"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
01-27-2017, 11:01 PM (This post was last modified: 01-27-2017, 11:01 PM by Rhonen.)
I haven't come to say I'm sorry
but I swear I'm on your side
Just as he was getting his bearings, the world was ripped out from under him again. First it had been getting lost, and having his family disappear (he’d though for sure it was temporary – but neither his twin nor his mother nor his father had ever come back). At some point, he’d realized that at his age, they all probably though Rhonen had left them. He hadn’t, but he had no idea where to find them, so he returned to the one place he thought they might someday come. Beqanna.
But thought he’d been born at the edge of the Falls, Rhonen knew nothing of Beqanna, and so he’d wandered around until he met his mother in the Deserts. It’d been nice, he supposed, if a little hot. Then there had been the creature, and the quest to save the world, and the strange magic that weighed heavy in his chest. Bound to protect the world, it had said, and Rhonen wondered what kind of burden that would be. Then finally, finally, he’d found the Falls. And it would have been nice, and he was so sure that his family would have come eventually. Nothing could keep Natilyn from the Falls forever.
Even that was taken. The Falls is gone. He has nothing left to draw his family back to him, and he masks the deep sadness with an outward bitterness.
Which is why he is stomping along in the Field, ears pinned back against his head, a scowl on his face. Because the world – pardon his French - sucks, and he’s not afraid to show how he feels about it.
Having just arrived to the Field from a land far far away she slipped into the shadows along the treeline. Dark orbs scanning the terrain for anything of interest... Any one of interest. She heard him before she seen him. Stomping about with sharp words. Her nape twisted to better view the source of all the commotion. To her surprise it wasn't a dark horse, more rosey red. Lobes perked in interest content on watching him cuss. She snickered slightly. Being herself, cause honestly she's awesome, words slipped from her maw as she stepped from the shadows, Who pissed in your oats this morning?! Smooth cackle to her question. Crown cocked and a smirk clean cut across her lips. Dark orbs appraised him as she neared stepping in his path to cut him off. Obviously he was a tad perturbed. It wasn't any of her business to why but maybe she could make it a tad less sucky. Ah yes that's what she could do. Tell me how I could make your day a bit better? She didn't brush against him like she would have Stillwater. She didn't know this one. She let the slight distance play between them. Her scent played enough. The temptress awaited his wish...
01-29-2017, 10:47 PM (This post was last modified: 01-29-2017, 10:48 PM by Rhonen.)
I haven't come to say I'm sorry
but I swear I'm on your side
He should be expecting to be approached. That is, after all, why he is in the Field. To find a new home.
Still, her approach draws his head up, ears back towards his skull, eyes darkened. A perpetual scowl. He sweeps his gaze from ear-tips to tail and back again, considering her words and her existence. Outwardly, she appears normal, but of course he knows that doesn’t matter in Beqanna. Outwardly, he appears normal as well. But he hasn’t been normal since the nightmares started. And even now, when his power is dormant, he can feel the heavy weight in his chest from the seal the Bellringer had entrusted to him. Even the fae didn’t relieve him of that burden. They still wanted their children to live, after all, and releasing any of the four seals of apocalypse would have been counter-productive towards that end.
On more than one occasion, he’s wondered what happens to the seal when he dies. Will Conquest be released, or dragged into death with him?
“Can you turn back time?” he responds to her question, tilting his head and waiting a second before answering his own question, voice dripping in disdain. “No, I didn’t think so. So you can’t really help me with my problems.” Another scowl – he doesn’t fail to notice that she is flirting, at least a little, and that she’d technically offered to help. He knows he should feel bad for snapping back at her, but guilt just makes him grumpier. “I guess you already know why I’m here. Why anyone comes to this godforsaken Field. What land have you come to parade before me as a paradise waiting for people like me to fill it?”
Not that it matters. She’s not going to name any damn place he recognizes anyway.
Burdened by many things in life herself she took his words with a grain of salt. She had been wronged before. Many times. His issues seemed more complex though and that intrigued her. Thoughts churned in her mind at what they could be. Why he wanted to go back in time. Never had she wanted to go back. What was back there anyhow? Disappointment, pain, angst... Nah that would be no fun. His question did render an immediate answer so she listened in interest at his next words...
As sharp as they were she did shove them back at him. Smirk simply remained on her features as it had the entire time. Dark orbs searching his for purpose. As he finished she paused momentarily before stepping forward. Her gaze fell off his and to his frame. Slipping from his jawline, down his nape, chest, shoulders... She curled around him. Slowly drinking him in as she judged him then crept up his other side. He didn't look gifted. No wings, horns, protrutions of any type. His mind though may be his gift. As it was hers. She had nothing special about her. Looks could be deceiving though.
She returned before him. Wicked grin still upon her features. Orbs once again holding his glare. His hate for this world was strong. Her grin grew. Oh what fun they could have. Who said I was offering you a home? Words were spoken surprisingly gentle. I can not turn back time, no. But... The future is where greatness is. Would you care to join me on the journey to greatness? Her proposition was simple. The lands were what they were now. That couldn't be changed. The future though was forever changing. So why not change it to favor us...
One minute they are watching each other, one set of dark eyes suspicious and the other cunning, and then she has moved. Rhonen isn’t expecting it, and so he does not move out of range before the mare is touching him, warm skin against warm skin. Body to body, and he stiffens in surprise, going very still, and then forces himself to stay that way.
Because the alternative is to lean into her, to seek the warmth that he has been missing since he woke up one day, curled around his twin, and decided to go adventuring and never saw her again. No one since has touched him like that – full body touching, wrapped around, intimate in its very existence.
He should lean in, perhaps nip lightly, and have some sort of witty comeback. He wants to, but he can’t quite manage. And he refuses to melt into her like a child with no self-control, and so he holds himself very still, nearly vibrating with the tension.
When she steps back, his eyes follow her, but he stays rooted firmly to the same spot. “People only come to the Field when they have a place to recruit for,” he mutters, finally cutting his eyes away. Thinking about the future is in parts bleak and in parts thrilling. He lets none of either of those feelings show on his face, instead looking everywhere except her as if he is considering the question, and then abruptly turns back, pinning her with his gaze. “What’s your name?”
He doesn’t usually agree to adventures with strangers.
The tightening of his form as she lightly brushed against him tempted her to do it even more. Why did they try to resist what they really wanted so much? She always did what she wanted when she wanted to do it. Her muzzle reached to touch his rosey pelt but stopped as she listened to his words. A question that actually required an answer he couldn't figure out on his own. Assuming he was deflecting she grinned, muzzle still a push away from his flesh. Formalities... Eh She quietly breathed her name into him,
Karaugh, it was all she said then. It was all she really needed to say. Wherever she came from didn't matter. Unless of course he took her up on her offer...
He flicks an ear to catch her name, though it would be hard to miss it, the way she is pressed into him. Karaugh, she says, and he turns his head far enough to look at her, though not far enough to shift any more of his body weight into her. He takes a moment to appreciate the contrast of her dark skin so close to the bright copper of his own. “Karaugh,” he repeats the word, tasting it on his tongue, considering it in his mind.
“I’m Rhonen,” he offers in return, and then gives her a sharp-edged smile. A dangerous smile, even if he doesn’t currently have the powers he used to have to back it up. His ears twist back towards his head again, and if she isn’t quick to move away, he aims a sharp nip at the neck which he considers entirely too close to him. Finally allowing his muscles to unlock, he steps away from her, and turns his gaze back to stare at the mare once more. “I’m already on the path to greatness,” he says, tilting his head, “but perhaps, for now, our paths may converge.”
Standing firmly in her chosen position, muzzle but a moment from tasting his flesh. Paused momentarily as he took in her name and gave his own. Rhonen. Soft hum rose from her vocals. Dark orbs caught his sharp movements but nae a flinch emitted from her own muscles. Letting the stab land upon her flesh, a slight sting remaining. As he moved off and resettled a distance away she turned to eye him curiously. Satisfied grin appeared as he spoke of converging. This path alone could be quite boring so anytime another wished to join she welcomed it. Most greatness was not achieved alone nor was appreciated without another to share it with. She looked to the western horizon motioning for his attention to draw the same. Her tone held an importance,
Head west through the Forest and across the river into Tagia. Continue on the path between the sparse mountains. On the far side is Sylva. A forested land of Autumn hues. You will find me there within the shadows of the thick canopies. I look forward to seeing you again. Lobes flickered forward as if seeking confirmation of his understanding her directions before turning away. Ebony whips cracked upon her hindquarters as forelimbs lunged her forward towards the western lands. Her journey had another stop before home so she quickened her pace.
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