"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
07-06-2020, 06:34 PM (This post was last modified: 07-06-2020, 06:35 PM by evarae.)
I come to the caretaker under the dark evening skies and bright stars. Days ago my little butterfly and I had run across Clarissa and Cirilla. The day spent with them had been a lovely one and soon after an invitation to live in the same land had followed. With an eager acceptance I had grabbed hold of that offer and refused to let it go.
Though what came with that offer came the responsibility of approaching the one who led the land and saw over it's inhabitants. Catching sight of her I step forward, my son pressed against my side as I swallowed nervously. "Gospel?" My voice is stronger than I feel in the moment. "Clarissa told us to find you," my nerves are shot. The last time I had faced down a leader hadn't gone so well and the memories threatened in this moment to burst from mental box I had buried them in.
In all truth, there was no need to be this nervous, but something in me couldn't prevent it. "I don't want to waste your time..." My voice trails off as I look down at Bert and I shift my weight. "My son and I would love to live here."
It's too good to be true, I ain't got nothin' to do with you
07-07-2020, 01:05 PM (This post was last modified: 07-07-2020, 01:05 PM by gospel.)
BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS
SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES
She had known they were there.
Of course she had.
The alarm was only silent to those who did not call the Cove home. The mare had triggered it without ever knowing that she had. And, doing her due diligence, Gospel had gone to investigate. But the mare was no threat, so Gospel had left her to the throes of her labor and returned to whatever dark corner she had found to inhabit.
And still, she is found. Not that she had been hiding, per se, but she made herself scarce for a reason. She lifts her proud head, blinks those reptilian eyes, skirts her tongue across the edge of a fanged tooth and turns to face the mare. Glances only briefly in the child’s direction. There is nothing particularly noteworthy about him and she never cared much for children anyway. She had given birth to her own, reared them the best she knew how, and then encouraged them to leave her alone.
Clarissa. Something dark coils neatly in the narrow space beside her heart, twists her mouth into a smirk. “And what business does Clarissa have telling you to find me?” She asks, the tone cold as the rest of her.
The painted mare looks down at her son and Gospel follows her gaze, takes a beat to study the boy’s face. Skims the tongue across the fanged tooth again, lets the venom slow the heartbeat as she drags her focus back to the mother’s face. “What do you have to offer us?”
07-07-2020, 04:35 PM (This post was last modified: 07-07-2020, 04:36 PM by evarae.)
I shouldn't have expected anything less. It was as though I was attracted to the dark forces of the world. Cineres had been one of those forces. Strong and full of fire with a coat that ate the light around her. My best friend had been of the darkness and I had been of the light. Without her I was never as strong as I was with her.
That being said, when the time had come for me to step up, I always had. Despite the inner turmoil that rolled beneath my skin. I watch the way the mare moves to face me and the first thing I notice aren't her fangs, but the smirk that dances across her features before she speaks. 'And what business does Clarissa have telling you to find me?'
It's a question I don't necessarily ignore, but instead just simply choose not to answer. The mare's cold nature suggests that she has an issue with the other. Though that being said, Clarissa and Gospel's struggles are not my own and so it is not my business. My head turns towards Gospel, my attention completely focused on her and away from my son for the time being.
My heart is pounding in my chest as a blue eye watches the mare. 'What do you have to offer us?' It's a question that should not come as a surprise, though it is one. What did she have to offer? She was a newcomer who had, well, in all honesty... Nothing. For a moment silence drifts between the pair.
"To be honest," my lips purse together as my voice trails off and I glance at Bert. His eager smile and fluttering wings melt away the anxiety within me. "To be completely honest, I have nothing. I am not going to fill your head with bullshit and false tales of what I can or cannot do when it comes to power or 'abilities'," my voice is stronger now as my gaze shifts back to the mare. "But what I can tell you is that I'm a hard worker, I will bust my ass for you and this land. I'm not a fighter. But I have organized escape plans and rescue missions in my past. I will also help you with bringing fresh faces into this land. Growing your numbers when possible." My shoulders roll in the form of a shrug.
"Give me a chance to prove myself. I will serve you and this land for 3 years. If at any point I try to leave before that, you can kill me as punishment for breaking my loyalty to you." My life. My loyalty. My servitude. It's the best I have in this moment.
It's too good to be true, I ain't got nothin' to do with you
tdlr; evarae is offering her life to be tied to her commitment and loyalty to gospel for 3 BQ years. If she tries to break that tie and leave silver cove, Gospel can take her life.
BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS
SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES
It is not lost on Gospel that her first question goes unanswered.
It makes her nerves bristle, leaves them raw as she regards the mare standing in front of her. Perhaps there is some part of her more interested in the child huddled against her side, as if he might someday have more to offer the Cove than his mother. But she does not so much as glance in his direction, lest she give herself away. She merely goes on watching the mare, her tongue pressed against a fanged tooth.
The mare speaks, uses her hard language, and Gospel is almost moved to amusement. There is some distant corner of her that wonders if the mare thinks her language impressive. If she believes Gospel will be swayed by her unwillingness to waste her time or fill her head with bullshit.
She is not swayed to softness nor camaraderie by the mare’s words. It does absolutely nothing to warm her cold, cold heart. But not even she can deny that hard workers are useful or that the mare had listed qualities that were desirable, even to her.
There is no immediate indication that Gospel had heard her at all, except for the way she slides her gaze away from the mare’s face and lands them heavy on the boy’s. “Five years,” she echoes, glancing back at the mare. She only holds her gaze a beat, though, “and the boy stays, too. All five years.”
She shifts her weight, tilts her head at the boy. Roughly the same age as her own children, perhaps they can teach him something.
And finally, she returns her focus to the mare. “I have to ask,” she purrs, “why the Cove?”
