"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
04-10-2021, 12:00 PM (This post was last modified: 04-10-2021, 05:05 PM by Obscene.)
Kiss me again Kiss me until I am sick of it
Pull yourself together. There’s going to be a party. The few fae that looked out for him (more like patronizingly helped him when he constantly crashed into their thicket in a highly inebriated state) seem excited as they buzz around his ears and giggle with excitement. He had found the fairies as a child by accident on one of his many lonely outings. They weren’t important on the scale of Beqanna faerie hierarchy, couldn’t grant him gifts or do much with their magic, but they were kind to him and that had mattered most. He did a piss poor job of returning the favor, constantly making a mess of their home and showing up drunk after stealing their nectar liquor, sometimes high if he stumbled across those special delectable mushrooms. Yet they looked after him just the same, like a naughty puppy that needed constant scolding but they couldn’t help but give him a comforting scratch behind the ears after.
The familiar throbbing of pain right behind his eyeballs has formed a hard knot of a headache as he groans and stretches, sprawled in the little thicket of the Meadow. ”Oh do shut up.” He groans to the chattering sprites but they pay him no mind and his words lack venom. A small splash of water across his face is enough to make him pop open an eyelid, a fiery iris narrowing in annoyance. Fine, he’s up. Grumbling, he finally stretches and rolls to his belly, the pounding in his head fading slightly as he takes in the activity around him. As soon as they realize he’s fully awake, they descend on him in a flutter of wings.
There’s no escape as they tease his raven locks and splatter gold dust along his cheekbones. They chide him as they primp and pinch him. This is an opportunity to make some friends, they say. He says nothing, having heard this lecture a thousand times. How it wasn’t normal for him to be alone all the time. How he needed to be a little less rough around the edges. You don’t want to die alone do you? This comes from the sharp admonishment from one of the plumper fae. (Well yes, maybe I do) he thinks but doesn’t speak. Instead… "I’m going to look stupid.” He growls as they press the metallic dust to his fur but he knows that’s a lie. The one thing he has going for him is his looks. Ridiculously good looking and the stain of gold on black only seems to enhance it. In a matter of minutes they are finished, pushing him from the thicket towards the portal, reminding him to eat and sober up.
They were so annoying.
He couldn’t help but love them deep down in his little withered heart.
Making his way towards the portal, he swipes a few tufts of summer grass on his way. Trying to stop the rumbling in his belly and easing the pain in his head. He still isn’t a big fan of how bright the sun is, how it had infiltrated the cool darkness that he had grown accustomed too. Apparently this party was to welcome it back and his nostrils flare as he snorts with a flicker of amusement. As long as he could find a drink in that place then he would celebrate whatever they wanted. The arch of ice appears, tall and cavernous in its appearance. A hint of stars and snowfall beckoning just beyond his reach. He doesn’t think twice as he steps though it and in a matter of seconds he’s standing in a snowy field, patches of dark granite pushing through snow and short stalks of grass.
His flesh responds to the sudden onslaught of cold with a shiver that runs along his shoulders. Immediately he’s searching for libations, mentally snapping at himself for not pregaming ahead of time. A little hair of the dog would have been perfect right now. His summer coat is thin and despite the warmth of the sun, the cold settles into his fur. Red eyes flicking to find his preferred method of combating the elements and social awkwardness (drinking) he starts moving towards the flickering blue flames of a tree (weird) in the hopes of some extra warmth. Perhaps he would run into something or someone interesting along the way.
He has a strange affinity for the north. Maybe because of the way the winter winds soothed his fever when he was ill, maybe because it was where Eight taught him to reach deep into his own strength. Regardless, he returns from time to time for the sake of his own nostalgia. Today he is met with a surprise as the frigid region prepares for its own celebrations to welcome the sun home. His bright blue eyes examine the ice archway that brings the party-goers here from some other place. This method of transportation is much more serene than his, he thinks.
Crowns finds his gaze drifting to the flaming tree before long, luring him closer as his own blue fires bob lazily around him. A quiet hum of thought escapes him when he realizes there is someone else wandering nearby. The stranger is close enough that the red of his eyes is easy to make out from the black of his face, but Crowns doesn’t seem bothered by them. Instead, he offers a soft smile and shifts his dripping wings so they rest comfortably across his back.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a burning tree that didn’t burn, have you?” he asks with a gentle laugh as he comes to a stop. The flames burning within Crowns send heat waves rolling up from his back and shoulders, each breath leaving him in a thick puff of steam against the freezing air. His glowing eyes notice the way the other shivers, but he says nothing of it and makes no offer to help. This stranger isn’t fragile in the way Olena was, so he supposes he should wait to be asked before providing anything.
“My name is Crowns, by the way. I came here from Tephra. How about you?” His blue and bay head tilts curiously.
It’s not much warmer by the tree. Blue flames flicker on it’s limbs and he can barely feel any heat, not enough to reach the coldness that’s spread within him. It was the kind of cold that only ardent spirits seemed to reach. He’s not impressed and it shows as his gaze flicks to the curve of the heart shaped lake that spreads beyond the tree. Tearing away to the voice that suddenly comes from his side with a soft laugh. The stranger was about his age, smaller than him, a mix of cobalt and rust. Of course he doesn’t miss the dripping wings that wet his backside either. When he was younger, he would’ve been intimidated by those wings. By magic powers and traits in general and his lack thereof of anything.
“You are what you are.” The fae had tried to comfort him when he would come back with his ego bruised and his feelings hurt. “You’ll never be like us or them so just be yourself.” They didn’t mean to be unkind but since the fae couldn’t lie they seemed oblivious to tact and circumstance. Besides, they were right. He might have the underlying cruel streak of the faerie people, the ability to be tricky and deceitful, the natural draw towards glamour and beautiful things, was able to mask his feelings. But he would always be a regular mortal. He would age and die while the fae that had looked after him would remain the same, while horses he had come to know did great and amazing things that lived on long after his bones had crumbled into sand. It couldn’t be helped, that it left a bad taste in his mouth. Well, at least he could lie.
No, he had never seen a burning tree that didn’t blacken and fall to ash and his attention returns back to it with a little shake of his head, regarding the unburnt bark with a slight frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “What’s the point of it?” He drawls, letting the embers of his gaze burn back on his new companion with the glowing eyes. A quick thought passing that it had gotten a bit warmer since the other had joined him. “Doesn’t give much bang for its buck does it?” The gold along his face glitters slightly as he offers Crowns a smirking grin. ”Obscene… From the Meadow.” The lonely boy that still lingers somewhere in his soul wonders if he’s just made a friend. He’s not really sure how friendships work but so far this seems to be a good start. Throwing his muzzle towards the festivities in general he asks, “So, what do you think? So far seems too much of a dry bar for my tastes but hopefully we can change that.” Another pause before he finally gives a pointed look towards Crowns's wings. "Won't those freeze out here?" He's aware that there seems to be a sense of heat coming off the male and these two facts of knowledge seem to contradict themselves so he keeps that thought to himself. Ignorant as always in the face of magic.
The question hangs there and Crowns turns it over a few times as he considers it a while. Of course, no answers come to him. Maybe the tree has no point to it at all and it exists only to be admired. He blinks a few times as he tries this conclusion on for size. The boy offers a light shrug before looking back to the stranger, chuckling at their shared ignorance.
“No idea! But the mystery of it makes it a little cooler, I think,” he says before catching the other’s name. Obscene, from the meadow. He commits it to memory and gives a slow nod as he repeats it a few times in his thoughts. Of course, he could pluck it from his new friend’s mind later if he forgot, but to memorize it feels far more sincere. “This get together isn’t quite my idea of fun, but I don’t think many people like the sort of excitement I do.”
He turns his eyes to the gathering numbers and their chattering clusters of bodies. They probably enjoy nice, pleasant things and simply go to sleep once the sun gives way to night. There’s no room for thunder and floods and poison here in this celebration. Slowly, he brings his bright eyes back to Obscene and his smile returns rather easily. Crowns spreads his wings and examines them as though seeing them for the first time.
“If I let them, maybe. They go cold quick, so I try to keep them hot,” he explains before flicking one wing and sending droplets sizzling into the snow. Crowns is careful not to let the scalding waters splash near Obscene. His wings tuck tight against his back once more and he turns his attentions back to his friend.
“You can stand closer, if you want. I don’t mind.”
The mystery of it? He hadn’t thought of it that way and tries to watch the blue flames licking the bark with a new perspective. Magic was already a mystery enough to him and he can feel the sharp ache of his resentment flare back to life. His flaming gaze narrows slightly at the tree, seeing only another stupid mockery of just how plain and mortal he is. It would be better off burnt to ash but he keeps that thought to himself.
It’s a rarity for him to genuinely like someone and even rarer to find someone who doesn’t seem to mind his company. He finds that he quite genuinely likes Crowns the moment the other young stallion shares his own sentiments about the party. There’s genuine curiosity lighting his face and a mischievous smirk on his lips as he asks, ”I quite agree. What kind of fun are you usually into? It might be more my flavor.” This festival was extremely dull and didn’t look very promising when there wasn’t a single party favor in sight. If there was one thing he hated more than being sober was being bored out of his skull. Something tells him that perhaps Crowns might be thinking along the same vein.
His attention is pulled back to the other’s wings and he watches the way water splashes and sizzles, melting spots of snow around them. A brow raises, both slightly jealous and impressed. “Now that’s better than the stupid tree.” He replies with a grin and takes a step closer to the other, instantly feeling a strong heat drawing the cold from his bones. He gives a slight nod of acknowledgment as he settles closer to Crowns and suddenly feels slightly off-kilter. He had never really had a true friend before (he doesn’t count the fae that looked after him as they were closer to family) and wonders if this is what friendship normally feels like. It makes him nervous so he continues his smirking grin to mask the discomfort these new feelings and thoughts bring. So far the raven stallion had been rather tame, keeping his natural disdain and dislike to a minimum but it was only a matter of time before he burrowed deep into his armor of cruel words and sneers which hopefully won’t chase away his new friend.
Crowns is, as usual, difficult to read behind his eager eyes and the gentle upturn at the corner of his lips. He searches his new friend’s face for a moment when he asks just what sort of fun the boy is interested in. Should he tell him? Should he keep the conversation lighthearted and easy? There are plenty of other party goers to talk to if Obscene ends up disliking whatever he suggests.
“Sometimes Rosebay and I like to see who can get the closest to dying and still come back. We’ve gotten very, very good at it,” he says with a laugh. They had poisoned each other and then tested their strength against all the odd little monsters in that eternal night. Now, he was bored with their old games and in search of new ones. He wanted to find the razor edge dividing this world from the next now that the veil had shifted back into place. There was more to lose, now.
“What about you, Obscene? What’s your favorite brand of fun?” He tilts his head and maintains that gentle grin despite the weight of his words or the ideas playing through his mind. His bright blue eyes watch as the other comes closer to enjoy the warmth that Crowns radiates. He likes to think that Obscene will not upset him the way Altar had, that he will answer in a way that will delight him.
“Better yet, what’s the closest you’ve come to dying?”
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Obscene has spent most of his young life trying specifically not to die. It was a harder task as an ungifted mortal, staying alive. You didn’t seek out death willingly that’s for sure. However when Crowns speaks of a death challenge of sorts, he can’t help the bloom of his own morbid curiosity. “How do you do that?” He finds himself asking despite his best common sense. What would it feel like to die? How do you stop death? That in itself is the question worth asking and he wonders how Crowns and his peculiar friend manage to do exactly that. The answer is already there, a bitter pill in the back of his throat. Magic of course. It must be magic.
When he asks how close he has come to dying, he snorts softly with that bitterness still lingering on his tongue. “I almost fell into a volcano once.” He admits, a memory that he had not forgotten as its one of the few he has regarding his childhood. The part where his parents were still a part of it. He had been only a few months old, tottering around Tephra with his head held high. Offspring had not hidden his fire magic from his son and so the young colt had wondered if he too had been graced with some sort of flame. It had been stupid curiosity that had his head dangling into the open mouth of the volcano to watch the lava bubbling within, even stupider luck that when he slipped Tantalize had suddenly been behind him with her wings spread, anger on her face as she gripped him at the base of his neck and thrown him back. It had been a thrilling feeling now that he recalled it but had quickly been smothered out the moment both of his parents had scolded him, berating his mortality into every inch of skin and bone so that he would remember how useless he was.
He hated remembering that.
“Do you know how to stay alive without using magic?” He suddenly asks, looking to Crowns with an unreadable expression. If he had gotten so good at not dying then maybe there was simply a trick that even he could use. It’s doubtful but it can’t hurt to ask. As for his own brand of fun… Red eyes sparkle like uncut rubies as he looks around the party and land on a small group of horses laughing and enjoying themselves. “I like pranks and dislike being this sober. Do you think she would cry if her tail caught on fire?” He motions towards the giggling mare, wondering if there was a way to separate a blue flame from the tree before them. Not to kill or anything like that, murder wasn’t his kink, but he thinks he would find the taste of tears enjoyable if someone’s glorious tail burned away to cinders or better yet stayed aflame forever if touched by the supernatural fire. Punished by the very thing they all adored, magic.
