"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
10-21-2020, 06:33 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2020, 06:33 PM by Mikael.)
The young stallion moved more like a panther. His gait was smooth and rolling, head carried forward as he listened to all he passed by. Small mammals and lizards rustling in the undergrowth. Birds flitting from branch to branch as the muscular horse padded beneath. The river flowing musically some meters to his left. It all formed a picture of the surroundings, and what he could expect on his day away from home.
The long tangles of deep purple forelock obscured his vision some, until he threw them away from his face in a sudden swing of his head. There was nothing altered about him today. No grass patterned coat or heathered mane and tail to blend him into the background. Just himself, mottled purples and browns and as common as the day he was born.
For all his mannerisms, Mikael had long since come to terms with the fact that it was his mother he took after most. Quick witted, sarcastic. And thoroughly ordinary. He smiled to himself as he pushed through a blackberry thicket, hissing under his breath as thorns snagged on his skin. He'd have to tell Keeper about the berries that he was sure had filled these branches over the summer.
If he ever got out of here, that was. With a grunt, the burly male pulled away as hard as he could, ripping stems from the ground and snarling them further into his mane and tail. He cursed, louder than before, and pulled again. Really, this briar hadn't looked so dense from the outside, but now he was struggling to extract himself from it.
With a bunching of muscles, he jumped forward as well as he could. Hopefully there was nothing worse where he landed. "ARGGG!" His holler rang through the riverland as the twisting thicket at last let him go. Fragments of blackberry vines remained in his hair, and blood oozed from a dozen places where thorns had raked him, but he was free.
His head shook and he sneezed several times, before lifting his head to realize that his ordeal had perhaps not been a private one.
Tangled like a forest dark and deep, Catnip weaves a path of sinewy vines and tightly-wound trees. Sprouts with the strength of springtime burst forth in the indentions her hooves leave. Autumn grips Beqanna with a steely, winter-beckoning hand, but the girl has spent her years fighting the cold with a haunting ferocity. Where Catnip goes, so goes the earth.
A few sweet-laden spots in the Common Lands have become Cat's favorites to frequent. She often spends hours there, doting and singing to the fruit and the berries, yellow eyes closed in a peace so very alien to a turbulent Beqanna. An odd creature - calm and yet spitting fire, covered in the dead's protection--she curls beneath thorn and branch alike, content with the vines in her hair and the spirits coiling lovingly around her legs. Most won't understand her but - Cat speaks to the trees and the flowers and all that which nurtures her. Never has she minded the lack of equine company.
"Oh!" she gasps, rather abruptly coming out of a reverie to watch a purple stallion tear apart her little blackberry grove. "Oh, stop, I can help -" she starts, rushing forward in body and magic; but Mikael's bloody escape from the thorns keeps Catnip from finishing her cry. "Oh," she says like a slowly ticking broken record, a disappointed hum following suit. Vines of wildflowers wrap tightly around her legs in displeasure (the plants know their mother, their maker, and their lover - they mourn when she mourns, suffer when she suffers, and hide her anger when she refuses to set it free).
"Are you okay?" Cat finally says, hesitantly stepping forward to closer inspect where blood pools in the stranger's fur. The mare feels discomfort in offering her concern when she hardly speaks to those that can speak back; but plants know compassion just as they know they need the sun, and Cat can't help but to liken the man's leaking blood to the falling petals of a wilting rose. "Let me take the thorns out, please," she adds as an afterthought, quickly learning that blood makes her stomach turn.
11-11-2020, 08:56 PM (This post was last modified: 11-11-2020, 08:57 PM by Mikael.)
He grunted non-commitally as the verdant girl emerged from the undergrowth. It was no wonder he'd missed her, when she looked designed to merge with the overgrown landscape. The corners of his mouth turned downward. He'd gone wrong in more ways than one, if her expression was anything to go by.
Shaking bits of briar from his mane, the roaned stallion shrugged. "I'll be alright. Stars know my sister has given me worse." Which was perfectly true. Little blackberry thorns stung, but they were nothing to being swatted by a sabertooth. His flank quivered under the intensity of her gaze, making his own eyes drop to where she looked.
He'd made a mess of himself, alright. Twigs and stray leaves were intermingled with tufts of loosened hair and streaks of red blood. All in all, a disaster. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth ruefully. "I don't think many stuck. It looks worse than it is, I promise." He tried for reassurance, smiling haphazardly at the pale forest girl. "D'you live here? I didn't mean to barge through, that briar didn't look near as thick from the other side." He nodded back at the offending patch. He shook again, dislodging a few more twigs.
This was so far not at all how he'd been hoping the day would go, but it could always be worse. He'd run into a this pretty little flower, after all. Even if it did seem possible that he'd barreled through her home in the process. Already the blood was drying to a crust on his coat, the scratches soon to be forgotten once a new adventure caught him up. That was life for him. One experience after another, every day different from the last, but linked because they were all his own.
The world could take away your home, your family, your life. It could take away just about anything. Not his curiosity, though. Not his joy in discovering the unknown. Those were his til the end of his days. Rough and roguish, he smiled breezily at the girl who looked like she'd been born of spring flowers and summer breezes. A new unknown. "I'm Mikael, by the way. When you tell your friends about the rude stud who went tramping through your woods, you can have all the details."
"Hmmf," Catnip says in clear displeasure, eyeing the wild man and his thorns. She frowns, wondering what his sister must be doing to eclipse the startling ache of a stuck thorn. She's had plenty of distracted moments, forgetting to call the vines away from her skin and coming out scratched and irate. A shudder almost quivers down her spine - not a woman made for pain, Catnip. She's only ever known her gentle, plant-loving siblings.
"Hmmf," she says again, disagreeing with his observation on how many stuck. Cat would never allow that many to dig into her skin. "Well, ya did," comes next, quite stern and earnest; but the rueful look on Mikael's face softens her own and she regrets the maternal scolding immediately. She sighs, finding her own look of regret, and traces her gaze over the crushed group of berries. It might take a lot out of her, but she can fix the plants with some love and little rebuilding of trust; but she can't heal Mikael and he can't call the plants away, so she finds compassion.
A laugh, high and musical, escapes Cat's pursed lips. Her observant eyes leave the bleeding blackberries to find Mikael's eyes. She's begrudging in this release of tension, but doesn't regret it. "I'll be sure to include all the sweat and blood I put into growing these plants, too. Really make you look like an asshole," she answers, tilting her head coyly. A stray lock of pale purple mane falls into her eyes and she immediately tries to shake it out the way, huffing as she does.
"I'm Catnip. I don't live here but I do try to take care of these blackberries. If you see another healthy looking group berries out here, you should assume I've put some work into them," she says, with a not so subtle suggestion that he shouldn't go trampling through them, too.
"Are you sure I can't help?" Cat asks, eyes straying to the twigs and leaves in Mikael's mane. "Or, if you like the look, I can add a few more in."
He smiled, even as a flicker of guilt twanged inside him. He felt bad about the blackberries, really he did. But it was almost worth it to see the way her mouth crinkled at the edges when she thought someone, he, was being foolish. There was another huff of consternation, and his smile grew into a puppyish grin.
He wiped the expression quickly off his face, but the humor stayed in his eyes. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise. It's just that you could have been my mother, just now. You sounded just like her." It's not said in any way that could be taken meanly. Mikael's dam was a force to be reckoned with in all weather, and he loved her like he loved the sun. That glimmer of similarity warmed him the same way, and he found himself wondering what other surprises the little green mare held.
As she answered his hypothetical, the bedraggled stallion nodded solemnly. He kept his voice as deadpan as he was able. "Absolute bastard, that's me." He agreed, not quite managing to keep his mouth straight. Oh well, he'd tried.
He rocked back on his heels when she returned his introduction, and the smile that was never far from his lips returned. Catnip, eh? What a coincidence was that. He had the grace to look remorseful as she mentioned other berry briars, and figured he'd better heed her unspoken warning. She seemed to take these shrubs rather personally. Whatever work she meant was certainly working if it was why he'd gotten so tangled in the first place.
Still, he could live with a few scratches, if it had drawn the little forest nymph from her bower.
His muzzle wrinkled warily as she took a closer look at him, and he chuckled under his breath. "Will letting you decorate me count as atonement of my sins?" He asked, shifting his weight. There was mischief in her eyes, he could feel it. The same look his sister got when she was about to suggest a game that was sure to get them in trouble. But. It was always great fun until they got caught. "Go ahead then," he offered, stretching his neck out within her reach. "Do your worst." Brave words from one stranger to another. Mikael had never been known for his common sense.
11-22-2020, 09:39 PM (This post was last modified: 11-22-2020, 09:39 PM by catnip.)
catnip
Ugh, Catnip thinks, nearly curling her lip at the comparison to his mother. That's not exactly what she wants to hear from a strange man in the woods, whether she thinks he's handsome or not. She shakes her pale mane out, yellow rose petals falling out as she does. A crease of her lips betrays her displeasure, followed by a suspicious crinkling of her eyes. I've only ever been a mother to my plants.
The snarky look on her face fades as Mikael attempts remorse, and Cat finds herself thinking he looks rather cute while appearing sheepish. A begrudging smile lifts her lips as he continues to speak, one quite pretty and opposite the sassy attitude Cat often wears.
"Yes, I think so, actually. I'll make a right fool out of you," she answers, tilting her head to the right as the sweet smile turned into something ripe with mischief.
The yellow of Catnip's eyes glow as her gaze leaves Mikael's to peer at the trees surrounding them. With a little concentration and a good idea, a few green branches begin to mature. They reach out to the berry-destroyer, tangling into his mane. Cat's not cruel as she calls the plants, but she's certainly not gentle as the branches form a tall mohawk over Mikael's neck. A burst of laughter escapes her then, both because he looks ridiculous and because she never thought she'd get to use her magic like this.
"You look ridiculous," Cat says between laughs as her joy dies into giggles. The branches leave Mikael's mane faster than they had arrived, catching little strands as they go. The little mare notices the long hairs then twines little branches around them so they'll be forever braided together.
"There," she murmurs, cocking her head then turning her eyes back to Mikael, "a reminder and a lesson. Don't come stomping through my woods." She's serious but soft, finding she can hold affection for creatures just as she can for plants.
His comment seemed to fall a bit flat, the girl's face less than pleased. Oh well. Not everyone's mother was an example to live by, and not everyone was as close to their family as he was. He shrugged, letting the subject drop.
With a cat-like stretch, he groaned deep in his throat and returned lazily to an upright pose. Meeting her eyes, he found himself caught off guard by the smile she wore. It transformed the wood nymph from a vengeful guardian into... Well, he wasn't sure. Something softer, kinder. He couldn't help but smile back.
"There you go, proving we're strangers," he said, chiding. He stepped closer, tsking as he did. "A real friend would know I need no help in making a fool of myself." His lips quirked, a dare in his eyes as he met the golden glow of hers.
It didn't take long for her to take him up on the challenge. His skin crawled, twitching as if ants were building a nest in his hair. "What the...!" He hopped sideways, startled when the vines emerged in from the edge of his vision. He froze in place, the weight of twining foliage heavy on his crest.
It was over as quickly as it began, the stallion left with less weight and a new found sense of respect for the little green creature. Strands of his berry-bright hair had been woven intricately through the greenery, artistic, even as she declared it a lesson. "Consider me taught." He said, reverent and amused. A lopsided smile remained on his mouth, but there was an odd bit of seriousness behind it. "So... I'll be on my way then. I'll be extra careful around any berry bushes I find. Wouldn't want to bring the wrath of the forest fairy down on my head again." The space between them seemed to shrink, sky and earth and all else fading, while the verdant girl's face and luminous eyes filled his vision. "I doubt my dignity could take another make over." His voice had grown softer, more intimate as the space between them closed.
She could whip him with vines, chase him off, and that would be the end of it. He'd continue his adventures and keep her as a shining memory. But if she closed the final distance... The coppery shine of his eyes dropped to her intriguing, mobile lips.
Catnip cocks her head coyly at the mention of strangers. They certainly didn't know each other, but is he hoping that they might? Her lips quirk, the tiniest sign of pleasure, before her eyes crease in an attempt to hide her emotions. She's not an open, creature, no - and it's becoming clearer with each equine encounter she has that her attitude is much more flippant than she realizes.
Consider me taught.
"Good," Cat states with a nod, tucking her chin to her chest in a slight display of shyness. Her lashes flutter and her cheeks flush, reprimanding him didn't exactly make her feel like a mother anymore.
Mikael steps closer and Catnip feels her heart jump straight into her throat, a sensation she's only experienced when a particularly difficult bud finally blooms. The flush in her cheeks burns like white hot fire and for a moment she is simply frozen, the only movement she can muster being a rapid blinking of her lashes. "But what if I told you . . ." she begins to murmur in response, only cut off by a sudden dizziness and approach of Mikael's suggest eyes.
Suddenly, Cat turns her cheek, breathing out and finding herself again. A wry smile lifts her lips as she raises her mouth to Mikael's ear: "Didn't you say you were going to leave?" It's a whisper, a teasing, one she follows with a quick kiss to where his ear meets his head.
Most of what she does now is on some quick, flirtatious instinct. And when she leans back, the wry smile turning into a cheeky one, she allows her nose to brush just slightly against the front of his.
The flicker of amusement is all the encouragement the young stallion needs to continue his flirtation. It's a game he is still learning the rules for, operating on instinct more than any kind of skill. He is finding that he enjoys it, though. It's a kind of chase, and a dance, and he is hoping that he is making the right steps, unsure what the reward for doing so might be.
He can feel warmth from her skin, and he wonders briefly if she is feverish? But there is no other indication that she might be sick, just the glow of heat that intrigues him. She stumbles on her words, on the uneven ground, and he raises a brow at the sudden lack of composure. Had he gotten her off kilter? The thought made him grin until she brought her lips to his ear, breathy whisper making him shiver where her breath touched.
The quick press of her mouth to the place was very nearly missable, if it wasn't for the burning spot he was left to focus on. He was suddenly feeling a bit off kilter himself, eyes half-hooded as he chuckled hoarsely in reply. "I did, I did at that."
When her smile was genuine, it lit up her face like sunbeams illuminating the forest floor. He couldn't help but smile back, the soft brush of her nose against his sending a thrilling bolt through his gut. "I think it might." He breathed. "I'm guessing you'd rather I not stomp through the berry patches next time I want to see you. How else shall I go about summoning the wood nymph?"
