[open] Silence, come what may; Any

[Famkee]

Silence.

It plagued the land, each footfall against the earth set a new boundary for her she wasn’t sure she wanted to discover. Secrecy lie behind every corner and although it might sound exciting to some,she couldn't shake the coils wound tight in her gut. She wasnt sure just how long her legs carried her through unfamiliar territory, the bitterness eating away at her thoughts of what was or more frightening, what awaited her. 

It was rather dreamlike, senses of reality skewed into threads of the past she desperatley 
ran from, and god damn them all to hell. She knows she should be aware, sight and smells, 
but the numbness is a contagion, ripping through her soul as she watches it burn.
These embers keep her going, and perhaps somewhere she hopes, dreams of solace but hope
is a fickle thing, one that cages her future in uncertainty. For once in the horned mare's existence, she allows herself to surrender, but not without strife. Could she keep going like this? Must the terror grip her so tight that she couldnt breathe, nor open herself to experience this life the way it was supposedto be lived. She knew this, a constant battle of paralysis of the mind, but it protected her, kept her safe.

Silence. 
The air bit at her hide, mouth dry from the cold, her throat begging for a drink to wash 
down the the feeling that she was very much alive. Her darkened golden pelt was like a
beacon against the contrast of the sheets of sprinkled white, she stuck to outskirts of the
meadow like glue, but it was nearly impossible to not be seen as the rebirth of winter
haunted the field leaving it desolate. there was always something beautiful about it, life
and death. Knowing that eventually, the land would flourish and be born anew, but for now
she relishes the feeling of her mane blanketing the skin of her neck offering some warmth
as her breath casts out clouds from her muzzle, the wind is chilling and unwelcome. 
She wonders if she herself is unwelcome here, golden orbs scanning the barren hills of 
the meadow almost waiting for something, someone to appear. Her structure was hardly lithe, 
from what she could reminisce about her childhood, she was rather modest in size if compared
to her parents, or her long lost brother. She believes the strength of her boodline is whats 
kept her alive all these years alone. Feminine is she still, one could not mistake. 
Her mothers beauty graced her physicality, a robust bodice, yet a contradictory 
elegance enriched her anatomy. A body built for war, not parading on the sidelines, 
which is exactly what she finds herself doing. 

She pauses frequently to listen, and thankfully her welcomed silence is her friend time
and again. Completley empty is the land, no, she finds. the scents of others are faint,
but very much there, as are muted hoofprints scattered in paths across  the pelts of ice. She wants to turn around and run, but her legs protest beneath her, nearly shaking her frame. She tries to remember the last time she properly stopped, gave her mind and body alike a rest, but its a cold dark place she doesn’t find the need to revisit. Isolated she has been for so long she isnt sure what would come of an interaction. Certainly its something she's fantasized, but when the world has been so unkind, frankly Famke wants it to stay that way, inside her mind. You might think she'd want to escape the confines of solitary abandonment, to stop being so selfish, cut the ties of this endless loop somehow she finds comfort in. 
Yet, its her home, and why would she want to leave it?

[Malik]

It had begun with the rising of the sea, with the loss of the southern quarter. Then had come the fog in Taiga, and the storm in Tephra, and now it feels as if the whole world has taken a massive inhale. They are waiting, poised before the next breath. But what will it be? A gasp, a scream, a shout of relief?

It feels as though he walks a precipice far thinner than the narrow line of hoofprints toward the Meadow, and he wonders as he walks if anyone else feels the same. He cannot worry his younger sisters, and he doesn’t want his mother or cousin to doubt his courage. They never would, of course, even if he speaks of it, but the fear of it remains nonetheless.

Malik shakes his head, as though by the action dispelling some of the concern he feels. The motion is effective, or at least it seems so, for a small smile appears in the place of the earlier frown. His pace does not change, his stripped legs carrying him leisurely through the snow-covered plain and into the Meadow

Midwinter is never lively, yet the stillness of the world around the black stallion is broken only by the soft lament of a cold wind. It lifts the black hair of his mane and tail, and ruffles the iridescent feathers along his shoulders and the thick winter coat he wears. His sharp eyes take in the world around him, settling on the brightest speck of color that he can find.

It is a golden mare - buckskin, he sees as he draws closer, with shading that reminds him of a summer’s forest floor - and an impressive horn. She’s a stranger, as are most that live outside the borders of his mountain home, yet the smile that Malik gives her is warm. There is no sign in his bicolored eyes (one orange, one electric blue) that he is not entirely at ease, but he has done this so many times that it feels almost natural.

“Hello,” he says, stopping just far enough away that he need not raise his voice to be heard over the shush of wind on snow and frozen grasses. “I’m Malik.”

@Famke

[Famkee]

Her silence is short lived, however the welcoming sounds of running water blossom the midlands with life 
and it's like music to her ears as she begins to venture further into the open of the winter lit meadow. 
It's drab this place in its throes of death, but Famke imagines in spring what beauty beholds the rolling hills
and mountain peaks. What few trees sprout from the ice are withered, spidery talons in dormancy that grab 
at her pelt as she passes through. Dusk begins to paint the sky with its colors, her muzzle pointed to meet the 
sun's farewell as it sets over the alps. A small grin crept across her lips greeting the darkness that offered her 
relief, cover and most of all comfort. Living in the shadows isn't a stranger to her, in fact it's a best friend, one 
that she can hardly wait to see each night. Often she thinks of her brother, her secluded sibling who was in her 
life for such a short while but she wanted to share this with her kin, a new start, a new life for them both. 
She begs for it, a grasp of buoyancy to keep her head at the surface at least long enough for the horned mare 
to see clearly; See what was in front of her, not behind, not digging a hole that's long reached the bottom.

To her dismay, the river is covered by a film of solid sleet, thin enough though to break, she thinks. Approaching 
the river, she breaches the ice with a cautious calculated hoof just big enough to dip her velvet maw, falling in 
wouldnt be the best thing to do unless she wants to freeze even more than she already is. She drinks, swallowing 
the knot that refuses to disperse as she sees him, warily but confident enough to propose her with his presence. 
Not expecting any company, Famke is on the alert splaying her hooves readily, keeping her head low to the water, 
merciless horn directed at the stallion's chest. He reeks of a male, and she knew she could smell something on the 
wind but chose not to listen, as Famke often does. His flavor is almost sweet, musky, and inviting. He isn't all that 
threatening, the small smirk he wears stains his lips like its made to be there, a cordial greeting that should ease her 
worries but yet, she remains stoic. He's quite the spectacle, and she almost envies the black of his coat, like the night 
sky easily blendable into the fray, adorned with striped markings of a predator. He also sports a pair of horns, like her 
nonetheless as her golden eyes explore all he has to offer brazenly. His voice is soft, warm even and she finally takes a 
breath she wasn't aware she was holding. She ponders what his parents must've looked like to birth such an equine, each
time she inspects the stallion there's something new, feathers garnish his shoulders, and his eyes differ in their color as 
he in turn gazes back at her, hopefully. Hope. there it is again to taunt her so. She looks lackluster in comparison, though 
her simple markings shine in his uniquness. Her ebony tail swishes at her hocks, ears unsurely flattened as they tuck away
 hidden inside her mane. She barely realizes he even produced his name, Malik, a stranger offering such privacy Famke couldn't 
grasp. She isn't sure what to do, or even say. She doesn't want to look nervous in front of the stallion, so she holds her ground,
 shoving the distrust down far enough to where it was still seen. "Are you always this friendly?" She says, voice low brushing the silence between the two. 



@ Malik

[Malik]

He’s no intention of coming any closer, so while he does glance at the pointed tip of the stranger’s horn, it is with polite curiosity. Her range is impressive, Malik thinks, his own pointed tines lack such span. Her inspection hadn’t gone unnoticed, but rather than return the favor, he instead has watched her face for a reaction. Only now does he inspect the horn, pointed directly at his chest, but given the distrust he’d seen in her brown eyes he’s not at all surprised.

The dappled woman asks if he is always so friendly, and though she might not have meant it in jest he huffs out a genuinely amused breath anyway. He does so as he takes a single - long - step away, just to make it more clear he’s no intention of lunging forward to attack her at the water’s edge.

“Only when I want something,” he answers as he does, the amusement clear in his voice, though he carefully schools his expression back to the same polite interest with which he’d been regarding her horn after a moment. “I’m looking for someone, and was hoping you might have seen seen her.” Rather than continue as he might have, Malik pauses, waiting to see how the unicorn responds before he elaborates.

There is risk in approaching strangers, but not enough to deter him. He is a warrior of Hyaline after all, a descendent of the Pack that once ruled the craggy peaks. A trained warrior, though still lacking the plethora of scars worn by the truly seasoned. Today though, he is simply Malik, who is looking for his sister and hopeful this horned stranger might have seen her.

@Famkea

[Famkee]

His considerate vigilance isn't neglected by her, in fact she manages to soften a bit as the stallion decides it's a good

idea to give her a bit of space. Isolation is quite a lonely thing, one that shrouds perception like cement, unmoveable,

and stubborn is she in her ways of thinking. It's been so long since Famkee has even seen another soul, afterall her 

social skills were likely quite rusted, so the attitude she gives him isn't intended more, justified. She still wonders about

her brother, often she longs to explore the unknown with her sibling, but her searches become less sought after after 

each year that passes. Had he escaped the famine like her? Is he still searching for his sister, the only family that remains

of their blood? 

Malik speaks again, and the mare cant help the snort that rattles her snout, her hooves shuffling the ice 

crunching beneath her weight. Famkee isnt sure if she heard him right, ears suddenly swiveled forwards attentive, he also

looks for someone and for a fleeting moment she battles asking him if he's seen her brother, but as crazy as it sounds to 

even question, she waits for the right moment. 

"this land," She pauses, not wanting to revert her gaze from him but she does anyways, gesturing with her muzzle to the 

mountain peaks kissing the sky behind her. "there's others here? You're the first i've seen." He must know she's a virgin to the valley, 

though the stallion doesn't look sickly, he appears healthy, socializedand friendly. "I'm afraid I can't offer you any help in that regard." 

But maybe he could? She wants to take advantage of this, 

this must be his home, or at least some part of it, he's seen many come and go, perhaps he's seen the one she mourns to 

discover. "I-" She pauses again, her tongue losing the courage to create her words, afraid that maybe he has seen him, and 

that he's dead, gone again, or not at all. His answer couldn't be any worse than what's piled up inside, gradually rising in its 

poison the longer she decides to shove it down. "I also search for someone, but I have yet to find him, it's been years.." Famkee

surprises herself offering such information, but the desperation claws at her throat, undying in its burden. Her forelock flows in 

the chilled breeze, hiding the pain that bores its way into her gaze, gradually drifting to the snow-clad earth. You might think 

that after so long the ache would subside, or at least be forgotten for a little while. Being alone amplifies the intrusive thoughts, 

no distractions to sate them, and yet here he is, the stallion could be her savior in more ways than one. In fact, whether she likes 

it or not, he's helping her. this frustrates her, she doesn't need anyone's help, she's gotten this far on her own, but god it's frightening

at how good it feels to see his face, any face. She wonders if he's even real, a mirage, a ghost to haunt her along the way. She can't 

help herself as she asks, foolish or not she doesnt care at this point.  "Are you real, Malik?" His name falls off her lips carefully, 

she almost waits for him to take her away like a wraith, wrapping her in cloaks of night to join the afterlife. 

@ Malik 

[Malik]

One dark ear swivels at the sound of crunching snow, the noise indicative of a shifting of her weight. Not the worst possible reaction then, Malik decides: she’s not just going to try and run him through. He does not let himself relax though, for though she’d sounded amused there for a moment, there is always the chance that he has misread. The winged stallion’s attentiveness comes from a childhood filled with adults prone to violence and quicksilver emotions, then perfected by a concentrated effort to learn how to be a proper diplomat.

The latter gives him the ability to keep always the light of amusement in his bicolored eyes, even if it flickers for a moment at her response.

“There have been…” his voice trails off, for how does one explain that part of the world has fallen into the sea and parts of it plagued by storm and fog? “Some strange things happening.” That hardly covers it, but he’s not time to elaborate the realization of what she’s said sinks in at her repetition. She’s not seen Sickle.

Now is the time to leave, because there is nothing else she can offer him. He’s ready to do so, but then the quiet stammer that he’d planned to ignore becomes instead a confession that she, too, is searching for someone.

Empathy for those outside his family isn’t something he often bothers with, finding it too emotionally draining. Better to keep everyone at a distance. He cannot read her face, shielded as it is by her blowing forelock, so he doesn’t immediately reply. Now is the time to leave, before he becomes invested in whomever it is that she has lost.

But he doesn’t, instead turning his head just slightly at her question. The oddity of it is met with a thoughtful frown and a pursing of his dark mouth: considering, but not with an entirely serious intent. “As real as you are, I suppose.” He finally answers, and his brows raise as though waiting her to prove her own existence.

Only for a moment though, because he is still thinking of Sickle, and who this stranger who has only just arrived in Beqanna might be looking for. “Who is he? The one you’re looking for, I mean.”

@Famkee

[Famkee]

Intuitive he seems, watchful as he tactfully reads her body language, and for a moment Famkee feels like she's on display. Is she really that transparent? As dusk's colors begin to fade and replaced with twinkling blankets of stars, the stallion would disappear anywhere else, but here he offers a stark contrast against the ivory plain. For a question she'd thought so simple, he takes his time to savor it, even going to leave if it werent for her interupting curiousity. Her interest continues through the apprehensive lilt in his eyes, for someone to be so friendly he's also very quick to leave. "only when i want something." His words tangle in her mind, pinching her brows to knit together. true to his word, she thinks as the stallion lacks foundation, empathy or maybe the absence of concern to maintain her. She doesnt blame him really, she wouldnt have been so generous herself. What he does do, is turn on his heel and stay at her rather bizarre proposal. Afterall, he seems real, she can still smell his skin, his hooves carve the same prints in the snow, his muzzle emits the same breath ghosting from his body. If she is imagining this, there's no going back and maybe she really is dead. the stallion could pass for a grim reaper of sorts, Famkee wouldnt be surprised. She doesnt press it any further, but it does make the slightest grin want to show it's face on her velvet maw, precious as it does but only for a moment. She feels real, tangible enough for the fallen snow to collect on her tasseled mane and spine, its validity sending a chill down to tremble the muscles of her legs. 

She wants to ignore his pressing question, it gnaws at her chest begging to be set free. thats why she's even entertaining this at all, to find her brother. She might be lying to herself, but she's become a master to her own games. "this place, it's your home?" She asks firmly like she wants to squeeze the answer right out to her liking, when she knows nothing about her surroundings it daunts the golden mare, makes her mind wander putting her in a dangerous and vulnerable spot she doesnt appreciate. "I've lost my brother, I've made it on my own for many moons now. I continue to look for him despite each failure."  that failure is a venom, coursing through her veins and bleeding her dry, day by day it's her fault, her cowardice for not dying with honor, but running away from it all and living with the fact that she doesnt even know.  She can still remember his face for the last time, brindled with blood that was everyone else's but his, calling out for his sister in the chaos that enveloped all that they knew. She lost everything that day, a piece of her was left to rot in that soil and Famkee wonders if she'll ever get it back. 

"And you search for?" She doesnt know if she really cares, Famkee hasnt seen a soul for many miles, certainly with the likes of this region. Although if he can help her, Famkee ponders what she could possibly offer in return as a newcomer. Was there others, different herds, positions she could excel? She thinks too far ahead, but the thought of making something of her talents, utilizing her skills in a way to benefit not only her grief but counter the flesh eating numbness that spreads like the winter air around them. This has been her survival toolbelt for years, distance is company while feelings are the enemy.  Her soul itches for more, there has to be more. But is this what she wants? Her soul out craves her mind, her body and for once it's screaming at her to dive headfirst. "My name is Famkee." She gives a callous nod, bending her neck to bow ever so slightly at her feeble attempt at poliletness. Her eyes flash a fiery gold, long lashes fluttering the aurlien jewels so bright in their glow they cast a faint radiance atop the ice, the gold spreads like snakes up her horn and making its home there for a few seconds before slowing fading to be absorbed, tucked away to hide again. 

@ Malik