"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
if all this falls apart, he will never know what you are
Everything else slips away.
Like the tide changing guard under the watchful moon, so too does he change again. His role evolves and grows at the same time that it shrinks. Because he had been the champion of Nerine for a spell, the guardian of many. It isn’t something he ever asked for. It isn’t something he ever wanted. So when Hestia vanishes from the salt-soaked shores, so too does the badge of responsibility she’d once pinned on him. He has a bigger (and yet smaller) call to arms. With Djinni, he becomes they. And then with Rivka, they becomes family.
And oh, how he loves them.
Walter circles the north shore like an albatross, shivering at the last bit of bitter winter air that gathers under his wings. From his vantage point up high, the wavecaps look like they are racing each other towards the sand that splays out in welcoming anticipation. He knows if he were to follow the progression from churning water onto the sun-bleached sand, he’d find his daughter somewhere beyond, likely looking out over both. The girl had been born and raised in the steely kingdom, bathed in the bitter brine, and ran with the roar of the sea in her ears. She probably already knows the land better than he does. As much as her birth had been a surprise to both her parents, Walter can’t imagine life without her now.
He is such a different man than he’d been Before.
The palomino pegasus drifts lower lazily and finally touches down on dry land. Condensation clings to his golden hide stretched over ropy muscles, muscles that certainly did not exist before his stint as Champion and Alliance contender. But as those days grow farther away from the present, Walter finds himself growing restless once more. He needs another outlet, or at least an adventure – something to sink his teeth into and anchor his wandering feet to again. As much as his appreciation for Nerine has grown like a swollen wave off the shoreline, he is truly only here for
“You,” he says, coming up behind her and resting his whiskered chin on the curve of her hip. She smells of other places and he wonders where she’s been. A small part of him wishes she would have asked him to go, too, because of course he would go anywhere with her. But that small part is vastly overshadowed by his desire to see her free and unencumbered. It is what has always attracted him to her, this wild independence, for it is mirrored in him as well. “Tell me what is on your mind.” He hasn’t moved from his spot. From here, he can see the tell-tale rounding of her stomach, the exaggerated valleys and peaks he has helped create. Again. He reaches forward and presses his grey lips to the widest point. Soon, they will be four.
and he will never know why the sun in my eyes burns like her
09-19-2018, 09:28 AM (This post was last modified: 09-23-2018, 09:34 AM by kahzie.)
She is watching Rivka play in the waves below, racing the edges of the surf as it swallows and releases the grey sand. The girl is almost grown now; this spring she had turned three years old. She is past the age that Ivar has been when he had left her, yet still she seems happy here on the shore. Perhaps Rivka will stay here with them, much like her older sister had. Djinni still sees Starlin now and again, though the grulla mare spends most of her time training with the other warriors and keeping guard on their borders.
Djinni’s own days are as empty and free of concern as a child - perhaps even more so, since she has stopped the daily lessons on history and etiquette as soon as Rivka has proved herself passably adept. Most days the rosey mare walks the beach, but some days she feels an exception.
This might be one of those days.
The touch at her side is met with an easy smile, and the winged mare takes a few steps back to tuck herself more comfortably beside the palomino stallion. They can still see their daughter from here, she finds, but Djinni does look away to better meet Walter’s familiar eyes. What is on her mind, he asks, and Djinni answers with a smile and a shake of her head.
”Not enough,” she adds when she presses a gentle touch to his cheek. ”I was just thinking I needed a distraction, and here you are.” Below them, Rivka looks up. The sight of her parents together is a familiar one and not at all interesting. Perhaps they’ll become distracted with each other and she could sneak away to watch the warriors sparring this afternoon.
if all this falls apart, he will never know what you are
“Here I am,” he says, feeling her slide backwards into his welcoming embrace. It is a familiar scene in these days After, the two of them wrapped together. There is almost an urgent need in the gold stallion to press every inch of his skin against hers, almost like he is making up for lost time (all those years wasted at a distance: his heart, her touch, their lives together). He needs her, now, needs to see and feel her solid beside him. Not as a glittering cloud of golden sand, nor a spinning grey creature flying above the waves, but herself. Because she is marvelous and fantastical at times – a mage garbed in gold and filled with unspoken wishes - but she is always his Djinni above all.
Walter is only thankful he can now show her how much she means to him.
She touches his cheek and the spot feels warm long after the gesture. “I will forever be your distraction,” he says, “like an annoying gnat that won’t bugger off.” He leans to one side and playfully checks his hip into hers for emphasis. The motion introduces cooler spring air to their space and he presses closer to the rosy mare in response, tucking one white wing over her withers.
This close, he can see each individual eyelash curling away from her lovely eyes. Eyes that have watched him struggle in the time Before, when he couldn’t bear to touch her or anyone (because the emotions were already suffocating him from the world around him). Eyes that saw him grow bigger and braver as he closed the distance separating them for decades. Eyes that now watched their daughter growing and healthy and happy. Eyes that saw through to the man he always wanted to be.
Walter wants to find their favorite Nerinian cave and prove his gratitude again, but the sight of Rivka down below stalls him. Damn kids. Wonderful, beautiful, light-of-my-life kids, that is. “Do you think she’ll notice if we slip away for a bit?” Little do they know that that is exactly what she hopes will happen. Freedom is everything to children on the cusp of adulthood. Besides, she will know if anyone wishes her ill-intent thanks to her special talent. Lord knows it’s made parenting quite a challenge. “I want to go somewhere.”Anywhere, he almost adds, but that isn’t necessarily true. There is a place he is thinking of, a place she has said little and less about, piquing his endless curiosity He looks earnestly at Djinni, remembering the first time she spirited him away and the rush of adrenaline of their shared adventure. “I want to see the kingdom you ruled with an iron fist.”
and he will never know why the sun in my eyes burns like her
Walter is the only good thing that Djinni had gained from the Reckoning. Everything else had vanished - the Chamber, the Deserts, the quiet herdland where she knew she could always go to find her parents. Priam and Aseret are out there in the wide somewhere, trapped (or perhaps not?) in a place that Djinni cannot reach. The rose-gold mare had tried to fill the immediate void they'd left with Nerine, and then with Stillwater. They'd each satisfied her - for a time - but in the end she was always left alone and unfulfilled.
And then came Walter, and Djinni finally understood what it was to love someone more than she loves herself.
It had taken her nearly fifty years to do it, but the lack of shielding magic had only hurried along what was ultimately inevitable. "My gnat." She says with a smile, tucking herself beneath the offered curve of his long white wing. She leans against him, feeling the pull of twist of the muscle in his neck as he turns to look down at their daughter.
It had taken the genie some time to get accustomed to this Walter - musclebound and brawny, a guardian of the queen of Nerine - but beneath it he is still the honey-eyed stallion that she had met in the Meadow when she was just a girl herself. That time seems so long ago, and yet she remembers each bit as clearly as she does the day before.
"Sylva?" She says, startled from her daydream of the two of them visiting the Falls for the first time. She blinks her brown eyes a few times to ward away the sleep that had just been starting to creep in. "You know they're Nerine's enemy?" Djinni no longer keeps up with the latest gossip, but she does remember that announcement. "If you still want to go though, I am sure Rivka would appreciate some free time."
if all this falls apart, he will never know what you are
Theirs has been a circuitous route to finding one another, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He was a young man who was lost in every sense of the word when they first met. Starting out life as an orphan who was plucked from the Den and preened by a woman who could never be called mother was rather an auspicious beginning for someone as sensitive as he. He was spirited away to the Chamber, whose beating heart below the ground was more of a comfort to him than anything ever had been before. Walter grew up wild and stubborn and independent – and lonely.
The few friendships he made as a boy were the only tethers that kept him from disappearing entirely. First, with the beautiful black princess of the piney kingdom, Violette. She made him fly for the first time, made him feel accepted and wanted. Then, he found companionship in Aseret, whose voice and words curled around him alluringly like smoke. He grew to admire them in the way that boys do. But as they all grew older, the girls blossomed into mature women. The boy grew bigger, too, but he never was man enough to tell either how he felt about them.
Everybody found lives but Walter.
Until Djinni, that is.
She has been the only constant in his otherwise unremarkable life. She makes up for all of his many failures because – finally - they are doing right by each other. It doesn’t matter how long it has taken them to get to this exact point in time (her curled under his wing as they look out over the life they have created together). The destination and culmination is everything.
The briny breeze comes up again and tousles their hair. Walter presses his lips to her pink forelock, smoothing it down in the same motion. His muzzle lingers on this soft space of hers, like a bird settling into its nest. “Sylva?”“Yes?” He says, coloring his voice with as much confusion as her own. He’s mocking her, playing the part of the gnat he is. It’s hard to resist now that they’ve established his role.
But the next bit surprises him out of his taunting.
“Oh,” he says, “I see.” Though he sees nothing. The palomino is hardly interested in the kingdoms and their various and precarious relationships. Not anymore. Not since Hestia has gone from the grey shores of their home. “Well we’ll just have to sneak in, I guess. Undercover. Incognito.” He’s really enjoying this now. “We could even disguise ourselves, if you’re into it.”
and he will never know why the sun in my eyes burns like her
Walter mentions disguises, and the last of Djinni’s weariness vanishes. The idea of an adventure is thrilling, and the dun mare’s smile widens.
So does her entire face, shaded gold for the briefest of moments before that falls away in a shimmer of sand to reveal a sturdily built draft. Her now-bay hide is flecked with roan, and the feathered wings have vanished, while upon her bare head is now a pair of sabered black oryx horns and a matching pair of white eyemarkings. She shakes them experimentally, then meets Walter’s gaze again with a wide grin.
“What do you want?” She asks him, taking a step to the side. It is difficult for her to keep still. The tingle of magic, long-unused, flits through her body, bouncing about in a way she has nearly forgotten. Even this small magic, shifting her appearance, is enough to remind her of her old self. Better to kick up her heels than carve craters into the Nerinian cliffs to see how deep a mineral vein might run. (She has done that once before, an experiment that result in a natural wonder).
“Maybe something colorful? Have you ever wished to be a parrot?” This time the amusement is only in her eyes, as she attempts to match his play at sobriety.
“Or a butterfly?” There’s a small chance she might lose him if he were to be small, but Djinni is not truly concerned he might pick to be a jewel-bright insect. He’d make a lovely one though, she thinks, as she reaches out to press her jittery muzzle to Walter’s still-golden cheek. He tastes of salt and grass and pine, like their juniper thicket in their granite cave. Djinni smiles, and pulls back, her new face tilted up to meet Walter’s gaze expectantly.
current appearance: 15hh bay roan with oryx horns, with white facial markings
@[Walter]
if all this falls apart, he will never know what you are
He had expected this reaction.
It's why he had suggested it. Of course she is into the idea of sneaking into another kingdom under the mask of a foreign face! Djinni is roused from her slouching sleepiness against him almost immediately, leaving the space cold where she’d just occupied only a moment before. Her excitement builds his own until it is a thrumming, palpable thing in the briny air between them. He watches with pride warming him as she does what she does best and changes without a second thought, so effortlessly. He wonders if she knows how much she glows when she’s like this, how her face lights like the full moon and all the stars.
He wonders if she knows how exquisite she is.
Walter waits for the finished product, but doesn’t have to wait long. The rosy-pink mare emerges as a bay roan, more heavily built and sporting a pair of stately horns. She looks wild and built for war, though he rather hopes her horns are more decorative than purposeful on their adventure – he’s happily retired from his short military stint. “Ravishing,” he tells her, his eyes meeting her own after his inspection. “I like my woman to look like she could slice me open belly to neck without working up a sweat.”
Of his own disguise, he’s less enthused. A parrot? A butterfly? Methinks the lady’s gone mad with power.“Are we pirates or are we spies?” And then more complaining. He even flicks his tail in mock irritation. “Why do I have to be the lame sidekick?”
In all his angst, he’s actually biding time. He’s truthfully a little nervous to be anything other than what he’s been his whole life, even if this was admittedly his idea. What if he’s terrible at it? What if he can’t pull it off? But then she’s pressing her shaking muzzle to his cheek. The buzz of energy pulses from her to him and he gets caught up in it all again. He trusts her implicitly. Besides, this is her area of expertise. “I am your canvas, do your worst,” he says, closing his eyes instinctively. Then he peeks, one more time, long enough to say, “I know I’m pretty but make sure I’m a male, please, whatever you choose.” Lord knows there’s been confusion before.
and he will never know why the sun in my eyes burns like her
The genie is fickle, and with a shake of her heavy roan head she is suddenly something else entirely. The shimmer of golden of the sand fades, but the metallic shade remains. Gold streaks her fiery red mane, and runs across her hide where it tangles with reds and oranges reminiscent of the trees overhead. Like the trees of Sylva.
"Camouflage," she says with a laugh, and a handful of similar fiery branches sprout along the the palomino stallion's crest, spiraling down toward his chest. A slow introduction to change.
Camouflage only among in the tree canopy to be sure; the pair of them would stand out even in the colorful crowd that are the horses of Beqanna. At least they are themselves in every way but the change in color and Djinni's horns. Well, and the impressive set of leathery red and gold wings that Walter now wears instead of white feathers, a smattering of new and distinctive scars, and the distinctive scent of Taiga infusing every inch of them both until it smells as if they've lived years in the redwood forest.
A hank of her forelock remains pale like the speckling of dots along her haunches, and she peers out from behind it at Walter with dancing brown eyes surrounded by oryx white rings. The heavy mantle of the horns don't seem to bother her much at all, if the playful tilt of her head is anything to judge by.
"Ready?" She asks with an eager grin, before reaching out to touch him, bringing Walter with when she appears in the heart of Sylva an instant later.
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