"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
They say one might get lost in the forest and lose their way. It’s not surprising when the tress eventually spit her back out and she’s forced to start anew again. How many times has she done this? The land they lived, fought, breathed, and loved for was such a cruel mistress. Constantly giving and taking but this time it had taken too much. It hadn’t taken long to discover that the land was different now. That her beloved jungle was gone. Some version of it remained but it would never be the same, would never be her jungle again. It’s like a breath of fresh air. No longer chained to a bruising memory, no more regrets. They slide off her back like water, for the first time she truly feels her future might be bright. This world was full of possibilities and her failures could be left in their graves where they belonged.
A few familiar places still stand, only slightly moved about. She goes where they all go to find a new start. Tall stalks of amber that tickles at her undercarriage as she prowls into the open space. Golden eyes narrow and flicker, his jaguar spotted body moving quietly, barely rustling the grass. The air is cool and she inhales deeply, curved lobes swiveling forward as she takes it all in. Ebony wings are tucked tightly to her side but there is a thin smile playing on her lips. The first time she has smiled in so long. Her pain is not truly gone, she doubts that the hole in her heart will ever truly heal. But it’s the first time she’s felt hope and that…. That is something.
It is not often she stirs herself to make her way to the field. Not when a quick peek is all she needs to determine what it is that awaits her there. So often there is nothing of great interest, no one she cares to acquaint herself with.
There are always new faces here, but today there is one that draws her attention. One that holds a certain amount of familiarity. It is an old face, and interesting one. A face, and a mind, that could offer her a great deal.
In no time at all the slender blue and white mare is making her way through through forest and grass, an unerring path along a familiar road. She is not a striking creature. With her narrow frame and unexceptional dark roan and snow laced coloring, there is nothing truly stunning about her at first glance. No, one does not become arrested until one looks deeper, until one gazes into the crystalline blue of her gaze and discovers the depths that lie there. The hidden power in an unassuming form.
She does not shout out what she is. But then, she has always found it is better to be underestimated. And she knows, perhaps more than most, not to underestimate the spotted bay with the dark wings either. It’s why she had chosen to approach her, of all the creatures currently loitering in the field.
She steps near, pale blue gaze intense as it scans the surrounding landscape before landing upon her new companion. “You are a long way from home,” she finally says by way of greeting before settling in as though she belongs.
i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts
In a different world or perhaps a different time, the dip dyed mare would have a kinship with the Amazonian mare. If she knew who her mother was and hadn't been left for dead, perhaps she would have this nagging feeling rustling in her chest to belong to them; the sisters. The fact is that she didn't, all she had rumbling in her chest was anguish and self-loathing. Soon, it would end she knows but the pill is no small feat at the present.
The field has been vibrant with those who are lost, not because they don't belong but because the places they've belonged to no longer exist. She, too, had only recently been one of them but the once-Chamber mare was too proud to visit here and in this moment; she wishes she had the gall others did. A flame can only burn so long at such a fiery pace, regardless of immortality. She is either too slow or too indifferent to care to have the quickdraw reflexes. They say the early bird gets the worm, Kimber would say whoever pecks the original birds eyes out gets it. Choose the adage you like best! Kimber feels so plain, despite her black to azuli coloring and smartass mouth - she can't blow anyone to smithereens, turn them to toads, etc. She knows that magic wasn't gifted to her because she would abuse it, she would break down the particles of those who slighted her in the mildest degree.
"Quite frankly, I'm glad to see the place go - nothing good came from the jungle, especially with the resident magician you kept," she scours, gritting her teeth at the thought of the old Amazonian mare - she would die trying to kill her if she ever saw her again. She would do anything to watch the magician burn and dance in the ashes left behind. "I never forget a face - you were on the battlefield in the Chamber. I can't really say whether I can offer you a home, ultimately that's up to you but I can offer you a purpose and training or a good ass-whoopin' if that's your thing," she says, a wry grin growing on her face - what a diplomat! "Kimber. Tephra."
Round of applause! Best recruitment specialist to walk this earth.
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings.
The heat of the island had become stifling (even for him, made of fire, end to end), and he has grown restless. Beneath the quiet of morning, before the bright and unyielding sun has emerged from beyond the distant horizon, he immerses himself into the sea. It is frigid and unkind, but its icy caress is soothing to the scalding heat of his skin, as each wave gently laps at the puckered, pink scarring littered across the darkness of his flank. His strong and powerful legs carry him to the shore, as the salty brine of the ocean trickles off him in thick rivulets – steam rising from the surface as the warmth inside of him stirs the water to a simmering boil.
He is slow and deliberate; the thick and heavy muscle beneath rippling with each sweeping, purposeful stride forward. The humidity wanes, and a soothing breeze touches his shoulder, tangling itself within the thick, tangled mane that lay haphazardly across his broad neck. The pale sunlight bathes him in its resplendent light, dipping into the crevices and creases where old scarring and curved muscle and bone lie. Along the slope of his spine, a trail of fire is lit, flickering low and tracing the length of his vertebrae – not phased by the gale of wind pressing urgently against him, as late autumn falters beneath the cruel, unforgiving hand of winter.
Winter. His heart pines for the frigidity of the tundra he had come to know as his own; for the brotherhood (and eventually, sisterhood) that had been his empire. He has become one with the volcanic isle, in every sense of the word (fire and brimstone burned within him, just as it poured from the caldera to the north of the shore), but there is and always would be a part of him that would long for days long gone, for the ice and the snow – for what had become only a memory.
His reverie does not last long, however, as the burning ember of his gaze becomes settled on a familiar shadow of indigo and obsidian. Curious, his eyes change – narrowing; his vision instantaneously improving to an impossible degree, flickering from the changing, shifting expression of each (Kimber, with as wry smile – Heartfire, unknown to him, but dark and calculating, and Tantalize, with a shadow of a smile hidden within the corner of her dark mouth). Humming softly to himself in thought, he does not turn away, as he might have – instead, he is drawn closer, the shadow of his behemoth form reflecting onto the dying, fading foliage that lay across the ground, long before the warmth of his presence can be felt.
A brief glance is given to Kimber, and a nod of acknowledgement (she is a humorous one, but a force to be reckoned with – he had seen her fight; he had watched her triumph), before his searing eyes are tracing the darkness lingering within the piercing blue of Heartfire’s own gaze – he is quiet, contemplative. The scent of the sea lingers on her skin – Nerine? Certainly not Ischia; she is a far cry from the incestuous bloodline that had taken the helm of the northern island. At last, his dark gaze is searching the speckled spotting along round, yet heavily muscled curves – a rich, deep bay, with dark and dangerous eyes.
The jungle.
”An Amazonian, then?” he muses softly, as the corner of his mouth is drawn up in the faintest simper.
”Unfortunately, the jungle fell alongside the tundra – we are both out of our element, it would seem. I am Offspring – the King of Tephra,” a pause. ”and we have much to offer, should you be seeking purpose.”
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.
It’s not a long wait before they come. Her amber gaze shows a lack of surprise. She had always been able to draw attention of the eye with her jaguar spots and defined features. In this new world, she assumes many had been lost and they are rebuilding. They must be eager for new faces, for bodies to fill these kingdoms.
The first is whispy but beautiful. Her body reminds her of the Tundra, all icy blues and whites swirling into each other much like the ice storms that use to frequently ravage the old bachelor lands. She thinks of herself as plain, Liz disagrees. The stranger’s best features are the endless depths of cobalt that make up the color of her eyes. Like an endless sea, they seem to captivate and swallow one in.
Her golden iris’s hold firm on Heartfire as she is greeted with almost familiarity. Her face is not one she recognizes, she still remembers much…Too much. A soft breeze ruffles dark feathers as she offers her terse smile in response. ”A home that no longer exists.” It was better to be blunt, they both know why she is here. Another mare seems to appear at the other’s shoulder, one that has no love lost for the jungle. Slightly irritated, her wings uncurl slightly and ruffle to dispel the feeling. There was no point getting upset. The land was gone, the sister’s dispersed. Everything she had created, her one mark she had left on the jungle.. Khaleesi’s and Bloodriders… Her legacy was gone. There was no use crying over spilt milk now. No use getting riled up over people she no longer knew or cared about.
”I came from the jungle… So I suppose I’m worthless in your eyes then?” She finally manages to retort, her jaw tense but there is a hint of amusement in the depths of amber. She holds no grudges, not with them. Not yet at least. The Chamber battle? She supposes it had happened, would not be surprised by the incident. She doesn't remember it but that’s not important now. At least she had not been completely forgotten in her absence. ”I’m not quite sure what my thing is anymore Kimber but…”
Her voice fades, words trailing off as a set of bright red eyes and a dark body fill her vision. For a moment her heart flutters in unexpected anticipation, her throat dries. A quick glance at him makes him look somewhat like her father. But it’s not him. His coat is darker, the color of the night sky. The eyes though, so strangely familiar. She is uncertain for a moment and it shows in her stillness, her quiet thorough search of him. His body carries scars, pink slashes that separate dark flesh. He is the epitome of a warrior, a handsome ruthless creature. He carries himself much like Cross had. It’s eerie but not unwelcome.
Her gaze has lingered far too long on him, the silence becoming stretched and awkward. She unabashedly doesn't apologize. Instead she merely offers that small tug of a dark smile on sooted lips. Answering his inquiry. ”So I have gathered.” Yes the jungle had fallen, everyone seemed almost eager to press this information on her. Perhaps they were looking for some sort of grief. They would find none, she had shed her tears long ago.
”Offspring….” She quietly sounds out his name, mulls over the taste of it in her mouth. ”A pleasure.” She finally manages, coming to a conclusion that she had never heard of him before but it was still possible they were related. Her father had never been quiet about his unfaithfulness. ”Tantalize, for those that don’t know.” Looking for a moment at Kimber before continuing. ”So what do you think you can offer me?” If they wanted her, they would have to work for it. It’s not every day a fallen queen, one that had started wars and left them to fester, just fell into your lap in the field. She knows this, she’s aware of her worth.
Of course she would not be alone in her approach of the Amazonian queen of old. Even if they cannot see what she can, the history and knowledge that emanates from this woman is almost palpable in its extent and presence. Only a fool would fail to notice such a thing. And, with a single glance at the two faces of the horses who had joined them, she cannot take them for fools. That she knows them (perhaps not personally, but far better than they would likely be comfortable with) only adds weight to her conclusions.
A faint smile tugs at her lips as she briefly considers the blue and black mare with mild interest. Kimber might never forget a face, but she had overlooked Heartfire’s easily enough. Of course, they had only ever met in passing, enemies on a battlefield fighting for kingdoms long since vanquished. But time has a way of making them forget old grudges. She, of all creatures, would know. There is so much this world has forgotten.
And then there is the scarred king with fire licking his skin. An interesting man if ever there was one. She would love more time to pick his brain as well, but she had come today with a purpose, and she can be a rather single-minded woman.
The blue and black woman is quick to disparage the Amazons, an act that draws a mildly sardonic glance from Heartfire, though she says nothing to her. Instead she focuses her response on Tantalize. Though she likely does not realize it (it is hard to see the family resemblance given her grandmother’s rather… unique appearance), but they have far more in the way of common history than might first meet the eye. “The land might have disappeared perhaps, but the sisterhood has not. It has merely.... evolved.”
But that is, only in a small sense, why she is here. Shifting, Heartfire offers the jaguar woman an appraising glance before continuing, “I am Heartfire, by the way.”
She listens with vague interest as Offspring says his piece, cutting directly to the meat of things. An action she can appreciate. She rarely has much desire to beat around the bush. But, while she cannot deny it would be beneficial should the former queen return to Nerine with her, she cannot quite say that is her primary reason for being here. Tilting her head slightly, the corners of her lips quirking into a faint grin, Heartfire turns the conversation. “Ah, well, you see, it’s not so much what I can offer you but what you can offer me.” With a rather feline glint to her blue eyes, she continues. “I’m sure you are perfectly aware just how often there is so little… variation in these things. To be quite frank, any one of us here can offer you much the same, though if it is power you seek, Nerine does have that in spades.”
Settling into a more comfortable position, she eyes Tantalize with open curiosity. “No, I am far more interested in what you could bring to the table. Or rather, the knowledge you posses. And so is Nerine.”
i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings.
Sweat begins to bead heavily along his marred skin, pooling along the slope of his broad spine and giving him little reprieve from the harsh light of the unforgiving sun, and the heat of the fire burning from within. A mass of bone and sinewy muscle, he is a force to be reckoned with, but the heavy humidity of day weighs on him with a might all its own. His matted tresses press tightly against his massive, thick neck, while the darkened shadow of his burning gaze is steadied upon what lay before him – and the intricate dappling of spots that trace the feminine slope of her spine and the thick curve of her hip.
His puckered pink scars gleam gently beneath his trickling sweat, and his tendons shift and roll beneath his dreary, obsidian flesh – he is quiet, listening carefully to the other speak in what can only be described as a riddle. He is feigning indifference, but he is observant, glancing over the way her jawline clenches with each deliberate word; she has many weaknesses and the most prevalent is her ego.
She is far too consumed with herself, with what she and Nerine could supposedly offer the once Queen – she is dismissive, sardonic, and scathing, and he knew enough to know that it was simply her way. He would not fault her for it, but he could hardly suppress the smile tugging at the corner of his dark mouth. He could see the many flaws of Nerine already, between Nayl’s foul, unrestrained temper, and Heartfire’s dry, manipulative personality.
Alas, he has grown bored with her attempt to draw her in, to force her to peddle herself into her waiting hands. He knew the heavy burden of leadership well enough to see where it had carved deep, hollowed shadows beneath Tantalize’s vivid eyes – just as it had his own, and he does not take his eyes off her. Not even for a moment. He knew the burden, just as he knew the immeasurable strength it took to carry the hefty crown of thorns. She did not need to market herself for him.
He is silent, with his heavy, burning stare boring into her own, tracing the darkened irises, searching their depth for tangible meaning – there was a fleeting moment of recognition in her gaze, and he can only assume his presence was as if she were seeing a small part of her past. A ghost, perhaps. He held no genetic binding to any other, however, outside of those conceived from his loin – he had only been a boy when his spiteful mother had left him to die along the eastern shoreline of what had once been, and he had spent too many years - decades, even – he held no relation to her, though she could not possibly know that.
”I haven’t the time to play games. Nerine will offer you much of the same that it always has – it is as it has always been, whether in a jungle or along the coast. If you should seek the lifestyle of a sisterhood, it might be for you,” his voice his rough along the edges; husky from disuse. ”but if you are seeking more, we - and Tephra - has much to offer. I have much to offer." he muses softly, his eyes flashing with a glimmer of the flame that burned from within.
”And I know that you have much to offer. I do not need for you to plead your case. Power, accessibility – it could all be yours – should you want it. And if not," he pauses then, a shadow of a smile returning. "you know where to find me.”
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.
It’s a strange feeling, trying to sort out her future. It had always been so clear before. Years before she had been a ruler of the jungle, she had been just another vagabond that had called the open grassy plains of the Meadow her home. It had been enough when she had Slaide by herself. When he had set her aside for another, abandoned her and their child, had died for that bitch… Something in her had shifted. She had craved a release, a distraction. Look where that had taken her.
Now? Now she’s not sure what she exactly craves. The sisterhood lives on, different, but still exists. Was that what she really wanted? It was a different land, different ranking she assumes, a different sisterhood. But still Amazonian in nature. She is torn for she had set out for something new, would this Nerine really be that much of a change? She is silent as she listens to Heartfire but there’s a soft tug at the end of her lips, it hints at amusement. It seems the sisterhood still collected women of spunk and while some may be offended by the “offer” presented, she knows better. Of course she has much to offer in her knowledge, her experience. Heartfire plays to her strengths and a slight dip of her muzzle acknowledges that she understands. The only thing that she’s still unsure about is what exactly would she seek in Nerine… What would she seek anywhere? She’s no longer certain of power, of titles, of purpose.
A soft wind carries lightly across the dark feathers that curl at her sides, playing amongst them so they brush lightly against one another. Offspring is much more curt and her golden eyes narrow as he speaks of games. For a moment she mistakes his snippiness, thinks it’s directed at her. Quickly she realizes it’s directed at the sister before her and she relaxes once more. He is all fire and brimstone (had she not been the same way once when pressed against the boy of granite and ice?) and for a moment her mind flickers on what it would be like to ignite with one just as fierce as she.
I have much to offer. The words linger in the air and she is unable to keep the smile that faintly ghosts across dark lips, the flash in the depths of amber. She raises her skull to look up at him directly, muscle rippling beneath dappled spots as her neck stretches and contorts. It would be fair to assume that the scarred king was use to intimidating others. She can imagine the way he rules, a heavy hand but fair. Privately she thinks he is more like Cross then just merely the shared crimson of their eyes. She knows this type, knows this breed of man quite well. He will find she is not one to quickly be swept away with a few brooding glances and quick wit. She is nothing soft, all hard edges with a guarded heart.
She meets his gaze before finally responding as smooth as silk. ”I suppose you do Offspring, King of Tephra.” Another pause as she regards them both. Two attractive offers but she is still unsure of what path to take. She understood the sisters, no matter where they were located. The jungle thrummed in her blood and even if the twisted land of vines and tropics was no more… The Amazons lived forever more in the hearts of it’s people.
Then there’s this enigma of Offspring, all mystery and secrets within the puckered skin of his scars and glowing red orbs. She sees the way his mane is damp and pressed against his thin fur, the humidity and warmth of the volcano would be familiar. Most of all he has piqued her interest, she would like to know more of him.
”The only way to decide is to take a trip it seems.” She gives a small shrug, she won’t know where she belongs until she’s experienced these places for herself. ”I’d like to see Nerine, see what the sisterhood has become.” Glancing between the two for a moment, making it clear Nerine will come first and she will follow the mare’s lead. ”As for you Offspring..” And here she let’s the fierceness of her gaze smolder into the depths of his bloodred eyes and for a moment she feels the old flicker of fire sputter to life inside her gut. An old memory tries to press into her mind but she ignores it, pushes it back and the flicker quickly dies out. ”Expect to see me soon.”
From the moment she had seen him, Heartfire had had Offspring pegged. It’s too easy, sometimes. His history intrigues her, the lifetimes he has seen, but she knows they could never be friends. He might choose to believe they are far too different for such things, but she knows better. No, they are far too similar for such things. Perhaps he does not manipulate things to his advantage on purpose, but anyone with eyes could see that, even unknowingly, he does. She is simply far more honest with herself. And if he wished to believe it ego, she certainly couldn’t stop him. She is used to being underestimated, and frankly, she prefers it that way.
It’s so very convenient sometimes.
Indeed, the world seems to forget so easily, but she had been queen once too. For a lifetime, in a distant land. She knows the weight those titles carry, the joy and heartbreak, the hard, unforgiving responsibility. The crown had shaped her into what she is today, made her into this creature. She had been so young when first it had been placed upon her head, and though a lifetime passed, it is almost as though no time at all truly had. Not for this body, at least. In this body, she is young, carrying the weight only a lifetime of memories can give. Dichotomous and unusual. It is no wonder she had turned into the woman that now stands before them. She had had little choice in the matter.
Not that they would know that. Nor does she have any intention of telling them. It is a story for another time, another place.
Still, the words Offspring spits, just as dismissive, sardonic, and scathing as he would like to believe her, bring a faint smile to her lips. It seems she had touched a nerve. After all, it does rather sound like sour grapes to her. But she lets it pass without comment. Tantalize is her own woman, and Heartfire does not doubt the spotted woman would easily see through the both of them. Her own words had not been especially cryptic after all. Indeed, she would say they are rather straightforward and honest. For a woman like Tantalize, she cannot see that traditional flattery would get her terribly far. And based upon the nod of acknowledgement, her words had hit the mark. Perhaps not traditional, but a flattery she had understood nonetheless.
As Tantalize responds to both of their offers, Heartfire returns the acknowledgement with a dip of her own head. She could fully understand needing to see for herself. After all, she had done the same, once upon a time, when she had been at the opposite end of this conversation (ironic then, that she too had been offered the same choice: Tephra or Nerine. It is clear which she had eventually chosen). “Certainly,” she responds easily, a faint quirk to her lips. “I’d be glad to show you what the new sisterhood has wrought, especially if it will give me the opportunity to further pick your brain.” A hint of humor glints in her blue eye at the last before she turns to lead the way to her home. With a glance over her shoulder and a tipped brow at Offspring, she bids him farewell. “It was… interesting meeting you, Offspring.”
i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts
