"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
08-24-2018, 01:36 AM (This post was last modified: 10-06-2018, 04:36 PM by lynx.)
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
This is not home.
It doesn’t call to her. It does not wind around her icy heart. It does not dig into her—does not lay claim to a soul that is utterly and entirely her own. Despite the parents that live here or, rather, lived here (ghosts that wisp around the edges of her vision and mind, barely real), despite the twin that still stalks the borders, she does not find herself drawn here. In fact, her returning is merely happenstance, a wrong turn, a few days of not paying attention—several forgotten shifts in direction and suddenly, here she is.
It would be irritating if it made her feel anything all.
She finds herself in one of the common spaces throughout Beqanna, the crowds too large, too boisterous for her liking. Their thoughts are clouded and thick, simple minds thinking simple thoughts, and her upper lip curls in distaste, annoyance flashing in her unnaturally dual-colored eyes. It is not surprising to know that the caliber of resident has not risen during her absence, but she finds it disheartening all the same.
One would think that they would either evolve or simply cease to exist.
Their durability is a shame.
She sniffs and then pulls back from the sticky masses, retreating into the shadows of trees that line the meadow, welcoming the cool air and the silence. She can still feel their thoughts, fluttering in the peripheral of her mind, but they are no longer so loud, no longer boisterous and demanding, and thus she can finally breathe—taking large gulps of cool air. Part of her wants to seek out the company of her brother, wondering what he has made of his life since she left. Another part of her wants to find perhaps the only other soul she even remotely considered a friend (although the very thought makes her stomach curl in annoyance). But, for the most part, she is content in the silence, in the alone.
Where she can hear her own thoughts. Where she does not sacrifice her sanity for another’s grievances.
He likes sunbathing. And unlike other men his age, he has never been too masculine to admit to such a thing. It’s quite delightful, actually. Beautiful golden rays warming russet flesh perpetually afflicted with cold. The cold might never bother him, but he can feel the heat. And he enjoys it, in all it’s various and sundry forms. Indeed, today he can be found laying flat out on the patchy forest floor, directly beneath a beam of late autumn sunlight. Probably unsurprising to any that know him.
And unlike her, this is home to him. Beqanna would always call him back. Oh, sure, he had gone out and explored the world. He probably even would again. He had already thoroughly investigated all the sights Beqanna had to offer, his ever curious mind never letting him settle until he had known all that could be known. From there, it had only been natural that he had wanted to investigate some of those lands outside Beqanna. There are so many, after all. Too many to be explored in a single lifetime.
But he would always return.
Breathing a deep, happy sigh, he is content to lounge in the sunlight like the bum that he is. At least, he’s content until a faint rustling draws his attention. He doesn’t move immediately, though his bright amber eyes pop open and his ears twitch curiously. He doesn’t move until it is clear that whoever it was is pattering their way towards him rather than away.
Shifting abruptly into an upright position, his head snaps up as he glances around with friendly curiosity. When his gaze lands upon a figure, he blinks several times as a niggling familiarity assails him. In seconds, recognition pops into place as a lopsided grin tugs at his features.
She has changed, to be sure. It has been ages since last they’d met, but though she’d aged, she is still the recognizable as the same, antisocial filly he had once forced to be his friend. No doubt she was still just as grumpy.
To be fair, though he too has grown (becoming a rather ok-looking though unassuming stallion), he is still just as unassailably happy as always. And even more so in the presence of an old friend. “I knew you couldn’t stay away!” he quips merrily the moment he recognizes her, amusement in his low tone. Pulling himself to his feet then, he grins cheekily at her. “Didn’t I say once you couldn’t escape me?”
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
She hears his thoughts before she sees him—the particular pitch and cheeriness of them cutting through the noise. It elicits a groan from her, the patchwork mare closing her eyes and dropping her head in defeat. She had wondered when (never if, with him) he would find her and she is not surprised at how quickly her luck turns sour. She doesn’t move when he makes his way toward her, doesn't move when his voice finally rings out in the air between them and not just playing out in the privacy of her mind.
Instead she groans again, the sound rumbling in her thin chest.
“You again?” She doesn’t admit that there is part of her that’s pleased to see him. Part of her that had been hoping she’d run across the red stallion—his joy so different than the bitterness that so often resides within her. “I’ve avoided you for several years now,” she sniffs, finally turning her head and meeting his gaze with her dual-colored red and blue eyes. “It has been a lovely few years, come to think of it.”
She watches as he pulls himself to his feet, distaste clear in his expression.
He was such a silly, informal boy with no sense of proprietary.
It really was so improper.
She sniffs again and shakes her head. “You’ve not changed a bit, Fox,” her voice is cool and were it not for the deepening of her voice, the feminine edge maturing it, it could still be the thin girly voice that she had admonished him with all of those years ago. “Your thoughts are as whimsical and foolish as they were when I first met you. Have you not grown up at all since then?”
As far as he is concerned, everyone could do with some extra cheer in their life. Especially her. She needs cheer like he needs air to breath. If not, she might collapse under the sheer weight of her perpetual scowl. Can’t have that, can we?
The groan that emanates from deep in her chest only serves to broaden his grin, deepening the twinkle in his eyes. Say what she would, he can tell she’s happy to see him. Or, I suppose, happy in the relative sense. Besides, she could just as easily hotfoot it out of here if she truly didn’t want him around. He certainly wouldn’t stop her.
Still here? Yep, she’s definitely got a secret thing for him.
“Oh, but it’s even lovelier now that you’re here,” he quips merrily with a broad wink and a wry smile. “Makes those years seem like only minutes, doesn’t it?”
Improper he might be, but he has a feeling it’s an impropriety she likes. Even so, he is quite indomitable. There is very little that could curb his rapscallion nature. And true to nature, a deep laugh erupts from deep in his chest at her censure. He certainly has not changed a bit, nor could he imagine why he would.
“Come on now lovely Lynx,” he coaxes charmingly as he siddles a bit closer. “Surely you didn’t expect me to? Growing up is overrated. And frankly, the world could use a little more whimsy and foolery.” As he speaks, a line of frost begins to grow above his eyes until a pair of eyebrows, quite spectacular in nature, begins to form. They continue to expand until they grow horrendously bushy and droop almost elegantly down his ruddy cheeks. “I know you could,” he ends finally before offering her a decidedly salacious waggle of his new eyebrows.
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
Heavens, he was insufferable.
Hearing his thoughts, endlessly chipper and joyous, and knowing that he seemed to see straight through her sullen exterior does nothing but infuriate her, deepening the scowl that tugs are her pretty lips. “I will have you know that I am not happy to see you,” she quips coldly, wrinkling her nose. “I wish you would stop thinking such lies to yourself. It’s annoying to no end to have to listen to them.”
At his next thought, her jaw opens, dual-colored eyes widening in disbelief. “A thing for you?” Her voice is incredulous as she watches him. “Please tell me that you’re joking.” She searches his face, trying to find some sort of clue, some hidden piece of dishonesty, but she can’t. So she gathers together the rags of her dignity and sniffs. “As if I would ever entertain such thoughts.” A graceful shrug.
“After all, we both know that you’re the one who’s always had a thing for me.”
As if she would have a crush on the boyish red stallion.
A crush.
He gets closer and she almost blushes and then dances backward, uncomfortable and uncertain and loathing every second of it. Her face turns stony. Of course he would make her feel like a filly all over again. She’s back home for barely a minute and he’s treating her like she’s a child, laughing and teasing as if they were close friends. As if he had the right to even talk to her, let alone joke with, at, at her.
But then there is ice growing, and she feels the dreadful edges of humor beginning to curl. She does everything she can to keep a straight face, pressing her lips together, but he grows more and more ridiculous by the second and then he wiggles his eyebrows and she breaks. Her laugh is loud and bright, the sound of a girl who never let herself laugh, and her eyes pop in surprise as she quickly contains it.
Her scathing replies hardly do a thing to dampen his good humor, no matter how she protests against such child-like tendencies. And even if she refuses to admit it, it’s just those very qualities that she likes about him. If she didn’t, she would never tolerate him as she did. Would never voluntarily remain in his presence when his own happiness is always so very infectious. And no matter what her accusations, he would never force humor on her (he could, he’d discovered some time ago. But it left an ill feeling in his gut, to force anything on another. Even if it were something so banal as happiness).
“Of course I have a thing for you!” he exclaims with mock affront. “It’s been years, and you've never noticed.” Tossing his head, he frowns with feigned hurt, but the teasing twinkle in his amber eye betrays him.
She, however, can’t seem to contain her own discomfort. Oh ho! Did she actually have a crush on him? Could it be that she, that ice maiden who had so long claimed emotionlessness, felt something? Methinks someone doth protest too much. As she shifts away, hiding her embarrassment behind her gruff words, Fox’s lips tilt a bit wickedly. Especially when her face stills into a mask of indifference. A forced mask of indifference, he might add. And when that laugh breaks over the stony facade, it warms him through, both delightful and lovely all at once. But, as though realizing her own vulnerability, she cuts it short. And oh, he would do anything to make her laugh again
The wicked grin never leaves his lips as he waggles those horribly lush eyebrows at her. Her unexpected laughter elicits a chuckle from him as well, a deep laugh filled with merriment. With the humor still upon his lips, he stretches his neck, shaking the ice and snow from his features before stepping closer to his old friend, closing the space between them once more. Playfully, he reaches his muzzle out, hovering teasingly close to her dark neck before tugging playfully at the locks hanging there. “I love making you laugh though,” he breaths warmly. “Would you really take such an innocent pleasure from me?”
His grin widens then, his teasing turning just a bit more impish. “Although, there are any number of less innocent pleasures, if those are more to your preference,” he quips with devilish salacity.
Fox
Ok but how did I not notice you'd responded to this D: D: I'm so sorry for the horrendously late reply.
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
He is impossible, infuriating, incredibly annoying.
He is a child.
He is insufferable.
These adjectives chase themselves around in her head as she scowls at him, her pretty face pulled into the frown, the annoyance reaching her icy eyes. As she flips through his thoughts, entirely too pleased with himself, she feels a headache beginning to form in her temples. She never should have come back. She should have been grateful for the space and the loneliness that really just meant she was alone.
Alone and without the headache of his laughing eyes.
She hates that his touch causes her to recoil, control slipping from her grasp as she dances away from him, her neck still warm from where his breath had rolled over it but moments before. “You are disgusting,” she exhales, her voice tight with her irritation and underlined with suppressed thoughts.
“And I will have you know that I don’t care for a second about your pleasure.”
Her voice drips with disdain, but her stomach twists as she purposefully avoids the handsome angles of his face, the familiar, laughing curves of his mouth. She should have known that he would have grown up to be as annoyingly good looking as he has. That he would grow up to be charming and stubbornly happy.
Not for the first time, she finds that she is grateful she is the mind reader and he is not.
“Do you have to think such perverted thoughts so loudly?” she whines. Of course, his thoughts are not nearly as perverted as she makes them out to be, but they were at the very least a welcome distraction from the girlish butterflies that flutter in her throat, tying her nerves entirely too tight. She wants to laugh again with him, so instead she scowls, hardening her expression and pulling her nose into the air.
lynx
@[Fox], honestly, how dare you! D:
juuuuust kidding - take your time! fox words are always, always worth the wait.
You are disgusting. The breathy accusation startles a laugh from him, whole hearted and deep bodied. Come on now, she should know by now just how men think. His thoughts are quite positively innocent compared to some others out there. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re dirty enough. But he respects her and her choices, even if he does tease her endlessly about them. Careless and carefree he might be, but he has seen enough of the world to know that the women who wander it are so often treated terribly. Certainly she must have run into her fair share.
Of course, perhaps that was part of the reason she held on to her prickly demeanor so strongly. She could read thoughts, after all. If actions are bad enough, he can’t even imagine what their thoughts must be.
But he is not built to house such disturbing thoughts for long.
Instead he laughs at her accusation and winks knowingly at her, acknowledging the truth in her statement. Hitching his chin up, he allows the chuckle to fade as she informs him of just how little she cares for his pleasure. “Oh ho! But what about your pleasure?” he teases warmly. Suggestively. “Surely you care about that.” His voice drops to an almost seductive whisper then. “Because I care about yours, even if you don’t care about mine.”
He winks broadly before flashing her another faintly wicked grin.
“How does one think more quietly?” he continues with curiosity, shifting slightly closer once more, though this time leaving enough space that she might feel a bit more secure in her separation. “I really have to know, because lord knows I might actually be able to keep secrets from you if I found that out.” His infectious good humor creeps back in as he struggles to keep the grin on his lips contained. “I mean, how else am I supposed to throw you a surprise birthday party?” He edges just a bit closer then, smile widening despite his efforts to contain it. “Or find out if you’re ticklish?” With swift stealth, he reaches forward, tickling his lips along her ribcage before another laugh bursts from his chest.
Fox
It's ok, Fox will teach her all she needs to know :| :|
and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
It was difficult, at first, to be constantly battered with the thoughts of others.
She could feel them pressing into her mind, sticky fingers who cared little about her privacy and her need for quiet. It was difficult to grow up in that roar of thought—constantly intruded and constantly forced to bear witness to the often worst in others. So perhaps it is not surprising that she is as cynical as she is. That she is as distrusting when she has seen how often the thoughts of others contradict their words.
And perhaps why she is so afraid of Fox whose thoughts clearly align with his words.
He is the first, if not the only, soul she has ever met who is so clearly good through and through. Even her father, who she had idolized as a child, had eventually disappointed her—turning from the love of her mother and finding it elsewhere, fathering children who were not her full blood.
No, it’s not a surprise that Lynx is the way that she is.
However, it is surprising how she tolerates his closeness, warmed by his humor and draw in by the gravity of his goodness. She aches for it, in a way she didn’t expect or understand. She aches for a simple life, something that she can almost imagine. Her, kind and gentle. Hime, jovial and endlessly patient. Children running amok—she hisses in a breath, throwing the brakes on the thought.
Children.
Children?
It was a damn good thing that he couldn’t read her thoughts.
The fear of being discovered causes her to stiffen. “I can find my own pleasure,” she says, voice tight, although she’s not sure she’s ever found anything remotely pleasurable before. “Beside, pleasure is vastly overrated.” Again, something that wasn’t quite the whole truth. After all, what did she have to compare?
“No secrets,” a surprisingly harsh whisper. “No one should need to keep secrets.”
Her eyes flash dangerously but before she’s able to stop him, he’s at her side, lips finding the ticklish spot on her ribs. A girlish laugh escapes her, the ice of her face dissolving into something soft and nearly unrecognizable. She skitters to the side, swinging around to face him. For a second, the light remains in her face, something like affection warming her features before she quickly snaps the mask back on.
Yes, that is exactly what he has been waiting for. Her laugh delights him of course, lovely and crystalline, nearly like a child’s, but it is not what warms him through. No, it’s the way the chill of disdain melts from her lovely features, replaced all too briefly by warmth and what could almost be mistaken for affection. His heart jumps happily inside his chest as a silly grin dances across his lips. And even though that icy mask is back in place all too soon, she’d never be able to deny that she did, in fact, feel something.
He loved that she had shown him her true heart, no matter how brief it had proven to be. No matter that she shifts immediately away, once more putting the safety of distance between them.
Humor briefly touches his features as he teasingly quips, “Keep that up and you’ll smack right into that tree.”
He turns surprisingly more serious then. Her harsh admission had not escaped him, and it saddens him that she has known too much of the evil in the world. With a faint half-smile, almost (but not quite, because wouldn’t she just hate that) sympathetic, he stretches his muzzle forward to press briefly against hers. An acquiescence of sorts. “I could never keep secrets from you Lynx,” he murmurs softly in response. “I don’t even know why I’d want to.”
Of course, with Fox, even such heartfelt solemnity can only last so long. Shifting away, he leans casually against a nearby tree as one brow quirks up in wry question. “You know, I do have to wonder,” he begins before leaning forward slightly, as though imparting a great secret. “If you actually know the meaning of pleasure.”
His expression darkens as a mischievous grin tilts his lips. His amber eyes twinkle, though there is a faintly hungry curiosity hidden there. “’Vastly overrated’,” he continues with a chuckle before his gaze focuses once more on her with an intensity that betrays his less than secret desire. “I’m certainly happy to demonstrate if you don’t believe me however.”
