"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
03-10-2017, 03:52 PM (This post was last modified: 03-10-2017, 03:53 PM by Djinni.)
djinni
The icy water rises up her legs and out again with the tide, but Djinni remains still despite the cold. It is a way to measure her breathing, to empty her mind of thought. The gulls overhead jar her from mindlessness eventually, their shrieking calls enough to break even the strongest of mortal concentration.
Djinni’s sea-green eyes blink back to focus as she shakes her head, backing away from the sea and onto the dry grey sand of the nerinian coast.
Her pied coat is crusted with salt and her frosted mane remains brittle as she moves, soaked and dried in the sea. She’s a striking figure, but most of the way through a pregnancy she is no longer the lithe and elegant animal she had once been. Still graceful, she is a bit slower, and she walks along the shore with a rather aimless intent, the wavering line of her hoofprints indicative of her lack of hurry.
She’s been coming her more often lately, mostly on dark nights such as this one. The iron grey sea that spreads beside her is in constant motion, and far out in the water she sees familiar sleek shapes buffeting their way through the choppy water. They know she is here – they have seen her – but their high beckoning calls do not sway her. Not anymore, not like they once did.
She has swum in dark water; she would not do so again.
A kick to the inside of her belly distracts her from more somber thoughts, and the grullo mare pauses, looking up at the sliver of moon. There had been nights like these in Nerine before she had left, dark and cold and lonely. The sea caves had been dark and empty, and she tells herself she had liked them that way.
She had been empty then too, of course. But some things don’t need more salt water poured onto them.
Ahead, there is a shadowy figure beside the ocean, and Djiiini continues forward without hesitation. She has seen him before, both beside Nayl and in the woods over Sylva.
“@[Lior],” she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It is distracted much more than it is dismissive, and she tries again when she asks: “I hear congratulations are in order. You and Nayl are expecting in the spring?”
current appearance: slim build smoky grullo tobiano sea green eyes visibly pregnant
He is black marble under the eyes of the silver moon. The salt air lifts and tangles the knots in his mane, beckoning him to the water for a gentle kiss with frigid lips. His face is smooth and stoic beneath the pale gaze as he inhales the air with heavy lungs. He thinks of Nayl, their child. He knows he should be standing near her as she sleeps but tonight...tonight she had seemed to understand his desire for an evening walk. The dragon in him could hear her rhythmic breathes, the calm of her ferocious blood even so at this distance.
He was never too far.
The leather clad male catches the sound of another to his rear. The heavy head swings to look over a shoulder as he is met by Djinni. The genie mare of smoke and foam, magician to Nerine, ruler of Sylva. He watches her with the still unbroken appearance. Lips thin and pressed together, forelock lifted by the occasional salty breeze. His name upon her pretty lips conjures nothing but when she mentions the child, his and Nayl's babe to be...well, he does not fight the lift of his lips into a soft smile. His silver eyes move over her swelling form, the way she shifts her weight in her walk. She too is to be a mother. "May I have the honor of congratulating you as well, Djinni? I know you will have a fine child." His jowls feel rusted, aching slightly with the lack of conversation he typically has but he speaks fluidly now as his pewter gaze drinks her in.
The moon light glitters across the dark sands, stretching their shadows behinds them as though it were day. Lior moves, swivels, so he may face the genie. A respectable amount of distance is given as the dark man is wary to crowd another. Have you decided if the child will be raised in Nerine or Sylva?" The question, though possibly invasive or even abrasive, is asked with no qualms from the inky man. His question is met with a direct gaze, his mind calculating the security it would require to ensure a safe home for his own child and queen. Lior has never bothered to respect feelings as much as he has personal space. He asks candidly, directly, assertively. He did not know better.
The brooding male advances only a small pace towards the familiar woman. Long limbs easing over the dark sands as he watches her, looking down to meet her eyes. He notes how they like sea glass beneath the moon's hue. A single ear moves within the dark mane towards her, trained and listening for her reply whilst the other was ever roving, always listening for anything that lurked just beyond the reach of the moonlight.
Even in the impossibly-beautiful Beqanna, Nerine still stands out. But it is not the soaring cliffs or pounding sea the makes them memorable, Djinni thinks as she looks at Lior. It’s that almost everyone that lives here is utterly perfect.
As she comes closer, she has time to look him over from beneath the hank of her stiff forelock. Tall, dark, and handsome – the Queensgaurd has a definite type. His eyes are grey, grey likes eyes above the reflection of a full moon, grey like she has to avert her own to the inland. Their shadows are there on the pale marble, hers with an exaggerated belly, his with the bulk of great leathery wings.
Lior mentions it too, congratulating her on her own obvious condition. “Yes,” She says with a chortle, the sound half-way between sarcasm and genuine amusement. “Thank you. I hope so, anyway.”
“I’m not sure,” She says. “I thought I’d check with Nayl, see what she thought was best.” Djinni has no idea how to be a mother. She is utterly terrified and goes each day trying her very best to hide it. Her skill at lying is nearly without peer. That is the fortunate result of an inherently charming personality and schooling since birth in the proper way to conduct oneself in every situation. The supernatural enhancement is merely the cherry on top.
She shows none of those emotion in her expression or tone; there is no hint of them anywhere. The grullo mare appears entirely truthful, appears to be the perfect subject who will go so far as to put her queen before her kin. With Nayl she is different (argumentative and playful), but there’s no need for her to be anything but cooly polite to Lior. But she wants to, because it is fun, and she asks him:
“Was that you volunteering to be a babysitter?” she teases, “Stillwater and I will appreciate it.”
His name no longer stings her tongue, it slips out as easily as those it is couched between. Yesterday she had chosen to accept it. There will be no more secrets. No hiding.
Except the hiding Djinni does, of course, avoiding contact between herself and the black stallion at all costs, careful to wear the loveliest of wings when they do have to interact. Feathered or scaled they are always huge, and the wind just always happens to be in her favor. Everyone but Stillwater will know he’s going to be a father – everyone but the black stallion himself.
current appearance: slim build smoky grullo tobiano sea green eyes visibly pregnant
03-11-2017, 10:31 AM (This post was last modified: 03-11-2017, 10:32 AM by Lior.)
The steel of his eyes drift to where hers linger. Their dark shadows mingle, creating an amusing blob of sharp wings and round bellies. Quite the unappealing shadow creature. An ear still trains to the mare as she speaks, his gaze shifting from the splotch of darkness to her carefully carved features.
Lior watches how her face hints at what her words do not vocalize. Djinni is a new mother and Lior can tell that just beyond the cool porcelain mask is a touch of giddy uncertainty. He is a quiet, observant man. Talk less, listen more. "Yes." The dark man agrees with the fog and foam mare. "Nayl would be best to ask, I suppose." He merely nods with quiet resolve. If Djinni thought to confer with the queen, then so be it.
A few moments of silence fall between them, the gap filled with the sleepy roll of waves, the occasional hoot of a wayward owl. Lior is finding some peace in his soul in this small moment. "Hm, a babysitter?" The edges of his lips turn upward in a small crest when she mentions it. The other ear swings forward at the mention of Stillwater's name. Lior had yet to really meet this other man though his reputation was starting to precede him. But Lior knew if Djinni had chosen to lay with him then he was at least a decent man at the very least.
A low exhale of breath leaves his scarred lips as he listens to the lapping waters against the dark beach. Perhaps it would be a benefit for the children to grow together. Lior does admit to himself that he is looking forward to the sounds of his child's laugh, the patter of tiny hooves through sand. "And your Stillwater, I imagine he shares your elation. Are you having a boy or a girl or are you waiting to see?" Lior knows she is fully capable of knowing but whether she has chosen to accept the knowledge is another matter. Perhaps she wanted it to be a surprise. The dark man could easily ask the same for his own foal but he knows he would rather find out alongside Nayl at it's birth.
He smiles, and the expression is reflected on Djinni’s dark face as well. She doesn’t really mean it; children are always best raised by their parents (and perhaps with the help of their older siblings). Or at least she had thought so until Luster’s observation had forced her to consider parenting in a far less abstract way.
With the kingdom, she’s been able to foist off responsibility on Stillwater. Sylva is a quiet place, and there is little needed of a monarch. The same will not be true for a parent,. And the idea of being ever-watchful is already draining. She’ll have to make sure it doesn’t fall off a tall rock or drown in the lakes, she’ll have to make sure it eats and sleeps and becomes a valuable member of society.
It never occurs to her that she might foist it off on someone else, let alone a stranger.
She has made her bed, and now she will lie in it, even if means she must do so alone. Lior reminds her of that as he suggests Stillwater is equally elated. Djinni makes a noncommittal hum in the back of her throat, but answers the question asked by the winged stallion. “I’m not sure,” she says, “I’d not thought to find out.”
It seems a strange thing to not have thought about, but she truly hasn’t. Despite her efforts to bring abstract to concrete, the grullo mare has yet to think of the thing growing insdie her as its own self. Its more an extension of herself, if anything, but Lior’s casual inquiry makes her think.
“A boy,” she says suddenly, having wished the knowledge after a moment of deliberation. “It’ll be a boy.”
“I’ve never had a child before,” she finds herself telling Lior, “Have you? Are they very much trouble?”
current appearance: slim build smoky grullo tobiano sea green eyes visibly pregnant
A time would come in the near future where the dark stallion and painted queen will need to discuss the responsibilities. She will be queen ever after and Lior? Well he supposes he will be the caretaker. He would never ask Nayl for any less. She was a born queen. In fact, Lior finds a flutter of excitement ripple through his bulk at the idea of spending time, teaching, playing with the child.
Who would have suspected the carved marble of a man could be moved by a child? Certainly not he.
His features return to their typical place, stoic and undetermined as she mentions that she had not sought out if the sire was happy. Perhaps their rule of Sylva, their child, all in efforts of control...to create a legacy? Lior would not pass judgment for the mare was far smarter than a beast such as he. For a moment he wonders if it was his place to ask. Djinni was a queen after all and he was a mere Queensguard.
He reminds himself of his place daily.
The mention of a boy-child conjures up another small smile from the inky depths that were his lips. "A son indeed." The male is pleased to hear it. Perhaps the little one will be painted like his mother (he has not seen Stillwater and therefore has no other reference). But it is when the genie has asked of the other children.
The bastard creatures of sin.
All hints of emotion slip away, the carved black mask replaces the ghost of a smile. "Yes...some ages ago." Lips become tight, silver eyes gripping her in a moment of barely contained rage, sorrow, pain...but then...then he remembers that all of that is gone.
Over.
They had died out with the memory of Gunsynd.
Good fucking riddance.
Lior composes himself, relaxing the muscles of his jaw and neck. He inhales...he exhales, steadying the fire in his belly. "You will be an excellent mother, I am sure of it-" He speaks matter-of-factly in the attempt to return to the casual air of their moonlight conversation, "-I am here if you should need any assistance, Queen Djinni." The break of ease has returned him to his formalities. He has not been offered the liberty to address her in an other manner. Silently, the stallion builds the wall in his head, brick by brick. He did not want her to see what was in his mind.
"I should hope our children will be able to play together, provided Nayl lets it out of her watchful eye." Lior muses though he is not sure how well Nayl will take to motherhood. Nonetheless. if duty calls then he will take over where she leaves off. This child was wanted...loved already. Lior would not screw this up.
It does’nt occur to her that he might be bound by ideas of their positions, that he might think Djinni’s crown makes any topic off limits. Perhaps war plans, but children? She’d have laughed and reassured him at the thought, if only she had known.
But she does not, she has only his words to go by. His words and his expression, and she watches the soft smile of moments ago fade in response to her question. She considers reaching out, apologizing for bringing up when she suspects must be a tender wound in his memory. They are strangers though, and she keeps herself back, though there is clear concern in her glassy green gaze. She pushes it away when he does the same, grateful that he has wrestled his demons to submission.
“Call me Djinni,” she says to him with a laugh, “After all, we both serve Nayl; Sylva isn’t important here.” In Nerine she is only a mage, only another coastal face. “I’ve not been around children since I helped raise my own siblings; hopefully things haven’t changed too much in fifty years.” Her age reveals a bit more of herself but she doesn’t have a reason to hide.
Lior mentions Nayl’s watchful eye, and Djinni smiles: amused by the idea of Nayl as a mother. She’ll be excellent, Djinni is sure. The Nerinian Queen is capable of doing anything she sets her mind too; Djinni firmly believes that. “I’d like that.” She says to Lior, “I’m not if there are others expecting children this spring, but I think it’ll do them good to play with others their age.”
current appearance: slim build smoky grullo tobiano sea green eyes visibly pregnant
From his birth, he has ben groomed, trained, beaten. He forgets little and speaks even less. Djinni is queen but he would refrain from her title since she has requested it of him. Mercury eyes do not miss the flicker across the delicate features of the mare. Lior finds himself comfortable around her as she seems to be around him. Under the night sky, with the touch of cool air, he breathes deeply.
"50 years, you say?" The edges of his lips turn in a slight curl as he notes this fact. She is young, supple and dainty before his eyes but she is far wiser than her appearance. She would know many things and Lior could benefit with a few insightful conversations. Ears are still forward to the woman as he listens to her words flit like lightning bugs beneath the moon. "I am excited." His voice is still low and monotone but he is smiling more openly now, reflecting his emotions across his scarred lips. "I should hope to meet you small one as well one day." He adds with a bit of a nod, already assuming the Sylvian queen will be a fine mother.
