"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
It’s terrifying and exciting to strike out, truly on your own for the first time. Saying goodbye to tearful parents, or just one parent is more difficult that you imagined when you were little and chafing under your mother’s thumb. Still you say goodbye because it’s time to be free and discover the price that must be paid for that freedom
Seale had been born and raised on Icicle Isle. It had often felt like the cold lived inside her. There was never a novelty in the way her breath had frozen into crystal clouds, and snow was not a play thing but an impediment that tried to starve and smother you.
Then one day she realized that she was grown up, she didn’t have to stay and be cold anymore, or return and make that terrible muscle cramping swim. So she said her goodbyes and swam away from the Isle without any intention of coming back.
She never strays far from the coast as she travels, water, the sea especially is in her blood even if she is just an ordinary girl. While she has been bred to love the water, it is a coastline less frigid that she would personally prefer. In time this journey brings her to the ruined edge of Tephra and the guttering volcano, she would find her mother’s scent here had it not been burned away, the two of them just missing one another thanks to Seale’s dallying and the war that had waged in the kingdom not long before. Instead of lingering, the dark young mare turns her eyes toward the islands, in particular the northernmost one, hurrying across the sandbars before the tide makes the trip more difficult.
She doesn’t know where it is she’s come, or what kind of people dwell here. Her mother has warned her of dangers unspecific, like she was afraid even to speak of what waited out in the world and so for a moment Seale hesitates on the jungle island’s beach, but she has never learned fear or pain as her mother has. So she shakes herself dry and whickers curious and exuberant. “Hello! ” Seale does not leave the beach, her lavender eyes brightly scanning the length of pale beach and the edge of the vibrant green tangle.
she told me she was shallow; her rivers run so deep if I could only be the boat that leads her to the sea
Adria’s newborn twins are so unlike one another that it feels as if she’s constantly being torn apart. She’s lucky that Eva is here to take her son out past the breakers and into deeper waters where he belongs, so that she can keep dry on land with her daughter.
Ionia, much to her mother’s confusion, hasn’t shown any sign of water affiliation. Though the filly that trails at her hip is covered in every shade of blue from tip to tail, she’s a firebreather and so far nothing else. Her birth and powers were unusual, but not exactly disappointing to the mare who’d given birth to her. After all, Adria had an elder brother who was similar.
They meander through Ischia without much of a purpose, stopping here to taste a wild hibiscus and then pausing there to learn about the difference between macaws and cockatiels. The jungle seems quieter as the evening drags on, the air heavier. Adria can sense that an infamous spring storm is approaching even though the skies above are clear, hot, and sun-filled. As mother and child inspect a clutch of eggs, an unfamiliar tune pierces through the common island chatter, lifting both Adria and Ionia’s head.
“Vini avèk mwen.” The bright red mare commands her daughter, and the two make their way back to a trail that will lead them just shy of where the newcomer waits.
“Ah Hello!” Adria calls out from afar, steadily making her way down the dunes. Ionia keeps close, already used to the way the sand shifts and then grows more firm the closer they get to the ocean. “Welcome, welcome to Ischia.” She beams, eyes nearly glowing through the long strands of her forelock. As the two halt comfortably near Seale, the dame’s gaze turns inquisitive. Her lips jerk into a subtle arc.
“I am Adria, guardian of these waters, and this-” She reaches back to nudge the filly tucked into her shoulder, “-is Ionia, my youngest daughter.”
The ombre blue girl peers up at Seale with wide, crystalline white eyes. “Please, won’t you introduce yourself? Tell us why you’ve come?” Her mother asks.
Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me
The sight of the red mare and her blue child puts Seale in mind of days spent similarly trucked against her own dam's pale side, her pelt growing ever darker in contrast to the beautiful tobiano’s fading grey. She has not been on her own long enough to miss Agnieszka the way she will when she faces long nights on her own in her new home. Without the exhaustion of adventure to drive her into sleep she will begin to notice the solitude and perhaps she will be sad and guilty, having left her mother all alone. But for now she only remembers being very small and the proud thrill of now being fully grown and able to do as she pleases.
The red mare is friendly, though Seale really did not expect anyone to be otherwise. She has always been sheltered and has not often encountered any bad tempered persons. “Adria, Ionia, thank you. Ischia is beautiful!” Truly she’s never seen anything like it, accustomed to her frigid birthplace and the more temperate environs of the eastern mainland. "I am called Seale." Her voice is steady and without shyness, pronouncing her own name carefully for the benefit of the pair see-lee, but not in a condescending way. In all honesty she doesn’t like to be called ‘Seal-y’ or some other such butchery of the lovely name her father gave her. "I'm from Icicle Isle. I was from there anyway, but I'm looking for a new home somewhere warm and new." A pause, a bit of anxiety in her lavender eyes. “I’ve never lived anywhere but there, and I don’t know if you have room for anyone else…” How does one ask someone she’s just met if she can move in? It seems like a very odd thing to do. Not something mother ever explained.
Her dark ears swivel to catch the warm sound of the waves and then back to Adria. She does not appear nervous, only trying uncertain. She has always been something of an outsider in the isle, because of her mother, but she wants so much to be part of something that she has chosen for herself.
she told me she was shallow; her rivers run so deep if I could only be the boat that leads her to the sea
So far her family’s existence on this isle has been a quiet and undisturbed one. No one who previously called these waters home had come to challenge for it back or otherwise. So in that way she and Seale are similar. Adria had not expected the young mare to be aggressive, and apparently Seale hadn’t expected to be met with aggression.
This is a wonderful starting point for them both.
“You’ve come a long way then.” Adria nodded, moving forward from where she stood to close what little distance there was left between herself and the other island-born horse. A black cloud rolled in at her back, filling up the sky and casting a dark shadow above the mainland forest. “Impeccable timing.” She motioned with her eyes towards the oncoming storm, stopping shoulder-to-shoulder with Seale.
“Jwenn frè ou la!” She called out to Ionia, who swung her thin body around and nodded before cantering off and up into the distant safety of the jungle. Then her Nereid mother turned back to the traveler. “During these types of storms we gather in caves,” She shrugged, nudging the other female in a gentle motion that suggested she should follow wherever Adria led, “safer to wait out the angry rains.” And as if the sky itself had heard her, it responded with a cracking arc of blinding light.
Now the whole island seemed dark and alive. The Nereid slipped up the shore and kept a pace she felt Seale could follow if she wanted, weaving south through swaying treetops and glossy leaves that blew into their path. Thunder boomed and the wind howled; rain fell as she passed a dark waterfall. Not long after that, the treeline broke and a small mountain - what was once the old volcano that made this island - rose up and gave them a view of the churning skies. “Here we are!” Adria found herself having to shout, smiling back at Seale with a hysterically passionate look.
The base of the mountain opened up as she neared it, and gaped at them both with a mouth covered in hanging vines. Adria slipped through them and glanced back to see if Seale would follow, wondering what the girl would think when she entered. At first it would seem dark, but the path before them wasn’t exactly a total blackout. Down the dank, damp corridor was a faint light. “We should be just fine in here.” Adria spoke to her in a high sort of whisper now. The sound bounced in an echo around them. “Would you like to go further, see the hidden beach? I’d like to know more about why you left Icicle Isle, and then I can tell you more about my plans for Ischia. Maybe we could be the perfect fit for each other.”
Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me
@[Seale] The mountain she's describing is located in the very middle of Ischia's map; I left two links for descriptive purpose on the words "mouth" and "beach"
Whatever reply she plans to make regarding her journey is blown away on the wind that pushes her forelock off of her face as Adria turns to face the darkening sky beside her. She has seen storms before but the rapid approach of the tropical squall surprises the young mare and she moves after Adria without thinking about it. The lightning flashes against the dark wet leaves around them as they pass into the jungle. Water pours from the sky and spills off of broad dark leaves to splash down on the northern born girl. There is little time to be anxious about the dark jungle or the boom of thunder as they move swiftly and finally break into a gap in the trees so that the dark sky can loom over them. The rain is trying to drag the clouds mistily to the earth but the wind resist and whips them back skyward.
Adria’s voice just makes it to the dappled mare’s ears and she drags her eyes from her surroundings and picks up her pace. The exhilaration on the face of the other woman calms Seale’s nerves and she smiles as she hurries toward the verdant mountain. Storms are dangerous but she has never seen someone so happy in the midst of one! Why not though? The rain and the light, the drumbeat of thunder, the race against nature did set her heart racing. Why not enjoy it?
The curtain of vines envelopes Adria and Seale looks at the tangle quickly before stepping in after her. At first there is only darkness but after blinking rapidly there is enough diffuse light to show she the outline of the passage and a shadowed Adria waiting for her. “Yes, please, I have never seen anything like that.” The girl whispers in return, while Adria’s accented words are still rebounding. She will follow wide eyed when Adria leads deeper in but for now she willingly begins talking softly of leaving her birthplace. “I grew up in Icicle Isle because I was born during the plague and my mother was afraid that I would not survive in Nerine. My mother has a very nervous disposition and the Isle is so barren...” She cannot help but think how different Ischia is and how much Agnieszka would hate it! “It was easier for her to stay there as the years went on. I wanted more than snow and ice, and she needed to have a life beyond me and my missing father. So here I am, and I am happy to answer any other questions you have.” She is more eager to learn about Ischia from the vermillion mare who speaks a foreign tongue and trusts her daughter to go to safety on her own in the face of a storm.
she told me she was shallow; her rivers run so deep if I could only be the boat that leads her to the sea
The love of a dangerous seaborn storm comes from a life lived on Ischia. Every turn of the year they’d appear, like old friends to knock on the door and keep you company, and in fact one of Adria’s earliest memories is of running behind her mother to the safety of these caves. She hardly feared them anymore. Was it strange that she admired them, actually? Emulated the violent nature of the weather and how it brought growth and tranquility afterwards?
Ah, her personal thoughts are for another time. Right now she and Seale have come to rest for a moment in the cool, damp dark of a slender passageway. The walls of the cavern are softly drip, dripping. They slant in a barely noticeable arc until they meet one another to form a pointed sort of roof, too black for Adria’s eyes to see. Perhaps bats roosted there.
“Hmm. My mother was more or less like yours.” Adria recounts as the two mares walk further. The echoing clatter of their eight hooves combined make a nice rhythm. “Her mother, my grandmother, ruled this place when it was still a kingdom. And then one day she disappeared. I think closing herself off from others was my dam’s method of protecting herself from ever feeling that kind of pain again.”
Thoughtful, Adria led them one way and then the path curved another. For a few moments more the females walked in pleasant silence, coming upon the entranceway to the hidden beach rather suddenly.
Their arched passage was now a doorway, open wide to reveal a slim crescent of white beach that sloped gracefully into an impossibly aqua-tinted pool of water. Stalagmite crystals grew up from the bottom but only pierced the surface at the opposite edge, where no other beach could be found. The source of light, surprisingly, came from above. This old, dormant volcano still had an airy chimney that let dim rays of sun filter down and reflect off the pools surface, like some earthy skylight.
“I always found this place so peaceful. Almost a shrine.” The seamare told her guest whimsically. Adria’s honey-gold eyes flicked towards the waters edge, where Ionia could be found resting. She was about to ask the girl where her brother was when two large, shadowy flickers of movement darted between the submerged crystal growths. Luath was in the water. Of course.
“My intentions for Ischia are to make this island a safe haven for mares. I want this place to be the picture of relaxation; a veritable garden of eden for visitors and members alike. If successful, Ischia would boast a few females who would… entertain any male counterpart they chose.” Here she laughed in the back of her throat, a hint of mischief glinting in her gaze, “But of course this wouldn’t be expected of all my ladies-in-waiting. The sole idea is to not encourage stallions to make this place their permanent home.”
There. As plainly put as she could manage, ribboned with an elegant smile afterwards, Adria finishes her explanation and calmly waits to hear if Seale will have further questions or objections.
Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me
