maybe tomorrow || any

[Bastille]

it's got to get easier somehow

It was hardly movement at all, one could say; a subtle shifting of bones beneath a weary and taught form. The chill of the morning air brushed against the short and fine hairs, as though checking to see that they actually existed. His breath was inaudible, a silent exhale that left his nostrils with little more than a twitch. One might have thought he was sleeping, for how still his pale form was in the grass. Sleep, however pleasant it might have been, was not something that found Bastille for very long. When it came, it passed swiftly, as if afraid he might cage it like a fledgling bird. The thought curved his lips, his bare neck shifting as he quelled the laughter that threatened to break the silence.

Silence was something he treasured. He had grown so used to it over the years, that one might call it home for him. With that thought, he remembered just where he was and what he had to do. He drew himself up, long and limber legs baring the weight with almost feline ease. He didn't know what he was doing here, to be frank. He was only somewhat intrigued by this new terrain that surrounded him. So used to the desert that the idea of living elsewhere seemed otherworldly. He wasn't built for the easy life. He was built to suffer. He was built to live from afar. To dream unattainable dreams. To live half a life, for it was what he was given. Where would that fit in here? What was he doing here?

Agitated, his body was a ripple of muscles along a perfectly lined spine when his legs danced beneath him. The energy built, crystal blue eyes searching the landscape with some new found need to be anywhere but here. He couldn't leave the desert, could he? He wasn't made for green pastures. He wasn't exactly good company for others. He was the lone figure that was shadowed by the glistening setting sun beyond the desert sands. He wasn't the one that raced the wings, but one that ran within the raging sand storms as they buried the living beneath their cruel granules. Before he knew it, the pounding in his head was more than just his heartbeat. It was the pounding of his hooves over that soft earthen floor. It was a rhythm in its chaos. It exerted his lungs. It relieved his nervous energy. His body was perfectly in tune with the humming wind that pushed back at him as he thrust his body onward.  

Bastille

[Krone]

Krone

you could be the king

She is the Keeper. 

Not queen, not leader, but Keeper of Ischia. She was there to keep the island alive, keep Her inhabitants safe. She was not there to conquer or control, as her father would have had it. She was there to keep the island thriving. 

However, with this role, came responsibility, and she found herself not getting much alone time in her schedule. Too many to talk to, too many to watch over, too many to keep from hurting her home. The stress did not easily get to her, but sometimes, she just needed a break.

The tide was low this time of day, exposing the sandbar that led from Ischia to the field where she had once wandered aimlessly. But, she chooses to fly, of course, sailing over the unusually calm sea to the mainland. The warm summer air ruffles through her green feathers, the sun keeping a steady stream of heat onto her dark bodice. The feeling is familiar as it is comfortable - she wouldn't be herself without her wings, without that ability to dance with the ever-changing wind, without that view of the entire world around her. 

It is a short flight from the island to the field where she will take a few hours to graze. A few hours of her life without the weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders, and she would welcome them for that brief period. Hazel hues scan the area around her - mostly empty, save for a few horses here and there - until they settle upon a cremello stallion racing along the field's grassy floor. His gallop is unwavering, muscles flexing with each exertion of energy. As she tilts her head,  the jeweled shell upon her forehead catches a sun's ray, and light bounces off of it. She floats to the ground before him, tucking her emerald wings to her side, content to watch him run.  

but watch the Queen conquer

@[Bastille] sorry the post is kind of sucky!! Just wanted to get something up for ya.

[Bastille]

it's got to get easier somehow

Something glinting in the bright sunlight vaguely caught his attention, though one could assume he hadn't noticed it at all. As in tune with the workings of the sun in the desert, it typically meant someone or something was nearby. His lungs had not quite given in the burning sensation that gripped them, so he pressed on as though nothing had so much as drawn a thought from him. Pale skin was gleaming like gold beneath the beating rays, muscles working almost in unison to draw him eagerly toward some unknown. It wasn't that he was running away from anything. Truthfully, there was nothing to run away from. Solitude was not exactly something one would wish to escape, when the company of others seemed to cause so much internal strife. He didn't abhor the idea of company. He simply didn't seek it out for the simple fact that it typically brought a world of drama and he didn't care to exist in the same world as drama, much less the same instance of it.

Almost as though it was second nature, he peered sidelong to eye a figure that had quite frankly drifted down from the sky. He might have thought he was dreaming, if he'd ever dreamed before. Bay and green were not quite so common where he was from. Frankly, it was perfectly otherworldly to him in every sense of the word. He drew himself to a halt a few yards away, his eyes still plastered to the figure that stood so quietly she might not even have exited. His nostrils flared, drawing in some much needed oxygen to ease the pain in his chest, which finally heaved from the exhaustive run he'd taken. Suddenly, light a shooting star or a fleeting memory one didn't see coming, he stepped forward - his unnaturally long tail dragging along the grass behind him. Head tilted, he realized she'd been watching him. He couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed, for what was more natural than a run for a desert born like he? Oh, he was certain it probably seemed to her that he was running from something. He was quite certain that anyone would have thought some unseen demon was giving chase from a distance.

Swallowing, his voice came soft and reluctant from his lips, clearly unused for quite some time. "I am Bastille." It probably lacked the grace some of the grander introductions he was certain a female such a she was used to receiving. "May I ask your own name, Kem'falla?"Crystal blue eyes watched her for a moment, before he realized that perhaps she would prefer solitude to company. Would she not have approached him if she wanted to speak? How uncertain he was of etiquette and the rules of socializing. His muscles tensed for but a moment, the nervous energy gathering up again beneath the surface. "Sieks'ta. I'm not as familiar with etiquette as I should be. I hope my approach did not offend you." He remembered in the last herdland he'd trekked, that approaching a mare could be deemed offensive; taken as a sign of ill intent. Should he have waited for him to approach? It was strange to live in a world where he had to wonder such things. His father, Hades keep him, was infamous for his ability to both offend and not give a shit all at once. By all right, he should have grown to be like him. Luckily, Bastille carried his mothers countenance.

Bastille

@[Krone] It was great. I rambled a lot, so no worries. XD

[Krone]

Krone

you could be the king

For awhile, he doesn't seem to notice her presence. She watches from afar, observing how his muscles expand and contract with each well-placed movement. How his body glistens with sweat, almost to the point he is shining in the sunlight. Her leg cocks back in a relaxed fashion, wings pressed tightly against the curve of her dark bodice. 

When he finally sees her, she is surprised how quickly he approaches. She looks at the bend of his neck where a mane should lay, and tilts her head curiously at the lack thereof (she isn't quite sure if she's seen something like that before). An irregularly long tail drags behind him, picking up the debris the ground creates. A delicate smile curls on the edges of her lips as he states his name, and then asks if he is able to have hers. 

Bastille. She thinks to herself. A unique name for a unique stallion. 

"You may," She replies, chuckling softly. "I am Krone."

"Sieks'ta. I'm not familiar with etiquette as I should be. I hope my approach did not offend you." Krone tilts her head curiously. She hadn't thought his approach was rude, but maybe where he came from things were different. She gives him a reassuring grin. 

"You haven't offended me, Bastille," She tells him, nodding.  "Where have you come from? I haven't seen you around here before."    

but watch the Queen conquer

@[Bastille] I love your writing style, you're fine! This reply is a little lame though, so I'm sorry xD

[Bastille]

it's got to get easier somehow

"Krone." He echoed, testing her name on his own lips. It was unique, much as her coloring and the appendages that draped her back. She was a bird within another form, he mused. Perhaps shock would have been a good reaction to her visual affects, but he had learned that this life would never stop surprising him. He shifted, feeling somewhat uneasy about the fact that he hadn't minded his eagerness in such a hasty approach. He didn't want to startle her or make her feel as if she needed to safeguard herself from him. He had simply gone so long in his own company, that the idea of someone else keeping to themselves made him quite excited at the idea of joining them. Was it as asinine an idea as it sounded now that he was thinking it? Yes. Yet, one could not undo what they had done. Thus, he was fully committed to the notion of at least spending a moment of his time in conversation with such unique companion.

"I had hoped not." He offered with a slightly embarrassed grin, relief cooling the tightness of his nerves. He turned, intent on pointing the desert out to her in response to her question. Realization struck him, however, that the desert and the path he had trekked were nowhere to be seen. He had truly wandered farther than he'd originally thought. For a moment panic seized him. His muscles tightened and his jaw clenched, his own anger at his nativity in coming to this land, physically changing his disposition. It was hard for a creature such as himself to feel anger. That had to be the reason it dissipated so quickly. His form relaxed and he found himself offering to her a chuckle. "I might have shown you my homeland, had I not lost the path that I left it on. My home was the desert." Turning back to her, his blue eyes searched for some notion that she was not going to tell him to go back where he had come from. "Are you native to these lands, Krone?" He spoke questioningly and quietly, testing her name out twice on his accent with some bemusement for how it rolled off the tongue.

She was the first equine he'd met in these lands and he wasn't at all certain of the kind of welcoming outsiders or newcomers received. He inhaled the scents around him, nostrils flaring to take in the aroma of the land and those within in. Recognition struck that this land was not claimed by one creature, but was that of a common area. There were far too many scents for one creature to have laid claim to it. Her own scent was far strong than the rest; the heady mixture of estrogen and that singular perfume each creature kept unique to themselves, reminding him just how far he was from his desert home. There were mares there, of course. She was not the first he'd ever come across. He, however, did a fine job of avoiding them and the stallions that trailed sniffing at their backs with lust filled irises. Yes, hers was a unique scent in that it did not smell of cactus flower or desert rose. It smelled somehow of salt and wood, sand and the crisp morning air mixed together. He found himself oddly comforted by it.

Bastille

@[Krone] Thank you. I'm rusty, but I think this one is a little better. lol

[Krone]

Krone

you could be the king

Krone listens to his words attentively. About how his trail back to the desert was lost, about how he is new here. He smells of sand and sage, it is welcoming in its own right. She smiles at him, the embarrassment on his face obvious. Soon he would find that not so many men in Beqanna are so polite to mares. 

"You could say that," She murmurs. The Beqanna she was born in was much different then the one she lived in now. Explaining this to him might take awhile, so she decides it would be best suited for another time. "I am the Keeper of a little island called Ischia." She reveals to him with a slight nod. 

but watch the Queen conquer

@[Bastille]