"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
Only his hoofprints in the snow show that he’s on the move.
He leaves a trail from Dale to meadow, invisible in all other respects save for the tell-tale tracks. It’s easier this way, traveling is; anyone who ran into him would likely balk at the formless figure ambling onward. He’s glad for the silence, happy to indulge himself in the quiet that he usually isn’t granted. More than anything, though, it’s wildly freeing to slip into his ghost form and escape from his duties, if only for a while. He knows that he’s sacrificed a normal life in service of the Dale. He realizes that the trajectory is his life will be far different than that of his sister. Even though he and Joscelin had grown up much the same, (under the same stars and guiding love of their parents) she now has ample freedom while he has duty and responsibility. And while he can never resent the choices their parents initially made for them, (a choice that he had later accepted, making it his all the same) sometimes it’s nice to leave it all behind for an afternoon elsewhere.
Ramiel materializes on the edge of the forest bordering the meadow. A last great snowstorm has left the open expanse covered in a blanket of white. Many of the horses stand in little clusters, huddling closer with each gust of wind that sends the snow swirling around them. He smiles at this. His own shaggy charcoal coat keeps him warm enough. The mountain lands are rugged and wild, besides, and he is more than used to the sweeping winds that come down off the peaks.
Despite his relative comfort, he walks slowly into the fold of bodies. It’s been so long since he last came here, so long since he had a conversation that didn’t involve the Dale or politics in some capacity, that it gives him pause. He looks for a familiar face at first. For as long as it’s been since he had a genial chat, it’s been far longer since he saw Wrynn or Kellyn or Nihlus or Rhy. He’d meant to keep an eye and an ear out for them - his fellows from the afterlife – but it seems their different lives have left them strangers. It’s unfortunate, because they were some of the only non-Daleans he had felt a connection to. He’d hoped they would play a more prominent role in his life (especially sweet Wrynn – only now does he realize how much he misses her) but that hope fades every day. The stallion wonders if Gail would be a different matter entirely. He thinks if she’d been brought back, their glue and black light, they wouldn’t be able to leave so easily.
Eventually, his golden eyes settle on the rest of the crowd, unable to find what he’s looking for. He flicks his tail across his back. It’s a nervous habit of his that he can’t seem to shake, this time brought on by his ineptitude at this sort of socialization. He’d never been good at it. Even as a colt, he’d been too serious, too prideful, too old at heart. Now well into adulthood, it’s an uncomfortable aspect of his personality he hates to admit. Why did he think this would be enjoyable? Ramiel moves towards a stallion off by himself, his ears pricked forward hopefully, before he decides better of it and turns away. He’s just about to head home and admit defeat when he hears a voice off to his left. He turns, wondering if someone else has made the first move so he won’t have to.
The wind is colder than I had expected, and the snow is deeper. Though I had told my parents that I was ready to be on my own, I find that I am regretting my choice with each passing moment. The sky overheard is grey and ominous, promising to add even more snow to the while blanket that covers the Meadow. I tuck my wings even more tightly against my body from my landing and they shield my thin hide from the biting wind with the white feathers.
I am used to warmth and sunshine, to the lapping of turquoise water on gold sand beaches – this place is so far from that.
The journey here had not been long, but with only the words of Mother and Father to guide me across the wide ocean I had gotten lost several times. There were islands to rest on, to sleep and drink and eat before flying again, but it has been months since I have seen the face of another horse.
The first one I see is a dark stallion, and I call out a soft “Hello!”
At first I think that he doesn’t hear me, but then he turns and I whicker a greeting to assure him that I am the one that had called out. I step through the snow carefully, lifting each feathered leg and placing it carefully before moving the others. It is an odd way to walk, but I think it is better than falling face first into the snow.
As I approach, it becomes clear that he’s taller than I am (at least for now), with gold streaks in his mane and tail that remind me of Father. I’m gold as well, but only a natural shade of palomino, with my mother’s plethora of spots. “Hello!” I say again, my voice as bright as my smile, “Do you live here? I’m Jhene, and I’ve just gotten here. Is it always this cold here?”
“Hello!” The voice calls from his left, and he turns, finally sure it is meant for him. A young girl with an already impressive set of horns walks strangely in the snow. It’s clear from the way she moves that she isn’t used to the powdery precipitation. Given her age, it’s not entirely surprising. Ramiel wonders, too, if this is her first trip to the meadow. He’ll always remember his fondly – how Josc had felled a tree without hesitation, how strange that mare with her stick-friend had been, how Ea had looked upon the scene with a cold disdain he had liked almost immediately. It hadn’t been winter then, but the trip had been challenging for different reasons all the same.
Both the memory and the girl’s dogged determination bring an easy smile to his face as he watches her draw near. He notices how tall she is the closer she gets, and he finds he is no longer certain how old she is. The stallion has been rather inundated with the company of young women as of late, not that he minds. He sees a little bit of Lirren and Graveling in this stranger. He thinks it must be a thread of commonality between all of the youth of the world; they share the same spark in their eyes, a fragile naivety that is slowly crushed under the weight of the years. It’s still as bright as ever in this one, at least, and it makes her an ideal candidate to converse with.
She repeats her greeting again, making sure she has his attention. The grey dips his head to show he’s heard her and will wait before she closes the distance. A smile grows on his face as she introduces herself properly, her manner still so vibrant and eager. It’s a vestige of youth, he knows, but it still warms him to her nonetheless. “Hello Jhene. I’m Ramiel.” She looks chilled despite the feathered wings and shaggy coat she wears, and he wonders about her origins. Perhaps some far-flung desert herd? “Here in Beqanna or here in the meadow?” He decides she must be from Beqanna at least, sporting as many accouterments as she is. He’s heard that they are rather unique in that way. But where, then, is her home?
Ramiel’s answer will always be straightforward and given with a large dose of pride. “My home is the Dale, to the southeast of here.” He points in the direction with his muzzle, seeing the trail of prints he’d left behind clearly in the snow. When he looks back at the young woman, his golden eyes soften. She’s so accepting and curious of a total stranger. It is clear her life hasn’t been touched by darkness in the way that the Dalean children’s has. It makes him wish Graveling had been born here, with Gail in the flesh. It plants hope in his mind that one day Lirren will understand the depths of Elysteria’s love for her. He wants the best for all of them, even this happy girl – he hopes nothing will change her simple happiness. It’s a naïve hope (that his eyes no longer shine with, but he carries it in a corner of his heart anyway) but he holds onto it.
“Only in winter. The cold will soon pass,” he says, laughing lightly at her worry. And it is true. The birds are already returning from the overwintering nests elsewhere. He hears their songs in the earliest parts of the morning, just before sunrise. Truthfully, he’ll be glad for the change himself. Spring brings new beginnings, after all. It is time for the Dale to turn its own corner. But thinking about the mountain kingdom is exactly what he’s meant to avoid by coming here, so he shakes his head of the thought and nods at a nearby tree. “See that bird? It’s a robin. It means that spring is not too far away.” The young king smiles at Jhene, feeling far too much like Weir as he tells her about the red-chested bird. Ah well. He was bound to rub off on him eventually. “Where are you from, Jhene?”
She is careless, and cautious all at the same time. Her demeanor is curiosity and her habit is hesitancy. Exemplary longs to be the wild, outgoing, sociable female that so many kingdoms search to have and yet she isn’t. The most she has to offer is a pretty face and patient characteristic.
She lacks a certain spark that draws attention. She is easy to overlook, oversee, ignore.
Imagine the struggle to make friends.
Her ebony body slinks amongst the shadows, quiet and stealthy. Her hazel eyes digest the scenery, the plethora of outgoing bubbly personalities intermingling like teenagers at a house party—how enviable. Her stomach is flipping just at the sight.
Our quiet little doe, or patient mouse.
There isn’t much of a back story on little Exemplary, though I wish I had more to tell you. Her social game is sub par, struggling to move beyond small talk yet yearning to be a successful diplomat. The odds are forever not in her favor,
An orphan, adopted by the Deserts and nursed by the fae. She is a mare of incredibly talent, potential, and heart. She is a female of kindness and compassion, but she isn’t one of trying new things. In order to learn, she must be open to try. And without the courage, without the bravery, she is in a deeper slump than believed.
Consistently battling herself.
It is then she sees a stallion, seemingly struggling with a similar task. She feels a breath of relief exhale her body. When one on one, Exemplary can be quite bold. It is just finding that. Finding that similar soul so someone won’t run her over with entitlement and noise.
She hears a feminine voice and hesitancy yet again overwhelms her. Though the voice sounds kind, it is another voice that she will need to stand up with.
She is too close now, they will see her staring awkwardly if she doesn’t move now.
So she does, elegantly and calmly.
Disregarding every fearful nerve begging her to stop.
“Am I interrupting?” Her voice is soft, harp like, and her expression warm. “Exemplary.”
Exemplary
I will be yours, and only yours, until the day I fade to black
JHENE
at dawn I woke in the rubbleKnee-deep in destruction I'd wrought
I’d suspected but been unable to confirm that I had actually made it to Beqanna, so when the grey stallion says as much I smile all the wider. Good, I think, I’ve made it. I nod in reply to his question – I’d meant both, but he elaborates, and I listen carefully. The Dale. The name sounds familiar, but I was never the most attentive child, and have forgotten most of the details of parent’s stories.
“My mother used to live in the Dale,” I tell him, because that much at least I am sure of. He hadn’t asked about tht though, and rather than elaborate I decide to wait until he says something more. I don’t want to irritate the first horse I’ve met.
I’m relieved to learn that the snow will melt eventually, and I look hopefully at the robin as though willing it to bring Spring a bit faster. I am ready for warmth and flowers and sunshine. He asks about me, and for a moment I hesitate. The place we lived had no name, it was simply a beach and a meadow and a forest, a secluded island where my parents remain. “Over the sea,” I say instead, “But my parents came from here, before.” I do not know how clear it is in my speech and actions that I am still young; I try so very hard to act like the adult that Father had said I was.
I turn at the sound of approaching hooves and see a mare, her movements elegant and her manner exceeding polite. “Oh hello!” I say, unconsciously straitening my shoulders in an attempt to look as poised as she does. “Ramiel was telling me about the Dale.” I explain, “Are you from the Dale too?”
Then waves came crashing down on meAnd tried to take me out to sea
He finds it isn’t so hard, talking one on one with a complete stranger.
Not that this particular stranger should be, as young and open to meeting new faces as she is. Not that he doesn’t have experience with her type, either. She reminds him so much of Graveling and Lirren in different ways that he finds her rather easy to converse with. It’s a start, at least.
She surprises him when she tells him that her mother had called the Dale home as well. His shock likely shows in the widening of his eyes and the tilt of his head. Who could her mother have been? And more importantly, what could possibly cause anyone to leave the rugged wild of the Dale? Granted, he’s not visited many of the other kingdoms. He doesn’t know the splendor of the Deserts at night, star-strewn as the sky is. He can’t see the aptly named Heaven’s Gates in the soft light of morning. To him, the jagged peaks and the climbing pines of the Dale will always be the most beautiful. And even if aesthetic isn’t enough to hold one in place, the generosity and kindness of its people should see to that task.
Ramiel can’t help but ask, even knowing that he might be prying. “Why did she leave? If you don’t mind me asking.” Surely it was before he was born, at least. He makes it a point to know every face within the kingdom. He only hopes Jhene’s mother hadn’t left for too terrible of reasons. Especially, he hopes she hadn’t left with a bad impression of the Dale. The horned pegasus expounds on her origins and his curiosity is further piqued. “I’ve never seen the sea, but I’d like to.” He says it neutrally, but some amount of regret lingers on his tongue. It’s not likely that he will, not in the foreseeable future – not while he leads his home, anyway. But best not burden the young with his troubles. She seems happy enough to have made it here, and he won’t dull the moment for her in any way.
He is rather impressed that she’d flown all the way across it. Not that he knows how large or wide it is, really, but it sounds impressive all the same. Not to mention the fact that the spotted girl had left her parents in order to set off for their once-home, not knowing of the conditions that awaited her. Not knowing about the bitter chill of a dying winter, at least. It cuts around them now, that last bit of cold wind. But it also brings a new face to join their little group. Ramiel smiles encouragingly at a slender black mare that hovers at the edge of their circle.
“Hello. Not at all.” The grey stallion looks at the appaloosa when she explains and introduces him. He figures he might as well do the same and turns back to Exemplary. “This is Jhene, from over the sea.” His lips stretch even further in a grin. He and Jhene hardly know each other, but here they are already speaking for one another. Ramiel already knows what Exemplary’s answer will be. And unless she’s looking for a place still, he knows the Dale isn’t her home. But he lets her answer for herself. If anything, the black mare seems almost as nervous as he was in this situation. Was, but not any longer. The two young mares are easy company, and he no longer regrets his decision to come to the meadow today. There is always something to be learned in any situation, after all.
Typical the woman doesn't wander too far off from the herd...but you have to have a herd first in which to wander from. Perhaps that is why she lemon yellow roan has managed to find herself in the meadow. She isn't quite sure if she wants to pair off just yet so why not take a little r&r for herself? Here it was warm. Here it was safe. The scent of fall was nipping on the warm breeze which means the season of estrus was near.
Light hued nails move the Abstang form among small clusters of horses. Each engaged and chatting away merrily. Astrah looks among the groups until she sees one consisting of a male and a few females. Frame nears as lobes flicker forward indicating her interest and a large warm smile covered the whiskered maw. "Hello!" She hopes she isn't interrupting but by the look of things the equines are participating in a friendly conversation. Their demeanor's are warm to the eye but of course Astrah had no qualms about scooting along if she wasn't wanted. "I'm Astrah...hope to not interrupt but this looks like a friendly group..."
Honey colored pools shift to each face for acceptance. The small gentle smile remains on her lips in hopes to join the little gathering. It was hard to be alone sometimes.
Typical the woman doesn't wander too far off from the herd...but you have to have a herd first in which to wander from. Perhaps that is why she lemon yellow roan has managed to find herself in the meadow. She isn't quite sure if she wants to pair off just yet so why not take a little r&r for herself? Here it was warm. Here it was safe. The scent of fall was nipping on the warm breeze which means the season of estrus was near.