"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
It’s strange, how this place hasn’t seemed to age or change at all. It had been centuries since she had been here but the meadow still speaks to her with familiarity. As if she had only been gone for a day instead of years. None of the faces here register anything within her, not recognizing a single one. She prefers that. She is still at the beginning of her hunt, still in the information seeking stage. “Patience.” She can hear his growl in her ear, red eyes flashing with annoyance at having to remind her yet again. A flash of stained blunted teeth at her neck, sharp and annoyed. “The more you know, the better prepared you will be. Then you can set the stage and arrange your actors.”
There was no better place to find snippets of news and exchange information then this place. There was the added bonus of also being comfortable in this element, knowing this land that she had once called home while the rest of Beqanna remained much a mystery. There is a thought of what her next step might be and her steely gaze glances in the direction of where she knows the field to be. A suggestion of a snarl curls at the corner of her mouth, the thought of being claimed or told what to do by anyone making her froth with distaste. It was necessary though, the next step in their plan. Kingdoms would open new avenues and bring even more information, a kingdom was the perfect place to hide and plot.
The thought shifts to the back burner, turning her attention on today. Hooves dig deep into the snow beneath her as she gallops through the winter wonderland the season provides. Her jaguar-dappled liver coat stands out against the endless white that she moves through, sending up a spray of flakes where she runs. The sun is bright and high today, the only source of warmth to be found. It glitters across the untouched surface of ivory before her, brushes against her backside with its welcomed heat. With a toss of her neck and a shrill whinny of enthusiasm, she increases her stride. Cold whips at her face, tangles the silky milk-white of her mane into something disheveled. She feels wild and it shows in the muscles that ripple beneath her skin, the patterns of sweat that begin to form along her coat. It had been such a long time since she had been allowed this freedom so she greedily enjoys it, drinks in every moment of it.
She never forgets the plan. Never forgets why she had come back here. Even in her wildness, there is still a purpose. Vinny knows she is a beautiful creature and when she is like this, untamed and reckless, it is hard to ignore. That’s what she’s counting on as she gallops through snowdrifts with no destination in mind. Always glancing from beneath her dark lashes out of the corner of her eye to see who might be watching.
“You’ve never known pain like I have,” Thorn whispers at his son. Madness had long set in years ago, having spent too much of his life plagued by all the pain of creatures that surround him. He seeks it out, in fact—for without it, Thorn was terribly, achingly empty.
When he was hungry, he sought out his sons.
“You will never know pain like I have.”
Claudius says nothing in return. He merely blinks unflinchingly at his father, torn chest and all. This wasn’t the Thorn he always knew. There were brief memories, when he was very young, when his father was able to be soft. There are cherished, loving memories Claudius keeps warm and well-remembered. This version of his father will not win.
“Answer me, Claudius,” Thorn snaps through gritted teeth, sucking in a pain breath. Claudius watches the black sabino wince. A long-endured ache flares in the chestnut’s chest. He looks down. Even the strongest have their limits.
“I love you, Dad,” he answers strongly, before pivoting on his back legs and weaving a complicated, rushed path through the Tephran jungle.
Gasping for air, Claudius lurches upward from the sheltered boulder he was napping beneath. His eyes roll with panic and desperation, legs kicking up snow frantically while he tries to get his bearings. It’s not until several seconds later—hot air heaving in and out of his nostrils in long, steamy lines—that he remembers he had settled down for a midday nap. That this memory only came to him in a nightmare. That he hasn’t seen his father since then.
Wild hoof beats widen Claudius’ eyes once again. He whips his head around from its direction facing the boulder, periwinkle eyes reflecting the image of a liver chestnut woman galloping carelessly through the snow. He merely observes for a few seconds, feeling his already elevated heartbeat grow even faster just watching her mad dash.
The crazed heart rate in Claudius’ chest stirs the parts of him he constantly has to conquer. All the anger, hurt, and betrayal. The abandonment and fear. He launches forward, legs vibrating with a furious jolt of energy, giving chase to the galloping woman. The snowdrifts are hard to speed up in; but once Claudius falls into the path Vindictive already dug, he quickly begins to gain on her.
“What are you running away from?” he screams over the sound of their galloping.
It doesn’t take long to snag something on her line and reel in a victim.
Tossing her delicate skull, she spots a figure coming up from behind on the path she had created through the snow. A wry grin finds her mouth as she forces herself to speed up, sending up sprays of white, muscles straining against her sweat-slicked coat as he begins to gain on her. A flash of gray catches the figure again, a male, as she leads him on this wild chase to nowhere. There is something on his face that makes her cheshire grin grow only bigger. He calls to her over the pounding of their mutual hoofbeats and she laughs, a haunting melody that catches on the wind and carries back to him. “Life!” She yells back to him as she throws back her head and lets the cold wind run its fingers through her disheveled ivory mane.
The strain of her gallop, the cold air in her lungs, it begins to slow her steps but still she pushes forward as she calls over her dappled shoulder to him again. “And you?” She asks, thinking she might already know the answer. They were all running from something, even her.
Deep down, she is pleased that the stallion has not tried to slow her pace or even tried to stop her. There is that thrill of anticipation, that excitement that comes with being reckless. There is something about running with a stranger that for a moment makes her forget that this was all part of a larger purpose. For a second, she is truly free.
03-18-2022, 06:37 PM (This post was last modified: 03-18-2022, 06:39 PM by claudius.)
A personality not easily unnerved, Claudius finds it especially disturbing when the sight of Vindictive's grin sets his hair on end. He watches her through the lens of exercise, feeling the swirling black anger in his belly hardening into a knot of anxiety and agitation. There's something . . . something imperative that she lacks. Was it an emptiness in her grin? An eerie echo in her words? But he can't pinpoint what's off while exerting himself so intensely, and that persistent anger from his nightmare makes him forget everything but whatever distracts him.
The shark's grin Vindictive wears is enough to deflect his concerns.
Picking up the pace and drawing on the supernatural stamina his heart gifts him, Claudius quickly begins to close the remaining distance between him and the waning mare. He draws shoulder to shoulder with her, not looking or saying anything for the few moments their hooves fall into a matching rhythm. Then -
"I don't run from anything."
Chest heaving, Claudius pushes his pace even faster, snow and hardened dirt flying in his wake. Surely she mustn't know of the nightmare that woke him? The father he once ran from? Is that what unsettled him moments before? The foreign touch of a mind-reader's probing? The chestnut stallion curls his lip in a silent growl, launching forward in a burst of angry energy before swerving to the left in an attempt to cut Vindictive off.
Whether they collide or she stops in time, Claudius asks through weighted breath, "Why - would you run - from life?"
There is something approving in her gaze when she glances at him, the words that fall into the wind just long enough for her to catch them, before he increases his stride. The way he pushes ahead makes her wonder if there was magic at play here and a flash of irritation wrinkles across her muzzle as she glances again at his wings and horn. There was no mistaking that he had been blessed by something of magical nature.
It’s the first mistake she makes, a slight frown on her lips as she briefly becomes lost in thought instead of keeping herself aware of her surroundings. In doing so, she doesn’t anticipate him cutting her off and finds herself colliding directly into him. Her pace had been waning but there is enough force for either of them to stumble or fall. The wind is knocked from her sails and she only keeps herself from hitting the ground completely by using his body to catch herself. A soft snarl of anger escapes her but she bites back the words she truly wants to say before she finally looks up at him, her sides heaving as she tries to steal her breath back.
“That wasn’t very nice.” She scolds him lightly, as if he was a foolish colt and not a grown stallion, trying to bring hurt instead of anger into the storm of her gaze. Moving away from him, she tentatively steps on her right forelimb, bringing it towards the earth as if it might be injured. It isn’t, of course, but she inhales with a sharp hiss and lifts her hoof slightly off the ground as if it was. There is a moment where she considers not answering him at all but finally she glances back up at him from where she had been considering her “injury.” “Sometimes it’s just worth running from.” She finally says, looking at him uncertainly. “Why did you stop me?” She finally asks, still panting hard as her blood begins to cool and the chaotic rhythm of her pulse begins to calm.
