"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
a relit cigarette never tastes the same; that‘s all i‘ll preach on rekindling old flames
Until now, solitude had suited her. Until now, her self imposed exile had been much needed and well deserved. Up until now, she had craved nothing more than the quiet the depths of Beqanna afforded her.
Up until now.
The equine was never meant to be a solitary creature, stalking the forests like the tiger, coming together only to reproduce and avoiding one another every other day. However, the shock of her world being torn away from her had broken something inside of her. Crying was not an option; she had no voice. She was no coward, so flinging herself into the ocean wouldn’t do. Instead, she had slipped away unnoticed, leaving behind anyone and anything she had ever cared about. The forest welcomed her like an old friend, despite how different the landscape was. Surely the trees remembered her- the old her, the days of mighty crowns and raptors teeth. Now, though, she was just a shell of that powerful reptilian queen.
Bright, clear sunshine streamed down onto her mousey back. Her breath rose in small puffs in front of her, mingling with the bitter winter air. A blanket of snow muffled her hoof falls, though she took care to step easily anyways. Solitude had heightened her other senses and she found herself more aware now than she had ever been. Finally, she was completely in the open; exposed. It felt odd, but it felt right all at the same time. She couldn’t stay hidden forever. Eventually, the cards would fall into place. Now was the time for her to start that motion.
The woman he stalks… he can tell she has been here before.
His red eyes fall upon her form and he is pleased by what he finds. To find the mother of the child that he found in the woods not too far from here. That mirror image—the sickening feel of power tossed aside for nothingness—to put in her words, a shell of their former selves. Topsail his mind said. He sees her, and feels the need to approach. A Queen who flees.
Not a Queen at all.
Those snapping jaws he sees in her head—could she still use them? Is she truly that fierce beast that is begging to be released from that body? He does not know, and it is not worth his time to seek it out from her mind. Instead he watches from the shadows, looking for the opportune moment, pressing his advantage. He prefers his solitude, and unlike this female finds that the stupidity of most of his company is beneath him. Those unlucky enough to make his notice find themselves likely at the end of death and a one way trip to hell.
He does not approach her. From his place on the bluff, he is content to watch, breathing a cold exhale, testing her quality.
a relit cigarette never tastes the same; that‘s all i‘ll preach on rekindling old flames
She does not flee. There was nothing left of her former life to flee from. The Valley wolves, proverbial crowns and power; they had all vanished in the blink of an eye. They had all been left with the nothingness (or newness, depending on ones perspective) that was Beqanna now. Cowards were the ones to flee the unknown; she had simply taken time to gain a perspective on it. Self imposed exile had simply been her chosen method for doing so.
In losing her voice, she had began to explore the depths of her other senses. Sight and sound seemed to be amplified, now that she couldn’t interfere with her own voice. The cry of the ravens (so bittersweet!), the whisper of the winds. Sight, too, felt stronger than before. It was likely a figment of her wishful imagination, but it was intriguing nonetheless. As her eyes scanned over the snow-covered landscape, something caught her eye. A dark stallion atop a ridge, one she’d not seen before though he had the air of someone who belonged. While he made no move towards her, his eyes were clearly on her. She had never been one to squirm beneath the gaze of a brutish man, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now. Raptors teeth or not, she was still forged from Valley steel and ash.
Narrowing her gaze, and stepped forward, her small hooves sinking soundlessly into the snow. It did not take her long to reach him, though she stopped before she was too close. There was an air about him that screamed danger, and while the logical part of her wanted to heed that warning, the reckless part begged for further investigation. Unfortunately, she had no voice, conventional or otherwise. Instead, she huffed, flicking her ears backwards and tossing her head, black mane flying. “Its rude to stare.” she thought to herself, and giving the winged stallion a look that matched her thoughts.
