"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
01-23-2020, 09:37 PM (This post was last modified: 01-23-2020, 09:38 PM by Wolfbane.)
I believe I'd die if I only could
I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good
@[Larva]. Bane had hoped for something with a bit more substance than just a bag of meat and a flapping hole filled with too many teeth. Alas, disappointment has a name. Larva, who’s so quick to chime in after Wolfbane’s suggestion with one of his own and, surprisingly, the hefty stallion with a set of pearly-white wings quietly agrees. He knows the grey’s scent and the look of him well enough now. Perhaps come spring time he’ll hunt him down, see what kind of ‘easier’ prey hangs out around the elder. Maybe there’s a horse full of hot, fresh blood that’ll motivate Larva to not be such a fun-sucker in the future.
That’s why Bane smiles when the other male shrugs.
The mares are much more interesting. Shifting and edging closer to each other, imperceptibly moving like little cogs in one larger machine. He turns to look at Ruthless making a new expression, one meant for Lilliana but gobbled up by the greedy eyes of another. Wolfbane likes the way her skin twitches together near her forehead and the soft, pouty edges of her lips. The smell emanating from her pores makes him want to purr.
Fiorina, though he’s not exactly focusing on her, gives herself away by sound. He enjoys how most horses in this world have learned to think carefully and act sparingly, but their efforts are honestly lost when compared to what Wolfbane can sense and hear. He is nearly every living thing at any time he chooses. Below their hooves he can sense the burrowed animals. Above them he can hear the wind over feathers of ghostly silent owls. The dark is just as light as day to his eyes. Each of their hearts beat to a different tempo and Bane thinks he might be the only equine here capable of truly enjoying that lovely symphony.
For now, the armor-plated mare with a poised scorpion’s tale (he thinks of it like that because it’s the closest he can come to identifying what she might be) will be in his foremost thoughts. Should she move, should she breath or twitch he’ll be ready.
And Lilliana, who draws his head and nearly all of his attention save one ear… Wolfbane closes his wing tight again. “Oh.” He says to her, once Larva's had the chance to reply, “I see.”
His wings split and shift. They come alive with a furious vibration and sever apart quickly, forming individual tentacles that mercilessly fly out in all directions. One to swing wide at Larva like the swipe of a writhing blade to keep him back, if he wanted in close. One to jerk in the direction of Ruthless, grasping and clawing for any open part of her flesh he might cling to. One to rise up in front of himself and hopefully block Fiorina - she could have it, if she wanted. It would grow back. One that aims to curl around Lilliana’s neck.
The attack is smoothly operated without warning or reason. Having come from such a marionette-like horse, the speed and deadly accuracy may or may not be an unwelcome surprise to the gathered herd. Wyrm’s stolen gift is something the once-living horse had been born with and something he’d had decades upon decades of practice with - and his spirit manifests itself fully in the body harboring such a vile entity. Wolfbane is primordial with a power like self-manipulation and though the odds of four-to-one are heavily stacked against him, they’re odds he feels comfortable testing today.
For this thread: Sex: M ◉ Appearance: Normal ◉ Mood: Dangerous
OOC: Feel totally free to respond with powerplay! His two wings have split apart into four tentacles. Wolfbane is aiming to grab only Ruth and Lilliana. He's attempting to block Larva and Fiorina <3 If anything seems wrong or too "aggressive" on my end just DM me or @me on discord.
There are numerous questions bubbling up in his mind but he cares so little for answers anymore. His own little hypotheses are invariably more interesting than whatever truth this world can offer him. Still, he watches Fiorina place herself strategically beside the little mare who has quieted and he wonders if her feelings are hurt. Would he apologize if they were? Some slumbering part of him thinks she reminds him of Darling when she wilts but the other part only remembers mewling children he had made meals of. Neither stirs him enough to react, though.
His sage green eyes roam back to Lilliana when she asks her question but he does not repeat himself. He only smiles as though he did not hear. Instead he simply watches as this one, too, places herself to protect the young Ruthless.
Inevitably, his attention draws back to Bane and he finds himself growing bored with this entire ordeal. The unanswered questions are piling up and souring his mood rather than keeping him intrigued. As if on cue, Wolfbane’s wings split into tentacles and there is a knee jerk reaction to tear them from his back. Oh, if his fangs had only come back with him! Nothing scratched an ancient itch like a belly full of warm meat.
But he is just an old man now with the flat teeth of prey. He rears to avoid being swatted at by the appendage and he wonders what writhing tentacles taste like. Do rage and madness make the meat tough to chew? Fear and distress certainly have in the past.
The old serpent knows when to fold, however, or else he would have died twice as many times. He will return when his own curse finds its way back to him, and then maybe he will get answers to the questions that thrill him the most. Larva turns and leaves in the direction of Tephra, back to the jungle and the few faces he knows anymore.
02-01-2020, 12:12 PM (This post was last modified: 02-01-2020, 12:12 PM by Ruthless.)
if you do not have shadows, you are not in the light
Tensions boil in beckoning taunt, and Ruthless is as still as a deer in headlights.
That is, until she sees Fiorina rise tall with furious courage dripping into the air. Ruth is in awe, dumbfounded by the sheer courage displayed. Her shadowy mother had never risen to warrior, stood to face the demons.
We hide.
We cower.
We run.
It’s all the golden light knows, until now.
Lilliana, though still courteous and polite (as if Ruthless expected any less from the well-versed diplomat) moved ever so slightly closer in show of protection. Bistre eyes swing from mare to mare, a rush of adrenaline and envy pumping through to even the deepest parts of her body. If they do not fear, then I shouldn’t either, she assures herself.
Lilliana will not let Brine down. She will not let the little fawn get swallowed by the bad man.
Her head raises a little higher, trying to subtly mimic the stance of Fiorina. Ruthless has decided to like her, perhaps even admire her. The child ignorant to the opposing thoughts on the ebony mare’s end, is starstruck. As if a real-life super-hero graced the field, and she is lucky enough to witness it first-hand.
And every hero needs a sidekick.
The inevitable dark cloud returns to her mind, though. The minute of glow fading while the tone of Wolfbane changes to a terrifying flatness. The air feels thinner as Ruthless pulls in for breath, even the coolness of night air not enough to soothe her dry throat.
He moves with skill and accuracy, the reach of his tentacles barreling to her with malicious intent. This time she does her best to not let fear overtake her face, as if leaning into Fiorina’s courage and perhaps stand long enough in her presence to feel it too. Larva rears in effort to dodge the missiles aimed through his legs, forgetting about the other tentacle likely through Fiorina now.
It isn’t until she feels the tightness squeeze her coronet band, that realization dawns.
He has me.
She lets out a cry for help in the costume of a high-pitched whinny. Her hooves digging into the sloppy turf beneath her. As if the weight of her petite, adolescent frame will withstand the pull of magic and evil.
“Let go!” She threatens with no idea on how to follow through, but Fiorina has shown her to try and so she does. Her body rises in a half rear, as high as she can get before the force of Wolfbane throws her down. Her free front leg—the left—aims to fall into the flesh of the serpent.
“Lilliana!” She screams enraged and petrified, the demand for change or help or something. Amber eyes narrowed and confused glances back to the chestnut mare, her pretty flame, her glowing aura.
Larva says something, though Ruthless hardly catches his words before he begins to retreat into the forest shadows. She feels her heart sink, as if it hadn’t already fallen into the pit of her stomach.
02-01-2020, 11:59 PM (This post was last modified: 02-01-2020, 11:59 PM by Fiorina.)
She doesn’t understand what triggered the attack, but in the end it does not matter. One minute the tension is building and the next it explodes. When the tentacles appear, a feral smile lights up Fiorina’s features. None of them snake to grab her, a fact that makes her quite upset, there is one in front of her - blocking her from reaching the stallion at the centre of this chaos.
Fine.
She feels the excitement as though it is burning her from the inside, awaking the mind that goes sleepy with conversation. This creature is made for the fight, her body gleaming with built-in armour and, of course, a few handy weapons - both secret and not.
Deft and deadly, she moves. Her head snakes in one direction to tear into the tentacle before her - revealing gleaming, silver teeth as her mouth opens wide and then closes around the wriggling limb. At the same time, her knife-tipped tail whips to the side to slice through the tentacle holding onto the winged girl, who is now down on the ground. She barely registers Larva leaving, so consumed is she by the fight. But she does register the now-empty tentacle from him that moves towards her. She swallows the chunk of tentacle meat in her mouth and though it is not her favourite taste, the way she moves towards another of them makes it seem like this is the finest feast in the world.
Her eyes blaze when she moves closer to Wolfbane, but it’s not her game to attack him. Part of a tentacle hangs from her mouth as she lunges towards the chestnut Lilliana, hoping to slice through the appendage that had been seeking her neck. When her focus is on the stallion, however, it’s still with that burning, eager smile. Words aren't her strong suit, but every line in her body makes it clear she won’t give up this fight until the mares are free.
Whatever tricks are next, she hopes they tastes better than the first.
@[lilliana]
Also in general (especially Wolfbane) let me know if you'd like me to change anything!!
02-04-2020, 07:42 PM (This post was last modified: 02-04-2020, 07:57 PM by lilliana.)
Why do her legs suddenly feel as if they have been filled with lead?
Why does each step forward feel harder to take than the last? Forward is all she has ever known. Forward is what she has always told herself: forward, onward, keep going. Never look back. Her hoofsteps are suppressed by the layer of snow beneath her and she walks forward, away from Larva who only smiles at her like his mentions of death and the Afterlife are commonplace, attempting to close the distance between herself and the others.
The atmosphere changes the closer she gets. Moments ago, it had been full of electricity and firestorm crackling. The air around them has become charged and it feels the closer she gets to the source, the more it intensifies. It’s only when she speaks does she reveal her precarious position. Halfway between the striped stallion and the golden child, there had been many things she had hoped for.
When his swings split and shift, when they change into tentacles, all her hopes die away.
This is a nightmare reincarnated and panic mingles with adrenaline as it crashes through her veins. There is a moment where she dances - where her feet come up and back - as she looks around. Larva, it seems, needs no time to contemplate his actions. He does something she has never seen before of how one might react to danger (perhaps her first dose of reality) - he flees. He rears and then fades into night.
She has no time to process the shock of that. Ruth screams - a cry that rips her apart - and the copper mare urgently takes another step towards her, looking for the girl. No, some distant part of her thinks. This is not happening. This cannot be real. This feels like some twisted magic of the Mountain - a reality that shouldn't exist. Panic rises in the frantic beating of her heart and in the tense way she holds herself. As she watches as Ruth valiantly tries to rise despite the tentacle that Wolfbane has ensnared her with.
Fear threatens to freeze her into place but a tentacle does that well enough.
It wraps around her neck with precision and accuracy. It binds but not so tightly that it chokes her. She does, however, feel inevitability in its grip. Fiorina - the plated mare - makes quick work of the shapeshifter’s craft. Wolfbane’s tentacles are torn apart, limb by wriggling limb, as the dark mare uses her tail to slice through the tentacle that holds Ruth down on the ground.
Ruth.
Her eyes fall to the palomino filly. She hears the fury and the alarm in the child’s cry as she calls out for Lilliana. There is ire in Ruth’s voice - venom that sugarcoats her fear - and for a moment, all she can hear is Elena. Another cry from another golden girl that still echoes down the years to where she now stands.
(‘You killed him! You murdered my father and yet you still stand,’ her cousin seethes. ‘You don’t deserve to stand there.’)
For Ruth, for Fiorina and even Wolfbane - she has to do something.
Fiorina is coming towards her with a still moving tentacle dangling from her serrated smile and Lilliana sees the determination glinting in her black eyes. She won’t stop. She will slice and cut and fight - she will continue on and on and on. Fiorina is every inch the fearless warrior that she carries herself as. If this had been something as simple as a faceless evil, some unknown entity with the intent to harm and destroy and cause chaos, she would have let her continue lunging forward with those razorblade teeth.
But it is not.
Wolfbane, at the very least, has been her friend. And there are other things she knows - she has seen him adjust his shoulders as easily as a horse might exhale. He has a skill that affords him the advantage of the unknown. He could slither behind them back to Taiga as a snake. He might take the form of an eagle that sits on a waiting branch. He could be as cunning as a fox that lurks in the edges of shadows. This fight between Fiorina and Wolfbane could continue on and on - bloodcurdling violence that makes her sick to the soul - with a multitude of possibilities. Lilliana, with that realization weighing heavy, searches for a way to spare all of them.
So she moves.
One step back is followed by another and another. Her steps are high and unsteady. She doesn’t need the tentacle wrapped around her neck to remind her where she stands but the last clue is the warmth of his hide that penetrates through the darkness when she finally stops, placing herself between the skinwalker and dark mare. "Wolfbane,” she says with a voice that hardly rises above a whisper. "Bane,” she asks before Lilliana glances over her shoulder, raising her blue eyes to plead with his.
"Please.”
LILLIANA
and i was in love with all the things i believed i was
Truly, some ethereal hand of a sick God was puppeteering Wolfbane. He moved the way a regular doll of a horse would, hovering animatedly on its tiptoes like a creature waiting for the tug of a string. He jerked and bobbed, letting his slithering tentacles do most of the work while his face and ears twitched faintly to keep track of all the chaos. Each time he moved his legs swung a little underneath him, giving him the appearance of being life-like but lifeless at the same time. Something horribly wrong, but moving gracefully in tandem to the dance of a battle anyways, going through the motions while being emotionless… a monster.
One with eyes too busy feasting on Fiorina’s movements to give Larva an iota of attention when the gray stallion escaped, and with ears too occupied by the curdling sound of @[Ruthless]’s whinnying screams. He felt a brief, sharp register of pain and realized he’d lost a tentacle, then two, in the moment he dipped to slide across the ground and mirror Fiorina’s weaving attack.
They locked eyes for an instant when she lunged closer, predator to predator. A wild heat glowed in the pit of Fiorina’s steady glare, and she looked amusedly deadly with a bit of his mangled appendage dangling out from between her serrated teeth, but she didn’t know Wolfbane… not yet. That left her short-sighted. All this time she should’ve been watching the others instead of him, then maybe she could’ve guessed his intent. “Stupid, blind fools.” He thought to himself, and the sound of that voice translated to a dark, truly evil sneer in reply to Fiorina’s eager smile.
The razor-tail missed its mark and the sneer wiped off his face when Lilliana pushed blindly through the dark and into Wolfbane’s embrace, leaving the outline of her chestnut head and tumbling copper mane to block the two brawling horses from taking another shot at each other. The sweet tenor of her voice, honey-smooth, pleaded with him uselessly. Bane held steady and calm against the threat of looking away from Fiorina to Lilliana. He inhaled the cloying perfume wafting up from underneath his chin, and felt the rub of her fiery-gold skin against his while settling down onto the ground.
There wasn’t a moment to waste. “I think that’s enough.” He hissed at the back of his throat, the sound cutting through the quiet Field they’d all gathered in. Something itched at the base of Wolfbane’s nose; an unfamiliar scent. He reasoned that If another horse got it into their head to approach and intervene, then he might lose his chance and a few more of the tentacles he’d gotten wrapped around Lilli since she decided to finally give into him.
They curled over her forelegs and pulled back towards the couple, “Leave us be and let the brat go home,” He tried to stroke the edge of Lilliana’s cheek with one undulating arm in the dark. Perhaps he wasn’t being clear enough? “Don’t act the hero.” He warned the pesky little bug and her new friend, Ruthless. “A bird in one’s grasp is worth two in another bush.”
For this thread: Sex: M ◉ Appearance: Normal ◉ Mood: Dangerous
if you do not have shadows, you are not in the light
In the span of seconds, our golden child was reminded how right Brine has been.
Guilt spreads.
(Ignorance was bliss)
The energy is so overwhelming Ruthless feels a flush of red cross over her chest and throat. Her legs are numb with exhaustion, her wings tender and tired.
Our lioness had fallen to the confidence of a mouse. Her eyes fell distant in the same way Brine’s looked dull, her neck sunk in pride like her mother’s had hung since she could last remember.
A broken, blank canvas once painted with vibrant shades of summer colours, glowing the feeling of joy.
The tentacle falls slack, jolting Ruth from her daze and focusing her attention on the dead limb below her—the soft ache from pressure still throbbing on her right leg. Bronze irises swing to see Fiorina hanging a gushing tentacle from the grips of her jaw.
That is so cool.
Hope is restored! Ruthless whips back to see Wolfbane, his seizing movements both hypnotic and disturbing. Her heart is pounding, her stomach flipping. The only thing that she is sure of is that they might actually beat him.
Golden legs lift into the air as she kicks out her front in a celebratory rear, white wings flapping beside her before carefully lowering back to the ground.
But something has changed.
(We cannot fight, baby Ruth. We just… can’t)
The whisper of Brine haunts our golden child like a cougar on the hunt, sinking into her ears and falling deep through her throat to the pit of her stomach. A constant presence that she couldn’t shake. And though she silenced—not having heard her taunting words in months—Brine rose from her disappearance with demand of attention.
Because if she understands what is going on, then she understands that Lilliana is surrendering herself to him.
(And you thought she was different.)
The copper mare has intention with every step, each deliberately placed with a longer stride to shorten the distance. Ruthless fleetingly glances to Fiorina, curious to see if she is as shocked, but also wondering if maybe this had been some elaborate last-minute plan they had silently agreed to. Perhaps maybe Lilliana is a distraction.
But what if she isn’t? This is why I protect you. How can you fight this!? I am your mother Ruthless and I will never let you see what I have seen. You do not know what others are capable of.
It doesn’t occur to her that she hasn’t exhaled until she finally does, the long-winded breath and slight wince in her throat as the last bit of air escapes. Monsters are real, but so are warriors. Fiorina proves it. And she isn’t some strong, powerful stud.
She is a mare.
Rage boils deep in the pit of her stomach, but things are already falling apart. But, Wolfbane has agreed. He has already resorted to dismissing them. Daring them to test him, wanting the drama.
No, please Lilliana you can’t. You aren’t like her. You aren’t..
Even so, her voice is not found. She cannot bring herself to test the waters. She isn’t as brave as Fiorina. She isn’t as strong, or well-versed in the art of fighting. Not now.
Not yet.
Her eyes just flicker between Lilliana and Fiorina, in the hands of whatever they decide to agree on next. Her wings pulling close to her sides in search for warmth and comfort; mirroring the feeling of the copper and raven mares that stood next to her only minutes before.
Fiorina does not move when Lilliana does - though her gaze remains fixed on Wolfbane, her ears flick and track the movement of the chestnut mare. She is electrified by the fight and wants more but she senses that things are dying down and she might not get the chance. She hates all this subtext - why can’t everyone just say what they want? And be obvious about it. She snorts at the stallion’s words when he speaks because, though she is at least smart enough to catch what “leave us be” means, the rest is utter nonsense.
There aren’t any birds here.
She takes a step forward, her tail flicking behind her. “Sorry, that’s not going to work for me.” There is a part of Fiorina’s mind casually informing her that she is being an idiot. That someone who can turn their wings into tentacles likely has more tricks up their sleeve. But backing down from a fight was not in her blood. She was born of monsters and magic and there is not enough sense in her to know when a fight is fair or not - just when it is a good one.
The dedication she feels to these strangers is inconvenient, but she knows it makes sense. Her family was made to serve and those wretched instincts have kicked in here of all places, when she was just looking to recruit for a home she knows she won’t return to now. She’ll follow Ruthless and Lilliana, she’ll be the dog that keeps their flock safe.
Her eyes do slide to Lilliana, wondering what the chestnut mare thinks of the (weird) proposal made. She had willingly distracted the brute from the fight, but how far would she go to protect the young one?
Fiorina is careful to keep herself between the winged girl and Mr Octopus when her gaze shifts to him again. “No more harm is coming to either of these mares today. If she won’t go with you freely,” And Fiorina eyes the tentacles pointedly, “Then they are leaving with me. Find some other prey.”
03-06-2020, 07:37 PM (This post was last modified: 03-06-2020, 08:00 PM by lilliana.)
He doesn’t even look down.
His attention is held captive by the knife-tailed warrior as Lilliana is by him. Her plan - her hope - that by pleading with him might deter him from Ruth falls away in pieces, slips through the cracks in her fractured soul to the frozen ground and Lilliana feels herself hollowing out. Her hope starts to vanish like the Taigan fog when it greets sunlight, as it burns away with the daylight of reality.
Wolfbane, Lilli wants to plead with him again, as if saying his name one more time might break a curse that she knows nothing of. As if it might dissipate the insanity she had once told him she had been running from.
(He - it - has caught her. It had caught up to her in the end.)
Everything falls apart to the ground and that is where that vivid, electric blue-eyed gaze goes. It drops to the snow beneath their hooves as it gleams under radiating moonglow. (If this were any other night, she might have admired the sheen, adored the way the light refracted and glimmered like a reflection of the night sky above them.) There is intent as she looks to, letting herself fall away piece by piece and withdraw to the place into herself that she had long ago created - a secret hideaway where Lilliana had only known to survive.
She remembers another time looking at the frosted ground. She remembers wondering if he intended to use it as the canvas to leave His message - to use their lifeblood as a message of warning to her mother and the others. Lilliana remembers contemplating what it was to die; who would make her family smile is their beacon was no longer there to torchlight their way.
(’Go,’ is all her blonde cousin had said. 'No,’ Lilli had whispered back, ‘I won’t leave you with him.’)
”I think that’s enough,” Wolfbane hisses behind her. "Leave us be and let the brat go home.”
Lilliana looks up slowly, her blue eyes seeking Fiorina before meeting her gaze - before Lilliana silently conveys her intent.
(His green eyes rest on Elena and she is powerless. There is nothing she can do to stop him. Lilliana is frozen beside her cousin, quaking with the knowledge that there is nothing she can do to save her. What match are two yearlings against a demon? ”I was simply collecting what was owed to me,” the antlered stallion hisses in response to the silver Regent.)
"Don’t act the hero,” Wolfbane says and Lilliana agrees with him. The chestnut mare had grown up with Guardian angels waiting in her wings and looking at Fiorina - she can’t bear to look at Ruth just yet - there is a knife twist in her gut that says that the warrior before her would try to be exactly that. It’s exactly what she is afraid of.
"No harm is coming to either of these mares today. If she won’t go with you freely, then they are leaving with me. Find some other prey.”
("You will leave. Now. This is the last time you step upon the lands of my family and leave unscathed,” threatens the gilded stallion. Valerio had stood over them all - imperial in his stance - and every inch the Guardian that Lilliana had always imagined, striding in at the exactly the right moment to drive the intruder away.)
Lilli finally looks to Ruth who stands guarded, who wraps herself in her dark wings and the copper mare desperately wishes she could enfold the girl in her embrace. She wishes she could tell her that it will be alright. Her past and present are colliding together and it takes everything in her to battle them both.(A perfect storm combines and spins in her mind - remembering what she couldn't do then and what she could do now.) At this moment, Lilliana only knows that she wants Ruth as far from Wolfbane as she can.
(”Woah, you're a fire,” says a spindle-legged golden child with dark downy feathers on her wings. Lilliana laughs, reminded of another sunglow-hued filly. The memory ripples, replaced by another golden girl of a similar age who smiles at Lilli. "Have you heard of tulips? They grow up through the snow so you don’t even have to wait for spring,” her cousin elaborates.)
It has something that has haunted her for her entire life, wondering what had happened to them that day if her parents hadn’t intervened. There is a part of her that knows - that even if they had fought back, Lilli and Elena would have become another casualty to His list. They would be another story of warning for future Legacy generations - like the stories of the demise of Zamier, Benjamin, and Shiri.
Fiorina would intervene on their behalf but Lilliana is done being a damsel in distress - it is something she has never wanted to be so when a tentacle strokes her cheek, Lilliana doesn’t move. She decides. Her decision comes out in a plume of silver smoke, barely visible in the dark. ”He’s an old friend,” (Liar, says a voice from within.) The crimson mare gives a nonchalant shrug of her slender shoulders (as nonchalant as one can be while entwined and wrapped up in tentacles) and there is a stubborn hold to her chin when she looks back to the armored mare.
She can’t look at Ruth.
(Home. It is the western shore where the sea crashes against the Redwood forest. It is a glimpse of impossibly tall trees. It is a glimpse of the lonely, gray cliffs of Nerine. Of a spotted mare, of a red one with bone armor, of a bald-faced one - the ones who make up the nucleus of her days in Nerine. )
Lilliana is pulled back and she doesn’t fight it; what night remains them is dissolved into a melting of gold and copper.
Go, she wants to plead with them. She had failed her cousin that day but she won’t fail Ruth. Fiorina could get them both back to Taiga or Nerine, wherever she wanted to take them. She just needs to take the chance.
The chestnut doesn’t smile but there is nothing in her voice that trembles, nothing that gives away her lie. (What is one more?), "We’ll be fine,” Lilliana responds. As if nothing about this is out of the ordinary, as if she isn’t afraid, as if she isn’t battling the corridors of her mind and memories.
Lilliana - true to her nature - looks up to @[Wolfbane].
LILLIANA and its harder than you think telling dreams from one another
03-17-2020, 11:44 PM (This post was last modified: 03-17-2020, 11:45 PM by Izora Lethia.)
She does not know exactly what she is walking into from the edge of her peaceful world, noone would in fact. She had left Taiga by herself, she had become accustom to this as of late but on any other day it would be in a direction that did not lead to others. She knew Taiga was in need of friends and that is solely what pulls her towards the field, that and maybe the soft scents of her friend Lilliana.
She had been excited to see her first, the bond she had shared with her and been stronger than any other mare amongst Taiga. She appreciated her presence and if she had not learned to wrap herself within her gift of peace her heart would have weighed mightily in sadness while missing her dear friend.
Memories weaved their way through her consciousness as she picked up her pace. The laughter shared between her and all of her children, the first time she saw Lilliana amongst the trees, lost and uncertain, their shared appreciation for their redwood home and those that resided there, even Wolfbane... once upon a time. His face flashed across her mind and where once upon a time she would have shivered in hatred and fear she simply nodded her head.
It was another's shrieks of fear that ripped her from those memories, for a brief moment as she sprinted forward in time watch Wolfbane transform into a beast and trap another horse did her self made shield of peace falter and fear and anger gripped her every muscle propelling her forward. She reached the outer most part of the group before faltering, Lillian's voice strumming through her ears he's an old friend, well be fine.
No. Fuck that.
Lilliana. Stop she shouted. She had promised to be there for her friend and had failed in her absence not a single part of her being cared if THIS was really what Lilliana wanted. She had become quick and accurate with her gift.
In the next split seconds she had let her shield down just enough to let the anger that drove her take over. She sent out thick, pulsing, invisible tendrils of peace towards the monster that was Wolfbane. Her eyes locked with the demon inside of him as she pushed farther than she ever had before. A thin blanket of peace wrapped firmly around her friend, a small comfort as she stood tangled in the unknown. The thick rope like tendrils wrapped securely around each and every tentacle, weaving in a over, under, unbreakable pattern. Folding in on Wolfbane himself, a monster with no feelings.
Lethy did not know if this would work, how could she? But she knew that a man like Wolfbane had rejected any notion of positive feelings in his crazed, confused mind. Anger, evil, and weakness is what created a monster like this and her hope was that she could force just enough peace on him, a peace he could not escape that for a moment (that's all she needed, was a moment) he would see who he had become. She gritted her teeth as she forced that invisible energy from her body and into her woven blanket of peace wrapped tightly around Wolfbane.
Would she be able to trap him long enough that she could force him to feel something, anything. With peace comes happiness, love, and certainty no matter how fleeting it is. She just needed him to loosen his grip on her friend long enough for her to disentangle herself. @[Wolfbane] @[Ruthless] @[Fiorina] @[lilliana]
![[Image: Wolfbane2.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/601918740845559818/696502662816071770/Wolfbane2.png)
![[Image: 3bCHvj.png]](https://img.nickpic.host/3bCHvj.png)
