"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
Words fell upon deaf ears. Clearly if they had been here to see someone they would have said so by now. The closest thing she had to a home lay at the bottom of the seas. Her only family swallowed along with it. The visions of that day played in her mind. Standing upon Pangeas coast once again. Feeling the gentle breeze in her ebony mane, as the evergreen colt inched further into the waves...
Gaze shifted to Maugrim still a ways from her. His dark colors blending into the jungled lands before them. She had wanted to rush to his side but the jagged emotions filling the air had tensed her movements. The waters knew this, creeping nearer until they were pulsing against her dark hooves. Quickly the droplets rose in a reverse rainfall, gathering at her withers in a watered whirlwind. Mirroring the lavender colts wings in size but much wider in shape. Like the sail of a boat, full of wind, they bowed. Her steel eyes still focused upon the only familiar thing she had left. They knew where she wanted to be...
It hadn't taken much effort to lift off the ground and deposit herself beside him. His opposite side to the lavender colt. A quick leap and few strokes of her waterfall wings left the other alone upon the shoreline. For a moment...
A ghostly stallion emerged from the tropical forests. Coming to rest at the winged colts side. Ebony dipped ears flicked forward as he introduced himself and his son. His words were smooth, like a finely crafted beer. Maybe too smooth. Suspicion pitted within her stomach that maybe this was some sort of hoax. Kharon protested against the invitation, convincing her more that this was abnormal. She peered at them from behind Maugrim, ears twisting back. She wished she had possessed invisibility. To disappear into thin air but no instead she harbored wings of water. Still gathered at her sides, lying close to her now like an armored suit. Shimmering in the faint light of dusk...
As the stallion finished speaking and the colts agitation grew, turning to walk off, she pressed her muzzle into Maugrims neck. "We should go, Maugrim," she whispered the words to him in a concerned tone...
The scene seen unfolding before them was becoming tedious and drawn out. The frustration that boils within his chest slowly begins to unravel, the emotionless and calm of his face now gradually strewn with little twitches of his lips, the curl of another snarl threatening to ripple across the darkness of the blood that had dried there. Formalities and pleasantries, laced with ridicule and contempt, did not entertain him. It was fruitless and did not bring him any closer to finding solace within the darkness of the jungle that stands silently behind him. Could this little king not fake it, as he was trying to do? Could he not just pretend, so that they could all go their separate ways? Maugrim’s pearlescent nostrils flare as he continues to try to keep his composure, silent and staring beneath a shadowy brow, as he stands under the intense scrutiny of the winged colt.
Another begins to approach, and Maugrim’s dark eyes slither from Kharon’s (though he still did not know the boy’s name), breaking their intense staring contest. The yearling is dissatisfied at the idea of another showing up to the group, though he is not surprised that the commotion has brought the attention of the ivory and chestnut-crowned stallion. Maugrim stands completely still, his muscles growing tense even beneath his wounds, as the older stallion approaches. Expecting a retort much like the lavender winged colt before him and to once again be met with the suggestion of getting the hell off their island (because Maugrim so desperately wanted to be here in the first place), his ears once again fall into his mane. He does not try to change his irritated stare he gives the new stranger.
Perhaps Azazelle was not used to the treatment they were receiving, for the young girl seems to shiver beside him with anxiety and fretfulness, but Maugrim knows nothing else. He can feel her looking to him for comfort, but she is mistaken – she will not find anything there.
The older stallion seems to be strangely aware of the situation, which brings a sense of apprehension tingling into Maugrim’s mind. His dark eyes flicker to the lavender colt, whose wings bristle unhappily at his withers in subtle response to the ivory stallion’s words. There was something that Maugrim had missed – something important – and it angered him that he did not know what it was. Of course, he probably would never figure out the telepathic abilities of the one before him, who freely gave away his internal thoughts to those in charge.
When the older stallion speaks of the ocean, Maugrim’s demeanor changes for only a second. He is familiar with the ocean (in more ways than these two strangers would ever know), and he narrows his eyes slightly. He agrees with Reilly in his description of the ocean, though he does not say this and remains stubbornly silent. Reilly then names the lavender boy before him and Maugrim’s intense stare finds his, as if now knowing his name somehow unleashed some kind of opportunity – a vulnerability. Reilly offers for the pair to stay, at least for the time being, as well as to make a point to address their sanctity of life on the island.
Maugrim’s stomach boils in its pit as he feels the stare of Reilly directly on him, but he does not let his eyes wander from that of Kharon. He wonders what would happen if Reilly left; would the boy try to inflict more pain on him than what he had sustained in the ocean? The idea makes his heart race, wondering what this winged colt was capable of, and he almost takes a step towards Kharon, eagerly wanting to test his limits. He refrains, but because words dripping in venom pour from the lavender of Kharon’s lips.
Maugrim cannot help but change his emotionless gaze – the fact Reilly is allowing them to stay for any length of time struck a chord in Kharon, and the rage that bubbles up is delicious. A cruel smile forms on the dark of his lips, eyes glittering with mischievousness. The threat that ensues from the boy’s lips makes Maugrim’s skin prick with delight and curiosity – so much anger for such a young creature (much like himself); he wonders where it comes from, how a wounded colt like him would cause so much animosity within Kharon. The boy spits his words fiercely before turning and angrily walking away, and Maugrim’s hooded brows rise in amusement.
Perhaps he will stay here.
Azazelle finds a place beside him and he does not tell her to move away – the water at her sides drip small droplets onto his skin, causing him to shiver. Unfortunately, though with her pleading eyes and soft voice, Maugrim was not intent on leaving. He couldn’t anyway – he had no way of leaving (that he knew of) without the tide lowering. Besides, his curiosity now overwhelms any need to leave Ischia. She presses her muzzle against his neck and instinctively he stiffens, sending her a glare fastened with disapproval (she should know by now that touch was unwelcomed by him), but he does not discipline her. He does bare his teeth warningly and hisses a shhh at her, irritated that she had disrupted his thought process, then closes his lips to his head at Reilly, his stare pensive. Azazelle is a sweet and generous girl, and Maugrim almost feels bad that she has found solace in him.
“Reilly,” he says slowly, his voice like steel as he tries to sound like any other yearling would sound. He respects the stallion for seeing that Maugrim was in bad shape currently to do any real damage (right now) and allows them rest until the tide wanes. “I appreciate your generosity.” His eyes flick to Azazelle. “We both do. We shall leave when the tide runs out, if that is what your kingdom wishes.”
