"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
A heavy cloak of fog surrounds him, deepening the natural gloom of the forest. He lay, the massive bulk of him, on a bed of damp nettles. The scent of pine spices the air heavily, but under that there is something darker.
Burning.
Pale vaporous fingers spiral and lift from his bay body. He is steaming in the winter damp.
The young stallion chose the spot where he lay, vulnerable, with care. Thick underbrush encircled him in every direction. To reach this spot he had made a tremulous crashing as he dragged his hefty body threw the interlaced twigs and branches. The dead brush hadn't resisted his weight or slowed his pace, but they had been loud. But now he had been here, practicing, for hours. He was aware that the drifting smoke he created could draw the attention of others. They are all so curious.
He wasn't necessarily avoiding others, but if he was going to be approached he wanted to know about it. He wasn't cautious, he was meticulous.
A look of concentration holds his features rigid. His eyes bore into the pine needles below his muzzle as they first steam then smoke as the water ininside and around them burns off. And then... slowly, beautifully, a slender tongue of flame reaches out from the dead foliage spiraling upward in slow motion.
Levi liked to be alone when he experimented with the dancing flames, his flames. Pushing his talent to its limit, stretching it until it hurt. The judgmental, wonder stuck, or indifferent gaze of others annoyed him. Compliments fell on deaf ears and criticism was usually met with a charming grin. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Alone with his thoughts and his fire, he feels almost happy. But happy isn't a feeling he will coddle. He is cynical, but also a dreamer in his own secret way. He has ideas, scenes that he dwells on, for his future. In his time spent alone he crafts them into compact sequences of events to come. His thought are tight and orderly.
Before him the shard of fire twist slowly as he works to manipulate it with precision. The steady flame coils like a snake then forms a sphere, lifting to his eye level. He manages his fire in slow and controlled movements. The sphere grows. It feeds on the oxygen in the air and he allows it to swell, consuming. He gives in to it, indulging it, fire always wants more. He doesn't work to hold her back.
Too much. The blazing orb begins to hum, quickly gaining size. Then it roars, now larger than him it floats above his body threatening to spread to the surrounding trees, nettles, world. He is momentarily exhilarated, tempted to let the flaming tempest roar, blaze on its own accord, send it galloping. Let the deadly red flowers bloom across the forest to masticate all life.
But instead he draws the crimson eye down around himself, crashing her into the damp forest floor as he rises to his full height. Around his ivory legs his lover suffocates with a whimpering hiss; bellows of swirling steam a token left.
Comparative silence. His breath is heavy but low, the small grove cracking with the residue of energy spent. He shouldn't have let the flame do as she pleased. He had been weak, obliging. It wouldn't happen again.
He groaned.
But oh, how he loved to watch her feed.
Levi
so scream you, out from behind the bitter ache.
@[jenger] I would love for any of his family to jump in! But literally anyone can come across him (he is making a scene) I'm just rambling trying to figure him out.
Something was off. It was the middle of winter, dammit. Who was setting things on fire, and how on earth was it still burning amidst the packed, wet snow and ice? Never one to leave things alone, Iset picked her way though the white blanketed underbrush in search of the source of these strange flames.
At the heart of the smokey air was a boy. About her age, but quite a bit larger; obvious even from his prone position on the ground. She cocked her narrow head in curiosity before drawing back behind the cover of the trees, desperately eating up every minute and specific movement the boy made. He hadn’t yet seen her; of this she was sure. The heavy cloud of smoke surrounding him was just enough to mask her presence and disguise her scent as a mere abnormality of the flame.
As she watched, a tendril of fire slowly emerged from the scattering of the leaves and grass that had settled beneath their hooves long before the snow had fallen. He seemed to be…controlling it somehow. She though back to Brennen and Ryan and even Amet with their ‘traits’ as they called them.
This must be another one.
And it was pretty damn awesome.
What appeared to be brown eyes (though she cannot see well enough through the haze to be sure) sharpen in a focus she had never seen matched in anyone or anything before, especially in someone so young. Slowly and cautiously, the strip of heat curves in on itself, rolling into a tight ball and seeming to gain confidence along with size. It rose higher and higher, now well over both of their heads.
Cautious eyes flew back to the colt lying in the brush, and Iset began to worry. If the fiery orb was given permission to lick at the trees as it was so striving for, would she be able to get out in time? She couldn’t leave Sakir again. It simply wasn’t an option. At this same time however, she was frozen in place, a stiff contradiction to the ball of flames that were writhing an changing above her.
Before she could open her mouth and tell the boy that enough was enough, that he was going to hurt someone, he commanded the tongues of flame to come crashing down around them, sending the water that had saturated the leaves and twigs into a frenzy of steam, trying their best to escape the heat.
By the time the cloud of vapor had cleared, she saw that he was on his feet, and was even bulkier and taller than she had previously estimated. His breathing was labored and a groan fell from his lips, evidence of the feat it had been to have instructed the flames as he did.
Having had quite enough of staying quiet and polite, Iset drew herself up to her full height and went crashing as ungracefully as she possibly could through the noisy undergrowth. “You know,” she began, a sort of no-nonsense bossiness accompanied by threads of wonder coming through in her tone, “I know a boy who can turn into a panther. And he can change colors,” she states matter of factly, thinking once more to Ryan. “And one stallion I know has wings. Big black ones,” she informs.
After a beat, her curiosity overcomes her once more and she speaks again before waiting for him to respond to her previous statements. “Do you control it completely? It looks like it got a little out of hand there for a while,” unaffected by her own rudeness, Iset simply watches the boy, awaiting his response to her prying questions.
there's an old man sitting on the throne thats saying
05-16-2017, 08:32 PM (This post was last modified: 05-16-2017, 08:34 PM by Levi.)
Levi's head snaps in the direction of the approaching visitor.
His face is angled, only half visible, and his inky eye watches as a filly nearly spills into the clearing. His powerful shoulders relax, just barely. She doesn't wait to speak, diving into conversation while he takes mental notes of her appearance. Her lithe metallic body, matter of fact attitude, and scars. Scars could be a sigh of weakness or strength, either way, they are unusual on a body so young. She continues to talk - throwing questions and statements at him. He lets her questions hang in the air between them. Now that his fire is gone the clearing seems to grow cold. Somewhere in the distance a raven calls out and his cry echoes, unanswered. Levi rarely bothers to rush.
After this pause he moves suddenly. He lowers his head snaking his neck toward her, lessening the distance by a step, but leaving a horse length between them. Now his red eye is turned to her, burning in its intensity. Evaluating her.
Finally he speaks. His voice is low, not quite as deep as it will someday, but still rich. "Well..." a grunt. "I would never want to be a slinking cat." His tone is bored, his words are evenly spaced. creating a strange contrast with the severity of his glare. "And everyone knows... Feathers can burn." a hint of a grin develops on his pale maw. Giving a glimpse of white young teeth.
Can you control it completely? She prods, but why tell when you can show.
The heavy stallion stares at her with his red eye, seeing if she can hold the contact. In front of his eye, seemingly from within his eye, a flame sparks and makes its way towards her. But it doesn't touch her. It forms into a long spire and hovers above her copper brow creating the illusion of a firey unicorn's horn. He likes the way the fire reflects off her metallic coat.
"And what is it that you can do? What makes you special, filly?" he says almost tauntingly. The fire flys upward, expanding before splitting into two. The two shapeless flames lower to each side of her unfurling into giant dragon's wings. The movement of the fire is delicate yet quick. He holds phantom wings far enough away from her flesh as not to burn her, just close enough that she should be able to feel the heat. His lips are pulled taunt into a smile, but a smile which does not reach his eyes.
Inside his head the fire pleads with him to let her taste the stranger. But he wants to know a little more about this chestnut girl before he scares her off. With any luck she will soon start shooting icicles at him or transform into a hellhound, maybe she will show him a trait he has never seen before.
The pride that she feels at having concealed herself for so long, especially from one so focused, unfurls and spirals deep in her belly, and Iset doesn’t even attempt to hide the smile that begins to curl on her lips. She watches him as she speaks, noting every little movement his eyes make as they travel over her body-eyes that, she could now see were split in color, one being a dark brown and the other a blood red. He stays silent for a while before dropping his head, lowering more to her level and reducing the gap between them while still leaving some space.
His voice is full and husky, much different than any other colt she had yet heard speak. Slim ears pricked forward in curiosity and her eyes narrowed at the switch she saw in his eyes. This boy was mean, and if he wanted to play? Oh, she could play.
She scoffed lightly and rolled her eyes at his pompous words, “You may want to be careful,” she mockingly warns him, “Even cats have claws,” she knows instantly that the downfall of this horse would be his ultimate underestimation of someone he perceived to be smaller, weaker than him.
Before she knew it, the light that had seemed to die down in the foliage below them rose again, flying slowly towards her. Though every instinct in her body told her to run, lest she get burned, the stubborn filly refused to waver and kept her flashing golden eyes on his, fighting the urge to watch in awe as the flames culminated above her head. She can feel the heat bouncing off of the top of her head, but again she doesn’t flinch. She had had much practice of this sort of thing in the Dunes; holding eye contact with Him, until he finally realized that he would not break her that day and he would turn and leave them be. For a while, at least.
He speaks again then, questioning what it is that makes her special, what she can do. The question catches her momentarily off guard, but she hides it well and her momentary lapse does not make it to her eyes. The heat touching her brow suddenly recedes, and though she wants nothing more to follow and track it with her eyes, she is determined to win this staring contest. The warmth reappears then, the flames now licking at her sides.
She smirks at his haughty question, “For one, my name is Iset. Not filly. Secondly, I, unlike yourself, don’t need to hide behind fire, or anything else for that matter. That is what makes me special,” she drops her voice to a whisper, as though her words will sink in better the quieter she speaks them, “I, unlike some, am not a coward. Tell me this, without your fire, what makes you special?” she demands, throwing his question back at him with a sarcastic grin resting her face.
She takes a step toward him, closing the remainder of the small distance between them, before Iset raises her head and brings the pair eye to eye.
there's an old man sitting on the throne thats saying
She doesn't flinch or even look at the dragon wings he had sculpted with the flame and he is slightly disappointed. He takes another look before folding them neatly away as she rolls her eyes like the child she is. Sarcastic too. The whole damn package.
Or maybe that wasn't sarcasm, maybe she actually meant it... telling him he need to watch out for cat's claws. He doesn't feel like clarifying.
Her downfall was going to be that hot little mouth. He had a feeling she wasn't as good at talking herself out of trouble as she was getting into it. "I, unlike yourself, don’t need to hide behind fire" That's a lie. The way her eyes are looking at him he bets she would hang him by the hooves if she could.
"or anything else for that matter..." So she has no trait or she's bluffing well, but with her hotheaded attitude he highly doubted she was holding back. She should learn not to reveal that too quickly. He would call her out, he thought he had pretty good odds.
"You shouldn't tell every stranger you meet in the woods that you are defenseless." He maintained his bored tone, despite the small burning in his chest he feels from her obnoxious attitude. His father had modeled the stoic well and Levi had followed. He expected her to balk at the word defenseless. Something like "I'm tougher than I look. You should learn to not consider yourself safe... blah blah" But to him she looked pretty tough already so he doubted it. Without a trait what she looked like was all she was, he thought he has the size of the matter. A tough, angry, shiny girl. She could probably could give him a bruise or two, maybe even a scar... but if it came to a fight she would be on the losing end, and he wouldn't even have to use a muscle.
Naively she brings her self even closer to him. At this distance he could wrap the two of them in flames and she would have no escape. He could send vines of fire up from the ground, ensnaring her legs and burn the whole damn Forest to the ground. But he doesn't.
She asks him what he would be without his fire. He has never considered this, heat and embers burn in a place deep within him. He was a smoldering fire in the flesh, how could he be without it? That wasn't a question worthy of an answer, he decides silently. What would she be without her lungs, or her legs? What would fish be without water? Flesh without blood?
Yeah, dead. He never has been a conversationalist anyway. And he's not about to dig into abstract musing with her.
For a moment he wonders what they would he doing or talking about if he had of greeted her like any normal horse would have. "Wow! A panther! That's cool!! My mom can actually read minds, which makes for some awkward moments growing up..."
Instead, he had greeted the abrupt intrusion with the friendliness of a hot brand.
"Are you just traipsing threw the forest looking for people who are minding their own business to disturb, Iset?" He gives her the dignity of her own name instead of tossing filly at her again. A large part of him just wants her to go away... the darker part wants to show her the danger she has put herself in. He is tired of her abrasive little voice.
If she wasn't going to appreciate his craft, or feed it, he had no use for the girl.
got a chick i call her lola, she feel like the ocean
Wanderlust had possessed the young blue mare. Her thirst to discover, learn, and collect was insatiable since she had left Taiga. All that she had called home had been lost. her mother and father and siblings were all gone. What tied her to Taiga? to live in the ghost of memories, to try and live in her mother's shadow? Never could Liv be that pure, to love like she did, to give ceaselessly and still more. Instead Liv must venture out and live amongst the wilds of Beqanna, praying to heathen gods, shattering her soul in sacrifice.
The set of the spring sun brings a collection of dew and early fireflies drifting through the forest drunkenly. The pale blue eyes of the indigo mare drink it all in with a small smile as she begins to look for shelter for the night. the forest soothed something is her unsettled soul...except wait, what was that? Two voice -male and female- are squabbling. Liv can not help but wonder what for. Lightly feathered hooves draw her closer to where a pair of horses, a male about her age and a filly not to much younger, stood with cross expressions and darting tongues.
"-minding their own business to disturb, Iset?" It is all the blue ears catch as she walks through a thicket of brush without bothering to quiet the sound. the white dotted brow looks at the pair with a bit of confusion as she smells the remnants of the fire, smoldering and sharp. "Are you all burning something?" Liv asks them bluntly with a slightly quirked nonexistent brow. She tosses the plume of blue that is forelock away so she may better see the painted male and copper girl. "Could you both try and not burn down the forest? The fairies would be pissed!" The young mare snorts. Truthfully, Liv is gifted with immortality so if Beqanna burned then let it burn but the young mare had already suffered enough with the Reckoning and a pair of reckless horses was not what the residents of the land needed right now.
05-28-2017, 11:46 AM (This post was last modified: 05-28-2017, 11:47 AM by Iset.)
She considers him briefly, just as he was doing to her. He takes his time speaking, choosing his words carefully and annunciating clearly, though he refrained from injecting much of any sort of tone into his low voice. She cocks her shiny head at his words, recruiting her best impression of him when she spoke again.
“And you shouldn’t assume every stranger you meet in the woods to be defenseless if they are trait-less,” a smirk touches her dry lips, “I may not win, but I’d bet I could give you a run for your money.” She may be temperamental, but she wasn’t stupid-this horse, though close to her own age, had at least six or seven inches on her, not to mention the fire. But he could rest assured she wouldn’t go down easily.
His eyes follow her as she comes closer, though the emotion inside them is hidden well. At his silence in response to her question, Iset perks up slightly and smirks, considering it a win for her even if he would think it to be the opposite. If she had at least stumped him, she could walk away knowing that their combative interaction had been at least somewhat successful on her end.
He questions her again, and she rolls her eyes openly at his rude words, “No,” she bit out, her quick temper and trademark acidic tone wrapping around her words as her voice becomes low and mocking of his, “I was traipsing through the forest to try and figure out who was stupid enough to be setting it on fire,” she gives him a brief once over, “But I guess that answers that question.”
His eyes grow darker but she refused to step away or turn her back on him; it simply was not in her nature.
Before long, their standoff was reprieved by the arrival of another young mare. However, in sharp contrast to Iset’s sharp metallic coat, this girl was blue, and quite a bit more so than even the waters of the Lake.
The Lake…she hadn’t thought about it since she had fled after her argument with Amet, but she missed her home, and she missed her brother. The longing shaped itself into a bitterness that was injected into her tone as she addresses the other mare, “Could you try not to be so bossy?” she questions rhetorically, ignoring the new girl’s first words. Her golden eyes roll in her head again, this time of their own accord, “Such a freakin’ goody-two-shoes,” she mumbles under her breath in response to her comments about the fairies.
Obviously, she was not immune to the power of the fairies; from what she had heard from whispers carried on the wind, the fairies had quite a bit of power over Beqanna itself, as well as it’s residents. But were they going to get angry and intervene over a controlled (or so he claimed) fire and a tense conversation (if one could even call it that)?
Doubtful.
She shoots a narrow glare at the blue girl, but keeps most of her focus on the splotchy stallion in front of her, still not trusting him as far as she could throw him.
And by the looks of him, she wouldn't be able to get him far.
there's an old man sitting on the throne thats saying
iset
I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
ooc: I'm so sorry its bad and took so long, I've been dealing with finals for the last few weeks and I haven't had any spare time on my hands
Now a striking blue mare pushes through the underbrush. But Levi can't hold back a laugh as she delivers her opinion followed by an exasperated snort. Let them think he doesn't have control over his fire - it would put him at the advantage if thing continued to escalate.
The crazy fire guy, you never know what he will do.
But this is all becoming very tiresome. Somehow, he has managed to attract not one, but two pissy bitches. He had to stifle an eye roll. Let the dogs play, he obviously had not one good reason to stay.
He watches Iset with judgmental eyes, as she throws her tantrum. He disengages mentally from the entire interaction, scolding himself for even engaging in the first place. She was flailing.
I can thing of an excellent reason to stay. She, his fire whispers to him. Internally, he trembles at her closeness. In his mind he can see her teacup muzzle dripping with flames, forming the words with blazing lips as her idea fills his mind.
He agrees. There's one woman he doesn't mind passing the time with. She is full of good ideas and delicious words. And he has suppressed her too long.
Iset's last word is leaving her mouth as the flames come. All he has to do is relax, and like the unfurling of a flag a wave of heat and flames spread from where he stands to the perimeter of his clearing. He would be alone again. They could bicker elsewhere.
The flames spread thin across the ground like a sheet of ice, but this ice roiled, this ice had an appetite for flesh. It's under all their hooves now, but hooves are hard and don't burn easily, if they move quickly they can leave him, relatively untouched. And he is fine with that, he just wants to be alone again. Alone with her.
Levi gives them a breath, a chance. Then, the fire grows taller, hotter. It's roaring, branches begin to snap in the heat, hot sap shooting and sputtering. He has no idea where the girl and woman are, he couldn't care less. Burning them in the process of claiming his space is a chance he is willing to take. Levi has eyes for one woman, one who puts all others to shame. She is made of perfect flame. And if anyone bothered to peer hard enough into the inferno, they would see her by his side.
Levi
so scream you, out from behind the bitter ache.
I believe Elle Belle is gone? So I'm wrapping this up, but feel free to add another post if you want, starting a new thread for the lost kids soon
