[open] we used to be giants

[Tarian]

Ashhal hadn't been as easy for Tarian to find as he would've liked, but the gray pegasus found the other eventually. The pair had exchanged a few words and those had seemed enough to settle the decision that they would travel to Sylva. He didn't expect the darker gray to be thrilled with the prospect of traveling to the adjacent territory but Queen Oceane had asked Tarian to visit and the Champion didn't intend to make this trip alone.

The whelp from the Pampas had been enough of an experience that Tarian knew he wouldn't have minded not undertaking another "diplomatic" trip again for some time.

But what the Queen asks is what Tarian will do. There is a deep sense of loyalty to her and to Loess that is driving him forward now, reminding him to keep his mouth mostly shut and that once they exchange a few words with Sabra, they can return home. His blue eyes glance back to assess to see where the other winged brute is. While Ashhal manages to keep out of the periphery of his vision, a dark shadow (almost constant) shadow tells him that the stallion is still there, probably wearing the same scowl that he had left with.

As the spires and turrets of imperial Loess fall behind them, a forest starts to rise in its stead. The leaves start to blaze with a brilliance that earn a brief look up to the cathedral branches and Tarian finally stops. This was the border of Sylva. Knowing not to venture in any further, the lighter gray lifts his head and waits for Ashhal to come alongside him. When he finally does, Tarian trumpets out a call to announce their arrival.

@[Ashhal] @[Sabra] but also open to any - have a horrible starter

[Ashhal]

I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

Tarian had assumed correctly when he imagined Ashhal still wore the same scowl he had found him with earlier that day. He hadn’t wanted to be found, but the other pegasus seemed to have an uncanny knack for finding him anyway. It had certainly done nothing to improve his mood though.

But for all of Ashhal’s many and varied faults, he is a man of his word. It’s why he so rarely offers it. He has always hated backing himself into a corner, and hadn’t he done just that when he’d agreed to this bullshit? Still, he couldn’t blame Tarian, no matter how tempting. This one is his own damned fault.

He follows the more stoic stallion at a distance, though that doesn’t spare him from Ashhal’s dark glances. He’s still not entirely sure he is actually needed on this particular adventure, given how little he had heard of the autumn territory. But then, Ashhal has always made a point of not paying attention to kingdom politics. He had extricated himself from that sort of crap ages ago and had no intention of going back. He’s here if there’s a fight, nothing more. But by the looks of things, he’s not certain there are very many others here to fight.

Drawing alongside Tarian, he scowls into the forest, doing absolutely nothing to school his features into something more pleasant. He had told Tarian he wouldn’t talk, and he had meant it. He is no fucking diplomat, nor does he pretend to be one, no matter who asks. If whoever the hell answered Tarian’s call had a problem with that though, he would have no qualms about telling them exactly where they could shove it.

@Sabra

[Sabra]

Today I am blue, but a darker shade than you may be used to. An overcast midnight that glimmers with hidden rainbows, secret depths. Beautiful, in a way more subtle than I usually go for. It seems subtlety is a thing to be attempted lately,  when my borders are being ever more frequently visited. 

Today, for example. The overhanging boughs of eternally autumnal poplar and beech make a lattice canopy overhead, the rest of the world once again in tune with our season. These old trees, they are more unchanging than most. I appreciate them for that. They hold darkness and house my folk and we welcome those who are happiest in the shadows. There is nothing else in the world for us. 

Dreamily, I answer the call when it comes, wondering at the visitation I'll find today. Friend or foe, guest or passers by? One never can tell, and I slink with practiced softness through the fallen leaves. Best to see before being seen, and I pause curiously before making myself known. 

They are a pair of greys, winged stallions who nag at my memory. Something distant, extremely so, and I shiver at the thoughts that refuse to resolve themselves completely. Very much like grasping at a dream, one that fades all the quicker for trying to hold it in place. 

I am unsettled, and for a moment I consider leaving them to wait until they realize no one is coming. But there's the air of a mission about them, and it's rare enough seeing two stallions traveling together. They must be here on business, and if that's the case... I sigh faintly. Not showing my face will only bring more of them to crawl among my trees. 

"You rang?" I answer blandly, emerging from my dimly lit grove with disjointed grace. My face is equally bland, my annoyance at their lingering presence only just concealed. That is until I catch the scent they carry, and my mouth curls into a tight little smile. 

"Oh... Well if it isn't mister Walking Dead. Looking for round two?" I jibe, deliberately vague about what exactly this would be round two of. In the light, he looks much like he sounded in the darkness. Gruff, sour, ill-tempered; take your pick. I stretch a wing outward, neck rolling along with it as lightning flickers along my skin. If this is anything like last time, I'm going to be bored to tears within minutes. 

@Ashhal
@Tarian

[Tarian]

Tarian knows very little about the Sylvan leader. The gray pegasus doesn't usually concern himself with political affairs or the appearance of rulers, but here he is, waiting to be greeted by one. Lady Oceane had given him a basic description: an opalescent blue pegasus mare with pink points. (She had also tentatively touched on the affliction that Sabra suffered and Tarian took note not to mention it.)

And it doesn't take long for the famed Sylvan to approach them, though Tarian's silver brow furrows slightly at the approach of a midnight blue woman with a tree-limb reaching out from her slender chest.

Having seen the slaughter of war, it phases him little and the pegasus reminds himself not to look at it. It is as much a part of her as the wings on his back are a part of him. It is with a soldier's stance and stare that he adopts as she approaches, greeting them as if she has a million other things that she would rather be doing and Tarian is all the more glad for the Loessian Queen. It is just one more reminder that she is a rare creature in this world of magic.

"We came on behalf of Queen Oceane," Tarian begins. The lithe creature in front of them rolls her neck and the blue-eyed stallion eyes the lightning that strikes across her skin. (And he thought he had problems glowing like a full moon at night.) "Loess would like to know how Sylva is faring," the Loessian Champion further explains, knowing that scowling Ashhal had told him long before this trip that he didn't intend to say anything. That he knows this Sabra makes Tarian wonder if he intends to keep his vow of silence.

His pale wings settle against his sides and waits, glancing momentarily at the other gray before his blue eyes rest on Sabra again.

@Ashhal @Sabra

[Ashhal]

I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

The scowling pegasus expects very little of this trip, and at first, it seems his expectations will be fully met. Until it becomes clear they would be far exceeded. The gleaming blue of the woman that slinks from the trees is unfamiliar, but when his eyes fall to the wood thrusting unnaturally from her chest, his scowl darkens. He would very much like to be able to claim a madness that afflicts his memory so that he wouldn’t have to recall where he had seen that before, but Ashhal meets few enough others these days that he could claim no such thing.

To say he had been unimpressed with their last encounter however would be an understatement. It’s far more surprising for Ashhal to meet someone he likes rather than dislikes, but his introduction to her had stood out for the opposite reason. If there is anything Ashhal dislikes more than a normal conversation, it is an abnormal one. That she thought she knew him so well at the end of it had only irritated him more. So much so that he’d left rather than give her what she had so clearly craved (a feat in and of itself, considering it rarely takes much to push him into offering it).

He’d forgotten about the encounter entirely however. At least, until she’d stepped from the trees, obviously the woman they had come here to meet. “Fucking hell.” The words are muttered under his breath, though both Tarian and Sabra could undoubtedly hear them if they strained their ears enough.

Goddamn it all, he should have asked more fucking questions. Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he says nothing more. His expression would undoubtedly do all the talking for him. And in any case, he sure as hell has nothing more he wants to say to her. Or Tarian, for that matter. Not that he could have possibly known they’d met before, but that doesn’t stop him from holding a grudge.

@Sabra @Tarian