"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
From the Cove to the river, young Mazikeen swims as an otter. She’s been practicing her shifting more and more, using it as a means to distract herself. In the crisp autumn air as she floats on her back, watching the sky shift from afternoon to evening, she battles feelings of contentment and guilt. She’s on the cusp of adulthood and she wonders whether it is normal for all foals to find a new family, to drift away from their parents. For a moment she thinks of Firion, running towards something more, but dunking her head under the water erases those thoughts.
It’s almost dark when she climbs out of the river just before it meets the sea - shaking out her white fur before shifting back into her horse form. The shift doesn’t get rid of all the water, though, and even after shaking her mane and tail cling to her skin and chill her in the autumn air. But when she tries to turn back into something, anything, more waterproof there is nothing for her to grasp onto - she’s too exhausted from the trip here. It was good to push herself, holding onto a shape for so long, but now she needs to wait and rest until she can shift again.
Two things that Mazikeen is increasingly finding harder and harder to do the older she gets.
Orange eyes blaze in annoyance and they cast around looking for someone to either distract her from the chill and exhaustion or someone to take it out on. Either will do.
It winds merrily through the trees, bubbling and splashing itself against every rock it meets along the way. Barrow follows it at an eager pace. His ears tip forward in anticipation of every bend and curve that will mean an adjustment in his frenetic motion. Even the cooler, autumnal air wouldn’t slow him down even if it could. The chase to the end is all that matters!
Some older girl he’d met in the meadow (one he’d thought was rather pretty, all things considered) had told him how dreadfully wonderful the river was and how he should probably hurry along and go see it for himself. And then after that, maybe go check out one of the islands real far out to sea. Always eager to please, Barrow had obliged post haste. Only later, as his feet churned up the lush grasses along the banks, did he realize she had probably been sending him away on purpose. Joke’s on her, he muses now, this is far more interesting than she was. And it only hurts a little when he thinks about it.
As a young colt, his mother told him that he would make friends quickly. But she had grown up in a Beqanna that was far different than the here and now. As talk of monsters and magicians and shifters grew, so too did Radiant’s concern for her son’s safety. This concern shrank the circle of freedom Barrow was allowed to explore. He loved his mother, dearly, but she was wrong. He knew a shifter, a filly that could turn into a hawk by only her mind, and she had been fun and kind. She had been his only friend, even. But his dam had not relented her tight reins. Now, the red boy is almost a man. He had been sheltered in Tephra, but it hadn’t dampened his exuberance for life. It hadn’t snuffed out the spark in his chest put there by his grandfather’s own zest and zaniness. Today, he does what he wants and goes where his feet take him.
His blue eyes widen when he comes to a sudden stop. What he had been following isn’t the river at all, it turns out - merely a tributary to the actual River itself! That body of water swallows up the stream’s water in a roar as it feeds off of the other adjoining creeks in its path to the ocean. He pauses to marvel at the sheer power of it. Maybe that filly hadn’t been yanking his hock after all. There’s another figure just ahead, a pale horse – young, by the slightness of the figure – and he steps forward. “Why…hello,” he starts haltingly. The girl in the meadow’s brush-off is at the forefront of his mind. This time he will proceed with caution.
Even though Mazikeen had just been hoping for a distraction - and should be ecstatic that one walks right up to her - there’s a moment where she turns to him and her “Hello” is non-commital. She’s exhausted and lonely and now suddenly not sure if she wants the hassle of meeting someone new. What if they’re annoying? It’s not even like she has the energy to just fly away.
But then she gets a good look and a genuine smile brightens up her orange eyes and she turns to face him fully - forgetting the river and her wayward thoughts. She remembers the red boy she had met in the playground, remembers lying together in exhaustion after her first experience being stuck in a shift and how he had been full of so many ideas trying to help her get out of her predicament. She still remembers his talk of creating an ice perch for her and wonders whether he had ever gotten the hang of his own magic.
Right now, though, she just blurts one thing - practically shouting it in her excitement. “I know you!” She had been hoping to cross paths again with him as a filly, but fate hadn't been kind enough for more sweet encounters like theirs.
Maze supposed it didn't matter, anymore - though her excitement is quickly chased by a feeling of trepidation in her too as she waits to see whether there's the same recognition in his eyes too.
MAZIKEEN
mazikeen
@[Barrow] welcome back to the swing of things! <33
For a fretful second, he thinks he will be shrugged off yet again.
When the girl turns to face him, he feels it like a physical push as the apathy rolls off of her tongue and lingers in the space between them. Fortunately, it is short lived. Recognition brightens her face like fresh snow in the morning. He, too, feels lighter once he realizes who he has run into yet again. The acute worry churning his gut soothes into a much more normal-for-him low level of ever-present anxiety.
“Mazi!” His feet dance lightly as he moves around to better see his friend. He sees that she’s grown as he has, the both of them just shy of adulthood now. But whereas he looks awkward and ungainly in his slender and unfilled frame, the filly seems comfortable and confident, as if she’s matured exponentially in the same amount of time compared to him. Or maybe he is just projecting his own insecurities. Barrow wonders what adventures she’s found herself in since they spoke all those many days ago. He knows anything he shares will seem tame in comparison to most youngsters his age; his mother had kept him sheltered far longer than she should have, a downside to being the firstborn he supposes.
“I wish I would have found you again sooner. None of the other kids in Tephra were nearly as cool as you.” He doesn’t mention that he hadn’t actually looked for her because then he would have to admit his strict curfew – and the fact that he had adhered to his own curfew instead of rebelling like she might have.
He reaches down to scratch his sapphire blue leg and looks back at her with the same bright blue eyes, tilting his head in curiosity. “Have you had any more Bird Problems? Growing a beak in the middle of a sentence? Having your tail turn into feathers when you’re about to swat a fly? Shifting talons and tripping yourself up while gallivanting wildly across a meadow?” A crooked smile pulls at his lips imagining her in any one of those scenarios. He remembers that day in the playground when he had racked his brain for ideas on how to make her unstuck. He remembers the long list that could have easily been even longer if he hadn’t stopped himself from blurting more potential fixes out. “Come to think of it, how have you possibly survived this far without me?”
There is something so pure and so wonderful about being greeted with enthusiasm. It soothes away the last lingering bits of Mazikeen’s earlier frustrations and she eagerly takes root in this moment of joyful reunions. A slightly-wicked grin grows at the mention that none of the other kids in Tephra were as cool as her - and she speaks what comes to her mind first without hesitation. “Well of course, I’m the best!” But this confident half-joke is followed up by a slightly softer addition. “I’m glad you found me again now, though.”
And then when Barrow launches into questions about whether she's had any more bird problems, Maze laughs, loudly and without holding back, for the first time in a long time. It bubbles out of her without inhibition and feels good, feels freeing. Although she had thought about the boy from the playground before, she only realizes now how much she would have enjoyed seeing Barrow more often during the last couple years.
No one made her laugh like that.
There’s a bright grin in her orange eyes when she replies. “No Bird Problems but I did get stuck as a deer with a rather unpleasant colt who wasn’t nearly as helpful as you were. All he did was pout about his own problems! It took me forever to shake that shape! Could have used your expert advice then.” Her voice grows teasing, and it’s remarkable how at-ease she feels.
His question about her bird problems brings to mind one of his offers from all that time ago and she asks with another bright grin “Did you ever learn how to make ice trees?”
10-16-2020, 08:50 PM (This post was last modified: 10-16-2020, 08:50 PM by Barrow.)
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Confidence radiates off of her and it is almost infectious, even to the shier boy.
His grin grows when she claims she is the best. He is obviously not telling her something she isn’t already aware of! But it is true; the other kids hadn’t really appealed to Barrow in the way that Mazikeen did in the playground. In some ways, he doesn’t regret his quiet upbringing in the lush volcano land. He had made friends with the fauna and catalogued the flora. He had walked a multitude of miles along the ashen shoreline, had watched the waves bring evidence of adventures elsewhere as baubles left on the sand in the mornings. He had dreamed of the cold inside his veins yearning to break free, so different than the sweltering heat he actually lived in. He doesn’t have any regrets, except that he hasn’t found his first friend sooner.
Now, his excitement seems to make him glow from the inside out.
“That sounds like the most terrible time! He responds to her story about the world’s worst friend. Not even a single bit of advice given! Can you imagine the indecency of it all?“Lucky for you, I don’t have any problems to speak of. But if you do, I’m all ears.” Barrow’s blue eyes still harbor a playful light, but he tilts his head in earnest. If she has something to get off her chest he will listen until the stars glint as reflections in the river rushing beside them. The young stallion knows that is what friends are for.
Maze mentioning other colts gives him pause for more reasons than he fully understands. What else has she faced in the years since he’s seen her? Maybe her life hasn’t been all vibrant butterflies and rainbows refracting off of ocean-spray? Barrow knows, even as sheltered as he’s been, that everyone is not so lucky as he. He opens his mouth to say more when she asks him something he’d nearly forgotten in the initial delight of their meeting.
“Oh!” He bites his tongue in concentration, his eyes shifting to the ground between them and intensely focusing on one spot. Then he thinks better of it and backs up a few paces himself. Then he thinks even better of it and his eyes lift up to meet Mazikeen’s orange gaze. “You may want to scoot back a smidge. I don’t want to accidentally impale you this soon after finally seeing you again. Then I would have problems of my own.” Barrow’s lips quirk into a crooked but somewhat restrained grin; he’s only partly kidding.
The red colt eyes the riverbank grasses again and the ground starts to shift in response. A thin filament of ice begins rising towards the sky. But on the next gust of wind, a thick tuft of grass waves against it and snaps it in half. Drat! Dismayed but not discouraged, he tries again immediately. This time, the wind settles long enough for the filament to rise and thicken into a spear of ice. Barrow glances over the white filly’s head - sparing her a self-conscious smile at the same time – to look at a nearby maple for tree-inspiration. Like the maple, his ice begins to split into various branches as it climbs to a height just above their heads. He even concentrates long enough to add a few distinct maple leaves here and there (though only a few, it would be exhausting to fill the entire tree!).
When he’s done, he feels almost shy again. “Well, it’s not nearly as tall as it should be and not detailed enough.” Barrow eyes his creation ruefully, wishing he was further along in his mastery of his gift. “But I know it’s sturdy enough to hold you, at least.”
His offer of being a listening ear for her problems is a touching one, though truthfully Mazikeen had no practice talking out the things that bothered her. An unfortunate thing to learn from her mother, who was keen to keep as much as she could locked away (no matter how much snuck out anyway).
Besides, how could she possibly burden this earnest, sweet soul with even a hint of her nightmares?
And really, her life had not been so terrible - had it?
She’s thankful when he takes to her change of subject with the tree. When he warns her about an accidental impaling, she laughs again and scoots back dutifully. Her eyes dance with even more interest now. The idea of him being able to create a tree out of ice was pretty interesting on its own but mix in the danger of impaling? Now that was fascinating.
Mazikeen follows his gaze, feeling excitement tingle across her skin as that first thin filament forms - and then breaks. Although she feels disappointed, Mazikeen doesn’t say anything or move because Barrow is still concentrating and he tries again without hesitation. She’s fascinated by the growing spear and when he looks at her - or over her head - she smiles with what she hopes is some encouragement. The spear itself was already impressive and she marvels as it begins to branch and even sprouts a few maple leaves. He comments on its faults, but she cannot see them.
“It’s beautiful!” She exclaims with absolute truth, stepping forward to touch Barrow gently on the shoulder before moving closer to the tree to examine it. She is not feigning the wonder in her orange eyes for his benefit and with a delighted laugh Mazikeen shifts into a small white hawk and flutters around the tree approvingly. She lands carefully on one of the branches - taking a couple tries as she shouts “Ohh! That’s cold.” at the first contact of ice on her bird feet.
Then she settles down at eye-level and trills a happy call in her hawk-voice. “One day I bet you’ll be able to make a whole forest if you wanted to. All it takes is some practice, right? Just like my shifting.”
“I wish I could create like this, though.” Mazikeen says, even though it’s not entirely the truth. She’d trade her ability to shift forms for nothing - but how wonderful to make something so beautiful out of nothing more than a little ice?
