"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
@[Brynmor] - Here's where I'll start up a new thread. With her having gotten older, she's a bit different.)
She had grown to have reached her mid-prime, at eight years old. She had yet to foal a single child of her own, and she longed to very much. It was tempting to try and seduce in a Tundra stallion who did not yet have their own lover, yet she kept her lust for herself and under control. It was a silly, thought, anyways. She had spent a large amount of time with Brynmor, yet did not feel as if they would love each other in the future.
"You could be the greatest, you could be the best. You could be the King Kong, bangin' on your chest. You could beat the world, you could beat the war.."
Her once-deep slate coat had greyed out and now her dun stripes and shoulder line seemed pitch-black. Her mane was getting lighter streaks to it, and was no longer a solid light-black tone.
"Brynmor?" She calls weakly in the growing dusk, as it had started to shorten the lightness and grow out it's dark winter schedule once again. It seemed timeless here, the icy Tundra hiding her inhabitants from the outside world. Interesting news still trickled in here and there, but not as often or as dramatically as it would if in, say, the Valley or the Field.
"..You could talk to God, go banging on his door.. You could throw your hands up, you could beat the clock. You could move mountains, you could break rocks. You could be a master.."
She felt every second of the hours pass faster, and she felt the cold hit her joints a little bit harder each winter. She was not bred for this. But she would not permit herself to perish within these icy walls. She did, indeed, leave the Tundra's borders to mingle occasionally, say, once or twice a year. But few times was it truly to track down family or friends.
All she had to do was ask, nothing more and nothing less. He himself would turn her down – he wouldn’t make the same mistake again – but he would guide her to one of the other brothers. The more children the better and Brynmor couldn’t wait to see all the younglings play together. In his opinion the Tundra was a great place to grow up in, and he couldn’t wait until he and Roan had a child of their own around. Sure he had Henson, and although he loved the appaloosa boy, it wasn’t the same. He didn’t love Anahera, not in the same way his heart beat for Roan.
He hears her call. His head rises and his ears tip, before offering an apologetic smile to Roan. Not that she could see it. Instead he brushes his muzzle across her cheek, saying goodbye in own way and at the same time a silent promise he would be back.
He finds G’ren not long after. Her dark coat had started to get lighter, he guessed that she soon would be just as gray as he was and eventually would turn white. Brynmor offers her a smile and a slight dip of the head, silently studying. ”It’s good to see you again, G’ren” he then greets her. She had changed, now able to withstand the Tundra’s cold, and a couple of years wiser since they had met.
”Is there something I can do for you? Of did you just want some company?” She had called him, after all. Not that he minded. He was a councelor of the Tundra and she belonged to the Tundra’s habitants. Even though mares couldn’t hold a rank, she still had found her place in the icy Tundra and therefor she was just as important as anybody else.
It had been a while since they had seen each other. He had been on duty again, and he happened to hear her call. She wondered about how to tell him, how to ask. How do I ask? How do I tell him? She mutters under her breath as he nears. Hello, Brynmor! I was just.. Needing to tell you about something.. I don't even know how to word this. She says happily, but quickly becoming ashamed looking, her eyes cast down and her ears flopping sideways in expression.
Starting to walk away from the somewhat crowded area, she hoped he would follow. Brynmor.. I've.. I've never had a foal of my own. I have no mate. I'm considering leaving the Tundra for a while on a search for a mate. I.. I just wanted another opinion. I would, indeed be coming back by the next season.. She says quietly, almost looking him in the eye and finally doing so at the very end. Her eyes had confusion in them, as if she didn't know what path to take from here.
There indeed seemed to be a reason behind her call. Brynmor didn’t mind it at all, she was a part of the Tundra after all. Even from a distance he could see that she looked somewhat distressed, like something was on her mind and kept her busy. As a councelor he wanted to be there for those who needed someone to talk to, or some advice. He might not be the brightest one out there, but he was generally concerned for all the habitants of the Tundra. Male or female, he enjoyed the company of both and he was honestly glad that there were females around that wanted to live in the Tundra to keep them company.
Her words only prove his thoughts right. He offers her a smile before stepping closer, reaching out to let his muzzle gently brush across her shoulder, before increasing the distance between them again. Brynmor wanted to tell her it was okay, that she could calm down and just tell him what was on her mind. ”Take your time, we’re not in a rush. But first, please tell me how you’re doing?” he asks her, genuinely concerned about that last encounter with the stranger of some other place. The hairless stud had walked into their home without invitation and in Brynmor’s eyes he had been a threat for G’ren and the Tundra.
His blue eyes seek hers, silently encouraging her to continue. The blue of his eyes might look cold and pale, but the gaze is warm and friendly. They also clearly show his surprise as he listens to her speaking. He pauses, staying silent for a moment, even after she’s finished speaking. He needs some time to let her words sink in. ”I cannot stop you from leaving. The Tundra isn’t a prism, just a home, and it is up to you to decide when you leave, when you come back and if you will come back.” His words a honest, he truly means what he says, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy with what she tells him. However, if that was what she needed in life, he couldn’t stop her.
”But I’d have to ask. There is nobody in the Tundra who’s good for you? We’d rather see our own offspring, yet we wouldn’t force you into anything. Or at least, that isn’t how Offspring rules these lands. But we wouldn’t cast you out if you decide to find this mate you search elsewhere. The Tundra is your home as well as it is mine, and in my opinion that doesn’t change.” As he falls silent he watches her, head tilting a little to the side and ears pricked forward in her direction. Brynmor wanted to make sure to catch everything she might say, just as every expression that might show on her features.
There was another thing that worried him tough. She had said that she never had a child of her own, but that surely went against her previously swollen stomach. What had happened to those children? A mother had every right to have her children to grow up at her side, and only the idea of G’ren being used as someone’s broodmare to take away the children angered him severely. Nobody had the right to use her like that and he thought that the Tundra had to protect all his habitants. Even the mares.
"Nothing is coming to rise."
OOC: Okay, I suddenly had Brynmor muse I guess. Sorry for going overboard like this _O-
Hey sorry but tablet is only option for right now (until like Wednesday morning) so ya, short words. It's fine, that is what I would do if I didn't have to deal with the tablet.. ><
She heard his question, but her thoughts were elsewhere with his words. "As far as I've really seen, you all either have a mate or don't wish to have one. If I am wrong, please, tell me so." She says quietly, looking about at the Tundra. She embraced the nuzzle for a moment before releasing it again. "It doesn't feel like.. a prison. Secure, loving and welcoming." She continues as well. She looks at Brynmor friendly, thinking about how she had come to love the icy Tundra.
She remembered about what had happened. She had, indeed, met a stallion one night and bred. But the filly, she felt it was dead. "It's stillborn. I can feel it." She says quickly, sadly. "It's karma, for it not being out of love." She says after a few moment's pause, ears flicking and eyes closing slowly.
With her having gotten older, she's a bit different.)
