"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'm the king of nothing at all
you're my queen of nothing at all
You should have come in another season, Darrow, where you could rise up over the horizon like a fiery sun, or a riderless herald of the apocalypse descending into a world in the midst of decline. Instead you came in spring, where in a green world you attracted bees who mistook you for a flower and buzzed around your body, an aerial armada of bumbles.
In spite all the buzzing of curious bees Darrow cut a striking figure in the morning light. A distinct red color saturated every inch of his person, only his eyes were a chestnut brown ringed in gold. As he moved out of the trees and onto the shore his escort of insects dispersed, buffeted away by the wind that pushed inland off the water. He grazed on salt grasses as the sun rose higher in the sky. When at last he raised his head, the capricious wind brought him the scent of strangers from further inland. Nothing drew his attention particularly, and he instead traveled along the herdless area's northern shore without encountering anyone for a while.
On the supposition that he would find something of interest, Darrow ascended some rocky cliffs where he could look northward toward the volcano of Tephra and southward over the expanse of the field. Three years a bachelor of questionable reputation had left him muscular and appropriately scarred. The trophies of battle and youthful folly were only darker variations in the carmine of his pelt, failing do diminish it's luster.
"We're lucky the wind is in our favor," My steps are careful and my gaze is on the precarious cliff we stand atop, but I glance over at the brilliantly red stallion when I speak, and again when I settle into a position with a good view. I don't recognize him, but there was familiarity in what I'd said before, and there is an air of unmistakable friendliness when I add.
"I'm Lepis, by the way. And that's Tephra, where the smell of sulfur is almost as breathtaking as the views." I'd heard that after a while residents grew immune to the smell, but having never asked a Tephran to verify that, I do not share what might be an unsubstantiated rumor.
My golden wings are held tightly to my sides, though a few stray feathers do rustle in the morning breeze. That same breeze gusts against the crimson stallion, and reminds me that he smells of no land that I know. I'd assumed him new to Beqanna - hence my naming of the kingdom to our north. I hadn't come here to find newcomers; instead my journey through the Field is only a smaller portion of my journey.
I mean to go to Tephra myself, and I've climbed this cliff to get the altitude needed to most easily soar across the channels and arrive in the kingdom. The red stallion had caught my eye though, and I have enough spare time that I choose to speak to him rather than wordlessly pass by.
09-23-2018, 11:00 PM (This post was last modified: 09-24-2018, 10:11 PM by Darrow.)
i'm the king of nothing at all
you're my queen of nothing at all
"No wonder this isn't a more popular viewpoint." The conversation flows without the normal hitching of early introductions. The carmine stallion stands broadside to the cliff edge and turns his attention away from observing Tephra to look towards Lepis. He remained relaxed almost indifferent as he took in the sight of her, but his keen eyes picked out the borders of old scars peeking from beneath her close held wings, and ghosting beneath her windblown mane. Darrrow's attention passed over these without any reaction to betray his interest in why a little mare whose perlino pelt seemed to glow iridescent in the early afternoon light would be so marked.
"Darrow." His features flicker, a smile pulling at his lips. "Thinking of going over?" Leaning a bit to peer down over the edge to the rocks and water below them, his eyes still on the perils of the bottom. "Better you than me." Being without wings and all that. Still if she meant to be on her way he'd best not make too much of an impediment of himself, even if, he told himself wryly, she was rather fine to look at. "Where are you coming from?"
In the roamings that had brought the cardinal beast to Beqanna he'd seen his share of solitude. He might just sample the scent of this blue pointed bird once she'd flown and retrace her steps to see what kind of world she'd come out of and then move along. He might be ready to put down roots, but he could look around a bit until he found a welcome.
"You came on a good day," I reply, glancing over at him for a moment with a brief smile. This is not a place I've ventured often (I have always stayed close to home), but from time to time I have seen a lone horse stand to take in Tephra. Much like Darrow had been doing this morning, I think as I watch his curious eyes flick across my scars.
I don't pull my wings tighter as I once did; there is no point in trying to hide them, I have learned. While the long fall of my navy and white mane often obscures the worst of them, that is not true on this windy spring day, which has a breeze that tugs at the long hair and slips against my wings invitingly.
"I am," is my answer to his question about going over, "Though I certainly wouldn't be if I had to swim." At least not today, I think, and not from this starting point. There are easier beaches a half mile here, where the cliffs have crumbled into soft sand and the journey down to the water's level is not so hazardous.
The red stallion - Darrow, I remind myself - asks where I am coming from. "The Taiga." I respond, and then add: "Though that was only because cutting through the redwoods is the shortest path to here. I started in Sylva this morning, which is where I live."
Shifting my weight, I attempt to make it clear that I am not in a rush this afternoon, as it is clear I am not preparing for an immediate take off. I am curious about the red stranger, and my blue grey eyes flick across his figure breifly before I repeat his earlier question. "And you, Darrow? Where are you coming from?"
i'm the king of nothing at all
you're my queen of nothing at all
Darrow catalogues away this brief explanation of her journey today. Perhaps the information will prove useful later when he is traveling through the area, though he does imagine that his land based journeys will be a bit different from the kind of forays Lepis makes. Looking southward he picks out the shapes of strangers making awkward introductions in the field below. Obviously he is here, and so most would assume he is the market for a place to live and so decides his next request is not too intrusive. She also seems willing to linger and talk, so why not? ”Sylva. Tell me about it.” His interest in genuine, ears turned toward her alertly except for the occasional flick down toward the meadow just in case someone decided to intrude on their conversation.
The red stallion shifts, a strong shoulder rolling slightly in something like a shrug. He looks past her toward the vast ocean to the southeast. ”A few places, but nowhere near here. I started to think it was time to settle down a little though.” He snorts, laughing at himself though the reason for this isn’t clear. ”And now here I am. This must be the place where I’m supposed to do that settling down.” He hadn’t really planned to come to Beqanna but now she held him here, he couldn’t say he could waltz off her shores and swim back to wherever he came from even if he’d wanted to. He fit here anyway, being as red as fresh blood was hardly notable in this place.
I do not follow his gaze as he looks south, but rather trace the distant and rocky shore of Tephra. It will take no time at all to reach the volcanic kingdom, I reassure myself, and turn back to see Darrow returning his own gold-ringed gaze to mine. He asks after Sylva, and the habitual smile is hesitant only for a moment before it tugs up at the edges of my navy mouth.
This is the first time I've spoken of Sylva to a stranger, and I find that the words come oddly slowly to my tongue. It is unlikely that Darrow will know this; he is not yet familiar with my typical rapid-fire wordplay.
"It's in a forest," I tell him, "A forest that keeps autumn colors year round." That at least is true, a fact that I have known since I was just a child. "It has a reputation for..." Here I trail off for a moment, then shrug my shoulders and throw whatever caution I might have had to the summer winds.
"For being a bit too much like the evil kingdoms of pre-Reckoning Beqanna." Darrow might not know what those kingdoms are, but there is good and evil everywhere, and I am sure that at least one of the few places he is from have something that he can compare to. "Though Arthas and I intend to reorganize now that we're in charge." The admission of my leadership is casual, as though it is something I have always been accustomed to.
"Beqanna is a good place to settle." I reply with a smile, finding the snort of a laugh in Darrow's admission. "What is your idea of settling down? Perhaps Sylva might be a good place to do that."
i'm the king of nothing at all
you're my queen of nothing at all
How nicely he’ll fit into a perpetual autumn setting. This is amuses Darrow but he does not give any indication of this. He isn’t interested in the variations of good and evil, as he has traipsed the boundaries of these things all his life, not quite a chaotic neutral personality but something like that. Perhaps settling down meant choosing a side, setting up shop in a corner of the ring. If that was the case, he would resist the desire. He considered asking her to explain “reorganize” as it applied to the changes she wished to make to her kingdom. He couldn’t act surprised at the revelation that the held a position of power, she did have a certain gravitas.
”I’m not entirely sure myself. I’m sure it involves women.” He says with a steady bored tone, as though weary with himself. He sheds this affect and adds, ”But beyond that, I’ve reached a point where I feel inclined to assign myself a little purpose.” How much and why would still continue to be up to his discretion, but as she had said, maybe Sylva would be the place for that. He shifts, squaring himself as the wind picks up a bit again as if to make him reconsider his proximity to the ledge. ”I think I’d like to take a look at your Sylva, if you’re extending the invitation.” And even if she wasn’t, he’d probably look anyway.
I glance once more at the black sand shores of Tephra, and then affix my gaze to the red stallion.
"Why don't I show it to you?" I offer. As I say the words I turn away a bit from the open cliff face, and my golden wings tuck down a little more firmly against my sides. "They're not expecting me over there anyway." Though my responsibilities include visits to the other kingdoms, the scheduling of those travels are at my whim. It had taken some adjustment (well, re-adjustment really) but that does not show with the flippant comment and the way I move my smaller body to the side.
"I think Sylva could help you find some purpose," I tell him, "And it might even help that you aren't sure what you're looking for. We are a contractual kingdom, and our goals are as varied as our members." Currently dark-hearted members, I think, but I intend for everything to have a place. "You're guaranteed a safe place to lay your head and a great deal of freedom to do - or not do - whatever you'd like."
Here I pause, remembering his earlier comment. There is a smile on my face and in my blue-grey eyes as I add: "And if you find that settling down does involve a woman, she'd be welcome in Sylva as well." While I have not met many of Sylva's residents, I've not yet come across one that seems to have Darrow's level of, well, sanity. They have their strengths, but good humor is lacking in the autumn woods.
"I could take you there now, if you're free?" I offer this without hesitation, but I know better than to assume he has nowhere to go. Perhaps he has a friend to meet in the Forest or plans to see the River. I take another step ahead to indicate my readiness but look back over my shoulder in a way that echoes my earlier question.
He listens as Lepis provides a description of Sylva’s leanings, and finds the explanation satisfactory. After all, he can walk right back out again should he desire to. That thought rather suited his traditionally one for one and all for one attitude and so resolves to give Syla more than just a cursory glance before deciding to look elsewhere. Lepis too has chosen to delay her errands to escort him personally and he would not have refused even if the place did not already appeal to him. So he turns his vibrant bulk in the direction which the winged mare has turned, nodding once and then moving out after her. ”By all means, lead the way. I’d like to see this dark kingdom gone rogue.”
Darrow
i've been a teacher and a student of hurt
i've kept my word for whatever that's worth
never been last but I've never been first
no, I may not be the best but I'm far from the worst
@[Lepis] Sorry its short, just letting this serve as a closer and I'll send him off to post in Sylva soon! <3 <3
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