"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
03-23-2016, 05:59 PM (This post was last modified: 03-23-2016, 06:39 PM by Aemar ♦ Raelyx.)
The three figures stand perfectly still along the Tundra's horizon, mother and sons. Their scent drifts along the breeze, but they do not fear alarming anyone - Galilee's scent has lingered here often, mixed delicately with the scent of Brennen. And the boys - they are the physical embodiment of that mixture.
Her darkened lips find the crease behind each of their ears, and they busy themselves there fondly. Her suave voice cracks as she says her goodbyes, her well-wishes. The older boy brushes her off, but lends his mother a loving eye. The younger boy leans into her caresses, whinnying his heartfelt goodbye. In the end, the eldest boy must break up the little band, stepping away from the beautiful woman and tearing his brother with him.
"Go now, mother. Belgaer and Mosrael need you at home." Smiling one last goodbye, the white-chestnut boy turns and starts off into the kingdom, spurning the twang of his heartstrings. Behind him, his brother, a perfect mirror image of Galilee, walks backwards, calling endless goodbyes to the mare who stands on the border, waiting until she can see her sons no more.
It takes some time until the brothers walk shoulder to shoulder, steam curling from their nostrils.
"Don't look so glum, Raelyx." Says the eldest from between the points of his beak, extending his Great Blue Heron wing to knock against the small, bone-armoured boy.
"I'm not glum, Aemar." The younger states softly, clutching his own wings tightly to his sides. "It's just cold, is all."
With a roll of his yellowed eyes, Aemar drops the subject. For a little eternity, the brothers march in silence, scouring the bareness of the Tundra for any signs of life. It shouldn't be long until they come under the scrutiny of some old nag - a two year old bird-horse and his yearling bone-bird brother ought to present quite the sight.
03-23-2016, 09:00 PM (This post was last modified: 03-23-2016, 09:08 PM by Patchouli.)
Patchouli
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi
The golden boy shivers, already numb to the bone. What have you gotten yourself into Patch? He often wonders to himself, his winter coat taking entirely too long to thicken, coming in much too thin to survive this place, he is certain. Often the palomino can be found huddled in a cave, curled up next to a wall of ice, or just plain attempting to hide from the cold. Cold, much too cold here. He would be particularly amazed if he managed to survive his first winter here, already he was frigid and hungry.
Patchouli doesn't recall if his Mother ever offered him a single loving embrace. Surely just one? Ever heard of love at first sight? Well, Patch was disappointment at first sight, bearing no trace of the serpent like his Dam. Instead his golden coat had been freckled with bend, patches of brown where none should have been. He watches silently as an unusual marked mare drops two children off at their borders, urging them forward with gentle hugs and kisses.
One seems eager to come, or at least wills himself to appear so. The other prolongs the goodbyes until he has been drug too far away. Brothers, he guesses but he knows nothing of spending time with his brothers, let alone wishing their Mother farewell in sadness.
She never wanted him in the first place, he was utterly useless to her. So useless that with time, he had begun to think the very same. That's why Patchouli has wandered so much, always feeling out of place or mediocre in a world of brilliance. Here at least, this remote Kingdom, no one seemed to judge him. No one cared that Patch was spotted and traitless, they didn't mind his laid back ways and lack of fight.
"Hey kids, what happenin'?" his smooth smokey voice calls out, eyes linked on the big one, the one in lead. His body racks with shivers as he trembles against the cold, already looking miserable today, yet somehow he always sounds happy.
it is better to conquer yourself, than to win a thousand battles
hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river
She watches them, too, from her quiet place higher up the mountain, pressed close to the ice wall so that the near-winter winds cannot reach her as easily. She does not mean to spy, but the kingdom seldom had any visitors and she could not deny the prickle of curiosity she felt when not one but three unfamiliar faces appeared just within the narrow gate. She suspected the lack of visitors was due much in part to the extreme weather, those like she with thin summer coats felt the cold immediately, like needles buried where there should be hair and bruises thereafter when the ice finally dulled the pain to a strange but manageable numbness.
It becomes almost immediately clear that what she is witnessing is likely meant to be a private moment and she flinches suddenly, averting her dark curious eyes for a long moment. She can remember both her mother and her father loving her that way, can remember forelocks ruffled and foreheads kissed, being tucked within her mother’s wings so as to ward off the chill of night before it ever had a chance to touch her skin. But she can also remember when father left and mother drifted, when their small family fell apart without ceremony. She had learned then that nothing was forever, just as these boys would learn it now.
When her face lifts again to where the group stood before, she does not spot them right away. The mare has gone and the two boys are trudging quietly up the mountain, shoulder-to-shoulder, flank-to-flank. She feels a pang in her chest, an unwelcomed weight that settles there like a stone as she remembers her twin, Wyck, her quiet other half. Their closeness struck a painful chord in her heart.
She doesn’t go to them right away, but she watches them with soft eyes as they travel closer and closer to the place in which she hides from the cold. And then before she realizes what she is doing or why, she has abandoned her place against the wall to walk across the bare and frozen ground to join them. Another joins them first though, palomino and unfamiliar, and for a moment she pauses uncertainly, reminded that she is as much a stranger in this place as they are.
But something draws her forward again and there is a quiet almost-smile etched into the soft angles of her face when she joins the trio. She notices their wings first and loves them immediately, reminded once more of being tucked beneath her mother’s so many years ago. She traces the bone armor too, the beak and feather of the bird-like one. They are beautiful in their strangeness. Her dark eyes shift between all three and she does not miss the way two of them shiver openly like she does, hunched against the relentless cold. The smile on her lips deepens a little and she reaches out hesitantly to brush her lips against the neck of the smaller boy with skin as sleek and bay as her own. “It is kind of awful,” she commiserates between teeth that chatter just a little, pulling her chin back towards her narrow chest, “I’ve been assured it gets better though.”
She pauses a heartbeat and shifts to include all three of the strangers standing around her, and then so quietly, “I’m Isle.”
And, in fact, it does not take long before the brothers are interrupted.
Aemar spots him first - Raelyx being so busy warding off the cold and all - and nudges the bay softly with the elbow of his elegant wing. With matching intensity, the colts watch the stranger approach. One pair of bird-yellow eyes, the other a seemingly lifeless blue-grey. At the ring of the palomino’s smooth smokey voice, the pair halt in unison, unblinking eyes analyzing the young, friendly stallion.
“We’re Brennen’s sons.” States Aemar with his strange, triangular tongue, the pronunciation perhaps skewered here and there. “I’m Aemar.” The gangly stallion forces his mottled chestnut skin to lay flat against his muscles, despite the palomino’s clear disregard for doing likewise.
“Raelyx,” the armored boy allows, though he directs the word towards the approaching mare. Aemar’s ear pivots towards the hoofsteps before his head follows. Again the pair perform there scrutiny of the stranger, eyes trained on her approach. Perhaps Galilee ought to have taught them manners before dropping them inside a populated kingdom.
Too late now.
Ears retreating to the base of his small skull, Raelyx scoops his head so as to watch the woman gently brush his bare neck. When nothing ill comes of the gesture, the Anglo-Arabian hybrid relaxes, and even blinks warmly at the woman. Perhaps the crack of a smile, too.
“We don’t mind much,” the young one comments, glancing to Patchoulli before training his sea-eyes back on Isle. “‘Ts nice to meet you, Isle.”
Aemar watches the interaction with unwavering interest, though his angular face remains stoic. Shifting his gaze, the colt admires the friendly palomino’s bends, but refrains from commenting on them. Instead, he lifts a front talon and snatches idly at the thin layer of snow beneath it.
“Any chance you know of somewhere a little sheltered? My brother is cold.” Raelyx whips his head around and nips his brother’s shoulder, knowing full well that Aemar can do little to nothing effective in retaliation. Glaring venomously at the appaloosa, Raelyx returns his gaze to Isle as though the little confrontation had never happened.
The intimacy of the situation is apparent but it is not cause for him to turn from them. Instead with his smooth greeting he nickers against their names, saving them for memory without repeating them out loud. One has the strangest tongue, something of the likes Patchouli has never before seen, something that draws his unfiltered stare. Maybe he should hide that innocent curiosity but he doesn’t even try.
Brennen’s kids…
Should that mean something? Probably. Unfortunately Patch still knew very little about his new home and the residents within. Mostly he spent his time huddled in a cave, shivering next to a wall, simply hiding best he could from the cold. His bespeckled hide had yet to thicken to his liking, it is not likely that this winter he could hope for something warm enough to be comfortable. Honestly if he survived the coming months, well, even he would be surprised at that.
“Right, welcome. I’m Patchouli.” he tries his best to sound knowledgeable and luckily someone else is hopefully there to save him from embarrassment.
She’s lovely, brown and white, a pleasing pattern but still no one the golden boy knows. He nods once at her name, saving it too because he had so few names memorized and because she seemed to belong here more than he did.
“Kind of awful?” he laughs looking around at the group with clear amusement, “I’m freezing my nads off, awful is an understatement.” No apologies, or awkward take backs, simply an ‘oops’ look for the woman after the words are spoken. “Well, there are a few caves a ways back, a decent overhang against the wall, unless our good lady knows somewhere better?”
In truth he kind of hoped she did but he wanted to feel useful all the same. He had some ideas of his own for shelter, maybe not the best caves or crevices to date but they were something- they were all he had.
it is better to conquer yourself, than to win a thousand battles
im sorry for the wait..and the suck. i dont yet understand him
hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river
She joins them just a moment too late and the only name she catches is Raelyxs. It is a reflex when her mind dips into the chestnut colts, touching the unguarded thoughts floating just above the surface like leaves in the ripples of a pond. She catches one thought and then another, and then carefully she disentangles her mind from his, hoping he won’t have noticed the closeness. The resentment she feels for herself is immediate, like warm bile rising in her throat but she swallows it back with a cringe. She wasn’t even sure if this resentment was hers or if it was bred from the sourness of others, of those who would resent mind readers for knowing thoughts but chose not to hate those with eyes for using them to see. Eyes they understood. But Isle, she was a monster. But she takes those two thoughts anyway, anyway, and holds the first in her chest like a glowing warmth.
“Brennen is my grandfather.” She tells them quietly, lifting those brown eyes to their quiet faces to settle like dark bruises against their skin. She hopes that they will assume she had overheard them as she approached. “I will be glad to have family here, Aemar, Raelyx.” She might’ve reached out to touch Raelyx’s neck again, but she remembers how he had stiffened before and instead remains unmoving at his side.
Isle cannot help but laugh when Patchouli speaks so bluntly, and she can feel the hint of a smile tugging at her mouth when those dark eyes dance bemusedly to his face. “Yes, that must’ve been what happened to mine also, Patchouli.” She feels lighter now beside this trio, can feel her wary apprehension melting away like snow-thaw beneath the noon sun.
But then the colts ask after a warmer place than this and she can feel heat flushing her skin beneath the brown dapples of fur. Truthfully, she used Offspring to chase away the bite of this perpetual winter. It was warm and safe tucked against his side, with her mouth against his scars and his lips tracing secrets along the length of her spine. But she very much doubted this would be a reasonable solution for the trio gathered before her. Instead she shook her head with an apologetic smile and looked back to Patchouli. “The ice walls make a good windbreak if you can tuck yourself beneath them, but there isn’t any relief to find there from the cold. I think your caves would be the best choice, Patchouli.” She shrugs reflexively against the wind where it needles beneath the bay of her still sleek coat. Mostly she had tried to avoid standing out in the open where the wind scrubbed the plains and ice glistened over everything like a gleaming blue glaze. Taking a breath that hurt when it expanded her goose-pimpled flesh, she inched closer still to Raelyx, reflexively used to borrowing body heat with Offspring when the cold felt nearly unbearable. “Care to lead the way, Patchouli?”
Despite Aemar’s decidedly stoic attitude, his bird-yellow eyes take on a new light at Patchouli’s introduction, and the colt even smiles restrictedly at the news of his relations with Isle. A bow of his noble head to both strangers, and Aemar comes one step closer to being a nice, regular bloke with nice, regular things to say and do.
Sadly, that was only one step out of many.
The brightness of his eyes turns stony at the palomino’s joke - true, on most any member of the male species, that would have brought on a gale of laughter. Aemar, however, being but two years of age and terribly secluded, seems almost to take offense. The tips of his beak click together decidedly, and his jaw sets as Isle adds her own piece on to the jibe. Somehow, that low-grade humour just does not compute in the poor fool’s mind.
Raelyx, on the other hand, has not been completely hardened by the solidarity of his first year of life; his sea-green eyes bounce between Isle and Patchouli during the exchange, and a soft, uncomfortable smile consumes his bone-masked face. The image is rather adorable, actually - a tiny boy dressed in bone smiling like a fool at the jester and the lady. The poor child even chuckles, the pitch high in his youth. One glance at Aemar shuts him up though - there exists a hierarchy between them, and Raelyx has no intention of removing it.
Clearing his throat quietly, Raelyx assumes the role of ‘speaker,’ knowing that his baffled, uncomfortable older brother certainly wouldn’t continue the conversation after that particular exchange. Ah, well. The stick’ll be worked out of his ass eventually, I hope.
“The caves sound perfect, thanks.” Noticing Isle’s closeness, Raelyx chances a glance to the ever-stoic Aemar before hesitantly sliding right next to the woman. The little man still shivers madly, and, given his age, he instinctually drifts towards maternal figures. Truth be told, he’s too young to be away from Galilee, but the world never works with truth, does it? No.
Gently attaching himself to Isle’s warmth, the bone-child nods to Patchouli in readiness. Aemar shuffles his massive wings and flicks his ears, sighing quietly and settling in closer to the group. If you can’t make them go away with your staring, join ‘em.
As they begin walking, Raelyx starts a little at an epiphany he’s just had -
“Wait, Isle, that makes you our… niece.”
Shaking his head with a smile at that notion, Aemar looks to Patchouli.
“Pray tell, is your family as strange as ours? Birds, bones, reversed ages and all. I’d hate to be too strange to handle.” Ah, my bespeckled boy - perhaps you do have a sense of humour after all.
Anyone else might worry that they had been crude or that their little joke was in ill taste, Patchouli, was not. He was too carefree or careless one to fret over every little thing he said or did. Maybe that is why Mother never liked him, maybe that was why he was the ”unloved son”. Regardless, Patchouli was Patchouli, nothing more, nothing less. The speckled palomino cannot help but notice the flat, matte appearance the eldest boy’s eyes take at his little quip. Tough crowd.
It’s not until Isle releases her own commentary that he truly cannot contain himself, a hardy guffaw of laughter follows her little joke. Hers fell off too, well that was just too much.
“Ha, ha hahahah!” He could really tear up but he catches his breath with a few more ha’s. “I never expected-“ The beginnings of praise for her quick thinking. “Nice one, very nice.” Patch takes a quick suck of air, winding himself and taking in the conversation as it delves further into finding warmth.
“Caves, yes, I know a few. I know a great one actually, it wasn’t like that before and then what do you know- POOF!” Too bad he didn’t really specify any further than that, just that it was a great cave, a special cave and he had selfishly thought to keep it to himself. He couldn’t now, it wasn’t right, these were kids, Isle was huge with child. No, after thinking about how bitter the cold was even for himself, a man grown, well he couldn’t let a child or babe suffer through it if they didn’t have to.
It’s a bit further than the others but it’s worth it. It has its own heat source I tell you, it’s like magic.
Without much more commentary on the fact he turned to leave, facing west and took a steady stride as his own. “Lead? Yeah, um, no biggie. This way.” He doesn’t think to say much more, not really sure how to carry on the tune so to speak. Luckily the boys take up the conversation, though their topic isn’t exactly his favorite.
“Yeah, sure, family. I’ve got one if that’s what you mean. They’re aren’t exactly my cup of tea, or I’m not theirs you might say. When it comes to strangeness I’m the one that falls short, but no difference- I hear they take all kinds in the Tundra.” All kinds, even a chill, traitless Palomino like himself. A man with little to no fight, too scrawny or too soft to ever take up battle.
it is better to conquer yourself, than to win a thousand battles
