"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
like a bird caught in a curtain, this temporary entanglement may lead to an open sky
She was born to a mother and a father, but she was taken by the wind not long after that. Perhaps she always belonged to the wind. She returns to this family, when she can, but she cannot deny that her heart is elsewhere—that when she is as solid as she can be, rooted to their side, that she feels sick. That her body begins to grow weak, her mind foggy, her heart sluggish. So perhaps that is why she takes to the skies more and more. Why as she grows older in months, she spends more and more time by the sun.
Today is no different.
The summer is warm and the breeze is light, and she is one with it. She rides along the currents of air, giggling as the wind picks her up and moves her as though she is a leaf. These currents are home, in a way, and as she bends to its desire, laughing as she flips alongside it. She cannot tell if the wind moves through her or around her or if it even matters. If there is any point in trying to find a beginning and end.
(She doesn’t think so. Not truly.)
Laughing, she exerts her own will on the wind, hurrying it along. It responds in kind, blowing faster and faster and she cannot contain her squeals of delight. She doesn’t even realize when she blows into the meadow, feeling windswept and full of light. She glances down at those who gather here, some in pockets and some all by themselves, and she feels the mischief of the young. Remaining invisible, she twists down through the pocket of cool air before coming up alongside another, blowing the wind through the stranger’s mane. Once it is properly mussed, she laughs—unable to contain herself—and floats away.
The autumn lands where his family now resides are rather quiet. Besides them, there is only Manny (that he knows of) and while the hippogriff is delightful and mysterious in her own way… He is young and craves more. Despite the calmness of the woods, his family seems to have grown isolated from each other. He had not seen his mother or his twin in days and his father seemed distracted. He’s not sure why, not sure where exactly they are, but he is certain they will be back soon and takes advantage of the situation by heading out of the forest to the common lands. Alone.
Although he prefers his panda shape he moves faster in his equine form, so that is the one he takes. The gold markings along his neck and legs glint in the summer sun as his hooves tear at the earth beneath him, feeling the freedom that moves in his gallop as he laughs and makes his way towards where the meadow should be. His flaxen mane is windswept by the time the lavender colt arrives in the open space, his warm gold flecked eyes wide and amazed by the expanse of what lays before him.
So many new things to see, so many new horses to meet.
Before he can join them, a cool breeze sweeps beside him. How strange, he thinks, how out of place compared to the heat of the summer sun. He doesn’t mind the feel of it, cooling his warm neck as it blows through his already unkempt mane until it is thoroughly tangled. It is only when it stops and he hears a soft laugh moving away from him that he realizes that something was messing with him. “Hey!” He whirls around, curved ears pointed to where he had certainly heard something. “Where are you?” He asks, spinning again and searching for something he cannot see but is positive is there.
His mom isn’t far, keeping a watchful eye, but she doesn’t protest as Starros’ exploration takes him a little further out with each circle. He knows there’s another set of eyes likely close by, those of a tattle-tale owl that reports back to hi mom, but for now that isn’t a problem. For now he’s not looking to get into trouble. Or not too much of it anyway.
He and his twin have not yet finished exploring all the wonders of Loess but it is still a treat to explore outside of their home. Here it’s not the same boring collection of faces but new ones all the time.
His downy wings are tucked close to his side, little slivers of sunlight peeking out between the feathers as he wanders. A burst of laughter draws his attention and he turns to see another boy with an extremely messy mane. Messy in a way that it doesn’t look like it’ll ever not be. The lavender colt spins, talking to someone that… well it just doesn’t look like anyone is there.
So of course Starros goes forward because this is just weird enough to grab his attention.
“Are you… talking to the wind?” Starros asks the colt while his blue eyes dart around, just in case there is someone around that he can't see.
STARROS
@alkena @Link crashing this because I wanted an excuse to write him <3
like a bird caught in a curtain, this temporary entanglement may lead to an open sky
She is floating away when the boy whirls around and she pauses, bobbing along the air current that had been moving to push her further and further away. Her only response is to laugh, blowing outward and sending another breeze to wrap around him and further tangle the mess of a mane that she had already done. It is tempting, to not answer him—to simply float away, away, away and never come back.
(She is made for this. To leave. To never have roots. To just go.)
But her curiosity has spiked and it is a powerful thing for Alkena. Powerful enough that she remains in place, bouyed by the air and warmed by the sunlight that trickles down and shines through her. It is only when another boy comes near, questioning the first that she lets out another peal of laughter—as golden and warm as the sun that basks over them both. “He is,” she confirms from her spot above them, glancing down with wide eyes that they cannot see and a grin that lights up her transparent face.
She sends another gust of wind, this time to them both, before she giggles and floats further down to them, her voice coming from behind them but no longer from above. “The wind talks back though.” Her legs fold under her and she rests there, hovering several feet above the earth. “This time, at least.”
