"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
Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you
The possibilities are as numerous as the snow-filled clouds overhead, each full of promise but difficult to tease away from the masses.
So he shrugs and scratches at his left hind leg with his clawed forelimb for a moment before shaking out and resettling his weight. Once, he had plans: to set the world ablaze. These days, he remains within the confines of Hyaline, and his plans do as well, circling around the pale now-mare beside him.
“I’ve not been south in a while,” he muses as he comes closer and rests his chin along her spine, content and at ease in her presence. What he feels is not quite trust because he knows that she will kill him, but he knows that it will not be today, and that is enough.
Enough for positivity, enough to quell the magic.
Enough to make him happy.
It is a sensation both uncomfortable and pleasant, floating like a bright balloon in a chest filled with knives. It is precarious, and he is torn between shredding it with his own claws and allowing it to linger.
“Or we could try the Field,” he suggests, and a distracting thought occurs to him with a dark smile. “Perhaps we could find a newcomer and show them what Beqanna has to offer?”
current appearance:glowing perlino stallion with lightning and iridescent navy blue scarring.
forelimbs are those of a quetzalcoatlus, feathered in white with a red V shape in the feathers on the left
Her bright gaze follows him as he circles her - despite the words that have passed between them, there is too much of a warrior’s instinct to not keep an eye on someone who is a very real threat. But, since Mazikeen enjoys looking at Gale and his presence - watching him is hardly a chore. A small smile appears as he rests his chin along her spine, the contact sending a small, pleasant chill through her as her ears twitch as he muses aloud where they might go.
“I’ve never been to the Field.” She replies back thoughtfully. It had never occurred to her to actively recruit before she became leader - word got out about the shifter pack on its own and new members had a tendency to either walk in or just start living in the lake, the way Sabal had. And after she became alpha (and then queen) there were always other things to worry about.
Now, though, the idea of visiting the Field with Gale for the purpose of finding someone to make miserable is an entertaining one. Not to recruit, not unless whoever they find proves good enough sport to keep around so he always has a source of power whenever they find themselves a little too satisfied with each other. Which, she selfishly hopes, is often. So she gives her agreement with a dark grin that matches his, ill-intentions weaving through her words. “So I am overdue for doing my part to welcome newcomers to Beqanna.”
Mazikeen does not fight the instinct to follow his lead this time, though it still annoys her that this seems to be her default. She waits simply to see if he will teleport them there or if they will take to the skies and fly - now that the storm has lessened, it would be a simple but chilly flight out of the mountains.
