"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
08-23-2017, 04:24 PM (This post was last modified: 08-23-2017, 04:26 PM by Clark.)
This place confused him. Sure, he’d been here all his life and probably had more effects than he intended (or even knew about) on the population of Beqanna (here’s looking at you, Kirin!), but this bizarre, crazy land still baffled him to no end. One second he was wandering all by his lonesome. The next he was helping his new friend get vengeance on those uppity fairies. And in the next, his magic didn’t work anymore! So, rather than try to fix it like a good citizen, he instead, in typical Clark fashion, decided to take a nap and let the world roll by him.
And slept he did for several years. Well, metaphorically. He woke up occasionally, ate when he had to, probably drank, and pooped a few times in between too, but in general, stayed out of the public view.
Until now, that is. The last couple of months he’d felt like he was getting back to his old self. He didn’t know what the other horses in Beqanna did to fix the world, but he saw his magic slowly returning. And with that, he felt himself get increasingly more curious. But in his little hideaway out in the woods, he hadn’t seen a soul for years.
So on this crisp autumn day, special in no specific way, he took a big long yawn and lumbered over to the meadow. His walk was somewhere between a walk and a snail’s crawl, but for what slow pace he made, he sure brought enough noise about his entrance. Each stride was by no means graceful, and each step made a hearty crunch. But he really had no need to hide. It wasn’t like he was important in this world, whether in a good or bad way.
Finally, in what might have been literal weeks later, he stumbled into the clearing of the meadow. His half-glazed over eyes took a quick glance about at the various groups. To no one’s surprise, he found no sign of anyone that he recognized, and so he decided to make himself comfortable where he was. After all, that long walk was tiring, and he couldn’t help but begin to doze off…
fate she hears me | fate stand near me | fate state clearly whether there will be another card
@[Dovev] / @[Absenthium] / or whichever pony you wanna send!
He tried to help with every little thing he did, she knew. Tried to walk her out of this… depression? That was what they did. Every morning, they walked. Never with a place in mind, and only on their island. Sometimes Reilly would try to talk to her. But he most often ended up holding a one-sided conversation, talking at her as she held her silence. She didn’t even know what was wrong with her anymore. Why couldn’t she be that fierce, vibrant woman she once was? Why couldn’t she find herself anymore.
Or maybe this was who she was now. A pathetic shell that was only Wallace on the outside, and an empty husk within.
Today, though, she forced herself to be a little bolder, fought her insecurities and got off that island. Or maybe it was only more weakness, avoiding everything at her back as she put more distance between her and her home, her family. And soon enough, she found herself at a stranger’s side. She thought he might have reminded her of Reilly, the calm and steady way he was just there. Maybe that was why she stepped up to stand there as though she knew him.
She still didn’t speak though, could never seem to find the words to say to anyone. Once upon a time, she could talk so easily, typically a sharp, sarcastic jab with a silver tongue, not really giving a damn that she often offended people. That was their problem, not hers.
But she couldn’t find that girl anymore.
So she settled with a quiet sigh, staring out at the dumb meadow bums and not really paying attention to anything. Her brown eyes were dark and dull, the intricate lace of scars at her hips completely forgotten - so used to them now. It was his fault she was this way, the one that put them there. ...No, it was her fault. So stupid. She shouldn’t have gotten attached, shouldn’t have fallen for him, especially after everything. And now she had to watch him and his goddamn happily-ever-after there at home, watch her children adore his woman and forget their mom. Why would they want anything to do with her anyway, when all she was anymore was miserable.
