"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
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
Lands visited, homes inspected - and yet there was still the north. It had been the only place he’d ever truly called home, the place where he belonged - and then things had happened there, and things had led to apathy, and then the other things… those he didn’t want to think about… they’d kept him away.
By now, he’s decided not to let those things ruin his feelings towards it. Hyaline is not the same without Kensa, and though there are no hard feelings against the new ruler, he just doesn’t feel like making it his home again either. Just as there is hesitation in him in if he should stay on the Isle while Jesper rules it, he hadn’t wanted to stay in Nerine with Heartfire, nor did he feel particularly attracted to living next door to Castile - or next door to Icicle Isle, and always returning there like an iron needle to a strong magnet.
So perhaps he should just stick to the magnet anyway. After all, Beryl didn’t exactly leave the place either.
And so he travels north. His body obeys him when he calls upon it for dragon wings; large, icy-white appendages that carry him through the sky. He feels strong and wonders if he should attempt a full shift - no, not yet. Passing Taiga swiftly, he already notices that he doesn’t know how to land very well, and he stumbles a bit when he lands on the southern Nerine meadow, black claws automatically catching the shock that his horse legs might not have sustained.
With a quick shake he’s back to himself / this little experiment has to wait a moment longer. Somewhere safe. Somewhere someone can keep an eye on him.
Like a home.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Neverwhere] boo
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
There's an awful lots of dragons in Nerine, lately. Ones that shift, and ones that don't, ones that spit flame and... and this one? She doesn't know about the silvered roan that lands clumsily in Nerine, raking her ground with sharp black claws. He was covered in ice the last time she saw him, standing with her and the Champion, trying to smooth the troubled waters between them. But today Brennen has made no such over-zealous calls - not that she is aware of, in any case - and so she wonders on his purpose here. If he belongs to the Isle, which he smellt of so strongly then, why land here, so close to its Southern shore but still with the Nerinian strait to pass over?
That her lips are twisted into a slight scowl as she draws nearer to the scaled stallion has nothing to do with him specifically, though he may not know it, it is simply the shape they find most comfortable. What was his name again?
Oh, yes.
"You missed Icicle Isle by a long shot, Leilan. Can't you tell granite from snow when you're up in the clouds? I'll give you a hint, it's the big white thing to the north."
He has no reason to know the she is joking and most take offense to her barbs, which is understandable. She has never judged someone too harshly for being angered by the insults she slings at them - the words are meant to draw a reaction, after all - but she is fairly confident that he will not react as others do. During their brief introduction, though she had largely ignored his input at the time, he had been more than ready to throw her poor manners right back at her. Most likely, she supposes, smirking because he is as little willing to control his tongue as I am.
She imagines he is not well liked.
Neverwhere
...
@[Leilan] hi, can we pretend i'm not a slug and that you just posted this? lol
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
Neverwhere should know what it’s like - blurting out everything that comes to mind when it doesn’t concern him what the consequences would be (so, basically always), he is not always well-liked indeed. Nevertheless he could consider other people’s feelings when he is in the mood, hence his quick shift-back upon landing. However, he’s not under the impression that she had missed it - especially when it’s her natural scowl greeting him.
”Aww, I missed you too, Neverwhere.” Sniffing as if she’d said the most beautiful thing in the world, he gazes at her with a humour that doesn’t at all fit his touched-my-heart pose. ”I just figured we might need to discuss that pretty, big white blob of yours - since it is technically yours.” He rolls his shoulders, shakes his crest lazily to rearrange his mane, even though he knows Nerine’s wistful winds well enough that he shouldn’t have bothered - but he just likes to do things unhurriedly.
”You see, I distinctly remember handing the pretty white thing to Jesper, and now I can’t seem to find him there. Can you tell me who leads the residents there, these days?” More serious now, he looks to the Nerinian queen as if that’s her fault - he would not blame her for Jesper being taken, but he somewhat does blame her for the lack of action from Nerine’s side: to ensure leadership was, even if temporarily, continued. A lack of leader in these times could prove dangerous- ultimately, he is concerned that it could rip him of his home base, even if he was up there in the north as much as he spent time in the south. It’s something he doesn’t like the sound of; in fact, he’d rather lead it again than lose it to someone he doesn’t know and perhaps doesn’t trust… however long until Jesper returned, of course. He doesn’t miss being tied to one place to ensure its borders are secure, and whatnot.
”You’re not playing favourites, are you?” he says then, more playfully as he grins to her and nods to the redwoods not too far south of them. He knows there was some form of attention needed with that place, of course. Had for once decided not to stick his nose into that wedge. Anyway. He turns his attention to the milky-eyed mare, ever curious. After all, how can he weigh one potential home against another, if he’s not given all the information he needs on which to base his decisions? For example, what Neverwhere is like as a queen, and what she thinks of her icy territory?
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Neverwhere] While he wants to know very badly what she thinks, I kinda feel like he sounds more accusing than I wanted him to, sorry (:
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
"Oh, I am definitely playing favorites, Leilan, and it's not you."
She snorts, amusing herself. Her attention is pulled in many directions, and the ice dragon's has not been one of them. The trouble over Taiga consumes a great deal of her at the moment, though, as yet, little has happened on that front. But then her frown deepens, though not for his scolding tone which she ignores. Rather it his question about Jesper that concerns her. Where has he gone? They don't know, there is so much to do and all she does is fall behind.
"Wolfbane took Jesper. We tried to stop it but could only help Brennen, and then he went off after them both. They should all be in Loess by now." The thought of it makes the rough drawl of her voice more ragged, "So, I suppose nobody is leading them at present. Not directly, anyway.Why, are you interested?"
02-26-2020, 01:27 PM (This post was last modified: 02-26-2020, 01:29 PM by Beryl.)
There had been a whispering in her ear while she played in the forest with Halcyon, and at first she had ignored it, but it grew insistent and then, angry. Though the Shadows rarely spoke with anything that one might consider feeling, the practiced listener could find those distant emotions. She feels anger pooling in that deep place inside of her where the Shadows connect to her, speak with her, and, at last, she stops her games and sits up, face growing still and stony.
fiiiiiire
Dark eyes flicker, and she scents the air, but there is nothing on the air to suggest the flames that have upset her shadows. What can they mean? Beryl smiles apologetically at the young tiger, but her face is clouded with confusion, concern. What do you mean fire? There's no fire here.
the placce - you ssaid - rememmber
The place. What did she tell them to remember?
"The Isle!" she gasps, "Halcyon, I'm sorry, I have to go." Take me there. Now! Without another word of explanation, the darkness wraps around her and for a moment, the forest seems too bright, so bare of its shadows as they stream towards the young lioness, her face lined with worry. She is gone in a second and the forest's unnatural brightness fades away around the striped boy.
In a blink, she is stepping from the darkness back onto the cold sandy shore of Icicle Isle. At least, it should be cold, but fire and ash rage across it. How can it be burning? Ice and snow melt into boiling rivulets and she dances around them tentatively, anger she didn't know she could feel bubbling as madly as the ashy, muddy, waters flowing into the sea. The birds are flying away - those that can - and small animals flee in fear, trapped unless they can swim across the Nerinian Strait between the Isle and the Mainland. Beryl runs opposite them.
Leilan!
Jesper!
She knows Jesper has a daughter here, but she does not know if the small pack of Hellhounds Leilan spoke of have stayed. What if they're trapped, and how could this happen. An explosion ahead of her makes her skid to a halt as flaming debris lands about her, singing her fur, a great fiery tongue extending from the sky, and when she looks up, a dragon. Her heart sinks into her stomach.
Leilan! Take me to Leilan!
The darkness is uncomfortable around the flames, but it comes, undulating and flickering in the same way as the hungry fire, and when it fades again, she is running hard across the cold, open, plain of Nerine towards two figures standing stark against the grey sky. The mare startles at first seeing a lion running at them, then takes an offensive stance with bared teeth and narrowed eyes, but Beryl has no time to heed the warning, her focus is entirely on her father.
"Leilan! The Isle is on fire! He's burning it!" She barely stops in time to avoid colliding with him, her sides heaving with her run and her panic and her anger. The bald-faced mare stops cold from her ready attack at the words, though her expression doesn't change.
"What?" her rough voice is nearly a hiss, but she leaves no space for Beryl to answer, is already turning, running for the northwestern cliffs, and the yearling watches her go, confused, without even knowing who she is. She turns back to Leilan.
"It's a dragon! The whole thing is on fire, why would he do that?" Like the mare that has run off, she bares her own rather more impressive teeth, "How can he burn ice? We have to stop him!"
And then she's gone again, folding herself into darkness that deposits her back in the flames because she knows Leilan will come, and he will fix this, but she can get there faster. Her paws touch the now-warm sand and she is running, eyes streaming from the sting of smoke and sulfur, in search of a dragon.
02-26-2020, 03:54 PM (This post was last modified: 02-26-2020, 03:55 PM by Leilan.)
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
Wow, let’s talk about friendship and brotherhood. Castile is definitely out of his inner circle by now. Amazon Prince, Nerinian male resident, dragon-kin… even the claiming of Icicle Isle - none of it connected them these days.
Polar opposites, ice and fire are. He’d frequently enough mentioned - though long past now - that the fire dragon got worked up too easily, needed a cooldown.
This was not what Leilan had in mind when he said that.
The fact that a fairy screwed with the male now roaring above did not soften the ice-covered stallion. There were limits. Burning his home - the only place he ever had named home, even if he wasn’t an official resident since returning- was the limit to his ability to understand the what, how, or why. The willingness to understand, gone.
Mid-conversation with Neverwhere, the palomino girl busted in with the news. It was just about that time that the smoke became visible from where they stood, and then Beryl was gone. ”Fuck.” he’d told Neverwhere, still a little shocked. One moment he was peacefully telling her she needed to look after her stuff - he’d definitely toyed with the idea of just claiming back that island, instead, and was just about to tell her - the next there was an idiot trying to burn snow and granite.
And prey. And the food that prey would eat.
And Beryl. And Jesla.
And who knew who else: the Isle had many residents who preferred solitude as compared to other bustling kingdoms… how many of them would be able to save themselves?
”Fuck you, Cas.” He mumbles more to himself than to Neverwhere. Once, he’d loathed the idea of a full dragon-shift. The ability being new had kept him from trying to bite more than he could swallow, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
And then, poof - Beryl disappears. ”Beryl! Stupid cat!” but she doesn’t hear him in her shadows, and his annoyed shout flows into an irritated roar.
Instead of an ice-scaled stallion, a silvery, red- white and ice-spiked dragon wings himself to Icicle Isle in something very close to cold rage.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
| 
