"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
07-03-2018, 01:54 AM (This post was last modified: 07-03-2018, 01:55 AM by Jenova.)
The uppermost layer of snow has turned to a sheet of ice after midday melted it and the evening shade refroze it again. Each of her small hooves makes a loud crunch with every step and she laughs softly at the feeling. The sound leaves her lips in little puffs of white air that dissipates quickly. There is only a sliver of the sun left above the horizon and, though her mood has not dulled, she’s shivering in the cold. Her wings are tucked tight against her to try and retain her warmth but they can only do so much.
Others around her are huddled in couples or small groups, murmuring to one another happily in their cozy cluster. She’s a little jealous if we’re being honest, but she’s sure she can find someone willing to let her sidle up to them. Her plan isn’t bad but it hinges on her overcoming her timid nature in a meadow full of strangers. Jenova swallows hard and continues weaving around everyone with her head craning to see over them. She’s on the short side and so the world looks like a sea of bodies to her at the moment, much to her dismay.
She chastises herself for never mastering the art of flight despite having two perfectly good wings. If only she could take to the air, she could easily spot another loner fighting off the cold. But that sort of talent was never in the cards for her, she supposes, so she continues her search on foot.
Until she collides right into someone, that is.
She back pedals and looks forward now rather than way off in the distance. Luckily her cheeks are a lovely shade of light blue and hide her embarrassed blushing, though it probably wouldn’t matter in this case. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention! Are you okay?” she says quickly as her wings spread open in surprise. At least she hit him nose first rather than horn first, she supposes.
JENOVA
And in my dreams you're alive and you're crying,
As your mouth moves in mine, soft and sweet.
The meadow is bustling with activity as evening claims the sky overhead. Expectantly he feels the drop in the temperature as the sunlight weakens its touch upon him. It’s the cold that drives him towards the warm bodies gathered together. Compiled together, the union of their thoughts overwhelm him as he pokes into different minds to help aid in his travel through the thick of them. The differing motivations of their thoughts serve as entertainment amidst the loneliness of his own consciousness. Companionship, political gain and lust are all narratives that fill their heads. Opportunists and the apathetic weave themselves together in a confusing array of the thoughts unspoken. It was odd for him to see the world through the eyes of so many others. Often times it became impossible for him to form his own unique thoughts, confused by the influences that constantly pressed in on him. The concentration it required was almost painful, but he had emerged from hiding stronger – if not accustomed to the numbers that made up Beqanna. Carefully picking his path, he relies on his size to part the way before him. Standing well above the others, he was not hard to miss.
Tangled in the swarm of the others, he is only vaguely aware of the distracted mutterings of another. Her thoughts are mumbled and uninteresting to him but a brief thought about flightless wings catches his momentary attention. Attempting to decode the meaning of her musings he is too distracted to catch the warnings before the sudden jolt of another against him forces him out of the heads of the others. The collision hardly effected his sizeable mass, but he paused to catch the reaction of the other, his ears pricked forward to catch the sound of her startled breathing. Reaching once again into her mind he is amused to be greeted by the tumbling of her embarrassment. Her sweetly stuttered apology only adds to his entertainment and he smiles in hopes of calming her worries. Years of solitude had refined his skills of telepathy but had, in turn, weakened his skills of conversation.
No need to worry yourself, miss, he assured her calmly. Chuckling light-heartedly, he marveled that such a tiny thing could be worried of inflicting harm upon his bulk. I do believe I will survive this mishap.
something about the dark. something about our bodies, and the way we find one another.
something about the place where fear melts in the mouth and gets lost in kisses and under fingernails.
His smile is warm – it makes her want to huddle against him for warmth but she stares into his clouded eyes instead. Jenova does not know what this color means but she edges closer to look at him in wonder. The sound of her steps crunching in the snow surely gives her away. Then, there is a faint rustle of her wings unfurling slightly in her curiosity. She had been taught that staring was rude years ago but she never could really help herself when she sees something so interesting to her. Cherise was probably driven mad by her daughter’s careless nature.
“Why do your eyes look that way?” she mumbles softly, captivated by the opal shade of white. Light doesn’t penetrate the depths of his eyes as it does with others and she finds herself circling him closely as she searches for more surprising features to him. Jenova trails her lips along the length of his side as though her sense of touch may unveil some mystery her eyes cannot. She pauses at his hip and returns to his face, still certain he’s hiding something. She does not seem bothered by the way he looms over her like some mountain of a man.
“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Jenova. What’s yours?” Her voice, like silver bells, manages to convey the sweet smile that overtakes her lips as she introduces herself. They make for an interesting pair, perfect opposites in every way, but she likes the contrast between them. Her wings finally settle tight against her back as she grows calm once more. She’s still close enough that her contented sigh puffs against his cheek in a warm white cloud.
There are a hundred more questions in her mind but she recalls being told how rude it is to bombard someone like that. Still, she finds herself wondering where he’s come from and where he’s going. Is her part of a kingdom like Leilan? Is he alone like her? (The word ‘alone’ does not hold dreary connotations to her as it does for others.) She waits patiently, not realizing he can hear each of her dizzying thoughts as they drift through her lovely head. Jenova might pity him if he could.
Jenova
something about the sanctity of trust, of midnight confessions,
of held breath let out on a sigh like a smoke signal, a safe harbor.
some kind of magic. the kind that’s only for us.
The world is a constant tangle of emotionless thoughts. Residing in the meadow for an extended amount of time, he can feel the pressure of every nearby conciousness, their influences attempting to climb over the low barrier that was his mind. There was one, however, whose influence demanded notice. The messy tangle of the mare's constant barrage swarmed him in heaps of mindless wanderings. Helpless to prevent its entering, his eas. swiveled as though attempting to catch the sounds of a spoken word. She is worried about coming across as rude and she almost seemed to laugh as she recalls the chastisement of an elder years ago. So in tune to her is he to the tangle of her musings that her voice, finally spoken, is nearly lost to the strength of her mind.
She is different, he senses as much almost immediately as she immediately abandons all tact. An understanding of boundaries does not seem a concept that she recognized, a fact she demonstrated as her lips began to tickle the soft of his flesh. Flinching involuntarily his ears tip to follow the sound of her movements.
"I'm blind," he answered simply wishing he could offer more for an explanation. Alas, in his earliest days he remembered naught but darkness and the thoughts of others.
Inching close to his face he held high as she introduced herself. Her interest towards him is loud and even clearer within the touch of her mind. Maintaining the distance between them her questions are almost overwhelming and he bites back his urge to deliver answers. Instead he simply offers her his name. "Romulus. My name is Romulus."
Jenova could never become telepathic. She’s too soft-hearted and she’d fling herself readily to every housefire heart for the chance to help someone. But instead she is only a relatively normal girl and she must search for opportunities to meddle in rather than having them drop into her lap. She tilts her head curiously when he explains that he is blind. He can’t see? The idea of never knowing the meadow in summer or the forests in winter makes her heart ache, just a little. She decides not to dwell on such things but rather move on to something that won’t make each of them upset.
“Romulus..”
She repeats his name slow as she samples each syllable, careful to remember it perfectly. His name sounds regal and worthy of someone great, she thinks. Her own name has lost its charm on her after repeating it and hearing it spoken so many thousands of times, but years ago she thought it was equally nice.
“You’re very tall, Romulus. I feel so small next to you. See?” she says as she moves to press her side against his. His shoulder towers over her and she laughs at the way she has to crane her neck to look up at him now. Her wings are huddled tight to her sides and she decides it’s pleasant here curled against him. Jenova remains tucked there like a needy housecat basking in his warmth. “You seem very mysterious, you know. Like there’s more to you than I can tell by looking at you.”
She watches him for some response. Jenova is content to let the statement hang in the air just as she would be if he regaled some elaborate lie to protect his secrets. Either way, she doesn’t pry further.
JENOVA
And in my dreams you're alive and you're crying,
As your mouth moves in mine, soft and sweet.
The mysteries of the mind were not lost to him. Throughout his life he had learned to memorize the ever changing process of thought. It had filled his otherwise dull days with a wonderment and adventure. Even the seemingly mundane musings of his elders caught his attention - both a blessing and a curse. Once again he felt her mind grow heavy as her thoughts turn to that of summertime. She almost seems to miss the vibrancy of the landscape, now shrouded by thick layers of icy frost. A soft smile slays upon his lips, eating the sternest of his expression, and, as easy as an exhale, he offers the image to her. His eyes grow distant as he concentrates on the many memories that compiled to form one ethereal picture for her viewing. The meadow was green, fresh grass broke through the soft fertile earth and wildflowers broke the monotony of the emerald. Newborn foals frolicked in the height of it, sweat gathering on the soft of their coats. Maintaining the image took effort and he held it as long as he could, withdrawing when the strength of it waned.
His mind had grown foggy and he blinked his eyes to clear it. It's only at the sound of his name that he is reminded of his reality. Her tone is soft and controlled, each syllable pronounced and tasted. He chuckles despite his sudden exhaustion. Her mind was so alive and it would be easy for him to get lost there. The silence of the forest was far behind him and he found it difficult to miss it.
Again, he finds himself silenced by her absent chatter. Enamored by his height she pressed herself against him, her wings tickling the soft places of his underbelly. Physical touch was a foreign concept to him and he fought the urge to flinch away. He could not blame the girl for her amazement, he was quite tall.
"Mysterious?" he mused with a tilt of his head. "Perhaps I've been lost to the forest for too long? I've forgotten how to socialize."
something about the dark. something about our bodies, and the way we find one another.
something about the place where fear melts in the mouth and gets lost in kisses and under fingernails.
When her mind is flooded with images of the meadow in the summer, she is confused at first. Her memories were never so vibrant and lively as this and she hadn’t meant to think of such things herself. She turns her gaze back to Romulus and blinks slowly in wonderment as his memories dance in her head so easily. Was it his thoughts that engulfed hers? Had he been reading her thoughts this entire time? She feels embarrassment flood her veins as her expression grows concerned now. How far did his reach go within her mind? Did she think of anything embarrassing while she was around him? Could he hear what she was thinking right now?!
“Can… Can you hear my thoughts?” she asks sheepishly. Jenova clams up and blanks her mind of anything as she watches him now. She’s typically not easily embarrassed but she doesn’t know just what he picks up on in her thoughts and she’s not willing to take the chance. Of course, Romulus seemed nice enough to her, but some things were meant to be private.
“I’m sorry... I’m not upset or anything, I’m just not used to anyone poking around in there I guess,” she says as she attempts a soft laugh to lighten the mood of their conversation. Her thoughts remain empty as she focuses on the curve of his jaw and the way he speaks when he says he’s forgotten how to socialize. She gives a light shrug of her shoulders and her wings mimic the movement slightly before settling across her back once more. “I think you’re doing just fine. Or maybe we’re both hopeless with conversations.”
Her laugh is more genuine this time as she leans her head against his shoulder for a moment.
Jenova
something about the sanctity of trust, of midnight confessions,
of held breath let out on a sigh like a smoke signal, a safe harbor.
some kind of magic. the kind that’s only for us.
The shift between them is palpable as realization shows in the creases of her face. Her eyes search his face and her thoughts jumble together to induce confusion. A spike of pain erupted behind the vacancy of his eyes and he withdrew from her, the torrent of her many questions giving birth to a migraine. He forced a smile in an attempt to calm her worry. Pulsating red fingers of sharp pain beat to the rythem of his heart as it slowly subsided and he snorted in contempt of it.
He knew all too well his misstep. It was not like him to force his conciousness upon another. It was easier if they remained unaware of his presense for fear of them misunderstanding his advantages. In a move so unlike him he had lowered his walls and allowed her a glimpse into all that added to his mystery. Slipping into the mind of another he watched Jenova as she voiced her questions. His expression changed to one more serious than before as he contemplated whether to lie or be truthful.
"Yes, I am telepathic," he decided all at once with a slight tilt of his emblazoned black head. "It is how I am able to see the world around me. Without it, I would not be able to move as freely as I do. I did not mean to cause offense."
From a distance he is barely able to perceive the change in her body language. Her brows crunch together and nervous laughter spreads between them. A part of him expects her to turn away from him and flee, instead she continues. A rare creature indeed. There were many he had met that found his gift to be repulsive and invasive. He could not argue with such logic but he had to do what he had to do to ensure his survival. He would not apologize for it. Only someone who shared such a talent could understand to weight of it.
"I did not mean to frighten you," he reiterated. "I normally do not make it a habit of mine to 'poke around', as you say."
Her laugh comes more genuine this time, all signs of her previous nervousness melted away. From faraway he saw their coupling and a smile reemerged upon the solemnity of his previous expression. He stood well above her, even with her wings, she appeared minuscule next to him. Next to him her Jody shifts as she leans into him once more, her body warm against his jet black. He did not understand the feminine mind.
