"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
"I've been falling through the dream-mine and I'm hoping at the bottom
All the mountains of coins I've thrown will bought the wish I've cast them for.“
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She is nothing. For years she had disappeared from every eye that could possibly see her, and still she knows there was not a single soul to notice. There are some where their absence leaves a hole, where even strangers realize that something is amiss – that a magician has not been around for some time, that the mare with goddess-like beauty hadn’t been seen in ages, or a name that could be whispered and everyone around would nod their heads in recognition. She was not one of those girls. Where they were the flowers that decorated the meadow and captured attention, she was merely the grass surrounding them. And so she doesn’t even know what brings her back to this place. Nothing else seemed to feel like home, even though this place certainly never did.
The forest was bright with the colors of autumn, a beautiful spectrum of crimson and burnt orange, golds and crisp brown. How odd, that the forest was at its utmost splendor when it was dying. She walks beneath the branches, listening to the rhythmic sound of her footfalls as the land on top of the bed of leaves that litter the ground. She hadn’t been back here in years, and as the familiar smells began to reach her, she could feel her chest start to tighten. She missed her mother, the terribly shy mare that somehow managed to lure everyone to her when she didn’t dare leave the shadows. She missed who she thought her father was, the man that had been so caring and attentive when she was born, before completely shunning them to start his new royal family. Never will she forget the coldness in his eyes as he had flatly told her that she was not his daughter anymore.
A sigh steals across her lips, the confusion and sorrow rattling against the inside of her ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. Vespara was actually quite pretty, although considerably plain by Beqanna standards. She had no flashy traits, nothing that was even remotely unique about her. But her coat was a brilliant gold, with long threads of a stark white mane that cascaded past the gentle curve of her chest. Her mother had passed on delicate and refined features, with rich brown eyes that stared at the world with a certain longing. Nothing could fill the emptiness that she felt, and sometimes she was sure that if you cut her open she would be nothing but skin and skeleton – and of course that fragile heart that refused to stop beating, a bird with a broken wing, struggling and pathetic and just needing someone to come along and put it out of its misery.
It was hard not to stand out. Unique features of blood and snow. Infamous deeds that no matter when and where he faded or picked back up again, he was always noticed. Remembered regardless if they wanted to. The slave pens (flesh pinned against cold metal bars, the rattle of chains). The unsuspecting lab rats (Cellar’s poisoned barbs killing that man at his behest, how could he not have her then despite the threat of death). The cool fog of the mountains hiding his most prized possessions (the jaded and broken, his pretty dolls, his playthings). There was just so many to pick from. The best, however, had yet to come.
She reminds him of Minette, the first to truly fall at his hand. She had been so innocent, the spark of youth bright in her eyes. He had shattered her, lulled her into false security, then shattered her again. He misses the way he had played seduction, had actually made her start to feel something for him. Made her believe that maybe he was worthy of love and more importantly, she was too. Wrong. Stupid cow. Magnus had taken her when he had grown bored, had taken something else that didn’t belong to him either. But no matter. He will take it back when he wants it. Just like he will with this one.
What had Straia always said? Something about him and his broken toys. He liked them fractured, missing parts. Made them easier to manipulate, to bend to his will. He likes them handsome but plain, less likely to be missed. Though pretty and royal were always fun too, Fiasko thought herself a Queen until he reminded her that she was just like everyone else. She wasn’t untouchable. Nobody was.
He can always sense the torn threads of the battered. The lines that are woven into the grooves around her eyes. The distant look, the weary way they hold themselves. She’s hurting some how and he decides to find out the source and use it to his advantage. ”Excuse me.” Polite smooth words as he slowly approaches, wings of angels beginning to fold in at his pale sides. Crimson eyes gazing with puzzlement as his features collect into something of polite concern. ”Are you alright? You shouldn’t be out here by yourself. Predators have been lurking nearby.” His lips pull back into a small smile as he closes the distance between them, extending a soft silver muzzle to hers in greeting. Come child, meet the wolf.
"I've been falling through the dream-mine and I'm hoping at the bottom
All the mountains of coins I've thrown will bought the wish I've cast them for.“
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He startles her, the stark white stallion seeming to appear out of nowhere. Silently she chastises herself for letting her guard down, for usually she was not so foolish and unaware of her surroundings. With cautious eyes she watches him, taking in the wings that fold at his sides, and the vibrant red eyes that were an exquisite contrast against his pale colored face. The smile that slowly spread seemed amicable enough, but Vespara had learned long ago that anyone could smile. It was merely muscles moving your lips. She smiled all the time and never felt a thing. Her weight shifts back onto her haunches, her muscles pulled taut beneath her sun-colored coat, with all the tension of a deer that was prepared to flee. ”I’m fine,” and while her voice was soft and lilting, the way the words are spoken is abrupt.
She watches as he stretches his muzzle towards her, and she stares at him in confusion. There is a large part of her that wants to follow her instinct and let the shadows swallow her back up. But there is another part of her, the naïve and hopeful side, that wants to return the gesture. And so ever so carefully her neck begins to stretch, remaining solidly rooted but letting the satin-soft skin of her muzzle just barely brush against his. She feels his breath mingle with hers and immediately she recoils, her heart hammering in her chest. It had been years since someone was this close to her, and every awful scenario played in her head. ”What do you want?” As much as she tries to control it she cannot hide the quiver in her voice, her liquid-brown eyes staring at his ruby-colored ones with a mingling of confusion and apprehension. Everyone had an agenda, but she didn’t know what his was.
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V E S P A R A don't fail me, you're all I know buonarroti x elentári
Oh, a challenge. It’s been awhile since he’s had one of those. Guarded eyes and cautious words. Broken but not completely stupid. He will have to change tactics, pull out those actor chops. Dusting off the rust, he arranged his facial features to appear confused and somewhat hurt. He receives her touch, soft plush of her muzzle barely brushing against his own, then pulls back towards his chest the moment she recoils. His smile fades slightly as he lowers his head a bit, ever the image of appeasement and vulnerability. ”My apologies, I’ve startled you. That was not my intention.”
What does he want? Such a loaded question. He wants so many things. For his beautiful sadistic plans to come to fruition. To pluck her eyes from her head and examine the gray matter of her brain, to understand if perhaps the secrets to her cautious behavior may be discovered there. To use her, abuse her in every and any way he could. Of course that’s not what he says aloud. ”I just thought you might want some company. You looked a bit lonely…”
Almost on cue, a low howl sounds off in the distance and he grimaces slightly, casting her a pained look. ”But that was rude of me to assume and intrude.” He shifts slightly as he turns away a bit, as if torn on leaving despite having no intentions of going anywhere without her. ”I’m sure whoever you’re waiting for will be here soon enough.” He adds half heartedly with a small shrug of a pale shoulder. The small suggestion that hopefully it would not be too late.
"I've been falling through the dream-mine and I'm hoping at the bottom
All the mountains of coins I've thrown will bought the wish I've cast them for.“
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He pulls back in response to her own sudden movement, lowering his head in an act of passiveness. He seemed sincere, but Vespara was ever the skeptic. When your own father had been a wolf in sheep’s clothing it made you leery of everyone. But his apology sounded genuine, and she can feel heat rising to her cheeks. She knew that she was often quick to assume the worst in everyone, and sometimes it got the best of her. As much as she did not always like to own up to her mistakes, this wouldn’t be the first or last time that she had been abrupt with a stranger that truly meant no harm. ”I’m sorry,” she says softly, her own delicate head dropping just slightly. ”You just surprised me.”
The muscles that had once been spring-tight beneath her golden coat slowly began to uncoil, even though her eyes continued to watch him guardedly. ”My name is Vespara. And just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely.” A slow simper pulls at the corner of her honey-colored lips, tilting her head towards him knowingly. Vespara had always been on her own. Being alone was nothing new to her. Her mother had been caring but unreliable. Elentári was the type that struggled to take care of herself and her own emotions, much less those of her children.
The sound of the wolf howl rising in to air, and even though it wasn’t the first time she had heard such a sound she felt her blood run cold and her hair begin to prickle. She notices then that he has turned to leave, and again the war inside of her starts up. She was not as helpless as she seemed. She had survived in the wilderness on her own for years, and she had the scars to prove it. But the call had sounded close, and she also wasn’t stupid. It was natural instinct to want to be with a herd, or at the very least another horse, especially when danger was nearby. ”I’m not waiting for anyone,” the words come quickly from her mouth, glancing back towards the sound of the predator and then back to the white stallion. There is a request on the tip of her tongue, the wanting to ask him to stay, or to let her go with him, but for some reason she can’t seem to bring herself to say it. But she takes a step in his direction, the only sign that she will give that she doesn’t want him to go.
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V E S P A R A don't fail me, you're all I know buonarroti x elentári
She is still guarded, wary of him. He can’t blame her, she must have experienced the likes of him before. However she softens just slightly, offering an apology for her actions. ”That’s quite alright. I deserved it.” He murmurs with a soft smile, red eyes sparkling slightly as he watches her. Her body relaxes, muscles releasing and he allows his own to do the same. Put her at ease, lull her slowly but surely. Her eyes still watch him closely, her jaw still tense with uncertainty. He’s not close to making her drop her safety net, he still has work to do.
She speaks of not being lonely and he dips his muzzle slightly in understanding. ”Foolish of me to assume.” Meeting her with a slight tug of his own lips, a slight glint of humor. ”It doesn’t hurt though to have some company. Spending too much time alone isn’t good for the soul.” Another howl breaks through the trees. He notices the quiver of her shoulder, stalwart but inside he thinks she might start to feel somewhat nervous. The wolves don’t bother him, he is as much a predator as they are.
The howl is perfectly timed, he pauses in his retreat as she calls out to him. Without realizing it, she’s given him all he needed to know. She is alone, truly alone. Nobody waiting for her, nobody to miss her if she was gone. There’s a need in the tone of her words and he bows his head slightly as he moves closer to her. Meeting her step and closing the distance between them. His pale body grazes slightly against her own but he does not meet her eyes as he comes to stand beside her. Instead his crimson gaze roves the woods around them, ears pricked forward. Tense and alert.
”Best to wait it out Vespara…” He murmurs to her quietly peering beneath the stained tangle of white that is his forelock. Glancing at her with an encouraging smile. He gives her a fake name, for he’s unsure if anyone knows of his return. If they might remember him. Better to be safe. ”I’m Fen.” A pause as they settle into their watch. ”Where do you come from?” He finally asks then quickly follows with the slight air of apology. ”if you don’t mind me asking?” He will prod her past, sift through her secrets. Somewhere among it all will lay her weakness and the power to trap her.
