"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
11-20-2016, 06:06 PM (This post was last modified: 11-23-2016, 12:35 AM by Stillwater.)
Stillwater
He'd always fed at night, kept himself concealed within the depths of darkness. It was not just that he was a loner. It was that he was a danger. Out of mutual respect alone, he'd secluded himself from the rest of them, chosen not to partake in what came so easily to him. What was made so available to him. But she was gone now. Her stench soured and stale. Their protection had abandoned them. A slow grin stretched his black lips.
For a brief time, also out of his misplaced respect for their weak queen, he'd attempted life among the meadow scum. There were caves there, if they could be called such. Shallow, pathetic scoops from the earth, not at all deep enough for the darkness his mother had raised him to take rest in. It lacked the sweet fragrance of this coast. The water here was cleaner, crisper, smoother. It was his home. It was his ocean. He'd never again have to feel the filthy sea of the meadow's coast painting his slick coat in it's thick muck. And he never again had to do it by night.
Now. He walked in by broad daylight, the bright sun soaking into his colorless coat, blacker still than the darkest of demons. He returned to his home. Not a soul stirred in the dead landscape. Plantlife still thrived, overcame the areas that had once sported grazing bodies of horses. It was overgrown, untended. Wild and abandoned. And his for the taking.
It was perfect.
He stood on a familiar hill, near his cliffs. It was so strange to see it by day, to be on it by day. His chest rumbled at this turn of events, wicked laughter spilling out of him. He didn't even care how loud it sounded to his ears so used to the quiet dribbling of a leaky cavern. No one was around to hear it anyway. So he laughed. He did whatever the hell he wanted.
At last, he was home again.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
His laugh quickly reaches her ears; the silence is shattered by the lonely noise. She has been here wandering and contemplating how rapidly their land has declined. It has spiraled. The voices that had been so exuberant and passionate have died away. All she hears day after day is the lapping of the sea and their dreams sinking underneath the waves.
Somehow a string of hope catches her when she hears the masculine chortle and she pursues the source of it with quick, calculated steps. With the coastline at her back, Nayl tediously clambers up a rocky trail until she is atop the jagged cliff. The wind here is powerful and whips her unruly locks into chaos. First, she peers over the edge and sees almost how far the ocean reaches. She can see schools of fish beneath the surface and an occasional shark piercing the water’s surface with a thin dorsal fin. From this vantage point she sees much more of the coast than she ever has. There is more to it than the sandy shore and shallow caves. For a moment, it distracts her until his foreign scent sweeps into her nostrils. With narrowed eyes she turns and joins him.
The laugh is still echoing in her mind – hearty and so very confident – and she skeptically looks upon him. ”Who are you?” She asks with a tone encased in ice, but her eyes are aflame with the colors of autumn. There is no one to stand behind her, no one to claim watching their borders as she has, but she doesn’t let the truth slip past her lips. She tries to tell – lie – to herself that the sisters are relaxing in the caverns and that it isn’t just the two of them here. ”What brings you to Nerine?” The question had been briefly waiting on the tip of her tongue while her curious mind thirstily drank in the sight of him.
"Who are you?"
Her sharp query pierced the eerie quiet between them like a pike of solid ice. A shotgun blast in a canyon. Dark, gray-blue eyes slid to her, amused grin tilting his lips. Was that an echo he heard bouncing all around the two of them? All the emptiness, the dead silence. So sad. So very entertaining.
"What brings you to Nerine?"
He laughed again, dark eyes taking in their surroundings hungrily as though for the first time. His lithe form slipped around to face the sea, and he inhaled deeply the salty air. It was rejuvenating, electrifying, and his eyes gleamed. He'd missed this dearly. He was never going back to that wretched wasteland they called the Meadow. This was where he belonged.
Home.
You mean they still call it that? he asked lightly with a chuckle, steadying his gaze on her again, a bright smile beaming at her. It might have even covered the mock in his words. Is that what you would choose to call it? You are the only one here, after all. What would you name your kingdom, princess? Well, not the only one. He could hardly include himself in that measure, however, and it was obvious the rest had fled at the disappearance of their queen. Only this one remained. Loyal, or ambitious?
He had been here from the start, alongside but separate from the dear queen Naga. The two of them had a silent agreement: he'd stay out of her way, not harm her people, and she would allow him to remain locked away in his cave. It was all he required and it had suited him. He certainly didn't want her precious crown, for all the dust and turmoil it was worth now. If this fire-eyed creature longed for such a thing, he surely wouldn't stand in her way. He desired only his precious hollow pit of darkness.
His eyes flickered in the direction of his cavern, though it wasn't visible from their current perch. Had it been low tide and the entrance revealed, he might have walked away and left her to her own devices. As it was, he had a good while until the tide ebbed, and the light could illuminate his doorway for his perusal. Here's to hoping she was capable of more than the growling kitten face he'd seen plastered on the rest of them. They only had that one look, and they all shared it like a uniform. All the same, no originality. So boring.
What would you do with it, if it were yours? he asked, his voice mellowing and losing its former mirth, eyes distant. What would she do with it, what would she do with him.
And did she like to swim?
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
”Yes, it’s still called that,” she quips, but then she can’t deny the amused grin that lifts itself across her lips. Indeed, she and Djinni have been the only ones here as of late, but even then it has mostly been Nayl. The passionate sisters that had been so eager to begin anew have since abandoned their hopes. Perhaps it would have been easier to call a mutiny, but there was seemingly no one here to support her claim; she was alone until now.
”I don’t mind the name,” she admits slowly, thoughtfully. Her eyes drop away to the cliff side and to the ocean below. She listens to the wind as it tousles her mane and the waves as they crash on the sandy shore. ”The name is nothing compared to what happens inside its walls.” The land could be called anything, and she wouldn’t care. It isn’t the word that you hear spoken on the lips, but the inhabitants, the Queen. That is what’s most highly regarded. The reputation lies in the hands of those living in the borders. As of now, they have no reputation due to their empty numbers and missing Queen. What reputation the sisterhood once had has now crumbled. The world doesn’t even know they exist anymore.
If she wins this challenge – oh, how she hopes to be the victor – then it could all change. It would all be in her hands, in her power. She would rule with an iron fist, but with justice. There would be life pumped back into this land where is has been lacking for nearly a year. Often, during her lonely nights, Nayl has contemplated all of this; it’s funny that he asks her now what she would do. A minor hesitation breaks his voice from hers, and she observes him carefully when she begins to reply in a thoughtful, but flat voice. ”I would have three guards; they would be the highest ranking stallions that I would trust most,” she begins as a sly grin creeps along her pretty face. Why is it that so many think she would oust the males? ”Stallions would likely be border patrol; I would ensure they’d have purpose and their own place. This is a new world, a place of change, and I understand that.” They assume that she is fastened to the old ways, that she would make slaves of all stallions. No, they have their uses. ”As for the women,” she trails off here, wondering if there are really any women left, ”I guess I’ll think of that when I see how many will come and stay under my reign.” Her muscles shoulders roll in a casual shrug.
”And you?” Her fiery eyes now delve deep into his, wanting the truth, ”Would you remain here should I become Queen?”
He dragged his eyes ashore when she answered him, mildly surprised she'd even bothered to. She didn't just answer though, not with a quick and thoughtless response as he had expected. Instead, she mulled things over, deeply considering thoughts he could only guess at. When she spoke, her answer was well examined and thorough.
Her vibrant eyes dropped away, and he took the opportunity to study her. Painted and alluring, she held herself tall. Pride edged every muscle and soft curve. "I don't mind the name. The name is nothing compared to what happens inside its walls." Thoughtful, consise. She seemed unguarded as she opened up to him, giving a brief breakdown of part of the changes she would enact. Stallions as guards, a sort of border patrol, and three as her most trusted. She certainly was making change.
About damn time the girl scouts grew up.
She shrugged away her plans for the women, opting to wait and see how many still remained. He met her gaze coolly as she turned to him again, "And you? Would you remain here should I become Queen?" More surprise, with this woman. He didn't think any other would have asked or even considered that he might stay. Perhaps she had reason to.
A stillness spread between them as he mused. She would allow males, some even holding ranks of their own. He didn't care at all for any of that save that he would not be chased from his cavern for simply being born as he was. Men stumbling across his home was far less appealing than women; they didn't scream as much. There was also the chance she could sense his hunger, and would like to keep her enemy closer.
A crooked grin gently parted his lips, blue-gray eyes reflecting her fiery intensity. I will stay. He held their quiet a moment longer before speaking again.
What else would you do with that mess of ranks they have? Would you keep their lorekeepers, the spirit caste, forever trapped in the past? Would you keep their attempts at an army, so quick to expect threats to the indigenous peoples?
He was not impressed with what had been done thus far. The loud ones had prodded and poked at the young Queen until she was confused and overwhelmed with trying to please them all and simply gave in to their every whim. Foolish ideas that held no real purpose were riddled all over the kingdom now, and not a one that had demanded it of her had stayed. Like wailing ghosts, they'd screamed and haunted her. Only to vanish.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
They will look at her now for answers, for guidance, for power. Nerine has been in a deep slumber, but it’s with her ascension that it will stir and it will flourish. Confident, Nayl looks away from him to see more of the landscape and more of what she will rule. A gut feeling stirs inside her and instills hope that she will rise to greatness, but it will not be alone. Every king, queen, or council needs their home – the populace – to thrive in order to find success. That, unfortunately, is where the shortcomings stem from. There are so few here, but with time more will arrive (she will see to it).
Nerine is not lost and it won’t sink further while the crown sits on her pretty head.
Perhaps that is why she unravels in front of him and why her plans open in front of him like a book desperate to be read; Nayl is confident. It will take her energy and soul to lift the herd from the shambles, but she will prove this place fruitful once more. There will be doubters such as there were for Naga and there will be supporters. Horses scaling the spectrum will stand before her and voice their opinions and Nayl will listen, but not always oblige. She is her own identity and not a puppet for them to influence and control. Every brewing thought and scheme is buried underneath layers of steel and rock, untouched by groping fingers and prying minds.
And so, with her ideas and her speculations for the stallions, she is pleased to hear that he will be staying. ”Good,” she replies tersely as a brow coyly lifts, ”Although you still have yet to even tell me your name.” She had almost forgotten how foreign they are to one another; conversation seems to come easily between them. His mannerisms and the inner hunger he has (it calls to her, but she doesn’t yet know why) lures her and holds her attention in a way she’s never before experienced. For a fleeting moment, she considers asking him a question meant for someone she has known longer, but she reconsiders when she listens to his question. It distracts her from the idea of filling ranks to instead creating them. Considering no one holds any prominent titles the slate is practically blank and ready to be melded into what she wants.
Ideas rush into her mind like flooding waters and she looks at him thoughtfully as she tries to piece together different formulas. ”Still under construction,” she admits because she hasn’t had much time to consider it, but she has a broad and general view. ”There won’t be quite so many ranks seeing as we don’t have enough residents to fill even one. If they really want to be storytellers then they can be the only two in their own special position – there is no need for ranks just to reminisce of the past.” Here, she coldly chuckles and shakes her head. ”Perhaps have a small division for soldiers – all just grouped together with a general. Those interested need to at least partake in a battle before actually being considered a soldier. No one will automatically become a part of this land because they want to. They have to earn their place.” A pause allows her to take a breath and to reconsider his opinion of the armed forced (if they can even be called that) and she smiles airily. ”Not an army in preparation for war, but obviously some women need to learn to fight.” Here she looks toward where Naga was last seen, the pacifist Queen. Not having skill in warfare helps no one and nothing. Their reputation has always been as warrior women, not pushovers.
Lifting her head, she still mulls everything over and tries to grasp what may very well happen and come to fruition rather than being a mere figment of her imagination.
But she isn’t in this alone; they are a group. She will listen, but won’t always oblige.
11-29-2016, 05:21 PM (This post was last modified: 11-29-2016, 05:22 PM by Stillwater.)
Stillwater
"Good," she said shortly. He quirked a brow at her, unintentionally mirroring her own lifted brow. Good, huh? "Although you still have yet to even tell me your name." She dragged another lazy smile from him.
I am Stillwater, he slipped in languidly, his voice low and soft. Though, the same could be said for her, couldn't it? It was almost unnecessary to ask though. He may not know her name, but he knew her by her recent actions. It was her scent that lingered the most across the nearly-empty coast. When she'd called her challenge, he'd heard it. When the queens battled, he'd watched on in silence, one of the few that bothered to do so. And when her victory was clearly inevitable, he'd returned home to await the expected meeting.
He didn't have a name, but he knew her.
Even now, he was learning more. The deep reflection in her eyes as she considered every angle of a problem. The fluidity to her stance, as though always ready for action. She was sharp, yet soft. Solid, both mentally and physically. No one would be pushing this queen around. Everything he was learning of her all seemed promising thus far, for a leader. But also dangerous.
"Still under construction," she said easily. Honest. He listened as she continued. With each point she hit, he grew more pleased with her rise to power. Although, it was almost a shame, as she was now untouchable to him. But he even liked that having been in a battle before would be a requirement for her future warriors. So, her next question had a simple answer.
"And you? What would you want to see in Nerine?"
He smiled slowly, looking deep into her eyes of fire. I am already seeing it, he said vaguely, eyes dancing with amusement.
By now, the tide had gone out some time ago, as he was submerged in conversation with her. He'd spent enough time in this blinding daylight. With a roguish grin, he tilted his head to her, breaking their locked gazes. Not a bow, but as close as he'd come to one. Then he took a few steps backward before dismissing himself.
It's been fun, he returned her show of honesty. She was intriguing. A beautiful enigma, yet sadly untouchable. She could've been a fun one to play with. We should do this again sometime. With that, he turned to leave, heading to his cavern at long last. Whether they saw each other again, he would leave up to her.
You know where to find me, he tossed over his shoulder lightly, flashing a smile at her. If she didn't already know he grazed at night, she'd no doubt have already happened across the deep cave that reeked of him; seawater, kelp, and sensuous man.
Here's to the future.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
