"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
He has never forgotten. Like an elephant, he remembers. His mind is a steel trap, it snaps and captures. Dark matter storing and filing like a cruel storage cabinet. In the files marked Unfinished Experiments, there’s one name that’s got a thicker vanilla folder. He has grown now, has experienced the freedom of sight, had made something of himself. But little birds will always talk and he has soon learned that dearest Brynmor is not only still alive but also still blind. What luck. What timing.
So he waits. Oh he could go to Tephra and collect him. There was another there that he needed to reclaim, the girl that Magnus had stolen from him. As if he had any right to his own flesh and blood. However the timing is incorrect. Not yet.
He moves from the cool mist of the forest to the swirling rapids of the river. Red eyes watch, patient. Good things always take time. Today his hooves are barely swallowed by the coolness, grains of dirt and rock sinking slightly beneath him. The tips of feathered wings curling and grazing the surface of the water. He can feel it in his bones, a tingle of excitement at his breast. Today is the day. ”You think I had forgotten you. How can I forget something that belongs to me.”
Gryffen
- - - - -
The Big Bad Wolf
@[Brynmor] I thought it was time to get back together haha
There's none so blind as those who will not listen.
Quite surprisingly, Brynmor had forgotten. When he had thought his life couldn’t get any worse, it miraculously changed for the better. And better it had gotten. He had actually lived and except for a few minor mistakes he could look back on it with a smile. A happy life.
Dear lord, he sounded like he was dying already. Grimacing he shakes his pale head, unseeing eyes blinking a few times as he stares blind ahead of himself. In front of him the river flows by, front hooves slightly into the water. Brynmor’s lips are still moist from his drink. He had drank a lot, grateful that he finally had found sweet water. The grass had been lush too and for the first time in a while he had eaten himself full.
From a high ranked diplomat, he was now back at where he came from. Blind, useless, a nobody. And back in his captor’s gasp. It had been years since he had last heard that voice. ”You’re going to be a spy for me and the Chamber Queen… And if you fail dear Brynmor…” The wolf had been clear in his threat.
He tenses up, like the kid he once was. He had grown so much, and perhaps lost even more. Roan, Igni, Henson, Offspring, the Tundra. All he had ever loved, still loved. ”Gryffen” he replies, tone flat and dull. A bit inaccurate his head sways into the direction of the former Chamber wolf. ”Have you come to execute your threat?”
After all, that was what Gryffen had promised him. ”Your death will be a most painful one.”
Brynmor had some experience under his belt now, a little older and wiser they might say. All the pale stallion sees is the same weak and pathetic blind thing he had left behind. Still just as broken, if not more so, then when he abandoned it. Gryffen had not forgotten his promise. It had been he that had placed the blind boy in the snow to begin with. When you think about it, the few moments of happiness Brynmor had experienced was because of him. Oh…. You owe me boy.
”So you remember after all?” He snarls softly, hooves splashing lightly as he moves across the bank and closes the gap between them. Wings curl and uncurl, indecisive. His breath is hot as his muzzle comes close to the stallions ear. ”I should kill you.” He pauses before placing a sharp nip on the other’s cheek. ”But you still might prove useful yet.”
Cold laughter follows as he circles the stallion, wings ruffling lightly at his side. ”Besides I think you are indebted to me…” For he would have never gained his sight, accomplished anything, be anyone… If it hadn’t been for the Chamber ghost’s plans.
There's none so blind as those who will not listen.
Broken, then fixed and now broken again. Or that was what he had made himself belief. Deep down, hidden somewhere within him like once the voice of his imaginary friend had been, Brynmor knew better. He just didn’t acknowledge it yet. Perhaps he never would. Maybe he just needed a little push in the right direction. ”How could I forget?” he replies, unseeing eyes staring past Gryffen in nothingness.
Then, suddenly, Gryffen is all too near. The water gives him away, splashing at his legs, as Brynmor hasn’t moved from his spot a few steps into the river. His ears flick backwards and he tilts his head to move away from the touch. But it is the little nip has him backing away, stumbling to the side, ears flickering back and forth and sending water all around him. ”What makes you think that?” he asks, voice lower but collected.
He owed Gryffen nothing.
Brynmor blinks his unseeing eyes, his gaze swaying in the direction he suspected Gryffen was still standing. His nostrils flare widely, but his ears are flicked back insecure. ”What do you want from me?” he asks, voice shaking a bit more than what he would’ve liked.
It delights him to see Brynmor stumble in the water like a clumsy child. His blank eyes searching but not seeing. The ghost stifles a laugh at his foolishness. ”Careful now, you might drown.” He drawls lazily, sending a splash his way as he kicks water forward. Perhaps he would keep edging the blind man back until he lost his footing, he doubts the fool knows how to swim.
Brynmor has learned insolence while he’s been away. Tsk tsk, that won’t do. Nip that in the ass real quick. ”I would be careful if I was you…” He slowly states, a dark warning in the tone of his voice. ”You would have died on that beach if it wasn’t for me. You wouldn’t be anything if I hadn't come along.” He could have killed the stupid foal the moment he had murdered his mother. Instead, he had spared him for a life of servitude. Better then dead wasn’t it? What an ungrateful little git.
There’s a slight quiver in his voice now and a wolfish grin spreads across pale lips. ”What do you call home these day Brynmor?” He slyly asks, red eyes flashing as he kicks water at him again. ”Time to come back to the fold my friend, don’t you think?.”
