"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
He continues to munch as Nyxa the shewolf vanishes, and is replaced by the familiar height and shape of Nyxa the horse. Her joyful whinny draws a broad smile on his face, and he shakes his head at the vicious ripping sound that follows it. That poor plant never stood a chance. He laughs with her at her food-muffled exclamation, happy that she's enjoying their day away from the stresses of reality. He was too. He'd needed this escape more than he'd realized, and with the sun on his back, good food in his belly, and his best friend at his side, the grey lad was perfectly content to just relax and forget for a while.
The warm tingle he noticed originally has spread from his mouth to his belly, a pleasant sensation, but not one he puts much thought to just yet. She's speaking again, more clearly now. "Yush it issh" he agrees through his current mouthful, swallowing noisily. With the vigor of a starving man, he reaches forward again, focused on his next bite of food. It's a surprise then, when he encounters soft warm skin instead of smooth leaves. She had mentioned a while back, that patches on her legs and face were changing, growing more like the strange creatures that live beneath the waves. Sharks, she called them. His heart gave pause as the velvet of his lips made gentle contact with the foreign-familiar shape of hers.
There is a rapid beating of wings of to the side of them. A parrot taking off from it's perch. Nyxa breathing quick and light, his own heart suddenly roaring persistent in his ears. It lasts only a moment, and then she has pulled away. He's missed something, he knows it. Some joke, or trick. He dares not speak first, afraid of what's hanging so tenuously between them. Her sorry is quiet and cautious, and she is quick to change the unspoken subject. It feels like his heart is being squeezed in his chest, painful and ecstatic at the same time. "Nyxa..." He begins, voice almost a whisper, not sure what he wants to say just yet. So he holds his tongue when she brightens again, and mentions water.
A soft chuckle echoes in his still too-tight chest. A rough shake of his head, to get rid of the sudden chaos in it, and he is smiling again. Water was Nyxa's lifeblood. No wonder she had zeroed in on the sound so easily. He knew, even though they'd never discussed it, that it was just him and perhaps a few others who kept the girl on shore at all. If it weren't for that, she'd disappear beneath the waves, only reappearing occasionally on land, like some girlish ghost. She was his sea nymph, his water sprite. And he loved her. Suddenly a dip in cold water felt like a wonderful idea.
Her drawn out pleeaassee reminds him of just how young she was. Almost two years separated their ages. While that wouldn't be a problem in, say, a decade, for now it posed a rather urgent issue. It was enough that while he was on the cusp of adulthood, she still had quite a ways to go. A deep breath is forced through his nose as he considers. The sandbar won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. Until then, things didn't need to be stressed. They could still have fun. But he needed to take some things into serious consideration after that.
"I think I hear it too. It's a ways off though, we're in for a bit of a walk. Maybe we'll find that herb after all on the way there?" He finally responded, remembering their original quest. "A swim sounds amazing, actually. It sounds like we need to go... this way." He decided after swinging his head around to pinpoint the gurgling noise that Nyxa had detected. He was now facing the opposite side of the weed covered meadow, where rocky piles and formations were rising from the earth above the treeline. He waited for the brush of her shoulder on his to indicate that they were going to start moving again with a mixture of excitement and dread. The heat continued to grow in his belly, adding to his faltering composure. The heat turns to molten liquid when she touches him again. Not the simple graze he was expecting, but her teeth in his mane, tugging like they have a thousand times before, telling him she was impatient to go.
His first step is a stumble over plain earth that he recovers from quickly, a slight scowl creasing the skin between his eyes. It was bad enough when he tripped on something actually there. Now he was falling over thin air? "Yeah, let's go find this waterfall. I need to go drown myself for a bit." He joked with a wry tone. A long exhale, and the discombobulated young stallion took his first cautious steps towards the promise of water.
.
She’d never considered the idea of belonging to anyone, or anything. Nyxa is too torn of a creature, half her soul given over to the water while the other half longed for the feel of land beneath racing paws. She’s free from the bonds of her womb - Canaan and Jah-Lilah had abandoned her and Ischia without so much as a damn goodbye (had they ever truly cared about her mother, or was the coattail ride to glory a bit bumpier than they’d prepared for?) and yet, simultaneously, she’s bonded herself to Hod and this Island. She will love and live as she pleases, the rest can be forgotten.
These ideas arise from the whim of the moment; nothing is holding the pair back from doing whatever they please and, the more Hod talks about them journeying to the other side of this small, outcast place, the warmer she begins to feel inside. It’s a pleasant sort of pressure starting right behind her eyes, a dizzying feeling that some would call a buzz but it leaves her laughing again once he mentions the word ‘herb.’ “No, silly Hod. There’s no other herds here.” The youngling laughs, unsure as to why that notion seems so funny to her when he’d clearly meant ‘herb’.
She feels … silly. Silly enough that his stumbling jerk of a start doesn’t even illicit a laugh, only solemn worry that shades her features like a quick, passing storm. “Oh don’t say that - don’t.” She tells him, the light feeling in her skull beginning to drain into her limbs. Her body and mannerisms relax, accepting the drug she’s not even aware she’d been eating, and her lithe little hooves move slowly ahead until Nyxa can press the flat of her nose back against his own. It doesn’t feel odd, this time - it feels right. “I would never let you, Hod. You don’t say things like that, okay?”
He doesn’t mean it, but she does.
“‘Kay now let’s go.” She laughs again, the brightness and perk returning to her face in a flash of amusement. For some reason everything felt so soft! The gentle curve of Hod’s nose, the warm air around them, even the brush of sticky weeds against her legs as she turns to head off in the direction he’s pointed them. Nyxa won’t deign to correct the course - his ears were twice as good as any wolf snout. For the first time in quite some time, she feels the notion of contentment settle over her shoulders. The day was beautiful and bright, Hod was here, they were going swimming … it was perfect.
She needed to get out of her own head, that’s all.
The cream filly lets it go; Hod’s age difference, the shattering of her whole family, her uncertain and rather dim-looking future. All of them just poof and quite appropriately, she replaces them with a broad, unending smile. She could walk for days like this, so she starts up their pace again and strikes out to weave between the hard-packed stalks and onto the other side of the clearing. When the earth threatens to turn rocky and it’s clear they’ll have to skirt around the base of the outcropping, she pulls ahead and waits expectantly for the familiar touch of his lips against her croup.
“Will you tell me a story about the place you were living before Beqanna?” Nyxa calls out, cutting herself off from humming a nameless tune as her feet carefully pick out the most unencumbered path. They were some of her favorite and though she had a feeling Hod sometimes withheld information (she never strays too far from safe subjects, least she upset him) in the moment it doesn't seem to matter. The fact that Hod had came from ‘elsewhere’ had always been a fascinating idea to her.
Besides, like Hod said, it would be something of journey to the falls and currently they have nothing better to do aside from enjoying each other’s ordinary company. “NO,” She thinks quite suddenly, the curve of her head over a gold-tinged shoulder helping the young girl to pinpoint and gaze at Hod with renewed affection, “The company of one I love.
12-21-2017, 08:52 PM (This post was last modified: 12-21-2017, 08:53 PM by Hod.)
Half of my heart knows just what it wants of me
She is suddenly giggling over an imagined slip of the tongue. He is happy though, that it is her high songbird tone instead of her wolfish howl. Her loves her in both forms, but horse is easier for him to understand. An uncertain grin quirks the corner of his mouth, as he tries to figure out just what is so funny?
"Feeling okay, Nyx?" He asked, bemused. Confusion is immediately replaced with regret when he hears the tone of anxiety in her next words. He had just been joking, but her words show her genuine concern nonetheless. "I know you wouldn't, dearest. I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me." He apologized, pressing his face back where he felt hers. It felt so warm, where their skin met. He enjoyed the sensation, the mingling of their forelocks while he caught the briny scent of her. It was that scent that had first drawn him to her, that frozen night, not so long ago.
Just like that, the contact is broken. An impish laugh bubbled from the water sprite, and she darted away towards the water source after one final rub against his nose. A dopey smile grows there, as the grey lad starts after her. She is bounding ahead, steps lighter than they've been in weeks. A little more cautiously, he trails after, trying to weave around the more robust plants as she does. Vaguely hungry again, he pulls a cluster of leaves from a plant as they cross the field, munching contentedly.
His head is light as a feather as they reach the edge. The earth is harder here, more treacherous. Reflexively, he reaches forward to where Nyxa stands, but missing his mark. His head was not so high after all, as he realizes that instead of her croup, his nose is currently pressed into the curve of her thigh. Moving slowly, oh the ground feels soft and squishy, he drags his nose up her thigh and rump, not daring to break contact for fear of losing her. Now, now he is back where he belongs. His soft dark nose is resting on the small of her back. "Sorry about that..." He murmured, giggling nervously.
She asks for a story. They did that sometimes, trading tales of their lives before each other. He knew he had been born outside Beqanna. It wasn't a place he'd been given a name for, all he knew was that he and his brother had traveled extensively before their journey had brought them here. But that journey had brought them many adventures. He paused to think for a moment, muzzle resting against the fluffy surface of her back. So soft, so comfy... They started walking forward at a leisurely pace, and he began his tale. "Did I ever tell you the one about the evil squirrels?" He asked, already smiling at the memory.
He startles her at first. The strange feeling of his nostrils bumping against the lower curve of her thigh causes her to jerk and the youngling laughs at the sensation. His whiskers are invasive, leaving the tingle of a playful itch to settle beneath her golden skin as he draws warm lips along the curve of her buttock. Nyxa doesn’t mind - how could she? Everything is right in the world at this moment and he didn’t mean anything by it, clearly. “You growing a beard, old man?” The filly asks after he’s laughed out an apology.
Her tail skirts aside, flicking out to bat him against the shoulder playfully. The little seamare has nothing to fear from these terrible afflictions known as “the season” - not yet, anyways. She’s too young to be of any use to elder, family-oriented stallions and hovering near the cusp of womanhood, she’s yet to experience that passage of feminine change. No one had ever explained it to her, anyways; for all she knows she’ll just be innocent and untouched forever.
Hod is the only man who's ever held her.
Ah, youth. It blossoms over her features and hints at the idea of future beauty. Hod’s gangly edges from that winter past have rounded into firm cuts of muscle that shape him well and, could he see himself, he’d know exactly how stunning he looked. Beneath the plush curtain of his mane (Nyxa’s favorite spot) he hides a warm resting place, something strong and tangible that she finds herself drowning in whenever the world around them seems too big. Silently, she hopes it never changes - that he’s never drawn away from her by the coy smile of another mare, or the promise of things she has yet to understand.
Naive as she is, Nyxa still understands that someday Hod may grow tired of waiting for her.
“Um, no. I think I would remember that one.” Nyxa laughs, careful to slope their path downhill as the rocky outcropping beside them begins to rise out of the ground. It seems like a hillside now, the rush of a stream somewhere nearby to guide her as they go. With luck, she happens to round a sharp bend and finds the makings of an animal trail for them to follow. Already the trees are beginning to grow close to one another and their journey has turned from straight-forward to a twisted maze.
She’ll take her chances on the old trail. “Did they nibble on you a bit?” The girl chirps, enjoying the rocking sensation of her angular hips beneath the soft caress of Hod’s touch.
12-26-2017, 12:19 PM (This post was last modified: 12-26-2017, 12:19 PM by Hod.)
Half of my heart knows just what it wants of me
He scoffs at her comment, and sticks his tongue out even though he knows she's not looking at him. I am not growing a beard! He thinks, indignant. "I'm not old, you're just a baby." He rebutted, no bite in his voice. The familiar groove of the girl's spine was a comforting anchor, holding him down in the dark. The dips and planes of her are still young, still childish, not yet filled out to womanly curves.
The trust she holds in him is implicit and complete, unwavering despite the chaos that seems to dog her steps. He treasures it, more than she knows. It is lucky, perhaps, that his acquaintances are so few. There is no one else to turn his head, no other sweet voice in the darkness, promising him light. There is just Nyxa, and the hope that they may remain enough for each other all their lives.
His head feels funny, like it's been filled with tufts of wool. A sense of thirst begins to nudge at him, urging him towards the water's sound. The stream they follow has been a constant guide. The path, fairly easy. The short, measured steps he has practiced so careful ensure that his longer legs do not interfere with the slighter ones before him. Until she pauses to assess their next move. He breaks easier now, but stumbles a bit nonetheless.
About to ask why they'd stopped, it becomes moot as the girl he'd follow anywhere continues walking on, though he can feel the path has changed. Twigs and brush now drag their bony fingers along his flanks, and where their way had been easy and gently curved before, now it seems the path is designed to hold as many bends and switchbacks as possible.
Through the fluff in his brain, he remembers he was supposed to be telling a story. A story... right, about the squirrels! His mind flashed back to that day. It was so soon after they'd left their home, enraged father hot on their heels. He'd been exhausted, frightened, half mad with the sudden uprooting. His knees had been scraped and bloody from constant stumbling, and all that seemed to exist anymore was his brother's voice, urging him on to safety.
" Not quite nibbled, no. I remember the scent of pines and ice. There was still snow on the ground, in places. I hate the stuff. It makes familiar places foreign, makes me lost all over again... anyway, the pines. We were walking through them trying to find food. Some of the trees were starting to produce new needles, soft enough to eat. That's what we were after. When all of the sudden, this awful noise came out of nowhere. I'd never heard anything like it, but it seemed like it was coming from everywhere at once. I could feel my brother tense up, just as confused as I was. And then a pinecone fell and hit him in the back. Okay, not so unusual. We were walking in a pine forest, right? The next one caught me in the ear, which made me shy into Bragi. It went dead silent, for just a moment. Then the terrible noise was back, louder than ever, and suddenly we were standing in a pinecone hailstorm! They were coming from all over. We had somehow managed to walk right into their squirrelly home territory, and they were telling us to get out! These vicious little buggers were throwing everything they could find at us, cones, twigs, bits of bark. It was mad. Bragi got me to hold on to a piece of his precious tail, and we ran until we couldn't hear that unholy racket anymore. At which point we stopped, had a good laugh about it, and got on with finding dinner." He finished with a laugh, remembering the absolute horror in Bragi's voice when he discovered the pinecone that had gotten twisted into his tail a week later. The fuss he put into that, you'd have thought he discovered he was fatally ill.
The greying stallion nosed back into his spot against Nyxa's spine, enjoying the walk. The birds sounded absolutely incredible right now, and he was sleepy after all this walking. How nice would it be, to just doze in the sunlight, right in the middle of his own personal mountain of clover. A contented sigh blew through his nose, ruffling the fine hairs under his muzzle. This rocking was going to put him to sleep if they didn't reach the falls soon. "Mmkay... your turn. Tell me a story Nyx." He requested drowsily.
I remember the scent of pine and ice … his story begins. The cadence of Hod’s warm voice rises and falls as they both pick their way downhill, Nyxa at the fore and enjoying the responsibility of being his eyes. Hod’s always trusted her to lead where he’d otherwise not go alone and, since Bragi’s absence, the tawny girl has taken up the mantle with nothing less than cherished responsibility.
Hod depends upon her. This is enough to make him stay and enough to keep him comfortable with an otherwise too-young companion, but Nyxa has always known this. It’s why she never thought twice about staying here, about returning to shore. The bleached stallion is her lighthouse in the storm. He never bores her (though his knack for pushing her buttons is at times unbearable) and has always been ready to offer her a distraction.
Much like this one - the phrase pinecone hailstorm causing a tickle of laughter to bubble up from her chest. By the end of his odd tale they’re both in a fit of hysterics, Nyxa managing to gasp out a, “Poor Bragi! Poor you; death by squirrel horde.” before the rupture of loud brays cuts off all sense of speech. She’d been enjoying herself so much that Nyxa hadn’t noticed the thinning of the branches, until the finesse of ancient ferns itches against her legs. “Oh! The stream is right beside us now.” She explains, “I’m betting the falls will come up quickly.”
The nymph begins to hum. She can’t help it - there’s something about the proximity of water, the way it carries sound so differently from air. The fine hairs along her spine arch in excitement, (her heart felt like it was beating so fast! Everything seemed fuzzy at the edges) Hod’s voice soon rising again to prompt her for a story in return. The ischian girl tilts a curious head over her shoulder, eyes red and glossy, to peer at Hod and she can’t suppress the smile that beams across her lips.
He was an old fart. Tired already.
“I’ll tell you the story of the first hunt, like mother told me. Stay close now, we have to slide down an incline.” Nyxa commands, the brim of her small forehooves testing the edge of a rocky, sloping hill. “Long ago, all the animals in the great kingdom were brothers and friends. We all shared and loved equally, but jealousy soon crept into the heart of one. Nyah-gwaheh, the bear god, thought himself the mightiest of all the creators people and began to enslave his fellow kin.” She hummed, pausing to fill her head with sharp images of a fire-breathing bear.
Slowly, carefully, she wound her way along the ridges of the slope. “‘Who will save us?’ cried Ama-unelanvhi, the beaver god. ‘Nyah-gwaheh’s hunger will soon devour us all, unless we stop him.’” Nyxa moaned, “Now Udawa, the great panther God, heard this and slunk forward with a dark laugh - ‘Ha ha!’ he boasted, ‘Nyah is no match for my swiftness and cunning. I will end him and in doing so, end our fear.’ the black cat promised, and soon he left to face the Kin’s enemy. But Nyah-gwaheh was ready for him and when Udawa came, the two grappled in his cave for many months; this is why the bear must sleep in the winter - he fights Udawa in his dreams, where the panther God is trapped forever.” The girl spun, ending the brief interlude by skidding to a stop near the base of the drop. She could see the waterfall now: nothing of great height but more like wide, flat slabs of stepping stones. Each one was covered in bright green moss and flowed naturally down to a wide basin - shallow enough that even from a distance Nyx could see the promise of a sandy bottom.
She began to lead them again. “‘We are lost.’ Ama-unelanvhi wept, sharing the news of Udawa’s defeat with the remaining Kin. The rest began to bitterly cry but one creature had yet to give up hope.” She murmured, the winding start of a smile bursting across her lips. “‘Dry your tears, brothers.’ Said a voice from the back. Wahya, the wolf God, stepped into the light and spoke, ‘We cannot defeat him alone, but Anihwaya (my clan) and I will find a way together.’
With a cheer the other Kin began to step forward and help. ‘Take my sense of smell’ Said brother mole, ‘And my strong teeth,’ said sister coyote, ‘And a second set of eyes, to find Nyah’s magic tracks.’ said brother Hawk, last of all. This is why the wolf has spots above his eyes, to see the prey that cannot be found.
Taking their new gifts, Anihwaya began to track Nyah-gwaheh until his smell was thick in their nostrils. Nyah had never been hunted before; he was forced to run when he’d never ran. Around and around they went, creating time itself (for the other animals measured their days by when they would see the enemies engaged in chase) until at last, they brought him down.” Nyxa exhaled, her lips parched and heavy.
The babbling of the water took over where her voice fell silent. The girl waits patiently for Hod, knowing he’ll decide how and where he’ll want to enter, and when he’s situated she sighs again. “A wolf needs a pack, or so Circinae used to say.” She scoffs, winded and feeling very much like Hod had been earlier - drowsy. “I’m glad we’re each other’s pack.”
Every kiss is a door, Can I knock on yours?
@[Hod] I'm not sure how long you're wanting this adventure to go on for but feel free to wind it down whenever you'd like I know the timeline is moving way past this xD
The story that poured from the girl's throat was a new one to him. It was very clearly a wolf's tale, wild and ancient. Strange names flowed through the air, as she spoke of teamwork and cunning, acts of archaic bravery. It was a tale of that primordial war between good and evil. Nyxa was a wonderful story teller, and he could feel her excitement as the tale unfolded. He could see her running with those Elder wolves, fast enough to take down a bear boar, fast enough to create time itself. If anyone could do it, it was Nyxa.
As the babble of water began to grow louder, the faded stallion increased his pace until he was walking shoulder to shoulder with the bright girl. He growled playfully into her ear, hot breath filling the hollow of her jawline, before replacing it with the lightest of kisses.
"We are a pack, and I'd give my life for you. But perhaps today I want to be a bear. Run, run, little wolf, you can't catch me!"
Powerful limbs sprang into action, they were close enough now, that he felt confident. Sand and grit flew from his feet as he ran the last few meters to the waters' edge, laughing racously. They had arrived at the waterfall. Sleepiness paled as his energy spiked. Suddenly he wanted to run for miles, to jump a mountain, to... to... He didn't know. He reared back, thrashing the air over the edge of the pool, his wordless bugle of joy echoing off the surrounding rocks. Crashing back to the earth with a prancing splash, he turned to the sea filly. Giggles bubbled from his chest, he kicked at the water, enjoying the coolness of it on his heated skin. "Well? What are you waiting for Nyx? The water's great!"
It was wonderful, to spend the afternoon together on their own private island. They swam for hours. At one point, Nyxa decided to dive and explore the bottom of the pool, and he took the opportunity to track the scent he had found the first time around. It had struck him when the wind shifted, closer than he expected. Bayleaf. A broad grin grew on his pale face as he delicately removed a branch from the fragrant bush. Peppery and warm, the scent filled him. Carrying his prize back to the waterfall, he laid it on the sand just as Nyxa resurfaced, infinitely pleased with himself.
Heat began to fade, and the grey knew the sun was fading with it. With a deep exhale, Hod dropped to the ground, rolling in the still-warm sand. Coming to a rest on his side, he turned to wear he could hear the gentle splashes of the water mare. She would spend as long as possible there, but there'd come a time when she was ready to be on shore again. He would be there when she was, always.
Evening had come, as it always did. It had become habit by now for them to sleep together, sharing warmth on the occasionally cool nights. Horses and wolves both depend on family and community. It was no different for the two of them. Fitted into each other like matching shells, Hod groomed the ever salty cords of Nyxa's mane. He could not see her, but he knew the shape of her. Knew the texture of her hair, the scent of her skin. The way she cloaked herself in water like a second pelt. He loved every inch of her. The hazy giddiness the plants had imbued them with had ebbed away, leaving the truth in its wake.
"You're my world, Nyxa. I love you more than life and air." He whispered once her breathing had slowed into sleep, trailing featherlight kisses down her crest. In the morning, he would tell her he needed some time. Time to sort things out. Tonight, he relished the feeling of being so close with someone who meant so much to him. Drifting off to sleep himself, he swore, no matter what the future held, he would remember tonight.
@[Nyxa] This can be the closing post, or you can write a response to be the closing post. <3
The whisper of a growl Hod breathes into her ear locks her knees into place. Nyxa trembles, but not from fear. Her head is still a bit fuzzy around the edges so she’s quick to use that as an excuse; all the same she can’t deny what he so obviously does to her, without even trying.
A swift kiss settles her unruly emotions, the laughable taunt that he’s become the ‘bear’ and she the ‘wolf’ enough to spark her own playful response. “Just wait until I do, you smelly honey-hunter!” The filly squeals, quick to dart after his retreating form as they dance and weave along the short, sandy bank. Her mouth reaches out for him without any intention of actually touching, the faint snap snap of her teeth clicking together on open air enough to mimic the habits of a predator chasing her prey.
He wheels, rocks back onto white-splashed legs, and rises to beat a tattoo against the sky while she watches with appreciative, adoring eyes. Hod lands and his proximity is close enough that the action leaves her speckled with water; the coolness against her legs is as close to orgasmic as anything she can fathom. He won’t have to prod or push, though his invitation to join is met with her initial hesitation. Nyxa knows that once she sumberges, she’ll lose herself to the water’s embrace.
But Hod is urging, and Nyxa is more than willing.
--
They lose themselves to each other, forgetting that an outside world exists. Ischia, in this moment, has become her paradise. Eventually she does succumb to the depths, her curiosity overwhelming her need to ensure Hod’s comfort. The water filly stays there for a bit longer than she intended, (So many creatures hidden beneath the sunken stones!) and she surfaces once more to the sight of him presenting her a gift.
Bayleaf.
It means nothing and yet everything to her all at once. They spend the late hours drying stiff coats and she hardly protests sinking into the sand beside him once her newfound pool has been explored to its fullest extent. The affectionate tug of his teeth against her knotted mane serves to rock the girl into quiet peace. “We’re not pack.” She thinks sleepily, regardless of what she’d said earlier. This island - her heart - they have no room and no need for a wolf any longer. Instead, she thinks, “He’s the clam and I’m the pearl, we’re two angelfish. We belong together.”
And perhaps, somewhere deep down, the Island hears this declaration as she drifts to sleep beside him.
I know the timeline is moving way past this xD