"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 is clueless of what lies ahead. His mother and her macerated heart and all the change she will inflict on his life are entirely unknown. It would serve him well to know more of her trials of the heart but he is a beautiful boy who must set the world on fire for himself.
Along the river runs a well traveled highway that never deviates far from the edge of the water. Frequently that path, dusty or carpeted by hardy low growing grass, veers off into the trees or into the river itself. These little offshoots criss-cross the main route and disappear into the forest or off toward toward the meadow. Some are narrow secret tracks. Others are well-used and framed by foliage that has grown accustomed to frequent passers-by, dark green tunnels off curling off into the trees.
It is by means of these that the bay is spending a day in idle exploration. He is splashed in bright color as though he had raced through molten gold. Even his handsome face is unevenly painted with a careless ease that lends him an all the more rakish appearance. The curve in the river creates a deep black hole beneath the surface. It is dark and likely cool, a pleasant place for large trout to rest. He is drawn to it inexplicably, wading along the slope around its edge. He does not know what lies in that darkness though at some point all of him has been soaked and water drips from his black forelock and clings to his dark lashes. Eyes the color of hazelnut shells veined in gold are trained upon the ribbony outline of a fish tucked up beneath the bank. Valek has no use for a fish, but he watches it all the same until the sound of someone else coming along toward the curve in the river and the dark hole draws his attention.
Valek turns away from the deep part of the river and into the faster shallow water. He does not shake himself but lets the water drip from him the autumn air chilling his skin as he looks toward a stranger and says with amiable intensity, “Have you ever caught a river trout?”
The painted mare is on the shore, sunning herself, the river being a favorite haunt of hers. Isobell has decided to leave her halls of bleached seashells and sea glass to visit the land of Beqanna.
A stallion enters from around the curve of where she lounged, he is strong and well formed, features handsome of given youth. He seems occupied by the flow of water and something that lurked beneath. Iso easily recalls the day she had been drown in those very waters...I var had made her what she is, reborn.
Lavishly slow, she rises to feet, tossing the sand away from her dampened mane. The water mare moves nearly soundless towards the form of the male, dark eyes watching from beneath long lashes. It had been some time since she had held a conversation but no doubt the words would purr from her slender throat.
He hears her approach before she is near him but Isobell does not make the effort to spook him. An easy smile tugs at her pretty lips as he has turned and moved to the shallows with a simple inquiry. "No, I prefer seaweed to flesh." Her reply is smooth and low as she dips her legs into the water, as water droplets fall from his body, once again, watching how the sun glimmers upon the surface in a spectacular shatter. The painted woman returns her gaze to the bay and gold male. "Have you?" Ears lift forward, noticing the way the water droplets leave his body, Isobell waits for a reply.
Sunlight ripples off the surface of the water, light reflecting endlessly between the gold of his skin and the shifting river below. Water slides from his skin, but he never shakes it from himself, just lets it roll down his muscled limbs and the taut canvas of his hide.
It was only a matter of time before his love of the water put him in the company of someone like her, though he has no inkling of what kind of creature of piebald beauty is. Just as he has no idea what he will one day become, though there may be years between the stallion and his vicious inheritance.
He might have said he had no intentions of eating the fish, but he isn’t entirely certain that is true. Though he is biologically an herbivore, deer have been known to eat whole fledglings and many ungulates consume the bone and sinew of corpses...he might have stomached a bite or two of cold water trout. “No, but for some reason I’ve always wanted to.” His chocolate and gold eyes track her silver ones (Seaweed?) and stray along the wavy fall of her bicolored mane before returning to her unfamiliar face. “My name is Valek. Who are you?” She is beautiful, and though he should be desensitized to beauty he notices it even in unexpected places, his eye finely tuned.
A few steps through the swift shallows bring the tall bay nearer to her, his nostrils (one gold, one dark bay) flare to pull her scent out of the air where it mingles with the sweetness of water and forest earthiness. ”Why seaweed?”
There is a tantalizing tension in the air that Isobell begins to notice when the bay moves closer to where she stood. It had been sometime since she has felt something close to this. It is exciting, dangerous, addicting.
Her silver eyes meet the two tone of his. The gold eye is what keeps her attention for it is familiar in an unusual way...it is nearly frighteningly familiar but Isobell can not place it just yet. A smile still toys her dark lips as she permits him closer to her, his scent masculine and heavy, that she hungrily invites. It was a bit startling the carnivous way she bid the amber male close.
Isobell breathes slow, calming herself and the feral tendencies that threaten to spill over from her control, her eyes never leaving the enticing features of the attractive beast. His words are heard but they are murky for she is distracted again by the droplets that fall from his taller body. "Valek, a pleasure, I'm Isobell." Naturally, her voice curls the syllables into a velvet purr.
The scent of salt air surrounds them as it seems to still cling to Valek's skin. The way he moves, the way his ravenous eyes seem to move over the fine curve of her hips, reminds her of Ivar...if Valek claims Ischia has his home,it's possible to be one of his children (and that could prove to be an interesting interaction between the bay and pied mare). Isobell attempts to quell a delicious shiver but it still causes her body to tremble slightly despite her will to suppress it. The warm summer air must be making her heady?
"I like the combination of salt and sweet together." The remark rolls from her tongue smoothly, her slender shoulders shrugging in a matter of fact way, her lips tugging upward as she looked upward to Valek. The black and white mare looks off for fear her staring may give way to more than just casual conversation in a river beneath the warm sun. "Where do you call home, Valek?" The words curl from between parted lips, his name honeyed on her tongue.
