"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
02-06-2019, 10:14 PM (This post was last modified: 02-06-2019, 10:21 PM by Misfit.)
;
Playing with the triplets has become a routine, he doesn’t ask Momseis for permission when he wants to play as long as they don’t want to go to the playground or somewhere where Momma has told him not to go without asking first. He is still little enough that no one teases him for his attachment to his mother, and Haunt, Harken and Harbinger are siblings that haven’t yet been unkind. The boy is still not so sure about Ether, and watches the stallion with wide blue eyes most of the time. He’s hardly a shy child, but having someone who wants to be close to his mother all the time too is a little odd and the boy is still getting accustomed to it.
Misfit likes to play in the trees and grass of southern Nerine. He has no interest in oceans and rocks even though there are more children who like to play down on the beach. He was born in this part of the coastal land and prefers it, he’d like to play in the Taiga but Momma said not to cross the scent boundary.
This morning he has had his breakfast and kissed his momma and now he can play all he wants until she calls him back to her. “Haaaaunt!” The blue maned boy searches for his favorite of the triplets. sticking his little face into a tangle of bushes and sniffing around for the scent of his friend, bottle brush tail flicking happily about his little blue-grey rump.
“Haunt, Haunt, is the one I want.” A chant, made up to accompany the short bounds and twisty kicks that punctuate his search.
The shadow child pays little attention to the arbitrary boundaries that mark one land from another. They are meaningless to Haunt, an invisible rule created by adults to impose control on a world they so clearly had so little control over. The shadow would not try to understand it, too caught up in other more amusing foibles. Childish foibles, it’s true. But then, the odd little creature is still a child after all, even if it is one that confuses others.
There is one other Haunt finds intriguing however. A sibling and yet not-sibling. The shadow doesn’t question it, because it simply is, but perhaps others would find their relationship strange. Still, Father seemed to like the boy’s mother a great deal. While that hardly seems significant to Haunt, it had brought Misfit to the shadow. And Haunt rather likes Misfit, even if Bonus Mother eyes them a little strangely sometimes.
Haunt Haunt is the one I want!
The boy-girl hums along with the sing-song tune, head dipping in time to the warbling notes. Though Misfit is not in the child’s sight yet, Haunt can hear him quite clearly. Shadows are endless, everywhere, pervasive, and the little creature made of those very shadows has been rapidly discovering just how extensive they are. Just how different they make it from others. Haunt rather enjoys it, but it would be impossible for the child not to know of it’s many differences.
With a giggle, Haunt flits through the shadows, a skill that comes as easily as breath to anyone else. Misfit would no doubt hear Haunt coming, the childish giggles a dead giveaway despite the utter silence in each breath of movement and alarming lack of scent. But Haunt is made for stealth, and it is easy to steal up on the blue and grey colt, to snake out a nose and tug playfully on a tufty little tail before disappearing back into the shadows from whence the childish creature had been borne.
Briseis is everything, but there is one thing she would be unable to keep him from should she try. He is a most obedient and loving little boy where his momma is concerned, but Haunt might be the weak point, the chink in the boys binding to his mother’s rules.
Misfit squeals when the dark child suddenly tugs his tail, and he bucks and whirls toward the peals of giggles but his flashing blue eyes cannot pick the shape of his shadow friend out of the darkness in which they love to play. The grullo colt drops his head a little, humming his tune as he takes a few exaggerated steps into the shadows. For his eyes these dark places are hazy, black static. He twitches his nose, but he knows there is no scent to find.
The sound of the earth against Haunt’s hooves are what he follows, once his twitching blue ears pinpoint the direction. He springs after the other child, careful not to trip or bounce himself into a tree, and his eyes catch on a place where the shadows are a little blacker, inky darkness that eats up the last brave bits of light that try to reach it. Haunt.
Racing close the mustang colt reaches out to nip the pitch-black shoulder he knows is there, before reaching up to pull at Haunt’s short dark mane and rough-house a bit. He likes that he can play harder with Haunt than with his other two almost-siblings. Misfit’s laughter rings through the shadows and he nibbles at the back of his friend’s jaw. He prefers the light, but when they are together this cool darkness feels just as inviting.
A wild giggle escapes impossibly dark lips as the little shadow creature embraces the darkness of the trees. Yellow eyes wide with delight, Haunt leads the blue and gray colt on a merry chase, leaving just enough breadcrumbs to follow deeper into the woods. Had they not known each other so well, it might have been enough to give anyone pause, following an impossible, scentless nightmare into the depths of the woods. But they do know each other, and Haunt knows nothing of dark and eerie things, truth be told. No, Haunt is only an odd child who wishes to play.
Another round of breathless giggles escapes the impossible child as Misfit finally locates its location, bounding forward to scrape youthful teeth across a pitch-dark shoulder. Leaping forward, Haunt charges headlong into the tussle Misfit had instigated, overly-long legs akimbo as the spritely youth swings them around the blue-tinged boys shoulders, teeth tugging, perhaps a little too sharply (an accident, to be sure, but the little creature doesn’t know his own strengths yet).
Haunt pulls them both over with another bubble of laughter, the shadows reaching, swallowing, cushioning their landing. Until they are little more than a tangle of thin, childish bodies and too long limbs. Haunt squirms until Misfit is pinned gently to the leaf-litter. Nosing the gray of his neck, Haunt laves almost curiously at the downy foal-fur, rather enjoying the rasp of tongue against skin. The child could not quite say why, but it’s comforting and familiar. Reminding it of the day they’d first met and Misfit had been shocked by such an uncommon greeting.
Haunt got a little wild oops :| if you want me to change absolutely holler at me and I will lolol
The shadows curl around Misfit’s legs but he pays them no mind, it is only when he is with Haunt that the shadows reach for him and they never do any harm. Their rough play leads to a tussle, and the shadow creature throws his legs over the boy’s narrow shoulders. Baby teeth pinch, but he is tough and doesn’t even squeak. The grullo tosses his blue smudged head and kicks out into the air with his hind legs. Unbalanced he topples into the dark and fragrant leaves and Haunt comes down on top of him, Misfit flails a bit amongst the tendrils and darkness and detritus but ends up pinned and breathing in amused little huffs beneath Haunt. There is a joyful buzz in his muscles as he lets his head drop to the ground.
Haunt noses his blue-shadowed neck and then licks the place, leaving damp swipes behind on the soft plane. Misfit snorts, and makes a content sound in the back of his throat. A shiver travels through his untested nerve endings and ends in an unconscious kick of his left hind leg. Opening his eye he takes in the dark branches overhead, and the tiny cracks in the living ceiling where light sneaks through to leave golden dapples on the ground around them.
Wiggling a bit, Misfit curves his head back to try and catch the tip of Haunt’s ear in his teeth before nosing their dark forehead. “You’re my favorite, Haunt. He says sincerely and then, “What do you want to do?” Momma is probably already looking for him, since they have gone out of sight in the trees but he finds himself caring a little less. He wants to be with Haunt, here, or wherever makes his friend happy.
Misfit
i wouldn't love me neither
@[Haunt] ugh so my brain decided to stop working, sorry for terrible.
It’s easy and comfortable, this hushed, private moment - simply two old friends enjoying each other’s company. Even Haunt, who so rarely feels discomfited in the presence of others, recognizes the unique qualities in their friendship. In what has grown between in them in such a short amount of time. The shadow child rather likes it. Even rather hopes this could be forever, in that childish way so many youth are prone to.
The gray fur grows damp beneath Haunt’s exploring tongue, and curiously the child begins to nibble gently with too-sharp teeth, an exploratory grooming. Misfit seems uninclined to protest, leaving Haunt free to his bold and curious touch. Until blunt, new teeth find the delicate tip of one shadowy ear, distracting the creature from it’s idle pursuit.
With a contented little sigh, Haunt shifts against Misfit, curling in close until they are pressed snuggly and warmly together. That pitch-dark nose falls to a gray shoulder, forward to a scrawny, youthful throat. Lipping idly at the whirled fur there, nibbled ear wiggling rather humorously, Haunt settles into the moment quite happily. Content to simply be, to merely exist, pressed against Misfit.
The boy’s words distract the shadowy child however, causing it’s small, dark head to lift, yellow eyes fixing on the blue-tinged boy. A grin stretches dark lips, eyes gleaming rather proudly in the cool shade of the small forest. “You are my favorite Misfit,” Haunt replies instantly, voice a bright trill in the quiet dark. “My only Misfit.”
The child’s features, nearly indiscernible, appear to consider the question posed with all due seriousness. As though their activities for the day are the most important thing in the world. In truth, for two rambunctious children, perhaps it is. Finally, after what amounts to barely more than a few moments contemplation, Haunt suggests, “Let’s go somewhere! Daddy showed me how to go everywhere!”
As Haunt wiggles and shifts Misfit does the same, sitting up so that he can curl against the dark child who noses and grooms him. The grullo boy releases his friends ear and nibbles instead at the curls of void-black mane as Haunt returns a statement of childish adoration. Between them there is a possessiveness and a belonging that is all the more poignant for its being a first such bond, at least for Fit. The blue tipped child would glow with it, if he could.
“With the shadows?” He asks, drawing back with interest that borders on anxiety. He knows that Ether and Haunt can do things with shadows that horses like he and Briseis cannot but he has never been into the shadows, though he is used to them attending their playtime. Misfit doesn’t think about it too long, and without Briseis anywhere within earshot to say yes or no it seems like a perfectly good idea. “Okay! Lets go!” The boy tosses his head and squirms to his feet, slender blue legs scrambling for purchase in the musty leaf litter. Once on his feet he shakes himself and then presses up alongside Haunt and butts at him with his cobalt muzzle. “How does it work?” Misfit looks around into the dark depths of the trees that march off around them until they become the vast Taiga. He tries to think of places he would like to go, but he hasn’t been anywhere but Nerine.
The boy squints his blue eyes at the disordered rows of trees and then tosses his small triangular head. “Lets see somewhere different from Nerine, or Taiga.”
Haunt hums, the vibrations low and delighted, as Misfit noses at the dark curl of mane against an equally dark neck. The little shadow enjoys the touch, so used to being one of many that it seems far more odd to be alone than to be pressed against someone so familiar and warm. This is the comfort Haunt seeks, the home the little creature knows.
A mischievous grin spreads across Haunt’s lips as Misfit leans back, peering at the shadow with uncertain eyes as he asks if they would go with the shadows. Bright yellow eyes gleam in the dim light of the forest, eerily delighted by the thought of whisking away through the darkest recesses of Beqanna. Of existence. And without his mother here to whisper sensible discouragement in the blue and gray colt’s ear, he readily agrees to Haunt’s rather wild suggestion.
With a giggle, the shadow child scrambles to spindly legs, youthful features alight with (faintly devilish) joy. “Through the shadows,” Haunt whispers conspiratorially into Misfits ear, before another delighted giggle escapes impossibly black lips. Oh, but how Haunt loves this! There is something so terribly exciting in stepping through the shadows and finding oneself in another place entirely.
“Just walk,” Haunt advises, that grin pasted to delighted features, displaying small, pointed teeth that might be sinister were it not for the clear brightness of that dark face. Pushing shoulder to shoulder, Haunt boldly encourages Misfit forward, reaching into the shadows as Dad had taught, allowing them to swallow the pair whole.
;
