"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
She ached for spring. Bathed in soft tones, spring lingered on her like the final rays of sunlight before a storm. She'd never been a creature of the winter, and her soul rejected the cold with a violence that seemed impossible for one as slight as she. It had been with such youthful ignorance that Demetyr had set out in search of new and wonderious things to behold. Like a stubborn child she'd stamped her hooves and pouted until her parents had finally relinguished their desperate hold on her. She was too beautiful for that world - or any world to be had. The purity that danced within the twinkles of her eyes was one such light that they'd hated to see extinguished. But she had insisted and, so, they had agreed.
Hidden behind her mother's skirts, Demetyr had always approached life with excitement and verve that never failed to gain her the attention she craved. Delighting in being at the center of everybody's attention, she spoke with rapt certainty that led others to believe that her world view was correct. Of course, she had very little by means of experience to prove the truth of her opinions. And why would she doubt them when she had never been told any differently? The shelter of her upbringing was one that she only ever been vaguely aware of. Not caring to peer out from behind the curtain of her parents' protection, the concept of leaving them was one that filled with excitement and anticipation. She was three years old, a mare grown as far as she was concerned. It was her right to fly the nest if she so wished.
And Demetyr intended to soar.
Beqanna was not a place entirely unlike the home she'd been borne into. Though its lands were vast and ever-changing, she found its simplicity charming as she bravely traversed into the Field. Endlessly it expanded, a blank canvas just waiting for an artist to take a brush across it surface to create something beautiful. She intended to be one such mortal being. A visionary on the lookout for the future that was destined for her. The promises of her childhood would not be diminished and she refused to allow them to fade as, for the first time, she became her own person.
Winter could be a deadly season, but there were some who embraced it. One such was a golden stallion who had made a journey to the Field that day, not in search of anything in particular, but one who simply wished to 'stretch his wings' and escape the reality of the situation he faced right now.
Being sent out on a diplomatic mission by the Queen, he wasn't disappointed about that, or anything that had to do with helping provide his kingdom with what it needed. But recently he had heard things... from both sides... and he struggled with both, not because he didn't know which side to believe, but because he knew which one would lead to more disaster.
Specifically, the side that had to do with revenge. The golden stallion, in his only year with his dam, had been taught one lesson by her; revenge was pointless, useless, and not unlike a two-headed venomous snake. He could lash out all he want, strike down those who had hurt him, but he would only end up hurting himself in return as well. And possibly those close to him.
He did not want that; the two foals and his love did not deserve such a fate. They were not a part of this, even if the mare wished to be so she could support him. If Aten could, he would send the mare and her foals to the northern lands where they would be safe and free from the danger bubbling within their own territory. But he knew she wouldn't go...
Not if it meant abandoning him... she would support him always, she'd said so...
And sometimes, that infuriated him, if only because he wanted to keep her safe.
He had to take this conflict out into the Field, allow his mind to wander so he could sort through his thoughts. Having a run like this helped him to think. Taiga wasn't useless in this regard, but being in his home territory, having the desire to protect it, would only cloud his judgment. Out here, in the open, where there were no kingdom territories, he could freely consider all options.
Out here, there were no reminders.
The snow kicked up around the golden stallion as he raced across the Field, his coat now heavily blanketed with white from both the snow he threw up and the recent downfall last sun back in his home. Aten had his favorite season, as did every horse, but he held no ill wishes against the others. Winter reminded him of times past, mistakes he made, so he would not do so again.
It also reminded him of the cold loneliness that pushed him further into himself... retreating into the forest, spending years there as a bachelor following Taiga's destruction. That had not necessarily been a mistake, for the years of soul searching did him good. But it had hardened his heart... save a few exceptions.
A thick snow bank almost tripped the stallion up, but he held his ground and pressed on. When it thinned out again, his hooves carried him through the snow with ease until he reached his destination. A thin creek that ran through the grass and served to water it was now frozen over, but the stallion wasn't there for a drink anyway. Instead, he had simply stopped on the bank, his chest heaving from his run. Clouds of frost formed around his muzzle with each breath, another forming over his back from where the sweat was evaporating off his body.
Part of his mane was plastered to his neck from the snow melting, and his forelock fell in a mess around his left eye, but other than that, the weather seemed to have little effect on the proud stallion. His muscular physique was clear even beneath his thick, healthy coat, his brown eyes searching across the Field.
At first, he saw nothing, even though his eyes didn't miss much. Some things were hard to see against the backdrop. Suddenly feeling his throat go dry when he'd caught his breath, the stallion lifted one of his rock-hard hooves and smashed it into the thin layer of ice covering the creek, exposing the frigid waters underneath.
He lowered his head for a sip, his ears turning every which way to listen for sounds. Every so often, when he thought he heard something, the stallion's head would go up, but upon sensing nothing, he'd return to his drink. Little did he know though, for he couldn't see her against the snow, not very far away, a pretty young pink perlino filly was lurking.
@[Demetyr] Normally I'd have Aten approach, but I'm kinda playing with the season. So if Demetyr would like to come say hi, Aten would like to make a new friend.
09-06-2019, 10:09 PM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2019, 10:10 PM by Demetyr.)
She did not think herself spoiled, but what youngling would think such a thing of themselves. Preferring to look on the privilege of her life as an abundance of good fortune, she did not waste much thought on those who were not as fortunate as she. Blessed with a gentle and soft-spoken mother and a hard working, protective father, Demetyr had, seemingly, no reason to want to leave. There were many who might even think her foolish for having thrown away a good thing. But she was nothing, if not, for a willful creature whenever inspiration struck. Her parents knew the truth of that well given the many tantrums they'd alleviated with gifts. Spoiled though she might have been, she was not cruel or unkind.
Demetyr was gifted with a love of generosity and a desire to see people made happy. One of her most favorite past times was singing for the multiple herds that would cross through their land. Her voice was angelic, a sound of the purest melody capable of bringing even the most stone faced brigands to emotion. The tales she spun with the sweet lilting of her vocal chords, it was a sound as welcome as a springtime wind after a difficult winter. So, it came naturally to her that she would hum as she strolled through the paths already cut through the snow.
It was not a particularly loud sound, the vibration of her throat nearly numb to her as she continued merrily on her way. Had she been paying more attention, however, she would have noticed that the birds had ceased all sound and every creature held its breath - straining to steal a listen. Demetyr delighted in the attention her gift brought.
Consumed by her travel she lifted her head and paused, taking in the sights surrounding her. For miles there seemed to be naught but a land blanketed by snow, the field stretching even beyond her own abilities to see. Just below the rise of her feet she spotted and frosted lake, with not much more to discern from the rest of the land but the slightest of glistening. There, naught but a short distance from its bank, a golden hued horse stood. A web of excitement spun within her.
Though she had seen a few others from afar, they had all seemed preoccupied with each other. Not wishing to be viewed as petulant, she had opted to allow them to keep their privacy. Thinking it best that they be left to their conversations. This stallion, unlike the others, was alone. Perhaps he was the one meant to guide her towards some semblance of civilization.
Without a single worry, she set down the hill towards him - her pace quick and laced with purpose. Timidity had never been an attribute of hers, and she seemingly flew towards the chance to socialize. Careful to ensure her approach would be percieved, she halted an acceptable length behind him and cleared her throat.
"Excuse me," she began with tones that hardly seemed possible in that mortal world. "I do not mean to intrude upon you, but I was wondering if you could offer me some guidance? I am new here, I'm afraid, and im not exactly sure where I should go..."
Due to the angle Aten was standing at the stream, the stallion saw the filly approaching from the corner of his eye. At first however, he didn't look up, despite how she was running in his direction for some obvious reason. Aten continued to drink until the filly addressed him, at which point he did lift his proud head and turn his neck around so he could face her.
She appeared to be a young filly, her most striking features being the sharp horn placed upon her tapered forehead and the tail that extended behind her like a big cat's rather than a horse since the hair only existed at the end. But other than that, she appeared to be a normal horse with unique coloring. Aten based her age not on her stature, but by the youthful and excited gaze in her proud face; he couldn't base age off height anymore considering he was so tall himself to begin with.
Her coat color was a pale pink and white while darkening the closer it got to her hooves and muzzle. Her cheeks were also tinged in a deeper pink so they stood out against her coat. Her mane was long, wavy, and silky in appearance, her tail tuft much the same. Her eyes were a pretty soft olive green, and in addition to the myriad of flowers and leaves decorating her mane just behind her ear, vines were wound around her tail and front fetlocks.
She greeted Aten in a soft voice, one of the softest Aten had ever heard. He was a bit mesmerized by it when the filly asked if he could offer her some guidance, a question that Aten didn't hear phrased like that very often.
Aten smiled at the filly, his baritone voice sounding much harsher than hers in tone, but strong still, "You did not intrude, there is no need to regret your decision to talk to me. The best advice I can offer at this moment is it would depend on what you are looking for. There are a number of kingdoms here in Beqanna that vary depending on their environments and residents. I myself hail from a forest kingdom, but we also have island ones. What sort of place would you be looking for?"
She supposed that she appeared significantly younger than she actually was. Inherently innocent, she was not aware of the impact she had on those she happened upon. Beautiful, yes, she knew - but when it came to her age, she immediately hoped that she was older than she was. The stallion drank deep, his manner unhurried and relaxed. When he'd had his fill, he lifted his head just in time to the end of her words. Standing still, hooves sinking deeper into the slushy mud that resided at the lake's bank, she remained so even as he angled himself to better see her. His was the first face she'd met in that land, and the significance of that moment was not lost on her.
Admittedly, he was not at all what she had expected. Quite a bit older than she was, he had no discerning features to set him apart from any others. Towering over her, his coat is a bit thicker than hers, though his eyes are kind. Quietly he considers her question, which, of course, is meant to break the barrier between the strangers. Shyness is never something that she'd possessed and her natural inclination towards friendliness draws her to want to make friends wherever her feet happened to carry her.
Finally, a smile touches his lips and her muscles relaxed. Demetyr never could be certain when entering an unfamiliar land what sort of people inhabited it. It was evident to her that this new face intended to do her no harm, and her smile widened.
His answer to her question is long and one that she considers carefully. Honestly, she is not certain what it is that she is in search of. All she knows is that she could not find it whilst she remained under her parents' supervision. She giggled at her own silliness for having asked a question without knowing what sort of answer she was hoping to receive. Batting her lashes she cast her eyes downward before lifting them to his once more.
"I admit that I do not really know," she confessed. "This is my first time on my own, and I am a bit overwhelmed by the vastness of this place..."
Tilting her head, she took a single step nearer to him. She wanted to trust him, to believe that maybe she would find what she was looking for in him? Could it be that her hopes and dreams would finally become a reality - and so soon after striking out on her own?
