"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
03-03-2016, 03:52 PM (This post was last modified: 03-04-2016, 09:37 PM by City.)
She finds herself among the grassy hills this morning – grassy hills that are hundreds of miles away from where she was just days ago. Mentally and physically, she muses to herself. She knew exactly where to go even though she has not been here since she was a child – and never the Field. It's almost like being a native to this mother land makes it have it's own compass within one's soul. She's always known that one day she would come back and she even knew where it is she would go first and what she would desire to find at said place.
Upon her arrival, just after crossing the borders, she heads for a spot that looks perfect to watch everything from. She moves off with muffled movements across the softened soil; self trained in the way of stealth. The pale mare stands on the edge of the seas of waving green with trees at her back; strategically setting herself away from the crowds in order to observe them and the likely places that comers would emerge from (though some recruiters can be sneaky). It's early morning and the only thing making immediate noise around her is the peaceful song of birds and the whisper of a sprig breeze that falls from the mountaintops, weaving in and out of the forests before spilling onto the field. Her body takes a relaxed stance and her sense absorb into her surroundings. Her long milky ears sporting sprigs of her thick hair that have fallen messily over her poll – she has entirely too much hair to contain all at once. Her tail is just as unkempt and thick, only it's a bit muddier than her dreaded mane. Her blazing eyes are hidden behind a veil of creamy forelock, only revealing if she flicks her head to cast the curtain aside. She can see perfectly enough to be useful, in her opinion, and she quite likes being able to hide any expression her eyes may betray against her will.
So here she waits, where field and forest meet and a little knoll comes popping up from the earth. The wind is getting stronger every now and then, making her long hair dance wildly with it's current.
city
in the bleak midwinter
anyone is welcome, but it will take a lot of convincing to get her to go to kingdom xD
ps. SOMEONE maybe could drag her to the chamber,
her mom served as a general there forever ago and she was born there and all..[city grumbles]
The golden stallion is still smiling as he makes his way into the field, his mind still back in the Mourning Mountains. Back with his two brand new sons, his new daughter and their still recovering mothers.
His stroke of luck has not changed - it’s been yet another good year for him. His pathetic mother is dead, his little herd is still growing, his apprentice is finally starting to show his worth, and he’d shown his own worth in the war against the Gates.
But why stop there?
His red eyes focus once more on the the field around him. Five mares to a herd is nice, but he could always do with more. And even if he can’t find a mare for his herd, he can always try to find a recruit for the Chamber.
He zeroes in on a bloodmarked fleabitten grey, as yet unapproached by the many other stallions and recruiters in the field. She’s passably pretty, though a bit older than he would have wished. Still, she’s worthy enough to potentially bear his future children. Or serve in the Chamber instead.
Once upon a time he would have played nice, putting on a charming facade to convince her to join his herd, but now he doesn’t bother with pretence. He’s not desperate anymore - while a sixth mare would be nice, it’s not like his herd will die out if some white knight swoops in to ‘rescue’ her.
But, while he doesn't lay on the charm, he isn’t particularly aggressive either. He’s simply … himself. Predatory. “And what might you be searching for?” His red eyes note the red stains beneath her eyes. How curious. “I’m Zayn.”
She see's him and his crimson eyes surveying the open fields of jade. His gaze stops and pins onto her and in reaction her posture tightens and her head perks up, ears pricking to indulge any sounds he may give out. He advances with little hesitation, it looks like and such a confident stride attracts her interested focus. At least for now, any way. With him comes a sharp familiar smell...the pines of the Chamber. Heat flashes over her her skin and cold goosebumps spread under her milky fur. The scents are mixed with the smell of stone and mountain mist, more so than the Chamber's perfume. Her steely gray nostrils flutter while her olfactory tries sorting through the smells – the most robust among them being the musk of his stallionness. She watches him carefully as he eases closer, her ears flicking back once or twice but otherwise she shows little sign of rejecting his approach.
His voice is as prickly as he appears. She doesn't deny to herself that she prefers a cold hearted man to a warm hearted one – if they're heart has to be beating at all, that is. She lets his question stand alone on the slow winds and his name too. She keeps her lips clenched and her eyes bore into his own.
“A home.” She snorts and draws her head back to examine him properly. She squints and thrashes her tail across those freckled hips. “Can you take me to one?” She asks as if she knows the answer, and she does. Anyone who knows where they are knows why the wolves come around to play. They want to take you home and feed you to the rest...and she's more than happy to just go right now.
I hate this fucking field. She concludes this while raking her eyes over each part of his body reachable by a semi-polite gaze. She almost looks like she's about to devour him, but there's no denying that she isn't the one with the most hunger in her eyes here.
She smells mares, foals and the Chamber.
She's beginning to believe the Gods are just having fun with her at this point.
03-15-2016, 03:08 AM (This post was last modified: 03-15-2016, 03:09 AM by Zayn.)
She smells of elsewhere, and yet something about the way her eyes travel about the field tells him that she’s been here before. He gets the feeling that there’s a whole history hidden behind those bloodstained eyes, but he doesn’t ask after it. He doesn’t know her, it’s none of his business. And he doesn’t particularly care.
What he does care about, is whether or not she will follow him, and join either the Chamber or his herd. And luckily she doesn’t appear to want to beat around the bush.
“A home you say. Well, you’re in luck. I can indeed take you to one. But it will depend on what you’re looking for.” He of course would rather she join his herd and bringing his number of mares up to six, but a Chamber recruit will do nicely enough. “I am a member of a kingdom called the Chamber, but I also have a herd in a little territory called the Mourning Mountains. The name is a little odd, and the land a bit rocky, but I assure you it is a comfortable little place.” Well, at least the caves make it livable. It would be impossible to eke out an existence there if there were no caves to shelter in during the winter.
“So what catches your fancy? The busy kingdom life, or the quiet herd life?” Not that the Chamber has been that busy since the war. They’re experiencing a nice little lull, though he’s sure it won’t last long. The Chamber always seems to rise again, no matter what it experiences. “Oh, I’m Zayn by the way.”
03-15-2016, 11:13 AM (This post was last modified: 03-15-2016, 11:13 AM by City.)
She lets him ramble on uselessly. Her expression clearly void of interest until he mentions the Chamber. Her heart skips and she looks away to the horizon, bending an ear to him but not looking at his face. By the time he gets around to his name she is lost in thought about her birth-home.
She lets her eyes sit still on him. “We'll see, Zayn.” She walks forward a few steps before looking over her shoulder. “Meet you there.” She trotted on and dipped into the thick forest to find a secret path, well, she thinks it's pretty secret. It's overgrown and not often traveled, Emo used to take her this way on their trips to and from the Chamber. She's off and floating through the woods on a loose canter toward the cold Mountains.
