"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
06-24-2018, 01:25 PM (This post was last modified: 06-24-2018, 01:44 PM by Chemdog.)
When the autumn sweeps the leaves away and the cold mountain air settles in the valleys Chemdog feels something different in his bones. It is a shift, he is almost sure, just like the world around him. His inner pendulum swings slightly cocked, he supposes, and his blood runs a little colder beneath his fluffed thick coat.
All roads lead to the River. Well, for him anyway. His wanderings last for a while but the draw is always there and does not break until he crosses back into the ether. Once his big feet plant back onto Beqannian soil his soul takes a deep sigh of relief. His black coat is littered with dead grass and debris from rolling joyously around on the hard ground. He prefers bush-whacking around instead of taking the roads like a normal traveler and so that surely adds to his ‘decorations’.
He comes out into the open, crossing the mosses and tangled vines before emerging. The ground squishing beneath him, it is swampland in the low areas. He walks calmly, half alert, to the behemoth oak which stands proudly out among all its brethren. Beneath its sprawling branches its roots heave and curl all around. Offerings of fruits and special florals are left at its base. Something loves the horses here and things are left in places like this. Just small things here and there, perfect for a moment like this. To be greedy is a mistake, but if you take one and mutter a thank you Chemdog has found that you have no trouble. A green apple catches his eye and he takes it gracefully, nodding and muttering softly and walking off, toying with the small apple before crunching it satisfyingly between his molars. Yummm.
He moves off to visit his old flowing friend, the River. Guided happily by its gushing sounds he makes his way to its pebbly banks.
Solace's daily patrol of Hyaline's scent-lines had once again morphed into something else. She had found the trail of what seemed to be a would-be visitor, but apparently, the other mare had changed her mind. The muddy tracks crossed over Hyaline's foothills for half a mile, only to return to turn back and return to the sheltered Riverlands. But Solace lost the tracks along the pebbly riverbank, and by now she was covered in mud from trotting across the damp earth.
"I guess she doesn't want to be found today," the gold splashed mare thinks to herself, wondering what the odds were that the equine in question was a spy. She decided to patrol the same stretch of foothills once dusk falls tonight but otherwise forgets all about the mysterious stranger as she slides into a quiet, deep portion of the river. The water is black and cool and swallows her readily until nothing but her pale head is above the surface. Few rocks interrupt the current, and Solace stretches out her broad wings, allowing the gentle waters to clean between each of her cerulean feathers.
She is completely relaxed until downstream and upwind she catches sight of a large stallion. He certainly isn't trying to be quiet, and when she moved he would be sure to spot her. So even though she was about to head back to Hyaline she decides to call out to the painted stallion, instead of getting "caught" slipping away.
He looks a mess, but he smells like apples, and that's not such a bad thing.
She propels herself toward the banks until her topline is out of the water and her hooves find purchase. "Hello," she says in a friendly tone, beginning to splash towards the stranger. She halts once she is just within speaking range with her usual casual, plesant expression on her face. "Which way to the apple tree?"
06-26-2018, 07:53 PM (This post was last modified: 06-26-2018, 07:53 PM by Chemdog.)
The water is cold on his dry throat, feels good going down. Delicious mountain water, Beqanna water – oh what a wild and pure place it is, hidden away. It is an odd population here on this land, in this world, and it’s beauty is unmatched, its uniqueness unequal to any others. Even with the plethora of paces though, he loved the Riverlands the best so far. Hyaline was decent, but the River has always been his favored haunt.
Her voice rides the burble of tumbling water so easily it could have been mistaken for the swoop of a hawk or the fleeing clatter of a deer’s feet. He sees her there so clearly though, he knows it was a voice; something about apples. His ears flip forward, water dribbling from his grin. What a deliciously beautiful creature… Her wings out and her feathers filtering through the crystalline water, she was a beautiful sight to behold really…and he’s seen quite a few gorgeous women in his time trolling the streets.
“Oh,” his voice is bold and deep, “Under the oak there are some piles left for us.” He says this so deliberately, as if she’ll just know. “But really I know a good stash of trees just south of here if you’re reeelly looking for some good apples..” He chuckles to himself, half serious because he really does know a stash but also he’s got little interest in going there at the moment.
“What’s your name?” his voice comes through a smirk, his teal eyes hidden behind his chunky black bangs while he watches her carefully.
His deep voice rumbles in harmony with the tumbling waters, and Solace is glad to see she has not startled him with her Hello. River dwellers could be flighty creatures she had found, but his nonchalant acceptance of her presence helps to reassure her that he is not a lurking Sylvian spy.
"Left for us?" She questions him gently with a smile tugging at one corner of her pale muzzle. She wonders who would pile apples under an oak tree, but sometimes the unanchored residents of the Riverlands could be eccentric.
They had to occupy their long, dim days somehow - she supposed.
Despite the information of another stash somewhere close, she is content to remain belly-deep in the cool water - as he seems to be too. Solace watches his sea-green eyes, noting the fire which is not altogether unfamiliar to see in a stallions eyes this time of year, and the way they almost seem to struggle to remain locked on her face. She keeps her distance but remains easy, the only precaution she takes in to draw her heavy, water-soaked wings out of the water.
The fethers drain, washing her golden topline in their rivers as he asks for her name.
"Lace," she replies with her childhood nickname on a whim (one that she probably indulged too often). But the young mother wanted to know more about this stranger at her doorstep before she revealed her title, and after four years as the ruler of Hyaline, her name often brought with it recognition. "And what should I call you?"
"Left for us?" her voice strings together with the whispers of riverwater and his eyes tip over to her with an elusive grin, letting his eyes rest on her for a moment. He doesn't answer her inquiry and lets it pass over to be answered with empty space and quiet breathing, flowing water and the tinkle of fairies if you listen real close.
“Lace.” Her name rolls smoothly from his lips, rumbling low like a purr. He ponders, I know what Lace is...delicate patterns of pure alabaster; futures and fortunes woven into its designs. “Chem.” His eye contact does not waver, steady and soft, still trying hard to not flicker over the rest of her golden hills and valleys.
“What brings you here then, Lace?” It is the least intrusive question he has in his arsenal, next to ‘what’s your name?’.
Ring the bells that still can ring, Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.
Maybe if Solace had been a better student in her adolescence the name Chem would mean something to her. She had heard it before after all, from the king who came before her. But she had never had a face to match with the name and it had slipped away from her memory. Hyaline's first Professor and Amet's Heir had missed each other by a matter of weeks.
Maybe that is why his scent sparks an interest in her mind, smells always were more stubborn than names when it came to memories - and his must of been lingering during her first days in her new home. But for now, they are just strangers exchanging nicknames in the woods - and she doesn't think to look further.
The current is swift and cool and as a breeze passes over them a shiver runs down her spine. Removing herself from the river, Solace turns back to listen to his question, oblivious to the effort he is putting into his self-restraint.
"I was following a trail, but it ended up fizzling out." She replies with a faint shrug of her pale shoulders. "Some mare came up to Hyaline's foothills then turned back the way she came, and disappeared somewhere downstream."
No worries! I was away for most of that anyway XD
@[Chemdog]
09-06-2018, 08:25 AM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2018, 11:39 AM by Chemdog.)
His teal eyes follow her while she emerges from the river, his slowly spinning with the sound of water trickling off of her. He got no memory of her name, or of her body, the wings, the eyes - the curves of her painted skin rolling over her finely built skeleton. His skin twitches as if a fly has landed, there are no flies, but something stirs in him, prickles his skin. A grin forms across the blackness of his lips, amusement flickers in his bright eyes as they drift from her to the shadows and back again. While she speaks he listens, humming a receptive sound with a nod and letting a pause fall between them.
“The Lake.” He says this low with traces of affection threaded through, closing his eyes with a deep breath and flitting them open to flicker over the shadows in the distance. “Is Amet still ruling?” He’s almost sure he is not, but her answer might give away the stallion’s fate; Chem had always liked him.
His tail splashes from side to side, again reining in an urge to reach out and brush his lip against the warmth (or chilliness, really) of her wet shoulder. It must only be a matter of time now, before he gives in to temptation.
09-25-2018, 05:25 PM (This post was last modified: 09-25-2018, 05:27 PM by Solace.)
The Lake
He turns the words in such a way that she is suddenly sure he has been there. The musing wistfulness of his tone is not lost on her and her as she looks at him with more than passing curiosity now.
"I haven't heard it called that in an age," Tangerine, her mother, had never become used to calling them mountains Hyaline either. Many of the stories her mother told her were set under the wisteria trees of The Lake, and Solace smiles as the nostalgia tugs at her.
"Amet passed leadership to me four years ago," she adds mildly, unsure of how close Chem had been to the dragon king. Amet had receded slowly from kingdom life after showing Solace the ropes, until one day she realized that she never saw the flash of his golden scales or his free-spirited companion anymore. He had gone, but she had always like to think he had built a life somewhere else form himself and Eione.
"I was just about to head back if you would like to come along," she suggests, before shaking what remains of the river water from her pelt.
S
olace
we're reeling through an endless fall we are the ever-living ghost of what once was
