"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’s fascinated by her daughter. Was it a sin to have a favorite child? Dacia has something that Lupei was lacking - a hidden talent besides the one that was beginning to show itself. Her little olive-green daughter is strikingly beautiful, and in her prime Astri knows she’ll surpass many a mare. Of course, this will be her downfall too, but Astri makes a silent promise to herself that she’ll teach her all she can about self-defense, and she’ll have her older, half-brother Lupei to keep an eye out for her.
Lupei. She loved her son too, dearly, but he was a stallion. He’d practically raised himself and half the time Astri was surprised he even listened to her anymore. The bond between them had long ago severed. So it was her and her little mini-me now, both trotting rather happily into the center of the meadow to catch the local news. From looking at her, you’d never guess Astri was a loyal Chamber member, or that she chose to join the army, but she’d rather keep it that way. Always have others assuming she was a gentle, motherly mare. It made the shock in their eyes when she tore them a new one so much more enjoyable.
Mother and daughter come to a halt, the young filly frisking around her in an enjoyable circle. She eats, trying to replenish what Dacia has taken from her through her pregnancy. They’re both a rather vibrant shade of green, but luckily for her daughter, she won’t be confined to that sickly shade her whole life. Astri watches her, laughing softly as the slender girl draws herself up prettily. Her own eyes glance away, wandering around the meadow to see if there are any other new mothers about. She was sick of being buried alive in testosterone.
There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
Once she might have been a beautiful mare. Once she might have had to worry about being an object of unwanted attentions, might have had to worry about learning to defend herself from such advances. But not any longer. A foolish mistake in her youth had led to her downfall. Everyone has that one moment that brings them from their pedestal, awakens them to the cruelty and unfairness of the world. Hers had simply come early in life, in a horrifyingly violent way. In fact, she should probably be dead. Would be, if not for the whim of a magician. But she had been left marked for it, her once lovely, unblemished body left scored by hundreds of cracks. The dark fissures in her skin flash occasionally with bright light, a light that should have been easily contained inside of her but no longer is.
In a way, her brokenness is beautiful. The flickers of light accent her lithe, slender frame, drawing attention to her when she wishes it to. It is intriguing and deceptive, showing the world one thing even while a completely different creature lingers just beneath surface. But then, anyone who knows her knows not to judge her by the cracks marking her skin. And if those who don’t know her want to judge her based upon appearances alone, all the better. Being underestimated can be quite useful, letting others learn the hard way the folly of their judgements.
She had grown bored, had come to the meadow seeking new entertainment. It is not a place she frequently visits, but she always manages to find something (or rather, someone) to keep her busy for a time. Today is one such day.
She hasn’t been here long, having landed amongst the new grass only a few minutes earlier, when she spots a vibrantly green mare a short distance away. Her curiosity is immediately piqued, the unique coloring drawing her interest. While it is true that oddly colored horses are not entirely rare (she might considered oddly colored, after all, as well as her brother and father), but for her, seeing one entirely colored thus is a somewhat unusual sight. And so, she decides to approach, if for no other reason. Well, aside from the fact that she is quite pretty. She does have a hard time resisting pretty mares.
As she nears, she notices a darker green filly trailing along beside her. One she hadn’t noticed immediately, her attention having been focused on the mother. Fortunately she rather likes children, though until she had met Anguisette, she hadn’t realized how much she likes the little creatures. Before they had simply been odd little horses that she hadn’t been sure what to do with. Sometimes still isn’t, if she were to be fully honest.
With the light flashing almost lazily, slow trickles of white highlighting the dark cracks, she halts, golden gaze fixed curiously upon the duo.
”Hello. I’m Joscelin. You’re quite lovely, you know. You’re coloring, I mean.”
She should really practice her pick-up lines. Hers rather suck.
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria
html c insane | picture c mikanicole.deviantart.com
Even in the broad daylight the glimmer of light catches her eye, as if someone has taken a small hand-mirror and reflected the sun directly into her line of sight. Astri blinks, turning her head about so that she can pinpoint the source of the distraction. It’s a mare, perhaps once achingly beautiful (and as she nears, Astri sees there is still the reminiscence of ancient beauty hidden in the lines of her face, the curves of her body) if it were not for the eye-catching rivulets of open cracks along her skin. The hint of light that dances beneath her surface is fascinating, and Joscelin’s introduction causes the mare to offer a sideways, alluring smirk.
“I could easily say the same for you. Astri.” She replies thoughtfully, shifting gently to the side so that her invitation to the other mare is quite obvious. It’s funny almost, she wonders if Joscelin’s outer appearance is anything like her inner workings. Was she broken on the inside too? Or was it something that she wore now as a badge of pride - that she could not be broken no matter what life threw at her. The little green mare’s thoughts tangle themselves up into a ball of questions, but she suppresses the urge to overwhelm her companion.
“No child of your own?” She inquires, truly curious as to whether or not there might be the male equivalent of interest for the shimmering girl. Of course, her own daughters origins could be incriminating evidence against her true intentions, but Astri saw breeding as only a means to an end - that end being Dacia and Lupei, who were both the highest points of her life.
There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
Once she might have been broken on the inside. No, not might have. Had been. She had been fortunate though. She had had family that loved that, that cared for her. That stood by her even through the threat of obliteration. A broken Joscelin had not been someone to take lightly. Contained inside of her had been a tightly leashed power. One loosed upon the world when she had frozen. Had shattered into a thousand pieces and then glued haphazardly back together by a careless magician. Her brother had stood by her, even through the wild bursts of pain and rage and light. Even when she could so easily have killed him.
But she is better now. Infinitely so. Remade. Forged into something new. Something dangerous and lovely all at the same time. She looks broken on the outside, it is true. But those breaks inside had healed. And been welded into something stronger. Something fiercer. Where once a naïve, happy, and completely oblivious girl had been stands a strong warrior with steel in her spine.
Different, certainly. And in her humble opinion, far, far better.
She wonders if this woman can see it. If beneath that attractive façade is a woman of substance who sees beyond the broken surface. She hopes so. She has had rather abysmal luck in the romance department. Maybe this woman could change that.
Only time would tell however.
The other mare’s comment brings a small smile to Joscelin’s pale lips, a simple quirk. One hardly worth calling a smile, but there nonetheless. It’s been a long time since anyone called her lovely.
”Astri…”
She tastes the name on her tongue, rather liking the way it rolls past her lips.
”I’m Joscelin.”
Astri’s next question causes Joscelin’s small muzzle to wrinkle slightly in distaste. Not for the potential children. No, she likes children. They are rather interesting little creatures. No, it is for the act required to create children. It’s distasteful. Disgusting, really. One day, she would like to have children. But she would have to quell this nausea in her stomach at the thought first. It wasn’t a process she particularly cared to begin.
”No.”
A hint of amusement lights her golden eyes as she pushes back her first reaction. Her lack of children is certainly not for a lack of suitors. Or trying. She nearly laughs as she remembers Killdare’s determined flirtations. But she is made of sterner stuff than he was apparently used to.
”I’d have to find a man I liked well enough to, uh. Well, you know. To overlook the unpleasantness.”
A slight smirk crosses her lips then.
”But that’ll be long in coming.”
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria
html c insane | picture c mikanicole.deviantart.com
There’s something … exhilarating about the way that Joscelin speaks her name. A shiver involuntarily runs the course of Astri’s spine and settles somewhere deep in her gut, twisting there as she inhales deeply to try and contain this strange sensation. She’d never felt this way before - whatever this way was. The green girl blinks and looks away from the shattered mare, eyes drifting to where Dacia was playing quite contentedly some feet away. She silently compares this moment to the one where Killdare had come for her advice. He’d said her name, hadn’t he? She certainly hadn’t let it her affect her the way it was irking her now. Then again, it hadn’t been said with the same connotation, the same appreciation.
“Joscelin.” She replies, the word falling from her tongue like a single pearl. She can’t help herself now, can’t stop the shy smile that flickers briefly and then fades away. Who was she, and why was Joscelin making her out to be an air-headed filly? The solemn “No” that drops like a deadweight between them causes her to snap from her hazy moment of insecurity, and she looks back to the oddly amused mare with a quizzical expression. Astri tries very hard to contain herself, but the bark of unappealing laughter that leaps from her throat and causes her to shake her head simply won’t be contained.
“It’s funny that you put it that way.” She begins, trying to quiet the light chuckles that follow. “I couldn’t agree with you more, of course, but I’ve certainly never heard it explained the way you put it. Especially coming from … well, you know, you.” She says, feeling all at once that the tension from before has now disappeared. She sighs, shifts imperceptibly closer to Joscelin, and stares emptily at her child. She wants to tell the glimmering mare that the results are worth the degradation and embarrassment of a few seconds, but something about the way the other woman carries herself stops her.
Astri is far from the ideal mare herself. She isn’t rounded hips and suggestive eyes. She’s an older, feral, more practical sort of beauty that often goes unappreciated in the wilds of Beqanna today. Outside of this world, she is a target, and the hard lines of her face and the sharp edges of her shoulders betray that she’s been a fighter since birth. Joscelin, however, is something altogether unreal and hauntingly beautiful. Even now, as Astri tries to refrain from looking back at her, the bright flashes of light burn in her memory. “I look around me at the other mares and wonder if I’m missing something.” She murmurs. “Like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of them.”
She’s rambling, she knows this. But she’s never told anyone how she’s felt before (its never been necessary) and somehow she reasons that if she never sees Joscelin again, well then at least she’s gotten it off her chest.
There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
She watches the shiver that runs across the green mare’s skin, following the trembling flesh with an almost hungry gaze. She nearly touches her lips to skin, wanting to feel that slight quiver. But she resists. She resists because she is not entirely certain how Astri would react. Whether she would welcome her touch.
She doesn’t recognize the other woman’s returned interest. Not right away, at least. It is something new. Novel. She has crashed and burned so many times that it has almost become second nature to her. She doesn’t know what it is to succeed. Not in this department, at least. Give her a fight to pick and she would have that wrapped up in a heartbeat. But romance? Suffice it to say that, in most cases, it is not actually the thought that counts.
She follows the other mare’s gaze to the young girl a short distance away. She eyes for a moment, admiring the darker green coloring that offers a lovely complement to her mother’s. Her gaze flicks back to Astri when her name passes her lips, causing a faint curl of… of something to unfurl inside of her.
The woman’s laughter at her descriptive response causes an echoing smile to curve her lips. It is a real smile, something rarely seen upon her features. She likes that she had made her laugh. She does not usually think of herself as very amusing. Tipping her head slightly at the last part of the mare’s comment, she eyes her in bafflement.
”Me?”
Her curiosity and confusion are evident. She had never really considered herself anything special, and certainly not any sort of authority on any subject in particular.
Astri continues, and Joscelin gazes her with a new light in her eye. A new realization. An understanding that they are far more similar than she might have thought them to be. She looks more closely at the mare, her golden gaze thoughtful, considering.
It is true, the other woman is not all soft curves and softer eyes. She has angles and edges, a roughness (fierceness, almost) that Joscelin can appreciate. That tells her quite clearly that this is a woman who can take care of herself. She has always been drawn to strong women. To unique women. She does not want a spineless sap with bedroom eyes and a boring personality. She wants someone with fire in their veins and a story in their gaze.
She doesn’t care that Astri is rambling a bit. Every word she says makes perfect sense to her. She understands. She knows. Because that has been her life too. Only, she has always known why the pieces don’t always fit.
Easing closer, she lifts her pale muzzle, brushing against the brightly colored mare in a tentative caress. Her words, when they come, escape her lips on a soft breath.
”Sometimes you just need to find the right pieces.”
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria
html c insane | picture c mikanicole.deviantart.com
There is the immediate sensation of a dam yielding its strength to the opposition of the flood waters the instant that Joscelin touches her skin. Astri is overwhelmed by the effect, as if questions that had previously been complete mysterious were now, and had always been, common knowledge. Outwardly, her skin quivers, ears tilting back to hear Joscelin’s steady voice as the mare answers her concerns.
Astri knows that she has many choices ahead of her now. Paths that seemed previously blocked begin to unfurl, and her mind wanders over the possibilities that Joscelin unveils to her. She could be happy now, maybe, with this new understanding, this new enlightenment. Joscelin had unveiled what Astri herself had never bothered to see before. The little green mare smiles gently, leaning ever so softly into the tentative embrace.
Joscelin is the only one who knows her secret now. Astri sighs, choosing to enjoy the moment and place it away for later, when the flickering mare is not so close as she is now. “Do you come to the meadow often and end up talking about puzzle pieces?” Astri laughs, finding that though the sensation of affection is new to her, it’s not unwelcome. She wants to return the touch, to feel Joscelin’s wonderfully unique skin, but she’s reserved, still unsure if what happened was simply an overthought action of kindness.
Astri does know that she suddenly wants to have Joscelin as a more familiar figure in her life. She admits to herself that she wouldn’t mind at all if she happened to stumble upon her in her travels, to spend more time wherever it was that Joscelin called home. She’s fascinated by her, and that fascination has a thousand or so questions clambering in her mind for attention. But time was all she really wanted, if she was being honest. Time with Joscelin, and time to understand this new developement in her own story.
