"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
06-21-2022, 02:55 PM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2022, 05:48 PM by Electra.)
Electra
The afterlife was a distasteful place, it was by mere accident she found herself here. It lacked the true luster of life in its own purity, souls would cross the veil every now and then, a constant update on how the world was faring without her. Admittedly she was trapped, being here for so long, weakening herself as if the afterlife was preying upon her own life source, like a vampire slowly sucking her dry. The feeling was intoxicating, knowing death was so close, his seductive coils wrapped around every inch of her translucent body. She relished in the feeling, yet death never came for her, for she wasn't his to claim as his own. She was forever unattainable and perhaps that's why death found himself so infatuated. This feeling was her fuel, although weakened within the grounds of the afterlife she lay in wait, patience showed no kindness to her. The world changed around her as she waited years upon years grasping onto this feeling with a sense of perhaps this will be her way out? With death lying in wait for her, she felt a spark within her body as this feeling became engorged within her, sparks running down her every limb as she knew it was time. Her strength had gathered just enough to perhaps transport herself out this place, she knows when she leaves she will be powerless to what lies ahead, and yet with every ounce of strength in her body she carries herself across the veil and into the land of the living.
Color, everything was so colorful, it was something she had dearly missed not necessarily the color of the world but the color of herself. Her own vibrance had returned, no long ghostly and translucent her body mirrored that of a self she once knew, and wanted to know again. Her plum and opalescent body danced in the light, her iridescence glinting. Neon eyes wandering over every inch of her immortal body, she appeared to be within the peek of health yet she felt otherwise. Despite overjoyed by her own miraculous return, she still felt weak within her bones, as if her own mind was emaciated. The need to lay down was insatiable as it edged through every part of her body, her purple legs buckling beneath her own weight as she collapses giving into her most primal instincts, self preservation.
She lays there for a moment, the ombre tresses of her mane creating small whisps within the wind as she allowed her eyes to close, her senses lighting up as tremors of electricity flickered through her body. The feeling was so unnaturally natural, she had forgotten what it is what like to be alive. Her nares flared as she took in a breathe, tasting the air, it was sweet and musky lingering with hints of sex. It must be autumn she noted, as the scents of bodily fluids lingered, she loved this time of year where men would take women like a hound takes a bitch. She missed toying with men, making herself unattainable yet entertaining their desires. She soaked up the feeling of being wanted, but never allowed it.
Her mauve lobes swivel to the chatter of equine lingering about, she doesn't know where she is but she knows she must rest for a moment, just enough time to allow herself to get moving. She can feel this world has changed, places she once knew were perhaps no more, and she wanted to explore this changed world. She had spent too much time allowing herself to waste away in the afterlife, it was time she started living.
She can feel the presence of another, or perhaps many within this area, opening her brilliant fuchsia orbs she gazes outwards, a sweet melodic voice erupting from her chest, "Hello?"
There is an undeniable urge pressed deeply in his bones. One he has never bothered denying. It drives him day after day, pushing him to do more. He is not a man meant for peace, not a stallion made for quiet, not a creature of steady heart. It fuels the recklessness that has spurred so much change. Many would not consider it good, but to Reave, it simply is. And he lives for it, breathes it into his lungs alongside the air. It pulses through his veins, the very heartbeat of his soul.
It’s never enough. Like an addict, he always needs more.
The hush is undeniable, quiet in a way he cannot like. But he continues, because there is little else to do. His restless legs carry him constantly away, just as easily as they carry him home. Today is one of the many days he wanders, lost to something he can’t quite name (not that he even bothers to try).
The scents of the field are much like any other place, but there is an optimism that lingers here. Reave enjoys it. He is an optimistic creature by nature, though perhaps not in the same way others are. His is a cruel optimism; one borne of too much knowledge and not enough compassion. Yet it is still a belief in the better (though, better for whom, it’s difficult to say).
Rune, as ever, remains Reave’s sanity. A whisper inside his head that reminds him of the many promises he has made. Still, he cannot compete when the bone-armored stallion is drawn by a curious disturbance. Something other that is irresistible to someone whose mind is as plagued by curiosities as Reave’s is. He watches with a vague sense of displacement as the woman crumples to the ground, threads of past, present, and future pulling him in too many directions at once.
In the end however, reality wins out. Barely.
It isn’t until she senses him that he bothers speaking though. He hadn’t been certain she retained enough awareness to even know he was there, watching. It seems, however, that she does.
With a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his lips, he steps forward. His bright blue gaze is unmistakable despite the bone that shrouds it, impish and sharp in its clarity. “Hello,” he replies noncommittally before taking a step closer. “I was trying to decide whether you were dead or alive.” Head tilting slightly, he allows his smile to bloom, though there is nothing gentle in that expression. “I’m still undecided.”
06-28-2022, 09:07 PM (This post was last modified: 06-28-2022, 09:08 PM by Electra.)
Electra
The footsteps of many linger, yet she hones in on one who draws closer to her. The shallow steps of footsteps, cause her ears to pin defensive yet withdrawn. Her greeting may of been something of a more friendly nature, but she is most definitely not that, not now while she lays dormant. The very aspect of her vulnerability creeping in while she barely grips onto her own consciousness as if the very string holding her together could snap at any moment. Although defensive she allows her body to relax, serving as a reminder to her end goal. It would be foolish to waste all her strength on a stranger who happened to be a witness to her return.
Electra hesitates as the man speaks, drawing closer to her as his words fester in her brain she allows herself to study him for a moment or two. Vibrant fuchsia eyes darting about the stags chestnut body, analyzing every carving on the bones adorning his muscular body. Her mind swirling, trying to decipher whether this individual was friend or foe, or perhaps neither. His question is simple, perhaps straight forward for the average creature in beqanna, but not for her. And she wasn't quite as willing to relinquish her secrets just yet.
"Wouldn't you like to know." She teases, her tone grows playful yet carved with an edge. A mischievous smile curls on pale lips, "Care to share a name, stranger?"
Secrets are such a strange thing. Only secret as long as one can keep them from leaking out. And with Reave, secrets always seem to be escaping somewhere. It’s not often he cares enough to pluck them from their solitude and hold them to the light, but it’s nearly impossible to determine when he might decide to do so. It’s the nature of unpredictable creatures, and Reave is that to his very core.
So, though she might close her lips around the things she wishes to keep quiet, Reave knows they are there anyway. Waiting to be laid open, as exposed as the bone he wears outside his skin.
His mobile lips curl upwards at her teasing rejoinder, the biting edge to her voice drawing a spark of amusement from the chestnut and bone stallion. “Oh, I do,” he replies cheekily, the devilish glint in his eye saying far more than his words. Hinting at the knowledge that is already his. That has been his since he stepped foot in the field and saw her crumpled on the ground.
Shifting restlessly, he half circles her, head tilting as he eyes her with undisguised curiosity. A quick grin flashes across his mouth at her question, followed by an equally impish reply. “Only if you give me yours in return.” He pauses, blue eyes gleaming. “I’m Reave.”