"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
09-29-2015, 05:31 PM (This post was last modified: 10-20-2015, 04:54 PM by Beqanna Fairy.)
The dunskin mare walked around the meadow her hooves crunching in the snow as she made her way to the creek to quench her fry burning throat. She tossed her head snorting softly causing vapor to rise in front of her wide hazel eyes as she finally arrived at the banks of the creek, it was frozen, this cause another sigh to come from the mare's nose as she pawed at the thin ice to get what was underneath. She bent her head down and gulped at the cold water, it froze her throat but it quenched her burning thirst.
The small equine looked around at the seemingly deserted meadow, she had heard that horses normally gather here to chat and make friends but she had obviously chosen a bad time to try to make friends and chat it up with other horses. She walked back up the bank and onto the flat area. She stopped under a low pine tree to keep her shaded from the brightness of the snow and sun mixed together hurting her bright eyes. She was easy to spot her dark coat in stark contrast to the never ending white
The snow here is deeper than in the Falls, and Texas has been eyeing it irritably from the shelter of the forest. He is thirsty, but the creek bank is at least fifteen feet from where he stands in the shallow drifts at the trees’ edge. It would infinitely easier to forge ahead and deal with the cold, but Texas has almost made up his mind to return home for a drink.
He’s even shifted his weight to turn away when he hears the sound of hooves crunching through the snow. Turning his head, he spots a mare making her way toward the creek.
Well.
He can’t not do something that a mare can, so he takes a single tentative step into the deeper snow, sighs, and then makes his chilly way toward the creek. He drinks from the space in the ice that the mare had chipped away, and when he is sated turns toward where she stands beneath the shelter of a low-hanging pine branch. With little else to do on this bright and cold winter day, the bay stallion walks in her tracks until he’s close enough to speak. “ S’ cold, huh?”
He’s articulate and elegant; the very definition of a gentleman.
The dunskin female flicked her ears in the direction of the coming hoof falls. She turned her head as they stopped beside her and she nodded politely and listened to his statement about the cold, it was cold but not as cold at her last home. The temperatures there never above freezing during the day and the night, yes it was chilly here but her definition of cold was way different then his but all in all she agreed with the stallion. "Yes it is chilly out here" she said her eyes twinkling slightly as she tossed her black forelock out of her twinkling hazel eyes.
"If you think its so cold why are you out in this weather?" she asked softly her small head tilting to the side making her look younger then she actually is. She takes a small step toward the stallion seeking warmth but her body refused to get any closer as her fears nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her what a stallion did to her herd, more so to her. She sighs softly closing her eyes and shivering a moment as a sharp breeze cut through her small form to her bones making her colder then she was. "Where are you from?" she asked another question with out really thinking but she genuinely wanted to know where the stallion came from and why he was here.
For a stallion that once claimed the northern Tudnra as his home, Texas is especially picky about the weather. He sometimes claims that old age has softened him (false) or that he’s sensitive (also false), but the truth is that the weather is simply something to complain about, and he is always searching for something to lament.
“Home gets boring sometimes,” he replies with a shrug of his brown shoulders. Perhaps such a statement is not the best PR for his small kingdom, but there is only so much socializing with the same lot of horses that the bay stallion can tolerate. They’re alright, he supposes, but he is easily distracted, and no place is better for offering novel distractions than the Meadow. “I’m from the Falls,” answers the lanky stallion, no longer finding the phrase strange to say after nearly a decade of calling the place home.
“What about you?” He asks, having noticed her small step toward him and following hesitance. He has no qualms about nearness to mares (and has the eighty children to prove it), but he is not the type of man to force his presence on someone so clearly reluctant. He doesn’t move away though, clearly allowing her to press forward if that’s what she decides to do. She is pretty, he decides, if a bit too young for him. Everyone is too young for him, of course, but he occasionally likes to pretend he has some sort of standards. “I’m Texas, by the way.”
The fea flicked her ears towards the stallion as he spoke, she watched him with curious hazel eyes. "Home.." She mused her eyes getting a far off glazed look "It has been a while since I have called somewhere home" she said her ears tipping back slightly as her mood plummeted from relaxed to depression. This was the first time in a long time that she realized she has been alone for 2 years. She shook her head slightly and sighed "My home used to be fantastic till my herd and I were ran out of it, by some stallion who thought that he could forcibly claim any mare he chose. That is how I got my scar." she said motioning to the deep scar in her rump.
"The Falls? Sounds lovely" she said inching towards him again to where their bodies were almost touching she could stick her nose out and brush his shoulder, she needed comfort, she so desperately wanted it. But she was afriad to offend this large stallion to cause him to lash out. He spoke his name and she obliges to speak hers "I am Hoku, It is nice to meet you." she said her tone shy and her eyes cast down at the ground.
Something he’s said seems to resonate with the dun mare, and Texas watches as her mood shifts. Not having a home isn’t a state worthy of sadness for the bay stallion, so for a moment he is at a loss as to why it is so striking to the mare beside him. He’s gone decades with nowhere to lay his head but the Meadow, but his necessary socialization threshold is remarkably low for a horse. The same clearly can’t be said for Hoku.
Clearly the idea of home has brought up sour memories, and Texas does his best to seem appropriately concerned. He does look more closely at the scar – he’d not noticed it at all until she’d pointed it out. He’s never managed to keep a scar for longer than they take to heal; it’s a side effect of his immortality, he supposes. It does look rather nasty, and telling of a painful wound to go along with her story. “That sounds sad,” he says, unsure what else is appropriate to say in response to such a tale.
When she refuses to get close despite clearly seeming to want to, Texas chooses to break his customary approach and takes the final step, pressing his warm shoulder against hers. It’s nothing more than companionable – shared warmth in the cold – and he says nothing about it to avoid any potential awkwardness. “The Falls is nice,” he says with a nod, “Warmer than here anyway. No nasty stallions either.”
The mare watched the stallion think of what to say about her sad statement then she answered him "I didn't mean to ruin your mood Texas" she said tentatively her eyes meeting his with an apologetic look in them. She looked out ahead of them to watch a buck make his way into the open to try to find something to eat. Poor thing, she pitted the animal, it looked pretty skinny, so he probably wasn't the most resourceful thing. She sighed softly and continued to watch the animal until Texas spoke up about his home again.
"Warmer, man that would be pretty nice and with out nasty stallions the palce sounds wonderful" she said her voice soft as she looked back at the stallion.
Despite his initial disinterest and dislike of the high emotional content of their interaction, Texas is grateful for the silence that she allows to grow between them. So many others might have filled It up with idle chatter, but Hoku seems content to watch the deer searching for food in the Meadow.
“Why don’t I take you there?” he offers suddenly.
She doesn’t seem especially happy here, and while he’s far from possessing a White Knight complex, he’ll readily admit that sometimes the Falls gets a little boring. He’s invited several others in the last few weeks, and while Nixie, Cymbalta, and Below are lively characters, they do all seem to be very fond of talking.
“You can make it your home, if you’d like, or just stay for a while.” This is why he’s not the best recruiter, of course; he feels no need to pressure someone into staying or to convince them that there is no better place than the Falls. He is sure there is, of course, but he’s not yet found it in or out of Beqanna. So it is to the Falls that he always returns, either at nightfall or at the end of a decade of wandering.
