"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
have i been lost? inside myself and my own mind
hypnotized; mesmerized by what my eyes have seen
The pale sunlight shines down, illuminating everything that is not shaded by the looming cliff as the sun slowly rises in the morning sky. The warmth exudes from the sand as the rays of light reflects off of its granules of rock, leaving the surface shimmering with an allure all its own. The once barren trees were once again beginning to blossom with life, with gentle flowers blooming at the end of their spindly branches, coloring the landscape with their hues of pink and yellow. It was fascinating to see one season shift and mold into the next, carrying with it its icy chill or its radiating heat.
Her mind no longer drifted away with childlike wonder; she was beginning to change. With glowing youth, the now year old filly had begun to deeply contemplate more serious ideas, her mind often distracted by the whispers of war that trickled from ear to ear throughout the land. She understood war; she had wandered far enough from the invisible boundaries of her own swelling to have seen the blood spilt, the carcasses strewn about and the echoing wails of pain and despair.
She was caught in between childhood and adulthood, a captive of war in her own mind. She could not go on obliviously, frolicking in puddles of mud and rolling around in the golden tendrils of wheat that had since sprung up as winter came to a close. She had already seen too much, and its nightmares held her tightly in its grasp. It was now that she found herself lost in her own thoughts once more, the gentle emerald grasses lapping softly at her delicate skin as she wandered deeper into the foliage that lined the cove.
It was not uncommon for her to sneak away, as sometimes her loneliness was best remedied by adventure - but something deep within her bones told her that she was not alone this time.
A huge, shaggy brown form moves through the landscape of the Silver Cove, head swinging from side to side almost rhythmically as he walks. For the first time since his abduction to the Chamber two years ago, Siberian has ventured past its borders. There is no doubt in his mind that he will return there when he is finished with his present business; it is home now, his home and chosen willingly. If there was in truth a raven watching him to report any escape attempts, it would find itself quite bored in its task. His family outside of Beqanna no doubt thought him dead after all of this time, and, well, he basically was. The carefree and innocent colt that had wandered away from the family fold was long gone, replaced by what he had become: a weapon of the Chamber, with indelible blood on his claws and soul. Zayn had seen to that, and the invasion of the Chamber by the assembled forces of the Gates and its allies had ironically driven Siberian deeper into the dark kingdom's embrace. He was theirs now, body, mind, and soul. There was, however, a slight problem, and it needed to be dealt with. He needed balance. Balance between how he had once been while shapeshifted, a horse wearing a bear's skin but none of the instincts; and the present situation, which was a berserker's near-complete lack of control. The Budyonny had judged it best to work on this away from the Chamber and the aftermath of the invasion, and so he had stepped out, further than he had planned, because if he wasn't mistaken this territory didn't even belong to the Chamber at all, but was one of the Valley's herdlands.
This wasn't bad per say, since the two kingdoms were allied, but it hadn't been in his original plans. He manages a brief shrug of large, furry shoulders, more interested in dealing with the bear in his head. It was growling, demanding a target, demanding blood, and it didn't care whose. They can scent something, another horse, and the bear snatches away control to barrel towards whoever it was. It turns out to be a yearling filly, no doubt a Cove resident (and he'd heard there were rather a lot of those!), and the bear lets out a ferocious roar at the sight of her. It would have lunged for the girl, no doubt causing injury if not death (and a "diplomatic incident" that neither the Chamber nor the Valley would have been too pleased with), if Siberian had not managed to mentally force his way back into the captain's chair before it can separate her head from her neck. In his mind's eye, he can see the bear, glowering from a distance but not daring to challenge his reassertion of control. He considers shifting back and eliminating the risk completely, but how would he ever regain total control if he made a habit of doing so every time the bear gave him trouble? The transformed stallion offers the winged girl an ursine grin, doing his best to look friendly after all of that. "Apologies if I scared you....I don't have as much control when shapeshifted as I'd like to, " he admits, matter of factly rather than ashamed. "I'm Siberian, by the way. " Waiting for her response, he mulls over the bear's reaction to being muzzled. Usually, it put up more of a fight than this. Did it secretly have the same soft spot for children that he did? Perhaps this was the key to harnessing it; perhaps she could help him. He looks at the yearling with a deeper interest at this thought, hoping she wasn't too frightened.
have i been lost? inside myself and my own mind
hypnotized; mesmerized by what my eyes have seen
It happens all so quickly.
Where she had at once been lured into the comfort of the forest thicket with the soft hum of bees and the gentle chirps of the various avians that nested above, it was now replaced with the deafening, heart-stopping roar that echoes behind her. She turns her head to look just in time, dropping her petite frame closer to the ground as she shimmies frantically away from the massive, talon-equipped paw that strikes out at her. She cannot muffle a squeal; though she manages to dodge imminent death, her dark hide of silver and black is now marred with streaks of blood that slowly pulsates and seeps onto the surface of her pelt. He had managed to maim her, but only slightly, and the adrenaline within her surged.
She tucked herself away between two tightly knit pines, seeking a way out - she could not fly; she knew if she tries she could get caught in the branches - she could run, but the grizzly's angry, fiery eyes told her he would pursue. Her wide doe eyes stare at him, frightened, her heart pounding tumultuously in her chest and that is when she sees a change in his eyes. The aggressive melted away, replaced with what she would almost describe as glee (as thought she did not know it, he was certainly happy to be back in control of himself). She tucks her obsidian wings closer to her body, recoiling away from him as his voice shifts from one of ferocity to one of friendly kindness. She stares at him, in awe but also in disdain.
His grin unnerves her, and she finds herself balking at his presence. He had just been lunging at her and now, here he was, his voice casual and silky smooth. It sent a shiver down her spine - she could not deny that she was intrigued, but the adrenaline coursed through her veins as she stared hard at him. She had never seen anything like him; nor had she ever come across a heaving, monstrous bear in such close proximity. And to have it speaking to her? Having been nurtured by some of the most brutal in the land, she was slowly growing a thicker skin, and though her childlike mind was surfacing and she was desperate to ask him every question she could, she watched him indignantly and with a haughtiness she had seen others do but she had not yet attempted herself.
"You could have killed me - you tried to kill me; why should I tell you my name? What is wrong with you?!"
She could still feel the faint tickling sting of the faint scratch marks on her hide. She felt trapped; caught between thick foliage and a massive, bipolar bear that would surely attempt to slice her in half at any moment.
Well, her being frightened after their close encounter didn't seem to be an issue. He would still have to work to soothe the girl though, as she was quite angry at him. Not that Siberian could blame her, honestly. Had their roles been reversed, he wouldn't have been too happy at some random predator showing up, attempting to take a piece out of his hide, and then trying to make nice with him. He wishes it hadn't happened, wishes that he could have prevented the bear from hurting the yearling. The shapeshifter was going to have to do some groveling with this filly before she would be willing to help him; well that was fair enough. He lowers his furry brown head in a gesture of remorse and embarrassment, willing to indulge in a bit of groveling to move things along and hopefully win a better regard for himself from the young pegasus. "I'm sorry, " he repeats. The Budyonny decides that honesty might be the best policy here, raising his head back up after a moment and resuming his half of the conversation. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts and decide what was safe to tell her and what was private information.
"I'm not actually a grizzly bear, I'm a horse that can shapeshift. But when I am this, I'm not alone in my head. Some shapeshifters can wear their other body like a glove; I'm not one of those. I was, once, when I was even younger than you are, but now it's often a battle over who will be in control: myself or the bear and its instincts. I'd shift back, and no doubt this all would be easier in my horse form, but I am trying to learn to control, to have a permanent balance of it and myself. If I transform back, the bear is gone completely, and I won't be able to do that. " She doesn't need to know *why* he has changed in such a way with his ability, she's not a Chamber resident; she doesn't need to know how he has been conditioned over years by his master to have become this. He notices how she is looking around for an escape route, and lowers himself down to the ground to try and reassure her further. "You aren't in any further danger, child. I can promise you that I think you're not a big enough mouthful to bother with, and I'm the one in control now. If you don't want to give me your name, that's fine; I understand. " Siberian would attempt to tend to her scratches, but he is no healer, and he seriously doubts that the girl would appreciate him licking her cuts clean.
have i been lost? inside myself and my own mind
hypnotized; mesmerized by what my eyes have seen
As he began to drone on, she seemingly forgot to conceal her stunned reaction of disbelief - and disdain. Her wound still faintly tingled as her capillaries attempted to cease the flow; it remained as a constant reminder against the blank, droll surface of his overbearing tone. She began to lose focus on his words and instead focused on his pictures. His massive, thick appendages, with claws sharp enough to tear flesh with ease.
His course, mud-painted coat, which seemed matted after being drudged around after days of rain. His snout was shorter and less pronounced than her own but held a more worrisome set of teeth behind his moving lips. Her doe eyes focus on his thin lips and the way they form each word, eventually rousing her from her own thoughts and reminding her that he was, indeed, still speaking.
Evidently, her body language spoke volumes - he now moved closer to the ground as acknowledgement to her discomfort. She eased, but only slightly. It only took one swift movement for him to lunge at her, even from the ground floor of the thicket, and her instinct told her to remain wary. He speaks again, and this time, her expression contorts into one of disapproval.
"I am not a child," she insists indignantly, the silver and black feathers that line her developing wings ruffle slightly at her side as she adjusts them. She knows of how fond Kirin is of her own wings, and so she has learned to use them to further accentuate her words and movements. They are mesmerizing simply for being wings attached to an equine figure, but hers go beyond that.
As she ages, her feathers have begun to slowly fade away from their inky blackness, creating an ombré of silver and coal. She knows of their beauty, but perhaps her ego has been stroked one too many times. Nonetheless, they are her distraction, one that comforts her in the presence of the monstrous bear - a quiet reassurance that surely, if he tried anything again, she could escape. "My name is Misra. Why are you here?"
03-07-2016, 10:15 PM (This post was last modified: 03-08-2016, 05:27 PM by Siberian.)
The filly's eyes become gradually blanker the longer he speaks, and Siberian can feel irritation beginning to creep in. Other than her bristling over being referred to as a child, it's clear that she hasn't heard a word the bear-shifter has said. Perhaps staying in the Chamber while he tried to tame the bear would have been the better option. If it was true that the presence of a child somehow might lead to a better handle on controlling his ursine counterpart, well there were children back home. Children that he already knew.....children that were far more polite when spoken to than this little Valley spitfire. He wonders just how much more attentive she might be if he ripped one of those pretty wings in half as a warning, then takes a deep breath. The Valley is an ally, he repeats mentally, a calming mantra, until he no longer feels the urge to shake the pegasus filly until her bones rattled.
Such casually violent thoughts had once been foreign to the Budyonny, but when you were essentially raised by a psychopath, you tended to pick up a few things. She finally tells him that her name is Misra, though by now he's not sure if he even cares what her name is. If she'd listened to him, she'd know why he was here. He lets out an exasperated sigh, then repeats the salient points to her, being careful this time to use her name, now that he had it. Referring to her a second time by her young age (and she was a child, all yearlings were), he thinks to himself, would only set her off again, and Siberian is still wanting to get on her good side, gods help him. He decides to switch tactics, put the ball in her court, and see where that gets him. "If you'd rather I left, if you still think that I'm a danger to you, just say so. I'll be on my way back to where I came from, and you can forget all about your unfortunate encounter with the not-so-cuddly bear. " He rises back up to his feet, slowly, and half-turns as if to head back the way he had come.
have i been lost? inside myself and my own mind
hypnotized; mesmerized by what my eyes have seen
It is not difficult to see the oversized mammal beginning to bristle with irritation, and it causes her muscles to tense again - she is unsure of what he might do, mostly due to his rather unreasonable attack only minutes ago. She eyes him warily, her deep brown eyes filled with uncertainty as she studies every muscle that shifts beneath his thick coat. Her feathers ruffle slightly as she draws up her wings to her sides, expanding them as far as the thick foliage would allow. She was trying to seem much larger than she was, but she was still but a child - though she was beginning to slowly fit into her more feminine form, she was still petite and small and could not hold up to such ferocity.
She can see the way his dark eyes flash dangerously, before simmering down to a soft, meek flame. His sigh is hefty and it startles her, causing her to draw back further away from him. He seems to quietly contemplate his next move, and stubbornly, she ponders to herself, he'd better. Surely there would be consequences if he were to attempt to make her his next target a second time. The idea seems far from his mind, though, as he utters his words softly to her. If you'd rather I left, if you still think I'm a danger, just say so.
And so she does.
"I do think you're dangerous - you just tried to kill me," Her voice is steady, but it after much practice. She had seen much blood spilled in her fragile childhood already - she did not want to appear weak where others had been as hard as steel. "or the other part of you did, I don't know. But you don't have to go." She concedes finally, drawing her thick obsidian wings tightly to her sloping, thin ribcage. "Just .. stay over there and don't touch me."
03-08-2016, 10:23 PM (This post was last modified: 03-09-2016, 12:24 AM by Siberian.)
Well, he'd asked for her honesty, and she'd given it. And having the evidence right there, clawed into her tender skin, she is correct. He is dangerous, and he knows it as well, even before encountering her in this unfamiliar place. The thought brings no shame to him, not anymore. The bear-shifter is a weapon, and he is accepting of that fact. But when the weapon is two-edged, it can strike unintended targets, cause collateral damage. As the bear had struck at Misra, before he'd managed to stop it. If she doesn't want him to leave, he won't. But, now that their initial conversation is over with, he's not sure where to go from here. He could apologize until his fur turned blue from the effort, and she likely still wouldn't forgive him. Siberian would have been surprised if she had accepted his apology, since, in truth, he was the trespasser here, he had injured her and not the other way around. Still, it had been an attempt for conversation, a failed attempt, and he is glad to be done with it. He is not good at groveling, and he has no plans to acquire that particular skill, not even for his master or his monarch, neither of which is this girl. Hearing that she does wish him to stay, he decides to do as the yearling asks in regards to his close proximity to her.
Moving a short distance away from her before sinking back down to the soft grass of the thicket again, he rests his dark eyes back upon Misra, head lowering to settle upon his forepaws. Siberian lets out another sigh, not from anger or irritation, but simply because of how surprisingly good it felt to allow himself to relax, now that the young pegasus seemed to be doing the same. They were making progress, at last, and that was also good. The moment doesn't last long for him, however. Lifting his brown head back up, he speaks again. "The bear didn't fight my retaking of control, when it usually does. I don't know if that is because you are....younger than we are, or if there is some other reason I was able to step back in quickly enough to prevent it from doing worse to you. If this is the reason, I'm not all that sure how to put it to use to be able to work in tandem with the bear, rather than one of us constantly fighting the other. I don't think dragging a foal around with me in the middle of a battle is the best idea, which I'm sure you'd agree with? " He feels a bit of hope that she might have an idea, and then wonders why he is crazy enough to be expecting advice from someone he'd narrowly managed to keep from mauling to death. Advice that was physically impossible and also rather unpleasant sounding would probably be the average horse's response, but the Budyonny hopes that it won't come to that.
have i been lost? inside myself and my own mind
hypnotized; mesmerized by what my eyes have seen
Finally, she listens, and though there is still a part of her that remains wary, she soon grows tired of the tension rolling between her shoulders as she allows herself to ease considerably. He moves away from her and maintains a distance that is comforting to her, and slowly, she begins to lower herself to the ground. Her forelimbs tuck themselves gently beneath the weight of her chest plate and her hind legs delicately fold as well. She has grown tired from the abrupt rush of adrenaline and it leaves her mentally and physically exhausted. Though she was stubborn, her youth certainly counted against her stamina - and being terrorized by an aggressive bear was undoubtedly stressful.
She is quiet for a long moment, her ears gently twisting and turning as the forest thicket begins to fill with the soft chirps of the crickets and the gentle coo of avians nesting above her head. She focuses only on him, but she takes it all in - the caress of the gentle, still icy evening breeze as the sun begins to set, the way the distant waves lap at the shore in a rhythmic motion, the way that he seems to lose himself in thought with a furrowed brow. She observes, but listens still. She is not distracted; simply immersed. He looks to her after concluding his monologue with an inquiry, and her doe-eyed gaze meets his.
Studying him for a long moment, she surrenders to her own discomfort as she turns her slender neck, gently preening her own silvery feathers with her teeth. In between her nestling, nuzzling and primping, she speaks.
"Is it me ..? You .. I mean, that thing - the bear - it wanted to kill me. It didn't pull back; you did." She eyes him pointedly now. Though she was young, she was more mature than her time on earth foretold. Her life thus far had not been easy, and she had been exposed to much living among incestuous murderers. She still had so much she did not understand, but she had come to understand more than her share. "Maybe you have more control of it than you think. You just need the right motivation. You have to keep trying. I mean, if you hadn't .. I might not be here right now."
03-12-2016, 08:53 PM (This post was last modified: 03-12-2016, 09:16 PM by Siberian.)
The night sounds begin to reach his ears as the dusk falls, sounds that aside from the lapping of the Cove waters are familiar and relaxing. There were many birds that nested in the Chamber's pine forests, and their evening chirps had comforted him on many evenings when he was first-come to what became his new home, when he was still a very young colt, bereft of his family and with only Zayn for company. The loneliness he had felt in those days was long gone, but the memory of those birds singing their chicks to sleep, when he pretended that they sang to him also in the absence of his mother doing the same, remained a fond one, even if he didn't look back on it very often anymore. Siberian watches from his new "nesting spot" as Misra settles herself at last, seemingly relaxed enough around him to risk being in such a reclined position. She is apparently restless though, and the bear-shifter watches curiously as she begins to preen her wing feathers like an overlarge, hooved bird. His gaze follows the path of one silver feather as it comes loose and floats to the ground haphazardly, before lifting back up to the pegasus girl. Her next set of words, delivered after she thinks deeply about his own prior statements, rock the Budyonny back on his metaphorical heels. Was she right? Was there no actual soft spot behind the bear's giving way to him? He remembers how they had been of one purpose in battle, with the bear's instincts working in accordance with his ability to think and plan a strategy that a purely wild animal simply could not boast of.
Perhaps that was the true key, perhaps it recognized that he was its master, as Zayn was his. He tilts his head to one side as he considers this option. "Perhaps you're right, Misra. Maybe I've been looking at this all wrong. " From the mouths of babes indeed, he chuckles to himself. Siberian focuses his attention inwards now, deciding to put this new theory to the test. He can picture the bear lurking in his mind's eye, and thinks words to it, a normal tone at first that develops into one that is cold, stern and allows no argument, a deliberate echo of Zayn's manner. (We are one and the same, we need each other, especially in battle. But you will never harm a child again, and you will never again try to take away control of our body without my consent. I am your master, not the other way around, and I will cage you so deeply within my mind that you will never experience another moment of awareness. Ever.) Though he can sense the bear's mental grumblings, they are subdued and quiet (and rather brief in length), as if it dared not offer any further protests, lest Siberian's threat be carried out and it was never again allowed even the tiniest sensation of being. It is quiet in his head now, and he turns back to Misra, a smile slowly carving its way across his ursine muzzle. "I think that you might qualify as Beqanna's youngest genius, Misra. "
