"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
There was too much that wanted fixing at home, yet Cheri awakens one early winter morning to find that old dog ‘restlessness’ gnawing on her bones again. It wants her to move from the warmth of her bedmate to the cold, foggy air of the clustered redwood forest so she does, leaving Obscene behind with a kiss and a promise of meeting up later.
At first the walk did her justice. She took in the familiar sights, wandered down the forgotten trails, steered clear of the spider-wolves den, and tried to suppress the irresistible urge to take flight. Her wings, pressed close on either side of her svelte black belly, could hardly be useful here. She did her best to ignore how much they itched to expand and be put to use.
By mid-afternoon Cheri nearly gave in.
She found herself at River’s edge of Taiga, further south toward the border which gave a complete view of The Mountain. From there she peered up at the godshead and let her thoughts wander, trying a last ditch attempt at dispelling her restlessness with an active mind, but the effort was fruitless.
She needed to escape this place, at least for a little while.
In an instant the desire was granted; Cheri transported from her location directly to another, somewhere deep and uncharted in the hundred-acre woods of Beqanna. It was a little disorienting at first, making her head spin and her legs tremble, and then the sensation died away like a sleeping limb finally receiving bloodflow again. She blinked at her surroundings to get a sense of direction and then relented with an irritated sigh. Well, she thought to herself, picking up her walk where she’d left off in Taiga, at least my powers are returning.
appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
Rezza finds herself spending perhaps too much time on land. It’s not that she doesn’t love her underwater home, for she does, but there’s been something altogether thrilling about having new places to explore. Besides, with Tsilutsuli sick, for the first time in over a century, Rezza doesn’t feel like she has chains tying her to the Queen. That said, her duties in Baltia are busier than normal, but still, she finds that there is time to slip away.
She’s grown braver as well, venturing further from the water with each trip on land. Her legs are growing used to walking (though she will never envy those who travel only by foot), and she has stopped bothering to look as similar to the horses of Beqannians as she can. Instead, she keeps her jellyfish tentacles in her mane and tail, because in the end, even without them she still looks so very other in comparison. Her lack of visible ears, her hairless skin, and her black eyes are dead giveaways anyway.
She is strolling through the forest when a mare suddenly materializes not too far away. In the depth of the forest, it’s entirely possible that the average horse wouldn’t see through the darkness, though Rezza has no trouble with this. For a moment, she simply watches as the mare appears out of nowhere, as strangely colored as many of the other horses Rezza has come across. After a moment, her feet begin to move again, and she makes her way toward the stranger. ”Forgive the intrusion,” she says with a nod as she grows closer, and with a friendly smile adds “though perhaps you are the one intruding. Quite an impressive entrance.” Her voice is easy and light, not actually suggesting the mare had intruded at all, but rather simply breaking the ice. And, perhaps, learning who she was dealing with based on the response.
It was probably the most normal thing in their world to come across travelers wandering through the Forest. This was one of the few places nomads could enter freely, and so it came as no surprise that the influx of creatures inhabiting these woods multiplied as the years went on. Cheri knew for a fact that Anubias the Dream-Walker and his family came from these woods, and this was where she found Sorren years ago after the Eclipse had ended, and that lots of other strange or sinister things had gone on here throughout the years. If you went out looking for a distraction, chances were good that you’d find it lingering or lurking in one of the common areas.
The Forests of Beqanna weren’t the safest of places, but they certainly produced the most interesting characters.
Cheri actually hadn’t gone very far from her point of origin before she saw it: the flicker of movement in between the trees, signaling something large and brightly-colored was walking around. She didn’t pause to investigate further. It was a rule of hers to stop seeking out trouble, these days. For a second she turned her dark head and glanced around, hoping to catch another peek at whatever it was, and then she saw it emerge from the faded beams of an evening spotlight.
It was a mythic of some sort (she guessed), and now that the creature was aware of their nearness it spoke out with a feminine voice. Cheri slowed to a stop, intrigued by the obvious level of outward intelligence and not in such a rush that she couldn’t be swayed into conversation by that more curious side of her nature.
“Thank you,” She accepted the compliment with a gracious dip of her chin, “are you familiar with teleportation?”
In her experience, compliments of the magical kind came from those with deeper knowledge of the magic being used, but she didn’t entirely dismiss the notion that it was just a means of kindling some connection between herself and the earless mare.
She did, however, find the little comment about trespassing strange, but instead of ruminating over it too deeply Cheri surmised that it was simply an odd, indirect way of wondering what someone was doing in these deeper parts of the Forest. Briefly, her attention focused on the most eye-catching parts of her newfound companion: the eyes, the rubbery tendrils in her mane, and the purplish-smooth skin covering her body like a dolphin’s pelt were all very unusual to see the far inland. Perhaps she lives in one of the rivers, Cheri thought.
appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
Her dry humor falls flat, and she takes note of that and tucks that particular brand in her back pocket. She might even keep it there, though it’s always so much more fun when her conversational partner gets it. Alas, not everyone is made like her and some conversations just don’t go as she might like. Still, the compliment seems to get her somewhere, into an opening for a conversation, which is always the goal where Rezza is concerned.
This close, Rezza can see more details about the other mare. Thin and slight compared to Rezza’s heavier set frame, though this is not so much a comparison as a simple observation. The light green is a particularly interesting color, though Baltia is certainly full of particularly interesting colors (or just Mesarez, who happens to be see-through. So far as she could tell, that was particular to the Baltians only, but maybe she just hadn’t stumbled upon the right horse on land yet.
”Personally, no. I’ve never had the luxury of being able to teleport. I’ve known others who could though.” All of them were largely dead now, though she doesn’t mention this in polite conversation. The thing about teleportation is that it is a very handy skill in battle, particularly for runners. As such, it was a dangerous trait to have as most of them were sent into the thick of battle. ”I’m Rezza,” she offers, giving her name and a nod to go with it.
It's not dry humor that escapes Cheri, but the lack thereof entirely. The forest was well-known as a common area and so, naturally, the pegasus had merely assumed (and without knowing it, correctly assumed) that whoever the pale purple mare was, she certainly wasn't intricately aquainted with the more common aspects of this land. Again, Cheri merely thought that she was a water-dweller of some sort; otherwise she never considered another commoner or kingdom-member would allude to trespassing in the forest as anything but false accusations.
For her part, Cheri thought trying to explain that would've only offended the stranger. She was thus equally glad to find Rezza happily engaged by chatter concerning teleportation, instead.
"It's as useful as it cumbersome, I say." Her laughter was genuine and bright, as clear as crystal. "Pleasure to meet you, Rezza. My friends call me Cheri."
Perhaps she should be introducing herself as Champion of Taiga instead, she thinks. After all, there was no better way to spread the word than by mouth, and if word ever needed to get out about Taiga's new leaders she would have to be the one doing it. This time, she thinks those necessities can wait. It was perferable to Cheri that she enjoy the serendipity of crossing paths with a unqiue, beautiful mare rather than to spoil it right from the beginning with 'titles'.
"I come from the northern regions," Rezza's companion kept talking, wanting to volley the conversation in a diplomatic way so that her counterpart might not be held responsible for the bulk of it, "are you a river-dweller?"
04-19-2022, 08:54 AM (This post was last modified: 04-19-2022, 08:54 AM by Rezza.)
appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
Rezza doesn’t dwell on the humor that missed its mark. It was not a statement meant to be taken literally, and though Rezza can easily read the mare’s thoughts on the matter, it’s really not worth the effort to explain. Clearly it’s a bad joke if it needs explaining. Rather, Rezza simply tucks away the information so she can better tailor her conversation to the type of humor that might be more appealing.
The conversation drifts on, as do both their thoughts. Rezza keeps very vague tabs on what the other is thinking mostly out of habit, not digging or looking for anything at all, but just aware. It’s something of a natural habit at this point to Rezza and she has to actively think to tune it out when she’s with her daughter or her Queen. They are the only two she actively tries not to listen in on. Everyone else - well, in normal conversations she wouldn’t even call it mind reading so much as just being too lazy to turn it off. Mind reading was what she did when she was dealing with diplomats she didn’t trust, picking around inside their minds to understand what they actually wanted. She was rather adept at the skill at this point, leaving no way for them to even know what she happened to be doing.
It’s as useful as it is cumbersome, the mare says. Rezza raises an amused eyebrow, looking down at the legs she still doesn’t necessarily like. ”So like how I feel about walking,” she says with a bit of a playful grin. She does gather that the mare she is talking to is Champion of Taiga, which honestly is largely meaningless to her. Was Champion akin to their General? Maybe. She doesn’t know where Taiga is either, though it’s clearly one of their lands.
Cheri asks where she comes from, offering ‘the northern lands’ as her own dwelling area. What was with them and these lands defined by region? They had names…regardless, this seems to be the custom here, and so she tucks that bit of information away as well. ”Baltia,” she offers in return. A river-dweller? It was borderline insulting (not that she shows it, trained diplomat that she is), though apparently they had some of those. Rezza knew a few curious land dwellers had the magic to come into their sea and survive, so perhaps they did live here near these shores. Still, who would choose a river when they could have the sea? ”What lands are in your northern region? Forgive me, but clearly, I’m new.”
