If there had ever been a plan, this wasnt it. The bloody stallion never saw himself without Merrik following close behind, and when he looks into the river and sees his reflection (alone) a shudder wracks through his perfectly moulded bodice. From the moment they decided that splitting ways would be best, Tyrinn's body felt foreign to him. New. The dull throb in his chest would fade over time but today it is fresh and greedy. It kicked him in the ribs and urged the painted unicorn away from the river and unto the road once more. He walks without feeling, swings his amber eyes without seeing, listens without hearing.
It would be a journey to find himself without his twin, for so long it had been only them. A single machine oiled to perform the same routine. It seemed as though someone's spirit had won out though, because the machine was broken, cast away into the far reaches of the Earth's mind.
The stallion only knows the field from stories, but is awestruck none the less when he sees it. All his life it had been nothing but the occasional family member to grace him, but this? Had there always been this many horses to exist? Tyrinn shook his head, tossing his wine streaked mane from his face as he sashayed forward into his new life. Into his own life.
As he walked he passed by those being easily chatted up by strangers , and others (a mare strangely olive in tone) fighting bitterly amongst their companions (a bloody paint like he and a mare black as pitch) what a vast variety Beqanna held. Of course horses had passed through the meadow where he and Merrik had resided, but never this many at once. So , he comes to a stop and admires them (and unbeknownst to him some ogled him as well.)
The stag had never been overly large, but the looks of him made up for it. From the tips of his hooves to his soot colored muzzle he was pale as snow painted in hot splotches of wine. His mane mirrored such a pattern and splitting his forelock was a shinning ivory horn. Though they weren't as expansive as his coloring his eyes were a warm auburn , the color of cooled embers. He had always been a looker.
With a heady sigh he settled into his hips, the exhaustion allowing him to be contempt with nothing more than watching for now.
(OOC: This is terribly short as it is written on my phone! I hope it is readable! I had muse so I put it to use. <3 )
The initial adrenaline of being a part of the Ischian mutiny has long since warn off of my gold-and-white skin. Slowly but surely men have been creeping out of the woodwork, drawn by the murmurs of change and brotherhood, nostrils flaring at the scent of revolution. I have tried to greet them, to make myself known to them. I am not yet two years of age, but perhaps the fact of my youth is why I have been so gregarious; I need to prove myself to these men as one who stands among them, not as a boy in the midst of legends.
He resembles me, though his patches are a rich red where mine are an easy yellow. Of course, as a stallion, he stands broader than me, and just a little taller; but the wings that I clutch to my ribs help to disguise the gangling nature of colts such as I, and the horn that glows faintly at the tip may persuade threads to think twice before taking advantage of my small frame. I haven't had the need for such things yet, but still, I am glad of them - and as I peer closer at this stallion, I realize that he too has a unicorn horn. Interesting.
I am walking towards him as he settles into his hips, passing by and weaving through clumps of other field-goers; the names of kingdoms pop up all around me. Nerine, Hyaline, Tephra - the powerhouses of Beqanna. My ears flick back at this thought, irritated to not hear the name of the future brotherhood kingdom out in the air - but that's why I'm here, after all. I nicker to announce my approach, and before long am settling myself before the stallion, my purple eyes looking into the embers of his own.
"Hello," I offer, disliking the way my voice bounces between the low of a man and the high of a child. "My name is Trekori; are you from Beqanna?" I ask because many are not, and get confused if I launch right into the come-start-a-revolution-with-me spiel. The wind buffets us some, and I shake my head, clearing it of some pale-gold forelock. Although I had intended not to speak again, my lips curl into a smile and I cannot help but add a last comment. "I like you're colouring by the way. Tasteful."
ooc - ((I couldn't in my right mind send Xiah to recruit because I haven't established her in real BQ yet at all but... In my head she lives in Ischia. And they should meet)).
The mind reading started in small spurts when the man was a child, the spurts only growing larger and more sporadically placed with age. It quickly became known to him however that this little party trick would never be something he could control, no matter how hard he tried. So when portions of the boy's thoughts filter through the bloody stallion's mind it is a fight to surpress the rising chuckle that burns gaily in his chest. What on God's earth would posses him to hurt a child? Despite what the boy wanted to be (a man, though how could he hardly be?) his gangly bodice and rushed mind gave him away quickly. Tyrinn offered the stallion a friendly gaze, he saw no harm in the golden warriors pale gaze and so he stays relaxed and allows him to speak.
When his own voice finds steady ground after days of silence, It is strange though not entirely as foreign as his body felt. Instead it gave new meaning to its words, a stronger, more alone meaning. This was it, this was his chance to make his own life. He could listen to whatever Trekori would say next, or he could simply ignore him and move on. (What on earth would he do?)
"Pleasure to meet you Trekori, I am Tyrinn."
His decision was made.
"Why thank you, I find it has suited me well,"
He continues replying softly to the comment on his own appearance. It always happened to come up, and there was that chuckle only lacking baritone (oh but the mirth behind it made up for the sound). It was a pleasant enough laugh, one that couldn't annoy or distract, it was calming and soft. An interesting sound indeed.
He realizes then that he had yet to answer the stallion's question. Did he have any right to claim his homeland was Beqanna and not the stone beaches of the after life? The smile faltered but too quickly to be easily noticed (-this is not to say that if one were looking closely enough he could not see it, for Tyrinn was sure they could-)
"I suppose you could say that."
Tyrinn muses, his milky red tail swishing dutifully at the summer flies. Beyond them the day was pleasant, a soft storm began to church in the south but it barely affected the safe haven of the field. Tyrinn grins despite himself.
"Do you reside here as well?"
He uses 'here' as an umbrella term for the entirety of Beqanna, God strike him if he was slightly curious! He was new to socializing and the strange happiness it brought to him spurred more words from his lips than had been spoken in years!
@[Trekori]
04-05-2018, 11:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-05-2018, 11:29 PM by Trekori.)
"Tyrinn," I chirp back, committing the name to memory. "Kinda has a ring to it hey? Trekori and Tyrinn."
My lips tug apart into a smile, weight sinking into my hips as this stranger puts me more and more at ease. His soft words and good looking smile remind me of Andulvar, the black stallion who'd taken it upon himself to "raise" me... Even though I have a perfectly functional father, and, as Tyrinn has picked up on, want exactly the opposite of what Var offered me. Still, the companionship had turned out to be a lot more fun than your regular father-son scenarios; after that little trip with the mushrooms in the forest, and the whole starting a revolution together thing, well, I guess I can get past the fact that he saw me as a kid. I am one I suppose. But I digress.
"Yeah, I'm from around," I offer casually in response once I have learned that he's from here, or at least, sort of anyway. My amethyst eyes snag on the male's handsome grin, and somewhere in my stomach a knot forms; but I push away the butterflies, mind too occupied with the politics at hand to try and decipher the massively fluctuating hormones of teenage hood that lead me to question my sexuality at nearly every turn. For the love of god, I'm interested in him as a brother of Ischia, not as a piece of meat like my brother Nihlus might be.
"Ischia, it's called. It's currently being... renovated, let's say." I squint a little at the wine-coloured stallion, trying to decipher his age; but considering the vast amount of immortals crawling through Beqanna, I decide to soldier on ahead with my line of conversation. "Do you remember anything about the bachelor kingdom, the Tundra? I obviously wasn't around then, but I will be around to see the brotherhood reformed." My eyes twinkle mischievously, one side of my lips quirking up into a characteristic grin.
Little do I know of his connection to that very kingdom; son of one of its most legendary kings, who was brother to Scorch. Yes, Errant - from his place in the afterlife, he must be grinning, for if this weren't fate, I couldn't tell you what was.
@[Tyrinn]
He had never known the tundra as his father had -at the thought of him a fond smile crosses his face, soon Papa, soon.- but the mention of it's reincarnation (or what might be) of sorts sparks the crimson stallion's interests. Tyrinn turns his amber gaze to the stallion and shakes his head gently.
"My father...he told me stories."
Tyrinn vocalizes, not yet willing to give up that much. (Not that it was a secret, but it was personal. Treasured.) The information didn't have to be everyones he supposed, not everyone had to know as much about him as Merrik. A brief blooming of pain shoots through his chest and Tyrinn turns his gaze towards the field once more, his eyes shooting rapidly across the figures beyond them.
"I wasn't around for it either sadly."
He is picturing what Errant may have been like when he was alive. Tyrinn had only ever known the ebony stallion as he had been in the after life (he was sure his father with breath couldn't be much different, but the image amused him no less) and his mother?... A soft breath escapes him and the pain is gone, only replaced by fond memories of his foal hood.
"Im interested in hearing how you are going to do this... If you have time to tell me of course."
Tyrinn offers, trying to pull himself from his thoughts once more. Curiosity was an interesting thing that could rear its ugly head once in a while, and Tyrinn found it peering out at him from thick lashes at the mention of the Tundra.
The stallion mentions his father with a thoughtful shake of his head, and I can't help but wonder why my father never told me stories of the kind that Tyrinn's did. But I bite off the thought gently, allowing myself to be comfortable with the upbringing I've had; I am loved by my parents, and they've given me enough to get started on my own. Many in this land cannot come close to saying the same of their own guardians.
And of my brother's... For Tyrinn, the thought of his own causes his eyes to flash to the field, but when I think upon them (Takei, Daemron, Nihlus), the feelings are more subdued. Takei has joined me in Ischia to help with the reformation, and Nihlus is skulking along the beaches too. If I knew that Tyrinn has a brother, I'd invite him along; then again, if I understood the complex relationship between the pair, I surely wouldn't. So in the end, my ignorance works out in my favour, and I am left to simply wonder at the way the stallion's amber eyes roam over the other horses as if to settle on one thing would be asking too much of him.
But at last, his quiet reminiscing ends, and he prompts me to speak further on the subject. I nod, gaze dropping momentarily as I gather my thoughts. I inhale to speak, and raise my violet eyes to his amber ones. "There is a stallion by the name of Brennen who was a brother of the Tundra for decades; it's how he's known, though he never ruled there."
I think momentarily on the bay pegasus who'd so quickly earned my trust before continuing my spiel. "He is the leader of the revolution. Our plan is to recruit as many brothers to the cause as possible, and then overthrow Ischia's current queen, Krone, by peaceful means; a vote."
Here, I smile. "Our numbers are looking good for the vote, but..." My smile widens into a knowing grin, the breeze billowing my mane as my final spurt of mutinous propaganda spills from my tongue."They would look even better if we could count you among them." Yes; yes, they would.
"And what do you plan to do after this vote?"
Crimson satellites flick to catch his own words as the man speaks, curious as to how the boy might respond. The flashing of thoughts race through his mind quickly in meaningless names... Or, they were meaningless to him. The tone of thought was a close one. Maybe they were the boy's family? Friends?
"I am interested to meet this Brennen."
Of course he was. He was always such a curious child and the flame hadn't died as he grew. Hell the age had fanned the forest fire. Ischia sounded nice anyhow... Made him think of warm weather and beaches.
"If recruiting is your job you are doing mighty fine Trekori. Say, how far away is this place from here?"
~~
OOC: Super short since this is super late xD I think we should get the ball rolling, Ty is ready to see what Ischia has in store 
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