"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
Her tread is unsure until she feels the permafrost underfoot; too much time has passed though she has not measured it in ways that they have - she guesses, smells how the seasons change in the air, because she will never see the leaves and the snow fall. She pauses the moment the grasses rustle against her legs; she knows what they will taste like but hunger does not stay her eager feet. The little roan was all grown up now but she missed her father dearly and though she could not see, she knew the way home.
Happiness courses through her body, hot and strong. She looks forward to seeing her father and expects to find him near the caves. Roan has a healthy respect for the caves, she knows that things go on in them that only the stallions are privy to but that has never bothered her. To her, the caves are avoided at all costs and they smell of moss and dank. Still, that is where her father welcomes the newcomers to the fold and that is where she goes.
The deeper into the land she goes, the fainter the scent of her father grows. She smells only strangers here but never once is afraid that they might harm a little blind mare who knows their pathways all too well. Roan is counting on their curiosity and sense of propriety to keep them from casting her away. Once, she was a princess of this land and had played amongst the snows. She knew well the chill of the shadow of the ice wall that bordered the tundra - knew it better than most because it was a familiar darkness.
Her roan fur is thicker than most - always has been since her beginning on the cold hard ground; it keeps her warm as she waits them out but the shagginess of her pelt does more than trap the heat in her, it hides the burn-flesh from those earliest moments in the too-small acidic womb of the mother she does not know. The Tundra might have birthed her from its wet snowy thighs for all that she knows. The scars mix with the roan hairs of her pelt, nearly unnoticeable but still there and at long last she is close to the caves and calls out experimentally, “Father?”
Female scents are something uncommon in the Tundra and maybe that’s the reason why the graying man so easily picks it up against all the known ones. Sure he was used to smell Kida and Xiah around and Brynmor is also sure that he would’ve remembered the scent of the mare that had come to the Tundra to bring Hurricane her – his – their child. This one is different and on top of that intruding their lands. In Brynmor’s opinion the borders aren’t there for nothing and if you didn’t have a set of wings to carry you through the sky, you would stumble upon a wall of ice, so why pass through it even if it’s such an huge sign?
The blind man follows her trail. Not the kind of trail that leaves footprints, no, he follows her scent. Like most of the time he was lurking near the wall. Even after spending more than a year in the Tundra he still finds it comfortable to know exactly where it is. And on top of that Brynmor could use the wall during heavy snow storms to shield himself a little from mother nature’s terror. Moving around the Tundra had become easier, but her trail is clear and he can easily guess her destination.
He reaches her when she speaks, calling out for her father. Well, that explained why she had just walked in, passing the border like it wasn’t there. Maybe she had come to visit her father. Brynmor guessed it had to be one of the Brothers – he couldn’t call them his Brothers yet as he had still to enter the caves – but her scent was totally unfamiliar to him. ”Who’s this father you’re calling for?” he directly asks, slowly moving around her to face her. As his eyes aren’t able to take anything in he depends on his other senses to locate her, directing his sightless gaze into the direction he can only guess she stands.
Mares were uncommon but not unheard of in the stallions’ land. Usually there were never more than four of them at a time, more like two at any given moment and they were favored by one bachelor or another - as lovers, if inclined to romantic thought which Roan typically wasn't. The rest were sisters or daughters raised on the sparse cold tit of land and usually traded during kingdom negotiations to strengthen alliances or dumped unceremoniously on the jungle’s humid border. These were all fates Roan had been spared and yes, she had traveled for some reason or another but the tundra was home - always would be to her.
The little mare expects a territorial confrontation; she has squared her little self up to look unintimidating but also to show her own foolish brand of bravery. Roan will not let them scare her from her home or the old smell of her father that blows in on the chill wind. She has some right to be here after all, a long lost princess of the realm returned to them though she has no head for silly titles like that - she was quite simply Ianto’s daughter and came back to find him or word of him. So to say that she had need of wings or ought to have turned back when faced with the ice wall is simply silly - Roan knew the way in and better than most since she had to track the entrance by smell rather than see it for herself.
Unsurprisingly, the blind meets the blind. She smells him long before the snowy ground crunches underfoot and betrays his presence to her. Her head swings blindly in his immediate direction as she breathes in his scent; he is not familiar to her but then, most of the stallions were not even in her father's time because she kept to herself - conscious of the scars from her time spent in the acidic womb beside a twin she doesn't know of (sometimes, in that way that twins have, she senses that she is half of herself more than a whole thing and that there is much missing from her) that left her barren in places and furred in others but her pelt has grown in and the scars mix with the roan of her so that they're hardly visible now. He does smell less of the tundra and more of somewhere else, so that tells her that he is new.
She tilts her head to the side quizzically as he asks who her father is; Roan doesn't expect him to know - he's new. “Ianto, he is king here - no, was…” she amends swiftly, face scrunched up as her blind eyes just stare uselessly. Not once has she wished to see because her father described everything to her but his scent is so old now! “His smell is old though. I don't think he's king any more.” she acknowledges, a note of melancholy in her voice but not so much at the fact that Ianto wasn't king, merely that he wasn't there to greet her.
The only mares he had come across in the Tundra had been girls, two young princesses from the former king. Unknowingly he had now ran across another daughter of one of the previous kings, a king that he hadn’t known. Brynmor had found his place among the brothers of the Tundra – among, he wasn’t one of them yet – under Hurricane’s reign. It had even been the gray male that had found him in the field, that had told him none was useless unless you thought so yourself and had offered him a home if he wanted too. Brynmor had been warned about the harsh life in the Tundra, but after some time to adjust he actually found it pretty comfortable. His coat had become thicker to help him withstand the cold and even though he couldn’t take in his surroundings by sight, he had become to know the Tundra’s lands pretty well.
Without knowing that the other can’t see their sightless gazes meet. He might not be as accurate as she is, but he isn’t too far off. Without nearing her too much Brynmor extents his neck, curving his neck a little he reaches out towards her, sniffing the air carefully. Her scent tells him she belongs here, or had once belonged here, as he could also smell something unfamiliar. The first years of his life had been limited to a secluded corner of another kingdom, after he had spent a year in the meadow and now he was here. Leaving him unfamiliar with everything else that was out there.
She answers him, speaking about a certain king and right away concluding that this Ianto is no longer king. ”Hurricane is our king now” he replies, confirming the thing that she already knew. Brynmor’s ears twist in her direction, waiting for what else that would come, somewhat hesitant even. He isn’t really sure how to handle her, how to behave around her. Before he hadn’t really cared, but somehow his recent purpose and success had brought the graying man some peace. Next to that he’s also pretty aware that he now represents a kingdom, his home to be more exact and he wanted to contribute to that home.
He takes a step closer to her, alert in case she wouldn’t appreciate his movements and ready to move back again if she decides to strike. ”That doesn’t mean that we won’t welcome your presence here. Currently the two former king’s daughters are still living in the Tundra” he offers, voice soft and without a second agenda. If this was once her home, then it still should be her home now, if she wants to that is. ”I’m Brynmor.” If he offered her a place to stay, he should have a name, right?
Roan resembled a shaggy unkempt pony left out in the field too long; that's just how her body had adapted in order to thrive here. She assumes he probably looks the same except on a grander (more normal) scale because she was under the impression that he was not nearly as unkempt as her nor as little. Then again, most were not all bird-bones and thinness beneath their thick hairy pelts like Roan was (that was the mark of Loam’s get - thin little mares except for the big red freak Mordant that was Roan’s unknown twin).
She hears him sniffing and that's when it occurs to her that he might be like her - blind. It is impolite to ask though so she whuffs in the quiet way that horses do to put him further at ease. Roan isn't exactly sure how to behave around him but he definitely doesn't seem threatening and she relaxes her stance a bit, becoming less rigid than she was in that initial tense moment during which they met. He confirms her fears - some other stallion is king here and it seems like her father's name is only in the annals of history now, stricken from their lips and that's why his scent grows fainter on the air by the minute.
An ear shifts uneasily at the sound of his movement but she only responds to it with a muzzle that searches out his own for a brief bump of solidarity. She sighs happily, comforted by the knowledge that she won't likely be turned away if she wished to stay. It is a rare thing, to be sure, that a mare would choose this over another gentler life but some part of Roan knew there was hardship to be faced no matter where she went so why not here? It was a land she knew best and relief fills the thin features of her face, just stopping them short of being lovely. “I'm glad I won't have to go.” she admits, entirely too honest with him. “Oh, I'm Roan by the way,” she adds, chuckling like any green filly would because her father had taught her manners but it seemed that she had forgotten them the first chance she gets to use them - so much for propriety!
12-22-2015, 07:12 AM (This post was last modified: 12-28-2015, 12:58 PM by Brynmor.)
Brynmor
"With my speechless calm eyes."
If you could look through his fuzzy thick coat and the lack of muscles you could see the build of a broad, bulky pony. Just like Roan he took after his mother, a sturdy pony, not too tall but his robustness made up for it. But his form didn’t entirely show that what he could be. Being born blind caused quite a lot of handicaps and one of them was that Brynmor was bound to a slow step, always calculating where to place his hooves in order to avoid bumping into things. He had once trotted, a burst of energy and strange joy during his childhood period, but after tripping over some roots and colliding with the hard rocky ground had been a lesson enough to stop him from trying again.
Once her tension flows away his does so too and he is pleased to notice that she reacts to his silent greeting. His first words may have been not too kind, but as direct as he was he couldn’t help but to ask about this father she called for right away. Brynmor is surprised when her nose bumps into his – not at all aware that she is blind just like himself – and is taken aback by the sudden contact. Although his senses are quite good, he isn’t actually used to touch other horses, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t like it. Without really realising it a smile starts to grow on his lips. The graying blind man doesn’t step away from her, standing comfortable near her, but always alert for any sudden movement she can make if she wants him further away from her. ”I would be surprised if Hurricane would chase away a former princess” he says, trying to assure her that he had meant what he had said. ”And if he had doubts, I’ll stand in for you” he promises.
He wouldn’t want her to be send away from the place that she used to call home. The Tundra had been his first real home and if it was like this to her, who would they be to take it all away from her? Brynmor dips his head slightly as she introduces himself, not aware of the fact that she cannot see him doing it. ”It’s nice to meet you, Roan. And welcome back home, I guess.” A grin spreads on his lips, content with himself and his recent achievements.
"Nothing is coming to rise."
OOC: Ugh, I totally love her <3. We should thread again once Bryn has his sight back
If only they both knew about each other being blind…
She had the same childhood mishaps - trying to jump and trot, only to end up bruising her nose or her rump so in the end, she gave up much to her father’s chagrin. It just wasn’t for a blind horse to go blindly running about and trying to jump things they couldn’t see; even more so for the daughter of a king to go about making a fool of herself for all the kingdom to see, which was why Roan had mostly kept to herself. Maybe that made for a lonely upbringing but she had contented herself with the world she couldn’t see but smelled, and every smell began a story she told in her head.
She had an excellent sense of smell, unaided by any enhancement beyond the fact that it made up for the blindness. Ianto had encouraged her to expand her ability to use smell as a directional tool and somehow, she had managed to bump his nose with her own and maybe luck had a little bit to do with it too. She laughs, decidedly liking his company; “Ah but he doesn’t know me or know that I am a former princess.” Her own mouth is quick to smile, even though neither of them can see it but Roan feels how her mouth is curved in pleasantness, in emotion so rich and genuine that she feels so very at ease near him. She almost takes a step closer but simply settles further into herself and their easy camaraderie. Surprise clouds her face and her voice, “You would?” she is shocked by his offer - by the fact that he makes it and means it.
“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me…” she lets the thought trail off, requiring no further elaboration or explanation but she is touched by his sincerity. It warms her bones beneath all that fur, thaws some of the carefully constructed ice around her heart and endears him to her for what he has said to her - a relative stranger. Soon they circle back to familiar territory after an awkward (for Roan anyway) pause in which she knows she should express gratitude to him but fails to do so because it catches in her throat, thick with emotion. She almost reaches out to touch him but is unsure of the reaction she would get, so she refrains from nuzzling his neck and simply says, “Thank you.”
He is a good ally to have here, she thinks, not sure why she would need any allies but he is a good caring sort of fellow and she can’t help it, she steps in closer to him so that their shoulders can touch and she lifts her lips up to where she imagines his ear to be and whispers, “Thank you, truly.” and leaves it at that - she doesn’t need to explain what for, but he’s given her something no one else has - purpose, is what she supposes it is.
ooc: definitely! they are totally cute together! <3 unless you just want to keep going then speed up time and incorporate the fact that he can see now... that could definitely make things even more interesting between the two of them.
Unlike her he had been alone when he had learned that trotting, jumping and all other things that included going faster than an easy walk. There had been nobody to see him, nobody to laugh at him or make fun of him – well, except for the imaginary friend, but Bryn honestly couldn’t remember anymore if his stupid outburst had happened before or after they met. So his lesson had been without any shame. Sure he kept his little mistake to himself, but there was nobody who could spread rumours about it.
The sound of her laugh is like a joyful melody to his ears and Brynmor decides that he likes it to hear her laugh. It’s pure and without a second meaning, most of all it isn’t meant to humour him. She was different, other than most who he had met and the graying man liked it to have her around. ”You smell more of this place than I, former princess or not, the Tundra has been your home so long already. And there are some brothers around who have been here for decades, no, you shouldn’t worry about that” he tells her, reaching out towards her in a reassuring way. Just like hers his lips are adorned with a warm smile, unable to hold it back, yet also a little hesitant by the strange feelings that swirl inside of him. Other than with Hurricane and Corin he had never had a pleasant conversation with another, and those conversations had been more formal than for the sake of a pleasant conversation only. And although she didn’t seem to him like a damsel in distress – and Brynmor absolutely wasn’t any hero material – he couldn’t help it but to feel like he had to try. So he nods, unaware of the fact that Roan cannot see it. ”I would.”
Her question doesn’t surprise him, heck, his own words had even surprised himself, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t meant it. ”Because I know how it feels to get kicked out of your home and I wouldn’t want you to experience the same. If you want to, you should be able to stay here in the Tundra” is his honest reply. Nobody should go through the abandonment like he had and if he could, Brynmor would prevent such thing from happening to others. His reasoning is noble, yet the gray man would be lying if he said that he didn’t like female company. He calmly listens, ears perked in her direction, to be able to catch any reply she might have for his words. Brynmor’s lips curl up to a smile once again, glad to hear that she accepted his offer.
His body momentarily freezes as he notices Roan’s movements. The crackling of the snow, her scent that reaches out to him, the warmth that radiates from her body. It is the calculating and careful step that keeps him where he stands, her movements don’t express any hostility and he sighs deep as her body touches his. Unknown feelings make his heart beat faster and his stomach flutter. Brynmor reaches out towards her, carefully, before gently moving his nose to ruffle lightly through her mane. ”You’re welcome” he almost inaudibly replies, like a soft and content sigh.
"Nothing is coming to rise."
OOC: *facepalms* So far for wrapping this one up xD.
“I’ve been away too long though,” she admits, as he tells her that she smells more like the Tundra than he does. There is a trace of regret in her voice, she knows she should never have left but curiosity had got the better of her and although blind, she had trusted her instincts and her sense of smell and went exploring anyway. Her head inclines towards his as he tells her she doesn’t have to worry, her smile genuine and sweet, “Thank you,” and she breathes it out on his skin more than she says it aloud, her lips pressed against what feels like his neck and they slide down to nibble at what feels like his shoulder, affectionate and happy.
It strikes her as a little odd that his company makes her so happy and she’s hardly been here long enough for that to be acceptable, but then she figures, what is truly acceptable beyond their own happinesses? He furthers his likability by telling her his backstory in as many words as he does and her heart goes out to him, making her suck in a breath at the thought of him being kicked out by those he was meant to have implicit trust in and she cannot help murmuring her own apologies for those cruel enough to do that to him, her lips still caught up in the growing shag of his fur where he may not be able to hear them. “I do want to,” she tells him, “It’s the only home I’ve ever known and nowhere else could ever feel like that for me.” Her admission is shocking, even to her - what mare in her right mind would willingly subject herself to the harsh unfriendly extremes of the Tundra or the attentions of the stallions that live there? But Roan was once a princess here, never mistreated or harmed, and she thinks that could still be the case - that she’ll not suffer here, or be ridiculed, and while not entirely welcomed, she might be allowed to live out her days here in the cold quiet peace of the land.
She can feel his nose in her mane, ruffling the hairs there, and she smiles, equally as content as he seems to be and that’s how they pass the time, in companionable quiet and short, nervous, but affectionate touches. Roan thinks she almost knows him as well as she knows the Tundra, however well that may be, and she is ever glad of his company.
ooc: just wrapping this thread up so we can start a new one in which bryn can see, roan and i just love him! <3
