"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
Winter comes, without much warning. The days are not so ‘golden’ anymore, though the sun does illuminate the early morning dew that’s frozen on the lanky tendrils of browned grass. Though they’re farther south now, the brittle nip of cold air can still be felt throughout the day, which made Besra wonder what kind of winter they were experiencing back home in the Gates. She sighs, forlorn in the thought but not so heartbroken that she doesn’t turn a loving eye on the plains. From above, she’d been shown all the secrets that this place had to offer. In that wonderful moment Besra had taken a rather intense liking to her new herd.
Phaedrus, it seemed, had been the right choice after all.
Speaking of the stallion, he’d been out and about since she’d settled here. It doesn’t bother the blue-maned girl. She’d gone her whole life without someone looking over her shoulder, so his absence feels natural in a way. Besides, she’s more interested in the other bodies she’d seen lurking around on her quick flight. He had other mares, certainly, Besra had gotten a good whiff of one or two every time she wandered near the reflection pool. Try as she might, however, Phaedrus’ other mares seemed to have a knack for hide-and-seek. It disappoints her on some level; she’s missing out on a connection that she’d thought came with the whole herd package. Sister wives and all that jazz.
She chalks it up to patience, choosing instead to visit the small pond daily in hopes that someone would show face. Today, it seems, perhaps the bitter morning has driven them to shelter. With an audible sigh the ashy-colored mare accepts defeat, waiting for a moment longer to see perhaps some wildlife. From the woods, she’s given a surprise: the subtle snap of a twig. Instantly she tenses, ears snapping upwards as her body becomes motionless. “Hello?” She calls out tentatively.
Zaravich found herself alone on this chilly morning, she had been a member of the Dale for quite a few seasons, but only apart of Phaderus' herd for a couple. She had the same experience in the herd as she did the Dale, lonely aside from Phaderus' company, and of course Josie, her filly.
Zara loved to run before she birthed Josie and today seemed like the perfect day to return to the habit, with her tail flared in the air Zara ran as fast as her legs would allow her to, thrashing her head about with joy feeling the cold wind clash against her face. When she found herself lonely running would often times bring her the joy she needed, she felt so free and able to feel like a bird in the sky. As she slid to a halt exhausted from her tiring efforts her ears pricked at the sound of another. She instantly figured it was Phaderus but a voice followed and it was gentle, and more feminine than his.
She moved moved forward, following the voice, her pelt wet with sweat, but hidden on the black of her pelt. To her relief she spotted a mare, a beautiful one at that. A roan mare with gorgeous sky blue mane and tail, luckily for Zara the mare was by a pond were zara could quench her thirst. Hello she responded with a smile, her tail swayed as she made her way over to the pond, lowering her head allowing the cool water to run down her throat.
Getting her fill she lifted her head to gaze back at the mare, her breathing under control now. My name is Zara, and yours? she asked with a soft voice. The mare carried Phaderus' scent so she felt no need to be nervous in the mares presence. Zara was glad to meet another mare in the herd, hopeful to make a friend, but slightly nervous that jealousy would rage inside her.
A temptress greets her. Through the bracken comes another mare, black as night with a curious star and her tail dipped in snow. She’s well-made: slender appendages and a slightly dished face, a regular beauty in Beqanna. Well, it seemed that Phaedrus did have good taste. Besra notices the sweat along her sides, her inability to gather her breath, and assumes that she’s been out enjoying the brisk-turned-balmy day. She doesn’t seem so against the idea of company, so the blue roan girl smiles at her chipper “Hello”. “I’m so glad to see another face around here.” Besra tells her, easing forward around the lip of the pond so that the two can come closer together. “I was beginning to think Phaedrus had lied about the other mares.” She chuckles.
Of course, she knew Phaedrus to be a bitterly honest sort of fellow, but it’s funny to imagine him trying to cover an empty herdland with tales of a large harem. “Zara, nice to finally meet you.” She chirps, “I’m Besra.” Her baby blue tail flicks across her hind, dispelling curious insects that hover too close. Zara assumes the look of perfect willingness, eyes turned to Besra’s own blue ones with a happy sort of emotion. The old gates girl understands. It’s hard to be friends when you love the same stallion. But Besra wasn’t in love with Phaedrus, she wasn’t twisted up in his every action and she wasn’t with his foal now. He hadn’t saved her, he’d offered her companionship and a home - that’s why she had come here. Not for the doting affections of an overzealous male.
Not that he was overzealous, but Phaedrus probably had a history more intertwined with his other mares than Besra had with him. So she offers a warm grin, hoping that Zara will come to know her as simply Besra, a true friend. Not Besra, Phaedrus’ other mare.“Do you run often?” She asks her dark sister, head tilting gently so that her forelock dislodges from its place over her eye. She’s yet to experience every corner of the Golden Plains, though she’s seen it from above. Perhaps Zara knew of some places she’d not yet been?
Zara scanned over the mare who introduced herself as Besra, she was rather beautiful with a nice roan pattern and a most stunning blue mane and tail. Her beauty continued in her voice that was soft and gentle, something Zara could appreciate. Zara gave a small laugh at the mares comment I too wondered if there was other mares, you are the first I have met she smiled. Phaderus' mares sure did know how to hide, she has been in these lands for a few seasons and has yet to lay eyes on another. It was a lonely life, but she was a diplomat for the kingdom that occupied her spare time, as well as her foal Josie.
She dips her head in return to Besras greeting, Zara could assume that the mare was rather free and did as she pleased. She enjoyed that, although she did lust for Phaderus' she did not understand mares who did not live aside from when he was around. She enjoyed the occasional stretch of her legs, the occasional trip to the field, sight seeing every now and than. Some peace and quiet was nice, especially when you have had a foal and they get very needy at times. Zara gently swayed her tail as the mare asked if she ran often "Well I did all the time before I had my foal, in fact I could not stand still for more than 10 seconds She said with a laugh although it was true! Zara usually was always prancing around another horse, unable to stand in one spot. Her energy level was so high, perhaps because she was much younger than but ever since she had her foal she grew patience and she did not need to move every few seconds. Do you like to run? she asked curious if she had found herself a running partner. Although Zara enjoyed the time to think freely when running, it would also be fun to run with another equine, most of the others who saw her run would just watch and comment, no one has ever joined in with her.
So, it would seem that Besra wasn’t alone in her search for companions. Zara had noticed the eerie quiet around here too. It’s not so much that it bothers the roan girl - privacy is privacy, after all - she just wonders why the mares would let a single entity tear apart their opportunity at comradery. Just look at her and Zara now: already easing into conversation without a missing hair or flying hoof. Anything was possible, Besra was determined to see this through. She returns Zara’s lighthearted smile, head dropping to her knee so that she can rub her cheek in lazy circles across it.
“A foal! But you’re so young!” Besra announces, head rising to view the black mare with wide eyes. Her herd mate was trim, a slight of a thing with bright eyes and energy enough for the two of them. Besra couldn’t even imagine having more pent up excitement in such a womanly frame. “And yes, I do enjoy a good run. I’m not exactly the quickest, but I can go the distance.” She says, shifting slightly on her well-built legs. She used to run with her father, sometimes, when he soared above her in his other form. The two would coast along the edges of the Gates, her always wishing to be up there with him.
Wishes were fun things to make, but worse to dwell on. “I’m glad I’ve met you now, before I have to leave.” She sighs, turning her to face to the sun for a moment. “I’ve been stolen by another stallion.” Besra tells her, a frown tugging at her lips. Only a coward used tricks to obtain what was not rightfully his. She’d met Archam, once in the field. She’d turned him away then and she’d turn him away now. Besra would die before buckling under the pressure of an oppressive brute. “But enough about me. What’s your foal’s name?”
Zaras hazel eyes followed Besra as she lowered her head to scratch it. Laughing as the mare was shocked that she had a foal " Ahh yes well thats a story for another day" The blue mare appeared to be younger than Zara and although Zara still had plenty of life before her she did not think it was odd to have a foal at her age. But the grounds that she had a foal Zara only wishes she could have changed.
Zara returned to scanning over the blue mare, she appeared younger but was slightly taller than Zara herself. She was slender and appeared almost part arabian, but was stockier built and lacked the chizzled face feature most arabians carried. Her gaze snapped back as the mare spoke about running ahh well we will have to go for a run some day! she said with energy in her voice. She was excited to have someone to run with, that would prove to be exciting, hopefully! She flicked her tail at the thought of a friend, all she has wanted since her time in Beqanna over two years ago was a friend. She found Phaderus' but a female friend was non existent. Zara hoped that Besra could hold that friendship she so desperately desired. As soon as her hopes were raised her heart was crushed as Besra said she was stolen by another stag and would have to leave. How could this be?! how could she have been stolen! Zara has not heard of this news and was completely shocked. Stolen! by who?! when are you leaving? When will you return? naturally caring Zara was instantly concerned for the mare.
Her gaze raised from the floor in angst to meet the blue mares eyes Josie, my fillies name is Josie, she is a year old now. A spitting image of me really, ill have to introduce you two when you return which she hoped would be sooner than later.
Zara is genuine in her appreciation for the tender friendship that they’ve begun to grow. Besra knows these things don’t occur overnight - they take time. Like a garden, filled with fragrant beauty, their friendship would need trust and mutual respect. But this is time the silver-grey mare does not have. She only wishes it could be so, and wishes are nice to have but very, very dangerous to dwell on. “Of course we will, some time …” She mentions, letting the sentence taper off.
Zara mentions her foal. A filly, it would seem, named Josie. Besra’s smile is complete now as she imagines the little black miniature: all legs and energy and filled with that sweet, doleful gaze her mother has mastered so well. She likes the thought, wonders (briefly) how it would be to have her own miniature wandering about Golden Plains. Would she look like her? Would it even be a she? A small laugh escapes from her throat at the image, Besra shakes her head.
A noise breaks their easy silence - someone who trumpets across the plains in a manner only acceptable to a brutish thief. It’s Archam, and he’s calling for her. The blue-maned girl snaps her head up, eyes narrowing in irritation. “Stallions.” She mumbles, “His name is Archam, a rival idiot with a herdland in Cobblestone Creek. I won’t be gone long, Zara, and when I come back I look forward to meeting little Josie.” She ends, smiling once in her dark sisters direction before flicking her tail and picking up a canter to answer the bay monster’s call.
