"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
There was so many diplomatic changes going on around her, Loess changing there leadership abruptly has created chaos within the southern sector.....well at least chaos within Sylva. They never agreed to be a territory under anyone aside from Bane, they would not be bossed around by some random equine. The dapple queen rolls her eyes at the thought of some stranger marching into her land, telling her what to do.
She shakes her pelt, removing the proof of irritation as she does so. With Sabrina safely in Sylva with her father, she decides to head out to the forest. She does not actually remember a time that she had left the comfort of Sylva that was not for a diplomatic reason. It was well before her pregnancy, and well overdue.
As she travels towards the forest, the denseness of Sylva thins out, and the stink of Loess hits her nares. It once was a scent that she admired, a scent she was birthed into, but with recent events it only flares up her anger. With a roll of her eye she breaks into a gallop, the faster she reaches the forest, the faster she can forget the kingdom issues...if only for a moment.
As the trees thicken once again she knows she is in the forest, and the fresh scent of pine fills her nare. A smile tugs at her lips, the familiar area she has not visited since she was a child. If not to escape her duties for a breath of fresh air, perhaps she could find someone to recruit, or at the very least speak with. She slides to a halt once she reaches the heart of the kingdom, her breath is heavy as she attempts to regain control of it. Her optics scan the horizon, hopeful someone will appear.
it's not by bone but yet by blade can break the magic that the devil made
He'd already been tired, but the quest had taken even more from him both emotionally and physically. It wasn't every day a man lived his own death. It had felt so real. And he'd chosen it. He wasn't sure if that made him stupid-- no, it definitely did. He had always been too selfless, too giving. Too trusting.
His attention was gradually won over by the sound of hoofbeats racing towards the part of the forest he was standing, taking a rest in the shadows where he couldn't infect his children. Where he could stay away from others. Which meant he was moving again, walking another direction at a casual pace so he wouldn't infect this one either. The quicker strides from the other reached his area before he was completely out of sight and he cast a brief glance over his shoulder.
He stopped and faced her, relaxed in the shadows beneath the trees. She smelled like she may already have been infected, so he chose not to rush off this time, curiosity getting the better of him and the lack of companionship. Often, the only ones at his side were his two adopted youngest children, but they were with his eldest now to give him a bit of time to himself.
For a long time, he nearly didn't speak. He often didn't say much, but when he did, it held deep meaning and had a purpose. Small talk would never be something in his skillset.
"Enjoying your run? I take it you're already sick?" he asked, his voice quiet and deep and blue eyes bright in his dark face. He still didn't want to spread it if he'd gotten it wrong and she was still healthy.
and it's not by fire but what's forged in flame can drown the sorrows of a huntsman's pain
It didn't take long, as she hoped, another appeared. A stallion, his fur was mattled with grey specks, a handsome fellow. A smile tugged at her lips as he approached, his voice was deep, as he spoke.
Enjoying your run? he asks, obviously the stag caught her running through the forest. A brief moment of freedom, for a moment she was able to forget about everything beside the vast opening before her. He continues on to inquire if she was already infected.
Her head turns to look at her own body, small patches of fur that had fallen out. She didn't mind having caught the plague, though she only wishes she could have kept her fur. She turns her gaze back to the grey stags Nothing beats the wind in your face. She pauses scanning him over, he didn't seem to have missing fur....but unless he was ballsy she couldn't imagine someone approaching her unless they too had the plague.
And yes, unfortunately, although I refuse to fear the plague. I can't let it get me down. She responds with a confident smirk, she knew the risk of exploring beqanna freely, but she refused to leave her home. My name is Mary, and you are? She inquires, the scent of a kingdom lingers on his pelt, though she cannot decipher which one.
it's not by bone but yet by blade can break the magic that the devil made
She looked at her side in answer, and his eyes followed to note the lost patches of fur. It didn't detract from her appearance.
Their eyes met when she looked back at him again. "Nothing beats the wind in your face." He almost smirked a little, a small lift in the corner of his mouth, but his amusement was more obvious in the subtle softening around his eyes. She reminded him of Hawke, a wild and beautiful girl he'd met in a time he'd needed someone most. A kind heart to look passed his pain.
"And yes, unfortunately," she answered, admitting easily that she had caught the sickness. His muscles relaxed and he shifted, standing a little more openly now confirming that he wouldn't infect her. His own symptoms were less obvious; a wild fever he controlled easily with his ice, the occasional cough that was only just beginning to gradually get worse the longer he was infected.
His interest bloomed when she said she refused to fear the plague. That she wouldn't let it get her down. She was a bold person, fearless, and his smile grew. Then she introduced herself, Mary, and he dipped his head in respect and thanks.
"Ruan," he replied back. He studied her for another long moment, then glanced to the side and back again, his faint smile genuine. "Would you like to join me in another run?" He hadn't run with anyone since Hawke, since Aranea. Not as horse, anyway. Wolf was a different story.
"I could use the exercise," he jested in a deadpan tone. Even infected he was clearly impeccably fit.
and it's not by fire but what's forged in flame can drown the sorrows of a huntsman's pain
He gazes at her like she was someone he once knew, lost in the memories that flashed before him. He barely smirks at her response to running, the brief moment of freedom. When she mentions that she had been kissed by the plague his body relaxes, and her suspicions are confirmed of him also being infected. He must be one of the kind souls who don't want to spread the disease, unlike the equine who shared it with her.
She admits that she does not fear the plague, for if she did, what would her life be like? Living in fear? A prisoner to the safe lands? She may feel pain, and her beauty diminished with patches of fur missing, but no one could take away her freedom to travel as she pleases. Aside it all, she had to protect Sylva, to build her home into a feared place.
After she inquires of his name, he responds with Ruan. Charming, a name that suits him, a cheeky smile appeared on her maw before she stuffed it back into hiding. She gives a small dip, a friendly gesture between the two. Would you like to join me in another run? he asks, and she quickly perks up. She hadn't raced with another since she was a child, with that black stallion she met in the meadow...
She usually found herself running alone, but she didn't complain, the wind that screeched in her ears left her mind a blank slate. The thoughts that nagged a mile a minute were silenced for the brief time. I could use the exercise he says, breaking the silence. Although he asks to run, his tone is blank, and she wonders if this brings any joy to him? Regardless, she would never turn down a good run, or a chance to show this stag what speed really is.
With a smile on her face once again she gives a nod and reaches her neck out to gently nip his shoulder Okay, but I won't go easy! Her voice is peaked with excitement, and with it she bolts off in front of the pair, she weaves in and out of the trees and a laughter escapes her maw that echoes throughout the forest. It was moments like these that she sought out, a chance to be Mary, and not the queen of Sylva. To meet someone who didn't know who she was, and didn't want any information on her kingdom, or afraid to overstep a boundary. Her head flicks back to the stag who was just behind her, her head start was barely an advantage. Come on slowpoke! She teases, egging him on, and with it her pace fastens, she extends her legs to cover as much ground as possible.
