"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
The mare didn't count in years; she counted in seasons. The passing of seasons was easier to remember, and especially the winters. There were wet winters, cold winters, dry winters. Winters in which food was scarce, winter where the main goal was to seek warmth. All winters had one thing in common: Survival. It wasn't the easiest season, but it had hardened Serafine. Her steps onto the Field were secure and determined. Other than survival, she had a goal. A fight isn't over until it's won. Today she would continue a fight that had started several winters ago, even though the other party wasn't aware of that. Maybe didn't even know about her existence. She wouldn't call it revenge, for it was not. It was merely a need to know what had happened all those years ago, to be able to form her own side of the story instead of having to believe in rumors and ghosts of the past. This was both an ending and a new beginning, and the mare was torn between excitement and dread as her legs stopped moving and looked around the white plain.
The Field. How many winters since she had left this part of the world? Eight? And now she was back, deliberately on the Field, knowing she could be claimed wherever. For Serafine, it was the only right choice. Fate had brought her here, and fate would make her go to the right area. If she was lucky: If not, it was just another lesson she had to learn before she'd be ready. After the short pause, the silver buckskin started moving again in a slow trot, knowing that if she stood still for too long her muscles would freeze. Her ears moved back and forth, searching for another living soul in this otherwise deserted area. She could only hope it'd be soon, for if she didn't find any warmer place to be able to rest, she'd truly be in trouble.
She has to admit, she’s been avoiding the field. The idea of waltzing around and whining and dining the homeless of Beqanna does not exactly appeal to her. It’s not that she looks down on them or anything. It’s quite the contrary, she understands well what it’s like to be a foreigner in a new land. It’s just the fact that, well, to put it politely, she’s not much of a people person. She’ll talk to some of the people she knows to her heart’s content, but going through the delicate niceties of polite drivers her bonkers.
But, she is a member of the Jungle and her kingdom, as always, needs recruits. Not to mention that, if she wants to rise to the position of General, she needs to up her game, increase her activity and lead by example. And she wants that position, much to her surprise. She wants it more than she’s wanted anything in her odd, and far-ranging life.
And so, here she is, at the edge of the field, staring out across it for the first time in a long time. She eyes the gathered horses with a critical eye, considering which ones might do well in the Jungle. They need powerful, strong and opinionated mares. Wait … that’s herself. Really, they need anyone and everyone who might find a place in their heart for the muggy kingdom.
Her eyes pass over a particularly flirty mare, surrounded by stallions (probably wouldn’t do well in the Jungle, what with the lack of stallions and all), and settle on a paint mare that is, as of yet, unapproached. Lyris snorts and moves into action. Might as well give it a try.
She waddles over to the mare with surprising speed, grumbling under her breath about stupid stallions. She’s never been pregnant before (and really, hadn’t ever intended on getting pregnant), and her belly is expanding at an alarming rate. It’s making her look and feel like a beached whale. But at least another female can’t judge her for that … right?
She stops in front of the mare with a tired huff, and smiles in what she assumes is a pleasant manner. “Hello there, I’m Lyris!” She spots a dark cloud floating over head and tries to dismiss it, but it stubbornly hangs around. Pregnancy is just making her grumpy.
09-25-2015, 07:29 PM (This post was last modified: 09-25-2015, 07:32 PM by Fennick.)
the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Fennick was not born to confidence. He was born to awkward coughs and pained expressions. Yet, his confidence had grown. Having a purpose, having a home, having others who counted on him made the large black stallion carry himself with a touch of pride, rather than simple dogged determination.
He wasn’t exactly strutting, but his head was up, his eyes alert, he didn’t look like he would rather be anywhere but here. Granted, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and granted, he would never be a diplomat. Never, ever would he be what the kids called, “smooth.” But, he wasn’t a total train wreck and there was something to be said for that.
Personal growth, it’s what we all wanted.
Besides, he was getting the hang of this. He was starting to spot a potential Valley recruit when he saw one. His home, while filled with natural beauty, was not soft. The land was lush, the grass green, the trees sheltering and kind. It was an easy place to live, but it was not for the weak of heart. The horses in the Valley were tough, some more than others. They spoke their minds and didn’t easily suffer fools. That being said, Fennick made a fool of himself time and time again, and still they let him stay.
He needed someone who wouldn’t crumple when faced with a withering tongue and sharp expression, he needed someone who could bark back. Still, he would like to find that person and get them the hell out of here. Man, it was cold out here. Fennick wrapped his enormous black wings around himself and tried not to squeal like a child.
His teeth were clattering when he spotted the girl in the distance. She was smarter than Fennick, she kept moving, rather than standing around like an idiot. He started towards her, wings still wrapped about himself like a cloak. As he struggled through the snow another mare appeared. That gave Fennick only a moment of pause. Two girls were, naturally, twice as intimidating as one.
Fennick didn’t bother shouting to them, they would see him from a mile away. His jet black body stood out in the snow like an oversized raven. He stopped near enough to talk easily, and moved his wings just enough so that they wouldn’t muffle his voice.
“Man, if I knew it was going to be this cold I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning.” He smiled, a little awkwardly despite his insistence of confidence. When the silence had stretched out just a little too long he continued.
“I’m Fennick.” Another smile. Fennick still expected women to look at him and laugh. It was a disconcerting thought, though he tried his best to overcome it, or at least not let it show.
Cold. Despite her efforts to keep moving, she was shivering with it, and she knew she had to find shelter soon; preferably before the cold settled in her muscles. Fortunately for the young mare, a silhouette approached, the silhouette clearly visible against the white background. Serafine changed her direction a bit, walking towards the approaching mare and stood still when they were of an acceptable distance. Her eyes moved from the stranger's face to her body, noticing how swollen her belly was. At that, she immediately stared to the mare. "You aren't supposed to be here in this condition," Serafine briskly said, blunt honesty showing through her voice. She wasn't. She was pregnant, for heaven's sake- it was good for no one to be on an open field with weather like this, nevertheless someone who carried another life within her. "Be careful with what was given you. I'm Serafine," she announced herself, though a bit late. Just as she wanted to slightly bow her head into Lyris' direction (after all, she was still thankful for her coming), another one approached. A stallion, by the look of it, coming up behind Lyris. "We have company," the younger mare softly said, nudging her head into the newcomer's direction. Wait. Did he have... Wings? For a few moments Serafine stared at them. She had heard of them, of course. Horses that carried powers she couldn't even imagine. Still, she hadn't expected to find one right here, this quickly. “Man, if I knew it was going to be this cold I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning.” "It's winter," Serafine deadpanned, but nevertheless she wore a smile. "Serafine," she then replied, looking from left to right to both. She hadn't expected to have two people to welcome her; it made her a bit anxious, to actually have a choice. But... Was it a choice. "Are you of the same area?" she asked, then shortly shook her head and hit a hoof against the snowy ground. "No, wait. I'm cold. You're cold. Let's do this quickly." Once again she looked at both, head slightly tilted. "What do you offer and what do you seek?" Another time would be right for chitchatting and other pleasantries.
Fennick smiled and nodded slowly, amused by the bluntness of the silver girl. He had a hard time, saying the right thing at the right moment. It helped him, when his companions simply said what they were thinking when they were thinking it. Everything else was indiscernible, like a foreign language carved upon the wall. He quirked a smile at her.
“How foolish of me, to forget it.” Naturally, Fennick hadn’t forgotten that it was winter. Like a fool, he had simply refused to let it beat him, as if he could do anything but bend beneath the force of mother nature. Still, Fennick was like that, and once he’d gotten a thought in his head it would worry away at it like a dog with a particularly good bone.
Relentlessness, was what it was called. Pigheaded stupidity, if you were less generous.
He took in Serafine’s name, and felt the barest hint of her anxiety. It was probably him, Fennick immediately assumed. He had a habit of staring quietly. He’d come to understand that it unnerved people. Still, he listened to her question and tried to make himself seem friendly, less like an avenging angel with his burning eyes and dark wings. He was not sure what success he had, or if he had any at all.
“No, I’m afraid I’m missing the required parts for admittance to the Jungle.” Fennick would have colored a little if his blood wasn’t working overtime to keep him from getting frostbite. The Jungle was a mare’s only kingdom, and Fennick certainly didn’t meet that requirement. Still, he’d give a lot to be warm right now…
Quickly, he snapped back to attention. Serafine got right down to business, and it left little time for Fennick to scheme admittance to the Jungle. He may be pretty, but it would take more than his good looks to convince anyone that he was a girl.
“I’m from the Valley.” Fennick titled his head to show her his brand, a cursive V beneath his left eye. It marked his loyalty and devotion to his home.
“We’re a kingdom south east from here. If we leave right this moment we might make it back there before we give in to hypothermia.” Fennick was only half kidding. It was a bit of a concern, but he wouldn’t let that happen. Fennick still had a little pride, and that bit of dignity wouldn’t allow guests under his care to expire. You had to draw the line somewhere. But, still, no time to waste, he answered her question as simply as we could.
“The Valley offers complete protection, but demands complete loyalty. Our borders won’t allow anyone with ill intentions to cross. We won’t demand that you take our oath immediately, just that you obey our laws and respect our customs until you make up your mind. The rewards are great for those who are willing to sacrifice. I found purpose there when I needed it most.” That much was true, and Fennick delivered the truth with as much dignity as he could muster. His home was not for everyone, but those who gave their hearts to the Valley got something bigger than themselves in return.
She can’t help but feel awkward standing so close to the other mare’s comparatively lithe frame. She wants that back. She wants to be small and fit, she wants to not feel like a massive land whale any more.
She feels a flash of irritation at the mare’s first statement (the dark cloud overhead starts snowing in response), but she forces herself to grin. There’s a lot of things she’s not supposed to do … it’s never stopped her before! “Ehh I do what I want.”
But the mare seems strangely concerned with the condition of the damn parasite in her womb. Lyris exhales, trying to calm herself. It’s the sort of thing she’d brush off normally, but the damn hormones have made her ridiculously more reactive. Thankfully she manages to keep the irritation from her face, though the cloud above begins to snow a little harder. “Oh don’t worry. The kid’ll be fine. But if you’re really concerned I’ll get rid of the cloud. Or … I’ll at least stop the snow.” Stopping the snow seems like a more reachable goal at this point. She closes her eyes, exhaling, inhaling, trying to calm herself. Surprisingly it works, and the snow falling from the sky lessens, then disappears.
Which is when Serafine nudges her to alert her to the approach of a newcomer. Her eyes flash open and her head jerks around to stare at the stallion. She’s never seen him before, but he smells strongly of the Valley - a scent she knows all too well. She tucks her wings closer into her sides, and gives him a look that is part scowl, part attempt at a polite smile. It makes for an odd combination. “Hello Fennick, I’m Lyris.”
Both of them immediately comment on the cold temperatures, and Lyris fights the urge to roll her eyes. How … pedestrian. “I can try to make it warmer for you guys, but the hormones are makin’ it tricky. Give me a sec …” She concentrates, playing with air currents, drawing in a few rare warm ones, and forcing away a breeze that’s been contributing to the chill. And the result is a marginal rise in temperature. “That’s the best I can do at the moment.” She tried.
Serafine settles right down to business then, asking if they’re from the same place (which Fennick quickly answers) and what they want. Fennick barges on right ahead, giving Serafine the spiel on the Valley. Lyris eyes him testily, but her ears perk when he mentions that the borders won’t allow anyone with ill intentions to cross. She spots the brand below his eye as he dips to show Serafine. This is new. What tricks has the Valley been up to lately?
Eventually he stops talking, and Lyris takes the opportunity to leap in. “As Fennick here has already mentioned, I’m from the Jungle, which as he implied, is a kingdom of mares. Well, mostly mares.” She shoots him a glance. “The Jungle is to the south, so it’s considerably warmer than both the field here, and the Valley.” Especially since the Valley is in the damn mountains. “And we aren’t quite so … fanatical … about our borders.” Granted, there’s not much need for them to be. It’s easy to get lost in the Jungle if you don’t know your way around. “We are a hardworking kingdom, and are made up of a close-knit group of mares that we call sisters. We welcome all sorts.” Not close-knit in the traditional sense - Lyris isn’t overly buddy buddy with any of them - but she’d be willing to fight to the death to protect them. It’s a very different, and wonderful kind of bond. At least in her opinion.
