"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
He wanders quietly beneath the trees, pausing every so often to lift that delicate gold and dark face to a sky that is mostly hidden by a tangle of leaves and branches. He knows the sun is up there, as bright and beautiful as the marking on his skin, knows that it is swimming in the blue of an endless wind-scrubbed sky.
He had thought he would stay in the forest today, choosing a place he could pretend to be invisible in, where the shadows would slip silently over his skin and hold him close, invisible in their quiet dark. As though someone wouldn’t notice the scuffle-shush of his wings dragging along the ground beside him. His furrowed gaze drops from the glimpses of sky he catches through the treetops to settle heavily on those enormous gold and white wings sleeping limply at his sides. While the gold feathers were still bright and beautiful, soft as though soaked in morning sunshine, the faded white tips are crumpled and dark, bent from his wanderings.
They’ve always been too heavy to lift, all the times he’s tried resulting in painful spasms of trembling muscle along his back and shoulders. At first they had thought it was just because he had been born so small and slender, weak from birth and weak again when the plague turned his lungs to wet paper. But he barely got bigger, barely got stronger, and those beautiful wings still hang in their wretched slumber against his ribs. At least he was old enough now that he wasn’t constantly tripping over them. His legs, though still willowy and delicate, are longer now and have the learned grace of mistakes made many times over.
The furrows in his brow deepen as he blinks once, twice, and then looks away from the feathers and off into the nearby distance. He could stay beneath the trees as planned, the ghost of a once-murdered land, but a vision of the small meadow off to the west shapes in his mind and suddenly he is imagining how nice it would feel to sprawl out in the sunshine away from the worried eyes that follow him everywhere he goes. He doesn’t mind how much his family loves him, their kindness has always kept him well protected, and it is a comfort not to have to doubt that he is wanted. But sometimes doubt creeps in when the shadows slide across his skin, and he wonders if he’ll ever be strong enough to keep them safe, if these wings will always keep him anchored and a burden when he wishes to be more.
He sighs, those beautiful gold eyes dropping as he turns towards his sunshine meadow, already anticipating the smell of the flowers blooming there with an almost-smile that tumbles awkwardly across his mouth. He’s nearly there, and already the trees are set further apart and with wide enough gaps between the trunks that he can feel the moment the leaves break apart and sunshine falls in watery yellow dapples across his skin. He is mid-grin, his expression blissfully soft as those bright eyes lift skyward, when he is yanked to an abrupt stop. He yelps and yanks reflexively, flinching at the warning of pain that bids him be still.
His gaze is worried as he turns, searching that disoriented tangle of sunshine and shadow beneath the trees until his eyes settle on the mangled feathers of his wing wedged firmly between a gnarl of root and rock. Frowning, he gives the wing another tug but the replying shock of pain rippling up through the bone is enough of a reprimand. He wilts visibly, those enormous gold wings sinking even lower at his shoulders, his ears going soft and slack where they sit among the tangle of gold mane. “Why does this always happen.” His voice is soft, but it is not as young and sweet as it should be. The plague had taken its toll on him, and even after his lungs finally healed, his quiet voice still retains that sandpapery quality.
HARBINGER
the current is strong, my arms are weak
but you are the branch within my reach
06-20-2019, 06:01 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2019, 06:01 PM by Risk.)
She was born in the winter, where she should have been weak and tired, but the world had already taken so much from her. Virgo kissed her goodbye and left her shivering among the orphans but Kensa was quick to blanket her in a mother’s love. She thrived there, nestled beside her brother and eager to explore with him at her side. The past year has given her stronger legs and the kind of unwavering energy that would put an albatross to shame.
But she is careful with Kelynen, always pausing and smiling so patiently when he hesitates or stops to rest. She loves her sibling more than she loves the adventure and it shows in the way she lightly bumps her nose to his cheek. The ghost stories had only served to make her curiosity for Taiga more ravenous than before and the dense fog sets her heart thumping against her chest. Her smile is tenacious, daring any kind of danger to cross her path. Caw would be so proud if she could only see her youngest child now.
“Don’t be afraid, Kel! I will be your fierce protector!” she assures him, puffing out her chest proudly as her flat teeth turn to the fangs of a young snow leopard. Her kitten teeth cannot do much but they give her the confidence of a battle worn soldier all the same. Risk clacks her teeth together playfully before hurrying forward.
Until a yelp stops her in her tracks.
She freezes, one hoof still hovering in the air as she turns to look at Kelynen, her ears swiveling to find the source of the sound. The girl does not move as the clouds lazily move ever forward, allowing a patch of sunlight to bleed across her black and copper body. There is a soft, sad voice nearby that makes her bristle and clench her kitten fangs together as she tries to steel herself against the blooming fear in her chest. But Risk was not born of cowards, nor was she raised by one, and so she hurries forward, hooves turning to claws.
She hasn’t learned how to completely shift just yet but she crouches quickly as she breaks through the underbrush, poised to pounce whatever ghost or monster seeks to harm them.
Except it’s not a ghost.
It’s not any kind of monster at all.
She blinks in confusion and slowly stands up straight as her hooves and teeth return to normal. He’s trapped and alone in a place as scary as this. Risk bounces up in a little half rear to find Kelynen behind the brushes she burst through and calls his name.
“Kel! It’s not a monster!” she yells, bouncing again to continue speaking. “He’s stuck! Come help me!”
06-20-2019, 06:58 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2019, 07:00 PM by Kelynen.)
take a walk through the wreckage —clearing out my head
i hear your eyes roll right down the phone
i'm your walking disaster keep on dragging me
from self-pity —poor me
Their mother had not told stories before Risk came (though for Kelynen the time before Risk was brief and early and he almost forgets that she wasn’t always his, that they hadn’t curled together in the same womb) but now she gives them stories about sirens and ghosts and sea monsters. She says Valek’s daddy is a sea monster and that is why their big brother is so strong and handsome, even if he does not live in the lake and swim like a fish. Kelynen’s daddy is strong and handsome too, and even though mother doesn’t say so, he is pretty sure that someday he will be too. Then maybe he won’t be frightened by the stories and he can keep Risk just as safe as she keeps him.
He is healthy and strong, but generally meek and frightened by the unknown. Kelynen stays close to his brindled sister day and night. As she leads their crusade into the haunted Taiga he keeps up, shoulder to shoulder or just behind. When he is out of step with her he drops his pale muzzle to the slope of her back, or near the point of her hip so that they are rarely out of contact. A habit that has survived beyond their early infancy, absent and as natural as breathing for the pair.
The trees are vast and he slows a little as they push through fern and bracken as tall as their chests. He his learning to conceal his anxiety (Valek teases) but Risk knows him, and turns back toward him puffed up and flashing her shifted sharp teeth. He laughs, it is always funny when she shifts only this part or that becoming a melding of her leopard and filly selves. He wishes he could do it too, but that is a story for another time. Kelynen springs after the filly, bounding through the damp undergrowth and nearly colliding with her when the strange sound makes her stop. He drops his chin against her rump and then shrinks a bit into the ferns as she looks back at him. They are both frightened but she is like a sharp toothed hind with her head high and ears twitching. “A ghost!” Whispers Kelynen, pale golden eyes wide. Adrenaline prickles his muscles and his nostrils flare but before he can even think about what they should do his sister dashes off through some manzanita stealthily.
Now she is going to get eaten. Or ghost gooed. Or whatever happens when you let a ghost get you and then he will be next and Valek will laugh that he was eaten or turned snot green.
Risk bursts back through the brush and yells and he is right in front of her so it is very loud, he throws his head up and bounds close to bump his muzzle against her own. “Who is stuck? It could still be a monster. Monsters probably get stuck.” He frets. Determined to go and make sure it is not a monster before it can eat Risk and her sharp teeth Kel slides past her to push through the brush and trot the short distance to the other boy. He is older than them, but small, not a monster probably and Kel doesn’t ask because he isn’t rude.
“Let us help you, please. I’m Kelynen.”The palomino says to the boy with the big wings. He does not introduce Risk because she can speak for herself and also because he forgot to when he started looking at the feathers stuck tight. It is hard to tell how big the rock is but perhaps they can dig at it and get it free. Pawing at the damp earth near the rock, he looks at the trapped not monster boy “Do feathers hurt?” His own voice is soft, gentle without being girlish. Thoughtful, he looks back down at the rock and the scrapes he’d left in the mud. “Risk can you do the paws?” Looking over his shoulder at her hopeful and enterprising.
06-20-2019, 07:45 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2019, 11:55 PM by Kha.)
He watched the seen unfold from his perch, a weathered fallen log - a perfect place for a ghost .. boy?
He watched as a boy wandered in trailing a pair of to big of wings, though they were beautiful. He became stuck between a rock and a root. Stuck in a hard place - poor kid.
Shortly after his cries of pain escaped into the crisp air. A girl bonded towards them. Black and metallic, she was hard to miss. She proceeded to call behind her for another he couldn't quite see yet.
Silently he rose from his flattened bed. A ghostly hurumph escaping his muzzle. He supposed he could help out a bit, though he quite enjoyed watching the lives of those who were indeed alive, and feeling.
Slowly, while the girl was waiting for - whoever's- to show up he made his way over to the trapped boy. His hoof falls were silent and he left no trace of shadows, he was in fact as invisible as invisible could be. When he made it to the boy Kha dipped his muzzle to the rock that trapped his wing. Before he could get much further a rather chattery boy rushed up to the rock, right through Kha's barrel. With a roll of his shoulders he moved to the side, not that it mattered if someone ran into him they would simply shift through him. It was an odd sensation, similar to a fly that lingers for a second on his haunches when he chooses to shift to his living form.
With concentration but not much effort he materialized the tip of his muzzle against the rock - so that unless you were looking very closely you would not see the impression of his mouth upon the rock - and pushed it from its resting spot. The boy was now free, if that had been what he was yelping for.
KHA
it doesn't matter what world you live in; it only matters what world lives in you
@[Kelynen]
@[harbinger]
@[Risk]
Ooc : I edited my post because I must have been writing as Kelynen posted and didnt realize until now! Sorry! Kha's come to ghost you ;p
