"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
Hey megalomaniac You're no Jesus Yeah, you're no fucking Elvis Wash your hands clean of yourself baby Maniac, step down, step down Step down
She had managed to pick her way over hills and forests and sands. Every day the sun rose and fell and she seemed to find a another tangle or barb in the length of her tail, not that it helped that it dragged on the ground from it's length. The glittering green eyes are alight with inner fury at the damned shrubbery. Too much nature! Katarina huffs and nearly works herself into a mild tantrum as she shrieks in her frustration but she bites back on her irritation and breathes slow and deep to calm her anger.
In.
Out.
In.
Ou-
"Yowch!" A fucking mosquito takes a little nibble out on the very sensitive tissue of her nostril. The velvet blacktress bellows in anger and throws her head wildly, throwing brush and soil and a fantastic array of colorful curses. She was very much over the trek through the wilderness. At this rate, birds would be nesting in her hair before summer.
After many more burrs and more bruises, the dark mare emerges on the edge of Loess. The forest of Taiga had been a feat but here she is, mostly in one piece. Katarina does not know she has stumbled upon an established area but the scent of equines was rather strong so there was some sort of promise. A green eye slides from one edge of an opened area to another, notice there were paths marked in the grasses by many hooves. She sighs softly, hopefully someone would emerge eventually before she decided to die from exposure or boredom.
It’s strange how ancient blood always manages to find itself in Beqanna. He doesn’t realize their link, that whispered connection that draws him from Leliana’s side and the depths of the Loessian dungeon. Her mother’s blood still shows in the feathering at his ankles and his strong, broad shoulders – strong enough to cradle the weight of the world like countless creatures before him.
His olive-green eyes search her when he approaches but he says nothing at first. Instead, he examines the fire behind her eyes and the little burrs stubbornly nestled in the long black locks of her mane. Vulgaris offers a nod of his head but keeps his chin held high as he comes to a stop in front of her. She’s different, he can tell that much by the way she carries herself and how she holds her face, but he doesn’t try to pick her brain with any prying questions just yet.
“Welcome to Loess. I’m Vulgaris,” he says as he attempts a smile despite the fearsome shape of his face. He still lacks lips, making the expression all scar tissue and pointed teeth rather than warm and welcoming. No one can say he didn’t try to be friendly at least. “Are you looking for a home or to be healed?”
He tilts his head, watching her curiously while his ears remain pointed forward. Vulgaris is careful to keep his shoulders relaxed so at least his body language can communicate the peacefulness that his face cannot. They’ve been growing faster than he anticipated, really, but he’s always eager to add to their numbers and strengthen their forces.
Hey megalomaniac You're no Jesus Yeah, you're no fucking Elvis Wash your hands clean of yourself baby Maniac, step down, step down Step down
So she does not die from exposure or boredom. Instead, a man of smoke and rain finds her standing like a terribly made beast instead of her typical sleek black appearance. She is scraped and scratched, tangled and torn by bramble and various other brush. The length of her long hair is knotted in a rather 'bird nest' fashion that was suitable for no beast.
The glittering green eyes observe the male's form closely. He is tall but so was she, leggy and lean, and familiar. Katarina leans with her head slightly bowed as she rocked on her hind feet to edge near him whilst the blazing green eyes lock to his own. The dark nostrils dilate as she catches his masculine scent but something lurked just beneath the hazy grey color. An ear swivels as he speaks, her mannerisms of an untrusting wild thing, then she snaps her head up high and balanced upon a solidly made neck.
"Thank you." Her tone is reminding of the way rich mahogany brandy and a fine cigar taste after a hard day's work. Her eyes are trained on the darker green of his, curious but still meeting his attention with her own. "I'm Katarina...is there water near by I may clean myself up in?" She inquires with a near monotone moniker, low and steady. The dark mare wanted to wash the filth and blood from her velvet body. She is aware the request is odd but she hopes the man will be hospitable enough to allow her the use of his pools. His inquiry as to her reasoning to have entered Loess does not go unnoticed but she had overlooked it for a few moments. "I would say a home...provided there is the said fresh water to wash away all this sap from my body."
