"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
It had been a long, meticulous journey, but the strikingly dappled grey stallion finally found himself within new lands, standing parallel to a great river. Ever sensitive dusty nares widened with curiosity, taking in the very unfamiliar scents surrounding him; the comfort of having trust in his environment now gone.
It was a fickle theory, uprooting themselves in search for something they believe might be bigger than themselves. On one hand, one gets lucky and their risks pay off with love, power, or respect. But on another, they can be crushed by fear, anger, and jealousy. It realistically came down to how they reacted to their new surroundings, their new trials, and tribulations. Reacting strictly out of emotion without logic would lead to difficult lessons. Acknowledging through rationale alone numbed whatever emotion a soul clung on to.
It was a fickle theory. He danced that line with almost sociopathic tendencies.
With a shake of his heavy neck, salt and pepper mane flopped lazily to the opposite side, morning sunlight glinting off of the wisps. He was pondering his next move; deep blue eyes dancing to each unexplored scene before him. It was not far off to assume he would encounter other horses within this lush land, as many of their scents lingered in the air around him. He stood with a numb expression, neither satisfaction nor anxiety painted his maw as he thought about what he would do for the next series of travel. Oil rimmed auds flicked back and forth, listening for any reverberations signaling an unknown.
Mary was older now, nearing adulthood and her search for friends were nearing the end. Father grew tired of her tactics and constant wandering, but it was just fuel to her fire. None the less, she decided perhaps she would try out this whole 'Recruiting ' thing.
Mary decides to go to the river, it was the closest to Sylva after all. She casually finds her way, strolling through the river in search of an equine with no familiar scent. She found a few horses mingling, but none who looked in search of a home.
Just as she was about to give up she spotted a dappled stallion. She tilts her head slightly in confusion, he looked damn near identical to her father. The build was thinner than her own, and he had blue eyes. interesting she thinks to herself.
The young mares own pelt changed from the green she was born with and slowly fading into the grey her father bore. She shrugs and decides to approach the lonely stallion. Care for company? she asks, play was detectable in her tone. My name is Mary, and yours? She attempted her best diplomacy tactics.
10-02-2018, 07:25 PM (This post was last modified: 10-02-2018, 07:26 PM by Oriax.)
The young mare's essence drifted into his open nares before Oriax saw her. It was sweet, sickeningly so, with a youthfulness he used to bare. He was older, if only by a few years, but he was never one for younger animals. In his watery blue eyes, they were a burden who required too much attention.
No reaction came forth from this discovery; he stood, stoically, aside from the timely swishing of his peppered tresses. Oriax watched intently for the young mare's arrival, and with the third forward flick of his attentive auds, he saw her. Her pelt changed before his eyes, from a grassy pastel to a color that more similarly resembled his own. Again, no reaction from his stone-like visage, although his internals grew slightly curious. "Don't hide your true colors from me, damsel," Oriax's inner voice complained. The grey stallion was not particularly fond of hidden truths, but he would not immediately try to slide down her throat with his demands.
"Care for company?" the young mare said. Oriax was indifferent. It wasn't wanted nor unsought. The boldly dappled stallion waited a few seconds before replying. "My name is Mary, and yours?" Two inquiries. Oriax's jaw tensed just for a moment before finally parting his jaw. "Oriax," the brute said matter-of-factly. A short statement, with voice rasped.
His blue eyes flitted quickly over the young damsel's body, and he made it obvious. He had never censored himself for the comfort of others; this grey little female would not fall into the exception. "There could be worse options, I suppose," his voice cut through the atmosphere once more, with a hint of flirtatious acerbity clinging to the syllables. Oriax's hooves shifted forward, moving his musculature towards Mary. He blinked. "You know more about this area than I," the stallion stated. There was a hint of question in his words, but he would not outright ask the female. It was not in his nature for formalities. Knowing more about this new terra would be of benefit for the larger stallion, and perhaps the little mare was from a herd of her own.
He needed to gather more information. This much he did know.
She approaches and unlike the usual equine he did not appear satisfied by her company. Perhaps it was because she was young still, perhaps he was just an asshole. She asks if he wanted company, a simple comment that was a great ice breaker in recruiting. She introduces herself and asks for his name, he seems almost annoyed that she asked for his name, but finally blurts out Oriax . Her gaze hardened on to him, was he really annoyed that she asked for his name?
She flicks her tail in annoyance, interesting name she thinks to herself, not one she would pick for her own child...but thats a story for another day. He gazes over her, and she snorts in response Excuse you! she wasn't even of breeding age, was he seriously unable to maintain his composure? There could be worse options, I suppose he mutters and her eyes popped in shock, did he really just say that? Pervert she blurts out, her eyes follow him as he moves closer, this conversation was not going as planned.
He might not be used to others responding with a similarity to his own, but she also was never one to listen to the rules. She was still very naive, but he has never had another look at her the way he did, she probably should fear him...but instead she grows intrigued, though she does her best to hide it. You know more about this area than I he says, she was tempted to leave the conversation at that, but pressing onward might be more fun. Born and raised she announces I live in Sylva, we are a kingdom for hire. Would you like to come and visit sometime? She moves closer, brushing her pelt against his as she passes him, he was not the only one who could flirt (even though this was her first attempt). She gazes off towards Sylva, he did not carry the scent of another kingdom, surely he was a nomad.
Long May She Reign
@[Oriax] not what I planned :p also, just to note she did not actually change colors, I was just describing how she was born green but was fading to a grey
The brute’s insides burned with the sensation of laughter as the young girl reacted defensively towards his wandering eyes; of course, the stallion’s impassive nature prevented him from actually forming the playful emotion. Then run, little bird, away from me, Oriax’s thoughts nudged. Unless the young minx was a sheltered, home-grown innocent, her own demons would want to come and play with him. She would stay.
And she did stay, regardless of the annoyed sharpness in her voice. It was an engagement that no darkness residing within most beings could resist - playing with a peculiarity. “Pervert,” Mary spat. “You say it as if it was a term of endearment, whore,” Oriax’s inner voice once again claimed their presence. He blinked his deeply hued orbs, blankly continuing to gaze at the grey girl’s facade. She was annoyed with him, it was plain for him to see. But she stayed. It pleased the infection of darkness inside him. Another bluff for him to stare through.
“Born and raised. I live in Sylva, and we are a kingdom for hire. Would you like to come visit sometime?” Mary speaks. Her voice is shrill and adolescent in his ears, but her body coming within close proximity to his is anything but youthful-like; she knows not what she is toying with. “I could do more than visit,” he retorts, his thick voice almost a growl, revealing no amusement from her forward actions. Like he always has been, prior even to his and Mary’s encounter, Oriax was emotionless. He contemplated her inquiry. Visit? There couldn’t be harm in expanding his social circle, and Mary’s young psyche evidently craved uncertain adventure. “It’ll be interesting meeting your Daddy,” Oriax breathed, a sense of foreboding haunting his words.
“Sylva,” he unconsciously mumbled. He painted pictures of pristine waters and rolling hills to the word, half assuming the lands themselves would shatter the mind image. Oriax wasn’t sure if there were going to be any potential to his impending exploits, but he could oblige Mary and her oh so sweet guise.
