"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
And now I prance. I prance through the land again like I knew I had once before. Wait no, that was somewhere else. Hmm. No, no it was here I am sure of it. Every red, bubbling river looks the same after all, so you can understand my confusion between the lands. How silly of me to even second guess myself, it’s so absurd. But before I wasn’t sure I was the last of my kind, but I know better now. The others finally have me convinced with their incessant babbling. The way Therpans babble to each other longingly. But where is Harry with his glow horns?
Lightly stepping I glance into these lands I had ever so recently found myself in not so long ago. Concern creases my sunflower features I glance at the hopelessly lost young’uns scattered about me. This thought has me happy though, because I was concerned. I was concerned that I had been the last of our kind! What kind is this though? I’m not entirely sure. I’m only positive that I’m a magnificent creature. But I am not alone! Happiness overwhelms me and I bark out like the shiney woman with a whinny with joy! We are not alone! Why do these others not rejoice in the miracle that we are?!
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
With the exceptions of her frequent adventures on the mainland, Wishbone has spent all of her life in Tephra. Her days of childhood were spent weaving between thick tree trunks and slender lava streams, spent discovering the sea-squirrels and watching the whales breach on the horizon, spent bruising her knees on the rugged face of the volcano in hopes of reaching its peak. Having spent so many days and nights on the island, the mahogany girl knows just about every face and scent that finds itself on the shore.
She’s in a dangerous mood today — though most of her days are. While the volcano hasn’t showed signs of erupting in Wishbone’s lifetime, the bowels of its heat leak from below the surface to wind among forests and clearings and soothing hot springs. They often vary in size, stretching wider than a horse’s leap or narrowing into a rabbit’s step.
The maturing girl is spending some of her time hopping over the lava-streams, finding one slightly bigger than the next as she goes. Wishbone has just cleared something more akin to a river when a new scent catches her attention. The aromas of Tephra’s inhabitants are as familiar to her as the sting of brine and the choke of ash, so this new path grabs her attention quickly.
Her muscles ache from overextending the last jump (if she’d not made it — which she barely did — she would have been done for) but Wishbone gives her body a rough shake and begins to follow the trail weaving between the undergrowth. It isn’t long before she makes out a buckskin frame. She’s silent, working her way through the forest with calculated stealth, until she’s close enough to touch the other’s tail.
I am yet surrounded by hulking, lurking bodies. They gawk and sneer and laugh and I laugh right back at them. They may know something that I don’t know, Yes, but that will not keep me from pretending to know what they know, or at least what I think that they think that they know. And so I laugh and laugh along with them as I make my way through the land of sluggish red water. My face is a stony mask of pure nothingness full of deception as I mask my worry expertly. (Never you mind that really I look like I am panting like an overworked cat with eyes balls trying to run away from each other!)
This is bad water. Bad, naughty water that tries to eat people. I saw it eat a squirrel once. All black and red this place is. Terrible.
Something speaks behind me, and I quickly turn to face it, nearly tripping and falling into a stream of naughty water. Alas another one has come to life. A wild grin splits my face and my head tilts sideways.
“Helllloooooo Jack.”
This beast is much prettier than the last one I came across, though it smells like smoke and ash where the last one smelled like pine and blood. And in one long step I am closer to the smoke-scented being, the odd grin never leaving my face.
”You’re pretty, Jack.” Suddenly my grin falls flat into a pout and my brows draw together. “But if you’re Jack, who am I?”
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
This stranger is laughing into the shadows, nearly tripping into lava and looking like a fish out of water. Wishbone’s never had to deal with the mentally insane before and so a tendril of something works through her belly. It isn’t quite fear or concern or frustration, but it brims on a strong desire to protect her home at whatever costs. The mahogany girl knows of the children that reside under Tephra’s protection and if there’s a danger to those young lives she will do whatever she must to stop that.
Wishbone is quick to analyze their surroundings, winding between thick trunks and thin underbrush like a practiced feline. She’s aware of the thin tendril of lava working itself through the forests just behind the buckskin stranger, though it isn’t deep enough to murder. It would result in heavy burns and deep scarring though. Wishbone’s encountered her own share of singed heels and roasted knees since living in Tephra.
“I’m not Jack. My name is Wishbone.” Her brows are pulled together beneath the thickness of her auburn-dipped forelock. She’s mildly confused at this woman’s thought process, but part of her wonders if the stranger is Jack and just got herself mixed up. Although at any other point in time Wishbone would welcome a stranger to Tephra, she decides not to disclose the name of this land. “You don’t seem okay… Let’s get you some water.”
With a nod, Wishbone begins to turn toward a bubbling brook of clean water she had seen not far away, glancing back every so often to see if the stranger has followed.
04-20-2018, 10:46 AM (This post was last modified: 04-28-2018, 11:12 AM by Jackel.)
jackel
My ears spin this way and that, rapidly consuming the words the smoke being throws at me. The confusion that sweeps across her face is mirrored in the gilded lines of my own as my brows begin to knit closer together. ”Well of course you’re not Jack, dear. I am.” I snort in mock humor as I turn away from her and back towards the red water. ”If we were both Jack that would just be weird.” Poor dear to be so confused must be terribly frustrating. Turning back to her, the confusion in my expression relaxes to one closer to pity, suddenly feeling very empathetic towards the girl. ”Please, won’t you tell me your name, dear? And what’s a Wishbone?”
I’m only mildly aware that my lithe body has begun to circle around the smoke being, working my way closer to her with every pass, though my eyes never look directly at her, I am more preoccupied with looking between the burliness of the others as they intrude upon our conversation. That weird grin splits my mouth again as I relax my methodic circling enough to get close enough to the mischevious hot water passing nearby. It’s then that a molten bubble chooses to burst, sending a droplet sizzling into my front cannon. And I cannot help but watch as it finds purchase, charring the sooty fur and staining my limb with fresh blood. My head is tilted at an odd angle as I watch, my grin and wide eyes never faltering.
”Yes, let’s!”, I cry in sudden delight when she mentions the water, ”But only if it’s the nice kind.”
My form goes careening past her initially, but I stop and let her pass so I can follow. Hell I don’t know where I’m going.
A dull quiet is all I can hear and suddenly I am nothing but bored. Doesn't matter its only been a minute since we started down this raggedy path. So like any rational, bored creature I do what I do best--I test my boundaries and attempt to get under the smoke creatures skin. Or rather, feel her skin between my teeth as my lips part to attempt to pinch the deep red toned flesh of her shoulder before I quickly retract my dial backwards. My intention is not to draw blood, like I said, I just like to instigate sometimes. Okay a lot of the time.
Now I can't remember what I was doing, so I’m quick to start up simple conversation topics.
"So how many birds do you think it would take to kill a horse?”
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
Unsettlement burrows deeper into her stomach when the golden mare watches a drop of molten lava sear her skin and draw blood. There’s no sign of pain on her face, no flinching of her shoulders, and it causes Wishbone’s brows to pull deeper together. She can remember, rather unfondly, the past times she had managed to singe her skin and burn her knees. The pain had been white-hot and scream-inducing, seeming to dive deep into the marrow of her bone although the injuries were only superficial.
The girl winces even watching the action happen, but a sour taste rises in her mouth as they begin walking and ‘Jack’ pays no mind to the lava seeping into her skin and burning the hair away. When the golden mare nibbles at Wishbone’s shoulder (a pinching feeling that doesn’t draw blood due to the dull design of horse teeth but will certainly leave a bruise) she squeals and instinctually twists away.
“What the fuck.” Her voice is firm and agitated at this point, the growing degree of her negative emotions increasing by the second. This mare could certainly cause trouble for Tephra, having already caused enough with Wishbone herself. She decides to give her some water and then briskly escort her out of the borders for good. By the time the girl comes to this decision and the golden mare speaks about birds and death they have reached the bubbling brook.
The water is clean and fresh here, different from both the salty waves crashing on their shores and the dark streams of lava. Wishbone attempts to divert Jack’s attention toward the water rather than her absurd and worrying question. “Here’s some fresh water. Please, drink.” Her words find themselves clipped and stubborn, different from before. At this point the girl is looking to help the golden mare to this degree and then get her the hell out of Tephra.
credit to eliza of adoxography.
@[Jackel] / I figured we could finish this up since it's so far in the past now. We can say Jackel got a drink and then left, or if we want to write one or two posts more we can do that but finish it up quickly. It's up to you
