"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
The weather had shifted and the light of the sun was now hidden behind thick patch of clouds; their shapes illuminated by the bright rays attempting to burst through. A dark shadow was cast across the land as the low-lying storm began to roll in, a soft rumble of thunder sounding off in the distance. He watched it slowly shift across the sky, its darkness seeping into what little warmth had settled in from the onset of spring. A chill ran down the course of his vertebrae, though he did not flinch - his mass was enough to keep him comfortable, in spite of the cold gusts of air that were beginning to pick up. The breeze laced through his tangled coal locks, brushing them over his intense crimson gaze. He stared off, looking over the land before him.
The buds were just beginning to the blossom with new life, and green threads of grassland were starting to rise up from where the soil had once been covered with a sheet of ice and snow. The sky would soon drench the land, nourishing it with its pounding rain, accompanied by its jarring thunder and startling lightning. As he began to lose himself in his thoughts, a crack echoed across the sky, its silvery strike bright and stark against the looming clouds. All at once, it began to rain. It was soft, at first. The droplets lapped softly at his pelt, dampening it but resembling a comfortable mist, if nothing else.
The onslaught was not far behind.
Soon the rain pounded harshly onto his skin, dripping down and staining his blackened coat. He stalked forward, his thick neck lowered as the droplets poured down along his forehead, occasionally falling into his vision. He blinked away at the invasion, his long lashes catching most of it - in his field of vision was a towering, swaying willow. Perhaps it was not the most ideal shelter, due to the streaks of lightning occasionally striking out at the skyline, but any port in a storm. The long, beaded tendrils hanging from the branches caressed his skin as he stepped beneath the canopy of the willow. He shook and rattled his flesh, shaking himself of the damp residue lingering on his skin, his muscles rippling beneath with each movement.
02-07-2016, 08:38 PM (This post was last modified: 02-20-2016, 03:31 PM by Lucrezia.)
Despite the predicament of the weather, Lucrezia did not flee from the Meadow. She watches as the dark grey clouds roll across the sky, hiding the light from the sun. It had been a rather fairly warm spring morning on her way here but it seemed that nature decided to change its course. The soft rumble of thunder sounding off in the distance does not scare her. In fact, she waits for it to come and along with the rain. She knew there would be, or at least the dark clouds looked promising.
This time of year had always been a favorite of Lucrezia and even the Meadow itself. This was her childhood playground, her adventure land. It was the place where she would come to imagine what her life would be like when she was not off adventuring in the Chamber or bothering her now queenly sister. Lucrezia tries often not to look back on those memories. Her memories of the Chamber and her family are full of secrets and betrayal. She was not surprised to feel angry towards them, it was something natural she told herself. However, it was the way she had changed that scared her the most.
She was not the little filly that came here before.
She was not a dreamer, a foal that thought she had the whole world.
She was something entirely different now, but desperately trying to hold onto the things she knew she needed.
And most of all to who she is.
Lucrezia grows weary of her thoughts. It wasn’t a good idea to sulk away on her feelings and memories, especially to waste a day such like this. So, the peafowl amber champagne mare trots forward. The clouds of completely covered the once blue sky now. She can hear the thunder of the storm coming closer and the flash of lightening in the distances. Her hooves pound harder on the ground as she pushes a little faster than a trot now. Lucrezia flares her nostrils, taking in the scents around her. The smell of the rain is close and she knows within seconds the rain will come.
And all at once the rain does come.
It is soft against her skin, dampening her to some degree she doesn’t mind. However, Lucrezia wouldn’t really care even if she got soaked to the core now. Where she lived, there was hardly any rain. Where she lived, there was things to worry about more than rain such as her newborn son she had left in care with another. She knew her little Rome would be safe – the Deserts would keep him safe just as it kept her safe. However, the rain begins to pour harder now and the thunder is so close she can feel the rumbling of it. The anger within ever roar it makes.
Lucrezia peers through a drench forelock, managing somehow to see through the flash and darkness of the storm she now is in. She doesn’t slow herself down, it would be a bad idea to even allow herself to stand for one moment in this mess. But she doesn’t feel unsafe right now, instead she’s enjoying herself in the spring storm. Eventually, Lucrezia catches sight of a willow tree in the distances and makes her way there. She might as well take cover now or she will be asking for a death wish if she remained out there and not covered.
As she comes closer to the willow, Lucrezia slows down and makes her way under the protection of the willow. Her eyes grow wide suddenly when she spots the black stallion. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Her voice is soft and in surprise. Lucrezia is quick to mask in her surprised expression though. She was quick to mask herself, a simple task now that she had mastered over the years thanks to her manipulative father who had groomed her to be careful around others, particularly strangers. “I hope you don’t mind if I wait here too. It isn’t exactly a good idea to be out there right now.” But Lucrezia has never forgotten her humor and wit. She smiles at the black stranger, “I’m Lucrezia.” It was a smile that she practiced often to pretend she was still the same little filly she was growing up.
The soft voice breaks his reverie, distracting him from his self-imposed moping. His crimson gaze takes in all of her glory carefully - her unusual amber pelt, the peafowl-marked tresses and wings that remained tucked neatly at her sides. He studied her with the same stoic expression, uncertain as to how to interact with such a captivating creature. He had expected to be alone, and at times, alone is what he preferred.
It was easy to lose oneself in the negative thoughts on such a gloomy afternoon.
He held little ties to others and it suited him - it suited his long-lived life. He did not have to feel if he did not have the connections to provoke such emotions. Nonetheless, loneliness did often creep up, and this time was not unlike others. The soft rumble of thunder became to stir and shake the ground beneath as it neared them; the willow branches rattled from the vibration and dribbled large droplets onto his spine. He shivered, his first definitive movement since he laid eyes on her, reminding him of his own stillness.
He lowered his head, listening carefully to her speak as he wordlessly acknowledged her. Her smile was warm and her words were soft and kindly, which he could not and would not ignore. Though she attempted to mask her uncertainty, he could see through it clearly and chose to speak. While he might prefer isolation, he was above being rude.
"I don't mind; better under here than in the storm." His voice rumbled and echoed within the confines of the drapery of foliage, which acted as a wall between the torrential rainstorm on the other side, bolstering his usually quiet tone. "Lucrezia," He repeated, letting her name roll over his tongue. His eyes seemed to light up - or flash, in the very least. It was a very different name - for a very different mare. "I'm Offspring."
Lucrezia does not know what it is like to feel lonely. She only knows what it is like to feel forgotten and insignificant. It was her family that made her feel so essential and unique among all the others in the world. It was her father she had learned what love was. It was her sister, Straia, who had taught her the world of magic. Yet, it was also her family that had torn her apart, the very pieces of her heat that made her who she was. The very pieces so mingled and twisted, she is trying so hard to put back together. And somehow she manages to be here now, under the willow with a stranger as a storm brews over their heads.
She keeps her eyes on the stranger, particularly intrigued by his nature of stillness. Lucrezia has always found curiosity in strangers. There was something fascinated with others, especially the twisted and broken ones in Beqanna that she had to find out every detail of their life. Maybe it was the part of them that made them tangible; their desires and struggles she had to know of. Lucrezia had somehow always managed to find herself in the presence of such others; maybe she was attracted to others like herself. The ones who needed something to make them whole again, to make them feel alive. On the contrary, maybe she was just a lost soul searching for something, anything to fill this empty part of her.
After all, she was desperate for anything.
Lucrezia’s smile remains on her delicate, thin lips as continues to watch him. She didn’t know he could see through her masquerade. Maybe she has become weak in her ways of manipulating others. It had never been her desire to hurt others, but it was something she decided she could always use to protect herself. Lucrezia, however, lets it fall away. It was not natural to hold onto a smile for so long. She needed to find solid ground, but attempt to have the upper hand (a lesson from her father that now turned into instinct).
“Thank you, Offspring” she says with a grin as any princess might before her own people and kingdom. A princess had meant something to her when her father ruled, but now it simply was a worthless title. There had been nothing special with it. The title did not come with anything she desired, but for her father it had meant something when he was a king and looking for alliances. “Such a rough storm for the beginning of spring, isn’t?” It was not like all the storms she had seen in the spring time when coming to the Meadow all those years ago as a foal. There was something stronger and darker here now, she felt it in her heart, but maybe it was just her one personal outlook on this memorable place that clouded her judgement.
"It is unlike anything I have seen before," He murmurs softly, his gaze still lingering on her long enough to make it seem ambiguous as to what he was referring to - her, or the storm. Eventually he looks away, staring out into the brewing darkness that shields over the meadow, dousing it in heavy drops of water, losing his frame of thought for a moment. The soft puff of air from his nostrils from his slow, repetitive but shallow breathing was all that moved and shifted as he locked his gaze and mind elsewhere. Stillness was of his essence; he had learned long ago to simply listen and wait. A century of living (existing) instills a deeply-embedded lack of urgency; there was little in life worth taking for granted when life was something that would last an eternity.
There was no worry for the end - he had tried; oh he had tried - but suicide was nothing but a method to further paint his scarred, impaired canvas of black. Drowning, hanging, starvation - none of it worked. His life always held on to its tightly woven string, refusing to let the life forces beyond cut his lifeline, leaving him as a wallowing, sorrowful lump. Miserable. Suffering.
The last time he had attempted to take his own life was on an afternoon much like this, many years ago, but there was something deeper, darker - dangerous - about this storm. Perhaps it was only perceived in his mind. It was, after all, a reminder of what almost was. Of the death he once so desperately ached for. An end. He could feel the same festering pain beginning to bubble up within his chest, and he tried to swallow it down. He closed his eyes for a moment, aware that the amber-stained female next to him was watching, observing. He could feel his skin beginning to grow hot as he finally shifted his weight, anxious for any sort of movement to break the stillness that had brought him back in time.
"It is safer here. Lucrezia." His deep red eyes bored into her now, staring into her own as he tries not to be distracted by the allure of her peafowl feathers as they drape along her neck. She was unusual, but beautiful. Well-spoken. He was grateful for her company. "I come from the Tundra, and you? What brings you here?"
The idea of living forever has never crossed her mind once. She has always occupied herself with her curiosity, often it getting the best of her. As a young foal, she wanted to go out and experience the world, never hesitating to step out of her comfort zone to do so. It is perhaps her curiosity of the world that has driven her imagination and filled her head with silly things (and her heart to desire such things she knows could truly never happen). However, she has discovered that simple desires cannot be simply given easily. There are no irrelevant actions, every shift, every move and every idea is part of something bigger and beyond her own control.
Simply, it is called fate.
“It’s funny how nature works,” her eyes still lock with his own deep, red eyes. Offspring’s eyes remind her so much of her father’s – at least the ones she had seen before she was wiped away to purgatory. Lucrezia hadn’t asked to be a part of saving the world, saving Beqanna from total destruction. Most of all, she had not asked to be show up in the Chamber when she had “failed” her own homeland. Lucrezia sighs softly at that. She focuses her attention back to Offspring’s eyes – forgetting the memories of her sister and the Chamber recently – and how much there appears to be darkness, hidden behind walls for so long. Her curiosity wants to pear them apart, these walls, but she knows it was not a good idea. “It always seems to bring something new to you even if you spend your whole life living in it.” She adds at last when her own silence has fallen away.
Lucrezia blinks and turns away for a moment, knowing well that the stallion’s gaze was still upon her. It safer here, Lucrezia, he says and she wonders more about those words now than anything else. The Meadow had always been a safe haven for her, even as a child she had felt safe her when the whole world could’ve destroyed her and taken her away. Fate had other ideas for the dreamer girl though. Instead, she has found her own safety in the Deserts – a home she should’ve grown up in as a child instead of the Chamber. It was a memory she sometimes wished to wipe away now knowing what her relationship was like with her father and sister.
Offspring regards a common topic change. She knows how this casual conversation goes. It has always been the same one she’s had with many others. Lucrezia returns her nutmeg gaze back to the dappled male. “The Tundra, huh? You come so far away.” Lucrezia has never been to the Tundra before. “I’ve never agreed with the cold before,” she adds with a simple laugh and a grin softly touching her lips. “I’ve always called the Deserts my home. I think I enjoy the sun more than anything.” It made her feel warm inside, but there was also the way the sand felt against your hooves when you took a step. Then again, Lucrezia has found herself bound to the sandy kingdom by a mark of sphinx on her hip. It is a story she has never shared except with those she experienced with in the Deserts.
“I’ve come simply to see the Meadow again. I used to come here as a child and play.” The Playground had never suited her entirely when she was a foal. However, she is glad of the friends she has made there. Lucrezia almost wants to laugh at the situation now – half-brothers fathering her only child. She wonders what Tarnished thinks of her now when she proclaimed Kreios to be the father. Her thoughts at the time made sense that Tarnished would not stay, but he had been there at Rome’s birth. She must be ready if something comes up. She cannot entirely predict what he might do despite them being childhood friends. “And what about you? Why are you here, Offspring?” She asks with a tilt of her Arabian shaped head.
The idea of living forever has never crossed her mind once. She has always occupied herself with her curiosity, often it getting the best of her. As a young foal, she wanted to go out and experience the world, never hesitating to step out of her comfort zone to do so. It is perhaps her curiosity of the world that had driven her imagination and filled her idea with silly things (and her heart to desire things she knows could not truly happen). However, she has discovered that simple desires cannot be simply given easily. There are no irrelevant actions, every shift in sentiment, every move and every idea is part of something bigger and beyond her control.
