded when it was being consumed.
But all of that was behind him now, far behind and hidden in the deepest caverns of his mind. Because he had survived, he refused to take anything for granted or to leave any stone unturned. He would repay his debts to those who had saved him from the uncertainty, and he would start by helping to build the kingdom. He would serve this place until his dying breaths passed over his lips.
Somewhere, sometime, winter had slipped into the Gates almost unnoticed. It seemed like only yesterday the leaves were vibrant shades of golds and oranges, and now they lay dead on the forest floor. Soon the snow would fall, blanketing them all. For now though, it was simply cold, and the Gray King shivered in spite of himself. He was of desert heritage, and as such didn’t grow quite as much coat as others did. Movement he thought, movement would help offset the chill. So he strode off through the trees, his gray coat matching the indecisive sky and his eyes sweeping the border. Given their recent upswing in activity, he liked to place himself there in the event they were visited. Today, it seemed, he would not be disappointed. A new figure caught his eye, a young boy all legs and wide-eyes. Approaching him was Rapscallion, the buckskin who had volunteered himself to their kingdom. He caught the tail end of Rapscallions welcome, and he snorted slightly in amusement. Obviously, the buckskin wasn’t the most jovial of their members but he certainly got an A for effort. “I believe what he meant to say was “hello” Mast said with a smile, dipping his head towards Rapscallion to show he meant no harm with his quip. “Welcome to the Gates. I’m Mast. What can we do for you?” and he waited on the boy, as even tempered as one king could be.
