"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
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Shirad’s questioning of his navigational ability goes ignored; he’ll never admit it. Ivar is rather impressed that she’s caught on so quickly; he’d been certain that most children were as terrible with directions as he’d been at her age.
The fauna of Loess is as varied as its flora, a unique trait of the otherwise geographically non-descript land. They have no soaring cliffs or long beaches, no magnificent forests to make the small kingdom stand out.
They have wildlife aplenty instead, wildlife and rainbow trees like those they shelter under. A living bouquet of orchids rest in most of the limbs, and wisteria dips its white flowered vines into the water ahead of them. Shirad seems to fit in well with the rainbow of colors, and he stands quietly beside her, his brown gaze fixed on the water ahead.
“Dunno,” Her replies, his voice as quiet as her own. “But hush, I think I hear something.” The scaled creature stills, the only sign of life he gives is the slow flaring of his pink-rimmed nostrils. There, directly ahead and slightly to the left, the greenery is moving. A small grey head with a rather impressive pair of ears emerges from between the leaves, blinking liquid black eyes cautiously. Seeing nothing to indicate danger, the wallaby takes several more hops forward before lowering its head to drink. It’s a rock wallaby, a smaller and less frequently seen relative of the grey kangaroos that roam the open hills. It’s followed shortly by another small wallaby, probably her child from the past spring. They don’t stay with their mothers past the autumn, he knows, and it’s rare to see them in large groups.
Ivar says nothing, knowing that even the slightest noise might startle the cautious creatures, but he looks curiously down at Shirad to see her reaction.
This hidden water basin is beautiful with its vivid foliage and glistening water. She finds herself wondering how often Ivar spends time here, if he has shown her a place that only the residents of Loess get to see. It's a good hiding spot (one that, honestly, she may not have expected) ─ even the wildlife feels safe enough to come and drink from it. The dragon-hide stallion shushes her, and if it hadn't been to avoid scaring away their visitor, she would have stuck her tongue out at him.
She turns her amethyst eyes away from Ivar and to the rustling plants across the small pond. Her breaths are shallow and she remains un-moving as the gray animal peels away from the foliage for a drink, followed swiftly after by a smaller version of itself. She smiles slightly at the things, content to watch them meander around for a few moments before she redirects her gaze to the black and white stallion. She smirks at the older male and nods for him to jump out and scare them ─ she would not be able to stand from her spot on the ground quickly enough without scaring them away first.
She turns her gaze back to the wallabies and flicks her blue and purple forelock from her face while she's at it, muscles tense and ready to push her small frame from the ground when Ivar makes to scare their newest company.
If the morning light don't steal our soul, we will walk away from empty gold.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
For a while longer they are quiet: Ivar watching Shirad who watches the wallabies. The violet filly looks up at him eventually, and Ivar interprets her nods as readiness. She’s had enough quiet. It’s time for some fun.
With a grin, he leaps forward.
The pool is not deep, and he lands in the knee deep water with a tremendous splash. The stallion remains where he has landed, knowing that Shirad is likely to be coming up beside him. The wallabies, perhaps in shock, remain frozen on the bank for an instant. Then, as quick as a blink they are gone, disappeared into the thick underbrush at the base of the bluff. Ivar is still laughing, and he looks down at the turquoise filly beside him, with a snort.
“They didn’t squeal like the tapirs sometimes do,” he says, “but I don’t think they’ll be coming back to this pool anytime soon.”
