[private] when you're lost; jengerpony

[Vastra]

I never knew daylight could be so violent Things had been… rocky since she has returned to this place, to say the very least. She had shied away from interacting with many of her own kind - as she was still adjusting to the fact that they were her own kind. What could she even say to them? She was a mare that didn’t remember how to act like a horse, a mare who didn’t even know her own name. Not worth a whole lot as a companion. And it was simply easier for her to not fuss with all of that awkwardness. But, of course, she can’t avoid them forever. They’re everywhere, scattered across the whole continent. She hasn't quite gotten used to the fact that she is one of them, that they don't really look all that strange and she shouldn't stare because she looks that way too. It's been a tricky balance of wanting to avoid them and hoping that some day she'll stumble across someone that says just the right thing and her memories will keep flooding back. She shies away from the meadow, feeling too exposed there, and instead wanders in the forest - hoping that here, with the sunlight filtering through the trees, she’ll be able to jog her memory. Even just her own name would be a start. A connection. She must have family here, must have someone that knows - if not who she is - then who her parents were. Her wings are folded and hugged tightly against her body as she wanders in a haze, dark blue eyes unfocused but, at the same time, undeniably angry. It’s frustrating beyond anything she has ever known to be in a half-existence like this. She doesn't know how to handle this frustration or this anger - but what's one more thing not to know when her entire existence can be summed up in those three awful words. "I don't know." VASTRA kastiel x nazaire, wanderer

@[jenger] hope you don't mind me using Vastra!! Feel free to reply to whoever you feel like it <33

[harbinger]

It’s the furthest he’s ever wandered from home, and, to be completely honest, he’s not entirely sure he remembers the way back. He knows the vague direction, and that if he hits the ocean he’s gone too far, but the specifics seem slippery when he tries to grasp them in his mind. There’s a voice in his head that wonders at him if he shouldn’t be more worried about being lost, but it doesn’t really feel like lost yet. He’s only just gotten here and there’s no homesick in his belly, only a faint curiosity as he wanders beneath the branches of brand new trees.

Trees.
More trees.

Maybe he hadn’t entirely thought this adventure through all the way, because if he had he probably wouldn’t have picked a place that was so much like home. Home was quiet forests and enormous trees, the thick cloy of decomposing pine needles and the musk of the ever-damp earth beneath.

This place was also a forest. With enormous trees, pine needles, and spongy ground.

He sighs loudly, softly exasperated and more than a little embarrassed as he considers his oversight. Maybe adventure just isn’t for everyone. His dad was certainly made for it, slipping in and out of shadows, in and out of different realms like it was no big deal. He probably didn’t even realize how cool it was that he could do that. Sometimes old people take that stuff for granted. They get so used to doing it that it doesn’t seem special anymore.

The trouble was, Harbinger was anything but special. Black and gold in a world of bright, soft colors. Tangles of gold forelock that were home to many a leaf or twig, and possibly even a few dead bugs. The wings might’ve been something special if he had any idea how to use them, but in all the years since he’d been born they only hung enormous and limp at his sides. He tried to keep the feathers clean, rinse them in the streams of home and scrub the darkest stains against the moss, but it only ever lasted the few moments he stayed in the water. As soon as he wandered home again, the pale white tips would darken and stain against the ground.

The sound they make as they drag along beside him now is not unlike the way the leaves whisper at the wind. He used to dislike the sound, but after three years he hardly even notices it anymore. Kind of like the feel of a heartbeat or the sound of breathing. Always there, but mostly invisible until you’re specifically paying attention to it. He listens to it now because he’s gotten rather good at feeling sorry for himself, because the whisper-shush makes his dark head drop low and his ears sag and those bright eyes shine with feelings in the half-dark of shadows.

He very nearly misses the pale mare altogether, a wonder since she is so soft and a gentle shade of bright that reminds him of moonlight. But she says something and he doesn’t mind that the words likely weren’t for him, because now he’s captured them in a gentle fist and he can feel curiosity bloom from them. His gold eyes are soft and bashful when he peeks around a wider clump of trees, peering out at her from behind tangles the color of spun sunshine. “Hi,” he says, and that voice is so soft, so shy as he steps around the tree enough that she’ll be able to see all of him - black and gold and those broken angel wings, “what don’t you know?”

harbinger

the current is strong, my arms are weak
but you are the branch within my reach

[Vastra]

I never knew daylight could be so violent She hadn’t even realized she said the words out loud until someone replied to them. Her attention snaps immediately towards the sound of that voice, her nostril’s flaring and eyes widening as she takes a second to register the tone with which this black and gold creature had spoken to her. His voice had been… soft. There was no threat, all the edge in this patch of forest belongs to her and her alone. With a deep breath, she straightens herself up and forces herself to relax. Her initial instinct, of course, is still to snap at him verbally if she isn’t going to do it physically. It’s not really anger that causes her ears to flick backwards in annoyance, but embarrassment. She hates that someone heard those three, stupid little words. Hates how big the answer to his question really is, and yet how simply she can answer it. “Everything.” She spits the word out, full of venom but her eyes don’t focus on him when she says it, as though looking away will make the truth of that single word hurt any less. She’s not lashing out at him, but at herself. How did she become this stupid mare? This bitter wretch who snaps at everyone because she doesn't know who or what to trust. Because she's afraid that every new memory she makes will push those she's lost farther and farther away from her grip. A moment later, however, her dark blue eyes do focus on him. There’s an instinct she doesn’t understand that causes her to trust those with wings inherently over those without. She feels a kinship with them, as though they naturally speak another language that the horses bound to the earth can never understand. And it helps too, that this stallion’s mane looks as wild as hers – tangled and knotted. Her gaze softens, but only slightly. She hugs her wings close against her body, as though they can shield her from this sliver of vulnerability she’s allowing to slip out of her. Why not? She has nothing else to do. That edge is still in her voice but it’s touched with a sadness she cannot erase. “What would you do, if you woke up and didn’t know who or where you were?” VASTRA kastiel x nazaire, wanderer

@[harbinger]

[harbinger]

The suddenness of the way she reacts makes him wonder if he had managed to startle her somehow even despite the dragging of those dirty wings at his shoulders. He feels instantly bashful and ducks his head, those gold-tipped ears drooping outwards as he tries to decide what he should do now. She doesn’t particularly look like someone who is pleased to find themselves in unrequested company, but maybe it would be just as offensive if he left so soon after saying hi. He shuffles awkwardly, and his eyes chance another quick glance at her face in case maybe it has softened towards him.

Oh.
It has not.

He winces when she spits her answer at him like it tastes foul in her delicate mouth, but he still doesn’t turn from her entirely, just takes one single hesitant step back like he would if he had encountered a cornered animal. This feels a little like that, maybe. “Everything is a lot.” He answers quietly, still bashful and feeling scolded by her intensity.

Her attention shifts somewhere past him, and he covertly ducks his head to glance in that direction just in case she has an equally unhappy friend. Like maybe a guy friend with big muscles and a fragile temper. But it’s only them and the relief he feels makes him braver than he has any right to be. Especially when those blue eyes leave the trees to settle like midnight against his face. He cannot help the crooked smile that tugs shyly at one side of those gold lips.

He watches her face soften and marvels at how much it changes her, even just that slight bit enough to soften her edges so she no longer seems a feral thing carved from stone. But her wings stay tight against her sides and it makes him feel like maybe she wants to hide behind them - no, not that. Like she wants them to hide her.

His ears tip forward when she finally speaks again, and though he doesn’t reclaim those few lost steps, it is clear that he would like to. Instead he frowns in a thoughtful way, his brow crinkling beneath those brilliant gold tangles. “I would miss my mom.” He tells her, thinking of Briseis and her gentle way. But it would be worse than that, he realizes, because if he woke up and didn’t know, then he wouldn’t remember mom at all. Not even to miss her. He blinks and that smile fades from his lips, those burnished gold eyes suddenly so sad with the direction of his thoughts.

“I guess that would depend on whether I wanted to forget or remember. If I didn’t mind the forgetting, I would just look for someplace I fit.” He considers this, and his face is a tapestry of open emotion like a window through to his quiet musing. “Remembering would be harder. Maybe I would ask aunt Heartfire, she knows everything.” He says it with such gentle earnestness that even his eyes shine a little brighter, pleased at having such a good idea. Then, belatedly, completely missing the point of her question, “You never told me your name. I'm Benji.”

harbinger

the current is strong, my arms are weak
but you are the branch within my reach

[Vastra]

I never knew daylight could be so violent She doesn’t shift, doesn’t flinch, when he takes that first step away from her. He’s treating her cautiously, and though it’s annoying it’s also appreciated. She doesn’t like being treated carefully, as though she was fragile and might shatter if they stood too close to each other, but something in her knows that she would. It had been hard enough to accept the help of a stranger when her wing was broken, but now without that injury as something to focus on it was just her own useless brain left and she had to focus on the problem she so desperately wanted to avoid. The sandy coloured mare, not one for many words as it is, is stunned into silence as she listens to the stallion’s response to her question. At first, he catches himself when he says that he would miss his mom – though really, that was the least ridiculous thing that he was going to say. Of course she misses her mom – she knows she must have had one, whether her birth mother or someone else had obviously cared for her enough to see her past infancy at the very least. It hurts not knowing who she is and she misses the gap in her heart and memories she believes should be filled with a family she could have been walking by every day and she’d never know. She stares at him blankly, confused by his earnestness, and she’s not sure she has the heart to point out that he completely missed the point. How would he know to go to his aunt for help if he didn’t know who anyone was? Or whether the memories lost weren’t worth regaining? And then, he asks her name. She can’t help it, she snorts in frustration and backs up a small step, shaking her head. Like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. But instead of turning away and leaving him her hooves stick into this new spot. There’s white-hot anger in her but this time the sadness has over come it like a tidal wave and now she’s drowning in it. She can’t use the anger to shield herself this time, it just too much to look at this Benji and hear that sweet voice say those stupid words that shred her apart. So she whispers, dark eyes locked on his face and her heart breaking as she finally speaks aloud the five words she’s been dancing around since she arrived here. “I don’t know my name.” VASTRA kastiel x nazaire, wanderer

@[harbinger]