"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
Winter stretched around Tavani, making the world seem quieter than it really was. The sky above her was blue and clear, granting a small reprieve from more falling snow. The afternoon sun made the ground around her glitter in a beautiful way. She liked it best when the snow was fresh, before hoofprints crisscrossed it, but even the wayward and haphazard patterns made from those who passed through looked almost idyllic today. Spring was still a ways off but there wasn’t so strong of a bite to the wind today, making it pleasant.
Although sure that she would be more comfortable in a warmer climate, Tavani never could resist the draw of the Beqanna lands that showcased such wildly different seasons. The land and vegetation changed so wildly, sometimes just from one day to the next, and even after several years of living here she still finds it fascinating.
The pupils of her eyes were vivid blue today, reflecting the sky that stretched above, and she felt almost giddy. There was a lightness to her heart and it made her want to be around others, to find someone to talk to, and pretend as though she is someone who lives with this bright feeling inside of her often. Perhaps she could be, one day.
There does not seem to be anyone with the vicinity, however, so she wanders at a slow, relaxed pace - her senses alert for anyone that she might happen across.
Mojave sometimes forgets to keep watch, especially when there’s something more interesting to keep his attention, like the low-growing and still green sedges they’d found earlier in the afternoon. Busy eating, he doesn’t notice the approaching creature over the sound of his own chewing.
Xii, one black-tipped ear on her oblivious son, has been watching the smiling stranger make her way across the snowy meadow. She’s been smiling back, her expression open and interested, and had long ago stopped her own grazing.
“Hello!” She says cheerfully, when the other mare has come close enough to talk without Xii needing to raise her voice. Nevertheless, the oblivious Mojave jerks at the sound, lifting his dark head and turning to see who his mother is greeting. It’s not someone he knows, so he quickly finishes chewing the last bite he’d taken, knowing his mother will expect him to introduce himself.
Aware that several embarrassingly long blades of grass are still hanging from his mouth, Xii introduces the both of them - “I’m Xii, and my son Mojave.” It is easy to see the resemblance between them: both in deep brown coats that would lighten in spring, with bellies as pale as the snow on the ground. They’re both winged (hers feathered, his with feather-like leaves), and the slightly taller Mojave’s nearly-grown antlers have the same striping that covers the rest of his coat.
Swallowing the last bit of the grass that had been dangling from his face, the young stallion adds: “Hey.”
The slight breeze that follows her everywhere toys with her dark mane as she watches the winged mare approach, feeling absolute delight and pausing her wandering in order to face her. She’s gotten more used to seeing wings on horses of all shapes and sizes and colours since arriving here so none of the unkind, traitorous thoughts she had been raised with flick through her mind (or, at least, they are so quiet that they are easy to ignore). Tavani has only just gotten the chance to enjoy the happiness at having someone talk to her when someone else approaches.
She assumes a brother at first, based on the similarities, but is surprised when the introductions clear up the relation right away - and Xii introduces Mojave as her son. A parent and their child just… existing together, as adults? She had seen some strange things in Beqanna, and grown accustomed to almost all of them, but this one is perhaps the strangest of them all.
This tiny little fact does not ruin her good mood but it does spin inside of her head while she offers her own name, her black-and-sky eyes smiling at them through the strange combination of incredulity and jealousy within her. “I’m Tavani.”
She should say that it is nice to meet them, which it is, or remark on the beauty of the day, another truth, but these niceties don’t have a chance against the subject she most wants to ask. So Tavani does, taking care that her tone shows more of her curiosity than judgment. “Do you two travel together a lot?”
Mojave’s gaze brighten with interest as he watches the dark mare, his inchworm* eyes catching the wind that seems to touch only her. Perhaps it is only that his own upright mane is too stiff to bend, but he has seen enough strange things to not immediately accept the simplest explanation.
“Tavani,” Xii repeats, “It’s lovely to meet you.” There is no indication in her pleasant smile that horses had once been as strange to her as the thought of controlling the wind. She still finds them rather homely, with their too-short ears, lanky bodies, and that unfortunate amount of floppy hair. Homely, but interesting, and she is genuinely pleased to have found someone new to converse with.
About to ask a question, she’d beaten to it by Tavani, and is surprised that it is not the usual “Where are you from?”, given how clear it seems that she is not a native of this land.
“Yes,” Mojave answers, which Xii accompanies with a nod, “For now.” At that, a brief expression of surprise flashes across her face. Though her son is nearly grown (and perhaps, to most he is well into adulthood), he’d not shown any interest in any of the the lands they’d traveled through. Especially not enough of an interest to indicate he was ready to leave her, to take on the role of kiang stallion - guarding his resources and those who chose to use them. Her people did not live in herds like she understands horses often do, and she had been intrigued by the kingdoms that had once flourished here, as they reminded her of the communal world in which she had grown up.
But Mojave is more than a kiang, and though his father had given his mother only a few weeks of company, he’d given his striped son a desire for a herdlife that his mother would have found strange. If he’d ever said it aloud, of course, which he had never done. He’d been building up to it though, and the question asked by the sky-eyed stranger was the perfect opportunity.
“And you, Tavani?” She asks, turning back to the other mare with a bemused expression on her face. “Are you usually out on your own?”
Tavani has grown so accustomed to seeing things that are strange to her that she had not thought anything of the differences in the pair with her now, the ones that were more evident in Xii than in Mojave. Except for the eyes - that has been a new, delightful thing that she had discovered upon arriving in Beqanna - the absolutely delightful and beautiful range of colours that eyes could come in. Fortunately, watching the eyes of who you were conversing with was, generally, considered polite so Tavani’s interest in the brilliant green and rich brown of the mother-son pair is not strange.
When her own question is turned back towards her, Tavani does not hesitate to answer with absolute honesty. “All my life, so far.” It does not occur to her that, perhaps, there is such a thing as being too honest with someone you’ve just met. Xii asked, so naturally Tavani told her. More honesty follows, paired with a wistful smile in her black-and-sky eyes. “Neither of my parents were around for very long, and I do not think I have any siblings. I did not know it could be otherwise.” She looks between them, wondering which of their stories (hers or theirs) is normal.
Despite her candid nature, she does not remark that she was very much hoping that she would not be travelling on her own for the rest of her life - because she is happily with company for the moment.
